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cursed-saphire-hart · 3 years

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Its been a minute since I checked out your blog so sorry if you've ale explained this, but I saw your DA and I'm a little confused about Rene and Silk

Rene is referred to as Silk's ecto dad (which I dont know what that means), his brother(?), and his uncle? Why is this? All I know is that it may have something to do with the scratch (which I have a very barebones understanding of) and since I don't know a bunch about home stuck, I was wondering if you could give some kind of explanation?

Oki lemme explain best I can for you. Sorry this is gonna be a long read.

First:

Ectobiology is how the kids are made to begin with. All 8 kids are not naturally created, think test tube babies from si fi movies about clones.

By "Ecto Dad" I mean Rene is Silks genetic father bc Silk was cloned directly from Rene's DNA and one other Alpha kid (haven't decided her name yet) when anyone refers to any of the kids as "Ecto Parents" or "Ecto Siblings" it means it in a more round about genetic way, since they were all cloned rather than given birth to ect.

Rene was created originally (Before the Scratch/Sburbs Hard Reset) to be Silk's guardian, he was created to come to earth first and raise Silk when he was sent to earth years after Rene.

Biologically, Rene is Silks father, and was meant to take om the father role in the Beta timeline, but he found Silk was Beta!Rene was only 22, and wasn't ready to be a "father" so took on the role as "Uncle" (Side note: All guardians are either somewhat or completely aware of the game and their role in it)

Second:

Within the game it's self, Rene takes on the role as older brother to Silk when they meet in the game. Silk and Rene only know each other from their adult counterparts, but still feel the same familiar relation they had pre game.

Rene feels the overwhelming instinctual need to protect Silk (as his Adult version had) while Silk has the need to keep Rene aware and ready for the incoming battle (Again, same as his adult version)

So the two much rather yo view one another as brothers or in a more accurate case, cousins? Since neither can replace the guardian they lost, but still fill the need for a familial connection.

Third:

On the flip side after the hard reset of the game, the roles are swapped. This doesn't mean literally, as in Rene was instead made from Silks DNA, it just means Silk landed on earth before Rene and was given the role as Guardian.

Tho same concept, Silk takes on the role as Uncle rather than Father ect.

And to Clear up:

The reasons both Drag Uncles prefer the title of uncle rather than father.

A Father, atleast my perspective of the role as a title, means someone directly responsible for the child, directly related and directly the role model of said child. Its a big role to fill and one not everyone is ready for.

Big Brother/Older Sibling is similar, but just under father/parent, still directly related and responsible, but to a lesser extent (at least in a family where the parents are actually doing their damn job, BRO STRIDER) but is a role that means if the parent is outta commission, their meant to stand up.

On the other hand, Uncle can been seen as a slightly minor role, while still related, the relation isn't as direct and the responsibility isn't as direct. Thinking about the basic idea of a family, often shown in media or stories, unless the parent is gone, the uncle plays a role of occasional caretaker, and has more minor responsibility when compared to the role of parent.

Which is why both adult counterparts chose to be refered to as Uncle. In a mental way it made the role of caretaker less scary for their still young minds, but still showed they were taking on an important role, and were willing to show their charge all the love in the world even if they weren't ready for the responsibility.

This shows in Beta! Uncle's attempts to prepare Silk while trying to ensure Silk enjoys life by pulling Silk into different activities and interests, to keep him active and building skills. However Beta Uncle did have his moments where he'd overwhelm Silk, or leave Silk alone abruptly for days with a nanny while he was away on "business" which would confuse him greatly. Especially since beta!Uncle couldn't explain what he was doing or why.

This is what caused Silk to grow up more stoic in comparison, while he loved his Uncle, he started pulling away a bit emotionally when entering his teens, seeing that Uncle was keeping things from him and had even started moving them both around after he turned 13. (An attempt to stall the start of the game)

On the flip side:

Alpha! Uncle spoiled Rene for a lot of his childhood in attempts to give him as much happiness as he could before the game could start, causing Rene to be a little disassociated with reality to the point it took his Uncles death to make him realize just how dire the situation was when the game started.

Where Silk had to be harrassed by Hail and even Ritz into playing the game, Rene intentionally started the game and was the one to egg his friends into playing it.

Rene was still put through a lot of activities to give him much needed skills for Strifes, but became rather bratty when training became more intense, leaving him less prepared than Silk, but just as broken up since the last conversation either had with their Uncle before the game started was them arguing with them.

#whoops timeline #homestuck

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chezforshire · 4 years

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Since i literally cannot work on something without blabbing abt it im gonna ramble a bit abt the earth c kids au i have

Rn im doodlin rosemary and davekats kids. Idk yet who gets saddle with a child first but both couples go through dealing with the strilondes fear of becoming their guardians. Karks has his reservations too. Thinks he's too much of an asshole to really rear a kid and being a parent is like being a leader, sorta. Some loser wriggler hangs onto your every word and you try your best to guide em where they should go. Previous experiences have shown him to have failed in that regard so imagine his trepidation over having to do that for longer than a few weeks.

Kan's prolly the only one of em who has her head about with the whole child rearing business bc well she was hatched for this shit ya know

Anyway the kid rosemary has is a maryam descendant and rose just goes 'well, she's sorta ur kid genetically speaking and we're married so she's my kid too ig so... we should raise her????' And they do and she's sweet and smart and terrifying in that she keeps alluding to murdering you if you so much as look at her or her parents wrong. Her name is Astrea Maryam-Lalonde and she loves her moms a whole damn lot and she thinks theyre the absolute shit. She's fascinated with fashion as is the Maryam staple though she only cares abt her appearance if she's being seen by people outside of family. When she's at home she just wears ratty tshirts and shorts or sweatpants that have more than a few holes in it. This makes Kanaya sigh with exasperation and just say 'like mother like daughter' as Rose flops on the couch next to their daughter in clothes under the same state.

Dave loves the shit out of her ofc bc he's a great uncle but also bc she loves drawing a whole buncha shit. Most of the time she draws people so she could slap some sick as shit dresses she designes on them. Dave talks abt SBaHJ w her and she's just That sounds Highly Stupid where can I see it and so they spend an afternoon just talking abt it and she genuinely finds it funny and wonders more than once if one day she could make her own comic. Though hers, no offence to Dave, would be much more serious and plot heavy and maybe gay and has romance bc seriously she's a Maryam-Lalonde have you seen their library? And Dave encourages her abt it and has become her editor/soundboard/ whatever the fuck when she has ideas for stories and makes quick drawings abt it.

Im not set on how davekat gets their kid yet but it's an ectogoop hybrid of the two of them. His name is Kagang Vantas for now bc Dave still hasn't gotten around to marrying Karkat wc is fine bc it's not like it means much to either of them but he does playfully call him husband every now and then. Anyway, the little dude is a human/troll hybrid and don't ask me any questions abt that yet im working on it. He's a bit of a brat but is a nice kid. He's a little hard of hearing so he doesn't always notice his voice but that's fine bc Dirk teaches him sign and makes him some hearing aids that he asks to have customized to look sick as shit when he grows up. He's got a lotta energy and spends a lot of his time playing outside w John, Jade and Jake. He's really attentive too and picks up on tiny details rly fast which makes him pretty great at handling upset ppl. He rly likes music just like Dave and that spurs the god into buying even better acoustics every year so his son can feel the vibrations much better. Contrary to Dave, however, Kagang rly likes classical music mostly bc Rose spent a whole lot of time playing her violin for both him and Astrea. He picks up the instrument too when he grows up and Rose is all too happy teaching him.

