#wow this got. Long

[spearxwind]

I think it's sad that most people always think of bottlenoses as the "classic dolphin" since its the one that's always used for shows, and always think of dolphins as just straight grey when in reality there's so many varieties with so many different amazing patterns

Look at the common dolphin! They have a gorgeous X pattern and even some dull yellow/gold!!

Hourglass dolphins have gorgeous white streaks

Spinner dolphins have really pretty banding as well, AND they have a really sleek cute silhouette!

The atlantic spotted dolphin!!! Theyre spotted!!!!!!

and the pantropical spotted too!!

Dusky dolphins have a gorgeous airbrush look going on like straight out of a 2000s fantasy illustration

Striped dolphins sure have stripes!! How cool!!

And these I've shown you aren't even all of them at all, there are so many of them:

There's so so so many different types of dolphins people dont know about this isnt even all of them and some are SO gorgeous and underrated because people just dont know they exist so I'm here to fix that

[abylou]

overheating

[possamble]

Needlessly close reading and long commentary on chapter 57 and how the audience actually has an extremely limited view on what Marcille has been like over the course of her life.

I am once again thinking about how pre-dungeon Marcille is so quiet and stoic that she seems like a completely different person. How jarring chapter 57 is for the audience. Like you have Marcille, who has been just the most blindingly expressive person with resting baby face

And then the chapter drops a title page of Marcille hearing from Falin for the first time in four years and it's like.

Who is that. Genuinely. Would you even realize that's Marcille without the context clues?

And then the chapter just keeps coming in with the sucker punches.

We have SEEN Marcille meet strangers. It was never with this understated of a smile.

literally who the hell is this. the few times the audience gets to see some Signature Marcille Faces that they're used to is when she finally gets to see Falin again

when she's testing out her new spells

(and when Laios and Falin are fantasizing about her being their damsel in distress, funnily enough)

And then finally. Finally you get to a fully recognizable Marcille when she fucking DIES and comes back to life to geek out about necromancy.

We know she loves magic. We know she loves Falin. So it's not so surprising that she wouldn't be able to keep a mask up when thinking or talking about the things she loves. But why the mask in the first place? Where does it come from? It's tempting to think that, maybe, Falin's departure just hurt her so much that it turned her into a quiet person.

But that's only half true. If you go back, the first instance you see of this incredibly mild personality is actually introduced much earlier, in chapter 17.

What if she was always like that. What if her default after her father died was to hold people at arm's length, to never really emote past being polite and friendly. What if Falin was the first person who was able to bring her out of her shell, and when she left, Marcille just went back to how she was.

And when comparing her detached demeanour with someone else...

It's not exact, but wouldn't you say there's a resemblance? Wouldn't you think she might be trying her best to imitate what she saw of her own mother working as an accomplished mage?

It would certainly explain why she's hiding behind her portrait in her nightmare, at least.

We aren't told that Marcille has been distancing herself from everyone around her using a mature and dignified personality she modelled off her mother. But we sure as hell are shown it, I think.

[weirdglassthing]

GRIMMORNING NATION RISEEE. Criminal lack of grimmorning on this site so I’m making it my personal mission to spread my propaganda

Ignore whatevers going on with torbek, even I don’t know. I just drew some lines for his body and called it a day

[drawnfamiliarfaces]

Reread @ageaccuratesecrettrio-blog comic (admittedly on webtoon xD) recently and was just overwhelmed with desire to draw some fanart. I just really like that comic man, it brings me so much joy. 🤗🤗🤗 I wish I was on tumblr when Becca drew this, it would have been so hype!!!

[reengeen]

NEW OBSESSION AQUIRED

[shouyuus]

direct continuation of this; part of the apt neighbor!vi au

apartment neighbor!vi who disappears, or at least tries to -- no more weekend visits, no more tuesday night movie dates -- you still see her, or rather, catch glimpses of her here and there, but she's always ducking away or off somewhere before you can catch her, and for a someone who's so conspicuous, she's more slippery than you could've ever imagined. and at first, you're angry -- hurt, confused -- but the pain dulls after a week, two, and soon enough, there's only the barest flinch whenever you see her silhouette slipping down the hallway when you catch her coming back from the gym, or in the mail room --

once, you catch the bright chime of powder's voice as vi opens her door, and you could've sworn you heard your name, but the next second, the door's slamming closed behind her, and powder's voice cuts off like an old record.

apartment neighbor!vi who still goes to the gym, and it's the only real place you see her, but she's always got her headphones banded over her bright red hair, her eyes narrowed -- the bandages around her knuckles are tattered, stained with what looks like blood. there are new cuts and bruises scattered along her arm and what looks like a fresh scab at the corner of her lip.

you don't ask; you figure that if she'd wanted you to know, she would've told you by now.

apartment neighbor!vi who is not there the first time you let curiosity get the better of you and maps the way to her family's pub -- it's a divey kind of place, but spacious and well-kept, with dartboards lining the walls and an old fashioned jukebox in the corner. the man behind the counter glances up with a grin, a slight dip between his brows, an old pipe between his lips.

