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If Jane Austen wrote Star Trek:

Spock, the first officer whose advice was always effectual, possessed a strength of understanding, and coolness of judgement, which qualified him to be the counselor of the ship’s captain, and enabled him frequently to counteract, to the advantage of them all, that eagerness of mind in Captain Kirk which must generally have lead to imprudence. Spock had an excellent heart, positioned somewhere near his kidneys; his feelings were strong, but he knew how to govern them: it was a knowledge which his captain had yet to learn, and which one of his fellow crew members had resolved never to learn.

Dr. Leonard McCoy’s abilities were, in many respects, equal to Spock’s. He was sensible and clever; but eager in every thing; his sorrows, his joys, could have no moderation. He was generous, amiably cynical, interesting: he was everything but logical.

People who ship male characters who have never interacted and shit on male/female ships (and the female characters in them) with actual chemistry are so frustrating

Because, yes, I get that hetronomativity is a bad thing. But at a certain point it stops being pro gay and starts being anti women. Of course female characters don’t need dudes, but wanting one  to have a happy and fulfilling relationship isn’t  a bad thing. And so much of fandom is focused on romance that it just becomes another way to exclude women.    

Happy Pokémon Day! Here is my favorite first gen Pokémon, Jolteon! I remember would collect so many Jolteon things as a kid and it made my mother mad.. lol! Many happy memories growing up with this great franchise!

“I don’t think this is supposed to happen during the summoning…”

Recently gave into my gacha addiction and decided to download the FE:Heroes app and feel in love with this dragon boy who carries my team half the time I play

My Brother. My Captain. My King.

I want to talk for a little bit about Final Fantasy XV.

I grew up with this franchise. I’ve played most of the games in the series. I’ve beaten about half of them. Final Fantasy XIV, the rebooted version, has 980 hours clocked in on my Steam library.

I’m a fan. I’m a veteran. I’ve loved this series of games since I was a kid.

So you can imagine, I think, how torturous the wait was for XV to come out. That painful, agonizing decade of waiting. To finally hear the release date last year, probably one of the only things that made 2016 tolerable, only to have it delayed.

I have never looked forward to a game like I looked forward to this one. I was so excited.

And then it came out.

… If I were like a great number of people who played this game at launch, you might expect me to talk about how disappointing it was to see what this game became. You might expect me to talk about how much potential was lost. How it betrayed me. How we deserved better. But I’m not going to do that. One, I don’t agree with any of that. I think this game is wonderful. But more importantly. I cannot, in good conscience, add on to the criticism.

Because Final Fantasy XV gave me something, gave me someone, that no other game has ever given me.

I was born with Cerebral Palsy. I’m sure a lot of people following this blog of mine are aware of that. My case is minor, in the grand scheme of things. I have what’s called spastic diplegia. What this means, in simple terms, is that my muscles don’t quite work the way they’re supposed to. My left side is substantially weaker than my right, particularly my legs. I don’t have hip sockets. I do have scoliosis, though. My balance is shot, I have the knees of an old man. I use a cane for long distances, crutches for longer distances, and a wheelchair when neither of those options work anymore.

I didn’t grow up with heroes to look up to. I didn’t have anyone who shared my struggles on TV, or in my games. No movies, no cartoons, no books. Cerebral Palsy was something I talked about with my doctors, and my therapists, and my family. That’s it.

I didn’t get to see somebody like me be the hero. I didn’t get to feel like I could save the world. I grew up feeling alone, even though I was surrounded by people who loved me and supported me, because who understood me?

… Well.

In a lot of the promotional material for Final Fantasy XV, the Brotherhood anime, the Kingsglaive movie, even flashbacks in the main game, you see young Noctis, the game’s protagonist, in a wheelchair. 

And in the game proper, when Noctis is grown up and going on his journey, if you pay close attention to how he runs, you might notice that he favors one leg over the other. This is particularly noticeable if you run him out of stamina and he has to stop to catch his breath. One of his outfits even sports a knee brace.

Noctis Lucis Caelum, the main character of a numbered Final Fantasy game, has a permanent injury. A permanent disability.

Does he have Cerebral Palsy? No. Is it particularly noticeable? Not unless you’re paying attention. Was it even deliberate? I have no idea. But considering my options, I honestly don’t care.

