#Long expositional tirades.

[realswolestrider]

Long expositional tirade.

Please.

[Text is bright orange and bolded, but has been Edited for accessibility.]

Sorry about that. Funny slash fucked up part of having progeny in any form - they take after you. Every day I think, surely at this point, Rose's gotta be outta ways to stealthily forcefeed me my own patented brand of nuclear orange medicine, and every day I am simultaneously pleasantly surprised and mildly horrified to be proven wrong.

Anyway. I got my fuckin' pantaloons back and we're done with the thinly veiled psychological warfare for the time being. So I got a couple minutes to give the people what they want.

Normally I'd have concerns about giving away all my plans, let alone in such dramatic detail. Oh, you're a mastermind supervillain and you're just gonna give the hero all the information in a neatly packaged two minute monologue? You're makin' some big brain moves the rest of us couldn't even hope to understand.

I'm sure you're thinking the same thing. "Yes, Dirk." You hiss through your teeth while jacking it furiously to your own literary competence. "Fall prey to your own ego for the umpteenth time this week and hand me the key to your downfall on a silver platter." And I'm like. Okay. With an enigmatic level of placidity.

I'm doing stuff. Things. Anticipating your dissatisfaction with such a memey non-answer, I continue on. To be blunt, as of recently I've been doing jack shit of fuck all, except waiting around. I am an irrelevant number of Earth C's revolutions along its axis into this trip across the Virgo Supercluster to find a needle in a haystack - the perfect planet for my plans.

It's a lot like picking one particular grain of sand outta the Sahara, but with way more grains, and billions of miles between each one. So as you can imagine, it ain't exactly a mentally stimulating process.

You see, on the relevant scales of spacetime, life is a fluke. An anomaly. Calling it a rare occurrence is being generous. It's not just the size of the planet, or the presence of water. The incubation period for successful generations of the most widely accepted philosophical definition of life is longer than my dick, and twice as dangerous. For a species to develop a level of cognitive awareness enough to question its place in the universe, a lot of shit has to happen. A Rube Goldberg Fractal of an infinite amount of Rube Goldberg Machines.

Sometimes, life gets pretty damn far. Take a trip to Chicxulub in the Yucatán. Find a gift shop there, and buy a velociraptor plushie to the impact crater of the K-pg extinction.

You'll look like a fucking moron, because velociraptors went extinct long before then.

If the variants of life on Earth C are crabs in a bucket, humans and trolls just happened to be the crabs at the very top who got their claws around the rim and got the fuck outta Crab Dodge before everything went pear-shaped.

The mere fact any amount of us survived the Sburb extinction event boggles the mind. Natural generation is clumsy and random. Many times human and troll alike were held back due to biological or sociological flaws.

Intelligent design ain't fuckin' real.

But what if it was?

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

A Budding Romance

Hey!!! I just reread one of your fics- I forgot the name but it's the one where Janus could hear the narration, I really enjoyed that and was wondering if you'd be willing to write something similar with another self-aware side? – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none!

Pairings: intrulogical

Word Count: 1237

Roman has a pleasant morning observing his two favorite nerds flirting with each other.

It starts as simply as it could, perhaps: in the living room, with a handful of the Sides spread around the couch, the floor, and the chairs. Logan and Virgil sit at opposite ends of the couch, Remus sprawled at their feet.

“Bit exposition-heavy for an opening, isn’t it?”

“Huh?” Virgil pulls off one of his headphones. “Did you say something Princey?”

Roman looks up from his notebook and shakes his head. “Just talking about narrative development, my dear Emo, don’t mind me.”

Virgil looks at him suspiciously for another moment before going back to his phone. Roman glances around to make sure no one else is suspiciously eyeing him before looking back down at his notebook.

“You know, when you say it like that, it makes it sound far worse than it actually is.”

Thankfully, for his sake, Remus doesn’t perk his head up at the sound of making things worse than they are.

Roman rolls his eyes and goes back to scratching words along the page with a pen that really needs to be replaced, he has to reactivate it every other word.

“It’s a perfectly serviceable pen, you’re just jealous.”

“You know,” Remus remarks, not looking up from his assortment of gears and pipe cleaners, “if you want to borrow a viscera quill—“

“I do not, in fact, but thank you so much for the offer.”

Remus snickers. Logan looks up from his own notes, raising an eyebrow. “You have a viscera quill?”

Roman groans silently as Remus’s grin widens. “Oh, Lolo, I thought you’d never ask.”

“Now he’s done it,” Roman mumbles under his breath as Remus starts to go on and on about how he developed a quill that writes using the effluvia of various creatures— “wait, wait, wait, what the hell does ‘effluvia’ mean?”

Remus pauses in his tirade long enough for Logan to look over. “It’s bodily fluids.”

“Like shit and piss!”

“…technically, I don’t believe fecal matter counts as a ‘fluid,’ but…yes, among others. Saliva, blood, mucus, any sort of…”

“Body juice!”

“So why not just say bodily fluids?”

“It doesn’t sound gross enough,” Remus pouts, to which Logan only looks…mildly bemused about, “but wait, why are you asking about it?”

“Neither of us said it.”

“Came up in a story,” Roman says easily, which is technically not a lie so Janus doesn’t show up, “don’t mind me.”

Remus gives him one more strange look before going back to what he was talking about. Roman just settles further into the chair, a small smile blooming on his face as he watches the two of them talk. Logan’s grip on his notebook is slowly relaxing. Remus has all but abandoned the pile of scraps in favor of sitting up properly. Even Virgil glances at the two of them, does a double-take, and looks over at Roman, eyes wide.

