#dr3 criticism

[slutforpringles]

Yeah, it was a strange one the way it played out. To be honest, the more I've spoken to some of the parties involved and the more has kind of emerged, the less clear it's got actually how it's been handled, which I'd like to say is unusual in Formula One. Maybe it's not because people don't always act in F1 with their true intentions upfront. But I think the way you described it as [Daniel] processing it in real time and learning it at the same time as us, I think it's pretty much how it happened. The key thing was that Ricciardo was aware that something was going on. He's not immune to speculation. He tries not to engage with it too much, but obviously either he or the people around him are feeding him the main things. He knew that there was a deadline approaching for a decision, which primarily he thought was all about 2025. The main thing that changed was going into the Singapore weekend, the speculation had intensified that it could be about right now, a change right now. But when they went into the Singapore weekend, I know there's been a few reports and claims and counter claims around this, Helmut Marko, for example, has said that Riccardo did know because Lawson had known for two weeks already. But I don't think that's true. Bear in mind, Marko has been saying at various points this year that it could be Ricciardo's last race … I was on the phone to someone close to Riccardo last week and he joked that 'we've been sacked since April, so this hasn't really come out of the blue', that's what they've been dealing with. But I think what happened was that Ricciardo took control of the narrative over the course of the Singapore weekend. As far as I can understand, the best I can make out, nobody told Riccardo explicitly, this is your last race, we will be replacing you after this. He knew that there was a very, very good chance, probably 99% chance he was losing his drive for Lawson for the following year. And then there started to be more and more noise about it being a change for now. But he had been told during the summer break that he was good for the rest of the season, basically. So I think he was reacting to the speculation. Nobody gave him an absolutely explicit, this is 100% done and we are going to confirm that Lawson's in and you're out. So Riccardo went into the Singapore weekend saying everything he said on the Thursday, which was, you know, I wouldn't bet my house on being here at the end of the year, but that's what I expect. As far as he was aware, it was all about 25, nothing else, blah, blah, blah. But then through the weekend, you saw that change. You know, he was kind of as you said, processing it, the speculation was more intense than ever. Some of the broadcast, like the Sky Sports F1 stuff was very much laying it on thick that they understood this was his last race, etc etc. And I think Riccardo just rolled with that and just went right, Red Bull aren't going to do anything here, they're not actually going to make this official. I need to act like this is my last race weekend because I think this is going to be my last race weekend. And if I don't do it, no one's going to do it for me, which is a really sad way for it to have played out, but it just speaks to how confusing this whole mess has been.

Scott Mitchell Malm discussing how Daniel's Singapore exit was handled by Red Bull and the subsequent false media narratives that have since emerged from various players involved.

via: The Ringer F1 Show

[windcarvedlyre]

While I'm talking about DR3 and its handling of themes, does anyone else feel like danganronpa's ideas of 'hope' and 'despair' became a bit flanderised sometimes?

I could be reaching- the series has always been incredibly hammy in how it uses the terms- but in DR1 they still felt somewhat grounded in the words' actual definitions and in DR2 Komaeda fixating on an abstracted conflict between 'hope' and 'despair' was presented as a bad thing. Thinking 'hope' is synonymous with 'talent' was part of the problem, but even without that he'd feel like an intentional twisted parody of Naegi. He takes the thematic conflict between hope and despair too literally; to him the concepts were less states of mind, more grand causes, and so no amount of suffering became unacceptable to him if it made for a more interesting narrative in the end.

But sometimes later additions to the series... kind of sound like him? Maybe I should revisit DR3 and give it more of a chance, but I felt like the entire narrative approached 'hope' and 'despair' in some of the ways Komaeda does. Like it kept throwing those words at me as a substitute for actual depth, because hey, it's Danganronpa, right? That's what you're here for, right? Especially considering how little interest the writers showed in non-Ultimates besides Hinata as people, making 'hope' feel genuinely associated with talent to some degree.

Similarly, in DRV3, what did it mean for the survivors to reject both hope and despair? Stripped of those words, their choice was to break out of the narrative's control, not let their reality being potentially fake get to them, and face the unknown together. Is that not 'hope'? Is that not emotionally identical to both previous games' endings? Does that not make the game's use of 'hope' completely divorced from its meaning?

If the themes were handled more coherently I could see that being done intentionally- exploring whether the series started with a good message and lost its way, and/or asking whether 'hope' is hollow if your struggles, your eventual triumph over them, everything was contrived for others' entertainment- but I feel like if that was the case the DRV3 characters should reclaim hope and reject false definitions or exploitation of it instead of rejecting hope itself. Because again, with feeling, what does that mean???

[danggirlronpa]

!!! You are SO RIGHT about Sato!!! I'm mixed on human Chiaki, because I do think she had potential—her arc about trying to help Hajime and yet not being enough for him, him choosing his ambitions over her and the idea of being “good enough” for her over what she ACTUALLY wanted had, in my opinion, tremendous potential. I really like characters who explore “people see me as this symbol (of either hope or of talent and success itself for Chiaki) and have an image of me in their heads that isn't actually me” and I also like when it goes further into “people disregard what I actually wanted for what they think I should want” too. I also think that “being a symbol people only see what they want in” idea could have strengthened the parallels between Junko and Chiaki too, which, those parallels were some of the only things I really liked about DR3. I said this in a previous ask (I am! The nanamiki anon as well! Surprise! Sorry for sending you so many asks, aha) but if I was to have human!Chiaki still be a thing, I would have the remnants slowly turn on her due to Junko poisoning their opinions on her, culminating with her death - I think that could have been really interesting.

Another reason I like human!Chiaki is because in SDR2, Chiaki was very much giving me Autistic Vibes (as someone with autism as well) and while I love that for her, I do think that having one of only AI characters be one of the only autistic ones could maybe. Not send the best message. Tbh. But with her being based on a human, it makes sense - she inherited her autism from the human she was based on.

That being said, I also feel like it undercuts the moment in the final chapter that AI Chiaki had with Hajime about not forgetting her… And I also feel like the anime treated human Chiaki as More Important/Real/Valid than AI Chiaki, which is really upsetting as someone who likes AI Chiaki as much as I do. I mentioned in the nanamiki ask that I liked some of the depth DR3 gave to Mikan and Chiaki's relationships, and I stand by that! I think that's also a positive that came from human!Chiaki.

But all things considered, I think there's a lot of cons to having human!Chiaki as well. I totally, totally, totally agree about having Sato be the Ultimate Archer in place of Chiaki! It adds so much to the story - specifically if you keep Natsumi in the reserve course. Hold on, I'm going to go find something I said on the topic in a comment on one of my fics:

“In Twilight Syndrome (and later in DR3 too, I think?) it's said that Sato is in the archery club. I think that her being the Ultimate Archer fits because of that, and I also think that they should have made it so reserve course students *couldn't* join clubs (though that would possibly contradict what is said in DR0, so you'd have to tweak that novel too). That would emphasize how discriminatory HPA is. I also think Sato being an Ultimate and Natsumi not could play a role in emphasizing that, too; let's say HPA did suspect Sato, but did nothing because Sato was an Ultimate and Natsumi wasn't. And then when Fuyuhiko killed Sato, they also suspected him and did nothing, because he was an "even more talented" Ultimate (and the Kuzuryu family probably made a lot of donations to HPA in the past—along with Nagito, probably, too—so they favor them & that's even why they knew about Fuyuhiko and Peko and scouted them in the first place). You could really emphasis HPA's rot and corruption with this, and it would give Fuyuhiko a lot of motive to destroy HPA once Junko comes along. Plus, it would also give her reasons to be friends with the other girls outside of Mahiru, like we see in SDR2. I'm not exactly opposed to Sato being a reserve course student, but I do think there could be a lot of interesting things if she wasn't.”

