#Watching the new vod if anyone wants context

[gooddaydipshit]

Calling your pregnant wife Krang is probably the most romantic thing you can do

[generalpalacefishgoop]

Tina demon lore

(summary of the Feb 8 stream, skipped some convos so watch the stream for full context also the visuals are cool!)

Twitch VOD ID : 2056565806 (10:18:19 onwards!)

First, qTina started off flying (was a bug & not planned but she went with it as part of her lore)

(side note, she uses her demon voice a lot during this)

Her vision is filled with a silhouette of an eye? It comes and goes.

(...)

(About her flying) “I won’t do it again.  I swear to God. I won’t do it again. I was kidding ok? I was just um- Listen, I should never do stuff like that to gain advantage over others. I won’t do it, I promise. No watchers necessary.”

(...)

Fire starts to appear out of nowhere around her and Em. 

(...)

*covers Em underground* “I have no intentions of coming home. So fuck off! Ok? Leave me be.”

More fire appears.

(...)

“I’m just starting to think that some people are really mad at me, but it’s just because you know, a girl spread her wings a little bit, and that’s fine. It’s fine to spread your wings! It's fine. But maybe I shouldn’t have because it was for a dumb reason.” 

Em :”did you do anything bad?”

”No, I just did a little flying, you know, flying is not bad. Your Uncle Philza does it all the time! Like if I do it, what’s so wrong?”

Em :”yeah flying is fun i bet :D”

”It is but I shouldn’t have done it because now they’re after me, they’re gonna drag me down, they’re gonna drag me back.”

Then a key named “you” appeared in her inventory.

”They’re coming, they’re coming back and I don’t want them to, I’m not strong enough yet to protect you or me or your mom or anyone”

Em :”who?”

”I don’t know really, it’s hard to say.”

Another key appears, named “We will be waiting”

(...)

”What the fuck, argh. I feel dirty. I feel dirty. I feel disgusting.”

(...)

Em :”WAIT EOMMA YOU HAVE WINGS?”

“Some demon have wings. It’s you know, there’s lava everywhere.”

Em :”so you have wings :D”

“Yeah they’re little, they come out, they come in.”

Then a teared feather dropped.

(...)

“It’s not just flying. It comes with stuff, you know? like…It’s sin. It's a great sin. It’s not some theme park ride, ok? It comes with trauma, baggage, sin, hellfire, bad things, torture…you’ve gotta do crazy things to become like this, you get me?”

(...)

“They don’t like my type of flying. They don’t like that shit. Birds only, I guess.”

(...)

“You’re Mom Mouse needs to be here swiftly, she’ll know what to do.”

“If those eye motherfuckers have anything to do with this, I’ll tear them to shreds!

(...)

“They’re mad at me, they’re mad. I should have known better. I should’ve, but it felt good, just a little.”

Em :”i don’t like them you did nothing wrong eomma!!”

*chuckles* “You’re too good”

Em :”how can enjoying what you love be bad?”

“Well…there's a lot of reasons why enjoying what you love can be bad. It's just um- Maybe if you enjoy to not be such a great person you know? Enjoying to be bad is bad. That is the demon way. You heard Mouse. They don’t really understand the difference between good or bad sometimes, they think it’s just fun labels that they slap on shit but there is a very distinct difference, ok?”

Em :”Do you not like mami mouse?”

“I love Mouse. I love her and you know, I don’t really know what Mouse has done or she was just born that way and as far as I know, she’s just a little bit crazy, she doesn’t seem inherently evil, just chaotic”

(...)

More fire appears while she is fishing with Em and a red helmet/crown??

(...)

After going back to fishing, she got an achievement for a completed challenge. The achievement is called "Who's da New King of Hell?"

[magnecalliope]

For the character ask game: anybody! You pick the character you want to talk about!

Hahaha, that's a lot of freedom to play with. I put some of my blorbos both new and old into a picker wheel and got Branzy twice, so I guess I'm going with him. XD

favorite thing about them

I was actually mulling over Branzy's character recently and came to the conclusion that the reason I love him is because he comes from the same school of smart dumbass as Psych's Shawn Spencer (Magne's proto-Branzy, if you will). Fast-talking, charismatic charmers that get everyone to go along with them by simply bombarding them with too much stimuli to argue. Unassuming to most, sharper than expected. He knows how to turn his weaknesses into advantages and he is immune to feelings of embarrassment. If everyone's perception of him is as a bad pvper, well then he will be the worst pvper. If everyone's perception of him is as a liar, he'll exaggerate how he lies so you think you can tell the difference. If everyone's perception of him is as a betrayer, then sure. He'll totally betray Clown this time guys. No, for real. You can trust him. I mean it's so obvious when he's being deceitful isn't it? There's no way he could get one over on you.

least favorite thing about them

This is actually my least favorite thing about all of the creators from the Lifesteal side of MCYT, but I hate the editorializing style of video he produces. I love watching multiple view points because I really enjoy having complete context for what else was happening on a server at any given point in the timeline, but trying to figure out which of 20+ perspectives and thousands of hours of VODs I need to watch to squeeze every last drop of enjoyment out of one specific character is nuts. I understand that the ol' episodic let's play style of video isn't exactly profitable these days but my god do I miss getting to see Maximum Content from a series rather than a 20 minute summary with some actual footage sprinkled in like once a month.

favorite line

Not really a line but I think about the "is fear just love in disguise" google search frequently.

brOTP

Rekranzy. They fuck about it sometimes, though.

OTP

C'mon. We all know what the answer to this is.

nOTP

I can't think of any off the top of my head. He's a bit of a fandom bicycle to me, if I'm being honest. I'll ship him with anyone once just to see what it's like.

random headcanon

He is meticulous about his appearance. He plucks his brows, he moisturizes, his clothes are all tailored. Will not leave the house without a full face of make up.

unpopular opinion

Branzy is taller than Clown Branzy is taller than Clown Branzy is taller than Clown Branzy is taller than Clown Branzy is t--

song i associate with them

favorite picture of them

I'm putting my Clownzy lobotomy art here because I just don't think enough people appreciate how funny it is.

[letswritewithiris]

I never just wrote something before. It either was a fanfiction or an original project of mine. But today I was A little Stressed with getting creative when it came to streaming that I decided. Views or no views, I would share it on Tumblr. As a type of "open diary." Type thing.

So for context I'm "letsplaywithiris." On Twitch. I was prior "iris_222333." But the numbers just irritated me the longer I Stared at it. It had to go, and I'm thinking about changing it again in the future to something like. "Iristheirish." But that's besides the point. I'm rambling now ;-; I knew I couldn't be trusted Writing one of these things. I physically don't know what I'm doing.

I started streaming around two months ago, with only one really good friend Watching me. But a month or two before hand, I was thinking about attempting to somehow make streaming my full time job. I love gaming despite being absolutely horrible at it. It was only now. Around three months into it. I have 119? I'm not too sure the number I will have to Link the photo in at the end, followers. All are amazing and just down right great company. But I find, the more I do it. The more it's feeling more real. I'm begining to feal the creative burnout. I was streaming from Monday to Sunday at one point which never helps anyone especally when your doing 6 Hour streams each. So now I find myself taking a weeks break.

One I most definitely need. Looking back At the VODS I realised // saw my views decline. But most importantly it was the fact that I stopped communicating with my audience. My voice wasn't as bubbly and welcoming as it usually was. And for me that was my number one issue. The fact that new and old people popping in wasn't feeling as welcomed as I usually Made them feel. And that was the absolute worst feeling ever. I know I can't make everyone comfortable, on top of wanting streaming to be my career I genuinely want to build a community / safe space for everyone to enjoy themselves. With the exception their adults in the discord and Twitch. The topics are way to unhinged for underage People to be apart of the community unfortunately.

Underage people would have to be a different Post, for a different day though.

Thank you for reading!

- iris

[wanderinginksplot]

Clone Trooper Rambles

Why keep my imaginations/delusions to myself when I can share them?

Warnings: grumpiness, I guess?

---

Routine

“Good morning!” a coworker greeted as I walked into work.

It was most certainly not a ‘good’ morning. Technically speaking, it wasn’t morning yet - the sun hadn’t risen and it was too early to be that cheerful. Still, he was being nice, so I pasted on a false smile and gave a slight nod in his direction. 

“You look like you’re still half-asleep!” said coworker laughed.

“And you-” I cut myself off, biting back the grouchy comment I had almost said. Instead, I gave that fake smile again. “You are incredibly perky for it being so early.”

“Thanks! Good night’s sleep, lots of coffee… It’s a great day! I’m ready to get out there and make a difference and then go home, sleep, and do it all again tomorrow!”

I stared at him for a moment, then pulled my gaze to the computer. Still a few minutes until it was time to start. Good enough. I nodded blandly and said, “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”

The hallway was blissfully quiet as I walked quickly to the restroom. It was unisex and single-person, so there was no chance that I would have to deal with anyone else in there.

Once I was inside, I leaned against the door and pulled out my phone. Surely there was some way to distract myself from the desire to smother a coworker for being too happy this early in the morning. 

“Are you okay?” Stone asked from just outside the door.

I could hear Rex laugh even before he started speaking. “Leave it, vod. She’s a grouch this early. She’ll be fine in an hour or so. As long as that di’kut stays out of her face, anyway.”

“I’m in here for everyone’s safety,” I told Stone, choosing to ignore Rex entirely. “I can’t control what I say this early in the morning.”

Stone eyed me incredulously. “Have you ever thought that you might be in the wrong field?”

“Every day of my life.” It came out a little moody but, again, I wasn’t really responsible for my lack of filter this early in the day. 

“You thinking about changing jobs?” Stone asked. 

