#colon has found out Things (tm)

[sundrenched-smoker]

HI, ITS FINISHED.

uhh, cw alcohol / suicide mention / implications of a fight.

Toast groaned, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. The past 3 months had been rough, Ghost had left for 'retirement' as he had called it and soon ran off, not willing to deal with the screaming match he started that night. Toast pulled his hand away, blinking his eyes open to the seemingly blinding light of the sun, eyes trailing around to find Spooker peering over him with that same, damn near, terrified look in his eyes. Toast reached up with a hand and rubbed it across Spookers face to get him back up. "Bloody hell, Spooks, I'm fine." He muttered, british accent much thicker at the rate of his exhaustion, probably still a bit drunk from the night before. Spooker scrunched up his face, taking a step back. "Okay, okay! I just... wanted to make sure you're breathing." Spooker looked over at his boss worriedly, watching him sit up at an attempt to comb his hair back into place. "I wanted to make sure you didn't do anything stupid.. or vomit in your sleep.." Toast rolled his eyes, red, and his eyebags were puffed from what Spooker assumed was crying. "With all of my greatest respect, plonker, I'm not going to kill myself just because Johnny is gone for a while." Toasts voice came out with a hiss, shoving the blankets off of himself. Spooker nodded, cringing at the words that Toast said. He didn't think Toast would do such a thing... but it never truly hurt to be too careful. "Besides you calling me an idiot, I know enough of your past from Ghost and your 'I'm a wonderful British guy with two sets of parents and rich and powerful-'" As Spooker spoke he mimicked Toasts voice, it dropping some and a bad British accent accompanying it. "'I'm British. I drink tea and smoke cigarettes like it's breakfast lunch and dinner-" Spooker stopped the accent but kept his voice low and serious. "But god damn it, Johnny, I know signs when I see them." Spooker stepped back, as if he was bracing for something, for Toast to come at him for speaking back to him. "Fred." Toast started, gently turning around and scanned him up and down. "I.. I apologize." He took a gentle step back, showing Spooker that he wasn't going to yell. He wasn't going to respond the same way Ghost did with Spooker. He turned again, letting Spooker watch him put his robe on over his tank top and over pj pants that were grey, patchwork sewn half hazardly onto them. Ghosts pajamas. He tied it closed, soon glancing at himself in the mirror, eyes flicking to Spooker. "My insomnia is coming back.." Toast commented, pushing his hair out of his face with both hands.

Spooker nodded, busying himself with grabbing the bottles of alcohol that sat around the bed and the beside table, sighing as they clinked together. "Smoke a blunt, have some melatonin." Toast raised his eyebrows. "Did. Did you just tell me to smoke a blunt?" "Yes. yes I did." Toast scoffed, rolling his eyes.

It was a long hours later, Toast had forced himself to sober up to do paperwork, sipping off his flask occasionally. It was nighttime now. He was sitting at the dinner table in HQ, whiskey bottle in hand. Spooker inched his way in, moving around Toast to make dinner. "Where's Chris?" He asked, sitting back down in the kitchen chair, creaking as his weight shifted as he crossed his leg. Toasts left hand found its place on the chairs armrest, tracing the indented wood - Ghost would scratch at the armrest with his fingernail, Ghost had scratched at it so much he needed to sand it down, making the perfect spot for his own thumb to rest. Toast scooted down, pressing his back into the chair as he stretched his legs out, soon crossing them loosely. He held the bottle by the neck, blinking as he forced himself to come back from his own thoughts. "Spooks -" He was cut off as Spooker shushed him harshly, listening to the faint voice-mail from Chris. 'HE'S IN FUCKING SWEDEN! HE'S IN FUCKING SWEDEN! JOHNNY IS- Y'know- for being supposedly 'never off the grid' or whatever he fucking said. He's really good at just FUCKING DISSAPPEARING! I've had my suspicions about that son of-' Spooker hung up, huffing and setting the phone on the counter. "Col' found him, Sweden apparently. He's been at the police station for almost a day now. Surprised they let him use their EQ even after he quit and joined us." Toast nodded, setting the whiskey bottle down on the table and his hand soon found his pocket, pulling out his case of cigarettes. It was a metallic blue with his initials engraved on the front of it. Toast flicked it open, pulling one from its spot and snapped it closed again. "Damn, I didn't know he pocketed that much money on the way out." He hummed, tapping the cigarette filter against the table, packing the tobacco tighter in it. "Yeah. That's like. at least a thousand.. for a ticket there, and then the money change.. and .. yeah.." Toast looked over at Spooker, watching him trail off. Spooker was biting at his left dimple piercing. Toast watched the star spin against Spookers cheek. "Whats eating you?" He mumbled, lighting the cigarette.

