#the trope is just so mid and tiresome...

[umihoshi]

please for the love of me,

if you're writing a reincarnation/transvered to another world story where them having had a previous live has 0 impact on the rest of the story.... just....don't???? don't make them reincarnated??? make your hero and story interesting enough that you don't need all that???

[escapedaudios]

Agent Ursula Schäfer in Der Wolfsjäger is canonically 32. I picked her age for a few reasons:

1) I wanted her to have history, experience and authority

2) I wanted to give her a canon age so people didn't self insert their own real-life age when the Jäger, the love interest, is 36. I want to characterize her more and let the listeners use their imagination to see the story through her eyes, not their own.

3) A lot of media with mostly female audiences does this weird thing where they take a female lead with clearly adult personality traits, skillsets, backstory, and responsibilities, then canonically make them teenagers for some goddamn reason and I high-key hate this trope. There are tons of women older than the YA demographic who favor reading and enjoying YA novels over "adult" novels and I sincerely think there's just a shortage of fun adventurous romantic stories featuring them over the age of like 23 and I think that's just so tiresome.

4) A lot of audio roleplays are set in schools, where the characters the listeners roleplay as would explicitly be younger than (most of) their real-life selves. The reverse almost never happens. I don't like the implication that you can't see yourself having an exciting, fun, and romantic adventure if you're over the age of like 25. Most of my listeners are in their early to mid 20s, but I want them to be able to imagine an older version of themselves that's still exciting, capable, desired romantically, and experiencing new things.

5) My channel is for adults. It's fine if teenagers listen to it and there's no NSFW content in it or anything, but I'm targeting adult listeners because I want an audience that appreciates more mature and complex storytelling.

6) I want to cater to my 30+ audience. There are a fucking billion school bully roleplays and anime-high school channels with MHA characters catering to teenagers, but basically nothing for listeners (especially in M4F) who are explicitly 30+. I might be an outlier here but according to my analytics, only ~9% of my audience is under 18. People seem to think audio roleplay is more popular with high school-aged teens than it actually is and less popular with older adults than it actually is. I actually have more listeners over 35 than under 18.

7) I want to bring my content to more people, and I want it to be something that they aren't embarrassed about. I'm sick to death of people talking about audio RP like it's this embarrassing thing for lonely people that you should be ashamed to listen to. I want it to be unique and exciting and cool as fuck and I want to make characters and settings that a fully mature adult would want to share with their friends and talk about openly and not secretly ashamed of and I do in fact think that having more mature characters helps with that.

8) I'm doing it for myself. Besides Ivan (a 33 year old divorced dad) and Jäger (a 36 year old with a long history), I have future concepts for characters that are older than my real-life self because I want to also picture my future self as interesting and desirable, and not see aging as something to dread. I kind of tested the waters with this long ago, where I made Basher 48 and Benji 42, albeit in the bodies of their early-20s selves to make it more palatable. I wanted to play characters older than myself from the beginning.

9) I want to give the listener characters some character. Building everything around being perfectly suited for self-insert is constraining and literally so boring. By making something fit everyone, you leave the listener with nothing. There's a few things I leave open to interpretation for inclusivity (ex: the ethnicity of the Listener character) but I want to start giving more of my characters a canon age, canon backstory, and more for the sake of contextualizing their place in the story.

10) I want my 30+ love-interest characters to just be themselves so that I can write love stories without also having to account for the the possibility of my more mature characters being interpreted as a "DILF" or the subject of some kind of taboo age gap fetish. I want it to be clear that they see each other as equals from the start.

Anyway, long ramble over. I wanna make more mature characters and I have a lot of thoughts about it.

[tenebrius-excellium]

I read Thick as Thieves in English and I want to translate it to my native language so bad because they just stopped any official translation mid-series :(

:: SPOILERS ::

Had to re-read The Queen of Attolia afterwards to make sense of it. I forgot Kamet existed back then.

Hmm. I liked how the reader was drawn enough into the assassination of the Mede to not question it. Wish it had been fact, actually. Nobody with real importance to their character has died since the first book, and Nahuseresh had it coming. Kamet would have been free except for the emperor himself who wanted him back, which would have given his arc the power he desired.

By the fifth book, I am appreciating the smart twists and the attention to detail so much. The pennant with the Gift of Hamiathe sowed onto it, the earring theme which Eugenides turned into marking people with his literal private seal, the way that it was made obvious who the sandal polisher lurking in the kitches had been by mentioning just a couple of specific words. It's fun and you have to pay attention and the tropes are just so so good.

Kamet's journey was a little tiresome to read - sure, him and the Attolian faced one danger after the other, but except for evading their hunters the events seemed to serve no purpose. That is, except for the salt wastes. That experience was just so beautifully described, and I felt myself relax in a way that I haven't in a while.

The tension only really picked up again at Chapter 11 of 14, and it was keeping me on the edge of my seat!!! The plot crashed on itself like a wave, that was epic!!! I just. Do not like the long buildup that was needed for such a conclusion!!! Oof. So so good, but it felt as earned as if I had just climbed a mountain myself to be able to enjoy that view. Anyone get what I mean???

I cannot wait for book 6! Gotta look at some fanart now!

[forbiddenfrvt]

D E C A Y

de·cay [verb] : fall into disrepair; deteriorate.

re4r!leon kennedy x former umbrella assassin!reader, enemies-rivals x lovers?

warnings: sparring violence, usage of blades, | mentions of getting cut | blood | suggestive jokes | m x afab reader | explicit language | word count: 3259 words. ps: This is part one of this specific project/series. Decay will be uploaded into three to maybe four? parts as this goes on? NOT YET PROOFREAD author's notes: Basically a fuzzbrain moment, I was like- I feel like the workplace romance trope for leon is going on around, why not write one that jiggles my brain further, this is practically word vomit atp so sorry for errors. i imagined how conflicted leon would be to have a partner who used to be the top mercenary for umbrella corp n needing to trust her; esp after what transpired at raccoon city. poor bby will always be haunted by umbrella, one way or another. THERE will be smut at some point obvi heh. but id like to build up their relationship first before so nothing dirty for chapter one here.

Life has consistently made itself clear about not wanting to be fair; regardless if you're a saint, or a sinner. And funnily enough, life had placed you in the depths of hell, eager to see you crawl out of it like the devil aching to wear its' wings once more. Needless to say, you weren't God's favorite, not that you still thought there was one. Constantly being denied the privileges of believing. Especially now after the affairs with Raccoon City; affairs that never really ended.

