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calder · 6 months

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Released in 2010, Obsidian Entertainment's Fallout: New Vegas actively concerns itself with the realities of gay existence, and is widely recognized as a noteworthy work of queer science fiction. New Vegas extensively examines social attitudes towards homosexuality among the game's major factions, and primarily conveys this lore through gay and bisexual characters describing their own experiences. It also allowed the player to mechanically set the Courier's sexual orientation. By taking both available perks, the player character can be bisexual. By choosing neither, the player can opt out of seeing flirtatious dialogue options.

Uniquely, Fallout: New Vegas explores homosexuality in the context of wasteland societies, and touches upon related issues. The core theme of New Vegas is that the desire to recreate the past is driven by irrational nostalgia, and any endeavor to manifest past glory is dangerous and doomed. The social issue of homophobia is used as a demonstrative example. The resurrection of corporate and military power structures presents new avenues for Old World problems such as institutional homophobia to reemerge. One of the many issues that divide the New California Republic and Caesar's Legion is the latter's open persecution of gay people. The NCR is described as tolerant and even accepting of same-sex relationships, though acceptance tends to fall off the further one moves away from the developed, urbanized core of New California. In recent years, the Republic's rapid economic transformation has led to an unforeseen erosion of the humanitarian ideals which it was founded to serve. In practice, to recreate America was to take on its shortcomings and its sins. As subsistence scavenging has dried up, the people of the NCR increasingly turn to wage labor, entrepreneurial venture, or military enlistment to keep their families fed. Meanwhile, their government enacts morally corrosive imperialism (narrative verbiage), their dominion expanding indefinitely as their infrastructure crumbles from within. This has led to a profit-based imperial monoculture which must conquer, consume, and coerce to perpetuate. As personal politics and service labor grow in importance, people find themselves more inclined to present as "normal" in the interest of financial stability and political expedience. A loading screen visualizes this culture of artificial social normalcy: the portrait of President Aradesh on the NCR 5$ bill neglects to depict his unibrow, earring, and facial scarification, overall portraying the once-chieftain so cleanly-cut as to be unrecognizable at first glance. He also appears to be wearing a collared shirt or suit as opposed to the robe he wore in Fallout.

In the Legion, Caesar has mandated that every legionnaire take a wife and produce children, citing high infant mortality rates and the constant need for soldiers, and going as far as instituting child quotas. He treats human beings as a resource to be exploited for war. Ostensibly in this aim homosexuality has been declared a capital offense punishable by death. Historically, routine demonstrations of violence towards women and gay people are a deliberate feature of fascist societies, the only logical cultural conclusion of a government devoted entirely to war and control. In Forlorn Hope letter 9, an NCR soldier wrote wrote the following to his boyfriend:

Dearest Andrew, Writing this seems pretty morbid, but tomorrow we march into the no man's land between our camp and Nelson, which is crawling with Legion. The Major insisted I write this damn "if you get this, I'm dead" letter so here it is. What a crock. I have the luck of the devil and your love on my side, so I'll be home soon. Keep the porch light on for me. We'll party in New Vegas when I get back. I love you. —Devin

Devin believed he would prevail over the Legion because his love would keep him safe. He was found dying or dead on the battlefield, the letter was found on his body. In a post-release patch, the injured soldiers were removed from the battlefield for performance reasons, and never re-implemented. Driven largely in reaction to the Legion's hyper-masculine posturing and misogyny, rumors persist across the Mojave that gay male relationships are not only common within the Legion, but condoned. These rumors are repeated commonly in NCR society. A closeted NCR Major mentions that the Legion is "a little more... forgiving" about close male "friendships," speaking in a hushed tone to avoid suspicion. At the same outpost, the player can encounter Cass, a bisexual civilian woman. She may flirt with a male Courier, who may imply they are gay, prompting her to imply gay men are more common in the Legion. Even as gay men fight and die in the name of love under his command, NCR General Oliver may remark to Courier Six at the Second Battle of Hoover Dam: "If you think after all that's happened, I'm going to grab my ankles and take it like the Legion..."

This writing pertains to institutionalized homophobia which manifests in practice though power structures and social interactions without being written into law. Simply put, in his derogatory remark, the general expresses to his army that military surrender is gay, much like their gay enemy. From the brevity and bluntness of this remark, it's clear that this sentiment is already well understood among his ranks. Logically, to project strength in the eyes of such a leader, one might also project homophobia by scrutinizing and harassing one's peers and subordinates. In this atmosphere, the expression of homophobia is not only normalized, but materially incentivized. For the ambitious, it becomes a tool, and a way of casting shame upon rivals. For the closeted, homophobia becomes a survival tactic, hoping to throw scrutiny off oneself. This is why Major Knight is immediately frightened when a male Courier flirts with him. He is so profoundly alienated that he romanticizes life as a gay man under the Legion. The Legion punish homosexuality with death, and yet Knight characterizes them as more "forgiving" than the NCR. Through these apparently disparate events, the audience can trace how a distorted perception of gay people emerges among insecure men in a military environment, and subsequently becomes ingrained in the corresponding civilian culture. At the 188 Trading Post, a lesbian from the Brotherhood of Steel named Veronica also wryly remarks that she believes legionaries have gay sex about as often as straight sex. She also notes that this only applies to men, as women have no rights whatsoever in Legion society. In this aside, she conveys a pre-existing frustration with lesbophobic social norms. Veronica also mentions that the people of her bunker would rather she remain on the surface. The Mojave Brotherhood of Steel has no official policy prohibiting homosexuality, but an implicit attitude among its dominant members that their limited numbers require everyone to have children to avoid extinction. Numerically, this may seem logical on the surface, given their reluctance to recruit outsiders. However, given their tiny population, this is an ineffective countermeasure, as they do not have nearly enough members to maintain genetic diversity for more than a few generations. This approach is not universally supported by all family units within the Brotherhood, but every individual is ultimately at the mercy of the elder. Veronica was in a lesbian relationship, but they were quietly separated by Elder Elijah, due to the dominant culture of enforcing heterosexual pairing among their population.

Caesar's law has not ended homosexuality within his domain. Despite the obvious risks, some legionaries have continued to pursue relationships behind closed doors, especially given their access to slaves. So long as members complete their societal obligations and fulfill the child quotas, they are able to pursue romance with other men in secret. Homosexual relationships in the faction are noted as being relatively equal compared to the average Legion husband and wife, in a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" sort of open secret policy. Gay legionaries must always make sure to keep their activities hidden. A centurion was once almost caught fraternizing with the teenage boy he had chosen to tend his tent. Despite previous "romantic" intentions, he quickly resolved to dispose of the slave to dispel suspicion. Had they been caught together, the centurion would have been charged with homosexuality and sentenced to death. This story is only known because the enslaved young man, Jimmy, managed to escape execution. Further illustrating the cruelty intrinsic to Legion governance, it's stated that homosexuality was the crime, and not the rape of a young slave; in fact, it seems Jimmy was forced to contribute to the child quota despite being a gay teenager, and the experience left him traumatized. He has resolved to never have sex with another woman, as the very notion triggers memories which fill him with disgust, and (in his own words) makes him feel like a slave all over again. The Strip is indifferent to gay people, viewing them as another opportunity to make caps. Both the Gomorrah and the Atomic Wrangler are interested in maximizing profits, and their prostitution services cater to clients regardless of their orientation. The openly gay Jimmy works at nearby Casa Madrid, but there is some tension among his peers due to his co-worker Maude's blatant homophobia. She supposes he's "okay, for one of those," and if propositioned by a female Courier, Maude will direct them to Sweetie for such "perverted" services. Pretty Sarah must regularly intervene to keep the peace among her staff.

The Followers of the Apocalypse, well-read punks who seek to embody healing through anarchistic values, are not concerned with gender. Most are openly and casually sexually active. Upon meeting Courier Six, Arcade Gannon offhandedly makes his gayness known, unprompted. The audience must face the fact that Arcade's apprehension of the Legion is far from abstract; under Legion law, he would be put to death. One possible ending gives further insight into Caesar's hypocrisy: should the player sell Arcade into slavery and leave Caesar alive, he will keep Arcade as a personal physician and philosophical advisor. They intellectually spar at length, and Caesar grows singularly fond of him. Accordingly, Arcade imitates the historic suicide of Cato the Younger by disemboweling himself. The Legion's remaining medics attempted to save his life, but none were Arcade's equal. Caesar understood his doctor's final gesture of contempt, and mourned him for months.

New Vegas ventures further into themes of healing from the trauma of sexual violence, from the perspective of a lesbian character. Corporal Betsy, an NCR sharpshooter, is a rape survivor, and suffers with PTSD from the incident. Her unprocessed trauma has manifested as a maladaptive tendency to aggressively and explicitly proposition the women she encounters, in an effort to reassert a sense of control. This defensive hypersexual impulse has negatively impacted her ability to connect with other women. A male superior officer notes that her behavior is inappropriate for anyone of her stature, but abstains from disciplining her out of sincere concern for her mental health. The Courier can help her begin to recognize these problems, and convince her to seek treatment from Doctor Usanagi at the New Vegas medical clinic, which proves helpful to her as she processes and heals from her trauma.

In Old World Blues, the Think Tank are five floating brains in jars who express themselves by waving robotic arms bearing screens depicting facial features. Before the War, they were federal scientists who committed crimes against humanity in the name of weapons development. Each is stuck in some sort of neuro-bionic feedback loop which prevents them from moving forward with their projects, mentally binding them to their central laboratory. Walking through their homes at Higgs Village, it's clear each was deeply neurotic before they were transformed into floating brains. Now without bodies, they attempt to maintain the illusion that they are exempt from sexuality as purely mental beings, but each displays obvious interest in the human form. They have codified this shaming with the term "formography." Most of the men are obsessively defensive over their complete disinterest in penises, which they talk about constantly. However, the shameless Dr. Dala shows overwhelming interest in observing and recording any and all human functions. Already androgynous in her pre-War life, Dala has taken to self-identifying as a "gender neutral entity" (though she is not known to use they/them pronouns). Regardless of the Courier's gender, they may coquettishly scratch themselves, clear their throat, and stretch in front of Dala until her biomed gel decoagulates. Dr. 8 also responds positively to graphic masturbation advice from Couriers of either gender. The X-8 research facility is ostensibly a massive immersive shrine to Doctor Borous's hatred of Richie "Ball-Lover" Marcus, a long-dead child who bullied Borous centuries ago. He also clings to his resentment of one Betsy Bright, who refused to attend a dance with him, supposedly so she could "go smoke with RICHIE MARCUS." Clearly arrested in development, Borous has literally built a temple to the fantasy of torturing his adolescent romantic rival and feeding him to dogs. His frozen, static characterization of the jock Richie Marcus as a "pinko-commie" who "likes balls" reflects the shallowness, pettiness, and overall misanthropy underlying his patriotic identity. It remains apparent throughout Old World Blues that the Think Tank are all chronically sexually repressed, which is inseparable from the values of the violent and judgmental pre-War culture which created them. With time and isolation, this ingrained repression has manifested as various intense and deranged psychosexual behaviors, including rage-fueled homophobia, voyeurism, and the obsessive performance of puritanical pretense.

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“Although I’ve been out for a very long time, I made a conscious effort to be out with relation to this project, as I wanted to be visible as a lesbian in the game industry. New Vegas itself is, I think, one of (if not the) best games out there in how we treat homosexuality – and all of that is very intentional.”

