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criminalmindsgonewrong · 2 years

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extracts from the book i’ll never write

~le flashback~

“I won’t go.” Six pairs of eyes snapped in her direction. In all of her nineteen years, it was the first time Viv had refused Max anything. The momentary surprise on his face gave her a jolt of vindicated pleasure that was worth the wrath that would certainly follow his confusion. “What did you say?” Max replied, an almost amused smile gracing his lips. He had heard her. He was testing her. He wanted to know if she had the balls to refuse him twice. Max was used to getting his own way with her, with most people, but not this time, not tonight. The exhilaration of defying him fuelled Viv like fire in her veins. She felt strong, steel-willed and angry. She felt angry a lot, lately. Her words came out measured, slow, defiant. “I said; I’m not going.” The eyes around the room flitted between the two of them, but no one spoke. They were all waiting, just as Viv was. Max was staring at her, his black eyes level and unreadable. Viv felt unease curdle the adrenaline that had been providing her strength. This was uncharted territory. It suddenly occurred to her how much Max enjoyed having people under his thumb, how used to unwavering loyalty and unchallenged obedience he was. What would happen to her, she wondered, if she outlived her usefulness? Or if Max thought she was becoming more trouble than she was worth? Viv doubted his sentimentality would save her. She doubted whether he had any sentimentality at all. “Vivienne, my dear,” He said, in a dangerously calm voice, using the full title that she rarely received, “You misunderstand me, or perhaps I misspoke? It wasn’t a request and I’m not asking.” “I’m not a child, Max-” “You are my employee,” He didn’t raise his voice, but he spat each word at her. As unsure as Viv was about how he would react to her defiance, Max didn’t seem to know how to respond either. He wasn’t used to being told no; this was probably the first time it had happened. “You don’t pay me.” Viv heard herself say, and immediately wished she hadn’t as his eyebrows shot up in surprise, only to immediately sink back down and furrow in anger.

“I don’t pay you?” He almost whispered, incredulously, taking a step towards her, suddenly so close that her skin prickled. Instinctively, Viv wanted to cower away. Instead, she held her ground, insolently raising her chin and keeping her eyes locked on his, smelling the foul alcohol that never left his breath. He bent down to her level, lowered his mouth so that it was next to her ear, dropping his voice to an unnervingly quiet volume. When he spoke, he was clear and absolute. “I pay you with your survival. You eat because of me, you sleep in a bed instead of on the streets because of me, you are clothed because of me, you are alive because I keep you safe. Without me you’d be another little street whore, just like your mother-“ As always, the mention of her mother made Viv’s jaw tense, her hands curled into fists at her side. Over Max’s shoulder, she met Nadia’s eyes. The older girl shook her head, imperceptivity, but said nothing. Still, Viv understood the message. Keep your cool. It was difficult. Viv had never wanted to strike Max more than she did right then. “- eating rotten bread and fruit, sleeping in the gutter like a dog, begging for scraps and spreading your legs for every man who passed you for a penny to buy clean water with. If you even lived that long. It’s an existence that many have been reduced to, and one that I saved you from. So the next time you talk to me about payment, Vivienne, think before you open that pretty little mouth.” He said it with such distaste, such scorn, that Viv wondered, not for the first time, why he kept her around at all. When Max stepped back and met her eyes, he was looking at her with an expression that she couldn’t identify. He looked almost amused. Then he sneered at her and turned away. “Stay, then, little street orphan,” He threw over his shoulder, as he swept from the room. “You’ll hate it, the waiting, the wondering. It’ll kill you.” The others followed, Nadia shooting Viv an apologetic glance over her shoulder. She had gotten her own way, she had refused to go and he had let her stay. Somehow, Viv didn’t feel like she had won.

#extracts from the book i'll never write

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mostlysignssomeportents · 8 months

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Greenwashing set Canada on fire

On September 22, I'm (virtually) presenting at the DIG Festival in Modena, Italy. On September 27, I'll be at Chevalier's Books in Los Angeles with Brian Merchant for a joint launch for my new book The Internet Con and his new book, Blood in the Machine.

As a teenager growing up in Ontario, I always envied the kids who spent their summers tree planting; they'd come back from the bush in September, insect-chewed and leathery, with new muscle, incredible stories, thousands of dollars, and a glow imparted by the knowledge that they'd made a new forest with their own blistered hands.

I was too unathletic to follow them into the bush, but I spent my summers doing my bit, ringing doorbells for Greenpeace to get my neighbours fired up about the Canadian pulp-and-paper industry, which wasn't merely clear-cutting our old-growth forests – it was also poisoning the Great Lakes system with PCBs, threatening us all.

At the time, I thought of tree-planting as a small victory – sure, our homegrown, rapacious, extractive industry was able to pollute with impunity, but at least the government had reined them in on forests, forcing them to pay my pals to spend their summers replacing the forests they'd fed into their mills.

I was wrong. Last summer's Canadian wildfires blanketed the whole east coast and midwest in choking smoke as millions of trees burned and millions of tons of CO2 were sent into the atmosphere. Those wildfires weren't just an effect of the climate emergency: they were made far worse by all those trees planted by my pals in the eighties and nineties.

Writing in the New York Times, novelist Claire Cameron describes her own teen years working in the bush, planting row after row of black spruces, precisely spaced at six-foot intervals:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/09/15/opinion/wildfires-treeplanting-timebomb.html

Cameron's summer job was funded by the logging industry, whose self-pegulated, self-assigned "penalty" for clearcutting diverse forests of spruce, pine and aspen was to pay teenagers to create a tree farm, at nine cents per sapling (minus camp costs).

Black spruces are made to burn, filled with flammable sap and equipped with resin-filled cones that rely on fire, only opening and dropping seeds when they're heated. They're so flammable that firefighters call them "gas on a stick."

Cameron and her friends planted under brutal conditions: working long hours in blowlamp heat and dripping wet bulb humidity, amidst clouds of stinging insects, fingers blistered and muscles aching. But when they hit rock bottom and were ready to quit, they'd encourage one another with a rallying cry: "Let's go make a forest!"

Planting neat rows of black spruces was great for the logging industry: the even spacing guaranteed that when the trees matured, they could be easily reaped, with ample space between each near-identical tree for massive shears to operate. But that same monocropped, evenly spaced "forest" was also optimized to burn.

It burned.

The climate emergency's frequent droughts turn black spruces into "something closer to a blowtorch." The "pines in lines" approach to reforesting was an act of sabotage, not remediation. Black spruces are thirsty, and they absorb the water that moss needs to thrive, producing "kindling in the place of fire retardant."

Cameron's column concludes with this heartbreaking line: "Now when I think of that summer, I don’t think that I was planting trees at all. I was planting thousands of blowtorches a day."

The logging industry committed a triple crime. First, they stole our old-growth forests. Next, they (literally) planted a time-bomb across Ontario's north. Finally, they stole the idealism of people who genuinely cared about the environment. They taught a generation that resistance is futile, that anything you do to make a better future is a scam, and you're a sucker for falling for it. They planted nihilism with every tree.

That scam never ended. Today, we're sold carbon offsets, a modern Papal indulgence. We are told that if we pay the finance sector, they can absolve us for our climate sins. Carbon offsets are a scam, a market for lemons. The "offset" you buy might be a generated by a fake charity like the Nature Conservancy, who use well-intentioned donations to buy up wildlife reserves that can't be logged, which are then converted into carbon credits by promising not to log them:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/12/fairy-use-tale/#greenwashing

The credit-card company that promises to plant trees every time you use your card? They combine false promises, deceptive advertising, and legal threats against critics to convince you that you're saving the planet by shopping:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/11/17/do-well-do-good-do-nothing/#greenwashing

The carbon offset world is full of scams. The carbon offset that made the thing you bought into a "net zero" product? It might be a forest that already burned:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/03/11/a-market-for-flaming-lemons/#money-for-nothing

The only reason we have carbon offsets is that market cultists have spent forty years convincing us that actual regulation is impossible. In the neoliberal learned helplessness mind-palace, there's no way to simply say, "You may not log old-growth forests." Rather, we have to say, "We will 'align your incentives' by making you replace those forests."

The Climate Ad Project's "Murder Offsets" video deftly punctures this bubble. In it, a detective points his finger at the man who committed the locked-room murder in the isolated mansion. The murderer cheerfully admits that he did it, but produces a "murder offset," which allowed him to pay someone else not to commit a murder, using market-based price-discovery mechanisms to put a dollar-figure on the true worth of a murder, which he duly paid, making his kill absolutely fine:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/14/for-sale-green-indulgences/#killer-analogy

What's the alternative to murder offsets/carbon credits? We could ask our expert regulators to decide which carbon intensive activities are necessary and which ones aren't, and ban the unnecessary ones. We could ask those regulators to devise remediation programs that actually work. After all, there are plenty of forests that have already been clearcut, plenty that have burned. It would be nice to know how we can plant new forests there that aren't "thousands of blowtorches."

If that sounds implausible to you, then you've gotten trapped in the neoliberal mind-palace.

