#for folks who need a forced editor

[witchywcmans]

AGAINST THE LAW. | KEN RYUGUJI

synopsis ━━ after one too many trips to the auto repair shop with your old car, you realize you can focus on your work tasks so much better in the waiting room. but when the head mechanic notices you've been loitering, you recognize him instantly: ken ryuguji. there’s zero chance you’re getting out of this one. (older!draken x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ missionary position on a motorcycle (hey, this is fiction), cunnilingus + fingering, praise, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (i.e. cherry), mentions loss of virginity in the past, mutual pining, au as helllll, draken is in his late 20s and a mechanic. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.2k

song inspiration ━━ one for the road, arctic monkeys / one of the girls, the weeknd / fallen star, the neighbourhood

author's note ━━ ok off the bat, I just wanna say this fic was completely inspired by this movie called wait with me. my friends and I like to watch passionflix movies for the laughs, but this one wasn't. well horrible. if you watch it, don't expect oscar-worthy performances, but it was fun and stupid and yeah, it made me think about what if part of this concept was applied to draken when he was older, workin as a mechanic. idk. I'm not caught up on the manga whatsoever so take this as a major au lol

Your car was a piece of shit, but that wasn’t the only reason you ended up sitting in the waiting room at the mechanic’s more than usual. A police officer would call it loitering. You, on the other hand, called it a safe space. For the past couple of weeks, your car had been in and out of the shop due to a faulty ignition sensor that your mechanic couldn’t nail down until your car broke down on the side of the highway. For the third time. Needless to say, it had been a stressful past month. The car issues had been one thing, but then there was all the pressure at work. And for some reason, you began to find comfort in working at the mechanic’s waiting room.

Your work as a journalist was very important to you. A perfectionist at heart, you needed to be in the right zone, the right state of mind, to write. Unfortunately, you weren’t someone who could sit at your desk at home for hours, typing away at the speed of light, and you definitely couldn’t focus at a coffee shop. You tried a plethora of other places. The local park: your laptop died. The library: teenagers still whispered too loud even in the quietest of places. The McDonald's parking lot: you got distracted by your hunger. Nowhere was right … until you were forced to work from your mechanic’s waiting room while he worked on your car. 

Even when your mechanic figured out the issue, you couldn’t help but sneak in through the entrance late mornings and work on your articles. The waiting room was just so … quiet, even more quiet than a library. There was hardly anyone in there besides the retired folk who could wait all day for their car to be fixed. You had a coffee machine at your disposable – not good coffee, but good enough – and a selection of snacks from the vending machine. It was pure bliss. You liked to hole yourself up in the corner, picking out different outfits that would conceal your face enough, and type away until the sun began to set. No one said a word to you. No one batted an eye.

So, as you can see, it was a surprise to you when someone eventually approached you two months into your loitering scheme.

It was just about closing time and you were shoving your laptop in your backpack after sending off another draft to your editor. A pair of feet appeared in front of your chair, and when you looked up at the young mechanic chewing on the end of a toothpick, you knew you were fucked. 

“Toyota,” he said without missing a beat, knowing your car from the top of his head, “ignition sensor, right?”

You paused, sliding on your backpack. Could you make a break for it? “Um … correct.”

“That was fixed weeks ago,” he said, slapping a dirty rag on his shoulder, car keys dangling from the other hand. 

Your mouth went completely dry. How the fuck could you explain this without coming off as a total weirdo? Your hands gripped the straps of your backpack for dear life. This was so embarrassing.

Before you could reply, the young mechanic gestured to the back door with his chin. “Follow me,” he said. “Boss wants to talk to ‘ya.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Still fiddling with your backpack straps, you knew there was no choice but to follow this guy. He led you through the back door and into the main workshop area of the shop. There were some cars left on a few lifts, ready to be inspected tomorrow, and the shelves packed with parts seemed to be in disarray. Besides that, there was no one in here but you, the young mechanic, and whoever this “boss” was still working in the back of the shop. You had never met the owner of the shop before; you typically worked with your mechanic and no one else.

You took down the hood that you’d been wearing today. There was no use in hiding your face now.

“Here she is, boss,” the man beside you said, still twirling those keys. “Can I go home now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boss replied, hidden behind the huge motorcycle he was working on. “Good work today.”

The younger man left, the bell above the office door jingling, and now it was just two: you and this so-called boss you’d never met. You stood there in silence, hands fidgeting with anxiety, as you waited for the boss to say something. From behind the motorcycle, all you could see was a flash of blonde hair and smoke puffing out into the dingy air. It smelled like motor oil and cigarettes back here.

You lifted your foot – maybe it was time to try and sprint out – but then a deep voice entered the work space.

“You know that loitering is against the law, right?”

That voice … it was familiar, but you couldn’t put a pin on it. And then, the boss was standing up, and you saw the tuft of blonde hair slicked back, the shaved sides on his head. That infamous dragon tattoo still on his left temple. The little hoop on his left ear was accompanied by a few other small piercings. He was still the same height – over six feet – but had grown some muscle. His hands were calloused from all those years of fighting, and now, from heavy labor. And those eyes … they were still as stormy and dark as the first day you saw him in school.

This wasn’t just embarrassing. This was mortifying.

“C’mon, Cherry,” Draken said, instantly recognizing you and your old nickname, “you know you can’t loiter in my shop.”

Cherry. You hadn’t been called that since … well, since high school. Your classmates hadn’t started calling you that because of a specific physical trait. To your face, you were told the nickname was for your quick skill of tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. You had been the best, after all. But unbeknownst to you, the nickname came from when Mikey Sano, the infamous former leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang, popped your cherry.

You hadn’t even liked Mikey at the time. You were just sweet sixteen, and he was a year older, and you had assumed it would be better for your first to be someone with experience. Unfortunately, Mikey Sano had no experience. The sex had been awkward and terrible, as most first times between teenagers are, but at least you could say that you lost your virginity to the leader of Toman. Your eyes had always been on someone else, though. Someone who you had been too nervous to talk to, who you had only shared just a few interactions with. You never had a crush on Mikey as a teenager; you had always liked –

“Draken,” you said finally, shock lining your voice. Your eyes formed into wide saucers. It had been so long, and he was here. This whole time. Right under your nose. How surprised did you look right now?

He chuckled, wiping his hands off on a rag. The cigarette dangling from his lips was plucked out, and he stabbed it into an ashtray. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Oh, so you did look that shocked to see him.

He threw the tool he’d been using on a bench and stepped around the bike. “I really don’t go by Draken anymore,” he continued, sitting down on the rusted motorcycle, stretching his legs out. “Just call me, Ken.”

You were speechless. Were you breathing right now? You had to admit … you still found him to be handsome. He always had been. God, you were obsessed with him in high school, but always hid your crush in the shadows. Not even your friends knew about it, but you’d made it obvious, even if you didn’t know it. And now … he’d gotten better with age. The lines underneath his eyes told a story, as well as the scars etched into his veiny forearms. He could have more that you couldn’t see underneath the tattoos on his arms. Your mouth was so dry from staring at him that you had to lick the corners of your lips.

“Ken,” you said in a single breath, lacing your hands together in front of your body. You hadn’t moved from your spot, even when he was looking at you so casually. “I’m so sorry for loitering. Please, don’t call the cops on me. Or something. I have a reason –”

“Me? Call the police?” He laughed again, and it was just like how you remembered. “Do you know me at all, Cherry?”

Once you found the courage to breathe again, you stepped forward. Then another. And another. “I guess I don’t,” you shrugged, still playing with your hands. “I guess I just knew of you.”

“And I knew of you, all those years ago.” He smiled like you two were in on a secret. The rag that had been in his hands was tossed onto his left shoulder. He was wearing a pair of grey coveralls stained with oil, but the top half was unzipped and tied around his waist, leaving him in just a white tank top on his torso, which hugged his muscles so nicely. “So, tell me then. What’s the reason for your loitering?”

This had to be the most words shared between you two than all those years at school together. You thought about pinching yourself, just to check if this was all part of an elaborate dream. Or nightmare, depending on how it ended.

“Um …” You rubbed the back of your neck, blushing slightly. “Well, you see … the waiting room at your shop is very … quiet.”

His brow raised. “So I’ve been told.” He stared you down. “C’mon, out with it.”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because we went to school together!”

“Oh, you know that means noth –”

“I’m a journalist and I write my articles better in your waiting room,” you finally answered, crossing your arms over your chest. “There. I said it.”

Draken couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He knew he promised, but the giggles bubbled up inside him, forcing themselves to emerge. You looked at him incredulously, blinking too fast. All you wanted right now was to crawl into a hole and be left alone. You had to find a new mechanic after this.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you sighed.

He waved his hand as his laughter died down. “I’m not. I promise.” Finally, his shoulders sagged again and he stood up. “I think it’s really cool that you … like my waiting room so much.”

You found your lips pulling into a smile at the same time as him. The tension broke and you felt your dimples crease. “I also like all the little snacks in the machine.”

“And the coffee?” He added.

You shrugged. “Could use some work.”

Draken laughed again, and just the sound of it made butterflies form in your stomach. You never had such a reaction to someone laughing before. What was wrong with you?

He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his coveralls. “It’s … really nice to see you again, Cherry.”

You mimicked his actions, instead sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “You too, Ken.”

“I won’t bust you for loitering, by the way. Even if it is against the law,” he chuckled under his breath, whipping the rag off his shoulder once again. “Come over here. Let me show you what I’m working on.”

His tone was so casual, as if years hadn’t passed between you two, as if this wasn’t the most you talked in years. You set your backpack down and approached him in front of the bike. Your fingers ran over the slope of the seat, all new despite the rusty exterior of the motorcycle. “That’s new leather,” he informed you. “Feel free to test it out. I need someone else’s butt on this thing so I know if I chose a good material.”

You giggled, all light and flirty. You simply couldn’t help it, especially when he looked at you with those dark eyes, the corners creasing when he smiled. Without missing a beat, you sat down on the side of the bike, like he had minutes ago, and looked up at him. He was tall, but from this seat, he was even taller. 

He pointed to the wheel of the bike, and then the headlight. “I just started replacing the …” His voice drowned out as you simply focused on his lips. His mouth quirked as he explained what he fixed so far on the bike. You watched his finger dance around the bike, taking in the rough exterior of his hands up close. They were so much bigger now, amongst other things –

“So how’s that seat?”

You blinked, bringing yourself out of your horny stupor. “Oh, um – comfy. Very comfy.” You cleared your throat. “So … is this for a customer?”

“It’s mine. This is a personal project,” he explained, leaning slightly to the left, closer to you. “I wouldn’t be working on anything this late except if it was for me.”

His eyes were on you again, drinking you in as you sat on the bike. He placed his hand on the fuel tank, so close to yours. Your stomach was definitely doing flip-flops now, especially when you noticed the way his eyes raked down your figure. You wished you’d chosen something better to wear, something other than a pair of jeans and a cropped hoodie, but you’d only expected to be getting work done in the waiting room today. Not to be confronted by your old school crush. But it looked like it didn’t matter to him. The way he was looking at you … it felt like you were naked.

