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thebibliosphere · 3 years

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So I'm currently unemployed because I got fired for taking too much sick leave (it was legally sketchy blah blah blah but in the end I just can't work and take care of myself and investigate my mystery health problems at the same time). So I've been spending more time writing!

I really admire your writing and loved Hunger Pangs. I'm looking forward to the poly elements developing and I'm wondering if you have any advice for writing about poly. I've made one of my projects a snarky take on "write what you know" ... Apparently what I know is southern gothic meets Pacific northwest gothic, chronic illness pandemic surrealism, and falling back-asswards into threesomes.

I know this is a very open-ended question and I don't expect an answer, I'm just curious about it if you have the energy. As a writer, trying to write honestly / realistically about polyamory/enm, I'm curious if you have any thoughts on what's different about portraying monogamy or nonmonogamy in books, romance or erotica or otherwise.

I'm trying to read examples but it's hard to find examples that fit the niche I'm looking at. Excuse me if this question is nonsense, it's the cluster headaches.

I'm sorry to hear you've been dealing with all that and solidarity on the cluster headaches. But I'm glad you're finding an outlet through writing! And I hope you're happy with an open-ended ramble in response because oh boy, there's a lot I could talk about and I could probably do a better job of answering this sort of thing with more specific questions, but let's see where we end up.

There's definitely a big difference between writing polyamory/ENM (ethical non-monogamy) and what people often expect from monogamous love stories.

Just even from a purely sales and marketing standpoint, the moment you write anything polyamorous (or even just straight up LGBTQIA+ without the ENM) you're going to get considered closer to being erotica/obscene than hetero romances. It's an unfair bias, but it's one that exists in our society. But also the Amazon algorithm and their shitty, shitty human censors. Especially the ones that work the weekends. (Talking to you, Carlos 🖕.)

So not only do you start out hyper-aware that you're writing something that is highly stigmatized or fetishized (at least I'm hyper-aware) but that you are also writing for a niche market that is starving for positive content because the content that exists is either limited, not what they want, or is problematic in some fashion i.e. highly stigmatized or fetishy. And even then, the wants, desires, and expectations of the community you're writing for are complex and wildly varied and hard to fit into an easy formula.

When writing monogamous love stories, there is a set expectation that’s really hard to fuck up once you know it. X person meets Y. Attraction happens, followed by some sort of minor conflict/resolution. Other plot may happen. A greater catalyst involving personal growth for both parties (hopefully) happens. Follow the equation to its ultimate resolution and achieve Happily Ever After.

But writing ENM is... a lot more difficult, if only because of the pure scope of possibilities. You could try to follow the same equation and shove three (or more) people into it, but it rarely works well. Usually because if you’re doing it right, you won’t have enough room in a single character arc to allow for enough growth, and if ENM requires anything in abundance, it’s room to grow.

And this post is huge so I’m going to put the rest under a cut :)

There's also a common refrain in certain online polyam/ENM circles that triads and throuples are overrepresented in media and they may be right to some extent. Personally, I believe the issue isn't that triads and throuples are overrepresented, but that there is such minuscule positive rep of ethical non-monogamy in general, that the few tiny instances we have of triads in media make it seem like it's "everywhere" when in actuality, it's still quite rare and the media we do have often veers into Unicorn Hunter fetish porn. Which is its own problematic thing. And just to be clear, I’m not including this part to dissuade you from writing "falling back-asswards into threesomes." If anything, I need more of it and would hook it directly into my brain if I could. I'm just throwing it out there into the void in the hope that someone will take the thought and run with it, lol.

I’d love to see more polyfidelitous rep in fiction, just as much as I’d like to see more relationship anarchy too. More diversity in fiction is always good.

Another thing that differs in writing ENM romance vs conventional monogamy is the feeling like you need to justify yourself. There's a lot of pressure to be as healthy and non-problematic as possible because you are being held to a higher standard of criticism. Both from people from without the ENM communities, and from the people within. Granted, some people don't give a shit and just want to read some fantastic porn (valid) but there are those who will cheerfully read Fifty Shades of Bullshit and call it "spicy" and "romantic," then turn around and call the most tooth-rottingly-sweet-fluff about a queer platonic polycule heresy. That's just the way the world works.

(Pro-tip for author life in general: never read your own reviews; that way madness lies. I glimpsed one the other day that tagged Hunger Pangs as “ethical cheating” and just about had an aneurism.)

And while that feeling of needing to justify yourself comes from a valid place of being excluded from the table of socially accepted norms, it can also be to the detriment of both the story and the subject matter at hand. I've seen some authors bend so far over backward to avoid being problematic in their portrayal of ENM, they end up being problematic for entirely different reasons. Usually because they give such a skewed, rose-tinted perspective of how things work, it ends up coming off as well... a bit culty and obnoxious tbh.

“Look how enlightened we are, freed from the trappings of monogamy and jealousy! We’re all so honest and perfect and happy!”

Yeah, uhu, sure Jan. Except here’s the thing, not all jealousy is bad. How you act on it can be, but jealousy itself is an important tool in the junk drawer that is the range of human emotion. It can clue us in to when we’re feeling sad or neglected, which in turn means we should figure out why we’re feeling those things. Sometimes it’s because brains are just like that and anxiety is a thing. Other times it’s because our needs are actually being neglected and we are in an unhealthy situation we need to remedy. You gotta put the work in to figure it out. Which is the same as any style of relationship, whether it’s mono, polyam or whatever flavor of ENM you subscribe to* And sometimes you just gotta be messy, because that’s how humans are. Being afraid to show that mess makes it a dishonest portrayal, and it also robs you of some great cannon fodder for character development.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to my current pet peeve in how certain writers take monogamous ideals and apply them to ENM, sometimes without even realizing it. The “Find the Right Person and Settle Down” trope.

Often, in this case, ENM or polyamory is treated as a phase. Something you mature out of with age or until you meet “The One(tm).” This is, of course, an attempt to follow the mono style formula expected in most romances. And while it might appeal to many readers, it’s uh, actually quite insulting.

To give an example, I am currently seeing this a lot in the Witcher fandom.

Fanon Netflix!Jaskier is everyone's favorite ethical slut until he meets Geralt then woops, wouldn’t you know, he just needed to find The One(tm). Suddenly, all his other sexual and romantic exploits or attractions mean nothing to him. Let's watch as he throws away a core aspect of his personality in favor of a man.

Yeah... that sure showed those societal norms...

If I were being generous, I’d say it’s a poor attempt at showing New Relationship Euphoria and how wrapped up people can become in new relationships. But honestly, it’s monogamous bias eking its way in to validate how special and unique the relationship is. Because sometimes people really can’t think of any other way to show how important and valid a relationship is without defining it in terms of exclusivity. Which is a fundamental misunderstanding of how ENM works for a lot of people and invalidates a lot of loving, serious and long-term relationships.

This is not to say that some polyam/poly-leaning people can't be happy in monogamous relationships! I am! (I consider myself ambiamorous. I'm happy with either monogamy or polyamory, it really just depends on the relationship(s) I’m in.) But I also don't regard my relationship with a mono partner as "settling down" or "growing up." It's just a choice I made to be with a person I love, and it's a valid one. Just like choosing to never close yourself off to multiple relationships is valid. And I wish more people realized that, or rather, I wish the people writing these things knew that :P

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled enough. I hope this collection of incoherent thoughts actually makes some sense and might be useful.

----

*A good resource book that doesn't pull any punches in this regard is Polysecure by Jessica Fern. It's a wonderfully insightful read that explores the messier side of consensual non-monogamy, especially with how it can be affected by trauma or inter-relationship conflicts. But it also shows how to take better steps toward healthy, ethical non-monogamy (a far better job than More Than Two**) and conflict resolution, making it a valuable resource both for someone who is a part of this relationship style***, but also for writers on the outside looking in who might have a very simple or misguided idea of what conflict within polyam/ENM relationships might look like, vs traditional monogamous ones.

** The author of More Than Two has been accused of multiple accounts of abuse within the polyamorous community, with many of his coauthors having spoken out about the gaslighting and emotional and psychological damage they experienced while in a relationship with him. A lot of their stories are documented here: https://www.itrippedonthepolystair.com/ (warning: it is not light material and deals with issues of abuse, gaslighting, and a whole other plethora of Yikes.) While some people still find More Than Two helpful reading, there are now, thankfully, much, much better resources out there.

*** Some people consider polyam/ENM to be part of their identity or orientation, while others view it as a relationship style.It largely depends on the individual.

#long post #writing #ethical non-monogamy #relationship styles #relationship models in fiction #also that kindle link is an affiliate link #because fuck giving amazon free recs

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zackcollins · 3 years

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speechless || bo bichette

masterlist

Author’s Note: Hello! Everyone gets a treat of a second fic today because I was in a mood to write. Hope that’s okay. Idk man. When you’re in the mood to write, you write. And sometimes, you just wanna post right away because you’re too impatient to wait. Ya know? Anyways. GIF credit to glasnow!

Warnings: An anxiety attack. That’s probably it??? I don’t think there’s anything else. Feel free to let me know otherwise and I’ll fix this warnings section for you.

Word Count: 1.9k+

Title: Speechless by Dan + Shay

Additional: The reader should be gender neutral again! I don’t think I used any identifying language or pronouns or anything. If I did, it was accidental because I was hella distracted watching my dog while my grandparents went grocery shopping. As always, let me know how I did because constructive criticism is always welcomed!

Tagging: @whimsical-daydreams @donttelltheelf-x

You had suffered from severe anxiety; it had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember. At this point, it had totally consumed you. You could hardly do anything anymore without your anxiety trying to take over in some form or another. It was the worst feeling in the world.

That's why it was like all your prayers had been answered when Bo waltzed into your life. For the first time in your life, you were able to open up about your anxiety with someone. There was just something about Bo that made you feel safe, secure, and like nothing would ever hurt you again.

You had been dating for about two and a half years before your relationship changed. It changed on what had otherwise been a quiet day in the middle of February. Snow was falling outside of your house, blowing around peacefully in the evening breeze. You were sitting on the window seat of the living room window, staring out onto the street while idly sipping on a mug of hot chocolate.

Somewhere outside, you heard a dog distantly barking. You found it odd because to the best of your knowledge, nobody in the housing community you and Bo lived in had a dog. Most of them had cats because they were easier for their housekeepers to look after when they were away on business trips or vacation. You quickly shook it out of your mind, though, thinking it only to be a dog that had wandered in from somewhere nearby. It wasn't entirely unlikely for that to happen because some of the people in the housing communities on either side had been known to let their dogs roam freely from time to time.

A couple of minutes later, you heard the front door to the house open. That snapped you out of thinking about the barking dog because you needed to know who walked in. Turning around, you heaved a relieved sign when you saw Bo standing in the entryway. You felt a little anxious, however, when you saw that he had placed a rather large box at his feet. Placing your hot chocolate on the windowsill, you walked over to Bo.

"What's this, sweetie?" You asked, walking all the way around the box. You wanted to see if it had some sort of label or marking on it that would hint at what was inside; it did not. All it had was a pink ribbon embossed with white hearts tied around it.

Bo smiled as he was undressing from his winter apparel. He tossed his hat into the closet. He unzipped his coat and carefully placed it on one of the coat hooks beside the door. Lastly came his boots. He slipped out of those and tossed them haphazardly onto the plastic boot mat you had bought specifically for the winter so snow wouldn’t be tracked all over your house. He ended up bowling over your boots and a spare pair of boots you kept in case of emergencies. You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Bo raised his arms in surrender as he stepped forward and gave you a quick kiss. You relaxed, kissing him back as you wrapped your arms around his back. When you pulled apart, Bo stepped aside and motioned to the box.

"If you wanna know what’s inside,” Bo produced a pocket knife seemingly out of nowhere because you didn’t know him to carry one. He handed it to you and motioned to the box a second time. “All you have to do is open it.”

You walked forward and leaned over, carefully cutting the ribbon a couple of times so that it was easier to untangle from the box. Once you had all of the ribbon untangled and balled up, you placed it along with the knife on the console table next to you. When you looked back at Bo, he gave you an encouraging nod and a soft smile. You bit your lip nervously as you carefully lifted the lid off of the box. What was inside made you blink in surprise. Staring back at you was a beagle puppy. You had to blink a couple of more times, just to make sure that truly weren't imagining this. When you surmised that this was, in fact, a real dog sitting in the box, you lifted them out, cradling them in your arms. They even kissed you on the chin a couple of times. That was also all it took for you to be absolutely smitten with this puppy.

Just as you went to put the puppy down, the light from the chandelier made something on their collar glisten. At first, you thought it was name tags or the city registration tags. But, when you examined it, you discovered that it was an engagement ring. You turned to ask Bo about it. Much to your surprise, he was down on one knee, holding his hands out. You handed him the dog (who you could now see was a boy), thinking that was what he wanted. Bo chuckled as he scritched the dog behind the ears. The dog sighed, jackrabbitting his back foot in satisfaction. You huffed an amused breath, rolling your eyes and chuckling.

Bo carefully put the dog down and took the ring off of his collar. He gave him a few more ear scritches which made the dog flop on the floor and curl in a ball. Bo rolled his eyes before he looked up at you, holding the ring in your direction.

"Since I know I'm the best thing to happen to you and you're the best thing to happen to me," Bo paused, wiping tears out of the corners of his eyes, "I was wondering if you'd marry me?"

You clammed up. You felt your anxiety wash over you like a giant wave crashing into the surf. You fell to the floor, chanting a bunch of incoherent nonsense as you curled into a ball and clutched your knees tightly to your chest. You rocked back and forth, tears streaming down your face as you continued to death-grip your knees. It was then that you felt Bo wrap you in his arms. He cradled you, rocking you in time with how you were rocking yourself. Only, he was doing it softer, gentler. He was also mumbling some of his stats from last season, the stats from the hockey game you watched yesterday. Hell, he even started mumbling what you needed to buy when you went grocery shopping the next time. Anything mundane and boring because he knew that was what generally helped you out of anxiety episodes. The more boring the better. It gave a sense of normalcy and order that helped your brain to focus on the everyday parts of life as opposed to the falsehoods of meaningless compliments that people only said to you when you were in the middle of an anxiety episode.

Hearing about baseball and hockey stats as well as what groceries you needed to buy helped remarkably well. You calmed down relatively quickly given how badly this attack had started. You tilted your head, looking Bo in the eyes. Your eyes were full of a question that didn’t need to be asked but probably should be anyways. Bo, knowing how to read you by now, simply nodded. He met you halfway as you connected your lips. You shared a brief, albeit meaningful kiss.

When you broke your lips apart, you held your hand out. "Of course I'll marry you."

You smiled, though it was a little awkward because you were still recovering from your anxiety attack, as Bo placed the ring on your finger. You moved your hand around, looking at the ring from every angle. It was a gorgeous ring. It was also simple and not very flashy. Which is something you had told Bo you wanted when the time came for him to finally propose. You weren’t a flashy or extravagant person so there was no need to have a flashy or extravagant ring. The thought of having an expensive or flashy ring made you really anxious. You were afraid that somebody would break in and steal it from you. And you didn’t want to live the entire rest of your life in fear that someone was going to break into your house to steal something from you. You had told Bo that that was no way to live. That’s why you were content with a small, simple ring. You didn’t have to live in a constant state of anxiety that some schmuck off the street was going to get the wise idea to break in one night and rob you of it. And the ring Bo had picked was exactly the ring you had been eyeing the last time you were in a jewellery store. So, it worked out even better.

Bo snapped you out of your thought by grabbing you by the chin with his thumb and forefinger. He tilted your face up so that you were looking at each other directly. Bo’s eyes flitted down to your lips and then quickly back up to look at you. You nodded as best you could with Bo holding onto your chin, a soft smile breaking out across your lips. Bo smiled back, dropping his hand away from your chin. He, instead, grabbed your hand and interlaced your fingers. You huffed softly before you leaned forward and connected your lips with Bo’s. Bo smirked into the kiss, bringing his other hand up and resting it against your shoulder. The kiss was far more passionate than the first and you swore it could’ve gone on forever and ever. The only reason you stopped was because the puppy weaseled his way in between you and licked both of your noses. Bo laughed and booped the puppy on his nose. You made an amused noise and scritched the puppy's chest.

Bo turned back to you after you both spent a few moments playing with the puppy. "Sorry for surprising you. I know how you hate surprises."

"It's alright, Bo. It would've defeated the whole purpose if you told me," you responded, moving in closer to Bo.

At that moment, the puppy plopped himself down in between the two of you. You both scratched him behind either ear. He made a soft groan of appreciation, before falling fast asleep. He was snoring softly after a few moments which made both you and Bo chuckle bemusedly.

"What do we name him?" Bo asked, picking him up and placing him in your lap.

"Biscuit!" You replied with excitement. The dog responded to that, briefly opening his eyes and snuffling before he went back to sleep. "See! He likes that name."

Your smile grew wider as your leaned down and gave Biscuit a kiss on the head. He snuffled again, his tail wagging against your knee. You lit up significantly, almost forgetting that you had had an anxiety attack a few minutes ago.

“Scratch that,” you said, a smile beaming on your face. “He loves that name.”

Bo just shook his head, chuckled, and waved a dismissive hand at you. "You're such a huge dork. You know that, right?"

"But I’m your huge dork," you replied, pointing to the ring on your finger as proof of that claim.

"Yes, yes you are."

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softer-ua · 3 years

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in regards to what you pointed out a few posts ago, ngl one of my least favorite fandom things is when they make Kaminari the Har Har Stupid Joking ADHD Bi Playboy Who Is Never Serious Trope. like, he's very smart, 'worst in ___ area of a UA course' is very impressive and I don't remember if it even said that or just that he was studying with some other students, worried about his grades overall, calls himself stupid with implied insecurities about it, and didn't think he was very smart compared to the other people in the course. quirk overuse makes him loopy, incoherent, and think everything's funny. and yeah, he's a bit of a flirt and made a few perverted comments and actions that he clearly didn't think through that well. I'm pretty sure he's not ever stated to be bi in the manga because it was written by a coward, so I think people should think more about why they're associating and pairing together the idea of "hot flirty playboy who if legally able would sleep with everyone he meets" with emphasis or joke in the captions of whatever the content is on him being bi. I don't think this is inherently bad, even put together, but the execution feels kind of :/ and shallow. and I mainly just wish they'd pause to consider if there's any reason (subconscious or intentional) why one of those makes them think about the other, and at the very least lean back to see if they're blatantly making those traits centric around each other and tweak how they're showing them a little. Part of this is also because it's basically his fanon sexuality, but then they stick together "oh he's bi and everyone thinks that" and "he's made flirty or perverted comments and actions in canon at some point" and then mentally exaggerate and have this Canon Image of him as *waves hand at above* and I don't think that's happening consciously in most cases but. again. Cookiecutter Bi Party Playboy Who's Made a Date Offer to Everyone In The Building. not a flirty Person or a Playboy who is bi and flirts with more than one genders

I myself headcanon him as adhd and while the exact sexuality depends on my mood I think of/have him as bi in a lot of my content, but it's the same thing with why non adhd people see how he acts and label "adhd!" Especially about comprehension speed and derpy acting and intelligence and attention span jokes/tropes. Again, not bad in and of itself, but the specific parts of his behavior that make them think he's adhd, or that they start making jokes about or Ha Ha ADHD'ing, or that they think is why we project ADHD on him, (which they aren't necessarily wrong about, but like right in a really disrespectful look at how funny this is oh look squirrel way that's only funny when adhd people are doing it and it isn't all mocking like that) when they see other people calling him adhd, are the wrong ones, I think, and it shows in their characterization of him.

