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Undesirables

You are entering an alternate world, where the Philippines didn't achieve its independence but remained a US colony. You will meet four people living in Neo Manila, where the government is repressive, prohibited drugs are legal, and crime is rampant. Undesirables are abducted and imprisoned in the Valley, which is a hidden prison island. A secret society called the Sons of Lapu-Lapu is working to undermine the government and has spies within the Valley and the governmental ranks. A young man and a woman are victims of circumstance and caught between two sides. She initially betrays him but made amends later and became lovers. The government leader (and main villain) have thought of a bold plan to use witchcraft in creating a perfect Utopian society for him and the one-percenters in the colony: the New Gods. The remaining unworthy would not be included and thus eliminated. The soul of Neo Manila and the whole colony is at stake. Will the Sons of Lapu-Lapu or the New Gods prevail in the end? Who will you pledge your allegiance to?

Not enough ratings

25 Chapters

In Love With My Evil Stepbrother

When your hot stepbrother holds you in bed, groans your name and asks you to give in, what do you do? Natalia just broke up with her jackass ex-boyfriend. The last thing she needs right now is another shitty relationship. So when her stepbrother Eason, the notorious fuckboy, suddenly show a strong interest in her, she knows she needs to stay away. Yet steamy, bad, irresistible, and toxic. She still ends up fallen, for this green-eyed hot boy who is impossible to say no to.

94 Chapters

The Bully's Obsession

SEQUEL OUT!! CLICK ON MY PROFILE TO CHECK IT OUT (SINFUL OBSESSION #2 IN THE BULLY'S OBSESSION) Warning:strong languages and explicit dark mature scenes such as abuse and torture . Read at your own risk "You are completely mine Gracie, your tears , fears, I'm going to completely shatter you until you know nothing else but my name"I never knew how twisted he was until this moment..."I'm n...not yours" I stutteredHis gaze darkened and harderned at my words"I dare you to say that again" he said taking a threatening step closerI opened my mouth but no words came out Next thing i was trapped between him and the wall ,both my hands pinned above my head, my knees weakened by his domineering look"You belong to me! your body and soul belongs to me, I'll mark you again and again......" He whispered nibbling at my throatHow did I get into this? Was there no way out?He'd already broken me ,what else could he expect from a broken soulThis was the guy who took everything from me, my pride ,my virginity and seven my soulShe's a quiet kind and warmhearted average nerdGraciela's only wish was to graduate highschool, go to college and get a good life and if she was ever so lucky find love, but a certain someone seems to hate everything she stood forOr does he?Hayden McAndrew Has been Graciela's tormentor for as long as she could remember but he leftAnd Gracie made the mistake to think it was forever now he was back to make her life a living hell!They say a very thing line exists between love and hate, what if after the line all she found was a dark obsession that consumed her every being ?

9.3

81 Chapters

The Alpha's rejection

Alpha James who is known to be cold-hearted, ruthless and arrogant is feared by all. Rumors say he is totally cruel and leaves no enemy behind. His reputation does him no justice in the social department as he was rejected three times by his mates. A secret he intends to keep to himself. Convinced he doesn't need love, he takes it upon himself to reject his forth chance mate to preserve his pride. "I Alpha James Tyler Carter of black mist pack, reject you Zoe Chloe Anderson of White mist pack as my mate and Luna." "But.....why?" "I don't need a mate. I'm fine on my own! I don't want some she-wolf up in my business!" He roared arrogantly. "I Zoe Chloe Anderson of white mist pack, reject your rejection, humph!" She scoffed. Zoe is an arrogant, egotistic Alpha's Daughter who doesn't take no for an answer. What happens when she meets the most ruthless Alpha in the world and he rejects her as his mate? They say opposites attract but similarities bind. Will these two look past all their shortcomings and accept each other? Or will their pride lead them to separate ways?

9.7

142 Chapters

Accidental Claim

“My heart was racing, I couldn’t breathe anymore. Suddenly something that seemed like a mistake became my reason to breathe, to live, to survive, but how could I tell him when I already said I wouldn’t fall.” Ruby Marlow. Ruby has a one-night stand that would change her life forever. Coming from an overprotective family with a retired Gamma father, and three overprotective brothers, Ruby has to sneak around to have romance in her life. She was promised to her new Alpha, Randolph Hill, who is also her brother's best friend, the current Gamma. A one-night stand with Jasper, a total stranger, changes her life forever as he accidentally claims her in the heat of passion, thereby committing an unforgivable act that threatens her future as Luna and changes her life forever.

