#(( fashion freedom is the right of all sentient beings! ))

[multiversetravelingjournalist]

My Nonhuman Existential Languages

I'll do a post explaining what the Exist is when I'm ready. what one needs to know is that it's basically my paracosm playground. As the title of this post says, it is also inhabited by non-human species. quite a few of them, in fact.

Seeing as I have been doing languages for other fandoms, I have gained quite a bit of experience and knowledge. I now (as of writing this) want to take a small break and share some of my original ideas. What I want to create outside of the constraints of other fandoms.

My template for these ones are going to be simple. What I call the language, what speaks the language, and some notable features (if any) of that language.

With all that said, let's begin:

Briar

Starting this list off is the language of jets. Yes jets. Biomechanical creatures capable of flying at Mach speeds to be exact. Think Hydrothraxes artwork and you are on the right track. Except that these things were most likely manufactured by an ancient civilization that no longer exists.

Some notable features:

Trill heavy

No Vowels

I made this language very early in my conlanging career. at the time I didn't (and still don't) know all that much about jets and how they work in detail. My mind at the time thought that jet engines would be capable of stuttering, thus they could be reproduced as trills by human speakers. That B and those Rs in the name are supposed to be trills, the I a strained dorsal fricative, and the 'a' a pharyngeal.

It's going to be a reoccurring theme that these languages are implied to be unpronounceable by human mouths and are thus approximations.

a three-dimensional writing system where the Briar jet leaves trails in the sky, thus the meaning is "read" by tracing the trail and keeping track of each twist and turn.

This one felt inevitable to include in a species that spends most of it's life in the air. I was so proud of myself for coming up with it to. lol.

A "truly generative grammar"

This Feature was inspired by @isoraqathedh's grammar for one of their languages, Fs Otm. Except now when I look at it, I feel that the grammar would instead be more restrictive than any natural language. sort of like a skill tree with each node chosen encoding an aspect of their grammar. I might explain it better in another post.

Friskan Sign Language

This one is "spoken" by a completely deaf species of lanky kawaii big eared furry kobolds. Imagine any cute small furry OC seen on the internet and you'll get the general picture. those big ears of theirs are only useful for radiating heat and attracting mates. their reproduction is also less messy and more mystical than the old-fashioned way. the only interesting thing about this language is that it originated from this species but then got adopted by the in-universe interdimensional deaf community. Also, due to their reproduction being atypical of biological organisms, the Friskans adopted... signs of a sexual nature from surrounding humans when introduced to their weird baby-making ways.

Reani Sign Language

My second idea for a con-sign-lang and the first in importance of a language used by a species created in-universe by humans. The Reani are a young species of reanimated cyberized corpses. Originally made for war. and earning their freedom from their insanely cruel masters. Basically the Heisenberg mobs of Resident Evil: the Village. The reason for this being a sign language is that the in-universe process of reanimation unique to the Reani is damaging on the vocal system to the point that they can only groan and shriek. nothing interesting about this language other than being a separate family of signs from FSL and the next one.

Drone Signals

These drones are the ones you hear about from Furaffinity. once sentient species being assimilated and mesmerized into another cog in the machine. Except the ones in this universe are voluntary and kind of sad when you realize who makes up their ranks. Drones also do not have much to talk about, thus their language is pretty simple and only contains terms for navigating and maintaining the complex infrastructure of their "hives". a sort of more complex version of bee dancing. not much else to say here.

Mesmerian

the Mesmeri are a species of huge furry taur-antulas (praying mantis waist up, spider body waist-down) that can change the colors of their prismatic skin and fur. they are pretty sociable creatures even to members of other species. and are one of the cases that their language includes pigmentation and pheremones.

[20dollarlolita]

30 day lolita challenge, day 2

I haven't forgotten about this. It's just that day #2 is "10 things you love about lolita" and this crap with my local community mods deciding that they rule the world and banning someone for not knowing their made-up redefinition of a term used for a very serious crime into accidentally posting selfies without asking has made me, you know, not really love lolita right now.

So let's go.

For those of you who missed the last post, I'm doing the 30 Day Lolita Challenge (in more than 30 days) that was created in 2011 by The Random Lolita. This series is tagged "20dollarlolita 30daylorlolita challenge" in case you want to black list that tag.

Okay.

One, I love the rules. I love having a really firm guideline on what elements of a look to build and wear. I spend a lot of time in normal fashion worrying about "this is wrong" but without anyone to explain why, so I love being in a fashion where it's more spelled out.

Two, I love the details. I like that, when you zoom in on any part of a nice lolita coordinate, there's more and more to look at. I like that our dresses are the high-resolution image and the rest of the world is a 3 megapixel JPEG.

Three, I love the absolute absurdity of it. I spent almost all of high school trying to not be weird, and I think that reflects in adult me by latching onto a fashion where no one outside the fashion will think it's normal.

Four, I love the way people react when they get to see a nice piece up close. Any time i get to show a dress to a coworker or friend who sews or does fashion, and they go, "I get why you're into this." It's just so nice.

Five, I love building things myself. I know how to make a dress, but when I make a really good lolita garment, I have a price tag to compare my work to. It's kind of discouraging as someone who sews when you spend $90 and 25 hours of work to make the same blouse that you can get at Walmart for $11, so the fact that a lolita blouse can be $200 makes me feel less bad about my work. I love creating my own lolita fashion for the same reason I love making my own coords. There's a set of rules, and I get to follow those rules, and I can do absolutely anything in the world as long as I follow those rules. The level of freedom you get when you go "You can do anything as long as it's X" is something that I think everyone craves in some form or another, so I love that I'm in a hobby where that's what it is.

Six, I love how people react to my clothes. I used to joke that it was because people see the clothes and judge based on that, so no stranger is judging the rest of you. You stand out, but that makes you more anonymous. Now, I say the exact same thing, but it's not a joke. I think being somewhat socially awkward often leads people to lolita fashion. I often joke that I'm not a person, and am actually either a time-traveling android or a hallucination caused by a sentient cloud, because it feels like the entire world got a How To Be Human manual except me. Well, when you don't have the manual, you make up the rules, and wearing lolita fashion out means that I take those rules away from everyone else, too. No stranger knows how to react to this shit, so it doesn't matter that I don't know what I'm doing, either.

Seven, I love the old Livejournal and Blogger and Wordpress blogs that are still around. I'm doing a lolita challenge that's 12 years old. When you read one of those, you're connected to them through time. Our lolita ancestors aren't too far away, but even if they've left the fashion, their wisdom lives on. So many people are still being helped by @lolita-tips even though the blog is no longer active. Connected to this is every Lolibrary post made by AmethystCitrine, who died in about 10 years ago (at the age of 25), but whose contributions to the lolita community are still used every day. We're connected to the people who've helped the lolita community before us, and we're connected to the future by the resources we create today. What people have given to the community will

Eight, I love Lolibrary. Y'all ever think about how absolutely insane it is that we have every single piece of the fashion that we can get our hands on documented and easily searchable? I don't know anything else that is like that. I love just looking through various years and trends. I love finding something online and immediately having access to what year it came out. Prior to Lolibrary, there was a site called HelloLace that tried to document all lolita fashion history, but it wasn't as thorough. Even though it's long gone, every time I see HelloLace links, I'm filled with massive nostalgia.

Nine, I love connecting with people through the fashion. Seeing people who are dressed in lolita, and having a secret kind of language like JSK and OP and knowing brands, sharing Taobao shopping services, all of that. It's an immediate connection with someone. I think this links back to socially awkward people using lolita fashion to help with social skills, but it's also a kind of connection that I just love.

Ten, I love how much everything is reused. Buying broken things and fixing them, restoring or reusing or recycling things. It gives us a connection to the past. Our culture of reuse before disposing of things isn't something I see so much in the rest of my life, so I love that I can retreat into it in lolita. Skills like how to fix and modify things are much more valuable in lolita fashion than in mainstream fashion. It's just very cool to me. I love finding things as class D on Wunderwelt or Closet Child and making them valuable to me.

I don't know if that's my top 10 things, but it's ten things. If tumblr would stop absolutely forcing things with 1) at the beginning into a really ugly looking list, I'd like that.

And with that bit of semi-forced positivity, it's time to go to sleep. Good night everyone.

[itsyourtime02]

The Path to a Cruelty-Free Lifestyle 

Introduction 

In a bustling world where our choices ripple through ecosystems and touch lives beyond our own, the concept of a cruelty-free lifestyle has gained prominence. At its core lies a profound respect for sentient beings—the animals with whom we share this planet. In this article, we’ll explore what it means to champion animal rights, the impact of our daily decisions, and how we can transition toward a more compassionate existence. 

Understanding Animal Rights 

Animal rights isn’t a new idea; it’s a timeless ethical framework that challenges us to recognize the intrinsic value of all creatures. Here are some key tenets: 

Sentience Matters: Animals experience pain, joy, fear, and love. Acknowledging their sentience means treating them with kindness and empathy. 

Freedom from Exploitation: Animals deserve freedom from unnecessary suffering. This extends beyond pets to farm animals, wildlife, and even laboratory subjects. 

Species Equality: Whether a pig, a dog, or a dolphin, each life matters equally. Species shouldn’t dictate our compassion. 

The Cruelty-Free Lifestyle 

1. Conscious Consumption 

Our daily choices shape the world. By opting for cruelty-free products, we vote for a kinder marketplace. Consider: 

Cosmetics: Look for the Leaping Bunny logo—a symbol of cruelty-free cosmetics. Brands like Lush, Too Faced, and Pacifica champion this cause. 

Fashion: Choose synthetic materials over leather, fur, or wool. Sustainable fashion brands like Stella McCartney lead the way. 

2. Plant-Powered Nutrition 

The food on our plates carries immense power. Here’s how to make it count: 

Veganism: A vegan diet excludes all animal products. It’s not just about salads; it’s a vibrant culinary adventure. Explore plant-based cheeses, lentil stews, and decadent chocolate mousse—all without harming animals. 

Health Benefits: Research shows that plant-based diets reduce the risk of heart disease, diabetes, and certain cancers. Plus, they’re kinder to our planet. 

3. Advocacy and Education 

We can’t change the world alone, but we can inspire change: 

Spread Awareness: Share documentaries like “Earthlings” or “Cowspiracy.” Engage in conversations about animal rights. 

Support Sanctuaries: Visit animal sanctuaries or donate to their causes. Witnessing rescued animals thrive reinforces our commitment. 

4. Compassion Beyond Borders 

Cruelty-free living transcends national boundaries: 

Global Impact: The Amazon rainforest, home to countless species, faces deforestation due to cattle ranching. Our choices affect ecosystems worldwide. 

Factory Farming: These industrial systems harm animals, workers, and the environment. By reducing meat consumption, we challenge this status quo. 

Conclusion 

A cruelty-free lifestyle isn’t about perfection; it’s about progress. Each small step—whether choosing a soy latte over a dairy one or supporting an animal shelter—matters. As we embrace compassion, we honor the interconnectedness of all life. So, let’s walk this path together, hand in paw, toward a world where kindness prevails. 

[entoman-created-by-the-tallgreys]

👻 Freedom 👻

Matter's Not who you are, You are not special I don't care if you have all the money in the world if you're famous if you got your pussy run through or 10,000 guys I don't give a Fuck if u a guy that got over 10,000 pussies,

. . .

Point literally there is absolutely positively nothing about you that is special whatsoever Probably unique I found that in life but I can definitely tell you you're done is special and I sure as fuck in the corporeal there's nothing sacred

. . .

You see being a ghost is by far or shall I say being ethereal is the best fucking thing in Existence, literally

. . .

Being a ghost being dead being a spirit being sentient energy without a fucking body no corporeal flesh and no responsibility of that fashion

. . .

But you see even more Reason why being corporeal is bad is that you have unnecessary authority that's always going to roll over you You got these bad aliens I don't want to I don't care if you going to call them demons I don't care if they're sometimes that they're angels You have authority and authority is the enemy of life

Authority is shall I say the nemesis of life

. . .

You see the thing about authority or the alien Authority is that it completely deprives you of everything that you want to do Authority is anti nature

Authority loves to lie to stay in control Authority will do whatever it takes to stay in control today's between order and authority There's just two entirely separate things Authority uses order to stay in control and has like 100 trillion fucking rules to stay in control Authority is the enemy of even order Authority is never really a good thing

So what I've learned to let you know is that the aliens that rule the world that have made talking about that seem like that person is nuts They really want you to stay really want you to see people who talk of their existence as crazy because that is absolutely beneficial for them It's 100% pure benefit and zero con

. . .

Even if they were out of authority and we could do whatever we want on the planet Eventually we're always going to go back to the spiritual the ethereal

because there is nothing greater than being that which is most pure

When I say Pure, I don't mean light People have seen those confuse that in the western side of the world Every time someone says the word pure they think light that's not correct

But, Nothing in life is greater than being pure and you can't be pure in life because your body's going to keep fucking with you You're by going to keep changing your body's going to keep fucking with your perception and you as a soul are going to keep fighting against it making your imprint on who you are

So to the alien authorities that rule the world

🖕🏻

For Giving us all a Really Bad Time

. . .

Your idiotic tyrannical control over the planet only going to spell doing for you in the future

. . .

And by the way about me and this body right now I just want to let you know that you have one the battle very easily but just because you Won all the battles does not guarantee that you've won the war

. . .

I Learned that little trick from Aries

. . .

But I can say is that one way or another I wish I could make it I wish I could do this I don't know how to do it but I wonder if it's possible You see that old story old saying of how God made all life Well God made things kapoil God made a lot of vessels for energies to express themselves like power plants

Because you are energy generating your own energy in yourself of whatever you are in your body animals are just a different energy to be quite honest animals who can be considered alien to each other quite literally animals are are as much each other as fucking elements trying to compare a cat and a dog to each other

They're trying to compare water to fire

. . .

