#and then of course he inevitably has to face justice for his own actions which he does without hesitation

[todayisafridaynight]

mine WOULD be the justice arcana. if you even care or anything.

#snap chats #LISTEN SOMEONE JOKED ABOUT IT ON MY INITAL POST BUT LIKE #I HAD ALREADY THOUGHT HE'D BE JUSTICE CAUSE IT'S JUST FITTING IN EVERY SENSE LMAOOOO #i just keep thinkin bout it cause it just fits so well #brunette-with-parental-difficulties-and-a-stoic-personality-who-needs-the-protagonists-help-to-be-at-peace-with-themselves gang rise up #'help' he beats the shit out of mine but listen. you can shoot akechi on a boat LMAO #have your duel in the metaverse w/e i'm getting off topic #seriously though the thing is 'justice' is a part of his character #more so 'justice' in the sense of lashing out against opposition to daigo #'justice' in enacting punishment on others who he's deemed have done wrong in one way or another #and then of course he inevitably has to face justice for his own actions which he does without hesitation #as he interprets that as 'the best' course of action and proper atonement #justice also goes more into pursuing The Truth wherein mine's truth is learning about the true value of bonds with others #see typing that just SOUNDS like a persona villain man fuck off LMAOO #see i wasnt going to type a proper essay but i kinda want to.... the worms are festering on my brain.... #UGH SEE NOW I WANNA WRITE UP SOMETHING PROPER CAUSE I FEEL LIKE I AINT SAYIN WHAT I WANNA SAY HOW I WANNA SAY IT #like UGH this is why i like doing the persona arcana shit cause like #when you find a match you can REALLY find a match and its just fun exploring how well it fits #ima stop now tho ill go be normal now. and by that i mean rummage around my kitchen and make like. breaded chicken at 8PM #i dont even eat at night but i also cant just let that go to waste it wont be good if i leave it in the fridge overnight #ok whatever this post is everywhere. these TAGS are everywhere my mistake #thats always what i mean though like 'the post' is just like. The Title yk what i mean #the REAL meat's in the tags. because i'm deranged #i don't know why it's more comforting to type in the tags it just is. it's like Extra Bits for the post or whatever idk #ok im done now fr bye #send me more arcana shit if you want because like i said This Shit Gets Fun

[metamorphesque]

Do you happen to remember a quote of Dostoevski's about mice? I know it's very random but my friend was telling me about it the other day but they also can't remember where they read it. It's fine if you can't, don't worry

sure I do! It might be from the third chapter (part 1) of "Notes from the Underground".

With people who know how to revenge themselves and to stand up for themselves in general, how is it done? Why, when they are possessed, let us suppose, by the feeling of revenge, then for the time there is nothing else but that feeling left in their whole being. Such a gentleman simply dashes straight for his object like an infuriated bull with its horns down, and nothing but a wall will stop him. (By the way: facing the wall, such gentlemen--that is, the "direct" persons and men of action--are genuinely nonplussed. For them a wall is not an evasion, as for us people who think and consequently do nothing; it is not an excuse for turning aside, an excuse for which we are always very glad, though we scarcely believe in it ourselves, as a rule. No, they are nonplussed in all sincerity. The wall has for them something tranquillising, morally soothing, final-- maybe even something mysterious ... but of the wall later.)

Well, such a direct person I regard as the real normal man, as his tender mother nature wished to see him when she graciously brought him into being on the earth. I envy such a man till I am green in the face. He is stupid. I am not disputing that, but perhaps the normal man should be stupid, how do you know? Perhaps it is very beautiful, in fact. And I am the more persuaded of that suspicion, if one can call it so, by the fact that if you take, for instance, the antithesis of the normal man, that is, the man of acute consciousness, who has come, of course, not out of the lap of nature but out of a retort (this is almost mysticism, gentlemen, but I suspect this, too), this retort-made man is sometimes so nonplussed in the presence of his antithesis that with all his exaggerated consciousness he genuinely thinks of himself as a mouse and not a man. It may be an acutely conscious mouse, yet it is a mouse, while the other is a man, and therefore, et caetera, et caetera. And the worst of it is, he himself, his very own self, looks on himself as a mouse; no one asks him to do so; and that is an important point. Now let us look at this mouse in action. Let us suppose, for instance, that it feels insulted, too (and it almost always does feel insulted), and wants to revenge itself, too. There may even be a greater accumulation of spite in it than in L'Homme de la Nature et de la Verite. The base and nasty desire to vent that spite on its assailant rankles perhaps even more nastily in it than in L'Homme de la Nature et de la Verite. For through his innate stupidity the latter looks upon his revenge as justice pure and simple; while in consequence of his acute consciousness the mouse does not believe in the justice of it. To come at last to the deed itself, to the very act of revenge. Apart from the one fundamental nastiness the luckless mouse succeeds in creating around it so many other nastinesses in the form of doubts and questions, adds to the one question so many unsettled questions that there inevitably works up around it a sort of fatal brew, a stinking mess, made up of its doubts, emotions, and of the contempt spat upon it by the direct men of action who stand solemnly about it as judges and arbitrators, laughing at it till their healthy sides ache. Of course the only thing left for it is to dismiss all that with a wave of its paw, and, with a smile of assumed contempt in which it does not even itself believe, creep ignominiously into its mouse-hole. There in its nasty, stinking, underground home our insulted, crushed and ridiculed mouse promptly becomes absorbed in cold, malignant and, above all, everlasting spite. For forty years together it will remember its injury down to the smallest, most ignominious details, and every time will add, of itself, details still more ignominious, spitefully teasing and tormenting itself with its own imagination. It will itself be ashamed of its imaginings, but yet it will recall it all, it will go over and over every detail, it will invent unheard of things against itself, pretending that those things might happen, and will forgive nothing. Maybe it will begin to revenge itself, too, but, as it were, piecemeal, in trivial ways, from behind the stove, incognito, without believing either in its own right to vengeance, or in the success of its revenge, knowing that from all its efforts at revenge it will suffer a hundred times more than he on whom it revenges itself, while he, I daresay, will not even scratch himself. On its deathbed it will recall it all over again, with interest accumulated over all the years and ...

#asks #fyodor dostoevsky

[hopeymchope]

2022: The Rise of the Sneering, Manipulative Protagonist!

...and I mean that in the BEST possible way.

Based on my other writings on this Tumblr, you might read that headline and expect this to be a teardown of the characters I’m referring to. After all, you might think that a certain purple-haired lad with a checkerboard scarf could be described with the same words. But I say thee NAY! I come not to condemn the heroes of Tomadachi Game and Trapped in a Dating Sim, but instead to praise them!

So: Over the past couple of months, I’ve fallen in love with two boys who have truly embraced the notion of being the hero people need even if they’re not the one people want. Not only are they really compelling characters in their own right, it’s also interesting to see how their attempts to “playing the bad guy” contrast with somebody I’ve previously ragged on in this blog quite a bit. 

But we’ll get there. First, let’s talk about these two guys with their somewhat-similar solutions to problems as well as their obviously-similar hairdos.

We begin with Yuuchi Katagari, the protagonist of Tomadachi Game. (Which should really have been translated as “Friendship Game” for English audiences, but I guess someone in localization did precisely 1/2 their job and then rolled over for a nap or something.) Tomadachi Game is about Yuuchi and his friends getting trapped in a series game “rounds” where huge amounts of money are on the line — and unfortunately, huge amounts of debt are given to them from the outset. The kind of amounts that could destroy them and their families. I’ve given a VERY spoiler-free shout-out to it before. (And dont worry. I’m not gonna spoil either of these anime/manga/light novels beyond their setup details.)

The rest of the jist is that it soon becomes clear that the game is rigged towards making them all lose, and Yuuchi? He’s not going to let his friends destroy their lives. But he’s not going to let whoever’s behind the scheme get away with it, either. He wants justice.

A face you can trust. Clearly.

So, although Yuuchi starts off seeming pretty wholesome, once the titular game gets underway and shit begins to get real, he is soon looking a lot more... unhinged. He starts using his intelligence to manipulate everybody around him in such a manner that will lead to exposing more and more information about the game and its mastermind. Yuuchi is willing to act like an absolute maniac if that’s what he thinks the people in charge will want and need to see. He’ll embrace the role of villain externally, but at the same time, he’s working to keep his friends from suffering for their involvement — that is, provided their involvement is innocent. In the course of his actions, he appears to be manipulating all of his friends at times. And sometimes, it’s true. But even that manipulative appearance might be a maneuver in itself in certain cases — cases where, in reality, he’s being totally being upfront and honest with some of them while fronting for other people’s sake. 

It can sometimes be hard to figure out when he’s legitimately winning a game and when he’s legitimately losing one, because he just fronts so goddamn well. He’s easily one of the smartest characters I’ve seen in an anime — I’ve seen one YouTuber compare Yuuchi to the likes of Lelouch from Code Geass or Light from Death Note. And who doesn’t enjoy watching these sorts of master manipulators? .... Especially when they get to unload on people who’re much, much shittier. Having to act like a douchebag to other decent people? That may be necessary at times, but it kinda sucks. The complete jackasses though? Those are always the highlights.

Sure, he’s probably not gonna do it, but I mean... he’d be pretty justified if he did.

Even as things get tougher/darker for Yuuchi and he questions his own morality, starting to think that he really is a bad person at heart... the audience at home never has much reason to doubt his goodness. Even when he reveals some dark secret about his past, it inevitably seems to lead into a context that is actually NBD. And even when some of his friends seem to turn against him, he’s quick to forgive and bring them back under his protection — which they readily embrace. The result is surprisingly heartwarming.

Aw, see? He’s just an innocent lil’ fluffhead.

It just takes a little bit of honest communication to make his manipulative “villainy” into twisted teamwork. And sure, he stumbles a little bit — at one point he’s mean to one of his friends just because he wants to drive her away from him so she’ll be safe. But that same damn night, he rushes to be there for her and makes it all up to her. So even when he’s legit acting like an asshole, he can recover from those events pretty quick. Just because he’s playing 4D chess and acting like a psycho for external observers doesn’t mean he’s being a selfish dick about it for those who matter to him, and I love that.

I might love Leon Fou Bartfort even more, though — it’s hard for me to say. I just *might*.

Claims to hate “hot guys.” Is actually kinda hot though?

Leon’s the protagonist of Trapped in a Dating Sim: The World of Otome Games Is Tough for Mobs. YEAH, it’s one of those overlong titles that tells you “Oh, this is based on a series of light novels.” And it’s even a dreaded isekai story.

Historically, I don’t care for isekais much. Not only are they WAY overdone these days (and even when I write it in all caps and/or bold it, “WAY overdone” feels inadequate to explain just how fucking much isekai is out there currently), but I’ve found precious few of them do much with the conceit that feels unique. I do think Konosuba is pretty funny overall (though it has its obvious downfalls), and I adore the reverse-isekai The Devil is a Part-Timer! But in truth, I think I got more deeply invested in TiaDS than either one of those. This damn thing is something special.

The setup: Leon finds himself reborn in an otome game in which the matriarchical society allows noblewomen to attend an academy in their young adult years. Said academy is ostensibly about academics and etiquette, but it’s really about the men trying to impress the women that they’d make good husbands. Leon’s sister made him play this otome game to completion back in our world, and now, Leon hopes to use his knowledge of the game’s world and events to avoid any danger or drama. Initially, that seems like it’ll be easy because he’s just a background NPC of lower birth. But naturally, he soon finds that he’s going to face a horrible fate if he doesn’t achieve some level of nobility that will get him out of his predicament. And when he swiftly pulls THAT off, he’s forced to attend the same academy as all the game’s central characters. So once again, he tries to stay away from them and avoid their problems. And once again, he predictably cannot leave well enough alone. Both his moral code and his extreme irritation with the school’s highest nobility make him unable to stand aside and let things play out. That’s when he realizes that if he wants to both monitor what events are coming/what “route” the game is on AND also give some comeuppance to those who treat others as “lesser,” he needs to embrace acting like a douchebag. He must vilify himself to become the hero this world deserves. 

“Do you ever wonder why there are so many treasure chests throughout these dungeons? Like: Who put them there, and why?” “Nope. Sure haven’t.”

Leon is nowhere near as smart as Yuuchi, though. Even as he attempts to manipulate events through his behavior, his plans seem to backfire almost as often as they succeed. Sometimes he self-sabotages by acting impulsively. Leon is also probably a worse person than Yuuchi because he lacks Yuuchi’s self-doubt and self-awareness. It’s not too surprising when Leon starts to genuinely enjoy his cruelty on occasion, turning him into something of a “toxic gamer” type who verbally abuses others as he takes them out. (Yes, this supposed otome game has combat in it. Combat with mechs, even. Go figure.) But honestly, if gloating over people he beats in combat is his biggest sin? I think we can handle that. .... Though it is pretty rude, tbh.

Even with that character flaw, however? Leon waffles on his ability to fully play the villain role he’s assigned himself. Yuuchi is much more dedicated; Leon can’t help but make moves behind the scenes to help his enemies out so they don’t suffer overmuch for his actions. Even when he’s in the midst of a fight for his life, he refuses to kill anybody — something which his A.I. companion notes could definitely come back to bite him in the future.

That’s right, Leon has an A.I. companion: Luxion! Luxion was once housed within a robot that attempted to kill Leon. After a simple bit of reprogramming and a transition to a far less intimidating body, he now serves Leon with politeness that only barely masks his grumpiness and loathing. Their back-and-forth is really funny, and it’s cool to see how they gradually come to like each other at least a little more with time. 

Leon gives Luxion the privilege of naming his mech suit.

Even better, though, is Leon’s personal growth as he learns things about himself and how to treat others by comparing his behavior to that of the people around him. You see other characters in this world who first appear one-note come to show FAR more nuance, too. 

Plus, as I’ve said before, the English dub for this show is just insanely fucking good. Top-tier.

As much as I think Leon is great? I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention how cool Angelica is, too. By the end of the season, she was my second-favorite character. Angelica is the otome game’s ostensible villain — the girl who has it out for the protagonist and tries to prevent her from getting with any of the various pretty-boy nobles. She is also, like many of the characters in this show, deeper than she appears on the surface. Viewing the scenario from a different angle gives Leon a new perspective on her whole deal. The same goes for us viewers, presumably.

“Evil” is in the eye of the beholder, my guy.

But let’s get down to business (to defeat the huns): You might be inclined to wonder why I love these guys but despise Kokichi Ouma. After all, isn’t Kokichi ALSO publicly playing the part of the villain in order to draw out a mastermind and end a game — which sounds just like Yuuchi, who I claim to love?

To some of you, I bet the difference is already obvious.

Yuuchi and Leon are both keeping people in the loop on what they’re doing, and they avoid unnecessary cruelty (plus they try to make up for it with quieter acts of kindness). Yuuchi does try to do the “convince his friends that he’s evil” thing a couple of times, but he swiftly backs down on it in less than 24 hours. Because as soon as they need someone, he can’t help but be there to stand up for them. And Leon? Leon never tries to push his friends away. His initial pals at the academy, Dan and Raymond? They are ALWAYS in the loop on his plans. HIs newest friends, Olivia and Angelica? Even though he just met them, he’s still constantly open with them about what’s going on and why he’s doing it. His performance is only for the people he doesn’t know at all or just doesn’t like. 

Part of the fun is in watching them maneuver other people by pretending to be evil and/or psychotic while simultaneously being good-hearted people who show obvious care for others. Yuuchi and Leon are never going to be relentlessly cruel to the people around them without swiftly making up for it, and they’re never going to withhold information that could save lives for personal amusement. That’s only Kokichi’s jam, see?

Be Warned, Though: Neither “Tomadachi Game” or “Trapped in a Dating Sim” are currently a complete story as an anime. Both animes end with the door wide open for future seasons. But if you wish to keep going, the option to explore the source material IS there. Tomadachi Game’s manga is widely available in English online, and the series of Trapped in a Dating Sim light novels even has an official English publication that will take you far beyond the limits of the show. I don’t believe either of those source materials has wrapped up, however. So at some point, you’ll have to hit that wall. 

Personally, I’m going to start digging into those light novels first.

#tomadachi game #anti-kokichi ouma #anti-kokichi oma #yuuchi katagiri #leon fou bartfort #trapped in a dating sim #trapped in a dating sim: the world of otome games is tough for mobs #anime #anime reviews #anime gifs #personal essays #essays #danganronpa

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 20: Off Planet (Meeting the Justice League)

AO3

Prev

Marinette, in her Ladybird costume, looked at her older brother warily. 

“Are you sure we’re not gonna get in trouble for this?” She asks, avoiding looking around too much. If she just keeps looking at Jason, she can have plausible deniability until he confirms that they’re allowed to be here. Because last she checked, she wasn’t even allowed on patrols. Let alone in the Watchtower. 

“Tt. I would like to see Father try. He knows he is currently on Todd’s ‘list’.” Damian-er, Robin- says, crossing his arms and scowling. Marinette frowns. She didn’t want her brothers to fight with her dad because of her….but then again, she was still really hurt by her dad’s actions. And he still hadn’t apologized. Making up her mind, she lets out a quick sigh and glances around, jaw dropping slightly. It was amazing! And definitely worth the inevitable lecture they’d be getting when they got home. 

“Robin, Red Hood.” A man’s voice catches her attention and she whirls around, grinning from ear to ear. Sure, she’d seen Superman on the computer, but now she was meeting him in person. In person! “And you are?” He adds, quirking an eyebrow at her. 

“I’m Ladybird. Nice to meet you in person.” She says with a wide grin. 

“You don’t look anything like you did over video call.” He says, frowning at her as if she was a puzzle. She winces. Miraculous magic definitely didn’t cover her the last time she’d seen him. Scanning the look on his face, everything suddenly clicks. She thinks back to the Gala, how familiar Clark Kent had seemed. Well crap. Her dad’s best journalist friend was also his best superhero friend. Who'd've thought. 

“Oh, uh, yeah- well, um. Lighting?” She stumbles out, avoiding the questioning look from her older brother. 

“Right. Well, welcome to the tower. Is Batman around? I’ve been meaning to talk to him.” Superman says, though she guesses he’s only asking to try and get them to reveal where their dad is. He’d definitely be able to tell if Batman was here. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, welp, gotta go.” Jason-Red Hood- says, grabbing her by the shoulders and steering her away from Superman. 

“How long do you think we have until he tells B?” She asks under her breath, ignoring the snort coming from where they left him. 

“Not long. But, we definitely have enough time for you to meet a few more Leaguers before we’ve gotta get home.” Jason reassures her as they walk down the hall. 

“What’re you kids doing here?” A man- Green Lantern- asks. 

“Pissing off Bats.” Jason says simply. Green Lantern frowns. 

“Is that a good idea?” He asks. “And who even is she?” 

“Tt. She is not any of your concern. Neither is our appearance here. If you know what is good for you, you will keep it to yourself.” Damian says, Green Lantern immediately backing off. 

“Christ, his kids are insane.” He mumbles before walking away. Jason keeps pushing them forward and Marinette is starting to think that he planned something besides a ‘random trip to the Watchtower to piss Bruce off’. They walk into a room and Marinette’s eyes widen, realizing it looks like some kind of meeting space. And Wonder Woman is seated at the table, seemingly preparing for a meeting. Oh no. 

“What are the three of you doing here? You know-” She starts before turning all of her attention to Marinette. 

“Uh…..hi?” She says with an awkward wave. 

“You’re the holder of the Ladybug Miraculous.” Wonder Woman says and Marinette’s jaw drops. 

“What!” Jason yells in surprise. Okay, so this wasn’t the plan. 

“How do you know that?” Marinette asks, her mind running a million miles a minute. How did Wonder Woman know? Had she purposefully ignored the calls Marinette had originally made as Ladybug? 