So, yeah, I totally agree with you about Sato! I definitely acknowledge the potential pros of human!Chiaki, but even at her best I still am conflicted on her, in big part because of Sato. I actually… and sorry for self promoting here, aha, I always feel sort of embarrassed when I do so… have written exactly that scenario- about human!Chiaki not being a thing and being replaced with Sato, and Sato being the Ultimate Archer. That's the case in my Twilight Syndrome Murder Case: A Series Of Character Studies series (first one is tilted girl a and second one is titled girl b, my username is Buttercup_ghost on ao3! None of the others are out yet) which is all about the Twilight Syndrome characters. I love Twilight Syndrome. I'm SO upset about how they handled it in DR3, it had no lasting impact on anyone except arguably Hajime, and! Like! What!!! Plus, the retcon about Mahiru not covering up Sato killing Natsumi… that one hurts the most I think. If she didn't even do that, why did she even die in SDR2?? Plus! I really liked that morally ambiguous element to Mahiru's character! That's probably the Twilight Syndrome retcon I'm most upset about. Though, tbh, the only one I'm overwhelming positive towards (instead of mixed on) would be making Natsumi a reserve course student. I think it added a lot to her character - gave her a level of insecurity, gave her the ability to have a interesting relationship with Hajime and added more dimension to her other relationships as well (Mahiru, Fuyuhiko, Peko), gave her a motive for bullying Mahiru, AND recontextualized Fuyuhiko calling her Ultimate Little Sister (she never had to prove herself… not to him… to him she WAS the Ultimate Little Sis from the start…) in a really sweet way. Tbh? The only DR3 retcon I'm pretty much fully happy with.

But yeah! Sato not having relationships with anyone else on screen except Mahiru from the Twilight girls is such a fucking crime. I want to see!! Her and Mikan!!! Interact!!! What's her and Hiyoko's relationship like too? What about Ibuki and her? I'm SO interested and we get NOTHING :( of course I loved what we got of her and Mahiru, but I want to see her with the other girls too!

Sorry for rambling so much in your in box! I almost reblogged the ask with my additions, but I was afraid you wouldn't get a notification for that so I just decided to send in an ask instead. Figured I would probably have to send an ask alterting you of the reblog, so might as well just send it as an ask, you know?

YEAH a lot of this is so good!! I'm definitely with you. I think real person Chiaki wasn't inherently a bad idea, but that it was executed poorly. I, personally, would have written Chiaki being the very first to go down a violent and brutal path of despair, dragging the others down with her, shown her in her last moments begging one of the THH survivors to forgive her in the afterlife, and retroactively made AI Chiaki into a redemption arc for an evil character the same as the rest of the class. But that's not what this ask is about, so I won't dwell on it too much! Suffice to say that I think they could've done much better with it.

I also REALLY like anime Natsumi. I wish they hadn't made her quite so sympathetic (the whole Twilight Syndrome plot hinges on the belief that she is genuinely planning to murder Mahiru!), but that's from an overarching story perspective; as an individual character, it made me exceptionally more fond of her. And I wish we'd gotten more interactions between her and the main cast, too! For all she seemingly bullied Mahiru they only ever interacted once. Not enough time spent on Twilight Syndrome. Just in general.

And you're DEAD ON about the lost opportunity to highlight Hope's Peak's elitism. The reserve course could've been so much. And they did so little with it. More than anything else, I think the treatment of the Reserve Course is abysmal. I still get so furious when I remember Chisa talking about how much duller the days were working in the Reserve Course and how they remained a bunch of nameless faces while she worked there. Absolutely infuriating. These teenagers didn't deserve a teacher who loved them and called them rotten oranges and told them fun speeches about high school because they weren't ultimates? Abhorrent message about intellectual elitism. Fuck off. And Natsumi's death could've been the PERFECT way to highlight it.

(& for anyone interested, the fic series they're talking about is here!)

[makedamnsvre]

dr3 liveblog. :(

like i knew it was coming but still i dont want to see komada bare ass 😔

[oscarp81astri]

The way I was dismissing sky sports all weekend for spouting those rumours😭😭

[leyacer]

Getting mighty sick of retrospective videos that are over two hours long. I have yet to be convinced anyone actually needed that extra time to adequately make their point

[deadmandairyland]

If you were wondering about my thoughts on RWBY Volume 9 Chapter 8, here is a RWBY tier list I did a while back.

Needless to say I enjoyed this episode of RWBY a lot.

[slutforpringles]

"The most likely outcome would be promoting Ricciardo into the Red Bull alongside Verstappen for the second half of the season..."

via: Red Bull conduct private Silverstone test with three driver futures on the line | PlanetF1

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 7) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): fluff, language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, hangovers, sexual themes, self-pleasure, references to sexual activities, NSFW

Word Count: 5,209

A/N: Thank you for your patience while I took a bit of a break. Hopefully it won’t be as long while I finish up *the last part (*hopefully but no promises - iykyk). I hope you enjoy, please don’t be a ghost reader! Constructive criticism is always welcome <3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

Daniel woke up the next morning feeling like an anvil dropped on his head. He cursed the alarm but was thankful he had the foresight to set one. It was a tall order trying to sort through the details of the night before. He had his phone, keys, and wallet, so that was a win at least. What time had he gotten back to the hotel? He recounted the most peculiar dream that you had been in his room at one point – he reminded himself to lay off the melatonin, it always made his subconscious mind run wild. It took every ounce of energy to push himself upright, swinging his legs to the side of the bed at a glacial pace. Fighting the throbbing in his head, he almost missed the pills and water on the nightstand and a trash bin next to him on the floor. Drunk Daniel had never been so thoughtful or organized. Maybe it wasn’t melatonin after all. Those familiar butterflies he felt every time he thought of you fluttered away.

On second thought, definitely not butterflies.

After unceremoniously emptying the contents of his stomach, he gladly consumed the gifts you had left for him. He took a much longer shower than usual, doing his best to wash away the anxiety brought on by his hangover. He was going into the last race weekend of the year (maybe two) feeling like absolute shit. The thought of you putting him to bed initially made him giddy but it was overshadowed by fear of the unknown. His memory of the night before was fuzzy at best and but for the physical evidence you left behind, he would have gone on believing the kiss in Brazil was the last time the two of you interacted. Fuck, he had made such a fool of himself. What else had he inadvertently said or done last night? If you had walls up before, you probably now also had a moat, barbed wire, and trained militia on guard. In his efforts to get closer to you, you ended up pushing him away. You were the sun and he was Icarus.

But clearly all was not lost if you had helped him in his hour of need. If he could trust his “dream,” you had called him your friend. You had worn his clothes. You insinuated there would be a world where the two of you would be alone in a bedroom again. If all true, the culmination of those things did not add up to a person who wanted to completely shut him out. Then again, maybe that was you simply being you – that is, a good person who would show the same compassion to anyone whether they were your lover, friend, or stranger on the street.

He hadn’t had this lack of confidence picking up girls since he was an awkward teenager. From the beginning you had been a puzzle. You did not immediately fawn over him and fall victim to his charms. He sensed you may have even disliked him upon your first meeting, though he couldn’t blame you – he had severely underestimated you. Thereafter, every one of your laughs was hard earned which made them all the more sweet. You were accomplished in your own right and impressing you was a tall order, but when he succeeded it felt as though he had won Monaco a million times over.  

He thought back to Austin. So much had gone wrong, but so much had gone oh so right. There was an ease about you that weekend that he had only previously been privy to in staccato bursts. Whatever internal struggle you had been fighting seemingly slowed, allowing him to peel back all your layers. Even in that sad corridor, he could’ve sat next to you in silence for all of eternity and he would have been happy.

Then there was that pesky elephant in the room. In just a few days, he technically wouldn’t be your client anymore. He could get lost in all the tempting possibilities, but he had to stay focused. He’d cross that bridge later. Until then, all he had to do was stay in your good graces.

-

When the day came for your first client meeting in Abu Dhabi, you weren’t sure what version of Daniel you were going to get. You wouldn’t be surprised if he froze you out again like he did after Austin. It would be disappointing but understandable. You had explained yourself more than enough at this point though, and the position you found yourselves in wasn’t your fault. Nobody could have predicted that your client would fall for you when you were selected as counsel for the driver.  You couldn’t control his response, and if you reasserting your boundaries made him that upset then so be it.

No, there were no nerves this time but there was still an underlying anxiety that caused your heart to race. The partner was waiting at the offsite dinner location when you arrived. It was an elegant restaurant, so you had selected a pretty but conservative wrap dress for the occasion.

“Y/n, so glad you could make it,” he said as he extended his arms for a small hug.

“Me? I’ve been at every race weekend, not sure where you’ve been,” you teased.