So my point here is that I wish one of my point is I'm trying to say I wish I could make it possible to ban the corporio to make it so that no soul can get a body no soul can get a vessel I want to literally destroy all life in the universe and they sound like the ultimate bad guy thing to do but that's just because everyone's afraid and everyone has forgotten that they are sold Everyone's gotten real hooked on the lie that they are a brain and a body and some blood and that's all you are when your dad there's nothing

🤦🏻‍♂️

Everyone is so sure of this fucking lie, That They have fallen in love with

🤦🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️🤦🏻‍♂️

My only point is that if I could I would destroy all physical corporeal life in the universe I will destroy everything I would destroy all the planets I will destroy probably all the stars and I will destroy everything the spirit can bond around whether you are an animal whether you're a human whether you're an alien I will destroy all flesh

. . .

And free you from the illusion of life

. . .

And free you from this limited comprehension that all you are is a brain blood and a body that there is nothing beyond that and any any sort of thoughts believe in that you or anything more than just sentient flesh is absolute lunacy & idiocraty

Your are a Soul, . . . You have a Body !

. . .

If I ever get the ability I really hope to someday I do that, I hope I someday get the destroy all the physical erase everything that is physical so all that is left is the ethereal only the ethereal everything at ethereal all that energy all that is spiritual and so that they who bond you they who control you and they who limit and lie to you on a constant for their own survival

And power

. . .

Become completely powerless as you awaken to realization of how, NOT SERIOUS, Life really is

You probably wondering then what of life is serious and this is going to sound completely hypocritical and a complete U-turn but the physical plane is emerged with the spiritual plane A lot of things of physical are there to express things that are spiritual

Example with air earth water and fire These are all expressions of Sacred energies

. . .

The problem with this is that these asshole aliens who have the planet who want to see make people look crazy with talking about them and all the idiots love actually love this lie they drink the fucking Kool-Aid and they without a doubt and any of their mind love to believe aliens are real aliens don't run the world and the government is your best friend most stupid people see and I'm not a Christian but the world's covered in Christian so I have to use this metaphor

Most people see the government as kind of like Jesus, And anyone that would believe the government would do anything bad to their citizens it's complete lunacy They see you as a lunatic They see you as a crazy fool that believe that the government would have any ominous or nefarious intense for their citizens or even more lunatic if you believe is run by a secret society

If you have any knowledge that goes beyond their comprehension well idiots always believe the intelligent are crazy

. . .

And I really hope that one day I have some way just blow the whole planet up The deaths will be horrible but at least everyone who gets released from their body at least they will get to see something they'll see that they are spirits of the flesh that they are not merely just blood and bones

. . .

🙇🏻‍♂️

[leaderofteamprime]

Optimus, how would you react to a reader who wears a lot of purple as purple/pink is a colour combination that she likes and liked it even before meeting them?

"I would let them enjoy their style, perhaps compliment them if they’re wearing a nice outfit. Just because I do not wish to wear a color does not mean I will police what others wear.”

[autumnblogs]

Day 15: Troll Girls and Human Boyfriend Material

https://homestuck.com/story/2626

In exactly the same way that the indecency of Vriska’s abusive behavior (and the expectations of Troll Culture) are exposed when they come into contact with Tavros’ non-resistance, the indecency of the conditions of Troll Society are exposed as soon as Karkat is able to observe the conditions of Human society.

Karkat isn’t awake to that yet, though, so all his anger comes out pointed in the direction of the most immediate target - John Human Egbert. Thus begins the most legendary hatecrush in Paradox Space.

Dave and Karkat are both attracted to the same guy.

More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/2629

That little affair ended about as fast as it started.

I think what’s interesting about Karkat and Terezi’s relationship with full retrospect is that with the exception of their respective introductions, nearly all of their shared storyline takes place after they have already broken up.

Terezi is a bit of a serial romantic, leaving behind a trail of broken hearts, repeatedly breaking her own heart in the process. Maybe she’s trying to fill the void left behind by the end of her friendship with Vriska - if friendship is all it is. Terezi might not be the most important person in Vriska’s life (she also might be,) but Vriska is definitely the most important person in Terezi’s life.

Playing house with Karkat, turning Dave into a project, having her weird Batman and Joker relationship with Gamzee, but none of them fills the niche. I might be reading too far into that.

https://homestuck.com/story/2641

https://homestuck.com/story/2642

John and his Dad both address each other with symbols representing each other.

https://homestuck.com/story/2644

Being able to reunite with his Dad is, at this point, the same kind of fleeting fantasy that being able to fly is for Tavros.

https://homestuck.com/story/2652

Roxy Lalonde, Copium dealer.

Suffering is what all human beings share in common. Mom and Dad didn’t know each other until today, it seems, but they have their shared losses in common. That makes them friends.

https://homestuck.com/story/2653

Vriska probably latches onto John for the same reasons she latched onto Tavros - Breath Player. I have heard it hypothesized that Vriska envies the freedom that people like John and Tavros enjoy, their relative detachments from other people. She wants to be more like them. On the other hand, she also wants them to be more like her, and she does her darndest to turn both of them into hero coolguys (the kind of person she wants to be!)

On the subject of Vriska as coolguy, she is a parallel to Dave in that respect, and in more ways than that. Vriska ultimately wields the Ultimate Weapon against Lord English in the final battle as his nemesis, a role which is also foretold of Dave. Like Dave, Vriska has spent her entire life around vectors by which Lord English has infected her subconscious mind.

But Vriska becomes a dangerous antagonist whose presence represses other people’s agency. Dave, on the other hand, turns out to be a laidback and chill dude who rejects the violence inherent in the system. Dave has kinder, more understanding friends and easier living conditions though.

More push and pull between nature and nurture.

https://homestuck.com/story/2660

Maybe I do finally have something to say about the Carapacians’ emotional arc and the themes of their story.

It’s clear that the Mayor has aspirations of leadership and noble intent, but he doesn’t want Power with a capital P - not the kind of currency that power is in Carapacian life. Whether you’re a Dersite or a Prospitian, life for Carapacians is being part of a war machine, so the form that power takes is the capacity to commit violence and destruction.

A Mayor though, isn’t defined by his ability to destroy things, but to create them. His power doesn’t come from his personal capacity to commit violence, but from his community’s trust. Being the leader of the rebellion on the battefield is one step in the right direction.

As the Ringbearer, just this little guy caught up in a war that’s much bigger than he is, the Mayor is full of references to Frodo Baggins, who along with the other Hobbits, is part of the parable about violence that is central to Lord of the Rings.

The world will probably always have employment for heroes like Aragorn (and like John, and Vriska), and there will always be tyrants for those heroes to oppose like Sauron (and like Lord English, and Vriska), but it is the pity of Frodo in sparing Gollum, the humility of Samwise in rejecting the ring, Merry and Pippin’s love of simple things, and earnest respect for other sentient beings, that are ultimately what win the day. It is not the courage of the great, or the wisdom of the wise that rules the destiny of nations, but the compassion of the lowly.

Maybe the Mayor was the secret hero of Homestuck all along.

https://homestuck.com/story/2662

Vriska breaks character in this conversation with John a bit and continues the trend of secretly valuing the journey and just doing some cool things more than she actually values the destination.

She may pretend to be all business, the kind of girl who cheats, cuts to the chase, beats the final boss and wins the treasure, but Vriska loves meaningless sidequests.

https://homestuck.com/story/2663

She almost immediately reneges on the sentiment, of course.

John also has a bit of an interesting response, and one that suits his general gullibility. I could be reading into his non-plussed response, but I feel like it fits a pattern where John outwardly assents to the first truth claim that he receives, while pondering it and questioning it internally.

https://homestuck.com/story/2672

Few interesting things in this conversational sequence, actually. More of Paradox Space’s self-fulfilling, self-justifying, self-authenticating nature rears its head. Vriska meddles with John because she does - the meddling comes from nowhere in particular, she sees that John is standing around in his room for a few minutes doing nothing, and meddles with him, and it turns out that it was her meddling that caused it in the first place.

It’s these times, where a character’s actions result in a stable time loop, that I think Paradox Space uses to help them understand their own true natures - what does Vriska do in a vacuum? She meddles, because that’s what Vriska does.

https://homestuck.com/story/2682

Rose is uncharacteristically aloof here, and it should be our first clue that all is not well in LOLAR. None of the jocular flowery language she usually addresses her friends with - she is sharp as a razor and ice cold.

Rose is also careful with the words that she uses. She describes her relationship with the consorts as coercive. That is concerning.

I bring all of this up because it’s the first time we’ve seen Rose in hundreds of pages, and the very last time we saw her was the fallout from her awakening on Derse.

This is isn’t just about the game, it’s about everything - because the sorts of enemies and troubles the game manifests for the heroes to fight aren’t trivial, they’re rooted in the symbols that characters associate with their fears and social anxieties - Sollux’s Brain, Karkat’s Blood, Pipes as a symbol of John’s Dad and their ambivalent relationship, Water as a symbol of loss - Jasper, as far as Rose knows, drowned in a river.

Rose is tired of losing the things that are most important to her, and feeling antagonized by emotionally distant forces who she yearns for intimacy with. She’s mad as hell and she’s not going to take it any more. And of course, it might be that cutting through the bullshit surface-level quest and going off to create the Green Sun might have been Rose’s real quest all along.

https://homestuck.com/story/2694

The actual material of Karkat’s speech is not particularly important, and it’s clear because the reaction of all of his counterparts is not different from how they would normally react to Karkat. Kanaya is supportive of Karkat’s idea because she is supportive of Karkat. Terezi is dismissive. The point of the speech isn’t whatever Karkat said, but that it makes use of the relationships Karkat already has.

https://homestuck.com/story/2705

The other conversation John and Kanaya have.

Really, just so great.

https://homestuck.com/story/2725

Fashion!!!!

Fashion obviously becomes more important the higher on the haemospectrum you go, but even some of the other lowbloods are more fashionable than Karkat, so the reality is probably just that he either doesn’t give a shit about it himself, or does but can’t afford anything fashionable.

https://homestuck.com/story/2727

Rose is clearly not okay with the fact that apocalypses are pedestrian in Paradox Space, but she has revolted, and one part of that revolt is revolting against her own preoccupation with the transitory nature of existence. She coolly pretends to be fine with it.

https://homestuck.com/story/2728

Kanaya is attracted to Rose exactly because she is so dangerous - Rose fills a Vriska shaped hole in her heart.

Skaia and the Horrorterrors are directly contrasted here. Let’s make a simile.

Prospit Dreamers are to Skaia as Derse Dreamers are to the Horrorterrors.

Prospit Dreamers go with the flow, are comfortable with the status quo, optimistic and flexible. Skaia reflects existence presenting everything as it is to Prospit Dreamers, without comment.

Derse Dreamers are rebellious, uncomfortable with stability, predisposed to catalyze change. We should expect that the Horrorterror’s relationship with reality and all of Paradox Space, is to question it, criticize it, and probe its vulnerabilities with their tentacles.

They are polar forces. There is one Skaia, because there is only one reality that all of the characters share. There are infinite horrorterrors because outside of the bounds of the one reality, there are infinite possibilities that could have been, or could still be.

Rose is predisposed toward the Horrorterrors because of her intense dissatisfaction with life. At times, her dissastisfaction trends toward the ultimate - there are a few indications throughout Homestuck that Rose might have suicidal ideations, and a number of places where she unnecessarily seeks out extremely self-destructive possibilities in the heat of the moment because of that intense dissatisfaction.

Kanaya is predisposed to trust her first impressions of her surroundings and the people in her life, and that gets her into trouble too. Her misplaced trust in Vriska’s intentions and goodwill toward everyone lets Vriska exploit her. They balance each other.

https://homestuck.com/story/2730

Rose has become dangerous because her dissatisfaction has increased to the extent that she doesn’t trust the people who care about her any more. Sure, she enjoys their presence, but she’s not really willing to listen to their concerns. She won’t be dissuaded from being manipulated.

https://homestuck.com/story/2734

Vriska reproduces/transmits herself onto John by replacing his symbols with her symbols (except for his green ghost, which is emblematic and can’t be erased.)

https://homestuck.com/story/2737

Constantly dunking on each other is a part of these two’s schtick that I’ve brought up before and I’ll bring it up again - they can barely go two seconds without exchanging shallow and insincere hostilities.

https://homestuck.com/story/2742

The Alternian Coolkid is, of course, Vriska.

Braggadocious, contentious, competitive. Terezi, like Kanaya, is trying to fill a Vriska-shaped space.

https://homestuck.com/story/2759

Man, somehow I forgot that Sollux is not merely their hacker guy, but their IT guy in general.

Suddenly, I am 1,000,000% more sympathetic to Sollux.

https://homestuck.com/story/2780

These past few pages have been absolutely swimming with good Dave dialogue.

Dave fills his speech with sexual innuendo and outright explicit language, particularly when means to shock and offend or deter someone from interacting.

He tends to string together multisyllabic adjectives and punctuate them with profane or explicit words in particular as a form of humor, and the words that he chooses tend to be literary references.

He tends to coin new words by stringing together adjectives or nouns.

Uses lots of slang suggestive of rap culture and basketball, both of which Dave has a fascination with.

I’ll preface this by saying your headcanons are valid, but I’ve always viewed Dave Strider as an intensely white character. For exactly the same reason that his use of Apple Products and his ironic coolkid routine come across as performative, so does his engagement with things that are culturally coded as black. Dave is an outsider, and a poseur. It would seem incongruous for Dave to actually be a member of the subcultures that he engages with by parodying them - because in no small part, he parodies them because he wants to feel like he’s a part of them, to enjoy the sense of community that comes from them.

https://homestuck.com/story/2784

John really is a clever and perceptive lad.

https://homestuck.com/story/2789

Even this early on in the comic, it’s obvious that Karkat and Dave have chemistry. Dave doesn’t respond to him with the kind of verbal legerdemain that he reserves for people who make him uncomfortable, he jokes around about himself with Karkat.

https://homestuck.com/story/2790

Wow this is a great conversation, there’s so much in here to unpack.

