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la5t-res0rt · 4 years ago

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this was written several weeks ago in response to asks i was receiving i am posting it now it is very long the longest i have ever made and it is not very well edited but here it is in this final essay i talk about how shitty rae is about black people in her writing as well as just me talking about how her writing sucks in general lets begin

hello everyone

as you may know i have received a lot of anons in the last week or so about issues of racism in the beetlejuice community both just generally speaking and also within specific spaces

i was very frustrated to not be getting the answers i wanted because i typically do not talk about what i do not see but in an effort to be better about discourse i went looking through discourse from before my time in the fandom and i also received some receipts and information from my followers and from some friends

keep in mind that the voices and thoughts of bipoc are not only incredibly important at all times but in this circumstance it is important that if a bipoc has something to add you listen and learn and be better

i admit that when this happened i wasnt aware of the extent of what occurred and im angry at myself for not doing more at that time and i want to work harder to make sure something like this doesnt go unnoticed again

im a hesitant to talk about months old discourse because i have been criticized for bringing up quote old new unquote but this is very important and i am willing to face whatever comes from to me

lets talk about this

content from our local racist idiot that may be months old but its important

putting my thoughts under a cut to spare the dash but before i begin obviously this is awful

lets fucking unpack this folks

right out the gate op states that she supports artistic freedom but then within a couple words she goes against that statement

being entirely canon compliant isnt artistic freedom and even so if this person has so much respect for canon they wouldnt be out here erasing lydias obvious disgust for beetlejuice in the movie or ignoring lydias age for the sake of shipping that shit isnt canon either

also we love the quick jab at the musical there hilarious we love it dont we because god forbid a licensed and successful branch on a media have any standing in this conversation but whatever

now lets scroll down and talk about the term racebending

the term racebending was coined around 2009 in response to the avatar the last airbender movie a film in which the east asian races of the characters were erased by casting white actors in the three leading roles of aang sokka and katara

whenever the term racebending is used in a negative light it is almost always a case of whitewashing like casting scarlett johansen in ghost in the shell or the casting of white actors of the prince of persia sands of time instead of iranian ones

this kind of racebending erases minorities from beeing seen in media and is wrong

all that being said however racebending has also been noted to have very positive after effects like the 1997 adaptation of cinderella or casting samuel jackson as nick fury in the marvel movies nick fury was originally a white guy can you even imagine

i read this piece from an academic that said quote writers can change the race and cultural specificity of central characters or pull a secondary character of color from the margins transforming them into the central protagonist unquote

racebending like the kind that rae is so heated about is the kind of creative freedom that leads to more representation of bipoc in media which will never be a bad thing ever no matter how pissy you get about it

designing a version of a character as a poc isnt serving to make them necessarily better it serves to give new perspective and perhaps the opportunity to connect even more deeply with a character it doesnt marginalize or erase white people it can uplift poc and if you think uplifting poc is wrong because it tears down white people or whatever youre a fucking moron and you need to get out of your podunk white folk town and see the real world

the numbers of times a bipoc particularly a bipoc that is also lgbt+ has been represented in media are dwarfed by what i as a white dude have seen myself represented in media is and that isnt okay that isnt equality and its something that should change not only in mainstream media but in fandom spaces as well

lets move down a bit further to the part about bullying straight people which is hilarious and lets also talk about the term fetishistic as well lets start with that

this person literally writes explicit pornography of a minor and an adult are we really going to let someone like that dictate what is and what isnt fetishistic

similarly to doing a positive racebend situation people may project lgbt+ headcanons on a character because its part of who they are and it helps them feel closer to the character and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that

depicting lgbt+ subject matter on existing characters isnt an inherently fetishistic action generally things only really become fetishistic when the media is being crafted and hyped by people who are outside of lgbt+ community for example how young teens used to flip a tit about yaoi or how chasers fetishize trans people

but drawing a character with top surgery scars or headcanoning them as trans is harmless and its just another way to interpret a character literally anone could be trans unless if their character bio says theyre cis and most of them dont go that deep so it really is open to interpretation and on the whole most creators encourage this sort of exploration because it is a good thing to get healthy representation out in the world

as for it being used to bully straights thats just funny i dont have anything else on that like if youre straight and you feel threatened and bullied because of someone headcanoning someone as anything that isnt cishet youre a fucking idiot and a weak baby idiot at that like the real world must fucking suck for you because lgbt+ people are everywhere and statistically a big chunk of your favorite characters arent cishet sorry be mad about it

lets roll down a bit further about the big meat of the issue which was when several artists were drawing interpretations of lydia as a black girl which i loved but clearly this person didnt love it because they have a very narrow and very racist and problematic view of what it means to be a black person

and before i move forward i must reiderate that i am a white person and you should listen to the thoughts of poc people like @fright-of-their-lives or @gender-chaotic it is not my place to explain what the black experience is like and it certainly isnt this persons either

implying that the story of a black person isnt worth telling unless if the character faces struggles like racism and prejudice is downright moronic

why use the word kissable to describe a black persons lips now thats what i call fetishistic and its to another extreme if youre talking about a black version of lydia on top of that

the author of this post says herself that shes white so clearly shes the person whos an authority on the black experience and what it means to be a black person right am i reading that right or am i having a fucking conniption

how about allowing black characters to exist without having to struggle why cant a black version of lydia just be a goth teenager with a ghost problem who likes photography and is also black like she doesnt have to move to a hick town and get abused by racist folks she doesnt have to go through any more shit than she already goes through and if you honestly think thats the only way to tell a black persons story you need to get your brain cleaned

you know nothing about the complexities about being a black person and i dont either but you know wh odo black people who are doing black versions of canon characters they fucking know

lets squiggle down just a bit further

so the writer has issues with giving characters traits like a broad nose or larger lips if theyre a woman but if theyre a man suddenly its totally okay to go all ryan murphy ahs coven papa legba appropriation when approaching character design like are you fucking stupid do you hear yourself is that really how you see black men like what the fuck is wrong with you

none of the shit youre spewing takes bravery it takes ignorance and supreme levels of stupidity

do you really think you with your fic where a black lgbt+ woman is tortured and abused where you use the n word with a hard r to refer to her like that shits not okay its fucking depraved and yeah we know you love being shitty but like christ on a bike thats so much

can we also talk about this

what the fuck is this fetishistic bull roar garbage calling this black character beyonce dressing her up in quote fuck me heels unquote are you are you seriously gonna write this and say its a shining example of how to write a black character youre basically saying ope here she is shes a sex icon haha im so progressive and i clealry understand the black experience hahahaha fuck you oh my god

on top of that theres a point where this character is only referred to as curly hair or the fact that the n word is used in the fic with the hard r like thats hands down not okay for you to use especially not in a manner like this jesus christ

oop heres a little more a sampling for you of the hell i am enduring in reading this drivel

oh boy lets put a leash on the angry black woman character lets put her in a leash and have the man imply hes a master like are you kidding me are you for real and what the fuck is with calling her shit like j lo and beyonce do you actually think thats clever at all are you just thinking of any poc that comes into your head for this

also lydia fucking tells this girl that she shouldnt have lost her temper like she got fucking leashed im so tired why is this writing so problematic and also so bad

hold up before i lose my head lets look at some of her own comments on the matter of this character and what happens to her

hi hello youre just casually tossing the word lynch out there in the wide open world as if thats not a problem that is still real like are you fucking unhinged there have been multiple cases of this exact thing happening in our firepit of a country in the last five months alone like how can you still have shit like this up for people to read how can you be proud of work like this in this climate

and also what the fuck is that last bit

what the actual fuck

i dont speak for black people as a white person but you do!? im sorry i had to get my punctuation out for that because wow thats fucking asinine just because one black person read your fic and didnt find the torture and abuse of your one black character abhorrant doesnt mean that the vast majority of people not only in the fandom but in the human population with decency are going to think its okay because its not

i started this post hoping to be level headed and professional but jesus fucking christ this woman is something else white nationalism is alive and well folks and its name is rae

if you defend this woman you defend some truly abhorrant raecism

editors notes

in order to get some perspective on these issues more fully some of the writing by the author was examined and on the whole it was pretty unreadable but i want to just call back to the very beginning of this essay where the person in question talked about holding canon in high regard but then in their writing they just go around giving people magic and shit and ignoring the end of the movie entirely like are you canon compliant or nah

the writing doesnt even read like beetlejuice fanfic it reads as self indulgent fiction you could easily change the names and its just a bad fanfic from 2007

also can we talk about writing the lesbian character as an angry man hater like its 2020 dude and als olets touch on that girl on girl pandering while beetlejuice is just there like here we go fetishizing again wee

i cant find a way to work this into this already massive post but

im going to throw up

okay so thats a lot we have covered a lot today and im sure my ask box will regret it but this definitely should have been more picked apart when it happened

please feel free to add more to this i would love more perspectives than just my own.

#long post #racism #raecism #im so tired #thanks for reading

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manifestoonmoralmanlove · 6 years ago

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Help I’m being harassed by the #1 sexeist man! Review

Sorry I had this mostly finished on the backburner for awhile but Soulless grabbed my attention pretty hard. BUT NOW THIS IS FINISHED! I hope you enjoy!

Summarize

So the story is as follows…Takato is an actor who was voted Japan’s sexiest man for a few years in a row. However his title is usurped by this dude named Junta that he’s working on a new movie with. Takato is salty about this but is professional about it and just kinda harbors secret bitter feelings. He is polite to and gives advice to Junta when asked. Junta invites him out to drinks, Takato doesn’t want to but everyone within a 5 mile radius swoops in to pressure him into it so he caves.

GOD WHY IS THAT A THING? That for sure happened in Love Stage and I’m sure I’ve seen that trope elsewhere. Where not just a 3rd party will pressure a reluctant uke but like a fucking horde of strangers with nothing to gain from it just crawl out from under the fucking floor boards like little hack-handy roaches to advance this shitty plot.

ANYWAY!

Junta gets Takato drunk, films embarrassing stuff that he threatens to blackmail him with, and a fucking horror scene of a rape ensues. Like, not dissimilar from Junjou in the fact that the atmosphere is drawn as oppressive, the uke is riddled with very palatable fear, the seme wears crazed expressions, and behaves violently. Hell, Takato manages to shove him off and tries to lock himself in the bathroom for his own safety but Junta rips the door off its fucking hinges. Takato PLEADS like BEGS for him not to but he is violently raped against the wall while Takato cries saying OUT LOUD that THIS IS RAPE! Afterwards he’s crying and shaking, talking out loud about how he’s frightened if others find out and feeling humiliated.

