#redline reviews

[largemouthbassnation]

Is an LS-Powered Subaru BRZ Better than a Corvette? - One Take

Save time, money and headaches at the dealership with CARZING! Find your car, line up financing, and do the paperwork at … source

[beyondthegate]

We hope you're excited - tomorrow's Redline review is ready and raring to go!

[lovelymona]

Fuck I just saw redline and LOVED IT!! I saw the English dub which was pretty solid I would love to check out the original VAs. I want what JP and cherry have like YEAAHHHH king be obsessed with me and shower me with kindness and attention!!

[h0neyfreak]

***

[imalloutofgin]

Long time, no see...

Hello friends, I have been watching things this whole time I promise! I have finally graduated from my masters degree and will hopefully post a lot more frequently... But I am considering moving to video form. What do the few of you that actually read these think? Anyways, here's some mini reviews!

American Psycho (2000): Absolutely amazing, very funny while also being harrowing. I cannot comprehend how so many misunderstood this brilliant satire. 5/5

A Simple Favour (2018): Very fun. I adore Anna Kendrick and Blake Lively in this. THE OUTFITS! Recommend for a relaxed watch. 3/5 stars.

The End of Evangelion (1997): I would love all this symbolism if it had any other meaning besides "Catholicism looks cool". Great imagery with nothing to say. 2.5/5 stars.

Redline (2009): Good, but too over the top for me to really love it. My girlfriend was a big fan though. 2/5 stars.

Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953): I was going to give this film 4/5 stars but I actually can't stop thinking about it and I've watched it twice through. Really fun, great quotes, Marilyn Monroe at her finest. 5/5 stars.

Lady Bird (2017): I sobbed like a baby. This affected me in ways I can't fully articulate. What a painful and accurate depiction of a strained mother and daughter relationship. 5/5 stars.

Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016): A fun romp, but nothing to write home about. 3/5 stars.

Oceans 8 (2018): Looking at my notes I've given it 2.5/5 stars but I don't remember it being *that bad*. Certainly nowhere near as good as Ocean's 11... I did have fun though. 2.5/5 stars.

The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (2023): The more I think about this movie, the more mad I get. The book slaps - it's about fascism and it says something about power. The movie is about a guy falling in love with his tribute and he's a bad guy, actually. 1/5 stars.

Talk To Me (2022): What an amazing Australian film! Great music, awesome concept, and Australian as fuck. I would have liked there to be a bit more of an intense tone shift to create more fear, but other than that, basically perfect. 4.5/5 stars.

I have more reviews coming, so stay tuned!

[yesterdanereviews]

Redline (2009)

Film review #605

Director: Takeshi Koike

SYNOPSIS: In the future, the most thrilling race in the galaxy is held every five years. racer JP manages to qualify for the race after other competitors drop out, and must risk his life in the ultimate race...

THOUGHTS/ANALYSIS: Redline is a 2009 animated sci-fi film. The film is set in the future, where the ultimate race in the galaxy has competitors fight to the finish line by any means necessary; risking their lives to achieve fame and riches. One of these racers is JP, who manages to qualify for the redline race, even though he crashed out of the previous race, since other racers withdrew because of the race taking place on Roboworld, where the the rulers will attempt to stop the race by any means necessary. The film starts off with the preliminary race and we immediately get the full force of the movie: high speed and explosion that never misses a beat. This is where the film's strengths really shine, as the animation is smooth, colourful, and detailed. The film is composed of over one hundred thousand hand-drawn frames, and is quite an feat to pull off, however it certainly seems worth the effort.

The weakness in the story comes in the middle part of the film, where there is no racing, and the film relies on character interaction and development. This isn't completely void of interest, but it does feel like the film is padding itself out a little before the big race, and there's no real impactful relationships between the characters. There's some hint of a past between JP and Sonoshi, another racer in the redline race, but it's never really resolved or impacts the story, which is odd. The romance element again doesn't feel earned between them. When the racing picks up again though, you're treated to an intense display of speed, action and well choreographed set pieces that will make you quickly forget all of that. The influence of futuristic video games such as Wipeout and F-Zero are also easy to spot, as the high speed, high stakes racing combined with the colourful and varied character designs such as you might see in F-Zero, add some real variety and visual appeal to the film, even if you're not really given much backstory to their characters or the universe in general.

Overall, Redline is at its best when is being a general assault on your senses: when it's fast, loud and violent, it's captivating and a thrill to watch. The set pieces, pacing, and scale again give the film an epic feel. The film does slow down a bit during the middle, and fails to really cement much character development or raise the stakes personally for them. None of that really matters much though, as the film shines where it needs to when the race is on and the action is high.

[ballingb-a-g-s]

This is as negative as any of my reviews are going to get any worse and IL just give it the stars

[lupincentral]

Oh my God it’s finally happening!

A brand-new work in the Lupin IIIRD spin-off series, tentatively titled Lupin the IIIRD THE MOVIE is coming to Japan in 2025. While not confirmed at time of writing, the film is also likely to be localised and released worldwide.

Directed by Takeshi Koike (of Redline and previous Lupin the IIIRD fame), the film is set to be feature-length and 2D animated, in line with previous entries.

While details are currently scarce, the teaser trailer (shown at the bottom of this article), mentions that Yūya Takahashi will be returning to write the screen play, and that James Shimoji is also back to handle the soundtrack. Katsuhito Ishii is also on board as a creative adviser. The teaser shows footage from the previous three spin-off films, some clips of the new one (which appears to be Zenigata focussed), and ends with a glimpse at a shaken and beaten-up figure, with the phrase “You don’t know the real Lupin III”.

The Lupin the IIIRD spin-off series first began in 2012, with The Woman Called Fujiko Mine. Labelled “hard and dangerous”, Fujiko Mine took the franchise in a vastly different direction from what fans were used to at the time, telling a darker story diving deep into the femme fatales past, and exploring her relationship with a slightly edgier Lupin, Jigen, and Goemon (and yes, it’s also the one where she has sex with Inspector Zenigata). While the fanbase was divided on this at the time, over the years, a deeper appreciation for the Fujiko Mine series has formed, and more recently, it was given the title of “anime of the decade” by website Fanbyte.

From there, the series continued in the form of three films - Jigen’s Gravestone, Goemon’s Bloodspray, and Fujiko’s Lie. Continuing the storyline and tone from the show, the films shone a spotlight onto each character in a way we had never seen up until that point, helping to create a gorgeous looking film trilogy that no Lupin fan should miss (you can read our review for each by clicking here, if it takes your fancy)! This latest entry appears to follow a similar trend, with Inspector Zenigata getting his time to shine - judging by the teaser and the images released today by Comic Natalie.

Takeshi Koike, who directed the films and acted as a character designer on the original Fujiko series, is a Japanese animator, illustrator and film director. He has previously worked on animated features such as Redline and Afro Samurai - with his first folly in the Lupin series being with the 2012 spin-off show, The Woman Called Fujiko Mine. It is great to see him back at the helm for a fourth film, and we cannot wait to see the see the direction things go - especially after the ending of Jigen's Gravestone, which saw the tease of the return of a fan favourite villain (who can be seen in this trailer, if you look carefully)!

More details are sure to be released on this upcoming film next year - stay tuned!

[trustmypoison]

Touch Me I'm Going to Scream

Seungcheol and Y/N have never been friends. Never, not even when they started training at their new jobs on the same day. They’re competitive and they love to correct each other’s work in a brutal fashion. That’s what keeps them at work late one Thursday night.