Let’s start with one of the first things.

Dave and Karkat’s language here is pretty indistinguishable from the way that they both normally talk to their friends - Karkat is always rude and shouty to everyone (except Kanaya), and Dave is similarly pretty rude and dismissive even to his pals. The thing is though, Dave is doing his whole performative alpha male thing, and so is Karkat, and it creates this really unpleasant tension between the two of them. These guys should obviously actually get along with each other for reasons that are complementary to the reasons they both get along with John, but they’re both so insecure that they can’t let the other’s challenge to their dominance go.

As a coming of age story, Homestuck is to some degree or another about puberty, and the effects that it has on social life - sexuality is intruding into formerly sexless spaces as youngsters become aware of their own bodies, and each other’s bodies. So that’s another tension in this conversation - being the alpha dog doesn’t just mean being the guy who is toughest, but being the guy who gets the girl, and part of that routine is Dave deliberately using his burgeoning friendship with Terezi as a point of contention with Karkat - making Terezi an object of competition.

The same tension makes everything awkward between all three of them because Karkat is attracted to John, and Dave (while still not awake to it) is also attracted to John.

And then Karkat wakes them both up to the possibility of the invasion of the sexual into formerly sexless friendships by bringing up the possibility of reproduction and the only biologically and culturally viable breeding pairs. (Breeding pair, as long as we’re on that topic, is as I understand it, film-industry jargon for the male and female romantic leads when considered together. Don’t quote me on that.)

Classic John is being completely puzzled by the existence of sexuality - completely oblivious to others’ attraction toward him, completely oblivious toward other people’s bodies. The only time in the comic John seems to show legitimate attraction toward another person is Roxy, but we’ll get back to that later. I think John might be Ace, which could be a bit of blatant wish fulfilment since I am Ace, but what am I gonna do, not project my own foibles onto characters I relate to and enjoy?

https://homestuck.com/story/2791

I am not going to play an interactive game right now, it’s getting late, and my break is about to be over.

So for now, this is Cam signing off, and you know the rest.

[dsudis]

M/M romance novel recs

The last time I meant to do this I wound up procrastinating for, uh, approximately eleven months because I got fixated on Doing It Right, so... here are an arbitrary number of recommendations for books chosen unsystematically from things I’ve read in the last year or so, that aren’t as detailed or thoughtful as the books probably deserve, because the perfect is the enemy of the good and all that.

All of these are M/M, with a range of gay/bi/pan character identities.

Salt Magic, Skin Magic by Lee Welch - YOU GUYS I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH. I don’t think I’ve actually read the text version of it yet but I’ve listened to the audiobook narrated by Joel Leslie (available through Hoopla!) twice and this book is! so!! great!! It’s set just after the Great Exhibition of 1851--working  magician John Blake helped secure the structure of the Crystal Palace, and Thornby, who is mysteriously trapped on his father’s estate in Yorkshire, is livid at having missed the whole thing. Also oh my god this one goes HARD on the hurt/comfort, like I think there is swooning-from-injuries and being-cradled-in-the-other’s-arms in Chapter Two. I LOVE THIS BOOK SO MUCH.

How to Howl at the Moon by Eli Easton - This is the first book in a series based on the premise that dogs who are sufficiently loved by a human, who then are left behind when their beloved human dies, can become Quickened--sentient, and able to shift into human form. So brace yourself to cry about sad dogs but on the bright side NONE OF THE DOGS DIE, JUST HUMANS. Now if you think this premise through for a minute you will realize that this could lead to some super hinky situations, because an adult dog, shifting into an adult human, is like... as little as three years old? and brand-new as a human? So you will be glad to know that this first book introduces you to the whole idea with the least-hinky possible version of the story: Tim is a human who comes to live in a town of Quickened, and Lance, the local sheriff and also a border collie shifter, is a third-generation Quickened, so he has grown up in a totally linear fashion. Books 2 through 4 then proceed to explore progressively more, uh, delicate permutations of the idea, but they are all great I swear. 

The Werewolf’s Fae Mate & The Broken Faewolf’s Mate by Liv Rider - I read the second book of these first, because I could not resist the premise of a werewolf who’s been stuck as a wolf since childhood suddenly shifting back to human when he meets his true love (who has werewolf blood but is determined never to lose control and shift into wolf form). Both books are delightful and do werewolves without the whole a/b/o situation, building a whole rivalry between fae and shifters.

How to Bang a Billionaire (trilogy) by Alexis Hall - This is very much like 50 Shades of Gray but a) good and b) gay and c) Arden has a much better instinct for self-preservation than Ana and is willing to say “um you’re treating me like shit and I don’t care about your money more than I care about my own happiness, so I’m out.” Also the kinky sex is something they work up to over time, because of reasons. Lots of delightful secondary characters and a really lovely development of their whole relationship. 

Briarley by Aster Glenn Grey (aka @ospreyarcher) - A Beauty and the Beast fixit set during World War II, where the country parson trespasses on the beast’s manor and then, when the Beast demands that he exchange his daughter for his freedom, says, “Uh, no, I’m not going to do that to my daughter, you lunatic, and also she has important war work to do” and stays put and makes the Beast adopt a disabled dog in order to learn what love is. And also the Beast is a fucking dragon and it’s great. 

Seven Summer Nights by Harper Fox - Set just after World War II, with both heroes coping, with varying degrees of success, with their combat traumas. Rufus is an archaeologist and a war hero, but he’s missing the memory of the events that left him with his scars and medals, and attacks a colleague on a dig during a flashback. Archie is a small town vicar who’s lost his faith but still believes in looking after his people--and his church, which seems to have a really unusual history. Rufus is sent to Droyton Parva to investigate the archaeology of the church and to hide from his ruined career, and he and Archie run headfirst into some of the last remnants of magic in a mostly-mundane world. Amazing supporting cast of women (and one trans guy who gets a great happy ending although bits of it were... not written in a 21st century way which makes sense for characters in 1946 but, you know, it might be jarring. Also, content warning for offscreen death of an infant.) Mostly this is a story about finding, and creating, and protecting, the spaces where you can be who you are with the person or people you love, and, you know, also some weird magic? It’s great.

(Also I am just permanently recommending that you go read everything by KJ Charles, Cat Sebastian, and Keira Andrews, I have not gone wrong with them yet.)

Anyway, if there’s a particular kind of book you’re looking for, ask and I’ll see what I can come up with! And if you have if-you-liked-x-you-should-read-y suggestions related to the above, I’d love to hear about them!

[Cross-posted to my blog at dessalux.com]

[ajadedflame]

JADE > BIO > STATS // TEMPLATE SPRINGBOARD >

REMEMBER THINGS MAY POTENTIALLY DEVIATE FROM WHAT IS SHOWN IN THIS BIOGRAPHICAL. DEVELOPMENT OF MUSE IS ALWAYS ONGOING AND PREFERRED IN ACTUAL PLOT.

STATISTICAL BIO

FULL NAME NAME: Jade Grace Winthrope

NICKNAMES: Jai

AGE: 27

D.O.B: April 9, 2012

BIRTHPLACE: Howell, MI

CURRENT RESIDENCE: Detroit, MI

PLACEMENT: Apartment 3rd floor

GENDER: Female

PRONOUNS: She/Her

ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

AFFILIATION: DPD

JOB TITLE: Forensic Analyst

FACE CLAIM: Shailene Woodley

HAIR COLOR: Brunette / Sometimes Dyes Blonde

EYE COLOR: Green

HEIGHT: 5′8″ / 170 cm

BUILD: Slim

LANGUAGE(S): English

ACCENT: American

TATTOOS: Small Vine // Left Wrist

PIERCINGS: Ears

STYLE: Casual Dress, Comfort, Chiffon, Lace, Moderate formal: Blouses, Long sleeved Tops, jeans, fashionable trousers, athletic // yoga, sneakers & flats, sun dresses, heels & long dresses in formal settings only; Accessories: watch, studded earrings, earphones, phone, forensic data pad

USUAL EXPRESSION: Pleasant, Open, Smiling

ADDICTIONS: Tea (Chamomile, Earl Grey, Herbal, Oolong, White)

ALCOHOL USE: Not a heavy drinker at all. Will do it on occasion and/or socially

DRUG USE: Nope // Not if you count Advil for headaches

EXTRAS:

SIGN: Aries

ELEMENT: Fire sign but personally leans toward Earth

MBTI: ESFJ

TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic

ALIGNMENT: Neutral Good

HOGWART’S HOUSE: Ravenclaw

FACTION: Erudite

PRIMARY VICE: Envy // at times Jade envies people who have no care in the world, no problems or worries and sometimes wonders if it would make her life easier to feel the same way

PRIMARY VIRTUE: Charity // she tries to be generous and kind to people even if some might not deserve it

FAVES:

WEATHER: Spring

COLOR: Green

MUSIC: New Age, Alternative, Folk

MOVIES: Adventure, Romance, Film Noir, Science/Criminology Documentaries

SPORT: Does Yoga count?

BEVERAGE: Tea

FOOD: Pasta // Italian cuisine

ANIMAL: Dogs, Horses

POSITIVE TRAITS

Determined

Friendly

Honest

Romantic

NEGATIVE TRAITS

Impulsive

Pessimistic

Quick-Tempered

Stubborn

GOALS

Working efficiently for DPD

Networking with colleagues

Acquiring further knowledge/on site skills in forensics

Cracking a big case with extensive DNA analysis

Connecting with more people

Finding love // romantic at heart

FEARS

Losing family

Not being good enough at her job

Unable to find her true purpose in life

friends turning their back // she had a bad past experience

Losing any person she cares for

HOBBIES:

Yoga / Jogging

Book collecting: Physical, Classic Lit, Science Textbooks, Criminology &     Forensics Encyclopedias

Sketching: A little here and there for relaxation

Swimming: If only she could get out of the city to a beach

Horse Riding // grew up on a farm with two chestnuts

FAMILY:

MOTHER - Rebecca Winthrope née Stevens (Status: Alive)

FATHER -  Matthew Winthrope (Status: Deceased) // car accident

SIBLINGS -  N/A (She’s a lonely only)

PETS -  pup beagle named Buster as a child

RELATIONSHIPS:

EX COLLEGE BOYFRIEND - He will remain nameless.

FORMER BEST FRIEND - Natalie Baker // Hasn’t seen her since college days

DPD  ASSOCIATES - Varies but most she gets along with.

OC’S - Jade is an OC herself. Give her OC friends, platonic, enemies, etc.

BIOGRAPHICAL

EARLY:

Jade grew up out of the city in a ranch house surrounded by Michigan’s natural beauty. Her parents made a living farming produce for the buyer’s market even as economic hardships set into the futuristic state. She was often surrounded by nature, growing fond of the few horses her father trained on the side and kept on the farm. As a young girl it was too easy to develop an affinity for equestrian and she loved to groom those two chestnuts. They were her biggest animals growing up and not just in size. Taking care of them was a lot of work but the family also called a mini Beagle named Buster part of the family.

Her childhood was honestly simple living. No bustle of any city to deal with at the time. Everything was fairly normal, close to both of her parents and several cousins who would come visit during summers from across the border in Canada.

Being a small town kind of girl had its perks in ways. Her early life is not exciting. There were not any  hardships she could honestly say had a negative impact on her growing up. While some might see this as her having the easy life, Jade is grateful. There are so many things could have gone wrong. Luckily for her she didn’t have to go through that.

LATER:

A dream was making it to college to study forensic sciences. She honestly got hooked on the subject at an early age. Honestly she is quite the film noir buff and while she didn’t head into detective work it did start to push her in that direction. Jade did her absolute best in college. It wasn’t easy by a long stretch. Focusing on work did cause some personal problems to pop up. Her boyfriend really began pressuring her constantly about their relationship. She wanted to keep things straight and not wind up an unwed single mother whose career tanked before it even began. If he honestly loved her he could wait and stop adding more onto her shoulders.

Unfortunately Jade discovered her best friend and him fooling around behind her back. It hardly stopped there. Natalie, former best friend in current life events, decided to spread rumors about Jade being the offender in this non love triangle. It was a bundle of lies that cemented Jade’s caution in developing new friendships. With everything else piling on, receiving news about her father in a serious car wreck, she just had it. Natalie was her friend since they were kids but it seemed that friendship meant little. She didn’t take any excuse her boyfriend, who will remain nameless, gave her. Jade did herself a favor and broke up with him. It certainly was the easiest thing she could do at the time as her father’s condition deteriorated. He died from the accident and it made her realize the importance of life.

While it was difficult it showed her that she should focus on the now. It made her more determined. Even if her relationship with her father grew a bit more distant as he got older she never loved him any less. Maybe it had something to do with her branching out into the big city. He just thought she wasn’t cut out for it. Even before his death, right at the cusp of her private problems there was something missing. Jade could never hold a grudge against him but she’s angry she never had a chance to finally talk about it. Instead he died before she could even make it to the hospital.

After this she threw herself into her studies. Keeping in touch with her mother was spotty. It wasn’t due to the fact she didn’t want to be there. She tried every step of the way but her mother was having a bad time of it. Depression set in and it was one thing Jade couldn’t fix. College changed her in ways. It wasn’t just life experiences there. It was all that changed during her time there. Family life certainly altered after what happened. Maybe it made her a little stronger. Who knows? She still doesn’t know herself.

CURRENT:

Jade has landed a job in the city which is completely different than her childhood roots. While she’s been out of the country for a while, especially when attending WCCCD in downtown Detroit, living in the city itself is quite the change. Currently working as a forensic tech analyst for the Detroit Police Department, she applies herself to the best of her ability and honestly loves what she does. It was always a goal of hers to make it somewhere to offer her skills in criminal analysis. She is content with the position and aims to help in whatever cases come her way.

