#it's kind of difficult for me to properly criticize post-canon stuff actually

[applestorms]

been reading through some of the author commentary from the patreon post archive for HS^2 stuff & writing notes on certain quotes from it and i think i've come up with (slightly) more distinct reasons for why the epilogues/homestuck^2 feel so off and/or frustrating to me. not gonna post the full thing + i'm only about halfway through reading it all, but here's a few points (warning this one gets kinda political):

It’s possible “Ultimate” Dirk’s presence was suppressing other splinters of himself from manifesting.

Wait, so... Ult. Dirk is just suppressing the other splinters? But I thought the entire point was that he subsumed all the other splinters to become one Ultimate Self? Weird, but I guess that plays more into the narrative powers side of things that they put a lot of emphasis on. That, or the creators don't have a very clear idea of what actually makes an Ultimate Self, which would. also work lmfao

Unlike the other victors of the game, Jane threw herself into the world the kids made together. She grew up preparing to take over a major company, and has the confidence to show for it.

Gonna get more into two ideas here in a bit related to this quote, the first being HS^2's Trump Era politics & the second being Jane more specifically. Here's the first connection:

I don’t know if you noticed, but everything is terrible right now. And I don’t mean just in Homestuck’s dumb fake earth. I mean in our dumb real earth. Our planet is burning and folks go to bed hungry just so twelve guys can have more money than Croesus could have ever dreamed of. The concept of “truth” is at its most tenuous – political divisions involve contradictory interpretations of basic facts. I’ve been playing a lot of Death Stranding recently. Basically any media that you’re making in 2019 has to either address what’s going on around us or come off sanitized, sterilized, with its head in the sand. Kojima offers a simple power fantasy: Through Norman Reedus’s sweaty, urine-filled labor, the things that divide us can be banished. America can be unified again.

HS^2 is kind of agonizingly pessimistic when it comes to its (not at all subtle) political messaging, which I suppose you can in part attribute to a Trump-era leftist/liberal culture, but I personally also attribute to a specific flavor of white person existential pessimism. What frustrates me about HS^2's politics in particular though is just how much it talks down to the reader, acting like their (frankly, imo, pretty fuckin basic) reflections on the flaws of capitalism, gender constructs, and contemporary American politics are these revolutionary ideas that nobody other than them truly understands. It's really aggravating to read, honestly, and reminds me a lot of the perspective reflected on in this video by F.D Signifier about Bo Burnham's Inside & white performative liberalism, though in this context the creators are much more insufferable about it than Burnham ever was. (This is NOT to say every creator working on HS^2 was white or even ascribes/d to these kinds of politics, but that's one of the voices that I feel comes through the strongest.)

Edit: Re-watched that whole video and he really does get at the exact idea I'm thinking of. However, I would add that the thing that makes HS^2 feel especially insufferable to me is the fact that it doesn't feel like the authors are engaging in their politics as genuinely or personally as Burnham does. Where Burnham's look into these issues is self-reflective, the existential dread coming from the ways in which he himself plays a part in perpetuation of systems of oppression, I feel like HS^2's creators were unwilling to look at the ways in which they themselves might've benefited from the same kinds of privileges. It's just- it's egotistical, honestly! And it's a vibe that I get from a lot of heavily queer, young, white fandom spaces, which presume that because of their own experiences with queer and trans-based bigotry they understand everything and don't have to examine their own biases or any other nuances to their social position/the privileges they might personally have & continue to benefit from. I don't know- Homestuck was never going to be a good medium for examining the nuances of race and privilege, that was determined by the very first page or whenever Hussie decided non-canon races were a thing, but that doesn't make it any less agonizing to watch such a ham-fisted, pompous attempt at "social commentary." Ugh.

