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seldomscilence16 · 2 years

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Whumptober day 3: Alternative 4&7

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Prompts;

Touch-Starved

Protective

(Honestly probably a couple more on total accident since a lot of things go hand in hand...)

Inspiration where for art thou? Using the alternatives this time round cause brains on vacay. Been a minute since I focused on these guys, Im behind on the series and as such this is an au so to speak and probably ooc. Also, I seem to have a common ish setting for all three so far... hm.

Thanks!

"Why are we doing this again?"

"Because, Gloom and Doom, Thomas asked us specifically. This is a great honor, so stop trying to rain on my parade!"

"This is a stealth mission Roman, a parade would be highly counterintuitive."

"Come on fellas, if we want to get this done we need to work together!"

They stop as a group, silence falling over them as they take to the shadows the forest provides, watching another troop trudge by. They have several carts, each covered with a large fabric to hide its contents. The troop is well armed, and no doubt itching for a fight, ready to defend their cargo, but also bored of their no doubt long trek.

Roman grips the hilt of his sword with white knuckles, but restrains himself from actually confronting the troop. He knows how important the task they've been given is, and should their prescence in enemy lands be known, the mission would fail, and their lives as well as Thomas' would be in grave danger.

The troop passes, and Romans grip laxes, opening his mouth to no doubt say something that would instigate another debate. Virgils hand covers his mouth, having crossed to his side faster than his companions could track. Romans offense could be felt, ready to lash out, only to see Virgils eyed trained on something past the bushes covering them.

The four watch with wide eyes as an ogre, easily twelve feet tall and as thick as all four of them combined, scans the forest as he takes slow steps to follow the troop. He bears the sigil of their enemy, and an axe larger than any theyd seen before- and Remus did love collecting ridiculous weapons so this was quite the feat. His steps leave indents in the dirt below his feet, but make no other indication of his presence, some silencing spell purhaps to trick people no doubt.

Only once he is far past their line of sight does anyone breathe. Roman grasps Virgils wrist to remove his hand,

"How the heck did you catch that?!"

His grip is warm on Virgils cooled skin, as he pulls away the warmth stays but his skin prickles and tingles annoyingly.

"Hes 12 feet tall Roman." He states simply, putting distance between himself and the others once again.

"But made no noise to indicate his presence, your diligence is impressive Virgil." Logan pushes his specticles higher on his nose, regarding Virgil with a look he can only depict as respect of some kind.

He looks away with a shrug, tucking himself into his cloak more fully,

"We should keep moving."

His advisors learned his chosen after the fact, and really only because Remus was pouting as he carved the 'face' off the training dummy and mumbling about said decision.

"Im not questioning your decisions Lord, its just the fact you chose... those four... to do something so important."

"So you are questioning my decisions?"

"Seperately they all have good qualities for this mission, its just that... well together they cant even agree on what color the sky is, much less how to go about such an important mission."

"Look, I know my people. They've been through a lot, but I trust them to complete this mission and make it back in one peice." Thomas turns away from then all, not wanting to see any doubt in his choice.

He was nervous for them, sure they didnt always get along, but he trusted them to do what needed to be done. Because if there was one thing they could agree on, it was helping Him. He just hoped whatever ways they decided to do that would work together and get them home.

Gods help them all if they didnt.

"And we're sure its in there?" Patton asks, squinting as if he could look through solid rock.

"We've followed the directions thoroughly, unless we've been decieved, what we're looking for is in there." Logan confirms, though hes examining their surroundings skeptically.

"Alright, we all know the plan, lets get in and get out and get home." Roman, the one who'd been on missions of all kinds-far more than the others had- is the most serious they've ever witnessed.

Even Virgil, ever one to question the warrior, is silent, simply sharing a nod with the three. He would be watch, the one to warn them of danger. Virgil swears, in his own mind as he always does, to protect the others and Thomas with his life.

The others would sneak in, they would get what they came for, and then escape, hopefully with their enemies none the wiser. They had made it this far, past many lines of defense, all without raising alarm, this part should be easy enough, they just had to get out before knews spread of what they came for.