Rex frowned. “You love this job. Why is this the first I’m hearing about you being dissatisfied with it?”

“I’m not… I don’t-” I sighed. “I like this job, I’m just bored. I’m not using my degree, which doesn’t matter too much to me, but I know everything every person is going to say to me today. I can take a pretty good guess about everything that’s going to happen. The job is just too predictable.”

"What would you want to do instead?" Rex asked. "Is there something you think would be better?"

I spread my hands out at my sides in a wide, heartfelt shrug. "I don't know what I would want to do instead. I think… I think I just want something different."

"Different," Stone repeated.

A memory sparked and I was half-smiling as I quoted, "Then grant me at least a new servitude." 

"Excuse me?" Rex asked, furrowing his dark brows.

"It's from a book," I explained. "Jane Eyre, one of my favorites. She wants freedom from her situation, but realizes that's not really realistic, so she decides on a different kind of servitude instead."

Now Stone was frowning, too. "That's depressing."

"Not… in context," I started, but a soft beep from my watch told me it was time for my shift to start. "I would offer to explain it, but I'd be late. Just trust me."

I went back out, much better able to handle my overly cheerful coworker. But all through my shift, I couldn't help thinking about it. A new servitude indeed.

---

Previous | Next | Masterlist

A/N - I know I've dropped off the map for a hot minute - it's been a week from hell. But it's slowly getting better, so have a Ramble!

Taglist: @rexs-wife @sugarpuffsstuff @just-some-girl-92 @kimageddon @ladysongmaster @carodealmeida @nomercyforthewarrior @bitchylittleredhead @lackofhonor @buddee @salaminus @hikime @808tsuika @ladykatakuri @shawtyitsyou @bikerlorian @torchbearerkyle @frietiemeloen @justanothersadperson93 @leotatombs @rain-on-kamino @itsagrimm @dancingwiththeplanets @theclonesdeservebetter @murder-of-crows-1 @rosmariner @staycalmandhugaclone @marennial @eyecandyeoz @fordo-kixed-rex @lucyysthings

[inkformyblood]

You Speak Of Grace

Commander Cody Week Day 02 Origins [ @commandercodyweek ]

Pairing: Codywan

Summary: Cody is about to meet his new Jedi, but he will make sure his men are as prepared as they can be. Little does he know that Obi-Wan is anything but what he was expecting.

“Once more.” Cody’s voice rang out as the test alarms died away, eliciting a fresh wave of groans from the assembled clones. From behind his helmet, Cody glanced over the group, running through the list in his mind once again. The heavy gloves hid the faint trembling of his hands as his fingers danced over the datapad, drawing up another scenario. “Test Scenario 00726. Oya!”

Distantly, Cody could almost hear Alpha-17’s low rumbling laugh echo forth from his memory at their displays of grumbling compliance. He carefully ignored the brother at the back — Crys, he thought, judging from the bright yellow daubed over his pauldrons and the dark hair growing up through the unnatural yellow dye — who ducked behind a console and emerged after swallowing down the last dregs of his caf.

The consoles rang shrilly as they ran through the necessary checks once more, heads lowered as the other clones focused on their own work. Cody sensed movement just behind him, but didn’t turn, watching the grey painted shape of Helix, their medic, move up behind him in the reflection of a console.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

Helix’s voice was soft but no less filled with purpose, expecting to be heard and understood. Cody was the Commander of the Battalion, but Helix was the medic, and that was something entirely different.

“Granted.”

Helix tapped the comm on his wrist, shifting to a private channel, and Cody stifled the reflexive twinge of fear that rattled down his spine. Fear was useful, Alpha-17 had barked at the younger clones in the Command Track, echoing the words of the trainers before him, but it was also dangerous. Drawing in a deep breath, letting it flow through him rather than rule his thoughts, Cody switched to the private channel as well.

“You are doing a good job,” Helix murmured, his voice slightly distorted over the comm. “You are already a good commander, and having a Jedi won’t change that.”

Cody didn’t respond, didn’t want to think about what Helix could read in the sudden stillness of his hands or the lines of tension that flickered into life along his shoulders, but merely nodded, his throat tight.

Helix lightly tapped the back of his wrist guard against Cody’s hip in a silent benediction. “I’m going to head down to medical. Over the next few days, I’ll need to check on the troopers and the Jedi to get a baseline.”

“I’ll draw up a rota,” Cody promised, adding yet another item onto his mental checklist. Dimly, he spared a thought for how his brothers in the command track were faring. Their own comms channel had been eerily quiet since they had received their battalion allocations and left in the early hours of the morning with one final message each of “Oya”.

“Appreciate it,” Helix said with an inclination of his head and stepped away. The other medics, Border and Patience, shadowed him like ghosts, barely half a step behind in a haunting unison that would have made the trainers proud.

Cody turned back to the men, tracking their progress as they worked through the machines, feeling a warm glow of pride settle in his chest. This would work. This had to work.

A warning prickled at the base of his skull, and Cody was already turning to face the doorway by the time his mind had drawn the context clues together.

As Helix left, his pace had slowed slightly, and the soft whoosh of the doors closing took longer than it should have. One of the troopers had raised his head, gaze fixed at something over Cody’s shoulder as one of his hands formed the beginning of the symbol for ‘Mother’, a warning of being watched back on Kamino. But the critical clue was the message flashing from the Command Track Chat from Bly that only read ‘oh no my Jedi’s hot.’

“Hello there.”

“Hello, sir,” Cody said, running on instinct as the rest of his mind went blissfully blank. The only information he had been given was a name and a grainy holo picture to recognise his Jedi by. A small thrill ran down his spine at that thought. Possession was still something all the clones were getting used to, and the knowledge that this man was his, was theirs, was more than Cody could have thought possible.

“Jetti on bridge,” Cody barked over his shoulder to the others, feeling the weight of their eyes on his back.

Obi-Wan smiled, the edges of his eyes — so unbelievably blue, like the point where the ocean met the sky — crinkling. “Please, Commander, call me Obi-Wan.”

“Obi-Wan,” Cody repeated with a nod, further committing it to memory. He was grateful for the helmet that was still covering his head as he felt the heat settle in his cheeks. Full armour was cumbersome for now, but it had been better to be safe than sorry.

“From what I understand, you have names as well?” Obi-Wan’s gaze darted around the room; his voice pitched low. “I don’t wish to cause any offence; this situation is very new to me.” He tucked his hands into his sleeves, clasping them in front of him.

“CC-2224 is my designation. But my name is Cody, sir.”

It was as if Cody’s words ripped the oxygen from the room, every trooper freezing in place in perfect military rest. Obi-Wan had to feel the pressure lowering onto his shoulders, but he merely grinned once more.

“Cody. That’s an excellent name and a good choice.” Obi-Wan paused, glancing around the room and meeting the gaze of every trooper who quickly lowered their heads back to their consoles at Cody’s signal.

“I trust I can count on you to keep me right, Cody? I will defer to your expertise.” Obi-Wan’s grin was as warm as sunlight, intoxicating when it was directed at just Cody, and he felt his cheeks burst with heat once more.

“Yessir,” Cody said, snapping back into parade rest out of habit.

“I’m not sure what the Kamioans have told you, but if you’re amenable, full armour outside of active combat isn’t required.” Obi-Wan paused with a heavy sigh, looking far older than he was for a moment before he pushed whatever memory it was away. “This isn’t my first war, but no need to make it harder than it needs to be.”

“So,” Cody swallowed, turning his head slightly to track Boil and Waxer’s whispering, their heads pressed together out of the corner of his eye, “Permission to dismiss the men to store their extras?”

“Permission more than granted, Commander.”

If Cody had thought that his mind went blank before, it was nothing compared to being alone on the bridge with Obi-Wan. In every scenario, every training simulation or exercise, nothing could have prepared him for this moment. Alpha-17 and the others took after Prime almost perfectly, and that applied to his lack of attraction as well, at best able to offer rough support to a heartbroken trooper in basic training.

Obi-Wan began to move around the bridge, glancing over the simulated manoeuvres that had been programmed in with a gleam of interest in his eyes. “If you want, Cody, you can store your belongings as well. We’re going to be working together for a while, and I see no reason to start out with extreme formality.”

Cody’s hands were steady as he reached up to remove his helmet, subtly pressing at the itch that had erupted two hours ago at the nape of his skull as he did so. Obi-Wan’s face softened as he watched him, unable to hide the obvious curiosity in his eyes.

“I can definitely see the resemblance.”

Cody laughed, the noise startled out of him, jaw snapping shut with a click.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he began, but Obi-Wan cut him off with a wave of his hand, his shoulders shaking with barely suppressed laughter.

“Please, don’t apologise, Cody. If there is anyone at fault, then it is me.”

“No, sir.” Cody paused to find the correct words, tapping his fingers against the edge of the datapad as he thought. This wasn’t what he had been expecting, Obi-Wan wasn’t what he had been expecting, but he always had been quick on his feet. “As you said, no reason to start out with extreme formality. No fault here.”

Obi-Wan hummed quietly as he thought, and Cody took a moment to inspect the Jedi he would be serving under. The robes hid much of his frame, but Obi-Wan had moved with confidence, despite the fact that the fabric wouldn’t give much protection or possibly act as a hindrance. Cody made another note on his mental list, needing to confer with the other Commanders once everyone had settled again.

“I think this is going to be an excellent partnership, Cody,” Obi-Wan said at last. “With that in mind, with the full reassurance that you can tell me no at any time for whatever reason, would you like to join me for a cup of tea? I believe there is some final paperwork to go over.”

