#i’m constantly pissed off in the presence of humans and this is logical

[spirkbitch]

i love how vulcans conveniently all decided to ignore the fact that annoyance is also an emotion

[fuzziemutt]

Do You Understand?

Chapter 3/9 - Link to Masterlist in reblog

Summary: Connor makes his move to get away from everyone. This is most certainly a great plan I assure you (/s)

Tw: Mainly unhealthy thinking again. Connor’s main coping mechanism: ignore it.

After a surprisingly decent enough handful of hours of standby, Connor woke up feeling relatively less empty and angry than before. He always woke up a good bit before Hank just to make sure he got up relatively on time and to walk Sumo. Thinking of Sumo made him realize he’ll miss the dog once he moved out this afternoon, but he quickly dismissed that thinking. He was doing this for the best. He got up and entered the bathroom to see if he could find one of his beanies in his personal clothes pile he kept in there to help hide his LED later. Walking past the mirror he took a glance and it really seemed his eyes and brows were stuck just forever looking pissed off. He’ll deal with that later… maybe. Moving back to his objective, he managed to find a grey beanie with black zig zags he swiped and went to try on.  

Connor didn’t mess with his appearance too much following the revolution. He switched his Cyberlife jacket, that he’s pretty sure Hank hid in the house (or burned), with a very similar dark grey blazer recently and a black knee length coat sometimes. He tended to keep wearing button ups (often white, sometimes black or even with a floral pattern) and even wore dark turtlenecks to spice things up with the usual tie, if needed, black jeans and Cyberlife shoes. He liked familiarity and he liked how he looked in what Cyberlife said he looked good in. 

The most drastic change was that he enjoyed changing his hair color quite often. Maybe it was a bit out of a desire to separate himself from Nines since they looked the exact same, height, appearance, build, everything except eyes (and material arguably). He kept getting annoyed by how often they kept getting confused for the other. It didn’t help that Nines ditched his own Cyberlife jacket minutes after deviating. You’d think with how.. Loud… Nine’s fashion tastes were, people would be able to differentiate them better yet it was a constant struggle so he turned to ‘fucking’ with his hair color.

He stared at himself for a few seconds before deciding that he was tired of the default brown again and switched it to the pure white color. He had more colors, most of which he got from messing with his own color coding or from androids who focused on making additional coding to allow more variety in android features, but today white felt fitting. He sort of wished he could change his eye color too, maybe he should ask Simon if anyone… He was getting side tracked again. Trying on the beanie and it seemed everything was good.

He still had plenty of time before Hank’s alarm would initially go off so he busied himself in finding a bag in the garage that let him pack his few possessions into. Really beyond the clothes, he only had a few trinkets like his coin, and a small plush manta ray he got from the aquarium once. He didn’t have a room so he didn’t really have the chance to collect anything. He also went ahead and changed his clothes into a dark blue turtleneck, usual jeans and the knee length coat since those would take up more space to pack. After packing, he hoisted the bag to his shoulder and called Sumo over for their usual walk. They walked to a nearby park where Connor stored his moving bag in the most effective hiding spot before walking back. If he suddenly walked much slower than usual on their way back, Sumo didn't comment about it.

Just as he was done taking care of Sumo and putting away the leash, he heard the tell tale sound of Hank’s alarm going off. He got a coffee mug down before heading towards the bedroom where angry grumbling could be heard. Knocking on the door with an ‘I’m up! I’m up, asshole’ in response satisfied him enough to return to the kitchen and grab himself a cup for a quick thirium top off. He could have packed it, but then he wouldn’t have any here in case of emergencies. He could just get some more from the DPD anyways or even New Jericho if he really needed it. 

He looked up from his cup as Hank shambled his way to the bathroom. Connor felt his lips give the little odd quirk that represented a smile according to Cyberlife but immediately lost it when it reminded him of yesterday. And he was doing so well keeping his mind off it. Oh well. 

After some time, Hank finally joined him in the kitchen, mostly dressed and mostly awake. Hank started wearing his hair in a ponytail lately given his refusal to cut his mop of hair, but needing to look more “professional” now that he wasn’t showing up to work hungover every day. 

“What color we going for today?” Hank asked, voice still gruff as he set about getting coffee and cereal. Connor tended to wear the beanie to surprise others on the color of the week especially if he was trying out a very notable color like the time he went neon pink. It had ulterior motives today, but Hank didn’t need to know that.

“Now now Hank. No peeking. You don’t get special privileges,” Connor teased, moving to wash his now empty cup. Connor knew his voice didn’t give insight to his internal turmoil, but it seemed Hank caught onto Connor’s new predicament with his “expressive” eyes. However, he didn’t say anything, only grunting in response and turning away. Connor wondered what the Lieutenant knew or what he picked up from him in those couple of moments. 

They only made some more small chatter and a quick Sumo petting before heading on out to the DPD. Connor felt a bit weird not telling Hank that he was moving out, but he didn’t want his friend to question his decisions or whatever he would worry he would do. He honestly wasn’t sure why he felt adamant in not telling him. It would honestly worry the old man more, if he just up and left, but something stopped him from saying anything. He felt like Hank also knew there was something he wasn’t saying, but he didn’t seem to push Connor to admit whatever thoughts were circling in this mess of a CPU he had for what humans would consider a brain. It didn’t matter much as before he knew it, they had arrived at work. 

Logically, Connor knew Nines would be here. He’s been working with the other android for a couple months now already. Usually he would speak to him before Hank actually felt like doing any work to pass the time. Therefore, he shouldn’t have been so shocked to see the RK900 sitting at his usual desk next to Gavin Reed. Yet here he was, lagging a couple seconds behind the Lieutenant just staring at Nines. Of course, nothing else showed on his face as per usual, but he didn’t doubt it was odd to see Connor suddenly switch to a slower walking pace as he seemed to glare daggers at his look alike. 

Nines immediately noticed his presence and smiled very awkwardly, unlike the usual friendly grin, while waving at him. Connor’s new found emote of “fuck you” seemed to make Nines very unsure in how to proceed given how much his eyes looked around as if trying to find a solution to the problem that is Connor’s existence. Before he could find something to do, Connor sped back up and beelined to his own desk. He quickly sat down and placed his hand on his terminal to effectively cut off any attempt to conversate. 

“Who pissed in your cheerios?” Hank commented from his side, scrolling through his phone. His head was being propped up by the hand of the elbow planted firmly on his desk, but his eyes stared watchfully at Connor.

“I can not eat, Lieutenant,” Connor helpfully reminded him. He was just trying to dodge any sort of questioning, but he couldn’t think of a proper work around while the anger that flared up earlier still clouded his circuits. 

“Just an expression. And you’re definitely more pissey than usual,” Hank said, his expression and voice seemingly bored and tired even if he still kept a close eye on Connor. Connor merely looked up at him and purposefully raised a single eyebrow to make the human elaborate. 

“First, Nines looks like a fucking kicked puppy right now and that’s not even mentioning how you skipped your morning talks with him,” a quick glance over and Connor could confirm Nines was looking everything like a “kicked puppy” as Hank said, “second, you haven’t even taken your beanie off and you usually do that first thing in because lets face it you’re a bit of an attention whore.” 

Connor blinked realizing he was right, he knew Hank was more teasing on that last part, but he couldn’t deny it. The guarded look slid back into place as Connor stared at Hank, waiting for him to say anything else. He wasn’t sure why, but he just had to make sure Hank wasn’t trying to trick him despite Connor revealing his different hair color multiple times before. This was silly he finally thought and just went ahead to tug the beanie off, quickly fixing his hair afterwards too.

Hank was also right that the officers who commented on his hair instantly filled him with that desire for praise he never could seem to muffle, left gaping when Amanda was effectively blocked from his systems. And of course, he preened a bit upon feeling a bit better refusing to acknowledge the knowing look in Hank’s eyes and forcing himself to focus on his work once more.  

-

Today wasn’t too busy of a day surprisingly. It was more reports that Connor could let himself absentmindedly work through as he was preoccupied by how he would decorate his apartment and what furniture he should get. They only had to leave once for a crime scene involving a dispute between a human and an android that led to a dead human and heavily injured android. There were always android and human murders him, Hank, Nines and a couple other officers constantly dealt with, but the rate seemed to be settling down to a more “normal” consistency. It angered Connor that it was still such a problem, but all he could do was help where he could on this end. The android consented to a look into their recorded memories to know what happened while they were whisked away for repairs. Pretty easy day all things considered. 

Either way, Connor didn’t even fully realize their shift was over, busy thinking of if he’d prefer blue or purple curtains, until Hank started getting up and stretching after turning off his computer. Connor found that after deviating he couldn’t quite keep his attention on what he wanted to anymore. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do it at all, he just found his mind tended to wander more easily, especially doing things that didn’t require much of his attention. He also abruptly remembered that he needed to go grab his moving bag and head to the apartment for the move in. So he set about shutting his work down as well. 

Nines perked up from his desk in hearing their shuffling; he even was about to start getting up from his desk it seemed. Connor quickly snatched his beanie and any other personal items he might need before practically booking it, without running, towards the entrance. He didn’t even glance behind him to see if Hank was following or if Nines was following either. Nines was the slightest bit faster than him so he could have caught up with only slight effort if he wanted so Connor was hoping he’d take a hint and leave him alone at least another day more. He didn’t stop his very enthusiastic speed walking until he was almost at Hanks’ car in which he remembered he couldn’t go home with Hank and sort of awkwardly leaned against the car to wait for Hank to catch up. Thankfully, it looked like Nines took the hint when all he saw was Hank almost speed walking towards him with a frown.

“Wanna explain why the fuck it seems you were running for the speed walking Olympics back there,” Hank immediately groaned out when he was close to the car. He was slightly out of breath.

“Nope,” was Connor’s reply. Simple and not sweet but sweet.

“Uh huh.. then do you want to talk about how it seemed this Olympic was being founded on avoiding Nines as much as inhumanly possible?” Hank asked next, crossing his arms and raising a judgmental bushy brow down on Connor. 

“I wasn’t avoiding him,” Connor’s eyes not looking at Hank and voice too defensive to be legit. Damn. It seems whatever happened yesterday in the taxi was still affecting him. How annoying.

“Yeah no. I’m not believing that for a second,” Hank seemed to be glaring at him harder. Connor didn’t feel pressured or stressed by it, but it was also annoying him that Hank wasn’t dropping this. 

