#the law of web novels

[vibeless15]

Nori Kibe

Some of my favorite AI artwork done for Nori Kibe, the main character of Coded Law.

[the-sun-and-the-craftsman]

The Sun and the Craftsman - Chapter 3

Content warnings for this chapter are at the bottom and tagged!

For more info, read the pinned post here.

The circle's drawn. One of the threads from Darius’ coat sits inside it, cradled by the dark powder that constitutes it. Ashur stands outside of the circle, balancing a tongue of flame on the tip of his finger. And Darius shakes so bad he can barely see straight. 

“What’s wrong?” Ashur asks. “You want to go home, don’t you? Marco told me you’d probably be the most excited.” 

“Marco knows shit,” Darius grunts, feeling as if he can’t get the words out fast enough. The powder around him smells metallic, like blood, and he suppresses a cough on the dusty air. 

Ashur cocks a brow and waves out the fire on his fingertip. “So. Tell me what’s going on.” 

Darius doesn’t want to go spilling his entire life story to Ashur of all people—he knows the kinds of sadistic things this being’s capable of, acts so unthinkable that it could unwittingly drive him back to his self-made prison deep within the recesses of his own mind. But right now, there doesn’t seem to be a thought in Ashur’s head—seems as if they all slipped out through that gold-sheened, crusted-over wound. Though Darius still suspects that Ashur’s memory isn’t as gone as everyone else had assumed, after some waiting, he finds that he has little choice but to speak. 

“When I first came to this world, I was running away from something,” he says slowly, picking each word carefully. “If I go back to that same place and time, I’ll be...” 

Caught? Imprisoned? Killed? Ashur’s waiting for him to finish, but Darius can’t find a good word. 

“Something bad will happen?” Ashur asks. 

“Yeah,” Darius says. 

Ashur lets out a long sigh. “I’ll be right back,” he says, and he heads over to one of the wooden walls, looking up at the drawers spanning floor to ceiling. Then, he places one hand around his other arm and pulls. His arm elongates, which has a sickening sound to it, a sort of crinkly, organic sound. And as he stretches that limb out, his hand hits the floor, followed by the coils of his arm. 

Darius looks away, putting one hand over his mouth as his stomach tightens. 

Eventually, he hears a drawer open far above them, then he hears it close. He hears Ashur shift his form again, grimacing as he imagines the muscles and skin folding in on themselves. Finally, Ashur’s bare feet thunk against the floor as he returns. 

“Take this.” 

Darius looks at Ashur. He’s holding out a small, flat rock to him—dull and gray and about the size of his palm. Darius reaches out and takes it, examining it. 

There’s a magic circle in it—more of an oval, actually. Within the oval, the light, crudely-carved lines form a circle with rays emanating out from it, flanked on either side by feathered wings. 

“If things don’t turn out the way you hope over there, you can use this to return here,” Ashur explains. “Just touch any form of fire to that, and you’ll be swept back here, just like how this circle’s gonna bring you back home.” 

Darius runs his fingers over the lines in the stone. “Just one problem,” he sighs. “I don’t have a way to start a fire on me. I swear, when I put myself in my box, I had my gun, and my matches, and my flint. Where’d it all go?” 

“Oh,” Ashur says. “I can get you some. Just don’t move. Please don’t mess up the circle, I don’t want to have to work on it anymore.” 

With that, Ashur carefully traces around the edges of the circle and leaves the room. 

Darius stands there for a moment, his heart pounding, the back of his neck cold as if it’s wet. He grasps the stone in his hand, squeezing it with all his might. Now that he’s been out of his box for an hour or two, the pain of living’s starting to come back—the ache in his chest when his heart pounds too hard, the growing hunger in his sunken belly, the dull pain in his limbs from lack of food and water and sleep and...pretty much everything. He doesn’t know whether or not he had managed to take care of his basic needs while he was in his box, nor any idea how he’s survived if he hadn’t. Was he just walking around like a mindless automaton, doing everything that life in this world demands without any thought behind it...? 

Ashur comes back with a box of matches. He hands them to Darius, and as Darius grabs the box and looks it over, he realizes that...it’s his. It’s his own small, cardboard box, cream-colored with blue lettering, and tilting it in one hand, it has about the same about of matches rolling around inside as he remembered leaving it with. 

“You took them?” he asks, glancing up at Ashur. 

“I did,” Ashur says, once again conjuring a flickering flame at the end of his finger. 

Darius balks once again—if Ashur remembers taking those matches from him, then on some level, Ashur remembers him. Which means that he must’ve been faking his memory loss. Which means that this is all probably a trick. 

Ashur drops down and touches the flame to the edge of the circle. Darius’ heart leaps into his throat—sputtering, he lunges forward, trying to avoid Ashur’s spell, but it’s over in an instant. He doesn’t land on the wooden floor, but instead in a marshy wetland, rain pounding down around him. 

He props himself on his hands, watching the mud between his fingers rise around them. Tree leaves rustle above him as the wind blows harshly through the forest. Thick, stinging drops of rain pelt his back and his scalp. In the distance, he can hear dogs barking. 

It’s as if everything that had happened over the last few years had been nothing—nothing but a fever dream after slamming his head against one of the low-hanging branches in this soaking hellhole. Darius is on Earth again, just beside the Mississippi River, running for his life from a group of locals that, hell, might’ve even been some of his customers before he had done what he did. He is no longer a victim, but a perpetrator. And if he wants any semblance of a peaceful life, or even a life at all, he has to get away. 

His shoes skid against the mud as he pushes himself up into a run, leaning into long strides with no control over where they land. His blood roars in his head and his throat feels dry despite the thick, humid air settling heavily around him. His fist clenches tightly around the rock in his hand, knowing it could be his only way out of this—but with the matches in his other hand soaked, he’ll have to get away first and find a way to light a fire later. And that’s assuming that Ashur was being truthful about what the rock will do once he lights it! And with the barking getting louder, complimented by the clear ring of human voices, Darius finds himself with no other option. 

He keeps his eyes open for the silvery glint of water, passing by small puddles from the rain. When he finally finds a body of water longer and deeper than he is tall, wide enough to even clear a spot in the canopy, he takes a breath and plunges inside of it, the cold flashing through every inch of his body like lightning, the torrent beneath the deceivingly-calm surface thrusting him downriver, head over heels. 

And the rushing water in his ears drowns out the sound. 

CW: mentions of dissociation and execution descriptions of head injury, amnesia, deceit, fire, body horror, encounters with law enforcement, and near-drowning.

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

Too big to care

I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in BOSTON with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then PROVIDENCE (Apr 12), and beyond!

Remember the first time you used Google search? It was like magic. After years of progressively worsening search quality from Altavista and Yahoo, Google was literally stunning, a gateway to the very best things on the internet.

Today, Google has a 90% search market-share. They got it the hard way: they cheated. Google spends tens of billions of dollars on payola in order to ensure that they are the default search engine behind every search box you encounter on every device, every service and every website:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

Not coincidentally, Google's search is getting progressively, monotonically worse. It is a cesspool of botshit, spam, scams, and nonsense. Important resources that I never bothered to bookmark because I could find them with a quick Google search no longer show up in the first ten screens of results:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Even after all that payola, Google is still absurdly profitable. They have so much money, they were able to do a $80 billion stock buyback. Just a few months later, Google fired 12,000 skilled technical workers. Essentially, Google is saying that they don't need to spend money on quality, because we're all locked into using Google search. It's cheaper to buy the default search box everywhere in the world than it is to make a product that is so good that even if we tried another search engine, we'd still prefer Google.

This is enshittification. Google is shifting value away from end users (searchers) and business customers (advertisers, publishers and merchants) to itself:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/05/the-map-is-not-the-territory/#apor-locksmith

And here's the thing: there are search engines out there that are so good that if you just try them, you'll get that same feeling you got the first time you tried Google.

When I was in Tucson last month on my book-tour for my new novel The Bezzle, I crashed with my pals Patrick and Teresa Nielsen Hayden. I've know them since I was a teenager (Patrick is my editor).

We were sitting in his living room on our laptops – just like old times! – and Patrick asked me if I'd tried Kagi, a new search-engine.

Teresa chimed in, extolling the advanced search features, the "lenses" that surfaced specific kinds of resources on the web.

I hadn't even heard of Kagi, but the Nielsen Haydens are among the most effective researchers I know – both in their professional editorial lives and in their many obsessive hobbies. If it was good enough for them…

I tried it. It was magic.

No, seriously. All those things Google couldn't find anymore? Top of the search pile. Queries that generated pages of spam in Google results? Fucking pristine on Kagi – the right answers, over and over again.

That was before I started playing with Kagi's lenses and other bells and whistles, which elevated the search experience from "magic" to sorcerous.

The catch is that Kagi costs money – after 100 queries, they want you to cough up $10/month ($14 for a couple or $20 for a family with up to six accounts, and some kid-specific features):

https://kagi.com/settings?p=billing_plan&plan=family

I immediately bought a family plan. I've been using it for a month. I've basically stopped using Google search altogether.

