#i find him so compelling + its so frustrating to see people reduce him to this 1 dimensional villain when hes always been so interesting!!!

[arsenicflame]

the thing is, right, if izzy WAS evil i would still absolutely love him. hes a fictional character, i don't care about his morals if hes compelling.

but the frustrating thing is that hes not evil, hes not even the antagonist anymore by a long stretch, hes arguably more liked by the crew than ed at the moment, but people still insist that we are reading the text of the show wrong and its going to completely 180 and turn him into a cartoon villain when there is absolutely no sign of that in the show, from the cast and crew, anything!!!

its so ridiculously annoying that i feel i have to defend my stance on a character because some people are so determined to cast him into the roll of a villain he is not, and think that we are the wrong ones for simply reading what the show is putting out

#sorry to izcourse over here im jusy thinking #i think about izzys morality constantly because hes so interesting to me #i find him so compelling + its so frustrating to see people reduce him to this 1 dimensional villain when hes always been so interesting!!! #this is not my finest example of coherent thought but honestly i do not care to try and organise this into a proper argument #im fine w being incomprehensible. you get my point. #id still like him if he was evil but hes not and its frustrating to be told you shouldnt like him because hes the villain and mean to our #most precious innocent babies :( #you get the vibe. i love evil characters but izzy is not one of them #nyxtalks #ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers #the izcourse #i have actually been thinking about like. what draws me to him. the desperation!!! its the desperation that tinges everything he does #idk its so boring if you make him evil like what. why would you do that when you could give him a real fucked up divorce

[shigure]

i'll be the first to say wuthering heights could have benefited from another go round with an editor, or maybe some more time clarifying themes or what have you. but it's a very good book, and "for its time" it really surprised me. heathcliff's whole deal is that he's adopted into an upper middle class white family while definitely not considered white by those around him.

the book talks a lot about how some people are defensive of him as a kid while others are especially harsh, and kids who don't understand the reasons for those reactions grow bitter towards him for taking dad's attention away and angering mom. then there's catherine, who only sees him as a new friend, a best friend, and very honestly doesn't register any difference between them. and she's the one he forms a bond with.

but because she never really understood what he was up against in a coherent way, she doesn't know [how] to fight for him in the wider world. the earnshaws have brown hair, and catherine gets pulled into the linton family who are all blonde with blue eyes, and also are financially better off than the earnshaws. they looove catherine, but they're even more racist towards heathcliff, and cathy's approach ends up being to split her behavior depending on who she's with. this frustrates the lintons and breaks heathcliff's heart, because he thought they were a pair (so did she) but she has the power to simply step out of the line of fire directed at him, and she does so. now, according to her, part of her intention in marrying linton was to steal his money and buy heathcliff the respect he deserved, but that was never adequately communicated (nor was it "right") and then it was too late.

most movies only adapt the first half of the book, because that's ~the love story~ and then skip to the end where her ghost steals him away to walk with her forevermore. i respect this, as it's a long book, but i am very fond of the second half of the story as an exploration of a very understandably bitter man going out of his way to destroy the happiness of those around him out of spite. spite both for the actions of their forebears and spite for their banal naivety, remaining perpetually oblivious to aspects of the world that are perpetually leveraged against him. he gets his revenge. and at the end of the book, he finds happiness not through being compelled to apologize (he's not sorry) but by simply being too tired to care anymore, and relaxing his iron grip just long enough for happiness to slip into the house again. with happiness comes catherine's ghost, and he is free.

what really matters, though, is that heathcliff is an incredibly smart man, smarter than anyone else in the book, and extremely vindictive towards people that reduce him to being a stupid brute just because he's not white and has a large frame. the entire book happens the way it does because of the way he's treated. "his behavior isn't justified, but he's acting this way for a reason, and they're all blind to it." he's not an idiot. he's patient and calculating and relentless.

^ why i am principally opposed to playing l1mbus c0mp4ny

#POST #making heathcliff into a brute is unforgivable. probably a good game though

[girlfromthecrypt]

Find The Word Tag!

Another tag game I very gladly participated in! This was super fun, even though I had to kinda pull a cop out on the last word. They weren't easy to find! Anyhow, thank you @mthollowell-writes for tagging me, I really appreciate it. Here goes.

My words: Music, Steam, Rain, Ponder, Wish

The ponder-one is sorta spicy so be warned lol. I'm drawing from both my novel WIPs, Fucked Up Fairytale and Sootfingers.

Music (snippet from Sootfingers): There was quite a crowd present that evening, and Sootfingers had to squeeze past several people conversing in their own small groups until he finally plopped down on an empty bar stool right by the counter. For a couple minutes, he stayed still in his seat, listening to the music and chatter around him, trying to acclimate to the bustle.

Steam (from Fucked Up Fairytale): Following my brother around the house, I found that our aunt had spread a blanket on the grass for us to sit on, three plates and cups sitting around a steaming pot in the middle. She motioned for us to join her, already having begun to tuck into her portion of meat and veggies. She seemed to be in a good mood, her mild frustration with us from before having let up. Her smile was as bright as the midday sun, and she asked Caleb about school as we ate.

Rain (Fucked Up Fairytale): Nature had reclaimed the structure, plants sprouting from every crack and cranny. Stinging nettles and dandelions lined the ruin’s perimeter and fungi grew in its shady corners, moistened by recent rainfall. Where there was meant to be a gate, a gaping maw stared back at us, and the third wall had been reduced to a single row of bricks lying lonely on the ground.

Ponder (Fucked Up Fairytale): And then a tiny ray of light stole its way into the chaos of racing thoughts. The white-haired man appeared before my inner eye. It’s likely not the norm to fantasize about someone you’ve only met once, but seeing as I had already cast out prior feelings of shame, I set them aside once more. 

“You can watch me sleep. I might ask you inside, though. And then what will you do?”

Permitting myself to ponder this question, I closed my eyes again. This time, I remained asleep.

Wish (from Sootfingers): "I want results, you know? Not some wishy-washy feel good crap. I don't want someone holding my hands and telling me "she still loves you", I don't want some kind of empathic impression; I want to hear a fucking voice, or see a face, I want something I can actually believe in without doing mental gymnastics."

It was only when those words had already left her lips that she realized how much fury she'd let escape her.

And that's it from me! I guess I can make up words for ppl now.

Your words: Creaking, Strength, Dread, Harbor, Lips

Please, everyone who feels compelled to participate, go right ahead. I am literally so uncertain when it comes to interacting with the community lol but Imma tag @rehnwriter @keysandopenmind @a-crows-corner @fayeiswriting @written-in-mold hope that's okay, no pressure

#writeblr #writeblr tag games #find the word tag #find the word game #writers on tumblr #original fiction #original writing #original character #oc #horror writing #creative writing #writer things #novel wip #wip snippet #my writing #my words #amwriting

[kilikina34512]

A Siren's Call

Pairing: Bucky x fem!reader

Summary: It's late and your body is starving. It's taken all night until you stumble upon the perfect meal - James. A tall, hunky, metal-armed man that looks like he needs a distraction as bad as you need a night of pleasure. Why not compel him to indulge in just that?

Warnings: mildly dub con, oral, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids), Bucky dirty talk is a warning on its own, it's smut guys expect hot things to happen so only 18+ beyond here.

Word Count: 3,170

I hope you enjoy another contribution to Kinktober. I'm so in love with this one and I hope you will be too! This one was inspired by The Bargainer series by Laura Thalassa. Divider courtesy of @firefly-graphics. Make sure to check them out!

It was late at night and you were walking the streets of New York starving. You'd spent a good hour combing the sidewalks of the nightclub area you lived near, but for some reason, you couldn't find a single appetizing piece of meat. Typically, you didn't struggle with this. Typically, you weren't overly picky.

Something had you choosing selectively this night though.

Out of frustration, you would've turned around and gone home and tried again tomorrow, if this were any other night. You knew that if you did that, you'd be lethargic tomorrow. Dragging yourself out of bed to find food tomorrow would be too much work.

Aside from the fact that something, something, was keeping you searching.

Another twenty minutes of strolling the streets and you were finally ready to just accept the fate of what tomorrow would bring. Maybe if you took a soak in the tub or went for a swim in the ocean, you could handle the side effects of not feeding, but it wouldn't take away the extreme fatigue, the aches, the grumpiness, the feeling of starvation, only reduce it.

Flipping about would have to be the answer to your solution because no matter how many eateries you passed, none of them would satisfy your needs.

Turning around to go home, that's when you saw what you needed. The meal to satisfy your hunger.

A man easily six feet tall was walking in your direction. Broad and beefy, his solid white shirt and black pants molded to his body, the leather jacket he sported only giving him a bad boy vibe. His short brunette hair stood out against his pale skin every time he was underneath the glow of a street light. With his head down and his shoulders looking stiff, you couldn't help but feel that this man had a tremendous weight on his shoulders. A weight you could help loosen while satisfying your starvation.

You weren't sure why, but this man was calling to you. You quietly huffed out a chuckle incredulously at the realization. You were a siren. You called and lured men to you, not the other way around.

But that didn't change the pull you felt to him. Following the instincts of the creature you were, you slowly approached him, stepping into his path and forcing him to stop. As soon as he did, his head shot up and your gaze was ensnared by blue eyes that reminded you of the depths of the ocean that called to your nature.

He blinked, breaking the trance you'd been stuck in, and said, "Excuse me." With that, he stepped around you and began walking down the street again. Away from you.

The siren in you was instantly aggravated at this. You could feel your hackles rising at the insult to you. That beautiful man, that delicious prey, just strolled away from you as if it couldn't sense the predator standing in front of him.

Does he not realize that you could ensnare him the same way his eyes ensnared you? Does he not see that your beauty was unmatched by any normal human being? Does he not know that with a few notes of a melody, you could have him doing your bidding?

You could have him do something as embarrassing as picking his nose in front of a room full of people to as heinous as forcing him to slit his own throat. Not that you would, you were too hungry - and typically too moral - to do anything along that spectrum. You needed to feed, to recharge your siren. The best, most enjoyable, most legal and moral way you've found to do that is by sleeping with someone under your thrall.

And that was exactly what you had planned for the prey that's walking away.

Keep reading here.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #ao3fic #bucky fic #oneshot #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #smut #dubious consent #siren #unprotected sex #p in v

[llycaons]

I rag on jc a lot but I think ppl should keep in mind he was in a difficult position in the flashback arc. and he's never been a risktaker. sure, he could have given his starving brother and his commune some money during his visit since they're apparently on the same page. he could have offered to take a-yuan, literal toddler, away from near certain death. he could have defended the wens more using his political power. he could have even used to his debt to them to justify why he would defend a bunch of wens. and it's upsetting to see this because there really are fifty-odd elders here who are absolutely innocent and jc is the only one with the political power and any reason to make a real difference in their extermination campaign

but he was a teenager with a lot of unprocessed trauma and emotional issues being actively manipulated by older cultivators, he had an incredibly important responsibility to his dead parents and to his family, and neither he nor wwx were willing or able to talk it out, and I hate to say this but wwx made choices that did not make it easier...at a certain point pushing blame around seems like like exercise in futility. wwx and wen ning at least, would have been targeted by the jins anyway. I don't think jc could have stopped it without destroying his own sect, he wasn't an experienced or powerful or politically savvy enough leader. and I don't think it's fair to reduce his motivation down to personal self-interest or wanting to maintain his political status or his privilege, which is what a lot of haters seem to be doing

so yeah he definitely could have done more, but it's more his postres actions that really piss me off. for one, it's frustrating how he only cares about how he feels and rarely extends any empathy and compassion to anyone else. very self-centered...that's why I like lwj so much more postres, since he actually underwent self-reflection and examined his actions and then changed his behavior and worked to improve his sect. thats why a lot of people like him, including wwx! but I honestly find 1:1 comparisons of them reductive because they're in very different situations. even if that's kind of the point of their characters

jc is like...hes a very well-written and compelling character and I get why people want him to have done better than he did. and there's a lot to be said for jc not having the social and material support structure, and the tools to handle his emotions, that lwj had his entire life. imo it's not productive to blame jc when they're in such different positions, and I think its unfortunate that hardcore haters only focus on the ends and not examine the process with some compassion. lwj did what he could, but he was protected by his sect and elders as jc wasn't. the tradeoff is that he legitimately had very little power in his sect to do anything on a larger scale even though he wanted to. we see how much he was punished for even visiting wwx, not to mention his three YEARS of seclusion after attacking his elders. giving wq money, leaving cultivation meetings he didn't approve of, speaking for the wens right before they turned themselves in, and saving a-yuan...these were small things (except saving a-yuan, actually that was huge), but they mattered. wen ning remembered. and jc could have done some of them had he wanted to

something that impedes the discussion is that I think both the story and the fans are encouraged to think of skill as a moral triumph. wen ning refutes this mindset a little, but of lot of jc criticisms seem to imply that being bad at cultivation means he's then a bad person. it's something that frustrates me about the story, and another reason I love wen ning. I prefer to analyze how characters react to being poor at a certain desired skill, and what commentary on the social structure the text is providing

#hmmm this is rambly jc gets my brain juice flowing #I dont like or dislike him but a secret third thing #I am annoyed by how hes unable to see anything past his own feelings esp postres #and I hate when fans act like hes actually SUCH a good brother and everything he did was for love #etc. nah I saw him try to strangle wwx snd then never apologize for it #he was primed to blame wwx for everything of course hes acting like this #man I wonder if he even remembers that moment #if he was so delirious and out of it that it just didnt register #or that hurting wwx was something so unimportant as to be forgotten :( #not that theyll ever talk about it :( #cql txp

[skye-huntress]

RWBY Panel 2021 Reaction

I figured why not. I was up at three in the morning to watch the panel just for even the smallest sneak peak or news of Volume 9 so I might as well throw out my reactions and thoughts into the void of the internet.

Let me start off with the biggest non-news, the lack of date for Volume 9. In the back of my mind, this was something I feared to expect. Between the pandemic, the blackouts, and probably a lot of other disrupting forces I am not aware about, it’s not reasonable to expect CRWBY to be at the same place with every upcoming volume every year. Similar for the Volume 8 Soundtrack, though for that I wasn’t expecting to hear any new updates on.

I am interested in the new game, Arrowfell, though I will admit that side-scrollers are not a style of game I’ve ever found compelling. It’s RWBY though, so of course I am going to check it out. They never said anything about what platforms it would be on though.

Now for the sneaky peak:

I’ll admit, that first half of it was intense. It really brought everything back, the anxiety, the near-panic, the anticipation of what would happen. It felt fresh seeing it from Ruby’s perspective.

Maybe seeing Yang’s fall happen in realtime will get people to lighten up on Ruby and realise that she couldn’t have really done anything, but I doubt it.

It is interesting to see how the edges of Ruby’s vision light up when she’s trying to call on her silver eye powers. I’d wager she experiences other sensations as well when its working and not just the sudden fatigue we see her go through after the fact.

So Neo is still attacking Ruby on sight despite the fact this path may have already sealed both their fates. I feel I should say this, I don’t think there is any reasoning with Neo. If she’s half as smart as she thinks she is, there���s no way she genuinely believes Ruby is responsible for Roman’s death. She went after Cinder first for a reason. She’s angry and in pain, and she needs someone a little easier to stab than a rogue maiden to take out her frustrations on. Ruby’s just a convenient scapegoat for Neo. One way or another, it will end this volume.

Oscar, Yang, Penny. These are all people Ruby has failed recently. Oscar was captured and tortured and Ruby didn’t even hear of it until afterwards. Yang took the blow meant for her and was the first to fall. Penny is the Maiden and it was Ruby’s job to protect her but now she is at Cinder’s mercy and that bitch doesn’t even have the word in her vocabulary. I feel this is the volume where Ruby has to confront her failures and increasing doubts about her leadership. We’ve been building up to it for a while

All alone and unarmed on a shore, in a strange place in another world. Nothing to do but keep moving forward.

At the very least, that she landed in the same realm we saw Crescent Rose suggests all or at least some of the Fallen have ended up in the same place.

