#me desperately trying to draw akechis face in a way that makes him look like himself

[ianashas-palace]

A lil' akechi

#me desperately trying to draw akechis face in a way that makes him look like himself #persona 5 #p5 #akechi #akechi goro #goro akechi #sketch #ianasha art

[innenofutari]

On Goro Akechi’s morals and forgiveness (character analysis, but also just a very rambly post)

Akechi is… a very interesting character, I have no doubt about this. Also my favorite of course, if you hadn’t figured that out yet by this giant text you’re about to read (sorry). I have a lot I want to talk about in regards to him since he is so intriguing and we actually don’t have that much info about how his thought process works so it leaves a lot of room for speculation.

In any case, in this meta in specific I’m going to be talking about Akechi’s...morality(?), forgiveness and his relationship with regret. I’m not sure if that’s the best word to define this but I’ll roll with it for now. I’ll try to be fair and talk about things as I personally see them, it’s totally fine if you don’t share my views! Now, onto the actual meta.

Starting off, as people are obviously aware, Akechi is a morally gray character, a darker shade of, but he’s a sympathetic and tragic character nonetheless. That much is undeniable, he was written to be sympathetic, even if I’d argue Atlus did a pretty poor job of it in Vanilla (he was still my favorite ever since then though lol) but he’s reached his true potential in Royal, which makes me immensely happy to see. I get so unbelievably happy whenever I see people saying Royal changed their perception of him and started to like him more! But even then, there are a lot of people who just can’t forgive him for what he did, and that’s only natural. I personally think that, if you don’t try to sympathize with Akechi and truly, truly try to understand his mind and history, you’re doing him a huge disservice. But, forgiveness is something that everyone is free to think and decide if he deserves it or not. In Akechi’s case, I feel like forgiveness is something much more personal to the player, and this shows between the Phantom Thieves too.

There is a visual novel I hold very close to my heart called Umineko no Naku Koro Ni (which I’ll be quoting relentlessly throughout this entire post) that illustrates what I think better than I could put into words, so I’ll be quoting that scene with a few tweaks for better context:

“You said you understood the culprit’s motive.”

“...Yes.”

“Is that motive… a satisfying explanation for why they’d [commit murder]?!”

“Who knows. That’s for you to decide. Even if I say it’s satisfying, that doesn’t mean it will satisfy you. …You have to decide that for yourself.”

I really like this. It reminds me a lot of Akechi’s situation. I firmly believe that this has no “objective”, “most correct” answer to, just your personal feelings, which are the most important. I, as a player, do forgive Akechi, I want him to have a happy ending, another chance at life, manage to live happily with Akira and have some fun for once. That’s what “forgiveness” means to me in this situation, but while some people may empathize with Akechi, they still can’t forgive him. They think he should stay forever in jail or die since he cannot be redeemed in any way in their eyes. Where do I wanna go with this endless blabbering you ask, and I respond, I just want to try and see Akechi’s actions through two different lenses.

Well, I personally don’t like downplaying the crimes he committed and dumbing it down to “he was being manipulated” because, even if this is not false, it is not entirely correct either. Akechi is so fun to speculate about because he’s a character who is always clashing against himself in various ways as if he was in a constant state of internal turmoil, and this is not very different.

Akechi himself made the choice to go to Shido. It is extremely unlikely that he didn’t know he was going to be using his new powers for murder. He may have been very young, but despite the fact that he was a child forced to mature prematurely, he knew exactly which type of person Shido was. When he walked into that deal he was aware of the consequences and had fully made peace with the fact that he’d be taking another person’s life. Now, I’m not saying that Shido never manipulated him because he did, but not with that particular choice. 

This alone tells plenty about Akechi’s morals. I believe that Akechi indeed has some level of empathy for other people, but I sincerely doubt he feels especially bad about the Okumura-like people he had to kill. He might feel bad for the family of the victims or just feel nauseated with himself, however, he doesn’t regret a thing. As if he had grown numb to it. ...Until a certain point, that is, but I’ll talk about that later.

I would also like to elaborate further on Akechi’s continuous conflict with himself, and this particular piece of Maruki’s confidant immediately reminded me of this:

He’s talking about Akira here, but isn’t it interesting to note that Akechi’s internalized and externalized realities are, in contrast to Akira’s, the farthest they could possibly be from each other? His sense of justice, childlike desire to be loved and seen as a hero, in contrast to the cold-blooded murderer he had become? It’s like there are two people fighting it out inside of Akechi’s brain (lol) which must cause him a lot of distress. I don’t believe that Robin Hood is a ruse or that his Detective Prince façade is entirely fake. The way I see it, they are his ideal, which he strayed so far away from he lost grasp of who he himself is.

In my opinion, Akechi has never cared about fame the slightest bit, he used all of that as an opportunity to act out the person he wished he was, just and virtuous, while still being the feral murderer and bloodstained person he is today. These are two integral parts of him that he has never known how to reconcile. It’s interesting to note that in the third semester he was the one who since the beginning advocated firmly to return to the harsh reality but he had spent the entire game living in the comforting “detective prince” dream he made for himself until the engine room scene happened. 

With the third semester context, the engine room becomes so interesting because that scene is akin to Sumire finding out she’s not Kasumi. It’s a cold bucket of water thrown straight to Akechi’s face and telling him to wake up from this lie he made to comfort himself and face reality: he is no hero. Despite the fact that he is, too, a victim, he is simultaneously a murderer who perpetuated with the cycle of his father’s aggressions and he cannot escape that fact. Worse, he was being manipulated all along and his revenge plan and arguably his only reason to live AND justification for his actions was completely crushed.

Once again, this Umineko scene illustrates what I think Akechi’s situation up until that point was like:

Akechi rationalized every awful, inexcusable thing he did as, “It’s for my revenge’s sake” and ran with it. He was incredibly blinded by his hate and ignored the weight of the consequences of his actions up until that point where everything came crashing down right in front of his eyes. There is no excuse and no justification for that.

However, Akechi was also abused himself. There is no excuse for what he did, but is getting back at the person who took everything from him so reprehensible a thought? Is wanting justice against someone who essentially ruined your life not understandable? Many people like to say “cool motive still murder” or things of the like, but I’m asking you again to put yourself in his shoes.

Yet AGAIN with a Umineko screencap:

I played this the other day and one of the first things I thought of was Akechi. A lot of people draw parallels between Akechi and Adachi, but that’s just so damn wrong and make me lose my hair so much and become completely bald because that couldn’t be farther from the truth and I’m gently asking you to reconsider. In the pic above, Adachi would fit the “homicidal maniac” mentioned to a T, and while Akechi is by absolutely no means free of guilt and much less a stellar person, his crimes were moved completely by his heart. 

For the people who use his choice to become Shido’s hitman to say Akechi does not deserve any kind of forgiveness and that he’s a murderous maniac, I ask you to at least think of what state of mind he was at that moment. Think very hard about it, imagine how completely bleak life must have looked like then, to the point that he risked everything on murder.

This is nothing more than my speculation, but I believe Akechi’s thought process at that moment was something along the lines of, “I have nothing to lose since my (current) life is completely meaningless". It was as if he had reached such a numb state he chose to forgo all his morals and humanity in pursuit of at least one thing that would give his life meaning, that being his hate for Shido, which I also think was the only emotion he ever truly understood well ever since his mom passed.

Since Akechi is all about conflicting emotions though, I would also like to remind you how vulnerable Akechi really is to any kind of affection. His “childlikeness” that Robin Hood represents was, by all accounts, still there. Akechi has a desperate need to be loved while simultaneously putting up walls and wearing masks, making it extremely difficult to have any kind of meaningful relationship. This is something that Shido thoroughly takes advantage of, too.

That’s also why one of his lines to Akira hit so much harder for me, following this reasoning. “If only we had met a few years earlier,” expresses many emotions at once. If Akechi had known something other than misery and hatred during that period of his life he would not have latched so thoroughly to that revenge plan. Akechi simply had nothing to lose, since he had nothing at all.

I mentioned earlier that Akechi doesn’t regret a thing, which I still think it’s true. Before he had met Akira, he truly did not regret a thing, but meeting Akira caused him a lot of strife because not only Akira is a person whose whole existence flaunts everything Akechi could have had if he hadn’t fallen into fate’s trap, but Akechi also experiences happiness through his connection with Akira. Hanging out and talking to him truly makes him happy, and it’s something more genuine than he’s ever known. Yet, it’s too late, because his choices were already set in stone and he had already pulled the trigger with no way to take any of the bullets back.

That’s why Akechi is so confusing, so controversial and sometimes uncomfortable to think about. There is no clear line between good or bad, he just is something in the middle. Akechi is both a person who ruined a lot of people’s lives with no regard whatsoever to the consequences but also a victim rebelling and retaliating against the person who took everything from him and made his life a living hell. That’s why it’s so hard for not only some players to form opinions about him but also downright uncomfortable for the Phantom Thieves to think about. There is no objectively best answer for what he deserves. It just doesn’t exist. Should he spend the rest of his life in jail, or dead, because his crimes were inexcusable? Or should he be given another chance at life to learn to be happy? It’s entirely subjective, and that’s why he’s so great to think or discuss about. 

Aaand that’s it, I’m grateful you read so far, hope I didn’t piss anyone off, also not gonna pretend this wasn’t very self indulgent because of the amount of times I quoted Umineko in it. Anyways, thank you!

SIDE NOTE: I didn’t write this recently, it had been sitting on my drafts for some months now and I found it again today and decided to just release it into the wild because why not? I think this was meant to be much longer than it is and to elaborate more eloquently on a lot of points I brought up (like the PT with Akechi) but alas, I lost the train of thought and so it Perished.

#goro akechi #meta #p5r spoilers #persona 5 #p5 #persona 5 royal #character analysis #long post

[yusuke-of-valla]

face down in the carpet i feel safe

Gen, but you can read Shukita

TW: cursing, bleeding, self-depricating thoughts, mind control

[A/N]: @soniagiris​ welp. I stabbed the boy.

Wordcount: 1456

AO3

-

It’s almost like being in a dream. Things seem perfectly normal while you’re sleeping, but when you wake up you can’t understand how you thought the 8 foot tall bats flying down the street made any kind of sense.

It’s so funny, Yusuke can’t help but laugh while Makoto tries to staunch the blood flowing from his abdomen.

“Diarahan! Diarahan! Fucking diarahan!”

“Stop, you’ll just tire yourself out.”

“It- this should work! Why isn’t it working?”

It’s his own fault, naturally. He was too slow. If he’d just dodged that Marin Karin, if he hadn’t missed the shadow earlier and allowed Ann to finish it off before this could happen, he wouldn’t have gotten hit, and he wouldn’t have gotten wrapped up in a world where it made perfect sense to attack Akira, and Akira wouldn’t have had to stab him to get him to stop.

“We’ll just have to get him to a hospital. Skull, grab his legs, we need to get him into the bus.”

“Alright. Ya hear that, Fox? We’re going to get you help. Just hold tight buddy.”

If he’s being honest, he deserves this. Yusuke had barely slept the night before. He’d sat in his room in the dark trying to paint, just fucking paint— he used to be good at this didn’t he? He used to be able to make art that meant something, that reached people right?— and if he could’ve just done the one damn thing he’s done his entire life, if he’d just been enough then maybe he would’ve been rested and wouldn’t have been such a failure. He wouldn’t have let his friends down and gotten used like that and-

“I think he’s hyperventilating? Should he be hyperventilating? C’mon Inari you’re not allowed to die on us!”

“Fox, can you hear us? Just focus on my voice, alright? It’ll be okay”

Nothing is remotely okay. Yusuke doesn’t know the last time he’d been “okay”, not really. There had been days where he could keep his head above water but he’s always been one mistake away from being lost beneath the waves. It’s only natural that his luck finally ran out.

“Is the wound… getting worse?”

“What?!”

“Shit, I think he’s right. It’s getting bigger.”

“How is it getting bigger?”

“I don’t know! We’ve been keeping him as steady as possible.”

There’s too much shouting. Too many bright lights, too much going on. He wants-

He wants to feel like himself again.

He wants to feel like a person instead of some useless thing that can’t even do the one thing he’s really good at.

He wants to feel stable, and like he knows what’s expected of him, and what he needs to do.

He wants to be back at Madarame’s.

He wants to not be so pathetic. That’s really the right word for it, isn’t? He’s a child trying to cling desperately to a lie.

It’s so fucking funny.

Yusuke isn’t sure if he’s laughing or crying right now.

“Panther, knock him out.”

“What?”

“Just put him to sleep! I’ll explain in a second, but I think he’s the one making it worse.”

“Alright. Carmen!”

~

Yusuke wakes up in a hospital room. He tilts his head to see Akechi in the corner, reading a book.

Yusuke considers saying something, but the thought of talking feels like too much effort so he just watches Akechi, until Akechi looks up.

“Ah. You’re awake,” Akechi says, putting the book down and taking out his phone quickly. “How are you feeling?”

Yusuke hums noncommittally. He feels like trash, but he’s not giving Akechi that ammunition.

Akechi nods. “I see.”

Suddenly, the door bursts open and the rest of the Phantom Thieves spill into the room. 

“Yusuke!” Ann gasps. 

“Holy shit dude, don’t scare us like that!” Ryuji says. He looks like he’s been crying.

Yusuke supposes he can’t keep quiet now.

“Sorry?” Yusuke says. His voice is shaky and hoarse.

“We were so scared you…” Makoto takes a deep breath, and steadies her voice. “You lost a lot of blood, and the doctors said you’ll have to be here for at least another week, but probably a little longer.”

“Oh.” is all Yusuke can say, and really isn’t that just the cherry on top? They’ll insist on putting off any future operations for his sake now. He really is useless.

“Can you guys give us some alone time?” Akira asks. The others share a look, Futaba especially looks like she wants to protest, but eventually they all leave the room. Akira pulls up a chair closer to Yusuke, and sits down.

“Sorry for stabbing you.” Akira says.