Night has fallen since their arrival, the guard schedule has been memorized, and their plan begins without a hitch. Virgil watches as Roman leads Patton and Logan through the entrance of the cave turned stronghold, watches them disappear from his reach, feels colder for it, but sets his shoulders in determination as he turns to keep a watchful eye.

If they were lucky no one would think to enter after them, but Virgil was not one to rely on luck. He would ensure their departure of this place, one way or another. So unsurpisingly, ten minutes in, everything goes down the well.

"Im telling you I heard something!"

A small group of men, being led by one of the guards, are making their way to the hold. Should they go in, the others will trapped, Virgil has only a moment to think of a plan. He moves the shadows near the entrance, in vaguely human shapes, heading towards his own hiding place.

"There! Halt!"

"Hurry, to the hills!" His voice deepens, carrying across the distance. The hills are the opposite direction of their true escape, meaning the others way will hopefully be clear. But to keep up his shadow illusions, Virgil will have to go with them, away from his post, and all alone.

He runs.

"Guys? Theres a commotion outside." Pattons words are a mere breath, peeking around the corner to try and get a glimpse out.

Logan, item secure in his sachel, and Roman come to join him, watching as men go running past the entrance.

"To the hills! Dont let them escape!"

They share a puzzled look,

"The hills? Did someone else try and raid tonight?" Roman asks.

His companions however, know the same as him, so they wait for the men to pass before creeping their way forward. They'll signal for Virgil, wait for his all clear, then make their escape. Patton makes his animal noise, and they all wait for the response, and wait... and wait.

Patton tries once more, but silence is their only answer. Logan takes the risk of looking past the rocks, to find a near empty surroundings, and no sign of Virgil. Just torches in the distance and the dots of a small army. He studies the scene for a long moment before a realization comes to him,

"Virgil has led them away."

"What!? That wasnt part of the plan!" Roman snaps with a hiss to rival one of Janus', "why would he do that!?"

"You know as well as I Roman, Virgil takes his job seriously. If he strayed from the plan,"

"Its because he was protecting us." Patton finishes gravely, Logan nodding as Romans glare clears to one of horror.

"He has an army after him! How does he expect to escape??"

"He expects us to escape Ro, to follow the plan." The sadness that laces Patton tone tells the two just what he thinks of that idea, how much it hurts him to even think of it.

Had this been the time of their meeting however long ago, Roman would have barely batted an eye to leave behind the storm cloud. All three of them probably would have put the mission first back then, when things were tense and they didnt understand how Thomas could possibly need such a man as Virgil.

This was not then though.

They had learned since then, that even though they dont always get along, they could trust eachother. They had been without Virgil before, and the choas that followed had been dire, and that was when they were no more than occupants breathing the same air. After what theyd been through since, however much they fought, Roman could say he saw all three of them as his friends. They were family at this point, the ones who reunited him with his brother, the ones who have fought at his side and seen him at his lowest and still stood by him. Logan could list all of Virgils valuable additions to their cause, but Virgil was more than that, he was a friend, a confidant, one who took the time to try and understand him, Logan could not give him up, not after everything the man had done for him. And Patton, he may not have always understood Virgil, but he loved him none the less, loved all of them, and without him, a vital piece of their life would forver be missing.

They would not be leaving one of their own behind.

Virgil was used to the bone deep cold he'd lived with for most of his life. He'd lived to accept it long ago, as a part of his life, he was supposedly cold hearted or blooded or whatever they called him, so it just made sense that hed feel cold like some curse.

It was a surpise the first time, that feeling of warmth he didnt think possible. Patton had gotten excited about something, and clutched at the nearest thing- Virgils arm. The warm had shot through his viens like fire, and as such hed stumbled away with a muttered excuse and an arm that burned for hours after.

The burn at touch lessened to a tingle the more it happened, and it scared Virgil as much as he longed for it. Wondered if more than a touch would kill him, and if that would be so bad.

