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rawliverandgoronspice · 9 months

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Actually, sorry, I still don't see why TOTK is imperialistic. The imperialistic one does seem to be Ganon in his greed to conquer. I'm not saying I doubt your argumentsz just... Could you help me understand that?

Hey, yes! No problem at all. If that's okay with you, I'll compile my arguments in a series of links where I reply to previous asks.

Again, I want to reiterate that I don't think what we see in-game is secretely an imperialistic story about Rauru being a bad guy. We can speculate all we want, but there is no evidence in-world for Ganondorf to be anything other than a horrible baddie. My point is not that Ganondorf is secretely misunderstood in TotK, but that I believe Nintendo should have constructed its storytelling in a way that avoided falling into very loaded narrative patterns with real-life imperialistic echoes, and I am criticizing that they didn't try to deliver a version of Hyrule that gracefully accepted its own history, its influence over the world and its inherent moral grayness, instead of nervously scrubbing itself of substance out of fear of its own legacy.

This is the big one, that addresses the game's framing and why I think TotK's version of Hyrule parallels imperialist narrative movements.

This one talks about my problem with Rauru's character writing and what doesn't land for me.

This one is about why I don't think Nintendo is cackling about that good imperialist story they did, that it was probably accidental but still worth mentioning.

And this one, which I assume is the previous ask you sent me, adresses why I think saying that the zonais (and Sonia) are also PoC-coded kind of misses the point in my opinion.

Hope this clarifies my argument! I feel like, as the conversation matures in the fandom, this specific position (not talking for anyone else but me here) is getting kind of warped into something that it's not, or being conflated with the way people are creatively invested in the characters, which, while I certainly won't deny one obviously feeds off the other as far as I'm concerned*, are two separate things.

Again, it's completely fine to disagree! Or to agree and not be put off (everyone stop feeling guilty over the rare joy we manage to catch mid-flight --we can critique media without demanding people to Feel Bad as a result of the conclusions): it's a really fun game and I did play over a hundred hours! But I think the conversation is at least worth considering in a way that isn't caricatured as its weaker arguements.

*(to be very transparent so my own position is crystal clear, and it helps people making up their own mind: Ganondorf touches me as a character because of the way he inherently tries to fight against the limitations Hyrule/The Goddesses/the fiction itself try to force upon him --to devastating and unproductive results-- so the more his own canon tries to flatten him and the more poignant his character becomes to me. Won't deny that! It's this exact realization that made me spiral into hyperfocus to begin with --I am deeply touched by themes of tragic ambition and the impossibility of meaningful rebellion while STILL willingly burning everything down for the sake of refusing your place in the universe, even when the only thing accomplished by the end was the unflinching expression of your agency as well as General Suffering. So of course he would just catch me by the throat like that, that bastard. That being said, I don't think TotK Ganondorf (or any Ganondorf tbh) is a poor little meow meow, especially not in this game's canon where he is *obviously* nothing more than a threat to be stumped and doesn't ever meaningfully oppose you ideologically, which is kind of my problem. Even OoT Ganondorf, simplistic as he may be, questions Hyrule's inherent stability, inevitability and glory in many, many ways. Here's another, final post about why I liked the gerudos better in OoT despite All of The Problems, that partially addresses this exact point!)

#asks #thoughts #totk #totk critical #totk spoilers #ganondorf #rauru #when will my brain return from the imprisoning war....#thanks for the ask!#it actually allowed me to rassemble my points in a more digestible way so it's pretty neat #I feel like I forgot a couple of posts so maybe I'll add stuff back later #again while I think I'm right because I mean... I wouldn't invest that much typewriting in the whole thing otherwise #I'm completely fine with counterpoints and cordial disagreements #(as long as the counterpoints are not like huge mischaracterizations or understand that... I'm talking about the narrative framing)#(not the reality of Hyrule itself)#(I don't care about Hyrule itself it's not real!!!)#((I mean I care deeply but you understand me))

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dudefrommywesterns · 5 months

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Title: A Boy Named Bill

Ship: Mike x Bill Baker (hi. don't perceive me. actually do. but also don't. do you understand?)

Words: 3.2k (I'm so sorry to anyone who reads this.)

Description: Mike meets Bill, who they'd only heard gossip about.