“It really is nice to see you again,” he said, voice just slightly above a whisper. His stance changed and he moved to stand between your legs.

You bit your lip for a moment. “You already said that.”

“You’re right. Uh … I …” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, breaking his nerves. “You just … look very pretty … sitting on my bike.”

You looked down at yourself. The way you sat with your legs spread wide was anything but attractive, and it wasn’t like you were wearing a cute, little dress. “I do?”

But when you lifted your stare again, his face was so much closer to yours. He was leaning down now, bracing two hands on the leather seat, and trying to pretend like he wasn’t inhaling your perfume. You just smelled … so good. Like strawberries and apples and … cherries. Red, ripened cherries. And the way you were sitting on that seat, eyes wide and cheeks blushing from being caught earlier. Fuck, it reminded him of the first time he saw you in high school. He had been a horny teenager, of course, but the way he saw you tie that cherry stem with your tongue … you were the first person he ever jerked off to the thought of. He had never made a move on you – ever – but at this moment, he was glad. Because things would’ve been different, and you never would’ve ended up loitering at his shop, and you never would’ve been sitting so pretty on his bike, all these years later.

“I just …” He trailed off, words failing him, as he lifted a hand to skim it over your jawline. “You can tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Your eyes simply batted up at him, leaning into his touch when his fingers caressed your cheek. Your skin immediately flushed. You were so soft, and warm, and god, did his skin prickle when he touched you. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He muttered, voice gravely. You nodded instantly, and his thumb went to trace the outline of your lips. “I had always been … jealous that Mikey got to you first.”

Had your feelings in high school been reciprocated and you didn’t even know it? You licked at the corners of your lips, your tongue quickly flicking his thumb in the process. “You were?” You asked, already feeling yourself getting wet from just him tracing your lips. “I … never really liked Mikey anyways.” You then shook your head. “It feels silly to talk about this so many years later –”

Draken turned your face back to his, looking into your eyes sternly. “You never liked Mikey,” he said, point blank, pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the fingertip. You shook your head at his question.

His breath hitched. Just the sight of your lips around his thumb had him adjusting himself in his pants. He could feel his cock start to swell with need, causing him to mumble a soft, “Fuck,” under his breath.

You weren’t just wet now. You were soaked.

You slipped your mouth off his thumb, leaving a tiny trail of spit. His face immediately got closer, his lips grazing yours. He could tell they were soft, and even your chapstick smelled like cherries. God, how could he be so hard already? “I liked you back when we were teenagers,” you confessed, reaching out to hook your thumbs in the belt loops on his coveralls. “I was too scared to say anything, and Mikey … he’d just been there. Right place at the right time. We really didn’t feel anything for each other.”

Your words stirred something within him, something more than jealousy. Was it regret? The fact that he could’ve had you, all those years ago, if he’d just manned up and asked. He could’ve fought people all day, but when it came to asking out the girl he liked, he’d sat back, let his best friend pop your cherry. It should’ve been him. Fuck, it could’ve been him. 

His lips pressed to yours instantly, needing to taste the sweetness on your lips. His tongue darted out, swiping at that cherry flavor, and he moaned. Actually moaned. Draken wasn’t known to be weak for anyone, but you … you had always been a different story. You pulled him in closer by his belt loops, tipping your face up as he leaned over you. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue slipping past your lips once again to explore your mouth. He gripped the edge of the seat, his other hand cradling your jaw, and you wanted him so much closer. If he just put his knee between your legs, you could –

There it was. He did it, placing his knee right in the perfect spot. You bucked your hips up, setting a slow grind against his knee as he kissed you with feverish intent. Moans fell from your lips and into the kiss, making the tent in his pants grow bigger every passing second. He was so fucking hard now, and he needed more of you. He would have more of you.

“No, stop,” he muttered, breaking the kiss and moving his knee away. You huffed with disappointment, wanting that delicious friction once again, but when you opened your eyes, he was staring at you with purpose. “Please, let me taste you.”

You nodded dumbly, eyes blown out with lust. All you could say was, “Okay.”

In another life, you would’ve said something endearing, or maybe even hit him with a little dirty talk. But you absolutely couldn’t right now. Your head was swimming, the image of him unzipping your jeans and taking them off felt like it was out of a fever dream. Is this what it felt like to drown? No, you were breathing – just about – and Draken was throwing your pants off to the side, kneeling before you. Your legs spread wide as you sat on the bike. Surely, there could’ve been a better place to do this, but the way he was staring at your soaked panties, pushing them to the side to take in your pussy … you knew there was no stopping him. This was just his first course of the night.

His tongue dove between your wet folds, drinking you in like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. You knew you were done for when his arms wrapped around your legs, holding them apart, giving himself better access to one thing he’d craved for years. He rolled his tongue over your swollen clit, enjoying the sounds that slipped out of your mouth. You muttered obscenities, bucked your hips without thinking, pulled on his slicked-back hair. Anything to give you more friction on your precious, aching clit.

He dragged his tongue down, pushing it inside your warmth, collecting the arousal and groaning like a man starved. Fucking his tongue into you, he angled his nose to brush your clit, and you just about mewled. You had spent so many years either having mediocre sex or stressing over this stupid job, when this – this man you had been in love with in school – was here the whole time, just dreaming about the day he could eat your pussy. So much time wasted, so many fake orgasms, while Ken Ryuguji owned your favorite auto shop, so close to you and right under your nose. 

You were pretty sure the seat on this bike had to have been ruined. Draken was turning you into a wet mess, making your hips buck against his face. His lips wrapped your beloved clit, sucking and pulling, needing more – so much more – of you. Slipping two fingers inside you, he pumped them fast. It didn’t take long for his fingers to curl and find that sweet spot that had your core trembling around him. He didn’t know what he’d do if you came on his face. Honestly, he’d probably cum in his pants on the spot.

“C’mon … c’mon … you can cum in my m–mouth –” He was practically begging, his voice muffled from deep within your thighs. “Tastes so, so good … fuck, Cherry, fuck –”

You couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t even think about anything but the way his tongue lapped at your clit, before you were cumming on his tongue, your arousal smearing all over his lips. He moaned the second he got just a hint of your essence, burying his face more into your legs. You tasted better than candy, than cherries, than menthol cigarettes. He could spend forever between these thighs, drinking you in and listening to your desperate moans.

Once your body stopped shaking, he dragged his tongue one last time through your folds, making sure he didn’t miss a drop. You yelped from the overstimulation, and when you opened your eyes, he was rising from in between your legs. His licked at your slick still staining his lips, bringing your mouth to his again, letting you taste yourself. Your hands fisted into his shirt, downright desperate for more of him. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled back.

“I know it’s not ideal, given the place we’re in, but …” He cradled your face in both in his hands, as if you were just a baby bird. “Can I fuck you, Cherry?”

You nodded without hesitation, already drunk on his touch. You weren’t exactly sure how he planned on doing this. I mean … you two were in the dirty workshop area of an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly the best place to have sex. But then he was adjusting your position on the motorcycle, laying your head down by the handlebar and pulling your legs on both sides of the seat, your ass resting nicely in the curve. His hands were quick to roll off your panties.

“Ken,” you called out, sitting up a little and dragging your hand up. His white tank bunched up at the waist. “Wanna see more of you …”

Draken was so goddamn hard in his pants, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of being inside you, but you were just so pretty and he was putty in your hands. He let your palms explore him, lifting his tank top up so you could see what the fabric had been concealing. He’d really filled out since school – his arms were toned, his abdomen more defined. He looked like the statue of Apollo, all lean and muscled, but with just the right amount of grit. You liked that he never got his dragon tattoo removed (although, that would’ve been very painful), and that his piercings remained the same. Everything about him seemed untouched, but he’d just gotten better with age. Just the sight of him made your mouth water.

You leaned back down on the bike, bringing him down with you. Your lips pressed against his hungrily, and he was so, so tempted to slip his tongue into your mouth, when he felt his cock hard as a rock in his pants, aching and pulsating. His mouth broke away from yours, and he whispered, quite hopelessly, “I’m so sorry, but I really, really need to be inside you or my dick is going to explode.”

A chuckle escaped your lips, and just the sound of it made Draken smile. You nodded, urging him to continue, and he quickly unzipped the bottom half of his coveralls. He took his cock out: it was long, curved, pink at the tip, and leaking precum on the shop floor. All the more reason to be inside you; he couldn’t have his mechanics seeing that on the floor and wondering what he was doing after hours. He pulled a condom out from his wallet and slid the ribbed rubber on. Lifting both your legs onto his shoulders, your ass was almost rising off the seat and he positioned himself between your thighs, noticing the way your slick was smeared all over his seat. He grunted at the sight of it, slamming his cock into your without thinking.

You cried out, feeling him so deep so quickly. He held your legs up, leaning down as far as he could, and muttered, “Fuck, I’m sorry – so sorry – just … needed to be inside you. Needed to fuck you on my bike.”

You hand came up to cup his chin for a moment. “S’okay,” you promised, “just fuck me like you should’ve done years ago, Draken.”

He knew he told you to call him Ken, but just the nickname falling your lips in such a filthy manner had him groaning. Draken pulled out of you until only the tip remained, and then pounded his cock back inside you. You keened, trying to close your legs, but he held them up by his shoulders. He set a fast pace inside you, unable to keep his moans at bay, and slipped one hand off your leg to snake his fingers up your hoodie, pushing it up to your chin. Pulling your breasts out from your bra, his eyes clouded and played with your sensitive nipples. “So good,” he muttered, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment. “Feels so, so good … needed you for so long, Cherry.”

“I know, I know, Draken,” you whimpered, locking your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to yours, your thighs now curling against your chest. Your back ached against the seat and your legs burned from the uncomfortable position, but you wouldn’t dare push him away, not when he was filling you like this. 

With his lips just grazing yours, he tugged on your lip, making you moan, and he fucked into you harder. Your nails were now dragging down his shoulders, leaving marks that he’d think about forever. “Fuck, I’m s’deep … so deep inside you. You’re so warm, so wet – fuck, I’m so close already.”

“Wait for me,” you begged, sighing as his cock curved against your sweet spot. “Wanna cum with you, Draken.”

“I know, Cherry,” he grunted, his pace relentless. Fuck, this was all he ever needed, all he wanted to do, forever. It felt like you were made to take him. “Touch yourself f’me. Cum together … we’ll cum together.”

You nodded quickly, moving your hand in between your bodies, finding your puffy clit so easily. A whine escaped your lips as you fingers rubbed little circles, getting you so close already. You just needed a little push. Draken was slamming into you, his breaths fanning your cheeks, and when he felt your legs start to shake, your walls clenching just a little, he almost died. “Such a good girl …” He cooed, nose brushing yours. “Touching yourself f’me so nicely … fuck, you take me so well … yes, yes, you’re so close. Just like that.”