Spooker shifted, crossing his arms. He closed himself off. "Ah nothin'..." He muttered, Turing to the stove to put the food on low heat. "Ginger.." Toast started, soon causing Spooker to turn around and lesn against the warm stove. "Talk to me. after all this I can't keep constantly speaking like a rubbish man and let you sit here and not speak at all-" Toast rambled slightly, "You let me faff off half the bloody time-"

Spooker sighed loudly, causing Toast to cut himself off. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to Spooker.

"I don't.. think you guys like me, " Spooker moved his head down, avoiding eye contact now. "Just, I know that you've told me it's just how Ghost is. But I can't help but think you feel the exact same way about me. I have been thinking a lot about what Ghost has said in the past.. what he said to me during him leaving. That.. I think is what hit me the most. the whole "Get your hands off me it's not like you contributed anything like I have to this company!' " Spooker waved his hands, mimicking Ghosts body movement from the moment, micking the venom too. Toast nearly choked on his whiskey at the last bit. "When the bloody hell did he say that-?" Spooker looked up at him for a moment. "You didn't hear that?" "I guess not- I must have been half sloshed by then." The ginger nodded looking away. "Yeah, and just... that hasn't sat with me right.. and I've kinda let it take over my head- I.. uh." He paused, "I'm going to turn in my letter of resignation after things calm down."

Toast put his hand on his chest. "The Fuck?-" He snapped for a moment, shrinking in his chair as he saw Spooker flinch. "Fuck, 'M sorry Fred." He started, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. "I'm not going to tell you no about turing in your letter of resignation." Toasts voice shifted, seemingly more sober - a voice he would use on phone calls and in pre-mission prep talks. "But I will advise against it fully. I apologize for not making it seem like you are fully initiated in the team." Spooker squinted at him. "How did you know about tha-" He stopped talking as Toast held up a finger. "I apologize for Johnny's behavior as well, that isn't polite of him, and im sorry that I didn't step in to catch this behavior prior to these events." Toast knew he couldn't comment much on Ghosts behavior, he could barely get a wrangle on the smaller man when he was upset. "I do like you." He said simply, finally drawing from the smoke that had been burning away in his hand. Speaking again quietly. "I don't know why he speaks like that.. he likes you too, it's just how he is. he's scared of letting people in and doesn't know how to do it in a safe manner." He said, letting his hand with the cigarette rest against the table. "You've been a great contribution to this team, even if no one has told you that enough. Your great at fixing technology and taking over stressful situations. You quickly became the token mom friend of the group and stop us dead in our tracks to help clean a wound. You do wonders at picklocking, hell. surprisingly your good with hand to hand combat. I also... gave you I think, a 2 dollar raise for these past few months. For an extra thank you for dealing with me and staying by my side. You're a wonderful person Fred. I understand if you would like to leave, I just hope your next job will be as much fun and chaos like this one." Toast stood up, switching his cigarette to his non-dominate hand, holding his right one out to shake Fred's hand. "I want to apologize for my own behavior as well, you shouldn't need to babysit me like you have. But i appreciate it greatly nonetheless. You are a wonderful, wonderful ginger bloke. I am absolutely chuffed to bits to have had you as a member of P.I.E. I am sorry that this job here wasn't as good as we had planned it to be." Toast smiled warmly, hoping there wasn't too much pain showing in his eyes. Spooker just stood there, looking at Toast flabbergasted. "Fre-" Toasts words were cut off as Spooker had jumped up to hug him, his grip tight. Toast wrapped his arms around Spooker tightly, feeling him heave slightly from a soft sob. "Oh spooks.." He said gently. His hand reaching off from Spookers back to the knob on the stove to turn the burner off - soon returning to Spookers back. Spooker rested his head on Toasts shoulder, sniffing softly. "Fuck... sorry sorry.." He muttered, going to pull away but Toast hugged him tighter. "You're fine, just stay a moment.." He said, resting his head on top of Spookers.