He supposes its just his luck that instead he'll go with the stab of a blade.

He lays on his back, beaten by the sheer number and strength before him, panting, bruised, bleeding, and utterly exhausted. But content with the fact the others should be long gone, with a completed mission and a new hope for Thomas and his continued mission.

"Where are the other thief!" The man above him holds a sword point to his throat, surrounded by his men.

"They are long gone, you were too slow, just as you always are. One step behind, too stupid to give up, to weak to win." Virgil is too tired to think of too many digs, but sometimes its the simplest words that leave an impression. Call a man stupid, and eventually he will begin asking himself if he is.

"You will tell me who sent you, or you will die and rot in hell."

"If thats your best threat, I can see why your men cringe when you open your mouth."

His arm moves, barely a twitch really, accompanied by a sound of rage, before pain blooms across his temple. A small cut, blood already blooming, Virgil wonders if this man even has the stomach to kill him.

"Final chance scum." His voice shakes and Virgil knows the sound well.

A final hurrah then?

He lowers his voice again, angling his head so the moons glow reflects off his iris',

"As my blood has been spilt so too shall yours, anger stirs in the air and death soon comes to your own doors."

It echoes just so, an eery air left behind as the soldiers shift tensely. A seed of doubt, discord will bloom. Anger and fear flash in the mans eyes, his sword raises, and Virgil steels himself for the blow-

A squealsh, a grunt, a thud. The whistle of arrows through the sky. Virgil stares at his fallen attacker, then turns- nice and slow- to glare at the remaining. As arrows continue to befall, the fear spreads,

"He's cursed us! Run! Retreat!!!!"

And run they do. He watches their forms disappear, slumping further to the ground as the shock of a 'rescue(?)' Sets in. He grunts however when a weight collides with his body and wraps around him, encasing him in that warmth.

Its more than ever before, a little overwhelming, but also... nice in a way. Chasing away the cold, calming his erratic heartbeat. Even as wounds and aches are dug into, he cant bring himself to push the body away. He often found it hard to push Patton away though.

... wait...

"PATTON?! What are you doing here!?"

A new wave of adrenaline shoots through him, as he grabs the mans shoulders to pull him away far enough to meet his eyes- clinging to the warmth as much as he can.

"Well stormy knight, we couldnt very well leave our protector unprotected now could we?"

His head flips around to see Logan and Roman as well,

"But, the mission!? Why, why would you guys, I dont understand, I gave you the perfect escape!"

"The mission included the detail of all four of us making it home. While your actions were valiant, we could not stand by while you were in danger." His eyes darken as he glares after the barely there forms of the retreating enemies, "They were lucky I hadnt more time to prepare. It was a grave mistake to threaten you as they did."

"In due time my friend. We will ensure this never happens again." Roman puts a hand on both Logan and Virgils shoulders, Patton burrying himself agains Virgil again.

"Dont do that again okay? We need you."

And... maybe Virgil was starting to understand that.

#whumptober2022 #altprompt #touch starved #protective #sanders sides #fic #near death #angst #blood #injury #self sacrifice #bamf virgil #bamf logan #bamf roman #bamf patton #thomas sanders #fantasy au

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jrueships · 2 years

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I never payed any mind to Young and Collins until I stumbled across your blog and now I’m ASHDJDKS-ing because both times John got fouled Trae checked on him and then they walked down the court with their arms around each other 😫

YESSSSS my POWER my INFLUENCE !! my MALEWIFE GIRLBOSS P R O P A G A N D A !! it's about DRIVE it's about POWER it's about the CARING of a MAN from another MAN

LIKE... FOR INSTANT...CE (instance) .... hawks vs cavs play-in... A HUGE john collins malewife era. There's him sitting on the bench all hunched forward because he can't be a normal person chillin in some fancy smancy clothes NOOO he HAS to be IN the game COACHING AND OBSERVING diligent!! from the SIDELINES in stupid athletic clothing. Long sleeve white running jacket wearin ass. can't sit like a normal person ass. Kyphosis causin ass. Gay ass. Anyways, here's him (a normal man) normally watching trae normally a normal Amount. All is Good. . for Now.