Junta picks him up and is like, “Man I guess I got carried away, but like REAL TALK I have a crush on you. The rape was kinda bad I guess, but it’s not my fault cause I literally cannot control any of my actions. I can prove I like you by having gentle sex with you in the bed.”

Takato agrees to this.

I BEG YOUR FUCKING PARDON?!

The implication here is that Junta just looked SO SWEET! But like also it wasn’t gentle sex at all and Junta is going to continue to blackmail him. HAR HAR!

Like here is a hot fucking take authors and fans of this particular type of garbage… that kind of writing does not make this more consensual and okay.

Like if you threw a dude in a pit full of scorpions, and he is being stung by a thousand stingers and the poison is slowly and painfully shutting down all of his bodily functions and it’s all really gruesome…but then someone asks if he wants to be saved and the dude in the pit goes from screaming in agony to saying, “Actually I like it down here.”

Does that mean being pushed into that pit, and what he went through in that pit is okay? NO

What does him suddenly wanting to marry all of those 1000 scorpions mean?

IT MEANS YOU’RE A FUCKING HACK WRITER WILLFULLY CONTRIBUTING TO RAPE CULTURE FOR A QUICK BUCK YOU HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Like you can have your stories where a rapist is redeemed from his awful actions, but more often than not I see these fucking outrageous hairpin fucking turns in writing.

I mean, Junta does apologize? Which is better than some semes but honestly I’d rather him not even bother because he’s not sincere. He apologizes all the time for the sex acts he puts Takato through but goes on to blackmail him, hurts him, abducts him, and threatens him to his face with more rape. LIKE NOT EXACTLY FEELING AS IF YOU TOTES CARE ABOUT HOW HE FEELS ABOUT ALL THIS, BOYO!

The next chapter while they’re being filmed for the show Takato throws him against the wall and hijacks the dialog to make it sound sexually threatening. Takato IN HIS MIND ADMITS “DAMN HE’S ACTUALLY USING ENOUGH FORCE TO HURT ME!!!!” So after this shot, Takato gives Junta some advice and makes no shit, this fucking face…

And that…face, (improperly attached to what I presume is a series of straws coated in plaster masquerading as a neck) gives Junta that GOTTA RAPE NOW BONER!

So that’s what happens, he just violently drags off a kicking and screaming Takato in the middle of shooting and no one bats a fucking eye. SEEMS LEGIT! What’s baffling to me is they don’t even draw a sex scene for this.

MY BRO, WHAT IS EVEN THE FUCKING POINT THAN OF ALL THESE RAPE SCENERIOS IF THERE AREN’T HIDEOUS MELTING FACES AND WACKY INFLATABLE TUBE MAN BODIES TO GO WITH IT!?

But afterwards Junta says the classic creepy shit, “Give up already and become mine. I have no intention of giving you to someone else.” WE KNOW THE DRILL!

Takato looks up at Junta and goes, “Yeah guess I love this dude.”

AND LIKE FOR WHAT? FOR HUH? WHAT’S GOING ON HERE!?!!??!?!?!?!?

But also, are you fucking joking here? Like I’m not into the 10 volumes of “Am I gay or not?” bullshit we get in yaoi. But, depending on the pace and characterization, there’s nothing wrong with dragging out the love being 100% mutual. Here’s it’s in chapter fucking 2. Even Junjou went at a slower pace than that. When I read that I couldn’t help feeling like, “WELL WHAT’S THE CONFLICT IN THE NEXT 3 AND A HALF VOLUMES GOING TO BE?”

Which, admittedly is unfair, there can be lots of relationship conflict outside of mutually expressed love…However for a rapist/tsundere dynamic? That’s usually at least 75% of the conflict. But oh, maybe this means we’re going to get different kinds of drama! So even while it’s not good, we’re going to get something different!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

It’s utter NOT-CONFLICT is what we end up with. 3 different chapters are, “I haven’t seen much of him, that must mean he’s bored of me. Wah! Oh it turns out he was just busy. Oh that’s good.” PAGING FUCKING JUNJOU WITH THAT SUPER FUN, ENGAGING, AND INTERESTING CONFLICT HARDY FUCKING HAR!

Then we take a hard right into sorta worst rapist territory. What do you mean by SORTA worst rapist Faps?

Well……

There’s a new actor Takato is working with and this new actor, and the new actor’s coding as a bad guy is about as subtle as a punch to the mouth. So new actor gets Takato drunk enough for him to pass out, gives him a hickey and ????????????

2 things happen in these situations in yaoi typically

1.) SOMEHOW the seme MAGICS his way there beats up the worst rapist

2.) This happens after the uke and seme have a fight. So uke realizes how mean he was for not being 100% down with all the seme’s shitty behavior cause there is a worst rapist out there. He runs crying to the seme apologizing and conflict solved.

We sorta get the 2nd here…but not in a straight-forward way. For one there is no fight beforehand to set up any kind of relationship development. What happens is that Takato wakes up mortified at the possibility he was raped while he was asleep. He staggers around both in denial and utter shame. Seme shows up and like only adds to this panic by yanking him around, forcefully washing his body, and screaming that his SLUTTY, SLUTTY FACE MANIPULATES MEN into raping him. The seme tells him that they don’t have to have sex. Which good, but I mean the scene is not framed as if Takato is doing this out of kindness but almost as a dare. The implication being if Takato doesn’t consent that he is the OTHER MAN’S BOY NOW and they should just break up. So there is implicit pressure there, but he does seem to initial consent. Yet during the sex Takato internally cries about how much he hates it because his boyfriend is hate fucking him but he can’t say NO because than his boyfriend will hate him more.

LIKE FUCKING BIG YIKES MY FRIEND! IT’S SUPER UNCOMFORTABLE!

Which like, I could see a post-assault sex scene full of the emotional intensity of the anger, guilt, shame, fear all intermingling within both of them working well. (Not that post assault consensual sex is much of a thing.) That they’re trying not to think of what Takato went through but it’s eating at both of them. THAT COULD BE A REALLY INTENSE, WELL DONE SCENE! However this is framed like seme ~taking back what’s his~ in a really cold, pissed-off way that’s AT BEST really insensitive to what the uke just went through and his current emotional state. While Takato ~letting him~ cause he’s afraid his bf hates him for getting raped by someone not him. Junta also disappears without a word, making Takato fear that YEP HIS BF DON’T WANT HIM CAUSE HE’S DAMAGED GOODS NOW!

But who has to apologize? THE UKE!

Also it turns out Takato was not raped cause worst rapist couldn’t get it up after Takato said his bf’s name in his sleep. This is framed as better not cause of what the uke went through, but he didn’t really CHEAT so Junta can forgive him.

LIKE REALLY MY DUDE? YOU STARTED THIS OFF WRITTEN TAKATO MORE REALISTICALLY DEALING WITH THE DENIAL, DISGUST, AND SHAME OF ASSUALT AND INSTEAD JUST DEGRADED INTO THE SAME VICTIM-BLAMING HORSESHIT! GET FUCKED!

So the resolution is that the relationship is fixed and Junta threatens and blackmails the rapist. Which, I’m glad he didn’t get off scot-free but those interactions felt less like protecting the safety of Takato and more like, HE’S MY PROPERTY NO TOUCHY!

So from here we take a big turn.

Most of the 3rd volume is a big back-track to the beginning of their relationship before it was romantic or sexual. And boy howdy it feels like a retcon for the fuck awful pace of the 1st volume.

Basically it’s about how Junta became obsessed with Takato while working on a movie cause idk he’s pretty and he accidently heard Takato say something shitty about him once. While I wouldn’t call this good the fact that they actually let this blooming of affection take place makes it the best chapters so far.

Like at the end Junta resolves himself to let his feelings be known and to start a romantic relationship with Takato. Without the context, that felt like almost sweet? That he’s accepted his gay feelings and wants to share his life with Takato. However if you REMEMBER THE CONEXT it means that Junta planned to drug, blackmail, and rape Takato WHICH YANNO REALLY TAKES A SHIT ON YOUR CUTE LITTLE FEATHERS BLOWING IN A BREEZE TO GO WITH HIS CUTSY MONOLOG YOU SHIT-SUCKER!

But lordy the next chapter comes along which is a retelling of this prequel from Takato perspective. The only saving grace here is that it’s not nearly as long as Junta’s. Basically Takato realizes that Junta is OUT for him, and has a fucking frightened panic attack in his car afterwards. He’s literally shaking and monologing about how scary the situation and Junta are. And this isn’t me even inferring words in Takato’s head, he repeats scary over and over. Takato even decides to over book himself so he’ll have fewer chances to interact with Junta. So he does the classic ~pass-out from overwork~ thing so Junta can save him and from here we immediately transition to,

Oh now it’s modern day and they’re banging…..okay????? VOLUME ENDS

The next plot point comes down to this:

Paparazzi are OUT TO GET THEM! There is a photo leaked that isn’t really suggestive at all and Takato pretty much loses his job for it. However Takato finds out there is a much more damning picture of him and Junta, so he decides to break up with Junta, and like…just literally do whatever the paparazzi wants in order to protect Junta. But like, what’s the point of hiding it from Junta? And if this dude is going to blackmail you, what are you going to do to make sure their demands end or don’t get to the point that they’re unfeasible to continue giving in to them?

HAHA OH WELL!

Takato doesn’t even get to see the paparazzi again, his producer finds out and sexually assaults him to PROVE A POINT!

AND BOY HOWDY I’M WAY INTO THAT TROPE! LOOKING AT YOU OURAN HOST CLUB!

Cause HAHA nobody could literally want anything out of a wealthy, well-connected actor other than gay rape amirite?

Meanwhile Junta is cultivating a rumor that he’s having an affair with an actress. Cause of fucking course Junta figured that the only reason his boyfriend (whom is often upset at how shitty he gets treated by him) is an elaborate ploy to protect him from the paparazzi. But you know OF COURSE we see the actress and Junta flirting a bunch to stir the pot in a private setting but like…they only need to be seen on an outside date once. This means that he’s fucking lying if he says that he only did it to SAVE BOTH OF THEM FROM THE PAPARAZZI. He was getting a kick out of it, which I think you could argue that he was being unfaithful or in the very least being a fucking dick about it.

But, Junta goes on TV and says that he’s not having an affair with the actress or with Takato but he is moving in with Takato.

Yeah nothing dispels rumors of an intimate relationship like the announcement that they’re MOVING IN TOGETHER! Now, as I understand it, the housing market is very different in Japan from the west and therefore it’s less of a huge TELL of an intimate relationship if two people move in together. But even if that’s the case, saying you’re moving in with someone you’re accused of having an affair with…is not helping my friend.