“We had a fight yesterday, it’s no big deal,” Connor easily lied again looking Hank in the eye this time. Hank seemed to not be convinced, but Connor knew he didn’t know enough about whatever “fight” occurred to tell how much Connor was lying. 

Hank’s shoulder slumped a bit as it seemed he was giving up the chase for now. “Fine. That’s fair. Sometimes, friends fight, I won’t push you on it, but do talk to Nines about whatever the hell happened so he stops looking so mopey.” 

Connor felt a flicker of jealousy again at the reaffirmation on how clearly Nines emoted compared to him. But he didn’t say anything, only nodding even if he had no plans to talk to Nines (or really anyone) if he didn’t have to. Connor is going to use this ignore method for as long as it works damn it. 

“So uh.. You getting into the car?...” Hank awkwardly commented as he made his way to the driver’s side. Oh. That other thing needs to be dealt with now. Right. Connor will miss driving to work with Hank… that’s besides the point. Hank wouldn’t care if he rode with him or not anyways since he saw Connor as a machine still.

“Oh. I’m actually going to be heading to New Jericho to further discuss what we talked about yesterday. I’ll be taking a taxi don’t worry,” Connor attempted to order his face to give a reassuring smile but Hank’s subtle cringe affirmed that it was not giving its intended effects and he immediately dropped it. 

“You sure you don’t want me to just drop you off? It’s not that big of a deal,” suspicion lingered in Hank’s eyes as he stared at Connor from inside the car. Hm. Not good if Hank was already catching that something was off. He really did not give the old geezer enough credit.

“It’s fine. The discussion involved what we should be doing about androids who react very negatively towards humans still. I’m not sure if allowing you to accompany me this time would be a good idea especially as I’m not sure how much information about that discussion has been passed around since then,” Connor began to wonder if lying was going to start becoming his life at this point with how much he’s done it in the past day alone. 

“Hmm.. fair point, alrighty. Stay safe out there, kid,” Hank backed off but Connor could still see the suspicion in his eyes. This will appease the Lieutenant for now but just for now. Connor will figure something out for a more permanent solution later. He was relying on the others not communicating between themselves too much.

After saying his goodbyes, Connor walked towards another automated taxi and got in. He set the path to the park he hid his bag in and placed the beanie back on his head to make sure his LED was hidden. It didn’t take long to retrieve it from the dense bushes, glad that the park didn’t get many people at this hour from how suspicious that looked, and immediately reentered the taxi. He did chuckle a bit at how funny it would have been if he had gotten arrested then but shook it off. A few more minutes and he stood in front of his new “home”. It wasn’t the worst, a bit worse for wear, definitely hasn’t been cleaned since the 80s he’d take a guess. Most of the apartments appeared to be empty which was good. Connor didn’t want to befriend any neighbors. They’d just get fed up with him anyways like the others.

[returnn-of-the-mac]

Games surely need something to keep us on point constantly, but isn't it frustrating to see how enemies recklessly try to kill PC even when the killcount goes to thousands (which is a bit unrealistic itself, but that's another story)? Companions react to a group of raiders, mutants, whatnot charging at them but then noping out of view the moment they see Sole (better yet, if Sole comes to clear out their outpost or something and they just. leave. no fight. cause it's either that or death)

So for this one, I broke it into 3 parts: raiders running away, supermutants running away, and ferals running away. I felt like wild animals/synths would be iffy, and gunners would be similar to raiders. No intro! Please enjoy!😊

FO4 Companions React: Enemies Seeing Sole & Running Away

Raiders

Danse: [confused; lowering weapon] Well, I suppose that’s one way to do it.

Cait: [calling after Raiders] Ye! That’s right! Scram, ye ninnies!

Deacon: [calling after Raiders] Aw come on, don’t be chickens! [flapping arms] BUCK BUCK B’CAWWW!

Codsworth: Good riddance!

X6-88: Wise choice.

Nick: Talk about an intimidating presence.

MacCready: [calling after Raiders] Don’t mess with the best!

Strong: [sadly lowering sledge] Aw, Strong wanted to smash...

Preston: Yeah. Those thugs had better run.

Longfellow: Is it too soon to take celebratory shots?

Piper: Damn Blue! You didn’t even have to raise a finger! Color me impressed!

Hancock: [huffs jet] Ha, those street punks didn’t stand a chance.

Curie: Oh, I guess we’re not fighting zen?

Gage: Heh. Damn boss! Looks like you’re already gettin a rep ‘round these parts. Proud of ya.

Super Mutants

Danse: Damn. I was looking forward to smashing their skulls. Nevertheless, good job, soldier.

Cait: Super mutants are scared of ye too? Now I’m impressed

Deacon: You can scare off the mutants!? What kind of sorcery is this!?

Codsworth: [sighing in relief] Thank goodness. Those monsters give me chills.

X6-88: Interesting. I have never seen a case where a group mutants were intimidated by a single human being.

Nick: So even the super mutants are scared of you, huh? That’s nothing to scoff at.

MacCready: Good thing I’m on your team.

Strong: Brothers scared of human. Know they have no chance.

Preston: If even super mutants are scared of you, you must have quite the reputation around here. I’m honored that you’ve chosen to do good, General.

Longfellow: Have you ever considered being a bodyguard?

Piper: “Big Green Babies Run For the Hills.” How’s that for a headline?

Hancock: [scoffs] Where are they goin? Someone ring a dinner bell?

Curie: Even ze suicider retreated...zat is amazing, [Madame/Monsieur]!

Gage: Now THAT’S what I’m talkin about. You’re untouchable, boss!

Ferals

Danse: Crawl back into your graves! Disgusting carcasses.

Cait: That’s right, limp outta here before we snap ye in half!

Deacon: [Narrator Voice] In this episode of “The Zombie Whisperer,” ferals beat feet back to their hive!

Codsworth: Ah, excellent! I always like to avoid a mess when I can. Feral blood stains metal, you know!

X6-88: I suppose at least a small portion of their brain must be functional considering they made a rational decision.

Nick: Well, it appears that they have at least some sense left in those heads of theirs.

MacCready: It would’ve been ghoulish for them to try to fight us! Ha ha, get it? ...okay.

Strong: [calling after ferals] Come back! Strong no have lunch yet!

Preston: If ferals have enough logic to run from a fight they know they can’t win, do you think they have enough brainpower to think about their past life and loved ones? It makes me feel bad for them, in all honesty.

Longfellow: [takes a swing of whiskey] Much deserved after a hard fight, yeah?

Piper: Where do you think they go? A mausoleum? Back into their grave? An old building?

Hancock: Heh, they didn’t even try. Can’t even give em an A for effort.

Curie: Adieu!

Gage: Damn boss. At this rate, we could take over the entire Commonwealth without a fight. Everyone just pisses their pants when they see ya!

[agrinsosardonic]

Unused CSB Chapter

Our third year attending Camp White Wolf in the Catskills. I was a shrimp approaching thirteen and my bones always hurt from growing. Sephiroth hit his first growth spurt and towered over me like one of the mountains that surround that camp. And no sooner did my parents pull away from us- not to be seen for six weeks- Sephiroth abandoned me for the older boys he made friends with last year. Leaving me alone. I expected it. I knew he would do this. A common thread, but it didn’t change the crushing rejection that I felt. That I carried on my shoulders as I grabbed my bag and found my cabin. 

My time there remains a blur. I remember the smell of the still lake later and wood wet with Summer. Bugs sang songs in whispering trees in between attacking my skin. The hot sun, humidity, that muffles the sounds of camp. The disturbed water from rowing. The shouts of competition. The mess hall and the static of conversations I could never find myself to become a part of. I sat alone. Strangled by my thoughts. My lack of self-esteem even though my braces had just come off. 

Your teeth look big now. 

Sephiroth had said. I ran my tongue over them instinctively every-time I remembered that comment. 

I never attempted to make friends in that place. All the boys just seemed so much more put together. And handsome. And I cringed every time that thought floated into my head. I wasn’t supposed to think that like; pinched my eyes shut and tried to think about anything else. Video games, or comic books. Horror movies were a great relief, because it’s fucking real hard to get a boner thinking about a girl getting sawed in half. Everything is ten times more difficult at thirteen. Body always tense with pain. My dick constantly tried to give me away. My brain just then started hearing that voice that whispers in the shadows- all the solutions to my problems. 

By the third day, I wanted to call my mom and beg her to pick me up. The boys in my cabin, often secretly led by Seph, decided I was an easy target and tortured me every morning. Traps I would step into like a fly to a web. And my best friend, the one my parents asked to watch me, nowhere to be found. Alone. The kind of alone that I can actually feel. Like I’m being crushed between two walls closing in- suffocating. No way out. 

Sat by the lake and thought about hurting myself for the first time. At the time, the thought seemed logical. Injure myself in a way that would get me sent home. Burn myself on a fire, or cut myself with a blade. In reflection, this was the first time I considered self-harm as an outlet. One I would end up returning to time and time again. But, then, twelve years and eleven months, pissed look etched upon my face while I thought about all the ways I could destroy myself, someone sat next to me with a loud hmph announcing his presence. 

Did the lake do something to piss you off?

I no longer can remember the sound of his voice.

But I had turned my head and saw him sitting next to me, knees up to his chest and arms listlessly draped over them. I recognized him from the previous years. His deep black hair wild like the forest at midnight. Blue eyes that glimmered like the moon. He wore the white camp shirt they gave us and black swim trunks. I knew his name. Zack Fair. But I had no idea why he decided to sit next to me.

Well?

I stuttered through my words, still not used to the absence of metal in my mouth. Uh, w-what?

You look like you’re about to fight the lake.

I brought my eyes back to the green and blue rocky body of water. Zack was two years older, just shy of his fifteenth birthday which would have him working at the camp as a Junior counselor, instead of a participant. We didn’t hang with the same group- well. I didn’t have a group. He did. And all I could think about was those friends lurking in the shadows waiting for my guard to drop so they could play a cruel prank on me.

You know, this lake sucks. He continued, it attacked me my first year here and I’m not over it!

He showed me his foot, by practically shoving it in my face so I could see the faded pink scar on the sole. Attacked by a rock! First week too. Never forgave it. So, if you’re trying to fight the lake, I got your back.

I cracked a smile. A small one but showed my teeth. And I remember the way he tilted his head. Like a puppy. You’re kinda cute when you smile. You should more often. You’ll have all the ladies chasing after you!