Predictions

For Ruby, I think this will be a critical volume for her. All sorts of negativity has been building up with her for a while now and with her current situation, the fate of her friends, and when the news of Penny’s death inevitably reaches her, something is going to give. This might be a break from the plot but it is also a break for Ruby to reevaluate her leadership, her choices and how she’s been handling basically everything. How this changes her will likely determine the direction of the show and how the protagonists confront Salem going forward.

For Weiss, this could also be a big volume for her. For one, she’s gained and lost a lot this volume. Atlas, for all its faults which caused her to leave it twice, was her home, and now it is rubble and those of her people that survived are now refugees in a Kingdom they are not necessarily welcome. She confronted her father, and was working on her relationship with the rest of her family, but is now separated from them. She wasn’t as close with Penny as Ruby, but she lost her, too, and now her sister has the same target on her back and is probably doomed to suffer the same fate sooner or later. She also thought she lost her other family and it will be bittersweet to find herself stranded with them if when she can find them again. It’s been a rollercoaster for her.

While on this note, I think we are due for a heart-to-heart between Ruby and Weiss. Ruby recently had a talk with both Blake and Yang about her leadership, but I think Weiss has the best chance of actually reaching her. After all, Weiss was the first one to openly express doubts about Ruby being a leader, and it was also a position she once coveted for herself. Weiss is the sceptic turned believer, and she’s not afraid to call things as they are, so I think she is and always was the best one to talk to Ruby about this, which is why I think they never had this conversation before. Now that Ruby is in this critical stage, of course this is the perfect time for her once reluctant and now devoted partner to put in her two cents.

Since everything went down with Adam and her relationship with Yang improved, I haven’t been quite sure where Blake’s character arc will go from there. When Yang fell, she nearly completely lost and it clouded her judgment. After her talk with Nora, I wonder if Blake herself needs to reevaluate if perhaps there are parts about her own life and wellbeing that she has neglected since she and Yang have gotten closer. Perhaps it’s a time for her to reevaluate her priorities, which doesn’t necessarily mean distancing herself from Yang but it could still mean she puts more effort into herself and her other relationships, especially with Ruby, Weiss and Jaune.

Yang was the first to fall and everything went to shit after the fact. She stopped a sneak attack on Ruby but she couldn’t stop Neo or Cinder, and she was not there for her team or Penny. That moment is probably also too familiar to what happened with Adam at Beacon for Yang’s comfort, not that I think there was anything she could do better in either situation besides simply being faster. I don’t know what Yang’s response to everything will be, what effect this will have on her. Plus I can’t forget that she’s probably suffering a concussion right now.

As for the Bees, despite all they’ve been through and even with the split that happened last volume, they were still closer than ever. There’s a mutual respect there for each other’s decisions. If one is going through something, the other will be there to talk them through it or even simply be a shoulder to cry on. If this is a situation that they’ll be stuck on for the foreseeable future, at least they have each other and there are worse places they could be stranded in. Despite everything that happened or maybe even because of it, it might seem the perfect setting and timing for some confessions and more.

Now to Jaune. He certainly hasn’t had it easy. From the start, he was the furthest behind among his peers, and now he’s been licensed earlier than most of them. Pyrrha helped him a lot with that, and was the first to believe in him and she was taken from him, and it seems he came to terms with that since Argus. He didn’t let his grief blind him and he stayed on task with the evacuation, and he wasn’t reckless when he did confront Cinder. He did everything right, but it wasn’t enough to save Penny and in the end he had little choice but to respect her dying wish. It had to be done, I don’t blame him for being put in that position, but it’s still got to hurt. It’s also so appropriate that his weapon, one of his most important tools as a Huntsman, was broken after spilling innocent blood, almost like a punishment(?) for his “betrayal” to what a Huntsman is suppose to be. He’s going to carry this until the day he dies, and now he has to face his friends, especially his best friend whom was the closest of all of them to Penny.

Finally Neo. Like I said, I don’t think she can be reasoned with. She abandoned any sort of rationale a long time ago, and it will take more than words to shake her out of it, if it’s even possible anymore. I doubt there will be a peaceful solution to this conflict, it feels too similar to what went down with Adam towards his end. He also refused to back down, he too insisted on making Blake his scapegoat, and despite being given every chance to walk away, he persisted until his death. Time will tell if Neo can avoid that fate, but my doubts about that have only strengthened since the sneak peak.

As for Oscar and the others, I already had my doubts about whether we’d see them at all. The way CRWBY talked about this volume, it seems clear that this is our break from the main narrative so I doubt we will be seeing much of Vacuo yet. I am more than okay with that, it’d be good to take a break from the main plot and focus and our main girls again and we’ll get more of that with a significantly reduced cast.

#rwby #rwby8 #rwby8 spoilers #rwby9 #rwby9 spoilers

[lsgingasblog]

Yh is a travesty, but here are a few things I still liked enough/ find amusing/somewhat curious about:

1. Moroha is a lil shit and a ball of sunshine. Must Protecc.

2. Sesshomaru's mom- her savagery is great

3. Touga's pretty cool

4. The 2nd opening song of YH slaps

5. While not compelling as og Inuyasha I do enjoy the dynamics enough when sunrise actually cares to remember they marketed this a main trio kind of story. That said I don't get as much a feeling of family as the og Inuyasha group. Which is ironic considering they're actually cousins.

6. Was nice seeing Souta and funny to see him use same excuse grampa higurashi used to explain kagome's absence back then and towa's now xD.

7. Towa's character design is ite, wish she wasn't so frustrating though.

8. Setsuna when she actualy shows emotion is nice.

9. Kohaku is kinda hot. No, that's all really.

10. Miroku's daughter teasing miroku for a hot minute was amusing.

11. Riku is confusing, but I'm curious enough to see how his story ends. Although I'm indifferent about him and towa in a romantic capacity.

12. Kaede and granpa higurashi are in the immortal human club and you can't tell me otherwise.

13. Please let inuyasha and kagome out.

14. I feel bad for Rin being in stasis for years, also her being the mother is uncomfortable to me.

That said with kagura dead when I heard of sequel info I was filled with dread, because unless they brought kagura back, which on one hand yay my ship, but it would lessen the impact of her death. And her death is still one of the saddest death in anime for me. She just wanted to be free like the wind ;-;

It is feudal era however and while it doesn't make it any less uncomfortable for me, putting a modern lens at an era that was 500 years ago in the past is sort of a moot point to some extent.

It's frustrating for me though because I feel like I've been usagi drop-ped all over again. An anime about a salaryman somehow deciding to take in the kid of an elder relative that passed away.

If people tell you there's a manga they're filthy liars who would just as readily recommend boco no pico when you ask for anime recommendations.

To be fair I did like Rin in the og Inuyasha but feel weird because I thought that it was mostly just a caretaker bond and secondly feels Rin was just reduced to baby making and then stuck in a tree for years. She has shit luck, poor Rin.

In any case here's hoping they don't drag out another season, but unsure what it will be. I know I'm out after this season tho regardless if it does get a 2nd one.

#yashahime

[beneaththetangles]

Tangles Writers Do Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai, Arc 2: To Drop or Not to Drop

Greetings, Tangles readers!

Yesterday, Twwk posted an excellent article to kick off our deep dive into the Bunny Girl Senpai series. Twwk’s article focused largely on Sakuta’s character: his selfless, genuine love for Mai and his transparent, authentic self. But of course, Sakuta’s character isn’t all sunshine. As Twwk points out, he tends to dance on the line of commitment to Mai throughout the show, and often gets himself into trouble with his speech and conduct.

And if you’re looking for a perfect example of these negative characteristics which Twwk discussed, look no further than Tomoe’s arc. In some ways, this arc presents Sakuta with no filter—authentic and honest, sure, but also hurtful and demeaning. Today, I’ll be writing about how episodes four through six of Bunny Girl Senpai almost compelled me to drop the show. I’ll reason through why I ultimately decided to stick around. And I’ll describe how my personal struggle with this arc of Bunny Girl Senpai finds its place not only in Tomoe’s story, but also, perhaps, in your own.

Got all that? Good. Let’s proceed.

Before we continue, enjoy a coffee break, sponsored by best girl Rio Futaba. (Look out for her article in a few days!)

I’ve always had a strained relationship with Bunny Girl Senpai. Let me be clear: I’m 90% into this anime for the cheeky banter between Sakuta and Mai. It’s fantastic. So I really liked the first three episodes of the show. Episode four, in contrast, presents the first signs of genuine conflict between the two, as Tomoe’s Adolescent-Syndrome-caused looping leads to a misunderstanding with not only Mai, but the whole school. Ultimately, Tomoe and Sakuta end up feigning a relationship for Tomoe’s sake: Her friends think that she’s dating Sakuta and she feels uncomfortable admitting their mistake.

Already, the flashing lights were going off in my head. Mai’s gone and Sakuta’s pretending to date someone else? It all seems foolish and immature and out-of-character. (And where’s my Mai dialogue?) Regardless, I was willing to forgive those minor setbacks to see how things would go in Tomoe’s story. But as things progressed, it became very clear that the dynamic between Sakuta and Tomoe was far different than that between Sakuta and Mai. In some ways, it was endearing. Sakuta’s sort of like a big brother to Tomoe, hanging out with her, bringing her food when she’s sick, and lending her an ear amidst her struggles.

But as many big brothers are wont to do, Sakuta pokes fun at Tomoe. And many times, it goes way too far. Now, I’m willing to admit that some of the discomfort I felt at Sakuta’s jokes might say more about my boundaries than the show itself.1 But much of what Sakuta says to Tomoe in this arc could genuinely be classified as sexual harassment, and there’s times when the jokes genuinely trouble Tomoe. It threw me off, to the point that I was ready to cast the show away out of sheer discomfort.

Amen, Tomoe. Amen

Why, then, did I decide to stick with the show?

Before I continue to answer that question, I’d like to clarify the tension I’m describing here a little. I don’t mean to imply that watching Bunny Girl Senpai violated my conscience. Stay away from shows like that—but I’m talking about something a little different. Bunny Girl Senpai doesn’t violate my conscience in these scenes; it violates my moral standards. These scenes don’t tempt me to sin; they portray sin as a good thing. They don’t inspire shame but anger: anger at wrongs going unpunished.

Maybe a few examples will help to clarify what I’m trying to say. When I think of problematic anime, I think of Made in Abyss, which contains several scenes that arguably sexualize minors. Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Maid, one of my favorite shows, runs into the same issue with the relationship between Lucoa and Shouta. And The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya, a fan favorite, has its own issues with sexual harassment as well. These are all shows which clearly contain scenes which violate moral standards in such a way that no one could be blamed for dropping them outright.

Of course, all the shows that I’ve listed, including Bunny Girl Senpai, are shows that I watched through to the end. So why didn’t I drop them? There’s a lot I could say here, but in short, it’s because each show, despite its flaws, had something worth staying for. Haruhi drew me in with its absurd yet hopeful celebration of the oddities of this world. Kobayashi reminded me that sometimes it only takes a dinner table to welcome those who share nothing in common with you. And Made in Abyss presented a stirring tale of adventure with its own moral quandaries to boot.

What about Bunny Girl Senpai, then? Well, if it’s Sakuta’s personality that turned me off, it’s the same personality that kept me coming back. Again, despite his flaws, Sakuta is abundantly authentic. At his best, he hates lies and misunderstandings; he doesn’t pull punches; he says exactly what he’s thinking. And for Tomoe, who’s struggling with fitting in and finding her own identity in the midst of the chaos of adolescent social interactions, Sakuta’s bluntness comes as a great reassurance. Regardless of how her friends treat her, she knows Sakuta will always treat her the same way he always has. He’ll always be there for her.

In fact, I have a theory. I think that Tomoe’s struggle to reconcile Sakuta’s good and bad sides isn’t too much different from my own. Even as she finds herself angered and frustrated by the things Sakuta says, she knows there isn’t genuine malice behind them, because she knows Sakuta is for her. His bluntness sets her on edge, but it also sets her at ease, because she knows he’s willing to tell her what she needs to hear, and to help her grow in the process. It’s because Sakuta is Sakuta that she knows that she’ll be loved no matter where she’s at. It gives her the confidence to move forward.2

And in the end, I think the moral tensions that I’ve described in this article aren’t too much different from the same tensions we experience in all our lives. It’s really easy for us as people to polarize reality. That artist or that book or that show is problematic, so anyone who supports them is problematic. Alternatively: that artist or that book or that show is good, so anyone who discredits them is wrong. But life is more complex than that. I should know: I find that complexity in my own heart, as I vacillate between good and bad intentions and desires and actions. Like Sakuta, I can issue a word of wisdom in one moment and a word of mockery in another.3 I need grace in every moment of my life. We all do.

So what if, instead of polarizing reality, we learned to live as children of grace? What if, when people hurt us, instead of responding in anger, we responded in gentle love? What if, when ideas harmed us, we wrestled with them rather than smacking them down? What if, when media unsettled us, we stopped to ponder intentions, rather than to assume them?

I don’t have answers to those questions. It’s certainly a hard task, to show the grace we’ve been given. But, at the very least, I hope I’ve shown that it’s okay to wrestle with these tensions rather than to find cheap answers. That is, after all, what Bunny Girl Senpai is about: learning to live in a world where there are no cheap answers, and demonstrating kindness and faithfulness in the meantime. Those are lessons worth learning—even if there are a few rough patches along the way.4

=====

Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai can be streamed on Funimation.

1 To be fair to the writers of the show, some of the worst jokes from the light novel source were toned down for the adaptation. The comments still make me deeply uncomfortable, though. 2 I want to be very careful here. I don’t mean to say that Tomoe shouldn’t feel angry at Sakuta for the things he says. I’m simply pointing out that she’s facing the same tension I am in deciding whether or not to stick with the show: the antithesis between affirming what is good and confronting what isn’t. 3 Again, in an abundance of caution, I’ll say that while both Sakuta and myself exhibit these sorts of moral tensions, that doesn’t reduce the weight of Sakuta’s sins. I’m not excusing Sakuta; I’m condemning both him and myself. 4 Much of what I said in this post was inspired by Alan Jacobs’ Breaking Bread with the Dead, which argues for reading classical literature because of its ability to confront our sensibilities and form us into better people. In some sense, I think his argument can be adapted into a case for watching anime in the same sort of way, and that’s what I’ve tried to do here.

#Anime #Rascal Does Not Dream of Bunny Girl Senpai #Seishun Buta Yarou wa Bunny Girl Senpai no Yume wo Minai #Grace #Sin #Articles #Author: sleepminusminus

[bbq-hawks-wings]

Really long ask - Part 1: Hi, sorry for this long rant, but I just wanted to vent since I saw this latest story posted on AO3 and I am restraining myself on commenting on their story so I'm just letting my anger out here about it and other issues regarding fan-depiction of Hawks. It's vaguely related to your post on how DabiHawks or Dabi+Hawks stories make it all about Dabi and always made Hawks out to be the one who starts the problems in their relationship or is the one trying to get Dabi's

Content warning: passing mention of r*pe in a fanfiction.

LOOOONG post under the cut.

(Cont.)

Dabi's attentions when it's canon that it's the complete opposite. This latest story that came up in my feed was about Hawks "harassing" Dabi (who apparently has a backstory of r*pe) and Twice helps Dabi works out his feelings. Among the hoards of tags condemning Hawks, they decided to use "Hawks is very uncool in this fic heads up" so that's another one to add to my filters. I think I also have to block the "Dabi Needs a Hug" tags too bc he's always woobified like heck. 

I really want to read stories where Hawks interacts with Twice since they have a bond/drama with each other, but people have been adding Dabi and either making it seem like Hawks has been gaslighting Dabi in their "relationship" or with Twice. I can acknowledge stories where Hawks feels guilty for what he had to do or Twice being anger/betrayed over Hawks' actions since that is actually what happened; but I will not stand for Dabi claiming Hawks took advantage of Twice or Twice and Dabi having feelings for each other with Hawks in the way bc Dabi is a) the one who let Hawks in b) knew Twice is gullible and c) used Twice as bait. Even in the stories that are cute/causal+funny, Hawks is always the one who gets threatened with fire, harsh insults, or guilted into compliance but the seriousness of the first 2 are always brushed off and the third kinda makes me want it that Hawks doesn't have friends bc most people write him as a bad friend who only cares about his own problems (especially the ones that write Hawks like a celebrity/night club person). 