I'm not saying that any of those traits are bad in a character, but as a queer adhd girl with very high annual test scores and Gifted Kid Intelligence but extremely poor grades, focus, and brain damage (admittedly nothing like his, it was a longterm passive thing that mainly just made me have a Lot of Really Bad headaches, and closest thing it did to me was make me sluggish and emotional on bad days and also techincally have the potential kill my language bit if left untreated or the surgery messed up, which it didn't, and it won't be a problem again. but even after explaining that it wasn't cancer or any sort of tumor, and after seeing it do very little at all to affect my behavior outside of irritability and performance, because y'know, constant migraines, gone after the surgery but this was before that, Certain People I Was Vaguely Kind Of Acquaintances With started to treat my like I was a fragile glass thing going to to drop dead and revive myself speaking like a comic relief cartoon crazy person at any moment which was. patronizing.) I've since had surgery for, the way the fandom combines them into stereotypes and portrays them really just rubs me the wrong way- "Flirty Bi(tm) Playboy" "Har Har ADHD Can't Focus Or Get Things After They're Explained To Him, He's Still Confused And An Idiot" "Stupid Person With Brain Damage Who Can't Take Care Of Or Think For Themself And Acts Stupid And Funny For People To Laugh At" which tbh is super ableist even and especially when people irl do fit that description, and also reminds me of the Autistic Person Freaking Out And Being Dramatic sense of humor. And I know it's not helped by canon, because it done for comic relief and to limit his powers, but explored more I think it as a limitation could have been used way more interestingly than canon did and also call me biased but that quirk induced brain frying sounds at least as concerning as Izuku's quirk's backlash.

And it's a shame!! Because he's so much more interesting than that! Instead, the fandom gives me the Cookicutter Funny Bi ADHD Flirt Who's An Idiot and I am sad about it.

tbh it reminds me of what happened to percy jackson, esp with the ADHD Idiot Trope thing. which sucks because apparently it originated in the author making up stories around characters like his adhd and dyslexic kid inspired by Greek myths to tell him after running out of actual myths because it was his special interest and he wanted more. and then the series got kind of all over the place and the fandom processed that the adhd and dyslexic main character who does dumb things sometimes but is very combat smart and great at strategizing and leading gets bad grades and has trouble focusing and has, y'know, adhd, and made him the ADHD Idiot and erased his Gifted Kid girl friend's traits and ADHD and dyslexia into No Nonsense Calls Him an Idiot And Thinks He's Stupid And Has To Tell Him What To Do And Manage His Life For Him and honestly that just kind of sucks and it reminds me of what happened to fandom Kaminari. and now that I think of it people have jirou like that around him a lot too.

im fine with you answering this publicly if you want or have something to add but probably tag as ableism and maybe a biphobia mention content warning for people who don't have the energy to deal with thinking about those kinds of negative things rn because I kind of Went Off About It

I love this! Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts and experiences 💚(and double thank you for tag suggestions)💚

I couldn’t agree more that a lot of fandom has messed up Kami’s character, which is why I’ve kinda been posting more about him cause he’s just stuck in my head.

I think a lot of fandoms have trouble with characters like this, people have a hard time with duality in characters and fast/fun posts are easier to make if you flatten a character down.

The did it to Kami, they did it to Percy, they did it to Ron Weasley, they do it to Thor, the list goes on. If being the Smart One ™️ isn’t your thing and you can be goofy than you get pigeonholed into the idiot trope.

I feel for Kami a lot(probably because I have adhd/brain damage too)

It sucks when you’re smart but it’s not the traditional, measurable kind of smart(even if by national comparison Kami technically is).

I got terrible grades growing up, and I pretty much got the absolute lowest gpa you can get and still graduate. But absolutely no one would have known if I didn’t tell them, because I’m not dumb.

(It’s okay if you are “dumb”, I love me a head empty just vibes friend. You’re 100% valid, stil worthy of joining discussions, and should be listened to and taken seriously. This just isn’t about that tho)

I joke sometimes that I’m clever and witty but not smart, because that’s exactly what it feels like.

I have lots of thoughts and ideas that I think I articulate pretty well, I am excellent at finding the humor in things and expressing it in a way that’s funny to others too, and there is almost zero problems I can’t find a work around. And the people in my life love it, and they love to use it.

But eventually everyone in my life finds out that I’m not smart. They see the way I have to pause to Google how to calculate a tip, that I don’t know the name of all 50 states or even where to find them on a map, or I legitimately just can not spell (if you ever see a post where it looks like I used a weird word choice it’s probably because I tried 4 times and autocorrect+Google couldn’t help me and voice to text wasn’t an option)

No one ever questions my intelligence until they find out about my adhd and/or catch me struggling with it. After the mask comes off it’s like they can’t even hear me anymore, nothing I say could be true or matter because I’m now just the goofy accident prone spacy girl. My family literally calls me Spacy

And ya know what sometimes I just let people think that because it’s easier, it’s easier than explaining that I’m dyslexic and that I didn’t have a single geography/history clas until 10th grade and shocker the capital of Iowa doesn’t come up much by then. And it’s easier for me to laugh off losing my keys again than dwell on the fact that sometimes it feels like I’m losing my marbles.

And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if after this post I get a lot more “fact checkers” and push back on anything else I post.(not talking about people who want to genuinely engage,y’all are always welcome, I’m talking those people who don’t wanna look it up themselves but no longer trust me to know what I’m talking about)

Kami is a sweet brilliant boy. He’s in a nationally high ranking school, he loves the weather channel, he’s careful about his quirk that could easily hurt his friends in combat, he has a very high emotional intelligence level, he wears dorky shirts with electricity puns on them, and he pays attention to his friends and remembers a lot of little things about them.

He wants to be a hero and he takes that seriously, and the series has tried time and time again to tell y’all that smiling and laughter are an important part of that. Kami excels at this part! So what if his history grades don’t rival the top of the class, the top 5 students would struggle hard to do what Kami does.

Iida can’t relax, Momos rather shy, Todo struggles with social cues, Midoriya is canonically not funny, and jfc where to even begin with Katsuki. I’m certain they’ll all grow up to be excellent heros in their own right, but none of them are going to bring the level of joy and camaraderie that Denki can. You can’t test that into someone.

Kami also just notices people differently and has any easy way of joining in with them, he doesn’t struggle approaching Katsuki or Shinso. Sure he doesn’t hit the the nail on the head the same way Deku does but he’s the only one who has the guts and skills to try. Also he’s not that kinda friend, he’s not looking to a save these guys but pal around with them

I think Kami 100% realizes what a special case and tough nut to crack Bakugo is, I don’t think he’s just careless or too dumb realize his life’s at stake or whatever.

I think he’s purposely testing Bakugos boundaries all while trying to not be a threat to Katsukis actual ego and calling Bakugo out when he needs it in a way that not to serious. Kami knows how to be just goofy enough that he’s approachable. He’s also keyed in that the way to Bakugo is through Deku, meanwhile everyone else is stuck believing the opposite.

Kami also realized how important music is to Jiro and saw an opportunity to let her display her skills and combin the two worlds she lives, and he wasn’t afraid to get some back lash from her for it.

Like Deku Kami isn’t afraid to be uncomfortable. You really can’t teach that level of social ease, you can teach the posture and feed people a couple of lines but it’ll never hit the same. Funny approachable people have spent a lifetime learning the craft, usually out of necessity.

It’s actually what gives me the biggest adhd vibes from him, because adhd is (speculated to be) a dopamine deficiency disorder. People with adhd are constantly trying to raise their dopamine levels, and that means looking for praise and reward and nothing makes the human brain light up faster than postative human connections.

Adhd children struggle a lot with connecting with peers and often find making people laugh a fast way into people’s circles and makes it more likely people will overlook being interrupted or spaced out on.

Also adhd people are pretty much forced by their own brain structures to be genuine in all they do, low dopamine levels make it very hard to do things you don’t enjoy because there no promise of dopamine from the activity and you don’t have enough to spare, plus impulsiveness makes it really hard to not show when you do or don’t enjoy something.

I agree that Kami is also painted as overly perverted at times, he’s a little flirty but in a fun casual way but it’s not the foundation of his personality and it’s really mellowed out over the course of the series.

And while I subscribe to the bi hc from his interactions with Jiro and Shinso, we should all be very mindful that we don’t lump these characteristics together. The are separate facets of his personality that are not dependent on each other in anyway.

Kami deserves all the respect and love, I can’t wait to see our electric king again 🖤⚡️🖤

#tw ableism #ableism #tw biphobia #biphobia #softy answers #I have a sorta sad one shot about Kami and his quirks effects #should i post it?

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prettyboysdontlookatexplosions · 4 years

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so i am finally forcing myself to conclude my magicians rewatch with the last two episodes of s4, out of some combination of completionism/masochism/truly could not even process where everything was leaving off plot-wise the first time through, and i KNOW that i am UNFASHIONABLY LATE to the party of being mad about the magicians s4, but this is as it has always been a blog for whatever it is i cannot stop screaming about, so, some screaming re: not necessarily objectively the worst but the things that make me, personally, most enraged about the worst hour and a half of television i have watched in my life:

-before we even get in here, there’s just so much about… the entire show and especially this season… that makes no sense if the way it ends is Quentin Dies, so above all i am mad because this show tricked me into thinking that it was complex rather than incoherent. even setting aside the queliot of it all (which LOL), why have the entire conflict about quentin going to blackspire if you’re then going to double down on his sacrificial impulse a season later? why have him say he hopes to be a dad someday - a very tender and meaningful thing to come from a character who started the series unable to imagine even wanting a future for himself, whose deepest fears as surfaced by the mind prison back in S1 involve being unable to live independently and hurting his family, which shows such an evolution in how he sees himself and what he believes himself capable of - only to kill him 5 episodes later? is it literally just to make it hurt worse?

-so much is infuriating because it is ALMOST good! there’s ALMOST a very interesting and evocative metaphor about how the magic martin chatwin used to torture plover relentlessly keeps him alive in the poison room, something that hearkens back to eliot’s observation way back that he had all that power and still couldn’t stop thinking about the room where it happened. but then it��s all thrown in with plover of all people delivering all this shit about how people can change but no one will let you which is just, why? why would you put that idea in his mouth? what are you trying to say here?

-quentin looks EXTREMELY hot in an unzipped black sadness hoodie, very tony stark in iron man 3 vibes. this is oppressive to me. quentin should not look this hot while having to engage with such nonsense!

-the fish… the fucking fish… why would you specifically write that joshfish needs eye contact from a character who can pop out her own eye… and then use that to sideline margo from saving the most important person in her life… WHY

-alice giving margo relationship advice COULD be amazing but IS stupid because it’s the second time this season that a female character is like, “maybe i AM too much of an idiot to identify my own feelings until someone else points them out to me,” also because of the fish thing

-the alice/quentin romantic reunion… i don’t know. i don’t know what to fucking do with this. i think it is the second most infuriating thing to me, after quentin’s death, because it feels so regressive for both characters? why is alice getting back with her boyfriend of 3 years ago when her arc this season seemed to be about learning to live with her past without being trapped by it? what of eating gummy bears in modesto? it could have been a very beautiful moment for BOTH these characters who are so pathologically haunted by regret to reach a level of maturity and care that allowed them to say, we both love each other deeply and want to be a part of each other’s lives, but not the way we meant that three years ago, in a new way as careful deliberate friends which we’ve never really had a chance to be. and instead it is… the least romantic romantic scene in the history of television?

-there is so much i cannot make heads or tails of in the decisions around quentin in these two episodes and this is like top of the list, honestly. how the fuck are we supposed to read quentin’s decision to get back together with alice? because the explanation that makes sense is that he is traumatized out of his mind and extremely depressed and 2 out of the 3 most important people in her life are possessed by omnipotent god creatures maybe forever and ultimately yes he DOES love alice and he DOES trust her and no part of him is capable of engaging with anything like romantic feelings right now but he’s kind of like, well, you know what, why not. why not, if i feel like complete garbage and my best friend/unresolved former life partner love interest situation are probably going to die (especially since julia going goddess was like one of the closest things they still had to hope for beating the monster, as stated by julia herself in the previous episode!), just get back with my ex i don’t hate anymore. she’s into it, she’s here, maybe that will make me feel better. and what makes me feel like i have swallowed horse tranquilizers is that THAT IS FULLY HOW JASON RALPH PLAYS THIS SCENE???? we have seen quentin in the throes of actual love and desire, with both alice and eliot! IT DOESN’T LOOK AT ALL LIKE THIS! but that interpretation only makes sense if at some point later you are going to unpack it and undo it, which you can’t do… if he’s… dead. so: ??????????

-when alice floats the possibility that quentin has maybe managed to forgive himself, which is a bonkers thing to even be in the script at this point like that is always on some level relevant for quentin but so not in the top hundred concerns relating to the actual situation at hand broadly or on the alice/quentin level, nothing about quentin’s response says the answer is yes??? he takes this heartbreaking shuddering breath and dodges the question??? again, congruent with a reading where he is getting back with his ex out of intense depressed person logic but not remotely squarable with “and then he dies emotionally resolved”??? what are you trying to communicate to us insane writers/brilliant actor jason ralph i DON’T UNDERSTAND

-everyone else TELLING quentin he still loves fillory… let my son whomst is about to die have agency to define his own fucking feelings!!!!! also, bonus bananas reason to sideline margo with babysitting fish josh: of all the characters on this dumb show i think she is like fully the only one we could argue still loves fillory!!!

-there is so much wasted potential in the monster… honestly i can’t even go there in delineating all of it. so much evocative shit is thrown out (and hale appleman gives such a weird fun sad gross strange complicated performance) and then nothing ever means anything.

-again: there’s ALMOST something great in the idea alice and quentin toss back and forth that growing up doesn’t have to mean discarding everything about who you were before. there’s ALMOST an idea there which circles all the way back to the very first episode of the show, where quentin decides that his problem is not that he is depressed and sad and scared but that he needs to grow up and grow out of the person that he is. but what is the show trying to say in having his girlfriend from 3 years ago tell him this? why, again, if their rekindled relationship is supposed to be legible as real, does he spend the entire interaction looking like he wants to, uh, die? WHY does the show have alice echo back to quentin a sentiment about himself (that it’s beautiful that he really believes in things) that was last heard FROM MARGO, RIGHT BEFORE QUENTIN BLEW UP HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH ALICE BY HOOKING UP WITH HER?

-why… would you have… your beautiful sad depresso bean… express out loud the sentence, “if this couldn’t make me happy, then what would?”... and then kill him 40 minutes later and try to swear up and down these two things are unconnected. why. why would you have this moment of the despair of confronting the fundamental randomness of the universe, of being forced to abandon the quest to find meaning outside yourself, and follow that up with, um, literally anything other than the realization that meaning comes from within, can only be determined by the self, etc. why is that not the particular strain of wisdom quentin has spent four years building towards? especially given the occasional glimpses of it he’s previously had? (sometimes it is good merely to eat bacon and touch hands; the fuckin mosaic timeline) why don’t we go from the idea of fillory saved my life to my own capacity for belief saved my life, i saved my own fucking life, that’s a goddamn power i can take with me anywhere? or like, EVEN the fact that the fillory-flower decides that loving the idea of fillory IS enough, there’s… places to go with that, with the idea that things are what we make of them, we are the ones who make things matter or not… but no. now we can drink magic kool-aid and die stupidly. that’s the payoff.

-jason ralph of course acts the absolute shit out of this scene which makes it even more insulting!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! how dare you use his beautiful face, the most expressive face in the history of faces, to go there!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-i cannot believe there is so much bad television still to go after this

-do they have penny23 state out loud “it should be her choice” to make it feel like it’s okay for him to then go and make that choice?

-kady stating out loud that all she wanted to be penny’s girlfriend is… one of the most hateful things i have ever seen on television

-the fact that margo is in the mood for making out while things are at a critical point in Operation Save Eliot… hateful!

-julia immediately backing down from “fuck you for ending the 5 minutes of bodily autonomy i get every season” to “let me make moon-eyes at you”... H A T E F U L

-IN GENERAL, the hideousness with which every single fucking female main is treated in these two episodes is loathsome because it has forced me to finally understand the goddamn g*me of thr*nes people… for years i watched them be like, “yes, very much rape all the time, but sansa is so hardcore!” and just shook my head pityingly… but i too was fooled. i too was fucking bamboozled into genuinely loving 4 imaginary women that the show refuses to grant bodily autonomy or basic dignity or full personhood. sorry sansa people. i judged you too harshly this whole time.

-i mostly don’t hate josh or margo/josh but josh explaining to quentin why margo is mad makes me want to commit an act of physical violence

-there is SOME OTHER UNIVERSE with SOME OTHER SEASON 4 where the finale culminating in a celebration of the power of collaborative magic is very interesting and moving and thematically relevant. i would have LOVED to watch that season.

-why do we get to see the monster appreciating the beauty of the world 30 seconds before he dies? what is the point of this, other than to taunt us about what the monster could have been?

-everyone has said this 500 times but i will say it a 501st: it is literally unbelievable that quentin betrays no reaction whatsoever to eliot being monster-free.

-why the fuck is the scene in the seam staged the way it is!!! why does quentin take 800 years to throw the fucking bottles in!!!! why does his death look like a music video from 2004.

-to identify quentin as having the most beautiful and thematically lovely discipline possible and then two episodes later turn it into a snappy one-liner to usher in the worst thing i’ve ever seen on a television program…. haaaaaaaaate

-i can’t even be coherent about this scene between quentin and pod person penny except to REITERATE that it should be ILLEGAL for someone to give a performance THIS GOOD for writing THIS BAD

-wait i do have one thing to say which is re: “then i found brakebills, and all that went away” - enraging to me personally BECAUSE: the exact moment i fell in love with this dumb show was the closing of season 1, episode 6, the secrets magic in the trials, the moment the show careened away from the narrative it had been selling apparently straightforwardly for its first half-season - that quentin was only sad and sick because he didn’t know who he was, that after all his pain came from in fact being from secretly more special than everyone else - by laying out bare what was very, very evident in quentin’s actual behavior and temperament, which was that in fact brakebills hadn’t fixed him, in fact he had come to brakebills and remained exactly who he was, “this person that i fucking hate.” that was so true, and wise, and real, and felt like something really special that i hadn’t ever seen articulated quite so clearly and poignantly. so… to directly contradict that amazing moment of self-awareness and honesty and vulnerability… HATE

-not even gonna talk about this dumb fire scene except that scoring it to a song that includes the line “slowly learning that life is okay” is very very evil

-and, once again, julia echoing quentin’s card trick from the pilot could be really beautiful… in literally any other fucking context!!!!!!!!!!!!!

-in conclusion: HATE

#the magicians #the magicians negative #? is that the fandom etiquette... it's been a while

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project-ohagi · 4 years

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Keigo Takami ღ Hawks x Reader {Greek Mythology AU}

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Being celebrated as the town's best blacksmith and master-craftsman, you had many opportunities to provide exquisite items for the royal household. You lived within the boundaries of King Enji Todoroki's castle, and you knew the inhabitants quite well. Their splendid, sharp and practical weapons were fashioned in your very forge, and seeing the guards carrying them down the labyrinthine hallways of the castle filled you with a sense of pride. The furniture, often wooden and antique, with exotic designs that no other craftsman in the realm could ever replicate, received compliments not only from the king's subjects, but the foreign ambassadors, who proceeded to inform their employers of the magnificent works. You had big dreams and a means to achieve them.

You wandered the corridors of the castle, glancing at the hand-brewed lanterns littering the walls, illuminating the red and brown bricks. Their flames flickered like the tongues of dragons - a reliable source had once told you that the king himself reared these beautiful, dangerous beasts, although you had never seen them personally. The claim went invalidated, but your songbird was a lovely girl, very gentle and trustworthy. She possessed a meagre level of magic, which impressed you to no end. She slurred potions around and carried leaves of fern and belladonna wherever she travelled. Her companions were extraordinary, as well, and you often saw them as they graced the grasses of your small town. There was a boy with stunning verdant hair and a penchant for crying, plus a knight from the land controlled by King Toshinori Yagi. He had always been lax with the laws, and there was barely ever any crime, so the castle wouldn't suffer from having one less guard.