9.7

181 Chapters

IN THE ARMS OF MY ALPHA

A growl escaped his throat as my robe fell and pooled at my feet. I was completely naked. I saw his eyes dilating. He wanted me. That was all that mattered. A seductive smile curled on my lips, hiding the nervousness I felt. "I'm all yours, Alpha..." "Get dressed! And get out!" His breathing hitched as his gaze swept all over my naked form. I walked towards him, biting my lower lip as I reached for his shirt, unbuttoning it while ignoring his anger. He would have pushed me away if he didn't want this, but instead, he moved swiftly and pinned me against the wall. "Is this what you want?" His said hoarsely. His breath brushed against my neck, sending pleasurable tingles between my thighs as he pressed his front against mine. I stared back at him, letting my eyes show the emotions I had kept hidden all these years. "I want you, Caspian." ***** In a world where Alpha Females are pawns for the Claiming, being an Omega Female is considered a blessing. Andrea was born and raised as an Omega. She had the freedom to choose whether to be claimed by her mate or be someone's chosen. And so she thought, until the reality of her past came hunting her. Alpha Caspian knew from the very beginning that he wanted Andrea, whether they were fated mates or not. But by the time he was ready to make amends for sending her away when she was 15, a secret from her past had resurfaced. Would he let her go this time? Or was she worth fighting for? ***** A spin-off novel from the Black Shadow Pack Series. While the story is stand-alone, I recommend that you read the Black Shadow Pack Series to gain a better understanding of the characters.

9.9

115 Chapters

Why Do Anime Depict Undesirables As Villains Or Outcasts?

2 Answers2025-08-27 03:09:13

I've always been fascinated by how storytellers simplify messy social realities into clear-cut villains, and anime does this with a particular visual and cultural language. On a basic level, marking 'undesirables' as villains is an efficient storytelling tool: a person who looks, acts, or lives outside the expected social norms immediately signals conflict. Anime leans on visual shorthand — darker clothing, asymmetrical scars, unusual eyes, or even a dramatic musical cue — so audiences can quickly understand who's opposed to the protagonist. That economy matters in shows with long episode lists and crowded casts; a single visual note can replace pages of exposition, which is handy in mid-season confrontations or shonen tournaments.

Digging deeper, there are real cultural currents underneath that shorthand. Japan has a long history of valuing group harmony and showing suspicion toward those who don't conform — a backdrop that naturally seeps into the media. Historically marginalized groups like the 'burakumin' or people who deviate from expected roles have been othered in subtle and explicit ways, and some creators either mirror or critique that tendency. Sometimes the outcast-villain is a lazy caricature rooted in prejudice; other times they’re a deliberate mirror for society’s failures. Works like 'Tokyo Ghoul' or 'Psycho-Pass' flip the script by making the so-called monsters sympathetic, forcing viewers to examine why the system deems them undesirable in the first place.

I also think about genre mechanics and audience catharsis. Villains-as-outcasts offer emotional clarity: they embody fears about contamination, difference, or social collapse, which makes the hero’s struggle feel morally right and satisfying. That can be comforting, especially in escapist stories where viewers want clear moral lines. But it’s not universal — lots of modern anime challenge or complicate the trope. Shows such as 'Neon Genesis Evangelion' and 'Dorohedoro' layer ambiguity onto monstrosity, making the undesirable a source of empathy or systemic critique instead of merely a target to defeat. When a series chooses to humanize the outsider, it can feel powerful and subversive, and I find myself rooting for narratives that force us to confront our own biases rather than patting us on the back. If you’re curious, look for interviews with creators and pay attention to who’s being othered and why — it reveals a lot about the story and the society that produced it.

How Do Films Redeem Undesirables Through Plot Twists?