On writing Dabi, his issues always take priority over everything else, his family loves him, and the lov is always chill with him. He's usually written as the fun asshole/caretaker (bc of his big brother status or ablity to cook). Those factors aren't bad by itself, but it's extremely irritating when the writers/artists can give that level of care to Dabi, but just reduce Hawks to a meme who is a workaholic for the government/scared of punishment & not bc he really cares about the people he saves/helps. It's not like I hate the DabiHawks pairing, but the majority of the content (esp the recent ones), are frustrating to read & Hawks' character is usually written in bad out of character extremes. I am really mystified that I'm praying for canon content rather than fanmade most of the time.

Phew! After the back and forth it looks like we got to the end of that! (Or did we?! *Dun dun DUUUUN*) If not, though, feel free to keep the asks rolling. Lol Foxy and I are usually pretty happy to receive as many asks as people want to send even if it takes us a while, individually, to get to it. Now to finally address what you sent.

I find myself in a weird place when it comes to OOC fanfic because on the one hand people can write whatever they want, and I don’t really have a place to criticize them; but also when they blatantly and willingly misinterpret a character so they have grounds to bash on them it also leaves me acutely uncomfortable. I don’t think I’d call it “problematic” as much as a squick? Like, if they’re willing to blow past all the obvious proof to the contrary about their claims of a fictional character just because they hate them, then are they willing to do the same thing to a real person? Usually, those kinds of thoughts are pointlessly extreme, but we know those who unironically and/or unapologeticly call fans of the heroes “bootlickers” so... It’s like, ooc vent fics are also fine; and if you want to rewrite a character to fit the narrative scheme you’ve set up that’s cool as long as its tagged (“ooc [character]” or something) and/or just mention in the a/n that they knowingly and willingly mischaracterized them for the sake of the fic. Just. Don’t. Claim. It’s. Canon.

And speaking of canon, as much as I’m sure Horikoshi knew Hawks and Dabi were going to end up shipped I think it’s obvious that he never was going to canonically write them ending up together, yet here comes the “canon must validate my headcanon” crowd calling him a bad writer because the author had some bigger narrative goal in mind than having two pretty anime boys kissing.

And the worst part to me is, I feel there’s a distinct slice of the DabiHawks crowd missing out on some of the possibilities of this ship by intentionally mischaracterizing them. Like, the aesthetic equal/opposite draw of the ship is phenomenal as it is and I don’t even ship them, but I can see a wide range of possible fics based solely on the principle that they are canonically incompatible!

At the end of the day, Dabi is a dime-a-dozen edgelord - that pain in the butt OC that so many newbie D&D players make that they think is so deep and dark and mature, but is about as cookie-cutter as they come. It’s not that this kind of character is unsalvageable or a hopeless Gary Stu character, just that they don’t often come across as compelling in and of themselves or that they need more than just selfish hatred to carry them through a series. Two kinds of edgelords that can be done well are the “Out of the Ashes” edgelord and “I’ll Pull You Into Hell With Me” edgelord. The first kind recognizes there’s more to life than their sad backstory and getting even and thus choose to aspire to more noble causes - think Joel from The Last of Us. The second recognizes they’re actively doing wrong and come to embrace it - being more concerned with getting what they want than taking the moral high ground - think Frank Castle, aka the Punisher - and even these darker, “unsaveable” kinds of edgelord antiheroes can have redeeming qualities such as meeting and helping a young hopeful and telling them, “I know I’m on the road to hell, so if you want to save yourself you’d better not follow me.”

Dabi actually has what he needs to become the second type right now (assuming he’s Touya) and could even evolve into the first not unlike Kratos from God of War, but that potential can’t be fully recognized until you admit that he’s fundamentally self-centered and a bad person as-is. He may have the tragic backstory complete with justifiable hate at his genuinely abusive father, but rather than using that as fuel to see that never happen to anyone else like it did him - he just wants to get even. He burns people alive, knowing well he’s participating in the same destruction that his father committed to make him what he is now. He doesn’t recognize any of the merits of hero society and is only concerned with burning it to ash. He could use what happened to his family to incite compassion in his heart and take others under his wing, but instead he uses people as a mean to his own ends. He isn’t even proper grimdark - he’s just your run of the mill egotistical megalomaniac with a punk aesthetic.

And that’s still a good character in the grand scheme of things, maybe just not alone! Moreso, it’s a good villain and EVEN BETTER when you put him next to Hawks who is at his core:

Fundamentally Hopepunk!

Hopepunk is about being good and kind as an act of rebellion against a cruel and unfair world no matter how bleak it gets or how badly you’re beaten down. Despite his own cruel past, Hawks still has a heart to help others for no other reason than to help them, he constantly changes the odds to save as many people as he can when he’d be given a pass for letting the cards fall where they will, and not only is his aim to “help others” but to make sure that there’ll never be need for heroes again. He’s an active rebel against the system fighting with kindness and goodness, fervently looking and listening for the next opportunity to do good.

In agreement with you, Hawks and Twice are interesting to explore because while Twice is an optimist looking to make the world a better place, he’s still a step or two removed from Hawks’ worldview because Twice refuses to let go of the “family” he found for himself while Hawks is willing to sacrifice himself for others. That dynamic is so interesting, and it’s what made them so initially compatible and subsequently heartbreaking in canon.

And it’s such a disappointment to see this unwaveringly earnest character reduced to “shitty fratboy” so often. For a lot of people newer to his character I can understand the confusion, but there really isn’t an excuse if you’ve been reading the series, and the possibilities for fics with this canon personality are just so much more interesting to explore, especially with Dabi as his sort-of opposite.

For DabiHawks to work well, you have to recognize that something has to give in either of them. Some of the juiciest, most angsty content is when you have two characters grow close together over commonalities only to be reminded that despite everything else they share, that One Thing will always keep them from truly being able to see eye-to-eye. Either Dabi has to grow past his hatred and relearn compassion and empathy, or Hawks has to lose grip of that hopeful vision he has and fall into despair. Both options are good to explore, but both require the acknowledgement that Dabi’s view of the world is fundamentally bleak and selfish, especially compared to Hawks’. For a supposed revolutionary out to change the world for the better whose a diamond in the rough with a heart of gold, that’s not exactly on-brand; and at the end of the day the issue is that some are unwilling to admit that what they wanted Dabi to be is likely not going to happen and they love that fake version Dabi more than they love what Hawks actually stands for which is why Hawks always gets the shaft in the end.

I still personally hold a bit of a grudge against the DaiHawks ship as a whole purely because, as you said, Dabi always seems to take priority over Hawks instead of letting the two build a dynamic together. Hawks is always the one who has to give, and the torture porn some have made him go through to “make the ship work” is downright disturbing to me. Even at its height DabiHawks content completely flooded the Hawks character tags on Tumblr with some of the same problems that have persisted to this day such as emphasizing their aesthetic as opposed to their dynamic and rampant mischaracterization.

Anyway, that’s my long-winded response. What do you think, @autumn-foxfire?

#long post anon #autumn-foxfire #let's talk hawks

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/7/2020

I missed THE GOLDEN GLOVE at Fantastic Fest last year. It was one of my only regrets of the whole experience, but it was basically mandatory since the available screenings were opposite the much-hyped PARASITE. As annoying as that sounds, it was actually a major compliment, since what could possibly serve as a consolation prize for the most hotly anticipated movie of the year? Needless to say, I heard great things, but I could never have imagined what it was actually like. I'm still wrapping my mind around it.

Between 1970 and 1975, an exceptionally depraved serial killer named Fritz Honka murdered at least four prostitutes in Hamburg's red light district. Today, we tend to think of the archetypal serial killer in terms of ironic contradictions: The public is attracted by Ted Bundy's dashing looks and suave manner, and John Wayne Gayce's dual careers as politician and party clown. Lacking anything so remarkable, we associate psychopathy with Norman Bates' boy-next-door charm, and repeat "It's always the quiet ones" with a smirk whenever a new Jeffrey Dahmer or Dennis Nilsen is exposed to the public. The popular conception of a bloodthirsty maniac is not the fairytale monster of yore, but a wolf in sheep's clothing, whose hygienic appearance and lifestyle belie his twisted desires. In our post-everything world, the ironic surprise has become the rule. In this light, THE GOLDEN GLOVE represents a refreshing return to naked truth.

To say that writer-director Fatih Akin's version of the Fritz Honka story is shocking, repulsive, and utterly degenerated would be a gross understatement. We first meet the killer frantically trying to dispose of a corpse in his filthy flat, wallpapered with porno pinups, strewn with broken toys, and virtually projecting smell lines off of the screen. One's sense of embodiment is oppressive, even claustrophobic, as the petite Honka tries and fails to collapse the full dead weight of a human corpse into a garbage bag, before giving up and dismembering it, with nearly equal difficulty. The scene is appalling, utterly debased, and yet nothing is as shocking as the killer's visage. When he finally turns to look into the camera, it's hard to believe he's even human: the rolling glass eye, the smashed and inflated nose, the tombstone teeth and cratered skin, are almost too extreme to bear. Actually, suffering from a touch of facial blindness, I had to stare intently at Honka's face for nearly half the movie before I could fully convince myself that I was, in fact, looking at an elaborate prosthetic operation used to transform 23 year old boy band candidate Jonas Dassler into the disfigured 35 year old serial murderer.

Though West Germany remained on a steady economic upturn beginning in the 1950s and throughout the 1970s, you wouldn't know it from THE GOLDEN GLOVE. If Honka's outsides match his insides, they are further matched by his stomping grounds in the Reeperbahn, a dirty, violent, booze-soaked repository for the dregs of humanity. Though its denizens may come from different walks of life, one thing is certain: Whoever winds up there, belongs there. Honka was the child of a communist and grew up in a concentration camp, yet he swills vodka side by side with an ex-SS officer, among other societal rejects, in a crumbling dive called The Golden Glove. The scene is an excellent source of hopeless prostitutes at the end of their career, who are Honka's prime victims, as he is too frightful-looking to ensnare an attractive young girl. These pitiful women all display a peculiarly hypnotic willingness to go along with Honka, no matter how sadistic he becomes; this seems to have less to do with money, which rarely comes up, and more to do with their shared awareness that for them, and for Honka too, it's been all over, for a long time.

Not to reduce someone’s performance to their physical appearance, but ???

To call Dassler's portrayal of Honka "sympathetic" would be a bridge too far, but it is undeniably compelling. He supports the startling impact of his facial prostheses with a performance of rare intensity, a full-body transformation into a person in so much pain that a normal life will never become an option. His physical vocabulary reminded me of the stage version of The Elephant Man, in which the lead actor wears no makeup, but conveys John Merrick's deformities using his body alone. Although there is an abundance of makeup in THE GOLDEN GLOVE, Dassler's silhouette and agonized movements would be recognizable from a mile away. In spite of his near-constant screaming rage, the actor manages to craft a rich and convincing persona. During a chapter in which Honka experiments with sobriety, we find a stunning image of him hunched in the corner of his ordinarily chaotic flat, now deathly still, his eyes gazing at nothing as cigarette smoke seeps from his pores, having no idea what to do with himself when he isn't in a rolling alcoholic rampage. The moment is brief but haunting in its contrast to the rest of the film, having everything to do with Dassler's quietly vibrating anxiety.

Performances are roundly excellent here, not that least of which are from Honka's victims. The cast of middle-aged actresses looking their most disastrous is hugely responsible for the film's impact. These are the kinds of performances people call "brave", which is a euphemism for making audiences uncomfortable with an uncompromising presentation of one's own self, unvarnished by any masturbatory solicitation. Among these women is Margarete Tiesel, herself no stranger to difficult cinema: She was the star of 2012's PARADISE: LOVE, a harrowing drama about a woman who copes with her midlife crisis by pursuing sex tourism in Kenya. Her brilliant, instinctive performance as one of Honka's only survivors--though she nearly meets a fate worse than death--makes her the leading lady of a movie that was never meant to have one.

So, what does all this unpleasantness add up to, you might be asking? It's hard to say. THE GOLDEN GLOVE is a film of enormous power, but it can be difficult to explain what the point of it is, in a world where most people feel that the purpose of art is to produce some form of pleasure. This is the challenge faced by difficult movies throughout history, like THE GOLDEN GLOVE's obvious ancestors, HENRY: PORTRAIT OF A SERIAL KILLER, MANIAC and THE TEXAS CHAIN SAW MASSACRE. Describing unremitting cruelty with relentless realism is not considered a worthy endeavor by many, even if there is real artistry in your execution; some people will even mistake you for advocating and enjoying violence and despair, as we live in a world where huge amount of movie and TV production is devoted to aspirational subjects. (The fact that people won't turn away from the Marvel Cinematic Universe movies, no matter how monotonous and condescending they become, should tell you something) How do you justify to such people, that you want to make or see work that portrays ugliness and evil with as much commitment as other movies seek to portray love, beauty, and family values? Why isn't it enough to say that these things exist, and their existence alone makes them worth contemplation?

A rare, perhaps exclusive “beautiful image” in THE GOLDEN GLOVE, from Fritz Honka’s absurd fantasies.

You may detect that I have attempted to have this frustrating conversation with many people, strangers, enemies, and friends I love and respect. I find that for some, it is simply too hard to divorce themselves from the pleasure principle. I don't say this to demean them; some hold the philosophy that art be reserved for beauty, and others have a more literary feeling that it's ok to show characters in grim circumstances, as long as the ultimate goal is to uplift the human spirit. Even I draw the line somewhere; I appreciate the punk rebellion of Troma movies as a cultural force, but I do not enjoy watching them, because I dislike what I perceive as contempt for the audience and the aestheticization of laziness--making something shitty more or less on purpose. A step or three up from that, you land in Todd Solondz territory, where you find materially gorgeous movies whose explicit statement is that our collective reverence for a quality called "humanity" is based on nothing. I like some of those movies, and sometimes I even like them when I don't like them, because I'm entranced by Solondz's technical proficiency...and maybe, deep down, I'm not completely convinced about "humanity", either. However, I don't fight very hard in arguments about him; I understand the objections. Still, I've been surprised by peers who I think of as bright and tasteful, who absolutely hated movies I thought were unassailable, like OLDBOY and WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT KEVIN. In both cases, the ultimate objection was that they accuse humans of being pretentious and self-deceptive, aspiring to heroism or bemoaning their victimhood while wallowing in their own cowardice and perversity. Ok, I get it...but, not really. Why isn't it ever wholly acceptable to discuss, honestly, what we do not like about ourselves?

The beguiling thing about THE GOLDEN GLOVE is that, although it is instantly horrifying, is it also an impeccable production. The director can't help showing you crime scene photos during the ending credits, and I can't really blame him, when his crew worked so hard to bring us a vision of Fritz Honka's world that approaches virtual reality. But it isn't just slavishly realistic; it is vivid, immersive, an experience of total sensory overload. Not a square inch of this movie has been left to chance, and the product of all this graceful control is totally spellbinding. I started to think to myself that, when you've achieved this level of artifice, what really differentiates a movie like THE GOLDEN GLOVE from something like THE RED SHOES? I mean, aside from their obvious narrative differences. Both films plunge the viewer into a world that is complete beyond imagination, crafted with a rigor and sincerity that is rarely paralleled. And, I will dare to say, both films penetrate to the depths of the human soul. What Fatih Akin finds there is not the same as what Powell and Pressburger found, of course, but I don't think that makes it any less real. Akin's film is adapted from a novel by Heinz Strunk, and apparently, some critics have accused Akin of leaving behind the depth and nuance of the book, to focus instead on all that is gruesome about it. This may be true, on some level; I wouldn't know. For now, I can only insist that on watching THE GOLDEN GLOVE, for all its grotesquerie, I still got the message.

#blogtober #2020 #the golden glove #fatih akın #heinz stronk #jonas dassler #margarete tiesel #difficult cinema #horror #slasher #serial killer #period piece #adaptation #historical #biopic #fritz honka #i may have been watching a lot of powell and pressburger movies recently #sorry...

