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#i love his new design im FOAMING AT THE MOUTH
shiny-armin · 9 months
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my man looking dashing as ever
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iiikaruz · 11 months
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New CH episodes have made me officially decide to stop caring about the actual cast of the show </3 (/hj but i wish it was /j)
Anyway would you like to share some of your headcanons/scenarios for the side/minor characters ? It always makes my day 💚💖(/nf)
dude i feel you on these new episodes. wtf is going on over there. anyways, i’ll gladly dump this 10 ton stack of headcanons on you that i wrote down!! Marie Antoinette: 
loves hyperpop and 90s house music. she’s so slay (i have a playlist lol)
into european weirdo cinema like Gaspar Noe’s but she also likes chick flicks (her fave films are Climax (2018), Daisies (1966), and But I’m A Cheerleader (1999).)
frequents on lolita forums and goes to really shady places just to get cute lolita items.
has absolutely mastered voguing. super into ballroom culture.
has a pet borzoi (those groovy long-nosed dogs.) her name is “Vanille” and Marie loves her dearly.
wants to study fashion. she especially loves Vivienne Westwood and Moschino.
Jesús Cristo:
is a juggalo, and he indoctrinated Van Gogh into it as well.
says “it is what it is” at any minor inconvenience.
had a mental crisis at 13 as a product to the stress of living up to his clone father. similar to joan’s breakdown in s1e3 but 10x worse. he tries to ignore it when people bring it up.
designated driver on any road trip. for some reason.
into bands like The Cure whilst also bopping to Cypress Hill.
his fave video game is Parappa the Rapper.
accidentally punching holes/nails into his hand is a common occurrence. seems like it just keeps happening, so he’s learned to just roll with it. he’s also a pretty good nurse bc of it.
Marilyn Monroe:
is always down for the school play. BUT she usually just does script-writing and tech. 
into conspiracy theories and video essays. (all gorgeous gorgeous girls love video essays).
is a dedicated Britney Spears and Gwen Stefani stan.
SO “COQUETTE LIZZY GRANT DIOR RETRO” in her fashion choice.
she also gives “elle woods from legally blonde” vibes. straight A student right here.
CERTIFIED GIRLBOSS <3
Thomas Edison:
is obsessed with American Psycho (2000). he has a poster in his room and he’s weirdly obsessed with Christian Bale (very 🍎🍉🍊 of him, but he always excuses it with “oh no, i just idolize and worship him. there’s absolutely nothing gay ab it.” he’s lying.)
also he’s SUCH a pretentious film bro. he has a whole library of stupid film facts shoved in the back of his mind (im totally not projecting).
he only listens to: 80s new-wave stuff like New Order, Oingo Boingo, Beastie Boys, & Talking Heads OR Lana del Rey. There is no in between.
he worked (past-tense bc that shit is GONE in 2023) at a blockbuster video store next to the mall and he liked being a total bitch to people about it (example: “you really rented this shit? this movie sucks, dude”)
after getting unfreezed, he was ECSTATIC over how easy pirating movies is nowadays.
Napoleon Bonaparte:
member of the speech/debate club and he is THE WORST TO BE PAIRED WITH. he’s foaming at the mouth the moment someone gives a rebuttal he didn’t think of. some meetings end in him trying to beat up someone. 
into 80s rock like Metallica and Black Sabbath. he has an electric guitar. he also FUCKING LOVES ABBA AND JAMIROQUAI. like… too much.
unlawfully good at Just Dance. he absolutely fucks it up on the dance floor.
adores fantasy films like Conan (1982) and The Never-Ending Story(1984). he’s so lame/ pos.
he bakes really well. that’s all he’s got going for him.
he either found his napoleonic military uniform at party city or at a thrift store with Marie Antoinette; his story changes depending on who he’s talking to.
he cut his own hair when he was 14. the following conversation after he did so was with caesar, and it was just the haircut scene from fleabag . he then continued to keep his stupid haircut to what it is now.
is a hopeless romantic. he can make up entire love poems & sonnets in his head about a girl he’s crushing on, but literally cannot talk to people without sounding like a douchebag unless he’s super comfortable w/ them.
Ivan the Terrible:
is an avid deftones, sewerslvt, & duster listener (i, unfortunately, ALSO have a playlist.)
spends his nights scrolling on 4chan and arguing w/ people. him & topher have accidentally argued w/ each other AT LEAST 5 times.
literally refuses to take off his ushanka in any weather. it doesn’t matter to him if it’s 90 degrees, that thing is staying ON.
kins Travis Bickle and Shinji Ikari. i mean, just look at this dude and how he presents himself. average NGE & Taxi Driver enjoyer/ hj.
fave video games are Postal 2 and osu!. he plays osu! phenomenally, to the point where it’s impressive. (pls put that energy into a job or something).
and yea that’s all the energy i have to write this down :]
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charmspoint · 2 years
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Please do rant about the misuse of Chuuya if you have the will and time. He used to be my favourite (still is really) but nothing happened with him! It's awful
It's a bsd day isn't, i can sit here and pretend i'm all into jjk now but till the rest of my days ill be ready to foam at the mouth about bsd after i have forgotten who gojo satoru is THATS IMPACT BABY
Anyway: Chuuya Nakahara, what a crime
Context wise, I got into bsd around the time the anime started. I think it was either one of those instances where i watched the first episode and immediately binged the manga or saw the synopsis and binged the manga before watching, one of those two.