2 Answers2025-08-27 06:25:17

There’s a weird little thrill when a movie takes someone you’ve been taught to hate and turns the lights on behind their actions. I get that rush most when the twist isn’t just a cheap surprise but a reframe that forces me to rethink motive, context, and consequence. Films redeem undesirables through twists by shifting perspective: a late reveal can turn a petty criminal into a desperate parent, a cold-blooded killer into a guardian who made the worst possible choice, or a scheming mastermind into someone protecting an even darker secret. That shift makes the audience do mental gymnastics—suddenly we’re arguing with ourselves about blame, mercy, and whether understanding equals forgiveness.

Mechanically, directors and writers do this in a few repeatable ways. One is the reveal of coercion or duress: learning a character acted under threat reframes their agency. Another is the confessional/unreliable narrator twist, where the ‘‘truth’’ we took for granted is peeled back and we see the inner life that explains (but doesn’t always excuse) actions—think of moments like the late scene in 'Atonement' that complicates guilt and intention. Sometimes the twist exposes sacrifice—someone’s cruel act was actually a cover for protecting someone else, which retroactively complicates our moral calculus. Then there’s the compassion trick: we’re shown a traumatic backstory, and empathy softens our judgment. On the flip side, some twists deliberately strip away sympathy (‘‘they were lying the whole time’’), and that contrast itself becomes part of the film’s moral game.

I also pay attention to craft because the way the twist is delivered matters: timing, foreshadowing, actor microbeats, and score can persuade us to root for a character suddenly made sympathetic. Misdirection is a tool—edit a scene so the audience sees what a character wants them to see, then yank the rug with a reveal that rewrites the scene’s meaning. That’s why some redemptions feel earned and some feel manipulative. A twist that honors prior clues and deepens character psychology tends to make redemption feel believable; a twist that retrofits virtue onto an unchanged character can feel like emotional trickery.

I love debating these kinds of reversals with friends—over coffee or in the glow after credits—because they force you to ask whether redemption is a narrative device or a moral reckoning. Movies don’t always offer tidy answers, and the ones that stick with me are the films that leave you a little unsettled about how much sympathy we owe each other.

Which Authors Name Groups As Undesirables In Fiction?

2 Answers2025-08-27 19:27:23

There's a thick tradition in speculative fiction and dystopia of authors inventing a term or label for people their societies deem "unfit" or "undesirable," and it's fascinating to watch how different writers use that device to critique real-world prejudice. For me, some of the clearest examples are the ones where the label itself becomes a mirror for history: George Orwell literally uses the idea of 'unpersons' in '1984' to show how totalitarian regimes erase people from history; Margaret Atwood coins 'unwomen' in 'The Handmaid's Tale' to make the reader feel the bureaucratic cruelty of excluding women who don't fit a narrow role; Kazuo Ishiguro's 'Never Let Me Go' treats clones as a socially acceptable underclass whose very destiny gets sanitized by euphemisms. Reading these felt like watching a slow-motion unmasking of how language is weaponized against a group.

Other authors take slurs and social categories that might be familiar and twist them into worldbuilding devices. J. K. Rowling's 'Mudblood' in the 'Harry Potter' books captures how bigotry attaches to ancestry; Veronica Roth literally has a 'Factionless' class in 'Divergent' that functions as society's cast-offs; Lois Lowry in 'The Giver' builds a society where difference is pathologized under the banner of 'sameness.' In sci-fi, Philip K. Dick's dehumanization of androids in 'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?' and Octavia Butler's recurring explorations of caste and othering (see 'Parable of the Sower' and other works) lay bare how economic, racial, or biological difference gets framed as moral or physical inferiority.

Comics and graphic novels do it too: Alan Moore's 'V for Vendetta' shows a regime that targets 'undesirables' (political dissidents, minorities, the poor), and you can see echoes of historical language used to ostracize people. Even YA and genre fiction—Scott Westerfeld's 'Uglies' (labels around beauty), Suzanne Collins' 'The Hunger Games' (Capitol's jargon for districts and 'tributes')—play with naming to show how social exclusion works. What ties these authors together isn't genre so much as purpose: the invented names, slurs, or bureaucratic categories dramatize the mechanics of exclusion. I often find myself mentally cataloging how a single invented word can carry centuries of real-world violence and contempt—then noticing it in news headlines or in a casual conversation, which is unnerving and useful at the same time.