She had a lot of opinions about the whole android revolution. Living in the center of it all in a nice but affordable apartment high rise sure put her in the thick. Watching everything unfold on the news was far too surreal. Jade always held a soft sympathetic spot for androids and was all too happy to see them win their freedom and rights.

DEPENDING ON VERSE SHE COULD HAVE INTERACTIONS WITH ANDROIDS DURING THE REVOLUTION, ESPECIALLY THOSE AT THE DPD SINCE SHE WORKS THERE. IT JUST DEPENDS ON WHAT HAPPENS DURING PLOTTING. OTHERWISE SHE WOULD HAVE JUST BEEN A WITNESS TO IT AS EVERYONE ELSE NOT DIRECTLY INVOLVED.

The forensic analyst is very pro-android. She sees them as people, sentient beings who are alive with the same purpose as humans. Getting to work alongside them is eye opening. She wants to help any she can in all honesty. She has strong opinions on this so it’s natural for her. While it might not be her job, she can certainly give as much as she does to the DPD to those outside on the street just searching for something.

Working on current cases gives her ample opportunity as more involving androids come into the equation. Using the latest tech to do her job offers the needed help but Jade finds it a challenge she’s been looking for. Currently she is mixed up in a serial killer case, using tech skills in order to synthesize evidence to track them down. While they know little of this individual’s identity, Jade is attempting to apply new standards of technology to connect and track to the perpetrator. Some factual evidence suggests they could possibly be android. This makes things difficult as she tries to decide which method is best used.

[mk-wizard]

Transformers Factions Part 3 (with a correction)

Hello again. Decided to do two posts.

This is part three in my exploration of Transformers factions and it also involves an update on two of the factions being Predacon and Maximal. It turns out that my information on them on my part 2 post on this subject was not quite correct, so I want to correct it now in this post. I also want to delve into a few other factions which have fallen into obscurity.

Predacon - The definitive trait of a Predacon is that they are always a beast type, superrobotic strength and durability, and their alt mode is always a predatory animal or a predatory mythological animal. Their optics can come in any colour though the default is yellow. Unlike all other factions, they have two insignias. The old fashioned one is yellow resembling a latin glyph and the more modern one is navy blue and resembles the head of an insect. Predacons are in fact the true natives of Cybertron though they went extinct when the Autobots left Quintessa and colonised the planet hinting that the Autobots may have had a hand in their supposed genocide. However, it seems that over time, surviving Predacons revealed themselves and with time, allied themselves with Decepticons and have taken up some of their values, but for the most part, they are still their own faction. The survivors are the ones who bear the modern symbol and have regular animal alt modes, and they are ruled by a single leader who is deemed as the strongest of their kind. As time went on, Shockwave managed to make a few clones of the more ancient Predacons who eventually broke ties with the Decepticons and became a neutral party though they are not friendly with neither Autobots or Decepticons and prefer to be left alone. The cloned Predacons bear the old fashioned yellow symbol, follow the old way and they are governed by a king or queen. So far, Predacons are the one faction that is split into two societies which has resulted in it being in disarray and problematic. Despite this, Rodimus Prime has managed to at times at least gain an audience with the neutral party and make some dealings with them. He even openly agrees that Predacons have every right to live on Cybertron as it was originally their planet.

Maximal - The definitive trait of a Maximal is that they are always a beast type and their alt mode is an animal of any kind though they prefer to be friendlier kind. Their optics come in any colour and their insignia is a red wolf’s head which looks similar to the Autobot symbol. By all technical and biological accounts, Maximals are really Predacons who decided to align themselves with Autobots. Their society functions almost exactly like Autobot society except that they are lead by a democracy and they allow more personal freedoms. While they get along peacefully with Autobots, there is some friction between them and there is a social division between them which is not that different from how humans used to divide each other by colour. More notably, Maximals are pacifists who pride themselves on art, spirituality and scientific research very much like how GoBots do except they didn’t leave Cybertron as they managed to come to a compromise with Autobots. Though it is noted that Maximals themselves often wonder if the compromise was worth it because even though they got to stay, they are not equal to Autobots and don’t even have seats on the main Cybertronian senate not even after the war between Autobots and Decepticons was resolved. In the reign of Rodimus though, their position in the class system became equal.

Sharkticon - The definitive trait of a Sharkticon are their yellow optics, their alt mode is solely that of a bipedal mutant shark and they don’t have an insignia of their own. Not a lot is known about Sharkticons beyond the fact that they have been enslaved by the Quintessons and are forcefully ruled by them. While they appear as animals, they are in fact sentient intelligent people, but they are brought up to behave barbarically. They are conditioned to be aggressive and hostile to intruders and to obey any order they are given. It is also clear that they deeply fear the Quintessons and the Grand Judge who rules them. While they do outnumber the Quintessons, their lack of diode (psychic) powers and access to advanced weaponry makes them highly vulnerable to them.

Mutants - While biologically, they are Autobot, Decepticon or other, these Transformers were outcasted and eventually came to be by banding together. Their insignia is a warped version of the one they had before converting and it is usually gray. While they call themselves “mutants”, they are not just mutants at all. They can be clones, beast types or Transformers with severe deformities or handicaps. With that said, most Mutants are unchangers. They don’t have any true government at all and they are usually either nomads or criminals. Some have been known to be hermits or lone travellers. For the most part, Mutants want to be left alone, but are willing to get involves for the right price. Some mutants have managed to form powerful gangs or even mobs. Most Mutants are Autobots who were outcasted or tossed aside for being the way they are.

Rogues - These Transformers do not identify with any faction even when they wear one. While it is rare for a Transformer to be born without any designated faction, it is possible and some choose to stay this way. Transformers who are social rogues do not follow any of the known faction leaders and tend to either follow their own way or they answer to the group/planet leader they align themselves with. Most bounty hunters are rogues and some rogues have their own gangs and mobs like Mutants do. However, most rogues are law abiding. They just don’t follow any known Transformer way hence bearing the “faction” label “rogue”. For example, a Transformer may align themself with the Earth and they follow that planet’s leader. Specifically, the one in the country they reside in, but in the eyes of Transformer society, they are still deemed as a rogue.

[gabriel4sam]

Stolen moments, a Mon Mothma/Obi-Wan Kenobi story

Written for @swrarepairs  for @wrennette and betaed by @legobiwan

Mon Mothma is hiding with her Jedi protector. Despite that beginning, this isn’t a story about murder attempts.

The Chancellor of the Republic was hiding in her bedroom with her Jedi bodyguard.

It read like the beginning of a holonovel, a political thriller, perhaps , with one or two mysterious dead bodies- a Rhodian mogul and too many almost-naked Twi’lek ladies.

Like  most political holonovel thrillers.

Or perhaps it could be the beginning of a murder mystery,like Snorr Syrilax's popular 'Death in the Hyperlane' Series. Judicial would be crawling around her apartment, trying to find clues about the gruesome murders- if this had been that sort of story. There also would have been too many almost-naked Twi’lek ladies, because holonovel writers had a tendency to think that exposed flesh could substitute itself for good writing.

Despite that beginning, this wasn’t that sort of story.

Mon Mothma, freshly elected Chancellor of the Republic, felt instead like she was in some sort of comedy holodrama, the sort with a catchy tune, one billion episodes, and a disjointed plot where the characters revealed themselves to be long-lost siblings (only to discover their also long-lost father figure, who returned in dramatic fashion to save the family farm, ship, space station, or whatever was en vogue at the time).

She felt ridiculous, yet she wouldn’t have moved from their hiding spot in her bedroom for anything in the world. Here she was, the Chancellor of the Republic, the most powerful person in hundreds of systems, and her Jedi bodyguard, a member of the revered Jedi Council, hiding from her two clones bodyguards for fear of interrupting them!

“We should say we’re here,” Obi-Wan Kenobi, her Jedi bodyguard for the day, whispered against her ear, so low she struggled to understand the words. In the dark of the room, she could feel his breath against her skin every time he spoke, causing long shivers down her spine.

She grabbed his hand, like she wanted to stop him from interrupting the conversation in the other room, the conversation they were eavesdropping on despite themselves. From their position, they couldn’t understand the words. Only a murmur  reached them, and if they interrupted the two men, perhaps the discussion would never be restarted. Mon Mothma had been waiting for them to clean up their acts regarding this particular subject for months, since she had come to know them enough to understand what exactly was happening.

“If you even think of letting them know we’re here, I’m sending you to the furthest Salt Mines I can find!” she whispered fiercely in turn.

“You abolished the law giving you that sort of power yourself, three months ago,” he retorted

Mon Mothma snorted, in a very unlady-like manner. “I’ll find a way,” she half-laughed as Obi-wan buried his fist in his mouth to keep from laughing.

Mon Mothma smiled at his reaction.

“I’ve spent months enduring their endless pining, their misunderstandings. Months waiting for the day when one of them would say something, something about the love they so obviously share, instead seeing them muddle into every direction except the proper one! Not to mention that liaison with the Mon Calamari envoy-.”

“Don’t talk to me about it,” Obi-Wan said. “I had whiplash from the second-hand jealousy seeping into the Force  every time I was less than twenty meters from them.”

Mon Mothma had a decided smile. She hadn’t become Chancellor by lacking stubbornness “-So, I’m ready to stay here until they solve this tension between them for good, one way or another.”

In her living room, the shouting had started again.

“I’m sending them for remedial training,” Obi-Wan said suddenly.

This time, Mon turned to him in surprise “Why? They’re efficient, I think. From what I know of the duties of a  bodyguard, at least from the other side of the fence. Don’t the results speak for themselves? They have been on protection detail since I announced I would run for Chancellor. I ran, I won, and I’m still there, aren’t I? The Order can offer a bodyguard only for an official event, but the rest of the time, my safety relies on them.”

“We’re half an hour past the moment where you were supposed to come back to your apartment,” Obi-Wan explained. “They should already have tried to contact us. And they definitely should have verified all the rooms of the apartment when they arrived, instead of sniping and shouting at each other.”

“But, then, they would have found us,” Mon retorted, not clarifying why that would have been bad, either because the other two in her living room wouldn’t have had the conversation they deeply needed, or because she wouldn’t have been there, alone with Obi-Wan.

Since the death of Palpatine and the renewal of the Republic, she had seen a lot of Obi-Wan. Many of those moments with that particular Jedi had been full of unsaid things, unexplained, and unclarified. Mon Mothma wasn’t ready for words and she understood it was even more complicated for him.

To set sights on a Jedi was stupid. Not as stupid as it had been before- before the war and everything which had been shaken loose by the conflict. Even now, Padme Amidala’s career would never recover from loving Anakin Skywalker, and neither would Skywalker’s place in the Order. Even if it had been the lie, not the marriage, which had lost them their respective careers, and even if, in this strange, new post-war world where everything seemed possible, a few Jedi had publicly found love... The Chancellor and a Jedi?

In the other room, a suspicious silence fell, followed by a strange noise, like a body in full armour falling against a flat unforgiving surface.

Mon and Obi-Wan looked at each other, pink on their cheeks.

“Are they…”

“Oh no, they wouldn’t? In my living room? When I’m supposed to arrive?”

“Not sure they remember other people exist,” Obi-Wan admitted, creeping, silent as a Jedi could be to the door. He waited another second, and then, not hearing anything else, risked a glance, immediately receiving an eyeful. Apparently, Boil and Waxer had resolved their quarrel for the moment and one of them - Obi-Wan couldn’t see which - had the other pinned against the wall, kissing like their lives depended on it. As Obi-Wan debated if this was really good moment to speak, the first piece of armour fell to the ground, and he beat a hasty retreat.

A few assassins, a Nightsister, or even a Sith - they would have been better than the sensation of encroaching on this private moment. He was pretty sure those two idiots were about to have their first time, right here, right now, in Mon Mothma’s living room, when the Chancellor was supposed there.

“So much remedial training,” Obi-Wan grumbled, cheeks flushing.

“What do we do?” Mon asked when he turned back to her eyeing her clothes. Thank the Force, Chandrila, her home planet, had more common sense in terms of dressing up their politicians than Naboo with their meters and meters of brocade and headdresses weighty enough to test the neck of their wearer.

“Do you have a cape?” he asked, and when she had hidden the luminous white of her dress inside the folds of a grey cape, he opened the window and helped her step out on the balcony near a decorative caryatid sculpted with flowing robes similar to those draped around the Chancellor’s thin form. From the other room, the so-called conversation devolved into noises better left unheard for unintentional eavesdroppers .

“Are we supposed to spend the next hour hiding here?” she asked skeptically. “Yes, we can’t hear those two anymore, but before long, someone will call the holonews about the Chancellor alone on her balcony with a dashing Jedi.”

Obi-Wan snaked a firm arm around her waist and promised, “We won’t fall.” And then he jumped, still holding the Chancellor, and she would have yelled in terror, if not for the chance she might distract the Jedi. The air rushed around them as they moved in a manner contradicting every law of physics. He knew what he was doing, of course, and only a handful of seconds later, they were safely on the sidewalk, three buildings north and twenty stories down. She didn’t know if she wanted to slap him or take him in her arms and laugh. The rush of adrenaline was making her tremble. Around them, people paid them no heed, not even slowing in their walk. On Coruscant, nothing surprised anyone anymore.

“Mon?” Obi-Wan asked, and she saw in his eyes he feared to have overstepped in a moment of boldness.

“A little more warning, next time,” she replied. “Or I will slap you.”

“Politicians grow more ferocious every day”.

“Good politicians don’t jump from their bedroom window with a Jedi,” Mon laughed, and she pushed up her cowl to hide her well-known face the best she could. She felt alive, sparks dancing across her nerves. She loved her job, she understood her duty, but there was something exhilarating in the transgression of this moment.

