#men can never be victims of sexism

[allwomenjointhe4bmovement]

Men don't experience sexism!!! Please find and read this!

[snoppy]

I'm sorry but I think its good that tom is saying stuff that makes you all uncomfortable. I think everyone is a little too willing to make him the hurt innocent underdog

[uncaught-coolfish]

rambling time but while I’m fine with emerald getting redeemed (it was gonna happen eventually) and thank fuck for ilia getting redeemed but if they redeem cinder and especially if they redeem salem herself I will throw a metal chair at

[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.

[thepeacepigeon]

The 4B Movement: How South Korean women are leaving the patriarchy behind 

(Getty Images)

In 2016, a 34-year-old man named Kim Sung-min waited inside a unisex restroom outside exit 10 of Gangnam Station, Seoul South Korea. Six different men came and exited through the restroom over the span of an hour, until a 23-year-old woman entered, and Kim proceeded to stab and kill her with a 12-inch-long sushi knife. In court, Kim stated, “I did it because women have always ignored me.” Kim’s actions and thoughts are not out of the ordinary amongst Korean men—violence against women is extremely common in South Korea. 

(BBC)

South Korea has a long record of female subjugation. Between 1953 and 2021, abortion was illegal in almost all circumstances, and current law allows a woman to get an abortion only if she has consent from a male relative or her boyfriend/husband/partner. A 2015 South Korean government survey revealed that almost 80% of women had been sexually harassed at work. A survey released by The Ministry of Gender Equality and Family found that 57.8 percent of women felt vulnerable to misogynistic violence. Digital crime and sexual harassment are extremely common— “molka”, up-skirt photos, and secret cameras hidden in restrooms are rampant, so much so that any cellphone purchased in South Korea has a mandatory chime when photos are taken. The World Economic Forum’s 2022 Global Gender Gap Index ranks South Korea at number 99 out of 146 countries for gender equality. Legislation actively works against women trying to report sexual assault. Men accused of stalking or harassment can “ask” their victims to drop charges, and in 2022 a man murdered his former colleague after she refused to drop charges against him for stalking her since 2019. South Korea has the highest gender pay gap of all the OECD countries—the top wealthiest 37 countries, globally, with women earning on average a third less than men. These alarming statistics have come years after the “Gangnam Station” murder, and South Korean women continue to be targeted for their gender.

(Jung Yeon-Je/AFP via Getty Images)

Despite Kim’s own testimony, government authorities explicitly denied the misogynistic motive, and the prosecution announced that the case was not being investigated as a hate crime. Kim was eventually sentenced to 30 years in prison. In response to the murder, women took to the streets outside Gangnam station and the surrounding areas in protest. The women, many of whom had never considered themselves feminists or activists, but the nature of the crime and the misogynistic motivation, as well as the court's refusal to acknowledge it, outranged them. The murder incited intense debates about misogyny within the country, and the gender inequities women faced both socially and economically. Five months after the murder, Cho Nam-Joo’s novel Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 was published. The book devastatingly details an everyday woman’s daily experiences of nonstop sexism, inequality, and misogyny in contemporary South Korea, and served as another enraging eye-opener that would develop into what would become known as the 4B Movement. 

The four B’s (or “Four No’s”) of the movement represent the four major components that women of the movement are rejecting; Bisekseu (sex), Bichulsan (child-bearing), Biyeonae, (dating) and Bihon (marriage). South Korean feminists define the 4B movement not as a fight against the patriarchy, but a complete step away from it— leaving it behind. In 2017, the Escape the Corset campaign swept across the country. The word “corset” is used by Korean feminists as a metaphor for the societal mechanisms that control and repress women, for example, the extreme and toxic beauty standards. Both 4B and Escape the Corset condemn and reject the influence that beauty holds within every aspect of South Korean life. Pioneers such as feminist author Cho Nam-Joo, and photographer Jeon Bo-ra, who photographed women who shaved their heads in rebellion. Social media has played a large role in the 4B movement, with bloggers and beauty influencers like Lina Bae speaking up against unattainable beauty standards and societal pressures, and Summer Lee who was inspired to cut her hair, throw away her hyperfeminine clothes, and post pictures of herself without makeup. 

(Jean Chung/Getty Images)

Despite increasing conversation on women’s rights, feminism is still considered a taboo, contentious, or even “dirty” word for many South Koreans. It is often associated with “man-hating” and perceived as overly aggressive. The country's current president Yoon Suk-yeol has promised to close down the South Korean Ministry of Gender Equility and Family, and any other organizations that fund or support women and victims of sexual violence, claiming they “treat men like potential sex criminals”. A January 2023 article in the South Korean newspaper The Sisa Times reported that 65% of women in the country do not want children, 42% do not want to get married, and over 80% of those cite domestic violence as their key reason. As a result, concerns regarding the rising average population age and declining birth rate in South Korea have increased greatly. The country's birth rate is less than one per woman as of 2021, and the country saw less than 200,000 marriages. In recent years, the South Korean government has commissioned a number of soap operas and reality TV shows to promote an idyllic view of romantic heterosexual love, and to encourage marriage and reproduction. 

(Yonhap)

The 4B movement and Escape the Corset campaign have had a tremendous impact on the way young South Korean women view the countries cultural grip on women’s appearances and lives. Between 2015-2016 and 2017-2018, Korean women spent over 5 billion Korean Won less on beauty products and cosmetic surgeries, instead investing their money in cars and choosing independence over objectification. The movement is calling for boycotts of any business that uses sexist advertising, and encouraging women to eat at women-owned restaurants, drink in women-owned bars, and shop at women-owned stores—women’s money goes into the pockets of other women. Women’s universities have also been on the rise in South Korea, with most cities housing one or several women-only institutions. Similarly, women’s only spaces have begun to expand, women’s parking spots closer to entrances and exits in parking garages, women’s only hotel floors and common rooms, and women’s only subway cars. These spaces allow feminism to spread and flourish, and give Korean women the ability to find community with other women without the interference of men. 

(Ian Baldessari/CityLab)

Since 2016, Exit 10 of Gangnam Station has become a symbolic site for South Korean feminism. The South Korean feminist movement developed out of particularly misogynist conditions within their country. The 4B movement represents a radical way that women have sought to create an online and offline world devoid of men—rather than engaging in arguments and altercations, they simply refuse to interact with men in every aspect of their lives. These actions have had a profound impact on the functionality of South Korean society and have opened an uncloseable door too the discussion of women’s rights. 

McCurry, Justin. “Calls for Stalking Law Overhaul in South Korea as Woman’s Murder Shocks Nation.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 23 Sept. 2022, www.theguardian.com/world/2022/sep/23/calls-for-stalking-law-overhaul-in-south-korea-as-womans-shocks-nation.

Teehan, Katie. “What Is the 4B Movement?” Service95, 16 Apr. 2024, www.service95.com/4b-movement-explainer/.

Izaakson , Jen, and Tae Kyung Kim. “The South Korean Women’s Movement: ‘We Are Not Flowers, We Are a Fire.’” Feminist Current, 16 June 2020, www.feministcurrent.com/2020/06/15/the-south-korean-womens-movement-we-are-not-flowers-we-are-a-fire/.

Lee, Min Joo. “Why so Many South Korean Women Are Refusing to Date, Marry or Have Kids.” Yahoo! News, Yahoo!, 15 May 2023, news.yahoo.com/why-many-south-korean-women-123250959.html?guccounter=1&guce_referrer=aHR0cHM6Ly93d3cuZ29vZ2xlLmNvbS8&guce_referrer_sig=AQAAAHmBVorK4v6bdzwcJMRyRdXkKtzUlpQYWn5Ot-BPzs-YRNNZFW5JBwC65OTaPrRImn3F3G56r0gfNydadUzlQtPS61hOi6uggk_OkwZqqvLvS-YN4HbPrpwKvK9_7g0e9yqu9fiRRvOVJkGRv__L7AZGoYtfHVxjKLLPDi9DI2fu.

Park, Seohoi Stephanie. “Murder at Gangnam Station: A Year Later.” KOREA EXPOSÉ, 2 Mar. 2023, koreaexpose.com/murder-gangnam-station-year-later/.

Dockeray, Hannah. “Why Some South Korean Women Are Rejecting Beauty.” Sky News, 14 July 2021, news.sky.com/story/plastic-surgery-south-korea-faces-beauty-backlash-11871654.

[morganitering]

Because I'm the Weakest II: The Women Who Never Won

Pairings/character dynamics: Satosugu, Shoko and reader, Nanami and reader, implied shoko x utahime

Contains and warnings: DARK FIC/DEAD DOVE fem!reader, Suicidal ideation, rape aftermath, referenced rape (not written out in this chap), depression, alcohol abuse, misogyny & sexism, internalized sexism, sexual harassment on minors done by minors, victim blaming (thoughts), self harm, angst, hurt & comfort, I call noncon with the official word for it

Word count: ~9,6k

Summary: There's certain desperation when you try to keep your head above water. You were drowning and all you wanted to do was to forget, the weight on your shoulders unbearable. Despite the cards you were dealt with you found yourself among allies as the web of untold memories started to unfold.

A/N: Hey! Yall waited long for this, sorry about that. I have no idea how to tag this but I'll just do it somehow, bc this is a tricky chapter. Here yall get to dive deeper in the stuff that has gone down before the events that took place in 1st chap and get a hug from Shoko. This is hopefully the last installment of this. Read the tags carefully as always and make informed decisions based on that and take care of yourself. Shit can get heavy, but I'm trying to do this in good taste.

Read on ao3 part I

Shoko Ieiri had worked a long time with people who suffered. She had seen it all, limbs cut off, even the toughest of sorcerers reduced to crying messes as they practically had their innards falling to the floor. There’s something utterly horrifying watching a patient, no – a friend scream in pain when even her skills were not enough. Funerals came and went, the white sheet thrown over the deceased on the operation table in the same routine way she’d change her linens. Nothing really shocked her. 

That’s what she liked to think. 

Your visits have been more frequent. It started with bruises and sprained ankles. Then it was broken bones that soon turned to puncture wounds, your clothes sticky with deep red and dirt. When she asked about it, you laughed it off saying it’s nothing, just a silly little mishap, “I was too reckless in the heat of the moment.”  But your eyes were empty, your words hollow like a dead tree. Of course Shoko did her job, without asking too much. You’re an adult and you’ll speak about it if you want to, right? Her job was to keep you alive. Your job was to exorcise curses. 

Shoko and you had been close too, hanging out with the two men, but at some point in high school she had withdrawn from the group. Gojo and Geto had tried to keep in touch with her in adulthood, inviting her as well to spend time together as the four of them, but she had always declined, smoothly changing their relationship to acquaintances at best. She heard enough of the despicable men from you. The only times she was in direct contact with Gojo and Geto was work related and god how she hoped that it would stay that way. She’ll play that pretend game almost happily. 

Shoko closed the office door the day turning to evening, sundown coloring the city in hues of orange and yellow. She held onto her little black purse, thankfully it was friday. A man stood on the long corridor, standing upright as if he did not belong here. He looked indifferent, almost bored.

“Nanami.” 

“Ieiri.” 

They greeted each other with a curt nod. 

“So what brings you here? You seem healthy enough,” Shoko asked as they walked to the open parking lot, only a few cars in sight. The warm summer sun caressed her cheeks, wind making her long hair flow in waves.

“I think she’s going through something,” Nanami stated as a matter of fact talking about you. He and you had gone on missions together, but something about you wasn’t right. He had seen the way you clutch your weapon, throw yourself at the enemy recklessly almost as if you had a death wish. It’s like you waited for your end. 

“No shit.” Shoko chuckled amused. It was as clear as a day if you just had eyes on yourself. “Why do you care?” 

“I’ve seen enough people spiral to know where it leads. You’re a healer, can’t you help?” His voice was thoughtful, not betraying a hint of emotions. 

“I can’t help a person who doesn’t want it,” Shoko said. “But I’ll try to figure something out.” 

“And that is enough. Thank you.” 

***

You hated meetings and rarely took part in them if you could avoid them. You had not met Gojo or Geto after the unfortunate night. If there were some work related things where there was a possibility to meet either of the men, you requested to be part of them remotely or that someone would just forward the key points. But after doing this for a few months Yaga had sent you a passive-aggressive email writing that it is absolutely mandatory for you to show yourself at least once in a while. You didn’t bother to answer him with anything other than a polite see you there.

Honestly you were tired. Your whole body ached in overexertion. Sleep escaped from you, ran a marathon around the block never stopping at your house, and every time you seemed to catch a break, hazy images you rather forbid being real filled your vision. Your eyebags told a story of exhaustion, your body shrinking in every possible way away. You went to see a doctor, not Shoko, just some normal practitioner from the private sector that you ended up paying yourself sick for. 

The doctor gave you pills to help you with sleep. He asked you if you were stressed or going through some sorts of crisis. You answered with a diligent no and explained that you’ve always had issues with sleep, but you were otherwise okay. He looked at you, raising his eyebrow in suspicion, the glasses on his head hung on his nose by a thread. He decided to believe you as he wrote the prescription, but insisted you took home pamphlets about depression and crisis hotlines. 

You tried the pills. You did fall asleep, but only after a panic attack wrecked through your body as the effect of the medication forced you into a deep slumber. The pills made you feel your pulse in your whole body. “It’s a quite strong product, previously used to treat psychosis, but nowadays it’s for patients with severe insomnia. Take it one hour before sleep. The effect might be really sudden.”  

When you woke up you decided to throw them away. It’s better to not to sleep if it meant that you’d go free from the horrors of the night you had experienced. 

The huge meeting table sprawled out horizontally and was able to sit around fifteen people in it. It had several small electric outlets for computers and tablets. Light poured in from the big windows, the blinds only halfway done. You stared at the weird scribbling on the white board that Principal Yaga was wiping furiously, muttering things about how students shouldn’t be let in this room under any circumstance since they can’t differentiate which markers are okay to use on it. 

You exchanged pleasantries with him. The room was devoid of people since you were too early. You swung your leather bag on the back of the upholstered office chair and sat yourself down.

Shoko walked in and her face lit up a little bit when she saw you sitting there. It was subtle, you thought that you were maybe the only one who could differentiate that expression from her. She sat next to you, a faint hint of neroli wrapping you to its calming aroma. 

Next came Meimei and then Utahime who came running to you two giving a happy hug to Shoko. They were so cute together, you thought to yourself as you fidgeted with your slightly too big shoes, constantly removing them and pushing them back to your feet. People don’t usually like small talk, but nonetheless the group chatted with each other. They had to, because it’s polite and you were coworkers. You thought that small talk was easy. The script of it was burnt to your brains for the rest of your life. You get to keep people at an arm's length and keep up appearances, so what’s there not to like? 

A familiar blonde man stood in the doorway. You checked your phone for the time. Only five minutes before the official start. Yuki also appeared after Nanami.  

“Hello,” he said and nodded at you as he sat himself next to you. Your whole body stiffened around him. It was hard to look him in the eyes and even harder to work missions with.

It was ten minutes past the official time when the meeting was supposed to start. 

“Sorry we are late.” Two men marched in the room with confident strides and took their place in front of you facing you, that was sitting in between Nanami and Shoko, Utahime next to the doctor. Suguru sat down next to Yuki leaving a space for Satoru who had Meimei next to him. 

Hearing Suguru’s voice made your skin crawl. 

“It’s fine,” Yaga said and looked over his shoulder to look at the white screen he had pulled down earlier with only a blue screen reflecting on the fabric. “I can’t seem to get this work anyway,” he mumbled. 

“Do you need help?” Suguru walked over to the man struggling over his laptop. “Have you checked the HDMI-cable?” 

“Of course I have, I just don’t understand why it won't work. We have Ijichi remote today,” he muttered partially to himself.  

“Let me.” 

You sat fidgeting on your chair focusing on everything else than the two men and their presence that suffocated you. If you were a candle they’d be snuffing you out but not properly, no, that would be too kind. They’d always let enough air in so that you’d never be completely put out. 

“Hello to you girls.. and Nanami,” Satoru flashed a playful grin at the four of you. Your head jerked involuntarily to look at the man. Thank god he has a habit of covering his eyes, but somehow that made him even worse. 

“Hello. How are you?” Nanami nodded politely. 

“I’m well. Hopefully the work isn’t stressing you out too much.” Satoru’s smile widened. 

“Speaking of work, I’ve heard that you and her have started doing missions together,” Satoru nudged his head towards you as he spoke directly to Nanami. “I actually green lighted the idea of sorcerers working more together. It’s good to practice teamwork and I put in good words for the two of you, since you compliment each other with the techniques you have. ” Satoru moved his head to look your way as he drew out his words in a way that you’d be sure to catch the dual meaning.

The wall flashed a few times showing the computer screen and it’s default wallpaper for only a moment and after that went back to blue. 

“An idea that I actually can get behind,” Nanami said agreeably. 

Your eye twitched. 

“Really? That was your doing?” You barely hid the anger of your voice. One more push and you’d pour your life savings on an amoral hitman, not that you’d believe that anyone could finish him off. It was a thought just for you so you could at least think about being mean in your own petty way. 

“Not a fan of working in groups of two? How about in groups of three?” 

“You fucking piece of-” 

“Okay I think it’s working now,” Yaga put his hands together straightening himself properly. Suguru walked over to Satoru, slightly shaking his head before he sat down. You heard Utahime’s quiet “okayy..” whispered in the awkward silence. 

“Unfortunately principal Gakuganji wasn’t able to make it today, he’s sick or something.”

You heard Gojo scoff audibly. 

“Try to respect him.” Yaga shot a glare in the young teacher’s way. 