"bit early for a girl like you to come wanderin' in here," he says, with a voice that rumbles through you, even from a distance. you clear your throat and check your watch -- yeah, 2pm on a wednesday isn't peak hours for a bar like this but it's what you were hoping for.

"oh -- sorry, are you guys not open yet?" you glance back at the door, afraid that you'd missed some sort of signage but the man just laughs and shakes his head.

"nah, we're open. c'mon in," he gestures to the empty bar top, and sets down a glass with a heavy hand.

you eye it for a second before skittering over and sliding up onto one of the barstools, glancing around to take in the scene.

"lookin' for vi, i assume?"

you jump at the sound of vi's name, your eyes slingshotting back to the man, who breaks out into a loud bark of laughter, pouring you a full glass of water.

"h-how did -- has vi said something?"

the man shrugs, pushing the water towards you; you grab it for lack of anything better to do, taking a tentative sip as he eyes you with beady, beatle-black eyes, shining with mirth.

"you pour people drinks for long enough and you start to get a knack for puzzlin' out what they want when they walk in -- kinda person they might be, why they're comin' in -- gets to be a kinda game if you get good enough at it," he leans in with a conspiratorial wink that sets you at ease. you feel your own shoulders drop a bit as you set the glass back down on the counter and lick your lips.

"so you must be vander," you say, the name ringing back through your sifted memories -- vi on a tuesday night, after a movie about race cars or something, chattering about the bar and how her stepdad always gets on her about flirting with the customers too much.

vander nods, taking a soft puff of his pipe and leaning back.

"and you must be the neighbor girl that vi's not been able to shut up about," he muses, making you gag on your next sip of water. he lets out another booming laugh and reaches behind the counter to hand you a stack of napkins. you mop at the water dripping down your chin, feeling your cheeks burn.

"sorry, sorry -- forgive an old man his good time," he says with another good-natured wink before his jovial expression flattens, "but if you're here wonderin' what she's been doin'... then you're fresh outta luck, darlin'."

you frown, cupping your fingers around your half-drunk glass of water.

"i'm just... worried about her."

vander grunts, shrugging up a single, massive shoulder.

"standing room only on that bus, i'm afraid."

you let out a soft scoff of laughter, nodding.

"it's sweet of you to come knockin', but... she's a stubborn one, and if she doesn't wanna tell us then..." another shrug, another sigh, "no one's gonna be able to force it outta her."

you nod again, feeling rather wilted as vander reaches over to pat your shoulder with a large hand. he chuckles.

"tell ya what, here -- have a drink -- on the house."

he grabs a wine glass and sets it in front of you with a tiny flourish. as second later, a deep red liquid fills your glass and you stare up at him as he grins.

"i figured you were a cab sav kind of girl -- but tell me if i'm wrong, and i'll swap it out for anything else you might like."

you shake your head, laughing as you tug the wine glass closer, "nope. you're spot on."

apartment neighbor!vi who shows up hammered, with no preamble, banging down your door a on friday night (though it really is late enough to be called saturday morning) -- you answer with a frying pan clutched in one hand, a hissing sigh whistling through you the second you see who's on the other side. the pan drops and you're about to be angry, but your eyes catch on the fresh bruises blooming across the high of her cheeks, a bump the side of a golf ball swelling up above her right eye.

"o-oh my god, vi! what happened?!" you jump back as she nearly collapses into your doorway, barely catching herself against your shoe-rack.

"jus... missed you, sugar! can't a girl... miss... someone she likes?" she slurs, shaking her head as she pushes herself up; you blink rapidly at her, your chest a tight whirlwind of questions and concerns. it's all eclipsed, however, by alarm, as she lurches into your apartment and nearly smashes into your hallway wall, looping an arm around your shoulder -- you stumble beneath her weight, struggling to keep her upright.

"vi? vi -- you're drunk --"

"nah this ain't nothin' -- just wanted a few after -- after getting beat up, ain't that normal? damn -- got so fucked in the ring -- that match was fixed -- shoulda known smeech couldn't be trusted -- that slimy, money-hungry bastard --"

you somehow manage to half-drag vi into your living room and dump her on the couch, fluttering around for a large glass of water and a first aid kit.