“I know, I know, it’s been busy. I appreciate all your hard work through this. I’ve told the managing partner about your efforts, we’re all very impressed.” You couldn’t help the growing smile on your face, but you did your best to hide the absolute giddiness swelling in you. That bonus was yours to lose at this point and if this trajectory continued, you could make partner by the time you were 35.

“Thank you for the recognition, but I’m just doing my job,” you feigned in modesty. You knew how many hours of sleep you’d lost over the course of the last few months between the work itself and the constant travel. You knew how much you missed your friends and family during this time, and the other countless sacrifices you’d made along the way. But you would do it all over again for the once in a lifetime opportunity. And you never would have met Daniel - that certainly counted for something. Maybe after last week your relationship wouldn’t be the same going forward, but his companionship until now had offered you an unexpected fulfillment that felt foreign.  

Then, as if someone had read your mind:

“She’s being modest,” you heard behind you, a hand resting on your shoulder. You turned to see him in nice slacks, a crisp white t-shirt, and sport coat. For someone that was probably fighting for their life this morning and suffered through a long media day, he cleaned up very nicely. You did your best not to openly ogle, though he caught the quickened rise and fall of your chest. You couldn’t help but smile back when he gave you his signature grin.

“Daniel, great to see you,” Joe said as he extended his arm past you to shake his hand.

“Likewise, nice of you to finally show up.” His tone and features were so pleasant that he could pass off the genuine dig as jest. Either way, the partner was unphased.

“Well, that’s why I brought in my very best associate to help me out as back up.”

“I suppose I should consider myself lucky then,” he said, smiling back at you. “Though, I don’t think I would call her ‘back up’by any means.”

The familiar heat rose to your cheeks as you bit your lip to unsuccessfully suppress your bashful smile. You gently elbowed him to convey your thanks. Both for defending you but also for the normalcy of the interaction.

You anticipated a level of awkwardness after your nondescript rejection in Brazil, thinking he would try to distance himself as he had after Austin. You wouldn’t fault him if he sat next to Joe, but he plopped down right next to you as though nothing had happened. An unexpected wave of relief washed over you. It seemed clear that you were “good”, whatever that meant. Sure, it helped to have Joe there as a buffer, but the two of you would have probably been fine on your own. The thought gave you solace.

The uneventful meal concluded with a plan of action in place for the rest of the weekend. The three of you made your way out of the restaurant towards the valet.

“I hope the two of you will enjoy the weekend at least until we complete the signing on Monday? Consider it a thank you.” It wasn’t the first time you’d heard that line before, but it felt different this time.

“I’ll have to take some calls here and there, but sure, why not,” Joe responded, oblivious to the fact that the message was hardly meant for him.

“Good, I’ll make sure you guys have your paddock passes for the next few days.”

Of course as if on cue the partner’s phone went off as you exited the restaurant.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. But hey, great dinner. I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Yep, have a good night,” you trailed off as he walked away, smiling through gritted teeth. You watched as he got into the corporate car by himself already focused on something else entirely, even though you were all going back to the same place.

“Typical.” You turned to Daniel, surprised at his observation.

“Could you tell?”

“Seems like we both have bosses who abandon us.” You smiled.

“What an unfortunate bonding experience.”

It was a heavy conversation, but the air was light. You both giggled at your misfortunes. When it died down, he broke the silence.

“Uh, thanks for making sure I was… accounted for last night.”

“Oh,” your cheeks dusted pink. You had such high hopes he wouldn’t remember. Maybe there was still a chance, perhaps Lando had simply filled him in. “Sure, no biggie. It happens to the best of us.”

“I didn’t do or say anything embarrassing, right?” Daniel tested the waters, partially playing dumb. His memory may be fuzzy, but he knew enough. You pursed your lips together.

“Nothing more than usual,” you said with a smile, playing it off. He felt slightly disappointed. He wished you would admit to the kiss along with the hopes you’d bestowed upon him – but maybe it was just in his head after all. Either way, you didn’t seem entirely comfortable with the conversation and that was a clear enough message to him. He knew what he needed to do.

“Can I just say,” he paused. He might need to go back inside for another drink. “- that I’m sorry. For everything. You’re just here trying to do your job, and I’m not making it easier for you. You’ve said no, and I keep trying dumb shit. I should have stopped.”

Your chest tightened. The apology was somehow welcome, appreciated, and warranted. But you also found it endearing which made you like him even more. And it also probably meant that he had lost interest and that last part didn’t make you feel great either. You wanted to tell him everything but doing so would only complicate things. Instead you bit your tongue and gave a polite smile.

“Thank you. Apology accepted.”

“No, thank you. I’ve made an ass of myself over and over again and you put up with it.”

“Well. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from my first celebrity client, but ‘ass’ was certainly in the realm of possibility,” you said cheekily. “Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.” The lie slipped easily through your teeth.

“So you assumed I was going to be an ass?” he asked with a laugh.

“What did Drive to Survive call you guys? ‘Talented, rich, and cocky’?” He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, but his face was still warm and welcoming.

“Don’t tell me you watch that garbage.”

“For research purposes, obviously,” you said sarcastically.

He watched your eyes twinkle and the sly grin that graced your features as the desert wind gently blew your hair around your face, framing it perfectly. You fixed the strand he so badly wanted to tuck behind your ear yourself. Your wrap dress fluttered just so, allowing him to catch a quick glimpse of your upper thigh, contrasting the otherwise modest outfit. He wondered what it would be like to tug at the delicate bow at the side of your waist that kept the whole ensemble together. He caught himself in the middle of his thoughts.

“Since your boss left you stranded, can I give you a ride back?” You looked around, a serious look on your face. You whispered in a low voice.

“Is that… appropriate? I know men and women aren’t supposed to be alone together here.” He wanted to laugh but didn’t want to make you feel bad. Of course the lawyer wanted to follow everything to a T. He knew from experience that the morality laws were loosely enforced at best, but he wasn’t sure how much of that was attributed to his own privilege.

“If it makes you feel any better, I could pretend to be your chauffeur.” The line earned him a laugh.

“An F1 driver as a chauffeur. That’s rich.” He smiled, satisfied with his efforts to put you at ease.

“So is that a yes?”

“Yeah, but the expectations are pretty high.”

“You’ll have to let me know if I have a backup career as a personal driver if this whole F1 thing doesn’t work out.”

The valet pulled around an unassuming black SUV with tinted windows. Without skipping a beat, he opened the back passenger’s seat door waiting for you with an extended hand dipping into an exaggerated bow.

“Your chariot, m’lady.”

“Oh my, what service,” you contrived dramatics with a hand over your heart. Your other hand graciously accepted his while getting into the car. The familiar pulsating electricity coursed through the touch and lingered as you watched him close the door.

“Home Jeffrey,” you said, donning the worst British accent you could muster when he settled in the drivers seat. He peered at you in the reflection of the rearview mirror. You looked relaxed and happy, and that was enough for him. Your eyes locked, and you caught a glimpse of those dimples that could melt polar ice caps.

It was a comfortable ride back to the hotel, a little small talk here and there. He tossed the keys to the valet and helped you out of the car, again trying to memorize the feeling of your palm in his before reluctantly letting go.

He pressed for his floor in the elevator. He looked at you when you didn’t follow suit, wondering for a moment whether he forgot his manners.

“Uh, what floor are you?” he asked politely, hovering over the buttons.

“Oh… I actually ended up down the hall from you.”

“Oh.” A loud silence fell. It was unclear whether the arrangement was fortuitous or simply torture for both parties, the other so close but just out of reach.

The doors opened and you tried to hide a sheepish look as you started walking in the same direction.

“Are you following me now?” he joked. “I don’t need help getting into bed this time, promise.”

You stammered a bit, trying to find the right words but decided to keep your mouth shut. You had begged the concierge to find you any other room but she insisted the hotel was fully booked and there were no other options. But you realized in that moment it would only be weird if you made it weird. Humor was always the best deflection so you decided to lean into it. Your ability to hide your growing smile began to falter. Looking like the cat that swallowed the canary, you didn’t say a word as you walked past him when he finally stopped in front of his door. Only looking back in his direction to wave when you stopped in front of yours which happened to be the room over. You both snorted before dissolving into laughter over the absurdity of it all.

“Don’t worry, I’ll try not to throw any ragers,” you said between fits of giggles.

