#but it felt less like an active condoning and more like the author just wanted this thing to be over

[trickstarbrave]

rly sucks they released "the emperor and the paladin" on webtoon bc now i have to regularly see ppl taking potshots at it framing it as "woman abuser SAs her childhood friend and then the rest of the story makes excuses for her" when in reality the bulk of the story is her backstory which is absolutely horrific and shows just how broken she is as a person. she is so traumatized shes entirely irrational or delusional. she hates herself and thinks her boyfriend (THEY WERE IN LOVE PRIOR TO THIS IDK WHY EVERYONE FRAMES IT LIKE HE DOESNT EVEN LIKE HER???) hates her and was leading her on and left her for another woman.

like for perspective the biggest thing that happened to her was her mother was poisoned and then she begged and pleaded to be able to bury her mother properly. so they said they would. and locked her in a room with her mother's corpse for a month. while shes screaming and begging to be let out. along with more shit.

this isnt to say the story doesnt have problematic elements or that i think it was good. it is super fucking rushed at the ending to the point i think it undermines the story, some parts do excuse the shit she is doing to other ppl who dont really deserve it, and i dont think her husband is going to have a very happy life. but this is a story about a deeply psychologically disturbed woman.

however because its on webtoon which has such a large audience of mostly teenagers and young adults who dont give a shit abt thinking abt things they just see her being horrible and go "this comic glorifies abuse!!! because there is abuse in it and shes the main character!!!" which is a really dumb argument to make.

my point with this is really this badly written dark series abt an abuse victim going on to be an abuser due to how fucked up she is psychologically rly shouldnt have ended up on webtoon

[wh6res]

chase — renhyuck

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

tw bullying, violence, swearing, yandere themes, possessive themes, blood, weapons (a gun, a grenade), implied noncon, implied kidnapping, mentions of stalking

disc i dont condone this behavior

wc 5k

‏‏‎ ‎

29 hours before the annual purge

“hold her down—i said hold her down, idiot!”

putting everything into account, they saw you more like a glorified chew toy than an actual person. 

they ruined your life simultaneously and it's ironic, that despite being sworn rivals, it seems you were their neutral ground—after one has had their own fun, you’re passed on to the other person so they can deliver that final, shattering blow that weakens your resolve. 

it was meant to be that way because it had always been that way. you’re the unlucky loser that ignited the worse sides of both lee haechan and huang renjun. 

they’re like oil and water; they don’t mix but with you, they found a compromise. stealing your lunch money, trashing your homework, quickies in between lectures. all of these should’ve been enough to give them a good power trip. but they’ve developed a hunger so severe that these past instances are but mere crumbs that hardly satisfy their cravings. 

it was beyond exhausting, being caught in between two headstrong people that were unwilling to back down at any cost. their aggression and anger towards each other directly being channeled onto you as they shove and swing you around like some ragdoll. 

you weren’t a bunch of kids, you knew that. you don’t cry and sob and say that it’s unfair, you hold your chin high and walk up to the guidance counselor’s office to report them for bullying. but you never should’ve underestimated the power of money and their respective families’ broad network of connections. 

without a doubt, the empty promises for justice is what broke your heart the most. it breaks with every bruise, every tight grip, and every nasty name the people willingly turned a blind eye to. 

it’s sad but it was a reality you taught yourself to get used to—the meek mouse learning how to evade the cats hot on her trail. 

but you weren’t as lucky today. 

“i am holding her down.”

a pair of lips comes in contact with your neck. its feathery and light at first until its biting down to mark you with his teeth. not too strong to draw blood, but enough to dent the surface of the skin. 

haechan has an oral fixation. biting his lips. his nails. whenever you see him, he always has a lollipop on his mouth and if he doesn’t, he’s painting hickeys across your skin. you hated his oral fixation, especially when makeup and clothes proved useless to hide the marks he gives you. 

“why run?” renjun asks you, slipping his fingers underneath your skirt as he kneels. “you know you have nowhere to hide in the campus.”

haechan snorts. “or anywhere else.”

it’s always the same thing. you go to school. you sit in your first period for thirty minutes until one of them shows up. then the other boy probably felt a gut instinct that he’s missing out on the fun. last time, it was an empty classroom in the abandoned left wing. 

they like taking you there all the time, it was always dark, the blinds pulled and shut tight. not to mention it was incredibly dusty. but both male knew you’re afraid of the dark, exactly why it’s their favorite spot. but empty classrooms and supply closets are close seconds, too. 

“you’re so pathetic. useless—only know how to whine like a fucking pornstar,” he quickly comments, feeling you arch against him when renjun’s tongue comes in contact with the pearl between your legs. “my cumdump.”

you feel a sharp exhale against your lower lips. you shudder. renjun clicks his tongue in annoyance. “can you shut up? you’re making my dick soft with all that talking.”

but haechan had ignored him completely, blissfully ignorant of the petite boy’s frustrations as he angles your head up to crash his lips onto yours. when he slightly pulls away, still playfully nibbling your bottom lip, what he said next made your blood run cold. 

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6 hours before the annual purge

the price to pay for protection started rising again this year and you, much like your neighbors, are in a sense of turmoil. jamming the doors with cabinets and nailing your windows with wood is hardly enough to satisfy the gnawing feeling in your stomach. much less when you didn’t even have a weapon to wield other than a wooden bat and a cheap taser you bought on sale. 

“its not like anyone will be coming for you, right?” the little girl says, touching the randomest stuff in your apartment. her name was naeun and she never really liked pink and sparkles like most girls her age, maybe that’s why she took a liking to you. 

her mom works a 9 to 5 and her grandma stays with her on occasion. but the old lady loved to sleep, naeun said, so she gets the chance to slip out and come knocking on your door. you tried shooing her out of your apartment countless times but she’s stubborn. 

she reminds you of yourself. 

“well, i hope no one does.” you joked, putting on a turtleneck. 

naeun’s mom doesn't like you as much as it is, but if you yourself let naeun see the bruises on your skin? you’d hate yourself forever. “now, come on little missy, go back to your grandma. i need to head over to the bank to settle my protection fees.”

“but you just said no one is going to come for you anyway,” she whines stomping towards the door. “mom already settled ours yesterday becase grammy forced her to. mommy said it was just a waste of money because who’d bother to rob us anyway?”

a memory flashes in your head. two boys who’ve sandwiched you between them in the dark of a fucking supply closet at uni. wandering hands, labored whispers, curt giggles, one pair of lips trailing up your neck while the other up your inner thigh.

“needy kitty. i can’t wait for purge night.”

you needed that protection. that was no slip up because haechan never makes mistakes. if he wanted to make you feel like some animal on the run after catching a whiff of trouble then he sure is doing a good job. 

“hey! i think you just went someplace else there,” naeun says, nudging your side irritably to get your attention again. 

you try forcing out a chuckle but it doesn't work, still deeply peeved by a memory from last week replaying vividly in your mind. if they ever mean what they meant (which you know they do) then this is now more than just trying to get through the night—you have to survive, prepare, and pray neither of them finds you. 

“i think your grandma’s right in doing what she did, naeun. with humans, you’ll never know.”

and just like that naeun went silent, bid you goodbye, and disappeared behind the apartment door.

the bank was a quick walk from your apartment. you hardly broke much sweat and you even managed to stop by the grocery store to make some last-minute runs. the store’s nearly empty, deserted of any human being as the seconds slowly but surely ticked away. it was only when you walked past aisle seven did you pause, the hairs on your back standing as a slow chill crawled up your spine. 

you look over your shoulder. 

no one’s there. 

you swallow, quickly looking down your watch to check the time as you made your way to counter. 3 hours before the annual purge. you needed to get your ass moving. you just need to grab one more thing and you’ll best be on your way. 

you practically ran towards the dairy section and just as you spin around, strawberry ice cream pint in your hands, you jump as he appears before you in thin air and you drop whatever you’re holding. 

“such a skittish little kitten,” renjun clicks his tongue, bending down to retrieve the ice cream on the floor. “here you go.”

you couldn’t even stare at him in the eye. your hands shook but it wasn’t because of the cold desert. now you get it. it’s his eyes you felt on you earlier, ever intrusive and piercing as he watched you from afar. was he stalking you?

“i didn’t quite catch a thank you, kitty.”

how foolish of you to think he’ll let you duck away without at least speaking to him, hm?

“thank… thank you?”

renjun grins, satisfied with your stuttering as he raises a hand to ruffle your hair—he ignores how you flinched away from him—before walking away with one hand in his coat pocket, whistling an eerie tune that can haunt your nightmares way after purge night. 

“see you later, kitten.”

if it wasn’t the whistling that set you on edge or that clear promise of your doom—it’s the pack of zip ties and duct tape in his hands.‏‏‎ ‎

you were watching a rerun of your favorite morning reality tv when it cuts to the dreaded blue screen showing the flag of korea. 

this is not a test.

this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the south korean government. 

weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the purge. all other weapons are restricted. 

commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours. 

police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning until 7 am when the purge concludes. 

may god be with you all.

you’ll never get used to the blaring siren that echoes through the empty streets. you can feel the floor vibrating and it travels throughout your whole body as the dread starts sinking deep into your skin. 

you’ve already double checked all your windows and the front door. activated the security system provided by the bank. and you’ve also already charged your taser and have hammered down nails into your wooden bat. fine. if they wanted to scare and bully you into a panicked frenzy, it did its job but fuck no will you go down without a fight. 

you shut all the lights, the apartment basking in the moonlight glow brought by the translucent curtains as you make your way to your bedroom, nearest the emergency exit just in case they barge through your front door by force. 

at first, nothing happened. it was peaceful. tranquil. you can hear a pin drop with how quiet it was. both inside and outside. you were almost tempted to cover your mouth in case you were breathing too loud. 

it’s silent. until it wasn’t.

your phone rings. it’s there, vibrating on your desk and you make long strides until you’re face to face with a set of numbers on your screen. an unregistered contact. there’s a debate inside your head whether to answer it or not, fingers hovering between the red and green button… until it eventually lands on the green. 

you put it up to your ear, hands sweating as you wait with bated breath for the person on the other end to speak. 

“kitten?”

it’s renjun. you don’t answer. 

“i can hear you breathing, you know. i can’t wait to see you. we’ll have so much fun together. it’s sad that i have to share with that imbecile but better half of you than nothing of you, right?” he laughs and you feel a rush of anger surge through you. yet, you don’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply. 

“i can see you’re angry, little kitty. while it’s cute and hot… don’t be. turn that frown upside down for me, wouldn’t you?”

but the blinds are drawn he couldn’t have seen you—

“you’re never going to get me, you fucking bastard. i’m not scared of you,” you sure do hope he can’t hear the tremble in your voice. “whatever you plan on doing to me, you’ll fail.”

you walk back slowly, eyes darting everywhere to look for a camera they could’ve installed in your room. they have connections and the money to do it so you won’t put it past them. 

“oh, my stupid kitty. how can we fail when we already got a head start?” 

the floorboard behind you creaks and before you could turn around, someone slams your head against the desk. you hear a crack, whether it’s the screen of your laptop or your nose, you couldn’t tell. the person is agile and silent as he maneuvers you to the ground and seals your lips with duct tape. 

“after all,” haechan giggles. “you can’t lock out what’s already inside, kitten.”

your phone lands somewhere near your head. renjun has already dropped the call and the line goes silent. 

squirming, you glared at the person on top of you. is this how you’re gonna go? you can’t deny, even you yourself find this pathetic. the security alarms you bought, the nail-studded bat, your taser, everything was all for naught? just because you didn’t check under your bed to make sure no one was there?

how long was haechan waiting? when naeun was still here? when you went out to buy groceries? 

you thought it would be fear you’ll be feeling as you get caught but the emotion isn’t present at all. instead, it’s white hot anger that overrides your system and forces you to act without thinking—and it just fucking saved your life. 

haechan always saw you as a vulnerable, sad little human being who couldn’t do shit on her own. it’s easy to underestimate you and that’s his first mistake. 

the second is rather foolish—not tying your legs up first. it’s all too easy to slam your forehead against his before jerking your leg up to knee him in the balls. 

you can see the anger in his eyes clear as day as you made a run for it to the kitchen, having come up with another escape plan—because surely if you went down the emergency exit, haechan would’ve caught up easily with those long legs after he’s recovered from your assault. 

your nose was probably bleeding and your head is in the early stages of a full blown migraine, at least you were able to function enough to wobble your way towards the trash chute situated near the stove. you had cursed that chute the first day you moved in here (who would put a trash chute next to a fucking stove) but the day has come for you to thank the gods that you have that in your house. 

going for a swim in all your neighbors’ trash is disgusting and unplanned (plus, falling down maybe six floors to your doom) but you’ll choose that over lee haechan and huang renjun any day. 

“don’t you dare fucking think about it!”

you flashed him the middle finger to tick him off. a petty retaliation for all the bullshit he and renjun put you through but it felt good nonetheless. 

“catch me if you fuckers can.”

and you were falling down the trash chute.‏‏‎ ‎

okay, yeah—maybe you should’ve thought it through before hurling yourself six floors down only for some half-filled dumpster to catch you but at least you’re still alive, right? alive and free, mind you. but you don’t have time to celebrate. 

it smelled awful and you swear your knees and elbows are bruised but you scramble to climb out and run away as fast as you can. 

it was only haechan inside your apartment. no sign of renjun but he did see you somehow and you have no doubt it was a camera inside that room. you didn’t have much time to ponder for how long they were installed in your room. it’s the least of your worries at the moment.

you’re outside. 

during purge night.

even if you did manage to escape it felt more like a win than a lose, forced out of your own apartment in nothing but shorts and a shirt—heck, you don’t even have shoes on!—it felt like they won. again. 

if you’re not going to die in the hands of some other wacko, you’ll die of hypothermia. how nice. 

you didn’t know where you were running to, the only thing you knew was you need to get the hell out of this neighborhood as fast as you can. you didn’t want to run in alleyways and risk getting stabbed for fun. maybe the sewer system… oh, right. you don’t have your phone on you and it’ll probably be pitch black down there. 

you really, truly, genuinely didn’t want to run so out in the open but it was the best you can impulsively come up with. 

when you feel like you’ve put a reasonable distance between you and the apartment, you stop, hands resting flat on your knees as you crouch to catch a breath. just as quick the adrenaline appeared as fast as it had disappeared. you feel the weight and tension crushing your legs, not to mention you’re really starting to feel that headache settle after headbutting haechan. 

you almost collapse against the brick wall. 

the last person you ever thought you’ll see jumps out from the corner of the alleyway and you almost broke their nose. 

until you saw who it was. 

“NAEUN?”

their apartment got raided, some buffy sickos who they had the misfortune of breaking into their house to purge. luckily they got away, but after getting attacked on the streets, naeun got separated after she ran for her life just like you did. you can’t help but feel sorry for the little girl, who experienced the full effect of this godforsaken holiday. 

this is bad. you can’t leave her but it’s tough enough to have to fend for yourself. you’re not so sure whether you can protect another human being but you’ll have to try. 

“did your mom or grandma tell you anything? anything at all?” you ask, crouching to her eye level. “you said your mom knew the way… where? what do you mean?”

“mom said they’re providing refuge on the other side of town but it’s a 30-minute drive. walking would take longer.”

shit. you didn’t want to risk it. you don’t have a car and you’d rather die right here right now than walk another step out in the streets—

“who’s ‘they’?”

“i don’t… i don’t know. she didn’t say.”

you licked your chapped lips. you can’t trust what she’s saying, not when you didn’t even know these people. it’s too risky, not to mention you’re already running from not one, but two people.

naeun sits next to you against the bricked wall of the alley, looking down at her lap. “i’m scared,” she admits. you hear a tremble in her voice. “are mom and grammy de—”

“no,” you cut her off, pulling her tiny body against yours. when you feel her fists clutching your jacket, you swear to protect this girl with your life. “no, they’re not. i’m sure they’re heading there now to the refuge center just like we are.”

her head pokes out, looking up towards you. “we’re going? i thought you didn’t want to.”

you shake your head, wiping her tears. “well, it’s the one way for you to meet your mom and grammy, right?”‏‏‎ ‎

walking down the streets during purge night—man, this has got to be the most ballsy thing you’ve ever done after that one time you spat at renjun in the eye. you managed to find a litter of bodies way into thirty minutes of walking and you nearly sent naeun flying onto the asphalt with how hard you pushed her back. she couldn’t see this mess, you’d be damned to allow a nine-year-old walk right into psychological trauma. 

you pocket a gun—you didn’t have enough courage to fight with a knife. you wiped the blood off using your shirt before shoving them down onto the garter of your shorts. you didn’t bother to take their shoes, none of them would’ve fit you anyway and it’ll just slow you down. 

“hey, are you alright? is that blood—”

“it’s not mine, naeun. come on, let’s get moving.”

for two hours you walked towards this mysterious refuge center on the other side of town and both you and naeun managed to evade death three times. 

the first attack: a group of high schoolers with their uniforms on. there were three of them, about your height, and while you weren’t responsible for the blood on your shirt, you’re not so sure about their lot. they looked crazy, excited even, but sloppy in the way they flung their knives and bats around. their first purge, you assumed, so it was fairly easy to take them down. a bullet to the head worked like a charm. naeun didn’t say anything when you urged her out of her hiding place to flee the scene. three bullets left. 

the second attack: it was a surprise, one that got you stabbed in the shin of your right leg. it was a drunkard with a knife, you could smell him as you walked past by his slumped form in the sidewalk. he wasn’t moving, so you thought he was dead and it was poor judgement on your part. it’s pathetic getting injured this way, you thought, but at least it was you who faced the consequences and not naeun. two bullets left.

the third attack: two men but deadlier than the girls and the drunk. you didn’t get to reason out with either of them, not when they drove their cadillac at 140 miles per hour and nearly ran you over. a chill crept up your spine when you saw the bloody, naked women strapped down onto the hood. victims. you didn’t engage in any form of combat, it’s impossible, so you took naeun in your arms and ran straight to the back alleys. number of bullets remain the same.

three lucky strikes. 

three times you’ve cheated death. 

but time is up and your luck has run out. 

“beating up a girl? what a coward, if you ask me,” you say, spitting out a tooth after someone kneed you in the face. you were in no position to say such things when they’ve got you busted up and bloody, left eye swollen after one hard punch. 

naeun is nowhere to be seen. 

good. 

who knows what these assholes could’ve done to her. you told her to run so she better fucking run and make sure she lives through this nightmare. 

another kick flies to your ribs and you lie sprawled on the dirty pavement of an alleyway—what an uncool way to die but at least you’ll die with a clear conscience. 

you passed by city hall a few minutes ago. surely, the refuge center is not too far from there. naeun will make it safe. she’ll make it. 

“what’s that look on her face? is she dead?”

another one scoffs. “well… if they’re after her then she’s as good as dead.”

you blacked out. ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎

you hate the scent of disinfectant. it crawls up your nose and you hate how the stench is so strong you can taste it on your tongue. this isn’t heaven, not when you know you’re better off burning in hellfire.

unless you weren’t dead—your eyes shoot open, sitting up in haste as you clutch the thin blanket. 

rows upon rows of the same cot you were lying on greets you. people injured, some standing, some sitting. there were people treating them, too, but they were in normal clothes so this can’t be a hospital. in fact, it looked like you’re in some warehouse, stacks of metal crates sealing off all entrances. 

“it’s the refuge,” you whisper. 

“you’re awake!” before you could even turn around, a body launches itself onto you and nearly makes the cot collapse. judging by the small frame and the pitchy voice—

“naeun, be careful!” her mother hisses but the girl in between your arms couldn’t care less. if she’d been an adult, she’d be squeezing the life out of you. when she pulls you closer, your healing ribs made a strike of pain surge through you. 

you groan, bowing in the pain. distantly, you can hear the mother and daughter fighting and it was a banter you’ve never experienced with your own mom. it nearly made you tear up from the overwhelming wave of emotions you were feeling but all else disappears when a person tenderly grips your shoulder. 

“thank you for taking care of my granddaughter.” the old lady was smiling appreciatively as she stared at you. 

that was it. it could’ve been the happy ending to a gruesome and bloody storyline—it should’ve been, family of three reunites again and that was all thanks to you, right?

but even heroes have their own bad endings. 

you heard the ticking of the grenade only seconds before it detonates. the other refugees didn’t even have the time to take cover as some closest to the sealed doors were sent flying so far back they crashed into the row of crates behind you. 

you were severely injured, limping, ribs broken, and you only had one good eye to rely on—yet the first thing you thought of was protecting naeun. maybe the midget had a way of worming herself into your heart. but before you even push yourself off the cot, a figure emerges from the smoke. 

petite and harmless, pretty as the tips of his hair grazed porcelain cheekbones. renjun’s eyes are as cold and calculating as can be and it’s the only thing that terrifies you to no end. when he opens his mouth, anger is hidden well underneath that calm tone. 

“i’ll give you one minute to come here willingly.”

there’s no room for bargain, he needn’t when he knows you have absolutely nothing to offer him but yourself. he doesn’t finish his sentence but he trusts you’re smart enough to figure out the silent threat—come, or he’ll turn this place into a fucking bloodbath. 

cornered and weak, defenseless. weird how they have a fixation for calling you ‘kitty’ when they’re the cats in this chase. 

“naeun,” you whisper, trying to crane your neck to look for her in the filth of rocks and debris. please don’t be hurt.

you freeze when you feel a barrel pointing at your head. it was only there for seconds, haechan probably doesn’t have the guts to hurt you in any way permanently (unless it’s inflicted with his own hands and not through some other medium). 

“ah, look. now we have matching black eyes,” he giggles like a madman, craning your neck up and the leather in his globes brings discomfort to your skin. 

you see the way the other refugees looked at you—scum, dirt on their feet that brought about trouble in their lives. they were already badly hurt as it is and now, this happened? you don’t blame them. 

not one man tried to stand up for you as haechan hauls you up and throws you down on renjun’s feet. your ribs were screaming and you’re cold and so, so afraid. with shaky fingers, you gestured towards the crowd. “just... please, don’t hurt them. they don’t have anything to do with this.”

renjun coos. such a cruel smirk for a pretty face. “aw, such an angel my darling is. always thinking of others instead of her own safety. funny because i don’t think you’ve ever done such a thing for me and haechan, though. i wonder why...”

the latter digs his heel in your injured legs and you scream as black starts to surround the corners of your vision. you tried to crane your neck back, pleading eyes wanting to look at the assaulter but renjun’s calloused hand is gripping your chin too tight.

“should we make a bargain, kitten?”

you stare deep into renjun’s eyes. he knows you don’t have anything left, he can see it in your glassy eyes, too wide and vulnerable. he’s doing this all for show, trying to make you even more desperate and self-aware of your eventual demise.

and you thought haechan was the only cunning one.

“what… what bargain?"

renjun practically gleams in pride. “i’ll let everyone walk free—even your precious little naeun—that’s her name, right? the little girl you’ve been protecting the whole night?—we’ll let her and everyone in this building walk away unharmed. that’s my bargain. you know how those work, right? now, you need to give me something i want.”

forcing you to offer yourself up to them.

what a brutal way to crush your pride.

choice wasn’t an option. if you don’t oblige and choose to run away on your own, they’ll kill them and still hunt you down. you gotta say, it was a tempting bargain that appealed to the sense of heroics in your heart. naturally, you have to choose where there is less blood shed. and as renjun lets go of your chin and lets you look over your shoulder to meet little naeun’s eyes, how she sobbed against her mother’s arms and shook her head and screamed…

“hurry, kitten. i don’t like to be kept waiting.”

you know what needs to be done.

“me. i’ll give you… me.”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎

they stood playing a game of pool in the dead of night. it’s peaceful inside the estate while the city beyond rampaged and burned. they achieved their goal, had finally seen an end to a plan that had been set in motion for years. they’ve succeeded and the broken woman lying on the bed meters from the pool table is proof of their victory. 

“don’t you just love it when an elaborate plan works like clockwork, injun?” he asks, voice like trickling honey as he hits number 9 with the cue ball. 

the other, more petite male, rolls his eyes but doesn’t disagree. “oh, please, people like us always triumph, donghyuck. it’s nothing new. although i am surprised that little girl and her so-called “family” played along so well. almost had me fooled.”

“i agree. it's such a shame they had to go.”

‎

taglist !!

@hoeartchoke @donghyukcore @stopknot @greenish-taro @zhongriot @lmaoskz @zephyr-abyss @anonymous-stuff @josuke8 @jaemotel @winwiniee​ @dundun-baby @nakamotocore @hcwurld @alaeddis @recs-for-later @jaehyunssslut

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‎

jenoluck (c) all rights reserved

[a-slut-for-smut]

R u an ichiruki? I’m still salty about the ending lmao I can’t believe it. Do you know any IR blogs and any archive/library (fics) blog?

Also, recommendations of IR for horny jail pls

Hello fellow ichiruki anon!