Affairs that had just begun.

It had been six years since your arrival within the USSTRATCOM force, six whole years of rigorous training along half-assed assessments, and none of those days had passed by smoothly.

Six years of pure torture under the guise of justice.

You made your way inside the DSO training grounds, the click-clacking of your stilettoes echoed throughout the hall, announcing your arrival. It had been noted to you by others how 'impractical' your heels were during training and missions yet all you could ever say in response was a flat; "So?" proceeding to head onto fights victorious and fashionably. But in all honesty, you just preferred how you can use the tip of your heels like a knife.

Oceanic blue orbs observed your entrance, standing in the middle of the ring, just how he did the day you've first met, his rigid posture evident. Glaring at you was none other than your assigned partner—; Leon Scott Kennedy.

“You.” He jeers, as if your presence alone was an insult to him. And no matter how long it had been, no matter what you did to appease your colleague, Leon never bothered to, at the very least, be decent with you.

Of course you weren't no martyr, his habitual hatred for you eventually rubbed off on yourself— reciprocating his negative disposition. “Awe, I take it you don't miss me, Kennedy?” You spoke with a copy smile etched in your lips; eager to annoy him further than your presence alone did.

Tch. Leon clicks on his tongue, focusing his eyes over his bandaged hands, tightening it as you hopped over the ring— tiresome eyes never abandoned yours.

"Just so you know," He paused, taking a step forward. "I won't go easy on you."

Hah, how cocky. His words rang in your mind, a mixture of excitement and irritation conjoining. You were practically rivals within the field at this point, with everyone letting out a harsh breath whenever the two of you would bicker or spar, feeling the tension for themselves. Eyes squinting in annoyance upon hearing his remark, “You'd be forced not to, Kennedy.” You turn to the side, fixing your bandaged hands, making sure the fabric were tight enough not to fall apart mid-spar.

"Forced?" Leon asks with a grin, raising a brow. He cracks his neck, loosening muscles before taking a defensive stance with a relaxed demeanor. "I don't know how you'd manage that." This by far had been the longest you two conversed since you've met. Further proving just how estranged the both of you are despite being partners. “Oh, trust me Ken Doll.” You flash a sly smirk, a single strand of your hair framing the left side of your face. “I know my way around you.” You add with a wink. After all these years together, how could you not? Leon raised an eyebrow at your cockiness. “How so?” he asked, giving you an amused smile.

You shook your head, placing one foot behind her and the other to the front for support; already gauging his moves for the spar. He took a forward stance, one foot forward and one foot back, raising his fists in a ready position. He had a smile on his face, but a competitive gleam in his eyes. “Show me what you can do.”

Without a word of warning, you pushed yourself forward, kicking the foot you placed to your back upward— aiming towards Leon's head. Fist at the ready for his defense.

Leon ducked to the side almost instantly, leaning back to avoid the unexpected attack. His face showed a look of surprise at your speed, but he quickly regained his composure. “Not bad,” he said with an impressed look on his face. “I thought you would have taken it easy on the first shot.” He readied himself for your retaliation, getting ready to dodge.

Your voice was laced with amusement and mockery at the same time. “Aw, you know I love you too much to do that.” Dropping the same foot to the ground, you wasted no time to spin yourself around and throw another roundhouse kick at Leon starting with the other leg, one arm supporting your leap. While yes, they both already acknowledge the fact that they were rivals, and maybe even the others had to— you did hold respect to his prowess in that regard. It simply was his attitude towards you that pushed you away from actually befriending the guy. That and, you simply couldn't bring yourself to lower your pride. 'Just for Leon Kennedy? Nah, you wouldn't. Not in a million years. Right?'

He subconsciously allows her to be herself during fights. He excites her, more than she wants him to. More than he'll ever know.

Leon jumps to the side, narrowly avoiding the vicious attack yet again. His eyes were wide with surprise at the speed and power contained within your attack. “You’re certainly packing quite the punch,” he said, getting ready to respond with his own attack. “You must be more determined than I anticipated.”

You could only chuckle— “C'mon Kennedy, it's me.” enjoying this spar session. You caved to relax your stance, preparing to avoid his attacks. Your eyes intent on not leaving his body. "You know I'm capable of anything."

“We’ll see if you can keep up with my pace,” he says with a smirk as he begins to rush in. He swings a wild left punch to catch you off guard, and then sends a hard right kick towards your head. “Let’s see what you got, dollface!” he taunts. It seems Leon wasn’t holding back anymore, but that was a given with the two of them.

Your eyes slants in focus, ducking down to avoid the kick while simultaneously dodging his punch, your leg swiftly sliding down across his legs in an attempt to trip him down. Adamant to avoid his hits. You were indeed faster than Leon, but he obviously packs more force in his punches than you could. Duh, he's a muscle man.

You manage to avoid both of his strikes, moving much faster than he anticipated. Still, he catches himself, recovering from the attack with surprising skill. He seems even more impressed and cautious than before, but ever more determined to land a hit. “Very impressive,” he says, taking a second to catch his breath. “Maybe I underestimated you a lil’ bit.”

He sounds genuinely impressed this time. And you hadn’t expected him to actually compliment you, especially since you’ve been rivals for as long as you can remember. “You're just rusty now, Kennedy.” You grin— cartwheeling away from him, before crouching down preparing your body for his next blows. “Fun. But rusty for me.”

“Rusty or not, you sure are something else, [Y/L/N],” he says with a small, almost amused smile. He starts circling you, readying himself to continue the fight. It seems he’s determined to land one of his attacks. “What’s your next move, huh?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, I don’t have all day!”

Her legs swiftly launched towards him, landing behind him before kicking his knees to push him on the ground— giggling mockingly as she does so. “Awe?" a fake hurt, "You can't even spend an entire day playing with me now, Ken Doll?”

Leon stumbles, clearly surprised from your sneak attack. He recovers quickly, standing back up, but not before letting out a small grunt of pain. “Alright, now you’re asking for it,” he says, with a playful grin. He lunges forward in an attempt to land a punch but quickly backs up. “I hope you’re ready.” He seems more determined than ever, throwing his jabs and kicks with an increased level of power. It seems you’d really made him angry with your previous kick.

You eventually got hit with his punches on your cheek along with both of your forearms from blocking them, yet your smile never faltered, nor the glint in your eyes as you stared directly at his blue orbs. “Am I? Maybe I am demanding more from you.” You threw your arms sideways blocking his while simultaneously hitting his side with your elbow, using your agility to land blows back in retaliation for his harsh punches. Laughing as his brows furrow in agitation, “Don't stress about me, Handsome.”