The term "regulatory capture" was popularized by far-right Chicago School economists who were promoting "public choice theory." In their telling, regulatory capture is inevitable, because companies will spend whatever it takes to get the government to pass laws making what they do legal, and making competing with them into a crime:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/13/public-choice/#ajit-pai-still-terrible

This is true, as far as it goes. Capitalists hate capitalism, and if an "entrepreneur" can make it illegal to compete with him, he will. But while this is a reasonable starting-point, the place that Public Choice Theory weirdos get to next is bonkers. They say that since corporations will always seek to capture their regulators, we should abolish regulators.

They say that it's impossible for good regulations to exist, and therefore the only regulation that is even possible is to let businesses do whatever they want and wait for the invisible hand to sweep away the bad companies. Rather than creating hand-washing rules for restaurant kitchens, we should let restaurateurs decide whether it's economically rational to make us shit ourselves to death. The ones that choose poorly will get bad online reviews and people will "vote with their dollars" for the good restaurants.

And if the online review site decides to sell "reputation management" to restaurants that get bad reviews? Well, soon the public will learn that the review site can't be trusted and they'll take their business elsewhere. No regulation needed! Unleash the innovators! Set the job-creators free!

This is the Ur-nihilism from which all the other nihilism springs. It contends that the regulations we have – the ones that keep our buildings from falling down on our heads, that keep our groceries from poisoning us, that keep our cars from exploding on impact – are either illusory, or perhaps the forgotten art of a lost civilization. Making good regulations is like embalming Pharaohs, something the ancients practiced in mist-shrouded, unrecoverable antiquity – and that may not have happened at all.

Regulation is corruptible, but it need not be corrupt. Regulation, like science, is a process of neutrally adjudicated, adversarial peer-review. In a robust regulatory process, multiple parties respond to a fact-intensive question – "what alloys and other properties make a reinforced steel joist structurally sound?" – with a mix of robust evidence and self-serving bullshit and then proceed to sort the two by pantsing each other, pointing out one another's lies.

The regulator, an independent expert with no conflicts of interest, sorts through the claims and counterclaims and makes a rule, showing their workings and leaving the door open to revisiting the rule based on new evidence or challenges to the evidence presented.

But when an industry becomes concentrated, it becomes unregulatable. 100 small and medium-sized companies will squabble. They'll struggle to come up with a common lie. There will always be defectors in their midst. Their conduct will be legible to external experts, who will be able to spot the self-serving BS.

But let that industry dwindle to a handful of giant companies, let them shrink to a number that will fit around a boardroom table, and they will sit down at a table and agree on a cozy arrangement that fucks us all over to their benefit. They will become so inbred that the only people who understand how they work will be their own insiders, and so top regulators will be drawn from their own number and be hopelessly conflicted.

When the corporate sector takes over, regulatory capture is inevitable. But corporate takeover isn't inevitable. We can – and have, and will again – fight corporate power, with antitrust law, with unions, and with consumer rights groups. Knowing things is possible. It simply requires that we keep the entities that profit by our confusion poor and thus weak.

The thing is, corporations don't always lie about regulations. Take the fight over working encryption, which – once again – the UK government is trying to ban:

https://www.theguardian.com/technology/2023/feb/24/signal-app-warns-it-will-quit-uk-if-law-weakens-end-to-end-encryption

Advocates for criminalising working encryption insist that the claims that this is impossible are the same kind of self-serving nonsense as claims that banning clearcutting of old-growth forests is impossible:

https://twitter.com/JimBethell/status/1699339739042599276

They say that when technologists say, "We can't make an encryption system that keeps bad guys out but lets good guys in," that they are being lazy and unimaginative. "I have faith in you geeks," they said. "Go nerd harder! You'll figure it out."

Google and Apple and Meta say that selectively breakable encryption is impossible. But they also claim that a bunch of eminently possible things are impossible. Apple claims that it's impossible to have a secure device where you get to decide which software you want to use and where publishers aren't deprive of 30 cents on every dollar you spend. Google says it's impossible to search the web without being comprehensively, nonconsensually spied upon from asshole to appetite. Meta insists that it's impossible to have digital social relationship without having your friendships surveilled and commodified.

While they're not lying about encryption, they are lying about these other things, and sorting out the lies from the truth is the job of regulators, but that job is nearly impossible thanks to the fact that everyone who runs a large online service tells the same lies – and the regulators themselves are alumni of the industry's upper eschelons.

Logging companies know a lot about forests. When we ask, "What is the best way to remediate our forests," the companies may well have useful things to say. But those useful things will be mixed with actively harmful lies. The carefully cultivated incompetence of our regulators means that they can't tell the difference.

Conspiratorialism is characterized as a problem of what people believe, but the true roots of conspiracy belief isn't what we believe, it's how we decide what to believe. It's not beliefs, it's epistemology.

Because most of us aren't qualified to sort good reforesting programs from bad ones. And even if we are, we're probably not also well-versed enough in cryptography to sort credible claims about encryption from wishful thinking. And even if we're capable of making that determination, we're not experts in food hygiene or structural engineering.

Daily life in the 21st century means resolving a thousand life-or-death technical questions every day. Our regulators – corrupted by literally out-of-control corporations – are no longer reliable sources of ground truth on these questions. The resulting epistemological chaos is a cancer that gnaws away at our resolve to do anything about it. It is a festering pool where nihilism outbreaks are incubated.

The liberal response to conspiratorialism is mockery. In her new book Doppelganger, Naomi Klein tells of how right-wing surveillance fearmongering about QR-code "vaccine passports" was dismissed with a glib, "Wait until they hear about cellphones!"

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/05/not-that-naomi/#if-the-naomi-be-klein-youre-doing-just-fine

But as Klein points out, it's not good that our cellphones invade our privacy in the way that right-wing conspiracists thought that vaccine passports might. The nihilism of liberalism – which insists that things can't be changed except through market "solutions" – leads us to despair.

By contrast, leftism – a muscular belief in democratic, publicly run planning and action – offers a tonic to nihilism. We don't have to let logging companies decide whether a forest can be cut, or what should be planted when it is. We can have nice things. The art of finding out what's true or prudent didn't die with the Reagan Revolution (or the discount Canadian version, the Mulroney Malaise). The truth is knowable. Doing stuff is possible. Things don't have to be on fire.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/16/murder-offsets/#pulped-and-papered

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yanderestarangel · 6 months

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Do you write pregnant sex?👀 If so, gentle Dom Grandmaster Bi-han x self conscious pregnant reader?

If not, do not feel pressured to write. Sending love💖, your blog is great!🙂

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐧 ꒰ ♡ ꒱

꒰ ♡ ꒱ TW: afab anatomy, lactation!kink, v!sex, soft sex, fingered, not revised, pregnant sex, mother/father used to refer to the reader, praise, soft dom!bi han, bi han!husband.

Bi Han was never a gentle man, your sex was always aggressive and practically animalistic, with Grand Master Lin Kuei growling and fucking you anywhere he could - however, upon discovering your pregnancy, he forced himself to be the more gentle.

He loved watching your belly grow slowly over a few weeks, knowing that it was his seed in there, you noticed his change, especially in bed... Your husband helped you relieve the pressure of pregnancy - in addition to generating a strong desire in helping to alleviate the milk heaviness of your breasts.

That night, he admired you in the dim orange light, watching you with your dress loose from your growing pregnancy.

"-I wouldn't want anyone to carry my child but you." Bi Han spoke cutting through the silence, standing up from the armchair while putting away the book she was reading-and reaching between your legs to caress and squeeze your growing belly.

"-Besides, you look even more beautiful with that belly, you know?" He continued with a playful growl, it was the few times in years or months that you saw him smile sincerely, he was anxious... But mainly, with such strong desires for you like that, round, pretty and so... Delicate.

Your partner noticed the milk leaking from the cleavage of your thin fabric, hurting them while you complained about the weight and pressure applied to your body by the natural process, so, he soon had an idea that could satisfy your needs and his as well.

"-Just lie down and I'll take care of it for you."

His voice was steady despite the growing lust emanating from him. Bi han reached out, gently grabbing one of your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, applying pressure to help release more milk. As he did so, he couldn't resist moving closer, his lips brushing your shoulder blade before moving down towards your neck.

"-You smell so good my bunny... And that little one inside you is already very strong... I promise to be the best father I can be." He whispered, practically moaning, his hands moved down, caressing your belly, feeling its softness and warmth.

"-I can't wait to see that belly grow even bigger and bigger, you just make me proud (Y/N), I'm the happiest fucking man in the world to have you." Bi Han spoke with his eyes focused on yours, his cold fingers traced a pattern on your nipples, until he completely removed your dress, his eyes widened in admiration when he saw your naked form, admiring how incredible you looked pregnant with his child.

