#but then in the end its just a death. its a very painfully real death.

[homophyte]

well i finished reading the de-loused story booklet

#the mars volta #jesus fucking christ that ending is bleak #idk if anyone else came away with that impression but #the whole of it is so out there that the final piece just...dragging your forcibly into #remembering that its abt a real persons real suicide is just really heartbreaking #i think it is a worthwhile question to ask like. does deloused (story and album) #work as a memorial to julio venegas #does it memorialize. does it do so in a way thats befitting #and honestly i went into reading it thinking 'no' but ive come away with a different impression #theres nuance in it but the gut punch of how barebones the last part is compared to the rest imo make a commentary on them #on the need to like. commodify death into something eclectic and enjoyable and intellectually stimulating and sufficiently weird #but then in the end its just a death. its a very painfully real death. #you dont get 'resolution' on what happens when he 'goes back' because theres no such thing. he dies #and then like....taking that in concert with ambuletz? as a piece separate from the album but functioning as its closer? whoof #its distressing and sad and real in ways i hadnt thought it attribute to the album itself before #and it kinda makes it all the more sad that the selling point of the album is 'morphine and rat poison' #that very knee jerk morbid fascination is exactly what it winds up critiquing #even as some of the earlier parts perpetuate it by being graphic in certain ways and like. trying to hook you on those points #idk its interesting im glad i read it. i may yet again #frances remains my main interest and im glad for it bc i think to a certain extent tearing into deloused with that kind of zealous rigor #is disrespectful to the very dead it seeks to show respect #uhm anyway back to being normal

[blood-orange-juice]

And since I really can't stop comparing these two (they are misinterpreted in a delightfuly similar awful way while being pretty much polar opposites)...

I wrote a post on how Aventurine has all the necessary mythological hero traits.

Meanwhile Tartaglia is… well, Tartaglia.

Nothing special in his origin (the middlest child in a large painfully ordinary family).

No real need to leave home. He just wandered off one day because he decided he should be special.

His power is borrowed, something that contradicts his character and something he doesn't really understand.

He mostly fails to form alliances (with the exception of the Traveler). Not all of it is his fault, but the guy is generally not interested in people who are different from himself.

Around 4.0-4.2 there were a bunch of theories about him having an orphic rebirth, and the authors did play with it (all the Hades imagery in Meropide, and the urban legend about cannibals was a very nice nod to Zagreus), but something didn't quite fit for me and now that I can compare him to Aventurine I know why.

He never really died, did he? We had his Vision the whole time and we knew he was alive. Meanwhile Aventurine's cornerstone loses its glow.

Childe also vehemently refuses to be tragic (that's his charm and the point of his character) or to truly accept things he doesn't like (he plays along, sure, but only because he can't win yet). He never really questions his core beliefs. So death of self is out of question too.

There's his teenage experience, of course, but for a bunch of reasons I don't think that was a true death of self either. He's still moved by his old goals and ideals.

Neither epic nor orphic but a secret third thing. A fool, perhaps.

The thing he does have is what Greek theatre called "hamartia", and Shakespearean lovers "tragic flaw", a trait that leads a person to destruction.

He's a theatre character through and through.

(this makes me think of how Childe's boss fight theme is called "Never-Ending Performance")

#childe #tartaglia #hsr spoilers #aventurine #it's hard to separate greek theatre from mythology of course #but do you see my vision #and instead of greek chorus we only have paimon #but this will have to do

[greensimp]

Gyutaro x Human!Reader: You Think He's Dead and Attempt to Save Him

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

WC - 1.7K

TW - Graphic descriptions of gore, angst, sads, language, death

A/N - idk felt sads today

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

No…. no no no no no…

Your chest tightened painfully as horror filled your features. He had told you to stay away from this fight, but you couldn’t stay away. Your worry for him was certainly going to be the end of you one day. What could you do about the threat if Gyutaro couldn’t even handle it? You’re a simple human, destined to die far before Gyutaro’s natural lifespan makes its end.

Blood and gore surround you, glistening under the moonlight, a scene straight from a horror novel. At first, you couldn’t recognize who the viscera belonged to. Your head felt faint, bile trying to shoot up to your throat. You prayed to whatever god was listening that it wasn’t who you thought it was. Your beloved was one of the strongest beings in existence! There was no way he could lose to whatever had challenged him.

Then you found it.

You refused to accept it until you held it in your hands.

Tremors seized you as what you held in your palm lay limp and lifeless, merely a remnant of the thing you cherish the most in this world.

A tuft of green and black, stained with blood, stares back at you with a confirmation you desperately want to deny.

The bile in your throat finally breaches as you empty your stomach onto the ground in front of you.

This wasn’t real. You told yourself that it was all a bad dream and that you’d wake up.

You barely noticed the distant sounds of crushing blows and fighting as you just sat on your knees and heaved. You were still very much in the middle of a battlefield, it seemed. Was Daki still struggling? Did she know about the condition of her brother?

Once you had nothing else to vomit, you squeezed your eyes shut with the tuft of hair still in your hand and let out a strained sob. The acid that passed through your esophagus made your voice hoarse, but that just made the loss evermore apparent in your wails.

Maybe you should move. Maybe you should run. Maybe you should look for a place to hide. But what does it matter anymore? The only thing that ever mattered was him. Could you accept that he was gone? Would you?

You tried to look forward through watery eyes, only to flinch and let out another cry of anguish.

A disembodied arm lay only several feet away from you. While blurry, the tone of the skin only confirmed your new reality even further.

Without much thought, you crawled through the slick, bloodstained grass. Then, once close enough, you shakily, yet desperately reach out to the arm.

The arm that once held you closer than any mother to their child.

The arm you once felt rubbing your back while you fell ill to a suspicious seafood dish.

The arm you once held while watching dozens of fireworks wash you both with brilliant colors.

The arm you’ll never feel draped over your mid-section as you awaken from slumber ever again.

…

Gyutaro’s attention immediately snaps from the “fight” to a strange sensation he felt far away. He could tell something had gripped one of his body parts, but his ability to pinpoint exactly which one was limited based on the proximity of his actual consciousness.

Over the past hour, he and Daki had been humoring a lower moon that had the audacity to challenge them for the Upper Moon Six title.

Well, humoring would be a bit inaccurate.

They’re humiliating the wretched creature.

In perfect tandem, thanks mostly due to a partially shared consciousness, they played trick after degrading trick on the challenger. This final one was making them think they’d been getting the upper hand by defeating Gyutaro. He allowed himself to be reduced to viscera, the challenger none the wiser of the secret the sibling shared.

If one is standing, the other will never die.

The finale to this fight , which is quickly becoming boring to the siblings, would be Daki luring them back to Gyutaro’s “corpse,” only for Gyutaro to quickly reassemble himself and instill that one final blow to the lowly demon’s ego before ending their pathetic undead life.

At least… that WAS the plan.

Gyutaro curiously allowed for a portion of his consciousness to re-animate an eyeball that had been flown across the forest floor to see what was touching him.

….shit….

While slightly blurry, he could make out enough of a scene to make his heart drop.

Of course, you hadn’t listened to him. You were stubborn.

He wanted to be angry in the moment, and he may have been. However, the jarred movements you were making while hugging his severed arm close to your bloody kimono only filled him with guilt.

What’s worse? You’re covered in his blood. His vile, venomous blood. Even a micro cut could allow his poison to infect you.

“Change of plans, Daki. Cut the bug’s pathetic life short.”

Before she could even question him, his presence was absent from her body.

Daki paused, falling to the ground from the tree branch she was perched on. The other demon growled and dropped a few meters in front of her.

“Finally done running, bitch? Just cause your abomination of a brother is currently a red mist on the ground doesn’t mean I’m done with you-“

“Yeah yeah, sure, listen. I don’t have time to babysit you anymore, kay?”

Not even a second later, without giving them an opportunity process what she just said, six pink obi belts came from every direction and impaled the demon’s body.

“Have fun watching the sunrise, bug.”

Angry, pained gurgling sounds followed as Daki began to walk away. With a belt coming out of the back of their throat and through their mouth, they couldn’t spit any more bile. They’re done for.

…

An idea emerged from your irrational and erratic mind. Maybe… maybe it wasn’t over. Not just yet. You were desperate and unwilling to accept his death.

You stared down at the lifeless arm when a memory shot through your thoughts.

He can regenerate, right? The more humans he eats, the stronger he becomes. What if you… what if you could feed him somehow?

You had very little understanding of how demons worked. Gyutaro tries to keep that life away from you as much as he can.

You hurriedly looked around, hope filling your chest when you find a sharp stone laying within arms reach of you. You quickly grab it, bring it to your wrist, and…

“You wanna die?!”

Before you could register the familiar voice that came from seemingly every direction, a foot kicked the stone out of your grasp and into the brush.

The action worked like a flashbang, sound appearing to not exist as your frozen body is unable to process anything.

After what felt like minutes, but may have actually been moments, your head snapped up to find the owner of the foot, only for your eyes to widen in horror once more.

A pair of disembodied legs, while obviously belonging to Gyutaro, lacked the rest of their owner. Yet, they stood in front of you, as lively as though they were a part of a whole person. The flesh exposed where the abdomen would begin was writhing in a rapid and grotesque manner.

“Wh-wha-“

“Stupid girl! This is why I told ya to stay at home!”

Suddenly the arm in your grasp was ripped from you by an invisible force.

Then, various masses of flesh seemed to enter a vacuum and return to fit a complex puzzle that was the rest of his body.

What looked like it should take hours happened in mere moments. The abdomen, the torso, the arms, then finally, the head…

The eyes that bore into yours with what appeared to be blinding rage.

The eyes you never thought you’d gaze upon ever again.

Your eyes became misty, slight disbelief being the only thing keeping you from tackling him in an embrace.

He looked to be screaming, but all you heard was the melodic sound of his living voice. The confirmation that your love was still here.

“Are you listening to me?! Ya realize how dangerous the stunt you pulled was?! HUH?!”

Was he mad? Maybe. Was he scared? Definitely. He just witnessed you almost poison yourself in vain. He couldn’t fathom your stupidity, but he had realized in the moments before you sliced you skin just how easily you could be ripped away from him. Even your own hands were a threat.

“You woulda died! And I coulda done NOTHIN’ ABOUT IT!! You’re a HUMAN! A WEAK HUMAN!”

A weak human he can’t live without.

“DO YA NEVER THINK BEFORE YA DO THINGS?! DO YA- OOF-“

His fit was interrupted by the entirety of your body weight being flung at him with great force. He stumbled backward as you clung to him, eventually sending him falling on his back.

Still stunned, he stared down at your form in surprise. You had begun wailing into his chest as if your life hinged on the strength of your lungs.

Feeling the adrenaline dissipating, the realization sunk in deep.

You genuinely believed he was dead.

He saw how broken you would be if he were to really die.

You need him just as much as he needs you.

He hadn’t realized his hands were shaking until he went to hold you closer.

“Hey…”

You couldn’t hear him. All you could do was desperately cling to him.

“M’not goin anywhere, calm down-“

He peeled you off of him and held you up by your shoulders, forcing you to look at his face.

It was then that you finally tried to speak, barely able to hiccup through your tears.

“I *hic* I-I- thought- *hic* I-“

“I know, I know-“

He couldn’t watch anymore, returning your body to his chest where you can cling to him again.

It was a strange feeling to be needed so much. Never in his lives has he ever been needed like this outside of his sister. It was something he never thought would come to be real.

Yet here is his fairytale. You.

The only person he could ever trust with his heart as much as he could with Daki.

You no idea how sacred or how intertwined you had become with his own.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyutaro x reader #fanfiction #gyutaro x y/n #demon slayer #fanfic

[warsamongthestars]

One of the most interesting things about TCWs Rex's character arc struggles is that, he's constantly put into contrasts.

Rex, as we know him, stands to be the main representation of a Clone Trooper. He's the first major named CT Character, that isn't Commander Cody, who doesn't have any ties to the films (Unlike Commander Cody), and thus can act and be written with far more freedom to explore.