Why Do Audiences Sympathize With Undesirables In TV?

3 Answers2025-08-27 22:54:36

There’s something electric about rooting for the person you’re 'not supposed to'—I feel it in my chest whenever a show gives screentime to someone messy and morally crooked. On a storytelling level, we’re drawn to complexity; tidy heroes are boring. When a writer peels back layers and shows why someone became cruel or desperate, I start to see echoes of choices I might have made under pressure. That recognition loosens moral judgment and invites empathy. Shows like 'Breaking Bad' or 'The Sopranos' are textbook examples: you spend so much time inside their heads that their logic starts to feel persuasive, even when it’s destructive.

Beyond craft, there’s a social angle. Rooting for undesirables lets audiences safely explore taboo feelings—anger, resentment, the wish to break rules—without real-world consequences. It’s also a mirror: when society treats certain people as disposable, stories that humanize them feel like corrective justice. I notice this in late-night conversations with friends, when someone will defend a villain not because they support the actions but because they see the pain beneath them. That’s empathy in practice.

Finally, charisma matters. A well-acted bad apple with a good monologue becomes lovable. Combine that with moral ambiguity, a sympathetic backstory, and smart writing, and you have a character that makes even my quieter, more judgmental friends defend them. I don’t always agree with the choices they make, but I keep watching—partly for the craft, partly to test my own moral compass.

How Does Fanfiction Reimagine Undesirables Into Heroes?

2 Answers2025-08-27 09:09:25

There's a real thrill in watching a so-called 'undesirable' get handed the hero's cape, and fanfiction does this with a sort of guerrilla storytelling energy that I find addictive. For me, it starts with perspective: flip the camera, let the underdog narrate. When you read a version where the exiled knight, the arrogant side character, or the 'villain' gets first-person chapters, their small choices and private thoughts suddenly make sense. That shift alone humanizes them; details like why they flinch at mention of a name, or how they fix a child's toy in secret, become narrative currency. I jot those tiny gestures in the margins of my drafts over coffee, because those moments are the seeds of empathy.

Mechanically, writers use a bunch of clever tools. There's the backstory-dump done gently—flashbacks, found letters, or confessional diary entries—that rewires our moral compass toward someone previously labeled irredeemable. There’s moral reframing too: swapping the context so the 'crime' looks like survival, or showing a corrupt system that forced harsh choices. Redemption arcs are popular, obviously, but I love when creators go subtle—small repairs, acts of care, the slow building of trust rather than an overnight saint-ification. Fanfic also experiments with genre: a noir rewrite makes the 'bad' character pragmatic and necessary; a domestic slice-of-life turns cruelty into loneliness; a romance softens edges while still keeping flaws honest.

What feels most delightful is the community aspect. In threads, I’ve watched readers collectively rummage through canonical gaps and shout, “What if they had a brother?” or “Did anyone notice that look in episode three?” That collaborative mythmaking produces retcons, alternate timelines, and spin-offs where formerly unloved figures become found family anchors. It's not just wish fulfillment—it's critique and healing. Reimagining undesirables into heroes lets us interrogate labels our favorite media hands out, and it gives writers a playground to explore accountability, growth, and complexity. Sometimes I close a long night of writing and feel like I’ve rescued a character from a single bad chapter of their life—maybe that’s the real magic, and maybe I’ll write one more scene before bed.

What Soundtrack Tones Suit Scenes With Undesirables?

2 Answers2025-08-27 03:12:49

There’s something delicious about scoring a scene full of undesirables — the kind of people who make you glance twice at the corners of a frame. I like starting from texture rather than melody: low-end drones, metallic scrapes, and a slow, irregular pulse give a room the smell of danger and dirt. Think sub-bass you can feel in your teeth paired with sparse, brittle percussion (a hand-rubbed tambourine, a distant rattling chain). Those elements create space for the viewer’s imagination to fill in the moral rot without the music spelling everything out.