Dirk is apprehensive arnd the kid given what he knows of who he can become w Dave but he truly deeply loves the kid. He's distant for a few years and Kagang inevitably thinks it's his fault bc Dave and Karkat are both vry rejection-sensitive people and sadly that got passed down to the kid but dw it takes one to know one so the dads know how to get him through it. Dave talks abt it w Dirk and Dirk is floored bc jesus i was trying to make sure the kid wouldn't feel bad arnd me and fuck whatever i do its just a fuck up huh and Dave just shooshes him and goes bro dude dirkles it's fine you can still work on it. Now u know what's up and why u can work to make a better relationship. I know u love the shit outta my little dude but sometimes that ain't enough. Ya gotta show it through words and actions now come on let's hang out w Kagang and u can slowly mend that bridge. And he does and fuck he /can/ be a good person, these past few years has thought him that, and by fuck will he make sure that his nephew knows that he loves him and cares for him and thinks he's the shit

One can say Kagang and Astrea have a moirailgance but it's a lot more like siblingship rly. They poke fun at each other, mess w each other, would hide a body for the other all that shit. It's a lot like Dave and Rose but w a lot less layers of cool and aloofness to hide the fact that Dork+Dork equals Mega Dork.

#chersonal #homestuck #homestuck ocs #earth c kids au #fsofjridkdifnskfb im too tiredto keep foing sry

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greensconnor · 4 years

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i’m asking about your dragon age characters

molly i would KILL for u im ur personal hitman now

anyway i said my city now because the entire bioware writing team sucks shit xoxo and i’m so much smarter than all of them but also fully incapable of having a normal amount of ocs for anything (see: the time i made 20 rwby ocs in less than two weeks) so i have. five worldstates here r some assorted thoughts

uhhh so the worldstates r as follows

eira mahariel (two-handed berserk/champ spec), rhett hawke (two-handed berserk spec), alas lavellan (mage knight enchanter spec), romanced alistair/fenris/dorian respectively

shiv tabris (dual wield duelist/assassin spec), radella “rads” hawke (mage spirit healer spec), kat adaar (two-handed reaver spec), romanced morrigan/isabela/cassandra respectively because im a pc gamer and i think i should be able to date whatever video game woman i like because im infinitely better than cishet men

this world state said yeah i respect mens rights. mens rights to shut the fuck up

twins bronson (sword/shield reaver spec) & bryant cousland (archer ranger spec), carmine hawke (archer assassin spec), syracuse trevelyan (dual wield tempest spec), romanced zevran/anora/josephine/bull. if ur wondering how that works my city now and the warden, hawke and the inquisitor should all meet and so they do because i Said So

riva amell (mage arcane warrior/battlemage spec), graham “gray” hawke (mage force spec), hellathen “hela” lavellan (archer assassin spec); romanced cullen/anders and later blackwall because hawke only likes men who will break his heart. hela doesn’t have a romance because she’s literally 20. who let her lead the inquisition (me it was me). also it should be noted the version of cullen i have in my head only vaguely resembles actual cullen because i write better than dragon age writers ever could and i gave him an Actual Cohesive Narrative and he gets bullied relentlessly for being scrawnier than his mage boyfriend

malien “mal” surana (mage spirit healer/keeper spec), jules hawke (sword/shield reaver spec), ash adaar (mage rift spec), romanced leliana/merrill/krem because i should have been able to kiss krem and its a Crime that i am not allowed to

knight enchanter is a Very op specialization and by Very op i mean it makes a mage with their built-in low constitution stats able to solo the biggest baddest dragon in the game on nightmare mode in under five minutes so like. alas lavellan fist fights dragons for fun send tweet

i think lavellans should be able to hit ppl with bricks for all the shit they endure. thus solas gets pranked by mahariel and alas by which i mean they just tip buckets of water onto him from the rookery

kat might be my only competent inquisitor but she did also try to knock out the right hand of the divine and attempt to gap even tho there’s fucky magic burning up her hand so does she have a brain cell? you decide

also its fantasy land and i do what i want so kat has blue/gold sectoral heterochromia

gray “mage rights” hawke is best friends with fenris which surprises literally everyone. their friendship started because they got into a fist fight and then they were like okay i respect u now. hawke is like hey fenris give me ur sword i have a fun trick to show u [uses his sword as a foci to zap carver in the ass with lightning]

i am Always thinking abt like how cullen could have been one man anti-chantry propaganda machine if he hadn’t so blatantly been shoehorned into every game past origins so anyway bioware forgot about a wholeass moon i can write what i like. [holds up cullen by the scruff of his stupid armor] not only are you bisexual you are also a bottom

i also Hate the whole uwu mage haters get fixed by romancing a mage

unlocked secret dialogue option where my inquisitors verbally cuss out dorian’s dad instead of whatever sympathetic narrative the writers were going for cuz its bullshit.

riva is a showoff and a Menace about being as good as he is because he unabashedly loves being a mage and hes like oooh look at me im sexy i dont need to use my hands to cast magic because i’m just that good ;)) and you know what. hes right.

gray, on the other hand, does Not want to be mage. he wants to be a druffalo farmer and retire in the hinterlands and be left the fuck alone. unfortunately he is gay and has one brain cell and terrible, terrible taste in men. ribbed relentlessly for this by riva (altho does he have room to talk hes been hung up on cullen since he was like 13)

shiv is trans n kieran is the result of doing the dark ritual with her wife and he looks a Lot like shiv (dark skin pointed ears, shock-white hair) and morrigan always just Assumed she dyed it or did something magic with it so seeing their kid come out like that was a WEIRD time for her

leliana almost Murdered by cassandra in worldstate 5 because the warden is Actually There The Whole Time, but its been 10 years, mal’s cut off all her hair and gotten full facial tattoos and she’s like “no one will know its me its fine” and she’s right. she gets away with it. only cullen like, Knows, because he knew her before the blight but he doesnt have a death wish n he like. will Not piss her off

shes dalish by birth n she was stolen from her clan by templars and thus is vehemently anti-circle and anti-chantry in general

uhhh the vallaslin (elf face tattoos) of my 4 dalish characters are:

eira = ghilan’nain (chose em cuz shes rlly interested in the navigation aspect of the goddess)

alas = falon’din (god of the dead n he picked them because he’s Also the god of fortune and alas is like tee hee fun but also he can and will kill u if u fuck with him so yk its fitting)

hela = june (god of the craft bc she likes to Make things but june is also the god who taught the elves 2 hunt and hela is. a hunter.)

mal = elgar’nan (allfather/god of vengeance bc. she is Vengeful. she is Angry. but yk fucking with shem politics and fucking their divine is like. mal may have little a retribution. as a treat.) yes she has the full half-face solid colour tattoo she does NOT fuck around.

bronson and bryant r not genetically identical but they Look similar enough 2 anyone who doesn’t know them well enough 2 play spot the distance. anora and bronson think this is a super fun game to play, especially when nobles realize they’ve swapped out the king but they’re too nervous to say anything

eira mahariel has two hands. one is for holding hands with alistair and the other is for throttling elven gods, apparently. she’s killed one before so solas she’s coming for your bitch ass next. watch urself.

speaking of eira and alistair are married thru dalish tradition and humans don’t recognize it n alistair loves 2 re-propose to her with random things. he’ll just pick up like. a bit of cheese and be like “marry me ;)” and she’s like GASP but whatever will the chantry say!!!! all of their friends r sick of them

“vhenan if you love me bring me a sword” “you think i could do better than a sword made out of space rock?” “:)”

eira is my youngest hero at 18 at the start of her game and kat is my oldest at 32 at the start of her game.

none of my hawkes are under six foot. rhett is the tallest (6′8″) and rads is the shortest (6′2″).

syracuse trevelyan would have been the Perfect inquisitor if he were not a pretty boy himbo and a gay bastard who does Most Things just to spite his parents.

[corypheus pointing at syracuse’s visage in his crystal orb thingo] i want that twink obliterated

i love the companions from older games return thing i truly do so i make it a point for Every companion to return in inquisition so the gang rlly is all here because i am a Slutte for found family

i lie in my keep worldstates because i dont want to choose between hawke and alistair during here lies the abyss but i never make him king and every time i play inquisition and cole has the wicked grace line it makes me Scream. alistair baby im so sorry i did this to you but i didnt actually do this to you

yes this is my everyone lives au but like. all the time. i have never left hawke in the fade and i do not intend to.

fuck whatever nonsense about wardens not being able 2 have kids. by sheer divine power (me) anora and bryant have three daughters; eleanor, sabina & cecelia n both bronson and zevran make Excellent uncles because i think anora deserves good things because i’m tired of bioware being like women bad, actually,

so like most of the time i have the warden & hawke turning up after the move to skyhold n then staying on, with the exception of bryant, carmine & mal. mal is as mentioned previously just There the whole time with her girlfriend. bryant steps in as king of ferelden w/ interests in closing the big hole in the sky spewing demons in2 his kingdom yk. carmine shows up because she wants to help & she wants protection for bethany but she outright says she’d rather die than be inquisitor so cassandra is shit out of luck.

