i think the main reason I've consistently ranked Happy Sugar Life in such a high tier has to do with the fact that I'm actually NOT a fan of the traditional one-sided yandere trope (as in where only one of them is a crazy yandere rather than both of them being mutually crazy, like Noir) and don't care for how it's normally used as a way to write women as being obsessed with a man etc. etc. so the way HSL critiqued the concept really worked for me. The idea of taking the concept to the logical extreme of "y'know, someone being like that irl would actually be pretty fucked up" by having the guts to connect it to concepts as disturbing as child abduction, grooming, and pedophilia without being edgy for edgy's sake was an inspired choice imo. It uses the trope to tell a somber story about generational trauma and the cycle of abuse and how without support from people who care about them it's tragically common for those who are abused and isolated to end up continuing that cycle because that's all they were taught. As someone who suffered as the subject of abuse from a generational pattern and who has worked hard to break that cycle, Satou's story and ultimate participation in the cycle is DEVASTATING. I don't like to use the word "deconstruction" because it gets thrown around so casually but I love HSl for being an EXAMINATION of the trope and its impact. Idk it's just really good I think

this is also why i can't STAND the weird sanitization some fans insist on by claiming that the love Satou felt for Shio was "sisterly" or "motherly" because that robs the series of so much of its bite and comes across as being unwilling to actually examine the text for the sake of trying to excuse a character's actions by...making her less interesting? i get that it's a hard topic to acknowledge and discuss but if it bothers you that much then why not go back to one of the million other examples of yanderes who are portrayed in a much more positive light and who don't do terrible things on the same level she did? there's literally no point to it. also if someone is doing it because they're a satoshio fan then that's just cowardly and if someone is into satoshio i think that means at least having the chutzpah to acknowledge it for what it is if you're gonna ship it. like i'm not even trying to attack people for shipping it or whatever i'm just saying grow some fucking balls

The reason the "sisterly or motherly love for Shio" takes exist despite such terms not being very accurate descriptors for what Satou canonically felt for Shio is not always just to sanitize the creepy, child grooming lolicon relationship or to make excuses for Satou, but because the canon narrative itself stressed towards the end that Satou's feelings for Shio, at their innermost core, were not romantic. As Satou and Shio are falling off the burning building, Satou's mind goes to prettified fantasies of romantic love, complete with her and Shio literally getting married at the alter, only for this to give way to an epiphany that "Wait, this isn't right! The love I feel for Shio is a much different, much deeper form of love that goes beyond these dreamy desires!", and this dawns on Satou because for the first time, as the reality of impending death sinks in, this deeply affectionate and protective love is stripped of all selfishness and she finally puts Shio first ahead of herself entirely for Shio's own sake, sacrificing her own life so that Shio can keep her's. Satou may have gone all that time believing that she was romantically attracted to Shio and even that she had to be romantically attracted to her because the one person in the world for whom her heart feels a love deeper than anyone and anything else has to be her soulmate, age be damned, but in her final moment it became clear it was all a delusion.

Two things are true at once: that Satou loved Shio on a personal level in general rather than truly loving her romantically or sexually, and that Satou was sincerely set on her and Shio being romantic lovers to the point where she was repressing her, abusing her and grooming her up for when she'd come of age and be able to be that lover who could engage in romantic and sexual activity with her. That's a huge part of the "bittersweetness" that defined Satou and her "love", and what made her such a foul, filthy, damaged and disturbed soul who we love, loathe, respect and fear all at once.

the problem with not having watched anime growing up is that when I watch anime now I am suddenly assaulted with psychic blasts in which I recognize the source for all mannerisms and aesthetics of my peers

anime character: [does a gesture with his hand]

me: [involuntarily skyrockets backwards through time while screaming]

you guys I am having a fucking moment over here because I just started hunter x hunter and I am faced with the strong possibility that my old enemy from study abroad based his whole personality on one of the characters

is this how cosmic horror protagonists feel when they receive secret truths about the universe that unravel their sanity? because I don’t know if I can keep mine burdened with the knowledge that I spent six months of my life violently beefing with someone who kinned this guy:

sorry for elevating the tags op im trying to reconstruct this scenario in my minds eye.