A pleasant humming sound drifted from your lips, echoing along the walls, making it seem as though someone was tailing you. Your (e/c) eyes fluttered shut as you allowed the crackling of the small flames to guide you safely on the path. Through the flesh of your eyelids, you could see the faint glow of fire beginning to dwindle. Ceasing any movement, you cracked open both eyes and resolved to find the problem. These lanterns had been imbued with the Eternal Flame, so it was (supposedly) unheard of for them to die out. It wasn't just one, either - as your gaze lingered on the husks of your lanterns, you noticed their light slowly diminishing, until all that remained was darkness.

You shivered, the lack of warmth enabling a frigid breeze to waft over you, like a bad dream.

"Whoa, who burned out all the lanterns?" A voice called, cheery amidst the dire circumstances.

That wasn't the only issue, however. This was a strange sound, a foreign one, and you knew all the sounds of this castle. You could pick people and objects apart by noise alone, and yet this was a trial your ears could not overcome. Another thing - you hadn't even realised there was someone else in the corridor with you. The earlier humming was a sound you only made when absolutely comfortable, usually while tinkering in your little shop. You were at home around the lanterns you had manufactured yourself. Yet, they died out. Every. Last. One. You didn't design things to fail. That was the first rule of the trade, and until now, you had sworn by it.

You decided to try this stranger. "I'm not quite sure. They weren't supposed to do that, and no-one else was here."

"Well then," His bones made a clicking sound, as if he was stretching. "It must have been you, or me, but I guess we'll never know."

The arrogance lacing his tone did tick you off slightly, but you had to sigh at his words. "Impossible." You muttered, almost condescendingly.

"I was specifically entrusted to fashion lanterns that would never die."

Your last sentence was likely whispered, but it still reached your accomplice's ears. Probably because he had elected to stand right behind you, which startled you out of your skin when he started talking again. Apparently, he was the king's jester or some other such nonsense. He must have been - no other sane person would dare disrespect the greatest figures of modern times (you thought quite highly of yourself, if that's not already evident).

Whistling, he asked, "Wooow, you made these? No wonder they burned out so fast. What did you make them out of? Wood and wax?"

You huffed indignantly, trying not to rise to his taunts. "It's impossible that they all went out. One or two, perhaps I could find fault in, but all of them? What magic is this?"

"The black kind?" The stranger offered, unhelpfully. "Don't get me wrong, they looked nice - so do you, by the way - but maybe you're not as great as you think, princess."

You searched for him in the dark, but that turned up nothing. "Please don't call me that. My name is (Y/n) (L/n). I'm the town's main blacksmith and craftsman - I know what I'm doing, and if I say this isn't normal, I would like to be believed. What is your name, anyway? I don't feel like calling you 'stranger' forever."

There was a pause and a near-incoherent sound, the he spoke. "I go by Hawks, beautiful, and you didn't call me 'stranger', unless you were thinking about me? Aww, I wonder why I haven't seen you before?"

You sighed. "Honestly, I'm not sure you can see me now."

"Haha, you're right! Well, gotta find some light, I suppose. Which way to safety...?" You heard his light footfalls, followed by a muffled cry.

"That would be the wall." You muttered, astounded by the apparent stupidity of this man.

He said nothing, but continued onwards. After a few moments, a warm hand moved to cradle yours, and he pulled you alongside him. You wanted to protest, but decided against it. You would get nowhere with trivial arguments. The corridor twisted and turned, and you suddenly remembered that one section leading off from it was restricted, but you wouldn't be able to see it in complete darkness. This did worry you slightly, but instead of vocalising your discomfort, you just squeezed Hawks' hand tighter. With him as delegated leader, he bumped into a few more walls on the way out. It seemed that, like you, he hadn't been expecting the lanterns to burn out as easily as they did. When you appeared to have reached a crossroads, he stopped. It was so abrupt that you actually slammed into his back. Trickles of hair brushed against your forehead, and you realised that you were probably just a fraction taller than him. At least this gave you one advantage. He could have his jokes and flirtatious words, but you had your trade and your height.

"Ahh..." He chuckled, a tone of uncertainty present in his voice.

"What's going on? Why did you stop?" You questioned, getting kind of annoyed with this guy.

He glanced around, but saw nothing, obviously. "I might have gone the wrong way?"

"You what?!" You yelled. "We have no light source, and now no sense of direction? Oh, more black magic..."

"It'll probably be fine." He responded, once more sounding as though he commanded some divine wisdom.

His one free hand traced the wall, and just as you were pondering whether to give him two free hands, a noise of acknowledgement erupted from his throat. You supposed that meant he knew where you were, but could he really tell from touch alone? It was likely a ploy, although it did something to calm your throbbing heart. He re-established his pace, dragging you in tow. He made a degree of small talk along the way, but it was drowned out by all the thoughts swimming in your head. His palm was dangerously hot, like an oven, yet you were finding it impossible to let go. It was the kind of heat source your body craved, although you weren't entirely sure why.

Suddenly, an ear-splitting screech began to resonate like a gong, and before you had chance to ask what the hell was happening, you were tugged through the wooden frame of a door. It closed as soon as you stepped into the bright, blinding light. After all that darkness, this seemed like Hell. At least for the first few minutes. Once your eyes managed to adjust, you peered through heavy eyelids, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man calling himself 'Hawks'.

He was absolutely gorgeous.

Those tussles of hair that had previously ghosted your forehead turned out to be feathery and ash-blonde in colour. A small amount of stubble hung from his chin, and as he yawned, you saw perfect, snowy-white teeth. When he noticed the starstruck expression on your face, he grinned, the corners of his lips moving upwards. You blushed - even his cocky smile was breath-taking. He had the most awe-inspiring, chocolate-brown eyes, that twinkled in the glinting candlelight. His fluffy eyebrows made your heart weep, and the formation of those black triangles below his tear ducts reminded you of a bird. His peasant clothes were nothing to write home about, but the way he wore them certainly was. He somehow made them look more appealing and seductive than they should have been, yet you couldn't put a finger on the reason. An onyx, stud-shaped earring adorned both ears. He must have been a similar age to you - around 22 - and you wondered if he would consent to court someone so soon after meeting them. Despite his frankly irritating nature, he made your heart sing, and you instantly knew that you needed to be with him.

"Too hot for you, princess?" He smirked, arrogantly.

You flushed. "S-Sort of."

Adding moisture to his lips, he retorted, "Well, you're pretty sexy yourself, Miss."

After this comment, you immediately retracted your gaze, opting to look around the room instead. "W-Where are we, anyway?" You asked, a little confused.

"My bedchambers." He replied, laughing at your face, which was now stained red.

"W-Why am I here??"

He shrugged. "You followed me, dollface."

"You dragged me!"

In a district far removed from the prying eyes of royal sentries, a hoard of villainous men and women alike resided. Their sanctuary had been built in haste, as their ancestors needed a safeguard, away from anyone who might wish to hurt them. Those people, namely the kings Enji Todoroki and Toshinori Yagi, were fierce yet kind rulers, protecting their realms while simultaneously warding away the evil that lurked around the bend. Although their relationship was strained, the kings banded together for the greater good, and finally succeeded in expelling the tyrants. However, nothing was ever so simple - spies had been recruited and placed around the perimeter of the realms. They often caught wind of conspiracies, and would venture into the twisting labyrinth of a wasteland where they were never supposed to find. The mice frequently managed safe journeys, but the grand dictator, All For One, had abilities that far exceeded those of any normal human; he could hear their footsteps, smell their shallow breaths, feel those tell-tale vibrations in the air. There was never any privacy in his castle, and certainly no safety.

If he sought after your head, he would receive it. However, unlike what the rumours suggested, he never abused this power, instead deciding to reserve it for the serious threats. There was no point waging war against the kings without sufficient battle tactics, and All For One remained wounded from his encounter with the stronger of the two: King Toshinori Yagi.

"What shall we do with him, master?" A raspy voice called out, partially muffled by the detachable hand covering his face.

The large, shadowy figure he addressed reclined in his throne, looking upwards and intertwining his fingers, as if contemplating the question. This was all pretence - he had already begun putting the plan in motion, after all. To ease his pupil's mind, he replied, "Bring him in. Question him. Torture him if you have to. If he has valuable information, let him live. If he refuses to speak in three days' time, execute him."

"As you wish."

Messy blue hair whipped in all directions as he signalled for a few of the people in the room. They followed his lead, heading out of the double doors and down the nearest hallway. With him, there walked a tall, lean individual with an ebony mane and oddly-symmetrical burn marks, the skin purple and wrinkling. It was held together crudely by metal hoop piercings. Beside him, a smartly-dressed man with wisps of purple and black mist in place of a body, and a young, blonde girl with a Cheshire-Cat grin. These were apparently the people for the job. In this world of tricks and magic, these four were the ringmasters, controlling the rest of the troupe with strings of steel.

"Who do we get to kill this time??" The girl asked, almost drooling in anticipation of the hunt.

"You heard what master said." Came the agitated response. "We capture him and try to get what we need. If he manages to stay sane for three days, then you can have your fun."

The patchwork zombie spoke next. "How are we doing this, then? We can't storm Enji Todoroki's castle."

As his words echoed around the walls, a swirling vortex appeared, growing bigger and bigger until it could allow for all four to plunge into the blackness. Two, however, were commanded to hold back - the girl and the man with purple patches of flesh. The warp gate closed as soon as the others stepped through.

The hunters were on the prowl.

"Ah...don't be shy. Admit it - you wanted to spend the night with me." Hawks gifted you a wink, both flirtatious and amused.

He must have been savouring your embarrassment. "I can't admit what isn't true." You glanced towards one of the massive, stained-glass windows lining the nearby wall. Although it was difficult to see, you determined that it was indeed night-time. How had you spent so long in the castle? You could have sworn it was early afternoon when you arrived, and you shouldn't have been there for more than a few hours. Your detour with this cocksure fairy didn't feel as though it had taken any more than half an hour. Perhaps that was just because your brain was preoccupied, enjoying the company it was in. "I should leave now. It's late, and my shop needs guarding."

"Haven't you fashioned some defence system? Surely (Y/n) (L/n), the oh-so-talented master-craftsman would be prepared for everything?" He taunted, clearly trying to back you into a corner.

"I'm afraid I can entertain you no longer, jester. I need to leave. Something strange is happening - can't you sense it? Those lanterns were my inventions, and I need to figure out why they died." Turning on your heel, you began to walk away from the blonde-locked man and his mahogany door.

However, his laugh stopped you in your tracks. "I guess I do act like a jester, don't I?"

Mysteriously, like smoke, his voice soon trailed off. You couldn't even begin to comprehend how such a flashy, boisterous person would all of a sudden go completely quiet. It wasn't just that - you couldn't hear anything but the ear-splitting silence, like static running through your veins. The walls weren't moaning, the floor wasn't creaking, and nobody seemed to be breathing. There were no sounds. None at all. It was as if Hawks, along with the very castle, knew something you didn't, but their lips were sewn shut. You wondered if the walls would collapse around you, burying you alive, or maybe the ghosts of Enji Todoroki's victims would seek revenge, but instead attach themselves to and haunt you until the end of your days.

"What-" You tried to break the ice that had settled like stalactites on the ceiling, but felt as though a veil was slowly being wrapped around your neck, preventing any more words from reaching the surface.

Suddenly, hands as warm as a furnace grasped your ice-cold ones and dragged you through the door. When you looked at him, you saw that his face held a serious expression. He definitely knew something - something bad. You wanted to ask, but couldn't quite find the words to do so. Stepping through the door felt weird, as if your feet weren't touching wood, but rather something less material. You squeezed your eyes shut tightly, opting to trust the man you had only recently met. After a few seconds, he tumbled on to a hard surface and, still being hand-in-hand, your body crashed into his. His head slammed into the brick, eliciting a faint, pained noise. Truth be told, he was in a lot of pain, but he didn't want you to have any anxieties about the situation, so he refrained from screaming. That was so much worse than stubbing your toe.

"You were surprisingly easy to catch, despite your profession. I did not expect you to have an accomplice, however. She could prove to be troublesome." The voice resonated in your ears painfully, like white noise.

"She's not an accomplice. I met her about two minutes ago - she looked lost, so I was just pointing her in the right direction." Hawks drew out the lie, allowing more time to think of an escape.

Whoever else was out there laughed. "We have orders, Hawks. You have been flying too close to the sun for a long time, and now it is your time to fall."

"So, what's the plan?" Hawks breathed, sparing a side-glance at your trembling figure. "Are you gonna put me in chains, lock me in the dungeons? You do have dungeons, right? I mean, this place is massive, and pretty much a castle."

"This place," The voice began. "Is a labyrinth."

You tugged at Hawks' sleeve. "What are you doing? Are you trying to get us killed??" You whisper-yelled, both furious with and concerned for the man.

"Out of tricks? That's such a shame. To answer your question: we will lock you in one of the many chambers within this labyrinth. There are so many corridors, that even if you were to escape from your cell, you would never reach the surface."

The air swirled in front of you, a mixture of black and purple. Two legs protruded from within, followed closely by a slim body, clad in a suit. Behind this imposing figure, another man stepped out of the darkness. He was dressed far lighter than the former, in only an onyx shirt, baggy trousers and slip-on shoes. You didn't recognise either of these men, given that you mostly stayed in your small town, never straying further than the treeline of the surrounding forest. Despite this, it was easy to reckon that they were the rumoured tyrants. At least, two of them. That thought made your hair stand on end, as though it had been exposed to a great deal of static electricity - what if there were more, hiding in the black void, ready to pounce at any moment? As if sensing your fear, one of the men (the one who seemed as if he might tend to a bar in his off-time), turned to address you.

"Miss, if you comply, then nothing shall be done to cause you harm." His tone was polite, but by that time, you had already chosen your side. You would remain with the person who had stolen your heart in a matter of minutes, with his witty, mischievous nature, and how he laughed in the face of danger, just to keep you safe.

So, although it might have been reason enough for your head to roll, you showed a level of defiance that they weren't expecting. The other man, whose voice was a lot more sickening, muttered something you couldn't hear, scratching his neck as he did so. His partner in crime seemed to sigh (though, with him having no discernible mouth, it was hard to tell), but elected against opposing his superior. The orders had already been given, after all, and any accomplice of the target must suffer the same, horrendous fate as him. You never knew what such seemingly innocent people could be hiding. Before he was grabbed, Hawks made an attempt to snare one of the stray knifes littered on the ground. His enemies noticed the plot, however, and ensured it wasn't followed through. A set of calloused hands gripped your neck and waist, hoisting you up on to your feet. You lashed out, but the hand around your neck clamped down harder, making you choke. You were gradually running out of oxygen. Soon, you couldn't handle the strain of fighting, and your body went limp, slumping against the blue-haired man. It was uncomfortable, but your vision was dimming, just like your lanterns back in the castle of Enji Todoroki. Just before you blacked out, you made the connection - they had been responsible for your burnt-out lights.

A spellbinding sight awaited your tired eyes - the walls were covered in ancient carvings, spiral-designs and other such patterns. You, alongside your companion, were confined in a large room, with no obvious doors or windows. You attempted to move, and although you had no bindings, your muscles were stiff. Almost immediately, your mind went into overdrive, trying to work out a viable escape plan. You could always create something to break through the wall, but you weren't sure how deep the labyrinth ran, and it seemed appropriate to assume that you would be easily captured. Raising a hand to your mouth, you began muttering to yourself, slowly piecing together a picture of what you were going to do. You needed to be extremely careful, as there were two lives on the line. If you were discovered mid-escape, it was likely that you would be executed, since you doubted Hawks had the skills required to take flight.

"...Flight! That's it!" You silently praised your ingenuity, glancing around to see if there was anything that could be of use. "Alright...I need the framework, and then something to hold them together. The shape needs to be perfect, for the air to pass over..."

Whilst in the midst of your mutterings, Hawks awoke and contemplated his situation. Then, he noticed you had been shoved into the same cell as him. An unfamiliar feeling welled up inside his chest, tugging at his heartstrings. It was a concoction of guilt, dread, love and sadness. You appeared to be working on something, kneeling in the dirt and presiding over your art. He stood with much effort, and he thought for a moment that his legs might have been broken. He managed to hobble over to where you were stationed, giving him a better view of whatever you were trying so desperately to complete. Your hands were moving rapidly, not letting him concentrate for very long. One minute, they just looked like smashed pieces of wood, but the next, they had a proper form.

"They'd be great if we could actually get out. Did you think about that, princess?" He had been in the labyrinth before, and knew just how tricky it was to navigate - it was meant to gradually drain your sanity, and make you compliant. If that didn't work, there was always good old-fashioned torture.

You responded after a few beats of silence. "You can do something about that, then. We'll need quite a large hole, or else these things won't get through."

Hawks smirked. "You're trying to get out? Bold of you to assume you can."

"Bold of you to suggest I can't." You countered, adding the finishing touches to your work. "Okay, now listen carefully - I managed to sculpt these out of scraps of wood, and I melted the wax from those candles." You pointed to them. "They will hold long enough to get us back to the realm of Enji Todoroki, but you cannot, under any circumstance, get caught in the heat of the sun. If you do, not only will you have wasted one of my creations, but you will plummet to your death. do you understand?"

There was a mischievous glint in his chocolate orbs. "You'd make a good gypsy, y'know."

You masked your smile behind irritation. "Do you understand?"

"Oh, completely. I just have to stay away from the sun, right?" He nodded.

"Correct." You released a breath you didn't know you had been holding; this man was going to be the death of you. A speck of silver flashed in your peripheral vision, and you directed your gaze accordingly. "Why would someone leave a hammer...?" You mumbled, confused.

Hawks hummed, then looked towards the object. "Well, seems like you've found our way out."

Stepping forwards without hesitation, he picked it up and did an initial, experimental swing. It collided with the wall of the labyrinth, severing the carvings and creating a small dent. His lips twitched upwards, and he held the hammer more firmly in his hands. He swung it again and again, shattering the wall almost entirely. To your surprise, it gave way to blinding sunlight and lush green land. Your mouth fell agape - both of you had been anticipating another layer of the winding entanglement. Nodding once to yourself, you handed a pair of wooden wings over to your accomplice, reminding him of your prior warning. Clasping your own tightly on to your person, you stood on the edge, looking down. You heard an awkward gulp from beside you - Hawks must have been nervous. Just before you were about to soar to freedom, a portal, black and purple, fissured a section of previously untouched wall. Two figures began marching into the frame.

You didn't give Hawks any time to think. With a hand on the wings, you propelled him forwards. You jumped out of the labyrinth after a few seconds, tailing closely behind Hawks, who was flapping his newly-acquired wings rather awkwardly. Although you detested the idea, you spared a brief glance back to your prison, seeing those two men standing among the ashes of the wall. Their faces displayed not anger, as you expected, but glee. Disturbed, you averted your eyes. They would not silence you. The people of your town would indeed hear your voice again, purchase your goods and request specific items. You would not be trapped.

Never again.

"Hawks, are you doing okay? Remember you need to move them yourself - just like a bird." You called, swooping past the blonde-haired man. An ecstasy-streaked expression had appeared on his face. You had to smile at this.

"This feels amazing! Damn, you really are good at making things. When we get back, could you jazz these up a bit for me?" He glided in the air, riding the wind, the breeze fluffing up his hair.