[ You can't write Commander Cody too much by the end of the day, because one, years of expectations weigh, and two, he still has to shoot Kenobi at the end of everything. ]

Rex has two major conflicts in his arc, that represent the three defining points of clone troopers:

Loyalty to their Brothers

Loyalty to the System

Loyalty to themselves

Let's have some examples.

Our first major touch up with this, is the exact Opposite of all three: Sergeant Slick.

He is not loyal to his brothers (And gets a lot of them killed, whilst blaming the Jedi), he is not loyal to the system (He's a traitor), and he's not loyal to himself (He will make a lot of claims... which are unsubstantiated, because he gets a lot of people killed for purposes of greed and perceived slights).

This one is your easy Villain. Its easy to see, via Slick, that Loyalty to Brothers, Systems and Self is very simple.

But TCWs takes it a step further into complication.

Cut Lawquane, a deserter, is not loyal to the system (because it certainly isn't loyal to him), is loyal to himself, but is neutral when comes to brotherly loyalty.

( I say neutral, because he was willing to slay Rex if it meant staying free and his family safe. He did stop, because he's true to himself, and the self he wants to be isn't someone who kills people... Its just that sometimes, what is wanted, and what it is needed, isn't always the same thing. )

This is the first major bang up to Rex's Character Arc, because now we have a decent enough brother who is absolutely Not Loyal To the System that Rex is. And eventually, Rex lets him go, showing that while Rex is Lawful Good--he leans more towards good, whilst still retaining lawful plausibility.

This step slapped Rex, but it was a surprise he could easily, just simply, file away and not think about too hard. Deserting is going to happen when you're in an army of millions, and if they're off to be farmers instead of soldiers, well that's okay and a very nice thought.

The real kicker was Umbara.

One could argue that the Lola Sayu Mission should've hit Rex, but instead of Rex, it hit Fives the hardest (And with good reason). It's probably why there was an implication of a fallout between Lola Sayu and Umbara ("Just like Old times, Rex.")

And Fives becomes a contrasting challenge:

Loyal to Self

Loyal To Brothers

Neutral to Disloyal to System

Fives would bend the system until it breaks if it meant saving his brothers and more. He's the Chaotic Good to Rex's Lawful Good.

Rex is painfully upright and loyal to the system, so when one of his best and closest brothers decides "fuck this", it shakes him up.

Especially when Rex is finally confronted with how rotten the System gets: by General Pong Krell.

To contrast the contrast, on other side of Rex is Dogma, who is Fives' opposite. The Lawful Neutral.

Loyal to the System above all Else.

Neutral to Disloyal to Brothers.

( It does not help that Anakin Skywalker only recognizes Lawful as being Obedient rather than "adherence and or comfort to a code or set of rules" and thus draws more parallels between Rex and Dogma, than Rex and Fives. )

The Umbara Arc throws Rex through the whole loop, with all its conflicts. Especially the challenges it would make to Rex's whole character and showing him how far things can go.

Until finally, Rex finding what lines to draw in the dirt when it comes to "Loyalty to the End".

... But not enough to save anyone.

Then comes the Conspiracy arc, and while we don't know Rex's side, we do have implication of the aftermath.

The coverup of Fives' death (Because it would've had to been), by brother no less (Another big thing), and with the chip arc, which Rex did look into--would've put Rex up against someone he could not and would not possibly be capable of working through or against: Anakin Skywalker.

( Obviously for narrative purposes, Skywalker can't be stopped less TCWs became an AU instead )

Rex finds that his closest and brightest was labeled traitor and terrorist for his attack on the chancellor, via the very same bulletin points that Rex's character lives by, and it would immediately put him up against Skywalker.

The reason being, is that Skywalker is close to the Chancellor, and likely told Rex to drop any investigation.

And through speculation based on aftermath episodes... and What we know by this point...

I bet that Rex did not want to lump Anakin with Krell as a "System Problem". Because Rex worked with Anakin, and Rex's character falls in line with Anakin, and to consider Anakin to be part of the problem would go against Rex's character--thus, it is "unthinkable" and much easier to simply... Believe that Anakin has the best intentions.

( Even if that came at the cost of Fives. )

( Even though it would come at the cost of the 501st in the future--Rex only did enough that it would save his Life, and Ahsoka's, but nobody else's. He pays dearly for that comfort in Anakin at the cost of Fives, and the cost of Everyone. )

Moving to S7... and the Bad Batch.

Rex comes up against his absolute Opposite once more--in Sergeant Hunter, and the various Bad Batchers.

We've hit full circle.

Hunter commands a small squad that he pretty much lets do whatever, whilst Rex hangs on commands and commanding. Hunter is Evasive, Rex is Honest; Hunter gets stressed by Command, Rex does not.

Hunter is endlessly snarky, whilst Rex is straightforward. Hunter loses his faith midway through Mission, and Rex does not. Hunter's appearance is against all regulations, whilst Rex is clean shaven.

Hunter wasn't made for command, he just wasn't the stronger personality in the Batch to cause problems, whilst Rex is trained and made to command.

The one thing they do have in common, is loyalty to brothers, and the difference is--Rex doesn't hang on to anyone in lieu of the bigger picture, but Hunter does, existing in the smaller pictures.

( That's the TCWs implication-- If I went into the TBBshow, Hunter would not be coming out nearly as good. )

With the other batchers, Rex comes up against each one being individually against an aspect of his character.

Tech is disloyal to the system, he's as far from any sort of clone soldier you can get, and he's not even dressed for it. Tech comes in as a research first.

Wrecker is disloyal to self, bolstering about his skills and making light of the situation before it crashes on him. His disloyalty isn't a case of selling out--its a case of simply not considering himself in any measure. He puts others above him.

Crosshair is disloyal to brothers. He makes it a point to start shit in the middle of a mission, question authority, making disparaging remarks, and attacking a sense of self. The difference here is that, instead of accumulating falsehoods (like Slick), or physically attacking--he attacks the comforting falsehoods that a clone trooper would take on out of loyalty to brothers, system and self. If you're a brother, why don't you act it. If you cared so much for this one guy, why did you leave him behind. If you were that good in your little system, why did the specialists get called in. ( Crosshair is also a dick, but one can understand why he does things. )

Each Bad Batcher serves as a challenge to Rex's character. They are as far from Lawful as possible--but they are Good.

And then there was Echo.

But Echo doesn't serve as a challenge to Rex's character. If anything, Echo might serve as the "reward" for Rex's character arc. He saved at least one Brother, and one of his closest.

...

Unfortunately, Rex's full character arc wasn't ever really fully realized, because he is, fundamentally, a satellite character for other characters to bounce off of, even if those characters are other Clone Troopers.

( hell, Rex serves to contrast Cody, and neither of those too really had full Arcs )

Its why Fives took more attention in Umbara than Rex. Its why Ahsoka gets off scott free at the end of the day but Rex doesn't.

Its why when certain points of Jedi pop up, particularly that even our main character Jedi aren't really all that Lawful Good and do fuck up and waste a lot of brothers' lives for it, that Rex does not intervene.

Because, his character was never given that development to step in and tell someone to "Hey, stop, you are going to get people Killed."

A full Arc would've allowed that, and he wasn't afforded one.

A post TCWs Arc for Rex to get that Development, to fully understand all he went through and implement it into a new character arc, was implied with Rebel's Rex... but is currently unfulfilled.

( Don't be shocked that I don't consider TBBshow to count. )

But there ya go, a nice sum Analysis on Rex.

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #the clone wars #the bad batch #tcws tbb arc #umbara #captain rex #analysis

[strawberry-jan]

I had thought that my days of writing long fandom effort-posts were behind me but then I finished Gaiden and welp, here I am. I ugly sobbed at the ending and then spent the next several hours ugly sobbing in textual form at friends. I have some thoughts; I am going to put a few spoiler-heavy ones (read: a lot of them) under the cut after this brief (read: lengthy) spoiler-free introduction.

Y6 and Y7 left me feeling like the writers should’ve just retired Kiryu from the series after Y5, even if it meant leaving him lying there in the snow and never following up on whether he’d actually made it back to Haruka or was just dreaming. I have complained at length about nearly every aspect of Y6, but since it��s directly relevant to my feelings about Gaiden, let me state my gripe with the ending specifically: it was an absolutely bizarre move to position that game’s ending (1) after Y5 and (2) within a game that hits the player over the head repeatedly with the message that setting yourself on fire to keep other people warm is a mistake that hurts not only you but also those around you.

Kiryu walks down the sunny path away from Morning Glory at the end of Y6, and everything about the framing suggests that even though it’s bittersweet, it ultimately tends toward sweet: the old generation has made way for the new, Yuta is there to look after Haruka in Kiryu’s place (don't get me started on this), and his family is safe for good. The problem with this is that it’s a shit resolution considering the game’s themes and also a devastating ending specifically for Kiryu. We’ve just come off the heels of Y5, where it’s more obvious than ever that despite his gruff, stoic exterior, at heart he’s a warm, caring man who badly needs to be with the people he loves. Exiling himself to Nagasugai made him unspeakably unhappy; what he wants, and what everyone in his family wants, is to be together, and this is something that Y6 harps on initially and then forgets in its ending. Walking away from Morning Glory forever is condemning himself to a lingering death and neither Y6 nor Y7 acknowledges this meaningfully. (Y7, in fact, is infuriating about this; Kiryu’s cameo there felt so cheap and unnecessary that I, one of the man’s biggest fans, was irritated at seeing him there.) It would have been kinder to just kill him outright at the end of Y6.

In that context, Gaiden feels like an apology that also tells you, gently, that we're at the end of an era - for real this time.

Like a Dragon Gaiden: The Man Who Still Thinks Sunglasses Are a Proper Disguise is a roughly 25-hour outing (depending on how much time you sink into mahjong and whether you can get over your embarrassment long enough to close your blinds and watch the painfully awkward live-action hostess videos) in which the writers spend most of the run-time reassuring you, “Yes, actually, we do understand this character and the ramifications of his decision.” There are so many points in the story where it comes up that his family is the one thing that Kiryu wants and the one thing he can’t have. He’s explicit about his desire; you can go so far as to ask a wish-granting vagrant in a silly substory full of Dragon Ball (and also ball) jokes to give him his happy, peaceful life back, because even when Kiryu’s up to his balls in testicular puns, that’s what’s on his mind. There’s no façade that he puts up; the game simply acknowledges this want and goes, “Yes, that was the lesson you learned and discarded; sorry that you can’t act on it anymore, but that window closed in 2016 when you decided to die instead of taking the briefcase full of cash.”

So. This is sad enough. But what really broke me about the ending – and what I know really broke a lot of other people – was the fact that it’s so devastatingly clear that even if Kiryu were to have taken the Omi’s terrible offer to do away with Hanawa and get himself back to Okinawa, it wouldn’t have mattered. I think the writers were very deliberate about having everyone refer to the “kids in Okinawa” (yes, also in Japanese) when they make threats toward Kiryu’s family or talk about his desire to see them again. Kiryu thinks of them as his kids, but when he looks at the recording on Hanawa’s tablet, he sees adults with adult jobs and adult lives of their own. They love him, but their world has moved on without him, and there are no “kids in Okinawa” to return to; all this time, Kiryu has been clinging to a vision of his peaceful life with his kids that doesn’t exist and, in fact, cannot exist anymore. The series has always taken place (barring the spinoffs) roughly in the present moment with real time passing between entries, and I’ve never felt it so painfully acutely as I did in that moment when Kiryu realizes that Haruto can write.

And this is all of a piece, I think, with the speech he gives earlier in the game about wanting to do right by Kazama, Nishiki, and Yumi – more idealized visions of people he once knew and still loves. Hell, even though I’m disappointed not to get the fanservice that would’ve been Kiryu talking to Daigo, Majima, and Saejima at length, none of those members of the old guard have interacted with him since he left the hospital and went to jail at the start of Y6. It’s not just his kids who have moved on: Daigo is doing things for himself without sneaking back into Suzuki Taichi’s life to beg him for advice, and though Majima does roll his eye at Kiryu and tell him to stick around for a bit after the brawl (and the little knife-throw made me go hohohoh because I'm shameless and will take whatever scraps the studio deigns to give me), he and Saejima are bickering and joking around with each other like an old married couple. They’ve moved on, too, and Kiryu’s world is ghosts all the way down.