Spooker took a moment, Toast reeked of tobacco and whiskey. Spooker knew damn well he still reeked of that paprika he had spilled all over himself earlier. He pulled back finally, sniffling as he wiped his nose with his sweater. "Ugh.." He muttered. "Thank you... I'll reconsider my resignation letter, boss.." "Johnathan." Toast corrected gently. "Or John, Johnny, I don't mind what you call me, but boss is work only." He joked. Spooker smiled, nodding. "Okay John.-" He shook out his hands, bracelets making a small noise. "Euugh! that's so weird to call you by your name now! that'll take forever for me to get used too." He said playfully.

Spooker turned back to the spaghetti, plucking the lid off of it. He grabbed the spoon, stirring it slowly. It was wonderful to have that weight off his shoulders, it had stressed him out so so much for the past few months. Maybe once this all calms down with P.I.E. maybe he won't quit, he'll stay. He couldn't think of another job that would be even a slim close to how cool this one was. They catch ghosts for christ's sake. Spooker was grinning at this point, aware that Toast was watching over his shoulder that whole time.

The harsh knock on the door made both of their heads shoot up. Toast made the move to the door and Spooker moved to begin to make plates for the three of them.

Toast whipped open the door, grunting softly as Chris shoved his way past Toast and set his bags on the kitchen table. He reached into one of them, pulling out a bag of Evidenve from the police station he was just at. "Johnathan." Toast peered over at Chris with the bloody hunting knife in the evidence bag. His eyes widened, taking a small step back into the living room. "Oh fuck me!" He exclaimed. "You have so much explaining to do John." Chris hissed. Spookee stood there, two plates in hand and listened to the other people bicker. "Hey guys.. guys-" He rolled his eyes, raising his voice. "HEY! Shut up, sit down and eat dinner." He barked, the two men obliged, arms crossed as they sat across from one another. Spooker gave them their plates, and a can of soda to thr both of them "Its spaghetti, but I used leftover bacon grease to cook the sausage and the scraps of bacon are in it too." He walked back over and grabbed his own, standing between them, by the side of the table. "There are orange and red peppers in it as well as mozzarella cheese, and some Colby jack as well. Be civil until the both of you are done, yes that also counts if the other wants seconds.." He glanced between the two of them, smiling softly. "Mom energy." Chris mumbled, Toast nodding in agreement.

WHICH EVER ONE OF YOU TALEBLR PEOPLE - whichever one of you talked about Spooker feeling that pie/ ghost hates him real bad, talking to Toast about it/thinking that Toast also hates him. (I don't remember which bc I can't FIND IT.) Hi, thank u for the inspiration, and I will post a retirement arc!Toast and Spooker fic where they talk bc Toast is either drunk or hungover. they deserve closure. and massive angst.

[cryptid-catnip]

An Unnecessarily In-Depth Deconstruction of the Lore and Problematic Elements of HDG

Why did I make this fucking post. (TWs for discussions of imperialism, cultural genocide, and a mention of systematized sexual assault)

So, to preface, I am going to be pretty harsh when it comes to criticizing the setting and lore of HDG, but I do not give one iota of a shit if someone finds its more problematic elements hot. Hell, I myself have found quite a few of the more fucked stories hot.

Secondly, if you want to rebute this post, please refrain from using Thermian Arguments as much as possible. If you don't know what a Thermian Argument is, it was coined in this video by Dan Oslen. It's only a five-minute watch, but, if you can't be bothered, it details an increasingly common argument in fandom spaces which consists of rebuking problematic elements of media by using in-universe reasoning, despite the fact that everything in a story is there because the writer put it there.

With that out of the way, let's begin.

So, in a previous post of mine, I wrote that The Combine from Half-Life 2 are essentially the same archetype of sci-fi civilization as the Affini (ie, ancient, vast conquerors whose interstellar conquest is so ancient that not even they know where they're from), with the only difference that the Affini are to be seen as the heroes of the story because... well because the writers say so.

Now you may say "Callie! You stupid bitch! Life in the Compact is way better than that on Terra!" and, to that I say "That's a Thermian Argument."

GlitchyRobo (and basically all other HDG writers) made the conscious decision to have Terra be Super-Mega-Ultra-Death-Capitalism(TM) to serve as justification for the Affini's colonization of Terra.

And this opens up a massive can of worms, considering that the Affini canonically want all non-Affini to be Florets and believe that all non-Affini would be better off as Florets.

