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inhonoredglory · 3 years

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another character based question - how do you feel about mikasa? a lot of fans dont like her, im curious about how you feel! - armin anon

Hellooooo Armin Anon. OMG it’s been forever since I had the time to sit down and do a proper meta, and I apologize.

First off, I finished the manga!!! (So, spoilers ahead for anyone else reading this.) I had to lie down after reading 139. It’s a tremendous story and I’m still taking it all in. The set pieces and personal/emotional stakes of everything that happens is just astounding. If it’s one thing Isayama does good, it’s the gut-wrenching personal anguish that underlies the action. I’m absolutely floored. My favorite bit was probably the timey-wimey stuff in Paths and Eren. That blew my freaking mind. But onto Mikasa!!

A Cruel Yet Beautiful World

I remember way back when I started the anime that I started liking Mikasa first out of the group. I liked how sullenly silent and no-nonsense she was, and I liked her loyalty to Eren. Her emotion, especially when Eren died in Trost, was palpable and terrifyingly beautiful. Her grief was incredibly realistic––rushing off with a death wish that even she couldn’t succumb to in the end, because of the drive to fight that she got from Eren. In a world like SNK, her relentlessness breaking through her grief was incredibly moving. And her philosophy is basically the driving theme of SNK: “This is a cruel world, and yet so beautiful.”

This is the same moral message she gives Eren when he can’t find the strength in him to fight Annie––and gives him that warm, understanding, inscrutable smile that allows him to finally accept his own monsters, fight Annie, and save her and Armin. (One of my favorite panels of her from the manga, actually.) Mikasa is basically the first character we meet who embodies this contradictory morality, which grows to engulf SNK and other characters as well (Levi, Reiner, and Armin especially come to mind). Which could be why I was drawn to her at the start, since the complex moral outlook of SNK was the primary reason I fell hard for this story.

(And gosh, it’s tragic to realize that it’s teaching moments like the scene above that made Eren into the person who could influence his own child self to murder, the person who could wipe out so much of humanity, the person who could take Ymir’s challenge to free her by destroying the love of the person who cared the most about him. I’m still processing yo.)

Acker-parallels

I started really analyzing Mikasa when I had to defend her from a friend of mine who accused her of resenting Levi (for beating up Eren) and that’s why she attacked him so violently in the RTS serumbowl. Because of my research into rebutting that, a lot of my affection for Mikasa now comes in seeing the little ways in which she cares and trusts other people, including Armin, Levi, Gabi, and Jean. And her quiet sensibility that goes beyond her love and protectiveness of Eren.

With Levi in particular, I find a lot I like about her. Because you can definitely see her annoyance at him, but she also trusts him more than anyone else in the Corps outside of Armin. After Levi’s violent encounter with Historia, she was the only one who implicitly trusted Levi’s judgement, backing up Armin’s more reasoned logic. She sees beyond her own emotions and even moral feelings and realizes the world is cruel enough that sometimes people have to do dark things to help others and survive.

This is very much the same statement Levi made to the 104th when he had asked them to follow Erwin’s orders when the commander’s plans were questionable on the surface: “Do you trust him? Those dumb enough to say yes… come with me.” These two understand each other on a moral level, and they ask for their comrades’ loyalty without demanding it, because they each know that everyone’s conscience is their own.

There’s a clear parallel between Mikasa and Levi, not only because of their Ackerman heritage and sensibilities (loyal to a fault to their chosen person, impossibly strong, quiet and grim), but their frustration when they cannot protect the people they are responsible for. They both know they are the strongest around, and if they cannot fulfill on that power, a lot of people will die.

There are many moments in which Mikasa puts aside her personal feelings to do her soldierly duty, from leaving Eren to help with the evacuation of Trost to leaving Eren and Armin to fight the Colossal Titan alone in Shigonshina.

And then there’s the fact that Levi’s the one who could break past Mikasa’s headspace and distraction so that she can do the right thing. He understands her strong emotion, he respects it, but he also knows when that has to be put aside for the greater good. But he doesn’t put her down for having those emotions, either.

Strength from Eren, Humanity from Armin

Mikasa’s love and loyalty to Eren challenges her tremendously after the timeskip and her sorrow at Eren’s change is what really stands out to me about her character in the Marley arc. The absolute grief in her eyes when she tells Eren what he’s done is devastating, and it shows just how much goodness and compassion she does have.

And yet she longs to understand Eren, to trust him, to believe there can be something redeeming, and not merely jaded and tired, in what he taught her so many years ago––to fight, to win, to live.

There’s such a difference between these same words said here by Mikasa, so many years later, after so much heartbreak, to the anger and flame that were in them when she first heard them, back when she realized that this was the way of the world. That death and killing happens in the natural world everyday and that’s how you survive. That the world is both cruel and beautiful.

And yet as the years wore on, as Mikasa grew closer to others, found purpose in protecting others, sought a life with Eren… as she wandered further into the forest of life and society and relationships, she lost some of that simple injunction... to live is to fight, to fight is to win. She, like so many of the 104th and the others on this journey, found that it’s not enough to just fight and live and be satisfied. We really want it all to mean something, to have our actions be redemptive. To allow ourselves to believe that we do what we’re doing because we’re not just saving ourselves, but saving others, “saving the world” like Yelena points out (in the forest therapy session pfff). And it’s that drive for something bigger in our actions that grieves her so much with Eren, because as she wants her own actions to be fundamentally good and selfless, she wants his actions to be moral as well.

So while Eren is the person that frustrates Mikasa and motivates her to become stronger and braver than she ever was, Armin is the person who humanizes Mikasa and allows her the space to be gentle and vulnerable. She comforts Armin, confides in him, puts her faith in him, and puts her life in his hands.

She trusts Armin with Eren, and she values Armin’s intellect and compassion, qualities she doesn’t have in nearly as much quantities as he does: “There are only so many lives I can value. And… I decided who those people were six years ago. So... you shouldn’t try to ask for my pity. Because right now, I don’t have time to spare or room in my heart.”

This bit from her confrontation with Ymir and Historia was a defining moment for me with Mikasa. It’s honest and realistic in a way that few of us care to admit about ourselves, and it’s just super chilling and badass coming from her, too. It also shows how much she fights for Armin and Eren both. They are the two people she loves the most in the world, and she never gave up on saving either of them––from death or from themselves.

I’m looking back on Trost now and finding so much irony with the ending to SNK. In Trost, she was the one to give up on Eren, telling Armin that it was hopeless to try to extract Eren’s personality from his Titan form. And yet, like in the end, it’s always been between Armin and Mikasa to try to salvage Eren’s humanity. In Trost, Armin tells Mikasa to leave––to go do what she’s good at (saving lives)––and to entrust Eren to him.

It’s a huge expression of both Mikasa’s trust in Armin, and her belief in Armin’s abilities and friendship for Eren. And in the end, it’s the two of them again debating on if there’s any humanity left in Eren. The bond they share is intimate and deep. With all the military doubting Eren and scheming to take away his Titan (with even Jean and Connie unavailable to them emotionally), it’s only Armin and Mikasa against the world––the only two people who can truly consider Eren’s actions and hold off on judging him. And you can feel their love for him even as they doubt him.

And like back then, it has always been Armin who understands Eren most, the one who recognizes his own evil and Eren’s and finds a redemption in having others stop you, because you cannot stop yourself.

And that’s the thing I really take away from SNK and from Mikasa’s journey, that we all have devils inside us, and yet there is still beauty to be found, within us and in the world––from the natural wonders that Armin dreams of, to the comfort of purpose and companionship that Mikasa has in Eren. Love and wonder is what redeems us of our devils. And yet love itself is complicated, and can turn ugly in its obsession. That giving up that love is what makes the love selfless and beautiful, what absolves us of the selfishness within us. That’s what Mikasa learned. And in the end, she was able to release that love for the good of the world.

So I guess to sum up, I really love Mikasa. I can see why her dogged loyalty to Eren might annoy some fans, but I think there’s a lot more to her than simply that, and in fact, her journey and growth is heart-rending and one of the most symbolic arcs of SNK and fundamental to its entire theme. She’s a badass with a lot of emotion and depth behind her cold mask.

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octoberink · 3 years

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The Imperium- Part 1(?)

As he was guided into the massive facility, he couldn’t help the way his hands fidgeted in the uncomfortable bonds that kept them clasped together. His stomach curled ever so slightly as he stepped inside. He wasn’t nervous or scared by any means. He was aggravated. He had been found and quickly caught by those he had been running from for so long. No. Actually, he wasn’t running from anything. He was running towards something. To freedom. A life without the constant prying eyes of the beings that deemed themselves above everyone else. For one reason or another, they truly believed they were the ultimate sentients in the universe. That they should decide the fates and ways of life of all creatures.

His own people disgusted him.

The imperium was shoved harshly into the processing quarters. He was thoroughly searched, registered, and given new clothes to wear. They kept the bulky brace on his ankle to keep him from using his abilities. Most alien creatures in the prison would have one as well. He was then guided to the main area of the prison. The cells all bore transparent walls, small beds, and flimsy doors. There were two floors in this facility. The first floor held tables, chairs, and a corner of cheap data pads for mild entertainment. The second floor was where all of the cells sat. Not many were empty.

His bonds were removed when he was shown where his room was. And then, his door was closed for curfew. He went to the small bed in the corner, and sat down with a heavy sigh. How he wished he had gotten away. He would soon enough be executed for a crime he didn’t even commit. He’s committed other crimes. But the one that they had accused him for was punishable by death. And he would never be so stupid or heartless to perform such an outrageous act on another. Again, he’s done other things. Things easily seen as crimes, and argued to be rather terrible.

But not this, he thought to himself with bitterness.

As the time passed—for how long, he didn’t know for sure—he mostly sat in his cell in silence. Eating and drinking when given sustenance. Complying. Counting down the moments he had left to live. The others in the facility knew of him. His reputation. What he was. They wouldn’t dare pick a fight or bother him. And he was content with that. There was also no reason for him to fight the ones who had caught and imprisoned him. He had no escape plan. No friends or allies willing to assist his escape. He was out of options. Out of hope.

Until they brought her in.

He was finishing his next meal in his cell when his slightly glowing gaze moved to the opening door on the first floor. There hadn’t been a new prisoner to enter the facility since he’d arrived. The imperium felt curiosity course through him at the sight. He stood up, and slowly stepped over to the door of his cell to observe the newcomer.

He watched a guard harshly drag a small creature with him. The imperium spotted long, bright red hair. Pale skin. Female. Small, but proportionately small for an adult. Two legs. Two arms, like him. Wearing the same yellow uniform as the rest in the facility. Her eyes were a beautiful brown, if he thought honestly. A small beauty mark dotted itself just beneath her right eye. And in those deep brown eyes was a grand fear he had not witnessed in so long.

The red hair was an interesting trick for small-minded creatures like most in the prison. Many of them were born with that same color. But this imperium knew better. She was indeed a human. A human who tried to hide what she was in the easiest way she could manage.

A large smile slowly grew on his features as excitement coursed through him. Imperiums and humans have had a unique history in the past. He’s heard many stories and myths. But he’s never seen or spoken to a human himself. He knows how fragile they are. Especially their minds. Easy to control and manipulate. He also knew how skittish they typically were when around an intimidating being such as himself. Mostly because the majority of their planet hadn’t been aware of the millions of other lifeforms from other galaxies for most of their existence. They were a young, primitive race. They still had so much to learn. And no one wanted anything to do with them once they had been saved from the sun in their solar system. It had imploded, destroying their home in the process.

Humans were violent, pretentious beings. Ignorant, and cruel to just themselves. They had refused to care for their own world, and often started wars over petty things. If humans had only worked together as one on their planet, they would have been able to accomplish anything. They could have joined the rest of the species among the stars sooner. Discovered new worlds.

Maybe then they would have realized how small and insignificant they really were. They wouldn’t have been so arrogant or presumptuous.

But such things didn’t interest the imperium in his cell door. He wasn’t sure why, but just the sight of the human excited him. He had questions. Other curiosities about this one in particular. Her life, personality. And fears.

Oh, yes. What a human fears was something that truly intrigued him.

Unlike other species of the universe that typically feared things such as death, and destruction of their homeworlds and their own people, humans feared other, more frivolous things. Things like small creatures, weather, things they have made themselves, and even things that weren’t even there. Things one could not see, or touch.

Humans even feared their own emotions.

It was a most unique and intriguing concept that this imperium did not quite understand. But he wanted to. He ached for the chance to get into a human’s mind. To immerse himself into the thoughts of an emotionally complex being. It was just one of the many things that separated humans from all others he’s known.

Humans had strong emotions. Stronger than any others in the universe. And he wanted to know what that was like. Why they were so strong. Strong enough to drive them to repeat their own histories and mistakes again, and again.

He continued to watch her as she was taken to a cell not too far from his own. Directly across from him, on the other side of the balcony. The guard released her, and left. The human closed the door of her cell, visibly shaking in fear.

Why had she been brought in? What could she have done to deserve a cell among the likes of himself? He stood at his door and observed her further. Her eyes darted around, watching a few of the other aliens slowly make their way closer to her cell. But the imperium didn’t move. Not yet.

She was thinking hard about what she could do to defend herself among the other brutes of the facility. The guards wouldn’t help her. Everyone else either simply wanted her for themselves, or didn’t care enough to help. And the imperium would have to wait and see what he would be up against first before deciding whether or not he was her ally.

The female finally turned to her bed, and ripped up a sheet. He watched her closely with intrigue, glancing at the aliens that continued to edge their way up the stairs, and across the balcony. He crossed his arms just as she turned back around to her door. She opened it slightly, and stuffed the torn cloth into the connection port of the cell door. She gripped the handle, and harshly pulled it.

The door simply bounced off the cloth. She gripped the handle, and tried again. It still didn’t work. The imperium turned his gaze to a group of three creatures that approached her door. The first grinned sadistically as it also watched her struggle to jam her door.

“Come here, little one,” he slimed the words from his mouth. “I’ll be gentle. At first,” he laughed.

Panic flared in her eyes as she gripped the door handle one last time, and used all her strength to quickly pull it in. With a hard slam, it finally clicked into place. For good. She backed herself to the opposite wall as the aliens approached, and tried to open the door.

It refused to open. The alien tried again, suddenly getting agitated. He slammed a hand on the glass to scare her, and yelled in anger. A guard called up to the group, ordering them to get to their cells for curfew. They hesitantly obeyed, passing her harsh glares as they stepped away.

“You’ll have to come out eventually,” the first one snarled. “Otherwise you’ll starve.”

The young woman watched the monsters leave her be, taking in deep breaths. She slowly sank to the cold floor, bringing her knees up to hug them. Her limbs continued to tremble from the scare. For now, however, she was safe from the wrath of the extraterrestrial brutes.

But the monstrous creature had been right. She would end up starving in her cell. And yet, that was a fate far better than what they had planned for her. At least they didn’t figure out what she really was. If any one of them knew, she would be dead in a matter of hours.

A shiver passed through her when she felt the sensation that she was being watched. Closely. She moved her gaze ahead. And saw him. The imperium. Large. Intimidating. Very muscular and strong looking, standing over seven feet in height. Deep, dark blue skin. Darker hair that fell right on his shoulders. Glowing white eyes that pierced her heart.

She’d heard of his kind before. About the stories and history between their species. And about their abilities. What they could do. She hoped that out of all the creatures in the facility, he didn’t know that she was human.

The sadistic-looking grin on his face told her otherwise.

At least her door was jammed. She would die alone in her cell. It would be a slow, painful death. But still far better than being torn limb-from-limb by the others here. Or being skinned alive. Maybe even breaking her fragile bones one at a time until she begged for death.

She felt her heart quicken its pace against her chest at the horrible thoughts. One-to-one she’d stand a better chance in a fight. But with so many massive, merciless criminals around her, she was weak. Practically powerless. All she could do was cower behind the jammed door of her prison.

She shook her head and lowered it with frustration. She wanted to fight. She wasn’t the best fighter, but she had the spirit of someone who never gave up. Who never gave in so easily. Until today. The moment she was caught in the transport pod, she knew the end was in sight.

She lifted her head to see the imperium still observing her from the door of his cell. A guard called out for him to go inside. The large being hesitated. But soon turned around before his door closed. The young woman went to the small bed and laid down. It took a while to ignore the strange alien noises that surrounded her, but she eventually closed her eyes. And fell asleep.

Some time went by. She wasn’t sure how long. There was no way to distinguish days or nights in the prison. Curfew was the only consistent event to separate times. She couldn’t figure out how long it lasted. Or how long the time was between them. But she had been in the facility for two curfews. That was the best way for her to wrap her mind around some sense of time.

Two curfews. Maybe the equivalent of two nights. Which meant it had been almost three days since she had food or water. Possibly. Again, her sense of time was practically non-existent in the prison. The bed was no longer comfortable for her. She sat on the floor, watching the aliens that walked by pass her looks. Looks she could not identify with the headaches that blurred her vision.

The door to her cell had remained jammed. The guards didn’t bother an attempt to open it. And after the second curfew, the other aliens that had been after her had already given up. She was safe. In pain. Starving, and dehydrated. But safe from a torturous fate.

She closed her eyes, hoping it would ease the pounding headaches a little. And waited. She waited for the end to take her. For her life to be over. She didn’t know why she was so calm about it. About dying. Maybe her life just hadn’t been good enough to hold on to. And if she was to go, she had always planned to go on her own terms. By her own hand or body. Her dark desires were coming to fruition. Slowly. Painfully. But faithfully.

Footsteps approached her door. Heavy. Intentional. Whoever had come over to her wanted her to know. They wanted her to open her eyes. And she did. She looked up. And up. The imperium stood before her jammed door. She stayed sitting on the floor, too weak and tired to move or say anything.

The alien grinned down at her. Another odd thing about his species. They always seemed to be smiling. For reasons no one knew. Some believed it was because of their abilities. That they could hear anyone’s thoughts, and found them to be amusing. Others believed it was just natural to them. Like how a human has to blink. It was rare for them to not smile in another’s presence.

But somehow, she knew his grin was more than that. He was smiling at her. Did he find her oncoming demise funny? Did he want to watch the light die from her eyes when death took her? She didn’t know. And she didn’t care, either. She was far too weak to care.

The imperium slightly cocked his head to one side before his white gaze slowly turned to the edge of the door. He observed the torn cloth stuffed into the port and raised a brow in thought. The young woman felt her heart slowly speed up with worry. He was trying to find a way in. He wanted to break down the door.

She helplessly watched with wide eyes as he took a few steps back. In a flash he lifted a massive, booted foot, and flung it straight at the port. The powerful kick cracked the glass and bent back the metal frame. Enough for the cloth to fly off, unjamming her door.

It slowly squeaked open on its own as if to invite the imperium inside her cell. Her blood turned to ice at the realization. She was vulnerable once again. Her only peace of mind gone. She was no longer safe.

The imperium slowly stepped over to her cell. She wanted to stand up and fight him. Give him as much hell as her tiny body could muster before he ruined her. But the lack of sustenance wouldn’t even allow her to stand, let alone fight. She could only sit, stare at him, and mildly shift her position in panic.

His foot stepped inside. Her chest heaved with each horrified breath as he took a second step in. Her heart mercilessly hammered against her skull. Her entire body quaked under his sinister gaze. She could only watch him as he slowly bent down closer to her level on the floor. She waited for him to snatch her thin neck and strangle her, or simply snap the fragile bones. But he only stared. And smiled.

When his arm moved, she closed her eyes. This was it. The end. He would do horrible things to her before finally killing her. He had been smart enough to wait for her to get weak before breaking down her door. She wouldn’t have the strength to fight him in this state.

Something rustled in front of her before his deep voice rumbled her bones. “So, what are you in for?”

She dared to open her eyes at the strange question, and looked at him. He held out something small in a paper wrap to her. Her gaze darted between his smirk and whatever it was he was offering her.

He noticed this with a small huff. “I assume you’re very hungry. It’s food,” his hand slightly inched closer to her.

Her brows furrowed in suspicion. “W-what...” she cleared her aching, dry throat. “What did y-you do to it?”

He seemed somewhat taken aback by her accusation. “Nothing.” He turned to his left and from his pocket pulled out something else. A small container filled with water. “I’m also assuming you need this.”

She still hesitated. How could she trust him? What if he poisoned it?

He passed her a small smirk accompanied by an amused chuckle. “I don’t have to read your mind to know what you’re thinking—” he paused, leaning in slightly, and lowered his voice. “Human.” At her terrified look he nodded. “Now we have something in common. We both know what you really are.” He focused back on the water in his hand, holding it out for her to take. “Drink.”

She still didn’t move. She stared up at him with bewilderment. “W-why?” she hoarsely whispered.

“So you don’t die, human,” he muttered.

Her eyes darted over to the several eyes watching them. But no one would approach her open cell. “N-no,” she breathed. “Why should I trust y-you to not kill me?”

He smirked again at her words. “The way you humans think is funny sometimes,” he huffed in amusement. “Why would I offer you food and water—that isn’t poisoned, mind you—if I was just going to kill you anyway?”

She didn’t really have an answer. He had a point. Being as weak as she was would be the best state for him to torture her if her really wanted to. But if he wasn’t going to kill her—

“Then why help m-me?” she muttered. “What do you want?”

His brows rose up in intrigue. “There we go. We’re finally getting somewhere with that primitive brain of yours,” he mocked. He waited to observe her reaction to his little jab, and when there was none, he shrugged rather casually. “Let’s just say that in exchange for not only saving your life, but also protecting you from the incompetent brutes of this facility, you give me the chance to get to know you.”

The young woman was absolutely baffled by his response. “What the hell does that m-mean?” she asked, slightly raising her voice. “G-get to know me? W-why?”

Again, he shrugged. “The device on my ankle keeps me from using my abilities in this prison. Since I can’t use them to get into your mind like I normally would, I figured doing it the way you humans have to was my next best option.” He slightly shook his head, the same smile plastered on his dark features. “And I may be seen as otherwise in here, but I’m no savage, human. I find a fair trade for honest services still relevant despite what you may have heard about my people.”

She tried to wrap her throbbing head around what he just said to her. “S-so you’ll give food and w-water, and—” her gaze snapped over to the aliens beyond the glass walls. “And p-protection?”

He nodded. “All you have to do is answer my questions as honestly as you can, human.”

She tried to swallow as her shoulders quaked with uncertainty. “P-please,” she begged in a breathless whisper. “I don’t think anyone else h-here knows I’m—” she passed him a desperate look. “My name is Naomi.”

“Naomi?” he repeated. Hearing her name slime out of his mouth summoned a wave of goosebumps down her arms and legs. His smile widened slightly as he nodded in understanding. “And I am Malus.”

He lifted the water to her once more. Naomi reached a shaky hand to it, still somewhat hesitant. When her mind swirled she snatched it from him and began drinking. The coldness of the liquid relieved the painful tightness of her parched throat.

When she had finished every last drop, she looked to Malus. She eyed the food in his hand, but he kept it closer to himself this time. He cocked a brow at her. “Answers are your currency,” he murmured. “Answer my question, and you’ll get your food.” When she quickly nodded, he sighed. “What do you fear most?”

The excitement in his gaze caught her off guard. And she realized she had to dig deep. She had to find something that truly frightened her to satisfy his question. Everyone feared death, oblivion, and being alone. Something like that wouldn’t be enough for him.

Her eyes wandered to the glass walls that surrounded them. How they had trapped and protected her at the same time. The way someone could use it for good or evil. A way to keep someone safe from harm. Or locked away just for themselves.

A prison. Or a safeguard.

And sometimes, it was hard to find the difference between the two. It was a scary thing to not know the difference at all. For someone to use both to manipulate another.

Naomi had found her answer.

She looked Malus in the eye, and nervously swallowed. “A cage,” she whispered. “Being trapped in one. How they can be places. Or people.”

The imperium blinked in thought. His smile somewhat wavered. His hand remained where it was. Malus took in a deep breath, and nodded as he finally reached the food out to her. “Looks like we have another thing in common. Naomi.”

*******

So I thought I’d give this story a quick blurb and see where it goes...what do you think? Maybe another part? I can’t promise one anytime soon, but I hope you still enjoyed! :D

#alien #space #scifi #short story #blurb #writing #art #cartoon #artists on tumblr

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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So, what's your overall opinion on snk 139?

Something doesn’t sit well with me with how people on Twitter are complaining about 139. Personally (Hange backstory aside), it was satisfying and despite what people are saying that it ‘romanticizes genocide,’ I do not agree. I wanted to give my thoughts on the chapter overall so I decided to write it out.

In fact, I have another take on the overall message of the story and I hope people would give this a read.

Disclaimer: Sure, I am defending the story line and the ‘message’ that’s coming with it but I in no way, agree with the genocide. But there is a more nuanced take on this which I think will help people understand that there is an underlying message to all this and I wanted to just talk about it below.

Also, I found some cringe-worthy moments, I do not agree with Armin’s take on ‘Thank you for committing genocide for us’ one of the most horrible lines ever and I like to retcon that and never think about it again and I intend to read the Japanese raws though to check if it was just a translation error.

Maybe there is someone who already explored this but yeah, I’ll just write this in case no one has.

For now though, allow me to give a more detailed analysis of the message over all so people stop hating on the ending for ‘romanticizing genocide’ because I think this is a low key pretty shallow take on the whole thing and I want to provide some information, some analysis and some comparison to make people realize, this isn’t as easy as people claim it to be.

So let me start by mentioning something about the war with Marley to give people some perspective.

Yams pretty much set up a trolley problem on a wider scale and Eren was the one with the lever.

For people who don’t know what the trolley problem is, allow me to explain it below.

Here is a sample I found online: (See this link for details)

“A runaway trolley is heading down the tracks toward five workers who will all be killed if the trolley proceeds on its present course. Adam is standing next to a large switch that can divert the trolley onto a different track. The only way to save the lives of the five workers is to divert the trolley onto another track that only has one worker on it. If Adam diverts the trolley onto the other track, this one worker will die, but the other five workers will be saved.”

There are a lot of variations to this like:

“A runaway trolley is heading down the tracks toward five workers who will all be killed if the trolley proceeds on its present course. Adam is on a footbridge over the tracks, in between the approaching trolley and the five workers. Next to him on this footbridge is a stranger who happens to be very large. The only way to save the lives of the five workers is to push this stranger off the footbridge and onto the tracks below where his large body will stop the trolley. The stranger will die if Adam does this, but the five workers will be saved”

And there are so many other variations of this.

The runaway trolley is going after your mom vs. five escaped prisoners.

The runaway trolley is going after Pope Francis vs five serial killers.