Bill Baker was a name that Mike heard quite a lot from fellow students at Ridgeville over the past few months. Freshman. Adored football player. Number 32. Being a junior, and being an English major, Mike had never met the man who’d garnered so much praise. They heard he was really good at football. Mike never cared for sports, especially not school sports. Bill Baker had a uh, a friend, Junior Jackson. Horrific football player. Overbearing father. Mike didn’t know much, but as they understood it, that’s how Bill Baker got into Ridgeville. Mike got a scholarship themselves. He was beautiful. That, Mike could make no judgment on. If the chittering of all the freshman girls was to be believed, Bill Baker was material for a national monument. Ah. Well, Mike didn’t care. Last they heard by the by, he had a girlfriend. Terry! That was it, Terry. She had a side hustle, a clothes selling business. Everyone knew Terry, and Terry knew everyone’s clothes size. Mike heard, too, that earlier that semester Bill got hammered before a big game and was expelled. Clearly, that decision was overturned somehow. Anyway, Mike didn’t know Bill. And Bill didn’t know Mike. And who cared about some over-popular jock anyway?

Finals week was coming up and Mike went to the library for some last-minute study time. They had never studied so hard in their life. So, when they were done, they were as tired as they’d ever been in their life. On their way back to their dorm, they spotted a man with curly hair looking dejected and trying not to shed a tear. He was sitting on the steps next to the “Jackson Dormitory for Men” sign. Mike walked slowly closer.

“Are you alright?” They asked him.

“It's nothing.”

Mike took a seat next to him. “Hey, it’s okay to talk about it. Talking is good.”

He ran a hand through his curls, “My girl and I broke it off.”

“Oh. I'm sorry to hear that.”

He sighed. “I loved Terry but she was no good for me.”

Mike’s eyes widened. “Bill Baker? You’re the freshman football hero? All-American Dreamboat Bill Baker?”

The man looked surprised, “Yeah, that's me.”

Mike looked him over. He had broad shoulders and a decent build. He was tall, a bit tan, and had the largest hands they’d ever seen. Their eyes flitted past his. They were brown. Warm. He was beautiful.

“I’d never have taken you for a freshman.”

He chuckled. “Why?”

“You're not built like any freshman I’ve ever seen.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“Mm hmm.”

Mike cleared their throat. “Anyway, if there's anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“Thank you.”

The pair sat in silence for a moment until Bill broke it.

“Hey, you know my name,” Bill said. “Why haven’t I seen you before?”

Mike shrugged. “I’m a junior.”

“A junior?”

Mike nodded. “I’m doing upper division coursework. I tutor a bit on the side.”

“You only tutor English?” he asked.

Mike nodded. “I do. Do you need help with an essay? Are you taking English 101 this semester?”

Bill shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Well,” Mike said, standing up. “If you ever need an essay written or a listening ear, I’m around. Dormitory for Women, room 12. Or, I’m at the library.”

“You ever go to a football game?”

Mike shook their head. “I don’t do sports. Or school spirit. I’m in the volunteering club too.”

“I don’t have much time for volunteering.”

Mike nodded slowly. “Uh, well, see you around.”

“See you around.”

Mike walked off into the dark, toward their dorm room.

Once Mike met Bill, they found him in more places. He was in the cafeteria. He was in the library. They walked past each other on the way to class. Mike saw him practicing on the football field as they took their morning walks. Him, and his roommate, Junior Jackson. Junior was a gawky sort of fellow. It amazed Mike that he was on the football team at all. He wore circular glasses and a sweater, cardigan, and bow tie. All the makings for a nerd. Still, as Mike understood it, he made a passable kicker, and Bill had become a dear friend.

Bill and Junior were talking leaning against a fence near the football field as Mike passed on their way to the library, for a tutoring session.

“Hey, Mike!” Bill said as they walked passed.

Mike stopped, entirely confused.

“I want you to meet my pal, Junior Jackson.”

Now, why would he want that?

They readjusted their book bag and glanced at Junior, who gave them a polite wave.

“Hi, Junior,” Mike said. “I’m Mike.”

“Just Mike?” he asked.

Mike shrugged. “My last name’s not important. We’re not all sons of alumni.”

They cringed immediately.

“I didn’t mean to come off like I’m bitter about that. I’m sure you’re a great guy.”

“I’m not upset,” Junior replied, in a lighthearted tone.

“Well, good. Um, I have a tutoring appointment to get to, so if you’ll excuse me?”

“Tutoring?” he asked. “You’re a tutor?”

Mike nodded. “I am. If you need an English tutor, I’m the guy.”

“Oh, no thank you.”