The reason I'm calling this a can of worms is because the Affini are so vast, so long-lived, both individually and societally, that there has to have been at least one society that was doing really well for themselves, and were crushed by the Compact, right?

As I've alluded to prior in this post, the Affini are a fundamentally imperialist entity and does not care what your opinion is on their interstellar conquest, now go get your mandated mindbreak implant.

I think it's fair to say that the Affini are a shining example of the Designated Hero trope, as for a civilization whose bread and butter is imperialism, cultural genocide and systematized rape, they ARE The Good Guys, because The Narrative says so. This isn't even hyperbole, nearly all of the Canon Guidelines and the Writing in HDG pages are "The Affini are the good guys and are always in the right and are 59 steps ahead of the Terrans and functionally and narratively invincible with awesome tits."

But special mention goes to this line which basically confirms the thing I said previously:

What if you feel okay on your own? What if you don't want the Affini Compact running the show? What if you're already a communist society and are doing your level best to ensure everyone gets what they need?

The Affini response will be, "That's okay, petal, you've done enough. We'll take it from here."

And this line, which is basically just there to handwave some of the grimiest elements of HDG:

(Discussions about systemic floret sterilization and comparisons to real life reproductive violence and eugenics are definitely overthinking it.)

Like, motherfucker, I'm not the one who wrote this implication into the story. It's not my fault you decided to do White Man's Burden IIIIIIIIINNNNNN SSSSSPPPPPAAAAAACCCCEEEE with the femdom plant aliens.

And this is not only wretched morally, but it's just bad fucking writing. It is the closest that comes to an actual rule in writing (unless, like other "rules" in writing, it exists in your story for the purpose of deconstruction): DO NOT HAVE IMMORTAL, ALL-POWERFUL PROTAGANISTS.

The Affini are written like the player character of "That Guy" in every RPG horror story ever, with them being essentially invincible and immortal (functionally and narratively), are portrayed as the good guys while conquering planets and brainwashing people.

Or, to put it another way, most HDG stories feel like pro-Compact propaganda written by and for the Affini.

I was going to end this post with a thing where I say, "well i don't really think any of the writers/fans think that this would be good in practice/irl, and they all know it's just wish fulfillment kinkfics", but I genuinely do not think that's true for many people.

The constant defense of the righteousness of the Affini Compact in the text itself, as well as the constant stressing in the fucking wiki, leads me to believe that many people just straight-up believe that they are in the right, and not just the purpose of being kinkfics, and that deeply fucking disturbs me.

[zavalas-bignaturals-lore]

Neomuna thoughts

From my last post on the ECHO program and how that might tie in to Lightfall, I should add some info that I left out before I move on to my questions. Way back in Season of the Worthy, Bungie released a bit of web lore with Ana Bray encountering a derelict ECHO ship, now named Caelus Station. The ship housed ranks of Exos with cryogenically frozen human embryos ready to begin colonization efforts. We can only assume that Soteria's ECHO launch happened before the ill-fated Caelus Station, though we do not know how long before. The only confirmed timeline mentions that we have put Soteria's launch before the "imminent endangerment" of humanity, and the rest of the ECHO ships launching in response to Rasputin shutting down during the collapse.

So, on to my questions about the relationship between Soteria's launch, Nefele Stronghold, and Neomuna. Are these three all truly the same thing? That seems to be the consensus among Destiny lore junkies, but I'd like to explore some other options as well. The driving force behind this surrounds a critical missing piece of info. How in the world does Rasputin know anything about Nefele Stronghold?

Rasputin shut down during the collapse and is only brought back online during the events of Destiny. In this case, there are two windows of time for him to have learned of the ECHO ship as Nefele Stronghold, either during the indeterminate time between the launch and the collapse, or during the time since his reactivation in Destiny. While the former is indeterminate, I am led to believe that the time until the collapse was relatively short, given the "imminent endangerment" of humanity. It is possible that during this time the ECHO ship was able to get set up and transmit back to humanity and the warmind. If so, it is conceivable that Rasputin would have been able to set up protections for the now designated Nefele Stronghold that he could then bring offline when he activated his YUGA SUNDOWN protocol as described in the lore tab "TM-Moss Custom Duster."

The simplest answer for the lore is that it doesn’t matter how Rasputin found out about Nefele Stronghold, all that matters is that he did. That answer doesn’t satisfy me though, so let’s keep digging.