Pairing: Seungcheol x female reader

Genres: enemies to lovers, smut, office au

Word count: 5k

TW/CW: MDNI, this contains explicit smut and no mention of protection. If you have some claustrophobia, this one might not be for you.

Y/N hates Choi Seungcheol. That’s the only explanation for why her head feels like it’s about to burst. She hates him for how massive his ego is. She hates him for how smug he is everytime he can one-up her. And she hates how she can’t read his fucking handwriting. 

That’s the biggest thing right now. The report he’s slapped onto her keyboard is redlined brutally, but she can’t make out a single word of what he’s written in the margins. It’s like he does it on purpose when he’s assigned to proof-reading something for her. His handwriting is perfectly legible on a whiteboard when it’s his turn to lead team meetings.

He’s already plopping back into his chair to continue spinning his pen between his fingers. That’s what he was doing before Y/N had slapped the report draft on his desk thirty minutes ago. While he was bleeding all over this report, she was busy working on another one. For some reason, her workload was more than his this week, as it often is. 

Y/N throws the report back down on her desk tempermentally, glaring at him cross the double cubicle. “You could at least make it legible. I don’t know what the fuck any of this says, Seungcheol.”

“We’ve worked together for four years, Y/N. You should know how to read it by now,” he replies boredly, not even bothering to turn his chair to face her. But she can see the smirk in his profile. Ugh.

Y/N huffs, rubbing her tired eyes. Her makeup is long gone, save few for a few crusts of mascara. It’s nearly 10pm and the two reports that have been cycled between them are due tomorrow, along with a presentation. Which reminds her. She whips around to him. “The least you could do is start the slide deck. The finalized graphics are in the shared folder.”

“Slide deck is pretty much done,” he says, still sounding bored. “Just waiting on you to fix your wording so I can add it to the slides.”

Y/N resists the urge to bang her head against the keyboard. It would do as much good as trying to understand his handwriting. But she refuses to ask him for help. She only asks him to markup and review things for her because it’s part of his job description, same as hers. 

They’re both junior team leads for their department. The company’s structure attracted her initially when she accepted the role. Each department has a senior team lead, but this senior team lead is supposed to hand down assignments for the juniors to deliver. There are two of them because they believe in learning through collaboration here. 

She liked the idea until she met Seungcheol on her first day. His competitiveness killed any sense of teamwork. 

Y/N puts on her glasses and squints at the paper, making the edits that she believes make sense. She knows he’s not dumb, far from it. If he’s marked something up, that means it needs some attention. She just doesn’t always know what kind of attention, so she guesses. 

With some satisfaction, Y/N slaps the report fresh off the printer onto Seungcheol’s desk. She walks away before she smacks him when he grins, “So you can read.”

“But you can’t write. Work on that so I can bleed all over your report next time.” 

“But you’re so good at it. That’s why you get stuck with so many reports and I get stuck with all the slide decks and presentations.” 

The comment burns her up inside. She must not be so good at it if he bleeds all over the pages everytime she hands him something to review. And the slide decks and presenations are a sore spot for her. He’s far better at public speaking than she is, but everytime they step foot in the conference room, it looks like Seungcheol’s done all of the work. She doesn’t reply to him and she hears the pen click behind her. 

When he hands it back to her, there are only a few markups, and those have blessedly legible notes. Maybe he’s in a rush to get out of here. She makes the edits quickly and prints the copies for the meeting tomorrow. She’s done asking him to review it. It’s gone through three editing cyles and it will be never be perfect enough for him, but it’s nearly midnight now. She opens the slide deck as soon as he drops it into the shared folder, and a single flip through has her shrugging. Good enough. This is his part of the job anyway.

Without any announcement, they stand up at the same time, gathering their things. Despite their constant arguing, they do have a system and can read each other after four years. Y/N rushes to the elevator, pressing the button. Seungcheol strolls leisurely behind her. “Hot date or something?” He teases. 

“More like a hot bath,” Y/N huffs. “What the hell kind of date would start at midnight?” Seungcheol gives her a suggestive look and she scoffs. “I see. Go have fun with that.”

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. They step in and Seungcheol presses the button for the first floor lobby. The doors slide closed and Y/N is so tired that the little vibration of the elevator gliding down nearly puts her to sleep standing up, kind of like a car ride would. 

Until it lurches violently to a stop. Y/N grips the railing and curses, wide awake again. They’re on the 8th floor, not the first. And the doors don’t open. 

“What the fuck?” Seungcheol hisses, stabbing at the button for the first floor. When it does nothing, he stabs at the buttons for any other floor. He sighs, glancing over at Y/N. “Stairs it is.” He peels back the doors and… there’s a wall. They’re stuck somewhere between the 7th and 8th floor.

He’s cursing loudly now and Y/N has put her head in her hands. “Security should still be here,” he mumbles, stabbing at the alarm button a few times. The blaring is short and shrill and when he steps back they wait in silence. But Seungcheol’s impatient. Minutes pass and he periodically presses the button. Nothing.

Next, he presses the emergency call button. A dial tone rings in the small speaker on the panel. It rings, and rings, and rings. When they hear a robotic ‘Disconnected’, they both curse. Y/N pulls out her phone. Their swearing is becoming creative because neither of them have signal. 

“Might as well get comfortable,” Y/N sighs. Seungcheol doesn’t listen, repeatedly trying the alarm and call buttons. 

~

It’s nearly 1am and they’re both sitting on the floor of the elevator, facing each other with their legs stretched out. “This is your fault,” Y/N mutters in the silence. 

Seungcheol’s head snaps up from the metal wall, pinning her with a glare. “My fault? Write a good fucking report and we wouldn’t have been here all night.”

“The report was fine. What kept us here so late was you bleeding all over my pages,” Y/N said, monotone. This is an old argument and she can’t find the usual energy to give to it. Normally, she gets fired up as soon as he opens his mouth, but she’s exhaused.

Seungcheol scoffs. “As if you haven’t ripped apart my slide decks before.”

“That was deserved. You slapped some graphics on it that made no sense. And who leaves the background plain and white? Pick a fucking theme, there are hundreds to choose from,” Y/N finds herself heating, despite her tiredness. 

“I told you, it distracts from the graphics,” Seungcheol cries, standing up to pace the small space. He’s been a pacer since day one. It’s something he can’t help it when they argue.

“It’s lazy. Pick anything but white and move on. Or better yet, use the template the media departement constantly asks us to use,” Y/N is standing too now. She doesn’t like that he can hover over her. She still has to look up at him when she’s standing, but it’s better than the looming he can do if she’s still sitting down.

“Nothing is ever good enough for you,” Seungcheol hisses.

“It isn’t for you either,” Y/N bites, getting into his face to stab a finger into his chest. “How many red fucking pens have you gone through in four years? And then you turn around in the presentation that I gave you the content for and give me no credit.”

“What are you talking about?” Seungcheol raises his voice. “Your name is always right there next to mine. Get up and present it yourself tomorrow if you want all the credit so badly.”

“What? So you can ream me out later for how poorly I did? No thanks.”

He’s closing in on her, crowding her space, fuming. She backs up into the elevator wall only because she has nowhere else to go. But she’s not scared of him, never has been. She’s angry. 

