#right so basically this is an 'elliot left' story but where instead of never speaking to each other again

[the-chickenshit-oddity]

svu prompt

canon divergence where after eli's birth, the stablers make olivia his godmother. soon-ish after, they disappear (kathy or elliot or both) so olivia ends up halfway adopted into the stabler family by the kids because they need someone, and it takes them a while to get used to everyone else. and then, whoever disappeared shows up again.

[lemonz-and-limez]

Grief- Year Two

A/N: This is a sequel to this story which I posted about a year ago. That story was written right before the anniversary of a death in my family, and with another death looming over my family's head I couldn't stop thinking about writing this. So, here we are.

NOTE: It's obviously sad, dealing with death and grief.

Sheldon gently swayed back and forth on the tire swing in the backyard of his childhood home. It was late in the afternoon, the sun beginning to set in the sky. The heat was borderline unbearable, but Sheldon couldn't be bothered to notice. He simply stared ahead, disassociated from reality, and stuck with his own mind.

It was two years to the day since he'd lost MeeMaw. 730 days without her. So many months, weeks, and days without hearing her voice over the phone. So many seconds where she didn't call him Moonpie. And yet, the ache in his heart felt dull now. It wasn't as sharp and stinging. He couldn't feel every excruciating breath he took nearly as much as he had in the days following her death. Like any chronic pain, it had its flair ups, but they were becoming few and far between as of late.

And that scared him. Did that mean he was slowly forgetting MeeMaw? When would be the day he would remember her for the last time? He didn't want to ever let her memory die; she was too special for him to do that. But as the pain of her loss lessened, Sheldon wondered if he was a bad person for moving on with his life. Without her. Without his MeeMaw.

He and Amy just had their first child four months ago. This trip to Texas was the first time Mary and the rest of the family met his son. As Amy had handed Elliot over to Sheldon's mother for the first time, she uttered, "go say hi to your, MeeMaw." Mary had cried. But Sheldon came to a very distinct and terrifying realization.

He hadn't thought of his grandmother since he held his newborn in the hospital just moments after being born. Four whole months had gone by, and her memory didn't even cross his mind. Those fleeting seconds as he observed his son, the beautiful creation he and Amy had made together, were all he allowed his grandmother to have. She deserved better from him. After everything MeeMaw did for Sheldon, and he was forgetting her only two years after her passing.

She would have been so proud of him… bringing a child into the world. She would have been over the moon and would have told him so over their weekly phone chats. MeeMaw never got to do that. She never got to look at Elliot the way that Mary did as she held him for the first time. She wouldn't get to beam with pride as he did with Amy every time she handled their son with so much care. On the second anniversary of her death, that saddened him more than anything.

Sheldon heavily sighed as a gust of wind blew through his hair. How he wished he could have heard MeeMaw tell him she was proud. He couldn't think of anything he wouldn't do for her to meet Elliot.

He then did something that he hadn't done for his grandmother in a long time. He cried over her absence. He let the emotion course through his body and spill out of his tear ducts. How had he survived for so long without her? How was he continuing to survive without her?

Reasonably he knew why. He had Amy and all of his friends. And now he had a whole new little person who he was responsible for. His child brought him joy every day, even when it didn't seem like joy was possible. All of these people in his life, and yet he still missed his MeeMaw as if she had just died the day before. Sure, he didn't think about her that often anymore, but deep down, continuously, he missed her.

Perhaps he would never stop missing her. Even after he thought about her for the last time. Maybe it would just get easier as life carried on, and his grandmother's life got washed away with time. Sheldon couldn't be sure. He was so confused. Remembering and missing someone seemed so intertwined, so how could he do one but not the other?

Frustrated, he wiped away his now angry tears with his sleeve. Why? Was the only thing left for him to figure out, and he was usually good with the why questions. Sheldon rested his chin on top of the rubber tire as the silent, irate tears continued to stream down his face.

He watched Amy open the sliding glass door to the house and step outside. He watched her pull her loose cardigan tighter around her body as she crossed the yard over to him.

"Hey," she greeted worriedly. "You've been out here a long time, how are you doing?"

Sheldon's voice was failing him. He knew he would just cry harder if he tried to speak. Instead, he answered her with a pathetic shrug.

Amy reached out and ran her fingers through his hair. "Do you want to talk about it? Or would you like me to leave you alone?"

He shook his head lightly. "I don't know what I want," he whispered, barely audible.

"That's ok. You don't have to if you don't want to," Amy told him, moving to stand behind him so she could gently massage his shoulders.

Her touch brought him back to that early morning two years ago. When she had lightly tapped him in the same spot and broke down the last of his walls. How he had melted into her comforting hug at nearly three am. Those very same floodgates that she had opened up that day, the ones he had spent every day trying to close, opened again. Sheldon shook against the swing, the heavy-hitting grief for MeeMaw punching him once more.

Angry that he had forgotten her.

Sad that he would never stop missing her.

Confused because he couldn't differentiate the two.

Without even realizing it, Amy had managed to get him out of the swing somehow. Now, instead of lifeless, hot, rubber, he was sobbing into his wife's shoulder.

Just like she had that day in the hospital courtyard.

Amy, his pillar of strength, the woman who picked him up when the world seemed to be fighting against him. She was holding him tightly now, in his childhood back yard, carefully putting him back together as he fell apart in her arms.

"I shouldn't be this upset," Sheldon muttered after his sobs dwindled back into silent tears and residue. "She died two years ago, I should be moving on."

Amy pulled back from him, her eyes staring intensely into his. She held his face in between her hands. "You get to be upset by it anytime you want, Sheldon," Amy said forcefully. "There is no set timeline here."

"I didn't even remember it was the anniversary until you called Mom' MeeMaw'," Sheldon confessed. "How could I forget, Amy? I can't forget her." He sounded scared even to his own ears.

"You're not!" Amy took a step closer to him. "You'll never forget her, Sheldon, you just won't think about her as often. That's grief. Eventually, her memory will fade, and you will think about her less. But that doesn't mean you're forgetting about her. That just means that life is continuing to move on. As painful as it is, it's moving on without her."

Sheldon nodded to that, his breathing heavy and uneven once more. He couldn't bring himself to talk.

"I think about her too, Sheldon. I thought about her a lot right after she died, but it's less now. I thought about her when Elliot was born; I'm sure you did too. She would have loved him," Amy sniffled, her own eyes looking watery now.

Sheldon smiled bittersweetly. "She would have been so proud of me."

Amy wiped his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs, smiling and nodding in agreement. "She would have, Sheldon," she said as the first of her tears began to fall. "I know what she meant to you, Sheldon. And I know the way I miss her is completely different from yours. But, please remember, you're not dishonoring her legacy by simply living your life. Imagine how sad you would be if you thought about her all the time; she wouldn't have wanted that for you. She would want you to be there for your family,… for your son."

"Our son," Sheldon corrected with a smile.

Amy's eyes twinkled at that. "Our son. You're an amazing father, Sheldon, and MeeMaw would be so proud of that. I am proud of that. But your actions remember her better than your thoughts do."

"What?" Sheldon was perplexed. "I don't understand."

"She taught you so much about humanity and feelings. She taught you basic life skills that you use every day. Doing those things and treating people the way she taught you how to treat people is unconsciously remembering her every day. In the future, you're going to teach Elliot those very same lessons. Whether he likes it or not, he will be carrying on what she left behind without even realizing it."

Sheldon pondered that for a moment. "So, in a way, I'll never really forget her then?"

"Exactly. You don't have to think about her every day to remember her. It's ok to move on, Sheldon. Don't ever feel guilty about living your life."