“Ijichi and Nitta have gathered data about the hotspots of cursed activity,” he continued and opened up the window to teams only to be greeted by a tired looking black haired man in a suit. The background behind him was red, it looked like some type of wallpaper and small paintings covered the walls. You reckoned it was a hotel room. Or a motel, you really could not tell. 

“Ijichi, do you hear me? Would you like to take over?” Yaga’s voice boomed louder as if he wasn’t already near his computer. 

The grainy picture of the tired man smiling uncomfortably stayed still a little too long to be taken as a real time reaction to Yaga’s question. 

“I hear you. Sorry, the connection here is a bit bad.” Ijichi’s voice echoed in the office room. The picture of a slideshow appeared on the wall, making Ijichi’s face smaller. 

The map of Tokyo loomed on the wall as everyone stared at it intensely, more or less dozing off. Some parts of it had big red circles on them and Ijichi explained the way these places were having exceptionally heavy activity. He reckoned that partially the rise in activity tied to the sorcerers working more missions together leaving less people available. Ijichi also showed statistics comparing the effectiveness of sorcerers based in Tokyo and Kyoto. 

You were about to lose your mind, your body still pumping adrenaline after the conversation with Gojo. Everyone else seemed to be bored, oblivious to your struggle. Satoru had yawned at least three times in the last ten minutes, Shoko and Utahime were both interested in their nails. Even Suguru looked tired and he was pretty good at hiding his thoughts. The only ones who did not look outwardly dead inside were Yaga and Nanami. 

“Thank you Ijichi for your hard work,” Yaga said and Ijichi nodded smiling. The pop up of the slideshow vanished from the screen leaving Ijichi’s face in a huge resolution looming onto the wall. 

“We are going to take in account the effects of pairing up sorcerers. I’m not entirely in charge of how long this trial will take,” Yaga said. “Ieiri has this trial affected the health care aspect in any way?” 

Shoko cleared her throat tapping open the ipad in front of her, her nails making a satisfying click click sound. 

“The injuries have lessened,” she started. That’s good, you thought. “But the severity has increased,” she said with a serious face.

“Why is that?” Principal scrunched his eyebrows together. 

“In my professional opinion it is due to people being more brazen when having a partner. This can be seen especially in lower grade sorcerers, who are prone to believing that they are invincible when someone backs them up.” Everyone had turned to look at the doctor who played with her hair idly as she spoke. 

“And the second grade and up?”

“It happens less. But there are some, even first grade sorcerers, who are accident prone,” Shoko said and quickly looked at you, not long enough for others to pick up on that she was speaking about you.

Gojo’s phone rang in the middle of the conference. He left the room with an apology and never came back. Relief and anger ignited in you playing tug of war in your heart as your eyes followed him bitterly.

“I think this is all. I’ll send everyone the upcoming jobs, but if no one has anything to say, I think we can conclude this meeting here,” Yaga said, the choir of thank yous and goodbyes filling the room. 

You stretched yourself, happy to be on your feet again. 

“Hey, can we talk?” Nanami tried to get your attention. 

You stood in the room that was quickly emptying out of people. Shoko awkwardly hung around in a small distance from you and Nanami, trying to pretend that she wasn’t listening to your conversation. 

“I don’t entirely understand the conversation between you and Gojo, but if I have somehow disrespected you I offer my deepest apologies.” Nanami’s voice was soft. Your heart ached as you realized how bad your words must have appeared to him. 

“I’m so sorry. It’s not about you. You’ve done nothing..” You trailed off as you saw the tall curse eating man walk outside with a sly smile on his lips.

“That’s a relief but if I may be so blunt, I have a hunch that there is something bothering you,” Nanami said. 

You looked at him and chewed your lower lip nervously. This was all their fault. If they had not done what they did, you would not be in this position. The least they could have done is to keep the names of people you know out of their mouths. 

“I’m sorry to leave you hanging like this, but can we finish this conversation later?” You  hurried past him, only hearing Nanami mumble the word ‘sure’ like a kicked puppy and you said goodbye to Shoko agreeing on staying in touch with her.

The corridor was almost empty as you walked through the school building frantically searching for that bastard of a man. Your footsteps echoed on the wood as you arrived at a not so well known exit of the building. Geto stood in front of the dual doors, half heartedly pushing it open as he furiously wrote something on his phone. 

You yelled out his name, but he did not bother to react to you. You closed in on the man that was still standing back towards you. Anger surged in you as adrenaline made you braver than what you normally would be. You were supposed to just grab the ends of his hair that were sprawled across his back, but in the heat of the moment your impulse control had another lapse as you kept on raising your hand. A fist closed around the bun that had been carefully crafted on his scalp and you dug your fingers around the hair tie and then yanked, hard. 

“What the hell are you doing?!” He turned around stepping out of the doorway letting it close properly with a thump and he closed the distance between you for good. His eyes shot daggers at you. 

“You did not pay attention to me.” You shook your hand out of the spare strands that were stuck on your palm and offered the small hair tie back to him. 

“Well you got it now,” he hissed. “You can keep that as a souvenir. I don’t want anything that a filthy bitch like you has touched,” he said, the calm composure nowhere in sight. 

A filthy bitch? Really? Then maybe you should break up with Satoru if this is your deal breaker.. That’s what you wanted to say, but you held back your tongue. 

Geto took a deep breath, calming himself down, slipping on the mask that you were more used to seeing. He put his phone back in his pocket.

“What do you want?” 

“You told me,” you started, tears threatening to flow over. “You told me that I can just leave and do whatever I want. Why do you keep tormenting me? Why do you let Gojo do what he does?” Your voice broke as you started crying openly. You hated it, it made you weak. No. You were weak. 

“Firstly, I’m not his guardian. He can do what he wants.” He sounded like a smartass. 

“Second of all, never. And I repeat. Never, lay a hand on me ever again, especially on my hair.” You rolled your eyes. 

Of course it was the hair that ticked him off completely. It was his crown, the only thing he had ever been able to take care of besides Satoru. Suguru loved to flaunt himself as the calm one, the kind one, but the exterior had always had some cracks in it. No amount of paint was able to hide the rotten wall behind it. 

“I can forgive your outburst at Satoru’s, but now that you’re in your right mind, you won’t get second chances.” 

“I don’t want ‘second chances’. I want you to leave me the fuck alone so I can do my job,” you yelled at him. 

“Lower your voice. Or do you want to air out all the dirty laundry for everyone?” Geto hushed you. 

“It’s not my ‘laundry’, it’s fucking yours!” You roared and tears fell down your cheeks blurring your vision. Your face felt hot as it got wrapped in the wrath of your words. 

Geto did not answer you, instead he chose to stare you down, not moving at all as if he was a statue. He looked like a child throwing a tantrum when things did not go his way, his face contorting to a sneer that could challenge any rich spoiled brat. You panted and wiped your face with the rough backside of your palm. 

“Move.”

“Ladies first,” he snickered childishly and kicked open the heavy door with his foot as he stepped slightly to the side. God this man hangs out too much with Gojo. 

As you left the school grounds barely holding your breakdown away, there was one figure in the corridors hugging the wall near the exit, clutching onto her purse. 

***

SHOKO’S MEMORIES, 2006

“Truth or dare?” Satoru asked, popping the pink bubblegum in the air, sucking the sticky material back in his mouth to chew on loudly. 

“Truth,” Shoko said, placing another cigarette in her mouth. She smoked especially heavily when she was drinking. 

Satoru had managed to bring a whole six pack of beer to the picnic whereas Suguru had found a travel size vodka bottle from his parents. Shoko had brought a package of different berries and salty crackers with her. 

“If you could have any technique in the world, which one would you have?” Satoru asked. He looked at the clear blue sky and the way the summer breeze pushed on the white clouds. 

Shoko played with the corner of the blanket as she thought deeply about his question. She stared at the shoes she had placed on the grass and the manicure on her toes that Utahime had insisted on putting on her. 

“I think I’d keep this one,” she smiled wistfully. 

“Really? You wouldn’t want my powers?” Satoru looked at her tilting his head to the side. He spat out the chewing gum and placed it on the plastic lid that belonged to the packaging of berries. He did not like it when things ran out of flavor, always searching for something more. 

“No. I don’t envy you at all. I just want a happy life and that’s all” Shoko answered his gaze, with a gentle smile. “Besides, I like the way I am and I suppose I can help people like this,” she added. 

Satoru hummed. He was clearly dissatisfied with the answer. 

He did not exactly know why. 

“Satoru, that's sad. You should ask something fun,” Suguru pointed out and took a sip from the beer can. 

The three of them sat on a grassy hill that had a pretty decent view of the city and the park below it. Shoko leaned against the huge tree behind her back. The cicadas were performing their own concert with the hum of motorways working as their orchestra.  

“You figure out better questions then,” Satoru pouted, but wasn’t actually hurt. 

“Isn’t it my turn to ask though?” 

Shoko looked in the distance watching closely how a woman jogged with her shiba inu, her ponytail swishing in the same rhythm as the chord of her headphones. Both men nodded slightly out of sync. 

“Satoru truth or dare?” 

“Truth.” 

“Who’s the hottest person you know?” Her eyes twinkled teasingly. 

“Waka Inoue of course. She’s sexy as hell!” Satoru slapped his hand on his heart as if he was saluting. 

“Really? You still have a crush on her?” Suguru questioned. It was his turn to pout. “Am I not enough?” 

“Baby you’re plenty, but you can’t replace a huge rack,” Satoru’s voice was steady as if he was talking about the most important thing in the whole world. 

“I can’t argue with that.” Suguru sighed defeatedly, his shoulders slumping down dramatically. 

“Ugh. I shouldn’t have asked that. Both of you are so weird and gross about women,” Shoko grimaced regretting her decisions and lifted the cigarette to her mouth as if to cover the bad taste of Satoru’s words. 

The man in sunglasses ignored the criticizing words. “Suguru. Truth or dare?” 

“Dare.” 

“I dare you to share this,” Satoru lifted up a huge strawberry. “Like in Lady and the Tramp with Shoko,” he referred to the scene where the two dogs shared a spaghetti meal, eventually kissing. 

“That’s too small!” Shoko protested immediately, shaking her head. The idea of doing that with Suguru made her feel iffy. 

“I’m game if she is,” Suguru said and offered his palm to Satoru who plopped the berry in his hands. 

Shoko had a nervous giggle come out of her. 

“C’mon, it’s just a game. You can always let go after like one bite. This is truth or dare afterall,” Satoru coaxed. 

“Fine. But I won’t kiss you, not even a peck.” Shoko established her own rule and rolled her eyes. She put out the cigarette on the grass and left the butt there. 

“We’ll see about that,” Suguru laughed and picked at the stem that got thrown over next to the chewed up gum. 

He awkwardly came closer to the young female student and placed the bigger end between his lips. He looked silly, the red end peeking out of his mouth. Suguru attempted at mouthing the words ‘come closer’, but neither Satoru or Shoko understood his words but the context clue carried the point to Shoko. 

She got on her knees sitting on top of her legs and straightened herself out. Suguru was way taller than her, even when he sat. Her face approached Suguru’s who had a pink tint on his cheeks from the alcohol he had drank.  

She opened her mouth and barely bit down on the smaller end, her tongue touching the bumpy texture of the strawberry. 

“Ready. Set. Go!” Satoru exclaimed, motioning finger guns happily. His gaze was completely glued on his two friends. 

Suguru closed his eyes and he started to carefully nibble, closing dangerously on Shoko’s lips. She bit quickly, not really tasting anything and began to pull away in hopes of Suguru calling it quits too. 

Unfortunately she wasn’t fast enough. The last bits of strawberry fell down on Shoko’s lap when Suguru pressed his lips against hers, a faint red trail dripping on her chin. She didn’t move and her eyes widened in shock. Shoko didn’t know what to do so she just held her hands on her lap. 

Suguru pet gently behind the girl’s head kissing her motionless lips. His hand trailed down to her neck and all the way to her shoulder. Shoko felt the sweet taste in her mouth mixing with the alcohol, stranger’s saliva and nicotine as Suguru dragged his hand to the mound of her breast. The warmth emanating from his palm was enough to bring her back to reality and Shoko pushed the bigger guy off of her. 

“Why did you do that?” she snapped and crossed her arms. 

“Oh don’t get angry now. Have a drink and chill out.” Satoru sighed. He shuffled awkwardly and placed the almost empty tote bag on his lap and grabbed a new beer can from there. Shoko narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but did not want to make room for any weird thoughts that would imply even weirder things. “It’s just a joke.” 

“This is not the first time you take jokes too far.”

Shoko looked away from the two boys, disappointment turning into an ache in her heart and wiped her chin clean from the strawberry. She slipped on the ballerinas laying on the ground. 

“Seriously? You’re leaving because of this?” Suguru tilted his head, his voice defensive.

Shoko threw her cigarettes and lighter in her own purse checking the blanket for other stuff she had. 

“Yeah, I am. I’m not having fun anymore.” Her voice was cold as she was attempting to hide the nervous tremble in her body and almost jumped up throwing the bag on her shoulder. She turned around, once again crossing her hands against her chest as if to protect herself and started walking.

“Hey! Don’t you want your blanket with you?” Satoru yelled after her. The two guys sat on the quilt completely bamboozled. 

“Keep it! I don’t need it!” 

She didn’t eat strawberries for the rest of the summer. 

***

“Hey you really should sing this one!” Shoko laughed as she scrolled through the song list.

“Whaat? No that’s not even funny,” you laughed and slapped her arm gently. 

“Is it really not? Or are you just a bore?” Shoko taunted getting ready to put the song on.

“Can we sing something from this?” You pointed at the category called 2000’s hits. 

“I’ll pick something at random and you’re just going to deal with it,” Shoko laughed clearly tipsy too after the multiple drinks you both had drank. 

The disco ball was spinning around the small room painting the walls in hues of blue, red and green. Nanami sat on the couch nursing his whiskey as he stared off into space. The upbeat music filled the room, bass shaking the ground underneath your feet.

It was the first time going out after the events at Gojo’s house. Shoko had basically begged you to come with her to get shit faced complaining that she really needed someone to rant with. You told her that Utahime was right there and would probably love to listen to her, but she claimed that the woman from Kyoto had other plans for the weekend.

After arriving at the karaoke bar you had been taken back after seeing the stoic blonde man at the venue. You weighed the option of immediately leaving in your head, but your conscience did not allow you to do so, after leaving him so rudely hanging in the meeting. When the three of you had gotten your own private room you decided to immediately order shots and drinks with the only goal of getting absolutely black out drunk tonight despite having Nanami there. 

It was honestly rare to see him after work as he had preferred to keep his distance. He was wearing the same clothing he always wore, dress shirt ironed, necktie perfectly hanging against his chest as if he was on the clock. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he were to whip out a cursed tool onto the bar table. 

You clutched onto the microphone singing unevenly as you danced to the beat, half of the syllables disappearing to you being out of breath. Shoko cackled, almost folding over as she kept slapping her thigh eyes watering. She had drunk a few drinks less than you and she had been exceptionally happy even before drinking. Truthfully Shoko was quite a heavy drinker and she definitely should not have been as wasted as what she appeared to be. 

Nanami stared at the both of you, raising the whiskey glass to his lips after checking his wrist watch. 

“Come here! Sing with us!” You yelled to the mic only getting a slightly alarmed expression out of him as he shook his head.

“I think I’m okay with watching you two perform,” he said. 

You pouted but kept on singing, your concentration skills nonexistent. You did not notice the way Shoko glared at him, nudging her head towards you as she pointed the microphone in her hand towards him. 

Nanami cleared his throat under the threatening gaze and clumsily got up. 

“Oh my god! Nanamiii!” You screamed the noise so high pitched that even the speakers were unable to handle it and you could see how Nanami cringed at the sound. 

Shoko squinted her eyes and mouthed the word sing to Nanami. Shoko was not going to deal with you alone. 

The combination of the pop song and Nanami’s voice made you giggle as you hurrayed him happily. He was not a bad singer by any means, but his voice did not fit the song choice. You wondered to yourself, why had you not gotten shitfaced earlier when you had all the good reasons to. 

Shoko decided to take a small break sitting on the spot where Nanami had been earlier and inspected the brown liquid swishing in the glass. She stole a sip from it when Nanami wasn’t watching, not really caring about the fact that it wasn’t her drink.

You grabbed your drink from the table and drank from it and you kept on singing happily, almost jumping around. Nanami looked at you with a terrified expression when you moved side to side with the drink spilling on your hand, but you did not notice the wetness of it. 

“Hey, put that down before you drop the glass,” Nanami said and gently tried to take the glass from you.

“No, I want to keep this,” a pout formed on your face but you still did what he told and turned around swiftly to place the drink on the counter. Your vision was blurry, the lights slightly too bright and you lost your balance tipping over the glass that was already safely on the table. You felt yourself starting to fall but a strong arm snaked around your waist to stabilize you. 

The world felt like it was stopping when the arm around you changed into a tight rope that pressed around your ribcage. The karaoke room changed inch by inch to a vast room with a wall made of windows with a night view of the streets of Tokyo. The shattered drink turned into a broken light bulb on the floor. You felt a hot breath on your skin, but your body had gotten cold. It was as if you had been dunked into ice water, all the earlier excitement completely vanished. The disco ball spun around casting blue lights on the white haired man’s face that ogled you like a piece of meat. The imagery was so vivid and real in your mind that you reacted on instinct, elbowing the man behind you. 