"-You... will be the most beautiful father/mother anyone has ever seen" He then moved his mouth to your skin, sucking and teasing your breasts vigorously, he moved on to the other breast while his hand continued its obscene exploration of your regions bottom, finding the sweet channel of your swollen pussy, massaging the aching folds. With each thrust of his tongue against your sensitive bud, he slowly pushed two fingers inside your tight cunt, slowly stretching it. The sensation was unlike anything he had ever experienced; more intimate, but equally forbidden and beautiful.

"-You taste... so delicious..." Sub zero moaned, sucking harder on your nipple, extracting all the possible milk he could - it hurt slightly, but the sensation was extremely comforting compared to the pain you felt all day. His hands held your waist tightly as he looked into your eyes, looking for any sign of discomfort.

"-You are the most beautiful little thing I have ever seen, no lin kuei treasure, silver, gold or diamond compares to you my sweet little thing." Bi han whispered in your ear, lightly pinching your earlobe, he leaned forward, kissing you passionately, your tongue tangling with his, while his free hand went down between your legs, massaging your clit harder.

"-Let me know if I'm hurting you or if you want more." The combination of pleasure and intimacy was driving him crazy. His shaft contracted violently in his pants, stretching the fabric, with every angelic and chaste sound that came from your lips because of him, he knew how to relieve you-and most of all excite you.

"-Fuck, you really look like an angel now..." He murmured, unable to resist any longer; Standing right above you, he grabbed your hips and lifted you up until both your legs wrapped around his waist comfortably, he rested both muscular arms under you, as he lightly and slowly thrust his cock into your wetness, he was never so gentle with you... But the cyromancer had changed, with a slow and careful thrust, he closed his eyes, opening his mouth as he thrust himself inside your warm body, your walls swallowing every inch he had to offer.

You could look directly at every furl, every expression of his above you, how his length was only half inside you, how he didn't want to hurt you and just loved and adored you, every hot yet cold kiss placed on your face, every whisper of approval calling you "good boy/good girl" that he said between moans between cuts, was like a damn dream that you never wanted to end.

"-Ah- Fuck! So tight baby- Mmm-" Bi Han panted between each thrust, you could hear the wet sound and rhythm of his balls hitting your ass, how he was sighing beautifully as he controlled himself from slamming you into the mattress.

His hands gripped your ass tightly, lifting it a little before slamming back onto his dick, claiming ownership over you, he sped up but at a point where you felt pleasure, moaning his name loudly and cum - he loved you seeing it like that, pouring out compliments about how beautiful you were, how perfect you were, how you were his and his alone, his hips rocked back and forth rhythmically, creating a mesmerizing soundtrack for their intimate dance, however, even if he wanted it to last forever, he really needed to cum and especially to make you cum.

Sub zero grunted a few things, bending over again and sucking the sweet, thin milk from your breasts, pushing the head of his dick right into your G-spot, while you screamed that you were going to cum, he just sped up, being careful with your body and belly, encouraging you to let go of everything on him. He was there with you, teetering on the edge of release.

"-J-Just Tell me when... tell me when... Baby... Oh Yes- Fucking hell-" was all you could hear before milking his cock hard as you held on to one of his arms, your side in bed. Bi Han couldn't hold back any longer, the load erupted from him, filling his belly and breasts with hot seed.

His thrusts gradually slowed down, finally stopping inside you, he remained buried inside you, feeling every contraction of your pussy around his member. "-Ahh... That was... fucking incredible my love..." The grandmaster managed to say between panting breaths. With a groan of satisfaction, he pulled out of you slowly, his cock leaving trails of cum behind it. Wiping away some of the excess on your belly with the tips of his fingers, he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on your forehead and remained sitting on your side, breathing heavily, Absorbing the consequences of the lustful and loving encounter between the two of you, Bi Han's mouth was dripping with your milk, as he sighed heavily, brushing away some stray strands of your hair, as he returned to massaging your stomach and pussy, you could see the love and careful with his brown irises.

Bi Han looked at you, marveling at how beautiful you looked, even covered in sweat and cum - He reached out, running his thumb along your cheek, catching some of the remaining beads of sweat. "-We did something special together, didn't we?"

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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josefavomjaaga · 18 days

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Hortense about Duroc's love letter

This is translated from Hortense's memoirs, Tome 1, for @sillybumblebeegirl. I'll add the usual disclaimer: I'm personally very suspicious about anything she writes that cannot be backed up by a second source. It's known that Hortense reworked her memoirs several times and that she was an excellent writer who knew how to captivate an audience.

That being said, here we go 😁:

Of all the young men around me, only one dared to aspire to my hand in marriage: Colonel Duroc. The recollection of the Consul's plan to have him marry his sister [Caroline] gave him the idea that he would not oppose a union with me. I had noticed that he was more embarrassed than others when talking to me, more frequent at Malmaison, but never a word had betrayed his impressions. Murat extracted his secret from him and set about making the marriage a success.

"She is a romantic young person," he said, "with whom you have to sigh for a long time before you can please. However, you also have to declare yourself and tell her that you love her."

Indeed, one day when I came back to fetch a book I had forgotten in the salon, Duroc approached me looking rather shaky, and gave me the book himself. When I got home, I opened it and found a letter. What should I do now? To read it seemed a great mistake. I went back down to return it. Duroc was no longer there: the Consul had just sent him on a mission. It was at the moment of his departure that he had dared to declare himself. I put the letter in my desk, which I did not close, as was my custom, and left my room.

As chance would have it, at dinnertime the Consul, who often took pleasure in intimidating me, entered the living room with my mother and finding me already there, said to me: "We've come from your room. We've been through all your things and read all your sweet notes. Ah, it's lovely to receive such beautiful declarations." I blushed, stammered and forgot that the joke was nothing new. I thought I was guilty: it was enough to make me look guilty. Uncertain of my answer, I rushed out and ran to the secretary: the letter was still sealed. I came back down more calmly. My emotion had not escaped the Consul and my mother. They told me with surprise when I returned: "Could it be true? Do you have secrets? You fled quite quickly to your room". Fortunately, dinner put an end to my embarrassment. That same evening, my mother was informed of everything. Duroc had left a letter with Murat to await my reply. I told Caroline that I would never make up my mind without knowing my mother's opinion, and I asked her to send back this famous letter. "I don't know," I added, "whom fate has destined for me, but I won't have to reproach myself for having read a love letter from someone other than the man who is to be my husband." I must confess that before handing it in, I had a good mind to try and read it without opening it to see how a declaration was written, but I resisted and thought I had deserved some credit for it. Duroc, though not the man my imagination pictured as worthy of all my affections, did not displease me. I recognised many qualities in him. His great respect for me made me believe in his feelings. Yet so often, when I listened to him, I would say: "That's not it yet".

Well, perhaps I would have married him had it not been for my mother's formal opposition. The Consul did not object, but she only thought about it with sorrow. Brought up with the ideas generally held by the nobility, in her eyes it was a misalignment to enter a family that did not belong to it. Prejudice lurked beneath the care she took to welcome everyone equally. It had no influence whatsoever on her kindness, which extended equally to everyone, but nothing seemed to her distinguished enough for her daughter. Although Duroc was a gentleman, she would have liked to have seen greater distinction in him or in his ancestors. "I never could get used to hearing you called Madame Duroc," she would say to me. "'Would you love him? I would despair of it." I reassured my mother. I repeated that my heart was calm, my position happy and that I had no desire to change that.

This all takes place a short time after Murat's marriage, and I like how Murat is included in this. It's to be noted that at this point, Hortense and Caroline were besties, so Hortense could confide in Caroline without problems, Caroline then in Murat, and Murat could inform Duroc (who probably was on his way to Saint-Petersburg? Would that fit the timeline?).

As to historical events, I kinda doubt Hortense was really that clueless about Duroc's feelings for her. If I'm not completely mistaken I remember a letter by Eugène that mentioned Duroc wanting Hortense to come visit the army camp (before the Marengo campaign?). Which then had old Madame Campan throw an epistolary hissy fit about how unseemly this would be for an unmarried young lady.

In any case, Hortense clearly was not heartbroken over this event. If she had married Duroc, it would not have been out of love but out of lack for "better" options.

#napoleon's marshals #napoleon's family #hortense de beauharnais #geraud christophe michel duroc #paris 1801 #consulate #@sillybumblebeegirl

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erysium · 1 year

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You've talked about writing your comic in a few asks before, I was wondering if you have advice/ resources for artists writing their own comics? I've only ever scene stuff for writers writing for an artist and would love to see what goes into your scripts.

haha I'm a little shy about trying to give advice this, since I feel like I'm a lot weaker at writing than drawing! writing is really stressful & difficult for me.. I would never want to write for someone else, because a lot of my 'writing' process is really just drawing things out, and seeing what works. When I edit my scripts for anyone else to read over, I cut about 2/3rds of what I have written in as notes - stuff that mostly only make sense to me (ie 'referencing this scene in chapter 3,' 'an expression like in that scene in that cool amv' or 'this part inspired by the ending of that movie/book/etc') as well as the 2-3 what-if versions I have for every scene, that I sometimes only finalize/decide between when I'm working on thumbnails and finally seeing how it all flows on the page together. or after someone who's helping me edit takes a look and has thoughts. When I have an idea for a scene, it's also usually in some visual form - so I'll jot down some notes in my story doc, and then sketch out the acting & feeling I'm imagining to see if it feels like anything when it's down on paper. As it sits in my notes for months or years (while I'm working on and reading other stuff,) that moment might change a little in my memory, or develop more..or the point of that scene might feel less clear when i reread it with fresh eyes, and it might get cut.