“CHANGE HER MIND VARRIC” “she once doubled down on insisting amaranth was a shade of blue because she didn’t want to admit to being wrong. no one’s changing her mind seeker”

alas is the middle child of eight and is thus very good with children and also bossing around people older than him. 2 of his older siblings come to the inquisition when stuff in wycome has been settled

i left ash with the basic canon background with Some variation (he grew up under the qun and left of his own free will when his magic was discovered n he realized he couldn’t take living as a saarebas

kat on the other hand was raised tal-vashoth and has bounced around basically all over thedas and leads her own merc company when the conclave blows up. she also speaks multiple languages. is there a language she doesn’t speak? probably not

just realized how long this got so im gonna like. stop my general rambling now but lmao yeah theres some basics. waves hands.

#sol.txt #sol.orig #long post #late night followers im SO sorry for this #but also like.#i love them so yall just have 2 cope w/ it #no thoughts head dragon age #peonydarling

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sidehowriting · 5 years

Text

Dear Sarah

A/N: Last fic I’m gonna post before my second semester of grad school! That’s so crazy! Also, I don’t have any more challenges at the moment so if you know any or have any requests/suggestions, I am all ears! Anyways, this is for @urbanhaz 1k Writing Challenge! Here’s hoping its good! I tried a different format.

Italics are letters (and one line from a tv program)

Prompt: Just breathe, okay?

Pairings: Dad!Steve x Daughter (?)

Summary: Steve writes his daughter letters while he’s away on missions

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: Angst, aftermath of character death, kinda IW fix but kinda not?

“Sarah,” her mother’s soft voice pulled her from her sleep. “Sarah, sweetie. Wake up.” Sarah opened her eyes, squinting as they were assaulted with light. She wasn’t a morning person.

“I made you some breakfast,” her mother said. Sarah focused in on her, now noticing a tray with a plate of pancakes on it. “They’re your favorite.” Sarah sat up and her mother placed the tray on her lap. “I wanted you to get them while they’re still hot and fresh.”

“Thanks,” Sarah mumbled, still tried. She rubbed her eyes and grabbed the nearby fork.

Her mother smiled sadly and kissed her forehead. “Uncle Bucky’s gonna come over in a couple hours to see you.”

Sarah groaned. “Does he have to?” She pushed the pancakes around on her plate. “I don’t really want to see him today.”

“Yes. He does.” Her mother’s tone was firm and final. Sarah grumbled and rolled her eyes, keeping her gaze down at her food. She heard her mother sigh and knew her demeanor changed. She didn’t need to look at her mother to know her mother’s shoulders had slumped, and she probably had her head in her hands. “This is a hard day for us too, Sarah.” Her mother’s feeble voice went straight to her heart. “We should be together.”

Sarah wanted to apologize but the words wouldn’t leave her mouth. She simply kept her head down, focusing on eating her food. The soft footsteps of her mother faded from the room, the door creaking close behind her.

As she ate, she picked up her phone. She stared at the dark screen for several bites. Did she want to open it? With a click of a button, the screen lit up and she was bombarded with messages from her different social media pages. It was a mix of news articles about the fourteenth anniversary of the defeat of Thanos and people wishing her a happy birthday.

She tossed her phone to the side, not wanting to deal with it. Instead she grabbed her remote and turned on her small television. Of course, it was on a news coverage station.

“…one of the most destructive days in Earth’s history as the Children of Thanos attacked. Had it not been for the sacrifice of Captain America, Steve Rogers, the casualties would have been much higher.”

Sarah angrily changed the channel settling for a children’s show teaching colors. Her eyes were stinging and burning as she hyper fixated on the little animal on her television pointing out all the things that were red.

She finished her food while watching the children’s show, not wanting to change the channel and see any more reminders. She set her tray to the side and snuggled back into her bed, wanting to just lay there forever.

And she would have, had it not been for her mother yelling for her. Sarah pulled herself up, quickly changing her clothes and went towards her mother’s voice. Sarah found her in the living room with Bucky, a brown package in his arms.

“Hey, baby girl.” He smiled when he saw her, approaching her with caution. “How are you doing today?”

Sarah shrugged, not really feeling like talking. She loved her Uncle Bucky. Deeply and truly. He was like a father to her. But today was not the day she wanted to see him. She wanted her own father.

Bucky motioned for her to sit on the couch with him. She did, her mother taking a seat across from them. “I know you’re not about presents today,” he said, pushing the package towards her. “But I think you should make an exception for this.”

The package was thick and heavy. She eyed Bucky and her mother, unsure. “I don’t understand.”

“Open it,” her mother pressed. “I think you’ll really like it.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and did as she was told, tearing the brown paper away from whatever was hidden inside. A solid brown book was exposed. She looked back to her mother and Bucky who both encouraged her to open it.

Flipping the cover, the first thing she saw was a picture of her as a baby nestled snuggly in her father’s arms. She continued to flip, eyes glossing over as she saw more and more pictures. Spanning from her parents wedding to just before her fourth birthday. Her dad present in every single one. There were also articles about him and the Avengers. Some she had read before some she hadn’t.

“Are these letters?” She asked as she continued through. “From dad?”

Bucky nodded. “He wrote you on almost every mission he went on.”

“He did?” She asked, taking in the page after page that started Dear Sarah.

“Bucky and I worked really hard to make this for you. So, did all the others,” her mother said. “Your dad wanted you to have this today.”

Sarah closed the book and held it close to her. “I don’t know what to say.” She bit her lower lip to stop herself from crying.

Bucky patted her knee. “You don’t have to say anything. Do you want to take some time and read the letters?” Sarah nodded. “Go on, then. I’ll hang out for awhile if you want to talk after.”

Muttering a quiet thank you, Sarah clutched the book to her chest like it was her lifeline. She scurried to her room and dove back under her covers. Flipping to the first letter, she started reading.

Dear Sarah,

There’s nothing quite like sleeping on a blanket on a concrete floor to really make you question your life choices. This is one of the things I don’t miss about missions. Sleeping and eating arrangements have always been a hit or miss and sadly this time it’s a miss. Not exactly what I had imagined on my first mission back from paternity leave.

Honestly, I could have stayed on paternity leave for forever. There was nothing better than being able to spend every moment with you. There hasn’t been a lot of research done on genetically modified super soldiers being frozen for 70 years and how that effects their ability to have children. We didn’t think we would be able to have any. That didn’t bother us. We were fine just being together. It was at our wedding during our first dance, your mother leaned in real close and whispered to me that she was pregnant. That was one of the best days of my life. Not only was I marrying the most amazing woman in the world, but I found out I was going to be a dad.

Ever since that moment you have been on my mind. At first it was that you were healthy. Then what you would look like. What kind of baby you would be? Would I be any good as a dad? Now that you’re here, I can only imagine what kind of person you’ll grow up to be. I love you so much, Sarah. You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been. And right now, I’m missing ya like crazy.

For a while I didn’t think I would go on another mission. They just didn’t seem important comparatively. But Tony convinced me, and your mother supported me. So, I’m here, thousands of miles away from you and wishing I was back at home. It’s weird, thinking about it. I miss the grim and grit of fatherhood. I miss waking up at odd hours with you. Feeding you just to have you sip up all over me. I miss being elbows deep in poopy diapers. I had heard that becoming a father changes a person, but I greatly underestimated the extent.

You probably don’t miss me. That’s okay. You’re just a baby after all. Mom’s still there taking care of your needs. I know she’s doing a great job. You have the most wonderful mother and I’m so happy to have her in my life. She has blessed me with such happiness I never thought I would get. Or deserved for that matter.