Yup, big sloppy slut for ichiruki indeed, ill honestly go down with this ship despite that shipwreck of an ending. I'll admit i didnt follow the anime/manga entire as it dragged on with filler arcs and life got busy etc, but when i heard about the ending i thought i was having a fucking stroke, i still cannot make sense of it to this day (nor do i want to because my brain actively works to delete this kind of dumbfuckery from my memory). While its such a shame how it ended and spiritually i wanna be outside kubo's house like

...but then I take a deep breath and just tell myself titty kubo had a brain aneurysm and just leave it at that.

ANYWAY to your ask- full disclaimer when i was primetime ichiruki slut i was just a lurker, and this was YEARS ago but ill do my best to help ya out. I do follow some ichiruki peeps from back then but they more or less have moved to other ships/interests, but the ones below seem more active IR blogs from what i can tell:

@dangerousbride IR fanart/comics. Love her artstyle and always will @jellyribbons IR artist, gorgeous gorgeous art @hashtagartistlife IR artist/writer. Big slut for her work

@ichiruki good IR treats, very active @ichirukilover good IR treats, very active

Now im actually not aware of any IR archive library blog, but if there is one i would also be curious to know! @ ichiruki fandom, can anyone help us out???

And to the last part of your ask re: IR horny jail fic recs, there are 2 things you should know:

1. I am so out of date when it comes to the latest fics, and i mean by YEARS. So any i recommend will be old but obviously TASTY AF

2. At the time a lot of smut fics were "post-686" "fix-it" naturally, but a lot dealt with blatant adultery/infidelity. Now anyone who knows me i have a mutual respect kink. Not just to how my OTPs have towards each other, but for ppl they care about. While the smut was amazingly written/angst-ridden and im a total angst slut too, part of me had a hard time really investing myself in those fics as I personally cant condone cheating ever, because i know from experience how utterly it can destroy a person. So in general, my fic recs will be AU/canon divergent. AUGH i lament how kubo didnt make the ending open-ended, it would have been so much better :( Also in my headcanon i like to think despite IR being soulmates, they have utmost integrity to not hurt ppl they care about despite their immense love for each other, and that folks is some sweet sweet angst/doomed romance. Actually if anyone knows any fics like that pls share!!!

OKAY HERES THE IR SMUT FEST, ENJOY!!!

Unveiled by@hashtagartistlife God tier IR smut. Like seriously, this one is BEAN-FLICKIN good yaknowwhatimsayin Winter Warmth by@gunnerpalace Starts fluffy but then HOTHOTHOT The Two-Body Problem also by@gunnerpalace I remember how well-written the sexual tension building between IR was, i FELT their anticipation and anxiousness around each other. I think the smut chapter is actually on their blog and not on Ao3 for some reason! Nurse Rukia by Aquari Lynnel (MazokuSempai) Premise is a little silly/kinky but has all the good stuff :D The Red String That Binds by DeathMeetsLife Actually this one isnt really smutty but i HAVE to rec due to the sweet sweet angst scenario i just went on about because this is an angst FIESTA. BUT no cheating as Kazuo and Ichika are actually IR baby twins but are separated from birth...i wont spoil just READ its so good The Parting Glass by Darksknight LOL ok this isnt even primarily IR more Orihime x Ulquiorra, and actually is post 686/fix it BUT i had to rec because a) Orihime is given some fuckin agency her character deserved and i really like the authors take on her/POV b) the author is fuckin hilarious and on point with all the characterizations c) this fic is a fuckin gem, seriously just read it you wont have any regrets trust me

fuck me this post was long and i am sooooo behind on shit i needa do gotta end it here, hopefully this helps anon!!! xoxo

[caramelcal]

Trained for Sin

Ship: Luke Patterson x Reader {fwb}

Word Count: 3.58k (i did not mean for this to be so long)

a/n: yes well...here’s this...(READ THE WARNINGS) enjoy lovelies x 

WARNINGS: friends with benefits theme, heavily implied sexual activities (not any proper smut though), swearing DO NOT READ THIS IS YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH THESE THINGS!!!

disclaimer: i do not condone plagiarism on my work at all, this has not been posted on any other platforms, or on tumblr anywhere else but my account (rosemoonmist) if you see anyone plagiarizing mine (or anyone else’s work) please inform the rightful author ! thank you lovelies x

Masterlist   Part Two (optional)

The spontaneous meetings that you had with Luke were exhilarating, whether it be in a bed, on the kitchen counter, or in a public bathroom, it didn’t matter. There was a deal that you guys had made after your first hook-up, and mostly it was for Luke to just blow off steam but you certainly got its benefits too. Sure, it was very well-known that Luke was a bit of a fuck boy, but he didn’t like it going around school every time he had sex with a girl. That’s why he only did it with you, a way for him to have a release, but without the rumors or real commitment.

For the first two months, you were fine with that. You were more than fine with that. Yet, as the months went on, the adrenaline that you had experienced at the start of the deal was not as strong, what was stronger was your longing for more. Currently, that was all you felt as you looked at him.

He had his back turned towards you, you still wrapped up in the sheets of his bed, watching his back muscles flex as he grabbed and put his muscle tee back on. During your time with Luke, every single piece of attention he had was on you, and you liked that, but after he was finished, it was like you never even existed. You would normally get a few words, telling you that he would text you next time he needed you, and the occasional goodbye, but you wanted more.

Even though you and Luke never actually talked, you were always quite good at reading people. Luke was more difficult but the more you paid attention to his mannerisms, the way he walked, and the way he interacted with his friends you knew quite a few quirks that he did when he was feeling certain ways. That’s how you knew what to expect from him when you met up with him.

You weren’t entirely sure of the reason that Luke didn’t want a relationship but you often found yourself pondering it. Maybe he wasn’t ready for it, maybe he found himself too busy with the band but the most believable thing you had thought up was that Luke wasn’t the relationship type. He just wanted to fuck, no connections or attachments whatsoever and he got that with you, maybe that’s why he kept you around.

“I’ll text you later. Maybe we can meet up after band practice if you’re free,” Luke commented, not even turning to face you whilst he continued to pick up things, getting ready. He situated his beanie on his head, grabbing his flannel and a few other things before heading towards his bedroom door, “my mom and dad aren’t home, you can let yourself out. You have your key, right?”

Ah yes, your key. The key to Luke’s front door that he gave you after a month of you guys ‘seeing’ each other. He needed for you to be easy access, so if that meant giving you a key then so be it.

“Yeah,” You replied to the boy, who left without another word, much less saying goodbye. You were used to it unfortunately, Luke was often like this and only gave a goodbye if he was in an extra good mood, which wasn’t as often as you would have liked it to be. After hearing the front door shut, you sighed heavily, taking your time to get out of Luke’s bed, still very much nude, and making your way over to his dresser.

Opening it up, you reached for the back part, which was carefully hidden away from sight which contained extra clothes for you to wear if need be and after Luke had ripped your shirt off of your body, you felt that you probably should change into something new. Your hand lightly graced over the top of a sweatshirt that was Luke’s, one he had given you after ripping your shirt off the first time and you didn’t have anything to wear. You remembered the feeling of comfort you felt when you had it wrapped around your figure.

Just imagine if you could have that all the time. Like those girls from school that wear their boyfriend’s stuff.

But you knew that couldn’t happen, not with Luke. You guys had a deal, there were no feelings or attachments so you couldn’t afford to be fantasizing about a romantic life with him. You guys were friends with benefits, but you were barely even friends.

. . .

“Listen, I’m telling you y/n, this new teacher is evil,” Your friend complained, grunting at the end of her sentence. Laughing a little, you looked over at her as you arrived at your lockers, “he gave us a pop quiz on his first day. THE FIRST DAY!”

You winced slightly for her. If the teacher was willing to give her a pop quiz on the first day, you can imagine thorough tests in her future, and a lot of them. Putting your last lesson’s books in your locker, you turn towards your friend again, “That sounds rough.”

“It is,” She agreed, shaking her head wildly as she closes her locker over before checking her watch, “I’m late for class though, and you’re going to be too. I’ll see you later.”

With that, she walked away, leaving you to pull out the textbooks you needed for your next subject before closing your locker over, “Hey.”

Your eyes shot up towards the voice as you jumped back away from them in fright before realizing who it was. Luke. He wasn’t wearing his usual beanie, and instead was keeping his hair plain and messy, just like it was after sex, sweat making the strands stick to his forehead.

Eyes trailing down to your books, you muttered quietly, “I thought it was part of the deal that we don’t talk in school.”

“It is but you weren’t replying to my texts and I really needed you last night,” Luke sighed, making you raise an eyebrow at him, not that he noticed. It had been three days since the day you had let yourself out of his house and since the last time you guys had interacted in any sexual activities.

You had been waiting for the text that he would send that night, getting you to get over to his house after band practice but the more you waited, the more you thought about it. It had gotten to the stage you were checking your phone for any new notifications every few minutes, and finding yourself more and more relieved when the notification never came. Sure, you had found the whole friends with benefits great at the beginning but you started to long for a more...romantic relationship. And you certainly wouldn’t class fucking Luke in a public bathroom romantic.

“Sorry,” You sighed unapologetically, eyes never moving up to meet Luke’s eyes which stayed firmly on you, watching as you fumbled with your textbooks, “I didn’t see your messages.”

That was a blatant lie but Luke didn’t need to know that. You had seen his message pop up on your phone screen last night, but you never bothered to tap into it or to reply. You found yourself pushing you away from your phone, keeping it further than arms distance s your hands didn’t work against you, and message him back, so that you didn’t end up over there, tangled up in his sheets whilst he walked out on you again.

“Well I have a band performance tonight, I can text you the address and you can meet me there, we can head back to mine?” Luke suggested, leaning coolly against the lockers as he spoke, seeing a hesitant and faint nod coming from your ducked head. A smirk arose onto his face as he spoke quieter, leaning closer to you, “Or we can go into the janitor’s closet right now.”

Head whipping up to look at him, his hazel eyes meet your widened ones, his smirk growing even bigger. He pushed himself off of the lockers, hands in the pockets of his jeans but you took one step backward and further away from him, shaking your head, “I’m late for class.”

“Oh come on y/n,” Luke tried to coerce, giving you a small groan with a pout. He reached out for your arm, grabbing it softly and giving you a small tug closer to him but you stayed firmly planted on the ground you stood on.

Luke was good at a lot of things, and normally you would cave but not today. Sure, you wouldn’t be completely objected to meeting up with him later, even if you didn’t completely want to but you would not do it with him right now. He had gotten good at getting what he wanted from you, but he would not be getting this, no matter how many pouts and puppy eyes he gave you.

“No.”

Luke pouted again, giving you a mocking pout but you averted your gaze making him whine a little, “Oh y/n/n, you’re no fun.”

Turning on your heels you started to walk away from him, noticing how deserted the hallways were, and suddenly realizing just how late for class you were. However, you didn’t speed up, walking calmly as you shouted over your shoulder, “Send me the address for your gig, Patterson.”

. . .

Logically, you knew that walking to the venue that Luke was playing at was the best option considering he would be driving you to his place. You knew that your car would most likely be abandoned at the venue if you did take it, and Luke probably wouldn’t give you a ride to get it afterward so you decided to walk instead. That’s probably why you arrived a little too early, Luke still performing when you got there.

You couldn’t dispute that Luke was a very talented musician but you guys never spoke about his band or the work he did for it. You knew that music would forever come first to Luke, over everything and anything as that was what he was truly passionate about, and seeing him in his element finally was nice.

Somehow, he managed to find you in the crowds, subtly smirking at you but only so you could tell. His eyes didn’t stay on you too long, and you weren’t too sure if that was because he didn’t want anyone to catch on or if he simply didn’t care but you were thinking the latter. You were just technically a ‘booty call’ after all, even if the term made you feel sick.

Thankfully, it wasn’t long before they all finished up and people filed out of the venue. You, of course, waited behind, knowing that Luke would not want to be seen getting into a car with a girl so you awkwardly waited about. It wasn’t long before the venue was practically empty, and you felt a ping of a notification causing your phone to vibrate.

go to the bar and ask for my keys, they know to give them to you

You texted back an okay before going to the bar and retrieving the keys, thanking the barman, and walking out to Luke’s car. There was only a handful of times that you had been in Luke’s car, actually, you could only count two. One was him driving you from where he met with you to a cafe because he left something there the previous day and one was from meeting up with you somewhere to go to his house.

You found yourself slouching down in the passenger seat of Luke’s car, head just peeking over the dashboard. The parking lot was pretty much abandoned, but you didn’t want to be caught by anyone in Luke’s car anyway, you couldn’t imagine Luke would be too pleased if you were.

Luke arrived out not long after, his hair slightly damp and you could only imagine that he had taken a shower out before meeting with you. How considerate. He took the car keys off of you, giving you a small thank you before he started up the car and started to drive without another word. You, personally, didn’t plan on breaking the silence, knowing that Luke did not like small talk so you weren’t about to start it.

Eyes trained on the road, you drummed your fingers on your thigh to the rhythm of the music that played quietly through the radio. That was until Luke pulled up at the side of the road. Confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and turned towards him, “What? Why did you stop?”

He turned towards you, giving you a small smile before caressing your cheek slightly and going into the backseat. From his position there, he leaned over and kissed you on the lips with a lot of force, grabbing at your shirt and tugging you softly towards him.

Breaking away from the kiss, you looked towards him knowing exactly what he was indicating. Opening your mouth in shock, you started to shake your head, “Luke we can’t do this in your car-”

“C’mon y/n, live a little.”

It wasn’t long until you clambered into the back of the car with Luke, him attaching your lips again but you felt him smirk into the kiss. He helped you out of your trousers and smirked at you, making direct eye contact as he did so. Then he ripped your top off and threw it to the side.

He was on top of you soon enough, one of your hands in his hair and one trailing down his back. You were both in minimal clothing, both with simply your underwear on. His hand left your waist side as he fumbled to get something from the pouch in his car, pulling out a condom.

Pulling away, you turn to look at the foil in his hands, your lips parting slightly. Luke put the foil down, but your eyes stayed on it as a hand hooked under your face. Your face was shifted up to make your eyes meet Luke’s hazel ones. He silently asked if you were okay, making you nod your head and send him a weak smile before he kissed you again. And there, another night with Luke begun.

However, today it was different. Sure, you felt the pleasure of having sex with Luke, but the adrenaline, the addictiveness wasn’t the same. It wasn’t as good as you remembered it. You thought that maybe you were just having an off day and you just weren’t really feeling it today but the more you thought about it the more unappealing it became. Luke was attractive for sure and you knew girls that would pay good money, betray their best friends and drop everything for the chance to fuck the hottest guy in school but the want wasn’t there for you anymore.

Breathing heavily, you felt Luke get up from his position on top of you, grabbing his jeans that had been disregarded under one of the seats, putting his shirt back on as he climbed back to the front. You looked at where he was, clearly waiting for you to get dressed and that’s what you did, hesitantly. However, you felt a blush rise to your cheeks in embarrassment as you thought about it. Shit.  

“Everything okay, y/n?” You heard Luke ask, eyes catching onto his through the rear-view mirror. Despite the dark lighting in the car hiding your deep crimson blush, he could still tell you were embarrassed.

“Luke I forgot to pack another shirt.”

His eyes went wide as you bit your lip, looking down at your lap, your arms crossing over your chest, trying your best to cover your naked torso. He quickly clambered out of the car, going into the trunk and getting something without another word before reaching into the car and passing you something. His sweatshirt.

E/c eyes meeting his hazel ones, you looked at him hesitantly, to which he moved the sweatshirt closer to you, encouraging you to take it. So you did. Once you were fully clothed, you moved back into the front of the vehicle, and Luke slid back into the driver's seat and started the car up without another word.

It wasn’t long before he took an unfamiliar turn, causing you to furrow your eyebrows, “Hey Luke, this isn’t the way back to yours. I think you took the wrong turn.”

“I’m not driving to mine, I’m taking you back home,” He commented, noticing but not commenting on the wide eyes and parted lips that you sent him way. He knew that he wasn’t the nicest guy, or the most affectionate, but did you really expect he would abandon you to find your own way home in the deep hours of the night?

But unknown to him, you did. You expected him to drive back to his, maybe have sex again, and leave you to find your own way home. Or if you were lucky, would drop you off on the main road, and walk half of the way home. However, you wouldn’t say that to him. You knew that Luke wasn’t a bad guy and you certainly didn’t want to hurt his feelings by saying something like that.

Once again, you both found your way into a silence that was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, simply listening to the quiet playing of the music on the radio. It was some punk rock channel because you knew how much Luke despised mainstream stuff. The only other sound you could hear was the occasional passing car.

“Hey, Luke?” You piped up, breaking the silence that the car held, despite the radio playing softly in the background. He kept his eyes on the road as he took another turn simply humming at you to let you know that he was listening, “Thanks. For the sweatshirt, I mean.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just give me it back when you come over to mine next time,” Luke said nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. Head ducking down, you simply nodded as you felt your stomach fall slightly, suddenly everything clicking into place.

You knew why you didn’t want to continue with Luke. You knew why you no longer enjoyed the sex anymore. And you knew exactly what you had to do.

. . .

It was the next day that you were sat outside of Luke’s house, apprehensive as to if you wanted to truly go through with this. Yet, you knew that you had to. With a parcel in hand, along with a small envelope containing a letter and your house key to Luke’s house, you walked up to the front of the house, going to place the parcel down. The overhang would protect it if it was to rain, or maybe you could just ring the doorbell and run away. Yet, in your moments of hesitation, the door was opened and you were faced with an older brunette woman.

“Oh hello, darling. Can I help you?” She asked, smiling sweetly at you. You knew exactly who this was, it was Emily, Luke’s mom.

“Yeah actually, you can,” You smiled sweetly at her despite your nerves, shifting front foot to foot. Despite knowing Luke for a while and being...involved with him for a few months, you had never actually met Emily before but just from the way she acted, you knew she was a great person. She was a real sweetheart to you anyway, “can you give this to Luke for me, please?”

“Luke is upstairs, you can give it to him yourself if you want,” She smiled back, stepping back almost silently inviting you to go into her house and deliver the parcel to Luke yourself.

However, that was the last thing you wanted to do. Having to awkwardly in person explain that you needed love and wanted romance, so you chickened out and wrote him a letter instead. But you knew that the letter would explain everything, and it would let Luke know that he didn’t do anything wrong, you couldn’t promise yourself that you would be able to do that in the heat of the moment. 

Profusely shaking your head, you held the parcel containing his sweatshirt out to her, “Oh no, no, no, I think it’s best I get on my way. I have stuff to do anyway. Thank you, Mrs. Patterson.”

“You’re welcome darling,” With that, she gave one last smile and you started to walk away, leaving her to close the door behind her. You made your way to the car, going in and sitting down but you just sat there for a few moments, looking over what just happened. Quickly, you pulled out your phone, going down to Luke’s contact and hovering over his name, thumb shaking wildly.

Biting your lip you quickly tap into it and block his contact. This was the way it had to be, you knew that. You knew that if he asked you to come over or if he texted you that you would cave because you were a sucker for his puppy eyes and always would be. It wasn’t a secret to you that you have feelings for him, it was always something you had considered even though it was firmly put that feelings were off the table. You just wished for him to hold you in his arms, to hug you, to kiss you with the same passion but also kiss you with tender love, to tell you that he loved you.

Yet, at the end of the day, you knew you couldn’t have him. He would never give you what you wanted, he wasn’t the hugging type; the date type. After all, he was trained for sin, and that was all he was willing to give. 

[azzziiiii]

Dazai Deep Dive???

TW for Suicide, Depression, Alienation, and other things. Please read with caution.

Disclaimer, I of course don't think any of the bad things Dazai did were okay, but I am gonna explain why I think he did them and his reasoning. Reasoning of course does not equal an excuse and explaining why does not mean I condone any of this

Inspired and based on this post by @raventhekittycat

Dazai uses the pronoun "watashi" the most in the anime and manga. Its a very gender netural, and somewhat formal pronoun and very common, but not usually for males in Japan. SO, here's where this gets fun. Dazai is based more off the character from the book No Longer Human than the actual author and in that book a big thing is like alienation and shit. Basically one reason anime/manga Dazai uses 'watashi' is because his character is written to feel alienated and out of place, like he doesn't belong, so using 'watashi' allows him to have the most distance, from people and language and all that shit, cause its the MOST neutral pronoun. It's not that he sees himself as being genderless, it's that he sees himself as being humanless (this is why his ability No Longer Human always hurts me cause I've always had the feeling he didnt feel human). Also, fun fact, in 15 Dazai uses the male-typical pronoun of 'boku', and I think its cause he was comfortable with Chuuya, with his life at the time, but as time goes on he starts using 'watashi', he's using it by the Dark Era episodes. He's using 'watashi' to feel a disconnect from being a human, because he doesn't feel human (No Longer Human hahahahaha cry). He's also letting himself not get as close to people, and for him, using 'watashi' helps him feel that disconnect he thinks is there.

Knowing that Dazai doesn't feel human, that he feels a disconnect from his humanity and other humans, this could help explain why he did some of the things he did. Let's keep in mind he has a record of 138 counts of conspiracy to murder, 312 counts of extortion, and 625 counts of assorted fraud and other crimes. So not a good dude basically. One big thing would be his abuse of Akutagawa. Probably one of his worst crimes in the eyes of the fandom (and I don't disagree with that at all). But, I think a big reason he was willing to do so much is cause he does feel a disconnect from being human. With him not feeling human, he doesn't think it matters what he does. He was told to train Aku and make him strong. So he did, and it didn't matter to him how he did it because he's not 'human'. We see Chuuya be more kind and questioning about many actions that go against his morals, but Dazai frankly doesn't care. Why would he have morals when he doesn't feel human? Morals are definitely a very human thing, and as I've said already, he tries to distance himself from things like that.

"Now the main character in 人間失格/Ningen Shikkaku/No Longer Human states he plays up the part of being the clown, the fool. Because then he can predict people’s actions and he is less scared of them. Fast forward to now. We see Dazai doing that constantly. And we have seen actual suicide attempts by him—the river and the barrel bring two. Dazai is hiding his actual emotions more, wearing the mask of the fool more. He’s doing objectively worse and doesn’t seem to be trying to do better. The only thing that is carrying him through is Oda’s words telling him to be good. But Oda also told him he would never fill the hole in his chest he felt. He told Dazai he is never going to feel better. So Dazai is now living, acting like a better human while feeling that otherness in his chest. So him using 僕/boku the natural masculine pronoun in 15 was a way of indicating that he was actually doing better, feeling more, acting the fool less. But now he’s 22 and suicidal again and hiding behind his pretenses and we can’t see his real emotions as much. And he’s distancing himself from himself and from others by using 私/watashi. And though it’s gender neutral, it’s also neutral on more levels than that and that is why Dazai is using it. If he sees himself as genderless it goes beyond seeing himself as genderless, he sees himself as lacking humanness." (from this post)

THIS ^^^

Oda may have been important to Dazai, but what he told him is always gonna be with Dazai. That he will never fill that hole in his chest. And I love Oda, I do, but I hate him for that. Cause he shouldn't have told Dazai, someone who wants nothing more than to fucking end it all, that he'll basically never be happy. I know Oda was on his deathbed when he said it, and it was spur of the moment, and I think that's why it was done like that, cause I can't truly hate Oda for saying that when I look at what was happening when he said it. Basically Oda's words are gonna be with Dazai forever, and he believed everything Oda said, he's always gonna believe he'll never find a reason to live, something to fill the hole in his chest.

Okay, so we have covered the fact that Dazai is clearly in a bad place mentally, and that he is not getting better, in fact, he is likely getting worse. And as many of us likely know, to get better you have to actively work on it, you have to want it. So why isn't Dazai working on it? If he knows he's doing terribly, why wouldn't he work on himself? I think there are two different reasons for this. The first, clearly, is that he sees himself as lacking humanity, so he doesn't see himself as needing help, needing to get better. In fact, he may not even realize just how poorly he's doing. His morals are already very warped, and he never grew up in a place that cared about his feelings at all. He grew up in the mafia, where he was likely taught to kill at an EXTREMLY young age. He has np sense of doing well or doing poorly. The other reason, Oda's words. Oda told him he was ever going to fill that hole in his chest (a terrible thing to say to be honest). As I've already covered, Dazai hung onto ever single word Oda said, he is never going to forget that. So, if Dazai does know he's doing poorly and is in a bad place mentally, he likely does not care. He's already been told he'll never "fix" himself, in a sense. So why would he ever put forth the effort? To him it's a complete waste of time and energy.