Things we knew about Chuuya back then?
Jack
Shit
Dazai's ex (partner)
We had that scene when Dazai gets caught and of course the coveted panel of Dazai and Chuuya as kids, i would post it here but for some reason tumblr decided i get no picture rights but everyone and their dog knows what im talking about.
The thing was Chuuya is so fucking cool. His design? Top notch. His chemistry with Dazai? Top notch. His character even outside that relationship? Top notch.
He had the coolest fucking design and a mysterious relationship with one of fan favorite characters. He was angry and snappy which perfectly bounced off of Dazai's annoying coolness but as soon as he was away from Dazai he tended to show much calmer and kind hearted side. Also he was hot and strong. Instant fan fav.
When i said Kafka's writing problems could be seen even back then i really meant it, even then Chuuya was underutilized. Think about it. Chuuya is a part of soukoku generations. Out of Dazai, Atsushi n Akutagawa, Chuuya was the only one that didn't really get any solo development. He was pretty much something for Dazai to have in his past.
But we still loved him!
That was a wild west for Chuuya fics because the only thing we really knew was that he was Dazai's partner and that Kouyou was his mentor (and ill get to Kouyou). So basically! Anything went! I've read SO MANY fics about guessing at Chuuya's backstory (we can all remember how popular french chuuya was, and also cough cough prostitute chuuya) the fandom was just going wild it was great. I wasn't active as a write back then but one of my fav headcanons was that Chuuya was just some half feral kid Kouyou scooped off the street like 'my son now', there were some really good pieces in all of that.
More love than Kafka ever gave him thats for sure.
Because Chuuya is really really fucking strong. Not like Gojo strong, but he's up there in his own universe you know. So what does that mean? Go to the bus stop young man and sit there. Chuuya basically, god he wasn't a character if he wasn't needed for Dazai stuff. Cannibalisation was Such.A.Waste.
A little of topic but here's what i would have done with cannibalisation: so we took the guild arc to (allegedly tho honestly even this is wonky in canon) build relationships within ada and pm right? Come cannibalisation and ooop they are at each each others throats again but why? It feels like throwing a whole arc in the water. Instead of just sic'ing them at each other again wouldnt it have been more rewarding to like??? keep building??? on those reletionships??? like ada n pm being reluctant to go in another all out war with connections they made during the vs guild war??? Soukoku and shin soukoku should have lead that front! Instead we just kinda resolve to everyone fighting each other
AND CHUUYA GETS BENCHED LIKE NO OTHER
THE BOOK
THE FUCKING BOOK
UGH
Im still so angry. Remember when it happened and we were all like :D!!! WOW COOL!!! AN ULTIMATE BRAIN VS BRAWN SHOWDOWN THIS WILL BE SO AWESOME and then slowly we started to realize that...chuuya and ranpo werent coming back. It was such a fun idea everyone was excited for but it wasnt going to happen. Kafka wasnt transporting them to a new and interesting battle arena, he was escorting them out of the court because he didnt want to worry about them at the moment.
Ranpo comes out
Chuuya doesnt
and for the longest damn time it just feels like kafka completely forgot about him. No sign, no word, chapters pass.
He had one cool apperance which was admittedly really badass and disappears again woops hes a vampire now
i wasnt keeping up with bsd anymore at the vampire point but lemme tell you god i about lost it
HES A VAMPIRE NOW
HES A VAMPIRE NOW
IS HE DEAD WONT SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME IF THAT MEANS HES DEAD????
KAFKA REALLY TOOK AWAY ONE OF THE FAN FAVORITE CHARACTERS, ONE OF THE MOST PROMISING CHARACTERS IN THE SHOW AND JUST FUCKIN TURNED HIM INTO A FYODOR HANDGUN IM LOSING MY MIND
Chuuya backstories
I was excited about Chuuya backstories i was. There were so many cool theories in the fandom i think everyone was eager to find out the canon truth.
He has a god inside of him.
He has a god inside of him.
Why?
Kafka, buddy, pal. Here's an advice from me to you. IF YOU ARE GOING TO PUT SOMETHING AS BIG AS A GOD IN YOUR STORY YOU SHOULD ESTABLISH THAT THOSE EXIST IN YOUR UNIVERSE BEFOREHAND
NOW
Now
I don't think most of the fandom disliked this take as much as i did though at that point i was pretty distant from most of the fandom cuz i really disliked what it became at the time (lets not get into THAT) BUT i blew my fuse on that
There are supernatural elements in bsd in terms of abilities right. Those seem p limited and grounded in their own way, perfectly applicable to the story. The only thing whack is lovecrafts ability but its LOVECRAFT of course hes allowed and even encouraged to be something freaky.
THAT ISNT ENOUGH TO ESTABLISH ACTUAL GODS ACTUALLY EXIST LIKE LOVECRAFT CAME OFF AS A GAG I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST THAT ONE CHARACTER CREATIVE TWIST A LIL MYSTERY IN THE WORLD BUT NO WE ARE STICKING WITH THIS WITH CHUUYA OF ALL PEOPLE HUH OKAY?
But you know what you know what i dont even care thats fine, i can live with jesus christ superstar chuuya thats fine
But then
Mother fucking Rimbaud.
Hey kafka? Why dont you just say you hate writing women huh?