Noctis is a hero with a disability. Noctis is setting out to save his home, to reclaim his throne … with a disability. Finally, after 30 years on this earth, I can look at someone in one of these games, in one of my favorite franchises of all time, and say:

“I know what that feels like.”

Finally, I can look at the main fucking character of a videogame and see myself.

I do not, and never will, have the words for how much that means to me. How long I have been waiting for something, anything, like this.

Is Final Fantasy XV perfect? No. It has its flaws. And for plenty of people, those flaws are deal-breakers. I don’t dispute that. I will never silence anyone for that. But … but this game. This game made me cry. This game filled a void. This game healed a wound I didn’t even know I had.

Thank you, Square Enix. Thank you, Hajime Tabata. Thank you, Tetsuya Nomura. Thank you, Takuma Harada. Thank you, Tatsuhisa Suzuki. Thank you, Ray Chase.

Thank you, Noctis Lucis Caelum.

My God. Thank you so much.

There was absolutely zero excuse or reason for those bloggers and critics to have been attacking Zack Snyder with the extreme vitriol that they were then, and there is absolutely zero excuse or reason now. Let it sink in that bloggers were just making jokes about Zack’s dead mother, were saying he deserves bad things to happen to him, saying that the man who runs the DCEU beside his wife, always praises women and expresses the importance of mothers as a focal point throughout the DCEU, hates women. Let it sink in that while he was dealing with the suicide of his daughter, one popular blogger unrepentantly made a claim (later saying it was a joke) that he hates his dead mother, who he is still to this day heartbroken over, who he credits as his hero.

Those bloggers and critics who go to that extreme inhumane length, because Zack’s only crime in their eyes was not making superheroes joke every second, because he was uncompromising in the themes he set up in the franchise. He never hurt anyone. He doesn’t abuse his actresses. He doesn’t degrade female characters or women irl for fun, and doesn’t give up on actors at their lowest. His only crime was being his own storyteller and doing what is his own right- being a director. And instead of these bloggers leaving it be, they chose to hound this man for years.

This man knew they would use his daughter’s suicide as another jab to create false narratives about Justice League, the DCEU, and the man his self. His words. He knew that there would be articles falsely blasting him continuously so he grieved privately and only just released the statement now that Joss will be handling post-production of Justice League. Again, this man’s tragic loss of his daughter by suicide, has to be officially announced because bloggers would take advantage of the situation to be disgusting as usual. That’s on y'all’s conscious. Not whiney trolls in the comments section but you actual popular bloggers and critics who sit on your keyboards acting holier than thou and senseless over comic books and movies.

Make it a lesson to dial back the vitriol altogether. Remember he is only just a man making films. He’s not a monster or a robot with no feelings. You don’t have to like his work, you don’t even have to pretend to like his work for the sake of faux concern suddenly. But what you can do is be quiet. Stop the cruel nonsense. Do better. Be better. And while you are at it, you can consider mental health and what you can do to promote it instead of trying to get likes and clicks by contributing to bandwagon hate because that’s what’s “in” these days.

Through the International Liaison Program, NYPD detectives are now stationed in 13 cities around the globe, from Paris to Amman to Sydney. If you’re surprised that New York City would have flatfoots permanently operating on the majority of Earth’s continents, you aren’t alone. When bombs went off in Bali in 2005, Indonesian police were understandably “astonished and irritated that the NYPD showed up.”

But officers of the International Liaison Program are setting up NYPD franchises like Starbucks, all to ask the New York Question. No, not “Which is the real Original Famous Rays?” The other one: “Did New York come up anywhere in this investigation?” And since it’s a city of 8.5 million people from 200 countries speaking over 140 languages, that happens more often than you might think.

Sending a few sworn members overseas for a little proactive collaboration and information-sharing makes good sense, but is typically something a nation would do, not a single city. Shouldn’t federal agencies be taking care of stuff like that? The FBI certainly thinks so; their own involvement in foreign affairs has actually resulted in a bizarre rivalry, with G Men and cops butting heads in a “testosterone rich” turf war. Somewhere in Shanghai, an NYPD officer is arguing with an FBI agent over who has jurisdiction. Imagine how confused the Chinese cops are.

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