Kagi just let me get a lot more done, and I assumed that they were some kind of wildly capitalized startup that was running their own crawl and and their own data-centers. But this morning, I read Jason Koebler's 404 Media report on his own experiences using it:

https://www.404media.co/friendship-ended-with-google-now-kagi-is-my-best-friend/

Koebler's piece contained a key detail that I'd somehow missed:

When you search on Kagi, the service makes a series of “anonymized API calls to traditional search indexes like Google, Yandex, Mojeek, and Brave,” as well as a handful of other specialized search engines, Wikimedia Commons, Flickr, etc. Kagi then combines this with its own web index and news index (for news searches) to build the results pages that you see. So, essentially, you are getting some mix of Google search results combined with results from other indexes.

In other words: Kagi is a heavily customized, anonymized front-end to Google.

The implications of this are stunning. It means that Google's enshittified search-results are a choice. Those ad-strewn, sub-Altavista, spam-drowned search pages are a feature, not a bug. Google prefers those results to Kagi, because Google makes more money out of shit than they would out of delivering a good product:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/4/2/24117976/best-printer-2024-home-use-office-use-labels-school-homework

No wonder Google spends a whole-ass Twitter every year to make sure you never try a rival search engine. Bottom line: they ran the numbers and figured out their most profitable course of action is to enshittify their flagship product and bribe their "competitors" like Apple and Samsung so that you never try another search engine and have another one of those magic moments that sent all those Jeeves-askin' Yahooers to Google a quarter-century ago.

One of my favorite TV comedy bits is Lily Tomlin as Ernestine the AT&T operator; Tomlin would do these pitches for the Bell System and end every ad with "We don't care. We don't have to. We're the phone company":

https://snltranscripts.jt.org/76/76aphonecompany.phtml

Speaking of TV comedy: this week saw FTC chair Lina Khan appear on The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. It was amazing:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oaDTiWaYfcM

The coverage of Khan's appearance has focused on Stewart's revelation that when he was doing a show on Apple TV, the company prohibited him from interviewing her (presumably because of her hostility to tech monopolies):

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/apple-got-caught-censoring-its-own

But for me, the big moment came when Khan described tech monopolists as "too big to care."

What a phrase!

Since the subprime crisis, we're all familiar with businesses being "too big to fail" and "too big to jail." But "too big to care?" Oof, that got me right in the feels.

Because that's what it feels like to use enshittified Google. That's what it feels like to discover that Kagi – the good search engine – is mostly Google with the weights adjusted to serve users, not shareholders.

Google used to care. They cared because they were worried about competitors and regulators. They cared because their workers made them care:

https://www.vox.com/future-perfect/2019/4/4/18295933/google-cancels-ai-ethics-board

Google doesn't care anymore. They don't have to. They're the search company.

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/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

[dduane]

Ma’am Im in the final third of writing my first draft for my novel (just passed 70k words!) do you have any advice about book marketing or self publishing? Ive been looking at something called Royal Road also in regards to those two things but no on I know has even heard of it…

First of all: congrats on your 70K!

"Do I have advice about marketing or self-publishing?" Wow, probably way too much, at this point. But for the moment let's limit ourselves to specifics. :)

I hadn't heard of Royal Road either, so I went and did some poking around. Below is an article that deals with some basic questions about them.

(Adding a cut here, because this gets long...)

Having read this article, I went and had a look at Royal Road's ToS, and their fee structures.

The fees were the first thing that gave me pause. Specifically, this; while RR has free options for readers, they don't appear to have any free options for writers. (If I'm wrong about this, I invite anyone with a pertinent link to point me at it.)

Now, the rule in writing as regards money is this: "The money flows toward the writer." This rule was codified years back by writer Jim McDonald and called Yog's Law (and over here at John Scalzi's blog there's a discussion of the Law and what it involves in these self-publishing days). It means that any kind of professional writing or writing-for-pay that involves the writer paying someone else to get their work where people can read it must routinely be carefully examined. You, after all, as the writer, are the source of the product and of the value in the product. If you're paying anybody to help get your writing seen, you need to look carefully at who controls whatever you're paying for along the road to being published.

So: if you use RR, you're paying them to show your work to people. (It seems a bit like AO3, except RR charges you for publishing with them.) Their ToS emphasizes that you own your work, but if you use them to publish, "...you grant Royal Road a non-exclusive, worldwide, sub-licensable, revocable license to use, display, promote, edit, reformat, reproduce, publish, distribute, store, and sub-license Your Content on the Services. This allows us to provide the Services, and to promote Your Content or Royal Road in general, in any formats and through any channels, including any third-party website or advertising medium."

Okay. So how, though, do you get paid for publishing on this site?

RR simply says that you're allowed to link your work to your Patreon or your PayPal account, and can accept donations that way.

Well, that's nice. But it doesn't strike me as much in the way of a payday. (Especially after what Patreon takes off its subscribers' earnings these days.)

What people are seeing this work?

Just Royal Road members, as far as I can tell.

And how many of those are there?

...I'm finding it surprisingly difficult to quickly determine that with any certainty. There are numerous sites that talk about millions of pageviews (assuming that's what "M" means these days): but views are not users.

And what is feedback worth, from that readership? ...Also hard to say.

This equation has way too many imponderables in it for my liking.

There are a number of articles scattered around that discuss numerous webpublishing options and which seem preferable. (This one seems to rank RR highest.)

...If I'm starting to sound unenthusiastic about this whole prospect, I think that perception would be correct. From where I'm sitting, RR looks to me kinda like paying for feedback... and from what might be a fairly small, and at the very least, limited, pool of contributors. I'm not at all sure how this experience would be likely to do anything much but help you feel better about yourself as a writer. Which, well, sure, that's nice. But is it value for your money?

More: how does what you get from RR actually help you transit into the wholly different experience of getting your work edited, getting a cover for your first novel(s), and learning about marketing out in the broader marketplace? That's unclear to me.

(I have to add one thing here as a general caveat. I'm in the Really Annoying Congestion stage of a head cold at the moment, and as a result my view of everything today is significantly jaundiced. But I also have to say that I doubt this particular assessment is going to change much after my nose stops running.)

So. If I was in your position, I'd be tempted to give the RR concept a miss and start inquiring into how best to use actual online publication resources that feed into a system where to get your work at all, people give you money.... because Writers Gotta Eat. (And yes, there's a whole self-publishing strategy that runs on the Nickel Bag paradigm: make sample work free online—sometimes through a retailer like the 'Zon—and then have all the samples "point at" work that people have to pay for. But that's another discussion.)

Anyway: hope this has been of some general help!

[snailsgoingdowntown]

Help, I Reincarnated as the Female Lead's Sister in Law!

Re-upload due to complications.

Chapter 1

Dion x Fem! Reader

Warnings: possible yandere themes, arranged marriage, toxic relationship, slight incestual themes due to the content of “Roxana,” blood, mention of murder

Nsfw warnings: Lost of virginity (both parties?), fingering, oral (fem receiving), spit, reader does NOT get to finish, vaginal pain, HEAVY DUB/CON.

Disclaimer: I do NOT condone any of the harmful and dangerous actions/behaviors that takes place in this piece of fiction. These actions/behaviors should not be normalized or romanticized as they are extremely toxic and dangerous.

Minors/blank/blogs that don’t reblog fanfiction dni and don’t span like my posts or you will be blocked.

Overall story summary: you reincarnated into one of your favorite novel-turned-webtoons. However, you didn't want to become the female lead's sister-in-law...

Word count: 4542k

===

“The Way to Protect the Female Lead’s Older Brother,” also known as “ROXANA” was a rather dark novel that was adapted into a webtoon. And as luck would have it, the webtoon wasn’t finished, and you don’t remember all the details of the fan translated web novel you found online.

Now, why would that be a problem? Simple:

You reincarnated into it. Not as a main character, or even a servant to one of the families. You weren’t a child of Lant’s or one of his many wives. You weren’t a friend to one of his children, either. Instead, it was worse than most of what was listed.

Whatever God you managed to piss off had a silly little, petty revenge plan that was straight out of a third-rate horror novel with teenage girls fawning over it. And truthfully, if written right, the non-existent novel would have been a banger – but no, instead it was anything but. Or maybe you only really think that because of your position in this world, where your birth was simple, but painful for your mother, and you were lucky enough to be born into a family that loved and cared for and about you.

It was a noble family, to boot. Wealthy enough to live a comfortable life. Two siblings – an older sister who was already married at the age of thirty with a child on the way. The other was a 12-year-old boy who made it his life mission to be the most annoying little piece of shit on earth.

But as you lay on your back, hands holding your nightgown in place, all you could think about was how small Dion Argece makes you feel. The wedding ceremony just finished up hours ago, and here you are, back pressed against silk sheets as your now-husband hovers over you.

(Name) Argece.

What a horrible name and cruel faith.

Inky black hair that falls into his carmine red eyes that held indifference. His wedding-tux was still on, even the outer jacket with the silly lone rose in his pocket. Oh, what a shame – to be married to such a handsome man only for him to be obsessed with his sister and emotionally unavailable.

God despises you.

“Close your eyes if you’re uncomfortable.”

He unbuttons his outer jacket, sliding it off his shoulders and tosses it to the side. You should close your eyes, you think, because his face was nothing but stone. Not even a condescending grin. He doesn’t comfort you, either – at least not in the typical sense.

“Keep still,” his gloved hands grab your thighs and you let him open them, creating space for him to get closer. You want to push him away and run. But what good would that do? Why couldn’t the man just slice something and claim that the blood on the sheets was from your first night?