I guess I can understand the desire to get HS^2's politics to be more up to date and with it, again considering what the Trump-era American political landscape looked like (and what HS proper looked like, let's be real), but the way they approach this just makes the authors seem that much more immature to me. I hesitate to even call this political commentary, it's just pointing out that things are bad and then complaining about it. There's no hope here and it shows, and I personally have very little patience when it comes to that kind of perspective. I don't want to be too harsh to the creators or completely undermine the ways they might've faced structural social challenges (yes, trans people have it fucking bad right now! And there was absolutely some bigoted shit directed at the creators that was more reprehensible than anything here, I was there when this shit was coming out, I saw it all too (alongside the genuinely good criticism that they wrote off just as easily, but I digress)), but this shit is just bad, I'm sorry.

Privilege, safety, and inherited wealth do funny things to the brain. People justify to themselves why they have what they have. If you have enough for long enough, you start to convince yourself you deserve it. Jane won the game, lost very little, and as god of a new world decided to dominate its markets as a corporate mogul. Her conception of what was possible with her capability and god-like reason was shaded, limited by the world she grew up in. She is not a goddess of fantasy, a semi-mythical trickster creature like Jasprose, or a meta-aware marionette master like Dirk. She saw a new world and chose, simply, to replicate the power structures of the 21st-century America she was raised in. Boardrooms, power pantsuits, formality and professionalism.

(Longer quote here justifying the horror they did to Jane's character but let's add one more before I elaborate further)

But in the end, isn’t that what every story is? Trying to untie knots that you put in the rope yourself?

This quote is very telling and gets at my issue with the Jane quote from above, really one of my main issues with the all post-canon shit just in general: when the authors were creating a bunch of problems and inserting them into the story, something that is (typically) necessary for any kind of meaningful storytelling, they went about the process of introducing that conflict totally wrong.

In the original story of HS, problems for the characters primarily originated from Sburb, which acts as both the game they're playing and, as is demonstrated throughout Act 1, the world itself. Problems in the story thus often feel at least kind of true to life because they either originate directly from the game & its constructs (which the characters have no control over, parallel to how you can't usually control the world irl) or individuals responding to those circumstances w/ their own set of unique characteristics (Vriska being an active character and creating villains to become a hero but also Rose deciding she has to go through with a suicide mission in response to the game/Doc Scratch and Dave in turn responding to her actions, etc. etc.).

This is not necessarily true for all of the story or every single plot point/character arc, but I think it generally follows, and so for as meta as HS gets, it never really felt to me like you could see the hand of the author when it comes to how major plot elements are introduced, outside of a few very overt examples. Problems are able to crop up fairly naturally through characters responding in what they think to be natural/rational ways to their circumstances, but may or may not be due to the limitations on their understanding. The situation and environment of Sburb and the world of HS itself may be absurd and stupid and crazy and very obviously created by an author, but the characters typically feel consistent and true to themselves as people in how they respond to the absurdity and confusion of their world. It's one of the reasons why I think HS is so appealing as a coming of age story actually, since stepping into adulthood (or even just your teenage years) does often feel like entering a world that is crazy and cruel and unknowable with all of these malicious, far-away forces that know way more than you could ever possibly understand controlling every detail of the world around you and deciding your fate before you even get the chance to know it's coming. These are kids, they really don't have a lot of power even once they ascend to godhood in comparison to the forces they're dealing with, and the story & world reflects that.

The problem w/ HS^2 & the Epilogues is that the authors don't have the same game construct to work with, barely have a world at all to begin with actually, and so they instead twist pretty much every single character into the worst possible versions of themselves in order to try and recreate the same HS absurdity. But it just doesn't work, because there is no real explanation for why every character is suddenly at their lowest point and acting like a fucking idiot all the time other than "ooo adulthood makes everyone worse!" and vague gestures to capitalism and privilege (or what I would call structural ignorance, though I don't think they ever call it that), so the story just comes across as incredibly cruel and uncaring and unabashedly pessimistic in a way that's just miserable to read.