Your fingers rubbed a little faster, and you knew your orgasm was imminent. With him pushing into you, filling you completely, and the stimulation on your clit … you felt your lips purse into an O-shape. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Draken. I’m gonna … fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, I know,” he groaned. “Fuck – gonna cum too. That’s a good girl … doing so good – fuck –”

His release came first. He had been close for so long, Draken was surprised he’d been able to hold back. He came with a loud groan, spilling himself into the condom, and it was only seconds later that your jaw went slack with pleasure. His name fell from your lips in a whimper, and you kept rubbing that aching clit through your orgasm, going tight around his cock. He wouldn’t stop fucking into you, even when your orgasm subsided, needing to feel you clench around him for just a moment longer. The way he filled you wasn’t like any other. You never wanted to feel empty again. You couldn’t, not when you knew how Ken Ryuguji felt inside you.

When you both eventually stopped trembling, he gently placed your legs back down on the sides of the bike. They felt sore and limp, but that was the last thing on your mind. You opened your eyes at the same time, and you both couldn’t help but laugh at the position you were in, the absurdity of it all. The workshop smelled like gas and oil, and you were surrounded by broken-down cars. But you two had fucked like you were in a bedroom, on a soft mattress, rather than a motorcycle. You hand went over your mouth to suppress your giggles.

Draken smiled with you, and then removed your hand, liking the way you laughed. “I know it’s been a long time coming, but … can I take you out some night?”

You couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. “I’d like that, Ken.”

His cock had gone soft, but he was still nestled inside you, basking in your warmth. Draken wished he could be inside you forever, with your fingers playing with his hair. He would give anything for this moment to last, but he knew this position on the bike had to be the most uncomfortable for you, and he needed to take off this condom. He chuckled under his breath.

“Also, in case you were wondering,” he said, lips pulling into a smirk. “You can loiter around my waiting room anytime.”

[anarchywoofwoof]

People in the U.S. are preoccupied with voting to an unhealthy degree. This is not to say that everyone votes, or thinks voting is effective or worthwhile; on the contrary, a smaller and smaller proportion of the eligible population votes every election year, and that’s not just because more and more people are in prison. But when you broach the question of politics, of having a say in the way things are, voting is just about the only strategy anyone can think of—voting, and influencing others’ votes.

Could it be this is why so many people feel so disempowered? Is anonymously checking a box once a year, or every four years, enough to feel included in the political process, let alone play a role in it?

But what is there besides voting? In fact, voting for people to represent your interests is the least efficient and effective means of applying political power. The alternative, broadly speaking, is acting directly to represent your interests yourself. This is known in some circles as “direct action.”

Direct action is occasionally misunderstood to mean another kind of campaigning, lobbying for influence on elected officials by means of political activist tactics; but it properly refers to any action or strategy that cuts out the middle man and solves problems directly, without appealing to elected representatives, corporate interests, or other powers.

Concrete examples of direct action are everywhere. When people start their own organization to share food with hungry folks, instead of just voting for a candidate who promises to solve “the homeless problem” with tax dollars and bureaucracy, that’s direct action.

When a man makes and gives out fliers addressing an issue that concerns him, rather than counting on the newspapers to cover it or print his letters to the editor, that’s direct action.

When a woman forms a book club with her friends instead of paying to take classes at a school, or does what it takes to shut down an unwanted corporate superstore in her neighborhood rather than deferring to the authority of city planners, that’s direct action, too.

Direct action is the foundation of the old-fashioned can-do American ethic, hands-on and no- nonsense. Without it, hardly anything would get done. In a lot of ways, direct action is a more effective means for people to have a say in society than voting is.

For one thing, voting is a lottery—if a candidate doesn’t get elected, then all the energy his constituency put into supporting him is wasted, as the power they were hoping he would exercise for them goes to someone else. With direct action, you can be sure that your work will offer some kind of results; and the resources you develop in the process, whether those be experience, contacts and recognition in your community, or organizational infrastructure, cannot be taken away from you.

Voting consolidates the power of a whole society in the hands of a few politicians; through force of sheer habit, not to speak of other methods of enforcement, everyone else is kept in a position of dependence. Through direct action, you become familiar with your own resources and capabilities and initiative, discovering what these are and how much you can accomplish.

Voting forces everyone in a movement to try to agree on one platform; coalitions fight over what compromises to make, each faction insists that they know the best way and the others are messing everything up by not going along with their program. A lot of energy gets wasted in these disputes and recriminations. In direct action, on the other hand, no vast consensus is necessary: different groups can apply different approaches according to what they believe in and feel comfortable doing, which can still interact to form a mutually beneficial whole.

People involved in different direct actions have no need to squabble, unless they really are seeking conflicting goals (or years of voting have taught them to fight with anyone who doesn’t think exactly as they do). Conflicts over voting often distract from the real issues at hand, as people get caught up in the drama of one party against another, one candidate against another, one agenda against another. With direct action, on the other hand, the issues themselves are raised, addressed specifically, and often resolved.

Voting is only possible when election time comes around.

Direct action can be applied whenever one sees fit.

Voting is only useful for addressing whatever topics are current in the political agendas of candidates, while direct action can be applied in every aspect of your life, in every part of the world you live in.

Voting is glorified as “freedom” in action. It’s not freedom— freedom is getting to decide what the choices are in the first place, not picking between Pepsi and Coca-Cola.

Direct action is the real thing. You make the plan, you create the options, the sky’s the limit.

Ultimately, there’s no reason the strategies of voting and direct action can’t both be applied together. One does not cancel the other out. The problem is that so many people think of voting as their primary way of exerting political and social power that a disproportionate amount of everyone’s time and energy is spent deliberating and debating about it while other opportunities to make change go to waste. For months and months preceding every election, everyone argues about the voting issue, what candidates to vote for or whether to vote at all, when voting itself takes less than an hour.

Vote or don’t, but get on with it!

Remember how many other ways you can make your voice heard. This being an election year, we hear constantly about the options available to us as voters, and almost nothing about our other opportunities to play a decisive role in our society. What we need is a campaign to emphasize the possibilities more direct means of action and community involvement have to offer. These need not be seen as in contradiction with voting.

We can spend an hour voting once a year, and the other three hundred sixty four days and twenty three hours acting directly! Those who are totally disenchanted with representative democracy, who dream of a world without presidents and politicians, can rest assured that if we all learn how to apply deliberately the power that each of us has, the question of which politician is elected to office will become a moot point.

They only have that power because we delegate it to them! A campaign for direct action puts power back where it belongs, in the hands of the people from whom it originates.

(Crimethinc, 2004)

[dyke-pollinator]

Yall I am being hit with a wave of nostalgia for a time that will (almost certainly) never exist again.

A lot of folks talk about the early days of the internet, before it was turned into a commodity, before everything had ads, when it was a tool to connect with other people, share passions, and also heavily unregulated. A place you could find almost anything, good or bad. And yeah, I miss that. A lot. It was a beautiful time. But I really wish I could truly explain to the folks that missed it, something that is often forgotten about, is how much online gaming has changed as well.

I'm thinking about the early days of Blizzard. Of Warcraft, Starcraft, and the beauty of Battle.Net. Of course there were other at the time, but I dont know of anything that was quite so popular.

This was a place where, if you had the game (whether obtained legally or not) you could just, go and play with other people. Sure, that exists now, but not in the same way. This wasnt just online matchmaking, or a way to find people to play with. It was an entire social platform where you could form groups, add friends, and find people who liked to play the same way as you. There were different channels for various interests. It was like a proto social media, specifically focused on connecting people who loved the game. And it was all free.

And thats just the tip of it. The custom game maps were unreal. Blizzard had included a completely free, easy to use map editor that allowed anyone to make a custom game type, transfer that map to anyone who wanted it, and play the game in completely new ways. Fan written campaign expansions, Cat & Mouse, Tower Defense, and so many more. I mean, hell, the reason that the entire genre of MOBA games exist is because of Frozen Throne and a dedicated team of folks making it.

Something like this just... Doesnt exist anymore. At least not in the same way. I keep thinking about why games like Warcraft & Starcraft are still to this day, 20+ years later, still so beloved. Its difficult to imagine a game that has come out in the last 10 years that will still be talked about and loved in another 10-20 years. The need for these companies to force every dollar out of you has taken away the ability for something like this to exist. And my god is that so sad.

[shadowpeachmaxxer]

WELCOME TO MY BLOG

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

I post content here that I ENJOY !! this account is mainly just here for me to post art , edits & fandom stuff .

COUGHS. anyway.

—————————————

BEFORE U INTERACT / FOLLOW

i rant on here occasionally

uhhh also i say slurs sometimes (that i can reclaim)

i freely block . usually it’s nothing against you

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IMPORTANT / MAIN INFO

my names currently are sunny / kk (these change frequently)

i use any pronouns + paw/xe

im a minor + i have autism

i am a therian and fictokin/alterhuman!!

i am a artist + aspiring poet & editor

im transmasc + nonbinary + genderfluid

i take things too seriously sometimes + im sensitive (interact w/ caution)

also im hypersexual

please use tonetags when you speak with me.

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EXTRA INFO

im mexican american + native

i speak spanish and im a satanist

i use cat & fish puns when I speak ,, if u need translations do tell me !

I use kaomojis frequently

im in many fandoms ,, so just ask what ones im in (we probably share a lot of the same fandoms !!)

as i said prior I freely block ,, so if you get blocked it’s USUALLY nothing personal

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DNI LIST

18+ (unless I interact with you)

basic dni criteria

PEOPLE WHO HATE SHIPPING

mean people who judge me for my interests

religious people who force religion

weirdos.

people who call me/my friends cringe

mean people overall.

musical haters

people who only see the negative in things (ex: “i love *fandom* “that fandom sucks.”)

people who hate artists

people who judge new artists

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PLEASE INTERACT Plslspeodksjajen

other artists !!

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people who like shipping

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other editors

homestuck fans…..

Murder drones + regretevator fans

MSPFA FANS / OR CREATORS!!!!!

anyone who enjoys horror or psychological horror

vocaloid fans

kinitopet fans

people who like space

Lego monkie kid fans

literally anyone who isn’t on my dni list.

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toodles vro

[abla-soso]

Now that I've read the full, translated Bnha chapter... I don't think I like that much anymore 😭

The segment with Hawks was great. No complaints other than I wish Hori showed him interacting with Enji onscreen and we should have only seen a glimpse of him at the very end and have his interaction with Nagat happen in the next chapter. As much as I loved seeing Hawks, this chapter should’ve been solely dedicated to the Todoroki family.

But the Todoroki family segment.. em, it's not that good. It was just meh.

I liked that it was too bittersweet to the point of being nearly depressing. It was the most believed conclusion. But there were many problems with how it was written.