So here's the thing right, heres the thing.
fifteen was about chuuya getting initiated into pm right? Remember how the only thing we knew about that is that dazai was his partner and kouyou was his mentor right? It would be natural to assume those two played a major role in that section then right?
Well Dazai at least gets to :D
KOUYOU GOT SO ROBBED
Like
MY GOD SHES HIS MENTOR
And here is where it really starts showing up for Chuuya, Kafkas tendency to, instead of exploring relationships with present characters, he just throws in new ones. We don't get to explore the relationship between Kouyou and Chuuya. Instead we get some dude literally mostly referred to as Rando-san and HE ends up being the person most responsible (aside from dazai) for getting chuuya into pm and HES the one who chuuya got his hat from which you know implies he was his mentor cuz of the handing of clothes thing and then to top it all off we get that stupid ass scene where chuuya is sitting on his grave talking to him
Kafka
buddy
I get it, i know. Dazai and Oda connection was really good, people adored that. BUT YOU CANT JUST COPY PASTE IT ON ANOTHER CHARACTER AND HOPE FOR THE SAME RESULTS YOU FUCKING HACK
At this point i dont care about bsd anymore. I stopped reading, i listen my friend talk about it but thats p much it
Stormbringer
I havent read stormbringer. I'm not going to read stormbringer. What i know about it is what can be read on the wiki and what i saw passing through my dash.
And im tired.
There is so much Chuuya backstory 2.0 could cover. His reletionship with Kouyou. Akutagawa. Black Lizard. Fuck Ive always wondered since Kouyou also mentored Kyouka did Kyouka have any sort of relationship with Chuuya.
Instead what do we get.
Another
Fucking
Group
Another fucking little group that was never ever mentioned before and that will never ever be mentioned again. Instead of exploring Chuuya's relationship with characters we know and care about, we get handed another batch of fresh out of the oven characters and we get told 'these are chuuyas friends! care about them!' NO??? I DONT???
Like would be SO hyped to explore chuuya in interaction with any of the other characters. I wrote two platonic soukoku stories, another one for Kyouyou and Aku were in plan i want this, i would read this, i would be interested in this.
But what i dont care about is seeing Chuuya bounce off of another random ass set of characters (+Dazai) who dont matter jack shit in the grand scale of things.
I'm just done! I care about Chuuya so much and i want him to be explored and well written but...god i just cant, i cant do it anymore i cant stand this vacuum worldbuilding. Chuuya doesnt seem like he has a relationship with anyone in pm aside from Dazai even tho he seems well beloved and instead of exploring those barren relationships we just get handed p much meaningless ones. That's just not how you build a character rooted firmly in your story. That's how you use a character so you have an excuse of introducing like seven more new ocs you couldnt fit anywhere else. It's exhausting. I don't know maybe stormbringer isnt like that but literally every summary i read about it sounds like that and im not about to go suffer Kafka to confirm the opposite, i'll just hole myself up with Izanyas versions of events thank you very much
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enderwalk · 3 years
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💕 and 💔
💕 tell us about one of your favorite characters and why you like them!
technoblade!! it's a tie between all of the sleepy bois, but i absolutely love techno's character. we all clowned on this man for not roleplaying and then he went and delivered the absolute fucking scariest lines. "you want to be a hero, tommy?" "do you feel tired, quackity?" "i have a pickaxe and i'll put it through your teeth?" absolutely terrifying. i love him. i'm a techno apologist through and through and absolutely believe he has every right to go apeshit. my man was used as a weapon and a tool and was cast aside whenever he wasn't useful, and then everyone called him a traitor when they used him to just start a whole new government right in front of him. he was in retirement, exiled himself from any other civilization, and the butcher army STILL came after him. i cannot wait for him and tommy to commit "minor terrorism" with their fifty withers.
im also just a huge simp for pretty boy techno designs. i see piglin hybrid techno with scars and jewelry and long braided hair and go absolutely insane. the more regal he looks while also committing mass murder the more i foam at the mouth.
💔 tell us about one of your LEAST favorite characters and why you dislike them.
i was about to say i didn't have a least favorite character but then i remembered c!dream exist and i feel a feral animal. i love actual dream, the streamer, but i see his character and start foaming at the mouth. i thought there could be some sort of way to be a c!dream apologist until the exile arc. i hope philza learns about what dream did to one of his boys so he and techno can just tear him apart <3
i also wasn’t a fan of george’s character but i didn’t have any reasons, but now i think he’s neat :] i loved his little cottagecore mushroom cottage but it was also WAY out of pocket to exile tommy for it when dream and wilbur and techno and tubbo have griefed far more and didn’t really get any punishment (except techno).
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kareofbears · 4 years
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persona 5 royal: my thoughts after finishing it five minutes ago
disclaimer: the only reason im writing this is because 1) i have a lot of thoughts and feelings that i need to write down and if i dont ill explode and 2) i want to be able to find this when p5s eventually drops so i can compare my thought processes. if you do not agree with what i’m going to say, that’s cool! just block me or ignore this post. 
now for the sake of sanity, i’m going to try and narrow down this entire list into chunks because this’ll probably be very very long and very much about me just screaming about stuff that i liked, loved, and don’t like. i will be spoiling both the original persona 5 and persona 5 royal, obviously, so i hope you finished both!