I guess for overall advice - find a process that works for you! If you're a more visual person, you can find ways to work visuals first, and then trace your steps back to extract the story from those cool visuals, and then figure out how to puzzle piece all those cool visuals & moments together. & ofc, reading a lot, watching a lot of movies, listening to podcasts or anything narrative, is important for developing your voice & priorities & style as a writer, the same way you do as a visual artist. :-)

(This is what i wrote when I was reorganizing the flow of the first 10 pages in this chapter - I have an idea of the conversation's exact wording written down earlier, so I'm just figuring out if the emotional beats makes some sense with the overall tone in mind, sometimes having a good idea that pulls things together better (highlighted in purple so I don't forget it) or greyed out so I can ignore it (but not deleted, so that I remember that i already had that idea & discarded it for a reason) .. also Kye is always 'k' in my notes & Sonya is always 'v' because i don't want to write their names out all the time lol)

#ask #writing #comic #webcomic #is this useful ??#writing is rewriting #comics is writing & rewriting & drawing & rewriting & redrawing & then final art

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pregnantseinfeld · 1 year

Text

I believe that I made a post like this last year (though i can't find it because of how bad tumblr's search feature is), so here are some books I read in 2022 that I'd recommend!

Black Reconstruction in America By W.E.B. Du Bois

I started this in late 2021. It's a big thorough book but this is so it can carefully dispel every myth about the period, while also using these details to demonstrate a bigger picture: revealing just how much was gained in a short time, and how massive a squandered opportunity it's end represented. I'll have to write more about this sometime because this history is so engrossing that even seemingly minor tangents it takes somehow made me drastically rethink aspects of present day politics. (pdf)

Capital Volume 1 by Karl Marx

Another tough one I'd started the year prior, I don't want to scare anyone off but I suggest looking into some kind of supplementary material online when tackling it. There's not much I can say that others haven't of course, so I'll leave it at this, once I put in the effort and it clicked, I felt... It's as if somebody told you just now for the first time that living things are made up of cells. I hope that makes sense. (pdf)

Open Veins of Latin America by Eduardo Galeano

Read this one feverishly, it never hit me until this book how little I knew about this huge portion of the world. While as a historical text it is great, it's also is an excellent teacher on subjects like resource extraction and underdevelopment by using concrete examples. It builds a foundation to understanding the ways"wealthy" countries exploit "poor" ones. (pdf)

The Dawn of Everything by David Graeber and David Wengrow

As the fear around climate change understandably mounts there is also a growing need to combat eco-fascist rhetoric. This book takes on the misconception that the day we planted too many seeds in one place we became doomed to an unavoidable demise by offering interesting examples from our extremely long journey as a species. It's a book about how much more complicated we are, and how many unique directions we've taken. We are far from predestined for failure because of Mesopotamian farmers. (pdf)

Other Honorable Mentions!

Blackshirts and Reds by Michael Parenti (pdf) is a quick read and offered worthwhile new insights I hadn't considered, even if I was spoiled on the coolest passages from years of them floating around tumblr. A James Connolly Reader edited by Shaun Harkin is a great collection that got me really into Irish revolutionary and socialist James Connolly who was extraordinarily insightful and is not talked about enough!!! Since I cant find the book itself here's an online collection of his writing. Lastly Shame and Endurance by H. Henrietta Stockel (internet archives) is an account of the Chiricahua Apache's 27 years of imprisonment, a too often overlooked atrocity, that uses sources from this time period to document just how obviously observably cruel this situation was.

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killerskillercaptain · 2 years

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Pillow Talk with Levi Ackerman BOOK I : Kuchel

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x Reader

Themes : hurt/comfort, canonverse, romance, established relationship, Levi and reader are married, late night conversations, deep conversations, reader wants to know more about the most important people in Levi's life.

Warning: none

WC: 1155

A/N: Hi ya'll, i guess i'm back ? Slowly but surely i'll try to write again.

PILLOW TALK WITH LEVI ACKERMAN BOOKS :

I Kuchel

II Kenny

III Hange

IV Erwin

V Farlan & Isabel

VI Mikasa

VII Eren

Right when your head hit the pillow, you looked at Levi through your locks sprinkled all over you, and asked a question that was burning your lips for the longest time.

"Levi ?"

"Hm"

"Tell me more about Kuchel"

Even if the only source of light present in the room was only a veil of moonlight, you still caught the small sparkle in Levi's eyes. It only lasted for a second before disappearing as fast as it had appeared.

He didn't look at you and kept inspecting the ceiling, his hands knitted together ontop of his chest.

"I don't remember much about her to be honest"

You listened carefully to the words your husband just uttered while hugging your pillow tightly, a habit you always did to comfort yourself.

Neither one of you ever brought this subject to the table. Levi would sometimes mention his mother when relevant to a conversation, which was once in a blue moon truly. He would never go further than saying her name or a quick fact about her, he would never open up to share much about that time. Tonight, strangely enough, your curiosity begged for a little more.

You thought Levi wanted to keep his mother's memories to himself, wanting to seal them away from everyone, including you. This made you feel like you were being denied access to an important part of his life that helped shape his being. Tonight, you understood that this was untrue.

He didn't want to keep his mother a secret from you, he just didn't have enough to tell you about her.

"Was she...kind ?" You asked, tugging at the delicate silk covering your pillow, a bit hesitant to look him in the eyes, since you felt this was a touchy subject.

"I guess she was, i don't recall her being disgraceful or violent towards me. Even when she was at her lowest, she always looked after me."

"I think i would have appreciated her a lot" You whispered to the pillow.

Levi hummed in response. He was never one to talk much, not in all that time spent at the military and not even after you two confessed your feelings to each other and decided to settle down together. Getting him to talk about his feelings was like extracting diamonds out of a mine. Difficult but very rewarding.

"Why do you ask about her now ?"

The question caught you off guard.

You wanted to know what kind of person he grew up next to, when exactly did he raise this wall so high that even you, his wife, could not break through it sometimes.

It wasn't that Levi wasn't open with you, you're probably the only person he opens up to the most and the only person he allows to peek into his vulnerability.

You asking about his mother was completely genuine, you thought that getting him to talk about his mother would somehow get you closer to him and vice versa. You loved Levi so much you always searched for ways to get more entangled with him, be it through his past, the present or both of your futures. You thought digging out this piece that belonged to his past would make him truly yours, as silly as this might sound.

You tried to paint a face, tried to imagine what his mother would have looked like. What Kuchel would have looked like. You imagined her sharing the same thin eyebrows as her only son, the same delicate features adorning her face. You guessed he inherited his dark hair from her, imagining her brushing her long black locks.

For some reason, you imagined her doing that alone, in the corner of a gloomy bedroom is some abandoned brothel. Your heart scrunched at the thought. Levi being brought to life in such an environment made you sad, resentful, even.

He deserved better.

What did his father look like ? Did he get his short stature from him ? His uncle Kenny was tall, so maybe Kuchel was too. Was his father nothing more than a “client” to his mother ? Is that all he was ? A fleeting person that appeared out of nowhere and left behind him the most valuable human being inside the walls ?

For a second, you felt hatred and disgust for his progenitor. You hugged your pillow even harder, refraining to share that feeling with Levi.

Your mind even wondered to the night (or day) Levi was conceived in before you forced your mind to go back to more proper thoughts.

This man, so strong and respectable, had an inexplicably hard life. Sometimes you were in pure admiration of how he got himself out of the gutter. This man could have gone so wrong but somehow decided not to.

You wondered If Kuchel was still alive, how your life would have been different. Would you and Levi go visit her at her home, somewhere peaceful, maybe in the countryside ? Would she make you tea knowing how much her son loves it ? She'd have a special way of brewing it, just the way Levi likes it, the only way Levi likes it. She'd give you the secret to preparing the beverage because she'd want you to make your husband happy and because she apprciates you too.

For a moment, you could almost smell the scent of Kuchel's tea, feel the kitchen's air being filled with the sound of the tea brewing, you could smell the perfume in her hair as she turned around to fill your cup, of her dress's fabric…

You felt the weight of the mattress shift next to you, almost tearing you out of your reverie. Levi just got closer, his scent suddenly more present, you couldn't help taking it all in. Man, you loved him so much.

All those years spent together as comrades, high ranked commanders and then finally, spouses, had made you unbearably attached to the man, but more on a spiritual level. You two survived every catastrophe that was thrown your way during your service in the military, before and even after everything collapsed, this had to be a miracle.

He held you closer to him, and you took in the scent of his fabric.

"I just want to know more about you" You said softly

"I think it's better to leave the past where it is" He said before pausing.

