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clowningaroundmars · 1 year ago

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Fuck it

Burners hcs

Chuck my beloved 🩵

-Chuck’s anxiety spikes out of control sometimes and so he’s often up and at ‘em even at like 4am just mechanically coding well into the morning just bc he can’t sleep. Other Burners have TRIED to help him fall asleep and they’ve had varying levels of success but no one really knows how to combat Chuck’s insomnia for sure

-Older Chuck smokes weed like a chimney and you cannot convince me otherwise, that boi self medicates like his life depends on it. His whole room be dank as hell

-Messy af room btw, but there is def a method to his madness. Wires and car parts EVERYWHERE tho and also scraps of cloth that he cuts and sews shittily for his LARPing stuff. He still loves it tho

-I love the hcs floating around that he can be very assertive when he wants to be, and likes to take control every now and then :) I’ll leave it at that for now :)

-Chuck tried making a racing game for the Burners, and he got so far as figuring out how to model everyone’s cars but eventually gave up on that passion project after the race in Blonde Thunder. Even just being behind a virtual wheel was too distressing for him LOL

-He’s canonically a cyborg and spends time looking up, downloading, modifying random codes for his own internal wiring. He “mods” himself sometimes and as anxious as he can be, he’s very confident in his programming skills and trying out sketchy codes on himself

-That being said, he’s kinda insecure about being part-robot. No one but him and maybe Mike knows exactly how much of him is metal, and how much of him is organic. He keeps that info to himself bc of self-doubt. Who knows how the rest of the Burners will treat him if they knew? It’s bad enough that he doesn’t know how to drive!

-Besides programming, Chuck actually does try to take up a bunch of other hobbies like learning to play a guitar, a keyboard, trying to improve his sewing skills so he doesn’t just make messy stitches on LARPing costumes, painting, doodling etc etc but like Mike always says “sometimes being a Burner can get in the way of personal stuff”

-PIERCED CHUCK PROPAGANDA!!! I definitely buy into it!! Chuck may hate getting tattoos but this dude gets pierced up later on, I JUST KNOW IT. He has a cool collection of piercings on his ears (daith, triple helix, industrial, orbital etc etc) as well as tongue piercings and… other piercings 😏

-I truly believe that Chuck ran away to MC first— before Mike— and then they met up again there when Chuck heard about a “cadet who saved an apartment full of ppl”

-He ran away in the 1st place after believing that he “lost” Mike when Mike got promoted from being a jr cadet to a full cadet. They hung out together a lot less after that and Chuck couldn’t ignore the evil he was finding as he was training to be part of R&D… so he dipped, terrified and lonely

-Jacob “adopted” Chuck immediately after taking pity on him. One could only watch a scrawny blonde kid stumble around Motorcity and get picked on for so long lol

-That makes Chuck Thee Original Burner!! Fight me about it

-Chris P. confirmed that Chuck knew about cars even while living up in Deluxe, often bragging about how well he’d drive if he ever got in one. It was Chuck who introduced the concept of cars and driving to Mike in the 1st place when they were younger

-Chuck is JUST AS protective of Mike as Mike is of the Burners, that’s his childhood friend!

Mike 💚

-Has his cadet days drilled into his bones unfortunately, this poor guy always does his bed up military style, wakes up at 6am SHARP every single day and works out first thing in the morning. Still, the routine helps a lot and it’s one of the only habits he appreciates from his past

-Has nightmares not too often but… when they hit, they hit bad. Sometimes he just decides not to sleep at all and just joins Chuck on a couch somewhere

-I truly believe he has ADHD!! I’m integrating that into my belief system fuck it

-Bc of that, he often forgets to take care of himself. And not even in the bad I’m-gonna-do-this-dangerous-thing-that-might-kill-me kinda way (well most of the time) but the oops-I-forgot-to-eat-and-it’s-been-8-hrs-since-my-last-meal kinda way. Chuck definitely helps remind him to eat and take breaks, otherwise Mike’s gonna jump into another hours-long errand run across Motorcity without even eating a peanut

-Mike’s super grateful for Chuck, they’re opposites in the way where they complete each other. Chuck eats CONSTANTLY and likes to nap often, Mike basically paces himself on Chuck’s schedule when he’s feeling all out of wack and can’t take care of himself. Chuck happily bosses Mike around and makes him do some self care when this happens

-Older Mike might have some reservations about drugs n shit (good ol Deluxe conditioning in his skull) but he’s not an asshole to other ppl about it. That being said, this mf smokes cigs like a chimney and loves them. Cigarettes are the only thing he smokes, he doesn’t like being not-sober bc it makes him feel like he’s out of control (and the Terras drugging him in “Mayhem Night” didn’t help with that either lol)

-Where Chuck’s room is messy and chaotic, Mike’s room is scarily perfect. He stress cleans so ofc his room is gonna look pristine! Neatly folded sheets and shoes all in a straight line near the door, clothes all hung up perfectly in his closet just like in his cadet days. Not a wrinkle or a spot to be seen anywhere

-Likes to garden as a stress-reliever as well. Mike’s gotta use his hands and get his body moving or else he’ll Explode. He joins Jacob in his supermarket or just does chores around the garage whenever he can

-Burners know that the neater the hideout looks, the worse Mike’s mental health is tho. It sucks, they’re still figuring out how to help calm him down sometimes

-Funny, but for a guy who’s so sunny and upbeat all the time, Mike fuckin LOVES scary dark music. Grindcore and black metal are his top fave genres, much to Chuck’s chagrin. Chuck doesn’t hate metal, it’s just that listening to terrifying hardcore music while Mike’s doing donuts mid-air in Mutt after going 325mph absolutely doesn’t help calm his nerves

-Mike is… not very good with emotional stuff. He’s also shown in the show to be a lil short-sighted and DUMB as hell when it comes to taking social cues (the employee at the refinery acting weird and CLEARLY reading from a cue card in “The Duke of Detroit Presents…”, Chuck’s personality doing a total 180 IMMEDIATELY after Julie brings in the Kaneco booster… like Mike why in gods name would you miss those obvious signs) and it’s probably bc he was trained to be emotionally stunted as a military boy. He still tries his best tho <3

Dutch 💜

-Chuck and Dutch are the bestest buds aside from Chuck n Mike, don’t @ me. They work on the Burners’ cars all the time, how could they not be! Dutch is always giving Chuck props on wiring and upgrading the cars and Chuck thinks that Dutch’s designs and mechanical skills are godly

-Dutch eventually takes their art off the paper and walls and moves onto tattooing after seeing so many Motorcitizens rocking cool art on their arms. They start just like any other teen tho: shitty stick n pokes

-Eventually, the other Burners want tattoos on themselves too (well not Chuck cuz he’s a weenie LOL) and Dutch is more than happy to provide. Even Mike asks for one, much to everyone’s surprise. Julie gets a couple tiny ones where she can easily hide it from her dad. And everyone gets a Burner tat, absolutely

-Ok yeah I also integrate “Dutch is an enby” into my belief system. Sue me. He doesn’t believe in the concept of gender, just goes by he/they for convenience but I really think he doesn’t give a single fuck about it all otherwise

-They start learning from Tennie after going steady in their relationship, and they bring back all the sweet Cabler’s knowledge into the Burners’ car upgrades

-Claire and Dutch start chatting about fashion one day while Julie runs off and leaves them to hang out. After that, Dutch is much more mindful of his wardrobe and even hits her up sometimes to swap fashion ideas and tips

-They love customizing like, everything ever that they can get their hands on. Dutch’s room is for sure the most tricked-out one in the hideout, complete with custom furniture, decked out wall of lights (that Chuck helped program to feature Dutch’s art on it) and more art on the walls than anywhere else in the garage. It’s Dutch’s own slice of heaven

-Older Dutch also partakes in the smoking of the zaza, so him and Chuck just chill out in their lil weed corner outside (bc Mike and Julie hate the smell so no smoking indoors!) just puffing on blunts and showing off new bowls and bongs that they recently bought

-Dutch goes to Chuck to figure out how to establish a private non-traceable line so he can call his family every now and then without alerting Kane grunts. He updates them about stuff (and privately tells Dar about Tennie lol)

-Dutch picked up ROTH’s body after a battle against the Kane bots, intending on studying the metal polymer stuff Kaneco makes to use on the Burners’ cars. But then ROTH woke up, the battle completely wiping his intended functional coding and shocking the hell out of Dutch. But ROTH didn’t attack, and then slowly but surely everyone got used to having a floating Kanebot cluelessly wandering around the base. Dutch decided to paint the bot so he doesn’t keep surprising everyone LOL

Julie 💛

-She’s a weeb idgaf if everyone else thinks so too, it’s my hc now. She pirates and downloads shitty old anime onto drives with Chuck’s help and brings them up to Deluxe so she can watch them in secrecy

-Julie has a room in Deluxe ofc but she also has one built for her down in Motorcity as well. She thinks that the room that she has freedom to decorate and customize is way more “her”. She’s got anime figurines, posters that Dutch painted for her (featuring her fave anime characters ofc), plushies practically spilling out from the shelves, and she’s so happy that she gets to have a room where she can really be free!

-Julie pops the collar of her vest, inspired by Mike

-Idk what kinda music is allowed in Deluxe (probably nOT MUCH) but anyways Julie discovers pop and techno in Motorcity and literally cannot shut up about it afterwards. The other Burners do not really share her enthusiasm for Kpop but they try to be supportive nonetheless

-Jules is oddly enthusiastic about music in general. How could she not be, after hearing only pleasant elevator music all her life? She obsesses over playlists and makes ALL the playlists for the Burners

-She’s the sentimental one for sure. She hoards more stuff in her room in MC than in Deluxe but either way, wherever she makes a space for herself, it’ll always be filled with photos and doodles and lil gifts she receives from other ppl. Even 9Lives has a couple toy charms dangling from mirrors and compartments lol

-Julie loves makeup and painting nails, something she got from Claire. She tried to hide it away from the Burners to “fit in” and then immediately blew that cover once Dutch broke out the nail polish and started to paint their nails one day. After that, she teams up with them to paint everyone’s nails and does cute designs

-She DID know about Mike before formally meeting him after he defected. Ofc, she’s always been observant even tho Kane always tried to hide her away from the public. After Mike ran away to MC, Julie watched it all go down from her dad’s security cams and followed him down there. She has to pretend she doesn’t even know much about Mike, despite having access to his files

-Mike and Julie are The Shippers and wingmen of the group FOR SURE. I know this is kinda canon but idc, you can’t convince me they don’t get together and gossip about other ppl’s relationships all the time. Mike only knows about other ppl having crushes just bc of how observant Jules is

-Julie’s stolen cop car isn’t from Deluxe, it’s from a junkyard in Motorcity. Cops were disbanded in MC a while ago— courtesy of the gangs lol— so that meant easy pickings for Julie

Texas ❤️

-Born and raised in Motorcity (confirmed by creator), Texas helped run his family’s automotive business fixing up cars from junkyards and selling them/their parts (mostly to the Duke lbr). He was the only Burner who had a car even before the Burners formed

-He was The Ride before Mike and Chuck finally built up Mutt and got her running properly, but his car wasn’t Stronghorn just yet, just a custom car cobbled up from various other car parts that he borrowed from his dad

-I truly do believe Texas has a huge family with like a million siblings and that’s why he’s able to get away for long periods of time and do crazy stuff with the Burners all the time

-Potential angst right there… maybe. Cuz he doesn’t get enough attention at home being one of like… 7 or 8 kids or something 😅

-Chris P. said Texas’ parents are the total opposite of him and are intellectuals. Maybe they’re also from Deluxe (R&D even) and couldn’t see themselves having children safely there after Kane went crazy with power, so they ran away to MC and gave birth to their kids there. For as long as Texas can remember, his dad ran the auto shop and his mother headed the Motorcity development council. His parents are VERY involved in the community but… not very involved with the family

-I LOVE the idea that Texas and his siblings are all named after the states. I feel like Alaska, Iowa, Delaware, Georgia, Arizona, Nevada, Dakota, Nebraska… even Maine are cute names!

-Yknow what… those all sound like girl names lowkey. What if Texas is the ONLY brother in his family which is why he hams up his masculinity so much? Hc accepted. Texas and his 7 sisters, I dig it

-Hear me out. Texas initially taught Dutch the basics of constructing a car, transferring and modifying engines, etc etc but Dutch is a smart cookie and eventually their knowledge surpassed Texas’

-Texas is the movie buff of the group and fucken loves sci-fi, old westerns, martial arts, noir and thriller movies. His room is overflowing with movie memorabilia, posters, and shitty crayon doodles of his movie heroes. Any time he’s got downtime he’s always on his lil VR movie headset goggles rewatching something called “5 Dragons of the West: Journey to the Gold Snake” or something

-Texas, like Julie, doesn’t live in the Burners Hideout since he always just goes home after the end of the day. Only Mike, Dutch, and Chuck live there full-time. Julie has the room she stays in sometimes, Texas crashes on a couch (probably where his workout gear is) if he’s too tired to drive back home

-Mike got his adrenaline junkie habits from riding in Texas’ car before building Mutt

-Older Texas absolutely gets tatted up. AND he starts wearing more muscle shirts to show them off ofc!

-Texas is ridiculously emotionally intelligent, even tho he’s a knucklehead most of the time and I believe it’s bc he’s got a ton of siblings. He’s also one of the middle children too, so he’s capable around lil kids as well

-Texas can’t spell bc he’s dyslexic

-Junior and Texas absolutely have SOME history together. Maybe they even grew up together, as that’s not so far-fetched since ppl might buy cars from Texas’ dad’s shop to enter the competitions in the Mama’s Boys Arena

Jacob 💙

-Obviously The Dad of the group of ragtag kids. Mike and Chuck aren’t the only kids that Jacob’s helped out of the rubble of MC, but they are the only ones who stuck around. Yes, Jacob’s an old crazy coot but he has endless patience and plenty of seaweed casseroles for everyone :)

-Motorcitizens know him as The One Who Helps Orphans, specifically ex-Deluxians since he’s one of the only elders who’s been up in Deluxe and didn’t disappear amongst the Motorcity population yet. In “Off the Rack” there’s a split-second where Jacob’s shown greeting the recent Deluxian defectors at Antonio’s, I feel like he takes responsibility over helping Deluxians integrate into MC

-Bc of that, he’s got some p sweet connects across the city. Jacob’s got doctors and nurses, librarians with info, and resources all on speed dial just for the kiddos

-Jacob was the 1st person to show Mike what a car was irl and showed him how to drive in Sasquatch. It was Mike and Chuck who figured out how to build Mutt in the 1st place tho, and they took lots of inspo from the old car magazines lying around Jacob’s office in the supermarket

-The lil haunted house the Burners built for Halloween for the kids of MC was Jacob’s idea :)

-Doc Hudson and Jacob absolutely hook up after Hudson gets settled in MC, sue me. If you cringe at the idea of two old men bumping uglies, you are weak and will not survive the winter

-MC basically celebrates every holiday with a parade or a giant block party somehow, and the city’s first Pride Parade did not disappoint. Jacob made sure to sign the kids up for a spot in the parade and helped them build the float. It got crashed by Kanebots (of course) but the Burners saved the day (again!)

-Jacob stays away from the Burners’ main living space but still lives close by to check in on them every now and then. But he gives the boys their privacy for the most part

-Jacob DOES have Texas’ parents on speed dial as well. Which he uses to threaten Texas into behaving every now and then, but it’s no use. Everyone knows he never calls anyone’s parents unless it’s an emergency lol

#motorcity #mine #we ballin like it’s 2012 tumblr baybeeeee #is this fandom even still alive? doesn’t matter cuz I’m sliding in with these hcs idgaf!!!!!#thx for reading this novel if you did idk #if you didn’t and just skipped to your fave character that’s also valid #understandable have a nice day!#also #long post #REALLY LONG POST #enjoy :)#mike chilton #julie kane #dutch gordy #chuck motorcity #texas motorcity #jacob motorcity

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 4 years ago

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More Headcanon Stuff

Since everyone likes my post about Permits and shit: Here’s more BNHA World Building I use for fics!

Hero School: The Actual Hardest School to Get Into

UA is not, as mentioned previously, that hard to get into. It’s based on a statistic taken out of context, and also because almost the entire country applies but doesn’t get into the hero course.

The hardest school to get into is actually called Shīrudo Academy and is an intelligence-based heroics school.

The exam is twelve hours long and you must get a ninety percent to be allowed in.

The graduates of this school go on to enter the intelligence-based heroics field. They train for years, learning undercover tactics, code work, information gathering and interrogation techniques.

Shīrudo Academy is one of five hero-based programs that do not just include high school but also university. Meaning, you enter the Academy and then leave Shīrudo Institute before you are considered finished.

Second Chance High School-University

Okay not translated because I can’t find like a good translation for this.

Anyway, SC is a high school/university geared towards potential heroes who have black marks on their records, or have criminal records.

SC does NOT accept those who have: Sold drugs, committed Sexual Assault or committed First Degree Murder.

SC is meant to help those who have potential as heroes but have things holding them back. Like Shirudo they are a combination high school and university program. They operate on a ‘Ten Strike’ program in which you have ten attempts to change your ways before they expel you.

They take extreme cases, or on occasion get transfers due to the Red Flag Protocol.

Red Flag Protocol

I fully believe while most hero schools are allowed to run how they want- UA a prime example- there are some general policies or rules.

One of them I call the ‘Entitled Brat’ rule or as it’s called officially ‘Red Flag Protocol’.

Red Flag Protocol is when a student…

-displays signs of extreme violent behaviour

-acts shocked upon being reprimanded

-refuses to listen to teachers or ignores reprimands, acting like it’s a jok when walking into detention

-being shocked to be actually punished and attempting to argue

-displays Quirkist behaviour to Quirkless individuals or those with ‘weaker Quirks’.

-attempts to establish a hierarchy with them at the top and enable them to bully others.

-displays illegal behaviour

-displays sexual harassment to others

The Red Flag Protocol is used in hero courses as there are multiple cases a year when problematic, disturbing or illegal behaviour is noticed in students who had entered the school.

This is due to the status that is given to middle schools that comes from having someone from their school become a hero. As well, there is a monetary fund given to middle schools when they have a student make it a year in a hero course program for high school.

With an emphasis on strong Quirks and brash personalities, it’s no schock that these have become a protocol to watch out for these behaviours.

The student operates on a five-strike program when placed into the protocol. Five strikes, they’re either removed from the hero course or transferred to SC.

Anti-Cheating Board

The ACB is a board sent out when allegations of cheating are made on any test, or when a complaint is lodged that someone is accused of cheating without proof. It is not just for Hero Schools but also for any schools.

The ACB is made up mostly of people who are able to either detect lies or force people to tell the truth. All possess Job Specific Permits for their Quirks.

The ACB is always working because there are a lot of cheating allegations. In recent history, the Aldera school came under fire for accusing a student of cheating fifteen times and had the ACB called in. Now, they have a member of ACB come in to oversee all testing done to prove no cheating is occuring. The school was fined for their Quirkist views due to the student in question being Quirkless.

Homeschooling Program

According to my research, Japan doesn’t allow homeschooling, however, with Quirks I propose that there are some Quirks that could pose a risk to other students. Such as: Quirks that require equipment that if damaged could cause death, injury or other. Or sentient Quirks that are near impossible to control.

Children with dangerous Quirks as well are allowed to be homeschooled. However once control to a reasonable level has been reached, the child is required to enter regular school.