"what -- what're you saying?" you ask, even as you force her to take a large gulp of water (she makes a face as if it's vodka before downing the rest in a few long gulps -- a few beads of water trickle passed her chin and into the collar of her stained tanktop). but in between the fragments and incoherent mumbles, a slow realization starts to coalesce inside you as you inch closer to her and convince her to sit still.

"vi...?"

"mm." she hiccups, flinching slightly as you dab at a cut on her cheek with an antibacterial wipe.

"are you... in some sort of... fight club, or something?"

vi makes a grumbling noise, her eyes fluttering closed; she sways a little as you continue to gently clean out her wounds. her breath carries the sharp, turpenic smell of cheap alcohol as she lets out a long sigh.

"somethin' like that... kinda like a boxing ring -- i'm pretty damn good at it, most nights," she adds, hissing again even as you jerk back, pursing your lips. she crinkles her nose before wiping a hand across her mouth, staring blankly down at the fresh blood smeared onto her skin.

"and... i'm gonna go out on a limb and guess that this boxing ring thing... isn't legal, right?"

vi tries her best at one of her usual, charming, lopsided grins, but it just ends up looking something like a grimace instead.

"legal's not where the money is, sweetness."

you lean forward with a fresh sanitary wipe and motion for her to hold still again. she does, offering you her other cheek, her eyes now startlingly clear as they flicker over the planes of your face. you wonder how drunk she really is, or if she's just gotten terribly good at hiding it.

"but... i thought that you guys were in a rent-controlled unit? what'dyou need all this money for?"

vi scoffs, her eyes lowering.

"pow's university tuition isn't gonna pay for itself."

her voice is soft, low, her words steady. you pause, frowning slightly at her as she sighs and leans back to cast you a sad little grin.

"ah... now that i've told you, 'fraid i'm gonna have to killa ya," she winks. you don't smile, only turning to discard the dirty wipe for another fresh one.

"i thought the bar --"

"it doesn't make enough -- and powder -- she --" vi sucks in a long breath, her eyes fluttering closed. when she opens them again, it's the eyes you remember, the eyes you'd spent so many afternoons and evenings staring into -- there's light and laughter, a fire that can't be extinguished, a light that can't be dimmed, a hard-lined conviction that makes them shine even on the darkest of moonless nights.

"she deserves every opportunity. that girl --" vi lets out a helpless little scoff, "she's gonna change the world one day, i just know it. if we can only --" she makes an abortive gesture with her hand.

you nod, reaching out to wipe away a small smudge of eyeliner beneath her eye. she stills beneath your touch, the cool of your skin against her burning cheek makes her shiver.

a thin tendril of tired, incredulous laughter slithers up your chest; vi's eyebrows kick up as you let out a giggle -- the only warning she gets -- before you're toppling into a fit of truly stomach-clenching laughter, leaning back into your sofa cushions, clutching your belly.

"a-are you alright?" vi asks, blinking at you with mild alarm as you shake your head, flapping your hands at her, unable to form any kind of coherent thought. you wipe at the tears forming at the corner of your eyes, and somewhere between one breath and the next, your laughs turn into frustrated sobs, and you shove vi reproachfully as she stares at you, totally nonplussed by this strange turn of events.

"y-you're such an idiot!" you say between heaving breaths, rubbing at your eyes. you feel lightheaded; the clock on the microwave blinks a bleary 4:42AM at the pair of you.

vi stares, completely nonplussed as you sniffled and reach over to snag a few tissues, daubing at your eyes.

"there're so many things you can do to get money -- you don't have to --" you gesture at her, "get yourself killed in an illegal fighting ring -- and you don't --" you jab a single finger into her chest, hard enough for her to flinch back, "have to try to do it alone."

she blinks, once, twice --

"uh..."

you sigh, rolling your eyes, "god, you're so stupid -- for someone with a genius sister --"

vi makes a slightly affronted noise, "i got good grades in school!"

you tear open a packet of neosporin with perhaps more savagery than necessary, nearly dropping it. you glare at the tiny packet before squeezing a large dollop onto your finger and motioning for vi to lean in. she eyes you for a solid three seconds before slowly leaning forward.

you lave the gel onto the cut on her cheek before peeling open a bandaid to cover it up.

"there. that's waterproof, so it won't come off when you take a shower."

"when i take a shower?" vi asks, her head cocking to one side.

you cast her a sharp look, "you're so gross right now, of course you've gotta shower."

vi hiccups into her fist before shooting you a sheepish grin.