“Yessir,” Cody answered before the full implication hit him. Obi-Wan would be sharing, even serving most likely, something precious of his, something he had deliberately chosen to bring aboard a battleship, knowing the cargo restrictions. “I’d be honoured.”

“Excellent! Anakin, my padawan—” Obi-Wan paused, and Cody wordlessly fell into pace at his side, a few inches shorter than the other man as he titled his head to continue watching him, “—he never quite got the taste for it, unfortunately.”

“I am looking forward to it, sir.”

Obi-Wan gave him a look, his grin all fond curled edges.

“Obi-Wan,” Cody corrected himself. He felt like a fool to hope, but it was a hope he held onto tightly.

Out of sight, Cody tapped a message into the Command Chat before silencing it, knowing the explosions it would spawn. ‘Mine’s better, vod.’

[angeloncewas]

Ranboo inadvertently convinced Niki to burn down the L'mantree.

(/rp) Niki doesn't get enough love and hindsight is 20/20, so I wanted to point out some stuff about her character-developing (and generally cool) discussion with Ranboo from Doomsday.

Please go watch the vod for yourself! The part I'm referencing specifically is 14:23 - 20:53 and some of the best details are in their line delivery. Plus I cut like 90% of the conversation.

"I screamed at you and I didn't mean to scream at you. [...] I'm sorry."

More of an establishing shot, so to speak; here we see that Niki has somewhat of a level head, especially compared to the day before. It's not that she's gotten past her anger, it's just not all at the surface and aimless anymore. She felt the need to apologize to Ranboo, which she wouldn't have done if she still believed he was at fault (hence why she's not apologizing to Tommy, or even anyone else in the crowd).

"They didn't care about what I had to say, they were just listening to me because I was loud. You know that you're right, but-"

"-They will never listen. All they do is shut you down and talk over you."

This kind of understanding means a lot to Niki. Everyone always talks over her. Always. I'll spare you the whole backstory, but even down to screaming at Schlatt and Techno to have some humanity and not publicly execute Tubbo, no one ever listens.

Ranboo is fairly new at this point, and by extension he has yet to truly let Niki down, other than by helping Tommy burn George's house (which, in her mind, likely circles back to Tommy's actions leading to a poor outcome). Not to mention the fact that he's a notably more reclusive and quiet person; they find camaraderie in being outliers of a sort.

"Ranboo, if you think that we should fight for L'manberg today, I will fight with you. Because I believe in you."

"I think we should. [...] If we don't fight with them, what are we showing them? We're showing them that we never cared about them."

"I- I care about them. I really do. But I got hurt by them. They always talk over me. You know how that feels."

"Sometimes you just have to get louder."

This is the turning point.

Niki doesn't necessarily trust Ranboo, but I believe her when she says that she believes in him, even if it's not exactly the whole truth. So, to her, the solution being to scream when she wants to be heard is incredibly disheartening. Mostly because she's already tried it.

She did scream the day before. At all of the people who are supposed to be her friends. Niki explained how much Tommy has destroyed and how stupid it is to be following him, but they just kept talking over and around her.

Meanwhile, when Ranboo yelled back ("I don't care-") everyone immediately fell silent.

His advice worked for him, but it didn't work for her.

"Sometimes you just have to get louder until they have no choice but to hear you."

"...I see."

During my first re-listen of this scene, here's where it hit me; a complete shift in perspective has happened. They're still having the same conversation, but Niki and Ranboo aren't talking about the same thing anymore.

He's saying that they'll pay attention to her if she yells, but that pause and subsequent agreement has nothing to do with that. She's focused on the "no choice" part of his statement. The idea that she has to make real noise. The kind they literally cannot ignore.

"But our actions speak louder than our words. So if we don't do anything then what will they remember when they decide to pick a side again? They'll remember that we didn't help."

"I see."

And this is where the first seed of an idea is planted.

Again, Ranboo's still on about understanding here. He's telling her this with the mentality that they are going to fight for L'manberg together and she wants an opinion in that context, which was her original question.

Niki has moved past that. This is about her now, not the place she used to call home or the people who don't care about her. If they won't listen to her words (and they won't, they haven't - not now, not ever) then she can do more. She will do more. She will do something they won't be able to forget.

"You're able to redeem yourself. [...] Fight with them, so that they don't fight against you."

The final blow. Justification for her now-inevitable action.

Niki believes in Ranboo, as established. She thinks he's fairly correct. So when he tells her that they will fight against her if she doesn't fight with them - even though he meant it to be - that's not incentive to be on their side.

That is actually the crushing realization that although she has given her entire self to this country a hundred times over (she was ushered in as first lady, she sewed the flag, she resisted Schlatt) they will turn on her the first chance they get. As if they haven't already, choosing to follow the person who she believes caused all of this destruction in the first place.

Niki doesn't need to feel bad for whatever she does next, then. Because they would do just the same to her, if not worse.

"Okay, thank you Ranboo."

When they gather with the group, everyone's yelling. Ranboo asks what's happening and no one answers. No one asks about Niki.

They're squabbling over the country and it isn't even theirs. They've never done anything for it.

She asks HBomb for a sword and HBomb hands her not only that, but enderpearls, potions, and finally, some TNT and a flint and steel.

Niki debates what to do, but her choice has essentially already been made.

(Backed by the echo of Ranboo saying that she needs to be louder. That actions speak loudest. The feeling of being abandoned and imprisoned and then abandoned again. The open space left behind by everything she's lost.)

And y'know what? When she tells them that she was the one who burnt the L'mantree, they finally listen.

[cyberfeather]

✋ for Cendre, the new love of my life please ❤❤

Thanks so much for asking about him! Cendre sure needs all the comfort he can get. And to put it in context, this takes place the day right after his kidnapping, after the medics of the Guard tended to him.

✋ - A hand carding gently through their hair

Cendre groans as he wakes up. His whole body feels numb and heavy. Images flash through his mind; of a dark warehouse; of men clad in black clothes; of their taunting; of the sharp blades they used to…

“Hey, you awake?”

The familiar voice of a vod anchors him to the here and now. He might be hurt and confused, but his brothers will always be a synonym of safety. He’s in medbay, he realizes, laying on one of the largest beds there. Bacta patches are plastered all over him, and there’s an IV attached to his arm.

The vod staying by his bedside is wearing a white armor, not yet harboring the colors of the Guard. So, another shiny, just like him. Something tells Cendre he should remember his name, that he’s somehow important, but his mind is too hazy for him to put his finger on it. He attempts to speak, but only a few gargled sounds get out.

“It’s okay, don’t try to talk. The medic said you’d be out of it for a while. Commander Fox wanted to watch over you, but an important meeting with the Chancellor came up and he didn’t really have a choice, you know, duty and all, so he asked me to stay and warn you. I’m Detail, by the way. I was there when… Well… When Commander Fox found you.”

That’s right. Cendre got kidnapped, and then commander Fox saved him, he remembers it all now, just like he recalls how he cried in his superior’s arms. How he feared his vode would abandon him for not being strong enough. But commander Fox consoled him, brought him back to the barracks, the medics of the Guard patched him up, and now Detail is rambling to reassure him and fill the silence, so he won’t feel alone.

Tears start gathering in his eyes, because his brothers have shown they still care, that they’ll always be there for him, despite all his crack and his failures. Detail mistakes his reaction for distress and carefully runs his fingers through his short hair in a slow, soothing motion. Cendre’s forehead must be sweaty with fever, but the other shiny keeps on comforting him regardless.

“Shh, it’s okay, everything’s going to be fine. If anyone tries to harm you again, I’ll blast them first, I promise.”

Detail sounds so fierce it’s obvious he means every word. Cendre isn’t used to physical affection, but the touch is calming, so he doesn’t shy away from it. Combined with the painkillers, it lulls him back into sleep, and Cendre doesn’t fight against the drowsiness. He has no reason to, when he trusts his vode to look after him.

[shy-septic-dragon]

/srs /pos

Okay, I think it's time I address something I personally struggle with and see a lot in this fandom. This one goes out to all the anxious people who need a little reminder!

No matter what anyone tries to tell you, it is not wrong when you have a thought or experience an emotion that is considered morally 'not okay'. Your initial, instinctual reaction to something is something you can't control.

Examples in the context of this fandom that I've seen many an angry post about: feeling sorry for c!Dream, feeling an other-than-negative emotion seeing a character being hurt, being angry/annoyed with the way c!Tommy acts. Swinging back and forth about the way you feel about a character while watching a stream or vod live.

If you're anything like me, you'll have experienced moments where a thought or feeling arises and you'll instantly go: 'Ew, don't think that. Why did I feel that way'. Here's the good news: that second thought is your actual stance. Your first thought is NOT representative of your being a good person or not. It's about the message you put out, about what you want to think- that second thought.

Also specifically about the sympathizing with c!Dream because that's the most common topic: empathy is one of the most basic human emotions. It is normal for you to feel that. No, you're not being manipulated. This is a character that didn't personally hurt you being played by someone you probably like in a situation that your brain associates with negative feelings. When that happens you sympathize. You're not excusing the character's actions. It's just basic brain chemistry, nothing to worry about.

Possibly crossing into controversial territory, it is also possible to enjoy things you "shouldn't" in fiction. There's a lot of posts discussing the morality of actions of certain characters but also the way real people in the fandom react to these scenarios. Remember that enjoying or debating a character's actions does not linearly extrapolate to what someone thinks of a similar scenario irl.

As a personal example: I don't exactly have the best relationship with some people in my life and have experienced a few of the abusive tactics c!Tommy was submitted to in exile. But, I enjoyed seeing c!Tommy go through these things. Not because I'm a bad person, but because it was a way for me to process my own feelings by seeing someone else go through it. By projecting anger and lack of control onto this character. I've seen other people say that because they went through something similar, the exile arc was triggering and they didn't watch it. Or they particularly enjoyed seeing the good ending to it. And that's completely valid too! Everyone has their own problems/ways of dealing with them. There isn't one correct way.