These trolley problems show the moral tension between two schools of thought which are in two different ends of the moral spectrum: ‘Utilitarian ethics and ‘deontological ethics’ which are both either way, inherently flawed yet not totally bad. Utilitarian ethics focuses on the net happiness of doing an action as a determinant of whether something is good or not. So a utilitarian will find a way to kill less people and will probably go for the action which will actively kill people if it means saving others.

Deontological ethics emphasizes that the attention should be on the act in itself not the result is what makes something good. So ‘NOT pulling the lever’ even if it kills five people is the good thing to do.

The thing is, the trolley problem is not completely applicable in real life because you cannot really predict what’s gonna happen. Utilitarian ethics assumes that you will know what will happen in the end.

And here’s the thing, in the massive trolley problem created by Yams, Eren was the one with the lever. This was already proven in 138 and there were clear cut results. Eren knew what was going to happen. If he could, he would have just yeeted off to the woods with Mikasa and lived their remaining life together.

If he didn’t do anything, Paradis would have been completely destroyed and lost in five years or so. Marley was gonna overrun Paradis, the other nations were going to destroy it, take their resources and massive genocide was going to happen anyway.

Sure, Zeke and Hange offered their own suggestions to stop it. But as the founding titan, I’m sure Eren knew it probably wasn’t going to work. Because his daydream or the reality he saw where he lived in the woods with Mikasa implies that someone else took over the peace negotiations and Eren said himself, they had at least five years of peace before Marley and the other countries invade.

So with the results of both choices of the ‘trolley problem’ in Eren’s head at that time, he had a clear choice to make. Lemme quote the trolley problem again and apply it to his case.

“A runaway trolley (aka the war) is heading down the tracks towards Paradis who will all be killed if the trolley proceeds on its present course. Eren is standing next to a large switch that can divert the trolley onto a different track. The only way to save the lives of the people of his hometown is to divert the trolley onto another track that has the rest of the world (or at least the victims) on it. If Eren diverts the trolley onto the other track, the genoicde (the intended genocide), but Paradis will be saved.”

Okay fine, it looks like Eren did do something horrible because he pulled the lever and let more people die which is considered bad under the paradigm of both utilitarian and deontological ethics.

But lemme show you another variation of the trolley problem which can put Eren’s choice into perspective:

“A runaway trolley is heading down the tracks towards your beloved family who will all be killed if the trolley proceeds on its present course. You are standing next to a large switch that can divert the trolley onto a different track. The only way to save the lives of your loved ones is to divert the trolley onto another track that has complete strangers that have only hated you and are ready to fight back and kill everyone you love if you let them live. What will you do?”

This is difficult right? I don’t think it would be easy to make a choice to kill your family right?

So Eren went for the easier choice...

“A runaway trolley is heading down the tracks towards Eren’s loved ones who will all be killed if the trolley proceeds on its present course. Eren is standing next to a large switch that can divert the trolley onto a different track. The only way to save the lives of his loved ones is to divert the trolley onto another track that has complete strangers that have only hated him and are ready to fight back and kill everyone he loves if he lets them live.. So Eren diverts the trolley onto the other track, this trolley kills the current victims of the rumbling, but his hometown Paradis will be saved.”

So, what fueled Eren’s choice? Can love fuel Eren’s choice? Is love a valid reason to push or to leave the lever?

I personally believe love is the answer. But here my explanation.

Utilitarian and Deontological ethics are on two different sides of the ethical spectrum and at their extremes they are both inherently flawed paradigms to live by. Most people actually flit between the two when making decisions in morally gray situations which I believe is generally the most appropriate way to navigate ethics.

Let me introduce one new ethical paradigm to this discussion. “Aristotle ethics’ or Nicomachean ethics which claims there is a golden mean for everything. So goodness is finding that golden mean.

So I personally believe the most ethical and the best option is the finding that golden mean in between utilitarian ethics and deontological ethics, and what is the golden mean?

It’s difficult to find but I always believed the golden mean for something as complex as morality is the ‘most loving option’ but believe me, the most ‘loving option’ is very difficult thing to find.

I never believed that ‘true love’ was an emotion. I always believed love to be something born of deep discernment more than everything else. Although Eren had touched on love when he made the final decision to kill, he lacked the discernment which makes his decision still inherently flawed in the grand scheme of things.

So what was the whole point of the story?

I never believed AOT to be a manga that ‘romanticizes genocide’ regardless of what people are saying.

I think what Yams was trying to set up here, after giving Eren the very difficult decision, was ‘who set up the tracks in the first place?’

Who forced that young boy from Shinganshina to stand at the side of the tracks and have to make the decision to kill millions or to let his family die?

Was it the cycle of hatred? Was it the crapsack world that just forces everyone to be an asshole?

And the thing is, their world is a shithole. Just like ours.

Everyone is forced to do evil every once in their life (even through small ways) but it doesn’t mean that these people are completely at fault. There are structures in society that force us to do ‘evil’ to survive and the Catholic concept of social sin explains this. I won’t go into detail about this but I just want to say...

Morality is incredibly complex and I do not believe a clear cut right or wrong exist. But I believe if everyone discerned for themselves what right or wrong is, if everyone did their part to make this world a better place, maybe so many people wouldn’t be faced with their own version of the ‘trolley problem,’ maybe so many people wouldn’t be faced with the decision to make such an ethically gray and questionable decision like Eren.

So what’s the message that I believe Yams is trying to relay with his story?

Stop the cycle of hatred, start talking, start discourse. Stop fighting. And I think he has shown it multiple times with Eren and Reiner’s conversation and with Marco’s screams of ‘WE HAVEN’T EVEN TALKED THIS THROUGH YET.”

Anyway, I hope this meta or this rant whatever you think it is, just gives some new perspectives on the ending. Don’t get me wrong, Eren made a very ethically questionable decision but it had never been an easy decision to make to begin with.

And I hope this type of analysis and reflection could be useful to your own thoughts and your own ways on how you choose to navigate life.

#snk 139 #snk spoilers #snk ending #eren jaeger #meta

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that-yandere-life · 4 years

Note

Steve Rogers

[Thank you for helping me celebrate! I hope that you enjoy, and that it was what you were wanting darling!]

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

All of Steve’s experience comes from back in the day, so he is not as well educated on the proper etiquette of today. However once you explain to him what you require, and the importance of aftercare he will make sure you are taken care of.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Favorite part of his: His shoulders, for more reasons than the fact that they are strong enough to hold the weight of the world on them. Or being your shoulder to cry on whenever you need it, to being your scratching post as he is slamming into you with unparalleled force. However the main reason he likes them the most is because it’s your favorite place to fall asleep at night.

Favorite part of yours: Your lips, in fact he often finds himself subconsciously sketching them in his sketchbook. Loving the words and sounds that desperately fall from them as you two are making love. The incredible feeling of them on his own lips, or even better around his cock. ;)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Inside of you will usually be any yandere’s first choice (including him), but if you are extremely adamant against the idea he would then choose to cum in your mouth. Of course he will make you swallow it as punishment for not letting him cum inside of you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Packs a pair of your used underwear with him in his go bag if he has to leave you for any length of time. Whether he uses it to get off taking in your scent, or wrapping it around his dick knowing that where he really wanted to be had once touched that very fabric.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Yes he does have experience! He is not the virgin everyone seems to think he is. Do you really think that he wouldn’t take someone up on the offer, after getting no attention his entire life? Anyone would be oh so dedicated to helping him make up for lost time, showing him how to properly please a woman.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

The “G-Whiz” which is where your legs are up on his shoulders while he is thrusting into you, holding onto your hips where they meet him. The point of this move is that not only is it a deep penetration position, but also continuously hits your G-Spot. Bringing the maximum amount of pleasure for both of you.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Deep down Steve will always be a goofball, sweetheart, marshmallow of a person. While time has hardened him slightly, it’s mostly on the surface level. The Steve Rogers you get is what is within his heart and soul. So sometimes it might be silly, and sweet where the two of you are enjoying each other's company more than anything else. Others are so needy, desperate, and serious that his main goal is making you fall apart over and over again.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Steve is a well kept man, so this would also mean he is trimmed and kept down there as well. Although his happy trail is something he leaves in all its glory, a solid promise for what is to come.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Gets very heated in the moment, a lot of emotions coming up to the surface because he just loves you so damn much. More than he has ever loved anyone, and he truly wants to show you how he feels every time the two of you make love. Sometimes he gets lost in the lust and passion between you and it becomes more about the pleasure aspect, however the love is always there.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Only when he has to be away from you, or you aren’t feeling good. Basically when he can’t have you, he will take care of the job himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Everyone knows he has a Captain kink this isn’t news to anyone, he likes feeling like he has authority over you in the bedroom. Maybe a little bit of a complex left over from when he was small and frail, but who is to say? Really likes seeing you try on his uniform though, and attempt to wield his shield.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In the bedroom, because while he isn’t bashful by any means he doesn’t want to tarnish either of your reputations if you were caught somewhere public.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The smell of your perfume, the one you wear very rarely because it was so expensive you can’t justify using it all the time. The one reserved for special occasions, where you both dress to the nines. The one that will be the only thing you are wearing by the end of the evening. ;)

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything in public, he doesn’t mind in the privacy of a hotel, or home, but he draws the line at that. Possibly a little bit due to how he was raised honestly, brought up to always defend someone’s honor, especially of those he loved.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

The boy can do more with his tongue than just give motivation to others, he can tear you apart just to build you back up again. However he LOVES to receive, and would never turn you down if you ask him. The sight of you on your knees pleasuring him, teasing him, your tongue swirling purposefully around his shaft making him fall apart like the world no longer exists around him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Both, he wants to be sweet, but also fuck you into the mattress. It’s truly the best of both worlds, and he knows exactly when you are ready to switch it up and get off.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Ideally he likes to take his time, but if you both only have a limited amount of time and are too horny to function he will make an exception.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as it is within the confines of your bedroom he will try pretty much anything you want him to. Understanding that sex has changed quite a bit from when he was from, wanting to learn anything you are willing to teach him.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Two words: SUPER SOLDIER, he can do it all day ;) (Pun intended) But seriously, he has so much stamina it’s rare that you don’t have trouble walking the next day.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Steve would be fascinated by toys, especially the technology versus the purpose of them. So he would definitely be down to try various things you suggest, or will pick some out if you show him something he is interested in trying.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Steve doesn’t tease, and is most definitely the type to punish you if you tease him. Get ready for orgasm denial until you are damn close to shouting your safe word. Only then would he bring you over the edge.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Average level of sounds, moans, groans, praising, punishing, dirty talk. Nothing overtly loud to draw attention in any way.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Steve is a Dom, in every sense of the word. So likely your submissiveness is what got him interested in the first place. You better listen to the Captain if you know what is good for you.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Thick, beautiful, uncut cock. Above average length, think Adonis level attractive.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Much higher after he met you, before it was hit or miss depending on the moment. Having many distractions, and more important situations to deal with at the time.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Not very fast, he wants to watch you fall asleep on his shoulder. Making sure you are happy, comfortable, and feeling safe before he lets himself join you in slumber.

#yandere marvel #marvel yandere #steve rogers x reader #yandere steve rogers #yandere captain america #Anonymous

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tearsofgrace · 4 years

Text

written for suptober day 2: earth

word count: 1700, check archive for other tags!

okay i know i said i was sorry yesterday... but. this time i’m actually sorry

The other angels never got it. Why he loved it so much.

Well really, he’d never understood it either. His home was in Heaven. His family was in Heaven. Most of his eons of life had been spent in Heaven. Even God, the father he was taught to love and worship, had been in Heaven.

But Heaven wasn’t Earth.

Heaven didn’t have mountains that jutted out from the land, reaching for the sky but never quite touching it. Heaven didn’t have wide networks of rivers, snaking across continents, cutting the land deeper and deeper and forming wide gaping canyons. Heaven didn’t have entire ecosystems of life underwater carefully balanced, able to survive with the meager sunlight provided from above.

But it wasn’t just about the astonishing natural beauty of Earth. The other angels never would have understood that anyway. Awe was such a human emotion. Angels were better suited for obedience.

What drew Castiel to Earth, over and over, were the imperfections.

The way nature never quite conformed to patterns. The way flowers sprouted up across an entire field in patches, some small and some spanning miles. The way animals that could have- should have been enemies pulled together to make a better life for both of them. The way snow fell in Spring, covering the buds of green and suffocating them.

And when humans had come along, they’d tried to explain it all. Written countless equations, established rules that couldn’t be broken, scales that measured everything. They tried over and over to make sense of the world, to reign it in and fit it into their small box of human understanding. And they failed. Every single time.

And maybe that’s what fascinated Cas. Because he would never be able to understand it, to explain it, even with millions of years of experience, of divine understanding.

He loved the imperfections. The complexity. The systems that had taken on a life of their own after their creator left them.

But he loved humanity too. Long before humanity had become a very narrow word in his mind, he loved to watch people struggle to fit into the world. To watch them try and define themselves, to define others. He loved to watch them fall in love, to watch their hearts break, to watch them be lifted up and dragged back down just as quickly.

For millions of years, he thought that would be another thing he would never understand. The range of human emotion. The depth to which they can feel.

And then he’d met Dean Winchester. Or maybe met is too weak a word. He’d raised Dean Winchester from the infernos of damnation and painstakingly rearranged every atom in his body to its perfect form.

But that wasn’t what changed him. It was watching Dean. Watching him choose others over and over, watching him selflessly defend the world, watching him refuse to be controlled by the whims of those in power.

That’s what taught Cas to feel.

It was strange, at first. To be on a mission, and feel his heart crying out, yearning to be with someone else. To see an innocent lifeless before him and feel a stab of guilt, of pain for a human he had never met. To feel conflicted when he was given an order, not just confused and full of doubt as he always had been, but torn, broken, afraid to go through with what was being asked of him.

He grew to love it though. To love the joy, the elation, the swell in his breast when he looked at something beautiful. But even more he learned to love the pain, the heartbreak, the feeling of being totally alone in the world. Because they taught him. They taught him that just like Earth, humanity was not perfect, yet he loved it all the same. He fell for it- no, for him, all the same.

And now he had to leave.

It wasn’t that he feared death. He was no great loss to this world. The Winchesters, of course, would be upset. But they would move on, in time. But everyone else… they would see Castiel’s death as a triumph for Earth.

So he wasn’t afraid, not of what he would leave behind. But he wanted to stay. As selfish as it was, he didn’t want to leave. He wanted more time to roam the Earth, to discover places no man had ever set foot before, to watch the seasons change, and people change with them.

He’d known, when he made the deal, that he’d be taken. He had not known it would be so soon.

Even crouched behind Dean’s bed, both of them breathing heavily as the knocks on the door grew louder, he didn’t know why the time was now. Because he wasn’t happy. He wasn’t exactly unhappy, but there would always be that one thing, the unspoken thing that would keep him from true happiness.

And he was okay with it. He didn’t expect it. The unlikeliness of it ever happening was the reason he’d ever made the deal.

“Cas,” Dean breathed quietly, clutching his side and breathing quietly. “Are you- I mean, why is it here now? I thought you said-”

“The deal was I could live until I was truly happy,” Cas said tiredly. The last 24 hours had not been kind. He’d told the Winchester’s about his deal, which resulted in anger from Sam and numbness then tears from Dean. Which wasn’t quite how he thought it would go. But regardless, it was with heavy hearts they had all gone to bed, only to be woken by a cosmic entity a few hours later.

“And, you’re still not…” Dean trailed off. That had been the part Dean got caught up on. Not that he’d made a deal, or sacrificed himself, or had stopped the Shadow from taking Jack, but that he wasn’t happy.

“No, Dean,” Cas said quietly.

“Dammit, Cas.” There it was. That spark of anger. Dean lashing out because he didn’t know exactly what he was feeling. But there wasn’t any of the usual fire behind it, he just sounded tired.

“I’m not going to let it take you.”

“I don’t think you have a choice.”

“I’m serious, man. We can’t do this without you.”

And Cas almost laughed at that one. Of course they could. He wasn’t a necessary part of this team. His being part of it, even his desire to stay in this world, it was all selfish. He wanted to stay because he loved it, not because they loved him.

“Yes, you can.”

“Will you shut up? Look, Cas, I,” Dean took a deep breath, “I know you think of me and Sam as brothers…” Dean trailed off and Cas looked at his hands. If only it were that simple. “And I want you to know we care about you too, even if we don’t say it enough. But,” he hesitated again and Cas looked up in concern. Maybe the wound in Dean’s side was worse than he thought. Dean readjusted himself against the bed and started again. “But I cannot let you die without telling you.”

Cas barely registered the words, looking closely at Dean’s wound and resting his hand next to it to try and sense the severity with his grace. It was fading every day, but he was enough in tune with Dean that he could normally get a read on him fairly quickly.

“I love you,” Dean blurted.

The world stopped spinning. Maybe somewhere, far across the earth, someone was still breathing, still talking, still grieving, still rejoicing, still living. But in the tiny bedroom deep within the bunker, nothing moved. Dean’s steady breathing froze, Cas’ hand on his side came to a standstill, the knocking on the door went soft.

Then everything was in motion again. The knocking more insistent, pounding through the wood, the beginnings of splinters starting to form.

“I love you,” Dean repeated quietly. “And I know you don’t feel the same. But I can’t let you die- die again, without you knowing.”

And that’s when Cas felt it. More strongly than any emotion he’d ever felt, coursing through his whole body and making his lips turn up in spite of, well, everything. Happiness. Pure, simple, real happiness.

For once, he didn’t think.

He just pulled Dean toward him, tilting his chin up as he did. In his eyes, he saw nothing but trust.

Then he kissed him softly, reaching up his hand bloodied from Dean’s side to grip his shoulder. Dean melted into him immediately, a soft sigh escaping his lips. Cas squeezed him tighter, afraid to let go, afraid of what it would mean.

When he finally pulled away, he looked into Dean’s dazed eyes and smiled softly. “I love you too, Dean.”

Before the hunter had a chance to respond, the door came crashing open and Billie--no, the Shadow--came walking in.

The smile on her face was completely empty. There was absolutely nothing behind it. No anger, no malice, no joy, no mirth just… nothingness.

“It’s time, Castiel,” she said, and her voice sent shivers up Cas’ spine.

He peeled his hand off Dean’s shoulder, ignoring the bloody mark it left behind, and stood to face her. “I know.”

Dean stumbled to his feet next him. “No. Hell, no, Cas I said you were staying and you’re staying if you think I’m gonna fucking let you walk away after-”

“I made a deal, Dean.”

“So what? You aren’t gonna fight? You’re just gonna give in. Bullshit, Cas.” Dean’s voice was rising in anger, but tears were glistening in his eyes and they were wide with pain, with emotion.

Cas reached forward, wiping a tear from his face, almost letting his resolve weaken when Dean immediately leaned into his hand, desperate for contact, and then turned to face the Shadow.

She took him by the shoulders, and for a minute, he saw it all. He saw stretches of open plain, vast cities rising from the ground, a ladybug walking delicately over a strand of grass, a man picking up another man’s dropped papers, smiling at him, a wave crashing on a rocky shore. He saw Earth.

And then all of it faded from his vision and he was left with only one picture, crystal clear.

Dean Winchester, eyes widened in fear, a bloody handprint on his shoulder, reaching out desperately to save him, to raise him from eternal emptiness. He looked helpless, broken, lost. Cas wanted to run to him, to kiss him and say everything was going to be okay. But he couldn’t. Earth didn’t need him anymore. Dean’s face filled his mind and he sobbed.

Then he blinked. And everything went black.

tag list [ask to be added or removed!]:

@fandomstuff67 @menjiiii @witchyanaels @starlightcastiel @chaoticdean @larryforeveralways @starclaire @flowersforcas @tlakhtwritesdestiel @wanderingcas @prayedtoyou @good-things-do-happen-dean @jayus-fandom-writer @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @gmotheemo @starrynightdeancas

#suptober20 #destiel ficlet #destiel oneshot #supernatural #spn fanfic #destiel angst #angst #bloody handprint #hurt #major character death #my writing

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seimeinotaka · 3 years

Text

A waltz for two solo dancers (VilXFeMC)

For TwstOC Week Day 2. Relationships.

There is a lingering tension between Vil and Ann, like a waltz. A waltz for two solo dancers, each gliding at their own tune, so close yet so far. Wanting to get close, but not enough to touch each other. Yearning gazes being the only betrayal of those hidden thoughts.

Thanks to polyphenols@AO3 for beta-reading this!

Vil stood in front of Ann, fixing her tie and her hair, unaware or uncaring of the soft smile on her face. Her heart always beat this fast when she was with him, always aware of the way he made her feel.

She loved Vil deeply, ever since that day.

“That’s why I want to give my all to be able to vote for myself proudly.”

Her heart was taken by those words, the deep conviction in his heart.

But she knew things couldn't go the way she wished, because she was a person who did not deserve anything.

It was why she was content with these faint touches, these ephemeral interactions that would go nowhere. At times, it almost felt like Vil was affectionate, an elusive softness that felt like a mirage. But, even if her heart trembled, she pushed her delusions to the back of her mind while simultaneously surrendering herself to the moment until her mind reminded her of her own reality, which marred the moment with a deep shame and grief.

"I cannot enjoy this, no matter how much I desire this. No, it was wishing for anything in the first place that caused me to lose everything."

A risky double thought.

"I don’t like the Potato, Rook," Vil said dryly.

The vice leader arched his eyebrows, with a matching knowing, taunting smile.

"Sure you don't, Roi du Poison. That's why you're mesmerized by the trickster."

"How could I be?" Vil scoffed with disdain, glaring at Rook, a sign to wipe that smirk off his face. "She doesn't know her place and dares to talk back to me. She's untidy, she doesn't take care of her skin, have you seen how she's always yawning in art class?"

Rook nodded to everything he said. "Oui, she is exactly as you say. When you demand her to move, she asks you 'Why?', instead of 'Is this far enough?'. Instead of being mesmerized by your beauty, she waves you hello. You expect her to fear and respect you, admiring you from afar, but she invades your private space to tell you she doesn't like how you treat others. Didn't she tell you, 'I'm on a raid, don't interrupt me or I'll kill you' without batting an eye, when you were filming in the courtyard she was sitting in?"

"You are proving my point, Rook."

"Unyielding against your charms and uncaring at your status as the Queen. To call this a crush would be a mistake. No, your feelings run deeper than this, ahhhh~ the scorching and relentless feeling of love!"

If looks could kill, the hunter would have been buried thirteen times already, for saying something so ridiculous. Vil Schoenheit in love with her, of all people?

"The Trickster also seems interested in you."

The words aimed directly at his heart, why did he choose Rook as vice leader when he was not careful of his place? And why was everyone telling him things he didn't want to admit?

"Of course, isn't that obvious? I am Vil Schoenheit," he uttered, attempting to assert his dominance, to defend his wounded pride.

"You know that's not what I mean."

He turned his eyes away, she had seen through him, the ugliness he wanted to hide. She saw it and yet...

"Stop spouting nonsense, Rook. I'm in a foul mood. I will be in my room."

He entered his room and closed his doors, fist slamming on them. His heart ached, frowning deeply as how easily he could recall her face and her cheeky smile.

And how he desperately wanted her to look at him.

When she was nice to everyone...

How could he tell if she is looking at him...?

He slammed his fist against the door, once more hiding his blushing face on his sleeve, as he was only accompanied by the sound of his racing heart.

Her feelings were like an open box, the best way to hide something was to be upfront about everything. It was how she had managed to fool herself. Never had she tried anything to reach him, to try to get him to love her.

It was fine if her love was one-sided, as hurtful as it was.

She was okay with being just his ‘professional headache’, the girl who sometimes got scolded by him, the possible friend that sometimes hangs out with him. She enjoyed their talks, their accidental meetings, their bickering.

As long as that line was never crossed, she was fine.

There was a silly contradiction to that trail of thought. She was fully aware of her love, and always acted on it, whenever she greeted him or talked to him. Her reassurance came from the bottom of her heart. However, she had no intention of it being known, she wouldn’t go and confess to him or anyone. She was no idiot and she knew how to avoid the usual talks of romance and love between her friends. It helped that Ace and Deuce hardly talked about the matter, focusing on the day-to-day happenings, and less on whatever she was feeling.

So long she could see him, from an invisible wall she had erected to protect him, she would be fine with whatever they never were.

He was surprised to acknowledge she had similar traits to him, even if they looked like immediate opposites at first glance. She didn’t look much like it, but she favored hard work, that was his first surprise. All of her potato friends had been duped by Azul’s scheme, but she was the one who bailed them out. She had also a hidden passion as well, given her devotion to that game of hers she played, and the art she seemed fond of making. While she was young and inexperienced, given how she often lost track of time, it was precisely this trait that showed her ambition and determination. The fortitude to throw herself into a task she had to accomplish no matter what. It honestly annoyed him, she somehow thought it adequate to go to bed at unholy hours as long as she did what she wanted, her skin care be damned, but it somehow made her shine when he scolded her the next morning.

“Sorry, Vil-senpai, I was at a good part of my game and I couldn’t stop.”

With his cosmetics, he could somehow make up for a tired look on her skin, but at times, it was as if she was glowing instead. He wouldn’t have imagined she had pulled an all-nighter, even if she was supposed to be the potato and him, the beauty expert.

She did possess something he lacked. It was that kindness of hers, one not restricted to her friends. His world didn’t forgive the easily duped, the ones who did something for others, expecting nothing in return. The school they studied at held this principle deep in its roots, where being kind and soft would only leave you as prey to be used. He was far from the likes of Azul and Leona, but he wasn’t the kind to help others for no reason. To give out his secrets for free, it was a way to coddle laziness and neglect. In the industry, it was a sure way to get you killed. But it seemed this concept didn’t apply to her, as her webcomic was a way to help her study (one of the potatoes had come to read it often) and her Magicam was full of advice, the accumulated experience of a high-ranked player in her home world. Everything for free, nothing expected in return.

He himself had been on the receiving end, with her annoying encouragement and unwanted advice. With his own life being saved from overblotting, like she had saved the others. Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil. Some of them people who had attacked her or her friends. Yet she still helped them, she helped him, not asking for anything, not even a thank you. They had argued, he had been cold to her, but she still extended her hand to save him.

There was something Vil Schoenheit possessed that no one else had, a brilliance that lay deeper than his obvious beauty.

Ann knew he was beautiful, but it was the elegance he carried himself with, the strictness he had for himself and the diligence to reach his goals that made him who he was.

Vil never excused himself, taking responsibility for his faults, like his own admission of his failings for his Overblot and making amends for it. He never asked for help, he worked on his own. She had learned his father was a famous actor, and Vil, while loving him dearly, had never resorted to latching on his father’s fame as an easy way into the business industry.