[bigskydreaming]

Say, what's your thoughts on Dick's Harem of Morally Ambiguous Older Men (TM)?

Not a fan. Tbh, I just hate the trend of ‘surround Dick with uneven power dynamics and never ever let him interact with someone on an even playing field, and requiring every relationship in his life to be heavily loaded with advantages the other holds over him, or obligations he feels towards them.’

But even more than that, I hate the fact that said harem exists not because of canon, but because of fandom’s absolute INSISTENCE that Dick’s ‘suitors’ all be predatory and so much his better in terms of fighting, experience, strategy, that they’re usually written as more toying with him as much as they are....engaging in an actual relationship. Because, idk, that makes the relationships ‘dangerous’ and that’s sexy? Meh.

But the reason why that bothers me so much in particular, is because like.......the vast fields of difference in skill and expertise that we so commonly see in S/ladin fics and the like.....

LITERALLY DON’T EXIST IN CANON.

This dynamic where Slade is wholly Dick’s superior who has so much to teach him if only he would deign to learn from him.....like, the ONLY place that actually exists is the one Teen Titans cartoon from like twenty years ago, and its fine if people want to go with that for whatever reason, but when everything else about the fic screams “this is very much a comic-based story except for that one element”....that’s when it gets frustrating. 

Because you can do what you want of course, but I’m always gonna wonder WHY it was deemed so necessary, that Dick always be at a sizable disadvantage to Slade instead of an enemy he respects as being equal in threat to the threat he poses himself.

Because as I’ve said many times....Slade does NOT consider Dick a relative novice, still years away from being an actual threat to him in combat or capable of interfering with his plans.

NO, NO, NO, NO, NO.

The entire REASON Slade started out as a Titans villain, a nemesis for the whole team, and eventually just became Nightwing’s enemy and occasional ally, but with all of Slade’s attention usually focused on him and ignoring the other Titans entirely most of the time....

Is because Slade views Dick as being personally responsible for the times the Titans defeated him or foiled his plans. He chalks it entirely up to Dick’s strategic mind and leadership abilities, as well as his effectiveness in combat when the two of them engage hand to hand.

Slade focuses on Dick not because he thinks he has so much to teach him or Dick still has so much to learn or ‘could truly be a threat someday’.....but rather, because Slade ALREADY VIEWS DICK AS THAT THREAT AND HAS FOR YEARS.

He’s compelling and frustrating to Slade in equal measure because of all the Titans, Dick is the one Slade views as an actual threat, the one he has to either get out of the picture or else get on board with him if he wants to proceed with his agenda of the moment without it being thwarted by someone aka Dick Grayson.

Like yeah, Slade’s decades older than Dick with the experiences to match that, but the Titans and Dick himself have always defeated him or driven him off ON THEIR OWN, without having to call in ‘the adults’ to back them up or be the cavalry or whatever......so how do you figure they can manage that, if their leader and strategist and the one most directly/immediately targeted by Slade each encounter.....is like.....at the same time, significantly lesser than Slade in skill, expertise and ingenuity?

IT DOESN’T WORK, LOL.

What, like Slade just ���lets them win’ all the time out of the goodness of his heart? This is the same guy who nuked Dick’s whole city just to spite him personally!

But anyway, my point is, using Slade as my primary example here though it applies in some form or another to all of the members of the Harem of Morally Ambiguous Older Men.......

Dick doesn’t need to ‘level up’ ten or twenty years into the future before he’s finally on Slade’s level. Slade doesn’t view him like a college recruiter scouting for talent and going ‘hmm, that one could have potential after putting a certain amount of work into getting him to a higher level.’

Slade ALREADY views Dick as his primary threat and personal antagonist, and that’s 100% the reason why he focuses on just Dick off on his own doing the solo hero thing just as often (if not more) than he takes on the whole Titans. Because for all the Titans’ vast powers, Slade has a way to beat each of them. He’s studied them, he knows their strengths and weaknesses, how being dependent on a superpower rather than acquiring a broad arsenal of skillsets can make them particularly vulnerable if their power is countered or negated in some way.

Dick is the wildcard. Always has been. Right back to their very first encounter in the Judas Contract, where Slade decided the fact that Dick alone had escaped being captured was a negligible problem, because he figured Dick presented the least threat out of all of them. And was proven very definitively wrong, lol.

Because Dick’s ultimate strength is in his adaptability. In how his life has shaped him to be a fucking paramount grandmaster of thinking on the fly, reacting to changes in his situation, environment, and anything else that disrupts his own plans, and requires he adjust to a new status quo and make new plans based on that.

Dick has been doing this to EXTREME degrees since before he was even ten years old, and he is fucking GOOD at it by now.

And the ultimate threat to a meticulous planner and strategist like Slade.....is always going to be a genius strategist whose specific strength lies in thinking on his feet. Someone capable of upending the whole chess board and rendering all pre-planned moves irrelevant, and then already being ten steps into a new plan before his opponent has wrapped their mind around the fact that most of the preparation that went into this encounter is useless and irrelevant now. 

A lesson Dick taught Slade in their very first encounter, in the Judas Contract, when he was the only Titan who slipped free of being captured by Slade....and when Slade made the mistake of thinking this was no big deal, as he viewed Dick as posing the least threat, especially on his own without the rest of his team.

And its  a lesson Slade has never forgotten. 

And see what I mean, just from my phrasing there? How often in S/ladin fics is it framed as though there’s even the CHANCE of Dick having anything to teach Slade instead of just being taught? Or even just surprised and having his ego checked by the fact that this decades younger hero has just defeated or outwitted him AGAIN?

They don’t do that, in my experience. Because they’re written to DELIBERATELY be imbalanced, like the uneven playing field is basically the POINT of the relationship, given that......the authors have to reshape Slade from the archnemesis of equivalent standing to Dick, into this vastly more skilled and experienced figure who Dick has no prayer of defeating on his own, unless Slade like, decides to stop toying with him on his own, or Dick’s saved by the intervention of family and/or teammates.

And to me, that defeats the entire point of Dick Grayson. The guy who saves himself time and time again, the survivor who doesn’t NEED anyone to save him or for those with more power than him to take pity on him and stop rubbing it in his face while not changing the power dynamic in the slightest.

I mean, that’s LITERALLY the basis of my being so invested in his character, lol, so even though I’m not a fan of sizable age gaps in romantic relationships in general, in this case, SPECIFICALLY - there was never a chance in hell that any of those relationships were ever going to interest me.

Especially since, as I said with Slade.....the entire actual dynamic Dick has with the other character has to be altered specifically so that Dick is in a more vulnerable position than they occupy, in any relationship they form.

Sorry not sorry, but I will never understand why a fandom that talks such a good game about Dick’s status as a survivor, seems at the same time to be constantly fixated on finding new ways to stack the deck against him....all while continually eroding his ability to fend for himself - thus REDUCING him from a self-saving survivor who picks himself up and dusts himself off each time he’s knocked down, to a victim who is measurably less powerful/skilled/capable than the threat he faces, and thus doomed to fail if he’s on his own, meaning he inevitably needs to be saved by others.

[synthient]

The Key to Understanding Deltarune: The Halloween Hack

So we’re currently in the middle of a 4000 year content hiatus

Which is unfortunate, because ever since the big iconic Halloween-day surprise demo drop, my brain has been rattling a baseball bat against the inside of my skull and chanting “CONTENT, CONTENT, CONTENT”

Undertale was like candy for the thematic analysis side of my brain. I still wake up in a cold sweat some nights going “fun value......he put a quantitative value on fun.....numbers going up.....”

I am desperate to know what kind of themes Deltarune is going to tackle. Can you effectively predict that from one (1) 3 hour demo? No. Does my brain care? No.

Which is what lead me to the wonderful world of intertextuality, or examining how a media text is shaped by other media texts

It started out with a kiss, how did it end up like this with me doing a playthrough of EarthBound, the video game that Toby has cited as his biggest inspiration for Undertale

That was fun & interesting (the “throwing away an emotionally engaging experience to grimly make Numbers Go Up” thing feels a lot closer to home after trying and failing to get the sword of kings), but it didn’t provide much insight into Deltarune, specifically. It wasn’t enough. I needed more. I was willing to dig into literally any intertext (except Homestuck, which no force on this earth can compel me to read :) )

anyway thats how I ended up playing Toby Fox’s high school fangame

And somehow (sorry Toby) I walked out of there with an unironic theory (a game theory....if you will....): Deltarune is Toby’s adult reexamination of the Halloween Hack.

What is the Halloween Hack?

You know that thing where, like, people take the engine of a Pokemon game and edit it so there’s a new region and a bunch of new fakemon, and also There’s Swears Now

In 2008, Toby Fox entered a contest on an EarthBound fansite for the best Halloween-themed EarthBound hack

In one sense, reducing the Halloween Hack to a “bad romhack with swears” is a little bit of a disservice. There are some glimmers in there of a really affecting, thought-provoking game, and you can see some of the early blueprints of what would later become Undertale (“do video game ‘monsters’ really deserve to die” is a major theme, and the character of Dr. Andonuts was effectively split up into Alpyhs, Asgore, and Sans)

But it’s also. very much a fangame made by a 16-year-old.

You can read a basic summary of the Hack here. High school-age Toby wrote two pretty extensive analyses of his thought process behind the game. I’ll be referring back to them a lot, and I’d highly suggest giving them a read--Toby’s been so famously resistant to making any Word of God statements about Undertale that it’s kind of fascinating to see him being so candid

an extremely long and rambling examination of How This All Relates To Deltarune

The Halloween Hack opens in the town of Halloween Twoson. Twoson is one of the cites in EarthBound, and here it’s been painted orange. and there’s pumpkins now

See, high school Toby had...a bit of a chip on his shoulder. In the Making Of notes, he explains that he was frustrated that “most people generally thought I was just ‘another funny guy’”. So he designed the opening of the game to seem unoriginally close to the original EarthBound--like “a regular, funny, lazy hack”--to lull players into a false sense of security before the horror elements set in.

Two interesting things there:

“Lazily, unoriginally close to the source game” sounds an awful lot like the Dark World segment of Deltarune

Halloween Twoson looks very visually similar to Hometown

Toby’s description of Twoson also sounds pretty Hometown-esque:

The main impressions of Twoson that I wanted to give the player were: It's funny. It's a nice fall day outside. The person hacking this game is ridiculously lazy. It's a nice place to live. If you look at it a little closely, it's kind of claustrophobic.  

And when does the horror kick in? When the player descends into the underground tunnels beneath the city.

The “horror” in the Halloween Hack is, however, Pretty Not Good.

There’s a whole lot of the flavor text narrator (put a pin in that one) insisting “this is so scary. you’re so scared. your hands shake and your head throbs because you’re so scared.” There’s also a thing where the battle text keeps going “the shambling zombie BITES your HEAD OFF!!! (you lose 15 hp).”

I think the True Lab sequence in Undertale is a decent demonstration that Toby’s come a long way since then (and that Honey We’ve Got A Storm Coming :’) ). But you know what the Hack’s style of horror reminds me of?

My first thought when I beat the demo and saw this stinger was “this looks like an intentionally shitty creepypasta.” Now I wonder if it’s lowkey adult Toby poking a little fun at teenage Toby

The Halloween Hack is a game about railroading. It’s Spec Ops The Line before there was Spec Ops The Line.

According to Toby:

The main theme of this game is the lack of choice. There is really no choice in this game. From the moment you start to the moment you finish, you're destined to kill Dr. Andonuts. There are two endings, but they both eventually end up the same way. It's all a big joke on the player.

You know why there isn't a choice there? Because you already chose to make Varik go into the door. You already chose to go forward. The only real choice, as Varik realizes at the end of the game, is to stop or keep going. By "stop" he means "turn off the game," and that's all you can do. Anything you play is your own fault for playing, and that's the only real choice you can make.

Interesting? Yeah. A little obnoxious? Also yeah.

That’s one of the criticisms people had of Spec Ops. "The atrocities we commit when we feel like we don’t have a choice” is an intriguing theme, but “~the only way to win is not to play~ [the game I worked hard on for the express purpose of people playing it]” isn’t a very satisfying conclusion.

Undertale, in direct contrast to the Hack, is all about choice. It earns the right to guilt you for the No Mercy Run by giving you every opportunity not to go through with it.

But even Undertale plays a little with the concept of railroading--you can’t stay with Toriel; you can’t spare Asgore in any of the neutral runs; you can’t save Asriel.

Now Deltarune seems to be returning full-on to the Hack’s “your choices don’t matter” premise. But it’s going to need to find something more insightful and satisfying to say about it.

Which makes me really curious about this:

If the Hack has a secondary theme besides railroading/lack of choice, it’s The Soul-Crushing Impact Of Internalized Homophobia.

The tragic antagonist, Dr. Andonuts, destroys his own life trying to repress his gay desire. He retreats into a dream world made of his neuroses and trauma, and he’s inevitably Otherized and murdered by the player. He’s something of a dark version of Alphys, who “disappears” into her lab without ever meeting and getting support from Frisk, Papyrus, and Undyne.

Undertale takes an opposite approach to its lgbt themes--the Underground is a utopia where homophobia and transphobia don’t exist. Everyone respects Frisk’s and Chara’s pronouns. Alphys finds solace and healing in her relationship with Undyne.

It’s a heartwarming growth from the despair in the Halloween Hack. And it’s a vision that’s been deeply meaningful to a lot of people. But that doesn’t mean that there’s no value in exploring issues of homophobia. 16-year-old Toby tried to do that, but...wasn’t exactly at a point where he was equipped to handle it with a ton of sensitivity and nuance.

(There’s. There’s a boss battle where you fight the physical manifestation of Andonuts’ gay repression. It’s a crotch. You fight a crotch.)

Some of the hints in the Deltarune demo, however--the Toriel Has Become Catholic thing; the fact that Alphys and Undyne haven’t met and Mettaton hasn’t been able to transition; the potential trans implications of choosing a name only to have it discarded for an assigned one (“you can’t choose who you are in this world”)--make me suspect that’s one of the themes that Toby will try to revisit from an adult perspective.

The Hack is interested in the idea of the flavor text narrator as a distinct, intelligent entity, whose thoughts and goals don’t always align with those of the player character or the player. 

The Hack’s narrator makes a habit of dictating “your” emotions to you (you’re scared; you can sense ‘the monster’ and you want to kill it; etc). The narration starts to seem more and more unreliable, until, as Toby put it, “The narrator starts talking to you personally...rambling about incoherent things.”

At the game’s turning point, you’re given a yes/no choice to kill Dr. Andonuts. Choose yes, and the narrator (mockingly?) calls you a good person, describes the murder you commit, and then narrates what appears to be your (or their? or Varik’s?) psychological breakdown. Choose no, and the narrator tells you that’s not a real choice and redirects you back to the yes/no box. If you press the b-button to try and opt out of the choice (the game’s unofficial subtitle is “Press the B-Button Stupid,” and doing so allows you to follow Andonuts into his dream world), the narrator starts to panic, although the game ultimately ends the same way.

Not to NarraChara Real, but NarraChara Real 

The Hack is also interested in the idea of the player character as a possibly-unwilling puppet controlled by the player (who in turn is controlled by the railroading/their need to beat the game).

According to Toby:  

 As you approach someone you've never met that you're labeling as a monster, your body pushes you forward to kill him. What's funny is that it's not even uncontrolled, it's really just the force of the player's controller pushing that little bounty hunter into murdering Andonuts. You might not realize it, but Varik is almost dead, and yet he can't stop moving because you keep pushing those buttons. 

The Halloween Hack is, fundamentally, a nostalgic meditation on an existing game.

It’s a little obvious to say, but the Hack isn’t a standalone game. It’s a hack of EarthBound.

Toby writes:

EarthBound dominated my childhood, shaped my preteen years, and played a large role in molding me into the offbeat pseudohippie I am today. It gave me a sense of humor. It helped me learn how to read. Its lessons served as a basis for my sense of justice and courage.