The rope vanished around you as the windows melted to the concrete floor, the shadows of city lights turned back to the tacky illumination of the disco ball. You felt the remnants of cursed energy fizzing out like a soda can as your eyes landed on Nanami, who was slightly hunched over holding onto his side the pain making him grimace. You had no idea how much force you had actually used, but probably quite a lot judging by the way Nanami was reacting. 

Shoko stood there completely still, eyes filled to the brim with worry and confusion. Her lips were ajar and she gulped down wanting to say something, but she did not know what. 

“My apologies. I didn't mean to touch you inappropriately,” Nanami managed to say. The music track played in the background, but it felt empty without a drunken voice guiding it. He was lucky to have good reflexes, instinctually protecting himself from the blow, otherwise Shoko would have had a patient off the clock. 

“Uh,” Your mouth gaped at him hopelessly. He had done nothing wrong. 

“I’ll go for a cigarette,” you blurted out and left the room hurriedly. The long hallway stretched in front of your eyes as you looked at the numbers on karaoke booths, only muted colors flashing through the slightly translucent doors. You leaned on the wall as you dragged your feet forward arriving at the front desk that thanked you for your time, but you did not pay attention to them and turned to your left to stare at the steep stairway.

The steps were made out of wood with a black paint that had started to chip away and the walls were pure red, too bright and intense for your eyes. You focused on the door in front of you and barely saw the red walls around it as they got covered by a dark cloud, your way of seeing more animalistic than human.The only thing in your mind was the need to get some fresh air as emotions threw you around like a shipwreck at the sea. 

You pushed the door open and walked over to a bicycle stand choosing an empty spot where you plopped yourself on. You rocked yourself back and forth as you cried and gripped onto your skin painfully hoping that at least the physical sensation would put an end to your suffering. You started to be more aware of the familiar banging against your skull. 

The door of the karaoke bar opened as Shoko walked outside, her face now serious, resembling more the woman she was at work than the friend giggling at drunk people's jokes. 

“Hey. You forgot this inside.” She handed you your bag.

You wanted to answer something but you could not as the words got stuck to your throat. Your world flashed back and forth between sensations that you weren’t supposed to feel in this moment. The guilt and sadness ate you alive, nipping away from your vitals the more you tried to push them down. 

Shoko placed a cigarette between her lips and lit it up and offered it to you. You took it gladly off her hands inhaling the sweet smoke, but you almost ended up suffocating on it as your nose was too stuffed to handle it. Even the menthol taste was unable to help you with this issue. Shoko opened the green box once more to get herself a smoke as well. 

She took a drag out of it and watched your shuddering figure. 

“I saw you in the hallway with Geto. Something happened at Gojo’s right?”

You lifted your head up mascara running on your cheeks. Had you not been in such a bad state her words would have shocked you. 

“I can’t help you if you don’t want my help.” Shoko crouched down to your level. You stared at her face as she left out a puff of smoke that trailed around her face, the dark eye bags now more visible than ever. 

You choked on your tears once more, now openly wailing on the pavement your fingers digging into the soft flesh of your arm. You dragged your nails across yourself leaving pink trails behind it, the soft tingle covering the areas you had just clawed at. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” you cried, your words hard to decipher as your breath hitched. “I can’t keep on doing this. It’s all my fault. I’m so stupid,” you screamed snot falling onto your shirt. 

“So fucking stupid!” You impulsively pressed the cigarette butt against your thigh melting the cloth away the stinging pain shocking you as your skin shed its layers against the fire. 

You had no shame in your breakdown, frankly you did not even recognize the others that looked in your way speaking with hushed voices around you, as they tightened the grip on their partners hands. “That girl really needs to lay off the drinks,” someone had said loudly. Shoko had wanted to immediately pounce, but she held herself together. She knew that you needed her more. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, when you want to hurt someone else,” her voice was just a whisper. “Can I touch you?” She asked not wanting to trigger you further. You nodded. 

Shoko pulled you into a tight hug and you buried your face on her chest, holding onto her like it was the last thing keeping you afloat. You seeked comfort in her presence. 

“I want to die.” You gripped onto her tighter. “I’m so weak.”

Shoko stroked your hair, her own eyes watering as she listened to you wordlessly. She felt your pain almost just as viscerally as you were experiencing them now.  

“No matter… no matter what I do. I can’t escape them. I just want to be gone. I want to-”

Shoko shushed you and slipped her free hand into her pocket, digging out her phone. Almost ten minutes had gone by. She awkwardly opened her chat with Nanami trying to inform the man who was probably still sitting in their booth waiting for the two of you to come back. 

A male voice disturbed the two of you. “Is everything okay?” 

Shoko pressed her hand on your shoulder pushing herself up from the ground, she whispered to you to stay put, not that you really were in any condition to go anywhere. 

“Good that you’re here. I was just about to text you. Can you get us a taxi?”

“Of course,” he said and opened the app punching in your address that Shoko forwarded to him. He looked so much older and out of place in the busy street. 

This was the kind hearted and lovely Nanami that had forgiven you immediately, after you had punched him in the gut because you were fucked up in the head. The kind hearted and lovely Nanami that you couldn’t look in the eyes, because of a certain man whose name you felt like acid on the tip of your tongue. The thoughts in your head brought fresh tears to your eyes. You dangerously sailed in the deep waters of suicidal ideation, your tired hands opening the forbidden door.  

“It’s going to arrive in five minutes,” Nanami hummed. 

“I think you should go. I’ll handle this,” Shoko said, her voice full of pity. “I’ll keep you posted.”

Nanami nodded in agreement. 

“For what it’s worth, take care of yourself too.” Nanami’s words were carefully chosen, anticipating that you weren’t the only one who needed a hug. 

***

SHOKO’S MEMORIES, YEAR 2006

The beach was filled with people who enjoyed the way the sun spoiled them with its warmth. Shoko was sitting on a towel next to Mei Mei who applied generous amounts of sunscreen on her hand. They sat underneath a parasol that had been propped in the sand, covering them both from the direct sun. The brown haired girl watched as Utahime excitedly threw herself to the water. She had given up on trying to get Shoko and Mei Mei in the water as well. 

“Mei Mei, don’t you have a lot of experience with boys?” Shoko almost whispered and hugged her legs. Her beach shawl swayed when the breeze decided to start playing with the huge piece of cloth. 

“Are you trying to imply something?” Her voice was low and melodic but not at all accusatory. 

“No, nothing like that. I just wanted to ask you something.” Shoko shook her head flustered. “Is it normal for a guy to kiss a girl without asking?” 

Mei Mei burst into laughter. This was the question Shoko was getting all worked up for? 

“Shoko,” Mei Mei’s eyes glimmered softly when she said the younger girl’s name with gentleness that reminded her of a mother tugging a child into bed. “I did not take you for being this innocent,” she teased. 

“I’m not innocent,” the brown haired girl huffed with the unexpected blush decorating her cheeks.

“Did someone do that to you?” Mei Mei tilted her head curiously and offered the sunscreen bottle to Shoko who happily took it to her hands.

“If I tell you, will you promise that you won’t tell anyone?”

“If I’m honest, I don’t think I care enough to tattle. You got me curious now. Tell me,” she hummed as a smile curled on her lips. 

“Well uh.. Suguru kind of kissed me when we were playing truth or dare with Satoru,” Shoko explained . She ran her hand between the warm sand, the grainy texture giving her something else to think about. “It was a stupid dare on Satoru’s part. Dunno why I accepted it.” 

Shoko added that she did not want to kiss him under any circumstances but the boy had managed to go over her boundary with ease. 

“That’s it?” Mei Mei asked, raising her eyebrow. She was almost bewildered at how tame the story was. 

“Yeah.” 

The blue haired woman scoffed.

“Guys think that girls like it when they take control and in a certain sense they are right. Maybe they got their eyes on you? Although, I did think that Suguru and Satoru were..” Mei Mei’s voice trailed off as she thought. “It doesn’t matter.” She concluded. 

“If I were you. I’d go along with it.” Mei Mei suggested. 

“No way. I don’t like them like that. Besides that’s not what I asked for your opinion on.” 

“And?” Mei Mei turned her gaze on Shoko, her eyes hardening as she intensely stared at the younger girl. “Those two men are our generation’s strongest and you’re going to complain that one of them gave you a little kiss?” 

Mei Mei’s melodic voice dropped lower as she showed her true feelings of distaste towards Shoko’s views. 

“If I were you,” she started again, her voice tough and bitter. “I’d be securing my spot by their side and not planning to bring forth meaningless accusations over a game of truth or dare.” 

Shoko was at loss with the things that were being said to her. Now that she thought about it, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to speak with Mei Mei. 

“I did not say I was going to tell anyone,” her voice was squeaky like a little girl’s. 

“But you thought about that right?” Shoko did not deny nor confirm the accusation.

Mei Mei’s face softened. “Shoko, you’re a smart girl. You should know better than to get shaken by two boys, especially when you so eagerly lead them on.“ 

“..I don’t lead them on.”

“Then stop meeting them in your spare time. If you do that, guys will think that you’re willing. You’re not a kid anymore, they do notice that you’re a woman now.” 

She stayed quiet, Mei Mei’s words burning on her skin worse than the summer heat. She did not want guys thinking about her that way. She simply wanted to be their friend and the idea of boys and girls being unable to do that because of bodily differences made Shoko shudder. 

“You want to help your friends, right?” Mei Mei asked when Utahime got out of the water. 

Shoko nodded. 

“Then become a doctor. That’s the best you can do to others with the technique you have.” Her words were probably meant to be comforting, but they made Shoko’s heart sink to the bottom of the ocean. 

“Shookoo!” Utahime ran towards the two girls sitting on the beach towels. 

“Are you willing to swim now?” Sand and water droplets clung onto her radiant skin that the younger girl admired silently. Shoko felt her heart skip a few times in her chest when Utahime offered her hand to her. 

“Sure.” The shy smile stretched on Shoko’s lips. 

“I’ll stay here. But you guys have fun.” Mei Mei announced as she opened the book next to her the pages slightly crumpled up. 

Shoko did not really register Mei Mei’s voice anymore. She grabbed Utahime’s hand and the world slowly faded away around them. 

****

Shoko went through the bathroom nimbly avoiding piles of clothing or takeout bags as she looked through your bathroom cupboard. She found a bag of half used cotton pads and a micelar water from the mess.

The taxi drive had felt like eternity. Your tears had dried before settling in the car and numbness had taken over. Shoko helped you to your bed and said that she’d come back soon, closing the door behind her giving you some space to change into something more comfortable. 

The door opened. Shoko looked at you and sat on the bed. You were using a pillow as a support for your back. The night lamp’s warm color casted shadows around your puffy face. The woman shook the bottle in her hand and poured liquid on the white cotton pad and tilted your face towards hers. 

She pressed the pad on your eyelid carefully letting the mixture soak through the heaps of makeup on your face. You sniffled sadly before speaking. 

“I can do this on my own too.” 

“I want to do this,” her voice was soft as she spoke the makeup remover leaving your skin slightly cold. You simply nodded and admired the way her hair framed her face. 

“You know I’ve had my own bad experiences too,” Shoko said, her face turning to a slight frown. Her mind was sailing in memories that she had given up on trying to understand. 

You were at a loss of words. You wanted to pry, but it felt invasive. 

“With them? Really?” You heard yourself asking as you danced on the line of impropriety.

“Yeah,” Shoko hummed, “but we shouldn’t have this conversation yet. Maybe in the morning, but not now,” she tried to make her voice sound brighter, feel brighter as if it would fix everything. 

“Okay,” you said. Maybe she’s right about this. Shoko discarded the dirty cotton pad, simply placing it on the bedside table. It was at its limits the whole thing turned into the color of your foundation with the small black streaks of your mascara on it, or what was left from it. 

She held onto your face gently for a moment too long even after she was done. You opened your eyes to really look at her. She looked so sad and.. young? Yes young was the right word. She looked like a woman robbed out of something sacred. She had been so happy, so easy to excite in her youth, but now all she seemed to carry was baggage. 

Your drunken mind wanted to close the distance, but something held you back. Maybe it was all the answers that were still being withheld by her, maybe it was the understanding that it’s not the right time yet. 

“Can you stay the night?” you whispered. Shoko breathed in and opened her mouth to say something, but you were faster. “Please? Th-there’s some clothes you can borrow in my closet.” 

She stayed quiet and you waited patiently.

“I’ll stay.” 

You smiled weakly at her and muttered a gentle thank you. She shuffled up from the bed and walked over the closet you had pointed for her. You turned your back to her when you heard the rustling of clothing that she ended up piling up neatly on one of the spare chairs in your bedroom. 

You fluffed up the pillow next to you and lifted up the blanket when she climbed in. You turned your back to her as you lay down on your side. Your hand searched the light switch and then the room was pitch black. 

Shoko awkwardly came closer to you till your back was against hers and she played with your hair idly in the silence. The touch was friendly, your body slumping in relaxation almost immediately. It was nice to have someone there. You had gotten so used to being afraid of the nights. 

“Good night,” she said, her voice hoarse. 

“Night.” 

***

You woke up alone with no trace of the woman in your room. She had gotten up earlier than you and dressed up back to the clothes she had in the bar. You hugged your plush blanket, almost burying your whole face underneath it, not ready to face the day.

Your head hurt and you felt nauseous. How is Shoko even able to do things? You wondered to yourself.

The faint knock on the bedroom door disrupted your thoughts as the door opened slightly. 

“I made a sandwich for you and found some painkillers, if you want any,” she said and you heard her steps further away again. 

You groaned and threw the blanket away from your body, the cold greeting you roughly. 

Your kitchen had gotten miraculously cleaner, the multiple empty beer cans piled in a bag and the dishwasher hummed quietly. You stared at the brown table in front of you that had two sandwiches and glasses of water on it, hunger long gone from your body. 

“You really should drink less.” Shoko picked up another empty can from the counter just to place it in the bag.

“Like you’re the one to talk.” You sat on the chair with its legs squeaking against the floor with your rough treatment. 

You grabbed the pill bottle and rattled out two tablets that you threw in your mouth and drank barely enough water to chase them down. 

“What do you remember?” Shoko asked and sat in front of you. She wasn’t feeling very hungry either. 

“I remember punching Nanami and the talk we had before we fell asleep,” you mumbled, playing with the edges of the slightly crusty lettuce between your sandwich. You had meant to use it on a salad a few days ago, but you were too tired to cook for yourself. Even the simple things were hard. “What did I tell you?”

“Nothing. You were just crying.”

Oh. So it was like that. 

“They assaulted me.” Your face was stern, emotions hidden behind a wall. The words felt weird. It was the first time you had actually said it out loud.

Shoko’s face widened from shock. 

“They what?” 

“Don’t make me repeat it,” you hissed. 

“Sorry, I won’t.” 

The silence felt unbearable and you stuffed your face full of bread just to do something. 

“They did something similar when we were still in school.” Shoko ripped the hangnail painfully from her skin and pressed on the miniscule wound with one of her fingers. 

You chewed the sandwich aggressively without tasting anything, the texture turning to mush in your mouth. 

“Why didn’t you warn me?” Your words were way more accusatory than what you wanted. 

Shoko turned her head to the side looking hurt by your sudden outburst. Her eyebrows scrunched together in pain as she looked for the perfect words, but there were none. 

“You admired them. I didn’t want to take that away from you, and when I realized that I probably should have said..”

“Bullshit, Shoko. It’s been ten years. I deserved to know, you could have-”

“Stop blaming me for their shit!” she yelled. Shoko never yells. 

You fell quiet. You reined in your anger, its hands still attempting to reach out to anything it could latch on. She was right. It’s not her burden to bear, but you still couldn’t help but feel powerless, when there could have theoretically been someone who could have told you to not go there. 

“Sorry,” you simply said just to drop the topic. Shoko sighed defeatedly and pushed her head briefly against her hands. She understood the anger, she really did. 

“They drugged me and then raped me together. I don’t remember a lot from it. I fought back – well attempted to,” your voice shook as you spoke. 

The brown haired woman simply looked at you with silent empathy. 

“Did you at least get one good punch in?” 

Your lips curled into a downhearted smile. The memory of your feeble fight playing in your mind, the weakness and despair of it all, a futile attempt of a prey to preserve their life just one moment longer. 

“Not a single one,” you laughed hollowly as one tear rolled on your cheek and your lips trembled. “But I did rip some hair out of Geto at the school,” you tried to brighten your voice and be brave. 

Shoko’s eyes watered and she answered your smile with her own. 

“Good.” 

The almost happy expression faded from your face. Everything hurt, never had you ever thought to be in a situation like this where you were exchanging devastation with your friend like gifts on christmas. 

“Why did you stay? Even Nanami left for a while, you could have done the same.” Your question was gentler this time. 

Shoko pondered for a minute, not sure of her answer either. 

“Because this is the only way I could help. I had you and Utahime and I didn’t want to leave you two behind. Besides what else was I supposed to do? I’ve been given a technique that can save many if I choose right. Had I left a lot more could have died because I wasn’t here — all because of what two men did,” she tried to put her thoughts together. 

“There’s a reason why Utahime doesn’t like Gojo,” Shoko blurted out and played with her hair. 

You took a careful sip of water as if you were trying to carefully dissect the different flavors of Shoko’s words. 

“What do you mean? Did they do something to her as well?” 

“No. I just mean that women know, you know? I think it’s in our blood to recognize danger. That’s one of the reasons she despises him. But this is just my thought, not an universal truth,” Shoko wondered out loud. 

She breathed in once again as if the words she was about to speak were too painful. 

“I think sometimes us women have to carry the atrocities of men. There’s no rhyme or reason why they do certain things. At least that’s what I’ve been telling myself. I never went through what you did, but I can’t say that I’m surprised,” she mused. “I’m sorry though. What you went through. It’s not right.”