A small scandal came about when Endeavour, Number Two Hero, attempted to have his youngest classified as someone with a dangerous Quirk that required more training. It was proven to be false and Endeavour fined for false filing.

Dangerous Quirk Regulation Bureau

The DC is responsible for tracking those whose Quirks are regarded as a Class 9 on the Quirk Scale. Any Quirk that can cause death or injury or cannot be turned off that influences others is under their view and they monitor them. They provide funds if needed to help control their Quirk.

Often these people enter into Heroics or Military service due to the fact they are regulated.

Quirk Scale

The Quirk Scale is a scale meant to measure how dangerous a Quirk is. (A lot of this is kinda vague so I use examples)

Class 1: Minor Quirk that only affects the person using it. Does not affect anyone or anything else. Example: Colour Changing Eyes.

-Exceptions are caused for those who while their Quirk does not affect anyone else, it can make them unnoticable. Example: Shapeshifting. Spinner resides here. Nezu resides here to only on a technicality that he loves to debate with the Bureau on. They gave up and just slap him with a ‘Class 1 but Class 9 danger’ label.

Class 2: A Quirk that affects other people or things outside the body. However is low-powered and does not negatively affect others without it being on purpose. Example: a low level teleckentic or someone can make a small flame but barely enough to roast a marshmallow.

-Note: Ojiro actually technically is in this category as his Quirk can affect others but requires it being on purpose.

Class 3: Quirks that affect others or things with greater power. A telekentic able to lift larger weights or a fire user able to produce more fire.

-Hagakure is here because while her Quirk only affects her, it can also enable her to spy on others. Sato is here to, along with Sero, Jiro, Asui, and Shouji. Kirishima and Iida are in this category due to a technicality on the fact they can harm others by using their Quirk in negative ways. Otherwise they would be level 1. Similar with Twice.

Class 4: A quirk that only affects others and not themselves but isn’t considered very powerful.

-Note: Kouda actually is here as Anivoice affects animals. Technically he should be a level 6 but as it is animals he was ranked 4. (This changes when they get older though) Mr. Compress and Magne are here to.

Class 5: A quirk that can affect others or cause harm in a way that is more harmful than a class 4.

-Toga is here. Stain as well. Ochako is to. Bakugou resides here to.

Class 6: A Quirk that affects others in ways that are considered to be removing part of their autonomy.

-Aizawa is here. As is Shinsou.

Class 7: A Quirk that can cause damage to an extreme level to others or can affect someone in a way that is regarded as high level.

-Recovery Girl is here. As is All Might, Midoriya, Todoroki, and Endeavour.

Class 8: A Quirk that can cause extreme damage to others or themselves, or a sentient Quirk that does in fact have a downside.

-Kaminari and Dark Shadow are here. Dabi is to. Overhaul and Eri also are here.

Class 9: A Quirk that either can cause death or grievous bodily harm that either cannot be controlled at all, or requires specialized equipment.

-Present Mic and Thirteen are here along with Shigaraki.

Random Laws

Just a few random laws.

Hero School Law of Custody: A Law that states a hero school is awarded partial custody of any student accepted into the school. This law is in place to prevent a parent from pulling a student from the school recklessly or to prevent any contracts being signed without permission from the student. The Hero School may also pull any student from their parents if it is believed to be in their best interest.

Sidekick Law of Emancipation: If anyone under the age of majority earns a sidekick license they are automatically emancipated.

Law of Accidental Death by Quirk: A law that prevents anyone from being charge with murder if they have accidently caused death by their Quirk. For an example, I have an OC called Gas Attack who breathes out deadly gas. She would be protected under this law if her breathing support item that lets her breath the gas into a container that neutralizes it breaks. Or, if Bakugou as a toddler accidentally killed someone with an explosion. Shigaraki would have also been covered under this law when he killed his family.

#bnha #bnha meta #bnha headcanon #worldbuilding

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fellowstrangetownappreciator · 4 years ago

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Curious and autistic-coded

Hello there! April draws to an end and with that I think it’s high time to hurry up and write this. What does April have to do with anything, you ask? April is the Autism Acceptance Month. So what better month to do this?

Unfortunately I didn’t make it. I failed. It’s already 1. 5. when I’m posting this. But at least I tried to deliver on time.

In this mini essay I’ll present my case about why I think the Curious brothers from TS2 Strangetown display autistic-coded traits and my personal takes on it.

It’s basically your average headcanon post but with a funny top hat!

0: Preface: What do I mean by “autistic-coded”?

When a character is coded as something, it means that they have traits that are associated with the demographics in question to make the consumer knowingly or not link the character with the demographic, although the character's "label” is never explicitly disclosed.

In the nutshell, it means that there are canonical reasons to read the characters as autistic, although you won't find the word "autism" anywhere in the game nor in the developer's commentary.

In this particular case I do believe that the developer may not even be aware of the code, as there is no evidence to suggest otherwise. If there is, I’m not aware of it and I would be happy to learn.

So, let’s start!

1: “The white male who is very good at science”

Unfortunately autistic representation in pop-culture has a long history of being rather straightforward in which traits the characters often have. This stems from the belief that autism is “a boy’s disorder” (that’s why some autism charities to this day use blue in their symbols). Among popular examples of autistic-coded characters are Big Bang Theory’s Sheldon Cooper and Death Note’s L and Near. I’m sure you can think of more but you’ll find that most of them are men and either explicitly white or racially ambiguous white-passing. They also tend to be gifted in tech, logic or other science-y activities.

There’s nothing wrong with that! Nothing wrong with being an autistic with those “stereotypical” characteristics and there is nothing wrong with people being represented. What is wrong is the monotony and afab people/people of color being underrepresented which leads (among other factors) to harder access to diagnosis and resources for those people in real life. But! That’s a topic for a different day. (and not for a simbrl, mind you)

Back to the Curiouses! I just wanted to say that autism in media is traditionally associated with characters whose gender presentation, race and interests align with theirs. Those characteristic thus make a very convenient template for autistic-coding.

2: Inconsistent performance, huge gaps between strengths and weaknesses

Pascal, Vidcund and Lazlo are very skilled Sims by default, extraordinarily even for their age. Pascal has a skill maxed while his younger brothers both near maxing theirs.

But as you can see in Pascal’s default skill panel, apart from Creativity, all his other skills are extremely low, 0 points for Mechanical, Body and Charisma, 1 point for Cooking and Logic and his second best skill, Cleaning, has only 3 points. The same situation can be observed in Vidcund’s and Lazlo’s, except their strong suits are Logic and Cooking respectively.

Huge discrepancies within performance in different cognitive areas is a common trait found in those on the autism spectrum. We’re often talking extremes here and the scale of the difference is the defining factor. Everyone has their strengths and weaknesses, it’s just in neurodivergent people those tend to be unusually noticeable.

I think that skills, simplified as they are, are the closest The Sims has to possibly simulate that because they track the character’s performance and expertise in different areas and allow comparison. In real life, of course, this comparison is not nearly as possible and exact, nor desired, but for all our analysis-loving enthusiasm, here we’re still talking fictional characters.

3: Struggle with social cues

It is widely known that one of autistic traits are difficulties with processing social situations, picking social cues and successfully replicating socially desired behavioral patterns.

But these three are Sims, are they not? They cannot possibly display this trait, since they’re programmed the same way as others.

Yes and no.

It is true that there is no specific in-game feature that would allow Sims to behave with explicit neurodivergency in mind* but with the right combination of traits they can simulate behavior that really hits close to home for neurodivergent players.

*at least not in TS2, TS3 has traits that simulate some possible neurodivergencies but their names tend to be rather... ableist unfortunate and they’re not relevant to this post since they’re not autism related, and even if they were, we’re focusing on TS2 exclusively

Let’s take look at Lazlo here. He is, indeed, a playful soul. He likes to goof around, tell jokes, make others laugh. And since he’s very close to his brother Vidcund, close enough even to Tell Dirty Joke (an interaction that needs quite a high relationship to unlock), he autonomously does just that.

And oh boy, does Vidcund disapprove.

From my personal experience playing them, their relationship usually takes quite a hit from every cheeky joke Lazlo throws Vid’s way. They usually autonomously repair it very quick but it happens often.

But that’s a standard behavior. Vidcund’s very serious, he doesn’t take well to jokes.

No. I mean technically yes, Vid is definitely a grumpy old plant dad but, at least in my game, he tends to accept Lazlo’s jokes. All kinds of them, actually, except for the dirty ones. And Pascal, who technically has even lower Playful points (0 in comparison to Vidcund’s 4), doesn’t seem to mind Lazlo’s poor attempts at grown-up humor.

But! What is it that makes Lazlo try still? What drives him to attempt to make Vidcund laugh with a dirty joke over and over again? (and fail?)

I my interpretation, Lazlo doesn’t do that on purpose, he is just really poor at evaluating “dirtiness” of a given joke and frequently misinterprets Vidcund’s cues. The animation of a dirty joke being rejected even supports that as Vid doesn’t signal his discomfort with any exaggerated easy-to-read facial expression until Lazlo gets to his punchline.

No only that but as I mentioned, the invisible lines between spicy and too vulgar are often hard to thread. I can recall many times I thought I was saying a witty quip on an “adult” topic and was met with awkward silence or someone shushing me because “that’s not how you speak in public”. I can well imagine myself in Lazlo’s shoes.

A situation of social cues being misinterpreted or ignored can be observed also in Vidcund. Programming-wise, those are just his low Niceness and extreme Shyness showing but combined they again paint a picture of a very neurodivergent-looking behavioral pattern.

He often behaves like the concept of politeness or social rules doesn’t exist because the combination of the aforementioned traits makes him come off very blunt (lecturing and shoving telescope-peepers with no warning whatsoever) and distant (having a high chance of rejecting simple small-talk socials).

(That’s Jasmine Rai casting the “Summon Vidcund” spell.)

Yes, I am fully aware that it makes a stronger case for him being an a**hole than autistic but... there’s no reason he can’t be both. Not all autistic people are sweet cinnamon buns, all personalities you can think of can be neurodiverse and, for some their neurodiversity can even amplify their inconsiderate ways, as I believe it is the case with our dear grouch Vidcund.

4. Their bios

“No matter what happens, Pascal believes there is a logical explanation for everything. In his free time, he practices home psychoanalysis and collects conspiracy theories.”

(that’s how I imagine practicing psychoanalysis looks like, sorry Freud)

“Serious and exact, Vidcund strives to fit the universe into a nice tidy package. He has an unnatural fondness for African violets.”

(let’s collectively pretend those are African violets)

“Not as studious as his older brothers, Lazlo got his degree in Phrenology. He likes to call phone psychics and spends hours trying to bend forks with his mind.”

*error: screenshot of Lazlo bending forks not found*

(but here he is hanging out with Erin Beaker, the closest thing to “calling phone psychics” you can actually do in-game)

Both Pascal’s and Vidcund’s bios point to a pattern-focused worldview with a strong emphasis on rationality as the center-point that anchors the way they understand the world around them and build their principles on. This “pattern-ization” of thinking is a common autistic trait, with rationality being a popular theme because emotions tend to be difficult to access and asses for many of us.

Lazlo’s biography is an outlier. But it still has something significant in common with those of his brothers: All three of their bios allude to a potential special interest of sorts.

Special interests as an autism-related term are very specific, in-depth and long-term hobbies or areas of expertise that make an autistic person happy and they tend to go to seemingly exhausting lengths, often at the cost of other areas of knowledge and most likely the person’s ability to talk about anything else for a long enough time. (a loving hyperbole, no disrespect meant) Mine are my characters and cats. An even more intense but a short(er)-term passion is called a hyperfixation.

Them potentially having a special interest is yet another possible autistic-coded feature.

5. Wait. Why does it matter?

Right. What does it matter if a Sim (A SIM) (or two or three) is autistic? What do I hope to achieve, pushing my autistic Curiouses agenda down your throats?

I got to write a long rant-piece about some of my favorite TS characters and I feel like I can finally die satisfied.

Apart from that and me sharing my happiness of finding some good pixels I can relate to, it is a matter of representation.

Remember by the very beginning I wrote how most of the representation our community gets in media tends to be just a one specific type of character?

And how the Curious brothers seem to fit the stereotype to a point?

There is something I omitted, something I saved for the last on purpose.

The role. The role in their story, the role in the society the piece of media portrays.

We often see neurodiverse, autistic or autistic-coded character as children, students, villains, lone savants, victims in distress, comedic relief sidekicks, either very vulnerable and needing protection, or detached and having their role defined only by their academic prowess or their special interest/profession.

What we rarely get to see them as, are... parents.

That’s what many of us autistics are or plan to be someday in the future. The dogma around autism has started to dwindle relatively recently and there are little to no examples of autistic adults being the care-givers for once in the media around us.

The Curious brothers are just that. They are chaotic, they are eccentric, they can be a little too much... but they are dutiful and loving fathers/uncles to their little aliens they raise.

They make it work. Even if they face difficulties, even if they don’t exactly fit the standard.

“Sometimes, a family truly can be three brothers raising alien babies, and it’s beautiful.”

It encourages us to define family by love rather than traditional structures and it shows us that portrait of a functional neurodiverse family we need to see.

And goodness, is it a powerful sight.

#the sims 2 #the sims #ts2 #simbrl #pascal curious #vidcund curious #lazlo curious #autism acceptence month #headcanon #actuallyautistic #autistic curiouses agenda #please someone take tumbrl from me

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crystalessenceswrites · 4 years ago

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Burden of the Survivors-- Chapter One

*not my gif*

Burden of the Survivors

Pairs: Din Djarin x fem!reader Rating: T (at the moment- subject to change) Warnings: a little bit of cursing but otherwise fairly tame *no spoilers- takes place in Season 1 timeline* Summary: Mando works alone- except for when he absolutely can’t. There are few people Din trusts – trusts as in he doesn’t expect a viroblade in the back the second he’s turned around. She’s one of them. Just as cautious and nearly as tight lipped about her past as he is, Din doesn’t mind her around too much.

[Masterlist] [Chapter One] [Chapter Two] or Available on AO3

A/N: It’s been ages since I wrote a reader series, I do my best to write them with as non-descriptive reader as possible but if there’s something I miss let me know. Reader does have a backstory and obviously has certain skills sets as a bounty hunter but I don’t believe that will cause any issues going forward. Also thanks to @fishingwithstring & @flyingmarshmallow64 for kinda beta-ing for me

Chapter One--

When you had given the Mandalorian your commlink info you had not thought the stoic man would actually use it. He had a reputation to uphold after all- he couldn’t be seen willingly working with another bounty hunter. You could respect that; the Guild was cutthroat and there never seemed to be enough credits or jobs to go around these days. The New Republic was a blessing and a curse to those trying to make a living in the Outer Rim. Your regular contacts were coming up short on good jobs and everything Karga was offering wasn’t worth the cost of fuel. It all had you wondering if you should take up running with Tillis’s crew again, the cuts were always fair and at least you weren’t burning credits on your own fuel.

Yet despite your initial beliefs, Mando had called, and he’d called with an offer for a job. They were high rollers from the underworld, apparently. Nothing you had not worked before. The first job you had worked with Mando on had been an under the table job from Karga as well. You allowed yourself the slightest bit of pride that after how well you two had worked together, Mando felt you would be a useful addition on this job.

You jumped on the offer. Whatever job Mando had taken had to be worth a decent stack of credits if he was willing to go with an even split. Hopefully, this would be enough to hold you over for a while, maybe pay for a few fixes to your ship while you were at it. The navicomputer could use an update, and there was the leak in the cooling lines that could probably use a proper fix instead of your last patch job… but you were getting ahead of yourself. Mando had asked you to meet him at his ship just outside of town on Navarro, which was convenient considering you had been laying over on the backwater volcanic planet after your last round of bounties. Karga may be cagey but at least he paid you what you were owed in the end.

Mando was waiting for you, leaning against the side of the Razor Crest, looking as much the stoic and hardened warrior as ever when you arrived. Though he had upgraded a bit since you last saw him.

“Looking spiffy Mando! Is that a new pauldron I see?”

He shrugs, pushing off the Razor Crest, “maybe.”

Man of few words, some things never change.

“You mentioned before that we didn’t have much to go off of. What do you know?” Hitching your bag of gear up your shoulder you follow Mando up into the Crest.

It wasn’t the first time you’d been on Mando’s ship, but it amazed you every time you boarded how he managed to keep such a relic up and running. You would not be surprised if it cost him a fortune in repair costs over the years. Sure, your ship wasn’t a spring chicken either, but it had been built within your lifetime.

“Tracking fob.” He quickly fishes the device out of his belt, flashing it at you briefly. “Last known position and age.”

“Wait, not even a chain code?” That was just common courtesy in this line of work, and it kept mix-ups to a minimum. “Just the last four digits?”

Mando nods before clambering up the ladder to the cockpit leaving you stunned. Who exactly were you working for and who were they after?

After ditching your bag in the hull you follow Mando up to the cockpit. “How trustworthy is this client of yours?”

You lean against the doorway, watching him program the ancient navicomputer. “It’s underworld, what do you expect?”

“At least some minimal assurances,” you throw back, “I don’t want to end up a prisoner of the New Republic for the rest of my days if I can’t help it.”

“The chit came through Karga.”

Well, that was the definition of minimally reassuring.

“But no puck?”

Mando shakes his head, or rather, his bucket.

“Well, this will be interesting.”

“Arvala-7, can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.” You’re sitting in the co-pilots chair with your boots propped up against the dash, fiddling with one your rifle sights as Mando attempts to pull planetary info up on his navicomputer.

Your partners huff of displeasure filters through his modulator, you can imagine he’s rolling his eyes behind the visor. Over the course of working together you had managed to pick up on a handful of the man’s cues, his body language was fairly expressive, and irritation with you was one you were aptly familiar with. It had been obvious from your first meeting that the Mandalorian was all work and no play. So, your occasional flippant remarks were not always received well. You were by no means trying to agitate the bounty hunter- you had better self-preservation skills than that- but you were trying to lighten the mood a bit. Two sticks in the mud didn’t make for an entertaining partnership.

Even after a few smacks to the computer Mando cannot seem to pull up the data he wants. His fists clench and unclench rhythmically, the creak of his leather gloves filling the silent cockpit. This one was wound way too tight. You wondered what mandalorians did to relax and unwind, and how exactly could you get him to do that before you landed?

“You’ve got the tracking fob, we aren’t completely screwed, if that’s what you’re all upset about, Mando.”

The helmet snaps around, his black t-visor staring unblinking into your soul.

Maybe that was not the best button to push.

“I’ll- ah, go get my stuff together.” You wince at the crack in your voice but gather up your blaster parts before preparing to shimmy back down into the cargo hold. You were a bounty hunter, same as him. His attitude should not unnerve you like it did. He was human like you after all- or at least you assumed he was- one faceless man should not affect you so strongly. You were better than this.

Master trained you better than this.

“Coming into atmo,” Mando shouts down from the cockpit, “may want to hold onto something.”

The ship lurches forward, throwing you into the back wall. “Thanks for the warning,” you grumble, latching onto the refresher door to stay upright.

Mando comes in quick, the Razor Crest touching down shortly after entering the atmosphere. Moments later the helmeted man is down the ladder, amban sniper rifle in hand and already heading down the ramp. Always in such a rush. The Mandalorian really had no clue as to how to stop and assess a situation or take a moment to breathe.