With her hands still holding his face, Amy pulled him down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Touched by the tender gesture, Sheldon held onto her wrists. Savoring the feel of her lips against his skin.

When she pulled back, Amy took his hands in her own. "I am still here to help you, Sheldon," she reminded him. "That will never change. If you want to talk about something, all you have to do is ask."

"Thank you, Amy… I love you."

She gave him that goofy smile every time he said that. "I love you too. Now let's get inside, your mother told me she made MeeMaw's apple pie!"

As Amy led them back to the house, Sheldon finally found like he had found some inner peace. He would miss his MeeMaw every day, without fail. But he wouldn't remember her every day. The memory of her lived on through unconscious actions and habits that she had taught him. Life would continue on, but he would still carry her lessons with him. Lessons he would one day pass on to his own son.

As painful as it was to begin to move on, Sheldon knew he had to. He was happy, and that's all MeeMaw ever wanted.

For now, on the second anniversary of her death, knowing that MeeMaw would be happy with the person he had become was enough for him.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading *love*

[fortunatelylori]

1/2 Hi! I really liked your review of Sanditon ep. 7! I wanted to ask for your thoughts about the Heraclitus comment but the conversation around it. I agree Sidney absolutely did not intend to insult Charlotte, but Eliza turned it into an insult and the rest of the party (except Lady Susan) all laughed at Charlotte's expense. And it cut to Charlotte's insecurity about not fitting in with the London crowd, which we also saw at the ball in ep. 6.

2/2 But while at the ball Sidney told her “not to doubt” herself and “you’re more than equal to any woman here,” in ep. 7, he doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t say anything reassuring either when he catches up with her. He only says he hopes she wasn’t she wasn’t offended by Mrs. Campion, and that it was all “in jest.” He clearly meant well, but that’s the worst thing to say to someone who is clearly hurt and upset by said “jest.” And he didn’t reassure her, which hurt as well. What do you think?

Hi! Sorry this turned into a 3/3. I would have really liked to see more of Sidney and Eliza, especially after her behavior toward Charlotte. Because we know Sidney doesn’t agree with her assessment of Charlotte, but not if he said anything about it to Eliza. I wish we had seen their last conversation! We know so little about their story. Did he realize how mean she actually is and how her behavior was inappropriate?

Hey, nonnie!

Thank you! Glad you enjoyed my review.

 I wanted to ask for your thoughts about the Heraclitus comment but the conversation around it.

Oh, good! We get to talk about my current favorite subject: Sidney Parker. You have unleashed the cracken, nonnie! Get your tea, biscuits, sausages or whatever and strap in. This is going to be a loooooong one!

I actually thought it would be interesting to try and analyze Sidney throughout this episode because, as I said, the narrative choice of making Eliza’s reappearance all about Charlotte’s unrequited love drama has robbed us of some insight into Sidney. For all intents and purposes Eliza was his plot, not Charlotte’s and it’s a shame Davies didn’t explore it. 

That being said, I do think that enough was given in order to create a pretty clear picture of what Sidney was going through if you are willing to look more in depth. And let’s face it, we’re all willing since we’re spending inordinate amounts of time watching these scenes.

Btw, I’m at my 87th rewatch of the dance scene. Anyone else keeping score? And speaking of that glorious tv moment to be treasured for all time, that’s where our clue hunt must start. In this particular moment to be precise:

This is the genesis, the big bang if you will of Sidney’s crisis and the word that can describe him from this moment on is: CONFUSION! Sidney spends the entirety of episode 7 in a state of confusion.

You can see it in this moment above. He goes from complete calm decisiveness in regards to what he feels for Charlotte and what he wants from her to completely losing the plot in a matter of seconds when faced with the return of Eliza Campion.

Look at him! I don’t think we’ve ever seen Sidney this flustered. And the way he walks towards her, like a moth to the flame? In an instant it’s very clear just how much he must have loved this woman and that, for the time being, he’s forgotten all about Charlotte.

There is a brief moment where he remembers her that will be echoed in episode 7, when he brings Eliza to Tom’s house:

Episode 6: 

Episode 7: 

Theo James is really bringing his A game to these micro expressions because you can see very clearly that Sidney hesitates and also feels a bit uncomfortable having Charlotte see him with Eliza. He is, however, spellbound by Eliza in the London scene:

Incidentally we will never see Sidney this happy in her presence again. On the subject of micro expressions, I would like to draw your attention to this smile Theo James does over and over again. It’s almost a tic at this point:

Once you see it, you can’t really unsee it. This is the face Sidney does every time he doesn’t actually want to say what’s on his mind and it’s his way of keeping people at arm’s length. The reason why this is important is that he has this expression in every single scene he shares with Eliza:

Beach scene: 

Boatus interruptus: 

Tent of doom: 

The don’t make me do this scene: 

He’s also pretty much retired this expression when talking to Charlotte, instead hitting her with the irresistible combination of:

and …

My guess is Eliza didn’t see those pearly whites once during her whole stay in Sanditon.

So, given all of this distant body language, why is Sidney confused to begin with? Clearly Charlotte makes him happy while Eliza makes him indifferent at best and unpleasantly surprised at worst (we’ll get to that).

In order to answer that, we need to pay a little attention to this line Sidney says, during his scene with his brothers:

Sidney: It is a strange feeling. You’ve wanted something impossible for so long and suddenly it’s within your grasp.

If we were to do an exercise of imagination, we could go back in time to a young Sidney Parker. What would he have been like? I would argue he wouldn’t be all that dissimilar to Charlotte. Basically a happy, go lucky kind of guy who grew up in a loving family. Or as Eleanor Tilney in Northanger Abbey would put it, a person with a dangerous upbringing. 

Sidney grew up thinking that the world was a basically wonderful place and everyone was “as pure of heart”as he. With the romantic notions of a young man, he fell in love with the pretty and witty Eliza and perhaps turned a blind eye to her more disagreeable traits. That was until those traits hit him right in the emotions organ and she left him to marry an older, richer man.

I don’t think it can be understated just how cruelly Eliza behaved. This isn’t Anne Elliot refusing Fredrick Wentworth’s proposal because she’s a young girl who’s a little too trusting when it comes to the adults in her life. This is a girl who knowingly strung Sidney along, through an engagement, only to leave him in the dust the moment a more “appealing” option came along.

Despite all of this, Sidney isn’t angry at her (supposedly at least). Moreover, he admits to having dreamed about their reunion for years. Usually when you dream about getting back with someone who showed so little care for you it’s because you’ve idealized them in your head and you probably remember that relationship through rose colored glasses.

That’s why Arthur is truly the genius of the Parker family. Just look at this smooth motherfucker smashing those glasses of delusion:

Arthur: Do you know that for years all I knew about my brother Sidney was that he was driven to the West Indies with a broken heart?

He instinctively understands that if he were to outright tell Sidney that getting back with the woman who used his heart for minced meat, that would make his brother dismiss him immediately. Instead he gently reminds him of  the pain she caused. Which still elicits a defensive answer from Sidney:

Sidney: And what is your point, Arthur?

So in his very jovial, kind way, Arthur kicks Sidney right in the feeling nuts:

Arthur: I admire your spirit of forgivness. That is all. If it were me, I do not think I could bring myself to trust her again.

Still, Arthur’s intervention can only go so far. Sidney’s wanted to be with Eliza for so long … How could he help himself from being in her company when given the opportunity?

Well actually he can help himself quite easily …

Coming back to the whole topic that you were talking about, we need to separate Sidney’s actions from Sidney’s words because his failure to understand himself is displayed in this marked difference. 