However it is phrased this way, and immediately the entirety of the media believes this whole-heartedly, and the paparazzi guy (despite having a much more damning picture he hasn’t released) is like, “Wowzers he’s so smart, he has BEAT ME! I’m giving up being paparazzi. That man CHANGED MY LIFE FOR THE BETTER! HOW COULD I EVER THANK HIM!?” Even the fucking company that hired this paparazzi guy is like, “WELL I’M TAKING MY BUSINESS IN A NEW BETTER DIRECTION! THAT JUNTA GUY SURE, SHOWED ME!!!!”

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING!? You might as well have every criminal in Japan throw their hands up going, “WELL GOLLY! DID YOU SEE HOW GREAT THE ACTUAL RAPIST AND ABUSER JUNTA IS? BEST NEVER DO A BAD THING EVER AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

GO EAT EVERY DICK!!!!

That’s pretty much the end up to this point. I mean, there are some odds and ends chapters here and there but they’re pretty much excuses for sex chapters. And like, even though those are pretty rapey, I kinda respect them more than when you attempts to interject some semblance of relationship drama, cause holy hell that paparazzi shit ugh.

Though if you’ll allow a side rant from me about how the story treats sexual assault. According to the author it comes in a lot of flavors and most of them are awful.

For one: if it’s a hunky guy who loves you: Rape is great.

For two: if it’s a hunky guy but you already have a rapist errr boyfriend: You’re cheating.

For three: if you’re being obnoxiously sexually harassed by your superior….BUT YOUR PRODUCER IS AN OLDER EFFEMINATE GAY MAN: It’s hilarious and harmless and helps cement your Marty-stuness.

For four: if a woman is being groomed by a superior: It’s a bad thing that should be stopped.

3 and 4 happen within the same chapter but the author is so oblivious at the hypocrisy of the framing it’s absurd.

Story

Okay so the story is a mess. The relationship progression goes way too fast for it to make sense, and negates a lot of the drama you could have had. It’s possible that the editors wanted sex ASAP for some kinda quota, and that’s not necessarily bad. But it really burns my biscuits when people think, “Oh that means lead with rape and that they’ll be in mutual love by chapter 2.”

Sure most tsundere stories have a bit more lead up until the uke can confess he likes the seme back but this is not the right way to break that mold. The hairpin turn makes no sense and neuters a lot of potential conflict.

It puts the comic in a pacing hole to start and the rest of the story does little to mitigate this. I think there was an attempt to rectify this by going back to the story BEFORE they were a couple. However that was horrible botched as well. It brings the pacing to a screeching halt with a volume of Junta being like “OH NO HE’S HOTTTTTTTTTTT” despite the time devoted they do very little to give them an actual relationship or investment in his personality. It’s all a one-sided pining boner for hideous wiggle mouth.

The content of the writing is just embarrassing too. I can be a more forgiving in the sex-excuse side chapters. But like there’s a side chapter when Junta is magiked into a child and for like what? So we can coo, that the author drawing a small snowman with a poorly defined face and pretending it’s a child is super adorable?

So we can excuse the shitty way Junta behaves? Is anybody weirded out that 3 year old Junta is more thoughtful and respectful than his adult-self? YOU CAN’T EVEN WRITE HOW CHILDREN BEHAVE YOU STUPID SIMP! UGH!!!!

But also the arc on the paparazzi just ended in a total train-wreck of awful writing no question.

Sexual politics:

They’re fucking atrocious here.

1.) The first scene is framed as a brutal rape but 30 seconds later its fine and they’re in love.

2.) The handling of the ~worst rapist~ trope with big buckets of victim blaming and as if Takato was ~cheating~ is horrendous.

3.) The worst rapist is also a sex worker. So we’re framing sex workers as bad people and sex work as a bad thing. BUT GOLLY KEEP DRAWING GRAPHIC SEX SCENCES!

4.) The sexually predator producer of Junta being framed as harmless cause he’s effeminate is god fucking awful. It’s also this bizarre homophobic double standard that this man (and by extension his gay brother) are a joke because they behave stereotypically gay and aren’t ashamed of being effeminate. MEN ARE ONLY HOT IF THEY ACT LIKE PREDATORS IN A MANLY WAY, OR ARE ASHAMED OF ANY SEXUAL SUBMISSIVE OR EFFEMINATE TRAITS THEY HAVE! I LOVE WATCHING MAN ON MAN SEX BUT SO HELP ME GOD IF THEY’RE ~GAY ABOUT IT!~

5.) They ~sorta~ take sexual harassment seriously when a female actor is being groomed. Like they joke about it but also DO SOMETHING TO STOP IT really fucking muddles what we’re supposed to think about sexual abuse at all here.

6.) Takato’s producer sexually assaults him to ~prove a point~ that Takato is putting himself in situations where rape COULD happen. The fuck is this horseshit! “These men could do the very bad thing of raping you. Let me demonstrate what that bad thing looks like cause I’m sure you’re UNAWARE!” THE FUCK!? Also this sexual assault is framed more seriously than Junta’s producer because this producer is coded as MORE ATTRACTIVE and less openly QUEER! ONCE AGAIN I EXCLAIM! THE FUCK!?

7.) Takato OPENLY describes Junta as scary and calls his acts stalking, kidnapping, bullying, blackmail, threats, and rape. He also tries to actively avoid his boyfriend at times, yet are we not to take ANY of this seriously? Are we not to take this seriously cause this behavior is acceptable when the one dolling it out is attractive and charming? Are we not to take it seriously because we can’t except Takato to be honest about how he feels about any of this? I don’t believe in given a blanket free-pass when Takato doesn’t consistently express desire in Junta’s abusive tendencies. Like maybe you can argue some of the sex is consensual but can you argue that Takato is into the blackmail, when he never mentions he likes it? Can you argue he’s into the non-stop attention when he SOMETIMES BEGRUDINGLY admits he enjoys it? If so does just that get a blanket pass?

JUST UGH! YOU’VE GUYS HAVE PROBABLY HEARD THIS RANT FROM ME BEFORE I FUCKING HATE TSUNDERE SEXUAL POLITICS!

Characters

Takato

Okay so Takato. What’s this dude’s deal?

Okay let’s start with some boring basics: He’s a hard-working actor who strives to be professional. He’s a perfectionist, who seems to easily and joyfully take on the role of mentor/protector. He does seem to take himself too seriously at times. He appears to subtly prod at people who have wronged him or others rather than confront them directly. He’s also shown to be a tsundere with a submissive streak.

There’s nothing bad on its face about this characterization. However Takato is described as an intelligent professional actor, with years of experience. Yet his handling of the paparazzi thing is pretty much he goes to shit and opens him up to more rape cause lol hot. I could maybe understand this characterization if the paparazzi thing really hit Takato on a personal level and he made some irrational choices due to feeling as if he was being attacked or that he was going to permanently lose his job.

However he is shown as calm, as he’s making these choices and openly states that he will gladly give up a career he worked so hard for if it would save Junta’s career. Did he not, even for a second consider he could save both of them? This is not consistent with his characterization and it exists to put Junta on a pedestal he does not deserve.

SPEAKING OF…

Junta

So…this fucking guy. Junta is a young up and coming actor with early success. He’s shown to be an impulsive, passionate person who relies heavily on an ~angelic charm.~ He has no shame in using calculated, underhanded methods in order to achieve his goals. He is shown as impatient, has a temper, and is openly disrespectful to his partner.

Yet the world fawns over him with praise for how attractive, charming, and ~resourceful~ he is. He is described as having a few low wage jobs out of high school and therefore he’s an expert in EVERYTHING FOREVER!

I believe they were trying to humorously contrast Junta having a sweet, innocent angelic charm, with the reality of him being an aggressive a-hole. However they do not frame the aggressive a-hole side of him as bad but rather as HOT. Like I GET THAT on some level but since he’s a manipulative, abusive, rapist, it just reminds me of all the REAL LIFE INDIVIDUALS who put on a good face for the public but to their partner they’re monsters.

Art

I legit hate this fucking art. Like straight up and down, I have a hard time even reading it on a visual level. Like the anatomy is OKAY and the backgrounds are OKAY but a lot of it is less than okay. The worst culprits are the character designs, the necks, and the expressions.

I am so done with mediocre artists churning out, not only same-faced characters compared to their own art, but characters that are basically same-faced compared to the main-stream. The only thing unique here is that Junta has dark hair underneath his lighter brown hair. OH GOLLY! It’s so fucking bland and Junta’s got best seme in the Chil Chil awards and I’m so salty about that I could give the dead sea a run for its money. UGH!

The necks are super long, thin, twisty, sharp angels, and with her sad attempts at tendons it looks as if they’re constantly tense. And in worst case scenarios they don’t look as if they’re attached to even half of the chin. Yeesh!

The expressions…fucking lord. In the best of times, the facial spacing is just bad, with eyes and mouths off center, and ears too low. The author has no concept of how lips/faces work so all the kisses are REAL BAD. It’s either just like…triangles smashed at each other, no lips involved, or they’re like 1 foot apart layering their tongues on each other like they’re building a fucking sandwich.

The worst of times is Takato’s sex faces. THEY MAKE ME WANT TO VOMIT-SCREAM!

Basically he squints and his eyes get so watery it looks as if they replaced his eyeballs with just well…water. You can’t make out pupils, irises, NOTHING! But the mouths are the pinnacle of puke-inducing. They’re these enormous squigglies with no rhyme or reason, just oozing saliva like a breach in a dam. At best they’re cartoonish in an unerotic way. THESE SQUIGGLES! I CAN’T STAND THEM! YUCK!

TL;DR

Poorly drawn and written Rapist/Tsundere garbage. While it doesn’t hit EVERY little overplayed trope, it’s still pretty cliché. Just, it’s similar and up there with Junjou in the shitty department if you ask me.

#Dakaretai Otoko Ichii ni Odosarete Imasu #Help I’m being harassed by the 1 sexeist man!#review #comic critique saturday

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3rdgymbros · 7 years ago

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brutality runs in our blood

A/N: This is a secret santa present for @nekoumyu! Merry Christmas, dear and I hope you enjoy this! ( @bkdksecretsanta )

Read it on AO3 and Fanfiction.

“Deku.”

Bakugou’s voice and the feel of his hands sliding under his shirt pulls Izuku from the haze of sleep. Still groggy from morphine, the throbbing in his arms and legs momentarily dulled, Izuku mumbles a token protest as he’s shifted onto his side, and then the heat of Bakugou’s body is warming his back. One of his muscular arms wraps around Izuku’s waist, tucking him close.