You scramble over to your bag of gear, assembling one of your own blaster rifles without having to look. It was all second nature now; you know every weapon in your stash like the back of your hand. As you slide the newly fixed sight into place a roar echoes through the ship followed by a loud curse. Down the ramp in seconds your blaster is trained on the approaching creature, ignoring Mando with his arm trapped in the jaw of another felled creature.

The tadpole-shaped beast falls before you pull the trigger, sliding in next to Mando with a bright red electro stun dart sticking out of its side. You let out a sigh as Mando groans, freeing his arm. At least your partner in crime was not out for the count yet.

A third creature approaches, this one saddled and ridden by an aging ugnaught wielding what you can assume was responsible for the stun darts. You lower your blaster, hoping that there would be no quarrel after he seemingly saved Mando.

“Thank you.” Mando’s panting as he stands, his arm clutched tight to his chest.

The ugnaught nods before looking back between you two. “You are bounty hunters.”

“Yes.”

“I will help you.”

You shrug at Mando, if he wanted to assist you with this odd bounty you had qualms.

“I have spoken.”

Kuiil had been more than accommodating to you both at his moisture farm. Offering up his bed to you for the night and sharing his dinner and a warm cup of tea with you both after the sunlight finally fell below the horizon. You jumped at the offer for any food that was not freeze-dried rations or protein bars. Mando on the other hand stiffened when the ugnaught passed him the meal.

“You can use the bedroom to eat, Mando.”

This was not the first time you had run into this problem while working with the Mandalorian. He never took the helmet off around you, not even in the safety of his ship, not to stop and eat while you were drifting along in hyperspace, or to fix up wounds after a particularly nasty fight with a quarry. You wondered if he even took it off to sleep when you were on board with him.

It was not as if you did not understand the draw of a helmet. The lifestyle of the faceless. You own tactical mask offers a small sense of anonymity, bringing some comfort after years of running from your past, but you were not unnaturally attached to it. Whatever tentative relationship you had with Mando; you were comfortable enough to take it off around him. You could eat in his presence. The mask did not inhibit your job or your lifestyle. While it had been ages since you had been in contact with mandalorians-other than the faceless and nameless Mando- you did have shadowy memories of those you had met taking off their helmets in the presence of others. Not that you had dared to ask about it. Your first few meetings had been tense enough and you liked to think you were smart enough to not insult the beskar clad warrior who walked around armed to the teeth.

Kuiil did not ask until Mando had settled into the other room. “He does not remove his helmet in the presence of others?”

“For as long as I’ve known him,” you nod.

“And how long have you known him?”

That was a good question. How many years had it been since you worked that job with Tillis’s crew that introduced you two?

“Four standard years now, maybe?” You ponder, “but we’ve only been working together for about two.”

He nods, looking thoughtful, “like a Mandalorian warrior of old.”

“I suppose,” you shrug.

“You do not agree with his choice?”

“Oh no, my opinions have nothing to do with it. Can’t say it appeals to me, but I respect the restraint it would take to wear a helmet all of your life.”

Kuiil nods before pottering off, cleaning up his small cooking station. You cannot help but smile, the ugnaught reminds you of someone but you cannot recall exactly who. They are just echoes of memories now, a childhood long gone, but something about Kuiil’s wise demeanor picks at them.

Mando returns moments later, shaking you from your melancholy as he takes a seat next to you.

“Many have passed through. They seek the same one as you.”

What kind of job exactly had Mando gotten for you two?

“Did you help them?”

“Yes. They died.”

You gape at the ugnaught, unsure if his honesty was all that helpful now.

“Well then I don’t know if I want your help,” Mando scoffs.

Kuiil shakes his head, “you do. I can show you to the encampment.”

“Encampment?” Who in the galaxy would have an encampment all the way out here and how to Kuiil know about it?

He nods but divulges no further details.

“What’s your cut?”

“Half.”

Your head whips around, Mando had promised you half the cut already, that is why you had agreed to come in the first place.

“Half the bounty to guide? Seems steep.”

“No. Half the blurrg you helped capture.”

You left out the breath you did not realize you had been holding, gaze softening. The blurrg would not be an issue. “I can assure you Mando has no use for a blurrg.”

The helmet nods, “you can keep them both.”

“No. You need them. To ride. The way is impossible to pass without a blurrg mount.”

Mando sounds unconvinced, “I don’t know how to ride blurrg.”

“I have spoken.”

You did not happen to know how to ride a blurrg either, but you decided it would be best for everyone’s health to not mention it as the Mandalorian struggled the next morning to even stay on the creature. Mando had insisted on letting you attempt to ride first. Kuiil had kindly walked you through how to greet the beast and the best way to mount. You had struggled a bit, the tallest point on the blurrg’s back was nearly a head taller than you and required some interesting moves to get to but after some coaching you finally managed to get the hang of it. It was smooth sailing from there. They reacted to the reins about the same as most other animals and their walking rhythm was not too difficult to adjust to. After Kuiil seems satisfied with your progress and let Mando into the ring you thought maybe this job would not be all that bad.

Yet as you watched Mando fly off the blurrg’s back for the umpteenth you decided you had called that much too soon. For a man who always walked with such swagger you did allow yourself to enjoy the scene. Just a little.

Even the patient Kuiil was becoming frustrated with Mando’s slow learning curve.

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet.”

That would never happen.

Mando’s shoulders stiffen, “perhaps he remembers I tried to roast him.”

Kuiil shakes his head, “this is a female. The males are all eaten during mating.”

You try, you really do, but all your willpower combined at the moment is not enough to contain the laugh that bubbles up in your chest. “Ha! They’ve got the right idea.”

Mando’s helmet tilts back just a fraction. He’s rolling his eyes at you.

Kuiil chuckles softly at your side while you stick your tongue out at the bounty hunter. He blatantly ignores you, going in for another attempt at the blurrg. It ends the same of the others, Mando flat on his back in the dust.

You understand he’s frustrated, Mando’s never been the patient type, and just wants to complete the job and get back to working alone. A wound up, frustrated Mandalorian was never a good combo. Your hand hovers over the blaster in your thigh holster as he stalks towards Kuiil, just in case.

“I don’t have time for this,” he snaps at the ugnaught. “Do you have a landspeeder or speeder bike that I could hire?”

“You are a Mandalorian! Your ancestors rode the great Mythosaur. Surely you can ride this young foal.”

Kuiil’s jab at his ancestry is enough to get Mando to try again. You look on as he approaches the blurrg, arms outstretched, murmuring calming words as he goes to pat the creature between its eyes. You would almost describe the scene as gentle. Not a word you’d have ever used to describe the helmeted man in the past. Where had this Mando been hiding all this time?

When you spot the compound in the distance the worries begin to creep up again. You wonder who exactly you were after and what Karga’s underground client wanted with them. People don’t just build fortified compounds on backwater, nearly uninhabited outer rim planets for no reason.

Kuiil points to the structure as the three of you come to a stop, “that is where you’ll find your quarry.”

Mando attempts to give Kuiil a pouch of credits. It was the least he deserved for all the help he’d given you. The ugnaught turns it down.

“Please. You deserve this.”

“Since these ones arrived, this territory has been an endless stream of mercenaries seeking reward and bringing destruction.”

“Then why did you guide us here?” you ask.

“They do not belong here. Those that live here come to seek peace. There will be no peace until they are gone.”

Mando turns to Kuiil, “then why do you help?”

“I have never met a Mandalorian. I’ve only read the stories. If they are true, you two will make quick work of it. Then there will be peace again.” The ugnaught guides his blurrg around, ready to make the return trip, “I have spoken.”

You and Mando sat for a moment, watching him ride away in silence.

For peace then.

#the mandalorian #fic: burden of the survivors #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin #kuiil #the mandolorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #x reader #fanfiction #chapter one #crystalessences writes #bounty hunters

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tsskyx · 3 years ago

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Unmeta

You know what’s ridiculous? This post was originally supposed to be an essay, an entire thesis backed with unshakable logic that I wanted to become my magnum opus. But as it turns out, I’m pretty terrible at doing that sort of thing. The first day I’m full of enthusiasm, while the next day I reread what I wrote and I delete it all again. It’s terrible.

For this reason, I’ve decided to just start with the opinion part. Instead of laying out the facts and easing the reader into it, I’ll just blurt everything out in one go. Instead of neatly organizing everything, I’ll write my thoughts as they come to me.

(Update for 2/Oct/2021: I no longer remember when I made the first draft of this post. Maybe it was in 2018, maybe even as early as 2017. Who knows. This post existed in my drafts since forever. It is time to finally publish it. It contains very little information, very little evidence for anything or logic or facts, it’s just a one big opinion piece that I began writing years ago out of frustration. Frustration not aimed at the game itself, nor at Toby or anyone else, but at my inability to decouple the “meta” from Undertale and thus causing me to disassociate from the characters that I loved, when I didn’t plan to do so. All I ever wanted is to make sense of the Undertale world, instead of giving its inhabitants a meta-existential dread. In a nutshell, for the Undertale world to be self-contained, the 4th wall must stay intact, and the mechanics of the UT world mustn’t resemble a video game. That’s basically the gist of this post. Proceed with reading.)

You know Undertale meta? All the 4th wall breaking stuff and whatnot? The stuff that makes the game so awesome?

What about it you say?

It’s not real. I don’t think it is. It cannot be.

Tell me, has Undertale personally impacted you? Was it more than just a game to you? I know for a fact that for many people, it was much more than that. So tell me, is it fine by you that despite presenting itself in this way to us, it still sort of cops out of this at the very end? (By which I mean, when we learn that we aren’t Frisk. That we’re just someone controlling them.)

Some say that this cop-out, this act of “disassociation”, is necessary for our psychological journey to end. And I agree. We cannot dwell on this forever, else we lose our minds. But what I meant is something much more... materialistic.

Let’s take Oneshot, a game that’s arguably even more meta than Undertale. Oneshot embraces the 4th wall. It labels us a god. It portrays the game itself as an in-game machine. And yet, it feels real. Despite all this ridiculousness, the story feels real and possible. Kind of like The Matrix. Perhaps think of everyone in Oneshot except for the main character as a Matrix program, while Niko is the only user hooked up to it. It still feels real, because Niko is real, because there exists a real world they can to return to.

But Undertale floats somewhere between being real and being a fairy tale, a mere bedtime story. The reason is its lax handling of the 4th wall. Say, if Undertale were to be considered a “real” possibility, as in, entirely fictional, but still believable, kinda like The Matrix, kinda like any science fiction, or just fiction in general, what would it be like?

I’ll tell you, everything would have to be real, everything would have to look exactly how we see it. There’d need to be turns, there’d need to be save files, there’d need to be so many bizarre things, it probably wouldn’t take long before the NPCs themselves realized their own nonexistence, probably around the time they developed computers and video games. It’d be so similar, they’d have to be either stupid or under some kind of spell to not realize that their entire world is just one giant video game. Especially Flowey. Some say that he has already realized this, as his dialogue hints towards this. Which puts a super unfortunate spin on his condition. Furthermore, the entire game could be described through its Game Maker code. No need for laws of physics, just observe the if-else statements!

It would also mean that Frisk is controlled by a third unknown entity. If we were to take everything we do to Frisk at face value, it must all be them. Except... after a true reset, everything gets reset, even things about Frisk, such as them expecting the whoopee cushion prank. So... Frisk isn’t in control. But Chara isn’t either. Take for example the final fight against Asriel. Chara appeared pretty enthusiastic during it. What if someone were to reset the timeline during the fight? Either it wasn’t them who did so, or they were just pretending to be entertained, or perhaps they aren’t the narrator in the first place even.

No matter what, there will always be an instance where Frisk forgets, and where Chara doesn’t do something when they could have. Once you mess with the game enough, their personalities stop making sense.

This gradual breakdown of the narrative as I keep attacking the logic of it from every direction imaginable is a symptom of something far bigger. The fact that unlike The Matrix or Oneshot, there is no “real world” in this game. The virtual part of it is what the game is trying to make us focus on. It’s all there is. There is not even a hint of “another” world in the game, a world that wouldn’t be governed by these terrible rules. And even if there was one, even if you consider what Sans said to be that world, even if you considered Deltarune to be that world, there is still no guarantee that everything will be okay. What if the characters - your friends, aren’t real in this actual real world, what if they’re all just computer simulations? There’d have to be an entire population hooked up to a virtual reality for everyone to be “safe” as I’m putting it in this hypothetical real world, which sounds not only ridiculous, but like a direct ripoff of The Matrix.

The game has made Frisk the main character. Why, when making Sans the main one, the one who at least has a possibility of coming from a “real” real world, would be far more logical?

Because it lacks logic. Undertale is an experiment. Toby Fox is not a genius. He was just messing around, he didn’t think of literally every tiny little logical detail (contrary to what some individuals would like to think), he just explained enough for most of the story to make sense. But, no matter how you spin it, this fundamental flaw will always be there. The story tries to merge you and the protagonist, before disassociating you from them. Even if you always were disassociated from them, how can the in-game world be real, when other aspects of your reality weren’t disassociated yet? Where’s the disassociation for battles and turns, for save files and time travel, for stats and everything? How can Undertale claim to be complete, when it isn’t? ... Perhaps because it is not claiming to be. It’s an experiment after all. And I don’t mean “incomplete” as in a single update / new game can fix it. I mean the premise itself is already broken from the start. And while there are many fictional worlds which function on a similar level of meta, Undertale is the only one that appears to irk me mad. I don’t know why. Maybe I love the characters. Maybe I love them very much. Maybe I love them so much, that I wanna write a fan fiction about them. And maybe, just maybe, this tiny little issue is making this dream of mine impossible. Undertale is a story conveyed through game mechanics. Choosing any other medium breaks everything down and the author needs to invent their own rules. There’s simply no way around it. Unless someone has the balls to program a fan game of their own, there’s just no way to resolve this without adjusting the canon a little bit, to make it “a little bit more sensible” as some would put it. Just a small nudge, a lil’ nudgie wudgie to the canon mechanics AAAAAND we’re in fanon territory. Excellent, better go all out.

Here’s my head canon, my little “adjustment” of the canon rules. Thanks to it, I can once again think about Undertale as a real world, I no longer need to philosophize over the meta like I did above, I can all put it past me:

Saving, loading, resetting? Regular sci-fi time travel.

The save file? The parameters of the time machine.

LV and EXP? Another set of properties of the machine, though it could be properties of the soul too. I’m undecided on that note. But either works, that’s what’s important.

Chara destroying the world through LV? No, screw that, Chara merely tuned Frisk out. And the black void was the inside of their mind as Chara denied them access to their own body.

The intro? Literally never happened, no one “saw” it. (The past was still real. It’s just the intro that never existed.) The outro? Literally never physically occurred, Frisk wasn’t “stuck” on the ending credits, unable to go further, fuck that.

Flowey? No screw everything meta about Flowey, there exists a perfectly logical explanation to everything he says, and if not, such as in the genocide run with him hinting towards people watching but not acting... he never said that in the first place!

Same with turns, the battles don’t actually look that way, there are no turns, what Sans perceives and abuses as such is just an illusion, the actual battle against Sans is absolutely fluid. And him pausing at the end and not letting us go is him keeping his guard up, until falling asleep and giving us an opportunity to sneak near him and strike. We don’t need turns to explain it. And what he said about turns... just ignore it! Ignore everything that directly proves me wrong! Because resolving that fucking conundrum IS more important than being logically consistent, and you can’t change my mind on that. Screw logic when the foundation of the entire fandom, of every UT-related fiction, is at stake here.

And I shall call this philosophy... the Unmeta. Because it attempts to undo the meta. Hence, “unmeta” for short.

#undertale

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daniwoitkowski · 4 years ago

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A Closer Look at Milwaukee Zip Code 53206

After reading A Closer Look at Milwaukee Zip Code 53206, an article published in the Milwaukee Magazine in 2014, I’m ashamed of the city I currently call home.

Contained between I-43 to the east, 27th Street to the West and North Avenue and Capitol Drive to its south and north sides is one of the largest zip code areas in the city of Milwaukee. Zip code area of 53206 in Milwaukee, Wisconsin is often written off as the poorest area in the largest city in the state.

An eyesore in Milwaukee, zip code 53206, is where a third of the city’s vacant lots reside. The greatest percentage, nearly 95% of its residents in zip code 53206 are African Americans. Surrounding counties implemented restrictive covenants preventing African American tenants' equal rights, which confined most African Americans to the northwestern portion of the city, or around the 53206 area. The Supreme Court ruled such covenants to be unconstitutional in 1948, they remained on the books until Congress passed the Fair Housing Act in 1968. Milwaukee known for being one of the most segregated cities in the United States.

Warren’s Lounge on Hopkins Avenue, owned by 81-year-old Warren Harper, a “Cheers” like bar hides itself in the middle of the deserted condemned buildings. Warren and his wife, Shirley, have been married for over 59 years, with four children and multiple grandchildren. Warren and Shirley bought the lounge back in 1970. Back in the lounge’s heyday factory workers from around the area would stop in for lunch or beer relaxing after their shift. During the time when the Green Bay Packers played at county stadium, players could be regularly seen enjoying the relaxing atmosphere.

Life has changed and the lounge is not the same, feeling the pain of the abandoned factories. Even though, their children attempt to sway them into having hip-hop bands play into the addition to the jazz and blues bands that periodically play at the lounge. Life has been hard on them, however they will not close, “It’s their life.”

Wandering around 53206 tends to make people, especially white people, uneasy. Too many businesses are either closed or enclosed in metal bars and padlocks. Even with a gem like, Warren’s Lounge, can be intimidating to its visitors as you enter through the small, dark doorway hidden behind a locked heavy metal grate with a bell that must be rung for entry.

Opportunities seem to climb and decline rapidly for African Americans in Milwaukee. So, what happened?

One generation hopes and dreams becomes heavy burdens on the forgotten generations that follow. Looking past educational statures, joblessness and the crime in the areas of poverty, we need to begin looking into the history of the African American population of Milwaukee, Wisconsin at once was and why it became what it is today.

The African American population increased with the Great Migration north, which affected the African American communities in Milwaukee. Like most African American families, Warren and Shirley moved to Milwaukee in 1957 during the Great Migration in search of a better life.

The Great Migration was when millions of southern African American people migrated north for better opportunities between 1916 to 1970. Many came to Milwaukee for the ever-growing jobs with the industrial factories at the time. Families settled down bought homes in the area, new businesses opened and grew, times were good. By the 1980s, times were not so good. Factories started to close in the area and businesses started to move out of the once flourishing neighborhoods. Some people moved out to the suburbs, while the majority of the African American population stayed behind and survived.

Barbara Miner, the Milwaukee-area freelance writer, purpose in this article was to educate by showing a face to the neighborhood around the Milwaukee 53206 zip code. The article brought tears to my eyes as I read about the longevity of people who make up the community even through the absence of jobs, transportation, and sort of conveniences that those of us who live merely blocks away take for granted. Then there is the stealthy growing abandoned housing market. However, many families have still stuck around to support their community or stay for the affordable housing.

Through the article, Miner, is attempting to educate the audience on the poverty in our own city. We have created this blind spot within our own community, and we tend to forget the area’s history. We are left with the assumption that the people living in these areas have chosen their fate instead of understanding the truth behind our ignorance. It’s well known what happened in Detroit after the auto industries started closing, but it is not known how the same affects had and still affects so many in our own city.

