Just to let you guys know, I do unfortunately need to move to another account due to email issues I won't specify. You'll find me now under @bluethetalkingcattimes2. I will still be continuing the Vanishing 16 AU, but under that name instead. Don't worry! All my posts here will be reblogged there, including this one.
( @anonyymoose I felt like you should be tagged here because we've been talking a lot lately, that's not an impostor I prommy)
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like yes actually there is a conversation to be had about how a characters actions are framed and how they thematically fit with the rest of the story and it can in fact reflect the author's beliefs. some authors are even trying to make a point
not all depiction is glorification but sometimes it is and you need to be able to tell the difference. not because your immortal soul will be tainted by reading The Bad One, but because you need to have reading comprehension skills
Standard warnings apply. Gore and spoilers ahead. Don't read if you're not done chapter three.
"The Hero"
They say it starts with a door.
It starts when you try to open one, at least. You reach out for the door to the wood shop, only to find the handle impossibly stuck. You twist harder, harder, and yet nothing works to open it. It's like something--someone--doesn't want you to open it. It's strange, unbelievably so. All the other doors open just fine, if slow or creaky. But this one won't even move, as if locked by some invisible force.
You leave for a moment, maybe to test some other doors, but they all work. When you return, the door is no longer in the same way it was left.
Namely, it is now guarded.
There's a girl sitting there, back to the door. You think you're hallucinating her at first, mind addled from a lack of sleep and the scares you've experienced over the past few hours. Why else would she be wearing a hero's suit, even complete with a cape? It's as if she stepped directly off a silver screen.
The moment she hears your footsteps, she stands, alert and ready, and you realize exactly why she does not want you to enter this room.
There's blood everywhere, and it really is everywhere. You don't know how you didn't see it at first. Dripping down from the holes in her exposed stomach. Staining her once white pants. Spilling from her lips, pooling on the floor around her. There's more blood than you thought could come from someone, from little wounds like the ones on her stomach. Her eyes are vacant, lifeless, but they're not angry. They're scared. Sad.
You take a step forward. She shakes her head. Briefly, you think you've imagined it. You take another step, and it's definite this time. A clearer shake of her head, an arm outstretched in front of the door. Her message is clear. She is not trying to hurt you. She is warning you, protecting you. Whether or not you heed her warning is another matter.
Her image fades from view. You may open the door now, if you wish. You may leave. You may continue on.
If you want to suffer her fate, she has done all she can to prevent it.
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she’s a murderer. she’s the most tortured girl ever. she has a victim complex like no other. she has crow symbolism. she’s autistic. she’s trans if you’re enlightened. she loves dnd. she’s eve from the Bible if she had 4chan. she has the sickest outfit ever. she’s crazy. she goes bweh. she is the best character ever made
Standard warnings apply once more. Spoilers and gore. Don't read unless you're finished chapter three of Tetro Pink.
"The Slaughtered"
They say it starts with a scream.
A scream that rings out for a moment, then is gone. No echo. No ringing. Just a scream, then nothing. You chalk it up to hearing things that aren't there, a frazzled mind unable to discern real from fake.
But it doesn't leave you.
You hear another, this time able to discern a word. Help. And yet, it disappears too. No echo. No sound. Just gone. You know you're not hearing things now, because he was speaking to you. You know there's something. Someone who needs you. Someone who was never saved, and maybe doesn't even know it.
You trace the sound back to the art room. The door's not locked. But, once you see what's inside, you'll wish it was.
It's a bloodbath. The entire room is washed red as if recently painted. The room's small, but in the centre of it sits a chair. On that chair slumps the body of a young man. His four limbs hang lifelessly off his blood-covered torso, skinny legs dangling off the seat and skinnier arms strapped behind him. At first, you think he's fallen backwards, head hanging off the back of the chair. But, quickly, you realize that's not the case. The body lurches forward, chair shifting beneath him.
You can't see his head because he doesn't have one. Not anymore, at least.
You catch a glimpse of something wrapped in tinfoil under the table. You don't want to stick around to find out what it is. So, instead, you just close the door and leave.
He follows. He thumps at the door, scratching for you to open it back up again, to let him out. He does that until you give up.
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"i cant defend ikeda anymore!!!" thats not the point. this is tetro. you arent meant to defend anyone in tetro. youre meant to pick their brains and every word apart and try to understand what its like to be in their place. no one in tetro is ever in the right bro.
Regular warnings apply. Spoilers and gore under the cut, don't read unless you've finished chapter 2 of Pink.