“If my work on FNV, if my being out has helped even one gay person, then I have succeeded.” — Tess “Obsidian’s Gay Cowgirl” Treadwell

____

written (with help from other editors) for fallout.fandom.com/wiki/LGBT_representation_in_the_Fallout_series criticism welcome

#fnv

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kabartangsel · 2 years

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Sinar Mas Land Luncurkan Urban Gateway Fund

Sinar Mas Land meluncurkan Urban Gateway Fund (UGF), sebuah dana tahap awal yang akan berinvestasi di perusahaan rintisan (startup) yang bergerak di pengembangan tata kota. Sinar Mas Land menjalankan UGF dalam kerja sama strategis dengan East Ventures, Redbadge Pacific dan Prasetia Dwidharma untuk mendukung startup yang berfokus pada sektor kehidupan urban dan proptech. Sebuah pengembang asal…

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#Bisnis #East Ventures #Michael Widjaja #Prasetia Dwidharma #Redbadge Pacific #sinar mas land #UGF #Urban Gateway Fund

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feminist-space · 2 years

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"Yes, you read that right: Chicago is spending $33 million to build fake housing and commercial buildings in an overpoliced community that could really use their actual, real-life equivalents. No Cop Academy organizer Destiny Ball laid it out plainly to Block Club Chicago: “To find out that they’re building a scenario village when there are thousands of people, homeless, with nowhere to go … it’s sickening.”

Architecture sometimes lays bare the contradictions in urban life, but rarely does it do so this explicitly, if not mockingly. A first phase of the training campus is nearly done, and the “tactical village” will begin construction this summer. The campus, which rises on the site of a former rail yard, will replace seven facilities currently in use. The second phase will be built by a joint venture of Berglund and Brown & Momen. The City’s website lists the design architect as DLR Group. The company recently published a blog post in which Andrew Cupples defended its work on juvenile justice systems, claiming that DLR remains “undeterred in the belief that design excellence contributes to better outcomes for youth who enter the justice system.”

“Justice system,” to this critic, reads as a remarkable euphemism for a place to detain children. Incredibly, the City lists the project as part of Mayor Lori Lightfoot’s INVEST South/West platform which seeks to direct about $1.4 billion in funding to previously underdeveloped neighborhoods.

The City neglects its citizens—especially its Black and Brown ones—before policing them with militarized tactics. This is, after all, the police force that was found to be using “black site” tactics—essentially kidnapping and torturing civilians at Homan Square, a property it owned on the West Side—until an exposé in The Guardian in 2015 spelled its demise. This is the police force whose officers shot 13-year-old Adam Toledo to death in 2021 and paralyzed another unidentified 13-year-old boy just a few weeks ago. These are the law enforcement officers who have made arrests in only 6 percent of rape cases. Per Alex Vitale’s book The End of Policing, this is the police department that arrested 8,000 Black schoolchildren, more than half of whom were under 15, in 2013–14 alone.

Chicago suppresses funding for housing, schools, environmental remediation, public health, and transit, but it generously funds cops. This is not only ineffective, given the statistics and reality of police brutality, but immoral.

Any architect who participates in realizing the carceral program of police surveillance and terror is complicit. Architects often characterize their work as impartial, but the reality is that the form of the built environment is regularly weaponized by those in power. Architects are moral actors who have the agency—individually, but especially collectively—to see a project like this and decline to participate.

At times, activism comes in the form of saying yes to certain advances, but in this case it more powerfully comes in saying no. This denial of service can come in the form of whistleblowing to journalists, organizing political resistance among your peers, or finding a new job. After George Floyd’s murder in 2020, when Michael Ford (the hip-hop architect) learned that his then employer SmithGroup was to work on civic buildings with holding facilities, he left. In the fall of 2020, AIA New York attempted to discourage members from working on spaces of incarceration. The work of Colloqate explicitly demands the end of architects working on behalf of police and provides alternative solutions for reallocating police funds toward endeavors rooted in community building and racial justice.

Architecture exists at the all-important nexus where political ambition is given form. Resistance to terrible carceral projects from architectural firms matters—if no one draws the plans, the efforts stall. Sure, someone else can do it, but the broad systemic woes of capitalism don’t excuse us—mere individuals—from living ethical lives. It is unethical to work on a project that will be used to oppress and terrify Chicagoans, just as it is a project of criticism to be explicit about architecture’s role in surveillance, police expansion, and, by extension, urban policies that govern by force, not by support. So, to the leaders of architecture offices who are currently overseeing construction documents for a fake strip club in western Chicago, I see you. The architecture world sees you. You can and should do better than this."

-Kate Wagner is an architecture critic and a journalist.

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coulsart · 2 months

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About the Unknown

I have a theory. A game theory. And we're going to ignore the fact that delving into this would put me on the Unknown's shit list IMMEDIATELY. It’s fine.

Disclaimer: I do not know what’s canon, and they kept it intentionally vague. Everyone’s valid to have their head canons and this is just the explanation my brain conjured up.

"The Unknown was believed to be a mysterious evil so heinous that investigating it almost immediately invited death. At least that was how the story went. And there were many stories. One story was of a woman in Greenville who disappeared without a trace on stage in front of a room full of witnesses. Her friend disappeared weeks later while trying to investigate what happened. The police were stumped. They had no clues or leads, and that mystery created the perfect storm for amplifying and spreading an urban legend." An excerpt from the very beginning of the official lore page

I want to focus on a few key words here. It was believed to be heinously evil. There were stories about disappearances. Said mysterious stories spread and amplified the urban legend.

The Unknown gains power from people's beliefs and thoughts about it. Not too unlike Pennywise from 'IT'. But there's a catch.

People theorize that it might be an alien, a curse, a cult-created abomination, or just a really elusive serial killer... but it is all of those things. Because people believe that it is.

It doesn't have control over what it is. It's a horrible hodge-podge monstrosity of many things, seemingly mashed and twisted together violently. It likely started as something completely different, or nothing at all. Maybe a vague presence that only observed. But people could feel the presence. And while neither good nor evil, the peoples' minds conjured up visions, explanations of what it might be. Some imagined it to be a man lurking in the shadows. Watching and stalking them. And so the Unknown's body began to form. First as a man. Even still, with this new body, it was inherently off. Uncanny from the start. The Unknown was at its core so far removed from humanity that it still could not pass as one of us. So it would linger in the forest, only venturing to the threshold between town and woods.

Maybe an unfortunate camper happened upon it at night. This shadow in the dark, distinctly the shape of a man. But what does one think first, encountering a strange man in the dead of night? All alone and isolated in the deep woods?

"He's going to kill me with a knife, or an ax!"

And so it did. Because they believed it would.

It only snowballed from there, after the body was found, only a few paces away from their untouched tent. There was no evidence left. No DNA, no footprints to follow. Just a bloodied body, with a skull cloven almost completely in twain; by what was suspected to be an ax. So the theories began.

No one could explain the lack of evidence left behind. It was too perfect, too efficient. And what were the chances of a normal man doing such damage in only a single swing?

More murders followed. At first, people started disappearing, their bodies later being found in the woods, not far from the first victim. They grew increasingly more mangled, to the point that authorities began to question whether it was done by a man, or an animal.

The people became afraid. Paranoid that this insane ax murderer would tire of the woods and enter their homes at night, while they were resting peacefully in bed. The fears were beginning to surpass that of just a serial killer. The Unknown was beginning to become more of a boogeyman figure to them. No human man could have committed such gruesome killings.

People began to disappear from their homes at night. Then the streets. Then the cafe and theater. Then... sometimes in broad daylight. Its territory only grew. Its abilities more and more vast and unpredictable. The theories only escalated... and throughout its rampage, the Unknown grew increasingly monstrous. Its humanoid body twisted and contorted to fit the peoples' beliefs. But nothing was erased - only added on. Which is why it existed in the horrific state that it did.

A body can only fit so much substance inside without tearing itself apart. Without becoming an deformed, unstable, and agonizing vessel to pilot and exist in.

Human beings did this to it. Human beings made what it was. They assumed the worst of it, and it became that.

So naturally, it became hateful and bitter. It loathes humans. They did this. It lives in constant agony and isolation because of them... only for the crime of observing and existing in their vicinity. That's why it killed the ones who dive deeper into its existence and theorize about what it is. They kept making it worse. Inflicting more pain upon it and twisting its body further and further.

It mirrors humans' own words to them. Snippets of conversation, pleas for help. It does not truly have its own voice. It only has what others have spoken about it, and around it.

But its feelings towards human beings are clear, based on its words. Especially in its memento mori. "The terror. The horror. Terribly frightening, isn't it." The way it parrots their words in this case almost seems vindictive and sarcastic. These are all things that human beings have said about it.

Thought outside of what it's been made into became increasingly difficult. Yet, somehow, the Unknown is vaguely aware of this fact: it could have been spared this horrific existence, had human beings chosen differently.

And for the Unknown, it only got worse when the Entity stole it away. It begged and pleaded for help - ironically, seeking it from that which it loathed most. A human being. It was torn from our world and plunged into the never ending loop that are Her trials. All for the sake of feeding Her appetite for suffering and torment. And it isn't only at the survivors' expense. It is at the expense of the Unknown as well. It suffers just as much as they... if not more. They at least have companions to rely on - with varying results, of course. It has nobody.

All hope for it healing is lost. The survivors have no reason not to think it a ruthless, horrific monster. And in turn, it has no reason not to hate and slaughter them.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

#couls art #theory #dbd #dead by daylight #the unknown #the unknown dbd #body horror #horror #gore #death mention #death #tw #long post #TRAGIC MONSTER IS MY SAUCE OK #IM REALLY PROUD OF THIS #also the pics are glazed and nightshaded so i hope they dont look too weird #itd be kewl if the devs saw this

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bratzforchris · 3 months

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Vampire-J.G. ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

Summary: A night exploring a haunted mansion with your best friend turns into you meeting your paranormal lover

Pairing: Vampire!Johnnie x human (feminine)!reader

Warnings: Horror/scary themes, blood, mentions of werewolf!Jake x Tara

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: HIIII :) ya girl has been on a writing kick lately and this idea struck me late last night! Let me know if you'd like a part 2 or if you want me to expand more on werewolf!Jake<3

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*

“Do you wanna do something fun?” Tara asked you, looking up from her phone.

You two were simply lying in your dorm on a Friday night, scrolling through your separate social media. In a rare occurrence, there were no parties going on in your college town, so you two had decided to have a quiet night in. That is, until your best friend looked at you with a gleam in her eye and asked her question.

“Like what?” You rolled onto your side, propping yourself on your elbow.

“Well…” she started, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. “What if we went to Harbordale Manor?”

Harbordale Manor was notorious in the town. It was an old, Gothic mansion that was situated rather deep in the woods that skirted the town’s edge. Legend had it that the family that had lived there in the early 1900s had died in a rather gruesome murder and that some of their souls still haunted the house today. You didn’t quite believe that part, mostly because vampires were not real and secondly because no one had been brave enough to actually venture all the way inside the house in the college’s history.

“You’re kidding, Tar,” You snorted. “What are we gonna do? Go out there and make it to the gates just to say we went? Like literally everyone else?”

Your best friend shook her head, thick, black locks of hair falling down her shoulders. “No. I want to see if the vampire thing is real. I haven’t gotten laid in ages. I need the Edward fantasy to come to life.”

You rolled your eyes at your best friend antics, but pulled yourself out of bed, throwing on a flannel and your Converse. “Well, are you coming or not?”

Tara scrambled down from her bed, pulling on her shoes and grabbing her backpack and a flashlight. Luckily, the residence hall was nearly empty. It seemed like most of the inhabitants and even the RA had decided to have an early, quiet night, which worked in your favor. People would definitely want to join the two of you for the shock factor if they knew where you were going.

The walk to the edge of the woods was quick and easy. The few students you two had passed on the street paid you no mind, too caught up in their own lives. The forest loomed in front of you, dark and twisted with the sound of animals and other creatures rustling underfoot.

“This is it,” Tara hummed, flicking on the flashlight. “No turning back now.”