“I’m scared.” You speak without thinking, becoming stiff as his hands traveled from your outer thigh to the inner, creeping underneath your nightgown. His gloves feel cold and uncomfortable, touch borderline rough. “I – I need a moment. Please?”

He tilts his head, giving it thought. After a moment he removes himself, but annoyance radiates off him. Your heart beats faster as the second’s pass. You remain on your back. The ceiling is painted white, no decorations and the room was bare saved for a dresser, closet, mirror and a random chair by the window.

You will be sleeping in here, from now on.

“Can’t do it? Then don’t.” he’s annoyed, surely, otherwise he wouldn’t look at you like you were an insect. What a wonderful way to start the newlywed life. But it’s not that easy to walk away, and while it sounds like he’s giving you a say-so, he isn’t; if you don’t consummate your marriage tonight, then…

“… I’m sorry. It’s my first time and I heard there would be pain.” You shouldn’t have to explain yourself. But Dion wasn’t exactly known for his… compassion. Or basic human emotions, either.

If this was someone else, would you be able to do it? Where did everything go wrong? This didn’t happen in the novel; Dion didn’t get married. There wasn’t a grand wedding with the Five Ruling Families in attendance. Nor was there a steamy scene with this man throughout the novel, not even in the side stories.

How did you end up here?

“Then relax.” If you weren’t scared of losing your life you would have run him over. It affects everything! Then again, it wouldn’t matter to him – this is a duty. Not something he wanted, you’re sure, and even if he did it would only have his best interests in mind.

“… I’m ready.” You don’t answer him, because it would only lead to a one-sided argument. Even a wall listens better. Despite your wishes, Dion does the same as last – settles in-between your legs, and this time, you close your eyes.

“Good. Try to relax or it won’t fit.” Your cheeks burn at that, mind already picturing how it would look. Many men say things like that, even in your old world. It’s just a thing they said, like with many things. It doesn’t really mean anything, because if it did then…

His gloves are still on, cold and grip tight on your thighs. You were hoping he would be gentler. But as his hands travel up and up until they’re pulling at the edges of your underwear to slide them down, you realize he won’t.

There’s no slickness down there, your underwear dry and vagina even drier. You peek through your eyelashes, watching as he inspects the article of clothing. He tosses it a few seconds later.

“I’m only going to ask once – would you rather keep your clothes on or off?” It seems that with every second reality just hits harder and harder. This was going to happen. Nothing could stop it. And if hypothetically, if he were to stop this, what then?

Even if he sliced an arm to fake the night, what about later? A baby, Lant wants Dion to have a child. No. You couldn’t do that to a child, especially yours.

“On. Please.” You expect him to just shove in a finger or two, watching as your body jerks in pain. Instead, he lifts your hips until your bottom was off the bed and flips the flimsy skirt up. And then there’s a glob of something wet and gooey, legs twitching as it lands on your bare cunt.

“D – did you just… spit?” steading yourself on your arms, you look on in disbelief as your husband just spat on your pussy. A string of saliva hangs from his tongue.

Instead of answering you, much less look at you, his thumb comes into play and spreads his saliva over the surface of your cunt. It’s only when his thumb swipes over your clit do you let out a shaky breath.

Maybe he was feeling generous or maybe he was curious. Dion decided to rub the twitching nub over and over until your legs twitch and cunt clenched around nothing. The glove made it uncomfortable, but even so, you just tried your best to focus on the pleasure. You weren’t sure if he would give you pleasure like this again.

“You’re enjoying this,” he retreats his hand leaving your twitching and needy clit lonely.

A pathetic whimper escapes as you watch your husband take his glove off with his teeth. This man is everything you fear and more, a character that you should have never met. Yet the sight of him lowering his head to lick a long stride against your slit has your legs shaking.

His tongue is warm and slimy, causing your hands to clench the sheets as your head falls back. Another lick and another until it’s flicking your clit back and forth, sending warmth throughout your body. However, despite the pleasure he’s giving you, his grip is still tight, almost painful on your hips.

Your heartbeat doesn’t slow down as he continues. Your fear barely dies down in your chest, even as the tip of his tongue teases your entrance. You shut your eyes tight, a breathless gasp leaving your lips as he thrusts his tongue into your cunt.

“It feels – “a pause as you catch your breath, “weird, it feels really weird and – “

Dion repeats the action until you’re a trembling mess, sensitive from your mental state and the current oral sex you’re receiving. It’s hard to focus on either one, your mind constantly reminding you that you’re in a novel, about to fuck a man who’s jaded and possibly has a thing for his sister –

“Ah… wait, that’s a lot…” he decides to go further, bringing his thumb back and rubs loose circles into your clit. He’s still eating you out, but not like a man starved like you read in erotic novels.

Even so, your husband keeps at it. If it was a good or bad thing was up for debate – on one hand, while it does feel good, everything is moving too fast, your pleas for slowing down falling on deaf ears. It really is a lot, tongue fucking you while those loose circles on your clit become tighter, rougher. Should you just lay back and take what he gives?

Your mother would probably say so. Your sister would just pat your head and smile like it was expected. Normal. Take what he gives, especially if it benefits you in any way.

“…?” your eyes open at his tongue leaving your cunt with a saliva trail, his eyes glued to your twitching sex. His thumb also stops rubbing circles, instead going back to grip your hip as your back starts to become sore. Your ass is still off the bed and if he keeps you hosted up like this, then you really will snap in half.

But then he locks eyes with you.

“I thought you were scared.” Dion doesn’t let you respond, either because he doesn’t care or because it would ruin the ‘mood.’ He latches his mouth to your poor, abused nub instead. And sucks.

“H-hey!” one hand supporting you while the other grabs at his hair, you didn’t expect him to throw your legs over his shoulders. “That’s enough, really, no need to – ugh…” his mouth was warm and soft, but it sends your nerves on fire.

Good. Bad. Good. Bad.

Good, bad, does it matter anymore?

He sucks harder and your fingers tug harshly at his hair. You kick your legs but are unable to tell if it’s from pleasure or the flight or fight response he’s causing you. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t bat an eye, making it his life mission to suck you dry.

“Ah – wait, Dion – “

It’s at your whine of his name does he finally, finally stop, a ‘pop’ when he detaches his mouth from your sensitive and bullied clit. Your husband decides to lick one last long stripe from your entrance to your clit, all the while making eye contact with you. Your chest heaves as your mind settles, arousal overthrowing your thoughts.

“What is it?” Monotone, his voice is monotone and he’s not even out of breath. Your mother lied, there’s not even a hint of pink across those cheeks. It’s fine, though – no, it’s not, it’s baffling how steady he seems when your back is about to break, and you can’t even breathe.

Your eyes travel from his to his hair, where your hand is still grasping the strands. Mind still catching up to your body, you let go and draw your hand back, covering your eyes with it. Your entire body is shaky and legs sore. You’re not used to this position.

“It – it’s enough.” Your husband lets you pull your legs back, feet pressing against his broad shoulders as you bring them back down. The relief is almost immediate, a pleasurable and relief-filled sigh leaving your chest. You allow yourself to rest for a bit, your sensitive cunt and sore legs screaming for it.

“… O – okay, I think, I think that’s fine. Excuse me…” gently, you pull one leg up until your foot is flat against the bed. With a shudder, you trace your entrance timidly with two fingers, getting used to the touch. You’re not sure of how big he was, but you’ll use three fingers just in case.

You gape like a fish when his hand reaches out, grabbing yours roughly. You didn’t even notice the dip in the mattress as Dion got closer on his knees, face inches away from yours. Oh God, now what –

“What are you doing?” clearly annoyed, Dion doesn’t let you look away – not that you were going to – free hand grabbing your face, pointer finger and thumb on each cheek. It’s barely loose enough to leave no bruises. It hurts regardless.

“I – I was… prepping…” part of you wants to pretend that this man doesn’t know how to comfortably prepare you for pentation with his… but you know better. Because an inexperienced man wouldn’t know how to do things with his tongue like that, or where the clit was because –

“Are you still scared?” The hand that was holding yours releases it, opting to sneak its way to your cunt. His fingers were larger than yours, nimbler as they stroke your labia minora. Are the shivers washing over you from nervousness or arousal?

“… I’m scared of the pain.” By instinct, you knew he meant more than scared of sex – if you feared him. Still.

It doesn’t need to be said.

“Scared of the pain?” His eyes glow in the moonlight, bright red with absolutely no emotion. “Why?” he doesn’t break eye contact as his fingers inch closer to your entrance, stroking the opening, making your legs jolt. What a horrible man.

You remind yourself that this man only felt fear as a child – and even then, it probably wasn’t for very long. Nothing lasts for long, in this estate.

“Because I hate it.” You don’t break eye contact either, breathing in when one finger slowly sinks in, your walls now stretching uncomfortably. It’s not as painful as you thought it would be, your wetness mixed with his saliva making it easier. Your nails are about to rip holes in the silk sheets.

Like a curious animal, he tilts his head, curling his finger. It doesn’t feel good, it hurts, but you endure it even when you wince. Dion decides it would be a good idea to spread your legs a bit further, and like a bug, crawls between them even more. You hiccup when he adds a second finger.

They’re bigger than yours, they reach deeper. In your old world, did it feel like this too? You can’t remember.

“It’s going to hurt worse if you don’t let me finish this. Relax your legs before it hurts worse.” Pressure builds in your eyes, but you fight it off. “Save your tears for when it matters.”