“Try not to stutter in front of the entire board then,” Seungcheol shouts. “You’re supposed to be the fucking expert, so act like it and say literally anything with some confidence.”

“We’re both supposed to be experts, Seungcheol! We have the same title and job description. Yet I’m stuck with all the grunt work so you can waltz into the conference room, throw up a slide deck, and dazzle them with your charm.” She’s stabbing him in the chest again with her finger. 

“Then get some fucking charm, Y/N. Stop blaming me for that,” Seungcheol hisses, face close to hers. 

She glares back at him. “I hate you so much.”

The words seem to make his eyes harder. “The feeling’s mutual.” Then his lips are slamming into her. His hands find her hips roughly and Y/N’s hand find his tie, tugging hard. He folds to her height, hands groping fast. Her waist, her back, her breasts, her ass. His hands fly to the buttons of her shirt and she smacks them away, pushing him back hard. 

“Don’t you dare rip it,” Y/N scolds, her fingers loosening the top buttons. 

His fingers smack hers away this time and he’s quickly unbuttoning them down to her stomach.”You’re too slow,” he scolds back against her lips, hands tugging the material out of her skirt. 

When his hands land on her bare stomach, she hisses and wants to smack him at how satisfied he looks at the sound. “Don’t get cocky yet. I doubt you’ll be able to make me come.”

Something shifts in his eyes. He’s still angry, but he likes the challenge. “I’ll make you eat your words.” He spins her to face the metal wall, but her whole body isn’t there for long. His hands roughly tug out her hips, leaving her upper body against the cool metal. He’s shimmying up her tight skirt and she can barely adjust to the chill before a hard smack lands on one of her ass. A gasp flies out of her mouth and she hates how wet she is already. His hand gropes at the reddened spot, repeating the process a few times. He leans in close to her ear. “Still think I can’t do it?”

Y/N tastes blood from how hard she’s biting her tongue. “Yes,” she hisses. 

He releases a dark chuckle, and his hands are crawling across her body. He pushes her hair to the side, burying his face in her neck. The kisses and love bites are a distraction as he pulls her upperbody away to shove her bra up, roughly groping her breast and rolling her nipple between his fingers. She’s already keening when his other hand slides between her legs. He doesn’t hesitate to pull the string of the thong to the side and bury two fingers in her heat immediately. The intrusion makes her cry out and he’s chuckling into her neck again.

“For someone who hates me, you’re dripping, sweetheart,” he says patronizingly. 

“Still hate you, but your hands and mouth aren’t bad,” Y/N bites but it’s losing any strength she had before. His fingers are pumping fast and the fingers on her nipple have her mind scrambling. She struggles to keep her reactions under control because she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

He sucks on her neck, surely leaving a mark, but she doesn’t stop him because the feeling has her clenching on his fingers. “I offer more than my hands and mouth, but you’ll have to be a good girl and come on my fingers first before you can find out.”

Y/N wants to be strong. She’s determined not to let him have so much power of her body, but his hand slides from her breast to her neck, gripping lightly. She clenches hard at the touch and he’s kissing her cheek patronizingly. “Sweetheart, I had no idea you liked it like this. We could have been doing this for the last four years?” His fingers flex against her neck as the ones inside her curl, making her eyes roll back a bit. “All the late nights here over the years that I could have taken you on your desk after everyone left? Or have you on your knees for me? All the missed opportunities.” His lips find hers and it’s shockingly soft compared to what his hands are doing to her body. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Be a good girl and come all over my fingers.” 

She hates how everything about him makes her shake, orgasm slamming into her. He’s groaning into her ear, hand tightening around her throat. His fingers keep a brutal pace inside of her until she’s hurtling towards another orgasm before really recovering from the first one. It makes tears prick her eyes when she comes again and he sees them. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry just yet. You haven’t even had my cock yet.” 

He’s pulling away from her and she clings to the railing on unsteady legs. He grabs her hips, hands still rough as he turns her around. He lowers to his knees in front of her and her eyes widen. But she doesn’t have time to think about it because he’s yanking her thong down her legs, helping her out of it. Then he’s throwing one of her legs over his shoulders. “Seungcheol, what are you -“ Her question cuts off with a gasp as his tongue laps at her intently. She’s already so sensitive that it makes her whole body jerk. She grips the railing with one hand and and the other flies to his hair, gripping the locks hard. But she knows he’s doing most of the work holding her up. 

Three fingers are sliding into her and she can barely wrap her head around the stretch before he’s lapping at her clit. The intensity makes her climb fast, coming hard again. He doesn’t pull away and she realizes he’s going for another one. She yanks his head back hard by the hair. “No. Fuck me now.”

He’s smirking hard at the demand as he tosses her leg off his shoulder, standing up. When he kisses her and she can taste herself on him and it makes her clumsily reach for his belt, ripping it open. He lets her, still smirking against her lips. 

Y/N smirks at him instead when her hand wraps around his cock, because he’s gasping softly against her lips. “Sweetheart, for someone who hates me, you’re pretty hard.” The fire in his eyes is back when she throws his words back at him and Y/N is glad to see it. It means she’s getting under his skin just as much he gets under hers. “I thought you said you’d have me crying on your cock. Was that all talk?”

“You drive me insane,” he grates, voice deep and scratchy. His hands are roughly turning her again, pushing her to her previous position, upper body pressed against the cool metal wall and lower body pulled out, back arched. He kicks her legs apart and his cock presses into the plush of her ass. “You talk too fucking much.” He grips his cock, sliding the head of it into her folds repeatedly and it has her sighing. “Dripping like a faucet for some one you hate. Letting someone you hate make you come over and over. All but demanding for someone you hate to fuck you. Make up your mind, sweetheart. Do you really hate me?” The head of his cock notches into her opening and the stretch is teasing.

Y/N glares over her shoulder. “Yes. Now change my mind.”

He slams into her and she cries out loudly. He sits deep inside her and stays there. There’s something sweet about how his hand brushes back her hair and he kisses her cheek, like he’s letting her adjust for a second. But then he opens his mouth. “Beg for it.”

“No way,” Y/N spits in his face. “Your ego is way too big already.”

“We have all night, sweetheart,” he coos. “Security doesn’t show up until 6am. I can stand here all night inside of you if I have to.” His hand creeps up to her her breast, teasing lighly, refusing to give her any of the impact she craves. She squirms in his arms and he’s chuckling again, holding her still. “Come on, Y/N. I’ll give you exactly what you want, but all you have to do is say please.” He presses light kisses to her neck.

Y/N huffs. “Why do you always have to win? Why can’t you ever let me have what I want?” 

“I’m selfish when it comes to you,” he mutters into her ear. “You drive me up the wall. You’re so fucking beautfiul, but you open your mouth and tell me how much you hate me. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to resist you for the last four years?” He’s smirking against her skin because he can feel how she clenches at his words. “Maybe you do. I’ve seen how you squeeze your legs together sometimes and squirm in your seat when I come over to your desk. Tell me, were you wet all of those times, even when I didn’t touch you?”

He’s right and she can taste blood in her mouth again from biting her tongue. The smell of his cologne lingering behind her is enough any day. He keeps going, hand skating around to lay flat across her stomach. “It’s okay if it did. You make me rock hard at the most inconvenient times. I’ve thought about bending you over my desk at least a dozen times.” Another gentle press of his lips to her cheek. “Would you like that? Me pounding your cute little cunt?”