Spooned with him, the biceps of his other arm hard beneath his freckled cheek, Izuku slides back into blissful unconsciousness.

When Izuku wakes again, it feels like days later. He lies on their shared sleigh bed with his eyes closed for long minutes, soaking in the reassuring warmth of Bakugou’s body and breathing in the air that smells of him – blood, ashes and the spicy scent of his skin – an eclectic mix that Izuku’s come to associate with his Kacchan. After a while, Izuku decides that he’s gotten enough rest; the combined exhaustion and pain from getting shot in all four limbs had taken their toll, and sleeping longer would only throw off his body clock even more.

“Kacchan?” Izuku mumbles, sleep roughening his voice. His mind feels clouded with fog, which he chalks up to the effect of the morphine flowing through his veins. “That you?”

“No, it’s hair for brains.” Bakugou grumbles, but his retort lacks its usual bite. Bakugou buries his face in Izuku’s hair, inhaling the sweet smell of his shampoo. “Yeah, it’s me. Who else would it be?”

Izuku huffs out a weak laugh. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

Bakugou growls, attacks his neck with tickling nips and kisses that draws a rusty-sounding laugh out of Izuku. It feels good to laugh, even if for just a little while. “You look like shit, by the way. The fuck happened to you?”

Izuku’s known Bakugou for a long time, long enough to pick up the underlying nuances in his voice, try as he might to hide them. Bakugou knows what happened at USJ, but wants to hear it from him. And so, after wrapping his arms over Bakugou’s and snuggling into him, Izuku tells him.

“Everything was going so well, but those damned pros showed up,” Izuku finishes bitterly. “They got Nomu, and all I got for my trouble was a body full of bullets.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. It won’t happen again.” That’s enough to pull Izuku up short. Bakugou never apologizes; the fact that he wasn’t there for the attack at USJ must be tearing him up more than Izuku’s realised. His fingers draw gentle circles across Izuku’s stomach, caressing him through the silk of his shirt. “If it makes you feel any better, I took care of him.”

Izuku twists around to look at Bakugou. A slow smile spreads across his face. “You didn’t.”

“I did.” Bakugou’s answering smile is sharp and feral. “Left it with the Black Mist.”

“That does make me feel better.” Something new to add to his collection of heroes. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you.”

Izuku looks toward the windows and sees that night has fallen. “What time is it?”

“A little after eight.”

“What time did you get in?”

“Half past six.”

Izuku wriggles around to face him. “Early for you, hmm?”

“You were shot.” Bakugou says gruffly, refusing to answer the unspoken question.

But Izuku can easily draw his own conclusions.

“You were worried, Kacchan.” Izuku gloats, his voice glowing with triumph. “Come on now, don’t be shy. Admit it.”

Bakugou glares, but doesn’t deny it. Izuku one, Kacchan zero. “Yaoi Hands needs you at the hideout in an hour.”

“Great.”

He’s always found meeting new people to be fun. On days when Izuku is feeling particularly sadistic, he’ll casually drag out their deepest, darkest secrets, hit them in the place where it hurts the most. Watching how their faces pale when Izuku hits them with knowledge that he shouldn’t have access to is always entertaining and never fails to fill him with a vindictive pleasure, the joy of plucking wings off a helpless butterfly.

But not today when he feels like death warmed up.

“Bad news?”

“New kids to babysit.” Izuku drawls out lazily, dropping a quick kiss onto Bakugou’s mouth. “Play nice with them, won’t you, Kacchan?”

An hour later, Izuku finds himself perched atop a bar stool, his notebooks and two pinkish-coloured iced drinks in square tumblers splayed out on the shiny bar table in front of him. Bakugou settles on the seat beside Izuku, his arm draped behind Izuku so that his fingertips can brush casually and possessively up and down his arm.

One hot shower and a change of bandages later and Izuku feels almost human again. It might also have something to do with the hefty dose of Tylenol currently swimming through his system.

“Knock knock!” Itsuka opens the door with a flourish and a cloud of scent that smells like the inside of a bakery. Something sweet, with a hint of vanilla. She’s smiling, her pale, freckled face glowing against her halo of orange hair. Izuku takes that as a good sign. “I’ve brought the new recruits!”

After a cursory glance at the new additions – a glance more like a glower which is returned with equal coolness – Bakugou has turned his attention back to his own drink with calculated nonchalance, but Izuku knows that he’s studying the two intently – checking for clues, answers, unspoken things that night be useful to them.

The girl – Uraraka Ochako, Izuku’s mind supplies helpfully – has a heart-shaped face, with a clear, porcelain complexion, a strong chin, straight brows, and peach-blushed cheeks. Her eyes are caramel and match her hair perfectly. She’s dressed in a UA uniform ( how interesting, Izuku thinks ), but her girlish and innocent appearance belies the mania dancing in her eyes and the powers at the edges of her fingertips.

Her introduction is short and to the point – “I’m here ‘cause I need money. I wanna give my parents a better life.”

Fine. Cash in exchange for information. It’s not an unusual arrangement; Izuku can work with this. It’ll be useful to have a spy in UA, keeping tabs on the movements of the Pro Heroes. Easier to plan for the next surprise they have in store. Izuku nods because she seems to be waiting for a reaction.

The other one is far harder to read.

The boy – it’s frustrating to admit, but Izuku virtually has no information on him – is tall, a good foot of sturdy height on Izuku. A scar mars the otherwise paleness of his skin. Mismatched eyes of blue and brown, filled with the darkness and hatred that Izuku’s come to expect from a boy who’s spent all his life thriving in the dark. He lingers by the door, his hands shoved into his pockets.

His introduction is just as direct. “Shouto.”

Izuku raises an eyebrow. “Not very talkative, hmm?”

Shouto doesn’t reply.

“He’s pissing me off,” Bakugou announces, loud and grating as he tosses half his drink back in one go. “Shitty Half and Half.”

The temperature in the room drops.

Shouto’s eyes are narrowed into thin, angry slits, the only other outward sign of his displeasure . . . Is this what it takes to get genuine emotion out of him? How interesting. He files that knowledge away for later. Izuku slips his hand into Bakugou’s before the ash blond can explode and digs his nails into Bakugou’s palm. Hard.

“Now, now, Kacchan!” Izuku chirps, trying to diffuse the tension that settles over the room like a shroud. His tone is friendly, his eyes anything but. “What did I say about playing nice with others?”

Izuku’s message is clear – continue acting up and receive a lecture later, or suck it up and escape punishment. Bakugou gnashes his teeth together, but settles for glaring at Shouto, as though trying to kill him with the force of his gaze.

How childish, Izuku thinks fondly.

He knows the best way to calm Bakugou down, though.

Leaning over, Izuku kisses him. Bakugou’s mouth is cold and flavoured with alcohol-laced cranberry. Delicious. Izuku shoves a hand into ash blond hair and clenched it tight, holding him still so that he can't turn away. He bites the tongue that Bakugou thrusts aggressively into his mouth, then his lower lip, tasting blood.

He’s the first to pull away with a sigh.

Bakugou follows, nuzzling the side of Izuku’s face, his lips brushing over his ear. Bakugou’s breathing hard, too, and the sound of the ice in his tumbler clinking against the glass skitters across Izuku’s inflamed senses.

Panting, his stomach clenching in anticipation for what will inevitably happen later, Izuku breaths out a taunting, “Be good, Kacchan.”

It elicits an animalistic growl from Bakugou, and Izuku bubbles out a laugh, amused despite himself.

Itsuka clears her throat.

“Well?” She asks brightly, as if she hadn’t just seen that very public display of affection. Mentally, Izuku tells himself to give her a raise. She deserves it. “How ‘bout it, boss?”

Izuku smiles. It is not kind. It is one of jagged edges, of bared teeth and sharpened claws. “Welcome to the League of Villains.”

#bakudeku #bakudeku fanfic #fanfiction #katsudeku #bnha #nekoumyu #bkdksecretsanta #ＴＥＬＬＵＳＡＳＴＯＲＹＯＦＷＨＡＴＷＥＯＮＣＥＫＮＥＷ | my fanfiction

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youngmrkusuma · 8 years ago

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The Naekawa Project - Part 6: Genocider Syo’s Excellent Adventure

Link to AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11529537

Summary: For everyone who wanted a story for Syo. Takes place a year or so after ‘Why the Streams Are Bitter’

Right! Some quick admin before we begin; Earlier this year, I mentioned in this

post

that I was working on a fic that would involve more of the DR cast members. Unfortunately, this isn’t it (although there are a couple of guest appearances here). I decided to push that one back because I wasn’t getting anywhere with it, and because I had a new idea that I was itching to get on paper.

And so here we are.

Now, it should be noted that even though this story does involve Syo, it’s fairly light-hearted and silly. Hope that’s alright. I was getting a bit weary of writing angst and needed a break.

“Compromise” was not an unfamiliar term for Fukawa; living with shitty parents and going to school with shitty classmates had taught her early on that you can’t always have what you want in life. At least, not without giving something up first. She had learnt that sometimes, for the sake of keeping things civil, it was better to just calm down and let things go. To let others have their way. Sometimes, as her boyfriend was wont to do, it was better to just smile and take your problems in stride.

This, was not one of those times.

Even after her other half had agreed to stop killing people, dealing with Syo was still a complete and utter nightmare. Yet Fukawa did her best to be patient. She tried to forgive occasionally opening her closet to find stacks of those vile, X-rated BL doujins that Syo liked to read so much spilling out from a corner. She didn’t mind having her laptop’s hard disk space be taken up by gigabyte after gigabyte of shameless yaoi porn, as long as they were stored somewhere she couldn’t see. She ignored the fact that her internet browser history and favourites bar was full of links to dubious and crassly named websites.

But Fukawa had to draw a line somewhere. And she decided yesterday that she knew right where to put it.

Naegi, who was lending her a sympathetic ear, asked “What did she do this time?”

Fukawa’s cheeks went scarlet. “It’s… um… better if I showed you.”

She went over to her desk and turned on her laptop. As soon as the Desktop wallpaper loaded, Naegi understood. A strangled ‘Oh!’ escaped him and he started blushing as well.

Several youthful individuals. All males. Expressions of pure ecstasy. Naked, alabaster skin. And seed. Everywhere. Lots of it.

A swatch of memory came to him unbidden; the voice of a screeching young man in a youtube video imploring his audience to please “Don’t watch an anime called Boku”. Fukawa slammed the screen shut once Naegi comprehended what he was seeing. His face would stay red throughout their conversation.