Let me give you an example: Sidney says he’s wanted Eliza for a long time. But how does Eliza Campion get to Sanditon? Does Sidney bring her, eager to have her near him?

No … Sidney doesn’t bring her because Sidney left London after the ball and is now spending his time waiting for Charlotte in Mrs. Griffith’s drawing room. Eliza gets to Sanditon on her own, surrounded by her minions. And this creates a trend throughout the episode, where Sidney might be talking about Eliza but seeks Charlotte out every chance he gets and it’s actually Eliza that is pursuing him.

Sidney’s true confusion doesn’t even really come from having to choose between Charlotte and Eliza but rather because he can’t get his mind around the fact that he is no longer in love with the woman that has occupied his thoughts for years. He’s carried her around with him for so long that now that she’s here and available, he can’t really grasp why he’s no longer interested.

It must be because:

Sidney: I haven’t picked up an oar in years.

Or because

Sidney: I had convinced myself that I was destined to remain alone. That I was ill suited for matrimony.

These series of excuses go on and on throughout his interactions with Eliza because what Sidney really loved was the way he had loved her and not Eliza herself. And that idyllic image of what might have been is shuttered by reality because:

Sidney: A man cannot step into the same river twice.

Charlotte: For he is not the same man and it is not the same river.

How fitting it is that it’s Charlotte who finishes this quote for him. Because in Eliza and Charlotte, Sidney has the opportunity to either go back and relive the what might have been or go forward and live the what can be. To go back means to try and be the same man on the same river. To go forward means to leap into the unknown with someone new.

What does Sidney do?

Might I just point out that if he wanted to balance the boat he could have invited Eliza? But he doesn’t … He might not be ready to admit it, even to himself, but only Charlotte can truly balance his boat.

However things don’t end up coming to a head until the tent scene. That’s because the last stage after releasing yourself from someone you used to be attached to is to see them for what they truly are. To discover the chink in their armor to quote Lady Susan. And boy, does Eliza wreck her freaking armor!

Did he realize how mean she actually is and how her behavior was inappropriate?

Of course he did. He actually realizes it much sonner than you’d think.

Eliza: There must be a boy in your village that’s caught your eye.

That’s not a happy face.

Also it’s very important to note that when Sidney says Charlotte would be happier reading a book, he doesn’t actually say that even though that’s what she understands. What he says is exactly this:

Sidney: I have no doubt Charlotte would rather be sat somewhere, quietly reading Heraclitus.

If he had said anything else, then it might be debatable whether or not he was making a joke at her expense but because he mentions Heraclitus in particular, this becomes his attempt at bonding with her, one outlier to another.

He doesn’t say anything reassuring either when he catches up with her. He only says he hopes she wasn’t she wasn’t offended by Mrs. Campion, and that it was all “in jest.” He clearly meant well, but that’s the worst thing to say to someone who is clearly hurt and upset by said “jest.” And he didn’t reassure her, which hurt as well. What do you think? 

I get how from Charlotte’s point of view she feels hurt by his lack of reassurance and by feeling like she’s a “source of amusement” for him. But you know …. Charlotte’s in the whole “I’m just a girl standing in front of a boy …”phase. She’s not thinking all that clearly.

Sidney runs after her because he realizes she’s upset and tries to comfort her. But I don’t think it’s reasonable to expect him to understand why she’s upset. I’d argue most people have the source of her sadness wrong.

Eliza isn’t the first person to make jokes regarding Charlotte’s marriage prospects. Lady Denham did the same thing to her in episode 1 and 2. Only Lady Denham was far harsher and rudder about it. And Charlotte wasn’t the least bit upset. She responded in kind and, in Lady Denham’s own words, “couldn’t help but stand up for herself”.

She doesn’t do it with Eliza because what’s causing her pain isn’t the lame ass attempt at making jokes about her not finding a husband. What’s truly hurting her is that Sidney is revealing something personal to the two of them to this woman that, in Charlotte’s mind, has made it impossible for her to ever be with him. She feels exposed, vulnerable and insecure.

When Sidney runs after her, trying to comfort her, there’s truly only one thing Charlotte wants to hear:

Charlote: What is it you want from me?

That’s something Sidney can’t answer at that time. He can’t really formulate what he wants from her because he’s just coming out of the whole Eliza spell and is himself uncertain about what Charlotte may or may not be feeling for him.

However, as I said, at this point his words are less important than his actions and given the sequence of events, it’s pretty obvious that the tent scene is the last time he is actually in Eliza’s company until she seeks him out at the end of the episode. So he might not have found the words to reassure Charlotte but he made certain he taxed Eliza for hurting her.

And when Eliza finally does track him down, what’s the first thing he tells her?

Sidney: You know, you didn’t have to wait for me.

Well … color me swooning. What girl doesn’t dream of hearing that?

I truly wish they had given us this complete scene because I really wanted to see how he would resolve this chapter of his life but given that she says this:

Eliza: The truth is now that I have found you again, I can scarcely bring myself to let you out of my sight. (beat) You know I never lost hope that we would stand besides each other once more and here we are! Fate has gifted us a second chance.

And he looks like this:

I’m willing to bet Eliza’s minions wasted all of their handkerchiefs on her on the coach ride back to London.

Which leaves us with:

Sidney:  [Mrs. Campion] has already left. I decided against joining her. On reflection, I realized I would rather be here. I am a great deal less than perfect. You’ve made me all too aware of that. But, for whatever it’s worth, I believe I am my best self, my truest self, when I’m with you.

Sidney’s words finally match his actions. He chooses to go forward as the man he is now, wanting the woman that’s in front of him and not as the boy he used to be, chasing the dream of the girl that never was. Because …

A man cannot step into the same river twice. For he is not the same man and it is not the same river.

Thanks for the ask!

[cassatine]

Why don't you like Jordan Peterson? What did he ever do to you?

Oooh boy. I’d redirect you to the Ressource Page on him I already posted a link to, where you can find much better analyses than I can provide, as well as much documentation on the things he has to say – but I suppose that’s not what you’re asking for.

(I wish you hadn’t asked. I’ve seen the kind of harassment sent to people who criticize Peterson. But you did, so here comes A Rant.)

To start with: what he did or didn’t do to me, specifically, is irrelevant. To illustrate that point – let’s say your school has two bullies. One of them bullies you, the other doesn’t and instead targets other people. Is this second bully more likeable because he leaves you alone? Or is this second bully as dislikeable as the one who does bully you? Are they any less of a bully because you escape their attention?

It’s not about what Peterson did to me, it’s about the ideas he advocates for, the way he profits from his followers, the harm he does other people, his bad scholarship – and more importantly, the fact that he is a gateway to the alt-right for many. He’s replied to this specific concern, for example here, by saying he does not support the alt-right, that he’s in fact stopped many on their path to it. “Read the comments on my videos,” he says, before deflecting by launching in a tirade against comments criticizing him.

I did read the comments and certainly there is some, ahem, strongly-worded criticism from people of all political stripes, but there’s also a bunch of people advocating for a white ethnostate, among other niceties. Peterson’s followers do not all belong to the alt-right, just as not everyone in the alt-right likes him.

But if we step outside his YT channel, there’s an incredible number of reposted videos, on all kinds of channels. Some are mocking: “here’s Peterson speaking nonsense as usual.” Some are very much alt-right channels, and thanks to the magic of YT algorithms, the more those are watched, the more you’re proposed videos by more extreme people. Stepping away from YT altogether, and delving into alt-right and manosphere forums and sites, links to Peterson’s videos are not a rare occurrence.

And yet, he does not believe he has been co-opted by the alt-right to any significant degree.