“It was mostly my fault.” Yusuke replies.

Akira stares at him, and Yusuke isn’t sure he’s ever seen their leader truly at a loss for words. Akira’s been known to pause sometimes, to think over the best thing to say, but Yusuke’s never seen him look like this.

“I know what you’re going to say.” Yusuke says.

“You do?”

“I’ll accept my removal from the Phantom Thieves graciously, you don’t need to worry.” Akira’s eyes widen, and Yusuke tries to keep his composure. Of course this would happen, he messed up, he caused problems, which means he’s out. There’s no use keeping around someone who can’t pull their weight.

“Yusuke, no.” Akira says. “I would never dream of kicking you out, why would you even-” Akira takes a deep breath. “Alright, I can guess why, but still. That’s not true. What I was going to say was, after I stabbed you, the wound didn’t close up, no matter what we tried. And Akechi said that maybe the problem was your cognition.” Akira bites his lip. “Like, you didn’t want to be healed, or you didn’t think you should be.”

Yusuke turns away so that he’s not looking into Akira’s eyes anymore. “I… suppose my thinking was along the lines of ‘I failed, so I deserve it’,” he mutters.

“Yusuke… you didn’t fail. It was just an accident, it happens to the best of us.”

“When the others get brainwashed, they're not relentless to the point that you’re forced to stab them to get them to stop.” Because if there’s one thing Yusuke’s always been good at, it’s doing what he’s told. He’d gone after Akira with aplomb, had his hands around their leader’s neck and squeezed until Akira was forced to lash out and-

“That wasn’t you failing.”

“Then what is?” Yusuke snaps. What does he mean that wasn’t a failure? Yusuke nearly killed him, then he worried everyone because Yusuke apparently can’t be healed, so now he’s a liability in battle and-

Yusuke wants to scream. Akira is too nice. He’s never bothered by anything Yusuke does and Yusuke’s sick of it. Someone is always bothered by something Yusuke does, Yusuke can’t not fuck up somehow. Eventually he crosses one of the ten billion invisible lines that everyone but him seems to know, so why won’t Akira just tell him which ones to avoid? Why does he have to keep insisting there isn’t a point when Yusuke won’t be enough?

“Nothing.” Akira says firmly. 

“That isn’t true.”

“Yes it is.”

Yusuke rolls his eyes. “Akira, that’s absolute nonsense. There has to be a line. I could get Futaba killed. I could reveal your secrets, I could-”

“But you wouldn’t.” Akira insists. 

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do. I trust you Yusuke.” Akira places a hand on Yusuke’s. “Please, trust yourself. Trust that you are doing the best you can do right now, trust that you don’t have to force yourself to be better, and trust that you’re not falling short of some sort of cosmic prerequisite for people to care about you.”

“You are a magnificent liar, Akira.” Yusuke says, drawing his hand away.

“I’m not lying.” Akira says. “Yusuke please look at me.” Begrudgingly, he does, and Akira takes off his glasses and meets Yusuke’s eyes. 

“Yusuke, I promise you, there is no way you could fail me, or any of the others in a way that would make us leave. You’re not going to be thrown away the second you’re no longer useful, alright?”

Yusuke nods. 

“And I am going to keep telling you that until you believe me. The others too.” Akira says.

Akira’s words hang in the air, and Yusuke...

A part of him wants to believe Akira.

Another part reminds him of the last time Yusuke desperately wanted to believe someone.

“Can you please go?” Yusuke mutters. “I’d like to take a nap.”

Akira stares at him, and for a split second Yusuke thinks that Akira will say no, and demand his attention, but eventually Akira nods. “Yeah, sure. We’ll be here when you wake up.

#persona 5 #yusuke kitagawa #ren amamiya #akira kurusu #shukita #alto writes #blood tw #cursing tw #mind control tw #self-deprecation tw #wordcount: 1000-1500 #fun fact leaving comments or reblogging gives me serotonin ✌🏽

[oddlybitter]

just a dog with no bite

CW: Referenced Suicide, Referenced Sex Work, Swearing, Violence Mention, Death Mention 

this one is also on ao3 under the series Black Nightingale. it’s a roleswap AU with Ann as the Black Mask/Traitor, and might not be trigger-safe for those sensitive to violence and death. please keep that in mind, and happy (?) reading!

She stares across the coffee table, watching Akechi Goro's eyes scan over the menu. One leg crossed over the other, he's the perfect vision of poise, leaning his elbow on the arm of the cocktail chair. Ann peers over her sunglasses at him, adjusting her vinyl jacket. She's just come back from a shoot, dressed to the nines in designer brands and big-name labels.

"I think I'll have the tiramisu. What do you think?" He muses, running a hand through his hair.

God, he so desperately needs a haircut. Ann pops the lid off of her lipgloss, eyeing his face. It would help if he tied it back every now and then, but it's still far too long.

"I'll take a coffee. Low fat, soy milk, please." She says, handing him the menu.

Akechi smiles courteously, then flags down a waiter, ordering with the social graces of some sycophant at one of Shido's parties. Once the girl leaves, he turns back to her, his hand underneath his jaw.

"Well, then. What did you need from me, Ann? I can call you Ann, right?" He smiles like a shark, all teeth and no eyes.

She reciprocates, her own smile razor sharp. "Of course you can, silly. We're practically brother and sister, save from the fact my mother wasn't a whore!"

He's unfazed, brushing a speck of dust from his shoulder. "Don't worry, Ann, your parents were soon to follow her to the grave. It must have been so hard to put up with you, so I don't blame them for kicking the bucket either."

Steely sets of eyes stare at each other from opposite ends of a coffee table, a blazing fireplace behind them. They stare each other down for a while until Akechi sighs, raising an eyebrow as if he was superior to her.

"What do you want, Ann? I really appreciate the outing, but you're awfully stingy when it comes to spending money on your brother."  

Ann keeps the smile plastered on her face. "You're not my brother. I want you out of my way. I work so much harder than you do, and my hands get dirtier in the process, while yours only get stickier. "

He makes a face. "Don't be so crass."

"It's the truth," She shrugs, drumming her ruby-red nails on the arm of the sofa, "Like mother, like son. Do you get off on it?"

Akechi inhales deeply, crossing his right leg over his left. "Ann, this is not the time."

She grins wider, leaning forward. "That's right! You have your little boyfriend to take care of now. What's he like? Oh, my God, he's a virgin, isn't he? You must be so thrilled."

Akechi clenches his jaw, his eyes teeming with hidden rage. "Shut up."

She's grinning widely now, laughter pouring from her mouth like acid. It looks like Akechi's furious, only a few words away from shaking. She leans back, examining her nails.

"What's his name again? Akira, right? He's cute, I'll give him that, but he just seems so innocent. Totally not your type." She drawls, looking up at him from over her sunglasses.

Akechi's knuckles crack as he grips the sides of the cocktail chair, a snarl clear on his face. Oh, this is just too easy. It usually takes so much more than this to get him riled up, but it seems he has a weakness for his little boy-toy.

"Ann, I strongly suggest you shut your mouth before the waiter becomes a witness in court." He hisses, only to have her laugh in his face.  

She giggles, raising a hand to her mouth. "You? Threaten me? Oh, baby, I don't think so. I hold all the cards here, Goro. I come with a business offer, if you will."

He rolls his eyes. "Father would be so proud."

Ann frowns, flicking her glasses off. The waiter troops in, carrying a silver tray in her hands. She smiles at her, giving her a rolled-up banknote as a tip. The waitress scurries away, squeaking in delight. How cute.

Akechi waits, crossing his arms over his chest. Smiling sweetly, she takes her time, sipping her coffee slowly. Once the cup is set back on the saucer, she folds her hands over her knee.

"So, brother of mine, I want you to stop taking chunks out of my workload." She states, looking him in the eye.

Bristling, Akechi raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean? I only accept the jobs Shido gives to me, never any out of your quota. Unlike you, I have a low tolerance for sleeping with old men. Although, I understand why you take such pleasure in putting bullets in their skulls."

He's back to playing aloof, but Ann hasn't brought out her big weapon yet. "That's a little odd. What happened with Kamoshida?"

"He wasn't even a target. He got what was coming to him, but that was all you, Ann. Do you think I wanted his disgusting hands on me?" He raises his eyebrow again, feigning supremacy.

Ann sighs, leaning against the arm of the sofa. "Oh, I was hoping it wouldn't come to this."

"What?" He asks, his patience starting to run thin, "Ann, I am trying to stay as far away from you as possible. If you have a problem with it, take it up with Shido."

She slams her hands down on the table, standing up. The coffee cup shakes, spilling a small splash of hot liquid on the lacquered wood. "I don't believe you. I want you off my back, or I start taking it out on your little boyfriend."

Akechi tenses, starting out of his chair like a feral dog. "Leave Akira out of this, or so help me God, I'll fucking tear you to pieces."

She grabs a fistful of his dress shirt, picking up the butter knife from the table. "Do it, pretty boy. I dare you. Fuck me up real bad and see where that gets you."

A low chuckle draws out of his throat, bordering on a growl. "You have no idea how much I've dreamed about it." Then the snarl is gone, replaced with a pleasant smile. "But I won't. After all, senseless murder is your forte, isn't it?"

He prises her fingers from his collar, straightening out his jacket, and sitting back down. She's still standing, the butter knife grasped tightly in her hands. The coffee continues to pool on the table, steaming hot, dripping onto the carpet. Akechi stands up to leave, gathering his overcoat in his arms. The tiramisu is left untouched, the butter knife clattering from Ann's hands.

A pleasant smile forms on his face as he slides his overcoat on. "You should talk to Father about the workload."

She can only nod, a blank expression on her face. "Okay."

"And, Ann, one more thing," He turns in the doorway, one hand placed on the frame. "If you even touch Akira, I'll gut you." And then he's gone, the door sliding shut behind him.

Ann sits alone in a restaurant's private lounge, watching the coffee drip from the table to the floor, a fruit fly landing on the cake in front of the empty chair across from her.

#tw suicide mention #tw sex work #tw swearing #tw mention of violence #tw mention of death #also on ao3 #the series is black nightingale #role swap #anngoro half-siblings agenda #ann takamaki #black mask ann takamaki #goro akechi #shuake #akeshu #strangelysweet's fics #p5 fanfic #fanfic #persona 5 #p5 #AU

[hibibun]

Do Over

Series: Persona 5 Pairing: Akira Kurusu/Goro Akechi Summary: Akira tries one last time to convince him and is surprised it didn't actually end with a bullet to the head. Warnings: Implied Suicide Ideation Notes: it has been a Long time since i replayed p5 especially when i first wrote this so please forgive any continuity errors. on that note i also have not played royal and this was written long before that came out or was announced so it will have no relation to it.  AO3

Akira knew it was reckless, but he had hoped it would be more a danger to himself than anyone else. Futaba and Morgana had worked so hard putting together their plan, yet, there was one other option that kept nagging the bespectacled teen. There were conversations, looks, just things about Goro Akechi that he couldn’t ignore even with the damning proof that he was about to betray them sitting in front of him.

It was impossible to ignore that the detective was also an actor, but there times came to mind that didn’t feel fake. It was selfish and stupid, but Akira wanted to know why. Why did Goro feel like he needed to do this? What did he gain from the other murders other than a ‘crime’ to solve as he can’t have known that the Phantom Thieves would pop up to eventually take the blame for those incidents?

He’d planned to ask that and more from the other, but the minute he meets him alone by the secluded portion of Shibuya’s train station that served as one of their former hideouts, all the words he’d planned vanish.

“What did you need? The calling card isn’t going out for another week I thought.”

Speaking has never been his strong suit, nor was subtlety.

“Why did you pretend not to know we were the Phantom Thieves?” Akira asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Truly nothing gets past you,” Goro answered a wide smile forming on his face, “What gave me away?

“Pancakes.”

The word lingered as the detective took a moment to remember just what that could be referring to.

“You’re always surprising me Kurusu-san, but unfortunately, I don’t think I can tell you why I lied just yet,” he said as his genuine smile dipped into that fake one once more, “Unless you’ve already come here because you know why I can’t.”

Akira didn’t want to admit anything despite it being clear on the other’s face that he knew. Some perhaps naïve side of him had hoped Goro could be reasoned or bargained with. He hasn’t given up per se, but there’s little else he can think to say considering he’s already compromised the plan quite a bit just by admitting he was aware something’s off.

“I don’t actually. I don’t know why you’re doing this at all.”

The detective’s careful smile remained static and Akira was having difficulty now telling whether it was actually real or fake, as if Goro’s mouth hadn’t quite decided which it was making either.

“Think about it a little harder. I know you’re not stupid Akira.”

His fingers froze as he’d been in the midst of fiddling with the front of his bangs out of nervous habit. That was the first time he’s heard the other use his first name and he wished it wasn’t filled with so much malice.

“You… aren’t on our side are you? Not really anyway,” he answered, but that part was obvious. It didn’t really explain anything. He’d thought—no, hoped—different though. As if some part of Goro had wanted to be with them, but simply couldn’t for some reason. The truth that maybe he didn’t want to and that his hatred towards them was actually sincere seemed to blindside Akira and he kind of hated himself for thinking otherwise.

“You know what’s going to happen to us, but what’s going to happen to you?” Akira pushed, desperate to get his point across even if it was obvious now more than ever that his feelings were always stronger than the one standing in front of him.

“I’ll finish the job, take the credit and then… well, I’ll deliver the comeuppance I’ve been striving for,” Goro replied vaguely and it took Akira a moment to parse what he meant. The whole thing struck him as odd though. His words didn’t sound as confident as they usually did and he was left wondering if that was really what the detective wanted. Even more so, it didn’t answer the original question in the slightest as it left Goro’s fate more ambiguous than ever.

“If we both want to tear things down, why are you so against joining us? We could help you,” Akira reasoned, selfishly adding, “I want to help you.”

Goro’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he stepped closer. Akira unintentionally backed up until he felt the bar of the railing dig into his back, suddenly aware of how close he is to the edge.