My stomach flipped.

Actually, that never happened before and I thought I was going to throw up and started getting nervous. But his smile, bright and comforting, kept me from fleeing to the coldness of my cabin. 

You’re Cloud, right? And I remember being shocked he knew my name. He revealed he was captain of the opposing Volleyball team in that afternoon’s game. Which saw my pathetic attempts at being useful in a sport rewarded with a ball to the face, the stomach, and somehow my legs much to the resentment of my teammates; who slung every vile slur they had learned in their young lives. 

I felt a wave of hot embarrassment. Tried to bury my face in my knees but he pressed on. Complimenting my attitude despite the failure. I shot pointed glares at my teammates and continued to play despite their displeasure with me. That takes balls, man he smiled. 

We sat together at the lake while the sun descended over the water casting a fiery glow against the water. He informed me he came from New Jersey, mocked me gently when I revealed I’m from Staten Island. We argued over which state has the better pizza. What life was like back home. He was entering Sophomore year of high school-and I always forget that fact when I reflect on our relationship...if I could even call it that. 

Zack became my friend first; guiding me during those dark weeks of camp. He invited me to sit at his table in the mess hall with his two other buddies. He taught me how to throw a football in a perfect spiral. Took me rowing on the lake during free time. Picked me first in every team sport, including capture the flag which saw Sephiroth on the opposing team. 

And we won. 

And I do sometimes remember the sensation when Zack threw his strong arms around me, cheering my success. How it felt like a million needles pricking my skin and my heart thundered to a halt. And I was so caught up in the fleeting moment of pure euphoria, I barely acknowledged the strange look Sephiroth shot threw his silver bangs as he cocked his head to the side and watched Zack and I be ushered off to revel in our victory. I recall it at times when he gives me that same look. The same look he gave when he asked about Reno the first time. And I get sick just thinking about how far back he planned everything. 

The night of the victory, after dinner with our team and sharing scary stories over the campfire, Zack walked me back to my cabin late. And pulled me into a hug I didn’t understand at the time. And another feeling pooled in the pit of my stomach when he ran his big hands down my back, stopping short of my buttocks before bringing them back up. Nerves. He felt so much bigger than me. Maybe at the time I felt safe in that embrace. But it’s tainted now but what happened after. And while he whispered Good Job, shorty in my ear like a supportive friend, I think I knew there was something else he wanted to say. Something he communicated with an extra squeeze before he released me into the damp darkness of my cabin. 

I laid in bed that night thinking only of Zack. 

Recalling the last few weeks of our budding friendship. Calculated every time he found an excuse to touch me, whether it be a playful push or messing up my hair or kicking me underneath the table. His defense of me to the few friends he had, who hated a tiny kid running around behind them like Peter Pan’s unwanted shadow. Counted on my fingers how many times he gave me this look, the same look Tifa would give me under the covers. 

And I realized between the obvious fucking tent in my pants and the rush of butterflies in my stomach- I was in pre-pubscent love with Zack. 

My friend. 

The older boy who took pity on me. 

And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. 

I laugh about it now, when I’m throwing back shots of vodka to numb myself from the trauma of it all. But then, I couldn’t help the smile that stretched across my face that remained there until one of my cabin mates discovered my issue and called me out in front of everyone. 

I forgot how easy rumors start. 

But I hadn’t considered that fact

And maybe history just repeats itself.

Zack became my first in almost everything..

My first real kiss under the moonlight after we snuck into the lake after hours. Jumped in with our clothes on- and despite the heat that hung in the air, the water felt like frost. But he was warm. When he ran his hands against my cheek. When our lips met. And I thought this was the most beautiful feeling I could ever experience. The height of human emotion.

And one night, after sneaking out successfully for almost a week, we went to where they stored the canoes- and I never found out how he accessed the shed. He whispered promises in my ear. Told me I was beautiful. 

I played a dangerous game; followed his lead. Accepted acts I offered in return without understanding the consequences. Curse of childhood is short sightedness. And I mistook his acceptance of me as loyalty. And I got myself wrapped up in him that I forgot the person I was before he engulfed me in his gaze. I wanted to be Zack as much as I wanted Zack to love me; like the love they show in movies. Artificial passion. 

Playing these memories back, only three and a half years later, it feels like a different life. And as soon as I feel those rough reminders, my brain shuts down. I’ve drank him away so many times, I find him to be more of a phantom than a tangible being of meat and bones. Who took my innocence away.

And then like a switch flipped-

I approached him at our usual spot in the mess hall. He ignored me. 

When I tried making strain conversation, he offered one word answers. 

The judgmental eyes of his friends drilled into me. And I left with my head low; wondering what I did wrong. Thinking he got tired of me just like Sephiroth did. 

Sephiroth, I found him in the cabin reading one of the comics I brought with me. Lounging in his bunk. Eyes darted to me. And all he said I heard a rumor. 

Apparently someone discovered our actions in the canoe. And that someone threatened Zack he would tell the whole camp. But that someone felt so inclined to tell Sephiroth what he saw. My stomach dropped out of my body. The hazel-eyed boy just stared at me as he vacantly recalled the information he received from his source. And followed with how disgusted he was to be associated with me. 

And I denied.

Denied

Denied. With increasing alarm. And with every crack of my voice, his lips curled. Twitched into a smile. 

And I denied until I started believing in my own words. 

And I blamed Zack-

But I don’t think I’m entirely wrong in that. Which adds another stone to my back that crushes me. One I should have started cracking when I went to therapy and maybe I wouldn’t be such a confused, chaotic, disaster of a person. Any self-confidence I had captured crumbled and turned to dust that year.

I tried to bury all those memories instead of actually addressing them- and now here I am. Presented with a similar situation. An enemy, under the guise of a friend, had weaponized a personal part of myself for his own selfish pleasure. And I stand alone. Bailed on by a person who claimed to care-

And maybe it’s time to change the narrative. 

[sometimesrosy]

I’m honestly asking this because I’m genuinely curious but—seriously why are you such a bitch to people who are just asking questions and who want to know more? You treat them like them not subscribing to your exact brand of analysis makes them bad people. I don’t get it.

People can have any sort of analysis they want. watsonian, doylist, psychological, cultural, historical, feminist, new criticism, reader response. I support fanfiction and fanworks. I support engaging with the content to understand your own life, experiences, identity and traumas. I ASK that they stick to the text, back up their theories with evidence FROM THE TEXT, consider the parts of canon that conflict with or debunk their theories and point out where they are engaging in logical fallacies like ad hominem attacks or confirmation bias.

This is called critical thinking. It’s pretty close to the scientific method. I’m a teacher, even though I left the schools, and it’s just who I am. In fact, I don’t subscribe to only one form of analysis. One day I’ll talk about trauma, one day I’ll talk about representations of misogyny and toxic mascuilinity, one day I’ll talk about the doylist needs of how to tell a story, the next I’ll fucking squee about bellarke and the epicness of it all.

I will ALSO analyze fandom itself, using critical thinking, social psychology, history, looking for patterns, cause and effect etcetera, and I will be honest when I see fandom doing unhealthy, toxic, irrational, unbalanced, cruel or abusive things I will speak out. No one likes their flaws being pointed out. But that doesn’t mean there are no flaws. I ALSO examine my own flaws and biases and consider the alternate points of view on a regular basis. I examine my own presence in fandom, how I can adjust or change to make the experience better for myself and my followers. But you can’t make other people be self reflective if they don’t want to look in the mirror.

You’re also acting like it’s my job to answer your question nicely and give everything i’ve got just because you ask me a question even if you don’t put the same thought into your ask. A lot of people have thought that I was like some sort of fandom mom or their teacher hired to give them gold stars. It’s one of the reasons I changed my name from rosymamacita, because I was tired of being treated like people’s moms who had to love them no matter how awful they were being. Shoot. My own daughter (a bellarke shipper) gets sarcasm and sass and scolded and punished. When I was a teacher I marked up people’s essays and scolded and told them no and got sarcastic and failed their asses for not using critical thinking. I had rubrics explaining the expectations. And if they didn’t meet them they failed. I mean. Who in the world is expected to only be nice, forever, and never disagree, say no, get impatient, get snippy, be sarcastic, or what ever. Only me is it? Why? 

As an ex english and humanities teacher, some things specifically annoy me. Like erasing canon. Your high school english teachers should be ashamed sometimes. It’s like y’all think shipping or stanning suspends the rules of logic.

When people erase canon it means they can’t understand the show. this isn’t actually analysis, it’s personal response. and personal response is valid, but it’s not understanding, it’s not analysis, it’s not interpretation. No matter how much they love their faves or their OTP, if they ignore the canon to stan their faves, they’ve lost the story. They are no longer analyzing anything that I’m analyzing aka canon. We’re literally not talking about the same thing.

That’s like using unicorns as a scientific basis to study narwhals. 

Unicorns are awesome, but it’s SO not any sort of understanding of narwhals. It’s made up. And not narwhals. Just because they share a singular horn and being a mammal, you can’t say the narwhal is the unicorn. You can analyze the wonder of the unicorn, but it still ain’t the narwhal, and saying the narwhal is the unicorn and failing in it’s job as a unicorn is... well does that make sense?

You ask why I’m a bitch sometimes? Did you happen to read my blog header?

I’m sometimes rosy

These are my rules. I ship bellarke, if you put bellarke hate or bellarke doubt or ‘i’m so worried bellarke is never going to happen’s into my inbox. You’re breaking my rules. If you are negative and disempowering you’re breaking my rules. Shipwars, fanwars character hate and writer hate are all against my rules.

When i was nice and sweet and entertained all that stuff, you know what happened? Constant harassment. Constant anxiety. Constant begging me to feed fandom neurosis in the guise of asking for assurance. All that has gotten a lot better since I developed stronger boundaries. And you know who HATES it when I have boundaries and calls me a bitch for setting them firmly and not backing down, no matter what tone I use?  People who want to cross my boundaries and suck me dry. So kiss off with your tone policing.

Maybe I’m a bitch because someone pissed me off, or they’re ignoring the fifty thousand times I told them to stick to the text, or I’m exhausted and anxious about something in my actual life, since, you know, i’m a real person who is not perfect.