You’re tired of him already.

He doesn’t move them, at first. It’s almost like he expects this, because as you adjust to something foreign inside you, he starts to rub at your clit, again. Softly this time, touch firm enough to feel but not hard enough to hurt. Or maybe you’re lying to yourself because you’re wincing, still.

When he starts to thrust them in and out, you force yourself to look at the ceiling, scared to see the expression on his face. You also don’t want to watch the show, scared it’ll already be bloody. Just a bit.

“It’s tight.” He states it like it’s the morning news. “And wet.” Your cheeks burn with both shame and embarrassment, shutting your eyes.

“… ugh…,” groaning, your hand reaches out to grab his wrist. “It hurts, a lot.” You sit up, back against the headboard, avoiding your husband’s gaze. Unfortunately, by doing this, your eyes land on your messy hole, light blood on his fingers as he pulls them out only to thrust them in again.

“It’s normal. The more you resist the worse it gets.” You give up, letting him do as he pleases, shutting your mouth.

The fingering still hurts as the minutes go by, but little by little the pressure eases down and when he arches his hand, he hits something soft and spongy. He’s rewarded the sight of your head banging against the headboard once, shoulder tense as you bite your bottom lip.

If only you could see that look in his eyes.

“Here?” He repeats the action, faster this time. You only nod your head, lips ajar, tongue swiping over them. Your hips have a mind of their own, raising as the heel of his hand rapidly smacks against your clit with his thrust of his hand.

You’re half there mentally and halfway in heaven, momently forgetting just who was here with you, who room this belonged to, and your entire situation to begin with. “Oh - wait, it’s a lot but – “

A third finger is added, and it starts to sting again. Another wince, another groan, but your arousal helps to keep the pain to minimum. All three fingers curl to hit that special spot that makes you see blacked out stars and pussy clench. All the while light blood coats his fingers, a sight he’s already used to due to his lifestyle.

It’s only when he pulls his hand away completely do you return from the skies, a small layer of sweet coating your forehead. Your hands are shaky as you look at him, only to be drowned back into reality when you’re met with those red, indifferent eyes that glow brighter than the moon.

“If you’re ready, lay on your back and spread your legs.” He undoes his pants while saying this, scooting back to give you some room.

With a heavy heart, you do so, laying on your back and spread your legs. You were fine just moments ago, so why is your heart leaping out of your throat rather than staying in your chest? Maybe it was because of the pleasure, or…

You’re scared, again.

You don’t look when something fat and heavy plops onto your pelvis. You don’t look when he brings you closer by your thighs. You don’t look as he rubs the head of his cock against your slick folds, catching on your clit.

“Relax or it won’t fit,” he reminds you before pushing the fat head in. At first, it’s a sting no bigger than an ant bite. But then another inch goes in, and you feel like a sword is cutting you straight up open, your legs tensing and hands grasping his forearms in a futile attempt to stop him.

Your nails dig into his sleeves, and you can feel the skin underneath. The tears build up as your face becomes hot, taking in deep breaths like it would soften the intruding body part.

“Big – it’s too big, it’s not going to fit – “

“… You look cute when you cry.” It’s sinister, teasing and everything that makes your stomach drop. His thumb wipes away your tears that’s already staining your skin. But he stops regardless, if only to shut you up if nothing else.

You think a few minutes pass but it’s hard to tell when he’s still inside, pulsing and you could feel every vein on his cock. It’s thick, it’s big and you don’t think you’re equipped to handle it, handle him. He’s everything that ruins your sense of self, that makes your dreams shatter and fear rot you from the inside out.

But he’s your husband…

But he’s your husband.

“Relax,” he inches in deeper, slower this time, but not letting you get a word in. Your nails dig deeper, and if it weren’t for his shirt, you would have drawn blood. Another inch, another gasp that leaves you breathless, grasping for anything that could keep you grounded. The only thing you could grab was him, however.

“Dion, Dion, you’re going to break me, I can’t – I can’t – “

“You can. You have to.” Was his voice raspy, just now? If so, it worries you, because you just remembered one very important detail – Dion Argece was, if nothing else, a sadist. Be it from his childhood trauma, or if he would be like this regardless of, he loved seeing Roxana cried.

It never occurred to you that he would love seeing you cry, too.

How deep was he? It feels you’re being speared open, his cock bullying its way into your virgin hole. You weren’t a virgin in your last life, but it didn’t hurt like this. It had hurt, felt like you were being ripped, but not enough to make you cry and breathless.

You think you can feel blood trickling down your ass crack. “Please tell me you’re almost there, please…” sniffling, you look up at your husband, the man taking your virginity in the name of ‘marriage.’ A mirror shatters in the back of your mind.

There was a flush across his cheeks. Pupils blown wide and a small grin on his lips. He was enjoying this. Your pain, your tears and perhaps even your fear – he was enjoying this.

It would have been better if he didn’t feel anything, you think. Just a stone statue that was performing its task. But even monsters had emotions, you guess.

“I’m not. Just endure it for a bit longer – I’ll stop once I’m at the hilt.” Was he a liar in the novel? You think he was, otherwise, the overtaking of the Argece family wouldn’t have happened. Lant wouldn't be dead. But things haven’t followed the novel to a T – this was proof enough.

“You’ll stop? Like, completely? You – you took my virginity, so that should be enough. Right?”

You hate it when he keeps wiping your tears away. Or when he slides in even more, your blood coating his stupid dick. You hate it when he brings one hand to toy with your clit, granting you pleasure that was just overthrown by the smothering pain traveling up to your belly.

He doesn’t answer. And that was enough for you to rake your nails down the back of neck, drawing blood in return. He’s making you bleed, so it was only fair if you could too, right?

Deeper and deeper until his balls rest against your bottom and pelvic meeting yours. Surprisingly, your husband keeps his word, letting you adjust to the new feeling. It feels heavy. It feels like a heartbeat, like a rod that was stuck. It felt awful.

How long did it take you to get used to it, in the past? No longer than fifteen minutes max, right? No, shorter than that. Then again, it didn’t hurt this much, but that partner was more loving, more caring, gentler –

“Who are you thinking about?”

The question breaks you out of your daze. You blink, once, before you question him back. He only glares in response.

Panic fills you when he pulls out, pain still there, blood still trickling down. “Wait, you’re – “

“I’m what?” he pulls out until only the head remained inside. You try your best to ignore the bruising grip he has on your hips. You’re going to be sore tomorrow. If you survive this, anyway.

God, if you’re listening, please let this night end peacefully.

“B-big. It’s going to hurt, please don’t…” dragging your hands down from his neck to his chest, your fingers dig into his shirt.

“Hm. A shame, really; you still must give birth, eventually. It’s better to get used to it now than later.” Your mind doesn’t catch up with your body, legs tensing when he slides oh so carefully back in, like he didn’t just push your worries aside like nothing. “Relax.”

“Dion,” hiccupping, you brace yourself, head nuzzling into his chest as your hold on his shirt tightens. When he pulls back out, you could feel every detail, every vein trail, his grith truly opening you. He graces you a mercy, going at a languid pace, minimizing the pain. His thumb never stopped rubbing your clit, either.

It goes like that, for a good while. Slow and steady, your hushed sobs dying on your lips, your husband careful with his thrusts, but not his grip. It was almost comforting, in a way. But you were still scared of him, and of what will happen after this.

“… I have a proposition.”

His hips stop and your ears perk up.

“You want me to stop, correct?” Dion pulls back until he’s on his heels, his cock dragging along your walls. You wince before breathing out. He doesn’t even try to hide the sadistic look in his eye as he sees the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. He almost grins in glee.

“Y-yes…” You don’t let go of his shirt. “Why…?” there’s hope inside you, but dread starts to rot it away.

“Jerk it.”

“…what?”

He was different from the novel. Extremely so, because you doubt that Dion would suggest a thing, much less give you a choice in the matter. That Dion would have either ignored you and this night or take you as is, no mercy, no humanity granted if this took place at the beginning at the novel.

When he doesn’t repeat himself, you pull yourself up until you’re resting on your knees. The sight of blood both on his cock and the sheets make you gag and thankfully, he doesn’t comment on it. Hesitantly, you take him into your hands, fingers barely able to close around it.

It throbs in your hand.

Your blood is coating your hands now, too.

Only silence is between you, your hands working him. Your thumb swipes over his head, circling it before stroking his dick up and down. Your other hand plays with his balls, massaging them. You’re not sure how long it would take him to finish.

Your core throbs in pain, and you become worried over the thought of peeing. It would probably hurt.

You want to sleep.

Without giving it much thought, just like your husband, you spit on it, a glob of saliva falling onto the staff. It throbs harder. And when you look at him, tired eyes and drool still dripping down from your tongue, still jerking him off –

“…Ngh…”

It’s almost cute, the way sperm spurts out and makes a mess on your hands. The very small and fleeting look of embarrassment on his feature is almost enough to comfort you. But when there’s barely a sheen of sweat adoring his forehead, unlike you was still recovering, you’re reminded that your husband was different from you.

There are no kisses, no sweet nothings shared between lovers. No stroking your hair or comforting your trembling form as your legs shake. Or even an offer to warm a bath for you, the warm water soothing your body. There’s none of that.

Not even a smile.

“Welcome to the Argece family, wife.”