It's not all miserable, of course. I do genuinely love that Kiryu’s kids are happy, and although Kiryu sobs that he needed them more than they needed him, that seems more like a function of his chronically low self-esteem than anything based in reality. You can tell that the Morning Glory kids regarded him as a positive force in their lives and that they still do as adults – Taichi, for instance, says that he decided to be a firefighter because he wanted to protect people like Kiryu did. Kiryu’s family looked up to him but, crucially, without falling into the cycle that Kiryu did when he looked up to his own father figure. And it really warms my heart that clearly Haruka has been telling Haruto about her dad, such that the kid knows enough about oji-san to draw a picture of him with the rest of his family. I think a lot of other media’s writers would have chosen to make the Morning Glory kids bitter about Kiryu’s absence, to have them resent their dad for repeatedly disappearing on them. Maybe they did in fact feel upset with him for a while, but the video presents them all as happy and hopeful that maybe someday their not-dead dad will come back to have a drink with them – and I do hope that Y8 allows this to happen in some way. It wouldn’t be a return to his old life, but it would be something.

Anyway: I’d feel weird about talking at such great length about all of this without talking about the Big Dissolution Brawl and everything around it. It's all connected, after all. Just as Kiryu comes to the painful acknowledgement that his little world has moved on, so too does he have to beat it into Shishido’s skull that the organization that he’s still clinging to is a thing of the past. It’s not just that anti-Yakuza laws are making it more difficult for them to function and that the police and politicians have found ways to use them as scapegoats and pawns. It’s also that everyone who’s been in the business long enough understands that even the best men among them are still bastards and their organizations aren’t worth saving. Tsuruno – probably my favourite new character – is a fiercely loyal man who’s known for taking guys like Shishido under his wing; he also has no compunctions about plotting to murder Hanawa, threatening Kiryu’s family as a manipulation tactic, threatening Kiryu himself with a red-hot branding iron, and using Kiryu as an accessory to murder. Notable cool dude Watase made use of the Kijin Clan because their assassination services were necessary for him to get ahead, and he and Tsuruno readily discard Nishitani III the second he becomes a liability – gotta break a few eggs to make an omelet, after all. (I am not going into anything else about whatever the writers thought they were doing with Nishitani. I think there was something to do there with the game's interest in names and legacy but then, in classic RGG Studio fashion, they forgot to elaborate on it in any meaningful way.) For the first time since the late 80s, Kiryu is even forced to explicitly consider Kazama’s faults – albeit only briefly, and only in a substory.

Shishido himself wants to be the final boss of a previous game as if there's some kind of throne left to contend for (and his final fight is actually pretty reminiscent of the brawl with Aizawa, a high point in the series). And, at Kiryu’s insistence, he’s allowed to get out his blustering final speech about it – but he shouts about refusing to allow the old guard to dismantle the structure he’s ascended while everyone around him who actually matters is standing there, like, “Dude, the Tojo and Omi are over; read the room.” We're playing through the epilogue to Kiryu's saga, and we're seeing everything that drove that saga's conflicts being tied up or taken apart as needed. The kids will be alright no matter what happens to Kiryu, and while we already saw the Tojo Clan bite it in Y7 after its long decline over the course of the series, we're finally seeing that from the perspective of the guy who prolonged things by shoving Daigo into the chairman's seat and coming back to Kamurocho once a year or so for a Millennium Tower punch-out. Kiryu even acknowledges that, like Shishido, he loves this shit - "You hear someone out there's stronger... And soon your only thought is how to defeat them," he tells the man. But he goes on to say that that dream is meaningless in the face of other people's daily struggles. Again, it's time for everyone to move on. It's time for you as the player to move on, and you're being given one last real-time shirt-rip brawl against a man who won't accept that the era is over in order to underscore the point that it's over.

I’m not entirely sure how to finish this already too long post. There's a lot I haven't even touched on. I will say that I love Hanawa and Akame and Tsuruno. I love going back to Sotenbori. I love yet another game in which I can slam through the koi-koi and mahjong completion lists. I love all the callbacks and the sequence in the castle where you fight not-Kiryu and they've given him Gun and Sword like some kind of budget Sakamoto Ryoma. I love playing dress-up with my big burly guy. I love everything about the big boys’ night out in Chapter 4. I love that immediately after being tortured by Daidoji agents Kiryu can wander into the next room over to ask for a turn on their Sega Master System. I love how funny this game is when it's not socking me repeatedly in the gut. More than anything, I love that even though Kiryu’s enduring the world’s most drawn-out death sentence he’s still Kiryu and he’ll still snark at people and get really into little cars and involve himself in people's problems at the drop of a hat. I wish that I’d gotten to see Kiryu getting tripe with the old Tojo guard at the end of the game, but that’s what fic is for. I will not be writing that fic any time soon because I’m still way too deep in my feelings about this game to write anything cheerful about it. As I said, Gaiden feels like an apology, and while it made me cry harder than a video game has ever made me cry before, I’m so happy to have received it.

#like a dragon gaiden #there are no spoilers above the cut but if you click through uhhh watch out #this was an embarrassing number of words SORRY #and I hardly touched on some aspects of the plot

[cactusringed]

Etho and Bdubs' meeting | Political Intrigue AU

Putting it in a tumblr post because idk if I can commit to a full fic that'll be posted on ao3 yet so I'll share this way

Word Count: 3,715

Content Warnings: Depictions of a staged suicide

The blood moon illuminates the night sky, painting the surrounding clouds crimson. Looking up through the glass roof of the observatory tower, Bdubs knows that today is to be the day he dies. 

Even before his vision, he’d known, somehow, that the blood moon would signify his end. He was always attracted to it like a moth to a flame. Except moths aren’t aware — Bdubs doesn’t think — of the fate awaiting them once their delicate wings brush against the harbinger destined to extinguish their life. Bdubs is. He is, he believes, the most painfully aware one could be about their demise. The blood moon calls to him the way a jailer would a prisoner on death row, marching him through that last corridor towards his end. 

“No, wait, I think a siren would be a more accurate metaphor,” Bdubs muses out loud, rubbing at his scruffy stubble. He should’ve shaved. Perhaps he still can. No. He’s meant to look this way, he knows. Images of his destiny flash in his mind and Bdubs screws his eyes shut in hopes to chase them away. 

It doesn’t work. He takes one shaky breath, then another. His lungs ache. When he opens his eyes again, his vision blurs with tears that he quickly blinks away. 

After spending over a year aware of the grisly details of his own death, one would expect Bdubs to have come to peace with it. He certainly thought he did. Yet here he is, staring up at the moonlit sky for what he knows is the very last time. Fighting back not only tears but primal fear that screams at him to rattle the bars of the cage fate has sealed him in. His heart gallops in his chest with such force he swears he feels its echoes against his ribcage, all the way up to his throat. His Adam's apple bobs as he forces his gaze downwards, to the workshop he’s built in the main observatory room. To his very last painting:

A landscape - that of the country of Oblivion. He’d hoped to finish it before his death, but he supposes the least he can do is bring it to an acceptable state. He wonders how much his work will sell for. He wonders if he can ask his murderer to burn it all before they leave. 

Bdubs picks up his brushes and palette, the oil paints still wet from his last session, and works at the landscape. He paints a tree — thin, spindly, and grey — only to cover it almost immediately. He refines the cliff-face, as he’s done dozens of times, overworking the surface into a mush of dull colors and clashing textures before he throws his equipment to the ground in frustration. 

His mind’s eye always had trouble focusing on the picture he wanted to bring to life, the shapes blurring together even after spending hours studying references of Obliviate scenery — but now, with the promise of death hanging over his head, he finds it downright impossible to not only focus but also keep his every muscle from shaking. Come on, he wants to tell himself, it’s not like you’re going up on stage to give a speech. It’s just the day of your own murder. Relax.

Bdubs worries he might puke. Or cry. That would be worse. 

Another couple of breaths in and out. Shakier than before. He’s restless, to the point he knows he won’t be able to sleep no matter how late it gets, but also won’t be able to get anything useful done. What is there to do that would be useful mere hours, or potentially minutes, before his death? He could draft a will. He doesn’t know how to write one. Maybe he should’ve learned before he had to go and die, but to be entirely fair to him… no, he did know it was going to happen tonight for some time now. Ever since he knew of the blood moon. It just didn’t feel real enough to warrant any preparation, somehow. 

Bdubs looks at the unfinished landscape. The sculk that snakes through every crack of the cliff-face. It’s too flat, despite how hard he’s worked at it. It resembles the sketches and croquis he’s studied in tomes, but not the feeling they elicit in him. That infinite darkness that threatens to suck him in. He reaches for his paints, but pauses. Gazes up, instead. Up and around himself, searching for that blackness, for that feeling.

It must be here. They must be here. Whoever Oblivion sent to end him. Bdubs isn’t stupid — he knows they’ve been following him for a while. Studying his every move, habits, his entourage. Yet he’s never been able to feel the weight of their presence. Not a shadow has ever been out of place. No matter how hard Bdubs has looked, how much he tossed his room upside down. How much he’s raised his voice.

But he’s got to keep trying.

“Assassin,” Bdubs speaks in the Obliviate tongue, struggling with the soft and flat tones it forces upon him. “Show yourself. I know you’re here. You have to be. You’re here to kill me, are you not? So, show yourself. Let me see my own murderer before I die.”

Bdubs waits. He waits for what feels like a full minute, only to be met with complete, suffocating silence. His lip twitches downwards, but he keeps his chin high, and continues to speak in a register he knows to be far more proper than he prefers to speak in his native Celesti tongue. He should’ve worked harder on his lessons. 

“I’m unarmed. I don’t deal in violence. I just… wish to see your face. Then you can kill me,” Bdubs walks slowly, carefully, to the oak desk covered in loose paper and canvas pressed against one of the walls. His fingers trace over his sketchbook. He lets out a soft laugh, peering back up at the ceiling, looking out for any movement overhead. “I bet it’s not often you get to speak with your victim. I can offer you some critique. Because I have to say, the method you have planned for me… Well, it’s a bit too quiet. It’s like….” he frowns, unable to think of the right Obliviate word. “It’s boring,” he settles on the Celesti equivalent, before he switches back to the assassin’s tongue. “It will make my retainers suspect foul.”

Still nothing but silence, no matter how long Bdubs waits. A long sigh, as he lets go of held breath. He takes his sketchbook, worn at the spine, and holds it to his chest. He turns, raises a foot, intends to take a step — only to let out a roar of terror as he’s suddenly faced with a tall figure come out of nowhere. 

Bdubs stumbles back, and as quickly as he began screaming he slaps both hands over his mouth to silence himself, letting the sketchbook fall open by his feet. His back hits the edge of his desk, and he waits as the figure stands still as a statue. One, two — his eyes dart to the door, listening for guards, servants, anyone who might have heard the commotion. Only when he’s certain no one intends to ruin his moment does he drop his hands down, letting out a high pitched giggle. 

“You scared the life outta me!” he exclaims in Celesti. “I mean,” he corrects himself in quiet Obliviate: “You sca—”

The figure holds up a hand, and Bdubs stills, before letting out another, softer chuckle.

“Right. You understand Celesti. There’s no need to translate,” He insists on continuing in Obliviate, but it does save him some time.

Another stretch of silence. The figure lets their hand drop. They remain still, and though it fills the air with an awkwardness that would normally make Bdubs want to keep yapping — he instead finds himself transfixed by their presence. 

Slowly, as to ensure they don’t take it as an offensive move, Bdubs leans down to pick up his sketchbook. He opens it towards the end, and meets with a sketch of himself laid in bed, arms stretched out at his sides, small rivulets of blood dripping down. The blood moon shining in the window. He’s transfixed by it for just a moment, his throat closing up.

He flips the page. More angles of his dead body. A few sketches of gloved hands taking hold of his wrist. The fingers are slender, long — one might call them delicate, even as they hold a blade to Bdubs’ wrist. 

A study of how the blood flows. It pearls at the edge of the cut at first. There’s a few attempts at getting it quite right. The amount of blood that begins to trickle, then pour out. The way it soaks Bdubs’ sheets. 