literally the first day I met him I was like “this guy talks and acts like he’s trying to be an anime villain” and somehow it didn’t occur to me that he was trying to be a specific anime villain.

he’s the guy from this post in which I really downplayed just how fucking weird he was because it distracted from the point of the story but oh my god. I swear to god he quoted lines from the show. he kept his fingernails filed into sharp points for slashing damage. he thought suddenly appearing behind you and grabbing you by the throat was a really funny way to greet you. do you know how much psychic damage I am taking from this revelation? do you know???? after our first fight he brushed himself off and said “oh what fun that was!” in this stupid voice, even though I’d kicked his ass. I can’t believe I thought I was maybe going to be murdered by an alcoholic hisoka kinnie. how do I un-know this.

hey! you’ll never guess what he’s up to now!

he works for the department of defense.

SOCIAL SPECIES "Humans"

SHOCKED TO LEARN "humans"

ARE 'socially porous', 'impressionable',

AND 'driven by role-models' (SEE: 'alter-ego psychology') !!

WATCH AS THEY BELIEVE THEMSELVES

TO BE IMMUNE FROM THIS PROPERTY,

AND THAT THEY THEMSELVES ARE

INTIMATELY

SUBJECT TO

MIRROR-NEURON-DOINGS !!

can I fucking help you

You found a second clown

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Closest match: Carex arenaria genome assembly, chromosome: 10 Common name: Sand Sedge

(image source)

Evangelion is the best anime ever and also absolute dogshit. Everybody should watch it. I don't recommend it to anyone.

Evangelion touches deep themes and imagery. The creators said that they mostly introduced them because "they looked cool". It has amazing animation and scenery. They ran out of budget so most of the last chapters are just a telephone with a voiceover. Asuka is a quite developed character with an interesting exploration of female teenagehood and trauma. She's also used constantly as fanservice. Shinji is a very harsh picture of depression and lack of self worth and how one deals with it. He's also a whiny little bitch. Rei has a fascinating character arc as she begins to feel and think for herself. The creator himself forgot she existed by the middle of the series. Misato is probably the adult with most empathy towards the kids and what they're living through. She's also intermitently portrayed as an inmoral slob. Kaworu is probably the most interesting of all "antagonists" and has a very tender blooming romance with Shinji. He only shows up for a single episode. The EVAs are iconic mecha with a carefully developed worldbuilding and infraestructure behind them. Nobody fucking knows how big they are.

big fan of this article about magical girl history and how people perceive the genre

@lilietsblog

Chidori's friend's hair bothers me so much. It's not like I hate those ribbons, they're fine on Nanoha:

but it's something about how they're placed and coupled with the pigtailed braids that makes them too much. I think it's also the color and because it doesn't actually look like they're tied on too. I can't put my finger on it.

They're also visibly not subject to gravity. Nanoha's ribbons lean to the sides, these ribbons stick straight up

Posting this iconic piece of media that I just NEVER found online isolated except in an archived reddit thread

The anime is called Daily Lives of High School Boys, for anyone who wants more of this kind of thing. And yes the entire series is like this.

We (somewhat rightly) mock the 2000's era fansub translation notes for their otaku fixations and privileging of trivia over the media, but they should be understood as serving their purpose for a bit of a different era in the anime fandom. Take this classic:

Like, its so obvious, right? Just say "pervert", you don't need the note! Which is true, for like a 'normie' audience member who just wants to watch A TV Show - but no one watching, uh *quick google* "Kamikaze Kaitou Jeanne" in 1999 is that person. The audience is weebs, and for them the fact that show is Japanese is a huge selling point. They want it to feel as 'anime' as possible; and in the west language was one of the core signifiers of anime-ness. 2004 con-goers calling their friends "-kun" and throwing in "nani?" into conversations was the way this was done, and alongside that a lexicon of western anime fandom terminology was born. Seeing "ecchi" on the screen is, to this person, a better viewing experience - it enhances their connection to otaku identity the show is providing, and reinforces their shared cultural lexicon (Ecchi is now a term one 'expects' anime fans to know - a truth that translator notes like this simultaneously created and reflected).