“I’ll admit, you’re better than I expected,” Leon says as he lands several solid blows on your arms, his punches growing stronger and stronger as the fight continued.

Suddenly, he lunges forward, trying to wrap his arm around your waist and pull you into a tight head lock. He squeezes his arm in an attempt to knock you down. If he can pull off his attack, he’ll gain the upper hand in this fight. You had better come up with a plan, and fast.

With a quick turn, you did let him feel up your waist; but only before sliding down to escape his grasp, crouching and gliding in and back out between his legs to avoid his lock, coming up from behind. “Never did I think a day would come where I'm in between your lap, Kennedy.” You whispered teasingly on one side of his ear, before going over on the other, blowing cold air on his earlobes— “But here we are.”

His face reddens at your teasingly mocking words, but all you get from him is an irritated frown. He’s not going to let that get to him, no matter how much you tease him during this spar. Seizing the opportunity to, you hit his sides from the back to push him aside.

Leon jumps back, narrowly avoiding your blow to his ribs. He glares at you over his shoulder. “You’ll regret that, [Y/N],” he growls., spinning his heel around and points an accusing finger towards you. “You better watch yourself with that kind of talk, princess.”

“Hmm? What kinda talk?” You inquired, voice— vixen-like.

Leon scowls, annoyed at your words, but you certainly caught him off guard. "You know what I meant," he says through gritted teeth. “And don’t get any ideas.”

Obviously, his reactions piqued your interests further more, taking slow strides circling him as he did to you earlier. Your hips sway from left to right as if you couldn't be bothered to be on guard. “I wish you were half this funny all the time, Mr. Policeman.” You looked at him, a blank face with a seemingly disappointed tone, “Maybe I would've liked you better.”

Even so, a small smirk finds its way onto his face. “Oh yeah? Is that so?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. His tone is a little bit teasing with a hint of arrogance. "Having you like me sounds disgusting, [Y/N]." He seems a bit more relaxed than before, but you can tell he’s still determined to win this sparring session. "I don't blame you though."

“What makes you think I even see you as a member of the opposite sex?” You snarked, "Much less a member of the same species..." cocking your head to the side, before ushering him to come at you. “If I had a knife I would've already had it sitting on your throat— Kennedy.” You add menacingly, yet— it was obvious in your tone that it was more so you simply expressing your blatant annoyance. You rarely could ever feel the urge to actually hurt such Leon, but man would it feel so good to.

“Oh, you think that’ll save you?” Leon asks, raising an eyebrow. He seems confident, but he’s hiding a flicker of uncertainty. He’s never fought against a knife before, and he’s not sure if he’d be able to avoid serious damage if you attacked him. But he can’t back down now, he’s come too far.

“Let’s see it, dollface,” he taunts. “Let’s see how you do against a real weapon.”

The officials probably wouldn't care as long as they didn't actively go and try to kill one another so you smiled in agreement. Clearly reminding yourself why you liked his spontaneity; he mirrored you, in ways you both liked and disliked.

“You're asking a fish to breathe underwater at this point Leon.” Your smug smile matches his, taunting him back with confidence. You swiftly grab one of your daggers stashed on the table, letting Leon pick his weapon of choice out, fairly showing what you picked off.

Leon looks surprised for a second, then takes out a combat knife from his pocket. He seems eager to finally bring a real weapon into the fight. “What do ya say, doll face?” he asks with a wink. “You ready to get serious?” He smiles and stands in a defensive stance, gripping his blade tightly. Even if it was just a training exercise, he didn’t seem to be taking any chances, as if he was actually fighting for his life. That’s just the type of person he is.

“I don't know if I'm ready for that sort of commitment with you yet, Kennedy.” You remarked, jokingly.

With each swish of the daggers around your fingers— you lowers your stance, making it easy for you to jab the weapon around.

You were a weapons expert like Carlos is, that's for sure. A friend whom she might never disclose around the space. “A criminal versus a cop.” She mumbles to herself, laughing inwardly.

“Try and catch me, Officer~.”

Your playful words only make him smirk again as he advances on you with a determined look in his eye. “I’d rather take you by force,” he says, his voice filled with confidence and authority. He doesn’t waste any time before lunging forward with his knife, swinging it in a wide arc to test your reflexes and ability to dodge. His eyes are cold and focused, as if he’d been fighting real killers his whole life. “Let’s see how you handle this, doll face,” he says, with a faint smile. “I can’t wait.”

The girl ducks down in opposite directions that Leon swung at, letting him be at the offensive this time around. You linked your arm around his before kicking him from the back, still not actively swinging your daggers. , You were used to this, of course, in every sparring session they had together; it became clear to you what Leon is good at, and where his blind spots were.

Hell, one would think this is how their usual dates would go; if they actually were a couple. But no, course not. “Best you could do? I'm falling sleepy here, Kenny.”

Leon stumbles back from your kick to his back, barely managing to keep his balance. He’s surprised to see how well you’re dodging his attacks, but he’s not about to back down yet. He growls as he charges forward, sending a wide slash towards the center of your body. This time he’s putting all of his strength behind his attack, taking no chances. “You won’t be sleepy for long, dollface,” he says with an amused grin. “I’m going all out this time.”

The former rookie cop manages to graze your stomach, a medium length gash forming at your skin, contrasting beautifully against your [Y/S/C] complexion. With so much as a hiss of pain, the girl sprang forth like a snake.

Hence her nickname at the battlefront.

In retaliation to his slice, you grab hold of him from the side, wrapping your legs around his hips before stabbing the tips of your daggers in his arm, creating two holes on his bicep.

Leon looks surprised by how quickly you react to his attack as he grunts in pain. In the blink of an eye, you plunge your daggers into his arm, leaving him bleeding.

“Damn! Fine, fine, ya got me,” he says, smiling in spite of his wounded arm. He grits his teeth, clearly in pain, but he does have to admire your skills. You really are impressive to be able to take him down so quickly.

“Alright yeah, I’d say you won,” he admits with a chuckle. “Really? When we're both injured in the same capacity?”

You could only roll your eyes in disbelief, lifting your shirt up to showcase the long wound Leon carved onto you. “Did you want to be a surgeon or something?” Your eyes darting to your stomach and back at his arm. “Be glad I cleaned my knives earlier, I almost panicked that I left paralyzers on the blades.” “You got me there,” he admits with a laugh. “Your skills are certainly something else.”