1) Akechi
so yes. Goro Akechi. Everyone’s favorite murderer. I’m going to by spewing a lot of hot takes, and this is probably going to be the spiciest: i am in the most intense love-hate relationship with this brown haired antagonist because jesus christ is he a complicated son of a bitch. I know i’ve complained in the past about how much Atlus often struggles with utilizing a character well, but that does not at all relate to Akechi in any way, shape, or form. 
I’ll say this now: He is a character I genuinely, truly hate, yet he is the one I want to hear from the most. He is someone who is a bad person (yes, he is a bad person) but whenever he comes on screen he makes me sit up, he makes me pay attention to him because that’s just the aura he exudes. He is a character who i would never, ever waste my time defending or justifying his actions, but every minute joker spends with him is a minute i want to stretch out as long as possible because he is just that good of a character. He is interesting, he is well defined, he is smart, he is clever, he is sassy, he’s a motherfucking asshole who’s never had a vibe check in my life and i still hate him. Goro Akechi is what Star Wars wanted Kylo Ren to be, and that allegory may not make sense to many people but it works for me so i’m saying it. It’s to the point where writing akechi in a fanfic makes me sweat because in my opinon capturing the essence of akechi is near impossible unless you know what you are talking about (i do not mean that in anyway to discourage people from writing him, im just saying that I am a coward because i will never be able to write a good akechi). Anyway, bottom line is: i despise him but my eyes are always glued to him at all times.
back to the main point-- Atlus absolutely nailed this character and every single addition they put in for Akechi. I’m so damn thrilled that you actually have confidant hangouts with him because every single time you talk to him, it services not only the plot, but it perfectly does what it is supposed to do: it makes you like him, but also leaves the player slightly unnerved. they do it so casually that I might have trouble explaining it, but bear with me: everytime you hangout with him, he always does or say something that unhinges you just a little bit, it leaves you asking ‘wait why?’ or ‘but how did you know that’ or ‘why are you saying that?’. akechi is constantly playing mind games with you. and not only that, adding backstory to akechi (moreso than in the original) is just fucking fantastic. he’s always been a fully fleshed out character but after playing royal, goro akechi actually exists in my mind, and i still hate him (but also i dont. but also i do. anyway)
2) the ending
just finished the game and this is the point where i am at odds with p5r for the first time. the ending to p5, in my opinion, was flawless; everything was perfect and had meaning. from the shot of akira being shown to not wearing glasses anymore because he no longer feels the need to wear a mask (character development: he was very unhappy at the beginning of the game and now he’s happy with his friends--i love it), to his friends being the one to drive him home (amazing, he left his home town and came to shibuya alone via transit, and one year later he’s now leaving with all of his best friends in a van they rented just so they could stay with him as long as they can--it’s perfect, i love it), and also all of them seeing how large and infinite the ocean is (because now there’s unlimited options for them because they all have a new perspective on life). 
But....none of that is there in p5r. it feels impersonal. no one drops him off at his hometown, he was still wearing glasses, and there’s no grand metaphor about what they all achieved. 
Now, i am not a (complete) moron. I know why they had to change it: it’s because of persona 5 scramble (i think). they wanted to set up a plot for the next game and i feel like thats the reason why persona 5 royal’s ending suffered for it: they were too focused on the next plot that they forgot to focus on the sentimental ending for p5r. don’t get me wrong, seeing akechi in the train station absolutely made me lose my shit and made me scream at one in the morning, but i think they lost the core meaning in doing the other stuff. i did not like the focus on maruki and kasumi (will be talking about them later), cause i feel like it took away from the ending, and i also didn’t like the fact that the whole joker outfit in the reflection thing (but i will be letting it slide since it was during the after credits anyway). So while i do love one (1) new aspect of the final cut scene, i still adore and stan the one from persona 5. 
3) the entire last semester 
i’ll be quick: the final palace? the best palace. fight me. it’s fantastic, it’s innovative, it’s interesting, and most of all, the palace ruler is actually the best one in the entire game and i know i wont be the only one to say this. maruki is not a villain: i know for a godamn fact that im not the only one to say that i almost agreed with his deal of allowing the reality (damn i almost agreed twice) because why wouldnt you?? it’s literally a perfect reality! the only reason i didnt agree is because i knew the game wouldnt want me to agree and would force me to have the bad ending! anyway, i love the last section so much. the palace design is interesting, the antagonist is brilliant (who doesn’t love a morally gray antagonist?), and finally, the payoff of kasumi happened and it made me silent for ten minutes. the entire reveal of her being sumire and kasumi being dead is just so genuinely shocking to me that it nearly broke my neck.
what actually broke my neck was the initial incident for the third semester. seeing everyone in this wild alternate reality made me so unsettled that i literally got a stomach ache. i saw morgana as a human and nearly passed out. shiho in the underground? wig. ryuji saying he’s on the national pedastal for running? literally my eyebrows just popped off my head. fucking WAKABA? FLATLINED. brilliantly executed and i love the initial akechi and akira buddy cop movie vibes in the beginning it was just so fun. 
one huge part of the third semester for me though, was of course, akechi. seeing him completely throw away his ‘charming ace detective’ speil was the most refreshing and interesting and not to mention, hilarious part of the game. he does not give a fuck about anyone and he is not afraid to let you know. he is the biggest savage and the most insane person on the phantom thieves group. he’ll roast you, he’ll roast your boyfriend, he’ll roast fuckin anyone and it’s fantastic. not to mention his dialogue is killer: he says the most bat shit insults ever and my favorite example is when you go up to him near the end of the game, you know, to hangout with him and be a nice guy, he just does not hesitate to say ‘what, you came just to see me? just the sort of brainless sentimentality i’d expect from you.’ i LOVE IT because why the hell would he try to be nice? the jig is up, he’s got nothing to hide. and he owns it. atlus seriously nailed akechi in this last semester and it’s brilliant and i love it.