But of course your audiences have different levels of otaku-dom, and so you can't just say 'ecchi' and call it a day - so for those who are only Level 2 on their anime journey, you give them a translation note. Most of the translation notes of the era are like this - terms the fansubber thought the audience might know well enough that they would understand it and want that pure Japanese cultural experience, but that not all of them would know, so you have to hedge. The Lucky Star one I posted is a great example of that:

Its Lucky Star, the otaku-crown of anime! You desperately want the core text to preserve as much anime vocab as possible, to give off that feeling, but you can't assume everyone knows what a GALGE is - doing both is the only way to solve that dilemma.

This is often a good guideline when looking at old memetically bad fansubs by the way:

This isn't real, no fansub had this - it was a meme that was posted on a wiki forum in 2007. Which makes sense, right? "Plan" isn't a Japanese cultural or otaku term, so there is no reason not to translate it, it doesn't deepen the ~otaku connection~.

Which, I know, I'm explaining the joke right now, but over time I think many have grown to believe that this (and others like it) is a real fansub, and that these sort of arbitrary untranslations just peppered fansub works of the time? It happened, sure, but they would be equally mocked back then as missteps - or were jokes themselves. Some groups even had a reputation for inserting jokes into their works, imo Commie Subs was most notable for this; part of the competitive & casual environment of the time. But they weren't serious, they are not examples of "bad fansubs" in the same way.

This all faded for a bunch of reasons - primarily that the market for anime expanded dramatically. First, that lead to professionally released translations by centralized agencies that had universal standards for their subs and accountability to the original creators of the show. Second, the far larger audience is far less invested in anime-as-identity; they like it, but its not special the way its special when you are a bullied internet recluse in 2004. They just want to watch the show, and would find "caring" about translation nuances to be cringe. And since these centralized agencies release their product infinitely faster and more accessibly than fansubs ever did, their copies now dominate the space (including being the versions ripped to all illegal streaming sites), so fansubs died.

Though not totally - a lot of those fansub groups are still around! Commie Subs is still kicking for example. They either do the weird nuance stuff, or fansub unreleased-in-the-west old or niche anime, or even have pivoted to non-anime Japanese content that never gets international release. But they used to be the taste-makers of the community; now they are the fringe devotees in a culture that has moved beyond them. So fansubs remain something of a joke of the 90's and 2000's in the eyes of the anime culture of today, in a way that maybe they don't deserve.

Ok but identity stuff aside, watching something in a different language is a way to LEARN THE LANGUAGE. And the culture. Like... yalls horrific americanization of everything is not how... other countries do it? Russian dub of Sailor Moon that I watched as a kid was a true "dub" as in "double" as in "you hear the original soundtrack under the translation, a little quieter". Like I literally got to learn some Japanese words from it, ones that tended to be at the start or end of sentences or that were standalone exclamations (greetings, apologies, "help", etc)

Like, it's actually pretty normal to want to get translator's notes like that when it helps. Sure, it's not "mainstream in the cinema", but it's "people curious about other cultures and wanting to learn about them" niche, not "internet outcast" niche.

Sure, the exact clarification might get a little silly in prioritization, but like... subtitles that prefer honorrifics are wildly superior to subtitles that don't in my personal opinion. People watching foreign movies shouldn't need to be insulated from the fact they're foreign, and expecting them to learn something in the process is... normal.

ethical dilemmas with eizouken 😎

Evangelion is the best anime ever and also absolute dogshit. Everybody should watch it. I don't recommend it to anyone.