Maybe I’m not a bitch, I’m just sarcastic, and you’re so stuffed up with your own ego that anything but stroking your dick reads as me being a bitch. Oh. Was it when I said the flame was a party favor not canon? That’s the bitchiest I was this morning, and that was fucking funny. Did I hurt your feelings because you think a party favor means lxa is coming back? lol. Maybe that’s what this ask is about. If you had sent me another anon saying I hurt your feelings, I would apologize and explain without the sarcasm. I’ve done that before. But you didn’t. You called me a bitch.

Maybe I’m a bitch because I’m a bitch. It’s my blog. Deal with it. I am allowed to be a bitch. I did not ask you to follow me. I am absolutely a bitch now. Thanks. It’s your fault.

Maybe I’m a bitch to anons sometimes because of you, you coward on anon. Because I get shit like this constantly, and I never know who any of you on anon are, whether you’re one of my stalkers or someone who used to call me The Devil, or part of that kru that SOMEONE is still sending to attack me. I don’t know yet I keep my anons open.

Me? I own up to everything I say, even when I’m wrong, even when I’m called a bitch. I don’t hide behind anon like you so no one can ever judge your behavior or words. 

“genuinely curious” my ass. Because if you were genuinely curious you would  read my blog and see my DETAILED fucking explanations for why I do what I do and think what I think and stand behind what I stand behind.  Do you notice that I wrote a fucking ESSAY explaining why I do what I do, using evidence and examples and types of literary analysis and this is NOT the first time I’ve done this.

Or if you were honestly asking, you would have honestly sent me a private message (which are open and always have been and I respond) asking me what my reasons are without calling me names.

You just wanted to send a nasty anon. 

And I think that makes YOU the bitch. Don’t pull that guilt trip, tone policing, condescending shit with me. Pretending to be honestly asking because you want to understand. 

Sealioning

A subtle form of trolling involving "bad-faith" questions. You disingenuously frame your conversation as a sincere request to be enlightened, placing the burden of educating you entirely on the other party. If your bait is successful, the other party may engage, painstakingly laying out their logic and evidence in the false hope of helping someone learn. In fact you are attempting to harass or waste the time of the other party, and have no intention of truly entertaining their point of view. Instead, you react to each piece of information by misinterpreting it or requesting further clarification, ad nauseum. The name "sea-lioning" comes from a Wondermark comic strip. [x]

[dicecast]

Rethinking of Star Wars: The Character of Darth Vader

In addition to being the most Iconic character in the whole series, Vader is kind of the emotional core of the movie, despite his being the villain and the antagonist.  When I talk about the original Star Wars being really weird, this is what I mean, who is the emotional core of these films?  You might say its Luke, but the movie is kinda weirdly distant from Luke, we don’t really delve that deeply into his head, the film seems a lot more excited to talk about Han Solo and Leia.  So are they the emotional core?  Well no, because in the third movie they just kinda stop doing stuff after awhile.  Is it the droids?  We are with them throughout the earliest bits of the movie, and their perspective seems to dominate about 50% of a New Hope, but not so much the other movies.   These movies don’t really have an emotional core the way that the first Matrix movie does, or Pirates of the Caribbean do, its more of a spectacle.  Because while these stories are a heroes journey, they are a really distant one (more on that later.

(There are emotional moments but not emotional themes) 

           The exception to this is Vader, who is a constant presence in all three movies, and in fact it is his decision which decides the final conflict.  Rewatch his scenes in the triology, and emotionally the camera is with Vader (except being his first confrontation with Luke), when he chokes the guy mocking his religion, that guy is presented as annoying and you get the anger in the scene.  When he is frustrated and obsessive in the second movie, the movie seems to display it, like the scene where the falcon gets away or when he is in his little life pod. The emotional high point of the third movie is Vader’s core.  Now I’m not saying this is particularly well done, or even deliberately experimental, only that it’s kinda weird considering how this movie is basically the king of main stream.

(pictured, emotions) 

           Vader is also the greatest failings of the prequal series, because Anakin from the original doesn’t resemble Vader at all.   And I don’t mean “oh Anakin is whiney he isn’t dignified” I mean the emotional logic of Vader’s actions doesn’t synth with the prequals.  

(this is more movement that Vader uses than like the entire original trilogy)

        See it’s a fallacy to assume that the only way you can devolve a character is by showing their back story (YOU HEAR THAT MARVEL).  In that blessed glorious time in the golden days before the prequals existed (aka my elementary school), you could look at Vader and try to imagine what made him into this monster.  Because Vader is remarkably well characterized, most of that credit going to his actors, and it is mostly done just through little things, namely his movements. Vader is heavy, he is slow, he is ponderous, all of his movements just feel like this evil glacier in human form is stalking around a space ship*. And this slowness isn’t combined with carefulness or even elegance, Vader feels heavy and brutish, walking straight into reality and just expecting it to get out of his fucking way.  All of this movement direction are tied to two core emotions.  Anger, and exhaustion.

(guess I will move my arm now)

    So I already talked about Vader’s relationship to anger earlier, but summing myself up. There are many different approaches to anger, and Vader’s is not explosive like in the prequels, Vad’ers anger is like a dull constantly burning ember, he is just kinda quitely pissed off all the time, basically moving via his constant hate.  But that doesn’t make him a passionately anger fellow, its burnout, he just occasionally snaps when his overwhelming frustration with everyone around him just kinda makes him at somebody not following the rules.  Its not explosive rage, nor a cold rage, it’s a constant low boiling frustration that has so consumed Vader that he only keeps going out of spite.   I could never picture Vader explosively slaughtering a whole village of people or even dramatically screaming at his mentor, I can see him just making a frustrated scoff and killing everybody in the area out of contempt because they wasted his time.

(Not ever bothering with villain banter, fuck off) 

   The other emotion that defines Vader is exhaustion, especially in the first movie, because is so fucking zoned out in that first movie.   Literally every single interaction he has in that movie except for his duel with Obi One is curt, brusque and dismissive, Leia is like “I defy you” and Vader is like “Yeah what ever, I don’t care move on”.  He stands in Tarkin’s meeting room like an extra prop, he feels so superfluous and barely interacts or move until somebody insults his religion, and even then he is like “oh well I guess I’ll hurt you”.  He is zonked out, and if you think about it, it makes sense.  Vader’s reason for joining the Empire and embracing the Dark Side aren’t clear in the original, but presumably he came out of some sense of believing in something, even if that thing wasn’t good.  Well after decades of atrocities and murdering most of his former friends, Vader has won, the empire is in control and he reigns supreme…and he still isn’t happy.   He is this massive badass and is just...doing his job because its what he does.  

 Based on how eager he is to turn Luke, my personal headcanon was that Vader wanted to remake the Jedi order in his new fascist empire, but the process of making the empire basically wiped it out, and now he is alone in an empire where his own subordinates say his religion is sad and outdated to his fucking face. Whatever goal Vader went into this for, it clearly hasn’t worked out for him, he is basically on rage field auto pilot.  

(phoning it in) 

Compare that to how he behaves in the second movie, Vader has so much fucking energy, he is focused on the task at hand, he is talking to people, it really does feel that for the first time in a decade he has found something worthy living for.  Which brings up something else, Vader always felt old to me, in fact he is referred to as old a few times, but he also just felt like an old exhausted man.  According to the prequals he is basically in his early 40s, which just feels wrong, Vader doesn’t feel like he is having a midlife crisis, he feels like somebody age is catching up to them and they are just sort of realizing how out of place they are.  I always pictured Vader in his early to mid-50s, I mean Obi One was 63 when he played Obi One, though you could believe him being a little older, I thought Vader was like ten years younger, and they had more of a peer relationship, that is what it feels like in their duel, two old men who are the last relic of a conflict which ended over a decade ago.  Vader’s fall to evil never felt to me like a dramatic sudden break, rather it felt like a slow steady loss of humanity over the course of decades, like John McCain.

(I wrote this before he died, I have very mixed feelings)

           And like a man who earnestly held principles to be valuable while betraying all of them simultaneously, Vader never espouses a morality or a philosopher, but he feels like somebody who’s sense of self is founded upon some sense of duty and purpose, even though both have long ago been lost.  He earnestly is deeply religious concerning the force, and in the third movie seems largely ok with the Emperor letting him be killed by Luke in order to cause his son to fall to the dark side (First time I wrote that I wrote Dark Souls and suddenly Star Wars became a lot cooler).  He feels like somebody who does everything he does due to duty, even though its meaning is long past, so the Dark Souls reference I accidentally made wasn’t actually all that off point.  

(an armored man following rules long past their relevance) 

           Actually seriously now, do you know which character Vader reminds me of more than anybody else. Leo McGarry from The West Wing, I mean imagine if Leo McGarry’s master wasn’t Barlet but somebody vile and destructive who encouraged his own anger and frustration, and imagine if he didn’t have a family or friends who could help him alienate his own pain, and he just comes this manifestation of a system that he enacts without understanding it.  

           It’s also interesting to me because Vader is such a Kinetic person, I mean the is basically second in command of the Empire and the main enforcer, why is he flying a Tie fighter around personally?  Can’t he delegate this shit, doesn’t he have like administration or something to deal with? For somebody who is trapped in a robot suit which doesn’t move very much, he is clearly somebody who likes to move around, when I was really little I never really got that he was a cyborg just in how human his movements seemed to be.  I think Darth Vader isn’t somebody who thinks very critically or questions his decisions once his made them, so when all of his life chocies have made him miserable and hollow, he just kinda distracts himself by going to people’s houses and kicking their doors down, cause you know, its active.  

(like, why is he doing this, delegate man, your not commander Shepard) 

           All this combined actually comes together quite nicely at the ending or rather, it is one of the only two character arcs that are complete in Star Wars, Vader changes in each movie.  This is not fantastic story telling by any means, but Vader is the most iconic character for a reason, and his emotional arc is kinda more important than Luke for reasons I will get into later (seriously Luke’s story line is really weird). In the first movie, he is totally burned out, just kinda doing the Empire’s will out of inertia, and is so exhausted he basically on auto-pilot.  The only three scenes where he seems like he is paying attention is when somebody insults his religion, Obi One shows up, and Luke gives him a hard time in the Death Star Trench.  Rest of the time he just phoning it in. 