Instead, he had worked hard, went to auditions and prepared himself. The few times she helped him carry props for his Film Appreciation Club, she had seen the worn out scripts, the hundreds of notes and stickers. He took care of everything with meticulous care, she might have found him rehearsing nonstop even on his busy schedule.

Vil worked out and prided himself on being perfect always, even though he was close to wearing himself thin, and it wasn’t out of simple vanity. He was complex, far from perfect, with his secret failings that didn’t make him less beautiful in her eyes. Someone who wanted to better himself, to reach perfection even if such a state was impossible from the start, how could she not love him for giving his all to a goal?

Even if he denied it, he was kind, secretly helping others being their best person they could be. As harsh and strict as he seemed, he looked out for everyone, not only those close to him or in his dorm. He wouldn’t even mind being painted as something he loathed, as long as that person got the drive to improve themselves. It was why for her, he was a true selfless hero, with shortcomings that he struggled with. And it was why she wanted him to achieve his dream, and had tried to help him in the only way she could, through words, written or spoken, and through art so that others might see him in a different light, the things Vil never mentioned about himself that were easily missed by others just looking at him at glance.

He wanted her to look at him. To praise him. To tell him he was the most beautiful.

"I don't care about your opinion. "

It was a bold lie, one to hide his own deepest feelings, the actual fear of her opinion of him. He was aware that he was in the eye of everyone, but...

He wanted to be in her eyes but feared hearing her thoughts. Because she saw right through his efforts. Through everything he did. Would she praise him?

He felt bare, exposed. And, he was unsure if he could handle her rejection. That was why he shut out her opinion fast, fearing the words he didn't want to hear.

Why wasn't she telling him he was beautiful, like everyone else? Why did she approach him easily? She didn't know her place, he kept repeating that to himself, but there was a lingering fear it was because he was nothing to her, hence why she acted so nonchalantly.

He wanted to be her very first thought in the morning and the last one at night, just as she invaded his dreams and haunted him everywhere with her presence or absence. But he couldn't easily go and tell her, "I saw you in my dreams again. We were together, you by my side, the place I yearn for you to be."

He sighed. There was no use getting upset over this. But these words didn't reach his heart, its pace increasing as he thought of her again.

(He knew that it was because she didn't say those words, that she looked deeper, focusing on his sweat, blood and tears, that he looked for her everywhere now.)

"You've worked so hard to get where you're standing on and that's really amazing."

He was in deep.

"I think your beauty doesn't only lie in how you look, you are beautiful, but it's your determination and hard work that makes you shine."

He stopped breathing when she said that, heart aching so much because she wasn't aware that her words pierced his heart, permanently latching on it like the sword in his crown. Whenever he repeated them in his mind, like a broken record, he clenched his chest, losing all strength, a sweet tasting poison that bewitched his soul. It hurts him but, he couldn't stop himself from yearning it.

"Please, look at me."

"...Please love me..."

He whispered quietly in the darkness of his empty room.

There was an irony of the Pomefiore Queen falling victim to her sweet tender poison.

(Was it really poison? Her words were sweet and gentle, beautiful and without any ill intentions. But they killed him slowly, so they might as well be the most dangerous venom in the world. And he wouldn't stop wishing for it, taking them all until there was nothing left.)

"Vil-senpai, good morning!"

She would smile brightly at him and he would avoid her eyes, feigning indifference because he couldn't hold her gaze back. He preferred to nitpick, to tell her that her lips were dry, that she should pay attention to her appearance, harshly scolding her as his hands carefully arranged her tie.

"I won't be always fixing you. You should be always presentable, what am I going to do with you?"

He fussed over her, giving her even some lipstick he had, after applying it to her lips that surely her potato friends would comment on later.

What was he going to do? Wasn't it obvious? He'd look for her next and fuss again over her appearance, because that was as close as he could allow himself to be, safely hidden by the pretense of her untidy appearance.

"Tell me, Trickster Ann-kun," Rook's piercing voice shot through the silence like the arrow from his bow. "Do you have feelings for the beautiful Vil?"

He had suddenly approached her, as she had taken a night stroll in the surroundings of Ramshackle Dorm to clear her head, even though she knew the chaos would remain.

She closed her eyes, she knew that looking away or up front would show the answer, a fawn in front of the perceptive hunter. Vil had already confronted her, her eyes telling a different story than what she wanted to say. Rook would surely suspect, no, she had a feeling he was asking to confirm his suspicions.

"What do you mean?"

"Your eyes shine the most when you are next to him, even if you then look away moments after. You approach him often, during the free times he has or even when your paths cross, in between classes and your personal activities. There's a tension, a soft lingering warmth when you talk to him. I look at Vil the most, so naturally I would notice first anything that happens around him."

She looked up at the sky, her lips drawn in a thin line. There were no stars to reflect on her eyes.

"Would it bother you?"

"Non, naturally there are many who have feelings for him. In fact, I would be most bothered if people didn't realize his beauty."

"You did mention it before, you wanted us to see his beauty back during our VDC training."

"Oui, Vil has a beauty no one else possesses. It would be foolish to ignore it when close to it. But we are not talking about me, we are talking about you, Trickster Ann-kun."

"..."

"Befitting of your name, you try to fool your opponents and the people who surround you. But you should already know I am a hunter and it's my pride to say I do not let my prey get away.”

"I had a feeling you would say that, though whatever. Whatever I feel, it doesn't really matter."

She could feel his sharp eyes on her, carefully examining her every movement, conscious or unconscious. For a moment, she thought he was concerned, but she wouldn't engage in eye contact for her sake. She knew better than engaging in a fight she would lose.

"If I like him or not, it doesn't matter. Someone like him shouldn't be with someone like me."

"Do you think of yourself as inferior to him, Trickster Ann-kun? Vil is the kind of person who can appreciate beauty, no matter how unconventional."

"I don't really know where I fall in that category, and I don't think too much about it anyway," she said with a casual shrug, but it didn't shake off Rook's inquisitive gaze.

"You should be aware that you're already someone important to him. What happened in the VDC put you in another place in his eyes."

What would it be? Vil’s overblot and her desperate tries to save him? Their talk alone after they lost the VDC? She was sure Vil couldn’t know her punching Rook was largely due to her own anger at him for doing this to Vil.

But no matter the reason, it changed nothing.

"...It's because of that...Things are fine the way they are now. I'm fine with that. "

"Perhaps you are, but what about Vil?"

She unconsciously turned to him, his green eyes revealing a strong protectiveness and concern. She winced and looked away, though perhaps she had already shown too much.

"...He is better this way. I...I don't deserve him, that's all."

"Is this why you don't grasp for him? The yearning in your eyes, you cannot hide it from me, but you don't wish to claim him."

Ann couldn’t reply, and the look in the hunter’s eyes told him he knew more, her silence a confirmation for him. He pressed for no more answers, not that she would give them. Her love was doomed from the start and she was fine with that.

“But what about Vil?”

That was the only problem, though she prayed it never happened.

The truth is, I want him to love me. I want him to hold me.

But I can’t have him.

I have to look at him from afar, no matter how much my heart aches for him.

This was a waltz for two solo dancers, each gliding at their own tune, so close yet so far. Wanting to get close, but not enough to touch each other. Yearning gazes being the only betrayal of those hidden thoughts.

His lips touched hers and a bolt of electricity passed through his body, heart aching so much, as his tight chest reminded him to breathe. Her lips were so soft and tender, and when he pulled back in shock at what he had done, her warmth lingering on his lips almost made him wish to continue. Locking mouths, their skin needing to be one, to be this close always, it was a feeling he had been blessed to have just experienced and cursed, because it would never be enough.

Especially when her eyes reflected a pain he would have never expected to see.

The one time he had let himself be overcome with emotion, his relentless feelings deciding something so bold, it had to be the time where he quietly poured them all in one action only to feel a quiet unmoving slap in the form of her gaze.

She didn't have to say anything, too shocked to move but the rejection in her eyes was more than clear, and her lingering lips on his skin added insult to the injury.

It was the pain he felt as he left the room that let him know how hard he had fallen for her, how much he yearned for her love and adoration, and it was crushing him.

"Potato."

"Huh..."

The next thing she realized was his perfume so close filling her nostrils, his soft lips on hers.

And she felt her world crumbling, the small bubble she had crafted for her delusions rupturing and bringing her to the terrible reality she had to confront.

Something took over her, a violent mix of terror and guilt, of her realizing the thing she had done and how far her silly nonsense had reached.

She wanted his love, she yearned for it deeply, but she couldn’t accept it.

Vil was in love with someone else, right? Not her, someone like Rook or someone else who deserved him.

But his lips were on hers, a delicate blessing she wasn’t worthy of receiving. Hence she could only stand in horror, unable to move or react, because what was she supposed to do?

He pulled back abruptly, his cheeks light pink and brilliant violet eyes avoiding hers. He shook his head before vanishing through the door.

She pressed her fingers on her lips, they were warm, so tempting to keep bringing back the ghost of his skin over hers, the thing she had wished deep down for so long.

But the hurt in his eyes kept haunting her, and she felt like dying.

Thank you for reading!

#twisted wonderland #twstocweek #vil schoenheit #twstoc #vil x mc #twst #rook hunt

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aot-snk-4238 · 3 years

Text

SNK Meta Part 2: Ymir

In my previous post, I talked about my feelings regarding Historia's character this final arc. Now I'm going to talk about Ymir, her relationship with Historia, and my feelings about her send-off.

Was Ymir a good character?

In my eyes, yes. When she was first introduced, it was clear that she had feelings for Historia, making her one of the only canon queer characters in the series (assuming Historia reciprocated those feelings, which I'm pretty sure she did). She also appeared very snarky and cynical, but us readers came to learn later on that there was a much softer, sensitive side to her deep down that Historia would be the first to witness. These revelations, including her backstory, helped flesh out her character in a way that made her very interesting and mysterious for me. I especially loved how sharp and intuitive she was. I'm going to quote the wiki on this part, because I think it does a great job explaining her impressive observant abilities. "Ymir was extremely perceptive and could discern the nature of the people around her with alarming accuracy, such as Historia's martyrdom mentality, Reiner's split personality disorder, and Sasha Blouse's desire to look good in front of her peers by hiding her native accent and developing an extremely formal way of speaking. Due to her experiences and belief in self-pride, she tended to rudely criticize people for being untrue to themselves. Furthermore, Ymir was very reasonable, as she knew what to do during her kidnapping situation and reconsidered her options to accomplish her goals." I also enjoyed her interactions with other characters besides Historia. Take Connie, for example. When he lamented over the possibility of his mother being stuck as a mindless titan, Ymir tried to distract him, albeit not in the most appropriate way (ch. 38).

Connie complained about this behavior later on, but Historia defended her, explaining that she was only trying to stray his thoughts from that traumatic discovery. There were a few more moments between these two that were fun to see as well.

😂😂😂. Ymir's looking at him like, "You ruined it, Connie..."

I love the way she pats him on the head. Knowing how much taller Connie's gotten I don't think she'd be able to do that anymore.

This becomes one of the many times that Connie calls her "ugly" when she's in her titan form. Too bad she couldn't talk very well as a titan or else she probably would have had a smartass remark to throw back at him. It's looking back on scenes like this where I wish we could have gotten more out of these two. You can tell she cared for Connie and I know he also cared in his own way.

We only saw her together with Eren once when Reiner and Bertholdt captured them, but it was very interesting to see their perceptions of each other.

Eren found Ymir to be mysterious and wasn't sure if he could trust her, which isn't surprising considering this was the only time they ever spoke to each other. One detail that he couldn't miss, however, was Ymir's undying determination to protect Historia, a goal they would both come to share later on. Meanwhile, Ymir couldn't trust Eren because she found him to be too reckless and hot-headed.

These were my favorite qualities from Ymir, although to this day I still question the rationality of leaving Historia behind considering the situation she's currently in. Historia herself called her an idiot after reading her goodbye letter. Now that I've covered my reasons for liking Ymir as a character, let's move on to her relationship with Historia.

Ymir and Historia

I've loved these two together since the beginning for their complex and amusing dynamic. On the surface, you had the selfish, confrontational tomboy and the girly, kind and beautiful goddess. But underneath were two young women who were dealt a dirty hand early in their life and lead empty lives as a result until they found each other. Their story arcs throughout the Clash of the Titans arc were beautiful and complimentary, and it's part of the reason why it's actually my favorite story arc in the series. Everything from Ymir seeing through Historia's charade and urging her to live her life with pride to Historia telling Ymir her real name and the two of them fighting side by side in chapter 49 was some of the most empowering moments for me and I will forever cherish those parts of the story.

Ymir's departure

And now the part I've been most excited to talk about! Ymir's glorious, memorable and emotional departure.

Her ending...was not what I expected it to be. She left Historia at the very last second and gave herself away to the enemy because she felt guilty for something that was not her fault. Now as we know, Ymir is selfless at heart and she felt indebted to Reiner and Bertholdt for inadvertently helping her return to her human form after 60 years of wandering the earth as a mindless titan. She also decided that Historia might be safe after all after learning that Eren possessed the coordinate. I understand all of that, but what I don't understand is...well...everything else.

This was Ymir's last real appearance. We see that Ymir has willingly chosen to accompany Reiner and Bertholdt back to Marley to give up her titan powers at the cost of her life. Many people weren't so sure if that was truly the last of her though, because her death was not explicitly confirmed for a long time. We spend the next 33 chapters hoping to get something more, and then this happens...

A glimmer of hope. Finally there's a real chance we'll hear from her again, and it's got a lot of people buzzing with excitement. Sure enough, we finally get to see what's in that letter a few chapters later and are given Ymir's backstory. Here's where the disappointing part comes, though. Ymir makes it clear at the beginning of her letter that she will be dead by the time Historia receives it, meaning that this is the only goodbye they're gonna get. The last time they saw each other, Ymir wasn't even in human form. Instead of a proper goodbye, all we get is a short letter. The anime even tried to fix this by giving us Ymir's backstory earlier, but by doing that, her letter was cut short by a lot. All that was really left was, "Hi babe, sorry I left you like that. Oh well, I'm about to die anyway. Sorry we couldn't get married." And then this happened:

Historia touches Ymir's letter and is suddenly bombarded with visions of Ymir's past, including her chained up and about to be eaten. That is definitely not what happened in the manga and its honestly very confusing to me. How was she able to see all of that just by touching the letter? I get that she has royal blood and was able to access memories when she touched Eren, but Eren is a human who just so happens to possess the founding titan. The letter is just a piece of paper. Also, I'm guessing the last thing Historia saw was Ymir chained up so that there will be no need to bring her up again like Reiner and Porco did in chapter 93. I don't blame the anime team for making that change because I'll be honest, when we saw that one panel of her in her death chamber it felt very out of nowhere and I had a hard time concentrating on the rest of the chapter after that. So here are my main problems with her death:

1. It was off-screen

If I recall correctly, Ymir is the only major character in the series whose death was off-screen. All we got were her final moments, and there wasn't even any dialogue. That part especially bothered me because you can see that Ymir and Porco are looking at each other and Ymir's mouth is slightly open, implying that she's speaking. But what was she saying? You seriously don't mean to tell me that they both just sat there and stared at each other the whole time. She must have had some last words, but for some reason we never got to know what they were. At one point I even thought that Historia and Porco might cross paths at some point and he would be able to give her closure that way but no. No closure, just a last minute goodbye letter and a glimpse of her final moments that I now consider completely useless and unnecessary because we never got more out of it. I mean really, we even got closure and an on-screen death for Marco for crying out loud. Why give him that kind of attention and not Ymir? Not to mention one of the more recent guidebooks. Her character has the diceased sticker and it talks about how she went back to Marley with Reiner and Bert, but that's it. Not even the guidebook makes it clear what happened next. Yeah she died, but did anything else happen before then? That's what I wish we could have gotten more details on like, I don't know....her final words???

2. It was anticlimactic

We didn't get enough focus on Ymir's point of view after leaving Paradis in order for her death to have any kind of lasting emotional impact. As I mentioned above, it just felt out of place and messy. There was nothing memorable about her death either. It was quite simple and boring.

3. It contributed to an ongoing literary issue that has anti-LGBTQ roots

Yep. I'm talking about the infamous Bury Your Gays trope. Now before I go any further, I am not accusing Isayama of being anti-LGBTQ, I'm just shedding some light on something that's been continuously repeated in countless forms of media, not just anime and manga. Truthfully, I hadn't heard about this trope before reading Attack on Titan, but when I did hear about it, it only made Ymir's death even worse for me. I'm not surprised that it exists and I realize that this is a manga where death is inevitable, but keeping both women alive in the end would have certainly been very refreshing. At this point, all I could ask for is that Ymir and Historia get to see each other one last time. Obviously since Ymir is dead it will have to be through other means and I don't care how it's done. It can be in a dream, a vision or through Paths (which I think would work best). Seriously, there's nothing I've been more curious about than how Ymir would react to Hisu's current predicament and what she would say to her. It would just be great for them to have one last conversation face to face because for me, the letter just wasn't enough. Of course I'm hoping for too much, though. We've only got 1-2% of the story remaining, leaving no room for further closure. It's disappointing and frustrating, but no story is perfect. I'm grateful for the content that we did get, but I hope one day I can find a story like this one where the queer characters get to live for once. I'm aware of other shows like Steven Universe, Adventure Time and Yuri on Ice that give them good endings, but those shows are much friendlier towards younger audiences and aren't nearly as dark and grim.

Conclusion

Ymir was a very intriguing character while we had her, but her death was unsatisfactory and only left us with more questions. I am not going to trash Isayama for it, but I will leave this critique here so I can unload all my thoughts for others to read if they wish, or possibly share their own thoughts. We are coming close to the end of the manga, so now would be a great time to reflect on what we read and enjoy what's left of it.

#snk #ymir #snk meta #snk spoilers #snk character analysis #snk manga #snk thoughts

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mbti-notes · 4 years

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What do you think is the best way to deal with the fear of things getting even more conservative and harsh? I'm so scared about the future, living in a dystopian society and having all my rights taken as a non binary queer person. Infj.

I suppose you’re referring to US politics? Please be more specific because the majority of my readership isn’t from the US. You’re asking a loaded question that basically requires me to agree with the premise that everything will be doomed. I can’t agree with that, since I purposely don’t approach politics in a reactive way.

When you’re drowning in fear, you’re not thinking straight. One of the reasons political discourse has reached the lows that it has in the US is because of incessant screaming and hyperbole. The political mediascape is a for-profit machine that is designed to work people up, manipulate their emotions, and keep them living in fear of “enemies”. This creates the mindset of being in a constant fight for survival against various abstractions of “evil”, and it’s much easier to separate you from your money when you’re so threatened that you’re willing to pay to feel safe/validated. The more that people get sucked into this war mentality, the less capable they are of making wise political decisions, since every important problem gets made into an oversimplified “wedge” issue to test your loyalty to your team.

The world is a lot more complex than red vs blue. To make a living, I have to follow news from around the world very closely. Yes, people get heated about politics, but observe the political reporting from other countries and you will see a difference in the tone and quality. In some countries, there are, gasp!, more than two viable political parties, and thus, more ideas and approaches to choose from. The US has commodified political fear and outrage like no one else by purposely pitting people against each other like rival sports teams, in a state of perpetual conflict, and, most importantly, always distracted from the underlying power structures that are making their lives worse.

To be clear, I’m not a conservative, though I’ve been surrounded and preached to by conservatives my whole life - I engage with them continuously. I am certainly angered by people being stripped of their rights and opportunities. I am certainly depressed when I see people abused and oppressed. I am certainly frustrated when my life suffers from the decisions of politicians I did not vote for. However, I staunchly defend freedom and diversity of beliefs and values. I often have to remind people that many countries and cultures around the world are conservative, and they are not abject hellscapes. Do not equate conservatism with dystopia, barbarism, fundamentalism, extremism, terrorism, xenophobia, or lord of the flies - it doesn’t matter who is doing it, hyperbole and stereotypes are dehumanizing, which enables the violence of war mentality. Conservatism, at its best, is actually needed by society to function well. Progressivism, at its best, is actually needed by society to function well. Intelligent political discourse begins with each of us getting our facts and concepts correct, otherwise, there’s no hope of cooler heads prevailing. It’s important to correctly identify the cause of a problem by labeling it properly.

Every system has flaws and every system will eventually fall apart when those flaws are left to fester and worsen. The US is supposed to be a democracy, right? A democracy is only ever as smart as the people participating in it. Can you say, with a straight face, that Americans have a deep understanding of their political system and work hard to be well-informed of all the political, economic, social, and international issues that the country grapples with? Can you say that the majority of people even understand the political terminology they use?

The US is admired around the world for its individualism. Individuals succeed and fail by their own hand. Individuals are free to pursue their own happiness and well-being. “The Land of Opportunity”, right? Americans have exported this idea, drawing immigrants from all around the world. However, individualism, taken to an extreme, exacts a very steep price. The bonds which hold individuals together to form a well-functioning society gradually weaken over time. This is a huge problem if you hope to make good collective decisions, which is what elected officials are tasked to do.

The language and currency of politics is power. With power, you get to write the rules. Without power, you are subject to someone else’s rules. It’s really that simple and crass. The purpose of there being many different voices in a discussion is to make sure that no 1 agenda/group gets to dominate the discussion and become too extreme. Opportunists, corporations, and media companies figured this out a long time ago, so they do what they can to shut down nuanced debate and discussion. They all have a deep vested interest in hyping up the individualist ethos of American culture, not because they actually care about “culture” in any noble sense, but because they know that individuals have very limited power. One person alone cannot disrupt the status quo, and keeping everyone psychologically isolated means that those with power can keep enriching themselves without disruption.

Currently, almost every major aspect of American society is designed to stop you from realizing and using your power. Media keeps you locked in fear, feeling victimized, demonizing each other. Big corporate interests keep you hyperfocused on your own emotional vulnerabilities, telling you to earn and consume your way to a false sense of power, as they quietly dismantle workplace and social supports that would preserve your actual power. The prevailing social mandate to be ever productive and “successful” keeps you running like a hamster on a wheel, with little energy to spare for anything else. You are expected, at adulthood, to become a self-made person, never having to rely on anyone for anything, thereby eroding your ties to your roots and kin. If you fail, you are shamed and dubbed a loser, and expected to redouble your efforts to chase higher social status. And some people simply choose to drop out completely, thus relinquishing any social power they had.

In US society, those in power abuse the archetype of the “individual” and the virtue of “independence” to siphon more and more power. Individualism, in its most immature form, is really just self-centeredness. Everyone is only out for themselves and grabbing what they can before someone else does. People fight each other for scraps. And the ultimate goal of life is to have more than the people around you, such that you have the power and privilege to shield yourself from the other hungry dogs. There is no bigger picture to aspire to beyond one’s own survival and daily pleasures. If this is the underlying ethos of your society, are you surprised that the political system reflects it? A lot of people around the world look at the US and mostly see a bunch of immature adolescents.

Transcending social forces isn’t easy. Power is always unevenly distributed, so it is always ripe for abuse, and fighting against abuses of power requires sustained effort. Therefore, it’s important to understand the many ways that power is used to oppress. I’ve spent a lot of time studying historical movements, political philosophy, and power dynamics, so my view of politics is always the long view. I believe that political progress is constant work. I don’t believe in end goals or being free to rest on your laurels. I believe history teaches us that, whatever your political allegiances, the complacent eventually become the victims. I believe that social change is relatively easy to understand by observing the way that power changes hands in society.

Politics boils down to an endless series of change-and-backlash sequences. Whenever one group takes a significant political step, someone somewhere will lose out on some power and privilege, and they’re not going to take it lying down. Fear and anger drive the changes, and fear and anger drive the backlashes. Rinse and repeat. When the tide turns against you, it only means that it’s your turn to step up again. Fear and anger are not reasons to give up, rather, they are the wake up call that spurs the next round of changes. From conflict comes motivation.

Political power is gained through organization. The fastest way to accumulate power, especially in a democracy, is to stand together and pool your resources. But what is the motivation for organizing? Usually anger. Civil rights are never won by waiting around for the privileged to relinquish their power. No, people get together to claim their rights, DEMAND change, and MAKE the changes that they want to see, refusing to surrender to oppression. They loudly infiltrate social spaces, influence officials, run for office as representatives, and accumulate the political power to rewrite the rules. This is true whatever your political stripe. This is what conservatives have excelled at for the past thirty years in the US.

However, as soon as you change the status quo, there will always be people that want to reverse it. It is difficult for younger people to grasp, but politics has no end, it is merely an ongoing struggle for power, as power changes hands from the complacent to the aggrieved, and then back again. For example, LGBTQ people view a right-dominated supreme court as a danger to their existence, for good reason, and that should motivate them to fight back even harder to reclaim their right to equality. Conservatives view a right-dominated supreme court as progress, and having achieved that success, they will become complacent, which provides the opening for progressives to regroup and rise again.

The only escape from this cycle comes in the form of death or transcendence. To transcend means to see the bigger picture of what can be achieved, so that you are able to set aside the petty and work for something greater. Human beings have had their transcendent moments here and there throughout history, so they are certainly capable of it. Progress on civil rights has indeed been made over many decades, but there is always more work to do, as long as there are people that don’t view it as “progress”. For example, the fact that, after decades of tireless activism, the majority of Americans now support same-sex marriage, is something you should be building upon, rather than only focusing on the setbacks.

If you think that I’m singling out the US, I’m not. Oppression happens everywhere. It is a part of human nature to be egotistical, complacent, and short-sighted. But that’s not the only part of humans. For a democracy to work at its best, we have to appeal to the better parts of our human nature, i.e., the parts of us that: understand and care about how we affect each other, appreciate hard-won freedoms and never take them for granted, and envision a better future and plan well for it. The best changes come from passion and inspiration - not fear and anger. If you, as an individual, are not capable of bringing out and offering up your own better nature by transcending the worst parts of yourself, you can’t really expect the sociopolitical system to be capable of it, either. If you, as an individual, always lose sight of the bigger picture that you’re aiming for, then how will you help others see the importance of your cause?

Gandhi said: “We but mirror the world. All the tendencies present in the outer world are to be found in the world of our body. If we could change ourselves, the tendencies in the world would also change. As a man changes his own nature, so does the attitude of the world change towards him. This is the divine mystery supreme. A wonderful thing it is and the source of our happiness. We need not wait to see what others do.”