I find the claim dubious (and the formulation interesting – “any significant degree”). I find the fact that he pretty much always deflects to his bête noire, the left “far more gripped by totalitarian spirit” than the rest of the political spectrum (and yes, that includes the alt-right) even more dubious. Not only the claim itself, but the way Peterson uses it to turn the tables. ‘I don’t think I was co-opted by the alt-right,’ he says, ‘and anyway the real problem is the totalitarian left.’

Polarization is also a problem, he says, and that I can easily agree with. I can also agree with the idea that having conversations with people who hold very different views is a good thing, and that for this to happen one must be prepared to listen.

I do, however, doubt that Peterson is himself prepared to listen. He has shown many times that he rejects any and all criticism, instead explaining it away as coming from the ‘totalitarian left’ and rooted in Cultural Marxism© – basically framing it as invalid. To have the kind of conversation he speaks of, both sides must be prepared to make concessions, to agree to disagree, to accept one might not see the full picture, and yes, to accept that one might be wrong on some points. You can’t have this kind of conversation with someone who wants to win, with someone who deeply, absolutely believes they know better, and that anyway the other side is a problem, and not a small one, nope, more the kind that will lead civilization to its doom and also the gulag.

I did listen. I read much criticism of Peterson, but I also listened to his videos, I read some of his stuff, and I do not believe he is the listening type. I’m pretty sure I could never have an actual conversation with him, for a very simple reason: he would consider me a Cultural Marxist©, a member of the oh-so-dangerous totalitarian left – and reject everything I might say on these grounds.  

The notion of Cultural Marxism© in fact allows him to brush away much of the criticism directed at his ideas: if someone were, say, to criticize his unfalsifiable claim that “Faith in God is a prerequisite for all proof” by arguing that’s it’s built on a deep misunderstanding of Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorem, then he’d just have to argue it’s the critic that misunderstand Gödel because Cultural Marxism©. If someone were to say Jordan Peterson Doesn’t Understand Nazism, and actually has his facts wrong on the matter then that critic would be the one not understanding because Cultural Marxism©. If someone were to say Peterson didn’t even understand what Canada’s Bill C-16 entailed, it wouldn’t be because they actually understood the bill, but because Cultural Marxism©. If someone were to say he’s wrong about the pay gap – well, you can guess.

(There is another reason why Peterson Is Never Wrong, and that’s because his usual argumentative strategy is never actually saying what it is he means, which means he can always fall back on being misunderstood and misinterpreted. If someone were to say his comments on “enforced monogamy” amount to a careful defence of natalist policies, and go so far as to reference those totalitarian regimes he says he is fascinated and revulsed by with, say, the Lebensborn program and the Bund Deutscher Mädel, or Decree 770 – well, he’d just have to say that’s not what he advocates for. Of course it’s not. He just circles around the notion, and if our someone were to mention things that happened, things that were documented, things Peterson will never talk about because women have never been oppressed, not ever – well, that’s an undue, unfair parallel; from him to the Lebensborn, there is after all quite a stretch. Although I don’t see how it’s a more unlikely one than, say, “using gender-neutral pronouns will lead to the gulag.”

Probably because Cultural Marxism©.)

And let’s be real, it’d be hard for me to have a productive conversation with someone who buys into Cultural Marxism© in any case – especially when they describe themselves as fascinated and revulsed by totalitarianism. For someone who has so much to say (and much that is factually wrong) about Nazism, Peterson seems strangely unaware that Cultural Marxism© is nothing but the contemporary version of Cultural Bolshevism©, and that it’s most dear to… the alt-right.

Peterson appeals to some portions of the alt-right because much of what he has to say is eerily similar to their own arguments: the destructive, doom-leading influence of Cultural Marxism©, obviously; intelligence differences having a biological (ie racial) basis; the naturalness of hierarchies dominated by white men; most if not any of his statements on The Woman Problem, etc.

The alt-right, however, has solutions for all these problems, and that’s where the love story stops. Peterson does not give solutions. He will tell you that society’s refusal to acknowledge biology-rooted differences in intelligence is a problem, a big one, an enormous one, and he will stop there. He will tell you that what women really want is to be dominated, that they are socialized to believe otherwise, that it’s wrong, and he might go so far as to propose that the solution to the Elliot Rodger and Alek Minassian of the world might just be enforced monogamy, but he will not advocate for it directly. And because he doesn’t take that last, seemingly logical step, some on the alt-right hate him. He is a traitor to the cause, a sell-out.

Does it matter whether Peterson is affiliated to or worried by the alt-right? Maybe, maybe not. Maybe we should in fact focus on other things. Like the fact that he is not afraid of a little lie, like that time he pretended to have been inducted in a First Nation tribe – a relatively common tactic: “i’ve been inducted in (x)”, “some of my ancestors were (x)”, “some of my followers are (x)” is frequently used as a way to shield oneself from criticism coming either from members of (x) or criticism addressing one’s stance towards (x). One of the problems with this is it rests on the (usually unsaid) assumption that all members of (x) share the very same views and values. See outgroup homogeneity effect.

It doesn’t reflect well on him that he lied about it, but even if it had been true, it wouldn’t have made his ideas any less racist, no more than it would have given him the right to speak for First Nation Canadians.

Oh wait, I probably need to back up the racism claim.

Here are Peterson and Stefan Molyneux, another altogether awful dude. Peterson is dead wrong from the start – intelligence isn’t the best predictor of “life success, economically,” neither is conscientiousness (which needed to be mentioned otherwise his point about meritocracy would make no sense at all), the two don’t automatically come together, though of course any argument I could make would have to be rejected on the grounds of Cultural Marxism©. Anyway, what follows is typical: Peterson takes care to mention that “this is where some the uglier elements of science become germane,” which allows him to distance himself from what he’s about to say, establishing he’s only relating what science indisputably shows and that he acknowledges The Ugly. He adds it’s “that which no one would want to be the case,” reinforcing this distance. That thing no one wants to be true but is science, he continues, is that there are “profound and virtually irremediable differences in people’s cognitive performances, and that those differences have a very solid biological and heritable basis. No one wants to hear that. They don’t want to hear that it’s biological, they don’t want to hear it’s heritable, they don’t want to hear it’s permanent, they don’t want to hear that it’s irremediable and that it actually has a practical consequence.”

(“Intelligence” is a much more complex thing than Peterson seems to believe. It’s determined by complex genetics and environmental factors; the question of heritability is also way more complex than that; the permanence thing refers, I believe, to IQ and that too is more complex than “it’s permanent and irremediable” – “irremediable,” btw, is pejorative in this context.)

You can guess why no one wants to hear it – not because Peterson is oversimplifying and misrepresenting the results of contemporary research on cognition, not because he’s hedging close to Social Darwinism. Nah, it’s because of Cultural Marxism©’s doom-leading influence, obviously.

Molyneux is quick to expand, distancing himself in similar ways to Peterson’s from what he’s saying-but-not-saying, which is that ethnicity and gender are basically the main factors in intelligence difference. Peterson downplays but doesn’t disavow the gender factor, explaining it as “relatively trivial.” Ethnicity, however, is a whole other matter, and he mentions Ashkenazi Jews having an advantage over other Caucasians – a reference to Sam Harris’ The Bell Curve, one of the go-to works for people trying to bring back scientific racism.