It’s getting late and I’m nearing the point of exhaustion where I don’t care what I’m sleeping on, I just want to sleep. That’s exactly what I was waiting for. Hopefully things will go smoothly, and I’ll be home to you soon. I can’t wait to hold you and kiss you and tell you just how much I love you. You’re my world, Sarah.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

I learned a new term today. “Old soul” Nat told me it means someone who was born out of their time. She used it to describe me except my soul is literally old, not metaphorically. It’s strange. I wasn’t really born out of my time. I was born in my time but then I was frozen for years and woke up in a different time. So, my soul is old but I’m not sure that’s exactly what she meant.

Anyways, that got me thinking about time. Sometimes I think about what my life would be like if I stayed in the 40s. What would I have done? What would I have accomplished? Would I still be Captain America? Would I have a family? I think about Peggy too. Would we have dated? Married? Had kids? Part of me still loves her and always will.

I love your mother too. I don’t want you to think I don’t. This is something we talked in depth about before we got married. She understands as best as she can without actually having been frozen for decades. Your mother is so incredible. Sometimes I think that I was frozen so I could meet her.

You’re the absolute joy of my life, Sarah. If I could turn back time and stay in the 40s, I know I wouldn’t. There’s nothing that could make me give up my life with you. Being with you, watching you grow. You amaze me everyday and I’m so lucky to be yours.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

I got a video today of you taking your first steps. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to see it. You looked so adorable though. I can’t believe you’re walking already. It seems like just yesterday I was holding you in my arms for the first time. Now you’re walking, and you can say a few words. You’re growing up so fast, baby girl. Please slow down.

I was having a hard time after I saw you walk. I missed this major milestone, what else would I miss? I do want to be there for all your firsts. Bucky assured me that I’d see the rest of them. I’m not sure if he’s right. There’s a lot of uncertainty with this job. Missions just popping up, taking longer than normal. And it’s dangerous. While most of the time I’m pretty confident, there are days I think that I might not make it. I don’t want to die, and have you resent me for it because I wasn’t around. That’s my biggest fear.

This letter got depressing faster than I thought it would. Sorry about that. I just wanted to say that I love you and I’m so proud of you.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

I just left the house not even an hour ago and I feel so guilty. We’re still on the quinjet, on our way to Russia, and all I want to do is turn the jet around and go back to you. You’ve never cried when I left before. Mostly you didn’t even seem to notice. You were either playing or sleeping or eating or doing something that was much more interesting then Dad going on a mission. But today you actually cried when I walked out, and it hurt much more than I thought it would.

I knew this day would come and I thought I was ready. Boy was I wrong. I’m sure you know by now that I’m a huge sucker. You pout your little lip and I’ll do whatever I can to make you smile. Tony says that makes me a pushover, but I prefer to think of it as A+ parenting. You’re my girl and I just want you to be happy. Yet here I am, the reason you were crying.

I know I mentioned before how I was considering not going back to the Avengers when you were born. And the urge to quit hasn’t been this strong since my first mission back. I love you, Sarah. I love you so much. And if I could just stay at home with you forever, I would. But the world is a big, bad, messy place. I want to help clean it up. And I do it for you. Always remember that. Everything I do, I do with your well being in mind.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

Tony made a joke today that I didn’t think was funny. He said that you were going to be a heart breaker when you got older and I’d have to fight away the boys. The whole team laughed but me. It’s kind of made me realize that you’re going to grow up one day and you might not need your dear old dad. That’s terrifying to me.

You’re going to become a teenager. You’re going to get moody and have woman problems and want to date boys. I wish they had a manual for how to deal with those things. I know I’ll have your mother to help out. I know she’ll play a big part in helping you navigate that phase of your life. I want to help you through it too. I just don’t know how good I’ll be at that.

I hope you’ll be patient with me. I know I’ll no doubt do or say something stupid (Bucky has reminded me of this time and time again). I won’t mean to. I just don’t have much experience with dealing with girls. I have no sisters and can count on one hand how many girls talked to me before the serum. I promise to try, though. I promise to support you no matter what and to love you unconditionally. Bucky assures me there will be times where loving you will be hard but that’s when you’ll need the love the most. Thinking about that scares me a lot. I just want to be the best dad I can be for you.

And I will greet all your dates dressed as Captain America. Shield and all. You’re my baby girl and I want all the boys to know that.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

I hate when missions take longer than expected. I thought I was going to be home days ago, but here I am stuck in a crappy motel room sharing a bed with Sam. He snores so loud its unbearable. I miss the comfort of home. I miss waking up to the smells of breakfast that you and your mother had prepared. I miss afternoon naps with you next to me.

I still have the stuffed bear you put in my pack. It goes with me on every mission now. It’s a sweet reminder of you and what I have at home. Those little things keep me going when Sam’s obnoxious snores try to hinder me.

I thought I would have more time to write to you, but Sam just woke up and yelled at me for having a light on. Guess I have to go to bed now. And possibly smother Sam with a pillow.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

Radio silent missions are always the worst. And I know they’re the worst for your mom too. Its so hard not talking to her and you while I’m out. Even if its just a quick text to remind you guys how much I love you.

Your mom spoils me though. She always sends me so many pictures and videos of you guys so when I can finally turn my phone back on, that’s the first thing I see. Last time she sent me a video of you playing with some paints. You said it was a picture for me when I get back. And then you said you loved me. I saved that video. I watch it whenever I get the chance and I always tear up. I have the picture you made in my office at the compound. You have an appreciation for the arts just like your old man. You’re gonna be a great artist one day. I can feel it.

The mission should only last another day. As soon as we’re in the all clear I’m going to try to video chat with you guys if it’s not too late. Your mom will no doubt pick up and at least show me you if you’re sleeping. I hope you’re not though. I miss your voice. I miss hearing you say you love me. I can’t wait to come home and cover your face in kisses.

Love Dad

Dear Sarah,

I love you. And I know I tell you that all the time, as often as I can, but I wanted to start off this letter that way. Saying I love you and I’m so proud to be your dad. I can’t put into words how honored I am to have that privilege. And I can’t emphasize it enough. You’re my world, baby girl. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.

I know I’ve written a lot of letters to you over the years. My plan is to collect them all up and give them to you as a gift one day. Maybe your eighteenth birthday? Or whenever it feels right. And I’ve told Bucky, Sam, Nat, and just about everyone else it too. And you’re probably reading this feeling all confused as to why I would take the time to write it all down.

There’s a real big bad coming. Thanos. I don’t know much about him but Bruce it scared out of his mind. He can’t even Hulk out anymore because of facing him. I didn’t know someone existed that could scare the Hulk away. After hearing what his guy is about, I feel like I should prepare for the worst. That I won’t make it back to you. And should that be the case, I want to make sure you know exactly how much I love you. How much I think about you during every mission.

If this is my last chance to talk to you, I want it to matter. I want to write everything I feel. I don’t want you to grow up and think that I just left. That I just threw myself into battle. Because that’s not it. Sure, before I had a family I just charged forward towards the bad guy, trying to do the right thing. But that hasn’t happened since you. Every time I’ve put my life on the line, I’ve done so thinking about how I was making the world a better place for you. I don’t want you to have to worry about the evil that exists. I want you to be able to go to bed every night with peaceful dreams.

I can’t lie to you and tell you that I’m not scared out of my mind. I try to put on a brave face for everyone, including you, but I can’t right now. The thought of Thanos making his way to earth makes me feel sick. We know where he’s going to go but my mind can’t help but wander. What if he does something else? What if he attacks you and your mom?

I’m also scared of dying. This is such a different feeling than in the 40s before I was frozen. I didn’t have then what I do now. I keep thinking of you growing up and getting married and having your own family. I want to be there for that. I want to see you grow and live. I don’t want to miss a second of your life and I’m scared that I will. But I’m even more scared that I won’t make it through this and it will be for nothing. That Thanos will still get to you and I can’t protect you.