“Someone like you or your little friends could never understand. I don’t care if we want the same things. I don’t even care if what you’re all doing actually is helping society or not. In the end, I just want to see that man fall from grace by my own hands, and nothing, will take that away from me,” Goro seethed, as he placed a carefully gloved hand to the other’s chest.

“You can’t help me and more than that I would never want attic trash like you to even try.”

He punctuated his point by grabbing tight the folded label of Akira’s uniform, but his hands didn’t push one way or the other. Akira was expecting it though and braced for the fall, surprised when it didn’t come. Quite frankly, it was the only thing that gave him the courage to keep talking.

“What makes you think he doesn’t already know what you’re planning to do? You’re not exactly subtle, Akechi,” Akira said, a bemused expression on his face despite the situation at hand, “You’re dead no matter what you do. Just like me.”

Just slightly, the grip the detective had on his jacket loosened and he could tell his words were affecting the other’s resolve. Despite this, Goro continued on as if he still had every intention of pushing him.

“If you know what I’m intending to do, your little friends must be trying to stop me. Considering I could end things now, you might as well tell me what it is they plan on doing.”

“That’s the thing Akechi, we don’t have a plan. You’re going to betray us, and I’m the one who will take the fall,” He bluffed, interested at this point in seeing if anything he has to say will convince him.  

“So you came here to try and stop me now? That’s pretty stupid—and pathetic,” Goro chuckled, no humor actually present in his laugh.

“No, I mostly just wanted to know why; and to be honest, you still haven’t really told me,” Akira explained and the detective hated the way his expression made his words seem almost believable. Before he could open his mouth to tear apart Akira’s words, the other broke his rhythm with a question so quiet it took him a minute to process it.

“Were we ever friends?”

Goro could admit, he had wanted that. Somewhere in between his attempts to spy on them and the times they actually spent time together, he and Akira had felt like friends. Yet, that line was so blurry at times as well. With the amount of connections the other had, why would he ever take the time to actually think of the detective in that manner? Someone like him already had everything he could ever want, even with a permanently damaged reputation and a less than pleasant living situation.

He would never have any of those things no matter how hard he tried. His reputation was built on a stack of lies that would come tumbling down the moment he let go of the trigger as he publicly destroyed his father’s life. Then where would he be? Likely dead or soon to be dead, but he told himself such an outcome was worth it. He had nothing before this and even if he had nothing afterwards, what did it matter? The last thing he could do with his life was at least ease his resentment.  

Even after losing everything, Akira had more than him, but there’s something rotten and painfully sweet that even with everything he has that he still would want someone like Goro.

“And here I was calling you my equal, but you’re stupider than I thought,” Goro eventually replied, voice tight with bitterness and a dash of fear. He hated that his words were only met with a smile. As if everything he just said was seen through in an instant because truthfully, he knew for as idiotic and thoughtless Akira was when it came to taking a risk, he was anything but a moron.

“Is it really so hard to believe me? They wouldn’t hate you for wanting to seek revenge. That’s what the Phantom Thieves do,” Akira tried again figuring one last time couldn’t hurt. The detective hunched his shoulders, his grip on the other’s lapel losing all of its hold. It was supposed to feel satisfying taking their little group down and killing Akira with them, but suddenly he couldn’t find it in him. However briefly, he had entertained the notion that this all was a trap, but of course Akira is stupidly earnest and even more foolishly optimistic.

“They’ll never accept what I’ve done. Even if they feel the same way about him, I…” He started, before Akira cut him off.

“I can’t promise you that, nor can I say whether they’d forgive you, but I didn’t feel right just letting this happen without talking to you. There’s no reason you can’t start changing now, it’s not too late,” Akira said as his own hand moved to delicately unwind Goro’s from his jacket.

“What would you even tell them? Would they believe you?”

“I’d say you had a change of heart,” Akira joked, his eyes giving away how much he wanted to make the mood lighter. Goro couldn’t help the laughter it drew out of him and violently he has the urge to intertwine their fingers while his hand was still being held.

“It’s not like I can change things now. I guess I couldn’t kill you after all,” he replied instead, drawing his hand away entirely. Goro watched the way the other’s mouth twitches up into a smile and when he opened it to answer, he can tell this time it is with complete sincerity.

“I’m touched.”

#writing #writing: persona 5 #pairing: shuake #character: akira kurusu #character: goro akechi #suicide ideation - #akeshu #shuake

[lokiarsene]

I know modern fandom folks--mostly young adults--go into moral panics about “problematic” characters, which is really just shorthand for characters who aren’t one dimensional mouthpieces that in no way contribute to the necessary drama of a story. And I think this is a really pointless way to look at and work with pieces of fiction, especially a game like Persona 5, whose main cast of “heroes” are intentionally made to be by default non lawful.

If you look at what they do removed from context, you have the following: a group of people invade the most personal, private spaces within the human consciousness in order to trigger a dramatic mental and psychological change in someone they’ve deemed a fitting target. They do this regularly in Mementos, and are basically little more than hired mental hitmen thanks to the Phan-site giving them suggestions of who to find next. If successful, the target suffers physical and mental distress, sometimes to the point of requiring hospitalization, and a complete emotional breakdown when forced to face up to the severity of their actions.

All of that is fucking terrifying!

Most of their targets were horrible fucking people so I waste no tears or sympathy on them. And while I as a person would totally support these methods if they were possible in real life, I also recognize that to study P5′s characters and analyze them, you have to set aside your personal moral code to look at what is the story’s moral code.

And the moral code is large swathes of gray.

Nobody in the main crew of Persona 5 is purely “innocent” (in the sense of puritanical fandom’s concept of innocence). None of them. By default the PT are lawless, and if you go by the D&D morality alignment (which isn’t about how moral your actions are from an outside perspective, but what the character’s personal morals and behavior are) they are chaotic good at best.

What the PT do is justified in the sense that corruption is so deeply entrenched in society that they can’t rely on adults or the justice system to bring about true justice. The ends (change of heart) justify their means (forcing a change of heart), and that’s borderline Machiavellian thinking. What stops them from being purely Machiavellian is the fact that the PT are also driven by empathy and a sense of morality. We see them struggle against vain things like self-interest while also working to uphold their original goal of bringing society’s corrupted adults to justice.

I really think this is one of the major things that people in the P5 fandom on here don’t get, especially if they have some weird hate fascination with Akechi. It’s absolutely hypocritical to point fingers at Akechi for what he did and yet completely overlook everything the game set up to remind you, the player, that the PT are doing risky, dangerous shit and forcing themselves into someone’s consciousness. Akechi spends half the fucking game talking about how questionable their methods are! Did you think that was just put in there for shits and giggles? There’s a reason why it gets under the PT’s skin--because it’s not far from the truth!

They are forcing a change in people who, yeah, shouldn’t be doing what they’re doing, but that doesn’t change the fact that the PT are the ones conducting a mental and moral breakdown that forces a confession. And you know, when I put it like that, you know what that sounds like? Ren getting beaten in the interrogation room, drugged, and forced to sign a confession.

The game repeatedly draws lines between what the PT does for “justice” and what they’re trying to change because they’re comparable methods with different motives. But they’re still the same (or similar) methods! We can talk for days about whether this is morally justified or not, but the fact still remains that the game is drawing these lines and it is foolish to overlook them.

That’s another reason why Sae’s final words to Ren are what they are--she asks them to leave reforming society in her (and adults’) hands now. That’s the end result of all the efforts in P5: you can’t and shouldn’t take the law into your own hands. If you want to see change happen, you need to be a part of it from within. You have to contribute to the change, instead of force it. I wonder how P5R will add on to that theme or even change it, since a big thing this time around seems to be wishes/dreams coming true, “stealing” those dreams, and whether dreaming itself is even a good thing if all it does is lead you to retreating from reality. Maybe that’ll be the third semester’s plot point?

Now. I mention.... all of that because one of the other things I think people miss is how Ren isn’t some pure uwu cinnamon roll, either. He was falsely accused and unjustly labeled a criminal, but he’s also the ringleader of a group of people who invade and force changes inside people’s subconsciousnesses. He constantly forms bonds and makes deals with people on the fringes of lawfulness themselves (with very few exceptions--which is weird to me, because those exceptions stand out as functionally pointless in a story like this). He’s the Trickster, the Wild Card, the core of the PT’s spirit of rebellion. Those words and descriptions aren’t just for show, y’all. Plus his Velvet Room is him locked up in prison! It reflects his view of himself as a criminal! So if Ren sees himself as a lawless outcast, why are there people in the P5 fandom who can’t see that themselves?

I think it would’ve been far more satisfying (and more overtly establish Ren as morally gray) if Ren remembered Shido from the beginning, and had his end result goal as finding a way to Shido to make him pay. Knowing Shido’s identity from the start removes that pointless “twist” at the end about him being bad, but it also sets up a really fucking strong rebellious motive for Ren from the start. Everything he does with the PT would be about taking apart Shido’s web of informants, sycophants, and puppets without that “you can see it coming from a mile away” ~twist~ of Shido being evil all along.

There really isn’t any point in messing with Ren’s memory--it doesn’t add anything to the story. If his damaged memory is a result of trauma, it’s never addressed or handled in any way. So just get rid of it and have Ren know all along who he wants to go after, he just doesn’t know how. Which would add so much drama and tension to the already dramatically satisfying Ren/Goro stuff the game gives us. Because Goro is nothing but honest about his goals: getting revenge on the adult who ruined his life. He might be hiding his other plans, but the main motive and his main focus isn’t hidden from the PT at all.

Now just imagine the conflict that Ren would have to go through when he realized not only was Goro trying to trick them, but they were both going after Shido all along. Aren’t enemies of your enemy your friend? They were both going after the same man who ruined their fucking lives--wouldn’t that make them allies (of a sort)? And as if that weren’t enough, all the time they spent together, all they shared and learned of each other--all that Goro confided in Ren--would make for an even more dramatic and painful conflict of trying to trick Goro before he can sell them out. Because it’s not like all those moments together were for nothing. They still happened, they still mattered, they still changed Ren because it was significant enough to be a Confidant link for Ren. But wouldn’t Ren, being Ren (empathetic, determined, stubbornly selfless to a fault), want to at least try to get Goro to change his mind? Talk to him? Listen to him and still offer that hand to help? Y’know, the thing he does in Shido’s Palace?

This could have happened earlier if Ren knows his target is Shido, deduces that Shido, or someone close to him, is Goro’s target too, and does a desperate attempt to appeal to him--to ~steal his heart~--before it’s too late. And hey, they can still do a twist in the Palace and have them pretend to be enemies, since the writers love twists instead of satisfying writing like they’re a Marvel movie.

I was thinking about all that this morning, and how I actually wish Ren had remembered Shido from the start and what that would do to the story and his relationship with Goro. I don’t really know why they mess with Ren’s memory and do that whole ~remember your bonds~ thing during the interrogation, since it doesn’t make sense. Especially since they had him do that later during the Yalda fight, where it makes more sense (and it’s something the previous games have done). They try to pass it off as Ren struggling to remember the truth, but then the whole first three acts of the game are him clearly remembering everything he did since he got to Shibuya, and telling it to Sae in the interrogation room. If they just removed his damaged memory entirely (both wrt Shido, and wrt the truth serum), I think the story would be far better off for it.

I’ve always said that this game really needed a second draft and a partial rewrite, so I’m hoping that’s what P5R ends up being.

#long post #this is the ask tag

[wolfir-shard]

You Know I’d Do Anything For You

FUCKNKGIN CHALLENGE ACCEPTED everyone please go shower minty in love ok?? AUs r TOP-NOTCH here’s... a small take of my own on the Minake Detective/Hitman AU ;A;

There were worse and less ironic ways to die, but Minato wasn’t really bothered by it. It was almost hilarious that he would be bleeding like this on the ground of some seedy warehouse in the dead of night with Goro Akechi pushing hair out of his eyes.

He gave a little laugh at the ridiculous nature of it all that became more of a cough, and it hurt a lot more than he was expecting. That was the problem with pain: your brain dampened the effect after it was over with, so every time something happened it hurt anew, like your were a child just seeing the universe and experiencing pain for the first time.

“Why?” Akechi hissed out angrily, already trying to pull his shirt away from the wound, and drawing Minato's attention. “Why the hell did you do that, Arisato-?!”

Minato winced at the roughness and the feverish pace of the pulling. He bit his lip and grinned weakly in reply, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead. “Y-Y’know, I thought you would be more grateful…”

“Shut up!” There was a frazzled fray to the other’s voice that caused Minato to obey, and he turned his eyes to Akechi.

The other’s teeth were grit, reddish-brown eyes shining with unshed tears, and hair hanging in little wet ringlets from the rain outside. He looked pitiful and terrible, a panicking creature trying desperately to fight an inevitable. Minato felt his brow furrow slightly, and then he winced again as Akechi prodded the wound.

It had been a simple investigation at first glance. The warehouse had been a weird place to go to for a search to be fair, but a string of otherwise unrelated clues about the strange disappearances the two were investigating all kept pointing here, so it was imperative they at least check out the space. They’d pulled up just as night was falling in Minato’s old navy blue car, stepping out into the rain and meager streetlight like some kind of bad detective noir movie.

The warehouse was dark, and damp, and full of shadows that kept them both on edge. The towers of crates, half illuminated, the maddening plink of dripping water… Everything was a strain to not focus on, and both of them were far, far too nervous. They walked back to back through the aisles, guns at the ready, and eyes scanning the darkness for threats. Once or twice Minato thought he saw one or two shadows actually move, and they would halt, but neither ever managed to catch sight of whatever was casting them.

Searching out what they needed had been going nowhere, and Minato was ready to throw in the towel for the night when several men had stepped out of the shadows and into view. Minato wasn’t sure at the time why there were so many, where they had come from, why they had guns -- too many facts all at once -- but Akechi had gone as white as a sheet, one had raised his gun, and Minato was moving in front of Akechi before any of them had the time to think.