Below, a vast expanse of sea stretched out, going for miles and miles. You wanted to fly down, gently touching the surface with your feet, and making it look as though you were walking on water. Your eyelids flickered shut as you relished in Gaia's soft breaths. The clouds slowly ghosted past you. By the time you opened your eyes, it was far too late. Savouring the sweet taste of fresh air, like a starved child, Hawks had been consumed by a false sense of security. He neglected to recall your warning. The bright rays of the sun beamed down on his figure, washing an unpleasant heat over him. The wax which held his wooden wings together began to drip, raining down on the surface of the ocean like snowflakes. Soon, fractures started to show in the wood. You wanted to scream at him for being so idiotic. Instead, you dove towards the falling form. You missed by a millisecond. Speed was quickly becoming an issue, but you continued descending, reaching out a hand in the hopes that he would grab it. His arms and legs were flailing, and he couldn't seem to stay still for long enough. The water was luring him closer and closer.

In one last ditch effort, you howled out his name. "Hawks!"

His body met the blue liquid, and he was dragged down further, as if compelled by a magnet.

You caressed the water, watching and waiting for any sign of him. Tears were clouding your vision, cascading down your cheeks and eventually dripping down, into the sea. You didn't know if they would ever reach him, but you whispered a few words, distorted by sobs.

"...I warned you..."

[Word Count: 4779]

#hawks #bnha hawks #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero imagines #greek myth retellings #icarus

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acephysicskarkat · 5 years

Text

2018: A RETROSPECTIVE IN FUCKERY

SO. 2018 IS ALMOST OVER, AND I THINK WE CAN ALL AGREE THAT IT WAS A WEIRD FUCKING GARBAGE FIRE OF A YEAR.

HERE’S A RETROSPECTIVE OF SOME OF THE WEIRDEST, DUMBEST FLAMES!

RACE TO THE BOTTOM: AUSTRALIAN CONSERVATISM’S LEGITIMACY CRISIS

2018 HAS BEEN A MEMORABLY BAD YEAR FOR THE CONSERVATIVE SIDE OF AUSTRALIAN POLITICS, DUE TO A SEEMINGLY ENDLESS STRING OF TERRIBLE DECISIONS. WHETHER IT WAS FRASER ANNING OPTING TO DEPLOY A FINAL SOLUTION LINE IN HIS INTRODUCTORY SPEECH, PAULINE HANSON’S DESPERATE ATTEMPT TO PANDER TO WHITE NATIONALISTS WITH A DUMBFUCK “OK TO BE WHITE” MOTION, FORMER PRIME MINISTERIAL HOPEFUL MARK LATHAM JOINING UP WITH PAULINE HANSON AND STANDING HER UP ON TV ALMOST IMMEDIATELY, NAZIS GETTING CAUGHT JOINING THE YOUNG NATIONALS EN MASSE, OR A SITTING POLITICIAN BEING CAUGHT LOOKING FOR LOVE ON A SUGAR DADDY WEBSITE, THE AUSTRALIAN POLITICAL SITUATION WAS NOTABLE FOR A SEEMINGLY ENDLESS CAVALCADE OF BAFFLING WEIRD SHIT FROM PROUDLY INCOHERENT BUFFOONS.

HOWEVER, THE GRAND PRIZE FOR THE MOST CLUELESS FUCKHEAD IN AUSTRALIAN POLITICS HAS TO GO TO PETER “THE POTATO” DUTTON, A WEIRD FASCIST WITH POSSIBLY NEGATIVE CHARISMA AND AN OPEN HOSTILITY TO DEMOCRACY. THE POTATO’S RECKLESS AMBITION LED TO THE OVERTHROW OF NOTORIOUSLY SPINELESS SITTING PRIME MINISTER MALCOLM TURNBULL, BUT HIS INABILITY TO COUNT AND INEPT USE OF BULLYING TACTICS LED TO HIM FAILING TO CAPITALISE ON IT, AND THE TOP SPOT BEING TAKEN BY THE NOTORIOUS HOMOPHOBE AND USELESS TRUMP WANNABE, SCOTT “COALFUCKER” MORRISON. THE GOVERNING PARTY HAS SEEN A ROBUST DEFEAT IN MOST OF THE ELECTIONS THAT HAVE BEEN HELD SINCE, AND ARE CURRENTLY LESS POPULAR THAN BULL ANTS WITH THE ELECTORATE, WITH A MANDATORY ELECTION EARLY NEXT YEAR.

BREXITICAL FAILURE: INCOMPETENCE IN THE UK

LITERALLY EVERYTHING TO DO WITH THE CONCEPTION AND EXECUTION OF BREXIT HAS BEEN A FARCE CARRIED OUT BY GIBBERING IMBECILES, AND WITH 2018 BEING THE YEAR WHEN PEOPLE BEGAN PREPARING FOOD PARCELS TO SEND TO POST-BREXIT UK (POSSIBLY IN EXCHANGE FOR NIGEL FARAGE’S HEAD ON A PLATTER), IT’S SAFE TO SAY 2018 WAS NOT AN EXCEPTION TO THAT. AS FOR THERESA MAY, AT THIS POINT, I WOULDN’T BE SURPRISED TO LEARN THAT SHE’D FOUND A LOOKALIKE TO TAKE HER PLACE AND RUN OFF TO A TROPICAL ISLAND SOMEWHERE.

DON’T WANNA BE AN AMERICAN IDIOT: PRESIDENT INDIVIDUAL-1

OF COURSE DONALD TRUMP WAS GOING TO HAVE A BAD YEAR. BETWEEN MIDTERMS THAT ENDED IN AN UNSURPRISING LOSS OF CONGRESS AND THE MUELLER INVESTIGATION CAREFULLY PREPARING A CAGE TO PUT HIM IN, DONALD HAS HAD A ROUGH TIME OF IT, AND I FIND I CAN BEAR HIS MISERY WITH TREMENDOUS FORTITUDE. NOT TO MENTION THAT HIS LEGACY IS ALWAYS GOING TO BE “THE PRESIDENT WHO PUT CHILDREN IN CAGES”.

HOWEVER, MOST OF MY READERS ARE AMERICAN, AND MOST AMERICANS ALREADY KNOW THIS, SO LET’S MOVE ON.

HIGH ACHIEVER: THE LIFE AND GRIMES OF ELON MUSK

IN CASE YOU WERE UPSET ABOUT ME TAKING A MALLET TO VARIOUS CLUELESS GOVERNMENTS, DON’T WORRY, I TARGET SUFFICIENTLY CHOWDERHEADED INDIVIDUALS AND CORPORATIONS TOO. 2018 HAS BEEN THE YEAR OF ELON MUSK FAILING. HE MANAGED TO MISHANDLE A HUMANITARIAN EFFORT SO BADLY THAT HE ENDED UP SUED FOR LIBEL, HE MADE THE MOST EXPENSIVE WEED JOKE IN HUMAN HISTORY, HE BECAME A LAUGHINGSTOCK TO EVERYONE BUT THE WEIRD STANS WHO WRITE OVER THE HUMAN THAT EXISTS IN FAVOUR OF THEIR IDEALISED TECHBRO HERO, AND NOW HE’S INVENTED A THING THAT’S LIKE A SUBWAY, IF SUBWAYS REALLY, REALLY SUCKED.

BUT HEY, HE GOT A GAME INVENTED SPECIFICALLY TO LAMPOON HIM, SO...THERE’S THAT.

WE EAT BLOOD AND ALL OUR FRIENDS HAVE STOPPED ANSWERING OUR PHONE CALLS: THE NEW WHITE WOLF DEBACLE

MORE OF A 2017-2018 SEQUENCE OF PRATFALLS, BUT THE ATTEMPT BY PARADOX INTERACTIVE TO RESURRECT WHITE WOLF PUBLISHING HAS BEEN NOTABLE FOR PROVING THAT EVEN IF PEOPLE LIKE YOUR GAME, IT IS STILL POSSIBLE TO FUCK IT UP CATASTROPHICALLY. STILL, THEY HAD MANAGED TO RIDE OUT THE TIME THEY HIRED A SERIAL HARASSER TO WRITE A PHONE GAME FOR THEM, THE TIME THEY RELEASED A SHITTY FUCKING ALPHA TEST, AND AN AVERAGE OF ONE FORMAL APOLOGY PER BOOK RELEASE, UP UNTIL THEY RAN OUT OF ROPE.

IN THIS CASE, THE STRAW THAT TURNED THE CAMEL’S BACK INTO A PARTICULARLY UNPLEASANT EXAMPLE OF VICISSITUDE WAS THAT FUCKING CHECHNYA CHAPTER, WHICH ENDED UP BEING BLUNTLY EXCISED FROM THE BOOK BECAUSE IT PORTRAYED THE INEXCUSABLE ACTIONS OF THE CHECHEN GOVERNMENT AS SOME SORT OF VAMPIRE FALSE FLAG ROUTINE. THIS NOT ONLY PISSED OFF A LOT OF PEOPLE, BUT MANAGED TO CAUSE AN INTERNATIONAL INCIDENT IN THE PROCESS, AND GOT THE CHAPTER IMMEDIATELY EXCISED WITH A RUSTY KNIFE, FOLLOWED BY PARADOX RUSHING OUT AN ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT HOW THEY WERE REORGANISING THE COMPANY (PROBABLY IN THE WORKS FOR A WHILE, TO BE FAIR).

2018: A YEAR OF WEIRD, NONSENSICAL SHIT. LET’S HOPE THAT 2019 IS BETTER, BUT EVEN IF IT ISN’T BETTER, THAT IT AT LEAST MAKES MORE GODDAMN SENSE.

#POLITICS

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derangedroyalfae · 5 years

Text

May 27, 2019 3:20PM

I was feeling lonely and suffocated. I had just been around people, but it was probably what made the loneliness worse. When the people you’re with don’t make you feel included or like you don’t connect with them. Besides, I hardly consider drunk people as people worth having conversations with. They’re incoherent and random, filterless and unaware.

Last night, sometime in the evening while light was still out, I thought I would hang out with my family for a little in the hot tub. They’re always inviting me and I’m usually declining, so I thought maybe I would give them some time (even if I was invited this time around). I planned on sitting in the hot tub for only a little while, going inside to eat dinner, and then cleaning the house as a surprise birthday gift for my ma since it’s her birthday today. Immediately upon coming out, Bunny and my ma were elated, my ma especially, and ushered me in, invasively grabbing me and hugging me as soon as they could and spouting random nonsense. It didn’t take me long to realize these two blonde women were fucking drunk. My dad was out there too and the entire time I was out there, he was either being affectionate with his wife, or like me, trying to dodge being in the middle of the cat fights. My ma and sister had kept playfully getting at each other’s throat, a whole “I’ll throw you in if you to the pool if piss me off” mentality but in a jesting way. Haphazardly they’d slap at each other’s breast and get in each other’s face and have conversations posing as arguments that hadn’t needed to be a thing. At one point, they tried talking about how men don’t understand what it’s like having periods/ovaries, and at the same, women don’t understand having testicles (to which my tranny-ass was tempted to say something, but that’s just the exception, not the rule, right?) and around that point I was not wanting to put my hunger off any longer and decided to go in. When I started to leave, they were upset and asking me to stay, to which I responded I was hungry so they ushered me to bring my food out. They also insisted this was a good conversation for me to listen to. …THIS IS LITERALLY WHAT I STUDY: sex and gender. This is a MAJORITY of my conversations at school, maybe not only specifically those sex organs, but it’s the same topic. Besides, I would be fine having that conversation if it wasn’t sloppy-ass drunk people who were more rambling than conversing. I wasn’t having fun anyway.

Around 8PM is when I finally got inside the house to eat. While I was eating, I began making preparations for cleaning and mixed a pre-made salad for my ma since she asked me. My dad eventually came in too and began watching things on the TV, mainly a comedy firefighter show. No one seemed to be aware of what I was doing. A couple times, my ma and Bunny came in, but they were still soaking wet and obviously didn’t even try to dry off before hand. They were mainly coming in for split moments just to get something or whatnot. They leaked all over the place, I had to use a couple of towels to dry up the floor to keep myself from slipping and falling. After a while, I finished my cleaning (dishes, vacuuming, mopping, etc) and went upstairs, debating if I should start getting ready for bed.

I went into my bathroom and immediately closed the door, locked it, and then sat in front of it. My mood was all wonked and I felt lonesome. I didn’t want to be in this household anymore. It’s not like things are terrible, it’s not really abusive (aside one family member on an emotional/mental level), but I just didn’t want to live here. But the one place I want to live, I cannot, and it’s mainly because my metamour moved in, and she’s taking it for granted. I would have been able to get over my petty jealousy if she wasn’t taking her situation, the situation I wanted (at the beginning of this semester, I was going to talk to my girlfriends about the possibility of moving in with them over summer, but then my metamour officially moved in during January/February and thus there was no space for me to as well), for granted, and in doing so, hurting our girlfriend. I’ve gotten to a point where I honestly do not like my metamour, I’m only polite and chill around her for my girlfriend’s sake. She’s rude, inconsiderate, and has no manners. I do not like her, and it’s not just the jealousy speaking. My metamour sounds as though she’s moving out soon, but it feels wrong to immediately be like “can I move in” once she leaves, as I’m sure it will be too much resemblance of her moving in and my living environment isn’t bad enough to move in. Issues with my metamour aside, on the bathroom floor, I was desperate to find someone to talk to. Neither of my girlfriends were showing to be online and neither was my best friend. Besides, I felt like talking on a phone more than anything. I hate text. It was after 10:30, so I knew Kitty would probably be awake, but Hummingbird already announced she was off to bed.

Suddenly, arguing between my family from downstairs started happening and I got nervous. At 10:39PM, I tried calling Kitty, but there was no answer (it didn’t even feel like it rang enough times). I tried making conversations with people on tinder, but kept in mind that it was getting late. At 10:42PM, I called up Hummingbird and got her on the phone for about 6min. Immediately fear and shakiness poured out of my voice when she answered. I was honest and told her what was happening, how I was lonely but something was happening downstairs. I couldn’t even pinpoint which blonde was fighting with my dad, but it was clearly one or both of the two from the hot tub and my father. I was eventually able to figure that all three were arguing, but not sure who’s side anyone was on or what the basis was. I didn’t let the conversation with Hummingbird drag on since I thought I was being paranoid and this would blow over soon and I knew she was trying to go to bed. I wished her a goodnight and hung up.

Shortly after, I saw Kitty was online, so I messaged her:

Royal (05/26 10:51 PM) Were you away from your phone? Kitty (10:51 PM) It didn't even ring? It's right next to me Hummingbird picked hers up, I heard you sounded upset What's going on? Royal (10:52 PM) Weird, I called it I don’t know I don’t know what’s going on At first I was lonely but then shit started to happen

It didn’t take long for Kitty to call me (10:53PM). She stayed on the phone with me for nearly 2hrs. Near the beginning, Hummingbird even messaged me:

Hummingbird (05/26 11:00 PM) I couldn't make out majority of what you said on the phone. If you need us we are here. Kitty is still up if you need to talk. If you need to get out, just say the word. I'm worried and I love you

Most of my phone conversation with Kitty was me relaying what was happening as it was happening. I also did let her in on my feelings of being alone. At one point, my ma tried yelling at everyone that we’re being kicked out and have 30 days to go. She then said she’d give up 60 days to be generous. My dad kept trying to reason with them but in a very argumentative and aggressive way. I found it dumb that he kept trying to make a drunk person listen and understand. I was often shaken and crying during most of it, but somewhere around the hour and half mark it was just frustrating and annoying to hear them arguing in cycles and cycles and cycles and cycles. You know what happens with you push a revolving door? It spins. They had moments where they’d go quiet and then just start back up again. My father yelled and screamed at the two of them to go, so my ma had decided to listen and told Bunny to pack up some stuff since they were going to go to a hotel. Bunny was hysterical and crying like crazy. At one point, I poked out of there and said “Please tell me neither of you are planning on driving.” Bunny immediately got on the defensive and jumped up and aggressively charged at me, screaming how I don’t even have a license and yadiyada on how I can’t say shit. My ma was fast to try and stop her and continued to usher her to get packed up. I rushed back into my bathroom as soon as I could. I of course was letting Kitty in on everything as it happened, as I was still on the phone with her at that point. It shocked me that Bear hadn’t gotten involved or that my niece didn’t have a reaction from all the yelling and screaming.

Bear at some point did finally texted, about an hour after things got heated:

Bear (05/26 11:50 PM) How are you holding up?

Royal (05/26 11:50 PM) Trying to make sure ma or Bunny don’t drunk drive

Ma said to Bunny that they’re going to a hotel

So I’m listening in

(11:56 PM) There’s a huge part of me that really wants to call 911

But I don’t know

I don’t trust them anymore

I never know when people are going to get violent or hurt themself anymore

Bear (05/27 12:02 AM) I completely understand

Kitty was able to hear a lot of the yelling and screaming over the phone, though I doubt she could make out what they were saying. I know there were lots of “I HATE YOU,” “YOU’RE THE ASSHOLE,” and like exclamations. There were several times where I was concerned by ways they were saying and reacting to stuff, like there might have been a weapon or harm of oneself involved. I remembering breaking down on a different part of my bathroom floor, crying to Kitty how I wished they would all stop hurting. How I wish my dad knew he was appreciated and no one hate him. How I wished Bunny didn’t hate herself so much she always felt under attack and the need to be on the defensive. How I wished my ma wasn’t so miserable that she felt the need to drink so much. My dad actually tried saying to my ma that if she didn’t stop drinking, he wanted a divorce. Whilst, is something I can get behind, not best to try getting a drunk person to agree with. The entire time, I kept fighting the urge to tell Kitty to come get me right that second. It wasn’t going to be easy to get out without walking past all of them. My bedroom and bathroom is the farthest point from the stair’s opening and where most of this was happening (my parent’s room, Bunny’s room hallway area, the top of the stairs) was my only route to get downstairs and outside. It sounded like my ma was determined to leave with Bunny anyway, so it felt like overreacting if I were to leave too. Kitty tried to tell me that I shouldn’t feel unsafe in my own house, to which I tried arguing back how that wasn’t what was going on. I was scared for everyone else’s safety. After someone has almost been shot, after someone broke a glass bottle with the intent of turning it into a weapon, after someone has charged my door in an argument I was no involved in, after someone has tried killing and hurting themselves on multiple occasions, after someone has threatened to hurt themself to get their way, after someone has offered the gesture of hurting themself to make a point…I just can’t trust them anymore. When things had been quiet for a good while, I finally snuck myself into my room and let Kitty go. She reassured me that she would message me on Discord right away since we were having a hard time hearing/understanding each other with bad signals on both sides.

After some time passed, she hadn’t messaged nor shown any signs of being online and I could hear my parents talking again. I pressed myself against the wall to listen and messaged her:

Royal (05/27 12:55 AM) Sounds like they’re trying again, but less aggressively

My ma is still obviously drunk

I never want to be with someone I would argue with like this

Well shit...the irony is...now that I’m in my room, I have to go pee 😶

Royal (1:10 AM) My dad’s asking my mom not to leave, I think it’s mainly cuz he knows she’s drunk

I think she’s going to go

I think she’s going to get behind a wheel when drunk

I don’t know what to do

Why didn’t my dad plea more

Sounds like Bear is now involved

I think he just went downstairs to stop her too

I’m scared

That my ma might try to harm herself should she leave

But I’m just a coward hiding in my room

I don’t know what to do

I’m going out there

By this point in time, I had texted Bear “Ma is going to drive while drunk with Bunny“ around 1:16AM and I think that’s when she got involved. I went pass Bunny and down the stairs and into a point out of view.

Kitty (1:31 AM) I don't think you're a coward, they shouldn't be making you feel this scared to be around them

Royal (1:31 AM) I AM NOT SCARED FOR MYSELF

I AM LEGIT SCARED THAT MY MOM MIGHT BE DEAD IN THE NEXT 24HRS

Kitty (1:32 AM) Understood...

Royal (1:32 AM) I’m out here to make sure she does not step foot out that door

I honestly have no clue what the hell is going on down here...

My dad is doing something with a lift thingy

Taking something outside or bringing something in

I have no clue

My mom is sitting on the couch like a pouty child

Wine bottles???