Finally, while the above example shows the rp can get quite personal/real for some people, keep in mind that it's not that deep for some others. Some people just want to enjoy their character in peace and not constantly ponder about the morality of their actions. And guess what, that's allowed too. After all, dsmp is just entertainment. A show. Whether it gets you thinking, is a place of comfort, activates your creative side or is just a good place for some haha funnies, you can be a fan.

And I get that sometimes these different ways people are invested in it can clash, especially concerning certain characters, but please be mindful of one another. Respect the different ways people enjoy dsmp, respect the people who enjoy controversial characters or dislike popular characters, and respect the people who don't want to interact with others who talk positively/negatively about a character because it triggers them. Please. There are so many people here and we can't all curate to the experience of one person. We have to learn to 'live together' in this fandom space so to say.

As a closing note: as much as this fandom likes to talk about grey morality there are a lot of black and white takes in the tags at all times, which can get really overwhelming. Your thoughts and feelings are real and valid, and if you're afraid a theory or take will get you a lot of backlash you don't have to put it out there for people to shred. Enjoy the content, and just take a breath and step back if the fandom is getting to you. No one has the right to call you a horrible person over your feelings about a fictional roleplay.

(PS I really hope this take is not as controversial as I'm afraid it might be-)

[fantasysamsclub]

so the adventure zone was recently picked up for an animated series.

hooray! good for the mcelroys. i’m glad they’re getting more mainstream. i’m glad they’re able to financially support themselves and their family with this fame. i’m glad taz has a chance to get new fans! i’m glad fans get to see some of the most iconic balance moments animated!

i also think it’s a monstrously bad idea.

(this is long and this may seem pretty mean and radical, but please read before fighting me on any of this. also this isn’t an attack on anyone that’s excited for any of this adaptation stuff! it’s good to be excited for this success. but also there are some things to consider.)

okay! so, up front: i think the taz animated series is a bad idea. i also think, retrospectively, the graphic novel was a bad idea. also i think the vox machina origins comic and animated series are bad ideas.

okay so this is going to get. a little long and rambly. but i’ll try to keep it organized.

1. TAZ Graphic Novel

now, when the first book was announced, i was excited! i’m still excited for the next one. aside from the blue/green elves thing, which i won’t ever forgive, carey’s doing a great job adapting this piece. i’ve met her before and she generally does know what she’s talking about, comics-wise, so i do think she was a very good choice to pick up the graphic novel

there are still problems! oh, are there problems. for example, i think everyone in the novel is characterized in a wildly different way than the original podcast. i can also get into this later if people want to hear about it, but! people have picked at that one before.

out of all the adaptations i’m going to talk about, this one is the best!

2. Vox Machina Origins

alright. context. i don’t know if i’ve said this on this platform before, but i’m a comic book artist (my big project is coming out this year, i’ll announce it on here, that’s not the point of this rant). and i bought the comic on a whim! it was a christmas present to me.

now, i know a lot of people read it and enjoyed it! and that’s great. i’m happy you got joy out of the book, really. i think every piece of art means something to someone, no matter its popularity or quality. and it did well, as far as i know! so that’s very good for CR and its fans. also i think pike is hot.

all that aside, the comic does suck very much.

i could go into a deep analysis of it (i CAN, if enough people actually want to see that?) but tldr: it’s rushed, both in production and story pacing. the character art is good! but you can see the shortcuts. the lettering is. awful. (that’s mostly a problem of modern comics in general though)

and i’m not blaming anyone at CR for these problems! really, if dark horse wants to pick up an adaptation, any writers from the original project should be heavily coached on how to write for a new medium. i’m not blaming matthew for that one! i know from firsthand experience that comic writing is different from anything else you will ever write, and is so difficult to get correct. as far as i knew, matt had never written for comics before! it would be really nice if he had some more resources to get this done right.

but that would cost money.

and that brings me to--

3. The Vox Machina Animated Series

wow! look at all that money everyone raised for this animated series. this animated series that the creators said they were raising money for so they could do it independently. hope they don’t go pitch it to a bigger company to do m--

and, it was sold to Amazon.

like, it didn’t even take them a month.

and in the current climate of how animation is bought and sold, i understand the need to sell it to a streaming service! you need a platform to let people view it, and youtube is in the shitter with its copyright stuff lately, so it makes sense to go private to keep your show safe. and then, you can maybe make more episodes after you run out of kickstarter money. i don’t hate that idea!

but amazon...hm.

it’s probably fine, right?

3.5. Wendy’s

haha remember when CR got sponsored by wendy’s and played their shitty rpg that wasn’t even balanced properly and then people called them out for it and then they donated all the money to a cause wendy’s hated to make up for it (good on them!) and then deleted the VOD off youtube? gosh, good times.

money makes people do strange things.

4. TAZ Animated Series

so, peacock has taz. sure! that works. it’s not the best company to pick this up, but it’s also not the worst. i’ll take that. i looked up the guy that’s slated to direct this and i don’t think he’s ever directed an animated show? which isn’t great, but that’s not what i’m worried about.

you know what i am worried about?

these big corporations don’t care if these adaptations are any good. they just want to cram as many iconic moments from your quirky, small-owned d&d podcasts to get you to give them money. for the mcelroys and the CR crew, it’s a passion project. to amazon and dark horse and NBC, it’s an investment.

you’re going to buy the book to see vax and vex bicker!

you’re going to tune in to watch magic brian!

you’re going to want to read pike meeting scanlan, of course!

you want to see “phantasmal and resplendent” animated!

here’s the other thing. when i see people talking about the animated series, this is exactly what they’re looking for.

“i want to watch merle dirty talk the plants on screen!”

“i want to see the taakitz date!”

“i want to see magnus do the julia scene...”

now, this mindset isn’t bad! no, if you’ve been thinking this, that’s okay! it’s really not my personal thought (i think adaptations are best when they DO change things in the story to better fit the new medium they’re going on) but it’s fine.

we might get tom arnold!

but you know what we’re not going to get?

we’re not going to get apologies and revisions when something goes wrong. we’re not going to get cute extra scenes because that would require more writing. we’re not going to get the same respect for the LGBTQ+ characters on screen. the people working on this show will not get paid what they’re worth.

we’re probably not going to get a trans actress for lup.

we’re probably going to see less of carey and killain.

we’re probably going to see even fewer black and brown characters than we already have.

why’s that?

because it’s a money project. they’re doing it for money. and they want to reach as wide of an audience as possible, right? “really, we need to cut back on this gay stuff so that straight people aren’t uncomfortable. we need to stay more moderate on this project so that more people will watch it!”

(that was sarcasm)

now, NBC has had some good shows! but that’s really the responsibility of their individual writers, and it’s usually in spite of the companies they work for, and not because of them.

once an author or an artist sells their project to a company for adaptation, they often lose all rights to input from it. i don’t know what the mcelroy’s or CR’s contracts are, but unless they have better lawyers than NBC or amazon.....they probably got shafted somehow.

it’s not a mcelroy product. it’s not a CR product. don’t pretend like it is.

you can enjoy it, but please be cautious. this is just a pile of money in a cheap taako costume. don’t trust it as much as you would the podcast.

tldr: individual creators are always going to make more genuine content than corporations that buy those creations for larger adaptations. it’s okay to enjoy these adaptations, but please be aware that it’s not going to have the same spirit or heart as the boys talking about masturbation on a filler show they did quickly so justin could go support his wife in labor.

[alexisnoir]

I mentioned this new TV show about 2-3 weeks ago. Sherlock in Russia or how it’s called Sherlock: The Russian Chronicles had its premiere today on START Russian vod platform. (Variety article)

I managed to watch the first episode there and the second episode elsewhere. The biggest problem I have with this TV show is the lack of subtitles. Any subtitles even Russian are not available. A shame because I know some people that would help me translate them into English and I in return would translate them into Polish. I can only hope the subtitles will become available with time trough unofficial channels like fansites.

How entertaining is the show? How good is it? The acting, the story line? 

Below I present you my thoughts of the episodes available for watching. If you would like to watch the show, let me know and I will point you in the right direction. Possible spoilers below. 

The first episode I must confess surprised me with one thing: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and I presume Lestrade, plus a number of characters, speak English! Since the show is about Sherlock Holmes traveling to Russia then it would be only natural of him to speak the English language. However I was prepared for the characters to speak Russian language from the very beginning even if a part of the story would be happening in England. So that is a big surprised to me, also it’s not the only time he speaks the language. He switches from time to time into English words because he doesn’t know the Russian equivalent of that word. Letters are written and spoken in English. The actor who plays Sherlock Holmes speaks English language very well but of course he’s missing the accent.

When it comes to the cinematic, I mentioned that the trailer looked too sterile for me and I was worried that the show would not have a certain feeling to it. I could count two or three scenes that had this sterile look, the modernization of the walls apparent at first glance yet the rest looks absolutely stunning. The characters clothes are not clean, they look used, old, dirty. The alleys are dirty, old looking. The place in which Holmes is staying looks old, I would presume that the place is old. I can’t say if the place he’ll be staying at is filmed on location or in a studio setting. 

When it comes to the story itself Sherlock is on the tail of a serial killer Jack the Ripper. Watson who is now in a coma and Holmes finds out where the killer run to: Russia. Sherlock Holmes travels to Saint Petersburg.