TRAE HURT ?!?!????? TRAE HURT!!! TRAE HURT TRAE HURT ⁉️⁉️

why is john.. literally like. Cringing over it ? He looks like he's in more pain than trae, WHO IS IN ACTUAL PAIN??? LOOK AT HIS ARMS??? they go WHUHHUH?!??!? almost IMMEDIATELY. Like hes gonna just jump into the game and start whoopin some ass unwarrantedly all because his tiny comfort man got hurt ! ALSO... notice how John is the first to react to trae getting hurting.. literally no one else doin it like Him. It really makes you wonder just How he noticed so Fast ? ( he's gay and he was watching trae the entire time from the sidelines. . . You know... just... responsible team captain thaaangz. . .)

'TRAEEEEEEEE !!!!!!!!! TRAE!!! TrA E !!?!?? DID SOMEONE PUNCH YOU IN YOUR P*NIS TRAE?!??!?!?? DO YOU WANT ME TO PUNCH THEM IN T H E I R P*NIS?? I'LL PUNCH THEIR P*NIS , TRAE !!!!! I WILL! FOR YOU! J U S T for YOU!!!! TRAE!!! HANG ON BUDDY!!!' meanwhile trae just landed funny.. no one hurt him.. no one punched him in his p*nis.. John is just panicking and he's STILL the only one who's noticed.

John immediately crosses into court and calls a timeout because he has that homosexual power. And, as per usual, is RIGHT at trae's side like a concerned soccer mom seeing her kid get concussed by the boy with the bun. Wait. Are those. The Kanye Crocs. That's so. Im not gonna say anything actually. But that Did just add so many loser points to military brat John's cringe collection..

John then is the only teammate to help trae up. He probably orchestrated his solo help because he was literally watching trae the whole time and taking up all the close space around him. Unreasonable unhinged gay behavior we Love to See it. They are so tender... and only They can understand.... their weird little love

Real John milf body build right here. Oh and also the hand still on trae's arm even after trae is safely up... look at john .. lingering.. clinging to another man. So inspirational man

Trae then swings his arm around the help's shoulder so he can hobble back through the tunnel, but he accidentally swings off john's hand holding which is :( saddening :-(. John's a little upset by it but he still follows like a pitiful little puppy because he is but a simple dumbass in love with an evil little being

#malewife girlboss love cannot be toppled!#i gotta give yall the deets n differences on the girlbosses who get topped (kyle) and the girlbosssz who top (trae) tho #but for now... we focus on The Loyalty #the loyalty of two losers downbad and devoted #john being raised an orderly military man who loves to follow rules almost religiously #vs him falling in love with the baddest (and by bad i dont mean hot edgy bad but just bad in general: looks voice actions thoughts)boy trae #not in the sexy getaway on a motorcycle opposites attract because good loooves bad #but in the 'they both connect because theyre both dumbasses with more noticeable differences but nonetheless dumb'#the way they both watch out for the other... them being the first ones to each others side...#overreacting and ready to fight for their bf who probably just tripped on his own feet #theyd fight the dirt for each other and i Love that for them #john would scold the dirt&wag his finger while threatenin 'groundin the ground' then end up laughin2hard at his own stupid pun to remember #while trae would probably pour acid in the dirt or smthin #but theyd both punch it most definitely #nothin fulfills me more than somehow robing others into my multishipper schemes #my porpoise... my GOAL!!#trae gotta make sure john is alright!!!!! he cant risk losing him again!#he misses his malewife !!!!! having him trophy it up on the sidelines is NOT enough they need to be touching ALWAYS #nothing 'sus' about it <- yes there is there is So Much to be sus about actually like an overwhelming amount #im glad to have my gay ppl PROPAGANDA S P RE A D !!!! I care them so munch.. SO IT'S ALWAYS GOOD TO SEE OTHERS CARIN TOO!#now u shall be forever plauged by their boyfriend activities after every fall 😊😊 we love not being able to act normal #ted asks #john/trae #enjoyed this ask VERY much!!!!#their LOVE !!!