The bullet had connected with him and it was like someone had stabbed him with a spear made of molten rock. All at once his mind was too slow and he was stumbling back, and the shock was written so clearly on the man's face, the shock and the disgust that was so chilling it made him feel momentarily sick. It was as if he had never anticipated someone stepping in front of… What must have been his target.

Goro. Minato’s mind supplied as he fell ungracefully forwards onto his knees, the whole world moving in slow motion. He was going to shoot Goro.

In that moment most of everything clicked into place, as if the murder board and the files flashing before his eyes, details he stored and bookmarked for later were all thrown open across his mind’s eye. Goro Akechi coming to work for him, he connections to the government, the suddenly silenced news outlets, the disappearances...  Masayoshi Shido, the mayoral hopeful, covering up scandals and alternate viewpoints with the quick and quiet extension of a hitman, in a detecting inner circle, access to high-level cases and equipment, information… It fell so neatly into place Minato was honestly impressed, and a little bit pissed off it had taken him until now to realize it.

Minato was a target -- had been a target? -- but if he wasn’t dead that meant he had been important, he had been right not to be trusting and now there was a price being paid for their guards being down.

He raised his head, the first man was raising his gun again, but Minato heard the muffled burst of a silenced gun and then the man was stumbling back, and then the man was running, and the bursts repeated three or four times, sending the other hitmen scattering. Goro kept firing at their retreating bodies, his hands shaking minutely. Minato took a rattling breath and his entire body set on fire, causing him to slump forwards with a whimper of pain.

Then Akechi was on him, all hands and support and Minato found himself draped across Akechi’s lap, leaning against his shoulder while the other fumbled to stop the bleeding with shaking hands.

“Why?” Akechi hissed again, though this time it was less shocked and angry. It sounded more pained and scared than anything and Minato fought to keep his eyes open.

“Because… You’re my friend.” Minato said, wincing as the wound stung and pain radiated through his body. “C-Couldn’t just… Do nothing…”

“I’m your enemy you imbecile-” Akechi choked out, fumbling with his own shirt.

“Mm.” Minato acknowledged. “Smart enemy.”

“Stop talking, save your strength.”

“Why are you… Trying to save me?” Minato turned silver eyes back to his companion, who was avoiding eye contact as he ripped fabric to make bandages.

“Because you’re important.” Akechi responded curtly, his hands trembling still.

“Important…?” Minato returned, amused.

“Can you kindly quit being smug for two minutes? Please?”

“Why am I important, Akechi?”

The other fell silent, into a minute where Minato had to breathe a little harder to keep himself conscious.

“You were kind when you didn’t need to be.” Akechi decided on, wrapping the torn shirt around the bleeding wound. “You are a person I wish I could be and everything that I am not.”

“Jealous?”

“Immensely.”

“Did Shido send you after me?”

Akechi bit his lip, and then nodded, almost slumping in quiet defeat.

“Why?”

“You had information he was afraid of getting out. I was to leech you of all useful information and then kill you.”

Minato laughed, and winced. His head was swimming. A target. “Is that so…”

“Minato stay with me-” Akechi pulled him closer, the pain evident in his beautiful ruby eyes. “Stay… Stay with me. Please. W-Why did you jump in front of me?”

“Because… You’re… my friend, Goro.” He murmured again. “We’re partners…”

“You idiot.” Tears were spilling down Akechi’s cheeks, and Minato reached up to wipe them away. “You’re going to die for a Mephistophiles, Minato. I don’t deserve your kindness.”

“M’not dead yet.” Minato murmured, and then sighed as the world began slipping away. “Will you sing for me…?”

“S-Sing?” Akechi repeated.

“Mmh.” Minato nodded, slow and sluggish. “Just… whatever…”

Akechi took in a breath and then gently gathered up Minato, starting to sing as he stood. Minato’s vision and head swayed and he rested his cheek against Goro’s shoulder. There was a heartbeat in his ear, and he wasn’t sure if it was his or Akechi’s, thrumming softly to the beat of the song that echoed like angels in his head, reverberating with a quiet affection that felt too raw and powerful for a mere mortal body. Minato wasn’t aware of when his eyes had closed, only that the darkness around him felt cold, and it was pulling at the warmth encased in his chest.

The darkness felt so safe, so steady and almost inviting despite the cold. The warmth burned him and promised pain and light, and a struggle he was not sure he could win. It would be so easy to let the darkness claim him, soft and silent, falling into it like falling asleep and sinking into the depths like a great ship to its final resting place. It would be so easy to let go.

But the song, it called him, quiet and imploring. It echoed in his soul and his heart, begging him to return to the light. It sounded like love and pain and heartbreak, and Minato was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

The world came into focus slowly, first he could feel. He was somewhere soft, and warm. Dry too. His hand had things wrapped around it, and his other hand was being held. He was breathing. He could feel his hair on his face, something over his mouth and nose. The air smelled sterile and cold… Slowly hearing returned, the quiet beeping of a hospital heart monitor, and the singing. The song that had pulled him just out of slipping away.

Minato cracked his eyes open.

The ceiling of a hospital room greeted his eyes as he blinked the fuzz away and turned his head towards the sound. Akechi was still singing, still soaking wet, holding Minato’s hand and singing quietly to it. All of Minato was hurting right now, and the dim light of the hospital wasn’t quite dim enough for his aching eyes, but it was something. He was alive.

“What was that about me dying?” He croaked, smiling as Akechi jumped a good foot in the air, eyes opening wide and mouth slightly open. The expression made Minato laugh, and it hurt just as much as it did before.

“Minato-!” Akechi lit up like a star, and grasped his hand tighter. “How are you feeling?”

“Like garbage…” He shut his eyes with a quiet wince as he processed the radiating pain. “Feels like someone stabbed me with a rusty pole… But I’m alive.”

“It’s a miracle.” Akechi murmured, still quietly stroking Minato’s hand. The two remained there for a few silent minutes, Minato's only movement being to lace his fingers with Akechi's. He could feel the other's pulse against a wayward finger; fast and panicked still.

“... Did you ever stop singing?” Minato turned his eyes to Akechi again, curious and soft.

Akechi glanced away, and dug his teeth into his lower lip, before quietly admitting “No.” as if he was embarrassed.

Minato smiled, and weakly squeezed his hand. “You had a hand in the miracle.”

“Don’t be silly.” his companion scoffed, though it sounded sad.

“You did.” Minato insisted. “I was right between life and death and the only thing that saved me was your song. I could hear it… Echoing softly in my ear the whole time.” He thumbed the skin of Akechi’s hand.

Akechi blinked at him, as if genuinely surprised, and then smiled, weak and true, and everything soft about the world. Minato wanted to bottle up that smile and keep it forever. “If you say so.”

“I know so.” Minato murmured, still smiling, and Akechi laughed. It was enough for Minato to start laughing too, in this one moment of safety and… trust.

#persona 3 #persona 5 #detective/hitman au #minake #persona #minato arisato #goro akechi #im sorry i wanted it to be perfect #i kept it in my drafts for like five days #me: i need to edit it and make sure it's perfect #sobs #here u go

[ko-chan-the-blueberry-donut]

Spellbound (Futaba/Goro)

Summary: AU modern witchcraft. Futaba witch AU. A witch for hire, Futaba crafts a love potion not realizing it was meant for her friend Goro Akechi. Welp. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Disclaimer: I don’t own Persona 5

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Futaba panted heavily, practically gasping for breath, as she raced to Leblanc. She had to make it there before Goro would drink her potion!

In hindsight, perhaps taking a commission for a love potion wasn’t good judgement on her part, but Futaba had been eyeing a very old potions book from the bookstore for a while, and her greed won out her morality.

Now she was cursing her selfishness.

She should’ve asked sooner who exactly the love potion was for—that should’ve been her first question, but NOPE—that potions book was too deliciously distracting, and now Futaba was left with nothing but to haul her ass to Leblanc where her client would be dropping the love potion into Goro’s coffee.

‘I swear if I make it in time, I take any punishment!’ Futaba begged.

Her legs and lungs burned by the time she got to Leblanc. She could see all her friends there while her most recent client was batting her eyelashes at Goro, who appeared to want to back away but was too polite to do so. Her violet eyes zeroed in on the coffee he was about to sip, and she swore all of the Gods gave her strength in that moment to rush towards him.

“Goro! Wait!” Futaba called, but Goro didn’t seem to hear her so Futaba did the logical thing.

She leaped on top of him and smashed their lips together.

Futaba heard the distinct sound of the coffee cup dropping to the floor while Goro’s eyes widened as well as Ryuji’s shout of “What the hell?!” but her mind focused on the fact that her and Goro were currently lip-locking. Futaba sighed in relief, about to pull away, but was surprised when Goro closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him, and roughly biting on her lip to let his tongue into her mouth. Futaba gasped as Goro’s tongue traced hers.

She didn’t expect this to happen…

Someone cleared their throat and Futaba and Goro separated, both panting heavily, staring at each other in wonder. Futaba blinked, her attention slowly snapping to her now angry client.

“I’d like a refund please.” The girl demanded. Futaba shoved the money into the girl’s chest.

“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.” Futaba glared. She was protective of her friends, and she was so grateful she was able to spare Goro from ill effects of a Love Potion. The girl huffed, slamming the door on her way out. Futaba stuck her tongue out at the closed door.

“Futaba, what the fuck man?!” Ryuji cried. Futaba turned to see her friends with varying expressions. Ryuji and Yusuke were gaping while Akira and Haru were trying not to laugh and Ann and Makoto were smirking deviously. Futaba’s face erupted into a bright blush.

“I-It’s not what it looks like! She was going to drug him!” she felt Goro’s chest vibrating with snickers, reaching up and cupping her face to turn her to face him. She blushed harder when she caught his smirk and heated gaze.

“So you thought that kissing me was the best solution instead of taking the cup?” Goro quirked an eyebrow and Futaba squeaked. The others were chuckling.

“We’ll let you handle this one, Goro.” Akira said.

“Yeah, just make sure to keep it PG though. Futaba is still innocent.” Ann teased.

“W-Wait! What do you guys mean?! W-What’s going on?” Futaba spluttered turning to them. Goro chuckled, drawing her attention back to him. His eyes glinted in amusement.

“You have no idea how cute you are right now.” Goro smirked. He leaned closer to her. “It makes me want to have you all to myself.”

“Annnnddddd that’s where we leave. See ya!” Ryuji bid them farewell as their friends all went upstairs to hang out. Futaba reached out for them.

“Wait! Don’t leave me!” Futaba cried, wanting to follow them, but Goro seemed to want her to suffer for he gripped her tighter, captivated by her.

“Don’t worry, Futaba. I don’t bite—much.” Goro’s grin was practically wolfish, and Futaba knew this guy was going to devour her whole.

“I suppose you’re not going to agree to forget this ever happened, are you?” Futaba groaned.

“Not happening. Sorry.” Goro told her, nuzzling into her neck. “You’re mine now. You’re going to have to deal.”

And Goro showed her exactly how she was his. Futaba wouldn’t ever admit to anyone else though it was enjoyable.

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Hope you guys enjoyed this short oneshot!

#goro akechi #akechi goro #sakura futaba #futaba sakura #futaba x goro #futaba x akechi #goro x futaba #akechi x futaba #persona 5 #p5 #persona #persona series #witch au #modern witch au #fluffy #cute #fluff #futago #aketaba

[shadowtarot]

(Thieves in Inaba) Run Yu run! Save your partner!

Thieves in Inaba Part 44

Brick walls become nothing but a blur in Yu’s vision as he runs though the long hallways of the dim castle. He had to find a room, any room that could connect to the wall his partner was pulled through. His heart beats fast as adrenaline puts his body on auto pilot.

After what felt like eternity to him, he finally finds a door. Kicking it open, he’s greeted by a sight worse then he could have anticipated. Yosuke is indeed there, but against a steel beam with chains tying him to it as if he was ready to be sacrificed in some sort of arcane rite. Behind the beam looms the Death Bringer, laughing once he makes eye contact with Narukami. 

“You made it so easy, Truth seeker. The last one required a lot of toying but all I had to do was take your closest friend and you come running like a panicked pup.” He snarls, a mocking tone inflecting his words. 

“Let him go..” Yu draws his sword as his expression becomes intense and serious. 

But as he tries to intimidate his friend’s captor, Death Bringer lowers the blade to line up perfectly with Yosuke’s neck. “While you Wild Cards are my main targets…I have no qualms with killing those who have aided. Make one more move and I will show you what true fear in humans looks like.” 

Yosuke struggles to get out of the chains, desperately trying to free himself to no avail. 

Yu lowers his sword, looking down to the floor. “What..do you want from me then?” 

“Yu, what the hell are you doing?! You’re not seriously giving in are you?!” Yosuke shouts. “Think man! We can figure out another-” 

“SILENCE.” The scythe is brought closer to his neck, with the blade only being a few inches away from making contact with his skin.

The spirit looks to Yu, smirking from under his hood. “If you wish for your friend to live, then all you must simply do is give in to the stone. Allow it to seek your punishment for the sin of clearing the fog of humanity.” 

Yu is silent. Accepting this would mean he would have to admit that the truth he fought for was all falsehoods. But even if it’s through clenched teeth, he’d be saving his best friend.

“Yu, don’t do it! Please!” Yosuke struggles even harder. He doesn’t want to be the reason he gets hurt. Or have the guilt of another death on his shoulders. But all he can do is watch…

Back with the rest of the group, they have seemed to have triggered a trap as spiked walls on either side of them start to close in. 

“Damnit Ryuji! You just had to flip that switch!” Chie bemoans. “You could have just…I don’t know…walked past it?” 

“Uh but who was the person who said to flip it? Oh that’s right, it was you. So don’t go blaming me for you dumbass idea!” Ryuji barks back. 

“You could have just said no, Sakomoto. It’s not hard..” Akechi shakes his head. “But more importantly, how does one stop these slow moving walls?”