Bill chimed in, “Junior’s pretty smart.”

“Ah, well, maybe he can be a tutor once he’s done more classes. You never can have enough tutors. Bye, guys.”

Bill and Junior waved goodbye, and Mike headed to the library for their tutoring session.

The next time Mike saw Bill, it was just after their last English final. He was next to the English building, for reasons unknown, talking to a man Mike knew nothing about. Perhaps he was on the football team. Maybe he was a classmate of Bill’s. Just as Mike walked past, the other man left, leaving Bill alone.

“Hi, Mike,” he said as they passed him. “How’d finals go?”

Mike stopped, and walked over by the steps, where he was standing, “Alright. It was a lot of essay exams.”

“That must’ve been awful.”

They shrugged, “I like essays.”

Bill’s eyes widened like Mike had said something incredibly outlandish. “You like essays?”

“I’m an English major, Bill. What do you think we do?”

“A lot of reading?”

“Well, yeah, but with the reading comes the writing. We write about the reading and read about the writing.”

“That sounds like it gets tiresome.”

“Not really. There’s always something interesting to read. Anyway, how were your finals?”

Bill shrugged. “They went okay.”

“How was football season? What do you do next semester, now that there’s no football?”

“Football season had its up and downs,” he replied. “I bet you know I was expelled, huh?”

Mike nodded. “I heard, yeah.”

“Mr. Jackson had to pull some strings to get me back in.”

“What are you doing over winter break?”

He shrugged. “Goin’ home. I might work at Mr. Jackson’s plant for a couple weeks.”

Bill’s eyes lit up.

“What?” Mike asked.

“A friend of mine on the team is throwing an end-of-finals party, are you coming?”

Mike laughed. “You think I was invited to that? Or even told about it?”

He looked puzzled. “I thought he invited everybody.”

“On the team, I imagine. The team’s girls. The girls he thinks are pretty. The girls’ plus ones. People who get invited to parties. Not nerdy English majors he’s never met.”

“You’re not nerdy.”

Mike pushed up their glasses. “I’m an English major with a 3.8 GPA who wears glasses and works as a tutor. What’s nerdier than that?”

Bill smiled. “Bow ties?”

Mike chuckled. “Well, maybe I’m not Junior, but I’m not Miss Popular.”

“Come as my plus one.”

Mike gave him a sideways glance. What was his angle?

“Why?” they asked.

“I don’t have a date.”

Mike scoffed. “And I was your first option?”

“I was gonna go with Terry.”

They frowned. “Oh.”

“You got something better to do?”

No. They were likely going to pack to go home. Or read a book alone in their room.

“What’s this party going to be like?” they asked. “I don’t want to go and have you get drunk on me.”

“Like any college party. Lots of dancing. Music. Some snacks. People kissing in the corners.”

“I’m up for dancing and snacking but don’t expect any kissing.”

He chuckled. “Okay.”

“What should I wear?”

“Whatever you want. It’s not fancy.”

“When is it?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?” Mike asked, surprised.

“Well, yeah, it’s the end of finals. Everybody’s going home tomorrow.”

Mike nodded. “Well, see you tonight. Meet me at my dorm? Room 12, remember?”

“‘Dormitory for Women, room 12.’” Bill repeated, “I remember.”

Later that evening, Mike was in a panic. They shuffled through their drawer of sweaters while their roommate looked on, amused.

Ellen looked up from her book. “Mike, what on Earth are you so stressed about?”

“I don’t know what to wear!” Mike said, still shuffling. “What do you wear?”

She set her book down. “Wear to what?”

“Bill’s taking me to some end-of-finals party.”

“Bill? Surely not Bill Baker.”

Mike turned around. “That’s the one.”

She looked puzzled. “Since when does Bill Baker invite you anywhere?”

Mike shrugged. “Since today.”

She furrowed her brow, almost closing her hazel eyes. “Hm. I feel like I’m in an alternate universe. My nerdy roommate has a date. With Bill Baker, no less.”

“Hey, now.”

“Well, it’s true!”

Mike held up a red sweater and a green sweater. “Red or green? They have matching skirts.”

“Go with the green. It’ll look nice with your shade of red lipstick.”

Mike stared at their green sweater for a long minute. “That’s true. How should I wear my hair?”

Ellen laughed. “You like him, don’t you?”

Mike stopped short. “Like him? I’m not keen on him, if that’s what you mean.” “That is what I mean! What girl goes through all this trouble for a boy she doesn’t like?”