Evangelion touches deep themes and imagery. The creators said that they mostly introduced them because "they looked cool". It has amazing animation and scenery. They ran out of budget so most of the last chapters are just a telephone with a voiceover. Asuka is a quite developed character with an interesting exploration of female teenagehood and trauma. She's also used constantly as fanservice. Shinji is a very harsh picture of depression and lack of self worth and how one deals with it. He's also a whiny little bitch. Rei has a fascinating character arc as she begins to feel and think for herself. The creator himself forgot she existed by the middle of the series. Misato is probably the adult with most empathy towards the kids and what they're living through. She's also intermitently portrayed as an inmoral slob. Kaworu is probably the most interesting of all "antagonists" and has a very tender blooming romance with Shinji. He only shows up for a single episode. The EVAs are iconic mecha with a carefully developed worldbuilding and infraestructure behind them. Nobody fucking knows how big they are.

I like the W.A.S. scale for rating anime. It stands for Weeb Ass Shit, and you rate each of those things on a 10 point scale.

So like, a series that requires extensive knowledge of japanese culture, or one that relies on the audience already being very familiar with the media tropes that it’s parodying, would have a high Weeb score while one that any 10-year old american would totally understand would have a low Weeb score.

The Ass column is for how much gratuitous nudity or attempts at titilation there is, with pure and innocent things like most ghibli films getting really low numbers, things like Bakemonogatari or Kill la Kill ending up in the middle of the scale, and borderline hentai at the top.

And finally, the Shit column covers things that are just fucking stupid, or poorly implemented. Low numbers indicate a series that is extremely well written and has a lot of good ideas, higher values come from plot holes, idiot plots, authors shoehorning in some incredibly nonsensical philosophy, etc.

Some people don’t mind the weeb nonsense at all, so they only have to look at the other two categories. Some people have very little tolerance for ass, even in a series that is otherwise of high quality. Some people decide based on a combined score, like they can tolerate more ass if the shit level is really low or vice versa but refuse to deal with both at the same time.

I literally was looking for someone in the notes to mention the Weeb Ass Shit scale, bless you for explaining! Also I feel like even if the person you’re recommending things to is unfamiliar with this scale, it’s a helpful tool to help you break down and analyze different elements of the show.

Sailor Moon Crystal Takeaways

I love how in nanoha season 2, characters talk about staying in contact through “video letters”, which seem to be them taking a video of themselves and then physically mailing a device containing the video

it’s not just a sci-fi space tech thing, it seems to be recognized as normal by characters who don’t even know about any of the sci-fi stuff

thinking about it more, it seems like this is probably what was on the CDs nanoha and fate exchanged. and it isn’t referenced in any other context, which suggests that it just somehow turned out to be the most effective way of getting messages to space and then nanoha bullshitted her friends and family into believing this was a normal and sane method of communication

I love you older anime I love you hand drawn animation I love you alcohol marker streaks and unblended gradients I love you limited color schemes I love you drops to 1 or 2 fps in action scenes I love you meticulously drawn details and hand inked freeze frames I love you blue ink lineart for 2 scenes because they ran out of black I love you-

You know those anime meta posts along the lines of “I was born with pink hair. The doctors told my parents I was a Main Character and ever since my life has not known peace from demons/spirits/sports competitions/harems who find me”

Well I see that, and I raise you this:

An anime boy whose appearance is, by absolutely anyone’s account, completely and utterly average. Mundane hair. Mundane eyes. Not even glasses to set him the tiniest bit apart. A simple, unmemorable, unrecognizable civilian among a backdrop of millions.

And he has a lot of passions, and a lot of ambitions, which he hones every chance he gets. He’s dabbled in sports and archery and cooking and just about anything you could wrap a competition around. And he’s competed in many of these. Every chance he gets. With all of his passion and all of his might.

He’s crushed by the competition every single time.

