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yanderart · 4 years

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Once you found Shouto on the Anti-Purge forums, it felt so wonderful to be understood. So comforting to finally have someone you could rely on...

So, when you got a letter notifying you of your selection for the Annual Purge later on, of course you went to seek his help.

Should’ve known better than to trust strangers online, though.

My fic/portrait convo for the Yandere Purge Collab, from the Lovesick Discord. And please check the rest of the m. list for other amazing works set in the same AU!

Under the cut is the actual fic (Todoroki x Reader, nsfw, dark themes, 10k), as well as the respective TWs. Hope y'all enjoy 🥀

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Tws: Usual yandere ones (stalking, manipulation, delusion). Dub-con/Non-con. Non-consensual Drug Use, aka Aphrodisiacs. Death threats and sexism (from randoms on the forum, not Todo).

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You couldn’t think straight —hadn’t been able to since waking up again. All you could recognize amidst the fog currently obscuring your thoughts was the longing, prolonged, and tangible in its hold over your being.

You felt hot all over, the flames licking at your skin burning brightly as you squirmed from your place, eagerly attempting to get closer to the cold reprieve emanating from the man that held you.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Y/N." One of his hands was steering you on his lap, the other one gently massaging your shoulders in a comforting motion. “I can only help you if you do."

If your judgment had not been overcast by the desire pushing away your self-awareness, then perhaps you could’ve heard the faint hint of amusement in his voice. Perhaps you would’ve thought to look up and finally encounter the content shine of his heterochromatic eyes.

“I feel…" speaking was laborious, your tongue impossibly weighty and your mind swirling with thoughts that escaped any semblance of coherence. “I feel hot all over. It hurts.”

The hand positioned around your waist went to search for one of your clenched ones, easily engulfing it in his grip as he nudged the side of your face with his chin rather tenderly. A gentle encouragement for you to stay attentive, anchoring you to the moment despite your dazed mindset.

“Show me then,” his low timbre tickled your skin, sending another wave of excruciating heat to wreak havoc inside your body, “Let me know where it hurts.”

With a stuttering sigh, you proceeded to press both of your hands to your lower stomach, gulping audibly before bringing them further down. Dancing just short of your underwear while your eyelids fluttered shut.

You knew your actions were out of character deep down. Even recognized the shadow of wrongness that distorted the current scene. You weren't supposed to do such things, weren't supposed to feel like that…

But the reality was that you were so excruciatingly warm by that point, and his palm felt so deliciously cold.

When you heard the dreadful siren going off in the distance, the instantly recognizable sound of the Purge starting at last, you were already too far gone to think of anything else but the fingers brushing against the thin cotton of your panties, so close to the evidence of your need soaking through them.

Your parents had told you not to trust strangers online once upon a time. You should’ve really taken their advice more to heart.

。。。。。

But first, perhaps a little tracing of your steps is in order —some necessary context to fully understand the extension of your plight.

You see, earlier that day you had woken up full of a peculiar mix of drive and determination. It was indeed Purge Day, the single day of the year you had grown to fear the most ever since childhood, and yet for once you found yourself oddly relaxed, filled to the brim with resolve instead of your usual nerves.

Which was already an unexpected turn of events, considering you had just gotten a letter notifying you of your selection as one of the accursed Darlings of the Night.

A gentle reminder that, if caught, your life would stop belonging to yourself for an entire dreadful year.

Because a Yandere had their sight on you now, or so the notice had informed you in impeccable typography. Anxious fingertips memorized the slight raise of inked words, inspecting every single detail the letter carried.

You had imagined a monster ready to pounce just outside your door then, fitting enough to be the carrier of your bad news. A preternaturally grotesque being, built from all the Yandere themed horror stories you had heard throughout the years.

And yet there you were, feeling safer in that instant than you had in years; Because this time you had a plan. He made sure to give you one you could easily follow.

Just like he later made sure to welcome you in with a kind smile and awfully persistent hospitality.

"Would you like a cup of tea?"

You should've known better than to accept.

。。。。。

In the present, fingers were now dipping under the elastic of your panties, ghosting across feverish skin and encouraging your whimpers to grow louder.

"Is this what you want, then?" The man's breath tickled one of your ears, rough digits gathering your slickness with practiced ease. And he sounded genuinely concerned too, as if your discomfort was not a consequence of his own machinations. "Because I wanna ease your pain, baby. Give you what you truly need."

He barely even touched you yet you were already struggling not to crumble, the desire governing your mind mixing with the new sensations to create a new delirious kind of torment.

Continuing to tease you, the man was relentless in his torture, barely even brushing over your neediest spots. A gentle press of his palm to stimulate you for a moment before pulling back, much to your shameful frustration; Better than nothing, but not close enough.

In his own way, though, he was urging you to speak up. Expecting you to demand what you truly wanted.

Yet as a retort, all you could come up with was gasping out his name, dripping from your lips like honeyed prayers as your hips fought to buck up against his hand.

A sound you afterward repeated a hundred times over. Chanted until its melody became engraved on your tongue and the man was finally caving in, sliding his fingers inside with a smirk.

He had known you'd end up caving, had planned for it for months now, and yet nothing had prepared him for the actual view.

。。。。。

Shou, actually, had been his username when you first met him. Once upon a time recited with a genuine smile and an eagerness to please, such a far cry from the anguished whines it would later lead up to.

You started frequenting the forum he inhabited a few months back. A place which happened to be a hidden corner of the internet for people who did not just stumble upon it, but actually sought it out. A part of the web where its occupants challenged societal norms and, against what society had tried to condition you all into thinking, chose to voice their taboo Anti-Purge sentiments instead.

Sentiments perhaps born either due to the inherent discriminatory nature of the holiday (why was it that Yanderes were accommodated for, while Darlings barely got a warning before they were made prey?), a need for contrarianism (when opposing open kidnappings, assault and other debauchery became an act of rebellion), or just a tenuous moral high ground which made it unbearable to stomach. Whatever the reason, it was your first time encountering such a density of like-minded peers.

Despite attempting to commit yourself to being a lurker, deciding to never post or reply to others, your days had still quickly become consumed by the need to read each and every topic. You were simply fascinated with this new dark corner of the web.

That was, of course, until the aforementioned Shou became the main focus of your attention, a dash of intriguing brightness to break the monotony of your existence.

And like moths rushing to the flame, your curiosity would be your undoing.

There was something about him that pulled you in (along with many others from the community, which tended to flock on his posts whenever he grazed the forums). His username was clearly just a nickname instead of a carefully crafted pseudonym; profile picture just an image of the back of what you all assumed to be his hair, dual-toned strands catching the light in a hypnotic way.

Truly, his disregard for anonymity within those parts was a bigger statement than you were expecting, almost as commendable as it was dumbfounding. There was the nature of his postings too, never subtle about his inclinations or ideas.

How to disarm and reutilize Purge Traps.

Most effective ways to incapacitate a violent assailant.

Government lies and why they matter.

Faking a BOPC (breach of purge code) and getting away with it.

There was little method to the madness that was his forum activity, besides the hint that he was evidently more knowledgeable about the subject than most. Plus the fact that he was proactive about his advice, actually seeking to teach others to fight back instead of just hide away and hope for the best. For another self-proclaimed Darling, Shou was ruthless with his methods —it was hard not to admire him.

And admire you did, keeping tabs of his sporadic bursts of activity and speeding to try and interact with him whenever you caught him online. You were, to voice it simply, simply star-truck by him (and perhaps becoming a bit of a fangirl).

Because whoever Shou was, it felt like he understood you. And so, against every ounce of your common sense or natural paranoia, you had finally decided to break your golden rule and reach out for the first time since you joined the niche forum.

And not to just leave a vague comment agreeing on public discourse, but to actually send him a private message. In your defense, how were you supposed to know the chains of events your actions would start?

Do you actually believe what you post?, had been your lame conversation starter.

Luckily for you, he did not leave you hanging. You made sure to send the message while he was still active, one of the few days a week you knew he devoted to his presence on the site (and wasn't it slightly creepy, how you had taken the time to learn his schedule by that point?)

I wouldn't be here if I didn't, dry, to the point and leaving you embarrassed to have even sent the first question.

Yet for some reason, something about Shou reverted you back into a middle school kid seeking to impress a way cooler senior.

Perhaps it was what he symbolized (a change for the better), what he appeared to be (everything you wish you were) —whatever it was, your fingers were frantically typing a reply as soon as his appeared on your screen.

I just think it's amazingThe things you know

How you share them with everyone

The way you see through the lies

I just think you're— , your digits hovered over the keyboard as you were about to type out the last sentence before quickly deleting it. Even in your excitement, you knew how obsessed you'd sound if you started complimenting him personally in your very first conversation.

So instead you sent your thoughts on his posts and awaited his answer with bated breath. A few minutes ticked by this time, your anxiety making you count down the seconds in mortified silence, slowly weighted down by your doubts until your notifications for the forum were going off again with a distinct ping.

I've seen your replies around. I think you're great too.

Whatever your hang ups for praising him directly had been, he clearly did not harbor any. As the prongs of nervousness alleviated their hold over your body, you struggled to see any problems with it either…this was a person you had come to idolize, and they thought you were great?

Your smile, while still anxious, was considerable while you quickly responded.

I'm just a n00b. Learning from the pros.

A moment of thought, biting your bottom lip as you decided whether to add a second message or not. Fuck it, you told yourself.

I wasn't even supposed to be posting anything, but you made me wanna reach out.

Was that too forward? Oh god, it was, wasn't it? You must've sounded creepy, must've sounded desperate and…

That's cute. Did my ramblings teach you anything?

An actual squeal left you then, sounding like it came from an altogether different person. You were an adult, with a career and responsibilities… Yet somehow, this stranger online indirectly calling you cute made you more excited than you were comfortable admitting.

Ofc. I didn't even know what a BOPC was before. Didn't know most of the purge traps you mentioned, either.

The spaces between replies were getting smaller, the conversation turning fluent as you both seemed to be staring straight into the screen, waiting for the other to finish typing.

So you really are a n00b then.

Shit, did you fail some sort of forum etiquette by admitting that? Somehow, the need to impress Shou was more palpable than ever.

And you clearly know your stuff. Makes me wanna up my game.

Be more like you, you left unsaid.

So am I your senpai then?

Your fingers froze just above the keyboards, eyes scanning over Shou's last message and reverted back to staring at his profile pic for a solid minute. You would've squealed again, if you weren't so taken aback.

You make it sound like I am, his second message lit up your screen, coming in quickly after your rare pause in replies.

I don't think that's bad, though. Third message from him, and you were close to fainting now.

Then in that case I suppose you are. You wondered whether Shou wouldn't think you were pathetic admitting that, or whether he had been honest by saying he didn't mind...

I've also noticed you agreeing with some of my more polarizing views.

A welcomed change in topics.

You thought to ask him which ones (most of his posts tended to have a polarizing effect, with people finding him either too radicalized or not radicalized enough), but before you could formulate the question you saw the twinkling circles symbolizing he was typing up another sentence.

Do you actually believe them? And now it was his turn to spit your words back at you.

Well, yah. You make compelling arguments.

Color me impressed then, the start of his new retort left your mind spinning. Never met a n00b like you before.

After his declaration, you found yourself writing and rewriting your answer, hesitating on your word choice, and yet pure elation coursed through your veins.

He said he's impressed with me, your brain kept supplying on loop. You had no way of knowing just how much of a lasting impression you were leaving.

I don't wanna stay one tho. I'd like to jump a few levels. Improve.

Barely a moment's notice before his last message provoked a noticeable hitch in your breath.

I can help you with that.

Which, as short of a reply as it was, left you giddier than would’ve been healthier to admit.

Perhaps it could be chalked up to your work shifts growing more monotonous and tiresome, your social life becoming a faint echo of what it used to be, or just the regular wear and tear from a too-plain existence —a routine where you didn’t tend to engage with life, but just passively watched it go by.

Whatever the true reason was, that night you went to sleep with such a wide grin that the apples of your cheeks had started to hurt from the exertion, infinitely excited after getting to talk firsthand with someone you had already come to admire by that point.

It almost made you self-conscious, knowing just how much it all meant to you, how such a small gesture on his part happened to mean the world to you.

But there was really no reason to feel ashamed or overzealous over your own reaction. If you could’ve seen Shou, you would’ve known you weren’t the only one smiling.

。。。。。

Almost as open of a smile as the one adorning his features right now, currently hidden from your view as his fingers set a maddening pace. Tortuously slow at first until his knuckles started brushing against your opening with each thrust.

All you could hear now were the wet sounds of your arousal facilitating his movements, motions whose only purpose seemed to be to drive you more rambling and disoriented by the second.

"Is this what you want? What you need, perhaps?" His usually calm voice was uncharacteristically affected as he gasped against your ear, the torture he was making you endure clearly getting to him as well.

You were much too preoccupied with the waves of pleasure and warmth overflowing your body to give a proper response, but your lack of one did not deter him.

If anything, your needy gasps and whines were the only encouragement he required.

"Don't worry, Y/N. I'll take care of you, make you feel good."

By that point, the hand that had been petting your hair had found its way to your sopping heat too, calloused pads circling around your pearl while the man continued feeding you his eager promises.

"I get you, baby. Just like you get me." So close, your entire body taut and ready to snap. "And you want me to take care of you too, right?"

You weren't conscious enough to understand the implications, your impaired judgment prohibiting you from reading further into the meaning of his words. He sounded so encouraging, so deceivingly tender despite stuffing you full of his fingers as you squirmed on his lap.

All you could do was nod furiously.

And later on, when your senses sadly returned, dedicated yourself to lamenting over which of your actions brought you down this unfortunate path.

。。。。。

Perhaps, your consciousness supplied, it had been the fact that you opened up so readily. That you had dared to share with a supposed new friend, things that should’ve better stayed hidden in the first place.