My next proposed theory shifts Nefele Stronghold to being a midway point, so to speak. In one of the ending dialogs to this season’s Heist Battlegrounds, it is noted that the Stronghold designation belongs to “colonization efforts... and anti-extinction vaults.” If Nefele Stronghold is an anti-extinction vault, it is conceivable then that it is related to the Koranthin network and then has information on every launched ECHO ship. This gives us something to do as pert of the season finale in a few weeks. A nice little bunker raid that locks in a new destination for Lightfall. This covers the hole of missing information on Rasputin as well. If Nefele Stronghold is an anti-extinction vault, then of course Rasputin knows of it, it would have been established prior to the colapse.This also gives all the more reason for him to have totally deleted record of it. That’s nice, neat lore, all tied up with a bow. I have one more theory however.

What if Nefele is a red herring? As part of the myth that a lot of this theory is predicated on (Nephele a Greek nymph/spirit of clouds > cloud city > Neomuna), Nephele was created by Zeus (or Oceanos) in the image of Hera to trick Ixion, a son of Ares. One of many titles that Zeus held was Soter, the male counterpart to Soteria. If you will indulge me with the ultimate spinfoil hat, in this metaphor, we sub in Rasputin for Zeus, and this becomes a plot for Rasputin to have faked deleted records for Nefele Stronghold to protect any chance of any of the ECHO ships having escaped. To be clear, I don’t really subscribe to this one, it’s just a wild and fun theory that I want written down for posterity. Just in case it turns out to have merit. Bungie does like to tell a story in their names, after all.

[headspacedeficit]

Ch. 5-8

There are 3 flavors of Catholic in this house of sin and they all intersect and clash in interesting ways. I am reminded of that post that explains how Christianity tries to present itself as "we are all children of god, yada, yada, yada." I would say it sounds like colonizer bullshit, but it's also not my religion.

Oh Victoria, love, that's the PTSD

okay, okay, you've got this Victoria

Mrs. Jackson. Mrs. Jackson, they're sex workers, not the devil. Can you fucken lay off.

Huh, okay. Natane seems to be physically graceful; socially awkward. This is weird for someone whose favorite drawing of the woman so far involves her screaming into her own hat due to Queer (TM) feelings.

Does Victoria have an actual corset? Her last one got wreaked when Earl hit her

I LOVE THE GIRLS TT0TT

HE IS A SON OF A BITCH! (Those pieces better actually be made of glass)

Paul Mason has the vibe of a man who thinks things like "You can't make a sex swing out of ratchet straps!"

I fucking love Victoria

"...It's your home, too." TToTT

Holy shit Paul, man moves fast and with clear intent

Good on ya, Siobhan, woman after my own heart. Get everything in writing and notarized

"...are you collecting the weirdos?" 1. she's collecting the whole town. 2. as she said, she collected you first

Really hope that Natane's intimidating aura instills some caution and thought into these men. Like, I'm not going to bet on it, but hope springs eternal

Honey, it works because they don't see women that often and you're the only bar in town. Also, you're gorgeous

Natane to the rescue! Oh thank god, Consuelo is here

the eat your own horse threat is a little too plausible for rural Wyoming. Emmet is about to be eating a week's worth of kazy

I appreciate how a lot of the men found their goddamn manners

I don't think Mrs. Zhao actually misses Confucius; I think she misses her culture and the lack of All This Nonsense.

I take back what I said about Simone Jackson and Consuelo. Mrs. Jackson has her reasons but I need her to at least be civil to the girls soon.

1st Read of Mrs. Victoria Buys a Brothel by Talhi Briones

[hcsmca]

Q&A with Kate Bowler

After being diagnosed with Stage IV cancer at age 35, Duke tenured professor and author Kate Bowler launched a national conversation about why it feels so difficult to speak frankly about suffering. She delves into how we live and cope with pain and suffering in Everything Happens for a Reason (and other lies I’ve loved), a NYT bestselling memoir, and in her popular podcast, Everything Happens. She is also the author of Blessed: A History of the American Prosperity Gospel, which received widespread media and academic attention as the first history of a movement based on divine promises of health, wealth, and happiness. She has appeared on NPR and The TODAY Show, Amanpour & CO, as well as in The New York Times, The Washington Post, and TIME Magazine. Her work has also been praised by a wide variety of religious and political publications, from liberal print media to conservative talk radio. You can watch her 2018 TEDMED Talk here.