"i could just shower at home."

you narrow your eyes, "it's 5am -- and i'm pretty sure powder's got a massive midterm tomorrow. you're staying here tonight."

"ah. yes. of... course," vi says, biting back an amused chuckle before looking around at the couch beneath her.

"well, i've always liked this couch."

you close the first-aid kit with a sharp snap.

"if you shower within the next --" you glance back at the clock on the microwave, "10 minutes or so, you can sleep in the bedroom. but if i'm asleep when you're done then you're gonna have to sleep out here -- i don't like being woken up." you try to sound stern, though it might have just come out sounding petulant.

vi grins, the expression so familiar to you it singes a line of heat down the center of your spine.

"oop -- guess i'd better shower quick then!" she pushes off the sofa and jogs for the bathroom, swiveling around by the door to give you a soft smile and a -- "hey... thanks."

you roll your eyes at her and flap your hand, "go. shower!"

you slip into bed, listening to the shower water run, a twist of something collecting in your gut as you hear the sounds of the water turn off and the unmistakable noises of vi toweling off. you burrow further into your blankets as her footsteps thump through the apartment, the slight creak of your bedroom door swinging open as she slips in, the shape of her limned in moonlight as she slowly makes her way to the other side of the bed.

"hey sugar... you still awake?"

you crinkle your nose, and for a second, consider feigning sleep. but the next second, she's slipping into the blankets next to you, her skin warm to the touch as she shuffles closer.

"yeah," you answer, a second later.

she shuffles just a bit closer; you flip around to face her, gasping as you realize how close she is -- your noses almost touching. her eyes widen as they meet yours, and you could swear that even in the pre-dawn dark, you can see her cheeks rioting with color.

she clears her throat but doesn't make to pull away.

"y'know, usually when i get invited into someone's bed... it's a lot sexier than this."

you puff out a breathy laugh, "yeah? i'm sure. why don't you tell me about it tomorrow, when we're compiling all the scholarships that we're gonna help powder apply to?"

vi falls quiet, her gaze going startlingly liquid, and for a second, you wonder if she's going to cry too. but then, she's leaning in, pressing her forehead to yours --

"god... sweets... what the fuck did i do to deserve you?"

you snuggle in closer, your heartbeat a livewire thrum at the back of your throat.

"nothing... you were just... you."

vi lets out a shaky breath, her eyes falling shut.

"shit, sugar... what the hell, man... it wasn't supposed to be like this."

you laugh as she sniffles, tugging you closer, her palm warm along your waist, her fingers pressing into your skin.

"yeah? did you have it all planned out? help the new girl move in? watch movies and make food with her on the weekends till she falls in love with you?"

vi's breath hitches. you bite your tongue.

still, she doesn't refute you. finally, she manages --

"i just... never thought it'd... get this bad..."

you sigh, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her forehead.

"y'know, for a smart girl, you're really dumb sometimes."

vi pulls back, sighing, "yeah... i -- i know. and i know that powder and vander probably know too -- they just -- they just... knew me too well to try and --"

"force it out of you?" you supply. vi nods, her hair tickling your skin as she burrow in against you, her body curling in till she's in a fetal position, her face pressed into your chest, her breath fanning hot against your collarbones.

"well, lucky for me --" you say, reaching up to run a hand through her hair, caressing at the still-damp ends, "i didn't have to -- you came knocking all on your own."

vi's quiet for another few beats before --

"i wasn't lying y'know... i really did... miss you." her voice catches, the words cracking over one another like river stones.

you graze your lips along her hairline, nodding, "yeah, i know... i missed you too, vi."

she wraps her arms around you and pulls you in, pressing you to her so completely your chest almost starts to sting with the pressure.

a few minutes later, she relents, releasing you just enough for you to suck in a long, steadying breath.

"did you really mean it? that thing about... the scholarships for powder?"

you nod, "course i did. and we can look up loans too! i had to take one out when i went to college too, so i'm pretty familiar with them. it's alright -- we'll figure it out -- together."

vi nods, chuckling softly against you.

"mm... before all that though..." she tugs back just far enough to look at you, her voice husky as she leans in to brush her nose to yours --

"d'you think... you might allow me the honor of making you breakfast?"

[hdusa]

lowkey nepo baby ending I wonder how things would’ve gone if everyone on my side lived 😭😭

[vaguely-concerned]

thinking about how deeply lucanis' life has been defined by a lack of control of that life -- as he himself points out, even before the ossuary went and carved the headline out again with big bloody letters. of course he reacts badly to losing what little control he did manage to construct for himself even within those circumstances.