“Ooh! Ooh! In The Legend of Gelda, you use a fire spell to burn away a spike trap in one dungeon! Maybe it’s like that?” Futaba tries. 

“I mean, these are wood..it’s worth a shot….” Junpei nods. “Hey Ann-chan, Yukio. You both gonna back me up?”

“We’ll both take this side, you take that right one.” Ann states. 

With that, the trio manage to burn away the spike trap to nothing but ashes. Ren brushes off some of the ashes on his coat before looking around. 

“Seems like that’s all the traps for now…and yet still no sign of either Yu or Yosuke.” Joker sighs. “Did we take a wrong turn?” 

Fuuka shakes her head. “We shouldn’t have. The only answer would be that the room shifts somehow but with three navigators one of us should have picked up on that by now…” 

“Unless the traps didn’t trigger for Yu since he’s probably the one our friend wants…” As Rise states this, the others look at eachother. 

Minato’s face furrows. “We need to hurry. Stay on your toes, and don’t touch anything suspicious without looking around you first.” 

“Right, so lets press on.” Akechi starts to move forward as if he’s suddenly leading the group….only to fall through a trap door almost instantly. 

Ryuji just stares at the trapdoor, unphased by it. “Oh noooo…Akechi fell in.” He states in a deadpan tone. “Let’s move on. I’m sure he can find his way out.” 

The group pushes on, now three members down from the start. They start testing the floors and walls as they progress. But it’s not long before they reach a crossroads. Futaba sighs and shakes her head.

“Hey so, remember when Fuuka said it might be impossible for the castle’s layout to be shifting? Turns out it is. Deathy is trying to make it hard for us to reach…somewhere. Unfortunately, since we’re at a crossroad, we need to split up.”

“But…didn’t we agree that doing that is risky?” Mishima points out. “But..I guess if we find out one of these paths is a dead end we can just try to go on the other one right?” 

Naoto shakes her head. “No. If he’s shifting the structure like he is, us backtracking would end up having us go somewhere totally different. Whichever path you decide to go on you’ll need to commit to.”

The group agrees. 

Minato looks at both pathways, thinking. “Ren, you lead one group down the right path while I lead the other down the left. We only have us two Wild Cards left, so doing it this way is safer.” 

“Agreed.” Ren looks among the people present and starts choosing people to go with them. 

Pretty soon the two groups head down the hallways, only to both find even more branching paths. Spitting once more, they soon find that the paths keep getting more and more narrow, until it can only fit one person. 

Teddie, emerging from his pathway…finds a door with faint pleas and apologies coming from the other side of it. “Is that…Yosuke?” The bear opens the door, to find Yosuke pleading a motionless Yu to wake up.

“Oh no!” Teddie darts to his friend’s side. “Don’t tell me he..” 

But all Yosuke can offer at first is a slow nod. “He..let himself be cursed just so I didn’t get killed. Damnit! If only I hadn’t been so stupid! …if only I had told him before he..” 

Teddie puts a hand on his shoulder. “You’re talking like he’s dead, Yosuke. He’s not. We just gotta wake him up! Just like Minato.”

“No you don’t get-….yeah, yeah you’re right. We just gotta wait for those other two right?” He sighs. “They need to hurry, this..black stone shit’s on a timer right?”

Yosuke looks to Yu…who’s eyes are covered in TV-like static..blinding him. 

#thieves in inaba #Persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 5 #investigation team #shadow operatives #phantom thieves #compendium #this one took longer to do then i thought it would

[ikesenhell]

Reunion

The Measurement of Time: Chapter 11 and the Finale. You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: This whole story does not make much sense without the context from To Honor And Protect! Please go back and read that before you proceed with TMOT. Tagging @ikemenprincessnaga at request. Izumi Oda belongs to her. Kaiea belongs to @boopbeepbopblarg

Only Izumi handled Mitsunari Ishida entering the barracks with any semblance of grace. Abbot instantly dropped and started reciting prayers. Date and Tokugawa shot to their feet in a mixture of awe and terror, Takeda toppled from her perch on the table, Aria froze, and Yukimura drew his sword before he really could grasp who stood in their doorway, shielding Kaiea with his body. 

“So we have a mage?” Izumi asked, sipping her tea.

“Of sorts.” Mitsunari smiled at them all. “But I’ll do my best.”

“His best?” Takeda sputtered. “You’re a god.” 

“No, just the ocean. Bit of a difference.”

Seiren ignored all of them and settled in at the table, unrolling a large blank piece of parchment. “We have a mission and very little time to plan. The machine has gone without charge long enough. We’re limited here. We’ve got to figure out how to get in and clear the place.”

“And do it without me losing my abilities,” Mitsunari pointed out, helping himself to the tea as if it were second nature. “I do need to be around the water extremely close to make that work.”

“I...” Aria cleared her throat and stepped forward. “I think I can help with that--provided we’re willing to cause a little destruction.”

Seiren narrowed her eyes, but Mitsunari just laughed. “You sound like your grandfather--Mitsuhide, that is. I’m certain it’s nothing we can’t try and solve later.”

Aria beamed quietly. “Alright then. Captain, let me suggest a few things.”

---

They wrest the well open with little resistance. Seiren inhaled deeply and flexed her hands. 

“Are we really ready? I’ve no doubt that it’ll try and seal us in again.”

“Bring it on,” Takeda answered. “We’re bringing the fight to it now.”

Date gave a simple thumbs up. Abbot double checked them all with his eyes and eventually granted his assent as well, and with that, Tokugawa hauled himself down the ladder first. The rest followed quickly after; Sasuke dropped wetly against the damp cobblestones, staring into the darkness. 

“Here.” Aria handed off the cannon her grandmother had built to Date. “You’re our best shot.”

He just nodded and checked it over, bracing himself between them and the darkness. They didn’t head that way first. Instead, Aria turned and motioned at Yukimura. “Shall we?”

“Got you.”

They half-jogged to the glass hallway. Yukimura unzipped a bag he’d brought and yanked out small explosives, arranging them along the edges of the glass. 

“We’ve got trouble!” Date called, charging up the gun. 

“Hell,” Aria muttered, producing flames in her hand. “It certainly didn’t wait for us this time, did it?”

Sure enough, the screaming wailed out of the darkness, hands and nails scraping ridges in stone. Date fired off the first shot into the belly of it, blinding light searing through a thousand shadowed mouths and burning them away--but more came. Aria launched volley after volley of flames and it barely dented the mass. 

“CLEAR!” Yukimura screamed, and dove for cover. 

The shatter was so loud Sasuke barely heard it; his ears rang with the roar and surge of the ocean filling the void, catching him up under his feet and sending him tumbling into Tokugawa. It only lasted a moment--then they dropped at once to the ground, the wall of water twisting away behind them. 

“Hi!” Mitsunari said brightly, a thousand lances of tide forming behind him. “I suggest you stay down.”

They obeyed. With an earth-rending wail it shredded around them, tearing apart the cloud of screaming shadows, the black tar of them seeping between their boots. The shadows tumbled back against the relentless onslaught, pouring back into the tunnel. 

“Alright.” Date hoisted himself to his feet, reshouldering the gun. “Let’s go.”

They pressed on through the underdepths. Aria sparked the fuse to the lights and watched as they rattled halfway to life, shadows swooping and spiraling in around them. Mitsunari formed a shield over them, water sloshing thick around their ankles as Date took shots off at the worst clusters. 

“We have to move!” Seiren commanded, motioning forward. “Let’s go!”

The black gates to the palace hung like a warning. They scraped and forced their way inside; Sasuke got a nasty slash over his cheek, Seiren’s braid was lopped in half, Tokugawa yelled in pain as something tried very hard to separate him from his shoulder, Yukimura narrowly evaded a lance of darkness through his chest and got a torn uniform for his trouble. The humming casing of the lock suspended before them. Aria rushed to it.

“Alright.” She fumbled over its contents, studying it. “Okay, Mitsunari, a question.”

“Yes?”

“This was enchanted, too. If I break it, the enchantment breaks. What am I going to break? Will it injure us?”

He backed up enough to take a good look at the device. Shadows broke against the swirling sphere of ocean water around him, beads of sweat and water rolling down his forehead. “It looks like a sand spell.”

“A sand spell?” Sasuke repeated.

“It’s slang for a time slower,” Aria answered, jiggling at the lock delicately. “Time was slowed in there for whatever reason. If we break it, it’ll bring time up to normal speed again--”

“Shit,” Izumi muttered, drawing her sword. “We’ve got company.”

The shadows parted, scattering to the winds as the machine staggered inside. Its orange lights were faint now, cables and cords pulsing with strain. It lifted the greatsword and swung it experimentally. 

It didn’t matter if it was low on power. It could still kill them all. 

“She’s been in there too long,” Abbot muttered, readying himself. “She doesn’t recognize who is an enemy.”

“If she’s alive at all,” Tokugawa answered, lifting his gun. “Aria, get that damn thing open!”

“Trying!”

The machine advanced. Izumi and Seiren dove to the side as the blade crashed through the marble floor, fragments of stone spraying them. Mitsunari swore but held the barrier. Date pointed the gun at her and thought better of it. 

“Got it!” The machine clattered to the ground. Aria didn’t bother trying to open the door herself; she pointed a fist at it and the ruined fragments of floor spiraled around her, forming into a massive ball of earth and smashing into its surface. It slammed open. The Nine charged in, looking for a higher ground away from the machine that pursued them--

“What the fuck?” Yukimura asked. 

“Oh my god,” Aria managed weakly. “Oh my god.”

A bright dome of light enveloped the center of the room. A thousand shadows swarmed its exterior, ravenous and enraged, desperate and hungry. 

In the center were two men. One had sandy brown hair. He lay slumped over the other man’s lap, breathing hard but still breathing nonetheless, blood running in thick rivers over his chest. The other--holding his partner, holding an iron staff, his closed eyes tense with concentration and effort--had long white hair that swirled over his back. 

The old insignia of the Nine burned on his uniform. 

“Go!” Tokugawa shouted, bringing them all back to themselves. They dove inside at the right moment; the greatsword shattered down once more. That caught the attention of the men inside. Mitsuhide Akechi lifted his head, eyes never moving, and the orb of light flickered ever so slightly. 

“Clear it, Mitsunari!” Seiren shouted. “Sasuke, come here!”

She didn’t need to order him twice. Mitsunari brought the wall of water into his hands and outward with such force that it nearly knocked him off his feet. Together, he and Seiren drew their swords, the light that glowed between their blades feeding directly from the dome of light behind them. The machine drew herself up to her full, terrifying height, the sword swirling in the air for a strike. 

“We can do this,” Seiren gasped, readying herself. “We can do this.”

“I love you,” Sasuke managed. 

She groped for his hand and squeezed it. The machine’s arm came crashing down as they lifted their swords. 

And the whole room went white. 

He barely had enough time to wrap himself around Seiren before they sailed through the air and smacked hard into the wall; he hissed with pain and clutched her tighter to him, water lapping against his boots and pants alike. When finally the room came back into focus, there were no more shadows. The black crystal gleamed anew, the machine halted in its footsteps, dazed and weaving.

Mitsunari lowered his arms and gazed into the dome. “Mitsuhide?”

“I’ll be damned.” The pale man managed a tired grin. “Took you long enough.”

“Is Hideyoshi alright?”

“No. He took a bit of a beating, but...” He smoothed his hands over the other man’s shoulders, rousing him with a gentle shake. “Hideyoshi. Dearest. Mitsunari, would you please do me one more favor?”

“Certainly.”

Aria staggered to her feet and stood by the edge of the sphere, eyes luminous. Mitsuhide hesitated only a moment and turned his head towards her. 

“Who all is here?”

“I’m...” Aria hesitated. “Aria Toyotomi-Akechi.”

Hideyoshi opened his eyes and squinted at her, his coppery gaze uneven. Despite that he smiled at her. “Oh wow.”

“Help me out here, dearest,” Mitsuhide urged quietly. “What does she look like?”

“Like us,” he managed thickly. “She looks like Kaito--and like you.”

Aria dragged her sleeve across her face and did her best to compose herself. “I always got told by my father that I looked like both Papa and Dad.”

“You do,” Hideyoshi answered. “You really do.”

Mitsunari fed his hand against the orb and stared at the machine. “Once you bring this down, what will happen?” 

“I don’t know,” Mitsuhide admitted. “I only held on this long to try and contain some of the darkness growing in here. Would you please--please--put that hunk of machinery in here?”

It took Tokugawa, Yukimura, and Date all trying their best, but eventually they got it inside the bubble. Unsteadily rising to his feet, Hideyoshi staggered over and clenched at the torso of the casing. 

“Let me help,” Mitsuhide murmured. 

Together they cracked it open. 

Inside was a woman. Her long, dark hair was flecked with silver, her face pale and unseeing. Hideyoshi fumbled at a cable and it disconnected. Burdened by gravity, she tumbled into their awaiting arms, blood running down her neck.

“Darling,” Hideyoshi managed, cupping one blood stained hand around her cheek. “My love. Are you there? Are you there? Can you hear me?”

For a long moment the Nine held their breath. It seemed so far fetched. She’d spent so long inside, and yet--

Her eyes fluttered open. 

“Hideyoshi,” she murmured. “Mitsuhide.”

The white-haired man just dipped his head and clutched her hand, hot tears dripping from his closed eyes. Hideyoshi scooped the three of them together and used all of his remaining strength to clench them tight, kissing each of them over and over and over again. Aria buried her face in her hands as Takeda slipped to her side, cradling her. 

“I love you,” the engineer whispered. “I love you both so much.”

“And I, you,” Mitsuhide whispered.

“Forever and always,” Hideyoshi finished for them. Blinking away hot tears of his own, he propped her up and motioned to Aria. “Look at our beautiful granddaughter.”

Their eyes met. Aria did her best to smile. The woman returned it.

“You look so much like Kaito.”

“I’ve been told,” Aria managed with a strangled laugh. 