But at age 16, Toby’s feeling about the game that had shaped him were a little mixed. He describes “the staleness of a fifteen-year-old video game” as one of his motivations for making the Hack.

In Deltarune, he (kind of hilariously) has Alphys parrot his teen-self’s “staleness” line:

(I could write a whole meta just on the Mew Mew Kissy Cutie vs Mew Mew Kissy Cutie 2 thing)

Still, Toby’s nostalgia for EarthBound is essential to how the Hack operates. Earlier, I said there were glimmers of an thoughtful, affecting game buried in the “bad romhack with swears.” The most genuinely moving moment in the Hack, in my opinion, is the Onett sequence. 

You wander though a faded, dream world version of Onett--the hometown from EarthBound--while a slowed down arrangement of the Onett music plays. Snatches of forgotten conversations appear on road signs. Various monsters from EarthBound follow slowly behind you, but don’t attack. The only battles are against creatures called “Remember Me?”

The EarthBound characters appear to recognize “Varik” as Ness, EarthBound’s protagonist--or are they recognizing you, the player, as the same person who played EarthBound once upon a time?

The one problem, of course, is that not everyone has played EarthBound. It’s a relatively niche game. The sense of remembrance and regret and loss in the Onett sequence is universal, but being shaped as a person by the specific video game EarthBound isn’t a universal experience.

But in the years since the Hack, Toby has created something with a wider reach than EarthBound. Something that can evoke that sense of memory and nostalgia in players. A familiar game that he can take apart, rearrange, and examine in an entirely different light.

He made Undertale.

And now he’s rearranging the pieces into Deltarune.

#deltarune #undertale #o and to clarify: i don't think the flavor text thing means that chara's evil #in fact i think deltarune's going to deconstruct that very reading of undertale #which is maybe a whole nother (hopefully much shorter) meta

[theorynexus]

68 will be my second post, this morning. I wonder if it will start section 8 of the Meat Epilogue.

Oh darn it. I forgot to make a Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy/Meaning of Life reference on Meat 42. At least we’re back to a 43, and things might therefore be luckier. Maybe.    (I am very silly when it comes to superstitions regarding numbers, sometimes, even though I don’t really believe them.)

MY TIMING SENSES WERE TINGLING!!!

Hmm. Well, strategy meetings and investigations are important.  (Also:  I am again reminded of the dreadful likelihood that Terezi went with Dirk, which continues to be a disturbing thought.)

Hmm.  For some reason, I have the impression that he does indeed have a vague idea where he’s going, but he may not actually know where/how to find it, yet. That seems pretty likely.  Thus, Roxy would be partially correct. (On that note: Interesting that Jake didn’t actually come with. I thought for sure he’d have snuck aboard at the last moment, or something, as a stow-away.)

Eh, I’d say it goes a little beyond “prove a point,” but it’s also probably incomprehensible to you, right now.  I guess we’ll all have to be patient before we can more thoroughly sort through his insanity in that regard. As for Jane...   I don’t know. It might be more trouble than it’s worth to contact her.  The fact that Dirk has her as a seemingly important part of his plans suggest that it could essentially be springing a trap on yourself. I wonder how she’ll react to finding out that Dirk’s been mind controlling people and that that probably invalidates the actual results of her election, in the sense that it dramatically undermined the democratic process. (That is a really complicated issue that is somewhat entangled with real life politics, though, so I don’t want to get into a deep and proper discussion of what determines electoral legitimacy on a philosophical or political level here.)

It is a very interesting choice on Alt!Calliope’s call to focus on incestuous questions and Dave being awkward, rather than to follow tat important call.

Dirk is so twisted at this point that I’d almost not put it past him, but at the same time, why, Dave, do you have to assume that the motivations are sexual in nature?   (I mean, honestly, it could be the fact that Dirk was trying to force him to have sex with Karkat that gave him the impression that Dirk was [and he is, but maybe not to that extent] way too carnally-minded and motivated.)   Honestly, Dirk’s head is way too concerned with philosophical matters, and if anything he’s probably going to make a clone of himself to have sex with or something stupid like that, if he REALLY has to engage in some sort of tension-releasing copulation that isn’t masturbatory in the way that having sex with someone you’ve brainwashed and twisted into being your personal object of amusement is.   Therefore, I juuust can’t quite see Dirk having sex with Rose/her new robot body.  (Gosh, I hate that I feel compelled to address this.)

I honestly quite agree with Karkat, and now understand a little bit more about why our focus strayed where it did--- though it would have been nice to receive some sort of narration to indicate that.  And yes, it’s sad that Kanaya’s being put on hold, I guess. A little bit.  (Not really. I understand politicians in places of power can get quite busy, and it may not even be Jane’s decision to have her on hold... though if it is, I can most certainly affirm that that is quite rude.)

I mean... to be fair, Karkat, it’s rooted in biology.  Humans not having a Mother Grub means that the don’t have a natural means to reduce the genetic load that would be caused by related populations interbreeding and therefore dangerously duplicating genes.  Thus, it is not actually arbitrary, which I am sure you would know if you had spent a bit more time acting like the “geneticist” your troll handle suggests you happen to be (yes, I know it means to refer to his ectobiological frog wrangling/recombination; even so, the point stands).

I take it that Karkat’s dejection about the election has kept him a bit preoccupied and out of the loop, lately.

This is horrible (Karkat’s part, I mean).    Roxy’s new new outfit sounds like something I would be very interested in seeing fan art of.   A pink-looking slightly more effeminate Dave look sounds aesthetically striking (and I’m not even a fan of pink). But yeah, good on her for not giving up in frustration for people confusing them, I guess.   ***shrug***

And we return to this awkward and slightly funny subject. Considering it was not resolved last time, I guess that’s reasonable.   (Some day, maybe I’ll write a post analyzing Roxy’s trans-iness and/or how they/he seems to have been affected by those around he/them in his/their path to figuring it all out.  This sort of issue is always a bit difficult to properly tackle without raising some people’s hackles, so to speak, though, so I am not sure if I’ll end up doing it.  Regardless, it’ll have to be quite some time in the future, should I do so, after I’m at least done reading both sides of the epilogues. I’m sure Roxy’s interactions with John will have some important light to shed on the matter.)   It’s sortof nice that Dave and Roxy can joke about this without it becoming too uncomfortable (apparently) for either of them.

...   Is revealing this something they’ve discussed before now?  I mean, doing this in front of friends and family could be sortof... bad for things between them, if Karkat’s still trying to figure out how he feels about it and whether he wants to press on vs throttle back?  I mean, just calling each other boyfriends is not something either of them were comfortable with, and just because Dave is now doesn’t mean Karkat necessarily will be.   I dunno.  I feel conflicted on the matter, despite the fact that it is on the border of being cute.

Yeah, see, this is what I meant:  Awwwwkwaaard.

Yeah, it definitely did serve as a good distraction, at the very least. ~~~ Jane either not knowing or not being willing to tell (we’ll have to wait for a perspective shift to her to be certain) is no surprise.

Gah. FINALLY.  If Roxy weren’t such a Void-y ball of fun, everyone would have known this for some time, by now.  (Also: This is another reason why I am quite certain that Dirk was responsible for at least the way that John died. He didn’t want him to be a threat to him.  [I wonder, though: will Candy John potentially pose that problem, in the future, given the fact that he will likely be able to traverse the two different timelines, should he become aware of them?   Heck, this could be the reason why one had to die in the first place. Or one reason.])

This is what you get when you    A S S   U   M E. Also, Terezi would really be useful due to her Seer powers in particular.

Well. That is a useful compromise. Good on you for finally figuring something out to bridge the gap between your morals and Dirk’s amorality.  (Also, that presents interesting potential conflict in the future, insofar as there might be a point where Calliope has to decide whether to allow them to take Jade with or not.)

Has little Timmy fallen down a well?   O: <

This is funny because it’s like that one time where Jade was sleeping and Dave couldn’t get in touch with her. That time his weird fursona came up. Tightest butt in the jungle, or some stupid nonsense like that.

Dave is smarter than Dirk would give him credit for, calling him the dumbest of the Stralondes, by the way.

Not only do they need one of his ships, but it is quite reasonable to assume that they might be able to entice him to follow with them to where Dirk is going.  This is a potentially dangerous gambit, like bringing Gamzee along anywhere, but I think it could pay off in the end.  I think that, as I suggested earlier, Jake’s probably going to be the one to end up killing Dirk, in spite of all the underestimation that and horrific invective that had been directed his way.   In all honesty, this would really seem to be the direction that Jake’s been being pushed in all along, considering all the failed opportunities to interject him into a place of importance in the story.  

Considering his level of devotion and love for Dirk, now, he very strongly reminds me of that one old clown story that AH wrote... the one where the clown was never able to pull himself away from the service of his abusive, evil master. I bring that up specifically to suggest that Jake WILL succeed, however.  I believe that, counter to the example that I just cited, and contrary to all of the deterministic forces that Homestuck has seen in play, the power of Hope will be what is necessary to do the impossible.  A Page has a long, pain-filled story arc, but when it finally blossoms into the great behemoth that its seed of potential suggested it was from the very beginning, amazing things can happen. A Page of Hope is perhaps one of the most potent Classpect-endowed figures that Paradox Space could conjure up.  I have come now to see that this turn on Dirk’s part was probably planned from the beginning, as was the fact that Dirk’s abandonment of him was likely meant to be the catalyst for the eventual realization of Jake’s full potential. Obviously, this will not likely happen in the near future, much to our short-term misfortune. Dirk, if you ever see this, know your folly:  Jake English is just the force you would need to break free of the shackles of the reality you live in---   if only you believed in the him that believes in you.   Instead, your Rage will consume you. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love this dramatic comedy.

Honestly... this is great. From a writing stand-point, this is excellent. The decision to have Dirk drag Terezi along brings more significant stakes to things and drama for the future, especially with the fact that we DO know that he can be brought back to life, now, despite Dirk’s statement to the contrary. Despite all of my pathos earlier, the way this story (the story of Homestuck) is ending is actually getting me excited and washing away the scars that came from the darkest hour of the path previous.     I really like the mechanic of Dirk having reality warping powers and Alt!Calliope being able to counter them, but only in close proximity. With the speed of his ship being a factor, especially, this sets up for some really interesting potential action in the further development of the story, as well.                    That Hussie was able to so masterfully navigate these emotional waters and string me along to this point was brilliant too.    In sum:  WOW, GUYS, I’M PUMPED!!! ... But... while this would actually serve as an excellent, fully complete and enticing epilogue in and of itself, the fact remains... there is yet more. Not only in the Postscript, but in Candy.      This throws many spanners into the works, and I honestly don’t know how to feel about all that!     If this weren’t Andrew Hussie we were talking about, I would be incredibly afraid that what is to come would throw everything off and make the eventual follow-up in Homestuck^2 (which I know he’s at least directing, though he’s not quite as involved in the story as he was in Homestuck, apparently?!) potentially quite messy and of a much lesser quality than I might expect. Given this IS Andrew Hussie we are talking about, however, I actually am quite confident that eventually, it will work out splendidly, and raise his literary accomplishments to even greater heights. Though... I am filled with a bit of trepidation. That “eventually” will be so far in the future. ***laughs awkwardly*** ... Buuuuutttt there’s still more left, even on this page, so I had better get to that. ...

It is very interesting that she’s been enveloped in that blanket of space so thickly and constantly that she’s come to find it comforting. That said:  How is it possible for her to withdraw and still let narration continue, supposedly without source or accountability, as she states?   Is this meant to suggest that the passive forces of Paradox Space will naturally fill in the gap if there is no one manning the ship, so to speak?   This feels a bit unlikely, considering the lack of content for years of the characters’ lives, and Dirk’s suggestion that “God had abandoned them,” or however the heck he put it. This is all veerrry curious, indeed.  (I do like her commentary on narration. A lot.) ~~~ Woooooo!!!~    It’s really nice to finish this at--   Dangit, time, why do you have to keep ticking into the future?!       Well, even though it’s not 3:14, anymore, it’s still very nice to finish the Meat Epilogue on 02/02/2020.   :’)

#Meat Epilogue #Homestuck Epilogue #Homestuck Spoilers #Homestuck Liveblog #To Be Continued #Homestuck^2 #Author Intent #Planning #Andrew Hussie #Excellent Writing #Skill #Wonder #Hope Aspect #Jake English #Dirk Strider #Alt!Calliope #Alternate Calliope #Page of Hope #Destiny #Choice #References #Themes #02/02/2020

[princeasimdiya12]

What's your opinion on the tetocu villians? Specifically the ones that appeared in that one moment in the season 3 intro

Interesting question and I thank you for asking me this.

The villains in general are hit or miss for me. Some of them have really cool designs and interesting personalities while others come off as bland, forgettable or not used to their full potential. It also doesn’t help that most of them are practically forgotten once they’re defeated. If they were more developed like the villains on Miraculous Ladybug, then you’d be seeing alot more entries in the Villains section for TvTropes. But since you asked me for the ones that appeared in the season 3 intro, I’ll gladly explain my thoughts for each of them. 

(Answering each of them in Clock-wise format)

TP Mummy: I’m pretty indifferent towards this monster. While her design is simple, I do like how she uses her TP powers. Plus the design works since she is essentially a toilet paper mummy. But I feel that her motivation to take over the world by stealing all the toilet paper feels OOC considering that Yewh never really had any ego maniacal personality traits. 

DJ Drowsy Drawers: I personally love this villain. Her design is really creative and stands out since she’s essentially a DJ themed cyborg. Her sleep powers are also deadly along with her ability to shoot playing records. The writers were aware of her music theme and they went all out with her abilities. Her motivation was a little weak but it’s more solid since Herd’s prime goal was to make the dances be as boring and lifeless as possible. So I like her.

Socktopus: I find him pretty cool. It especially helps that he’s voiced by the John DiMaggio and I’m a huge fan of his work. You can really tell that he was giving it his standard tone of voice when voicing the Sock and I enjoyed that. His size and tentacle attack make him really effective as a monster. The only downsides would be his motivations and his take over the world plot. I feel it would have been beneficial to have him showing us how he can control other socks that aren’t his own so his threat can be taken more seriously. And while he does get character depth by saying that he only wanted dirty socks to be more loved, it feels shoehorned since he never showed any display of this during his screentime. If this was shown more then he could have been a more compelling monster. Apart from these factors, I still like him.

Tubbadump: I don’t like him as much. He comes off as a fairly generic monster that doesn’t leave a strong impression after his performance. And apart from his Godfather-esque personalty, he doesn’t really shine as much. Not to mention that he doesn’t have any creative or unique powers apart from moving trash. 

Queen of the Zombees: I actually liked Ribble as the Zombee Queen. Mainly because her design was cool and how effective she was as a ruler. My only gripes with her is that we don’t really see Ribble’s personality shine through as the Queen. It’s like you could swap her out with any faculty member, zap them a few times with the bee invention, have them go mad with power and nothing would change. So it feels like a loss that Ribble doesn’t show her personality when she’s akumatized her. It also doesn’t help that she’s really lacking in the personality department compared to her colleagues.

Flabby Flabulous: He’s okay for me. Not exactly a personal fave but he works for me as a starter villain in the show. Not only does he work as an introduction to the zaniness of the CU cartoon but he represents the wild and inappropriate imagination two children can come up with when it comes to making characters. A guy with a giant butt is definitely something a child would think of for kicks and giggles. 

The Splotch: Another favorite of mine. Along with being an Expy of Venom, he has a very charming and friendly personality when he interacted with the boys. He has a nice gentleman vibe while also being completely dangerous with his ability to control all the robes in Piqua. I also love that his character is meant to be a shadow counterpart to Captain Underpants and their fight was super entertaining. Even if perfectly symmetrical violence did solve anything, it was still fun to watch. I can only hope that he’ll find a way to escape his imprisonment and make an appearance in the next season(s). I’m still holding out hope that next season will focus on aliens!

Bigfoot: I don’t understand why he’s here in this shot. He’s not a villain and he’s actually a Wonderful Samaritan.