“You mean I wouldn’t be invited?” he asked in faux disbelief.

“You know you’re always welcome, what’s a party without thee Daniel Ricciardo? I just wouldn’t want to disrupt your ‘high performance athlete’ routine before race day.” He cocked an eyebrow.

“If you threw a ‘rager’, everyone would be sitting in a circle doing face masks with Celine Dion playing in the background like some kind of selfcare séance. And it would be over by 10pm.” The laughter that had finally started to slow picked up again. His heart skipped a beat seeing your nose scrunch.

“Hey now, you forgot the scented candles. That open flame is a safety hazard.”

“You are just too wild and crazy.”

“You know me so well. I’ll do my best to keep it down, no promises though.” The laughter slowed again, but the wide grins remained.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow… neighbor.” You smiled, liking the way it sounded coming from him.

“I guess so, good night neighbor.”

You closed your respective doors, each acutely aware of the one wall that separated you.

-

Daniel rubbed the sleep out of his eyes the next morning, aimlessly palming his nightstand to turn off his alarm. He made his way to the bathroom, slowly shaking away his slumber. He was washing his hands when he realized there was more noise than what was coming from the faucet. He turned the water off and listened. He picked out the sound of running water. There may have been music playing from a phone, but it was drowned out by a muffled, unmistakable, offkey voice he could pick out anywhere.

Cuz when the night faaaaallls

My loneliness calls

Boo doo boo DOOP

Ohhhhh I wanna dance with somebody

I wanna feel the HEAT with somebody

yeaAHH I wanna dance with somebody

With somebody who loves me

He smiled to himself listening to you try to do lead, backup vocals, and instrumentals of the Whitney Houston classic, reminiscing back to your performance with Lando in Japan. The warmth that spread from his chest to his toes woke him up, suddenly feeling a renewed sense of optimism for the practice sessions ahead.

As he left to head to the paddock, he heard another door close. His timing was meticulous and he counted his blessings that he should be so fortunate to share more time with you. He couldn’t help the giant smile that grew on his face at the sight of you, immediately imagining you singing in the shower. You double checked for something in your bag before you looked up to meet his gaze. You looked behind you to make sure his dimples weren’t reserved for someone else.

“Hi?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Hi.” He knew he looked dumb, but he didn’t care. He was allowed to smile at you, right?

“You’re awfully happy to see me this morning.” The corners of your mouth turned upward, marked with a cautious skepticism.

“Yeah, h-” He stopped himself. How was your sold out stadium tour in the shower? But if this was a ritual of yours, he didn’t want to miss out on future performances – he did still have three more days with you. “I’m just excited for the practice session.”

Your smile relaxed somewhat. “I’m glad you’re feeling confident. Do you wanna walk over together?”

“Oh, you’re going there too?” He mentally smacked himself as soon as the words left his mouth. Where else would you be going?

“Well yeah. You invited Joe and I, remember?”

“Right. Wasn’t sure if you were off to do lawyer things.”

“I mean I am, but the track is a lot more fun than the hotel lobby. Y’know?”

He did. And the walk there was much nicer with your company. He enjoyed this new morning routine and would be sure to make it happen the rest of the weekend. On his own he may have felt the gravity of the situation more, may have simply gone through the motions to get it all over with, the weight on his shoulders too much to bear. But your presence invigorated him. Helped him believe that there were better things on the horizon. He just needed to clear this one last hurdle and he had the strength to do it. He was consistent in the Friday practice sessions, and your shower version of “Pocketful of Sunshine” the next morning helped him place P10 for qualifying.

You too found this morning pattern soothing. You were pleasantly surprise that you enjoyed your new neighbor more than you thought you would, and happy that what you thought would be a source of stress and awkwardness brought you peace and comfort. When race day rolled around, you had no reason to believe it would be any different than practice or qualifying, other than the fact it was a night race. So you caught up on work in the morning before you got yourself ready as usual. You decided it was a Celine Dion day, happily belting “It’s All Coming Back To Me Now,” unbeknownst to you that you had an audience. In another pleasant turn of events, Joe had given you the ok to leave the work at home, granting full permission to enjoy the race. You initially went for your yellow midi dress, but it triggered flashbacks to Austin. It was best to put it away, no need to risk the bad juju. You struggled to pick something else, changing no less than five times. Somehow you needed to be modest, but in something where you wouldn’t overheat, but it would cool down once the sun set, but it also had to be stylish because you were again going to be surrounded by A-listers across an array of disciplines who looked like they just walked off the runway in Milan. For once you wished you had the ease of just throwing on a suit and being done with the whole ordeal. But the thought got your creative juices flowing, and you settled on a sleek black blazer dress. You threw on the Louboutins you bought with your first Big Law pay check that only came out on special occasions, and topped off the outfit with some big gold hoops for good measure. You could always fake confidence with red bottoms, red lips, and gold hoops.

Even though you had no work with you this time, you had grown accustomed to arriving fashionably early to these events to coincide with Daniel. You gave a friendly knock on his door, expecting him to be ready at the same time as you as he had the last two days. But nothing could have prepared you for coming face to face with the Australian and his Adonis-like figure on full display. Of course he would have no shame answering the door in just a smile and a towel, though with a body like that it was amazing he wore clothes ever.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I. Uh. Um. I-” You continued to stutter as you tried to figure out where to look. You feebly tried to avert your gaze but his beautifully tan muscles demanded attention, from his shoulders, to his pecs, to his abs. You wanted to study and write a dissertation on the tattoos on his arms. You definitely wanted to memorize the line of the towel that hung just so on his hips. But you also didn’t want to make it obvious that you were staring. So your eyes darted from the ceiling, to his body, to the floor, then back to his body, in a chaotic loop.

“My eyes are up here.” His voice dripped with smugness. You definitely couldn’t look there. But you obliged, only to be met with the cockiest smirk you’d ever seen in your life. Your entire body was on fire, and the arrogant twinkle in his eye only stoked it. You knew he was hot. God knew he was hot. Everyone knew he was hot. And he knew it too. And he was having the best time seeing you flustered.

“When you’re done having a stroke, care to tell me why you’re here?”

“You have to be there in less than an hour, I thought you’d be ready to go and we could head down together!” Your tone came off as frustrated. And you were, for more reasons than one. He rolled his eyes.

“We aren’t that far and I don’t take that long to get ready. Give me a few minutes, I’ll be right out.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll be in my room,” you said curtly, and spared no time practically running back.

Daniel laughed to himself as he closed the door to continue getting ready. Seeing you lose any measure of control had become one of his favorite things, a stark contrast to your usual moda operendi. He paused though when an unfamiliar sound came from the wall you shared. He stood in front of it for a moment trying to decipher what it was. It sounded like an electric shaver, but why would you need one of those? His eyes widened and the blood rushed to his cheeks and crotch as it dawned on him.

Your hands were almost shaking as you got the door open. You rummaged through your bag to find your vibrator, practically ransacking your room in the process. You definitely had time to rub one out before he would be ready. The picture of his muscly tattooed thighs pressing on the back of yours flooded your brain, back bowed for him with his name falling off your tongue. Your body ached for it to be a reality, one that was so close yet so far. You fell on the bed and pressed the toy where you needed it, eyes squeezed shut, desperately wishing it was the appendage of your friendly neighbor.

Daniel had never gotten ready so fast in his entire life. No doubt, what he just witnessed was the epitome of sexual frustration. Knowing you, you would be quick and efficient about it – he could imagine you splayed on the bed with the hem of your dress bunched up. You probably didn’t even take off your underwear. An internal battle waged within him – whether to rub one out himself or rush to catch you in your immediate post orgasm bliss, the latter ultimately winning. He would have plenty of time later to take care of himself.  

You were so close, when your phone went off.

DR: I’m outside your door.

The disturbance in your momentum should have thrown you off. But the idea that he was basically right there while you touched yourself pushed you right to the edge. Another fantasy intruded your thoughts, imagining what it might be like if he were to come inside and watch you. Your phone dinged again a second later.

DR: Come.

And you did.

You barely had time to come down from your orgasm as you smoothed out your skirt and grabbed your bag again.

“Hi sorry I’m ready,” you said breathlessly as you strode past him.