Instead, all that awaits you is a restless sleep on a bloodied mattress with a husband who left after cleaning himself up.

Which God despises you so much and why?

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: werewolves

Want your monsters a little hairier? Then this list is for you! Whether you prefer your werewolf books fantasy, horror, slice of life, or romance, this list has a something for everyone (especially if you want your werewolves queer!)

For more details on the books, continue under the readmore. Titles marked with * are my personal favorites. And as always, feel free to share your own recs in the notes!

If you want more book recs, check out my masterpost of rec lists!

Lobizona (Wolves of No World series) by Romina Garber

Young adult. As an undocumented immigrant, Manu has been told her existence is illegal. When her mother is arrested by ICE, Manu is left alone, and decides to seek out the only connection she has left: her dead father's criminal connections. Here she finds a secret underworld of Argentinian folklore, where a seventh daughter is a bruja and a seventh son is a lobizón - a werewolf. But as Manu understands more about who and what she is, she comes to realize her self is seen as forbidden in more ways than one, and that she will have to fight for her way to exist. Tackles heavy subjects in a more lighthearted magic school setting.

Empire of Wild by Cherie Dimaline

Horror. Nearly a year ago, Joan's husband Victor disappeared seemingly into thin air. That is, until Joan stumbles across a revival tent where the local Métis have gathered to listen to the charismatic preacher Eugene Wolff - a man with Victor's face. But when she faces him, he doesn't recognize her at all, claiming his mission is only to spread the word of Jesus. Only, that is far from all he's doing. Now Joan must find out the truth of what happened to her husband.

Lycanthropy and Other Chronic Illnesses by Kristen O'Neal*

Young adult. Priya had plans to go to Stanford, but is derailed when the fallout from lyme disease puts her back, making her question if she'll ever get back to normal. Luckily she has her discord support group with whom she can chat and vent about her illness. Even more - she has Brigid, online fandom friend and fellow chronic illness sufferer. But when Brigid disappears from the web without warning, Priya must drive to Pennsylvania to make sure her friend is okay - and finds that Brigid's condition is a bit hairier than she expected.

Santa Olivia (Santa Olivia duology) by Jacqueline Carey*

Is this werewolf fiction? Technically not. It's sci-fi more than fantasy or horror, with a plot reminiscent of superhero stories. It follows Loup Garron, a young girl growing up in Santa Olivia, an isolated town by the border between the US and Mexico, where the inhabitants aren't allowed to leave. Loup is the daughter of a "Wolf Man", a soldier enhanced with wolven traits which she have now inherited, allowing her to take a stand against the soldiers keeping her small home town oppressed. Also features a main f/f couple!

A Wolf Steps in Blood by Tamara Jerée*

Novella, lesbian soulmate romance. Red wolves went extinct in Alabama long ago - except for the ancestors of Yasmine's family, who were saved by witches putting a spell on them, allowing them to take human form to hide. Now, that spell is growing weaker, and Yasmine is struggling for control with her wolf. When a chance encounter with the exiled blood witch Kalta reveals the two to be not only fated mates but also the possible answer to the pack's struggles, Yasmine and Kalta both must work together to overcome the grief in their hearts and save their families.

Mongrels by Stephen Graham Jones

Horror. A coming-of-age story following a boy and his aunt Libby and uncle Darren, living on the road and staying outside the law. They're all outsiders, but Libby and Darren are mongrels, mixedbloods, werewolves waiting to see if their nephew is like them or not. The boy, meanwhile, must decide if the wandering life of his family is for him, or if he belongs somewhere else.

How to Be a Werewolf by Shawn Lenore*

Graphic novel, available as printed or webcomic. Malaya was bitten by a wolf as a child, and ever since she has lived an isolated life with her family, working in their coffee shop and fearing she will lose control of her wolf side. Having never met another werewolf, Malaya knows little of what she is - until she meets a stranger claiming to be like her, and that she's far from alone. But the more she gets involved with other werewolves, the more she also gets dragged into the dangerous conflicts between packs.

Artie and the Wolf Moon by Olivia Stephens

Middle grade graphic novel. One night, young Artie witnesses something incredible - her own mother turning into a wolf. She finds out she's from a lineage of werewolves, and to help her awaken her abilities her mother invites family friends who are like them. A new world opens up for Artie, but so do dark secrets: werewolves have a deadly enemy, and it's coming back for them.

Bored Gay Werewolf by Tony Santorella

Brian is a slacker, having dropped out from college, working as a waiter, and spending his nights drinking with his friends - except the nights when he turns into a werewolf, of course. But after having slipped and killed a jogger, Brian is noticed by fellow werewolf Tyler, who's working on a self-help startup for werewolves and offers to mentor Brian. At first Tyler's methods helps Brian get back on his feet, but the more he learns of Tyler's expansion plans, the more he realizes he might be bad news. A good read if you want a funny, goofy take down of toxic masculinity that doesn't take itself very seriously.

Such Sharp Teeth by Kim Harrison*

When her pregnant twin sister is left by her boyfriend, Rory decides to go back to her home town and stay with her for a time. But the town is also the home of old childhood trauma, and something wild is roaming the woods. When she gets attacked and mauled one night, Rory's successful life is changed forever. Lycanthropy used as a metaphor for female rage, trauma, and bad coping mechanisms.

What Big Teeth by Rose Szabo

Young adult horror. It's been years since Eleanor Zarrin last saw her family, having been sent away to boarding school when she was little. But after a bloody misstep, Eleanor must flee the school and return home to her family's manor. Here she's reminded of her family's darker side, and that she has never been able to run and hunt in the woods alongside them. But in a family of wolves Eleanor is something else - and even more dangerous.

Red Hood by Elana K. Arnold

Young adult horror. A take on the little red riding hood tale where the girl is both the victim of the wolf and the huntsman who slays it. After a particularly embarrassing incident, young Bisou flees into the woods, only to be faced with a predatory wolf. To her shock, their face-off ends with the wolf dead, not Bisou. Even more shocking: the dead wolf turns into a boy. Suddenly, Bisou finds herself a hunter and a protector, routing out the wolves who masquerade as boys. Visceral and bloody, but pretty feminism 101 in its portrayal.

Fear the Wolf by Stefanie Gilmour

Urban fantasy. Alex never wanted to be a werewolf, but when a latent gene was triggered by a traumatic event, causing her to shift, she had no choice but to accept her new reality. Now she stays under the radar, avoiding other werewolves as she tries to keep a job and keep her temper under control, fearing that she will be discovered or even hurt someone. The only person outside her family who knows her secret is Emma, a wizard and Alex's closest friend. But when Emma gets a new boyfriend and starts acting strangely at the same time as attacks and disappearances of supernatural citizens are on the rise, Alex might have no other choice but to get involved in the local werewolf community to fight back.

Kitty and the Midnight Hour by Carrie Vaughn

Urban fantasy. Kitty Norville is a midnight radio host and a werewolf, having been turned after a traumatic attack. Stuck in an abusive pack, Kitty needs an outlet, and decides to use her radio midnight hour to speak about the supernatural. Soon others like her are calling in, seeking advice, and Kitty's life is looking up - but in drawing attention to the supernatural, she has also put a target on her back, and someone wants to make her shut up, no matter what.

No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull

When Laina's brother gets shot and killed, a video recording the incident reveals something shocking: a giant wolf which, when shot, turns into a naked man. The video gets leaked, and little by little monsters start coming out into the open. But there’s a reason monsters have decided to step put of hiding, something otherworldly and far more dangerous than them. Follows a large cast of characters, among them members of a werewolf pack.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

Rules for Werewolves by Kirk Lynn

A story told entirely in dialogue, Rules For Werewolves follows a group of young outsiders, drifting from place to place and squatting in empty suburban houses as they try to build a life in a world that has no room for them,

Howl by Shaun David Hutchinson

Young adult. New kid in town, Virgil Knox, has been attacked by a monster. Only, no one believes it was actually a monster, insisting it must've been a bear. But Virgil knows it was really a monster, and now he fears that it will come back for him - or that he will become one himself.

The Devourers by Indra Das

In Kolkata, India, college professor Alok encounters a mysterious stranger who tells him a story of a race of people at once man and beast, and a wanderer in 17th century Mughal who is torn between two worlds.

Thor by Wayne Smith

Thor the German Shepherd is devoted to his suburban family, and when Uncle Ted comes to live with his family, that devotion is put to the test. For Ted is no longer human, and Thor can sense that there is something dark and dangerous hiding inside him, something which he must keep his family safe from.

Wild by Meghan O'Brien

Selene leads a lonely life, avoiding forming close relationships to keep herself and others safe as she turns into a remorseless wolf creature every full moon. Eve is a forensic pathologist who has sworn off romantic relationships after having had an ex cheat on her, focusing instead on catching murderers. But when a masked man attacks Eve and Selene comes to her rescue, the two become unavoidably intertwined as a monster even more dangerous than Selene stalks the streets.

Wolfsong by T.J. Klune

Ox Matheson's neighbors, the Bennett family, aren't ordinary people: they're shapeshifters, able to turn into wolves. Intrigued by their lifestyle, Ox becomes close to the youngest son, Joe. But when murder comes to town, Joe ends up leaving, and won't return until years later. Now adults, the feelings between them can't be denied any longer.