The pacing was bad. The dialogue felt unnatural and forced. Like Hori was ticking out plot points that he wanted to conclude rather than characters naturally interacting.

Enji felt like a broken record repeating lines that he already said. His reactions were too muted that he felt lifeless. I'd hate it if this was the last time we'll see him.

I loved that he told Touya he'll visit him every day, and I loved Touya's reaction to this (his soft, sad gaze 😢❤️). But Touya should have had the last word between them.

Why didn't Natsu say anything to Touya?? That was weird. I'm glad he's keeping a safe distance from Enji and focusing on his own healing, but the sudden outburst at Enji was strange. Perphas learning that Touya was slowly dying trigged this outburst, but I can't be sure.

I like this interpretation, though:

You could tell that Natsu still cares about Enji as his father deapite needing to stay away from him (he's the only one who tells Enji to rest and ease his burden). I loved that. No contact does nessasrily mean lack of care. Sometimes, we need to keep our distance from people we still care about. Sometimes, our healing requires letting go.

But people's reaction to Natsu's choice was laughably bizarre. Most Western folks really act like no contact is the only valid way to heal. Honestly pathetic 🤷‍♀️

Whyyyy didn't we see Rei and Fuyumi say something to Touya?? What's the point of showing us how much they wanna talk to him and then not give it to them?? If Hori was aiming for maximum drama, he still could have had them say something and then still lament about how much more they need to say.

Please don't tell me Rei is still married to Enji 😭 If anyone needs to cut all ties with this man forever, it's her.

Why was there no clear reaction to the news of Touya slowly dying? 🙆‍♀️

I'm now OK with Touya's sudden positive change towards Shouto. It happened right after he got the validation he needed from Enji and right after we saw him accept it, so - while still rushed - it makes sense for him to change his view of Shouto now that his vision is no longer clouded by hate and resentment. Shouto's reaction was cute. He really looked the kid brother of the family.

Why is Hori refusing to show us the inner thoughts of the main cast, though?? Especially during life changing moments?? It started with Deku after losing his quirk, and now it's happening to Shouto. We should have seen his inner thoughts if this is really the final todoroki family chapter.

Though I loved how Shouto addressed Enji and Rei when he talked about being who he wants to be. It was a great final moment between parents and child.

As the finale to the Hellish Todoroki Family saga, this chapter felt rushed and underwhelming. I still enjoyed it to some extent, but it could have been so much better written.

But I don't blame Hori. It looks very obvious that he's being pressured by his editors to rush the ending =/

[seriouslycromulent]

One of the things I like most about the new Night Court

... is how it seems to be turning into a popular gig for comedic actors to do a quick and fun sitcom appearance. Which in a way, is in keeping with the spirit of the original.

So many character actors, comedians and comedy legends made their way onto the original Night Court over its 9 seasons that it's nice to see some folks are taking the new one as an opportunity to do the same.

So far, in 2 seasons, we have seen (and this is not all of them, just the folks I can remember off the top of my head):

Wendie Malick - as the unstable woman from Dan's past who is trying to destroy him

Dave Foley - as the valet to Gurgs' Duke boyfriend

Rhys Darby - as the Duke boyfriend

Jenifer Lewis - as the Anna Wintour-esque fashion magazine editor

Richard Kind - as the down-on-his-luck Broadway producer

Melissa Villaseñor - as Neil's old high school crush

Betsy Sodaro - as the churlish janitor who didn't want to help save Dan's favorite bench

Jackie Hoffman - as the mean keeper of the government bureaucratic forms who forced the court to hire her son

Faith Ford - as Abby's mom

Melissa Fumero - as the scary PTA Karen mom from the school Wyatt's daughters attend

Gary Anthony Williams - as the recurring/semi-regular employee Murray Flobert*

Jim Meskimen - as the voiceover for the Shot Clock Showdown basketball game

Stephnie Weir - as the podcast host trying to sling mud for ratings

Kurt Fuller - as the skeevy DA who tries to manipulate Abby and later get her suspended

Julia Duffy - as Abby's boyfriend's mom [added on 28-Mar]

And of course, the show is also in a wonderful position to give other actors a small onscreen role as defendants in the regular court cases that don't get much backstory or are just there to set up a joke or two. For actors just starting out or who usually play background characters, this is a nice little gem on the resume.

I'm not sure how many seasons the new show will get, but as a fan of sitcoms and lighter entertainment fare that I feel our society desperately needs right now, I'm just happy that the show can make such a positive contribution to the TV landscape again.

*Since he's a semi-regular, he probably shouldn't be included on this list, but I'm a huge fan of Gary's so I wanted to show him some love. Plus, he's a great addition to the cast.

[inventors-fair]

Partner Commentary: It Takes Two

I don't play politics, I don't play 2HG—this contest really was for the gimmick, wasn't it? Not that there's anything wrong with that but my goodness do I not know how to evaluate anything past individual cards... Or not, like, I get how cards are supposed to come together. But that's different than how we all come together here as designers to share our love of the game! Sort of. Maybe I'm trying not to let this metaphor go out of whack. Maybe I should just take my lumps.

One of those lumps is the fact that most the cards this week were really darn good. Like, I had a hard time really choosing a favorite, and there's something that I liked about each and every submission. It's a shame when there's a huge discrepancy in design strengths, and a unique gift when there's strength everywhere. Not too many entries, but I ain't gonna complain. This wasn't the easiest contest, after all.

As my partners do their own things in this office, I'm typing away here, and shall remind folks: Judge Picks are cards that have a specific feature I wanna showcase and/or they were just cool and I wanted to gush about them. Let's skip off into the sunset together and read some commentary!

@deg99 — Famed Poet & Ghost Writer (JUDGE PICK)

Poetry, my lifeblood! So there's the implicit team-versus-you issue to be handled (that's not really an issue at all I suppose) where this feels like a singleton card more than a team card at first glance, but the more that you read the more that you can actually work with these cards quite well. I think that I'd've worded the Poet's trigger to say "from graveyards" instead of "from a graveyard" because then you can both hose your opponents' cards AND help the Ghost Writer. These cards work oddly well, actually.

And as for the flavor, Lorehold and Silverquill (...those were the names, right?) do indeed come together for a neat little flavor package. I actually expected the ghost to have flying, but that's up to you, and the spirits not having flying was kind of on par for Strixhaven. These are an odd flavor couple, and I think I'd want to hear more about it—is the writer writing for the poet, or is the ghostwriting pun just a pun? What's their relationship in-universe? I would also understand if they're just buddy-buddy but you've made, again, an implicit link that's mildly frustrating to puzzle out—frustrating in a fun way though! Am I overthinking? [Editor's note: always.]

~

@horsecrash — Ruin Explorer & Ruin Hulk

I wouldn't call these these the most unique mechanical pair. It also follows that with team stuff, these cards don't necessarily help in any 2HG play. For single-player, though, this is a limited slam. The Ruin Explorer is a great build-around-me card for an archetype, and the Hulk can go into any deck without really worrying about what else you need. Big constructs are big. Or rather, not a construct, but a golem. I was wondering, and constructs/golems do indeed have different vibes. I like the vibe of Golem here, good choice.

Does every card need to have teammates in mind? I know I didn't say it was 100% necessary, but there are some benefits to it. Putting counters on creatures that aren't your own could matter, as could having other players make treasure tokens. But just to end on a strength, the Zendikar feel resonates with me strongly here and the relationship makes sense. One more thing that's cool is that the colorless golem, as I mentioned could go into any kind of deck that needs it. That's still a cool concept for the team implication, that one player can just have it in without forcing color.

~

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes — Inspired Scholar & Muse of Magic

It's cute! It's quite cute, actually, and I think there's almost a throwback to Dominaria, old-school Tolarian kids, where the humor hits for me. I did chuckle at Inspired Scholar's line—is it a bit sitcomesque? Well, yeah, but it's still funny. And the reply on the Muse's card is heartwarming! The relationship between the pair of them on the cards comes across as well, so you've nailed that aspect.

Mechanically, I'm stumbling on the fact that, without the other, these are basically dead cards. Like, literally vanilla. It's a flavorful win that they need each other. We have to keep the mechanics in mind as well. So, how would we go about fixing this? Not too hard—just have a mechanic that's kinda-decent but gets better if you have a card of a certain type. What if the wizard reduced the costs a little, but by 2 instead of 1 if you control a Spirit? Something like that. BTW, for the muse, red's ward costs have been pretty centered in life instead of mana, but I don't know if that's a standard. Might wanna check up on that because I don't have an answer.

~

@jestingmaniac — Reckless Roustabout & Dogged Detective

[Sorry about the lack of @/tagging, Tumblr is acting up!]

Perhaps typing your art direction into your submission when you send it in can make things a little more legible? Also, uh, did the flavor texts get reversed? There's a lot happening here, and it's not the least of your worries that Dogged Detective is already a card name. Let's slow down, ease up, and be more methodical and less Roustabouty. I really do like this relationship you've built between cards! Genuinely love it. These two have that cat-and-mouse feeling you wrote about and I can see that playing out great on the battlefield as well.

For the Reckless Roustabout: Haste and the can't-block line should be separate lines. I actually didn't see the haste part of it, and thought it would give itself haste. Regardless—for multiplayer shenanigans, perhaps it could just give up to one target creature haste, to help out a friend in need. For the Dogged Detective: aside from a name change, this card's pretty awesome. If you wanted to up the team side, the ability could be: "When ~ enters the battlefield, target player may return up to one creature they control to its owner's hand." Win-win all around. Again, lots of awesome ideas, friendly flavor, but we gotta work on presentation as well. I want to read all the stuff you're sending in!

~

@just--a--penguin — Disrupting Geist & Demanding Fiend

This is an odd little grouping, isn't it. Double flying creatures is pretty crazy, but not the strangest thing in the world. I particularly enjoy the parts where you have opposing goals for different deck types, or at least you can slow-roll one and aggro the other. Kind of. I don't know for sure; these do feel like they want to be part of the same deck, less team-based and more eat-your-face-off in a single UB flash deck. If both teammates are playing flash decks, that's even worse, but I'm not opposed.

Not sure how the AD is supposed to be depicted here, TBH? Maybe from different angles, but these both feel Innistradian quite comfortably by themselves. I wonder what the true relationship is between spirits and demons on the plane. There's some kind of partnership being forged, yeah, and I don't know if I'm necessarily sold. Again, each card works great individually and both feel like they can inhabit the same space. The sense of togetherness isn't quite hitting me.

~

@misterstingyjack — Bonded Lifeweaver & Fanged Lifegorger

Make the lifelinkers even lifelinkier, and make the vampires even more vampyrical! I am hesitant to point out: there are no vampires on Ikoria. I checked, and as best I can tell, yeah, no, not a single one. Nightmares might have been the better option to go for. All the same, yeah, the cards are still good together. If the Lifeweaver had had an "up to one" clause without "you control," might've been better for the team side of things, but that's about all the mechanical and flavorful quibbles I have. They're big gameplay quibbles; that'll only come out on the battlefield, though.