Peterson brings back his earlier idea that intelligence is the best predictor of “life success, economically,” and explains that Ashkenazi Jews’ intelligence advantage is “sufficient to account for their radical overrepresentation in positions of authority and influence and productivity,” no actual statistics given. The very terminology is dubious – “radical overrepresentation,” not “greater representation,” or anything more neutral-sounding, and it’s easy to go from here to there, even easier when you remember the historical roots of the notion of Cultural Marxism©, but of course Peterson is quick to distance himself again: “just so it’s absolutely clear, I am not saying [this overrepresentation is] a bad thing.” He’s not being antisemitic is what he means. He’s only saying there’s a real reason for it – ie the biological basis of intelligence difference, which since we live in meritocracies (we don’t, and considering the accent he puts on the intelligence factor and its inheritability, it’s not quite the good term anyway) accounts for “life success, economically.”  

There’s more of the same, but basically we go back to the idea that no one wants to admit it’s True, All Of It, and of course, that it’s a problem. It’s a problem because in our more and more “cognitively complex societies” there’s less and less room for the “gainful employment” of the bottom ten percent. The human capital of these ten percent is too low, if you will (of course how much that should even matter depends on whether or not you believe productivity is an important factor to determine individual ‘worth’), making them at best worthless and at worst a burden. Peterson unsurprisingly insists he doesn’t have a solution to this unsolvable problem, which might be sincere, or might be because he’s aware that historically, the solution is eugenics, and of course that’s not something he’d ever advocate for.

Just to make it clear, under all the rhetorical flourishes, this is two white men saying white men are more intelligent than everyone else because Science, but the “science” they refer to is either held as pretty much pseudoscience (the Bell Curve) by the scientific community, or criticized to a degree (IQ, which is insufficient a tool to approach all areas of cognitive abilities, among other critiques) and misrepresented anyway, because neither Peterson nor Molyneux give a whit about what The Science really shows, they just want to make it like their prejudices are rooted in fact: they’re not racists (remember the ever-important ethnicity factor in intelligence difference), they’re just pointing out undeniable facts. They even say it’s ugly, what else could we ask for?

Some awareness of this, maybe:

[Moreover], the question of the relation, if any, between race and intelligence has very little scientific importance (as it has no social importance, except under the assumptions of a racist society) … As to social importance, a correlation between race and mean I.Q. (were this shown to exist) entails no social consequences except in a racist society in which each individual is assigned to a racial category and dealt with not as an individual in his own right, but as a representative of this category … In a non-racist society, the category of race would be of no greater significance [than height]. The mean I.Q. of individuals of a certain racial background is irrelevant to the situation of a particular individual, who is what he is. Recognizing this perfectly obvious fact, we are left with little, if any, plausible justification for an interest in the relation between mean I.Q. and race, apart from the ‘justification’ provided by the existence of racial discrimination.

(Another thing Peterson was dead wrong about, but I think he knows it, is when he says no one wants to hear that. There are plenty of people who want to hear exactly that, and they love people like Peterson, who can give a veneer of scientific credibility to their prejudices. He should know, since they make up a vocal portion of his fandom.)

Maybe I should get into The Woman Problem as well. I did mention it. Peterson has a lot to say about women. Sometimes he frames it as questions, which allows him to say “I didn’t really say it, I’m just asking questions, you numbskull.” (paraphrased). There’s that time he asked why do so few women watch my videos? Which I’m only mentioning because considering what follows, it’s hilarious, and I kinda need a laugh at this point. There’s that time he asked could it be that women are outraged because they crave infant contact and society refuse them that? There’s the worse do feminists avoid criticizing Islam because they crave masculine dominance? There’s the blame-shifting can men and women work together in the workplace? He actually answers this one, and the answer is women and men can’t work together because we (men) “don’t know what the rules are”. Which rules is unclear (maybe “don’t harass women?”) but no matter, Peterson has some to propose: “no makeup in the workplace” should definitely be one, since it’s “sexually provocative”. Women paint their lips red because “lips turn red during sexual arousal”. High heels are also reprehensible since they “exaggerate sexual attractiveness.” Of course, he’s not saying women shouldn’t do it, just that it’s, you know, what they do. Kind of like they’re asking to be harassed, honestly. Might that be because of that craving for masculine dominance?  

More pearls that should make it clear why he’s overall more popular among men: Women are characterized by “higher levels of trait negative emotion (neuroticism)” in contrast to, of course, men. (A comment on a study of online harassment posted by James Demore, who managed to get fired from Google for a sexist memo; you can contrast his description of working at Google to the testimonies coming to light with the Google Walkout.) Women that don’t want a child by their 30s? There’s something that “isn’t quite right with the way they’re constituted or looking at the world”. More cringy comments ensue. Looping back to women’s craving for masculine dominance: Testosterone, nothing’s more appealing to women. Some appalling comments on men too. Rhetoric eerily similar as that of MRAs/Incels’.

It’s all Very Serious, so I’ll focus on something that’s kind of funny in this neverending deluge of awful: Peterson’s deep, deep dislike of Frozen. Yes, Disney’s Frozen. He didn’t like the propaganda:

Frozen apparently “served a political purpose: to demonstrate that a woman did not need a man to be successful. Anything written to serve a political purpose (rather than to explore and create) is propaganda, not art. Frozen was propaganda, pure and simple. Beauty and the Beast (the animated version) was not.” He’s expounded on that, explaining it was “produced for ideological reasons” as an anti-Beauty and the Beast, which is “inappropriate”. He did like Moana, but only because Moana allied herself with this “uncivilized, rather masculine force” 

I’m sorry but that’s hilarious. I mean, there’s two main male characters in Frozen (not counting Olaf, who is a snowman), and one of them reveals himself to be Bad News, but the other is… kind of instrumental to the “success” of the female characters? His name is Kristoff, but he doesn’t count because… Well, Peterson doesn’t mention him, so I’m not sure why he gets erased from the narrative, but if I was to hazard a guess it’s because he is Not A Good Example Of Masculinity. Too nice, too bumbling, too… beta-y. Definitely not enough of an “uncivilized, rather masculine force.” (Though even that seems debatable, considering his way of life, but whatever.)

I wonder what he thought of Brave. Haven’t found anything on that one. Anyway, assuming Frozen is an anti-BatB, why is it inappropriate? Why, because BatB is the “fundamental hero myth for women”, which he defines as “find a monster that wants to be a good man and help him be a good man”. Don’t go for the “underdeveloped, harmless thing”, ladies, go for the monster. He admits “that’s a scary thing to do,” but since the choice is between a monster and a “castrated man…” 

(On Peterson and myth – I will never stop if I go there, so please read Homer and Hatred: On Jordan Peterson’s Mythology; Jordan Peterson & Fascist Mysticism – to be followed by Umberto Eco’s essay on fascism; Jordan Peterson’s Tired Old Myths; Jordan Peterson’s Murky Maps of Meaning; Elwood’s The Politics of Myth: A Study of CG Jung, Mircea Eliade, which is not about Peterson, but considering the influence of Jung/Campbell/Eliade on his own approach of myth I still recommend it.)

Please note the dehumanizing language (thing), and of course the eerily similarity with MRAs/Incels’ rhetoric.

On the manosphere forums, you can find praise for Peterson and just under it, someone who thinks throwing acid into women’s faces is the best idea since the wheel. Or something much, much worse. I wonder if Peterson is wilfully blind to it, or if he’s exploiting it. I wonder why he’s so afraid of Cultural Marxism©, when so many of his fans fantasizes about killing women, killing Jews, killing Muslims, killing everyone that’s not them and unapologetically admire those who act on that hate. I wonder if it matters. I wonder if someday soon someone will follow in the footpaths of Elliot Rodgers and Alek Minassian, and leave a manifesto quoting Jordan Peterson. I wonder how we’ll explain it away. How we will explain it away. There will be a girl, or maybe a woman. She will have rejected this newest killer, she will have worn makeup and heels. It will be a sad story, because if she’d accepted the monster, if she’d been the Beauty to his Beast, we’d have avoided a tragedy. We won’t say, it was her fault, we’ll just insinuate it. Somewhere, someone will say; Jordan Peterson is so right. Click for my essay on Why Women Are Evil And Also Stink (Because Vaginas Are Dirty) And Not Fully Human!