But goddamn it, you felt downright honored that he even considered you worthy enough to entertain in the first place. From the very first second, Shouto already had the upper hand.

During the first few conversations, the topics you two discussed were all closely related to the purge and your mutual hang ups with it. Concise and carefully typed out messages were exchanged, discussing opinions you had never expected anyone to be interested in hearing—not from you, at least.

But then, as the weeks slowly progressed, the subjects of conversation began shifting to both of your lives, to your occupations, hobbies, and, directly against the forum's policy for privacy, the people you two were outside the confines of your online corner.

Even without actually exchanging any real data or supplying him with your name or age, you found yourself starting to open up more and more with each day.

You told him about your grueling office job, the friends you hadn’t seen or texted in weeks, and the reality of an apartment which more closely resembled a containment cell than a home…

Revelations that you had kept hidden for so long, which now came pouring out without regard for how mortified they made you feel. You were conscious of the limits blurring between you two the further you kept going, of how you were telling him things best left unsaid, cramped and buried in a hard to reach place.

And yet, for some obscure reason, everything Shou represented made it impossible for you to resist the temptation to speak up, to demand to be heard for the first time in an eternity of quietness.

You’re pathetic, is what you expected him to say in return. Pathetic, weak, meager, and worthless. Anticipating him, somehow, to echo all the doubts and deeply held fears you carried inside.

Most of my friends don’t understand either, was instead the response you received. But most people don’t see what's wrong, what needs to be changed. You feel lonely because you do.

It wasn’t clear what you would’ve wanted to hear beforehand, the things you had fantasized someone would reply if you ever gathered the courage to share your anxieties. Whatever those expectations had been an eternity ago, they now vastly paled when compared to what your new friend was dangling in front of you.

It felt like he was giving an excuse for things you had always perceived as personal failings. If what he said was true, it would mean it wasn’t your social ineptitude that kept people away, your uselessness, or uninteresting personality.

It would mean the shadows around you could still be dispelled somehow, exorcising the silhouettes of a suffering that had become a regular companion in your day to day life.

Brandishing a courage that only anonymity could give you, your fingers were a blur on your keyboard as you tried to ignore the rapid heartbeat in your chest, the fear, and exhilaration from opening up for the first time in forever.

Something you would later regret a thousand times over.

And you do too, and it wasn’t a question, a nervous comment or a stuttered retort. With the aid of the text format, you could look as confident as you knew you weren’t. You understand as well.

You understand me, was the tacit meaning behind it. The prickling of unshed tears made it so you were furiously blinking, fighting against the downpour despite your eyes refusing to leave the screen for longer than an instant.

I do. More than you realize.

For all intents and purposes, your first mistake was indeed opening up.

And your second one was being naive enough to let him in. Seriously, why hadn’t you heeded your parent’s advice about stranger danger?

。。。。。

...If they could only see you now, coming apart at the seams and with the name of your tormentor being the only word you were able to string together.

"Such a beauty, and all for me," his praises accompanied you through the rough orgasm ripping through your body, lips kissing your forehead in stark contrast to the digits still pumping inside your heat. "Let me hear your voice, baby. Let me hear how beautiful my name sounds on your lips."

And you obeyed, because what other choice did you have. Mindless, broken, and oh, so needy.

You continued to audibly moan as your climax unwound, crying out his name in absolute reverence while Shouto's smile deepened against your skin. The chill of his touch was still as soothing as ever, calming down the embers of a lust that refused to completely die down.

When he finally pulled his hands from your core, you felt excruciatingly empty. But you were not given enough time to wallow in your despair, because who you once considered your friend was then grasping your face gently between his hands, leading your gaze to meet his—forcing you to witness the intensity and adoration present there.

"My Y/N."

Even in your deeply intoxicated state, the last few dredges of your senses supplied just how utterly abhorrent the situation was.

The sirens signaling the start of the Purge had died down a while ago, drowned out by your own cries of pleasure, but you could still see the remnants of the government logo still plastered all over the TV, its bright glow bathing you both in an eerily scarlet ambiance.

From the same weak place of coherence, a shiver of fear managed to break through your stupor.

"You're going to continue to be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

When he kissed you then, slow and almost ironically hesitant despite what had just transpired moments before, you couldn't begin to tell your body to refuse. Much to your own horror, you were soon eagerly kissing your tormentor back.

。。。。。

The second mistake leading up to your downfall, on the other hand, took a little longer to occur. It was after a few more weeks of conversation. You vented and talked way too much, while Shou listened intently and even rewarded you with a few crumbs of advice of his own.

So wrapped up in your new seemingly innocuous friendship you were in, you failed to recognize the magnitude of an event that should've sent you scrambling to shut off your monitor. A warning so loud it would've put the Purge sirens themselves to shame.

You see, with Shou's help, you were slowly becoming more of an active user around those parts. You didn't just stick to replying to his posts or lurking until he shot you a private message anymore; no, you were now officially a contributor, deciding to step out of your anonymity to share what you thought was a fairly interesting article. It was a rather long-winded thinkpiece on the morality of Darlings’ treatment after the Purge had ended—the reality of that year spent in captivity that most people tended to just brush under the carpet, all in the name of making the entire ordeal more palatable to digest.

In all your eagerness, however, you had failed to realize a very crucial detail, which was that the article was a whole two days old. Already an ancient text by forum's standards, apparently.

So with that in mind, of course you should've expected the hate, an outpouring of bitterness fit for a community of loners and acidic underdogs. You were on an anonymous forum on one of the darkest parts of the internet, somewhere most sane people actively stayed away from—Clearly, a rookie unwittingly reposting something was the perfect target for a lot of your bitter comrades. An excuse to finally take out all of their pent up frustration.

Fuck1ng pleb, thanks for copy-pasting the same post for the 55th time.

This is why we shouldn't let newbies post. Look at this mess @mods.

Time to hang it up, n00b. And by “it”, I mean your f****** neck.

i bet ur a girl, [Username]. u type like a b1tch.

And the icing on the cake for internet interactions, a myriad of wall spamming "KYS" being plastered all across the comment section, bold and daunting as they filled your notification box with the repetitions of hate. If you weren't so sure of your safety behind your screen, perhaps you would've felt intimidated.

As it stood, you were just embarrassed, mortified at the fact that you had seemingly botched your only attempt at leaving a positive first impression. If anything, it only seemed you had given everyone a common enemy to pick on for once...

Or that was, at least, until Shou happened to log in at exactly that precise moment. You knew he was usually busy around that day and time (he never actually told you whether he had a job, but you had surmised as much from your past chats), so his instantly recognizable profile picture and username popping up had you genuinely gasping at first. It was one hell of a coincidence, but you couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at what looked to be your savior.

Everyone, stop getting your panties in a twist. This is why no new users end up staying, the environment is abhorrent.

It was vague enough not to betray the fact that you two weren’t just strangers anymore, as well as keeping Shou’s reputation as a lone wolf from completely shattering.

And a comment which, surprisingly, instantly dulled most of the incoming messages your post was being flooded with.

People respected him there, his status as a renowned user giving him a genuine sort of power and hold over the rest of the community. One of the first things you had recognized on the forums was the distinct hierarchical structures amongst its users, and there Shou might’ve as well be granted the title of mayor for all the weight his every sentence carried.

Or at least they did with the majority of the community. As in every place where large numbers of people gathered, there were always a few rotten apples just begging to be tossed.

and ofc ur whiteknighting for her, Shou The Great. shes sucking ur dick under evry single post u make

You cringed, studying the bitter user that had decided to be a contrarian and easily recognizing him from unsavory past encounters you witnessed. Although, if you were completely honest, this time you couldn't exactly say his words didn't carry a certain degree of validity.

Shou had told you he was glad that was the case with you, that his post resonating with anyone was one of the main reasons why he hadn't just disappeared from the site completely. But in reality, saying you weren't subtle about your agreement with his ideas would be an understatement.

You were like a puppy skipping behind him, trailing his interactions and always ready to write an eager comment backing him up. Yet you had never thought others actually paid attention to your mostly one-sided interactions, the occasional meager downvote or emote being the only thing that made you aware your comments weren’t just lost in the sea of spam Shou’s posts were usually showered in.

For the longest time, your support had just felt like leaving letters for the man to find. Letters you hadn’t even been sure had reached their target until a few weeks back...

Suddenly, the sharp sound of Shou's incoming reply drove you from your tribulations.

Well, maybe if you weren't such a crude man you wouldn't be permabanned from starting topics yourself. Although I doubt anyone would be sucking your dick either way, shitty ideology considered. [Image attached]

A grimace was quick to grow on your face as you aptly studied the picture Shou decided to close his reply with.

It was a screenshot of what looked to be someone's post history, a rather extensive list with alarmingly offensive titles such as "Why male darlings should be spared", "The purge is a form of cuckoldry" and “Feminist agenda: female yanderes and their biological advantage [Repost]". Almost all of them exhibited a tragic downvote ratio right as well, besides the red symbol signaling the posts had been archived by senior users or mods.

For someone who also loathed the terrible holiday, it was almost admirable how the man managed to be almost as detestable as the criminals you all rallied against.

But even so, what disturbed you the most wasn't the clear bigotry of the user, but the fact that that screenshot couldn't have been taken from public records. A user's post history was hidden, just another measure on the site’s part to keep people from recognizing too many details about each other and possibly endangering themselves.

No, it could only have been taken from inside the account. And judging from the other guy's quick reaction, you weren't the only one who came to that realization.

how the fck did u get that

I knew u were friends with the mods. fcking rats

By that point, everyone else had stopped clogging the comments and, you assumed, instead opted to settle down and attentively observe the events transpiring. Apart from the emote reactions and the rapidly rising number of upvotes on Shou’s comments, you had all become a passive audience to the public ridicule.

Although you couldn’t help feeling slightly disjointed by Shou’s behavior. Below your wicked sense of pride at having him defend you, there was still the whispers of your gut telling you the man was going a little too far, his actions spelling a more sinister meaning than just “having a friend’s back”.

You've been here for years, Minoru. Surprised you haven't yet noticed how much of a pest everyone sees you as.

Minoru? You did a double-take, going back to read the username of the guy Shou was arguing with. But he just had a randomly generated number as a pseudonym, same as you and most others, and with just a picture of some anime sneezing girl to distinguish his profile from the rest. No trails or signs of what could Shouto be referencing to.

Nothing but an option you preferred not to consider. But it couldn't be, could it? your friend wouldn’t...

fucking delete that right now, man.

this isn't a joke, DELETE THAT.

Only that the abrasive and desperate reaction told you everything you needed to know. Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest, shock mixing with equal parts horror and amazement you couldn’t even begin to try and disentangle. Because right that second, you were witnessing your friend breaking the forum’s number one rule with a front-row seat to the spectacle.

And he was doing it all in your name.

Then maybe think twice before you go out of your way to harass newbies. Or have you had too much time on your hands after being fired, is that it?

It was vague enough not to represent any kind of threat... if not for the context of the site. And yet you all knew the hidden message behind it, the warning for whoever Minoru was to understand Shou knew much more than what he was letting on. That he could expose much more than he was currently alluding to.

y are u even doing this, shou? y do u care wtf happens to this noobslut anyways?

Shou's reply took barely a moment to appear, lighting up your screen and, despite the slightly morbid nature of his protection, coaxing out a smile to adorn your lips. It was like a balm being applied to your worries, quieting down most of your incipient concerns in favor of rejoicing.

They're a friend.

For fuck’s sake, you even screenshotted that for posterity. Somehow, him acknowledging the new bond you two had openly felt like a milestone.

When a mod came in to archive the post and give everyone involved a stern warning later on, you were already way past your previous doubtful sentiments.

Instead, the last thing you did before going to sleep that day was to open up your private conversation with Shou and send a quick yet heartfelt message of gratitude his way.

Months prior, you wouldn’t have ever thought you’d be thanking anyone for semi doxxing another human being. How rapidly things were changing, though, and all while you got lost in the thrill of mattering.

Thanks for sticking up for me. It meant a lot, you typed feeling slightly lightheaded, drunk on the idea that anyone would think you worthy of having your back.

You thought Shou went offline after dishing out his not so thinly veiled threats, but somehow he was back again in an instant, the sound of notifications going off shaking any remnants of your exhaustion.

Anything for you, [Y/N].

You were so tired, it didn't occur to you that you hadn't yet shared your real name with your friend either.

That night, for once, you fell asleep with a twinkle in your eye and the image of Shou's multicolored locks dancing against your eyelids. Imagining, ever so briefly, your fingers trailing down the back of a neck you now had memorized from analyzing his profile picture.

And, while you slept with your phone clutched to your side, you also failed to notice the peculiar sound of your own camera going off, the soft glow from the red light beside your lense bathing your features in its subtle illumination, flickering against your eyelashes and the lingering grin on your curved lips.

You truly looked angelic like that.

Suffice it to say, Minoru never bothered you again after that day. In fact, his name disappeared from the site not too soon after.

。。。。。

But now, to continue the grueling task of giving a context for your inevitable end, it is necessary to jump a month further into the future, barely a week from the excruciating present.

Because it was then that the last strike finished nailing the coffin of your proverbial undoing, burying you under the weight of your own ignorance.

You got your notice in the mail on the Day of Announcements, an inconspicuous letter lacking any further distinction beyond a scarlet government seal emblazoned across its front. But even before you opened and read the message, you already knew of its contents—easily recognizing the image before you from several of the varied posts you had seen floating around on the forums lately.

Purge Notice!!! Help needed Urgently.

Just got my letter. Do I stay hidden or fight back? [Open poll]

Third time getting mine. AMA about my methods.