“My mother was a holder. I was under the impression that the Miraculous were no longer in circulation.” Wonder Woman says, a tense look on her face. 

“I’ve been the holder for nearly two years.” Marinette says, tensing. She wasn’t going to try to take it from her, was she?

“I mean no offense, but you seem young.” Wonder Woman says cautiously. 

“I’m older than Robin.” She says, ignoring her brother’s annoyed tut. Yeah, so he was trained from birth and she wasn’t, who cares. Didn’t mean she wasn’t able to protect her city. She’d do whatever she had to do to protect Paris. Whatever it takes. 

---

Bruce was tired. More specifically, he was tired of fighting with his children. Neither Jason nor Damian would talk to him, Marinette kept avoiding eye contact, Tim was working on more cases. The only one who was talking to him was Dick, but even Dick was quieter than normal. He supposed it had something to do with the Gala, but that was days ago. He’d assumed that they would be over it by now, but no such luck. Instead, they were all avoiding him like the plague. Which meant he was alone in the manor for the first time in awhile. It was quiet. He hated it.

“You’ll never guess where two of your sons are.” Clark says, landing in front of him suddenly. Bruce resists the urge to sigh. Of course his sons were up to something. 

“Were they masked?” Bruce asks as a quick way to narrow down their location. 

“Yeah, and Ladybird was with them.” He says. Bruce’s jaw clenches. She wasn’t supposed to go on patrol with the boys. She could patrol in Paris and fight there, but the last time she fought here she was injured. Badly. She knew how he felt about her going out like that. Deciding to give up on the guessing game, Bruce pulls out his phone and quickly pulls up the app that has the trackers on it. He knew he’d be unable to track Marinette, as she was transformed, but all of his sons had trackers in their suits. Bruce thinks for a moment, thinking back to the past few days on who would be most likely to take Marinette on patrol somewhere. He purses his lips as he realizes one of the boys has to be Jason. Of course. Clicking on Jason’s name, he groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. He took her to the Watchtower. He glances at the dot next to Jason- Damian’s name blinking back at him. This couldn’t end well. 

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He grumbles, whirling around to stalk off to get in uniform. Time to go pick up his damn kids. 

---

Jason had made many mistakes in his life. He was pretty sure this was one of them. He ducks as another chair is thrown across the room, an anger filled scream following it. 

“Pix, you maybe wanna-” He tries to say, hoping to talk her down from throwing another chair. She’d already broken three. 

“Diana says this is healthy!” Pixie says with a bright smile. He’s relieved for a moment, but it doesn’t last. Her face twists up as she screams again, throwing another chair. Jason ducks and it flies over him, shattering against the doorframe. 

“What is going on here?” Batman’s gruff voice rings through the room and Jason watches as Marinette freezes. Okay, so this can go one of two- and another chair flies at their dad. 

“Ladybug, that’s just Batman. Your rage is not at him, remember? It is at your old Master, and the wielder of the Peacock Miraculous.” Diana says, laying a hand on Mari’s shoulder. The younger girl scoffs, crossing her arms defiantly and Jason is momentarily thrown at how much she looks like Damian. Jesus. 

“I know perfectly well who that is, Lady Diana. Please, excuse me, but I’m not particularly fond of him at the moment.” She snarks, and Jason is completely thrown. He’d known the kid was mad at Bruce, but she kinda sounded like...him. Well shit. That’s not the healthiest way to cope with anything. 

“Pix.” He says quietly. She turns to him and all of the tension drops as she walks over to him, standing almost behind him. Almost as if he could shield her. Good job Bruce. You really fucked up this time. 

“Ladybird, Robin, it’s time to leave.” B says, not even trying to boss Jason. He knew it wouldn’t turn out well for him. 

“No.” Marinette says, and Jason snorts. The kid was definitely pushing buttons today. 

“No?” B asks, his jaw clenched. 

“No. I’ll leave when Hood does.” She says, jutting out her chin in defiance. 

“No, you’ll leave when I tell you to. You’re not even supposed to be in uniform with the boys.” B snaps. 

“Father, there is no reason for her to stay hidden away. You know as well as I that she is an accomplished hero on her own. Hood and I simply wanted to let her meet Wonder Woman. We believed that meeting her would be beneficial for Ladybird.” Demon Spawn cuts in, his stance matching Pixie’s. He was totally going to have to have Replacement look at the footage from his helmet later so he could frame this picture. 

“I said it’s time to leave. I will be waiting outside of the Zeta tubes. If the two of you are not there in three minutes there will be consequences.” B snaps, turning and storming off. 

“I will allow you to make the call. If you wish, we can stay here and we will face Father’s wrath together. Or we could leave and come back when he is not so….worked up.” Damian says, his scowl replaced with a more neutral look. Jason was honestly shocked at how well Demon Spawn got along with Marinette. Especially since she was a “blood child” and older than Damian. It was weird. Marinette leans up against Jason, and he swears his heart breaks. He could tell, despite the mask, that she was hurting. 

“If you want, we can follow him back to Gotham and then head to one of my safe houses. Stay the night there, watch some movies, eat a shit ton of junk food.” Jason suggests with a grin. 

“Really?” She asks, looking up at him. He nods, ruffling her hair. 

“Sure thing, kiddo. Trust me, I know B can be a lot.” He says. He glances up as Diana clears her throat.

“Ladybug, I’ll be in contact. But the time limit set by Batman is quickly dwindling. I suggest leaving now to avoid any altercations.” She says and Jason nods, tugging his emotionally stunted little brother along with his emotionally distressed little sisters. One of these days Bruce was gonna fuck up bad enough that not even Jason could fix it.

Next

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[angstmongertina]

The Vision of Lachesis

Spoilers for Artem’s Entwined Fates SSR card story! Also, warning for angst and implied/mentioned character death, because I can only write so much fluff before things get angsty.

I had this idea almost as soon as I played the Entwined Fates card story because I am a sucker for outside POV fics, though the idea for the last scene came later lol. Incidentally, if you want to skip the angst, just stop before the little warning I put in there. Everything before it should be perfectly fluffy.

Cross-posted to AO3.

In his years living at Cloudbreak Temple, Master Lu has already seen many visitors pass through its gate, all with various different hopes and dreams and stories filling their souls. He has seen everyone, from new babies to old grandmothers, from shy young couples to blissful newlyweds and bickering old spouses. And still, the pair he spies entering the temple catch his attention.

He is, as is always the case during the busy festival days, pulled in all directions at once, guiding petitioners through the rituals of prayer and interpreting fortune, but even so, he cannot help but keep an eye on them. A man in front, tall and middle-aged, wearing a solemn expression that does not quite suit the laugh lines on his face, and a boy, not yet fully grown and quiet, shying away slightly from the noise and bustle around him but watching the proceedings with a bright, piercing gaze. The man says something, a gentle hand clapping the boy’s shoulder in a warm, fatherly gesture that brings a faint smile to the small face, before they dive into the crowd, and he turns his attention back to the couple before him.

Thankfully, they do not comment on his preoccupation and he puts the others out of mind as he helps them determine their fortunes.

The next time he sees the pair, they are with old Master Wang, which comes as no great surprise to him. Although Cloudbreak Temple may be most well-known for petitions to the star of wisdom, they accommodate many types of prayers, and while the boy may be of the age where success in learning and exams is important, one glance at the youthful face is enough to tell him that the boy has both intelligence and diligence to spare, and furthermore, a concrete attitude that would likely dismiss the thought of appealing to prayers for school out of hand. No, there is no need for prayers for success. But for safety, on the other hand…

He moves a little closer, still not yet so close as to be truly spying, but near enough to get a better look at the pair. The man is dressed casually, long brown hair pulled out of his face, and stands almost at a slouch, but the eyes that observe the world around him through thin-rimmed glasses are far from relaxed. Instead, their grey depths are cautious, sharp, clearly accustomed to seeking out the truth behind every person, every choice and interaction. It is only when they fall on the young man beside him do they soften with affection and concern. A man of action, of justice and strong morals, though perhaps of some impetuousness and with a fragility under it all.

A man, in short, who likely puts himself into the path of danger for the good of the people around him, but who also might shatter should he be pushed to the brink, should the lives of those he cares about be on the line.

And the boy…

Master Lu frowns, brushing a thoughtful hand over his chin and the faint beginnings of a thick beard as the man ruffles the boy’s hair and he looks up at his companion with a small but adoring smile.

The boy still has a whole entire life in store for him, of that he is certain. And one that will no doubt intersect with the temple again.

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When the couple steps through the gates of the temple, the man sheltering the girl beside him from the crowds, he notices them immediately. Though many years have passed, he has learned to trust his instincts, even beyond what his mind may tell him, and his gut recognizes the man long before his eyes do. The boy has grown, of course, in the ensuing two decades, but the bright intelligence, the thoughtfulness and care, all harken back to the shy child of so long ago.

But rather than his old friend and mentor, this time, the man brings with him a companion of his own. At first glance, she is just as bright-eyed and curious as he once was, though perhaps with more anxiety than he had, focusing immensely on the tasks before her. And the way he watches her…

Before he knows it, he is approaching the pair, standing at a table for the star of wisdom, and offers his assistance. He sees her attention flit away as her partner leaves for his own prayer, following him through the crowd with her eyes and her mind; though she appears to be unaware of it herself, her partner knows, and he knows, that even apart, their hearts, their very lives themselves, are irrevocably entwined, two souls pulled together by an inescapable gravity that he had not seen in decades, if ever.

He cannot help his curiosity about them, about this pair that seems to confirm the very existence of fate itself. These two lawyers, partners, these two halves of a single whole, that the universe has brought together, in an act of perfect balance.

Their marriage fortunes, an offer he makes that is part personal interest, part guiding hand, come as a surprise, though perhaps it should not have been wholly unexpected. He has never been wrong before, not about the couples who have captured his attention, but this…

This is less of a gentle nudge from fate and more of a flashing neon sign.

She reacts to her fortune tag first and he cannot help but smile at the curiosity, at the innocence, in her eyes. “I cannot keep my heart, as it longs to be with you…” A straightforward fortune, as befitting the girl who watches her partner with subconscious adoration, who still does not see his unconditional tenderness, who still does not understand her own constant preoccupation, for what they are. In time, she will realize.

But her partner…

He knows from the moment he sees the man’s face that the meaning of his own fortune is not lost on him. “It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.” And it is fitting for him, for the way he turns away from this, his hesitant heart, cautiously hopeful for a sign that the undying flame he carries will not be snuffed out, bruised from this heavy blow from fate, determined to carry its burden alone, to push his feelings aside and pretend that all is well, as he has always done.

It is a cautionary tale, this particular fortune, and he can say nothing, can only look on in weighty silence, as its recipient takes his companion and continues down his ill-fated and forewarned path.

Or, at least, attempts to, but for the efforts of the girl by his side. He does not listen to the conversation not meant for his ears but he does not need to, not when her thoughts are written clear across her face, not when she tugs her partner back to hear his explanation.

Not when she, despite being still oblivious to the depth of their connection, to the direction of her heart, immediately moves to petition, to help, to find some way of reversing the luck, propelled by outward concern and hidden affection.

He gives them directions both to the wishing tree and for the method to improve one’s luck and watches as she leaps at each opportunity, apparently unaware of the implications, in her quest to lessen her companion’s misfortune. But the man, now wearing a near constant smile of stunned helplessness, knows, even if he cannot, or perhaps more likely, will not, let himself, discern the cause of her concern.

Not even when it involves her suggesting that they bind their fortunes together on the wishing tree.

He chuckles, running his fingers over his beard as he watches them, their gentle discussion and animated features, both conveying so much to the world that they are too close, too farsighted, to see. But in this moment, it is not his place to say anything, to interfere any further, and so he doesn’t. Fate has already shown her own interest in their future, one that they have accepted and furthered, without, apparently, even realizing it.

Ah, to be young and in love.

Waving off their thanks, he watches as they leave before shaking his head and letting out the full-bellied laugh that he has been holding back since he first met them. In all of his years working at the temple, he has never been wrong before, and he is certain that he will not be wrong this time.

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The first day of the festival dawns early and bright, with that telltale warmth that foretells another hot August day. Even before the temple is open for visitors, anticipation hums through the air, the faint buzz as everyone prepares for the inevitable rush of petitioners.

Standing before the steps to the main temple, Master Lu looks out over the entire grounds with a smile. While the outside world has changed drastically in the past decades, within the temple, it is like being transported back in time; the same old tables from years past have already been set up, and the decorations, while not entirely the exact same as those used in centuries past, have all been remade in the original style.

In the fast-paced and ever-changing world, it is almost a sanctuary from time itself, where the tags of decades of visitors remain for an eternity and the history and traditions of the ancestors are preserved for future generations.

Well, at least in some ways more than others, if the influx of technology, and not just from forgetful visitors, is any indication.

He shakes his head, chuckling at his own preoccupation as he dodges young Master Zhao, juggling his attention between the pile of fortunes carried in his arms and the phone jammed under his ear. Clearly, he has begun to get overly sentimental in his old age.

Alas, yet another reminder of the inevitability of the passage of time.

The entry of visitors, a veritable tsunami of petitioners all looking to arrive early, interrupts his thoughts and he turns his attention to them, casting an experienced eye over the crowd. As usual, the vast majority make a beeline straight for the table for the star of wisdom, drawn as ever to the promise of good scores and success. Young couples make their way to the table for marriage fortunes, fresh-eyed and smitten with each other. And others still filter towards the other tables, for peace and wealth and…

And safety.

He spots the small family almost as soon as they pass through the gates, though they are admittedly hard to miss. The man and woman walk arm in arm, slow and cautious against the crush of the people around them, his form shifting to act as a barrier to shield her against the worst of the crowd. The height of the man alone would have been enough to catch his attention, but it is accentuated by the tiny pigtailed girl riding on his shoulders, adding another head to their overall height. From her perch, she looks around with bright, curious eyes, a small hand pointing towards the main temple, and him.

Even across the distance, he can see the surprise and recognition flicker in the bright blue eyes that meet his, and he would not have been able to hide his grin even if he had tried. As it is, though, he does not try, instead stepping forward to meet them with a greeting.

“I don’t know if you remember us, but…”

He shakes his head, waving off the woman’s comment with a laugh. “I do.”

And of course he does. How could he not? They have matured, naturally, settling into one combined force rather than two beings still tumbling in each other’s orbits; her hair is longer now, pulled into a neat bun, and his more disheveled than he’s ever seen under the ministrations of toddler hands; but the same spirit, the same keen eyes and entwined fates, shine out from the pair, unique amongst the crowd of other visitors.

He grins. “Of course I do. After all, it’s not every day I draw two fortunes quite so complementary, and even more rare to have them be hung up together on the wishing tree like that.”

At that, she laughs as well, her cheeks reddening slightly, and pauses to shake her bangs out of her face. “Yes, well, you were right, and it all worked out in the end.” She turns to her husband with a playful look, elbowing him gently in the ribs. “Even if it did take the better part of another year.”

“That is on you just as much as it is on me. After all, it took you just as long to realize,” the man retorts, though, to his amusement, his ears flush a faint red, which only deepens when their daughter points them out in a chipper voice, one loud enough that several visitors nearby turn to glance at them.

From the mouth of babes…

“What brings you back? Not just to check on your old tags, no?”

Shooting him a grateful look for the subject change, the man shakes his head, a faint smile curling the edges of his mouth. “No, though it is an added bonus. We’ve come for a new prayer for safety.”

His wife nudges him again, though gentler this time, and with less vigor. “Two, remember?”

He laughs openly, an expression that makes him look years younger, as he drops a hand to the gentle swell of her abdomen. “It may be a little early for that, still. I think he at least needs to have an official name first.”

She wrinkles her nose at him before laughing in turn. “Fine, fine. We will just have to come back again in a year or two.”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

“Daddy!”

A comically dramatic wince flashes across the man’s face when his daughter leans over, her voice projecting with unerring precision directly into his ear, and his wife is left hiding her amusement with some difficulty.

“Too loud, baobei.”

The bright blue eyes widen in distress. “Sorry, Daddy!”

He chuckles, reaching up to clasp her small fist in his hand. “It’s okay, baobei. What is it?”

Squirming from her perch on his shoulders, she points towards the back of the temple, where a few decorated branches of the wishing tree can be seen hanging over the roof. “Big tree! ‘S pretty! Go see?”

He shakes his head. “Later, maybe. First we have to—”

“No! Go see!” She leans over until she is hanging directly in front of his eyes. “Daddy, please?”

The man glances at his wife, who shrugs, mouthing the word “softie” while still wearing that same huge grin, and he finds that he has to struggle to choke back his laugh before anyone notices.

Given the soft snort that reaches his ears, he only partly succeeds.

“All right, then. Let’s go. We can come back for a prayer of safety”—the man glances back down at his wife, a faint but wondering smile dancing on his lips—“or even two, later.” With a solemn expression, the man offers him a deep, respectful nod, one that he is not quick enough to wave away. “Thank you, Master.”

“Bye-bye!”

Laughing, he waves at the trio, watching as they slowly weave their way through the crowd towards the back of the temple. Even across that distance, he can feel the affection and respect they hold for each other, can see the connection they share, which have managed to catch his attention time and time again.

When they finally move out of sight, he turns back to the temple and the flood of other guests, making a mental note to keep an eye out for the little family in future years. Maybe he can take a small break from drawing marriage fortunes in favor of overseeing prayers for safety for a few years…

STOP NOW IF YOU DON’T WANT ANGST.

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The sky is still dark with storm clouds when they first dare venture back outside to examine the state of the temple. In some ways, it is almost a miracle; despite the weeks of heavy storms, accompanied by shrieking gales and large hail, Cloudbreak Temple and its inhabitants have been mostly unharmed, save for superficial damages, just in time for the summer festival. Still, the mood is quiet, solemn, as everyone sets to work, clearing away the fallen branches, discarding the broken shingles, and making room for the stations as best they can in the limited time they have.

Wandering over the grounds, Master Lu shakes his head. Summer storms are not uncommon in the mountains, but even in the many decades that he has spent at Cloudbreak Temple, he has never seen a storm like that one, lightning seeming to rent the sky in two and thunder shaking the foundations of the temple itself, where there was naught to do but to stay indoors and safe. They were truly fortunate that nobody was injured and that most of the damages can be repaired.

Unfortunately, not all of the temple has remained quite so intact.

Stopping at the edge of the courtyard, he sighs, casting his gaze over the mess. It does not come as a complete surprise, given the lashing of the rain or the howling of the wind, but that does not change the sorrow he feels at the destruction that greets his eyes. Where there was once a majestic, venerable camphor tree is now a tired, wizened old thing, bowing under its own weight in the weak hints of daylight. Fortune tags lay strewn amongst the branches that had once held them aloft, once vivid symbols of the future now simply dark red and brown patches against muddy green, that he has to pick his way around as he wanders further in, taking in all of the damage.

But there is no time to clean up the mess, not in his old age and with everything else that will be happening for the day, and the visitors will understand, have to understand. He shakes his head, feeling all of his many years pressing down on his shoulders, almost as though he is fighting the weight of all the fallen wishes themselves.

“Master Lu?”

He looks up at the familiar voice and smiles. Master Chen, arms full of red cords, stands in the entryway of the courtyard, his bright eyes filled with concern, and he suddenly finds himself wondering when they all got so young.

“What is it? Do you need my help with anything?”

The boy shakes his head. “No, we are almost finished. There are enough of us to finish and handle the visitors, since there likely will not be many so soon after the storm. If you want, I could help clean this area…”

He shakes his head again, this time with a more genuine smile. “No, you go on. They’ll be needing you in the main temple, I’m sure. I can work here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Chen nods, putting the new cords on the nearby table before giving him a small, formal bow. “Thank you. Then I leave this to you.”