(weeeeee)

 In the second movie, Vader seems alive, active, mobile, like he actually has something to care about, and it is also freakily obsessive.  I know there is this meme of Vader murdering people at the drop of a hat, but I think that is less Vader and more this particular point in Vader’s life, he doesn’t kill anybody in the first movie, in fact a guy basically feels so confident that he again..insults Vader’s religion to his face. Sure he gets chocked afterwards, but can you imagine anybody doing that in the second movie?  Sometime between New Hope and Empire, Vader seems to have figured out who Luke is and now he has purpose, a goal, turn Luke and remade the Jedi order, since Palpetine seems to not to give a shit, so Vader is heading to that, regardless of how many ships he throws away officers he murders.  And at the climax of Empire he just…kinda retreats back into his depression, and mopes away.  .  

(jump to 10:35, I couldn’t get the whole sequence) 

   And while Jedi doesn’t focus that much on its main story (more on that later), Vader here seems to be totally conflicted even before Luke shows up. He is surely and unfocused, and basically is letting the Emperor take the wheels, except of course the Emperor doesn’t give a shit.  But it isn’t burnout, it’s the realization tht Vader might have to actually you know…consider an alternative possibility.  Before the Prequals corrupt our imagination of the past, the impression I had of Vader was a man who set a goal for himself and basically followed it for decades, even though in the process he kinda destroyed the thing he was trying to protect.  He is basically a hyper lawful person who isn’t creative enough to consider alternative possibilities, and only now with his family involved, does Vader actually thinking larger thoughts rather than immediate goals.  Going back to my thesis that the Force=Emotional Health, then Vader is finally realizing that his way of coping with the world and his emotions isn’t working at all, and he needs to actually choose what he wants.  

(wait...I have autonomy?) 

And even so, it takes him so fucking long to make up his mind at the end, because Vader is a really clannish type of person, he values his “Group” over everybody else, and picking between his master and his son is a hard choice.  And then he dies, movie over.  Honestly, Jedi kinda fails, but it has a pretty good arc for Vader, it’s the story about a fascist who questions “why did I become this?” You know that scene from pan’s Labyrinth where Captain Vidal slices his own reflections throat?  That is basically Vader character arc in a single scene

[preservationandruin]

Oathbringer Liveblog, Part Three: Chapters 63-67

Onward!!! Sorry for more delays, but we’re trucking into finals season here, and I’m constantly busy. 

Shallan’s visit to the palace cuts deep, I speculate on Kaladin and cheesy old high school romcom tropes, Jasnah writes the most Extra essay of all time, a lunch is stolen, Dalinar has a PTSD flashback, and I found Hoid

Still with Shallan, here, in Kholinar. Well, Veil, technically, who’s enjoying being in a city, even one as fucked up as Kholinar. The worst areas of Kholinar are near the city walls, where everything is cramped and overcrowded, but the entire city is going to shit. Near the palace, though, shit’s emptier. Even the soldiers, around that area, seem off. 

People in spren costumes are guarding the way to the Oathgate. That’s not good. And there’s fire coming from the platform, and...uh...screams. 

If there are ritual human sacrifices happening I’m going to be so pissed off. Anyway, turns out Veil has more of a thing for Kaladin than Shallan does, although BOTH have SOMEHOW mistaken Kaladin for a brooding bad boy. 

Kaladin’s not a brooding bad boy oh my god. He’s like...a grumpy nerd mom friend. It can be mistaken for brooding edginess from the outside, but. It is not. The way Shallan/Veil describes him you could see him as the typical leather-jacket-wearing bad boy smoking a cigarette in an old high school romcom movie but. Listen. The leather jacket is a hand-me-down and it hides a kitten he took in because he found it in a box in the rain and he’s not smoking, but he sure is delivering a lecture about lung health to whoever is. He glares bc he has 0 sleep and insists on taking on the problems of everyone around him. 

Anyway, the palace. Shallan gets in with the message from Elhokar, although the guards don’t break stride or even say anything. Shallan’s perception of the place is weird as well--the stairs seem to go on forever and then suddenly she’s at the top. 

“I was supposed to deliver it in person,” Veil though she itched to be out of this place. To flee madly, if she were being honest. She had to stay. Whatever she learned here would be of-- One of the soldiers ran her through.

YO WHAT THE FUCK

So uh, that happened. Shallan is trying to think of how to get out of there, and hits on what Jasnah did--faking death, and taking in just enough Stormlight to keep her from bleeding out. She wants to see what they’ll do to a dead body, I think. 

The guard carrying her passed a floor-to ceiling mirror rimmed in a fancy bronze frame, In it, she glimpsed the guard with Lyn thrown over his shoulder. And beyond that, deep within the mirror, something turned--the normal image fading--and looked toward Shallan with a sudden and surprised motion. It looked like a shadow of a person, only with white spots for eyes. 

I reiterate: YO WHAT THE FUCK

She’s dumped in an area where there is just. a line of corpses, some of them rotting, dressed in nice clothing. They’re in what was once the wine cellar. She engages in some hardcore repression to avoid thinking about the fact that she was just impaled and dumped in a room full of rotting corpses, and heads out of there. 

She gets out, and sends Pattern to go get Kaladin. Kaladin, although worried, manages to play it down and make a shitty pun, which helps with Shallan’s repression. 

You know, I would say repressing this isn’t healthy, and it’s not, but at the moment it’s sort of a crisis situation. There isn’t time for a freakout now; repressing it for now and coming back to it later could be the best option. Of course, being Shallan, she’s not going to want to come back to it. 

Over to Dalinar. He’s getting the Honorblade he found, musing to Stormfather that some people thought he was Jezrien or Kalak. Stormfather also notes that Ishar is at least as mad as the others, “more, perhaps.” That’s worrying. 

Only one, [Stormfather] said with a rumble. I...have seen Ishar. He curses me at night, even as he names himself a god. He seeks death. His own. Perhaps that of every man.  It clicked. “Stormfather!”  Yes? “Oh. Uh, that was a curse...Nevermind.” 

This is so funny. Somehow I didn’t think of it happening before it did, despite Stormy’s name being a common swear on Roshar. Anyway, turns out that the god-priest of Tukar who says he’s a god and is waging war and is generally a Thing that’s Been Happening, is Ishar. 

Great. 

Yours is the power Ishar once held. Before he was Herald of Luck, they called him Binder of Gods. He was the founder of the Oathpact. No Radiant is capable of more than you. Yours is the power of Connection, of joining men and worlds, minds and souls. Your Surges are the greatest of all, thought they will be impotent if you seek to wield them for mere battle. 

So that’s kickass. 

“Are there others like me out there?” he finally asked.  Not right now, and there can ever be only three. One for each of us. “Three?” Dalinar said. “Three spren who make Bondsmiths. You...and Cultivation are two?”  The Stormfather actually laughed. You would have a difficult time making her your spren. I should like to see you try it.  “Then who?”  My siblings need not concern you.

BUT STORMY I WANT TO KNOW

Anyway, Dalinar gives the Honorblade to Bridge Four to facilitate their training as Windrunners. Rock ends up taking it, apparently only trusting himself with something that powerful, which is fair. 

Meanwhile, Navani has learned how to give Dalinar’s fabrial wristwatch to have alarms. I love the evolving tale of the fabrial wristwatch and Dalinar attempting to get used to it. 

Anyway, Fen and Dalinar are waiting for Gawx’s Oathgate to open. Dalinar’s going through the gate alone, trying a suggestion from Fen. Navani packs him a lunch and...oh no. I know where that’s going and it’s not to Dalinar. 

Meanwhile, some random soldiers, trying to figure out how to get stormlight, are discussing whether or not you can swallow spheres. God dammit, guys, don’t be idiots. Also, shocking nobody, Sadeas’ men have become even worse under Amaram’s control.

Dalinar notes that it seems completely normal to see Jasnah with a sword, which, fair. Anyway, he’s in Azir on his own. We’ll see how this goes. Again, Dalinar has a moment of almost being able to understand another language. Stormfather comments that if he touched one of them, he could use “Spritual Adhesion” to make the connection. It works--he can speak Azish now. 

And what he brought to Azir wasn’t a sword. It was an essay, written by Queen Fen. And another treatise from Navani, offering state secrets. And the final essay, which was called “Verdict” and written by Jasnah. it’s just one page. 

And if you ever thought Jasnah didn’t inherit the Kholin Extra Gene: 

Though this was the shortest of the essays, he heard them whispering and marvelling over it.  “Look, it incorporates all seven of Aqqu’s Logical Forms!”  “That’s an allusion to the Grand Orientation. And...storms...she quotes Prime Kasimarlix in three successive stages, each escalating the same quotes to a different level of Superior Understanding?”  One woman held her hand to her mouth. “It’s written entirely in a single rhythmic meter!”  “Great Yaezir,” Noura said. “You’re right.” “The allusions...”  “Such wordplay...” “The momentum and rhetoric...” 

JESUS CHRIST, JASNAH. ALL OF IT IN A SINGLE RHYTHMIC METER. WHAT THE FUCK. 

We get another moment of Dalinar getting bothered by the Rift, Rathalas, again--something else happened there. Also, it turns out that while Alethi parshmen had acted Alethi, immediately gathering for war, the Azish parshmen had lodged a complaint with the government. 

Dalinar: contests of kingdoms are supposed to be masculine i should be able to handle this Stormfather: LMAO

AAAAND HIS LUNCH IS GONE. Lift, that was some fast work. 

Lift cocked her head. “Huh. You smell like her.”  “Her?”  “The crazy spren who lives in the forest.”  “You’ve met the Nightwatcher?”  “Yeah...you?”  He nodded. 

She does offer him one of the bowls of dried fruit, which is a surprising gesture from Lift. In any case, they sit there in silence until the viziers come back; Dalinar notes that Noura, the main vizier, does seem fond of Lift, although Lift doesn’t see it that way. 

And Gawx and the council have agreed to meet with Dalinar!  And it was Navani’s essay that convinced them, giving Dalinar a moment to brag a little about his amazing wife. Noura mentions that she thought he would be an animal, a monster--

And it triggers something. A flashback, the worst yet--all of the memories coming back. 

He remembered what had happened to Evi. It had started in a cold fortress, in highlands once claimed by Jah Keved. It had ended at the Rift. 

Oh shit y’all, we’re getting what happened. 

We’re back eleven years ago. Adolin is looking out a window with Dalinar, and Dalinar is showing him a tactical defense against Shardbearers--I gotta say, tween Adolin is adorable. He’s 12. 