Sherlock’s new companion in Russia is similar to Watson, upper-class medical officer, Doctor Kartsev – a well-educated and reliable man who is drinking his life away after the loss of his wife and daughter. Doctor Kartsev, just like Watson, becomes Sherlock’s guide and assistant in Russia…

This show is more mature, there is more blood and gore and sex. Yes, sex. 18+ is for that and more. 

This Sherlock Holmes reminds me a bit of Robert Downey Jr and Benedict Cumberbatch put together with the Russian Sherlock Holmes from 2013 somewhere in there too. Watson however and the Russian version of him Doctor Kartsev has a Martin Freeman and Jude Law look in one person. 

So far I have enjoyed the two episodes despite me not knowing the language I can more or less guess what is said or the context of it. Below you’ll find some screenshots from the first episode. (in no particular order)

Maxim Matveyev as Sherlock Holmes

Vladimir Mishukov as Doctor Kartsev

Sherlock is more emotional in this show and has a secret. He is haunted by memories/dreams of two small boys and a shadowy figure that I think reminds him of Jack the Ripper. Who is the mysterious child or children? My guess would be Sherlock and Mycroft but I can’t be sure. I can’t say Mycroft is mentioned in the show so far but maybe he’ll show up later. Hopefully. Maybe Watson and Holmes in this version knew each other since childhood? Also interesting thought. 

As I said, I can’t be sure because he says something in English and there’s a Russian voice over that silences the English words. I need subtitles.

You must agree the colors in the screenshot are gorgeous. They’re either grey, vibrant orange or red, pastel colors too. 

Anyone wanting to watch the show, let me know and as I mentioned earlier I’ll point you in the right direction  😊 Tell me what you think of the show, I would like some discussion. 

[pagerunner-j]

Before I begin, the obligatory disclaimer: the following is a bit of a feelings dump, and it’s more personal than I meant to get, especially since I’d intended to avoid posting personal stuff here at all. When I say “please don’t reblog,” I mean “PLEASE LISTEN THIS TIME AND DON’T REBLOG.”

But there’s a lot I’m trying to process about last night’s story, the friction between narrative and game mechanics, and the emotional repercussions of this sort of scenario. It’s been a long build-up that all kind of came to a head for me last night. Ergo, this post.

To give proper context, though, I need to back up a bit to the first campaign and explain why Percy’s second death, brief as it may have been, was ultimately worse for me than the first.

—

2017 did not start well. One January day I got a call from my audibly ill father saying that both he and my mother were in the emergency room. She’d been admitted for congestive heart failure. He was diagnosed within the day with what turned out to be stage 4 colon cancer. He’d been avoiding appointments, ignoring symptoms, and putting off the inevitable, until the doctors went in only to find that the tumors had spread to the point that there was nothing they could do. I still have a clearer mental image than I’d like of my dad’s scars, along with bags and tubes hanging out because what was left of his system couldn’t do its job anymore. They stitched him back up as neatly as they could, but there was no fixing the real damage. It was done.

I didn’t have much room to breathe for quite a while. My life was pretty much consumed with trying to figure out how the hell to handle any of this. I did manage, for better or for worse, to keep carving out a little bit of time each week to watch Critical Role, because I needed something good to think about while everything else was falling apart.

Unfortunately for me, it took less than two weeks between the day all that began and the final battle with Raishan.

I was braced for possible bad outcomes, considering the severity of the fight, but what I wasn’t prepared for was for someone to get felled in a way that was basically mundane. Sure, it was a dragon that did it, so much of the situation was fantastical: an enormous mythical monster, and a swipe of larger-than-life claws. But what I had to deal with, because it was, of course, described in detail, was an evisceration. It was, to be blunt, my favorite character getting his guts ripped out. And because Pat had to go and up that ante, writer that he is, I found myself sitting numbly through a scene afterward of Kerrek beside Percy’s body, trying uselessly to put the ruined mess back together.

I still can’t think about that scene without feeling sick. I couldn’t even feel properly relieved when Percy got revived. I wanted to. Obviously I was glad that he was there for the rest of the campaign, because I wanted to see his story find a less abrupt end. I just didn’t feel any better about the idea that well, sure, he got a magic fix. It just kind of ended up spotlighting the futility of what I was staring down.

My dad died in May that year, on a Thursday night. I got home very late after hours of trying to deal with things, and found myself alone, overwhelmed and unsure what to do with myself. For lack of anything else better to do, I pulled up that night’s VOD. I couldn’t really focus on it; I kept drifting out and only sort of coming back to. I let the episode keep running for a while, though, at least wanting some friendly voices to listen to.

Then I realized what everyone was doing, and I looked at the timestamp, and I counted backwards. And I froze.

While the party was playacting at speaking with the dead, I was sitting in a hospice room listening to my father pleading with us to let him go.

I only got a few seconds further in before I stopped the video and turned away.

Despite the fact that I’ve watched almost everything Critical Role has ever done, I still have no idea how that episode ends.

—

After all this I went in for my own medical tests, since my own heretofore-handwaved-by-my-doctors health concerns suddenly seemed more pressing. It turns out, unsurprisingly, I inherited all the fun stuff. Fortunately, none of the growths were cancerous yet, because at least my unfortunate genetic legacy is something that, with proper screenings and care, it’s possible to stay ahead of. But I was told they’d need me to come in in another six months, and probably every year after that forever — or until something finally goes nuclear, whichever comes first.

Guess we’ll see.

My shorter term problems were enough to deal with on their own. The day after the test, I found out I was losing my health insurance. Two days later I found out I was losing my job. Everything since has basically been trying to patch things together from scraps. Sometimes things are sort of okay. Sometimes it’s a bottomless pit of uncertainty. Obviously, nothing in the wider world has exactly improved since, either. In sum total: fun times, especially considering I was already struggling with severe anxiety before all this began.

I wasn’t really sure how to emotionally process the ratcheting stakes in Critical Role at that point either. When you’re still watching the show because you need a breather from months of continual crisis, but your beloved characters are facing down things like, oh, a dread god and the very real possibility of everything going straight to hell, it’s…not exactly something you can turn to for relief, per se. I kept on going, because the bright spots were still so good, but I can’t exactly say I was enjoying myself for significant parts of the run, either. It was also where I started to feel a very real frustration with D&D and the inherent capriciousness that can creep in.

In short, I desperately, desperately did not want this battle to go wrong. I didn’t want to have to face a story that I’d become so invested in going completely south not because it necessarily made narrative sense, but because the dice (as they always have the opportunity to do) said “fuck you.” Yes, the feeling was probably more selfish on my part than anything else. But I still hope it’s understandable for emotional reasons, and it also got me thinking again about the entire logic of “that’s just how the game works,” and how far you can run with that before you finally trip and hurt yourself.

I’ve always had problems with a few common things in game design. One of them — usually less of a problem when we’re talking about high-level D&D, although it can still surprise you — is when things arbitrarily become harder in the game than they would be in real life. (Floor/jumping puzzles in video games where you can’t step diagonally For Reasons, I’m looking at you.) Another is any kind of gameplay mechanic that robs you of your turn or otherwise puts you out of play. Varying degrees of success or failure is one thing, but I could never understand what’s ever fun about being stopped from participating in the thing you’ve come to do. Still, one way or another, there are so many ways for that to happen. Failed dice rolls, getting stunned or disabled, outright death: there are so, so many ways.

And it’s one thing if that’s happening during the course of, say, an everyday board game, but it feels different if it starts changing the course of a full-blown story.

Part of this is the editor in me talking (who will have words with me about this post, I’m sure), because she has Opinions about it all. She always wants to keep the story on track, not go off on useless tangents, and not drop things without getting proper resolution. She’s big on structure and pacing, suspicious of too much chaos. She does not get along well with D&D. This isn’t to say that this forms the entirety of my opinion, mind; I can still appreciate the way the game works, and the fact that so many interesting and unexpected things can be born entirely because of the random element, improvisation, and decisions you have to make in the moment. But dropped threads, unfinished plots, interrupted ideas, the things that get lost, or the characters that do…those can end up haunting me.

Honestly, and this is probably always going to be a fundamental disconnect between me and any D&D game: I’ve discovered both through watching CR and playing the game a bit myself that I don’t really care about the game as much of anything except as a skeleton for storytelling. If it supports the narrative, if it gives structure, if it enables activities, if it provides opportunities for play, I’m all for it. If it yanks the rug out from under you just because, again, the dice decided to say “fuck you,” or the rules get weird, or there’s something else that just doesn’t mesh between player and scenario and/or DM, I have a harder time with it.

And it’s crushing when stories I care about collapse or turn sour because the game says so, and for reasons that feel almost cruelly arbitrary — particularly when I’m getting more than enough of that in real life.

So for CR, the ending of campaign 1 was an exercise in protracted anxiety. I was in a space where I needed something to work out, but even the entertainment I’d been turning to was becoming dangerously precarious. Wasn’t the best feeling.

In the end, luckily, it ended about as well as it could have: not without consequence, but without everything crashing down. I felt relieved, and satisfied, and glad we got a chance for resolution with the characters we’d been following for months. If anyone had to permadie, the character who was already bound to the goddess of death was not a shocker, and in many ways it’s the kindest choice; he got more resolution than any human being in the real world ever will. It barely even registered as a sad ending. I envied him, really.

I’ve watched far worse go down.

Meanwhlie, i was also thinking that even though it would be tough to say goodbye to these characters, it could also be a refreshing reset. We’d get new characters needing to find out who they are, what they want, what they’re good at, how to relate to each other, how to begin. Smaller stories, with not everything having to be about the END OF THE WORLD (again). Lower stakes. I was fine with the idea of lower stakes for a while, and less threat of impending death and pain.

Well. Like I said. It was an idea.

That brings me around to Molly, and to story decisions and gameplay decisions that both broke my heart seven ways from goddamn Sunday.