He waves the kid away, chuckling slightly as he watches him turn and walk back to the main temple before turning his attention back to the courtyard and the scattered fortunes, the remembrances of years, or decades even, of hopes and dreams.

With another heavy sigh, he squats down, tossing some fallen branches aside before picking up the wooden fortune at his feet. It is old, the carved text worn down by the elements, and he runs his fingers over the inscription, a brief statement on the virtues of hard work. A student had hung it there, once upon a time, and he closes his eyes for a moment, hoping that they achieved their goals, before tucking it into his robes and continuing forward.

In some ways, it is almost a walk down memory lane. Prayers to the star of wisdom from students that have long since graduated, who may even be teachers and professors now. Prayers for safety for people who have moved beyond that point, who may have even already passed. Marriage fortunes, ones that he helped distribute and interpret, for young couples that are now parents or even grandparents of their own…

He stumbles to a stop, staring down at the ground by his feet. Lying in the grass, so hidden by mud that he almost missed them, are two wooden cards. Their surfaces are almost entirely obscured by the dirt, but he still recognizes them instantly, the pair of fortunes so opposite to each other, so perfectly complementary. Held to the branch and each other by a red cord that has split and frayed under the years, no doubt hastened by the tempest.

Heaving another sigh, he leans over and…

“Master?”

Caught off-guard he snaps upright, turning around with a polite refusal on the tip of his tongue, but his instincts, ever reliable, stay his reply as the appearance of the visitor sinks in.

Dressed in dark, muted colors, he is easy to overlook, blending into his surroundings, into any crowd, with little effort. His face is drawn, haggard, lines of exhaustion etched into his skin, making him look years older, while his dark hair is disheveled, streaked with gray. Altogether, the man in the entryway, tired and worn, is almost unrecognizable from the young, joyous father of his memory. In just the few years since he last visited, he has aged a decade, his strong, confident form now frail, once bright azure eyes now dimmed, haunted.

And the man approaches, moving forward with slow, hesitant steps, eyes fixed on the tags he holds in his hand.

“That… Is that…?”

The voice nearly breaks around those few words, hoarse and almost inaudible, but he doesn’t need to hear the rest of the question, doesn’t need an explanation to know what the man wants, to know what must have happened.

Closing his eyes, he bows his head. “Yes. It is. They must have fallen during the storm.”

He hears a labored, shuddering breath, one that makes his own chest tighten in sympathy. “I… May I?”

“Of course.” He steps forward, gently placing the tags into his outstretched hands, watching as trembling fingers brush over the faded markings, the broken cord, as the pale face twists with fresh pain. “I…” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Daddy?”

They both turn at the same time, where a small girl stands in the entryway of the courtyard, holding the hand of an older woman as she cradles a bundle in her other arm. Pulling free of the restraining grasp, she runs forward to join them, grabbing her father’s free hand. “Daddy?”

Something resembling a smile tugs at the corners of the man’s lips as he squats to his daughter’s eye level. “What is it, baobei?”

“Are you sad?”

The sound that leaves the man’s throat is more of a rasp than a chuckle, but neither of them seem to notice. “Yes.” He wraps an arm around the girl, lifting her into the air as he stands back up. “Yes, I am.”

To his surprise, the girl only nods solemnly before looking at the tags in his hand. “What is that?”

The man sighs, holding it up so she can examine it more closely, running her small fingers over the wood as he wipes away the mud. “Mama and I came here years ago and hung it up when we were here. Before you were even born.”

“Oh. It’s pretty.” A slight frown on her face, she studies the fortunes and the cord linking them before raising her gaze. “Do you miss Mama?”

He has to shift his gaze away as the smile on the man’s face crumbles, turning his attention back to the mess of branches and fortune tags, but even so, he cannot escape hearing the slight hitch in the quiet voice. “Every day.”

She sniffles, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder. “Me too.”

“Anthea!” The older woman reaches them, her face a mix of concern and frustration, and he can’t help but turn his attention back to the family. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think she would be so quick.”

The man shakes his head as she reaches for the girl, instead shifting her position in his arms. “It’s fine, Ma. Besides, you have enough on your hands. And you’ve done more than enough for us now.”

“Still…”

“Ma.” The man closes his eyes, gently shaking his head, before meeting her gaze with a determination that even he can feel, that makes him tear his gaze away once more, feeling vaguely like he is eavesdropping. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I…” A sigh that hangs in the air between them. “I need to do this. For her. But thank you for… for everything. And…”

A hand suddenly appears in his vision and he looks up to find the man before him, standing up straighter with a mix of sorrow and resolve dancing on his features. “I don’t know if you remember me, but…”

He shakes his head. “I do. Still.”

“Of course.” A small but genuine smile cracks his mouth as the man draws a deep breath. “I… I remember you said once that fortunes should be returned to the temple once they’ve come true and…” He swallows once, hard. “Can you put these back for me?”

“Yes, certainly.” He reaches for them, hand closing back around the fortunes that the man holds out.

Two little wooden tags have never felt so heavy in his palm before.

For a moment, the man stares at them, as though in his hands, in these fragile pieces of wood, he carries all the weight of the world, before tearing his gaze away to meet his. “Thank you.”

Oddly enough, when he opens his mouth, he finds a sudden lump in his throat and instead of trying to speak, he only inclines his head, but it is enough. The man smiles again, a soft, ephemeral expression, before turning and walking away, still carrying his daughter while his mother paces alongside him with his son in her arms.

As he watches them leave, he brushes his thumb over the worn fortunes he cradles, gently tracing the text that he still remembers like it had been drawn yesterday.

It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.

Leaving the courtyard, he silently enters the main temple, ignoring the questioning looks from his fellow masters and visitors alike as he sets the tag, still tied to its partner with muddy red cord, down amongst the various other fortunes of years past, and sits back on his heels, reading it over one last time.

And so it is.

#Tears of Themis #weiding shijian bu #Artem Wing #Zuo Ran #Artem Wing/MC #Zuo Ran/MC #Tina writes stuff. #Tina plays ToT. #sweet awkward lawyer husband #otp: to have and to hold #It's been a Hot Minute since I've written character death angst. #Ho boy that was a lot.

[codenamesazanka]

Warning: Rant, character bashing, lots of opinions

I'm saying it outright. I hate Deku. He is entirely underwhelming as a character, much less as the main character, the shonen protagonist of the series.

It's a 'different' type of dislike, though. I feel like I could've like his character. There's nothing greatly disagreeable about him, he's as inoffensive as can be, he's an optimistic, considerate, and polite boy, he's as plain as he is said to be, and that's fine.

My issue is that he's not the character he's said to be. I, personally, just don't buy that he "possesses a drive to save others that eclipses all common understanding", or that he's super intelligent with great analytical abilities that he actually applies on the battlefield, or, in general, he's as amazing or heroic or compassionate as he's apparently supposed to be. How can he be inspiring if he barely challenges any aspects of the society he lives in. Deku is a super good example of the terrible use of "Tell, Don't Show". We're told about his amazing traits, but he rarely follows through; when we do see hints of it, it's lauded but frankly I think it's typical behavior and (this though is not quite his fault) written so stiffly and awkwardly I'm not convinced.

(Honestly I might even call him a Canon Mary Sue. He has no interesting or distinguishable flaws, unless having a shit for brains attitude is one but that's not acknowledged by the narrative. Breaking bones is not a personality trait. If he has a Hero Complex, it's not even the interesting ones where he fucks things up even more; or carries crippling guilt about circumstances beyond his control; or focuses completely on saving people to the point of rejecting almost all human connections and keeping deadly secrets - which is All Might's big flaw.) (Well fair, he does this in the most recent chapter but did it need to take 300+ chapters? Plus I sense the way it's framed is that it's the radical, but right course of action.)

Say what you want about Villains and redemption/shouldn't be redeemed/too evil to be saved/justice/etc, but I think this 'Incredible Drive To Save' should've included Villains from the start. Why does Deku want to "Save people with a smile on his face"? Assuming it's empathy, he should have felt some towards everyone he encounters, whether it's sensible or not. "Why are you so angry?", "You shouldn't go about things this way", "What caused them to be like this?", "Why is there evil in the world?" even. I'm still fuming over his Mall Encounter with Shigaraki, where Shigaraki pretty much reveals his damage: "All Might acts like there's no one he can't save"; but ultimately Deku goes "Wow, that sure is an opinion."

What kind of inane response is this??? There's little pushback from the narrative either, so this isn't pointed out as a failing of his (because, again, he has no big flaws). And he's supposed to be smart and caring. Yes, he does ask All Might right after the Mall Encounter, "Was there anyone you can't save?"; but essentially the replies he gets is "Don't worry about it" and Deku immediately largely puts it out of his mind "Oh whew, I was about to do some introspection and reflection". There isn't even the daunting, kinda-existential anxiety that people get when they realize it's impossible to save/help everyone - which is something, like, medical workers have to learn to deal with - that sharp sense of the inevitably of death, of loss, failure, guilt. I'm not asking for him to come to the conclusion that everyone should be saved - he could've decided nah, Shigaraki is too ugly to be saved and I would've been fine with that, it's part of the character role and potential development - just that he should've had a conclusion at all.

There are the latest chapters where Deku decides he wants to try saving Shigaraki first (though killing him is still on the table), true. Him wanting to save Shigaraki after seeing AFO merged with him, after seeing The Crying Child - but see, I don't think it qualifies because I think it's the bare minimum about of consideration, the typical response to seeing the body horror of warped, fused flesh, to seeing a small sad little boy. I think it shouldn't require "You look like you needed saving" for a true Hero to consider saving someone. Not for someone who is supposed to be unique and special in this regard.

*

I've complained about this before, but the trouble with Deku was evident from the very beginning.

Again, Deku wants to save people with a smile on his face, and again, I’m assuming it’s empathy. We're shown this on the very first page, as he attempts to protect a friend(?) from bullies, but imo like it felt groundless because who was the kid he was protecting? We never see him again. Did Deku's standing up to Bakugou work, and the kid was saved? Or did they both got beaten up; but afterwards, being the kind boy Deku is supposed to be, he still gets to his feet to help the boy, to apologize for failing.

But more significantly, this theme of saving was overshadowed immediately by his focus on superpowers - that he was quirkless. Next page, his focus was on ‘Woah, giant villain and superpowers!’ Instead of like. Helping people. (Though I chalk this up to early installment weirdness)

What should’ve happened if the theme was ‘SAVE PEOPLE’ Is something like: The opening sentence being “People are not born equal. This is the harsh truth I learned when I was four. I knew that... but despite my powerless, I still wanted to help. That was my first and last setback.” And the panels/images themselves (of little Katsuki and his friends) implies that people on the world thinks you need power to help people.

When he saw the villain attack on way to school, Deku can be wow’ed by the spectacle! But then he notices a kid crying and offers to help find his mom. He can be interrupted by a Hero saying he (the hero) will take over, he can find the mom and realize he’s late for school (and so that shows he’s willing to sacrifice something of his to help others! Because of his altruistic nature!). A scene like that, of him helping the lost kid, we would know that he wants to help *anyone*. At school, though, he still gets bullied for not having powers. So he’s mulling over that when he meets All Might, and asks the question.

It proceeds as usual for the next few events: When the sludge monster attacks Katsuki, he can still go gawk at the scene. He can still hesitate. In canon, it's only when he realized the victim was his friend that he jumps into action, which I thinks undermines the theme of 'wanting to save indiscriminately'. IMO, it would've been better that Deku sees it’s his friend, but he still hesitates. “There’s nothing I can do right? All Might himself said so...” But when he sees Katsuki’s *face* of fear, he runs to help. Instead of seeming like he helps only because he realizes it’s his friend, he helps because he feels too deeply about trying to save Katsuki.

Admittedly these are minor, personal critiques; but all in all, the first chapter fails to establish Deku is the willpowered, champion of wanting to save people he's supposed to be.

--Which is fine, if it's acknowledged in the story later, that maybe he wasn't the True Blue Hero he's supposed to be at first, but he can change and still become one. But it's not - Deku is apparently special, without anything special to show for it.

*

I read the one-shot "My Hero" - the prototype for this series - that Horikoshi published years ago, before My Hero Academia was created. I also found it underwhelming, but that was due to personal tastes (I wanted more explosions and dumb violence); as a story on it's own merit, the logic and progression was solid.

The Villains Heroes fought were 'Aberrations' - true inhuman monsters that showed no sentience that would eat people - so the focus could be solely on saving humans. The main character - Jack Midoriya - his original goal was less 'save people' and more 'become a cool hero', before learning that saving people is what true heroism is about, hero license unneeded. (Moreover, he really did 'save' someone without being a hero - by working hard, he was preventing the company from becoming ruined completely, which the CEO had confessed and thanked him for. )

This version of Midoriya didn't exactly needed deep empathy or compassion for that, just a strong willpower, which he effectively demonstrated by chasing after a childhood dream even as an adult salaryman in a tanking company, even though he had anemia and no training and no license. He insisted on this, to the point of getting hurt by being dumb, of being petty over someone dissing the Hero who inspired him in the first place, of skipping out of work and going vigilante. Not the most upstanding guy, but he came through in the relevant themes of the story, in being the character the story needed him to be.

Jack Midoriya was an unimpressive, weird-looking, weak, pitiful, somewhat selfish, awkward salaryman with no great aspects that 'eclipses all common understanding'. But he was a far stronger character than his incarnation Izuku Midoriya could ever be (so far).

#rant #nalslastworkingbraincell #character bashing #negativity #warning #I hope these tags are enough #:P

[c-is-for-circinate]

I'd love to hear more of your thoughts about why P5R didn't quite land for you. I had the same reaction to it, but I've never quite been able to properly articulate why the last section fell so flat.

God okay so I've tried several times to answer this, and it seems like the answer is 'I still have way too many feelings, personally, to say this in anything less than thirty pages and fifteen hours of work', because Persona 5 the original is a game I loved a lot and care about a great deal. And most of the reasons I disliked Royal feel, in my head, like a list of ways it broke some of the things I liked best about P5--which means explaining them feels like I need to explain everything I loved about the original game, which is a book in itself, complete with referents to P3, P4, Jungian psychology, the Joseph Campbell mytharc, and fuck all even knows what. And that is too much.

But today I realized that I could instead describe it from an angle of, Persona 5 Strikers succeeds really well at doing the thing I think Royal was trying to do but failed at. And that I think I can talk about in a reasonable amount of wordspace, hopefully, behind this cut because I have at least one friend who hasn't played Royal yet.

Note for reblogs/comments: I HAVE NOT FINISHED STRIKERS YET. I got through the jail that pretended to be the final jail and have not yet gone into the obviously inevitable 'ohshit wait, you mean there's something more than simple human machinations behind all of this?' dungeon. (I got stuck on a really frustrating side quest, put the game down, and then dived into Hades to avoid throwing the Switch across the room for a while--and anyone around this blog lately knows how THAT'S been going.) Please no spoilers past Okinawa!

So, one of the many, many things I really appreciated about Persona 5 was its straightforward and unashamed attitude towards abusers and their acts of violence. Because, while yes P5 is a story about the use of power and control to make others suffer, it fundamentally isn't about those abusers themselves. It's about their victims, those that survive their crimes. And this shows up repeatedly over the course of the game.

We do not give a shit why Kamoshida wanted to beat and rape his students. We really don't. Kamoshida does not deserve our attention one moment longer than it takes to make him stop. Because, ultimately, that's the goal of P5, start to end. We don't know for sure if what we're doing is fair, if it's justice, if it's questionable. What we know is that people are being hurt, badly, actively, right now this second. What we know is that victims are suffering. What we know is that we, personally, us-the-protag and us the Phantom Thieves at large, are in danger. And in those circumstances, we don't care about the abuser's side any more. We don't. We don't have the space or time or capacity to care, because that is not the point.

The point is to help the weak. To save the people who need saving, right here and now. To give others the courage to stand up on their own behalf. We're not even out to change society, not really--that's a byproduct. We are reactions. We are triage. We are important.

There's something so empowering and validating about that as a theme, y'know? In a media landscape so full of "sympathetic villains", the idea that, you know, maybe sometimes you don't have to break yourself to show compassion that might possibly heal the bad guy--that sometimes you can just make the bad guy stop hurting people--feels both refreshing and satisfying. I really appreciate it as a message! I liked it a lot!

And yes, there's nuance to that theme, and the game is not without compassion. We save Futaba, because 'make the bad guy stop hurting people', in that case, means 'make this person stop hurting herself'. We give Sae a path forwards, help her fix her own heart. Yet it's worth pointing out that in both of those cases, while we were very glad to do those things, to save those people, we also went into both of those palaces for extremely practical reasons to begin with. We needed Futaba's help. We needed Sae's help. The fact that we chose to talk Sae into a change of heart rather than simply stealing her treasure, while ultimately a very good thing for her, was absolutely a practical choice predicated on the need for her palace to still exist to save our life. And yes, we wanted to save her, for Makoto's sake--yes, we wanted desperately to save Futaba. But Sae and Futaba let themselves be helped, too, and that doesn't change the overarching themes of the story itself.

Akechi (and to some extent Okumura) would not let himself be helped. Akechi's another interesting nuance to this theme, because of all our villains, we do learn the most about what drove him to the cruelties and crimes he's committed. He's at that intersection of victim and villain, and we want to help him, as a victim--but we also know that stopping him as a villain is more important. We'd like to save him from himself if we could, because we save people from their sources of trauma, it's what we do. We regret being unable to do so. But in the end, what matters to the story is not that Akechi refused to be saved--it's that Shido and Yaldabaoth need to be stopped, for the sakes of everyone else they're hurting now and may continue to hurt in the future.

The thing is, there's space and maybe even a need for a corollary discussion of those places where victim and villain intersect. It's an interesting, pertinent, and related topic. Strikers made an entire video game about it, a really good video game. It's centered in the idea that, yes, these people need to be stopped, and we will make stopping them our priority--but they're not going after us, and that gives us some space to sympathize. Even for Konoe, who specifically targets the Phantom Thieves--compare him to Shido, who actively destroyed the lives of both Joker and Futaba, who ordered Haru's father's death, who's the entire reason the team is still dealing with the trauma of Akechi's everything. Of course the game can be sympathetic to Konoe where it can't with Shido. There's enough distance to do that.

But right--Strikers is a separate game. It's a separate conversation. It's, "last time, we talked about that, so now let's take it one step further." And that's good writing. (It's something Persona has done before, too, also really well! Persona 3 is about terrible, occasionally-suicidal depression and grief. P4 is about how you can still be hurting and need some help and therapy even if things seem ok. Related ideas, but separate conversations that need to be separate in order to be respectful and do justice to either one. P5, as a follow-up to P4, is a conversation about how, ok, changing yourself is great and all, but sometimes the problem is other people so how do you deal with that? Again, still related! Still pertinent! Still alluded to in P4, with Adachi's whole thing--but it wasn't the time or place to base a quarter of the game around it.)

So one of Royal's biggest issues, to me, is that it tries to tack on this whole new angle for discussion onto a game that was originally about something else.

Adding Maruki's palace--adding it at the end, which by narrative laws suggests that it's the true point that everything else should be building up to--suddenly adds in about a hundred new dimensions at once. It wants us to engage with "what in this abuser/manipulator's life led him to act this way?" for basically the first time all game (we'll get to Akechi later). It wants us to engage with, "if the manipulator has a really good reason or good intentions, does that mean we should forgive them?" It requires us to reflect on, "what is the difference between control and cruelty?" It asks, "okay, but if people could be controlled into being happy, would that be okay?" (Which, based on the game so far, is actually a wild out-there hypothetical! Literally not a single thing we've seen in the game suggests that could ever happen. Even the people who think being controlled is safer and easier are miserable under it. Control that's able to lead to actual happiness is completely out of left field in the context of everything we've encountered all game so far.)