Kind of branching off from the fourth paragraph, Dazai's suicide attempts in present time are seen as annoying and not unusual for the agency, even Atsushi, when he sees Dazai in the barrel, acts annoyed with done with it already. And this brings up the question, why? Why is no one taking it seriously. Suicide shouldn't be used for comedy, but it is. And I kinda think there's a reason for it. Dazai is masking his true emotions. We know he has pent up grief and anger and hatred, but he barely ever expresses it. Dazai very purposefully makes his suicide attempts seem like jokes to the agency, the way he talks about it, the way he asks for help, he makes sure this behavior is not only normal, but expected. He knows that it's a problem, but he wants it to be completely normal and expected, cause for him, one day he is gonna follow through with it. He doesn't want it to be suspicious. Making everyone find him annoying is his whole plan. He doesn't want people attached to him cause he doesn't feel human (although we all know that there's a lot of people who would be affected by his death). He wants to not be missed cause he doesn't think he's human, that he's worthy of being loved. So he acts this way on purpose.

Another thing to add before I finish; As we all know pretty well Dazai calls Chuuya, well, Chuuya, and Chuuya is Chuuya's first name. Obviously there is a close bond there for Chuuya to not be too bothered by Dazai calling him by his first name. However, not once have we ever seen someone call Dazai by his first name, Osamu, but with their bond surely Chuuya would be calling him Osamu instead of Dazai? So, this means its probably pretty likely that Dazai has made it a point to not let anyone call him by his first name, as it would connect him to his humanity more. I'm willing to bet that Chuuya and Dazai had a fight over this too, and Chuuya didn't understand at all, cause to him Dazai is human, Dazai is what keeps Chuuya human. so the whole thing didn't make sense to him.

To sum up, Dazai has a fuck ton of trauma and needs therapy, but seriously, he is a very complex and well done character and isn't just a suicidal maniac.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Ranking Brotherhood of Evil Mutant members (including all interations) from your, most to least favorite and please expound why. I do like asking for opinions.

Hmmm....there have been several iterations of the Brotherhood, and I’m not very familiar with some of the later versions, so I’m just gonna go with the earlier versions that I know.  Bear in mind, this is entirely subjective, and I like most of these characters, so a character being lower down doesn’t mean I hate them.  Going from favorite to least favorite:  

Pyro:

Anyone following this blog has probably noticed I love this dude.  I’m not exactly subtle about it.  I think he’s interesting and fun, as villains go.  He’s snarky and cocky, and actually rather friendly when he’s not trying to kill you - very Affable Evil.  He’s not necessarily a very good person - he’s self-interested, and can be rather vicious, but he’s a character that I thought could potentially come over to the good side.  He seemed, at times, to get into the whole “Freedom Force” thing, and clearly enjoyed saving people alongside Longshot.  He seems to bond a great deal with his team-mates - Mystique, Avalanche, even Stonewall (although he was a dick to him and Commando when they first joined).  He even pals around with Blob, even though he also snarks at him sometimes.  In AOA, Pyro was the only one helping and being protective of Phantazia.  And now in Marauders he refers to them as his “friends,” and is perfectly happy traveling around with people that used to kick his ass, even appearing impressed with them (especially Storm), and being a surprisingly good team player.  I don’t think Pyro would necessarily become a good guy for altruistic purposes, but I think he enjoys having “adventures” and getting attention and hanging out with his team-mates.  I think if Pyro was on an X-Team, and was made to feel welcome, he’d probably be content to fight alongside them and follow the rules (which is basically what he’s doing right now with the Marauders), and maybe some of his team-mates’ virtues would rub off on him a bit.  (There was apparently a version of X-Factor pitched to Marvel years ago that included Pyro on the team, and I’m disappointed that never happened, although I loved the X-Factor that we got.)  And of course, there was also Pyro’s somewhat redemptive death, where he came to regret his past actions with the Brotherhood and wound up sacrificing his life to save Senator Kelly (fat lot of good it did, since Kelly got assassinated shortly after, but hey, he tried!) 

Along with all of that, I am also really intrigued by Pyro’s back story of being a romance author and journalist.  There’s the whole dichotomy of a guy who callously burns people to death and also writes gothic romance novels in his spare time.  And honestly, it sounds like he’s lived a really interesting life before the Brotherhood - traveling all around South East Asia, working as a journalist covering Indonesia and Vietnam (I’d assume he speaks at least a little bit of Indonesian and Vietnamese to be able to live there and cover news).  His motives for joining the Brotherhood have never been established, and I’m dying to know more about how he met Mystique, and why he decided to leave what was apparently a successful career and probably fairly comfortable life to go be an international terrorist.  Was it money?  A promise of adventure?  Did he really believe in Magneto’s cause?  Was he already getting into criminal activity before he joined the Brotherhood?  There’s a lot of potential for development there, but unfortunately most writers (except Claremont) tend to completely ignore all of Pyro’s backstory.  I’m still hoping that Duggan at least makes some reference to it, even just a throwaway comment about how Pyro used to write novels.

TL,DR: I like Pyro because he’s fun and clever, he makes friends with his team-mates, and he’s a writer. 

Toad:

Toad is a really intriguing character, but mostly I like him because he’s actually got a lot of potential, but he’s had a shit life and can never seem to catch a break.  In the earliest issues, he was just Magneto’s abused lackey, and appeared quite sniveling and pathetic, but later on it was revealed that he’s actually quite intelligent (and good with machines), he just appeared “stupid” due to all the abuse he suffered during childhood.  Toad also has a lot of interesting powers - writers seem to give him a new one every other appearance.  His stamina, agility, and super-strong legs could actually make him a pretty good fighter if he got proper training.  Plus he’s got the prehensile tongue, pheromone secretion, acidic saliva, secretion of a paralytic resin, mind control over frogs - his Marvel bio is a long, long list of secondary powers.  Toad could be quite formidable if he actually got his shit together, and there are AU’s (like House of M and Age of Apocalypse) where we see a much more stable, competent, intelligent Toad who is living up to his potential.  But 616 Toad remains a joke,  He’s either a low-level bad guy (they tried to level him up in the 90′s by making him the leader of the Brotherhood, but it didn’t last) or a pathetic sad-sack used for humor, or both.  His attempt to “join” the X-Men led to him being the janitor and basically getting treated like shit (he literally had no bed?) then getting kicked out when he follow Husk to the Hellfire Academy, even though he did that largely out of concern for Husk, and actually helped her and Quentin escape.

Basically, Toad has been subjected to horrible abuse pretty much his entire life, he has a mutation that makes him appear “ugly”, and everyone treats him with, at best, pity, and at worst, hatred and disgust.  I’ll admit, he’s had a few chances to better his life that have fallen through because of his own bad choices (and he’s done some horrible things, especially when he was leading the Brotherhood in the 90′s), but most of the time he’s just getting continuously kicked while he’s down.  To a certain extent, it’s really a matter of comic writers not being willing to take Toad seriously - he’s considered a joke villain, and therefore gets written that way, because he’s there as an accessory in someone else’s story.  At least the Toad/Husk storyline seemed to focus some on Toad himself as a character, even if it ended badly for him.  Sometimes, I kinda think Toad is written as evil or pathetic so that writers can justify other characters being shitty towards him.  Like, Magneto’s early treatment of Toad was absolutely, inexcusably horrible.  Magneto treated everyone in the Brotherhood badly, including his own children, but it seemed like Toad caught the worst of it.  Pietro and Wanda were also disgusted by Toad, although they had good reason, since his affection towards Wanda was pretty creepy.  Later on, Magneto was revamped into more of a noble, morally grey character, and his past abuse of Toad was mostly forgotten.  I don’t think the writers are necessarily doing this on purpose, but it kind feels like Toad remaining a pathetic bad guy was partially a way to excuse Magneto’s poor treatment of him, since Magneto was being reinvented as a more likable character.  And not just Magneto, but just about everyone who finds Toad disgusting or cracks jokes about how gross he is – it’s okay, Toad is awful so it’s totally fine to have the physically attractive good guys mock him and treat him like garbage.  (Hell, the artists can’t even decide what Toad’s physical appearance should be.  Is he skinny?  Fat?  Does he have green skin?  Is his nose ridiculously long or closer to normal?  Who knows what we’ll get in each issue.  And God forbid he be drawn without his tongue lolling out of his mouth.)

Also, I think that a lot of Toad’s worst personality flaws are at least partially due to the abuse he suffered.  To be clear, I’m not justifying the things that Toad has done. He set up death traps for people who wronged him, murdered Sauron’s girlfriend, and stalked and attacked Wanda multiple times.  That’s pretty shitty of him!  But I also think the abuse had a huge effect on Toad and how he interacts with people. Like, his tendency to obsessively latch onto people, and act like a sniveling lackey – the dude has had pretty much no love his entire life, and he’s always been treated like garbage.  Of course he has no self-esteem, of course he’ll fawn over anyone that shows him affection.  He’s been raised to believe that he is garbage.  Even his tendency to gloat over others being punished, and his whole “I’ll tell Magneto, and you’ll get in trouble!” thing is an understandable survival mechanism – other people getting in trouble means that he’s not the target, for once.  Obviously I can’t condone Toad trying to murder people that wronged him, but his anger and resentment is also understandable after the poor treatment he’s suffered.  In fact, I think it’s actually healthier for him to be angry than to think that he deserves it.  And a lot of the shitty things he did as Brotherhood leader also felt like him desperately wanting to be taken seriously, to be respected – also not a bad thing to want, even if his actions were terrible.  Basically, Toad has a lot of personality flaws, and he’s also had a lot of experiences that created or exacerbated those personality flaws.  The guy needs serious, long-term therapy, and I think he could become a better (or at least more competent) person if he got the help that he so obviously needs.

TL, DR: Basically, Toad deserves better.

Avalanche:

I have to admit, a lot of my love for Avalanche is all about his relationship with Pyro, be it friendship or something more.  (It’s something more in my headcanons, I will forever ship them.)  But he’s also a character that we don’t know much about, in part because he tends to talk a lot less than a certain chatty Australian.  He seems, more than anything, to be a practical-minded punch-clock villain, who is mostly in it for the money.  He doesn’t seem to enjoy putting on a show and reveling in his powers like Pyro, and he doesn’t seem to have the same mean streak that can be seen in Blob (and Pyro, to be fair).  I’m sure there are probably instances of Avalanche being dickish and cruel, but in a lot of his appearances that I’ve read, he seems very practical.  Do the job, get paid.  He also seems fairly content to be a follower or a lackey – happy to take orders from Mystique, or even follow Pyro’s lead when Mystique isn’t around.  That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have his own ideas or opinions, but he doesn’t particularly feel the need to be a leader.  Like Pyro, we also don’t know much about his past before the Brotherhood, except that he was married at some point.  Where’s his wife now?  Why didn’t it work out?  Was it because of him being a mutant, or was it his activities with the Brotherhood that drove them apart?  Does he still love her?  Why did he join the Brotherhood in the first place?  

Avalanche also seems to care somewhat about his team-mates, although he’s not as openly friendly as Pyro.  During Freedom Force’s disastrous last mission, he made the difficult call to abandon Pyro and Blob to save Commando, something that he was clearly broken up about.  And of course, he was willing to go on a mission in the Savage Land with Pyro to get a Legacy Virus cure (that unfortunately didn’t actual exist).  Avalanche is selective about who he cares about, but he still shows that he cares through his actions.  I don’t want to make this all about Pyro, but I really love their relationship.  The stoic, quiet guy/chatty energetic guy dynamic is great.  They just love being bros and committing crimes together, and they are quick to work together and back each other up, even in their earliest appearances.  I would totally read a min-series focusing on the early days of Mystique’s brotherhood, especially if it gave us some good Avalanche, Pyro and Blob development, and didn’t just center around Rogue and Mystique (both fantastic characters, but they’ve both got a lot of attention directed at them already.)

Also, Avalanche likes to garden, which is nice. And at one point he just got fed-up with everything and tried to retire and become a bartender, which is very relatable.  Unfortunately Red Skull murdered him after that.  Sorry, Avalanche.  I hope you are resurrected on Krakoa, living your best life.

Blob:

Another character who is often not taken seriously. Blob is mean-spirited, crass, and often self-interested, much like the rest of the Brotherhood members.  He also was extremely close to Unus, and clearly devastated when Unus’s powers went out of control and killed him.  Blob is one of those characters where I think his physical appearance has led to him being designated as a bad guy by the writers – he’s big and gross, so, just like Toad, he’ll be portrayed as a bad person in order to justify the good guys being terrible to him.  (Yes, I know there are “ugly” good guys, but let’s face it, they are rare.  Most of the good guys look like models.)  Blob also, like Toad, gets a lot of crap for his physical appearance, something that is literally part of his mutation.  I think some of Blob’s nastiness is definitely a defense mechanism, lashing out at others because he is used to being attacked.  It also seems like Blob is really lacking in close friendships, like what Mystique and Destiny or Pyro and Avalanche have (“friendship”).  He was really the odd man out in Mystique’s brotherhood.  He’s willing to pal around with various Brotherhood members, including Avalanche and Pyro when they’re not picking fights with each other, but he doesn’t seem to have a best buddy after Unus’s death.  I kind of admire Blob’s toughness.  It would be easy for him to completely lose his self-esteem, like Toad, but he stands up for himself and never grovels to others.  He is frequently insulted for his mutation, but he also seems comfortable in his own skin, which is good.  He shouldn’t have to feel bad about his own body.    

There was an AU story that showed a softer, more thoughtful Blob who wound up in a relationship with Psylocke, so we know he’s capable of showing a better side of himself.  To some extent, I like Blob’s crass, take-no-shit personatliy, but I’d also like to see writers give him more depth.  I’d especially like to see him reunite with Unus on Krakoa, and the two of them hanging out enjoying each other’s company.  I’m also enjoying the cameos we get of bartender Blob on Krakoa, I hope he is also living his best life.  

Phantazia:

Honestly, I mostly just want to know more about her. All we really know is that she has a PhD (in some kind of scientific field, I think….she is reading a book on astrophysics in one comic), and she was willing to join Toad’s Brotherhood (and she was also the only Brotherhood member that received an invitation from Exodus to Asteroid M). Why?  What was her life before that?  Who knows? Most of the time, she seems rather cold, and a bit distant from her team-mates (but I can’t entirely blame her, the Brotherhood is a rough crowd.  It’s hard to be the new team-mate, and probably especially hard to be the only woman.)  She did seem concerned about Pyro when he was suffering from the Legacy Virus, but she kind of dropped out of sight when the Brotherhood disbanded.   She seems like she was mostly in it for personal gain, especially since Toad’s Brotherhood was more about petty crime than mutant rights.  Apparently she was deeply affected by Wanda’s reality alterations, which took a toll on her mental health, and was last seen in a SHIELD holding cell.  I hope she pops up again on Krakoa.  

Rogue:

The only reason Rogue is so low on the list is that I sometimes forget she was ever a Brotherhood member, and because I like to focus more on lesser known characters.  But I really like Rogue!  She’s tough but sweet, and an incredible badass.  Leaving the Brotherhood for the X-Men meant walking away from her team and foster-mother(s), but she still did it, and became one of the X-Men’s most dependable and valued members.  I love Rogue’s past, her relationship with Mystique, her relationship with Gambit.  I love how she doesn’t take shit, but she also doesn’t go around acting like a jerk, like some of the “tough” characters.  (Wolverine, basically.)  I like the complexity of her struggles with her powers, and her knowing that her strongest abilities, like strength and flight, were basically “stolen” from someone else. I feel like I should say more, but Rogue is very popular and has had loads written about her already.  Rogue is cool, and she deserves the best!  

Mystique:

A truly fascinating character.  She’s also lower on the list because she is fairly well-known and popular, and also because she can absolutely be a manipulative piece of shit, willing to throw everyone except Destiny under the bus.  Yet, at the same time, we see her appear to genuinely care about people, like Rogue, Nightcrawler (after the unfortunate “toss baby off a cliff” incident), Destiny, even Pyro occasionally (she has a nice moment with him on Muir Island, and also calls him “friend” in X-Factor).  She’s a character who can never be entirely trusted, which is a large part of what makes her interesting.  I think she truly does care about a few, select people.  Hell, there’s an early issue in which Mystique fights a bunch of robots programmed to look and act like the X-Men (courtesy of Arcade), and she completely breaks down after having to “kill” the Rogue robot, then hesitates to attack the Nightcrawler bot.  I think Mystique can also be extremely callous, cold and manipulative, but I don’t think she is completely evil, just very self-interested, like a lot of villains. Also, she’s probably seen and experienced a lot of shit over her long life that contributed to that callousness (I figure if I’m gonna cut Toad and Blob some slack, I should do the same for Mystique.)  I do wish she would stop committing rape by deception in stories (meaning sleeping with someone while disguised as someone else).  It’s something that gets glossed over, even though fandom generally despises rapist male villains (and rightfully so), but Mystique pretending to be Blink and sleeping with Mimic is barely a story blip.  

Mystique is also interesting just because she’s such a badass.  She’s cunning, a good leader, a good strategist, excellent spy, good at hand-to-hand combat (she only loses to Arcade’s X-Men robots because she hesitates). She is damn formidable!  She’s also lived a varied and interesting life. There’s a reason she’s gotten so much exposure in comics.  I can also understand her being short-tempered while leading the Brotherhood, as she has to deal with the three stooges of Pyro, Avalanche and Blob.  Then things get even more complicated during the Freedom Force days.  Mystique has a lot of shit to deal with keeping those idiots in line.  Her relationship with Destiny is probably my favorite thing about Mystique, they are beautiful wives, and I hope she gets Destiny resurrected so the two of them can live happily together on Krakoa.  (Unlikely.)  

Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch:

I don’t have much to say about these two, even though I like them. I’m starting to run out of steam in terms of character analysis, and I tend to think of them more as Avengers than Brotherhood members.  They both deserve better.  Also, they are mutants and Magneto is their dad. Retcon?  What retcon?

Destiny:

I don’t have much to say about Destiny because she is very mysterious – always working according to some plan that only she knows. So it’s hard to really know her as a character.  She seems like a very intelligent and calm woman.  She’s always chilling while the Brotherhood guys are freaking out or picking fights with each other.  She also faced her own death bravely and willingly.  She seems to have a good sense of humor.  One of my favorite stories is Mystique disposing of Destiny’s ashes after her death.  She is throwing them off a boat at a specific time and place, according to Destiny’s instructions – and the wind blows them back into her face.  Obviously Destiny planned it as a last prank, and I have to like a character who sets that up.  Also, one time she let a rock wall collapse on Avalanche and Spiral because she knew they wouldn’t be seriously hurt, and she hated Spiral and wanted to enjoy her humiliation.  That’s some impressive pettiness.  Destiny is cool, and I hope she comes back.

Sauron:

I don’t really care about him at all.  

Mastermind:

Seems like a real creep, especially with his manipulation of Jean Grey/Phoenix in the Dark Phoenix saga.  At least he apologized to her at his death.  Also, he’s got three daughters, the dude gets around. Regan, Martinique, and Pixie (WTF?! I just read that in his bio.)  I am really confused by there being two Mastermind daughters with the same powers, but apparently it was actually a mix-up between two writers.  Oops!  

That’s all.  I know there have been later Brotherhood iterations with other members, including one or both Lady Masterminds, but that was during a time when I wasn’t reading much X-Men, so I’m not familiar with most of those characters. I might have more to say if I eventually read some of the later Brotherhood stories.  

[dreamyyang]

To All The Boys I’ve Hated — 01

Summary: “What starts with ‘f’ and ends with ‘uck’? Firetruck! Welcome to Camp Firetruck, we hope you aren’t carrying any carrots because the demon rabbits will attack you.”

or

Three weeks of summer camp with the seven boys you hated the most was a clusterfuck of chaos waiting to happen.

Warning(s): themes of bullying (here and there), behaviour that really shouldn’t be condoned, cursing, a few questionable life decisions, weird animals and even weirder camp counsellors, author has never been to a camp so spare her if she fucks up

A/N: it’s here y’all

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Your heart ached, its walls clenching in anguish. The pain coursed through your veins like electricity, the sparks concentrated in the cavity in your chest. The light from your eyes had vanished. It had been snatched away from your irises, leaving behind a shadow of its former glow of happiness. Your lips were dry and chapped, the lines on your lips ran deep, but not as deep as your emotional scars—

“Wipe that look of long suffering off your face would you? You look like we’re sending you off to a concentration camp,” your mother said, exasperated.

“But birth giver, do you not see that you’ve thrust upon me a fate that I believe is just as painful—”

Your mother only rolled her eyes, tossing a pile of clothes at you, “Save the theatrics for summer camp, would you? I hear they tell stories every night. You can recite your tragic soliloquy then. Now start packing, you don’t want a late night.”

Your body lazily slid down the side of your bed, limbs flopping onto the floor in response. Your mother smacked you on the back of your head, “You’re dragging the clothes down with you.”

You pouted exaggeratedly, speaking in a baby voice, “Sowwy mummy, pwease forgive me.”

“I’m this close to selling you.”

You huffed, making a face at your mother’s back as she left the room. After sitting on the ground and staring at your open suitcase for what felt like an eternity, you finally got off the floor. You grabbed the clothes on your bed as well as those from the clothes basket your mother had left behind and began packing. Your mind was already trying to come up with ways to get out of going to camp.

To be fair, your mother was sending you to a place where you’d had some of your best memories as a child. You’d spent two weeks of your summer vacation at Camp Firetruck since you were six years old but you stopped going by the time you were eleven. Now going back at sixteen just felt weird to you. Wouldn’t you be too old by now?

Of course, there was a bigger reason as to why you didn’t want to go back to camp but you forced yourself not to think about it. You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to mentally push out your thoughts. It took you a few minutes, but you finally opened your eyes, having been able to move your thoughts to the back of your mind. You stared down at your suitcase for a moment before slamming it shut and zipping it up, as if that was a way for you to keep your memories at bay.

You stood up, a queasy sensation in your stomach making your knees feel weak. You let out a shaky sigh, rolling your eyes at yourself.

“Fucking hell, y/n, it’s not that deep.”

The loudness was unsettling. Camp was far more chaotic than you remembered and you were feeling extremely uncomfortable. There was a flurry of activity around you, campers of all ages were running around, parents were yelling goodbye and telling their demonic kin to behave themselves and the camp’s theme song ‘Firetruck’ played loudly in the background. In the middle of all the life and activity was you, standing stiffly with your suitcase in hand, backpack on your shoulders and a terrified expression on your face.

You were trying to get to the quadrangle where orientation would be held but there was so much going on and you felt so out of place. A hilarious contrast to your previous summers. You used to fit in perfectly. Perhaps that was why camp felt more normal back then, you were just as loud and full of energy as it was— and still is. After what felt like an eternity, you managed to make it towards the front.

Having noticed that you were struggling, a boy with bright orange hair walked up to you, “Need help carrying your bag?”

You shook your head, “No, it’s just that there’s so much going on, I’m scared I’ll hit someone with my suitcase.”

“It’s fine, they’ll just laugh it off if camp is still as chill as I remember it to be.”

“You haven’t been here in a while? Me neither!”

“Yeah, I moved back to Shanghai for a while. That’s my hometown. Well, city. You?”

You bit your lip, refusing to recall the memories that had been in your head the previous day, “I got busy during the summer. So yeah…”

You trailed off before realising that you had yet to introduce yourself, “I’m y/n, by the way. You are?”

The boy tilted his head slightly, “Don’t you remember me?”

You frowned and blinked, “Should I?”

The boy seemed amused as he smiled, shaking his head, “Nevermind. Well, at least we can get to know each other this summer?”

You smiled weakly and nodded. You didn’t get along well with boys, especially those your age, but that was mainly because the boys at your school weren’t exactly the nicest people. However, you were sent to camp because your parents felt you were being too asocial. This could be a chance to break out of your shell and prove to yourself that not all boys were terrible.

He hadn’t told you his name yet and you were about to ask again when a familiar boy walked up to the two of you, “I see you’ve met y/n.”

Park Jisung. What was he doing here at camp? You would’ve expected that his parents would take their little golden boy on some sort of exciting trip abroad. You tried your best not to feel disheartened but your hopes of having a male friend for the first time in years was already making its way down the drain. If he was friends with Jisung then it was unlikely that he was going to like you for long.

Suddenly, the unsettling feeling came rushing back along with a distant memory. One of twelve year old Zhong Chenle shrieking in front of the entire class, “Y/n has boy and girl parts!”

Your eyes snapped from Jisung to Chenle, panic rising in your mind. There was no way you were dealing with this. Not for three weeks. You cleared your throat, preparing yourself to grab your suitcase and make a run for it. All of a sudden, the sharp feedback from a microphone breached your ears, directing yours as well as the rest of the campers’ attention to a familiar bespectacled boy who was struggling with his megaphone. Your palms grew sweaty as you watched in horror.

“Uhm, check? Testing? He-hello?”

There stood one of your biggest nightmares. Clad in the dorky lime green camp shirt and jeans with a cap shaped like a siren with a smiley face. Mark Lee. The tension in your mind built as he continued to fumble with his megaphone. That malicious, soul-sucking wretch who’d be sent from the murky abyss of hell to personally torture. The smiling cicada with chibi eyes could only mean one thing. You were going to suffer.