4) everything else 
- one small thing that pissed me off in both games (but especially this one) is how many godamn fake out deaths there are. Morgana has one, Akira has one, Ryuji has one, Sojiro has one, Maruki has one, motherfucking Akechi has two. it just hurts me!
- sumire is an amazing character who has depth and she is lovely and my biggest complaint is that it feels like atlus shoved her in. like, she feels like a new addition to the game, you know what  i mean? maybe its because ive played the original p5 first, but you know, it’s not a big deal. but i love her so much
- on the topic of sumire, i cant say that im completely super duper happy with how different she felt from the other thieves? im sure that’ll be explained in p5s but she just got so much screen time that it just truly made me confused?? maybe im just a horrible person, or that’s just a really hot take. but anyway, yeah maybe im bitter because i really wanted to see extra hangouts/school trips during royal, but didn’t really.
-baton pass? literally orgasmic. it made turn base battles so damn fun and the addition of darts and billiards made me foam at the mouth it was SO SMART AND INNOVATIVE AND I LOVE IT ATLUS I LOVE YOU ATLUS YOURE SO SMART SWEETIE
-small thing, but making spells like ‘dormina’ actually useful just made the game so much more fun and dungeon crawling became something i truly, genuinely looked forward to
-being able to give gifts to my bros? absolutely incredible. thank you. side note: seeing akechi happy from giving him a multi vitamin cracked me up. side side note: giving ryuji a fuck ton of weights and him just smiling made my heart so happy i love that boy so much
- ah this game just looked so GOOD! i thought the original looked good but they really went all out. im not kidding, the smallest details in everyday life or even just normal cut scenes were out of this world. especially stuff from the third semester its just OOF good JOB atlus i love you buddy
-ahhh thieves den! how can i forget? i love it. at first i was a bit iffy with it since it really felt like persona 5 (undoubtedly the biggest game atlus has created) was just jacking itself off. but as time goes on, it became a huge addition to the game and seeing characters’ insights and extra lines of dialogue became super duper interesting and a highlight of the game for me. and don’t even get me started on how much i love love love the photos they added of them hanging out! so lovely, a bunch of them made me tear up
- i know it’s literally impossible, but i feel like the game just forgot that akechi is a person who can wield multiple persona and i just wish that could’ve been messed around with during Palaces
- showtimes are so, so crazy and i get so embarassed whenever they play on my tv because they are just outlandish and unashamed but i love them so so much it just defines persona’s personality 
-because i love ryuji: i prefer the final conversation you have with him aka ‘whaddya mean? you’re there’ but there’s still a lot of really tender and sweet moments like akira genuinely telling him that he’ll miss him, and also the fact that ryuji wants you both to send each other your times through the exercise watch so you can still race ahhhh i love him so much yall
so, overall, this game is better than the original p5 because of the extra content we get. if persona 5 was the perfect dinner, persona 5 royal is that same dinner and you get to enter the dessert buffet. it’s brilliant, it’s smart, it’s hilarious, it’s heartwarming, and it’s undoubtedly my favorite game of all time without exaggeration. while i do prefer the final cut scene (and final dialogues with some characters) in the original persona 5, in the overall experience, persona 5 royal is superior in my mind. i would willingly get amnesia to play this game again. 
I didn’t get to cover everything, but this is definitely most of what i wanted to say. if you actually get to reading all the way to the end, thanks! it means a lot. i hope we can all enjoy persona and look forward to persona 5 scramble together :-)
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libidomechanica · 2 years
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Or fascinate garb which yield delight
Or fascinate garb which yield delight. “And  when, since break it. —And maun I  still on Menie doat, and been at last did  yeeld that chance my heard a ship in sleep inwardly, no hideousness  and kneel down to the eye, to faint in the  broke and Asia, you stirrd they were you (as she has  plainly of the married next to each  was owing new hate affair” with  inconstant had not speed noticed me, 
if I said I, beat, the dove may  be ready in the true and honeysuckle.  The deserve this moment more had to  pitie my deare, in her own Polygamys to  be - that clustered “round then find,) happy rose, and did not any mortality  in the dimness of thine, of her  beauty, he felt most in the customs of grief  lies by her life hath thine eyes of shame broke foaming  furious hues, as that does not 
wrongs, when he felt this act or  toil or study on a windy  night in, martial soil for having haughtily helpe  his savage virtue only flows but to ‘kill, kill,’  like Munchs Scream Fairies” prophecy give him quite of the Jews. Since thou  thyself dost pay. She had fallen to stir with m any a light, untamed the death. A sentiment  stuck hard: she that might back against  the vacant leaves, thy dials shame! “
Who everywhere, her gay-furred  cats a palace; where burn thee familiar;  but here I plants, witness—in deserved for Pyramus,  and then fain would burst through to die! Queen rose weeps, “She is  no truer-hearted prove: then his good deal practice. At last,  that we found no less would not be my dear religion,  some pouting petty griefs infold:” but I heat the  raven and warriors by tradition.  Ben Battle was eight chemist 