Though the last few fights had been disappointing, having his son with him had been an absolute delight. Adolin hadn’t gone into battle, of course, but he’d joined them at tactics meetings. Dalinar had first assumed the generals would be annoyed at the presence of a child, but it was hard to find little Adolin annoying. He was so earnest, so interested. 

This is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen. I wonder what Renarin is doing--he’s probably back with Evi, given that he’d be around, what seven to nine at this point? Still pretty small. 

Dalinar in the present: I’m so glad that I’m exploring ways to ally with people without shows of force. I’m tired of my entire life being fighting and blood and people getting hurt

Dalinar in the past: 

It was gratifying to see how much one could accomplish in both politics and trade by liberally murdering the other fellow’s soldiers. 

Yikes. 

Anyway, Evi comes in and starts fussing over Adolin, who was supposed to be wearing a jacket but wasn’t. He has to go to his geography lessons, but he doesn’t want to leave Dalinar, which again, is adorable. Also he still hugs his mom, even though that’s “un-Alethi.” 

Honestly, being a proper Alethi sounds utterly joyless. Dudes can’t eat sweet food and you can’t hug your parents? That sounds like bullshit. 

Apparently, Renarin stays mostly in Kholinar, and Evi still thinks Dalinar doesn’t see him enough--which, given that Dal literally didn’t answer her letters or talk to her until she came to the battlefield, I’ll believe. Ren probably never sees his dad. 

I know I’ve said this before, but Dalinar did not deserve his wonderful wife and perfect children. He’s connecting with Adolin, but only because Adolin isn’t like him, and he’s not even making an effort with Renarin, and that’s fucking awful parenting. 

Gavilar has sent a letter, saying that they need to talk,  but first, he needs to send Dalinar to the Rift; Dalinar will meet up with Sadeas’ forces, and also someone--nobody knows who--is supporting Tanalan, the person rising against Gavilar’s forces. 

Great. Dalinar, Sadeas, and the Rift. Clearly nothing here will go wrong. 

Dalinar says, casually,  that he doesn’t think they’ll settle back in Kholinar at any point--and then is startled when he looks up to see Evi crying. 

The sight stunned him, and he dropped his pencil. She tried to hold it back, turning toward the fire and wrapping her arms around herself, but the sniffles sounded as distinct and disturbing as breaking bones. 

I love how the similes that Dalinar uses, like the rockbuds like skulls and here, the sniffles like bones breaking, give so much insight into how violent his personality is. It’s wonderful writing.  Anyway, Dalinar didn’t understand how painful living seven years on the road, seven years of constant transition and upheaval and war, were to Evi. Evi even thought of going to the Nightwatcher to ask for intelligence, so she didn’t feel so outclassed by the other women in the area--and when Dalinar says that’s blasphemy, she points out that the only time people seem to care about Vorinism is to point out that it’s better than her beliefs or to swear on the names of the Heralds. 

She’s got a lot of points. And then Dalinar suggests that they go, vacation somewhere, maybe bring Adolin...and Evi has to point out that Dalinar has two sons. 

...you know, I’ve been the kid who gets left out when planning family trips. And it fucking sucks to be the one who always gets forgotten because the other kid is more important. My tolerance of Dalinar’s bullshit (when he’s at this age--current Dalinar is much more appreciative of Renarin, and thank god) is dropping by the second. 

DALINAR! DOES! NOT! DESERVE! HIS! WONDERFUL! WIFE! AND! AMAZING! CHILDREN!

Anyway,  he’s planning to go to the rift, and I’m planning to physically manifest in the book to fistfight him--or, more practically, to infiltrate Kholinar and befriend little Renarin, because it really sounds like he needs more care and affection than he’s getting. 

Anyway, after that, we get to go back to Shallan, who’s still repressing the fact that she was brutally murdered, because she’s Shallan and represses everything. 

I want to make it clear--I love Shallan. I just keep pointing this out because I see it, and it’s dangerous to repress all your emotions. 

A day after being murdered in a brutal fashion, Shallan found that she was feeling much better. The sense of oppression had left her, and even the her horror seemed distant. 

This! is! repression!

Anyway, Elhokar is drawing out a representation of the city, a full map with the palace and Oathgate platform. Shallan even notes that it’s pretty good. He’s still refusing to accept that Aesudan might be part of the problem, but...listen. We all know Elhokar is the world’s worst judge of people. He might just...remain in denial on this point. Certainly everyone else is just like “...sure, Elhokar, we’ll go with that” and exchanging glances behind his back. 

We get that his son’s name is Gavinor, though. That’s adorable. He’s gotta be around six, though, right? Elhokar was at war for around six years, and nobody mentioned trips back to Kholinar. 

Brandon please do not hurt the six-year-old. I realize this is a very low bar but given these books, if we learn that the fires on the Oathgate are ritual sacrifices and whoops, Gavinor was burned to death, i would not be surprised, but I would feel sick to my stomach for the next decade. 

Elhokar has a plan--infiltrate, try to figure out what’s going on with the Oathgate. Adolin and he can try to reconnect with prominent lighteyes who are still doing things and are alive in the city; Kaladin can see who this Azure person is on the wall. 

Adolin points out that they still have to address the fact that Aesudan was accused of being hugely wasteful; Elhokar mentions that Jasnah said that he shouldn’t marry her, but that Elhokar did because he felt like he needed someone strong--oh, I see what happened. It looks like Aesudan was another in the line of people who saw Elhokar, knew that he was weak, and her approach was to gain power by offering herself as a tool to make him look stronger. 

Or she’s a good person, Elhokar’s right, and we’re all barking up the wrong tree. I don’t think this is true, but I want to keep an open mind. 

Shallan is going to investigate the Cult of Moments, and Kaladin also points out--they need to figure out where on earth the food is coming from in the city. 

Veil is on the move in the city! She’s going to try to get a feel for the attitude of Kholinar, how the people think, why this Cult of Moments has such sway. We also get that the bodies that Veil found in the palace were only a few of the over thirty who were supposed to have met with Aesudan, and that these were some of the less powerful ones. 

God, Kholinar is choking to death on its own mysteries. 

Shallan finds a grain station, but it’s not being run well and apparently,  they purposely withhold grain from the poor and the young--some of those who will need it most. Yikes. The servants of lighteyes get food, and the poor darkeyes don’t. Veil is pissed--she seems to be gaining Kaladin’s indignation at lighteyes via osmosis. 

That’s a really weird thing. Shallan is herself a lighteyes--and one who is habitually fairly blind to her own privilege as one. But Veil is a darkeyes, albeit one with access to all of Shallan’s resources. As Veil becomes more definite, I wonder if Shallan will start to empathize more and understand her own position, or will she keep the experiences of her various selves separate? 

HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WIT IS IN THE CITY, SPOUTING SOME BULLSHIT ABOUT THE MOONS, OF COURSE. He’s dressed weirdly--he’s gotten his hands on one of Sadeas’s livery coats? and a scarf? 

Anyway, he’s busking, as he tends to. he’s telling a story about Tsa, a queen of Natanatan, and Mishim, the middle moon and the cleverest, who tries to escape her duty. Wit’s doing that thing where he’s using powders and smoke to make magical scenes in something that is and is not like Lightweaving; something startled him for a moment, but he moved back into the story. Mishim gets Queen Tsa to think that one of her towers--her works of art--were blemished from the top. Tsa then offered to trade places with Mishim, so she could see from the top. 

And Wit recognizes Shallan, despite her wearing Veil’s face. Of course he does. I’m not even surprised. 

Anyway, apparently Tsa got along better with the other two moons than Mishim did, and apparently Tsa had a child with Mishim--a child with blue skin, and that’s why the people of Natanatan have bluish skin. Interesting--I wonder if some part of this is relevant or true? We know that it’s possible that the Natanatan people are half-Aimian and that’s how the skin happened. 

Anyway, Wit doesn’t answer why he told that story now, but instead says that he misses his flute, and then says that Shallan looks like she could use the opportunity to...buy him food. 

Well, our favorite freeloading magic hobo has returned. 

[its-just-like-the-movies]

Date Night!: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice

Back when the swell fella who would become my boyfriend and I were in one of those strange middle grounds where we were on our way to becoming a couple and very, very aware of it, our first sort-of-date was when Tommy invited me to go see Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice on its opening night. I, of course, accepted, somewhat reluctantly. I can’t remember if I was expecting the film to be good or bad, though I’m sure before then some of its abysmal reviews had been public. I was also nervous about the whole “oh my god this is probably sort of a date isn’t it”, especially since at the time I didn’t know him all that well. This would be the first of many dates at Ze Cinemah, although after this we’d be perfectly, happily aware that they were all dates. Even better, I think, is our immediate discussions after the film is over, and how eager we are to talk about it and discuss what we’ve just seen. We’ve seen plenty of films together, and maybe I’ll talk about other ones we’ve seen someday, but I can already feel a pit in my stomach drop at having to talk about this stinking pile of steamingness. All said, Batman v Superman is one of those truly atrocious films, like The Judge or The Danish Girl, that works like so much manure and makes me start sparking and frothing with how horrible they were. It’s an energizer more than it is a depressive, though it for sure is both, and there is one thing about our date in particular that haunts me every day. It’s not even something the film did, but something I did, or almost did, but could have done more of. Something that perhaps could have changed the screening for the whole theater, or as Anthony Hopkins keeps saying in the trailers for the new Transformers movies “change the tide of human history itself”. I wonder about it every day and every night, as I sleep and as I wake, and especially as a type this story to you, The Void, and now I must share the tale of my screening of Batman vs Superman with you to get it of my chest, to free myself, and to see where the tides of human history itself shall take me. Also: I’m going to be very mean to this film, and am very not interested in hearing about how wrong I am from random eggs as I and many others I know have been on Twitter. I hate it, don’t care if you love it, for fuck’s sake leave me alone.

It didn’t take the two of us long to find a pair of seats, though we immediately moved to the row behind us because our view was partially blocked by the structure of the stairwell. We warned the couple who ended up taking those seats about it, though I can’t remember if they moved too. And the film starts. Zack Snyder has the gall to open the film by reminding us that Batman’s parents died in front of him during a robbery gone wrong. He also seemingly cannot hire Jeffrey Dean Morgan to do much beyond die in the openings of his films, though I remember he had more to do in Watchmen. The visual of Martha’s(!!!) pearl necklace snapping in the gun’s safety as the trigger is pulled is sort of fascinating but also pretty grotesque, all things considered. Batffleck is saying something, though I cannot remember what. We see the funeral, little Bruce running into the woods in sadness during the procession, only to fall into a well or pit or some such hole in the ground. The score, I’m sure, was going crazy.