That's too much! We don't have time to unpack all that! We only have an eighth of the game left! Not to mention we are also being asked to bring back questions we put to bed much earlier in the game about the morality of our own actions, in a wholely unsatisfying way. Maruki attempts to justify his mass brainwashing because "it's the same as what you're doing", and we know it isn't, but the game didn't need Maruki calling it out in order for us to get that. We already faced that question when we started changing hearts, and again several times throughout the game, and again when we found our targets in Yaldabaoth's cells. The fact that we change hearts does not mean we think "changing hearts is fine and kind and should be done to everyone, actually." Changing hearts has been firmly established in this game as an act of violence, acceptable only because it prevents further systemic violence against innocents that we must prevent. The moral question has never once been about whether it's ok to change the hearts of the innocent, only about how far it's ethical to go against individuals who are actively hurting other people. Saying "you punched that guy to keep him from shooting a child, so punching people is good and I will save the world by punching everyone!" is confusing! and weird! and not actually at all helpful to the question of, how much violence is it acceptable to use to protect others! So presenting the question that way just falls really flat.

(And right, I love Strikers, because Strikers has time to unpack all that. Strikers can give us a main bad guy who wants to control the whole world for everybody's own good, because Strikers has earned that thematic climax. It has given us sympathetic bad guys who started out wanting to control the world to protect themselves and ended up going too far. It's given us Mariko Hyodo, who wanted to control the world to protect other people and went too far. It's given us a long-running thread about police, the desire to serve, and the abuse of power that can lead to. And since we are actively trying to care for the people whose hearts we're changing in Strikers, we can open the door to questions about using changes-of-heart and that level of control to make other people happy. We can even get a satisfying conclusion out of that discussion, because we have space to characterize the difference--Konoe thinks that changing peoples' hearts means confining them, but the Phantom Thieves think it means setting them free. We have seen enough sympathetic villains that we as an audience have had the space to figure out how we feel about that, and to understand the game's perspective of "stop them AND save them, if we can possibly do both." And that message STILL rests firmly on Persona 5's message of "it is Good to do what you have to do to stop an abuser so long as you don't catch innocent people in your crossfire.")

It's worth noting that the general problem of 'asking way too many new questions and then not answering them' also applies to how Royal treats its characters, too. P5 did have unanswered questions left at the end! The biggest one, and we all knew this, was Akechi, and what actually happened to him, and how we should feel about him, and how he felt about us. That was ripe for exploring in our bonus semester, and to Royal's credit they did in fact try to bring it up, but by god did they fuck up doing it.

Akechi's probable death in the boiler room was absolutely the biggest dangling mystery of the game. It was an off-screen apparent death of a key antagonist, so all of the narrative rules we know suggested that he might still be alive and would probably come back if the story went on for long enough. So when Royal brings him back on Christmas Eve, hey, great! Question answered. Except that the situation is immediately too good to be true, and immediately leads to another mystery, which leads to a flat suspicion that something must be wrong. We spend several hours of gameplay getting sly hints that, oooh, maybe he's not really alive after all, before it's finally confirmed by Maruki: yup, he really died, if we end the illusion we'll kill him too. Okay, at least we know now. Akechi is alive right now and he's going to be dead if we do this, and that doesn't make a ton of sense because every other undead person disappeared when the person who wished for them realized they were fake but at this point we'll take it. So we take down Maruki, and okay, Akechi really is dead! Probably! We're fairly sure! Aside from our lingering doubts!

And then we catch a glimpse of maybe-probably-could be him through the train window, and I just want to throw something, because come on.

Look, it is just a fact of storytelling: the more times you make an audience ask 'wait, is this character dead or aren't they?', the less they will care, until three or four reversals later you will be hard pressed to find anybody who gives a shit. Royal does this like four different times, and every iteration comes with even less certainty than the last. By the end, we somehow know even less than we did when we started! Did Akechi survive the boiler room to begin with and Maruki just didn't know? Or was Maruki lying to try and manipulate us further? Or was he actually dead and then his strength of will when Maruki's reality dissolved was enough to let him survive after all? Is that even actually him out the train window?

Where is he going! What is he doing! How did any of this happen! What is going on! We all had these questions about Akechi at the end of the original P5, and the kicker is that Royal pretends like it's going to answer them only to go LOL JK NO. It's frustrating and it's dissatisfying and it annoys me.

The one Akechi question that Royal doesn't even bother to ask, though, let alone leave ambiguous, is how does the protagonist feel about him? The entire emotional weight of the third semester rests on the protagonist caring about Akechi, Sumire, and Maruki. Maruki's the person we're supposed to sympathize with even as we try to stop him. Sumire's the person we're trying to save from herself. And Akechi is our bait--is, we are told, the one thing our protagonist wished for enough to actualize it in this world himself. Akechi's the final lure to accept Maruki's deal. Akechi's survival is meant to be tempting.

For firm Akechi fans, this probably worked out fine--the game wanted to insist that the protagonist cared for Akechi the same way the player did. For those of us who're a little more ambivalent, though (or for the many and valid people who hated him), this is a super sour note. Look, one of the Persona series' strengths is the way it lets players choose to put their time and emotional investment into an array of different characters, so the main story still has weight even if there's a couple you don't care about that much. It has always done this. The one exception, from P3 all the way through P4 to here and now, is Nanako Dojima, and by god she earned that distinction. I have never met a person who played Persona 4 who didn't love Nanako. Nanako is a neglected six-year-old child who is brave and strong enough to take care of herself and all of the housework but who still tries not to cry when her dad abandons her again and lights up like the sun when we spare her even the tiniest bit of time and attention. It is impossible not to care for Nanako. Goro Akechi is not Nanako.

And yet third semester Royal doesn't make sense if your protagonist doesn't feel linked to Akechi. The one question, out of all the brand new questions Royal throws out there, that it decides to answer all by itself--and it's how you as a player and your protagonist ought to feel about an extremely complex and controversial character. What the fuck, Royal. What the fuck.

In conclusion, I'll leave you with this. I played the original Persona 5 in March and April of 2017, as an American, a few months after the 2016 election and into the term of our then president. It felt painfully timely. A quick calendar google early on indicated that the game's 20XX was almost certainly 2016, and the closer our plot got to the in-game November leadup to an election destined to be dominated by a foul and charming man full of corruption and buoyed up by his own cult of personality, the more I wanted to laugh/cry. It felt timely. It felt important. It felt right.

I went through Royal (in LP form on youtube, not having a platform to play it on) in summer of 2020, with a hook full of face masks by my front door and protests about racial tension and local policing that occasionally turned into not-quite-riots close enough to hear at night if I opened the windows of my apartment. The parts of the game that I remembered felt as prescient and meaningful as ever, if not even more so. The new parts felt baffling. Every single evil in the game felt utterly, painfully real, from the opening moments of police brutality to the idea of a country led by a guy who probably would use his secret illegitimate teenage son as a magical assassin if the opportunity presented itself and he thought he could get away with it. Yaldabaoth as the cumulative despair of an entire population who just wanted somebody to take over and make things be okay--yes, yes, god, in summer of 2020? With streets full of people refusing to wear masks and streets full of people desperate for change? Of course. Of course that holy grail of safety should be enticing. Of course it should be terrifying.

And then Maruki. Maruki, who was just so far outside the scope of anything I could relate to the rest of the game or my own life. Because every single other villain in the rest of Persona is real. From the petty pandering principal to the human-trafficking mob boss. The corrupt politicians and the manmade god of cultural desire for stability. And this game was trying to tell me that the very biggest threat of all of them, the thing that was worse than the collective force of all society agreeing to let this happen because succumbing was easier than fighting back--that the very biggest threat of all was that the world could be taken over by some random nobody's misguided attempts to help?

No. Fuck no. I don't buy it. Because god, yes, I have seen the pain and damage done on a tiny and personal and very real level by the tight-fisted control of someone trying to help, it never looked like this. Not some ascended god of a bad therapist. All the threats to the world, and that's the one I'm supposed to take seriously? This one man is more of a threat than the fundamental human willingness to be controlled?

Sorry, but no. Not for me. Not in this game. Not in this real-life cyberpunk dystopian apocalypse.

#c plays persona #driveby meta attack #p5 royal spoilers #p5 strikers spoilers #holy crap I did it #I actually wrote a semicoherent essay of a length I'm willing to put on Tumblr #about my problems with this game #I have been trying on and off for MONTHS #I wanted to like Royal SO BADLY #it makes me SO UPSET #anyway #now back to your regularly scheduled Hades blogging #asked and answered #Anonymous

[lastsonlost]

The star begins a libel trial against a U.K. tabloid that called him a "wife beater." No matter the verdict, he's destined to lose.

If there's a single word to describe Johnny Depp's status at the moment, I'd go with zugzwang, which chess aficionados know to be the moment when a player basically gets cornered into making a move that will inevitably lead to an even more inferior position. On Tuesday, the star actor appeared in a London courtroom to take on the U.K. publisher of The Sun for characterizing him as a "wife beater" in the print edition of an April 27, 2018, online article.  Unfortunately for Depp, it seems to be a defamation trial that's a no-win situation.

Depp appears to think that success is achievable at a proceeding that will last several weeks and feature all sorts of inside details about his life plus celebrity friends including Paul Bettany and Winona Ryder. Depp is claiming that during his tumultuous marriage to Amber Heard between 2015 through 2017, he didn't actually throw a phone at her, slap her across the face, and grab her by the hair, as she once testified in a deposition during one of the nastiest divorces in Hollywood history. Perhaps Depp will play audio tapes in an effort to claim his ex-wife was the abusive one in this stormy relationship. It won't matter because there's really no reversing the damage that Depp has incurred these past few years.

That should have become obvious on June 26 when it was revealed that Disney was working on a new Pirates of the Caribbean, this time featuring a female-fronted cast led by Margot Robbie. In other words, at the exact moment when a U.K. judge was deciding on whether to actually proceed with Depp's libel suit after the actor's attorneys breached a court order by failing to turn over a series of text messages concerning the procurement of drugs, Depp may have lost his most lucrative role. A source tells The Hollywood Reporter that Jerry Bruckheimer would like to at least nod to the popularity of the Captain Jack Sparrow character in the coming film if the controversies die down, but at this point, Disney is resistant. Depp is too controversial. (Disney didn’t respond for comment.)

So Depp will pursue a favorable verdict and a nominal damages award from a trial that's playing out under English defamation standards — in other words, where the burden of truth is on the news publisher to establish rather than Depp. Meanwhile, over the next few weeks, amid an international pandemic, Depp will surely incur additional reputational harm from these prying court proceedings, the impetus for which was a column questioning J.K. Rowling's defense of Depp being cast in the adaptation of her book Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. It's hard to sue one's way out of controversy.

Given this situation, it's no wonder Hollywood insiders are increasingly puzzled over Depp's moves. I spoke to several industry attorneys and publicists, all of whom offered some variation on the theme that the public would likely have forgotten Depp's years-old troubles but for court actions that keep reminding everyone.

“One of the things you’re always balancing is, how do you respond to accusation? Do you add more fuel to the fire or let it dissipate?” asks Howard Bragman, a longtime crisis manager in the entertainment industry.

Says Neville Johnson, an attorney who has previously brought suits against tabloids but questions the star plaintiff's wisdom here: “Depp doesn’t need the money [from any damages award] and it is not going to enhance his reputation.”

***

How did Depp find himself at the point of zugzwang? More and more, one has got to question Depp's reliance on attorney Adam Waldman. Depp has many attorneys, and the others seem to be the ones actually doing the hard work in court, but Waldman has become Depp's mouthpiece and also looks to be the lawyer who has emerged as the star's svengali of sorts.

Who is Waldman?

A search on Google (where he referred this reporter instead of agreeing to an interview) yields some clues, though hardly anything definitive. Unlike most attorneys, Waldman maintains no bio page these days. A few years back, Waldman's D.C.-based Endeavor Group did have a working website, but no longer. A trip to the Internet Archive reveals that Waldman once took credit for overseeing "all corporate aspects" of the landmark antitrust trial United States v. Microsoft, being the "principal architect of several ground-breaking initiatives" including the Center for Global Development, and even predicting the 2009 financial crisis with a "seminal law review article" authored all the way back in 1993. That would be when he was a student at American University, which did indeed confirm his graduation in 1995.

Waldman, according to reputable press reports, seems to have been involved in various dealings with the Kremlin, Russian oligarch Oleg Deripaska, and Wikileaks founder Julian Assange. He had a lucrative ($40,000 per month) lobbying contract with Deripaska, was registered as an agent for the Russian government, visited Assange nine times in one year at the Ecuadorian embassy in London, apparently in connection with efforts to strike a deal with the DOJ, and more. His associations have become fodder for intrigue among reporters and lawmakers even if there’s a lack of public evidence of anything more than Waldman having a talent for landing recurring, if minor, roles in real-life Russian political dramas.

I'd say that Waldman's foray on the periphery of the industry hardly matters, except that it appears Depp is publicly burning bridges with the sort of abandon that one hardly ever sees among big Hollywood stars. Depp's recent legal pursuits include battling his former money managers over the disposition of hundreds of millions of dollars; splitting with longtime transactional attorney Jake Bloom; and, of course, continuing to face off against Heard again and again and again, including in a separate defamation suit against her over an op-ed she wrote for The Washington Post. That latter case is currently scheduled for trial in Virginia in January 2021.

That's a lot of legal work, and Waldman appears to have taken on a central role. As Stephen Rodrick put it in an often-cited Rolling Stone article, "Waldman seems to have convinced Depp that they are freedom fighters taking on the Hollywood machine rather than scavengers squabbling over the scraps of a fortune squandered."

Waldman is also conducting a public experiment on social media. In a nutshell, do tactics of preaching to a choir of a small number of Twitter accounts achieve anything outside of politics? Most attorneys don't pick fights with the media during a big case, particularly in the weeks before trial. Not Waldman. For weeks, he's been goading reporters at The New York Times who apparently are investigating him, and he's been whipping his followers into a frenzy with attacks on Rodrick, Variety ("Saudi Arabia's Variety"), THR ("too much corruption") and other journalists and news publications. (That said, Waldman may not be above going to his own favored media outlets. Depp's attorneys have been accused in court papers of leaking to outlets like The Blast, which seems to be to Depp what Fox News is to Trump.) He's also litigating on Twitter, presenting evidence procured from Depp's cases, and overall, exhibiting highly unusual behavior for a working attorney.

To what end? That one is very hard to answer. But if anyone in Hollywood is ready to take on "fake news," the ticket of Depp-Waldman should be deemed real contenders.

***

In the era of #MeToo, allegations of misconduct get attention — and deservedly so — but some newsrooms have traditionally made a distinction between behavior in the workplace and domestic conduct, with the latter being perceived as tabloid fodder. This time, though, an ugly divorce proceeding has transformed into something quite more.

Alas, the trial of John Christopher Depp II v. News Group Newspapers Ltd has now begun.

On July 7, Depp himself took the witness stand and accused Heard of being sociopathic, a narcissist, and completely emotionally dishonest. He insisted her "sick" claims of abuse are untrue. And in opening statements, his attorney David Sherborne said, "This is not a case about money. It is about vindication."

Depp, in fighting a battle against an unflattering headline, is merely going to draw more attention to The Sun's accusation that he's a "wife beater," especially once Heard gets on the witness stand. At the end of it all, no matter the verdict, this trial will likely do nothing to tamp down the controversies that have tarnished his career. He's elevated a tabloid columnist's random musing into something that's going to be covered by serious news outlets for weeks, months, years on end.

For that, Johnny Depp should regain his senses and fire his lawyers.

Vindication ain't possible. The damage is done. That's the only thing a successful libel claim shows.

__________

What kind of Weinstein bullshit is this?  So what, If he gives up on getting Justice for what hes been through Hollywood might throw him some crumbs? 

JUST SHUT UP AND SUFFER IN SILENCE!  ACCEPT THE LIES THAT WERE SPREAD ABOUT YOU! LET YOUR ABUSER WIN!

 I wonder if this clown would tell metoo victims not to get Justice?

#justiceforjohnnydepp

[cognacdelights]

steamboat springs

my outer banks masterlist

add yourself to my taglist

summary: after coming into a large sum of money, two teens in the midst of riding the wave of young love decide to blow their fortune on a once in a lifetime trip to the mountain winter resort of steamboat springs, colorado. 

warnings: swearing. angst. fluff. slight indication of sexual content. 

The tips of her scarlet-painted toes skimmed the lukewarm bubbles of the hot tub as her petite, bikini-clad frame perched on the varnished, wooden edge. Her rose gold, star charm anklet glistened under the dimmed, romantic fairy lights that encompassed the tall, pine wood canopy as her contemplating, chartreuse eyes observed the picturesque scenery before her; the towering, snow-topped peaks that entrapped the quaint, expensive mountain resort were breath-taking. Lined with an army of ancient, snow-sprinkled evergreens and littered with miles of meandering, frozen streams, the Colorado Mountains were truly a sight to behold. Yet, there was a relentless, incessant niggle that plagued her pensive mind - refusing to allow her peace and tranquility in possibly the most calming and serene of locations.

“What you thinking ‘bout, pretty girl?” the low, husky voice of her sandy-locked, indigo-eyed boyfriend drew her out of her pondering, wistful daze. His toned, half-naked body waded through the tepid, jet-powered waves as he demanded the attention of his long-term girlfriend. His warm, paw-like palms settled on the tops of her droplet-covered thighs - his slightly calloused thumbs tracing delicate, tender circles against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs - as he came to rest between her parted legs. He left a gentle, adoration-filled kiss against the hickey-marked skin of her inner thigh, ensuring that he had captured her whole, undivided attention.

“Maybe you should have paid off your restitution with that money, instead of blowing it all on this,” a heavily weighted exhale escaped her plump, rose-tinted lips - her glimmering, beryl eyes concentrating on his concern-laced features. Instinctively, she ran her dainty fingers through the damp, tousled tangles of his blonde, straw-like locks, pushing the unkempt waves from obstructing his chiselled face.

“What?” his anxious, sapphire orbs peered upwards through his fair, sparse eyelashes - his apprehensive heart anticipating the sickening plunge of disappointment into the deep, dark caverns of his stomach as he urged her to elaborate, “you don’t like it here?” All the fair-haired, cobalt-eyed boy yearned for was to see the beautiful, content smile - which he so very much adored - plastered across her sun-kissed features; everything he did was for the sake of her happiness - in all it’s purity, so the thought of her holding regrets towards their once-in-a-lifetime, never-be-able-to-afford-again trip pained him dearly.

“No, I do. I love it. It’s beautiful and I would give anything to leave the Outer Banks behind and stay here, forever, with you,” her voice softened at the heart-wrenching sight of anguish laced within the pearly, silver speckles of his eyes, “but I want you to be a free man more.” There was a negligible, minuscule sliver of her that resented him for taking the blame for the sinking of Topper’s boat; it had changed the course of their relationship entirely, and not particularly for the better. Not only had her strict, over-bearing parents proclaimed their disapproval of their relationship upon hearing tattling whispers of his arrest, but his selfless, fictitious confession meant that he would more than likely be sentenced to a stay in a juvenile corrections facility.

“It’s just a bit of debt, it doesn’t matter in the long run,” he half-heartedly attempted to dismiss her concerns - nonchalantly shrugging his broad, muscular shoulders as a disheartened breath escaped his nicotine-laced lungs.