“If we get killed or die, it’s your fault.” You joked, nudging her shoulder.

You had never been in the woods at night, and because of that, your stomach rumbled with unease. You knew everything you had heard were urban legends, myths, and stories, but that didn’t stop your heart from pounding every time a twig snapped. You and Tara had walked about 800 feet before her flashlight glinted across rusted metal. Shining it more thoroughly, you saw the wrought iron gates that stood before the stone mansion, held up by stone columns. ‘HDM’ was somehow strategically twisted into the bars, letting you know that whoever had once lived here was both regal and wealthy. Whatever path had once led to the house was long gone, and the only trace that people had been out here any time recently were the scattered beer cans.

“How the fuck are we-” Tara didn’t have time to finish her sentence before you started climbing the gates. “That’s one way to do it, I guess.”

“Don’t be a pussy!” You giggled, landing with a thud! on the other side of the gates.

Tara rolled her eyes, following your path and quickly landing beside you. “Don’t forget this was my idea. I need that vampire boy.”

“Vampires are skinny, Tara,” You laughed. “Remember when you told that guy you wouldn’t go out with him because he only went to the gym three times a week?”

“Yes, well.” she huffed but blushed.

You two walked closer to the manor, beaming the flashlight over the pure wealth. The mansion was a good three stories high, made completely of smooth, gray stones. The roof was of a black metal that sloped into sharp points that met gargoyles above the high-arched front door. Everything about the house screamed classic, Victorian-era Gothic. The huge, black front door had an enormous silver knocker that looked eerily similar to a human skull. The door handle was the same silver as the knocker and was in the shape of a bloodied dagger.

“Damn,” Tara said. “The owner’s must’ve been hardcore Goth.”

You tried the door handle, only for it to swing right open. The years of decay on the house must’ve loosened the locks. You both stepped inside, examining the home. Despite falling into disrepair, the house was beautiful and quite literally clean. It had rich, black and white wallpaper with scalloped designs and a plush, blood-red carpet. The entryway swung into a huge foyer and ballroom, with a spiral staircase and enormous, crystal chandelier.

“This is beautiful.” You murmured, twirling around the room in awe.

Tara grabbed a silver candelabra off a circular table that was shoved into the corner, examining its white, wax sticks. “Think they’ll light?” she asked, pulling matches out of her backpack.

“Worth a shot.” You nodded, going around the room and touching various things like paintings and the old books.

Surprisingly, Tara’s candles lit, which cast the room in a fiery, orange glow. The ballroom was just as pretty as the entryway, with enough room for dancing, as well as some chairs and tables for eating and drinking. Everything was decorated with fine china, silver, and crystal that all stayed with the Gothic look. What truly caught your eye, though, was the fireplace area. The large maroon and black chairs had been sculpted expertly and they sat around a black, wooden coffee table and an enormous silver fireplace. The piece that tied it all together, though, was the portrait that hung above the fireplace.

It was of a young man with long, black hair and piercing blue eyes. He had on a gorgeous black suit that appeared to be from the Victorian era as well. His skin was milky and smooth in the painting and he had a realistic somber look spread across his plump lips and strong nose. Although you had to stand on your tiptoes to read it, the tarnished plaque read ‘Johnnie Guilbert 1901’. The painting had been made shortly before the murder had happened here, which made you wonder if the man was the house’s owner.

“He’s hot.” Tara nodded, coming to stand beside you.

“And like, one hundred and forty years old and, y’know, dead.” You snorted.

You two moved on, getting ready to go up the staircase when a sharp pain zinged up your leg. You looked down to see that a shattered piece of china had fallen to the ground and cut your leg, the blood starting to trickle down your shin.

It all happened so quickly. One moment you were looking at your cut, and the next, Tara had been thrown to the side and you were wrapped in a pair of cold arms. And naturally, you struggled as your best friend looked on in horror.

“Let me go!” You wailed, wriggling in your captor’s grasp.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” the masculine voice was icy, yet weirdly comforting in your ear. “Just relax.”

The man’s hands were practically subzero on your arms. Whoever he was, he had to have superhuman strength. Finally, in what you thought was a moment of weakness, but really his doing, the man dropped you and you tried to scramble away. Unfortunately, he grabbed you again by the leg.

“I’m going to help you.” he hummed, waving hand in front of your face and staring at you with blood-red eyes.

You felt like you had been put in a trance, for you relaxed into his cold touch. It didn’t faze you that whoever this was had literal red eyes or the fact that he bent down and licked your cut with long, white fangs bared, leaving your leg looking like you had never been cut at all. Once he had finished, you seemed to fall out of your haze and stared at the man.

“Who are you?”

“I’ve been a lot of things,” he whispered, cupping your face. “But I know who you are.”

The longer you stared at the man, the more familiar he became. Long, black hair, icy blue eyes, black suit. The only difference between this man and the painting was that he appeared to have modernized himself with tattoos and piercings.

“You’re the man in the painting,” You whispered. “How are you…”

“Alive? Oh baby bat, you humans can be so clueless sometimes,” Johnnie shook his head with fondness. “Was the blood licking and fangs not enough?”

“You’re not a vampire. Vampires aren’t real.”

Johnni grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest where his button up shirt had been undone. His skin was cold and pale, and you felt nothing other than his soft breathing. There was no heartbeat, and he could tell you noticed this.

“Believe me now?” he asked softly.

“How?” You glanced to the right to see Tara being helped by what looked like another man, but you were too focused on the supernatural creature in front of you.

“The legends of this house are true,” Johnnie looked rather sad for a moment, but his voice was unwavering. “My family was murdered, but I was the only one who was changed.”

Even though you were still slightly shaken up from the interaction, you felt at peace with Johnnie. He wasn’t scary like myths about vampires had told you, and he didn’t seem to want to consume your blood. You almost felt bad for him. Had he been alone in the house his family had been murdered in for over a hundred years?

“I was the first born son,” the vampire gestured to the immense painting of himself. “My family was very well-loved in town. We held the biggest balls and my father was the mayor, but he made…a very bad deal. To be fair, he didn’t know the man had been a vampire. And so, the man came for revenge. He sucked my family dry, wanting me to join him in his business, which is why I was the only one changed. My mother opened the curtains before she died and…he died. But now, I’m the only one who still walks the earth.”

You were on the verge of tears as Johnnie finished his story. You threw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. His icy body relaxed into your touch, holding him close to you. There was almost a gravitational pull from your body to his, something that wasn’t quite human.

“Do you…feed on humans?” You asked him softly, wondering why he hadn’t sunk his fangs into you and Tara yet.

“I try not to,” he smiled kindly. “I only feed on animals. Unless of course, it’s someone who deserves it.” the man smiled, his fangs glinting in the pale moonlight.

“Next question. Did you like, put a spell on me?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because,” You started. “I’m weirdly comfortable around a vampire.”

Johnnie smiled softly again. “Once a mortal is changed into a vampire, they’re assigned a soulmate. That person can be a mortal or a vampire. I am unable to love until I’ve met my person, baby bat.” he paused to see if you would get the gist.

“So, I’m your person?” You asked him.

He nodded softly, kissing your forehead with gentle, cold lips. “Yes, little blood flower. You’re my person.”

You smiled, relaxing into his hold. Never in a million years would you have thought you would be hanging out with a vampire in an abandoned mansion on a Friday night, but Johnnie’s captivating pull kept you here, eager to relish in his love. Before you knew it, though, Tara had appeared next to you with another man. He was tall, much taller than Johnnie with long, brown hair and green eyes. He also had a variety of tattoos and piercings, but he wasn’t dressed nearly as proper as Johnnie was. Whereas the vampire had on a black and blood red suit, this other man was in more “punk” clothing and looked completely normal.

“I’m not tripping, right?” Tara asked you. “They’re really a vampire and a werewolf?”

“Well, I know about a vampire, but a werewolf?” You looked to Johnnie for confirmation.

“That’s Jake. He keeps me company. It gets a little lonely around here, so I need an immortal best friend.” he smiled.

You smiled, realizing that although these men were technically supernatural beings, they were nowhere near the legends people had made about them. They weren't aggressive or violent and aside from their physical attributes, they seemed fully human. They could think and feel and love. And as you and Tara spent the rest of the night getting to know your vampire and werewolf, you could tell that they would be in your life for more than just one night.

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morbidology · 3 months

Text

The legend of the "Green Man" traces its origins to Pennsylvania and describes a glowing supernatural entity or demon said to wander country roads at night. However, the true story behind this urban legend is more tragic than eerie. In 1918, young Raymond Robinson suffered a life-altering accident while climbing on a train track bridge to observe birds. Electrocuted, he endured a shock of 22,000 volts that melted his face, resulting in the loss of both eyes, his nose, an ear, and an arm.

As Raymond grew older, he faced relentless bullying from other kids who cruelly labeled him "The Zombie." This mockery drove him to seclusion, choosing to stay indoors to avoid the hurtful taunts. On rare occasions, he would venture outside at night, walking along State Route 351 with a walking stick. Locals caught wind of his nocturnal strolls, with some mocking him and others extending friendly gestures. The late-night walks ceased in the later years of his life, and he eventually moved to the Beaver County Geriatric Center, where he passed away at the age of 74.

Unfortunately, the genuine hardships Raymond faced became obscured by ghost stories and urban legends that emerged around him. He transformed from a real person, ostracized by the community due to his appearance, into the mythical figure of the "Green Man." The true narrative of Raymond's life was overshadowed by the sensationalism of the legend that grew in its wake.

#world #sad

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heavyhitterheaux · 11 months

Text

Meet Me Halfway

AN: Whewww buckle up!

Synopsis: He's a hopeless romantic, but you can't for the life of you understand why he won't commit. He's attached to you and doesn't want to be around anyone else. Doubts start to creep into your mind and now you're left feeling like you aren't good enough.

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Requested by: @kentuckyboyharlow 🥰

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

“That’s my good girl, you better take this shit and act like you want it.” Jack said while hovering above you while you were in the midst of getting your back blown out by him for the sixth time this week.

All it took was a few new outfits from Givenchy and three pairs of Louboutins to have you at his mercy.

But this was the usual thing.

You definitely didn’t need him, there was no doubt in your mind surrounding that.

But you wanted him.

You were successful in your own right having graduated from the top of your class at Harvard and following in your parents footsteps of being a business owner. You had always had an eye for fashion, so that was your go to. High end boutiques that you owned which could only be found in Paris, London, New York, Tampa, Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Atlanta.

The two of you met when he had ventured into one of your boutiques when you had happened to be there and he was infatuated by you from the first glance.

And everyone was able to tell.

This entire friends with benefits situation had been going on for a year and a half, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, it was now starting to bother you.

Bottom line is that you knew that you deserved better, but you wanted for the better to come from him.

As far fetched as that idea was.

Jack would tell you all the time how he longed to be in a relationship with someone that would see him for the person that he was and not just what his job entailed.

Well, that was you.

He would admit that you were one of the few people who still treated him like a person and separated him from what his job description entailed.

He would go to you about everything and sometimes more often than not, you would know things before even his best friend Urban did.

Jack would always tell you how much he trusted you and how much he valued having you in his life, however it didn’t quite feel like it sometimes.

Being that you signed an NDA, there really was no one that you could talk to about your relationship issues and didn’t want the risk of you accidentally letting his name slip from your lips when you were addressing the topic.

So, you suffered in silence.

But, you honestly didn’t know how much longer you could take.

Jack literally did everything for you that a boyfriend would do in a relationship, there just wasn’t a title to go along with it.

As you were both coming down from your high, Jack took the opportunity to pepper kisses all along your skin, before finally reaching your face and kissing the side of your mouth before pressing his lips to yours.

He slowly slipped out of you making you wince before laying down next to you on his back and pulling you on top of him.

