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alpaca-clouds · 11 months

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The History of Cyberpunk

Or why every other SciFi Genre is called [something]punk

You know what? Let's do this. Because I have seen the discussion on whether or not Solarpunk is "punk" over the last few days and... people really gotta learn their history.

The first time a genre took the "punk" name was Cyberpunk. And for context we gotta talk a bit about the history of the Cyberpunk genre.

While some books that we in hindsight call "Cyberpunk" were released as early as the 1960s, the start of Cyberpunk as a genre got its start in the late 70s and early 80s.

The term was invented by Bruce Bethke, who published a short story in 1983 with the name "Cyberpunk". His idea was to juxtapose the term "punk" for both the mentality and the punk protagonists in his short story with the term cyber, short for the cybernetics they were wearing. And while the cybernetics have become a main stay in the genre, the punk attitudes are not always carried through...

Well, the title Bethke invented stuck, though. When 1984 Neuromancer was published, one of the most influencial works in the early days of the genre, he called it "a Cyberpunk novel" in the marketing. And from there... Well, the genre was suddenly named like that.

The 80s were definitely the decade that had the most influence on the genre, given that a lot of the big novels and graphic novels of the genre were released here.

A big influence was, no doubt, that 1982 the Blade Runner movie had released and had inspired quite a few writers and artists. (And yes, this makes Blade Runner a movie that released not only before the term Cyberpunk was coined, but also before the genre had a chance to define itself.)

Given that the genre was defined in the 80s, there are a lot of 80s anxiety kept within it about the rise of the Japanese economy, that are these days rarely questioned within the western Cyberpunk movement.

When the genre was coined and developed, Japan was the fastest growing economy in the world, being so influencial that they got to buy out several things in America. Something that kinda jerked white people in the US a lot. This is, why Cyberpunk originally depicted not only a capitalist hellscape - but specifically a capitalist hellscape were everything was bought out by Japanese companies, with many of those early antagonists being Japanese companies. And yeah... there was a lot of both anti-japanese racism, but also cultural appropriation of Japanese things in early Cyberpunk, at time surviving to this day. (But that is a story for another day.)

The general sense that Western Cyberpunk had, was always the idea of: We have a capitalist hellscape where the world is slowly dying and people are exploited with no end, while we have those kinda punky protagonists, who stand outside of the society and try to work against it. This being where the punk comes from.

Now, I could talk for length about how a lot of that punky attitude has been lost in more modern Cyberpunk media, but that, too, is a story for another day.

So, let me just talk about what happened then.

The term Cyberpunk really is darn catchy, right? So just when that name took hold, writer K.W. Jeter retroactively called his 1979 novel Morlock Night "steampunk". And guess what: This stuck, too. Though while the 80s Cyberpunk still stuck to the punk attitude, a lot of Steampunk did not. While for certain there is quite a bit of Steampunk that has kinda punky characters go against the quasi Victorian society of steampunk books (something most common in the air pirate novels I have read), a lot of other stories are more focused on a general sense of adventure.

But never the less... The genre names stuck and gave a nice baseline for naming other genre. We got Dieselpunk, Atompunk, Nanopunk, Arcanepunk, Dustpunk, Silkpunk and of course also Solarpunk and Lunarpunk.

And for the most part... The "punk" names mostly communicate: "It is SciFi with this kinda aesthetic/twist going on". Which is just how it turned out.

Funnily enough Solarpunk is for once a genre that brings back the punk, as it tends to include a lot of the ideals aspired to by the Punk counter culture of the 1970s: Anarchism, anti-capitalism, anti-consumerism, anti-classism, anti-racism, anti-colonialism and so on. Though other than with Cyberpunk and the real world punk movement, Solarpunk for the most part imagines a place, where those things are culture instead of counter culture.

I personally find it kinda sad, how for the most part Cyberpunk kinda lost a lot of the counter-cultural, revolutionary mindset. And how fucking defeatist the genre often is.

But again, it is a story for another day. Just as the story of Japanese Cyberpunk is.

#cyberpunk #solarpunk #steampunk #cyberpunk history #western cyberpunk #science fiction #scifi #william gibson #neuromancer #genre history #punk

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displacer-beasts · 11 months

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Seeing as you're a fellow Lorath x Wanderer Appreciator, I would like to see your rogue 😌😌😌

*vibrates wildly* yes let me show you my boy

This is my rogue Nico (please ignore the patchy hair - Diablo on PS4 does not render short hair or stubble well at all 😭)

This is the main armor set he uses now while traveling around Sanctuary. (Gotta hide his face since Prava and the Church are now hunting him)

Or this one when he's hunting people for the Tree of Whispers

I'm still developing his backstory but I have some notes:

He was born in Westmarch, years after the events of RoS and the land is still a lawless hellscape

His parents were killed and he would have died too if he had not been taken in by a nomadic druid tribe

(This is bc i love making connections between my characters, so I made my druid Kashira is his adopted sister)

He was very sickly as a child and only survived due to the druids caring for him and not giving up on him

(this is part of why he loathes Elias's and Lilith's whole 'the weak must perish and only only the strong survive for the coming battles against Hell')

He followed Kashira across the sea to support her in her quest to cleanse Túl Dúlra. While she worked with the local druids, he traveled around offering his services as a mercenary for hire. That's when he ended up in Nevesk and the whole 'blood of Lilith' thing happened.

I like to imagine he met Lorath before the events in game, and that the YouTube short videos where Lorath narrates the history of Diablo lore to a wandering stranger are their initial conversations. (To note - Nico is not a scholar but he was instantly fascinated by this old man and his sexy voice and made a point to return there to speak with him again)

His nickname when he was growing up was 'little wolf' and he's always loved wolves as a result. He's got mixed feelings now due to Mephisto

He learned how to fight with swords/daggers by a member of the tribe. (She wasn't a druid herself but married to one) Nico used to wonder if she used to be a member of the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye but she never admitted one way or the other

(this is my HC since I use Inner Sight talent 100% of the time but he can't be an actual sister)

Bonus:

Here is my druid Kashira! The image is really fuzzy because the camera focus is actually on Taissa (cropped out, behind her) but it's also the only photo I have of her since I forgot to take pictures during the campaign 😔

#diablo iv #nico the rogue #my ocs #this game needs a photo mode #i want better pictures of my characters!#but yes this is my boy and i love him so much #my original plans for my rogue character was like 'assassin for hire' cold and emotionless #but the male rogue voice is so soft and caring and it completely changed how i developed him #it made me love him so much more #thank you so much for asking me about him its made my whole dayy

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bitchheroine · 20 days

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Applying for grad school is so fucking weird bc it's like, you've been out in the world, working, trying to survive a capitalist hellscape with multiple world catastrophes going on, and now you've gotta put your school hat on again. Oh and you need to find people who will write nice things about you, like 'yes let this human pay you money to do your program, they are so smart i swear'.

also i fully realize it's a privileged position to pursue more education, and I am super grateful, it's just like HUH

#y'all can call me fox ~ooc~

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tacofriend · 4 months

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How the fuck do other autistic people survive in the ableist hellscape that is being in public‽ Like actually how?

I can barely handle shopping in public. Like I've gotta gear up, get my headphones, and blitz through that shit as quickly as possible while still running behavelikeahuman.exe, and by the time I'm at checkout I'm starting to unravel, swearing at the self checkout machine for being so loud. You used to be able to mute those things, but they took that setting away because autistic people can't have one thing to make our lives easier.

Just running behavelikeahuman.exe takes so much fucking energy, I feel like it takes up so much of my imaginary CPU that I can't actually do anything else. Like I had a job where I was expected to do screen printings AND chat with my coworkers, which left me so fucking burnt out at the end of every day. I quit after a month. I just couldn't do it anymore.

And it feels like asking others to be ok if I don't run behavelikeahuman.exe is this huge breach of contract. Like I'm not trying to be rude, I just literally cannot chat and work at the same time. But no people get weirded out if you're too quiet or wear headphones or do anything that makes your life easier to live.

I don't know how other autistic people survive in a world that keeps us from ever being ourselves.

#Taco talks #autism

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randomidiocyncrazies · 1 year

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Huh, I gotta say I hadn't considered the sleeper agent brainwashing angle. I feel like it would've been telegraphed more if that kind of tech/method was available, but at the same time I could believe it if Suletta does turn out to be literally brainwashed.