Yes, Jane grew up privileged, it makes sense that she would be sympathetic to capitalism and try to recreate the same social structures that fucked people up on the original Earth- but that is not nearly enough justification for why she has suddenly gone full fascist dictator endorsing troll eugenics and trying to murder people, and it doesn't even work well as social commentary cause it's so extreme right from the start that it couldn't possibly reflect real life issues or the development of actual fascist/bigoted ideas. Yes, Trump's ties to the alt-right are fucking terrifying and conservative politics in general in the U.S. nowadays are incredibly fucked, but there's still logical people and seemingly rational explanations being utilized to justify the bullshit that many people genuinely believe in and HS^2 fails to meaningfully reflect or comment on any of those, at least from what I can tell. Everyone is consistent with how they are terrible, I'll give them that, for Dirk and Jane and everyone else the flaws that are being emphasized are ones that are generally kind of consistent with canon, but I simply cannot get behind why they suddenly decided to be the worst possible versions of themselves other than that the authors realize they needed plot and decided that the best way to make Candy and Meat the Bad Timelines:tm: was to spontaneously make everyone as insufferable as possible.

I think a part of the problem is the time skip, honestly. And the fact that Earth C as a location itself is surprisingly underutilized when it comes to creating problems for the characters. The characters are gods ruling over a world where they can be dictator of the globe at the end of a single election. Without the game and the lack of distinct outside villains, there is nothing stopping them from having full agency over everything other than each other, so in order to create plot, instead of going through the effort to create a world or social structure they just made everyone worse and called it a day. It's like the epitome of white liberalism's inability to understand bad systems vs. bad individuals- there are no real systems here, nothing that actually functions past a name, so everyone is just fucking terrible.

(Honestly, I think the fact that there are no overt outside villains could've been a good way of transitioning to the fact that these characters aren't kids anymore- if Dirk and Jane didn't have to be transformed into fucking caricatures of themselves in order to do it. Really the problem is that so many of the characters that used to add interesting nuance to the social conflict are fucking dead now. RIP trolls.)

Since this is turning out to be the political astronaut ramble I guess I'll just keep going for a bit: one of the most meaningful insights a professor has ever given to me came is the idea that we "haven't earned our pessimism yet," as the younger generations, or haven't faced The Shit directly or long enough to justify having as little hope as we do. Many of us have looked at the problem and given up before even trying to solve it, and are, in fact, not really justified in making such a decision.

For me, there's an additional layer to that idea as well: one of the ideas that Beauvoir talks about in her feminist philosophy is that of agency, wherein social privilege allows for certain groups to decide which meaning-creating projects they want to or to not take on where others are not allowed to make the same choice. If you sit in any kind of position of social privilege, that historical role has continually been the one to not only benefit from the rules, but make them in the first place. This kind of pessimism is thus not just unearned, not just frustrating to listen to, but actively harmful to the creation of meaningful change. Who really benefits from inaction? From a lack of change to the status quo? And who are the privileged to make decisions about whether or not we're allowed to fight for this shit in the first place?

#astronaut rambles #big warning this one got a lot more political (sorry?) #i hope this doesn't come across as too harsh ik it gets a little preachy at the end #but i just. i have *so* little patience for that shit now guys #it was insufferable when hs^2 was first coming out and the creators were scrambling to justify their own actions #all the while bullying any fans that dared to try and reasonably criticize their terrible and/or questionable creative decisions #and it only gets worse the more time that passes #i almost get secondhand embarrassment reading these commentaries just from how unprofessional they can be #do not recommend #hs #rose tag #it's kind of difficult for me to properly criticize post-canon stuff actually #i don't know what it is about it #it's like it's just consistent enough w/ just enough half-decent ideas that sometimes i think its not that bad or ill even enjoy parts of i #but then i read certain comments and just. Remember #the Horrors #kinda scared to post this one but i've read it over a few times guess i'll just go for it

[justaramblingromantic]

fail better

Characters/Pairing: Kobayashi Rindou and Tsukasa Eishi/EiRin

Type: Canon-divergent AU, Post-series, Peerless-verse, Freestyle

Word Count: 2277

A/N #01: Ever read something so stupid that at the end of it all, you can almost literally feel the double negative ‘dislike’ interaction sign from The Sims forming right over your head? That was exactly my feeling after I read the nonsense that was chapter 296. Actually, my feeling was so strong it singlehandedly fueled my motivation to write this piece in one sitting, haha. What the effing heck, Tsukuda. 