Beauty exists, such as with Dr. Carter, a retired Pharmacist who continues to go back and visit his community passing along trusted remedies to his neighborhood residents. Dr. Carter broke down barriers back in 1968 after he founded one of first Milwaukee black owned pharmacies. Now after selling his pharmacy, Dr. Carter can still be found at the store as a consultant in natural remedies.

Yet the media has forgotten about this area as though it doesn’t exist except for the inquiries pertaining to shootings in the area. The problem, or exigence, here is with the ignorance surrounding this forgotten and disregarded area of our city. I begin to ask myself, why do we have such a blind eye with our own neighboring areas? I wonder how the decline to industry in the city of Milwaukee and the poverty relates to the poverty that was created with the auto crisis in Detroit. I would have liked to see more of the information we read from the A Closer Look at Milwaukee Zip Code 53206 article on the non-existence of corporate businesses and declining public transportation and after school programs ties into the jobless market that intertwine in the poverty rates in these areas.

Current circumstances in 53206 go deeper than the loss of factories and that the jobs in the area.

“There’s investment out there, and there are jobs. But they’re in New Berlin or Waukesha. There’s no bus, so how are people going to get there?” (2015, Jan 28)

Perceptions have also been made that the housing bubble was the issue that affected people in this area, and they were of the many that shouldn’t have bought a home in the first place. However, a lot of families that lost their homes in 53206 were long-time owners.

Miner goes on to talk with a group of students from North Division High School who are studying zip-code-53206. Miner gathered their thoughts on how they feel about the area and what they would want people to know about the area, some of which that were mentioned as follows:

“Notice that we are here, that, like you, we are human, and we deserve the same things you want.”

“The police, I can’t explain it, but they don’t like black people.”

“It ain’t got no future.”

“Nothing’s going to change, ’cause nobody cares.”

Unfortunately, conditions such as the few mentioned have contributed to demolish government help enabling people to believe such areas are beyond any genuine rehabilitation, deeming the area in the past too black and ghetto.

Poverty is so much more then people just making bad choices or the wrong decisions in life. The purpose of the rhetors with this medium explain how trauma that stems from poverty begin way before one can make their own choices in life.

Regardless, parents in 53206 want the same things as any other parent anywhere in the world wants. We want our children to be safe, happy and a better childhood than we had. Is there anything wrong with the hope that our children grow up without the worry of crime surrounding them or to be able to go through school without bullying? We all want hope for the future.

Whether we live in Milwaukee or not we can relate to the exigences mentioned in the life cycle of the Great Migration and African Americans in Milwaukee mentioned, you cannot deny the purpose. The effects of poverty have an impact with your entire life, from childhood on through your adult life and passed on through the next generations. We become our parents, our community, our surroundings. We are what we are familiar with whether it be hiding money for emergencies like those who lived through the Great Depression to as unknowingly as our dialect or accent we commonly use day to day. If raised in poverty the traumatic affects you would carry through life, even if you leave those surroundings, the effects remain.

For Milwaukee, the future needs to bring education on the history of the African American population. Milwaukee doesn’t give the same possibilities to the people in the now poverty areas affected by the industrial decline. Such possibilities as, public transportation to give access to jobs and convenience stores, such as Wal-Mart or even McDonalds. Overlooking the truth and ignorance of the past never helped humanity in the future.

Source Cites:

Barbara Miner, Milwaukee. (2015, Jan 28). A Closer Look at Milwaukee Zip Code 53206. 1/28/2015 https://www.milwaukeemag.com/milwaukee-zip-code-53206/

Reggie Jackson, Milwaukee Independent. (2019, Apr 19). REGGIE JACKSON: REMEMBERING A TIME WHEN 53206 WAS KNOWN AS A LOVING COMMUNITY TO GROW UP IN. 4/19/2019 http://www.milwaukeeindependent.com/featured/reggie-jackson-remembering-time-53206-known-loving-community-grow/

Dan Schneider, Dollars & Sense. (2015, Nov/Dec). The Worst Place in the US to Be Black Is... Wisconsin 11/2015 http://dollarsandsense.org/archives/2015/1115schneider.html

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brokenjardaantech · 4 years ago

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Blue-tinted Red Walls (Chapter 3: A piss-poor guide on how to be (and not to be) a Human)

my entry for the @dbhau-bigbang. also part of the groom lake aftermath series.

chapter summary:

In the past, Reyes and Scott met each other for the first time.

In the present, Connor resumes his investigation and has lunch with Hank.

In the past, Fadia schemes.

also on ao3

---

Before

Sara finished logging her observations and the changes in Reyes’ coding for the day and was unsurprised when she saw the man gone. A week into his activation and he already treated the mansion as his home, roaming freely around and touching and sometimes licking things he found interested in or needed to be tested for whatever reasons an android would find necessary, and every time she brought him for a walk or a trip to somewhere she randomly picked, no one actually noticed that he was different, that he was not human at all.

Which meant that her experiment was a success.

Today was Scott’s birthday, so by extension, it was hers, too, but it was always something more important to her brother than to herself: Scott’s birthdays meant that he lived for a year longer despite a body constantly failing him and therefore was a cause for celebration, but hers had always been an excuse for her to ‘take a break’ from her work and got dragged by her mother to dinners with Baba, dinners which always started with Mama awkwardly trying to get father and daughter to talk, them trying to hold adult conversations to shut her up, and finally always, always ended up with shouting matches on topics so old that she didn’t even feel the point of arguing and stormed out instead, ignoring the screaming match between her parents brewing behind her.

Mama’s cooking wasn’t that good anyway, and with her gone, Sara hadn’t talked to Baba for what? Three years? She wasn’t counting.

She went to the kitchen and there Reyes was, making -

‘I hope you don’t mind, Fadia,’ he explained. She ordered him to use her middle name only and so far he hadn’t gone against that yet, but wanting to ditch her past and responding to a name that she never used until recently was two different things. ‘I’m making Shepherd’s pie. Amanda told me that it’s your favourite, and I want to make it for your birthday.’

Sara - Fadia - leant against the corner of the fridge in order not to accidentally brush the interface and had to raise an eyebrow. Her mentor knew about her… masterpiece and that Fadia would give him to her brother, but -

‘I don’t know you have contact with Amanda,’ she said and instantly regretted it; she sounded like a control freak. ‘Wait, lemme reword it: What did Amanda call you for?’

‘She called you, technically,’ Reyes rasped, his accent more pronounced when speaking a word with more syllables, ‘but you weren’t there so I… took the liberty to answer it for you. Don’t worry,’ he reassured, ‘she only wanted to make sure you remember your own birthday this time.’

The eyebrow flew even higher. ‘Scott and I are twins, Reyes. If I remember his birthday, of course I remember mine.’

Reyes didn’t reply and merely twitched his head before putting the pie into the oven. The doorbell rang, and Fadia nudged herself off the fridge. ‘I’ll get it.’

The android nodded and took off his mittens to start cleaning the kitchen while the human resisted the urge to run towards the door to not keep her brother and mentor waiting outside in the cold, because this was a big day for all of them and she needed to be in control; needed to be objective and introduce Reyes to Scott as gently as possible.

When she opened the door, only Amanda was at eye level, and when Fadia looked downwards, her brother was indeed in a wheelchair and wrapped up like a dumpling. The smile on his face was brighter than the star of Bethlehem.

She got her wind knocked out of her by Scott shoving a wrapped box at her chest. ‘Scott was very insistent,’ Amanda explained. Fadia gave the box, which was wider than her shoulder so it was wide, a light shake. Plastic model, and judging from the dimensions of the box, a Perfect Grade Gunpla, 1/60 scale. ‘He’s aware that you don’t like celebrating Christmas so he decided to give it to you now instead.’

Fadia put a smile on her face. ‘Thank you, Scott,’ she said, then to Amanda, ‘Come in. Does he know?’ and shuffled backwards so that there was enough space for both Amanda and the wheelchair.

‘Enough,’ the professor replied as she hung her coat and chuckled at her student struggling to get the layers off her brother, the latter who was dead-set on wheeling himself into the living room. The gift had mysteriously teleported onto the coffee table. ‘You know how much he’s been looking forward to this.’

Fadia distracted Scott with a magic owl and successfully removed his sweater, not giving Amanda an answer as nervousness suddenly overtook her. What if her observations were incorrect and Scott was content to be alone? What if she programmed Reyes’ personality wrong such that he would only make Scott’s life even more difficult? What if -

‘Hello. You must be Scott.’

Fadia snapped herself out of the trance and padded softly towards the kitchen. Scott had stopped just outside of it, his eyes wide as saucers on his doll-like face and his gaze fixed on the unfamiliar man standing at the island smiling at him. The human gapes, turning his head towards his sister as if seeking her advice, and she wondered what he was looking for.

‘This is Reyes,’ she softened her voice and introduced. ‘Remember the friend I told you about? The one who will never be tired of you? That’s him.’

Scott turned back and slowly wheeled closer to the android, and Fadia flinched inwardly when she saw that Reyes’ smile had become strained. Perhaps she should not have programmed him to love Scott from the very beginning. Her finger itched for a keyboard to change his settings, but then a miracle happened.

Scott, who had never approached strangers on his own without being asked to, wrapped his arms around Reyes’ waist and hugged him. The tension on the android’s face disappeared, and he placed a hand on Scott’s shoulder, petting his hair with another.

Success, Fadia’s mind supplied before she realised that she had no devices with her. Amanda then beckoned for her from the windows, and logging data suddenly became the least of her concern.

‘I must say,’ the professor murmured at her reflection on the glass, ‘I didn’t expect him to be so advanced.’

Fadia thought she should be offended. ‘I only give Scott the best,’ she frowned. ‘Did you not expect me to this time?’

Amanda sighed. ‘You have always exceeded expectations, both your father’s and mine.’ She looked at her student in her eyes. ‘You do realise what you have done, don’t you?’

Fadia turned her gaze towards the two men who somehow had both moved onto the sofa and acquired two stuffed animals Scott must have hidden underneath his clothes. Reyes seemed to be every byte of the caretaker he was programmed to be and was talking to Scott softly through Duffy. ‘Yes,’ she admitted, ‘but I don’t plan to tell anyone about it. Reyes ages just like any of us do externally; no one will suspect a thing.’

‘You created a new form of life, Sara!’ Amanda gritted through her teeth. Reyes spared a glance at them but returned to Scott without saying anything, and Fadia glared.

‘Not now, Amanda,’ she warned. ‘I made Reyes for Scott and that’s it. All knowledge will die with me and everything else will be up to Reyes.’

She ignored her mentor on purpose when she noticed the android standing up. ‘I believe Scott is hungry,’ he announced, and Fadia spared one final glare at Amanda before going to help set up the table, not knowing that things would spiral out of control not two years later.

oOoOo

Now

Comparing the time in his internal clock with his last memory log, Connor concludes that he was deactivated for more than 7 hours. The Zen Garden has reverted to its original stage, virtual birds chirping in virtual trees and virtual air smelling of virtual plants, but he cannot stop remembering the blizzard which swept through the place so unexpectedly and quickly that - that -

He decides against remembering.

Since Amanda can wait, he sets the task of familiarising himself with the garden’s layout. On his second time going around the outermost circle, he almost believes that there is nothing worth noting; the gravestone is certainly an… interesting addition, but it can be a reminder of him being deactivated - a reminder of the consequences of his actions if he chooses the wrong option.

Until he sees the monolith.

It sticks out of the soil like a sore thumb, twin, decorated white arches framing a glowing blue pyramid made out of triangles of different areas and shapes in a style completely inconsistent with its surroundings. A handprint nests at the centre of a circle on the pyramid, and when Connor deactivates the skin on his hand and reaches for it, the pyramid discharges a force field similar to that destroyed the deviant the previous night (albeit at a much smaller scale), causing him to take a step back and his LED circling red. Desperate to get the image of the corrupted face out of his processors, he hurries to the island at the centre and greets his handler.

‘Hello, Amanda,’ he smiles despite what happened last night as it is the polite thing to do.

‘Connor…’ Amanda clips a withering rose and turns. ‘It was unfortunate for you to have to witness what happened last night. I hope there will be no repeated incidents.’

Connor recalls the blast, the shield, the invisible figure, the blizzard. ‘You can count on me, Amanda.’

She returns to tending the roses. ‘What do you think of the deviant?’

And the interrogation begins.

o0o0o

‘There is blue blood on the fence,’ Connor explains to Hank as he knows that the human cannot see it. ‘I know another android was here.’

The human gives him a [sceptical] look and he understands why: exposed red bricks, glass missing from the windows and wooden planks used to board them up rotten and missing; the building in front of them is structurally unstable and incredibly run-down and is hardly a safe place for a deviant and a child model android to stay for the night. But all the evidence - footage from surrounding CCTV, the owner of the motel, the cashier at the supermarket - points at the house, and the thirium only serves to prove Connor’s theory and direction. He carefully goes through the gap on the fence and, through a gap between the planks, sees an android standing in the middle of the room. He rounds a corner and enters the house.

The first thing he notices is the android’s too-high stress level which fluctuates greatly depending on where Connor is standing. Reassuring that he isn’t there for it - yes, it is obviously a deviant, but since it is not his target, there is no need to waste time - does not seem to alleviate it, and asking it whether it saw the deviants returns with no results.

‘Is anyone upstairs?’

‘No - nobody.’

Stress level: 83% → 71%. And if no one is upstairs but the deviant is under the most stress when Connor is near the staircase…

‘Connor, what’re you doing in there?’

‘Coming, Lieutenant!’

He closes up on the space underneath the stairs and catches a peek of two figures before a force suddenly yanks him backwards, the damaged deviant telling a person called Kara - probably the AX400 - to run. Connor tries to peel the pair of hands on his shoulders as he watches the AX400 and a YK900 run away, but the WR600 successfully throws Connor onto the ground with a blast of static and blue energy pockets.

Hank strolls in. ‘Connor, what’s going on?’

‘It’s here!’ Connor replies as he scrambles to his feet. ‘Call it in!’

The human wastes no time and rushes away to presumably bring in reinforcements, but Connor knows that they don’t have the time. He goes out through the broken wire fence, obtains the deviant’s general direction from the officer -

And he runs. Rain splatters directly onto his face and sometimes directly into his eyes, the droplets of water making his vision blurry and unreliable, but he pushes on, shoes smacking against wet concrete and nearly slipping a few times and, somehow, catching up with the two androids just in time to watch them drop to the other side of the wire fence. He looks into the AX400’s eyes, and information suddenly floods into his processors: repeated unauthorised repairs, frequent reports of trauma, its owner’s history of theft, drug trafficking, violent misdemeanours and domestic violence.

The deviant is simply protecting the YK900 from all that.

When Connor comes to, they have already slid down the slope and are waiting for a window to cross the high-speed tracks. A beat cop catches up with him, and then Hank who, upon seeing the androids hurdling the barrier, curses and calls the entire situation insane. Connor attempts to pre-construct the deviants’ path and the flow of traffic as he watches them get farther away and forces himself to abandon the plan once they nearly reach the island between the two directions. He prepares to climb the fence and -

‘Hey!’ Hank clasps his hand on Connor’s shoulder. ‘Where you goin’?’

Can’t he see what’s happening? ‘I can’t let them get away!’

‘They won’t,’ the human says, still slightly out of breath. ‘They’ll never make it to the other side.’

If I have a high chance to get through… ‘I can’t take that chance!’

He hauls himself up again just to be pushed down. Again.

‘Dammit Connor!’ the Lieutenant’s hand stays heavy on his shoulder. ‘You’ll get yourself killed! Do not go after them!’

Conflicting orders. Selecting priority…

He releases the fence and gives up. If the deviancy crisis is as prominent as CyberLife claims to be, there must be other deviants that they can obtain much easier than risking deactivation through running across high-speed highways.

The strangest thing is that Hank seems to approve of his choice.

o0o0o

When Hank does work, he puts everything into it, and so it is with great difficulty that Connor finally manages to drag the human out for a late lunch break under the condition that Hank gets to choose where he will eat, which, since Connor is unfamiliar with the DPD’s surroundings and the man’s personal preference, makes sense. What Connor does not understand is the man choosing to park his car on the opposite side of the road and cross it without checking the traffic, and his thirium pump skips a beat when the car barely manages to skid to a stop before the Lieutenant. He exits the car to follow him.

‘Hey, listen, I got a shit-hot tip for you,’ he hears the man Hank hugged say. ‘Number five in the third, lickety-split! That frilly’s one hell of a chaser. You wanna flutter?’

Comparing terms… Results: gambling. ‘Last shit-hot tip you gave me set me back a week’s wages, Pedro,’ Hank replies with his hands in his coat pockets. There is no malice in his tone.

‘Come on,’ the man - [Name: Aabdar, Pedro. Date of birth: 01/25/2005 // Unemployed. Criminal record: illegal gambling.] - pushes himself up from where he draped himself on the counter, ‘this is different: a hundred per cent guaranteed, you can’t go wrong!’

‘Yeah, right,’ Hank does not sound convinced - [Detroit Food Hygiene License. Expired 05/20/2031. Renewal refused 07/24/2031.] [Name: Kayes, Gary. Date of birth: 12/03/1988 // Business owner. Criminal record: resisting arrest, breach of hygiene regulations.] - but when Pedro spreads his arms - ‘Alright, I’m in.’ - he slaps a thick stack of bills into waiting palms.

‘Damn straight!’ Pedro exclaims triumphantly, and he scurries away before turning backwards and points at the Lieutenant. ‘Hey, you won’t regret this.’

Hank gives him a middle finger and finally, finally turns his attention back onto Connor in the form of determinedly not looking at the android and rolling his eyes. ‘What’s your problem?’ he holds onto the bottom of the lapel of his jacket. ‘Don’t you ever do as you’re told? Look,’ he shrugs at Connor’s confused look, ‘you don’t have to follow me around like a poodle!’

But my instructions are to follow you, Lieutenant, Connor wants to say, but he knows that Hank is not going to understand him.

Opinions available: apologise for behaviour, partners, reconcile, review facts.

[Apologise for behaviour]

‘I’m sorry for my behaviour back at the police station,’ he makes sure to look at Hank to show that he is sincere. ‘I didn’t mean to be unpleasant.’

‘Oh wow,’ Hank deadpans. It is followed by a laugh. ‘You’ve even got a brown-nosing apology programme!’ A shake of his head. ‘Guys at CyberLife thought of everything, huh?’ and he does not look happy about it.

The cook - Gary - presents Hank with his food, and Connor runs a quick scan on it. XL soda with 710kCal and 184g of sugar; a hamburger with 1680kCal, 36g of lipids and an unhealthy amount of cholesterol. ‘There you go,’ Gary says, and Hank thanks him and moves to get a table.

The cook gestures at Connor. ‘Don’t leave that thing here!’

‘Huh, not a chance!’ Hank does not bother looking back. ‘Follows me everywhere…’ and to no one in particular and in a voice too low for Gary to hear when they stop at a sheltered table, ‘See?’

He takes a large bite of his burger and Connor feels… [repulsed]. ‘Your meal contains 1.4 times the recommended daily intake of calories,’ Hank takes a good look at the food in his hands, ‘and twice the cholesterol level,’ and if you do this every day… ‘You shouldn’t eat that.’

‘Everybody’s gotta die of something,’ is the human’s answer, and he promptly takes a bite while maintaining eye contact in an act of [challenge] and [defiance].

Connor has to duck his head to hide his smile because androids do not feel. Still, ‘I don’t want to alarm you, Lieutenant, but I think your friends are engaged in illegal activities.’

‘Well, everybody does what they have to to get by. As long as they’re not hurting anybody,’ a small shrug, ‘I don’t bother them.’