Mike winced.

“Right. Sorry. I know you don’t like being called a girl. I’m still right, though.”

“That’s alright. I’m not crushing. I’m not. This is my first party, that’s all.”

“Mm hm. Well, I say wear your hair like you always do. It’s pretty. Maybe lose the glasses?”

Mike looked at themselves in the mirror. “Well, I could. My vision isn’t that bad. If I’m not reading, I’ll be okay.”

They took off their glasses and folded them on the table. They pulled on their green sweater and matching patterned skirt. As quickly as they could, they applied their powder, blush, lipstick, and mascara. The eyeliner still needed work, but they were trying.

There was a knock at the door as Mike was slipping on their shoes.

“Get that, would you, Ellen?”

Ellen set her book down again, and opened the door.

Mike heard Bill ask, “Oh, who are you?”

“I’m Mike’s roommate, Ellen,” she replied. “Mike’s putting on shoes, It’ll just be a moment.”

Mike slipped their last shoe on, and stood up. Ellen moved out of the way.

“Hi, Bill,” Mike greeted.

“Hi. You look nice.”

Mike scanned Bill head to toe. He was in a dark brown blazer, magenta sweater, and brown slacks, of a lighter shade. He wore a white shirt underneath. No tie.

Mike swallowed. “So do you. Nice sweater.”

“Thank you. Ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

Bill linked arms with Mike as they walked out of the girls’ dormitory. Mike’s heartbeat quickened, out of sheer nervousness.

“Where is this party anyway?”

“My friend’s place. He lives just a little ways from campus.”

Stranger’s house. Lovely.

As it turned out, Bill’s football friend had a pretty large house and his folks were out. He must be one of the rich kids of Ridgeville, Mike thought. The party wasn’t very loud. There was some jazz on the radio, and everyone was dancing with a partner to it, or sitting out. As expected, there were snacks, and a few couples kissing in the corners. Mike looked away.

“Do you want a soda?” Bill asked them.

“No, thank you.”

“I’ll get me a soda. Want some chips?”

“Sure.”

Mike stood off to the side as Bill went to get snacks. They watched everyone dance. It reminded them of school dances they’d been to, where they’d been a lonely wallflower all night. Anyway, they had a date tonight. A fact they still couldn’t wrap their mind around.

They didn’t recognize anyone at the party. Not even Junior was there. Maybe this wasn’t Junior’s scene either. It sure wasn’t Mike’s.

Bill came back, a glass soda bottle in one hand, and chips in a bowl in another. He handed them the chips.

“Here.”

Mike took them. “Hey, Bill, where’s Junior?”

“He’ll be here in a minute. I don’t think he’s got a date, but he said he was coming.”

Mike frowned. “He’s not going to be a third wheel is he?”

“No, I’ll find him someone to dance with.”

“Good. I’d hate to see him tagging along behind us, all alone. I know how that feels.”

“He won’t be.”

Mike munched on their chips while Bill sipped his soda, gently swaying to the song.

“You have to know, Bill, I’m not a good dancer.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.”

Just as they finished their snacks, and were about to dance, Junior came in.

“Bill, hey, Bill!” he called.

“Over here, Junior!”

Junior was in his usual bow tie and sweater but he put a blazer over it. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Oh, hi, Mike,” Junior greeted. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“I’m Bill’s plus one.”

“Oh! I didn’t know. I don’t have a date.”

Bill laid a hand on Junior’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, pal, we’ll find you a dame.”

Mike laughed. “You call women dames?”

“Oh, yeah,” Junior said. “He does. Lots of times.”

“Broads too? Chicks? Or just dames?”

Bill shrugged. “I mostly call ‘em dames. I’m used to it.”

“Well, I suppose there are worse names.”

“Who d’ya think will dance with me, Bill?” Junior asked him.

“Any girl worth dancing with.”

Bill scanned the room for women without dancing partners. He spotted a short brunette in a swing dress. “Hey, how about her?”

“I don’t know, Bill, she’s very pretty.”

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Mike interjected, “He’s worried about her not wanting him. I understand that feeling.”

Junior nodded. “I have a hard time with girls, especially the pretty ones.”

Bill pulled Junior toward the short brunette, leaving Mike on the other side of the room. Mike watched Bill point to Junior, apparently making his best sales pitch. The girl shrugged, and took Junior’s hand. The pair walked to the middle of the room to dance.

When Bill returned, Mike said, “You weren’t kidding. There he goes.”