A/N #02: Title derived by Samuel Beckett’s quote: “Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.”

xXxXxXxXxX

Hours after the conclusion of his round of the tournament, he was back in the still quiet of his hotel room, staring down at the empty text screen of his phone, wondering what to write to properly convey his conflicted feelings at the moment. He found himself stuck for the longest time, because the other person who had all but wrung a promise out of him for consistent updates of his progress would not appreciate it in the least if he was insincere or dishonest with her and, most importantly, himself.

And she would know intrinsically too, much to his chagrin.

He did not have to struggle futilely for the whole night, because as if aware of his mounting difficulties…or perhaps just plain exasperated with his indecisive dithering, the smart device in his hand vibrated impatiently with an incoming call, and the name that popped up on his Caller ID was both a comforting and sobering sight at the same time.

He picked up, of course. After a brief, hesitating pause. Mentally steeling himself, because it was…difficult not to be swept away by that surge of self-critical disappointment all over again.  

“…Hello.”

“Yo.”

In hindsight, he did not know what he was even feeling so anxious about. Just hearing that one word, just hearing that familiar voice filtered through the speaker from the other end, already possessed the miraculous effect of easing the stiff tension that had grown unbidden between his shoulders, bearing down on him like a heavy weight that entire day. He sighed her name.

“Rindou.”

There was some crinkling to be heard in ambient surroundings, as if she was snacking on something while on the phone with him at the same time. That casual familiarity soothed his nerves, because it was just like her to be so relaxed and comfortable around him. Before the conversation could lull and grow tense and awkward, she nonchalantly continued.

“I heard you got your ass handed to you today, Tsukasa~” his impish best friend all but singsonged.

Instead of feeling sorry and regretful over his loss, the woman actually sounded indecently gleeful instead. Even if he wanted to, it was hard to remain down in the doldrums when she was like this. He grew exasperated, remembering that sometimes she was the kind who liked to poke at people’s bruises, just to hear them yell.

“…You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” he deadpanned.

“Why should I?” she retorted between munches. “D’ya know how many texts I got this afternoon alone reporting your defeat to that Saiha dude? I practically received multiple blow-by-blow accounts, and they sent videos too; at least five different viewing angles of you getting your ass handed to you-”

Now, he was just plain mortified, never mind feeling sorry for himself.  

“What. Who texted you?” he demanded to know, flustered that she had to learn about it from other people instead of straight from him. His cheeks warmed in pique. “Why are people texting you anyway to tell you those things.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” she replied in a tone that implied she didn’t even have to wonder at all. Their closeness wasn’t exactly a big secret to those who knew them in Tootsuki.

“Where are you now, anyway?” she changed the subject blithely. “Moping about in your room?”

“I’m not moping,” he spluttered in denial. Sure, he was feeling a bit morose and out of sorts, but that was because there was nothing to do since he no longer had to prepare for the next stage of the competition! Furthermore and strangely enough, his defeat today had not felt as crushingly overwhelming as that time in the aftermath of the Regiment Shokugeki. And more importantly- “Next time, wait patiently for my texts instead of listening to the gossips of other people.”

“Then text me quicker next time-”

A knock on the door had him distracted, and he got up to answer it, phone still cradled to his ear.

“-I thought you got so depressed you decided to commit seppuku with that long-assed nail file of yours. Hola~!”

He opened the door…and there she was, standing at the entrance, her digitally modulated reply abruptly becoming clear and distinct in real time. She was bright eyed and smirking at him,  just so irrepressibly buoyant it was as if she was a ray of sunshine herself.