I personally hope it doesn't turn out like that—imo there wasn't enough set-up so it feels a bit random for me, and I think taking Suletta's agency/culpability away does a major disservice of the themes—but I am not familiar enough with the main writer's style to predict if he'd go for it.

I think people are free to speculate that Prospera literally brainwashed her, and the writer can justify it retroactively... BUT from a thematic standpoint, I think Suletta has to be accountable for her choices and actions. (Or as responsible as someone who was groomed from childhood is accountable for the choices they make—she technically has the freedom to make choices, but we know her 'freedom' is limited and her choices aren't necessarily informed, since she was manipulated by Propera for the goal to carry out her revenge.) If it was just straight up brainwashing/mind control, it entirely removes Suetta's agency from the entire situation. I think the narrative loses nuance if you can basically say Suletta literally isn't responsible at all. Sure, she'll still feel guilt once she breaks free of the brainwashing, and there's a compelling narrative in processing the violation of her identity/agency, but imo it flattens her character into just a victim who literally had no choice.

A literal brainwashing narrative usually ends with the victim breaking free from it eventually; imo it’s a far more perilous and painful journey to realize you’ve actively participated in some really fucked up shit out of your own free will* and start working on improving yourself. Letting Suletta have (some degree) of agency in this situation heightens the horror/heartbreak of the situation. She chooses to cheerfully dehumanize another person—she acts like she squished a bug, not a person—as long as she feels justified in doing so. After all, that guy was going to kill Miorine, right? She saved someone she loves, right? That person was a bad guy, right? Enemies want to hurt the people she loves, so they're evil, and she doesn't have to think of them as normal people, right? (And dehumanization of the 'other', such as enemy combatants, is a problem in real life as well.)

It’s tragic not just because Suletta killed a guy violently—he was going to kill Miorine, and he's an enemy combatant in an armed conflict, so killing him made sense in tge situation—but specifically because she seemed to have stopped seeing her opponents as human beings. It’s unsettling because we know she’s a shy girl who wants to do the right thing that we’ve been rooting for in these past 11 episodes. To see that idealistic girl choosing to accept her mother’s philosophy and stop seeing other people as human, when it’s crystal clear that her mom is just using her and twisting her into a tool, hurts a lot.

And speaking of tools... a ‘brainwashed agent’ narrative certainly is one way to explore the theme of tools—a tool has no agency—and the classic “breaking out of mind control” story can be really uplifting and compelling. Reconnecting with your old values, finding the true self within your current state, throwing off someone else’s control to reclaim your boundaries and agency is extremely cool and sexy. But with the hellscape capitalist corpocracy setting, I feel like showing the dehumanization and tool-ification of people (especially minors) without literal brainwashing seems more in line with the show’s social commentary? Those with power and authority can coerce those without easily, and people even willingly** become tools of their own free will in order to survive.

then again, I’ve been completely wrong about these things before. and like I said, narratives about breaking out of brainwashing can be very compelling as well!

*or as much ‘free will’ someone who was groomed and manipulated from childhood can have, anyway.

** to the extent that someone who has no other real choice can have free will, anyway.

#replies #knowledgeseeker01 #gwitch spoilers #gwitch meta #gwitch #gundam

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kcarkwright · 2 years

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ARKWRIGHT'S PREPTOBER LESSONS: Figuring out your plots. Yes, plural.

Ah, plot. Gotta love it. Unfortunately.

A good story is really just two stories hiding in a trench coat, trying to buy tickets to a film they're definitely not old enough to watch.

So, every story should have a PLOT A and a PLOT B. PLOT A should remain about that main conflict, the protagonist vs. the Big Bad™. PLOT B should be about the Major Character's personal arc through their journey.

And, if you're writing a series, you get to add PLOT C, the directional plot of the series as a whole.

Yay. Three responsibilities.

Anyways, while abandoning these and just writing sounds so ideal — it isn't gonna work. A Plot Outline is like a treasure map, guiding you to your precious treasure: finishing your fucking book. Without it? You'll probably get lost. Maybe eaten by a kraken or something.

Here is a thread of how to format each of your plots, starting with PLOT A.

PLOTLINE A – how the story gets told.

PLOT A is more like a road map: Major Character needs to get from point a to point b. Except, a giant fucking hurricane had just blown through, turning this simple drive into a little adventure full of fallen wires, flooded roadways, and hey, let’s add alligators, because why not? Maybe the drive is to escape the hellscape known as Florida.

That hurricane is the Inciting Incident. The big shebang that changes the entire course of the whole drive. Usually, the inciting incident is out of the Major Character’s hands – but who knows! Maybe they caused it directly by pissing off the great and powerful Florida Man. It’s up to you! You get to ruin their day in any special way you want.

Now, Major Character has hopped into their ol’ 2005 Kia Hatchback, a trusty vehicle Major Character has used for every drive since they’ve had their license, and starts off, a trunk full of boxes and a mind full of…mountains. Yeah. Mountains. Nothing bad ever happens in the mountains, right? Rarely are there any tornadoes, inclines would help with the flooding. And Major Character has always wanted to have a white Christmas!

The mountains. That’s where Major Character will be happy, and safe, and away from the fUCKING GATORS–

But, haha! Fate in the form of a sleep-deprived and caffeine-addicted author has decided to make Major Character’s rerouting absolute hell. Why?

For fun, obvs.

So this old Hatchback is chugging along as well as it can – there’s still severe winds after all, and the roads are just so slick – until it gets to the true damage of the storm. The intersection is absolutely submerged in a flood patch, a drainage pipe at the north of it just pouring gallon after gallon into it in a violent rush. But like, even then, the water doesn’t look too high. Major Character can still see the legs of the stop signs and they look about the same height as normal. And besides, they’ve got Hatchback on their side! This car has survived 18 wrecks, a dozen hurricanes, multiple break-ins, and a lightning strike, if the carfax is to be believed. It can easily make it through this glorified puddle. So, with faith in their dependable old friend, Major Character pushes forward –

And immediately waterlogs the engine.

This is all a metaphor, of course, for your Plot Point One. You can interpret this instance to fit your tale in any way you wish: did Major Character ignore all the warning signs and push through anyways, becoming a victim of their own hubris? Did they put too much faith in their tools because it’s gotten them out of every issue so far? Have they simply never heard the phrase “turn around, don’t drown”?

The Major Character’s reasoning for this first plot point is up to you, and is going to be a part of your Plot B. Don’t stress too hard about it yet.

I find Plot Point One to work best for the story if it strips something from the protagonist. Because now, that road trip has become a hike, exposing Major Character to the natural elements of the inciting incident, forcing them to adapt. And by stripping away the tool Major Character depended on, this makes it soooo much easier to kick them while they’re down.

My OCs love me, can’t you tell?

The journey for Major Character is so much harder now, but they keep on, more determined than ever to leave because holy FUCK they hate Florida. So they trek on with cuffed jeans, dealing with the effects of being Hatchbackless when they turn a corner, aiming to take a road that – surprise – was swept away by the flooding, now a patch of cement-sprinkled dirt, rushing along in a landslide.

This is a bit on-the-nose, sure, but sometimes we need it to be: there’s no more road for them to take. Plot Point Two, I believe, works best when you next take their choice of progress. Their chance of moving forward on the obvious and safest path. They’re either going to have to admit defeat and stay in the Sunshine State, or find a new way out.

Your Plot Point Two is also known as the Midpoint, the middle of your book. And I feel like it’s a good time for an intermission, and to mention something important.

At minimum, you need three plot points.

Minimum. MINIMUM. Not max, not total – minimum. This map is kinda like a Dora the Explorer map, and we need 3 stops on the trail for the episode to feel complete – but that isn’t the set amount we’re allowed to have. You can torture your Major Character in any way you please! And the Plot Points aren’t the only action you’re allowed to have in your story! Major Character has to get to the Plot Points, after all. Your Plot Points are your “Because [instance] happened, [instance] occurs next.” That’s where most authors feel daunted with their writing. Everything I’m typing here is to fit your basic (see: boring) Plot Structure. But this isn’t a set rule. You aren’t legally required to heed this advice to the letter. Just have those major points, those important instances that change how the Major Character takes this journey, and you can fill in the details of how they get there later. You don’t have to know your story inside out. You’re allowed to be clueless in some parts of your story; I find letting the setting and Major Character interact without my consistent interference is where some of my best writing happens.

Anyways, yeah, back to our regularly scheduled program.