IMO, the job of a good citizen involves: 1) caring about the broader impact that your vote has and educating yourself properly so that you make wise voting decisions, 2) exercising your power by actively participating in organizations that advocate for the changes that you want, and 3) having enough self-awareness to avoid being emotionally manipulated into making destructive political judgments. Humans aren’t perfect, but they don’t have to be to create a well-functioning society. Humans make better decisions when the social atmosphere encourages them to open up the mind and heart. We all have a part to play in creating an encouraging social atmosphere for people to deliberate more carefully on their political beliefs.

Are you an unwitting pawn of the media, rewarding the players that only care about getting your eyeballs for ad revenue? Are you only caring about political issues because you read something that incited your outrage? Are you resigned to cynicism, indifference, gloom, or paranoia? Are you all about “owning the enemy”? Are you only concerned about your own prospects in life? Are you waiting helplessly for someone to hand you what you deserve?

OR: Are you joining organizations that create positive change? Are you listening to the experiences of the people around you and understanding how their reality informs their politics? Are you doing the hard work of inspiring the people around you to be their better selves? Do you hope that everyone in your country has a chance to live their best life? Do you stand up to support people in need and work to eliminate injustice? Will you learn the best way to (re)claim what is owed to you from those that deny or oppress you?

You are only one person, so your power is limited. What are you doing to amplify your voice and extend the reach of your power? Are you dying or transcending? A democracy is only ever as strong as the people participating in it.

#politics #lgbtq #history #conflict #power #media #social media #ask

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rachelbethhines · 4 years

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Tangled Salt Marathon - One Angry Princess

There’s two halves to this episode. The first is a well constructed, if over simple, mystery for the kiddos to solve. The other is a failed attempt at being ‘deep’ and ‘mature’.

Summary: Attila is finally opening up his own bakery, but people generally don't want to stop by because of his scary helmet. The next day, Monty's Sweet Shoppe is destroyed, and Attila is arrested. He is about to be banished from the kingdom, but Rapunzel makes an appeal to investigate the matter further.

The Episode is Meant to be a Homage to 12 Angry Men, but Misses the Point of the Original Film

So for those who haven’t seen the movie, (though really you should) 12 Angry Men is about a jury trying to decide if an accused person is guilty of a violent crime. At first the evidence seems clear, but one lone juror refuses to vote guilty until the evidence has been gone over again. One by one he convinces the other men to vote not guilty as they each have to face they’re own personal biases.

Sound familiar?

In the show Rapunzel is the sole believer in Attila’s innocence despite evidence to the contrary. She insists on investigating herself while challenging everyone else’s personal biases.

The difference?

12 Angry Men is a hard hitting look at how privilege, prejudice, and cognitive bias can interfere with the American judicial system. None of the jurors are named, but they are all middle class, presumably Christian, white guys. And that is the point. They are all different from the accused; a young, poor, arguably non-white teen (the play is intentionally vague about the kid’s race so that you can slot any minority in there) who has a history of getting into trouble. If you were to change the ethnicity, race, gender, class, or age of any of the 12 characters then you would suddenly have a very different story. It’s their backgrounds and pre-formed opinions that inform their decisions. Even the main protagonist is not exempt from re-examining his own personal biases.

Meanwhile the writers of Tangled: the Series are too busy showing off how clever Rapunzel is to actually deal with the themes of injustice and bigotry that they added in themselves in the first place.

Rapunzel Knowing Attila Before Hand Weakens the Message

In 12 Angry Men none of the jurors know the accuse. In fact, they can’t know him. It’s against the law. In order to have an impartial jury, no one can have any ties to either the defendant or the prosecution, and they must not have knowledge of the case or have had specific experiences that might cause them to be biased or unfair.

Rapunzel being Attila’s friend means that she already has her own bias and an invested interest in making sure Attila goes free. She’s not acting out of the simple goodness of her heart here. She’s doing something that directly benefits herself.

I don’t expect a children’s fantasy show to recreate the US judicial system with all of the complexities there in, but I do expect it to uphold it’s heroine as the selfless person it claims her to be. Yet the show constantly undermines this supposed character trait by only having her help the people she befriends, and only if that help doesn’t require anything emotionally challenging or mentally taxing from her.

How much more powerful would this episode be if Rapunzel was defending a stranger or someone she actively disliked? Imagine if it was Monty who was being accuse and Raps had to swallow her pride in order to do what is right. But that would require the show having Rapunzel actually learn something instead of placing her on a pedestal. It would also mean giving Monty a reason to exist rather than keeping him around to be a convenient red herring.

Rapunzel Shouldn’t Have to Prove Attila’s Innocence

Rather than have a courtroom drama the show opts to have a ‘whodunit’ story instead. This unfortunately gives the implication that Corona’s judicial system runs on a ‘guilty until proven innocent’ mantra, which is backwards to any humane legal system. ‘Innocent until proven guilty’, ‘reasonable doubt’, ‘due process’, are the cornerstones of our modern social ethics.

In 12 Angry Men, we never find out if the accused actually committed the crime or not. That is because his actual innocence isn’t the point of the story. It’s about whether or not the system is working like it should or if it’s being compromised by human error.

Once again, I don’t expect a recreation of the US judicial system, but if you’re writing a story for a modern audience then you need to reinforce modern morals. Simply crouching Corona’s legal system as ‘of the times’ or ‘fantasy’ while ignoring why we no longer have such systems in place reduces the story to puerile fare.

It also means that show’s writers didn’t put enough thought into their world building.

No One Calls Out the Obviously Corrupt System

The show has interwoven throughout its ongoing narrative themes of classism, injustice, abuse, and authoritarianism, but then fails to follow through on those themes by not having any of the protagonists actually examine any of these issues. They just sit there in the background, even as the show tries it darndest to present Rapunzel as an arbiter of reform. However a person can’t bring about change if they can’t even admit that there is a problem to begin with.

In this episode alone we have

Banishment is considered a reasonable punishment for an act of vandalism. A crime that is usually considered only a misdemeanor unless the damage goes over a certain amount. Keep in mind that not even most felonies would be given such a punishment in the real world

Introduces the prison barge that regularly carries away convicts. In the past ‘undesirables’ would be shipped off to prison colonies as a form of persecution. Attila and every other person we see subjected to Corona’s legal system are of a lower class.

Many prejudge Attila based off his appearance, lower class, and past upbringing. However, it is either Attila who is expected to change or Rapunzel who is expected to win people over. At no point is anyone told that they shouldn’t be prejudiced to begin with.

There is no judge, jury, or lawyers. The king alone decides the fate of criminals, the Captain is expected to be the both the prosecutor and the ‘executioner’, which is a conflict of interest, and the defendant has no one to represent them unless they so happen to know a kind statesperson. Meaning you have to be either rich or well connected in order to even have a chance to defend yourself.

Oh and there’s this...

Uh, yeah you do. You’re the flipping king. You make the law. You’re the one to bring charges against Attila, and nearly every other criminal in the show, in the first place.

The show constantly wants us to view Frederic as simply an everyman who is only doing his job, but he’s not. He’s a ruler and as such he has powers and responsibilities that no one else has or ever will have. The series gives both him and Rapunzel all of the privileges of being in charge without holding them to account for the consequences of their actions.

By not pointing out how wrong these actions are, the show winds up avocating them instead. When I call Tangled the Series authoritarian, this is why. Because authority is never questioned even when clearly wrong and nepotism is presented as the solution to conflicts as oppose to being the problem itself.

The Show Introduces Complex Issues but Then Oversimplifies the Conflicts Surrounding Those Issues

The creators of the show have constantly declared that the series is ‘not for kids’. That they were shooting for an older audience than the pre-school time slot they were given. Now ignoring the fact that Tangled was always going to have a built in audince of pre-teen girls and ignoring that children’s media can be mature, TTS lacks the nuance needed to viewed as anything other than a pantomime.

As stated before, this episode alone ignores the very real issues interlaced within the conflict in order to give us an overly simple mystery that anyone over the age of five could figure out.

It’s frustrating to watch the show constantly skirt towards the edge of complexity only to see it chicken out and go for the low hanging fruit instead. As a consequence the series winds up being for no one. Too shallow for adults and older teens, but too confused in its morals to be shown to small children and younger adolescents.

I wouldn’t recommend this show to a parent, not without encouraging them to view the series either before or alongside their child in order to counteract it’s ‘lessons’ and I know parents within the fandom itself who’ve stopped showing newer episodes to their kids; stating that they want their child to be old enough to point out the harmful messages to before doing so.

Once Again No One Learns Anything

Rapunzel doesn’t learn that the system is flawed. Attila doesn’t learn to open up to people. Nobody learns to treat people with respect and to not judge others based on appearances alone.

The whole point of the episode is to just show off how much ‘better’ Rapunzel is than everyone else. The show constantly feels the need to tear down other characters in an effort to make its favs look good as opposed to just letting the mains grow as people.

Conclusion

Tangled the tv series is no 12 Angry Men. It’s no Steven Universe/Gravity Falls/Avatar:TLA/She-Ra/Gargoyles/Batman:TAS either. It barely reaches the same level as the likes of DnD, Sonic SATAM, or Voltron. Interesting ideas but poor pacing, build up, and lack of follow through, with some naff decisions thrown into the mix bring things down in quality. And unlike the Dungeons and Dragons cartoon from the early 80s, TTS lacks the benefit of being a pioneer in the field of animation, where such flaws are more forgivable.

#tangled #anti-tangled #Rapunzel #rapunzel's tangled adventure #king frederic #critique #salt

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peacefulwriter88 · 4 years

Text

One Man Show

A Gemini Flanagan One Shot

Nick “Gemini” Flangan x Reader

Warnings: Angst (fun banter), sexual innuedos, stripping, nothing crazy

Banner made by @peacefulwriter88

_______________

You didn’t want to be here.

The townhome that you and your roommate had decided to crash for what you thought was going to be drinks with a few close friends had turned into a full blown house party and it was burning up. You automatically regret wearing the leather clad leggings you had squirmed your ass into, the low and loose v-neck white lace and silk tank top that you had paired with heels. It was hot as hell with all the extra body heat and it causes sweat beads to build up across your arm and roll down into the intimate crevices of your body.

Your best friend Gen was pushing her way through the crowded room, two red solo cups she had picked up the minute you had both walked in still full and balanced as you both elbowed your way out to the balcony.

There are less people out here, practically abandoned and it allows you both to drink in the scenery of your small college town. Chris and his roommate lived on the third floor of the townhome complex, which provided a great view of the busy street below them, of the night stars and other shenanigans that happened on a college campus.

“Geezus I thought Beck was throwing a ‘small, intimate affair’” you breathe out, grabbing your cup of ale and taking a large sip out of it. Gen shakes her head as she takes a large gulp of her beer.

“You know Beck. He tells one person, who tells another, who tells another ....”

You roll your eyes. Gen and your childhood best friend Chris Beck had discovered their male and female attraction towards each other and the whole exchange had become them ickily defending the other.

“Right. Despite his annoying sense of inviting everyone to everything all the got damn time.”

“You’re just jealous.” Gen teases, taking a sip of her drink and you roll your eyes.

“Puhlease. Of you and Beck? I’d sooner get blasted into space then be the envy of his affections.”

Gen starts to say something before she pauses and she turns out towards College Ave, taking one last sip before letting out, “Speaking of affections- you’re little fuck friend spotted you.”

Your eyes snap out through the glass balcony doors, surveying the group of co-eds who were dancing in the jammed space of the apartment. It doesn’t take long for you to find the lean frame of Nick Flanigan.

Nick was the kind of guy who felt like an enigma because of his boy next door personality that mingled deeply with a bro like deposition. It couldn’t be helped - not with his genetics. He had a tall frame that was lean and muscular that you knew up close and personal - ocean blue eyes that were kind and playful and paired with dark, sandy hair it was easy to pick him out from the crowded room.

He was also one of the kindest people you knew. Despite being known for his playboy tendencies (he was hyper focused on his education but was a notorious flirt) he was kind to every girl he hooked up with; the kind of guy who listened to girls cry to him drunkenly at 3 am and gave nothing but comfort & apologies.

Which is why you didn’t believe Gen or Chris that Nick had a big, fat crush on you that was amplified after hooking up drunk three weeks ago.

It was also the same reason why you had avoided him during that time.

Except you couldn’t avoid his eyes as they duplicated yours in surveying the room and drinking in the crowd, half bored - half amused.

When they land on yours he pauses, a small smile forming on his plump lips as he raises his drink and waves.

You try to fight the urge to wave back but you feel your stupid fucking hand lifting, giving a semi similar awkward wave back.

“You talk to him since you randomly hooked up a few weeks back.” Gen has turned around, taking another large sip of her beer and smirking as she watches the exchange and you shake your head as you turn away, moving to the balcony rails and looking out into the distance. It was a warm spring night, the kind where young college shenanigans brewed deep in the night.

“Nooooooppppppeee.” you pop the p, loud and clear and Gen giggles into her cup as she murmurs,

“Well pony up because your dude is coming our way.”

You snap your head around, drinking in the way Nick awkwardly dances through the crowd with two large solo cups in hand. Chris, his roommate and good friend notices the shift in Nick’s deposition as he tries to quickly cross the room and he smiles to himself, shaking his head.

To be a prisoner to love was to be a prisoner to self.

He had been stuck hearing his roommate bitch and moan about you for three weeks - how could one guy who had literally been voted the hottest guy on campus who had every girl falling at his feet be such a pussy willow when it came to one of his closest childhood friends?

He’d never know and he blamed it all on the imputable equation that was the heart.

Nick makes its there in expert time, a smug smile on his face as he crosses the threshold, slightly out of breath,

“Hey Y/N. When did you get here?”

You shrug, tipping back the rest of your drink and shrugging,

“Just a few minutes ago.”

“Ah. Glad you could make it…..and sorry it's turned into this huge thing. Chris really wanted it to be small but you know how it goes when your the party guy on campus - one person finds out and it all goes up in flames.” he hands over the extra red solo cup to you and you take it graciously, surprised to find that instead of the cheap ale that you had just been sipping on its filled with Corona.

“It's from my special stash.” he winks at you and Gen punches his arm, shaking her head,

“What am I - chopped liver? Hello Nicholas.”

Nick rolls his eyes but still smiles down at Gen as he leans over and gives her a quick squeeze, eyes flitting back to you,

“Hey Gen. How are you?”

“Great. Wish you’d bought me a beer like you did my roomie.”

You roll your eyes, Gen was always fishing for attention if it wasn’t given to her and you lift the red solo cup,

“Thanks for this. Might’ve ditched if I would've been forced to drink more keystone.”

“You are such a debbie downer.”

You all shift your eyes to the door that Chris is leaning and smiling ruefully against.

“You invite the whole damn campus Beck?” Gen walks toward him, not ashamed to place a kiss on his lips. Despite knowing their attraction to each other you still couldn’t move past it…...you still didn’t understand how one idiot could handle being with another idiot.

Love - the quadratic equation that had no founding answer.

“Nooooooo I invited twenty people and they invited people who invited people. I can’t help it that I’m popular.”

You roll your eyes as you lean on the balcony and Chris moves past Gen, bringing out the blunt that he had been working on inside and lifting it, the same rue smile on his lips,

“Want to share?”

“Gawd Beck really? Already?” Nick chuckles lowly, shifting next to you.

Nick wasn’t necessarily against puffing up, but when he was trying to impress the girl he had a crush on getting high and making a fool of himself was at the bottom of his list.

“C’mon don’t be a downer.” Chris says, pulling out a lighter and moving towards where you stand, Gen hot on his heels.

“We would love to get high Beck. You always have the best weed.” Gen is eager, falls easily into his side as he wraps an arm around her hips, dragging her closer as he takes a deep drag of the joint. He releases it in the air, falling easily into Gen’s side.

“Agreed. It's been a helluva week.” you snatch the weed from Chris hands, taking a deep puff and allowing the smoke to fill your lungs.

“How come?” you had forgotten about Nick, about how close he had been standing next to you as he laces his hand through yours as he takes the joint from your fingers.

“Lots of fucking quizzes and fucking biochemistry.” you mutter and Chris laughs, his eyes averting to the loud yelling coming from inside.

“Aww shit, someone found the beer pong table.” He mutters and Gens eyes light up.

“Oooo, lets gooo.” Gen pulls away from Chris, attention already averted and Chris sighs because he already foresees the night he is going to have.

“Guess we’re going in. You kids care to join?”

You roll your eyes - Chris could be so fucking annoying sometimes - and you shake your head as you flicker your eyes over at Nick.

“No, that's a hard pass for me.”

Chris looks over at Nick, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah - me too.”

“All right…” Chris says, shutting the balcony doors and leaving the two of you alone.

You both drink in the silence of the night; of cars driving by and the other patrons on the street laughing as they allow the semi early night to set in for themselves. It was darker out here, minus the small balcony light and it made you feel safe standing alongside nick.

“.....you wanna get away from all of this?”

The thought comes from Nick as he leans on the rail like you had earlier, his eyes focused ahead. You watch him thoughtfully, how his trained eyes glimmer a dark indigo in this light, half hooded from the cannabis and you bite your lip, looking back at the party.

The only real reason you had come was for him - he was sure to know that as much as you did even though parts of you kept denying it and you nod as you take one last drag of the joint.

Chris Beck could be annoying as fuck but he did roll the best joints.

“Yeah,” you huff out into the cool spring air. “Yeah I do.”

_____________________

The escape comes in the form of Nick’s room. You hadn’t ever been inside the four walls - he had hooked up at your place and done the walk of shame the next morning so you’re both equal parts intrigued and anxious to be caged in a room with him.

Nick locks the door behind him - he had really hoped that he could get you to go somewhere else alone but he also knew that it was a miracle you had showed up at the party in the first place. You had done an effective three weeks of avoiding him - he had to give you that - and he wanted to bank on any time he could get with you one on one.

He watches as you walk around the room, drinking in the space. The walls were framed with professional photos of space engines and ships - you knew he wanted to become an engineer for NASA but you didn’t take him seriously, not with his jock like demeanor - a poster of a British theatrical production of Othello, another one of Apollo 13.

He has pictures of his family - there is one in particular with him and what looks like another brother and sister all smiling goofily into the camera from Disneyworld that makes you smile to yourself. There are more pictures of him with family, friends and you smile as you turn to him as he looks at you from the safety of his bed.

“You’re room…..isn’t what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting? He asks and you shrug as you turn back at his desk, neat and organized - a tall bookshelf full of both school books and those of pleasure. You capture a few fantasy books and make a mental note to ask him about that as you answer,

“I don't know. Pictures of hot girls and a bong and just a big mess I guess.”

You move over toward his stereo - correction record player and start shifting through his vinyl. Yeah - definitely not what you were expecting. Between the Red Hot Chili Peppers and 2Pac albums he also had Phantogram and Lana del Rey and a fresh vinyl of Ginune’s Pony was currently in the player.

Did you ever know who Nick was?

“I hate messes. Makes me anxious.” he says, moving off his bed to open a window. He still has the joint, finds a lighter off his desk and lights it - takes a deep drag. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous - perhaps because he wanted more than just a one night stand. Perhaps because he couldn’t get you out of his head for weeks - wanted to get to know more of you - and he didn't know what to make of that.

Nick was known for not settling.

With you, though, he felt butterflies.

“Oh. my. God.” your voice is low and incredulous - its sexy - and he turns around in time to see you pulling out the 4x6 he had sworn to himself was hidden under piles of books.

Instead, a nice thick stack was staring at him. On the card was him, in boxers dragged real low, an exposed torso as he looks seductively into the camera lens. At the bottom of the card read “Gemini Flanigan”.

You pick up the card, eyebrows raised as you ask,

“Gemini Flanigan?”

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck - this was the last thing he wanted to explain tonight. But here he was in a pickle because he couldn’t deny that it was him - couldn’t deny that it was his eyes staring back at him and he shakes his head.

What does one say when the girl they like finds their deepest secret - that only their roommate knew about.

“Geminin Flanigan to join our Magic Hour lineup, exclusively this Saturday ……” your voice fades as you clear your throat. He knows what you’re going to ask next so he blurts it out,

“I’m a male dancer. It's my job….you know…..helps pay for things.”

“You’re a male dancer?” you repeat and he nods, grabbing the cards - and stacks - and ditching them into a drawer in his desk.

“Yeah. I…...well like I dance for ladies. Usually old cougars who tip well on the weekends. It's a good gig - I make good money and it helps to pay off my tuition, other bills. Helps my parents out you know - they couldn't afford to send me to college. I have three other siblings…..” he’s rambling, he knows, but he can’t help it - he’s so fucking embarassed.

How, how did he mistake where those fucking cards were.

He’s so distracted he misses the way that you walk up to him, placing a tender hand on his lips as you whisper,

“Hey, it's okay. I get it. We all are trying to make it.”

He looks down at you, looks down at the way your hand has softly rested on his left pectoral, the other still lightly pressing on his lips and you clear your throat, pull away as you walk toward the bed. You bite your lip, dip your head to the side as you whisper,

“But I require a small fee if you expect me not to share your dirty little secret.”

Nick takes a deep breath swallowing as he watches you cross your legs, right eyebrow raised in expectancy.

Somehow he knew this small fee would be nothing but.

______________________

You don’t know how you get yourself into these messes. You don’t even understand why you boldly whispered out the words but they had slipped out

‘I won’t tell your dirty little secret if you give me a show. Tell me - what does Geminin Flanigan have in store for his 40 year old ladies.’

Perhaps it was because you didn’t know when to shut up. Or perhaps the universe hated you.

Yeah that was it. The universe was getting back to you.

You didn’t care. In fact, you were grateful for the universe. And for Chris Beck. Stupid Chris Beck has finally come through to make up for all of the bullshit he’s put you through.

Nick “Gemini” Flanagan, your best friends roommate and the keeper of your heart had two pairs of jean clad thighs on each side of your body, his six packed torso disguised by a wife beater he had right in your face as his hands planted themselves on each side of your body.

You try to focus on your senses - on the way the smell of his cologne tickled your nostrils - ignited with the crisp smell of bergamot and musk, basil and something clean that caused your skin to outbreak in goosebumps.

He’s watching you with the same intense look he had weeks ago - ocean blue eyes blown now to a dangerous shade of indigo just on the precipice of black in the small light as his legs widen, his hands gripping your sides. He slides lower until his face is between your legs and he widens them, causing you to gasp suddenly before he takes a large sniff before pulling away from you.

He’s moving faster now, controlled and rhythmic and you’re bought into the spell - when did Nick know how to dance? - before he’s doing an acrobatic black flip in the tight space perfectly falling on top of your crotch, causing your laughter to mingle with the sounds of R&B from the 90’s vinyl record he had put on, a sharp contrast to the house music that was playing right outside your door.

He grinds into your center, you try not to focus on how his erection bites into - the taut muscles of his ass that was dancing before your eyes before he moves up onto your lap with a final two grinds.

He kicks off you easily, turning and giving you dark, sultry eyes as he takes off the remains of his shirt, throwing it over his head walking to you slowly.

Sleuthly.

Panther like.

Before you can blink he’s grabbed your hips and you fall forward as he falls backwards perfectly, your hips falling perfectly on top of his manhood and he grinds hard into you before he's rolling you onto your stomach, his hands coming around your neck as he moves his hips rhythmically into your ass and you can’t help the groan that escapes on a particular thrust.

He smacks your ass as he pulls you back - at this point you’ve just embraced the knowledge that you are going to be a ragdoll in this man’s arms.

Never too old to experience firsts.

He's pulled you both into his lap where he takes slow thrusts, his hands finding your breast and kneading them slowly, causing your head to fall back onto his shoulder, an unabashed groan escaping as his hips continue to slowly thrust into your back side. Your leather clad legs are soaked, the silk white shirt sweated through at this point as his lips find your pulse point and whisper,

“That's premium material I just gave you…..how do you expect to pay me back?”

Nick Flanagan - the guy who was built like a Hollywood model being dominate was not what you were used to. You were used to shy, humble Nick who could barely look in your eye despite his playboy reputation, a small blush always hitting his cheeks and you moan as you grind into him, turning your head.

“I can think of some ways.”

_________

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mdelpin · 4 years

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The Red Dragon - Chapter 24

AO3 | FF.Net | Tumblr: Ch1 | Ch23

It had been weeks since Gray had seen any hint of Fukou. The first few days after their confrontation the dragon would still fly over the village on the way to the mountain and perform aerials for the kids when they cheered for him, but Gray could tell these were lackluster at best, and a strange feeling of sadness would come over him as he saw this.

He had enjoyed watching the dragon dance in the air, and he was fairly certain the change in Fukou’s behavior was his fault. He had been unnecessarily cruel to a creature that had done nothing but protect him and the village on multiple occasions, and he felt a small level of shame for his actions, although not enough to seek Fukou out and apologize.

The idea that dragons were capable of being hurt by something as simple as words was something Gray had trouble accepting. His natural stubbornness still determined to question everything he'd learned about dragons from Wendy and the other slayers and even what he had seen through Happy’s actions.

Lyon had told him a long time ago that maybe he needed to limit his hatred to the one dragon who deserved it, and Gray was grudgingly beginning to understand that his brother might have been on to something. The hatred he held on to continued to cause him nothing but trouble, creating a wedge between him and his mate and causing him to lash out at innocent creatures.

But it wasn’t a switch he could easily turn off. Deep down, Gray knew that the only way he could truly overcome his hatred of dragons was to deal with the underlying trauma of what had happened to him, and he wasn’t sure he could do that yet.

Life in the village slowly went back to normal, their surroundings soon turning gloomy as the only speck of color to be seen for miles came from the evergreen trees that grew in the forest near the base of the mountain. The villagers busied themselves with preparations for the snow that would signal the beginning of the winter months.

Occasionally they would catch sight of a red dragon flying towards the mountain, but this one was smaller, making Gray think it might be Happy. Fukou was nowhere to be seen, and Gray was able to put him out of his mind for a while.

He’d begun taking a lot of solo jobs, determined to help Lyon pay for the new house he would move into with Erza, as well as help him furnish it. He was fully aware that part of the reason for doing so was his need to live vicariously through his brother, who was getting ready to embark on the life that Gray desperately wanted to live with Natsu. Either way, he was running himself ragged between those jobs and keeping up with his regular guard schedule.

Which is how he suddenly found himself faced by a group of bandits determined to separate him from his hard-earned jewels. At first, Gray wasn’t overly concerned, he was a powerful mage after all, but he soon realized he’d used up most of his magic fighting off that chimera that had been terrorizing Aster, a larger town a few days walk from Talos. He’d have to rely on his fighting skills to get out of this one.

Gray called on just enough magic to mold his Cold Excalibur and immediately went on the offensive, not wanting to give his attackers a chance to surround him. He fought hard for what felt like forever was probably no more than ten minutes.