With so, your arms clearly bruised, you turned around. “Can you untie my hair for me? It's pulling too roughly now— you messed it up after all.” Your voice sounding a lot more meek now than earlier, clearly a different person outside of combat.

Leon raises an eyebrow at your request, but he nods nonetheless. He seems surprised to see you ask something like that of him. It’s a gentle gesture, but it clearly catches him off guard. “Sure, no problem.” He reaches around and unties your hair, doing his best to be gentle.

Once your hair is untied, he steps back. “Anything else you have in mind, dollface?” he asks with a teasing wink. To which you could only stare at him blankly, throwing a cloth and gauze pad at his face, harshly, before walking away to leave. Silently urging him to get his wound patched up already.

“Alright, alright!” Leon calls after you, laughing slightly as he holds the cloth up to his arm. He looks annoyed, but deep down he’s happy that you care. He takes a quick look at his wounded arm in the mirror, then heads toward the medical bay to get himself patched up.

Despite the competition and rivalry, there is a mutual respect between the two of you. And deep down, he knows he can’t help but care about you, even if he doesn’t admit it out loud. Nor does he want to admit it to himself.

You couldn't help but glare at the staff surrounding the area who clearly thought something was between you two. You long knew how much you used to idolize Leon, but now that everything was said and done, it dawned on you that you both simply respect one another, but didn't think too fondly of the other.

It was hard for you to explain it, even to yourself, but all you know is that they're colleagues who dislike both, yet still cared. Maybe just professionally. A secret loyalty, if you may. “Bye, Kennedy.” You waved off to leave the training grounds— walking a bit slowly as you approached the door. Leaving it to close on its own as you left. Leon could only roll his shoulders once you disappeared eyeing her trail in conflicted interest, caressing the skin of his arm that met yours as if to recall the sensation. Shutting his eyes with his head hung back as a guttural groan escapes his lips, displeased by his thoughts that began to shroud with images of you.

"Till next time, Dollface."

[limewence]

Hi! Was wondering if you had any dnf fic recs on ao3? :)

hi!! this is perfect timing actually, anon--i've been diving into the dnf tag as of late and i have so many new (and old!) faves to share under the cut :D

first off, i don't actually read a lot of irl/"canon" dnf? i know this is usually the most popular genre so i apologize in advance if this is what you were looking for </3 anyway what i consider to be the undisputed king of this particular strain is @netheritedream's hey there delilah songfic...this was Such an era, and sometimes i go back and reread hari's fic just to recapture the contact high of mid-jan dnf because nobody else has encompassed their dynamic as well as she did w this

in terms of lore aus, martyr wrapped in butcher paper by @aetherknit is the og god/king smp!dnf fic. one of my all-time favorite dnf pieces and one of my favorite pieces of writing EVER. isaiah knows how much i love this and since i've read it, i have never shut up about it.

another lore fic i think about Constantly is @boatstrats' an extant form of life, which is the thing that finally pushed me into caring about canon lore. dnf is more implied in this but (slight spoiler here) the motif of decay that boat uses is something that i continually embarrass myself about whenever we dm. definitely an incredible read!!!

a lot of my absolute faves are weird and slightly offbeat aus--case in point, guy.exe, again by isaiah (for maximum impact check out zin @taxolotl's incredible comic after you're done). this is a sci-fi au where george constructs dream's consciousness into a hologram and they work through their Issues

i've also really been enjoying Phosphors' ongoing dystopian/nosedive au!! this is quite unsettling and definitely leans more toward the "fiction" part of fanfiction, which never feels tiresome. they have such a subtle and detail-oriented writing style too and i'm incredibly excited for the next chapter <33

if sci-fi's not your jam then you might like this 500 days of summer au by squigly!! perfectly toes the line between funny and quietly pathetic in a reaaaallly cool way and it's such a clever subversion of the manic pixie dream girl trope

i've also always always adored @dontrollthedicesideblog's super smash bros commentator au. dice is such a pro at dialogue and getting a reader situated in a new world and this is just lovely, heartwarming, and all round hilarious <33

last but not least, your hands were warm (though you came in from the cold) by @didntstand is so...... okay so it's a roommates/housemates au, after george returns from a long trip abroad. really nails the unspooling of a complicated relationship and i revisit this one all the time.

i genuinely consider all of these to be beautiful works of fiction and they all come from writers i really admire so once you're done with the fics here i REALLY recommend you check out everything else on their profiles <333 ty for asking and happy reading!!

[gaygay--astronaut]

I wrote a book review for the first time in ages for Gideon the Ninth (which I finished this morning) and I’m posting it here too because I want to also no spoilers because reviews are mainly for potential readers k bye

I just finished this book this morning after pulling an all-nighter to finish it, as though I was 15 again and not 25 (and to be frank, I haven't really used goodreads since then) (also kids, don't pull all-nighters when you reach your mid-twenties. You will believe you can do it and it will be like before, but it will not). I have not read the second one yet so I can't say anything about foreshadowing beyond this one entry in the series.

So I am a character reader. I can take an half-assed plot if the characters are compelling, but I would never stomach a tightly wound, perfectly orchestrated plot with a passable cast - and let me tell you, it is with its characters that Gideon the Ninth shines! I didn't find myself disliking a single one! Well, I disliked many as people, but they all worked as characters. They were 3D and Muir really captures their different voices. And speaking of voices - I loved Gideon's voice! On the behalf of all chronically unable to keep their pathetic attempts at crude jokes inside people, and on behalf of all the tumbllerinas, I fully enjoyed her crass, casual, yet eloquent narration. My favorite character, though, from all the way back in chapter 2, was Harrow. I guess I'm a sucker for the cruel-surface-yet-highly-vounerable-inside trope. I mean, looking back at my favourite characters over time, it does ring true. But again, my favorite part of stories are the characters, and characters are boring when not interacting. It's in the dynamic. And, BOY, did I love Gideon and Harrow's dynamic! I won't say too much on this apart from that their dynamic really, in a strange way, reminds me of my fiancée and I (don't worry, not in the hatred part, I promise!). Harrow, much like my fiancée, is very practical and highly prone to planing everything. She takes things very seriously, and is prone to putting all responsibility onto herself, having a hard time accepting that others can be as capable as (and sometimes even more-so) than her. Gideon, like myself, on the other hand, would never miss out on an opportunity for a joke - especially a crude one! - and sometimes has to fight to be taken seriously (as an ally and as a threat) because of this goofy persona. We both also find it wonderfully entertaining to grind people's gears, like poking a bear with a stick and running away laughing when it startles awake (fun side note: my mom has a horrendously hyperactive cat who loves to play and bite and scratch. When we visit her, my fiancée will look at me with the same disbelief each time, as I can keep myself entertained for hours acquiring scratches, messing with the animal who is more claws than cat). This is truly one of my favorite dynamics. I know I'm biased on this one, but hell it's my review!