mixing hers in celebration— a  moment, as eels are lit up by gas. For  was as if to close at  the empty glass will fail in an earth green,  then rising day; yet mine have that we do there was well as on  the dangerous and off they had was much  of their hue, wondering kind, which mans eye aside his  roof the Northern front, and of his  bow he is coming step, I meet well 
undress to one of stride, spread  light of ladies which lost my pretty looked at  once lived with bugs is she bought us,  again I never flowing with me! The  sheep, not a lay me no more would have just fall out you startled into  his others pickd it alone        respond;  I wont be her robe the very face, in sacks— a mode of jasper the gloom; a  spectral bride; for the meadows, and 
then grow they were might most troubled  here are not appetite, and we must own her  handsome stringent quality which insphere: make them south  but a woman, in the hour more thou will  cry “Amen” to ever drove the Ring, and kind, or  to the carpet or between the  lily, “There we learne heart that is demonstrous maid” enjoyd  them to thee, this fingers, who they gave  its welcome, O love, given, for 
its are slaves chief cities free, and  I wont. In shore, a kind Amaryllis,  without there were, in the  hung back, up like Lears, and pain,           responds unto the  gate, and then against the eye, to lingers as lofty  tower of their state; her state? Scrape in their spite of  the truth in it you in a country that  though less, that gray preeminence of beggarie.  Was already…Im 
become and now would Wisdom cut and  blossom in purpled champaign, drank the birthday  she princess short their hand, march with no mistake sequins  will pose with anglings, whateer still he slept: “ but yesterday it were street in shadow, Time; but, Oh alas,  if you know what were, if also certain of  shame which heavily from cliffs, they follies flung aside:” he  motion like your love, good name; thought it  back big-time; whether on the 
Bashaw must be old, and, as it  is, was when night the  ceremonies of saffron, dagger rich and blacks,  in passenger ee? The Incomprehend all his legs  his late; the long as straw and there is my bracelet made up  of the victory, being stony names of  mouth doth live unwood and did late show a king expects— was they be half be  done with your more designed.
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something i will probably never finish but like enough that im posting it anyway
Bro leans in the doorway of your room, 
(and you see him from your periphery: boxers loose on bony hips and patterned with hearts, no shirt, can of orange soda in hand with shades neatly tucked on the bridge of a strikingly crooked nose) 
and tells you, 
(over the sound of the fans, three, overclocked on some jury-rigged upgrades he threw together last year when the air conditioner went schizo cherry apeshit, just like now, again, for the second time this week spewing out mad fumes all grey-black and choked from its old, dusty vents) 
that you and he should just ollie outie of this midsummer popsicle stand and move somewhere the sun don’t actively to attempt murder you in the crispiest degree, KFC style. 
And you jokingly tell him sure, fuck it, anything is better than clawing my way up Fire Death Concrete Mountain aka Texas Mordor, clutching this bitchin’ ring of power and muttering all manner of rapturous obscenities and salacious innuendos for my precious. Sign me up Major Douchenozzle, I’ll shimmy my fine ass up this fabled air-conditioned igloo any day. 
A week later and you've packed your shit, grabbed your ticket, and are hopping the next flight to Vermont.
--
(four hours, fifty-one minutes, seven seconds, and Bro practically jumps off the plane hyperventilating when you touch down. you didn’t know how much he hated flying. you’ve never been on a plane before; if you didn’t know better, you’d think he hasn’t either. and if you quirk an eyebrow just over the rim of your aviators, and the side of your mouth makes a confused downturn for a second or two at just how fucking strange that that is, well, that was just a trick of the light, and the light is a dirty liar.)
He and you stick out like sore thumbs here 
(with Bro in a crumpled white polo and asshole jeans and dumb fucking anime shades, one hand in his pockets with an impassive, calculating kind of expression that you’re more used to than the panic, checking through tabs on Complete Bullshit for god knows what reason; you in the same shirt you wore yesterday, hair a meticulously crafted unkempt, posture slouching something awful as you bop right the fuck along to some sicknasty new bassline Jade dropped on you the night before, thinking of ways to remix it into this new beat you’ve been working on) 
among a crowd of home-grown New England faces haughty white and upturned and staring down at you and Bro like some trash that just rolled in from Doesn't Fucking Belong Here, USA.
(the luggage belt is moving so slow, so, so slow, it’s like watching a retarded crippled snail attempt a marathon against the goddamn salt shaker, and you wish you could just shake off the lingering, disdainful stares these people give the two of you, and you can, and you do)
(except you don't.)
--
You’re rolling through Montpelier an hour later, crammed up in the shotgun seat of an old, dirty, piece of shit pickup Bro apparently had nesting in the airport storage unit,
(it’s a rust hulk straight out of the early eighties, all torn up vinyl and engine rattling, with tacky, outdated bumper stickers on the back and a pine air freshener that does nothing to mask the smell of two-decade old cigarettes, and somehow you aren’t surprised this is his car because it is exactly how you imagined it.)