“It’s a permanent charge on your record, JJ, and you could still face time in juvy for this,” she responded solemnly, “what am I supposed to do if you get locked up? Juvenile’s don’t get conjugal visits, you know?” The shaggy-haired blonde had neglected to think of the consequences of his actions upon declaring that he was the individual responsible for the Thornton’s boat shenanigans. However, the reality was, JJ Maybank had just checked off his third strike on his long, delinquency-filled wrap sheet - and the metaphorical book of justice was poised and ready to be launched in his direction as they spoke.

“And you’d rather that have been on Pope’s record, huh?” he countered opposingly - his usually loving, tender voice raised several decibels as he defended himself against his girlfriend’s disapproving tone, “it would ruin his life. Not to mention, we all know he would never survive inside. They’d fucking eat him alive.” The pleasant, endearing warmth she once felt where his wandering hands caressed the cellulite-plagued plains of her thighs dissipated into the brisk nipping of the bitter, wintry mountain breeze as he retreated from their intimate embrace.

“Pope’s the one who did it,” she mumbled in response, uncomfortable with the tone of their heated conversation. Unfortunately, this was just going to be one of those things that they would never agree on. She platonically adored Pope - truly, she did - but, of course, she loved her boyfriend more. It was inevitable that the selfish, pining sliver of her that believed Pope should take responsibility for his actions would rear it’s ill-timed head eventually. JJ didn’t deserve to be punished for a crime he, for once, had not committed - and neither did their already suffering relationship.

“Pope’s the one with the future. He’s got his scholarship, he’s got his whole life planned out, he has dreams that are actually within his reach. I couldn’t let that be taken away from him because of something I pushed him to do,” he continued to argue, his tone defensive and abrupt. As her crestfallen, veridian eyes attempted to meet with his, she recognised an unfamiliar emotion that had etched itself into the foundations of his chiselled, stubble-lined features: guilt. A conscience-eating tidal wave of remorse had overwhelmed his entire being, convincing his impressionable mind that the entirety of the situation was down to the shaggy-haired blonde. Perhaps he was right; perhaps Pope wouldn’t have acted so wildly out of character and pulled the plug from the extravagant 2019 Malibu without the misguided encouragement of his trouble-making best friend - but, simultaneously, she was right. At the end of the day, Pope was the one who ultimately committed the delinquent act, and Pope did that off his own culpable accord.

“What about your future?” she challenged him, the desperation evident within the subtle inflections of her almost pleading tone. Her tanned, petite shoulders slouched from their structured, upright position - as her head tilted ever so slightly to the side, her malachite doe eyes searching for his torment-filled pools of teal. Despite her best, relenting efforts, he refused the intimacy of eye contact.

“I don’t have a future,” his voice was quiet - almost weak - and barely audible above the ceaseless, mechanical humming of the hot tub jets, “not one like that.”

“Yes you do,” she told him tenaciously - adamant in her words as her tender, dainty palms embraced the defined contours of his pronounced cheek bones, her gentle thumbs affectionately grazing over the brittle stubble, “you have a future with me. I don’t know what that entails; whether it’s opening our own surf shop down in Yucatán, or having a log cabin in the Colorado Mountains, or living on a freaking boat in the harbour back in Kildare. Whatever it is, I don’t care as long as it’s me and you. It’s me and you, forever, J. It always has been and it always will be.”

“I’m gonna pay it all off, I promise, even if I have to get a third job,” his calloused, bear-like hands encaptured hers, giving her petite fingers a gentle, adoring squeeze, “then I’m gonna give you the life you fucking deserve. A ring, a big ass wedding at one of those fancy, country estates, a whole bunch of kids, even that damned pink Volkswagen Beetle with the flowers painted on the doors - whatever you want, I’m gonna make sure that you get it all.”

“To me and you,” he toasted meaningfully - his words exuding promise and assurance as his meaty, ring-clad fingers grasped the condensation-laced neck of the lavish, half-empty champagne bottle. Expectantly, he tilted the punt of the onyx-tinted, glass bottle towards the breath-taking, brunette beauty before him.

“To me and you,” she recited his endearing words fondly, an enamored, cordial smile curving the corners of her full, luscious lips upwards. She too grasped the neck of a chilled, vintage bottle of champagne - hers significantly fuller than his - before clinking the two aged bottled together in celebration of their future together. The two, slightly tipsy, teens each took a generous swig of the fruit-fragranced beverage, concluding the ritual.

A giddy, infatuated squeal surpassed her plump, champagne-drenched lips as his soaked, paw-like palms gripped her dainty ankles, proceeding to gently tug her scantily-clad silhouette into the depths of the heated, bubbling water. His brawny, exposed back pressed against the varnished pine wood of the hot tub bench - her already bruised knees falling either side of his swimsuit-clad lower half, straddling his tamed, semi-erect length. His loving, yet ravenous, lips found hers, molding together in a beautiful, melodic synchrony as his audacious, meandering fingers fumbled to untie the loose strings of her Aztec-printed bikini bottoms.

#jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #jj x reader imagine #jj imagine #jj maybank imagine #jj #jj fluff #obx #outerbanks #obx imagine #obx fluff #pogues #pogues fluff #pogues x reader #jj one shot #jj maybank one shot #outerbanks imagine #john b #kiara #pope #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #jj maybank imagines #jj imagines #requests

[shihalyfie]

Menoa Bellucci, and her relation to Adventure and 02′s antagonists

I mentioned in an earlier meta that Kizuna has a particularly deep relationship to 02 on a thematic level, with a lot of that being because its primary antagonist, Menoa, has heavy parallels to its two main antagonists (the Digimon Kaiser and Oikawa Yukio). I felt like I should make another post talking about Menoa in particular, and how the themes of both Adventure and 02 relate to her.

Do note that naturally, this will contain heavy spoilers for the movie (although I guess I’ve technically already spoiled it in this post’s premise...).

Before we begin, I’m going to start off with...well, look, I don’t really like starting off with what’s probably going to sound like an indictment, but I’m pretty sure so much of the potential audience for this post is going to be thinking about it that I inevitably need to address it. It’s the part where a lot of people have generally accused Menoa of being a rehash of tri.’s Himekawa Maki. Honestly, I don’t blame anyone for jumping to that connection, because of how similar the surface details are -- she’s a young woman who was a Chosen Child, who lost her partner and did morally questionable things as a result. That, and tri. was only a few years ago, so Himekawa is still recent in memory, and it’s logical to think that maybe the most recent work would be pulling from the second most recent work.

...But that’s also exactly where the similarities stop. Beyond that surface level, there’s not much connection on a thematic level. Mainly: after losing her partner, Himekawa’s main goal was to get said partner back, even if it meant dismantling the same Digital World she’d been originally meant to protect -- she was willing to destroy everything for the sake of that goal (i.e. she was knowingly acting selfishly). Not only that, she’s not even the primary antagonist, because the whole thing ties into her being used as a pawn by Yggdrasil -- so we’re not even sure how much agency she had in this entire arrangement. Meanwhile, Menoa’s motives were definitely very based on her desire to get said partner back, but the whole point was that she thought it was impossible -- she’d certainly tried, but because nothing was bearing fruit, she determined that the only thing she could do would be to prevent everyone else from going through the same thing. So in other words, she was convinced her actions were actually selfless, and her failure in getting her partner back was what motivated her -- all based on her own personal choices and motivations, directed entirely by her. Other than the backstory part being somewhat similar, the way they react to it is completely different.

If Menoa is meant to be relevant to Himekawa, then that can only really be said in the sense that Menoa is a response to and deconstruction of the plot point Himekawa introduced. This is especially because part of Kizuna’s creation involved being a direct response to tri.’s inadequate portrayal of Digimon partnerships, which, unfortunately, Himekawa is...kind of a major symptom of -- we’re never given any serious depiction on what emotional connection Himekawa and her partner had, we’re only supposed to glean this by projecting the old Adventure/02 definition and depiction of partnerships, and everything else we learn about Himekawa’s desperation is after the fact. And...well, I’ll be honest, it’s still kind of hard to even rationalize how Himekawa’s “character arc” makes much sense (especially the part where we’re supposed to figure out how she apparently studied the reboot since university but had no contingency plan for Bakumon not remembering her, to the point where this apparently drove her completely insane...?). So as a result, she’s just killed off unceremoniously, because there’s no real natural conclusion to this arc, nor any underlying logic as to what relationship Himekawa and Bakumon supposedly had.

So it is true that Menoa starts off with a similar base concept, but because Kizuna is dedicated to “defining what it means to have a partner”, it takes a proper step-by-step approach: firstly, what did Morphomon actually mean to Menoa? We’re given tons and tons of depictions of how Morphomon was integrated into her daily life, and was her closest confidant for years. What exactly does it mean to lose a partner? The depictions and descriptions in Kizuna don’t hold back at all; Menoa even says that it feels “like a part of your body has been ripped away”. What is a Digimon partner in the first place, and what does it mean to have one or to not have one? In line with Adventure/02′s portrayal of Digimon partners, a Digimon is portrayed as a part of the inner self whose presence or absence depends on the human’s state of mind, which means that getting a partner back also depends on said human -- and thus, even Menoa is provided an opportunity for salvation at the end, because everyone has the potential to grow again. In that sense, it’s hard to really call Menoa a parallel or a rehash, when, if anything, it’s more like she’s taking that concept and readjusting it to what it should have been more like when under the original Adventure/02 concept of partnerships.

Anyway...

Back to Adventure and 02. On its face, Kizuna does seem to have more pertinence to 02 than it does Adventure when it comes to themes -- after all, Kizuna styles itself as something that’s supposed to be relatable and personal to the modern millennial adult, meaning that it focuses moreso on human drama and introspection more so than it does Digital World and Digimon mechanics. In doing so, it was probably inevitable that it aligns itself more with 02 (which was significantly more about human drama and interpersonal relationships than it was Adventure’s Digital World and Digimon lore) by default.

Still, there is a lot of pertinence in the sense that Adventure was always intended to be “a story of humanity’s evolution” -- recalling that the 02 epilogue was actually the originally intended ending for Adventure, and the result of “everyone in the world having a Digimon partner” being the “evolution” of humanity by having a visible form of their own soul -- and thus, the core of each enemy in Adventure was tied to it in some form. This is made especially clear in the third Adventure novel:

At the beginning of the world, when the Digital world was still in chaos, the Digital world chose the idea of “evolution.” By deciding that this process would involve the Digital world itself “evolving,” it created Homeostasis for that necessity...

...Apocalymon must have sent its thoughts through the “Wall of Fire” into the Digital world. It planted the idea into the Dark Masters’ minds to unconsciously reject “evolution.” The Dark Masters’ plan would permanently destroy the function of the Village of Beginnings. It was possible that, to the very end, they had been unaware of it. In other words, the construction of Spiral Mountain took “evolution” away from the Digital World.

When the kids finally meet Apocalymon in the penultimate episode of Adventure, he has the following complaints:

Apocalymon: We are the Digimon who have disappeared through the evolution process...The resultant build-up of thoughts that have cursed our sad and hateful fates! Sora: You were created from the dark hearts of the Digimon who disappeared? Apocalymon: Dear Chosen Children and your dear Digimon. We have been looking forward to meeting all of you. ... Apocalymon: Listen. While we lay buried under a deep darkness of utter coldness and sorrow, you were on the other side, enjoying yourselves and laughing happily in the warm light. WHY?! ... Apocalymon: What have we done to deserve this?! (tears at self) Why must we weep tears of grief while you enjoy cheerful laughter? Mimi: No, I don't want to see this! Apocalymon: We, too, have tears that flow from our eyes and feelings that flow from our hearts. Just who decided that we were to be deprived of this world and consigned to oblivion?! We wanted to live! We wanted to live and speak of friendship, justice, and love! We wanted to use this body to be helpful to this world! Are you saying that this world has no need for us? That we are meaningless?! ... Apocalymon: Then we shall rule this world! We shall make this place belong to us. All who get in our way will die! (laughs) May the light be forever cursed where it shines!

(Translation by Ryuu-Rogue.)

So, basically, Apocalymon is a “Legion” sort of Digimon, made up of the condensed regrets of Digimon who were unable to evolve, and lived so much in despair that they decided they would drag everyone else down with them, and reform the world into their own. So in other words, his main goal to “inhibit evolution” was in the sense of inhibiting the Digital World’s own evolution and development, while it was growing alongside the human world -- all of this villainous “destroying the world” and “taking over the world” is all tied to a root of “inhibiting evolution”. And this was all intended to be tied into 02 as well, along with even the theoretical third Adventure series that never happened -- an ongoing fight for humanity and the Digital World’s right to continue “evolving” against forces that were trying to block it.

How does this relate to Menoa?

“Evolution” in the context of Adventure and 02 has a lot of meanings, and of course one of the most prominent ones is in terms of the metaphor of “evolution = human growth and potential”. Kizuna brings it to the forefront in terms of explicitly saying that Digimon growth is tied to human potential, but that’s always been there from the beginning -- especially considering how high-level evolution is powered by human virtues, like Crests.

But by trapping everyone in Neverland, Menoa is keeping people from “evolving” -- not just the Digimon from evolving, but humans from gaining any growth or potential, because they’ll be fixated in their childhood memories forever. The namesake of Neverland, the original Peter Pan, was very much about how staying a child forever would involve always being immature -- Peter was not a heroic figure in the end, as he was someone who was ultimately callous and irresponsible, at times even self-serving. No one will grow as people. Everyone will stay locked in the same mentality forever. The Digimon will never evolve. Robbed of Chosen Children to help protect the world, both the human world and Digital World will be left defenseless, and perhaps even be destroyed -- and that would be the end of “evolution” for all.

All because of Menoa’s own grief and projection.

Moving back to 02, this is of course where the parallels start getting really explicit. As I mentioned earlier, Menoa is effectively a combination of 02′s two most prominent antagonists -- the Digimon Kaiser, Ichijouji Ken, who was pressured into being recognized as a “genius” by society and lost a grip on his true self as a result, and Oikawa Yukio, who was cut off from the Digital World in childhood and spent his adulthood trying to grasp at shallow symbols of his past, projecting on others in the process.

Actually, let’s go over these characters in their stages of antagonism!

The Digimon Kaiser:

Was recognized by society as a “genius” and paraded around for those abilities; mentioned to be intelligent enough to skip grades into university (was only prevented from doing so like Menoa did because he lived in Japan, which didn’t have a system for this)

Tried to smash out the aspects of himself that didn’t fit the image he was aiming for, throwing away the “kindness” in his heart under the idea it was “weakness”, trying to become “better than others”

Started pushing away his own Digimon partner in the process, symbolizing a rejection of his own inner self

Ultimately, never got to have a proper childhood of having the freedom to do “meaningless things”, because he and his brother Osamu were “demanded to grow up fast”

Young Menoa:

Was recognized by society as a “genius” to the point she felt isolated from her peers, to the point she decided to skip grades into university because she felt like it would get her recognition and allow her to be productive to society

Stopped engaging in childhood hobbies (e.g. the swing she used to play with Morphomon at) and is implied to have pushed others away in her bid to be independent

Wasn’t even talking to Morphomon much anymore by the time of their separation, because she’d prioritized her studies in order to skip grades

Ultimately turned herself into an “adult” at the age of 14, far too young for anyone to become an adult

The surface details are a little different -- because Ken’s troubles manifested in a way that made him more “consciously reject” Wormmon rather than outright neglect him, and because his reaction to being “demanded to grow up fast” ultimately involved him trying to ditch everything into the Digital World instead of trying to become more mature, he was spared from the fate of having an outright partnership dissolution with Wormmon at the tender age of eleven. (Although he did still have a pretty traumatizing “loss” of Wormmon, so it’s not like he got off scot-free -- especially when getting said partner back involved a necessary epiphany about choosing to face what he did and moving forward with the consequences, something Menoa did not do during the events of the movie.) Either way, though, he managed to snap himself out of it and prevent himself from taking the same path Menoa did -- especially since the two of them are based off the same real-life origin story, the 9-year-old American boy whom Seki Hiromi read about in a newspaper, who skipped grades into Columbia University, causing her to conclude that he’d be unable to make friends his age.

Since Menoa ends up taking a different path and going “all the way”, once Morphomon is taken from her, she veers onto a path very similar to Oikawa’s.

Oikawa Yukio:

Was torn away from contact with the Digital World (and his future partner) by a well-meaning Hida Chikara, worried about him and Hiroki getting into “foolish talk”

Was isolated from the only friend he could relate to (via Hida Hiroki’s death)

Tried to make his own Digimon, implied to at least partially be inspired by trying to fill the void (see 02 episode 47), but only manages to create minions who do his bidding

Kidnapped a bunch of children under the premise that he was just giving them what they wanted; implanted Dark Seeds into them that on the surface gave them what they wanted but actually ate at their feelings

Blamed the fact he was a “tainted adult” for his inability to go to the Digital World without more forcible methods

Menoa:

Lost her partner after discarding her childhood hobbies in order to fit society’s standard of adulthood

Developed an obsession with becoming “independent”; ended up likely having no friends to connect with (states during the climax in Neverland that nobody understands how she feels)

Tried to use “scientific” computer methods to bring back her partner, but only managed to get hordes of soulless husks to do her bidding

Kidnapped a bunch of people (eventually including literal children) under the premise that she would be saving everyone; forced them to experience eternal loops of their childhood memories that prevented them from moving forward

Blamed the fact she’d “made that choice” and become an adult for her loss of her partner

Oikawa didn’t “lose” his partner in the sense of something permanent-sounding like Morphomon, but in terms of thematic parallels, Menoa basically ends up throwing herself into his path after continuing in the direction Ken ultimately chose to tear himself away from.

Ultimately, there are still differences in execution and life circumstances between all three characters -- and that’s how it ought to be, given that it would be inappropriate for Kizuna to be a complete rehash of 02. But considering that 02 was heavily built on the themes of “not drowning in regret and learning to move forward” and “embracing the inner child and not caving to societal expectations”, it makes sense that Kizuna, which is built on “not drowning in nostalgia and learning to face the future” and “not losing touch with childhood memories and experiences nor the childish self to the pressures of becoming an adult”, the parallels between the main antagonists driving the story are going to be very similar.

Although, given the events of Kizuna and how they played out...one wonders if Ken has any idea how lucky he is...

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #menoa bellucci #tri negativity

[joanofarkansass]

Part 33 Meta

Ok watching “Part 33” Law and Order: SVU S20E14 and it’s such a good character study of all the SVU characters. For context the case is when a woman, Annabeth Pearl, kills her abusive husband. The episode is spliced between he team is waiting there to testify for Stone and the case itself and is shot entirely in the courthouse (which is smart move on the writers part it really narrows the scope and sets it apart from a regular episode). The viewers really see the team’s attitudes toward justice, morality, and duty especially how it intersects -- and occasionally interferes -- with their jobs. Spoilers obviously 

Sonny- He’s the most outwardly emotional out of the gang and the audience can see how he really empathizes and cares about justice for Annabeth instead of justice to Annabeth, despite her being the defendant. He argues passionately with Rollins and on the stand adds his own (legal) conjecture to his testimony with Stone, putting doubt on the loving marriage between Annabeth and her husband, directly undermining Stone. Drawing back, Sonny knows that cases don’t end when they leave the squad-room and the victim’s and perpetrator’s futures continue into the courtroom and he takes his moral compass seriously. He’s studying to be a lawyer. In his job as a cop his job is to back up the ADA and land a conviction, but he doesn’t believe she should go to jail (that her killing was justified) so on the stand, sure he tells the truth, but also does whatever he can to get her justice. Though his earnestness is a little self absorbed, it’s genuine and well meant and I think this will serve him so well as a lawyer. It’d be interesting to see in later seasons when he’s a ADA what he will do when he has to persue a case he doesn’t morally agree with.