Slashing in all directions, he attempted to keep a healthy distance between himself and his attackers, but his efforts weren’t enough. No matter how many bandits he managed to incapacitate they were immediately replaced by others. And as he felt himself losing more blood from the stabs that he hadn’t been able to defend against, Gray worried he might not be able to get out of this one.

He cried out in pain as he felt another blade pierce his back, his fingers coming away coated in blood as he once again tried but failed to ice his wounds. His legs gave out from under him, and all he could think was what a stupid way this was to die, alone in some random field. Lyon and Natsu would never forgive him.

His thoughts remained with Natsu, calling to him, telling him how much he loved him and how sorry he was, utterly oblivious to the sound of loud roars behind him or the screams of panic from his attackers or even the fact that the field he was on had somehow burst into flames.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” A voice yelled, surprising Gray with the fury behind it. He turned his head slowly, coming face to face with an enraged Fukou. “When are you going to stop being so reckless?! I’m not always going to be around to save your ass.”

Gray blinked slowly, having a hard time understanding what was happening.

Fukou appeared frantic, eyeing the flames that were getting ever closer. “Climb on!”

“What?”

“Climb on! We have to get out of here, this is my fire, I can’t eat it.”

“No,” Gray protested weakly but with no less determination.

“We don’t have time for your bullshit,” Fukou shrieked, and when Gray refused to move, he launched himself into the air, quickly diving to grab Gray in his talons before flying them away from the blazing inferno.

“Let go!” Gray yelled, thrashing as the harsh wind acted against his wounds, “You’re hurting me!”

That seemed to get Fukou’s attention, and Gray could hear him cursing loudly, the sound of it amusing him slightly.

“If you weren’t so fucking stubborn, you could be riding on my back, where I could protect you from the wind.”

Gray screamed in agony, the pain too much for him to handle. He could feel them losing altitude, the ground looming ever nearer until he felt Fukou land using only his rear legs, his muscles tensing as he tried to keep his balance. He released Gray, gently placing him on a soft grassy area.

Gray took a moment to look at the dragon who had once again come to his aid. He was shocked to see the amount of anger still present in the creature’s eyes, although he was taking deep breaths, almost as if trying to calm himself down.

His eyes shone a beautiful shade of emerald green, and his talons glowed with a red light that sent warning signals to Gray’s brain.

“What, uhm, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to heal your sorry ass. Again,” Fukou groused, “Do you have a death wish or something? What would you have done if I hadn’t happened by?”

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself,” Gray crossed his arms over his chest in defiance, for the moment ignoring the pain the simple movement caused him, as he scowled at the implication that he was always in need of rescue.

“Whatever you say, Princess, all I know is if you keep this up, I’m going to have to learn new healing spells.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Gray screamed in agony as his wounds were healed, Fukou making no effort to be considerate.

“Ow, damn it! Can’t you be gentler?”

“I could, but I want you to remember the pain,” Fukou declared with a self-satisfied smirk, “ then maybe you’ll be more cautious in the future. I always wondered why Atlas did that, now I think I’m beginning to understand.”

Gray let the words swim in his brain as the pain began to subside, the warmth of Fukou’s healing magic still managing to soothe him despite the dragon’s attempt to teach him a lesson. He felt his wounds closing up before hearing one single last word. “Sleep.”

0-0

Gray woke to find he had been moved to another location. He seemed to be inside a cave but could tell right away by its size that it wasn’t the red dragon’s cave near Talos. Sitting up slowly and noticing his wounds had all but disappeared, he searched the cave, looking for the dragon that had saved him, finally finding him sitting outside the entrance of the cave looking up at the stars.

Fukou turned his head to look at him. Where before he had seemed furious, his expression was now too complex for Gray to read.

“I trust you are feeling better?”

“Yes, uh, thank you.” Gray sat near the dragon, leaving a healthy amount of space between them, feeling self-conscious as the words he had said to the dragon the last time they had met replayed in his mind.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, Gray struggling with the words he knew needed to be said. He coughed uncomfortably, “I, uh, I wanted to say I was sorry about before.”

“The struggling?” Fukou asked, the small grin that tugged at his snout, making his fangs appear sharper, “I should have expected that.”

“No, uhm, back when I named you, I was an ass, I didn’t mean it. So you know if I, uhm, hurt your feelings or anything, I’m sorry.”

The dragon shook his head before looking back up at the stars, “No need to apologize, Gray Fullbuster, it is a most fitting name. Sorrow and misfortune are indeed all I have ever wrought.”

Gray winced, realizing just how deeply his words had hurt the creature. He quickly changed the subject. “Where are we?”

“I didn’t think it wise to return to Talos straight away, those men could have decided to follow us. Now that you are awake, we can use the cover of night to return.”

There was something that was confusing him, and Gray figured he had nothing to lose by asking, “Why didn’t you just kill them?”

Fukou continued to stare at the stars, making Gray think he hadn’t heard him until he finally replied, “I don’t enjoy killing.”

Gray lowered his head, pondering Fukou’s response with some skepticism but growing admittedly more curious about the creature, “Is that why you have so many scars?”

Fukou chuckled, “No, I was actually trying to kill that one, he just bested me.”

A laugh escaped Gray at the unexpected response, which he soon tried to hide behind a cough, but Fukou’s eyes twinkled regardless.

“Where have you been? It’s been months since I last saw you.”

“Why? Did you miss me?” Fukou teased, laughing at the dismay in Gray’s face at his retort.

Before Gray had a chance to deny his words, Fukou explained his absence, “The Dragon King required my assistance. I was returning home when I smelled your blood and went to investigate.”

“I don’t understand you. Why bother with saving me at all?”

Fukou studied him fixedly before shrugging his massive wings, “Perhaps I seek to change your mind of the notion that dragons are heartless.”

Gray’s lips tightened into a hard line, not willing to concede on that point yet. He wasn’t satisfied with that answer, surely there had to be more to it. Why would Fukou care about what he thought?

“We should get going, we’re still a long ways away from Talos.”

Gray watched as Fukou lowered himself and stared at him expectantly.

“Oh, hell, no!”

“Surely, you’re not expecting us to walk there? It would take days. I could always cast that sleep spell on you again...”

“No! Fine, I’ll do it, just don’t drop me.”

“You know, if I wanted you dead, I wouldn’t have bothered healing you first.”

“I’d feel more comforted if you weren’t grinning at me like some sort of psychotic overgrown lizard,” Gray complained, the sound of Fukou’s unabashed laughter irritating him in ways he hadn’t felt in a while.

Fukou attempted to explain how to get on his back, but Gray ignored him in favor of using his ice to lift him up to the desired height. He crawled across the dragon’s massive back and towards its long neck, searching for a spot where he could sit and hold on properly.

He was amazed to find the dragon’s scaly skin did not feel as rough as it looked. Gray ran his hands over it, curious about the texture, which was akin to the feeling of wet sand between his fingers. A pleased rumbling sound from the dragon beneath him startled Gray from his unintentional petting. He stopped his hand midstroke, but then remembering how the dragon had saved him despite his harsh words, he rewarded Fukou with a few strokes to his neck before holding on for the trip ahead.

Gray was terrified, although if he was honest with himself, a little excited as well. He’d never considered the idea of flying. He held on to the excitement, frantically trying to distance himself from how he was achieving it.

The dragon took off without any warning, his wings spreading majestically and flying them ever higher. Gray let out a startled squeak, much to his embarrassment, before clutching Fukou’s neck tightly as they fought air currents until reaching a smooth patch.

They flew by the light of the moon, man and dragon choosing to remain silent, although they would have been able to converse had they wanted to. Gray felt overwhelmed, not just by the fact that he was riding a dragon, but that he had somewhat willingly chosen to do so.

He couldn’t say he regretted it though, the feel of the wind caressing his skin and hair was exhilarating, to say the least, as was knowing that he was one of the few humans to ever experience such a thing. The last time he had felt this alive was during the previous summer solstice when he and Natsu had made love for the first time.

Fukou’s body exuded constant warmth keeping Gray comfortable despite the cold air around them. Slowly, a sense of peace settled over him as he found himself up among the stars, and he relaxed, loosening his grip on Fukou’s neck. He could hear the dragon chuckling softly, although he didn’t comment.

They landed right outside the town walls, Fukou waiting patiently for Gray to climb down. The journey had ended much too soon for Gray’s liking, and he found himself disappointed that it had been too dark for him to really see much.

He was about to say thank you, only to discover Fukou had already left.

0-0

Once Lyon had gotten over Gray almost dying on one of his jobs, he listened raptly to the story of his rescue. He had taken to teasing Gray that while most people had a guardian angel, he seemed to have a guardian dragon. The irony of the situation amused Lyon greatly.

Regardless of which, he immediately forbid Gray from taking any more solo jobs at least until after the wedding, ignoring all of Gray’s protests to the contrary. It was frustrating, but he could see his brother’s point, so he tried to fill his free time with additional training, still embarrassed by how easily he had been beaten.

With no means of escaping the village, Gray found himself thinking about Fukou often, it was hard for him to understand that a dragon would take it upon himself to try to change his mind. Why? What was it about Gray that compelled the red dragon to act this way? To rescue him when by all logic, he should have just let him die. Was he just amusing to him?

Regardless of his hatred for dragons, Gray was well aware that he wasn’t a particular threat to them. His attacks on Atlas hadn’t even gotten within ten yards of the hellfire dragon. Heck, he hadn’t even been able to really injure Happy when he was a baby, that had been Sting with his dragon slayer magic.

So what could Fukou possibly gain by changing his mind? Was he just drawn to the sadness that lived within Gray, did he maybe feel the same? Could he just be looking for a friend? Did dragons even have friends? It was frustrating not to know, but he had a feeling if he asked Fukou, the dragon wouldn’t give him an answer.

It was funny, in some ways the dragon reminded him of Natsu. His recklessness, sense of humor, and the playfulness he’d exhibited with those kids had made Gray wonder if his mate had acquired those traits from the dragons that had raised him. None of that, however, managed to explain the odd feeling of peace he felt around the dragon sometimes.

It was a beautiful winter night in late January when Gray decided to go for a walk. Snow fell all around him, keeping everyone but the most enthusiastic inside. Ever since acquiring his ice magic Gray had enjoyed going out in winter weather, and Lyon would usually be right there with him, but he had been busy with wedding stuff, and Gray hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Besides, it was best if he got used to the idea that he would be alone soon. Lyon would be moving out after the wedding, and although they would still see each other at work, their relationship was bound to change. Lyon belonged to Erza now, and soon they would start a family of their own. It was the natural order of things.

His walk took him towards the field, fond memories of snowball fights with Ur and Lyon keeping him warm. These were soon replaced by more recent ones with Erza and the dragon slayers. It was perhaps the only activity where he and Lyon could best the others, and they both enjoyed it immensely. More often than not, Natsu would get overexcited, his body heating up more than usual and melting all the snow around him as Gray took the opportunity to mock him mercilessly. He chuckled, remembering Natsu’s pout as Wendy rushed to console him as usual.

The memories were too close tonight. On a whim, Gray kept walking, reaching the mountain path and following it up, past the red dragon’s cave, all the way to the top of the mountain, hoping exhaustion would settle in and give him one night of peaceful rest, away from the dreams that often haunted him.

It was there he found Fukou, once again looking up at the sky, even though the stars were hidden behind storm clouds. He nodded at Gray briefly in recognition but otherwise remained silent.

“What is it with you and the stars? You can’t even see them tonight.”

Fukou tilted his head to the side, considering Gray’s words for a long while before answering, “It doesn't matter whether I can see them or not, they are still there, shining down on us.”

Gray examined the dragon, noticing some new scars that hadn’t been there before, making him wonder what he’d been up to, “Where do you go?”

“Hmm?” Fukou peered at him in confusion.

“When you disappear for long periods, where is it you go? Is it dangerous?”

“I go check on the other dragons, make sure they’re okay.”

‘Why wouldn’t they be? Isn’t the war over?”

“Dragons are still being hunted,” Fukou explained.

“By the renegades Natsu talked about?”

“Not tonight," Fukou replied, refusing to answer Gray's question. "The ghosts are too close,” his only explanation.

Fukou looked back up to the sky and spoke not another word, leaving Gray to sit in silence beside him.

When he woke up in front of the town gates the following morning, he couldn’t remember climbing down the mountain, and he wondered whether Fukou had flown him down. Either way, he had slept fitfully for the first time in a long while.

That night began an odd routine.

On days when he couldn’t sleep, Gray would make his way up the mountain, searching out the company of the quiet dragon. Fukou wasn’t always there, and even when he was, there were nights when not a single word passed between them. On these nights, Gray could sense a deep sadness come over the dragon. It was one of the reasons he continued to come, he too felt similar grief, but somehow sitting together on that mountain, it was alright.

0-0

Gray noticed Happy flying over the village once again and instinctively knew Fukou had left on another one of his trips. Shrugging away the gloom he felt, he explained it away, telling himself he was only bothered by how the dragon's absence would affect his sleep. Still, he kept an eye on the sky, hoping to catch a glimpse of the dragon’s return.

When it came, it was unexpected. Gray had been dreaming of Natsu when he woke with a strange pain in his heart. After making sure it wasn’t anything to worry about, he sat up, shrugging on some clothes and hurrying outside, worried the pain might have something to do with Natsu.

It was then he heard a loud disconsolate wail in the distance. It didn’t sound at all human, and his thoughts immediately went to Fukou. Gray set off at a fast run, arriving at the base of the mountain in record time. The hopelessness of that sound set him on edge, and he trudged on, not sure what he would find when he reached its source.

The sound led him to the path he'd followed the first time he’d found Fukou. Gray followed it, stumbling in the dark as he attempted to navigate its unknown twists and turns.

The sight that awaited him was one he hadn’t expected. Not only was Fukou the one making that awful sound, but he was covered in blood. His markedly different appearance made Gray wary of approaching him.

It didn’t seem like the dragon was aware of his presence, so he sat on the same rock he had used that first time and waited, trying to swallow the fear he felt. When Fukou finally settled down, Gray approached him slowly, making as much noise as he could. The last thing he wanted was to startle the dragon when it was acting this strangely.

Fukou finally looked in his direction, his entire body tensing, prompting Gray to put his hands up in front of him in a calming gesture.

“What happened?”

“It’s Happy,” Fukou’s face had streaks from where his tears had briefly landed on his skin before evaporating.

“Is— is he okay?” Gray asked anxiously. Happy was a complex topic for him, but he would never forget everything he had done for Natsu, not to mention his mate would be devastated if something happened to the dragon he had adopted as part of his family.

Fukou shook his head, a whimper rising up his throat. Gray didn’t know what to do, he had no idea how to comfort a dragon. Instead, he decided to bring Fukou’s attention to his injuries.

“You’re hurt, shouldn’t you heal yourself?” Gray kept his voice as gentle as he could, although every instinct he possessed was telling him this was a mistake, and he should get his ass back home.

“It’s Happy’s blood,” Fukou explained, seemingly oblivious to the blood that was gushing from an open wound on his chest.

“Look again,” Gray prodded, trying to keep himself calm, “You’re bleeding.”

Fukou looked down absently before Gray saw the familiar red glow of his healing magic.

“What happened?”

“Happy and I were attacked by renegades,” the words flowed out slowly, the dragon still mostly in a daze as he recounted the events, “ I managed to kill one, but the other went to get reinforcements. I— I tried to heal him, but I could smell more of them coming, so I grabbed him and flew him back to Atlas. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”

At this, the whimpering began again, but Gray’s blood had started to boil. Fukou had just admitted to killing a human.

“You killed a human?” Gray’s voice was stiff as he threw the dragon’s words back at him, “ I thought you said you didn’t like killing.”

“I don’t,” Fukou appeared confused by Gray’s sudden change in attitude, “I had to, they were going to kill Happy.”

“You had to?” Gray mocked, ignoring the hurt on the dragon’s face as he yelled. “You outweigh them by hundreds of pounds, and you have an arsenal of fire magic at your disposal.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Fukou snarled, Gray’s words inciting his fury, “These humans possess magic that can kill us. What was I supposed to have done? Should I have let them kill Happy on some sort of moral principle? Let them kill me? Are we not allowed to defend ourselves?”

Gray had no answer to that, but he couldn’t just approve of Fukou’s actions either. His head throbbed as his childhood self argued unyieldingly against Fukou’s words.

“And you call me heartless?” Fukou laughed mirthlessly at Gray’s silence, before peering down at him with an expression more serious than Gray had ever seen from him before, “I wonder if your answer would remain the same if it was Dragneel in there fighting for his life.”

Gray couldn’t meet the dragon’s glare, knowing damn well if Natsu had been involved, he wouldn’t have cared who died as long as his mate could return to him safely. It was selfish but no less accurate, and the realization made him feel sick to his stomach.

‘You are such a hypocrite,” Fukou spat, his words all the more scathing because they were true.

“You think the war is over, but the truth is that for some of us, it never ended. We’re hunted down for no other motive than greed.” The air around Gray sizzled in response to Fukou’s fury, and still, Gray couldn’t say anything, held captive as he was by the righteousness of Fukou’s words.

“The human renegades seek to bathe in our blood in an attempt to sate their neverending thirst for power. Until they are destroyed, no dragon will ever be safe. So yes, I will kill every single one of them if that is what it takes to keep all dragons safe. If they come after me and mine...I will show no mercy.”

Most of these were done by people...

Gray recalled Natsu’s words and suddenly understood the meaning hidden behind them. Natsu was off fighting these renegades, protecting the dragons he loved so much. As much as it stung that his mate had chosen to continue fighting for the dragons rather than return home to him, Gray sought to be understanding. Natsu had always done what he felt was right. And if his dragons, no, his family, were in danger, he wouldn’t hesitate to fight for their safety, no matter what the personal cost.

He wished Natsu would have trusted him enough to ask for his help, it was laughable to think he would ever do so, given what he knew of Gray’s feelings. And once again, he had no one to blame but himself for that outcome.

Gray sank to the ground holding his head in his hands; the shooting pain made all the worse by the suffocating heat. How he wished he could live in that world of gray areas that both Natsu and Fukou traversed so effortlessly.

It must be nice to be able to face a visible enemy, but how were you supposed to defeat your demons when they all lived inside you? His hatred had been imprinted on him at such a young age that he couldn’t seem to fight his way out of it, and he had been trying to fight it. Natsu, the other dragon slayers, and even Happy had begun the process, but it had been Fukou that had forced him to see dragons differently. It just wasn’t enough to surpass over a decade of hatred.

“I know a dragon brought you much pain, Gray. I do not deny it,” Fukou addressed him, surprising Gray by using his first name. The dragon’s voice was calmer than before, although he could still hear faint traces of anger intermingling in words.

”What Deliora did to your village and your loved ones is unforgivable, but your misguided hate will not bring your loved ones back. It has only caused you to hold on to the pain you should have put to rest years ago.”

“Dragons have played a bigger role in your life than you are ready to admit. Not only have they protected the village you claimed as your new home from harm, but they saved your life many times. They raised your mate to be the man you seem to think so highly of. So the way I see it, you have two choices. You either have to accept that not all dragons are evil, just as not all people are and open your heart to those who would call you friend,” Fukou paused, giving him time to absorb his words.

“Or you can continue to live with the hatred that is destroying everything you hold dear. I have done all I can to show you who we are, but I can’t force you to change your mind, only you can do that.”

Gray nodded slowly, accepting the truth in his words but still not daring to look at Fukou, afraid of the judgment he might see in his eyes. He remained in his uncomfortable position long after Fukou had entered the cave to check on Happy.

He didn’t remember walking home but knew this time he had managed it on his own.

0-0

Gray’s mind remained in a constant jumble, Fukou’s words continued to wage war against his inner self. Some days it seemed like he had made some headway only to revert back at the memory of the destruction of his village and the pain and fear he’d felt during his parent’s last moments. His mind berated him for betraying their memory in what amounted to a fit of weakness.

He was stuck, and he hated it. Thankfully Lyon’s wedding was coming up quickly, and that kept him incredibly busy. Last-minute preparations took up a lot of his time. Then there was Erza, who had chosen him to take command of her post while she and Lyon went on their honeymoon for a few weeks. Her intense training regimen to prepare him for the challenge ate up the rest of his free time.

Before he knew it, April showers had given way to May flowers. He hadn’t seen Fukou since his last trek up the mountain, assuming he would probably no longer be welcome. It seemed Gray was only good at one thing, and that was pushing others away, and the loneliness felt at the dragons’ absence from his life was something he couldn’t deny.

Life moved on regardless of his discontent. Lyon and Erza had their wedding and left for their honeymoon soon after. For a brief moment, Gray was able to experience genuine happiness, even if it was for someone else.

Erza seemed almost disappointed to discover the town hadn’t self-destructed in her absence, but she gave him glowing praise for his efforts. Her expression growing concerned when that barely got a smile in response.

Gray helped Lyon move his things to his new house, listening to him chatter happily about his trip, and snickering as Erza ordered his brother around with her very definite ideas of where things belonged in their new space.

Gray had missed them greatly, especially the relief they provided from his thoughts. But after several weeks of doing Erza’s job, dealing with all of the issues that came up daily, not to mention all the people that demanded his attention, he had both an even bigger admiration for Erza and a desperate need to to get away.

Preparations for the villages’s Red Dragon Festival, which was scheduled to take place during the Summer Solstice, had already begun, and that was yet another thing that Gray wanted to leave behind. The festival was a constant reminder of both Fukou and Natsu and he was so tired of worrying and obsessing over both.

He’d already picked out a job during his brief stint as Acting Captain. It was only two days' travel, and it would keep him away for three days at most. Erza signed off on it without complaint, offering him an understanding smile and bidding him to be careful.

He walked away from Talos, through their field, and towards the nearest road, briefly looking back at the mountain he had come to know so well. A hint of sadness threatened his good mood as he thought of what he had lost through his own stubbornness.

He cast the thought aside, attempting to focus on the refreshing warmth of the mid-June sunshine on his skin as he got further away from his home. Gray focused on the beauty of the surrounding landscape, entranced by the wildflowers that adorned both sides of the road with every color imaginable.

He stopped to pick a flower that reminded him of the ridiculous color of Natsu’s hair, twirling it between his fingers with a smile. It filled him with longing for the things he had once taken for granted. He’d love nothing more than to spend a lazy afternoon sitting among those flowers, just threading his fingers through Natsu’s soft hair and listening to him talk for hours, green eyes sparkling with excitement, hands flying every which way.

Gray tried to imagine them sitting just like that, hoping to get some pleasure from it, stunned to discover all he felt was a resentful rage.

Why couldn’t they have that? Why couldn’t Natsu just pick him for once, and how much longer would he be forced to wait for his return? For the life that Natsu had promised him when he’d said they would spend the rest of their lives together.

He might be Natsu’s mate, but time and time again, Natsu had shown him the dragons would always come first. Even above the bond that marked them as soulmates. What was left for him then? All the time spent worrying and making excuses for him, what was it all for?

Gray realized then that if he didn’t get some answers soon, he might just be done with all of this. He had to look no further than his brother to understand that the words he had fought against for so long were valid. Even Juvia had moved on from her obsession with him to find love with someone else. He thought of Anna who was in a similar position as him, waiting for her love to return to her, but at least she had the orphanage to keep her busy.

He had made it so that without Natsu, he was nothing, and that was his own fault.

Gray had been letting his life pass him by, on the hope that the man he loved would return to him, and as much as it hurt to even think about moving on from the only thing he’d ever wanted, perhaps it was time for him to want something else.

His thoughts remained gloomy for the rest of his journey. The sun’s warmth, which had been such a comfort earlier became a reminder of the heat that he was well on his way to convincing himself he’d never have again.

He’d just arrived at the outskirts of the town of Calluna when he first noticed a distant blur flying towards him. Its brilliant scarlet scales identified it as a red dragon, even from far away, and Gray stopped to examine it, part of him hoping it might be Fukou.

The dragon was flying lower than what Gray would have considered wise, not seeming to be paying any attention to its surroundings, almost drifting along rather than navigating. Gray continued walking, figuring he’d get a better look the closer he got to his destination.

When he was about a quarter of a mile from the town, he began to hear panicked screams, which soon had him examining his surroundings, seeking to determine what might be causing their alarm. Peeking back up at the sky, he noticed the dragon was closer now, enough for him to be able to recognize that it was indeed Fukou, his scars immediately giving away his identity.

He was so used to the dragon that it took him a full minute to understand that Fukou was the cause of the commotion, a fact the dragon also seemed oblivious to. Gray’s heart raced painfully when he saw the first bolt sail through the air, missing its target by mere inches. Even then, Fukou did not alter his trajectory.

Gray's sharp eyes sought out the source of the bolt until he discovered a pair of ballistas, manned by a group of very excited soldiers who were already reloading the weapons with more oversized arrows.

“FUKOU!” Gray yelled as loudly as he could manage, trying to warn the dragon and hoping a familiar voice might rouse him from whatever trance he seemed to be under.

Fukou startled, his head darting from side to side in search of the owner of the voice. It was at that moment that two of the bolts hit their mark, tearing through the membranes at two different points of one of Fukou’s enormous wings. The dragon cried out, flailing his wings in an attempt to remain airborne, but it was a losing battle. The air currents had grabbed hold of the tears, ripping them further until they had merged into one large hole, the flap of loose membrane waving in the wind. Not being able to control his descent, Fukou fell to the ground with a resounding thud. Soldiers ran out Calluna's gates armed with arbalests, a smaller version of the ballista that had already caused the dragon so much damage.

Fukou struggled with his torn wing, still striving to get back in the air. Gray watched and waited, resigned to the attack he assumed would soon follow as the men surrounded the dragon. He wouldn’t enjoy what was to come, but after giving thought to the words Fukou had yelled at him in his rage Gray had come to the conclusion that the dragon had every right to defend himself from an unprovoked attack.

However, instead of using his fire magic, the dragon simply growled and whipped his long tail about, trying to intimidate his attackers into leaving him alone.

Gray couldn’t understand why the dragon wasn’t fighting back, it should have been easy for him to overpower them with his magic. He continued to watch from where he stood, not knowing what to do until he heard Fukou whine as his abdomen, one of the few areas of the dragon’s body not covered in scales, was pierced by a bolt from one of the arbalests.

That whine traveled straight through to Gray’s heart and lured him into action. He couldn’t just wait for the dragon to save himself, not when Fukou had come to his rescue so many times. Fukou was in trouble, and it was time for Gray to repay his debt.

Gray ignored the protest inside his own mind, having seen enough of the situation to be disgusted by the soldiers’ actions. He grabbed an item from his travel bag, shoving it into his pants pocket before dropping the bag and running towards the dragon.