Paying the life for the card advantage can get absolutely bonkers but the restriction is fine. How much life does one person need to gain before it becomes negligible? I'd play that card in my Kambal deck for sure, and following that, in a limited format where you can perhaps buff it with cards like the Lifeweaver, well, then you're all set to jam. Very powerful all around, and I like that you pushed the power level there! Some of these cards feel like folks were holding back, but I might be used to FIRE design...

~

@sombramainexe — Tenth District Insurgent & Tenth District Assassin

So strange how two different upbringings can result in two different mindsets, with the same kind of goal on the same street. These cards have quite a dichotomy between them, and the deckbuilding reflects that in sensible ways. Small attackers meets a lose-lose situation and all. I think that either one of them going down can be still strong for your team. If you wanna go for team-based stuff, you can replace "you control" with a similar clause that's "during your turn" and it'll be the same result.

I'm a little curious about the assassin, actually. What's up with the vivacity of the flavor text? They both feel rebellious, but the assassin feels like they need a little bit more, like, survival instinct. What ever happened to the covert side of it? The Massacre Girl may be more inspirational than we could've hoped for... What I mean is that it feels a bit off-flavor, personally, to have an assassin use a rebel's line. The Insurgent feels on-point, so that's all good, and I get how the flavor's trope reflects the mechanical aspect. Feels like it could've been a bit skewed towards the subtleties of contract killing, that's all. 

~

@sparkyyoungupstart — Displaced Orchid & Nyxborn Pollinator (JUDGE PICK)

I'm so sorry to start with this, but both the "it's" in your orchid's flavor text should've been "its." Anyway, this kind of relationship is fascinating and I'm actually kind of floored that you brought back this analog—yes, I'm familiar—in a manner that works so perfectly. Mechanics critique: I don't think you needed the Inspired action on the Pollinator, but I like what the card is doing. (And I know it's an uncommon, lol, small tweak.) The Orchid is fine, too, perhaps a little single-player coded, but whatever, you gotta have your own garden. The Pollinator could make plants for you and each person on your team if need be.

Still, the Pollinator has to sow in order for the orchid to reap. That's perfect! If the pollinator dies, the Orchid only has itself to work with, until the plants die out. That's perfectly anguish-inducing! But that's just their relationship, isn't it... And the fact that the Nyxborn of Theros have the connection to the underworld, or at least they can be and they come across as such here, is a joyful throwback that shows an acute knowledge of how to connect MTG worlds and real-world ideas in an thoughtful and impactful manner. I'm truly impressed. What I wonder is for the worldbuilding, if the Orchid could've perhaps been a Dryad instead? Or a Caryatid, because Caryatids are the only plant-types on Theros that I can find. "She sings ardently in the grove, but her petals fall in silence." I dunno. Something schmaltzy. 

~

@tavi-en-astra — Sweetheartist & Maestros Heart Thief

This is a card that I'm really not sure works in the rules. Honestly, it's also far too narrow unless the whole set is based around soulbond, and I'm not convinced that that's reasonable. The amount of text on these cards is already pushing it with partner there. Conceptually, there's a lot to like about the relationship you've build. What I feel happened, and correct me if I'm wrong, is that the strength of the relationship turned into a story where every part felt like it had to be captured, and following that the cards ended up with the amount of text that they do to get those niche details.

Sweetheartist is honestly fine, if narrow. Most of the baggage falls to the Heart Thief. Put simply, soulbond doesn't allow you to pair with your opponents' creatures, and even if it did, soulbond reflects shared abilities; there's no mechanical resonance with how soulbond is supposed to work and what it's doing on the Heart Thief. If you want to make creatures attack, that's all fine and good. Firkraag is actually a card you could look at! If creatures had to attack, there's a bonus to be had, and that's basically what the Sweetheartist wants. So, there's a lot happening here... I think the killers' connection is nice, the multicolor cards are daring, and the flavor text is well-written. Narrowing your focus allows for the mechanics to do what they're supposed to do.

~

@wildcardgamez — Prodigy Gemcrafter & Filigree Firefox (JUDGE PICK)

Where does this pair live? I'm going to assume Kaladesh, because I wanna. Kamigawa was my first thought because of Reconfigure but I'm flexible. Either way, I love the manner in which these cards feels like they belong to and with each other, and the joy of crafting that comes with one and the other. Treasures abound, which is nice, and continuing to give double strike is going to be wonderful if you can get the pinging off the Fox. Now, I had to reread Simian Sling, but that "it" in the text box is so frustrating to me, and I know how it's supposed to work and I hate how it's just barely getting there in my brain.

Hardly matters, though, because the rules say what they say and what can I do about it. Uniquely, this is the only monocolor pairing that we have! I think that in a team game, the ability to fetch something up for yourself will be useful, and if you're playing casual/EDH/whatever by yourself, you'll be fine, so that's all set. What would it be like if two players on a team each had a single color? That would be quiet interesting indeed, not impossible, but certainly hard to pull off. Splashing is fun, too. Who knows? Either way, the whole shebang feels neat enough to point out as being, well, neat enough.

That's all! Tune in tomorrow for cards, cards, and more cards. @abelzumi

[atomiqueen]

this is an INDEPENDENT, SELECTIVE, and PRIVATE rp blog for LUCY MACLEAN of amazon prime's FALLOUT tv show. written by bean. mainly show & headcanon based, as i slowly familiarize myself with the lore. oc & dupe friendly! NOT SPOILER FREE.

A STUDY IN: being neutral good in a chaotic neutral world; a variety of tv tropes (the pollyanna, action girl, martial pacifist, the golden rule, took a level in badass, the conscience, break the cutie)

✑ CARRD » ABOUT » HEADCANONS » MEMES

beta editor + xkit rewritten only! rules under the cut; everything else on carrd.

wandering the wasteland with: @radiaking

blogroll: @atomiqueen. @heartsdefine. @thiefscant.

✒ RULES & GUIDELINES;

GENERAL: SELECTIVE AND PRIVATE. this means i’m particular about who i follow and i will only write with mutuals. my blog is semi-iconless (depending on the muse/if i feel like making icons or not). NOT SPOILER FREE. NO GODMODDING, metagaming, etc. EXCLUSIVITY IS RARE but not unheard of so you can find my mains/exclusives list here

WRITING: I USE PRIMARILY THIRD PERSON PAST OR PRESENT TENSE. i'm not entirely comfortable roleplaying in first or second person (yet). when it comes to verb tense, i'll often check to see what my partner is most comfortable using and go with that. i can do one-liners or multipara threads, but longer things will likely take a bit more time.

SHIPPING: I SHIP CHEMISTRY, and i do not force ships because i’m not a monster. i definitely enjoy a good romance, but platonic and queerplatonic dynamics, rivalries, etc. are just as interesting to explore!

FOLLOWING/UNFOLLOWING: IF I FOLLOW YOU, IT MEANS I LIKE WHAT YOU HAVE GOIN' ON AND WOULD LOVE TO INTERACT. it doesn't have to happen immediately, just down the line! i'll give most folks at least a week to follow back (thus indicating mutual interest in writing together at some point) before unfollowing. but if i really enjoy your blog/portrayal, i may stick around as a passive follower so long as i am welcome!

BLOCKING: I PREFER TO BE HARDBLOCKED IF YOU NO LONGER WISH FOR ME TO FOLLOW YOU for any reason. this is so i don't assume tumblr unfollowed you for me and refollow, inadvertently crossing your boundaries. if i suspect someone has softblocked me, i will likely hardblock them myself to avoid refollowing in the future. (i am generally quite liberal with the block button, as i'm serious about curating my online space.)

PLEASE DO: BREAK YOUR REPLIES FOR ME UP INTO SMALLER PARAGRAPHS if we write together, as my adhd makes hugelong paragraphs difficult to read; ASK ME TO TAG YOUR TRIGGERS if i’ve neglected to do so (whether i’m following you back or not); like my starter calls, SEND ME MEMES, turn my meme replies into threads (if we are mutuals); SHOWER ME IN PLOT IDEAS and ooc chatter; HAVE PATIENCE with me on all of the above; FEEL FREE TO UNFOLLOW ME at any time for any reason, as i will be reserving the right to do so myself 

PLEASE DO NOT: USE SUBSMALL TEXT or multiple spaces between words in our threads as i find both difficult to read; UNFOLLOW/REFOLLOW to get my attention (it won’t be the kind of attention you’re hoping for); EXPECT ANY KIND OF IMMEDIACY FROM ME IC OR OOC. i love making friends via roleplay, but i’m one smol nerd just trying to have a good time and i won’t stress myself out by trying to keep up with everything at once. just know it’s not personal, and i’ll get back to you as soon as i have the energy.

I WILL GLADLY: TAG NSFW AND TRIGGERS appropriately and accommodate those who ask to the best of my abilities; WELCOME LGBTQIA+ HEADCANONS; USE MY SHITPOST TAG (#blacklist for less soft nonsense.) on most of my inane ooc content so feel free to block it, that’s why it’s there

I WILL TRY: TO REMEMBER IF YOU DON’T LIKE TO BE REBLOGGED FROM, but please note that I have ADHD and may forget. Often and repeatedly. (A bit more info about this can be found here.) If being reblogged from on the reblogging website really bothers you, please feel free to soft/block me as needed. Relatedly, I don’t really care if you reblog things from me that aren’t in-character roleplay posts and/or headcanons. I do think it’s polite to reblog a meme from the source if you don’t send one in, but I don’t personally consider it a blockable offense.

I WILL NOT: FOLLOW BLOGS THAT DON’T HAVE ANY RULES OR GUIDELINES set up; exceptions to this are reserved for muns i already know aka those whose boundaries i’m already familiar with; FOLLOW VERY MANY BLOGS THAT INCLUDE CHARACTERS from game of thrones and/or house of the dragon, as i’m just not comfortable having a lot of ASOIAF content on my dash; exceptions to this are typically reserved for people i already know and/or multimuse blogs that include other fandoms/muses i’m interested in 

MUNDANE: MY NAME IS BEAN/BEE. they/she. nonbinary lesbian. i’m 32, neurodivergent, and a full-time grad student with two jobs. I’M WHITE. in the event that i fuck up and/or swerve out of my lane, i invite my friends and followers of color (or fellow white folks who are wiser than me) to let me know. i can and will do better.

CREDITS: banner, promo, psd

[whitehotharlots]

It just wears you down

“I had fantasies of unloading a revolver into the head of any white person that got in my way, burying their body and wiping my bloody hands as I walked away relatively guiltless with a bounce in my step, like I did the world a favor.” -Dr. Aruna Khilanani, speaking in front of the Yale School of Medicine

"All things that begin in white folks are not infinite and eternal," Cooper said, "They ain’t gonna go on for infinity and infinity. And that's super important to remember." [ . . . ]  The thing I want to say to you is we got to take these motherfuckers out.