Avocadwoe: I have mixed feelings for this Akuma. On one hand, I love how effectively dangerous he was in attacking the heroes and reducing Piqua to ruins. I especially like how so much destruction and rampage came from the (formerly) timid and soft spoken Fyde. It really symbolizes how even the most gentle or harmless of people can unleash so much rage and fury. On the other hand, I kinda don’t like how this was what Fyde’s monster form turned out to be. When you compare him to the other faculty members and their villain/monster forms (Ribble as Wedgie Woman, Meaner as Flabby, Anthrope as Clogneta) it feels underwhelming that Fyde ended up with a plant seed theme. It doesn’t come off as very flashy or cool, especially if that may be his only akumatization. So again, Avocadwoe is a mixed bag for me.

Ratrick the Poopacabra: He’s not a personal fave but I do have a soft spot for him. Mainly because of how much character depth Ratrick has for feeling depressed along with frustration over not having his message heard. It only makes sense that he would lash out in anger and despair. And while I’m glad that he found comfort with Chupacabra, it is a little sad that we don’t know what became of him after his debut.

Altitooth: I don’t really like this youma either. Just like with Tubbadump, he comes off as rather forgettable since he was just a random guy who ended up becoming a monster and started terrorizing everyone. While that’s pretty much the norm for most of these villains, he doesn’t have an impressionable personality or do anything significant. He’s generic to me. But I do like his ice powers.

Barfalisk: This one is okay with me. Mainly because of its hyper aggressive personality and how it’s able to make people barf rainbows. But just like with Altitooth, it doesn’t leave a very memorable performance as a youma. Also I’m very curious to know how there are real barfalisks in the CU universe despite being created by the boys and how Erica was able to find one with no explanation. Really hoping they mention this in season 4.

Fur-cules: Another dud for me. I get that he’s a guardian of a secret fountain but his overall design, powers and personality aren’t that memorable or worthwhile. Plus he turns out to be a pretty good guy after his fight with CU and is eventually forgotten once the group leaves Ecuador.

Teachertron: In theory, the robot would make for a pretty great villain or even a tool for the Melvins. He has a sleek design and would be a formidable threat. But in the end, he’s not even a genuine villain or an Akuma. It’s just as an obstacle created for the Wonder Nerd duo to defeat the heroes. Plus it’s not like Melvin ever brings him back to terrorize the boys or CU. Though how Grace Wain forbade him from using these types of inventions, it’s fairly understandable.

Messica Gorgon: I actually like this Akuma. Messica works as a perfect opposite for the well kept and carefree Jessica as the Vimpire is a total mess and lashes out at everyone so they can be as miserable as her. Draining her victims of their joy and turning them into moping messes is a pretty creative power. Though it would be nice if she had another power to support her. Like maybe making huge hairballs of garbage to throw at CU and trap him. Apart from that, I really like her.

And those are my thoughts on each of these villains. i had fun writing my thoughts for each of them so I appreciate that you asked me this. And if you have any thoughts on my thoughts, you’re always welcome to reblog this.

#captain underpants #the epic tales of captain underpants #netflix #george beard #harold hutchins #mr. krupp #erica wang #melvin sneedly #mr. meaner #ms. ribble #mr. fyde #the splotch #jessica gordon

[depraved-maniac]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse Rating: Explicit Relationships: Michael Langdon/Reader Summary

Michael Langdon has arrived at the Outpost and you find yourself vying to secure your place at The Sanctuary. You're willing to do almost anything to secure your future. Almost. Though the world has changed, you have not. You're dedicated to your beliefs and refuse to compromise your innocence to gain favor, which is exactly why Michael wants you. As the last virgin on Earth, you've been chosen to serve a purpose that threatens everything you stand for.

You're a good girl. You really are. The problem is that Michael Langdon makes you want to do very bad things.

You don’t trust the visitor.

You don’t respect the way he shatters the Outpost’s monotony with the promise of sanctuary for some, and damnation for the unworthy. You don’t like the pressure of meeting his unknowable expectations or the way those expectations can be felt in his piercing, leonine gaze.

You don’t like that he sees you. You’d grown accustomed to blending in with the background over the long months. You diligently perform the tasks expected of your rank as a Gray. You do not step out of line, you do not draw a curious eye. Your life has been reduced to being a servile shadow to those more privileged. Your pride is wounded, but it is a small price to pay for the promise of safety. That’s how the game is played.

Until now.

Michael Langdon was here to revise the rules and turn the current order on its purple and gray head, and there was nothing you could do but bite your nails and hope you said just the right thing to please him.

Please him, you scoff. You glare at your reflection, annoyed with how normal subservience has become to you. You hold your gaze in search of the confident spark of a young woman who’d once been proudly self-assured, determined and outspoken. A woman that was forced to take a step back under the new world order. A woman tucked away, indefinitely sleeping.

For me, you amend. For The Sanctuary. You untangle your hair from its ridiculous topknot and comb through the tangles with your fingers. You groan as you massage the soreness from your scalp.

You begin to strip off your gray garb. The shapeless dress and dirty apron pool at your feet. Chill sweeps over your skin, and you are quick to pull on the dress you save for special occasions. The white cotton is soft against your skin. The waist is fitted, the hem falling just below your knees. You admire the sweep of the neckline below your collarbone and take a moment to unreservedly appreciate your reflection. It’s been so long since you felt pretty.

You brush your wavy hair behind your shoulders and bite the red back into your lips. Your cheeks are already mottled with your nerves.

You don’t trust the visitor, and he probably doesn’t trust you. The interview is your one opportunity to give him reason to. Give him something if it means ascertaining your safety. You’d do anything to ensure your future. Well...almost.

Your eyes fall to the peek of cleavage exposed by the loose garment and you self-consciously pull it back up. With quiet fingers, you adjust the chain of the gold crucifix lying against your clavicle, making sure your modesty is hinted in a way that spares you from having to draw any awkward boundaries.

It’s an interview, not an audition. You inhale deeply, exhale slowly, and try to muster the courage required to leave your room.

Your steps are slow, yet purposeful, as you make your way along the servant’s corridor, down the staircase, past the library, around a corner and down another hall until you find yourself at a bulky, dark wood door. Your hand is trembling as you raise your fist to knock. However, before your knuckles have a chance to rap against the door, it slides open. You hesitate just before stepping inside.

You anticipate him to be standing on the other side of the threshold, waiting with a calculative gaze. What you find is an empty room, lit by a dozen wax candles. A fire crackles in the stone fireplace. Its flickering light makes the shadows in the room contort in a way that is unsettling. The air in here is stuffy as you step further inside. You can feel it cling to your skin, leaving it balmy.

When the doors behind you close, you turn to face them. The voice in your ear is spoken from behind. “You’re late.”

You gasp at the unexpected presence at your shoulder and stumble a few steps away. Your hand is pressed over your heart to keep it still.

Langdon is watching you with patient passivity, leaving you to believe his words were not meant as a reprimand. Regardless, he’s made it clear that he’s keeping track of your missteps. He’s moved the first chess piece. The game has begun, and it’s your move.

“I still got here first,” you counter. Your words are childish. Before you have time to regret your impulse to be argumentative, you notice Langdon’s lip curl. He likes the less docile side of you. Good. You straighten your posture to regain the appearance of composure though the feeling of it seems to have fled the moment you felt him breathe against your ear. “So, how are we going to do this?”

He just barely tilts his head. His strong brows crease and draw a shadow over his eyes that somehow manages to heighten their penetrative intensity. “Do what?”

Now you wish you’d bitten your tongue, because you don’t know how to answer him when he’s looking at you as if he’s read you for the umpteenth time and he’s bored. How can you continue this show of confidence when you no longer have the backbone needed to maintain it? “Aren’t you going to ask me questions?”

“Has someone told you I would?”

You shake your head. “I haven’t spoken to anyone. That would be cheating.”

“Good girl.” He says this with mocking adulation to drive home how unimpressed he is by your virtuousness.

You flush, embarrassed with the way he’s making you feel ashamed for doing the right thing. Heat is in your cheeks and neck, and you curse the way your body betrays how easily he can make you uncomfortable. The telltale reaction only worsens as he steps closer until he’s looming before you. Instinct is screaming for you to flee, but you hold your ground, lift your chin and meet his eyes.

Looking at him is like looking at the sun. His beauty is the sort that demands attention. You find yourself conscious of him, whether you want to be or not. You have to look at him. It feels mandatory that you admire the sharp cut of his jawline, his hooded sapphire gaze, the fullness of his mouth and the fall of his gold hair. He is the morning star that rises to put the glory of the sky to shame. You’re compelled to marvel, though his image leaves you burning.

“The world is no longer a place where your moral integrity will earn you the brownie points to get you where you want. Those were someone else’s rules.” His gaze drops to the pendant of Christ hanging from your neck before returning to you, amused. “Not mine.”

You don’t like the suggestive implication in his tone. You dislike even more how you react to it, a very different sort of heat now tingling across your skin. “What are your rules?”

“That’s the best part: there aren’t any.”

Concern crinkles between your brows as you try to comprehend what he’s saying.

“Anything is fair game. However,” he begins to slowly circle you as he speaks. “If you lie, I will know. If you hedge, I will know. And if you try to trick me, I will know, and this interview will be over, and you will die here painfully.” He pauses at your shoulder, his mouth once more at your ear and his breath hot against your neck. “Are we clear?”

Your heartbeat would give a hummingbird’s wing a run for its money. “Those sound like rules to me.”

You can hear the amusement in the purr of his voice. “Merely preferences. You are allowed to lie to me, you are allowed to avoid my questions and you are allowed to attempt to fool me, just as I, in turn, am allowed to kill you for it.”

“Does that mean I am allowed to kill you?”

“You’re allowed to try.” He returns to his place before you, his long hair casting half his face in shadow. “Do you want to?”

“No. I’ve never wanted to kill anyone.”

“Not even the one responsible for ending the world?”

You don’t understand the significance of what feels like a pointless conversation, but he looks to be waiting for your answer. “Would revenge change anything? Anyway, whoever is responsible for this is probably dead along with everyone else.”

“And if they weren’t?”

You are unable to determine what he’s alluding to. “And if they weren’t, would I want to kill them?” He watches as you consider the question. You move your eyes to the fireplace as you think. Your fingers come up to toy with your necklace as you recall the memories of your family, your friends, your home, and how they were stolen from you forever. A second of reminiscing is all you allow yourself, because you know how much you’re capable of handling before you begin to feel your eyes sting. You already know you miss them, just as you already know this new life is merely a weed compared to the bouquet of possibilities promised by your old one. “Can I give a complicated answer?”

“You can give an honest answer.”

“I don’t think killing them would be my first impulse. I’d need to know why they did it.”

Langdon’s expression remains unreadable. “You would bother to put the harbinger of the Apocalypse on trial?”

“Not because I think there’s any way for them to defend what they did, but…” You hesitate, frustrated to find the right words to express such a complicated sentiment. “I doubt their motivation for ending the world had anything to do with my family or my friends. The people I cared about were victims, but they weren’t targets. For me to feel so vengeful as to kill someone, my anger would have to come from a personal place.” You finally return your eyes to his and have the gall to shrug your shoulder. “And I just can’t be expected to take the Apocalypse personally.”

Langdon laughs. It is neither mocking nor patronizing. The sound echoes around the stone chamber, unexpectedly pleasant and rich. For a sliver of a moment, he is reachable, and you manage to glimpse the boy that exists inside the enigmatic man.

“Such a strong sense of justice,” he says when his laughter calms. “You really are a good girl, aren’t you? Tell me, what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

You shake your head. “I don’t remember.”

“I thought I made it clear there’d be no lying?” He chastises.

It no longer feels like you’re on equal footing. He’s staring down the straight line of his nose at you, the set of his mouth taught. You’re being told off like you’re a child, but this time you suspect that it isn’t a simple spanking you’ll get. No standing in a corner, no hand-written apology. You bite your lip as cold rinses through you. You’re afraid of what’s coming. You’re afraid he’s going to hurt you.

“Get on your knees.”

Your eyes snap to his. There’s ice in your veins. You’re terrified of where this might be going. You frantically search his face for any hint that what he has planned is meant to violate as much as punish. “What? Why?”

“To confess.” His hand grips your shoulder, just firm enough to pressure you down. Understanding that you have the option to either play along or forfeit the game, you lower yourself to your knees before him.

The stone floor is unforgiving below your naked knees and you grimace as your bones grind. You grip your skirt to quell the trembling in your fingers, and glare at his polished shoes. You know why he’s having you take this position. You know it has everything to do with the cross around your neck. He’s mocking you, and you can only hope that’s all he plans to do.

You refuse to let your imagination take you to where this could be headed. You refuse to feed into your fear. “I’ve done some things, but nothing worth mentioning. Nothing stands out.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that,” he says from above. “Not from a girl like you.”

“A girl like me?”

He crouches before you. You flinch when his hand settles beneath your chin and forces your eyes to meet his. Your faces are mere inches apart. He’s so close, you can feel him breathing against your mouth. You expect to be frightened, but it isn’t fear that simmers low in your belly as you stare into eyes that share their color with the same sky you thought you’d seen the last of the day the world came to an end.

“Young, pretty, rich,” his other hand caresses the crucifix at your throat, “devout. You are the recipe for a rebellious stage.”

His hands are gone from you now, but he’s still too close for you to think clearly. You know he’s not asking to hear about that one time you stole candy from the grocery store when you were five, or the time you egged the house of a girl from school because she made fun of your new haircut. The problem is that you don’t have much to confess. You never thought you’d find yourself in a situation where you were repenting for not having more of a wild streak.

“Nothing?” He presses, his gaze searching yours.

You know he’s waiting for some kind of response from you, but you’re not paying attention to what’s being said anymore. He smells like cinder and cinnamon. If you closed your eyes, you could easily imagine being back home with your family, seated around the firepit in the backyard. You loved sitting out with them late into the night, just talking around a warm fire and sipping cinnamon tea. This smell is nostalgic and warm. You want to bury yourself in it.

You snap to the moment you feel the softness of his lapel beneath your fingertips. You freeze when you realize how close you’ve leaned in, your mouth but a hairsbreadth away from his. Your eyes sweep to his to find that he doesn’t look surprised by your actions. There isn’t a trace of the smugness you expect to see from someone who considers you predictable. He’s simply patient as he continues to walk you through this exchange.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, pulling away from him.

“Are you?”

Again, he is waiting for your answer. Challenging you in all the ways that make you uncomfortable. You cannot help but to drop your eyes to his mouth. You don’t know what’s wrong with you, having such thoughts at such an inopportune time, but you can’t stop them. He’s so close and his warmth and smell are all you can focus on. You shake your head, feeling your face flame.

His lip curls as if he’s pleased with himself for being right. When he stands to put space between you, you feel that draw for him dissipate like two weak magnets drawn too far apart. “There is no need to apologize for doing what you want, as long as you are prepared to accept the consequences.”

“I didn’t realize what I was doing,” you explain. It’s important that he knows you would never resort to using your body to get what you want.

“I know,” he assures you smoothly. He comes to stand before you again, and raises his hand back to your face. This time his fingers drag against your cheek and pause at the corner of your lips. His eyes are on them as he speaks. “It’s your nature, given what you are. It would be hypocritical of me to judge you for it.”

Immediately, you take offense. You turn your head away from his hand and glare up at him. “My nature? You mean, as a woman?”

He smiles at your indignation, and crouches before you again. His voice is velvet. “As a virgin.”

Your skin blisters with embarrassment, your heart kickstarting to an impossible speed. “How do you know?”

“Lucky guess,” he purrs, and his fingers snag against your crucifix as he moves his hand over your flying heartbeat.

You understand that you should be against him touching you with such familiarity, but you can’t bring yourself to push him away. With reluctance, you admit that you like the feel of his hands against your skin. Despite what he’s saying, it isn’t because you’re a virgin that you’re responding so strongly to his touch. It’s him. Everything about him is magnetic. He’s impossible to resist, as if he were tailor-made to suit your preferences.

“Are you saving yourself?”

He asks this with no hesitancy. He knows you’ll answer him. It’s this certainty of his that makes answering so easy, despite your shyness. “I am, but I don’t think it matters anymore.” He looks at you to explain. You can feel the dullness of your smile. “I don’t see marriage in my future.”