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fagderolo · 6 years

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hey this has little basis in canon but i wanna type out Smth abt it anyway bc i Gotta

one night, a seemingly peaceful one where molly is asleep in his usual place (fjords arms) when he gets a dream

no images, exactly, just the feeling of encroaching darkness and a sinister voice in his head

“you’re going to die the same way you woke up; alone and not knowing who you are”

the voice is still ringing in his ears as he wakes, looking out the window to see the moon still high in the sky, hands already beginning to shake as he scrambles off the bed

convinced that some entity, a vengeful god or whatever helped put this body in the dirt before, was hellbent on killing him, or at least making sure he died the way he was meant to

molly, as he was very occasionally wont to do, panics and starts trying to pack his things (only fjord and yasha had every been privy to these panicked episodes, sometimes stemming from the fear of not deserving his body, sometimes from the need to keep his loved ones out of danger, sometimes just because he feels like theyd be better without him somehow)

hes far too frantic to do it quietly (hands shaking even worse now, unbidden panicked tears running down his face even though hes never exactly been the crying type, the voice still loud in his brain) and fjord wakes up before hes even halfway through, stands and grabs molly in a hug from behind

molly jumps in surprise fights the hold for a few seconds before fjord talking gently to him hits his ears

it cuts through the other voice in his head, which is astonishing considering it still feels like its stuck in his brain (unbeknownst to either of them, it is. whoever said it is still there, still trying to push them away from each other)

it takes time (at first sitting on the floor in a pile together, then moved to the bed so theyre propped up, molly against fjords chest) but molly tells fjord what he heard, can almost feel fjords desire to protect emanating off him in waves

fjord tells him that theyll make sure it doesnt happen together, promises with everything he is, places a kiss on mollys forehead (and the top of his hair, and his cheeks, and his eyes, and finally his lips)

molly believes him, despite something lingering in the back of his head trying to convince him to not

#molly.txt #text #fjordmauk #fjolly #molly post #hi this is about evil wizard man tm this is... very personal 2 me #but its okay 2 rb just... treat me gently

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writingguide003-blog · 5 years

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Forget Dystopias, These Sci-Fi Writers Opt For Optimism Instead

New Post has been published on https://writingguideto.com/must-see/forget-dystopias-these-sci-fi-writers-opt-for-optimism-instead/

Forget Dystopias, These Sci-Fi Writers Opt For Optimism Instead

Its hot, and youre walking. Shuffling, actually. Youve spanned a seemingly endless chalk-dry plane, and youre thirsty, run-down, exhausted. You think about your flaking, parched lips and aching muscles, and about how your arduous journey will be worth it if you ever reach your destination. An immigrant, youre searching for a new place to live, because the place you call home has become barely livable. Youre thinking about the hot dirt sweat-caked on your skin when youre interrupted by an even greater pain — your tooth, recently implanted with a geo-location chip, is practically vibrating. This means youre close.

So begins Madeleine Ashbys short story, By the Time We Get to Arizona, published last year in Hieroglyph, a collection of science-fiction stories meant to inspire readers about the possibilities the future holds, rather than invoke fear about impending societal doom. Solutions to climate change catastrophes abound in the series; so do suggestions for jumping forward in our approach to space exploration technologies. Ashbys story — a spinoff of her Masters thesis on making border security more humane — explores a world where guns and guards are replaced by sensors and facial recognition technology.

Conceived of by Neal Stephenson — a celebrated writer whose most recent novel ventures a guess at what post-Earth diplomacy might look like — Hieroglyph showcases a growing crew of writers who, by commission or by choice, present sunnier alternatives to the now-prevalent, Hunger Games-fueled dystopia trend. These arent the stifling factions of Divergent or the heart-pounding twists and turns of The Maze Runner; they arent the bleak worlds crafted by Margaret Atwood or even the fable-like, anti-technology morals embedded in movies like Wall-E. Although many of the stories in Hieroglyph highlight societal problems, they have technological solutions to those problems embedded within them.