Liv- her monologue about being in a abusive relationship and the little things that strip away your dignity is heartbreaking (Mariska you deserve an Emmy for this scene btw) (it’s also connected to the abuse she suffered at the hands of Lewis). She cares so much for the victims, it’s her greatest asset, and here it’s confounded by her strong duty to the law. This case is simple. Annabeth, according to the law, deserves to go to jail. She wasn’t in physical danger from her husband (not that anyone can prove at any rate). But Liv also knows that shooting her husband was the right thing to do in order to get out of that situation. Illegal, but right. These parts of her are at war (just like with that donor heart episode and Alex Cabot episodes in S19) and she chooses to tell the truth--to put Annabeth away-- because in the end the rule of law can’t be subverted no matter how immoral it can be

 Rollins. Oh darling, you’ve been through so much shit. Like, lets be real here the entire team has, but you especially. And the unfurling of her backstory, with her father beating her mother and her consequent resentment of her mother for failing to protect her and Rollins is heartbreaking. She was a child and those complicated, complicated emotions distilled in her, to the outside eye’s, in a confusing (illogical) way. She occasionally victim blames and we can see the origins of that tendency here in how her mother, herself a victim, failed to protect her and keep her family together. Is that fair? No. Is what Rollins went through fair? No. And like how what Liv went through with Lewis affected her and her work, what Rollins past affected her work and outlook too. We see it in her advocacy for “innocent until proven guilty” and her belief in the strength of the victims even at the worst point their lives. So yes, she believes in the law. She believes that Annabeth should be in jail. For her, that’s right. *

Stone- it’s easy to see him as the bad guy here, but for me it was a lot more nuanced than that. Part of it is a performance of course, he’s a prosecutor trying to get a conviction (if he wants to win he can’t be playing for the other side), but he does genuinely believe he’s getting justice. Especially as a ADA, he sees the worst of humanity and puts them to justice for it. He takes what the cops give him and make sure it stick that victims get justice. You can’t subvert the law, its the law. In order for anything to get done, there has to be some black and white. Guilty and Innocent. Truth and farce. And no matter how moral it may have been- no matter what Annabeth felt- she still killed her husband in cold blood. And just as her husband should have been accountable for his actions, she has to be accountable for hers. Nuance belongs at sentencing, but she did it. That’s what he’s trying to prove. 

Fin- We love some depth!! Fin can sometimes be treated as a one note character, and I’m glad Ice-T got to stretch his leg this episode. His whole facade “this is just another case to me” is peeled back by Liv and his story about throwing a fighting fish back into the bay was a touching way of showing his true feelings. He doesn’t believe she belongs in prison. But it’s not his place to judge, it’s the law’s. The law may not always be just or kind or even moral, but (on the whole) it’s consistent. It’s fair. And if we subvert it, we face a worse life than if we had one. 

I also really liked the ending. We don’t see the verdict, just Annabeth’s expression of horror as Liv testifies that she didn’t feel remorse about killing her husband, effectively nailing the lid on her coffin. It’s not ambiguous, the audience knows that she’s going to jail, but it stops that the emotional climax- Liv’s testimony. It doesn’t draw out the inevitable, it leaves the audience pondering the same questions that the team did. Is the law always just? What would you do if it wasn’t? Is it even your place to judge?

Thanks for reading! This was just an emotional reaction from me after watching the episode for the first time and I’d love to hear your reactions.

- Joan

Tagging some people bc I’m really proud of this: @hurricanejjareau, @qvid-pro-qvo, @writefasttalkevenfaster, @crazyshannonigans, @ssaic-jareau

PS: Personally, I’m in Fin’s camp. The law is there for a reason and if we broke it for any injustice it would eventually encroach on personal freedoms. Is it disgusting that he abused Annabeth? Without a doubt. Is it legal? Sadly, yeah. And until the law changes, it’s our duty to follow it. Should it be changed? That is the question. (this is just my opnion btw and I totally get and respect if you disagree)

*Do I believe Rollins should be in therapy? Hells yes. Her perspective is valid and needed as a counter part to Liv and Carisi more emotional ones, but it’s coming from a place that isn’t good. 

#law and order svu #law and order: svu #law and order svu meta #fin tutuola #sonny carisi #olivia benson #peter stone #amanda rollins #svu meta

[bau-rookie]

a close examination of Hotch and Foyet

in which Hotch’s greatest strength becomes his fatal flaw.

(a/n: super long essay, because i don’t know how else to consume media apparently lol. i’ve been sitting on this since “100″ because it is really sad and I just wanted to make sure I get all my thoughts in order. It is, to my discovery, Aaron Hotchner’s birthday today, so what better way to celebrate than by explaining all the ways the Foyet arc reads like a Greek tragedy and how Hotch is an amazingly well-written character. Sorry the only way I can think about paying tribute is by making myself sad. Oh there’s GIFs too! I made them and that’s neat :D)

I. Ingredients for a Greek tragedy.

Greek tragedies stem from classical plays, usually about the nobility, and is centered around their struggle against the Gods/Fate. The noble character has a hamartia, or a fatal flaw, usually their own arrogance, that brings upon their own downfall.

Technically, Criminal Minds would fall under the category of modern tragedy which focuses more on common people and everyday problems. (Though you could argue that being a BAU profiler isn’t your typical career, which makes our characters noble not by blood, but in spirit.)

In modern tragedy, there is less of an emphasis on the involvement of a higher power or Fate. Every bad thing that happens is of mankind’s own making, and this is something that CM discusses often, that evil isn’t necessarily brought upon by a higher power. It’s brought upon by ordinary people choosing to do terrible things. 

And Foyet is no different. He chose to kill all these people because he wanted to, but his fascination with Hotch and how his plans for him play out, entrap Hotch in a tragedy more Greek in nature.

What Foyet ultimately does is take Hotch’s greatest strength—his stoic resolve to serve justice—and uses it to hold him personally responsible for the death of his ex-wife, all while bending the hand of Fate to his will.

II. Hotch as a noble character.

In “Omnivore” we are introduced to the Reaper and the many ways he tries to exert control and power over his victims. After killing so many times loses its appeal, the Reaper decides to toy with detective Tom Shaunessey by offering him a deal—if you stop hunting me, I will stop hunting them. 

While we sympathize with Shaunessey simply trying to save lives, he does so with the knowledge that he is deliberately letting a serial killer go free. The fear and the guilt eats away at him until his death.

Hotch, on the other hand, quickly establishes himself to be a resolute pursuer of justice. We don’t get to make those decisions. We don’t let them get away with it. He holds onto the idea that they have no right to decide who lives or dies and that the victims that unsubs like the Reaper takes, are not something he, or anyone in his line of work, should feel responsible for. Their sole responsibility is to stop them. 

This isn’t to say that Hotch is unaffected by the increasing number of bodies. When he turns down the deal and the Reaper attacks the bus full of people, he is visibly shaken by this, so much so that we see Hotch cry for the first time. It takes Rossi delivering some tough love to remind him of what’s important.

Look, if you want to end up like Shaunessy, like Gideon, blaming yourself for everything, you go ahead. But that voice in your head—it’s not your conscience. It’s your ego. This isn’t about us, Aaron. It’s about the bad guys. That why we profile them. It’s their fault. We’re just guys doing a job. And when we stop doing it someone else will.

Hotch and the team in general, are faced with constant reminders that they are only human. They are fallible and cannot control every outcome. 

Not everyone can handle the stresses of being a profiler. Despite the horrors, the chance of failing, Hotch’s greatest strength is his stoic resolve. He’s become our beloved Unit Chief, the person on the team who takes on the most pressure, takes it upon himself to, at times, shield the rest of the team from the greater burdens. Personally, he’s arguably also the one who sacrificed the most to have this job, having lost his marriage.

Yet despite the horrors, despite the toll, Hotch shows up for the job anyway. Because he can’t imagine letting the bad guys get away with it.

III. Foyet as a representation of Fate

“The Eye of Providence. A symbol adopted by the U.S. Government with the words: Annuit Coeptis. Latin for “Providence or fate has favored our undertakings.” The Reaper seems to see himself as the personification of Fate.”  — Dr. Spencer Reid, “Omnivore”

From the beginning Foyet is shown to have a flair for theatrics. He leaves markings of the Eye of Providence, writes Fate in blood, calls himself the The Reaper. He has delusions of grandeur and posits himself as a higher power, one who gets to decide the course of other people’s lives. Everyone who has the misfortune of coming into contact with the Reaper, becomes another chess piece in his twisted game of Fate.

In another life, Hotch would never cross paths with Foyet. But because he did, Foyet acts as Fate, bringing down divine intervention in the form of driving Hotch into a tragedy of his own making.

Foyet acting as Fate is, paradoxically, also an argument against the actual existence of Fate. Everything that happens is a result of Foyet’s choices. It is him, a man, and not Fate who is choosing to kill, maim and be cruel.

When it came to Shaunessy, Foyet also emphasized pinning the blame of the death of innocent lives on the failure of law enforcement. It isn’t Fate when there’s something you could do to stop it. Shaunessy took the deal because he felt personally responsible for the possible loss of lives, an outcome that Foyet pretty much predicted, but one that doesn’t really affect him. Shaunessy agrees, he gets off on controlling the police. If he doesn’t, well, he can just keep on killing.

Foyet repeats the deal with Hotch. Offers him the deal, which Hotch refuses then immediately murders 7 people on the bus, setting a chain of cause and effect that makes it seems like Hotch’s actions led to this gruesome outcome. Again, placing the blame personally, on Hotch. And Hotch does blame himself, if momentarily.

Later, once Foyet escapes and corners Hotch in his own apartment, he makes it clear, you should have made a deal. Foyet acts as a vessel for Fate, a vehicle through which the consequences of Hotch’s actions are served. 

Foyet takes it a step further, when he puts Haley and Jack in witness protection. Left all the usual clues, to simply say your wife and child are in danger because you never took the deal. I hold all the cards here, your fate will come for you eventually.

Then Foyet disappears, and waits. Leaving Hotch filled with guilt over endangering his ex-wife and child, at the mercy of Foyet’s arbitration of Fate.

IV. Dominoes and fatal flaws

By the time “100″ rolls around, you’re so captivated by the action happening on screen that it’s easy to overlook how we got there. When I first watched this season, I had assumed that Foyet would be put on the back burner until the end of the season. His quicker-than-expected return seems to be happenstance, the writers behind-the-scenes doing some plot magic, but if you reexamine the events that lead up to “100″ we see Foyet’s greater machinations at play.

On the surface, the preceding episode “Outfoxed” seems to be a straight forward throwback to an earlier case. Faced with a family annihilator, Hotch and Emily visit the original Fox in prison, believing the current unsub might be a copycat. The episode seems to be about the mental toll being a profiler brings, with Emily contending with a sense of disgust at having to get intimate with a serial killer (post-”Lauren” this reads very differently, but I digress). Until right at the end, when they reveal the admirer letters were actually from Foyet, and the one being outfoxed is Hotch.

When the events of “100″ go down, we hear Foyet repeatedly blame Hotch for what happens with Haley, calls out what we see as a noble resolve to instead be Hotch’s fatal flaw. It was the same thing that led Haley to leave him, a failing borne from Hotch’s own ego, the part of him that insists that it be him who catches the bad guys, that it be him who risks it all. And Foyet uses that to his advantage, uses Hotch’s resolve to trick him into thinking that maybe he did cause all of this tragedy to happen.

One small detail that caught my attention, and set me on this Greek tragedy path, is when they try to track down Foyet in “100″, Garcia notes that he had set an internet search alert for the name “Peter Rhea.”

At this point, Foyet was ready to go after Haley and Jack. He already had pictures and surveillance of the U.S. Marshall in charge of them. He could’ve gone and killed them anytime, but that’s not how Foyet operates. He needs Hotch to feel personally responsible for things ending badly. He set the bait with the letters and simply had to wait for Hotch and the team to get close enough, to find Peter Rhea. This is, of course, incredibly risky. The team could catch him before Foyet gets anywhere close to Haley and Jack, but Foyet is sure of himself and is an extensive planner. He made sure he was always two steps ahead.

The irony is that Foyet would never have gone after Haley and Jack if Hotch and the team didn’t get close to tracking him down. There’s an added layer of Spencer figuring out Foyet’s alias using his genius anagram deciphering brain and Garcia’s expert tech analyst skills. Foyet managed to hurt Hotch because this specific BAU team are just too damn good at their jobs.

Foyet set up dominoes that only Aaron Hotchner could tip to fall. He does it so well it almost feels like Fate.

V. The inevitability of fate

“Men heap together the mistakes of their lives and create a monster called destiny.”  — John Hobbes, “Omnivore” closing quote.

A key aspect of Greek tragedy, is that Fate is often the result of divine intervention. They cause certain events to happen in certain ways so as to result in the most tragic outcome, usually death. It’s designed so that the audience is aware of what’s to come, and can see no other way for the story to end. The tragedy is supposed to feel inevitable.

One could argue, that there is no such thing as Fate. Life is simply a sequence of random happenstance, but our need to prescribe meaning to the chaos cobbles up stories of predetermined destinies. Especially when the idea of owning up to our mistakes and their consequences is too much.

All of this was the result of one sick man, George Foyet, choosing to be so cruel. And Hotch was simply a victim of circumstance because if Foyet wasn’t going after Hotch, he’d be going after someone else.

But what are the odds that Hotch’s first case as lead profiler happens to be The Boston Reaper? It was from that moment that Hotch’s fate was really sealed, he and Foyet would be forever intertwined. 

Hotch, being who he is, had inadvertently, made the Reaper personal. Even when his BAU team was sent away, his resolve wouldn’t let the Reaper simply disappear. It led him to build his profile, alone and over many years. Any other person might’ve just let the case go, but not Hotch.

So when Shaunessy died and the Reaper resurfaced, the only person in the world who knows enough about the Reaper to track him down, is Hotch. It’s what leads him to George Foyet, a victim at first glance, and Hotch comes to him unaware that he is promising The Reaper a new, worthy adversary, one a decade in the making. And everything, from his prison escape, to his attack on Hotch in his apartment, plays out exactly as Foyet expects it to, because as much as Hotch can read him, Foyet can read his behavior too.

At the end of 5x03, “Reckoner”, Rossi talks about what could have been when it comes to his childhood sweetheart to Hotch. About how he was too obsessed with his job, with the hunt that he gave up his chance of having a family. Rossi warns Hotch, don’t make my mistakes, kid.

You have a family. When all this is over, what are you gonna do to make sure you’re not a lonely guy wondering why you let the purest thing in your life get away?

My initial reaction was that they were setting up for Hotch to leave the BAU for good. The man who hung on to the job so much that it cost him his marriage, for the first time, actually considers leaving it all behind him. Because what Rossi says to him, driven by the circumstances that Foyet has created, is too profound for him to ignore. Foyet is too big of a thing to just move on from once its over.

Of course, my hopes of Hotch riding off into sunset to live a quieter life and watch his son grow up were optimistic at best. It’s a fantasy that purposely ignores the reality of who Hotch is, simply because I want the alternative to be possible. By the time Haley is buried, and Strauss offers Hotch retirement, we already know what his answer is going to be. Because everything we know about this man can only lead us to one conclusion.

Aaron Hotchner is the man who goes after the bad guys, the man who doesn’t let them get away with it. No matter how much I yell at my screen about how Hotch should just retire and spend all his time with Jack, deep down I knew that was never going to happen. Him losing Haley and still going back to work, seems like the only logical outcome. It’s almost feels inevitable.

VI. Catharsis

The point of tragedy is, according to Aristotle, to achieve catharsis. The purging of emotion through the telling of another person’s suffering. And that’s what “100″ does (unless your heart is made of stone and you somehow did not tear up even once).

Others would say that tragedy is meant to teach us a lesson. Meant to teach us the limits of our mortal abilities, to warn against hubris and arrogance; to remind us that they are higher powers and unseen forces beyond our understanding or control.

Criminal Minds doesn’t try to give us that lesson. Like in so many previous cases, the premise of a crime procedural is really a way of examining human nature. Why do people do bad things? More often than not, though our profilers can figure out how an unsub goes from doing thing A to thing B, they don’t have a satisfying answer for why. 

In Foyet’s case, he does all of this to Hotch because he can, because he enjoys making him suffer. It is evil, unnecessarily cruel. There is no sense to be found in what happened.

But “100″ does not deliver pure tragedy. It ended in the death of Haley but it also provided hope in the survival of Jack. Hotch finally rids the world of Foyet, though the way it went down, you can’t help but wonder about the price of justice, if the cost is too much for this one man to pay. But then the show reminds the audience, that this one man isn’t bearing that cost alone.

Aaron Hotchner has his team, his family, and with their support, a chance to recover from the tragedy that Foyet wrought.

I used to think that, despite being dead, George Foyet still won. He set out to hurt Hotch, and that’s exactly what he did. We’ve only seen Hotch openly cry twice at this point, and they both were directly caused by Foyet. And I suppose that’s still partly true. It’s hard to really tell with our stone-faced unit chief, but it’s hard to see how Foyet wouldn’t linger.

But that victory isn’t absolute. Foyet is gone, and he loses every time Jack gets to spend another day happy and alive. Foyet loses, every time Hotch shows up for the job and doesn’t let another unsub like him get away with it.

And maybe that’s the lesson. That though good doesn’t always triumph over evil, there is a way to move past tragedy. And that path lies not in solitude, in carrying the burden alone, but in the solace of our friends and family who can bear witness to all that we must face.

For all all my waxing poetic about how Hotch is a noble hero, this entire ordeal just shows how human he is. Yet despite his flaws and the tragedy, the core unassailable truth of who he is, the values he represents, remain unchanged.

He is Aaron Hotchner. The guy who hunts down guys like Foyet. The guy who doesn’t let the bad guys get away with it. The guy who, despite everything, managed to save his son. The guy who will keep his promise to the woman he was once married to, to teach their son that love is the most important thing. The guy who makes sure that his son knows that good people do exist.

Aaron Hotchner is the guy who, despite all the hurt, the pain and the loss, chooses to be the hero. And that’s the farthest thing from tragic.

#did i spend all day thinking too much about a fictional character? #hell yes #i don't know how else to be #i just think aaron hotchner is neat ok #and he deserves the happiest of birthdays #maybe i'll write a fic about it tomorrow #but for now i rest #criminal minds #charlie watches criminal minds #aaron hotchner #david rossi #george foyet #mine: gifs #criminal minds gifs

[bigskydreaming]

You're totally right. I literally cannot read "Jason finds out about Tarantula" fics anymore. I find the way they generally filter what's considered in fandom maybe Dick's biggest trauma, through the lens of " isn't Jay just so awesome for caring (even though Dick's always been such a dick to him)", rather that Dick's needs, pretty gross. And why does Jay's revenge on Tarantula usually matter more than Dick's feelings on the matter (like, Dick could have revenge himself if he wanted, you know?)?

This is DEFINITELY a thing and it bugs a ton.

Like, I get the projection element of using Jason killing Dick’s rapist to act out or process the revenge fantasy of wishing someone would do that for you with your rapist, for writers or readers for whom this is part of the catharsis, and so this isn’t like, a moral judgment of him for doing so, the problem is it never in ANY story has ANYTHING TO DO WITH DICK OR WHAT HE WANTS.

Never have I ever seen a single story about Tarantula or Mirage where Jason kills them after ASKING Dick if that’s what he wants, if that will help him, bring him closure or comfort or relief.

Its just Jason going off and doing his thing, and that’s 100% entirely about Jason, and that’s....annoying, in a fic and an issue that’s supposed to be about hurt/comfort for Dick for something that happened to him.