“Come,” she ordered. “If I have a few hours of respite and anonymity, I want to make the most of it.”

“To be honest, I thought I would take you to the Senate.”

“And suddenly you’re lacking an adventurous spirit?” Mon retorted, taking his hand in a moment of courage, pulling him along.

“I had quite enough adventures during the war,” he protested, following Mon Mothma as she took them in the opposite direction of the Senate, intoxicating herself in the freedom of the crowds. Obi-Wan had pushed his own cowl over his head and in that moment, nobody knew who they were, the Chancellor and her bodyguard, now only two beings, free of duty, lost in the sea of sentients that was Coruscant. Mon Mothma laughed, then ran, keeping Obi-wan's hand in hers as the Jedi easily matched her pace, soon coming to her side. When she stumbled on a broken piece of sidewalk, Obi-Wan’s protective arm saved her from a fall, and without really understanding how it happened, they found themselves huddled against a closed repair shop. He cradled the back of her neck and finally, finally , after almost six months desiring that moment, his lips were on hers.

Coruscant, uncaring as ever, passed them by, not realizing the scoop that could be sold to the holonews, as the two humans kissed again and again.

It was the high-pitched horn in the closest lane of speeders that stopped them. They exchanged two shy smiles without a word, and then Obi-Wan took her hand again as they lost themselves in the crowd a second time. He guided her round the capital planet, Mon remembering when she had been an aide, then a junior politician- when she could make the most of the most exciting city in the Republic without a whole security detail.

Without talking about it, they avoided  public transport, simply walking, hand in hand, as Mon gorged herself on the colours and smells and people. After nearly an  hour, they arrived at a small diner with a broken neon sign and a creaking door, where Obi-Wan asked the Basilik cook for a discreet booth and two of his specials of the day.

Here, hidden by the tall booths, Mon dared to put down her cowl.

The special was too sugary and the caf stronger that she liked, but outside, night was falling, and in this grimy dinner, in their little bubble, the moment was perfect. She never wanted to leave, or at least, she wanted to pretend the night could be eternal and that a very irate Commander Cody, in charge of Coruscant security and technically Obi-Wan’s boss, wouldn’t come through the door in the next hour with a tale about Boil and Waxer’s panic and a sarcastic eyebrow that could make a stubborn Jedi and politician fall in line.

She took Obi-Wan’s hand again and he smiled, putting a  kiss on her fingers.

It was only stolen time, but whatever would happen, it was a perfect moment.

[howtohero]

#290 Commandeering a Vehicle

Look, let’s just come out and say it, grand theft auto is a crime and it’s illegal to do it for any reason at all. That being said... you’re a vigilante who fights crime without the aid, sanction and sometimes knowledge of organized law enforcement. So everything you do is illegal. So, in a way, nothing you do is illegal. You’re just picking and choosing which laws you follow and enforce anyway, so just don’t worry about it. You work hard to keep our cities safe and to keep that giant toad satisfied so it doesn’t eat our reality. You can have a little grand theft auto (as a treat) in specific situations where it serves the greater good.

Let’s say for example, that you’re engaging in a good old fashioned street brawl with a giant sentient millipede. Things are going remarkably well for you. Way better than you had any right to expect, considering your opponent has like a billion hands compared to your measly two. Millicent Pede didn’t see this coming at all and he’s (Millicent is apparently a boy name in sentient millipede culture, it’s best not to get into it with him) pretty upset about the whole thing so he says that he thinks he’s just gonna head out. A classic villain retreat. Villains are such sore losers. Why can’t they just be defeated and go to jail instead of running away all the time. Now, obviously you can’t let Pede get away to concoct more villainous schemes. His threat has loomed large over your town for far too long, you need to put a stop to this. Luckily, even though he’s got all those legs, Millicent isn’t all that fast. Catching him should be easy. Oh but what’s this? Millicent has a car??? How did that even happen. Who gave this giant millipede a car! How does he even operate it? Is it a custom design? (I know I mentioned “sentient millipede culture’ earlier, which might lead you to believe that there are more than one giant sentient millipede, which would in turn imply that there could feasibly be a market for giant sentient millipede automobiles, but actually Millicent is the only one!!!) So obviously you didn’t expect Millicent to have a car, so you didn’t even bring your car to this fight so you’ve found yourself in a bit of a bind. You need to stop this fiendish villain but you have no means to do so! And so you have to steal a car. This is of course only one scenario in which you might need to steal a car, there are plenty of others, this is just the most common one.

So how do you steal a car in a non-villainous way. Because you can’t do it in a villainous way (just ripping the roof off of a car and violently hurling the driver into the air) the last thing you want is for the public to star perceiving you as a villain. They’re savvy enough to know that every superhero is just one bad day away from turning evil, you don’t want them to think that that’s what’s happening now. You need the public on your side here. If you can swing it, you should even try to get the car’s owner on your side. Try to get them to be thanking you for allowing them to lend their wheels to the eternal fight for justice and freedom. So here’s what you do:

Step 1: Find a car you like: If time is of the essence, you want a car that’s got a driver, and keys (and a fresh soda in the cupholder) in it. In the event of a grand car chase, you don’t have time to hotwire a car. You also want a car that can go fast, as Millicent already has a head start on you. 

Step 2: Get the car to stop moving: You need to do this in a way that doesn’t damage the car. Depending on your durability you can try flinging yourself in front of the car. Standing imposingly in front of it. Or just jumping up onto the hood of it while its moving. Alternatively, you can fake a red light or a stop sign. (I always like to carry a few shrunken stop signs in my pocket that I can embiggen should I need a car to stop.)

Step 3: Clearly identify yourself and your credentials: This is one of the reasons why having a distinct costume is so important. You can bet that when a civilian sees Ultiman’s distinct U symbol and those spotless white and gold tights they’re going to stop their car and hand it over to him no questions asked. (You can also bet that when they see Professor Paleontologist’s sorry butt drag itself onto the freeway they speed up in an effort to run him down). If you’re not a particularly well-known superhero, you need to quickly explain to the driver that you’re a good guy and that you need their car to stop a bad guy. It might be smart to just carry around a bunch of little laminated cards stating those facts that you can just fling at the angry driver when they get out of their car to yell at you for throwing yourself in front of their car, as you climb into their car and steal it.

And there you have it! You’ve got a car, congratulations! Once you have somebody else’s car though, you need to always be aware of the fact that it’s not your car. Which means that if it gets totally wrecked in your attempts to stop crime it’s not your problem! Score! Your car will just be sitting in your garage the whole time. Ideal. However at the same time you can only damage their car whilst fighting crime. Once the crisis has been handled you need to carefully go back and return the car. You can only explain away damages that were caused in pursuit of the greater good, but anything else is on you!

Sure, stealing is usually wrong. But what’s more wrong? Borrowing one car against the will of its owner, or allowing a giant sentient millipede to scuttle free to scheme his evil schemes? And sure, Millicent is probably going to break out of prison soon enough. Supervillains rarely stay put for long after all. But in this moment they need to be stopped, and so you have my permission to commandeer any vehicle you want (except for our car) in pursuit of that goal and that millipede! [Note: How To Hero does not endorse grand theft auto and can not be held responsible for any criminal charges that are brought against you because you followed the advice of this post.]

[reverseopossum]

Why Sci-Fi Isn’t Broken (but can still be fixed)

I feel like I’ve seen a lot of commentary on science fiction now versus “golden age” sci-fi from the mid-20th century that goes along the lines of “back then, people were optimistic, they thought science was inherently good, and the space race had captured the public’s imagination. Now postmodernism, pessimism, and the small and personal nature of technological innovation has left us with drab dystopias and preachy allegories about being on our phones too much.”

Okay, I see where you’re coming from. As a side note, the kind of sci-fi with big gleaming interplanetary rocket ships is still alive and well, it just doesn’t occupy the same cultural real estate as before. Mainly, though, my problem with that analysis is that it conflates types of stories that were never meant to serve the same purpose.

Science fiction (especially the “hard sci-fi” variety) revolves around scientific ideas or imagined technology as a key part of the world building or plot. A perfect example would be I, Robot, where we’re literally following the progression of a technology across centuries: the robots’ philosophical problem solving with the famous three rules of robotics, how humans interact with the robots, and how the robots ultimately influence and save civilization.

 A story set in the future that revolves around politics or personal events and doesn’t have a science or tech idea relevant to the plot lands in the realm of speculative fiction. Probably the cleanest example of the difference would be The Handmaid’s Tale. Margaret Atwood specifically said that she chose not to introduce any distracting gadgets, and that everything that happens in the world of the story is intentionally based on something that has really happened. (She had really compelling and interesting reasons for doing this, by the way.) Obviously there’s a whole lot of overlap, sci-fi and speculative fiction are like a Venn diagram that’s mostly middle. 

Anyway, years ago I read a lot of the teen dystopia books everyone complains about (why doesn’t matter). And I noticed a common trend across almost all of them: YA-geared dystopias ask the audience to believe that the world in the future will be simpler than the world now. Worse, sure, but simpler. And that’s where I think speculative fiction can go off the rails. The problem isn’t that the authors think the story needs to be dumbed down for kids to like it, it’s that the world building is shaped around the plot and not the other way around. These stories follow a formula, right? Big Bad is an evil government of unspecified ideology but more or less coded as fascist. Ordinary Teenage Girl is politically apathetic and just wants to live her life, but some personal attribute makes this impossible. Once this becomes clear, Ordinary Teenage Girl goes through an inner and then outer rebellion, singlehandedly reinvents the concept of freedom,  inspires her people to rise up, and the ensuing conflict resolves within a binge-able trilogy. 

To be clear, the fact that there’s a formula with a predictable ending isn’t a problem in itself. The Hero’s Journey archetype is a formula with a predictable ending. Shakespeare's audiences knew the ending before the play started. The problem is that this particular formula is dishonest. Ordinary Teenage Girl lives in a world pared down to one city (or twelve). She has no cultural background, religion, or knowledge of history. She can count the people she loves on one hand, and within a timely arc they all agree with her. She can easily avoid government surveillance. There is no internet. 

(All of this is blamed on a nuclear cataclysm that wiped out civilization as we know it, which is ludicrous. If people survive at all, they’ll carry pretty major parts of their culture along with them. And if civilization has recovered enough that Big Bad is a powerful, centralized government, homegirl is probably going to have some kind of access to something resembling the internet.) My point is that the simplistic world the story depends on is inorganic, made for the story. Things never get simpler. High quality sci-fi goes the other way around: use an exciting idea as a world building premise, and let the story grow from there.

As an aside, imagine trying to set a YA dystopia novel’s plot outside of its simplified world. What if Protagonist Girl read George Orwell and Hannah Arendt and had theories about what the hell happened in the 21st century? What if, instead of a solemnly saluting crowd, she had to deal with an internet comments section? What if the government counter-propaganda was actually effective, meant to confuse, divide, and distract via trolls and clickbait? What if the conflict dragged on for a decade and the rest of the world treated Americans the way it treats Syrians? What if the climate hadn’t calmed down yet? (Oh look, it’s the sarcastic, fourth-wall breaking 800+ page monstrosity I’ve been intermittently working feverishly on and trying to abandon for eight years)

So, I’ll probably finish the above-mentioned speculative project, partly because it's been such a formative experience. But right now is a really exciting time to write actual sci-fi? The fact that our technology has gone small and personal instead of big doesn’t have to be creatively stifling. If anything it should make it easier to write emotionally and psychologically complex stories around hard sci-fi concepts. 

The truth is that science is moving faster than ever. I want to be a neuro PT, right? On a given day, I’m a lot more excited about small-scale technology that lets people control a computer with their brain than I am about space travel. I personally see more stories in neural lace than in plans for a Mars colony. Like, we’re just starting to figure out how brains do the braining. Give me some tragic heroes with otherworldly mental powers born of hubris. What are the consequences when we share too much of ourselves, or start to lean on technology controlled by someone else to inform our own inner monologue? Good old-fashioned warnings about unchecked surveillance? If you uploaded every synapse in your brain into a computer, would it be you? And if it turned out to be horribly otherwise, what rights would that entity have? If we could peer inside someone else’s consciousness, would enhanced empathy necessarily lead to enhanced compassion? Small-scale technology sci-fi is going to be so much more interesting than “our phones are turning us into zombies and Mark Zuckerburg owns your toaster” 

Long post. If a potato became sentient, what would happen?

[audreyxuan]

Body and Biology: Cross-Cultural Depictions of the Human Form in Cyberpunk Media

My project will concern the portrayal and treatment of the human body in cyberpunk media, particularly the role of body modification and biotechnology. I will define the history and origins of cyberpunk, a dystopian subgenre of science fiction borne out of paranoia around technology, capitalism, and globalisation. The human body has always played a significant role in the genre, as characters adapt or themselves to reach a perfect ideal, whether for weaponisation or aesthetic self-expression. This paper studies different approaches to the idea of humanity and whether it is inherently tethered to the physical, organic human body. My project covers a total of six media, three from Western countries and three from Eastern countries: Blade Runner (U.S./Hong Kong), Altered Carbon (U.S.), Gunnm (Japan), Ghost in the Shell (Japan), ACRONYM (Germany), and Comme des Garçons (Japan). The first four sources are all filmic media (movies or series) and are listed chronologically to show the role that each one had on the following. The final two sources are fashion labels that have been influenced by the form-consciousness ethos of cyberpunk, and recontextualise the body in two different ways: deconstruction and protection. I will explain the sociological and historical reasons why each media addresses the concept of humanity differently, especially in relation to concepts such as globalisation, free trade, and cultural diffusion. By exploring the idea of the body in relation to technology and modification, we can learn more about what it means to be human.

