#yes i use all lowercase fuck being professional

[weaselandfriends]

[cxc] so in my imagination cariscresco types in all lowercase, but how does sister type? proper punctuation always? capitalizes the first letter of each message but doesn't punctuate? also completely lowercase? for that matter how do harper and van der gramme type. this has been on my mind for a while

I actually frame Sister's dialogue as a textual representation of how she types. She uses a ton of short sentences, like so:

"If you're an amateur hour death fetishist you might say scalpels. Lasers. Like looking at a medical textbook. A fucking, diagram of human organs. Literal autist shit. Everything needing to be in its neat little compartment. Nah. Fuck that. Rip her to shreds. I want to see the body destroyed. Not unmade. Obliterated. Wild dogs is the perfect scenario."

This is meant to represent someone who presses Enter a lot when speaking in a chat room, with each sentence being its own line in the chat. She thinks more emotionally, and is ESL (less pronounced in text than speech), so she just gets her thoughts out as she has them, rapid-fire.

By contrast, I imagine Gramme is longwinded, writing out blocks of text whenever he's on one of his spiels, just overwhelming people with paragraphs.

Harper, being a professional documentation writer with little internet knowhow, is definitely doing the full punctuation, perfect capitalization thing. Probably leading her to sound passive aggressive whenever she responds with a short, declarative "Yes."

[dimenussy]

hiya,,what r ur discours3 opinions,, for ex,, tucut3,,,, ,,,BITHC ASS ANTI SHIPPERS, fuckin mogai, xenogenders, ace/aro spec and,,, ace xxxexclusion,,,, biphobic ass mspec sexualities, ,,,he/him lesbians,,,, bi men and ,,,women,,, sayin’,,, the,,,, f or D slur, genderfluidity and bigender,,,, cishet demisexuals(r th3y lgbt?) ,, nb l3sbians,,, shit like that,, what’s ur take,,,? also anythin else u think of. /gen /srs /nm

alright tucute/transmed: both sides have flaws, but i also think theres a lot of misunderstanding on both parts,, and that theres no reason for both of them to shit on other people,,,, i have met great and close friends from both sides as well! anti shippers: most antis i seen or met have dropped me for being pro ship,,, i think their ideology is harmful and ableist,, i empathize with wanting the internet to be a safe place and what not, but harassing other, innocent abuse victims or mentally ill people is not the way. mogai; im neutral on it, i think people should be able to decide their own identity without people policing it, xenogenders: same as above ace/aro aspec: valid,, i used to be super aphobic,, and i didnt even notice, but a friend of mine called me out on it and started to look into more information and talk to more ace/aro people and now i think they are amazing,, ace exclusion: i dont get it anymore, i used to think cishet ace/aro people were not lgbt,, but now i see that its not the case,, i support them mspec sexualities: same as mogai, if people have internalized biphobia because of it like many people say, they should find out on their own, and its not our right to get into the business on how a person decides to identify as, and i stand for solidarity,, not separation he/him lesbians: same as mogai bi men and women saying f/d slur: i never heard of this one. but i do think they can reclaim it. if they like their own gender then go for it, i guess,,, i dont know what more goes into it but at this point i dont really care as long as you dont use them in an insulting way. genderfluid/bigender/cishet demisexuals; yes, i think they are all lgbt nb gays/lesbians: i dont think people should be forced to use a label to define themselves, thats why i think its valid for people to call themselves gay/lesbians/trixic/toric and be nb. im a he/they, that doesnt mean my boyness goes away for using they/them pronouns lmao, maybe for society, but not for me. and i dont give a fuck about what society thinks about me, because i know what i think of myself i dont know what else,,, but i hope thats enough to get a grasp about what i think,,

[the-l-spacer]

Promise all you say is true - Chapter 2

(Ch 1) (ao3)

Summary: Lloyd wakes up one morning to discover that, on a whim, the Metaverse had decided to release him and Raven from the Lovers archetype they had been locked in for as long as either could remember.

In the process, however, reality became… just a little screwed up.