—

It took me a while to come at this part, because it took some time for the thought to crystallize that I wasn’t only reacting to the rolls of the dice in last night’s scenario. That was part of it, absolutely. Luck is a thing, strategies work or don’t, fate is capricious. I wish that several things had played out very differently, and I’m especially upset that the way things fell out, it stopped a story in its tracks that had barely even started. (I’ll come back to that.) So the start of the thought was still game vs. narrative, and it’s part of why I wrote that whole run-up you just read.

That said, the more I poked at it, the more I got upset that we were playing out a scenario like this at all.

I was thinking aloud about this in another post, but to preface it a bit better: There’s an entire meta level to three players being gone last night that everyone knew about. I understand the impulse to avoid metagaming, but it also creates some odd situations, like everyone trying (and failing, because — yep — the dice said “fuck you”) to investigate the area and find out why their friends were gone. So we had to start with a big, clunky process of the characters figuring out what the audience and the cast already knew: that Matt had written Jester, Fjord, and Yasha out by having them get kidnapped. The story is streamlined enough. The gameplay around it, not so much.

But here’s what I got hung up on once it all sunk in: why did this have to be the story in the first place?

I’m not thrilled with how a situation that arose in real life because of pretty much the prototypical joyous event (i.e. a new baby) and something that had been mundane on the show until now (Ashley being away) got turned into a brutal story about a triple kidnapping and trafficking, which promptly resulted in a death. And it says a lot about the underlying plot they’re dealing with, which is not something I’m sure I’m willing to ride with much further. I’ve been leery for a while – starting off with mutterings about an evil god only a few episodes in put me on edge from the start – and then there’s the political unrest and the religious conflicts and people disappearing…it’s all going somewhere really unpleasant really fast.

It’s also derailed a story I wanted, which hurts like hell.

We’d barely even gotten to know Molly. Molly had barely even gotten to know Molly. We got tantalizing hints, and plenty of suggestions that there was more to discover — probably an entire character arc’s worth of material. And then…this. My inner editor? Yeah, she’s screaming with frustration. In any traditionally structured narrative, this would not have happened, because even if a death was in the cards, ether it would have been timed differently so that you could get further down the road with him, or if the character was always meant to die early, any decent edit would have trimmed out most of the details that suggested at things that never got payoff. But it’s D&D, and so it’s the push-pull at work: game vs. story, plus a(n un)healthy dose of “unavoidable meta circumstances vs. the apparent need for A: drama and B: to barrel right ahead into a crisis even though there were other choices that could have been made in the light of said meta circumstances.” And…here we are.

Here we are, with a dead character who should not, let’s be honest, be dead, and a story left hanging, and far fewer obvious options for fixing it than we had at any such crisis point in the previous campaign, and lots of miserable, hurt people.

One of them being me.

—

There’s a reason this shit hurts. Personally speaking, it would hurt even if I didn’t have over a year’s worth of unfortunate circumstances making narrative swerves like this even harder to take. It hurts because the story and the characters are so engaging, because they’re worth the investment, and, yes, because when things go wrong, sometimes they’re for reasons that make me want to flip a goddamn table. And yes, maybe it’s silly to get worked up when they might — might — be able to do something about it. But we can’t count on it, and so yes. It hurts. It hurts to have a source of joy becoming something else, especially when there were so many other options. It hurts to watch favorite characters get hurt and killed, yet still be expected to write it all off as “that’s just how the game works!”, as if having emotions about it is a weakness and to be scorned.

Honestly, I found myself screaming “FUCK THE GAME” aloud last night (and probably upsetting the neighbors), which sums my feelings up succinctly enough that I should have started right there. :\

But…again, here we are, and here I am, struggling with feeling hurt and sad and exhausted with so many things veering toward pain again when I was hoping for something different, and writing big long word-vomits of posts about it.

Because D&D.

(Memo to Editor Brain: I’m tired, and I’m not going to give you another three hours to edit this post into something more manageable, so you will just have to cope. Not everything or everyone gets good endings anyway. Apparently.)

[theamberfang]

Shifted; Journal 552

It seems yesterday morning has shifted my sleeping schedule: woke up past noon today, and I’m writing this at nearly 03:00 the next morning. Though, I’m coming around to wondering how much it really matters for me to try to stay awake while my parents are. Really, this gets back to me wondering what sort of relationship I actually want to have with them (as well as relationships with anyone in general). Admittedly, I guess this is mainly coming up since it simply isn’t much of an option for me to go visit anyone else; I’d probably still want to keep to daylight hours if doing so meant I could hang out with friends.

As for how my actual day went, I spent most of it watching VODs from some British group of streamers. I’ve been particularly interested in their gameplay of hidden role games, like Among Us and Enemy on Board. Hidden role games are highly social experiences, and, as such, I find them to be incredibly mystifying—probably because of how little experience I have socializing at all. Tactical deception and manipulation just feels so beyond me. I’m open to the possibility of being able to learn such things by, well, getting to practice by playing such games, but dishonesty fundamentally makes me somewhat uncomfortable. (Which I realize is actually dangerous given the things I believe in, so it may really be important for me to learn this sort of thing eventually.)

Also, the way I spend so much time watching all kinds of gameplay is one of the things that make me want to learn about “stimming”. In a lot of ways, it’s just a proxy for actually playing games myself, which would almost definitely qualify as stimming. The thing is, I only know about it from context (from posts on my dash mostly), so I don’t have a very concrete idea of what it means. I just know that it sort of fits in with my own understanding that I sometimes just need to let myself indulge in these things: resisting just tends to make me feel terrible without any benefit. So it’s not that I want to learn about stimming in order to stop doing what I need to, but maybe I’d get a new perspective on my own behaviors that could help me somehow.

Theme

That seems like it would be a good enough theme for the upcoming week: stimming, learning about what it is and just letting myself indulge for a bit. I feel like I need to relax a bit after a lot of persistent and deep self-reflection and, also, starting that BNA impressions series on my secondary blog.

Speaking of, just to recap, I feel satisfied of what I did towards last week’s theme, which I recall being to work on those? And a secondary one about...something health related? I did go outside a few times and that made me feel a lot better. I’ve actually been forgetting to tag my posts with “weekly theme”, and I don’t feel like it’s important enough to scroll through my own blog. Point is I feel good enough about the past week.

Really, I mostly just want to allow myself to do whatever I want this next week. I just trust that would end up leading to stimming. If I end up wanting to look into what that means more, then that will be cool, but I won’t commit too hard to it. I’d also like it if I end up doing some other stuff—Rambling, studying, writing, whatever—but it’s fine if I don’t do any of it. (I sort of feel like being lax this way would make it more likely I do that stuff, but I should stop writing such things before I actually establish an expectation for it—though it’s probably too late.)

Song

Oh, one last thing I’ll mention is that I was singing before I started writing this post. I feel like I’m settling into a comfortable singing voice now. For a long time, I had felt like I had to not only sound a particular way, but also put in some sort of discernible effort into my singing for it to...I don’t know, “mean something”? Whatever that means? I’ve mostly just been learning to not try so damn hard, and I’d say I actually sound better that way. Loosening up improves the range I can work with; trying to sound any particular way makes things sound stiff and somewhat monotone.

As for what I mostly sing along to, it’s mostly stuff I listened to when I was in high school (which is when I actually got a music player for the first time). Main ones are Breaking Benjamin, Three Days Grace, Linkin Park, Fall Out Boy, Red Hot Chili Peppers, and other bands within that general sphere of music. I’m not sure if I’m any “good” at it, but what I had been getting at in that previous paragraph is that I’m coming around to the idea that being “good” doesn’t even matter. I have fun with it and that’s enough on its own.

[izzyovercoffee]

Out of curiousity, what's fandom been using as mando'a for 'clone?' I either don't see the part of fandom that picked a word to run with or I saw it and expunged it from memory for the reasons you mention.

sorry @katarnarmor I didn’t see this earlier, I always forget to check messages when I’m mobile B((( 

Also, a lot of these determinations / unpacking came through conversation with @cassiansfuzzyjacket, so I’d like to give credit over to Gena as well. She’s wonderful and I love her. 

Okay, so. The offending word in question is “ ara'gotenir ” from arasuum and gotenir. Yikes. Time to explain why we should not use it.

EDIT :: alternative word to use instead? eyayad. explanation here

( Also, I understand that originally the word was meant as a verb and not noun, but nouns within mando’a are constructed from their verb equivalent. So. Keep that in mind. Also, the supposition that the {also fandom constructed} word for twin ara’vod is equal. it is not, and still a poor/offensive choice, with even heavier negative ties to Arasuum due to the use of vod. anyway. )

This got really long after all, so if you don’t want the lengthy explanation, here’s the bullet points:

if ara’gotenir is used, it can only be done so in a derogatory way, as a specifically structured slur against clones, reasons following:

arasuum — stagnant, remain the same, unchanging

scientifically incorrect, clones are not exact copies

extreme negative connotations within mando’a / mando culture

negative connotations out of universe

arasuum, the word itself, has a very specific cultural context and it is a negative one — just outside of the already negative connotations the idea of stagnation and unchanging already carries

gotenir — birth, give birth

as a verb construction, as in the act to clone, then I can kind of understand it, as a very literal translation across language lines

but even so it still doesn’t apply, because the clones are not birthed, and if anything … combined with the above reasons of why arasuum is not a good word to use … 

can only be interpreted negatively, as a sort of offensive irony or sarcasm

thus, ara’gotenir

is offensive, and/or

literally translates to stillbirth 

so don’t use it in the context of clones and cloning =/

I’m all for world-building, and I can see some mandalorians pushing forward the idea that the clone men are not “real people,” but the thing is … I believe this was entirely unintentional. Also I can’t really throw myself behind a word that ultimately would only make the most sense when used to demean their humanity in very … very specific ways that are devastating within mandalorian understanding and language =/

I also cannot endorse creating nor using slurs for an entire body of non-white men in order to dehumanize them further than the source material, and fandom in general, already does. It does not matter that it’s fiction. 