In Peterson’s deluge of words, there’s some decent, common-sense advice. Stand up straight, it’ll do wonders for your self-confidence (and accessorily your spine). This you know already, as you already know everything I’m about to tell you, like the fact that, dear men, the world is doing you many a wrong by trying to convince you that we should all be equal. We are not. Fight for the reestablishment of your nature-given right to dominance.

But don’t forget to clean your goddamn room first.

In another timeline, he’d just be one of a bunch of people on my list of utter quacks, along with so-called Ancient Aliens theorists, Campbell, and a looot of anthropologists and prehistorians from the nineteenth century (an era Peterson could have easily belonged to, and probably been happier in, what with all the scientific racism), among others.

Peterson earns his place on the list because he has some very dodgy ideas about The Past (let’s not forget(1) He can’t tell you how he knows that, but The Ancients depicted the DNA molecule. (2) More examples, and again he “really believes” that they are ancient representations of DNA, it’s just “very complicated to explain why” (3) Oh but wait, he doesn’t “believe” that, he just has his “suspicions.”) and Human Nature (not even that accepted a concept, btw). Look, anyone telling you “that’s how it was Before hence it’s what’s Natural and how it should be again” is lying to you. The Before is a deeply political territory, and the things we chose to tell, the very way we tell them, the parts we cherish above all others – that says as much about us as it does about the Before (and often enough, more). People who say “that’s how it was; that’s what’s natural; that’s how it should be” are misrepresenting the past, cherry-picking the bits that support their arguments. What guides their choices is nothing but Ideology – which is what they’re really trying to sell you.

Be wary of people who instrumentalize the past to sell you something, be it the Lebensraum or communism as the true State of Nature. Or a specific, “natural,” model of social hierarchy.

Which brings me to the lobster. Why, of all things, does Peterson pick the lobster? I don’t know that, and neither does anyone, because he never explained it. A shared common ancestor in no way justifies it: if we look far back enough, we share common ancestors with pretty much anything living. And the lobster is such an incongruous choice. Not a primate, not even a mammal.

I have no doubt Peterson could have spun something out of the Bonobos, and point to actual Science. That’d make a modicum of sense at least. But no. Fucking lobsters. Even my nineteenth century dudes would have brought Statistics before going there. They’d have tried to argue that studies showed the majority of all things that breathe favour a specific social organisation over all others, and they’d have given a variety of examples. Among which the lobster, maybe. They’d have explained Mantis religiosa and other inconvenient counterexamples away. Peterson’s book, it’s true, is theoretically a self-help book, but still, he’s an academic, and yet he goes straight for the lobster. 

Part of me is disappointed. He could do so much better than lobsters. But why would he, since so much of the reading material is produced by those oh-so-evil, doom-leading Cultural Marxists©? Why even bother with standard academic practices when those were set by the same Cultural Marxists©? It’s all worthless.

(That might be why he didn’t even try to use the Bonobos or another species of primates, to go back to my previous example. After all the argument that they’d be a better choice is in part based on research produced by disciplines infested by this so-called Cultural Marxism©. The lobster, on the other hand, is a massive fuck you to those evildoers.)

But. Peterson isn’t the Flat Earth society. He didn’t write the 21st century version of the Telliamed. He didn’t write a parody like Blueprints for a Sparkling Tomorrow: Thoughts on Reclaiming the American Dream, which I’m mentioning because one of its authors wrote some really good stuff on Peterson.

He’s not funny. He is A Very Serious Man, peddling Very Serious Notions.

[cabinboy100]

MR. ROBOT: Season 3: Some Pre-finale Big Picture Theories…

Hello, Friend.

Gonna ramble on some Big Ideas that might explain what’s going on in the WhiteRosey sectors of MR. ROBOT…

WHITEROSE CAN HACK REALITY.

The universe is a simulation, or at least effectively functions and exists as one, and WhiteRose is able to hack it. Currently only to a degree. She can copy and paste elements that exist and have existed in the universe. She can edit them, but only in certain ways. She currently has limited write permissions.

We've seen her do this when she copied a young Angela from the past and pasted her into the present to interview the adult Angela. 

We also saw *someone* do this when Trenton's brother (who actually left town with his parents) was copied and pasted onto the beach next to Elliot. Each of these instances was edited, tailored to accomplish a certain task. This is the kind of "undo" that WhiteRose has promised and tantalized Irving and Angela with.

However, she cannot yet deliver what Angela wishes for—the return of her mother and Elliot's father, hale and hearty. Editing them to the degree that they would be cured and healthy is currently beyond WhiteRose's power. She needs to proceed with her Congo project in order to gain that ability. WhiteRose's ultimate goal is to be able to edit the universe so that she can make lasting and stable changes, for herself, and to herself. In order to achieve that, anyone and everyone may be expendable, but also revivable.

WHITEROSE HAS A TIME MACHINE.

WhiteRose already possesses time travel capability, and she's used it countless times, each time tweaking events to get closer to an ultimate desired result. She doesn't believe in coincidence because when it occurs around her, she's had a hand in manufacturing it. In the events and timeline we see unfolding on the show, Elliot Alderson is the right person with the right connections and experiences in the right place at the right time for what WhiteRose needs to be done. I do not think that WhiteRose's time travel allows for a person to get into a DeLorean in 2015 and step out of it in 1985. Instead, what she can do is send herself (and maybe others) information. Maybe it's "psychic," a la PRINCE OF DARKNESS, but I prefer to think it's electronic, a la STEIN'S GATE. An email with an attached document sent from her personal server in 2015 to her AOL address in 1990.

How would this help WhiteRose? I'm gonna run thru a couple of *hypothetical* loops to demonstrate…

Let's say that in a previous iteration of the universe, WhiteRose identified Edward Alderson, Elliot's dad, as a useful tool in a takedown of ECorp and the global economy. He was poisoned by ECorp and had the coding/hacking chops to damage them. WhiteRose could have used her resources to encourage him to make the attempt. It fails. Edward can only do so much damage to ECorp in the 90s before he dies. However, his son grows up to be an accomplished hacker at a time when ECorp is committed to digital records and vulnerable to a catastrophic attack. But for whatever reason, this Elliot doesn't have the drive to pursue such a course. At the same time WhiteRose, Zhang, and the Dark Army try many paths to sink the economy and gain leverage for acquiring the Congo, but none pan out.

When WhiteRose believes she's exhausted her options in that iteration, she assembles an information payload—added to the one she received from her previous older self—for her younger self. ZIPs it, attaches it to her Chronomail, and hits [SEND]. The next iteration begins. This time, WhiteRose tweaks details at the Washington Township plant so that Edward dies earlier (perhaps by stepping up the timeline of her pet project there?). In the wake of his father's death, this Elliot makes toppling ECorp his lifelong goal. He grows up and assemble the fsociety team, but he's too reckless, and he gets himself caught or killed. His aggression needs to be tempered. He needs to be introduced to some already available channels instead of brute forcing his way every step of the way. Again, WhiteRose has many irons in the fire, but none prove successful. She assembles a new payload, updated with this iteration's edits and outcomes, and clicks [SEND] again.