You’re still so little and I know if I don’t come home you might forget me. Not that you won’t know who I am. Your mom has so many pictures and stories to tell you. But you won’t be able to remember me for yourself. At least, not fully. Your actual memories will fade as you get older and that thought makes me so sad. I don’t want you to forget me. I don’t want you to forget those moments that were just between the two of us. That weren’t captured by other people. Those nights when you couldn’t sleep, and I’d lay in bed with you for hours. Playing dress up and tea party while mom was out running errands. Those little moments keep me going and to know that those will be forgotten…

If you’re reading this one day and you’re older and you can’t recall those moments, it’s ok. I’m not writing this letter to make you feel guilty for growing up and forgetting. I’m writing it, so you know those moments happened and they meant everything to me. I want you to know that they did happen and even if you can’t quite recall them just know that I went on every mission thinking of them and smiling and missing you like crazy.

Everything I’ve done has been for you. Every mission, every night away, everything. You’re the most important person in my life, Sarah. I want nothing more than to create a world where I know you’ll be safe and happy.

I’m being told an alien ship is approaching. I don’t know if this is Thanos or not but it’s big and it’s bad. I love you so much, Sarah I can’t even put it into words. You’re my world, my baby girl, my whole heart. I hope I can make you proud.

Love Dad

She sat in her bed, clutching the book when she was done. There were so many thoughts going through her head. She had seen so many pictures and videos of her father. Countless interviews. But reading his words, words he had written specifically for her, was different.

He was right, she really couldn’t remember him on her own. She just had bits and pieces to cling to. Flashes of herself crying and clinging to her father. Wearing a plastic princess crown while having a tea party with her stuffed animals and her dad. He always drank his fake tea with his pinky out. Sharing secrets that were too silly to remember in the middle of the night. Sarah wasn’t even sure those were real or just what she wished had happened.

Suddenly, she was livid. Why would her dad do this to her? Why would he leave her with nothing more than letters to remember him? Why did he die on her birthday? In a fit of rage, she chucked the book. It flew across the room, hitting her lamp and knocking it to the ground. Both items fell with a loud thud, the lamp shattering into pieces.

When that didn’t soothe her, she threw herself face down on her bed and screamed. She screamed and cried and punched her comforter as hard as she could. Heavy footsteps entered her room, but she paid no mind to them nor the dip in her bed.

“It’s okay.” Bucky’s hand was a comfort on her back. “It’s okay, baby girl.”

She was crying herself into hysterics, her breaths coming out in gasps. “I… I can’t…”

“Sh,” Bucky cooed, “Sh. Just breathe, okay?” He rubbed her back. “Calm down. Breathe. Then you can talk.”

Sarah nodded, her face hidden by pillows. The whole while Bucky stayed by her side, rubbing her back and whispering reassurances to her. When she thought she was composed, she tried talking again. “Why was he so dumb, Uncle Bucky? Why was my dad so dumb and stubborn?”

Bucky’s laugh caught her off guard. She picked her head up, giving him a questioning look. “Sweetheart, I’ve been asking that question for over a hundred years,” he said, smiling at her. “Your dad was just an idiot.”

Pushing herself up, she sat on the bed next to him. She stared silently at the mess she made in her room. “My lamp broke,” she whispered.

“I see that.” He got up and walked over to the shattered remains. He stepped cautiously as to not walk on glass. He picked up the book and brushed the debris off it. Then he sat back down next to Sarah, passing it back to her.

Sarah took it, running her fingers over the plain cover. “Did you read any of the letters?”

“A bit. Enough to be able to organize them in the book. I tried to keep them in chronological order.”

She wrapped her arms around the book. “I miss him, Uncle Bucky. I miss him so much…” Tears were in her eyes again. “I miss my daddy…”

Bucky put his arm around her. “I know, sweetheart. I know. I miss him too. We all do.”

She continued to hold the book close to her, her cheek resting against the spine. “Thank you so much,” she said. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten.”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Bucky rubbed her back again. “I’m glad to finally give it to you. I put the finishing touches on it a couple months ago and have just been waitin’ for your birthday to roll around.”

A silence fell between them. Sarah didn’t know what else to say. There was still a lot going on inside her that she needed some time to process. Instead, she decided to change the subject. “Did mom tell you I got accepted to that art school in California?” Sarah asked, peaking up at Bucky.

“She did,” Bucky said, smiling widely at her. “And a full ride too. That’s amazing, Sarah. I’m so proud of you.”

“Do you… do you think Dad would be proud too?”

“Absolutely, kiddo. And your mother said you’re workin’ on a new project. Can I see it?”

She set the book down on her bed and crossed her room. She quickly glanced down at the shards of glass knowing at some point she would need to clean that up. Ignoring her future responsibilities, she opened her closet, showing the little makeshift art studio she created.

Instead of hanging clothes, there was a lone easel. It took up most of the space, leaving just enough room for a box of paints and brushes. A white canvas was set on the easel, revealing Sarah’s latest piece. It was a water color portrait of Captain America’s shield. The thick black outlines standing out and highlighting the pastel reds and blues within the shield itself.

“It’s not finished,” Sarah said. Mounted on her closet door was her father’s shield. Carefully, she plucked it from its hook, and brought it down, level with her painting. “But I think it’s starting to look pretty good.”

“It’s beautiful, baby girl.” Bucky stood up and walked over to her, eyeing the painting and then real shield. “I can see your dad hanging it in his office.”

Sarah’s face lit up at the praise. “Really? You think so?”

“Sarah,” Bucky said, “Steve was over the moon for you. Since he found out he was gonna to be a dad I can’t think of a day where he didn’t talk about you. You were everything to him. I know, wherever he is, he’s so freakin’ proud of his baby girl.”

She looked down at her father’s shield. Its reflective surface showing her her own face. She had been told she looked a lot like him but after seeing picture after picture of the two of them in her new memory book, she conceded. She did look exactly like him and seeing her reflection in his shield brought a new wave of tears to her eyes. And a new wave of emotions in her heart. “I’m proud of him too.”

Tags: @dsakita @xxloki81xx

#urbans1kwc #dad!steve #dad!steve x daughter #steve imagine #captain american imagine #steve rodgers imagine #dad!steve rogers

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filipinosmakinghistory · 6 years

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FAHM17 - October 30, Lauren Bough

Meet Lauren Bough, a freshman at Northeastern University. She is a Filipina-American from Upper Saddle River, NJ and Filipino culture Did Not influence how she was raised.

What challenges did you face growing up as a Filipino/Filipino-American?

When people asked me what my ethnicity was growing up I’d always start by saying that I was half-Chinese. The response was almost always “Really?” or “No way!” I’d nod, but then add that I was half-Filipino. The look on their face became understanding, as though this explained everything. Truthfully, though, I’m not even a full half Filipino.

With one hand I can count the Filipinos in my graduating high school class. In fact, I'd still have my thumb curled into my palm as I ticked us off: one boy and one girl of full-Filipino descent, a half-Russian and half-Filipino girl, and myself—half-Chinese, “half”-Filipino. Just four among three-hundred and fifty students from the four separate towns that make up my high school’s quad-district. In elementary school I was the only Filipino-American and in middle school I was one of two. Thus, I’ve never really felt that my Filipino-American identity had a place in my life. I have always gravitated more towards my Chinese heritage, as at least through that I could meet other Chinese kids my age outside of places like church and my grandparents’ parties.

Have you ever struggled with your racial/ethnic/cultural identity? Describe this struggle and how you overcame it.