Eishi blinked owlishly in surprise. “You are…here.” He quickly snapped out of his brief stupor. “Wait. What are you doing here?”

She brushed past him to get into his room. “Ta-da~ I came to offer my bosom for you to cry on, of course!”

He shut the door and turned to her, a funny look crossing his face, still half in disbelief…because she was supposed to be in Barcelona right now.

She looked like she had just stepped off a flight, and she had come bearing consolation gifts, too. “Look what I bought on the way here!” She swiveled to him and raised the plastic bags that she was holding. “Fried chicken and cheap beer are the best things to fix a broken heart!”

“My heart is not broken,” he retorted, nonplussed by her shining enthusiasm to bring light to his dark and tortured soul. “And will you put those drinks away; we’re still underaged.”

“Boo; you’re so straitlaced! What’s a bit of underaged drinking gonna do? We’d be twenty in a year or so, anyway! Live a little!”

And then she promptly proceeded to make a mess in his otherwise previously tidy accommodation. Her sneakers were kicked haphazardly aside, she dumped her bag unceremoniously on the floor in the middle of the room, and with whirlwind efficacy, she soon had the food and drinks laid out on the dressing table. Popping a crispy piece of chicken, deep fried to golden brown perfection, into her mouth, she pulled out a chilled can of beer from the six pack, bought right off a nearby conbini, cracked it open, brought it right to her lips and drank deep. She exhaled gustily with happiness, eyes squeezed shut with contentment, a look of comical satisfaction flitting across her rosy face.  

“Hell yeah, this is the best~!”

The redhead popped open another can of beer, and she pushed it to him. “Don’t just stand there! Come join me, dummy.”

Eishi was reluctant at first, but as she handed him the choicest bits of chicken on a paper plate and then started to dig into her own share with zeal, he realized belatedly that he was hungry, too. How she miraculously knew that he hadn’t had dinner yet was a mystery; he had been preoccupied and had somehow forgotten all about eating in the process. He took refreshing sips of ice-cold beer in between succulent bites of crisp, precisely battered chicken; she was right, there was a certain epicurean pleasure to be had from this combination. His mind was already automatically deconstructing the dish, gauging the type of ingredients and their exact quantity, speculating on the various steps of preparation, how hot the temperature of the frying oil had to be-

She snorted at his distracted demeanor as they dawdled over the meal. “You’re such a nerd, I swear.”  

He snapped out of his thoughts to stare at her. She snickered.

“Feel better now?”

He continued to stare.

“Wanna walk me through how your bout went?” Her golden eyes gleamed. “Or maybe I should tell you how I think it went as related to me by my secret sources?”

“No, thank you-”

He obligingly spilled, not wanting to hear of the embarrassing accounts as witnessed by whoever had spied on him for her. Besides, she was someone who actually appreciated the finer nuances of his cooking style and methodology, even when others would have been bored to tears by all that incredibly dry, technical talk. She paid rapt attention, her eyes trained unwaveringly on him as he spoke about the dish he came up with, and objectively as well of the one that had eventually defeated him.

Rindou was intrigued.

“Huh. Sounds like you had quite a bit of fun out there.”

International competitions like The Blue were really on another level altogether. She also wondered how they were able to dredge up so much crazy every year just to stuff into one event.  

“I wouldn’t exactly call it ‘fun,’” Eishi muttered under his breath.

There was an annoying soreness just lying under the skin and muscles of his chest, growing more and more aggravating as time passed after that battle with Saiba Asahi, and downright impossible to ignore however he tried. It was a gripping feeling that he had not experienced in quite a long time. It felt like a muted rage, a festering, humiliating wound in his heart that had been dealt by the hand of his opponent.

“He claimed my knife in light of my loss,” he finally admitted his shame.

It was now or never, and he refused to lie. Not to her. Never, to her.

For one moment, the air around her stilled.

And then her eyes glowed bright with fury.