He offers a small laugh and drops his hand away from your skin. “None of the other survivor’s have caught your eye?”

The suggestion is absurd enough to make you laugh a little. The people you’ve been holed up with these past few months are tolerable, at best. Most of the time, you can’t suffer the sound of their breathing, never mind their constant bickering and whining. “They’re not my type.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

“I’m not begging.”

“No, not yet.” The words are a promise veiled in ambiguity. He takes your hand and pulls you up from the floor. He doesn’t let go as he leads you towards the fireplace where he invites you to take a seat on the brickstone beside him. “What is your type?”

You shake your head, at a loss. “Is this part of the interview?”

“If I am asking, then it is fair to assume that it is.”

“You ask everyone these questions?”

“I ask each of you exactly what I wish to know.”

You’re seated so close to him that your hips are touching. You know this nearness is purposeful on his part, but you’re too captivated by him to put space between you. You try to justify it to your conscience with weak excuses about how long it’s been since you last felt the warmth of another person so directly. You know it’s more than that. You can’t stop thinking about his overly-familiar hands.

“Why do you want to know? Are you running a matchmaking service for The Sanctuary?” It’s a lame attempt at being funny, but you kind of want to make him laugh again. You’re disappointed that it doesn’t work.

“Even if I were, you wouldn’t benefit from it.”

The comment is oddly definitive. You sense that there’s something you’re missing. Something that has everything to do with you and your future. “Why?”

“That’s classified. As for why I want to know this...let’s just say, I’m curious.”

You have to look away from him in order to collect your thoughts. This is only marginally helpful; you can look away, but there is little you can do about the intoxicating way he smells or the press of him against you.

“Let me think,” you request, sifting through your memories for the faces of all the boys you’d once liked and hoping to find some sort of pattern that will satisfy Langdon and put an end to this inane topic. “Well, my ex-boyfriend was tall, brunette, and--”

“What did he do to you?” Langdon interrupts.

You avoid his eyes. “Why do you think he did something to me?”

“Don’t hedge,” he reminds you with softened authority. His fingers return to your chin and he forces your eyes back to his. If you were to just barely lean in, your noses would touch. “Did he try to fuck you?”

The crassness of the word makes you cringe. You swallow past the distaste the memory of your ex-boyfriend has left in your mouth. “Maybe.”

Annoyance fractures his carefully managed indifference. You can feel it in the fingers he has digging into your jaw. “Either commit to answering me, or we end this.”

The memories are near enough for them to still draw anger. You don’t want to think about your ex-boyfriend and all the ways he tried to manipulate you into going too far. “He tried to convince me that I could give him oral and stay a virgin.”

Langdon remains distantly unsurprised. “Did you?”

“No.”

“Good.”

His thumb drags below your lower lip and you resist the urge to taste it. Again, you don’t know what’s come over you. It’s like you’re under a spell. You’re intoxicated, drunk on the smell and heat emanating from him. With every passing minute, you feel the locked grip you have on your restraint loosening.

“Tell me more,” he demands. “What else did he do?”

“He touched me.” You’re so embarrassed that you feel the heat in your face creep into your eyes, glazing them.

Langdon’s fingers are at your neck, tracing the chain of your necklace. He slowly lifts his eyes to yours with the covetous air of an apex predator. His voice is silken. “Did you like it when he touched you?”

You swallow around the lump that is denial in your throat. The good girl in you is desperate to voice it, but the man in front of you will not permit it. Not again.

“You can tell me,” he coaxes gently. “No one can hear you here. Not even God.”

The Lord’s name is profane coming from this silver-tongued angel. It leaves your stomach fluttering. Your voice is barely a whisper. “Sometimes I liked it.”

His barely-there smile is back. He’s pleased with you. “When?”

“When he’d sneak into my room,” you reply, your breath tight.

Langdon’s smile is borderline tender, as if he’s endeared. “You like the idea of getting caught doing something you shouldn’t. A Catholic schoolgirl who will regularly get on her knees for a man,” he purposefully drops his eyes to your pendant, “just not the one who loves her.”

Of everything he’s said so far, you take the most offense to this. “He didn’t love me.”

“Would you have let him fuck you if he did?”

Your gaze hardens. The heat in your cheeks burns for a different reason. “I told you I’m saving myself.”

Langdon’s lionlike gaze is unapologetic. “You seem like you could be convinced.”

You understand why he thinks this. Not once tonight have you slapped his hands away or given him any reason to think you are against it. If you’re still being honest, you aren’t against the touching. In fact, you find yourself hoping for a little more of it. What you’re not wanting is everything it’s leading to. “There’s nothing you can say or do that he didn’t try already.”

“And who says I want to try?” Langdon challenges.

“You can’t keep your hands off me.”

“You don’t want me to.”

Your mouth snaps shut, your rebuttal stoppered because, well, he isn’t wrong. All you can manage is a weak glare, which only makes him smile. He’s caught you red-handed.

He takes your silence as permission to shift closer to you. He’s reasserted his control over the conversation, over you. “Is this how you made your boyfriend suffer? By giving him a sample, but denying him a taste?” His fingertips tickle the back of your arm as he speaks. His touch sends shivers up your spine. “They have a name for girls like you.”

“Prude?” You’re tempted to roll your eyes.

“Tease,” he whispers into your ear. His mouth lingers against the shell, and very slowly, he drags his velveteen lips against it. His hand is resting against your back. “How far did you let him go before you made him stop?”

You close your eyes against the lance of heat targeted between your thighs. It’s been so long since you last felt the feverish craving that was roused by the nearness of a man. His mouth brushing your ear is all your imagination needs before it runs wild with fantasies of him brushing it elsewhere. You imagine that velvety softness dragging warm and slow against your neck, your breasts, your stomach, your thighs, that predatory gaze weighing your reaction as he samples you with his tongue. The burn for him is immediate and overwhelming. You clench a white-knuckled fist against your upper thigh.

“Answer me,” he demands.

“I always made him stop,” you say in a shuddery breath. “I had a rule: when I said Hail Mary, he stopped. It was like my safe word.”

His lip curls in another almost-smile. He’s amused at your choice of safe word. “That doesn’t answer my question. How far did you let him go before you were praying to the Blessed Virgin to stop him?”

“I only let him kiss me.”

“Lie to me one more time. I dare you.”

The threat drags over you with a violence that agitates the heat pricking below your skin. You’re not afraid of punishment, you’re afraid of how viscerally you’re responding to him. You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, but you can still feel it on you. You’re burning beneath it. “Sometimes…I’d get carried away.”

“How far away?” He asks gently. His fingertips trace along the edge of your dress until they reach the hem. He massages the material between his thumb and forefinger as he waits for your answer. The back of his hand is resting against your knee.

“This is embarrassing,” you say, hoping he’s feeling merciful.

“I don’t care.” He smooths his hand over your knee. His fingertips tickle the inside of your leg.

“Like I said, it really was just kissing. Mostly. But sometimes when he was on top of me, I’d let him…” Mortified, you struggle to get the words out. You make a nonsensical gesture with your hand. The tilt of his head is minute, but it’s enough for you to know he’s not following. You close your eyes and try to imagine none of this is real. You’re not really saying this. “I think it’s called grinding?”

“You let him rub his cock against you,” Langdon reiterates with cruel bluntness.

“Our clothes stayed on,” you assure him. You are certain any more embarrassment will cause your face to blister. “And it only happened a few times.”

“Regardless,” Langdon imposes. He moves his hand just beneath the hem of your dress until his palm is flush with your thigh. “You let him. You tested your boundaries. Why?”

“He said he loved me.” You lift your eyes to his, but you immediately wish you didn’t, because you feel and sound foolish. Naive. Delusional. Someone easy to take advantage of. “Sorry, that probably sounds stupid.”

“It doesn’t.” The way his eyes hold yours, unflinchingly certain and responsive, allows you to believe that he means it. He removes his hand from your thigh so he can drag the back of his fingers against your cheek. His gaze is softer. “You trusted him and he betrayed you. You did nothing wrong.”

You already know that, but you still need to hear it. The pain of betrayal has now ebbed to a mere sting, but it’s enough to pull heat and wet into your eyes. “He left me when he realized I wasn’t going to give in. He didn’t think I was serious. I guess he also thought I could be convinced.”

You throw Langdon’s words back at him. He receives them with an impressed smile. “But now he’s dead, and you’ve resigned yourself to a lifetime of celibacy. What a tragic ending for you both.”

“What choice do I have?”

“Me,” he replies, his hand now combing into your hair, his thumb dragging against the line of your jaw as he leans closer. “I’ll fuck you.”

It’s that word again. You’re supposed to hate the way it sounds, but you don’t. You’re supposed to feel disgusted with him, but you aren’t. You’re ensnared by his smell and heat and face. The desire to give in mounts. “I can’t.”

“Seven billion people were erased from this world in the blink of an eye, and you think your God cares about you getting fucked without a ring on your finger?”

“My choices have nothing to do with God. I’m waiting for the person that will commit their life to me. Whoever that person is, I want them to have everything.”

Langdon is still. He doesn’t reply immediately. Instead he stares at you. Through you. The sensation feels as if you’re being read, like he’s reaching into your skull and sifting through the truths for the one lie you know he will not find. You haven’t lied to him. You are, indeed, a good girl.

He smiles and it’s boyish and brilliant and breathtaking. His other hand comes to grip the other side of your head, and he’s cupping your face in both of his warm hands. “You’re perfect,” he says approvingly. “You’re no angel, but you’re close enough. Father is going to love you.”

The fire behind you flares as if it’s alive, agreeing with him. You can almost feel the dancing flames reaching to pull you in. The heat is overwhelming against your back, and your skin struggles to breathe beneath your dress. It’s all so suffocating, but you don’t want to move because his lips are so close to yours. With just the tilt of your chin, you’ll feel them. Warm, full, soft, the hungry press of a man’s tongue against your own.

It takes incredible self-control to deny caving into your hunger. “Is this how you’ve treated everyone before me? If I kiss you, will I fail?”

His sigh is a soft breath against your face. In that brief moment, he looks tired. Annoyance then darkens his gaze, but somehow you know it isn’t annoyance with you. The hand he has against your face is much too gentle to be angry with you. He stands and puts distance between the two of you. Just like that, you can breathe. You shake your head from your stupor and press a palm to your damp forehead.

What was that?

There’s a desk in the corner of the room, and you watch as he leans against it. He crosses his arms and the mood shifts. The heat no longer snaps excitedly against your skin. It’s humid. Dense. The fire at your back feels ready to engulf you. You want to leave, and by the looks of it, he’s about to let you.

“Your station has changed,” Langdon continues casually, picking up a conversation you never started. His leonine-heavy gaze returns to you. “As of now, you are no longer expected to take orders from anyone at this Outpost. For the next few days, you are to adapt to your new rank.”

“Hold on a second,” you appeal, still needing a moment to regain your bearings from that almost-kiss. “I’m getting promoted? I’m not a Gray anymore?” Your legs feel weak beneath you when you stand. Your heart is exhausted. Any more excitement and it might actually give out.

“You are neither a Gray, a Purple, or any other absurd class improvised by Wilhemina Venable to feed her tyrannical god complex.”

Your head spins as you try to decipher what he’s suggesting, but any effort is constantly interrupted with the rejoiceful slip of I passed looping through your mind. You aren’t a Gray anymore. You’re just you. Free. Safe. “I’m going to The Sanctuary?”

“You’ll go where I think you’ll be safest.”

That brings you to a halt. You pause walking, your eyes locked with his. “What do you mean? Why would you care about my safety? You don’t even know me.”

“True,” he agrees, taking the first step forward to close the distance between you again. You’re beginning to notice a pattern where he seems unable to tolerate speaking outside the area of your personal space. “But I don’t need to know your favorite color, the name of your first pet, or how old you were when you started your period. That information is neither interesting to me nor useful.”

Your eyes narrow, tight with mistrust. “You need me to be useful?”

“You will be. Or at least part of you.” He drags his gaze below your hips to make a point.

You bristle. All desire you feel for him is wrung from you with that one glance. “I will not serve as your sex slave.”

His blue stare is disparaging. He looks bored again, as if you’re discussing business and he’s simply filling you in on last meeting’s notes. “If I wanted a sex slave, do you really think I’d choose the last virgin on Earth for the job?”

The last virgin on Earth. You wonder if that’s true. You wonder how he could possibly even know that, and yet you’re positive that he does. Somehow, some way, this man has knowledge that should be impossible. “I think you’d choose someone that poses a challenge, and I think the last virgin on Earth would be exactly that for you.”

His smile is impressed again, but his gaze is harder. Arrogant. He steps forward to tower over you. His blonde hair slips from behind his shoulders to frame the magnificence of his face in a golden halo. “Does figuring me out make you feel smart?”

You aren’t allowed to lie. You haven’t forgotten. “I don’t feel smart, I feel afraid. I don’t understand what you want from me.”

“What I want is your unwavering conviction.” His hands lift to grip your hips and he pulls you closer. The buckle of his belt presses uncomfortably against you, his mouth once more at your ear. “I need you to deny me and mean it. I need your innocence to remain more important to you than this.”

He takes your hand and presses your open fingers against his crotch. He grinds himself into your palm so you can feel the fullness of him in your hand. Your fingers twitch with the desire to close around that hardness and heat. Just as he asks, just as you want, you forcibly snatch your hand away and whip it across his face.

The spark of pain smarting against your palm precedes the awareness of what you’ve done. Langdon’s golden hair curtains his face. You can’t read his expression. You can’t see how angry he is. You don’t care. You pull yourself free of him and move backward towards the doors, watching as he straightens to watch you go. His gaze drags against your skin. He smirks as if he approves, as if he’s satisfied.

“Why?” Is all you are able to ask. Nothing makes sense. You haven’t felt this confused since the bombs fell and blew your world to smithereens, and yet somehow you were one of the few to live on.

“Because you have been deemed worthy of a very important role.”

“Deemed by who?” You demand. Your hands are shaking and you curl them into your dress. “What role?”

“As the bride of the New World.”

You shake your head. It’s all you can do now that your voice has fled you. He’s gauging your reaction with an indifference that communicates his lack of compassion for the turmoil he’s thrown you into.

“No,” you somehow manage to choke out. You don’t know what it is you’re rejecting, you don’t understand what he’s talking about, but whatever it is, you don’t want it. “I don’t accept.”

“Which is exactly why you’ve been chosen,” he interrupts spiritlessly. This conversation is a chore for him. “Your resistance is what I need.”

“But why?”

“Because I cannot corrupt what is already corrupted. There is no victory to be gained in debasing someone that wishes to be. You are the only one left that can be groomed for the purpose for which you’ve been chosen. You will resist me up until the point where you can’t, and then you will surrender everything to me. It will be through your sacrifice that His will be done.”

You want to argue. You want to press him to clarify what he means by grooming and His will. You want to pull open the doors and run from him and never look back---Sanctuary be damned. You do none of these things. There’s no point. Not when you know he’s right. His words feel like prophecy, and he speaks them like he’s divined them himself.

“I’d rather die,” you bite out in a last ditch effort to retain control over your will.

“Spare me the dramatics,” he orders, swinging his arms behind his back and tilting his head like a schoolteacher censuring a bad child. “The others have given me enough of them. I’ve already allowed more from you than anyone else, but my tolerance has worn thin. Lie to me again, and there will be consequences.”

That has you riled up. Your fear is momentarily forgotten and you straighten yourself in preparation to argue. “I don’t answer to you.”

“Is that what you think?” There’s danger simmering below the surface of his collected gaze. A confidence that’s vested in the accoutrements of power. He’s being patient with you, because he knows something you don’t and he’s waiting to see when the ball will drop.

You’ve never felt this around a person before. His presence surpasses what would normally be excused as sheer charisma. He fills the room in a way that stirs, as if his life force is enough to gather even the attention of the air. You either allow yourself to be taken in, or you choke on him.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Michael Langdon,” he reminds you. As if you ever forgot. As if you haven’t been hearing it whispered amongst the others for the last day. “And last I checked, I’m not the one being interviewed.”