"The Falling Star"
They say it starts with laughter.
It's quiet, but not mocking. Not yet, at least. At first, you think you imagined it. But then, you see the stage curtains rustle, and you realize that there is someone here with you.
Do you know who Chiba Airi was?
She was an actress--one who'd been seemingly seven years old for seventeen. The world loved her, and she loved them too. She was kind. Hopeful. Naive. And then, one day, she vanished without a trace. Simply gone, like she never existed.
You have a choice to make now. There's no trick. There's no thought you need to put in. Just make the obvious one--none at all.
Mind your own business.
Pretend you don't hear the laughing. Don't jump when you hear the footsteps. Don't stare at the bloodied footprints she leaves behind her. Let her believe that you do not see her. Leave, if you can--but not too quickly. Pretend everything is fine. Pretend, like she did when she was alive.
Maybe you think you are being watched. She thinks so too.
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Something interesting to me about Tetro Danganronpa PINK is how that the school was underground. Because when you think about it, the dead are already technically buried. No need for a funeral if they’re 6 feet under.
They literally died inside of a tomb. The final resting place. Not a graveyard. A Tomb.
To make it more interesting, I think the place was just straight up abandoned. 2 floors were so destroyed that they had to house BLUE in a lab. Meaning they probably don’t have any plan to come back to the school, Probably got the survivors out and left the school to rot under the earth.
I think power got cut immediately after they closed up shop so the bodies are probably rotting along with any left over food in the kitchen. The pool water would eventually get bacteria from being contaminated from Mai’s blood.
The air would be stale from the lack of flowing air because the air ventilation was cut. The paint of Ojima’s sky on the balcony would began to wear eventually, leaving remains of a mural.
Blood would still be soaked into the carpet in the computer lab. Dried blood on the gurney and sword stashed away in the crawl space. The final execution chamber having remnants of the last execution on full display.
And the dorms? Small pockets of time that will never be seen again. Rooms left just as they were when that student stopped breathing for the final time or when the door was closed by another for the last time.
Closets full of clothes that would never been worn again. Workstations that would never get used or unmade beds from when a student thought they were coming back. 
The whole place is a tomb. A tomb where family, Friends, and lovers could never see. Never find. Never receive the bodies of their loved ones. Left to rot in cold lockers and forced to forever wonder what happened to the people they cared about.
Standard warnings apply: Spoilers for Tetro Pink chapter two, gore. Mild allusion to animal cruelty.
"The Hunter"
They say it starts with a growl.
He's not angry, not yet. At least, he doesn't seem to be. Just curious. His footsteps are unsteady. Shaky. Heavier on one side, but they're not lurching. They're just unsure, accompanied by the sound of something scraping against the tile.
Another growl, this one accompanied by a shadow on the wall. Teeth. Claws. But the room's not big, and you can't see anyone in there with you. Perhaps you're imagining it. Perhaps it's the groaning of the incinerator, your terror-addled mind making things up out of the shadows.
It's not until the incinerator turns on with no input that you're sure there's someone here with you.
A rush of heat hits you. The smell of burning garbage. The crackle of something going up in flames--but you were sure that nothing was in there before. If you're lucky--and smart--you leave then. You open the door and get out.
They say the rest is only seen by the guilty.
They say he only appears to those who are haunted already. They say you can only see him if you have hurt--a person, or, god forbid, an animal. Some reach out for the door and have it slam shut, doorknob impossibly stuck. Struggling to open it only makes the heat worse. Your skin blisters and splits. The stench and the smoke burns in your lungs. Blood starts to soak the floor.
And then, you see it. You see him. No, you see them.
Not animal and not human. Not the blindfolded boy with the dark hair and the rabbit snare wrapped around his neck. Not the tiger cub with the burned-off fur and the gunshot in her chest. Both and neither at the same time.
Not one creature, but two. Two beings trapped in the same skin, the image shifting and warping from one creature to another. In the wake of a premature death, you see what happens when one person is considered an extension of another.
Make the choice you should've years ago. Talk. Tell him what you did. Tell him you're sorry. Promise to set things right, like he never could. He will smile, kindly, genuinely, but with too-sharp teeth. The flames will die and the door will open. You may leave now. Not unscathed, but you may leave.
No matter what you do, don't let anger take hold. Don't let the adrenaline pumping through your veins get the best of you. Not like he did. Don't make the same mistake. He is kind, usually--but he is no pushover. He is a hunter. He sees through her eyes, he tears with her claws.
No matter how gentle a tiger is, its teeth will always be sharp.