Her brown eyes stared at you expectantly. You chewed on your lip nervously and tapped the empty plate with your nail, the small tinkle sound working as a metronome. 

“No, it’s not,” you huffed. But it feels like it’s my fault. If I had not gone there, if I had not idolized them – loved them even. This wouldn’t have ended this way. It was easier to leave those words in your head. 

“So what now?” You looked at Shoko, your eyes pleading, asking for answers, guidance, anything she would be able to provide to you. You knew there was nothing clear cut Shoko could say, but god how you wished that someone would know what to do. 

Shoko shook her head in defeat as if telling you that she wasn’t able to point you on the right track like that. 

“Whatever you want. You can stay or go, but you don’t have to carry it alone,” Shoko said, her face gentle. You could still draw out the remnants of the young girl from the year two thousand and six on her features. The lines were almost faded but they were still there. 

You found kinship in her even if neither of you had shared the full story of what had happened. You weren’t there yet and you weren’t ready. Instead the two of you skirted around words unspoken finding solace of at least having someone who could understand. It was up to the both of you what to make out of the confessions of the past. 

[molsno]

one of mainstream feminism's largest failures of the past decade or so was the propagation of the term "toxic masculinity." I don't mean to say that the ways that men uphold rigid, overly-restrictive notions of masculinity shouldn't be discussed and criticized, but the name given to this phenomenon failed to accurately describe it for what it is: transmisogyny.

I think that here, julia serano's definition of transmisogyny makes it clear why that's a better word to describe this phenomenon. transmisogyny is the intersection between oppositional sexism, which is rooted in the belief that male and female are rigid, mutually exclusive, and "opposite" categories with no overlap between them whatsoever; and traditional sexism, the presumption that femininity is innately inferior to masculinity. when these two forms of sexism intersect, the result is transmisogyny.

when you look at it this way, it becomes clear why "toxic masculinity" is an insufficient term. when a man chastises a young boy for crying, or when a woman mocks her male date for ordering a fruity drink at a bar, it's a message that communicates two things:

"you're a man. that behavior is categorized as feminine, so it is off-limits to you."

"because that behavior is categorized as feminine, doing it anyway will make you inferior to other men."

because the message is a combination of these two forms of sexism, it's transmisogyny, even if the person being chastised is not transfem or even gender non-conforming. however, let's be clear: this doesn't mean that men are uniquely victimized by transmisogyny. while yes, it is painful for some men to be held to these expectations, by and large, it is men who stand to gain the most by upholding them.

the goal behind this particular instance of transmisogyny is to discourage men from becoming "lesser" in the eyes of society. it is to punish them for being feminine, so that they will police themselves without anyone needing to punish them further. it is to prevent anyone assigned male at birth from even thinking about partaking in femininity. it is to stop trans women from existing, because we vehemently reject the notions that the two sexes are opposites with no overlap and that femininity is inferior to masculinity in the first place.

men benefit from this form of transmisogyny, and until now, they've never been held accountable for it. sure, maybe cis women will ridicule a man who refuses to order a lavender drink at a coffee shop and only uses 3-in-1 shampoo with "men's" in a big bold font on the label for being insecure in his masculinity, but this minor grievance is easily outweighed by the many privileges he holds for being masculine. maintaining these privileges is of the utmost importance for him, which is why, even after years of mainstream feminists raising awareness about and mocking "toxic masculinity," men still uphold and enforce the transmisogyny that allowed them to obtain these privileges in the first place. their position at the top of the gender hierarchy is a great place to be, and they can only stay there by ensuring that everyone else is firmly beneath them, with trans women at the very bottom.

and let me make myself clear from the outset, before this post starts circulating around and people start adding their own additions to it. it is a failure of mainstream feminism that this topic always begins and ends with discussions about men, when the people who are the most traumatized by this phenomenon are trans women. yes, it is unfortunate that many men have been so heavily conditioned by this phenomenon that they can't so much as cry when someone near to them dies, but I have very little sympathy for those men who then turn around and enforce the very same transmisogyny onto others.

furthermore, nowhere in this post did I say that only cis men benefit from this form of transmisogyny; trans men can and do uphold it, and likewise benefit from doing so, albeit usually to a lesser extent than cis men. even if they do so because their masculinity is called into question at a far greater rate than cis men's masculinity (and thus the stakes for failing to conform are higher), it still pales in comparison to how often trans women have been harassed and assaulted for failing to conform to the expectations of masculinity that were placed upon us all our lives, expectations which most of us never wanted anything to do with.

moving forward, we need to discard "toxic masculinity" as a term and start describing it for what it is: transmisogyny. we need to center trans women in the conversation, as we're the ones who are the direct targets of transmisogyny. we need to hold tme people accountable for enforcing these overly rigid gender roles in the first place - ESPECIALLY cis men, who benefit the most from doing so. and most importantly, everyone needs to stop talking over trans women when we discuss transmisogyny by redirecting the conversation to talk about how it hurts some other group. it should be enough that it hurts us. transmisogyny is the core of so many forms of gendered oppression that challenging it directly will benefit everyone in the long run, but it will have the most immediate and profound impact on us, and I think that's an important enough reason to work to combat it.

[gh-0-stcup]

Riley failed because the writers didn't understand the archetype they were trying to convey and their audience.

Riley's the all-American boy next door. His character model was so pervasive in other media because it's wholesome, simple, and nostalgic. Calling back to a nebulous time when people were nice, helpful, and virtuous. (Actually a rose tinted view of a nonexistent past - it calls back to the viewers childhood when everything felt that way.)

The most important thing with this character model is the feelings it evokes in the audience. The character must come across to the audience as

A moral paragon

Safe

The problem is that this type of character also has deep associations with heteronormativity, sexism, and racism. They have been used numerous times in media to help uphold and propogate these ideas.

But BTVS' very premise stands in direct opposition to the American values this character model tends to embody. It's more likely that this archetype will evoke the exact opposite feelings it's supposed to in fans of BTVS. They're more likely to have been victimized in their lives by the messaging imbeded into it.

It could have worked extremely well had the writers considered what would evoke the same feelings with their own audience.

Take one of Riley's early scenes - punching Parker for his comments about freshman girls and toilet seats. It's mentioned after that Riley does not take issue with his friends talking about women in "worse" ways. He reacted the way he did because he's got a crush on Buffy.

Imo, this is the moment the character failed. If you want to sell a character like Riley as a love interest to audience like BTVS', you must ensure the line between chivalry and chauvinism is never crossed. Once it is, that character's virtuousness will forever come across as a facade. A way to have control and possession over women under the guise of protecting their honour.

A minor adjustment to this one scene would help reframe Riley's motivations. He doesn't take kindly to men speaking that way about women, but it is odd for him to react violently.

In this version, he's someone who respects women in general but has more rash reaction than normal because his crush on Buffy is shaking him up. It also suggests he's not a man who's typically quick to violence.

Another important scene is when Riley finds Buffy outside at night and insists on walking her home. She puts up a fight, commenting on the sexism of assuming boys can take care of themselves but girls need to be walked home. Riley's response is that yes, this is absolutely what he believes.

Now, Riley is a trained soldier who knows there's very serious danger lurking around at night and does not know that Buffy is anything other than a tiny civilian. It's understandable that he would insist upon protecting her. The issue is entirely with how the dialogue is framed.

A better answer to Buffy's question would be "You shouldn't have to." Set him up as a man who understands many women can protect themselves, but believes his role is ensuring they never have to.

It shifts these gender roles from "woman weak, man strong" to Riley's sense of honour. Focuses on how he derives meaning from protecting civilians and those he cares about. Helps shed light on the mentality that led him to becoming a soldier and suggests that being a soldier is tied to his sense of identity and personal values.

It also more firmly shifts being a soldier from a day job to a duty for Riley. It gives him a connection with Buffy, who also believes it is her responsibility to use her strength to protect people.

Just two very simple shifts in dialogue and Riley's a much better character. Amazing how they got it so wrong without even understanding what mistakes they made.

[boreal-sea]

Reactive vs Proactive activism.

I had an epiphany in the car today while running errands.

I was thinking about this specifically in context with feminism, and trends I've personally noted. And probably, someone else has already talked about this topic, I'm sure I'm not the first.

I want to preface this with the following: I am not saying that one type of activism is necessarily better or worse. I think they're both necessary in the world we live in.

Reactive activism is activism that happens after a wrong has already taken place. Calling someone out for their sexism, the #MeToo campaign, working at a battered women's shelter, protesting a company that is actively campaigning against abortion rights, teaching classes for men who want to unlearn toxic masculinity - all of these are examples of reactionary activism. Reactionary activism is absolutely necessary. Healing wounds is necessary.

Proactive activism includes things like voting for progressive candidates, offering birth control, raising children outside the influence of misogyny and toxic masculinity so you break the cycle of abuse, going to schools and teaching safe sex, educating people about the lgbtq community, teaching all children homemaking skills, etc. We need proactive activism to stop harm from happening in the first place, and to actually FIX the world around us. Just reacting to harm after the harm is done will never actually heal the world.

And I think some kinds of activism fall into both categories. I think teaching adult men how to be homemakers, for example, can be both reactionary and proactive. It's reactionary because it's repairing the damage done to them in their childhood, and it's proactive because it allows them to be better partners and better parents, preventing future harm. I think a Planned Parenthood clinic is another great example, because it serves folks who want to prevent harm, with birth control and condoms and community education, but it's also there if harm does happen, and can provide abortions and resources for abuse victims and testing and treating STDs.

I think both kinds of activism are necessary.

[stick-ball]

Hi! I'm about to end my whole career!

Here goes the Riko rant that dear @capcavan asked, demanded and begged for.

You know, I get it.

So here's the thing. I get it, Riko sucks. He is the bad guy we all got hung upon. Why? Because he is a rival for our protagonist. He is an angsty, young guy, born into wealth that came from money laundering and human trafficking. It's despicable, the Ravens are bullies and he himself makes lots of bad things happen. Yeah sure, I get that, whatever.

Being raised as a superstar must've been really, really difficult for you.

But I want to really dig deeper right now, this is a Riko rant after all, and you need to really know your fighters. So, to start: a huge trap in toxic families is that the children, even when grown up, will refuse to identify their parents and guardians as negative and toxic people. Not even outside influence can really sway them, usually. Kids that get away from a sinister situation can later tell they were abused, that it wasn't right, but still, they don't get the specifics of what and why, and they are doomed to repeat the same abuse and call it good. Call it right. And sometimes that's substance abuse, sometimes thats domestic abuse, sometimes that's racism and sexism and xenophobia they will grow into believing as the way the world works. Sometimes, thats nepotism and sadism. Only thing that can help is therapy and an environment removed from the control of the original abuse, lots of therapy, lots of space, years of it. A perfect case of a typical toxic family is Aaron.

A perfect case of that could also be Riko.

And here you can call bullshit because Neil had such a fucked up, abusive father and he *knew* it was wrong. Yes, he knew it was wrong for his father to hurt him to the measure he went. Why? Because his mother protected him, because his mother feared his father, not adored him. Because his mother took him away and kept running. A mother, a role model a child feels very strongly about, subconsciously.

Riko was taken from his mother. He was pushed aside by his father and left in the care of a family member, who was easy to glorify for an impressionable child. Because he was a legend. In fanon I often see Tetsuji's character taking a very background role in everything, and sure, he seems pretty background to Neil, because every bad guy seems background to Neil in comparison to his Father - besides Riko, who is the one dangling that threat in front of him. Tetsuji just wants his property back, Riko is playing with fire though. So yeah to us, reading the story, Tetsuji is a total asshole among many such men in the book.

But to Riko he must've meant almost everything for a long time. A crucial thing about Tetsuji is, he is a sadist. Oh sure, sorry, it's only called sadism when done against his team, right? Against Jean or Kevin or Neil? When it comes to Riko, who was in his care for all of his formative years, it was just strict childbearing right? He is a Moriyama after all, so he is evil from birth.

Yeah, I must've mixed something up about Riko being beaten to unconsciousness several times being mentioned in extra content. You think that was a one, two, third times the charm occurance?

Always a commodity, never a human being, not a single person in your family thinking you’re worth a damn off the court— yeah, sounds rough.

I always wondered how sarcastic Neil was saying this. I mean, he definitely meant to land a punch where it would hurt. And he actually knew Riko as a little kid, so he knew more than most.

Stockholm syndrome is very common among victims of childhood abuse. I would know, anyway. It's like the most logical option - the survivior is living in a dual reality. These people are my family, the care for me. They provide for me. They want me to be the best. They also abuse me. They hurt me, but it's for the best. Hurting me is a expression of love. I am grateful to them.

I often wonder how many people who read the books know what a commodity is. A commodity, in the most basic terms, is a basic good that can be used in ccommerce to interchange with goods of the same type. A commodity is not a king, or a queen, or a bishop or a knight, or even a rook. It's a fucking pawn. It's cannon fodder.

Riko is worthless to his family. Riko is just a tool to Tetsuji to generate profit. Riko wants to be worthy to his family. Riko most likely loves his uncle and is ready to do the most insane thing if only it gives him the one thing he desires, which is being seen as worthy by his family.

Kevin and I talk about your intricate and endless daddy issues all the time.

Then there's grooming. Grooming is more obvious when it's done by a stranger who sees the child randomly or in some intervals of time. It's much harder to resist when it's constant. To Riko, Tetsuji is a good person, he is a hero, he is his family, he cares for him, they have a common goal. Riko wants to be what Tetsuji wants him to be. There is a price to pay for it, of course. There is a price for everything. But the price doesn't matter. Riko wants to pay the price he has to pay, to be what Tetsuji wants him to be.

And the thing is, do you think Riko learned how to use his money and crime connections to control others? How to gain power through fear and pain? You think spending his whole life locked in a fucking stadium he taught it to himself how to break people in body and spirit? That torturing them was his special interest? Or maybe are you forgetting that amongst valid responces to trauma, besides fight, flight and freeze there is also fawn? Don't you think it's much more likely, being groomed and enamoured with his captor (bcs thats what Tetsuji is to me, their captor) he impersonated him to the best of his ability? That he learned every leaf in the book from him, because he was his only connection to the family, to his father, to his brother. He was a legend, the creator of exy. Wasn't he always trying to be worthy of him? To be good enough to be loved and wanted? To be great full enough?

I am not saying this absolves him of any of the things he did, but people do insane things under lesser influence, things they would never do otherwise. And I am not talking of people groomed from early childhood, I'm talking of sane adults, being dragged into dangerous and destructive ideologies.

I know it’s not entirely your fault that you are mentally unbalanced and infected with these delusions of grandeur, and I know you’re physically incapable of holding a decent conversation with anyone like every other normal human being can, but I don’t think any of us should have to put up with this much of your bullshit.

Because it isn't, is it? The things HE does ARE his fault, definately. But the reason why? That is not that easy to pinpoint. And Riko is so unstable it hurts. He is so far removed from real life he is completely incapable of conversation. He is a child brought up in a grave, but...

Pity only gets you so many concessions, and you used yours up about six insults ago.

To me Riko is besides all other things, wasted potential. All the things he dreamed of? He could have had them. He was talented, he was determined and had a lot of courage, but all of that was utterly wasted in the violence and malice he was soaked in. In all the violence and malice he created in return.

So please, please, just shut the fuck up and leave us alone.

The most interesting thing about All for the game though is, that in every other book Riko dying would've been the big bad wolf being defeated. But here, that's just a bleep on the radar. Because Riko was a product, not the producer. What I love about All for the game is it shows none of the madness and evil in life started or ended with me or you, with Riko or Neil. Not even with Keylight or Tetsuji. Fuck it did not even end with Nathan dying. It all ends how it begun. With a deal with the devil made in the back of a car, bought with blood money.

[crybaby-bkg]

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: threats of violence, fear, graphic imagination of violence, chasing, guns, gun violence, blood, gunshot wounds, mention of sexism, PTSD flashbacks, unmentioned men harming reader in the past (not graphic), sexist language, mentions of you bleeding Word Count: 3.2k Notes: first chapter already woooo!! this is more of an intro to how everyone gets to meet each other. I hope you all enjoy!! <3 Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI

Main Masterlist AO3

Medusa [meh-doo-za] noun - guardian; protectress; an evil meant to protect others from evil; a threat; a victim

***

Your heart races as your feet pound against the rough pavement, cutting sharp corners with every quick turn. You’re too afraid to look over your shoulder, afraid that you’ll find faces that will haunt your every dream for years to come, sneering at you. Afraid you’ll lose your footing, that you’ll stumble, fall prey to the monsters hunting you for sport. 

You can’t breathe. Your chest hurts, tight, your lungs squeezing with every shaking gasp you inhale. They’re getting closer—they’re right on your heels—they’re gonna get you—you’ll be dead come morning, unrecognizable. 

There’s a sudden whooshing sound not too far off, and you think that it must be one of their quirks, that its truly the end for you. Instead, you hear the sounds of scuffling, of punched out breaths, of bodies hitting the pavement, of pained groans. 

You still don’t slow down, don’t stop, not until you’re safe, until you know that they can’t catch you anymore. But you’re stopped suddenly, by a burly chest too wide for any normal human. 

Your feet come skidding to a halt, barely managing to stop yourself before running into this wall of a person. Your eyes frantically search their face, and you’re even more afraid now. Is he with them? Is he apart of all of this? He’s no better than the men chasing you, after the videos of his son proclaiming abuse went viral all those years ago. 