Until one day–one day something clicks for him. Something that should have seemed obvious from the start and yet never was–as though everyone, including himself, was unwittingly blind to it. It clicks, when he realizes every kid who’s beaten him in competition, every kid who’s gone on to fame and glory and acclaim, has been some candy-haired gel-spiked ridiculously-dressed fucker. 

There’s some trend there that this Main Character boy can’t explain and can’t understand but he decides, this one time, fuck it. He’ll play along too. He’s got a model train competition in four days, and he’s got nothing more to lose. He hits up the department store, buys the pinkest, noxious-est, fruitiest hair dye he can find, the spikiest hair gel available, and the gaudiest clothes on the thrift rack. He enters the model train competition looking like a bubble gum gijinka.

And he wins.

Suddenly, the other candy-haired contestants notice him. They talk to him. They pledge rivalries. Girls notice him. Judges applaud him. Acclaimed model train aficionados offer him internships across the world. He’s hit on something. 

The main cast expands to cover just about every candy-hair cliche in the book: from the mostly-normal-looking demure school girl with the blue hair to the Naruto-est, yelling-est boy with the red-and-green spiked hair. The cool megane senpais, the purple haired tsunderes, suddenly everyone is interested in him. They’re prodigies and upstarts and underdogs and they truly believe that this main character boy is one of them.

So the main character boy maintains his ruse. He touches up his roots at dawn every morning and carefully attends to his gelled spikes and tells absolutely no one about this great, uncanny, unfathomable secret he’s stumbled upon. He wins his competitions left and right. He racks up the acclaim. He’s hailed as a prodigy of all trades, just now bursting onto the scene, and boils to the top of all his candy-haired peers.

He’s rising up, his every dream within his grasp. Until one day he gets a note under his door, taped to an old picture of his Normal Boring self from middle school, that says “You don’t belong”

There’s an international competition, and Main Character-kun and all his candy-haired rivals/peers/nakama/friends are being housed in the same hotel.

The night before the competition, some ungodly scream sounds from the Naruto-kid’s room. The rest of the cast rush in, flick on the lights, and find Naruto-kid sitting up in bed, his hair completely flat and utterly black, a pair of DIY salon gloves discarded next to his bed. He races to the mirror across the room, hands hovering in shock around his straightened hair, as though unable to recognize the boy staring back at him.

It’s… an unsettling act of personal vandalism, but Naruto-kid seems unhurt. After verifying he’s okay and reporting it to hotel security, most of the kids are content to go back to their own rooms and just double-check their own locks.

Most seem content…. Not all…

The next day, Naruto-kid is eliminated from the competition nigh-instantly. He’s given no chance to monologue about his ambitions, his friends, his hometown.  Not even a second spared for a flashback to the bullying that became the formative motivator of his childhood.  

No. He’s summarily eliminated by another candy-haired contestant. Naruto-kid, with his suddenly unassuming black hair, is dismissed from the arena. And Main Character-kun is distressed. 

There’s a murderer on the loose. Just in no traditional sense. Another kid is shaved bald in the middle of the night, and eliminated from the competition the next day. Colored contact lenses go missing, and suddenly the red-eyed yandere girl doesn’t have a leg to stand on. She’s sent home without the slightest bit of fanfare. Someone funnels bleach into the sprinkler line, and a triggering of the fire alarm leaves a whole arena of contestants doused in the ruinous fluid. Their candy colors melt into brittle, tacky, bleachy off-orange. Not a single one survives that night’s round of eliminations.

Main Character-kun is still pink. He’s still gelled. He’s still dressed in fiery robes and platform sandals with a bandana cinched around his forehead. He hoards hair dye in his room and sleeps with one eye open. He can only watch in silence as this gruesome assassination plot unravels, without a doubt in his mind that he is the real target.

One night, there’s a knock on his door. And the twisting of a key. And the squeak of hinges swinging open. Main Character-boy’s breathing halts.  His time has come.

He looks. It’s the blue-haired girl, the quiet one with self-confidence issues. Her hair is tied into twin pigtails. She’s carrying something in her right hand.  Main Character boy braces for impact.