Mitsunari eyed the dome. “This won’t last much longer.”

“I know.” Mitsuhide grunted and adjusted. “My old friend. Have any suggestions for me?”

“Nothing... that would bring you back to Kaito.” He sighed. “But I can bring you to join the rest of the Original Nine.”

“Nobunaga will be pissed at me,” Hideyoshi half-laughed. “But that’s where we belong.”

“At least then they can’t say we’re MIA,” Mitsuhide drawled. “I think that’s for the best.”

“Please.” Aria gasped, setting her hands against the dome. “What should I tell Dad?”

“Tell him...” The Engineer paused a long, long time before answering. “Tell our sons we love them. Gin, Saburo, Kaito--if they don’t live, tell their graves I’ll be with them soon. And I love you, too, dearest.”

Mitsunari lifted his hands. “Are you ready?”

Mitsuhide snickered, allowing a snaky grin that looked so much like Aria’s that Sasuke knew this was the real thing. “No. But we don’t have a choice, do we?”

No more words. The trio in the center huddled tight together, buoyed by love, love, love infinite, love that survived, and Mitsunari beckoned the water off the floor. It surged into the room and swirled around them all, a massive typhoon that looked like the abyss and the pathway to heaven all in one. Aria clutched at her girlfriend and sobbed aloud. Hideyoshi gazed around them and locked eyes with Izumi and Seiren, unspoken recognition lighting there. 

“Permission to leave, Captain?” Hideyoshi asked, an amused smile playing at his lips.

Seiren and Izumi stepped to attention, clasping their hands to their chest. 

“Permission granted.” Seiren said

The water surged in around the dome. It shone through the water like a thousand stars, and finally--finally--it was gone. 

And so were they. All they left behind was a trio of wedding bands linked on the floor. 

---

It took ages to clean up the glass from the tunnel. Mitsunari held back the ocean until the City filled in the gaps again. The light system was renewed and adjusted, the tunnels cleaned, and Kaiea clapped her hands as she appeared after a long day of cataloging artifacts. 

“Any trouble?” Seiren asked, balancing her sword in her hands.

“None.” She beamed at them as Yukimura dredged himself from the well behind her. He’d volunteered for guard duty below (though they all knew it was strictly out of fear for her, not out of any particular interest in remaining underground). “We could uncover artifacts dating back thousands of years. It’s an incredible find.”

“Great.” Seiren hummed to herself. “Good.”

The team pattered away, carrying crates of research and objects between them. Sasuke shifted against her arm. 

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Would you take me to Kenshin’s grave?”

They went on a sunny day. She wore a lovely dress the color of the darkest tides, and he made sure to wear his dress uniform as polished as he could make it. She quirked her mouth at him but didn’t ask. In the palace gardens, they gathered around the graves of five of the nine and placed flowers on his. 

“Hi, Uncle,” she murmured, kneeling before it. “I brought Sasuke. I’m seeing him.”

Reverently, Sasuke bowed before the slab of marble, settling onto his knees. “Sir, it’s an honor. And I’d like to ask your blessing to see your grand-niece.”

Seiren stared but didn’t stop him. He continued, nervous and self-conscious. “I love her, Sir. I know you told her once that anyone would have to best her in combat first, but--you should see her with a sword. I don’t think anyone could--and I love that about her.” Clearing his throat, he pressed on. “She’s intelligent and sharp. She commands a room. And I swear that I will honor her the way she deserves to be--the way that you honored her, and your wife. The way that Toyotomi-Akechis honored one another. If you would let me, I would be the most honored man in this world.”

“Sasuke,” Seiren whispered, her eyes glistening. “I love you.”

They shared a kiss there, on the top of the dark cliffs overlooking the vast ocean. Far, far off in the distance, Mitsunari Ishida took a deep breath and smiled at the tides around him. 

Then he surged downward once more to rejoin his love.

#Ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen sasuke #sasuke sarutobi #female!uesugi #captain uesugi #seiren uesugi #Mitsunari Ishida #Ikesen Mitsunari #Ikesen fantasy AU #TMOT #Reunion #The Measurement of Time #my writing #ikesen descendants #Boopbeepbopblarg's Kaiea #Naga's Izumi Oda #fluff #angst #mage mitsunari #ocean mitsunari #violence tw #blood tw

[personas-against-antis]

My experience with anti-ism and back

Inspired by @huntypastellance's interviews with ex-antis, I decided to post my own story of how I became an anti and how I got out.

My inbox and messages are open in case anyone has any questions or wants to say anything.

Apologies for any typos, my typing is not the greatest.

Names have been changed to protect my friends’ privacy and to prevent certain antis mentioned from coming after me again.

Where It All Started

So back in middle school I fell in love with an anime called Hetalia, about the interactions between anthropomorphized versions of various countries. I had been in fandom for a while (my first big fandom was Sonic, but that was before antis went mainstream), and I was a pretty big follower of "don't like, don't read/look". When I joined, I immediately latched on to the ship AmeCan, or America/Canada.

They were cute and it was my OTP for a long time. The only problem with AmeCan is that, by a large majority of the fandom, America and Canada were considered brothers. I personally didn't see them that way, I saw them as adopted brothers at most, and I was always pretty squicked out by shippy fanfics that depicted them as biological brothers. The ship itself was still pretty big in that fandom, so I ignored the haters and immersed myself in fanart and fanfic.

I met a girl at my school (let's call her Duchess) who also liked Hetalia and we quickly hit it off. We soon asked what each other's OTPs were.

Me: Oh, I ship AmeCan.

Duchess: ...

Me: What is it?

Duchess: You realize they're brothers, right?

Me: Oh, I don't see them that way because [insert reasoning that I don't want to have to explain to non-Hetalians, just know that I explained that I didn't see them as brothers.]

Duchess: But it's canon. They canonly see each other as brothers.

Me: Oh...

In hindsight, I probably should have asked what she meant by “it’s canon”. Either way, I began to drift away from AmeCan due to lack of interest, and towards other ships (Romerica and AmeBela), and then to other fandoms. She still remained one of my closest friends.

Down The Rabbit Hole

I began to get really into kawaii culture and browsed the tags pretty regularly. Over time, I came across CG/L content. It squicked me out at first, but due to some sort of bile fascination, I began browsing CG/L blogs and began learning about that subculture. I actually enjoyed it quite a lot, but I knew that it would be inappropriate for someone my age (around 13-14 years old) to participate in kink, so I kept my distance and admired it from afar.

Soon, Duchess brought it up at lunch.

Duchess: I really hate seeing DDGL stuff everywhere.

Me: Haha, yeah...

Duchess: I mean, It's practically pedophilia!

Me: Mhm...

That's what I had thought at first too, before researching it. But she kept talking about it.

Duchess: They're sexualizing children, and children's toys! It's so gross! I actually made a blog against it.

Me: Whoa, really?

Duchess showed me her anti-CGL blog and I quickly followed it because she was my friend, and slowly began to follow other anti-DDLG blogs as well, even making my own: rise-against-ddlg. I took it down due to lack of interest, but antis had already grown on tumblr, and I was torn between my "don't like, don't look" policy, and wanting to "help" survivors. So outwardly, I became an anti, while guiltily reading "problematic" fic and playing "problematic" games in secret.

One such problematic game was Yandere Simulator, and I began to browse those tags too, when I discovered another anti blog, this time against Yandere Simulator and Alex Mahan, a.k.a. Yandere Dev. I learned he was fairly homophobic, sexist, and transphobic, especially in his own private chatroom, and began to idolize that anti blog. Suddenly, they released an invitation to a Skype group chat. Eager to meet my heroes, I quickly applied and was approved.

The Group Chat Incident

I loved that chat. It started with 15 people, but slowly trickled down to nine, including myself. I found myself isolating myself away from my real life friends and family, too focused on the group chat, as they made dropping out of high school and staying online all day sound cool. I kissed up to them, desperate to be seen as a good person. But, soon, I began to question myself and the group. The mods were very against "problematic" content, like Killing Stalking, and NSFW depictions of minors, but were also quick to draw NSFW of minors (specifically Budo and Senpai from YS). I introduced them tot he game Boyfriend To Death, and one of them quickly latched on to the character of Rire, who brutally rapes the protagonist in game, despite them being against rape. The main mod even introduced the group to a game called Artificial Academy 2, in which you can rape others and be raped.

...There was a lot of rape and NSFW in that chat.

But, there was also a hierachy. At the top were the two main mods of that YS blog, Mod H and Mod J. Joining them at the top was a very cool person and a good artist who acted very much like an older sibling to all of us, Member M. Then, there were three more people who tended to kiss Mod H, Mod J, and Member M's asses, and at the bottom was me, my friend Foam, and Member C. Mod H was the ruler of that chat. Anything they said, went, and if you disagreed, they'd suddenly play victim, manipulating and gaslighting you into apologizing. They loved Dragon Age, and now that game has been forever tainted for me, considering how much they shoved it down my throat. They would also tease me and my interest in Persona 5 (saying that the protagonist looked like The Onceler, subsequently calling me a "Onceler Fucker" for finding him attractive, along with making fun of when my tongue slipped and pronounced "Goro" as "Gort"), only stopping when I had Foam address the group to tell them to stop. There was a livestream that I was really excited for, talking about it since it was announced and they seemed hyped for me as well. Only when I placed a rabb.it link in the chat so we could all watch, only Member C showed up. When I returned to that chat, they were watching Yuri On Ice, and they wouldn't even let me talk about my livestream.

During that time period, I created a group chat for me, Foam, and another internet friend I will call Emilia. I though Foam and Emilia would get along really well, so i formed a Skype chat with them, and allowed them to talk. Slowly though, me and Foam began to use that chat to bitch about the group chat behind their backs, because we were terrified of the backlash if we tried to criticize them to their faces, due to Mod H's tactics of avoiding conflict. We soon added Member C to the chat as well, after they were constantly getting dogpiled by the rest of the chat.

That December, the Bode meme was in full swing and Foam mentioned in the group chat that he didn't get it. The group chat immediately began to make fun of him and I, sick of letting them control our lives, stood up for him. The group chat just continued to dogpile and we continued to try and fight until Mod H eventually left the chat, in one of their methods to get us to apologize to them. I was feeling overwhelmed and also left, and Foam tried to surrender and tell the chat to stop, but they wouldn't let up and he left too. Member C was the only member we remained on good terms with who was still in the group chat.

I made a post on my blog saying that i didn't want to interact with those people anymore and they got mad and began to try and message me. I eventually messaged an official statement, citing their abuse of me and Foam, and blocked all of them across social media.

They created a fake blog to get around the block, and I was dumb enough to fall for it.

Member C even turned on us, revealing me and Foam's messages with her and claiming we were abusing and bullying them. Suffice to say, I cut off all contact with Member C and changed my main blog's URL.

I was harassed and stalked and I carried that fear of them looking at my blog for a long time. I still worry about it sometimes.

The worst part, in my opinion, was that I changed my own name that I had chosen for myself because it had become a trigger for me hearing them say it so many times. And I really, really loved that name.

There was so much hypocrisy, so much fear in that chat. Now, looking back, I wished I had never joined, but in those months after I left...I felt empty inside. Aimless.

Out of curiosity, I looked up cult behaviors, and that chat hit nearly every single one. It's scary looking back on it. Even writing this, over a year after I left, my heart hurts.

But even leaving a cultish group chat didn't knock me out of anti-ism.

Villain Ships and Past Revelations

Remember how I mentioned that I love Persona 5? Well, I ship a ship called ShuAke, which a very loud subset of people claim is abusive.

Spoilers for Persona 5 up ahead.

ShuAke is a ship between the protagonist (shujinko in Japanese, which is where the "shu" comes from) and Goro Akechi. I shipped ShuAke since before Goro's name was announced, when all we knew was his design. Goro turned out to be a detective hunting the Phantom Thieves, the protagonist's group. The cat and mouse aesthetic really suited my fancy, with the protagonist's thief alter ego, Joker, seducing the naive Detective Prince. Swoon.

Of course, the ship shattered when the game was released in Japan and it turns out Goro tried to kill the protagonist, was working for the bad guy, and betrayed the whole group.

I was shocked and essentially went through the five stages of grief. I was torn between abandoning the "abusive" ship and evil character...or ignoring the haters and shipping it anyway. After way too much debate, I chose the latter and stuck with it.

The anti-ism died down quickly due to a lot of the fandom hibernating until the English release, and I happily shipped ShuAke and supported Goro Akechi with little objection. Even when the game was released in English, I stood my ground and even argued in support of Goro with anons.

And yet, I still considered myself an anti.

Late May of last year, some repressed memories came to light. I had been sexually abused by a close family member and a few girls at camp when I was younger, with other fragmented and questionable memories in my brain. It put my past into light, as I had also had a self destructive habit of attempting to seduce older men online, due to low self esteem. That was not a fun week for me, and I found myself diving into dark fic, particularly rape fic, in order to make sense of it all. I even wrote some in an effort to just get it out of my brain.

And it worked. It was really therapeutic for me.

And yet...

I still considered myself an anti. Every word I read or wrote was mixed with guilt over what I was doing, even though it worked. While I'm still a sexual abuse survivor, as I always will be, I'm much more well-adjusted by participating in those dark activities, rather than wallowing in self pity and slipping into a depression, like my old group chat would have expected me to do.

I dropped anti-ism later, with the help of one blog.

Back to "DL,DR"

The blog @anti-anti-survivor was recommended to me, and anti!me, looking for a laugh, clicked on it...and soon found that pretty much everything they said made sense to me. I saw Mod h in the people they argued with, Member C in the people they called out...and I realized that I had never been an anti, just hiding behind that label.

I sent an anonymous message to them (though I guess it isn't so anonymous anymore, ha), thanking them for opening my mind to it, and created my own anti-anti blog. I realize I'm not very active on here, but, well, I'm lazy and I'm more of a reader than anything else.

And of course, there was another problem.

Antis are fucking everywhere.