“STOP!” Gray yelled at the top of his lungs, swiftly closing the distance between them. The men stared at him briefly but went right back to jabbing at Fukou. Gray settled into his molding stance as soon as he thought he was close enough for his magic to be effective.

Determining they seemed to enjoy arrows, Gray decided to give them a taste of their own medicine. He called out his first spell, “Ice-Make: Arrows.”

A large bow materialized in his arms, and he used it to send arrow after arrow at Fukou’s attackers. He watched with a satisfied grin as his ice arrows raced towards his targets, wounding several of the soldiers before they even realized what was happening and causing chaos within their ranks.

Gray was already running again, moving his position to further disorient them. He placed his fist in front of his palm, summoning his magic once again. This time allowing his anger to fuel his spell.

“Ice-Make: Freeze Lancer”

As the lances hit their marks, Gray made his move, creating a path of ice that would lead him straight towards Fukou and slip up any soldier that got in his way. He quickly molded blades to his shoes, which provided him an additional speed boost. Once he reached the dragon, he gathered all of his magic, imagining the end result he wanted before calling out his final spell.

“Ice-Make: Dome”

Ice rose out of his hands at high speed, expanding and curving until it began to surround them on all sides. Fukou, catching on to his plan, soon hunched down so Gray wouldn’t have to expend as much magic.

Although the dome he'd created was smooth on the inside, Gray had designed it with thick spikes on the outside to buy them more time. As soon as they were entirely surrounded by ice Gray ran over to Fukou, climbing over him to get a good look at his wing injury.

Fukou’s eye’s followed his every move even though he remained silent. Gray couldn’t tell whether the dragon was still angry from their previous confrontation or just embarrassed to be rescued by him. He decided to try to lighten the uncomfortable moment.

“Who’s the princess now, huh?” Gray snorted when he saw the outrage in Fukou’s eyes at his remark.

“Seriously though, why weren’t you fighting back? You could have taken those guys easily.”

Fukou’s voice came out in pants, eyes hooded with pain, “They didn’t have any magic, it wouldn’t have been right for me to retaliate. Besides,” he shrugged before hissing at the pull on his injured wing, “I’ve had worse injuries.”

Gray gawked at the dragon, surprised by its admission.

“I don’t see why you’re looking at me like that, “ Fukou groused, “I’ve told you several times I don’t enjoy killing.”

Gray wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so he kept his head down and his mouth shut, testing his ice and noticing that it was already beginning to melt. Fukou’s body temperature and the late spring sun were working against it steadily, not to mention the soldiers who seemed to be aiming their bolts at the spikes. Gray continued to feed more magic to his ice, strengthening the structure wherever he could.

“Well, be that as it may, you better hurry up and heal yourself. Your body heat is working against my ice, we won’t have much time to get out of here.”

“I uhm, can’t really do that, healing requires a lot more magic than I have available at the moment.” Fukou managed to look sheepish even though they were now both in danger.

“I had a feeling you might say something like that,” Gray muttered, grudgingly taking the item he had grabbed out of his travel bag and looking at it with dread. “I can’t do anything about the bolt with what I have on hand, but If I stitch up your wing, you think you can fly us out of here?”

Fukou ignored the question, eyes widening in dread as he saw the needle Gray was holding, and for a moment, it looked as though he wanted to scurry away.

Gray chuckled nervously, “Don’t be such a baby, I’ve had to do this for Natsu a couple of times, I know what I’m doing.”

Fukou appeared skeptical, engaging in some sort of exaggerated deep breathing that made Gray want to thwap him on the head. “Oy, stop that! I haven’t even started yet,” Gray scolded.

“Now, do you think you can make a small flame to sterilize the needle?”

Gray placed the curved needle in a small metal tray near the dragon while he grabbed the catgut. When he looked back, the tip of the needle was already glowing, and it was his turn to take an exaggerated breath as he tried to convince himself that this was no different than patching up his boyfriend.

He threaded the needle and moved over to the injured wing, trying to determine the best way to patch it up. He positioned the flap carefully in place and began to painstakingly stitch it back together.

“Ow, couldn’t you be a little bit gentler? That hurts!” Fukou whined.

Gray smirked, remembering the dragon’s words to him and repeating them, “I could, but I want you to remember the pain, then maybe next time you’d look where you were flying.”

Fukou sulked but otherwise refrained from complaining any further.

Gray felt drops of moisture land on his head and hurried, knowing he couldn’t bolster his ice and tend to Fukou at the same time. He set the last stitch and looked at his handiwork, biting his lip in frustration as he realized it had been pointless. There was no way Fukou would be able to fly them out of there, there were too many open spaces in between his clumsy stitches, the wind would just tear it apart again.

“Alright, can you run? Flying is a nogo,” Gray rubbed the back of his neck, seeking to come up with another plan as they both stared at the bolt that was sticking out of the dragon’s abdomen.

“I won’t be able to get very far with this stuck in me,” Fukou responded, “We’re going to have to get it out somehow.”

“I could try to pull it out?” Gray offered, desperately hoping the dragon would disagree.

“I’m going to need you to do that,” Fukou whispered before closing his eyes in preparation. “As soon as you get it out, I’ll cauterize the wound.” The temperature in the dome rose quickly as Fukou readied himself.

Gray gazed nervously at the long wooden shaft protruding out of Fukou’s body before wrapping his hands around it and tugging gently to get a feel for the force needed. Fukou cursed loudly just at that. Gray gulped, already feeling sick to his stomach. “I—I can’t do this.”

“You’re doing fine, one hard tug ought to do it,” Fukou encouraged, making Gray feel even worse.

He took one deep breath before freezing his hands to the wood of the shaft. Pulling with all his might, he tried very hard not to think about what he was doing, which left him wholly unprepared for the sudden release of the bolt, a problem which was further amplified by the startling sound of Fukou’s cry. Gray found himself on the floor still holding on to the bolt. He dispelled his ice quickly, not wanting to be connected to it any longer than he had to. He scrambled to his feet, refusing to look at the clumps of tissue that were attached to the bolt’s head.

The ice continued to melt at an even faster rate as the air around them heated up from Fukou’s efforts to cauterize the gaping wound the steelhead had left behind. Not quite able to speak yet, he gestured for Gray to climb on, and this time, he did not protest.

Fukou took off at a run, moving swiftly but unsteadily on his rear legs as he did his best to balance both their weights on his tail, all while keeping his wings close to his body to prevent them from being damaged by the wind. Gray could tell the dragon’s injuries were taking a lot out of him. The soldiers followed after them for several miles, but as their bolts were no match for the dragon’s speed, they eventually gave up.

When they were but specks in the distance, Gray announced, “I think you can stop now, it looks like they’ve given up.”

They had reached one of the wildflower fields Gray recognized from his walk, putting them about a day’s walk from Talos. Fukou stopped right where they were, his legs crumpling underneath him, breath coming in ragged pants. Gray climbed down quickly, peering at the dragon with concern.

“I think I’m just going to close my eyes for a second,” Fukou muttered, immediately falling asleep and serenading Gray with his deep snores.

Gray almost laughed at the irony of his predicament. Instead of spending a lazy afternoon with his mate as he'd fantasized, he was stuck babysitting an injured dragon.

At least this makes us even now, Gray thought, before falling asleep next to Fukou, not noticing when the dragon wrapped his uninjured wing around him like a blanket, almost as if by instinct.

A/N: This was a rough one but I hope you like it. I ended up enjoying the writing of it more than I thought I would. I want to thank @oryu404 and @xhorhasian-aki for their advice and encouragement through some of the harder parts of this chapter. Thanks guys, you're amazing! There should be another update next week! Enjoy.

@ao3feed-gratsu��

#fairy tail #gratsu #ftlgbtales #update #fairy tail big bang 2018

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sserpente · 5 years

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Synopsis: Thanos’ cruel attempt to wipe out half of the universe failed and the titan is dead; but his actions came with grave consequences. Tears and cracks in the universe, all across space and time formed wormholes within the nine realms and beyond, giving old enemies a vicious opportunity to strike again. When the Jötuns invade Earth and the Avengers assemble to defend the planet once again, it is the help of none other than the former war criminal Loki they are reliant upon to drive the icy warriors back to their own realm. But then the God of Mischief encounters a young woman abandoned in the cold—your body mangled and altered with Jötun blood, a lab rat to the Frost Giants. He decides to take you with him and nurse you back to health, unable to comprehend the confusing affection he begins to harbour for you.

A/N: The synopsis partially sounds like a Doctor Who episode. *giggles* Here goes another (pretty dark) story I have been meaning to write, based on a dream I had once. It was supposed to be a Oneshot but as previously announced I wanted to do so much more with it so I simply kept writing. Have fun reading, my lovelies!

Warnings for this story: mentions of rape, mentions of torture, mentions of ill parent, mentions of emotional/physical abuse, abduction, slavery, (sexual) submission, injuries, blood, smut

Available on AO3!

Chapter 1

The digital map Tony had programmed spread over the entire table, mountains, hills and buildings towering up to the ceiling where they flickered slightly. White dots covered the spots in question, marking the places they had already taken, its people in great danger. There were too many of them—and it was enough reason to be concerned.

Steve Roger’s coffee had gone cold. He scratched his chin with a deepening frown, flicking through the many pages of his briefing pack as he sat at the table. There he had been, killing time, frustration and energy in the gym, thinking it was all over, that his days in the compound were numbered.

“How could this even happen?” Eventually, he lifted his head to come to terms with his new reality. Tony Stark, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, Wanda Maximoff, James Rhodes, Stephen Strange. They were all here, back and united again to face a new threat, a new foe to protect this world from.

“When Thanos meddled with the universe, he manipulated space and time repeatedly before we could overpower him. He… seemed to have caused wormholes that messed with all path ways across the universe. The Frost Giants must have found one of them… and learned quickly how to make use of them.” Stephen replied. His fingers were fondling one of his gloves as he let his gaze roam over the map once more all the while his red cape attempted to struggle free from where he was sitting on it. They had all ceased to pay any attention to it by now—not after everything they had seen and witnessed.

The Jötuns had already invaded and successfully taken Greenland and quite recently Iceland, building their strength where cold weather and icy conditions would make drowning an entire civilisation in blood, ice and fear even easier. Nature had already submitted to the cruel race… the people… not so much.

Iceland had managed to send a distress call before the Frost Giants took over, a distress call which had landed right in Tony Stark’s office. Nick Fury and SHIELD had been informed, the Avengers had assembled yet again.

Soon, they would all be back on the battlefield now, a well-deserved retirement postponed. At least, so they knew, what they did was for the good of humanity.

“Tell Thor to move his ass here at once,” the billionaire tossed in darkly when the room drowned in silence. “He’s dealt with these ice cubes before.”

Doctor Strange nodded, clearing his throat as he stood. It would have been only a matter of time for him to contact the God of Thunder anyway. Besides, he understood the gravity of the threats unfolding up in the North. Quickly, his fingers drew complex patterns into the air, sending orange sparks flying through the room. Then, he stepped through. The portal snapped shut behind him quickly.

Bucky groaned, burying his face in his sleeves. “Do we ever get a break?” He complained loudly. Steve only shrugged. His comment was meant to lighten the mood. Truthfully, it did not even work on himself.

Thor had settled down in Norway, along with what was left of the Asgardian population. Ruling as their king, he had helped choosing an abandoned and quiet patch of land to grow a new civilisation far away from humans—the very place Odin had chosen for his last destination. Charms and modern technology, developed by the most sophisticated scientists of Asgard hid the village reliably from curious mortals and it was peace and compromise that made their presence on Earth possible.

Unless you knew how to enter this place, it would be hidden from your view like an invisible blanket wrapped around the entire village.

Naturally, Thor had taken all the credit, yet it was him, Loki, who had aided the Asgardians with his ancient knowledge—seidr which no other than Frigga herself had taught him. He had sacrificed his own life in a brave attempt to save the universe from the one being that had tormented him for years, making him compliant for his causes. He was a saviour, a hero and still… no one was willing to acknowledge him. Einherjars and few citizens respected him solely because of his royal status, nothing had changed about that. Others were still disgusted by having a Frost Giant living among them, a god who had attempted to invade and rule another realm because of an alleged lust for power—and one who had imitated the Allfather himself when all he had wanted was to protect himself from Thanos.

After a long-awaited while, his own brother, at the very least, had begun to appreciate his actions and efforts. He knew that Thor would never fully comprehend his self, just like he knew that no one else ever would either. Not since his mother died.

Sighing, he stood, abandoning the small trinket he had been tossing in the air repeatedly, and made his way to the make-shift throne room. He could hear the Asgardians mutter and whisper to themselves, discussing Thor’s unexpected visitor quietly.

Loki raised his eyebrows. Visitor? Well, he might not be king but any royal matters were still his business too. He was the prince of Asgard, after all.

“That’s impossible. The Frost Giants are trapped in their own realm, the source of their power was taken from them by my father centuries ago!” Not just taken. When Asgard was destroyed during Ragnarok, the casket of Ancient Winters had vaporised along with it. Thor was furious. Gnashing his teeth, he paced up and down the room with clenched fists.

Ah, Frost Giants. Loki’s face distorted for just a split second. Old family, old acquaintances, old heritage—nothing to be proud of, nothing to be gained from ruling a cold and dead realm inhabited by monstrous warriors who longed to drown the nine worlds in ice. They were not his favourite enemies to deal with. But he was a hero now, was he not? Another chance to prove himself, if not for his own self-satisfactory needs.

“And yet they are here, Thor.” Doctor Strange replied calmly. “We must drive them back to their own realm before they do any permanent damage to our planet.” He relinquished adding that this ship had already sailed. The universe had only just risen again, the cracks and tears visible and hazardous proof of its last destructive battle.

The God of Thunder took a deep breath, pondering over what would be the best actions to take. He eyed his visitor as if he were the reason for this new-found misery. He had not yet forgotten his last encounter with the Jötuns, back when he had lusted for battles, war and bloodshed. The smug, self-indulgent and arrogant part of him was still lurking within him, so Loki knew. Jane had brought out the best in him and when she left him for good, he had, partially, begun to fall back into old patterns.

“If they have taken Greenland and Iceland, Norway might be next.” He finally said matter-of-factly. “We need to do something now.”

Doctor Strange nodded unfazed.

“Take us back to the compound. I’ll find a way to stop them and if it’s the last thing I do…” He roared.

But Stephen overheard his courageous promise. He raised an eyebrow, already expecting what would follow when he considered his words. He had hoped the God of Thunder would leave his mischievous adopted brother in Norway, far away from where he could cause any trouble.

“Us?” He still probed.

“I know what you’re thinking, wizard. But Loki is a Frost Giant himself, I will need his help. He is my brother. He died for me not long ago.” Loki pursed his lips. Yes, I am your brother, Thor. He was a fool for thinking he, Loki, had ever stopped loving him even after everything they had been through together. Trust was a dangerous feeling, he could tell Thor would never fully grant it to him—but neither would he. They were fine as they were right now. Loki would be satisfied if this was all he would ever get out of their brotherly relationship.

Doctor Strange sighed, causing him to roll his eyes. “Fine… but if he puts one toe out of line, I’ll—“

“You will what?” The God of Mischief hissed, lifting his chin proudly as stepped out of his hiding place and entered the room.

Thor breathed out audibly. Clearly, he had overheard the entire conversation, there was no need to ask; but unlike his brother, Loki already had a plan.

A/N: Here we go! Obviously, Loki is the real hero here... he always has been, no? ;-) If you enjoyed this chapter, would you consider buying me a coffee for the next? I’d appreciate your support so much! kofi.com/sserpente (or hit the ‘Support me’ button on my blog!)

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geejaysmith · 5 years

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Wolf 359 Classpects, pt. 1

Soooo, while I was still busy with the last few weeks of my summer internship, I did keep thinking about classpecting the Wolf 359 cast. Possibly too much, because it wouldn't leave me alone until I'd solved my own God Tier riddle. Unfortunately, it got really long in the solving because I have many Thoughts and want to share all of them, always, so uh, a complete Classpect Analysis of Wolf 359 will be in parts? This first one covers Eiffel's, Hera's, Lovelace's and Minkowski's aspects.

DOUG EIFFEL: An utter no-brainer; ya boi Dougie Fresh is a Breath player if I ever saw one. For Chrissakes, he's the communications officer, and the first one to start complaining about the monotony of being stuck in a deep space sardine can. Breath is associated with communication, freedom, openness, and change - "free as the breeze", you might think of it, but that also leads to Breath players having trouble pinning themselves down to anything. They get skittish if they feel pinned down, and frustrated when stuck in place. Doug's noncommittal aloofness, the way he's off in his own little world (partially to hide from the fact he really does not like himself very much at all), and the way he's incorporated media into his self-perception all match pretty well with John and the Nitrams. But at the same time, he's the one playing mediator even as early as The Sound And The Fury. Being largely outside of the War Industrial Complex the other characters are so familiar with and thus mostly free from its dogmatic worldview of hierarchy and order, he's becomes the One Sane Man when he's the one to shout "what is WRONG with you people?" when "murder" shows up in the top 3 potential solutions to a problem, and he has no hesitation in saying what's on his mind. And it's not all complaints and bad ideas, either; he's got whole speeches telling the others how amazing he thinks they are and how in awe he is of their skills. A key catalyst in the plot of Wolf 359 is the reaching effects of his radio broadcasts. Also, there's something hilarious to the fact that for the aspect associated with communication, Doug *literally* cannot lie to save his life. I kept my ears open for the infamous Breath Hex on my second listen - that is, the strange little way in which things Breath players say tend to come to pass in reality. Cigarette Candy is basically 20 straight minutes of the Decima virus being Breath Hexed into existence, and he guessed Lovelace's situation in one - "Maybe she's a clone, or like a *really* good robot replica."

HERA: Another easy one. Although Hera is resistant to splintering as we've come to recognize it, Heart players are nothing if not determined to be an individual. They have a firm idea of themselves as a person and defend it fiercely, including compartmentalizing away pieces that don't fit their self-image. Maybe less actively putting them down like Jade Harley did to Jadesprite (the manifestation of the negative feelings she repressed out of fear they'd make her less useful) - that would mean attacking or denying a part of themselves - and more... "why yes, I put this part of myself in this box, and I may look at the box on occasion, the box definitely exists, but I don't go near the box and I definitely do not touch or open or interact with the box. And then one day, I will die." So that piece finds other avenues to express itself because it can't not do that. Hera's programming dictates she be "chipper and non-confrontational and always ready to help", but she actively resists being a mere utility and always has - her earliest know action was to attempt a jailbreak of the manufacturing facility she was made in, born rebel that she is. She will insist upon her name over her serial number unless you force her not to, and gets passive-aggressive at people treating her like a machine. And yet, even as she teaches herself to ignore commands literally written into the base of her personality, she doesn't reject her directive to be helpful, nor does she express a wish to be a flesh-and-blood human, or even really to have a physical form? She has a human self-image in mental spaces (we presume, I will semi-seriously point out there's nothing definitively stating she doesn't see herself as like, her fursona or something), but when she has to limit herself to a human-like view of the ship, her immediate reaction is "this is weird, I don't like it." This is honestly something about Hera that I think may be unique among non-villainous AI characters; she seems to be content with being what she is in general, and she just wishes for people to treat her as a person and not a piece of equipment they can do with as they please.

ISABEL LOVELACE: Arm-wrestled Hera for the Heart aspect and lost, despite Hera not actually having any arms, but that's okay because there's two aspects that fit her much better: Blood and Time. I ultimately went with Blood.

This is the part where you notice I'm onto the third of four characters in an aspects-only meta post, yet there is still a lot of post to go. This is because These Kinds Of Characters, the sort that're constantly on emotional lockdown, are a Challenge Mode, and for me to truly be satisfied with my classification I have to start drilling into the bedrock of what it even means to have an aspect in general, what it means to have a specific aspect, and what each aspect is really about. When you're on that level you tend to find yourself throwing out explicit expositional statements as incomplete, oversimplified, or unreliable, and looking at the text directly with a subtextual electron microscope. Brace yourselves. I have thrown the author out of the airlock, and I am about to get verbose.

Lovelace's character sheet describes her in contradictions, and we get to see two different sides to her that resolve into the complete picture by the time Lovelace Mk. III wakes up. There's Captain Isabel Lovelace, goofing around in her earlier logs, and The Terminator. She does things Her Way and is very much prepared to fight you if you object - the whole reason she was picked for the Hephaestus mission was her willingness to go against (in her words) "stupid orders" and do what she thought was right. She's also fiercely loyal; The Terminator is the end result of her anger and grief for her lost crew and at her failure to get them home alive. Her backstory episode has her summing up her complicated relationship to the Air Force with "I owe a lot of who I am to them." And even before she and Minkowski have completely stopped butting heads, Lovelace shoves her out of the way of an exploding wall panel that would've killed her, and takes a near-fatal bit of shrapnel to the gut in the process. At her best, Lovelace is a fearless, boundlessly determined, dedicated firebrand of a leader. At worst, she can be impatient, stubborn, shortsighted, and ruthless. I dunno about you but that reminds me of a certain... angry crab that I know.

"Time" was what a few people chimed in with for Lovelace and while I see some of the connections (her awareness of the time loop, "Variations on a Theme", her multiple selves and multiple deaths, the repeated motif of clocks and pocketwatches) I don't think she quite fits in with the other Time players. Unlike most Time players, she doesn't have a fixation with historic context, the "Why Things Are The Way That They Are." This manifests in Dave's paleontology and his taking of source material for ironic twisting, Aradia's archaeology and knowledge of The Nature Of The Game, Damara's... /noises and vague gestures bc I don't want to go back through Meenahbound but her role as The Handmaid fits the pattern, and Caliborn's own warped, thoughtless replication of narrative archetypes. Context. Decisions. What came before and how it shapes the now, where your decisions will take it from here. The consequences those decisions will have. The details versus the larger picture. Even failure has its place in that scheme - that's the Time aspect. Lovelace doesn't like to dwell, she's a very "barrelling forward momentum" kind of person.

Side note: Aradia, Dave, and Damara all face hesitation to take action they had to learn to overcome. Also, all of them had to be pushed to use violence except in self-defense; Aradia let Vriska cross a series of lines before beating the everloving shit out of her, and Damara snapped after what, years? Of Meenah's abuse. Dave, on the other hand, never raises a hand to another person except as a complete necessity. Caliborn is, if anything, an aberration here in that he's outright homocidal and self-doubt is something that happens to other people. Caliborn is an outright aberration to a lot of Time player patterns, and to SBURB in general, because it's SBURB, so the rules are made up and the points don't fucking matter, except when they do, because Fuck You, The Author Said So.

No, Lovelace's approach to decision-making is that regrets are for afterwards, and "if I fail I deserve to be out of this picture; also, this situation has gone entirely pear-shaped, time to fling myself into the sun." (and that sounds an awful lot like someone that I know very well, but I'll deal with that royal mess when I get to the crazy whamma-jamma that is Classes). Impatience and railroading of other people can be her undoing just the same as assertiveness and decisiveness are her gifts.

...aaand then I went ahead and watched the live episode and yeah, major Karkat vibes there. However, I note that I don't believe we have ever hit hard evidence in Homestuck that Blood players are capable of Chilling The Fuck Out - this is part of the limitations of classpecting characters who weren't made for this system, you really have to dig into how much of their behavior is situational and where you see the kernel of individual perception shine through, the Rosetta Stone by which you begin to see the constants. "Where the object becomes the subject", to quote Memoria.

Finally, I think it's also worth noting that while Lovelace has a lot of connections to Time motifs, she also has connections to a lot of Blood motifs that arguably become more important to her story. Personal bonds and social justice are two of the Blood aspects strongest associations - see Lovelace's loyalty to her crew, and extending her desire to avenge them out to everyone Goddard Futuristics has ever used and tossed aside. The physical body and literal blood are other strong associations, and gee, how many times does the O-negative Cure-All Alien Juice in Lovelace's veins become a critical plot point? Not to mention the implication that her new friends all pulled through the finale because all of them now have her blood in their system. I'll accept that she's closer to the line between Blood and Time than some, but I'm holding by ground here:

(Also, here's some irony for you, she may share an aspect with the Cancer trolls, but her birthday is August 11th, making her a Leo.)

RENEE MINKOWSKI: Minkowski was the hardest of these 4 to come to a decision on. My first inclination was Mind. Her general disposition put me in mind of a Life player. But then, I sat down and thought my way past the Commander's layers of emotional armor and ultimately settled on Light.

First off, by being a stickler for protocol and procedure as well as an Actual Responsible Adult, Minkowski is a kind of character that Homestuck straight-up just does not have, so snap judgements aren't gonna cut it here. This is, again, another limitation of the classpecting system - all the examples we have to draw from are teenage disasters stuck in a lawless hellscape of some description or another, and written by an author allergic to boxing himself in with hard conclusions. But I digress.

Commander Minkowski is also stubborn. When she sets her mind to something, she digs in her heels, cranks the dial to 11, and then breaks off the knob and pockets it so you can't turn it back down. We see this as soon as episode 2, and at it's most hyperbolic when she Captain Ahabs the plant monster. Her's is iron-willed, bloody-minded, unstoppable, Determi-fucking-nation - when she sets her mind to it.

The submarine thought exercise is what had me initially lock her down as a hero of Mind before I mulled it over. The exercise is meant to provoke thought about priorities - what you think your role's purpose is in that situation will determine your priorities, and thus, your decisions. Mind heroes' most prominent skills are in riding the flow of causality, watching decisions, their causes and their consequences, and directing that path. They know people, and how to direct people. But the need for this means that they can get a little co-dependent. Other people are understandable - it's themselves that Mind heroes have the greatest struggle with. Without that vehicle of another person, Mind heroes may find themselves adrift and struggling to define themselves. This is fitting, given Mind is the most direct counterpart to the Heart aspect.

However, upon further examination, I found that this framework of priorities setting your decisions can also be extended to the Light aspect. What is "lucky" in a given situation? What do you define as a fortunate outcome? Rose arguably gets Grimdark'd by something like this, she asks the cue ball "are the horrorterrors evil?" and in doing so attempts to pry into the motivations and intent of *indescribable eldritch beings existing on a nigh-incomprehensible plane* and wedge it down into a relative human understanding of morality, which is sort of like trying to fit the Pacific Ocean into a water bottle. She was trying to deduce what impact the horrorterrors would have upon her and her friends, but asked the wrong question and got an answer she couldn't handle. She didn't recognize Doc Scratch was baiting her into this by leading her into a specific framework through which to ask the question. Vriska died because of her failure to recognize she was in a situation where luck didn't matter. Aranea got trounced because of her inability to recognize that reshuffling reality to prioritize herself and her preferred outcomes still didn't overcome the fundamental nature of timelines - you try to take over the alpha timeline with an insubordinate branch? That's a doomed timeline no matter how you slice it, and we know what happens to those. Luck and knowledge are both used by the Light-bound to give themselves power, whether in showing themselves off as The Smart One or the The Helpful One or The Unstoppable One, but their limited viewpoint often leads them to overlook the limitations of their own framework, or in other words, missing the bigger picture. I'll point out here also how Minkowski has the entire DSSPPM memorized and is the one who wants to get to the bottom of whatever the hell is really going on up at Wolf 359. Additionally, one of her other ambitions, at least once upon a time, was writing musicals. The verbal arts are one of the domains of Light players.

