sojournerdiraq

[sojournerdiraq]

guys. please

[sojournerdiraq]

"Would anyone want to read --" Listen, imma stop you right there. Yes. YES, someone would want to read that. You write that weird little fucked up story. Or that domestic little slice of life story. That drabble or that 300k monster.

I promise someone wants to read it.

[sojournerdiraq]

I'm gonna try something new (Call for beta readers)

Cold Circuit (my cyberpunk novel) is shaping up to be...lengthy.

(The official Word manuscript, the one I intend to send to publishers once...if...this novel is complete, is already 23k words and 130 pages. The best part: I'm not even 25 percent through Part One. I have...a lot of ideas here)

So I'm gonna forgo the traditional process of Write ->beta call and instead call for betas while I'm writing.

I already have ten chapters (unedited, mind you) ready to go. I'm thinking of sharing a chapter every week for any potential beta readers to read and comment while I work on writing the rest of the story.

But enough of that, I should probably answer your biggest question with an elevator pitch:

"In times of war, the laws fall silent" _Marcus Tulius Cicero

I always lie.

Six months ago, an anmesiac woman named Sibyl arrived at the door of La Mano de Plata Cafe, bloodied, missing an arm, and wearing only a trenchcoat.

Now, six months later, Sibyl embarks on a quest to recover and decode her own memories, venturing to the very ends of the City-State of Vespucci to uncover the truth. What was Operation Pygmalion, and who is the White-Eyed Woman? Where did she acquire her cybernetic enhancements, and why is she so desperately sought after?

Tags, because y'know, why not?

@foyle-writes-things @thatqueerweirdo

Let me know if you wish to be added or removed, or if you're interested in beta reading!

[sojournerdiraq]

You are presented with two choices: evolve or repeat

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THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING TO GET YOUR MEDS BEFORE THE PHARMACIES CLOSE

they are going to be CLOSED OVER THE HOLIDAYS and so will the DOCTORS WHO SIGN YOUR PRESCRIPTIONS.

if you don't have enough meds to last the next THREE WEEKS, put in for your repeats and refills tomorrow! that's Wednesday! do it! don't go to hospital at New Year because you ran out of stuff!

[sojournerdiraq]

Hello yes I have a new OC.

She's a Russian trans woman who was assassinated by the government. Her father, an ex-KGB agent, fled the country with her childhood teddy bear and worked as a bodyguard in the city-state of Vespucci (formerly the United States of America) and used DNA traced from her teddy bear to recreate her memories and upload her digital consciousness into a warehouse (at the request of his friend and prosthetician Wrusty)

Her name's Yelena Vasiliev and she's basically a Russian version of Futura from the 1927 movie Metropolis.

She's both transgender and trans humanist because cyberpunk needs more transfemmes who discard their mortal vessel

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local woman who claimed she will "cross that bridge when she comes to it" arrives at said bridge

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looking for writeblr mutuals

hi i sort of became inactive on here for a second because of life and college and......... life.... but im really wanting to get into the writing community again!! i have my WIP intro pinned to the top of my page (pls check it out its my pride and joy) and i'll follow back any writeblrs that follow me:)) i'd love to participate in tag games and my DMs are always open!! lets be mutuals!

[sojournerdiraq]

looking for writeblr mutuals

hi i sort of became inactive on here for a second because of life and college and......... life.... but im really wanting to get into the writing community again!! i have my WIP intro pinned to the top of my page (pls check it out its my pride and joy) and i'll follow back any writeblrs that follow me:)) i'd love to participate in tag games and my DMs are always open!! lets be mutuals!

[sojournerdiraq]

Character Intro: Wrusty Caldwell

The floor under me is cold, damp, cracked stone, with streams of water flowing through the crevices. The scent of burning lavender overwhelms my nostrils

A leather-gloved hand helps me get to my feet. A leather gloved hand that belongs to a tall, muscled figure.

“Wrusty,” I croak, “good t’see ya.”

“Save your breath, Sibyl. You're suffering from one hell of a data overload. What the fuck did you do?”

A hand grabs my wrist, and I'm ushered to my feet.

“Killed a man. Unknowing vector for some ultra-fucked-up experimental program.”

“You’re quite lucid, all things considered. Can you walk by yourself?”

 I turn my gaze to Wrusty’s shoulder. She’s a full head taller than me, her void-black hair styled in her signature messy bun. A woman of the utmost precision, and somehow, she can’t tie a simple bun.

“I… always lie.”

“Here, Sibyl, you can lean on me,” Wrusty answers, propping my arm over her shoulder, “you could tell me everything once I’ve fixed you up.”

My vision blurs, and I feel myself being half-lead, half-dragged to our destination. 

“How the hell did you…find me?” I ask her, and this arouses a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. She turns to face me fully, and I manage to see my sorry state reflected in her black scleras.

“My job is to monitor your vitals, and for the amount of money you gave me, I can only offer the best of my services.”

There would’ve been a time, a few months prior, where I’d’ve been a bit more curious as to what exactly she meant with those words. It didn’t take long for my curiosity to dry up as quickly as it flourished.

“Open the door, Alexei! Our favorite customer’s back!”

“Alive?” a muffled Russian accent asks.

“Yes, alive. I’d be devastated if Miss Moneybags here ever decided to kick the bucket.”

“Nice to know you care for my well being, Wrusty.”

“Of course. Like I said, you’re our favorite customer.” Wrusty defends, glancing upwards.