[spiceofvy]

hi I sent the octopus ask! 🐙🐙🐙

(i just discovered the octopus emoji and it's adorable)

Anyway I mean octopus/sticky as very physically clingy, like arms and legs most be around object of affection at all times (bordering on cartoon logic but might as well have fun with it no?)

Like I think being a human octopus "clingy as fuck" would be sometimes adorable and intimate but also come with a lot of challenges because sometimes it's hot, things get sweaty very fast, it would be hard to escape the bed in the morning, thank fuck for seatbelt laws because a human octopus reader would be all over the drivers lap sort of thing, basically taking physical touch is a love language and dailing it to twelve you know.

Personally I really don't care for being touched these days, (though I wished people could pet me more) so I guess I wanted to see someone work with the concept of super physical contact.

Sorry if my original ask was confusing tho. I learned the use of the word "stickiness" from a an English translation of a chinese web novel (as in clingy as sin) and had visited the aquarium recently so that muddled my use of language by a lot.

TXT - Reader is super clingy

a/n: hiii! thank you for sending an ask again! i totally get your struggle, i also muddle my words a lot especially in english ._. in your original ask you said that any group is okay, so i went with txt because i thought that this prompt would fit them super well. i hope you enjoy 🐙

cws: gender neutral reader, sfw, pure fluff

Yeonjun: The one to enjoy it the least. He just needs a lot of room to move around, he really enjoys being independent. But he will always be very kind about it, holding your hand for half an hour before letting go so you can at least get your fill on physical contact. He still returns to your koala hugs every night, because if he is honest about it, he can't sleep without your hugs anymore…

Soobin: So much teasing from his members. They love joking about how their tough leader was turned into a plushie by his significant other. But he also enjoys it, especially in a more private setting. Finally he can let go and trust that someone holds him anyway. Literally.

Beomgyu: My poor boy overheats really easily, so too much physical contact would kill him especially in the summer. So he really can't stand cuddling for too long. He loves it though in the winter and probably turns into the octopus himself and uses your body warmth

Taehyun: A bit flustered, especially in front of his bandmates. But in private he loves it. Likes to cuddle you all day and definitely clings to your back when you cook and the other way around. Sometimes just carries you around on his back when you don't feel like leaving the bed.

Kai: So happy. Such a happy boy. He is super clingy and cuddly himself, If he likes someone and so he is just over the moon to be with you. Hold his hand all day, sleep on him, sit on his lap during group activities. He doesn't care if he gets sweaty or there are weird looks. He just wants to get all the physical contact that he can.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 60

Very soon after regenerating, the Second Doctor had pulled a large earring out of a trunk in the TARDIS, which he described as very fashionable once and remembered that at one point he used to wear it. (Novel: The Power of the Daleks)

Borusa once wrote a history book titled Rassilon the God. (Cat's Cradle: Time's Crucible)

Like all other Time Lords upon initiation into the Academy, it has been confirmed that Susan once gazed into the Untempered Schism. (Audio: E is for...)

Many years after Nyssa left the Fifth Doctor to stay on Terminus, she had an adventure with the Fourth Doctor. This meant the Doctor had met Nyssa before Traken. (Novel: Asylum)

The First Doctor trained to be a ninja on Quinnis. (Novel: The Devil Goblins from Neptune)

The Ninth Doctor once got stranded when the TARDIS burped and jumped ahead 20 years in the future. From 20 years in the past, he communicated with a 12 year old girl named Sally Sparrow, knowing all about where to leave messages for her because she wrote about it in her homework, and that homework had been given to him by a spy in the future. Sally Sparrow successfully returned the TARDIS to the Doctor and grew up to be that very same spy who gave the Doctor the homework in the first place. (Short story: What I Did on My Christmas Holidays by Sally Sparrow) This story was later adapted into Blink.

Amendment 9 of the Fourth Constitutional Addendum is a Gallifreyan law also known as the "Stupidity Clause." K-9 brought it up while trying to think of a way to get Romana II found innocent during her trial. (Audio: Mindbomb)

On one of their first trips off Gallifrey, the First Doctor and Susan went to Garazone, where Susan bought him a model of the Nightjar after hearing stories about it. The Doctor put it up in the TARDIS. (Audio: Pursuit of the Nightjar)

This Nightjar model is still in the TARDIS by his Eleventh incarnation. (Audio: All of Time and Space)

Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart and Doris once saved Susan from drowning. (Short story: The Gift)

Soul catching refers to the Gallifreyan rite in which a Time Lord transfers their mind to another's shortly before their death, after which their mind will join the Matrix. The Third Doctor used it on Waro once, and the Eighth Doctor once used it to communicate with the Beast. (Novel: The Devil Goblins from Neptune; The Taint)

The Thirteenth Doctor once identified Halogi-Kari as a Harbinger, a rare and powerful race. He was a Wolf of Fenric and had transported Ace to Iceworld on Svartos when she was young. (Novel: At Childhood's End)

The Fifth Doctor once went temporarily blind when he plugged himself into a defense net and got overwhelmed. (Audio: The Children of Seth)

The Eighth Doctor tried to warn the Seventh Doctor of the circumstances of his upcoming regeneration, but the Seventh Doctor decided that he would proceed as he would have anyway (as foreknowledge is dangerous to the Web of Time.) (Novel: The Eight Doctors) This means that the Seventh Doctor knew he was about to die and regenerate in the beginning of the TV Movie.

Near the end of his life, the Seventh Doctor grew depressed and lonely, and he knew he should go to Gallifrey and give himself to the Chief Hospitaller and his team of psycho-techs. Gallifrey had access to neurosurgery, therapy, and drugs, and the last resort was forced regeneration with the hope that the next body would not have the same melancholia. (Novel: The Eight Doctors)

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[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

this is more personal of a post than i usually make, but i promised myself that if lovely runner had a happy ending, i'd share this story. our story. my best friend in the whole world passed away a long time ago. he was soft, and sensitive, and always wore his heart on his sleeve. he was, in fact, a lot like sunjae — (they even had the same dimples. :')

the first time i saw this show, i experienced a warmth i thought i'd never feel again — watching sunjae, falling in love with his character — it was like rediscovering the memory of my best friend. like through this show, he was reaching back for me. showing me that love, once given; will always return — in numberless shapes and forms.

i don't have a watch to go back in time with; i can't save the boy in my memory or restore his smile — but for the two months that i spent with lovely runner, it was like he was alive again. i saw him in sunjae — both boys who believed in love as the highest law. the only covenant.

i want to thank pd-nim, writer-nim, the original creator of the web-novel, wooseok, hyeyoon, and every single person involved in this show for the blessing of this experience. for eight years my best friend's name was a stone in my throat. after spending time with sunjae and sol, i was finally able to say it again. it felt like coming up for air after a million years submerged at sea. i'm more sorry than i can say that my friend, who loved love more than any other person i know, never got to meet his sol. never got to fully share the gift that was his heart. but because of lovely runner, i got to see the life he might have led, if he were still here. and it was beautiful. :)

it was everything i wanted for him.

because of this show, i can now imagine a version of him somewhere, present and in full bloom: a version of him that is happy and loved and appreciated, drinking in the delight of cherry blossoms. as long as i'm able to see this show, a little piece of him will always be looking out at me through sunjae's eyes.

and i'll never take it for granted.

i'm under no illusions about lovely runner: i know it isn't groundbreaking cinema. what it is, however; is art: and this is what beautiful art does when it manages to touch you — it offers you more of your own reality. more world. more image. more hope. more light.

lovely runner was made with infinite, infinite love, and i could feel it in every frame. i could feel my best friend again.

i will never stop being grateful.

/

"till now, i have only mourned for you; now i begin to hope for you."

[haveyoureadthistransbook]

Nimona by N.D. Stevenson

goodreads

Nemeses! Dragons! Science! Symbolism! All these and more await in this brilliantly subversive, sharply irreverent epic from N.D. Stevenson. Featuring an exclusive epilogue not seen in the web comic, along with bonus conceptual sketches and revised pages throughout, this gorgeous full-color graphic novel is perfect for the legions of fans of the web comic and is sure to win Noelle many new ones. Nimona is an impulsive young shapeshifter with a knack for villainy. Lord Ballister Blackheart is a villain with a vendetta. As sidekick and supervillain, Nimona and Lord Blackheart are about to wreak some serious havoc. Their mission: prove to the kingdom that Sir Ambrosius Goldenloin and his buddies at the Institution of Law Enforcement and Heroics aren't the heroes everyone thinks they are. But as small acts of mischief escalate into a vicious battle, Lord Blackheart realizes that Nimona's powers are as murky and mysterious as her past. And her unpredictable wild side might be more dangerous than he is willing to admit.

Mod opinion: It's been a couple of years since I read this graphic novel, but I remember enjoying it :)

[grandlinedreams]

hi hi i really love your writing!! if you don't mind a request i was thinking about reader having devil fruit powers, specifically the nagi nagi no mi, and law's reaction to it. he and the reader were apart for some time and in that time she acquired the fruit! thank you!

hiya! aah, that's such a good request, of course I can!! I hope that i've done it justice for you!!

[heads up!: brief mention of Law's light novel, Dressrosa arc spoilers]

“Silent.” 

Despite the low thrum of energy that the murky purple aura emits, you still tense as you slip into the room from the open window, glancing towards the door. Outside, it’s dark and still ㅡ perfect. Turning, you refocus on the task at hand, knowing that you have to be quick. 