My ethnic and racial identity has always been difficult for me to determine or explain without a lengthy explanation, probably because I’m a “mutt” of sorts. Firstly, though, I think a lot of my own confusion and that of people around me regarding my ethnicity starts with my last name, "Bough". The name itself is actually Irish, tracing back to a single Irishman who crossed the Atlantic and married a former slave in St. Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands. Their son was my great grandfather, Irvin Gustav Bough, who himself traveled across another ocean as a missionary to the Philippines. There, he married and had three kids, the youngest being my grandfather, Irvin David Bough. Irvin Gustav passed away when my grandpa was still young and thus my grandpa grew up as a fully-fledged Filipino, not having much connection to his family in St. Croix, but looking more like his black family across the sea. My grandmother on the other hand has a lot of Spanish blood, so she doesn’t look like a “brown” Filipino either. With this weird combination my dad and one of his sisters popped out with dark skin, while his other two sisters could (and do) easily pass for Caucasian women. Mixed with our mother’s Chinese blood, my siblings and I somehow turned out looking more Filipino than my dad and his sisters. Just as my genetics are mixed, the culture I grew up with is mixed too. Nonetheless, my parents are both very ‘Americanized’, so I’ve never felt particularly connected to any of the cultures my family is a part of. As lengthy as this whole explanation is, however, knowing my family history and listening to the stories my family members tell me about their lives and the relatives I’ve never had the blessing to meet is how I’ve come to feel most comfortable with who I am and where I stand in terms of ethnicity. Of course I still usually simplify all of this down by saying I am half-Chinese, half-Filipino, and somehow all-American when people ask, but even if I am the only one who knows the truth to my heritage, I can settle some of my own confusion.

How has being involved in a Filipino cultural organization helped you to connect with your culture?

The day after NU Barkada’s second GM the beginning of this past September I called my grandfather and I excitedly told him how I had decided to join the Filipino student organization on campus. All of the members I’d met so far had been overwhelmingly nice and welcoming. My grandpa was ecstatic---especially when I told him that many of Barkada’s members were from Bergen County, NJ, just like we were. He asked me first for their names, but at this point I had met so many people in such a short amount of time that it was difficult for me to remember. It didn’t matter though as my grandpa was already rapidly continuing his speech. “This will be so good for you!” he kept repeating. In part, he said this because he really honestly believes that all Filipinos are outstanding students, (and #barkademics has only proved this to be true,) but I knew that he also was happy that I would be exposed to more of his culture---and I have been! Before Barkada the things I knew about Filipino culture were limited to a few foods (pancit, lumpia, and balut), a couple of words and phrases (literally just salamat and a couple other words), that my grandma is from Tacloban but most of her family is in Manila nowadays, and that all of my (many) Filipino aunties and uncles had strange nicknames. I’ve only been a part of Barkada for two months, but I’ve already learned so much more about our culture than I ever would have at home.

Describe your immediate/household family.

At home, there are six of us in total: my mother, my father, my two older brothers, my younger sister, and myself. We’re all very close, and very sarcastic! Being kind of mean to each other is how we joke and show our love for one another, hahaha!

Is having a knowledge of family history important? Why or why not?

With a family history as complicated as mine, knowing its in's and out's has helped me understand who I am and where I am coming from, even if no one else around me also understands. In April 2017 I actually went to a family reunion in St. Croix, USVI. There I met so many people who I’d never think could or would be part of my family, and yet they all shared my last name! I always make a point to ask my parents and grandparents about the family I’ve met and those that I haven’t.

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thejustinmarshall · 6 years

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Will Johns and 50 Years of Cream Coming to The Count Basie Theatre

Interview by Danny Coleman

“It’s going over really well I think,” says Will Johns of Cream. “We’ve got a really nice range of age groups coming to the shows and a lot of young guitar players as well; which is really great to see; every young guitar player that I know plays that riff from, “Sunshine of Your Love.”

Smack in the middle of a, “50th Anniversary Tour” celebrating the music of one of rock’s first power trios, these three men not only bring the music of Cream back into focus but do so literally through their blood lines.

Kofi Baker, the son of drummer Ginger Baker, Malcolm Bruce, the son of bassist Jack Bruce and guitarist Will Johns, nephew of Eric Clapton have combined to pay homage to the music of their fathers and uncle.

Johns, an avid fisherman was working on fishing vessels in the English Channel when he got the call from his buddy Malcolm asking him to stop out at a show he and Baker were doing near his home town.

“A few years ago, I’d say 2013 just after I lost my dad, I was in a pretty sad place and the phone rang and it was Malcolm Bruce. He phoned to say that he was coming to England on tour with Kofi and a great guitarist that they were playing with at the time named Godfrey Townsend and they were going to be doing a show fairly near to where I live and he invited me to come sit in on one of the shows; at the time I was really flattered that he thought that I could do something like that. So, I went along to the show and had a jam with the guys and things progressed kind of slowly from that point. It’s been a bit of a roller coaster ride; we had a tour of England but there were visa complications for Kofi so Malcolm and I ended up doing a couple of runs in the UK with another drummer. Then it all kind of came together last year with our new manager who put this particular project together and we toured Australia and New Zealand last year.”

Being the nephew of Eric Clapton; does Johns feel any additional pressure in his presentation of the material and has he received any help from old, “Slow Hand” over the years?

“I started out hitting the drums downstairs at my Uncle Eric’s house at stupid o’clock in the morning and I think I pissed him off a time or two and he’d come down at like six in the morning and say, “What the fuck are you doing? I’m trying to sleep; what are you learning and why don’t you learn a proper instrument? (Laughs)” I don’t think he meant the didgeridoo. Which by the way, all the time we were on tour in Australia I don’t think I saw anyone playing a didgeridoo; I didn’t see a kangaroo either.”

“He actually showed me the opening part of, “Crossroads” as a young guitarist and once I figured that out, I went back to him and said, OK I’ve got that bit, he nixed it and that was when he put me on the path of,”You’ve got to figure that bit out for yourself.” A little tough love but I guess it went a long way because here we are,” he said with a laugh as he recounted those earlier days.

” I think I may have felt some pressure before but I’ve been doing it for quite a while now and seems I’ve come to terms with that aspect of it. It’s a big pair of boots to fill but I don’t think that we as a band are necessarily trying to emulate or copy what’s been done before; it’s just more of an honoring of it and tipping our hat to it while still retaining our own musicianship and sense of personality; if that makes sense. We’re not wearing the clothes of the era or using big Marshall stacks of amps to recreate that sound; however Gibson Custom Shops have been very, very generous and sent me out a very beautiful cherry ES-355 to play on the tour and of course that’s the guitar that Eric used at the farewell concert back in November of 1968.”

Unlike many other classic acts these days, this lineup gives those who come to the show more than their money’s worth.

“You know, it’s a little bit elasticated where we can stretch it out or pull it back, there’s a lot of jams in the show but right now it’s running about two and a half hours. Sometimes it depends on what the venue requires, sometimes we have a break and sometimes we just run all the way through. Sometimes it’s a bit long to concentrate and be hit over the head with loud guitar, bass and drums,” he explained with a hearty laugh. “What we’re working on is a basic premise, Kofi is doing, “Toad” which features a drum solo that can be anywhere from 12 minutes to 20 minutes depending on the night and to be honest, there hasn’t been a night where after he plays his drum solo that he hasn’t pretty much gotten a standing ovation. I have to say, hand on heart that he’s probably one of the most phenomenal drummers in the world today. I think he has probably surpassed his father, so yeah.”

After two earlier shows at the Bergen and Mayo PACs, they will wrap up their New Jersey run with an October 23 show at Red Bank’s famed Count Basie Theatre. Johns reiterated once again the band’s pleasure with the diversity of the audiences.

“I think we’ve probably got one of the broadest age ranges of interest. Younger people are coming in, younger people with their grandparents and they’re obviously young players just starting out wanting to see where the riffs have come from.”

Even though they are technically not Cream, they are cut from the same cloth and Johns is very pleased with how they are being received and what they present every night on stage.

“The show is definitely a multi-media experience; we’ve got an incredible light show. Once again, it tips its hat to the lighting effects of time; the oil lamp and the psychedelia but then it also has modern contemporary aspects too. Included in that is footage and stories from our experiences and our upbringing with our respective parents and my uncle; combined with that we cover a lot of the Cream material and the well-known songs, so there’s some set pieces and also a lot of jam and free form. Both Kofi and Malcom have what I might call a genetic bond musically; it’s almost spiritual and bordering on telepathic and as a blues guitarist and somewhat of a simpleton, sometimes for me that can be a bit of a challenge (laughs). We turn it up and I’d like to think that we do our best to honor the music.”

To obtain tickets or discover more about Cream and this current tour, please visit www.musicofcream.com.