The range of how you had seen other users reacting to their own selections was diverse, with some of them being more experienced while others, such as you, had just gotten their first letter ever. If things played out differently for you, then you were sure you would've been another one of the numerous panicked voices, awkwardly trying to maneuver their way out of their new situation.

And maybe, then, your odds wouldn't have been so completely fucked from the start.

As it stood, as soon as you laid eyes on the notice, the first thing you thought of was how quickly you could boot up your computer and open the forum’s private messages. Because, for the first time in forever, you were overwhelmed by the feeling of someone else being there for you.

Shou was your friend, had earned that spot fair and square after months of listening to you venting and sharing deep discussions; faster than you could even realize it, and so it was only natural for you to seek his help once the news of your selection for the new yearly Purge reached you.

He had even threatened another user for your sake, for fuck’s sake. So, really, what harm could come out of relying on someone you were sure was trustworthy?

Maybe it was too late by that point for you to snap out of it, but it was almost amusing seeing you being so easily deceived.

Just another reason why you needed him, certainly.

。。。。。

Already told you I'd have your back, had been his immediate reply barely an instant after you attached a candid photo of your hand holding up the envelope. Whatever you need, I’m here.

His lack of hesitation was palpable through your screen, heart hammering in your chest as you were faced with a kindness you had thought yourself undeserving of not long ago.

As soon as you closed your mailbox, you had immediately raced to send him the message, completely foregoing telling any of your other friends or family members when you doubted they would even understand you in the first place. Shou had been right when he told you people just didn’t want to see the truth, even if it slapped them right in the face, leaving dark imprints in the shape of their narrow mindedness.

But he was there, he was letting you know as much, in his own words. And for what felt like the hundredth time in the past few months, you felt incredibly lucky to have stumbled upon the Forums in the first place, to have traced whatever fortunate path had led you to find him—the one person able to distinguish you in a world you always thought you blended straight into.

Thank you, Shou, for everything. And at that moment, you really had been truthful, so much so that there were tears prickling at your eyes, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude drowning you with its intensity.

Indeed, your final mistake had been your desperate need for acceptance. A need that had, in the end, cost you everything.

You can call me Shouto now. No use for nicknames anymore.

Amidst the chaos of your life possibly crashing down all around you, somehow his revelation put a trembling smile back in your face.

Then allow me to repeat: thank you, Shouto.

Np, Newbie. Told you I'd help you level up, didn't I?

His teasing managed to garner a small stuttering laugh out of you despite the dreadfulness of your situation.

But you couldn’t help it. Somehow, every reply Shouto sent you only served to wrap the illusion of safety tighter around you. So tight in fact, that you should’ve started worrying about suffocating.

。。。。。

On the other side of the screen, the man with the multicolored hair couldn’t help but keep staring at the picture you had sent him earlier.

He was transfixed, eyes almost unblinking as they refused to separate from the image. The way your fingers tentatively held the letter up for the picture was simply adorable to him. Beautifully naive.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen your face before, like he hadn't already memorized the texture of your skin and the everlasting trace of a frown always threatening to dampen your mood. He read your expressions like poetry, every mole and scar furthering the securing of his interest.

But this was the first picture you had actually chosen to send him out of your own volition, the final symbol of a trust he had worked so tirelessly to earn. Used to catching prey as he was, the man wasn’t entirely sure when you had turned from a game into a priority, from a priority into the only thing he could even make himself care for.

And it didn’t help that it was his letter you were holding, too. His formal declaration of pursuit.

With time, Shouto was sure you would find it in yourself to appreciate the beauty of such irony.

But, for now, what he really needed to do was buy some tea. Couldn’t have your own stubbornness ruining your first encounter, could he?

。。。。。

In the coming weeks, your friend aided you and even coached you as you jointly planned for the horrific holiday, not only suggesting ideas but tracing the safety measures needed for them to succeed. You really had no reason to doubt him by that point.

That evening, after you finished letting Shouto know you were back from work, you made sure to pack all of your supplies into an inconspicuous bag you had acquired for the occasion. Whoever your Yandere was, it was best to not give any hints of your new acquisitions, just in case they were already stalking your movements.

Shouto had helped you devise the list, mentoring you in your selection of weapons as well as self-defense arsenal—what brands of pepper spray to get, which ammunitions were most efficient and reliable, even what kind of clothing was the least troublesome if the need to escape ever arose. If you had been sure he knew his craft before, now you were surprised at just how vast his wisdom genuinely was.

After the last few finishing touches of preparations, you were already on your way to the direction you had both agreed on (supplied by him, approved by you). There were several hours until the start of the Purge still, but the adrenaline swimming through your bloodstream was already considerable.

Shouto had suggested you visited him for the Holiday, quoting how the measures in place for his home made it nothing short of a fortified vault, impossible for any outsiders to break into (and for anyone to break out of, but let's not get ahead of ourselves).

With that in mind, how could you have refused his offer? Your place was barely an excuse for an apartment, windows that didn't entirely close, and feeble doors that could be easily broken into. Even if you weren't partly driven by the curiosity of meeting your new internet idol turned friend, it would've been foolish to decline.

So in a few hours, you were sporting a nervous smile on your face as you parked your car in front of the largest apartment complex you had ever encountered. It was luxurious in a way you had only seen staring back at you from a television screen, marble, and gold accents giving you the impression you were about to step into a drama set instead of visiting an online friend.

Before the surrealism of the entire situation could begin to set in, however, you noticed the young man sitting on the ample stairs of the building. He had an air of effortless elegance, tall and lithe, yet sporting a black turtleneck which hugged his frame and made it clear just how much sheer strength hid behind his movements.

And he also sported the same peculiarly colored locks you had already memorized from the last few months, the light softly reflecting on them proving to be an even more impressive show when admired live.

You were dazzled for an instant, wondering if, somehow, this entire thing was a prank and the Shou from the forums had just schemed his way into making a fool out of you in front of a handsome stranger. Way too convoluted, yet entirely too plausible to your bewildered self.

Until the man lifted his eyes—as beautifully dual-toned as his hair, and catching sight of you standing just beside your recently parked vehicle.

"Y/N," he was sharply climbing to his feet as he called out your name, the shy hint of a smile in his lip contradicting the monotone cadence of his tone. "Good to finally meet you."

You had first been under the impression that the Shou you knew was cold, the way he interacted with others on the site reminding you of an emotionless robot at times, but the man addressing you seemed like he was ripped straight out of a stereotypical rom-com.

Maybe he'd be the aloof, tormented heir? Which, in your fantasy drama land, would make you the nearly illiterate and poor love interest. Your feelings of inadequacy only grew at the comparison.

Almost cute, how that had been one of your greatest worries once upon a time. How foolishly eager you were to be liked back then.

"Shouto." The name still felt somewhat strange on your lips, even after he had insisted you started calling him that. "It's good to meet you, too."

He was by your side in an instant, taking your bags from you swiftly and shutting the door to your ride. From this up close, it became considerably harder to disguise your staring.

Even the scar which covered his left eye, a splash of reddish textured skin, somehow came across like yet another enhancer of his appeal. An underlying harshness which you couldn't help but be intrigued by.

"Your hair looks even better in person."

And leave it to you to once again find a way to screw first impressions. You were chastising yourself a mere second after the words left your mouth.

But Shouto only sent you that same hint of a smirk your way, his eyes appearing genuinely pleased at your praise. If he thought you were a weirdo and was regretting ever inviting you to his house, then he was a good enough actor for you to be fooled.

And fooled you he did, but with completely different intentions.

"You look just like in your pictures," came his serene retort not long after.

Which you assumed was a joke, keeping in mind that the only photo you had ever sent his way had been of the Purge letter you received a few days ago.

Laughing lightly, you tried to ignore the nerves tugging at your chest before catching up with him on the steps of the building.

As you giddily barged straight into the open jaws of the beast, it once again struck Shouto how utterly unsuspecting you were. How you trusted him so wholeheartedly.

He couldn't wait to see it all come crashing down.

。。。。。

Inside his honest to god penthouse, your previous feeling of insufficiency only became more severe.

The interiors were decorated sparingly, albeit fashionably. Filled with different muted shades and being unexpectedly traditional in the way they were designed. It was a stunning abode, even if you couldn't help but mentally point out how utterly unlived in it appeared.

There was not a single cup, shoe, or book out of place, everything perfectly polished and organized to the point that you felt hesitance as your sock-covered feet continued making their way through the place.

"Make yourself at home," Shouto told you most matter-of-factly. If you weren't so sure of his intentions by now, perhaps you would've thought he was being sarcastic.

Without any of your belongings to distract yourself with, you instead gravitated towards what you could see of the kitchen through one of the sliding doors.

It was very modern despite the rest of the aesthetic the penthouse sported, shiny stainless steel and spotless dark countertops. It should've looked out of place when paired with the carpeted floors, wooden furniture, and sparse pieces of classical Japanese art…

Yet somehow, it strangely fits. Just like his owner, you supposed, thinking back to the oddities that amounted to his unique brand of appeal.

And you really needed to stop thinking of your friend like that.

When you heard the door to the apartment being audibly locked with a resounding click, you instantly stopped your fingers grazing the smooth countertops. Your instincts flared up with worry for a moment, right before you forcefully willed yourself to calm down.

After reminding yourself of the true reason why you were there, the exhale you released next was one of clear relief.

"Want something to drink?" Shouto appeared in your line of sight again, hands buried in the pockets of his pants and looking like the picture of composure.

You felt embarrassed once again, knowing he had given you a free pass to roam but still somewhat self-conscious about intruding on his space.

"You don't need to make me anything. I'm fine." Your timbre was apologetic, not used to slipping into the role of a guest just yet.

He seemed strangely dissatisfied with your answer, closing some of the distance between you with a presence that had you almost flinching back for a second.

There was an intensity in his gaze, something which you could not quite yet place.

"But I want to be a good host. So let me." He appeared very serious about it, too, with his face growing stern as his peculiar eyes bore into yours.

Not wanting to cause further distress, you imagined relenting would be the best course of action.

It was like you were molded to be the perfect Darling, so wonderfully meek and gullible.

"Okay then. Water is fine."

Yet Shouto shook his head, still somewhat dissatisfied with your answer.

"Tea it is." His phrasing allowed little space for argument. "I know you mentioned liking a few brands before, so I took the liberty of stocking up on them."

A surprising burst of laughter broke through your anxious feelings then, drawing Shouto's eyes again from the particular cabinet they had drifted to as he mentioned the beverages.

He looked at you puzzled, an unasked question written all over his otherwise blank expression, and so you decided to reply from the surge of unexpected amusement you were experiencing.

"It's only a night, Shou," you didn't even realize you had slipped back into his nickname, too entertained by how much he had apparently overdone his hospitality. "There really wasn't any need for you to go buy my favorite teas."

His eyes blinked quite slowly your way, his expression back to his vacant mask before a smile reappeared.

"I wanted you to feel welcomed," he supplied as he approached the cabinet he was eyeing before, dedicating himself to searching for whatever kind of flavor of tea he had in mind.

In response, you just shrugged your shoulders with another chuckle.

"And I didn't get you anything. You're making me feel even more out of place."

"Nonsense," he cut you off in that deadpan way of his, hands rummaging through the most ridiculously vast tea collection you had ever seen. And then he added, decidedly quieter, "today is supposed to be about you, after all."

Too bad you didn't pick up on it.

When he ushered you back to the salon with barely a wave next, pointing at one of the cushions arranged around the short-legged table, you decided to follow his suggestion and wait there while he finished brewing the drinks. By now, you understood the futility of offering any kind of help when he was still so intent on properly welcoming you.

So, curious as you were, your eyes continued to inspect each and every inch of the apartment, drinking up all the pieces of info you could observe, that you didn't even think of the potential dangers of letting a stranger fix you a cup while you weren't looking.

Unbeknownst to the other, you were both actively counting down the seconds until the Purge started, minds lost to your own inner turmoils from opposite sides of the suite.

And for entirely different reasons, you were both filled with anticipation.

。。。。。

Meanwhile, finally back in the present after retracing the steps that guided you there, it was becoming increasingly hard to compartmentalize the chaos brewing inside you.

Shouto’s lips were the personification of hunger against yours, an inescapable gluttony to mark and consume every single inch of you he could encompass.

After a hint of understanding returned to your body post-orgasm, your vision and the sensations you endured were becoming disturbingly vivid. It was impossible to conceive anything beyond his hands ridding you of your flimsy camisole, palms cold in comparison to the heat you felt, splaying against your sides and slowly making their way up the sensitive mounds of your chest.

“All mine, baby.” You barely registered his teeth nipping at your bottom lip until a shock of pain snapped you out of your trance.

He bit you, and quite harshly too, but when you tried to instinctually pull back his response was to hold you even tighter. Before you could attempt to voice your complaints, his tongue was darting out to clean up the droplets of blood he spilled.

“Out of all the Darlings I’ve played with, you’re the only one I’ve ever even considered keeping, you know?”

And now that had you freezing, even amidst the cloud of desire still muddling your cognizance. His arms pressed you closer still, forcing you to bury your face against his chest, completely unphased by the bloody mess your mouth had morphed into.

Had he tricked others before then? Was that the reason why he was even on the Forums in the first place?

You wanted to ask him what he meant, wanted to demand explanations for a phrase that had dread closing around your neck like a noose. But whatever he slipped into your drink to keep you so awfully responsive and pliable, also appeared to make forming any complex sentences incredibly hard…

Shou, ever the receptive one, caught onto your change in demeanor rather aptly. His face nuzzled your hair softly, humming a calming melody as if you were a scared child who could be so easily reassured. Meanwhile, his hands hadn’t abandoned your breasts, still tenderly kneading them with a touch bordering on worship.

“But I’m glad you weren’t my first, baby. Means I could be all ready for when we met.” He rocked you both as he rested his back further on the sofa, opening his legs wider below you and forcing you to settle closer to his clothed groin with a whimper.