He’s standing before you again. You’ve backed as far away as you’re physically able, your back now flush with the door. You glare up into his beautiful face like a person determined to admire the sun. “This doesn’t feel like an interview.”

“You’re right,” he cedes softly. “It’d be more appropriate to call this an introduction.”

“Am I supposed to say it’s nice to meet you?”

“Only if you feel that way.”

“I don’t.”

He considers you for a quiet moment. You’ve been staring at his mouth enough tonight that you can now tell when he’s displeased. The fullness of his lips are drawn taught. Not as soft.

You don’t care if you’ve offended him. He deserves to be. His forwardness and bizarre statements have left you frightened, indignant. Most of all, you’re confused. You have a hundred questions whizzing around your head, and you know you won’t get any answers unless you quit fighting and engage with him the way he wants. “‘Bride of the New World’, what does that mean?”

“What do you think it means?”

“Are you going to keep answering my questions with more questions?”

He smirks, and it’s just shy of a real smile. Your heart murmurs in response, and you hate yourself for it. You hate even more how immediately you flush when you feel his right hand wrap around your left.

“Since you’re so smart, I’ll let you figure it out. You’re the bride,” he begins, and he drags his thumb across your ring finger. “And I’m the New World.”

Surprise comes at you like a baseball bat bludgeoning you in the head. The sensation starts off as a numb tingling in the back of your skull. It collects there until it overflows, spilling down your neck, your spine, through your shoulders, until your entire body is numb with it. You can’t feel the warmth of his hand around yours. You can’t feel your expression. You don’t know what you want to ask, because you’re not sure you’ve accepted what you’ve heard. From the moment you stepped into this room, you’ve felt half-submerged in a fever dream turned nightmare. You decide the best way to wake is to let it run its course.

“The Cooperative decided this?” You ask in a dazed whisper.

The hint of playfulness that’d warmed his gaze is extinguished. You’ve brought up something he doesn’t like talking about. He releases your hand. “No. If The Cooperative had decided this, then it’d be negotiable.”

The resentment that sharpens the bite of his voice almost manages to pull you back to reality. Almost. “You have no say in this either.” It’s a statement, because you know it’s true. The tightness of his mouth confirms it.

And maybe he doesn’t like being read, because he turns away from you and moves to stand before the fireplace.

“If not The Cooperative, then who is forcing me—us—to do this?”

“My Father.”

You laugh. You can’t help it. It bubbles up your throat and slips through your disbelieving smile. This man, the one who strolled in here and took charge as if the world was made for the palm of his hand, was taking orders from his daddy. “Well, maybe you can tell your father that I’m not interested.”

“Come here and tell him yourself.”

You grow quiet and wait for the punchline. It takes several long seconds to pass before you accept that he’s serious. With slow footsteps, you approach his side before the fireplace. He doesn’t even so much as glance at you. His stare is held by the flame. Curious, you also turn your gaze to the fire.

The sensation that shrouds you is overpowering. The darkness that’s introduced doesn’t creep, it charges. You’re plunged into a fear that feels like a bottomless chasm. You’re being eaten, your stomach in your throat. The flames stretch and dance like irritable feelers reaching to pull you in and burn you. You’re a trapped deer staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Tell him,” Langdon invites with collected calm. “Deny him.”

Your words are caught behind what feels like a tennis ball in your throat. Your eyes are locked on the fire. You can’t see anything, but you can feel it. It’s listening, and this terrifies you.

“Say it,” Langdon commands, impatience making his voice harsh.

“I won’t marry you. I refuse.” The fire crackles and you flinch. “Even if it means not going to The Sanctuary.”

“You’ll die,” he reminds you.

“Maybe.” You don’t want to agree. You don’t want to accept the likelihood. “But if it means standing by my ideals, then so be it. I accept the consequences.”

At your words, the fire swells to an inferno. You swear the flames reach the ceiling. You throw up your arms, cowering from the enraged heat that threatens to catch you. You stumble backward against Michael, who’s moved to stand behind you. He catches you by the shoulders and takes your right hand in his.

“Don’t be afraid,” he urges, pulling your hand up to the flame.

“Please, stop!” It’s going to burn you. You jerk your arm in an effort to get free, but his grip on you is too tight. He forces you closer to the hearth. His arm is braced around your waist. He leans forward, pressuring you closer to the dancing flames. You clench your eyes closed as he pulls your hand directly into the fire. A feathery warmth envelops your hand. Surprised, you open your eyes just to confirm that your hand is indeed encased in flame.

“How?” You wonder breathlessly.

Langdon’s grip relaxes around your hand, and his ringed fingers tenderly brush over yours. His chin is against your shoulder, his long hair brushing your neck. “He approves of you.”

You weakly shake your head. He’s not making sense, but you can’t concentrate enough to care. You’re enchanted by the sensation tickling your skin, astonished how it can even be happening. You decide you’re dreaming. You must be. “Is this real?”

“Doesn’t it feel real?” He questions softly. The arm he has curled around your waist tightens and he pulls you further against him until your backside is flush with his groin, your legs pressed against his thighs. He shifts his hips so you can feel his hardness nestled between your legs. His warm lips caress the side of your neck.

“Mr. Langdon--”

“Michael,” he corrects.

“Michael…” His mouth brushes your neck and your objection falters. It feels wonderful. Your eyes slip closed so you can concentrate on the velvety drag of his mouth on your skin. You tuck your teeth into your lip to withhold another shivering sigh. You’re under that strange spell again where your senses are overwhelmed with him, and you just can’t get enough. Like an addict who promises to quit but can’t commit, you tell yourself just a little more. Then you’ll stop. Just a few more moments, and you’ll push him away.

His hand drops to your hip and slips around to the front of your thigh where he grabs, hoisting you further against him until you’re practically sitting in his lap. Your breath hitches. Heat simmers low in your belly. His chest is weighing against you, and you curl your back against him. The action tilts your hips forwards and you can now feel the full press of his manhood between your thighs. Your instinct is to rub yourself against it, but you bite your lip and resist. You know better. “Wait.”

“I want you, Caroline.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard him say your name. He makes it sound beautiful, like poetry, and you’re troubled by how badly you wish to hear it again. “I don’t want this.”

“What did I tell you about lying to me?” He asks with silken menace, his hand dragging low across your abdomen, his teeth nipping your skin in teasing punishment.

Blistering pain explodes around the hand you still have partly in the fire. You scream and pull it out, but the excruciating pain is still there. Michael releases you and you stagger away from him, away from the fireplace, clutching your seared hand.

“What did you do?”

His cerulean gaze is pitiless as he stalks after you. “I warned you. I told you there’d be consequences, and you accepted them. Or was that another lie?”

You grit your teeth. Again, he’s right. You did accept the consequences. You forsook his proffered Sanctuary in order to protect your ideals. You just never imagined that the consequences he threatened would be this inconceivable. The fire had lashed out at you on purpose. You don’t know how it’s possible, but you know it’s the truth. What just happened hadn’t been an accident. His eyes confirm it.

You’re afraid again. You just want to get away, but this time you’re not sure what you’re running from. A few minutes ago, you would’ve claimed you were running from a man. Now, you’re not so sure. Your hand stings and you glance behind him at the fire as an irrational level of terror numbs you from the waist down. When your back hits the door, you scramble for the handle with weak hands. This time, you will be leaving. Your fingers are wedged between the doors, ready to pull them open, when he speaks.

“There is nowhere you can run. He will not yield. Not when he’s decided he wants you,” he says, returning his hands to behind his back in a way that leaves his body language non-threatening. You’re not fooled.

“You’re insane,” you accuse. Your voice quakes and you don’t care. You shake your head as if you can cast off the foreboding that clings to you like a cage. “Leave me alone.”

“No, I don’t think I will.” Although he’s steps behind you, somehow his voice is in your ear again, a sultry whisper carrying a dangerous promise. “Your fate has been decided and there is no getting away from it. You don’t have that freedom. You wondered why you survived, and now you have your answer. You’ve been gifted with the one thing that so many waste their lives trying to find.”

His words manage to carry through the buzz of panic in your head to recapture your attention. You meet his eyes so he knows that you’re listening. “What?”

“Purpose.” The word is a sugary drip of honey that lands stale. “You should be happy.”

Despite your distress, you still manage to feel provoked. Happy. That sentiment died along with the rest of the world. You had no one left that cared about you for any reason other than how useful you could be, and this man was clearly no different. Though his motivations were still shrouded in mystery, he made it quite clear that he only viewed you as a tool to be exploited for a grander purpose. A purpose for which he expected you to feel happy about. A purpose which robbed you of choice, of your freedom. You would rather have died with your family.

“Is that what you are? Happy?”

Your words bring him up short, and for the first time all evening his sureness wavers. You can see it in the subtle shift of his expression where his eyes soften beneath the reminder of some unseen injury. Your words have brushed over an unhealed wound and the throb of memory has resurfaced something he’s tried to bury.

For the first time since his arrival at the Outpost, you’ve come face-to-face with the real Michael Langdon, and you feel something inside you resonate with the reawakening of his loss. His quiet speaks volumes, but you are stubborn to ignore the sympathy that unfurls like a sleeping flower in your chest. You haven’t forgotten your fear, and the bloom of feeling you might have for him wilts beneath the overcast of his malicious dominion.

His will is poison, and you’re scared to breathe.

“I want nothing to do with you.” These are the last words you speak before you leave. As you rush back to your room, you clasp a hand around your crucifix and pray that you’re at least better at lying to yourself than you are to him.

Author’s Note: Hello! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Like many, I fell absolutely head-over-heels in LOVE with Cody Fern this past season of AHS, and I couldn't wait to get my fingers on him (on my keyboard, anyway...). Please let me know what you think of this chapter. This is my first Character/Reader fic, so it's pretty new territory for me. I hope you guys don't mind that I gave 'you' a name (I find myself really thrown off when reading 'Y/N').

Please comment/like/reblog if you liked the chapter! I really appreciate any support.

Until next chapter! AVE SATANAS

#Michael Langdon #AHS Apocalypse #Michael Langdon Fanfiction #Michael Langdon fic #Michael Langdon smut #Michael Langdon x Reader #Michael Langdon x You #Michael Langdon x OC #IC01 #Depraved Maniac

[noddytheornithopod]

So I finished Danganronpa 2 and... MY HEAD HOLY FUCK THAT WAS A LOT TO PROCESS

All the weird glitching and shit was quite eerie, it did get a bit frustrating sometimes actually.

IT’S A GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAME (or rather, the Neo World is a simulation designed to undo the brainwashing of the Ultimate Despairs - the students here). Seriously, whenever Monokuma said that it was hilarious.

Hey it’s Alter Ego! Fucking Junko created her own version of it to upload into the dead students, holy shit that’s freaky.

Okay, Makoto showing up was really cool. Byakuya appeared too, which was awesome. Oh yeah, am I missing someone? Oh of course... KYOKO KIRIGIRI APPEARS TOO!!!!!! They show up because the shutdown sequence they created needs at least half of the number of students that were in the game.

I swear Junko was hot for <akoto with how she talked about him at some points... opposites attract?

So the Ultimate Despairs actually were recruited one by one and through Junko’s persuasion... now I see why people don’t like DR3′s portrayal of things, it reduces it all to “lol she made anime that made them wackos”. How it’s described here sounds much more compelling, it’s basically her just being charismatic and influencing and manipulating people to brainwash them, and her fellow despairs then used that across the world, including with the reserve suicide.

The stuff they did to the world was shocking, but themselves? YIKES. Nagito having the fucking arm of Junko, holy shit. Also... he seemed to still hate Junko even as a Despair? Also... Hajime as Izuru telling him the shit Nagito said to Hajime about how he’s worthless... ironic.

Okay honestly the stuff they did in general is pretty fucked up. Especially... NECROPHILIA???? FUCKING NECROPHILIA????? That was so Teruteru who did that (or Soda, it’s one of the horny ones, duh).

This final chapter was seriously meta, it’s wild. IT’S A GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAME!

Giant Alter Ego Junko said her boobs are like 15 metres wide??? That’s weird. And she also mentions how it’s not a fanservice game, shit.

Junko’s voice acting was much better in this game... I actually found her kinda charismatic even as she was fucking awful instead of last time where she was just fucking awful... OH NO, AM I BEING SEDUCED INTO HER CULT OF DESPAIR???

Just as I thought, Nagito wanted to off everyone but Chiaki since they were all the Despairs... ironically, this would leave all their bodies blank, meaning Junko could hijack them. Okay seriously, the fact she wants to hijack everyone’s bodies so everyone will end up as Junko... that’s honestly pretty terrifying. It gave me freaking LOTS OF ME flashbacks.

Chiaki showed up to save Hajime after she died, holy shit. And she basically shows up to help him choose to do things his own way in the end.

All the ending stuff and the themes is something I’m REALLY going to have to process. Like... despair is defeated, but instead of hope they choose the “future”. I mean, I kinda see that as a form of hope in itself, but I guess the thing here is that they’re kinda creating their own path? I guess kinda like what Makoto decided in the first game? Just now, there’s more grey areas and every option has elements of hope and despair. Oh my gosh, I’m confused just writing this.

THANK YOU CHIAKI for telling us that it’s not important about whether you’re born with talent or not, just whether you believe in yourself. Hajime chooses to be his own person in the end and do that, and that’s what he needed to initiate the shutdown. Now we see just how much of a foil Nagito is to him.

Oh yeah Hajime was basically turned into freaking Izuru... and Hope’s Peak basically ALWAYS was researching talent to create this “Ultimate Hope”. In other words, they made Hajime a fucking ubermensch, essentially. And he killed the student council (which DR3 also contradicts, they went with the “Junko set it up” route), which started the Tragedy.

Look I know Kyoko is my big thing, but I legitimately have to wonder... since her father was the Headmaster of Hope’s Peak, what does she think of him now if he pretty much was involved in this project? I think DR3 portrayed him as conflicted or something, but I barely remember and honestly it seems like it contradicts stuff in 2 anyway so whatever lol

I definitely want to think more about the whole “gifted vs ordinary” theme. Like, it seems like the Tragedy was even able to happen was because Junko basically exploited the resentment of the Reserve Students and used that to convert them to her ideology. Nagito obviously has his social Darwinist views on this too. Junko also said something like that those who have talent end up with despair... this is kind of what she herself experiences, funnily enough. I think she said it’s because you eventually get knocked off the top, essentially. It’s certainly quite a bizarre worldview for sure, but yeah, she seems to have her own resentment for talented people in a way, but not in a sense to actually challenge the idea we even need this divide.

Chiaki’s thank you to Hajime’s, aww...

Small thing, but the ending where they showed Makoto, Kyoko and Byakuya was sweet. Makoto admiring how they were able to find a way to carve out their own futures, their nice Future Foundation outfits and Byakuya being friendly and noting Makoto’s sentimentality. They also chose to come with him even though they knew how risky it was, they had to do something even if the Future Foundation is fucked and the Neo World wasn’t fully prepared. I mean, Kyoko doesn’t surprise me that she’d work with Makoto, but Byakuya joining too really is a testament to how much he’s grown. Guess Hina, Hiro and Toko had their own stuff to do lol (I know Toko is in Ultra Despair Girls for example). Also... Kyoko’s tease about Toko to Byakuya, wow, she can show her sense of humour when she wants to. XD

But yeah, that was a pretty awesome experience. I’m not sure over whether I prefer 1 or 2, since even if 2 had a more complex and intriguing plot with its twists and turns, 1 I feel emotionally impacted me more and also had the isolated horror aspect to it. Plus, Kyoko Kirigiri. :P I found 1′s trials easier to manage overall since even on easy 2 made them more complicated, though I enjoy the brain surfing minigame 2 added. 2 also has stronger music overall. I guess 2 is more “fun”, in a sense, while 1 has that eerieness to it and unknown factor that makes you identify with the characters more? Obviously 2 had great characters too, in general I just felt more for 1′s. I guess they balance each other out in the end, lol. But yeah, overall I really enjoyed Danganronpa 2, as I did with the first game.

#danganronpa 2 #danganronpa