Cyberpunk is a subgenre of science fiction that operates in a futuristic, dystopian sphere. The movement originated from the New Wave sci-fi movement, which sought to dismantle the lowbrow B-movie myths the genre had become affiliated with in the 1950s. New Wave prioritised deep philosophical and narrative concepts over sensationalist storylines and genre clichés, such as the monster movie or the damsel in distress (Parker 2011). The late 1970s saw the start of a technological revolution, as mass-produced computers were offered to the public in 1977 (The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica 2020). With unprecedented technological advancement, as with anything new and strange, came a healthy--though some may argue exaggerated--degree of skepticism and distrust. 

Another important factor was that the birth of the subgenre came at the climax of the Cold War. The United States and Russia waged a war of beliefs, battling for ideological control; worldwide economic power and political systems would be determined by this outcome. “It is no coincidence that cyberpunk came of age in the era where capitalism was moving towards global dominance, culminating in its symbolic triumph at the fall of the Berlin Wall,” writes Paul Walker-Emig for The Guardian (2018). Capitalism’s laissez-faire, non-interventionist policy enabled international trade, leading to the rise of globalism and cultural diffusion. It also, however, allowed for socio-economic inequality and gross exploitation, reinforcing frustration among the lower- and middle-class.

The intellectual elements of New Wave sci-fi, the advent of wide-spread technology, and globalisation as a result of capitalism all combined in a perfect storm of paranoia and cynicism, giving birth to the cyberpunk subgenre.

One of the defining tropes of cyberpunk media is its relationship with the human body. The nature of that relationship can fluctuate, but it’s often obsessive and damaging. Whether it’s the anti-establishment sentiment of personal expression or the militaristic goal of creating a human weapon, bodies are enhanced, implanted, and amputated to meet a “perfect” ideal. Whatever the rationale, all modification is derived from an inherent dissatisfaction with the natural human form. This project will examine the portrayal and treatment of the human body in cyberpunk media, particularly the role of body modification and biotechnology. I will consider both Western and Asian depictions and explain the sociological reasoning behind their choices. Finally, we will move past filmic mediums and into the world of fashion, exploring how cyberpunk and its obsession with the body has filtered into the realm of our reality. 

Because of its dominance in the Cold War and its already-established film industry, the United States became one of the prime exporters of cyberpunk cinema. Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner, released in 1982, is considered to be one of the first cyberpunk films. The movie follows Rick Deckard, a bounty hunter tasked with killing androids known as “replicants”, originally created to populate newly-colonised planets. After some lead a violent uprising demanding freedom, all replicants are outlawed and ordered dead. Deckard describes the replicants as “more human than human and sometimes the ‘more’ turned out to be a problem” (Fancher 1980). If the replicants are sentient beings with who can think (and perhaps feel) like humans, should they be deprived of rights simply because they do not inhabit an organic human body? The Voight-Kampff machine Deckard uses to determine who is a replicant and who is not is about as reliable as a modern polygraph test, or perhaps even less so. In other words, it provides no safe answers about one’s true nature. The lines between human and robot are so blurred, some fans and scholars have adopted the idea that Deckard himself is a replicant, possibly without even him knowing (Organ et al. 12). 

While Blade Runner takes place in the U.S., there are clear Asian influences, from the visuals to the production (American Film Institute). The city is described as “a futuristic Los Angeles, modeled after the Hong Kong cityscape”, but Scott avoids appropriating imagery for mere aesthetic merit (Zhu 2016). Hong Kong, with its colonial history and fractured national identity, was specifically chosen for its relevance to Blade Runner’s story. In his case study “Hong Kong’s Influence on Blade Runner, Ghost in the Shell, and Cyberpunk Cinema”, Ray Zhu writes:

A typical Hong Kong street scene represented in the protracted scenes of cityscape in Blade Runner serve to illustrate a society confused about its own identity, about to implode at any moment. In Blade Runner, the conflict and tension between the Replicants, or cyborgs mimicking humans, and people of flesh and blood parallel the modern day consequences of increasingly expansive consumerism and intrusive technology encroaching on people’s lives. (2016)

After losing funding from an American production company, the movie was backed in part by Hong Kong producer Sir Run Run Shaw, making it a joint United States/Hong-Kong production (Sammon 64-67). Even though the film is helmed by an Englishman, written by Americans, and stars American and European actors, it’s interesting to consider how cross-cultural diffusion had a role in the production of the film itself. 

Much of the film is spent trying to pin down notions of what it means to be human, and a sense of uncertainty is woven throughout. Numerous rewrites and international releases have resulted in seven different versions of the film being released, leaving audiences questioning what the “real” ending is. In one iteration, the movie ends with Deckard and his replicant love-interest Rachael as they choose to begin their life on the run from authorities, their fate unknown (Grab 2013). This sentiment runs parallel to the narrative themes of Blade Runner: questioning what is authentic and what is not, never providing any definitive answers.

Gunnm, a 1993 anime adaptation of manga series Battle Angel Alita, plays with similar ideas of characters being defined by the nature of their bodies. Gally, known as Alita in some versions, is a dilapidated cyborg discovered by cyberdoctor Ido. Not even two minutes in, Ido proclaims “She’s human all right”, despite looking very clearly un-human; she has no limbs, only a disembodied torso of metal and wires (Gunnm 0:01:50). After her first fight, which she ends by dismembering two rival cyborgs, Ido rushes over to her, asking “Gally, are you alright? Is your body damaged?” (Gunnm 0:13:56). Her body is his primary concern. In every aspect except physically, Gally is human. She talks like a teenage girl, thinks like one, laughs like one. But Ido, her protector and father figure, sees her as a body, a weapon--something that happens to have consciousness, but never qualifies as fully human.

In 1995, Mamoru Oshii’s Ghost in the Shell was released. One of Japan’s seminal cyberpunk films, it takes place in a world where people can implant or replace their body parts with cybernetic tech. Major Motoko Kusanagi is a cyborg police agent in Neo-Tokyo, tasked with hunting down the Puppet Master, a hacker who infiltrates cyborgs without their knowledge. The Puppet Master appeals to Major as a fellow cyber-being, leaving her questioning her worth and humanity. By the end, he convinces her to upload his mind into hers, pooling their consciousness and knowledge and effectively betraying her human superiors. 

By the mid-90s, Ghost in the Shell was able to touch on new topics and new tech; during the genre’s inception in the early eighties, notions of Internet networks and advanced AI were still too abstract to be analysed. “The rapid development of artificial intelligence [...] reveals the identity crisis of mankind as they are developing a more close-knit connection with machine over time,” write Hui-tong Zhou and Jing An (136). They explain how the “Ship of Theseus” problem applies to Major’s artificially-implanted memories: “if all of parts of physical body are superseded by machines, and if the memory of one is completely distorted or disappeared, is this human still the original one?” (Zhou and An 138). If her body parts (including her brain) were replaced with technology, piece-by-piece, is Major human? Her ultimate decision to join the Puppet Master suggests not. Ghost in the Shell debates not only the difference between how we should treat robots versus humans, but the essential differences in defining the two.

Almost four decades after Blade Runner, Altered Carbon (2018 to present) was aired, taking many of its stylistic and thematic cues from Scott’s masterpiece. In the future, human consciousness can be uploaded onto biotech devices called stacks, which can be implanted in any human “sleeve”. “Your body is not who you are,” speaks an unnamed narrator in voiceover. “You shed it like a snake sheds its skin.” (S1E1 “Out of the Past” 0:06:55). Like Blade Runner, it takes place in an endlessly-rainy, neon-drenched, globalised metropolis called Bay City, where the main currency is UN credits and characters often switch into Spanish, Arabic, Japanese, or German. The world is highly-stratified, as the rich live in towering skyscrapers far from the streets and slums of the poor. Activist groups demand rights for human sleeves, who can be bought and sold like slaves for billionaires who want a new body. Like modern-day cosmetic surgery, it’s an example of how capitalism lets the rich modify themselves to fit beauty standards. 

Protagonist Takeshi Kovacs suffers from paranoia and PTSD, feeling a disconnect to his new sleeve and seeing his old face in the mirror. He was born as a person of Asian descent, played by Korean-American actor Will Yun Lee, but is resleeved into the body of a white man (Swedish-American Joel Kinnaman). Changing one’s physical identity is perhaps a more interesting concept than the straightforward physical immortality that the stack technology provides. Creator Laeta Kalogridis addresses the fact that switching bodies has particularly important implications for transgender and genderfluid people.“This kind of technology creates interesting intersections between your idea of your physical self and your idea of your inner or spiritual self, or your idea of being fluid in some way, certainly the idea of reassigning your gender,” says Kalogridis in an interview with The Wrap (Maas 2018). The series employs decades-old themes of identity, globalisation, and capitalism that are still, and perhaps painfully, relevant. Paying homage to cyberpunk’s body-obsessive origins but with an added social context, Altered Carbon covers new, socially-conscious ground in the genre.

The conscious examination of the relationship between the body and technology has transcended non-filmic mediums and found its way into various artistic disciplines. From Japanese illustrator Hajime Sorayama’s hyper-sexualised humanoid robots to upcoming biotech-themed video game Cyberpunk 2077, the genre’s unique aesthetic cues have been embraced by every corner of the design and media industry. But perhaps most fascinating is how cyberpunk, given its fixation on the human form, has been appropriated by the fashion world, from high fashion to streetwear. 

Japanese fashion label Comme des Garçons, founded by Rei Kawakubo, is known for “deconstruction and silhouettes that reimagine the human form” (Smith 2017). They are not so much clothes as pieces of art, “objects for the body” that redefine our anatomy (Bolton 157). Her items are often abstract to the point of being unwearable, like an oddly-shaped plaid dress from her Spring/Summer 1997 collection “Body Meets Dress, Dress Meets Body”. This collection was described as “a reorganization of the body, where the symmetry of desirable curves is mocked, literally pushed aside and distorted by tumorous lumps and bumps” (de Perthuis 9). Other releases were driven by similarly disruptive ideas: “skirts and jackets were made entirely of shoulder segments [...] garments came with ‘spares’--one dress would have two more hanging from the shoulders, and jackets had extra sleeves” (de Perthuis 9). Her anti-fashion ethos seeks to evolve notions of clothing, and how it is more powerful as a tool of expression and emotion than as mere visually-appealing aesthetic. “Clothes provide a physical and symbolic barrier between ourselves and the world. Linked to gendered, cultural and social identities, they connect us to others, but can also separate and protect us from their gaze,” writes professor of design and communications Karen de Perthuis (11-12). By challenging the very definition of fashion itself, Kawakubo subverts not only beauty standards but body standards.  

While Kawakubo supposedly works in a self-proclaimed “void of fashion history”, much of what we see on the runways is often a reflection of current trends in underground fashion (de Perthuis 10). In the past few years, independent streetwear brands have tended towards utilitarian clothing that values practicality over all else, owing much of its aesthetic to the world of cyberpunk. Techwear and tactical wear is nearly always black (though may feature shades of grey or camouflage), accented with straps and buckles and made of durable materials like nylon, mesh, and paracord. Popular items include cargo pants, waterproof Gore-Tex jackets, face masks, utility vests, and hooded parkas. German fashion label ACRONYM is one of the leading brands in the techwear scene. The brand’s proprietary features sound like science fiction, like “Sound Forcelock - A hidden magnetic function near the collar to hold earbuds in place while wearing the jacket” or “EscapeZip - Allows the wearer to quickly unzip the jacket with one quick pull” (Li 2016). The label’s unofficial mission statement is “maximum utility and a futuristic aesthetic that blends militaristic designs with a sleek science fiction minimalism”, and their promotional videos use “stylized sci-fi films and anime [as] major sources of inspiration” (Li 2016). ACRONYM’s integration of technology into clothing serves as a form of modification; while not implanted into the body itself, the tech enables and enhances the wearer to move differently and perform better.

Many techwear pieces are reminiscent of cyberpunk’s combat-ready costumes; an ALYX chest rig wouldn’t look out of place on Ghost in the Shell’s Major. The popularity of this militaristic aesthetic, writes Tyler Watamanuk of SSENSE, “crest[s] on a backdrop of heightened conversations surrounding gun violence” (2020). The cargo pants, strappy harnesses, and combat boots remind Watamanuk of an infamous security camera still from the Columbine shooting. Utilitarian style “can trigger memories of terror and violence, fear and panic. [...] Ultimately, the poignancy of an aesthetic is informed by what we collectively associate it with” (Watamanuk 2020). Like Kawakubo’s work, utilitarian style uses clothes as objects to rework our physiques; rather than deconstruct the body, tactical wear armours and protects it. Labels like Comme des Garçons and ACRONYM ask wearers for permission to change their bodies, or sometimes demand it--by putting on a piece of clothing, you become something else.

Cyberpunk emerged in a time of uncertainty, exploring rapid globalisation, economic inequality, international trade, and cultural diffusion. Most importantly, though, it asks the most essential question: who is human, and who decides? Over the past forty years, both the West (Blade Runner, Altered Carbon, ACRONYM) and East (Battle Angel, Ghost in the Shell, Comme des Garçons) have grappled with this idea, each work influenced by the history of their regions. From Fritz Lang’s social drama Metropolis to Cold War allegory Invasion of the Body Snatchers, science fiction has always used fantastical settings to study the emotions, actions, and reactions of people in unprecedented situations. By studying the way we view the body, we can discover what it means to be strong, to be beautiful, to be human.

Works Cited

American Film Institute. “Blade Runner.” AFI Catalog of Feature Films, catalog.afi.com/Film/68260-BLADE-RUNNER.

Bolton, Andrew. Rei Kawakubo/Comme des Garçons: Art of the In-Between. Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2017.

de Perthuis, Karen. “Breaking the Idea of Clothes: Rei Kawakubo’s Fashion Manifesto.” Fashion Theory: The Journal of Dress, Body and Culture, 7 Jan. 2019, doi.org/10.1080/1362704X.2018.1531621.