“…Well,” he managed, after a moment. “That’s extreme.”

"It-It’s horrible!“ She pulled at her hair. “I-Imagine w-waking up one morning to find that waiting for you!”

As soon as she had seen what Syo had done, Fukawa had grabbed her smartphone and navigated straight to the voice recorder app – the primary mode of communication between the two personalities – and left a heated message on it, about the importance of boundaries and not overstepping them. Then she stuck a post-it note that read 'For Syo’ to the phone and made herself sneeze.

When Fukawa regained consciousness some fifteen minutes later, she found an equally heated message waiting for her.

“You never let me have any fun!” Syo shrieked. “Do you have any idea how hard it is, denying my true nature?? I’m already laying off the real pretty boys for your sake; can’t you just let me have some fictional ones? Besides, I don’t see what the big deal is. You’re a romance author, right? That picture is the purest expression of love there is! Gyahahahaha!!!”

“Purest e-expression of love,” Fukawa seethed, her fingers curling into claws. “What does th-that uncultured swine know about love??”

After some back and forth that lasted for three hours, with some recordings consisting solely of the words “Fuck you”, the two of them eventually came to an understanding. Syo was willing to be a bit more cooperative, even willing to remove the smut from Fukawa’s computer, if four conditions were met.

“Conditions?” Naegi asked. He had a bad feeling about this.

“Y-yeah,” Fukawa pulled out a slip of paper from her pocket. “She made a list.”

The first condition, in Syo’s own words: “I want my own laptop. No cheap shit! It’s gotta be fast and it’s gotta be spacey! Them yaoi vids take up a lot of room. Actually, while I’m at it, make it a Macbook Pro! Hahaha, get it??” (Fukawa shuddered at the stupidity of her joke)

The second condition: She wanted a private place to stash her doujins. More specifically, she wanted her own cabinet, with a lock and key. (“Your closet’s running out of room, Miss Gloomy!”) Since Fukawa had moved out of her parents’ home and into her own apartment, this was easily accomplished.

The third condition: She wanted an allowance. A 'Fujoshi Fund’, as she put it, so she could buy all the merch she wanted without having to steal from Fukawa’s wallet. 80 000 yen a month (haggled down from 100 000).

“Did… Did she just casually admit to stealing from you?”

Fukawa bristled with annoyance. “L-let’s just leave that aside for now.”

“Ohhkkaayy… What about the fourth condition?”

She bit her lip. “That’s w-what I called you here for, a-actually.”

The fourth condition: Syo wanted to go to Comiket. Not just this year, but every year. For the whole three days. “And I mean both NatsuComi and FuyuComi! I want to be with my people!”

“S-She wants to be with her people.” Fukawa rolled her eyes. Then turned to her boyfriend. “NatsuComi starts t-this Saturday. I need you to go with her and make sure she doesn’t get into t-trouble.”

Naegi rubbed his chin, musing. He supposed he should have expected this. “Saturday, huh. Didn’t we have a date planned?”

“We’ll have to c-cancel,” she said, looking guilty. “Sorry a-about this… making you go along with that awful, awful woman. You’re the only o-one I can trust with this…”

“That’s okay,” he smiled at her. Then put his arms around her shoulders. “I don’t mind.”

She leaned against him and smiled back. “Thanks.”

“We’ll need to take some precautions, though. Maybe a disguise.”

“Disguise?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Just in case anyone we know recognises her face… your secret might get out, you know?”

“Oh. R-right.” She was unnerved. “I d-didn’t even think about that… Any ideas?”

“Well, it’s an anime convention, right?” Naegi grinned. “We can have her cosplay as someone who looks nothing like you.”

“Syo.”

“Yes…?” She trilled playfully at him.

“I thought we agreed that you should cosplay as someone who looks nothing like you.”

Syo had done the complete opposite of that. Naegi wasn’t sure who she was supposed to be cosplaying, but all she did was change her hairstyle somewhat, replace her glasses with green contacts and put on some sort of school uniform.

And she had her scissors out. Many of them. Proudly displayed on pouches slung around her waist. It was making him very nervous.

“Oh relax, Macoco! No one’s gonna recognise me.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“Yes, they are!!” He said, exasperated. “You hardly look any different from before! Who are you supposed to be anyway?”

She let out an offended gasp. “You don’t know? I’m Otoya Takechi! From Akuma no Riddle? My poor, misunderstood angel…” She started hugging herself, a disturbingly lewd smile on her lips. “Thrust into the world of assassins, cursed with an insatiable desire to kill, and every bit as beautiful as I am… It’s like her character was just made for me! Kyah, I want Serial Killer insurance, too! Nyahhahahaha!!”

Naegi just stared. He had no idea what she was talking about, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“Besides, I’ve been in the business for a long time. Don’t you think I’d know how to keep a low profile? Trust me, Mahkyutie, no one’s gonna know.”

He sighed. “Fine, if you say so.” He didn’t believe her in the slightest – he had been expecting her to don something far more elaborate and transformative – but honestly, he’d rather not argue with her anymore. Talking to her could be… frustrating. It was a bit of a risk, leaving things as they were, but truth be told, he didn’t think it was that likely that they’d bump into anyone they knew here anyway. Comiket was a big event, with thousands of others attending. What were the odds of meeting an acquaintance in this mob? His good luck ought to count for something.

They began making their way to the main convention hall. Might as well enjoy my time here, he thought. Fukawa might have disdained anime and everything related to it, but Naegi himself had always liked it. He had only been to Comiket once before with his sister Komaru, many years ago, just for the first day. He would have come back, except life kept getting in the way.

Well, now you get to come back twice a year, he thought. With Syo.

Attending a convention with a former serial killer. Who he was kinda sorta in a relationship with. Somehow, he didn’t find the idea as objectionable as he thought he would. Without thinking too much about it, he reached out and held Syo’s hand as they walked.

“Oh?” She turned to him, pleasantly surprised. “This is new.”

“Yeah, well,” his cheeks grew a light pink. “We’re technically dating, right? Objectively speaking, you’re still a part of my girlfriend.”

She giggled and suddenly wrapped her arm around his bicep, startling him a little. For several moments, he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Syo…” he said.

“We share feelings, remember?” She said, sounding unusually lovey-dovey. “Me and Little Miss Gloomy, that is.” In her usual carefree tone: “So, what do you have to say about all this?”

“NatsuComi?” He looked around him, taking in the dozens upon dozens of cosplayers, and the sheer size of the convention building. “I think it’s great, honestly!” Already, he had seen some characters he recognised. Maka Albarn, Kamina and Yoko, Eren Yeager… “There’s so much to see and-”

“No no no, not that!” She cut him off, amused. “I meant about us! You, me and your Emo girlfriend! This love triangle, this Ménage à Trois! Ohohoho,” she started hugging herself again, “dating two girls at once! And here I thought I was bad. Ma-kun, you naughty boy!”

He breathed out through his teeth. Silly him, he actually thought they were having a moment.

Around them, people were starting to stare. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say anything.” He tried to change the subject immediately. “How’d you get that costume done so quickly anyway? Doesn’t it take most people at least two weeks to have everything ready?” Naegi himself wasn’t able to do much on his end; with only a few days to prep, all he could put together for a costume was a red hoodie and a child’s Kamen Rider mask.

Which made him feel pretty lame, he had to admit, but at least it got the job of hiding his identity done.

She shrugged. “I bought it a couple of months ago. Was planning to come here, whether Gloomy would let me or not. Shit’s pretty expensive, but hey,” she ran her fingers through her hair, “take one good look at me and tell me it isn’t worth it, eh?” She grinned and winked at him.

“Expensive? Didn’t you steal the money for that from Touko?”

Her mouth dropped open. “I didn’t steal it!”

He raised an eyebrow. And though she couldn’t see it through the mask he wore, she got the message.

“Whatever! It’s not stealing if you both share the same body.”

A short laugh escaped him, mainly because he didn’t know how else to react. “What the hell kind of logic is that?”

“It’s called sharing! We’re already sharing a body, and we’re already sharing you! What’s the harm of sharing some other things too?”

He didn’t say anything. Don’t bother arguing, Makoto, he told himself, you’re never going to talk sense to her.

They managed to beat the long queue to enter Comiket by arriving a bit later than most everyone else. Syo had protested wildly against this decision, (“all of the good stuff would be sold out by then!”) but she relented when Naegi pointed out that standing in line under the punishing summer sun was a good way to take the fun right out of anything. The second they stepped into the convention hall, she began taking longer strides and running her tongue over her lips. Predictably, she was leading them right towards the Adult Doujin booths. She took in a deep whiff of cool, conditioned air.

“Aaahhhh, ambrosia!” She shivered, barely able to contain her excitement. “Can you smell it, Ma-kun?”

“Smell?” He sniffed around him. “I don’t smell anything.”

“No…” she intoned dramatically. “Not with your nose, young grasshopper. With your heart… Can’t you tell? It’s the smell… of adventure!! Haha!”

“If you say so.”

She tutted. “Party pooper. No wonder Miss Gloomy likes you so much; you’re as boring as she is!”

No response. Naegi didn’t want to dignify the jab, especially since it was also aimed at Fukawa.

“Just remember to behave yourself,” was all he cared to say. “That was what we agreed on.”

“Ooh, aren’t we snippy! Did I strike a nerve?”

“Syo.” He shot her a look. He was starting to lose his patience.

“Hmph! Well, if you’re going to be that way, I might as well enjoy the festivities by myself!”

With that, she dashed off into the crowd, apropos of nothing and with shocking speed. It took Naegi several seconds to even process what just happened.

“Wah! Syo, wait!” He chased after her.

Having a known murderer disappear from sight and into a mass of potential victims was bad for obvious reasons, even if said murderer had sworn off of killing people. If Naegi was being truthful, he didn’t yet fully believe it was safe to trust Syo’s word. Especially when she had so many pairs of her scissors on her. Who knows what she would get up to while he wasn’t watching?

Damn it, Makoto, you had one job, he cursed himself. How did you manage to screw that up?

After combing through the sea of unfamiliar faces for at least ten minutes, he did manage to find his girlfriend at one of the booths. He nearly had a panic attack the moment he saw who was manning it. Surrounded by mountainous piles of Heretical ☆ Angel Super Squishy Princess doujins, with the aura of a grand and magnanimous king, was their old classmate Hifumi Yamada.

“Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!” he was saying, to the impressively large mob of customers at his booth clamouring for his attention. “Calm down! There’s plenty of Byuuko to go around! No shoving!”