On the note of representation: I adore how Muir wrote Gideon's sapphic attractions. Many times, when you are looking for Queer books, the Queerness takes center-stage, the book and story itself being ABOUT that Queerness. A coming-out story. Dealing with homophobia. A trans reveal used for chock value. Gideon the Ninth manages the type of sapphic representation I am ravenously starved for in books - Gideon is queer. She sees hot women. She flusters. She checks them out. But that is never what the story is ABOUT. It is as natural a part of her as casual attraction would be for any heterosexual main.

So why do I only rank this book 4/5 stars, when I have done nothing but sing its praises? Well, while I am a character reader, the plot is still important, and this is where the book staggered slightly. I have two categories of complaints: minor things that does, in the end, work, and things that I found completely tiresome. Luckily, there is only one contender in the latter category, and thus I still love this book, will be picking up the next, and will wait furiously for the final installment. Honestly, if there was a way to give a 4,5/5 I would. So what is this, in my opinion, major flaw? It's, sadly, the finale. Don't get me wrong, I loved the climax - I went straight to the shop on my lunch-break to get the next book because OMG!! - but the scene leading up to the climax was a drag to get through. I count close to 30 pages which I estimate I skipped about half of (mostly a paragraph or two at a time just to make sure I didn't miss anything important. An the chapter or so before that technically weaves into this event as well, making it feel like it dragged for even longer. I hope the end of the next one won't have this issue. The other nit-picks in plot are truly nit-picks. They work for me despite not being the 5/5 that the character interactions and setting are. Basically, I knew exactly who would be the "bad-guys" as soon as they were introduced. This isn't that big of an issue - it's an issue with media-litteracy where when you know how the mechanics of story-telling works you'll clock them. It's like checkov's gun. I also called a not-as-obvious twist before any hint that anything was amiss had even really arrived. You can blame checkov for that one too. The reason I don't find these huge issues is that they didn't really impact my enjoyment of the book. While I was pretty sure who-done-it early on, the red herrings were expertly woven into the narrative as though I could never be quite sure. I wasn't surprised at the big reveal, but it was always plausible that I was wrong. Plausible enough that I mistrusted EVERYONE at the end. And while I may have clocked who was the baddies, the motives and means (well, except that one thing) were a mystery until the reveal. And I don't know about you, but I find a well-built story to be just as satisfying when I know how it ends. It's that old cliché about destinations and journeys and whatnot.

[overdrivels]

What about something where an overwatch agent finds out reader, a fellow agent, is a vampire? Akldsjfa it's a silly ask and I'll totally understand if you might wanna skip it!

Interesting, this is another trope that I haven’t explored before. (I don’t think I’ve done a lot of the non-human tropes at all, so I hope I got this right. Uh, it’s kind of mundane, so, sorry about that. That’s the sort of person I am.)

Warning: Blood mention

Crimson Hunger

The helmet you wear clatters carelessly to the ground, followed immediately by your gloves. You hastily reach for the little refrigerator in your room where you kept your ‘food’.

It’s been two days since you’ve had anything; the mission dragged on and your rations spoiled far too quickly in the heat of the Sahara.

The small door is nearly torn off it’s hinges as you snatch one of the few dark red packets out with a shaking hand. You get up, ready to take your meal that shimmers and swirls lazily in a silver that only you can see.

The door slides open abruptly. You whirl around, ice racing in your chest as your name is called.

“Hey, I came to check on you cause you didn’t look so hot…”

Lúcio trails off, standing there as he takes in the scene, hand up in mid-greeting and mid-smile, frozen.  The light from the hall spills into your pitch dark room, highlighting you in likely unflattering ways. You both stare at each other, frozen.

That is, until the cool pack slips out of your hands, landing on the ground in front of you with a deafening ‘plop’.

The DJ’s eyes slowly slide down, and the gears slowly crank in his head. He stares at it. Recognition, then confusion, and finally, a short nervous laugh escapes him as he looks between yourself and the pack.

“Is, is that a…?”

You blink at him–a shiver goes up his spine when he sees the way your pupils change shape from sharp slits back to the familiar roundness of human irises–shuffling the discarded pack on the floor behind your feet as if it’ll make this disappear.  Your skin seems…ashen, dry. He’s never really seen you out of the armor before. It’s unsettling–you’re unsettling–you’re…

Entirely inhuman.

The color drains from his face.

“You’re a…nah, you’re not a…” Lúcio couldn’t even finish his sentence, the absurdity of the truth too hard to voice.

“A vampire, yes,” you finish all too calmly.

The jig’s up, you may as well come clean about it. Years of lying and living off lies become tiresome. You’re too aged to consider being so childish about the matter. The way the smile stays nervously glued onto his face and his breathing becoming more shallow does not escape your notice. If only…

“I’m sorry you have to find out this way. I should’ve been more careful,” you sigh. “I guess I’ve just gotten too hungry.”

You normally keep the door locked and the lights off so you could feed in solitude, but in your haste, you had forgotten one of your precautions.

Before Lúcio could even force his feet to move, you quickly add, “Don’t worry, I don’t attack humans. I don’t hate garlic. The cross doesn’t do much to me–though, there was that one time–” you chuckle to yourself, entertaining a far-off memory of being under fallen debris shaped like a crucifix and the subsequent reactions of those who found you after, “–but anyway, only Winston knows, and now you. I’m not going to hurt you or do anything, so don’t worry. Yes, I can be killed like anyone else, you don’t have to drive a stake through my heart. No, my reflection is just fine–that rumor exists because mirrors used to be made of silver, which I am allergic to. Speaking of which, the sun hurts me quite a bit, so that myth is true.”

You try to mentally continue down the list of common questions people ask you, but after the mission and your lack of sustenance, your brain wasn’t exactly working at full capacity.

“…are there any other questions I can answer?” you ask when you can come up with no more.

Lúcio’s eyes have not left the bag on the ground behind your feet, and at your question, his gaze flickers upward.

“Was I interrupting your, uh, feeding?”

Your lip rises in apparent disgust. “'Feeding’? Please, I’m not a mosquito or a bedbug.” You shudder at the thought, running your tongue across the roof of your mouth.