For all that some people always said of his selfishness and arrogance, even he had never stooped so low as to steal the precious knives of another chef, their livelihood, the very source of their pride. Everything that he had, he had painstakingly squeezed out of his own talents, refusing to rely or even lean on the abilities of others, because there was simply no honor or pride to be had for that kind of tainted victory. But such distasteful practice was not entirely unheard of, nor was it illegal or wrong. Life in the kitchen could be cutthroat and fast paced where all sorts of characters lurked; those who could not take the heat simply had no place there, regardless of how good or skilled they were.

Then again, Tsukasa had never been the kind to break easily.

“What an unpleasant punk,” Rindou uttered flatly, stiffly.

He said nothing to that, but somehow, he felt lighter, because here she was, absolutely furious on his behalf.

“Which blade did he take?”

He knew she was going to laugh. “…The one…you nicknamed ‘the long-assed nail file,’” he responded slowly, after a reluctant pause.

He was absolutely right; she snort-giggled into her beer. That heavy tension in the atmosphere promptly dissolved, and miraculously along with it, his paralyzing sense of disgrace. “Pffft. Of all the- That one?? Eh, I s’pose there’s really no accounting for taste, is there?”

Eishi sent her a disgruntled look, visibly put out by her reaction. “Enough, you. I actually liked that blade.”  

She relaxed at his mild censure. He was calmer now, less tense, less brittle. In turn, that pleased her, too. She took another sip of her beer, already on her second can.

“So make an even better one, then. In the first place, you haven’t even fully developed that technique yet with how recently you came up with it,” she pointed out.

He drank to that, too. “I intend to.” There was a firmness in his quiet reply, an unshakable resolve that hardened his usually distant, lavender gaze, as he retreated to a place within himself that would not allow him to give up until he had achieved what he sought to.

She eyed him silently over the rim of her drink. That look of relentless, dogged determination was something that she hadn’t seen on him for a long time.

“…You really are having fun with this,” she observed once more with insistence, her lips twitching up in a delighted smile.

“It’s not fun,” he promptly corrected her. “It’s…frustrating.”

“But at least it’s not boring anymore, right?” She nudged him knowingly. He sighed and looked down at her plainly amused expression. She wasn’t going to give up until he admitted it, was she? He really did not know how she did it; there was not one word of consolation offered over his defeat, but still she made him feel so much better, all the same.

“…No. It’s not boring anymore,” he acknowledged. He was simmering, seething quietly beneath that deceptively calm, tranquil façade of his. “I actually feel…quite displeased,” he admitted, frowning slightly and looking quite out of sorts with himself.

She snorted, once again, at the understatement. He was really terrible at expressing anger. She reached up and petted his head for trying his best, all the same. “There, there. Let it all out. You want Rindou onee-chan to give you a hug too? Not to blow my own trumpet, but my hugs are seriously the best.”

He stared at her shamelessly bragging. Or maybe not, since he knew from experience that her hugs were seriously the best indeed, as advertised.

“Okay,” he agreed readily to her half joking offer. Perhaps it was the beer that relaxed his inhibitions, for he briefly studied her where she was sitting beside him, and then, without hesitation, he reached out, grabbed her around her middle, and half tugged, half lifted her onto his lap. She paused in surprise at his spontaneity, but before anything else could be said, he folded his arms around her and gently nested her against himself. He pressed his face into crimson fragrance of her hair and inhaled, sighing at her warmth and softness.

“…I’m glad you came,” he told her truthfully. It made him feel sleepy too, tension dissipating, and weariness rushing to the forefront in the face of this simple, reassuring contentment that was Rindou.  

Her gaze softened. Her arms curled lazily around him in return, and she snuggled up to her best friend.

“Mm. You worked hard today, Tsukasa. Well done-”

xXxXxXxXxX

#Shokugeki no Soma #Food Wars: Shokugeki no Souma #Tsukasa Eishi #Kobayashi Rindou #EiRin #EiRin: Peerless AU #freestyle #my fics