Now, Raven is gone, and in his place is David Adams. David Adams, who had never left Ashland, working middle-management at Justacorp. David Adams, who had never heard the anvils, never jumped off Warner's Peak.

But Lloyd remembers everything, and he makes it his personal quest to win back the love of his life.

...No matter how many 'strictly professional' coffee dates it took.

Chapter summary: Over carrot cake, the two hash some things out

Y’all… I seriously didn’t expect this scene to happen or get as long as it did but. Here we are. With this chapter, the setup for the fic is officially DONE and we can get into the stuff y’all came here for (aka Lloydven angst). In the meantime, enjoy Lloyd and Han getting in some awkward bonding time!

- 

“Feeling better?”

The man sat opposite her simply sighs. “Yes. Thank you, Han.”

Over a tray of tea, cakes and sweets (for Lloyd, his first meal of the day), the two go over, in painstaking detail, every narrative visited, every jaunt taken through the CU, every significant location in Raven’s life. As minutes, and then an hour ticks by, marked by the comings and goings of those around them (and the increasingly resigned expressions of the waitstaff as they drag out their meal as long as possible), they scrawl out possible places the missing Postie could be on a steadily depleting supply of napkins, provided generously by the small bakery in New Camden, a joint quickly becoming synonymous with Serious Talk Time.

When it comes to names and places, Han can’t be of much help, but that is to be expected, her having only known the man a scant year. Instead, she simply offers the obvious, locations Raven and Lloyd had spoken of the most around her; the first and second Playhouse, New Albion, even entertaining the idea that he was here, in this narrative.

“Impossible,” Lloyd insists for the second time, though Han notes that he’s sounding significantly less certain than before.

“How are you so sure?” Before Lloyd can respond, she quickly adds, “Waitwaitwait don’t tell me. The both of you have… a psychic link. From your weird wizard powers. Or something.”

“I remind you that you too have, as you so eloquently put it, weird wizard powers.” He replies, one hand spearing a forkful of carrot cake, the other forming air quotes. “But that aside, you’re not completely wrong.”

Han raises an eyebrow. “Huh. I was going out on a limb there. You two are seriously linked together?”

“That’s actually the other thing I have to talk through,” he says. “Have Ravey and I told you about the Lovers archetype yet?”

“Give me a second.” Han takes a long sip from her cup of Earl Grey, mentally sorting through everything her mentors-slash-great-grandparents had taught her about Posthumans and the Metaverse. “It’s… the thing where you and him are basically bound together, right? I thought that was metaphorical.”

Shaking his head, Lloyd says, “It’s very much not. After spending enough time in each others’ company -and back then, we had nothing but time to spare- we began embodying the Lovers archetype.

I shan’t bore you with the details, but you have the broad strokes of it. Essentially, we became irreversibly bound. As trite as it sounds, we had a sixth sense, of sorts, around the other. When we were apart, I would feel his absence like… a missing limb, so we always knew when the other was close by.”

Only half-listening to his explanation, Han lets Lloyd ramble. God knows he needed it. He was one of those people who absolutely had to talk through their problems, a tendency that annoyed her on any given day, except this one. Extenuating circumstances and all.

Huh. Deja vu.

Her mind wanders to the first time she had been here, it was just her and Raven back then, him having invited her out after the Singularity left New Albion. It really was a memory, a story for another time, but it had been surprisingly nice, even if her eyes were still red and puffy in a way that makeup just couldn’t conceal.

They had shared a slice of (what else) carrot cake, speaking of narratives and what she had learned of the art of finesse, and then, as they talked more, coping mechanisms, sacrifice, loss, and a rambling (but utterly sincere) apology from Raven.

It had ended with a hug, and granted, it was kind of awkward, Raven having to get up from the corner chair he was squeezed in to give her a half-embrace, as close as he could get to her side of the table (the bakery was as renowned for its carrot cake as it was infamous for its tight quarters). But Han still remembers the feeling of his arms around her shoulders, warm and almost reassuring.