(namely: experience has taught him that things (caterina, loss, pain, love, all horribly and indelibly intermingled) will happen to him whether he wants them to or not and there's nothing he can do about that... but he gets to decide what's let in or out of his soul as it happens, even if he has to close it all down and deaden and numb himself out in the process. (even if that means he drifts further and further away from illario, who's been desperately reaching out and trying to keep hold of him until he finally gives up completely and tries to cut the bond all at once when lucanis doesn't seem to reach back anymore.) it's such rare well-observed freeze logic solidly constructed from the bottom up, I'm still so impressed with it.

the way illario seeks constant external means to cope with caterina's abuse and importance in his life -- he can't win her admiration or acceptance or warmth (or like. acknowledgement even, at times :') ), no matter what, so he goes out and finds those things in others and then disdains and dismisses it for how easily and falsely it's won from them. he plots, he conspires, he tries to beat her at her own game however clumsily, he tries. lucanis doesn't try things that way. he's not about 'how do I improve my situation' by nature, he's 'how can I stop this from getting worse'. he avoids, he internalizes, he hunkers down and makes himself nothing until the pain maybe ends. he's fundamentally not a plotter, he's a reacter. an expert assassin pantser, if you will, to illario's clear and stated exasperation fhsak. man I love them. illario says 'get us out of here!!! if you loved me as I love you you'd help me get us out of here before it kills us both', lucanis says 'there is no other place, there's nowhere to go, all we can do is endure. and if it kills us... well, that's just family. that's what love is (the way things are headed I'll die first anyway so it's fine I won't have to face losing you)', and they're equally baffled and hurt by each other's POV. but they're both right, and they're both wrong. there's no 'right' way to deal with caterina's treatment of them, or their situation. the house always wins, if you pardon the expression. house dellamorte still stands and that is what matters to caterina in the end more than anything.

it also fits so well b/c like... their core wounds are that illario is the least favourite and is constantly dismissed, so he has to prove to caterina again and again that he matters. not even that he's worth love or respect or warm regard, but that he's here at all and as such should be considered. he has to shout 'in case u forgot I EXIST!!' at the top of his lungs or else be rendered nothing within the family structure (and himself, because it's all about family, that's all that really matters. in some weird twisted way I think caterina openly declaring him before all the other crows to still be of house dellamorte -- and no one from house dellamorte kneels -- is kind of a victory for him, as much as it's also a furthering of a prison sentence and public humiliation. house dellamorte brainfuckery goes hard.). lucanis is the favourite, and it's the double-edged sword that he gets all the affection and attention but also all the control and impossible expectations. drowning under all of that constant stress and close evaluation, his brain whispers 'I don't exist' to try to escape, to hide and hold on to the deep parts of himself that are crucial to life but not part of the perfect grandson caterina demands of him as the price of her love.)

I think a lot about how what seems to disquiet lucanis the most post-ossuary (as it would anyone with that psychological makeup) is the dissolving of internal boundaries and control he's been relying on, which is part of what spite symbolizes. his anger and reactivity has seceded from the union to the point of personification as a little guy (a little guy he resents and fears for his unpredictability and invasions into regions of his psyche he wishes to stay frozen and barren, and yet cares about deeply, loves! and also constantly dismisses and frequently helplessly lets down unless he's helped to learn to do otherwise. does this remind you of another relationship in his life, perhaps. it makes me feel nuts to think about the illario/spite parallels thanks for asking), and now that little guy is out there running the show freely the moment he glances away or closes his eyes. literal nightmare scenario I feel for him so deeply. so much of his coping is predicated on being able to Not do or feel or want certain things, and that's out the window now, Spite has Opinions. Spite refuses to stay wisely in place even if that place is hell on the logic that if you move you could find yourself in a place that's even worse, somehow. Spite actually wants to experience the world, however fucked up and scarring the way he arrived here, not just endure it. Spite means he has to face that maybe illario wasn't wrong all those years, at the same time as having to admit and face what illario has done to him, and figure out what to do about any of it.

anyway. mary kirby ma'am that's some good fucking metaphor work. thank you, and sorry about all the shit that happened

[archiepelago]

alternate surface au inspired by a few ive seen around on tumblr :3

[kaiserouo]

civilian in the mall

[snabeus]

hhhough barbie movie thoughts…

i don’t think the “im going to see my gynecologist” line isn’t only just for us to know that barbie is fully human. the scene of her in the real world for a second (at least to me) seemed to imply barbie was getting some sort of dream job and found her purpose. but no. she’s just going to see a gynecologist. but the way she is so EXCITED… the way she’s taking the joy in this mundane thing that lots of women go through… the barbie movie is about enjoying just being ALIVE

TERFS GO AWAY 🍅 🍅 🍅

[willyhoos]

I MADE THE STRAWBERRY🍓 MACARONS, HE BROUGHT THE CHERRY🍒 SYRUP.