- Rutgers professor Brittany Cooper, speaking with The Root

Who or what should we blame? Twitter is an obvious and convenient culprit, as limiting expression to 140/280 characters lends credence to the delusion that every statement should be taken literally, that subtext and context are lies created to obscure the true, hidden, evil meanings of statements that would otherwise be understood in some other manner. Upon such a platform, demonization is all but inevitable. 

And then there’s the internet itself, the perpetual churn of content having replaced narrative and rendered the act of sustained reading something between atavistic and ableist. How many times, in any given day, do you encounter extreme outrage based solely upon a headline that is not born out by the actual content of an article? If outrage clicks are worth the same as genuine engagement, editors and publishers care only generating buzz--it doesn’t matter if anyone actually understands anything that is being said. 

But here I am falling into a lazy trap: blaming the platforms, denying the consciousness and agency of the purveyors. At a certain point, we need to admit that this is contemporary liberalism. This is a choice those of us on the broad left have made. We have incentivized this. We reward it. While we may make some subtle gestures towards distancing ourselves in extreme circumstances, this is, ultimately, what we chose to be the face of our beliefs, the leaders of our movement. 

This is eliminationism. I’m sorry, I know that sounds Alex Jones-ish, but there’s no other word for it.  I have known these people in real life. I have spoken to them outside of public forums. They are not joking. They are not exaggerating. They want to eliminate a large segment of the population.Those who insist this is a metaphor or a mere affect-generating exaggeration are full of shit.

Or... hmm... are they just full of shit? Most people aren’t that cynical, right? 

This type of discourse is tolerated/celebrated by today’s left because lefties still don’t fully regard non-white people as people. They don’t hate PoC, at least not outright, but they also don’t think they should be taken seriously.

Because if you do take a person seriously--if you regard them as a fully formed human being endowed with agency, rather than as an avatar for your political fantasies--you’re not going to nod and laugh and cheer when they tell you, to your face, that they fantasize about killing you.

An under-remarked facet of today’s elminationist rhetoric is that it’s not coming from a beleaguered majority attempting to wrest power from a brutal colonizing force. Yes, structural racism exists in the twenty-first century United States. And, yes, it is a major problem that deserves efforts toward remediation. But there’s no comparison of today’s USA to, say, Haiti in the late 1700′s, or even South Africa in the twentieth century. Making such a comparison is as contemptible and illiterate as the Canadian Truckers who said vaccine mandates were Nazism, or a public high school student who thinks being forced to attend gym class is equivalent to being jailed in a supermax prison.

But such comparisons are not denounced. Oh no. They are mandated. If you were to publish the paragraph immediately preceding this one under your own name, you would be subject to public censure, denied speaking engagements and publications, and perhaps at risk of losing your job. It’s very objectively true, and that’s why it’s so unspeakable. The most punishable speech is that which convincingly contradicts prevailing narratives.

Deep down, most left-identitarians know this. That’s why they tolerate open and barely equivocal calls for their own death: things aren’t that bad here in the ol’ U S of A, so surely we won’t face any major blowups--it’s fine to pour more gas on the fire, especially if it keeps Drumpf out of office. But this misunderstands both the nature of anger and the humanity of non-white people. If a person says something, you should not default to assuming that they actually don’t mean what just came out of their mouth. If a man shoots his wife because he thinks she cheated on him, she’s still dead regardless of whether or not she actually cheated. 

And here we come to the fundamental neurosis of today’s anti-racism: the belief that everyone is dishonest and that statements have no meaning, literal or otherwise. Look at one of those struggle session Zoom meetings that got posted during Covid. You’ve probably seen footage of at least one of them--if you work in a white collar setting, especially academe, there’s a good chance you’ve participated in a similar ritual: Every white person is expected to announce their racism as if it were an AA meeting. Those that do are accepted. The few that don't are branded as the Real Racists.

That's very, very weird. 

Like, if you say "My name is Mark and I'm a racist," that makes you not a racist. But if you say "I'm not going to admit to beliefs I don't actually possess," that means you must actually possess those beliefs. The only way to avoid censure is to performatively admit to the transgression that warrants censure.

This is distilled cynicism of the most malignant sort. Humans are by nature capable of conceptual distinction. We realize that if X is defined in opposition to Y, admitting to X does not actually mean you’ve admitted to Y. If we were incapable of grasping this realization, there would be no language. There would be no society. There would be no humanity. 

What I’m getting at is, the white people cajoled into making their struggle statements don’t actually believe what they’re saying. Most are probably operating under duress, just hoping to get this shit over with. The true believers view it as a purification ritual, absolving themselves of sin by admitting to sin. And the handful who are naive enough to assert dignity are shunted out of the workforce, made to go live under a bridge where they belong. 

And... jesus. This has been a theme of my recents posts, which have become more infrequent because all of this just seems so hopeless. There’s a simple question that’s sitting in front of everyone’s face but no one seems to have enough guts or decency to ask it: do we really want to normalize dishonesty? To this degree? Why is lying such a fundamental part of everyone’s worldview? Do we think this is going to end well?

Even if you can rationalize it, even if you honestly think this is just social progress and creating a society of violent, paranoid tattletales is the only route to equity, are you not capable of grasping the consequences of your demands? They’re not hidden. They’re in plain sight, as far away from your physical being as your phone is from your face. We’re calling for destruction. We are calling for mass violence. This isn’t a silly thought exercise. This is the real world, and this will end in horror. 

[chainsawcorazon]

No. We "struggle with accepting clark is destined to be a failure of a father" for the simple reason that SUPERMAN OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD NOT BE A BAD FATHER. To say that he would be a bad dad because he has responsibilities as a superhero is utter bullcrap and frankly offensive to any working parent.

i am going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you're just high on emotions, but cousin - listen to me. my observation is in no way a jab at what superman is SUPPOSED to stand for, but of what's actually happening in canon as a result of narrative choices that are not always in the best interest of the original concept and the running canon. also, get a grip. superman hasn't been a working class representative in decades. in this season of dc, he and the wifey literally have a penthouse, and he's gotta corporation and she's got the editor job. they don't need to put their grown son to work to make ends meet like, ding ding ding, working class parents who often need their kids to contribute so they can make ends meet. they can actually afford to house and feed three children in this era, but like the americana of today, they are makin money and savin lives and writing truths, but just BARELY raising them daggon kids.

i know you're in love with the concept of superman, but unfortunately, nearly a hundred years of canon has its issues. it's ok not to like what i said, but im not taking it back. clois destined to be shitty parents until we can get them BACK to being representatives of working class america who are dedicated to truth, justice, and a better tomorrow. they CAN'T be that right now, because they've got issues i've already listed, and the very real character traits of being insecure folks bc of their myriad of reasons. i hope one day they can be better people, but right now i will take joy in knowing they're failed parents because editorial will not let them BE parents bc they think it gets in the way of them being lois and clark. maybe in another ten years when ppl are not afraid to give lois and clark gray hair and stick to it. for now, they are lois and clark who failed jon, are likely gonna fail the twins, and failed chris by sheer force of editorial menace.

[puppuptrixii]

Hi folks! It's me, Pups, CEO of not being normal about Bunny Bubble.

I have a new theory for the world to question my sanity with.

First, here is a recap of episode 2 and 3 for people who may have not seen them or have and need a refresh.

Here is my episode 1 recap and theory here.

Episode 2:

Bunny Bubble reads the first note that just says "alone."

Bubble adds bunny ears to builds to make friends.

The duck Bubble built went missing, and another player, Staraptor, was framed for it.

Other objects went missing with similar signs pointing to the same culprit.

Bunny Bubble, AND I QUOTE, "took away his breathing privileges" by taking his base to the sky via duck.

She finds out later on that two different players, Zsm and Ratrick, were behind it.

A group of players, including Bubble, who had their stuff stolen by them, decided to make the scary tower they live in be promoting the Barbie movie (aka making it pink and girly).

They scattered the parts of the original tower around the map.

The two found out about the prank and weren't so pleased.

Bunny Bubble was blamed for the doorbell being broken and was then locked in the room with the doorbell being forced to fix it.

She had what I could describe as either a panic attack or meltdown from being shouted at and endlessly hit.

She eventually got killed and ended up back home where a new not greeted her, "Come and find me."

Episode 3:

Bubble takes over as narrator while the actual narrator gets a pizza.

Bunny Bubble gets started on a chessboard, which will cover the spawn of the server.

We get introduced to IRL Bubble, who gets a real chessboard as research. In the long run, this research didn't matter that much.

She assigned each member of the server a type of chess piece.

She made the first few and was going okay with the project.

The narrator came back with a pizza that was cold because they're a disembodied voice even though we heard their footsteps earlier.

Bubble found herself in a few problems like the lack of terracotta and brown dye on the server.

She figured out an easy way of getting terracotta and a very hard way of brown dye.

She had to get brown dye from wandering traders, which took a very long time because they only had a small chance of having it.

She finally found one, which then died because of a flood prank caused by Delilah.

Bubble was told that the flood wouldn't last that long, but the flood lasted for about 2 months.

Bubble decided to go on a revenge arc and remove the water herself.

So that's where we got to so far. But one question remains...

WHO IS THE NARATOR?

Here are my ideas from least to most insane.

A version of Bubble, possibly based on another Wonderland character like the Cheshire Cat. This is the most likely since Cheshire Cat can go invisible and the purple colour scheme.

Benjamin, since we haven't met him officially in the story at the time of writing this, and we don't know his voice yet.

Editor Bubble, since she does compile the story together, and we've only seen them twice so far technically.

Bunny Bubble from the future, and it's her looking back on it all.

THE ORIGIN THAT WASN'T VOTED ON THE ORIGINAL ANNOUNCEMENT, THE PLANT GOLEM BUBBLE.

Some of them could not be true, and some could, but I have a hunch that the narrator is not telling us something.

Or am I just going insane? Who knows!

[burnwater13]

Grogu has taken some time out of his busy schedule to talk about Ahsoka! Enjoy.

Grogu was very excited to watch the new show about Ahsoka Tano. He hoped it stayed true to the adventures she had during their time in that other galaxy. If not, he’d owe her an apology. Yup, he was the one who was on the set that day and telling Dave some of her stories when he said something along the lines of ‘Wait a minute! Let me write that down.’ 

It wasn’t easy making a show and getting everything just right. First there were a thousand details. Any one of which could trip you up and be a problem later on. Then there was casting the roles and making sure you didn’t accidentally cast a Sith to play a role for a Jedi and vice versa. 

Grogu’s recommendation was don’t cast any Force users at all. Sure he and Pedro were the exceptions to that rule, but honestly, it made it much easier on the production staff and crew if things on set weren’t disrupted by the sudden appearance of a Force ghost for Master Yoda demanding that people return to that other galaxy because there was other work to be done. That just messed with the schedule so much and production teams had enough of that sort of thing to deal with already.