“There’s no need to run now, the Pro’s are here.” Endeavor’s voice is booming in the echoing alleyway, and it only unnerves you even more. You can feel your knees wobbling, knocking against each other. You hadn’t even realized that there were tears until they muddled your vision, hadn’t realized you were shaking until the chatter of your teeth is audible. 

“Please, let me go.” You whisper, meek, voice barely understandable from the clacking of your jaw. Endeavor looks down at you confused, eyebrows furrowing as his lip grits. He reaches a hand out, and you jerk yourself back so hard that you stumble, tripping over a bottle left in the alleyway. 

You land hard on your back, but you never take your eyes off of the man in front of you. He tries to reassure you, tries to help you but—but his hands are too big, and those hands have hurt those closest to him, and they’re too wide, too familiar, remind you too much of the men behind you. 

Where are the men, anyway? Have they hidden somewhere, ready to plot their attack with the number one hero? Are they all in on this? Are they all going to hurt you, maim you, assault you? 

Your panicked breaths echo loudly, your hands shielding you from the too large form that still stands above you. He doesn’t try to reach out for you anymore, only glances off to the side as he speaks seemingly to nobody before his eyes dart behind you. You’re too afraid to look, think it might be a trick for you to lower your guard so he can rip out your trachea with his bare hands. 

You scream when someone gently touches your shoulder, feels like they’ve dropped hot coal onto your skin, feels like the flesh drips down your tattered clothing. But as you whip your head around, you come face to face with something—someone, softer. It’s the bunny hero, and she smiles gentler than you have ever seen her do on TV. She’s saying something to you, but your ears feel like they’re stuffed with cotton. All you focus on is the fact that, finally, you might be safe now. 

Her knuckles are bloody, and you see her nudge her head back behind her, get a glimpse of a stack of bodies trailing oh so fuckin’ close to you. It makes you flinch at the sight, at the leader with his hands still outstretched toward you, nails barely skimming your ratty shirt. You gasp, sobbing, inching and inching away from him, find yourself comforted in muscular but such soft arms. 

Miruko holds you gently, shushing you and cradling you under her chin. She sits on her knees, dragging you closer to her, shielding you from the men who were so close to ruining you, from hurting your further. Your own voice doesn’t even sound familiar once the fuzziness in your head clears as it bounces off the grimy walls with every hallowed sob that racks your entire body. She tries to get you to breathe, to calm down, but you’ve checked out since you crawled into the safety of her arms. 

As the ambulance arrives and more pro heroes show up, you sit in Miruko’s lap, shaking, thinking to yourself, promising, that this will be the last time you ever need saving. 

…

It takes months to rebuild yourself. Months of healing, of therapy appointments, of physical rehab, of integrating yourself back into society again. 

And even then—its not enough to heal you. 

Your therapist tells you that you need to move on, and you tell her that she must be a fucking quack. The next one tells you that you need to forgive the men that hurt you, and you tell him that he must’ve faked his shitty degree. And the next one is the same, and so is the one after that, until they all just start running together with the same advice. 

Do not give power to the men who hurt you. Its bullshit, you think. They don’t have any fuckin power because they were smashed to fuckin smithereens by Miruko’s heel. But apparently, your “kill all men who hurt others” ideology is “dangerous” and “directed at the wrong people.” You think you’re justified, and you don’t need anyone with a stupid fucking degree to be a yes man and agree with you. 

You don’t need anyone to agree with you—well, except for your fans online who praise you. 

Almost a year after being attacked, you became a hero for the people in your community who were oftentimes overlooked by pro heroes—male pro’s, especially. If women weren’t doling out their bodies in exchange for saving, then they might not be saved at all. 

That’s where you come in at. You trained your body to become stronger, more flexible, more agile, pushed yourself in such little time you’re surprised your body hasn’t clonked out on you yet. But its not your time to give up, to roll belly up and let the cruelness of the world swallow you whole. It almost did once—you weren’t letting that happen again. 

The public dubbed you as “The Red Medusa” because of your crimson stained outfits and the medusa tattoo visible on the center of your chest you always wore proudly. It was fitting, especially since you always seemed to exclusively fight men who were witnessed hurting a woman, or child. You didn’t have a quirk, but it wasn’t needed when you had a multitude of guns and the ability to lay someone out cold. 

Many men had tried to retaliate against you, especially the pro heroes whose egos were shattered whenever you publicly called them out online for their gross negligence and misogyny. But none had ever managed to catch up with you or leave without at least two extra holes in their body. 

Dynamight was one of them. 

…

He was cocky at first, with his too big grin and flashy quirk. You couldn’t stand the up and coming hero, with his shitty sexist comments made a couple months ago. He tried to backpedal, claim that his words were taken out of context, that it was all to just make him look bad. 

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t believe any of them, ever. 

“Getting tired, aren’t cha?” Dynamight calls out to you, aims another explosion where you stood only seconds ago. You can see the frustration in his face when he realizes that he missed you, that you’re quicker than you should be to just be a quirkless vigilante, as the media likes to call you. 

“Looks like you’re the one slowing down, shit head.” You shout back at him, sneering at his scowl. You two have been at it for only a few minutes now, and you know that in any second, more heroes are going to arrive and that they’ll outnumber you. You don’t work well with multiple attacks at once, and you’re damn sure not gonna go down yet. You’ll have to make this quick. 

As Dynamight soars through the air again, he aims another explosion at you, and you hold your breath as you wait for the right moment to strike. One second too late and he’ll have blasted your entire right side straight off of your body. You refuse to die by this sexist pigs hands. 

You inhale when you feel the heat of the blast, launching your body back just in time, don’t even wait for the smoke to clear from his explosion as you fire off two rounds into the orange hued air. Its silent for a split second before you hear it—a pained holler. But, you don’t expect for him to aim another blast at you. 

That one sends you reeling back, gasping sharply, as you dodge the brunt of it, but still feel the bottom half of your mask and neck catch licks of flame. You sit up quickly, ripping the mask off, eyes darting all around you in the isolated parking lot, wonder where his body has landed. You catch a glimpse of his boot retracting behind a blue sedan slowly, and you wonder how badly you must’ve hurt him. 

You hope its fatal. 

You should leave. You know you should leave, especially since gunshots were fired, the pro’s are definitely on their way now, and you’re face is exposed. But Dynamight just can’t let you bow out gracefully. 

“That was a cheap fuckin’ shot, you know.” He calls out to you from behind the car, taunting you. You know you shouldn’t fall for it, but you’re not gonna let this asshat discredit the move you had been honing in on for him specifically. 

“Nah, you’re just predictable.” You answer him, hissing at the sting of your jaw and chin from where his explosion grazed you. You pat at your face, finding specks of blood on your fingertips, eyes widening at the sight. None of the other men you had faced had made you bleed, never had enough close contact to let them. And yet—and yet your fingertips are stained crimson and you’re taken back to them. 

A group of faceless men stand around you, laughing at the pained moans emitting from your throat…one slaps you across the face…your hair is being tugged in every which way…you’re worthless, they keep repeating…condemned to rot away like the worthless bitch you are…

Before you know it, your legs are carrying you behind the blue sedan, and in hindsight, its a terrible fucking thing to do, exposing your identity like this. But Dynamight has become those faceless men to torture you all over again, and you think…you think he needs to pay the price for making you bleed. 

“Apologize.” You whisper, standing above him, barrel pointed right in the middle of his forehead. He looks like shit, with dust in his ash blond hair, blood leaking from the corner of his mouth, a hole in his shoulder, another in his abdomen. His eyes cross to look at the gun before focusing his gaze on you, eyebrows pulled taut in confusion. He’s never seen you before without your mask, but you can’t focus on that right now. Its not like he’ll live to tell everyone who you are and what you look like after this. 

“Whaddya say?” He grunts, hissing through his teeth when he puts more pressure on his shoulder. It doesn’t phase you, his pain, no. The only thing you can focus on is the familiar throbbing in your jaw that has ached one too many times at the hands of…of…

“You heard me.” You snap, voice shaking. You wipe away the onslaught of tears with a quick swipe on your shoulder, sniffing quickly, as if he wouldn’t be able to see the pain muddying your face. 

“I got bad hearing ‘cause of my quirk. Ya gotta speak up, sweetheart.” Dynamight mutters, eyes fluttering shut as the pain gets to him. But its not enough, makes your teeth grit at his nonchalance. He doesn’t even fuckin’ respect you as a vigilante, the only protector of women in this society. You scream through your teeth in frustration, pressing the muzzle of the gun against his forehead directly until the cool metal stings, cocking it quickly. 

“Don’t fuckin’ call me sweetheart, you sexist piece of shit.” You snap at him, opening your mouth to tell him to apologize again, before he cuts you off with a confused grunt. 

“Sexist?” Dynamight asks, looking around the gun at you. “I’m a lotta things, but sexist ain’t one of ‘em.” He scoffs, gritting his teeth when you press the gun harder until the back of his head rests on the car behind him. 

“Don’t try to pull that shit with me. I heard your gross fuckin’ comments about Creati.” You snap at him, hands shaking, finger ready to pull the trigger. But Dynamight stops you again, with a dramatic groan as he rolls his eyes into his head. 

“I dunno how many times I gotta fuckin’ explain that that was taken out of context.” He says it like you’re the bother, the nuisance that annoys him, like a fly that just won’t go away. “That video was edited, I would never say some pig shit like that. ’S fuckin’ gross and shitty, and that ain’t me.” 

Most of the times, whenever you’ve confronted men for the shitty things that they had done, they either bragged about it to your face before having their teeth kicked in. Or, they denied it, up until your gun was cocked and aimed on their forehead—then they confessed. 

So why isn’t Dynamight confessing? You stare at him for a long while, at his paling face, how he coughs and groans every few seconds. He stares back at you, like he’s trying to get a good look at you, remember every detail that is the Red Medusa. He breaks the mutual silence with his stupid big mouth. 

“What, ya got cold feet? Nervous about your first Pro Hero kill, huh?” He smiles at you, teeth bloody, grin sharp. It makes you sneer at him, closing one eye as you focus your aim, trying to figure out why the fuck you’re hesitating—you never hesitate. 

“Get it the fuck over with already!” Dynamight roars at you, pressing his head against the gun, using his good arm to hold the barrel of it, jabbing himself with it. You clench your teeth, trying to fight off his hold, when there’s a sudden cracking sound in the distance. 

Instantly, your head snaps over to the sound, find big blocks of ice heading your way, a green flash quick beside it. Your heart drops to your ass—you won’t be able to fight both of them at the same time, and you needed more bullets. You look over to Dynamight, whose eyes are still locked on yours, ripping your gun out of his hands. 

“This isn’t over, asshole.” You bite at him. You dart off without another second, ducking to avoid the ice thrown at you, jumping over the cold obstacle thrown at your feet. You disappear into the woods behind the parking lot, staying low to the ground, as you hear the sounds of shouting bellow out behind you. 

Nobody chases you, though, and the thought of that both calms you and unnerves you. Being chased brings back a torrid of memories, but it feels good being able to cleanly escape without having to shoot someone from over your shoulder. 

***

“What do you mean we shouldn’t go after her?” Deku asks frantically, pulling out gauze from his utility belt as he tries pressing it to Dynamight’s shoulder. But the explosion hero only snatches it away from him with a grunt, holding it to his stomach, grumbling. He lets Deku hold the gauze to his shoulder, but not without a petty snarl. 

“Kacchan!” Deku shouts at him when his eyes close for too long. 

“What?” Dynamight shouts back, lids fluttering open and inflamed, but they don’t carry the same heat they usually do. Deku thinks he might be hurt—bad. 

“Why did you tell Todoroki to not follow her? That was the vigilante who’s been attacking people lately.”

“Men.” Dynamight corrects, hissing through his teeth when the bleeding won’t stop. “She’s been attacking men.” 

“As if that makes it any better.” Shouto replies back sullenly, eyes darting into the woods you disappeared into, but holds himself in place. He doesn’t know why he’s following Bakugou’s barked directions, but something about the urgency in his friends tone makes him stay rooted in his spot. 

“It explains why she’s doing what she’s doing. Just let her go, for now—I’ll catch her later.” Dynamight dismisses, head lolling back against the car as Shouto dials in for the paramedics to put a rush on the ambulance. 

“When?” Deku barks at him, eyebrows furrowed in worry as he holds his friends injured shoulder. “When will that be, Kacchan? When she kills another man?”

“Another rapist.” Dynamight spits. He doesn’t know why he’s going to bats for you when you just put a goddamn hole in his shoulder and stomach. But, it was something about the look on your face, the horror, when you held your bleeding fingertips inches away from your jaw. The empty look in your eyes, like he wasn’t the one you were talking to, like he was only a ghastly figure of every person that’s ever hurt you. 

“No matter a persons crime, it doesn’t give her the right to kill them. It’s against the law.” Deku states matter of factly, his voice low, eyes zeroed in on the blood now seeping out onto his own fingers. Dynamight is quiet for a long while, jaw tight, before he spits out,

“Well maybe the law should change.”

“And then what?” Deku answers him with a snap, eyes set ablaze. “We have civilians killing each other in the streets, create their own judicial system right in the comfort of their own homes?” Deku asks exasperatedly, nose scrunching in irritation when Dynamight leans forward, despite the hissed groan emitting from his throat. 

“It’s better than letting those fuckers—”

“Guys!” Todoroki snaps, looking over his shoulder as the two heroes bicker. “We can hash this out later. The ambulance is here.” Sure enough, there’s red and white lights flashing in the near distance, the sound off to keep from tipping off the press and scaring the civilians in the area. 

At that, Dynamight finally relaxes, body slumping against the car. Deku calls out his name, but he’s too tired to answer the broccoli looking fucker. He just wants to take a long nap before he can find the energy to contact a sketch artist when he awakes. He wonders if the artist in the precinct near his agency would be able to capture the likeness of you on paper. He wonders.

Chapter two — found here

please do not repost anywhere or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky

[jojikawa]

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘽𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝘿𝙞𝙤: 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘿𝙖𝙧𝙠 𝙐𝙧𝙜𝙚 | 𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙀𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩

WICKED EYES

MASTERLIST

This is a dark romance with descriptions of violence, gore, racism, sexism, and NSFW themes. The reader is black in this AU but this story can be enjoyed by all walks of life.

This chapter contains smut and NSFW descriptions. Slight gore warning.

Art by: Umikochanart dividers

Even to this day, Dio doesn’t know all of the secrets of the mask. His knowledge was exclusively surface level: The mask is activated with blood and unlocks the part of the brain that allows mortals to achieve Godhood. Almost every day he discovered new things about himself, the effect it had on his mind and body… and lastly, the effects it had on you. You’ve had a lot more time to adjust to your life as a vampire while Dio was stuck in a coffin.

The poor man had such a hard time controlling his hunger and it wasn’t like he gave a damn anyway. He drained pretty women—and men, that he hated, whenever he got the chance. He’s a God, why not feed whenever he wants? Although, he rarely saw you feed at all. He would be lying if he said he never had fantasies of you feeding on young women he favored. Unfortunately, Dio wouldn’t really see you indulge in your vampirism at all. You just read books and did anything except for what he wanted. How much can one person really read? He missed those days when the pining was mutual. He missed being about to make you blush and hide your face. He missed overloading your young mind with anxiety whenever he would kiss you. To this day he blames Jonathan for his shortcomings…even if it had nothing to do with him.

He made the decision to give you space. It may have been a bad idea but at the moment he didn’t know what else to do. Dio was on the cusp of madness, fighting hard against the violence that would ensue if he were to force you to love him. The world has done him so much wrong but the one thing he wanted to believe was true was your love. All the bad things you’d were things he never wanted to take as the truth. You were just angry. You’re always just angry. The fact that he felt insecure around you was baffling.

Perhaps, giving you space was a mistake. His bed was cold and empty without you. Since the moment you’ve arrived, you’ve given him the very warmth he lacked. The feeling of loneliness made him bitter. The kind of bitterness that turned into anger and would make him grit his teeth, clench his fist, and narrow his eyes at the nearest victim.

Dio’s mansion was big. Not nearly as big as his stolen castle from 100 years ago but he knew how to navigate it well. While looking for you, he couldn’t smell your scent at all. It was a sweet smell he memorized so that he would be able to find you in any situation…unfortunately, all he could smell was blood. It was fresh and the mere lingering scent made him lick his lips and smirk. Were you feeding? How adorable…but without him? That’s a hard pass. 

He followed the trail, coming across things he did not expect. He found…bodies. Dead bodies. He recognized them too. They were some of his human servants—no, all of his human subjects. Bloodless and twitching with delight. They would surely die very soon.

“(y/n)?”

When Dio found you, your back was turned, still dressed in black silk sleepwear. The room was dark, hiding the monster that you had become. When you didn’t reply, he could only grin. Now, he understood. “You aren’t as good at controlling your hunger as you think you are.” He reveled in the feeling of you being dependent on him.

“I don’t care.”

Dio chuckled to himself. No matter how you chose to speak to him, he only found you adorable. The best thing he could think of to describe it was one love for a pet. You bother your beloved so much and when they bite you, you don’t even feel angry.

“I see you’ve put your stand to good use.” Dio stepped over the bodies and kneeled down beside you. “It looks like you’re able to influence the actions of others or at the very least—their feelings towards you.”

“I don’t care, Dio.”

Dio’s expression fell for a moment. It’s been so long and you still haven’t warmed up to him since he lied. Not even Petshop fixed things permanently. The bird adored you and you spent a lot of the day taking care of them…all while ignoring Dio. You gave into his touch. You’d let him hold you and kiss you wherever he’d like but you still weren’t all there. It was like you’d disassociate and he didn’t enjoy it if you weren’t present.