The anthology, along with the few others like it, was divisive in the science-fiction community. One camp, headed up by Stephenson, holds the belief that scientists and engineers could use a positive push from the writers whose job it is to imagine what the future will look like. Writers, Stephenson asserts, have a responsibility not only to confront social problems, but to provide potential solutions, too. So, a socially disheveled community like The Hunger Games Panem might feature a technology that allows citizens to communicate with each other, and fight back. Because these writers are using their fiction to provide solutions to contemporary problems, many necessarily couch their stories in grim scenarios the characters must escape from. Sexism, racism and classism are addressed, if subtly.

This doesnt sit well with the other school of readers and writers, who lament the days when an interstellar story was a joyride, whizzing quickly past social justice issues towards thrilling plot twists. One particularly rabid breed of decriers are the writers who make up a group called the Sad Puppies, who banded together during The Hugo Awards to stack the vote against minority and women writers. The problem, they claim, is that the science-fiction community has prioritized social justice and diversity, ignoring superior prose and more inventive stories as a result. Science-fiction, they say, is about fun. Its about escaping the problems of the real world through otherworldly scenarios — including dystopias — in which a central hero implausibly conquers evil alone, rather than with the aid of collective thinking and the useful technologies that arise from it.

The future of science-fiction — which, if George Orwells Nineteen Eighty-Four or Aldous Huxleys Brave New World are indicators, runs parallel with the future of science and technology on our own planet — probably lies somewhere on the vast, auroral spectrum between these two approaches. So, its worth examining both, and the groups of writers propelling them.

***

Now is not a time for realism, Margaret Atwood said in a recent interview with NPR, succinctly summarizing why so many literary writers flock to fantasy, to dystopia, to amplifying the threat of impending problems — environmental and political — that arent yet a reality.

Though the genre has seen a spike in popularity within teen-centric reading communities, its seeped into the realm of grown-up storytelling more than ever. Which isnt to say its unfamiliar territory for writers of adult literary fiction. In fact, dystopian stories began, arguably, with a weird, little book written by Mary Shelley in 1826 thats since become a beloved classic: The Last Man. The story centers on a plague-addled Europe, where a man named Lionel struggles to survive alongside various extant communities. Theres a false messiah, political turmoil, and all the other makings of a present-day dystopia. Though Shelleys book wasnt recognized until the 1960s, others like it by Jules Verne and H.G. Wells surfaced shortly thereafter, spawning a sub-genre of writing that asks timeless questions about human nature, and how it responds to dire, life-threatening scenarios.

But today, with a few notable exceptions (Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel, Gold Fame Citrus by Claire Vaye Watkins), popular dystopian stories have lost a bit of their original complexity. They tend to be thinly cloistered morality lessons, better suited for young readers. Rather than highlighting the nuances of human interactions, they tend to generalize, and draw hard lines between good and evil.

Why are more and more adult literary writers, and adult literary fiction readers, opting into the rather nihilistic and juvenile genre? Its a quandary posed again and again by columnists, providing more questions than answers — perhaps because the answer is hazy. It could be that the genre distracts readers from present realities, or provides a puzzle-like, limited scenario for a protagonist to work through, so different from the more fractured plot of real life. Or, it could be that our present realities seem increasingly fantastical, due to the quick proliferation of disastrous events filling our Twitter feeds alongside our friends quotidian musings.

Madeline Ashby believes its the latter.

There are elements of dystopia in everybodys lives, she said in an interview with The Huffington Post. Remember the Christmas protests in Ferguson? Theres this image of riot police under this big electrified, Seasons Greetings banner. If you search for Ferguson plus Seasons plus Greetings, youll find the picture. I found it, and I tweeted in all caps, WHY DO SO MANY KIDS LOVE DYSTOPIA? HM, I WONDER.

Ashby cites her own dystopia-like governmental interactions as inspiration for many of her sci-fi stories, including By the Time We Got to Arizona. In 2006, she immigrated to Canada, and says the process, for her, was dehumanizing.