“Yo campers!”

“Fighting haeyadwae!”

“Mom please pick me up, I’m begging you!”

“No, y/n, what a ridiculous reason! Just because the boys you don’t get along with are at the same camp as you are, doesn’t mean you should leave,” you could practically hear your mother rolling her eyes as she spoke.

“But ma—”

“No! You kids are so ridiculous, you fight all the time and make it hard for everybody else.”

“Ma—”

“Nothing doing, y/n, you are staying at Camp. God, when did you become such a brat? You’ll really use any excuse to stay inside your room like a bat.”

“Seriously though—”

“Natural sunlight won’t hurt you, now get off the phone, I’m driving.”

“Fine, I love y—”

Your mother cut the call because you could finish your sentence. You sighed, you were definitely one of two things: either someone who committed a heinous sin in their past life or an adopted child.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well?”

You shrieked, surprised by the sudden voice. You spun around, involuntarily reaching out to punch the owner of the voice. However, you just ended up punching air.

“Ouch, that hurt,” Na Jaemin said, sarcastically.

You internally groaned, you were really hoping to avoid interacting with Mark and his friends. Especially Jaemin. Out of the seven devils, he was inarguably the worst.

“Why were you eavesdropping?”

“Why are you being such a baby and crying for your mommy?” He retorted with a grin which you ached to punch off his face.

“None of your damn business,” you snapped before walking towards your assigned cabin, making it a point to harshly brush your shoulder against his own.

You heard him mumble to himself but you couldn’t be bothered to try and listen. You were just fixated on appearing confident as you walked away.

“Channel your inner Hwasa, channel your inner Hwasa,” your mind repeated until you’d reached your cabin.

You swore you could feel Jaemin’s gaze burning through the back of your head but that could just be the self consciousness that he brough out in you. Na Jaemin was easily the most intimidating boy you knew. Standing within even a centimetre’s radius of him terrified you. You fought the urge to behave like the stupid main character from the horror movies you loved and turn around to look at the monster creeping around behind you. You swallowed, your throat uncomfortably dry and your palms sweaty. Before you could reach out to twist the door knob, your cabin mate stepped out, pushing you off balance. Your eyes widened as you caught a glimpse of Lee Jeno, his face mirroring your surprised expression.

Jeno panicked, his arms reaching out to grab you. Thankfully, he managed to pull you back to your feet. Your scalp was less than thankful though, it was burning with pain. Jeno, being the idiot he was, had grabbed a fistful of your hair to keep you from falling. You grimaced, your hands massaging the back of your scalp as you softly hissed in pain. The boy in front of you was still wide-eyed, words spilling from his mouth incoherently. You held up a hand, your face still scrunched in pain, halting Jeno’s unintelligible apology.

To his credit, Jeno looked incredibly apologetic. And slightly scared of what you were going to say; you weren’t a person of few words. Indubitably, you were going to give the poor boy an earful. His friends had teasingly mentioned that he looked like a puppy and he silently prayed that he would look pitiful enough for you to not raise your voice.

Your angry rant never came. Jaemin had strutted up to you with a pleased grin on his incessantly chapped lips, “Getting kinky are we? Gosh, at least do it inside.”

Your glare was quickly diverted to him, much to Jeno’s relief. You were aching to give the both of them a piece of your mind but you couldn’t work up the courage to do it. You hated how weak Jaemin made you feel. Clenching your hands into sweaty fists, your gaze awkwardly darted away from Jaemin to the bright red ‘9’ that had been painted onto the cabin door. You were at the correct cabin but why had Jeno been inside your cabin? Your mind began to race with thoughts. Perhaps him and Jaemin were trying to pull a prank on you. That would explain why Jaemin had been keeping an eye on you a few moments earlier.

Trying your best to muster up the courage to sound harsh, you glanced at Jaemin for a second before speaking, “I’d prefer it if you stayed away from my cabin, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb.”

You could have sworn you saw Jaemin’s eyes twinkle. He jokingly stood at attention and saluted you, “The Tweedle twins reporting for cabin mate duty.”

“Fucking pardon?”

[thelatelockdownlist]

A Series on Series 01: Bridgerton

Hi. I’m Alex, a YouTube newbie. 

I resurrected this channel mostly because I wanted to do this thing. It’s something I’d planned back in 2019 and never got around to it because I was too lazy. However… life happened and I thought that with everything that happened in 2020, I should stop procrastinating. So I did nothing in 2020 -- aside from the usual like work. I was one of the lucky ones whose only inconvenience really was being unable to go outside when I wanted to -- which, to be honest, wasn’t really that often. In ordinary circumstances, I don’t really like going out. But the thought of having an actual lockdown order PREVENTING me from going out, well, that’s a whole ‘nother thing.

So 2020 was a bust, but I wanted 2021 to be different. However long this pandemic is going to go, I wanted to make better use of my ‘free’ time.

On to the show. I’m doing A Series on Series, where I talk about my favorite book series. I figured since I read a lot of them, might as well talk about them right here. So let’s start with what’s currently popular: Bridgerton.

So I watched Bridgerton on Netflix the day it came out in my country, January 1. 

I’d actually read the Julia Quinn series -- all eight books -- years ago. After I watched the first season, I went back and reread the first book in the series which is the basis for this first season.

Just a disclaimer: I’m watching this through the lens of someone who has read historical romance novels almost my entire life. I understand that there are a lot of issues that should/need to be addressed here like race. However, as I’ve read the books that this series is based on, I know the period in which it’s set. That is to say, the characters are mostly white and mostly straight. It’s the overarching theme of most historical romance novels.

With that said, it’s not to say that I won’t have comments about current issues that we see play out in the series, but I just want to ground this -- this whole thing -- on my own experience mostly because that’s really my frame of reference. 

On the race issue, my comments are going to be from someone who is a person of color BUT has lived all of my life in a country, Philippines, where we’re really mostly just one race. There are a lot of biracial people in my country, but for the most part our issues are nothing compared to what black people have experienced and are experiencing everywhere -- especially in the U.S. What I’m saying is, I am aware of the Black Lives Matter movement and I agree with what they stand for and what they’re fighting for. What I’m also saying is that as a person of color who lives in a country with people who have the same skin color as I am, I don’t have the same issues of representation in the media. In OUR media here, I am very much represented. However, in the U.S. people of color are in the minority and struggle with representation. I’m saying that now because we’re going to come back to that later. Also most of my comments are going to be from the lens of someone who identifies herself as a decades’ long (yes, I’m aware that I’m aging myself) historical romance reader. However, even though I used to be the kind of reader who belongs to the ‘the author is dead’ school of thought, these days, one finds it difficult to divorce the author from the work. 

From “The Death of the Author,” an essay by French literary theorist, essayist, philosopher, critic and semiotician Roland Barthes. Basically, it says that the author does not factor in the reading of their work -- that their words get to be interpreted by the reader however they may. The point is not to try to understand what the author’s intentions are, and just focus on the actual work itself.

I went to school for this so I’m going to have to balance the death of the author vs my own thoughts -- immediate and otherwise -- when it comes to what I read. 

So we’re good? If not, I’ll come back to it -- if you’re still here. [wink]

So in this first episode of A Series on Series: Bridgerton, I’m going to talk about my impressions regarding the series and then point out the differences between the Netflix Season 1 and the first book, The Duke and I.

First impression of the series & some issues:

I was pleasantly surprised to see a black man play the Duke of Hastings.

In the book, he is described as tall, dark-haired and with ice-blue eyes.

Also a pleasant, surprise? Queen Charlotte played by a black woman.

You see, some historians believe that Queen Charlotte was Britain’s first black queen.

She was born the youngest daughter of a duke and a princess in the Duchy of Mecklenburg-Strelitz in northern Germany. She married King George III -- yes, of Hamilton’s ‘You’ll Be Back.’

However, in this timeline set years after that, he’s more The Madness of King George.

Going back, historians are split about this because while some believe they can trace her lineage to the mixed-race branch of the Portuguese royal family and that the royal physician of her time described her as having a “true mulatto face,” other historians say that it’s never been proven. 

History says that she might be black or she might not be. In the series, she is, and I had absolutely no problem believing from the get-go that the black actress playing her is in fact, Queen Charlotte. 

Some people actually point out the casting of black people in the series -- not just the Duke and the Queen -- but others as well like Lady Danbury, the late Duke and the current Duke’s sparring partner, Will Mondrich -- as race baiting. 

Merriam-Webster defines it as the making of verbal attacks against members of a racial group. But that’s the 1961 definition. However, its other definition says it’s  the unfair use of statements about race to try to influence the actions or attitudes of a particular group of people. This, I think, applies better. 

As someone who isn’t black, I feel like my opinion doesn’t hold much water here -- or at least not the ‘diamond of the first water.’ Yeah, yeah. I went there.

But for me, since the series creator -- who is white -- made a big deal of wanting a diverse cast and ‘colorbind’ casting, a lot of hype surrounded the casting of black people in these particular roles -- who are white in the book. I think certain expectations were set -- whether intentionally or not -- about what it means to cast black people in historically white roles. Hence, the issue of race-baiting. 

Was that an issue for me? No. But I’m not black and I’m not the one who may or may not be baited. So what I say isn’t exactly something you can hang your hat on. However, I’ll say it anyway. I like the black actors who play their characters. 

In the book, Simon is almost god-like because of how handsome he is. The actor who plays him, really hot. I don’t mind that he doesn’t have ice-blue eyes. 

Lady Danbury is my favorite character because of her interactions with Simon and how fierce she is as a friend and aunt. She doesn’t feature much in the book. 

Queen Charlotte, also not in the book, is great. I especially liked her in that scene with George who was lucid one moment and then crazed the next. I didn’t think this at the time, but she must have both pitied him and been afraid for herself because he did threaten her. And what does that threat really mean for her? Is it just for her? Or for her people as well? 

Because as Simon says later during his conversation with Lady Danbury, their ‘elevation’ relies on the whims of this madman. 

The late Duke, well, he was just mean. But that part, when he gets so mad that Simon can’t speak -- I sort of understand why he wants a perfect child. It’s self-preservation. He says that their situation is precarious, that what they have will only remain theirs as long as they remain extraordinary. I felt that vehemence there. While I don’t condone it -- after all, he’s doing this ranting at a child, his child -- I understand the reason behind it. Book OG Duke doesn’t have that reason. 

The series kind of followed the book. There were certain departures, but it didn’t really bother me. 

For those of you who have not seen the series and/or read the book and don’t want any spoilers, leave now. 

Okay. 

SPOILER ALERT

The first 9 minutes (more or less) in the series don’t actually appear in the book. But it does a good job of setting up this world. We’re introduced to the Featheringtons and the Bridgertons. 

In the first book, the Featheringtons don’t really feature as much. Also, the Baron is dead there. Then there’s Marina Thompson, the Featheringtons’ distant cousin --

Not in the book.

Then there’s Lord Anthony, Viscount Bridgerton and his mistress’ (Siena) amorous activities -- also not in the book.

But I suppose it’s there to give us a glimpse of his character. You know, that he’s a playa.

Also, in the book, Daphne has come out -- as in debuted -- for nearly two seasons. In the series, it’s actually her first time hence the presentation to the queen. 

Lady Danbury’s ball is in the book, but Daphne’s entrance which causes a stir due to her being proclaimed as ‘flawless’ by the Queen and --

#recordscratch

Did you think I’d forgotten about Lady Whistledown? Of course not. Especially when she’s voiced by Julie Andrews. I love that they chose her to be Lady Whistledown, but for the purpose of this comparison, I won’t be dwelling much on her, as much as I love Dame Julie Andrews.

#backtoourregularprogramming

Lady Whistledown as ‘a diamond of the first water’ doesn’t happen in the book. While book Daphne was by no means unattractive, according to her: ‘no one was dazzled by her beauty, stunned into speechlessness by her presence…’

Then there’s how Daphne and Simon meet. In the series, Daphne bumps into Simon accidentally, trying to escape Nigel Berbrook. In the book… it’s a little complicated.

First, there’s when and where (and really how their ‘grand scheme’ is concocted). In the series, it happens at Vauxhall Gardens where Simon overhears Daphne and Nigel Berbrook arguing. Then he discovers them after Daphne hits Lord Berbrook when he tries to assault her. Then Simon concocts the scheme with the dramatic cutaways of them rejoining the crowd as they watch the fireworks. 

In the book, this actually happens at Lady Danbury’s ball (which we see in the series; the ball. The scene with Berbrook does happen, but it’s at the ball, off a corner. It’s how Daphne and Simon actually met. Anyway, it’s a whole coverup. They leave the unconscious Berbrook and they go back to the ballroom, separately.

Simon meets Daphne’s brothers and they end up introducing him to Daphne and they both agree to pretend that they’d never met before. Anyway, Simon gets all these looks from Lady Featherington and the other mamas and feels the need to escape. He then asks Daphne to dance. 

THIS is where and when they concoct the scheme. The plan -- thought of by Simon, same in the series -- actually happens during this -- their first dance at that ball. AFTER their witty repartee, while waltzing. They multitask. 

And unlike what happens in the series, the scheme didn’t happen because Daphne needed to be saved from ruin. Simon proposed it because he wanted an out from being stalked by ambitious mamas and offered it to Daphne AND this is a departure from the series -- to make her more desirable to other men. 

See, in the book, Daphne always gets FRIENDZONED. I know, I know… but the term really does apply to her here. And with no malice, really. 

They don’t view her as someone desirable. She says that she’s still unmarried “because everyone sees me as a friend. No one ever has any romantic interest in me. Except Nigel.”

So Simon’s reason of “men are always interested in a woman if they think other men are interested,” which he also says in the series is due to this. 

So to sum up the difference: In the series, it’s to save Daphne from ruin; in the books, it’s so she no longer gets friendzoned. 

So they both agree and the next day…

In the series, Daphne and Simon start to hang out and they go out on dates. 

Kind of the same in the books, BUT they let Anthony in on the secret. 

Anthony was incensed because Simon appears to be breaking the bro code. You know, the one where family is off limits? So they had to tell him. Of course he thinks it’s stupid, but goes along with it because he does see the benefits for Daphne. 

In the series, Anthony is in the dark.

Anyway, the dates. BECAUSE this is a historical romance novel set in the regency period, book Simon isn’t quite so bold. The spoon scene?

Not in the book.

The scene where Simon basically gives WAP tips to Daphne?

Not in the book.

And the biggest plot in the series that isn’t in the book?

Yeah... he’s not in the book.

But the part where Anthony catches them in flagrante delicto? 

That happens.

And the duel?

In the book.

The heartfelt speech to the queen?

Not in the book.

The scene where Mama Bridgerton tries (and fails) to explain the birds and the bees? 

Happens. And it’s actually funnier in the book because Daphne asks her, “So you did this eight times?” (whisper) And her mother blushes furiously and says that, no, not just eight times because sometimes you do it because you like to. 

Read the book. I found it funnier than the scene on Netflix. For one, Daphne is actually quite eager for this conversation “I’ve waited for this all week.” -- which shocks Mama. 

The wedding?

Kind of the same, since Daphne only remembered the funny moments -- which were not shown in the series. 

And I know you’re waiting for this: the wedding night. 

Um, they were different. 

For one thing, the ‘I burn for you’ line?

Not in the book.

In the series, their wedding night was pretty intense.

In the book, it starts out funny because remember Simon telling Daphne how he couldn’t marry her because he CAN’T have children? Well, Daphne -- having had what passes for sex education for women in Regency England -- thought that meant he COULDN’T have sex -- as in he’s impotent. Which sends Simon into paroxysms of laughter. 

And then there was sexing. 

But in the book, the sexing was confined mostly in the bedroom. 

In the series, it was everywhere, including the bedroom. You know, the library (against a ladder), the mausoleum, in front of the swans near the lake 

all to the tune of an orchestral version of Taylor Swift’s ‘Wildest Dreams.’ 

BUT

You know the course of true love never runs smooth. Our lovely couple has to hit a snag. And it’s in the form of animal husbandry, planting and a little putting of two-and-two together.

How Daphne finds out is sort of the same, but also different. 

Like I mentioned before, I’d read this years ago. I’d forgotten about the particulars of this. So when I saw this scene in the Netflix series, I somehow sort of hazily remembered that that’s not what happened in the book. But as soon as I re-read it, I had to put it down. Not because the scene was well-written. But because I just had so many problems with it. 

Which kind of makes me thankful that they changed it for Netflix. Because in the series, Simon doesn’t come inside Daphne but this is also what convinces her that he DID lie to her. Remember that earlier scene when Mrs. Colson, the housekeeper, tells Daphne the story of Simon’s parents? How his mother died in childbirth and how his father always wanted a son and blamed his wife when she miscarries? Then Mrs. Colson says, “A womb won’t quicken without strong, healthy seed.” 

In the series, Daphne clues in to this when during one of their romps, AFTER she’d spoken with Mrs. Colson and the wheels started turning, she noticed Simon spend on her handkerchief. She then marches to her maid’s room and asks her for essentially a rushed version of sex ed. Then after Daphne and Simon have dinner, they have sex… and I honestly don’t know if Simon came in her or not. But that’s when she accuses him and Simon basically admits it, they then fight. From then on, their marriage becomes strained and they sleep in separate bedrooms. So that awful scene in the book doesn’t exactly appear in the series. 

Book Simon comes home drunk because he and Daphne had been fighting because of THE LIE. He manages to convince her to stay with him in bed, and she does. Then she is awakened later and as she talks to him and starts basically caressing him in his sleep, he responds. Which she realizes that this is when she could do WHATEVER she wanted, have WHATEVER she wanted.

So she basically giddyups and rides him like a cowgirl and being super extra, impressing even Simon, as is written in the book. BUT things take a turn when he starts climaxing and she essentially uses what strength she has to pin him down so he couldn’t pull out. 

He’s angry and is feeling betrayed and then he starts to stutter -- which makes him angrier, with her, with himself. He’s just a confusing mass of emotions at this point. 

And then he leaves for one of his other estates. Daphne goes to London and her brothers visit. One day, she assumes she’s pregnant and sends a letter with Anthony to send to Simon. Simon receives said letter and promptly sets out for London. 

In the series, this doesn’t happen. They’re basically living separate lives, apart from posing for a portrait, several social engagements and a ball. 

In the book, Simon goes after Daphne who’d been out riding at Hyde Park and she tells him that as it turns out she’s not pregnant. They don’t exactly resolve things there, but at least they’re talking. Daphne’s brothers sort of accost them at Simon’s house demanding that he convinces them that he loves her. Which sort of terrifies Daphne, but Simon takes her to another part of the house and in there actually professes his love, which he does unknowingly in front of her brothers who followed them. 

And then sex. This time they both finish. Together. Inside. With enthusiastic consent. On both sides.

In the series, we have sort of the same but in the rain. Not just the Bridgerton boys as audience, but all of their guests. 

Then sex. This time they both finish. Together. Inside. With enthusiastic consent. On both sides.

In the series, it ends with Daphne giving birth to Simon’s heir. Then we see them saying good bye to Colin who’s off to tour the continent. Book Colin actually returned FROM the continent the night of Lady Danbury’s ball. 

Then we get a hint of the next season, knowing that it’s going to be Anthony’s turn. 

AT THE END OF THE DAY

What do I think?

Well, the series was HIGHLY entertaining. I enjoyed watching it, which, for me, is the chief purpose of TV shows like this. So that’s one box checked.

Was it faithful to the book?

Largely, yes. And whatever departures it made didn’t take away from the book, IMO. 

Was I bothered about the ‘colorblind’ casting?

No. Like I said before, I had no problems believing the black actors were the characters they played. It wasn’t a shock and it certainly wasn’t distracting. 

So I loved it; I may rewatch it from time to time while waiting for Season 2 as we go into Anthony’s story in, The Viscount Who Loved Me.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

The U.S. Senate acquitted President Trump on charges of abuse of power and obstruction of Congress on Wednesday — the end of a trial that lasted about three weeks. The chamber’s Republicans blocked Democratic motions to call witnesses during the trial and then voted to acquit Trump. The votes were almost entirely along party lines. All 47 Democrats and Democratic-leaning independents voted for both articles of impeachment. Mitt Romney of Utah was the only senator from either party to break party ranks, voting in favor of the abuse of power article and against the obstruction charge.

The final votes were 48-52 against the abuse of power charge, and 47-53 against the obstruction charge.

Trump is only the third president to be impeached in U.S. history. He is also the third president to be acquitted in the Senate. (Richard Nixon is not one of the three, as he resigned before a full House vote or Senate trial.)

Trump is the first president, however, who will stand for reelection after an impeachment and acquittal — Andrew Johnson did not run after his impeachment and acquittal in 1868, and Bill Clinton could not run after his impeachment and acquittal because of term limits.

In other words, the circumstances of Trump’s impeachment are unique. Viewed narrowly, nothing has really changed — Trump remains in office, and is likely to continue to disregard traditional norms and, at times, core democratic values. His approval rating isn’t great, but it hasn’t meaningfully gone up or down during the impeachment process. But in part because Trump will now run for reelection, the impeachment process has a number of important implications.

1. Acquittal could result in Trump feeling that he has the license to do whatever he wants until November — and potentially beyond.

There is clear evidence that Trump, using both his official government aides and his private lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, postponed both a White House visit by Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky and hundreds of millions of dollars in military aid to Ukraine as he pushed for the Ukrainians to announce an investigation of the Bidens. So the Republicans in the House and the Senate, by refusing to join with Democrats to force Trump from office, have effectively exonerated the president for actions that are arguably both illegal (according to the nonpartisan Government Accountability Office) and authoritarian (according to experts on authoritarianism). By leaving Trump in office, Republicans have to some extent also validated the very expansive views of the president’s authority and power that Trump’s lawyers invoked in defending him against impeachment.

Republicans in Congress also essentially consented to the president circumventing the legislative branch. Congress authorized military aid to Ukraine, but Trump refused to release it unless Ukraine complied with a condition (investigate the Bidens) that Congress likely never would have sanctioned. Giuliani essentially was directing U.S. foreign policy on Ukraine, even though he was not confirmed by Congress, and Congress did not know the extent of his involvement until it was discovered by the press.

So post-acquittal, what will Trump do next? Does he withhold foreign aid from other nations if they refuse to investigate the eventual Democratic nominee? Does Trump’s administration, which refused to comply with subpoenas and document requests during the House’s impeachment investigation, basically disregard any future attempts at congressional oversight? Have Republicans in Congress left the country and the world with an American president who believes he is essentially above the law? The stakes here are enormous.

The answer to those questions, in my view, is maybe, as opposed to a clear yes. Remember, one of the defenses of Trump by congressional Republicans throughout this process has been that Ukraine eventually did get the military aid. The White House released the aid on Sept. 11, two days after the House announced it was opening an inquiry into the president’s actions regarding Ukraine. So it’s not clear that Republicans in Congress have actually condoned the idea that aid to other countries from the U.S. can or should be conditioned on those nations agreeing to investigate Trump’s political rivals. And perhaps Trump won’t actually push another foreign government to investigate a rival because he wants to avoid criticism, minimize the potential for a second impeachment or, yes, because he now understands it’s improper.

So Trump may not have a full green light to do whatever he wants. But it’s closer to green than it is to red.

2. Republicans are fully, totally aligned with Trump.

No Republicans in the House and only one in the Senate (Romney) voted for Trump’s impeachment or removal. Influential voices in the party, such as GOP governors and Fox News anchors, stood by him throughout the process. Fewer than 10 percent of Republican voters support the president’s removal. Other than Sens. Lamar Alexander of Tennessee and Romney, there were few prominent GOP voices who stated unequivocally that it was inappropriate for the president and his team to give any suggestion to Ukraine that U.S. aid would be tied to an investigation of the Bidens.

For some Republicans, this loyalty to Trump contradicts one of the core goals of most politicians: winning reelection. Sen. Cory Gardner of Colorado, for example, is up for reelection in November in a Democratic-leaning state where Trump is not particularly popular.

He not only voted against Trump’s removal, but took a strong, public stance against having witnesses in the trial.

But Gardner and other senators seeking to retain seats Democrats are targeting this November, such as Susan Collins of Maine and Martha McSally of Arizona, may have played the politics of impeachment smartly. In a party where loyalty to Trump is highly valued, creating any real distance between you and the president may cost you Republican votes that you absolutely must have to win. And there’s no real guarantee that you’d pick up independent or Democratic votes in the bargain. In fact, given current levels of negative partisanship — where supporters of one party hate the other party more than they like their own — picking up support from anti-Trump voters seems highly unlikely.

3. Democrats don’t seem to have suffered any kind of impeachment backlash.

Democrats were leery of pushing for impeachment for much of 2019, amid the investigation of Trump by Special Counsel Robert Mueller. In Democrats’ view, a partisan impeachment backfired on congressional Republicans in the last few years of the Clinton presidency, and they wanted to avoid a similar backlash. I think that interpretation of the Clinton impeachment is a bit off. Republicans won control of the House, Senate and presidency in the 2000 elections, with Al Gore distancing himself from Clinton, who Gore viewed as a controversial figure in part because of the impeachment process.