I'm terrified of posting pro-shipping stuff on my main, and I'm terrified of admitting I like problematic ships. I'm in a Discord server that keeps spouting anti-kink and anti-ship stuff, and I have to keep my mouth shut or risk being banned, just because most of the time they're really nice. Duchess even messaged me one day, absolutely shocked that I admitted to shipping Shidge.

I'm happy now that I don't have to feel that guilt but, reading what antis do and then finding out that people I hang out with are antis...it's horrifying. I'm not a confrontational person. I never have been. But I'm sick of rolling over and accepting what everyone else deems is problematic fiction.

I'm mentally ill, a sexual abuse survivor, and dark fic and dark shipping helps me cope.

Deal with it.

#pro shipping #anti anti testimony

[stuffandsundry]

Lemme preface this with a big hello there! I didn’t actually expect anyone to reply to this post, and so comprehensively either, haha!

dynamojacks replied to your post: Alt. P5 Justice Confidant

Hrrrrrmm. Can’t say I agree with all of this. It’s not like ‘being foil to the protag’ is the flaw with the interaction - or characterisation, of all things - it’s mostly the way said interaction is framed. Also, he’s less of a direct foil to him and more an 'equal and opposite’. Goro isn’t supposed to relate to the protag entirely, that’s kind of the point. He envies him. But he’s on his level, so to speak. It’s that aspect that draws him to him.

I think we’re using foil in a two different ways here. I use it as shorthand for “we, as third parties to this story, are supposed to compare and contrast these characters”. So, yeah, he’s set up as an equal and opposite you are totally correct there, but Goro aint the one relating to the protag, we as the audience are the ones comparing them. And that’s when problems arise, because quite a bit about the protag is so open to interpretation.

He also kind of KNOWS he’s special because he’s.. seen him, and Morgana, in the Metaverse (see: pancakes ‘gaffe’). It’s not just a one-sided perception, he’s absolutely right and this is a big fuck-off hint that he’s a wildcard in hindsight.

yo what seriously? i thought that the pancakes thing happened in the hallway of the TV studio how the hell did i misremember that badly holy shit

I agree that this should have been dealt with better, and that we needed more interaction with the PT to build a collective bond. A WHOLE, WHOLE lot more. I live and breathe any writings that bring them all together, like really. But to narrow the issue down to the protag being foil just seems flimsy. They ARE fated rivals per se and for good reason, it’s just that this aspect was shafted to buggery when it got down to it.

It’s not protag being foil that’s the problem, it’s “protag is the foil, focused on almost exclusively to the detriment of any meaningful interaction with the rest of the cast.” like, yeah, it does work, to a point. but it also could be a lot better, by giving the others a chance to shine.

The ‘god’s game’ apparently meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. That was exceptionally bad writing. To build up shit like that, but for Goro’s role as wild card to mean next to zilch.

Oh yeah, that resolution was very much so missing, which is a massive pity. Like you said, the whole fated rivals chosen to duke it out by god is a pretty interesting concept. I’m interested to know more about why you think that Goro’s role as a Wild Card mean zilch, though. Personally, I’ve been looking at it as: “Goro did had the potential to choose many different paths that could shape the world around him, signified by the Wild Card, but he locked himself very quickly into one path where he was simply being used as a tool by Shido. This, in combination with him holding everyone at arms length, meant that he didn’t form any significant bonds either aside from the real fucked up one with Shido, and so he inadvertently crippled his own Wild Card ability from the beginning” Actually, on that note, maybe he couldn’t have formed confidants. Whenever you initiate a Confidant in-game, it’s Lavenza’s voice that you hear, not Caroline + Justine. Would Lavenza have reached out to Akechi? Hmmm...

Also regarding Goro and fame, he’s not as hung up on it as Ryuji is/was, not NEARLY as much. One, mistranslation (not ‘public image’ or 'celebrity’, but 'reputation with adults’ and 'charisma’), and two, he knows his fame is fickle and dangerous in itself, having lived it for long enough. Ryuji romanticises it, Goro does not. Goro resents that those people do not know him for who he is, Ryuji thinks that fame will make him beloved.

Yeah!!!! This right here!!! This is a great contrast to have, they’d be amazing foils!! Ryuji and Goro are practically complete opposites, but they also share a lot of similarities too despite that. I spent like 5 min on this section the first time, so these are just the things that instantly popped into my head, but you could also draw parallels btwn the fact that Ryuji’s dad being in his life made it worse, while Goro’s being absent made his worse, or they way that Ryuji always had his mother with him vs Goro who’s mother left him alone, or the way that Ryuji is very bluntly honest about everything vs Goro who tries to keep everything hidden behind a veneer of politeness, or public perception of ryuji as a no good thug even if he honestly just wants to do the right thing vs the perception of goro as the person who would uphold justice/stop the breakdowns even if he was the very same person who was causing them, but DESPITE ALL THIS CONTRAST, ryuji is one of the most empathetic members of the team and absolutely would have tried to help Goro if he’d only known sooner what kinda trouble he was in (re: first impressions of makoto as a prick vs jumping in front of a car in order to rescue her)

(Speaking of Makoto, she’s absolutely the person that has the most parallels to Goro, and she should have been his rival. Both joined the team through some form of blackmail, both have incredible pressure but on them by the adults in their lives, both very similar characters vis-à-vis approaches to life in general, actually wait one second i have a quote from a friend on this.... “But I think Makoto works really well in terms of how they’re narratively set up as opposites? idk, like Makoto’s approach to subterfuge is to orchestrate the people around her while Akechi’s approach to subterfuge is to manipulate the people around him, Makoto’s impulsivity means she can be prone to direct confrontation while Akechi is on guard until he’s literally right at the breaking point, I just think…. it would’ve been so much more interesting to explore more of this than putting the burden on protag to carry Akechi Interest”)

and oh god im babbling sorry I HAVE OPINIONS

As for Yusuke? Madarame’s exploiting of his talent to his own ends (check), Yusuke wanting to please him but also trapped and nigh desperate to leave (check), Madarame being essentially responsible for his mother’s death (check), Yusuke having to rely on him to survive, for roof over head (check), and would be ruined, and even die one way or another if he tried to escape (check, check, and double check).                                                                      A comment Yusuke makes in Okumura’s Palace is extremely telling- about how someone who is oppressed will ‘desire for it’ (paraphrase). What’s even more telling, is when Yusuke said about Goro, quote: 'had I not met you all, I would have turned out like him as well’.   Haru? They’re both puppets to their fathers. Both are manipulated for the sake of political goals. Both are actually sweet by nature- at least, not ruthless, and really have to be pushed to be (SIU Director’s comments about the plot to FRAME the PTs as being ‘too brutal’… imagine how much more actually KILLING would be..). And both started out with a naive(ish), idealistic core, if Robin Hood and his fixation on Featherman R is anything to go by.

Eyyyyyyyyy this is some pretty hella meta, kudos to you. Like yeah!!!! YEAH!!!!!!! GORO AND PHANTOM THIEVES INTERACTIONS.... THERES THE POTENTIAL FOR SOME REAL MEATY, REAL GOOD STUFF IN HERE....GIVE US MORE OF THAT PLEASE...

And part of the reason why opinion changed per se, was realising just how flimsy Goro’s own resolve was, and how vulnerable. He wasn’t hell bent on bringing disaster, he was clinging on to straws in desperation. Ryuji’s comment, urging him to realise that he was his own person, makes this much clear. Their ire was more focused on Shido at this point. Still, they did not really forgive Goro, and made this much VERY clear. In any event, the last point might have been down to cultural differences. I’m.. not sure, but to those who understood this scene, it didn’t come ‘out of nowhere’, so you can’t necessarily say that’s a writing flaw on it’s own.    

Mmmm, sorry if I was unclear, but the two times I used ‘out of nowhere in this post were in regards to how i dislike goro approaching protag with little prior warning? So.... im not quite sure what you’re trying to say here. Out of nowhere is too strong of a term to use for this scenario, so if its a thing I’ve said someplace else in regards to the last scene then sorry, I’ll clarify now. It’s not out of nowhere, however, it stands in stark contrast to the entire team’s opinions of Akechi up until this point. Not necessarily a terrible, awful choice, but it is certainly jarring in a way that is completely avoidable. Which, again, brings me back to “give Goro and the other PT a larger share of attention instead of focusing on Protag”. Sae’s Palace would have been a perfect place for Goro’s facade to slip a little bit, and give the rest of the team a little bit of an idea of how he’s like when he’s not constantly on guard. Instead, Sae’s Palace focuses on setting Goro up as smart which............. he’s a teen detective that works with the police. We know that he’s smart already. We should have gotten more characterization in there instead! Giving us some form of transition, like, “he’s an enemy of the Phantom Thieves” -> “hmm, there seem to be some circumstances that we can relate to that made him the way he is now” -> “we understand why you did the things you did. we still can’t agree with it, but we know now.” ...Granted, the reason that I think of it as an abrupt about face could have been due to the face that they never mention Goro again after his battle. A short scene after Shido’s Palace had been cleared to look back on the impact that Goro had had on the PT would have been a great help.

thank you for your thoughts! c:

#dynamojacks #long post #p5 spoilers #sundrywritings;

[lokiarsene]

A Bird in Need of Grounding - Akeshu.

Rating: T (brief descriptions of panic attacks/anxiety, PDA, cursing) Summary: Goro doesn’t consider himself the best person to reach out to in times of need, but for Akira he’ll make an immediate exception. (Soundtrack was just Imagine Dragons’ “Monster” on loop)

Notes: Obviously indulgent fic is indulgent, but I needed some hurt/comfort, and figured I’d take it out on these two. But I was tired of Goro being the miserable one in my fics, so I figured I’d explore an oft overlooked aspect of Joker’s personality. People who dedicate so much of their time and energy into helping others are in danger of falling apart when it comes to taking care of themselves (hello, I know this through experience), so--here you go.

Also on AO3 if you’d prefer.

Goro felt his phone buzzing away like a hornet in his pocket. His brain immediately took a long leap, bypassing guesswork, and started building up little safe houses of assumptions.

It’s nothing important.

And it probably wasn’t. It couldn’t be Sae—they had spoken last night, and she had mentioned something about afternoon meetings that would take up her time well up through the evening. It couldn’t be Shido. He was busy going on street tours, shouting his policies to any rapt, eager crowd that would hear him. It was a wonder he’d have any voice left once all that was through, but the man was gifted with a preternatural fire. A burning in his heart and mind that refused to let a little thing like simple weakness drag him down.

And… that was it. The full extent of his call list. Pitifully small, all things considered.

So naturally he took his time in answering the call. Even considered ignoring it totally, letting the voicemail pick up what was bound to be a wrong number, or some kind of scammer who got through to hassle him about credit debt he didn’t have.

It’s nothing important. And yet, something tugged at the edge of his thoughts, insistent, incessant, pulling hard on the sharp, nagging teeth of his hope. But what if it is? Important.

With his lips pressed tight against the breath he needed to take, Goro dug his phone out of his pocket and peered at the screen. He didn’t recognize the name or the number—but still, he took a chance. His hope demanded it.

“Hello?”

“Akechi-kun? It’s Akira.” A pause. “Kurusu.”

“Oh? Hello.” Goro cleared his throat. His voice was getting too frayed, too weak. He looked at his empty hand, watched it shake from tip to wrist, and curled it up into a protective fist. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to call.”

Akira laughed. It was a sharp sound, lopsided, uneven. Goro frowned to hear it. There wasn’t any joy in the noise at all.

“Nobody ever expects me to call them,” he said, although that didn’t explain the laugh. It didn’t explain anything. It only made Goro want to probe deeper.

“I consider it a nice surprise, if that means anything,” Goro said.

“Akechi-kun—Goro.” Akira struggled to speak, was stumbling over the words and the distance demanded by formality. “Can I see you for a little bit? Right now? Unless you’re busy.”

Goro stared around at his empty apartment. Stark white, spartan bare, meticulously clean. The only thing he had left to do for the day was talk himself out of going to Leblanc yet again, and yet here Akira was, giving him a perfect excuse to go against even that.

“I’m not busy at all. Are you all right?”

“No, no I’m really not, but I’ll try not to be too obvious about it.” Akira’s voice picked up speed, each word crashing into the ends of the one before it, like a trainwreck. Goro tensed up at the word, at the image, at the memory. Don’t think about that right now. It was easy, too easy, to overlook that when Akira was on the line, clearly in need although Goro couldn’t quite figure out why.

His lips pressed down tight on instinct, trapping more words inside. “Has something happened?”

“Something is always happening to me.”

“You and everyone else in the world.” Goro flexed his free hand and took a breath. Strong, steady, grounding. It made his chest ache. “Where are you right now?”

“Heading towards the underground mall in Shibuya.”

“I’ll meet you there. Sit tight.”

“Thank you,” Akira breathed, his words like smoke—thin, weightless, desperate. “Thank you.”

  It didn’t take long for Goro to get to Akira, nor to find him. All he had to do was look for the tall, gangly boy in a Shujin uniform with ridiculously oversized glasses and messy hair. It was like a beacon, drawing the eye in and making your attention focus hard, riveted.

Or is that just me? No one else seemed to stare at Akira with the same intensity and razor-keen focus, and that was an issue Goro knew he’d have to tackle at some point, perhaps late at night with only himself and a nagging, scraping need for company. But he didn’t have to get into that now, yes? Not in public, surely.

He took a quick look around. The other people in the mall were going about their average day, muttering to their friends or else keeping their eyes riveted to the floor, their faces slack, blank, lifeless. Akira was leaning against the wall in front of the flower shop, one shoulder hunched up to brace himself against the wall, the other sinking low, slack, limp.

Goro watched as Akira kept kicking the ground in an uneven rhythm, matching the beat to a song in his head—or perhaps he was just nervous. Akira was an uncommonly fidgety person, always moving, always touching something—the back of his neck, his phone, twirling pencils, testing his grip on his backpack. At first, Goro thought the boy just had too much energy to burn, but now he wondered if it weren’t something worse than that, like warning signs or the stark red countdown on a clock before the fuse ignites.

