Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
Look I'm gonna be honest here. Girl boss War Criminals are extremely simp-able. Just look at the fire emblem fandom.
Good Drones Obey: Communism and Kink in Post-Revolutionary America
- Thread starter RiverDelta
- Start date
- Mature Timeline Future
Look I'm gonna be honest here. Girl boss War Criminals are extremely simp-able. Just look at the fire emblem fandom.
- Location
- Back in the 90s (In a very famous TV show)
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Thank you so much! Mind if I ask if there's any characters or updates you've especially liked! I'm so glad you're enjoying it!
Yeah, that is fair. I guess I'm just afraid that making Calliope Anderson simp-able might undercut the story?
Parzival
They shall not pass. We shall overcome.
- Location
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#CalliopeDidNothingWrong
#HardWomanMakingHardDecisions
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My God, that is cursed.
Half Moon
In the end, there is no end.
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Hii! I've been hanging around with otherkin for the past few years!
Otherkin tend to specifically identify as one or more nonhuman beings. A lot of them believe that in some spiritual sense they are, or were, their kintype, but for some of them it's purely psychological; they identify as a creature and that's that.
They get treated as a meme by a lot of people, but otherkin in general aren't a joke. People are pretty shitty about the whole thing.
I don't know quite so much about voidpunk, but my impression is it's more focused on inhumanity as a theme, and is more idealogical and aesthetic. There is plenty of overlap, though.
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Thank you for the explanation! TBH, I mostly based some of those scenes on my own feelings, which I don't really identify strongly with any extant community, but I appreciate the context!
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I'll definitely have to explore that! Are you more interested in the roleplay aspect of it, or the real-world occultism side of it? Or are you hoping to see an even mix of both?
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The 'wider' looks at the world are fun, and I'm honestly curious how the 'USA sphere' countries (UK, Australia, etc) are coping with the loss of Big Nuclear Capitalism Daddy.
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Thanks! Which updates do you mean for wider looks, just as examples?
Oh, and we know that Canada is currently in civil war. Australia and the UK are still around, at least. I do want to keep this mostly focused on America as much as I can, but I can definitely say that there's a lot of autarky attempts and reaction going on there, as well as various upheavals in places where it'd be warranted.
What the fuck did I just read? And why did I read all of it?
It reads like everyone in this fic, including the author and me is on... I wanna say LSD but probably MDMA ?
Good Job Author. Also may your pillow always be slightly too warm on both ends.
It reads like everyone in this fic, including the author and me is on... I wanna say LSD but probably MDMA ?
Good Job Author. Also may your pillow always be slightly too warm on both ends.
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Wait, should I feel hurt by this? I'm not sure if it was meant to be an exaggerated and comical joke or an actual insult. While I understand that it's a very weird premise for a story, I do try and put legitimate effort into it.
I'm autistic and bad at telling some social cues, so my apologies if I missed something.
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Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
I think it's just someone one not familiar with the political ideas behind your work and who therefore finds the setting difficult to grok.
"I read all of it anyway" is, if anything, a compliment.
Update 21: The Fine Line Between Self-Control and Self-Abuse
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"Author's Notes": When I was a teenager, I spent a bit over a month in a psych ward halfway across the country. I've tried to remember that experience in as much detail as I can, doing additional research whenever I found it necessary, but if I get anything wrong it's because that was about a decade ago. I apologize to anyone who's had a long term stay in a treatment facility who might have any issues with this update. Nonetheless, it's dear and personal to me, and I hope that I can use that experience to create a respectful depiction of a psychiatric facility. There is a sequence referencing a podcast, and that podcast's characters in my memory helped me in a later three-day stay in a psych ward to stay connected with myself.
CW: General psychiatric facility things, mental health struggles, implied suicide prevention tactics (no suicides or suicidality will be shown).