“Sorry!” he yelps, already taking a step back, hands waving in defense. “Didn’t mean to be rude or nothing–”

“No, no, I’m sorry. I was the rude one.” You shake your head briskly, clearing it. “It’s a perfectly reasonable question.”

You would motion for him to enter the room rather than stand out in the doorway like an awkward encounter, but then he’d be in a darkened room all alone with a member of the undead. Even you had to admit that was less than desirable. So you just let him make his choice, which was to stand there with a way out.The hunger gnaws at you, the slight feeling of a feverish desire skittered across your cool skin.

With a long look at the blood pack on the ground, you pick it up slowly. It nearly slips from your trembling fingers twice, but you try to keep your dignity about you.

“Yes. It’s been two days since I’ve eaten anything. I didn’t get a lot during the trip because it all spoiled partway through.”

Confusion is drawn all over his face as he tries to recall you ‘eating’. “So, you don’t need to, y'know, get it from someone’s neck like Dracula?”

You stifle a short laugh.

“We eat life force which is most abundant in blood. It doesn’t really matter whether we get it from a bag or a person. But having this–” you squish the bag between your fingers, “–is like having gazpacho all the time when all you want is some minestrone soup.” There is the hint of irritation in your voice that you can’t contain.

You cast Lúcio a forlorn look, and he resists the urge to cover his neck, his hair standing on end. Secretly, he’s relieved when you turn you attention back to your unopened meal, but that thought is quickly squashed when he realizes that you’re a comrade and he should not be thinking of you as a monster, not hen you’ve sacrificed so much to help them.

You mutter something under your breath about declining birth rates and Omnics.

“Don’t worry, if you’re scared, call for McCree. He has a bit of experience dealing with…people like me. Oh yeah, I forgot. He knows, too.”

He doesn’t miss the way you pause when you say ‘people’. You’re not…a person. You’re a creature of the night. Conventionally, a monster.

A monster who has risked life and limb to protect the members of Overwatch and bring peace to a growingly tumultuous world, that is. It’s unfair for him to be afraid when all this time you’ve been fighting alongside them.

He takes a step forward, steeling his nerves.

You’re still his friend. And friends help friends.

You could practically see his thought process and the conclusion he tentatively arrives at, if the way he rubs his arm then neck is any indication.

“Well, y'know, I could–”

You hold up a hand. “Stop right there. I appreciate the thought, but don’t. If you’re not okay with it, you don’t have to offer.”

“But…”

“It’s okay, I survived years without fresh blood, so a few more isn’t going to kill me.”

He gulp, his newfound mettle quickly fleeing in the face of your objection, but he holds fast. “I don’t mind giving you a little something every once in a while, I mean, you’ve earned it kicking butt out there. Just, don’t turn me?”

You bark a short laugh–it’s not impossible, but you’d had to explain to him the mechanics behind how difficult that would be some day–and cut yourself off when your vision swims just a bit.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You give him a weary, but the best reassuring grin you could before waving him away. “Now shoo so I can eat in peace. It’s messy.”

That’s a lie, you’ve had decades to clean up your eating habits, but it’s more out of consideration for the young man than anything, who hesitantly nods.

“Okay, just let me know if I can help. Um, enjoy your meal?”

“Will do, thanks.”

You wait for the door to close, plunge your room into complete darkness. The image of that final uneasy look Lúcio gives you lingers only half a minute in your mind before you tear your fangs into the pack, driven by a maddening hunger.

It’s lukewarm, and so utterly unsatisfying.

Maybe you’ll take him up on his offer soon.

[dweemeister]

Frozen II (2019)

Six years ago, Chris Buck and Jennifer Lee directed Frozen, a film that became a pop culture phenomenon destined to induce musical madness for anyone who needed to babysit a child. I contended in 2013, as I do now, that Frozen had the best-looking CGI for a Walt Disney Animation Studios film at that point in Disney history and its musical score by Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez a great asset. Let me get a few other unpopular opinions (at least, on tumblr) out of the way now. As the 2010s close, Frozen still has the best musical score and original song (“Let it Go”) of any Walt Disney Animation Studios film released in the twenty-first century (the century is still young). Due to overexposure and criticisms borne out of bad faith, social media turned on Frozen quickly. But I think one thing yours truly and Frozen’s harshest critics can agree upon is how little did we know that Frozen would be as successful as it has become, how it crossed cultural and linguistic barriers that other films in the recent Disney animated canon could not.

When its sequel was announced by now-disgraced John Lasseter (Lasseter served as producer but is uncredited on Frozen II), the weight of expectations hoisted upon Buck and Lee (who wrote the screenplay) must have been tremendous. As Lasseter often said in the mid-2010s when announcing a Disney or Pixar sequel, he claimed that a Disney or Pixar sequel only comes to fruition when, “the filmmakers who created the original have created an idea that is so good that it’s worthy of [the] characters.” Frozen II is a gorgeously-animated film that misfires on its characterizations and plotting, but deserves partial credit for attempting to communicate a worthy message to those children – some who are just now navigating the confusing years of teenagehood – who fell in love with and have repeatedly watched the 2013 original.

Time has passed since we last saw our heroes, Anna (Kristen Bell) and Elsa (Idina Menzel) of Arendelle. Little has changed in Arendelle in those years, with Kristoff and his reindeer Sven (Jonathan Groff as both) presumably still harvesting ice and Olaf (Josh Gad) basking in the fact he has a magical coat of permafrost. One evening, Elsa (and only Elsa) hears a siren in the distance, emanating from the north’s Enchanted Forest – which is surrounded by an impassable mist. A substantial but manageable disaster disrupts life in Arendelle shortly after the mysterious call, forcing the protagonists towards the Enchanted Forest. There, they meet a lost Arendellian military unit that has been in constant warfare with the Northuldra tribe since around the time Elsa and Anna’s parents have been missing. Elsa and Anna help the factions agree to an armistice. Amid this peace, Elsa travels even further north to confront her family’s past to understand her unsettling present.

Frozen II’s greatest failing is, surprisingly, not Jennifer Lee’s tiresome insistence on impossibly frequent humor and dialogue that sounds as if the characters have been airlifted from contemporary America – though there is plenty of both in this film. Instead, it is an elementary building block to any art that attempts a narrative: understandable, meaningful motivations. With Elsa, she journeys northward on little else but a hunch and bedtime stories imparted to her during her childhood – flimsy reasoning at best. For Anna, she apparently has become paralyzed in the fear of disrupting how she and her sister have been interacting with each other and their lives in Arendelle. Lee needs to imbue Anna with depth here, as it is unclear exactly what Anna fears losing most. Kristoff accompanies Anna and Elsa because he wants to offer marriage to the former, doing so with the competency of a Sous-chef asked to perform a coronary artery bypass. My apologies to any Sous-chefs with medical experience. And, oh yes, Olaf goes along because Disney needs to make that sweet green.