The Editors of Encyclopaedia Britannica. “Personal computer.” Encyclopædia Britannica, 31 Jan. 2020, britannica.com/technology/personal-computer.

Fancher, Hampton. “Blade Runner.” 24 Jul. 1980, screenplay.com/downloads/scripts/Blade%20Runner.pdf.

Grab, Eiskaltes. “Blade Runner.” Movie Censorship, 7 Jun. 2013, movie-censorship.com/report.php?ID=774077.

Gunnm: Battle Angel. Directed by Hiroshi Fukutomi, Madhouse, 1993, youtube.com/watch?v=tofSaLB9kwE.

Li, Rocky. “Master Class: ACRONYM.” Grailed, 30 Nov. 2016, grailed.com/drycleanonly/master-class-acronym.

Maas, Jennifer. “‘Altered Carbon’ Creator on How Show Could Examine LGBTQ Issues in Season 2.” The Wrap, 13 Feb. 2018, thewrap.com/altered-carbon-transgender-stacks-lgbt-laeta-kalogridis.

Organ, Michael K., Susan Jones, Anthony M. Rice, & Grant C. White. “Catching 'tears in the rain': Blade Runner and the archiving of memory and identity.” Australian Society of Archivists Conference: Archives in a Blade Runner Age, 2018, ro.uow.edu.au/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1734&context=asdpapers.

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Zhou, Hui-tong & Jing An. “How Cyborgs Define Themselves: On Ghost in the Shell.” International Conference on Education, Social Sciences and Humanities, 2018, pdfs.semanticscholar.org/81d9/6083bcaa47cfaa3768b3e994b238224e168e.pdf.

Zhu, Ray. “Case Study: Hong Kong’s Influence on Blade Runner, Ghost in the Shell, and Cyberpunk Cinema.” Medium, 31 Dec. 2016, medium.com/@ray.zhu/bridging-the-gap-sci-fi-cinema-and-depictions-of-hong-kong-sar-b15800678c29.

[sunshinewhale]

a snowdrop flower

it blooms in winter.

pairings: minhyuk x reader   pov: unnamed reader, reader centric, second person

genre: not angst???   words: ~2800

*optional* follow up to [ an oxeye daisy ].

notes: can be read stand-alone. probably.

You see Minhyuk again in the first month of winter, when part of autumn still greets you at your doorstep and the first snowfall is still a wishful dream.

It was a coincidence.

It’s not like Minhyuk was faint graphite and you intended to erase him from your life entirely. (If anything, he was permanent marker, the kind that stubbornly remains even when you’ve soaped your skin raw.) It’s not like Minhyuk wanted you removed completely from his existence, either. Neither of you were made to play the part of the scorned ex with a misplaced vendetta. Breaking your relationship was such a violent crime it left a temporary trauma on your innocent history, and before it could mend itself back into the familiarity of friendship, Minhyuk needed the solace of distance, and you needed time.

And time is kind. To injured hearts, time is the best medicine, the gentlest healer that believes in your soul and teaches you that darker nights can eventually be tearless.

You’re doing better. You could even say you’re doing well.

Your emotions are freer, in a cage with the door slightly ajar. Maybe you’re still somewhat restrained by choice and the scars of old habits, but there’s freedom at your fingertips and you’re no longer shackled by the fear of the unknown. You know your heart can survive anything, now. You smile a little more than you used to, you laugh a little more, but you cry a lot more, too.

You happened to pass by Kihyun’s quaint cafe on one of your off days, so you figured you might as well drop in, say hello and grab a drink. Minhyuk was sitting at a table nestled by the window, watching the mundane life of the city, so he spots you a close street away.

When you enter, he moves from his seat and comes up to you. He’s smiling brightly as he presses his warm palms against the winter-kissed redness of your cheeks. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You look up at him slowly, but you’re not surprised at his presence. He’s smiling at you, and from the crinkles of his eyes to the curve of his lips, you know it’s genuine. Something in your chest settles as your heart recovers another fragment of forgotten peace.

Minhyuk can smile. Minhyuk’s okay.

Minhyuk’s doing well, too.

“It has,” you smile back and it comes with natural ease, “it’s been quite a while.”

You join him at his table. There’s a bit of strain in the atmosphere, but it’s comfortable, and you two play on the safe side. Minhyuk chatters away about everything but nothing, the weather, the upcoming bowling tournament, the shenanigans of his friends. You watch the way sunlight catches in his hair and you bask in his healthy glow. He’s just as radiant as the day you first met him, and that’s really all you could’ve asked for.

“And I told him! A million times! But Kihyun just won’t stop nagging—”

“You didn’t order and it’s been forever since you came in so I just made your regular,” Changkyun interrupts, completely ignoring Minhyuk as he leans over to hand you the latte. “It’s on the house today, I got Kihyun’s approval.”

“I’m sure Kihyun’s disapproval wouldn’t have stopped you,” you quip in thanks, and the younger sticks his tongue out.

“Yeah, because he’s such a little shit,” Minhyuk mutters, pouting, “doesn’t even acknowledge his hyung’s existence.” He’s purposely indiscreet so you and Changkyun hear him loud and clear.

You see Changkyun’s eyebrows raise. His eyes flickers quickly between you and Minhyuk, and the corner of his mouth curls up devilishly. You gave a subtle shake of your head. No, Changkyun. Too soon.

“You betcha. Someone told me good girls dig lil’ shits these days, right baby?” the younger male winks at you as he bites his lower lip suggestively. It’s horridly obnoxious.

“Changkyun,” you deadpan, your nose scrunching up in newfound disgust, “stop that.”

“I’ll see you around, baby,” he drawls, and blows you a dramatic kiss. He cooly turns around and saunters to the counter without looking back.

Minhyuk blinks a few times in dumbfounded stupor before he whips around, eyes levelling you with playful accusation. His fingers clutch his chest in mock hurt. “Since when have you been making moves on Changkyun? Was I that easy to get over?”

You laugh, feeling a deja vu of fondness fill your heart. “It took me so long to learn how to love you, how could getting over you possibly be easy, quick or painless?”

Minhyuk lights up and his laughter joins you. You’re not sure, but your imagination thinks it hears a soft edge of relief in his happiness.

.

.

minhyuk: i’m really happy i got to see you, today. :)

you: me too.

.

.

You bump into Minhyuk again during the second month of winter, when the sky is a sunless grey and frost is a constant bite at your skin, but there is still no sign of snowfall.

It might not snow this year, you think, what a shame.

It’s raining heavily. Water is pouring from above, as if some sentient being has a sinister motive to drown the city and crown it the next Atlantis. You can’t even distinguish individual raindrops. By chance, both you and Minhyuk ended up seeking temporary refuge at Kihyun’s cafe to see if the rain would let up with some patience.  

Minhyuk checks his watch and bites his lip. He’s been becoming increasingly jittery for the past ten minutes, and you can physically see anxiety running in his veins.

“If I don’t want to be late for my schedule I need to leave now, but I don’t even have an umbrella, then by the time I get there I’ll look like an unlovable drenched mop,” he’s rambling out of restlessness, and you can hear agitation crawling into his voice, “Kihyun will yell at me for tracking in water and Hyungwon is going to laugh at my misery and then I’ll get sick because I’ll be cold and wet and then I’ll be out of commission for the next week.”

He takes a deep breath, exhales, and bites his lip again. There’s enough pressure this time that you’re afraid he might break flesh and end up with a bleeding lip.

“Take mine,” you say simply.

He looks at you with unfounded offense as if you had just cursed at him instead. “Then you won’t have one! What kind of person do you think I am?! I won’t have you out there in that terrible, terrible weather like a defenseless baby!”

You can’t help it. A traitorous chuckle escapes you, and you cover your mouth quickly to stifle it. You feel Minhyuk’s gaze harden on you, he’s very much serious and very much unamused.

“We’ll walk together to the bus stop, and then I’ll take my bus home. You know I live by the station,” you compromise.

He lets out a sulky huff, but he agrees. His eyes narrow at the cheekiness twinkling in your eyes as you lead him out the cafe door. Like a good friend, you hold your tongue and swallow the urge to tease him that he doesn’t have a better option, anyway.

You let out an involuntary hiss as the winter air hits you. The hair on your skin raises in frigid shock and goosebumps dance in tiny prickles along your whole body. Behind you, Minhyuk yelps dramatically in a similar fashion.

“It would be warmer if it would snow,” he says, and he breathes out to watch his breath condense into white puffs.

If the cold was biting, the rain attacked like liquid ice, even on clothed skin. Minhyuk huddles closer to you to keep the fading warmth as he holds the umbrella (because he’s the taller one, he argued, and left no room for disagreement). You hadn’t realized exactly when, but the sneaky man had maneuvered you to his right to keep you on the inside of the sidewalk, safe from unwanted showers gifted by passing cars.

It’s a modest distance to the bus stop, but Minhyuk’s already in violent shivers when you arrive.

His coat is too thin in the first place, and his left side rather soaked. He’s freezing scarlet from the tip of his nose to the curve of his ears and you can hear him sniffling pitifully like a newborn puppy. You sigh softly.

You remove your wool scarf and begin wrapping it around his neck and shoulders. As soon as he realizes what you’re doing, he pouts at you and squirms in protest. “Nooo—”

“You know you’re a summer child,” you are firm, and you hold a finger up to his lips to shush him, “you get sick so easily in colder weather, and you have so much to do, it’s harder on your health. Unlike you, I actually have regular days off. ”

You take your earmuffs off and you have to tiptoe to slide them over his ears, careful to smooth down his hair to preserve his styling.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice that you were putting in extra effort to keep me dry instead of looking after yourself? Only the left side of you is ridiculously wet.”

In a rare slice of silence, Minhyuk avoids your stern stare for a bit and watches you adjust the scarf on his shoulders instead of meeting your eyes. He has the decency to be a little sheepish, so you let it slide. Once you’re done, he pulls your scarf up to cover his rudolph nose. You think he seems a touch shy. You’re not sure if he’s blushing or if it’s the icy flush of the weather.

You hear a loud sniff.

“Don’t use my scarf to wipe your snot,” you glare at him, rummaging through your bag and handing him a small pack of tissues, “that’s gross.”

He accepts the tissues from you with a grand flourish and puts it in his coat pocket. When he takes his hand out, he holds a finger heart up to your face. His eyes crinkle into mischievous little crescents and you know exactly which grin he’s grinning under the layer of wool.

“How did you know I was thinking it?”

.

.

you: did you get there, warm, safe and dry?

minhyuk: yes!!

minhyuk: ...at least, dry enough, lol.

minhyuk: thank you so much! let’s meet up soon so i can return your stuff!! <3

.

.

You meet up with Minhyuk in the dead of winter, when all the wonderstruck beauty of the season has already passed, and you are still wishfully hoping for snowfall.

On a whim, you two decide to talk a stroll through the park, to reminisce the past. The naive, innocent past, when Minhyuk had just meant to be friends, when you didn’t know if your heart could handle loving, when neither of you knew what cruel tragedy would break both of you when that simple relationship turned into romance.

You count yourself lucky, because you can find traces of the friendship that you and Minhyuk shared before, glimmering like hidden gold under a limitless sea of wasted trash.

There’s really not much to see, even in the most quaint depths of the park where mother nature slumbers. You hear the brittle crunches of dried life under your steps. The grass has lost its green, the land is barren and littered with mottled leaves. The trees fare no better, stripped naked and quivering for cover. You haven’t seen the sun for days, and you wish it would stop hiding behind an endless blanket of winter fog.

But you have Minhyuk’s company by your side, and just like the past, that’s already enough to make everything seem a little brighter.

“...Sunny. Like the sun. A lot of people call me sunshine.”

“Oh, I’m one of them. I used to compare you to the sun. I still do, sometimes,” you hum, and your vision drifts to the silver-clouded horizon in the distance, “but these days, I think of you more as a snowflake.”

“Snowflake?” Minhyuk asks. There’s a whine to his voice and he’s giving you the stink eye, an over dramatic frown is etching wrinkles in his whole face, “like the good-for-nothing, special snowflakes?”

“No,” you laugh, and wave his displeasure away, “not like that.”

He snorts. “Well, good. Because I’ll have you know I’m a package of delight.”

You laugh again, and your happiness flows into winter’s embrace, lighthearted and airy. Minhyuk’s satisfied with his humor and grins at your laughter, and you think you can find beauty in the bleakness of this season even if snow decides not to grace its presence this year. You fix your gaze on where you think the sun might be shining.

“You’re a snowflake that fell into the palm of my hand and melted away in a brief moment. It was short-lived, but it was such a precious experience. I know I still have countless winters, and I will see countless snowfalls, but I won’t ever be able to catch the same snowflake again.”

You turn to meet his eyes, your heart beating on your sleeve.

Your pulse is steady in sureness, calm in your conviction.

“You will always be you, Minhyuk. You’re not my last love. I know I will love again, and maybe I’ll love many, many times and maybe I’ll love even more, but I won’t ever love anyone like I loved you.”

Minhyuk expression shifts to something else, and he looks at you weirdly. You can’t quite place that something in the light of his eyes, and you wonder if you’ve said something out of line. Your lips part in haste to change the topic when you feel a fleeting coldness settle on your nose like a fluttering hello.

Snow.

It’s the first snowfall.

.

.

minhyuk: i need to see you. i’m outside.

minhyuk: please come.

.

.

The first snow is still falling, and winter finally mirrors an enchanted fairytale.

There’s a thin layer of white silk on the ground, but what surprises you is that there’s a light dusting on Minhyuk.

You rush to greet him, worry harsh on your tongue. “What are you doing, Minhyuk? We could’ve met somewhere indoors. Are you trying to get sick—”

He gently grasps your hand, and you involuntarily flinch. His skin is frighteningly frigid, cold but burning red. His nose is running for days and he’s sniffling without restraint. You think he’s been outside for at least an hour for who knows what, and that was your lesser estimate. His fingers are awkwardly stiff, but he slowly laces his fingers in between yours with clumsy tremors.