Jack noticed that you had been unusually quiet for the past three days.

He bought the gifts in hope that it would put you in a better mood, but truth be told nothing had changed.

That’s when the thought of him losing you crept into his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out.

You meant a lot to him and when an opportunity arose for him to tell you, he took it.

He loved you and was in love with you but probably would never say it to your face. He was scared that he would either run you off or mess up a good thing and that was honestly the last thing that he wanted to do.

You were his safe place and his safe haven.

“Babe, why are you so quiet? Did something happen? You haven’t been yourself for these past few days.”

“I’m fine, I promise.” You answered, not bothering to pick your head up from his chest to look at him and you knew that he was going to continue to push until he got an answer that he was satisfied with.

“You know better than to lie to me. You can tell me anything. I want to help you fix what’s wrong if I can.”

Oh, he definitely could,alright, if he would just admit his feelings and stop being scared all the time.

That was the only reason that you could think of as to why he hasn’t said anything to you yet.

“Can we just drop it? It’s not something that I want to think about right now. You asked me to come see you and I did and that’s all I want to focus on before I have to fly back home.”

“We can drop it for now, but before you leave I want an answer.”

“It’s nothing, just work things.”

“That’s bullshit and you know by now that I can see right through you.”

“Jackman….”

“Damn, we on government basis now?” Jack asked as he looked down at you and the two of you finally made eye contact.

You were quiet and simply looked at him.

When he didn’t get an answer from you all he did was sigh before kissing the top of your head.

“Fine, I’ll let it go for now. Maybe it’ll take your mind off things when we go to see my parents and Clay later.”

“I thought you said that we weren’t leaving this bed when I got here?”

“Well more or less. We’ve been going at it for six days anyway, one night away won’t hurt. And they miss you anyway. I told them that you were coming and they got excited.”

This obviously wasn’t the first time that you had met Jack’s parents. You actually knew them really well. He always introduced you as his friend when meeting someone new and every time Maggie saw you she would ask if her oldest had asked for you to be his girlfriend yet.

Because she honestly didn’t know what the hold up was either.

She would always tell you the way that Jack talked about you and how he would literally light up and get excited. He didn’t do that with anyone else.

Not to mention that when the two of you met, he literally cut off everyone that to him would be seen as a distraction and would take his attention off of you.

You were the shiny new toy that he was infatuated by and as many times as you wanted to walk away from the situation, he kept reeling you back in.

“So, what do you think of the house?” Jack asked you quickly changing the subject before you had an opportunity to say no.

You had been the first person that he confided in about wanting to buy a house and he wanted for you to go house hunting with him in Louisville, however, your schedule just didn’t allow it. But you promised him you would come and see it as soon as you could.

When he made the purchase, he immediately flew you out to see it, hence, why you were there now.

He still had some decorating to do for him to get it exactly how he wanted it, but the basics were there.

You were the first person to step foot in it besides him and the realtor and you admit that you loved that he confided in you so much because he valued your opinion on different things.

“I like it, it suits you.”

“I got an extra key made for you too.” Jack said while reaching over to the bedside table to grab it and then placing it in your hands.

“Jack…”

“No, I want you to have it. You’re my person and if at any time you need me, you know that I’ll be here and there’s no need to hesitate. I’m always going to be here for you no matter what. If you want to hop on a plane in the middle of the night to come see me, then you can. You keep me grounded and the last thing that I would ever want to do is lose you.”

“Okay.” You said as you reached over to put it to the side of you making a mental note to put it on your keys later.

“Can I be real with you for a minute?” Jack asked you and you simply nodded your head.

“Of course you can, I’m never going to tell you no.”

And truth be told that’s what your problem was, never being able to tell him no.

“I just think about how I can’t wait to settle down and have kids. I highly doubt that I’m going to meet my wife in a club somewhere, but you never know I guess. I want for them to want for nothing and that’s why I work so hard now.”

Luckily you weren’t facing Jack as he told you this because you immediately rolled your eyes.

He always did this shit and made you feel as if you were just a placeholder even if that wasn't his intention. Keeping his wife’s spot warm for when he actually did meet her and then what? He would probably kick you to the curb and would probably have to give him the house key back.

When that happened, you planned on cutting him off for good.

And you weren’t going to run back to him no matter how hard that it might end up being.

Because how in the world would you be able to compete with somebody’s wife?

“I don’t know if that’s what I want in life or if that’s the type of life for me.” You quietly answered and Jack did a double take.

Honestly, you wanted for it to be with him, but the thought of that went out the window a long time ago.

What Jack wouldn’t admit to your face is that the only person he saw that future with was you.

“Since when? From the moment we met you said that you always wanted a family.”

“Well things can change.” You replied while shrugging.

“Any man would be lucky to have you and he wouldn’t want for nothing because of how amazing of a person you are. Anyone is able to see that. Especially me."

“I.. just don’t know if I’m cut out to be someone’s wife.”

“You’re definitely more than capable. Just look at the way you take care and do things for me.”

You so badly wanted at that moment to get up and walk out the door and never speak to him again, but of course it wasn’t that easy.

You were too far in and down bad and you knew it.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Jack placed another kiss to your temple and this time you couldn't help but to smile.

“Now let me eat you out before we have to get ready.”

It was now around 8 PM and Maggie had cornered you with a glass of red wine for you to update her about everything that had been going on in your life in the backyard since she ordered out for dinner not having the energy to cook anything.

I guess it was fair seeing as the last time you saw her was a month ago.

You truly adored his parents and looked up to them as they were yours right along with Clay.

“Okay miss lady, spill it!” Maggie said while sitting next to you and handing you the wine.

“Nothing is really going on!” You said while laughing and taking a small sip.

“Nothing? Nothing at all? Including with my oldest child?”

“Definitely nothing there. We’re friends, that’s all.”

“But the way that he looks at you tells me otherwise. I know that look because that is how Brian looks at me.”

“Mama Maggie….”

“What?! I’m just saying! I know what love looks like when I see it and I definitely see it between the two of you no matter how much either of you wants to deny it, Mama knows best.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong but….”

“But what?”

“I just don’t think I’m the perfect fit for him.”

“And that is utter bullshit, excuse my French. You two fit together like two puzzle pieces and not the ones that you have to force together.”

“We’re friends and the last thing I want to do is ruin that.”

“But my question is, what if you don’t ruin it and it turns into something more? Then what? You’re never going to know unless you try.”

Just then Jack made his way over to the two of you and Maggie simply eyed him.

“You two were just talking about me, weren’t you?” He asked while looking between both of you.

“Oh, just telling Y/N how I’m waiting for you to ask her on a proper date. Nothing more or nothing less.”

“MOM!” Jack exclaimed while turning beet red and all you could do was stifle a laugh.

“What? What’d I say? You obviously want me to be honest with you right?”

“I… I should have never asked. Anyway, Y/N, you ready?”

“But we’re only one glass in, don’t tell me you’re stealing her from me already.”

“She has an early flight mom, so yes I am stealing her from you.”

“Fine, Y/N, just remember what I told you and don’t take so long to come back and see me.”

“I promise I won’t.”

The two of you simply rode in silence back to his house and once there, you immediately went upstairs to begin packing.

“Hey, you okay? I seriously want you to tell me what’s wrong. I didn’t forget.” Jack asked while coming up behind you and wrapping his arms around you and placing a kiss on your cheek.

"I promise I'm okay. I just don't want you to worry about me.'

"But I always worry about you. Can't help it. If it was left up to me, you would be around me all the time."

"I know I would." You said while laughing and Jack turned you around so that you were now facing him.

He was simply looking at you with that famous smile of his and you could feel your face starting to get hot.

"Oh my gosh, stop!"

"Stop what? I didn't even do anything!"

"You're staring at me!'

"Well I can't help it if my girl is extremely gorgeous." Jack said while leaning down to kiss you and you eagerly kissed him back.

"Can't you stay for one more day?' He quietly asked and you immediately sighed.

"You know I can't."

"Yes you can, you're the CEO and can do whatever you want."

"You had me for a week already."

"And truth be told I need another one. Come on babe, please." Jack said while trying to subtly reach behind you in order to close your suitcase to put it back in his closet.

"But…"

"I haven't seen you for an entire month. Everyone was suffering just ask Urb."

"Fine, one more day."

"Good, because I already went in your phone and changed your flight so this would have been real awkward if you had said no."

"Jack!"

"What!? I missed you."

"I missed you too."

"See if you moved down here, I could see you every day and not have to miss you so much all the time."

"Now, Jackman.."

"Hey, it was just a thought!"

Even though you promised Jack to stay another day, you still packed the majority of your things away so that it would be easier to get ready to leave and hopefully be at the airport on time. Jack had helped you finish and the two of you began to have a movie marathon before you fell asleep.

Jack was still wide awake and peering down at you while you were asleep on his chest.

His thoughts were running rampant and he knew that you deserved better than this.

But truth be told, he was terrified.

Terrified of his feelings that he had for you.

He didn't really know why, seeing as he knew you like the back of his hand and he knew that you wouldn’t hurt him, but that thought still had residence in the back of his mind.

The biggest thing he had to separate is the fact that you weren't her.

The two of you had absolutely nothing in common and when Jack met you, it was like a breath of fresh air.

You were focused, had your goals, dreams, and aspirations set and he honestly wanted nothing more than to see you win and be by your side through all of it.

But what he didn't plan on was falling in love with you head first.

He wanted to tell you, he really did.

But the last thing he ever wanted to do was disappoint you or vice versa, you disappoint him.

However, the way that you showed him that you cared let him know that he wanted you in his life for the long run.

It was only a matter of time until you got fed up and he didn't know what he would do when that happened.

Just a little while longer and he'll tell you.

The wife that he would always mention that he wanted was you.

He saw a future with you and no one else.

Now all he needed was the courage to tell you.

—

You had been back home for about a week and a half and had been extremely busy getting new designs ready for fall. You admit that you hadn’t been answering your phone much or talking to Jack on a daily basis like you usually did, so it didn’t surprise you when your phone started ringing with his specific ringtone attached to it.

"Hello?" You answered when you had finally found your phone that was buried underneath multiple fabrics that you were using for the dress you were designing.

"Babe! What took you so long to answer your phone!?"

"I'm working, Jackman. I need to work in order to buy things."

"My girl doesn't need to work when she knows I got her. Anything you ask me for, I get it without a second thought."

"I- cut it out."

"Just saying, but anyway, I got your assistant to clear your schedule for this weekend. Actually the whole week."

"What the!?!? JACK!"

"My baby needs a much deserved break and I'm spending the entire week spoiling her. You'll thank me later."

"Where are we going?"

"Meet me on the tarmac at 6 am on Saturday to find out. Oh and bring that purple lingerie set that I like."

"What? I don't have a set that's purple." You answered, trying to think of all of the sets you had in your head.

"Yes you do since I got it delivered to your house earlier. It'll be waiting for you when you get there."

"What am I going to do with you?" You asked him while shaking your head.

"Nothing. Been stuck with me this long. And you know you can't get rid of me that easily."

"Jackman, get off my phone and let me finish so I can go home."

"So, is that a yes? That you'll go with me?"

"Well I didn't tell you no, did I?"

As promised it was around 5:45 in the morning when you pulled up to the airport to see Jack already waiting for you.

You had barely gotten any sleep the night before between how excited you were, how much you missed him, and worrying about finishing the designs for your boutique.

Once the car came to a complete stop, the driver opened the door for you and while he was getting your bags out of the trunk to load onto the plane, you ran full force into Jack with him catching you and your legs immediately went around his waist.

“Did someone miss me?” He curiously asked while kissing the top of your head.

“Ehh, I mean I guess I missed you.” You responded as he placed you back down on your feet and began to play with your braids.