Syo was standing by the side of the booth, thumbing through the pages of one of his creations. Her expression quickly became one of displeasure and she threw it back at Yamada.

“Hetero Lolicon trash!!” She yelled. “I thought you were a connoisseur!”

“Oho!” Yamada didn’t seem the least bit insulted by her actions. He readjusted his glasses. “I see we have a young lady of particular taste! Fret not, Fujoshi-dono, I do believe I have something more suited for you.” He reached under the booth and pulled out another doujinshi, handing it to Syo. Astoundingly, he didn’t seem to recognise who she was, much to Naegi’s relief.

She scanned through the book with scepticism at first, then her eyes became starry. She held it close to her chest.

“Forgive my earlier rudeness, kind sir,” she said coquettishly, “do you have any more just like this?”

(Naegi, who was observing this exchange from afar, was aghast. He had never seen her act like that before)

Yamada’s grin was smug and satisfied. He reached under the booth again, and emerged with a variety of BL doujins. “Take your pick, Fujoshi-dono,” he said. She slammed down a 5000 yen note onto his table immediately.

“One copy of each!” She declared shrilly. “Keep the change!”

Syo was giddy with delight when she returned to Naegi’s side, hugging her new acquisitions tightly. “Mako-chan, look!” She was practically singing. “Isn’t it wonderful?” She shoved an open doujinshi into his face. The image made him yelp and blush an even deeper red than when he saw Fukawa’s desktop. “It was worth coming here just for these! Gyahahahaha!”

He took a moment to recollect his scattered thoughts. He never knew that Yamada was into this sort of thing.

“Don’t run off like that! You had me worried sick!”

“Oh please,” she made a flippant gesture. “I’m a grown serial killer! Don’t you think I can take care of myself?”

“That’s not the point! You were supposed to be careful! What if Yamada had recognised you??”

She made a raspberry. “I don’t a babysitter!” And took off again.

“Ah! No, come back!” But she was already gone, bending into the crowd once more.

Naegi let out a heavy sigh. This was going to be a very long day.

If Syo could describe the experience of coming to Comiket, she would have likened it to being a caterpillar emerging from its cocoon as a beautiful butterfly, finally free after months of captivity to spread its wings across the endless azure and see the world. Sure, she couldn’t kill anymore – what with that promise she made and everything – but freedom was freedom. Mako-chii was such a sweet boy, but she couldn’t allow him to spoil her fun with his bad vibes and slow her down. Not when there was so much to see! So much to buy and consume!

She spied another booth that looked promising. And another. And another. She’d visit them all, of course, in due time. But she couldn’t decide who first.

She settled for the nearest one. Began perusing all they had to offer hungrily. Within a half hour, she had purchased another twenty books of lovely, gratuitous smut. Costly, yes, but she wasn’t the one paying for it. Her other half was more than capable of bearing the expense; as part of the deal with Miss Gloomy, a tidy sum was set aside for her to play around with. Besides, she’d have an eternity to fill before FuyuComi. She had to make the best of this opportunity.

And God knows she hadn’t done a bad job of it so far, oh yes. It hadn’t mattered what genre or fandom they were from; as long as they were hot, she bought what she could. Her precious darlings. Mmm-mmm. Cloud X Sephiroth, Rikku X Sora, some ship from another one of those sports animes, she didn’t care. She now had two carrier bags worth of doujins, and it was all delicious.

Shame there wasn’t any guro around here, though. Oh well.

“Maybe I’ll make some of my own,” she said aloud, and cackled.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in the convention hall, Naegi kept up his search. He didn’t understand how Syo could be so quick, or how she could so efficiently disappear from view. Twice now, he had spotted her from a distance but lost track of her within the space of a few seconds, while trying to navigate through the crowd. And the one time he did catch up to her, she vanished like before without so much as a warning. This was not how he envisioned spending the day.

He should have been having fun. He should have been taking pictures and trying out fan-made games and buying posters and keychains and figurines. Not dealing with this insanity.

At least he could be sure (somewhat) that Syo hadn’t hurt anyone yet. No one was screaming or calling security. So maybe she was keeping her promise and he was just being paranoid. Still, there was another concern; if she bumped into anyone else they knew ̶ someone much sharper than Yamada-kun, say ̶ it could mean trouble for-

“Oh my,” said a familiar voice. “This is unexpected,”

“It’s Naegi-kun.” said another.

So much for my good luck, he cursed inwardly as he turned to face the speakers. He did a double take when he saw who they were.

“…Celes-san? Kirigiri-san?”

Both were dressed in their usual attire, eyeing him curiously, standing arm in arm. That last detail recalled to mind the rumours Naegi heard about the two when they were still in school. He had erroneously dismissed it as just bitter spiteful diatribe from the boys who tried asking them out and failed. Guess they really were dating…

“Um… How did you know it was me?”

Celestia rolled her eyes. Her girlfriend crossed her arms.

“You’re speaking to the Queen of Liars, Naegi-kun.”

“And I work for a detective agency,” Kirigiri said. “You’re not fooling either of us in that silly getup.”

Heat rushed to his face. Now he felt even more lame than before.

“I didn’t know you were into conventions,” he said, addressing them both.

“Why not?” Celestia smiled. She lifted a paper bag full of soft-pastel coloured garments that bore the words Angelic Pretty in pink cursive letters (The Ariake branch was doing some kind of promotion here, it seemed). “They have such lovely dresses for sale. Exactly my style.” Behind her, Kirigiri was smiling at her date affectionately.

“I’m just tagging along,” she said.

A plethora of questions formed on the tip of Naegi’s tongue, but before he could ask any of them, he spotted a swish of dusky purple hair, from a long way off. That had to be Syo. He needed to get a move on fast.

“Sorry, I’d really love to catch up, but I was here with a friend, and I’ve lost them.”

“Oh? Maybe we could help,” Kirigiri offered.

“Um, that’s okay!” If they could see through the mask and hoodie, Naegi had doubts that Syo’s disguise would have lasted very long under their scrutiny. Best not to get them involved. “Talk to you later, bye guys!”

They watched as he rushed off, awkward and graceless as a bull in a china shop. “A friend, huh.” Celes remarked.

Kirigiri cocked her head. “Was he talking about that girl with the scissors?”

“I believe so.”

“Any clue who she is?” Kirigiri asked.

She pondered for a moment, then shrugged. “Haven’t the foggiest,” she said, having already lost interest. “Come on, my dear.” She beamed at Kirigiri. “We’ve got more shopping to do.”

Kirigiri chuckled. “Yes, ma'am.”

“…and that’s why I prefer Kanehide,” Syo was saying, to a fellow NatsuComi attendee in plain clothes who had asked for a photograph. She took a swig from a bottle of cherry cola, washing the dryness from her tongue.

“Right??” The girl chirruped excitedly. “They went through hell and back for each other! There’s no way they’re 'just friends’. The haters don’t know what they’re talking about!”

Three and a half hours had passed since she first stepped into Comiket. Running around sampling comics while lugging two heavy bags of booty was hard work, so she was taking a break. The day’s events had already taken out quite a bit from her.

“And that damn ending,” the girl continued. “I wanted to cry! The anime can’t hold a candle to the manga, though. There were so many things they had to cut out.”

Syo nodded at all this, taking another pull from her drink. It had been awhile since she had anyone to talk to about her passions. Naegi, sweet boy, would have made a willing enough audience for her discussions, but he wouldn’t have been able to relate; he didn’t just share her interest.

“Anyway, speaking of anime, have you seen Owari No Seraph?”

“I haven’t.” She leaned forward. In conspiratorial whisper: “But I’ve heard some ̶ ah, interesting things about it. Is it any good?”

The girl grinned. “It’s the best. The series flagship is to die for. And there’s this shota cutie who you could just-”

"Mariko-chan!“ A young man called out to her. "We’re going for ice cream! You coming?”

“Ah, that’s my cue.” She gave Syo an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I’ve gotta go now. Bye.” And made to leave. “Wait for me, please!!”

Owari No Seraph, eh? She snickered. She was definitely going to check that one out. Downing the rest of her cola in one long, refreshing gulp, Syo hefted her bags and got back to prowling. Those doujins weren’t going to buy themselves.

But two things slowed her advance. First, the bags were getting a little too heavy. One of the numerous downsides to sharing a body with Tou-chan was that she was almost criminally unfit; years of sitting on her ass, writing those sappy, stuffy novels had not done her physique any favours.

But second, and most importantly, she was starting to get worried about Mako-chii. It had been quite some time since she last saw him. Where the hell was he? He should have caught up to her by now, yammering on about how Syo, you can’t do this, or Syo, you can’t do that. Did he get lost? Maybe she should slow it down so he could catch up. Enough torturing for the poor boy.

Gloomy’s gonna be pissed if you let anything happen to him. Hell, she’d be pissed with herself if she let anything happen to him. Good-natured little shit. Lacking as he was in the looks and the height department, she understood why Tou-chan liked him so much, she really did. Even if she did a lousy job of showing it.

She sighed. “Guess I should go look for him.” Her darlings could wait a little while longer. There was always Days Two and Three anyway.

“The fuck didn’t you watch where you were going, bastard!?”

Naegi’s horrendous form of luck had once again landed him into hot soup. Having spotted a glimpse of what might have been his girlfriend in the distance, he had broken into a sprint. A particularly beefy-looking cosplayer with a spiky blue wig and a massive black Styrofoam sword had chosen the wrong moment to set his prop down so he could tie his shoe, inadvertently placing it in the perfect position for Naegi to run into and trip, snapping it in several places.

“Took me three fucking weeks to put this thing together, asshole,” the cosplayer was saying. “And I’ve got a photoshoot tomorrow. The fuck am I supposed to do now?”

Naegi put his hands up defensively. This was bad. Very bad.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, I was just… in a rush…” he pulled out his wallet. “I… I’ll pay for it. How much did it cost?”

“Pay for it? Pay for it??” The young man seemed outraged by the very notion. “Goddamn right, you’ll pay for it. C'mere.” And grabbed him by the collar with one very large hand. Around them, people were watching. No one seemed to want to do anything to help. Naegi was on his own.

This was definitely not how he envisioned spending the day.

He tried to put up a struggle, tried to reason with his aggressor, but that didn’t amount to much. Soon, Naegi found himself in an unfamiliar corridor, away from the rest of the convention. Some kind of fire exit perhaps? A hard shove sent him sprawling backwards into a white wall.

“Please, calm down,” he managed, weakly. “You don’t need to-”

He was cut off by a sudden and powerful uppercut to the belly. The pain drove the wind out of him and brought tears to his eyes. He heard the sound of knuckles cracking.