My immigration took over a year, she said, adding that she feels fortunate — for other people immigrating to Canada, two years is the average wait-time.

During that process youre essentially a number and a sheet of paper. You feel it every time they ask you progressively more invasive questions, Ashby added, sharing an anecdote about how immigration questions reduce complex romantic relationships to statistics-based judgement calls. [Theyd ask] things like, Can you describe to us the number and monetary value of gifts exchanged between the two of you. And then you start to think, oh, OK, the quality of my relationship is already interpreted through capital. I have a monetary value.

In her short story, Ashby acknowledges these issues, but also offers solutions to the problem. She notes that by working change-inspiring technologies into her plots, she’s at the very least offering readers a sense of hope.

Dystopia is very useful in grappling with the world as it exists, Ashby said. Its a really stylized, formalized way of talking about things that are already happening in practice. But utopia, or more optimistic stories, can also be useful, because you can imagine a future that you actually want.

Ashbys fiction is informed by her other, more technical approach to writing. After studying Strategic Foresight and Innovation at the Ontario College of Art and Design, she started getting gigs drafting potential future scenarios for organizations such as Intel Labs and Nesta. Envisioning the future on behalf of corporations and research labs isnt exactly an established career path — actually, it sounds a little like something out of a sci-fi novel. But Ashby isnt the only writer who moonlights as a narrative scenario practitioner. Theres a host of organizations dedicated to allowing sci-fi writers to draft potential outcomes for specific companies or entire industries. Sci Futures, a sort of think tank dedicated to providing these services to clients such as Crayola, Ford, and Lowes, has a pithy tagline encapsulating their mission: “Where sci-fi gets real. A comparable organization, 2020 Media Futures, describes its mission as, an ambitious, multi-industry strategic foresight project designed to understand and envision what media may look like in the year 2020.

So, the research interests are vast. Of her work with Intel Labs and beyond, Ashby said, They often tell me, we want the future of intelligent systems, or the future of warfare in smart cities, the future of a world without antibiotics, the future of programmable matter, or the Internet of things.

Because Ashby spends considerable time dreaming up innovative solutions to social problems, she cant help but imbue her stories with similar gizmos and features. Her stories dont always involve positive situations for her characters, but they do often incorporate technologies that could solve said characters problems.

This is the central tenet of techno-optimism, the breed of science-fiction writing thats working to counter the rough terrain of dystopia, barren and desolate as it is; thirsty, it sometimes seems, for a solution thats bigger than a big-hearted narrator.

Writer and anthology editor Kathryn Cramer was a reluctant adopter of the genre. When aforementioned writer Stephenson, author of Seveneves, approached her to edit a collection of stories united under the banner of positive change, she worried the stories themselves would suffer from lack of plot, and lack of diversity. But, as she commissioned works of techno-optimism, she realized the genre promotes diverse voices rather than suppressing them. Her fears were quelled.

When we contemplate dark scenarios or disasters for the future, it is perhaps an ethically and morally good thing to do to figure out what the solutions might be, especially technological solutions, Cramer said in an interview with HuffPost. If we look at the 20th century, there are a whole lot of things that changed our lives in good ways, and solved a lot of problems, ranging from vaccines and refrigerated food transportation to frozen food. Some of them are sexy, like space travel, but a lot of them are things that improved everybodys lives in ways we might notve expected. Preservatives, things like that.

Cramers altruistic outlook hints at her thoughts on what a book can, and should, accomplish. While she believes writers have a responsibility to push innovation in a positive direction, some readers and writers think that mindset interferes with the quality of a story. So addressing societal problems, be it via extended, post-apocalyptic metaphors, or via similarly bleak settings peppered with hope, doesnt sit well with all sci-fi readers. Most notably, there are those — cue the Sad Puppies — who are nostalgic for the days of so-called Golden Age sci-fi: Star Trek-like space-travel adventures that offer a means of briefly escaping the restrictions of the real world. Nimble writing and world-building is supposedly the aim for such stories; political opinions, solutions-oriented and otherwise, are actively eschewed.