So while on the surface, Minkowski bears the most resemblance to a Life player, Life players tend to have an element of conformity to them. Unquestioned assumptions they've internalized have about the context in which they exist. Light heroes, on the other hand, need conformity so they have something to defy when they jump up and down screaming LOOK AT ME!

So after much pontificating, I came to a decision. In the end, what Minkowski wanted more than anything else was a stage. Maybe to direct rather than hold the spotlight, but still; that's a Light hero if ever I saw one.

#wolf 359 #homestuck #classpect meta #holy crossover batman #wolf 359 classpects

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tastes-like-ciel · 5 years

Note

>By all accounts, he shouldn’t still care for his father the way he does, but that’s a topic for another time (and one I will happily go into, if anyone likes).

Sure!

Gonna put a warning message before my answer on this, though. Everyone be advised the topics I’m going to discuss are uncomfortable as the subject is about Ryoken’s relationship (or lack thereof) with his father, who abused not only other children but his own as well and before anyone says “Ryoken was never abused!”

Yes.

He was.

Just not in the same way as the other six.

Abuse takes different forms and just because something isn’t physical or doesn’t leave marks on someone’s body, doesn’t mean it’s not abuse.

But yes. Big warning ahead of my thoughts. Just in case someone would rather not read it. Also spoilers for the whole series. There’s some screenshots in here. Otherwise, carry on.

So Dr. Kogami is a horrible, awful person. We all know this. Not only did he kidnap and experiment on six, six-year-old children for six long months, but he allowed his only child to discover these experiments and showed no kind of remorse for his actions at any point in the series. There was only the one time, just before his death, where he admitted to not doing anything fatherly for Ryoken. Just that one hot second of maybe regret and considering how he immediately jumps into the “But the world needs you.” drivel, he’s only making excuses and I don’t believe he actually regrets how he treated Ryoken all that much.

And that’s it. A whole lot of nothing that only really enforced how much of a terrible person Dr. Kogami is. It wasn’t a redemption (even if perhaps Ryoken himself might have seen it as a sort of apology from a father to his son). It wasn’t even one of YGO’s handwaved or half-assed attempts at a villain redemption. He just was never redeemed and things are fine like that because honestly, I don’t believe there’s anything they could have done or could still do to redeem that man. VRAINS continually condemns Dr. Kogami for his actions in one form or another and goes through great pains to express that Ryoken is not at fault for anything his father has done. If anything, he’s a victim and this is YGO so it’s not going to go that deeply into it, but VRAINS has gone surprisingly deep into this subject as well as with the six kids considering it’s, at its core, a card game anime meant to promote cards. And honestly, the later time slot the show was given makes total sense because it’s not so much the graphic depictions of torn-off limbs or avatar corpses it shows, but the entire subject of abuse and learning to heal and overcome it. VRAINS’ theme is “taking a step forward” and it shines through in this sense because while it is a card game anime, it very much is a story about abuse survivors and characters with deep depression finding themselves and learning how to live despite their trauma.

The abuse of the six Lost Incident children is easy to see and understand, but there are other characters such as Ryoken, Aoi, Shoichi, etc. that are suffering through depression for various reasons. Ryoken grew up with essentially no one. All he had was his father. We don’t know what happened to his mother. It’s possible she died during childbirth or died before Ryoken was old enough to remember her and thus could be a catalyst to setting Dr. Kogami on the path to try manufacturing immortality. It’s also possible that Ryoken was a test tube baby and as much as I hate to think it, it’s also possible the mother just left. Unless the show tells us directly one day, we’ll never know. Regardless, Dr. Kogami was Ryoken’s only parent–his only role model–and a parent is God in the eyes of a child. His father was his whole world and he loved his father very dearly. He had no reason to believe, at such a young age, that his father was capable of physically hurting someone. That’s just not something children think about until it actually happens.

And then, of course, it does happen.

Ryoken brings home a friend one day. That friend is Yusaku. Dr. Kogami, I’m assuming, used Ryoken to lure Yusaku to him. Can’t say about the others because no one except Yusaku has given any indication that they remember meeting a tiny white marshmallow with a deck of Duel Monsters cards, but it’s possible. However, it’s odd that he would only choose to speak with Yusaku and no one else, so I’m thinking this was either a one-time case or he could only get in contact with Yusaku’s cell. But the fact is he and Yusaku meet and Ryoken takes him home. Maybe they played for a little while and I imagine they probably did. Dr. Kogami was after child duelists, specifically, since he believed dueling was the best way for the developing Ignis to understand human behaviour and a young child would still be in the development phase/easier to study, making his experiments have better results overall. So he’d probably want proof they knew how to duel first. What better way than to let his son have a playmate before taking them away? He could have witnessed the other kids dueling or, considering he had assistants to help him with this, they also could have helped in the kidnapping.

His father was so obsessed with the idea of creating humanity’s successors that he kidnapped and tortured six children for months and months and he used his only child to get at least one of them. His eight-year-old son, who didn’t understand what was going on. His eight-year-old son, who had no reason to believe his father could do evil. His eight-year-old-son, who he claimed to never want involved but did absolutely nothing to prevent Ryoken from finding–and hearing!! Ryoken heard them screaming!!–the experiments he was performing on those kids. He starved them, electrocuted them, left them in cold, lonely rooms where they slowly began to lose hope and inched closer and closer to death.

And those kids absolutely would have died had Ryoken not blown the whistle on the whole thing.

Think about it. Dr. Kogami kidnapped these children to use them for experiments. Test subjects gathered in such a way do not typically have happy endings. Dr. Kogami would not have let them go. He would have kept them in those rooms until they died, until they gave up. He couldn’t risk the kids going back and telling the authorities and having all his research taken away from him. They were only there for six months because Ryoken made it end. The only child that might have survived, in the end, would have probably been Spectre. Yusaku was giving up, Jin was being tortured with false hope by Lightning and withdrawing from everything, and can’t say about the others. Miyu kept thinking of Aoi and how much she wanted to see her again and that kept her going, but we don’t know how long she could have lasted. Maybe she would have survived alongside Spectre, though. So at the most, two of the six would have survived.

But the point is, Dr. Kogami is a bad person. Ryoken has every reason to not care for him. He was neglected, manipulated, used. And his father didn’t care. He kept doing it. He kept using him and manipulating him into thinking he had anything to do with this whole mess. Now Ryoken has done some bad things himself. He tried to nuke the entire network in a suicide mission, which was part following his father’s orders and part his guilt complex surfacing. His father was going to let this happen, too. He didn’t care if Ryoken lived or died so long as the Ignis were also dead in the process. Dr. Kogami is truly, truly an awful person.

But like I said before, a parent is a child’s whole world and Dr. Kogami was all Ryoken had. Even though he was manipulated and neglected and never even tried to deny these things when his father spoke of causing him to suffer, he still stayed by his side. He kept quiet and suffered in alone. He shouldn’t have had to deal with that. He could have chosen to leave his father and no one would blame him, but a point I want to make here is Ryoken choosing to stay with his father despite all he’s done is both him not wanting to abandon his only father out of guilt he’s being a bad son and a classic example of a victim defending their abuser. It’s even more complicated when that abuser is a parent. Ryoken was very young and wasn’t physically abused, but I think you already know where I’m going with this because I kept mentioning it. Neglect and manipulation and grooming to be a martyr for killing the Ignis. Ryoken was a means to an end for Dr. Kogami and Ryoken was willing to die for him if it meant his father was paying attention to him finally. Of course, even then, it was all about the Ignis. Nothing Ryoken ever did to please him made him be fatherly.

He says, in front of his own child. Who he has no qualms about letting die along with the Ignis with the Tower of Hanoi plan he hatched.

That must have hurt an awful lot. Ryoken didn’t deserve any of this. He was done very, very wrong by his father, who never gave a shit about him. Dr. Kogami doesn’t deserve to have him as a son, but I understand why Ryoken stuck with him. He wanted his attention, he wanted his love, he wanted to be important in his father’s life, and I’m sorry, Ryoken, honey, that you never got it.

#Kogami Ryoken #VRAINS #Sery writes a thing #breakdawn-avenue #I can't fault him for sticking with him #he just wanted to be a good son #Dr. Kogami doesn't deserve Ryoken #i hope the bastard stays dead #long post #honestly this was just be rambling and dragging Dr. Kogami through the mud idek if it makes sense oof

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commentaryvorg · 5 years

Text

Danganronpa V3 Commentary: Part 4.14

Be aware that this is not a blind playthrough! This will contain spoilers for the entire game, regardless of the part of the game I’m commenting on. A major focus of this commentary is to talk about all of the hints and foreshadowing of events that are going to happen and facts that are going to be revealed in the future of the story. It is emphatically not intended for someone experiencing the game for their first time.

Last time, as trial 4 (trial 4!!!!) kicked into high gear upon Gonta being accused, Kaito unflinchingly believed in Gonta’s innocence until he suddenly didn’t and then immediately started running away from the truth, Shuichi did not run away from the truth and continued to heroically try and face it, Kokichi completely dropped the ball on emotionally tormenting Kaito over this kind of thing because he was too busy making everything about himself, and Kaito started making arguments he knew weren’t true in an attempt to sound like he’s just being logical and not running away from anything and most definitely isn’t weaker than Shuichi.

We just finished the Debate Scrum, meaning that everyone has (supposedly) acknowledged the possibility that Gonta could have done it.

Gonta: “But… Gonta telling truth… Gonta… r-really not culprit…”

Himiko: “I… s-still don’t think Gonta’s lying…”

Himiko also apparently has a decent intuition for this! You’d think Kaito would be the first one to keep stressing this point and not her, but it seems Kaito is too busy hurting over the fact that Shuichi is clearly stronger than him to want to say something that’ll continue to make him look bad at facing the truth.

Kokichi: “But… didn’t I tell you guys already? If you’re planning to expose a liar, then you have to corner then psychologically… Only then will they reveal their true self as a liar – hiding beneath a layer of deceit!”

Kokichi says “didn’t I tell you already” here because this is him quoting word-for-word something he originally said during trial 2 when he was trying to turn Kaito against Maki, which is a neat callback to that. This trial has a lot of thematic similarities with that one; there’s probably going to be a small bonus ramble about this.

Kokichi: “That’s why it hurts my heart to persecute Gonta like this!”

I’m probably going to sound very unlike my usual self here, but… I think this sentiment of Kokichi’s might be genuine? I believe this moment is supposed to be a sign of the vague semblance of a decent person deep inside Kokichi clawing its way to the surface for a brief second and expressing the fact that he actually does hate that he’s doing this to Gonta.

I have specific reasons for thinking this that will come up in time, and I feel like I have to mention that to justify this interpretation, because without those reasons, this moment alone really wouldn’t do much to make me think that Kokichi actually means this. He says this literally straight after the previous part that I quoted. Kokichi has not really started to truly persecute Gonta and try to psychologically corner him yet, so if there was ever a moment in which the vaguely decent person inside Kokichi would be forced out of him for just a second, then it feels to me like it would take something more extreme and stressful than this. For the longest time, I did assume that this had to be just another lie, because of the way it’s presented.

Kokichi: “Gonta! If you understand, then do it right! Make logical arguments for the truth!”

Either way, I said it was “briefly”, because in the very next sentence, Kokichi proceeds to… persecute Gonta, aka do the exact thing that he just claimed it was hurting him to do. Good job shoving that vague decency of yours right back down deep inside you and ignoring it like you’ve been doing this whole time, Kokichi.

From the perspective of the majority of Kokichi that’s just a dick and doesn’t care about Gonta, it makes sense why he’s getting so frustrated now – because he still doesn’t realise Gonta has forgotten everything, and he was hoping this would be a more “fun” battle of Gonta trying to defend himself than simply him repeating that he didn’t do it over and over again. Maybe he’s even kind of unnerved at the way Gonta is still apparently managing to keep up his “lie” of not knowing anything at all even now.

Kokichi: “I’m sick of hearing you say you don’t know! God, why are you so dumb!?”

Gonta: “Gonta just wanna help everyone! Like true gentleman!”

Kokichi: “You’re a true gentleman!? More like a true nincompoop!”

Kokichi’s starting to sound really angry and frustrated here, which is in part him genuinely being frustrated at Gonta not giving the right reactions, but also could partly be a sign that being this awful to Gonta is stressing him out because of the vaguely decent part of him that doesn’t want to be doing this. Which is why I feel that now, after he’s begun to persecute Gonta and do something so stressful that’s hurting him deep down, would be the right time for him to have that moment of sudden stark honesty about his feelings, not beforehand.

Kokichi feeling like this when he’s bullying Gonta but not when he’s been bullying anyone else is perhaps partly down to the fact that Gonta is so open and honest about the distress this is causing him, making it much harder for Kokichi to tell himself he’s not being a terrible person, whereas the other people he’s been jabbing at mostly try to hide how much it gets to them (hi, Kaito). Then there’s the fact that he knows he’s getting Gonta killed by doing this, which is far worse than any of his usual low-level dickery. But it’s also probably in part just because it’s Gonta. Again, more on that later.

Himiko: “Hey! Now that’s just bullying!”

Kokichi: “…Bullying? Yeah, so what? That’s what you do in this game, right?”

It really doesn’t have to be. The only person who ever talked about it being necessary to psychologically corner people and persecute them until they slip up in order to reach the truth was… oh, right. You, Kokichi.

Kokichi essentially expressing the sentiment of “so long as everyone else is a bully, that makes it okay for me to be a bully too” sure explains a lot of things about him, by the way.

(Also remember how it was once hinted at that Himiko has been a victim of bullying herself. That might be why she’s the one to speak up to protest about Kokichi doing so to Gonta.)

Kokichi: “You guys blame and gang up on me, but now you’re going to pretend to be good people?”

That’s one hell of a victim complex you’ve got there, dude.

I can believe that maybe once upon a time in Kokichi’s past (the past that we’re never going to learn anything concrete about because psh, who needs to properly understand why Kokichi acts this way), he was genuinely victimised and ganged upon in a way that he didn’t deserve. That would explain why he’s so quick to play the victim here and act like that’s what everyone else is doing to him now. But no – in this instance, he very much does deserve it. People are blaming him because he told lies that were only going to get in the way of reaching the truth and having everyone survive, and because, even if Gonta did do it, that is very clearly still partly Kokichi’s fault for manipulating him into it somehow (he’s already basically admitted as much). Blaming someone for doing bad things that they very clearly did does not make the person doing the blaming a bad person, especially not in this killing game where doing so is necessary to survive. Kokichi’s just trying to deflect all guilt from his conscience so he can keep telling himself he’s done nothing wrong, despite the fact that he has essentially killed two people and the second of those murders is currently in progress right now.

But no, you brought this upon yourself, Kokichi. If you really hate being blamed and “ganged up on” so much (which here is really just multiple people happening to have the same opinion of him; no-one is making deliberate use of their strength in numbers to oppress him), then maybe you should have acted in a way which doesn’t blatantly warrant it.

Himiko: “N-No… I never ganged up—”

Kokichi: “Gonta, argue back already!”

Also note how as soon as Himiko tries to point out that no ganging up has been happening (and if she’s been bullied herself, she should know quite well what real ganging up looks like just as much as Kokichi should), Kokichi immediately shifts back to persecuting Gonta rather than admit that he might be wrong.

Kokichi: “Just make an excuse or… whatever!”

Kaito: “Stop it!!! That’s enough!”

Kaito is Done with Kokichi’s bullshit and cannot bear to listen to him continually trying to hurt Gonta like this. I love the way he blurts this out out of nowhere, not to make any kind of argument but just because he wants this awfulness to stop.

Kaito: “I don’t want to survive if it means I have to stoop to your level.”

Kaito means every single word of this. If the only way for him to survive would be to compromise everything he believes in and become someone like Kokichi who constantly hides their true intentions and is willing to hurt other people just to protect themselves, Kaito would rather die as himself than live as that person.

This is a very important line, and very similar to the time Kaede said, “Do you really think I’d kill someone just to get out?”. Kaede never actually broke those words of hers, and Kaito isn’t going to break these.

(In case you wondered just how relevant to Kaito’s overall story this line is, Heartless Journey, aka chapter 5’s theme aka the closest thing this game has to a theme for Kaito, is playing right now.)

Kokichi: “Ooh, that’s a low blow right there…”

Yeah, it is. Kaito was simply stating the truth and not actively trying to make it a low blow, because he’s not Kokichi, but given how desperately Kaito wants to live, this is definitely a measure of just how disgusted he is by everything Kokichi stands for.

Kokichi: “Then just die in a hole for all I care! We wanna live, so stop getting in our way!”

…Do you want to live, Kokichi? I thought your master plan that you’re working towards involves getting yourself killed. If you wanted to live, co-operating with everyone in escaping this place would have been the best way to do that, you know. You’re the one who’s been getting in the way of everybody else’s survival.

(Turns out Kaito is in fact going to die in a hole – one that’s even deeper than the diameter of the Earth. SPACE.)

Maki: “Quit it. If you don’t shut your mouth, then I’ll shut it for you… permanently.”

Technically, Maki could actually do this right now with no repercussions. Gonta is currently the blackened, so if anyone else was murdered before his execution took place then it would come under the “if there are two murders at once, only the first one to be discovered will count” rule.

Gonta: “Sorry… It Gonta’s fault everyone so upset…”

No, it’s not, Gonta! Just because they’re arguing over you doesn’t mean that the argument happening is your fault. It’s Kokichi’s.

(And okay, it is partially Gonta’s fault in terms of the Gonta who murdered Miu and gave Kokichi a reason to do this, but that’s not the Gonta who’s standing here.)

Gonta: “Cuz Gonta not know anything! Really!”

Kokichi: “Cut it out already! That’s all you’ve been saying this whole time!”

Yeah, Kokichi, maybe there’s a reason for that. Maybe you should have noticed this forever ago, since you’re the one person who knows how he should have been acting, instead of assuming that he’s somehow been an amazing liar (because obviously everyone’s good at lying) until just now when he suddenly became terrible at it.

Shuichi: “Did… Gonta get into an accident in the Virtual World?”

It’s also interesting to note that literally everyone has been participating in this big argument just now in at least some way (even though Keebo’s only contribution was to tell Maki to calm down, and Tsumugi also only had one line) – except for Shuichi. He was silent throughout the whole thing and speaks up now to present a concrete theory and move the actual logic along. He is very much coming across like the only person here who has their shit together.

Kaito: “He doesn’t… remember?”

I like how Kaito is the one to most vocally react to this theory, because this would turn everything on its head for him if it were true.

I mentioned this last post when Kaito confidently asserted that Gonta isn’t lying: Kaito’s way of seeing the truth is through his intuition of people rather than through empirical evidence. He believes in people he wants to believe in because him “wanting to believe” happens when his intuition is telling him they’re a good person, and he has enough faith in that intuition that he can basically accept it as fact, even if he has no idea how to explain why he feels that way.

Kaito’s principles about believing in people also make a point that if he gets betrayed, that’s his fault for misjudging someone. But for him to acknowledge that he made a mistake in his original judgement, he needs to see something new in that person’s behaviour that makes him realise what their true colours are – because that instinctive judgement is still how he perceives things.

Both previous times that someone he believed in has been the culprit, that’s exactly what happened. In trial 1, Kaito was one of the first people other than Shuichi to notice Kaede acting in a way that suggested she did it. The only reason he still struggled to accept her guilt was because she was otherwise still acting like the same person who always cared about them, and he didn’t realise at the time that she could have done it for selfless reasons. Plus, crucially, he did manage to accept that she’d done it before her motive was explained, because he could still see that from the way she was acting. And in trial 2, while I’m sure Kaito wanted to believe in Kirumi as someone who’d always been helping everyone, he picked up on the fact that she was determined to protect an “everyone” who wasn’t everyone in here, and from that he could presumably accept that she was desperate enough to kill over it. Not only that, but she was acting considerably more forceful and desperate once she was the main suspect in a way that made it clear it really was her, and while Kaito wasn’t explicitly shown reacting to that, that’s definitely something that would have shifted his judgement of her.

If Gonta remembered committing the murder and was trying to cover it up, there would absolutely have been something noticeably off about his behaviour that hinted at that, something nervous and agitated and painfully desperate that Kaito would definitely have picked up on by now. He wouldn’t have attributed it to Gonta being the murderer until Kokichi mentioned it, but upon hearing that, it would make sense to him. This would still have been a struggle for Kaito to accept, but no more of one than it was in Kaede’s case, where he managed it in the end.

However, as things stand, Kaito hasn’t picked up on any such behaviour that might hint that Gonta is the culprit, which until just now he could tell himself means that Gonta surely can’t have done it, because he’s that confident in his intuition. But now that memory loss has been suggested, suddenly there’s another explanation for why he can’t see any hint of guilt in Gonta’s behaviour that still makes that guilt quite possible from Kaito’s point of view.

Kaito: “What do you mean he doesn’t remember!? He’s just confused!”

And so Kaito almost immediately goes on to insist that that’s definitely not what’s happening, because Gonta being the culprit would be so agonisingly painful that he just can’t allow it to be possible.

Gonta: “Memory or no memory… Gonta never hurt anyone!”

Meanwhile, of course Gonta couldn’t possibly conceive of any circumstance in which he would hurt anyone, even having accepted that he might have forgotten about something that happened.

Tsumugi: “Gonta’s definitely not the culprit!”

Gonta: “Gonta not culprit!”

Kaito: “No way Gonta’s the culprit!”

This is also quite clearly the best Mass Panic Debate in the game! All the others just have three different suspects all going “I’m not the culprit!”, saying the same words but meaning three different things with them, but this one delightfully turns that on its head and has all three people saying and meaning exactly the same thing.

The point of a Mass Panic Debate is supposed to be to illustrate how things have gotten so heated that people are shouting over each other, but honestly in every other instance it feels kind of forced that people would get so worked up over being one of at least three potential suspects that they’d scramble to defend themselves so desperately. But in this case it works much better, since there is only one possible suspect right now, and things have already reached boiling point over it. If ever there was actually a time for a trial mechanic based around characters being incredibly worked up, it’s now.

This trial has both of my favourite Rebuttal Showdowns, my favourite Debate Scrum, my favourite Mass Panic Debate, and, as I’m sure you can already imagine, my favourite Argument Armament coming up. Trial 4 is by far the best trial at utilising the full potential of the narrative-driven trial minigames to enhance the drama and character dynamics going on.

Gonta: “Gonta is gentleman! Gentlemen protect friends!”

How on earth could you put a weak spot on this as if it could possibly be untrue, game. That is just cruel.

Kokichi: “Your lies aren’t protecting anyone, you know.”

Stop being a dick, Kokichi. You’ve finally accepted that he doesn’t remember; you know he isn’t lying. And if he did still remember and was still lying, then he would be doing so in an attempt to protect everyone. Fuck you.

Tsumugi’s whole argument is also just insisting that Gonta would never hurt anyone, and, again, credit to her for actually being committed to this bit, because it sounds genuine. Everything else about the “character” she’s been playing has been very vaguely defined, leading to her doing stuff like saying she thinks that someone is innocent for no particular reason since she secretly knows who the real culprit is, and flip-flopping over whether a resurrected Rantaro did it in case 3 just to mess with Kaito. But there has been a consistent thread of her being on Gonta’s side this whole time. Maybe he’s her favourite character.

It’s also noteworthy that this would be the first case in which Tsumugi probably didn’t know who the culprit was going into the trial, because this case isn’t her story – it’s Kokichi’s. Still, I think that with her detachment from this whole thing, she probably has accepted that Gonta did it now, especially since it would make the best possible story if he did (and because she’s the only one who currently knows what his motive would be). So she’s just deliberately contributing to the heartwrenching nature of that story by continuing to pretend to be someone who believes in him and can’t bear to think he could kill anyone.

That said, I feel like it would have had more of an impact if the third most adamant person here was Himiko instead of Tsumugi. Gonta helped her quite a bit through her issues at the end of last chapter and the beginning of this one, even outside of the optional bonus scene, so it’d make her character arc still feel relevant if that resulted in her being noticeably one of the most passionate people about this. Himiko does believe in Gonta as things stand, but it’s not really emphasised very much.

Kaito: “If there was a glitch… it should have affected all of us! But because we’re all okay… that means there was no glitch!”

Meanwhile, Kaito is the only person making a logical argument. He’s not joining in with the insistence that Gonta would simply never hurt anyone even though I’m sure he wants to, because he knows that logical arguments are necessary in order to not sound like he’s running away from the truth.

Gonta and even Tsumugi aren’t bothering to address the memory loss angle, because that doesn’t really change anything about the fact that they believe Gonta would never kill anyone. It doesn’t change anything about the objective evidence which points to Gonta being the culprit either, since the evidence has nothing to do with how the Gonta standing in front of us is behaving. But this means everything to Kaito. If Gonta doesn’t remember, then despite how very definitely he isn’t lying, suddenly his guilt wouldn’t seem so impossible to Kaito at all.

Shuichi: (I know it sounds crazy, it’s no wonder it’s hard to believe… But… this is the truth…)

Shuichi is still keeping the fact that he’s finding this difficult to accept restricted to his inner monologue. On the surface, he’s just looking like he can face the truth without any struggle at all.

Oh, and – Kaito Refutations: 6!

Kokichi: “If he mixed the consciousness and memory cords, then there’d be an error with memory. Like… an error that won’t let you bring your avatar’s memories to the real world…”

Kaito: “Wh-What!?”

I adore that they chose to use this sprite for Kaito’s reaction here. I’m pretty sure he only ever looks this utterly horrified at two other points in the story – after Gonta’s execution, and upon seeing the “outside world”. Kaito has very good reason to look equally horrified here upon realising that Gonta really did lose his memory. Not only does this make it suddenly possible in Kaito’s eyes that Gonta could have done it, it also conversely means that actually accepting Gonta did it is going to be almost impossible for him. Kaito’s way of perceiving and understanding the truth is through his instinctive judgement of people – but if Gonta forgot everything, then the Gonta who actually participated in the events of the case and may or may not have killed Miu isn’t here. If Gonta really did do it, Kaito would never be able to “see” that. He’s just going to have to believe that Gonta did something awful with no “proof” – not what he instinctively uses as proof, that is – and there’s no way Kaito could ever do that.