He seemed to pounder for a moment, as if trying to find the right way to end the conversation and never have you ask about her again.

"My mother was a good woman. I loved her dearly"

You tightened your hold on him, those words moved you in ways you wouldn't be able to describe.

"I love you Levi" you said before starting to doze off slowly, peaceful with Levi's modest confession.

Asleep, you didn't feel Levi's fingers brushing your locks aside to whisper to your temple.

"Kuchel would have loved you too".

#levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman fluff #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi fic #levi fanfiction #levi x you #levi ackerman reader insert #snk fic #aot fic #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #aot #attack on titan #kuchel fluff #kuchel ackerman #fluff

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beantothemax · 2 months

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First day of school was fine. Surgically extracted the angst from this fic cause I am NOT writing that!!!!!

Most of Lyn's little makeshift army had returned home. They were always happy to fight tyranny, but now with Lundgren gone, they had little reason to stay. As Lyn said farewell to her friends, she kept wondering about one of them.

They weren't quite friends, Erk was very distant, but she still cared about them.

"Where are you going now?" she asked.

"Visiting my sister. I just got a letter from some asshole who says he's her boyfriend, apparently she's gotten herself sick," Erk rolled her eyes.

Lyn stared at them for several long moments before exclaiming, "YOU HAVE A SISTER!?"

"Parents, too. I'm a biological creature, of course I have family," Erk replied.

Lyn followed Erk and asked at least a million questions as they packed but she was greatly disappointed by the short, unenthusiastic answers.

"I should be off," Erk finally said.

"At least let me escort you to the harbor!" Lyn insisted.

Erk wanted to decline, they truly wanted to make the journey alone but sighed and said yes, in fear that a potential employer may dislike them when they returned.

Big mistake though. Just before Erk could board the ship to Magvel, Lyn insisted on giving her a great hug.

"And take this Sacaean candy! If your sister is sick, this will help her recover," Lyn smiled.

"I'll be sure to give it to her," Erk mumbled.

She boarded the ship and reluctantly waved goodbye to Lyn.

Next stop: Renais castle.

- - -

Artur knew nothing of spider bites and wrote what Lute told him to.

"It's life threatening, I may die," she had said with an unchanging tone and expression, "If I kick the bucket, record all my symptoms and their progression- well, it won't matter if you do because I won't be able to continue my research."

"Lute! Don't say such things, I'll do everything I can to help you," Artur insisted with tears in his eyes, but she dozed off once more.

She had been asleep for just shy of two days, occasionally waking up, but for no longer than some minutes at time. It allowed her to drink, eat, take medicine, and say sarcastic, insensitive things to her friends who worried for her, but little else.

After some days with very little progress, an extraordinarily loud banging on the door awoke her.

"Leave me alone!" she hissed, retreating under the covers.

Artur rose and opened the door, seeing only a young mage who was quite a bit shorter than him.

"Could you please quiet down?" he requested.

"Are you Artur?" they asked plainly.

"Umm... Yes?"

"Step aside," she opened the door wider and walked in.

Artur quickly closed the door behind her so that no light would come in, before returning his attention to the mage.

"Excuse me, you can't be here," he said.

"You wrote me a letter."

"When?"

They pulled the envelope from their pocket and handed it to Artur before shaking Lute awake. He read the first line and finally realized this was the Erk that Lute had mentioned. She never said how short or inconsiderate they were.

"Stop being lazy, you'll be fine, you big baby," Erk muttered.

"Erk!?" Lute yelled.

She sat up suddenly and hugged them tight. Truly, she looked like death. Her skin was pale and grey, eyes hardly open with exhaustion.

She hated being sincere, hated telling people she loved them and especially hated doing it in front of other people, but Lute was the exception. Her dear big sister had been the only one to advocate for her when she said she wanted to study abroad and she had always been there when there was a problem.

When their parents didn't understand Erk's new identity, neither did Lute, but she tried her best for her beloved sibling.

"Sorry I couldn't be here sooner, I had to help overthrow a false marquess. Also, I brought some Lycian medicine, an Etrurian spell book and some Sacaean candy," Erk muttered.

"You leave Magvel once and come back spoiling me," Lute chuckled but the strain made her cough.

Erk let go of her and placed her back on the bed. They looked through every inch of their bag, placing all the medicine on the night stand. While they searched for cough drops, Artur sat silently in the corner. He didn't wish to intrude upon this reunion as Lute said she hadn't seen her darling little sibling in ages.

"You overthrew a marquess?" Lute asked in her weak, hoarse voice.

"Kind of. A man tried to kill his brother, the actual marquess and his estranged granddaughter to take the position for himself," Erk muttered.

"I bet you showed 'em who's boss."

"I did."

They found the cough medicine and poured a spoon of it, holding it to Lute's lips, "This tastes really bad," they warned.

Lute grimaced the moment it touched her lips, but she drank it all.

"My little sibling is all grown up," she smiled.

"Not according to lord Pent, he says I'm hardly qualified to be a mage," Erk snickered.

They laughed and caught up in a fashion Artur couldn't quite understand. They seemed to mock each other, calling each other horrible names but laughing through it all. Erk was in the middle of a story about an obnoxious pink haired girl when Lute yawned one last time before nodding off.

"We should let her rest," Erk said.

Artur followed close behind when she left.

"Are you two upset with each other?" he asked.

"No, why do you think that?"

"You kept insulting each other."

"...Have you no siblings?"

"No."

"That explains it," Erk smiled.

They talked little while Artur showed them to a guest room. She lay down her bags before he hesitantly asked, "Do you think she'll be okay? With the spider bite, I mean."

"She'll be up and walking again in a day or two, those things are rarely fatal. She's just being dramatic," Erk said.

"She usually downplays her injuries though..." Artur thought, "Do you think it's because she wanted to see you?"

"Huh?"

"She said it's been almost three years since you were last home, maybe she saw a chance to see you again and took it."

She thought of the possibility and shrugged, "Maybe."

No one in the family had ever been big on showing affection, but she supposed so much time apart could change that.

"I might stay a while, my teacher was going to give me a break anyway and I'm curious about this 'war of stones' that took place in my absence."

oh erk you are most definitely a creature.

lute going ‘hey if I die write down how I die’ and IMMEDIATLY conking out as artur is just

is fantastic. ten outta ten

AND JUST. WEGH. THEMMMMMMMMMMM… MY SILLY OURPLE MAGE GIRL BESTIES…. AUH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#YAY YAY YAYA YIPPEEE YAY YAY YAY ERK AND LUTE SIBLINGS!!!!!!!!!!!!#asks #pie-knight #inbox fic #THEM TALKING WAS SOSOSOS GOOD #JUST #PIE YOU DO VERY GOOD DIALOGUE #sacred beanstones

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spilledinkandtears · 11 months

Text

175mg of lamotrigine, 7.5mg of lorazepam. Could this be my last night? Will I wake up in the morning? I hope not.

Last diary entry/ 13/07/2023 (Via @spilledinkandtears)

#spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #extracts from a book i'll never write #spilled tears #extract from a book i'll never write #excerpt from a story i'll never write #excerpt from a book i'll never write #excerpt from my life #drug overdose

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datastate · 4 months

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1 18 21 30!!!!!!!!!

this got super long, so i'll put it under read more, but thank you so much :] this was fun

What themes would you like to write about that you feel don’t get explored very often?

hmm... this is an interesting one, because i don't consciously think of themes while i'm writing my works. a lot of my ideas are drawn from displaying or testing the limits of what the established world allows, and then working from there. my original works show this off the most, with how much i've had to repurpose my "main cast" :P it's not as though i'd consider my work "meaningless," but i do have a difficult time trying to pinpoint specific themes in my own works. much of it is formed/drawn from grief, and explores as much, but as for what it specifically says about it... i don't know! i feel like i'm too close to really extract a certain meaning from it, especially with my own callous views on mortality - though i suppose even that could have its purpose. after all, if nothing's meant to last, then archive the memory and share it beyond its intended lifetime; this is what human bonds are meant for... or something to that effect <3

What writers have inspired you with their use of language? What are some of your favorite quotes?

okay, so fun fact - when i was younger, my writing style was heavily inspired by animorphs. sound effects within writing and all. i even took on "he swore under his breath" before i truly registered what that entailed (swears = cussing...! woah!) and then i turned 8 and began reading some of my mother's books. jane eyre, pride & prejudice, and... frankenstein. oh frankenstein. i kept revisiting it over the next few years, and that book completely changed how i wanted to approach my ideas and my writing style in general - it was much easier for me to digest the scene descriptors in frankenstein than anything else, though i can't pinpoint exactly why. i felt as if it was finally within my reach to work on more than dialogue exchanges, though it still took much longer to practice envisualizing what scenes i'm writing. i still struggle with it, but definitely less so than i used to! in more recent memory, though... i will say that black sun was my initial spark to finally thinking "i want to write again. i want to make something as meaningful as this again" - specifically in its character introductions being so. striking. i still have to finish the book, but i really admire how distinct each character is and the display of what drives them being clear in how they phrase even the smallest things... it's very interesting to me!!