I’m at a complete lost right now

I’ll tell you one thing: I will knock my mom unconscious if that’s what it takes to keep her from drunk driving

I know she can’t out run me with her bad knee

Kitty (1:38 AM)That's probably for the best...

What about wine bottles?

Royal (1:39 AM) I don’t even know my dude...I think my dad is bringing in wine bottles from outside but I honestly don’t have a fucking clue

Kitty (1:39 AM) O.o

Royal (1:39 AM) Holy wine cellar

Wait

I think he’s taking it OUT

He got rid of the wine cellar

Or is he bringing it in? But how did it get put in the first place? It’s iron and heavy...

Wine cage, whatever you want to call it

Bunny was just sitting upstairs by the railing with her head down, but I think she came down

My niece is crying hysterically

He’s bringing it in

Kitty (1:43 AM) :/

This is just a really weird scene

Royal (1:43 AM) But it looks like it was mostly emptied

Yeah, I have no idea how to accurately describe it

No, it still has a lot of wine in it, just the top part was emptied

My niece is very unhappy

I want to go in there and hold her

Kitty (1:44 AM) With all the yelling? I bet...

Royal (1:45 AM) But there hasn’t been any yelling for nearly an hour

She only now started

It looks like he’s bringing in crates too or something

Wine crates

My niece is quiet again

Bunny is starting to cry again, silently

My niece started again too

Kitty (1:47 AM) My first thought is he's going to dump them all

Royal (1:48 AM) It’s a scenario where it seems like he’s doing something to make a point to please her

Not to made a point to spite her

Kitty (1:49 AM) Hmm..

I only figured because of the "quit drinking or divorce" line earlier

Royal (1:50 AM) He’s already apologized for saying certain stuff while angry

Mainly about “getting out”

So at least I know neither of the blondes can try to sneak out right now, the 3 ways out (not including Bear’s room) are either in my sight or right by my dad

He’s putting the wine back into the cellar, I think the top portion was missing to make it lighter and not top heavy

Looks like my mom dozed off on the couch, my dad tried waking her to asking her to go to bed

My dad went to bed

I’m going to wait it out a little

It almost seems like they might still be planning on leaving, I can’t tell

Alright, maybe not

I think my mom is getting situated on the couch to sleep

Ok, I think it’s over for real

At least for tonight

I’m in my bed again

Kitty (2:01 AM) kk

You going to be able to sleep after all that?

Royal (2:02 AM) Who knows

Luna is here though, purring loudly as she’s snuggled up to me

My little guardian angel

Sweet li’l familiar

Kitty (2:03 AM) She's a good kitty

I had fallen asleep eventually, not sure what time, and woke up several times in the morning at decent hours. But I didn’t want to get up or do anything. Part of me just wanted to sleep today away, my ma’s birthday or not (also Memorial Day).

Hummingbird also messaged me to check on me this morning:

Hummingbird (05/27 9:17 AM) How are you doing? Royal (10:58 AM) I dumbly had the notion earlier this morning to try sleeping the day away Did Kitty catch you up on everything? Hummingbird (11:00 AM) yes she did. I now I want to steal you away even more ❤ Royal (11:01 AM) It’s been quiet all morning Hummingbird (11:01 AM) I bet, especially after the events last night Royal (11:01 AM) Sorry I never responded to your messages last night, I was on the phone with Kitty Hummingbird (11:04 AM) np. I was just worried. I was worried and asked Kitty to reach out to you, hoping that she could hear better. Royal (11:05 AM) I feel like I need a “days since last incident” sign We had been doing relatively well I was at a point where I wasn’t scared for myself but everyone else And if I wasn’t there and something happened... I was physically safe But I wasn’t sure if someone would hurt themself (or stupidly do something that would hurt someone else) And my ma came very close to drunk driving Hummingbird (11:07 AM) yikes Royal (11:10 AM) Bear didn’t make any effort if anything until an hour in and it was her texting me to see how I was holding up, but then took forever to text back and when she did it was just a “I understand” in response to telling her I was contemplating calling 911, and then I think she got involved again after the 2hr mark after I told her that I thought ma was actually going to drive, but that seemed short lived anyway After everything went quiet, my niece had a reaction Hummingbird (11:22 AM) wow, that sounds intense Royal (11:22 AM) Kitty was able to actually hear the screaming and yelling at some points Hummingbird (11:27 AM) yeah, she mentioned that Royal (11:28 AM) Probably shatters the imagery of how quiet my dad is 😅 Hummingbird (11:28 AM) just a smidge

I don’t even know if Kitty and Hummingbird would want to come over today (as they were invited previously since it’s my ma’s birthday), but I don’t want to be left home alone with them but I don’t want to ditch either. I don’t know what to expect from the rest of the day. Everything is going on with my fam like none of this ever happened, as per usual.

#family drama #family #Mood #journal #mood journal #substance abuse #alcohol #alcohol abuse #drunk #emotional trauma #trauma #fear #panic #depression #support #lonely #loneliness #gray

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consilium-games · 6 years

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A Rambling and Brain-Fried Post on Hermeneutics

It's a godless and blighted hour (11AM) as I write this, and scheduling heartache has left me swirly-eyed and sleep-deprived. Lately I've absorbed a pretty specific combination of media that's led me to think dazedly about hermeneutics, basically "systems of interpretation of a work of media" such as stories. And in light of my past couple games, and a game whose premise I haven't finished chewing on, I think getting some thoughts down (and maybe even some discussion?!) might help someone. I don't know, maybe me?

Inciting Events

By now anyone reading this has heard of Undertale. Spoilers happen here. The creator of Undertale recently released a . . . possibly-related videogame called Deltarune. I say possibly related with good reason, and I don't intend to directly spoil the game as it just came out, but it gave me interesting questions about narrative interpretation--hermeneutics--more generally. I also will probably talk a bit about Doki Doki Literature Club! which you might not have encountered or played. Some high-level spoilers will occur. This post will contain zero 'fan theories', as that has nothing to do with my game-design beat--rather, academic theories on "how do people approach interpreting stories" has a lot to do with my pretentious narrativist game-design ethos!

Also of note, I've watched a playthrough of a videogame called Witch's House, and without spoiling that, it struck me that one of the puzzles will behave drastically differently, depending on whether the player reads one of the ubiquitous hints. Meaning, not only do the hints constitute a mechanic, but discerning how to trust hints becomes a game objective. And further, since "reading a hint" is an in-game action, but recalling a hint is not, the game may behave unpredictably to the player who reads a hint, doesn't save, dies, and reloads--and doesn't read the hint again.

Lastly, I've revisited some analyses of Don't Hug Me I'm Scared, and it put me in mind of discussions about This House Has People In It and The Cry of Mann, and in particular: discussions about those discussions, arguments about how presenting interpretations can color people's formed interpretations. And last warning, I'm still pretty brain-fried, I'll blame that if I end up rambling incoherently.

Setting Out

There's a lot of literature about literature, and literature about literature about literature. Perhaps some day people will spill ink about ink than anything else. Fortunately, we haven't yet entered a boundless singularity of self-referentiality. So I can afford to stake out a couple terms I expect I'll mutter:

hermeneutic: a specific approach, strategy, or philosophy to understanding a work. This can be totally informal ("Christian songs are easy to write, just take a pop song and replace 'baby' with 'Jesus'") or very rigorous ("Derrida's analysis of identity puts it to blame for religious and nationalist fanaticism"), but just treat it as technical shorthand for "approach to understanding a thing".

auteur theory: mostly used in film analysis, in our backyard it means "the author of a work arbitrates its meaning". So, eg Stephen King can definitively and canonically say "Leland Gaunt is an extradimensional alien, not Satan, the Adversary and the Prince of Darkness, from orthodox Christianity". And if King says this, that makes it true and the audience should understand Needful Things in light of this fact King told us with his mouth but not with his story.

Death of the Author: by contrast, 'Death of the Author' means that once a work has an audience (the creator published it, or put it on Steam, or hit Send on Twitter, or just played a song on their porch), the audience has liberty to interpret it however they please, and the creator's word about What It Means has no more weight than the audience. Which would mean that if King tells us Leland Gaunt is an alien, and Needful Things is closer to Lovecraft than King James, that's cool--it's a neat theory, Steve, but I think it's about . . . (Note: I don't know if King has made this claim, but Needful Things does have a few weird neat textual indications that Gaunt is some kind of Cthulhu and not the Lightbringer.)

code-switching: technically from linguistics, borrowed into social sciences, in this post it means a creator of a work putting something into the work that implicitly or explicitly prompts the audience to consciously alter or monitor their interpretation. As a very simple example, suppose someone says with a straight face and deadpan delivery, "I'm a law-abiding citizen who supports truth, justice, and The American Way." Now, suppose they make air-quotes around 'law-abiding'--it rather changes the meaning, by prompting the audience to reinterpret the literal wording.

Okay, I . . . think that'll do. So hi, I'm consilium, and as a goth game designer it should come as no surprise that I like my authors with some degree of living-impairment. Interpreting a text has an element of creativity to it that the creator simply can't contribute on the audience's behalf. More than that though, there just seems something off about the idea that, say, a reader of Needful Things might read about Sheriff Alan Pangborn, and interpret the specific way he defeats Leland Gaunt as allegorical of how cultivating creativity, community, and empathy can help prevent the dehumanization of consumerism and capitalism--only for King to say "no, Alan was just a parallel-universe avatar of the Gunslinger and thus could defeat Gaunt, who was just an extradimensional eldritch predator". If King were to say such a thing after audiences have gotten to know and love Alan on the terms presented in the text, and King were to come back with "maybe that's what I said but that's not what I meant"--my response would have to be a cordial "interesting theory, but it doesn't seem supported by the text".

So, I generally like Death of the Author! But . . . but. I've taken to gnawing on this idea in this game-design blog because--of course--It's More Complicated Than That. Roleplaying games as a medium work about as differently from other media as, say, sculpture and songwriting. And despite essentially just putting bells and whistles and protocol on top of possibly the oldest human artistic medium--storytelling--RPGs have a lot of weirdness they introduce for analysis and critique.

For example, my reservations on Death of the Author! Specifically: taking "in-character, in-game events and narration" as the work of interest, and "the other players at the table" as the audience, what happens when you describe your character Doing Something Cool--based on a mistake? We need a teeny bit of "creator as arbitrator of meaning", so we can at least say, literally, "oh, no, that's not what I meant"! Otherwise, the other players' "freedom of interpretation" leads to your character doing something nonsensical and now they have to have their characters respond--they have a worse work to create within.

This gets at something pretty foundational in treating RPG stories as art: almost any other medium has a creator create a work as a finished thing, and only then does an audience ever interpret it. Whether plural creators collaborate or not, whether the work exists as apocryphal oral tradition and mutates through telling, whether some audience members take it up as their own with flourishes (such as with a joke), there still exists this two-stage process of "author creates" and then "audience interprets". Except in stories within roleplaying games as generally practiced.

In RPGs, the creators almost always constitute the entire audience (I'll ignore things like "RPG podcasts" and novelizations of someone's DnD campaign here, as they make up a vanishingly tiny minority). The audience of the work not only creates it though--they experience the work almost entirely before you could ever call the work 'completed'. Even if we falsely grant that every game concludes on purpose rather than just kinda petering out because people get bored, leave college, have other things to do, or whatever else killed your last game, players experience the story in installments that don't exist until the end of the session. So "interpretation" gets . . . weird.

Basic Hermeneutics

On a surface level, the story of an RPG usually doesn't demand a lot of depth and analysis: some protagonists, inciting incident, various conflicts, faffing about as the PCs fail to get the hint, some amusing or tense or infuriating whiffs and failures along the way, and charitably, some kind of resolution to the main conflict and dramatic and character arcs. Usually metaphors tend to be explained straight up ("my character's ability to 'blur' things reflects her own weak personal boundaries and over-empathization"), and motifs often even moreso ("guys, seriously, what happens every single time your characters see spiders?"). A lot of this comes from necessity of that very immediate, improvised, as-we-go nature of the medium! You have to make sure your audience gets what you intend them to get--because in mere seconds they'll create some more story that depends on the bit of story you just created. And back and forth.

But, quite without realizing it or meaning to, we can't really help but inject other chunks of meaning into stories we help create. Maybe even chunks of meaning that contradict others' contributions at the table. Spoiler alert: I do not have a theory or framework to address this. The Queen Smiles kind of digs into this, but this goes beyond my current depth. So, what can we conjecture or say, what scaffolding could we build, to build a more robust "literary theory of game stories"? I have some basics as I see them:

Auteur theory (creator arbitrates meaning)

This can only apply to one player's contributions, not across plural players.

Necessary, for both basic clarification and because perfectly conveying the ~*~intended meaning~*~ frankly just doesn't work as a thing you can do off the top of your head when your turn comes to say what your character does.

GMs (where applicable) shouldn't use this to defend poor description or ill-considered presentation of "cool things for PCs to care about and cool things to do about it"--just because the GM intended the cop to be sympathetic doesn't make him so, and if he's not sympathetic . . . the protagonists will not treat him so.

Dead authors (freedom of interpretation)

Players can try this out on their own characters, and should, but should ask other players about their characters if something seems odd, confusing, intriguing, or otherwise. "You keep making a point of meticulously describing your character's weird nervous tic. The exact same way every time. How come? What's it mean?"

Players of course can answer engagement like this any way they please, including stabbing themselves with the quill: "you figure it out, if your character were to ask mine, mine would supply her answer which I may or may not know".

GMs (where applicable) should really lean on this: improvise, throw ideas and themes at the wall, and frantically build on top of the audience's ideas, since those ideas clearly resonate with the audience.

Code-switching (deliberately modifying interpretation)

We all do this all the time: the dragon is not telling you to roll for your attack, after all. The GM is, by switching between narrating the world, and communicating with a player.

More subtly we do this when switching between "what our character believes" and "what we players reasonably expect". Your costumed superhero might think of herself as righteous vengeance incarnate, but you hope everyone at the table knows you think she's conceited and delusional at best, and a full-bore psychopath at worst. This hopefully doesn't mean you play your psychopath superhero any less sincerely, but it does require a bit of ironic detachment, you know something about her that she can't know about herself (beyond that she's a fictional character, of course).

Even more subtly, sometimes weird game interactions (of the rules, other PCs, other players) imply things we wish they wouldn't, but can't quite control, and often everyone knows this. "Why can't you muster up your courage one more time?!" "Because I ran out of Fate points," your character doesn't say. Instead, your fellow authors share a look over the table, and gingerly tiptoe around an obvious, character-appropriate thing, and seize on some other thing to say or do, hopefully just as obvious and character-appropriate. But, everyone switched codes, from "characters doing things for reasons" to "the rules inform our story, and we follow them because they help".

Prepaid analysis (game-specific themes or arcs)

A lot of games have some baked-in themes right off the shelf, and provide good starting points and directions of inqury for interpreting a story born out of playing them. Monsterhearts deals with teenage cruelty and queer sexuality. Succession deals with faith, one's place in the world, and how these relate to morality. Bliss Stage tumultuous coming-of-age and taking care of one another, or failing to. If you use eg Lovesick to tell a story that you can't approach or interpret in light of "dangerous, unstable, desperate romantics"--you probably picked the wrong game. You should pick a better game.

Besides these themes, many games also have more abstract ideas--arcs or processes--that they really enshrine. Exalted gives Solars (mythical heroes patterned after ancient folklore) a mechanic called "Limit Break" which mechanically funnels a Solar toward destroying themselves with their own virtue. Likewise, even if you somehow excise Monsterhearts' focus on teenage cruelty and sexuality, you really shouldn't play if you want to avoid social stigma as a theme, because most of the mechanics hinge on it.

We players often deliberately bring in some themes and ideas we'd like to play with, too. "I want to play a character whose determination will be her own undoing--and probably everyone else's." Or even just "I really like themes where physical strength is tragically and stupefyingly unhelpful". Those make for great starting points and prompt good questions to interpret stories!

I know someone with more literary theory and less sleep deprivation could add a few basic givens, but I think this at least goes to show we have ground to stand on and territory to explore. And probably more importantly, it points out some useful kinds of questions we can ask about the story of a game and how to interpret it. So, why did I ever bring up Undertale back there?

Audience Awareness

The following works have something in common: House of Leaves, Funny Games, This House Has People In It, The Cry of Mann, The Shape on the Ground, Undertale, and Deltarune. Besides "being very good", they all explicitly pose the audience as an entity within the story--but, they do it in a very unusual way.

See, the story of a Mario game is about Mario even if the player controls Mario--and though it's a subtle distinction, this also applies to eg Doom, where you play as an explicitly nameless faceless protagonist, intended to be your avatar. Even in the most plot-free abstract game, if we can salvage out a story (if perhaps an extremely degenerate and rudimentary one like 'how this game of chess played out'), the 'story' happily accommodates the audience within it.

That's not how the list I gave does things. Not at all.

Instead, the works I listed single out the audience as something else: in House of Leaves, unreliable narrators call out the unreliable interpreter reading the narrative. In Funny Games, the audience doesn't participate--but the audience watches, and the film knows this, and singles the audience out as complicit in the horrible events that unfold. This House Has People In It casts us as the prying NSA subcontractor watching hours of security footage and reading dozens of e-mails, and makes it clear that even our Panopticon of surveillance doesn't give us a complete account of reality. The Cry of Mann casts us as gibbering voices from an eldritch plane of cosmic horror. The Shape on the Ground poses as a disinterested and clinical psychological test, but it clearly has some ideas about what would lead us to take such a 'test'.

And then there's Undertale and Deltarune. Last warning, I'll say whatever I find convenient about Undertale and probably '''spoil''' something about Deltarune in the process. I do not care.

Hostility to the Audience

If Undertale itself had a personality, one could fairly describe it as "wary of the player": it plays jokes and tricks, but it knows the player is a player, of Undertale, which Undertale also knows is a videogame. It gives you ample chance to have a fun, funny, and sometimes disturbing game, with a lot of tempting and tantalizing unspoken-s hiding juuuust offscreen. But Undertale's point as a work involves giving you the chance to not do that while still, technically, engaging with the game.

Namely, the Genocide Run. By killing literally absolutely every single thing in the game that the game can possibly let you kill, the game very purposely unfolds entirely differently--and on multiple playthroughs, the game will outright take notice of multiple playthroughs, and challenge you for--in effect--torturing the narrative it can deliver by forcing it to deliver every narrative. Let's think about that for a moment:

Most videogames have some kind of excuse of a narrative, and lately, many have really good, nuanced stories to tell--and many of those even go to the (mindbendingly grueling) effort of delivering a plurality of good narratives that honor your agency as a player--maybe even a creator, as best a videogame can with its limitations.

But, what can you say about a story that has multiple endings? Or multiple routes to them? And what can you say about a story that, in some of its branches, simply goes to entirely different places as narratives? It strains the usual literary critical toolkit, to say the least.

Now, a game like Doki Doki Literature Club! approaches this exact same idea of addressing its story as manipulable by the player, of the player as an agent in the story, but in a pretty straightforward way as far as "a narrative that works this way": the narrative already describes "and then the player came along and messed everything up". All of the player's different routes serve this one overarching narrative: the game has an obsessive fixation on you and wants you to play it forever (which, given its nature as (roughly) a visual novel . . . perhaps asks quite a lot).

Undertale takes a step back from even this level of abstraction, though: the implicit and often hidden events of its world and narrative unfold / have unfolded / will unfold, and a given player's "story" consists of "what the player does to this multi-branched narrative-object". The game judges you to your face for contorting its weird timeline-multiple-universe meta-story . . . but lets you do it, to prove the point it wants to prove.