TEDMED: In your TEDMED talk, you describe how people often try to find a reason for why you were diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer, assuring you and your husband that, “everything happens for a reason.” Given your experience, what would you encourage people to say or do when someone in their life experiences a difficult diagnosis?

Kate Bowler: It’s so tough because there usually isn’t much to say that will help–but the desire to say something is so strong! We have an intense desire to love the suffering person but usually it devolves into burdensome attempts to relate (“When my aunt had cancer…”) Luckily, the easiest approach is also the best one: trust that your loving presence is enough. Be useful and available, but ask for little. John Green recently told me something that his mentor in hospital chaplaincy taught him: “Don’t just do something! Stand there.” It’s wonderfully counter-intuitive and absolutely true.

TM: In the past, you’ve talked about how removing the need for a reason that bad things happen, and accepting your cancer has, in small ways, made you able to see and enjoy things more fully, and perhaps in a way you hadn’t before. Do any of these experiences stand out that you can share?

KB: Oh, wow, I immediately think of parenting. I had been on the superhighway of achievement, or at least I liked to think so. And now I am fiercely determined to keep my focus on my deepest loves, especially my five-year old human. There is usually a moment every day that I would have missed in my own rush to conquer the day. Today it was my son climbing up on my lap in his jammies while I was taking a call, solemnly looking into my eyes and whispering: “Can we talk about lizards now?” He was right. The sun was bright and the breeze was dreamy and it was exactly the right time to talk about lizards.

TM: Through your TEDMED talk, and the online community you have cultivated, you spark conversations about both the beauty and the difficulty of life – as you say: “Life is so beautiful and life is so hard.” How has your work been impacted by this online community and the conversations they engage in about the chaos and the clarity that comes with being human? Are there any stories that have been shared with you that you have found particularly inspiring?

KB: The biggest change in my life, after cancer, has been this incredible community I’ve found through my podcast, Everything Happens. As it turns out, I am not alone in feeling constrained by this American myth of self-mastery and endless progress. We are longing for what my friend Margaret Feinberg called “the fellowship of the afflicted.” Now when I speak to someone, I assume this person is carrying something he or she did not choose. One of the recent episodes was with Jayson Greene, whose toddler was killed in a terrible accident. His rich account of grief as the language of love was so powerful to me. In reassembling our worlds after loss, it feels honest to say that our pain is also an expression of our biggest loves.

TM: You are a self described “incurable optimist”. To what do you attribute this? Have you always been an incurable optimist, or did that come later in life?

KB: I have such a love-hate relationship with positivity as a category because I am an expert in the history of positive thinking. I found that so much of what passes as happiness or positivity is weaponized against suffering people. “Oh, are you not happy? You must be failing to live your best life now!” But I have found that a deep, hard-won joy is necessary when facing down hard realities. I may have insurmountable obstacles, but I am focused on finding beauty and truth regardless. That’s why I call myself an “incurable optimist.” It is pure stubbornness.

TM: What was the TEDMED experience like for you?

KB: It was the best public experience of my life. The community there was so absurdly loving and focused on helping me share my experience honestly. The organizers even had a stage manager there to HUG ME before I went on stage. Ok, that lovely person hugged everyone, but I felt so fortunate to be loved as I attempted to do a hard, public thing.

At TEDMED, we like to think about each talk as having a “gift” – that thing that reveals new perspectives and profoundly influences our own – or our collective – health. What is the gift you’d like people to receive when watching your TEDMED Talk?

Life doesn’t have to be better to be beautiful. Oh, if you are hurting right now, I want you to know you are so loved. You are not a mistake.

The post Q&A with Kate Bowler appeared first on TEDMED Blog.

Read more from TEDMED https://blog.tedmed.com/qa-with-kate-bowler/#utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss

[sparrow-in-boots]

Far Cry 3 dabbles in the topic and themes of hallucinations and delusions, either through drugs or mental illness - or to use their own term, madness. AC3 dabbles on the topics of perceived reality and truth, on lies and deception, self-imposed or crafted by external forces to manipulate your beliefs and actions.