“Enyaba told me that she overheard you having words with Kakyoin before his departure to kill Jotaro Kujo.” His arm snaked under the back of your knees and the other around your torso as he picked you up bridal style. “Is that so?” You uttered flatly. “And, word has gotten to me that Kakyoin has failed to kill Jotaro and the two have become fast friends.”

You couldn’t see Dio’s face but you could tell he wasn’t exactly happy at that fact. The subtle tonal shifts in his voice showed you that he was mildly annoyed.

But that was surprising. Kakyoin joined Jotaro? Because of your stand?

Dio wanted to be angry with you but his soft spot didn’t allow it. Instead, he wanted to get to the bottom of this issue with your stand. He composed a test. Dio took you to where he was supposed to be meeting his new subject.

The Mansion twisted in shape, the walls and halls becoming unfamiliar, never allowing you to navigate them without the help of your possessive husband. Where you arrived was unknown but it was near the entrance. There, in front of you, was Enyaba but she wasn’t alone. Next to her was a tall man. He was big but not the same build as Dio. He has silver hair that seemed to stand up on its own. “Dio, what is this?” You clung to his shirtless body, earning a smile from him.

“Enyaba, please, tell me who this is again?”

The old woman cackled to herself with a particular bow and arrow in hand. The same one she used on you before.

“This is Jean Pierre Polnareff. He has become our new associate, whether he wants to be or not.”

“Polnareff, eh?” If Dio wasn’t holding you, he would be stroking his chin mischievously right now. “(y/n), use your stand power on him. Whatever it may be.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Why?”

“I want to see if Polnareff too joins Jotaro.” 

“And if he does?!” 

Dio chuckled at your aggression. He often found your attitude endearing. “And if he does, he will perish along with the rest of them.”

You narrowed your eyes even further. “I am not doing this.” You wiggled your way out of Dio’s arms. He let go of you, almost dropped you but you landed on your feet. “This doesn’t feel like royalty. These people don’t feel like servants to me. This is a cult.”

“But, mademoiselle,” The Frenchman intervened. “I chose to follow Dio by choice. I do not mind this rite of passage if it means—”

“Oh, I know you didn’t.” You turned to Dio. “When is this supposed to end? Johnathan is dead. Erina is dead. I don’t understand why you need to still go after that family.”

“Polnareff, Enyaba, you’re both dismissed.”

And just like sheep, they left.

Your arms were at your sides. Your clawed hand clenched itself just a little, readying you for whatever might possess Dio to act out in response to you questioning his motives. Although he was frightened to most, your fear for him dulled. Your disagreements with him evolved into just wondering what he’d do next.

The pit of anxiety suddenly blossomed in your stomach. He opened his mouth to speak but none of what he was saying to you could be heard. The deafening static of your mine filled your head and clouded your eyes. Dio was the source of your stress; the source of your undying body and insatiable hunger. You failed to resist acting on your own, feeling the need to protect yourself by inflicting pain before it could be inflicted upon you. You wanted to erase him.

You blacked out.

Sinking your teeth into him wasn't something completely foreign. Dio believed it to be a sign of uncontrollable love. Only he would allow his blood to be drawn by you…usually, if it were more…consensual.

His blood barely touched your tongue before he used The World to pry your sharp talons for nails out of his body.

“How many people have you killed?”

You flinched. “Wh-What?” His voice brought you back to reality, blood pooling from small wounds in his shoulder blades and running down his arms. They sealed themselves before he repeated himself. “How many people have you killed in your lifetime?”

“I-I haven’t killed anybody.” You shook your head in disbelief, showing genuine fear all over your face. Dio’s face remained unchanging. “But you have. Several of my servants, actually. Don’t tell me that it’s already left your mind.”

Your expression visibly changed to one of sorrow. “I didn’t…”

Dio’s lips went from neutral to a twisted grin. “So, that’s how you’ve stayed fed all of this time. I figured that such unladylike behavior wasn’t foreign to you, given your response from before…but now, it’s as if you have no recollection of it. Interesting.” he chuckled to himself, using his free hands to explore your body. He loved the pain inflicted on him. It was sexy, after all. He loved how the humanity left your eyes when you would taste the blood of others. He loved your embarrassed expression that washed over your face once you’ve gotten enough blood to stave off the hunger. It was like an urge you couldn’t control. Your primal instincts would take over and Dio enjoyed the idea that at any moment, you could kill him. Just like how you killed those poor non-stand users.

“Stay in denial all you’d like—in fact, I like it much better that way.” His arms fit perfectly at the curve of your back. The smell of the sanguine fluid pouring out of his wounds was intoxicating. He wasn’t healing himself on purpose. He wanted to entice you with his body. You felt him pull you closer against him, it filled your body with warmth and lust. You hated him but you wanted him too.

Buried deep inside of you, was a naive part of you that wanted to love Dio. The part of you gave your first kiss to him—the part of you that longed to have someone love you back, regardless of your upbringing or background. Who was lucky? You or Dio? You wanted to believe that Dio was lucky to have you, given how rotten he is but…could anyone else want you like this? You were a monster.

“I accept you for who you are and whoever you’ll turn out to be.”

You were speechless. You didn’t know how genuine his love for you was; if you could even call this love. Would you feel better if you just accepted him and his way of expressing himself?

You thought of Jotaro and his family. You thought of Joseph. And lastly, you thought of your child with Dio.

The feeling of his hand rubbing your cheek tenderly almost made you shiver. He could be so nice when he wanted to and you craved his gentle touch. Although, his words and actions felt oddly familiar. It was almost like Deja Vu. Was he…re-enacting the love interest’s actions from the novel you were reading before?

The Immortal Knight held his Immortal Princess in a time of uncertainty.

Those are the first words that came to your mind. You didn’t doubt that Dio accepted you but you stayed silent anyway. Never in your life have you met someone like him.

His fingers made your way to his chin and tilted your head up just a bit. Your face was once again filled with innocence and wonder. Dio wanted nothing more than to soil it. Your whole being was that of a beautiful virgin. His hungry lips pressed to yours. He tasted the lingering blood on your lips, making his kiss all the sweeter. You could sense the desperation within him.

“You will be mind forever.” He muttered between your lips. His tongue wormed its way into your mouth. Any small movement you made caused him to hold you even tighter; it was as if you'd disappear if he didn’t.

After such a tender moment, Dio returned you to his room, although he wasn’t interested in going back to sleep. The delicious stench of blood made him want to breed your beautiful body. This time, he would fuck you and you’d enjoy it this time. Then he’ll know he can conquer you any time it seems like you’re staying away. 

To be honest, you wanted him too. His blood. It was almost like your relationship was transactional. Dio was grateful that his wife was a gorgeous gluttonous monster and you were grateful you had such a willing meal. You didn’t know why Dio’s blood seemed better than the others. It was most likely because it was Jonathan’s body you were harvesting from. Although, your hunger was different. It is clear to him that your hunger was amplified by the pregnancy symptoms.

He carried you to his nearby sitting chair. There was one in almost every room he spent time in. This one was different, though. This was for lap sitting. It was rare for you to stay with Dio in one place these days but he wanted to change that. You brought him so much relief when there was no other option to satiate his sex drive.

Dio held you between his legs, an arm underneath your thighs while his free hand covered your eyes so that you couldn't see what he was up to. But you felt it. His fingers traced your clothed cunt lightly, sending sensations to your stomach that burned with anxiety and delight.

“D-Dio…?” You felt the tips of his claws slice the fabric before he slid his fingers inside. He started with two. By instinct, you grabbed his forearm, trying to push him away. He resisted, not budging at all. “Dio!” You squirmed under his touch, attempting to remove his hand that was obscuring your vision. “Aw, don’t try to act so innocent now.” He smirked down at you and kept you close to his chest. “You’ve already opened your legs for me before.” He chuckled at the lewd memories. “You practically threw yourself at me, begging for me to fill your womb.” The rumbling of his voice in his chest gave you a sense of joy. A part of you felt safe. Although Dio was infatuated and obsessed, he was always here. For you.

“I’ve wanted nothing more than to please you, (y/n).” His digits curled inside of you, scratching your pelvic wall. You trembled and moaned at the contact. It was a mixture of pain and pleasure. You clawed at his hands, drawing blood from him but it wasn't enough to deter him from keeping at it. Nothing you did would turn him away. “My (y/n).” He sighed into you, taking in your natural scent. His primal instincts were screaming at him to ravage you.

“If fucking me is what you want then j-just get it over with!” You squeezed your eyes shut, accepting that you couldn’t break free, and tried your best to endure. “Aw~ And so soon? I’ve only just started preparing you. I can tell that I am the only man who you’ve allowed to touch you this way. Such a loyal girl you are.”

The World revealed itself, aiding Dio in holding you down once your stand came out. You never originally planned for it to show itself but it was like a reflex at this point. His stand held you by your ankles, preventing you from closing your legs over his hand. Dio made himself comfortable, resting his cheek against your temple. “Resist all you’d like. I enjoy the idea that you want to run away from me but you can’t.”

Your juices coated his fingers, overflowing and dampening the fabric of the chair beneath you. “D-Dio, please!” You cried out, your body jerking in different ways due to the sensation. “You were made just for me.” He whispered into your ear. “Leagues above the common whore.” He sped up his pace. Your clawing at his hands ceased, and you gripped his wrists, squeezing them tightly as a way to maintain your bearings in this situation. “—Dio, I’m going to…”

“Shh…” He hushed you. “You don’t want young Pucci to hear his Goddess spouting such filthy speech.” He felt your fluids slicking up his fingers. He could smell it too. It was an odd sweet smell that tempted him to give it a taste. The World let go of your ankles, turning its attention to your top that was still intact. It made no expression as it used its hands to tear the front open, exposing your chest. Now, he could see your tits bounce as he tortured your cunt below. Your whining and buckling only fueled him even more. 

Your core was getting hotter and at any moment, you felt like you could squirt all over him…but he wouldn’t let you. His pace was fast but inconsistent, now allowing you to ride your high long enough to cream your juices. Why was he putting you through this? Well, because he enjoyed the idea of being the one to soil your innocence, obsessed with the idea of being your first everything and being the only person able to make you feel good. You imprinted onto him with your kindness and gentleness while you were both human and now all he wants to do is imprint onto you. Even if it meant just being able to satisfy you sexually, he would take it. As long as you needed him.

Dio’s hand lowered from your eyes to your mouth to prevent your moans from alerting any nearby guests. It was surely an indecent sight. You saw The World in front of you. It looks you in the eyes, its face unchanging as it places its hands on your breasts, kneading them in a massage-like manner. The pleasure was overstimulating! Your eyes became glossy from the unbearable feeling. You tried to cry Dio’s name but you couldn’t.

“Should I allow you to cum now, my dear?” His hand removed itself from your mouth and his fingers grabbed the sides of your face so that you could speak. “I-I…” You were unable to form words.

Your husband smirked. “Go ahead then. Release all over me so that I can release inside of you.” The World’s fingertips proved nimble when it began playing with your nipples. All of these sensations were lick electroshocks, powering your core and making it hot. You were unable to control yourself. Your body tensed up before a warm liquid spilled onto Dio’s hand.

You sighed, your whole body was tired from trying to break out of his grasp. There was no time for you to relax before you were being flipped onto your stomach by The World. You knew fingering you wasn’t all Dio wanted but did it have to be so soon?

What was left of your clothing was torn off and your naked bottom was brought to Dio’s clothed pelvis. You felt how hard he was underneath. The precum leaked from his garments, staining your skin as he readied himself for you.

“You have no idea how much I desire you.” He said, finally unsheathing his cock from his bottoms. He pushed your head down so that your ass stayed up. His member was burning hot and the cum leaked out even more as it rested between your cheeks. The veins pulsated on your soft skin. 

You were unable to form words. He’s never handled you like this before. Despite the both of you being over 100 years old, your sexual chemistry was rather novice. In reality, this was just some guy you dated for a little while in your childhood. How could his love be of such burning passion from such little time together? Even after his century-long slumber, the first thing he did was locate you.

Dio placed a hand on your hip while the other grabbed a large chunk of your ass. He spread them apart, watching the leftover vaginal juice mix with his leaking fluid. The man seemed to have a hard figuring out which hold he wanted to ravage first.

Then he got an idea.

You felt the pad of Dio’s thumb place itself right on your asshole and without warning he pushed himself into your vagina. He found a way to stimulate both holes at the same time. 

“D-Dio!” He had only just begun but you felt like you couldn’t take it. You were still so sensitive from his previous antics. “Who do you think you are? Denying your husband your body. Careful, I’ll split you in half.” His cock slid in and out with ease because he had already fucked you open with his fingers. All you could do was hold onto the arm of the chair for dear life. Tears pricked the orders of your eyes, threatening to spill out from all of the pleasure. This time was so much more different than the other times and was much more enjoyable than your first time together.

Your walls squeezed him so much that he became intoxicated with lust. Little by little, his cum leaked out, helping his cock become more slick with both of your juices. You held onto the arm of the chair for dear life as he tore up your insides. If you weren’t mistaken, you could feel him in your stomach.

With every movement, his grip on you grew stronger. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your cunt threaded to explode with cream at any moment. Dio’s hand that lay on your ass snaked its way up to your neck. He pulled you up so your back was now up against his chest.

The man felt your walls pulsating at his thrusts. He became like a feral animal, the way he fucked into you. It became so much that you couldn’t hold your moans in anymore. Dio’s confidence had been restored when he knew he could still dominate you with little effort. It was then that you felt your insides getting extremely hot. You felt a grunt emerge from his chest. He was cumming and coating your walls. Your adorable yet sexy mannerisms were too much. You take dick way too well.

For a brief moment, his vice grip finally loosened up. Your womb was already aching as it dripped with his fluid. Despite moving the least, you were tired and out of breath. On instinct, your hand raised to your lower abdomen. You audibly sighed as you stood up straight and turned around to Dio. He didn’t seem to be trying to clean himself up at all.

You looked down at his, still throbbing, hard cock. “Oh, Dio, don’t tell me—”

“I want to do missionary too.” His eyes narrowed at you and his lips curled into a grin. You physically cringed. His sex drive was probably worse than your hunger for blood. You can’t imagine what he might’ve put those poor prostitute women through. Your legs were still trembling from the previous activities.

It didn’t seem like you had a choice once Dio carried you over to a nearby sofa. He laid you on your back, immediately slumping onto you in a tired mess. “Dio—Ah!” You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt him enter you one last time. He lazily pumped his load into your womb and you felt his heavy breath against the crook of your neck. A deep groan escaped his throat as if he exerted all of his energy so quickly.

Your eyes opened a bit, staying half-lidded. Even though it was clear that your husband was tired, he kept going. He was like a machine…or, more accurately, has become sex addicted. You caught a glimpse of Dio’s shoulder. You saw a star-shaped birthmark. It all came back to you that this was Jonathan’s body that he stole.

‘I’m sorry, Erina.’

@z3r0art

[horizon-verizon]

You’re a whole coon, of course Rhaenyra hates women, especially Black women, she tried to murder a 16 years-old Black girl, slut shamed her, called her racial slurs, and linked Nettles “ugliness/attractiveness” to her Blackness. Rhaenyra literally acted like a pathetic pick me in regard to Daemon and Nettles. If given the chance, Rhaenyra would have enslaved her. TB must truly despise Daenerys to compare her to Rhaenyra, they couldn’t be more different. (The way Rhaenyra is never mentioned in Dany’s chapters and GRRM has never discussed them in conjunction with the other, finally y’all can thanks HOTD for turning her into a progressive and flawless Mary Sue).

And really an insanely privileged white woman dying after putting a bounty on a lowborn Black’s girl head should be a good thing right ? We just gon have to celebrate Rhaenyra death with Nettles.

If you say so, anon, I guess I'm a straight up coon. 🤷🏿‍♀️

I suppose arguing how no one can be a feminist in a medieval world is coonish. I guess that pointing out how unconstructive it is to go "she wasn't a feminist so we shouldn't care about any possible effect her coming into power like the men before and after her have been able to will have an effect on other noble women's power to maybe implement some pro-women stuff in their own domains" to us analyzing why/how Rhaenyra is important to the history of Westeros and Daenerys is coonish.

I guess it's coonish of me to flout so many non-Nettles arguments of Rhaenyra's supposed bad leadership and amorality not once, but TWICE (that I remember), where it clearly just veers into straight up sexism: HERE and HERE....thus coming into why I even bother defending Rhaenyra (in some points).

It's not like I haven't already wrote several time in several posts how Rhaenyra's trying to get Nettles' head reveals much about the Targ-Andal paradigm she grows up in and tries to use to bolster herself through her going after Nettles to the end. It's not like I don't see how essentially different Daenerys and Rhaenyra are as people through the Nettles event as well as how they grow up and come into their positions of power and how/why they desire those roles:

It's not like I haven't already written about the Black Jezebel stereotype at least three times, including on Twitter and here. It's not like I have defended Nettles not just from "dettles" stans but also from people who call themselves Rhaenyra stans while bashing on Nettles and Mysaria, totally misunderstanding both characters and what even a supporting character is.

But sure, I'm a coon bc I don't want to ignore the journey of Rhaenyra's downfall and make distinct where she decided to destroy another woman vs her being the victim. Sure, I'm a whole coon.

And for the last fucking time, "compare" does not always or only mean "these two things are exactly alike and I will show you how"! "Comparison" analyses means that you will list out what traits or developments two things have, what inspirations, and see how they differ and how they don't. And through such a process, you will find out how many and how well/or not these two or more things are alike and how.