& i. very rarely write down my favorite quotes, i realize, but upon a glance here are a few that i feel do them some justice :]

“People don’t understand the word ruthless. They think it means ‘mean.’ It’s not about being mean. It’s about seeing the bright, clear line that leads from A to B. The line that goes from motive to means. Beginning to end. It’s about seeing that bright, clear line and not caring about anything but the beautiful fact that you can see the solution. Not caring about anything else but the perfection of it.” — Animorphs, book 30 "It felt good to hear Jake say I was indispensable, but with Jake you could never be sure what was sincere, and what was just expedient. [...] he'd been the leader for a long time now, he'd learned to say what he needed to say. Jake needed me as one of the Animorphs. He liked me, respected me, was happy for me when I was happy. And when he had to, he used me without any regard for anything except winning." — Animorphs, book 33 “I enjoyed this scene; and yet my enjoyment was embittered both by the memory of the past, and the anticipation of the future. I was formed for peaceful happiness. During my youthful days discontent never visited my mind; and if I was ever overcome by ennui, the sight of what is beautiful in nature, or the study of what is excellent and sublime in the productions of man, could always interest my heart, and communicate elasticity to my spirits. But I am a blasted tree; the bolt has entered my soul; and I felt then that I should survive to exhibit, what I shall soon cease to be -- a miserable spectacle of wrecked humanity, pitiable to others, and intolerable to myself." — Frankenstein “Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and humanity; but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures, who owe me nothing?” — Frankenstein

How do you come up with titles? Do you use placeholders or tend to change your titles while writing the first draft?

i typically leave titles as the very last thing! unless i'm specifically writing something with a line in mind to hold as the title, i usually summarize what i'm writing as the 'placeholder title' ... in fics, i usually draw from songs or common sayings (ie. memento mori, master of none, or even poetry / prayer) - though not all the time. similar to my original stories, i sometimes just enjoy putting together a few words that match it, or have it be symbolized by a single word (*not used for my original stories ... i want it to be more distinct :P)

What is some of the best writing advice you’ve read or received? Why does it work for you?

it's been a long time since i've really read writing advice/overtly received it... even the "you're writing an arc, not a character" isn't advice i received, but just. how i learned to write stories in general? though i suppose it's the closest thing that counts :P i can't think of anything else i'm afraid

#i also want to read Iocked tomb but i haven't felt like getting into anything new latelyyy ahhh </3 #but yes. thank uuu #ask #friends #spacefreckle

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inertflouride · 2 years

Text

Turmoils of you- Part 1

Episode 10 references ⚠️

Summary: Instead of Jake, it is MC who decides to go to the mines to save Hannah and Richy. But will Jake allow that to happen?

Warnings: Swearing, TW- kidnapping, drugging (I can't think of more)

This is my first time writing a fanfic or a public writing piece, so well, do share how did you find it. Hehe.

UNKNOWN IS ONLINE

Unknown: I will let them both go, under one condition

MC: What is the condition?

Unknown: I want you to come to Duskwood

MC: How stupid do you think I am?

Unknown: Nobody will get hurt

MC: You can't possibly be serious

UNKNOWN IS NOW OFFLINE

"You've got to be fucking kidding me", I scoff and toss my phone towards the edge of the bed. The moment he texted me, all I wanted to do was inform Jake and the group about this, tell them the audacity of this bonehead's request. I held my head in my palms, amidst my worsened migraine, contemplating over how to go about it when something crosses my mind. "What if I do go to Duskwood?", I straighten up, "Maybe I can bring an end to all this mess." I knew for a fact that Jake would never let me do that, even if Hannah's life was on the line. He even went to the extent of making me promise him that I would never come to Duskwood.

So, obviously, I didn't want him to know, nor did I wish to tell the group about this because I don't know how but every time I tell them something, this Michael guy comes to know about it too. As for Jake, he should not have read the messages Michael has send, yet, since he still would be busy with the attempts to extract something from the live stream of his sister and Richy. So if I am planning to go, now is my chance.

I went offline and started packing, mainly only food necessities and extra batteries. I mean what if I somehow got stuck in those dark mines? Every moment was feeling more or less like a suicide mission if I'm being completely honest.

Doing as per Michael's demands will mean nosediving straight into the devil's mouth. Having realised that, I begin to think of a plan, and quick. I book a flight to Colville and download the Ironsplinter mines' map before taking off, don't ask me from where, and went through it, marking the entrances, exits, the location of the hatch with a red marker. I decided to go through Alan's chats again to imagine the area around there. According to the map, there was another entrance to the mines, west to the entrance he wants me to be at. I wouldn't be trusting a two decades old map if I had other options but well, here I go.

Matter of fact: I can't be in a hand-to-hand combat with Michael. I mean yes, I will carry a pepper spray but I don't expect it to occupy my favourite raven guy (Dan's peculiar name keeping habits are catching to me) up until I get both the possibly drugged hostages out. Therefore, I needed to be decisive over how I go about it. The only way I can get them both out safely and without having a heart attack myself is if I go undetected by Michael in the mines and that is if he anticipates me coming from the east entrance. That would keep him fixated on the hatch in Duskwood. Plus he can't possibly rush towards me. The mine itself is 60 miles in distance.

As soon as I land in Colville, I take a taxi to Terrendale, which was hardly a 20 minutes drive from Colville. Okay then, show time baby. I begin to type in a quick text to my fellow Crowman.

UNKNOWN IS ONLINE

MC: I'll be there in 15 minutes

MC: Can't wait to see you Michael!

UNKNOWN IS NOW OFFLINE

I mean, doesn't hurt to be sarcastic. And just like that, I get as close as I can to the entrance of the mine. It isn't that far from where I am, so I walk up to there. The more closer I keep getting to the destination, the more I feel that my heart would jump out at any moment. My hands get sweaty, my breath shallows. Am I chickening out? Of course. I am.

There it is: the Terrendale entrance to the mine, pitch black and no sign of life.

"Fuck this", I groan and take out my cellphone. I see messages in the group but don't feel like responding to them. Scrolling down, I open my chat with Jake for one last time? Well, there isn't going to be great network down there and if I don't end up staying alive, then yes.

MC: Hey Jake, you there?

JAKE IS ONLINE

Jake: Yes. I am.

MC: I have to tell you something important

MC: Just promise me you will not get upset

Jake: What is it, MC?

MC: I feel like I'm doing something stupid

MC: I am here in front of the mine entrance right now

MC: But of course, I am not THAT stupid, so I decided to get in from the Terrendale entrance of the mine

JAKE IS NOW OFFLINE

MC: I know I did promise you that I will not come to Duskwood but hey, I technically am not in Duskwood

MC: Come on, you have to agree that this isn't above Hannah and Richy's life

MC: Please don't be mad at me, Jake

MC: I will get going now

MC: Forgive me if you can

I wipe a stray tear on my cheeks and slip my phone in the back pocket of my jeans. There's no going back now. You got to do this and return unscathed, for your friends, for Jake and for yourself.

I stand there for a moment, thinking how 3 months back I wouldn't have done something remotely close to this, definitely not for love and NEVER for someone who I haven't even met but well, the things we do for love.

Sighing, I take out my torch, get a few sips of water and move towards the entrance. "God, just please don't let me die", I say out loud, I don't know to whom. Would it be easier if I just dash into the cave?

Before that, I realise I had forgotten the map in the bag. I take my bag off my shoulders and start searching for the map. If I were to say that I am nervous, I would be making the greatest understatement of this decade.

Just as I get distracted by the "map finding expedition", I hear leaves rustle behind me. "Holy shit", my breathing shoots up and I look behind me, startled, searching for a possible Michael and while also hoping that it is just a small animal.

While I am looking behind me, all of a sudden someone from behind presses a cloth on my mouth and nose. I throw a few unsuccessful kicks behind me, a few elbow jabs too before my vision slowly starts blurring out. All of my already weak attempts of fighting back weakened even further and I knew I was going to pass out soon. Still, I kept thrusting my weight backwards, not making it easy for my pursuer to take me away. He presses the cloth even tighter and in any normal scenario, I surely would have gone out by now, but because I was so driven to save Richy and Hannah, I did my best to put up a fight. Suddenly, I felt his grip loosening up and that's when I put all my energy to push him back. I managed to get him off of me but the effects of the drug kicked in and ultimately, I was on my knees, struggling to stand.

Before I could take a breath of peace, I felt the cloth pressing again, this time I end up inhaling all of it because of the breathlessness from the struggle. "Guess the mission ended way before it started", I mumble before the darkness finally creeps in and takes me off my feet.

PART 2

Okay so chances of grammatical errors are pretty high. I did try my best to minimise them but some just go unnoticed. Anyhow, i hope you liked it.

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fanfiction #jake x mc #duskwood jake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x player #duskwood turmoils of you

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dangertoozmanykids101 · 1 year

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This is a MUST LISTEN!