Your arms reached out to grasp his shoulders while you tried to stabilize yourself, the strain of his erection resting snuggly against your still sensitive slit.

"Helped me to know when to pull back," he kept confessing, purposefully thrusting into you while he kept lovingly massaging your chest, fingers twisting your hardened peaks to coax a new kind of mewl to be uttered against his skin. "Wouldn't want you to break now that I've finally found you."

The fact that your bodies seemed to fit so perfectly, even in your impaired state, was not an irony lost on you.

Abruptly, Shouto stopped fondling your breasts in order to maneuver your face again, both of your stares meeting in a vehement standoff before he continued.

“I’ll make this as close to perfection as I can, I promise you.” And you got a direct view of the vulnerability in his uniquely colored eyes, the nature of his words clearly heartfelt despite the atrocities they alluded to.

As you heard him drag his zipper down, the hand clutching your jaw trembling in anticipation, you couldn’t help the new wave of warmth spreading through your body, negating all the fear and anxiousness warring inside you in order to shamefully expose your baser desires.

Now that whatever had been clouding your judgment was pulling back slightly, your thought process had begun to snap back into place, overflowing you with a terrible sense of shame at your own reactions.

He gave you something earlier with your drink, you were sure of it, and yet you couldn’t help but still be horrified at just how much you were enjoying it. Once you felt the flushed head of his cock placidly rubbing against your thigh, the sounds leaving your mouth weren’t ones of complaint, peril or dissent.

Quite the contrary, actually, and it only made Shouto grow bolder.

As the hand clutching your face grew tenser, gripping you with force before tugging harshly, you got the hint. Now painfully following his lead, it wasn't long before the previous pressure against your legs was now resting directly against your cunt.

The pre-cum already gathered on him mixed in with your still oozing arousal, smearing the span of your outer lips as he lightly teased you one last time.

You were so mortified by that point, that if he had offered to end your embarrassment right then and there with one of the several weapons you knew he kept, you would’ve been very inclined to accept.

“... I didn’t even think there was such a thing as 'The One' before, actually.” You hadn’t even realized the man was still talking, ardent whispers getting lost on the intensity of the situation.

His eyes were searching your face, a satisfied twinkle lighting them up as soon as you returned his stare of your very own volition. Perturbed, you wondered if his delusion made him see anything beyond a twisted mix of lust and fear reflected back at him.

“But I now know just how wrong I was, Y/N.” So sure of himself, tone back to the stern cadence you previously associated with him for a moment, gripped by a gravity befitting of his obsession. “Indeed, I think you were always meant to be my darling… don't you agree?”

To your credit, you did struggle to speak up, to gain back the control over a body which had stopped listening long ago. Too bad you only managed a single pitiful word out.

“Shouto…”

But before you could even fathom attempting a better response, he was breaching into you, sheathing himself with an ease you wished you could overlook, turning your voice from an anguished plea into outrageously labored moans.

You had once thought Shou had been interested in you because he somehow perceived you as anything but pathetic, but you were beginning to think it had been your weakness which drew him in all along.

So deliciously frail, that even a predator like him had been driven with an urgent need to protect you. To break you down, just so he could be the one to build you back together.

As he started fucking you with shallow thrusts, hips bucking up from the sofa while he tenderly guided you until your body was mimicked his motion on its own, you couldn’t help but be the most disturbed at his oddly affectionate ways.

As awful as it sounded, now that your mind had awakened from its stupor all you wanted was for him to bend you over and abuse you, manhandle you and mistreat you in a way which unequivocally screamed assault. You wanted bruises painting your skin, proof that you hadn’t just willingly given up and facilitated your own ruin.

He was humiliating you despite the pretty words he decided to disguise it as—showing you how easily he could own you and even make you enjoy it, drug-addled drink or not.

But as his mouth latched around one of your hardened nipples, sucking generously until his name was once again fast on your tongue, you also couldn’t deny the crystal clear responses you were giving.

You could attempt to lie to yourself later, could swear it was all a delusion born out of the deranged man's mind, but the particular brand of your screams was unmistakable.

When your own hand reached down to facilitate your release, you knew you were already acting beyond what you could've previously attributed to the drugs. Toying with your bundle of nerves, you rested your forehead against Shouto's shoulders, tears from the pleasure mixing in with the subjacent agony of your guilt.

Why did it have to feel so good? And how far did the drugs truly affect you? Or had they just peeled back your inhibitions perhaps, baring you until all you had were dark desires and no self-control to contain them.

You still tasted blood inside your mouth when your walls started clenching around his cock, the coppery flavor entirely too vivid on your tongue. Hearing his own choked groans gasping against your chest, you felt his mouth abandoning your bud with a pop before his kisses were trailing a path back up—eager in their search of your face, your lips.

You were still cumming by the time a lascivious kiss connected you two again, unwinding in his grasp until his hands were the only thing keeping you whole.

“Even if I wasn't taught how,” he began promising while his rhythm grew frantic, barely resisting the allure of your core fluttering around him. “I promise I’ll love you, Y/N. Love you so good, you won’t ever want to leave when the next Purge comes.” He was getting increasingly excited by his own words, imagining a future where you did not need the aid of a little cup of tea to eagerly kiss back. “I’ll fuck you every day, fill you up and show you just how much I care. How much you matter.”

Faced with his degenerate promises, all you could do was gasp out his name one last time, perhaps seeking to express your reticence, perhaps oddly excited by the image he was painting.

You indulged him in the pitiful sound of your whimpers molding around its syllables, and it wasn’t long before you were coaxing him to join you with an orgasm of his own.

He actually came inside, you recognized inwardly after the aftershocks of enjoyment now quieted down to a lull, a new type of dread quickly following the realization. His cum was still shooting in hot ropes, stuffing you to the brim with the intent and purpose of a man bent on marking you, owning you.

But Shouto was so loving as he kissed you time and time again, painfully reminding you of just how nice he could be for you, how gentle and attentive. It made the lines between your tormentor and a traditional lover blur even further, the confusion clouding your sense not merely born out of narcotics any longer.

You had been so preoccupied with a monster outside your house once. A creature ripped from the kind of movies that were ripe with cheap scares and considerably cheaper thrills.

But monsters never were like that in real life, were they? As the man continued to cradle you in his arms like the most vulnerable of creatures, you were suddenly struck by how glaringly obvious things should’ve been from the beginning.

Because your Yandere’s obsession had not come with claws and a row of sharp teeth. No, it came instead with a suit of deception to hug its frame, the bait of acceptance, and the promise of a reliable ear to comfortably listen. It arrived with whispers that assured you that you were not alone, that it was not you who was flawed, but the world for not welcoming you.

It dangled everything your little heart desired, so by the time you were reaching out, you were simply too distracted to notice the dangers of the abyss you were throwing yourself at.

Luckily for you, Shouto had made such a void his home. And for however long it took you to consider the darkness as your own, his was a kind of hospitality that no amount of your struggles could ever hope to wear down.

And if the worst came to pass, if you kept stubbornly refusing and fighting despite your odds? Well…

He could always brew you another cup of tea.

-------

Well, I can finally rest now 💀

This monster of a one-shot took me a lot longer than expected, so I ended up being a lil later to the collab that I would’ve liked. Either way, I’d really appreciate hearing any feedback or opinions on either the fic or art (or both?)... I swear that’s what keeps me motivated ;___;

So fr, thanks to everyone who takes the time to let me know your takes! y’all are the bests of the best 🖤 And speaking of bests of best, special thanks and gratitude to the actual angels who helped and gave me feedback for both the art and/or fic @reinawritesbnha , @drxwsyni, @wootato, @snappysnapo and @coyambition. Don’t catch me seeing y’all drop your crowns bc it’s on sight 😠 👑

#bnha fanart #todoroki #yandere todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha imagines #bnha #mha fanart #bnha x reader #todoroki fanart #todoroki smut #todoroki shouto #todoroki shoto #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #anime fanart #bnha smut #bnha art #artists on tumblr #just art tingz

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chroma-ki · 3 years

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What Happens When Society Fails Those Who Could Succeed - A Bakugo Katsuki Analysis

I started this a while ago, but I’ve seen others delve into this topic and I wanted to share as well. This delves into to hero society’s affects on Bakugo Katsuki’s upbringing, his worldview, his self-view, and Izuku’s involvement in breaking down the ideas society has drilled into his head.

A lot of people like to ignore the fact that Katsuki is a 14-year-old kid at the start of the series and that much of his life, attitude and disposition of the world have been completely shaped by the adults and society around him.

What do you expect a kid with potential to turn into when they are warped in such a way by a society that dictates that they need to be strong, or nothing at all? What about when your only value is based around a sliding scale of strength and weakness? What happens when that kid’s only source of help comes in the form of a reckless, selfless child who defies all sense of logic and reason (Izuku)?

Growing up, Bakugo was constantly praised for being strong, having a powerful quirk and being generally the smartest person in the room at any given time. He could arguably be considered a prodigy, and much of what he sees and learns feels beneath him -- because it's already on his mind. He is a kid with natural god-given talent that everyone around him immediately recognizes as above average.

Even as a toddler, he was constantly a step ahead of everyone else. Due to this, people developed a lot of high expectations for him at a young age -- and it doesn't help that he has a naturally competitive streak that makes him constantly want to prove himself and live up to these expectations; even surpass them.

Always being at the top of his class and being ahead of the curve mentally fuel the idea in Katsuki's mind that, in the game of life, he is 'winning'. Yet, at the same time, none of it is ever enough. Other's high expectations of him cause him to build extremely high expectations of himself; expectations that border on unrealistic. They also inflate his ego exponentially when this praise gets reaffirmed time and time again.

Certainly, in a situation where you're raised on other people's praise and validation, it is completely understandable that you would put a lot of emotional emphasis on other people's opinions of you. On top of that, he gives off such a natural and convincing air of confidence that people can't help but feel that he is reliable, despite his attitude. People are awed by him, and all of it feeds into the mental image he has constructed of himself, and the world as a whole. It's the whole reason for a lot of how he acts. He builds an image of himself based on the praise of those around him -- and even Izuku also feeds into this mentality by worshipping the literal ground Katsuki walks on as a kid.

This mentality seems to be working fine for him until Izuku's very presence starts to throw a wrench into everything Katsuki has been raised to believe.

Izuku completely defies logic to Katsuki. Izuku does not fit the societal norm and, beyond what others have taught him, Izuku is Katsuki’s only real hint that the world might not be quite what he thinks it is, and that his idea of what it means to be strong may not be a ‘one-size fits all’ defenition.

Izuku is a quirkless kid; weak and generally mild-mannered. He doesn't have any self-confidence and is a big crybaby. Yet, Izuku still believes that he can be strong and become a hero -- when Katsuki has always been told the opposite. Katsuki recognizes that this may be some version of strength he is unaware of, and it raises BIG RED FLAGS in his mind.

Where many of Katsuki's other childhood friends were barely more than acquaintances who he forgot over time, Izuku immediately caught Katsuki's interest and spiked his curiosity. Like everyone else in his life, Izuku praised Katsuki and told him all the things he wanted to hear -- but Izuku was also unique and intelligent. Izuku was the first person who actually seemed like they could stand near Katsuki's level; like they might be actual competition.

Then, Bakugo got his quirk and Izuku is diagnosed as quirkless. The reactions of everyone around him to this news, including Izuku’s own reaction, only go back to telling him what society has told him all along. Strength is everything, and quirks are a part of that desired strength. This is another moment that reaffirms Katsuki's world view. "I won, you lose. I really am the best."

Though Bakugo is super aggressive on the outside, he is a very self-critical character and often means the opposite of whatever he is saying. Especially when it comes to his self-confidence and bravado.

People often complain when watching the series about him telling people to 'die' and "got to hell", or calling other people "extras", and I don't think enough people understand -- that is just how he speaks. Those are things he says out of reflexive anger. None of those words ever have any real meaning.

It's more important to pay more attention to the moments in which he is more reserved/quiet. He suffers from both a superiority complex and inferiority complex, as well as paranoia (much of which revolves around his warped idea of how Deku, and other people he values, perceive him). Much of what he says is just empty words or him trying to project an image of self-confidence.

He wears his pride like a suit of armor to hide all the things he doesn't want to admit about himself. He attempts to make up for his own insecurities by getting angry. And he learned this at home from his mother, who is much the same as him.

From the little that we have seen of his parents throughout the series so far, his parents love him and provide him with everything he could possibly need -- but his mother often insults him and throws harsh truths in his face to counteract his cocky nature. One of the most notable instances of this is when All Might and Aizawa are talking to his parents about moving the kids to the dorms and his mom says "If you hadn't have gotten yourself caught by the villains in the first place, none of this would have happened".

That comment feeds directly into his mental breakdown in front of Izuku where he blames himself for All Might's downfall, flat out saying that "If I hadn't been kidnapped by villains, then it never would have happened".

It gets me every time if you go back to the 8th episode of the series, near the VERY BEGINNING -- right after he's defeated by Deku for the first time in combat training -- and the episode literally starts with him having a full on panic attack.

He's trembling, hands shaking, hyperventilating, the whole deal. And that particular incident was triggered not only by Deku defeating him and standing up to him (which completely contradicts the Izuku that Bakugo has grown up with all his life and feeds into Bakugo's own fear that he is weak), but is also brought on by the fact that he notices how severely Deku allowed himself to be injured JUST TO WIN THE EXCERSIZE. Again, this idea that even the weak can be strong. It also doesn’t help that he cares about Izuku and doesn’t want to see him get hurt.

And I'm sorry -- but below does not look like the face of someone who's pissed off to me. He looks PETRIFIED.

Izuku doesn't just piss Bakugo off -- Izuku TERRIFIES him.