For Dany and Rhaenyra, I never said these girls/women were the same person. I said that both women, as women in male-designated positions of power, have to deal with people in world AND out of world must contend with misogynist feelings towards of their not deserving power or leadership on account of their gender, no matter what sort of characterization either had BECAUSE even with the main series not being like F&B, not being a history book, PEOPLE IN THE FANDOM STILL TEND TO MISREAD OR TWIST DANY'S ACTIONS AGAINST HER CHARACTER AND GRRM'S INTENT. Rhaenyra is meant to contextualize that very experience into a real event of catastrophe, she was set against ever since she was 10 bc she was female and another, older woman wanted power denied to her directly bc she was a woman. This is a fact, you nor I can change that. There is a difference between what we learn from the events to make the conclusions of who should rule ideally and what we should shoot for VERSUS thinking of the situation at hand for what it would have been like for the character.

F&B (having been written after the main series) continues even this "analysis" phenomenon; what do people choose to believe when it's a woman at the center of their stories?! No matter her real circumstances or their knowledge of things not present in their understanding of the world and of history?

I also mention, several times, how it is here, Rhaenyra's end, where the Targs lose their dragons because they have assimilated into the intenser patriarchal paradigm already mentioned to the point where they weakened their women's positions by denying them their autonomy and political powers...which plot sequence wise leads to the end of the dynasty as whole and Dany's exile. I'm must be a coon to not want Nettles, a 17 year old, to fuck a 50 year old, esp with her being his bio daughter. No, anon, I am too repulsed with direct vertical incest (parent-child, grandparent-grandchild, etc.).

Then there is how the Bloodstone Emperor and the Amethyst Empress and how the former usurped tha latter and plunged the entire world into mythological "darkness"--thus leading up to the importance of the Azor Ahai, aka Dany, directly seems to reflect how another brother--Aegon II--usurped his older sister--Rhaenrya--and thus the world loses a strong magical tool against darkness "dragons". An obvious link....

In fact, I tend to repeat how different they are as people! There's this whole thread talking abt the very thing I despise abt some critiques of Rhaenyra. I even say many times that Rhaenyra couldn't have the throne after the Nettles letter, that at that point, there needed a "refresh". Up until then, there was simply more reason for us to not think her a real terror except for maybe Addam and Alyn. But I have my misgivings there and it comes down to timing and grief.

No, Rosby and Stokeworth do not count and why? I already wrote why, but for someone who doesn't stan Rhaenyra or is not a fan of hers but actually stans just Daenerys--the previous ozymalek says:

I have myself said several times how I disliked how they rewrote show1Rhaenyra to make her a much less assertive version of herself, and I agree with others how they made her female-friendless. No matter how amoral or moral she was, similarly to Dany, people have written her sexistly in the show. I believe that this is CENTRAL to the point of F&B, how people refuse to see the point of it.

Finally, I really don't see how the hell show!Rhaenyra even is a Mary Sue or a NLOG, bc for the first, she displays no skill she excels over others at. A Mary Sue is:

Show!Rhaenyra, for some reason, seems "perfect" to some people. Esp with Luke saying so in epi 8. I never felt that way, I always thought she (older, not younger) was too meek and that is her great flaw---due to the sexist writing, but if kept at face value, that's the great flaw. Other definition: Who is inserting themselves into her character on the show? you got proof?

A NLOG (not like the other girls) is a Cersei like character who goes out of their way to destroy/diminish most women who are competitors for their power or destroy any semblance of socially-defined femininity and socially-coded feminine "weakness" so as to appeal to the male authority and get privileges. Problem is that EVERY SINGLE FEMALE MONARCH AND WOMAN IN SOME SORT OF AUTHORITY OVER MEN IN EVERY SINGLE PATRIARCHAL SOCIETY had to convince their male supporters that they were the one they should follow to some degree more than any male heir or candidate--during a time where they had to either fight for their "birthright" or they were planning coups (Catherine the Great), came into power through some accident, or whatnot--that their rule was in it for them. There is no pattern of woman-hating or self-hating to define Rhaenyra as a NLOG, where she consistently tries. NLOGs tend to hate women even in their own "race" or group for perceived acts of upheaval and destabilizing their positions of power. Alicent was and she uses misogyny to do so, so Alicent is not Rhaenyra's victim; other way around. Rhaenyra has all reason to despise Alicent, justified even. It's more than the positions, it's the whole targeting since 10 deal and trying to espouse Rhaenyra's inherent unworthiness for power.

So Rhaenyra deciding to do the Rosby/Stokeworth bit is her seeing how her greatest ally, a sexist man, has basically all her ships during wartime and insisting she does not give those girls their father's seats is Rhaenyra choosing wrongly, yes, but something I don't think that you or a small number of women would bow under considering the other shit she was going through. Yes, even black/PoC women. Again, this is not about Nettles but about women vs women (yes with them all being white or white-adjacent) bc I know that this will be the next thing some will say as a counterargument to what I'm saying here.

You are correct, however, in how similar Rhaenyra's behavior abt Nettles is pick-me-ish and NLOG concerning her intent to turn Daemon back to her and how this was her seeing Nettles as competition for "control" over Daemon, who was one of her principal military commands as well as her romantic partner...and like i said once before, this is a reflection on how this Andal-Targ patriarchal paradigm makes its own female "terrors" through misogyny. To ignore the process is to endanger its justified repetition. Yeah, Rhaenyra ends up becoming like Alicent in that way after the consistent losses, and I mean defaulting back to destroying another woman for a simulation of power. This doesn't mean that she was a feminist or that she didn't intend on using the Black Jezebel reasoning to get rid of "competition" to feel more in control. It does mean that her behavior reveals her enmeshment in the xenophobic, aristocratic, patriarchal Targ-Andal feudalist paradigm that she chooses to use to, again, construct more feelings of power at a time where she seemed to feel she was losing more and more--after the betrayals and the deaths of her sons in that moment. And yet if there is anything to be extracted from her narrative it is how that built-in classism (the companion and parent of racism) can become the thing these women default onto to retrieve/gain the agency & power denied to them. I believe this is also where you can draw a core similarity to Cersei, who is rather the starkest extreme example of that classism making up for her internalized misogyny through her Lannister Exceptionalism.

The discourse has to include how we, the readers, over-blame Rhaenyra for things she has either very little control over or what she had no control over and for trying to, again, assert herself (before Nettles). She's a reflection of her times and situation; doesn't mean she isn't still a victim. You don't need to like her. I never asked for people to do so. I don't care if you do or not, I've never needed that. Just don't lie or twist information or ignore clear patterns GRRM establishes that are also important, or try to erase the lines of harm done to her and undo the work GRRM is doing to point out this pattern of misogyny that contextualizes one very key aspect of Dany's journey: sexism doesn't care how goo or classist you are, you are a woman so you will be subject to disenfranchsement, distorotion of facts, and destruction...if you are not like Dany, who intuitively and "rationally" discovers lanes of power while reintegrating her beign to the natural process and relationships between herself and her dragons for the ecological benefit of the entire world (the Others, again). Unlike Rhaenyra, Dany doesn't fall into the ideological "trap" or the noblewoman's save-grace of exploiting of lowborn people AND dragons but intelligently seeks other non-exploitative ways to use her dragons and those inspired by he bravery. This again, does not erase or override the sexism that ties these two together.

It's a paradox, not a contradiction.

[dasha-aibo]

Same Chris chan anon, I’m back. I saw your reply, and yeah, I agree on some parts. Good people can turn bad.

What I meant was that if you’re a person with strong values, you would’ve never done that stuff. It was plain sexism. A person with strong values wouldn’t do that because their actions dictate what kind of person they are.

And while I understand that you don’t SUPPORT chris chan, you can’t be like “well! Actually, women, stfu about his sexism!!! He did it because he was bullied online!!! And shut up about how he sexually harassed his female friends beforehand!!!”

Like. Think critically. This was an actual crime. With actual victims. And now he’s out of jail??? Male privilege at its finest. He should’ve NEVER gotten out of jail.

Also, rape is like, in my opinion, the only crime that can NEVER be excused. Because nobody forced you to do it??? Nobody can use it as self defense. Nobody recovers from it like a wound. It’s not simple. It’s a complex hate crime against women.

On another note, I don’t like bullying. I’ve been a bullying victim for many years. And even worse, IN REAL LIFE. But I never would’ve done that. Because plainly, I’m not sexist.

Chris Chan was porn sick. That’s it. He harassed women, did something unforgivable to his mother, and became “trans” to intimidate lesbians into dating him. That’s a straight white man if I’ve ever seen it. The internet is cruel, but it doesn’t turn men into rapists. That’s their own doing. We need to hold men accountable for what they do. We can’t coddle them or they’ll just keep doing shit. It’s never justified!!! Never!! Even the nastiest woman doesn’t deserve it because it’s a hate crime against women as a whole!

Have empathy towards the victims. We never know what they went through, and their suffering was much worse than what a brain rotted straight white man went through. Because let’s bffr, if a man I knew told me he’s a woman because he wants to bang a lesbian, draws porn of me, and then rapes his mom AND PEOPLE ONLINE DEMAND HES CALLED A WOMAN AND THAT HE DESERVES PITY??? That would be my breaking point.

He’s a whole ass villain 😭😭 why can’t y’all see that

I don't believe in perfect villains or perfect victims.

We don't need to villianize Chris to have empathy for Barbara. We don't need to gloss over Barbara being a horrible person to feel horrible for what happened to her.

It's not a black-and-white world, no matter how much Ayn Rand wanted it to be.

Chris was severely abused and neglected by his parents. Barbara specifically fostered unhealthy attachment, which absolutely did not help in this situation.

I don't think we need to state over and over again that FUCKING YOUR DEMENTIA-RIDDEN MOTHER IS WRONG. I think that's pretty obvious by itself.

But just taking a step back and looking at the whole situation in context is important.

And it's important to realize that the collective internet didn't just "bully" Chris. They manipulated and gaslighted this person for over a decade. They derailed Chris's life and any middling chance they had at becoming a normal person. They egged on their every worst instinct and broke this person's brain and will. That goes beyond regular bullying.

I think, overall, it's the internet looking at a monster we created and then refusing to accept that harassing, bullying, gaslighting and obsessively documenting a living, breathing human being for over a decade because they're "cringe" is a bad thing. So Chris has to have been a monster from the start.

Chris is out of jail, because the judges don't know WTF to do with them. You can't hold a person in jail with no trial for more than a year, rape is really hard to prove with dementia patients, who might not even remember it, incest penalties are their own can of legal worms and trying a person as severely autistic as Chris is borderline-impossible.

The best outcome for everyone would be to put Chris in an assisted living facility. But I doubt that's gonna happen.

Also, I refuse to comment on Chris's trans status. It's between them and their psychologist. I simply don't care, because it changes very little.

Yeah, I do think Chris deserves pity. Condemnation AND pity. We shouldn't just forgive their horrible actions. But we should at least have the humility to realize that we would be capable of some monstrous shit if we were ever treated like that.

YOU don't think you would've done something horrible in that situation, but you HAVE NOT been in the same situation. And thank your lucky stars for that.

[definitely-not-captain-america]

Spoilers for the first episode "Aang" of the live action ATLA under the cut. I'll always put spoilers under the cut so as to not ruin it for anyone who has a life and hasn't seen it yet

Content warning for depictions of fantasy violence and death.

I think the animated series starting with Katara and Sokka was a good choice, but I like this one starting with Aang in his original time. It's cool to see the air temples full of people, and Aang is better humanized beyond the "goofy 12 year old who never takes anything seriously," which is partly true but not fully accurate to his character.

The genocide happens so early on so it's impossible to not talk about that right away too. We literally watch firebenders burn airbenders alive, so there's that. I do have mixed feelings about the genocide. On the one hand, I think it's a little tasteless showing it, especially the amount of people who will watch it, sympathize with it, but then not do a thing to support the genocide in Palestine right now. At the same time, I think it's important to show it. It shouldn't be an easy topic, it's supposed to be devastating and horrifying and I think the scene was the right amount of graphic for that. Not to mention the allusion of Sozin killing those kids after he killed Gyatso.

Like others have said, I don't really agree with them cutting out Sokka's sexism. It was a major growth in character for him, and it's important to show young men growing up from things like sexism and maturing and apologizing after you're proven wrong. Still, the casting is incredible so far and all the actors definitely feel like their characters, so that's good too.

Onto Zuko and Iroh (I'm literally writing all this as I watch the episode). I see people say Zuko's scar should've been a lot uglier, for lack of a better word, and I agree. It's small, it doesn't look like it has much texture, and his eyebrow is still there. It's a burn scar, and burn scars never really look pretty in the nice, aesthetic way they made it in the live action. Of course, animated Zuko was always hot, but for the scar to be a point of shame that the audience can really understand, I think it should've looked worse. (Sorry for my brusque language. I don't mean to say that burn victims are ugly and horribly disfigured. Zuko's scar is just so far from a burn scar that it's mostly just aesthetic in the live action.)

Also, and it's so early in the show, but so far Iroh has a bit of a tough love thing going on and I kind of like it. We all love the gentle, tea-loving, proverb-using old man who probably-definitely committed war crimes but is now a big softie who regrets his actions, but I kinda like what may be happening here.

Their village in the South Pole is beautiful, and I'm glad they have more than just like 12 people living there. It's still obvious that all the men went off to war, and I always kinda hated how empty the village was. Plus, like I said, it's still really pretty, so we get to see how there was a culture there that's been somewhat lost.

I love Aang and Katara's conversation about them growing up fast. I think it's a little easy to forget how young everyone is in the animated series — everyone who's not Aang anyway, because even sixteen/seventeen is very young and we can forget that when everyone is drawn to be muscled and attractive and without any real baby fat.

I don't really like how Appa looks, but I typically hate all CGI animals because their fur always looks weird. He isn't terrible, it's just a serious case of uncanny valley for me so it's just not my thing.

I kinda like that Katara goes off to the ship on her own before Aang. We get her gentleness and a lot of her uncertainty, but we also see her conviction and the fact that she'll do whatever she wants if she believes it's for the right reason.

Right along those lines, I really love how evident Sokka's role as the child soldier/child leader is. Katara mentioned that he was told to watch the village since he was 13, and he's doing what he can. He has no idea what's right, he's just doing everything he can to hold things together and keep people safe. Aang calling him the bravest person he's ever met was so wonderful and exactly the validation Sokka needed to hear but probably never did. It also helped him come to his decision to help Aang, which was awesome.

I also love the reckless abandon we see with Zuko and the other firebenders. Sozin entered the Fire Nation into a world of divine right and basically the American Dream of conquering and doing whatever you want because they're in charge, they have the right, so they can. I also love the slight juxtaposition of Aang and Iroh's short encounter where Aang asks why the war was started. I just really like all the character interactions so far.

We also really get to see Zuko being young. His desperation when Aang escapes, the anger and fear he experiences. It's all very realistic and I'm glad we get more of that in this one.

I can't quite figure out if I like the costumes and the setting a lot. I don't like CGI heavy movies because they never look real or good to me, which is something I care about. I'm also not a good judge of whether CGI is good or not. I end up comparing everything to Narnia or Babe the Pig, both of which were pretty incredible, and nothing has been to those standards since.

In that same vein, I can't tell if I like the bending or not. It's not terrible, but the hand movements always look a little off to what ends up happening (which, I understand why, I just think it could been a little cleaner). Though that's probably just a byproduct of this being a live action, and the animated will always be better for bending. That earthbender in the beginning just took so long to earthbend, and I've always appreciated that earthbending is like, the heaviest and there's a lot more force that goes into it, but he was taking too long for me.

I 100% love this cast. So far they've all been very true to their characters while also being slightly new interpretations, which I like. I can't wait to see how they develop throughout the show, especially Katara, who I think goes through the most amount of growth in the show in a fairly short amount of time. Aang is still playful but also a bit more grown up, Sokka is still sarcastic but also focused on being a leader, Zuko is young and scared and angry and desperate to prove himself. I'm really happy with this actually, because it'll be easier for me to forgive the parts I don't like because these actors are so good.

That was very ramshackle and haphazardly thrown together. Oh well. This is starting out better than I expected and I'm excited for that.

[purgemarchlockdown]

Milgram and The Prince

(A Companion to my Rose Bride post you can read here, not necessary to read as I reestablish all the necessary points I made there here but it be nice to see another person read it) (CWs: Unhealthy Power Dynamics, Sexism, Discussions of Ownership in the context of Marriage, allusions to sexual abuse)

(Spoilers for Utena!)

So, as I discussed in the post linked above. In Revolutionary Girl Utena, There is a dichotemy between a Prince and Princess, with Princesses being (in the shortest way I can explain it) an unrealistic and unhealthy expectation for women to fit into a role that Lacks Autonomy and Power, and if they don't they get demonized and branded as a Witch, and Princes is an unrealistic and unhealthy expectation for men to have Complete Power, Autonomy and Control over Princess.

When we get into the Rose Bride we delve into the ideas of ownership, abuse and demonization, as the Rose Bride should Obey Whatever Their Betrothed Tells Them To Do. This Prince is who we are focusing on for this post.

"She looks gallant in a guy's uniform, but she looks perfect in a dress, too!"

Let's start off with Mikoto and John, as they're the best jumping off point when talking about the dynamic of the Prince and the Rose Bride.

Now, while the Rose Bride (and princesses) as a Role is very traditionally feminine and rooted in gender and well, misogyny. Mikoto actually has been heavily Associated with traditionally feminine characteristics and stereotypes. (Mikoto Interrogations)

T1Q4: Do you pay attention to fashion? A: Of course. No one would want to request something from a designer with no fashion sense, right?