“She didn’t have a date. She figured Junior was as good as any guy.”

Mike frowned. “Hm. That’s sad.”

“Wanna dance?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“Sure.”

Mike took Bill’s hand, and walked to the center of the room. He put a hand around their waist, and held their hand with the other. The song they caught was a slow one. Someone had changed the station. Bill pulled them close and they danced gently to the music.

“Bill?” Mike asked.

“Yeah?”

“Why’d you invite me?”

“I needed a date.”

“I know that. But why me? You hardly know me.”

“I figure that’s why. I hardly know you. I wanted to get to know you.”

Mike looked up into his brown eyes. “Why? Don’t guys like you get lots of girls? You had your pick, surely?”

He twirled them, and then rested his hand back on their waist.

“Hm. Well, you’re nice. Who else would’ve seen me almost crying and talked to me?”

“Lots of nice people.”

“You were the only one.”

“Well, you know, I don’t like seeing people down.”

“Sometimes a guy wants a nice girl.”

Mike winced, but said nothing about it.

“And you’re pretty too,” he said. “Especially now that I can look into your pretty blue eyes.”

Mike’s brain short circuited. Pretty? Their eyes? Their grey-blue small eyes? Their first response was to retort.

“Well, uh, thank you,” they said instead.

“We’re the same height with those heels of yours,” he said casually.

Mike furrowed their eyebrows. “So?”

“Makes it easy to look at you without craning my neck.”

Mike doubted Bill’s reasoning but they didn’t say anything. The song ended and the pair walked back toward the wall. Mike’s eyes caught another couple kissing.

“Um, well, what now?” they asked. “How long is this thing?”

Bill shrugged. “Until folks leave, I guess.”

“So…more dancing? Another soda? Do you have something you want to talk about?”

“What are you doing over winter break?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Sleeping. Reading. Returning home to my television set.”

“Where do you live?”

“Where do I live?” Mike asked, in a mixture of shock and amusement.

“I might wanna come by.”

“I’m a couple of towns away.”

“I’ll catch a bus.”

“You mean-?” Mike asked, genuinely surprised. “You mean you actually want to see me again?”

“Well, yes?” Bill replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “We could catch a movie. What do you wanna see?”

“Whatever’s playing I guess. Why do you want to see me again?”

“I like you.”

“Like me?” Mike asked. “What does that mean?”

He shrugged. “It means I like you. I wanna be around you. I might wanna catch a movie with you.”

“Does that make us friends?”

“Friends?” Bill asked, bewildered. “I was thinking of going together.”

“Going…together? As in? Out? As in? Dating? As in?”

Bill laughed. “You’ve never been asked out, have you?”

Mike stuttered, “Well, uh, no. Especially not, well, by a, well, you.”

“By a me?” he asked, amused.

“By…a popular sports guy. By a guy all the freshman girls go crazy for.”

“Not all the freshman girls.”

“Enough of them.”

“Is that a yes or no?”

Mike nodded. “Okay. We’ll catch a movie. I’ll give you my parents’ telephone number after the party. When you wanna go, just call? Okay?”

Bill smiled. “Okay.”

Bill took their hand and led them out to the dance floor. Soon, everyone began to file out. Mike was still swaying with him, with their head on his shoulder.

Eventually, Junior tapped Bill on the shoulder.

“I think the party’s over, Bill. Everyone’s gone.”

He looked around. “Shoot, I guess they are. We better go. It’s a long day of packing tomorrow.”

Bill walked Mike back to the Women’s dormitory. It was after hours.

“Hey, Bill, wait here would you?” Mike asked. “I’ll write down my parents’ telephone number and be right down.”

“Sure.”

Mike ran up to their room, as quietly as they could. They tore a piece of paper out of one of their notebooks. They scribbled their parents’ number on it, then hurried down to meet Bill. He was still standing by the steps, with his hands in his pockets.

“Here,” they said, handing him the paper. “When you call, ask for me. You don’t have to say anything else.”

“Your folks won’t want to know who I am?”

“Mm. They might. But that’s for me to tell them…or not.”

Bill chuckled. “Well, I’ll call you.”

Mike smiled at him. “I’ll be by the phone.”

Bill left with one last smile at them.

Mike walked back to their room to crash.

#i could not think of another title #just borrowing that from the stooge lol #ellen's an oc. i needed someone to be my roommate lol #typewriter dings #self ship #self shipping community #b.b.

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