Landslide. Major Character can’t go that way now! It isn’t safe, and besides, they don’t have the tools to get past. Even trusty Ol’ Hatchback wouldn’t have made that, if Major Character hadn’t sent it to an early grave. This Plot Point is where (! in my opinion !) you want to give Major Character the opportunity to change. Y’know, against their will. They don’t want to go a different, unmapped way, but they also don’t want to stay in Florida. So, with a grit in their teeth and a determination that exceeds their fear, they step off the known trail, over the guard rail and into the unknown.

Allow your Major Character the chance to begin shining, here. They find they’re actually not bad at navigating a post-hurricane bog. All those years in some made-up cub scouts equivalent somehow survived in the back of their mind. Sure, mosquitoes might be chewing away at exposed skin, and their fucking socks are wet, but Major Character is making progress. Finding a way out has been hell, but Major Character finally, FINALLY, feels like they can do it.

You see that hope? That assurance and confidence? Yeah, snuff it out like the Hatchback.

Major Character sees a highway overpass up ahead! Of course; if they take the highway, maybe walk it or hitchhike, they’ll get out of Florida waaaay quicker than if they just traveled random backroads by foot! Of course, they have to get on the highway first – and it just so happens that the on-ramp to this overpass is littered in sunbathing gators.

Plot Point Three is most fun most fun when you dangle a saving grace like a doughnut on a stick – right behind a major obstacle. The prize is so goddamn close, they can see the tape on the wrapping! And yet, it’s like they’re at square one.

Now, freeze frame on Major Character and the alligators: Plot Point Three is going to be the most important part of your book. Not the inciting incident, not your climax: Plot Point Three, iN My oPiNiOn, makes the rest of the book. Because your choices here will bleed into what makes the Climax.

Because from Plot Point Three will be born three beasts:

The Disaster

The Crisis

The Absolve

THE DISASTER is where you want everything to go to hell in a handbasket. Gators? In my roadway? It’s more likely than you think. Dozens of powerful jawed dinosaurs just waiting to eat Major Character. In fact, a scaly guy just at the edge of the gator gang has spotted Major Character. Why is it turning to face them? Oh god, it’s rushing towards Major Character–

Major Character isn’t fully unequipped; being Floridian, they’ve been taught since grade school to zigzag to escape a pursuing alligator. And just a ways away is a tree with a low hanging branch Major Character can use to hoist themselves up higher, away from the beast.

But Major Character wasn’t told how goddamn fast gators were on those stubby little legs, how it could snap side to side easily and only needed a few seconds to readjust itself before it was back on their tail, a jaw with an impossible number of teeth always getting too close to Major Character’s achilles before another zig or zag. Every close snap came with a breeze that warned Major Character, threatened them, but if they just dug their feet in, maybe used trees as cover when they dodged, they’d make it.

The gator keeps in pace, only just missing their legs from their constant jukes, but the branch is right there, splintery and wet as Major Character grips it and jumps, the spittle from the gator peppering their pants as they clambered up the tree and away from the monster, leaving it to groan dissatisfied in their wake.

THE CRISIS is the panic attack Major Character gets to have in the tree. Not just because they were almost eaten by Godzilla’s weaker cousin, but they’re now stuck in a tree. All metaphorical, of course: they’re now stuck in place, unable – and honestly, too fuckin’ scared – to move forwards. How are they supposed to get passed…13, 14, 15…yeah, fifteen gators?! They’re not Steve Irwin! They barely even qualify as a hiker! And now they’re stuck in a tree, a gator happily making a place in the shade to sleep for the night, and…

They’re trapped. They can’t get out of this elm, or Florida.

Major Character tries to rest, exhausted from running away and hiking and climbing and the allergic reactions from the mosquito bites…but it never really settles in. They stay in that in between, still privy to the sounds of their surroundings – and consistently getting startled awake by them. There’s the rumble of a gator clearing its throat that nearly sends Major Character out of the tree with their violent jerk, the constant harassment from the bugs keep them from truly settling, and there’s that crackling hum that keeps randomly snapping–

Major Character looks for the noise, finding a fallen wire insulated all but at its end, the frayed ends of still-live electricity shooting volts into the air. A cicada buzzes just a little too close and gets fried midair, turned to toast-smelling ash before it even had the chance to realize this was the end.

That wire…the idea was stupid, but as Major Character watches an anoli lizard scuttle across the insulated part and remain unarmed…maybe they can use it.

[i am legally required to tell you guys to not fuckin’ play with wires. This is fiction. Major Character already killed the Kia, don’t let them kill you too]

THE ABSOLVE is when Major Character begins making a plan. When, after googling how to survive a lightning strike or other electrical shock, they chuck their phone, the gator under the tree rushing towards the noise in search of a snack. It’s them practicing how to hold a branch with the back of their hands instead of a normal grip, so if they get electrocuted, their muscles tightening won’t hold on to the wire and (hopefully) further shock them. It’s them mentally mapping out the safest way to get to the raised middle of the road, away from the puddles and gators and at the perfect vantage point to electrocute everything alive and dash up the on-ramp. It’s silencing the group chat Major Character made to update everyone on how they were trapped, and to give a location in case something goes wrong. It was getting the chance to say goodbye because, either by wire or gator or storm or starvation, there’s a good chance they’ll die regardless.

Yeah, it’s dramatic. It’s meant to be. This is your building action to The Climax. This is everything that sets up the drama as Major Character clambers back down the tree and over to the wire, a hooked branch in one hand as the other slowly reaches out (facing backwards – never just fuckin’ grip anything that could be live!!) and gently brushes against it, breathing a sigh of relief when they actually survive the touch.

So they take the wire, keeping the live end as far away from them as possible, and begin tugging it forward, recalling that mental map of where to bob and weave so they avoid most of the gators.

Of course, in the small amount of time, a 12 footer readjusted, becoming a speed bump directly in their path, making them stop in their tracks. The gator spots them, opening its maw and letting out a low rumble. A warning. Don’t be so stupid, it advises.

Luckily, you get to make them as stupid as you want!

I’m not gonna sit here and map out the entirety of the action. That’s your job, I’m just the author self-appointing themselves a writing guru. Maybe your Major Character uses the wire as a whip, zapping the alligator right in its open mouth. Maybe they stop too suddenly and accidentally zap themselves too, the pain coursing up every nerve ending like a high speed rail train, lighting them on fire (metaphorically or actually!). The action here can be as calm, or as crazy, as you want it to be. Just try to keep in mind to keep it realistic to your tale; having aliens zoom down on a UFO and beam up Major Character doesn’t fit at all with the flow of your story. Keep all action, all lull and all character interactions befitting with the type of story you’re trying to tell.

But more or less, it should end with a chance, that split second, where Major Character’s feet land firmly on the dry topside of a sundried road, and they drop the wire, electrocuting every pursuing gator and leaving all the creatures in their wake as they rush up the highway, finally safe and able to begin making it to their destination.

Like an adrenaline rush, after the Climax comes the Falling Action, the patching of the electrical burn and the dehydration beginning to actually take its toll. It’s the Coast Guard helicopter flying ahead that was called in by someone in the group chat, a rope ladder being thrown down for Major Character to scramble up. Its the relieved cry of Major Character’s loved one that was called to be told they were found, alive and…mostly okay. The Resolution follows when they land in Savannah, Georgia, Major Character being released after an overnight hospital stay. It’s the boxes volunteer salvagers managed to retrieve from the Hatchback, it’s the Greyhound ticket to the smoky mountains.

It’s the moment you get to close your computer, and breathe, yourself.

Now, if you’re a single-novel writer, congrats! You just finished your story! But if you’re not, if you intend to put Major Character through more hell: The end of this story is the inciting incident for your series. I mean, yeah, they made it to the mountains, and so far, Major Character is comfortable; but you know what’s in the mountains? Mountain lions. Mountain lions and forest fires.

That's it for how to structure PLOT A! Click here for more information on how to structure your PLOT B.

CREDIT TO DEVILISHLYDELIGHTFULDIVIDERS FOR THE DIVIDER. Seriously their stuff is so cute go look at it.

#Arkwright Academics #preptober #nanowrimo #writeblr #writing #writing advice #KayCee Rambles #story writing

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hyperfixatinglove · 2 years

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Hii!!! 1, 6, 10 and 13 for the meta asks!😁😁

1. how did you discover your f/o’s content?

