i guess i write sometimes

i love rocky having no natural desire or drive for touch, and i love the thought of him developing one during the trip to erid. humans need touch and rocky will move heaven and earth to give grace whatever he needs.

i can see rocky coming to resent the xenonite barrier because the lack of direct contact hurts grace. getting frustrated with himself because he knows it's not rational and that grace is being stupid stupid whenever he bumps the panels and sighs that he wishes they weren't there. want grace rocky to die painful, question?! but even after he waves grace off he sits and ponders how to make the panels thinner, more flexible, pushing the limits of eridian technology.

i can see him starting to yearn for closeness so he can cure grace's "touch starvation." the form-fitting suit was built so nothing like what happened on adrian will ever happen again and so when the hail mary starts to complain about her old age he can patch her up. but of course the moment the suit's passed rocky's stress tests grace is throwing his arms around him and rocky has a long long long long long to-do list but he'd rather rip his carapace in half than end the hug a second before grace is full.

he doesn't care about touch. it does nothing for him and means nothing to him. touch is also the single most important problem he has to solve. eridians can make food, eridians can replicate earth, but eridians can never press their carapace against human flesh.

listening to grace waste away, listening to him curl up against the xenonite, listening to him trying to hide his tears as he warbles about how he wishes things were different makes him want to break through the airlock again.

touch has no significance to eridians, but rocky still scoots closer.

There are some obviously incorrect takes - “bear is the victim”, and some takes informed by personal trauma that I just personally, didn’t see in the film - “bear is a clear cut perpetrator”.

I’ve been thinking more about it and reading other people’s takes and on my initial watch I wanted to like bear. I liked that they didn’t portray him as actively malicious. I think it would have been too heavy handed if they did. The more I reflect on it, the more I see him as almost the embodiment of weaponized incompetence, only I think he’s so fucking oblivious he doesn’t even know he’s doing that.

I think he’s selfish, cowardly and kinda dumb but I also think HE fully believes he’s kind with good intentions. At the beginning he doesn’t think the wish is real and he seems genuinely concerned about taking advantage of Nikki, then he thinks things are good. Until they clearly aren’t.

I think reason it works is because in his mind he never set out to destroy or possess Nikki. I didn’t see bold-faced darkness until the “what’s so bad about being with me” scene. That’s the point where he can absolutely no longer deny it. And arguably maybe the phone call.

but once I figured it out!! yes, the entire universe outside of the ship is rotating every few seconds. and yes, if there's a bright star or planet nearby that would cause a very disorienting cycle between bright light and total dark. and that's just what life would be like there!!! no apologies, no mitigation, not even any direct explanation for the audience. they just made it real and accepted the consequences

look at this one:

if not friend why friend sha—

never mind

Shes just a fucking baby

you've grown to hate this place, this castle gifted to him for war victories. The halls are barren, the garden yet to bloom. The maids are pleasant, but they keep their distance, as if you'll strike. Maybe your husband is the kind to hit. You wouldn't know.

When he looks at you, it's only in short bursts, his eyes suddenly low. There's a long stretch of silence between you and you consider introducing yourself, but decide against it. He knows who you are.

"The maid is drawing me a bath," he says suddenly and a sick feeling pours over you. This day was always coming, but you aren't sure you're ready to lay under a stranger.

"Am I expected to join?" you ask and his nose crinkles.

"No." He steps back and away. His departure is brisk and driven. You retire for the night by yourself and awake alone. Your husband is set to leave again in a few hours; a few soldiers have already gathered in the front garden.

"Don't you wish to give your new wife a goodbye?" one asks, unaware of your open window. "One night and you've already had your fill? Or has she been filled too much?"

"I refuse to believe she is real!" says another. "What kind of woman has worn down our brute and turned him into a family man? Should we expect a gaggle of children in the upcoming year?"

Your husband growls. "You will leave the poor lamb alone. She suffers enough."

That softens you. Just a bit. You rise from you bed and go to the window, leaning out enough to catch the men's attention.

"Until next time."

He watches you, expression caught between more emotions that you can count, then turns his gaze back to his mount. The two men share a look, wide, wide grins on their faces.

(he must have lovers, you imagine. He hasn't touched you; he must be getting his fill with women in other cities, maybe women he actually loves. these are trinkets to keep his wife amused while she wastes away.)

none of the gifts come with a note.

one day a bolt of fabric arrives, yellow and ornate. It's only a small amount, not enough to make a dress, but enough for you to unravel and admire. It's beautiful and clearly expensive, golden threads woven into flowers and vines. Your father was a silk merchant; while you never wore the silks, you can recognize their quality.

the following week, the delicious man rides up on his steeds and presents a letter. The handwriting is rough. Knights that come from the lower class do not have the schooling of highborns; as fair as you know, your husband was born a street rat and worked his way theough the ranks to glory.

-I have been told by my secund that I did not send you enuf fabric for a gown. I do not no these things.

The spelling mistakes screw a smile out of you.

"Wait a moment." You stop the boy before he can leave. "I wish to send something back."

You take your time and use your finest calligraphy, tucking your note in with a handkerchief you had spent the week on. It's fine work-- one that would please even the hardest of hearts.

-Dearest husband,

Please take this handkerchief as a sign of my thoughts.

Your patient and thoughtful wife

A second letter arrives within the week.

-are you cros with me? A scrap of fabric for a scrap of fabric?

The response is what makes you cross. The poor messenger boy has to stay the night while you percolate over a response.

-Dearest, sweetest husband,

A handkerchief is a traditional gesture of affection. I have embroidered the edges by hand, with your last name and your roses, and it smells of my perfume. It is a piece of me for you to carry. If you do not appreciate my kindness or if you think it will turn away your lovers, you may return it. I do not wish it wasted on you.

Your less than patient and less than adoring wife

The poor boy scatters off in the morning and returns a few days later.

tortured wife,

I wil cherish it. I am sory, pour lam. I wil do better.

materialist crystal shop: these crystals will make you feel better because they're a cool part of nature and pretty to look at :)