Finally you needed all the technology, the skilled crafts, the actors, the grips, the sound folks, well everyone in the cast and crew to hit their marks, say their lines, work their magic, etc. only to discover that a cat had some how wondered through the scene and the director had to decide if they were going to build it into the plot, take it out in post or just re-shoot everything. Grogu had apologized for that by the way. He was pretty sure the Loth cat was secure in his trailer, but then his dad had stopped by for a visit and things just got out of hand. 

And even if everything worked perfectly the day you were shooting… filming… recording? Whatever. That day at work. You could still end up having issues. The data file could be corrupted. Or one of the extras sneezed and no one noticed until the editors were doing a final cut. Or the editors didn’t agree with the director on which take to use. Or the audio track was overwhelmed by the practical effects and now everyone needed to do some time in the booth.  Lots of things could go wrong.

But Grogu had a good feeling about this. Sure, he hadn’t known that Ahsoka had once been Sabine’s mentor in the Jedi arts (master seemed very anachronistic to him). But then in that other galaxy you really didn’t blab about stuff like that. It could get you into a lot of needless trouble. You only wanted to find yourself in the trouble you went looking for because that’s what Jedi-lorians were called to do. 

He just hoped that the fans liked it and were good to the whole cast and crew who spent so much time and effort on it. They had families and friends and other people depending on them either for entertainment or, you know, financial security. Getting such a complex endeavor completed and have it be successful was key to having more opportunities to do the same thing. 

He wondered if the folks who put together Diggle and Daggle, the Fish that fish had the same struggles? They probably did. Production schedules, insurance, organizing craft services, location scouting, keeping the writers happy. Wow, that was right! Diggle had talked about the writing for the series during an interview Grogu had listened to during a very boring lesson on boot print identification that the Mandalorian had given him while he was Din’s apprentice. Diggle said it was really simple. No writers, no show. They were the Fish that fish, not the Fish who wrote scripts, did research, tested lines and studied beats that worked and didn’t work from past episodes. Keep your writers happy people!

Any way, just like the other shows, that was as much Grogu could say about it. No spoilers. No theories. No gotchas. Just a lot of appreciation for the process and the people who bring it all together. He hoped it made everyone happy, one way or the other. And if it didn’t… well, that was okay too. Not everything he ever wanted to see on the screen made it there. Like that scene where Pedro takes off Din’s helmet and gives it to… Oops! No spoilers! This is the Way!

[canchewread]

Editor’s note: The War on Sharing is an informal journal about my life as an anti-capitalist dissident in a burgeoning Pig Empire police state, during a time of normalized fascist reaction. Given the deeply personal nature of this writing, please consider citations to be arbitrary, profanity to be praxis, and slang to be artisanal.

TWoS: Hell Comes to Frogtown

To tell you the truth, I was settling in for a spot of breakfast when I heard that the fascists had announced their intention to genocide me. 

Oh, to be clear, I wasn’t exactly surprised by the news. I’ve been writing about, and warning about the rise of American fascism for more than seven years now, and if a society spends long enough dancing with the devil, eventually it gets burned. Furthermore, it had certainly not escaped my attention that fascists were organizing around repressing trans people and LBGTQ folks who work in public life; although, given the minuscule size of the trans minority in Amerikkka, I have been a little surprised at how effective that organizing has been.

As it turns out however, there is a rather significant difference between logically processing that eventually nazis are going to come and kill you, and watching them successfully generate a movement to start conducting pogroms. I discovered this difference in full force on the morning of October 20th when I learned that The Federalist had published a pile of fascist screeching that appropriated Nazi eliminationist language to discuss “the transgender question.” Purely for the purposes of demonstrating that I’m being quite literal here, I’ll quote the relevant paragraph:

“On the transgender question, conservatives will have to repudiate utterly the cowardly position of people like David French, in whose malformed worldview Drag Queen Story Hour at a taxpayer-funded library is a “blessing of liberty.” Conservatives need to get comfortable saying in reply to people like French that Drag Queen Story Hour should be outlawed; that parents who take their kids to drag shows should be arrested and charged with child abuse; that doctors who perform so-called “gender-affirming” interventions should be thrown in prison and have their medical licenses revoked; and that teachers who expose their students to sexually explicit material should not just be fired but be criminally prosecuted.”

There is of course a little subtext here, you have to realize that what the author means by sexually explicit material is simply discussing queer identities, or living them openly; a position confirmed by the GOP’s current attempts to pass a national persecution law against LGBTQ people that makes Ron DeSantis’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill in Florida look like a Sunday picnic. 

There is however not much subtext involved in echoing Nazi propaganda about “the Jewish question” when discussing driving LGBTQ people, especially trans women, out of public life and likely worse. After all what “is the transgender question” so mysteriously being referred to here? Why of course the question is “what is to be done about trans people” and simply asking it implies “leave them alone to live their lives in peace” isn’t on the table.

Naturally, and even despite this clear evocation of the reactionary language of genocide, there will still be some, invariably comfortable people reading this who are certain that I’m overreacting. They will note that street nazis have been talking about murdering trans folks for a very long time, and a pogrom has not occurred yet. They will state that the right’s current attempts to conflate being trans or even just gay with pedophilia, is somehow unrelated to their broader social organization against “the pedophile elites” ruining our society. This is all hogwash, and the type of thing you can only say when you’re not on the firing lines, and powerful nazis largely immune to prosecution are not organizing to exterminate you.

I will however entertain this idea long enough to simply point out that the author of this piece is not some random Proud Boy or Youtuber; John Daniel Davidson is the Politics Editor at The Federalist. The Federalist in turn, is a mainstream far right publication co-founded by disgraced former-Washington Post opinion blogger Ben Domenech. Ben is literally married to Meghan McCain; the "center-right” media personality and surviving daughter of one of the most powerful Senators in U.S. history. The Federalist is certainly fascist trash, but it is by no means fringe - and simply watching how the Republican Party is currently weaponizing attacks on trans people, there’s no reasonable way you can tell me that Davidson’s positions aren’t overwhelming supported in the broader American right these days.

Look folks, when mainstream right wing influencers and politicians are arguing that simply living or talking about LGBTQ lifestyles is child abuse because it sexualizes children, and fascist street gangs are shouting “kill your local pedophile” at rallies, it doesn’t take a genius to see where this all ends; it’s a program in progress, and I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck.

And what pray tell is the liberal establishment, or even the so-called independent left media doing right now? More or less either screaming about a war in Eastern Europe or shouting “it’s the economy stupid” back and forth at each other like anyone else is even listening. Is it all right to laugh at your own funeral? I ask because I’m pretty much running out of other options here myself; presumably I’m supposed to just hide in my house and wait for the nazis to come get me while y’all sort this “political” situation out? 

Buckle up buttercup; the cavalry is not coming and the ride doesn’t get smoother from here.

nina illingworth

Anarcho-syndicalist writer, critic and analyst.

You can find my work at ninaillingworth.com, Can’t You Read, Media Madness and my Patreon Blog

Updates available on Twitter, Instagram, Mastodon and Facebook.

Podcast at “Kropotkin’s Barbershop” on Soundcloud.

Inquiries and requests to speak to the manager @ASNinaWrites

Chat with fellow readers online at Anarcho Nina Writes on Discord!

“It’s ok Willie; swing heil, swing heil…”

[mediaevalmusereads]

Infamous. By Lex Croucher. St. Martin's, 2023.

Rating: 3.5/5 stars

Genre: historical romance, lgbtqia+

Series: N/A

Summary: 22-year-old aspiring writer Edith 'Eddie' Miller and her best friend Rose have always done everything together-climbing trees, throwing grapes at boys, sneaking bottles of wine, practicing kissing . . .

But following their debutante ball Rose is suddenly talking about marriage, and Eddie is horrified.

When Eddie meets charming, renowned poet Nash Nicholson, he invites her to his crumbling Gothic estate in the countryside. The entourage of eccentric artists indulging in pure hedonism is exactly what Eddie needs in order to forget Rose and finish her novel.

But Eddie might discover the world of famous literary icons isn't all poems and pleasure . . .

***Full review below.***

CONTENT WARNINGS: drug use, nonconsentual kissing

OVERVIEW: I'm not quite sure how to rate this book. There's a lot about it that I liked: the development of the protagonist, the antagonist, etc. But I'm not sure if I liked it as a romance, per se. If you go in expecting a queer historical romance, I think you'll be somewhat disappointed, but if you go in expecting a story about a would-be writer who gets caught in a love triangle and must choose between real connection and professional ambition, then there's so much to like about this. I'm thus awarding it 3.5 stars because I'm not entirely sure it fits the category it's marketed as, but I did enjoy a lot of what it had to offer.

WRITING: The prose in this book feels somewhat impersonal for the first half, almost like a storybook or middle grade reader. I don't necessarily think this is bad since a lot of the plot in that section is about growing up and the transition to adulthood. To be clear: the writing itself doesn't feel young. It's just the tone. Otherwise, I think it is balanced and flows well.

The pace overall feels very deliberate. Croucher never seems to be in a hurry, so everything progresses at precisely the same speed, which may or may not frustrate some readers. Personally, I found it suited for some aspects of the plot, though some parts felt fairly slow.

All that being said, I don't think there's anything wrong with the prose. It's all going to come down to what you like, and for me, the prose was largely acceptable.

PLOT: The plot of this book follows Edith "Eddie" Miller, a 22 year old aspiring writer who must navigate the realities of her best friend, Rose Li, becoming in engaged. To make things more complicated, Eddie catches the eye of infamous poet Nash Nicholson, who invites Eddie to his salons and promises to contact his editor on his behalf. Throughout the book, Eddie must balance her feelings of being left behind by Rose with her budding relationship with a famous figure who may not be as benevolent as he seems.

This book doesn't feel focused enough on the main relationship for it to be a true romance, but it does feel like an interesting exploration of character that has romance in it (if that makes sense). I liked how Eddie had to grapple with not only feeling abandoned by Rose, but with her own expectations when it came to society and fame. Eddie hates "polite society" and the rituals that determine decorum, but when she is invited to Nash's reclusive home for a writing retreat, she learns that maybe having social relationships is a good thing. It was an interesting way to explore the balance between personal relationships and ambition.

That being said, I think the book really hit its stride when Eddie and Nash become closer at the house. For the first couple hundred pages, Eddie almost comes across as childish because she resents Rose for getting engaged and refuses to play nice with other society folks. But at Nash's house, things become real and complicated, forcing Eddie to grow up in a way that is both dramatic and high-stakes. It's an abrupt shift of tone, which I didn't dislike.

My main complaint, then, isn't so much that this book isn't a romance but that it doesn't put quite enough work into the romance it has. While I don't think this book needed to follow the formula of a typical romance, I did feel like Eddie and Rose's relationship received less attention than Eddie and Nash's relationship. Most of Eddie and Rose's interactions involve conflict and being pulled apart, which is fine except for when I'm asked to become invested in their life as a couple. I felt there could have been more positive emotional development between them to really show why they loved each other, not just references to their shared past.