Danny Coleman (Danny Coleman is a veteran musician and writer from central New Jersey. He hosts a weekly radio program entitled “Rock On Radio” airing Sunday evenings at 10 p.m. EST on multiple internet radio outlets where he features indie/original bands and solo artists.)

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occupyscifi · 6 years

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Memory Mods

Before leaving for the meeting Johnny Amani mainlined some Abandoned Father Issues with a quick kick of Moody Adolescence, topped off with a chunk of Teenage Quest to get him in the right mood.

“oh yeah” he nodded as the memories came back to him, washing away the previous evening’s Happy Boyhood and Teenage Country Farm memories. In a few moments all recollection of his smiling parents, supportive siblings and that time with the girl from the farm down the road faded. In their place there grew memories of restlessness, of ambition and other people letting him down. In the bathroom mirror he felt his face get more serious. His eyes narrow slightly. His father’s eyes, and damn that man for pushing him to the brink. Well today he’d show him. Today he’d brave the things his father had never dared. He could look his father in the eye without getting called a pussy.

The meeting was taking place in the former palace of a Silicon Valley firm that had been requisitioned during the revolution and turned into community buildings. Now the great silver torus rang not with the sounds of data acquisition nor the cries of tormented coders but instead with communal civic startups and privacy therapy centres.

Johnny breezed in through the entrance, nodding at the blond wood and the blandly cloned trees whose wood still bore the imprint of the long gone branding that had been encoded into its genetic structure. He felt like a Jobs or a Bezos, ready to take on the world and hold it in the palm of his hand. With that thought in mind he manfully strode into the smoked glass cubicle of the meeting room, all the other attendees looking up at him as he took his place on the smart plastic chair.

“Okay” he said as he felt his buttocks firmly gripped by the chair “lets do this” he looked around the room at the rest of them, feeling them bow before his authority “My name in Johnny Amani, and I’m a false memory addict. Welcome to the first meeting of memory addon addicts anonymous”

“Its not the fault of technology” Johnny explained once they had gone around the room and they had all introduced themselves (back at the first meeting. He’d been maudlin, having been mainlining some lost first love he’d downloaded on the darknet) “FakeMem technology had a noble start” he looked at the small group of fellow addicts, knowing almost instinctively what their addictions were. Pria, the teenage girl in the corner was lost in kiddie fantasy land, revelling in memories of secret worlds through ordinary wardrobes and aliens coming to collect her to fly their last starfighters. Elena, the corporate bitch on his left and his current closest girlpal, could just as easily been tattooed with the same Daddy issues memories that Johnny had dosed himself with “memory rewrite technology was developed back before the revolution to help PTSD cases – a branch of Google dreamed it up, tried to sell it to the Pentagon for soldiers who’d left their sanity down Mexico way. But of course by then Uncle Sam wasn’t buying anything. So they instead went all philanthropic. California was awash with refugees from both sides of the war. Kids who’d seen things no human being- let alone a child- should see. The engineers figured it was simple. PTSD is all about memory, you see something that fucks you up, your brain can’t handle it. It plays it out on repeat, forever. It can’t get past it, like a stuck record” he paused for dramatic effect “so if you replace the memory then you get rid of the trauma. Course it ended up being used for evil means – Mcluhn’s maxim still applies” Johnny nodded at the wall where the late, great prophet of the revolution’s most famous phrase hung on the wall. Under a picture of a plump middle aged woman the words went ‘any sufficiently advanced technology will first be used for liberation, but then inevitably for repression and control. Often by the same people’. Johnny bobbed his head in respect to Mcluhn’s wisdom “which we saw in the revolution when the Silicon Valley oligarchs realised they couldn’t just charm their way out of trouble so they tried to make us forget. Had whole cities where overnight people got their entire lives turned upside down. Woke up not knowing what memories were real and which were not. Evil times” he shook his head, he’d just been fresh out of college in the Midwest when the silicon valley appligarchy had been overthrown so he’d been sheltered from the worst of it. Even so the town right next to his had been hit by a wartime era fearbomb and it had taken years for the residents to restore their real memories from social media backups and simulated approximations “but this is not about all that. It’s about us. Because we’re not frightened little refugees, nor are we Navy SEALs who saw too many heads explode down in Juarez” he looked around at them all “we’re addicts. We’re addicted to changing our memories because either we get a buzz off of feeling like we’re someone else or otherwise we’re too terrified to face reality with just our own boring memories for company”

“I’m Pria” the teenage girl had stood up first. Brave of her, Johnny though, but a cynical part of him knew that her bravery came not from within but from false memories of that time when she was twelve and she’d faced down an army of orks with nothing but her mage skills for survival. Course he only knew that because he’d done the same. Got fired from his job because of it – not for being an addict but for flipping out when a co-worker had laughed at him checking all the cupboards in a board room for secret passages to other worlds “and I’ve been using false memories since I was about ten years old” the girl gulped, wearing the faraway expression that meant she was refusing to meet anyone else’s eye. The room was good for that, the glass was only smoked on one side so from the other you could look out over the centre of the torus, down to where once cadres of Silicon Valley brodudes had set forth to conquer the world in the name of big data “I don’t even know why I started. I used to think it was cause I got bullied, then I checked my downloads and I realised that the whole bullying thing was a FakeMem too. I must have just been lonely, so I started taking them. I started with a few light ones. You know, the meet a celeb memories. A couple of Shanghai Disney world rides. My dad wasn’t always there so he used to share a few from his travels, so we could both pretend we’d been together” her voice quavered slightly “maybe that’s why I got too deep” she glanced at Johnny “but I don’t wanna act like I blame my dad. I got myself addicted. I didn’t want to be me, I think, it was easier to be Princess Peach or Empress of the Porcelain people. Better than being boring old Pria Park who went to the local high school and didn’t have a single experience different from anyone else I’d ever met”

With that she abruptly sat down. Johnny started the applause, nodding bullishly at her admissions “excellent. Remember, there’s no judgement here. We’ve all done things we regret, things we want to forget. Hell, that’s half the reason we became addicts” he looked suddenly serious “but because of that there isn’t a quick fix. The only way we can get past our addiction is to recognise what it is, to work together to support each other. To remember that our addiction isn’t some harmless fun” he looked around soberly at all of them “most of us have had so many mods we can’t even tell our real memories from the fake ones. We’ve squandered reality chasing some impossible dream. We need to stop looking to some bolt from the blue remedy. There isn’t something we can download into our brains that will magically fix us. There isn’t some brand new mod that will bring everything back and make us better again. We only have each other”

“You know there’s an erase doing the round” Elena cornered Johnny, waiting till everyone else was gone and doing so on the pretext of cleaning up the coffee cups and wiping down the non digital whiteboard of its inspirational slogans. Only when the room had emptied had she sidled up to Johnny and whispered in his ear.

“didn’t you listen to my inspiring and not at all plagiarised speech?” said Johnny dismissively as he reset the room, wiping the machine memory of the defiantly non networked software that monitored the office. Revolution protocols stated that it was illegal to store any digital information of any user without express permission and even then to make sure it was not accessible by anyone with any commercial purpose “there isn’t some quick fix download. Its fantasy” he looked her in the eye, her façade of corporate bitch almost totally vanished. Now he saw the anxiety and insecurity that had lead to her addiction. The worst part was knowing that his own face mirrored that too “memory isn’t archaeology. You can’t just peel back the layers looking for what was originally there. Human memory is organic. When you change a memory you are literally moving the brain cells around. You change their alignment. They make new connections and the old ones are broken. There isn’t an erase function for that”

“This time its different” said Alma “look, I’m not going to get into a technical discussion but it seems like its more of a reconstruction than an erasure. Because you know that when you implant a new FakeMem it overrides the old one, but to do so you need to understand the old state. So it already maps your brain, right?”

“Sure” said Johnny, whose technical knowledge was probably less than Elena’s but wasn’t about to admit it. Perhaps had he not been stuffed to the gills with father resentment memories he might have not been indulging some alpha male bullshit but that was an argument for another day.