Like, if Jason was actually acting on Dick’s behalf and fulfilling his wishes, that’d be totally different, but there’s not a single thought ever spared about the fact that if Dick blamed himself for Tarantula killing Blockbuster and thought HE failed HER by not putting her on a better path, then how in the hell do you think he’s ACTUALLY going to feel about Jason then killing Tarantula, supposedly on his behalf?

I’ve talked extensively about how I think Dick has a lot more nuanced and complicated perspective on killing than most people assume of him, and I’m not refuting that here.....but even Dick being willing or tempted to kill someone who’s hurt him or taken someone from him like he was with Zucco and later with Two-Face and then with Joker.....like, this is not remotely interchangeable with how Dick might feel about killing being done in his name, and I don’t for a second believe that’s what he’d ever want from any of his siblings, and thus this would IMO only make things WORSE for his mental and emotional state, rather than bring him any sort of catharsis at all.

Like, its not even about the morality of killing itself even....there’s so many other factors such as Jason’s complicated history with Bruce on this very issue, and like, the last thing in the world Dick would want is to be the reason for even further conflict between Bruce and Jason because Jason killed someone on Dick’s behalf.....ESPECIALLY when its not even on Dick’s behalf because at no point, as I said, is Jason shown thinking through the thought process of ‘is this actually what Dick would want and would it make him feel better, or is this wholly about making myself feel better and venting my anger and aggression about my brother being hurt on the one who hurt him, regardless of how he’s going to feel about it if and when he finds out.’

Like, say what you will about Dick killing the Joker in Last Laugh, but there was never any illusions about him going that far and beating the Joker to death because he thought it would bring either Jason or Tim (who he thought at that point the Joker had killed too) back, nor did he ever during or in the aftermath express any kind of idea that he was doing it because its what they would want. Ironically of course, this ended up being exactly what Jason DID want, just not from Dick specifically, but the point is, this never came up as part of Dick’s thought process either during or after. It was always 100% clear that this event, that moment, was about Dick and his hurt and rage over the Joker taking away his loved ones, just like with Zucco it’d been about his hurt and rage over him taking his parents away and not at all because he was of the belief that his parents would actually want him to kill Zucco. 

Even with Two-Face in R:YO, Dick being tempted to kill Two-Face was less about him having been hurt by Two-Face when he almost beat Dick to death....it really was about him holding Two-Face and that whole situation to blame for Bruce firing him and in Dick’s mind no longer needing or wanting him....he wanted to kill Two-Face not because of what had been DONE to him, but what he blamed Two-Face for having lost, what he felt he’d taken from him....even while knowing full well that this would in no way make things better or right with Bruce, and its the last thing Bruce would want Dick to do.

There is a difference between avenging and revenge, and one of the interesting things about Dick’s stance and history on killing has always been that it always ONLY comes up in the latter. Like, there’s never any point in Dick’s history where he views killing as a valid way to avenge a loved one......the times when he struggles with the desire to, its 100% about his wanting revenge on a personal level.

And that’s the honesty and directness I’m missing from so many Tarantula or Mirage fics these days. Its the disconnect, how Jason is framed and even celebrated as though he’s AVENGING his brother and acting on his behalf, justice for Dick being hurt by these people.....

But the reality is, there’s little to no thought or attention paid by Jason or the narrative as to what Dick’s ACTUAL wishes in this matter are, and what he actually wants and needs in order to be helped along in his recovery.

Its really just about Jason getting revenge for someone hurting someone he cares about and thus feeling hurt and pain by proxy......just twisted and made to look like something it’s not, by saying its FOR Dick even though its likely Dick would actually be worse off for knowing what Jason was doing/had done, as Dick’s guilt complex makes it all but inevitable that he’d now additionally blame himself for being the reason Jason felt he had to do that.....when ironically and obnoxiously, the reality is Jason did it in those stories because its what Jason wanted and what Jason felt HE needed to cope with his feelings and emotions about what had been done to his brother. It really ultimately has nothing to do with Dick, he’s just the excuse, but he also just so happens to 100% be someone who would shoulder the burden of guilt and blame and remorse for even just being the excuse for someone going to those extremes.

If a story is about Dick’s trauma and Dick’s recovery, leaving out Dick’s actual expressed wishes or Dick’s feelings about what other people do or want to do as a result of this is a huge, gaping, annoying as hell oversight.

And for the record, I’m trying to keep this general and not speak to specific fics because I’m aware that for many survivors, the act of projecting onto Dick and what he suffered there can and does mean that for some people, Jason’s actions there are viewed as almost actually being on behalf of the readers/writers who project themselves into Dick’s position in that narrative. I get that, and that’s why this issue is always going to be messy.

As with most things, my true gripe is the overwhelming SAMENESS of the takes on Tarantula/Mirage stories, and the fact that no room is hardly ever left for those who ironically are NOT projecting onto Dick so fully that they feel avenged by whatever Jason does here.....but rather who are simply relating to Dick and thus are actually just looking for the catharsis of him being able to seize back control over his own life and what happens to him and because of him, by the narrative prioritizing the other characters focusing on what HE wants and needs for HIS recovery rather than going off to enact revenge of their own.

Sorry not sorry, but I am always gonna be hardcore gung-ho about the fact that I think that stories that are ABOUT a specific character’s rape should always center and prioritize THEM and what THEY want and/or do, rather than just use them and what happened to them as a catalyst to then showcase someone else acting out a revenge fantasy in their name.

The desire to avenge a loved one, the desire for personal revenge against someone who hurt a loved one, and the desire to act as little as possible on your own personal feelings about what happened and instead be there to help enact whatever that hurt loved one says they want or need to help get better....

Each and every one of these desires has validity....the problem is, depending on the characters involved, they absolutely ARE at times mutually exclusive and not compatible, and thus not keeping a firm awareness on the distinction between these and which are the primary motivations for which characters, like.....it often brings these into direct conflict....but without a lot of writers and readers ever perceiving any conflict exists, because they’re completely centered on Jason’s actions and choices rather than Dick’s wants and needs, to the extent that in a lot of fics, the latter never even comes up for a mention.

And that’s the part that just will never work in my eyes. If its about what happened to Dick, it needs to be about what he wants or needs as a result. There can be other elements in play as well, by all means Jason and others can absolutely have their own conflicting views about what happened and wants/needs for revenge that are at odds with what Dick himself wants, and this doesn’t make them bad or wrong, but there’s so much room for intricate and complicated dynamics and insights there....whereas there’s just none of that in narratives that use harm done to Dick as a catalyst for character choices.....just without Dick’s character choices ever then entering the narrative as being considered at all relevant.

[sapphicwhump]

Deception of Luna

Fandoms: Destiny, Destiny 2 Tropes: F/M, trauma recovery, heavy angst, light fluff, creepy whumper, cosmic horror elements, whumpee/caretaker intimacy TWs: flashback, explicit noncon, implied death of loved ones, implied misogyny

Read on AO3

        Lich-5 considers herself to be quite lucky. At least with her assignments on Luna; not so much with her loot. She speeds across the lunar surface on her Sparrow towards Archer’s Line, having just received a bounty to clear out the Fallen there. There are three of the usual crimson phantoms en route this time; each one cowers and screams in terror as her Sparrow plows by. To her, these nightmares are just nameless red silhouettes that occasionally make creepy noises; none of them are the slightest bit recognizable. The larger ones, the ones that appear as long-dead enemies rather than Guardians, have names she can recognize from her historical studies, but nothing more than that. Despite her own experience, Lich knows that most of her fellows don’t see them that way.

        The Pyramid of Luna is a nasty piece of work, to say the least. She would call it sadistic, but it would be improper of her to anthropomorphize such an alien being. The nightmares it spawns are drawn directly from the Guardians’ most painful losses; vanquished nemeses, outlived mentors, lost loves, and a myriad of others now walk again on Luna. In every case, their passing had left wounds on the people they left behind, and now the Pyramid has made those wounds fresh again.

        The worst part, Lich thinks, is that doing so offers it no tactical advantage. The Pyramid doesn’t need to crush Guardians’ morale; it could crush them all very literally if it so chose. This thing’s kind had caused the Great Collapse of humanity’s golden age; surely the Last City of today would be no trouble for it to exterminate. The only thing keeping them all alive is this Pyramid’s continued desire to bide its time. And in that time, it’s chosen to reopen their old wounds because it’s fun.

        The reason Lich-5 considers herself lucky is because she doesn’t have many wounds that can be reopened. She'd been resurrected just after the Red War, into a world struggling to recuperate, to make some amount of sense out of the tremendous loss. Her roommate Windy isn’t a particularly old Guardian by any means, only a few years her senior, but that still puts his resurrection date solidly before the War. She doesn’t pry him about it, but she’s aware that the majority of people he knew had been permanently Returned To Light by the forces of Dominus Ghaul. Windy avoids assignments on Luna like the plague, as do many of her elder acquaintances. She’s met Guardians who were resurrected in the Dark Age, now hundreds of years old, who have pushed on through every defeat humanity has ever faced since the Collapse. Lich herself recently turned three.

        Will she live to be hundreds of years old? If she does, how much will she lose in that time?

        She’s coming up on Archer’s Line now. There’s already some Guardian activity here; in the distance, she can pick out the dull gray bulk of a male Titan’s armor against the background of lunar dust. Ignoring his presence, she drives into the old K1 Logistics facility and gets to work.

        Clearing the facility takes under ten minutes. She emerges from the front entrance with her armored Warlock’s robe dotted with scuffs and splattered with Fallen Ether. Her bounty objectives aren’t quite complete yet; there are still a few Fallen skittering around the Lunar surface that’ll have to be dealt with. She’d think that life-or-death combat would be too stressful to become boring, but when that death isn’t much more than a temporary (if painful) setback, the repetitiveness of it can get a bit dull.

        Just gotta get it done, then I can relax. The rewards from these last few bounties should be just enough to afford that fancy new armor set she’s been working towards, and then she won’t have much to do until the next big crisis inevitably hits the Sol system. She’s already thinking of a few new science projects she could start work on during her extended down time; monotonous work like this does little to satiate her burning curiosity.

        The Titan she saw earlier seems to be approaching the K1 facility now. He’s welcome to loot the place if he wants; she only went in to get her bounties done. It’s nice to see another Guardian out here; the presence of an ally makes her feel slightly less alone in this gray hellscape, even if they don’t interact.

        The boxy silhouette of his armor strikes her as oddly familiar. It’s possible that she’s seen him somewhere else before; there aren’t an unlimited number of Guardians in Sol, and Lich has met quite a lot of them.

        Wait a minute—

        Recognition shoots through her neural network like arc lightning. Instantly, her every piston is tense, all sensors on high alert. It’s him. Why does he have to be here?

        She takes it back. Having another Guardian here isn’t nice at all, not when it’s him in particular . Lich quickly ducks back into the empty facility, taking cover from the imminent danger behind one of the large storage containers strewn about. She needs to be in a place where he isn’t in her line of sight.

        Maybe she isn’t so lucky. Of course the phantoms wouldn’t reopen old wounds, only for another Guardian to do it instead. Taking stock of her emotional state, she abruptly realizes how much she’s shaking. She forcibly steels herself, struggling to regain her composure while cursing her own weakness. Simply seeing a Titan, even if it’s him, should not frighten her to the point where she’s struggling to even function.

        Lich is ashamed to admit to herself how much sway he still holds over her mental state. His existence is a disgusting muck polluting the back of her mind; just being reminded of him feels like wading through a stagnant pit of human sewage, from which she can never truly escape because it’s in her head. Thinking about it more only makes it worse, causes her to sink deeper. She can forget him, at least temporarily, but then eventually something random always jogs her memory and she'll be back, trapped again in that pit of sewage.

        She considers abandoning her objectives and transmatting back to her jumpship, still safely parked at the landing zone. But it’s this part of Luna that needs to be cleared of Fallen, and that fancy new armor set won’t be on sale forever, and she really shouldn’t be so pathetically weak to let this get to her. No, she’ll stay, to earn her extended down time if nothing else. She just needs to calm down and wait here until he—

        “Oh hey, Lich. Long time no see.”

        If Lich had a heart, it would have stopped beating at that exact second. His voice, just his fucking voice, almost throws her back there all by itself. He’s so insufferably casual with his greeting, like she’s just any other acquaintance to him.

        “Hey. You mind leaving me alone?”

        “Woah, relax. I’m just finishing up these bounties.” Condescension drips off of his words like spoiled milk.

        “Yeah, well, please stay away from me while you do that.”

        His tone sours, sounding almost disappointed. “Well you’re being awfully frigid.”

        “Of course I fucking am!” Lich fumes, rage momentarily cutting through her fear. “What did you expect, that I’d be nice to you!?”

        The Titan pauses. “Well… yeah, kinda. I at least didn’t expect to be jilted like this.”

        For a brief moment, Lich sees red. Her trembling has elevated to a truly intolerable level, and she’s currently about five seconds away from drawing her Dawnblade on this man. She knows that getting violent with him would almost certainly end poorly for her, though. With great effort, she puts together a facade of something resembling calmness.

        “Look… I think I’ve got a pretty good reason for not wanting to see you. Please leave, and never try to interact with me again. I know I’m never gonna get justice, so I just want to move past this and get back as close to normal as possible. You’re making it rather difficult to do that right now.”

        “Justice?"  He cocks his helmet to the side in what looks like disbelief. As if he has any right to act surprised by any of this. She can practically feel him rolling his eyes at her underneath his blank faceplate, and it makes her synthetic stomach turn. “Fine, fine. If you wanna be like that, it’s not my problem.”

        He proceeds deeper into the K1 halls, finally giving Lich a reprieve from his vile presence. She turns to leave in the opposite direction, but stops short when she catches the Titan muttering a final insult under his breath.

        “Fuckin’ melodramatic bitch.”

        She whirls on him. “Fuck you, asshole!” she spits over her shoulder, still heading for the facility’s exit. “If I ever see you again, it’ll be too soon!”

        The Titan is mercifully quiet. Lich is almost at the door; just a few more Fallen slain, and she’ll be able to go home and do her best to forget that she ever saw him again.

        “No, fuck you.”

        Lich barely registers the Titan’s words in her audio receptors, and she doesn’t notice the suppressor grenade roll between her legs until it’s too late.

————————————

        Windy’s day has been restful, to say the least. He lays sprawled out on the couch of his and Lich’s shared apartment, his usual combat armor doffed in favor of boxers and a tank top, lackadaisically swiping through the datapad in his hand. On one tab is the sidearm section of Omolon’s digital storefront; on another is a gallery of images displaying a nude Awoken. He lifts his can of alcoholic liquid from the coffee table and pours the last of it down his throat, sighing in satisfaction. It’s kinda nice to stay home for once while Lich goes out to grind away at bounties.

        Fuck, he needed a day like this. He’s been seeing less than his fair share of action recently, but continuously dodging Vanguard assignments on Luna has been anxiety-inducing enough on its own. After his first visit, he vowed to make every effort he possibly could to never return. The Vanguard had assigned him a strike against the Hive on Luna today, and so he had to call in one of his favors for a friend to take his place in the fireteam, hence his current position at home while Lich is out and about.

        An Incoming Communication notification buzzes at the top of his screen, and he quickly closes the pornography tab before answering. It’s from Phylactery. That’s odd; Lich’s Ghost hardly ever lets themself be seen, and speaks even less. If Lich had a message for him, she’d give it herself.

        “Hey, how’s it going?”

        The Ghost doesn’t waste any time on pleasantries. “Lich needs immediate evac from K1 Logistics on Luna.”

        Windy instantly bolts up from his slouched position. “Wait, what’s going on? Can she transmat out?”

        Phylactery is doing their best to keep their tone clipped and curt as usual, but Windy still picks up on the desperate way they hurry over their words. “No, she’s currently catatonic. We’re stuck here until someone can provide an evac.”

        “Catatonic?"  Windy balks. “What the hell happened down there?”

        The Ghost’s distress is evident. “I’m not quite sure. Lich saw something; I think we were attacked, but she still isn’t cognizant enough to give me the details. I felt something suppress our Light. I was knocked unconscious, and Lich… she’s not recovering. We need you here as soon as possible.”

        Fear grips Windy’s gut. Suppressed Light means that an RTL is on the table. He’s got enough dead friends walking around on Luna without Lich joining that long list.

        “It’ll take me awhile to get there; can you call any nearby Guardians for backup?”

        Windy can detect a wince in Phylactery’s tone. “No, this… isn’t the kind of thing that a random stranger would be able to help with. Might make matters worse, even.” the Ghost quietly speculates to themself. “What she really needs right now is someone she trusts.”

        Well that’s cryptic. He knows he’s not getting the full picture of events, and stumbling blindly into danger has always been more of Lich’s thing than his. He doesn’t exactly have time to press the Ghost further, though.

        “Already on my way. Just gimme like twenty minutes to get there.”

        “Right, thank you.” Phylactery seems relieved to no longer be discussing it.

        Windy is already in motion as he hangs up the call. He drops the datapad on the cushion beside him, then vaults over the back of the couch in his usual manner. He doesn’t bother taking the time to change out of his boxers and tank top before exiting the apartment; he’ll don his armor in his jumpship. The residents of this housing block have seen far weirder things than his underwear, anyways.

        Fuck. On Luna. Guess I won’t be able to avoid it after all. Dread constricts around his gut like a snake as he approaches the Tower’s hangar, a sensation that he knows won’t dissipate until he and Lich are safely back on Earth. For now, he tries to shove it down as best he can. His current priority is making sure that his roommate doesn’t get RTL’d; once she’s safe, he can go drown his worries at the nearest bar and put this all behind him. He distracts himself by planning out the route he’ll take there, what drinks he’ll order, who he might meet up with...

        As he’s exiting the Earth’s atmosphere, Windy briefly speculates that maybe finding a therapist would be a better use of his time than just getting drunk again, before he blasts off at near-light speed for Luna.

  ————————————

        Lich-5 awakens to the sensation of an immense weight on top of her, as if she’s trapped underneath a boulder. She’s laying stomach-down on the couch where she fell asleep, being pressed down into the cushions by the heavy object above her. She’s in an apartment typical of one of the Last City’s massive housing blocks, although not the one she shares with Windy. Night has long since fallen outside, casting the living room in darkness. What little illumination remains bathes everything in an odd vermillion.

        The Titan’s apartment is small, but his couch provided an adequate place to crash for the night after a particularly wild bar crawl. Lich can’t get drunk, but flying her jumpship home while exhausted would be just as dangerous. When she proposed the idea of crashing at a nearby friend’s place, one particular Titan was eager to offer. He’s new to her group of drinking buddies, and so it struck Lich as unusual that he would so readily invite her over. Once at his apartment, she figured out his reason pretty quickly.

        Tucked away in her backpack at the foot of the couch, Phylactery sleeps soundly, enjoying a well-earned rest after a long day’s grind. Lich is currently not being afforded that same rest. The weight on top of her shifts around erratically, fiddling with something, trying to get it open. She’s nearly driven to panic, but her fear keeps her frozen in place. Just pretend you’re still asleep, her mind unhelpfully provides. Play dead, and soon the predator will go away.

        The predator does not go away. She feels a sudden spike of pain, and the irregular shifting of the weight quickly becomes paced and rhythmic.

        Lich can’t pinpoint when or how her view shifts, but at some point she finds that she’s above herself—literally. She’s watching the scene unfold from a third-person perspective, her disembodied consciousness hanging a meter in the air over her incapacitated frame. She can’t compel herself to move a single piston or servo, her physical form refusing to comply with her immobilized will.

        Long ago, in a time before she could remember, Lich had had nightmares in which she was pursued by an extreme danger, only to find her limbs paralyzed and unresponsive to her attempts to flee. This is a lot like that, only it’s not a nightmare; this is real life and the danger is directly on top of her. There is no chance to flee; she’s already been caught.