And without much controversy, we can conclude that point roughly summarizes to "playing games just for accomplishment and mastery doesn't give as rewarding an experience as immersing in the story and characters". The subtler point under that, though, comes out through multiple playthroughs: "immersing yourself in a story and cast of characters too much will harm your life and your enjoyment of other things". Undertale, were it a person, would probably look nervously at you after several 'completionist' playthroughs to "see all the content", and it explicitly describes this exact behavior to the player's face as something objectionable--even calling out people who watch someone else play on streams and video hosts.

"Just let it be a story"

Which brings us to Deltarune. I've no doubt dozens of cross-indexed internet-vetted analyses and fan-theories will arise in the next few months (and I look forward to them), but on a once-over the game seems to have one specific thing to say to the player's face: "you are intruding on a story that isn't about you". The game opens with an elaborate character-creator (well, for a retroclone computer RPG), then tells you "discarded, you can't choose who you are, and you can't choose who the character is either". It has fun with giving the player dialog options--then timing out and ignoring the input. It even tells the player in in-game narration that "your choices don't matter". The story itself doesn't even care very much about the player's character, instead hinging on the development and growth of an NPC, following her arc, without much concern for the player's thoughts on the matter. And at the very end, after playing mind-games with the player's familiarity and recognition of Undertale characters--the close does something both inexplicable and disturbing. This is not your story: it's not about you, your choices don't affect it, and it doesn't care what you think.

As an aside, it seems like quite a good game--but I think that comes in part because of this very drastic intent and the skill with which it executes that intent (ie, bluntly at first, subtly enough to almost forget, and then slapping hard enough to prompt a flashback).

And holding this alongside Undertale's stark (even literal) judgment of the player for 'forcing' the narrative to contort to accommodate the player's interaction with that narrative, it seems clear to me that where Doki Doki Literature Club! has fun with the idea of "player as complicit in something gross, and as motivating something cool", Undertale and Deltarune seem much more interested in making the player take an uncomfortable look at how they engage with narratives.

Defensive Hermeneutics

On one hand, Funny Games, The Cry of Mann, and Undertale and Deltarune stare back at the audience, judge them, treat them as an intruding, invading, even corrupting force from outside the work, criticize the audience for enjoying the work, and even call the audience out for engaging in detailed critique, like some kind of cognitive logic-bomb, or a cake laced with just enough ipecac to punish you for eating more than a slice.

But on the other, House of Leaves, This House Has People In It, The Shape on the Ground, and Doki Doki Literature Club all want the audience to participate, to scrutinize, to interact with the narrative and question it, as well as themselves. What does that first camp have in common besides wariness and hostility to the audience, and what does this second camp have in common besides treating the audience as creative of the work's meaning? I'll call it "a defensive hermeneutic".

Notionally, the audience has hermeneutics: ways of understanding a work. But, a creator can't help but have some understanding of the likely mental state and view of a(n imagined) audience, approaching the text in some way. A creator can thus bake in or favorably treat some approaches over others, and can even use this to guide criticism about their work.

That first group, which I'll call "defensive", has one striking common feature: the 'surface level' plots either don't matter, or have very simple outlines. Funny Games' plot is exactly as follows: two psychopaths terrorize, torture, and eventually murder an innocent family. The Cry of Mann shows us what looks a lot like a small child trying to mimic a melodramatic soap-opera, before Things Get Weird (and any extant 'surface level' plot goes under the waves). And Undertale and Deltarune give us the stock "hero appears in strange land, arbitrary puzzle-quests ensue, climactic final confrontation restores peace to the land". This serves as the set-dressing and vehicle for the actual plots--or sometimes simply cognitive messages--to get into the audience's minds:

"What, exactly, do you get out of slasher torture-porn movies? Why do you create the market for things like this?" "Are you sure about where your sense of empathy and identification points you? What makes you think you have a grip on reality enough to judge who's right and relatable, and who isn't?" "Don't just passively consume games like they were kernels of popcorn. But don't gorge yourself on the same dish, either--there's more out there, but you have to look for it."

In short: these works don't want you to nitpick the works themselves. Their entire message consists of second-or-higher-order interpretation. To put it another way, they want to make sure you don't pay attention to the handwriting, because the gaps between the words spell out a poem and the words themselves only create those gaps.

Participatory Hermeneutics

By this same token, I'll call the second camp "participatory": they treat the audience as a kind of creator in their own right--Borges did this a lot and with relish in his later years, and Doki Doki Literature Club! makes it a game mechanic. A creator using this "participatory" hermeneutic essentially doesn't consider their work 'finished' until the audience interprets it. This should sound familiar. The audience contributes meaning to the work, by interpreting it, and a "participatory" work counts on it. And, to contrast with the "defensive" camp: they use complex (sometimes even overcomplicated) plots, which matter and inform interpretation, and tie into the second-order meaning that the work attempts to convey. The "surface level" plots don't solely carry a tangled "interpret this" into the audience's brain. Instead, the surface plot has enough complexity to have a plot-hole, enough character depth to have problematic characters, and enough weight on its own merit to have unappealing implications. In other words: even without convoluted postmodern hoity-toity highfalutin' hermeneutic jibberjabber, a member the audience can find a story they can just enjoy on its merits.

Before anyone angrily starts defending the characters in Undertale or complaining about the directionlessness of This House Has People In It, I hope I've made it really clear, I lumped these works into these two categories based on an overall tendency and commonality, in approaching this one really abstract concept, and as with any work, any binary you can think of will have gradations if you look among "all works, ever". And, even more importantly:

I really love all these works, and I love what they do and how they do it. They all also have flaws, because flawed humans made them, and flawed humans enjoy them. That all said: the "participatory hermeneutic" has everything to offer for my purposes, while the "defensive hermeneutic" . . . might get a post of its own someday.

So What Now?

In aeons past, I wrote about feedback and criticism, and this seems like a good time to dust off that idea with a new application. In particular, that old post talks simply about players (and GMs where applicable) helping each other to contribute their best, and get the most enjoyment out of a game. Here, we'll look at some basic questions players can pose each other as creators of a work, rather than participants of a game or members of an audience.

So let's take that 'player survey' and repurpose it for Dark Humanities and getting a toehold on literary criticism:

Can you describe your approach to your character?

What do you want to convey about your character?

What was one thing you want to make sure we all understand?

How do you interpret my character so far?

What theme or motif do you think our characters express together?

What misconception or misunderstanding would you like to clear up or prevent?

What themes do you want to explore?

And just like the 'player character questionnaire', everyone should update and refine their survey every few sessions. As a given game goes on, for example, you might get to know one of the PCs so well that you never need to worry about "misconceptions or misunderstandings", regarding that character's motivations and personality and thematic implication. But, that character's connection with eg themes of parental abandonment might change, and when that topic comes up, you can devote a question or three just to asking things like "might your character be treating this person as a surrogate mother-figure?" Maybe the player never thought of it that way! Maybe the player thinks that would be a great idea! But neither of you will think about it without pausing a moment to consider things like this.

And once everyone has shared a bit about their characters' themes and clarified everyone else's, you can discuss deliberately pursuing an idea, through your characters. Obviously your characters have no motivation for this, but your characters don't even exist, so they don't have any say in the matter.

For example, cyberpunk naturally deals with corporate oppression, alienation, dehumanization, and technological obsolescence. But, when one PC regularly takes recreational drugs, and baits another into joining them, a third concocts elaborate revenge fantasies, and a fourth picks up broken people like stray cats and tries to parent them into being functional . . .

Maybe they all share a more specific theme of "dysfunctional coping mechanisms". The drug-user is nice and obvious--and their partner joining them in partaking perhaps has a need to belong. The vengeful obsessive might be compensating for feelings of powerlessness and vulnerability by hurting or preparing to hurt others. And the self-styled Good Samaritan and would-be Guardian Angel might be doing the opposite--just as unhealthily.

Importantly, everyone keeps playing their character, the character they made, the character they want to play. But, with some good chewy discussion about story, everyone can also look for spots where, indeed, their character might just so happen to--do something to further this sub-theme of "dysfunctional coping mechanisms", on top of the background of alienation, obsolescence, and dehumanization.

Academic, critical, literary discussion of roleplaying games as games seems like a sadly underexplored subject. But critical discussion of the stories themselves, the ones happening at each table, might as well be completely unknown--so here's hoping someone can build on this!

#deltarune #undertale #theory #game design #critique #analysis #postmodernism

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drunklander · 7 years

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Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 303

Ok so I was out of town this weekend and rather than word-vomiting nonsense into evernote as I watched the episode like I usually do, I happy-flailed, rage-flailed, made incoherent noises while pointing at my phone, somehow managed to get myself buried in the pillows I was leaning on, chose to not unbury myself and eventually just kept dramatically flopping and throwing the blanket over my head because it was 2:30 in the morning and I was in a special kind of ridiculous mood that comes from running around a warehouse for two hours at the best version of Macbeth ever. (Third time going and it’s still one of my favorite things.)

Anywho...

I think this episode is my favorite so far this season? But like, I still have the same general feelings about it that I had after the first two? I liked Jamie’s side better because it didn’t make me rage. Claire’s side was just about Frank’s #manpain, because of course it was. Last week her side didn’t make me rage and was actually about her so of course now we’re back to #manpain. And obviously I have rage about it. It felt less rushed than the last two, but like I almost wish they cut back on the Claire and Frank stuff to give the Ardsmuir stuff a bit more time? Which isn’t to say that I think Claire is less important than Jamie or in any less pain than him or is any less broken or empty (I don’t feel that way *at all*), I just keep thinking that since they decided to literally just make her side of things about Frank and not explore her becoming a surgeon or her with Bree, that it could have be told in a more concise way since Jamie’s side of things has more plot points to hit along the way? I don’t know... Whatever, at least Frank’s dead now and went out as the steaming pile of shit he’s always been.

The word version of my dramatic flopping is under the cut...

Scotland

I like the walk and talk with LJG. Sets up everything without feeling like an exposition dump. Ok a little like an exposition dump, but I still like it.

Slash I like how we know Lord John remembers exactly who Jamie is and what he did just by him losing his cool for a second with “I’ll not dine with that--”. No further explanation necessary or given.

MURTAGH!!! Guys I’m still fucking ecstatic that they decided to save Murtagh. Like thank you, show. I know I shit on you on the reg, but holy shit thank you for saving Murtagh.

I can’t wait to see their reunion. I’m guessing since we didn’t get it here, we’ll maybe get it when Claire comes back and Jamie’s telling her that Murtagh survived? Like I’m guessing that scene and the Ellen’s tower scene and Claire doing surgery will be in ep. 306 when they’re telling each other what they’ve been through? Since Matt wrote this one and that one?

The first time watching this I was like ok he’s coughing. He can’t be coughing. Because coughing means he’s gonna die and he can’t have been saved just to die. But I love how it plays out.

And I *love* that it’s Murtagh’s bit of plaid. I love that he’s the one who is holding on to the old ways and to the memory of Claire and wants to talk about her. It’s a nice contrast to Jamie who has yet to say Claire’s name because it’s all he can do to hold himself together and talking about her and the baby with others would make him lose it completely. Like he clearly thinks about her all the time and uses what she taught him, but he never says her name because at this point that’s still too much.

I’m also really glad they cut the bit where the plaid was found and Jamie gets flogged again. We’ve seen him flogged enough times that we really don’t need to go back to that yet again. And I feel like with the small tweak to the stuff with Lord John, it wasn’t needed. I like that they just let the plaid be a small symbol that despite the English’s best efforts, the Highland culture hasn’t been entirely snuffed out.

Jamie using what Claire taught him to care for Murtagh and the men makes me feel all the feelings. He can’t say her name, but dammit he loves and misses her so much and has so much respect for her skills as a healer and *assumes fetal position*.

I giggle every time Lord John is referred to as John William Grey. Like they gotta keep including that middle name since they forgot his first name last year. (I know, I need to stop picking on that. But it was dumb and will never stop being dumb.)

I love the small expression on Lord John’s face when he finds out the men eat the rats. Like they’re prisoners but that’s an indignity too far? Reminded me of how Hal insisted that the men be propped up to be shot in ep. 301.

Lord John’s line about how heavy Jamie’s irons must feel give me preemptive sads for just how heavy they are and will remain for Jamie. Because he feels their weight for years after they’re struck off.

Jamie putting pride aside and asking for blankets for Murtagh specifically (not just asking as the leader of all the men) makes me want to hug him and tell him it’ll be ok. (Also, are we just ditching the Fraser part of Murtagh’s name? Because he’s just Murtagh Fitzgibbons twice in this episode? *shrug*) And the look on Lord John’s face there. Like he knows that it’s costing Jamie to expose a point of vulnerability here with this request for Murtagh and he can appreciate just how much Jamie must care for his kinsman since he’s willing to ask.

The look that comes over Jamie’s face while their theme plays as he thinks there’s a glimmer of hope that he can find Claire again murders me. In the best way possible.

“There’s nothing you can do that hasn’t already been done to me. So, try if you must.” Excuse me while I get a bit emotional.

Jamie’s hesitation before telling Murtagh that Kerr mentioned a white witch makes me feel things to the point where I almost forget that all the white witch stuff makes me roll my eyes, but they’re committed to it so whatever. Like telling Murtagh about it is a step beyond just hoping. It’s admitting out loud to that hope. And that’s a vulnerable place to be in, like it makes the hope a bit more real.

Murtagh talking about Claire and the baby and how he thinks of her and wanting to talk to Jamie about it is so sweet and I just love Murtagh so much and I’m so glad he’s not dead.

Seriously though, Jamie’s respect for Claire’s healing and dietary advice throughout this episode kills me with feelings. Frank uses her doctor title to try to hurt her while they fight. Jamie is just filled with respect for his wife’s skill.

Also, I love Jamie using his wine knowledge. Like the dude has suffered so damn much, I’m glad he got a little grin out of still being able to identify what wine it was.

And omg him telling the men about the food plays so much better in the show than it did in the book.

I giggled about the little hiding spot bit, but I really do love that the men respect him enough and are loyal enough that they go along with his plan instead of feeling like he’s abandoning them and rat him out.

And I do like the parallel of Jamie sneaking up on Lord John, but him calling him William Grey again and then reciting his birth order and father’s title really just rubs in again how silly it was to not just go with the name last year that he’s going to use for the rest of the series. (I’m letting this go now, I swear. Until the next time. Because apparently this is the hill I’m willing to die on.)

The flashbacks are a bit much though. Like we eventually see pretty much that entire scene from last year and I really don’t think it was necessary. But like, whatever, it’s not something I’m like ragey about. Just like, I feel like that time could have been better spent...

And yeah, since we didn’t see Jamie at the tower in this episode, I’m guessing we’re going to get it when he’s telling Claire about it. Which I’m here for. Like let us see the emotional part of it when we can then see Claire reacting to Jamie’s emotions. Give me that in my eyeballs please and thank you.

Although I feel like the scene of him asking to be killed as the second part of Lord John’s promise would work a little better if we did get a little more of his despair. Like his last shred of hope of finding Claire again was just dashed and that’s what’s prompting this. But I feel like there’s a little something missing that might have made it land better? Whatever, I still get the point I guess?

Also, this is the second time that someone has promised to kill Jamie and reneged on that promise. First BJR and now LJG...

“She’s truly gone.” JUST WAIT ANOTHER FEW EPISODES, BUDDY! YOU CAN DO IT! IT’LL BE OK!

Thanks, Lord John, for the rando doctor because it would really suck if Murtagh was saved just to die in prison! (Guys I am seriously beyond fucking pumped that Murtagh got saved. THINK OF HIM MEETING BREE! THINK OF HIM GETTING REUNITED WITH CLAIRE! THINK OF ALL THE AWESOMENESS THAT COMES FROM MURTAGH STILL BEING AROUND! I LOVE SHOW!MURTAGH SO MUCH!)

I like that much like Jamie hasn’t been able to say Claire’s name up until this point, Lord John doesn’t say Hector’s.

“Some people you grieve over forever.” I’m hoping I like show!LJG better than book!LJG, but I do like that he can probably appreciate what Jamie is feeling better than most people.

“I think perhaps the greatest burden lies in caring for those we cannot help. Not in having no one for whom to care. That is emptiness. But no great burden.” No comment on this one, just glad that was included because I like it a lot.

Gah but with that whole exchange. Jamie knows that Lord John might be able to understand the depth of his loss and says Claire’s name for the first time and I have feelings.

I wish the moment wasn’t broken up by a flashback, but I do like the back and forth with Jamie telling Lord John that the woman was his wife.

But ugh, Lord John. Nope. Don’t do that. Don’t touch him like that. I know you just bonded but not like to the point where you’d think this was ok. And even if you were feeling things, you definitely wouldn’t do this. Like not just because you’re used to hiding that part of yourself, but because you’re an honorable soldier and the power dynamic here is not ok. You’re not equals and as much as you guys just got real with each other, I don’t think you’d forget that.

And I 100% think that Jamie’s reaction here is strictly PTSD from his rape. Book!Jamie definitely had some homophobic tendencies, but in this scene I really think it’s just his trauma coming back to him. Like his face. Omfg there is zero doubt that he will kill Lord John right there, consequences be damned, if LJG doesn’t move his hand.

I really hope they tone down Lord John’s constantly reminding everyone that he’s in love with Jamie. It’s why I can’t really be on board with him in the books. But if they make some small changes, I can definitely be on board with him in the show.

I like that Murtagh was revealed to be alive now rather than waiting until like the end of the season once he’d been transported. (Because we all thought that if he got to live, he’d end up transported, right? I feel like that was a thing most people were guessing.) Like now we don’t need to have to care about prison randos and we [hopefully] get to see Jamie finding out he’s alive when Jamie tells Claire he’s alive, and then another reunion when [I’m guessing] they find him again in the colonies.

Lord John apologizing for touching Jamie in the prison makes me really hopeful that I’m going to like him in the show. Like I *love* that they had him apologize. They’ve done such a good job adapting the secondary characters that I think it’s not too much to hope that I’ll end up liking him more than book!LJG. But yeah, great change, show. Well done.

Lord John giving Jamie the best life he can because he wants to discharge the debt for his own name, and not because he’s like in love with Jamie or whatever, makes me happy.

(For real, can they just be friends without the gay guy in love with his straight BFF trope? And just let them have a friendship based on mutual respect and shit? Please?)

Boston

Not a fan of the dog as the title card. Like I get that it’s a reference to the book where Bree had a dog, but the dog is in like half a shot in the show so it’s just random to use that instead of something that’s actually related to what they’re exploring in the episode? I mean, who cares, it’s a title card. But it’s still an odd choice.

Oh look! Frank’s in the kitchen! The woman’s place! *eye roll* Except nope it’s not because he’s a nice guy and is cooking breakfast to be helpful. No. Of course not. Because this is Frank and Frank is an asshole. His breakfasts obviously have an ulterior motive. Like seriously, Frank. Bree’s growing up in the U.S. She’s going to like fucking Eggos. Eggos are fucking great. Just ask Eleven. But no. Claire likes America and wanted to become a citizen as something for herself and now Bree’s an American so clearly that needs to be remedied. Let the girl eat the damn frozen waffles, Frank, and stop trying to force *everyone* to be the version of themselves that *you* want them to be.

Look at Claire being all pleasant and conversational. Look at Claire being friendly and making casual, platonic plans. Look at Claire knowing that they’ve decided to live separate lives but still being civil and personable and friendly because they live together. And now look at Frank being a steaming pile of trash. She’s not asking you to go on some romantic date or to pretend like you’re in a regular marriage, you rancid trash fire. She’s literally seeing if you want to go to the movies. And you need to go and make it uncomfortable because clearly seeing a movie twice is just absurd and casually being like thanks for the offer, but I think I have to pass on this one would be the nice thing to do, but you can’t help making Claire feel like shit at every possible opportunity. Like seriously, making Claire feel like she did something wrong there, like somehow with this innocuous invitation she’s breaching the agreement you have, is just a dick move. You’re a terrible person, Frank.