Lottie Cross woke up in bed reaching for a bottle of scotch that wasn't there. She wore a Johnny Cash t-shirt and spotted pajama pants. The Traveler Driscoll Neuropsychiatric Center in Seattle had been created a mere five years ago and only four years after the end of the Second American Civil War. The beds felt more or less like cheap hotel rooms. Lottie put her shoes on. They'd taken the laces out of the shoes.
Apparently people tried to strangle themselves with those.
Lottie wouldn't've. If she wanted to be dead, she would have blown her brains out with her 9mm. She reached for a pre-Revolutionary comic book called The Adventures of the Red Defender. She chuckled as she flipped through the pages, looking at the bad DSA catchphrases and whatever the hell the indigenous person was supposed to be. Then, she heard a knock at the door. It was funny. Usually in the FBI she was the one knocking.
She dog-eared a page and went to open the door. There, she saw one of the orderlies, Marco. "Time for your meds, Lottie," he said, holding a cup of soda from the cafeteria in his hand. She nodded. "Thanks." She went to the med desk and got her medication. A lot of the meds were harder to get these days, but all she needed was Parox (formerly Paxil). She took it with water from the sink behind the desk, then went to her morning group.
The Driscoll Center got all kinds, and as Lottie sat down at the large table in the middle of Group Room A, she saw a bespectacled girl and a messy-haired blonde. She recognized both as just as new as her. The therapist, one Dr. Haverford, sat on the edge of the round thing with everyone else.
Dr. Haverford set his fingers on the table, adjusting his tie. "Now, welcome to morning group. I see we have some new people, so can everyone say their names? In a circle, please," he said, motioning for the person at his right to speak first.
"Merle Albertson."
"Magnus Fisk."
"Lucretia Donner."
"Carey Lewis."
"Lydia Maximovich."
"Transistor Pernet."
"Lottie Cross."
"Edward Maximovich."
"Alexandra Hernandez."
"Chris Foley."
"Kendra Oswald, and frankly, I should be in rehab. Probably a way nicer rehab than this psych ward. Like Passages Malibu or something."
Dr. Haverford spoke. "Kendra, let's stick to our names, please? I'm Dr. James Haverford. Now, Transistor, Lottie, Kendra, and Alexandra, why don't you tell us an interesting fact about yourselves?" He stroked his beard idly.
Transistor spoke. "You want an interesting fact? I tried to jump off a six-story roof because I thought it'd let me fly, and I did that because I keep myself constantly high to keep from feeling this crushing sense of self-obliteration. Is that interesting enough for you?"
"Sounds like someone's dealing with withdrawal," Lydia said in a haughty tone.
"Lottie?" Dr. Haverford asked.
"Well, um, I don't really have any interesting facts," Lottie said. "I guess the closest one is that I'm a Reaganite conservative, a trans woman, and I fought for the Reds during the war. People find those three things to be contradictory, which I think is BS."
Haverford nodded. "That's interesting, I myself fought for the Reds. Kendra, how about you?"
"Oh, I don't know, how about 'My name is Kendra Oswald, and I was the fourth highest paid director in Hollywood history'? Or, maybe, 'I'm Kendra Oswald, the woman who turned the steaming pile of shit that was the MCU into artistic gold with Iron Girl'?Oh, or what about 'I'm Kendra Oswald, the woman who actually made Goncharov!' Is that interesting for you? Am I interesting, James?"
"That does sound interesting," Dr. Haverford said in a neutral tone.
Lydia made another disruptive comment about withdrawal, and Haverford silenced her. "Please, let's keep this group supportive. Alexandra, please tell us one interesting fact about yourself?"
"Special Agent Lottie Cross threatened to shoot me in the leg if I didn't confess to domestic terrorism I never did," Alexandra said. The entire room stared at Lottie.