Daniel chewed the inside of his cheek. He didn’t miss the bright pink flush or the light sheen that graced your features. Your obvious glow matched the flyaways that now stuck out from your otherwise perfectly coiffed hair that made him want to drag you into his room and put that silly little imagination of yours to shame. Demand to know whether your dreams were as good as the real thing with a fistful of your hair in his hand as he buried himself deep inside you. Demand to know whether that stupid toy made you feel like half the woman he did. And that dress. That beautiful dress that hugged your body in all the right places, that showed off its peaks and valleys, that teased just the tip of your cleavage before sealing your tits away like a cruel riddle. He would ruin it. The stiffness in his pants pestered him, and he pushed the impossible thoughts away. He settled on tucking one of the out-of-place strands behind your ear, not missing the opportunity to tease you even if only a little.

“Everything ok? You’re all flushed.”

You bit back a whimper as the tip of your ear fired signals to your core and you suddenly wished your hair follicles had tactile sensors. You would’ve been blushing if your face wasn’t already red.

“Yeah… I, uh, realized I lost an earring. So I had to find it.”

“Did you?” The way his warm brown eyes bore into yours made your stomach do cartwheels.

“Yeah.” Why were you suddenly panting?

“Good. I’m glad you, uh… found your earring.” If you blinked you would’ve missed it, but you could’ve sworn you saw the flash of a smirk cross his face before it was gone. Were you still talking about earrings?

You continued to make your way to the paddock together, you stayed just a pace ahead still hesitant to make eye contact with the driver. You whipped around though when you heard a distinct *click* only to find him with his camera still aimed at you. Another *click*, the flash blinding you momentarily.

“Daniel!” The blush that had finally started to fade came back with a vengeance. He had tried to take pictures of you before, eager to practice his new hobby, and you had politely reminded him that it would pose a risk to your attorney-client privilege (it was mostly a lie, but he didn’t need to know that). But now he lowered the camera, revealing a ghost of a smirk.

“I figured it’s ok since you’re not working. Just want to remember everything from my last race day.”

“We’re in the hallway of a hotel,” you deadpanned.

“You’re right, I’ll take better pictures when we’re outside.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Natural lighting is so much better anyways.” You sighed, reluctantly granting your approval and he internally cheered. You didn’t need to know there was no way in the world he would delete the ones he already took though, that perfectly captured the curve of your backside and your beautiful, bambi eyes looking over your shoulder.

He could’ve gotten lost in his thoughts of you and he would do so happily, but he needed to get in the zone. He tried, but surprisingly the feeling never came. He found he wasn’t really nervous either. After basically processing the five stages of grief over the last few months over his career, there was nothing left for him to prove or fight for. That thought once brought him deep shame, but now it was freeing. Maybe the weight of everything would hit him later, but for now he simply wanted to be in the moment wherever the day led him. At this particular moment, that meant walking to the paddock with you at his side.

-

Tags: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

[agentstarkid]

https://creativepromptsforwriting.tumblr.com/post/666926157131890688/prompt-793

Ok but what if instead of saying it to each other, Daniel sees a picture of Queen with Ruben and he says talking to someone else.

“He brought out the smile that’s reserved for the people she loves” “how do you know?” “It’s how she smiled at me”

One Year of Enchantment Celebration! | this was a fun twist! tysm nonnie <3 hope you like it!

THERE'S NO REMEDY FOR MEMORY ✦ DR3

1.2k words | no warnings | set after nepenthe | series masterlist

The air was filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the distant hum of cicadas while the sky remained a clear, endless blue. The days have been long and hot in the farm for the past couple of weeks since the season has ended, with the landscape dotted with vibrant greenery contrasting beautifully with the sun-baked earth. 

This was his safe haven. Tucked far away from the media, the constant chaos of his fast-life, and all the people who would sit behind screens and criticize every tiny detail of his life and career. 

This was also a place where every corner held memories; ones that were like books with chapters, strong and deeply meaningful. Books that now were on a shelf—but never allowed to gather dust. 

The deck of the house bore silent testimony to the nights spent huddled together, sharing dreams, secrets and fears. Each plank seemed to hum with the energy of deep conversations, and stolen kisses. But now, those nights had vanished like the stars at dawn—just like her—, leaving behind an echo of what once was, etched into the wood and the heart of the farmhouse.

That was where you could find him most of the time—just sitting, barefoot and silent. 

See, he often found himself at war with his own mind and heart these past months. He couldn't help but be swept away by contradictory thoughts. 

On one side, the presence of her lingered in his mind. He still thought of the girl often, the memories of their time together refusing to fade. There was an unspoken truth he kept to himself, locked away in the recesses of his heart. 

On the other side, there was Heidi—sweet, kind, Heidi. He loved her, he really did and there was no doubt about it in his heart, but somehow, it didn't feel the same. The love he had for her was real, yet different, less consuming. She was his present, a comforting reality that he was grateful for, but she couldn't erase the shadow that her brightness left behind. This inner conflict gnawed at him, making the memories of the deck even more poignant and bittersweet.

Blake found him sitting on the floor, legs bent and an arm wrapped around them while the other hand held his phone, a deep frown etched across his face. The sun cast a warm, golden glow over the scene, but he seemed untouched by the summer's brightness, lost in a world of his own. 

Blake approached him, curiosity evident in his eyes, and asked, “What's got you so frowny, bro?” His voice broke through the driver's reverie, pulling him back to the present, where the weight of his thoughts momentarily lifted in the company of a friend—who's last name, ironically, was Friend.

Daniel debated between lying or telling him the truth. After a moment of hesitation, he decided he felt safe enough to share. He knew Blake would give him honest, no-bullshit advice. With a sigh, Daniel showed his manager-turned-best friend his phone, revealing a picture from a fan account. 

The screen displayed Y/N and Rúben, she was smiling up at Rúben while he had his arm wrapped around her, a matching smile on his face. The image stirred a mix of emotions in him, a stark reminder of what once was and what could never be again. Blake studied the picture, understanding the depth of Daniel's turmoil without needing to say a word.

After a moment of silence, Daniel finally spoke, his voice tinged with a mix of sadness and resignation. “He brought out the smile that's reserved for the people she loves.”

Blake looked at him, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes. “How do you know?” he asked gently.

Daniel's gaze remained fixed on the photo, his grip tightening slightly on the phone. “It's how she smiled at me,” he replied quietly, a humorless smile gracing his face. The weight of his words hung in the air, a poignant reminder of the deep connection that had once existed and the pain of seeing it shared with someone else.

Blake took a seat next to him, the deck creaking softly under his weight. He probably knew Daniel better than anyone by now, and understood his struggles. He had seen the love Daniel had for her—massive and real—but also the toll it had taken on him during a time when he was not in the best place mentally. He had been a key witness to everything from the beginning.

“Mate, that's tough,” he said, his voice low and understanding. He debated whether to ask what has been on his mind for months, but this was the best chance he was going to get, “Be real with me for a second,” he angled his face to clearly see his, “You still have feelings for her, don't ya?”

Daniel sighed deeply, leaning his head back against the deck railing. A short silence settled between them, he exhaled slowly, eyes shut as the cogs turned and turned, eventually clicking into place in his mind—It was time to speak about the truth that has been troubling him. “Yeah, I do. It's hard not to, you know?” a wistful smile ghosted over his face, “She was a huge part of my life, bro. And seeing her with someone else, happy... it just brings everything back.”

Blake nodded slowly, absorbing Daniel's words. “But you've got Heidi now,” he reminded gently.

“I know,” he admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I care about her a lot. I love her, too. But it's different. It doesn't feel the same. Maybe it's not supposed to, but sometimes I can't help but compare.”

Blake's eyes softened with understanding. He knew why Daniel had ended things with the latina—with Sparky—, recognizing the immense strain Daniel was under at the time. But he had also witnessed the depth of Daniel's love for her and the pain she had endured when it all fell apart. 

“Love isn't always the same, Dan,” Blake said thoughtfully. “It changes, evolves. What you had with her was special, and what you have with Heidi is special in its own way. You were in a rough place when you and Sparky were together, but that doesn't mean your love for her wasn't real. And it doesn't mean what you have with Heidi isn't real, either.”

Daniel nodded, appreciating his trusted friend’s insight. “Yeah, maybe you're right. I just need to sort it all out in my head.”

Blake gave him a reassuring pat on the back. “And you will. Just take it one day at a time.”