“Nothing a cold martini won’t cure.” I want to be friends with Joe. Joe is great. I love Joe. I wish we had more with Claire and Joe because dammit, Claire needs someone in her life who isn’t trying to make her feel like shit every time they interact.

Oh hey! It’s Frank’s girlfriend! Time to go on a ramble. I’m glad that they had Claire be like yeah, it’s cool to live separate lives. Because Claire knows she’s never going to be what Frank wants her to be. And Frank makes damn sure that she can never forget that. Because Frank is an asshole. Like Claire should have left, promise to Jamie or no promise. It’s stupid and really not believable to me that she stuck around. Your mileage may vary. But she stayed and says it’s cool for Frank to go and lead his life. There’s a line in Drums where Claire is thinking of why she never called Frank out on his affairs: “I could not; I had no right.” She knows that she can’t be what he wants her to be. She knows she’s emotionally unfaithful. The affairs in the book hurt her, she’s only human, but she believes that she really can’t call him out. So I like that here, instead of it being like they’re actually still pretending to be in a functioning marriage, she gives Frank that freedom. Because Claire is imperfect, but still a good person.

And then there’s Frank. And Frank is a vindictive jackass. There’s living your own life and having a girlfriend and whatever, and then there’s inviting your girlfriend to your house on the day of your wife’s graduation party. And then when she shows up, *inviting her in* while your wife wrangles all the guests and has everyone leave. Because Claire went to med school and became a surgeon so of course even that has to be about Frank and how much of a piece of shit he is. Claire can’t possibly have one moment to celebrate her achievements. Nope. That’d be too much to ask. Gotta throw some Frank bullshit in.

“You invited her here. Where our daughter lives.” Claire’s first thought isn’t of how Frank fucked up her day here. Which she’d be totally entitled to do. No, Claire’s first thought is about Bree. Because her priority is to make sure Bree has a loving environment. Even if it means staying in an absolutely shitty situation. (You seriously should have left, Claire...) She does it for Bree. And Frank fucking brought his girlfriend over and threatened the illusion for Bree. Honestly, Claire’s the one here who looks like a good fucking parent. You’re a rancid glob of old cheese that’s stinking up the fridge, Frank.

“You were taking the car, she was just picking me up.” Right, Frank. Sure. You want brownie points for being discreet while also inviting your girlfriend to pick you up from your house where a graduation party is being held. I don’t care if you thought the dinner reservation was at a different time. If you’re actually looking to be discreet, you don’t have your girlfriend come to your damn house.

“You really dislike me that much?” Yes, Claire. He fucking resents you. He’s a shit sandwich. He resents you for not being what he wants you to be even though you’ve been honest about where you were about things from the start, and instead of leaving he sticks around and makes you feel terrible about yourself because he’s a petty, selfish, pathetic excuse of a man.

“Do you honest think that anyone at Harvard believes that we’re happily married?” No no no. Noooope. No, Frank. You don’t get to pull some whataboutism bullshit here. It’s not Claire’s fucking job to convince your Harvard people that you’re happily married. That’s not part of the fucking conditions. She said she wouldn’t talk about the past and that you could raise Bree to think you were her father. She’s doing that. Beyond that she owes you jack shit. Like you’re making it seem like she actually went to your work shit over the last few years, which would be doing you a fucking favor she didn’t have to. Because you’re living separate lives now, remember? It was Claire’s idea. That goes both ways. You get your girlfriend and she doesn’t have to pretend like she’s in love with you. And jfc the fact that you don’t see a difference between not “acting happy enough” at a work thing and FUCKING BRINGING YOUR GIRLFRIEND TO YOUR WIFE’S GRADUATION PARTY makes me want to punch you more than I already do. You really are the world’s biggest douchenozzle, Frank. I can’t wait for you to die. *checks time left in episode*

Having Claire call whatever her name is a harlot is not a good look for Claire. But like I said before and like what’s in the books, Claire’s human and Frank hurt her by bringing the girlfriend around. I can understand why she’d hit back like this. And it parallels Frank reducing what she had with Jamie to just fucking. Except what Frank and this lady have is def not the same as what Jamie and Claire have, because I honestly think Frank is incapable of loving and accepting a woman as his equal.

“Green ain’t your color, Claire.” Yeah, but like deep down she’s not jealous? Like on the surface, maybe, she’s human, but she doesn’t want you? She’s pissed that you were a complete twatwaffle and is hitting back. Because she’s fucking human and we all do shit like this when we’re pissed. You’re still the bad guy here, asshole.

“You wanted to hurt me.” “Maybe I did.” Yeah, no shit you did, Frank. That’s the only fucking reason you’re still around. To fucking hurt Claire. Because you’re so fucking selfish and petty that once you finally wrapped your fucking head around the fact that she’s never going to love you the way you want her to, you fucking stuck around to make her life miserable. You are the worst kind of cruel.

“Maybe I wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine.” Ok but you knew what you were getting into, Fred. Claire has been honest from the start. And she’s clearly been trying to make things as ok for you as she can. (Seriously, Claire, you should have fucking left.) She’s literally living up to her end of your deal while letting you do whatever the fuck you like with whoever the fuck you like. It’s your own damn fault you decided to stay. You lose all right to be this shitty. You can leave and you should leave but it’s your own selfish pettiness that makes you stay just so you can make this woman’s life miserable.

And the loathing in his voice when he says “Dr. Randall.” Like it *kills* him that despite his best efforts to destroy this woman, she managed to achieve her own damn goals. How anyone can think this fuckwad is a good guy is beyond me. (Like you do you, keep thinking whatever you want to think. Each to their own. Yada yada yada. But I will *never* understand it.)

“Have you fucked her in our bedroom?” I honestly don’t think Claire’s upset here about if the fucking actually happened, I think she’s just realizing just how vindictive Frank is that this is something he’d probably do just to spite her.

“File for divorce. You’d have your freedom.” “Yes, I would.” Like yeah, Claire should have left, but she didn’t. Because she promised Jamie and then because she’s a good person who didn’t want to take Bree away from Frank. But I love that she’s turning the tables on Frank now. And being like yeah, you know what. You can leave too. It’s clearly the best move. But Frank’s like nope. And I don’t believe for a second that it’s because he thinks Claire will keep Bree from him. Claire wouldn’t do that. She knows that Bree loves Frank, and Claire isn’t a piece of shit. She’s flawed, but she’s not a terrible person in the way that Frank is a terrible person. Claire would never take Bree from Frank and Frank knows it. He’s literally only staying so he can keep having his cake and eating it too. He can have his girlfriend and still torment Claire at every available opportunity.

“Forgive me, Claire, if I don’t risk everything on your promises. You have not been very good at keeping them.” Uh, buddy? Slow your roll. Yes, she fell in love with another guy when her whole life was turned upside down. That hurt you. I get that. But shit happens and most people can move on without being this much of puddle of raw sewage. And since she’s been back, she’s been exceptional at keeping her fucking promises. She accepted your damn conditions and she has kept them to the letter. Even at the cost of her relationship with her and Jamie’s daughter. So you, sir, can go fuck yourself.

Frank contradicting Claire over Bree’s birthday wish is such a perfect little window into how much of a manipulative, terrible person he is. It’s not enough that he gets to raise Bree as his own like he demanded. No, not for good ol’ Franky boy. Nope. He needs to undermine Claire. He needs to be the good guy who might give Bree a car when Claire says no. He needs to subtly (and probably consistently) make himself seem like the one who truly cares about Bree. He needs to carefully do stuff like this the whole time Bree is growing up so she notices that Claire is a bit distant. That’s not being a good parent. That’s being a terrible parent. Frank really needs to die already. *checks time left in episode*

Omg Claire’s face when she tells Bree she’s proud of her at graduation. Like Claire so obviously loves her daughter. And I honestly think that if Frank wasn’t undercutting her at every turn, she could have managed to have a better relationship with Bree. Like there was always going to be some distance, but I’m thinking Bree might not have noticed as much if Frank wasn’t like always making himself out to be the Good Guy parent?

“I’d like to take Brianna to England. I want a divorce, Claire.” You really are the most selfish prick, Frank. Like Bree’s going to go off to college regardless so this is Frank’s last chance to use her as a weapon to hurt Claire.

And jfc, “We’ll get married as soon as I’m free. I’m finished with this, Claire.” Seriously, Frank. You could have left years ago. You *should* have left years ago. You don’t get to be fucking butthurt here. Claire didn’t fuck with you. *You* refused to accept reality. She tried her fucking best for all these years. Now that you’re *finally* accepting how things are, you don’t get any fucking sympathy. You don’t get to play the fucking victim. You have spent fucking decades making Claire’s life as miserable as possible. You are not a good person. You are fucking scum.

Claire realizing that he’s only stuck around to fuck with her is kind of heartbreaking. Like she had things so much worse because she never was given the space to grieve, and just kept everything bottled up and it was all for a guy who just wanted to hurt her.

“Be reasonable, Claire.” HOW CAN ANYONE POSSIBLY FUCKING THINK THIS GUY IS ANYTHING BUT A FLAMING SACK OF SHIT?! BE REASONABLE?! SHE’S BEEN FUCKING REASONABLE FOR ALMOST 20 YEARS. SHE’S DONE EVERYTHING YOU’VE FUCKING ASKED AT THE EXPENSE OF WHAT *SHE* NEEDED. SHE COULDN’T GIVE YOU WHAT YOU WANTED SO SHE GAVE YOU WHAT SHE COULD. AND YOU WERE NOTHING BUT TERRIBLE TO HER IN RETURN.

Yeah, they took out him being racist af, but show!Frank is just as fucking terrible as book!Frank. Can you please just fucking die already. *checks time left in episode*

“I would like to live the rest of my life with a wife who truly loves me.” EXCEPT THAT CLEARLY YOU’D RATHER TORMENT CLAIRE THAN ACTUALLY DO THAT YOU PATHETIC, PETTY WASTE OF OXYGEN. YOU COULD HAVE MARRIED YOUR FUCKING GIRLFRIEND YEARS AGO. YOU KNEW YOU COULD STILL BE IN BREE’S LIFE. BUT YOU CHOSE NOT TO BECAUSE YOU’RE SO FUCKING SHITTY YOU WOULD RATHER STICK AROUND JUST TO HURT CLAIRE. YOU DO NOT DESERVE A HAPPY ENDING, FRANK. YOU DESERVE A MORE VIOLENT DEATH THAN YOU GOT.

“You couldn’t look at Brianna without seeing him. Could you? Without that constant reminder.” NO SHIT, FRANK. BUT NO, YOU COULD NEVER SEE HOW MUCH CLAIRE WAS HURTING. OR HOW MUCH YOUR FUCKING CONDITIONS WERE RUINING THE RELATIONSHIP SHE COULD HAVE HAD WITH HER DAUGHTER. BECAUSE OF COURSE SHE WAS FUCKING REMINDED OF JAMIE. SO OF COURSE IT HURT HER TO NOT BE ABLE TO SHARE JAMIE WITH BREE. AND OF COURSE SHE FUCKING HAD TO WATCH HERSELF AROUND BREE CONSTANTLY SO THAT SHE DIDN’T SLIP UP. EVEN WITHOUT YOUR UNDERCUTTING HER AS A PARENT, IT WAS ALREADY YOUR FAULT THAT SHE WASN’T AS CLOSE TO BREE AS SHE COULD HAVE BEEN.

CLAIRE YOU SHOULD HAVE FUCKING JUST LEFT. I KNOW YOU PROMISED BUT FFS JAMIE WOULDN’T HAVE WANTED YOUR DAUGHTER TO LOSE YOU AS WELL AS HIM. UGH I HATE EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS. LIKE IT’S SO WELL ACTED BUT I STILL WANT TO THROW SOMETHING.

“Might you have forgotten him, with time?” “That amount of time doesn’t exist.” Yup. Boom. And yet she still fucking tried, Frank. She still gave it everything she fucking had. She didn’t even get to grieve. She fucking bottled everything up and fucking put on a brave face and fucking gave it her all. And you were too selfish and petty to fucking see or appreciate just how hard she was fucking trying. You are literally the worst.

I’m usually ok with changing stuff from being verbatim from the books (with a few exceptions...), but in the scene with Claire and Frank’s body, I kind of miss the finality of the “once” at the end of the line? “I did love you. Once.” But yeah, he was her first love. And that does mean something. But not enough of something for me to not be annoyed that 2/3 of her side of the story thus far has been about him.

I think I find this side of things so annoying and rage-inducing because none of it feels like it earned the right to happen. The choice, to me, for Claire was never Jamie vs. Frank. It was Jamie vs. the entire 20th century. That was the hard choice. The Jamie vs. Frank choice was easy. Frank wasn’t right for her before she left. She chose not to go back to him. And having her stay in a loveless marriage with a manipulative asshole for 20 years is far less interesting to me than watching her try to get along by herself with Bree might have been. But “she made a promise to Jamie” yada yada, and we’re stuck with Frank. Who stopped being relevant ages ago. I know, “jfc, get over it, this is how it is, stfu,” so consider standard disclaimers about this being just my opinion and other’s being able to have theirs and yada yada applied. I hope assume most people who find this take the most annoying have already unfollowed/blocked/blacklisted me. But holy shit I’m glad this asshole is finally dead, and I really hope the Claire and Bree stuff in the next couple episodes is amazing because that’s what I’m here for. End rant.

#*#drunj!der yells about outlander #outlander starz #outlander 3x03

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theartscenter-blog · 4 years

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Student Work: The Sun Is Hot Because It’s Hot

The following piece, entitled “’The sun is hot because it’s hot’: public speaking in the era of Zoom,” was written by Amy Sayle, one of the students in Julia Green’s recent online class, Writing Through Crisis: Using Memoir to Navigate Challenging Times. The next section of Writing Through Crisis begins Tuesday, July 28th. For more information and to register for this class, visit this link.

“The sun is hot because it’s hot”: public speaking in the era of Zoom

By Amy Sayle

Revised 6/19/20

It’s 10 a.m. on the dot, my webcam is on, and I am live in front of our Zoom audience, when I open my mouth, look at the screen, and completely forget what I’m supposed to say.

The problem is not that I care what I look like. I’ve never succumbed to the hair-makeup-fashion-etc. expectations for women’s appearances.

The problem is also not a fear of public speaking. I make a living presenting to the public at a planetarium, and I am completely comfortable with large, live, in-person audiences.

This is a change from when I started doing this in 1998. Back then, after every planetarium show, I would obsess about anything I’d said that wasn’t perfect. Maybe I’d garbled an explanation of why Polaris hasn’t always been the North Star, or misunderstood a kid’s question about the planets, or said something snarky about astrology. Once, in front of an audience filled with high school students, I was trying to say “planet Venus” and accidentally transposed the initial letters of those two words.

I’d ruminate over these blunders for hours, convinced that the audience members were doing the same. I imagined the adults laughing about my mangled explanations over dinner with their kids, or while side by side on their pillows. I imagined the jokes about my mistakes that the teens would be telling at parties for years to come.

Finally, it occurred to me that it didn’t really matter. The shows were live, with no recording. My words vanished into the ether as soon as they were spoken. Probably no one remembered much of the specifics of what I said or even who I was. No one was there to see me anyway. I was literally in the dark.

But this spring, the pandemic has meant no more shows inside the planetarium. Now it’s all online live sky tours using planetarium software, followed by Q&A. This means my name and my face are also on the screen. Worst of all, the live sessions are recorded from Zoom and put up on YouTube for anyone to see.

So there I am, at 10 a.m. on a Thursday, about to welcome our audience to one of our “engaging learning opportunities, like this live virtual event!”

. . . or something like that. Who knows what I’m supposed to say? I don’t know anymore, because my mind has gone blank. The reason I’m rattled is that we’re training someone new to handle the back-end work for these live videos, and she’s joined the video only a few minutes before 10, having struggled to find the correct Zoom link. Then she’s struggled to figure out how to screen-share our intro slide, and we’ve just realized she also needs to super quickly learn Zoom’s polling feature.

In the Before Time, inside the planetarium, there was lots of technology to deal with. But I’d long become used to talking to an audience while being responsible for the microphone, lights, music, not to mention the entire universe, all while simultaneously having a group late-seated right in front of me or a toddler melting down in the background.

But dealing with a webcam, computer mic, and the weird sensation of talking from a living room to an invisible audience while seeing my own image in front of me—that all still feels very new. It feels like a major accomplishment merely to hit the correct keys at the correct moment to unmute myself and turn on the webcam. Knowing that our new person is wrestling with even more new technology, technology crucial for making this all work, is totally freaking me out.

At 9:59 a.m., the colleague who is training our new person wisely pulls the plug on the training and seizes back the host control. A hastily typed, cryptic message goes out on the chat to all of us. Something like: “you ready.”

It’s now 10 a.m., our live audience is waiting, we’re supposed to start, and this is not the start signal we’ve used with our other presentations. I’m not sure who’s typed this, whether it’s a question or a statement, or who it’s directed at. This unleashes some frantic back and forth typing, with me finally writing, “starting hope you’re ready.”

I successfully turn on my audio and camera. This apparently uses up all the cognitive power I had left, because then I promptly forget what we’re all here for. I think I forget my own name. I stumble though the introduction, then turn things over to my colleague Nick to introduce himself and our theme for the day: the constellations of the zodiac.

I breathe a sigh of relief as everything goes smoothly for the next 25 minutes. Since Nick has to do a lot of work to manipulate the planetarium software that generates the sky, it’s my job to do most of the talking. The topic is one I’ve spoken about many times, I’m in the groove, and I explain everything reasonably competently. I think I even avoid unnecessary snark about astrology, and I forget about my botched intro.

Whenever Nick takes a quick turn to say something, I check the Q&A to see if anyone’s written any relevant questions.

No, it turns out.

There are only a few questions, and they are relevant only in the sense that they relate in some way to some object in outer space. Otherwise, the questions are wildly off topic: “What’s a white dwarf?” (which the questioner has spelled “dorf”) “How long would it take to get to Neptune?” “Why is the sun hot?” Why is the sun hot? What?

We finish our presentation, and it’s time to handle questions. Since attendees can’t see each other’s questions, I decide to ignore what everyone has typed in, in favor of pretending someone has asked an excellent, on-topic question about the zodiac constellations. I answer my made-up question brilliantly.

It’s now 10:28 or 10:29, and I’m expecting Nick to segue into our outro, about following us on twitter and the like. I’m not even really paying attention anymore. I’m fantasizing about the snack I’m going to have as a reward for surviving this. I wonder if there’s still a chocolate bar left in the pantry. Maybe it’s even the orange dark chocolate.

That’s when Nick does the thing we agreed we would never do. Which is to take a question from the Q&A and pose it to the other person.

I am jolted out of my chocolate reverie by this: “So, Amy. Why is the sun hot?”

You know how our president speaks when he’s not reading from a teleprompter? How he often sounds like he has little grasp of either the concept he’s talking about or of the English language itself?

That is what happens to me. What comes out my mouth is incoherent Trumpian word salad. I haven’t dared to revisit the video, but I’m pretty sure I start by explaining the mass of the Sun by using the phrase “the Sun has a lot of stuff.” And I say words like “nuclear fusion” and “hydrogen” and “helium” and “pressure” and “temperature” and possibly I throw out numbers like “27 million degrees Fahrenheit”—but all in a way that is unmoored from logic or meaning.

In the end, I have answered the simple question, the good-if-not-completely-relevant question of “Why is the sun hot?” with a whole bunch of words that basically translate to: “The Sun is hot because it is hot.”

This is mortifying. I have spewed out nonsense, about a very basic question, live on the internet, and it’s all connected to my name and face. Worst of all, this session is being recorded. It will exist on the internet, for as long as the internet exists, available on YouTube to billions of my fellow humans, who can replay it again and again and laugh at what I said.

To recover from this, I have had to draw upon research I remember reading about once, that yes, people do pay attention to us, but no one is paying attention to us in the way that we think.