“I don’t know. Try it out and I’ll let you know,” Y/N bites. She feels his fingers flex against her stomach at the dare. “I won’t be begging until you make me.”

“Such a smart mouth,” he tsks. “Have it your way.” He slides out of her and her head falls back at the drag against her walls. Then he’s slamming back into her, the force making her bump back into the wall. His fingers crawl into her hair, tugging her head back. His pace is hard and fast and it has her seeing stars. There’s a bit of an ego boost for her in how he’s groaning into her ear loudly. “Fuck, can’t believe I waited this long. You feel so good, sweetheart.” The words have her clenching hard around him and he hums in her ear. “Like when I talk nicely to you? Not used to it?”

Y/N doesn’t really have an answer for him because she doesn’t know how to take anything he’s doing right now. The feeling of him hitting her cervix is overwhelming and the praise makes her chest warm. “You look sweet when you aren’t mouthing off to me. I'll give you whatever you want as long as you look like this. Just tell me.”

“More,” Y/N mumbles weakly. He doesn’t comment on how that’s dangerously close ot begging, but instead speeds up to a nearly impossible pace. It has her crying out, tears rushing out of her eyes. He cranks her head to face his again, gripping her throat tight. “Fingers.” This one is another plea disguised as a demand, and the hand on her stomach starts sliding down but she shakes her head rapidly, grabbing at the hand on her throat. She takes two of his fingers into her mouth and he’s groaning loudly now, curses echoing against the walls. His fingers press into her mouth roughly and she gags a bit, but it’s exactly what she needs to fall over the edge, coming harder than she ever has. Her mouth falls open and it makes the orgasm drag out even more that he doesn’t remove his fingers right away. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Can I come inside of you, sweetheart? Please?”

She’s coming again at his desparate tone, but not before saying ‘yes’ around his fingers. As abruptly as he started earlier, he halts deep inside of her, fingers popping out of her mouth to grip her shoulder and pressing his face into her neck with a broken moan. They stay like that for a long time, trying to catch their breath. When he finally pulls out, Y/N can’t help a whimper and he gives a soft apology. He gently turns her, redressing her with care. He guides the thong back up her legs into place, and flips her wrinkled skirt back down, doing his best to smooth out the material. Then his fingers deftly button her shirt back up, helping her tuck the edges back in. 

The gentle touches make her eyes leak again and she wipes them away, smoothing down her hair. He’s watching her with an expression that she doesn’t understand because she’s never seen it before. It unnerves her because this is the sobering moment that she realizes what they’ve just done. 

Rather than thinking about it, she reaches out to zip and button his pants, then buckling the belt back up. Then she’s smoothing down the wrinkles in his shirt and tie and straightening his hair up. He lets her. 

~

It’s 4am when they try the alarm and call buttons again. Just like before, there’s no response and they come to terms with the fact that they’ll have to wait until security comes in at 6am. So Seungcheol and Y/N sit next to each other against the metal wall, shoulders touching. She’s been dozing off against him when he speaks up, breaking the silence. “I don’t hate you.”

Y/N feels herself tense, slowly raising her head to look at him. He’s got his eyes closed. “You don’t?”

“No,” he sighs. “You seemed to hate me right off the bat when we started here. We were already fighting on our second day. I didn’t know what I did, and eventually it just made me mad. But I don’t hate you. I never did.”

Y/N smiles a little, looking away from him as she leans her head back to match his pose. “I don’t hate you either. You frustrate me to no end, particularly because of how our work is divided, but I don’t hate you.”

It sounds like Seungcheol starts to say something, but there’s suddenly yelling outside of the elevator shaft. A few minutes later, they’re stepping out of the elevator on the 7th floor to face a very apologetic technician. “My damn phone died,” he said lamely. “I hope you guys weren’t here for too long.” He seems to know the answer already, but Seungcheol and Y/N shrug and wish him a good night, or rather a good morning. 

They’re parked a couple spots from one another in the lot and Seungcheol simply tells her to get home safe. He waits for her to pull out onto the road before he backs out of his spot. 

~

9am comes early. Y/N rushes into the office to throw her stuff into her cubicle and grab the reports on the corner of her desk. Seungcheol’s computer is locked but still lit up, so he must already be here. She finds him in the conference room, schmoozing the execs that they’re presenting to today. No one really acknowledges her as she takes a seat off to the side, pulling out her notepad. 

Seungcheol glances at his watch during a lapse in conversation. “Let’s get started. I’m sure all of you have busy schedules.” 

Y/N glances at the slide deck that was built last night and a small change catches her eye. Report and content by Lee Y/N. Presentation by Choi Seungcheol. He’s making a joke about forgiving him if he looks a little tired because he spent half the night stuck in the elevator, but she barely hears the chuckles becaue she’s blinking back tears. He gave her credit.

Blessedly, the exec team has very few questions following the presentation and compliments her report while looking directly at her. Back at her desk, she falls into her chair, sighing. She’s squinting with tired eyes to read her email when a mug is placed in front of her. Seungcheol simply says, “A little cream and three sugars.” Her eyes follow him as he walks to his side of the double cubicle and sits down, logging into his computer. 

She wants to say something to him - about the change to the slide deck, or the fact that she didn’t know he knew how she took her coffee, or about last night in the elevator, but her phone rings and they’re being called into another meeting. Seungcheol makes sure she takes her coffee with her.

~

Seungcheol waits for her to gather her things right at 5pm. They pass by the elevator bay without a word and head to the stairwell. Somewhere around the 5th floor, Seungcheol turns to her. “Hot date tonight?” His tone is a little teasing.

Y/N scoffs. “Yeah, that hot bath that I didn’t get to have last night. My rushed shower this morning didn’t cut it.” Seungcheol chuckles. “What about you? Hot date tonight?”

“Not unless it’s with you.”

She nearly misses a step and his hand flies out to her waist to steady her. They’ve stopped somewhere between the 4th and 5th floor. “What?” He’s standing on the step below her and they’re basiclaly eye to eye. She’s perplexed when he looks a little sheepish.

“I would have asked you on our first day four years ago, but you were mean to me.”

She shoves at his shoulder and he barely moves. “You were mean first.”

Seungcheol laughs. “Maybe,” he admits, both hands holding her waist. “What do you think? Do you still hate me too much to go on a date with me right now?”

Y/N laughs too. “No, I think I might even like you a little bit now.”

[beyondthegate]

Our first review of the month is live! This week is all about Redline, the race that only takes place once every five years. Check out our review and let us know your own thoughts if you've seen this movie: http://shorturl.at/dpS26 Enjoy!

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 6) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings: language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, mature themes

Word Count: 3,635

A/N: That’s right, I broke the ending into another part which means another chapter is on the way. If you’ve been keeping up, I appreciate you sticking with me through my draughts and generally inconsistent posting schedule. Thank you again for every like, comment, and reblog. Please let me know what you think and enjoy ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

The week passed more quickly than you anticipated. You pulled an all-nighter to draft the language you promised. It helped that you couldn’t sleep anyways. You tried to make up for it on the twenty-hour flight from Brazil to Abu Dhabi but again, rest evaded you. It didn’t help that between the travel and the time difference you basically lost a day and a half. You threw yourself deeper into your work as a distraction. You were thankful that there were lots of back and forths of redlines, as expected.