The next iteration begins. This time, WhiteRose engineers events so that Elliot has a sister and a best friend who share his interests and motivation. Darlene is another hacker, naturally more reckless than Elliot, enough so that Elliot has to step up his responsible side. Angela is another victim of ECorp, whose shared orbit guides Elliot to a position beside her at AllSafe. This Elliot wants to take down ECorp, has the skills and access, and is levelheaded enough to accomplish it. However, when he does the math and comes up with an unavoidable body count, he cannot go through the hack, at least not 100%. WhiteRose takes notes and launches the next payload into the next iteration.

This time, WhiteRose somehow gets Edward to reveal his illness to Elliot in secret, leading to the first time Edward pushes his son out the window, and so, the introduction of Mr. Robot. Everything goes nearly perfectly, but the hack is thwarted. There's one piece missing, and WhiteRose thinks she's located the raw material from which to carve it. She adds her new experiences and insights to the next payload and begins the next iteration.

This is the one we're watching. The one in which Elliot breaks his father's trust, angering him enough to push him out a second story window, creating Mr. Robot. The one in which Mr. Robot recruits fsociety and plans the hack. The one in which Angela's influence gets Elliot to the place he needs to be—Allsafe—to enable Mr. Robot's hack. The one in which they both meet Tyrell Wellick, the final (perhaps) piece of the puzzle, and low and behold, a bloodless 5/9—well, y'know, not counting the aftermath—and leverage enough for WhiteRose/Zhang to acquire the Congo!

If this is the furthest that WhiteRose has gotten, then she is in truly uncharted territory. We've seen how she has numerous strategies in play (influencing the media to pump up a certain pompous buffoon's Q rating), and I think it's in that same vein that she turns to Grant for his advice in light of Elliot's proposal of Stage 3, something that would not have come up in any previous iteration of events. WhiteRose has the coltan mines of the Congo now. Maybe Elliot *has* outlived his usefulness. No doubt she's already made notes for her younger self to take steps to quell the unrest in the Congo so that her pet project can be transported there hassle-free in the next iteration.

And what is her pet project? Her ultimate goal? Y'know, assuming she's already got this method of time travel? What could top that?

What about the ability to run these iterations as simulations, allowing her to not have to *live* each iteration? Not that she feels it, but intellectually, for a hacker of time, that's got to be aggravating, right? Of course, each of those simulations is an iteration, too, so a subjective, paradoxical advance.

How about hacking reality? Basically, the ability I discuss in my first theory. I feel like WhiteRose's ultimate goal involves taming cosmic forces to perhaps selfishly right a personal (cosmic) wrong. Did Zhang ever have a sister? Do Zhang and WhiteRose each wish to live as two separate beings? Or is WhiteRose her true self, and Zhang a mask? Would WhiteRose wish to recode herself as a biological woman? Or somehow able to transform at will? Perhaps her pet project, once complete, can realize these wishes.

This would also make her promise to Angela a deliverable one, as I describe above.

TIME TRAVEL AND STUFF…

I would *love* for WhiteRose to have or be working toward, classic pulpy scifi time travel, but I just don't see it working out. Assuming that's the goal, and that she achieves it, she can't use time travel to go back and change or fix anything without endangering the machinations she engineered to enable it in the first place. Which logically means she can only go forward in time, and aside from hoverboards and gambling, where's the fun in that, right?

Huh. Something (zany) just occurred to me. Maybe she wants to go *all the way* forward, to the Singularity and/or Omega Point. Sorry, "and/or" because I forget if they're mutually exclusive. I’m fuzzy on the details of each. In any case, once then-there, assuming there isn't some fascist super villain who's somehow able to dominate the state, WhiteRose can live or relive any life she would want…or something. Right?

Yeah, like I said, that *just* occurred to me.

Multiverse-hopping also sounds like fun, but I'm not seeing the upside to that, either.

Maybe WhiteRose has been contacted by an alternate version of herself and given instructions on how to bridge and cross 'verses, but to what end? A Council of Cross-Time WhiteRoses who manipulate markets and technology across timelines? I'd *love* that, but it seems incongruous with the fabric and feel of the MR. ROBOT we've watched for three seasons.

Maybe WhiteRose speaks of these things in earnest with certain parties in order to manipulate them, as dramatically seen with Angela. Irving has mentioned that he doesn't find the possibility of some kind of undo (Angela and Irving never name it) completely unbelievable, and I love the idea that such a promise is part of Irving's motivation, but just as likely is the notion that Irving is toeing the line with Angela, saying what he's supposed to say to keep her motivated.

But you *know* Irving wants WhiteRose to deliver a reality in which BEACH TOWEL is a huge best seller and optioned for an HBO series, right? =)

Some last bits of crazy talk…

Washington Township has been the home of WhiteRose’s project for a very long time. If time travel is in play, maybe it’s only available for the lifetime of the functioning core of that project. How the heck is she having that “packed up” and moved to the Congo? Or is she having a second/newer facility assembled there?

What properties of the DRC region and/or coltan would be so valuable to the presumably exotic science involved in WhiteRose’s project? EM radiation? Magnetism? Radioactivity?

The Mandela Effect is visible everywhere in the show—and I *love* it—but maybe that's just the reality that this show lives in.

I'd like for there to be an opposing force to WhiteRose, someone we haven't met yet, who's playing the game at her level, or maybe even one level above, unknown to WhiteRose. Maybe it's a future Elliot. Or someone we've been told is dead. Or an alternate WhiteRose. Maybe Elliot's landlord (is that Guillermo del Toro or G. G. Martin? =) is the Yoda to WhiteRose's Emperor?

I think that someone or organization has repurposed Flipper's chip and is using him to track or spy or spoof Elliot and Mr. Robot. Krista's dick ex returning Flipper to Elliot as a curse on him was just a bit too dramatic for me to be legitimate.

Does WhiteRose know that Elliot shares his body with Mr. Robot? Does she *recognize* this dual persona existence because she does the same with Minister Zhang? Were WhiteRose's parents exposed to the same poison cocktail that killed Elliot and Angela's parents, but under different circumstances?

I know I've got more crazy talk in my rusty innards, but it's not coming to me just now. Hopefully events and revelations in this week's episode will rule some of it out. Just as likely, tho, it will inspire more. =)

Be seeing you.

Keep on keepin' on~

[shinichirosbabymama]

Elliot x Reader - Betrayal

A/N: SO I haven’t posted in a while but I’ve decided to try something new. This was extremely difficult to write as it goes against my principles on a number of things so don’t expect to find yourself in agreement with the reader. But basically she betrays Elliot. This fic is also extremely sad and angsty but as always enjoy! xo

You hated hacking. You hated it with every fibre of your being.

Prior to meeting Elliot Alderson, you didn’t know very much about hacking. You knew it was becoming an increasingly popular way to expose corrupt activities that were happening in the world so with a distinct sense of naivety you supported it.

However, it wasn’t hacking that had enthralled you – it was Elliot who had done that. He’d entered your life timidly but with a mind bursting with ideas. Ideas that you used to murmur to one another in the dark, shielded from the assumptions of the outside world. You wanted to change the world – with him. But not like this.

Darting around the streets of New York with Elliot and his entourage had been, at first, exhilarating. You felt as though you were a foot soldier – one of the people actually doing something.

But as you marched on with the plan – with Elliot’s big, convoluted idea of starting over – you realised you were rapidly losing your comrades.

Men and women who used to bring down digital dynasties from their bedrooms evaporated rapidly. They were taken without a word – presumably by the FBI. Elliot went undetected, he said it was because he was the best but you thought he was just lucky.

The seed of doubt in your mind started sprouting in the immediate aftermath of 5/9. Everyone was free now but they didn’t seem very free as they hid inside their apartments, eyes occasionally peering through tightly closed blinds. The ATMs ran out fast and the streets filled up with litter. On more than one occasion you saw a brawl break out at the food bank but it wasn’t bankers or their cronies or any of the other people you saw as the enemy – just mothers trying to feed their hungry kids.