And now he’s gone. Gone along with the rapport they were just starting to build after their disastrous first encounter. Just when she was finally beginning to see him as family.

The only questions on her mind are how and why.

She tunes back in as Lloyd finishes his explanation. “So you’re saying that because you’re locked into this archetype, if he was here, you’d know.”

What? She could multi-task just as good as anyone else!

Lloyd sighs tiredly. “Yes, but there’s the rub. I don’t think that him and I form the archetype any more.”

Well this raises more questions than answers. Still, Han pats his arm. “Drink your tea. You’ve been talking for way too long as is.”

She waves off Lloyd’s apologies over his loquaciousness, sweeping a hand as if swatting an imaginary fly, then realising this was a gesture she had ended up incorporating into her movements after seeing it time and time again from Raven.

Dammit. Even when absent he finds a way to worm into her head. The guy was just infectious like that. Is. Is infectious. She refuses to believe that he’s truly gone. Speaking of…

“If what you’re saying is true, I guess that answers the ‘why’ aspect of things, He’s gone because the Metaverse decided to release you from your archetype.”

Over the rim of his teacup, Lloyd’s mouth quirks into a half-smile, the first Han had seen from him all day. “You always find a way to make things sound so simple.”

“It’s why you keep me around,” Han jokes, feeling a responding grin spread across her face.

“Don’t put yourself down like that,” Lloyd says, leaning forward with sudden seriousness. “You do have a good head about you, and I… admire the speed at which you’re picking up your Posthuman abilities. You successfully mastered in a matter of months what took me decades to learn, and-”

Han can’t help the rush of pride that comes at his words. Lloyd was always the more critical of her two mentors, and nigh impossible to please (she was still rather sore over his snide comment over the tunnels). She almost misses what he says next, but catches it just in time.

“-and you’re a perfectly charming person. I had my doubts before, but it’s clear that you’re Isabel’s kin. You remind me a lot of her, you know.”

Han softens. “I had a great teacher. Two great teachers, as a matter of fact.”

He winces at the mention of his missing boyfriend, and she impulsively reaches a hand across the table to grasp his. “We’ll find the other one together, okay?”

Lloyd grips her hand, giving a tight nod, steely resolve in his eyes.

“Okay.”

- 

They exit the bakery as afternoon fades into evening, the gas lamps that line the pavements igniting one by one, illuminating the streets of New Camden.

“Just to go over the plan one more time,” Han says, “I’ll stay here and try to scout him out. If he isn’t here, I’ll try New Albion. Then, where the First Playhouse used to be.”

Lloyd hums in affirmation. “I’ll keep you updated on my whereabouts as well. If you find him, let me know.”

“Of course, and you do the same.”

“I will. Keep safe.”

“You too.”

They stand there, then, regarding each other in the lamplight. Finally, Lloyd reaches out a hand, as if to administer a firm handshake.

Nah, fuck that.

Han bypasses the hand, and wraps Lloyd in a tight hug. After a moment, she feels his arms wrap around her too.

“It’s going to be okay,” Han says once they break apart, gripping him by the shoulders.

“I… can’t thank you enough for your help, Han. I’ll make it up to you if- once he’s found.”

“Psssh, that’s not necessary,” she retorts with a smirk, already walking in the opposite direction. “Your acknowledgement that I’m more talented than you is more than enough payment.”

Lloyd bristles. “I was being nice. Don’t push it.”

“You said it! It’s been set in stone! I’m gonna tell everyone I know about this!” She calls over her shoulder, disappearing into an alleyway.

Determined not to let her have the last word, Lloyd yells, "Only if you admit to everyone that I'm a great teacher!”

"Never! Also, screw you!"

Shaking his head and chuckling, Lloyd begins making preparations of his own, mentally steeling himself to make the narrative jump, and going down the mental list of places he was going to search.

The hunt would begin in the Collective Unconscious. Then, the different narratives the lovers (now lowercase) had frequented. Finally, once all other options had been exhausted, he would return to Ravey’s home narrative. The one place the two had never been to, at the insistence of his missing half.