Then, finally, the main object of interest: The assassin. His sketches become more abundant, but less clear, as he focuses on them. Looking up at the figure standing in front of him, then down at his sketches, he’s happy to note he got their build right: Tall, slender, but not too much. Loose clothes that likely hide solid muscles. That’s another thing he realises he portrayed perfectly: Their outfit. The long, dark cloak hiding the near entirety of their figure. The large hood obscuring their head alongside a scarf wrapped around the bottom half of their face. The only part that remains uncovered is their eyes and a few strands of silver hair — easy enough to remember and portray, one would think. Yet it always remained blank both in Bdubs’ memory and sketches.

The surface of some of the pages have been rubbed raw from his eraser. Some have frustrated scribbles all over the assassin’s face. Others have just been left blank. It’s endlessly frustrating, and if he doesn’t get to do anything else before he dies, he hopes to at least fix this. 

“Can I…?” Bdubs reaches for the assassin’s scarf — only for them to suddenly jerk back before his fingers can even brush against the fabric. 

It’s the first movement he’s seen from them, a proof they’re not just a hallucination. It makes him jump, and he tenses in expectation of a blow that never comes. The assassin just adjusts their scarf securely on their face before peering down at Bdubs’ sketchbook. They point. A silent question hangs in the air.

Bdubs frowns. “Can you use your words?”

“No.”

Their voice is deep, surprisingly so. It’s also rough around the edges — the way one’s voice sounds after waking up in the morning. And a bit muffled by the scarf. 

“Very clever,” Bdubs grins, reaching to shove playfully at the assassin. They move away. “It does mean you can speak though, so— Oh, how do you say in Obliviate… you know, like… gotcha? Do you guys have a word for gotcha?”

Bdubs swears he hears a quiet, near inaudible snicker from the other. 

“You can switch to Celesti. I’d rather you did, actually,” they say in perfect Celesti. Not a trace of an accent. Not even an intonation amiss, despite how much more melodic Celesti is compared to the flatness of Obliviate. Bdubs could mistake him for a native if he didn’t know better, and if it wasn’t for the paleness of his face. 

“Right, yeah, I was tryna impress you, but turns out I’m real rusty. But hey, I was doing well enough, yeah? Since you came down from your little hidey hole?”

Silence. They’re still pointing. 

“...So, uh, what’d you want my sketchbook for?”

The silence stretches, until the assassin seemingly remembers it’s their turn to speak. “I want to see.”

Bdubs raises a brow. “Not the most eloquent sort, are ya?”

They blink.

“Just gimme a second, okay?” 

Bdubs reaches for one of his charcoal pencils, and holds the book open against his chest. He peeks up at the assassin, then down at the page, lightly finishing up one of his attempts at a portrait. He sticks out his tongue as he adds the outline of lips he can barely see through the scarf, refines the shape of their face, and draws the long, white eyelashes caressing scarred skin. The hint of sculk Bdubs can barely see, pulsing like veins burrowing deep within the assassin’s skin. He goes at it for a moment, before he finally gives up with a dissatisfied huff. 

“It’s not as pretty as you are in real life,” he holds the sketchbook out to the assassin. “But have a looksie, if you want. It’s kind of… Ah, well, you can keep it as a souvenir after you’ve killed me! I’m sure in a few decades you’ll be able to resell it for some pretty money. I mean, can you imagine?” Bdubs gestures when the assassin takes hold of the book. “‘The prophet prince’s last drawings.’ People will fight for it!”

The assassin doesn’t seem to find it quite as funny as Bdubs does. They stare at him blankly, jaw slack, before seemingly remembering to look down at the pages, ignoring Bdubs’ grin as they do. He doesn’t let it get him down. Instead he watches their piercing grey eyes dance across the pages. He doesn’t think he did them justice. He wishes he had more time. They genuinely are beautiful.

Their fingers run over the sketches. As they study the depictions of themselves knocking Bdubs unconscious and slitting his wrist, Bdubs can’t help but hyperfocus on their hands. They’re like a pianist’s. He wonders if they play instruments. Are Obliviate assassins allowed to partake in hobbies? Arts? 

“I wasn’t sent by anyone,” their voice force Bdubs out of his imaginings. They stop on a page depicting them hopping out of Bdubs’ bedroom through the window and disappearing into the darkness of the night. It was a bit of a challenging pose to figure out. Bdubs is proud of that sketch. He doesn’t think it’s what they’re admiring. “My actions were planned by myself, in opposition to my orders. You are dangerous, but no one seems to see that.”

Bdubs swallows heavily. A strange calm had settled over him, ever since the assassin revealed themselves — but their saying that turns his blood to ice. He’s suddenly aware of every inch of his body, and the way they scream at him to run, or hide, or fight — something. Instead, he stays frozen as the assassin circles him, takes in the room as if they hadn’t been spying on him for stars know how long. 

“You showing me this,” they tap their fingers on the pages. “It made me realise something I hadn’t considered before.”

Bdubs opens his mouth to speak, but the assassin continues before he gets even a sound out:

“If I choose not to kill you tonight. What happens with your vision?”

“I…” Bdubs looks down at his dead body laid on the pages. It’s hard to speak. He should stop staring. He can’t. “I don’t… know. Every single thing I’ve predicted has come true, no matter how hard I’ve worked to stop them. I don’t know what happens if… if they don’t. I think it would just push away the inevitable. If you don’t kill me today, then you’ll do it on the next blood moon. Or the one after. It’s not the first blood moon I’ve seen since the vision, after all. I could just be wrong on the exact date. Both of us could be.”

The assassin shakes their head. “Even if the date isn’t right, I won’t do it like this,” they gesture at the book. “So it still wouldn’t be true. Besides, you knew this blood moon was to be the one. I’ve been watching you for a long time. You’ve never called out to me the way you have tonight. You knew it was today.”

“I just… felt it, somehow. I tend to, with my visions. Even if nothing indicates a specific date within the vision itself, I just… feel it, when it’s about to happen,” he shrugs. “With normal prophecies — you know, the one they do all those fancy rituals for? With those, it’s kind of a fifty-fifty as to whether they’ll actually happen. But mine have always, always come true, no matter what. I’m just too good at this divination thing!” He laughs. It comes out wrong. Stilted. Tearful. 

The assassin watches Bdubs pace. 

Bdubs’ eyes find the image of the assassin’s bloodied blade, placed in his limp hand. 

“...I don’t wanna die,” he finally admits, quietly. A few tears roll their ways down his cheeks. “I just know — well, I don’t know… what’s meant to, to happen. If you stop it, I mean. I don’t know what happens if you don’t kill me. If I— If I wake up, tomorrow. I don’t know what… what would happen. I’m not meant to. It— It won’t. It won’t happen. You know?” he looks up, his lips trembling uncontrollably. 

He feels like a damn child. 

The assassin is obviously uncomfortable. Their previously relaxed posture grows suddenly tense. Their shoulders are almost all the way to where Bdubs assumes their ears would be. They reach into their coat and Bdubs gasps, sharply. His eyes squeeze shut. He expects the stab of a knife. For all of it to have been a ruse. A way to finally end their conversation and get to the very reason they came here. 

But nothing comes.

Bdubs takes one, two — up to three shaky, hiccuping breaths, before he opens his eyes again and looks up. What he sees is not a knife, but instead a handkerchief. It’s held in front of him awkwardly, the assassin staring at him unblinking. Bdubs hesitates, before he takes it and wipes the tears off his face. Except the very act of compassion coming from what should be his assassin makes his tears double, and Bdubs sobs embarrassingly against the cloth. 

“We’ll find out what happens when a vision of yours does not come to fruition, then. Because I won’t kill you. You won’t die by my hand, prince Bdubs.” 

Their voice is so gentle, now. Bdubs nearly chokes on air as he tries to calm himself. As he tries to listen. Take it in.  

“I was only sent here because we found out about your vision. Before you worry — none within your court knows. We’ve only inferred it through our surveillance. I will report back, explain what happened. They’ll send another spy to continue monitoring your safety. Oblivion never wanted you dead, so you won’t have to be afraid of them. And it means… you’ll know: There’s a way to stop your visions.”

Before Bdubs can say anything, before he can thank them, they turn away. They take a step to leave. Bdubs’ tears stop in an instant, and he reaches for them. For their cloak. He pulls them back towards him, and wraps his arms around them in a tight embrace, feels the air escape from their lungs as he squeezes.

“Thank you,” he says, voice only shaking a little as he clings to the assassin’s clothes. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you. I don’t even know your name, I—”

“My— My name’s not important.” The assassin’s voice is strained, as if in pain. They pat Bdubs’ hand in what he assumes is a gentle attempt to pry him off. He doesn’t let go quite yet. “We won’t meet again. Just… try to find a way to stop your visions. If anything, for your own sake.”

Bdubs shakes his head. “I won’t let you leave,” he declares. “Not after you saved my life. Not after you did… did this. You were sent to protect me, right? So you must be pretty good! Then, I want you to stay. I can write to Oblivion, get them to keep you here. Then you can help me stop the visions from coming true again. Yeah?”

He finally pulls away so he can walk around the assassin and face them, sniffing as he watches them shake their head.

“I’m not a protector. I’m an assassin. The only reason I was sent here was to neutralise your murderer. Since I technically have, there’s no reason for me to stay. Especially now that I’ve revealed myself to you. It… goes against almost every tenets of the code,” they sigh, reaching to pinch the bridge of their nose. “It just can’t happen. I’m sorry.”

“... Will they hurt you? For… you know,” Bdubs gestures. Could the price of his life be his would-be assassin’s death? Does he want to know? “...If not your full name, can you give me… I dunno, a nickname, the first letter —  anything? I don’t wanna forget the person who broke my curse. Please? Then I’ll let you leave. And I’ll promise not to speak a word of this. To anyone.”

The other furrows their brow, and studies Bdubs’ face. They shake their head again, and brush Bdubs’ hands off themselves. “Slab,” they finally offer. Bdubs recognises it: A clan name. A… very prominent one. “And what happens to me isn’t something for you to worry about. I’m… uh… Sorry. For causing you stress.”

There’s an awkward pause, then, before they take a step back. Bdubs lets them. He watches them as they climb back up to the rafters, open a window, and leave without a trace. 

“...Slab…” Bdubs looks down at his sketchbook, hugs it to his chest. Clouds creep closer to the blood moon, obscuring its glow. The observatory is plunged in darkness, illuminated only by the flickering candles on Bdubs’ desk. 

He’s alive. His vision has come and gone. 

He sits at his desk. Opens his sketchbook, picks up a pen, and begins sketching. 

He draws until the sun rises. A feverish attempt to burn the Slab assassin’s image in his head. Draws until one of his retainers knocks on the door and scolds him for not showing up at breakfast. Until they drag him out of the observatory, force him to breathe the fresh air outside. 

He’s free of the burn in his lungs as he’s smothered into unconsciousness, of the blade splitting his arms open. 

He’s alive.

#pltclau #writings

[resident-mercie]

Carlos Oliveira Fic - Halcyon Days (NSFW). (Chapter 1).

notes: fem!reader, NSFW mentions, slow-burn, canon violence depictions.

➵ A slow-burning love story with Carlos Oliveira that transcends the apocalypse.

1998. The Raccoon City incident. Yet also, the day I met him.

I remember it quite vividly, as you can imagine. One day you’re living your monotonous life in the suburbs, next, your life is in tatters, to say the least. I was young and dumb then, in my twenties. No amount of preparation beforehand could’ve prepared me for Raccoon City. It started off mysteriously enough, remembering how myself and my coworkers would chat about the news reports we heard on the radio during our daily commutes. Bizarre murders in the outskirts of the town, yet the corpses had part of their remains almost bitten off. We just chalked it down to some wild dogs or coyotes taking an opportunity to get a little free food. Yet the reality was so much darker. There I was one evening, preparing for bed, and that’s when the apocalyptic uproar began. Screams, then sirens, then the sound of them. In my rush to see the ever growing commotion, my world turned upside down. The cinema, that I’d visit every weekend as a kid, was alight, the posters of new premieres reduced to nothing but ash. The donut store, that was usually full of workers making a slight detour from their commute home, was eerily silent amidst the cacophony of apocalypse.