Daniel smiled faintly, comforted by his mate's presence and understanding. “Thanks, bro.”

Blake grinned, leaning back on his hands. “Anytime, mate.” he got up from his spot, and began to head back inside. “Now, c’mon, get your ass up and let’s have a brekkie. I’m fucking starving, bro.”

He let out a chuckle, and as if on cue, his stomach growled. He could hear the faint voice of his friend complaining about having been enrolled in an early morning work out unwillingly. A faint smirk played at the corner of his lips. He breathed in a good lungful, his mind clearing as he breathed out and watched the summer breeze rustling through the trees, a reminder that life, with all its complexities, continued to move forward.

[catboymoments]

I've been on a bit of a Danganronpa kick lately, and I wanted to share some thoughts I remembered (originally from 2022).

I am having a hard time believing that the whole world outside of Japan also suffered from the same total societal collapse (+ brainwashing?) that Japan fell to. Yes, I can imagine that countries with particularly close ties to Japan could suffer greatly, some perhaps even falling to civil conflict, but I'm not sure if I buy the totality of it, especially in the countries more isolated from the outside world (eg. Cuba), or ones with draconian censorship regimes (eg. China). The developing countries in particular I imagine would be spared most of the brainwashing, instead taking the brunt of the damage from the worldwide economic crisis, which yes it would also end in blood, but -- if I allow myself to be cynical for a moment -- nothing that particularly exceeds the scale of the wars and genocides we've seen there in the late 20th century. Really, the less culturally connected a country is to Japan, the less brainwashed its populace should probably be, given how Japanese Hope's Peak student body is. And, especially in the developed countries, this is probably where the effects of the Tragedy are the lightest, allowing them to gather themselves relatively quickly and act as starting points for rebuilding the world. Which honestly provides interesting story material on its own, as many of these governments could have visions of the post-Tragedy world that conflict with the Future Foundation's and each other's...

This is going to be a direct criticism of the Future Foundation now: of their 14 divisions, none of them are tasked with rebuilding of governments, local and national institutions of power. Almost as if they planned on ruling the world indefinitely after defeating Despair. And the fact that they don't seem to have a plan for handing over power makes me fear for how the world would actually look after their victory at the end of DR3. And when people start demanding a say in how they're governed, how will they respond? Will they respond to these protests like Hope's Peak did to the Parade, and set up another Tragedy as a result? Will they hastily restore status quo ante, with all its systemic failures that allowed Despair to fester and set up a Tragedy reprise, just further down the line than the first option? Because fixing these systemic problems is a work that should be started Day 1 of the Foundation's operations, to have a proper plan that adequately addresses them. And, like I said, they don't seem to have any kind of team dedicated to making such a plan.

I know this is a long ask, but I needed to get all of this off my chest. Thank you for your time, and have a nice day.

I agree with u. DR3 has so many issues

[hopeymchope]

what's some criticism you have about makoto/the most valid criticism you've sene of him?

I've been sitting on this ask for like a week, because I've been struggling with it. Even when I think I remember one that hits a solid mark, I then mentally argue it down to being a non-issue.

The only criticism I've seen that ever hit any kind of mark for me is some fans' frustrations that he didn't endure/overcome much personal loss compared to many of the characters around him, because he repeatedly seems to luck out and have it work out in the end. This usually comes from people who are bitter about Kirigiri's survival in DR3, but I can understand that having Naegi's seeming losses get reversed or resolved whereas someone like Fuyuhiko has to lose his sister and then just carry on with it... it can seem kind of unfair. Why does he get to keep his secondary protag/potential love interest, but Hajime loses Chiaki? Why does he get his sister back safely while Asahina loses her brother forever? And so on.

The first counter to this complaint is that, well, he seemingly / maybe / probably? lost his parents during the tragedy. But those with this complaint find it frustrating that this is kept open-ended and hopeful, still leaving him with a chance to once again reverse/undo his loss. Despite seeing their corpses pretty clearly broadcast on television during Ultra Despair Girls, when Komaru finally gets to the actual place the Naegi parents are supposed to be? They aren't there, leaving her with a sense of hope that she'll still find them somehow alive.

The second counter to this complaint is that obviously Makoto still loses tons of friends during the course of DR1. Even if he doesn't immediately remember how close they all were, its implied in DR2 that they maybe/probably got those memories back later. Which had to make it pretty devastating.

Those who harbor this complaint have sometimes said that Naegi's unrelenting hope would mean more if he actually had to overcome a permanent loss. But I think that rings kind of hollow when you consider that he manages to remain hopeful even in the immediate aftermath of Kyoko's "death" in DR3. At this lowest possible point, he stands strong.

And despite how much I'm arguing against this complaint? I still think it rings kind of true. Because it DOES feel unfair that he gets off relatively lightly compared to so many other characters. Togami loses everything that defined him, everything that he based his pride and reputation on. Kirigiri loses Samidare brutally, finds her father's body without even knowing if the two of them ever achieved any kind of closure, and the question of whether she ever reunites with her grandfather is left wide open. Class 77-B may only lose ONE of their friends and classmates, but they also lose their freedom and their ability to live a peaceful life by accepting and embracing not only the guilt of their actions as Remnants, but also taking on the guilt of what happened in the Future Arc of DR3. Maki loses Kaito, Shuichi loses Kaito AND Kaede, and so on. These characters are forced to carry on after permanent, undeniable losses.

For those reasons, I do prefer to think that the Naegi parents are later confirmed dead. It gets Naegi more of a permanent, personal loss to endure and overcome in the longer term—I even wrote a fanfic one-shot about it.

But you know, I feel like I should mention that, for those who think Makoto gets off light because he's a "creator's pet" or something? There is someone in the DR1 who ultimately gets off even lighter than Naegi: Yasuhiro Hagakure. The ONLY seeming personal loss he ever endures is his mom — and he gets her back safe and sound! But I guess he's very rarely explored seriously since he's mostly comic relief... so maybe people don't worry about him as much.

[si11ypiratecat]

It just doesn’t make sense? Especially from the perspective of sponsors/money.

If the drop was decided internally and properly before the leak, then at least aside from Daniel himself, the sponsors would get informed? (I imagine the contract must have this with my minimal knowledge in business and law and COMMON SENSE. ) Then wouldn’t the sponsors and liberty media want to put up a grand show of last dance cause if they would be loosing a pretty profitable personnel for the rest of the year, and thus potentially loosing profit, they would want to make some kind of compensation? Granted Daniel himself could be prohibited by the contract from saying anything officially and could have very limited leverage for negotiation whatsoever. But would any sponsor allow this hell of a PR disaster to happen when they have even a tiny bit of time to plan for something? Or even just some damage control when the leak happened?

And if you are to tell me that bad PR is still good PR and that there is a ton of attention and spotlights, and this ambiguity may bring in even more money from the dedicated fans, which is exactly what they want. Maybe the cold hearted corporations are playing the game called ‘who cares about honor or legacy of a guy, whatever that brings in the money!’ Then again it still doesn’t make sense, because there is easily small things that can be done to both lower the risk (of getting criticism and damage to brand image) and improve the outcome (ticket/merch/follow up event sales). And still nothing from nowhere was done? The whole 96 hours starting Thursday morning to Sunday night. Unless the bureaucracies are so incompetent in all parties involved that not any agreement could be achieved, and thus leading to this shit show of ‘literally all media jumping the gun’? Or Daniel Ricciardo is really that washed of a personnel/brand that all of them agree that not a teeny tiny bit of effort of interference during the weekend would be worth it?

If the drop was decided very secretively internally within very limited members without informing any sponsors or outsiders, then wouldn’t it be a pretty risky decision? Like a move potentially tarnishing the trust and relationship with brands? Does rbr not care? Or did rbr just always do it like this? Or does this sport just always work like this?

My logical (as logical as I am capable of) attempt at explaining this confusing situation leads to two general directions.

a) dr3 is almost so worthless in the eyes of rbr and all parties involved that despite media jumped the gun, nobody cared to interfere, since there is no extra profit. An extremely hard pill to swallow. (Who knows maybe I have been delusional altogether, but hey I also don’t need to agree with the standard set by capitalism. )

b) rbr is another level of a shitbox and does not give shit about reputation. Well a long known fact actually. In that case. A luxurious shiny paper castle is still made of paper. You light a single match, and then it will take care of the rest of it and burn itself down. We just wait and see.