For revealed threats or tension that’s about to snap, I reach for dissonant strings and brass stabs. A tight interval — minor seconds, tritones, or a cluster thrown across violins — makes the ear itch in the same way a character’s stare does. Contrast that with moments of false calm: a lone, slightly out-of-tune piano, reverb-heavy, playing slow intervals in a Phrygian mode, or a muted, noir electric guitar with lots of spring reverb. If you want a modern edge, layer in industrial textures or dark synth pads à la 'Blade Runner' to hint at cold bureaucracy behind the grime.

Placement matters as much as tone. For entrances, short, rhythmic motifs (staccato bass hits or a clicky hi-hat pattern) can mark a villain’s steps without announcing them fully. During confrontations, drop the music out for a beat to let diegetic sound—metal chair scrape, a cigarette tap—land harder, then bring a low, humming bed back in under the dialogue. For aftermaths, the palette shifts: thin, high-register instruments (glass harmonica, bowed cymbal) suggest moral emptiness or a lingering threat. I love borrowing moods from 'No Country for Old Men' and 'Se7en'—they show how silence and restraint can be more frightening than a full orchestra.

Lastly, don’t forget cultural or situational color. A back-alley deal in a port city can carry maritime percussion and accordion flourishes; an urban drug den benefits from grimey hip-hop sub-bass and chopped vocal samples. Always consider the camera’s perspective: close-ups hunger for intimate, sparse scoring; wide shots let you breathe with broader, environmental textures. When the music and picture breathe together, the undesirables feel palpably alive — or deliciously dead inside, depending on what the scene needs.

How Do Adaptations Censor Undesirables From Source Books?

3 Answers2025-08-27 17:43:48

When a beloved novel or comic gets adapted, the first thing I notice is what's been quieted rather than what’s been shouted from the rooftops. Adaptations censor undesirables for a messy mix of reasons — legal limits, broadcast standards, advertiser comfort, and the desire to hit a certain age rating — and the tools they use are surprisingly creative. They’ll mute profanity, cut explicit sex scenes, and shift graphic violence off-screen. Sometimes an entire subplot that dealt with a taboo subject is excised, or a character’s queerness or ethnicity is downplayed to avoid backlash in certain markets. Creators also use implication: a close-up, a change in music, or a lingering shot of an empty room can carry what the camera won’t show.

I’ve seen this firsthand on a long-haul flight where the version of a film was noticeably tamed — bloodless fight choreography, lines re-dubbed, and a romantic scene left intentionally chaste. That made me grumpy as a purist, but it also made me notice the adaptation’s different interest: it was less about shock and more about moral consequence. Beyond technical trims, adaptations frequently reframe perspective — telling the story through a less controversial character, or changing the ending to soften a critique. If you love both formats, I’m always for tracking down director’s cuts, translated editions, or the original book: the differences tell you as much about culture, market forces, and creative priorities as they do about the story itself.

How Do Authors Portray Undesirables In Dystopian Novels?

2 Answers2025-08-27 01:01:37

When writers tag people as 'undesirables' in dystopias, it almost always feels like watching society pick at a scab—messy, deliberate, and meant to teach everyone else a lesson. I love how authors layer this: there’s usually a linguistic move first (new labels, euphemisms), then visual markers (badges, shaved heads, color-coded clothing), and finally procedural dehumanization (curfews, rationing, removal from records). Reading '1984' after a long day, I kept picturing the way language itself becomes a weapon—if you strip someone of words, you strip their reality. That’s one of the cruellest tools on the page, because it’s slow and bureaucratic, and we almost don’t feel it happening until it’s too late.

Another tactic that hooked me is moral framing through fear. Authors often create crises—overpopulation, disease, crime waves—and then point the finger at a group as the root cause. In 'Brave New World' and 'The Handmaid’s Tale' you can see how the state normalizes exclusion as protection. I’ve been in book clubs where arguing over whether the protagonists are truly sympathetic becomes the main event; that conversation always circles back to how the author positions the 'undesirable' as both victim and scapegoat. That tension—are they dangerous, or are they simply different?—drives the story and makes you squirm because it forces you to consider who gets labeled in your own world.