I promise you. You're going to love this story! You think our little collaborative challenges are fun within the writing groups here on Tumblr? Well the story of Naked Came The Stranger is going to have you in stitches. You must listen to it. About 20min.

You will never even believe the trail of tangents that brought me to this story tonight so I won't even try to explain, but I am giddy with what a whopper of a tale I stumbled on.

In 1969 a number of reporters at the Newsday Headquarters collaborated to write the worst bestselling erotic novel that they could muster under the pseudonym of Penelope Ashe.

AND THEY DID IT! SUCCESS!

Trust me, you need to listen to this story. It has voice clips of a bunch of the people originally involved and their memories of this caper. It is such a fun listen. I PROMISE!! While you're driving to the grocery store or doing the dishes or driving to work, this is a fun listen. The producers rated this PG because there's nothing really untoward in it, but still probably NSFW, as a woman quotes a couple lines from the book in a breathy sultry voice like: "Together like garden snakes, they contorted, moaned, gasped, clenched and throbbed." Or how the man says something like "who knew there was more to think about on Saturdays than mowing the lawn." Or a line in a similar vein. I laughed so hard!

The tone of voice in those clips is more what would be NSFW, but there are just a few instances when they quote from the book. There's nothing else to really worry about.

Twenty-four reporters submitted chapters. Some submittals were too good! Some chapters had to be dumbed down and made more trashy, less eloquent - the talent had to be carefully extracted from the writing. The guys admitted that it took a lot of work to truly write something that was honestly badly written.

They didn't want 'good.' You can't submit that.

Give it a listen and let me know what you think. And don't miss - further down the page is a bonus audio of 1 min and 23 secs where the guys comment about the movie that was made of the book.

"Sex in suburbia... It isn't all it seems to be."

My favorite part of the story was about "Penelope Ashe, the demure Long Island housewife". A first time writer, she even went around the country promoting her first break-out novel. Radio and TV interviews.

"Attractive, smart (as in fashionable and intelligent) upper middle class housewife Penelope Ashe became a literary sensation in 1969 with the publication of her adult novel Naked Came the Stranger. Ashe was the perfect person to become a pop culture sensation – a wholesome, pretty brunette suburbanite wife, possessing a mind spinning with hot, sexy, forbidden fantasies. The prior year Glenn Campbell had the hit “The Dreams of the Everyday Housewife”, elaborating on the pathetic notion that once a woman gives up her freedom to become a housewife she has nothing left in life but to fantasize about what might have been;..."

"Virginity is like a Tiffany Lamp."

Omg, this is my new favorite quote! I'm going to use it all the time from now on - I'll slip it into everything I write!!!

“And what does that mean?” they will wonder.

“Well, if you don't know then you obviously haven't read my book.”

Oooo!!! I'll name my first story in the series Beckoned By Tiffany's Beacon. Set in a phallic shaped lighthouse where she lures sailors like a siren! GASP! Filled with heaps of cream colored cable knit sweaters!!!

No. No. Maybe Sex In The Lamp Light With Tiffany. Or An Illuminating Breakfast At Tiffany's. Or Tiffany Takes the Torch. Or “Light the Tapers,” said Tiffany.

Okay now I'm just getting silly and plain stupid - dead on loopy!!

There's no way we can allow this story to just sit here without going wild with inspiration, right? My mind is reeling with ideas, and I'm dying to research everything from that time period now. Or about that time period.

Did any of y'all watch the series Minx?

It was a great show! I hope someone else picks it up for season two. I want to watch it again now, as well as rewatch Boogie Nights. AND I want to rewatch Frost Nixon!!

Did you catch that they went on the David Frost Show??? "Would you now meet the authoress of Naked Came The Stranger, Penelope Ashe". and out walks ..... Damn it. I can't find the recording of the actual episode yet.

I will close to this post with one last nugget to hopefully tickle your fancy, or at least tickle your funny bone, and I pray it will kickstart some mojo for y'all. This is a delightful song written and performed by one of my all-time favorites, Tom Lehrer called Smut during a live performance in 1967. So this is only two years before the 1969 fiasco of Naked Came The Stranger. Very appropriate, don't you think? :-) He presents his song by first saying:

"Now I would like to say something about pornography or as we call it in the United States 'smut'. Wonderful word, yes. There have been many cases in the American courts recently about this very problem. The United States Supreme Court, for example, has decided that a book or a film can be banned if it arouses the prurient interests of the average person. Prurient now - and I look that up - it means having itching morbid or lewd and lascivious desires. Now surely that describes all of us here tonight. But I disagree with this principle because I really enjoy having my prurient interests aroused. And in fact there's only one thing I enjoy more than having them aroused and that is having them gratified. So, as I say, I'm opposed to this. But we have marches now for peace and marches for civil rights. So I thought I would have a march for smut."

youtube

Here's a handful of friends I think might get a kick out of this. Actually I think all of you might!! So pass it on!!! Because this is a fun one!

@messy-insomniac-bookgirl (remember how you were JUST talking about the crazy places rabbit holes can spit you out???)

@ladyoftheteaandblood @caffiend-queen @nildespirandum @emeraldrosequartz @latent-thoughts @just-the-hiddles @kind-of-crazy-butthatsokay @maiden-of-asgard @tilltheendwilliwrite @jtargaryen18 @myoxisbroken @imanuglywombat @redfoxwritesstuff @alexakeyloveloki @talklokitome @wolfsmom1 @nonsensicalobsessions @mastreworld @mooncat163 @shiningloki @gigglingtigger @lokisgoodgirl @xorpsbane @deceitfuldevout @boredbrooder @lokilickedme @texmexdarling @pedeka @searchforanotherway @peaches1958 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @christhickevans @sidepartskinnyjeans @spectre-posts @villainousshakespeare @fictive-sl0th @what-is-your-plan-today @ghotifishreads @saiyanprincessswanie @punemy-spotted @cockslutpadalecki @springdandelixn

#Youtube

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months

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Kickstarting “The Bezzle” audiobook, sequel to Red Team Blues

I'm heading to Berlin! On January 29, I'll be delivering Transmediale's Marshall McLuhan Lecture, and on January 30, I'll be at Otherland Books (tickets are limited! They'll have exclusive early access to the English edition of The Bezzle and the German edition of Red Team Blues!).

I'm kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to last year's Red Team Blues, featuring Marty Hench, a hard-charging, two-fisted forensic accountant who spent 40 years in Silicon Valley, busting every finance scam hatched by tech bros' feverish imaginations:

http://thebezzle.org

Marty Hench is a great character to write. His career in high-tech scambusting starts in the early 1980s with the first PCs and stretches all the way to the cryptocurrency era, the most target-rich environment for scamhunting tech has ever seen. Hench is the Zelig of tech scams, and I'm having so much fun using him to probe the seamy underbelly of the tech economy.

Enter The Bezzle, which will be published by Tor Books and Head of Zeus on Feb 20: this adventure finds Marty in the company of Scott Warms, one of the many bright technologists whose great startup was bought and destroyed by Yahoo! (yes, they really used that asinine exclamation mark). Scott is shackled to the Punctuation Factory by golden handcuffs, and he's determined to get fired without cause, so he can collect his shares and move onto the next thing.

That's how Scott and Marty find themselves on Catalina island, the redoubt of the Wrigley family, where bison roam the hills, yachts bob in the habor and fast food is banned. Scott invites Marty on a series of luxury vacations on Catalina, which end abruptly when they discover – and implode – a hamburger-related Ponzi scheme run by a real-estate millionaire who is destroying the personal finances of the Island's working-class townies out of sheer sadism.

Scott's victory is bittersweet: sure, he blew up the Ponzi scheme, but he's also made powerful enemies – the kinds of enemies who can pull strings with the notoriously corrupt LA County Sheriff's Deputies who are the only law on Catalina, and after taking a pair of felony plea deals, Scott gets the message and never visits Catalina Island again.

That could have been the end of it, but California's three-strikes law – since rescinded – means that when Scott picks up one more felony conviction for some drugs discovered during a traffic stop, he's facing life in prison.

That's where The Bezzle really gets into gear.

At its core, The Bezzle is a novel about the "shitty technology adoption curve": the idea that our worst technological schemes are sanded smooth on the bodies of prisoners, mental patients, kids and refugees before they work their way up the privilege gradient and are inflicted on all of us:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

America's prisons are vicious, brutal places, and technology has only made them worse. When Scott's prison swaps out in-person visits, the prison library, and phone calls for a "free" tablet that offers all these services as janky apps that cost ten times more than they would on the outside, the cruelty finds a business model.

Working inside and outside the prison Marty Hench and Scott Warms figure out the full nature of the scam that the captive audience of prisoners are involuntary beta-testers for, and they discover a sprawling web of real-estate fraud, tech scams, and offshore finance that is extracting fortunes from the hides of America's prisoners and their families. The criminals who run that kind of enterprise aren't shy about fighting for what they've got, and they're more than happy to cut some of LA County's notorious deputy gangs in for a cut in exchange for providing some kinetic support for the project.