There are actually multiple instances of him reacting like this to Izuku injuring himself throughout the series: sludge villain, sports festival fight against Todoroki and the training camp where Bakugo was kidnapped being the major ones I can think of beyond current managa events. Bakugo may claim to ‘hate’ Deku, but he DOES NOT like to see Deku hurt himself to win, or to save.

Bakugo saw this 'self-sacrificing' trait in Izuku even as a young kid, and it freaked him out. It made him feel weak. It made him question himself and the world around him.

This fear starts with the incident where Bakugo fell off the log as a kid.

It wasn't a life threatening situation, but it was the first situation where Izuku rushed to Bakugo's aid with complete disregard to himself AND when everyone else refused to help.

Bakugo's friends, teachers and parents all held him to such high expectations of intelligence, power and strength -- so of course those would be the values that he grows up idolizing. No one ever really offered him help, because they assumed he didn't need it -- and then Izuku comes rushing in offering it to him, risking his life to do so, and Katsuki's only thought is "Why?! Why do you feel like you have to save me when you can't even protect yourself? Needing to be saved means that I'm weak! Do you think that I'm weak?" I have recently watched another show that had a similar scenario and that character explained what I believe Katsuki felt in this situation BEAUTIFULLY. ------ “It felt like [he] was trying to say I was weak or something. [He] was intruding on feelings [he] didn’t have any right to – and I hated it. Then that got me thinking about everyone else in my life. They never treated me like I was a weakling; someone who needed his hand held. They had faith that I would continue to grow and they let me do it; helping me without ever making me feel weak.”

Izuku continues to do this again and again throughout the series when it comes to Bakugo: the slime villain incident, the training camp, etc -- all without fully comprehending how his actions affect Bakugo. Each time this happens, Bakugo feels weak and utterly helpless to save himself OR to stop Izuku. It's all his worst fears realized.

It's like living his worst nightmare over and over without end in sight.

Going back to the concept of him being offered 'help', very few people have offered him this throughout his life -- and they all saw it as something he never really needed. It's like Katsuki's personality and mental state is a huge sign screaming 'I DON'T UNDERSTAND! NOTHING MAKES SENSE! IT MAKES ME MAD AND UPSET! SOMEONE, HELP ME.' and everyone just ignores it.

--- During the log incident - all his friends say 'Oh well, he's fine. He'll pick himself back up.' and Izuku is the only one who offers to help.

--- The sludge villain incident - all the pro heroes say "We can't help right now! You'll just have to hold on, kid!" and again Izuku is the only one who offers help.

--- After his and Deku’s first fight at Ground Beta, which utterly breaks him, all the other students just let him leave alone and only Izuku rushes to help. All Might sees him upset and crying after this and says, “Oh, I guess he’s already over it” -- when that obviously wasn’t the case.

--- And then -- to top it all off -- after he was kidnapped by the LOV and held captive for 3 days without help he wasn't even given time to process! He was taken away by police, ridiculed by his mother, forced to go back to school where his teachers acted like nothing happened, jumped into the provisional hero licensing exam with all those helpless feelings rolling around inside of him and on top of it found out that Izuku received All Might's power -- a power that he had spent his whole life putting on a pedestal. And he goes to Izuku for help.

The fact that everyone just brushed him off like he was someone who didn't need help is just disgusting. The only instance where an adult in his life acknowledged that he needed it was AFTER he already had a full on mental breakdown in front of Izuku, blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong and thinking that he had somehow been living his life wrong all this time. Only then did All Might and Aizawa think, ‘Yeah, maybe we failed this kid.’

Keep in mind during all of this that he is 15-16-years-old! He's trying to figure out how to deal with this shit all on his own, with the only person he feels comfortable opening up to being Izuku - someone who he has so much trouble understanding.

At the heart of Katsuki is a place of fear. Fear of being weak, fear of being helpless, fear of failure, fear of losing his friends, fear of himself, most certainly fear of Izuku -- and fear FOR IZUKU. He is a boy who lives in a constant state of panic, worry and paranoia. He is lonely and beats down on himself a lot.

The series deals a lot with how hero society has completely failed it's future generations, but Katsuki is a case where they should have succeeded -- yet ultimately they failed him too. He has all the makings of what could be one of the greatest heroes of all time, yet those around him only focused on the parts of him that could make him great and chose to ignore all the parts that would ruin him from the inside out.

They put him high up on a pedestal only to knock him down and refuse to help him back up. They made him feel like even asking for help was something that made him 'lesser', and it caused him to see other people that way too.

Izuku is the heart of Katsuki's growth, because in every way that Izuku succeeds, Katsuki fails.

I would actually argue that out of anyone in the series since coming to UA, Katsuki has experienced the highest amount of personal failure. He has been knocked down time and time again but ultimately wants to pick himself back up to prove that he deserves to be there. He fights for his friends and tries his best at everything he does. He doesn't always get it right, and he says things that might offend others, but other than Izuku, he's the most driven person there and would utterly destroy himself to reach his goals.

#bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #mha #my hero academia #meta analysis #kacchan #deku #bakudeku #katsudeku #bkdk

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mymovingfingerwrites · 4 years

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who is't can read a woman?

let's talk about shakespeare’s women. let’s talk about how they linger at the sides of the pages, their thoughts hidden between iambic pentameter, how their growth occurs when the audience is focused on battles and betrayals and men who command attention, who dominate the narrative so needily. even the "strong female characters" are analyzed in relation to their men. even the most powerful woman is owned – or ignored.

which fate is worse?

let’s talk about ophelia. ophelia, who was barely mentioned past her funeral scene. ophelia, who refused to take herself to a nunnery (to take herself to disrespect and shame, to exclude herself) and instead took herself to death. ophelia, who chose her father over hamlet, who chose unconditional love over that of trinkets and uncertainty, who refused to be a tangent to another’s path of growth. ophelia, who withstood hamlet’s games with a blank face carefully crafted, who left rue behind to the queen but also to herself, who understood regret. hamlet cried words, words, words and wavered between two paths. ophelia, who understood madness, chose her own. did she regret her actions, or merely that she was forced to take them? ophelia, who perhaps died from a broken branch or a vengeful queen or simply from floating herself to sleep, the pale blue sky relentlessly unchallenging. ophelia, who wove flowers in her hair as talismans of protection and hid truths behind nonsensical songs, whose strength is derived from her fragility and not in spite of her femininity.

a discussion about fragility is not complete without miranda, so let us turn our attention there. yes, let’s talk about miranda, who knew as well as caliban how dangerous language can be. caliban learned how to curse. (miranda learned to—what, to cajole? to care? perhaps what miranda learned is that it matters what you say but also why you say it). miranda, the magician’s daughter, who understands several types of magic. miranda, the beloved daughter, who understands how to enchant, to bewitch, to delight. let’s talk about a miranda striving to maintain her femininity in a world of men. was she forced to, or was it a conscious choice – a rebellion? miranda knows about rebellion. miranda has learned about perfidy. is her immediate infatuation with her prince an act of defiance? is her optimism insurgent? miranda, whose virginity precedes her. miranda, who remains hopeful, whose naivety is carefully maintained, who faces a brave new world without a hint of fear, whose virtue is as sharp and cutting as a sword.

and of course, who can forget juliet? juliet has become famous (and also reviled, diminished, disregarded by those unwilling to consider a teenage girl has iron behind soft curves and lacy nightdresses). (juliet would probably not be okay with this). who can forget the tale of juliet and her romeo? hers. juliet, who was willing to fight for romeo, who was willing to lie and twist and deceive and leave the safety of her family for her love. (hers). juliet, who was willing to die for a boy who smiled at her from across the room at a party, for a boy who (was perhaps in love with another) lurked beneath her balcony and proclaimed love, for a boy who represented everything she was not supposed to desire (but allowed herself to anyway). can we consider that perhaps juliet was in love not with romeo but with the idea of betrayal? barely a full day passed before juliet escaped paris and bound herself to romeo, and if juliet wept over his prone and cooling body, will we deny that she also wept at the loss of her freedom? juliet understands that she cannot achieve freedom on her own. juliet understands that some bindings are looser than others but in the end she is always bound. juliet dies as an afterthought to her romeo, but she perhaps also dies as a preclude to the rest of her life. juliet betrays. (juliet escapes).

we’ve talked about love. we’ve talked about love that consumes, that saves, that kills. what about love between women?

let’s talk about three sisters.

let’s talk about cordelia first. why not? cordelia is the dutiful daughter, the kind sister, the one that forgives and cares and sacrifices. cordelia, who refuses to lie in her father’s test because she does not love for money or land or approval but for its own sake, who recognizes her duty and acknowledges it but also leaves quietly when she is stripped of it. does cordelia truly love lear? no more or no less. cordelia understands this idea, this balance. it would not be difficult to imagine cordelia applying it to the rest of her life, doing what is expected of her but not compromising her ideals, building her happiness without infringing on that of others, seeking growth without focusing solely on success. cordelia is mentioned only in context of her father, first to be rejected and then to forgive. her life must be imagined.

let’s talk about a cordelia who grows up the youngest of three, who watches her sisters scheme and manipulate and fight, who sees complex ties and alliances forged and then broken without a thought, and decides early on that she will not be a tool in someone else’s plan. (cordelia probably loved her sisters no more or no less than they deserved, too).

however, no woman is without flaws. could we not fault cordelia for resenting her family? could we not imagine that cordelia closes her eyes briefly in regret before opening them to meet her father’s sightless ones without a flinch? could we not imagine that cordelia feels a flash of vindication, a burning sense of victory, when she hears about her sisters’ fates? cordelia wins. cordelia endures.

let’s talk about the others. goneril, next. if we close our eyes, can we imagine goneril young? where did she learn that she must twist her tongue if she wants people to dance to the tune she produces, that betrayal is more reliable than trust, that she must measure her worth in tangible objects because the intangible is too nebulous to be used as a reliable metric of success? the oldest daughter, who holds her head high not because she chooses to but because she has known nothing else. let’s talk about how goneril sees through her father’s ploy and is determined to win, who is cheated once again when her father’s men lay waste to her rightful inheritance, who thinks (hopes?) that edmund can match her, who uses deviousness as a carefully sharpened rapier. goneril, who loses. if we stretch our imagination, can we admit that loss is likely familiar to goneril? goneril, whose aggression is considered unfeminine and therefore disgraceful, who is compared to edmund and considered to fall short, who is ignored and dismissed even as she lashes out. it is difficult not to pity goneril. goneril, who chooses suicide in an attempt to avoid defeat once again, who is willing to accept failure for a man who is merely using her, who is not even honored with an on-stage depiction of her death, who is passed aside once more, who fails. goneril, who seeks power but also love, who refuses to submit even in death.

let’s talk about regan. continuing with our brief foray into speculation, can we imagine regan as a young girl, caught between goneril’s reign of terror and cordelia’s quiet defiance? regan’s power derives from her ability to make choices. let’s talk about how regan is often overlooked, how she is hidden behind cordelia’s virtue and goneril’s vengeance. let’s talk about how regan’s retaliation is swifter and more effective than either sister could have predicted. regan, who is practiced at the art of deception, who has several types of smiles available to parcel out to those around her, who once spent hours looking at herself carefully in the mirror to determine how raising an eyebrow or widening her eyes or quirking her lips could change her entire demeanor, who is unafraid to hide venom behind sweetness. goneril and cordelia both lacked subtlety. regan embraces it.

let’s talk about regan, who displays cruelty but also regret, who identifies edmund as the object of goneril’s desire and then carefully, slowly, slyly takes him. regan, who understands the power of perceptions, whose actions are carefully calculated. regan, who shows concern for gloucester perhaps out of genuine feeling but perhaps as a strategy. cordelia endures, goneril fights, but regan achieves.

shakespeare wrote girls that were delicate but not weak, young and perhaps naive but not unintelligent, impulsive but also resolute, faltering without sacrificing courage. shakespeare wrote girls that understood sacrifice, who understood familial duty, who understood appearances and constraints and societal norms. shakespeare wrote girls that chose themselves, even if those choices are not immediately obvious to a (largely biased) (largely male) audience.

however, shakespeare also wrote women.

let’s talk about those women. they were not better than the girls – there was strife and conflict between them, yes, but girls were not pitted against women in a competition of which is better and which should you be and which is more deserving of a happy ending.