Democrats felt forced to push for impeachment after Trump’s actions towards Ukraine became public. The impeachment process ended up with party-line votes, a result House Speaker Nancy Pelosi wanted to avoid. But there is little sign that voters have turned on Democrats. According to FiveThirtyEight’s trackers, Democrats lead on the congressional generic ballot, about half of Americans support removing Trump from office and Trump remains fairly unpopular.

4. The 2020 election will be an all-out partisan war.

OK, you might say that we knew this already, and maybe we did. But congressional Democrats have, in their actions and words, suggested that Trump is unfit to be president and should be removed. Trump, through his actions and words, has shown that he will do basically anything to keep power. Already, America can at times feel like it’s in a non-military civil war, with two competing coalitions that question not just the other coalition’s policy views, but its values and its Americanness.

A Democratic nominee, particularly Biden, is likely to campaign on the idea that he or she is the last defense against Trump turning America into a less democratic and tolerant nation. Trump rose to power as the champion of people who felt aggrieved and ignored by an increasingly liberal, multicultural America. Post-impeachment, Trump is likely to make aggrievement even more a core part of his message–with the president likely to cite his own impeachment as example of how and his supporters must defend themselves against an out-of-control American left.

5. The impeachment process put on full display deeper problems with America’s democracy.

There’s an active debate among scholars and journalists about whether to describe American politics by focusing on polarization (the two sides are really divided) or by focusing on the radicalization of the Republican Party (so one side is really causing the division). Another disagreement is whether American voters are really divided or if the division exists mainly among political elites.

The impeachment process shows how these ideas are all interconnected — and how it’s hard to tell a simple story about what’s wrong with America’s democracy and who is to blame. Trump’s actions toward Ukraine were radical — Barack Obama did not try to have a foreign government investigate Romney in 2012. Republican elites generally defended Trump’s conduct. So did Republican voters. But polls showed some wariness about Trump’s actions toward Ukraine among a sizable bloc of GOP voters (about a fourth in some polls). That Trump skeptic, however, wasn’t really represented on Fox News or Capitol Hill. So Republican politicians and Trump are probably driving polarization but also responding to GOP voters, who choose Trump over more than a dozen more traditional candidates in 2016 and still strongly approve of him now.

Post-impeachment, we are left with a lot of unknowns that were unimaginable five years ago. Will the American president allow a truly free and fair election? Has he created a precedent where future presidents will use government power to investigate their political rivals? If he wins a second term, what other democratic norms and values will he flout?

[vfdbaudelairefile13]

Dear reader,

I must caution you about this next chapter. This is the chapter where we continue to explore creepy undertones pertaining to Olaf as a character. If you are not comfortable with reading about predatory behavior, comments ranging from vague to slightly explicit (on the topic of these predatory behaviors), a young girl being restrained, a young girl being threatened, physical violence against a minor, threats to a minor, or vague to slightly specific comments about pedophilia, a creepy fuck stroking a young girl's hair, cheek, and leg... I would suggest skipping specific parts of this chapter. Since this time around it's spread around the VIOLET half of the chapter (although a few vague hints could be found in Klaus and Sunny's section).

Please read with caution. If anything becomes too triggering or makes you too uncomfortable I am happy to summarize in vague details (when going over certain parts) so you are still able to follow the story. Please if you can't read this chapter in its entirely, I will be more than happy to explain the events of the chapter in a less descriptive way.

_______________________________________________________________ Friendly Reminder:

I, Susan, the author of Misery Loves Company also wants to make it abundantly clear that THE TOPICS/TRIGGERS IN THIS CHAPTER are things I frown upon entirely. I do NOT condone pedophilia at all, whatsoever. And I believe it is NOW in my fic that I will say this: if you ship the disgusting vile mess of a 'ship' that is Violaf...I would prefer if you stop interacting with my page, my story, and any of my works. Just because I put it in my story does not mean I condone it. I am using it as a element to explain why this sort of shit is WRONG.

If we are being abundantly honest, it is these segments that I have the hardest time writing and editing. It is a long, hard process and it never gets easier. No matter how vague the comment Olaf or even Esme make is, it is never easy. It makes my blood boil, my skin crawl and my stomach churn.

I don't feel right saying 'enjoy' because this is a tough pill to swallow.

So read with caution. Let me know if you feel I went too far or if you just want to comment like normal. I am not perfect. I am open to criticism. I just needed to make sure all my readers understand where I stand on the topic of Count Olaf's creepy ass infatuation to Violet.

Read with caution. Love the support you guys have given this fic.

-Susan.

____________________________________________________

                                           Chapter Fifty:

                           The One With Violet's Close Call

Klaus and Sunny paced around the small medical closet that they were currently hiding in. They had decided to be paranoid and barricade the door on their end so no one would enter their hideout. Before doing so, Klaus opened the door just a bit so he can peek around the hall and locate the security cameras. He feared that Olaf would catch them simply because he could be watching them on security cameras. After they blocked themselves in, Sunny explained to Klaus that she planned to watch the bottom of the door and she’ll notify him if she sees anyone’s shadows.

Klaus and Sunny were worrying about being recognized by anyone because of the ridiculous lies that had been written about Violet and Klaus in The Daily Punctilio, so the two Baudelaires knew that whatever they planned to do in order to save Violet they had to make sure they were undetected by not only the hospital personnel and patients but by Olaf, Esme, and the troupe who were undoubtedly lurking around the hospital in their ridiculous doctor costumes searching for the two younger orphans.

As the children paced around in silence, both siblings’ minds were racing. “We’ve got to rescue Violet and get out of this hostile hospital,” Klaus said aloud. He was talking more so to himself than Sunny, but Sunny replied anyway.

“But how?” she asked. Klaus sighed and shrugged his shoulders. Both siblings were trying their hardest to concentrate on their situation at hand. Both trying to ignore the fear that was lingering with them. Both were also focused on what Jacques Snicket had said.

Klaus ran his hand through his hair anxiously as he thought about the Snicket file that resided in his pocket next to his sister’s father’s wallet.

There’s a survivor.

Their trouble is over.

They were going to be okay.

They just had to find their mother.

Klaus sighed. He felt a bit bad when his mind focused on the possibility of his mother being the survivor, it was nothing against his father. Truth be told if his father was the survivor, he’d be equally as happy. He just...desperately wanted his mother.

He didn’t understand if there was a survivor, why weren’t they searching for their kids? He knew that his parents would be fighting tooth and nail to reunite themselves with their children. His mother and father were two kind, attentive, supportive, and loving parents. He gave a small smile as he imagined being reunited with his mother again, being able to feel her arms around him in a big bear hug as he feels her warmth and feels safe. His smile widened as he imagined his mother kicking Olaf and Esme’s ass for everything that they had put the kids through.

Sunny paced around the small room, walking in a different pattern than Klaus. She glanced around at all the supplies that were in the room, every so often glancing at the door to make sure that no one was trying to get in the room that she and her brother were hiding in. She took the small yellow ribbon out of her hair as she carefully twisted her hair into it, tying it out of her face. What would Violet do? She asked herself as she tapped her finger on her chin as she thought hard. She glanced over at her brother, who seemed lost in his own thoughts. She took the opportunity to open Violet’s locket again, she wasn’t entirely sure what this would do, but she felt like she needed to see one of her parents’ faces especially after the bombshell that Jacques Snicket had given the children during his briefing of the Snicket file.

She looked at the picture of her mother holding baby Violet and smiled. She missed her mother entirely but as she stared at the picture in her older sister’s locket, Sunny couldn’t help but frown when she thought about her father. Staring at the picture of her mother holding a baby girl in her arms reminded Sunny so much about how their mother used to hold her and sing to her whenever she was fussy. How her mother would clap enthusiastically when Sunny used a new word. She sighed as she ran her finger over the picture of her mother. All these memories made Sunny miss her mother, but they somehow made her miss her father more. She didn’t get to see any pictures of her father as often as she would prefer. The kids had two pictures of their parents stuffed away in Klaus’ pockets along with other documents and important scraps of paper the two younger orphans had been collecting ever since their unfortunate events had begun. So when Sunny gazed down at the photos in her sister’s locket, she wondered where in her world her father could be. Was he looking for them? Was it difficult for him to locate his children because they kept moving? She remembered spending afternoons with her father, who would be entertaining her with his poetry recitals. Sometimes he’d put on a show for Sunny, act out a silly poem or if he was reciting a serious think piece, he would analyze the poem with Sunny and even though she didn’t entirely understand what her father was saying all the time, she was happy. She never understood why Klaus would groan outwardly when their father would run up behind him and somehow still lift him up, ready to recite another poem of John Godfrey Saxe. She found it both entertaining and informational. She frowned when she realized that her actively thinking her father was the survivor meant that she wasn’t rooting for her mother. Like her brother, Sunny had nothing against their mother. She would be equally as happy if it were Beatrice who had survived the fire. But Sunny couldn’t shake the fun image of her father randomly showing up and kicking Olaf and Esme’s asses after putting the kids through all of this bullshit. Sunny smirked wickedly to herself when she thought about what her father might do to Olaf when she told him about what Olaf did to Klaus.

Dada…?

Mommy?

Where are you? Your babies need you.

As both siblings thought about the survivor of the fire and wondered where in the world the survivor could be, their faces turned sour simultaneously when, like clockwork, they both thought the same exact thing.

What if Lemony was the survivor?

Both siblings were blissfully unaware that they were thinking the same thing as Sunny bit her lip nervously and Klaus sighed miserably. Both too lost in thought to ask the other what was wrong.

What if Lemony was the survivor? As the two Baudelaire orphans thought about it...it made sense, didn’t it? For the survivor to be Lemony? The file was called the Snicket File, although Klaus had reasons to believe that it could have been named that simply because the star of the film was Jacques Snicket and Sunny could have guessed that maybe the makers of the film deliberately wanted to name it that just to cause this level of confusion. But again as the two orphans thought about it...their worries began to skyrocket. Jacques was Lemony’s brother, it would make sense that he’d investigate his brother’s death rather than their parents. But that wasn’t what was gnawing at the fragile minds of Klaus and Sunny Baudelaire. What was gnawing viciously at their minds was one question.

What would happen to them if Lemony was the survivor?

Obviously, if Lemony was the survivor, this meant he would be reunited with his daughter. Both siblings sighed at the same time as they came to this realization. It was the first time that the table had turned and it was the Baudelaires feeling excluded rather than Violet. Both didn’t know what would happen to them if he were the survivor. Lemony had no obligation to Klaus or Sunny. He was not their birth father and he had not raised them.

Would he go through the trouble to adopt us? Sunny pondered.

He wouldn’t leave us to fend for ourselves? Klaus wondered.

Truth was the kids just weren’t sure. Although they had met Lemony Snicket on a few occasions, they didn’t get the pleasure in actually getting to know him, seeing that every time they had seen him, he was in disguise just as Olaf was and the situation was always too tense and dangerous where there was rarely ever a moment in time where the kids could have had a decent conversation with the man who was desperately trying to help them. Klaus remembered the brief conversation he had with Lemony back when the kids lived with Josephine and Lemony was disguised as Steve Barkin, how he mentioned having a daughter and tried to convince Klaus that he was a good big brother. But other than that, Klaus didn’t know much about him.

The Baudelaires could easily assume that Lemony would be a decent human being, as he was before he had died and he would adopt the children either officially or unofficially depending on what he sought as best with his complicated circumstances. But he didn’t have any obligation to the Baudelaire children. As much as they hoped that he would take them with him and Violet, he could just as easily take Violet and abandon the two Baudelaires. The children wouldn’t be surprised, by this point in their sad story, they were used to it.

Now they both knew that if either one of their parents was the survivor that they would take in Violet immediately. No questions asked whatsoever. But they were able to come up with that conclusion very easily because they knew their parents. They knew their parents wouldn’t hesitate to gain a relationship with their estranged daughter. Violet was Beatrice’s biological daughter and had fate not intervened, she would have been raised by Bertrand, which would have made their father her father as well. They knew their father would not hesitate to have another child even if that child was not his biologically, that’s how great of a man Bertrand Baudelaire was. The two siblings also knew that if their mother had the chance to simply lay her eyes on the powerhouse force that her eldest daughter was, she would recognize Violet immediately as her child and would rush up and grab Violet and probably never let her go as she sobbed and apologized for things out of their mother’s control. Because they both knew that their mother was a decent and amazing woman.

Both siblings imagined for a second, how life would have been like had Violet never been separated from their mother and father. Klaus could imagine all the siblings' arguments and bonding moments that he and Violet would have had had she been around. He imagined how holidays would have been and how normal days would have been. Would he and Violet be closer? Would they have grown to hate each other? He pondered to himself. He slowly smiled, he had a feeling that being raised alongside Violet would have simply made him idolize her more as a big sister. He could see his younger self rushing into her room when he was scared of the loud thunderstorms outside instead of his mother and father’s room. He could see her building them a small little fort where they could pretend that the storm couldn’t get to them because Violet had built the shelter with the full purpose of making it stormproof even if the fort was made out of the most basic of materials like blankets and pillows. He could see her wanting her to sit with him during his first optometrist appointment instead of his father. He could see her beating up schoolyard bullies for him and just doing all the things big sisters do. But as he thought about it...he didn’t give the negative aspects even a thought. He knew big sisters were supposed to relentlessly tease and annoy. He knew that they were the only ones allowed to pick on their younger siblings. He knew growing up with Violet could have been different when it came to the family dynamics. He would never have had all of his parents' undivided attention, he would have had to fight Violet for it and he had a feeling he would have lost that battle a lot. He knew that if Violet had been raised alongside him that he probably would have been compared to her a lot because that’s what parents do. But he didn’t care. He wouldn’t have minded if life turned out like that.

Sunny, on the other hand, thought about how if Violet had been raised alongside her and Klaus that Violet would have been there the day that she came home from the hospital. She would have probably been like Klaus, teaching her how to talk, read, and walk. She wondered what else Violet would have tried to teach her. Sunny smiled as she imagined how family game nights would have gone with Violet’s addition. How chaotic that would have been with the five of them duking it out over Uno or Monopoly. Sunny had a feeling if Violet had been there from the start, that she would have been able to see the treehouse that she and Klaus shared more often. Klaus wasn’t entirely fond of it because it was getting too old and he felt as though it was dangerous to be in there but she knew that Violet would have made it a special project to fix it up for Sunny.

But as the children thought about this alternate timeline, they both felt bad for taking Lemony out of the picture and it brought them back to their worries that if it was so easy for them to do to him...how easy would it have been to do for him? And as they went back to pondering about whether or not Lemony would help them if he was the survivor, the children felt a mixture of emotions.

Cause with Lemony, Klaus and Sunny wouldn’t be able to entirely blame him if he were to take Violet and leave. Hell, they wouldn’t blame Violet for giving up on them and leaving with her father if she wanted to. The Baudelaires both feared that Lemony and possibly even Violet would finally see the two orphans as far too much trouble. Which as they further thought about it, it made perfect sense as to why the kids could be described as ‘too much trouble’.

No matter what Violet tried to tell them, the siblings knew that they were the reason Lemony was dead. They were the reason that Violet got sucked into this misfortune. Even if Lemony was the one who had decided to come out of hiding with the hopes of helping them survive Count Olaf. They cost him his life and if he turned out to be alive and would rather stay clear of the danger magnets that they have been proven to be. They couldn’t...and wouldn’t fault him.  They were also the reason that his brother was now dead. And there was no mistaking that on Sunny’s part.

Sunny knew Jacques was dead, she was forced to witness it with her own two eyes. Sleeping at night was difficult these days for young Sunny Baudelaire, although whenever she was able to cuddle up with one or both of her siblings, she felt safe enough that she could sleep and she found that when she was in the warm embrace of one of her older siblings it was as if a barrier is put around her and the harmful images of Olaf murdering Jacques couldn’t enter her head and torment her.

But Klaus didn’t need to witness Jacques’ murder to know he’s dead. He saw Jacques’ dead body being rowed out. Both children shuddered as they thought about the fact that Olaf had killed possibly two men in his wicked pursuit of them and now he had their fourteen-year-old sister in his clutches.

Both felt sharp pangs of guilt as a wave of sick, cruel realization poured over them when they realized that they were the reason why Violet was kidnapped and whatever Olaf was doing to her was on them. Klaus felt this pang of guilt harder than Sunny had because he knew what Olaf’s sick intentions with Violet were and he didn’t act fast enough to convince her splitting up was the worst thing the trio could have done. He hadn’t fought her hard enough to exit the mail chute and he allowed Esme and Olaf to take one of his sisters.

Klaus felt a few sharp pings of worry hit him as he thought about his doubts. The longer it took for him to come up with a plan, the more time the kids had to get caught and even if that didn’t happen it was more time that Olaf had Violet in his clutches. Klaus knew that he couldn’t let him and Sunny get caught because he refused to make Violet’s sacrifice fruitless. He also couldn’t let them get caught for obvious reasons. He knew Olaf wasn’t going to leave the hospital without all three kids. So he and Sunny merely had to avoid getting caught in their attempt to rescue Violet.

Klaus watched as Sunny did another routine check of the door. She watched for a few moments just to be extra cautious. He gave a small smile as he watched her walk-in tiny circles, tying her own hair. Klaus had a special sense of pride as he thought about how much Sunny had grown since that day on the beach when their lives first changed for the worst. Sunny was out of her infancy and was in the beginning stages of her toddlerhood and she was surely showing it. She was walking on her own and even talking in sentences for the most part, completely able to articulate her thoughts. Even going through everything she had been through, Klaus could see Sunny growing up into a chaotic mix of both of her parents. She had the best qualities of both Beatrice and Bertrand. Hell, Sunny had her moments where she reminded Klaus so much of Violet, like right now, as Sunny paced around silently, untying and retying her hair with her small yellow ribbon. The thing that surprised him the most about Sunny was that even after failing her so many times, she still believed in him so much. He didn’t understand why though.

Klaus felt tears spring to his face. You are the absolute worst brother in the world. You can’t protect them.

He turned quickly and glanced at Sunny once more. He couldn’t help but think this way. Violet was definitely the better big sibling for Sunny. She was proving it right now by being Olaf’s captive while allowing Klaus and Sunny a chance at an escape. While Klaus was hiding inside a large closet desperately trying to figure out a plan to save Violet. Sunny had definitely surprised him when she had compared him to Violet positively. That’s something he ever really did, always feeling inferior to his older sister especially when it comes to how they both were at being an older sister. ‘You are the best big brother I could ask for’ Sunny had said when she compared him positively to Violet. Then she had told Klaus that she loved in believed in them both.

Klaus’ thoughts shifted just slightly when he also remembered what Sunny now knows. His blood boiled and he felt the desire to punch a wall angrily. How dare Olaf haunt his baby sister with the gory, gruesome details of the pain he had caused her older brother after he had desperately tried to save her back when they were still in that bastard’s ‘care’. Olaf had absolutely no right and Klaus knew he only did that to try to scare Sunny and that made him even angrier. He hated the fact that Sunny now felt guilty about it even though he did not have a single reason to blame Sunny.

Klaus turned to Sunny, sighing, finally breaking the silence.

“We have to rescue Violet before it’s too late,” he explained to Sunny.

“But we don’t know where she is,” Sunny countered, although she nodded her head in agreement.

“ Violet must be somewhere in this hospital. Otherwise, Olaf and Esme would have left by now. He and Esme are probably hoping to capture us to,”

“Then we have to find her,” Sunny replied turning to her brother. “But how?”

Klaus sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Olaf is watching us through the fucking security cameras and the rest of the hospital might recognize us from the bullshit Daily Punctilio.”

Both children looked at one another depressingly. They both wondered just how long Violet had had that photo of them hidden away in secret in her locket that now rested on Sunny’s chest. They both knew that they needed to act soon because they both did not like the idea of Violet being in Olaf’s clutches. Before either one can further the conversation they could hear an approaching crowd of cheerful singers.

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another and shrugged their shoulders. “Hide within crowd?” Sunny suggested as Klaus picked her up quickly.

“Better than nothing.” Klaus agreed. “We’ll just have to be extra careful today,”

Sunny nodded emphatically, a word which here means ‘as if she thought being extra careful was a good plan,’ and Klaus nodded emphatically back as he quickly unbarricaded the door, listening for the crowd to be right outside the door before exiting the room. Both Baudelaire children felt less and less emphatic about what they were doing as they waited by the door. Ever since that terrible day at the beach, when Mr. Poe brought them news of the fire, both Baudelaire orphans had been extra careful all of the time. They had been extra careful when they lived with Count Olaf, and Sunny had still ended up dangling from a cage outside Olaf’s tower room. They had been extra careful when they’d worked at Lucky Smells Lumbermill, and Klaus had still ended up hypnotized by Dr. Orwell. And now the Baudelaires had been as careful as they could possibly be, but the hospital had turned out to be as hostile an environment as anywhere the two children had ever lived. And as their hearts were beating faster and faster, they heard their opportunity to exit the small room and hide within the cheerful VFD.

“ We are Volunteers  and we’re cheerful all day long! If someone said that we were sad, that person would be wrong. Tra-la-la Fiddle-dee-dee Hope you get well soon. Ho-ho-ho,” the members of VFD sang as Klaus hurriedly opened the door and forced him and his baby sister into the direct middle of the crowd.

“Could we have some balloons?” Klaus asked.

“Of course, brother!” Brandon said patting Klaus’ shoulder. He handed Sunny two balloons and gave the children a confused look. “Where’s the older sister, brother?” he asked confused.

Klaus and Sunny looked at one another. “She’s under the weather,” Sunny explained quickly.

“I’m sorry to hear that!” Brandon said cheerfully as he tied a balloon gently to Sunny’s wrist. “Give her this heart-shaped balloon! And to get well soon!” he said smiling. “Ooh, that rhymed. We should add that to the song somehow.” he addressed the other members who were all smiling and ready to partake in the singing again.

Sunny maneuvered the balloons to cover both her face and her brother’s face as Klaus carried her trying his best to sing along to the song so that the volunteers would allow him and Sunny to stay in the group. The song and the singing were too cheerful and annoying for Klaus to truly enjoy this plan. But what better place to hide than among people who believed that no news was good news, which means they don’t read the newspaper.

To the children’s relief, the volunteers paid no attention as Klaus and Sunny glanced around desperately looking for any signs of their big sister or Olaf and his group. As they followed the group from room to room, both Baudelaires concluded that this might be the best way for them to search the hospital. Maybe Olaf had disguised their sister as a patient since he was disguised as a doctor.

The children went into several rooms, watching as the Volunteers Fighting Disease ignored real ways to help the hospital’s patients and they cheerfully sang their song oblivious to exactly how useful or helpful they were being. They saw a man with both legs in casts and a woman with both arms in bandages. They watched a member tie a balloon to the woman’s cast because she wouldn’t be able to hold it.  They watched as the group ignored the patients’ request of a glass of water and for their nurse to be called so they could receive their pain killers. Klaus and Sunny wanted to help these people but they were too afraid of whether or not the patients had read The Daily Punctilio so as the VFD members ignored their requests, the Baudelaires regretfully did, too.

“If we visit each and every room of this hospital,” Klaus whispered to Sunny as the group exited the room to go to a different room. “We’re sure to find Violet,”

“Agreed. Although seeing sick people makes me sad,” Sunny replied.

“Same here, Sunshine.”

The next room contained a man that reminded them of Mr. Poe because he had a severe, nasty cough. As they watched the volunteers sing their song and hand the man a balloon, the children believed that a good humidifier would be more effective way to fight this disease than a cheerful attitude and the two were tempted to run and find a humidifier for this sick man, but they knew Violet was in much more danger than a man with a cough and again, they couldn’t risk being recognized.

On and on the volunteers marched, and Klaus and Sunny marched with them, but with every ho ho ho and he he he their hearts sank lower and lower. The two Baudelaires followed the members of VFD up and down the staircases of the hospital, and although they saw a great number of confusing maps, intercom speakers, security cameras which they made sure to avoid looking directly into, and sick people, they did not catch a glimpse of their sister. As they entered each room, nowhere, in any of the rooms that the volunteers marched into, was Violet Snicket, who Klaus and Sunny feared, was suffering more than any other patient.

“We’ve been wandering all morning, and we’re no closer to saving our sister,” Klaus whispered to Sunny, but Sunny didn’t reply. As Klaus marched with the volunteers up another flight of stairs as he carried Sunny, Sunny had focused on something that kept her eye.

“Shh,” Sunny whispered back.

“Why?” Klaus asked in a whisper.

“Bald fucker,” Sunny whispered, pointing as stealthily as she could ahead of them. Someone coming down the stairs, he was several steps above the kids and he looked to be running down the stairs in a hurry. “And Hook-Man.”