It was entrancing, like my own little world. A world so vastly different from the monotony of my own, that it was painfully jarring. So jarring, that I didn’t notice the creature lumbering towards me—

A sharp whistle shook me out of the trance I was trapped in, as I stared at the beast that fell at my side, its crimson liquid splattering across the debris-ridden sidewalk. The reality dawned on me, as the creature squelched beside me, a slight wail emanating from its jaws.

It’s an apocalypse. A fucking apocalypse.

It was like watching a horror flick cliche in front of me. This creature is a zombie. A zombie, in my hometown.

“D’you wanna get eaten? Don’t just stand there!”

A hand grabbed mine, and I was back to reality, grounded at last. It was adorned in a fingerless glove, yet the fingers were quite coarse. Unlike the creature at my feet, the hand of my rescuer was warm, one of the few glimpses of humanity I would experience for a long while.

The hand pulled me away from the scene, as the monster by my feet began to reanimate itself slowly. Half aware of the situation I was in, I let myself be pulled away, witnessing the danger unfold in front of my eyes. Panic. Running. Screaming.

Everyone was going the opposite way to us, a realisation I made as my trance began to end, and the real world dawned on me.

"Why are they going—"

It was if he read my mind.

"I'm taking you somewhere safe. We've been converting the subway station into a safe spot. You're safe now, but you have to trust me."

You have to trust me.

For the first time since my rescuer grabbed ahold of my hand, I finally looked at him. He was adorned in military gear, underneath being a tight-fitting black t-shirt, a slight hole made in its sleeve. His forearms were muscular, one being used to guard myself from any incoming threat, while the other had an assault rifle of sorts hoisted upon his shoulder for easy access. His skin was a tanned olive shade, his forehead beading with sweat. There was a caring, yet determined, look that was plastered across his face.

I could trust him. I will trust him.

We kept running – it was the only thing we could do. Glass kept shattering. The screams were growing quieter now, a feeling that made me sick to the very core of my stomach. It could only mean one thing, really – that many of the people that we had ran past just moments before were about to meet a fate worse than death.

"Through here. Quickly." His voice was one that was firm, yet also one with concern.

“What the hell is this place?”

“It’s the subway. Me and uh, my gang, have been converting the train carriages into a safe place of sorts. You’re okay now.”

I nodded, the whole situation being a bitter pill to have to swallow. I could hardly get my words out of my mouth, unable to fully comprehend the extent of the horrors I bore witness to today.

“Why did you save me?”

“Because—“ He began, but his speech faltered, as if he struggled to put his thoughts into words. “Ah, I mean, it’s my duty. Do you mind if you come on down to the first aid carriage? Need to check you over for cuts and the like. Can’t be bringing an infected into the safe place, y’know?’

I nodded, before the words fell out of my mouth, unable to control my racing thoughts any longer.

“I need to know your name. You risked your life for me, and I don’t even know who you are.”

His gaze softened a little, turning to face me with a smile of reassurance.

“Oliveira. Carlos Oliveira. Now, shall we get going? I can’t have you turning on me.”

There was even something reassuring in his laughter, in his humour, and in his smile. I gave a smile back, albeit an exhausted one, before following him into the sanctum of the subway.

“Okay, I just need you to stay put here for a while. Any unusual symptoms? Wanting to eat me because I look delicious? Anything like that?” Carlos smiled, producing a half full first aid kit from an area of the carriage.

I shook my head. “No, nothing like that.”

“Boo. All the ladies usually want a piece of Carlos, zombie or not.” He rolled his eyes jokingly, taking an ear thermometer from the kit. “Do you mind if I take your temperature at all? Standard procedure, of course.”

“Of course.” I leant forward, cringing slightly as the thermometer entered my ear.

Carlos leant forward, his sweet breath hitting my cheeks. “I’m sorry if this hurts.” His voice was lowered, raspy. Being so close to the man who just saved my life was a little infatuating, to say the least.

“No, no. It’s okay.” My breathing grew unsteady, unable to cope with the closeness of his presence.

Surely I wasn’t in love with a guy I met fifteen minutes prior?

“Your temperature is fine.” Carlos frowned, removing the disposable cap from the thermometer and placing it back in the dishevelled first aid kit. "Are you sure you’re alright, though? You seem a little on edge. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Anything.

Every cell in my body screamed, pleading with me to ask for something. Anything. I was completely and utterly infatuated with Carlos Oliveira. I wanted to kiss him, feel my body melt into his, have him rail the ever living shit out of me in this godforsaken carriage—

“Could, you, uh, give me a hug?”

“I mean, so long as you don’t turn. But being eaten by a cutie would be a good way to go, I suppose.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fanfic #re3 carlos #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira #resident evil 3 #resident evil 3 remake

[necrophilemagpie]

Alucard characterization headcanons and Why exactly making Seras a vampire was something he felt the need to do. And why she felt the need to resist it so much.

So, here's the big one that p much drives my personal characterization of him

He's not some sort of just-because devil figure that 'corrupts people for the fun of it i guess.' No, his reasons for doing what he does are deeply painfully personal and informed shamelessly by his own trauma and things He wanted back before he lacked power.

Oh and wanting to justify himself and that pesky thing called being afraid to be alone.

"I wish everyone that's hurt me ever died a painful gory death" is something a lot of people feel, but he makes the assumption that it's something people also want to Act on. He did.

How Exactly he became Dracula is not known, but it is strongly implied something happened and he Gave Himself that kind of power through the rage he felt.

And then the dynamic flipped. He became a powerful feared warlord, he was in a position where, if he so wished anyone that as much as looked at him wrong could be easily be rid of forever in a matter of minutes or seconds.

He also got to know all too well when he was defeated just exactly how painful it was to be powerless again, though not entirely this time, by comparison it must've Felt exactly like coming back to being a scared kid.

Especially having been betrayed further, and, as far as he knew, being tossed to that basement to the end of time, unable to even move, until Integra found him.

And in his mind, not only did she Save him, she saved him By Giving Him Power again.

And he wants to replicate that feeling, that exhilaration of being granted power to... honestly just reach the absolute safety of being the scariest thing around really.

He saw Seras and realized, maybe, just maybe thats someone thats kind of like him, maybe that's someone that Could Be Like him, maybe if he gives her what he previously mustered for himself, and what Integra gave him

finally, finally somebody will understand him. Finally he can justify who he is by saying 'look! here's someone, here's someone who thought the same!' that he's not a monster, or at least not that much of a monster, or at least that being a monster is a normal, reasonable thing to be.

Trouble is, Seras, no doubt growing up with no real support as an extremely traumatized, and, honestly, likely autistic child knows something about the human world he might've forgotten about.

And that something is, that outliers are not Welcome in the world, that the world is Always bigger, that being visibly hurt is Dangerous and that lashing out will get you in deep shit and it's best to not give anyone reasons to notice.

She's not just a bubbly girl simply to be cute I guess, the girl is masking.

Oh but she no longer lives in the human world. And to him it's weakness, to him it's bullshit. To him it's Seras digging her own grave.

He doesn't quite get at first that she doesn't just cling to humanity because change is scary, but because her humanity has been The One Thing she's had to protect herself with. And Acting Like A Normal Human was her one defense against being neglected and othered more than she already was.

It did literally take the human world visibly crumbling around her for Seras to realize, wait, that's not, that's not as real or as powerful a structure as she thought and it wont even apply to her anymore once its back.

And likely shocked as he was, that Seras turned out a very different kind of monster from him, Alucard, nonetheless, got something much better than he bargained for. Not a copy or a follower. An equal.

#hellsing ultimate #alucard hellsing #alucard headcanons #seras victoria #seras hellsing #necrowriting #look i think the dynamics in this story are genuinely really neat

[medicinanocturna]

Understanding Pluto in the synastry chart

Pluto's key lesson is to prepare us for death as a major transformation in life.

We experience small dyings all the time during our lifetime, mostly through our relationships with others.

Pluto in the synastry chart should be viewed precisely from this perspective.

Manipulation and obsession that are often associated with the Pluto aspects are only the low levels of its manifestation. Also, they can be just as necessary as any other experience in life.

On a sensual level, Pluto indeed gives passion and jealousy, and both emotional states can greatly enrich one’s personality (rather than destroy). In addition, Pluto is not a planet of action, it signifies a mental impulse. That is why the passion and jealousy here are deeply psychological. How they are going to be expressed physically will show the quality of Mars, Venus and the Moon in the chart. 

Pluto acts as a surgical blade in a certain sphere of the psyche. It cuts to the depths, to the place of rawness, where it can clean, destroy, and resuscitate. 

In the synastry, Pluto will generate an act of dying and resurrection over a certain planet of a partner (i.e. the sphere of their psyche and life). This sphere of their psychic will first be laid bare, and then either significantly reshaped or destroyed and made reborn. By that, Pluto will reveal that the way this planet was manifesting itself before was not genuine enough.

Just like in the transits, when Pluto will send your the signs of a looming transformation in advance (here I wrote more about it), the appearance of a new person in your life whose Pluto aspects your personal planet will be a real sign that a revision is needed in this area, and possibly a radical one. The tense aspects, like square or opposition, will bring the most profound results.

If the action of Pluto does not get to manifest itself in higher vibrations, then a struggle and throwing tantrums will begin in the sphere of a personal planet. This is often called passion, but in fact it is NOT a passion, it is a death agony, which will most likely end with the departure of a person whose personal planet is afflicted. 

As a consequence, such relationships leave huge baggage of accumulated emotions of frustration for both people that stem from a zero understanding of their karmic predisposition.

At a higher level, the Pluto person will literally make the other person experience the dying in a certain area of their life. Something is transfixed from being deeply exposed, then it is recognised as obsolete, and then slowly and often painfully it is being eradicated and starts being reborn.

If it is the Sun, then the sphere of transformation will be the Ego. If the Moon then the transformation will happen in the sphere of security, emotional attachments, and fears. Venus - values ​​​​and sensuality, but perhaps the aesthetics of the owner of Venus will change a lot too. Mercury gets Pluto’s surgery on mental attitudes. The aspect with Mars will bring about the restructuring of one’s understanding of power of action, including from a karmic perspective. Aspects with Mars are considered being intense and even dangerous, but at a higher level, these aspects give tremendous work in spiritual development.

We also need to look at what the personal planet rules in the chart and take this into account. It may well change the complete picture. Let’s say, if the Mercury is the ruler of one’s 8th house, then receiving an aspect from Pluto will be a different story here, and the mental attitude may be the least to get transformed.

Unlike aspects of Saturn, where one can feel lots of pressure and austerity, Pluto feels like a laser penetrating all layers of a particular experience. 

At the very beginning, such relationships can overflow with inner thrill and attraction. The owner of a personal planet is chained by the depth of waves coming from a Pluto person, while the second one will revel in his ability to go deep and transform someone's personality. If these vibrations continue to go up, then this will bring incredible spiritual renewal and maturation. Higher vibrations here would suggest the sensitivity of the two people to the process of this transformation.

If however, the vibrations tend to go down because of the inner level of the two people involved, such intense interaction may start feeling too intrusive for a personal planet and cause repulsion. Especially with planets such as Venus and the Moon, this repulsion can be very intense, almost visceral. The Pluto person, heavily feeling the vibration of rejection, will be inclined to retain his former power by all means, which may start with manipulation and then reach more violent methods of psychological oppression. (Again, the physical abuse in the relationships is not really the Pluto’s influence, it has to be confirmed by the Mars aspects).

All the above are more referred to the aspects of conjunction, square, and opposition. The trine and sextile aspects will hardly bring that inner force, but it doesn’t mean they are not offering a transformation. 

The influence of Pluto in the relationships can hardly go unnoticed. By nature, Pluto is like a living surgical scalpel. It transforms everything it touches.

Drop me a line if you want me to look at your chart...

Yours,

AlSheren

#astrology #astrologymedicine #pluto #synastry #karmic relationships #pluto aspects #pluto in synastry #transformation #plutomedicine #synastry chart #power of pluto #astrology observations #astrology on tumblr #pluto mystery

[aromanticannibal]

Ok, Feldup recs post!