“That’s just the start, asshole.”

Naegi hadn’t realised he had gone to his knees until he looked up. Another punch dented the cheap, paper-thin plastic of his Kamen Rider mask. “Teach you to ruin my day.”

He didn’t yet know this – and wouldn’t have grasped it until he thought back to this some weeks later – but at that moment, Naegi’s own twisted serendipity had landed him right where he needed to be, just as it always did. Unfortunately for him, he’d have to deal with this unpleasantness first. It should have come as no surprise that out of everyone he could have ran into in NatsuComi, it had to be some jumped-up musclehead stereotype with a chip on his shoulder, before things would start working themselves out; he’d been dealing with crap like this since middle school.

How’d it come to this? He remembered asking himself. How’d go from spend the day having fun to making sure Syo didn’t murder somebody to get beat up in a corridor because of something you didn’t mean to-

“Oi.”

That voice. It wasn’t from the young man. It was softer. Feminine. And infinitely more terrifying. Through the watery haze of his tears, he could make out another figure, against the backdrop of painted concrete. A wave of fear and dread overtook him when he realised who it was.

“Syo…”

He wasn’t afraid for himself. Syo wouldn’t have harmed him. This young man, however…

“Mmm, aren’t you a cutie.” She smiled, and her fingertips danced over the handles of her scissors. “Handsome, hunky… Been awhile since I’ve done anyone. Now, just what do you think you’re doing to my man?”

She was met with a stare. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Syo,” Naegi called out from where he knelt. “Don’t hurt him, please…”

Horrible images came to him. Blood. Sharpened steel glistening under fluorescent lights. Arms impaled against a wall, next to a message in sticky dripping red. Whatever this young man did to him, he didn’t deserve to end up another scar on Fukawa’s thigh.

But Syo gave Naegi a look that was surprisingly tender.

“Don’t you worry, Ma-kun,” she assured. “I won’t hurt him. Much.”

Between them, the young man’s expression became one of outrage. “You? Hurt me?” He took a step towards her. “Is this supposed to be some kind of joke, bitch?”

She licked her lips languorously. “Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this.”

Raw panic had compelled Naegi to try and stand. The pain in his belly was subsiding, but it was still enough to hinder him considerably. It was a good thing he hadn’t had a bite to eat since breakfast; he felt ready to dry heave all over the floor.

Gotta stop her, he said to himself. But Syo’s scissors were already out, tearing through the air with frightening speed. The cosplayer hadn’t thought twice about taking a swing at her before she started slashing. There was the sound of ripping fabric and a cry of shock by the time Naegi got to his feet. She must have cut the young man at least a dozen times in the space of those few seconds. He feared the worst; was he going to look up and find another victim of hers?

He did not.

All the same, however, he did regret looking up.

All across the floor were the tattered remains of the young man’s clothes. For what must have been the third time this week, Naegi found himself staring at naked, alabaster skin. Lord have mercy… he blushed again. This young man was a lot more well-built than he thought.

Syo’s bladework had been precise. Surgical. She hadn’t drawn a single drop of blood, yet damage had been done anyway. You could see it on the young man’s face.

“Aaahh!?” was all that escaped him. He didn’t seem to comprehend how he could have ended up like this.

“Well now!” She giggled. “I guess it really is true, what they say about men with big swords!” She wagged her pinkie at him, then howled with laughter.

The young man let out a shriek and ran straight for a corner, attempting to preserve what remained of his modesty.

“You b-b-bitch!!” He screeched at her, from a huddled position. “I-I’ll get e-even for t-this, yo-”

“No,” she interrupted, hurling one of her weapons at his direction, where it buried itself into the wall inches from his head. “You won’t.” He whimpered and fell silent.

“You okay?” She turned her attention to Naegi, sounding genuinely concerned. “Hold still now, let me see.” She lifted the Kamen Rider mask gingerly from his face. An enormous goose egg of a bruise was rising majestically from under his right eye. He had his hand over his stomach where the cosplayer had struck him, but he was okay. Mostly. “I… I’m alright,” he said. “Just a little shaken up, is all. I-”

She put her arms around him and pulled him close, letting out what might have been a sigh of relief, squeezing him tight. Neither of them said anything for awhile.

“Come on, Makoto,” she smiled at him. “Let’s get out of here.

The rest of Comiket went by that afternoon without a hitch. Syo was back to her usual self once they rejoined the convention.

"But did you see the guns on that fuckboy? Woowie!” She fanned herself with an open hand. “He was hot, hot, hot!! I wouldn’t mind never killing again if I could do that to some cutie every once in a while! Gyahahahaha!!”

Following close behind her, with one of her carrier bags on his shoulder, Naegi winced. “Please don’t. You really shouldn’t be doing that to people.”

“Yeah, and he shouldn’t be beating the crap out of someone for no good goddamn reason,” she said offhandedly, unconsciously tightening her grip around his hand. She’d been holding it ever since they walked out of that fire escape.

“Um, about that,” Naegi said, with what might have been guilt. “Thank you.”

She turned to him and cocked her head. “What for?”

“For not killing that guy,” he spoke softly, in case anyone heard. “And for saving me.”

“D'aww, you’re such a sweetheart! You’re welcome!” She coiled her arm around his bicep once more. It made his heart race. “Wouldn’t have been a good idea to do him anyway,” she continued. “Too many witnesses, hahahaha!”

In all seriousness, Naegi had been wrong not to trust her. And he couldn’t be happier to be proven wrong. He owed her an apology.

“I owe you an apology,” he said. “I didn’t think you’d keep your word. I should have trusted you more. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, sure.” She wasn’t even paying attention. “I forgive you, I guess.” Her focus was more directed towards another booth, this one proudly displaying Daimakuras with some very under-dressed pretty boys. “Hey, Ma-kun, could you lend me some cash? I’m almost out.”

Naegi blinked twice, certain he had misheard her. “What? How??” He was incredulous. “Touko gave you like 150 000 yen for the whole three days!” He started rummaging through the bag he carried. “How many of these things did you buy??”

“I don’t know, I lost count after… uh, fifty?”

“Fifty?”

“Fifty.”

Naegi shook his head in utter disbelief, his earlier guilt already forgotten. “Syo, I think you have a problem.”

“Oh, whatever! You gonna lend me the money or not?”

Soon enough, two bags became three. Naegi couldn’t remember the last time his wallet felt this light (or his shoulders so heavy). Yet it hadn’t been a bad day, even with all the running around, the excessive expenditure and that scuffle in the fire escape. When he was spending time with Syo rather than chasing her around, things were… pleasant. Much more than he expected. It was actually making him look forward to Days Two and Three.

As long as Syo didn’t start speeding off again.

Which he doubted she would, anyway. She was keeping him very close to her now, hovering over him protectively. Even as she sampled more doujins from booth after booth, she kept one eye on him. It stayed that way even as Day One of Comiket drew to a close and the crowds thinned in the convention hall. It stayed that way as they started making their way out of there.

“That bag giving you any trouble?” She asked.

He shook his head, touched by her concern. “No, I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Then he smiled. “You know, that sounds so strange, coming from you.”

“Tch, rude!” She grinned. “Maybe I shouldn’t have been bothered after all.” But she moved in a little nearer so they were almost shoulder to shoulder, keeping him there beside her for most of the trip home.

She wasn’t about to let Mako-pyon out of her sight for a while, oh no.

“Ah! Y-Your face! What happened??”

Fukawa’s reaction was both expected and immediate; as soon as Syo made herself sneeze and Touko turned her eyes to Naegi, she saw the bruise and the ice pack he was holding up to it.

“H-hey, come on, let me s-see…” She sounded almost exactly like Syo had that afternoon, lifting the pack away and cupping his cheek tenderly. They were far more alike than they knew, Naegi thought, as he spent the next three minutes or so with her fussing over him, in spite of repeated assurances that - Yes, he was fine, and No, it didn’t hurt anymore.

“Ngghh!! She did this, didn’t she!?” Fukawa hissed, hands bunching into fists. “I knew it! I k-knew we couldn’t t-trust that ridiculous harlot! She’s gone too f-far this time! Daring to lay a hand on you…” She made as if to wring her fingers into Syo’s neck.

“No, no! That’s not what happened at all!” He explained the day’s events to her, calming her down a little.

“Hmph! Well, you still got hurt b-because of her.” She mumbled, folding her arms crossly. “If she had just behaved herself, this would never have happened…”

“You’re being too hard on her.” He said, patiently. “She did help me out, after all. And she’s still keeping her promise about not killing anymore. I think we should cut her some slack.”

“F-fine, if you say so.” She sounded unconvinced. “But if you get h-hurt again, the deal’s off. I don’t care w-what she does.” Her shoulders slumped as she allowed herself to relax, before they suddenly tensed again when she looked down.

“Ugh, what did she m-make me wear? What is all this crap??”

Syo hadn’t bothered changing out of her clothes before surrendering control back to Fukawa. As soon as they were done packing her new doujins somewhere inconspicuous, she smiled at Naegi and said “Alright, you can have Tou-chan back now.”

“She was supposed to be cosplaying as someone named Otoya… or something,” he said, scratching the back of his head. What was it that Syo was going on about again? Akuma no… Rhythm? River? He already forgot. Oh well. He didn’t think Fukawa cared about that in the least.

“Anyway, she told me to tell you that she’s going to be wearing that tomorrow, so don’t put it in the wash yet,” he said, moving to sit on her couch. “Just fold it and leave it somewhere she can see.”

“Fine, fine.” She made a dismissive gesture. “Honestly. That woman…” One of her hands brushed against the handles of Syo’s homemade scissors and recoiled from them as if she had touched something filthy. “This a-arrangement is going to be more trouble than it’s worth.”

Fatigue was starting to set in for her. She was feeling the full weight of Syo’s physical actions for the whole day on her body. Unceremoniously, she collapsed into the couch next to Naegi and lay her head onto his lap, startling him. This was a first.

She didn’t object when he placed a hand on her arm. She nuzzled against him and sighed.

“S-so, what else did she say?”

“She’s asking for more money,” he said, feeling bad for dropping this on her now, when she was so exhausted. “She’s already spent what you gave her.”

“Geh!” Fukawa went rigid. “O-of course she did.” Then relaxed once more. In a softer tone: “A-anything else?”

“No. Not that I remember, anyway.”

“And what about you?” She turned to face him, concerned. “There’s still two more days of this a-absurdity. Are you going to be okay?”

He considered.

“I’ll be fine,” he said, after awhile. “She’ll make sure of it. I think.”