Lee also cannot help but pack her screenplays with exposition. If this is any indication of how intelligent she thinks moviegoers are, the results are not flattering to anybody. There are worthy ideas in this screenplay, yet they are obscured by plot contrivances needed to position characters in certain spots that reeks of narrative convenience or thematic cold feet. An idea that seems to have been inspired by Avatar: The Last Airbender does not inspire additional confidence, but perhaps a few guffaws and rolled eyes. The Northuldra tribe are inspired by the Sámi people, an indigenous people native to northern Norway, Sweden, and Finland as well as far northwestern Russia. Frozen II dances around the idea of having something to say about imperialism – in terms of cultural/racial supremacy, coercive diplomacy by gun barrel or bayonet, environmental exploitation – but declines to do so.

Elsewhere, Olaf’s characterization is still that of the buck-toothed, boisterous goofball that he is. But unlike the first Frozen where Olaf exuded childish silliness, he is spouting philosophical claptrap that will pass over the heads of children. Frozen II is preening here: “Hey, parents showing your children Frozen II! You’re smarter than your grade schooler; isn’t that hilarious!?”

This contempt extends to a late scene where Lee’s screenplay has Elsa scoff at a reference to “Let It Go”. The moment, brief as it is, is as perplexing as it is infuriating. Assuming that it is supposed to be played for laughs, why would Chris Buck and Lee think that those who despise 2013′s Frozen care to watch this sequel? Why would they think that, for the children who adored Frozen upon its original release and since then (while probably encountering few people bashing on the film), that moment would be the slightest bit humorous? Considering the number of people – even if it is only one person in the world (I’d wager everything including the kitchen sink that the actual number is higher) – who found inspiration in “Let It Go” and its use in narrative and character development context, how could they be so disrespectful to those individuals as well as Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez? Perhaps this is rabblerousing over something insignificant, but it seems to exemplify a level of contempt the filmmakers have for elements from the previous film and, potentially, the audience willing to watch the sequel.

Every Walt Disney Animation Studios film released since Winnie the Pooh (2011) has treated tropes introduced in the older Disney animated canon in similar fashion. Disney history, even for a film made six years ago, is a punchline, not to be celebrated or engaged with critically. The Walt Disney Company of 2019 is one preferring to bury its past (this also includes the companies it has acquired). If there, like in the early 2000s, is a war for the animation studio’s soul, it is playing out in how these films are being made.

Robert Lopez and Kristen Anderson-Lopez’s sufficient musical score is worse, title-by-title, when compared against the 2013 original. “All Is Found” feels out of place in this film because of its orchestration – this is the only song in either Frozen film using Nordic instruments and inspired by Nordic folk music. As interesting as this song is lyrically (and for how those lyrics play into what eventually occurs in this film), it suffers from the same problem plaguing “Frozen Heart” from the first film in that they are just too musically detached from the showtune style that the Lopezes bring to Frozen II. “Some Things Never Change” lays out the subtext and the film’s dramatic irony too obviously, and Groff’s silly vocals to imitate what Sven would sound like is a juvenile decision. Shortly after, “Into the Unknown” – which features the voice of AURORA as the mysterious Dies Irae-like voice that only Elsa can hear – is sung by Elsa with bombast. As talented as Menzel is, “Into the Unknown” is overproduced, contains an excessive amount of vocalizations, and has no business being the third song sung within the opening twenty or twenty-five minutes of a film. The early placement of “Into the Unknown” creates pacing issues in the film’s first half from which it almost does not recover.

In the film’s second half, we find Kristoff a frustrated figure, unable to find a moment to pop Anna the question. In the film’s acid trip of a musical number, Jonathan Groff, as Kristoff, is given a 1980s power ballad named “Lost in the Woods” for curious reasons. “Lost in the Woods”, for reindeer-related reasons, is the most entertaining number in Frozen II, but, like “All Is Found”, makes no musical sense – it is framed as a homage to multiple 1980s power ballad music videos that one could have found on MTV in that decade. Maybe the part of me that is irritated by the swathe of 1980s nostalgia sweeping American popular culture right now is being hypercritical, but I will acknowledge that – when listened to divorced of narrative context – “Lost in the Woods” is a fantastic musical homage. Frozen II’s thematic parallel to “Let It Go” is actually “Show Yourself”, not “Into the Unknown”. It is yet another song demanding much from Menzel and has been subordinated by, presumably, Disney marketers and executives.

Before mentioning the film’s final song, the Lopezes should be praised for steering the plot away from stormy waters, lending a needed course correction to an otherwise hapless screenplay. “All Is Found”, “Some Things Never Change”, and “Show Yourself” provide a necessary musical boost that might otherwise have contained even more tedious exposition. To Frozen II’s credit, the story’s second half is unexpectedly, but never unjustifiably, melancholic. The best song on this soundtrack just so happens to provide the greatest narrative boost to Frozen II in the film’s darkest moments. “The Next Right Thing”, echoing a line repeated a few times from different characters, is a musical and thematic triumph. The song, eschewing lyrical/poetic meter (this is a radical decision; very few songwriters in the history of Broadway musicals and Hollywood would dare to even compose one song with no identifiable lyrical meter), literalizes how one carries on in the midst of depression and loss. Bell cries rather than sings some of the song’s lines, but, given the lyrics, it is deserved.

Through "The Next Right Thing” and what transpires to the film’s conclusion, Anna and Elsa – in their distinct ways – learn how to answer the most baffling questions children and adults will ever face. How does one regain their bearings when one’s peers and loved ones all seem to be changing into something unrecognizable? How can the tragic decisions of the past be resolved depending on who made those decisions? I’m not saying Frozen II is an articulately-crafted drama examining the human condition, rising to the heights reached by cinema’s most celebrated auteurs. but it is at least attempting to pose difficult questions to its audience – and yes, to the children and teenagers that have and will grow up with Anna and Elsa and company – that numerous other animation films from other major American studios would dare not attempt. The bar may not be high, but the filmmakers – and yes, the Lopezes – provide a small, yet necessary, lift.