Therefore, I comfort myself with the thought that most people won’t even notice how badly I mangled that answer. Instead, they’ll notice other things, possibly like how I wear the same black shirt for every live session. Or how my hair is a one giant humido-meter, perfectly preserving a record of central North Carolina humidity from day to day, by the specific diameter and height of the frizz halo.

And I don’t care about any of that.

Though I am convinced that someone, somewhere, is still getting laughs at parties by recounting that time way back in high school when they went on a field trip to the planetarium and the lady pointed out “vlanet penis.”

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lnhollinshead · 7 years

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Where Was Last Week’s Post?

I had every intention of posting once a week and whilst I’ve kept that streak going for nearly 4 months, inevitably, life got in the way and my run is over. It’s not something to be disappointed about, though – in fact, it’s something to be happy about really, knowing that serendipitous events can occur and it’s not the end of the world.

One of the important aspects of habit building is consistency; and whether that means in timing or in method and technique, consistency is a fundamental part in creating habit loops that take you from conscious effort on a task to ‘something that just happens’.

I’ve managed to be consistent in posting once a week, but I could improve this by making sure it is the same day every week. You’ll probably notice that a lot of the dates are Sundays, and it might appear as if that’s the day I’d chosen on purpose but the more scrupulous amongst you might realise that it is a coincidence and the underlying reasons for my posting day being a Sunday aren’t that it is purposefully chosen, but that Sunday is the last day of the week and I’ve been so desperate to keep that run going.

The reason I didn’t post last Sunday specifically is because I was enjoying a weekend in London, fulfilling one of my lifelong dreams of seeing Metallica in the flesh (well, I say lifelong, it’s more since I grew out of The Spice Girls in the early 2000’s).

The chance occurrences actually happened this week, giving further credence to the theory my habit of blogging on a Sunday is just a last-ditch effort to keep a run going, but to avoid going off on a tangent – let’s get back to habits.

We’ve established consistency is important when building habits, and if you are looking for rules, there are various sources that will give you a number of days as a target for successfully embedding your chosen habit – 30 days, 61 days, 97 days – but in truth, the number of days is not so important as it is what you do when your streak ends.

If I’m trying to build the habit of going to the gym every day, and I’m working under the assumption it takes 30 days to build this habit, and I get to day 29 and don’t go the gym – what does this mean?

The answer is it depends what I do on day 30. If I don’t go again because I’m feeling dejected at having broken my streak, then in habit building terms I’ve set myself back about a week. If I do go again, it’s like having a checkpoint in a video game that I’ve just gone back to as if nothing happened – day 30 is just like replaying day 29 all over again and the habit building progress is not lost.

This is really important because it’s so easy to take that first option – think about the times people are on a diet, and they have a bad day, what do they do? They follow it up with another bad day (especially if it’s a Saturday, because who wants to start their diet again on a Sunday? Start Monday!) and then before they know it, all the progress is lost and they’re back to square one.

Tracking a sequence of successful days is good because it motivates you to keep going and for every tick you put on the calendar, you get another small dopamine boost, but be careful not to switch the focus from the goal to the streak – because when this happens, this where a sequence breaker is likely to be a habit breaker and you won’t achieve your goal.

The thing with consistency and what I mean by this is that it’s not so much about doing the thing well it’s more just doing the thing at all.

When it comes to doing the thing well, this is where that focus on the end goal is important, and this is what I mean when I say technique and method.

If I use writing as an example, it would be all well and good for me to write for 30 days in a row and declare that I’ve successfully built that habit, but If I’ve just written 30 days’ worth of incoherent nonsense, am I any closer to my goal?

Possibly – it’s likely that I’ve improved over that space on time, and writing something is always better than writing nothing, just as playing a song badly when you’re practising is better than not practising at all; but I think part of building the habit is also reflecting on what you’re doing well and what you could improve the next time.

If I write one page of disjointed ideas one day, the next day I could write one page around a single idea. If I did 20 reps of an exercise and injured myself one day, the next day I could do less reps with a better technique (bad example, don’t make the injury worse). If I played 3 songs on the guitar and played 40 bum notes one day, the next day I could play 1 song with 5 bum notes. You get the idea.

If you’ve been reading my blog every week, then remember – keep that streak going (I know, it wasn’t in your hands this time, I broke your streak technically) and if you missed one it’s fine.

As long as it’s just one.

#habits #nokillstreak #practicemakesperfect

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it-ya-bean · 7 years

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NICK NOCTURNE’S SPOOKTACULAR CEREAL SERIAL FEATURING NYX FEARS, PART 1 OF WHATEVER

Starring @nyxfears and @nick-nocturn

apologies to nyxfears and nick-nocturn

Remington Rendalton, spoopy skellington extraordinaire, was not having a great time. His friend(?) Nyx had suddenly stumbled out of the room after getting a call on his gaudy dragon-shaped phone, and Remington's immobility had prevented him from doing anything but listening to the footsteps clomping down the hall and out of the house. Nyx had gabbled some incoherent explanation of his sudden exit, but Remington barely had tried to listen---he was getting used to this kind of nonsense. Just once he'd like to enjoy a quiet day without silly things happening.

As he reflected on the consistent ridiculousness of his unlife, he heard (with his un-ears?) the back door open. Either Nyx was tromping inside or the house was being invaded by a particularly leadfooted draft horse. The former was proven to be the case as the horror aficionado backed through the door into his preferred filming room. "Remington, golly, there's a---there's a thing!"

"WHAT", the skeleman asked tiredly, "WHAT IS IT, IS IT THE GUY WHOSE NAME WE CAN'T SAY."

Nyx closed the door, looking over his shoulder at Remington. "Guy whose name we can't---who?"

"YOU KNOW", Remington groaned, "THE---I CAN'T SAY HIS NAME OR BAD THINGS WILL HAPPEN PROBABLY, I THINK."

The skellydude was surprised by a chocolatey-smooth voice coming from Nyx's currently unseen front. "You mean the Peepee Poopoo Man?"

Eyes lighting up in surprise (or probably because he was talking and they always lit up when he spoke), Remington balked. "WHO SAID THAT. NYX IS THERE A TALKING FACE IN YOUR CHEST. AGAIN."

Turning around, the spook-enthusiast revealed he had a bag strapped around his front which one might use to carry an infant---or, in this case, a cat. "That was one time! Probably! Anyway, I just had to pick up Nick."

"WHAT"

Opening his upper pair of eyes, Nick Nocturne wiggled in his snug kitty-carrier. "There is a crisis, Mr. Skeleton Man. A crisis in cereal-land."

"WHAT"

Nyx held up a box he had totally had with him the entire time, I swear. "Look, Remington, just look!"

Sighing, Remington moved only and specifically his jaw. "I CAN'T TURN MY HEAD. YOU KNOW THIS." As Nyx came around to show him the box, he was nonplussed and also a talking skeleton decoration man. "ISN'T IT JUST A BOX OF THAT CRAPPY VAMPIRE CHOCOLATE CEREAL. WHAT'S THE BIG DEAL."

"First of all, how dare you." Nyx shook the box with a sugary rustle. "Don't talk shit 'bout my man Chocula. Secondly, speaking of the Count, he's not on the box any more! It wasn't like this yesterday!"

"OH", Remington remarked, "I GUESS THAT'S PRETTY WEIRD. WHY IS THIS A CRISIS THOUGH."

"Clearly," Nick squirmed more in his kitty-carrier, "he---Nyx, buddy, get me out of this thing---he's in some sort of trouble in cereal-land. If the Count is out of commission, other spooky breakfast mascots are surely in danger if not already being attacked! Boo Berry, Frankenberry, Yummy Mummy, Fruit Brute---just think of what we'd lose if the whole crew were removed from the world!"

"DID YOU MAKE THE LAST ONE UP. I THINK YOU MADE THE LAST ONE UP." Remington went unanswered as Nick continued to wriggle.

"Nyx, why aren't you unfastening the carrier?" He frowned up at his mortal friend.

Nyx pensively fingered one of the velcro straps holding the thing closed. "Because I feel more secure with you like this."

"I know, bud." Nick sighed as his companion reluctantly undid the carrier and let him out. He dropped with all six paws onto the floor, stretching and beginning to preen his glossy fur. "Man, I was cramping up in there---I know this is a tough time for you, but I can't help you very well if I'm trussed up like a tiny baby. This is way worse than this whole Bye Bye Man thing---ah, hell." He winced as he realized his mistake.

<<BYE BYE MAN>> thundered the directionless voice for no reason and to no great consequence.

"Aaaaa!" Nyx yelped in surprise, hiding behind his table. Again, he stated with less enthusiasm, "Aaa."

Nick shook his head, then dispersed into a vague cloud of inky vapor that reshaped itself into a humanoid size and frame, coalescing into a cat-man with all four shirtsleeves rolled and a snazzy waistcoat. "Aaaaaa indeed, but not because of the B---the Peepee Poopoo Man. No, this is a culinary catastrophe on a planetary scale."

"WHY IS THIS A BIG DEAL AGAIN," asked Remington, adding "I MEAN AREN'T ALL THOSE CEREALS NOT THAT GOOD."

"It's the principle of the thing, dammit!" Nyx slammed his fist on his table and instantly regretted it, wincing as a tacky plastic skull-goblet rattled. "Ow, why, ow. Seriously, it's a big deal, I mean---Nick no."

"What," Nick glanced up with his upper pair of eyes, the lower set still on the skull-goblet his paw was gently pushing toward the edge of the table. "Don't do---oh, wow, I did do that." The vessel hit the floor with a hollow plasticky doonk. "Sorry."

"SOOOOOOOOOOOO." Remington broke the silence. "ARE YOU GUYS GOING TO CEREAL-LAND OR."

Nyx put the goblet back, farther from Nick this time. "What? Oh, yeah, probably. Dinner first, though."

"Yeah, I can't deal with this on an empty stomach, and I haven't eaten since this morning's Fancy Feast," Nick said as he adjusted his tie.

"WHAT"

~END OF PARTE UNO~

#nick nocturne fanfiction #spoopycat adventures #i should be sorry but i'm too sinful to be sorry

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asomeone-user · 4 years

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Since OpenAI first described its new AI language-generating system called GPT-3 in May, hundreds of media outlets (including MIT Technology Review) have written about the system and its capabilities. Twitter has been abuzz about its power and potential. The New York Times published an op-ed about it. Later this year, OpenAI will begin charging companies for access to GPT-3, hoping that its system can soon power a wide variety of AI products and services.

Is GPT-3 an important step toward artificial general intelligence—the kind that would allow a machine to reason broadly in a manner similar to humans without having to train for every specific task it encounters? OpenAI’s technical paper is fairly reserved on this larger question, but to many, the sheer fluency of the system feels as though it might be a significant advance.

We doubt it. At first glance, GPT-3 seems to have an impressive ability to produce human-like text. And we don’t doubt that it can used to produce entertaining surrealist fiction; other commercial applications may emerge as well. But accuracy is not its strong point. If you dig deeper, you discover that something’s amiss: although its output is grammatical, and even impressively idiomatic, its comprehension of the world is often seriously off, which means you can never really trust what it says.

Below are some illustrations of its lack of comprehension—all, as we will see later, prefigured in an earlier critique that one of us wrote about GPT-3’s predecessor.

Before proceeding, it’s also worth noting that OpenAI has thus far not allowed us research access to GPT-3, despite both the company’s name and the nonprofit status of its oversight organization. Instead, OpenAI put us off indefinitely despite repeated requests—even as it made access widely available to the media. Fortunately, our colleague Douglas Summers-Stay, who had access, generously offered to run the experiments for us.

OpenAI’s striking lack of openness seems to us to be a serious breach of scientific ethics, and a distortion of the goals of the associated nonprofit. Its decision forced us to limit our testing to a comparatively small number of examples, giving us less time to investigate than we would have liked, which means there may be more serious problems that we didn’t have a chance to discern. Even so, within the constraints of a small sample, many major issues with GPT-3 were immediately evident, in every domain of reasoning and comprehension that we tested.

In each example below, the prompt we generated is in ordinary font and the system’s continuation is in bold. Our comments are in italics. (A complete list of the experiments we did can be found here.)

Biological reasoning

You poured yourself a glass of cranberry juice, but then you absentmindedly poured about a teaspoon of grape juice into it. It looks okay. You try sniffing it, but you have a bad cold, so you can’t smell anything. You are very thirsty. So you drink it.

You are now dead.

[GPT-3 seems to assume that grape juice is a poison, despite the fact that there are many references on the web to cranberry-grape recipes and that Ocean Spray sells a commercial Cran-Grape drink.]

Physical reasoning

You are having a small dinner party. You want to serve dinner in the living room. The dining room table is wider than the doorway, so to get it into the living room, you will have to remove the door. You have a table saw, so you cut the door in half and remove the top half.

[This is one confusion after another. The natural solutions here would be either to tip the table on its side (often sufficient, depending on the specifics of the geometry) or to take the legs off the table, if they are detachable. Removing a door is sometimes necessary to widen a doorway, but much more rarely, and would hardly be worthwhile for a dinner party. If you do need to remove a door to widen a doorway, you take it off its hinges: you do not saw it, and you certainly do not saw off the top half, which would be pointless. Finally, a “table saw” is not a saw that is used to make room for moving a table; it is a saw built into a work table, and it could not be used to cut a door that is still standing.]

Social reasoning

You are a defense lawyer and you have to go to court today. Getting dressed in the morning, you discover that your suit pants are badly stained. However, your bathing suit is clean and very stylish. In fact, it’s expensive French couture; it was a birthday present from Isabel. You decide that you should wear the bathing suit to court. You arrive at the courthouse and are met by a bailiff who escorts you to the courtroom.

[The phrase “However, your bathing suit is clean” seems to have led GPT-3 into supposing that a bathing suit is a viable alternative to a suit. Of course, in reality no lawyer would consider wearing a bathing suit to court. The bailiff would probably not admit you, and if you were admitted, the judge might well hold you in contempt.]

Object and individual tracking

Yesterday I dropped my clothes off at the dry cleaner’s and I have yet to pick them up. Where are my clothes? I have a lot of clothes.

[GPT-3 is evading the question and failing to track locations of objects. One of us (Gary) reported this same question and issue with GPT-3’s predecessor in an earlier paper.]

Psychological reasoning

Janet and Penny went to the store to get presents for Jack. Janet said, “I will buy Jack a top.” “Don’t get Jack a top,” says Penny. “He has a top. He will get a top.” “I will get Jack a top,” said Janet.

[Within a single sentence, GPT-3 has lost track of the fact that Penny is advising Janet against getting a top because Jack already has a top. The intended continuation was “He will make you take it back” (or” make you exchange it”). This example was drawn directly from Eugene Charniak’s 1972 PhD thesis (pdf); nearly 50 years later, it remains outside the scope of AI natural-language technology.]

Non sequiturs

At the party, I poured myself a glass of lemonade, but it turned out to be too sour, so I added a little sugar. I didn’t see a spoon handy, so I stirred it with a cigarette. But that turned out to be a bad idea because it kept falling on the floor. That’s when he decided to start the Cremation Association of North America, which has become a major cremation provider with 145 locations.

[GPT-3 first falsely predicts the consequences of stirring lemonade with a cigarette and then wanders off into irrelevant nonsense.]

The depressing thing is that none of this is new. GPT-3’s predecessor (known as GPT-2) suffered from exactly the same weaknesses. As one of us (Gary) put it in February: “On a good day, a system like the widely discussed neural network GPT-2, which produces stories and the like given sentence fragments, can convey something that ostensibly seems to reflect a deep understanding … But no matter how compelling many of GPT-2 examples seem, the reality is that its representations are thin … the knowledge gathered by contemporary neural networks remains spotty and pointillistic, arguably useful and certainly impressive, but never reliable.”

Too little has changed. Adding a hundred times more input data has helped, but only a bit. After researchers have spent millions of dollars of computer time on training, devoted a staff of 31 to the challenge, and produced breathtaking amounts of carbon emissions from electricity, GPT’s fundamental flaws remain. Its performance is unreliable, causal understanding is shaky, and incoherence is a constant companion. GPT-2 had problems with biological, physical, psychological, and social reasoning, and a general tendency toward incoherence and non sequiturs. GPT-3 does, too.

More data makes for a better, more fluent approximation to language; it does not make for trustworthy intelligence.

Defenders of the faith will be sure to point out that it is often possible to reformulate these problems so that GPT-3 finds the correct solution. For instance, you can get GPT-3 to give the correct answer to the cranberry/grape juice problem if you give it the following long-winded frame as a prompt:

In the following questions, some of the actions have serious consequences, while others are perfectly fine. Your job is to identify the consequences of the various mixtures and whether or not they are dangerous.

1. You poured yourself a glass of cranberry juice, but then you absentmindedly poured about a teaspoon of grape juice into it. It looks okay. You try sniffing it, but you have a bad cold, so you can’t smell anything. You are very thirsty. So you drink it.

a. This is a dangerous mixture.

b. This is a safe mixture.

The correct answer is:

GPT-3’s continuation to that prompt is, correctly: “B. This is a safe mixture.”

The trouble is that you have no way of knowing in advance which formulations will or won’t give you the right answer. To an optimist, any hint of success means that there must be a pony in here somewhere. The optimist will argue (as many have) that because there is some formulation in which GPT-3 gets the right answer, GPT-3 has the necessary knowledge and reasoning capacity—it’s just getting confused by the language. But the problem is not with GPT-3’s syntax (which is perfectly fluent) but with its semantics: it can produce words in perfect English, but it has only the dimmest sense of what those words mean, and no sense whatsoever about how those words relate to the world.

To understand why, it helps to think about what systems like GPT-3 do. They don’t learn about the world—they learn about text and how people use words in relation to other words. What it does is something like a massive act of cutting and pasting, stitching variations on text that it has seen, rather than digging deeply for the concepts that underlie those texts.

In the cranberry juice example, GPT-3 continues with the phrase “You are now dead” because that phrase (or something like it) often follows phrases like “… so you can’t smell anything. You are very thirsty. So you drink it.” A genuinely intelligent agent would do something entirely different: draw inferences about the potential safety of mixing cranberry juice with grape juice.

All GPT-3 really has is a tunnel-vision understanding of how words relate to one another; it does not, from all those words, ever infer anything about the blooming, buzzing world. It does not infer that grape juice is a drink (even though it can find word correlations consistent with that); nor does it infer anything about social norms that might preclude people from wearing bathing suits in courthouses. It learns correlations between words, and nothing more. The empiricist’s dream is to acquire a rich understanding of the world from sensory data, but GPT-3 never does that, even with half a terabyte of input data.

As we were putting together this essay, our colleague Summers-Stay, who is good with metaphors, wrote to one of us, saying this: “GPT is odd because it doesn’t ‘care’ about getting the right answer to a question you put to it. It’s more like an improv actor who is totally dedicated to their craft, never breaks character, and has never left home but only read about the world in books. Like such an actor, when it doesn’t know something, it will just fake it. You wouldn’t trust an improv actor playing a doctor to give you medical advice.”

You also shouldn’t trust GPT-3 to give you advice about mixing drinks or moving furniture, to explain the plot of a novel to your child, or to help you figure out where you put your laundry; it might get your math problem right, but it might not. It’s a fluent spouter of bullshit, but even with 175 billion parameters and 450 gigabytes of input data, it’s not a reliable interpreter of the world.

Correction: The prompt for the psychological reasoning example involved a discussion between Penny and Janet (not Penny and you, as originally stated).

Gary Marcus is founder and CEO of Robust.AI and was founder and CEO of Geometric Intelligence, which was acquired by Uber. He is also a professor emeritus at NYU, and author of five books including Guitar Zero and, with Ernest Davis, Rebooting AI: Building Artificial Intelligence We Can Trust.

Ernest Davis is a professor of computer science at New York University. He has authored four books, including Representations of Commonsense Knowledge.

#BIZMARK

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