Ashland.

[redlemonz]

Day #28

Four weeks since sick-day Monday. A whole February's worth of a month, and it's the 21st too - my favourite new unlucky number. I can already tell it's going to be an absolutely splendid day and return to the workplace. My thoughts, along with time as my usual brain's archenemy, instantly strike down the usual Monday morning anxiety upon me. Shivers spark inside my spine, though I am not actually cold. If only I could escape this and sleep another horrendous morning away. Unfortunately I've already used up my quota for a sick day this month as at my last sick-day Friday, and am feeing sane enough to realise that my mind needs to be focused on some work anyway to divert its attention temporarily. It's alright too, because I'm pretty much use to the anxiety by now as it's mostly under my control these days (or so I like to tell myself anyway). It also helps that she's actually contributed to reducing it greatly through making her presence apparent in my life. Another smiley face, exchange of emojis and so on, via digital communication last night is more than sufficient to ensure my stability is in tact. Not that I'm relying on her at all or anything, it just so happens that she can naturally provide such a positive effect upon my life without even really trying. I'm quite over this empty feeling though - just getting by, living each day with a lack of physical emotion being exhibited upon my face for the majority. My expressionless gaze which stares back at me in the mirror displays just that - it doesn't really give a shit about all that much anymore. Everything's kind of just blankly existing around me, and here I am, dead inside and floating by as an insignificant spec of dust. So suck me into this equally empty vacuum and be done with it already. Day 28 - Bad company "I don't want to see you" are the words which continue to echo over and over again in my head, from our conversation four nights ago. Even though we're seemingly on good terms, can talk regularly and exchange photos now and then, hearing those words on repeat are still simply painful and can bring a tear to anyone's eyes. I know where she's coming from obviously, and that it's probably not ideal given the circumstances to see each other, but that general statement can regardlessly be scarring and be lodged against my insecurities sadly - because I allow it to. I can't help that it makes me feel so unwanted and minuscule, as if I don't even matter. I can't stop thinking about it either, because I want to be able to confirm to myself that I am indeed not worth the time and effort as is the belief that's been preached into me countlessly. Driving this knife into myself deeper helps me prepare for whatever future disappointments await around the corner in my life, reaffirming the pessimistic elements in my life that I extensively lost when I was with her (yup, my negativity during us being together was surprisingly a growing improvement). It sucks, but it is intrinsic that I must attain back that greater sense of negativity as otherwise my vulnerability factor is enlarged, by my own flawed mechanisms. That instrument to my own destruction being that my mind believes for some whacky reason (although true) that there is definitely some correlation between one's level of positivity and their general expectations. Anyway, what I'm really trying to get at is that work sucked. I spoke little words on a verbal scale, but my fingers on a keyboard spoke volumes on the digital screen of success. The more stuff that's on there, the more work you're doing obviously, right? Nevertheless, I got swamped with every task on a bloody Monday that supposedly just so happened to be urgent, even though they don't bother using the damn red exclamation mark in the emails to attribute it accordingly so. Yes, I'm finding any excuse to sprinkle my salt (careful with your mind) towards work today because it wasn't actually all too bad when it comes down to it, but once in a while it's nice to blame something else for my own catastrophic internal suffering. Man, what really got me was another regrettable memory I was itching to forget, but of course, fate always finds a way to remind me of the asshole I am. One of three was thrilling us with his weekend meal escapades (yes, food is stimulating stuff - quite literally if I may add, energy homeostasis and stuff. Do I even science? Fuck yeah.. on rare occasions). He went to this exorbitant buffet restaurant with his family and friends, situated in a hotel, named after simply a number which corresponds to the various cuisine-kitchens on offer. The beginning of that story was more than sufficient in sparking another moment of repentance, as she accompanied my hand there one night for a special dinner date I had booked (which she even dressed up and looked absolutely stunning for), and at which I behaved as an impolite and rude bastard. It's sad too really, because I would tend to pride myself upon chivalry, out of the limited bucket of anything that I