“Wait, you guess? After all that I went through to plan this shit for you? YOU GUESS?”

“Of course I missed you J, now where are we going?” You asked as you began to climb the steps of the private jet with him right behind you.

“Did you bring what I asked you to bring?” Jack asked while eyeing you as the two of you were now seated next to each other.

“If it’s the purple lingerie set that we’re talking about, I’m actually wearing it right now.”

“Good girl. You’ll see when we get there.”

The two of you were now in Paris near the Eiffel tower having a candlelit dinner for your next to last night in Paris and you were in absolute awe of how much he went through to be able to do this for you and were thankful that he takes initiative to be able to spend as much time with you as he possibly can.

Tonight had to be the night that he was going to do it.

It only made sense right?

He had to ask you to be his girlfriend at this point, because nothing else would make sense.

Him flying you to Paris?

Having dinner near the Eiffel tower?

Putting you in one of the most expensive hotels in the city?

And not to mention him fucking your brains out ever since the two of you touched down with no end in sight.

The purple lingerie set definitely came in handy.

I mean this was one hell of a first date if it could be considered one, but you were definitely convinced that it was.

“J, thank you for this.” You said while sipping on your red wine and he simply looked up at you and smiled.

“Anything for my girl, you know that. I know that this is one of your favorite places in the world and I remember you telling me how you really never get a chance to enjoy it because usually when you come here, you’re working so I decided to bring you when I knew for a fact you wouldn’t be working at all. Only work you’re allowed to put in is on this dick.”

“Way to ruin the mood, Jackman.”

“What?! I was just saying! And do you know that I don’t let anyone call me Jackman, but you? Besides my mom of course, but I just love the way my name sounds when you say it.”

“Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Well, yeah. You’re special to me.” Jack replied while shrugging and turning red at the same time.

“And you’ve definitely shown that to me this week, and all the time really now that I think about it.”

“And I wanted to ask you something.”

“Of course, anything.” You answered as your heart started to race.

This had to be it, it just had to be.

“I just don’t know how you’re going to take it.” Jack said while scratching the back of his neck, clearly nervous.

“Babe, just ask me.”

“Would you be in charge of designing my wardrobe when I go on tour?”

What.the.actual.fuck.

“Wait, what?”

“Only because I know you have so much to do already, but I wanted you to come on tour with me! I can’t go that long without seeing you or having you near me.”

“Oh.” You said in defeat and now decided to pick up your fork and play with your dessert and trying not to break down in tears in front of him.

“Just think about it, baby. No pressure, but I would love to have you with me. And you already know how much PG adores you.”

“I’ll think about it.” You quietly said and Jack immediately noticed a change in your demeanor.

“Okay, just let me know. Oh and one more thing.”

Jack simply pulled out a box that had Cartier written on it and placed it in front of you and all you did was stare at it.

“What are you waiting for baby? Go ahead and open it.”

You did as you were told and slowly opened it up to see that it was a bracelet.

But not just any bracelet.

It was THE bracelet that you had told Jack you had wanted, but never got around to actually buying it yourself.

“Jack…”

“Do you like it? Here let me put it on for you.” He said while taking it from you to help you put it on.

It was taking everything in you in that moment to not rip it off and throw it into his face.

“You’re my person, Y/N, and don’t you ever forget that. You ready to get out of here?”

You forced a small smile and quickly nodded.

You needed to get away from him.

As soon as possible.

This had gone on long enough and you were tired of feeling like you weren’t good enough for him.

The ride back to the hotel was awkwardly silent and Jack knew that there was something wrong, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint what it could actually be.

He finally cornered you in the master bedroom of the suite that you two were staying in and wanted an answer.

“Babe? What’s wrong? Something’s off.”

“You just wouldn’t understand.”

“Why wouldn’t I understand? Where is this coming from?”

“Jack, drop it and I mean it.”

“Something is wrong with my girl and I’m not dropping it until she tells me why.” He answered before turning you around to face him.

All you did was look down and Jack quickly put his finger under your chin for you to look up at him.

“I’m tired of not being good enough.” You quietly whispered not being able to hold it in any longer.

“What? What do you mean? Good enough for who? You are more than enough.”

“Obviously not for you.”

Jack wasn’t expecting that for an answer and was now looking at you confused.

“For me?”

“Don’t play dumb because I do not have the patience for it tonight.” You said while turning around and continuing to pack your bag.

“I’m not playing dumb, but why would you say that?!”

“Jackman, you literally do everything as if we’re in a relationship. Down to the gifts, you buying me a car no matter how much I wanted for you to return it, you fuck me whenever you feel like it, fly me out to wherever you are in the world and you literally just gave me a key to your house. And now apparently instead of flying me to Paris in order for you to ask me to be your girlfriend, I get a bracelet and you asking for me to go on tour with you instead. All while still not being able to call myself your girlfriend. You just take and take and take from me and I allow it! I follow you anywhere like a lost puppy! You don’t see any problem with that?”

“Where is this coming from because the last time I checked, you were okay with it.”

“When was the last time you checked? Because I honestly don’t ever remember you asking me.”

“And you’re just saying something now? We’ve known each other for almost TWO years!”

“And that’s all you have to say? You constantly make me feel like I’m not good enough and that I’m a placeholder for your actual wife because you even said it yourself.”

“NO I DIDN’T!”

“BUT IT WAS IMPLIED!”

“Y/N.. just I can’t have a girlfriend right now.”

“But you can have me, who is basically your girlfriend without the title? I’VE MET YOUR PARENTS AND YOUR GRANDPARENTS. WHO DOES THAT FOR SOMEONE WHO THEY DON’T PLAN ON BEING WITH?!”

“I….”

“And now you don’t even have an answer because you never intended on making me your girlfriend in the first place. Even if you led me to believe that you were. You cut everyone off for me and it’s like for what? You might as well call them back because whatever this is, it’s over and done with. You’re not going to play me anymore.”

“No one is even playing you! You knew this shit from the beginning and how it would be!”

“Jack, you don’t have to worry about me so here’s your key back. And do me a favor. Don’t call me for the rest of your life and I hope that you find your wife wherever she may be.”

“Y/N… you don’t mean that. You…. don’t do this.”

“You don’t love me so why do you even care if I walk out of your life?”

“I DO LOVE YOU!”

“BUT NOT THE WAY THAT I FUCKING LOVE YOU SO I DON’T WANT TO HEAR IT! I’M DONE, I’M DONE WITH THIS SHIT! I DESERVE BETTER!” You were now crying and Jack was trying to embrace you, but you immediately pushed him away.

“No, I’m not getting roped back in so don’t even touch me.”

“Y/N, you’re crying.”

“BECAUSE OF YOU!”

“Y/N, I just need more time. We’ll do this, we’ll do it all. Be in a relationship and everyone will know about it.”

You simply wiped your eyes with the back of your hand even though they were still steadily streaming down your face.

“No, don’t try to save face now and try to make it right. I meant it when I said I was done. Don’t give me any handouts. I want someone to love me for me and love me outloud and not be afraid to show it. I have never seen someone so scared of commitment like you are. I’m not innocent in this either, however, I realized that I deserve more.” You said as you closed your suitcase and was making your way towards the door.

“I CAN’T FUCKING LIVE WITHOUT YOU AND YOU KNOW THAT!”

“You lived without me for 22 years. I’m sure you’ll find a way to fill the void.”

“Y/N please. I don’t know what I’m going to do if you walk out that door and never talk to me again.” Jack pleaded with you with actual tears in his eyes.

“You’re Jack Harlow. You’ll find another bitch to keep your bed warm at night.”

“But she won’t be you!”

“And you’re damn right about that. Maybe now I can actually look for my husband, wherever he may be.”

“Let’s just sleep on this and we’ll talk about it again in the morning.” Jack said while trying to come closer to you but you immediately backed up.

“Jack, I made myself pretty clear. The answer is no.”

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#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfiction

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urbanventures · 9 months

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Pack Food with UV

Urban Ventures is thrilled to partner with Cristo Rey, Loaves & Fishes, MAD DADs, and Lake Street Works to host a Mobile Food pack event.

We have space for over 500 volunteers to help us pack 100,000 meals to feed individuals and families in need.

Minneapolis Food Pack Event August 15 & 16 (multiple shifts available) COLIN POWELL CENTER 2924 Fourth Ave S, Minneapolis CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP FOR A SHIFT

#minneapolis #events #feed the hungry #urban ventures #south minneapolis #cristo rey #loaves and fishes #news #MADDADs #lake street works #volutneer #volunteerism #serve the city

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skylivingbyallure · 6 months

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SkyLiving.ca: Your Ultimate Guide to Urban Living in Surrey

Welcome to SkyLiving.ca, your go-to resource for all things related to urban living in Surrey. Whether you're in search of the perfect condo, exploring townhouse options, or interested in the latest developments in the area, we've got you covered. Join us as we delve into the vibrant Surrey real estate market, featuring prominent projects like Grand on King George, SFU Surrey, UBC Surrey, and many more.

Condo Listings and Amenities:

If you're on the hunt for the ideal condo, SkyLiving.ca offers an extensive list of condo listings in Surrey. One standout development is the Grand on King George, a testament to luxurious urban living. These condos boast state-of-the-art amenities, including fitness centers, rooftop lounges, and concierge services, ensuring residents experience the epitome of comfort and convenience.

SFU Surrey and UBC Surrey:

Education meets urban living in Surrey, with SFU Surrey and UBC Surrey playing pivotal roles in the community. SkyLiving.ca provides insights into the surrounding real estate, making it easy for students, faculty, and those seeking a dynamic living experience to find their perfect home.

Homeowner Care and Surrey Developments:

At SkyLiving.ca, we understand that homeowner care is paramount. We explore Surrey developments such as Sequoia, Emerald Gardens, Allure, and more, ensuring you stay informed about the latest trends and opportunities in the Surrey real estate scene. From modern design to sustainable features, these developments redefine urban living.

Townhouse Living in Surrey:

For those who prefer a bit more space, townhouses in Surrey offer the perfect balance between comfort and community. The Grand, Browns Surrey, and other townhouse options are highlighted on SkyLiving.ca, providing a comprehensive look at the diverse range of choices available in the area.

Surrey Condo Prices and Presale Opportunities:

Navigating condo prices can be a crucial aspect of the home-buying process. SkyLiving.ca keeps you up to date on Surrey condo prices, ensuring you make well-informed decisions. Additionally, explore presale opportunities, allowing you to get in on the ground floor of exciting new developments like Allure Ventures with the added peace of mind of a warranty.

Allure Ventures Warranty and Condo Rentals:

Learn more about the Allure Ventures warranty, offering security and confidence in your investment. And for those not ready to commit to ownership, SkyLiving.ca also covers condo rentals in Surrey, providing a glimpse into the rental market for those seeking a temporary urban living experience.

Conclusion:

SkyLiving.ca is your one-stop destination for all things related to urban living in Surrey. From condo listings and amenities to townhouse options and the latest developments, we've curated a comprehensive guide to help you make informed decisions in the Surrey real estate market. Explore the possibilities, embrace the urban lifestyle, and let SkyLiving.ca be your guide to finding the perfect home in Surrey.

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agronzky · 7 months

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⠀⠀⠀𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐈𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑. ♡

below you will find 20 random and creative questions about halloween designed to help develop character personality and traits. such questions can also be used as ask meme or pov starters.

What is their favorite Halloween costume and why?

How do they celebrate Halloween? Do they attend parties, decorate the house, or avoid it altogether?

Are they superstitious? Are there Halloween traditions that they follow or avoid?

Do they like horror movies? If so, what are their favorites?

How do they react to scares or frights? Do they laugh, get nervous, or not react at all?

What would do if they encountered something supernatural on Halloween?