T1Q10: Have you ever gotten angry at other people? A: I don't think I've gotten angry before. Isn't it kind of disgraceful to get angry?

Me, the newborn other you

In Isolation, these characteristics don't hint at anything, however when them put together, plus idea that John was "born" from Mikoto and how he even gets tied into with the rest of the girls by how he repeats his T1 Title and is the Only Guy that does so creates a interesting association with Mikoto and Femininity.

Not only that but Mikoto is Heavily Sexualized In MeMe.

A detail that's strange when even Yuno, who Wears Lingerie in Teardrop. Doesn't get sexualized in the same way Mikoto does. When Mikoto is on screen in MeMe the camera is Gazing at him. Watching him take off his shirt and bathe.

(Utena Scripts)

Anthy:  The one I'm engaged to can do as he pleases with me.

People haven noted that MeMe and Mikoto references a lot of classic horror and I'd like to mention that, not only is dying in a shower a common trope, especially in horror. It's a death that commonly happens to Women. To the point where, the TVTropes Page for Deadly Bath comments on it.

Whenever it's a killer or monster that's the cause of death, the victim is always a woman for some reason.

MeMe seems to be mainly referencing the 1960s Alfred Hitchcock film Psycho, and the most well known scene from the film is the murder of a woman in the shower.

Plus, said murderer, a character with a Very Demonized and Inaccurate Portrayal of DID, is also a transphobic stereotype who kills his mom and then dresses up as her to pretend that she's Still There.

Stepping aside the Many Issues with Psycho's Portrayal of DID and transphobia for a bit, these are More Examples of Mikoto being associated with Femininity.

But it doesn't even end there! Mikoto feels like a bystander in his own life, he's on a train going nowhere in Double. He's predicting his own fate in MeMe. He has no clue where his life is going and part of it is in the hand of someone he knows Nothing About. It's scary and terrifying and his agency is minimal and he doesn't even know who he really is at this point.

Why am I here? It must be a mistake? Take a good look at me Until you find me Why, hey why, I’m nowhere to be found So I will NEVER forgive you if this is happening to me even though I’m right Why, hey why, please let me out of here Please tell me it’s a mistake, that’s it’s a lie

I'd like to mention before I continue that Rypirotes actually pointed out this Exact Thing before! That Mikoto is the Damsel in Distress and John is his Heroic Knight. Or in my case, Mikoto is the Rose Bride, and John is the Prince.

Miki:  Her eyes are telling me... Miki:  that she wants to be set free. Miki:  I will protect you... Miki:  I will protect your beautiful sound, Himemiya-san!

Now the thing about the Princess/Prince dynamic in Utena is that it actually mirrors a dynamic present in Milgram, the Victim/Savior one. I mention this a bit in my Rose Bride post but I'm going to expand on it a bit more here.

We, the audience are very familiar with John positioning himself as Mikoto's savior, it's one of the first lines of Double we ever Heard.

Cling to me, hoist me up as your “savior”

Of course as we know Mikoto has been very Distressed about John and his presence. The loss of time and memory and control and the fear of not being the real "him" haunting him. Making him portray John in a more villainous and evil light.

John is pretty upset about this, but less because he's being portrayed as a villain (though that frustration of trying so hard and yet being feared is a part of it) and more because he feels like he Ruined Mikoto's Life in his attempts to save him.

If only I were never born, if only Why, why I’m so sorry.

Utena:  Instead, I just kept on pretending to be the Prince who could save you. Utena:  I was just being conceited about protecting you.

As we know, John's statements in Neoplasma are Unreliable, as he seemingly tries to shift all the blame of the murders to him in an effort to protect Mikoto since he was Born to Do That.

(Neoplasma)

John: That’s right. I’ll have to disappear eventually, anyway… Disappear, and take all of it with me. I… was born to protect Boku, after all.

The problem is not John wanting to protect Mikoto. It's that John in the attempt to protect Mikoto, harms him. It's not out of malice or some inherent flaw in his birth or anything like that. It's because John treats Mikoto as powerless.

John: It’s true that I was the one who wanted to destroy everything… and the weakness of Boku, who couldn’t stand up for himself all alone, might have been the origin of that. But… that’s all there is to it. Is that a sin?

While John puts Mikoto on a pedestal he also believes Mikoto to be weaker and needing protection, and no matter how True that statement may be, the way he helps Mikoto makes him feel powerless, confused and like a bystander in his own life.

Anthy:  Because I'm the Rose Bride...because I'm a doll with no heart... Anthy:  I thought that no matter what befell my body, my heart wouldn't feel the pain.

Welcome home, another day, another day with that hardly barely there of a smile You’re overdoing it, you’re already broken

John doesn't want to hurt Mikoto, he really doesn't. He just doesn't know what else he could Possibly do, he was made to take all of this on. That's what a Prince does.

Saionji:  So you want to be the prince who saves the helpless princess?

So he pushes people away, hides things from Mikoto, and so on. Because even though he doesn't really know what Mikoto wants from him, he believes this is the only way to help him. (Thank you Laniemae for drawing his paranoia in particular to my attention!)

Utena:  When you were suffering so much...when I had said we should save each other... Utena:  I'M the one who's unfair. I'm the one who's dirty. Utena:  I'm the one who betrayed you.

Hey, I just wanted to save you So why did it come to this?

Which just makes Mikoto's feelings of powerless worse and causes him confusion, worry and stress. And when that reaches a breaking point, John will need to clean up whatever mess gets left behind and the cycle starts again.

The dynamic of the Rose Bride and the Prince is one built on a Horrific Power Imbalance. You don't want to be The Rose Bride, and you don't want to be The Prince either.

"Instead of a princess to be protected, I want to become a dashing prince."

It might be strange to have Kotoko here when the Prince as an archetype both in and out of Utena is associated with men, however the thing about Kotoko is that she idealizes The Prince.

Voice:  but because of the strength of her admiration for the prince, Voice:  the princess made up her mind to become a prince herself! Voice:  But is that really good for her?

Now let's get something out of the way before I start this section, Kotoko has gone On Record saying she isn't exactly attached to the concept of femininity. (Kotoko Interrogations)

T1Q10: What do you think about the word 'feminimity'? A: It's one of the means you can take. It's something you can freely choose depending on the scene, so it's not something to cling onto.

This is Perfectly Fine Actually, as is Utena wearing the boys uniform and having "masculine" interests. Every time we see Utena in girl's clothes in RGU it is when she's at her lowest point and being denied who she is.

The problem is not that they present outside of the gender binary/aren't attached to it, but that they idolize Unhealthy Ideals that Reinforce a hierarchy of power.

Anyways, as established with John, The Prince as a role is one built on having power over someone. By positioning yourself as someone's "savior" you hold power over them and, even if you don't want to, harm them as a result.

Kotoko has seen the world to be cruel and unfair and the systems in place to not be enough to keep law in order. She's frustrated by how powerless she is and acts to make the world "better."

Utena:  You don't see Himemiya as anything but the Rose Bride either, do you? Touga:  Is that wrong? Utena:  It is wrong! Utena:  Cut it out with that "Rose Bride" or "possession" nonsense.

(Task)

Kotoko: Yes. I hate evil. Hurting innocent people with violence, taking away from others, killing people… I hate all this evil behaviour! The law being unable to judge some sins, there's too many of these cases in this world. Having clearly bullied and torturing the weak, but exploiting loopholes in laws, there's so many sinners who still live in such a carefree manner!

It seems like Kotoko might have some unresolved and buried trauma here, as while Kotoko herself says she wasn't bullied. She also stated that when she was already the person she was now back when she was around Amane's age.

T1Q18: Have you ever been bullied in the past? A: No. Are people who've had such pasts the only ones who're allowed to hate evil?

20/6/18

Amane: I see…… You look scary at first impression, but I quite like the way you treat everyone equally regardless of whether they’re older or younger than you. You don’t just treat me like a child or anything like that. Kotoko: Treat you like a child? Hah, you’ve got to be kidding. Back when I was your age, I was already the person I am today.

1moremilgramfan's analysis on Kotoko's clothing in Harrow over here is a fantastic dissection of Kotoko's character design and this aspect of it in particular but my point is that Kotoko tries her best to look strong and powerful, even when she's in emotional distress. She must look strong and powerful and not Weak.

I wonder what that reminds me of.

Kotoko idealizes the idea of there being some quick and easy way to save the whole world. Even if it isn't her that does it in the end.

I've chosen the awaited hero

But for now, if the system in place can't do it then She Will. She will the dashing prince that saves the helpless princess. She'll be the savior of the weak.

Let’s end this! “HARROW” “HARROW” I can’t forgive the evil hurting the weak It’s unforgivable, I won’t allow it, I sweared

But as I said, by positioning yourself as someone's Prince you begin to hold power over them and it's easy to start dehumanizing them and putting your wants and ideals above what they want. Their safety is reliant on yours after all. They can't fight back if you do something that harms them.

Utena:  That's right, I've got to protect Himemiya. Utena:  If anyone can return her to being a normal girl, it's me. Utena:  I can't let anyone else have her. Utena:  Not even my own prince.

Kotoko: From the begin I've never asked for your understanding! My actions, one by one, are bringing earth closer to peace. Useless Weaklings should just shut up and let me protect them!

And Kotoko seems to take a lot of joy and gratification in protecting people. She doesn't care as much about the victims as much as what she Gets Out of Saving them. Their wants are not as important as hers.

...Fufu... This feels so good.

Touga:  While she was engaged to you, the Code required her to obey you. Utena:  You're lying... Touga:  The Rose Bride answered the wishes of her master. Touga:  To make her an ordinary girl was merely what you wished.

By doing so, she perpetuates the cycle of violence she hated so much in the first place. You can see this in T2, by persecuting the guilty voters and physically harming them because she believes she's justified. Exerting power from them in a physical way and wanting to vote more people not forgiven so she can continue handing out righteous judgement.

Kotoko: I handed out retribution to the prisoners you chose to not forgive. Following MILGRAM’s system, I didn’t finish them off right away. You still need time to think, after all. …What’s with that face…? Aside from following your will, I’m deciding to leave the rest up to you. But… You’re too soft-hearted. I would have chosen to not forgive more prisoners. It’d be better if I were the prison guard… Well, just one thing is missing, I guess… I’ll stay put for now. I’ll wait until your next judgement is over, and then I’ll take action. Don’t worry, I’m on your side. Let’s bring judgement to the unforgivable evildoers.

These actions are harmful and dehumanizing, the victims are not people but a means to an end. It doesn't matter what Happens to them or even to Herself, as long as righteous judgement is brought upon those who "deserve it" for whatever reason she can come up with.

Kotoko idealized the idea of being a savior, and in the process, turned herself into a tool to harm.

Akio:  I've taken enough risks to buy the power to change the world. Akio:  That's how the world works-

"It's alright now. Please go on playing make-believe "Prince" in this comfortable little coffin forever."

Now, again you don't want to be the prince. as The Prince is an unachievable ideal that harms everyone and perpetuates cycles of violence.

However unlike the Rose Bride, the Prince Has More Power and Agency. Whoever is engaged to the Rose Bride has power over her. So, if your worldview can only perceive the roles of Prince and Princess, Savior and Victim, then of course you would want to be The Prince.

Let's talk Shidou Kirasaki.

Now, similar disclaimer to Amane's in the previous analysis. Since I've delving into the abuse the Prince perpetuates in a bit more detail. I am once again stating that while I Will Not discuss csa and sa in general here since we have no proof of Shidou doing that and for the sake of tact. However it will be Alluded to vaguely in the dialogue, especially since I'm focusing on the perpetrators of that abuse.

Once again, do what is good for your health and stay safe.

Now, unlike most of the princes in Utena, Shidou isn't doing this necessarily out of malice, he is not as bad as Akio Othori and I'm not going to pretend he is.

However even if his actions aren't necessarily done out of Malice it doesn't mean he doesn't benefit from it nor does it mean he doesn't harm anyone.

Now I talked a lot about Amane in my Rose Bride analysis but as I mentioned their, people are always constantly presenting themselves to Amane as "her prince," and are frustrated and upset when Amane shows that she can't be the victim they want her to be and Shidou is no exception to this.

22/10/24 (Shidou’s Birthday)

Amane: I warned you. I can no longer turn a blind eye to this wickedness taking place right in front of us. You’re bringing ruin unto yourself. Do you understand? Shidou: No, I don’t understand. It’s my job as an adult to teach you that throwing a temper tantrum isn’t going to make everything go your way.

In fact Shidou parallels her abusive parents a lot in his behavior by constantly ignoring and outright dismissing Amane's feelings and thoughts because he believes that Amane is "just a child."

20/06/13

Amane: ……*sigh*. Is that right. I don’t think I’m going to get along with you, Shidou-san. I don’t agree with the fact you refuse to acknowledge that I have my own free will, and that I should be held accountable for my actions, just because I’m a child. I may have only been alive for 12 years, but all the choices I’ve made, even if they weren’t the best ones, were entirely my own. What point is there in you getting sad when I have no regrets myself? ……please give me back my test. It seems you don’t have the concentration levels required to be my teacher. I’m going to get Kotoko-san to teach me instead. Shidou: Amane…… I don’t think that’s true. However smart you may be…… you’re still just a child.

Shidou doesn't see Amane as a person, he sees her as "child" and thus has less agency than Him. He's the one who should be making decisions for her because he's an adult. Whenever she reacts in a way he doesn't like he dismisses it, she's having one of the Worst Periods of Her Life right in front of him and he's dismissing it as just throwing a tantrum, something silly and childish.

Akio:  A child like you can't appreciate my ideals.

This isn't the only person he does this to, as Es also experiences his belittling and patronizing way of treating children. (Molech)

Shidou: Ah, well… I was just thinking about how despite being a child, you’ve really done your research on this. Es: Hey. [footsteps] You trying to make fun of me, is that it?  Shidou: What? Oh, no. I wasn’t trying to do anything like that. Es: You were. Something’s been on my mind ever since the very beginning… “Es, this. Es, that.” It’s the belittling way you refer to me…  I’m the prison guard, you know that? Shidou: Oh, I’m completely aware of that. But, you’re still a child in actuality. Coming from me, who’s almost twice the age as you are, I just…  Es: What is it? Shidou: For a child like you to be entrusted with this sort of role… My heart goes out to you. 

In a way he's exerting power over the both of them through this, he's an adult, more responsible and powerful than the both of them. It's, frankly, dehumanizing.

If the Rose Bride is an object to be projected on, the Prince is the one doing the projecting.

And as explained in the Rose Bride post, coffins in Utena represent cycles and eternity and to grow you need to break out of it. Shidou is stuck in his own coffin, keeps on trying to return to a life that Doesn't Exist Anymore and when he's faced with that knowledge and the way he's harmed the people around him because of that he continues to spiral.

He wants to die but he can't do it himself so he pushes the responsibility onto someone he doesn't consider as a person.

Shidou: I feel sorry that you had to be given this role. And, I truly apologise for being so insistent about sentencing me to death as well…  But, you’re perfect. You’ll give me the ending I’m most suited for. 

He wants to make up for his mistakes as a parent and pushes that onto someone he can project onto, even though that person has made it very clear how unwelcome and even painful it is for him to do that.

Shidou: Yeah. I’ll do what I can. I can’t have a child making a face like that.

He wants to live but he can only live if someone else is in pain because that means he has a reason to continue existing.

But there are lives that need safeguarding So hey, prolong my life, I’m indispensable

Shidou has fully admitted that he thinks his crime is a selfish one, he did it for himself. No matter How or Why he killed, we know he didn't value the people he killed that much.

“Throw down”, someone’s value Cannot be the same as another

You're in my way, hurry up and die.

The value comes from what they give to him, and in the end, their death was much more valuable to him than their life.

"The One Who Will Revolutionize the World"

Frankly, it's kinda pathetic to be a Prince.

It's is a coffin that one can stay in forever if they don't do anything. Something that harms you and everyone else...mostly everyone else. It's a role that brings about stagnation and immaturity. You can never revolutionize the world by being a Prince, all your doing is just perpetuating a cycle of harm.

Maybe Kotoko and Shidou will stay in their coffins, who knows really with them. They don't seem particularly in a hurry to get out, they don't even seem to notice their trapped in the first place.

Mikoto though...well...John really does want to understand, and Mikoto really does want to know what's happening.

And maybe that's enough.

Anthy:  But, you're a... Utena:  I came here to meet you. Utena:  So don't be afraid of this world where we'll meet. Utena:  ...Himemiya...Himemiya...Himemiya! Utena:  Himemiya! Anthy:  Utena...sama...? Utena:  Himemiya...we finally...meet.

END NOTES: I don't usually put these but since I plan to make this two part series one post minus the utena I might as well talk a bit.

I end this and the Rose Bride one so sappily but that's mostly cause I always need to remind myself after writing these that it's a Breakable Cycle. You write 2k+ words about characters being trapped in coffins and it Gets To You.

I'm so sorry to Fuuta for leaving him out of this...Mikoto and Kotoko kinda took your place...I know your literally a hero in your MV but I could not find a way to put you here without bloating it too much.

Funnily enough while the Rose Bride post had a lot to talk about The Prince is weirdly easy to summarize, the longest part here is when I talk about the themes of the Rose Bride and how that intersects with Mikoto. Though maybe that's just me. Another reason to write the compilation I guess.

I Swear there was more quotes about children and adults in Utena- I suppose it's a lot of its themes on adulthood are communicated visually and/or involve sex so like...yknow. Plus I'd have to explain the cars and it would take me all my effort to not put the Shiori car quote.