[g0nta-g0kuhara]

Hello! :] I saw your post recently regarding the pervasive feeling of shame in newer fans re: Danganronpa, and it really resonated. I wanted to offer my two cents as a fandom old/armchair fandom archeologist that's hopefully a little heartening:

I remember back in 2012/2013 when Danganronpa was beloved, during the height of the SomethingAwful TL days. It was a genuinely fun time to be into things, especially as people were getting excited for an EN release, something that I do think the fandom deserves a little credit in making happen. I was there for the UDG release, DR3 anime, and the lead-up to v3's release, and unfortunately, I think the fact that all three of those entries were in some ways polarizing effectively memory-holed a lot of people into believing Danganronpa was never "good" to begin with, which makes it a lot easier to pick out its flaws and give it a bit of a weird reputation now.

(As a tangent, but some more context that might help: Danganronpa also got really big on my neck of the woods in Tumblr during one of the big Homestuck hiatuses. Back in the day there was a lot of fandom crossover, which I don't really think is the case nowadays, but I think for people that were either in both fandoms and had negative experiences, or people outside who disliked either/or, they've been inextricably linked together as part of a particular "time" in Tumblr/internet history that isn't remembered fondly. So, I have a theory that a lot of secondhand Danganronpa disdain comes from misplaced disdain for the other Big Thing at the time.

This also overlapped with the tail end of the big SuperWhoLock era to my memory, which is usually much more focused on which discussing Tumblr history. Which is a shame, because I feel like this particular transitional era of Tumblr "fandom" history has been underdiscussed because of it!

None of this is excusing some of the things I've seen said about DR fans and the ways people have been iced out for liking it, but I find trying to understand the factors at play always helps my mind figure out how to process these things.)

However: time moves on. This isn't permanent. Having gone back and re-experienced the whole series some 5+ years removed, I was able to find joy in parts of the series that, while I was in the thick of a shift in fandom attitude, didn't appreciate as much as I think I should have. I didn't absolutely love everything, but I had so much fun, it almost felt like I was experiencing things again for the first time.

I want to believe the same thing will happen as we get some time removed, as people get nostalgic for things and get older and understand that you can love something flawed, criticize it, and not feel shame for it. I always welcome fresh faces discovering something for the first time, but I think that some day, a lot of older fans can come back and embrace it as well. Sometimes you need time and life and a few extra years on you. I'm living proof of it! :P

Of course, this is just one person's perspective from one slice of the fandom. But I remain hopeful. There really is nothing else quite like Danganronpa for me, warts and all. You don't have to post this publicly or anything if you don't want to, but I wanted to offer a little hope to go with your thoughts. :') and I hope you have a great day!

Oh man, I really really appreciate this message. I am really interested in the perspective of fans who have been here for so long, and I always feel a little out of my depth talking about old (read: 2018 and before) DR fandom because despite seeing a Lot of it in my blog-diving, I still wasn't there. It's genuinely wonderful to hear that it was beloved like that, even if only fully for the first two installments.

I HAVE noticed a weird amount of homestuck/dr crossover in my searches, so that totally makes sense! Hell, my first exposure to DR on tumblr was a homestuck blog I followed back in 2017/2018ish (for the artstyle, I haven't read homestuck) that also posted a lot about Kazuichi. That's super cool!

While I feel like today, there is at least a little bit of fondness (even if it is a little ironic) for superwholock days, I see very little talk of homestuck. And when I do, it is usually with the same flavour of "Wow that fandom was so crazy" as old-DR.

I think there is usually this reactionary retrospective on site-wide popular fandoms to some degree after they start to wane in size. I saw it when I was in the TMA fandom. That thing was a monster, and over all I felt more stressed there than I ever feel now with DR. And after it ended, and really even During those last few episodes, you could feel a level of distaste for the piece of media growing. Although it never really reached critical mass like DR.

Maybe its even more apparent with something like Steven Universe- when it was actively coming out there was so much disdain for it (from some people) and for the fandom. I was there, on the sidelines, but I saw it all and it wasn't fun. But after its finale and a couple years of silence, people now seem to have come around and realized, whoa, so much about all that discourse was way overblown. I feel like a couple years ago there could still have been this sense of "cringe" posting about steven universe, while today its a lot more neutral.

Of course, it's kind of weird to compare DR and SU, and the nature of outside of fandom perspectives on them is not the same. The level of disdain for people posting SU never reached the point of DR either. But if it's anything to go by, I feel like there is hope eventually for people to stop having an immediate knee-jerk reaction to it. To look back and realize, "hey, that was actually pretty good," or "I didn't really appreciate this the first time." Or even just "It's fine actually to have nuanced take on this piece of media I don't like that concludes with them still liking it." I feel like we already got a mini-version of that in 2020, but since that's when I joined I can't speak too much on it.

Small tangent aside, I really appreciate this. I also hope people can come back around to it, or at least appreciate that it made them or other people happy at the time c:

[soylent-crocodile]

Voidslug (Monster)

(Art by Der-Reiko on deviantart)

CR4 NE Medium Ooze

A voidslug is a living tear into the plane of negative energy, the coagulation of its entropic energy given wretched animation. While a dedicated adventuring party can take one out easily, it leaves a path of dead animals, withered plants, broken structures, and barren soil behind it as it wanders; a single voidslug can render a small area inhospitable if allowed to exist too long.

Mindless undead are naturally drawn to a voidslug, and the creatures seem to tolerate their presence, often worsening a zombie infestation. Particularly nihilistic or destructive intelligent undead may keep a voidslug around as a source of healing and strength, but those who desire the material or interpersonal usually recognize the voidslug’s potential for collateral damage.

Inside a voidslug is a solid, gemlike mass of crystalized negative energy. This gem can be used as 1,000gp worth of Onyx Gems for the purpose of Animate Dead, Create Undead, and similar spells, or towards creating any construct that has the aforementioned spell as a component.

This creature resembles a living wad of black phlegm, and it leaves behind a trail of thick fluid and dead plant life.

Misc- CR4 NE Medium Ooze HD6 Init:-1 Senses: Perception:+3, Blindsight 60ft Aura: Malevolence 60ft (DC15) Stats- Str:16(+3) Dex:8(-1) Con:22(+6) Int:4(-3) Wis:17(+3) Cha:14(+2) BAB:+4 Space:5ft Reach:5ft Defense- HP:57(5d8+35) AC:14(-1 Dex, +5 Natural) Fort:+7 Ref+3 Will:+7 CMD:16 (Can’t be tripped) Immunity: Cold, Acid, Lightning, critical hits, flanking, precision damage, paralysis, poison, polymorph, sleep, stun, and visual effects Special Defenses: DR3/-, Negative Energy Affinity, Sundering Tar Offense- Slam +7(1d6+5 plus Energy Drain) CMB:+7 Speed:20ft Special Attacks: Energy Drain (1 level, DC15) Feats- Lightning Reflexes, Power Attack (-2/+4), Toughness Skills- Stealth +4 Special Qualities- Compression, No Breath Ecology- Environment- Any Languages- Aklo (Can’t speak) Organization- Solitary, Lure (1 Voidslug, 2-4 Zombies) Treasure- None Special Abilities- Aura of Malevolence (Ex)- A voidslug is constantly leaking negative energy into its surroundings; a living creature that starts its turn within a voidslug’s aura take 1d6+1 negative energy damage, DC15 will save for half. Undead creatures are instead healed 1d6+1 damage. This will save is HD-based. Additionally, undead within an aura of malevolence gain a +2 profane bonus to melee attack and damage rolls. Sundering Tar (Su)- A voidslug is made of a thick, corrosive tar that degrades all material it touches. Any weapon or other object that touches a voidslug must make a DC12 Fortitude save or be broken; broken weapons that fail this save are destroyed. This save is charisma-based.