“What do we do?” Klaus whispered worriedly, realizing that if the bald man and the Hook-Handed Man were descending down the stairs, that they would have a good viewpoint advantage on the kids.

“Kiss the balloon,” Sunny whispered back as she shoved one balloon in Klaus’ face. He shifted Sunny so that he can hold the balloon in his face while she used one of the balloons to hide her face and the third one, that Brandon had intended for Violet to cover the top of her head. She hoped that if the bald man were to look over at the Volunteers Fighting Disease he would just see the top of Klaus’ head and assume he was one person rather than two, carrying three balloons.

The children’s hearts were beating fast in their chests as they continued marching in the middle of the group of volunteers.

__________________________________________________________

Violet opened her eyes and groaned in pain. Her head was throbbing from Esme slamming it into the hospital wall. She glanced around the room to find that she had been once again tied down to the gurney. She felt tape once again around her mouth. She tried desperately to kick her feet but to her surprise, Olaf and Esme must have tied her ankles to the damn gurney, too.

Nonetheless, Violet struggled as hard as she could trying to make some kind of noise in a desperate attempt to get someone to rescue her. She didn’t have much time to struggle, though because the door to the room began to open. Her heart dropped.

“I’m just saying, Boss. Your name could use a little work,” The Hook-Handed Man explained.

“What do you mean? It’s fucking brilliant,” Olaf growled, rolling his eyes.

The Hook-Handed Man looked at him incredulously, “Really?” he asked. “Dr. Medical-School?”

“Like you could’ve come up with anything better,” Olaf muttered annoyed.

“You could’ve said literally anything else. Like...House...or Howser?”

Olaf growled again. “Watch the door,” he ordered his henchman as he turned towards Violet.

Violet’s heart sank further as she watched the Hook-Handed Man’s facial expression change almost immediately. “B-but don’t you need my hooks…to tear her to shreds?” the man asked meekly. Violet gave both men an intense glare.

“Just wait outside the door,” Olaf hissed as he watched his henchman turn around unhappily and walked outside the door. Violet glanced down at the bottom of the door to make sure that the man hadn’t entirely left, thankfully for her, she could see the shadows that his feet made as he stood in front of the door, guarding it against anyone who would try to enter.

Olaf walked menacingly towards Violet. He glared down at Violet. Violet glared back at him with daggers. She refused to show him fear or weakness so she was hoping that she looked more intimidating than she felt seeing as though Olaf most definitely had the upper hand.

Olaf reached down, grabbed the edge of the tape and pulled it off Violet’s mouth as quickly and painfully as he can. “You fucking bitch!” she hissed.

“Comfy?” he asked her, smirking at the helpless girl.

“Fuck off,” Violet hissed, still glaring at him. “Klaus and Sunny will find me.”

Olaf merely shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe they will...maybe they won’t. I mean I’m counting on it. Can’t let those brats live after causing me so much trouble.”

“You fucker,”

“But you see, if I were Klaus...I’d do the sensible thing and leave this hospital with that bucktoothed brat,”

“Well, it’s a good thing Klaus isn’t a damn thing like you, then.”

“Well, what do you expect to happen, Violet?” Olaf asked as he began to pet her hair. Violet moved her head vigorously, trying to move away from his touch. “I mean...if I had the option to save my real sister or some desperate little girl who just wants to belong...I’d save my sister.”

Violet’s glare intensified. “I am their real sister, you fucking piece of shit.” she hissed as he smiled down at her. The way that he was looking at her, made the pit of fear in her stomach grow.

Olaf rolled his eyes as he grabbed the edge of the gurney harshly. Causing Violet to flinch. He smiled at her reaction. She responded just how he wanted her to. “You know, Violet, it doesn’t have to end this way…” he muses slowly walking around the gurney. Violet tried her hardest to keep her eyes glued on him, to make sure she could see him at every second. But as he circled her like a shark circling its prey, she was feeling dizzy. “I see the way you roll your eyes at the mere mention of VFD.”

Violet shifted her gaze to where he had stopped moving. He was standing behind her head, she glanced up at him, still glaring but behind her eyes, she knew that fear was starting to show. She had no idea what he had planned. “I may hate VFD. But I despise you!” she hisses.

“I’m flattered,” he says as he caresses her cheek. She shudders under his touch. She whimpers softly, violently trying to move her arms and legs, to break her restraints but as Olaf watches her struggle, his smirk widens and her heart sinks further into her chest which Violet didn’t know it was possible. “But you don’t mean that…”

“Oh, believe me, I do!”

Olaf smirk widened. “You know...it’s not just VFD that is to blame for what you’re going through…”

“I know it’s…” Violet began before Olaf interrupted her.

“Your dear father...may he rest in ashes.” Olaf snarled leaning closer to Violet’s ear. Causing the girl to shrink to the farther side of the gurney as much as her restraints would allow.

“ Fuck you!” she screeches as she continues to struggle more.

“And...Beatrice…” Olaf added, he watched as Violet’s face turned from one of unbridled anger to pure sadness. ‘You know…” he began, his voice becoming gentler but not in a comforting way. His voice became patronizing and belittling, but softer in volume. He walked over to the side of the gurney once more, kneeling down so that he no longer towered Violet but he was nearly face to face with her which made her move her head as far away from him as she could. “Beatrice hurt me, too. You’re not the only person that she hurt.”

Violet couldn’t believe her ears, was Olaf truly trying to pin her misfortune on her birth mother. Was he trying desperately to shift the blame from himself and VFD to her parents? She continued to glare at him as he sighed. He caressed Violet’s cheek again.

“Since you’re such a pretty girl…” he explained. “I’m willing to give you a chance to join me, Violet.” He watched as her expression changed to one that he couldn’t read. He couldn’t tell if she was considering it or was entirely shocked by his mere suggestion. “Together...we could destroy VFD once and for all. All you’d have to do is two simple things... for me.”

Violet’s stomach churned uncomfortably as she grimaced. She didn’t know what he meant by that last part but as they say, curiosity killed the cat. She looked up at Olaf, her glare still present but her fear was coming through so it wasn’t as intense as it had been. Olaf took that as a sign of her already considering his offer before even hearing what she’d have to do.

Olaf continued to caress her cheek as he spoke, Violet tried her damnedest to move her face from his touch but he, unfortunately, had the advantage. “Would it be so awful?” he asked. She looked at him with a face full of confusion and discomfort. “Would it be so awful to spend the rest of your life...with me? In my troupe...at my side...at my beck and call? I’ve seen your inventions, you could be very useful to my troupe, unlike those pesky Baudelaires.” He leaned in close to her. “Think about it, my pet,” he whispered into her ear as he stroked her cheek. Her skin felt like it was crawling and her blood was boiling but she was beginning to feel paralyzed under his cruel touch. “We could burn down this organization together!”

“...keep...talking…” she replied meekly, narrowing her eyes. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this. But at this point, she’d do almost anything to help her siblings escape from Olaf’s treachery.

“When you’re of age, you give me your fortune,” He began. “You see, once I have your fortune...I wouldn’t dispose of you like I would that irritating bookworm and biting brat.”

She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized he was still more interested in her stupid fucking money than what she had been expecting for him to say. Although the second part of that statement was one that she didn’t really like. She would rather an option where Olaf didn’t dispose of Klaus and Sunny. But when Violet weighed her options on the financial part of his offer, there was barely any hesitation. It was just money. Who the fuck cares? She thought. The only thing I care about right now is my siblings.  But as she opened her mouth to respond, she remembered he had said there were two things he needed her to do for him. Fear came crashing in once more as she began to expect the worst.

“And...what else?”

“You help me lure those bratty Baudelaires so I can destroy them.” He replied smiling wickedly at her.

Still surprised by his answer, since that was not where she believed he was going with this conversation. She took the time to weigh her options. She took into account everything that Olaf had said up to this point. Since the day that Violet had the absolute misfortune of meeting this vile and terrible man.

Finally, Violet smiled and in the most enthusiastic voice she could muster up she said, “Of course, I’ll join you!”

Olaf smiled at this. He placed his hand under her chin, turning her face to make her face him. “Pretty and smart,” Violet responded with another rough shudder as she tried to move her chin from his grasp. But he held her firmly. “Now...all you have to do is tell me where those brats are hiding.”

Violet nodded and he let go of her chin. “Of course, I’ll tell you where they’re hiding!” Violet replies using the same over-the-top voice. “Now, when you capture them you can’t tell them that I told you.”

“Of course. Of course.” He replied, a Grinch-like smile appearing across his face. This was too easy. He thought. She did her best to motion for him to come closer so that she could whisper her siblings' location in his ear. His smile somehow got wider and far creepier as he began to move closer to her.

“Now listen carefully,” Violet replied as Olaf could no longer contain his excitement. He was soon going to have all three orphans to torture and do whatever the fuck he wanted to and what made this even better is that Violet was going to sell out her siblings and hand them to him on a silver platter.

As he got closer to her face, Violet gave the vile man, a quick, sarcastic smile as she spits directly in his face. “ Snickets take care of their own!” she screamed in his ear as loud as she could.

Olaf growled, a loud, inhumane growl as he slapped her across the face with as much strength as he could muster. “ You little bitch!” he screamed as her head shot to the side harshly. One cheek feeling the wrath of Olaf’s anger and the other feeling the pressure of being slammed against the side of the gurney. Tears began to fall from her eyes as she winced in pain. She could feel her right cheek was on fire. Olaf wiped her saliva from his face as he grabbed Violet’s face in his hand and roughly pushed her cheeks in, applying pressure to her jaw. She groaned in pain.

“Stop…” she whimpers.

“Snickets may take care of their own...but Baudelaires are known for betraying and abandoning their own…” he said, applying even more pressure to her face. She tried to pull her head from his grasp. “And I have this feeling that the bookworm is just like his mother in that respect.”

Violet tried to spit at him again. “ Fuck you! You motherfucker!”

Olaf growled once more as he slapped her again, with the same level of strength as before even if this time she was unsuccessful when she tried to spit in his face. She started to cry. She bit her lip to suppress her sobs but the effort was almost pointless when her eyes began to water. Her cheek was definitely on fire now and she was beginning to feel her fear of her situation take over. She watched as Olaf turned and walked over to a small sink that was in the room. He picked up a tray full of medical tools and began to examine the tools.

“Out of curiosity,” Olaf asked, back turned towards a vulnerable and terrified Violet. “Has the bookworm shown you what I’m capable of?”

“You mean how you cut him, you fucking bastard!” she hissed. “Sunny told me.”

Olaf chuckled at that, as he lifted a rather scary looking knife as he examined it thoroughly. Still not even looking at her. “You see, I could do the same thing to you, my darling,” he turned to her as he carried the tray and the scary knife with him back towards her. He placed the tray of tools on top of her. “But...you’re way too pretty for that,” he explains petting her hair once more.

“I’m not your darling, you sick fuck.” she hisses through the tears, fear, and pain. “Klaus and Sunny are going to find me. We’ve outsmarted you every fucking time. We will do it again.”

Olaf grinned as he waved the big, sharp knife around, stroking his finger carefully across it, smiling wickedly at it. “I don’t think you will outsmart me...no, not this time.” he hisses menacingly as he glared down at the helpless girl. Violet glared back at him, her fear being suppressed once more as she continually reminded herself why she had to survive this. “Have you ever hunted, Violet?”

“Of course not,” she spat back.

“Well…” he said as he put down the large knife on the tray. “If you had, you’d be familiar with a particular experience. There’s a particular moment, at the end of a long hunt, ” he explained coldly as he picked up a rather scary drill. Violet, being only fourteen and never going to med-school wasn’t completely certain what this device in Olaf’s hand was but if she had to guess it was probably to drill small holes in the skull to help neurosurgeons perform their operations. As he spoke, he used a tone that sent several chills down her spine causing her to shift uncomfortably and breathe heavily. “When you have the animal cornered. And the animal looks into your eyes... deep into them, to see if there’s any mercy in there.” She looked at the device with uncertainty and fear as Olaf turned it on. The man looked from her to the drill, smiling as he imagined using it on one of the children. “And when it sees that there is not…” he turned the drill off and smiled at it happily. “... it gives up...it gives it life to you. ”

He smiled wickedly at her as he placed the drill back on the tray that still laid on top of her. She could no longer help it, she was trembling as he spoke. He stroked her now severely bruised cheek as she felt tears springing in her eyes. “Well, I have you cornered, Violet, and I have no mercy .”

Tears began to fall from Violet’s eyes as her fear took over. Is this how Klaus feels like? She wondered as she tried her best to hold it in. But this was all too much. His tone, his words, his touch. She couldn’t take it anymore.

He smiled viciously as he wiped a tear from her bruised cheek. “Don’t cry…” he cooed. “Sooner or later the Baudelaires will fall into my trap and when they do…”

Violet’s tear-filled eyes glared at the villain as he mentioned her siblings again. She shook her head defiantly, unable to speak because she was using most of her energy trying to hold back her tears. He gripped the railing to the gurney harshly as he knelt closer to her menacingly. He got in her face as close as he could get, even after she had shrunk herself down as far as her head would sink into the single pillow that held her head up. She grimaced and winced at how extremely uncomfortable she felt with Olaf that close to her face. She wanted to spit in his face again but the intense heat she could still feel from her right cheek convinced her otherwise. Instead, she stared back at Olaf with a face full of mainly fear with a splash of anger and defiance. “And when they do…” he reiterated getting even closer to her face. Violet held her breath as he spoke due to how close he was to her. She could smell his rancid breath. She tried to turn her head so she didn’t have to look at him but he caught her throat with his hand and applied pressure to keep her head in place. “I won’t be satisfied with just your fortunes. This time, I will obliterate you and the entire Baudelaire line in the cruelest ways imaginable…” he hissed into her ear as he held her down. Her breathing became rapid and her fear spiked entirely. “Now won’t that be fun?!” he asked her in a patronizing tone as he gave her an open-mouthed grin, showing off his disgustingly dirty teeth.

Violet’s breathing became heavy as she gasped for air the moment he lifted his face even an inch away from hers. By the look on Olaf’s face, Violet knew that he knew that he was terrifying her.

“...l-leave them alone!” she cried struggling as Olaf removed his hand from her throat. “You have me!” she reasoned, her voice thick with fear. “I can get you both fortunes! Just leave Klaus and Sunny alone!”

He snickered. “I do have you…” he said smiling. “And what a treat that is,”

Violet trembled and began to struggle when she felt Olaf’s hand on her lower leg. She shifted uncomfortably. He grins at her, again, his hand trailing up to her knee agonizingly slow. Violet jerked her leg again. Fear creeping slowly into her eyes, paralyzing her to her core. She felt frozen as she felt his hand stroke her knee. Her heart was beating rapidly as she started screaming for help as Olaf clapped his hand over her mouth. She desperately tried to bite his hand as she tried to break free from her restraints. She looked around the room desperately, her eyes locking on the door. She prayed that someone, anyone, would walk in here soon and stop him before he was to do anything too heinous. He seemed to revel in her fear, probably because he rarely got to see it.

Olaf smirked again when he could see her face full of fear as she unknowingly was looking at him trying to look into his eyes for an ounce of mercy or humanity just as he described in his little speech that was designed to scare her. His smirk widened when he remembered the same look on Klaus’ face back when he first traumatized the young orphan.

He kept his hand at her knee, which was a small relief to Violet but she knew it was not because he had any mercy or humanity, it was merely because he was getting a kick out of her trembling in fear that he wanted to prolong it for as long as he could to further torment the poor girl. And why wouldn’t he? He believed he had all the time in the world. He had his favorite little orphan captured and in his clutches unable to escape or save herself and he severely doubted that Klaus was going to attempt another rescue mission after his first one had ended in his own pain, misery, and blood being spilled. Olaf believed that even if Klaus was brave enough to try to rescue Violet, he would fail miserably and then he would have all three children in his clutches. His to torture in any way that he seemed fit.

He glanced up at the terrified Violet, who looked from him to his hand attentively. Only staring at one or the other for a few seconds before shifting her eyes. She closed her eyes and pushed her head against the gurney as if she were ready to give in. She sighed heavily and as she did, Olaf and even Violet, herself, could hear the tremble in her voice. “...don’t...please don’t hurt them…” she cried, tears once again flowing.

He once again reveled and rejoiced in her misery and fear as he used his free hand to wipe her tears from her eyes again. “Didn’t we talk about crying?” he asked in a tone that was softer than his threats but was far scarier. “ Pretty little orphans shouldn’t cry…”

She jerked her head once more. She felt sick to her stomach with each second that passed by. She stared at the door, pleading within her mind for someone to barge in and stop him before he went too far.

“I mean...I could just keep you...and let them live,” he mused. She groaned depressingly simply because of the way he said it. It didn’t sound like he was contemplating her idea, it sounded like he was planning to use it against her. “But...you’d have to do something for me first,” he explained as he began to lift his grip from her knee. Violet shuddered violently, understanding fully well what he had been implying.

Violet’s eyes widened. “Stop fucking touching me! ” she cried through her sobs, desperately pulling at her wrists and ankles. She needed the restraints to loosen but unfortunately for her, it didn’t seem to be happening.

Olaf smirked down at her as he lifted the large knife. Violet couldn’t tell if the knife was, yet another, scare tactic or if this was really what he was going to do. Merely cut her up. She didn’t know exactly how to feel about that. She stared at the large knife, her breathing becomes rapid.

 No. She told herself as she felt herself shake. He wouldn’t do that to you. He said it himself. You’re too pretty for that.

She involuntarily gagged at her thoughts. On second thought, I’d prefer if he cut me like he did Klaus.  

She looked at the knife fearfully when he set it on her leg, applying slight pressure to it. She froze under his touch, too afraid to continue to struggle because she didn’t want to cut herself. “Oh, Violet.. .I will touch whatever I want. ”

Violet shuddered at both the tone that he used to say that and the double meaning she knew that the statement had. He stroked the knife against her knee with one hand as he lifted his other hand, keeping it above her thigh. Violet had a feeling she knew now why Olaf had wanted her in the hospital gown. As his hand hovered over her thigh, she pulled at her wrists violently ignoring the sharp pain that was affecting her wrists.

“ No,” she cried. She glanced at the door, practically begging with her eyes for the Hook-Handed Man or anyone else to open the door now! As Violet continued to struggle against her restraints, she decided that she’d rather not see what was to happen next. She closed her eyes tight as the door swung open.

“Boss! Boss! Come quick!” The Hook-Handed Man cried urgently.

Olaf groaned loudly as he dropped the large knife on the tray filled with medical tools that still laid on top of Violet. “Can’t you see that I’m busy with my pet?” he asked stroking Violet’s hair.

Violet whimpered and tried to move her head as she watched the henchman slightly shudder.

“This better be important!” Olaf hissed, turning his body and attention towards his henchman, glaring at him. Violet took this opportunity to lift up her head and quickly scan the tray of tools looking for something sharp to cut her restraints. She glanced around at all the big tools knowing full well that she couldn’t take one of those because she needed to be conspicuous. Her eyes locked on a scalpel that was laying at the edge of the tray. She quickly glanced up at Olaf, who was still distracted by his henchman and she quietly reached for the scalpel. She looked up at the henchman to see if he was watching her, but he seemed to be focused on something else. She carefully took the scalpel from the tray and cautiously hid it under her body.

“We just found the other brats!” The Hook-Handed Man reported.

“What?!” Olaf cried excitedly, his eyes widening and shining with pure happiness.

Violet’s eyes widened for an entirely different reason. “ NO!” she screamed. Her struggling became a bit harsher as she groaned and winced from the pain that was going through her wrists. “ Please!”

“The others are in pursuit right now,” he explained. “But we need your help catching them, sir.”

Olaf groaned. “Where’s Esme?” he asked. “She caught this pretty little thing for me...why can’t she catch the other two?”

“She’s busy doing her own thing,” the henchman replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Must I do everything myself?” he asks as he glares at his henchman.

Olaf growls knowing damn well that that meant Esme was more focused on getting her damn sugar bowl than getting him the remaining two orphans. That would explain why she hadn’t followed him into Violet’s room. Olaf turned from his henchperson back to Violet. He placed a cold hand on her bruised cheek. “Maybe our fun should wait until I have those pesky Baudelaires.” he hissed as he caressed her cheek. She shudders under his touch, he could hear her whimpers.

“ Please! Leave them alone!” Violet pleads, choking on her tears. “ They’re all I have!”  She began to harshly pull at her restraints careful not to move too much where the scalpel could be seen or where she’d accidentally bump it off her gurney. She grunted and groaned in pain as she twisted her wrists and ankles this way and that.

Olaf smirked widens as he watches her. He takes the tray from where it laid on top of her and placed it back on the counter that was far from where her gurney was parked.

He turned to her and viciously hissed, “Oh, Violet. You have nothing.” he lifted up the big knife as he examined it again. He turned to his henchman. “Do you think this is sharper than your hooks?”

The man shrugged in response. “Actually, the duller the weapon the better. The more pressure that needs to be applied." Olaf muttered to himself loud enough for Violet to hear. “Hmmmm...maybe we can use this drill on the little baby,” he said lifting up the drill and turning it on once more. "What do you think, pet?"

This time the sound it produced made Violet’s ears and heart ache. She didn’t care imagining it being used on her but to be used on Sunny...she couldn’t bear it.

“ Please! You have me! You don’t need to harm them anymore!”

He walks back to her as he glances down at her. “Don’t worry, pet, I’ll allow you to see them one last time. ” The words hit Violet to her core as her heart was beating too fast. She tried to look into Olaf’s viciously shiny eyes for mercy but he was right, there was absolutely none especially when it came to her siblings. “I mean, how else could you witness their demise?”

“ Olaf! Please! No!” She cries. Her tone a mix of anger and desperation.

Olaf pats her on the head. “A fake doctor’s work is never done.” he shrugged his shoulders as he began to walk out. “Oh, and I wouldn’t bother screaming...in a hospital...screams are perfectly normal. Am I right?” He gestured around as if to tell Violet that no one had come to her rescue and the only reason he was leaving her right now was to go catch her siblings. “It seems like your self-sacrifice was for nothing. You just made them easier targets to catch.”

“ You listen to me you piece of fucking dog shit! Don’t you dare touch Klaus or Sunny!” Violet cried desperately. Her anger taking the forefront of her mindset. “ When I get out of these restraints, I will make you pay for everything you’ve done to them! And everything you try to do to them!”

He laughed at Violet’s threats as he walked back towards the door to follow his henchman, he stopped at the tray and lifted the big, sharp knife once more. “On second thought, this will be perfect for subduing those brats. They’ll both be shaking to their cores at the mere sight of this and then we’ll snatch them,” he explained cruelly to Violet. “Let’s go, Hooky.”

“ No...no...you can’t! Please!” She struggled violently. Her desperation and anger were fighting for the forefront of her mind. “ If you harm them...I will fucking kill you! You hear me! I will end you so quickly if you even dare touch even a hair on either one of their heads!”

Olaf put his hand up in the air and waved at Violet tauntingly. “ I’m so scared.” He mocked as he began to laugh maniacally. “ Don’t worry, my pretty little pet, I’ll be right back.”

Before she could respond, he closed the door behind him and his henchman.

“ No!” she shrieked. “ You don’t need them! You have me!”

But she didn’t get a response...not a single response. Her fear had her paralyzed. She had just had a really close call with Olaf and now the only reason she was relatively safer than she was just mere moments ago was that Olaf had left to chase after her siblings, who have apparently been spotted in the hospital. Violet knew she had to get to her siblings before Olaf and his troupe could. So as she reached her fingers to the scalpel that she had stolen from Olaf, she maneuvered the tool at the perfect angle and with her right hand, she began to desperately cut at her restraints. Glancing at the door, looking for anyone’s approaching shadows. She only hoped that everyone in Olaf’s troupe was focused on literally chasing down Klaus and Sunny only because she knew that if everyone was focused on them that means no one was paying her any attention whatsoever and that’s exactly the kind of distraction she needed to escape from Olaf’s clutches.

As she cut through her first restraint, Violet knew she had to find Klaus and Sunny before Olaf could.

[dippedanddripped]

In his 2018 skit on Supreme, Hasan Minaj, the patron comic of hype culture, said, “Without objects that make me stand out, what am I? Then I just have to be myself, and that’s terrifying, because I am insecure and I need things to make me feel better about myself.” In a couple of sentences, he deftly drilled to the core of the fuccboi psyche: a deep-seated insecurity about one’s own worth and an equally deep-seated desire to prove that worth to others.

Both the clinical and the cultural term for this state is Narcissism.

Narcissism is often confused with egotism or mere selfishness, but while it may contain elements of both, it’s driven not by an outsized sense of self-respect but by self-loathing, which leads to inexorable desire and strife for approval from others. “It’s a very insecure personality, and all the stuff on the outside – the grandiosity, the arrogance, the entitlement – is a suit of armor to buttress a weak interior core, because on the subconscious level narcissists think that others will see that they are not all that,” Dr. Ramani Durvasula, a best-selling author and an expert on narcissism, told me.