CHARACTERS: Eddie, our protagonist, feels something like a cross between Eloise Bridgerton and Jo March. She desperately wants to be a published writer and abhors the song and dance she must perform to be accepted into polite society. I actually think she has good character development; at the beginning, Eddie refuses to accept marriage as a necessity for some people and throws herself headfirst into her career without much thought. By the end, she comes to see how personal relationships matter more than her career and her art, and she finally sees how Nash and his ilk have been using her.

Rose is admirable in that she always tries to see the best in people. I loved the relationship between Rose and her fiance - it felt like a queer alliance - and I adored the way Rose encouraged Eddie in contrast to Nash putting her down.

Nash, the poet, was unexpectedly compelling as a friend-turned-antagonist. He felt very much like a Lord Byron or Percy Shelley, and his insufferable attitude was on par for what I understand about a few Romantic poets.

I also very much liked that there were queer and people of color in multiple supporting roles. Not only is Rose east Asian and wlw, but within Nash's circle, there are a number of characters who aren't straight, white, or cis. It made the world feel more interesting and characters felt more varied.

TL;DR: Infamous is a compelling story when read as a character study and less so when read as a queer historical romance. The development of the protagonist is quite good, as is the conflict between personal relationships and ambition. While I wish the queer romance was more developed, I was admittedly enthralled by the disastrous relationship between Eddie and Nash, and I liked the lesson learned in the end.

[kudosmyhero]

The Amazing Spider-Man (vol. 3) #10: Spider-Verse, part 2: Superior Force

Read Date: May 22, 2023 Cover Date: January 2015 ● Writer: Dan Slott ● Penciler: Olivier Coipel ● Inker: Wade von Grawbadger ● Colorist: Justin Ponsor ● Letterer: Chris Eliopoulos ● Editor: Nick Lowe ◦ Ellie Pyle ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● teams of Spider-folk gathering to take on their hunters ● Superior Spider-Man’s dark/mirrored lenses are pretty cool. I’ll start digging into Superior Spider-Man soon ● let’s see if they can defeat this dude ● finally, a hit he felt!

● I do love the Inheritors’ sense of fashion ● so the Inheritors can clone themselves ● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: As Miles Morales and Ultimate Jessica Drew struggle to hold off Verna's Hounds, she laments that the hunt is over before it began. Superior Spider-Man, Assassin Spider-Man, and Spider-Punk emerge from a portal and immediately kill the Hounds. When Miles tells the confused Jessica that the Superior Spider-Man is the one he met a while back, Spider-Punk snaps at them to shut up and change into their costumes. While Verna mourns the deaths of her pets, Miles looks at the shattered gravestone of his mother and says she made things personal between them, with Verna furiously responding that she will feast on his bones.

On Earth-13, Peter Parker (Earth-616) asks why he's so special, and is informed that it's because he's the only one who's faced an Inheritor and won. Spider-UK gets a reading on the second team and Old Man Spider proposes they go recruit them. While Old Man Spider explains to Spider-Woman (Earth-616) that they found a second army of Spider-Totems, Cindy Moon muses over whether she feels the same intimate attraction to any of the other Spiders since so many of them are alternate versions of Peter, but the only other one she is attracted to is Kaine.

Old Man Spider says they need to act quickly to recruit the other team before the Inheritors find them, claiming that three teams will be enough to recruit them, and Peter insists Spider-Gwen stay behind. When she indignantly protests, Ben Reilly begins to tell her how the Gwen Stacy of Earth-616 died but says it will have to wait until later. Old Man Spider gives Peter (Earth-616) one of their devices to travel the Great Web and tells him to pick a team. He choses Miguel, Spider-Woman, and Silk but Old Man Spider insists that Silk remain behind as well, though he refuses to say why. Insulted, Silk waits until they've gone through the portal and then follows.

In the year 2099 A.D., Spider-Man Noir notices a portal opening and rebukes Assassin Spider-Man's suggestion of shooting anything that comes through. Spider-Woman (Earth-807128) calls for their boss and Peter is horrified to see the Superior Spider-Man. Spider-Woman (Earth-616) and Kaine immediately recognize Octavius as well, and Peter explains that he had been time-displaced while fighting Miguel O'Hara, who is delighted to be back in his home dimension. Old Man Spider is perplexed by Octavius's dimension of origin being Earth-616, and outraged that Silk disobeyed orders to remain behind.

When Spider-UK says they need to return to Earth-13, Octavius angrily snaps at him to shut up and that they'd interrupted months of research on a device that dampens their readings to an extent, as Kaine's and Silk's are off the charts. Old Man Spider starts to explain that Kaine and Cindy are the receptacles of powerful totemic entities called the Other and the Bride, but Octavius dismisses his talk of Spider-Totems as superstition. When Daemos emerges from a portal and attacks them, Otto's team - who had been training for such an occurrence - fight back, with Assassin Spider-Man, Spider-Cyborg and Spider-Man Noir firing at him and Spider-Woman (Earth-807128), Spider-Monkey and Six-Armed Spider-Man attacking him and aiming for his vitals. Daemos eventually overpowers them, killing Spider-Cyborg and punching Spider-Woman (Earth-807128), Spider-Monkey and Six-Armed Spider-Man through a wall. During the ensuing brawl, Miles recognizes Peter (Earth-616) and expresses confusion at there being two of him, while Spider-Girl (Earth-982) and Kaine bicker over who will be the one to kill Daemos. Silk glumly watches the battle from the sidelines, stating she never should have come, and Old Man Spider angrily retorts she should have never left the bunker in the first place.

Before she can press him for answers, Octavius interrupts by landing a fatal blow on Daemos, the brutality of his actions causing Miles to agree that Peter (Earth-616) is the real Spider-Man. Peter (Earth-616) remarks that killing Daemos was wrong, but Spider-Girl (Earth-982) tells him it's justice and that she wishes it was by her hand. Peter corrects her, saying that he meant that when he'd killed Morlun the Inheritor's body dissolved but Daemos hasn't. Spider-Man 2099 states that Octavius augmented his weapons with 2099 technology to induce a stasis charge on Daemos' corpse. Six-Armed Spider-Man and Lady Spider then volunteer to help Miguel conduct an autopsy.

Octavius blames Cindy for the Inheritor's attack and begins to suggest they terminate her, but Old Man Spider interrupts, stating that he is the only one who truly knows what's going on. Before he can continue, a portal opens behind him and a second Daemos snaps his neck. Brix and Bora step through as well, and in the ensuing chaos Assassin Spider-Man is killed. Kaine and Ben deduce that the Inheritors are clones, explaining why their bodies disintegrate upon death, and Ben opens a portal to the Inheritors' home base. Ultimate Jessica Drew joins them, stating that she is a clone as well, and Peter (Earth-616) reassures a despondent Miles as Spider-UK opens a portal back to Earth-13. The dying Old Man Spider calls out to Peter (Earth-616), revealing himself to be Ezekiel Sims from a world where Morlun killed Spider-Man. Ezekiel tells Peter (Earth-616) to protect the Scion, the Bride, and the Other at all costs. Silk steals Peter (Earth-616)'s portal device, intending to set right the deaths she caused, and opens a portal while attracting the Inheritors' attention. Spider-Woman (Earth-616) volunteers to follow Silk while Octavius sends Spider-Man Noir to accompany them. Brix notes that the Spiders have Daemos' old body, but he says he'll retrieve it himself and sends them after the Bride. Mayday prepares to attack him, but Peter (Earth-616) stops her and they return to Earth-13. Spider-UK informs the others that Old Man Spider was killed, and Peter (Earth-616) reassures Anya that her mentor and Silk are still alive. Before they can converse any further, Peter (Earth-616)'s Spider-Sense goes off and he turns to see Octavius, claws extended, announcing that they are at war with the Inheritors and from this point on he is now in charge.

(https://marvel.fandom.com/wiki/Amazing_Spider-Man_Vol_3_10)

Fan Art: Leap of Faith by leonardovincent

Accompanying Podcast: ● Amazing Spider Talk - episode 10

[columbocorners]

I do think overexposure is a reason people are so bitchy about people enjoying gator as a character. Which like, I get- the fargo tag is mostly him, that's gotta be so annoying if you're a fargo fan (much like its impossible to peruse the stranger things tag if you dont love eddie munson 🙄). It's stupid really, because it's not really an objective annoyance, it's fandom related*. A lot of people don't seem to have the ability to block those 'OMG MY BBY HES SO PRECIOUS' people and instead fume about it until they've decided everyone who enjoys that character is like that. I've been on both sides of that in the last 15 years. Everyone needs to just calm down, smoke some weed if you partake, and remember it's all fiction. (*not to say people don't have legit reasons, ie sexism racism ect, to dislike the character, but that's not the reasons I've been seeing. Plus hes deliberately written like that for a reason, story wise. Its kinda the point. These are the kind of attitudes being challenged by dot's humanity)

NO EXACTLY BECAUSE IT LOWKEY IS OVEREXPOSURE and if I'm honest I also think it does not at all help that there has been an underwhelming amount of attention on fargo season five in general, because like. the ratio of content even on tiktok astounds me that there was next to none and I am hopeful that people will talk more about other characters

hell lowkey it would surprise people that I made the gator edit I did as a slight after thought because I began to like him more in terms of recent episodes where his behavior didn't just feel like he was antagonistic and you got to see more of them and ironically it was like, the less interactions he had with his dad and with other people who definitely clocked his shitty behavior, the more you saw him grow further from the path of " trying to be him " with dot, witt, etc. especially dot ngl

like I have seen this even in other fandoms I like and the most I have hoped to combat it is through doing fanart of dot and characters and trying to even think up edits ( thankfully a whole scenepack for the ENTIRE season was put out by an editor who I contacted who said they would do it and finally I can do dot and ole munch stuff )

but in general, I love gator, I get the hate but it's like, every fandom really will just have a moment of a lot of charas being overlooked and at least in some of the bigger fandoms this happens but lowkey also smaller fandoms like

I love alice wake from the alan wake franchise, I have been priming myself to draw here but there is like lowkey a veryyy small number of people who talk about her even though her documentary videos in alan wake 2 are so fucking emotional and get to me a lot

and hell, like you said it isn't even people hating folks who like him for that reason, it's just lumping every single enjoyer into one and I do not dig that the original folk who made the link just even tried to be like " oh gator is not even a physical abuse victim because his abuse was rarely shown compared to dot" and I will say to that: fargo season five is DOT's story, it's her abuse, and just because we don't see gator's own side of it doesn't mean we should ignore the glimpses and subtle details in his interactions and scenes where it heavily shows how much gator has been morphed by the people he was forced to grow up with and stick by, even as an adult

like he is apart of the discussion just like every other character and he is very much an example of people I even know who are like that, who ironically are my own siblings who I still live with