(if there was that, we will choose to ignore it. we will interpret it differently. we recognize more than one type of strength. we acknowledge the importance of weakness. we understand that sometimes you must let her simply be.)

shakespeare’s women had power. they had plot lines of their own, jealously guarded and carefully hidden and often overlooked. these women understood how to make men weak. girls know how to be underestimated. these women grew up and learned how to use this against those that dare forget that they deserve a narrative. these women fight back. these women blaze.

let’s talk about gertrude. gertrude, whose motives are left entirely unexplored, whose sexuality permeates every part of her character, who is told that this sexuality makes her weak and corrupt and shameful. gertrude, whose shoulders remain high and back, whose sharp eyes gleam beneath a crown well won, who can bind men to her with glistening lips or jeweled words or slanted glances. even her son is affected. was gertrude responsible for claudius’ death? gertrude, who has carved out a place for herself, who has ensured her own security, who has a multitude of actions and allies and alibis prearranged and ready for instant use, who remains shrouded in mystery perhaps precisely because she means to be.

hamlet obsesses over her, despises her, lusts after her – and yet manages to overlook her. let’s talk about a gertrude who could have committed murder not once but twice, who might have disposed neatly of ophelia, who maybe cleared the way for her son. let’s talk about a gertrude whose machinations never saw the light of day. let’s talk about a gertrude whose power was magnified because it was never acknowledged, whose strength was quiet and enduring and carefully planned. let’s talk about a gertrude who refused to let oppositions to her sexuality limit her. let’s talk about a gertrude who owned herself, who possessed herself, who loved herself. (did she love herself?)

shakespeare has few women in his stories, but some are more prevalent than others.

let us turn our attention to lady macbeth. she is not so easy to dismiss. she is not so easy to forget. her schemes are not so easily hidden. lady macbeth, who is never given a first name but rather always referred to as the female partner to her husband. (lady macbeth, i wager, would not be overly upset about this). let’s talk about how lady macbeth coolly plots the murder of a king, who secures her own power by bolstering her husband’s courage, who uses words to twist and enchant and distort, who understands the power of a weapon that fires where pointed. lady macbeth understands that somebody must dirty her hands. let’s talk about how lady macbeth is then rarely mentioned, how her violence is at the forefront of the play but her remorse consumes her in the wings of the stage while her husband’s deterioration is the focus. let’s talk about her strength. let’s talk about her determination. let’s talk about her vulnerabilities, about lady macbeth wandering the hallways with bare feet against chilled stone, who only can be truthful to herself in her sleep, whose hands chafe with guilt. out, out – was lady macbeth speaking of the blood, or of her remorse? lady macbeth models herself after stone, but even stone can crack with time. lady macbeth, who rejects femininity because she rejects weakness, who would rather bash a baby’s head against her breast and stem the blood that runs through her veins than be reduced to a parenthesis, a caretaker, a mother. lady macbeth has no time for remorse. lady macbeth does not want to be lessened. lady macbeth wants to be more.

let's talk about these girls and these women and the narratives that consume them, because if we don't, who will share their stories? (who will tell ours?)

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chandramurty · 3 years

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Nature's Spring Cleaning

History has shown us that the Mother Nature undertakes periodical spring cleaning to make adjustments in the unlimited population growth and indiscriminate harvesting of the natural resources. Process of natural selection operating in the nature weeds out the unfit from the society. We are lucky that we are witness to this spring cleaning of the Mother Nature. We have been given a second chance to mend our ways and do a course correction. The period of lockdown can be used to meditate and realign our priorities with that of the society. Let us go back to the wisdom of the scriptures and rid ourselves of the negatives which we have imbibed over the generations. Indiscriminate yielding to the sensual pleasures have brought us to this pass,making us vulnerable physically,mentally and spiritually. Our indifference to the well being of our fellow citizens have made this disease a pandemic. We give a damn to the societal norms and run a mad race to obtain the prized goals, everyone to himself and the devil may take the hind most. Our repeated disregard of the teachings and collective wisdom of the scriptures,has taken away our purity and distanced us from the nature. We should understand the meaning of the adage from different religions like..

'Blessed are the meek for they shall inherit the earth..'

'राज करेगा खालसा..'

'तेन त्येक्तेन भुंजीता..'

We have to go beyond their literal meanings and imbibe the underlying to our life style to make us one with the nature and make the world a better place to live.

ऊँ सर्वे भवन्तु सुखिनः सर्वे सन्तु निरामयाः ।सर्वे भद्राणि पश्यन्तु मा कश्चिद्दुःखभाग्भवेत् ..

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ravioliwings · 4 years

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really tired of the posts where people excuse mothers’ shitty behavior towards their children because “well they are actually mad at the patriarchy, therefore its ok for them to take it out on you :)”

like i understand the societal pressure for women to get married to men and have children and the expectation that a woman should willingly sacrifice herself for that lifestyle, but also like, there is always the choice to just.... not do that

sure it’s more difficult for cishet women to disregard social norms, but like if you don’t want to become reduced to just a mother, then dont. dont have kids.

and if you still want kids, but understandably dont want to be reduced to just a mother, then by all means have them, but DONT take your frustrations out on your children. your children didnt force you to become a parent, your children didnt ask you to make whatever sacrifices you thought you needed to make. and when you get angry at them and justify it by saying “i am your mother,” you are only reducing yourself to that mother role.

it’s like i see it so often where grown women are begrudgingly settling down with a man who is just “ok” to them (this typically implies non-abusive, sometimes will do dishes, sometimes will clean, etc.) just because the social norm is to be settled down and have kids by the time youre 30. when they could completely just not do that if they dont want to. but it’s like they dont understand that there is nobody holding a gun to their head demanding they keep up this appearance.

like yes women are victims of the patriarchy, but it’s not like they dont have free will. you can explain their actions by talking about how society heavily influences people to follow these paths, but it doesn’t completely excuse the behavior. people need to take the shackles off of their minds and think for themselves.

#sorry im just so tired of so many people trying to justify abusive mothers

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itsjesseich · 4 years

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The True Value of Joker

In the major motion picture of Joker, the main character Arthur Fleck is a struggling mentally ill man just trying to make it in 1970-80's Gotham in New York City. Arthur wears two masks -- the one he paints for his day job as a clown, and the persona he projects in a futile attempt to feel like he's part of the world around him. Isolated, bullied and disregarded by society, Fleck begins a slow descent into madness as he transforms into the criminal mastermind known as the Joker. Joaquin Phoenix is the main actor in the film and has since gained tremendous recognition for his performance in the Joker also earning him an Oscar. The movie incorporates controversial mental illness, societal problems, development of character, and issues that face people, who are different than you in everyday life. Overall Joker is a film that opens the world's eyes to a new topic that has not necessarily been shown before and illustrates how many different factors may play a role in one’s thoughts and actions. The use of performance, cinematography, and ideas away from the norm develop the true value of Joker.

The opening scene gives you an unsettling tone that only grows throughout the film. Arthur is depicted in front of a mirror partially crying as he finishes painting on his clown makeup while smoking a burning cigarette as the silence of the room is broken by the news playing in the background. Many others are present in the room, but Arthur sits alone at his vanity trying to “keep a happy face” as his mother had always told him. As a blue tear drop of paint flows down his cheek, he hooks both sides of his mouth and forces himself to smile. That continuous uneasy feeling of the movie keeps us hooked “even though Joker and Gotham city is fictional, the theories employed to interpret reality in this setting can be taken as a mirror of the world”.(Sreelakshmi, 2020). The director Todd Phillips aligned the Joker with the stereotype of the mentally ill, socially isolated loner whose disenfranchisement leads him to commit violence.

A good performance from the actor is crucial, as the most we see from them is their characters interactions and reactions. If those aspects are not believable or don’t feel real enough to the audience then the message is not going to be delivered successfully. ‘Successful’ films need to have impactful deliveries because they all convey the same medium. For your movie to stand out you need to have someone outshine the competition. Many actors are very accredited and well known, so how can you continue to stand out? You must switch up the take and shy away from what’s trending. That is why Joker is so controversial. The message within this movie and how Phoenix delivered it alone adds tremendous value to the film. It is such a different story then what everyone was expecting. He spent a considerable amount of time doing research himself to better understand and convey his role. By reading the script through a mental trauma lens allowed Phoenix to provide empathy that eventually helped him better understand the life of Arthur Fleck. Joaquin’s drive for understanding every aspect of his performance gives directors options not many films can capture like this which increases the film’s specialty.

Cinematography is simply the making of motion pictures and Joker’s cinematographer, Lawrence Sher, used complimentary colors, camera movement, and different camera lenses and angles to contribute to a successful film. Color can be very simple to use, but also can be as complicated as you want it to be. The color in films is used to create contrast, depth, separation, and mood. This was achieved with the use of complimentary colors. You can see the juxtaposition with Joker’s green hair and contrasting red suit. Camera movement and camera angles were used to make connections and draw attention to the audience.

The big topic that is surrounding Joker would have to be the director's controversial take on Fleck’s backstory and portrayal of mental illness. Mental illness is not normally the starring spotlight on a big film or show. The film gives a voice to the suppressed and oppressed which is not normal. Many films focus on the hero and how to fix everything but this movie’s focus on the events that lead to spiraling chaos. John Goodwin and Izzat Tajjudin (2020) argue that Joker depicts stigmatizing representations of people with mental ill-health. However, opening our eyes to this type of interaction from a closed space makes you look at the situation differently, which allows you to take a step back and self-reflect on the way you view and treat others. Even though there are negatives about the topic we can turn it into a positive. Pertaining to Fleck’s backstory many people just expected the movie to be way different than what it was. People's general curiosity draws them into the story. The general reaction to the movie was different, unexpected, and darker. The idea of not being what you would expect is what makes it so intriguing.

“You have to make movies aware of your audience but not for your audience” (Sher, 2020).

I would recommend this movie to anyone that is looking for something different and not so typical of a villain - superhero movie. Although reactions surrounding the film are controversial, keep in mind that everyone is different and holds different opinions and values. It is worth the watch to evaluate your own opinion. I find the movie to be insightful, powerful, captivating, and knowledgeable. After watching the film, it took me a day or two to truly digest and reflect. The film wasn’t meant to have a specific message, but it is meant for you to feel how you wish and think.

Overall surrounding Joker is a lot of controversy and praise. Aspects of cinematography, Joaquin Phoenix’s performance, and visual representations of mental health unprecedentedly make this film very successful. Expect the unexpected and get comfortable with the uncomfortable. How does the movie make you feel?

References:

American Cinematographer. (2019, December 19). The making of Joker with cinematographer Lawernce Sher, ASC. [Video]. Youtube

Goodwin, J.,& Tajjudin, I (2016). “What do you think I am? Crazy?”: the Joker and stigmatizing representations of mental ill-health. Journal of Popular Culture. 49(2) 385-402.

Sreelakshmi, M.(2020). Reclamation of history: a tryst with subaltern studies, marxist criticism and chaos theory in the movie Joker. Our Heritage. 68(1). 9083-9091.

#joker joaquinphoenix film 2019

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cummunication · 5 years

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What is “Rape Culture?”

You’ve probably heard of the term “rape culture” or have seen it used on social media. Particularly prevalent with the “me too” movement, “rape culture” was especially brought into the light around 2016 when the Netflix documentary “The Hunting Ground” made its appearance. So what exactly is rape culture and why should you care? “Rape Culture is an environment in which rape is prevalent and in which sexual violence against women is normalized and excused in the media and popular culture. Rape culture is perpetuated through the use of misogynistic language, the objectification of women’s bodies, and the glamorization of sexual violence, thereby creating a society that disregards women’s rights and safety. Rape Culture affects every woman. The rape of one woman is a degradation, terror, and limitation to all women. Most women and girls limit their behavior because of the existence of rape. Most women and girls live in fear of rape. Men, in general, do not. That’s how rape functions as a powerful means by which the whole female population is held in a subordinate position to the whole male population, even though many men don’t rape, and many women are never victims of rape. This cycle of fear is the legacy of Rape Culture.” I’ve heard the term used in both a positive and negative light however; some feminists fight against the use of the term and do not appreciate what they deem it being “improperly used”. Unfortunately nowadays, it appears sexual assault is more of a norm rather than out of the ordinary. “Is 1 in 5 American women surviving rape or attempted rape considered a cultural norm? Is 1 in 6 men being abused before the age of 18 a cultural norm? These statistics are not just shocking, they represent real people. Yet, these millions of survivors and allies don’t raise their collective voices to educate America about our culture of rape because of fear. Rape culture is a real and serious, and we need to talk about it. Simply put, feminists want equality for everyone and that begins with physical safety.” From the outside looking in, this can seem it were solely a “women's issue”. I’d like to argue it is a global issue. Neither geared at men nor women as both are impacted by this epidemic and hold power & responsibility in sharing our stories. The job of advocating for both victims and survivors of sexual assault need not fall on the shoulders of women but we also shouldn’t blame men. It’s more about educating individuals and providing those impacted with the proper resources and support. It’s about letting people know how their choices affect others and what everybody can do to play their part (a.k.a bystander prevention). `.If you are a man, you are part of rape culture. I know … that sounds rough. You’re not a rapist, necessarily. But you do perpetuate the attitudes and behaviors commonly referred to as rape culture. But just imagine moving through the world, always afraid you could be raped. That’s even worse! Rape culture sucks for everyone involved. But don’t get hung up on the terminology. Don’t concentrate on the words that offend you and ignore what they’re pointing to — the words “rape culture” aren’t the problem. The reality they describe is the problem. Men are the primary agents and sustainers of rape culture. Rape isn’t exclusively committed by men. Women aren’t the only victims — men rape men, women rape men — but what makes rape a men’s problem, our problem, is the fact that men commit 99% of reported rapes. Women spend most of their social lives with ever-present, unavoidable feelings of vulnerability. Stop and think about that. Imagine always feeling like you could be at risk, like you were living with glass skin. As modern men we must seek out danger. We choose adventures and extreme sports in order to feel like we’re in jeopardy. We make games of our vulnerability. That’s how differently men see the world from women. A woman must consider where she is going, what time of day it is, what time she will arrive at her destination and what time she will leave her destination, what day of the week is it, if she will be left alone at any point … the considerations go on and on because they are far more numerous than you or I can imagine. Honestly, I can’t conceive of having to think that much about what I need to do to protect myself at any given moment in my life. I relish the freedom of getting up and going, day or night, rain or shine, Westside or downtown. As men we can enjoy this particular extreme luxury of movement and freedom of choice. In order to understand rape culture, remember this is a freedom that at least half the population doesn’t enjoy. You may think it’s unfair that we have to counteract and adjust ourselves for the ill behavior of other men. You know what? You’re right. It is unfair. Is that the fault of women? Or is it the fault of the men who act abysmally and make the rest of us look bad? If issues of fairness bother you, get mad at the men who make you and your actions appear questionable. Because when it comes to assessing a man, whatever one man is capable of, a woman must presume you are capable of. The completely reasonable and understandable fear of men is your responsibility. You didn’t create it. But you also didn’t build the freeways either. Some of the things you inherit from society are cool and some of them are rape culture. Since no woman can accurately judge you or your intentions on sight, you are assumed to be like all other men. 73% of the time a woman knows her rapist. Now, if she can’t trust and accurately assess the intentions of men she knows, how can you expect her to ever feel that she can accurately assess you, a complete stranger? Rape prevention is not just about women teaching women how not to get raped — it’s about men not committing rape. Rape prevention is about the fact that a man must understand that saying “no” doesn’t mean “yes,” that when a woman is too drunk/drugged to respond that doesn’t mean “yes,” that being in a relationship doesn’t mean “yes.” Rather than focus on how women can avoid rape, or how rape culture makes an innocent man feel suspect, our focus should be: how do we, as men, stop rapes from occurring? You’ll quickly find that rape culture plays a central role in all the social dynamics of our time. It’s at the heart of all our personal interactions. It’s part of all our social, societal and environmental struggles. Rape culture is not just about sex. It is the product of a generalized attitude of male supremacy. Sexual violence is one expression of that attitude. Again, don’t let the terminology spook you. Don’t get hung up on the term “male supremacy.” The term isn’t the problem. The problem is that rape culture hurts everyone involved. Antiquated patriarchal notions of society make it difficult for men to come forward as rape victims just as much as they foster a desire for a man to be seen as powerful and sexually aggressive. Men shouldn’t feel threatened or attacked when women point out rape culture — they’re telling us about our common enemy. We ought to listen. Now that you know what it is, what can you do about rape culture? · Avoid using language that objectifies or degrades women. Speak out if you hear someone else making an offensive joke or trivializing rape · If a friend says she has been raped, take her seriously and be supportive · Think critically about the media’s messages about women, men, relationships, and violence · Be respectful of others’ physical space even in casual situations · Always communicate with sexual partners and do not assume consent · Define your own manhood or womanhood. Do not let stereotypes shape your actions. Don’t limit yourself to being a man. Be a mensch. Be a human being. All we need to do is listen, and reflect, and let their words change our perspective. Our job is to ask ourselves how we can do better.”