She flicks on the lights. He looks. They’re wigs, in her hand. Three of them. Purple Green and Orange, each primmed and poofed and curled to extravagant degrees.

“Here,” she offers, hand extended. “Take whichever you like. They’re extra.”

“Wait. Why…? What’s this–what’s happening?”

She takes a step forward, and she shuts the door behind her. With her free hand, she grips the blue hairline at her scalp, and she pulls back gently, revealing netting. She drops the blue hair to the ground, and pulls the netting free from her forehead, and a loose, unassuming bob of perfectly black, perfectly normal hair falls around her shoulders.

She’s unassuming in every possible regard, mundane in every sense, a girl to blend into the backdrop of millions.

“We’re not going home yet,” she says. “Not you, and not me.”

chrissy i want you to know im in love with this

The Comb and the Dye are in fact the real anime weapons of this series im so glad they’re wielding them as such

The Main Character girl wraps her hair back up in the netting and fixes her blue wig back in place. She takes a seat in the nearby desk chair and explains why she’s here. She’s suspected for a while that she and MC-kun are the same, both normal-looking people masquerading in this candy haired world. MC-kun had seemed just a bit too distraught during the Naruto-kid incident. That was when Main Character-chan first noticed him, and when she recognized his shade of candy pink hair by its bottle brand.

MC-chan explains that she had lived a very normal and unassuming life. She did Stage Crew in middle school for the drama club, always the unnoticed extra in the background, sweeping in silently, covertly, under darkness to handle the scene changes and wardrobe transformations.  She honed her skills making props and costumes for the drama kids, til she was a master of needle and thread, dyes and combs, and props built from paper and plastic.

She thinks it was that attention-to-detail she cultivated in prop-design that let her finally See what MC-kun had seen—the Candy Haired world around her that constantly overshadowed whatever she did.

One day, she put on the wig. And she never looked back.

But she doesn’t know who the hair assassin is either, any more than MC-kun. There’s still strength in numbers. And she figures if they work together, their odds of survival are greater.

MC-kun agrees.

…

The next day is a free day for the kids competing in this International Competition. The morning passes with most of the contestants montaging through a romp in the city, tasting local cuisine and window-shopping around the market area and getting into Kodak-moment worthy shenanigans.

MC-kun and MC-chan steal away to a quiet park, sitting at a picnic table, putting pink- and blue-heads together to talk through all the info they have, and what options are open to them. They don’t get very far. A glasses-wearing girl appears from behind the bushes and stops them cold.

Glasses Girl is small and wiry, mousy in her frame. She has orange hair that poofs around her head, cropped at chin level, in a way that reminds MC-kun vaguely of a roosting chicken. Her glasses are enormous on her freckled face, and they capture the light, obscuring her eyes behind their glare.

“You two… you’re fakes, aren’t you? Both of you.”

MC-kun stops cold. MC-chan spins around in her seat, wide-eyed. “I don’t… I don’t even know what that means! Go away before we—”

Glasses Girl pulls an immaculate, highly stylized laptop from her bag. She flips it open with one hand, propping it on the table and typing furiously, too fast to even see her fingers. Audio begins to play from the laptop speakers.

“We’re not going home yet. Not you, and not me.”

“I hacked into your phone last night,” GG-chan states simply, head tilted toward MC-kun. “I’ve heard the whole conversation.”

“How?!” MC-kun asks. He holds his phone at a distance, like it’s suddenly venomous.

GG-chan shifts. Suddenly the glare of her glasses is no longer obstructing her eyes. Behind the coke-bottle look is an expression of pure brow-knitted confusion. “I don’t…. I don’t actually know. I just could.”

GG-chan was an art student. A not-very-good-at-all art student. And a very-much-below-average competitor in sculpting competitions. She was plain, and unassuming, and inconspicuous, and jealous of the better-established art students around her with their own flashy styles. Her peers wore giant non-prescription glasses; they dyed their hair bright colors and cropped it short to perfect hipster chique.