even have to offer at all. To be completely straightforward about my sins (and goodness I hate admitting this), I put the food before her. As soon as I'd be done finishing a plate, I wouldn't hesitate to simply get up and proceed towards another serving whilst she sat and ate her meal on her own.. on multiple occasions. I ruined another nice evening for us, through my own selfishness and lack of thought about her in that moment. What's worse is that it was our unofficial anniversary (I booked the reservation in as our anniversary with the belief we may likely attain some freebies, and huzzah - gourmet chocolates.. would've been a proud moment if I wasn't such a dick that night). I was just an unforgivably bad date as a result, and offered poor company to this beautiful Princess (excuse me - Queen) whom I took for granted, on a dynamically visible level. Another apology which shouldn't have ever been required if I could have just had basic common courtesy for the woman I love. At least I was fortunate enough to receive another chance during one of the occasions in which I visited her down in snowy mountain town. We attended another buffet, named after that historically famous Mongolian warlord, where I remembered my faults and attempted to redeem myself - and hey, what a surprise, it was a really enjoyable night in each other's company. Might I add that I happen to have had a corresponding song, with regards to said historically famous Mongolian warlord, which has been stuck in my head the whole day courtesy of her. Might I also say, that she video snapped me herself singing along to the radio on the way to, and from work today, which brought a radiant glow of blissful happiness to my maniacal Monday. Three different friends reached out to me today - what a wonderful coincidence. Blondie, the mastermind and I don't think I've mentioned my lovely, but unofficial ditzy sibling who renamed her last name on social media to match my fake last name for over a year (because said last name is a loveable Turkish dip that resembles my actual last name when sounded aloud.. on a somewhat loose tangent, and is also variably dependant upon one's accent). Anyway, all three were sweetly inviting me to various future events - some that I can dodge when the time comes, and one I can decline straightaway. Not doing a great job at not being a dick, clearly, but trust me when I can reaffirm that I'm still not quite ready to be the negative nick of the group (that 'n' deserves to remain a lowercase, because it's not worthy of being labelled proper). My company will purely not even be that of adequate quality, and it's subsequently better for others that it's avoided as a result. So of course I had limited responses to each, and abruptly wished them a nice week ahead, because I still can't commit myself to a conversation when my primary sensations are emptiness and heartbreak. Also my dippy sibling, better known as The Colonel (pronounced Call-oh-nell according to her, when ordering fried chicken) asked me if I'm free on the weekend to assist her with purchasing her first vehicle, and insisted that I could provide some useful "manly input". I have to acknowledge that she is one of the sweetest and most treasured people in my life, before I can simply acclaim, what the fuck? My track record with owning cars is pretty well known among my inner circles. I've wasted over $10,000 (which would be much greater than my current savings account) on two European cars which didn't even last a year - combined. I've then decided after those bad decisions that purchasing brand new would be the genius alternative, so there's another $26,000 not well spent on which I'm finally finishing repayments upon by the end of this year. My street smart knowledge of cars may as well be the equivalent to some douchebag who sticks black stripes unevenly upon only the front hood of his red car to make it go faster. Oh wait, I am that idiotic douchebag. Nevertheless, I can't afford to have any contributing role in assisting the Colonel with her purchase as anything I say or do can and will be used against me in the court of my mind. So if something were to go wrong or be out of order, it's common knowledge by now to gather where the unforgiving blame, failure and consequent punishment would be suffered. I can't risk that on my lack of a conscience, therefore I kindly apologised and referred her to other potential professionals in the matter. Even my better half knew that I was down right stupid when it came to cars. She's got a hatchback as old as I essentially am, and it's probably still the more efficient and universally favourable option between our two cars. That's because she actually has the logic I seem to perpetually lack.. damn, I'm going to fail without her. All I want now is to be able to sit beside her in that car again, holding her hand (when we're not at risk of crashing towards our deaths), or resting mine lovingly upon her thigh, as we sing along to the stereo as the beautiful lunatics we are together.