[cdroloisms]

dr3 please send help im so obsessed with jmah au but Specifically Box Au i think this is a Problem. box au is so absolutely crazy to me . imagine getting not one au but TWO AUS WORTH OF TORTURE 😭😭 do u have any more fun facts or other info u can give us abt it 🙏

HAHA god box AU is so nuts soooooo nuts

just checked my tag man I gave yall NOTHING didn't I ??? okay okay box AU information. once again, here are the main two posts about the premise of this AU, which is actually an extension and sort of "bad end" for my and kat's JMAH AU. In short, when jmah!Quackity takes over the prison at the end of the AU, the dominos fall so that jmah!Sam offers to let him visit Dream to get the revive book (like he did in the first canon timeline) in the prison to bargain his way out of the main cell. Quackity scoffs at Sam's attempt at a deal, considering the guy doesn't have any real leverage, but realizes that he needs to protect the prison from any Technoblade-related interference (especially because at this point Sam has spilled about timeline #1 and has either directly said that Techno was responsible for things going south with the prison the first go around in some kind of emotional or pain-driven rant, or Quackity has put that together himself) and that he can get much-needed Sam revenge by fucking with Dream. As a result, Sam is let out of the main cell, and Quackity tortures Dream daily much like in canon--only this time, he answers to no one, he's the Warden now bitch, and Sam is his shitty little janitor/mechanic/punching bag probably sometimes when he gets pissed the fuck off, which is often. Sam is allowed into the main cell post-sessions for only 30 minutes a day.

For Dream...it's a horrific betrayal. Worse than the first, honestly. When Sam first arrives in the jmah timeline a stranger to Dream, the emotional impact was kind of secondary to being suddenly thrown head first into the deep end of "Sam is unrecognizable, crazy as fuck, and probably about to actually murder me" -- in canon, c!Sam's whole deal at the beginning of the prison is still sudden, but at least there's some sense in connecting Sam as Warden to the man he was before. With a year's worth of context missing, Dream is honestly too busy what the fuck-ing to process how badly he's been betrayed by Sam. No frogboil, this time -- just the alarm of Sam building what ends up being a torture machine on day two (2) of the prison. On the other hand, the last year of his life has been spent playing catch up, having to make sense of the man that Sam now is Or Else. He has devoted everything to figuring out the rules to abide by, mathing out what makes the Warden grimly satisfied and what makes him give into sudden and alarming violence. Sam at the beginning of Dream's prison stay is a stranger, but by the end he very much isn't one, and it's the Sam that has become his whole damn world that sells him to save his own skin.

That being said, it's still just Sam. Quackity's visits are. Well, they're not pretty. He doesn't have to answer to Sam, this time, and is actively against the idea because jmah!Quackity REALLY REALLY hates Sam. Dream is angry at first, because of fucking course he's angry, he was sold, he's utterly fucked, Sam broke something unnamed but fundamental between them, every time he's left bleeding out it's because his Warden let another man own him--but at the same time, there is nothing else. Nothing else. Quackity is barely even in this for the book, honestly--what's more critical to him is 1) revenge and 2) the power of having control over Pandora's Fucking Vault, and both are kiiiinda dependent on using Dream against Sam but not really about Dream. The book would be a great cherry on top, of course; he has zero love lost for either person here, but what's most important is Making Them Pay.

Sam, therefore, is actually in a really uncomfortable position, because the reason why he proposes this deal (and his mindset as he proceeds through this time period) is that he doesn't actually want to be on opposite sides from Quackity. He killed Q, but because he was a security risk, because he had broken into the cell because he was going to take Dream away -- Sam hasn't exactly mathed out the fact that his complicated ass camaraderie with Quackity in canon is COMPLETELY in ruins in jmah's timeline. He's working on a plan to get the prison and prisoner back into his control, of course, but he wants to believe that the current situation is controlled and sustainable, just a different name for what had been the arrangement in canon--even though, y'know. That's absolutely not the case.

The way this works is largely that Quackity more or less visits daily to torture Dream (but unlike canon, he's not exactly beholden to any kind of Sam timekeeping or pedantics on the schedule or hemming and hawing about visitation) and then lets Sam visit for 30 minutes a day to patch him up. Otherwise, Sam's job is to reinforce the prison from Technoblade--something where he and Quackity are actually on the same page, so Sam is definitely working on that, but he's also trying to rig things up without Quackity's knowledge to get control back of the prison pwetty please. Quackity definitely keeps Sam in one of the other cells when he's not around, for obvious reasons. Sam keeps trying to appeal to him and honestly probably gets punched and shit for it LOL. LMAO. It's a strange and unsettling dynamic for Sam, who has seen something so similar to this before but not quite the same--he's still patching up Dream after sessions, but he's hesitant to ask him to give the book up to Quackity, who has made it quite clear that Sam will see hide or hair of the damn thing if he gets it--nah, he'll just kill Dream and Sam can have his old room, how about that? He's coaching Dream on how to respond to Quackity.

He knows that Dream can endure a lot. It's been an obstacle for so long, but here it works in his favor--he'll get control over the prison and prisoner again, soon. All he's asking from Dream is to endure it--and he already knows that he can.

Quackity isn't barred from permanent damage in quite the same way as he was in canon, but it takes awhile for Sam to really grasp the implications. Here's a post delving into some of the details about the way that the torture progresses--in short, Sam tries to cling to the cope that he and Quackity are on the same side, it's not all that different from the first go around, he can make this work without having to choose one side or the other in a super definitive fashion--until Quackity drives him to the edge and he recognizes that his options are to kill Quackity or to lose Dream, and we all know what happens when it comes to that ultimatum.

After Quackity dies, the dynamic changes quite a bit for Dream and Sam again. Quackity takes Dream's leg, Sam only barely manages to keep him alive through a failsafe he'd installed in his old dispenser system, Quackity dies in a pretty bloody fight with Sam fueled by pure Dream-related desperation and little else. The cell is...a wreck. Sam had been pretty adamant on keeping it more sterile than the first go around, absolutely hating the mess that Quackity and Dream were responsible for, but he's hardly had the time to clean the thing in his half an hour granted for him to do everything he can to keep Dream from bleeding out before Quackity arrives again. His perfect system has been tainted with layers and layers of grime and blood and viscera--Quackity has taken to shit like writing on the walls with Dream's blood, at least in part just to fuck with Sam (Sam tried to have A Conversation with him like he would've in canon about the state of the cell, and Quackity does nawt appreciate Sam's acting like the Warden, especially when he no longer has any power to back up the posturing.) And for Dream...Sam betrayed him, yes, but more recently and more importantly--Sam saved him. Sam protected him. Sam has brought him somewhere light and soft and clean and is telling him no more Quackity, ever again, you're safe, and isn't reacting violently when he behaves erratically and touching him gently and his leg is gone he can't fucking run and Sam saved him.

Sam is around Dream...quite a lot, after all of this. He's um. Well. Clingy, honestly. Being so far removed from the prisoner, what was happening to him, having zero control, often not even being allowed to supervise the visits from the atrium (unless Quackity wanted him there, in which the visit would've been So Obviously a show to fuck with him)--it really was his worst nightmare, in many ways. And Dream is dealing with like, a month or so of horrific trauma on top of almost a year's worth of Sam-related conditioning, and now Sam is being strangely nice and lenient and he's in so much less pain than he's been in a very long time. It's not the best mixing pot of mutual mental illness and codependence and intimacy...at all. Aha. (the c!awesamdreamons get. A LOT WORSE.)

(And well...in canon, there are a lot of reasons not to give up the revive book. There's the plan, the fact that the book preserves his life, the fact that there's no confidence in Quackity for sure or even Sam's investment in keeping Dream alive. Only here, Sam's deal has been so singularly wrapped around Dream much moreso than the book--the book had been a frequent part of interrogations, yes, but so was Tommy, and Ranboo, and the TNT on the prison, and Technoblade, and so on. Here, Dream has suffered through a huge blow to his confidence in the idea that he'll ever make it out, knows that Quackity is pretty damn okay with killing him regardless of the book...knows that he's been sold once before. In the early delirium of being saved by Sam and needing to do something, anything, to make sure that the last month won't happen again--in the reeling from losing his leg and the grappling with the idea that even moreso than he'd already begun to think through JMAH, that he would never make it out of the prison, never see anything but these obsidian walls again--in the knowledge that Sam has lied to him before, pulled the rug from under his feet before, that any and all kindnesses from the Warden were so dependent on what Dream was able or willing to sacrifice, and the fact that he therefore can't be sure that the threat of Quackity is actually gone for good...it's a lot of strain, and the concrete reasons to give up the book are a lot less solid in this scenario. So.)