Sometimes the portrayal is compassionate, sometimes it’s horrific, but the best novels force empathy by shifting perspective. 'Never Let Me Go' broke me because it humanized so vividly people society treated as expendable. Other works make the exclusion grotesque and undeniable, like the barcoded collars in 'The Hunger Games' or the exile trains in 'Snowpiercer'. I find myself jotting lines in the margins, or pausing to think about modern parallels: who in my city gets ignored, policed, or erased? Authors aren’t just showing us villains—they’re showing systems. And that’s what keeps me reading late into the night: the hope that literature can wake us up enough to change the script for real people, not just fictional undesirables—maybe even start with small, stubborn acts of recognition in everyday life.

What Makes Undesirables Sympathetic In Manga Character Arcs?

2 Answers2025-08-27 08:43:17

There’s something quietly contagious about rooting for the person everyone else calls dangerous or broken. For me that spark usually flips on when a mangaka lets the undesired character breathe in small, human moments—an offhand smile while nobody’s looking, a ritual they cling to, a kindness that contradicts their reputation. I was sitting on a late-night train once, reading 'Tokyo Ghoul' on my phone, and the way Kaneki’s private anxieties were drawn—the awkward way he holds a book, the smallness of his hands in close-ups—turned what could have been a monstrous plot device into a painfully sympathetic person. Those tiny details make a reader slow down, feel the friction between image and label, and suddenly the “undesirable” isn’t a schematic villain anymore but someone with routines and regrets.

Technically, creators build sympathy through layered context. A slow drip of backstory that reframes past actions, moments of vulnerability, and juxtaposition against worse cruelty are all classic moves. But it’s not just what’s told; it’s how. Panel composition, silence between speech bubbles, and art that lingers on the eyes or the hands can telegraph fragility or conflict without spelling it out. Think of 'Monster' where Johan’s calm, almost mundane gestures make his chilling acts more tragic and uncanny. Or 'Hunter x Hunter' with Meruem’s learning curve toward empathy—those gradual shifts force the reader to reconcile the monster label with emergent humanity.

On a personal level I find my own life experiences act like a lens: being ostracized in school made me sensitive to narratives where the undesired is shaped by neglect or fear rather than inherent evil. When a character’s cruelty traces back to trauma or social rejection, I can’t help but empathize. Redemption arcs help, sure, but so do arcs that simply complicate moral categories—where a character keeps doing awful things but we glimpse motives that are heartbreakingly ordinary: survival, love, shame. That complexity, paired with brilliant visual storytelling and occasional domestic scenes, turns an outsider into someone you want to understand, not just defeat. If you want to spot or craft these moments, look for the quiet contradictions: a villain who cares for a pet, a tyrant’s handwritten letter, a moment of hesitation before a violent choice. Those small human beats are what stay with me long after the last page.

How Do Creators Market Merchandise Featuring Undesirables?

3 Answers2025-08-27 05:37:37

Selling merch built around characters or designs people instinctively recoil from is actually one of my favorite creative puzzles. There’s a whole crowd that loves the gross, the morally messy, or the gloriously ugly — you just have to find the right tone and placement. I usually start by thinking about context: is this item meant to be ironic, a conversation piece, a collectible, or a wearable statement? Framing matters. A creepy plush marketed as a gag gift for Halloween will sell to a different crowd than the same plush marketed as a limited-run art piece with a signed certificate. Packaging, photos, and captions do the heavy lifting; tasteful studio shots make the oddest things feel desirable, while candid, messy photos lean into the humor or shock value.

Community plays a huge role. I’ve seen small fandom groups turn a despised villain into the most-coveted pin because they made inside jokes, fan art, and memeable moments around that character. So creators seed the culture: exclusive Discord drops, hashtag challenges, and early access for superfans. Collaborations with micro-influencers who get the joke — the ones willing to wear something weird on live streams — feel way more authentic than broad celebrity placements. Scarcity helps too: numbered editions, glow-in-the-dark runs, or intentionally imperfect batches increase perceived value and give collectors something to chase.

There’s also a risk-management layer. You have to be mindful of sensitive topics and legal boundaries; sometimes you rework the art into a parody or add a backstory that reframes the character. For real-world retail, channel matters: indie boutiques and convention booths outperform mainstream department stores for this kind of stuff. Personally, I once bought a hideous action figure as a present because the seller’s product story turned it into a hilarious in-joke — that’s the magic of smart positioning, and it’s what makes even the weirdest merch sell out.