"...You know what? I'm not going to try and justify that, or explain why I had to. I didn't. I always had a choice in the FBI. I spent a while in Portland, and I did end up doing that to Alexandra. I'm deeply, deeply sorry. I can't ever take that back. It's an evil job, and I deserve all these stares. I promise you that I won't ever hurt you like that again, and that if you ever need anything from me, I'll give it. Even if it's just a face to punch."
"James, I think that'd be therapeutic," Alexandra said.
"I'm up for it," Lottie said. "I was a real piece of shit. Maybe I still am."
"We're all pieces of shit," Transistor said. "Look, at least you're not in the rehab program."
Lottie turned to Haverford. "Could we make that happen?"
"Sure," he said.
"Please don't put the self-admitted psycho cop into more of my groups," Kendra said.
Lottie sighed. She got through the group responding to Haverford's questions without thinking. All she could think about was the bullet wounds she got. Did they mean anything? Had she just exchanged one set of targets for another?
She was already regretting volunteering for the rehab program.
CW: General psychiatric facility things, mental health struggles, implied suicide prevention tactics (no suicides or suicidality will be shown).
Lottie Cross woke up in bed reaching for a bottle of scotch that wasn't there. She wore a Johnny Cash t-shirt and spotted pajama pants. The Traveler Driscoll Neuropsychiatric Center in Seattle had been created a mere five years ago and only four years after the end of the Second American Civil War. The beds felt more or less like cheap hotel rooms. Lottie put her shoes on. They'd taken the laces out of the shoes.
Apparently people tried to strangle themselves with those.
Lottie wouldn't've. If she wanted to be dead, she would have blown her brains out with her 9mm. She reached for a pre-Revolutionary comic book called The Adventures of the Red Defender. She chuckled as she flipped through the pages, looking at the bad DSA catchphrases and whatever the hell the indigenous person was supposed to be. Then, she heard a knock at the door. It was funny. Usually in the FBI she was the one knocking.
She dog-eared a page and went to open the door. There, she saw one of the orderlies, Marco. "Time for your meds, Lottie," he said, holding a cup of soda from the cafeteria in his hand. She nodded. "Thanks." She went to the med desk and got her medication. A lot of the meds were harder to get these days, but all she needed was Parox (formerly Paxil). She took it with water from the sink behind the desk, then went to her morning group.
The Driscoll Center got all kinds, and as Lottie sat down at the large table in the middle of Group Room A, she saw a bespectacled girl and a messy-haired blonde. She recognized both as just as new as her. The therapist, one Dr. Haverford, sat on the edge of the round thing with everyone else.
Dr. Haverford set his fingers on the table, adjusting his tie. "Now, welcome to morning group. I see we have some new people, so can everyone say their names? In a circle, please," he said, motioning for the person at his right to speak first.
"Merle Albertson."
"Magnus Fisk."
"Lucretia Donner."
"Carey Lewis."
"Lydia Maximovich."
"Transistor Pernet."
"Lottie Cross."
"Edward Maximovich."
"Alexandra Hernandez."
"Chris Foley."
"Kendra Oswald, and frankly, I should be in rehab. Probably a way nicer rehab than this psych ward. Like Passages Malibu or something."
Dr. Haverford spoke. "Kendra, let's stick to our names, please? I'm Dr. James Haverford. Now, Transistor, Lottie, Kendra, and Alexandra, why don't you tell us an interesting fact about yourselves?" He stroked his beard idly.
Transistor spoke. "You want an interesting fact? I tried to jump off a six-story roof because I thought it'd let me fly, and I did that because I keep myself constantly high to keep from feeling this crushing sense of self-obliteration. Is that interesting enough for you?"
"Sounds like someone's dealing with withdrawal," Lydia said in a haughty tone.
"Lottie?" Dr. Haverford asked.
"Well, um, I don't really have any interesting facts," Lottie said. "I guess the closest one is that I'm a Reaganite conservative, a trans woman, and I fought for the Reds during the war. People find those three things to be contradictory, which I think is BS."