#metoo #me too movement #me too campaign #sexualabuse #rapeculture #feminist #feminism #sexualssault

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pacack · 5 years

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Smash Bros. and Politics

So, I was seeing an argument on twitter that claimed that games have become steeped in politics to the detriment of consumers.

I thought to myself, “Alright, I know a game that spans game history from 1980 to now that we can look at to determine whether games have really gotten more political with time.”

Spoiler: Only 9.375% of the franchises represented by characters in Smash Bros. avoid political themes. Games are intensely political and always have been.

Actual spoiler warning: This includes spoilers for the general plot and themes of basically every game franchise included in Smash Bros.

Trigger warning: The following essay contains references to violence, death, war, emotional abuse, racism, racial and cultural stereotyping, sexism, minority oppression, poverty, gangs, animal cruelty, religious hypocrisy, pollution, and climate change.

Mario: Traditionally avoids complex plotlines entirely (though some games break that tradition,) but even the most barebones plots have “ruler who thirsts for power is a bad person, while ruler who does not is a good person.”

Donkey Kong: The themes are all blatantly environmental. The main characters are heavily intertwined with nature, while the big bad steals natural resources, uses technology that pollutes and disturbs the local area, and evolves over time from a corrupt monarch to a gun-touting pirate to a mad scientist. The evolution of the villain’s technology in the first trilogy is sending the message that oppression evolves over time to become more sophisticated.

Zelda: Varies from game to game but ranges from “bad guy literally is transformed into a pig because he desires power” to “crisis brings grief and makes us contemplate our morality, but that should make us value the connections we have more.”

Metroid: Game revolves around a skilled and wholly independent soldier/mercenary/bounty hunter that happens to be a woman. Laced with themes of “a person who is profoundly and intentionally alone does not need to be dependent on others to define herself” and “scientific progress that is intended for the betterment of mankind can and will be used to wage war by those who seek to do harm.”

Yoshi: “Communities should help and protect even complete strangers from those who would do them harm.”

Kirby: Themes range from “greed of a ruler leaves kingdom in poverty” to “people who band together in friendship can overthrow those who possess power.”

Star Fox: Tyrannical mad scientist plans to form an oppressive empire by using technology. Do I need to explain that?

Pokémon: Treat animals as partners and friends and marvel at the wonders of the natural world. Bad guys include:

an organization that abuses animals

an organization who aims to destroy the environment

an organization that doesn’t appreciate the current world and plans to reshape it into one where emotional attachment doesn’t exist

an organization that criticizes the current state of affairs in legitimate ways to hide their real intentions of stripping the common man from their power to resist their planned dictatorship

an organization that values beauty and power above all else (criticizing the French elite specifically)

A gang that recruits desperate people who feel they don’t have a family

A supposedly humanitarian organization that is headed by a possessive and emotionally abusive mother who is obsessed with owning things, people, and animals rather than loving them.

Earthbound/Mother: Discusses complex themes about love of family, pain of loss of and rejection from that family, the trauma one suffers because of that pain, and the importance of people learning form that pain rather than using it as justification for hurting others.

F-Zero: People meet one-another and trade, develop new social ties, have intellectual exchanges, and share technology, but some begin to abuse the framework of the system that brought everyone together to make themselves lavishly wealthy. These elites then develop dangerous sports for their own entertainment that the common man is enticed to compete in to improve their societal standing.

Ice Climber: Two characters that are coded as Inuit-Yupik enjoy themselves by cooperating and competing with one another in nature. While simple, the theme of connection between people over a shared activity can’t be recognized as completely apolitical when they’re in a minority group.

Fire Emblem: A just ruler is forced into conflict with a neighboring despotic country and must balance their duty to defend their people with their understanding that it is the innocent common folk of the other country that will suffer in place of the unjust rulers who began the conflicts. The game centers around meeting new people, many of them from the other side, who themselves are multi-layered and kind, but who live difficult lives. The unjust rulers are defeated, but a greater threat then brings all the people together, despite their differences, for the common good.

Game and Watch: Man juggles, cooks, and plays games with his friends :)

Kid Icarus: An angel who has a disability that prevents him from flying must save the world when circumstances leave him as the only person capable of resisting. He succeeds and is recognized by being promoted captain of the guard for his ability, courage, and tenacity. From that point on, the support of others allows him to live his life without his mobility defining what he can and cannot do.

WarioWare: The main character (who was conceptualized because artists’ freedom to create was limited by corporate greed and its insistence on maintaining the status quo) is a greedy man who plans on creating a poor, easily made product to sell to people as a get-rich-quick scheme with complete disregard for artistic integrity.

Metal Gear: The entire series began as a political commentary on the manipulation of soldiers by politicians in the Cold War. The series delves deeply into the morality of war and the negative impact that it has on a person, as well as discussing peace, revenge, racial violence, genetic engineering, censorship, societal loss of a person’s knowledge when they die, misrepresentation of history, and generational knowledge and bias. The main character, Solid Snake, is a critical analysis of the action hero trope, and the deconstruction of his character archetype reveals his increasingly broken spirit as he comes to see his life as unavoidably entwined with conflicts and war.

Sonic: Evil scientist destroys and pollutes the environment and abuses animals in his scheme to gain power, leading to the animals themselves revolting and overthrowing him for his actions.

Pikmin: A middle-class working man who cares only about supporting his family is made to work in dangerous conditions and suffers hardships because of his company’s desire to maximize profits.

Animal Crossing: A kind community of people welcomes a stranger and helps them to build a new life with them, teaching them how to survive and thrive on their own.

Mega Man: Society has advanced to the point that robots are used in day to day jobs, and an ambitious scientist hacks into them and uses the technology to throw society into disarray, with hopes of establishing a dictatorship.

Wii Fit: Fitness trainer teaches you how to exercise and become healthier :)

Punch-Out: A poor kid from the Bronx has dreams of becoming a star athlete, and his trainer, a kind, retired black boxer, trains and inspires him to achieve his dreams of having a better life. The international opponents in the game embody both harmless and harmful societal stereotypes of their cultures. The more ridiculous the stereotypes surrounding the group, the more ridiculous the opponent becomes. Ultimately the protagonist, a multiracial kid from one of the most diverse cities in the world, achieves his dreams and is respected globally for his skill and perseverance, reflecting the ideal of cultural harmony.

Mii: Customizable avatar characters play games :)

Pac-Man: Happy man eats food as cute monsters chase him around a maze :)…in a dramatic departure from the norms of the time in the industry, making the uncommon move of advertising to women by using cute, whimsical designs and appealing to and encouraging everyone’s common experience of eating. Avoided common themes of the time like violent space shooters, racing games, and sports titles, which were meant to appeal to young men.

Xenoblade: The plot revolves around predicting where the path you’re on leads you in the future and emphasizes heavily that there is nothing in life that decides your fate for you. Aims to explain that, while hardships in life can lead you to do the wrong thing, you always have the power to change that which seems destined in your life. It condemns those who use the hardships they’ve experienced to excuse wrongdoing and explains that a person has the power to learn and grow from those hardships instead.

Duck Hunt: You’re a duck hunter shooting down ducks with your trusty companion dog :)

Street Fighter: The continuity is a mess, but basically it boils down to an evil man being defeated by the honorable and pure philosophy of the protagonist. It involves different spiritualities that are a part of different martial arts and I’m not going to pretend to be qualified to talk about the cultural implications of them, but it generally discusses the morality of violence.

Final Fantasy VII: A soldier who lost his best friend in a battle long ago joins an ecoterrorist rebellion against a corporation that is draining the life force from the planet at the expense of energy. If I have to spell out the environmental themes there any more clearly you’re a moron.

Bayonetta: Sexual witch with guns sold her soul to demons and literally makes a living killing angels that are obsessed with the impending resurrection of God, the creation of a new world, and the destruction of the current one. Heavily inspired by and critical of Christianity, with the angels being named after virtues that they lack. The five main bosses in the game are the four Cardinal Virtues of Catholicism – Courage, Temperance, Justice, and Prudence – and the final boss is God herself, a self-centered and spoiled character that demands adoration from all. Contrasts the hypocritical, power-hungry, and overzealous forces of religion with the Bayonetta’s honest and unapologetic appreciation for worldly pleasures, her confidence in her autonomy, and her quest to understand her individuality.

Splatoon: Squid kids play paintball :)…except it’s actually a post-apocalyptic world where humanity died off due to climate change and cephalopods became the dominant intelligent life on Earth.

Castlevania: Heavy religious themes debating the worth of humanity as a man treks through a haunted castle to fight Dracula, a vampiric demon who keeps reincarnating and who occasionally quotes the Bible verbatim. Most games in the series center around the theme that, even though human life is fleeting, it is precious.

Persona: High school student goes into alternate world where his darkest subconscious thoughts manifest into a “persona” tied to him. Debates philosophical topics very, very heavily and questions the meaning of identity.

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comm229 · 2 years

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Gender in Relation to a Cultural Artifact: Folklore

For my third blog entry, I will be examining Taylor Swift’s album, Folklore and its relation to gender as well as gendered messages embedded within the work. As I’ve explained in detail in my previous blog posts, Taylor Swift first released this album in July of 2020, close to the beginning of the Covid-19 Pandemic. She has been quoted as to saying that if it hadn’t been for the strict lockdown and isolation restrictions, Folklore may have never made it into existence. For this specific entry, I will narrow my focus to a specific track off of the album and its gendered messages, as well as the album’s relation to gender stereotypes in a broader sense.

The main track I will focus on is track 12, titled “mad woman”. The lyric video can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6DP4q_1EgQQ. The premise of this song stems from a female perspective dealing with backlash and criticism, and it can be assumed that this is in the context of being seen by the public eye. One lyric from this song that sticks out to me specifically is when Swift sings, “Every time you call me crazy, I get more crazy, what about that? And when you say I seem angry, I get more angry. And there’s nothing like a mad woman”. This line calls into question the reality of being a powerful feminine influence in today’s society. Reaching further into this idea, the line continues “No one likes a mad woman… You made her like that”. As could be assumed, it is clear that Taylor Swift has used creative influences and has written this song about her personal experiences as a leading female voice in the music industry. In this song, Taylor Swift calls attention to the increasingly common act of simply writing someone’s feelings off as “crazy”, as well as completely disregarding them and attempting to downplay their importance when they differ from societal norms. These lyrics demonstrate how women are made to feel as if they are overreacting and made to feel shamed for drawing attention to something that has upset them.

In this article, https://ew.com/music/taylor-swift-mad-woman/, written by Lauren Huff for Entertainment Weekly, she references the themes of gaslighting and emotional manipulation that Swift has spoken publicly about. A large part of the message here is that rather than having her feelings be taken seriously by the people around her, she is reduced to the title of a “Mad Woman”, who should have no real reason to be acting the way she is. This is not the first time Taylor Swift has been known to sing about and publicly discuss gender-related issues. In previous works, such as in her seventh studio album, Lover, she has also called attention to gender-based stereotypes as well as inequalities in today’s society. It is clear that a lot of what Swift has been focusing her energy into recently has a bigger relation to societal inequalities and issues, as well as gender based differences that have long been swept under the rug.

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victoriaannboys-blog · 5 years

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Figure 1 showing the Morning Post headline on the 5th June 1913 (Source: Another Nickel In The Machine, 2009: online) heavily reflects attitudes of the time toward women. First of all, the tabloid uses the word ‘mad’ in the headline making it prominent, specifically selected as a consequence of Davison’s failure to conform with societal norms. She is stigmatised as unstable in order to discredit both her and the justifications for her actions. Another reason as to why this is used is to isolate the incident from ‘normal’ women’s behaviour. Davison’s inability to conform with society’s expectations insinuates that there must be something mentally wrong with her as “everyone else is able to conduct themselves appropriately” (Payne, 2013:37). The newspaper distances society from Davison’s undesirable actions through “labelling and out-casting” (Hutton, 2010:11). The way Davison is portrayed supports the ‘mad cow’ narrative that Jewkes (2015) has presented. However, Jewkes notes that these narratives exist and are used but fails to explain why this is the case. Thornham (2007) proposes that the media are controlling women’s decisions and acts by ridiculing or vilifying ‘wrong’ behaviour. He asserts that the media is forcing women to conform to these societal ideals through fear of being singled out, in order to maintain society’s structures by manipulating behaviour so that power and hierarchy remains the same.