I think I discovered it through yt? I watch a lot of gaming videos so sometimes yt just recommends random games to me and I think wat//ch dogs was one of them. I vaguely also knew abt the graphics etc controversy because I sometimes watch top x number videos about games.

I wasn't interested in Aiden's source at the time (this must've been around 2015 or something idk I have the worst memory with dates / years) and wasn't for long time. Suddenly his game just became interesting to me and I hyperfixated on it big time. The rest is history or something.

6. if your f/o is from a series, which episode/movie/game/book of their source content is your favorite?

First game obviously.

He's also in Legion (2nd sequel) as DLC character but his design is so far off what I imagine Older!Aiden to be AND Jackson is so wildly different to what I imagined him to be at 26??

Does this look like the same person to you??? I get that ppl don't stay the same (Jacks is 8 in 1) but?? this??

Also the downgrade of Aiden just...

I'm going to say it; that beard does NOT fit him.

Aside from.. superficial stuff like this, the way his dialogue is written is far too generic (at least in main game or something? I can't shake the feeling his dialogue is off somehow even when his VA did reprise the role or I don't like change this badly lmao) and doesn't FEEL like HIM at all. Also him working WITH Dedsec as whole when in Chicago he explicitly refused is bit, wtf moment for me (yes I'm aware that both San Francisco and London Dedsec are different from Chicago!Dedsec and his mind can change but?? still??) Also I can't see Aiden tolerating Wrench at all. He didn't as DLC reveals so anyway.

Also the whole "he's in coma and his mind is this Silent Hill-esque hellscape bc he never moved on from Lena's death in last 10+ years for majority of DLC" plot is just.. I'm letting out the biggest most annoyed sigh. (Him digging his own grave in the coma dream was kinda neat as it's sad tho)

All in all his inclusion felt like poor attempt at some sort of pandering or something. No effort.

Also he's mentioned to be homeless in Legion?? When in books he has safe room in house he rents to elderly?? He has his container safe houses?? He can just steal money and rent some place??

The only thing I kinda give to Legion is canonically him & Jacks & Nicky had no contact for years. Also the fact that Jacks is bitter and angry at Aiden bc he aggravated his PTSD and other shit.

I did like his short cameo in 2, where he's stuck in cell and 2's protagonist helps him out a little so he escapes by himself (and he's explicitly there to shut down human trafficking operations).

I'm kinda iffy but kinda love how he's famous in both 2 and Legion and his name and nickname Fox is known widely in hacker circles as sorta celebrity / legend type. I love it bc it's cute & makes for sorta interesting narrative but also I'm iffy bc I want him to be able to be under radar so he doesn't have to move all the damn time but he did become famous at the very end of 1 so I guess I gotta deal.

10. if you could change one thing about your f/o’s source content, would you? what would you change?

Either have the game explore more deeply how and why Aiden acts and thinks the way he does OR Clara survives

If we don't talk about story things, I'd change the gameplay from all the damn car chases to heavily feature ´hacking and potential gunfight / sneaking opportunities

13. do you have a favorite line your f/o has ever said

Favorite line I didn't mention earlier?

"You're not the first woman to tell me that" after Clara said she'd "open his world" in reference to her phone she gives Aiden that has some Dedsec stuff that makes it easier for him to hack stuff or smth. (Clara's observation of Aiden's intimidation being "very textbook" is my favorite line of hers)

Also the lines where he wonders did he get Bedbug killed are obviously my favorite because FOR ONCE Aiden actually stops to think about larger consequences of his own actions also he sounds pretty panicked there.

#vigilante #letters of love #thank you!#I try not to feel obligated to answer with ushio every time you send asks bc ur ygo mutual-#morbid tw

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maybege · 1 year

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Hi Miss May I know I haven’t been around much

I’m listening to alive from the whispering pines while working today , thought of you

I had a thought about lord huron and Paz again the other day, but it has escapes me. Maybe it’ll come back to me at some point

Also very random but you asked for thots the other day, and for some reason the character I’ve been fixated on is Bob from Top Gun Maverick???? Idk why. He’s so nice and sweet and quiet but in my experience those are usually the type who can absolutely ruin you behind closed doors

Anyway gotta go back to work to survive in this capitalist hellscape! Hope you’re well

-💛

Hellooo my dear! How nice it is to see you in my inbox 🥺 literally every time a Lord song comes on shuffle, I’m like “oh I hope 💛 is having a good day today” and so I hope that you’re having a good day today too, despite the capitalist hellhole that has all of us in its clutches 😔

I have to admit I’ve never seen Top Gun, so I don’t have a face connect with that name BUT I trust your taste in fictional men and the dichotomy of sewer and calm while absolutely filthy in the sheets always has me 👀🤌

#may answers #💛 anon

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bluenotemagpie · 1 year

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❔ 💗 for the WIP ask game!

i am going to use this as an opportunity to talk about my doctor who fic again because i've been THINKING about it again & i want to start working on it again!! i always tend to return to it after a busy period of work, and having read some very good fics lately... yeah, i'm feeling inspired

(context: I have had the idea for this fic for literally a decade and finally feel like i have the determination/writing chops to actually pull it off)

❔Choose a random WIP and talk about it.

SO, the premise of the stars look down, for those of you who haven't seen me be unhinged about this before, and because i'm constantly trying to convey more accurately what i'm being unhinged about (i'm going to try to convey this while resorting to as little canon-specific language as possible because the episodes that inspired this aired literally like fourteen years ago & i don't expect other people to remember all the details lmao):

picture this: your name is mickey smith. your mother died, your father left, your grandmother raised you until she, too, passed away, and the girlfriend you were ready to spend the rest of your life with left you on a whim, on the worst night of your life - after you were kidnapped and nearly killed by creatures from beyond who mimicked your identity and trapped you underground. she left for a year with barely a goodbye to you, nothing to her family, and her mother - who has known you since you were born - thinks you murdered her. until she swans back in, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, having seen the stars.

you try to be satisfied with being proven innocent. you can go back to your normal life, try to make this very long-distance thing with your girlfriend work. but it doesn't work. eventually, you invite yourself to travel with her & her new man (time-travelling, spacefaring alien with good hair) because yeah, maybe you're third-wheeling, but at least you're third-wheeling on a spaceship and that's better than third-wheeling in peckham.

but then the three of you, through an accident of fate, slip through a crack between universes. and in this other universe is the version of you that you never thought you could be: brave, tough, a leader. because this world is falling apart, it's a dystopian nightmare in need of a resistance movement - and this other you, on the surface, he's the leader of that resistance.

then he dies, and you stay behind to fill his shoes, because someone's still gotta save the world (and your grandmother's still alive; in this world your negligence didn't lead to her death because this world's you was competent and responsible. you can never tell her your true name, because you cannot bear to tell her that her grandson is dead - you cannot shatter her world like that. but you can pretend to be him, for her sake, and for the sake of your own selfish heart.)

the thing is, this other world's version of you led a resistance, and now only one other member of the resistance survives. he's agreed to help you because the world's at stake and you've proven yourself capable enough, but it's clear that he wishes the other-you were still alive instead. and as you go to paris first (the city of love) to save it from the dystopian hellscape this world could become, you come to realize that your new partner never touches you, never looks at you for too long (except sometimes, when he thinks you're not looking, he looks at you for much too long indeed.) he flinches when the two of you stumble across tourists proposing marriage at the top of the eiffel tower and you realize -

maybe this world's version of you meant more to him than you thought. by god, do you have some awfully big shoes to fill.

(and of course, because who am i without writing codependent motherfuckers with serious baggage: there's drama! there's romance! there's only one bed! there's tender wound-patching! there is pining for years!)

(and eventually, when you've both gotta start flipping through universes like pages in a book to try to find the one person who can help you save all of reality, you're forced to confront all the people you could have been and never will be... as well as how scarily easy it is to tell each other apart from every other parallel universe self, because that's how well you know each other)

💗Is there a scene you can’t wait to write for a WIP?