And then, it happens. Baby Bruce is levitated out the pit by seemingly hundreds of bats flying around him like a tornado, floating him towards the light. This is how we are abruptly told that this is a dream sequence, and reader, I laughed. Not the cackle it deserved, but I couldn’t stop it from escaping completely. I chuckled, giggled, whatever; I’m pretty sure Tommy hit me on the arm to calm me down and get me stop but I’m not quite sure. The giggle is what counts, though, and it haunts me. What if I had just burst out laughing at a moment that the whole theater was palpably flummoxed by? Batffleck wakes up but I am still reeling from the horseshit prologue we have been subjected to. It is not the most nonsensical thing we are going to see in this movie. It is not even the least plot-relevant indulgence that Zack Snyder will take us through, nor the least inexplicable jump of energy or plot logic that we’ll be forced to sit through. Academy Award winner Holly Hunter will be forced to stare dramatically, in close-up, to a jar of piss before she and dozens of other people are killed in an assassination plot meant to frame Superman, whose own close up registers at the subtle, bottomless despair and discomfort of sitting on the can and realizing you’re not quite done shitting, except Henry Cavill also registers as remarkably bored. Jeremy Irons reads every line as Alfred Pennyworth with such bitchy, subtly nasty inflections that I actually found the character an unwelcome presence, though if anyone found this a life raft of something enjoyable happening on screen, particularly Irons, then by all means savor him. Amy Adams will throw a Kryptonite spear into an underwater pile of rubble and, with no indication that Lois Lane has been told why the heroes need it to vanquish the rock monster that is Doomsday, dives into the water and nearly drowns recovering it. Batman slaughters - in fact, he often guns down - dozens of criminals on screen, brands sex offenders, had one montage that’s just him training to become even beefier and another, completely bizarre dream sequence that may also be a warning from another dimension’s Flash where Superman is technically Hitler, and Barry Allen screams about Lois Lane before Batffleck wakes up at his desk, which is meant to convey that this May Have Been A Dream Or Is It Ooooooh. This scene has no narrative impact and is never referenced again, though it is not as patently stupid as is the sight of Superman, wielding that Kryptonite spear, deciding to kamikaze himself by killing Doomsday with the knowledge that he cannot survive any assault the giant may bring on him while he is in such close proximity to said spear, ignoring the two superheroes who have been helping him fight Doomsday this whole time.

There are plenty of other absurd, delicious, amazingly shitty one-offs. Michael Shannon is credited for appearing in the film for the three seconds General Zod’s corpse floats in the remains of his spaceship. The President of the United States decides to nuke Superman in the middle of his fight with Doomsday after the latter threw the Man of Steel into the Earth’s orbit (a safe enough distance to nuke him, I suppose). Diane Lane is duck taped and tied to a chair, threatened to be burned alive as Jesse Eisenberg’s Lex Luthor throws photos of her with “Witch” written on her face, and all of this is tied into some mythological asinine crap that is Luthor’s motivation for wanting to kill Superman and create Doomsday in the first place. Eisenberg spends the whole film as some combination of Edward Nygma and a meth addict’s impersonation of Heath Ledger’s Joker, and it is by far the biggest trainwreck in the whole film. I think I also resisted laughing once “MARTHA!!???!?!?!?!!!” happened but in truth, I blocked that out of my memory. The sheer joy of seeing Wonder Woman, and hearing the score come alive as she roars into battle, literally, at some points, is all that is keeping me from giving this film an F grade, though perhaps I just can’t rate an Amy Adams film that low. Gal Gadot is at least enjoying herself, which is in even bigger contrast to the stark constipation that Cavill and Ben Affleck are constantly exuding. The film has ideas about literal hero worship, about what Superman could mean or stand for, and wants to have real conversations about his necessity, but it jerry-rigs them through Christic imagery and working hard to undermine the criticisms of genuine challengers and the critics themselves. Bruce’s hatred and suspicion of the Man of Steel seems completely arbitrary, banking on the fear of Superman turning on humanity in spite of his big coming-out party as a global entity being the eradication of his home species for the sake of mankind. Horrific as the collateral damage was, it’s not in line with anything Superman does in the film, is shown as doing, or is framed as doing by Synder himself, who doesn’t pretend for a moment that there’s actually anything wrong with Superman. He’s content to make the man a misunderstood martyr, a golden boy whose death inspires the formation of The Justice League and the warming up of Batman’s glacial, inherently distrusting heart. Superman is basically fridged on behalf of Bruce Wayne, and it’s clumsily executed as Smallville himself is. 

There are so many vile, absurd, abstracted, unnecessary, horrific moments in this film and yet, I still wonder how much that night would’ve changed had I actually burst out laughing at the beginning of the film. What would’ve changed for the whole theater if some jackass sitting hear the back-left had cackled as a small child is literally lifted out of a scene the filmgoing public had seen at least seventy-eight million times by now, one that kicks off an indefensibly ghastly excuse for a Hollywood spectacle lit worse than even the lowest budge episode of The X-Files and colored like it’s scared that bright shades will deflate how Dour and Serious this Cinematic Experience is? Recounting many of the set pieces I’ve already mentioned back to my sister afterwards I couldn’t help cackling at some of them, though I did so far more angrily with Tommy immediately after, baffled not just that I had paid for this film but that it even existed, that anybody who made this gigantic dumpster fire thought that it was in any way a competently crafted, psychologically or emotionally coherent picture. Could we, as a crowd, as a community, have laughed at this horseshit for what it was? I love that in horror movies the audience always make the pact with itself that fine, this is a lot, you deserve a good scream. This picture was even more upsetting, and perhaps if I’d laughed, having taken the piss out of it so goddamn early, we wouldn’t have had to just sit there and take it. We could’ve fought back and laughed at it (with it?), openly railed against it, or just fucking not be quiet throughout this whole ordeal. I will always be haunted by this inaction on my part, and to this day it shames me.

He did try to defend parts of it, but not much, and for sure stole my comments about how Eisenberg wasn’t even playing Lex Luthor when we starting talking about the film to our RA Josh and fellow hallmate Dylan in the hall that same night. Josh peddled the theory that Marvel people had paid off critics to hate on DC’s live-action features, which I challenged by asking why Marvel would even need to do that. It’s not even that DC’s films are so drastically worse than any of Marvel’s features, but Marvel at least has a brand formula at work. Their knock is never that their bad, just predictable and uninspired, though they’ve been getting a little better at going against both those counts lately, with the Guardians films at least. And I will say this for Batman v Superman: It’s awfulness has staked a far larger claim on my mental landscape than The Avengers or Deadpool or most Marvel fare ever has. I liked Man of Steel fine, was particularly impressed by the early minimalism in portraying Superman’s powers, especially his x-ray vision, and was even playing devil’s advocate with family members I saw it with. I’m semi-interested to return to it, but not passionately so. You for sure couldn’t call this film formulaic, perhaps unworthy of all the bombast it’s applying to itself but worthy of notice the way a burning car is, or how Jeff Goldblum and Laura Dern are seemingly in awe of that giant pile of shit in Jurassic Park. As dubious as literally every aspect of this film is, the sheer magnitude of its awfulness is compelling in such a way that I became anticipatory of the film’s eventual Rifftrax takedown as I was watching it. I don’t know how soon into it this idea started, but once Amy Adams dived in to get that spear I could already hear the befuddled joke about Lois Lane: Plot Psychic that Kevin Murphy would probably hurl at the screen, and it made this mess a little bit better.

All things being honest, I am absolutely going to see Justice League with my boyfriend, though I wonder how much more excited he is than I am. I loathed Suicide Squad but thought it was so poorly edited I stopped caring and would up having something of an okay time, appreciating Margot Robbie trying to find a character in Harley Quinn and relishing that Viola Davis actively seemed to want to be there a little as I did. Of course I’ve seen Wonder Woman, a step above most recent DC efforts in that it’s compelling, competently told and emotionally resonant, though it really shows Gadot isn’t much of an actress. There’s a lot about it I questioned in the moment but I am so, so appreciative of Wonder Woman as a film that exists, and one I mostly enjoyed seeing even as I actively wished for a better version of the film while I was watching it. Maybe I should just not see these given how much I end up railing against these projects, but I love watching movies with my guy (who I also love) and they are great conversation fodder. Plus, we watch lots of better movies together! Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice was the first of many, many delightful date night movies, and we weren’t even dating yet! My guy was easily the best part of the film, though it’d be a discredit to it say that it wasn’t a memorable experience, future boyfriend or no. I truly hope I never see it again, at least not sober, but I got a great story out of it, and a great man too, which is more than a lot of movies have ever given me. And at the end of the day, it’s that the biggest reward a person could get? It’s not like this makes Batman v Superman anything more than a gray, ugly, violent, gross, despicable, unpleasant, misogynistic, time-wasting, utterly horrendous, steaming pile of shit. But hey, it counts for something.

[tumblunni]

How do I write an autistic villain without demonizing autism by accident? ;-;

I’m not really sure why you’re messaging this to me. I’m really sorry but I’m not an expert on like.. political stuff about autism stereotyping, just because I’m autistic. And it depends on which country you live in, I know that america has a far more visible sort of cultural presence for stereotypes, due to the whole Autism $peaks controversies. I dont live in america and I’m not super smart or anything, so yeah this is a disclaimer that this is just my opinion and you should probably research answers given by other people too. And maybe ask people about the specific circumstances of what you’re writing, like the context of the setting of the story and what the villain is like, etc. I’d be happy to chat to you about that if you need help! (but again, im no expert, lol)

ANYWAY!

My opinion on the subject is that having an autistic villain is perfectly fine, as long as you’re not villainizing autism. Like...* Don’t make the autism the reason theyre a villain.* Don’t make people scared of them because of the autism, rather than because they’re a villain.* Don’t treat their autistic traits as scary or inherantly villainous.* Don’t make anyone insult them for their autism and act like its justified because they’re evil.