Narcissism is nothing new, but the level of narcissism on display in our culture is unprecedented – Dr. Ramani calls it the disease of our time. In his prophetic 1979 bestseller The Culture of Narcissism, the sociologist Christopher Lasch dissected a milieu of mass media that gave more and more coverage to celebrities, narcissistic role models whose behavior was increasingly beginning to be condoned, excused, and explained away. He blamed the rise of the narcissistic personality on “proliferation of images” and “the cult of consumption,” among other things. Fast-forward to 2020, and 1979 looks positively quaint in the age of social media, for there is no bigger driving engine of narcissism than social media platforms such as Instagram.

In the decade since its launch, much has been said about how Instagram has democratized media, but it simultaneously open-sourced Narcissism that was formerly reserved for a celebrity elite. Today, with the rise of Gen Z, this tendency reaches another dimension on TikTok. “Everybody on the app has some form of narcissism,” TikTokker Liv Huffman told Highsnobiety in our special zine about the platform’s stars. “You kind of have to in order to put yourself on the Internet like that.”

Having unleashed the technological means of disseminating narcissism with the one hand, contemporary culture has continued to manufacture models for narcissistic behavior in ever increasing numbers with the other. Contemporary pop music is filled to the brim with rappers whose lyrics are all about the display of their possessions. What began as a legitimate hip-hop lyrical device for expressing a sense of pride in lifting oneself up by attaining markers of American success previously possessed only by its white ruling class, has by now devolved into an exhibitionist trope. And just like the generations before them, today’s youth seeks to emulate the behavior of their favorite musicians. Every middle-schooler knows what it means to “flex” and there is no shortage of eleven-year-olds begging their mommies for the next pair of Travis Scott Dunks.

Hype culture is uniquely positioned to tap into the narcissistic world order by creating artificial scarcity and equating the possession of limited edition goods with self-worth. Conspicuous consumption is the defining consumer behavior of the day, but underneath its hood purrs the motor of narcissism turbocharged by a culture that has given us Donald Trump and Kanye West, two narcissists par excellence. Both are incredibly insecure and both – despite being on top of the world – constantly crave adulation and approval of others (West’s narcissism may be further complicated by his alleged bipolar disorder). And both are aided and abetted by their respective fan bases that readily forgive their transgressions thereby enabling them further. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that hip-hop fans seem to be especially tolerant towards narcissistic behavior of musicians, even when it’s misogynistic or generally sadistic.

Before you roll your eyes at my perceived alarmism that Grailed is poisoning the minds of a generation, consider that in this state of affairs no one is innocent. Study after study shows that despite economic progress and general increase in quality of life, members of contemporary society feel more and more unhappy. Other studies show that social media, Instagram in particular, have a negative effect on self-esteem that stems from the permeating feeling of anxiety and envy. Simply put, you can flex all you want, but there will always be someone with a bigger flex. And once you are on the hype treadmill, its very nature makes it hard to get off.

“In [the hype] world narcissists festoon themselves with the latest sneakers, or the latest streetwear, and in that moment they are safe. But then that moment when the world is telling you that you are great, which for the narcissist is better than drugs, is gone and you continue chasing the high,” said Dr. Ramani. On top of this, the culture of narcissism makes one feel inadequate for not owning something. “The entire way fashion is marketed is that if you don’t have that latest something, you are lacking,” continued Dr. Ramani.

Likes don’t make you happy. Not only that, it increasingly seems that possessions in themselves don’t make you happy either, as evidenced by rampant reselling in the streetwear world. Hypebeasts no longer seem to be able to experience the gratifying sense of ownership that comes with purchasing something meaningful and actually keeping it. Resell culture itself is a product of narcissism, because each sale subsidizes the next purchase and creates the social media illusion that one owns more than one actually does. This practice strips the product down only to being fodder for a fit pic, and essentially creates a short-term rental culture driven by Instagram and Stockx. As Lasch put it, late capitalism “subordinates possession itself to appearance and measures exchange value as a commodity’s capacity to confer prestige – the illusion of prosperity and well-being.”

The antidote to narcissism is authenticity, which is a deeper sense of self that provides an anchoring of one’s character that doesn’t change with trends. In matters of taste, authenticity also furnishes one with a clear sense of style. Authenticity forms over time through a series of experiences and experimentations, which is why we probably see the new fashion fans bought forth by hype culture getting younger and younger.

As productive conversations about mental health grow, so too are we now coming to terms with how we as a society are less and less happy. Narcissism has a large role to play here. As our sense of self-gratification keeps on infinitely expanding, our capacity to form lasting, meaningful relationships with other humans is degrading. The millennial marketing world’s incessant calls to “live your best life” are misguided in pegging our sense of self-worth to wrong types of rewards, fleeting and material. Underneath all the talk about inspiration, community, and culture sits a basic set of transactional relationships, whose real message is not “love yourself,” but “treat yourself.”

When Covid-19 hit, some predicted a return to a more substantive world, in which our collective narcissistic drive would be diminished. In fact, in a study done by Highsnobiety in the wake of the shelter in place orders, the readers interviewed overwhelmingly denounced their interest in logos and other markers of conspicuous consumption, instead claiming a newfound interest in minimalism and quality-oriented purchase decisions. Two-thirds of those polled that they actively felt bad about flexing outwardly with their purchases during a time when millions were tightening their belts.

However, long-term this could be more wishful thinking rather than a real change, and we continue to see the same pre-Covid behavior with each hyped release. Less than two weeks ago the new Off-White x Jordan drop caused yet another mad dash. The Atlanta streetwear store Wish received over 60,000 hits to its website within the first couple of seconds after the 10 a.m. scheduled release. Its website crashed, as did the websites of Nike and Off-White. “We would’ve needed servers the size of Coca-Cola’s to handle that much traffic,” said Wish’s representative.

We often talk about streetwear in terms of “the culture.” But in the last decade this term went from describing subcultural movements and their values to excusing run-of-the-mill consumerist behavior. Brands, many of which are the ones screaming loudest about “the culture,” don’t mind this state of affairs at all because it propels the hype bullet train, enriching them along the way. The thing is, happy people are not good for the system. Dr. Ramani sums it up best: “Capitalism would fall apart tomorrow if everyone on the planet was secure in themselves.”

[curtolson]

Liberty University needs full leadership change, not just Jerry Falwell Jr.

About the author: Curt W. Olson is a 1991 graduate of Liberty University, with a degree in communications that launched me into journalism. I thoroughly enjoyed my time at LU and the friendships I developed there remain people with whom I have close contact. I do not live in Lynchburg, VA and have no “inside information.” As a journalist, I have been a reporter and served as Religion Editor, copy editor, Editorial Page Editor, and investigative reporter. I spent about 20 years in journalism. More recently, I have been teaching English at a Christian school in Upstate New York. I am married and have two children.

An Open Letter to the Liberty University family by Curt W. Olson of the LU Class of 1991,

Everyone in the Liberty University family should desire a humble leader in Jerry Falwell Jr. after a certain period of time for his “indefinite leave of absence” that was announced August 7. If he continues being the President and Chancellor, he needs our prayers and Galatians 6:1-5 provides the biblical footprint for restoring someone.

Why wasn't restoring Falwell Jr. identified in the news releases from LU? It’s a glaring omission. The AP reported needing “time with family,” not having someone who will work with him to restore him to being a humble leader and past the issues that  have surfaced over the past decade. The short statements from the Trustees on August 7 leave far more questions than answers and that is unfortunate. That’s a common chorus with this cast. A lack of clarity and transparency will do that.

It is a separate issue whether Jerry Falwell Jr. could emerge as a different leader and those on campus he has made enemies of would suddenly call him “a new man.” Has Falwell Jr. done way too much damage? This is the question that looms over LU as the new academic year begins. 

For many in the LU family, this question has already been asked and answered: There’s too much water that has gone under the proverbial bridge. After all, we now have signs of failure. David French reported in a column on Aug. 9 something is beginning to impact LU’s freshmen applications and transfer students. If you can’t see the obvious correlation, you don’t want to to see it.

Poor judgment

Two events occurred the past three months that created problems. In June, Falwell Jr. said he would wear a face mask only if it looked like the “blackface” that caused problems for Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam. Falwell Jr.’s  effort to mock the governor drove a couple football players to transfer from LU and got him in hot water with African-American LU alumni. What did Falwell Jr. think was going to happen? Then on August 3, an Instagram photo emerged, which was deleted, of Jerry Jr. pictured with a female who was not his wife and his pants were unzipped. The “costume party” was a parody of the Trailer Park Boys. Falwell Jr. explained the beverage in his hand was not alcohol. That did not help Falwell  when he was on a Lynchburg radio show later in the week explaining what happened and sounding as if he was drunk during the interview. This led to the “indefinite leave of absence.” The deleted Instagram photo and the “blackface” face mask displayed a shocking level of poor judgment for a man leading any Christian ministry, let alone the largest Christian university in the world.

Pleasant image

As an alum from the Class of 1991, I understand the emotions we have for our alma mater. “Liberty is training Young Champions for Christ” and “if it is Christian it should be better” are two of the common statements we heard from LU’s founder, Jerry Falwell.  We have this pleasant image of our time there, our friendships we developed, our spiritual growth, and we want a Christian college faithful to biblical teaching and a top-level NCAA sports program. The idea of controversy, chaos, confusion, and lack of certainty is not what we envision for LU.

Harsh reality

It is time, however, to face some harsh facts. Jerry Falwell Jr.’s current leadership is toxic,  with a culture of fear and intimidation that has been felt by multiple faculty members, staff, and students. That just begins the list of grievances that have arisen dating back to around 2012. Aside from the bad judgment from the June and August incidents, we also have the following issues that could serve as the catalyst for Jerry Falwell Jr.’s dismissal as President and Chancellor. 

They include:

Self-dealing on some real estate transactions;

Self-dealing on some of the construction projects to benefit friends;

Harming the reputation of Liberty University through real estate ventures and other incidents;

Displaying a lack of justice and mercy with many faculty and editors of The Liberty Champion; 

Having a faculty member who had a muddied position on homosexuality; and 

Neglecting his role in setting the spiritual direction of the campus. 

While these would be the key indictments to compel LU Trustees to terminate Falwell Jr., in addition to the outrageous poor judgment that harms the reputation of Liberty University, these may not be a complete list of the issues. These are the known issues through prominent reporting by various entities.

‘Fake news’

I want to address the reporting by POLITICO’s Brandon Ambrosino, Reuters, a column by Will Young in the Washington Post, and others because we live at a time of the common refrain of “fake news.” It puts folks in the position of screaming “fake news,” that while perhaps the information is true, people refuse to accept anything regarded as “bad” to their tribe. Every sentence of reporting by the sources above that resembles the truth opens up a series of brand new questions for Jerry Falwell Jr., and in some cases, the LU Board of Trustees. Perhaps both of those scenarios are long overdue, and the LU family should be demanding answers to those new questions.

Additionally, Ambrosino has admitted to being a homosexual and was one at LU. His sex life has no bearing on his ability to report truth. Anyone who uses that as an excuse to distrust the information he reports has a “see-no-evil, hear-no-evil, speak-no-evil” mindset when there’s a five-alarm fire unfolding at Liberty University. 

There are many good things happening at LU, but they are happening in spite of Jerry Jr., not because of him. 

Real estate deals 

Reuters reported in August 2019 on a real estate transaction with a gym owner in Lynchburg, VA

It reported: “In 2016, Falwell signed a real estate deal transferring the sports facility, complete with tennis courts and a fitness center owned by Liberty, to Crosswhite. Under the terms, Crosswhite wasn’t required to put any of his own money down toward the purchase price, a confidential sales contract obtained by Reuters shows.

“Liberty committed nearly $650,000 up front to lease back tennis courts from Crosswhite at the site for nine years. The school also offered Crosswhite financing, at a low 3% interest rate, to cover the rest of the $1.2 million transaction, the contract shows.” 

A real mess

Less than two weeks later, Ambrosino wrote a damaging piece in POLITICO that detailed the self-dealing, building contracts going to friends, his autocratic leadership of fear and intimidation, and activities that would only harm the reputation of LU. Those activities include:  Donald Trump attorney Michael Cohen dealing with racy personal photos, a Falwell appearance at a Miami nightclub, with photos he wanted to keep from becoming public, and the notorious Miami South Beach hostel with a seedy reputation that was owned by Trey Falwell, Jerry Jr.’s son. There are numerous things to be outraged by in Ambrosino’s lengthy report (the full article being the second comment in this FB post). When I read it for the first time a year ago some things surprised and shocked, and other things just confirmed things that I had been hearing. I know people--they will not be named--who work or had worked at LU in various capacities. They grew increasingly alarmed by Jerry Jr.’s autocratic leadership style, which I challenge anyone to make the case is condoned in Scripture. I had read Ambrosino’s previous report on the Miami area hostel, so nothing would shock me about things that Jerry Falwell Jr. did. As an alum, I was more hurt about what his actions were doing to the reputation of LU. Jerry settled a lawsuit in Miami related to that property.

The revelation that bothered me the most from Ambrosino’s September 2019 POLITICO report was the apparent lack of any, or at least sufficient, oversight of major construction on the campus. What follows is an excerpt of Ambtrosino’s reporting:

 “At the outset, some in Falwell’s inner circle were not so confident in the arrangement with (Robert) Moon. Before his CMA Inc. (Construction Management Associates Inc.) became Liberty’s go-to contractor, the school bid out its construction work through an office on campus. (‘Free enterprise tends to do pretty well,’ one high-ranking university official said.) The prospect of changing that—giving CMA control over campus construction and its associated costs—rankled some senior university officials.

“Early on in the CMA partnership, before CMA became the university’s single-largest contractor, Charles Spence, the school’s then-vice president of planning and construction, expressed unease about the high costs Moon was quoting for certain school projects. ‘Jerry I am very concerned about cost control on all the projects,’ he wrote to Falwell in a November 2014 email. ‘[Over the last couple of weeks we have had a lot of meetings and conversations on cost and cost overruns. We are just seeing the information begin to trickle in and there really don’t seem to be good answers just a response that the cost we are seeing are fair, and being handled appropriately.’ ‘I hope that I am over reacting,’ Spence continued, ‘but I assure you I am concerned.’

“ ‘I am fine with going back to bidding every project out if CMA can’t run with the big dogs!’ Falwell replied. ‘Let’s hold their feet to the fire!’

“In each of the two years that followed, Liberty paid CMA more than $62 million, part of at least $138 million in contracts from Liberty since the company was formed, according to publicly available tax documents.

“Senior Liberty officials might whisper about the propriety of these business deals, but they told me that Falwell’s decisions on campus are rarely ever challenged by the school’s board of trustees. ‘There’s no accountability,’ a former high-ranking university officer said. ‘Jerry’s got pretty free reign to wheel and deal professionally and personally. The board will approve an annual budget, but beyond that … he doesn’t go to the board to get approval. … It simply doesn’t happen.’ “

Trustees a problem too

You read that right. Jerry Falwell Jr. not only has a family friend as the assigned contractor of capital projects, but few, if any, of them have gone to the LU Board of Trustees for review. The Trustees pass an annual budget and that’s about it. These revelations open up a litany of questions for both Jerry Falwell Jr. and the Trustees on their financial stewardship of Liberty University. 

It also creates the issue of whether LU’s leadership needs wholesale change--at President/Chancellor and Board of Trustees. Consider the following for the Trustees: Isn’t it the responsibility of the Board of Trustees to make sure the President is doing the right thing for and by the university?  If Trustees were doing their job, this should never have come this far.  Since they have now done something, why did they do it now? Are they too embarrassed by repeated Falwell Jr. revelations? What took them so long to come to their collective senses?

In November 2019, Michael Poliakoff of the American Council of Trustees and Alumni chastised LU Trustees in Forbes.  He wrote the following: “And Liberty University has serious problems that could benefit from more board oversight. Although Liberty has increased its endowment exponentially under Falwell and has built a massive online degree program, this expansion has come at a cost: According to HowCollegesSpendMoney.com, Liberty spends 86 cents on administration for every dollar it spends on instruction, roughly three times as much as its self-selected peer institutions. Has the board demanded a thorough audit and review?”

Issues stemming from the Trustees are simply added to the overall picture of Liberty University’s leadership. If you can’t see that something’s amiss, you have to be blind.

‘Culture of fear’

Meanwhile in July 2019, former Liberty Champion editor Will Young wrote a lengthy column in the Washington Post titled, “Inside Liberty University’s ‘culture of fear.’ ” Young’s column outlined numerous stories that gained scrutiny upon Jerry Jr.’s endorsement of Donald Trump in 2016.  He explained multiple events over a couple of years where the editors were constantly second-guessed and looking over their shoulder of what would offend Falwell’s political sensitivities. After Champion coverage of the Red Letter Christians event in Lynchburg, the student-led, directed, and written newspaper since 1983 had two editors fired from their positions in a complete reorganization of The Liberty Champion. It was a shocking turn of events.

This has always been a tension with The Liberty Champion. In my three years writing or serving in an editorial capacity, two years as the News Editor in 1989-90 and 1990-91, invariably, the faculty adviser, and for us it was Ann Wharton, would use a teachable moment to talk about boundaries that can’t be crossed. But we never, ever had a pattern of being second guessed or looking over our shoulder that Young outlined in his column.

The culture of fear that has developed under Falwell Jr.’s leadership “is a thing” as kids like to say. At some point, folks must draw the conclusion where there’s smoke there’s fire. 

Spiritual issues

Lastly, we have a couple of spiritual issues. Karen Swallow Prior was a long-time English professor at Liberty University before recently joining Southeastern Baptist Seminary. I read an interview Prior had with Julie Roys. Prior talks about her affirmation of the biblical definition of marriage. However, she has had some connections with a couple of conferences, including Revoice, that could lead one to draw a different conclusion. The Revoice conference has advocated that same-sex attraction is alright as long as the folks involved remain celibate. All one can do is take Prior at her word, even though that leads to some muddy water. If LU allowed her to remain as a professor for numerous years, one can’t help but wonder how many other professors snuck in under poor vetting that do not hold biblical views on any number of issues. Folks would say the slippery slope argument is a logical fallacy. The slippery slopes in American culture we were told to not be concerned about, are now issues we are concerned about.

Then, one pairs that with Falwell Jr.’s own tweet where he underscored that his responsibility is not the spiritual direction of the campus. Yet, if one goes to the Leadership page at liberty.edu there are Doctrinal and Mission/Purpose statements that have clear spiritual focus, and a photo of Jerry Falwell Jr. is there with those tabbed links on the left side of the page. So which is it? Does he have any responsibility for spiritual direction of the university, or does he not have that responsibility?

Dr. John Maxwell has said, “Everything rises and falls on leadership.” With certain aspects of enrollment trending downward, it would appear that some parents are voting with their wallets. How much longer are Trustees willing to go with Falwell Jr.? There’s much at stake in the answer to that question. It’s a question that demands answers and full transparency with the entire Liberty University family.

The best-case scenario is Jerry Falwell Jr. resigns on his own and most, if not all, of the Trustees follow him. It would be the right thing to do. And for heaven’s sake, bring Mark DeMoss back.

[daesungindistress]

1) Different anon here, but there's also that humiliating punishment he was made to endure by standing outside naked. Don't think that can be explained by cultural differences since his neighbour was shocked and tried to help him. After telling that story at D-na, he kinda laughed it off and said he was drained of energy now and wanted to go home. In BB pre-debut documentary, he told a story of being quite young, complaining about some side dishes and his dad punished him by not allowing him to

eat for 3 days. I’m sorry, but so much of what Daesung has revealed over the years about his upbringing is disturbing and sad. It’s what has made me think that his humility and tendency to be easily scared/startled probably didn’t stem from the best circumstances. Also concerns me that he recently revealed that he thinks he would be a strict father bc of how he was brought up - I hope that doesn’t include the kind of pain and humiliation that was inflicted upon him as a child.

Thanks for writing. I’m just gonna go ahead and put my entire reply under a cut, to save dashes everywhere.

I’m glad you mentioned cultural differences. Because I was talking to another tumblr user some time ago about Daesung’s punishment where he was made to stand outside naked, and as much as it pains me to think about, I just couldn’t bring myself to condemn his father for it and, say, start screaming abuse. I definitely don’t like it and do find it disturbing, but even so, I can’t help wondering… though it seems extreme to me, could this perhaps be a matter of perspective? (Although, yes, his neighbor’s reaction might be a big red flag.)

Asian parents are notoriously strict. For example: one of my good friends is Chinese, born and raised in China until moving to the US at 10 years old, and based on some stories she’s shared with me… sometimes things are just… different over there. Right, China is not Korea, but still. Somehow, about a month ago, while with a group of friends, we all got to talking about our parents’ varying levels of strictness with us growing up. She told us of a time she almost got caught in a lie in high school for a fairly minor thing; said her life “flashed before her eyes,” and went on to explain how that’s not just an expression, that it really, truly felt that way. This was coming from someone not easily rattled.

At the risk of getting long-winded, let me explain that last bit. Back in college (which is where we met and became roommates), while visiting her parents for the weekend, their house was burglarized. She was there alone and the men who broke in tied her up and left her on the bed while they took what they could. She said one of them peeked under her skirt and asked how old she was, but otherwise left her alone (she told them she was… I don’t remember the exact age, but made herself out to be a minor, which she most definitely was not. Smart though). We met up at a pizza joint a few days later so she could tell me about it, and I’ll never forget sitting there across the table from her like, “…WHAT?!” I asked her if she was okay, surprised by her nonchalance over it all, and she just shrugged and said, well, yeah, and as far as I can tell it’s never really bothered her since.

Anyway… this is why that recent comment she made about how she feared her parents in her formative years really surprised me, knowing that she’s not easily shaken, and makes me a bit less inclined to think too hard on Daesung’s accounts of how his own parents chose to “scold” him (using his word). FWIW, my friend and her parents have a good relationship today; she meets them for lunch/dinner from time to time and speaks well of them… although she did say that if she were to live with her parents again she would still have a curfew– at 28 years old!

Look, I don’t like it either, these stories Daesung is sharing with us about how his father disciplined him as a child. I would never condone sending any child outside naked to humiliate them for some wrong committed. In a scenario like that I absolutely would have been the neighbor covering him up and ushering him inside. “Beating” him daily, whatever that means, also sounds bad for sure… though I’d like to know exactly what was meant by that since “beat” may have been the fan’s word for it, not Daesung’s. Semantics are important. (And keep in mind he’s speaking in Japanese, not his mother tongue; it’s possible something was lost in translation: from Korean->Japanese->English.) Lastly, while I understand sending a child to bed without dinner for being a picky eater, withholding meals for 3 days is way overdoing it (thanks for sharing, I hadn’t heard that). God, and to think I just reblogged a post a few days ago about how Daesung is “always looking forward to eating”… The thought of him suffering from hunger, of all things, hits me really hard. :(

Also like you, this is giving me second thoughts about how readily he submits to authority. Being well-mannered and respectful isn’t a bad thing at all, quite the contrary! But it’s terribly sad to think that this might have come about as a result of his father quite literally beating it into him. And how he scares when something comes at him suddenly… I’ve known people (my childhood best friend) who were easily startled seemingly for no particular reason, and I’ve always assumed Daesung’s case was the same, but after hearing these snippets I can’t help wondering. It is disturbing. It is sad.

However… the fact that he’s sharing these things so openly, on stage in front of hundreds (is that right? I don’t know how many are attending these smaller shows) gives me this nagging suspicion that these kinds of punishments might not be all that out of the ordinary where he’s from (coming back around to cultural differences). It’s possible that he’s doing so with the expectation that the fans in the audience, being almost entirely Japanese, are going to nod along with a kind of “been there, done that” mentality.After all, this is Daesung, who prefers to keep his thoughts and worries to himself and goes out of his way to avoid burdening others with his problems. D na Show is supposed to be a fun environment; I struggle to picture him revealing these things if he thought they would shock and appall, or deemed them too serious for such a setting. So for now I’m sort of… reading, frowning, filing it away, and moving on.

That said, I too am just a little concerned about his comments regarding being a “strict” father; it depends on what he means by that. It’s incredibly difficult for me to imagine him doling out such punishments, but if it’s how he was raised and it’s all he knows… maybe it’s not too far-fetched. At the same time, it’s not really any of my business how he chooses to raise his future kids. Anyway, that other tumblr user I talked with about this, she said something that I thought was beautiful and sad and hopeful all at once, and even though I still hesitate to use the term abuse I’d like to repeat her words here: “The abuse doesn’t always repeat itself. Sometimes it just chips away at love and trust.”

I know this has been all over the place so I’m gonna wrap it up, but if there’s one positive thing to come of this, it’s seeing Daesung’s courage and resilience made evident like never before. The fact that he was able to essentially defy his father’s wishes, not just risking his disapproval but actively working against it, now knowing more about how authoritative and intimidating he could be… Becoming a successful idol/singer in spite of doubts (his own, his father’s, and those of everyone else who didn’t think he had what it took)… is, I think, a testament to just how strong a person he really is.