GG-chan tried to imitate that. But as a truly-not-fantastic artist, she couldn’t even pull that off. She dyed her hair, picked out glasses, overshot “hipster”, and landed firmly in “geek”.

She landed so firmly in “geek” that internationally-acclaimed hacker abilities spawned with her makeover. Suddenly she could break into anything, override anything, hack or fix or erase anything over a permanent wifi connection that followed her as its hotspot.

Her laptop never loses charge. Her bash scripts never fail. Her glasses always glint in the slightest bit of light and slide down her nose so that she has to keep her middle finger pressed firmly to the bridge at all times.

She’s afraid of being sent home in ruin, sent back to her life as a mediocre art student.

GG-chan wants to join the effort to not be eliminated.

…

A day passes. GG-chan has hacked all the email accounts of the registered contestants and has found nothing suspicious. MC-chan has spent her time crafting shorter-cut wigs to give to MC-kun and GG-chan as backups. MC-kun has been trying his best to understand what he’s gotten into. He bought a few extra obnoxious bandanas to bolster his obnoxious outfit, as if that might help.

They’re sitting quietly at lunch, eating in silence, with no new information to share and no desire to attract unwanted attention from the contestants around them.

“Ohhhhh my what is this? Has this pathetic posse of plebeians formed a little club oh how quaint!”

MC-chan chokes on her noodles. GG-chan startles. MC-kun groans.

The voice belongs to a platinum-blond boy, dressed to the nines, who’s sidled up to the table unannounced. He reeks of ambition and money and arrogance and a very particular high-end cologne, and he laughs heartily at his own joke. He flicks a lock of blond hair from his face, which all but sparkles.

MC-kun recognizes this kid. He was one of the first Candy Haired kids to declare an eternal rivalry with him.

“What’s it to you?” MC-kun challenges, already ticked off.

And the Rich Blond Rival Boy deflates. Comically. Pale and hollow-cheeked and exhausted, suddenly leaning against their lunch table, speaking in a rasp. “Please let me join you. I’ve been wearing this Gucci suit for two weeks straight I don’t have any others.”

No one answers immediately. No one has anything resembling an answer.

“Then buy another suit!” MC-kun says.

“Do I look like I’m made of m o n e y to you?!”

“YES.”

“Ah ha! Yes that is the point, well you see–” and RBR-kun pulls out a soggy PB&J from his bag, slumps into an open seat at the table, his eyes dull and matte, solemnly chewing his lunch. “Can one of you spot me like $1.50 for the bus ride to the competition arena tomorrow? I spent the last of my money on this bread.”

MC-kun: “What?”

RBR-kun: “I don’t have money!”

MC-kun: “Why are you ACTING like a rich boy if you DONT HAVE MONEY”

RBR-kun: “LOOK IT JUST KIND OF HAPPENED OKAY.”

MC-kun: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT JUST KIND OF HAPPENED.”

And well, it just kind of happened. Rich Blond Rival Boy is as fake as they come. He grew up in a modest household, making money over the summer by doing yard work for neighbors. He was fairly frugal and quiet and unassuming, until his grandma bought him a nice tux for the school dance, and he dyed his hair platinum blond on a dare, and suddenly the world was in his pocket.

Suddenly he had connections in high places. Suddenly he could have wait staff doting on him at a moment’s notice. Suddenly he could summon helicopters at the snap of his fingers, and have any product imaginable, legal or not, air-lifted to him on a whim. Everyone was his pawn. Everything bent to his will. Ever since then he’s been unstoppable in his ambitions.

He just doesn’t have any of the actual money to maintain this. All his cards are overdrafted. His credit is in the toilet. Several different loan sharks technically own the rights to his immortal soul.