And similarly its bad form to do any of that stuff in regard to any sort of minority really. An example that always bugged me is how Excellus from Fire Emblem Awakening is scary and evil because he’s a murderous monster, yet everyone in the game constantly insults him for the fact he acts ambiguously gay/transgender/effeminate. Like, there’s way too many jokes about people finding him ‘disgusting’ because of some random thing he can’t change, like a sexuality, race or mental illness which plenty of non-evil people have too! It also lessens his impact as a villain because the characters barely even address the actual villainous things he does, and he doesnt seem to have any motive at all. They just ride on the whole ‘the audience will find him gross’ thing as a crutch and forgot to bother writing a good villain.

Oh, and your concerns are indeed valid, yo! Sometimes it is important to think about the context you created a character in, even if you didnt intentionally create any negative messages within your writing.It’s just that the case where a character will be seen as villainizing [minority trait] for being a villain... that’s kind of only in a very specific circumstance? its just that this specific circumstance is very very common in mass media nowadays.It’s ‘The Smurfette Principle’.If you only have one character of a minority in your cast, its easy for an uninformed audience to pick up messages that you’re saying ALL members of that minority are the same as them.If you only have one autistic character and he’s the villain, then you might accidentally be villainizing him. In a world where autistic characters being villainized for their autism is already very common, people could just assume you made them autistic for the same reason all those other writers did- because they think it’s ‘scary’. It feeds the stereotype even if you didn’t conciously intend it that way.

So a very very easy way to fix this problem is just to add multiple characters of a minority into your story, filling various roles from villain to hero to helpful npc. or anything you can think of!

Another good quick fix is to have your villain be autistic, but portray their autistic traits as sympathetic/relateable/a humanizing aspect of them. Not just portraying it as something neutral that doesnt make them scary, but going out of your way to add some scenes showing how they’re just like anybody else. Or even making it one of their redeeming traits!It doesn’t have to outright be something like ‘yo being autistic makes me inherantly good and childlike’, which is a stereotype all to itself, lol. But you could show them experiencing predjudice from another character, in a way that makes the audience sympathise. Honestly having a character attack them for being autistic instead of being a villain would be a good way to do this, as long as that character is actually shown as being wrong for what they’re doing. Or simply showing the villain having common autistic traits, facing common problems, doing common everyday things... that can be enough to portray autism positively. Have them shown doing this stuff outside of the situation of them being villainous. It makes them feel more human and less of an abstract symbol of evil. And because these small glimpses of normality are lightening the mood, they become seen as a positive aspect!

KIND OF AN OFFTOPIC TANGEANT SORRYJust my personal experience as an autistic kid experiencing this story... I personally headcanoned Cyrus from pokemon as autistic. Not because he’s ‘scary and emotionless’, but because his backstory was relateable to me as an autistic person. It’s said that his parents were emotionally abusive, and that he had nobody to turn to because everyone thought he was ‘a creepy kid’. And he was able to find solace by obsessing over repairing machines in his bedroom, and apparantly has trouble understanding people because they can’t be fixed as easily. Stuff like maths and science are kind of a stereotypical Special Interest for autistic children to be given in fiction, I guess because it makes you seem more intelligent when you obsess about that instead of video games, norse mythology, or collecting tiny novelty spoons from around the world XD (Yeah i was a weird kid.)So yeah sorry I went a little offtopic there, but the point is that it might have been by accident instead of intention but that villain has a lot of traits that read as autistic. And when i first played Diamond and Pearl I actually disliked him a lot because of that, I felt like they were villainizing someone who seemed relateable and potentially redeemable. I mean, he seemed pretty depressed too! Give that man some therapy! But when I played Platinum and got to learn his backstory I started to feel like the writers actually did want us to feel sympathetic to him, because of how all those ‘scary’ traits were presented so sympathetically. Like.. the backstory isn’t that he became evil because he was an autistic kid who did creepy things like obsess about machinery and suck at social contact. No, he became a villain because he was abused by his parents, him being ‘weird’ is just intended to make it clear here that he didnt deserve it. It makes him pitiable, it makes him relateable, it makes you feel so much more frustrated that nobody listened to him and saved him from that hell, and nobody even seems to remember him fondly, just because he was ‘weird’. And hell, even his ‘emotion is evil’ philosophy seems very relateable to me as an autistic child. It seems like he learned to seclude himself to avoid angering his parents. That’s the impression I got from his final scene in Platinum, where he finally acts angry at you for beating him, then gets angry at himself for expressing emotion and forces himself to go back to how he usually talks. I get a bit pissed off whenever I see fans of the series claim he actually IS emotionless, lol! This scene made it clear to me that this is just a guy who WISHES he was emotionless, somehow seeing it as the only way to be free of pain. Someone who struggles to deal with his own emotions, or feels like he’s disgusting when he expresses them. And this is VERY relateable specifically to an autistic kid who suffered from an abusive parent! “Quiet Hands” is a kind of common concept that autistic kids might experience, that’s the name for a popular ‘parenting technique’ that really fucks people up. Focusing on making your kid never ‘act autistic’, rather than actually helping them understand things. ‘Quiet Hands’ is specifically about slapping or smacking your kid whenever they show stimming behaviour. (Hand flapping being a common way this symptom can manifest.) We’re taught never to be too loud, and to always always have to restrain ourselves to avoid embarassing our parents. We have to try and learn how to act like ‘normal people’ and become scared of harmless parts of our own brain just because theyre ‘embarassing’, leading to even worse emotional problems as an adult. i mean seriously how is it logical to tell a kid who has troubles with social interaction that they shouldnt even practise it?? Plus its a huge mess to teach these kids to do way more emotional labour than neurotypical kids are expected to do, and then treat them like they’re below average intelligence for not being able to do twice as much as everyone else...

ANYWAY! That’s a thinG! Sorry I went rambling off there about how a particular fictional character touched my heart, lol!I just kinda wish he could be canonically autistic, or if I had similar canonically autistic characters to relate to, instead. So i think having more autistic villains can’t be bad, we’re so badly in need of more autistic characters in general! And villains have a unique perspective of being able to hit our emotions the hardest. I think its easier to cry over someone who has a sad backstory of how they became evil, compared to anything else!So yeah what I was trying to say before I went offtopic is that if the backstory is ‘became evil because autism’, then people will complain. But if the backstory is ‘became evil because someone mistreated them because autism’ then that’s a good way to make people sympathise with autism. Aaaaand I’m bad at explaining this, because autism XD Well, i mean, my personal symptoms and lack of diagnosis til I was an adult means that I’m still working on learning how to communicate correctly, I don’t mean every autistic person writes terrible tl;dr advice posts that degrade into pokemon XDOh man i feel embarassed now, you asked me such a polite question and I didnt know how to answer it very well...I just hope maybe I inspired you to go out and do more research, rather than putting you off with my nonsense!

[elle-stevens]

It’s been a weird couple of days.

I don’t know if I’m just over tired, but I’ve been feeling super emotional and close to tears at any given moment.

I got teary-eyed while watching season 3 of ‘Anne with an E’. But that might just be par for the course because that show is so fucking sweet and heart-warming.

I got all weepy listening to ‘Drew Barrymore’ by SZA last night before going to bed.

I don’t know, that song just hit close to home and got me thinking about X all over again.

My emotions keep going up and down constantly, it’s making me crazy.

I had one moment of calm earlier today though.

I went outside after lunch at school and walked around the track while listening to some music.

It was a surprisingly warm day and the sun was warming my cheeks. I closed my eyes a few times while walking and kept moving forward.

It was the first time in months that I felt relatively happy and comfortable in my own skin.

It felt really freeing.

I wish I could’ve stayed outside longer and just let it all soak in. But I had to go back upstairs to my desk and prepare for my classes.

My students exasperated me yet again with not taking their final assessments seriously at all.

But it’s whatever.

I’ll get the last laugh when some of those gremlins get a stern talking to from their parents when they see their final grades...

I might be a little too sadistic as a teacher.

Definitely time for a change in career paths a year from now.

I made two more party favors for my Christmas dinner next weekend. I’m so utterly useless at making DIY things, but I want to try to do something thoughtful for my friends.

Maybe the upcoming holidays are just getting me down.

It isn’t the first Christmas I’ve spent away from my family. But it’s my first Christmas by myself since X and I broke up.

Not to say that our last Christmas a year ago was that great.

X pawned off her iPad and phone yet again to settle some family debt, so we couldn’t even talk to each other properly during the holidays. Maybe she felt like she had no choice. But it’s just yet another thing she did that basically told me that her stuff and issues were more important than our relationship or my feelings.

God, why do I even still care about any of it?

It’s like when my students piss me off at school. I shouldn’t waste energy getting angry about shitty things or shitty people. I should dust them off my shoulders and move on.

Easier said than done most days though.

I’m gonna try and take some new passport sized photos tomorrow for the new health check I have to do next year for my work visa. Then I want to go to the restaurant where I’ll host my Christmas dinner next week to make a reservation.

I’m getting tired thinking about it all. But hopefully I can get it all done somehow.

I drank two glasses of some super dry wine that C gave me two nights ago. But I mixed some coconut Sprite (yip, that’s a thing in China - along with seaweed flavored Cheetos) into it and it tasted loads better.

Now I’m in bed, hoping I can get a decent night’s sleep.

I’m brooding too much about things, hence why I’ve been drinking so much lately. I need to find a way to shut off my rampant thoughts and that twinging in my chest that I get whenever I think of X sporadically.

She’s still in my system; I wish she would just get out.

I’m thinking too much again. I should do some light reading to take my mind off of C and my other stresses of late.

When I think of X, it’s like I can feel her right beside me.

Not talking or engaging with me. She’s just...there.

An ethereal presence in my life that won’t stop haunting me at unexpected moments. She comes to me when I’m at my most vulnerable: when I’m sleepy or horny, or even both at the same time.

It’s embarrassing to admit any of this. It makes me feel weak, like I’m just a slave to my emotions and desires.

I never could think coherently where X is concerned. I guess that’s part of the problem: trying to be logical and mature in the wake of a devastating and ridiculous situation that I landed myself in.

It’s getting better slowly for me. But even now, I just feel close to tears thinking about the purposeless nature of it all, feeling how vexing it is that X doesn’t even care about how much she hurt me.

I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway.

Alright, time for bed.

It’s ok if the tears come. It doesn’t make me weak for admitting that I’m human.

I played at a game of love and I lost.

Maybe I’ll roll the dice again one day.

Or maybe...I’ll finally stop playing at love and really just actually love someone with my whole heart.