Are they brave enough to venture into a haunted house?

How would they deal with a zombie situation or Halloween apocalypse?

What are their favorite Halloween foods or treats?

Do they prefer trick-or-treating? How do they have fun on Halloween?

Do they believe in urban legends or local ghost stories?

How would they dress for a themed Halloween party?

Have they had a paranormal or unexplained experience?

Are they skeptical of supernatural phenomena or do they believe in them?

Would their get involved in ghost hunting or paranormal investigation?

What are their worst nightmares? Does it relate to Halloween in any way?

How would they react if they were cursed or turned into a supernatural creature?

Would they decorate the house to scare the neighbors or to provide a more light-hearted experience?

How would they choose their own Halloween costume? Would it be creative or classic?

If they were a classic monster, which monster would they be and why?

#rp meme #rp memes #rph #writing advice #rp help #writing resources #writing help #rp writing help #rp ask meme #rp ask box meme #rp resources #halloween

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utilitycaster · 5 months

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Dimension 20's Failed Genre Experiments

(This is the "Has Dimension 20 lost its touch?" post I’ve alluded to; please enjoy some genuine criticism masquerading as a riff on those sorts of articles for other shows.)

Dimension 20's debut and flagship burst onto the scene with a simple and elegant premise. What if a John Hughes movie were set at a high school for D&D adventurers? Its next full length pre-recorded season was the similarly strong urban fantasy The Unsleeping City, which in turn was followed up by the channel’s most ambitious outing yet: the Game of Thrones in Candyland mash-up, A Crown of Candy.

Widely considered to be a watershed moment for the show, A Crown of Candy explored darker themes on a famously comedic platform, was the first on the channel to have permanent player character deaths, added new mechanics and limited what the players could choose to fit the world to support this more serious tone, and on a structural level, was a welcome departure from the prior rigid alternation between episodes of combat and episodes without. It was filmed prior to the pandemic but went to air in early April 2020, when many livestreamed actual play shows were on pause and even some podcasts were scrambling to figure out remote recording. D20 introduced their talkback show as a way for the cast to hang out remotely and chat about each episode, and Adventuring Party has remained a companion to the main show. The channel had hit its stride.

Its House of the Dragon sidequest, The Ravening War, aired three years later. Despite a complicated reaction to its announcement, it was a well-received outing, but one on what had by that time become a noticeably bumpy road.

Sidequests like The Ravening War are what D20 calls its shorter, 4-10 episode seasons that do not feature the main “Intrepid Heroes” cast in full nor necessarily feature Brennan Lee Mulligan as DM. We've seen everything from the perspective of the villains in both a Lord of the Rings clone (Escape from the Bloodkeep) and a Dracula homage (Coffin Run); to a Regency romance in the Feywild (A Court of Fey and Flowers). In addition to Mercer, Jasmine Bhullar and Gabe Hicks have each run a sidequest, and Aabria Iyengar has run three. And while the Intrepid Heroes' only venture outside D&D so far is the D&D-inspired Star Wars 5e, sidequests have been run in various Kids on Bikes hacks and Hicks' own Mythic system, as their shorter format makes it even easier to experiment with the parodies, pastiches, and mash-ups the channel is known for.

There have however been two notable failed experiments, and their close proximity (both released within the past year) could be a hiccup, or could be a sign that D20’s ambition, while admirable, could use some serious reining in. They are Neverafter and Burrow's End.

Marketed as the horror season, crossed over with fairy tales, Neverafter started out strong. Only three episodes in, there was an unprecedented (for D20) total party kill. The subsequent episode is the zenith of the season, in which each character is brought back, most of them changed and twisted by the experience, playing out an analysis of their role as an archetype within these stories: Sleeping Beauty and the classic roles of The Princess (introducing such NPCs as Cinderella and Snow White), for example; or Puss in Boots as The Trickster.

Unfortunately, the quality dropped soon after. It was revealed that the darkness spreading across the fairytale multiverse was due to the influence of The Authors, and the story began to be one about the concept of stories...while still trying to incorporate not only the plotlines of the fairy tales the main PCs were from, but also an intertwined conflict between the fairies and the princess NPCs. With this, the horror, with a few exceptions, melted away: violence and monsters are standard D&D fare, and when heroes race to save the world and victory seems not only possible but likely, any distinction between horror and a typical D&D heroic fantasy is lost.

It’s not the first overstuffed campaign, but it certainly is the first one that fails to land on several levels. Starstruck Odyssey is similarly chaotic and rushed at times, but it consistently sticks to a broad message of personal autonomy and freedom within late-stage capitalism. Mulligan is famous for his capacity to spin endless dense lore off the cuff, and if it at times overcomplicates the plot of the packed and colorful comedic space adventure, at least it contributes to the baked-in excess of the setting. But Neverafter's postmodern flourishes against a horror backdrop desperately needed an injection of sparseness and silence it never received.

This is enhanced by the nature of actual play: with a few exceptions, even when filmed and even with the elaborate production values of Dimension 20, it is first and foremost primarily an auditory medium. We only know what is narrated to us. Neverafter did not permit its audience the time and space to fear the unknown. The existential horror of the metanarrative, of being a character doomed to a specific ending, while touched on by some of the cast (particularly Siobhan Thompson’s Sleeping Beauty), took a backseat to models of giant spiders and tales of undead dwarves. The story lacked the room to build real tension, but also failed to adequately create the claustrophobia of being truly trapped within its narrative. It feels more stuffy than unsettling.

Burrow's End is far less airless, but profoundly disjointed. Neverafter thought it knew what it was, but Burrow's End went through multiple identity crises by the halfway mark, and the marketing for the series reflects this.

The initial trailer makes it seem like a cute if dramatic story about a family of stoats - think Redwall, think Wind in the Willows. The first episode was excellent, however, and sold many who had been unimpressed by the trailers on the series, with its well-played setup of the clear Watership Down/Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH parallels with a unique twist in the form of The Blue.

The promotion took a strange turn, however, with the second episode and its infamous bear carcass battle map. It was hyped as uniquely horrifying, with a teaser video posted of the cast shrieking as the map, unseen by the audience, was wheeled past them. This seemed rather cavalier of the channel once the episode was posted, accompanied by a gore content warning covering a period of well over an hour...which was then further undercut by an exquisitely crafted, but ultimately rather tame display of a bear's innards. It was left out on the table during Adventuring Party as well, further reducing the idea of any meaningful shock factor (or any attempt to accommodate those in the audience who were triggered). The combat this map was for was a creative one, and the episode itself high quality, but it furthered the sense that Dimension 20 itself was unsure of what they were trying to get people to watch.

The series continued on with two more excellent episodes as it reached Last Bast, a clearly man-made structure full of thousands of stoats, with a strong dash of the police state. The actors immediately clocking the flaws of this society, but their stoat characters having no similar sense, led to a fascinating tension. However, the Blue (called the Light in Last Blast), previously described as some animating force and driver of magical power, and mysteriously concentrated in the brain of the dead-but-animated bear, was then revealed to be ionizing radiation.

At this point, the details of my own life become relevant. My career is in the field of health physics. I hold a master’s degree in this specialty and have served as a radiation safety officer, though not at a reactor. I don’t think that this background is a requirement to understand the structural issues of this season; but it certainly made me particularly attuned to the flaws.

Before you claim that this is just a show and who cares: In addition to my love of actual play, I am also a fan of comics and all sorts of speculative fiction. I am well aware that Spider-Man’s “radioactive blood” would not realistically grant him spider powers; I know that going into a high radiation field would not create Doctor Manhattan; I know that Superman does not actually have ‘x-ray vision’, and I know that radiation creates neither kaiju nor rad roaches. This is fine. In comics, radiation is a shorthand for “mad science” or “mysterious powers” with a sense of the lethal and the eldritch and the hubristic. The story is not so much about the source of these powers, but rather the great responsibilities they require. Godzilla, meanwhile, is clearly a metaphor for the very real nuclear devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and Fallout is an anti-proliferation and anti-war message with nuclear annihilation as the set up for its post-apocalyptic setting. These works understand that radiation is a limited-use plot device, and, wisely, they keep it simple.

Burrow’s End, by placing radiation front and center, has lost the message. The themes of the story are irretrievably muddled: what seems like a tale of family displaced by human intervention now positions a man-made hazardous material as both sinister corruption and divine boon, and engages neither with a fitting narrative of both the pros and cons of technology, nor of human and animal symbiosis. The finale establishes the latter in a rushed cut scene reliant on a single persuasion roll, and the two episodes prior to that meanwhile establish that while the humans first introduced radiation to the ecosystem, the first five stoats were the ones who sought it out and disseminated it and built the police state, and their true nemesis was Phoebe, one of their own. This culminates with Phoebe, the previously unseen fifth of the first five stoats (who have by now already been killed by the heroes), piloting the body of a 20-years-dead human, threatening to somehow cause global radiation contamination as her grand Evil Scheme. Unnecessarily, from a narrative perspective, I might add; this occurs after the final combat has already begun and she is magically controlling two of the party members. They’re already going to kill her. It’s a hat on a hat on a hat, and the humans are incidental.

When I was a child, I was enamored with the sort of stories in which children are sent to another time or place and then return with seemingly no time passing, and at one point excitedly told my mother I had an idea for a story, of what happens back while you’re time traveling. My mother, a fan of speculative fiction herself, and never one to coddle, told me “nothing, honey, that’s the point.” I wonder if something similar happened here; an attempted deconstruction of those radiation-granted superpower tropes, focused so hard on being clever it overshot into something anything but. Other elements of the story - particularly the weak pun of “copper” to hammer home the already obvious theme of population support being the arm of the police - make me think this was indeed an attempt at cleverness that missed the mark.

I am happy to elaborate on the flaws of the science elsewhere but I think the most succinct way to put it is that while the biology and habits of stoats sans radiation has been considered with what seems to be at least a modicum of love and care (their use of pre-existing burrows, Viola’s pregnancy), the radiation science/understanding of recent nuclear history can only be described as abysmally neglectful, in and out of game. They let a Loss of Coolant Accident go on for three days with a remarkably casual attitude? This disaster was sufficient to result in what appears to be an exclusion zone (of which there have been three, ever, in human history; two of which are the immediately recognizable Chernobyl and Fukushima) and yet it isn’t being monitored closely enough for someone to notice that there’s been penned animals next to the building for years (let alone that the building itself is teeming with stoats)? For that matter, they’re opening the site only twenty years later? After the “radiation dust”, apparently present on the fully maintained roads by the reactor, but neither within nor in front of the reactor, just now made 14 people bleed out (not how Acute Radiation Syndrome works; also 14 deaths from ARS in 1982, when the series is set would in fact be an unprecedented disaster. In our world, Chernobyl - which had not yet happened in 1982 - is the only nuclear accident that exceeds that ARS death toll.)

Radiation becomes an all-purpose plot engine with no internal consistent logic: it kills humans swiftly and brutally (though based on statements by Dr. Tara Steel and the fact that she seems fine in only a hazmat suit - which shields from contamination but will stop neither gamma nor neutron radiation - only via inhalation). But it infects chipmunks and bears with corruptive and bizarre neurological effects, turns wolves into horrifying but loyal hybridized monstrosities, and conveys to stoats not just human intelligence, but mastery of human language, magic spells, and the ability to come back as a revenant through force of will…though it also can immediately kill them, but also extend their lifespans, but also cause them to slowly mutate into wolves (but not through DNA splicing transfer, that would be silly). It kills 14 humans nearly instantly with off-site dust, but another survives a fiery attempted core meltdown with no apparent ill effects.

There is an excellent and thoughtful story about family, generational trauma, and political structures somewhere under here, and the incredible cast does its damndest to sell it, but it is all but lost beneath a sci-fi whodunnit that would make Ed Wood cock a skeptical eyebrow.