Mostly my opinion (which is wildly positive) on his most recent album, Stared at from a Distance.

Warnings, this entire album talks about Feldup's SA from a woman twice his age. It's hard to listen to, it was hard to listen to for me, who suffered through no such experiences and isn't triggered, squicked or made uncomfortable by many things.

First, I'd advise that you listen to the entire album all at once (which breaks throughout if needed), in order and with lyrics (there are subtitles in the linked video). I promise it's worth it. Now for my favorite songs :

Stared at from a Distance (2nd track, 12:06), is obviously incredible and one of my faves. It's pretty long and is way more explicit on what it's talking about than Waters (4:55), the first track (which I really liked too, the music video for it is excellently made as well). I really love the way the instrumental and beat switches throughout to accompany the story, and the end of the song made me think I was going to cry (I just needed to sneeze but tbh it's still crying material). Really good, if you listen to only one song in the album I think it should be this one. (Side note, I'm also wondering if I didn't hear part of that song when I was at Feldup's concert - it was before the album was out, but you know. I don't think I heard all of it, but maybe I just forgot).

Naked and Afraid (3rd track, 3:11) is very good and picks up very well after the second track. It makes you understand that this album really is a story you're following, and you're going to get every detail of it. The following track, Dizzy (4:11) is transitioned to so well I thought it was the same song (it's also excellent), and Fear of Abandonment (4:07) right after is like. Painful. /pos

Shove it (6th track, 03:39) is honestly terrifying to listen to, and it works very well for its subject. I don't even have much to talk about for this one, it's just really good. The 7th track, Moment of Sobriety (5:30) managed to be even scarier, because of how real it gets then (if that makes sense. The whole album is painfully real, and it reminds you of this regularly).

Crying as a Weapon (8th track, 5:20) is where I had to take a break. I think it might be one of the most relatable songs for many people who were abused, not just sexually.

Death of an Illusion (9th track, 10:23) is the other very long track of this album and it is, unsurprisingly, incredible, and one of my absolute favorites. It's also one I could relate to a lot, and its progression is very satisfying. It Never Leaves (9:09) is similar to Death of an Illusion, its continuity, and its ending made me incredibly happy.

The last one, To Love Again (4:49), is the song I enjoyed the less, musically speaking, but one of my favorites nevertheless, and a perfect ending for the album in my opinion. It also has a shift in the... well, not the narration, but I guess the message, somewhat (trying not to spoil because it's so incredible to realize to me), which entirely convinced me this is actually my favorite album of all time construction-wise.

In conclusion, Oh My Fucking God this is so incredible.

Feldup is a great person who writes incredible texts and makes excellent music. The constructions of his songs and the way his story is told throughout eleven tracks is beautiful and heartbreaking and hopeful, and it genuinely is currently changing my brain chemistry /hj. It is so good. It's on Spotify and Bandcamp for sure, and I think it's on most other streaming services, and you still have the Youtube video I linked at the top. Please give it a try.

I'll quickly give my favorite songs from his other album, A Thousand Doors, Just One Key, but they're all really good too : Falling Apart (2nd track, 4:08) which is his most known song as far as I'm aware and is a fucking banger from the first notes, Mental Health (6th, 4:25), Attention (3rd, 3:54), and Stockholm (10th, 11:21), which holds one of my favorite lyrics ever (There is no cure/I am the disease).

Anyways, have a good day or night, stream Feldup's music.

#feldup #stared at from a distance #a thousand doors just one key #falling apart #music #music recs #alternative rock #indie rock #indie music #french artist #french musician #france #queer artist #Youtube

[froggynelson]

hihihiiii so i love daredevil and recently started reading the comics but my knowledge pretty much caps at the netflix show

so i was wondering: who’s mike murdock?? i’m assuming he’s either from a comic (alternate universe?) or a fan concept, but i’ve been trying to figure it out but bc most of the fandom is in hibernation leaving very few comic enjoyers to elaborate, i couldn’t find anything

mike is a real boy and we love him

ok so he started out as a lie matt made up in daredevil #25 back in the 1960s, as an excuse as to why he is not daredevil to the inquiring karen and foggy. no i am not daredevil, my twin brother none of you knew of is :). and he went on to character act good ol' mikey, until all the fake twin business got too complicated, resulting in matt killing off the mike persona.

now fast forward to 2018. up to now, mike was just a silly little thing that happened in the silver age that got referenced every now and then. but one day the daredevil writer charles soule changed this. by making use of the character the reader, an inhuman with reality warping powers that can make anything he reads into a real construct, brought mike to life as he fell asleep reading through daredevil's files. now mike is a real boy, and the silly little guy we knew evolved into someone painfully aware of his existence as someone who wasn't real to begin with. the silly guy is a tragic figure now.

he ends up stealing the norn stones, magical asgardian artifacts, from a criminal he was collaborating with at the time, because he felt tired and depressed of existing as a non-person, and with its power he makes himself into existence as if he had been real all along. now he is a Real real boy, but if the silly guy wasn't enough of a tragic figure, his desire to fill the gaps in his memories and to become a real person backfired with the pain of his father's death, his broken relationship with matt, and the guilt he carries knowing he wasn't real to begin with. and it gets worse because we as readers also have the tragedy of his potential not being fully realized in a lackluster comic run

can you feel him

#mike murdock #asks #daredevil comics

[arty-cakes]

Mad and angry at how these two joke side characters try so hard to be heteronormative but they really aren't and that's where most of their misery comes from. not all of it but most of it, like it very much keeps them in the cycle, because they seem desperate to find a happy storybook ending and this is how they think they'll find it, by trying to be like the same characters that found that happiness. its never addressed but also painfully obvious with how much they don't fit in with the other npcs dear god these characters are queer coded to hell i could write an essay (i accidentally did)

its not even like bretta and zote are straight cis characters these two are bi and aro canonically but its more to do with the gender roles they're trying to replicate, and failing. they suck at it. he is not this emotionally stoic resilient lone knight he is in fact continuously fighting his emotional pain and if you give him the right attention he will stay forever. he'll get angry that you saved him or that he needed your help because YOU dont fit in his story. she's not a forgiving accepting loving damsel in distress she can take care of herself great and will also drop you like a hat if she sees even one flaw in you. because then YOU dont fit her story either. they care so much about their stories because they reinforce the identity they think they're supposed to have but they're also so disconnected with themselves BECAUSE of these gender roles that they dont realize it makes them miserable

the biggest cause for this is that they are lonely isolated individuals and dont understand or know enough about real people so they have to go off their storybooks and it only keeps them alone. its like you have to be stubborn about saving them and staying by their side so they can get that chance to change and thats exactly what the knight does. its stubborn as hell it will save them again and again and it will fight their dumbass crushes as many times as it takes to make them realize what they're doing is painful. and bretta gets that chance, she leaves the town that isolated her and goes to find something better, most importantly she gets experience. zote gets to stay alive, which is the best thing you can do for him. because now he might get to face his pain, whereas in death he never gets to overcome it, just escape it

its also very funny that when the game pushes them together in this fake relationship its purposely depicted as completely ridiculous and an obvious parody and you also have the chance to beat it to the ground multiple times. whereas the two more meaningful love stories that you get to help happen are mlm and wlw and completely unapologetic about it this game is GAY

#long post #not normal about them sry sry. they're just your typical everyday knights and maidens lalala #like its been a while since i played hk so i could be off but this is the impression i get from both of them everytime #they're a criticism of traditional fairytale love stories and tbh #im not the best when it comes to gender analysis im like clueless about my own. but i am at least 100% about the fact that #brettas ver of their relationship is a parody. it only exists to make fun of inane fairytale romances #so bretta's character says a lot about gender and zote's says a lot about trauma #both things that exist because they were isolated. love loses #idk but they dont seem like surface level characters to me at all. there's always something to say #on top of them being there to have something to laugh at which i do girl.. i do. they're so silly #but i always felt like there was something that tied bretta and zote together aside from their delusions and i guess its this #btw im tired im gonna rewatch tlou s1 its been a few months also its really good.. apocalyptic media my weakness

[animebw]

Seasonal Reflection: Summer 2023 Anime

I've noticed over my years of seasonal anime watching that summer tends to be the weakest season of the year. For whatever reason, everyone saves their good shows for winter, spring or fall, leaving the middle of the year to limp along with few real standouts. But god almighty, even by those standards, this was a dismal fucking season of anime. Forget just not having many good shows, there were so few shows that even had the potential to be good. Trying to find anything with a fighting chance of turning out even halfway decent felt like trawling for nuggets of half-digested corn in an overflowing septic tank of obviously bad isekai, obviously bad light novel junk, and obviously bad wish-fulfillment rom-coms. And then, just to add insult to injury, basically all the shows that did start out strong ended up tripping over themselves in some way. So not only were there so few anime even worth keeping up with this season, none of them managed to score anything higher than "pretty good." This is, unquestionably, the worst anime season I've sat through since I started watching seasonally. So let's take stock of the few shows I kept up with and pray for better things once the much-more-promising fall season gets under way.

Zom 100: Bucket List of the Dead: Unfinished/10

Well, isn't this unfortunately ironic. The increasingly exploitative conditions that anime is made under have resulted in so many high-profile shows suffering production delays as their animators crash up against the cruelty of overwork and corporate greed. But there's something particularly disquieting when that fate befalls a show that's all about breaking free from your shitty exploitative job. Zom 100 sets out to extol the joys of living a free life unchained by capitalism's cruel clutches even in the midst of the end of the world, but ends up so ravaged by those very chains that it was unable to finish its run before it ran out of timeslots. And now its last three episodes are left in limbo, the entire production team waiting for a chance to recover and find some way to bring their work to a close. It's a pretty bleak situation that almost makes you believe a zombie apocalypse would actually be preferrable to our current state of affairs. Especially when, uh, this is not a show you want to give the audience extra time to think about. Cause the more you think about it, the more all its aggravating flaws- painfully simplistic moralizing, a sexist streak that refuses to just fucking die- start to sour your good feelings for the rollicking ride it's taking you on. I can only hope the final episodes, whenever they arrive, close it out on a strong enough note to make the ride feel worth it.

Mushoku Tensei Season 2 (1st Cours): 1/10

I have stewed long and hard over how to phrase my thoughts on the second season of Mushoku Tensei. I've agonized for hours on how to express how viscerally, repulsively infuriating this show has become. But ultimately, there's only one thing I can say: Fuck this show and fuck everyone who likes it. Fuck every free ride this show gives Rudeus so he never had to face consequences for his actions. Fuck the hypocritical stabs at "redemption" that only serve to excuse and justify every female character slobbering over an unrepentant pedophile. Fuck the single worst use of slavery I've ever seen in an isekai (Cannot fucking believe I have to give Shield Hero credit for anything). Fuck this lifeless waste of a cast that steadfastly refuses to have a single interesting member. Fuck the misogyny. Fuck the masturbatory woe-is-me manpain. And most of all, fuck every last braindead, media-illiterate mouth-breather who decided to turn this irredeemable garbage into a modern anime classic. The success of Mushoku Tensei is the death of everything I love about this medium, and I will never forgive any of you for bringing us to this point. Go. Fuck. Yourselves.

My Happy Marriage: 4/10

God, I really wanted to like this one more than I did. Isn't it great to see high-profile shoujo anime with impressive productions making a comeback after years of drought? And this is a story about trauma and healing and discovering your self worth and all that good stuff! This should've been right up my alley. And yet, My Happy Marriage just left me frustrated and somewhat offended. There's such a powerful story buried in here somewhere, but thanks to a combination of painfully overwrought melodrama that robs its heroine of far too much agency, a poorly handled supernatural twist on the Cinderella formula that only grows increasingly awkward the more it tries to force the two together, and a condescending undercurrent that seems to think the only cure for years of abuse is embracing a hyper-traditionalist form of wifely duties, that nugget of potential never has the chance to blossom. What an utter disappointment.