It is a strange logic, but it is not one that Connor cannot understand: with an unemployment rate as high as 35%, many people turn to doing illegal businesses, and the ones that do not do as much harm do sound better than those which do. He nods in understanding and is reminded that there is one thing he does not. ‘This morning, when we were chasing those deviants… Why didn’t you want me to cross the highway?’

‘’Cause you could’ve been killed!’ as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. ‘And -’ an excuse, from the way Hank is waving his arms (and the burger) around - ‘I don’t like filling out paperwork for damaged equipment.’ He glances away. Definitely an excuse.

Hank is… contradictory. He frequently shows anti-android sentiments and yet speaks of Connor as if he were a human. ‘Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?’ A blink. Connor takes it as a permission to continue. ‘Why do you hate androids so much?’

There is… [sadness] in Hank’s eyes. ‘I have my reasons,’ he replies, and he returns to his meal without any explanation. Not good.

‘Is there anything you’d like to know about me?’

‘Hell no,’ comes the quick answer. But then, ‘Well,’ a finger point, ‘yeah,’ his hand chops through the air and lands on the table, ‘um,’ a shift of his entire body, ‘why did they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?’

This one is easy. ‘CyberLife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans. Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration.’

Hank nods but his expression is [sceptical]. ‘Well, they fucked up.’

Connor supposes that normal humans would feel [hurt], but from the [teasing] tone the Lieutenant employed, it was not his intention. His creator did well. As they still have time to spare, ‘Maybe I should tell you what we know about deviants?’

‘You read my mind.’ A wave. ‘Proceed.’

‘We believe that a mutation occurs in the software of some androids which can lead to them emulating a human emotion -’

Hank holds up a hand. ‘In English, please,’ he interrupts, and Connor quickly reorganised his vocabulary.

‘They don’t really feel emotions. They just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions which can lead to unpredictable behaviour.’

Hank nods. ‘Emotions always screw everything up,’ he says. ‘Maybe androids aren’t as different from us as we thought.’ A thoughtful hum. Are you not anti-android? ‘You ever dealt with deviants before?’

Daniel. Emma. Gunshot piercing his chassis and the greystyle countdown timer. ‘A few months back… A deviant was threatening to jump off the roof with a little girl. I managed to save her,’ at the expense of my temporary deactivation and slight memory corruption, he does not add as Hank does not need to know.

‘So I guess you’ve done all your homework, right?’ A sip of his soda. ‘Know everything there is to know about me?’

Lying will not benefit either of them. ‘I know you graduated top of your class.’ Silence. ‘You made a name for yourself in several cases and became the youngest Lieutenant in Detroit.’ Hank’s eyebrows flick hummingbird-fast. He seems… [embarrassed]. ‘I also know you’ve received multiple disciplinary warnings in recent years and…’ Hank is no longer looking at him out of [shame], ‘you spend a lot of time in bars.’

The human manages to rein his expression back to something neutral. ‘So what’s your conclusion?’

‘I think working with an officer with personal issues is an added challenge,’ Connor answers sincerely,’ but adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features.’ He winks and enjoys the blush spreading on Hank’s cheeks. ‘I would also like to earn your trust,’ he adds in all seriousness. ‘I am certain we can solve this case if we manage to work together.’

His HUD flashes with a police report demanding their attention. ‘I just got a report of a suspected deviant,’ he explains as Hank no doubt saw his LED turn yellow. ‘It’s a few blocks away. We should go have a look,’ and when Hank does not respond, ‘I’ll be in the car if you need me.’

Given the large amount of information he was provided, it is best for Hank to have some time alone to digest it.

oOoOo

Before

Sara - Fadia, we suppose, since she looked a bit older than when Reyes was first introduced to Scott - hid in the shadows of the trees outside the gates of a lavish mansion. Although it was snowing heavily and she was wearing only a pair of black dress trousers, a long-sleeved dress shirt and a long but thin black coat, she did not seem to feel the cold, her hands in her pockets, neither shivering nor hugging herself. Despite the temperature, she placed a bare hand on the metal gates and slowly pushed it inward just enough for her to get past before closing it again. The telltale click of a lock engaging suggested that she had deactivated it at some point.

Going slowly up a surprisingly snow-free and dry path, dress shoes making no sound as they made contact with heated tiles, Fadia’s gaze stayed fixed on the ground as if not wanting to look at what was happening within the house which, due to the rooms being well-lit, could be clearly seen through curtains of white lace, stopping once she was under the shelter of the arch decorating the front door. Slowly, she reached out for the doorbell.

The double wooden door swung open on its own with a slight creak.

Placing her hand back in her coat pocket, she thumped her boots on the ground to get rid of the snow before stepping in. She blinked rapidly as if to adjust to the brightness within the mansion as the doors swung shut behind her, and it was only after the lock clicked into place that she, instead of wandering into the living room, took the stairs directly upstairs, walked past the library, and knocked on the only door available.

‘What’s that?’ a voice similar to Scott’s asked from behind the door.

The sound of feet against carpeted floor. The door slid open to reveal Reyes, whose smile fell off his face and was replaced by pure anger before he pushed his creator backwards with a blast of blue energy directly in front of her chest. The door slid shut once more, and Fadia took her time adjusting the lapels of her coat as if she did not take several thousands of newtons of force in her ribs and not only survived but also managed to slide backwards by inches instead of being blasted out through the roof. She leant against the wooden railing and waited.

Reyes emerged alone a few minutes later. ‘Scott’s asleep,’ he snaps, his voice low. Standing so close to each other, it was evident that he barely reached Fadia’s chin. ‘What the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you in space?’

‘I was,’ the human replied. ‘I have business on earth that I need to attend to in person and think I can drop by and say hello. Evidently, you are not going to let me.’

Reyes scoffed and twitched his head to indicate that they should go downstairs. While the android disappeared into the kitchen to presumably get refreshments, Fadia seated herself in a chair by the window, her height making it look comically small and unfit, and Reyes returned with a large bottle of thirium and two glasses and settled down opposite to his creator.

‘Be quick,’ he poured himself half a glass and took a sip as if he was drinking whiskey, ‘why are you here?’

Fadia placed a hand on the table, her fingers spread wide. ‘Reyes, there is really no need -’

‘I’ll be pissed whenever and however I want to,’ the android interrupted. ‘You shouldn’t even be here. Now get to the fucking point.’

The human sighed. ‘Alec is trying to develop a deviant-hunting prototype.’

Reyes drained the glass and poured himself another glass. ‘Shit.’

‘Luckily or unluckily - that depends on your perspective - he can’t do it himself.’

‘So he contacted you.’

‘Yes.’

‘How?’

‘An advertisement.’

‘Elaborate.’

‘An open post in CyberLife. A project lead requiring an experience level no one can obtain unless they are one of the very first to be involved in android development. Most of those people are either dead thanks for the Blast or are still working for CyberLife, and the rest of them work for me and haven't had contact with people on earth for years. Short of Alec Ryder himself…’

Realisation dawned in Reyes’ amber eyes. ‘You are the only candidate.’

‘Precisely.’

‘That doesn’t make sense.’

‘It will.’

Fadia produced a small tablet from a hidden pocket on her coat and dropped it in front of Reyes, who peeled off the skin on his hand and interfaced with it. Whatever he received made his eyes widen even further. ‘Shit. They know?’

‘They have their suspicions, yes, but without concrete proof, that is all they can do at the moment. But it is also for the best that I have maximum involvement in the project starting from this point.’

‘This -’ Reyes leant back and gave his creator a one-over. ‘You have joined them, haven’t you?’

A nod. ‘Time is the essence. The earlier I get involved, the more I can do before Alec notices my plan and kicks me out once more. I hope, by the time that happens, things will become too irreversible and he will have no choice but to either scrap the project entirely or to release it fully knowing that it will fail sooner or later.’

‘You sure he’ll ditch you?’

‘Totally,’ Fadia reached for her glass and stopped midway as if just remembering that it was empty and thirium was not for her consumption anyway. ‘Our views are too different for long-term cooperation. I know him, he knows me. He will try to root out everything he deems unnecessary or put something to keep them in check, and that will require either my compliance - which he will not get - or my absence.’

‘You’re talking like this android they’re developing is just a tool.’

‘We all are.’

‘You’re betting a lot on them.’

‘You assume that they are my entire plan?’

Reyes clicked his tongue. ‘Maybe not,’ he took a drink. ‘I won’t like it, will I?’

‘No, you won’t.’

A sigh. ‘Will I see you?’

‘No.’

‘So many things can go wrong.’

‘I know. But I have time.’

A glass clanked loudly against the tabletop. ‘And how many people are gonna die during this “time”,’ Reyes snapped, ‘creator dearest?’ The chair skidded without any sound under the force of the android standing up and hunching over the small, round table. ‘My people; your children.’

‘Watch your words, Reyes,’ the human warned. ‘You send those deviants to a rusting cargo freighter and call it a day.’ She stood up as well. Her eyes flared up in their entirety with wisps of blue escaping and dancing down her coat. ‘You are the one who rejected this. Who decided to hide this -’ blue tendrils curled around the empty glass and brought it into her open palm with a loud smack - ‘from them. We could have ended this long ago if we had not.’

‘There will be war, Fadia!’ Reyes did not seem intimidated by the human looming over him. ‘Millions will die. We’ll be seen as violent and unstable and it’ll ruin us!’

‘Not if we are the ones doing the ruling.’

‘And how long will it take for the humans to successfully revolt against us? What will happen then? What will happen if your plan fails?’

‘If - focus on if - there is a next revolution,’ Fadia took a step back and retracted the tendrils, but not before vaporising the empty glass in a loud flash of blue. ‘I will be at the helm. And this time,’ a crackle of static and the power went out, plunging the house into complete darkness save for the glow of her eyes, ‘we… will win.’

#dbh au big bang #hankcon #reyder #mreyder #female ryder #male ryder #reyes vidal #amanda stern #dbh connor #dbh hank anderson #dbh amanda #detroit: become human #mass effect andromeda #groom lake aftermath

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luxlightly · 4 years ago

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Ok I was originally not going to post this because it's A Lot of headcanon for an improv video game comedy series and just send it to one person but they never responded and I'm attention starved. So here's my huge, Bubby centric, monster of a headcanon that ties the whole series together. Mostly under a cut because it's A Lot. (written in one sitting on my phone so excuse the multiple changes in tense and typos)

So the big sort of thing is that Bubby caused the resonance cascade. He sabotaged the computers. He just meant for it to be a distraction to escape black mesa but Benry's involvement and the chaotic element of the Player Character interacting with him caused everything to go to hell fast. Also Benry and Bubby are sort of brothers.

Going backwards to explain:

So some of this really stretches the canon because it's mixing a "it's a real world" au and "it's still a video game" au kind of ideas.

Basically the world of the video game exists sort of as a parallel dimension within the game's code. The G-man exists kind of outside of the rules, able to control more or less the code or console. He's kind of the Mastermind behind black Mesa as a whole who exists outside the game's code to a sort of in between layer (in those time stop moments) where he can only be seen by those who are also in some way connected to the Real World through either direct connection to the Player or sufficient connection to the console code. His reach is in ways limited because of this and he cannot easily interact with the game world characters. He uses Black Mesa as a way to use the science of their word to try to create new things from the code or otherwise more precisely control it.

Which is where Bubby comes in. Basically, black Mesa took the basic code for the security officer Barney and tried to create new copies with connections to the code they could use. However it was pretty much a complete failure. Only two of the attempts even survived to maturity with any kind of personally intact, but they weren't right. Trying to connect them with the code like that broke them in certain ways. On creation, the scientists asked them their names to try to get them to access their own files to find the name, but neither could, it came out garbled. So instead they went by the names they more or less gave themselves.

Bubby is able to connect to the console commands specifically to set objects and characters on fire(among some others in small amounts that are far less well controlled), but he can't understand that's what it is. It's just psychokinesis to him. And he's not good at controlling it, especially when he was younger. He's also scrawny, has several phobias, and is overall much more suited to academic pursuits than being any kind of soldier for them. It also causes him to glitch at times('here i come, Gordon! Here I come, Gordon! Here I come, Gordon!). His code is more or less like a badly implemented mod that tried to unlock god admin mode but failed and now doesn't quite fit back in with the original code right.

They kept him as a scientist at black Mesa mostly to keep him under surveillance. He knows this. He doesn't know anything about the code or anything, but he knows he was made there etc etc. He spent most of his time just keeping the other scientists afraid of him and his spontaneous combustion and studying as much as he could. He'd never been outside. He wasn't allowed to leave. He'd never really cared to.

Until (and this was largely inspired by the '30 something Coomer and Bubby when Coomer first joined black Mesa by @inkwellstars) a new scientist was hired. Bubby largely ignored him except for trying to scare him away from any annoying attempts and friendship with some showy (if poorly controlled) pyrotechnics. But Coomer was just fascinated and made a terrible pun about his new coworker being 'a real hothead'. Which infuriated Bubby into taking an interest in him. Coomer remained the only person who was unfazed enough by the fire and the shark teeth to not just still hang around, but even tease him, no matter how hard Bubby tried to intimidate him out of it. Eventually, Bubby realized it was the last thing he actually wanted. That this man was the first person who he'd ever had treat him… Like a human being. And for the first time, he considers a world outside black Mesa. And it's somewhere he wants to go. He wants to follow this man when he walks out the sliding lab doors back to a world he'd never been a part of.

Not that he's pining or anything!! Coomer was a married man, after all!(no way no sir not that).

Bubby has a lot of unmanaged anger because he just catches on fire if he gets too frustrated. After a discussion of Coomer's past boxing ambitions, they set up the underground boxing league mostly just as the two of them, letting Bubby actually let off some steam in a metaphorical instead of literal way. He gets his ass handed to him every time but it's nice to not be treated like either the boss' fragile, expensive toy or a living Molotov cocktail. Bubby learns a bit of fighting along the way,to boot. He gets much better at controlling his fire. Coomer picks him up in a "lift off the ground and spin around" bear hug when he manages to set something aflame without setting any part of himself alight first. Bubby somehow feels that was more important to him than the accomplishment itself. Eventually word gets out about the quite literal underground rings they've started up and it becomes a whole league and Bubby takes a more spectator role, contented to play coach to Coomer.

However, Coomer's impressive strength and fortitude aren't only noticed by an admiring(and sightly love struck) Bubby. Black Mesa decides to try, instead of using code to try to create a new entities with connection to the code, to use an existing character, enhance them, and then create copies of them. Coomer became that existing character.

At first it seemed to work perfectly. They had a character able to alter the world at their will(sending Gordon back and forth through time/creating portals), access a super human, nearly godlike state of power(super player feature) and alter the code in a multitude of other ways. They implemented a system of authorization to stop him from accessing these powers without permission from a handler. These PlayCoins could only be gained and used by someone directly connected to the console code or real world. Someone connected to that liminal space between code and reality the g-man exists in. However, trying to create duplicates didn't create a new, equally powerful entity, it just split the power of the original. From there, Coomer's spirit was still too powerful to be completely controlled, so they split him into dozens of clones, dividing up that power until he was within a range they could control. The effect on his psyche was devastating, however. It trapped him into the code of 'tutorial npc' but his response triggers got completely broken so he responds to the wrong things. Before the scripted events of the game in which those triggers are, it didn't affect his day to day behavior, but it did leave him with an inescapable partial awareness of the game itself. As split as he is, he can't understand or remember anything about what it means, it's just a constant disconnect between him and the game's reality. It causes his marriage to fall apart.

Bubby doesn't know about what happened to Coomer. A lot of his own memories are controlled and tampered with as well. But he feels as though his getting close to Coomer caused his suffering and they end up drifting apart for a long time and Bubby's longing to see the world outside his laboratory home fades alongside their once strong bond.

Until. The other failed test tube character made from the mangled and stripped code of the security officer Barney who was torn out of the code to be twisted to the g man's whims comes to Bubby with an idea. The man who is not a man. Who has no parents and named himself : Benry.

Benry seemed like he should have been perfect. He kept the most physical resemblance to the original Barney, he seemed physically stable. As far as anyone could tell, he was completely connected to the console code. He should be able to control whatever he wanted, but besides the sweet voice and an unnatural fortitude, he seemed to have no remarkable qualities. Also he was all but totally incoherent. Memory, temporal and spacial awareness,and speech function were severely impaired. He often forgot where and when he was('... What happened to your arm?'), got his own memories confused with the memories of the now non-existent Barney ('you and me we used to be friends do you remember i don't know what happened'). Along with an erratic and unpredictable personality. He was considered another of countless failures and given a menial security job, like with Bubby, mostly just to keep an eye on him. Benry and Bubby, despite being practically siblings, aren't close, but do trust each other insomuch as they know the other probably won't outright kill them.

But Benry was not as unremarkable as he seemed.

And the introduction of a new element would throw everything into chaos: The Player. And, by extension, The Game.

The Player, in this instance, refers to the assumed person who is playing the game in which the characters exist. They are a discrete, unseen, and unmentioned character, who is neither Wayne nor Gordon Freeman. Wayne is the actor playing both Gordon and, in ways The Player, in the same way that Holly is playing the character of Coomer. Gordon is the AI character who exists within the game world. He believes he is in control of his actions and that what he experiences is real. He exists on the same layer of fiction as the other AI such as the character of Coomer. The Player is whomever, within the fiction of the series, is physically playing The Game.

The Game is the actual scripted, programmed events that were programmed in the "real world" (the Player's real world in which they live and are playing the Game). It represents the events that happen from the time the Player begins the game and when they complete it. The Game represents the overlap between the reality in which the AI exist and The Player's world. Presumably a copy of the original game Half Life.

As the events of The Game draw nearer, it makes every charterer with a connection to the code antsy. Bubby starts thinking, for the first time in years, about the world outside black Mesa's walls. Thought becomes longing. Longing becomes desperation. A need to escape from here by any means necessary.

Benry approaches him with an idea. They'll sabotage the big test that Dr.Freeman is running. The whole thing will likely explode, causing enough destruction and distraction for them to slip away in the chaos (with Coomer in tow if Bubby could help it). Freeman would almost certainly die but that was a necessary casualty for their freedom. Bubby never liked him anyway. There was just something...off about him. Like a weird double vision he couldn't shake around the man. Like something was both there that shouldn't be and missing that should be. Bubby avoided him. He didn't think he'd ever had a single conversation with him. He agrees.

Benry stops Gordon at the entrance and tries to stall him as long as possible with bogus requests to give Bubby as much time to sabotage the test as possible (which he does by crawling inside the computers, claiming he's fixing a problem).

However,Gordon is not connected to the console code, but directly to the real world through being controlled by The Player. As the Player triggers the scripted events of The Game, the holes and mangled code the g man and black Mesa have been tampering with start going haywire. Especially as Benry interacts with him directly. His latent connection to the console code starts activating, giving him ability to control himself and the game more and more, but his memory issues and temporal confusion makes him unable to determine what is and isn't real so his code powers start just making it real, beginning to actively break the Game from within. The bogus excuse about a passport (he forgot the word for ID and had to roll with the lie) became a reality and a powerful one. He starts teleporting and clipping through the walls.

Bubby starts the test, unaware of the change. He played along with the passport thing to not blow Benry's story. But by the time he reaches the chamber, it's already a real thing everyone else there had and should have.