Elliot had escaped the initial shockwave and was nowhere to be seen. By the time he returned, in his usual confusion, you were numbed to everything.

‘What happened?’ He mumbled to you one afternoon, stood next to you as you stared out of the window onto the street.

‘The hack happened Elliot. Your hack.’ Your words were full of venom as stalked away from him.

The hours you spent sprawled out attempting sleep on Elliot’s sofa (you’d long vacated his bed) gave your thoughts time to dash back and forth between moral and immoral, resist and conform, one and zero.

Of course, the horrible conditions you’d witnessed on the streets had existed long before the hack, at the hands of the people running this country no less. Yet nobody’s situation seemed improved now. It reminded you of Icarus and you worried that fsociety’s wings had already melted. How nonsensical was it of you all to believe you could unstitch society without consequence. Safely deliver the ruins into the hands of the people. People were not to be trusted.

The situation escalated as did Elliot – or Mr Robot – you weren’t quite sure anymore. You remained catatonic. The damage had been done and an irreversible wound opened.

The moment that came for you to act was unexpected. If you were being honest to yourself, your breaking point came at the exact moment Cisco’s head exploded in that diner which left you picking bits of his brain matter out of your clothes for days after since you couldn’t afford to get rid of them. You didn’t care who had done it – Cisco was already dead and blaming people wouldn’t bring him back. This wasn’t code that could be written or permissions that could be changed. And as a result you spilt your guts to the FBI, a sickening relief washing over you as the words flowed freely.

Dominique, the agent who had been following you all for months, was extremely warm to you after she’d received the haul of information. You didn’t return her attitude but her smile still reached her eyes as he leaned forward, arms flat against the table as though she might reach out to brush yours. You were glad that she didn’t – if someone touched you right now you would scream.

‘Y/N I understand this hasn’t been easy for you but you’ve been incredibly brave. It might not feel like it now but you have done the right thing.’

Your eyes avoided hers as you stared at the cup half-filled with lukewarm coffee in front of you. Dominique was either the worst or the best FBI agent ever as she ignored almost all social graces, carrying on her speech completely unabashed by your frosty audience.

‘I also understand that Mr Alderson – Elliot – is very important to you. Your story has been corroborated with the other evidence that we’ve gathered and it checks out completely. As a result, I am going to allow you to return to yours and Elliot’s residence tonight on the condition that we seize all electronic devices. An agent will be stationed outside to stop either of you disappearing but nobody will enter. How do you feel about that?’

All you could do was offer a small nod in acknowledgement as the tell-tale bitterness in your mouth informed you that you would almost definitely vomit if you tried to speak.

Dominique – Dom as she preferred to be called and which you refused to call her –  gave you a tight-lipped smile and directed her head towards the recorder on the table.

‘Miss Y/L/N has indicated her approval of this offer non-verbally. Y/N can you please confirm that you understand what will happen following your meeting with Mr Alderson. As in – he will be brought into custody for questioning.’

‘I understand.’ You rasped in response, still thirsty even though Dominique had provided you with coffee throughout the interview.

After another two hours of staring at the grey walls of the holding cell you were being escorted to Elliot’s apartment. He would know what was happening by now as each electronic device he owned was wrenched out of his grasp by the authorities. You didn’t know what to expect - you weren’t scared of Elliot but not knowing terrified you.

‘Don’t let him leave, we’ll be watching.’ One of the men in the car told you curtly before you stepped out. All you could offer in response was a stiff nod as you opened the door, bile rising in your throat which you had to swallow down.

You let yourself into the apartment using your key after a few tries due to your shaking hands. The first thing you spotted was Elliot pacing, his hands moving erratically as he spoke.

‘Stop say that I’m not going to fucking –‘

Elliot paused, turning to face you with a look of fear and genuine confusion on his face.

‘Elliot…’ You began, your dry throat trying to find the words. ‘Who are you talking to?’

‘What?’ Elliot snapped quickly in reply, starting towards you so quickly you nearly stepped all the way out of the apartment. You were afraid of him for the first time. Elliot noticed your movement and stopped short, hurt crossing his features.

‘He keeps telling me to do all these things.’ Elliot hissed in a whisper to you. You look over his shoulder but saw nothing and Elliot clenched his jaw in agitation.

‘I don’t understand-‘

‘-You told them everything then?’

The previous conversation was now forgotten as he cut you off, his brow set deep as he stared at you. You nearly bailed right there – you wanted to get back in the car that was waiting outside but you couldn’t. You had to say this.

‘Elliot I had to. I couldn’t go on like this.’ You wished that the words didn’t sound so weak coming from your lips but you were flailing desperately despite the many hours you’d spent pouring over your various explanations.

‘You never had to do anything. Way to go kill the dream.’ His voice sounded monotone and you briefly wondered if it really was Elliot you were speaking to right now. His response triggered a flash of anger which made its way up from your throat.

‘What dream?’ You spat but it sounded more like a sneer. ‘This is fucked but you won’t stop.’

‘Forgive me for actually doing something. I can see that you’re happier being sedated.’ Elliot replies were far too fast for your liking and you could do little more than bristle in response.

‘You love me so how sedated can I really be?’

‘You think I would ever buy into such a ridiculous concept? You think because we fucked each other exclusively numerous time we’re in love? I thought you were intelligent Y/N.’

His words cut you like a knife. This was the Elliot you’d watched destroy a man at steel mountain. You remember listening in horror from the van as he had methodically broke the man piece by piece in front of him. He was strategizing now, aiming to hit you where it hurt most.

‘Fuck you.’ For a few seconds these were the only words spoken from you. You needed a way to release the build of emotions inside of you somehow and that seemed to do the trick. Elliot’s expression didn’t change as his eyes continued to bore into you – the mask he was wearing was rock solid.

‘You’re not a hero Elliot, or a god, or martyr. People are suffering now because of your project. You’re nothing more than a – than a – troll.’

Elliot reached forward and took you by the elbow. For a second you thought he really was about to strike you – something that you’d never even entertained the idea of him doing. Instead he brought his lips close to your ear as his fingers dug painfully into your arm. You wanted to struggle but you stubbornly refused.

‘He told me to kill you. He said it was the easiest way to make things right.’ Elliot’s voice was barely above a whisper sounding unusually smooth in your ear as he spoke without his usual fizzle of anxious energy. ‘But it wasn’t love that stopped me. It was pity. So remember that.’

Your face flushed as you wrenched your arm away from him. The motion seemed to shock Elliot as his eyes went wide and his gaze turned to look at the hand that had grabbed you.

‘Y/N…’ He began – and there was the anxiety in his voice that you guiltily craved.

You made your way out of the apartment swiftly, not quick enough to miss the ‘Wait…I’m sorry!’ of Elliot’s voice drifting down the stairwell. You didn’t stop sprinting until you were back inside the car, one of the agents turning to give you nothing less than a murderous look.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

‘Just drive just fucking drive.’ You snapped, the emotion in your voice twisting angrily around the words.

The agents took a moment to look at one another, trying to read each other’s thoughts until one finally pulled out a walkie talkie.

‘Please send a unit to apprehend Mr Alderson at his residence. We are taking Miss Y/L/N back into custody.’

As the car pulled away from the apartment – away from Elliot – you tried to pinpoint the moment where you knew the two of you were doomed. But it never came. Visions of his ridiculous half smile, his eyes creasing in amusement filled your memory and you struggled to squash them down. You had betrayed him but at what cost?