But the Puppies agenda — which resulted in No Award being given at the Hugo Awards this year in categories for which only white men were nominated — extends beyond particular tastes in writing styles. Claiming science-fiction has opted for affirmative action-guided decisions rather than supporting story-centric writing, they lobbied to place white, male writers — including themselves — on the award ballots.

Ashby spoke passionately against the Puppies movement: Thats part of their battle cry: Why do we have to think about social issues in our science fiction? Why do we have to think about other genders, or sexualities, or economic circumstances? Why cant it just be fun like it used to be? Well, yeah, Im sure it was really fun when you werent thinking about it. Everythings a lot more fun when youre not thinking about it.

Thinking about it, according to Ashby, involves confronting the dire state of life for some social groups. It involves constructing a narrative that encourages the reader to consider the lives of others, rather than just getting lost in his own fantasy world, in which he alone is the hero and the solution. It involves hope not in the form of a triumphant narrator, but in the technologies we can create when we do something really miraculous: work together.

Read more: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/

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bluelilliesmay-blog · 6 years

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I don't know who I am anymore. I don't necessarily like anything, but everything aggravates me. I don't know where I'm going. I only slightly remember where I've been sometimes. All I know, is that I am not happy. For years now, they've told me it gets better. But recently, in a conversation with my cousin he said to me; "I'm wondering when it actually gets better. They've told me that my whole life and I'm 30. It hasn't gotten any better..." & at that moment I realized that chances are the saying doesn't go to show. Its wrong. Life does not get better. Days are good, some times weeks and months are too. If you're lucky, years. But with every fiber in myself I know that it will not always be good. Most of the time it is going to be very very unpleasant. What i ask myself, however, is how can i make my time on this miserable dirt marble a slight bit better. And I'm indefinitely halted by doubts and just .... Complete mystery in regards to how to make my life... More ... Wholesome, if you will. Especially considering I'm already failing miserably..... I'm in need of someone to just.... I wish life came with a guide. To just... Tell me how to live. How do i feel pretty? How do I eat normally? How do i function without losing all my energy in 10 seconds? How do i ..... Do? To be honest. Im at loss for my life right now. I'm always at home. Alone. No job. Cant seem to get one because I broke my glasses and dont have the funds to fix them .. But none of that matters because I have no car to take me to the places I need to go. I mean, unless you count the two individuals I reside with. The two who constantly shove down my throats everything ive done wrong. Every mistake, every failure, relived every day. Like the guillotine constantly overhead. Ready to slice my neck with insults at any second. Without warning, and most definitely without mercy. Then, there's my saving grace. Him. The one person i call home. Issues . .... Issues are there. Though.... I love him. Im in love with him. I'm attracted to him. He doesnt feel like I love him. I don't feel like he loves me. He provides for me. He doesnt feel like im in love with him. Sometimes, I feel he isnt in love with me. Every five minutes we tell each other that we love each other. He doesnt trust me. I divide myself from the world through anxiety and destructive social behavior. I beg and plead for his respect. I wish all the bad times weve endured would dissapear. Go away. As if they never occured. The cheating. The drugs. The fights. Maybe. .. Just maybe then id feel better. Maybe if id never become addicted. Maybe if id never left their sight. Maybe if id have consistently been obedient and just been the sheltered little girl they wanted, theyd be prous of me. Proud of me like I wish the parents i never had were. Parents who started to early, and tried to "care" (if at all) too late..... I'm scrambling with every thought going through my head. This started off as a beauty-writing. It was supposed to be poetic. This is just pathetic. I'm pathetic. An ex drug addict who cant get a job. So broke she cant even afford to get her glasses fixed. So depressed she can't get out of bed most days. So riddled with anxiety every situation is a set up. So bitter the world is hell. So cold she can't connect to anyone. I just wish someone could tell me what is wrong with me.

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bluelilliesmay-blog · 6 years

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