[beetleoops]

You keep getting married to Beetlejuice

This fucker loves to party (and he loves you), so you are having weddings constantly

You officially get married in private, with only Lydia, the Deetzs and the Maitlands there. You take it easy so he can adjust to being alive, but Delia still throws a pretty fun party- if a little...odd. Still, it's enough for Beetlejuice to learn his alcohol tolerance isn't NEARLY as high now that he has a heartbeat.

"Babes!! I cannot fuckin wait to get married to you all over again." He's half asleep, laying his entire weight on you, reeking of booze, smiling like a dope. "Uh-huh. Me too, Beej." You pat his back.

(Also, turns out now that he sleeps for real, he snores. you think its cute.)

Once he's human (and more or less used to it), you have a more traditional wedding with your friends and family all there, and throw an all night reception and after party at a bar - beej loves the energy and is cheering on your grandparents to throw ass on the dance floor all night

"Fuck it up Agnes! Hell yeah!" (This is probably not your grandma's name. Actually, is that even your grandma?)

This goes over not great, but better than expected; everyone has a good time. You do too, of course. You are drunk and wearing white and laughing so loud, and when you aren't dancing, Beetlejuice can barely keep his hands off you. Hell, when you ARE dancing Beetlejuice can't keep his hands off you.

you go to Las Vegas for the honeymoon and get married again - Beej insists on the most tacky wedding possible and you agree.

You get married by an Elvis impersonater in a sticky little chapel on the strip. You wear a suit, and he wears a tight, short wedding dress with a veil and pumps.

"third time's the charm?" You ask, when Elvis finally says to kiss the groom. " Oh no, babes. We're hitting the drive through wedding chapel next."

"Deal!" And you dip him before kissing him square in the mouth.

You keep getting married to Beetlejuice, because you both want to make fucking SURE it sticks.

[thedaythatwas]

on nagito komaeda and love

I just think it’s sort of funny that for a character whose (arguably) most well-recognized CG is this: 

komaeda’s narrative so heavily centers love. and I don’t just say this because I’ve had komahina brainrot for years (though this is true!!). even if you don’t care about komahina, it’s tough to deny komaeda is a walking tragedy in large part because of the role that love plays in his life. his characterization is driven by the way his luck has denied him love, and how he seeks it out regardless. in that sense, I think that without understanding komahina as at least one-sided, you miss out on one of the juiciest, most miserable pieces of komaeda’s character development.

tldr; a love-centered reading of komaeda makes sense, recognizing komahina as “a thing” in DR2 (whether you ship it or not) is pretty important to understanding how komaeda operates, and I’ll try to prove it right here under this page break!!

Part 1: Komaeda’s Love Life (or, his life without love)

I think it’s safe to assume that if you clicked here, you know about komaeda’s absurdly miserable, tumultuous childhood, but I’ll do a quick recap just in case! meteor kills his parents on a plane, he inherits a ton of money. he’s kidnapped by a serial killer, he finds a winning lottery ticket in the garbage bag he’s thrown out in. he’s diagnosed with terminal cancer and dementia, he gets into hope’s peak.

in his free time events, komaeda *explicitly* frames his luck cycle as something that takes away the people he loves. it only “takes action” against him after his relatives have died (for the sake of this essay, let’s assume that komaeda loved his parents, or would have at least been hurt by their passing). by way of other close connections… well, his wording here implies that by the time of his diagnosis, he didn’t really have anybody in his life. 

either komaeda didn’t allow himself to get close to anyone after the meteor incident, or he did, and they were taken away by his luck. at some point during his childhood, komaeda learned he should view himself as a death sentence.

so, how does this loss of love shape the komaeda we know? I’ll talk about this in terms of four of his defining (and connected!) traits in DR2 canon – the ones that really make his actions make sense: his self-loathing, his hope-seeking, his learned helplessness, and his certainty that his existence poses a threat to those around him. komaeda’s experience with loss makes him view himself as a source of death, which in turn fuels these tenets of his character. ultimately, his loss and the complexes that arise from it give him good incentive to push people away.