But no matter how busy you kept yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about that damn kiss that had now been tattooed in your mind. You wished it wasn’t good. You wished he had chapped lips and tasted like onions. But it had enveloped you. The way he grabbed you and the feeling of his stubble on your face set off butterflies in your stomach and other places down south. You were pretty sure you saw through space and time and you suddenly had the ability to hear colors.

And even though the kiss was so good, it was made bittersweet by everything that was discussed afterwards. You didn’t miss the warmth leaving his eyes and his obvious disappointment. On one hand, you handled the situation the best way you knew how. You had been very clear in Mexico on the limits of your relationship, that should not have been a surprise to him. Your job was to be professional and you reestablished those boundaries. On the other, you had somehow removed every laugh line from his face. You missed the crinkles around his eyes and the reverberating bravado of his laugh. If there was another way you could have gone about the conversation, it was lost on you. Leaning into the kiss and those feelings surrounding it was legally impossible. He would simply have to pick up his bruised ego and move on, which you were sure wouldn’t be difficult. The thought helped you somewhat – he was still a handsome, charismatic celebrity who could get any girl he wanted. You were one piece of parsley in an endless buffet. Poor little rich boy couldn’t have the one dish he wanted right now, but as soon as the season was over and you went your separate ways, you would be a distant memory he would laugh at in retrospect. Amongst the models, actresses, singers, and influencers he could pick from, he had trauma bonded with his very average and nerdy lawyer during a particularly vulnerable point in his life.

As your thoughts meandered during the course of the long flight, you were appreciative that you would not be on your own this weekend. The partner apparently decided to show up in Abu Dhabi, finally making Daniel a priority knowing that the matter would be closing. You had gotten somewhat frustrated with Joe, that he kept cancelling on meetings last minute leaving you to deal with everything. There were several silver linings, however. First, you hoped it meant he trusted you with the significant responsibility, which again would likely lead to a positive performance review and a hefty bonus. It may even come in handy a few years from now when you would become eligible to make partner yourself. Second, in picking up that responsibility, you had grown a lot professionally in the last few months. Belgium felt like a lifetime ago, in more ways than one. In the last few restless days your mind kept reflecting back to that first race weekend when you were full of nerves, but lately you didn’t quite feel like the same young associate with a chip on her shoulder and something to prove. Third, for better or worse, you grew to know you client in a way you would not have been able to but for the partner’s absence and that transfer of duty. Because you knew him so well now, you were better able to represent him. This was, of course, a double-edged sword. You’d unintentionally gotten to know the driver far better than you intended. Over the course of months, he poked little holes in your armor leaving you open and vulnerable and inching you closer towards that delicate line you dared not cross. The two of you had danced around it for weeks. If you hadn’t crossed it before, kissing certainly pushed the two of you over the edge together. You wondered what he thought about all this, considering he had far less to lose from the predicament. It would probably be awkward the next time you saw each other, but hopefully still respectful and professional if nothing else.

-

Meanwhile, Daniel along with the rest of the grid arrived in Abu Dhabi a day early to have a retirement dinner party for Seb. Seb had been unexpected source of support during this uncertain time in his career. Not all of the drivers had reached out to him when news about his early termination with McLaren broke. Of those that did reach out, some were simply surface level exchanges lacking compassion and depth. Seb, however, had helped him navigate a slew of existential crisis. The least Daniel could do was return that support to his friend. He sat next to Lando and Pierre, the drivers chatting amongst themselves during the meal. Of course there was a general curiosity about his plans for next year, but he playfully remained tight-lipped. The conversation was light, reminiscing and debriefing on some of the post-race debauchery over the course of the season. It was all fun and games until Pierre brought up Halloween in Mexico and his failed attempts at bringing home an instragram influencer and a model that night.

“I think I might be losing my touch. But that was a fun night though, yeah?”

“It was, I’m surprised you remember most of it,” Daniel teased.

“Honestly, me too. That girl dressed as you, she was a good time.” Daniel did his best to remain casual, though his heart skipped at beat at your mention.

“Yeah, y/n is fun when she’s not working.”

“I’ve seen her around the paddock a few times. She’s your lawyer, right?” He took a long drink, not liking the direction the conversation was headed.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe when the season is over I can grab her number.” It was more of a statement than a question. Daniel feigned ignorance at the request and laughed.

“I mean I can give it to you, but she probably wouldn’t be able to help you.”

“How so?” Pierre looked at Daniel, both men visibly confused.

“I mean I’m no lawyer myself, but wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest for her?”

“Oh no dude, I don’t want her services – or, uh legal services I should say,” he said cheekily. Daniel’s ears immediately turned red, his jaw clenched, and hand balled into a fist. He did his best to control his facial muscles to not let on to the fact that Pierre had unknowingly stepped on an emotional landmine. Lando, who had been talking to Zhou across from him, sensed the shift in the driver sitting next to him. He diverted his attention for a moment to try to break the tension before Daniel could say or do something he would regret.

“Pierre, she’s way too smart for you and you’re not her type,” he said casually, earning a laugh from the others including Pierre.

“What are you talking about, I’m everybody’s type,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, I think that might be part of the problem,” Lando responded. “Plus, you’re already in a committed relationship with this one,” jabbing his thumb in the direction of Yuki. That side of the table continued to laugh and joke, Daniel included, but he didn’t miss the chance to lock eyes with his teammate to silently convey his thanks for discreetly deflecting the conversation away from the woman that had taken up so much space in his mind. Had he really almost punched his friend at a fancy restaurant during his mentor’s retirement party? He was in deep. Hook, line, and sinker.  

Daniel had bought himself more time extending the signing with Red Bull, but he had no idea what he was doing. You had made it abundantly clear that nothing could happen until after everything was signed. You also hadn’t explicitly said whether you wanted anything to happen afterwards... All he knew, whether or not anything progressed further between the two of you, he just needed to be near you. He needed more time with you, beyond Monday.

The evening continued with heartfelt sentiments exchanged, and Daniel found himself more and more in his feelings especially as the drinks flowed. He thought he recovered from Pierre’s comments at dinner, but then Seb gave a speech to the rest of grid that brought him to the brink of tears. His mentor’s goodbye made him reflect and contemplate his own journey over the year. Though neither driver would be on the grid next season, Daniel was envious that Seb had the opportunity to leave the sport on his own terms compared to the lack of agency he felt with his tenure with McLaren. Feeling unmoored, you showed up out of nowhere to turn his ship around at the eleventh hour. He wasn’t sure what was next for him, but he knew he couldn’t do it without you by his side. Maybe another drink would take his mind off you.

The night continued, one by one the other drivers called it a night. But Daniel stayed until the wee hours of the morning with some of the younger drivers who had higher tolerances. Lando took note of his teammate’s condition who refused to believe he couldn’t keep up. They hadn’t discussed the elephant in the room, but he could put two and two together even if he didn’t have all the details. You might have been discreet, but Daniel was anything but. He noticed how Daniel perked up just a little on the days you had meetings. He noticed the stupid looks you gave each other, each party oblivious to the other. He noticed all the times you went out with the drivers at Daniel’s invitation, which was surely not in your job description. And right now for whatever reason likely involving you, Daniel was miserable, his melancholia exasperated by alcohol.

“Hey mate, I think it’s time to go back to the hotel,” Lando said as he put an arm around Daniel.

“Nooo, but we’re having fun! For Seb!” Daniel slurred as he held up his drink triumphantly.

“We are having fun, but we have to get up really early. Remember?”