Neverafter and Burrow’s End’s respective collapses under the weight of ambition coincide, perhaps unintentionally, with some of the more dubious film editing choices on Dimension 20. Filmed actual play can be visually unexciting, and Dimension 20 has used simple shot/reverse shots, as well as some sound effects (notably for critical hits and fails) throughout its run to break it up. Neverafter, however, is marked by deliberate hisses and glitches, fractured split screens, echoey vocal effects, and nails-on-chalkboard screeches. This did not add to the atmosphere as intended; at best they were irritating and for many made it actively harder to hear key dialogue. Burrow’s End’s editing has been simpler, mostly relying on some, to be fair, well-placed cuts to black and voice distortion to indicate taped or radioed segments; but a key moment - Jaysohn’s potentially fatal rush into radioactive waters - is undercut with a frankly cheesy montage. Others I spoke to compared it to Indian soap operas, 1960s Doctor Who, The Oscars In Memoriam video, and reality show farewell reels. It takes what could be a tense potential character death - something D20 already handles wonderfully with their iconic Box of Doom - and makes it cheap and tacky, particularly jarring given the beautiful and haunting shadow puppet animation the season had previously delivered to convey the stoat creation myths. (And then, when Ava falls into the waters herself saving him, she merely comes back as a revenant with no ill effects. The stakes were never there to begin with in this smoke and mirrors season.)

Praise for Dimension 20 often hinges on its original innovative structure; most actual play shows skew towards more longform storytelling. However, the short format comes with a price. The fixed length of D20 seasons and the elaborate, custom made maps require a deft GM that can guide players to the exact right place without it seeming forced. Threading the needle is harder than it looks; even the otherwise iconic Fantasy High debut season stumbled towards the end when the players were too good at uncovering the mystery, and Mulligan had to place their characters in an inescapable prison in order to pad out a pre-scheduled episode before the finale. Perhaps the strain of this constant need to live up to a reputation as high-concept innovators, rather than simply create something good and cohesive, is beginning to show. The higher production values in Neverafter and Burrow’s End cannot hide their messy plots and confused messages, and indeed only highlight them. One interview said that for Burrow’s End, Iyengar wants the audience to trust her; after Burrow's End, I can’t say I do.

The next Dimension 20 season after Burrow’s End is a long-awaited return home to the flagship: Fantasy High Junior Year. Let’s hope this reminds the channel where they came from, and what magic they are capable of making when they keep it simple.

#long post #d20 spoilers #burrows end spoilers #d20 tag

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tsaomengde · 3 months

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The Ones Who Found The City

Ursula K. LeGuin's "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" is a classic short story, and obviously I knew of it, but I'd never actually read it until recently. Well, I finally got around to it, and as many timeless classics do, it got stuck in my brain. This story is my - response? homage? sequel? pale imitation? - to it. I suggest you go and read "The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas" if you haven't. Not because it's actually required reading for this story - I think it stands on its own more or less okay - but because it is a classic for a reason.

---

Initially, no one is quite certain of what they’ve found when the Animus breaches the next manifold layer. This is in and of itself expected, of course. Exploring psychspace is by its very nature an unpredictable venture. Each of the various infinite layers is unique and bizarre in its own way, reflecting the archetypal underpinnings of an entire species present, past, or future across an infinitude of possible realities. The crew of the Animus, therefore, has seen things so utterly alien and inexplicable that only the rigors of their training and the care put into their psychic warding saved them from insanity.

It is somewhat disappointing, then, to find that this sub-domain is just a city. Definitely not Terranic, certainly not, but still following the Terranic modality, with no more than a seven-degree quantum drift.

“Towers,” Thromby says into the recorder as they sit at their post at the nose of the Animus’s command center. “Following the standard skyscrape pattern. Unclear if they’re domiciles or business centers or both. Coastal city, bay appears to be oceanic rather than lake. Pleasing blend of urbanization with natural setting.” They glance at Vigil. “Anything on the lifescope?”

Vigil shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s empty. Totally empty.”

“That’s odd,” Katrina speaks up from the helm. “The city doesn’t show signs of decay or reclamation by nature.”

“Entropy may not work in the usual way in this sub-domain,” Teasha reminds her. “The city itself could be the natural growth, reclaiming the artificial countryside. We’ve seen things like that before.”

Thromby feels Katrina’s unconscious bristling at the subtle reminder that she is the newest member of the crew and thus less experienced in the vagaries of psychspace than everyone else. Next to Vigil, who is only nineteen, she is also the youngest. “I would expect,” Katrina says, her voice cool, “that in a sub-domain so obviously based on human archetypes, entropy and nature-versus-civilization tropes would function more or less as usual.”

“I’m certain you would,” Teasha replies, her voice equally cool. “When you’ve been at this as long as me and Thromby, you’ll learn better.”

“Enough of that,” Thromby says before Katrina can reply. They love Teasha, but she tends to be too harsh on new crewmembers. A defense mechanism, they know, to insulate her from the all-too-common pain of losing them. But Katrina has too much to prove. The clash is natural and to be expected, and even useful at times, but now is not one of them. “Vigil, get me readings on atmosphere, microbiome, and psychic radiation, if any. Katrina, pick a spot on the coast and bring us down there. I want to see if the ocean is actually an ocean or a liminality representation. Teasha, get the Animus tuning to this sub-domain’s resonance frequency. I don’t want any dissociation issues.”

The orders are mostly unnecessary, since everyone already knows what they’re about, but they serve their intended purpose, which is to re-focus everyone on the task at hand and redirect their nervous energies, particularly Katrina’s. Thromby still isn’t sure she’s going to make the cut after this expedition is over, but there’s potential there. They would be foolish to ignore someone with Katrina’s strength of identity grounding.

There are plenty of sub-domains out there where it’s useful to be entirely certain of who you are, and not everyone can be.

---

The first day’s worth of exploration yields more questions than answers, which is normal and expected. Thromby is indeed certain that Katrina’s initial assumption that this is a human-archetypal sub-domain is correct. Human atmosphere, human shadow- and ontological concepts, Terranic fish in the very-real ocean. But the iconography is sparse and mostly nonsensical. It’s clear that the city was able to actually function as a city, but it feels purposeful, designed, in a way that actual cities outside psychspace rarely do.

“It’s a metaphor,” Vigil says as they sit around a campfire on the beach after the first day.

“Well, obviously,” Katrina agrees, and Vigil lights up – both visibly and psychically – at her concordance. Thromby knows Vigil has been nursing burgeoning feelings for Katrina since she joined them, and has so far seen no need to make anything of it. “But a metaphor for what?”

“We don’t have enough data,” Vigil replies. “But I’m certain of it. We just need to keep exploring.”

Thromby takes a bite of the fish they’ve been roasting over the fire. It’s a pleasant change of pace to be able to eat something real, instead of the platonic nourishment suggestions dispensed by the Animus. “Agreed. I’m curious to see what the point of this place was. We have five more days before we have to resurface and the expedition has been quite successful already. I think we can spare the time. Teasha?”

Taking a bite of her own fish, Teasha purses her lips as she chews. “I concur, but I’m uneasy.”

Teasha is their psychometry specialist, so this makes all of them sit up a little straighter. “Are we in danger?” Katrina asks.

“Of course we’re in danger, we’re in psychspace. But in this particular sub-domain? Metaphorical danger, as Vigil says. Ideological or memetic patterning rather than physical.”

Thromby nods. “I suspected that might be the axis of it, here. We will need to split up to cover the necessary ground in the time we have left, so everyone stays in contact while exploring. Mechanical and psychic. No exceptions.”

None of them are particularly happy with this pronouncement, but they see the wisdom of it. It’s distracting and somewhat draining to keep a four-way psychic connection going, especially over distance, but their implanted transceivers sometimes don’t function properly, depending on the sub-domain. Electromagnetism and causality both seem to be standard here, but such things have been known to change in an instant depending on whether the sub-domain is actively malicious or not.

Thromby doesn’t feel any such malice here, though. That doesn’t mean it isn’t present; such things are often quite good at hiding themselves. But they’ve been exploring psychspace for seventy-eight years subjective. They’ve learned to trust their instincts.

---

Two more days of exploration are frustratingly unrevealing. The city is the size of a proper metropolis, and they know it will be impossible to actually explore any significant percentage of it in only a few days, but Thromby is still irritated by their lack of progress. They find evidence of cultural signifiers, rituals, and traditions, but again, the iconography is vague and appears opaque to standard Jungian-Jingweian analysis.

Teasha spends the two days on a different investigative track than the rest of them. “Psychometrically speaking the city is remarkably healthy,” she said on the morning of their second day. “Most locations, metaphorical or otherwise, bear the echoes of trauma or strife, but this place seems to have been almost entirely peaceful. Totally voluntary anarcho-communism or ordnung-socialism, perhaps, without the usual markers of systemic violence inherent to capitalistic or fascistic systems. But there’s a thread somewhere that I keep detecting the edges of.”

“A thread of what?” Thromby asked.

“Pain, of course.”

It is on the evening of their third day in the city that Teasha calls them to her. She uses their transceiver link rather than a psychic summons. “To avoid contamination,” she explains. “I’ve found the source of the thread. Double your usual wardings and enter seclusive patterning before you come inside.”

Thromby does so, of course, though they dislike cutting themselves off from their extrasensory perception. It feels like trying to see with only one eye. When they arrive at Teasha’s location, however, they immediately understand why she insisted on it. The possibility of psychic contamination here is very high.

“What is this?” Katrina asks, holding her nose in disgust.

“The point of the metaphor, of course,” Teasha replies. She indicates the filthy cellar in which they’ve found themselves, the only part of the city so far that has seemed actively decrepit. “I guarantee you that even if we spent the rest of our lives exploring this city we would find only this one place showing any signs of entropy.”

The cellar stinks of excrement, a combination of ammonia and fetid shit, despite the physical processes creating such smells having terminated long ago. The floor is dirt. There are no windows. In one corner there are two mops, their heads stiff with drying waste, and a bucket, the metal bands around its circumference orange with rust.

“They concentrated all of the city’s entropy into a single space?” Vigil asks.

“Not entropy,” Teasha tells him. “Cruelty.”

Katrina gapes, her hand falling away from her nose for a moment. “Come again?”

“Something lived here,” Teasha explains to her. “Or, more precisely, was forced to live here. It functioned as a psychic magnet, of sorts. The functioning of the city relied entirely upon its imprisonment and use as a scapegoat.”

“What was it?” Vigil asks.

“One of the innocence-sacrifice archetypes. An animal or a child. I suspect a child; an animal can feel pain and misery, certainly, but it doesn’t conceive of injustice in the same way a child does.”

Thromby feels their stomach turn a little. “Ah. I see.”

“See what?” Katrina demands.

“The point of the metaphor indeed,” Thromby replies. “This entire city and all its inhabitants, predicated on the suffering on a child. It’s a morality construct, and a good one, too.”

“A good one?” Vigil asks. “It’s grotesque.”

“Your deontological leanings are showing,” Katrina tells him. “From a utilitarian perspective it’s perfect. Nothing exists without imposing an energy burden on the system in which it exists. Even the nourishment suggestions the Animus feeds us in liminal space between manifolds is distilled from universal krill. But this? The concentration of all of a society’s utility burden onto a single individual. The ultimate maximization principle.”

“And your teleological leanings are showing,” Teasha sniffs. “You’re missing the point of the metaphor entirely, Katrina. It isn’t about utility. It’s about cruelty. The cruelty is the point.”

Katrina’s nostrils flare and Thromby cuts in before she can start really arguing. “Enough,” they say. “A conflict here in this space could be dangerous. We’re at the focus of the sub-domain and things have a way of rippling. We’ve discovered the point of the metaphor, so we can go back to the Animus and leave in the morning.”