EDIT :: as pointed out by @silenthouse

aragotenir, literally translated, means stillbirth

Which only lends an even worse connotation on top of the given meaning.

Though ara has multiple meanings that can be derived, it was specifically chosen from arasuum — stagnant, remain the same. This is wrong for a variety of reasons, but I’ll try to keep this short (lmao yeah right, me? keep anything short? anyway I failed so here comes a cut) and stick to the main ones.

the science though

Starting with the literal meaning: stagnant implies that all clones are exactly the same. Here’s the thing people either don’t know, don’t understand, or don’t look up … clones are NOT EXACT copies of each other, and a simple google search of cloning myths would reveal that. 

For this word to be created by Mandalorians who trained them … well. It is, at best, unkind in the way that willful ignorance is unkind.

Okay. Mando’a is a spoken language. But words lose their meaning, or new words spring up as a result of new information or out of need for a word that’s appropriate for the situation. Anyone who’s trained the clones can see that they are not exactly the same, even without the science behind it. But I digress.

the connotations of stagnation (general)

My main concern is that the word stagnant has a severely negative connotation within mandalorian culture, not even beginning to address that arasuum has specific negative connotations tied to the word itself. Then you also have the understanding that it is negative in english … It has not and will not be a word that can be taken with any neutrality in any context, full stop. 

culturally speaking 

At the very core of mandalorian belief systems lies the implied, if not spelled out, need for the people to be open to change, and to eternally combat stagnation. This is literally a thing, and it runs as an undercurrent in all materials, from Pacifist to Extremist and everything in between.

Mandalorians, at their core, are about struggling. Embracing the struggle, in every meaning and iteration that that can be interpreted. Struggling to survive the day, struggling against the rise of an Empire, struggling against a cultural genocide. To be mandalorian is to struggle against stagnation, against a status quo that threatens life, but also fully embrace the fight in whatever manner that means. 

So, the logic follows then that people with stagnation in their name already carry the stigma against them — that somehow, in their very existence, they are already the embodiment of stagnation. Something which they cannot control, and also cannot escape. (yikes, sounds familiar, doesn’t it?)

Consider further that mandalorians are often “very easily” mistaken for one another in a way that specifically reads as a homogenization, or blanket descriptor, that is used to stigmatize them. Follow, then, the train of thought that culturally speaking it’s not a good choice.

Mandalorians may know and use that “being confused for another” as a tactical advantage, but there is a very real awareness that this is not a positive stigmatization (tbh there’s no such thing as a positive stigma or stereotype, but that’s besides the point).

Arasuum in mandalorian culture

I touched on this above, but let’s get to the actual cultural understanding:

Arasuum was a deity in the ancient Mandalorian religion. Known as the sloth-god, the Mandalorians viewed Arasuum as the personification of stagnation, who tempted the ancient clans to engage in idle consumption. Opposing Arasuum was the god Kad Ha'rangir, who embodied the universal opportunity for change and growth that destruction created. Mandalorian mythology held that Arasuum and Kad Ha'rangir waged an eternal war against one another.

The Mandalorians who believed in these ancient gods waged ritual warfare as a means of worship toward Kad Ha'rangir, whose ideals they served, taking on the name Mandalorian Crusaders as a reflection of the holiness embodied by the conflict they engaged in. By fighting wars in the destroyer god’s name, the Mandalorians sought to earn Kad Ha'rangir’s favor, and defied the temptations of Arasuum.

— the wookia (sources in the actual article itself)

So, not only do we have the cultural issues that follow the meaning of stagnation, but we now also have all the complicated spiritual implications that follow a sloth-god. 

It’s irrelevant if mandalorians as a whole no longer practice certain types of religions for the reason that these religions were central in the construction and influence on mandalorian culture, from the onset. Though deities and worship have been lost to time, we can still easily see the worship and veneration of The Fight, even in the pacifists (who, frankly, actively resist and fight for the way of being, and fight for their position in the known galaxy, despite being “pacifists.” regardless of one’s opinions on them, that much is true). 

So to repeat myself …  people with stagnation in their name already carry the stigma against them — that somehow, in their very existence, they are already the embodiment of stagnation, and now, they’ve become the actualized manifestations of what mandalorians, at their core, are meant to resist and struggle against.

Yikes, lmao.

That said, let’s move on to the next part of the construction:

why gotenir does not make sense

Gotenir, literally translated, means birth or to “give birth.”

The clones, the ones mandalorians would be most familiar with, were not born. They were decanted. This is a very serious distinction, for a number of reasons, but let’s break it down again:

literally and metaphorically speaking 

Across different media, one can find different … ah, “memories,” let’s say, of clones floating in a tube. Whether that applies to their memories of development, or things that followed their decant, I have never seen such recollections as anything more than clinically neutral.

Not once, except perhaps in sarcasm or irony, have they been described as “born.” I could have missed a moment of course, but honestly … how they were created =/= live birth. Birth is also not a good metaphor for creation.

and its actual literal translation

Stillbirth.

I shouldn’t have to spell out why this is messed up when used to refer to clones and cloning.

the negative associations when tied with Arasuum 

The irony of using birth for a man who was not birthed, tied with the use of a literal manifestation of the worst possible temptation tied within the belief system, leads to the conclusion that aragotenir, and aragoten, are both inherently derisive. 

You really … cannot get around it.

To say that these cloned men, specifically, were birthed … cannot be more than bitter irony, or sarcasm. There’s really no way to get around those connotations, whether that was the intent or not. 

And then to tie them directly to Arasuum, the Sloth God …

Look. Here’s the thing.

This word, I’m sure, was not intended to be constructed within fandom as a slur. And, I’m sure, that there are mandalorians out there (particularly Death Watch, but others too) who do not view clones as fully human. The other day, I got involved in a disagreement in which the core argument was that clones are subhuman, and this was a purely out of universe discussion.

Within the source material, there are countless instances and events recorded of the common citizen deriding the clone army and expressing that they don’t recognize their humanity. Dehumanization in-context and out-of-context is a very real thing associated with the clones of The Clone Wars within Star Wars universe, across Legends, EU, and Canon.

As I said in the TL;DR, I cannot condone the use of this word. It does not matter that this is fiction — the clones are a huge body of non-white men, and further dehumanization is unacceptable. Fandom already has difficulty seeing them as people, separate from each other, different from each other. Fandom doesn’t even understand that no two clones are exactly the same (please for the love of the stars won’t people google cloning myths already). 

We don’t need another way to deride them, as the word clone has already become, has already been used, for that specific purpose.

Also, we do have another word that just as easily, poetically, and inoffensively, works for clone. But that comes in a separate post, for two reasons: the first being that this one is already too long, and the second being that I want to really get into the why and the how of that word without the weight of this one.

[mrmichaelchadler]

NYFF 2018: La Flor

I stopped playing sports of any kind at about age eight. I had asthma, I hated running, I didn't like being in extreme heat or rain for a goal I didn't understand, and most of all, I hated competition. Film always made more sense to me. You only had to watch what you wanted and there were a million ways to view any given work. Right around the end of high school something funny happened. I started making a list of all the films I thought I should see, the ones regarded as classics, or that kept cropping up in the magazines and books I was reading. The one constant were the films of almost inconceivable length. “Shoah,” “Heimat,” “Sátántangó,” “Berlin Alexanderplatz,” “Empire,” “Out 1,” and more exceeded five hours of viewing. What could possibly happen in such a runtime? Were these films simply elaborate dares? It seemed to me like they were competing with each other, and by extension with the viewers foolhardy enough to watch. Suddenly I found the kind of competition I liked. 

In college I first dipped my toes in the absurd challenge of watching the longest movies ever when I found myself between a Kentucky Derby party happening in the house in which I lived, no car to drive anywhere, and the director's cut of "1900." I opted for the movie, the way I always do. The film nearly defeated me as it refused to end well past the point of having anything new to say about fascism or the direction of Italy's intellectual radicals. Struck me that Pasolini, his teacher and friend, was dead and Bertolucci wanted us to know what Italy, and the world lost, every time someone like the great poet died. And maybe if the film never ended Bertolucci never had to return to a reality without him. 

“La Luna,” his next film was two and a half hours and begins with the death of a father, which bore out my hypothesis. There was something about the length that felt like a plea. I watched the 13-hour “Berlin Alexanderplatz” a few weeks later, split over two days, and loved it. The length made sense. The novel Rainer Werner Fassbinder was adapting was baroque and intricate, and he had to convey with completeness the mindset of a German before Nazism crawled into his and every other German's consciousness. There was also that it was nearly the last thing the enigmatic wreck directed before his death in 1982. 

I've since watched too many films to count with epic lengths, several of them by Lav Diaz, and it's rare that they earn their length. Diaz's work is about wearing you down because he has chosen to make movies about the perpetually worn down. He gets us, or tries to, to see life as a pregnant Filipino woman would, screaming for better fortune and empathy from a cruel and empty world. When the six-hour “A Century of Birthing” ended I don't know that I felt anything except the peculiar sensation that if I went outside I might find myself in the Philippines. A herculean duration is not to be abused, because at its best, a long movie, or even just a very long shot, can teach us to form a relationship with an image. Chantal Akerman's three-hour “Jeanne Dielman, 23, Quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles” teaches us to question the purpose of a camera, its placement in a room, its function as a capturing mechanism, and what it can teach us about ourselves. Jeanne Dielman, like nearly every Akerman film, tells an audience what the life of its female protagonist feels like. The monotony, the repetition, the silence, it's still unlike any film about domestic femininity and objectification ever made, and part of that is its fearless patience. 