Figure 1 also helps identify gender disparity during the era of the Suffragettes, because the articles that covered this tragic event were all written by men; except Figure 2 which presents the newspaper written by the Suffragettes on the 15th June 1913 (Source: Simkin, 1997: online). As such, men’s beliefs and opinions dominated and influenced the general public. This was extremely different to the Suffragette newspaper which was overshadowed and ignored as it presented a ‘controversial’ narrative of the event and a minority publication. Figure 1 is a primary source written by a male demonstrating the approach used in order to impose their views upon women. Newspapers have often been used as a form of propaganda by powerful males to mould women’s behaviour (Sacco, 1995). However, there are issues regarding reliability of newspaper sources, as events are exaggerated to seek attention and increase circulation. Also, the writer generally selects interesting stories that the readers want to see and often agree with. This article is also limited as it only publishes stories of white women, it fails to provide a pattern or insight into the perspectives regarding gender intersectionality such as: class, race or sexuality.

Newspapers, the main source of media at the time, suppress women into the aforementioned ‘roles’ to maintain social hierarchy and structure where men are in a position of power and wish to maintain such standing. At the time of the Suffragette movement all high-ranking positions; Parliament, Judiciary and even the Monarchy were occupied by men. Further down Figure 1 it states that: “The King made immediate inquiries regarding his jockey”. This quote is extremely significant as it illustrates men’s perceptions of women. The King made no reference to the woman involved showing his total disregard for the ‘inferior’ sex. His attitude suggests that women do not concern him and can be replaced. The monarchy is held in high esteem by society, and therefore, the King’s thoughts and feelings toward women echo the general consensus. These preconceived notions and biases towards women are translated into the Criminal Justice System, primarily through Judges who act upon these concepts and stereotypes of women when making decisions regarding punishment. These beliefs are illustrated through harsh punishment of women who deviate from their expected ‘roles’. For example, if Davison lived, many alleged that she would have been charged with endangering life and incurred the maximum penalty. The Criminal Justice System at this time was enduring a power struggle dynamic as they punished women fighting for equality. Roles in the system were enforced by men who did not wish to relinquish this power and used legislation to continue the suppression of women toward maintaining social order.

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enchantedzuyorker · 4 years

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A Prison Break

The way that I see it, industrial society is a multi-dimensional prison facility that stratifies its population according to the value of one’s productive output. Those who contribute the most toward reproducing and maintaining this prison are rewarded with social recognition and greater access to survival resources. And those who contribute the least are ridiculed, shamed and left to die off. The overall collectivism created through mass participation normalizes this binary way of life, generating a social pressure that drives assimilation and discourages insubordination. In order to function, industrial society normalizes wage-enslavement through learned inferiority. As people grow to internalize this sense of inferiority, they become dependent on industrial society and its symbolic representation of order. As people accept themselves individually as weak and powerless, societal prison fulfills a sense of group power and belonging.

I view industrial society as a prison because like all prisons, its function is to subordinate through containment. But the construction of this prison requires individuals not only to surrender themselves to a collectivist vision of law and order, but also to a unifying acceptance of separation: One’s alienation from nature creates a fear remedied by a sense of safety found in order, predictability, and structure. From this point of view institutionalization can be seen as the result of one fearing their own wild potential beyond the walls of civilized captivity. On an individual level, the thought-crime of feral insubordination is contained with suppression that is conditioned with years of behavioral civilizing (for example the educational industrial complex and its deeply traumatic process of assimilating children into civilized society). In mass society, the individual self ceases to be unique as it becomes controlled, homogenized, and assimilated into the collectivist mentality of social membership. The physical body of an individual becomes merely a unit of productivity that is valued based on its material contribution to industrial society.

Individuality is redefined by society and suppressed by assigned social constructs that categorically position it within the broader collectivist system. These socially constructed identities become representative of the Self as merely a member of fixed class, race, and gendered identity categories. At this point in the civilizing process, individuality is exchangable with identity, losing all of its color and freedom as a unique animal being. In the societal prison the individual animal is transformed into an inmate collectively known as a “citizen”. Now, as a member of this prison society, every citizen has an obligation to contribute their mind and body toward its reproduction and maintenance. It is reproduced on an individual level through morals, standardized behavioral norms, cultures, and traditions. For those who refuse this obligation (or for any number of reasons are unable to fulfill it), they are condemned to the punishment of poverty.

What I hear often from leftists is the use of the word “lifestylist” as a way to describe what they consider an undesirable form of anarchy. When I first started reading post-left anarchist writings, I was inspired by the courageous adventures of self-exploration beyond categorical definition. I enjoyed the writings of those who embraced anarchy as life - nihilistic and wild against the social forces of civilized domestication. So it struck me as odd that some self-identifying anarchists took issue with this way of thinking and acting – going so far as to use “lifestyle anarchist” as an insult. So I ask those individuals: What is the difference between social anarchism and the monotony of workplace wage-slavery? Year after year there are anarchist holidays, noise demonstrations, potlucks, commune gatherings and so on – all of which to this day have not led “the masses” any closer to any sustainable uprising. In a way, workplace wage-slavery has more effect on “the masses” than any radical organizing: workplace wage-slavery further expands capitalism worldwide, while radical organizing has only led to (at most) small waves of revolt that ultimately are managed and suppressed by the state. So where does the individual fit into all this? Is there a pull from two opposing directions that share the commonality of attempting to transform the individual?

I have had experience with both wage-slavery and radical organizing. And both ended with the same conclusion: unfulfillment. Both choices required the surrendering of my mind and body to maintain their functioning, which inevitably led to monotonous repetition. Both choices share a circular logic: participation, no matter how difficult, driven by the hope that one day things will be better. So rather than seeking another chamber of society to identify with and occupy, I am seeking emancipation - a prison break not only from the captivity of death-driven wage-slavery, but also from the mental workerism that conceals itself behind the banner of radical organizing. So what is one to do if they are neither occupying their mind with wage- slavery nor burning out with radical organizing? Is society, the prison encompassing these two life choices, worthy of critique? A prison can materialize externally and internally. The most successful external prison is one that finds its reflection within those it holds captive. Those held captive reinforce that prison by internalizing the “citizen” collectivist identity. If we are not free individuals who roam, dance, and explore the wild beyond the walls of industrial captivity, then what are we?

We are inmates of society identified by social security numbers and birth-dates. We are subjected to these domesticating walls of confinement which institutionalize us, and in exchange we’re offered materialism to fill the void where chaos once connected us to life at birth. If one understands their enslavement to society thoroughly, they reach the logical conclusion that the lives we claim to own ultimately belong to those who utilize them the most. This is why I personally hate work and find no affinity with any ideology that glorifies workerist identity. “Full-time” employment means average 40 hours a week in which an individual’s mind and body are owned in exchange for monetary access to mind-numbing materialism or survival necessities. Without getting into the details of wage- slavery in exchange for only a portion of what the product of one’s labor is actually worth, we are talking about hours of one’s life lost forever. Similar to a prison, society owns its inmate citizens by purchasing their slavery at minimal pay rates. Like a prison, society functions and flourishes with a massified labor force that collectively surrenders livelihood to the norm of law and order.

But what about the individualist who refuses participation? And perhaps not only refuses participation but also sabotages?

From my own perspective, the lifestylist prefers rebellion now rather than waiting for “the masses” - expropriating life, resources, and time for hedonistic adventure. And the lifestylist is not a specialist in anarchy: Any single individual subjugated by society is capable of individualist insubordination. There are grocery stores of food, wild food to be foraged, the moon and stars to act as cover for black clad cells of earth and animal liberationists. There is plenty of logging equipment to be sabotaged, storefronts to be smashed. There are howls of feral revolt to be shared across the globe between those who are determined to enjoy their lives against the dominion of misery.

The first thing people ask me is “What do you do for a living?”. And my answer is supposed to include some form of wage-slavery that financially supports my living. When I was an activist people used to ask me how much I got paid doing it. I laughed every time and to my disbelief, eventually realized that activism too has a lucrative place under capitalism. I am used to tabling free zines and posting all my writing on The Anarchist Library (and where and who ever else tolerates my ramblings). But some people go around giving lectures and speeches at colleges gettin’ mad cash. I prefer makin’ cash illegally- not by attempting to commodify rebellion any further than it already has been. So my answer to what I do for a living is usually “Anarchy”; I live and survive this way, as free as I can be, with no intentions on returning to wage-slavery or radical organizing.

Another critique of life as anarchy that I have grown tired of hearing is the myth that train-hopping, illegally expropriating food and resources and other individualist forms of rebellion are a “white” activity that also undermines the working class. This critique often comes from an identity-based assumption that the “working class” and POC are a monolithic mass incapable of materializing liberation on an individual level. Leftism leads one to believe that the population, in particular POC, needs to be led to revolution through rigorous education by radical leadership. Not only is this mentality condescending, it relies heavily on the assumption that all POC and or workers think alike and share the same political interest. Is this perhaps the reason why despite years and years of radical organizing and propagating “the revolution”, Illuminist capitalism still has a powerful workforce, further expanding this nightmarish technological industrial complex?

So I ask those who accuse the individualist of disregarding the workers: How many times do you spend time, money, and energy attempting the same thing, under the same assumptions, yet expecting different results? Do you honestly blame the lifestylists for refusing to surrender their lives to the draining repetition of either wage-slavery or organizing? When anarchy is limited to and defined by a duty to educate and organize others, it has already become domesticated. Does it not count as a racist blanket statement to assume only “white” people are capable of creating activities that are based on individualist empowerment?

I once heard someone say that lifestyle anarchists are privileged. I thought about it for a while. I tried to understand how taking the courageous initiative to reclaim one’s life was a privilege. I couldn’t help but feel that such an accusation comes from a place of internalized defeat; a defeat so powerful that one can only perceive individual emancipation as an unattainable luxury. Similar to the identity prisons of race and gender, this mentality encourages one to view their self as an eternally disempowered victim of society. Rather than seeing one’s self as the ultimate creator of freedom, one views their self only in terms of mental prisons.

I have watched over the years as anarchism has become a platform for internalizing and glorifying victimhood. I have critiqued this in previous writing, but the relevance here is that there is this subtle message in anarchism that says “if you are not a victim, you must be privileged. And if you are privileged, you should feel guilty about improving the quality of your life. If we suffer, YOU should suffer too.”. I believe it is this type of subtle message, circulated in radical spaces, that is responsible for the trend that labels individualist thought “privileged”, and encourages the abandonment of any ideas that challenge the internalized prison of morality.

For me, anarchy as wildness is a bomb that never stops exploding. It is the pesticide-resistant weed that cracks the foundation of industrial society and organizational conformity. Anarchy is the abomination of formally organized structures. It finds its reflection in the hedonism of the brave, ungovernable individual who rebels today with no expectation of a tomorrow. There are no social constructs – race, gender, or whatever – that can truely represent those who refuse the definitions, roles, and limitations imposed by society. Feral individualism is the lunatic enemy combatant of society, setting fire to the social contract of mental subordination. Within this societal prison race, gender, and other socially constructed identities are like numbers branded onto bodies, grouping people according to some authoritarian vision. Identity politics reinforces the internalized prison that confines individual uniqueness, and projects the mind and body policing of others.

If freedom of individuality is only defined by an individual’s commitment to the group, then what makes the group any less governing than a state? If the anarchist critique of government is that it can never give one freedom, then why would one accept the governing of an identity, commune or society?

If there is any real possibility of the population rising up in any insurrectionary way, it will most likely come from an individual realization that being a wage-slave ultimately reinforces the walls of this prison we call “society”. And as long as individuals continue to identify themselves as its inferior citizen members, submission will be internally and externally normalized.

If the neatly faced aisles of grocery stores aren’t enough to make one question their role in adding bricks to the ever-expanding walls of this prison, how will best-seller-of-insurrection groups like The Invisible Committee appear any different? Anarchy as an anti-social, individualist way of life simply can’t be preached to “the masses” without being watered- down and losing its hostility to civilized order. Under capitalism, anarchism as a social movement has become collectivized into a hobby activity that co- exists with wage-slavery. New faces enter and quickly begin the work of organizing, only to burn out and retire down the line in a new era of presidency. Like a new warden, a new president takes over and dominates.

As winter nears I reflect on my past summer of fun activity. I realize for each season there is a variety of different opportunities for more. I realize that no matter where I travel and where I settle down for a bit, capitalism is all around me. There are many prisons to break out of and many ruptures to enjoy during this rewilding.

This short essay is intended to be a blueprint for hedonism. If I am lucky enough, it will encourage people to commit crime, train hop, dumpster dive, shoplift and feel good about themselves for doing it. If the time that some individuals take creating their freedom somehow inspires other individuals in the creation of their own, who needs movements and academic vanguards? Inspired by the adventures of other nomadic rebels who escaped this societal prison, I refused to remain an inmate. I prefer feral adventure - good times and bad times - over wage-slaving away in the preservation of industrial society.

Love and support to those who dropped out of school and faced life with nothing more than a lock-pick set and a backpack. Love and support to those who riot within the prisons of asylums and “correctional” facilities. Love and support to those who weaponized their lives, taking rebellion to their graves in choosing death over imprisonment. A howl to the lifestylist ex-workers who found fierce joy in the materialized anarchy of their wildest dreams.

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