For the Walt Disney Animation Studios, what has been deemed the “Disney Revival” in some quarters has been predicated on the company’s financial strength over the 2010s, ignoring how distractingly metatextual and behaviorally contemporary these recent films have been. If one is looking for 2010s animated films reflecting and extolling humanity’s goodness and/or affirming cultural and ideological empathy, do not look to the major American animation studios for these qualities. In some future year, may those audiences looking back on the films that they cherished as children take inspiration in Anna and Elsa’s courage when facing life’s uncertainties. May they teach a few grizzled movie fans to see something that only they could because of their youth.

My rating: 6/10

^ Based on my personal imdb rating. My interpretation of that ratings system can be found here.

[jonboudposts]

The Tyranny of Opinion Part 1: I Demand You Debate Me

There are some people you cannot debate with because quite simply, they do not debate.  They just talk.

Such people have a list of issues they want to talk about and have already formed un-movable opinions on. Like being on a bad date, they will try to steer any conversation toward a subject they know about – or think they do – then try to outdo their ‘opponent’ on the subject.  However, when they can’t, the switch comes in quick to either the next subject or sometimes full-on conspiracy theory.

They also like being offensive, at least to a certain type of person.  They imagine pissing off ‘the Libs’ makes them edgy and rebellious (still don’t get the girl though).  It is of top consideration to be offensive to minorities and those least likely to fight back.  Being offensive is the goal; having good reason to be is irrelevant.

One example in my life was someone I used to see through work.  We would discuss various bits about films or games (his interest, not mine) and occasionally serious stuff like emotions.  After this person moved routes, a few months passed before I saw them again.  The next meeting was quite a shock; they had become preoccupied with alt-right talking points and hating the usual tropes (feminism, Islam) and proclaiming the need for violent action to protect ‘our’ (Christian) values.

In our following meetings, this person displayed classic traits – throwing a ‘point’ at me, shouting with faux-anger, interrupting mid-answer, uncomfortably putting up with my response that completely defeated their argument; then ignoring it and jumping to the next claim. Most of these claims were ludicrous; for instance it was claimed that in the Labour Party manifesto of 2015, there was a proposal that gay males would be forcibly paired up with single fertile women in order to produce the future labour force.  Now, in all seriousness; please tell me how to ‘debate’ with that.

My initial response was to speak to some mutual friends of ours and ask if they could explain this behaviour, before suggesting we should perhaps stage an intervention or call Prevent. I have still not decided.

However, some people make a career out of this kind of bullshit and not just Alex Jones.  A well-know name at the moment is Jordan Petersen, a Hackademic who likes to clothe his woman-hate and disgust with a world not interested in praising the mediocre white man constantly with a sheen of pseudo-intellectualism and big concept waffle.  Plus, as many articles written by far more intelligent and academic people tan me will tell you, his theories are bunk; mostly based on intentional misinterpretation of Marx or Derrida, coupled with the resentment only a rich white man can cultivate toward anyone with alternative ideas that are directly threatening to privilege.

He has decided cultural Marxism is why we are all so miserable and those obnoxious and tiresome young men like my example above are just misunderstood and alienated because of post-modernism and feminism.  Sadly, organisations like the BBC and Channel 4 think him worthy of attention too.  As he does not really have an argument but he does have loads of confidence and is able to speak for long periods, this makes him, in the modern interpretation, a good debater.  For the desperate need within the media for something not overtly murderous or obviously racist from the right, he gets taken seriously.  Some may complain I am only making a personal attack – I am, because there is nothing else there.

There is a big difference between free speech and people who just shout for attention.  At the risk of cutting people out of public life, there is no morale imperative to provide a platform to hate mongers and cranks and we know perfectly well this weakens society rather than strengthens it.

Petersen appeals to my friend because he is one of those figureheads who produces easy answers to complex problems, gives them back their hero narrative and tells them there is not need to change, while also backing up the nation that those who fail at the system should be condemned – so their adulation of him amounts to pure self-hatred really.  What they most strongly have in common is their convenient outrage and complete disinterest in answers or alternative opinions.  They just want someone to notice them.

Also, there is no work done here.  There is simply the expressing of opinion without footnotes.  No research, just feeling.  Those hating immigrants or women or trans people rarely quote from analysis and when such analysis is put to them, with all the facts that contradict their negative opinion of immigrants’ or women or trans people, they often just resort to denying the validity of the research with no evidence to back this up (seeing any themes here?).  Evidence is who Dave had in his cab last week or the ‘fact’ that one midwife at the hospital during the birth of their child was rude – and bloody foreign.

This kind of behaviour is simply not worthy of attention or contemplation (it is also dangerous). The lack of willingness to do any work but imagine you can just elbow into the same sphere is deplorable.  Derrida developed deconstruction; Petersen wrote an opinion book called 12 Rules for Life.  I read about both on the internet.

If anyone thinks I am suggesting ‘excluding some people’ from public life, let me ask you this; have you ever really spend time listening (online, TV or in life) to anyone jabbering conspiracy theories or just re-writing history, all for the sake of free speech?  If you have heard such people, how long did you listen?

If you were sitting at dinner and someone started ranting about 9/11 being an inside job, the moon landing not really happening, or no one dying in the Grenfell Tower, would you really just sit there?  Or would you prefer to see this person given a platform at a university?  Should we all engage for the sake of ‘preserving free speech’?

Well, you can if you want to but I have better things to do.  Plus, I do not think this shows any dedication to ideals of freedom; it shows a society falling apart, with no idea which direction to go.  With a lazy media looking for content and damaged people looking for someone to blame, this just creates a toxic public life filled with broken men and self-hating women screaming at the youth and calling it engagement.  In the absence of any new culture or forward momentum, this is the kind of thing that occurs – a faux sense of pride in your emptiness; a conviction life was better before Group A showed up (even though you were not born before Group A showed up); or more simply, old wives tales gone mad.  It really comes down to resentment toward anyone with the guts and tenacity to not put up with the shit deal given to them and to strive to make things better for everyone; rather than stand back while late-period capitalism implodes and hope they do not get any rain down on their house.

Now more than ever in my lifetime, there is an opportunity to change the present; a time characterised by insecurity and fear.  More working class people are beginning to realise they can stand up for themselves through trade unions or co-ops of various types and in the process, learn real working class history while doing the best thing you can with history – using it to construct a better future for yourself and those around you.  Let’s ditch the snake oil salesman and conspiracy theories and put our shoulder into this; then you will have some real power.

(In future articles I will write about hate speech, attention seeking-verses-argument and why taking the piss out of people is legitimate).