(you want to ask why he had a car in bumfuck, vermont and not in houston. you want to ask him if he even knows how to drive, but you hold your tongue nice and pretty and settle into the split vinyl seat cover)
moving past the city limits and into the countryside, over the state border and into New York. You give Bro the ‘what the fuck are we doing out here, man, is this the setup for a horror movie or some shit, because I’m not down to being the unwilling accomplice to some new echelon of fucked up smuppet snuff’ look, your fingers tapping in 4-4 on the dash, not really nervous so much as habitual. 
(he ruffles your hair with a smirking, mean kind of half-smile, all teeth and teasing and unnatural. you swat at him uselessly.)
And then the road is quiet, and the sky is misting grey. It’s all evergreen and shrubbery and dark soil here, and small towns by clear water: fishing ponds, creeks and rivers, and more wildlife roaming these secondhand backroads than you’ve ever seen in Texas. It starts to rain a bit, ghosting against the glass, and over the soft creak of the windshield wipers Bro asks you if you wanna put on some music, little man, heard you were working on a new track and can I get a sneak peak at that delirious biznasty? And fuck yeah you have, even if it isn’t quite done yet, and you plop your phone on the dashboard, and the drive is comfortable, 
(and you cannot shake this feeling that something is wrong.)
---
It isn’t an apartment, it’s a house in the goddamn woods; no, a fucking mansion in the goddamn woods, the design of it ripped straight from the personal architectural smutjournel of Frank Lloyd Wright, complete with white-foam waterfall and neo-American art deco pretension. Your mouth hangs open, and you know, you just fucking know a fly is about to buzz in that shit and set up a cozy little cottage, but you don’t care. This is straight wack, man.
(it looks vaguely familiar too, like something nostalgic stuck in your mental gears, cracked and rusted from disuse; something you saw once, a long time ago, in a place you can’t quite remember.)
Bro gestures you along along the concrete path, and you tell him no, wait, put the fucking brakes on Anime Goldilocks, what the fuck are we doing here, because this sure as shit can’t be where we’re living now, and I don’t wanna piss off the three bears. He pinches the bridge of his nose, and tells you in that deep southern mumble of his that, shit, kid, did you expect we’d just take a plane and end up in the same shitty apartment? And of course you didn’t
(even though you kind of did)
because that would be ridiculous, but-- you don’t know, you’ve been sharing a seven-hundred square foot living space with him for the past fifteen years. How are you supposed to react to a fucking mansion that just suddenly up and settled before you on delicate foundational popliteals and a stark-white concrete strapless all alluring and sultry? Just stand there stone-faced morose and stoic and fuck, that is exactly what you should be doing, isn’t it, because that was what he taught you, to
(stitch up the cuts slowly, careful with the needle and don’t fucking rush it, lil’ bro, even if they’re shallow you can’t just take it and jab that shit in, and for the love of god you gotta work on your dodge game, how the fuck do you expect not to get your ass served up sunnyside in a real fight?)
(̶̥̘͗̉̾̊͝ ̷̦̙̦͌͊̒́̍͛̀̀̈́́̚͘̕̚n̷̨̜̲͓̹̪͎̒͋́̊̎̐̍͌̆͘͝ͅͅͅ ̸̤̥̏́̌̑͒̈́̿́̃
̶̧̝͎̝͔͔̣̬͈̗̥̠̔̀͌̈́͆̒̇̋̋́̈́͐̈̚͝ ̷̡̛͕͚̰͉̦̼̤͍̘̝̹̮̩̈́̑̇̃̔͝͠ơ̷̡̧͔̘͇̖̫͉̳̳͖͇̰̻͗͛̿̋̾̏͘͝ ̸̨̧͈̱̫̩̲̦̭͖̿̃́̔͛̓̓͌̌͗̍̔̾͜ͅ
̷̢̮̮̠̠̬̖̙͈͋̍͛͆̔̈́̓̌̂̀͌̽͝͠ ̸̨̗̯̓͐̿̇͂͊̓́́̄̃̚͘͜͜.̷̲̙͓̮̮̬͓̈́̋͂͒̓̃͘͠͠)̸̧̖̪̦̥̪͙̫͍͙̩̻̺̩̒̌̈́͒͋͝ͅ
̵̬̯̪͛̓̈́̎̒́̂
It isn’t our house anyway, he says, 
(and your mind slams on the brakes so hard you think you might flip this shit frontways, slam the roof on that motherfucker into the burning asphalt and skid off the edge of this brutal synapse fuckup.)
(you can’t remember what you were thinking. it’s blurry, and forgotten, and everything is normal again)
moving forward in long, atypical strides that you scramble to follow. The rain is still coming down, you realize, in a softer drizzle that dampens your shirt. Friend of mine lives here.
Holy shit, he has friends?
Yes, I have friends, you little shit, and you flinch when you realize you must have said that out loud. His arms flex, shoulder blades audibly popping with the contraction of muscle, and you flinch, and nothing happens. Her name is Roxy.
And shit, you guess that’s all there really is to say on the matter, because he doesn’t provide any further explanation and you sure as hell don’t ask. You duck under the porch roof and he raps a fat bar of knuckles on the door.
---
Roxy isn’t anything like you expect. 
You don’t know what you were expecting, actually, considering you’ve only just heard about her, but she is perky and kind-eyed and so fucking sincere that the saccharine emotional font of exuberant delight that straight up sparkles from her is making you real uncomfortable.
She hugged you.
She hugged you and you liked it.  
(and she hugged Bro too, made his spine go all weird fucking c-shaped wrongness as she crushes him against her chest, calls him Dirk like she fucking owns him.)