The Bezzle is exactly the kind of book I was hoping I'd get to write when I kicked off the Hench series – one that decodes the scam economy, from music royalties to prison videoconferencing, real estate investment trusts to Big Four accounting firm bogus audits. It's both a fast-moving, two-fisted crime novel and a masterclass on how the rich and powerful get away with both literal and figurative murder.

It's getting a big push from both my publishers and I'll be touring western Canada and the US with it. The early reviews are spectacular. But despite all of this, I had to make my own audiobook for it, which I'm pre-selling on Kickstarter:

http://thebezzle.org

Why? Because Audible – Amazon's monopoly gatekeeper to the audiobook world, with more than 90% of the market – refuses to carry my work.

Audible uses Digital Rights Management to lock every audiobook they sell to their platform. Legally, only an Audible-authorized app can decrypt and play the audiobooks they sell you. Distributing a tool that removes Audible DRM is a felony under Section 1201 of the 1998 DMCA.

That means that if you break up with Audible – delete your Audible apps – you will lose your entire audiobook library. And the fact that you're Audible's hostage makes the writers you love into their hostages, too. Writers understand that if they leave the Audible platform, their audience will have to choose between following them, or losing all their audiobooks.

That's how Audible gets away with abusing its performers and writers, up to and including the $100m Audiblegate wage-theft scandal:

https://www.audiblegate.com/

Audible can steal $100m from its writers…and the writers still continue to sell on the platform, because leaving will cost them their audience.

This is canonical enshittification: lock in users, then screw suppliers. Lots of companies abuse DRM to do this, but none can hold a candle to Amazon, who understand that the DMCA is a copyright law that protects corporations at the expense of creators.

Under DMCA 1201 commercial distribution of a "circumvention device" carries a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine. That means that if I write a book, pay to have it recorded, and then sell it to you through Audible, I am criminally prohibited from giving you the tool to take it from Audible to another platform. Even though I hold the copyright to that work, I would face a harsher sentence than you would if you simply pirated the audiobook from some darknet site. Not only that: if you shoplifted the audiobook in CD form, you'd get a lighter sentence than I, the copyright holder, would receive for giving you a tool to unlock it from Amazon's platform! Hell, if you hijacked the truck that delivered the CD, you'd get off lighter than I would. This is a scam straight out of a Marty Hench novel.

This is batshit. I won't allow it. My books are licensed on the condition that they must not be sold with DRM. Which means that Audible won't sell my books, which means that my publishers are thoroughly disinterested in paying thousands of dollars to produce audiobooks of my titles. A book that isn't sold in the one store than accounts for 90% of all sales is unlikely to do well.

That's where you come in. Since 2020, I've used Kickstarter to pre-sell five of my audiobooks (I wrote nine books during lockdown!). All told, I've raised over $750,000 (gross! but still!) on these crowdfunders. More than 20,000 backers have pitched in! The last two of these books – The Internet Con and The Lost Cause – were national bestsellers.

This isn't just a way for me to pay off a lot of bills and put away something for retirement – it's proof that readers care about supporting writers and don't want to be locked in by a giant monopolist that depends on its drivers pissing in bottles to make quota.

It's a powerful message about the desire for something better than Amazon. It's part of the current that is driving the FTC to haul Amazon into court for being a monopolist, and also part of the inspiration for other authors to try treating Amazon as damage and routing around it, with spectacular results:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/dragonsteel/surprise-four-secret-novels-by-brandon-sanderson

And I'm doing it again. Last December, I went into Skyboat Media's studios where Gabrielle De Cuir directed @wilwheaton, who reprised his role as Marty Hench for the audiobook of The Bezzle. It came out amazing:

https://archive.org/details/bezzle-sample

Now I'm pre-selling this audiobook, as well as the ebook and hardcover for The Bezzle. I'm also offering bundles with the ebook and audiobook for Red Team Blues (naturally these are all DRM-free). You can get your books signed and personalized and shipped anywhere in the world, courtesy of Book Soup, and I've partnered with Libro.fm to deliver DRM-free audiobooks with an app for people who don't want to mess around with sideloading.

I've also got some spendy options for high rollers. There's three chances to name a character in the next Hench novel (Picks and Shovels, Feb 2025). There's also five chances to commission a Hench short story about your favorite tech scam, and get credited when the story is published.

The Kickstarter runs for the next three weeks, which should give me time to get the hardcopy books signed and shipped to arrive around the on-sale date. What's more, I've finally worked out all the post-Brexit kinks with shipping my UK publisher's books to EU backers. I'm working with Otherland Books to fulfill those EU orders, and it looks like I'm going to be able to sign a giant stack of those when I'm in Berlin later this month to give the annual Marshall McLuhan lecture at the Canadian embassy:

https://transmediale.de/en/2024/event/mcluhan-2024

Red Team Blues and its sequels are some of the most fun – and informative – work I've done in my quarter-century career. I love how they blend technical explanations of the scam economy with high-intensity technothrillers. That's the the same mix as my bestselling YA series Little Brother series – but these are firmly adult novels.

The Bezzle came out great. I hope you'll give it a try – and that you'll come out to see me in late February when I hit the road with the book! Here's that Kickstarter link again:

http://thebezzle.org

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/10/the-bezzle/#marty-hench

#pluralistic #kickstarter #audible #the bezzle #bezzles #prison tech #disciplinary technology #crowdfunding #wilw #wil wheaton #audiobooks #publishing #science fiction #marty hench #martin hench #red team blues #shitty technology adoption curve #reits

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birdylion · 2 years

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📓

(Put a book emoji in my inbox and I'll talk about the plot of a fanfiction I haven't written yet)

I think we're sharing Black Sails and Rivers of London as a fandom. As I don't have anything lined up for Black Sails, I'll talk about Rivers of London.

I have a crossover WIP with The Old Guard in which Peter becomes immortal. It started out as "who would win in a fight, Nightingale or The Old Guard?"

Spoiler - that fight is not going to happen in the fic. In the story, Peter doesn't survive the final confrontation with Chorley in Lies Sleeping. He falls to his death from the bell tower of St. Paul's, and wakes up in the morgue of the UCH.

I wanted Nile and Peter to meet, and I thought it plausible that Nile would be the one to extract him from the morgue. And this is why there won't be a fight between TOG and Nightingale. For that to happen, TOG would need to abduct Peter. Imagine the angst: Right after he was abducted once, he disappears for a second time. Beverley and Nightingale both come to the rescue like some kind of vengeance angels. But apart from being repetitive, I also think it's not likely to happen if Nile is the one to talk to him first. Because Nile knows how it feels like to be taken out of your usual life like this, and she would want to spare Peter the experience. And Peter's superpower is "talking to people and making friends", so he would definitely talk to her before she even tried to abduct him for real.

Peter would talk to her about the demimonde, about being the apprentice of an immortal wizard and the boyfriend of an immortal river, and a fight is just not in the cards. He would take her to the Folly, and with them the rest of The Old Guard, and there would be a new agreement.

Sure, there's the angsty potential for Peter to worry why he as a policeman became immortal through a mechanism that's just for soldiers dying on the battlefield, but I'd argue that's because of the vestigia of the metaphysical battlefield on which he was (and fought!) with Chorley and Old Bev. So by the end of the story, it wouldn't be too hard for him to come to terms with it, because it's not like he chose this battlefield, and he didn't compromise his ideals how the police should work. So he should be okay pretty quickly.

So I have to shift the focus of the story to the Old Guard, especially Nile. She's just had her entire life uprooted. She died and came back, fought a battle that wasn't exactly hers (but which she chose to make hers in order to help others), experienced the treason of one of her new family, supposedly the only people she will ever be able to be close to. She regularly experiences the drowning of another, and now just learned that her new mentor is dying and no, she can't go back to her family either, ever. This young woman who just went through all of that in a very short time (because I'd place the plot of TOG at the same time as Lies Sleeping) now meets someone who:

knows about immortality

knows different types of immortality

tells her about a whole world / subculture where being Different can be a good thing

can get her resources to deal with all the trauma, and that of the other Old Guard --> I'm thinking about Oberon here, who'd gladly take them under his wing

can show her a world in which just because she knows how to fight, it's not the only thing she can do

just shows her (and the other Old Guard) that they aren't as alone as they thought

I'd imagine that Andy, Nicky and Joe all know about magic, but never bothered to really get into the demimonde of the place in which they were staying, and hang out with neither wizards nor genii locorum, never stayed long enough to let themselves notice it more than in passing.

Anyway, my idea of "what if TOG and Nightingale fought" firmly evolved into "what if TOG got more support and perhaps art therapy?"

The story is written up to the point when Nile learns that Peter is a police officer. I have to switch POVs now because while I think I managed to write Peter's voice as it should be, it's incredibly hard for me to do so, I'm not a naturally humoristic or sarcastic writer. So 1. Nile's POV will fit better with where the story's going and 2. it will be indefinitely easier for me to write. Once I get back to it again.

#birdypersonal #a game is on #fanfic #my stuff #rivers of london #the old guard #rol x tog

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