his self-loathing

komaeda hates himself. he views himself as worthless outside of his potential to serve as a “stepping stone” for the hope of the ultimates. he claims that this is driven by his beliefs around talent, which are in turn linked to the way his worldview rests on viewing hope as “absolute good.” the talentless (himself included) are only good for advancing the hope of the talented. still, his self-loathing is a bit more personal than that. take what he says and dig just below the surface, and it’s a clean cut trauma response all the way down. which leads us directly to…

his hope-seeking

komaeda is willing to do literally anything to serve hope. on the island, this (in short) means dying. this is where I prod at komaeda’s reasoning a bit more: komaeda’s willingness to act the way he does in canon also stems from his belief that his dying would be a net good for the world. his existence kills the people around him. his illness will kill him anyway. he has less than no value, and hope is invaluable. to go out for the sake of hope would give his wretched life purpose; it’s his dream come true.

and it’s no mystery why komaeda cares so much about hope: again, it’s a coping mechanism! komaeda’s belief that all bad luck is a necessary precursor for good luck and that hope will always triumph over despair is (as he himself says!) the only reason he’s managed to stay alive. I’ll say it again because I really can’t emphasize it enough – komaeda thinks that just by existing, he kills the people he loves. ouch!

learned helplessness / his existence as a threat

komaeda has, essentially, learned to submit to his luck cycle. all bad luck is good luck in the end – isn’t that amazing?! almost paradoxically, he’s hyper-vigilant about the negative impact his luck has on those around him. this is a tricky one. I make sense of it this way: komaeda’s perception of how much his luck impacts the people close to him isn’t inflated, like, at all. the supernatural way the world bends around komaeda to screw him over really does pose a danger to himself and others, and he takes measures to minimize that danger. his stated acceptance of his luck cycle is… well, again, he’s coping. 

if komaeda really thought that all bad luck is ultimately good luck, he wouldn’t try to protect his classmates from his bad luck. but, as we see in island mode, he does!

but really, who could blame komaeda for lying to himself? I’ll restate the facts. komaeda thinks that luck is absolute power. he says that he’s powerless against it. his luck has taken his family, and it’s left him with nothing but money that he doesn’t want. he’s certain he’s a curse, and there’s no end to that in sight: so long as komaeda exists, he’ll keep on losing – murdering – everything he loves. 

in the face of all of that despair, what can you do but abandon your self-esteem and pray for something good to come out of all of it? how else could somebody possibly survive carrying that burden, truly believing that load will never be lightened?

tldr; komaeda thinks his existence is a threat, and a big chunk of his personality is a frankensteined way of surviving the pain that comes with that. still, we should question how much of his worldview komaeda has really internalized without inner conflict. 

Part 2: Enter Hajime Hinata

we get some answers on that front when we see that despite the clear and obvious danger it poses, nagito komaeda still finds himself falling hard for hajime hinata. that’s really, really loud.

I’ll preface this part by saying that you don’t need to actively ship komahina to understand what I’m trying to get at here. this said, I’ll be recapping an argument you’ve almost definitely seen before: komahina is definitely “a thing” – at the very least as a one-sided thing. to this, I’ll add the (perhaps bold?) claim that without recognizing that much as true, you’re missing out on a big part of what makes komaeda so interesting.

komaeda’s FTEs make it abundantly clear that komaeda has feelings for hinata. apart from his famed failed love confession, the fact that komaeda is willing to allow hinata to get close enough to learn about his views on hope and luck is telling. 

(the smoking gun here hinges on trusting that komaeda was telling the truth during the time you spent with him; in so many words, that he only lied about lying. so, for the sake of argument, let’s assume this is true! there’s good proof for it, anyway.)

if you read his final FTE as komaeda flashing his soul to hinata and making a decision at the very last second to retreat, turning to old coping mechanisms to protect hinata from his luck, it’s sort of a komahina bombshell. that capitulation spells out for us that komaeda understands sharing his life experiences with hinata to be one of the most intimate things he could possibly do.

he recognizes the exact moment he lets hinata get too close – when his life story is finally told – and he does what he’s learned he needs to do to get them both out of that situation safely: he tries to make hinata hate him, and tells himself (and hinata!) that he did it for the sake of hope.