For the same fic, there are two: a funeral that occurs several years after the character in question actually died; and a certain conversation between Jake (who has caught feelings for the parallel-universe version of his dead boyfriend and is coping through several years' worth of Repression) and Jackie Tyler (who met the parallel-universe of her dead husband and nearly immediately decided to begin a relationship with him again; and who's the first person to clock exactly what's going on unsaid between Jake and her daughter's ex-boyfriend.) They're such good foils to each other and I'm exciteeeed

(there's another scene with Jake and Mickey/Ricky's gran which I've already written and can't wait to post because it's maybe the most tragic thing I've ever written, but I've gotta write almost all of the surrounding context for that arc still lol)

#crunchywrites #raptor writes #doctor who fic #thank you for the questions friend!!#mickey smith #jake simmonds #i'm thinking of changing the title of this fic slightly so my tag for it will just be #my dw magnum opus

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felixrivercatton · 2 years

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lodging complaints

1. cold

2. lonely

3. tired of my life but i also know im mentally ill and if i do uproot my entire life and change my entire personality its not going to fix that (i know this because ive done it before like multiple times) and i just feel cursed like im in this endless loop of being unhappy. im tired of being unhappy. im tired of being depressed.

4. mostly im just tired of fighting. you know? like i want to exist but i dont want to struggle about it anymore. if i live comfortably im disappointing someone and i cant stand that. if i live comfortably its not sustainable, anyways.

5. i think the thing is ive never felt like i was “meant for this world” and i know i’m not ~special~ in that regard i mean most people aren’t MEANT to live in a capitalist hellscape but we do and there’s no escape so we all just suck it up and survive bc no matter how much anyone bitches and complains and recognizes that it isn’t natural lmfao it’s reality and always will be

6. just tired in general

7. gotta go get ready for work

#negative

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once-and-future-princess · 2 years

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What's In My Urban Adventure Core Bag?

(because we all don't live in bucolic wilderness)

Look, like many of you, I love good far-over-misty-mountains-cold, but it's just not for everyone. I posit that you can have just as good adventures in the concrete jungle! Think of it as high fantasy vs urban fantasy. And I've seen a lot of posts about what people have packed for hiking or adventures in the wilderness. As someone who was a professional wanderer tour guide, these were the parts of my world I carried on my back when my job was to walk around the city, and how I survived. Consider it an Urban Adventure packing list!

You're going to want either a backpack, or a very large bag. I used to carry big put-your-life-in-here purses, and while that has uses, on most days I carry a small cross body bag. But for work, or if I'm going on a Wander, I will take my small backpack with me.

You're going to want a water bottle, but unlike forest wanderings, in the urban hellscape you'll run into plenty of opportunities to refill. Most cities have drinkable tap water even in bathrooms , and in a pinch a lot of restaurants will refill a water bottle no questions asked. So focus on a light, easy to carry amount

Obviously you'll want money on the transportation card your city uses. Always have more than you think you'll need. BUT also carry change. I try to have one there-and-back-again in quarters at all times.

External phone charger, and plug. Goes without saying.

I like to have a little subway map app on my phone . Helps navigate offline.

A "variety pack" of medicines. I have a small unmarked pill bottle which I fill with Advils, iron pills (I have chronically low iron) antacids, headache pills, and allergy pills. Just know what pill looks like what and you'll be fine. You never know when a headache will strike or some of the wonderful food you tried might disagree with you

That being said, cash. Half the fun of urban Adventure Core is all the cool food and things you can buy. You don't want to miss out on some spectacular street food or roadside artist's painting because they don't accept card.

Hand sanitizer. Because covid. But also because cities are dirty! The only good thing to come from covid is EVERYONE provides hand sanitizer these days, but I still like having my own.

In winter, you'll want a pair of gloves. In summer consider a travel sized bottle of sunscreen and a hat you can fold up. In VERY COLD WEATHER, I also used to have those heating pads you can put in your shoes or gloves. I worked outdoors, you do what you gotta do!

Travel size deodorant. If you're the type who wears skirts, and your thighs touch, a small travel sized deodorant , or better yet a blister block, will make all that go away. Never leave home without it

And then there were things that made it into my bag that I don't remember PACKING per se, but they were in there. You pick up stuff as a guide. Ponytail holders, pens, tampons, a cheap pair of headphones. Things just ...wind up places and never get taken out because they might be useful.

There you have it! A 101 packing list from an Urban Adventurer. Call me the Strider of 42nd Street!

#adventure core #adventurecore #urban adventure core #quest core #what's in my bag #prince core #knight core

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alpaca-clouds · 8 months

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Neurodiversity from an Evolutionary Perspective

I spoke yesterday about how neurodiversity is a bit of Schrödinger's Disability today. We neurodiverse people get all the backlash of being diabled, and all the discrimination, but we rarely get disability benefits of any sort.

But today I want to talk about something else: Evolutionarily speaking most neurodiverse people are not disabled. Our disability stems entirely from the fact that we just do not function in a 9-5 capitalist hellscape.

Just look at it from the perspective that our species actually evolved to gather and hunt - and maybe also cultivate some stuff. (Given how long ago we did that, you could argue that this also shows in our genes.)

See, by now a lot of specialists think, that both autism and ADHD are very underdiagnosed, because even within the field a lot of people are looking for a certain, stereotypic way for the neurodiversity to show. With modern diagnostic criteria there is a good chance that about 5% of all people have ADHD and/or autism. Which is... a lot.

But the thing is that it actually makes a lot of sense. Because evolutionarily it would totally have been an advantage.

Let me talk about something we did at university yesterday. We got a lot of random shapes on a picture and we were supposed to find the T and the X between these shapes. Something I could do within less than a second, while three of my fellow students were unable to find the T (which was rotated) at all. Because my brain processes visual information completely differently.

And this... is evolutionarily an advantage, right? Just imagine being a hunter-gatherer and going through the forest or the savanna. And now you have someone among you, who is able to see a prey animal instantly, because of how they process visual information. Or who realizes them being stalked by a predator. Or them finding fruits and other things.

Neurodiverse people are also very capable of having a very different approach to problem solving. Which again would have a small tribe easier survive. Doubly so with the hyperfocus that neurodiverse people can have. Which totally is an evolutionary advantage for a group to have. Who knows. Maybe the first person to make fire was a neurodiverse person hyperfocusing on this task.

Also, there is the very common believe that people with ADHD specifically were probably very well adapt at hunting for several reasons.

So, yeah. This is so very common, because evolutionarily it was an advantage. From an evolutionary perspective it makes sense that it is so very common.

You have to remember: Modern Homo Sapiens as a species is around 160 000 years old. We settled down sometime between 10 000 and 15 000 years ago. So, just from an evolutionary perspective us having settled down is a very, very new thing. And not to mention, that the modern working culture has been around for not even quite 100 years. Office jobs have been a thing for even less.

And I can tell you: If you leave me out and about outside. I am good. Like, give me some nature observatory duty or something, putting up trail cams, what not. I am good. I can work for 12 hours straight (because hyperfocus). But sit me in the office for just 6 hours, and you will have me crawling up the walls, because that is just not what my brain does.

Ideally I am gonna need a job, that involves a lot of research and going outside. Which is why I hope to either go into Digital Humanities or the Environmental Geoinformatics. Because that is stuff I work well with.

If you gotta put me in an office job, you might as well shoot me right. Because my brain just doed not work like that.

#autism #adhd #audhd #neurodiversity #diability rights #evolution #biology #human evolution #early humans

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mythicamagic · 3 years

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“Call it a truce”

(For the prompt if you’d like)

They'd crossed paths eight times now inside the godforsaken maze. Naraku had placed them under some sort of spell- Kagome wasn’t totally sure if her friends were also somewhere inside. It had all happened way too quickly. One second she’d been fighting alongside her comrades- the next, waking up inside a bizarre hellscape.

Sadly the only person she’d seen thus far was Sesshoumaru of all demons. When they’d first bumped into each other- blue and gold had narrowed- both quickly turning in the opposite directions.

Gradually, however, time wore on. A continuous mist obscured every corner of the black maze, its towering walls strangled by twisting, thorny vines. Red skies hung overhead, a barrier likely preventing Sesshoumaru from flying upwards, otherwise he would've escaped by now.

Kagome had just one arrow and one weathered bow. No food, and no water. Just the clothes on her back and strung out nerves, wits starting to fray at the edges. Her footsteps sounded too loud in the empty space. The mist kept rolling, making her paranoid- imagining salivating demons and evil spirits haunting her steps.

Am I going to die in here?

Gritting blunt teeth, Kagome let out a frustrated noise- wrapping her hands around the nearest thorny vines and letting reiki burst free from her fingertips. Maybe she could just blast her way through the wall. Pink light glowed like a signal flare, shimmering and giving her a brief taste of renewed hope.

“It will not work.”