        The Titan’s head, now free of its helmet, rests on the couch next to hers. Despite the warmth of his breath, a chill runs through Lich’s system. She can feel his wet lips graze against her artificial skull as he begins to speak.

        “The Light does not hold its wielders to any standard of morality.” he whispers into the side of her head, where the ear would be if she were human. There’s a horrible wrongness in his tone, like multiple beings trying to speak through one mouth. “In the Dark Age, the Warlords inflicted terrible violence upon the innocent, just as he inflicted violence upon you.”

        The motion gradually escalates in speed and magnitude, pressing Lich further down into the couch cushions with an oscillating rhythm. Her pain briefly increases as the pace picks up, but it quickly turns dull, and a sensation of warmth grows in its place as her own body turns against her. He’s speaking again, those wet lips and warm breath directly on her audio receptor. He doesn’t pause for air as he produces the words, regardless of his physical exertion.

        “In Light, there is only pain.”

        There’s a groan from above her, and the weight slumps, ceasing its rhythm. Lich silently breathes a sigh of relief, although she’s still far too overwhelmed with disgust to really be relieved by any of this. She knows on some level that it’s only been minutes, but her dilated sense of time has stretched the ordeal into what felt like hours.

        The floorboards creak next to her, and the Titan exits the small living room, although Lich still remains effectively paralyzed. A heavy exhaustion has seeped into her chassis, now even worse than the one she was trying to cure by crashing here. Still unable to will herself to move, it isn’t long before unconsciousness claims her again.

  ————————————

        Windy summons his Sparrow within the second he touches down on Luna. His stomach churns as he exits his jumpship, doing his best to keep his eyes on the ground and away from the lifeless red Guardians hanging motionless over the landing zone. The Pyramid must know this is a center of Guardian activity, and so the nightmares swarm here like some kind of macabre flock.

        He passes three more of the crimson phantoms on his way to the dot Phylactery marked on his heads-up display. He gives each of them as wide of a berth as he reasonably can, trying to keep them in his periphery while still steering the vehicle on course. If he looks at one too closely, there's a decent chance he’ll recognize it. He fails to give the third one enough room, and winces under his helmet as it wails at him for help in a voice he’s pretty sure he can put a name to.

        Phylactery’s coordinates lead him to the K1 facility at the far end of Archer’s Line. A short distance in, he finds his roommate’s distinctive hive-bone helmet lying discarded to one side. It’s not until he proceeds down a hallway and searches behind a storage container that he finds the Warlock it belongs to. She doesn’t appear to be in any immediate physical danger, although he wouldn’t think it purely by her posture; she’s curled up in a fetal position on the floor, trembling violently, the shutters over her optics squeezed as tight as they’ll go.

        One of the red phantoms looms over her cowering form. This one is clearly a Titan, and Windy can’t restrain his relieved exhale when he fails to recognize it. It does not turn to acknowledge him as he enters, keeping its blank gaze fixed on the ball of a Warlock curled behind the box.

        It takes Windy a moment to realize that Lich is crying. Her digital optics don’t feature tear ducts, but the anguish in her soft vocalizations is unmistakable. It’s a sound that he doesn’t hear often, but still far more than he’d like.

        Windy steps straight through the phantom towards his friend, passing through it as if it’s not even there. The spectral Titan’s body offers no resistance and induces no sensation. The thing recoils in a mimicry of pain, then disperses into maroon wisps as if it were mist. The instant it vanishes completely, her optics fly open.

        The first thing that Lich sees is Windy leaned over her, right where he had stood, offering her a hand.

        "W-windy?" She accepts the hand graciously, allowing him to pull her to her feet. “What are you doing here?”

        “Phylactery told me you needed an evac.” The somber concern in his tone catches her by surprise, and she briefly feels a pang of guilt for causing him to worry this much.

        Lich emits a single humorless laugh, barely holding in a sob behind it. “Yeah. You could say that.” She’ll have to thank her Ghost for their forethought later. She takes a moment to collect herself, brushing the lunar dust off her robes and trying in vain to suppress her shivering.

        “You didn’t have to come for me.” she tells him frankly, refusing to meet his sympathetic gaze. “I know how much you hate this place.”

        “Lich, it’s fine. There is nothing in all of Sol that could make me leave you behind.”

        For a moment, Lich looks like she’s about to cry again, before she closes the distance between their bodies and embraces Windy in a tight hug. He tentatively returns the gesture, protectively wrapping his arms around her back, and her hold on his torso quickly turns into a death grip. She’s no longer crying, but he takes careful note of the way she still shivers and shakes in his embrace.

        Lich buries her face in the crook of his neck, hiding away from the world in the rough fabric of his Hunter cloak. Her chemical receptors flood with the particles that cling to the garment; it smells like his shampoo and sweat and the dust of a hundred worlds, all composing into a unique odor that is very distinctly Windy. His smell is grounding, bringing her attention back to the here and now.

        “So, did the nightmares get to you?” he asks, tracing his fingers over the top of her fiberglass cranium in the way he knows she likes. He immediately withdraws his hand when she unexpectedly flinches away from the gentle contact. “I thought you hadn’t lost anyone.”

        Lich shakes her head gently against his cloak. “I, uh… I saw him again.”

        Windy’s blood freezes. Then the phantom Titan was—

        “Oh shit, Lich, I’m so sorry.” He suddenly feels very conscious of the way he’s holding her.

        Windy can’t forget the morning that Lich had nearly collapsed into their apartment, utterly disheveled after a long night out, and he had to delicately explain to her that sex is not a required payment for a male friend lending you his couch to crash on. Working through that day had been a painful experience for them both, although Windy has no illusions about which of them had it worse. Despite his seniority as a Guardian, dealing with this particular type of violence was entirely outside of his expertise. To his knowledge, aside from him and Phylactery, she’s never told another soul of what happened that night.

        “This fucking Pyramid.” he spits out venomously, staring out at the lunar expanse beyond the facility. That fucking Titan. Hate festers within his ribcage like rot. At the time, he’d had half a mind to bust down the Titan’s front door with his Golden Gun in hand, ready to vaporize both him and his Ghost. But Lich needed him more than that Titan needed a bullet, and so the obligation to support her had stayed his hand.

        With the Pyramid, though, it’s so much worse. Even though he couldn’t act on his impulse against the Titan, at least there had been some degree of hope there. With how utterly infinitesimal he is compared to the Pyramid’s world-ending might, he doesn’t even get the luxury of a revenge fantasy.

        "It was like—" Lich begins to speak, but stops short as her chassis is taken by a violent shiver. Windy can almost feel the intensity of the chill that runs through her. "Like being there all over again."

        His attention snaps back to her, and all the hate goes cold. His rage is not what Lich needs right now. Staying angry is impossible when she’s still so visibly distressed. He mentally reminds himself that this is her pain, not his; she’s the one who gets to have the revenge fantasy, if she so chooses.

        “Yeah. I... get what that’s like. It sucks, but the suck is ultimately temporary. You’ll get through this.”

        The pair are silent for a moment as Lich’s mind swims. She really wishes she could take his words to heart, but the memory of him freshly burned into her mind is all she can focus on. She tries to clear her thoughts by concentrating on the steady rise and fall of Windy’s chest, while her own remains eternally still. She reminds herself of what’s real: he’s here, holding her in his arms, and soon they’ll be home safe. The danger has long since passed, and was never even here in the first place.

        “I feel disgusting.” Lich voices the thought aloud, her gaze remaining firmly downcast. “I’ve felt disgusting since that night. I don’t know if it’s ever gonna go away.”

        Windy winces, sucking in a quiet breath through his teeth. "That… I lack experience with. But, from the experience I do have, I can tell you that it’s not true." Now he’s the one to strengthen the embrace. Through the heavy weave of her robes, he soothingly runs a hand up and down her mechanical spine, and is relieved when she relaxes into the touch rather than flinching away. "You’re smart, and beautiful, and brave, and you can be really really annoying when you want to be, but I still care about you. You’re the furthest thing from disgusting that I can imagine. What he did doesn’t make you any lesser as a person; you’re still the same Lich I’ve always known.”

        Lich tries to form a response, but words fail her, immediately getting caught in the knot that’s formed behind her speakers. She settles for simply holding Windy close, savoring the feeling of their arms wrapped around each other. Some part of her is still trapped in that sewage pit, but it’s further away now, distanced from her by the closeness to him. For the briefest moment, she believes with absolute certainty that everything he said is true, and almost manages to clamber her way out.

        “Y’know, if Guardians really are amoral, you’re a pretty good counterexample.”

        “Hm?” He turns his head towards hers with a raised brow.

        “Ah, nevermind. Symmetrist ramblings.” Windy can’t help but notice another chill run through her.

        It’s a long while before Lich feels stable enough on her own to leave his arms. When she finally begins to move away, he retracts his protective embrace, allowing her to separate from him without resistance.

        "You ready to head home now? I'll ride with you to the landing zone and fly us back to Earth. We can pick up your jumpship later."

        Lich releases an extended sigh, exhaling her residual tension into the thin lunar atmosphere. “Sure. Thanks for all this, by the way. I… needed to hear that.”

        He gives her a warm, relieved smile. “Don’t mention it.”

        Lich finally escapes from K1 Logistics with her hand firmly in Windy’s. While the Sparrow is intended to be a single-occupancy vehicle, that’s never stopped particularly affectionate Guardians from riding them two at a time. Lich and Windy share the single seat, with her clinging to his back, holding on with her arms wrapped around his midsection.

        The ride back to the landing zone is short, but both Guardians savor it. The red phantoms don’t cause either of them much distress on their return trip. Holding each other close, the nightmares seem just a little bit fainter.

#my writing #whump #lady whump #female whumpee #tw noncon #lich-5 and windy

[danganronpa-ps]

[PS] CHAPTER 5 | Execution

CHAPTER 5 EXECUTION - Fuminori Odane. 7/20 students remaining.

Upon feeling Yoshirou embrace him, he tenses, and never relaxes. It's hard for him to do so, after all, knowing who he was and what he's done; he was a murderer through and through, no matter his intention, or his circumstance. A life was ended by his own two hands, and he was getting his due because of it. However, he does, with hesitant motions, return the hug. He feels as if it's more for the sake of doing so rather than to provide comfort or reassurance, because he knows that he can only give so little. Eventually he lets go, and releases himself from this final embrace. It's agonizing, but his inevitable fate was drawing near. He might as well let go on his own accord. Before he's sent off, he looks at everyone. It requires all his strength, but with a final push, he smiles warmly.

"Keep fighting, okay?"

Sketch + Flats: Apple Painting + Shading: Anya

[HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS]

Before long, Fuminori finds himself enveloped in a cold, suffocating darkness that seemed to press on him from all directions, and fill every part of his body with a sensation of immense heaviness. By all means, he was met face to face with nothing but his own sense of self, but even that was beginning to ebb away with the numbing of his limbs and the fading of his consciousness, leaving behind only the sound of his heart beating wildly against his ears, and the fear that poisoned the blood that coursed through his veins. Perhaps this was what awaited him. Perhaps this was justice. Perhaps this was death. He could do nothing but wait and wonder with what little lucidity he had left, but just as his thoughts began to dissipate into a mere fog,

they suddenly converge, and he wakes up.

The first thing he sees is a blinding light, and the blurry shape of his own hand as he instinctively moves to block it from reaching his eyes. As his senses return to him, he feels his body pressing down against a soft bedding of weeds, and the gentle rays of the sun that shone through the sparsely covered sky, beating down against his being, wrapping him in a comforting blanket of warmth. For a moment, he feels as if he were in a dream, but clarity was next to return, and with it the strength to sit up, skin meeting a gentle breeze thereafter, and eyes, a vast sea of tall grass that swayed in waves with the push of the wind. He looks around, yet strangely, not with fear. The land was unfamiliar to him in every shape and form, but it instilled into him a comfort. A desire. A need to stand.

The horizon expands as he pushes himself to his feet. Now, he sees the subtle rolling of the land, and while abundant with greenery, the distance was another story, barren of anything but the plains the stretched out below him. By all means, there was nowhere to go, but not to Fuminori, for something beyond his sights seemed to pull at him, as if reaching out for an embrace, only to fall short. He’s hesitant; he did not know where to start, after all, and to set off of a journey without direction was something only a fool would do, but the wind then joins in its ushering, blowing past him, behind him, and towards a distant wish.

There’s a moment of doubt, but he eventually turns, and he walks. 

Soon, the sun sets, and the stars begin to shine brilliantly through the thin canopy of clouds while the moon, from the endless void above him, swathes him in its blue glow. Time passes, and his eyelids eventually grow heavy when he comes face to face with inevitable drowsiness, but he doesn’t cease his walking to rest, only pressing forward and onward, up until the sun peeks out from the horizon once again. 

Day. Night. Day. Night.

The scene around Fuminori begins to change, shifting and morphing as if subject to fantasy. The lush green fades into a dusty orange, and from the ground came trees that grew in his wake, sprouting leaves that just as quickly turned red and began to fall off of their branches, trailing behind him like a crimson storm. It’s only a matter of time before every last one falls, and the moment the final leaf leaves its abode, a biting cold quickly fills the air as if on cue.

The vibrant colors vanish under the dust that falls from the sky, which covers the once decorated scenery with a monotonous white. Nothing is spared from the cleansing storm that thickly coats the ground and bare the trees, turning everything into nothing more than dry, hollow shells of what they once were. It’s empty now, more than it ever was, but the farmer continues onward without pause nevertheless, in his persistent search for something in the distance.

Summer. Fall. Winter. Spring.

…

…Huh? How long has it been?

It was only when thousands upon thousands of all sorts of colors bloom from the dirt in the form of equally numerous flowers when reason returns to Fuminori. He pauses all of a sudden for the first time in hours, days, maybe even months, but as soon as he stops letting his legs carry him, it’s as if the blind force possessing him had suddenly left his body. With its departure, all sensation returns, and so does the weight of his journey on his body all at once. 

Suddenly, utter exhaustion and the intense ache of his legs sends him to his knees, while hunger and thirst grip at his being with an iron fist, afflicting him with an indescribable pain. He coughs and heaves as he curls up on the ground; it’s all overwhelming, crippling even. Everything strikes at him all at once and with an engulfing intensity, but it is before he finds himself drowning in this discordant sea that he pulls himself to shore.

He takes a deep breath, slow and steady. 

It sure feels like it, but he knows deep down that it’s not the end of the world. With this thought in tow, he lays there for a moment, maybe two, and then the worst of it subsides, allowing him to stumble back to his feet. He’s barely recovered before he sets his eyes forward, ready to trudge onwards all over again, but this time, something else shows itself to him, appearing in light of his tenacity.

Not so far away, there was a small house, old-seeming but well taken care of, and in front of it six blurry figures, all of which were wholly familiar. 

He runs forward before his thoughts could even begin to catch up to him. In that moment, all becomes clear-- he was chasing his desires, his purpose, his safety, his home. They were what his journey was for, and he was on his final stretch. Of course, how could he not see it? There was nothing more he wanted in the world than to be surrounded by what he loved the most, whether or not life was perfect. Perhaps he had lost sight of this simple philosophy along the way in his pursuit of stability, but now, through unyielding endurance, he is met with it once again. That was all that mattered to Fuminori, who’d suffered in its absence.

The faces of those he cherishes grow clearer when he draws closer. From a few feet away, he could see Naruki and Kayoko wave at him widely, while Kimito, Yoshika and his grandmother stand aside, far more subdued with their actions. In front of them all stands his mother, who remains still, but as soon as Fuminori stumbles over to their doorstep, she opens her arms, and with a big smile, exclaims,

“Welcome home, Fuminori! We all missed you, you know?”

He slows, and stares for a moment in disbelief, before he falls into the arms of his mother without a second thought, closing his eyes as he relaxes into her welcoming embrace. It’s something he missed so, so, dearly. The warmth of family, and the sound of their voices as they greet and tease him all the once; it might’ve been childish for him to call this moment as such, but he was finally home, where he belonged.

He made it.

Bliss graces him for the first time in a long while, and willingly he indulges, starved of anything even close to joy for so long, but before he’s able to fully come to terms with it,

the illusion quickly crumbles as a cold blade pierces his back.

It all happens too fast for him to even cry out, though reality is quick to fall on him as pain contaminates the short-lived joy. He begins to panic, just as anyone would. The arms that were once wrapped around his mother now flail as he grabs at the cloth on her back, and he pulls and pushes, but struggles to escape her grasp. Agony wracks him. Blood begins to fill his lungs and rob him of breath, and it hurts, but nothing stops his desperate attempts to wrench himself away. 

He claws, he twists, he pushes, and he tries his hardest, and yet he’s still weak and unable, even against his mother’s thin arms. Adrenaline does nothing. Resistance does nothing. He can do nothing. His silent gaze then begs the figures standing behind his mother for help, but they only watch, once happy expressions falling into that of resignation.

Indignant, he only continues to fight, but it’s too much. The sting of betrayal, the fear of death, the pounding of his wound, all add to the emotions that begin to mount and burst at the seams, and as tightly wound feelings unfurl into an ugly mess, he chokes out with a feeble breath,

“Why?”

A sudden stillness fills the air. It’s as if his words alone caused time to stop, but the pause does not last, as his mother begins to speak in a way that does not intend to mock, but to comfort.

“Don’t you think it’s about time you rest, Fuminori?”

Rest?

To rest was not what he wanted, he longed to say. He so desperately wished to say that she was wrong, that he could still persist, that he could keep going for all eternity if it meant that they could return to simpler times, but the only sounds that escape his mouth are weak coughs and gurgles. Frustrated, he grits his teeth, trying with all his remaining strength to prove her wrong, but the anger is quick to turn into tears once he realizes that he can’t. It’s stupid. It’s unfair. It’s pathetic, and he curses at himself, but from behind him, his mother’s expression only shifts. 

“…The world is cruel,” she says, “and efforts are not always met with success.” 

Her words are harsh, but her tone is gentle, loving even. She holds Fuminori close, cradling him as if he were still the small child he used to be, but this steady facade is quick to fall apart as her features begin to shake. She lays her head against his shoulder, and with great effort she murmurs, 

“I’m sorry.”

…Ah.

Fuminori was stubborn, but not dumb. He never thought that he would ever have to come face to face with it, and while he had refused to acknowledge it as an end for as long as he’s lived, he knew what this was, in all of its dreadfulness.

This was failure.

Regardless of whether or not Fuminori choses to continue fighting, his body soon refuses to listen to him; his arms fall to his side as the final traces of defiance drain away, and his legs then fail to support his weight despite his protests, causing him to sink to the floor in the arms of his mother, who keeps her hold, slowly lowering herself to the ground with her eldest son slumped over her shoulder. There’s silence, before he hears her begin to weep for him, and eventually, everyone he’s ever loved follow with their own sorrowful wails as they fall to their knees by his side, unable to do anything but watch the boy who’s succumbed to fate’s cruel hand wither away.

In his final moments, Fuminori thinks. He thinks about how he wanted to wipe his loved ones’ tears. He thinks about how he wanted give them a reason to be happy. He thinks about how he wanted to give them everything. He thinks about his many unfulfilled wishes, and his equally plentiful regrets. If he could, he’d chase all of these desires for as long as he had to if it meant that he’d someday come close to a happy ending, but the choice seemed to be his no longer. In the end, it was that of death, in all its finality. 

In his utter powerlessness, Fuminori could do no more but listen to his family’s cries, and lament about how terribile they sounded.

As his vision swims, so do the images in front of him, before they eventually fade along with the flame that one burned brightly within. He dies, but not of his own accord.

Perhaps it’s better this way.

#danganronpa #fanganronpa #drrp #dr #danganronpa roleplay #danganronpa oc #paradigm shift