(Editing to add: anyone who grew up in an Asian household, please feel free to write me to help shed some light on whether Daesung’s comments about his upbringing seem culturally “normal” or not. I’d hate to find that I’m being totally ignorant about this.)

[0writerchick0]

Job Offer

(Also on AO3)

Gregor ‘The Mountain’ Clegane sat with his legs spread on the shitty rebar bench, set in concrete. There would be no lifting it, no throwing, or bashing with it. The concrete was poured around it with the thought of men like him. Thank the devil for that. Commissioner Stannis Baratheon adjusted his tie, more so he could take a deep breath. Though, for appearances sake, it was to straighten his attire.

They said the man raped a woman to death and killed her children as well, all under the Lannister order. Bullshit. Had to be. Stannis had known Jaime Lannister. He was a cocky shit, dead set against anyone blessed with the name Baratheon. That didn’t mean he would condone such carnage on an innocent woman and her children.

If only Jaime was the only Lannister with authority. What might have Cersei done if she felt threatened by someone else? Stannis closed his eyes and shuddered at the memory of burning flesh and bloodshed. Tyrion was no innocent, either. He was the family mastermind, though often dismissed for making too much sense. What underhanded deals had the little man gotten up to? If the charges were true, the fact that Gregor Clegane was up for parole at all, said the little man had worked quite a bit of his magic.

Stannis watched The Mountain crack his knuckles before guiding a much younger–meeker man to his knees before him. “That will be enough,” Stannis called over his shoulder to one of the guards, stopping the act of dominance before it got too far. “Bring him in.”

It took less than ten minutes, though it might as well have been double that. Stannis tried not to pace, reminding himself that his position alone allowed him the upper hand. The door swung open and Clegane had to shuffle sideways to get through the archway. The shackles he wore, that every prisoner wore, looked like a child’s set of toy cuffs, compared to the thick wrists and bulging muscles in his forearms. Tattoos of all variety covered him from knuckle to neck, and Stannis was sure that should he fast forward through some of the surveillance footage, he’d see even more tattoos on Clegane’s giant body. What they all meant, Stannis didn’t know, and a part of him wished he’d never find out.

“Do you know who I am?” Stannis asked, and it was a fair question. Gregor Clegane was not known for either his intelligence or a sense of awareness for anything outside of what was tangibly in front of him.

The Mountain nodded once, and so strained was the folding chair under his weight, even the slight movement of his neck had the metal creaking a protest. Stannis made a mental note to switch out the old-school folding chairs for the much safer plastic ones. He eyed Clegane again and then changed his mind; he wasn’t sure the plastic would hold him. A man could die being beaten to death by a metal chair, but he could just as easily die if he were stabbed with sharded plastic from a broken lawn chair.

“Good,” Stannis crossed his arms over his chest and then immediately uncrossed them. It was a defensive posture, and he wasn’t going to give the convict that, regardless of what his thoughts were seconds before. “You’re slotted to get out in just a couple days.”

The Mountain blinked.

Stannis sighed, “The city has changed a lot since you were a free man. What have you heard?”

Clegane did not respond, simply stared back at Stannis as if he was thinking of snapping a limb off and eating it.

Stannis wondered if years of a broken system and a mafia lifestyle created the monster that sat before him, or if this was some genetic thing that could never be corrected. “Right. Well, this may or may not be review for you. But, the Lannisters are extinct. All gone now.” He glanced over at the camera in the corner, disconnected for his special meeting, he was sure of it. Though, just to be prudent, he added, “Organized crime is not something that wealthy families like the Baelishes, support in this city.”

Clegane’s chest rose as he inhaled slowly. His expression did not change, set in stone.

“That’s right: Baelishes. Littlefinger’s got a wife now. And some children. I’m sure you knew that though, seeing as how she has such influence in the northern part of the city, the part your brother had previously.” Stannis spoke carefully, not wanting to say anything specific in such a monitored space. He hoped Clegane was able to get enough neurons firing to understand his meaning.

A low growl emitted from across the table, and Stannis knew he’d gotten the message. He cleared his throat. “Organized crime does not exist in this city, hasn’t for many years.”

Clegane scoffed at that, his rage simmering before it could catch a boil.

Stannis continued undeterred, “So it would be unfortunate for you to get any outdated ideas in your head about what your activities should be when you discharge from this facility.”

Meeting the deadpan-stare that had barely changed since the lumbering man squeezed through the door, Stannis slid a manilla folder towards his side of the table. “Mr. Baelish believes in rehabilitation. He values individuals for their strengths and would like to offer you employment. Your first task will be to relieve this man of his duty.”

The metal chair creaked as Clegane leaned forward, sliding the folder closer and opening it. Stannis glanced away, eyeing the line between sharp and blurry, a marred metal tabletop focused close against the soft background of grungy tile flooring. Stannis didn’t want to see the picture in the folder, didn’t want to know. It wasn’t hard for him to accept it from Varys and tuck it in his briefcase without looking, nor was it difficult to clutch it to himself as he waited for Clegane, never once opening it. The man in that folder was going to die–if Clegane valued his own life.

Stannis had learned long ago, not to notice such things. He would spend too much time watching the news, waiting for a body to turn up that never did. Too many nights, he’d woken up with an image in his head of various men that wouldn’t be seen again. It was like this with the Baelishes, the Lannisters and Tyrells before them, the Cleganes, the Starks and the Arryns. I’m getting too old for this shit, Stannis thought to himself.

He let his hand drop down to the bulge of his wallet in his pocket. She was in there. Shireen. He didn’t need to pull the picture out to see it; he’d studied it a thousand times. It gave him strength both before and after he’d done something less-than-savory for her sake. Each surgery she had, extended her life, and each one after that until they’d been living “just a little longer,” for at least nine years now. He was tired, and knew she was too, but he couldn’t give up, and wouldn’t dare let her.

Stannis took the cash, and handed over the files he never opened. Each day, instead of singing the words to “Cheeseburger in Paradise” while he brushed his teeth, as he was wont to do in the days before Shireen, he rehearsed his public repudiation. “There is no organized crime in this city. There hasn’t been for many years. Certainly, not since I’ve come to office. It’s well established that I have zero tolerance towards this particular issue.”

Clegane closed the folder and shoved it back towards Stannis. His voice was deep and rumbling as he asked, “We done?”

Stannis rose from his seat, waving the guards in. “Mr. Baelish respects how important family is, and therefore sends his condolences about your brother. He also knows how integral employment is to an ex-convict’s successful reintegration into the community, and would like you to please consider the opportunity he’s offering.”

When Clegane stood up, the guards on either arm were so dwarfed that it looked almost comical, the tops of their heads not surpassing his chest. Stannis knew that Varys would want to know if Clegane was going to play ball or not. The Mountain’s stoic nature and overall murderous presentation hid away any response Stannis could have gleaned from their conversation.

Clegane was halfway down the hall when he stopped and asked, “What about a car?”

Stannis stepped forward quickly, his shoes squeaking on the tile as he asked, “Excuse me?”

Clegane turned his head and said, “I’m going to need wheels when I’m out. For work.”

“Of course,” Stannis nodded, taking the liberty to assume Baelish would approve. “So, you accept?”

Clegane cracked his neck, his arms flexing as he did before he answered simply, “My brother was a cunt.”

[aangisdead]

i totally get the excitement as someone who's Vietnamese and grew up w/ a lot of internalized racism largely bc of white media, but isn't it wrong to have a Vietnamese actor play a Korean person? Is it really good representation if it's actively erasing the actual ethnicity of the character (by a Korean author, no less), who should rightly be played by an actor of her actual ethnicity? This isn't an attack or anything, & sorry if this is raining on the parade--just wanted to get your opinion!

no yeah totally great and valid point!! i completely understand everyone’s qualms about having a vietnamese actress playing the role of a korean girl because it does in fact perpetuate the whole notion of “all asians are the same” when really asian americans are comprised of multiple, diverse, and distinct ethnicities, not just one.

(in all honesty, part of me feels like they chose lana because she’s already got a foot in the industry with her role in x-men so she’ll garner more exposure for the movie)

but we are still so far from where we should be in terms of representation in the media that i think the fact that we are getting a teen romantic comedy movie featuring a main asian american cast at all is an incredibly monumental step for asian americans. from my perspective, the asian american community still shares a certain identity, no matter our specific ethnicities, that binds our experiences together.

of course, i’m not trying to equate the cultural experiences of a vietnamese american with those of a korean american (and please let me know if you find any of my opinions offensive) but i feel like we also have to take into account the story being told. lara jean’s story is not about her half-korean identity; it’s about her first love. how i’ve always seen it was that jenny han was trying to prove to the world that asian americans can have modern, everyday love stories too – we’re not some “exotic” group confined to kung fu and manga and period dramas.

we see the characters make that same point too. lara jean has an “asians only” rule when dressing up for halloween (not specifically “koreans only”); margot encourages LJ to join an asian american organization in college (not specifically a korean organization). i think this speaks to the fact that while our cultures may differ, our experiences as asian americans in white america are in fact plenty similar. lara jean may connect with her family and her mom through her distinctly korean roots (as seen with her references to korean food and of course traveling to korea with her sisters and grandmother) but her experiences in everyday life (that pushed her to choose to only dress up as asian characters, for example) pertain to the wider asian american experience.

so yes, acknowledge the issues when it comes to casting a different asian ethnicity for an asian american character, especially when production is made of primarily non-asian people (i think neither the director nor screenwriter is asian?). but also i think it’s important as a community to encourage and support asian american actors in all types of roles because we need white people to realize that our presence in major roles can be successful. the success of asian americans in film and television means more roles will be written for us, which in turn will give asian americans the option to actually choose to play a character of their ethnicity rather than settle for one that’s close enough.

idk i’m sorry if i seem biased in this situation because i am in fact vietnamese and so seeing my favorite book character being played by someone of my ethnicity (one in which it’s rare to find prominent actors) is a kind of special that’s difficult to put into words. i really don’t mean to condone erasing lara jean’s korean identity; i just feel like we have so much more out there in the media to fight for as a community that again, it’s important that we support these asian american actors anyway. 

i remember when ki hong lee played a vietnamese character on unbreakable kimmy schmidt and i was furious because ki hong is korean not vietnamese and it felt like once again, hollywood didn’t give a shit about us and just needed an asian dude to fill the (VERY RACIST) role. i also remember that, despite all of that, i was honestly overjoyed that ki hong was essentially a main supporting character of a very popular show. i was so proud to see him on that screen and i knew that the exposure would allow him better opportunities for better roles (and also i just love ki hong in general).

tbh idek what point i was trying to make with this abominably long reply (kudos to you if you read this whole thing lol i just have a lot of feelings about asian american representation). i guess what i’m trying to say is: to my korean friends out there, you are 100% justified in feeling angry about the casting choice, but i’m asking you as a fellow asian american to please consider being supportive anyway of a vietnamese american actress playing the main character of this very important movie

[dukeofriven]

Frisk on the Road to Damascus: A Pseudo-Essay on Converting to Undertale

So 664 days after it was released, and 382 days after I purchased it, I finally, finally, finally beat Undertale.

And... I loved it. Controversial opinion: it’s really good.

But it took me a while to love it. Let me explain, because I’m sure y’all are super interested in me doing so.

I had about five false starts playing Undertale, and all five of those false starts was how fucking irritating I found the sound of Flowey and Toriel’s dialogue. I have a hypersensitivity to sound, especially frequencies, and the sound of Flowey and Toriel’s dialogue is... not pleasant, especially at first aural blush. I got used to it when it when I finally powered through it, but if there were any major changes I would make to Undertale it would be better sound controls - being able to cut the audio down on the dialogue by even 25% would make a big difference to it on an accessibility ability level* ** It was Undertale that first ‘inspired’ me to get Tumblr Saviour - first because I didn’t want to be spoiled by a game I heard was good and wanted to play relatively unspoiled, and later because  I didn’t want to be reminded of the game I was having so much trouble with.

What was it that made me pick up Undertale long enough to get through it? As usual, it was podcasts (there’s a small paper to be written on how podcasts got me interested in pro wrestling, but that’s a whole other story.) The superlatively good Let Me Tell You About Homestuck podcast relaunched a little over a year back (shoutout to excellent co-hosts @yuri-librarian and @betgirl ), and when I found out I dived back in, and in the process rediscovered my love of Homestuck. Homestuck and I had a falling out during the gigapause and Homosuck - at the time it felt like the webcomic’s author was pissed at his own comic and actively self-sabotaging it, and even though I caught up with the comic before the ending I was still disgruntled with it and not willing to engage with it much.

But listening to LMTYAH re-ignited fandom joy within me - a euphoric Road-To-Damascus re-conversion I can only describe as ‘George Bailey coming back to existence at the end of It’s A Wonderful Life.' I gleefully snatched-up the pesterlogs and clutched them to my chest. I waved cheerfully at [S] Descend and [S] Cascade. “Merry Christmas you old mspaintadventures!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as I pelted through the snow to hug my beloved Beta Kid family again.***

You can’t discuss Homestuck anymore without discussing Undertale, which was so clearly fed by Homestuck, which was in turn fed by Undertale, because media is an incestuous slurry. Part of the issues with coming back to the Homestuck dialectic table is that you can’t ignore that big ol’ bowl of Undertale sitting between the roasted trans-media experiments and the mashed potatoes. If, every time that bowl gets passed around, you put your hands over your ears and and scram ‘LA LA LA LA LA I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT’ then the other guests are going to look at you funny and your nearest neighbour is going to conclude that they’d rather sit through that pompous lecture by the vegan on the other side of them after all.

It’s not a great dining experience, is what I am trying to explain with this increasingly overcooked analogy. I wanted to eat with the rest of the guests - I wanted to watch @revolutionaryduelist’s video on Undertale themes and Homesick themes. I want to suck it up, be an adult, and eat like a goddamn grown-up.

So I grit my teeth, grabbed the bowl, and started shovelling large spoonfuls down my throat. I think this is how grown-ups eat right?

I didn’t like the taste at first. What brought me to Undertax more than anything was the idea of the pacifist run. The games that have this as a legit option are few and far between, and some of them (e.g. Dishonoured) get downright nasty about it. Undertake wasn’t nasty about being helpful, but it didn’t make it easy, either.

Some of you may  feel the need to note that ‘the pacifist route isn’t supposed to be easy,’ to which my response would be ‘shove it up your bum you git-gud wankeroos.’ There are two types of ‘hard’ in video games - one of challenge, and one of ability. The excellent puzzle game The Witness doesn’t greatly challenge ability (for sighted people, at least) - by and large almost all of its puzzles just involve drawing a line. The Witness is hard because the puzzle are so tortuously, mind-bindingly challenging. By contrast, a platform like VVVVVV doesn’t preset much mental challenge - it barely has anything like a puzzle that I can remember, but in terms of ability it requires lightening-fast reflexes and great timing (Somehow I beat that game -I still don’t know how).

Undertale is not a hard-challenge game, it is a hard-ability game, and I flat-out suck at its bullet hell mechanics. All my frustrations with the game were met at the bullet board - if I could make one other major change to the game it would be slightly improving the speed of the heart cursor. Time and time again I violently cursed because I had just missed getting out of the way of something with a cursor I found sluggish and unresponsive, as though my keyboard was laggy. A poor skill level coupled with what felt like hardware problems made for an increasingly difficult experience, one in which I felt like the game was almost taunting me: “oh, you want to be a good person, huh? Too bad - you lack the skills to be a good person. You’re not going to get through this without resorting to killing, you intrinsically violent, terrible person."

Staying alive through the confrontation with Undyne drained me, and by the time I was on my second iteration of Mettaton being a shitheel I just felt burned-out. The story still felt pretty flat, and wasn’t really drawing me in. The hardest decision I had had to make was at the very beginning of the game - Toriel’s home, and Toriel herself, were so lovely and sweet that I still resented the game for making me have to break her heart. I didn’t want to leave her house, I just wanted to stay and live a nice life with her in the Underground. But no - the game wanted me to have  heroic destiny and shit so fine, guess i’ll go back to the surface I don’t have much interest in seeing. Since leaving Toriel’s house all I had wanted to do was return to that tranquility and warmth, and instead I just got more monsters trying to kill me. The stuff with Papyrus had been very funny, but the game still wasn’t sinking its claws into me - it was a quirky but light RPG, funny, but not funny or deep enough for me to understand why a big bowl of it was sitting at the Homestuck dialectic table other that Toby Fox had worked on both things - which seemed like a weak reason to include it. (Remember the Homestuck dialectic table? That didn’t stop being a thing or anything)

So I walked away again and did other things over several weeks, possibly months. I finally came to terms with the fact that my vision is permanently damaged and got myself a Kindle so I could read again. I read a book on the Apollo programme and took another crack at Bleak House. I watched an episode or two of Lucha Underground, got caught up on The Adventure Zone, and went through every post ever posted on @revolutionaryduelist’s Tumblr. I fantasized about buying a new computer. I told myself to watch the Little Witch Academia TV series and forgot every single time - and so on.

And then I watched Car Boys.

Car Boys is one hell of a ride, no pun intended, a strange mishmash of video game fault testing and emergent meta narrative that ends up surprisingly emotional and affecting - and as the credits rolled I made the always unwise decision to wander down into the Youtube comments, where I discovered the fun ‘Car Boys is just like Homestuck’ argument which, natch, led me back to thinking about Homesick and Video Games - and, ultimately, Undertale.

“Fine,” I told myself, “I guess I’ll beat it, at least to finally have one thing in my over-glutted Steam Library I have actually seen-through to completion.”

So last night I booted up my Steam, made the conscious decision to stop trying to get my just-bought 360 controller to work with Sonic Adventures DX via wine (it keeps crashing), and booted up Undertale.

For a while it was just fine again. I don’t like Alphys, even after beating the game: she reminds me of a lot of shitty people I’ve known in my life, and the story uses her lack of self-confidence as sort of a moé defence - ah, look at how cute she is, isn’t that adorable, she feels bad about what she’s done - without ever actually examining that behaviour in any critical detail. Alphys being an adorkable anime fan and her relationship with Undyne are all great character traits - but it doesn’t make her a good person, and the game never truly calls her to the mat in much the same way that it sort of glosses over Asgore having condoned the murder of six other humans (but he comes into the story so late I find him less of a character and more of a symbol.) Alphys gets a whole ‘trip to the dump/romance role-play’ subplot after being revealed to have deliberately ordered a bunch of monsters to at least make a pretence of killing you in order to make herself look like a hero - and that's before you get to go into her basement and learn the really shitty shit she did with dying monsters' souls. I mean Jesus Christ Alphys how come nobody calls you on this!

But I’m getting ahead of myself. I helped Mettaton’s ratings, left him to be patched upped by Alphys, and made my way to the castle walls - and the writing started to get really good. I loved meeting with Sans and his talk about the true nature of EXP and LOVE, loved walking into the throne room for the first time, loved the moment when I realized Toriel was the Queen-in-Exile - coming upon the New House was genuinely moving… but then I reached Ashore, and it wouldn’t let me TALK to him, and I didn’t like having to fight him after a full pacifist run, and also he was really hard.

So I swallowed my pride a little and googled vague hints for ways to make the fight easier. I learned that yeah, I absolutely had to fight him, and then I went and ground Cloud Glasses back and forth to the Temmie Store to unlock the Temmie Armor and earn the cash to stock-up on my beloved Bisicles. So equipped, I went and fought Asgore for the final time, thus beating this game that everyone raved about for reasons I could not understand.

Then the game ended and suddenly started to get really, really, really good. Much like Homestuck in Act 6, Undertale’s starts pushing the boundaries of games themselves, using save files against you and deliberately crashing the game. Omega Flowey is a goddamn nightmare, a visual headache who rails against you and the concept of friendship, and while he was a frustrating fight for the first time I felt like this was less a reflection of my shitty skills and more a deliberate choice of the part of the game to show what monstrous power he wielded.

As I was sent back into the world, I was eager to go find Undyne. I had to look-up where she lived because I had totally forgotten that her house existed - in fact, I had forgotten Papyrus had ever said anything about meeting up at Undyne’s house, so I never befriended her in my original run. The moment Undertale moved from a game I was starting to enjoy to one I knew I loved was the moment Papyrus leapt out Undyne’s window - late in the process to fall in love with a game? Perhaps, but so it was.

Missing Undone the first time through felt so narratively satisfying to me that it wasn’t until writing this that it occurred to me that it was something that didn’t have to have been missed - the run-in with Undone hardly ends on a high-note: after a miserable shield-fight and a whole lot of fleeing you give her a cup of water and she slinks-off into the night. It wasn’t something that exactly screamed ‘She’s Ready For A Friendship Lesson.’ I kept expecting her to show back up somewhere in New Home Castle for Round 2: Redemption Boogaloo, but it never happened. Then Sans got Anubis on my ass, the King of All Monsters got murdered by a flower and my game crashed on purpose - sort of forgot about her no-show appearance.

So there we were: breaking windows, sipping tea, making the worst goddamn spaghetti it’s ever been my misfortune to make**** and having a wonderful time. Other than my general misgivings about Alphys being let-off way too lightly by the narrative*****, after that first reset Undertale was practically a perfect game for me. The ending made me feel mushy and sappy, the epilogue where you get to pace around and talk to just about everyone felt so unbelievably RIGHT - if you want to head out and make one last personal connection with everyone you’ve ever met, you can pretty-much do that. Ben Croshaw wrote quite elegantly that Undertale represents “the triumph of kindness, reminding people of who they were before tragedy twisted them.”****** That kindness is what makes the game so compelling - what makes reading-up on the Genocide route feel so legitimately horrific and transgressive. It’s going to stick in the back of my mind every time I am needlessly rude to someone, overly sarcastic, or just my usual ‘less kind than I wish I was’ self. Homestuck wallets just went on sale today and I immediately bought one and then felt bad for all the Tumblr posts I saw for worthy causes - I SHOULD GIVE UP ALL MY WORLDLY POSSESSIONS TO THE POOR AND GO PREACH THE GOSPEL OF ACTING WITH MERCY as Undertale teaches.

It’s the kindness that will stick with me - and dear God, reading about the Genocide routes makes me nauseated. I’m the guy who claims that this time his Mass Effect play through will be Renegade and then goes 100% paragon again except for being rude to Anderson (because screw that dill weed - oh, geeze, I have failed Undertale again.)

Anyways, long, convoluted, not-very-coherent opinion: Undertale is a good game. Sorry it took me so long to learn that.

*but if we’re going to talk about accessibility in video games we’ll be here all year: an especially big fuck you to all those games who don’t let you change the font size for all of us with really poor eyesight (which is to say essentially all games).

** And what is it with games being embarrassed to have their text dialogue scroll past without some kind of irritating sounds? Undertale at least uses the noise as a form of expanding character identity, but the world is littered with sprite JRPGs who think dialogue is best accompanied by a garbled, repeating beep.

*** Re-experiencing the comic multiple times gave me so many more insights I never used to have. Revisiting Act Six and Homosuck, especially through @betgirl‘s eyes, I found so much to love. Which there is some serious problems in it (The Dancestors and Abuser Gamzee), there’s so much more joy, depth, and thought then I remember. I don’t know if, at the time, with the broken pacing, it was possible to see the shape of the narrative arc that Andrew Hussie was trying to tell - the deconstruction of the nature of storytelling, video games, and the ‘Problem of Mario.’ It’s really good, you guys, and you do yourself a disservice if you have never read it.

**** Undyne is right, by the way: homemade pasta is unquestionably the best and super easy; its only major flaw is that it’s just time-consuming, especially if you’ve got to hand-crank an antique pasta machine to roll it out. KitchenAid sells a pasta roller attachment for their mixer for an amount that justifies a class uprising all on its own.

***** I’m not some weirdo going ALPHYS MUST BE PUNISHED but Alphys should really, you know, actually apologize for the shit she pulled. Yeah, she says ‘I got scared of my amagalgamtions and cowardly didn’t tell their families about it,’ but not being honest about it is the most insignificant issue here. Much more pressing and things like Experimenting On A Human Soul, Actually Making the Amalgams In The First Place, Setting Up A Bunch Of Death Traps So She Could Insert Herself Into Your Life As A Hero. I can forgive Alphys - I think she is a genuinely good person who made misguided and out-right foolish mistakes and should never have had the job she had (I hear Toriel fires her in one ending which fuck yeah Toriel, only one with sense.) Undertake doesn’t need to re-write a damn thing about Alphys - I would just like one more scene in which Alphys admits culpability for the original problem rather than just an aspect of the fallout.

****** And it should be stressed: Alphys deserves kindness (and a good therapist). I don’t want a kangaroo court or anything like that - my issue is with the narrative, not Alphys personally.

Asgore, though… dude kinda murdered six children? Do people talk about that, because they ought to.