She frowned, registering Sesshoumaru’s acerbic tone. Just as he’d said, when her holy light died, the thorns remained.

Kagome glanced over her shoulder, finding him closer than expected. She shifted warily to maintain some distance. They’d refrained from talking so far during their encounters in the maze. This was unexpected. And worrying. If Sesshoumaru was out of options, things were dire.

“Flying is a no go, I’m guessing?"

He stiffly nodded in response, head tilting back to gaze hatefully at the high walls. Kagome shivered, wrapping both arms around herself. “Damn it. I have no idea what to do. I can sense Naraku’s youki but it's everywhere so there's no chance of pinpointing him. It’s soaked into the air like gasoline."

"I am also unable to locate the wretch."

Kagome blinked, glad he was reciprocating conversation.

"We're locked in a spell or under a curse, I’ve got no doubt about that. I just don’t know if these are our real bodies or not…”

Were they trapped somewhere mentally? Caged like birds?

Sesshoumaru levelled a look down to her hands, gesturing with a claw. “The cuts do not hurt?”

Kagome blinked, flexing her fingers. She hadn’t even realised they’d been pricked by the thorns. “N-no.”

“Then it appears he has either somehow trapped us within a space that has absorbed our conscious minds or put us in an area that dulls the senses. Perhaps a keeper box of some kind," Sesshoumaru said easily, as though he did this all the time.

Kagome’s heart pumped at a dizzying speed. Keeper box. She'd been in one of those before. The face of sage Tokajin came to mind. “Crap,” she whispered.

"Unpleasant memories, miko?" a lofty, entertained tone brushed her hearing.

Kagome sneered half-heartedly, "it's nothing."

Sesshoumaru's eyes glowed, smiling. As if he could see right through her. "Hn."

“We gotta get out of here," she said dismissively. "Since this is Naraku we’re dealing with- I doubt just finding the centre of this maze will let us get outta here and break the curse, and knowing him there’s no exit.”

“Hn, and yet I can think of nothing else after trying everything."

Kagome gave him a sweeping glance over, swallowing. She hadn’t seen him since he’d nearly killed Kohaku- still thankful he’d released the mind controlled boy.

They were still technically enemies despite a shared goal of killing Naraku.

Steeling herself, Kagome took a breath. She then boldly stuck a hand out towards him. “Let’s work together. We haven’t got much choice. Call it a truce.”

Silence.

Kagome chanced a look at his face.

Sesshoumaru merely stared at the offered hand unblinkingly. Kagome giggled weakly. “A-ah, you shake it. It’s an ‘across the seas’ type of gesture to show we’re sealing a deal.”

Interest livened his animalistic gaze. He briefly seemed considering, perhaps wondering about her origins. Long fingers unfurled from his palm, clasping her hand strongly. The shock of skin to skin contact and sharp claws nearly jerked Kagome enough to rip her hand free. She forced herself to stay still, feeling a surge of something shoot down to her toes.

He was warmer than expected. It surprised her that callouses roughened his palm, likely from years of swordplay. She'd always figured he was too inhumanly perfect to have such a thing. Sesshoumaru blinked slowly, remaining locked in a stare. For a moment, Kagome dumbly admired his pretty white lashes.

She caught herself staring and briskly shook his hand, prying her fingers free before gesturing to several pathways, cheeks red. “S-so which way?”

Mokomoko’s soft fur caressed the bare flesh of her lower thigh in passing as Sesshoumaru stepped towards one. “I have yet to take this path. Stay close, troublesome miko," he threw over one shoulder. "I will not slow down for you.”

“Please don’t. You walk slow enough as it is,” Kagome griped, following.

---

Demons began littering the narrow, claustrophobic spaces within the maze. Kagome had to duck and weave around Sesshoumaru as he killed them with acid or fierce swipes of his claws. It forced them to get up close and personal, occasionally plastering miko and Daiyoukai together.

His scent wafted into her unwilling nose more than once- masculine and sharp, reminding her of thunderstorms. Since she couldn’t use her reiki with much finesse yet and the close quarters put her archery skills at a disadvantage, Kagome tried her best to be helpful.

“Behind you!” she’d yell, ducking under his arm before grasping his sleeve. “On your right!”

Sesshoumaru dispatched enemies without argument or complaint, calmly moving on once they lay dead.

As time dragged on, Kagome’s legs began to ache from the endless walking. Her stomach grumbled near constantly. Her limbs and body were becoming weak.

She didn’t breathe a word about it- though noticed Sesshoumaru’s lingering attention. Turning a corner, she stumbled, an arm catching her around the waist, steadying.

Kagome’s belly fluttered, and she quickly straightened. “Thanks.”

“Hn.”

They book occasional breaks, but respite was near impossible with the continued droves of enemies. After what she could only guess to be at least 17 hours- though it felt like days, they finally arrived at the centre of the maze. Exhausted, Kagome kept a hand buried within mokomoko to keep her upright, leaning against the stability he offered. They’d shed a lot of restraint about touch around hour 9 of their journey.

As first suspected however, there was nothing in the middle of the maze. Just a plain space with a single fountain. They hadn’t come across a single exit either.

Kagome’s knees quivered a little, “d-do you have a plan B?” she rasped, throat dry. What she wouldn’t give for some water.

Sesshoumaru stared grimly ahead, slowly lowering his calm attention to her. If she could hazard a guess, he was likely thinking he could survive. He’d weather the storm of hunger and dehydration much longer than she.

“I suspect the reason Naraku lingers is because he predicted I would kill you,” his velvety voice was completely at odds with his words.

Kagome stiffened, leaning slightly away from the warmth of luxurious furs. “...That would make sense,” the admission slipped out, “he’s a sadistic prick. He’s probably watching us right now, getting his kicks from seeing us struggle.”

Sesshoumaru turned to her, lifting a clawed hand. The sharp points gleamed. They could tear through her supple flesh and bones with ease. Kagome had witnessed it enough times to know.

Rendered completely exhausted though, she had little room left for fear. She stared at him blandly, falling quiet.

He arched a brow, resting those deadly claws against her flushed skin, gradually unfurling to hold her neck. “You will not resist?”

“I’ve never taken you to be the kinda guy who would take the easy way out,” Kagome muttered, raising her chin. “Am I wrong?”

Was it her imagination or did his pupils dilate a touch?

She shivered, feeling the pads of his fingers drag against the nape of her delicate neck, thumb resting at her throat.

“No,” he rumbled softly, gripping tighter and drawing her in closer. “But since we have an audience, miko,” his voice lowered, “let us give him a show.”

Blue eyes widened- seconds before lips crashed to hers. Kagome gasped- and a sinuous tongue took advantage, shoving inside to plunder her mouth. Sensation slammed into her gut. Suddenly she was immediately aware of everything. The warmth of his palm, the dry rub of his callouses along her neck. The goosebumps rising on her flesh. How his tongue skilfully played, twined and slid against her own- and she found herself responding.

His lips were hot and quick across her own, firm and yielding and then parting to meet her tongue with his anew. Kagome’s breath shuddered. Her entire body thrummed. She found herself touching the fine, soft locks of silver hair behind his ear, strands running through her fingers like water. Their mouths broke apart, and Kagome could only give a breathy gasp as he sucked along the bent arch of her throat.

“Behind me, to the left,” he whispered, kissing her flesh bruisingly hard.

“I know,” she panted.

It happened quickly. They moved in sync- Kagome reaching for her bow and nocking her single arrow while Sesshoumaru turned, angling her to fire at the faint ripple in the sky they’d both sensed the second they’d kissed.

While the blazing firework of pure holy energy streaked into the air, the Daiyoukai followed its progress, flying with Kagome in tow. She held on around his shoulders, praying with all her might it would break through.

Her arrow pierced the demonic barrier- shattering the weak spot immediately. Sesshoumaru broke through, leaving the world of red skies and unsolvable mazes behind.

---

Kagome sucked in a gasping, strangled breath, shooting upright.

“Kagome! She’s awake, guys!”

Putting a hand to her head, she looked to her side- only to be greeted with the sight of Sesshoumaru sitting up from the ground, both of them having been sprawled out. Around them, battle raged. Inuyasha was fighting diligently, swiping madly at continuous rounds of regenerating tentacles.

Miroku and Sango seemed to be on guard duty, having been defending their unconscious bodies. Shippo immediately buried his face in Kagome’s arm, holding onto her. “You’ve been asleep for a good hour after you were both hit by that attack! Naraku kept trying to kill you! Ah- I’m so glad you’re safe!”