“Yelena, what the hell’s your dad doing in there?”

The streetlights on the left side flicker, followed by the rapid opening-and-closing of the trash can lid next to me.

“Uh-huh, I’ll tell ‘er.”

Wrusty opens the door and we take a few steps inside.

“Yelena wants to know if you’re aware of the history behind ego diving.” Wrusty continues.

“Can’t…can’t say I am.” I respond. My vision begins to clear, and I allow myself a seat.

“It was pioneered for Lockhart by Eleanor’s ex, Anastasia, originally intended to treat people with recurring or debilitating mental health issues. Alexei, here, was quite familiar with her. He was the bodyguard to some famous rockstar.”

“That famous rockstar, as you call her,” Alexei interjects, “sullied your father’s suit with her vomit.”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember. Anyways, Sibyl, whatever the hell you did back there completely fried your systems. We’re talkin’ like, total obliteration, and we might have to…” Wrusty pauses, leaning closer to my arm. She taps the elbow three times, and then my wrist, and then the back of my hand, all of which in quick succession.

���Fuck. Might have to send this one back to Tavares.”

I clench my jaw and swallow my words. The fuck did Galatea put in my systems? No, before that. The white-eyed woman.

“Tea time,” Wrusty instructs.

My gaze focuses on the pinky finger of my cyber, and I think about the act of lifting my pinky finger, but my arm doesn’t respond, save for a slight twitch of the thumb.

“Mmm, so the arm is still connected to your nerves, it’s just…”

Without looking back, Wrusty grabs a screwdriver from a nearby table and unscrews the brachialis plate, where my cyber’s CPU is snugly tucked away.

“Whatever did this snapped clean through the defenses we’ve installed.” Wrusty muses. “Either dealin’ with a world-class red or a top-o’-the-line virus.”

“Neither of those are reassuring, Wrusty.”

“It’s a matter of perspective, really. You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to. You say it isn’t reassuring, I say that it’s quite the opposite.”

This is unusually optimistic, even for her.

“Please, Wrusty, enlighten me.”

“It would be my pleasure. Can you walk on your own?”

“I’ll manage.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she answers, running her hands over my cyber’s CPU, “you could not have chosen a better time to show up.”

“Is that so?”

She clicks her tongue in agreement, adding “like fire and ice.”

A distinctly Vespuccian turn of phrase that almost complements its accent, and I cannot help but offer a weak smile. Legend has it that the Vespuccian accent originated in the deep American South, in regions once known as Maryland and Texas. Wrusty herself once stated that her family hailed from an American state known as Kentucky, but with her, it’s hard to tell whether she’s telling the truth or making a fool out of her audience.

“Remember how I said your cyber’s shot? Well, it’s much better…I mean, worse…that I’d initially thought. One the wires ‘round your central processing unit has melted into its casing, and if you’d tried to get any more use out of it, well…d’you know how much authentic human meat goes for on the black market? A little charred, maybe. Sinewy and medium rare are one and the same in the Vespuccian underworld.”

“Where does the good news come in?” I mutter dryly.

“The other model just came in today. Tavares gave me free rein on its programming, and I’d like to record some human-computer interactions in testing this program.”

“Wait but Cell just updated this cyber with—”

“Don’t sweat it, I’ll keep those programs intact.”

“Can you extract it from—”

“Yelena already did that,” and then, to the ceiling fan above her, “thanks, sweetie!”

The lights flicker on and off in appreciation.

“When’s the last time you ate something?”

I pause for a moment, processing Wrusty’s question. Genuine concern? From Wrusty Caldwell? Shit, maybe that biochip fucked with more than my systems.

“For fuck’s sake stop gawking at me like that, you look like I asked you for nuclear codes.”

“The codes are something I’d expect you to ask about.”

“Alright, jackass, just answer the question.”

I pause, struggling to recall. There was the Synthetik bacon from Mama Zoraya’s, but I barely touched that due to Kaspar’s visit and subsequent game, and…

I reach into my pocket once more, sighing in relief upon feeling the tarot card still in there, through some miracle.

Which reminds me…

“Wrusty, you’ve been ‘round the block, right?” 

 “Could say so. Somethin’ botherin’ you?”

“A few things, actually.”

Wrusty stands upright, her broad shoulders caked in grease and dust.

“Follow me, I’ll listen on the way to the shop.” By now, her supposedly southern accent has swung in full force, “In return, I’d like you to review my programs.”

Haven't posted an excerpt of Cold Circuit in a while, surprisingly. Anyways, meet Wrusty Caldwell. She's...something, I'll give you that.

Silverhands: @foyle-writes-things @thatqueerweirdo

Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!

[sojournerdiraq]

I wanna get in more spoken Spanish practice but I only know two (2) people who speak fluent Spanish and I am going feral because while they are amazing and a major help, where are more opportunities to use what I've learned?

Gritando a la oscura

[sojournerdiraq]

hey if you’re in the U.S. and use food stamps or know somebody who does i found this online cookbook that has recipes for eating well on approximately $4/day :o) 

[sojournerdiraq]

I went to the forest that makes you have multiple pronouns and accidentally touched some poison ivy there

[sojournerdiraq]

Word of the Day: #5

Celerity

noun

swiftness of movement

[sojournerdiraq]

no one is there for you like the music you listened to at your lowest point in high school

[sojournerdiraq]

does anyone know if we have the profound soul touching loneliness tomorrow