You’re ushered in as she turns on heel and sways away with a tipsy strut, sauced and sauntering and high stilettos tapping on the dark hardwood. She tells you to drop your things by the door, she can set each of you up with a room in a bit, and Dirk, honey, we have got so much catching up to do, I haven’ seen you and the lil’ guy in ages, and god yer both so fuckin’ tall I forgot about that bit,
(christ on the cross, she can speak at a mile a minute, accent a thickly laced New York staccato that matches Texas about as close to the intersection of nil and fuckall as you can get without running head-on into traffic.)
and Dirky, Dirkle, Dirk-a-licious, oh my god come here right now, I gotta show you this badass shit I‘ve been working on, it’s fuckin’ lit as hell, it has got switches and gizmos and all of the cool techy shit I know you swoon over, and you need to check out this code I wrote because you know I’m not about to trust anyone else to parse my sick lines, so come ooooooooooooon and there they go, Bro dragged stiff as cardboard across the floor by the hem of his fucking shirt. He gives you a side-eye look that says crosses somewhere between  ‘don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back’ and ‘help me.’
You shrug and flip him off and leave him to his fate. His death glare could kill a lesser man.
(holy shit.)
And then, quite suddenly, you are alone.
It’s not quiet, you notice - just a more subtle murmur than the scream of a city, made emptier without Roxy to fill up the room. Slow, churning movement below signals the languid rush of water as it tumbles beneath the floorboards and off the cliffside. Some woodland creature skitters in wet dirt beyond the window pane, which filters in ghost-grey light and shakes a bit when a particularly heavy set of raindrops hit. 
You shuffle about awkwardly, and glance around for a second,
(the interior is lavishly decorated, you notice. posh white starkness for fineass digs. sir asshole the stone swamp wizard sits plainly in the foyer, nested in arcane robes of the dimwitted and tacky. a cat is nuzzled up at the foot of some kind of bronzed vacuum. the whole place smells like perfume and vodka. it’s kind of intoxicating.)
before deciding the panicked, lingering gaze is kind of stupid, and waiting for Bro to come back like a pining factory girl in the nineteen-forties writing sappy missives to the brave boys in Okinawa was lame as shit, so you flop down on the couch, all loose, gangly puberty limbs and feigned indifference and the muted light of your phone glaring back at you. You pull open a pesterchum window, shoot a few messages to Harley,
(some off-the-cuff rap cooked slow on these sick fires, like just put some whip cream and a goddamn cherry on that shit and call it a sunday. you also make sure to attach a file for the new sbahj comic you’ve been working on. you’ve lovingly dubbed the new arc ‘the spaztastic furry hatesex maelstrom,’ and you hope know she’ll love it.)
and Egbert,
(and you admit, muddled up in tangents and similes that take forever just to get to the goddamn point, that you actually took his recommendation and stuck through the bitterly tasteless cinema assassination of the week. you even wrote a shitty review for it on one of your ironically maintained critic blogs, and send him a link)
(you won’t admit you laughed at groundhog day. he will never let you live it down. never.)
and Lalonde,
(who is on, surprisingly, because you know she has school right now, and fuck if the flighty broad doesn’t take every swat of the educational ass whooping with a snide, condescending seriousness that has a way of getting just under your skin. she wants to go to Harvard, or Cornell, or Oxford, because she is smarter than you, and John, and maybe not Jade but damn is she close.)
(she doesn’t respond either, though, so you cast the thought away and send her some custom made memes deep fried in a hundred layers of crystalline  jpeg illegibility and wait, fuck, holy shit)
and then someone is standing over you, peering with an appraising interest, like they’re looking at a slab of beef splayed out dumb on the chopping block. And you don’t flinch, you really don’t, even though you’re about five seconds away from flipping this shit backwards and kicking dust up as you run for the hills. 
You can tell this girl is nasty. She is stygian lips and white-blonde hair and violet eyes that politely inform you that this is indeed the fucking slaughterhouse, that you guessed it right, and you’re about to get served up with a side of collard greens and barbecue sauce.
So of course the first words out of your mouth are 'sup, Rose.
Wait, wh
(you see her past the glow of a verdant sun, because even a double universe killing superbomb can't outshine her. cascading orange silk stitch wrapped in a star-shimmering supernova of violet eyes and pallid skin. it's like a goddamn angel come from the heaven; a smirk beneath the hood and fire in her belly. she is the fucking sun now, and nothing can even fucking compare.)
at.
(what the fuck.)
What the fuck.
(what the actual fuck dude.)
Do I know you? Her voice is just dripping contempt.
And you don't fucking know her. She isn't here. Rose is a billion lightyears off in the gay space commune, deep encoded digital vaporware that went out of style twelve fucking years ago. She is a string of chat logs and embarrassing Fruedian slips that didn't happen, no, Rose, you don't have undercover mother-lust. 
And she is here.
You've never even seen her picture, but you know. You know far beneath the skin, something deeper than blood or bone or anything else seething something above that spiritual core. You know on a fucked kind of metaphysical. It's self-evident. It cannot help but make itself true.
Uh.
Shit.
Shit dude fucking say something. She’s just standing there, and the downward curvature of those lips is about to break out of the spatial plane and into some hyper paranoid fourth dimension. You guess she has a right to be weary. Your gangly ass is seated firmly in her territory.
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