Kagome comforted him with a few gentle pats upon his head, murmuring softly. The shifting of weight caught her attention, and she watched as Sesshoumaru stood. He sneered softly to himself, “I do not know why you saw fit to protect this one, but I did not need your aid, humans.”

“I told ya!” Inuyasha shouted from somewhere in the distance.

“We couldn’t let you be absorbed by Naraku or he’d be even more formidable,” Sango griped.

“What my friends mean to say is- you’re welcome, Lord Sesshoumaru,” Miroku amiably smoothed over the situation.

Sesshoumaru grunted, securing his swords in place. Then, slowly, his eyes lowered.

Kagome exhaled a shuddering breath. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, cheeks burning with all the voracity of a fever, chest light and heavy all at once. Sesshoumaru’s gaze fell to the subtle parting of her mouth, before looking her in the eye for just one more lingering moment. He then moved out from behind the protection Sango and Miroku offered, racing headfirst into battle.

He just did it to break the spell, that’s all.

He’d kissed her to help flush out a weak spot from their enemy, which had opened from Naraku's shock- having lost brief control of the spell. Thinking about it as anything more than that would be foolish.

Shaking herself, Kagome followed suit. She grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow, pushing down all confused thoughts and sensations that Sesshoumaru’s wicked mouth had elicited- entering the fray alongside her friends.

#sesskag #sesshoumaru x kagome #sesskag fanfiction #sesshoumaru #kagome higurashi

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socialistexan · 3 years

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"this is Texas, hun" I literally live in Texas. I'm going through the same shit right now. I'm freezing and starving too and I'm aware what little rights workers have. Just inferiorating to see people like you always complaining about it and pretending like you care about unions, organized movements, and socialism and then going out of your way to do nothing at all. This would be the perfect time to push back in any way, shape, or form. Yet while everyone else stayed home you went out of your way to go to work? You would sprint across a picket line if you could.

This ain't a fucking picket line, man, this wasn't even organized action on their part. All the people who didn't come in are part time workers with the expectations that a full time worker like me has and if don't even try to meet will face far harsher consequences. One of the PTers tried and fell and hurt herself, the other got stuck in the snow.

The story would be vastly different if this were an organized act of labor, but it fucking isn't. Weirdly enough different situations are different.

I've gotta worry about keeping a roof over my head and food on the table, sorry but it's just me. I have no one else to fall back on. My family can't (or won't) take me in. I don't have enough savings to last more than a little while. I will not take resources from people that really need it when I don't have to (charity, social safety net, ect). I refuse to be a burden on people I care about and as a trans woman in this hellscape I really do feel like I have to stand on my own here.

I'm sorry that somethings are about survival and not ideology, sometimes context fucking matters.

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kiirokero · 3 years

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My Hope (JHS)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst, Lil bit of Fluff, Mutual Pining, (old?)Best Friends to lovers

Word Count: 2,870

Summary: You were only trying to forget the love you knew you could never have, but now you were trapped in a hell. You’ve had enough and you find yourself at the doorstep of the one who you truly loved, soaking wet and broken.

Warnings: Mentions of a domestic abusive relationship, verbal, emotional, light physical abuse (bruising), manipulation, gaslighting (kinda?), yelling, degradation (and not the smexy kind), light panicking, abusive isolation, just a lot of horrible shit.

Note: PLEASE don’t read if the warning topics are triggering for you.

Cold. That's all I could feel right now. My hands like icicles as the unforgiving frost of the city bit at the tips of my ears and nose. Was I really doing the right thing? My legs aching as I continued my journey to the only place I could turn to. He said he'd change. He always said that. Every time. Maybe this time will be different. How many times has it been? 5? 10? I've lost count, but I was stuck.

1... 2... 3... I counted my steps to keep my mind off of the situation that plagued it. It was his fault, right? It wasn't mine? Would he have acted like that if it was anybody else? He's always been jealous. Insecure. Reassurance a constant sound coming from my vocal cords, only because I didn’t want to do the alternative.

18... 19... 20... Am I walking too slow? I should be there by now. Am I lost? Will I succumb to the cold in an alleyway all by myself? My feet like the stone statues that stood in the middle of the city. Their empty stares the only thing to keep me company. The patter of rain the only music filling my ears. Lonely. I was always so lonely. Even when the arms of the person I falsely gave my heart to were wrapped around my ever dying body.

50... 51... 52... What happened to me? I used to be so happy. My smile a genuine painting on my face rather than a mask constantly in my hand. I used to have friends, family; I used to have him...A piece of me was taken away with every hateful word spat at me. I was no better than the cold stone men. The fire in my soul reduced to a pathetic ember. My glowing skin diminished into scratchy leather. My will to keep going now nothing more than a scrap of paper. Burnt. Torn. Crumpled.

87... 88... 89... I had to do it. I couldn't take it anymore. My life had been ripped away from me. He trapped me in a hellscape with false promises of love. Lured me in with a chance to forget. To forget about him. Happiness... I wanted it back. I want my friends back. I wanted my family back. My hobbies, my freedom, him.

I wanted Hoseok back.

"Who was that?" My boyfriend, Hajoon, snapped as I closed the door. "The new neighbor..." I faltered. Hajoon just scoffed and stood up. Walking towards me as my heart rate spiked. Not again. "Oh really? And what did he want?" He taunted, annoyance written all over his face. "H-he just wanted to introduce himself..." I stuttered. "Why are you stuttering? I swear you'd never survive without me. You're so pathetic." He huffed as he harshly grabbed my chin, making me look at him. "Don't talk to him again, got it?" I nodded and he let go. "You love me and you'd never leave me. Right Y/N?" He questioned. "Right... I'd never leave you..."

"Hobi! How's the tour going!" I exclaimed, happy to get a call from my best friend. "Y/N! It's going well! It's been a blast performing and meeting Army's." He chirped. Hajoon was out, meaning that I could talk to Hoseok without worry. Hajoon never liked Hoseok. Whenever I would mention my beloved best friend, he would get angry. He would yell and me tell me I shouldn't talk to him. I didn't listen though, Hoseok has been with me through everything. I could never drop him. Never. "Why haven't you been visiting more, Y/N? We miss you!" Hoseok asked, a hint of sadness laced in his voice. "Ah, I would but... Hajoon doesn't like when I go out without him..." I hesitated. "Y/n... Hajoon doesn't own you. You can do things without his approval. You're an adult, okay?" Hoseok stated. "I know, but..." I froze as I heard the door open.

"I-I gotta go, I'll talk to you when I can..." I panicked, hanging up the phone before Hoseok could say anything. "Y/n? Who are you talking to?" Hajoon called out. "M-my mom!" I called back, tears stinging my eyes but I refused to let them fall. "She just wanted to check up on me..." I quickly deleted my call history, leaving a call from my mom earlier today at the top. I knew that if Hajoon didn't believe me, he'd look at my call history. The last time I lied about who I was talking to, he yelled at me for hours. Hajoon walked into our shared bedroom staring coldly at me. "What did you guys talk about?" He asked. "She was just asking how my life is... telling me how they are..." I mumbled. "What did you say?" He commanded me to tell him. "I- I said I was fine..." Hajoon nodded, satisfied, and laid down on the bed, beckoning me into his arms.

I complied, curling up next to him, my head in his chest. He knew what he was doing was wrong. He knew how he was treating me was wrong. He feared getting caught. Scared I'd run away. Slipping from his grasp. He was insecure. He needed someone to control in order to feel that he had power. Why did it have to be me? "I love you." He mumbled. I hesitated, not wanting to say those sacred words, but my mind when back to what happened every time I didn't say it back. 'I give you everything, yet you're so ungrateful?' 'You just take and take, don't you?' 'You'd have nothing without me!' 'You need me.'

"I- I love you too..."

"Where the hell we're you?!" I winced at the sound of my yelling boyfriend. "I was out with friends... I told you last night that they wanted to go see a movie with me..." I mumbled. Fear and anxiety already coursing through my body. "And I thought I told you that I didn't want you to go?!" He screamed. Hoseok's words ran through my mind 'You're an adult'. That's the only reason I could pick myself up and go out. "I..." I stumbled out, "I'm an adult... I can make my own decisions..." The room was silent. I looked up to see Hajoon looking at me with an unreadable expression.