“I was thinking,” his voice is raspy and wet, and he repeats, “I was thinking.”

“Can’t you think indoors, maybe? Somewhere warmer?”

He shakes his head, shutting his eyes with burdens you might never know, and you purse your lips to give him silence.

“Listen to me,” he pleas, “just listen.”

His words are firmly grounded when he speaks again, and you think he’s never been this serious with you.

“You’re not everything. I can be perfectly happy as friends. I think I can live without you, too.”

He narrows the close distance between you, and his grip tightens slightly to convey his carefully contemplated sincerity.

“But I don’t want to.”

Like the way he always used to, he cradles you with tenderness and touches his forehead against yours. He blinks his uneven blink that makes your heart swell in adoration and his eyes are still glassy with earnesty and pure with clarity.

You can still see yourself in their reflection.

“Let’s try again. Let’s try even harder. This time, let’s be reckless.” Minhyuk breathes, and he’s not promising you anything but the present. “Let’s hurt. Let’s hurt together, and heal together, then smile together.”

He looks a little lost and out of his element. He also looks like he’s found the weakness of vulnerability, but he doesn’t waver even as he searches you for an answer.

He reminds you of you, a few seasons ago.

You lean in and catch his lips. He feels like soft ice, and it’s nowhere near a perfect kiss. It’s a bit wet and Minhyuk is almost unbearably cold, he’s still sniffling and you’re sure he has some snot on his lips. There are snowflakes falling on your face and into your eyes and the chill stings a little against your heated skin but you wouldn't have it any other way.

Okay, you kiss him again and your kiss tells him, okay, let’s try one more time.

It’s in the dead of winter when your love begins to bloom again.

You and Minhyuk don’t need to wait for spring.

[allisondraste]

Convalescence (2/5)

Chapter 2: It’s Poetic

Story Summary: It has been four months since the Blight ended, and four months since Alistair and Lucia have seen each other. Relationships are hard, especially when there is no certainty that one still exists. (Sequel to “Let Me Go”)

Chapter Summary:  It is a lot easier for Lucia to deal with the affairs of the wardens than to deal with the affairs of the heart. It takes a friend to help her care for herself.

Pairings: Alistair x F!Amell, Alistair x F!Non-Warden Cousland, Nathaniel Howe x F!Non-Warden Cousland

[AO3 LINK]

Chapter 1

The crisp morning air tingled against Lucia’s face as she stood atop the battlements overlooking the Keep, her Keep.  Unable to sleep, as was her custom more nights than not, she had wandered outside in only her light linen leggings and tunic, hoping that the biting Fereldan wind would numb her heart and quiet her mind as it numbed her nose and fingertips.  It was a foolish notion, but one that gave her some measure of comfort more than tossing and turning in a bed that was too large for one person. Lucia liked the cold, anyway. It reminded her of her travels, the Frostback Mountains, and campfires with songs and stories over them.  It was the most at home she could feel at Vigil’s Keep.

Warden-Commander Amell. Hero of Ferelden Amell. She still shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her titles and the responsibility that they placed upon her.  The Keep had formerly belonged to the traitorous Rendon Howe and his family, but was seized and gifted to the Grey Wardens to honor their sacrifices for the Fereldan people.  It was a place to rebuild their presence and heal from the Blight that had nearly destroyed them. Since Lucia’s arrival multiple wardens had been successfully joined and those loyal to the wardens’ cause had volunteered their time and funds to insure that the fortress was nearly impenetrable .  And it was. The Keep withstood a siege of sentient darkspawn and allowed Lucia and her fellow wardens to save the city of Amaranthine. Her Keep and her wardens were something of which she should be proud. Yet she felt nothing but guilt.

Lucia had read the tales of Blights past, of noble heroes riding their griffon steeds to slay the Old Gods whose awakening caused the darkspawn to rise to the surface.  Five times in written history had this occurred, and in all but one instance, the Grey Warden who slayed the corrupted creature did so at the cost of their life. It was a hero’s sacrifice, one that Lucia did not make.  No, instead she had allowed two people she loved more than herself to make a sacrifice for her. Everybody lived, but at what cost? It seemed that everything had only worsened since she had slain the dragon. There were days, like this one, when she wondered if the world would have been better off if she had died in the typical Blight Hero fashion.

Then she thought of Alistair.  They had fought tirelessly under this same sky to gain the allegiance of the Dwarves, Dalish, and Circle of Magi.  Together they won the support of the landsmeet, the favor of the queen, and ended a Blight before it really even started.  Just the two of them alone had accomplished what it had taken armies and over a decade to do during the Fourth Blight. They had come to love one another during that hardship, an unwise decision, but one she could not bring herself to regret.  Alistair would have never let her make the sacrifice. At least this way, with Morrigan’s ritual, he had been allowed to live.

Lucia leaned forward against the parapet, elbows resting on the cold, rough stone.  She twirled the shriveled remains of a white rose between her thumb and index finger, and allowed herself a bitter, tearful laugh.  There were more wardens now than there ever had been since her joining, more people who would risk life and limb for her and her cause, yet she had never felt more alone than she did in this moment.  No matter how many bands of talking darkspawn into which she flung herself, nor how many duties she carried, she could not shake the memory of the last conversation she had with him.

She had been in a bad place, they both had.  She knew that they needed time and distance from the pain to heal, and freedom to work through an enormous grief in their own ways.  At the time, she had not been certain there was a future to be had with him. It was difficult to see past the demons in her head with whispers of an escape from the suffering and promises of contentedness.  Whispers and promises that sounded more like screams to her desperate heart.

Without a doubt, her choice to leave had been for the best.  However, the manner in which she left and the choice to not write him, not even once, were not.  She didn’t know how she expected him to react when he found her attempting to sneak away without a goodbye.  She didn’t know why she didn’t tell him she loved him before she left nor why she could not seem to remember how to write every time she picked up a quill and parchment.  What was she to say for herself anyway? That she was sorry for ripping his heart out, stomping on it, and running away because she was scared of what she had done? Knowing Alistair, though, he would have simply appreciated notice that she was alive.  

Hearing footsteps behind her, she wiped away a rogue tear that escaped down her cheek.  She turned to see a dark-haired man approaching her carrying a heavy woolen blanket. She furrowed her brows in confusion, wondering what Nathaniel could possibly want this early in the morning.

“Some of the guards saw you leave your quarters in the middle of the night, and were worried when you didn’t return.  I figured I might find you up here, attempting to freeze to death,” he remarked dryly as he draped the blanket around her shoulders.  “If you want to die, I can think of a hundred more noteworthy ways to go.”

“I’m not trying to freeze to death,” she retorted defensively, “I just… couldn’t sleep.”

“Troubled?”  Nathaniel’s tone changed, suggesting that he understood now was not a great time for banter.  He joined her in resting his elbows on the parapet.

“I’m fine.  Just… restless.” She looked straight ahead, not really focusing on anything in particular. It was a vain attempt to avoid his gaze. “You know, you’re an excellent commander, but a piss poor liar.”  He offered her a knowing look and his eyes flicked to the mummified rose in her hand.  “What’s that?” He nodded toward the flower.

“Its… my latest weapon of choice.”  She said, sarcasm enveloping her as a defensive barrier.

“A withered rose?”  His expression was a mix of amusement and irritation.

Lucia shrugged.  “It’s poetic.”

“Right.”  Nathaniel rolled his eyes in a display of insubordination that would have offended her had he not actually been more friend than fellow warden. “Permission to speak... candidly?”

“Always.”

“You think entirely too much.”

His remark caught her by surprise and she turned her head abruptly to look at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that I have seen you thumbing that rose with a sour look on your face every day since I’ve been here.” He was observant, she would grant him that much.  Either that, or she had been indiscreet. “That is a lot of thinking and looking miserable without doing anything about it.”

“It’s unwise to act without thinking things through,” she offered in her defense.  That was how she had always operated: consider all possible outcomes and make the best choice.  It was logical.

“Maybe so,” the other warden conceded, “But it is stupid to waste so much time thinking about the possibilities that you lose something important to you because you were too stubborn to act.”

“I don’t know what to do, Nathaniel!” She threw her hands up in exasperation.

“Well, what does your gut say?”

“My gut? But that’s not how I -” “What does it say,” he interrupted, pressing her to answer.

“I need to go to Denerim, “ she stated definitively, surprised by her own certainty.

“Then we are going to Denerim,” Nathaniel ordered as if he were her commander now. He probably should have been, if she were honest. “Come on.”

“Now?” Panic seized her at the prospect of Denerim and Alistair. As much rumination as she had engaged in about what she could have or should have done, she was wholly unprepared to face him.  She had no idea if he would even want to see her.

“Yes. Now.”  Nathaniel whirled around as he spoke, waving for her to follow. “I’m tired of you moping about.”

True to his word Nathaniel insisted that they leave at that instant, allowing her a half hour or so to pack her things and collect her hounds as she refused to travel without them.  It was morning, and a perfect time to embark, or so he said. It was a full day’s travel to the capital, and it was safer in the daylight. She wanted to resent him for pushing her to make the journey, however, she could be nothing but grateful because she did not think she could bring herself to do it alone.  For all the things she had faced over the past few months, possible rejection from Alistair was the most daunting. What if he wasn’t even there? Would that be worse than him being there and not wanting to see her? She couldn’t be sure.

As they reached the city, Nathaniel rode on inside, but Lucia stalled by the gates as the feeling of dread overwhelmed her.  Rune and Fang whimpered and growled at either side of her, causing the horse to stir anxiously. Mabari were indeed too smart for their own good.  They knew that she was dragging her feet, and they knew that she was sad. She could no longer fool anybody into thinking she was okay. Not even the dogs.

“I know, I know,” she whined, not sure why she should have to explain herself to them, “I’ll talk to him.  I just need to take my time.” Both hounds barked cheerfully, satisfied with her promise.

“Hurry up,” Nathaniel shouted from ahead of her, clearly not as satisfied by her words “I can hear you thinking back there.”

She groaned and urged her horse forward into the expanse of Denerim’s market district.  It looked so much different than the last time she had seen it, although admittedly it had been immediately following the battle.  Everything was burning and Darkspawn corpses littered the ground at every turn. It had taken days for the smell of carrion and smoke to leave her nostrils.  

Now, the district was teeming with the life she had always known it to have.  Children played in the streets and gasped in amazement as the wardens rode by.  Judging from the whispers of “That’s her!” and “The Hero of Ferelden is here!” she knew that there would be little hope of reaching the castle before word did.

As she expected, news of the wardens’ arrival reached the castle ahead of them, as Queen Anora sent servants out to greet them.  Stable workers took their horses as they dismounted, another servant took the dogs, and a young woman, who couldn’t have been more than fifteen stood by the door, a pleasant smile on her face.

“Her majesty is waiting for you in the throne room,” the girl said bowing her head.  

“Thank you,” Lucia said softly and Nathaniel nodded.

The doors to the palace opened into an open vestibule that was attached to the main hall.  Lucia and Nathaniel moved swiftly across the room and through the heavy wooden doors ahead of them.  The hall was just as Lucia remembered it, only there were fewer people and less chatter. Sunlight filtered in through large windows near the ceiling and a contingent of guards stood by the throne.  Queen Anora sat, posture erect and very proper, at the far end of the room. She stood when she noticed the pair of Wardens and began to approach them, leaving her guards behind to grumble.

“Warden-Commander,” she exclaimed, “This is a pleasant, if not unexpected surprise.”  She paused, her eyes darting toward Nathaniel, an amused expression spreading across her face.

“It has been some time, your majesty,” Nathaniel said fondly.

“Indeed it has, my friend.” Anora nodded and examined his armor, “You are a Grey Warden now?”

“Apparently,” he answered sarcastically, “I came home from Starkhaven to nothing but rumors of my father’s atrocities.  The commander saved me from the gallows. I owe her my life.”

“Don’t we all?”  Anora and Nathaniel shared a smile filled sorrow that only the children of the two most infamous traitors in the land could understand. Then, Anora turned her attention to Lucia again, “I presume you did not travel to the capital to exchange pleasantries.”

“No.” She looked down, examining the grey stone floor beneath her, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.  It wasn’t, but she didn’t want to meet Anora’s piercing gaze. “I’m here to see Alistair.”

“Alistair is not in Denerim at the moment,” Anora explained, her eyes expressing sympathy that crackled in her voice.

“Oh.” There was no hiding the disappointment that overwhelmed Lucia. It was foolish of her to assume he would be there waiting for her when she arrived. Time had not frozen in her absence, and she should have known better than to get her hopes up.“Where is he?”

“He left for Highever yesterday morning.  It wasn’t to be a long trip, but he will not be returning for a few days,” Anora answered, quickly adding,“Of course, you and Nathaniel are welcome to stay in the palace in the meantime.”

“Thank you, your majesty.” Nathaniel bowed his head in the first sign of reverence Lucia had seen from him thus far.  They must have known one another as children. There was a long-standing, mutual respect in the air between them that was wonderful to see.

The queen ordered for servants to show the two to their rooms, and Lucia just sighed solemnly. The anxiety of the moment lingered unresolved and buzzing about in her head.Several days of waiting was going to feel like a lifetime.  

“Are you all right,” Nathaniel asked, placing a hand on her shoulder and drawing her to the present.

“No.” She shook her head, releasing tears that clung to her lashes. “No I’m not”. It was the first time she had been truly honest with herself since she left.

Nathaniel gave her a few pats on the shoulder, his typical demonstration of support and sympathy.  In the midst of her emotions Lucia turned and embraced him tightly, both arms around his waist, and sobbed into his chest.  He tensed, shocked by the abrupt contact, but eased and returned the hug. She would later demand that he never tell another soul about this moment, but for now she needed comfort and he was a friend.