Saint Cecilia and Pastor Lawrence: 5/10

Rejoice, folks; we've finally found the mathematical average of the slice-of-life moe romance. Saint Cecilia and Pastor Lawrence is the platonic ideal of the fluffy, disposable rom-com made flesh, pleasant and harmless while watching but leaving no lasting impression once it's done. It's a collection of cute character moments, amusing gags, and occasional stabs at emotion that sometimes tug at your heartstrings a bit, all arranged in their proper places with a likable cast and bouncy animation and just enough energy to stay moderately interesting all the way through. And aside from the somewhat unique setting of a Medieval church as home base for our two awkward lovebirds, none of it lingers in your mind once the episode ends and you find yourself forgetting all the jokes you were just chuckling to. Which may seem like a backhanded complement, but honestly? This is what I would consider the baseline for anime rom-coms. If you're gonna just be fluffy and disposable, this is the absolute minimum you should be aiming for to make me appreciate spending twenty-four minutes every week with you. I can't really recommend it to anyone but the most ravenous rom-com fans, but at least now I have a standard to judge any similar shows that fall short of the mark.

Sugar Apple Fairy Tale Season 2: 5.5/10

What strikes me most about Sugar Apple Fairy Tale now that it's over is just what an ambitious show it turned out to be. It's one thing to write a hackneyed fantasy racism metaphor about fairy slavery into your swoony shoujo romance, it's quite another to actually try and engage honesty with the implications of that idea as the core driving force of your narrative. And whatever else you might say about it, SAFT is really, truly making an effort to explore discrimination and systemic bigotry, tackling it from so many angles over the course of its 24 episodes without shying away from its thorny complexity. How many other stories like this would dedicate an entire subplot to showing how victims of one kind of discrimination can still perpetuate harm on groups even lower on the social totem pole like SAFT does with Brigit? Or explore how toxic systems of control don't magically get better just because a minority is at the helm like Lafalle? It's that kind of ambition that makes it easier to take this show's stumbles in stride, numerous though they might be at times. I'll always appreciate an earnest, messy attempt at making a statement over a safe, line-toeing space filler without the conviction to even try.

Horimiya Piece: 6/10

So this is a weird situation where the first season of Horimiya ended up rushing through the source material in order to adapt the whole story, and now this side-quel is going back and adapting all the content the first season skipped over. Essentially, it's a Horimiya DLC, scattered skits with no real cohesion or progression that just exist to give you more good times with the cast you love. But hey, Horimiya was never really heavy on plot to begin with; it's always been more a collection of moments across the lives of these friends than anything else. So I don't see anything wrong with doing a full season of just slice-of-life shenanigans, since that's basically what the first season became once Hori and Miyamura got together. And if nothing else, I certainly appreciated all the extra time with these lovable goofballs; this show does a better job than most of capturing the sheer, absolute chaos that teenage friend groups can cause amongst each other. Unfortunately, there are two episodes in the back half that truly, utterly suck- episode 9 is completely focused on the creepy pedophile teacher the show thinks is just the most hilarious joke ever, and episode 12 faceplants into romanticizing abusive relationships in a really gross way. So if you're gonna check Horimiya Piece out, do yourself a favor and skip those episodes entirely. Your experience will be better off for it.

Undead Murder Farce: 6.5/10

Pulp is a hard style to define, isn't it? You'd think it would be easy with how influential and popular it's been over the years. Ultimately, though, you just gotta know it when you see it. And Undead Murder Farce is pulpier than a thousand trees being turned into paper at an orange juice factory. It's a Victorian-era serial mystery extravaganza that turns the entirety of 19th-century supernatural adventure literary canon into the backdrop for a rakugo-performing half-oni and a severed immortal head to traipse through solving mysteries as they pursue a larger goal. Over the course of their adventures, they match wits and butt heads with vampires, werewolves, Sherlock Holmes, Phileas Fogg from Around the World in 80 Days, The Phantom of the Opera, Arsene Lupin, Frankenstein's Monster, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. And thanks to the director of Kaguya-sama at the helm, the visual presentation is exactly as gonzo and freewheeling as this brazen OC fanfiction deserves. I enjoyed every second of this goofy-ass show, and I hope we get a second season to see which classic characters our wisecracking immortal detectives rub elbows with next. It's what we deserve.

Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 (1st Part): 7/10

It's increasingly difficult to pin down my feelings on Jujutsu Kaisen. On the one hand, it regularly delivers some of the coolest, most lavishly animated punch-ups in modern anime. On the other hand, is that enough to cover for the story's incredible lack of focus and constant zig-zagging between different ideas at the drop of a hat? Like, I might need more than ten fingers to count how many times this show just drops in the middle of building up a status quo to shift gears into something entirely different without giving proper closure to what's come before. On the other other hand, though, season 2's backstory arc finally gave us an actual driving force for the story and a strong emotional framework to understand the stakes at play, except then it almost immediately reverses on that idea by revealing one of the critical characters has been dead the whole time and his story's suddenly over just when it was really getting under way, and... eh. Look, I like Jujutsu Kaisen, and its spectacular action and hilarious character interactions are usually enough to help me forgive its overly convoluted plotting (especially this season with its massive upgrade in directorial flourish and experimental animation). But at some point I'm really gonna start wondering if any of this nonsense will ever amount to more than a slapped-together framework to justify the fights.

Fate/Strange Fake Episode 0: 8/10

It's probably not a good sign that the only anime to really inspire me this season was basically just a prologue for a show that's still being made as we speak. But with how barren this season has been, I'll take my victories where I can. And sweet buttery Jesus, am I glad that Strange Fake is getting a full adaptation. After years of having no interest in Fate beyond the core story, one of these endless spinoffs finally manages to grab me hook line and sinker. And all it took was the author of Baccano and Durarara filtering the concept of the Holy Grail War through his particular penchant for sprawling, chaotic ensemble stories full of truly deranged characters slamming the full weight of their personalities against each other for the sheer fun of it. Add a mesmerizing new visual style from a longtime key animator making his directorial debut, and the result is an epic hour-long masterclass introduction that leaves you breathless for more. This is what Fate/Zero's first episode should have been. And sure, it could still go horribly off the rails at some point, but for now, I choose to remain hopeful. May this promise of better things to come prove a welcome omen as we leave this miserable anime season behind.

Shows I Dropped:

The Girl I Like Forgot Her Glasses: Dropped at 2 episodes for extreme GoHands over-animation, and just being a painfully cringey male fantasy rom-com.

Atelier Ryza: Dropped at 1 episode for being boring and generic as fuck. Only worth it for the hilariously crowbarred-in fanservice shots and I can just look those up on their own.

Reign of the Seven Spellblades: Dropped at 2 episodes for some of the most cringe-worthy DeviantArt-tier writing I've ever seen.

The Masterful Cat is Depressed Again Today: Dropped at 2 episodes for just being boring, even though it's way better than GoHands' other monstrosity this season.

Bang Dream It's MyGo: Dropped at 1 episode for just not vibing with it, idk.

#anime #tabw #the anime binge-watcher #summer 2023 anime #summer 2023 sr #fate/strange fake #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #horimiya #hori san to miyamura kun #sugar apple fairy tale #my happy marriage #watashi no shiawase na kekkon #mushoku tensei #jobless reincarnation #undead murder farce #undead girl murder farce #zom 100: zombie ni naru made ni shitai 100 no koto #zom 100: bucket list of the dead #zom 100 #saint cecilia and pastor lawrence #shiro seijo to kuro bokushi

[russenoire]

we like to talk about the kind heart beating at the center of mob psycho 100...

its eminently huggable and relatable main characters...

the surprising maturity and accessibility of its psychological themes, the tightrope it walks between pathos and absurd humor, the abundance of sensitive neurodivergent representation within, and—for a story with a predominantly male cast—its largely unsexualized and refreshingly real girls and women.

i could keep listing more aspects of this story that i adore, honestly. but for me, it was one specific aspect of the writing that struck me the hardest.

as a person who used to inhale film and TV criticism like folks in the US devour breakfast cereal, i live for subversions of tired, well-worn storytelling patterns (call them tropes if you must). MP100 is full to leaking with subverted expectations. but only rarely do i ever see a writer subvert a done-to-death pattern and then subvert the subversion.

studio bones and ONE's writing work together to pull this off in the fifth episode of MP100's first season. on my first watch, i had to pick my jaw up off the floor at what i was seeing.

this got... long... more below the cut.

first, a little bit of framework.

the concept of single combat drives much of the action (and comedy) in shōnen fighting series.

it simplifies the conflict between cultures, between ways of life, between ideals, to a question of who is stronger in a no-holds-barred match between two people. the answer decides the fates of whole nations, hopefully but not always spares both sides from further bloodshed, and it's older than dirt.

the cathartic appeal of such distillation is not entirely lost on me, but i also crave novelty and nuance? and seem to be aging out of the shōnen demographic as a result. 'my kung-fu is stronger than yours!' 'yeah? well, i'm fucking bored with attempts to settle this question with fists or magic and no longer care.'

i do not count MP100 as a fighting series; the story doesn't conflate personal growth with increasing skill at punching shit and would hold up as a coming-of-age story quite well without battles. while MP100 flirts shamelessly with many fighting series clichés, it actively refuses to commit to those it engages. it rejects this one entirely by story's end.

when teruki hanazawa first becomes aware that shigeo kageyama exists and shares his easy facility with ESP, he and the audience are led to believe that the two boys will enter into a showdown like those we've seen so many times before. they'll fight it out like the real men they'll be soon, and a clear victor will emerge from the wreckage in their wake.

shigeo, of course, is flatly uninterested and baffled at this stranger fighting him unprovoked. teru figures he can preserve his view of the world by simply bringing the boy to heel, just as he has with everyone else around him. even after the little blond chuunibyou twists him until his bones crack... waterboards him in the depths of black vinegar middle school's swimming pool...

[image ID: a teenaged boy in his physical education uniform of white tee shirt and red shorts is shown from the back and below him... at the very bottom of a swimming pool. he has been plunged in against his will; a barrier of sorts can be seen around his body -- his own defense against the middle schooler attacking him.]

demolishes much of the school grounds, wielding his spindly body as a wrecking-ball...

shigeo will not yield. nor does he indulge teru in his pointless lust for battle.

he doesn't see him as an enemy and, more importantly, doesn't want to hurt him. the child is painfully aware of how easily he could kill this boy, so he endures the abuse, though not without protest. i'd never seen a shōnen anime series that even presented refusing to fight as an option.

[image ID: a bowl-cut-sporting teenage boy in a white tee shirt with a red collar stands hunched over and facing his antagonist offscreen to the viewer's right, in anticipation of another attack. he is saying 'i told you to stop that.' in the background is a statue of a human figure with arms raised above its head in victory. it will soon be made to topple onto him.]

though shigeo refuses to play this game at all, the lack of damage teru is able to inflict on him with ESP and his concise verbal summation of the profound insecurity driving teru's behavior already prove shigeo's superiority. teru needs to feel supported and justified in this unwarranted attack on another boy just like him, and so he demands, over and over, that shigeo fight back... that he show his powers. but it never sinks in for him that he's seeing them in action.

in the end, teru gives up on forcing shigeo's submission with ESP and uses his raw physical strength to strangle the young kageyama... who then plays this trope straight and utterly traumatizes teru into adopting a different outlook on life. after he passes the fuck out.

with teru's one-sided, tragic attempt at a brawl between himself and another esper child, ONE sends up the entire concept of magical single combat so hard it hits low earth orbit.

to make abundantly clear just how ridiculous this shit actually is? shigeo strips teru naked, then drains him dry of psychic energy by way of his fucking groin (in the anime) for even forcing him into this. you know, just for the extra humiliation. the boy's already been shaven like a fallen samurai at this point.

and teru's need to resist the challenge shigeo's existence presents to his way of life? we are made to see just how much harm that resistance to reality actually causes.

shattered glass, crushed concrete, wrecked doors, busted faucets spewing everywhere and wasting water—the camera lingers on these in-story, real-world consequences. actual shōnen fighting series rarely address such collateral damage outside of personal vendettas or playing it for comedy. (the comic bits here are almost necessary to leaven the pathos we're seeing, and are inseparable from that sadness.)

teru nearly commits first-degree murder twice and causes major property damage i doubt he had the power to fix. don't you dare look away, MP100's creators say. we need you, gentle watcher, to bear witness. teru is wrong. THIS WHOLE APPROACH to conflict is wrong. look again. does this remind you of anything?

and shigeo doesn't get off the hook either, though i'm inclined to give him a pass because reasons. he summarily flattens the rest of teru's school, finishing the job, and launches it (and him) above the clouds, but at least murder isn't on the table? the child suffers greatly for this unconscious act of retribution and continues to punish himself for this madness for some time... even after cleaning up the mess they both made when he returns to his senses.

no one wins here. what is 'winning'? what is 'losing'? are we even asking the right questions?

this arc—but especially this 'fight'—is darkly, absurdly funny, thought-provoking, and one of the most heartbreaking and moving things i'd seen in a long time. it sold me on this story and keeps me coming back in astonishment and gratitude.