Daniel was too tired to fight back. So he pouted as Lando corralled him into the backseat of the car back to the hotel.

-

You rolled into Abu Dhabi at 2am. You were exhausted. You had no shame about rocking under eye patches and a face mask mid-flight to at least hopefully make it look like you’d gotten some type of rest over the last two days. Unfortunately, the dark circles that remained begged to differ.

You were in the middle of checking in when you heard commotion in the lobby behind you. You rolled your eyes at the drunks stumbling in, keeping your head down to avoid any interaction.

“That’s it, almost there mate.” You knew that voice. You slowly turned to find Lando struggling to guide a dazed Daniel towards the elevator. You rubbed your eyes and blinked a few times to make sure you were seeing clearly. That made you wake up.

“Lando? Daniel?”

Both drivers looked your way. You suddenly became very aware and self-conscious of your grungy airport outfit: messy bun, no makeup, and full Enchante sweatsuit Daniel had gifted you after Japan. You couldn’t decipher the look Lando gave you that was equal parts relieved and concerned, but Daniel’s face lit up immediately showing off those darn dimples.

“Y/n!”

“Hi. What are you guys doing?” you asked hesitantly. It was mostly directed at Lando since he still had his wits about him, but Daniel answered anyways.  

“We had to say goodbye to Seb,” he said solemnly. Lando rolled his eyes seeing the immediate look of concern and confusion on your face.

“Jesus Christ. The guy’s retiring, he didn’t die.”

You gave a polite smile. “I’m sorry, I think I’m missing something.”

“The whole grid had a retirement party for Seb, not a funeral as this one might have you believe. It started with dinner but some guys stayed out and well… he’s just been slightly overserved.” You pursed your lips together to keep from laughing. You could tell Lando’s patience had run thin, but despite his annoyance he had made sure Daniel got back safe which you appreciated.

“Well, thank you for taking care of my client.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m fine,” Daniel slurred a few feet away, leaning against a pillar in the opulent lobby – immediately followed by him almost slipping but quickly catching himself. He smiled again, proud and satisfied with his own rescue effort.

“Right…” you drawled. You turned to the concierge who had been patient and stoic as the scene unfolded. You’d been informed that the hotel catered to Westerners, but you were still cautious being in a country that technically followed Sharia law despite the many exceptions for expats and tourists. “My apologies ma’am, is it ok if I help escort my friend to his room for a moment? I can finish checking in afterwards.”

“Of course Miss l/n. I’ll still be here.” Having the green light to accompany the two boys, you and Lando flanked Daniel linking your arms through his to walk him to the elevator.

“I don’t need help,” *hiccup* “I’m a strong, independent woman,” he said, though he did nothing to resist your assistance.

“You are maybe half of those things,” you retorted.

“That’s being generous, I give him zero out of three,” Lando chimed in.

“Oh be nice, you know you can feel those muscles,” you lightly countered as you gave Daniel’s bicep a quick squeeze. You gave him a tired, playful smile and the look he returned you was so full of adoration it felt like your heart was going to burst at the seams. He leaned his head on your shoulder when you stepped in the elevator and you wished you could put the moment on pause to keep him there a while longer.

“You can’t possibly be referring to these chicken wings,” Lando replied. “Do you have your room key?” Lando asked Daniel, breaking your daze. Daniel shuffled for a second, patting his pockets, then nodding in confirmation. “Good, I’m going to bed.” He pressed the floor for himself, then Daniel’s.

“I’m sorry, what?” Lando gave you a knowing smile.

“I already did 90% of the heavy lifting, I’m sure you can handle it from here.” You shot daggers his way, Daniel still between the two of you, blissfully unaware of your quarrel. “See you in seven hours,” he said as he got off the elevator.

You sighed as the elevator doors closed, leaving the two of you alone. Daniel was too drunk to feel awkward about the predicament given how you last left things, a lazy smile still on his face.    

“You called me your friend. To the concierge.”

“I did.”

“I thought I was your client.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He hummed in response. The answer seemed to make him happy. His eyes grazed over you, his smile growing.  

“You’re wearing my clothes.”

“An astute observation.”

“They look good on you.” The elevator doors opened as a blush crept to your face. You guided him into the hallway and ignored his comment.

“Ok, what number are you?”

“This way,” he said, ignoring your question and yanking you to the right. You kept your arm around him to steady his swaying. You could smell the alcohol coming off him, making you wonder about the events leading up to this but whatever it was wasn’t a conversation for today. He finally stopped in front of a door and fumbled with his pockets. You waited to make sure he could get into his room, but after a minute or two you got concerned.

“I can go back to the concierge to get another key-”

“No, no, I got it.” You watched as he fished it out from the depths of his front pocket, then struggled with getting it to work on the fob.

“Here, let me help you.” Your own patience running low, you took the key from his hands and opened the door. You had planned on finishing your check-in when you knew he made it inside, but felt bad leaving him in the condition he was in. You reasoned that it was to help him avoid a hangover in the morning so that he would be as camera ready as possible for press day, but it was a loose excuse.

You cautiously entered his room and turned on some lights. Your jaw dropped for a moment – his room was at least triple the size of every other hotel room you had stayed at over the course of the season, every detail pristine. You held the door open for him as you ogled in the foyer. He pinballed off the door frame to make his way inside, leaning against the wall across from you. He openly took you in, admiring how his merch hung from your body more perfectly than he ever could have imagined. He didn’t turn away when you returned his gaze.

“Come on let’s get you tucked in, you have a long day tomorrow – or in six and a half hours.” You grabbed his arm again and brought him towards the bed, and he happily followed you like a puppy. You were relieved he was at least cooperating. You sat him down. “Ok sir, where do you keep your pajamas?” He gave you a wicked grin.

“I don’t wear any,” he said shamelessly. You pursed your lips, you knew you walked into that one.

“Of course you don’t. Well when I leave you can get undressed. Just sit tight for a sec.” You opened up the bottle of water by the coffee maker and poured it into a glass. “Here, drink this.” He guzzled the water, so you poured him another. “Good job. How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re here.” He showed off his pearly whites with a giant smile, closing his eyes as his head flopped back.

Oh my God, you’re so drunk, you said under your breath. “I’m serious, do you feel nauseous at all? Headache?”

“I’m peachy,” he said as he swung his legs back and forth off the bed. He played with his hands in his lap. Seemingly able to entertain himself at least for a minute, you walked into the bathroom to go through his toiletries to find some Advil and maybe some tums for the morning. When you returned, your patient was already taking off his shirt and had started undoing his belt.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down there tiger. Why don’t you take two Advil first?”

“I’ll do anything you tell me,” he said before swallowing the pills you handed him. “I’m going to miss you when you leave.” His sudden shift in tone threw you off. You sat down next to him to show your support and solidarity.

“You know you can always call me. It will be like I never left.”

“As a friend?” he asked hopefully. You smiled and put a reassuring hand on his thigh.

“Yes, definitely as a friend.” There was a pause.

“What about as more than a friend?” *hiccup* “Like, afterwards?” You bit your lip, but smiled.

“I think that’s a conversation for another time.”

“You didn’t say no.” You laughed.

“You’re drunk as a skunk and this is the moment you choose to dissect semantics.” He picked up your hand resting on his thigh, bringing it to his lips to kiss without breaking eye contact.