(and yet, komaeda let hinata approach him every FTE, knowing damn well that they were both playing with fire… very interesting.)

now, let’s say you don’t consider the FTEs to be integral to canon. I mean, you can really easily miss out on all of komaeda’s content if you choose not to hang out with him in chapter 1! so, for the skeptic, in the unskippable main story, komaeda tells hinata this:

komaeda cares about hinata despite everything. and I really, truly mean despite everything. at this point in the story, the fact that he still cares about hinata calls into question basically every single one of his core beliefs. he’s read his final dead room prize – not only does hinata not have a talent, we can presume that komaeda also knows hinata became ultimate despair along with the rest of them. 

hinata has continually sought out komaeda’s company, even though komaeda knows himself to be worthless at best, lethal at worst. komaeda was willing to let him get closer, even though he knows how dangerous that is for hinata. he can’t help but let hinata try to know him. 

isn’t he awful? to want what he knows he can’t have, even though that wanting has never done anything but cause pain? he’s really the lowest of the low, to love someone who destroyed the world, who makes him question the views that will allow him to do the only good thing he’s ever been able to do for it: to die for hope. 

and yet, it’s a nod to how incredibly capable of love komaeda is that he’s still willing to reach out for it, no matter how many times it’s burned him in the past, and how much it hurts him in the present to want it. he understands more than anyone that his feelings can only result in disaster. reading komaeda as someone who can’t help but go on loving anyway makes his story hurt so much worse. 

but, you miss a whole lot of that without an eye for komahina. seeing hinata as the eye of komaeda’s emotional hurricane (and keeping tabs on their connection accordingly) allows us to glimpse past the cracks in komaeda’s front. we see that komaeda’s worldview is less stable than he presents it as – hinata is where komaeda’s coping mechanisms, for better or worse, run up against a wall. that tends to be uncomfortable for a guy who’s just barely coping in the first place. then again, growth is supposed to be uncomfortable, isn’t it?

Part 3: The Future He Chooses

so, all of this considered, I think one of the most interesting ways you can flesh komaeda out post-canon is by asking how he’d find himself willing to accept love. whether that love is from hinata or the ultimates, whether it’s platonic or romantic, love is the thing that komaeda wants AND fears in equal measure more than anything. it’s the source of his self-loathing and his obsession with hope. it’s the reason he’s lived the way that he has for so long – lonely, and afraid of being anything but.

getting into a relationship wouldn’t solve komaeda’s problems for him, and that’s a good thing. it would force him to confront old ones, and probably create dozens of new issues for him, too. writing him through that makes for great character study!

hinata (or anyone else, for that matter) can’t love komaeda into loving himself, but he can give him a shoulder to cry on while he works through 22 years of fear and sorts through the wreckage of a worldview that’s long since stopped serving him. I don’t think his progress would be linear. but, I think that he could do it. komaeda learning to accept care is what his healing looks like. 

(well. and physically recovering from cancer and dementia. but that’s neither here nor there!)

a post-canon komaeda learning to love narrative is also in line with the themes of DR2. hinata leads the survivors out of the neo world program because he makes the decision to choose his own future, creating a new version of “hope” for himself and his classmates. likewise, komaeda can make the decision to save himself. that is, if he trusts himself enough to actually touch and hold the thing that he’s never been able to stop reaching out for, anyway.

after all, hinata is lucky too. (and if it turns out he isn’t… y'all like angst fics, right?)

(shoutout to @cynopter for looking this over and confirming that I'm not spouting nonsense <33 thank you for reading my thesis of the week <33)

[sugurouge]

── "𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚."

Calm. Happy. At ease. Tamed. Words Sylus would have never chosen to describe himself with. Much rather proud, striking, confident. A creature of control, always the hunter. But it all changed the first time her fingers ran through his hair after he took his helmet off, a gentle touch laden with a gravity he hadn’t realised he was orbiting. Suddenly, his favourite ritual became picking her up on his bike just to have her fix his appearance, letting her rewrite him strand by silver strand. And he would come to return the kindness tenfold. Because the sight of her rendered him defenseless: Windblown and laughing, cheeks glowing bright under the ruby moon of the N109 zone as he ran his fingers through her tousled strands. Though it were those predatory eyes that dared him into a silent game of who would fall first that Sylus grew addicted to.

He did.

He crash landed, collided into her. By now there is a weight that settles in his chest when she isn't near, followed by a strange lightness when she is. It clings to him like a pulling force, leading him to her arms, her lap, the curve of her neck, where peace hums just beneath her skin. She became the atmosphere that holds him together. With her, he doesn't feel like he's lost anymore. He just wants to land. To rest. Home, it turns out, is a place right by her side.

Maybe he's the one who walked willingly into her trap, weightless and disarmed from the beginning, eager for her to catch him. And now that he's here, floating in this quiet euphoria of being known, Sylus admits: he would give her the whole universe if she asked.

the wild and untameable make an exception for their beloved. close proximity and touch are how animals show affection. i’ve never tried to hide them from you. my gaze, my gestures, and every single step i take toward you.

happy birthday, my beloved 🖤

art: puri24a on twitter. please don't reupload or use