Rich Blond Rival Boy wants in on the League Of Background Characters, because he is utterly afraid of the ruin he faces if he is exposed. If the others get assassinated, they get sent home. If RBR-kun gets assassinated, the debtors will drag him out by his toes.

A scuffle erupts over by the lunch line before anyone can give RBR-kun an answer. It’s over in an instant. A shriek, a clatter, a tray and knife hitting the ground. The biker ruffian boy with the blue mohawk lies on the floor. His shorn-off mohawk spikes lie on the platter, as if being served to the cafeteria at large.

Worried murmurs break out in the crowd.

No one had seen the knife-yielder. 

No one had seen anything.

As if the act were committed by someone impossible to even notice.

[chanting]

MORE KIDS MORE KIDS MORE KIDS

LAST PART, CONCLUSION AND ALL, AND IT’S LONG. 

And the one thing worth noting: MC-chan is now MG-chan, as in Main Girl-chan, to avoid mixing up her name with MC-kun. 

Enjoy.

There’s a sustained hush, like a breath held too long. It’s a blooming, crawling, clawing wave of realization that takes the cafeteria captive. Heads turn. Voices falls silent. Clueless candy-hair after clueless candy-hair takes in the murder scene, mohawk spikes presented so curiously, so esoterically plattered, as if part of the lunch selection.

The dish itself is a warning; MG-chan understands that much. She feels the bloodlust in the air. And it’s closer now. She edges her chair away from the table. Her nerves are alight.

“Run,” MG-chan says.

“Sorry?” MC-kun replies.

MG-chan kicks her chair back, lighting to her feet.

“Run!”

And at that moment, a sound like a cannon ball fires, the silence breaking. People startle at the noise, but it’s the boy sitting one table over – directly across from MC-kun – who jolts entirely sideways in his seat. He’s the contestant whose hair has been quaffed perfectly into a cartoon whale, pallid blue and deep ocean undertones brimming through his hairline. He stares forward, as if stunned. The girl next to him asks if he’s okay.

He turns to her slowly, and reveals the entire right half of his face has been consumed in a wad of bubblegum. He raises one shaking hand to his whale-tail, now webbed in gum, and he collapses.

And all hell breaks loose.

MG-chan has MC-kun by the shoulder before he can process it. They’re running. Them and GG-chan and RBR-kun. Them and almost everyone else, a breathing screaming mass of panic as people shove and knee and elbow their way through the crowd.

“Where are we going?” MC-kun asks. He’s stumbling to keep pace with MG-chan, one hand pressed protectively to the bandana on his forehead in danger of slipping off.

“Away from here. Outside.”  MG-chan throws her weight against the cafeteria door. It slams open. “Wherever we’re not sitting targets.”

Their feet beat against the linoleum below, into the hotel foyer, but it’s no good. The bloodlust presence doesn’t fade. It does not grow weaker. Instead it gains on them, like heat, like a house fire that lashes out at their heels and trips them with each step. Another two kids go down with the sound of razor blades and a puff of shorn hair, like dandelion fluff blown in the wind.

MG-chan, MC-kun, GG-chan, and RBR-kun all burst out the hotel front doors – RBR-kun with a shriek and a graceful leap over a half-shaved unconscious student on the floor.

“How did he go down?! I didn’t even see him go down?!” RBR-kun shouts, pointing to the kid he vaulted. “Invisibility? Is the murderer invisible?!”

“Maybe super-speed. Really any superpower is possible among these people. We can’t rule anything out.” GG-chan has her laptop out, balanced precariously on the crook of her arm. She types one-handed while she runs. “If I can hack into the security cameras maybe I can activate the infra-red sensors and get a reading on—”

There’s a crack. A gasp. MG, MC, and RBR all look back to find GG-chan frozen in place. Her glasses are shattered, pinned to the wall beside her by a single needle-thin arrow.

“My glasses…” GG-chan blinks, and stares at her laptop like it’s something entirely foreign to her. “What is this? What was I–?”

MG-chan grabs her arm too. “Never mind. Run. Just run.”

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