I don't usually have cause to sit and think about the relative productivity of runtime but for a fellow named Mariano Llinás. I haven't seen his breakthrough, "Extraordinary Stories," which runs a cool four hours, so had never thought about him or his work, until suddenly they were all I could think about. His new movie “La Flor” was playing New York Film Festival, and it was 14 hours long. Calum Marsh said it might be his new favorite film. I was intrigued. The competition returned. I had to sit through it all in one go, there was nothing else for it. But what kind of long movie was this to be? Llinás himself appears in the beginning to explain: six parts, four without endings, one without a beginning and one with everything. Each would star the actresses Elisa Carricajo, Valeria Correa, Pilar Gamboa and Laura Paredes, and each would be in a different genre. Alright, pal, game on. 

The first part of six was no help in divining the film's purpose or meaning. It's a (perhaps purposely) shoddy b-movie, a story about a mummy's vengeful spirit possessing an archeologist after she steals the old fossil's eyes. The film is (perhaps purposely) a collection of hysterical actions, from the long and busy conversations caught in minutes-long steadicam shots, the frequently howled dialogue, the preponderance of murderous cats and the red glowing eyes of the mummy. I thought it wouldn't have been such a bad VOD horror movie if it'd cut about thirty minutes off the hour and forty minute runtime. It felt self-indulgent for such a (perhaps purposely) slight genre movie. Part 2 muddied things even further. A couple going through a terrible break-up have to reunite to write and record a new album. Their early recordings, when they were together, were massive hits, and now their songs are loaded with bitter, barbed portent. A mutual friend of theirs hears both sides of their story, but she's not without ulterior motives. She's in deep with a strange scorpion-worshipping cult with nefarious designs on the songwriting duo. Just what they plan is never divined because the film ends right when everyone's about to confront each other. 

Part three is many hours itself and concerns rival spies and their shared mission to kidnap a rocket scientist. It's a parody of spy movies but finds time for grace in its empathetic look into each member of the team's outlook on life and the violence that brought them together. This film ending before it's reached its conclusion is less a problem as it's quite plainly just about the puppet strings pulled by fate and the little left to us to contemplate. The fourth part is perhaps the most successful, following the crew of the movie we're watching as they try to create the segment we're watching. It goes haywire as Llinás get obsessed by filming Trumpet Trees and then he and his crew are in some kind of accident that drives them all mad. A paranormal investigator is dispatched to deal with the aftermath of their calamity. The fifth part is a silent remake of Jean Renoir's "A Day In the Country." The sixth part is shot like a series of tintypes, a telling of the struggle of four indigenous women. Then there are 40 minutes of end credits over an upside shot of the crew cleaning up after the last shot. 

There are long movies and there are long movies. Llinás it seems, is just as competitive as I am because there is, quite frankly, no reason this film had to be 808 minutes long. He did it because he could, because how many 13-and-a-half-hour movies are there in a calendar year? Very few, and this film reminds us, there's good reason. He shows up in the middle of the third episode to tell us there are three and a half hours left in the chapter. To put it bluntly, he's fucking with us. When it was revealed in hour ... ten? Maybe? that I would be watching a pointlessly silent remake of one of the most perfect films ever made, I almost threw my shoe at the television. Part of the problem is that Llinás, in his hubris, imagined that he could dictate how the film would be consumed. He put in a dozen intermissions and requested it be broken up at such and such a place. That's all well and good but when a movie is done it's out of your hands. It's not a symphony that has to be conducted at a certain speed, it's a movie that will some day wind up on streaming services, likely watched in half-hour chunks like it's "Fuller House." I watched it all in one day and this movie is not designed to be watched in one day. If anyone involved in programming or making it had done what I did they would never have made this film this long because it has no rhythmic coherence. And if a film cannot be watched whole it cannot be watched at all. 

The various extravagances of “La Flor” could be pardoned or loved in smaller doses, but recommending a day of one's life for an hour of reward seems like just as much a trolling as popping up to tell your audience how much longer they have before they then have five more hours left of a movie. Which is not to say I only enjoyed an hour of the movie, but I'd say in the context of each passage, there were sections that made each chapter worth watching (except perhaps in the unconscionably dull second part). "The Day In the Country" remake is basically numbing and pointless, especially since I'd been on a couch for an entire day before it began, except that near the end a section of audio from the original film appears on the soundtrack and Llinás starts filming single propeller planes in flight, dancing with each other in the sky like synchronized swimmers and I'm struck dumb. In that moment it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, I want to cry. Has the whole enterprise been worthwhile? A director with some idea of the shape of his opus would stop now but on we go to a superficially beautiful but deathly boring text-driven final act. Llinás does not know what he's done, does not know what the competitive cinephile will have done when he's heard there's a 14-hour movie calling to him from the annals of history ... or at the very least the wikipedia entry on the longest films ever made. 

The thing that galls me still, weeks after I've seen it, when I've successfully reduced it in my memory to the best parts--the side-splitting Monty Python-esque digression about trees, the planes cutting across the grey sky--is that it's patently selfish to ask anybody to spend more than a day watching a movie. I was not transported, I was not let in on the secrets of its creator, I was not told about the mindset of the average anybody. I did learn a few important things: “La Flor,” I truly believe, cannot be called a film. It is six films and a middle finger of a credits sequence, stitched together like the "Bride of Re-Animator" for the purpose of making a raving fool out of me, the viewer who took his intentions at face value. Some of these movies are better than others, but none of them justifies the other, and no single element justified my spending 13 and a half hours watching this. I look back on those moments of transcendence, where Llinás gets out of his own way, stops taunting me, and lets the movie be a movie, and wonder if they'd have been as remarkable in a standalone 90-minute work. 

I watched “La Flor” because “La Flor” dared me to watch it, and I have never shrunk from such a thing yet. This is what competition brings out in me and now I'm stuck with the secrets only a full day of movie can hold. A lifetime has passed since I scowled my way through soccer matches, praying to be taken off the field, and I haven't learned a thing. If nothing else, “La Flor” taught me that. A terrible price for a terrible truth, but the planes were lovely. 

from All Content https://ift.tt/2Ab33yy

[theamberfang]

Ought; Journal 542

This is going to be another short post tonight: between staying up watching a VOD of some competitive Heroes of the Storm (Nexus Gaming Series season 9 Grand Finals) and generally feeling a bit off all day with something of a headache. About that headache, I’m not sure what that’s about. It could just be from being in and out of bed in the morning; it could also be from spending a significant amount of time in a really hot bedroom (just because I’d still rather keep my bedroom door closed); it might be dehydration (perhaps related to that former point) or something else related to diet. I’ll think more on it if it persists tomorrow.

Something else about today was that my father apparently decided to try fixing my computer chair—the gas thing that allowed the seat to raise had long been broken—just because: even though I probably wouldn’t bother raising the seat even if he managed to fix it. So he decided to just buy a new chair for me instead, also without any input from me even though I’d be the one using the damn thing. Like, I guess I can appreciate a new chair, but I can’t help but focus on how he’s spent so much effort on something that I barely care about, and that he could have spared himself all of it if he just involved me in the decision-making process. Admittedly, I don’t have a good history of actually being able to talk to him—but that’s because those times were often job opportunities that he expects me to meaningfully respond to right when he offers them.

Anyway, I haven’t managed to actually construct that new chair—that my father went out to buy immediately after deciding that that was going to be the alternative to fixing my old one (that I didn’t need fixed in the first place)—because some of the parts don’t properly line up. There’s a hole that’s a bit off so a screw can’t actually fit in, so my father will probably decide to put even more effort in and solve this problem with a power tool of some sort.

And I’m aware that I’m probably unreasonably salty about this. But I guess it just makes me think of how my father is mostly just about doing what he feels “ought” to be done, rather than what actually needs to be done. According to my mom, he primarily thought to check if there was something wrong with my chair because he had recently fixed his own; it was broken, so he decided that it ought to be fixed. With the context of what I wrote last night, I can’t help but think about how my father being like this—and in some cases actively trying to teach me to behave that way—led me to become the anxious perfectionist mess that I am now. Particularly in social contexts, I really do often feel like there are things that I ought to do/say without any concern to how much anyone else even cares about it, and it’s a general pattern that I very much want to dismantle.

I believe I’ve written about it before in a journal entry, but I’m reminded of a time that my father had me write a thank-you letter for a librarian that oversaw my volunteer work (which were necessary for earning a scholarship). But when I went into it earnestly, writing a couple of paragraphs into the card, my father thought it strange that I put so much effort into it. I found it stranger that he expected this to be a meaningless gesture while still being so insistent about it. It really impressed upon me how he considers perfomative gestures to be more significant, in-and-of themselves, than the way anyone actually feels about those gestures.

And I suppose I feel like this nonsense with trying to fix this old chair but then buying me a new one is another such performative gesture. It makes me think that he expects me to be particularly grateful for this gesture, regardless of how I feel about it. So I guess I’m salty about what I’m assuming he expects me to feel about it, which is quite silly, admittedly.

I’m going to stop myself here; my thoughts are now drifting off to how this could be emblematic of other aspects of our relationship—like how he may have expected raising me at all to be enough in-and-of itself regardless of how I felt about being raised that way—and such and such. Honestly, I’m probably overly concerned about what my father’s thought processes, and all of this practically mythologizes him within my subconscious. Something else to consider and work on maybe.