“Enchante.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, but it sure is charming as heck,” you said between laughs. You pulled your hand back and stood up. “On that note, I think you have everything you need so I’m going to head out. You have two more ibuprofen on your nightstand for the morning and two tums in case you get heartburn or an upset stomach. I set your alarm for 8:00 so you can sleep in a little, but still gives you an hour to get ready before you need to head to the paddock. I think it’s ok if you’re fashionably late.” He pouted. “Oh come on now, no need to frown. You get to take off those pants and go to bed. I’m going to go to bed too.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay?” He gave the best puppy eyes he could. Matched with his bare torso, six pack on full display, and unbuttoned belt and pants, anyone with a weaker constitution would’ve folded immediately. But at this point you were a trained soldier, the end of your internal battle in sight. You did make one concession though.

Maybe it was impulse. Maybe it was the jet lag. Maybe it was the possibility he wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning. But in a streak of boldness, you brought your hand to the side of his face, feeling the sharpness of his jawline and the texture of his stubble. You bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe next time,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over his.

His eyes were flying saucers when you stood. “Good night, Daniel. Get some rest.”

Despite how tired he was, it was hard for him to fall asleep after that.

Taglist: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

[contemplatingoutlander]

This is the first time I've clearly seen the actual revisions a state education department (Virginia) is making to a high school elective course on African American history (which focuses on that history in Virginia) because of a GOP governor's (i.e. Glenn Youngkin's) executive order prohibiting “inherently divisive concepts” from public schools.

This is a link to an archived article, so anyone can read the entire article. Below are some charts in the article that show the recommended revisions:

It is clear from the above chart that the reviewers want any mention of systemic racism and White privilege to be eliminated from the course, even though there is clear evidence that both exist.

It is also deeply concerning that any discussion of "implicit bias and stereotypes" is banned, even though those of us in the social sciences know that implicit bias and stereotyping exist. To prevent high school students from learning about these concepts is a blatant attempt to keep them ignorant.

Again, based on the chart above, the proposed revisions have done away with any discussion of the ubiquitous nature of racism or the fact that systemic racism exists. Instead the proposed revisions focus on (presumably overt) "discriminatory practices," while ignoring the subtle ways that racism has affected the Black population over the years, including the way it affected returning WWII Black veterans.

[See more under the cut.]

Furthermore, according to the proposed revisions, the term "White supremacist" cannot even be used. I wonder how the reviewers expect teachers to be able to describe the ideology of members of the KKK?

The reviewers also apparently want to pretend the University of Virginia wasn't involved with the Eugenics movement, since they took out a reference to it. In addition, the proposed revisions wouldn't allow the Eugenics movement to be called a "pseudo science." Are teachers supposed to claim it was "science"?

The reviewers also apparently want to forbid a discussion of how Eugenics was used in Virginia "to control African Americans," which indeed it reportedly was.

Furthermore, the recommended revisions falsely assume that redlining no longer exists, and that historical redlining no longer has an impact. Although it is not as overt as it once was, redlining does still exist in various forms and the impact of older redlining practices still have negative affects on Black populations.

From what I can tell, the proposed revisions have NOTHING to do with trying to stop students from feeling "uncomfortable" in classrooms. Discomfort naturally occurs for all of us when we learn about things that go against what we previously believed. But that is how people learn and grow.

And if the GOP wanted to stop "liberal" teachers from "indoctrinating" their students into "left-wing ideas," they would simply have legislated the presentation of two sides of an argument, AS LONG AS both sides were factually-based and rational. (For instance, there is NO factual or rational argument that the Holocaust didn't happen or wasn't as destructive as it was).

But the GOP politicians want to BAN the discussion of any view of history and society, however factually and rationally based, that goes against their whitewashed ideas of how history should be presented. In other words, the GOP wants schools to indoctrinate students into a right-wing way of viewing history and society that favors Whites.

This is incredibly regressive, and reminiscent of the United Daughters of the Confederacy's attempts to ensure "The Lost Cause" mythology was taught in schools.

[hoursofreading]

I BOUGHT A SWEET TEA at a downtown lunch spot and reviewed the notes for my talk. Before I arrived at the conference, I had decided to discuss bias in algorithms. The essence of my argument was this: In 2019, shortly after I finished graduate school, I worked for a company that made a real estate chatbot called Brenda. Brenda answered questions about apartment listings and booked prospective tenants for tours. My job was to supervise Brenda’s conversations as an “operator,” and if she went off script, which she often did, I took over until she regained her bearings. Over thousands of conversations with strangers, I began to suspect that Brenda’s diction — and the very fact of her texting interface — was most palatable to the young, affluent, and white. I feared this had real effects on which people booked tours, and which people were so put off by the experience of speaking to Brenda they looked for housing elsewhere. Was this not redlining by algorithm? The peculiar mental burden of the job was that I was made to live in parallel but opposite realities. On the one hand, our Slack channels were filled with messages from developers claiming righteous intentions. Brenda was making the rental process accessible, democratic, quick as a text. And yet every night I watched how this bot, with her blameless, chirpy affect, was an instrument of isolation, a digital bully that landlords used to create distance between themselves and their tenants. Though she hadn’t crossed my mind for some time, I remembered Ella, a woman who messaged Brenda so often I came to recognize her on my shifts. Ella spoke only Spanish. Brenda did not, and neither did most of the chatbot operators, so we corresponded with Ella by copying and pasting Spanish phrases from a Google Doc we had compiled on our own time. Ella was a tenant at one of Brenda’s properties. Ella’s messages were urgent and anguished. She spoke of violencia and God. Her situation was unclear. She sent video clips of her walls and ceilings, which came through as still images without sound. We were fairly certain Ella was trying to report domestic violence in the apartment next door. We told Ella that if she or someone else was in danger she should call 911. Ella did not call 911; it was possible she was afraid to engage the police. We told Ella to call building management, but the management’s only phone number rerouted to Brenda, the chatbot who handled rental inquiries. Ella, I should note, was not the woman’s name. She offered us her real name several times, which we manually added to her file. But Brenda, ever keen, kept spotting the feminine singular pronoun ella — a more suitable name by Brenda’s logic, more like the names she had seen before — and entering it into the name field, obliterating whatever had been there. “Como te llamas?” we would ask. “¡Ya te dije!” she would say. The woman’s true name was finally lost.

An Age of Hyperabundance | Issue 47 | n+1 | Laura Preston

[capricorncorvette]

Cars Horse AU - Cars 2 horses and breeds - explaining my shizz

In another post of mine i explained what horse breeds the main characters from Cars (Lightning, Doc, Mater, etc.) will be, so now lets move on to the 2nd movie.

Tbh i fw Cars 2. Is so fucking awesome, idc what anyone says and i have no idea what is up with the hate. Lemme tell something funny: have you seen the burning hate on Cars 2, how the whole internet bashes it? ALL of that combined is my hate for Cars 3. I hate Cars 3 so freaking much, my hate for it increases every time i think about it, but i'll review it later. For now lets move on to our horseified - Cars cast!

Finn McMissile

Finn is a white dapple perceron. In Cars 2's horse au, CHROME (the spy company Finn and Holly work for) is a conpany too, except its led by all kinds of animals, not just equine animals like horses and ponies. Finn works at CHROME too as a spy horse who has been sent after Professor Zundapp, because of his plan that has to do with a camera. Finn is a very well taken care of, professional and careful spy horse. He is equipped with similar weapons as in the movie (still trying to figure out his guns tho :'D)

Holly Shiftwell

Holly is a young Hannoverian mare that has been working at CHROME for a few weeks, with the goal to become a spy horse. She works with Finn throughout the AU - He supports her and kind of guides her trough the missions. Holly is ambitious, she's a fast runner and works mostly with technic.