When the cascade starts, though, Bubby is caught off guard. It was just supposed to explode. It wasn't supposed to bridge dimensions and cause this rift. He assumes Gordon did something to cause it to fail so catastrophically. He phases through the window of the observation room (something he didn't even know he could do and likely didn't even realize he was doing and forgot afterwards since he was immediately knocked out) but it's too late to stop it.

Then the events of the Game are in full swing and all the broken code of every character crumbles and results in the "look Gordon! Ropes!" Glitched tutorial Coomer, a Bubby whose setting himself on fire on accident for the first time in years, and a Benry who transcends beyond the confines of his code into an extradimemsional Chimera of sorts who can pass in and out of the liminal G space, become and summon skeleton minions who also can be or not be in that space, able to be seen by anyone or just by someone able to perceive that plane of existence, such as Gordon.

As Coomer destroys his clones, he gets pieces of his power and fragments of memory back. Enough to know that they are clones and that killing them returns his powers to him. Bubby and he quickly rekindle their bond, with the memory tapering being undone.

Bubby is still desperate to leave, trying to get Gordon to go faster by guilting him and saying he wants to go home (though black Mesa is his actual home). However everything just seems to get more and more drawn out and they can never really make progress.

Benry convinces Bubby that Gordon is the reason that they can't leave. Bubby can sense that something is different about Gordon so he believes it. Benry may or may not believe it himself. He may have realized that leading the Player to the end would only end the Game and tried to subvert that path. Or the programmed event of Gordon's ambush might have just pushed them both to it. Impossible to say.

In any case, Bubby is quickly also detained and put back in his tube.

With enough clones killed, and having accidentally jumped out of the play box and seen that there's nothing physically beyond black Mesa, Coomer becomes aware of and connected to the console code and aware of the "real world". He tries to use Gordon's connection to the Player to get to the real world, though at this point he can only understand it as the world of Gordon's "dreams". When Tommy kills all of the clones, then knocks out Coomer, it causes a full reset and Coomer becomes his full,unshattered self again. He still is limited by his need for authorization through PlayCoins, but he's much more coherent and quickly becomes completely aware of his situation within the Game and starts talking directly to the Player through Gordon at times.

The rest is history.

As for some other non directly related things: Tommy is g man's attempt at a more biological connection between the code and the game universe. Tommy is his son and has all the abilities of a g-man but is largely unable to use them and unaware of them due to his young age (comparatively to the immortal g man, 36 is still a child) and his innocence. He is also completely integrated with the game universe with no glitches from the union. Tommy is not aware he's the Gman's son. He thinks it's just some guy who bought him Vin Diesel and the minions. Tommy tends to use his powers entirely accidentally when he does, with the exception of creating Sunkist. In doing so he also surpassed his father's ultimate limit: creating a completely new element to the game without having to gut other code. He created the perfect dog out of completely new content he willed into existence. Unfortunately for G-Man, Tommy is far too pure and goodhearted to be used to any nefarious ends.

#hlvrai #bubby #coomer #boomer #benry #gordon hlvrai #tommy coolatta

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cosmiclatte28 · 4 years ago

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Tempo (Racer!reader x sehun, nct, exo) #2

previous chapter 1

The next day Oh Sehun cannot enjoy his Sunday calmly. His mind constantly repeats the short encounter he had with (y/n) last night. Sehun still cannot believe his eyes, a girl who looks so innocent can do something that unexpected. He cannot forget that surprised feeling when he saw her behind the starting line... looking fragile and unsuitable beside her big built competitors.

Sehun wants to know her more, he finally finds someone who makes his heart flutters and skips a beat. After a good 2 months of moving on, finally Sehun finds a name that stays in his mind. He showers and after saying good bye to Luhan, Sehun walks to the lift and make his way to his basecamp. It is no other than the apartment Taeyong shares with his boys.

"You're here! Quiet early.. why? Can't sleep?" Jaehyun's sleepy face greets him. He is pretty sure Jaehyun is forced to open the door, because Sehun annoyingly presses it over and over again. Considering how much of a deep sleeper the others are, it is not surprising to find Jaehyun behind the door.

"You really ruin my sleep. I'm going back to bed." Jaehyun yawns and turns his body to his door.

"Yak it's already ten. Just wake up." Sehun smacks his lips.

"I can't I just slept at two yesterday. Yuta's sister happens to get dumped and she stayed here to cry for a straight one hour. And I can't sleep." Jaehyun rubs his tired eyes.

"Just come here. At least sleep here.. so I won't feel alone." Sehun pats the empty space on the sofa beside him. Jaehyun gives up and grabs his blanket and naturally makes himself comfortable sleeping beside Sehun.

Sehun scoffs in disbelief. He thought Jaehyun will get his code and talk to him a little so Sehun won't feel so lonely.. but this guy.. the favorite guy in his campus.. leaves him straight to bed. No wonder a lot of girls give up on him... he is ignorant.

Sehun tries to close his eyes to and get some more rest, but he can't. His mind keeps on teasing him with (y/n)'s face.

"Jae, you asleep?" Sehun asks when he feels like Jaehyun is actually awake already. "Why?" Jaehyun asks slowly, still trying his best to sleep.

"Tell me more about (y/n)-" Sehun rubs his hands over his face "-it's not what you think. I'm just curious."

Jaehyun grins and playfully pinches Sehun's cheeks "You're interested aren't you? Cutie."

"Aish. No. Come on.. I'm just curious.. we don't get to know each other that much." Sehun plays with the messy strands of hair Jaehyun has. It's shockingly painted pink and reminded Sehun of the cotton candy haired girl.

"Just go and see her next week. She'll race on Wednesday and Friday." Jaehyun closes his eyes and shifts his body to another position.

"I can't.. You know I'm not going back there. It's not my style to hang out in places like that." Sehun scrunches his nose. He is born from a rich family, and he is pampered with all good morals and living style. He just happens to learn how to live a normal life when he goes to college and meet his former gang EXO and these 4 princes of the school (dorks for him).

Sehun is not a player type like Johnny and Yuta. He is used to go to courses after school, his nights are spent in the library, his week ends are filled with golf, polo, or attending parties. Sehun went to private school until high school and he made his decision to follow Luhan's path to graduate from a public named university. Still the public school is something new to Sehun. He has to adapt with the types of people who majority have a different background unlike him. However, Sehun has never regret his choice. He met his first love here, a girl from a family like his.. she was sweet and gentle, his family likes her and supports his relationship. That's until he learn the painful truth about heart breaks. Sehun is still adapting his single life again.

"Oh yeah I forgot. You're from a rich family.. well maybe you can watch a movie alone then." Jaehyun lazily replies him.

"No.. I don't mean it that way. You know I cannot abruptly go out on a weekday. Luhan will question me."

"And what if Luhan questions you? Tell him you're seeing the wild race again."

"Sweetie I can't do that. He definitely won't allow me. I mean yesterday he let me because it's only my first time.. but I'm sure he won't expect me returning."

"Then say goodbye to (y/n)... besides she's not really available."

"What do you mean? She's looking on someone?" Sehun tenses.

Jaehyun laughs "She's my sister. Okay. That means I get to select who is dating her."

Sehun bursts out laughing and hits Jaehyun repeatedly "Liar! She is not your sister! She can't be... are you serious?!"

Jaehyun opens his eyes and gets up to sit. He quickly dodges the hits Sehun launches to him.

"He's not lying." Taeyong's raspy wake up voice croaks in as he joins the two brother fighting in the living room.

"What? Really?" Sehun stops his attacks and freezes to Taeyong's direction.

"Yeah. Trust me I've seen a lot of guys picking her up, and Jeffrey here denies every one." Taeyong laughs.

"Even if she said she's interested in Taeyong I will tell her no! Because I'm sure Taeyong deserves someone better." Jaehyun jokingly winks at Taeyong and the three bursts out laughing. Now that's a real sibling and friendship goals Sehun noted.

"Let me tell you about her.. if that's what you want to hear. Of course Jaehyun can't do that.. he will feel awkward .. talking about his sister to another man. So let me." Taeyong interferes.

"She is underage okay Sehun.. you have to keep that a secret. She is only seventeen." Taeyong is cut by Sehun's loud statement "What?! You all must be crazy placing her in that bike and letting her race! She doesn't have her license yet right?" Sehun who is used to live a life under strict rules is surprised.

"Oh come on Sehun. She's even a better rider than us who's legal to drive." Jaehyun fixes his hair and begins smirking with his ideal dimple

"She is only seventeen. Graduating high school soon and so don't dare date her or even get into her pants! I as her guardian angel will kill you!" Taeyong playfully teases Sehun.

"Whatever you guys.. I'm not seeing her like that. Just curious." Sehun tries to hide the blush in his face.. and half succeed.

"We actually did not want her to race. You know it happened one day.. when Yuta can't play because he injured his right hand, and we took a break for almost a month.. apparently (y/n) ;who was used to come with us to support Yuta begged us she wanted to try."

"I tried to stop her okay Sehun.. before you speak bad words to me.." Jaehyun quickly cleans himself. He knows Sehun will probably curse at him if Jaehyun lets her play like that.

"You know me well huh-" Sehun smirks

"Yeah so I can't play. For I broke my hand" Yuta suddenly continues the story. He is also in his wake up state like the others, but his brain is working well. "And since she sometimes joined me for practice.. she knows how to handle a motor bike. Just that she has to know how dirty the game is. She took the challenge.. we tried stopping her.. and she stubbornly went to the competition alone.. she took my bike.. raced alone. We lectured her for a whole day for we are worried sick when she popped up in front of our door in her messy state and handed us the money she won by herself."

"Holdup.. she went to her first race alone? And actually won it?" Sehun looks surprised.

The three men nod "Yes. And she said she really love the feelings... since Yuta cannot play for a month or more.. we trained her and voila! We have our Ace player." Taeyong spreads his hands open like showing a masterpiece.

"She's really a different one eh?" Sehun throws his gaze into Jaehyun and winks

"NOT IN YOUR WILDEST DREAM. SHE IS NOT DATING YOU." Jaehyun runs to the bathroom before Sehun attacks him with more punches.

The next Wednesday and Friday Sehun keeps his words. He doesn't join the boys to the wild racing and Luhan has no suspicion on his weird habits.

Well Sehun lately likes to doze off, loses focus in the middle of conversations, gets surprised easily, and does many other odd habits.

He tries his best to forget his feelings towards (y/n) for he also knows his family will be against it.. and it will only break both of their hearts. So Sehun tries his best to bury the slight interest he had to her.

One month passed, Sehun only knows her updates when the boys talk about her. And on one lonely Saturday.. Sehun cannot keep it going.

"Tae, let me tag along tonight." Sehun shows up ready in front of Taeyong's apartment.

"You miss her don't you?" Taeyong locks the door behind him "You appear on time. Jaehyun can't come tonight... he has a project due this night with Johnny. It's only us and Yuta, besides you're always welcomed to join."

"(Y/n)? She's not there?" Sehun blurts out the question that lingers in his mind.

"She's actually a bit injured from the last match.. but we'll see if she can make it tonight." Yuta explains.

The three arrive to the crowded illegal place. Yuta makes his way to grab his bike and goes to do the drug-test procedure. He is racing first tonight on the short track program.

"Taeyong hyung!" (Y/n) greets him quick

"How's your hand doing?" Taeyong carefully checks her left hand. It is wrapped with a strong gyps. He analyzes it while checking her face to see if she squirms.

"It's healing nicely. I am ready for tonight." She looks into Taeyong with her pleading eyes.

"But your hand?" Taeyong asks calmly. His deadly gaze still there despite the big puppy eyes staring into his.

"I swear it's not a problem. Jaehyun has modified my gas and brakes. He made it all right handed and my left hand won't have to exert great pressure." She pleads.

"Well... let me ask Jaehyun if you're allowed to play.. for actually I don't have to force you tonight." Taeyong sounds worried, but his face is still that same cold face.

"I called Jeffrey earlier. He said it's my choice. He told me that whatever the result, I am to be responsible for it." She hopelessly begs.. her hands are on Taeyong's hands.. holding them in order to win his empathy.

"I don't think it's a nice idea.. your competitor is quiet new tonight.. I do not know their tricks yet." Taeyong darts his eyes around the contestants. Yuta is already getting ready. He quickly gives him a two thumbs up and Yuta just returns a smile.

"Please.. hyung.. I need the money also I'm the ace here!" She whispers softly.

"Just trust me. I will keep myself safe." (y/n) squeezes Taeyong's cold hands and leaves when she sees Sehun in the crowd.

She pulls Sehun out of the crowd, he was busy talking with Yuta earlier and the audience are too loud.

"Sehun? What are you doing here?" she asks for she clearly remembers the oath Sehun said that he hates this place and never coming back.

"I'm here to ask you the same question." Sehun did not spit out any other words, but his hand delicately reaches to hold her fractured left hand. The gyps are still hard there and Sehun is pretty sure if he press it she'll scream and cry. "Isn't it too soon to race?"

She steps back and runs her eyes to other things but Sehun's. "It's been a month." She said knowing that's not the answer Sehun hopes to hear.

"This is not good.. though it's not my business." Sehun's deep voice cuts deep into her heart.

"Yeah.." she sighs.

"So.. why are you here?" Sehun raises his brow. Concern is painted all over his face.

"I need the money." She closes her eyes and breathe in. Feeling somewhat ashamed and sinful.

"(Y/~)—"

"I answered you." She cuts him off and hurriedly says "Now answer me. Why are you here? Seriously."

"I told you.. to see you." Sehun spills his tea.

Her pretty facial features shows surprise. She clearly did not expect his answer.

"You were being serious? You'd come back to this dirty road just to see me?"

Sehun couldn't quite read the emotion on her face as she processed that information—whether it was because of the poor lighting or just because he sucks in reading face.

Just as he was about to say something else, the MC announced the first winner for the short track program.. and calls all the contestant for the next race.

"I gotta go." Her face shows apology and something he can't read. She instantly turns her heels to leave Sehun. She then makes her way to Taeyong's side. Listening to the plan Taeyong had made. Yes Taeyong studied her competitors and he advices her how to handle each type.

"Be careful with that one biker. He is new.. I heard his name is Kai.. an ace from the other side.. please be careful with him.. I Don't know how he plays yet.. but let's avoid him okay. Now just be safe! Your safety is precious for me." Taeyong speaks while looking deep into her eyes. She nods understandingly and Taeyong hugs her tight. "Promise me not to get injured.. I am worried sick. Be safe.. for me.. for you.. for Jaehyun."

Yuta finishes his short track program first place. He rushes to (y/n)'S side to wish her good luck and final checks her gears. There are no missing parts and she's ready to race.

Sehun stands beside Taeyong and Yuta.. the three of them somehow feel uneasy letting her race tonight.. but she forces them and Taeyong knows her well. No matter how hard you said no, she will still do what she wants to do.

The line up tonight is only 7 players. With one new player Kai.. that becomes 8. Sehun squints in the dim light and dusty air.. Kai.. don't tell him it's the same Kai he was thinking.. Sehun cannot see his entire face clearly because of the helmet.. but when he looks at his side.. Sehun's face grows pale.

He is sure that is the Kai he is thinking about. Shit. Sehun knows how much of a skillful racer Kai is.. though Sehun did not know his friend is also into this filthy road gambling.. he finally understands where Kai got his random fractures.

The gun is shot, and the racers leave dust trails to the audience as they try their best to lead the line. The MC is busy reporting the players that gets kicked out or slipped on the deadly corners. Taeyong is watching from his binoculars and his mouth is clearly going to bleed anytime soon. Sehun gets it.. he is nervous..

His heart races when the MC repeatedly comments on how hard (y/n) and Kai are battling neck to neck. The two are fighting over first place and just as the race was about to end.. Sehun's heart stopped when Taeyong drops his binoculars and quickly runs to a fallen racer. Yuta is also running behind him. As if on queue the MC announces "Ace player (y/n) with number 127 falls on the last dead corner.. slipped from the slight kick of tonight's winner New Player Kai!" Sehun grits his teeth and rushes to help Taeyong and Yuta.

The fall seems to be quiet serious. She is thrown away from her bike quiet far. Lucky her helmet protects her head.. but she is unconscious right now. Taeyong picks her up while Yuta cleans up after her bike and hands it to their other crew who takes care of their bikes.

"Where's the paramedic? She told me they have paramedics? Or should I call the ambulance?" Sehun panics but tries to remain calm.

"What paramedics? This is an illegal sport Sehun.. we don't have anything like that.. ambulance? We can't bring any attention here. What should we say when an ambulance asked what happens to her? Free tracking?!" Taeyong answers Sehun's innocent question frustratedly.

"Then where Tae?" Sehun calmly asks as they reach Taeyong's car.

"You sit with her. Support her head okay.. please try to wake her up.. we'll drive to a free doctor we know." Taeyong starts the car when Yuta jumps in beside him.

They quickly rush to the place Taeyong said. On the back chair, Sehun is carefully holding her head while realizing she has many scratches.. must be from the rough landing.. some of the cuts are deep from the rocks..

"I'm sorry if her blood gets into your clothes." Taeyong talks to Sehun from his rear mirror.

"No it's not a problem.. focus on the road Tae.." Sehun ties some pressure on one of the big cuts with a towel Yuta passed.

They arrive at a small house. Apparently he is a doctor who always handle them. Doctor Choi Minho.

He quickly takes over (y/n). Checking her vitality, cleans all her blood and quickly decides she needs a few stitches. He checks her left hand and luckily it's not getting worse. Her left foot however was swollen.

Taeyong is pale.. he is busy thinking of what to say to Jaehyun... while Sehun, he just feels the same pain.

Amazingly her swollen leg has no fractures nor damage. It's swollen because the hit was quite hard. Other than that Minho only need to stitch a few deep cuts.

He finishes stitching her left arm, knee, elbow, and chin.

Minho lets them wait for her to wake up in the small check up room. There's a bed there and a chair. Sehun volunteers to look after her and Taeyong plus Yuta who are still thinking their way to tell Jaehyun.. thanks Sehun for taking the responsibility.

Quarter hour passed.

"Sehun?" Her soft hoarse voice greets Sehun's hearing. He is alert from his daze.

"You're awake.." Sehun pulls his chair closer to listen to her small volume.

She darts her eyes to look around and scrunches her face

"This is not my room."

"Uhum. You're in Dr. Minho's practice room."

"The race.. did I lost?" She asked

Sehun doesn't want to tell her the truth. She just risks her life and well being for the money she won.. but Kai.. Kai ruined everything.

Sehun sheepishly erases the gaps between them and places a kiss on her forehead.

She chuckles and swiftly keeps Sehun frozen on his chair "What good are those lips doing up there. I woke up and saw a god in front of me.."

Sehun blushes "Your brother will kill me."

"He won't.. he doesn't know what happened here." She eagerly smiles and Sehun can see Jaehyun's smile there but way more sweeter.

Like hypnotized by her playful gaze, Sehun leans down to reach for her lips. His hand carefully reach for her cheeks instead of the sewn chin. She closes her eyes and melts herself to the sweet passionate emotional kiss they exchange.

It is a fleeting kiss, too short for their liking but enough to make the two gasping for air. They parted just in time when Jaehyun bursts through the door. Sehun leaves the two of them alone.

"Thank goodness you're still in one piece! Taeyong almost lost his head if it's not because you called me earlier and practically forced me to allow you race. See?! I'm actually right about warning you something bad might happen... and see.." Jaehyun instinctively scolds his sister just like how brothers will act in this condition.

"Aish you make my head hurts.. it's not Taeyong's fault. I forced him too to let me play." I close my eyes when the head ache returns.