Far Cry 3 (attempts to) talk about systemic racism and the harms of empire-building, colonization and globalization, on exploitation and abuse. AC3 takes a native american’s view on the independence of the north-american colonies and the birth of the united states, on the deep exploitation and abuse of the native people’s land and lives, where any attempts to find the good or even the lesser evil ends up backfiring in devastating ways. Both games’ thesis is, there are no winners, all lose and are damaged by the system one way or another, and perpetuate that system in one way or another simply by existing within it. The only way to win this is not to play, but no one has that luxury or privilege, and so we’re doomed to repeat the same cycles of violence that we never agreed to be a part of. That’s the “madness”, to continue doing the exact same thing expecting change.

Both however, fail to take this to it’s ultimate conclusion.

AC3′s dialogue fails to permeate the thesis that was introduced in the main game into the modern day, and how the past reflects on present issues because we’re too busy pandering for the Average Joe(tm)’s understanding of the founding fathers and the american myth. It sets up a story that ultimately goes nowhere and simply leaves the thread hanging, and the closure to said story in the subsequent games end up painting the disfranchised and abused as the “real villains”. They fought for their freedom “too hard”, and now they deserve to be taken down a peg. AC3 begins a narrative that ultimately could have gone somewhere complicated but ultimately enriching for its players, but instead takes us down the most harmful moral centrist path possible. It falls prey to a horseshoe rhethoric from which the franchise never recovers from. Far Cry 3 fails to show more than BIPOC people suffering through the actions of a single white man and the consequences of his and his friend’s deep privileges. None of them grow or learn anything from it, and even if they did, it would still be a narrative where white privileged people come out alive (if traumatized) while non-white people continue to suffer in a system that does not change, except it’s off-screen again. Out of sight out of mind. The richies get to escape it, but the real victims of it will never have that chance, because they died for the benefit of the white protagonist’s mediocre character arc.

Both use quotes from Alice in Wonderland to set up their themes of illusions and untrue realities, but in the end, the real illusion was a satisfactory conclusion to and address of said themes.

thinking about the twins from Ubi’s Alice In Wonderland phase (Far Cry 3 and ACIII)

[2fast2furiousofficial]

cw: ??? Paranoia, parents, down talk, uh suicide and death comes up, it’s A Lot? Oh specific mention of Cancer. I’m suddenly exhausted and struggling to tag. Also, typos. Read this @ ur own risk, there’s a disclaimer inside re: that and if you mention this post to me I’ll be upset. Especially as I’m going to try and forget I made myself internet-vulnerable by posting it. G’night tumblr.

My like, negative monologue and paranoia found their way back to me with strenght instead of being mostly hushed whispers instead of weird moments or almost more like, speaking in faint images, vague feelings - they weren’t real and sharp and present and it’s been to the point where until recently with the flare up i was pretty soundly thinking some of my diagnosis must be wrong or i was weirdly in super recovery, and if everything felt like, still off, weird? That’s just real life? If BPD like goes away, somehow, magically, I would just feel less.

Everything would be. Less.

Also it’s just weird because I’m comparing all my friendships and shit to my ex who was my FP and close friend and then gf and then ex but like keyword in some of that if FP so everything was more constant and intense so no wonder other friendships don’t match it, fuck, will other romantic relationships?

Like I’m still not bothered too much, I am ultimately okay with being single I think but also like.

I dunno!

But like friends. friends friends friends.

I’m struggling what to do with any of all of them and if you’re a friend I talk to with any goddamn regularity see your way out of this tumblr post. Or like proceed at ur own risk I’m not trying to @ any of y’all I’m just like. verbalizing (textualizing? sure. whatever!) my paranoia and struggles in Friendship TM rn so like please either don’t read this or don’t make it weird because it’s not you it’s me 

God god like i I just can’t find the fucking balance and I think it’s partly because I am constantly bouncing between trying to invest more (too much) into friendships or isolating, or not having the energy, or trying to do both, or all three, I need so badly to be liked but also why thr fuck do you all like me

I’m fake, I’ve got so much imposter syndrome I can’t fucking see straight. Some of my friends think I’m cool and kind of goth??? Think I don’t like people (oh shit), that I’m like, tough, but I’m a fucking goddamn powder puff who is constantly on the verge or crying or emptiness or undesired anger which i then feel guilty about and channel into anger at myself. I hate myself so much that it’s normal, that until something pushes it it can kind of just become background noise and isn’t that sad? Isn’t that sad. I act and say that I don’t, insist I’m cooler and better and sometimes think I do but it’s because I feel so goddamn bad about myself but I know that won’t make me more likeable, saying it won’t make things good, just makes things back and awkward so I have to like fumbling try and like myself or at least fake it.