Quite simply, the other boy looked stressed out—worse than stressed, he looked strung out, unraveling at the seams, every knot and cord and thread that made up his person now pulled past its limit and fraying down to its threadbare essentials. Akira’s eyes were hollowed and dull, and his jaw was clenched tight as if he were afraid to even breathe for the air he so clearly needed.

Goro’s stomach dipped low and twisted with a surge of guilt. What the hell am I supposed to do about this? Walking over to him could work, for a start. Strike up some small talk, maybe carve out a safe, quiet little space for them to breathe in before the panic spilled over—as long as Akira was willing. Yes, that sounded like the right thing to do, if not the only thing.

“I hope you weren’t waiting long,” Goro said when he was close enough to be heard.

Akira’s eyes swung up from the ground and pinned their gaze to Goro’s face. “I didn’t notice,” he said, his teeth half clenched. “It’s fine. It’s not a problem. I don’t mind.” The words were fired off quickly, as if Akira wanted to get rid of them. And sure enough, Goro watched as Akira turned his head briefly to the side and snapped his mouth shut again, his jaw clenched tight like a trap, as if these movements could rein in what was coming quickly undone inside.

This wasn’t an assumption. Or rather, it was, but it was a safe assumption, rather than a baseless, rude projection, because Goro knew all the signs of a panicked mind trying desperately to free itself from itself. He knew from experience, had become something of a veteran of his own tangled up panic and anxieties, like every thought was trying to walk through tripwire. Had watched himself go through all these same tense, wound up motions in the mirror, watching as his face shifted in ripples and twists as he succumbed to every trap and trick and catching, clawing thought that pulled him down deeper into worries and misery.

You look as bad as I alway try not to feel, Goro thought, but he knew better than to say such a thing here, now, to Akira of all people. His heart let out a low, burning throb, like the sting of a wound trying to heal. The last person he’d ever want to see suffer exactly how he felt was the boy standing before him right now. But trying to tear that thought of his mind was too difficult, and to lay it out in words was an even weightier task that Goro hadn’t quite figured out how to do.

Goro watched the other boy’s mouth, noting the way the lips pressed tight, and the oppressive, rigid flex of muscle that kept his jaw almost naturally wired in place. It looked about as bad as it always felt, and a pang of sympathy pain resonated through Goro’s face as he cleared his throat and tried again to speak.

“I’m here right now. I’m here, and I’m listening.” Goro waited for Akira to look at him before he moved, just a few steps closer in, so the two of them could whisper if they had to. No one around them noticed; no one was even looking. That was in itself a blessing and a curse. Hiding pain in plain sight was the worst kind of talent to have. “But if we’re going to talk, then I’m going to need you to do something.”

“Everyone always needs me to do something,” Akira spat out, but there was no heat to the word, no real anger, just something limp and harsh and heavy. His smirk was too wide, his eyes still too dull, and his words trembled, walking out of his mouth on legs that were uncertain of the weight they carried or their ability to bear the burden. “Everyone’s always asking me to do shit for them.”

“Yes, but that’s different from this,” Goro said, keeping his voice level and his eyes focused. His gaze didn’t move once from Akira’s face. He would be steady and true, even if Akira couldn’t be.

“How? What is it? Just tell me.”

“I need you to breathe. Slowly. Deep.”

“I am breathing.”

“And you’re choking on it.”

Akira scowled, his eyebrows folding down. “What?”

“I can hear you,” Goro said. “I can hear you, and it’s obviously difficult for you right now. So try something else. Something small and easy. But don’t do it because I asked you—do it for you.”

Goro watched as the words cast their magic on the other boy’s face. His jaw unclenched, and his lips, once pressed down so thin and tight, gave way to a small, surprised o. It didn’t last long, but it was long enough to make a difference—long enough for some air to get in. Goro listened to Akira take in a deep, shaky breath and felt his own lungs flood with life just the same.

“There’s so much of the world,” Goro heard himself say. The words came spilling out of a quiet corner of his mind, a place that he had long since tucked away and didn’t let out except in his weakest, most private moments. But standing here, looking into Akira’s eyes, listening to him struggle to do something so simple and necessary as breathing, gave him… not the courage, but the need. The need to speak from a place deeper than the heart. “There’s so much of the world that it’s almost suffocating, isn’t it? There’s so much to think about, to face, to stare down and deal with each and every day, and there’s only so much of you to put up against all that.”

Akira nodded slowly, tearfully. Goro checked the urge to reach out and wipe the tears away. “I can’t—settle in. I can’t fit or twist myself down to make myself safe. That’s how it feels and no I can’t explain it so don’t ask. Don’t try.”

After a shaky, quick breath, Akira continued. “It’s like having teeth in my head, but the teeth are my head, or maybe they’re the thoughts inside it, and I am both the animal caught in a trap and the trap itself, tearing myself apart and having only myself to blame. I’m doing it all to myself and I don’t—I’m not—I’m not trying to. I don’t mean it, but there it is, the blood’s on my hands and it’s my own blood, and I am both the murderer and the weapon and—”

Akira’s words were still shaking, but at least he was breathing, at least he was speaking. “And yet all the fucking time, every fucking day, I have to shove all that aside and let everyone else work their problems out on me. Me.” He laughed, and each note of the sound was like a thud of a stone striking a pond and sinking down deeper to drown. “I’m supposed to help put them all back together, and no one stops to wonder if they should return the fucking favor.”

Lightning quick, Akira reached out and placed his hands on Goro’s shoulders, squeezing tight. Without thinking, acting only on instinct, Goro planted his feet on the floor and withstood the other boy’s weight. There was a need in those hands, a need and something deeper, raw, aching and open, bleeding honesty and the pure terror of vulnerability.

“Why did you come here?” Akira demanded, his eyes sharp and glinting like a knife.

Goro kept his voice steady. “Because you called me. You asked to see me.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s all there is to it,” Goro said. “We might be new acquaintances, but that doesn’t mean I’d ignore a cry for help when I hear it.”

Akira studied him, his dark eyes shifting across Goro’s own gaze in quick, nervous shifts, like a bird in need of grounding. Then, with a concentrated effort, his eyes trailed slowly down, lingering on Goro’s mouth.

They stayed that way for a long trail of seconds, seconds of silence that then bled out into a minute. Still, no one looked at them, no one stopped to stare or whisper beneath their hands. They were safe, hiding out in the open where no one thought to look.

The knot in Goro’s stomach and the pain in his chest merged to meet, and in the joining, something… strange begin to blossom. Something warm and heavy, as if honey were a mood that could spread through the chest and coat every nerve along the way. Goro watched as something similar unraveled in Akira’s eyes. It was a different kind of undoing: this was softer, gentle, almost hypnotic. His gaze, once so sharp and bared, shifted gently, so gently, becoming instead a look that searched and sought.

The suspense of the moment was terrible. Goro hoped it would last.

“I’m not doing this to work a favor out of you later,” he said, hating to break the silence, but knowing the words needed to be said. Akira had to hear them, and that alone was reason enough to speak. “I don’t know what sort of friendships or people you’re used to, Akira, but I’m not interested in fitting into their pattern. I’d like to be something different for you, if you’ll let me.”

“Like what?” Akira asked, his voice pitched low. There was something intimate about the question, something so vulnerable and raw that it made Goro shiver to hear it. Akira’s voice was whisper soft and wet, like a tear or a kiss.

Goro looked at the boy’s eyes, dark and shining bright. He took a quick glimpse at his mouth, which was no longer tense and pressed down flat, as if trying to smother the life from himself. He reached out and placed his hand on Akira’s chest. The movement was slow and cautious, giving Akira ample time to stop him if that’s what he wanted. But he didn’t—didn’t stop, that is. So Goro slid his palm up and to the side, searching for the boy’s heartbeat. And there it was—thumping fast and steady against the cage of his ribs.

Akira swayed at Goro’s touch, as if the weight of that hand and its gentle search were almost too much to bear, but bear it he did. And that moment, that small moment, was enough to break Goro’s hesitation clean through, and let something like courage take its place.

“Like this,” Goro said, leaning in. His other hand curled up and around the back of Akira’s head, taking hold of that mess of unruly black hair and steadying himself in its grip.

When their lips met, the kiss was at first a hard little smash, about as awkward as they both felt. But they soon shifted, adjusting pressure and positions, tilting their heads just so until they found just the right space and place to fit together—and they did fit. They settled into each other and into the kiss, until just the one soon became a series, slow, soft, and searching.

Rest here, stay here, relax and breathe, Goro thought, thought and clearly could not say, not only because his lips were currently occupied, but because there was no way in hell these thoughts could translate well into words. Make a home out of me. Settle in and stay as long as you’d like. He might not be able to put these thoughts into words, but he could press them into each kiss and deliver them to Akira, the boy in clear and painful need.

And in that moment, in that small bit of time suspended in between seeking relief and finding release, Goro thought he understood Akira’s kisses, too. He could all but hear the unspoken words that passed between Akira’s lips over onto his. You’ll need me like they do—you’ll lean on me twice as hard as they ever will, but I will take it, I will endure it, because I would bear the world and more for you. Just you. Only you. If you’d only ask.

Goro stepped back and away first. Alright, that’s it. That’s enough. Once you started imagining what someone else’s kiss could mean, that’s how you knew you were in too goddamn deep. And Goro would at least like to pretend he could walk away from this encounter with something like his composure intact.

The kiss was broken, but his lips tingled in the aftermath, as if Akira were still pressed against his mouth, matching kiss for kiss and touch for touch. Goro closed his hand into a fist, feeling the boy’s heartbeat inside his palm. It thundered out of time with his own, making Goro mindful not only of his own frantic pulse, but the unsteady rhythm that countered it. It was an odd feeling to carry around, especially after a kiss. The beat didn’t buzz like a hornet, but it stung twice as hard and hurt ten times worse.

Akira cleared his throat. “That was unexpected,” he said. And for the first time all evening, he sounded like his usual self. Casual, laid-back, consistently amused and almost a little sore about it.

Goro felt himself smile. “It got you to calm down, didn’t it?” he asked.

“I… sort of?” Akira scratched the back of his head. “I mean, talking to you was already doing that just fine.”

“I see.” Goro’s heart was a thunder in his chest, slamming hard against his bones, ready to smash them to powder. This isn’t happening. This didn’t happen. I didn’t—

“I’m not complaining about it,” Akira continued, taking note of Goro’s pinned-on smile and the tightness around his eyes. “How could I? I kissed you back and more. It’s just…”

“Yes?”

Akira laughed again. It was a light, easy sound, the kind that made Goro’s smile slip from the edges and fall flat with hunger and need. He wanted to taste the sound of Akira’s laugh on his lips, wanted to have his full of that ease and charm—but they couldn’t. Not now, and certainly not here.

“Now I’m wishin’ I had called you over to Leblanc,” Akira said, his voice low and thick. Goro shivered as the words poured into his ears. The other boy’s low tone was like a new kind of kiss, taunting, tempting, and terrible all wrapped up into one. “So we could work out the rest of this in private.”

Goro suppressed a shiver. He closed his hands tight, trapped his shaking fingers in his palms. “So ask me,” he heard himself say.

“Come home with me,” Akira whispered, his eyes burning bright and his words like a flame burning their way down to Goro’s heart. “Come home with me and let’s finish what you started.”

“I—” Goro began, but the words got jumbled on his tongue and knocked out of order. I can’t. I won’t. I shouldn’t. We shouldn’t. It was a mistake—it was bold, brash, too stupid. I should have asked, should have waited. I should have hit you instead. If I go home with you now, then a part of me will never leave. I’ll grow in your life like a weed; you’ll have to tear me out by the roots, and I think that just might kill me.

“I can’t. Not now. Not yet.” Goro closed his eyes. It was easier to lie when he didn’t have to look at the person suffering from it. “But you can always call me if you’d like to—that is, if you wouldn’t mind…?”

“I hear you.” Akira pushed his hands into his pockets and adopted his usual slouching posture. Why didn’t Goro notice it until now, that this in itself was a kind of lie, a mask that wrapped up his whole body and trapped the truth of him inside? “And yeah, you’re probably right. It’s a school night and all. Might be worth getting some rest instead.”

“We’d both be better off doing just that,” Goro said. And this wasn’t a lie, not entirely. They would be better off separate and distinctly removed from each other’s reach—but they both were so clearly deadset against it, if all those kisses were any indication.

“Thanks for the help, Goro.”

“Thanks for being so… receptive.”

Akira smirked and shook his head. “You make it easy,” he said, looking Goro over. “It’s hard not to give in to you. Remember what I said the other day, about fate?”

Maybe fate meant for us to be together. “Yes, I do.”

Akira’s fingertips curled around the edge of Goro’s hand. They squeezed around his pinky finger, his touch pressing tight around the gloves on Goro’s hand. He offered Goro a smile, crooked and shy.

“Thanks for picking up the phone,” he said.”

“Of course.” Goro cleared his throat, determined to make his voice steady. “Any time.”

And with a wink, Akira pulled his hand back and walked away. Now it was Goro’s turn to struggle to breathe on the whole train ride back home.

You did this to yourself, he thought, struggling to fit his key into the lock of his apartment door. You did it to yourself and you enjoyed every minute of it. Goro laughed. The sound crept low and ghost-like through each dark, empty room. He was right. Of course he was right. And he didn’t regret a single thing.

He smiled in spite of himself—no to spite himself. He forced the smile to stay on and locked in place as he stripped for bed and slid beneath the covers. I did this to myself, and I wouldn’t trade this feeling for anything. Except, of course, for one person. Just one. Only him.

Goro hoped it wouldn’t take too Akira long to call. But he could wait. He could tarry. He could endure the hell of it. The hanging suspense between need and release was a terror of a new kind, a terror whose name was not quite love but just about, and Goro hoped it would last.

#akeshu #shuake #goro akechi #akira kurusu #akeshu fic #fanfic