Professor Zundapp

Professor Zundapp is a dark grey shetland and was long believed to be the leader of the lemons. He is originally from Germany.

Francesco Bernoulli

Francesco is an ambitious, competitive Maremmano horse who originates from Porto Corsa in Italy. He is a very competitive racehorse and teases McQueen most of the time during the World Grand Prix. His owners put a lot of pressure on him since he's very famous in Italy, and thus doesnt want to lose out of fear for being abandoned. Later Lightning and Francesco become friends. Francesco speaks with a heavily Italian accent and when he's very angry, he'll yell in just Italian.

Siddeley

Siddeley is a huge Belgian draft horse that works with Finn trough CHROME.

Miles Axlerod

Miles Axlerod has organized the world grand prix with his alternative idea of bitless tack. He is the head of the lemons in secret, and the owner of a busted hoof iron that Rod Redline managed to get a picture of that he give to Mater in the stables last minute.

Further things about the Cars 2 part of the au: the lemons.

The lemons are animals. How theyre broken down cars in the movie, in this AU they are animals from all kinds of species that have been abused, kicked out of herds or groups, thrown away, or they are just strays that seek revenge, but also want to ruin the lives of animals that in this AU do have a good life: the racehorses. How? Like this:

Allinol: Cars use alternative fuel, so the horses use alternative tack.

So i came up with this idea: there are 2 ways you can ride a horse: with a bit and without a bit. You can ride with a saddle and without a saddle too, on any horse. In this AU, bits and tack are the norm; Lightning has raced with bits all his life, Mater and the Radiator Springs horses are ridden in hackamores (bits) and western saddles. Well, Miles Axlerod came up with a 'better' way: a race where horses from all over race in bitless bridles and bareback pads instead of racing saddles and bitted bridles. The blowing up part i'm still thinking out, but i have thought out the part where "Mater is the bomb."

When he traveled back, Mater wore a saddle pad with bags for his stuff. When he gets captured with Finn and Holly, he is given a new saddle pad with a bomb hidden in it strapped around his back with a metal girth. When activated the bomb starts ticking time off, and when deactivated, the bomb will turn off and the girth will pop loose. The only thing i have to do is give it some colors cuz i have the idea >>

Hope you like it :)

[jellybracelet]

After six months of being blocked by someone, I believe there should be a process by which the Blocked can submit a plea to the Blocker to, in good faith, argue for their unblocking.

The Blocked should submit letters from up to three mutuals-in-common certifying the Blocked's good character.

At the time of the Unblock Request Form submission, there can be an option to pull up old, problematic or annoying posts for the Blocked to make redlined corrections for how they would post them if they were created in present day.

After the Blocker reviews the submission, they can choose to

a) throw out the request and maintain the block.

b) offer their own counter-evidence to the Blocked's claim of good character—after this is submitted and reviewed by the Blocked, the Blocked can either surrender and sacrifice their request OR begin the process again with amended claims and recommendation letters from new mutuals-in-common. A counter can only be initiated once. If a resolution is not decided after the Blocked's second submitted claim, the request is thrown out.

c) accept the request and unblock the previously Blocked.

If the Blocker chooses to unblock, there is a firm, one month no-block period where the (ex-)Blocker is prohibited from attempting to re-block the previously blocked user. After one month, they are free to block again.

A re-blocked user must wait a minimum of 365 days before submitting another claim to the same Blocker.

Users who feel they are being constantly pestered by an individual blocked user can submit a claim to Tumblr Support to have the Unblock Request Form permanently deactivated for that blocked user.

[ninja-muse]

This month's last-minute review is brought to you by something of a reading slump. I've read a fair number of good books this month, if you look at the ratings I've given them, but no books that I've gotten excited about, that I've felt were unexpectedly good enough that I had to talk about it.

Until now.

Lovecraft Country was my first Matt Ruff, and it's not going to be the last. It's well-written, with strong characters and good humour, and a really interesting structure. It's a smart book, and feels very grounded and real. Is it an astounding book? No, but it does its thing very well and I enjoyed reading it more than I thought I would.

Let's start with the structure, because that's one of the things that impressed me most. It's a novel-of-stories, with each chapter being a different character on their own adventure, but there's still a narrative arc for the book, clues the characters gather and the readers pick up on, and nastiness that builds and builds until the final showdown. It's a tough structure to pull off, but Ruff's done it.

I also liked that the structure lent itself very well to a sort of puzzle-box story. You get all these clues and hints about what's truly going on, even if you don't realize that till later, and even though you kind of know where the book is going, watching everything slowly slot into place and trying to put everything together before the characters do is a good part of the fun. It's a lot like watching good SFnal TV, which Ruff's author's note says this was meant to be; you get invested in the characters and the individual "episodes", but there's meaning in that key, that comic book, that thing in the forest. Surely there must be, but how?

And the characters! I loved all the point-of-view characters—they're smart, opinionated, complicated, aware of the forces acting against them and doing what they can to avoid them. I was scared for them, I wanted them to succeed, all that good stuff. The white people are also believably drawn, in that they're self-important, greedy, and used to power, but also, when the story allows for us to see it, sympathetic and complicated all the same.

It's hard to say whether this is science fiction or fantasy, but it's definitely in that wheelhouse rather than being a straight-up historical novel. There are ghosts and monsters and grimoires and secret dimensions and a lot of other stuff you might expect to find in a book that's influenced by pulp fiction and early sci-fi and horror. But, as with a lot of genre work that tackles such things these days, Ruff has fun with this stuff while also adding a social twist to them. In this case, having a Black cast allows Ruff to illuminate and comment on the racism inherit to the 1950s. There's humour to it, but in a way that helps the points hit home.

And that brings me to the last thing I need to mention: that this is a book about Black people written by a white man. It's also written primarily for white people, as far as I can tell, because while the characters take redlining and sundown towns for granted, Ruff doesn't assume that his readers will even know what those are or, if they do, be aware how they actually impact people. However, Ruff's also done his research and tackled the subject thoughtfully. The characters don't conform to stereotypes but are definitely informed by their pasts. The stuff they face goes beyond the usual talking points of Black History For White People; there's mention of boycotts of racist businesses, the Tulsa race massacre, the intricacies of buying real estate while Black, the difficulties of loving science fiction when everyone who writes it hates you. And of course he acknowledges that dealing with racist BS on a daily basis and constantly being underestimated puts you at an advantage when there's some really massive BS going down. I thought Ruff handled it all very well, without being heavy-handed or going into anything that he couldn't do justice. (Well, maybe Ruby's story. I need to think about that one more.)

So yeah, I was surprised by this book on a few fronts, and I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. The humour and love of SF tropes, balanced with the antiracism and social commentary, was right up my alley, and the way Ruff told the story was the cherry on top. Like I said, it's not an amazing book—it might have pushed the boundaries of speculative fiction when it came out but it certainly doesn't now—but it entertains and enlightens and does so cleverly. This won't be my last Matt Ruff, like I said above, but I'm also not likely to pick up another one for a while. Maybe in a year or two when I get a hankering for the sort of stuff he does.