(this is an expansion of part of a recap i wrote for this episode. you can read it here.)

#mob psycho 100 #mp100 #philosophy #mp100 meta #mp100 s1 rewatch #mp100 s1e5 #peak tv #my kung fu is stronger than yours #single combat #damn good writin' #double trope subversions #what did i just watch #誠にありがとございました #links to my writing elsewhere #kageyama shigeo #hanazawa teruki #分析

[fruitzbat]

There is this bizarre mischaracterization problem with Kingsley in the CR fandom that I think shows a certain level of contempt for the character himself — and honestly, I think it’s really revealing about a troubling hallmark of conditional support of nonbinary people in real life, which I find beyond hypocritical given…well, let’s get into it.

For starters, I'm not bothering with leaving a disclaimer about how not all fans do xyz or why I think that anyone should listen to me over anyone else. We’re adults here, we should know that things are nuanced by now. I also think talking about my own qualifications here is silly and masturbatory given that this is fandom and I'm very much doing it for free along with almost everyone else, so I'm not gonna waste the space.

Getting into the exceptions and such is well beyond the scope of this post, and I frankly don't think anything I say in this will convince anyone of anything — I just need to get it out there. If any of does change your mind, great! Icing on the cake.

*eyes glowing* anyway,

Given the admittedly considerable amount of work I do relating to his character, I wade through Kingsley's character tag a lot, and in many different places. On here, on Twitter, on AO3, his tag is full to the gills of bits of people writing stories in which he steals up to a certain member of the Nein and showers them with gifts and forehead kisses and...for lack of a better term, 'Mollyisms', and lays there enraptured while they talk about their relationship with Molly — who, obviously, is him. He's called "circus man" and is unbothered by it; it's testimony to the fact that this person and Kingsley have a history that transcends silly things like death.

Thus, the general depiction of Kingsley within the fandom is one that is not unlike Molly's, if not a 1:1 replica: a fun-loving, carefree libertine whose sun often rises at a certain other member of the Nein's forehead and sets are their toenails. He's curious about his past lives, but sees minimal distinction between them and himself.

And that's utter motherfucking hogwash.

The thing is, Kingsley's not an act II of Molly. He’s arguably a very different person from Molly, and the drift in Molly’s canon and fanon depiction is an essay on its own (not to mention the shift in perception in-universe, also brilliant and fascinating in its own right).

And I sincerely want us to think about that oversight in the same vein as if there were a considerable amount of Critters making content about, say, Beauregard Lionett falling in love with a man when she's explicitly a lesbian. Like, to me, it is that dire. And I will explain why that is momentarily: once I finish talking about who he actually is, and one of the principal culprits that I blame for this schism.

"But fruitzbat," some people might cry. "But fruitzbat, we have so little to go on. He's hardly shown himself on stream and he does, in the end, come from Molly!"

To that I would reply "skill issue," because Kingsley very much has distinguished himself from his siblings. Fandoms have extrapolated way more about a character with far less in the past. I didn't live through Superwholock on this website for anyone to tell me that they can't pull a fully-fledged character out of one episode of something. With all due respect, git gud.

Kingsley is a hustler and a cutthroat. He's driven, micro-managey — like, PAINFULLY Type-A, and interested in staying alive and making a name for himself; but in contradiction with this sense of self-preservation, he’s also ready to impulsively give himself up for a greater good and/or "make new mistakes", which can be read as altruistic at its best and unhealthy and self-deprecating at its worst (a trait which he definitely shares with Molly). In commenting on his new outfit, I’ve shitposted in the past that Kingsley is frum, but it's really not that far off. He doesn't like to leave things to chance, and also strongly believes in taking care of his own — he notably takes excellent care of the Nein Heroez’s crew. He doesn't suffer fools, he's snarky (too many examples to list them all, but have a few of my favorites), and also thoughtful and analytical and a skeptic. And most of all, he’s eager to learn and curious — not just about Molly and Lucien, but in general.

He jokes about being Lucien at one point, but makes it very clear that it's not him when people in his life make that slip-up. He's also been making the point that he’s not either of them as early as the campaign finale. And within the special, too, it’s pretty unambiguous. And then there’s Taliesin himself, also making it very clear that he’s a separate animal and on top of that, that he’s an absolute fucking badass.

And as mentioned, it's true that there's overlap with some of Molly's business — he's theatrical and loves fashion, for instance. But honestly, this character has far more in common with Lucien than he does with Molly. Lucien, who spoke multiple languages and lead a mercenary group into Aeor and back multiple times. Lucien, who even the mere prospect of him being resurrected was enough to reassemble the Tombtakers. If that’s not the makings of a Plank King, I’m not sure what would be.

And here's another thing: "Kingsley came from Molly" in and of itself is a misnomer. Based on both the stream and the addendum from the Lucien novel, Kingsley is mostly the reforged soul of Lucien — Molly's soul fragment was reintegrated into the rest of Lucien's. Kingsley is what was born from that fusion. When interceding on the failed Raise Dead spell, Caduceus said "put it back...whoever it was." There's just as much potential to say that it was Lucien's soul returned to that purple body by Melora as it was Molly's.

In all candor, I think it has a good deal to do with how many vocal Molly fans wanted Widomauk to be canon or somehow endgame.

The inherent tragedy of the dynamic between Caleb and Molly is that there is a constant specter of what could have been. Neither encountered each other when they were at a point to pursue their attraction, and Molly was dead before anything could come to pass. As a passive observer, I think that this what could have been has bled into the fanon interpretation of all kinds of purple tiefling content, mostly because there's so little to analyze otherwise. One only has to glance at the tags for the Lucien novel or the Molly origin comic to see what I mean. And I think that this has also significantly impacted the fanon depiction of Kingsley.

I find that this fandom in particular has a huge problem with sacrificing characterization in the name of fanon archetypes and tropes, but due to the distinct nature of Kingsley’s character this can veer into…I mean, pretty ugly territory.

People love the reincarnated lovers trope, and I see that applied here the most, to which I always want to remind people that Kingsley is probably more like a joined Trill. He has these past lives and memories, but just like Ezri isn’t quite Jadzia isn’t quite Kurzon Dax, Kingsley isn’t Molly isn’t Lucien. Ezri didn’t hop up and get busy with Worf, even when Jadzia had been his wife. Far from it, actually. Similarly, Jadzia had an entire exploratory episode dedicated to encountering Kurzon’s spouse and deciding that she (regretfully for lesbians everywhere) felt differently.

It’s true that it’s not completely baseless; I’m genuinely not saying that. It’s true that one of the first things King did was flirt with Caleb when he woke up. And then when he’d come more into his own, there was all that wild talk they had during the…

Oh wait, that’s right. They didn’t speak one on one even once during the reunion. So the argument could easily be made that in the chunk of the stream that showed us the most about who King was as a person, he didn’t touch Caleb with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole. Meaning that at this point in time, the basis of the ship is predominately Caleb’s relationship to his elder siblings.

I don't have time and ultimately have no interest in unpacking that in terms of it being solid foundations for a romantic relationship — we all can read, baruch hashem — and will also assume that there’s content about that dynamic that explores that weirdness with all the complexity that it deserves. But my central point here is that I’m seeing vanishingly little of it, and far more of it being used in a way that denies Kingsley his own identity. The point isn't hating on a ship. Widoking in and of itself is fine, the point is that people aren't actually shipping Kingsley with Caleb. They're shipping him with someone wearing the skin of his dead older brother.

Which brings me to my next point...

I find this aspect to be incredible given the extraordinary way that this campaign explores trans identity and narrative. Plenty of other folks have written about the extent that campaign 2’s focus on identity as a theme has resulted In one of the most comprehensive studies of several different types of trans stories. Like, VETH?!?

BEAU?!?! Not to mention FJORD’S UNRELENTING T-BOY SWAG?!?!?!

And yet.

And, yes, it is that deep. Let me explain.

Molly and Lucien are canonically genderfluid. Kingsley hasn't come out as anything yet, so the jury is still out... though many people, myself included, headcanon that he's some flavor of not cis.

For me, this is because Kingsley’s narrative is arguably more a traditional trans one than Lucien or Molly's: being born with the expectation that he would be one thing, then coming to his family — who hold that expectation quite dearly — and asserting that he is someone and something else completely different from that. Lucien and Molly are trans characters, no doubt, but their stories are not about being transgender. And there is an intrinsic quality to King's that definitely is.

The notion of "trans narrative" is also something applied to someone like Nott/Veth, even in a world where transness is not stigmatized. So while transphobia is not a thing as we understand it in Exandria, that doesn't change that Kingsley “came out” and transitioned in a more recognizable way to us than Lucien or Molly ever had to — in the same light as Veth arguably struggling with her self-image in a way that many trans viewers find exceedingly familiar.

If we can apply the queer critical lens and think of Fjord being a trans guy deconstructing toxic ideas of masculinity, or of Beau being a trans girl dealing with transphobic parents that wanted a son, got one, and cast her aside, we can also use that same level of discernment when it comes to Kingsley. There's precedent.

I don’t mean to get personal here, but the flat out dismissal of Kingsley's identity as an individual and not as the sum of other parts reminds me so much of my own experience of having come out as non-binary and then telling people that I was going to start HRT. The support dried up almost immediately the minute I made it clear I wanted to switch pronouns again and pursue medical transition, though I still conceived of myself as effectively genderless.

So long as you’re fun and funky and trans in a way that isn’t obtrusive, it’s fine. Well, “fine” isn’t the right word, but people are so fucking terrified of you becoming one of “those” trans people and taking the scary hormones and changing your body and getting the surgeries. It's the cousin of that perennial TERF talking point of "why can't you just be a tomboy/effeminate gay guy". As if being a tomboy/fem guy is somehow easier, too!! But I digress. To a lot of folks, Kingsley can be whatever he wants..........so long as he doesn't reject Molly as a foundational part of him, if not the, and heaven help him if he diverges from the mold Molly left for him.

For this reason (and for other transgender reasons that I don't want to get into), that has made engaging with a lot of this faux-Kingsley content difficult. Because Kingsley came out! Kingsley has told everyone who he is and what he's about, and folks are ignoring that in favor of an interpretation that centers a different person's existence entirely. And with this coming from a group of fans that tends to trend towards being trans, too, that's quite the bitter pill.

Creatively, I firmly believe that people can do whatever they want forever. And everyone has the right to make content where their Barbies scissor. I, for one, also am 100% guilty of it in other contexts. That doesn't bother me.

What does bother me is a collective delusion where a significant chunk of the fandom, in missing their tragically dead non-binary character, effectively stuff a separate one that resembles him back into the closet without noticing the cruelty of doing so. In fact, relishing in it.

And while these people are fictional and aren't real and can't feel pain aside from what we inflict on them narratively, it gives me pause about the way this trend mirrors common transphobic behavior I have experienced as a non-binary person myself. Thus, I cannot possibly watch it happen and not feel compelled to say something about it.

In essence, Kingsley has told us time and time again who he is and what he's about. If we say as fans that we respect the narrative integrity of Campaign 2, I think it's important that we listen and honor that.

#critical role #kingsley tealeaf #cr2 #mighty nein #'remy are you procrastinating' AND IF I WAS #new tea leafing #meta analysis #remy yells #remy writes