Approaching the mahogany desk in the center of the room, your gaze sweeps over the stacks of paper, the neatly lined pens and carefully angled photograph. At first glance, it suggests the presence of a man who’s dedicated to his work, using his family as a motivation. 

Your eyes narrow. What a joke. You’re tempted to swipe the photo and dispose of it, but you also know that it’ll cause more problems than it solves as you crouch behind the desk. The bottom drawer is locked, though it’s a temporary problem solved by the quick work of a hairpin before you slide it open.

The contents at the top are carefully innocent, manila folders with titles scrawled across them, but it’s not what you’re after. It takes a minute of prying around the edges with your fingernails but the false bottom finally pops free, and you stare at the stack of envelopes, the names on them ㅡ and you smirk.

Paydirt. 

The stack of letters are carefully inserted into the satchel slung across your body, false bottom pressed carefully back into place before everything is put back and the lock re-done. You take a couple minutes to make sure absolutely everything is as it was before you entered the room before you approach the window, slipping out of it and making sure to shut it.

It’s a short drop to the ground below, and you glance up at the window, then to the satchel before you turn and slip away like a thief into the night. 

ㅡ

The man before him is an idiot. An influential one, but an idiot nevertheless ㅡ and as Law watches him fluster and attempt to cater to the warlord despite not having said a word yet beyond a greeting, he makes a mental addition of kiss-ass to his assessment. 

“It’s not every day we have one of the warlords here, what an honor!” Shorter than Law by almost a foot and sweating profusely, the man has to take two steps to every one of Law’s in order to keep ahead of him. “You’ll have the finest accommodations here in my estate!”

“Generous of you.” Law glances out one of the many ornate windows, the disparage between the lush, sprawling green of this idiot’s estate and the dull, dusty spider web of town roads beyond it making his eyes narrow. “Especially given that your people seem to be struggling to make ends meet.” 

“It’s nothing to worry about, I assure you.” The mayor blots his face with a handkerchief before stuffing it back into his sleeve. “We’ve been having issues with the locals, but I’m sure we’ll come to an agreement soon.”

Law is far from the biggest fan of the navy even though he now technically “works” for them ㅡ a concession that still makes his mood sour every time he thinks about it ㅡ, but he’ll have no qualms in reporting the blatant corruption when he gets a chance. If they’d even listen, that is. For the difference to be as vast as it is, he wonders if they know and simply don’t care. 

“Ah, just who I was looking for.” The mayor ㅡ whose name Law hasn’t bothered to remember ㅡ comes to a halt, and Law doesn’t look away from his silent observation of the view outside the windows. “Show our guest to his quarters, will you please?”

“Of course, Mayor Tamago.” The newcomer’s voice is vaguely familiar, and it prompts Law to look over, eyes widening a fraction as he realizes he   recognizes the speaker. You stare back, the only sign that you share his surprise being the brief flicker in your eyes, there and gone as you smile at the mayor, who turns to Law.

“This is my assistant, [Name]. They’ll make sure you have what you need.” 

“Right this way,” you say, gesturing for him to follow you down the hall.Once you’re around the corner, you snatch Law’s arm and yank him into the closest room in one fluid movement. Letting go of him, you make sure that the door is locked before rounding on him. “What are you doing here?”

Law raises an eyebrow, arms folded across his chest. “I could ask you the same. You work for that man?"

Your eyes narrow. "No, Iㅡ" You still, turning to eye the door warily. You can't talk here, too risky to use your ability where others can see. "Give me a second."

Law watches as you fish a piece of paper from your pocket as well as a pen, scribbling something down before you hand it to him. "Here. Meet me here tonight." Your eyes flick over him, assessing how he's changed since you last saw him. "We both have explaining to do."

ㅡ 

You've changed a lot since Law last saw you. Leaning against a wall, your arms are folded across your chest, expression contemplative as you stare up at the moon, seemingly unaware of his approach. 

Gone is the gangly teenager who'd glared at him from behind Wolf's back, loud with their fists when sparring and even louder with their words ㅡ but you're still you, just far from what he remembers. 

"Thought you got lost," you say as he approaches, pushing off from where you'd been resting. You've changed out of the outfit from before, wide bands of dark leather braced at your elbows and your knees, along with gloves and boots a shade or two lighter. 

It's in his silent observation that Law becomes abruptly aware that you aren't alone, tensing as someone steps from the shadows. Your expression doesn't change, however, even as you pivot to gesture to your companion. "Law, this is Sabo."

Law isn't dumb. The news coo and word of mouth keep him well informed, and the man standing next to you is familiar only in name and face, printed on the occasional page. 

Sabo is second in command within the Revolutionary Army. His expression is friendly if not a little guarded, placing a gloved hand on your shoulder. "[Name] told me they ran into an old friend, but I wasn't expecting it to be a warlord." 

"It's still a new development," Law replies, then glances at you. "I wasn't aware you'd joined the rebels. Is that why you're here?"

You nod. He waits for you to say more, but you're looking around before you glance at Sabo, who debates for a moment before he nods. You lift a hand and snap your fingers before uttering a phrase that Law never thought he'd ever hear again. "Silent."

And suddenly he's ten again, watching that murky purple aura encompass him. But this time he's not standing in an alley, and you're not Corazon. 

"We're taking a big risk telling you all of this," Sabo says, pulling Law's attention from you. "But [Name] trusts you, so I'll trust their judgment." 

ㅡ 

"That devil fruit…" Law trails off as he walks in step with you. He's tried to think of how to broach the subject with you over the last ten minutes in any way that doesn't involve grabbing you and demanding you tell him how and where you came across that particular devil fruit. 

"Surprised, huh?" Your tone is softer now. "I stumbled upon it by accident. I had every intention of letting you know somehow, but…” Your right hand comes up, pressing against the front of your left shoulder. “I landed myself in something of a desperate situation right after, so I…”

“It’s fine.” It’s not, it really isn’t ㅡ but Law tells himself that it is, because there’s nothing he can do about it now. And somehow, he has the feeling that if Corazon knew that it’s you who has his power now, he’d approve. “So you’re done here?”

“Mm. Sabo’s going to turn in that information I stole to the appropriate people, and things should fall into place after. I’ll stay here to make sure, but it shouldn’t take long.” You glance at him, eyes glimmering with amusement. “Why, that eager to get rid of me?”

He smirks. “You’re more tolerable than you used to be. I was going to ask if you’d want to come with me instead. I could use someone with your talents.”

“Yeah, yeah, just admit you missed me already.” Your tone is teasing, though your expression sobers. “As tempting as that offer is, I can’t just abandon the rebels.” You reach for his hand, ignoring the way he tenses as your gloved fingers brush over the stamped letters on his knuckles. “You’ll see me again, Law. Sooner than you think.” It’s a rejection at worst and cryptic at best, and you temper your words with a grin that’s entirely the you of his memories. “Try not to miss me too much until then, okay?”

ㅡ

The next time that Law sees you, it’s after everything that’s unfolded in Dressrosa. It’s far from somewhere that he wants to see you, but when he catches wind from Luffy that Sabo (who’s his brother, of all things) is here, he suspects (read: hopes) that you’re lurking around somewhere as well. 

And he ends up being right, because you accompany Sabo in visiting while they’re tending to various injuries in Kyros’ old house. “Glad you didn’t lose your arm,” you remark when you settle next to him, studying the neat bandaging that covers the healing stitches. “But you did what you set out to do, didn’t you? So congratulations are in order.” 

“It wasn’t how I planned,” Law says flatly and all you do is laugh. You’d gotten the impression from your brief interactions with the Strawhat crew that they weren’t fond of following plans ㅡ and Law’s frustrated expression only hammers that home. He tries not to let himself enjoy your presence, knowing that it’s fleeting ㅡ you’ve been set on a different path than him, ever since you parted ways the first time. 

When Sabo moves to leave after handing Zoro the vivre card he’s had made for Luffy, he expects you to get up and join him ㅡ and when you don’t, Law nudges you. “Aren’t you leaving?”

“Do you want me to? And here I thought you said I was tolerable now.” There’s more than amusement gleaming in your eyes and when he frowns, you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Sabo and I are parting ways for now. He has business regarding the summit and I’m being sent to deal with the fallout of this fiasco, however it pans out.” You get to your feet, stretching. “And as I recall, a friend of mine made an offer to me a while ago.” You pause. “Does that offer still stand?”

Shooting star that you are, you’ve seen fit to linger for him ㅡ how long, Law isn’t sure. But you’re smiling at him, and it means more to him than he cares to admit.

“Of course it does.”

[dangermousie]

I haven’t been posting about Rebirth of a Star General but I have been steadily reading it and am about 190chapters in.

I will have to update my fave het web novels list because this is AMAZING.

QSCK most famous novel is, of course, Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage. It’s very well crafted and I enjoyed it (it’s probably the novel I like the most out of “OP reborn protag gets revenge and settles inner courtyard grudges as her OP ML watches admiringly and occasionally assists” genre) but my emotional investment and involvement was nil. The mains were too OP, inner courtyard scheming is something I have no interest in (I don’t watch harem dramas for a reason) and because FL woke up in the past before all the bad stuff really happened it opens the usual can of worms about punishing people for things they haven’t done yet (the sole novel I’ve seen actually tackle that issue was Rebirth of a Tyrant’s Pet which went on my fave list because FL wakes up as a kid and instead of getting revenge on kid versions of her first life husband and his brother who did her in first time around goes “well they are fucking kids, why the hell would I go after kids?” and actually had a sane plan of having different interactions with them that would not lead to the same outcome and that works! Not to mention she sees her brother in law who killed her in life 1 horribly abused and saves him because - once again - who on earth is OK with child abuse? Anyway, digression.)