“So all you’d have to do to roll back the memories would be to establish the right trail. If’ you’ve got a record of the mods you’ve added then you should be able to follow them back and restore the original”

“Sounds like this software is pretty heavy duty” said Johnny “and also pretty fucking illegal. To go through a download record like that would violate, like, a dozen Revolution protocols. In fact it probably qualifies as a bioweapon in itself. Could probably be Gitmoed because of it”

“I’ll take that as a no then” said Elena turning to leave “cause I’m gonna download it in, like, two hours time”

“Oh no” said johnny quickly, leaping to intercept her “I just said it was seriously illegal. I didn’t say I wasn’t interested”

“in that case meet me here” Elena scribbled something on a piece of paper and handed it to him. Her handwriting was almost illegible, side effects of growing up before the revolution when every piece of information was sent via machine “at 4pm. Its gonna be a blast”

“sure” said Johnny, already having moved beyond second thoughts into third and fourth thoughts. Did he really want to do this? He sighed as Elena exited the room “guess I’m going to have to call my sponsor”

“so let me get this straight, another FM junkie wants you to download something that’s going to definitely roll back you mods and free you of your addiction?” “yup” said Johnny. They were sitting across the street from the former silicon valley campus in a café that had been liberated for the people but was otherwise unchanged from its days feeding the libertarian messiahs and the big data pushers of silicon valley. There were even still the posters on the wall of the last generation of Silicon Valley billionaires. Anywhere else in America those posters would have been torn down, but there was still an ambivalent relationship to the survivors living in the valley itself. Most of them had been hardcore privacy crusaders but there wasn’t one of them that hadn’t been raised on stories of the tech entrepreneurs, the men and other men who had taken a bunch of numbers and made a billion dollars out of them. Indeed the man sitting opposite Johnny was a typical example “that’s just what I’m gonna do Greg” “dude, that’s fucked up” said Gred Deen. Back in the revolution he’d on the frontline, former coder turned poacher, white hatting for the good guys when his former employers at Google had taken the ‘don’t’ out of their famous slogan. He’d met Johnny when the pair of them were in rehab, Greg could remember nothing of his life before the revolution, because for the five years after it he’d modded his memories so heavily his synapses were permanently screwed. Now he worked as a barista at the coffee bar, body occasionally wracked by flashbacks to memories that may or may not have been his own “you understand that, right? I mean that’s junkie talk. That one final big hit will set you straight? That’s not how it works. Hell, if I thought I could get back my real memories that way then I’d sign on the dotted line, but the fact is that it doesn’t work. I got out of being a junkie the hard way, same as you need to”

“but I want the real me back” said Johnny pitifully, pulling at his shirt “not this macho bullshit guy I am today, nor the sensitive well rounded guy I pretended to be yesterday. The real me”

“not sure any of us would know that even if we had our memories” he shook his head as he poured out cups of GM’d java guaranteed to wake up even the sleepiest of heads “I mean, you know what life was like before the rev, right?”

“I got too many memories man, you know that”

“back then people had their public selves – all that social media profile shit. Then they had their sensitive inner selves they’d only reveal in messages to their nearest and dearest. Were either of those the real them? Hard to know. You could watch someone’s livefeed for hours and you don’t know if it was the real them or not. People act differently depending on who they think is watching”

“I looked up my social media feed a couple of years ago” confessed Johnny, dropping his voice to a whisper. It didn’t do to talk about things like that. Even before the revolution social media had been a warzone. After the revolution a general amnesty had been predicated on the notion that any every trace of data harvested in those years should be destroyed. Some people had grumbled that this let the perpetrators of the Twitter massacre of Osaka and the snapchat murders off the hook but it was generally agreed that peace relied somewhat on amnesia. An irony which Gregg and Johnny could well appreciate.

“and?” asked Gregg carefully, his hands shaking minutely

“I didn’t find anything”

“nor should you man”

“no, but really. There was nothing. I mean, I used some back channels that would get me in trouble if certain people knew. But I was desperate. I was using several times a day back then. I’d have done anything. I thought if I could find….”

“good job you didn’t” rumbled Gregg menacingly “people know you’ve got that kind of data then they think you’re with the tech underground….”

“you really believe that even exists?” said Johnny “come on, its just rumours. If any of the silicon valley execs survived the last days of the rev then they’re hiding pretty deep. Hardly think they’re plotting some kind of takeover. People would never stand for it”

“never know” said Gregg “you didn’t know these people like I did….”

“I didn’t think you remembered” said Johnny accusingly

“don’t need to. I kept diaries. Stories that would make your hair curl. These were people who got to where they were by hacking society. Disruption, that was their big deal. They didn’t see the world like we do. Where you consider other people’s feelings and point of view. There was one thing they cared about. Power. Sometimes that came from money and other times it came from having so much dirt on people they could play ‘em like a harp. These people don’t just vanish” Gregg looked up to where several customers were waiting “like I say. Don’t try to dig up the past. If you fail you’ll just keep on being a junkie and if you succeed, well you might just wish you failed”

Elena was waiting impatiently outside the hotel. It had the slightly melted pastel look of cheaply 3D printed walls and the fixtures inside recalled both the enthusiasm of the immediate post rev world as well as its terrible design choices.

“You got it then?” asked Johnny, still not sure if he was doing the right thing. He’d changed his mind five times since speaking with Greg and nearly turned around and headed home. But he needed to know, either because life is a journey towards truth or else as Greg said he was just a junkie needing a fix.

“course” said Elena, the last of her corporate bitch memory mod fading like old hair dye. Together they strode into the dilapidated hotel, the automatic credit readers long having been ripped out and replaced by a small armoured booth where a revolution veteran sat starting into space. They paid cash with the certainty that the veteran wouldn’t remember who they were. Odds on she wasn’t sure if they were real in the first place.

“are you ready?” asked Elena as she prepped the EEG machine and laid the electrodes across Johnny’s head. He could hear the apprehension vying with the excitement in her voice.

“no” said Johnny truthfully “ I mean, shit. What if we don’t like who we are? Cause chances are we were not good people. Otherwise why would have modded our memories in the first place?”

“we’ll never know unless we give it a try” said Elena, adjusting the electrodes on her own head “ready when you are”

“Listen if it turns out that the revolution was a fake and that we really live in google verse or Apple gulag then I’ll never forgive you” Johnny looked at Elena fiercely.

“Yeah, that would be awful” she said “not least cause there’s already, like, a dozen conspiracy theories that say exactly that” she smiled “probably find that actually we were just assholes instead. But I’d like to be my own asshole, if that makes sense”

“Hey, I don’t need memories to tell me I’m an idiot” said Johnny as Elena tapped a code into the machine “I see that every morning when I wake up”

“See you on the flip side” said Elena as the machine counted down from ten “lets hope we weren’t too bad people”

With that there was a burst of light. With most memory mods the effect came on slowly, the memories trickling through like coloured syrup through water. With this one however Johnny staggered under the weight of it. Echoes of past memory mods imploded in his mind as the program traced back through a decade of mod addiction. A burst of Happy Childhood suddenly overwritten by Growing up Gangsta. The light notes of Teenage Adventurer melded with High School Hero. He could feel his neurons requiring themselves. The false memories being replaced by those he had gathered himself through eyes and ear, processed by his own mind. Suddenly it was there. Reality. And at the same time he finally realised why he had become an addict in the first place. And he realised that Greg was full of shit. Not only had that fucker clearly had his memory working, but that he had known full well who Johnny really was.

“Oh shit” he said, opening his eyes to see by the expression on her face that Elena was having the same realisation as him. He ripped the smooth electrodes off his head, holding it like it was bout to explode or send him mad, which effectively it had done. “Oh shit, shit shit. The fuck have we done?”

“Well I don’t know about you” said Elena, or as he realised now former CEO of Google and warcriminal responsible for the privacy deaths of millions, Mia Ramsey “but I’m gonna download as many memory mods as I can till I forget this ever happened”

“Oh yeah” said Johnny, or rather Facebook chief security officer Alan Khan. AKA the man responsible for the fear bombing of three cities and the subsequence suicide spike that had seen ten thousand people take their own lives “I guess there are worse things than being an asshole after all”

#fakememories #sf

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