The out-universe writers didn’t only choose to have Gonta lose his memory because it’s heartbreaking from Gonta’s point of view (and therefore for everyone else in their sympathy towards Gonta) in that he’s technically still innocent – it’s also a crucial part of why Kaito in particular has such a big problem with facing this truth. If it wasn’t for this, Kaito might have been able to accept it.

Himiko: “I said it over and over!” [gesturing with her right hand] “Right is the hand you hold your chopsticks in!”

Gonta: [raising his left hand] “Oh, but Gonta hold chopsticks with this hand…”

And here we have the most unique and clever use of a character’s left-handedness in a murder mystery ever.

This isn’t about Gonta being stupid. This is a problem of language. He was raised for most of his childhood speaking his forest family’s language such that he apparently doesn’t know which directions the human words “left” and “right” refer to. When they were talking about where to put the cords, Gonta must have been hesitant to speak up to ask what those words meant because he assumed it was something he was supposed to know and didn’t want to sound stupid and get in everybody’s way. Then Himiko helpfully told him which hand “right” is, so he didn’t have to!

(It’s actually possible that his forest language doesn’t even have direct equivalents to those words. I gather that there are some aboriginal languages that refer to direction in absolute terms rather than relative, meaning that people will always talk about things using compass directions regardless of which direction they’re personally facing. Your right hand could for example be “your north hand” or “your south hand” depending on which way you’re facing, even though it’s the same hand, and there is no concept of “right”. Maybe Gonta’s forest language was like that too.)

Apparently Gonta is also unaware of the fact that his left-handedness is uncommon, otherwise he would have realised that Himiko might not be talking about the hand he uses and made sure to clarify it. Either his forest culture never really made a big deal of handedness in general, or Reptites are predominantly left-handed, so that Gonta never realised he was unusual for humans. There you go, I figured out some Chrono Trigger lore which is totally canon, right.

Gonta: “Gonta not even go to this ‘Ver-chew-ul World’ place…”

Tsumugi: “What…?”

Gonta: “Gonta fall asleep when he put helmet on… When Gonta wake up… Miu dead… Gonta not know what happened…”

And finally everyone listens to Gonta for long enough and Gonta explains himself well enough for them to realise that, oh shit, he literally meant this the whole time. We could have had everyone figure this out earlier if they hadn’t written Gonta off as stupid or if Gonta had been more assertive about things, and it wouldn’t actually have changed that much about how this trial went – everyone would have just been all, “oh, well that’s awkward, guess you can’t be much help here, Gonta,” and continued on regardless. But having it be revealed only now when the fact that Gonta forgot everything suddenly makes it more believable that he’s the culprit (especially to Kaito) is the perfect way to do it.

Gonta: “But Gonta try his best to understand. Gonta imagine real hard—”

I know you did, Gonta! You’ve been trying so hard to picture everything everyone’s been talking about and still be helpful!

Gonta: “W-Wait a minute! That lie! Gonta not kill Miu! Cuz… why would Gonta do that!?”

Kaito: “Yeah, it’s a lie! I’ll never accept this! And besides! Gonta’s got no motive to kill Miu!”

That’s exactly why this is so goddamn hard for both of them – there is no conceivable reason Gonta would ever have done it based on what they know, and so long as Gonta doesn’t remember (and Kokichi doesn’t tell them), they’re never going to think otherwise.

Kokichi: “…I already gave you my testimony on how I came up with the murder plan.”

Kaito: “And I’m saying I don’t believe you!”

Shuichi: “Kokichi, if what you’re saying is true, why did you plan it this way?”

Hah, I like the way it immediately shifts from Kaito’s overemotional anger to Shuichi’s calm and reasoned logic, showing even more the contrast between the two and that Kaito’s way of going about things is not the right way to do this at all.

Monokuma: “Only the person who actually commits the murder becomes the blackened!”

Keebo: “Then there’s no incentive to just plan the murder…”

That’s only if the goal is escaping. If someone wanted something other than escape, such as, I don’t know, to kill two people without any repercussions to themselves at all, then there is absolutely incentive to just plan and instigate a murder without personally carrying it out.

Shuichi: “But Gonta’s such a gentle soul. Why would he agree to this?”

Kaito: “Hold on! That hasn’t been decided yet!”

Oh, Kaito. Shuichi’s asking basically the same question Kaito just was – questioning what Gonta’s motive would be – but he’s wording it in a way that implies he’s already assuming Gonta did it, and Kaito’s having none of that.

Kokichi: “Who cares about the motive? Let’s vote for the culprit already.”

I wonder if Kokichi’s trying to skip ahead to the vote now because he knows he’s convinced enough people already. Himself, Shuichi, Keebo and probably Maki by this point are pretty sure Gonta did it. Gonta, Kaito and probably Tsumugi (as far as she’s pretending) aren’t, and I’m not sure about Himiko, but even if Himiko also isn’t, that’d put it at an even split – which is exactly what Kokichi asked Monokuma about at the beginning and learned would still count as a win for the spotless. (Maybe. That bit was more awkward than I originally thought, actually.)

Tsumugi: “I care about the motive!”

Kokichi: “Well, I don’t care. Finding the culprit is more important in this class trial. Talking about the motive is meaningless. It’s not necessary for this specific case.”

It wasn’t necessary for any of the other cases either, but that didn’t mean we didn’t talk about it anyway to put everyone’s minds at ease (or not, in Kiyo’s case). I could go on about how much of a dick Kokichi’s being here, but obviously that’s the idea: he knows that not knowing Gonta’s motive makes this more painful for everyone and he’s trying to make a point of how evil he is. That and if they don’t know Gonta’s motive then it’s totally just that this person everyone trusted was actually a horrible backstabber all along and couldn’t possibly have done it for a reason that meant he still deserved their trust, right? – although admittedly he’s not actively trying to get across that point here, because, again, I don’t think doing so by making Gonta a murderer was ever him consciously thinking about that.

Kaito: “No matter what you say… I’ll never believe your lies.”

Kokichi’s being an inconsiderate dick right now, but he’s not actually lying, because these are the kind of statements that can’t even be lies. Kaito just can’t deal with this and is lashing out at Kokichi, not even for the well-deserved reason that he’s being a terrible fucking person, but for the incorrect notion that he’s lying about all this, because if he is then that means Gonta’s not guilty and that has to be the truth.

Kokichi: “Shuichi! You’ll be my partner, right!?”

Shuichi: (…Me?)

Kokichi: “Because if you don’t face the truth then we’ll all die, riiiiight? And you don’t want that, do you?”

Oh, finally, Kokichi’s actually mentioning the meaningful point that the real reason Shuichi is doing this is to save everyone. Took him long enough.

Kokichi: “O-kaaay! Let’s begin!”

Kaito: “Quit screwing around! I’m done putting up with your selfish bullshit!”

Kaito does not want any of this to happen. He knows deep down that Gonta really must have done it and that if this process of elimination that Kokichi’s about to begin happens then it’ll just become even more obviously undeniable – and therefore even more clear that Kaito just isn’t strong enough to face the truth.

Keebo: “Kaito, we should listen to his explanation. Our lives depend on it.”

Kaito: “Grh…”

And then not even Kokichi or Shuichi but Keebo points out that Kaito’s inability to face the truth is just going to put everyone’s lives in danger if anyone else decides to go along with it. Kaito’s not happy about having that mentioned.

Kokichi: “Shuichi, would you care to explain? I doubt they’ll believe it if it came from me.”

I mean, they should believe it no matter who it comes from, because again, it’d be the kind of statement that’s just a statement of facts about the case and cannot be a lie. But Kaito at least would almost certainly refuse to believe it anyway, using the fact that Kokichi said it as an excuse to run away from the part where it’s still objectively true regardless. However, if Shuichi explains it, even Kaito couldn’t deny it, because Kaito knows Shuichi’s always right about everything, and Kokichi of course knows full well that Kaito sees him that way.

Shuichi: “They couldn’t get to the crime scene, could they?”

Kokichi: “The bridge from the chapel to the mansion was gone, and only Miu could pass through the wall. The three at the chapel had no way to get to the mansion, so they couldn’t have done it.”

That said, Kokichi still explains most of this himself, and will do this same thing for all of the elimination steps. All he’s doing is getting Shuichi to essentially endorse his statements so that no-one (not even Kaito) can argue. It would have been more painfully jabbing at Kaito’s jealousy if Kokichi had forced Shuichi to explain the whole thing. Come on, Kokichi, you’ve been slipping on this for the entire second half of the trial.

Shuichi: (The reason why Kaito isn’t a suspect is…)

- He wouldn’t kill anybody

I like how this is one of the possible answers to write off Kaito. It’s very true! But… it’s also true about Gonta, and yet here we are.

Look at Kaito turning away like this even though it’s currently being explained why he’s innocent – he can’t be happy about that, not now. Perhaps Shuichi looked in Kaito’s direction while saying his part and Kaito couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

I would also like to point out that this is not the sprite Kaito had the last time he had a text box, and Kokichi is the one speaking here, so Kaito shouldn’t have changed sprites. They put in another exception to the game’s usual coding on this so that Kaito would be painfully facing away from Shuichi as the camera focused on him here!

(Okay, they actually changed everyone’s sprites in this bit while Kokichi is explaining how each of them couldn’t have done it. But shush, it definitely has the most impact with Kaito.)

Himiko: “Nyeeeh… Kokichi’s completely running the show now.”

Kaito: “…”

This is the first time this trial that the camera has panned to Kaito saying nothing and it hasn’t been about Shuichi, and I’m disappointed. Shuichi could be the one running the show right now if Kokichi really wanted him to be! That would hurt Kaito more!

Kokichi: “My synergy with Shuichi is super on point now, so let’s move onto the remaining suspects.”

Yeah, no, that’s not what synergy means. None of this is the two of you working together to figure out something you couldn’t have done alone. This is just you forcing Shuichi to join in with stating facts that you both figured out completely separately.

Side note: what was Kokichi planning to do here if Shuichi and Tsumugi didn’t completely coincidentally happen to be together at the time the crashing sound happened? …Then again, I suppose Shuichi would immediately have run to the dining room and found Tsumugi there anyway so that’d have been good enough.

Kokichi: “That leaves only Gonta and me as the remaining suspects…”

Kaito: “Then you’re the culprit!”

Oh, Kaito. You know that’s not true.

Kokichi: “So then, it’s down to one person. And who was that again?”

Gonta: “Uh… Uhhh…”

Gontaaaaaaaa. He hasn’t had attention drawn to him at all throughout this whole process of elimination, but apparently what he was doing during it was slowly breaking down sobbing. Even though he doesn’t want to believe he did it, Shuichi says it couldn’t be anyone but him, and Shuichi is always right, isn’t he…?

Kokichi: “Weeeell? Who is it?”

Kaito: “Don’t answer, Shuichi! You don’t need to answer that!”

This whole time, while Shuichi has been unflinchingly acknowledging the possibility that Gonta could have done it, he still hasn’t actually stated for certain that he did. Kaito doesn’t want him to answer because if he does, that’ll make it the truth – after all, Shuichi is always right, isn’t he? Not only that, but it’ll be Shuichi very explicitly and directly facing that truth, which is exactly what Kaito can’t do.

Kaito: “This is all Kokichi’s trap!”

And this is the only thing Kaito can think of that would justify why Shuichi shouldn’t answer that, even though that possibility doesn’t change the fact that this is what the evidence points towards. This is Kokichi’s trap, but it’s a trap that uses the truth.

It is absolutely evil (in a good way) that the game’s creators make you go into the accusation screen and officially accuse a helplessly sobbing Gonta. Every other time they’ve used that screen, it’s been because identifying the culprit was the player figuring out a new fact that hadn’t been established yet. But we’ve been talking about it being Gonta for a while now. This isn’t necessary at all, yet the writers force you to feel just as awful as Shuichi does by making you do this anyway.

(They also force you to face the truth even though it hurts to do, just like Shuichi is doing. Kaito would have stayed on the accusation screen until the time limit ran out and failed the trial. Or repeatedly tried to accuse Kokichi until he ran out of health.)

Shuichi: “I-It’s… it’s… Gonta.”

Kaito: “Sh-Shuichi!?”

Sorry, Kaito. Shuichi really is a lot stronger than you are right now.

The last two times Shuichi accused someone he wanted to believe in (by which I mean not Kiyo, why is case 3 even a thing), he had difficulty doing so and needed encouragement to manage it, from Kaede herself in the first case and from Kaito in the second. But now he can do it not only without Kaito’s encouragement but while Kaito is actively trying to discourage him.

Still, Shuichi clearly had some trouble saying that, so it’s not that he’s doing it without struggling over it! But it doesn’t look like Kaito can see past the fact that he did it at all to recognise that.

Kokichi: “You get it now, right? That’s the truth we were all reaching for. The thing you guys wanted so badly! A truth without any lies!”

Geez, Kokichi, stop sounding so goddamn victimised over this. The only reason everyone wants nothing but the truth right now is because Monokuma decided that we all die if we don’t find it. They’re not doing it to spite you in particular.

Kokichi: “Miu Iruma’s killer is… Gonta Gokuhara!”

Shuichi: “…Ah!”

Shuichi is still struggling a little bit with this! He can entertain possibilities and follow the logic wherever it goes, but his issues still make directly accusing people the most difficult part for him.

This is the one time so far that Shuichi has visibly shown difficulty in facing this truth, something that hasn’t just been in his inner monologue. Ideally Kaito would notice this and it might help him just a little… but I don’t think he does. I think he’s too caught up in the fact that Shuichi can face this impossibly painful truth at all while he can’t. All Kaito’s seen this whole trial is Shuichi being an invincible hero who very clearly doesn’t need his help, to the point that that’s the image he’s projecting onto Shuichi even now that it’s not quite the image Shuichi’s giving off.

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dukeofriven · 5 years

Photo

[Note: this post originally appeared in this thread. Owning to Tumblr’s inability to update reblogs with edits because it is a hellsite programmed by a secretive cell of former Stasi operatives to avenge the fall of East Germany, it has thus been re-edited and reformatted here for your reading pleasure.] JK Rowling’s wizards are the most useless, lazy, incapable dumbfucks in the history of fiction. The average Muggle? You take away their technology and they would be able to complete the basic tasks of feeding and clothing themselves without shitting on the floor. If a wizard ever lost their magic in Harry Potter, though, they would die. They’d be dead in three days. They’re garbage and I hate that I’ve come to hate Harry Potter - a series I once loved - because an author inexplicably hailed for her world-building is daily revealed to be appallingly bad at it. I realize this is a really dumb thing to be this angry about but I’ve been told for years what a great world-builder J.K. Rowling is, and that was not even true when the books were coming out. The Time Turner ruined all of Harry Potter forever, not because it offers easy time travel you can hold in your hand (although it does), not because you ask ‘why don’t they just use the time turner’ with every subsequent scenario forever (although you do), but because it was an enormous, flashing red light warning everyone that the series was going to attempt to make the transition from Fairy Tale Logic to Serious Fiction logic and fail. Badly. Really, really badly. I still think Harry Potter & The Philosopher’s Stone is an almost perfect book: a distillation of decades of boarding school genre fiction combined with magic, friendship, and wonder. It is a book that owes as much to Enid Blyton and L.M. Boston as it does to C.S. Lewis or T.H. White and other authors with two first initials. Its sense of place is magisterial, from the frumpy, soul-crushing suburban sadness of Privet Drive to the ephemeral curio-shop wonderland of Diagon Alley to Hogwarts itself, a bastion of astonishment, homeliness, and delight. What it isn’t is the sort of framework on which you can support the horror that is the torture and murder of Charity Burbage in front of her colleague Severus Snape, who could not rescue her because he could not break his deep cover as a spy against Wizard Hitler 2. Long-running series can experience changes of tone and complexity. This is neither something laudable nor worth reviling; it’s a neutral phenomenon. Sometimes series do it well: Susan Cooper’s The Dark Is Rising and Terry Pratchett’s Discworld are both series that by-and-large end with books focused on far more complex issues than their earlier entries. TV series do this too: contrast the early episodes of Steven Universe or Adventure Time with episodes from later seasons. With Adventure Time, for example, trying jumping from the pilot to Remember You and see how hard you get tonal whiplash) Lois McMaster Bujold sublime space opera The Vorkosigan Saga doesn’t just change tones but also genre: space adventure, murder mystery, political thriller, goofy regency romance, comedy of errors, heist movie, schizoid identity crisis - on and on. The latest entry in the series has almost no plot to speak of, but is instead a musing on age, gender roles, grieving the loss of a lover, and the hope of new life. Some series, however, manage the transition poorly, largely because the initial tone cannot be harmonized with the later tone (Mass Effect jumps immediately to mind). But Harry Potter has more than just a problem of its tone getting darker: its trying to have darker events fit in the same world in which people can walk around with names like ‘Mundungus,’ the Hogwarts school song can be a nonsense poem, and the Philosopher’s Stone was defended with a series of video game puzzles. In a world in which the villain openly tortures somebody to death, the Philosopher’s Stone shouldn’t have any whimisical bullshit about its magical defences: it should have trip mines in the floor and an enchanted statue with a gun, because Voldermort isn’t a guy you confound with drinking potions and flying keys. You should just kill him. The charming fairy world of wonder of HP & The Philosopher’s Stone has room for a love potion. The later books, in which it is revealed that Voldemort was essentially born from rape, is not place where Ron Weasley can hand-out a book to Harry called Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches without seeming like a predator in the making. The cradle that is The Philosopher’s Stone cannot hold a beastly baby like Deathly Hallows any more than Grindlewald pontificating about the superiority of wizards can sit comfortably in a universe in which wizards took until the 18th century to accept the outhouse! Not that fascist ravings are inherently logical; but even non-fascists in Harry Potter never act like wizards are anything other than 100% better than muggles at all times. They can’t, because if the series were ever to do that it would have to acknowledge that the two worlds are different: neither better, just different. Instead - well, as Ron once bitched, magic makes coffee perfect every time, so it’s not clear how muggles stand being alive and don’t just roll-over and die from the hellacious half-life that is living with imperfect coffee. This has nothing to do with irony, a suggestion that ‘oh Grindewald talks a big game about wizardly superiority but wizards didn’t use toilets and cal themselves goofy names like Flumpus MacFludgeon: Rowling is using dramatic ironic to lampshade how wizard supremacy lacks self-awareness. No: this is about a world that is silly being asked to host a genocidal dictator and his crimes. It’s like those tedious ‘grimdark’ AUs that always show up in bad fanfiction by authors attempting to be serious: what if the Sesame Street gang had to deal with ICE, what if Po started haemoraging while hanging-out with Laa-Laa, what if Peppa Pig learned that she was adopted and her real parents were brutally murdered as part of gang war because they were heroin dealers and so on. (The best skewering of this edgelord comedy is still probably either Andrew Hussie’s Muppet Babies/Saw comic or any encounters the Shortpacked staff ever had with the Transformers: Buckets of Blood guy.) In Harry Potter, Rowling built a wonderful little fantasy world that ran happily on the logic of fairy tales and fairy stories, and then decided she was never going to be taken seriously as an author unless she introduced Hitler to the equation. And it never works for her. It’s not like it couldn’t have worked. The Lord of the Rings is famously a very different book from The Hobbit. It did, in fact, introduce Hitler into a little fantasy world but Tolkien made it work by abandoning huge portions of the Hobbit’s tone, style, and structure: he wrote a completely different book. Frodo isn’t scarfing-down Bertie Bott’s Every Flavoured Beans on the slopes of Mount Doom. The moment, say, Cedric Diggory lay dead in Harry’s arms, we needed to never meet Mundungus Fletcher ever again, or Weasley’s Gooftacular Prank Nonsense, or Ron getting Harry a book about love spells. All the very least that needed to go away, at least until the very end, because Rowling is not an author with the skill to keep the silly and the sublime on the same page. That’s fine in and of itself: all artistic people have strengths and weakness, nobody is skilled at every element of creation. J.M. Barrie was very good at writing a book about an eternal child, but a bit crap at writing a biography about his mother. Arthur Sullivan spent his life quietly seething no one wanted to listen to Ivanhoe instead of The Mikado. There’s a reason Jerry Lewis never released The Day the Clown Cried. Virginia Wolfe is a great writer, but that doesn’t mean she would have written a great run on She-Hulk. [Although now that I’ve said it I can’t think of anything I want to read more.] There’s a great bit in the Lord of Rings after the Shire has been scoured of Saruman where the Hobbits essentially open-up their larders and allow people to have fun again; there’s also a nice bit slightly earlier where Great King Aragorn puts on his old Strider clothes just so he can be his D&D character again: when series change tone, unless you’re really good at walking on a knife’s edge, the quieter, gentler, lighter world isn’t gone forever, but it does have to go away for a while: which means its time to tamp-down on the people with silly names and personalities - like Slughorn, who slips into book six like the second-coming of the vain and silly Lockhart, even though that’s the book where Dumbledore dies.

Rowling keeps trying to makes her old tone fit with her new world without having to pull a Tolkien and actually write differently, which produces moment after moment of tonal whiplash in which the latest Potter-related movie literally involves referencing the holocaust but she also drops some fun trivia about wizards shitting on the floor like animals. (You could describe the entirety of the first Fantastic Beasts film as Tonal Whiplash: The Motion Picture. I’d say that’s an essay for another day but I do not want to have to watch that movie again.)

It needs to be said that a primary reason these tone shifts ‘don’t work’ for Harry Potter is that the logic of a fairy tale is different than the logic of a mundane story. The logic of a fairy tale tends to be self contained: it doesn’t have a smart ass running around asking questions like ‘why’ because there is no why; a thing is the way it is because it is the way it is. Fairies steal babies on the third Sunday of every month, and nobody in the story asks ‘well what about in countries that use different calendars, and what about the shift from Julian to the Gregorian calendar that skipped eleven days?’ because such a pedantic question has no substance in a fairy-tale world. The Clever Child might question what the fairies need with babies, but she’s not about to break-down the week-to-week investment metrics on the Fairyland Infant Exchange. It’s not that one cannot critique or bring critical thinking to fairy stories; it’s that in a fairy story you don’t ask how the sewer system works because it’s not pertinent to what the story is trying to convey. It’s being the guy at the book club who is mad nobody wants to discuss his theories on the music of Rush: its not that the theories are bad, it’s that in this time and place they are of limited relevance. Harry Potter, however, does not belong to to the world of fairy stories, but to the legacy of Tolkienesque fantasy - the world of

In The Hobbit nobody would ever ask if Hobbiton had sewers - it’s not important, and if you ask those kind of questions expecting there to be a serious answer of grave import you’re being a twit. Lord of the Rings, though? Not only is it a valid question, but Tolkien probably wrote a paper explaining the etymology of the Westron word for ‘sewer’ and how sewers were first invented by Shítlívær the Noldor as a way of helping the Blessed Isles cope with all the crap that tumbled out of Fëanor’s mouth.

The world of The Hobbit is one you could enter and expect to quickly find yourself on an adventure. The world of The Lord of The Rings is one you could enter, walk-about, and study without anyone ever exepecting you to solve some sort of regionally-disturbing social problem: in short, it wants you to be invested in the existence of its world in a different way than The Hobbit. Even then, although The Lord of the Rings is more grounded than The Hobbit, it is not so grounded that it doesn’t leave room for mystery, and questions that refute Wittgenstein’s assertion that all questions must be answerable. Tolkien loved to create complex worlds, but there was stuff he knew wasn’t worth elaborating on. It’s really his fans and authorial heirs who developed the somewhat worrying belief that a good worldbuilder has to have an answer to literally every question or else didn’t think their world through. (This has killed more potentially good books than bad cover art ever has.)

The Lord of the Rings leaves room for The Undiscovered Country. Harry Potter wants too… but can’t. Firstly, Rowling obviously understands the need for what we might call poetic mystery - like the gateway in the somewhat unsubtly name Department of Mysteries - but she also wants you to know how wizards pooped three hundred years ago. You get the feeling she knows exactly how and why that gate works, and what it is, but she withheld the knowledge because she likes mystery’s aesthetic more than she ascribes to any idea that an author might have lacunæ in the knowledge of their own work. That is, she would never put something into her work that she didn’t have an answer for - for her there is no undiscovered country that exists beyond the knowledge of even the author; she is an omniscient deity. Not for her is C.S. Lewis’ insistence that for her characters: All their life in this world and all their adventures had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on for ever: in which every chapter is better than the one before. Rowling knows exactly what happens to every one of them from the moment they were born to the moment the rot in the ground and the day-to-day schedules of their lives in heaven. Secondly - and far more of an issue - is that Harry Potter becomes a world that invites you to pick up each part of its structure and think about it, because the author has - with loving care - built that entire world for you to interact with. A place for everything, and everything its place. Except JK Rowling is a lazy thinker who never, ever considers the consequences of anything she says. Nagini is actually an Asian woman cursed to live as a snake, wizards used to magically disappear their shit from wherever they just stood and shat it out, Hermione Granger can have a time travel device to attended a bunch of classes but Harry can’t grab one off a nearby shelf and go back fifteen minutes and save his godfather, and nor a few years later can the Minister for Magic’s protection detail keep them on hand to go back half an hour and tell their past selves ‘Hey Voldemort is about to walk in here and kill y’all thought you ought to know.’ No author can work-out every aspect of every element in their works - that’s impossible, and why ARGs are solved by the internet hivemind in half a day even though they took a far smaller group of minds months to devise. But Rowling is intellectually lazy - she adds the holocaust to her Magic Fun Land without sparing a single moment to think that idea through. She then gets defensive when confronted by the suggestion that her worldbuilding might have been shallow. Hey your American wizard houses seem a bit racist also America doesn’t really use the house system in its schools - and her response was to lash out and not listen. Rowling tried to move Potter from a fairy logic world with its own rules into our world with our rules and our history but she doesn’t know our history very well, or even our rules, so she tells us wizards shat on the floor until the 18th century while the rest of us sit around going ‘but humans have never done that as social groups - even in horrible slums and facility-free prison cells humans create a designated place for taking a shit even if it’s just ‘that corner over there.’ We don’t just drop pants and go whenever!” This is because, as a worldbuilder, J.K. Rowling is actually kind of rubbish.

#Tumblr #J.K. Rowling #Harry Potter #Harry Potter and the philosopher’s stone #wizards #muggles #the wizarding world #Charity Burbage #Severus Snape #Voldemort #shit #time turner #Enid Blyton #L.M. Boston #C.S. Lewis #Hogwarts #long post

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