I’ve seen people comment repeatedly that Star is not at all like this author’s typical novel and for me that is a great thing. Except for talent with weapons and formations (because she has experience from her past go-around as a general!), FL has no superpowers. Nor is the bulk of the novel dedicated to revenge - yes she wants it and eventually gets it but it’s like 10% of her time at most - like a sane person she spends the bulk of her time in living her new life - trying to make a career in the military, save various places, she acquires new friends and in a very very slow burn fashion, a new love interest.

And the thing is - her revenge would make sense here because unlike in most of those set-ups, she’s not reborn as herself younger or w/e - she wakes in a body of a young woman right after she herself was killed in life 1 - so that means the narrative continues linearly that way - any revenge is for acts actually committed in this timeline and characters have to deal with the fallout.

Oh, and the ML is not insanely OP either - he’s a very capable general and smart (yes, it’s general x general, mmmm!) and of course, this being a QSCK novel, he’s gorgeous, but he doesn’t have insane OP of eg Military Empress hero.

I am insanely invested in these people because we see their wounds and their slow growth (unlike in a lot of these novels where protags don’t really change much) and the secondaries are amazing too. So good! I hope the drama is half as good.

Speaking of, stills of the mains from the filming:

[puppetmaker40]

Today is my husband’s Peter David’s 68th Birthday. I don’t know where I am giving to visit him but I will today either in the hospital or the rehab center.

A little bit about my husband, the longer form can be found on Wikipedia if you search Peter David.

Peter is a writer of stuff. He is known for his comic book work, novels, and essays.

Comics: some of his achievements, wrote the Hulk for fourteen years, he created the Aquaman that Jason Momoa played in the films, created Spider-man 2099, the smart Hulk was his invention, X-factor, wrote Young Justice both the comic book and the animated series.

Tie in novels: probably best known for his Star Trek novels esp. Imzadi, Q-in-law, and the New Frontier with a character named Burgoyne 172 who is neither and both male and female. He did a number of movie novelizations for all kinds of franchises including Babylon 5, Marvel, DC, among others.

Novels: Fearless, Tigerheart, Howling Mad, Artful, the King Arthur series, Sir Apropos of Nothing and a whole bunch more.

Essays: wrote But I Digress for the Comic Buyers Guide, Op Ed pieces for the New York Times, and for his web log

Peter writes, he once told me, because he has to. He has so many ideas and what ifs running around in his head. We are working to get dictation to work for him.

Almost two years our lives were upended when Peter has a series of strokes, a heart attack, more strokes and a nasty Mersa virus that played havoc with his body. He is surviving with some physical limitations but the mighty writers brain works. I have been his caretaker since the previous strokes for over ten years and during that time he has developed diabetes and end stage renal failure for which he is on dialysis.

We still love each other very much and have held to our marriage vows close to our hearts



Happy birthday my love.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

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

[alexiethymia]

Hi, love your blog ❤️ especially your analysis on Jinshi and MaoMao. I have read LN till around volume 9 plus manga and I don't have any problem with spoilers.

Can you list all Jinshi X MaoMao moments? Like from volume 10 to whichever volumes you have finished...?

You see, as much as I love other characters, I'm mainly reading it to see my favourite ship sail, i.e. JinshiXMaoMao ✨ so if there are any great shipping moments in future chapters please list them, I'll give it a go. Thank you so much, really loved your char analysis ✨. This gem of a story is not discussed enough!

I can’t recall everything entirely, and the web novel I’m sure will differ from the light novel. But here are a few.

Some of the moments which I loved where when Jinshi asked to hold Maomao’s hands interlacing like in a lover’s hold. From what I read, he sort of marked her middle finger. Maomao later gets embarrassed after the fact. I’m not sure if it’s because she thinks everyone else saw them or because of the mark.

The moment I mentioned in my post was I think the end of LN 12? And also the end of WN 10 if I’m not mistaken. Maomao goes to Jinshi on her own. They end up hugging on the floor and she ends up falling asleep on him. He brings her to his bed (like the time she saved him during the ritual), and kisses her forehead for replenishment.

The recent WN arcs are quite interesting since Maomao has accepted his feelings and in her words, they’re now in a relationship (though of course as characteristic of Maomao she’s still cool towards him). There’s one interesting chapter about a night visit (haha) though nothing happens. In other words Jinshi is restraining himself. But surprisingly! It’s Maomao who’s being a bit forward now. At the end of the recent chapter in the recent arc, Jinshi is stopping himself from touching Maomao because he’ll want to hug her tight (and bite and lick her too, gosh does this man not get embarrassed at all??) and Maomao ends up tracing her finger down the back of his wrist up until his middle finger (maybe as payback to what he did in the Western Capital?) and I don’t know about you but it reads to me as her teasing him, though I might warn her from provoking him too much haha. (But then again maybe Maomao does want something to happen).

It’s also sweet to hear her inner thoughts after the night visit that she was both relieved and disappointed nothing happened and that she wants to both see him and not see him. It’s interesting to see her maybe unsure, and perhaps also a bit restless when Jinshi doesn’t call on her. Because this time she’s the one who asks Chue to call Jinshi to contact her. And finally the piece de resistance, when she wants help with something involving her Joka nee-chan, she thinks about someone she can trust, and the only face that comes to her mind is Jinshi. Arghh my heart. For this wary cat to realize how much she really trusts Jinshi. And perhaps her taking this step in accepting his feelings is her way of showing belief in his words that he will make it so she doesn’t regret them being together.

And oh! I loved the mother and daughter-in-law talk. For Aduo to finally reveal the truth to Maomao since she sees how serious the both of them are getting, for Aduo to compare herself to Maomao, for Aduo to offer her a chance to escape even if it would make her son unhappy (Chue actually interjects here! Because Aduo ordered her to make his son happy and Chue can’t accomplish that mission with Maomao gone, gah my heart. Chue the captain of the Jinshi x Maomao ship), and despite that chance and learning the truth, for Maomao to gain the resolve to stay (with Jinshi) anyway. They really have come so far.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Palestine Readings And Resources

The following is a list of resources that includes books, articles, websites, and nonprofits to help you get educated and/or involved in action pertaining to the Palestinian genocide. I originally compiled this list for personal purposes, to use in my own local communities. Since it's been an unbelievably grim and never-ending shit-show on the blog for the past 5 weeks, I now feel compelled to make this list public on here in the hopes that it might benefit someone.

Please be aware:

This post is NOT an invitation for you to treat me as your token Palestinian friend, personal educator, or woke police taskforce. Grow your own moral spine.

This list was originally compiled shortly after October 7. It has, as of the writing of this post, been 163 days. A LOT has happened since. Therefore, this list is not exhaustive.

New ways to get educated and involve have since materialized, and, indeed, new ones materialize everyday. Do your own due diligence and decide what shape your engagement is going to take.

I am using my own specific expertise and skill sets as a scholar and educator of Literature and Philosophy to populate this list. Therefore, naturally, a lot of what you will find on here is geared towards educating and raising awareness about the historical, socio-political, philosophical and cultural underpinnings of this genocide and how its reflected in art.

If you are looking for more practical resources, find activist spaces in your local communities.

This List Contains

Non-fiction books about Palestine

Fiction novels by palestinian authors

educational web resources

Documentary

organizations to donate to

BOOKS

A. non-fiction

Edward Said, The Question of Palestine (written by a Palestinian-American literary critic and critical theorist)

Rashid Khalidi, The Hundred Years’ War On Palestine (written by a a Palestinian scholar and historian)

A Land With A People: Palestinians and Jews Confront Zionism (anthology)

Ghassan Kanafani, On Zionist Literature (written by a Palestinian novelist and political activist)

Noura Erakat, Justice For Some: Law and the question of Palestine (written by a Palestinian-American activist and legal scholar)

B. Fiction and Poetry

Susan Abulhawa, Against The Loveless World

Etaf Rum, Evil Eye

Mahmood Darwish, A River Dies Of Thirst

Adania Shibli, Minor Detail

WEB RESOURCES

Al-Shabaka: The Palestinian Policy Network

BuildPalestine

If you are a teacher looking to educate about Palestine,

DOCUMENTARY

Gaza’s Fight For Freedom (2019) Directed By Abby Martin

ORGANIZATIONS TO DONATE TO

The Middle East Children’s Alliance (MECA)

The Palestinian American Medical Association

Medical Aid for Palestinians

Jewish Orgs (specifically helpful for anti-zionist jewish conversations and advocacy)

Jewish Voice For Peace:

We envision a world where all people — from the U.S. to Palestine — live in freedom, justice, equality, and dignity.Like generations of Jewish leftists before us, we fight for the liberation of all people. We believe that through organizing, we can and will dismantle the institutions and structures that sustain injustice and grow something new, joyful, beautiful, and life-sustaining in their place...more here.

2. Jews For Justice For Palestine. Click here.