"Oh, really?" He said in a monotone manner, scaring me even more. He wasn't yelling anymore, but I could tell he was mad, he was really mad. He started stepping towards me, causing me to back up, hitting my back against the empty living room wall. "Really?" He said again, this time in a more spiteful tone. He harshly grabbed my wrist, squeezing it tight. I cried out at the sudden pain. "You're an adult? You don't act like it. You're like a child leeching off of me, ungratefully taking everything from me, yet you want to say you're an adult?!" My eyes were watering and my heart rammed against my ribcage, I could hear the sound in my ears. "You made me quit my job... So I wouldn't have my own money..." I whispered. But he heard it, and he squeezed my wrist even tighter. "I do this because I love you." He stated. But I've had it, I've had enough. "No! No, you don't! You don't love me! This isn't love!"

I struggled in his grip, managing to get free as I bolted for the door. I had to get out of there. I burst the door open and ran down the street. Ignoring the yells that came from behind me. I just kept running and running. Rain roughly hitting my face, mixing with the salty tears slipping from my eyes.

I looked down at my bruising wrist, the sight not new to me. The bruise was like a bracelet to me now. An accessory I would wear to remind me I made him mad, and he went too far. I curled my knees against my chest, cold and wet, shivering in front of my best friend's door. I took my phone out of my pocket. 9 pm. When I got home it was 7, was I really running for that long?

Hoseok's place was a 30-minute drive from mine, but walking/running was a different story. The twists and turns of the city streets adding on extra time to my commute. I didn't want to call him. It was Sunday night. Every Sunday night, Hoseok would go to BigHit's dance studio and practice more by himself, starting at 6 and ending at 8. Then the long drive back home. That was his Sunday routine. I didn't want to bother him. His dancing was important to him, and he loved it. I didn't want to ruin his night by interrupting him. I didn't want to be a bother.

Irrational fears ran through my head, torturing me. Did I have any right to be here? Would he be mad at me? Why would he be mad at me? Please don't be mad at me. I can't handle it. I can't handle the yelling, the screaming. I can't handle the hate, the fake love. I couldn't handle being trapped. A dying bird in a rusty cage. I wanted freedom, craved it. Tonight, I finally got it. Now I just needed the warm, comforting arms and the smooth voice of my best friend to tell me everything is going to be okay.

"Y-Y/n?" I looked up at the sound of my name and saw a worried-looking Hoseok, still dressed in workout clothes and a duffle bag in hand. As soon as I saw his face, tears spilled out of my eyes, "Hobi?" I hiccuped. He wasted no time rushing to me, kneeling in front of me, holding me close. "Y/n, you're soaking wet! What happened?" I couldn't answer him as I choked out tears. Hoseok could tell I was too hysterical to give him an answer, so he picked me up and walked inside his apartment.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I need you to calm down, Y/n. Can you do that for me?" Hoseok comforted me as brought me to the bathroom and sat me on the side of the tub. I nodded my head and Hoseok ran me through a breathing exercise. It didn’t calm me down entirely, but at least I could speak now. Hoseok kneeled in front of me and held one of my hands as the other one worked on wiping my tears away. "I'm sorry..." I whispered. "No, Y/n, I don't what to hear any of that. You have nothing to be sorry for." Hoseok stated, "But, what happened?"

"Hajoon... Hajoon happened." I said, his name like tar in my mouth. Hoseok's face contorted in disgust. "I knew it..." He whispered to himself. I could see the mental battle he was having in his head plastered on his face. It read guilt and regret. He stood up and walked out of the bathroom. He soon returned with a black hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, handing them to me. "Go ahead and change, I don't want my sunshine to get sick." My heart skipped a beat at the old nickname he always used for me.

Sunshine. He's been calling me that since forever. But when I got in a relationship with Hajoon, he stopped out of respect, since sunshine sounded so loving to Hajoon. I forgot just how much I missed it. Hajoon was never that loving to me, Hoseok treated me better than him from the start. Loving Hoseok scared me. He had a dream. He was a star and I was a nobody compared to him. I was scared I wasn't good enough for him. So when the puppy love between me and Hajoon started, I took it as an opportunity to keep me from impeding Hoseok and his dream. But it backfired, it backfired so badly.

I stepped out of the bathroom, walking to the living room that seemed like a distant memory now. I remembered when I would practically spend days straight at Hoseok's house, even if he had work, it was my second home until Hajoon ripped that away from me. He told me that it was unfaithful to spend so much time at Hoseok’s, and not wanting to hurt his feelings, I listened to him. I was so stupid. Hoseok walked out the kitchen, dressed in lounge clothes, leftover takeout in hand as he motioned for me to sit down. I complied silently. We said nothing to each other, but we didn't have to. We didn't need to fill the silence with conversation just yet. We just needed each other.

Hoseok set the food down on the table in front of us and sat down, grabbing pieces of food with a pair of chopsticks and feeding me. The loving gesture almost made me sob. After he deemed I was fed well, he wrapped his arms securely around me, holding me tight. Afraid that if he were to let go, someone would take me away from him again. "You can talk when you're ready." He whispered to me, petting my hair lovingly. I did just that. I talked and talked. Going on and on about how Hajoon would treat me, how he would yell and scream, how he would lash out than apologize afterward, promising to change. I told him how he didn't like me hanging out with my friends or visiting family. If I went out, he had to go with me. If I was on the phone, he had to know who was on the other side. If he told me he loved me, I had to say it back, or things wouldn't be pretty. "How long has this been going on?" Hoseok asked. "A couple months after we got together... It started out small, but then it spiraled. Before I knew it, I was trapped in a loveless relationship, too scared to run." I shivered as I sunk into Hoseok's arms even more.

"I'm so sorry, I should've been there," Hoseok whispered.

"It's okay Hobi, just... hold me."

"Why didn't you call me? You shouldn't have walked all the way over here."

"I knew you were practicing."

"Y/n," He breathed, "I'd drop anything for you."

"I know how important your job is to you Hobi..."

"You're more important."

Silence engulfed us again, Hoseok gently rocking me back and forth. Loving Hoseok was scary, but I wouldn't hold myself back anymore. I wouldn't dance around the issue. I couldn't deny what my heart wanted and what it wanted all along. Last time I did, Hajoon reduced me to a scrap of myself.

Hajoon would hug me, but they weren’t like Hoseok’s. Hajoon would hold me, but it wasn’t like Hoseok. Hajoon said he loved me, but he wasn’t Hoseok. He was never Hoseok. He could never be Hoseok.

"I didn't love him." I sniffled. "I never did. He wasn't the person I wanted, Hobi."

"Who did you want...?" Hoseok hesitated.

"I wanted my hope..." I choked out, tears threatening to fall again.

Hoseok held me tighter. A stray tear fell on the top of my head, telling me he needed to hear that. That single tear told me so much. He regretted not being there for me through this. He felt like it was his fault. If only he knew, things would be different. If only he told me he loved me, this would've never happened.

"Why didn't you come to me sooner?" Hoseok croaked out, sniffling.

"I was just scared of what he would to do me..." I winced.

"Did he hurt you?" Hoseok asked.

I stayed silent. He pulled away to look me in the eye, his own tears glistening under the light.

"Sunshine. Did he hurt you?" He pressed.

I couldn't resist him whenever he called me that, so I just silently nodded.

"Where?"

I showed him my wrist. The purple splotches wrapping around it reminding me of the invisible handcuffs Hajoon had me in for so long. "He's disgusting..." He scoffed, gently taking my wrist in his hands, examining the deep bruises. I unconsciously flinched, earning a look of sadness from Hoseok, more tears falling from his face. "Was this the first time?" I shook my head, causing Hoseok to take a deep breath. "Tomorrow, we'll go get your things and bring them here. I'll deal with him." I looked up at the man in front of me. Instead of his somber look, his face showed a mad one. Hoseok was always scary when mad. The aura that radiated off of him was a threatening one. "I don't want to go back there, Hobi..." I mumbled. Hoseok slowly put a hand on my cheek and stroked my cheekbone with his thumb. His moves were slow and gentle, not wanting to scare me. "Don't worry, he won't be there when we go."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He'll be rotting in a cell."

"...Jail?"

"He committed a crime, Y/n," He stated.

"...Thank you Hobi. I missed you..."

"I missed you too, sunshine. I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you..."

"I love you..." I squeezed him tighter.

"I love you too, sunshine."

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