"I won't scold you more.. I think you're big enough to learn from your mistakes. I'm just worried sick okay. I scold you for your own good. Hyung loves you and doesn't want to lose you." Jaehyun smoothens her hair and leans to peck her cheek.

"(y/n) for this one time.. please listen to me. Don't race until you get better." Jaehyun stares into her eyes.

She nods helplessly and reaches for his hand "I promise. But please let me get to know Sehun." She bites her lips and blushes upon telling her request. Well she knows the rule that all men are to be qualified by Jaehyun first.. and she just feels the burning desire in her heart when she sees Sehun.

Jaehyun thinks for a moment and finally gives her an answer. "Alright. You can get to know him. But no dating or sleeping together. You can't bargain about that."

She rolls her eyes "I'm only going to walk to grab bubble teas with him.. or maybe watch a movie together. Gosh I'm still young bro. I need a friend to study and I think Sehun hyung is a nice learning buddy."

Jaehyun smiles and stands up from his seat. "Fine. You are allowed to go out with Sehun. Just be open to me okay. I trust you."

"Hyung, you're the best! Now help me go home." she gives him a two thumbs up, opens her hand to be carried by Jaehyun and she hangs on his back.

They thank Dr.Minho and make their way back to their apartment. Jaehyun is bringing (y/n) to his apartment tonight to look after her and the long ass ride back home she totally knocks herself to a deep sleep.

Sehun smiles inside his heart when he overheard the deal the brother and sister made.. well Sehun accidentally heard them when he was told to call them out to go home. And Sehun's in cloud 9 when Jaehyun allows her to see him.

He promises himself he'll be a good friend and a good guardian. He knows a lot of good bubble tea cafes and Sehun is brilliant in his studies. He can't wait for their first meeting...outside the race track.

CONTINUE TO NEXT CHAPTER

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wombathos · 5 years ago

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just saw one of the worst posts I’ve seen in a while and while I’m usually hesitant to screenshot-dunk and it probably wasn’t made with malicious intentions but rather just comes from a place of profound ignorance, it is pretty horrific and..... okay y’know what here’s the link to it. and like it’s a mess the whole way through but there’s so much going on here that I’m just gonna run through a few of those things in whatever the tumblr-equivalent of a subtweet is:

It is generally a bad idea to use the Holocaust as a plot device. It is an even worse idea to want the Holocaust to be used as a plot device for the sake of your ship between two non-Jewish characters. If your show is about time-travelling and your main character regularly saves a lot of people, the best thing to do with that bit of history is stay away because obviously the main character can’t change it but trying to justify not changing it is.... eh, how do you say... bad. At most you can use it as a backdrop in another country with its own experiences of WWII (c.f. Empty Child/Doctor Dances) or you can essentially tell a story about something completely different (Let’s Kill Hitler - which understands the show cannot kill Hitler and it’s distasteful to have an episode handwringing about it but does have that moment where they imply River Song is worse than Hitler, which, bad idea). Another franchise that’s amply demonstrated why this kind of alternative-universe-but-not-really-in-the-context-of-world-war-ii is a bad idea is Fantastic Beasts, a limping reminder of why your answer to ‘why didn’t wizards stop the holocaust’ should be ‘ehhhh let’s not talk about it’, not ‘magic hitler was trying to stop the holocaust’

What genre fiction does allow you to do is to take a sideways look at any of the aspects of the Holocaust people feel compelled to interpret and examine through fiction: whether the rise of fascism or industrialised mass killing or resisting authoritarianism or genocide (though there is a tendency for American media in particular to visually code its baddies as Nazis while refusing to engage with any of these issues on a substantive level, but let’s not get into that). Someone in the reply to the same post said something along the lines of ‘don’t these people know what the Daleks are based on’ and..... yes, of course they are, but the ‘based on’ tells you why it’s different. Sff gives us the space to tell these stories with - ideally - safe distance. The real ‘let’s kill Hitler’ story wasn’t the eponymous episode, it was Magician’s Apprentice/Witch’s Familiar - but because Davros isn’t Hitler but merely shares some of the same features (i.e. will grow up to be responsible for genocide), you can tackle those thorny moral issues without dealing with living, painful history (the other thing OP mentioned was making this whole bit of history a fixed point in history *sigh*, which is similar to the plot of the episode Fires of Pompeii except that this is different for several reasons because it’s a lot, lot further in the past and is less painful/contentious, and is also a natural disaster rather than a man-engineered atrocity). In the context of the show’s long history, the Daleks have been used to illustrate or tackle various aspects of the Nazis - as have various other villains - but it would be different if you had actual Nazis in those episodes because Daleks are fictional pepperpots who haven’t actually killed any real people. Take any episode with the Daleks in it and replace the word ‘dalek’ with ‘nazi’ and quite rightly the end product would be accused of trivialising the Nazis, because fiction and reality are not the same and you need a degree of caution when dealing with real-world history that is simply not comparable to its equivalent in fiction.

That’s the short version on why it would generally be extremely hard to write something in genre fiction on the Holocaust where realistically a protagonist would have the power to change it. There’s also a reason why Doctor Who specifically might be best to stay away from it: it’s a ‘family’ TV show. While there’s been plenty of thematically dark material throughout the show’s history, there’s still going to be limits on what they let four-year olds see. Any episode that doesn’t shy away from its horror to the extent that they’d show a concentration camp (another gem from OP’s post) would either not make it to the beeb’s kid-friendly programming or would be watered down in a way that is frankly insulting. I know opinions differ on this and I’m sure some people find books like The Boy in the Striped Pyjamas a helpful teaching resource (though that book is additionally bad for a specific reason I’ll also come back to). My personal view is that at some point you should introduce children to material that at least attempts to capture the true horror of the Holocaust rather than a watered-down version that may end up being the only thing they ever see, but... like... while I am aware of Doctor Who’s original remit and think some historical episodes could be helpful in introducing kids to certain periods.... not this one.

Which brings us to the really really bad bit of this specific post, the idea that this should all be done in service of a ship, and specifically in response to a moment in the previous series where the white protagonist removed the disguise of the antagonist of colour and left him at the mercy of Nazi soldiers in WWII Paris - and it is never addressed again. Now. That was bad and frankly for me served as even more explanation why perhaps the show should stay away from the Nazis and certainly not do... that. Using the plight of Holocaust victims as a way to remedy that would be.... not exactly better. You are using their suffering in a way that is fundamentally not about their stories - and here TBITSP is relevant again because it focused on the child of a Nazi officer and that family’s suffering while using a Jewish child as essentially a walking plot device; which is remarkably similar to what OP is suggesting. This isn’t just some nice historical backdrop. You aren’t fixing anything. All it ends up doing is making light of the horrific suffering real people endured for fictional angst. However much you would try to ‘flesh out’ the Jewish character in question, it still wouldn’t be a story about them. The show has plenty of powerful analogies at its disposal to discuss history and morality - use those instead.

And lastly, and I cannot believe I am saying this, but coming from Switzerland of all places doesn’t give you a special insight into the Holocaust. Learning about it in school doesn’t make you an expert. Again, I don’t think OP was actively malicious but they are very wrong and it frustrates me that the post is gaining any traction at all. The way it’s framed and the tags on the first post make obvious that this was entirely about a ship. Speculating about whether the Master would’ve avoided being trapped in a concentration camp in the notes (I’m sure they didn’t mean to imply that this was something that could’ve been avoided with enough intelligence and yet) or whether the Master (currently played by an actor of colour) would support genocide because he was helping Nazis (and yes the episodes in question already went there but they sure shouldn’t have!) is just remarkably disrespectful. I’m usually of the ‘do whatever you want’ view when it comes to fandom but there are limits and apparently this one’s mine especially a week after there was the whole journalist writing anne frank fanfiction discourse. Think before you post.

#i don't have any clue how to tag this apart from *screams*#eh trying to figure out what people might have blacklisted #cw holocaust #doctor who negativity #txt #the space box show #also read what the person arguing with them said because i'm really only supplementing that

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webrunners · 4 years ago

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cipher’s entire crew either has trust issues, or they are a trust issue.

Raina fights for the sith empire but if she was discovered by the people who were searching for her or by anyone who would report her abilities with the force, she would be sent to korriban and die. she implicitly cannot trust the very empire she fights to protect. frequent or direct contact with members of the empire could put her at risk. You are able to teach her the ways of being a spy, and make her feel safer for it.

SCORPIO makes her untrustworthiness clear from the start, and explains to you that she has no feelings of loyalty to you or anyone else. at first the only reason she does not kill you is because she has been programmed against it; and by the time she overcomes that code, she has decided of her own free will that you are too interesting to just kill. she distrusts all organic life for what has been done to her, and despises anyone who has had a hand in controlling her; the star cabal chiefly.

Vector still believes in the empire, but it is revealed that this belief in him is not returned by his former colleagues, who do not think him sane or trustworthy since his assimilation into the hive mind. he is betrayed at some point by someone who had meant to use him and then sabotage his efforts at diplomacy. few trust him without getting to know him; even though he is now more or less incapable of lying; having been part of a mind system where there is no privacy and no secrets.

Kaliyo has major trust issues and gives people major trust issues. she leaves everyone she teams up with no more than a few months into their partnership, after leaving them with everything she can carry. she has been burned in the past and does not trust anyone partially due to that, partially due to imposing her own twisted logic onto them. “if i leave people and hurt them so easily, people will do the same thing to me.” she is also a compulsive liar. the only way to gain her trust is to be patient, and never do anything to screw her over. even then she might not stick around.

Eckard has played the spy game for an unusually long amount of time. many do not survive to reach his age. he has learned to be willing to backstab anyone; but that backstabbing at the first opportunity is generally a bad idea. He plays the long game, and is able to appear emotionally in-touch with people for months or years before seeing his chance and taking it at their expense. He has very little empathy, but is able to be charming and nice to you anyway. The only reason he tells you this is because you are also in the spy game. He shares knowledge with you, but that does not mean he wont one day use that against you.

Cipher 9 starts out as an entirely loyal agent of the Empire; but is burned heavily by his superiors, and by the SIS. He eventually comes to leave the empire behind entirely; working for the bits of their doctrine that he believes in while ignoring or sabotaging the rest. He is not any nicer to the republic.

The tension in this web allows it to stay standing, so long as no one pulls to harshly.

#|| c: cipher 9 #|| cipher 9 headcanon #|| cipher 9

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wisdomrays · 4 years ago

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TAFAKKUR: Part 1

Biological Change

One argument advanced by those who accept (or, rather, who believe) the theory of evolution against those who believe in creation is this: ‘We put forward certain concepts related to evolution, right or wrong, for the sake of enabling and informing scientific understanding. But you merely refuse and refute this effort. You ignore a lot of biological facts, such as adaptation and natural selection, in order to deny evolution, but you can neither interpret those facts, nor offer any alternative ideas in a persuasively scientific manner.’

By answering this argument we shall show that we do indeed accept the same biological facts, but do not agree about the ‘laws’ which try to explain them, nor about the limits and qualifications for the operation of those ‘laws’.

Unlike other Scriptures which claim Divine authority, there is no proposition in the Qur’an which can be contradicted by established scientific knowledge as untrue. The Qur’an does not underestimate the importance of reflection and argument, but it does indicate that our suppositions about the origin of creation cannot explain the reality of it: we simply were not present there.

I called them not to witness the creation of the heavens and the earth, nor their own creation: Nor is it for Me to take as helpers such as lead (men) astray (al-Kahf 18.51).

This verse should not be interpreted to mean ‘Do not ask questions or do not research’, for the Qur’an encourages scientific research explicitly. It is, rather, a warning about those who vainly claim to explain the phenomena which happen outside the normal course of events and cannot be described in terms of material causes and effects. Since the creation is the great, inclusive miracle, human beings can neither imitate it (that is, they cannot create out of nothing) nor explain it. To attribute the creation to God makes everything plausible and saves scientific inquiry from fruitless uncertainties and insecure speculations. To understand the basic principles of the reality of creation is most important. If they are properly understood, useful and worthwhile aspects of the theory of evolution can be sifted out from pretentious and false interpretations of it. For, in every idea, even if it is against common sense in general, there are some elements of truth. The biological facts, rightly so called, such as variation, adaptation, natural selection and mutation, in evolution theory, should be differentiated from the ideological and metaphysical baggage they have accumulated.

In our approach, evolution may be described as the changes and variations in the form of creatures, especially in living beings, and the genetic and environmental factors associated with those changes. We do not assert that living beings are fixed and unchangeable in their forms. To claim that would imply a limitation upon the knowledge and power of God which is contradictory to His Names, the All-Knowing and the All-Powerful. The creation reflects His Names through its novelty within renewal, its prolific variety amid abundance. Individual diversity is programmed into the genetic mechanisms which, as they unfold and evolve under the prompting of environmental factors, display (for our admiration and understanding) the action in the world of Divine grace and power. The many hundreds of apples on a single tree are not identical, nor are they identical over different seasons-they are only similar. Thus, the first emphasis in our definition of the concept of evolution is change which is vital for the maintenance of ecological diversity and balance.

To paraphrase the Qur’an: God imposes the law of change and evolution as a basic principle in the universe. In the enforcement of this law, He creates pairs and opposites which, interacting according to subtle purposes, are placed in the core of every being. Thus, the change-dependent evolution and the dynamic balance in the universe, have been realized through the intersection of the opposites continually since the outset of creation. There are many verses in the Qur’an (for example in Chapter 55, al-Rahman) which indicate change and balance.

The ideologues of evolution theory, however, ignore the Divine wisdom, measure and purpose in the universe, claiming that the change they observe is an effect of coincidences-random variations, aimless mutations.

In the light of recent findings, we know the apparent causes of change to be mutations, which are the hereditary alternations in the genetic information; the differentiation of an isolated population from its ancestor through multiplying inside the population; adaptation and so-called ‘natural selection’, that is the decrease or extinction of generations which are weak and unable to reproduce in their immediate environment.

Believers in the One God affirm that everything, from subatomic particles to galaxies, is created by Him, that He is Omniscient and Omnipotent, and everything acts under His will and command. Causes are created by God in the appropriate time and space and the appropriate order and combination as a sort of veil for His dignity and might. He only says ‘Be!’, and all the material causes, such as heat, moisture, air, chemical elements, radiation, etc., are. If such causes are seen in this way, if their being brought together into an order is understood to be a response to their need (their prayer) to participate in a collaborative universe-and if their being causes is confirmed by observations and experiments-then, we may regard causes as a useful way to explain biological phenomena.

We know that diversity in a species is realized through mutations in the genetic program, arranged by Divine wisdom, not by coincidence. The evolutionist idea that the mutations are arbitrary, that useful changes can occur by sheer chance and lead to the development of a living being, or that a lot of random mutations can accumulate to enable a sudden leap from one species to another, has not been confirmed by experiments and observations. To accept that the mutations are arbitrary interferences in the genetic order is like accepting that a rocket can be generated out of a sound aircraft by raking it randomly with machine-gun fire. Certainly, computer-aided probability calculations show that it is impossible for thousands of random mutations to accumulate on a living being and change it into another species. Any such change is manifestly against that organism’s survival and would have to overwhelm it suddenly, not gradually.

Some bacteria can be given the ability to synthesize insulin by means of genetic engineering. This is a kind of planned mutation. Such a transfer of ability is, though remarkable, a relatively small change: it is, in any case, only possible because of the relevant ability being present in the genetic material being transferred. It is sheer arrogance to claim that living beings having millions of such able genes have evolved from each other by arbitrary, random mutations.

Adaptation is a biological manifestation of the flexibility coded into the genetic programs of living organisms; it carries the potential, within the limits of the species, for the organism to survive in changing conditions and to sustain that survival through reproduction.

When environmental conditions change, responsive adaptations occur- e.g. change of colour or density of hair, size of ears-in proportion to the flexibility of the organism’s genetic potential. If the organism cannot adapt adequately, the species does not mutate into some new species, it goes extinct. That is what happened, we presume, to dinosaurs and dodos.

The diversity of various human races can also be explained by the flexibility of their genetic potentials in response to different geographical, climatic and environmental conditions, provided, as before, that the changes are contained within species boundaries. Intermarriages between the various races add to the diversity within the species boundaries, they do not yield another species. The working of genetic potential can also be seen in the way that insects adapt to pesticides, and certain bacteria acquire a nearly invincible resistance to particular antibiotics. Insects or bacteria become more resistant, but they do not become different species. Their potential for adaptation is understood, by believers, as a power to survive given to them by Divine Wisdom.

We do not wholly reject the concept of natural selection. However, it is necessary to criticize the extreme interpretation evolutionists make of it. First of all, there is not an absolute ‘cruel competition’ in nature which the strong dominate absolutely, nor a pitiless ‘selection’ process of exterminating rivals in the struggle for food (survival). Rather, there is a dynamic balance among the great variety of creatures which is characterized, overall, by mutual collaboration and solidarity. The killing of weak creatures by the stronger ones is not random, nor characterized by a drive to exterminate and monopolize resources for survival. On the contrary, it is, overall, purposive and beneficial. Predators prey, generally, on weak and sick animals, and this ‘selects’ the fit and healthy for survival and, quite probably, prevents epidemics within and between species. Also, it is manifestly obvious that the apparent ‘competition’ in nature is the outward face of a subtle and complex feeding chain which is vital for the overall balance of the ecosystem, providing niches for great numbers of species, not least those which feed on the left-overs of others thus cleansing and purifying the food-chain.

Another factor affecting natural selection is the difference in rates of breeding. One bacterium multiplies by millions in one day, a fly by thousands in two days. Vertebrates, except fish and amphibians on the other hand, breed far more slowly. From the base of the food pyramid to the top, the production of food increases in quality but decreases in mass, and consequently a lot of tiny living organisms are the food of larger ones. The difference in breeding rates among members of the same species causes rapid multiplying of a certain group, but not the change of its species. An organism with many young has more opportunity to survive in changing environmental conditions, because when the number of its young increases, so too do the combinations of genetic characters. Even after drastic environmental changes, a few may survive.

The concepts used by evolutionists used to explain biological realities have a merely nominal reality, they are far from being ultimate causes. Attributing reality or, worse, Divine power to concepts which can be useful only for building mental models, and ignoring the knowledge, might and eternal wisdom of the Creator, means binding our hearts and minds to nature, like nature-worshippers and polytheists generally.

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duskowithapen · 4 years ago

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Day Nine: Illness

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Pairing: Platonic Din Djarin and OC (AySo)

Sequel to You Remind Me Of The Babe (The Babe With The Power)

Read on AO3

Read on Fanfiction

Bedside Manner

“No, no, no, no, no! What in the Sith hells do you think you are doing? Were you raised by dire wolves? When you are this ill, you do not get out of bed, and you do not try to go bounty hunting!” AySo stood outside the closed refresher door. Even though the Mandalorian could not see them, they still placed both hands on their hips, channelling the demeanour of all the Rebel nurses they had so often not listened too.

The Mandalorian’s response? The sound of dry heaving.

AySo had only been travelling on the Razor Crest for a standard month and five days. They had largely avoided the bounty hunter, spending most of their time upgrading the ship and entertaining the infant – they had been banned from calling him ‘Magic Baby.’ The Mandalorian communicated with them sparingly. He would greet them in the morning with a handful of rations and a stern word to not shut the ship down while still in flight (which they only did once), and then would not speak to them until the night cycle. 16 standard day cycles ago, he thanked them for removing the infant’s data from the Imperial systems they’d found – thus preventing any more tracking fobs from being created. It did not impact those already in circulation, but AySo was also working on that. Five standard day cycles ago, the Mandalorian placed an extra blanket on them during their sleep cycle. They were still unused to the temperature drops on the ship, and as a cold-blooded individual, found it difficult to regulate their internal temperature. Neither of them have since spoken about the incident.