I’m not cool. I’m fat and ugly and broke and can’t keep a job or do anything right or get my shit together even if i’m goddamn trying.

I try and forget my mother so that missing her will stop. I can’t miss her if I forget her. She won’t exist to forget. I won’t think about her, so I won’t have to miss her, even if every fucking cell in my body carries her, from her genetics and everything that entails (death, mostly, likely from colon cancer) to her finger prints on my brain neurons (my mental illnesses aren’t something to lay at her grave and blame her for but her finger prints and markers are in all of them, I am my mother in so many ways I hoped I wouldn’t be).

I try and forget my father so I won’t miss him either. He’s just a disappointment or a hurt when he’s around, just something else to feel bad about (I can’t make him happy, i’m too gay, too fat, too much like my mother, too much like the sister he’s always abused and treated wrong). He’s not worth the energy.

I try to just... put on a face and exist minimally around my family because they aren’t perfect but they try and do a lot and I love them and I will never be truly one of my aunt and uncles children, a sibling to my cousins, my uncle won’t just give me casual affectionate contact and i’m too hold and don’t have the history to crawl into my aunts bed and just cry with her about how awful and broken I feel and they love me so much even if I’m not quite these things so why isn’t it fucking enough?

my ex is an essay i don’t want to do because every time i fucking reach some further progress and closure i lose it and I hate it, I hate it, I hate how part of me still aches and misses her but do I miss her or just the idea of her, what she represented?

That someone could love me, that someone could get me?

But like. Ha, the more you know me, the less you know me, right?

I think it’s a lot like that.

Everyone leaves eventually.

Like my friends, fuck, like everyone is good and fine and I’m the goddamn problem ultimately?

Because my brain just cooks shit up like

Don’t respond to them.

? I’m tired so I will later but-

Don’t, all they do is x. They only talk to you about x. When have they talked to you about anything else, they don’t deserve you, they only want want you can do for them and don’t actually care about you, fuck them, fuck this, this always happens--

or well shit you can be more attentive and still just get same shit different angle,

You now y is just using you to ease their own loneliness and depression.

I am 99% that’s like most human interaction, we’re all supposed to try and help one another-

They don’t actually LIKE you, not really, they don’t know you and how garbage you really are. They wouldn’t like that Logan. They’ll go when you stop being useful, stop being enough, the first time you mess up, and you will, you try so hard, so goddamn hard but you will

I want someone to like the garbage parts of me but also I don’t, because, I can’t even like those parts, why the fuck should they, why, why, people will go if I show those parts or want me to change them and I want to change them too but also some shit doesn’t change and some shit is just me, maybe some of this isn’t just garabage or stuff to learn or unlearn, some part sof me just suck, though who even knows which ones, which parts are real, because i’m so fucking fake you can poke holes through me, at least half of my happiness is even fake but if I don’t at least try and fake it it won’t exist and people won’t want tp interact and i’ll be a drain and i can’t have that, I can’t stand owing people or being a burden even if that’s all I ever do, i don’t understand human interaction and friendships and i hate how i can’t disappear - a few weeks or months - and come back without it being a thing, but also i want people to worry, not to Worry but to give a shit but also WHY SHOULD THEY and I expend all this energy on friendships but sometimes I’m not sure why, if i even want them, but i also know i need friends and like friends and am a friendly person and just

i hate. this. Being so many different pieces and conflicting feelins and reactions and i just want to start over. I want to die and have another playthrough. I want to run away and cut ties with everyone and just... live a different life.

Guess I’m actively suicidal again for the first time in awhile. That’s sort of new.

I think I’m finally tired. I’m... going to post this and try and forget I did.

It will feel like too much of a backstep to just delete it, but I can’t edit this either.

if you read this: none of this is @ or about you, again, this is my bullshit brain and me struggling. You’re good friends, some of you are even wonderful friends, I do. Love you. As much as I can love anyone. Which is a lot sometimes, and other times it’s.

Not? I dunno. I’m broken, I don’t know what to tell you.

Also like don’t talk to me about it because I can’t handle that and will very seriously get mad. 

i’m going to sleep.