“She damn well better,” Fukawa seethed, thinking about her smartphone, the massive dent in her chequebook, and the harm that had already befallen poor Naegi because of Syo. To hell with what he said; as soon as her boyfriend went home and she had taken all this cosplay garbage off of her person, she and that diseased lunatic were going to have a very long talk.

End Notes: In order to better understand Syo as a character, I decided to re-read two of my favourite stories involving her as inspiration. These stories are “Burning Down Love” by thereisafire and “why stand on formalities when we’re already so close” by suitablyskippy. I highly recommend checking them out. (Fair warning, though; these stories are much darker and more violent. Proceed at your own discretion) Also, I have never been to Comiket in my life. Most of what’s described here is based on things I’ve heard from others. Please pardon any factual inaccuracies.

#dangan ronpa #naekawa #makosyo #celegiri #fukaegi #naefuka #naegi x fukawa #fluff #rarepair #i'm gonna make this ship sail if it's the last thing i do #naesyo

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cddump · 8 years ago

Text

Again (Sitting five. 2031 words.)

An awkward silence passed through the hallway for what felt like hours.

“Um,” Casper started, “so I–” “I don’t believe this!” The girl yelled out.

“This is the guy you were telling me about?” Gary the security guard asked.

“Yes! He’s the one! He knocked my new stash over when I was walking out of the store and saw the middle fold with my husbandos!”

“Your…what?”

“Her husbandos, man!” Gary slammed two open palms against his desk as he stood. “The very essence of this young girl’s love has been violated by your intrusive and peering eyes.” “Her love? Are those guys in the magazines drawn versions of real people?” “They’re called doujins!” Ash cried back, “and no,they’re not ‘real people!’ I’m not interested in three dimensional, pig disgusting men!” Casper blinked. What the fuck was she talking about? Did people like this actually exist? “Am…Am I being pranked?” He asked hopelessly.

“A normie like you wouldn’t understand.” “Tell her, girl!” the security egged her on while he pumped a fist into the air. Casper raised his hand in front of him in protest before things got out of hand.

“Hold on. If I’m a 'normie,’ then what are you?”

“I’m a N.E.E.T.!” She answered triumphantly.

“A…what?” “A N.E.E.T.! You know, No Experience, Education, or Training.” “Oh. So you’re a weeaboo loser.” Both Ashwini and Gary winced, as if Casper had thrown a punch to their arm. “…Are you the same, mister security guard?” Gary only nodded.

“Th-that’s a damn rude way of putting it!” Ash yelled.

“Yeah, bro. That was a hella low blow!”

“You owe us an apology!” “Sorry,” Casper said simply.

“At least try and pretend that you mean it!” Casper sighed in his usual tired irritation as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know what time he fell asleep last night, but the fact that it was on the roof while sitting on a folding chair did him no favors. His back was aching and it felt as if he hadn’t slept a wink. He wanted to lay down, far away from the loud chaos these two brought.

“I’m sorry,” Casper repeated.

“Is that all you have to say for–” “Do you want me to fucking bow?!” he snapped. Casper’s sudden comment caused the girl to wince again, but this was far different from last time. Back then she had almost taken it as a joke, as if a friend were teasing her. Now her shocked stance held anxious fear. Casper could see Gary’s body language was different as well. He was leaned forward, ready to dart out of his chair at a moment’s notice. “I-I’m sorry.” Casper ran his fingers through his hair nervously. They landed at the back of his neck where he rubbed his hand against it. “I’m tired. And I haven’t slept well the past few days. I’ve only been awake for a few minutes and haven’t fully settled in yet. I haven’t even been here a full day, after all. I’m…I’m not usually like that. You see, I have…” Casper trailed off. He wasn’t about to tell them he had insomnia. He wasn’t going to let himself use it as an excuse for his shitty behavior. “…Nevermind. Can I sign those papers? I’ll get out of your hair after.” Gary eased himself back into his chair and pulled three documents from his drawer.

“Sign down here, at the bottom of the pages,” he said. Casper nodded as he pulled the papers from the open slot on the bottom of the glass. “Hold on, I’ll grab you a pen.”

“I got one,” Casper told him. He always had a pen and a small sketchpad on him. Both were tiny in comparison to their normal counterparts, but they worked whenever inspiration struck him. He clicked the top of the small pen and scribbled his signature on the papers, one after the other.

“I’ll get these to Chandra. Thanks.” Casper nodded.

“Sorry again. I…just need time.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Though Gary’s words were forgiving, his tone was not. Dear diary: day two and I’ve already fucked up and burned a bridge.

“Um. Casper?” Ash asked. Make that two bridges. And to top it off, she was the daughter of the landlord. Great going, Casp. “About your pen…” Casper held his pen out. He had gotten so used to it, he had forgotten it was a pen made for a convention he had attended last year. He had his own table to sell merchandise, including the small pen which had various images of his characters from his comics.

“Oh,” he yawned, “these guys are from a webcomic.” “Animals Deluxe! I knew it! Do you read it?!” He blinked. Maybe he could use this to win back some points he had lost from his outburst earlier.

“I’m the creator,” he said. It was rare he got to meet anyone in the real world who knew of his work, but in the span of 24 hours he had encountered three people who knew of his comic.

“Bullshit!” Ash and Gary said at the same time.

“Do you read it too?” Casper asked Gary.

“Never heard of it, but that sounds like a lie.”

“Okay,” Casper pulled out his phone and opened his pictures before showing the screen the to both of them. “This is me at my table during Emerald City Expo. This same picture was featured on my site for a while too.” The picture was a simple one where he and a male fan stood next to each other in front of a table filled with merchandise for his comic. They both smiled broadly and held their hands out in the peace sign. Casper’s eyes still had dark circles under them, even back then.

“No way!” Ash cried out. “That’s awesome! Have you thought about incorporating a more Eastern style into your artwork?” “…You know, it’s always nice to meet a fan, but I think that’s the first time someone’s suggested something like that right out of the gate.”

“I just think the animals would look better in a chibi style.” Casper brought a hand under his chin.

“I did that once for some stickers, actually. It wasn’t too bad but I wouldn’t want to incorporate it entirely into my comic. The sudden shift would be strange as well.” He rubbed his eyes. “Listen, I’m gonna try and get some sleep. I feel like I haven’t gotten any all night.”

“Wait up a sec, before you go, can I show you something?”

An elevator ride and a short walk later found Casper in front of Ash’s apartment door.

“Should I be worried?” He asked. “Why?” She taunted, “Don’t tell me you’ve never been in a girl’s room before?”

“This feels like the start of a horror movie. Like the room is going to be covered in plastic wrap from carpet to ceiling, Dexter style. Then I wander in, confused and Gary jumps out from behind the sofa with a baseball bat with nails in it, swinging at me. Then you two eat my body and bleach out any blood that got on the wrapping and furniture.” Ash stared at Casper, shocked.

“Wh…what kind of comics do you draw again?”

“I had a phase where I wanted to work with more thrilling genres.”

“You uh, have the imagination for it. I think.” Ash opened the door to her apartment, but the inside was mostly dark, causing Casper to take a step back.

“Holy shit, you really are going to kill me!”

“That’s right! Stabby stabby!” Ash jabbed Casper in the back with her index and middle finger which made him yell out in a high pitched, hollow cry as he jumped against the wall next to the door, completely caught off guard. It wasn’t until he heard Ash laughing did he finally calm down. She had bent over, holding on to her knees for support. “I’m sorry! I’ve never heard a guy make a noise like that before!”

“I’m going to bed,” Casper huffed as he turned around.

“No wait come back!” She grabbed his shoulder just before he started to walk away. “There really is something I want to show you! Come on! Pleeeeaaaaase?” The face Ash was giving him reminded him of his sister’s best friend.

“Fine, fine. What is it?” “A surprise. Come on in. Lemme turn on the lights.” The beige walls were plastered with various posters of different animated shows and movies. A large TV sat on a table opposite the door, with a tall shelf showcasing various different anime figures, most of which were women with different hair colors and large robots. Casper pointed to the largest poster he could see. It showed a red headed girl in a black bikini sitting on the arm of a large mech with a younger boy standing above her.

“I’m noticing the pattern that most of these women aren’t wearing a lot of clothing.”

“Yeah don’t worry about that. Come on, it’s in my bedroom.” Casper raised an eyebrow, remembering the 'yaoi husbando’ nonsense he had experienced downstairs.

“…What kind of anime are you into again?”

“Don’t be weird, come on.” He wanted to turn around and run back to his apartment. Just because she wasn’t going to kill him didn’t mean he was completely home free. He should have brought a witness, like Alex. He was weird as hell but wouldn’t let her try anything funny with him. Hell, he’d probably say anime was a Japanese propaganda tool laced with subliminal messages. Casper mentally shook his head and steeled himself as he followed the otaku to her room. It was definitely bigger than the master bedroom in his own apartment, and she had used the extra space to store her computer on one side of the room, her bed in the middle, and another television on the other wall. Just like the living room, the walls had posters all around, but they were less prominent here. The bed itself was surprisingly normal as well. Casper fully expected the bedspread to have images sewed into it as well, like children comforters did. Without an explanation, Ash had turned on the television and was fiddling with different on-screen menus.

“So what were you gonna show me?”

“Let me find it real quick, hang on.”

“Find it? You’re basically channel surfing. …Wait, did you bring me up her to make me watch anime?” “Uh-huh! There’s a series that’s similar to your comic that might help―Wait don’t leave!” Casper had turned around and was already making his way back to the living room.

“Look, I’m tired, alright? I have…sleeping issues.”

“Okay, I get that, but come on! Just one episode? Please?!” Casper sighed for what felt like the 50th time.

“Can I ask you something?” “Huh?” “Why aren’t you pissed at me? I acted really shitty to you and Gary down there. If it were me, I would have thrown a fit back.”

“Dude, look at this place,” Ash threw her arms open, showing off her living quarters, “Do you think this is normal? It’s like, dysfunctional or something. I can’t just walk down the street and ask them what kind of hentai they’re into, you know? I never give off the best first impressions, so I can’t be mad if the guy that just moved here got irritated at the overbearing weeb.”

Casper laughed. “You really did make a crappy first impression back at the book store.” “The book―aw damn it I had forgotten about that. I pushed it out of my memory.” Tiredness forced Casper to rub his eyes again.

“So how long’s an episode, then?” “They’re split into two separate 10 minute stories per episode, so about 20ish if we skip the opening.” “Let’s skip the opening, then,” he told her as he sat against her bed.

#right write #my writing #writing #humor #comedy #slice of life #bringing this back

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