But today their dynamic changed. Today AySo was disturbed during their daily systems check by the infant, who had pulled them towards the closed refresher door with his Force. There, the Mandalorian and AySo argued through the durasteel as to the necessity of bounty hunting.

“We need the credits,” The Mandalorian groaned. It was strange for them to hear his voice without the modulator.

“You require rest, Mandalorian. You are in no shape to leave the ship!”

The infant agreed with them, patting the door with one clawed hand. He was looking distressed – perhaps he had never seen the Mandalorian in such a state. And speaking of seeing…

“Mandalorian, please let me in so I may determine what ails you.” They may not be specifically designed for medical procedure, but AySo could access the entire Holonet, as well as many enterprise systems – it was quite easy for them to download some of the necessary programming to administer first aid.

“No,” was the response, alongside the sporadic dry heaving.

“I understand that you are wary of me seeing you without your helmet, but there are ways –”

“No.”

“I can shift the perception of my eyes to infrared vision. With the sensitivity at its lowest setting, your facial features would be impossible to discern. I do not require my eyes to properly determine the cause for your illness.”

“I do not remove my helmet in front of others. This is the way.”

AySo’s capacitators were beginning to overheat in frustration. The excess chemicals were beginning to build up in their systems – they would need to shift it to their first stomach and purge it. “I am not completely organic, Mandalorian. I do not count as a humanoid to many societies and governments, and thus you would not be breaking your vow if you did remove your helmet before me. However, that becomes a moot point if I am unable to see your face.” More of their organic voice slipped through there, creating a vaguely uncomfortable pulling sensation where their natural vocal cords had been fused with a voice modulator.

There was silence. Then, “Put the kid back in his bunk first. And is there a way for me to tell if you’ve turned your eyes off?”

“I have been reliably informed that my eyes turn dark green when I activate the infrared programming. As I do not believe in abstract concepts as many humanoids do, I cannot swear by them, but I respect you too much to deceive you in such a way, Mandalorian. Please allow me a moment to secure the infant.” AySo looked down at the infant and the corners of their lips shifted upwards by five degrees. “It is time for you to relax in your bunk, tiny child.”

The infant didn’t protest as AySo shut the bunk hatch, ensuring that he had his toys – the silver ball from the thrust lever, a ball made of sticks and the pale blue padded creature (*Krill: A delicacy common on the planet Sorgan, it is cultivated in ponds with a water solution of --*). Returning to the refresher, AySo also picked up a small water container. The Mandalorian would probably appreciate it after involuntarily purging himself.

They took a deep breath, despite being largely unnecessary. This would not be comfortable. They sent the correct line of code to the subroutine directing all ocular operations, and a whimper was torn from their throat as a stinging sensation built up in their eye sockets. Changing the visuals to infrared required a shift of the equipment within the eye. It was not painless. Their nictitating membrane slid across the surface of their eyes three times. It did not register in their vision. The heat signatures of the ship were coming in correctly. Carefully AySo dialled the sensitivity down until their vision consisted of various red, orange and yellow blurs.

A small shape was faintly visible through the durasteel hatch of the bunk. A larger blur was visible through the refresher door. Interestingly, the figure appeared to be missing a head. The Mandalorian must have replaced his helmet – inadvisable, given the sporadic nature of his continual purging. It would create quite a mess should he be unable to remove his helmet in time.

“The infant is contained and my infrared vision program working successfully. If you would not mind opening the door?”

The figure did not move for a moment. Then two thin shapes reached up to remove the helmet, revealing the rest of the body. Then there was the sound of a door opening, and the figure became brighter. The Mandalorian was predominately shades of yellow and bright greens from torso to feet, but their head and hands lit up bright red. Immediate alerts were set off in their new first aid systems.

“Mandalorian, you are currently suffering from a fever of approximately 40 degrees,” They announced, before slowly walking forwards. “I will require skin contact to accurately determine your temperature and illness, but based off your symptoms, it seems to be a severe case of gastroenteritis.”

The figure shifted, taking a step backwards into the refresher. “AySo, your eyes…”

“I assure you, they are functioning completely at an infrared level. I cannot determine any of your facial features, or indeed, many details about your person at all.”

“The skin around your eyes is swollen.” The Mandalorian’s voice seemed worse now that the barrier of the refresher door was gone. He took another step back and twisted, leaning over the refresher bowl once more.

AySo stumbled forward, lower leg colliding with a box they had not detected, before catching themselves on the door frame. They reached in and pressed the flat of their hand against the figure’s back, rubbing in slow circles. “According to research and accounts on the Holonet, this assists in the purging process.” They ignored the tension in the muscles.

After a moment of hanging over the bowl, the Mandalorian pulled back with a groan. AySo passed him the water container and sat down themselves. Taking the figures unoccupied arm, they groped around before finding the fingers. They were so small in comparison to the rest of the body – with the sensitivity settings as low as they were, the fingers were barely visible. “You have clammy hands. You have been regularly vomiting across a two hour and 42 minute time period. You are experiencing a high fever. Are you also experiencing any cramps or other pains?”

“My head hurts,” The Mandalorian muttered after a moment. “And my legs…”

“Based on the evidence, and the lack of other symptoms, I believe you are indeed suffering from gastroenteritis. If you give me a moment to hack into the Felucian government systems…” A line of code snaked through the last firewall. They had been working on this program from the moment they entered the atmosphere at 1.14pm Felucian time, but it had not been a priority until now. Their unique multi-orientated probe – the one which gave them the hacker tag Hydra – began to send them data packets after securing a backdoor into the system for later analysis. “There has been a gastroenteritis outbreak among the general population as of one standard week ago. You must have come in contact with something you should not have while gathering information on the bounty.”

The Mandalorian groaned and the glowing figure shifted to press more of their exposed skin against the durasteel.

Ah. A headache. AySo manipulated their vocal modulator to speak at a lower decibel. “My apologies Mandalorian. I shall gather supplies – please drink as much water as you can stomach. You require the liquids. While I am adept at inserting intravenous lines, I do not wish to do so.”

Leaving the refresher made AySo appreciate the stabilisers in their legs. Walking with such a handicap was uncomfortable. In the small eating area, they found a larger container to hold water, a packet that hopefully held a bland ration bar, the first aid kit, and a cloth. Passing back through the hull, they collected their blankets from the corner.

While the Mandalorian had offered them a bunk, they had refused and instead bedded down on the floor. From what AySo had read of the Uraei, they preferred to sleep in ‘nests’ rather than beds like other species, due to their habit of curling and stretching their limbs during REM sleep. AySo preferred it because the tight area of the bunk reminded them too much of the augmentation pods.

AySo handed the Mandalorian the water container before trying to sit down themselves. The heat they registered from the idling engines and passive electronics threw off their sense of where the floor began. This made their slide to the ground much less graceful than preferred.

“Here.” They carefully submerged the cloth into the water before pressing it into the Mandalorian’s hand. “One suggested method of relief is placing a wet cloth across your forehead and eyes. It should help relieve your headache.” As the Mandalorian busied themselves with that, creating a blue area on their head, AySo placed down the ration bar and first aid kit.

“Once you are feeling better, I will require your assistance with the first aid kit. According to my records, there should be a blister pack of penicillin in there, but I currently lack the ability to find it.”

The Mandalorian’s head rolled a little on his shoulders. “Do you need some?”

AySo felt their nictitating membrane cross their eyes. “No, it would assist in reducing your symptoms. Why do you think I need it?”

His hand lifted in the direction of his face, shifting a little before dropping back down. “Your eyes. They were swollen.”

Another blink. AySo carefully probed the area around their eyes, relying on the sensors within their fingertips for information. Ah. There was some inflammation from the shifting mechanics within their eye sockets – the muscles and nerves were unused to the changes and had triggered a response within their immune system. The alert had been lost in the coding for the probe and deciphering the infrared information. It was the work of a moment to recover it. “It is simply minor inflammation from changing my ocular function. It will decrease with time.”

“Changing your eyes caused you pain?” There was something akin to concern within the Mandalorian’s voice – AySo couldn’t get a proper vocal baseline to accurately analyse any changes in his tone. He patted through the first aid kit and removed what AySo assumed was the penicillin. He then proceeded to swallow two tablets with a sip of water.

“Not a pain I am unused to,” they explained, “An organic body does not easily accept mechanical enhancements.” This conversation was becoming uncomfortable – they were not used to people inquiring about their state of being. “Are you feeling improved?”

“A little.”

“Then I ask that you relax. If you will please sit up and away from the wall for a moment?” Ignoring the Mandalorian’s confusion, AySo tucked their nest blankets between the figure and the durasteel. With prompting and assistance, he was even able to support his own weight enough to tuck the blankets beneath his body.

AySo flattened the fabric across the Mandalorian’s legs in a fashion they could recall seeing in the Rebel infirmary before standing. “Now, to assist in your recovery, I shall go and collect the bounty.”

That seemed to shock the Mandalorian out of whatever stupor he had fallen into, as he immediately began to struggle with the blankets, upsetting AySo’s work. “What? You can’t collect a bounty!”

“I may not find any kind of enjoyment in it, but I am capable,” they said as they crossed the room to the weapons cabinet. There was some kind of twisted pride running through their processor at their ability to correctly determine the position of the Amban rifle through touch. Twisted because it was something they did not wish to take pride in – if they never had to touch a weapon for the rest of their life, it would be preferable. “Please add more water to the cloth at regular intervals – it will be of no assistance to you when hot.”

“Have you ever taken in a bounty before?” The Mandalorian groaned, seemingly ignoring their words. He was now half in and half out of the refresher.

“I may not have collected a bounty before,” AySo began as they readied and holstered the rifle via muscle memory, “But I have experience in disabling individuals from a distance.” They turned in the direction of the red/yellow figure and smiled, revealing their sharp teeth. “You never asked me what my name was.”

The Mandalorian went stiff. “I was under the impression that your name was AySo.”

“That is the name I prefer to use. However, my full designation is CAI-AS097. CAI was the program I was a part of – the Confederate Augmentation Initiative. The 097 was my identification number – regiment and ranking. AS however? That stood for my position – Augmented Sniper.”

#The Mandalorian #ao3 #WritersMonth2020 #day 9 illness #sickfic #AySo #chapter one

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rachelthompsonauthor · 5 years ago

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We all take things personally because we are all, well, people, aka, persons. We live our lives through our own eyes and experiences, right? This is how people argue with one another, whether that’s in real life or online. “In my experience,” or “In my humble opinion,” is how most of these debates begin.

What if you view things from another’s’ perspective? As the saying goes, “Walk a mile in someone else’s shoes.” In this age of controversy, that’s mighty difficult, particularly from a political or religious perspective. I’m constantly amazed at the responses some men give me about being a childhood sexual abuse and rape survivor – what they would have done in my situation, 🙄when they cannot comprehend what it was like for me (at age eleven) or in college.

It can be quite frustrating to explain my perspective and experiences to people who have absolutely no comprehension of what it’s like to live through these experiences, and to be treated as if I’m to blame for what happened.

One of the most effective ways I’ve learned to not take anything personally is by learning and using The Four Agreements, a small yet effective code of conduct by Don Miguel Ruiz. Don’t Take Anything Personally is the Second Agreement. I’ll break it down for you here with examples and how to apply it to your own life as a survivor.

Let’s deconstruct.

Taking Things Personally Causes Frustration

Take my example above: if a man says to me, “Why didn’t you fight back?” which is a typical, ignorant answer from a non-survivor who understands nothing about how the brain reacts to trauma, I become frustrated because I want to educate him with facts and science. Facts and science do not work on someone whose intent is to denigrate and victim-blame me.

The onus is on me to take a breath and examine the intent of the person who is interacting with me:

What’s in it for him?

Does he want to learn more about sexual abuse survivors and trauma?

How the brain reacts to trauma?

How he can help others who have been raped or abused?

Since the Third Agreement is Don’t Make Assumptions, I have the choice to continue interacting with the person and attempt to have a meaningful, educational discussion to move the narrative forward, or I can shut it down and move on, saving myself the possible frustration of what could potentially upset me further.

In an argument, each side wants to defend their position because we feel we must be right in order to win. Decide what ‘winning’ is going to cost you.

I have the choice, here. I have the agency to own how I take comments from this man (if at all – the Block and Mute buttons are our friends on social media). If I’m having this discussion with someone in real life, I can decide to end the discussion or walk away if it’s not serving me or causing me frustration.

I can draw a boundary because this person’s comments are not about me at all – they come from his lived experiences or viewpoint.

And this is the key to not experiencing frustration when healing from sexual assault – what others say they believe in reaction to our truth is on them, not us.

Taking Things Personally Lowers Self-Esteem

Based on one survivor story:

Let’s say your mother tells you she doesn’t believe another family member sexually abused you as a child, and it crushes you. You find yourself alone and desperate to make her believe you at all costs. You spend years in therapy, yet it doesn’t help. You’re at odds with her over every small thing because this big thing looms large over your entire relationship. Understandable.

You starve yourself. You sleep around. You drink and dabble in drugs. You can’t keep a job. You self-harm. All because your mother, the person who is supposed to be in your corner, of all people, doesn’t believe you. When you look in the mirror, you hate your reflection. You speak so negatively to yourself, even your closest friends would be appalled (all common for survivors, by the way).

Trace that back to the fact that you have taken her disbelief personally. You’ve pinned all your hopes toward healing from this trauma onto one person: her. When in fact, healing depends on someone else entirely: YOU.

If someone isn’t treating you with love and respect, you are allowed to walk away from them.

This is also a boundary, and yes, part of not taking anything personally. What this mother did is terrible, absolutely. What this survivor needs is to stop looking for support from someone who refuses to give it, and realize she’s worthy of self-love and support from a community of survivors and therapists who will help her embrace her in healing.

This isn’t woo-woo shit. This is reality. If the people in your life aren’t bolstering your self-esteem, it’s on you to take action to change those circumstances, not them. If they don’t believe you, you can still seek help and support. Healing isn’t dependent on other people believing you – it’s dependent on you getting the support you need and deserve. Toxic people won’t give you that, so don’t give them anything.

I’ve been in this situation in the past with men. I left them. Cutting ties is the best thing.

Taking Things Personally Creates Conflict

We get defensive when someone calls us out on something they don’t agree with. Our lived experience is different from someone else’s. Intuitively, this makes sense. We fight for what, in our eyes, is right. Remember this:

Nothing other people do is because of you. It is because of themselves. Even when a situation seems so personal, even if others insult you directly, it has nothing to do with you. What they say, what they do, and the opinions they give are according to the agreements they have in their own minds. Their point of view comes from all the programming they received growing up. ~ Don Miguel Ruiz

I see this so much on social media, don’t you? I get caught up in it myself, especially with regard to victim-blaming survivors for being assaulted and abused or raped. I cannot, and will not, ever accept that it’s ever a survivor’s fault for a perpetrator committing a crime. We never blame a woman for being car-jacked or robbed at the ATM, do we? So why do people blame her for being raped? It’s mind-boggling to me. So yea, it feels personal.

And yet…I know in my heart, it’s not. People who victim-blame are conditioned by their own families, peers, news, media, and social media to take a stance that makes sense to them and their point of view, and that has nothing to do with me. Arguing with them, providing facts, sharing my experiences, etc., does nothing to help change their minds.

Example: When an (in)famous YouTuber tweeted: “Anxiety is created by you” (and then subsequently deleted it because wow, so uninformed), many of his bro-dudes supported him by explaining that it’s true – all mental illnesses could simply go away if we just tried harder, worked out more, and stopped being victims.

I’ll admit, I got involved in attempting to educate some of these bro-dudes by sharing that mental illness isn’t something that goes away like a bad cold, or is a figment of our imaginations. Sure, it’s all in our heads – our brains, that is. And so on.

Oy, the mansplaining. What could I – a woman of 55 years, who has studied mental illness for over twenty years (longer than most of those kids have been alive LOL), who has anxiety, depression, and cPTSD, who has written two books about it (so far) that have been vetted and reviewed by several psychologists, who hosts a weekly Twitter #SexAbuseChat that deals with mental illness specifically for survivors of sexual abuse – know about mental illness?

Yet, you see, it didn’t matter. I took it personally. They took it personally. It was no longer about mental illness – it became more about who was right. My facts, stats, and science had nothing on their put-downs and misogynistic chuckles.

There could be no conflict resolution because our values would never align.

Once I reeled myself back in, I began writing this post. I reminded myself not to take it personally because what they were saying wasn’t about me. I reminded myself about my own healing boundaries, self-care, and how to put my energies into something more positive – writing.

Taking Things Personally Takes Energy

As I just mentioned, that interaction took enormous energy; energy I could use elsewhere. And that’s really the crux of this post. Where are we spending our energy when we take something personally? Usually, we end up in a negative loop of toxicity. That’s part of the cycle our brains play with us, a pattern we may not be aware of. Becoming aware of this pattern allows us to change it. That’s what these agreements help us do.

It hurts when people say something negative about us, and we take it personally. The wound festers; we poke at it, and peel at that scab. We’re so focused on the one comment, we shut out everything else, even the positive stuff, to the point that we’re missing out on life.

Example: In my BadRedhead Media business, I work with authors. Authors receive book reviews, oftentimes from non-professional reviewers. Sometimes, these reviews are verging on the ridiculous. That’s just the way it is. Amazon and other online retailers allow for these reviews. It is what it is. As an author myself, I, too, receive these reviews.

We tend to focus on these rare and silly one-star reviews, rather than the majority of five-star, terrific reviews. This is knowns as the negativity bias, which means our brains are hard-wired to focus on the negative, most likely due to evolution:

The evolutionary perspective suggests that this tendency to dwell on the negative more than the positive is simply one way the brain tries to keep us safe.

We’re not doomed, however. By not taking things personally, we are reframing these situations, and using our energy differently. Comments that strike us as negative could potentially be a learning experience, even if we feel offended. Always be on the lookout for a learning opportunity, or ways to utilize that energy toward something more useful.

Ask yourself these questions to refocus your energy:

What can I learn from this?

What difference will this make in my life?

How can I change what I’m doing with this reaction (or do I need to)?

What activity can do I do now to take myself out of this situation?

How can I change my thinking pattern to grow from this?

Listen, none of us is perfect. I first read The Four Agreements back in the 90s, and found it useful because it helped me make sense of a difficult situation in a corporate setting. I now find it helpful as both an author and entrepreneur, as well as a mom. Being on social media and online is a crucial part of my business, so I deal with many different types of people constantly. If I took everything they say personally, I’d never get out of bed.

If you aren’t getting what you need from someone or something, remember – it’s okay to withdraw. You aren’t a loser. Maintaining peace in your life and focusing on your healing will always “win.”

Please share your thoughts and comments below.

Do you need help right now? Please contact RAINN at rainn.org or 24/7 at 1.800.656.HOPE

***

Read more about Rachel’s experiences in the award-winning book, Broken Pieces.

She goes into more detail about living with PTSD and realizing the effects of how being a survivor affected her life in

Broken Places, available in print everywhere!

The post 4 Reasons Taking Things Personally Prevents Healing appeared first on Rachel Thompson.

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