Haverford nodded. "That's interesting, I myself fought for the Reds. Kendra, how about you?"
"Oh, I don't know, how about 'My name is Kendra Oswald, and I was the fourth highest paid director in Hollywood history'? Or, maybe, 'I'm Kendra Oswald, the woman who turned the steaming pile of shit that was the MCU into artistic gold with Iron Girl'?Oh, or what about 'I'm Kendra Oswald, the woman who actually made Goncharov!' Is that interesting for you? Am I interesting, James?"
"That does sound interesting," Dr. Haverford said in a neutral tone.
Lydia made another disruptive comment about withdrawal, and Haverford silenced her. "Please, let's keep this group supportive. Alexandra, please tell us one interesting fact about yourself?"
"Special Agent Lottie Cross threatened to shoot me in the leg if I didn't confess to domestic terrorism I never did," Alexandra said. The entire room stared at Lottie.
"...You know what? I'm not going to try and justify that, or explain why I had to. I didn't. I always had a choice in the FBI. I spent a while in Portland, and I did end up doing that to Alexandra. I'm deeply, deeply sorry. I can't ever take that back. It's an evil job, and I deserve all these stares. I promise you that I won't ever hurt you like that again, and that if you ever need anything from me, I'll give it. Even if it's just a face to punch."
"James, I think that'd be therapeutic," Alexandra said.
"I'm up for it," Lottie said. "I was a real piece of shit. Maybe I still am."
"We're all pieces of shit," Transistor said. "Look, at least you're not in the rehab program."
Lottie turned to Haverford. "Could we make that happen?"
"Sure," he said.
"Please don't put the self-admitted psycho cop into more of my groups," Kendra said.
Lottie sighed. She got through the group responding to Haverford's questions without thinking. All she could think about was the bullet wounds she got. Did they mean anything? Had she just exchanged one set of targets for another?
She was already regretting volunteering for the rehab program.
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Half Moon
In the end, there is no end.
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Chloe Sullivan
Subdefective
- Location
- 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale CA
This is clearly the best timeline.
Are meds harder to get in the sense that production/logistics have been disrupted, or in the sense that without capitalism, there isn't an incentive to prescribe meds as liberally?
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She wrote the screenplay herself as a pure flight of fancy, and it's incredibly authentic to the Tumblr conception of it. It's one of the few times she was actually kind of thankful that the revolution happened, simply because it allowed her to actually make it.
She was in her late 20s on Tumblr when it was a thing, after all.
Production and logistics have been disrupted. The revolutionary society is generally better, but mass societal collapse and upheaval takes a real toll on things.
Terra Allias
World's only Magical Girl Spec Ops Asuka fan
- Location
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Jokes on her, the internet is probably calling it a remake
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God, they totally are.
The virgin Kendra Oswald: "It's not funny! The joke died years go!"
The chad internet: "Martin Scorsese did it better."
Half Moon
In the end, there is no end.
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Good times, good times.
Definitely not meant to be insulting. (Because, frankly, unless you are writing child porn I won't go out of my way to be insulting, because that's just rude.)
Politics aside (as this is not the place for it) these people have all completely ran out of fucks. Which is amusing.
On one hand you have people pursuing happiness without stepping on others or shoving their issues in peoples faces. (Except of course, the consensual stepping and showing of things, for funzies)
On the other, the sheer amount of implied background atrocity is quite staggering. Like just mass graves amounts it. Sheesh. I get that you can't make a revolutionary omelet without cracking some skull but damn if it's isn't somewhat tragic.
In conclusion, I was definitely amused by all this. And vexed. Both good things since the worst thing you can get as an author is not the emotuional reactions, the worst thing is getting "meh".
The may your pillow be slightly warm on both sides is a curse, but a mild one, reserved for amused exasperation. And usually comes from a good place.
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daedalus725
Kell of Kells, godking of Planet X
- Location
- Daedalus crater, The moon
I've failed you my friend