Both Katrina and Teasha look ready to argue the point with them, but then they master themselves and both nod.

“Do we have to wait until morning?” Vigil asks, looking around the cellar in transparent disgust. “I would prefer to leave sooner rather than later.”

“You know the rules,” Thromby replies. “We don’t transit without everyone being rested. A tired mind is a vulnerable mind.”

Reluctantly, Vigil nods, too. The four of them walk away from the cellar, their thoughts opaque to one another.

---

Thromby is jolted out of sleep by Teasha screaming.

They sit bolt upright and look down at Teasha in the bed next to them. She is clutching at her head, shaking, writhing beneath the sheets. “Teasha!” Thromby snaps. “Focus! Center yourself!” They grab her by the wrists and pry her hands from her face; her nails are leaving bloody marks in her skin.

“Too much, it’s too much!” she shrieks. “I’m lost!”

Thromby forces their way into her mind. She previously gave them her consent for this, knowing that it might be necessary in a moment like this one. What they see there –

“Aquinas,” they say aloud. The implants in Teasha’s cochlear nerves pick up on the trigger word and activate, sending the kill-signal to other implants deeper within her brain. She stops screaming and slumps, unconscious, temporarily brain-dead. When Thromby says the word again she will be switched back on, but for the moment she is safe from the psychic contamination that was attacking her along her psychometric vector.

Which, of course, means that Thromby has to deal with this issue alone.

They dress quickly and exit the Animus into a beautiful summer day. Pennants and banners wave atop the rigging of ships in the harbor, bells sound from the city, and people, so many people, cavort and revel on the beach, in the waves, in the streets. There is laughter, merriment, the intoxicating psychic swell of happiness and excitement. Thromby threads their way through the crowds in the streets – mothers carrying their infants, children running through the streets in elaborate games of some variation of Terran tag, huge parades of horse-drawn carts with animalistic balloon totems floating in the air above them. Vendors call out to Thromby, offering delicious food, intricately made jewelry, amazing clockwork-mechanical toys, sensory-enhancing drugs, and a thousand other variegated temptations. Street musicians play upon cunningly crafted instruments – strings, pipes, percussion, keys – and revelers cavort to the tunes.

Thromby can feel the bright sparks of all of these people in their mind. These are real, thinking, feeling beings. They belong to the metaphor, certainly, but Thromby could speak to them, touch them, verify their self-consciousness and interiority, even invite them to come and join them onboard the Animus and explore psychspace. They could bring them up into the real, return home with them, have a life with them. That is how it has to be, of course. Thromby knows they themself may belong to a different metaphor of a different order, after all. The real is only real because enough people agree it is.

But they do none of these things. They just walk, stolidly, back to where they know they have to go.

Katrina is waiting for them outside the cellar, barring the way in. Thromby has their wards up at triple strength and has been in seclusive patterning since before leaving the Animus, but they don’t need to be psychic to read her mind. Everything she is feeling and thinking is there in plain sight – the proud and defiant way her chin is thrust out, the blaze in her eyes, the way she has her arms crossed and feet at shoulder width. She is ready to fight.

“Let me through,” Thromby says without preamble.

“No.”

Well, that’s their respective positions, Thromby thinks, articulated clearly and easily enough. “Why not?” they ask.

“Vigil consented.”

“Vigil is in love with you and you know as well as I do that consent is a matter of framing,” Thromby snaps. “Move.”

“No. I explained everything to him and he consented. It has nothing to do with whatever feelings he might have for me.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it, but fine. For the sake of argument, tell me how you explained it.”

Katrina hesitates, and Thromby can tell she wasn’t expecting them to actually offer her a chance to proselytize. “The point of the metaphor is that no matter how great and beautiful the society, if it’s predicated on cruelty, it’s unjust,” she says. “Deontological thinking, obviously, but cruelty is by definition nonconsensual. I explained to Vigil that if he allowed it, we could collaboratively put blocks in his mind, purposefully regress him to a childlike mental state, and put him in the cellar to suffer for a specific length of time. Then we can pull him back out, remove the blocks, and even erase the memories of the trauma. The child-Vigil won’t, can’t, consent, but it also won’t exist for more than a day, and pragmatically speaking never will have.”

Thromby massages their temples. “Congratulations. Once again, you have missed the point of the metaphor.”

“Damnit, Thromby, I’m not a child! I have the same training and grounding in theory that you and Teasha do. Everything I’m doing is teleologically sound, and Vigil agreed that with the steps we’re taking –”

“You’re trying to outsmart it,” Thromby cuts her off. “That’s how I know you’ve missed the point. You can’t outsmart this, Katrina. There is no perfect set of circumstances you can construct to get around the simple fact that this city functions, exists, because of deliberate and terrible cruelty. That’s the entire point of it, just like Teasha said. Teasha, who, by the way, is currently in a coma. I had to put her into it to keep Vigil’s misery from damaging her.”

“It’s a thought experiment,” she argues, obviously not addressing the point about Teasha because she knows she won’t win that argument. “There’s always a correct answer for them. The trolley, the Gettier, the –”

“It’s about fucking sin,” Thromby sighs.

“Are you joking right now? You’re going back to the religious well?”

“Yes, because that’s what’s happening right now. The city is a sin, Katrina. The excesses of its beauty, its wonder, its perfection, are obscene precisely because of how and why they function. It’s rooted in the ideology of disgust and taint. Utility, teleology, all of these justifications and rationalizations exist and have their use, but at the end of the day, answer me one question: will you trade places with Vigil?”

Katrina hesitates.

It’s only a bare moment, less than a second, even, but it’s there. And Thromby sees it, and Katrina sees it.

“Yes,” she says, finally.

“I knew that would be your answer. But you know that the answer doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Katrina lowers her head. “No.”

“You know why you hesitated.”

“Yes.” She looks back up at them. “But – there’s no such thing as absolute morality, any more than there’s a single objective reality.”

“Of course there isn’t. And yet, you hesitated.”

They just lock eyes for a few seconds. Then she lowers her gaze again. “And yet, I did.”

Thromby steps past her and opens the cellar.

#writing #my writing #story #short story #short stories #creative writing #omelas #the ones who walk away from omelas #ursula k leguin #leguin #science fiction #sci fi #sci-fi

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amputeewomen · 3 months

Text

Magical amputee

In the heart of a bustling metropolis, where the hum of the city blended with the whispers of the unseen, lived two friends bound by a secret—the existence of magic. Ashley, a spirited urban explorer with an unquenchable thirst for adrenaline, had always been fascinated by the covert world of spells and enchantments her friend Mia, a modern-day mage, navigated with ease.

Mia, with her cool demeanor and an apartment cluttered with arcane books and technological gadgets, had long promised to introduce Ashley to the art of magic, a promise that had been postponed by the chaos of city life. It wasn't until one seemingly ordinary afternoon, in Mia's high-rise sanctuary, that the promise would be demanded in an unexpected way.

Eager to showcase a newly mastered spell, Mia inadvertently altered the course of their lives. With a few whispered incantations and a misplaced flick of her wrist, she cast a transmutation spell that, to their shock, left Ashley with only one leg. The other had vanished, spirited away by forces they could barely comprehend. The sophisticated aluminum forearm crutches that Ashley now had to rely on felt cold and unyielding—a far cry from the freedom she was accustomed to.

Anger bubbled within Ashley, a fiery contrast to the cool, steel touch of her new supports. "Mia," she said, her voice sharp as a blade, "you better make this right. Teach me magic, for real this time. I want to be able to fix this myself."

Mia, her confidence shaken, knew the weight of her responsibility. The spell wouldn't reverse for four weeks, a period that felt like a lifetime to Ashley. Mia agreed, her guilt fueling a newfound determination to fulfill her overdue promise.

And so, amidst the glow of neon lights and the endless thrum of city life, Ashley began her journey into the world of magic. It was no easy task; the arcane books were dense, filled with esoteric knowledge that twisted the tongue and boggled the mind. Mia guided her through ancient spells, teaching her the delicate balance between the mystical and the mundane.

With each passing day, Ashley's frustration turned to fascination. She learned to harness her inner energy, to manipulate the elements, and to understand the language of the universe. The crutches, once a symbol of her limitation, became a part of her learning, as she used them in her magical exercises, balancing and moving with a grace she hadn't known before.

Ashley's anger faded, replaced by a sense of empowerment and an appreciation for Mia's world. The accident had been a catalyst for growth, pushing her into realms she had only dreamed of. By the time the four weeks had passed and her leg returned as if by magic—because, of course, it was—Ashley had transformed. She was no longer just an adrenaline junkie urban explorer; she was a mage in her own right, a master of her own story.

As for Mia, she had learned the gravest lesson of all—the consequences of her actions in the tapestry of fate. But she had also gained a true equal, a partner in magic, and their bond had grown unbreakable.

Together, Ashley and Mia stepped into the future, a future where magic and the metropolitan were intertwined, and their adventures were just beginning.

As the moon crested over the skyline of the city, Ashley and Mia, now comrades in the mystical arts, ventured beyond the concrete jungle to a place where modern GPS maps faltered and the ley lines of the old world held sway. There, cloaked by the lush embrace of the wild, lay the ruins of an ancient magical civilization, whispered about in obscure tomes and hushed tones in the backrooms of esoteric bookshops.

The ruins, remnants of a bygone era where magic flowed as freely as water, were said to contain a pool—a sanctum of pure mana, unspoiled by time. With the night sky as their canopy, the pair navigated the underbrush until the ruins rose before them, bathed in the silver light of the moon. Vines clung to weathered stone, and the air was thick with the power that pulsed through the remnants of archaic spells.

The pool, nestled at the heart of the ruins, glimmered like a jewel in the night. It was said that the waters were infused with the essence of the earth's veins, capable of rejuvenating the magic within any who bathed in its depths.

With a shared glance, Ashley and Mia shed the trappings of the city and entered the waters. The pool embraced Ashley, its magic compensating for her temporary loss, allowing her to swim with a freedom that defied her condition. The water was not just a physical balm but a wellspring of arcane energy that soaked into their very beings, replenishing the mana that flowed through their veins.

As they swam, the boundaries between them, once defined by mentor and pupil, blurred into something more profound. Laughter echoed off the ancient stones, a sound as timeless as the magic that surrounded them. In the water, under the gaze of the constellations that had witnessed millennia pass, they found themselves drawn to each other by a force as natural and powerful as the ley lines beneath their feet.

The water seemed to recognize the burgeoning bond, glowing with a soft luminescence that reflected the light of their souls. And in that moment, Ashley considered the possibility of prolonging her magical ailment. The thought of remaining an amputee, if it meant continuing to explore the depths of this newfound connection with Mia, wasn't as daunting as it once might have been. The transformation had, after all, led her here—to magic, to Mia, to a love she hadn't anticipated.

Their time in the pool was both an eternity and a fleeting instant, a paradox befitting the mystique of the ruins. When they finally emerged, it was with a sense of renewal, both in magic and in heart. The crutches, which lay beside the pool, seemed less like a shackle and more like a bridge—a bridge that had carried Ashley to this point in her journey.

The ruins, once silent and waiting, now played host to the whispers of a new story, one that intertwined Ashley and Mia's destinies. As they left the sanctity of the pool and the embrace of the ancient stones, they carried with them the warmth of shared affection and the quiet promise of tomorrow's magic.

The city awaited their return, a canvas for their adventures, both arcane and intimate. But the ruins and the pool remained, a testament to their journey, ready to welcome them back whenever they sought the tranquility and power found in its waters. The magic of the place had woven itself into their tale, a thread of the old world in the tapestry of the new, binding them together in ways they were only just beginning to understand.

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