Roman just shrugs with a very ‘what can you do?’ smile and keeps watching. Remus’s back is almost fully to him now, but he can see the way his shoulders rise and fall that his face must be as animated as ever.

”This is good for them,” Roman mumbles, “they’ve not gotten enough chances to be weird about the same thing.”

This is true: more often than not, when it comes to matters of discussion, the two of them are on opposing sides of the argument. Logan, as the steadfast voice of reason, which is something he doesn’t get nearly enough credit for—

Roman snorts.

—is often quite directly responsible for reining in Remus’s more…let’s say, ‘unorthodox’ suggestions.

”Nothing Remus does could be considered orthodox, that is true.”

“Aw, thanks, Roro.”

Logan chuckles, still looking at Remus with that softly fond look he denies having every single time one of them notices it. When Remus is done making sickeningly sappy faces at Roman, he turns back and fully freezes mid-word at the sight of it.

“I-uh—“

“Go on,” Logan says quietly, “I was enjoying that.”

“Uh—um—well, uh, I think that the, um—“

“Watch his ears,” Roman whispers, “they’ll start to go red.”

Sure enough, the very tips of Remus’s ears go pink, then a bright red, then a deeper red as he continues to stumble over his words. Roman leans to the side, hand over his face to cover his own snickering mouth. Logan just waits patiently, letting Remus try and get himself together, before taking pity on him and lightly prompting the last thought he’d been sharing. Remus takes the out and starts describing…whatever it was that they were talking about.

“Wow, way to keep a hold of the plot.”

But as becomes abundantly clear, the specifics of their conversation don’t matter. Rather, it’s the way Logan keeps straying his hand toward his notebook every so often, just to write down one little thing, before returning his full focus to Remus. It’s the way Remus will get caught off-guard by Logan’s expression and have to look away to refocus himself. And it’s the way that neither of them have noticed that Roman and Virgil have given up all pretenses of minding their own business and are now openly staring at the two of them.

They catch each other’s eyes and have a wordless conversation of their own, before Virgil shakes his head and sinks out. A second later, a text appears on Roman’s phone saying keep me updated.

Now, whether or not they ever decide to let Remus and Logan know they have a group chat devoted to the cute things the two of them do remains to be seen, but this is definitely a prime opportunity for sneaking an adorable picture of the two of them.

“Ooh, great idea.” Roman sneaks a shot of Logan smiling softly at a blushy Remus. “That’s a keeper.”

Within the bounds of Roman’s role as a Side, he so rarely gets to enjoy the softer aspects of his responsibilities. The majority of his time is taken up by being Creativity, which is of course his main role, but the glamor of it faded long ago. ‘Creativity’ is more drafting, redrafting, the grind of editing, than it is the actual performance of the results. And, of course, there are the parts of it that rasp a little too harshly against the more sensitive parts of oneself. To create is to be vulnerable, and that only gets so much easier.

Passion helps, of course, but passion is as fickle as candle flame if not properly nurtured. Passion, Romance, Ego, tragedy walks in their footsteps as easily as breathing. It speaks more toward the intensity of the emotions and experiences rather than the positivity or negativity. And for Roman, who lives and breathes as the embodiment of it, it can be difficult to catch his breath.

But of course, there are moments of softness. Like this one, where the two of them are sitting in their own little world and talking about nothing at all. The pleasant lightness of it all floats through the air, sweet as a summer breeze. So Roman can soak in it, for just a little while, as these moments grow few and far between.

“And whose fault is that?”

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

[safetynot9uaranteed]

How we respond to crimes against humanity says a lot about ourselves

"I hate brown people"

A powerful "I" statement that proclaims one's feelings position and whole identity. Simultaneously vulnerable self exposition but with boldness and integrity. Brevity is the soul of wit and this simple statement has far reaching implications for both personal relationships and large scale political policy. Said in the right context this statement can be a powerful condemnation of inexcusable action and self expression all in 4 words.

The leftist Twitter (complex issue) rant

An unfocused tirade often just bragging about surface level knowledge of politics and history to partially justify inexcusable actions. No clear decisiveness, long winded and verbose to say very little. Verbose ranting hides expression of feelings and only serves to blur ethical lines. Welcomes negative emotions and inaction simultaneously.

[knights-unwelcommentary]

low key the beta kids become narrative devices after the scratch, that's why they don't seem to progress much despite having all the time in the world. They're there to provide exposition, be the deus ex machina for the alpha kids that are trapped in a sort of limbo (by delivering the missing pieces of their medium to them and pulling off the retcon) and distract from Caliborn's takeover

Do YOU have what it takes to humor this bold new storyteller, a young man in peak command over his epic struggle to produce vaguelly recognizable shapes? Can YOU endure his ill-tempered, hyperbolic sentence fragments long enough to reach an interspersed series of sub-sub-intermissions through which, while our new narrator pauses to gather his thoughts, our cast of quasi-reunited heroes may resume their intrepid march toward the end of Homestuck proper? And can YOU keep this on the down-low, so Caliborn may continue to believe he had commandeered the medium absolutely, while we privately return to the narrative between his miserable tirades? It can be our secret. He doesn't even need to know!

[ace-and-ranty]

I just saw someone call El a himbo hero.

I’m sorry. El? El who spends the entire trilogy going off in long-winded tirades examining every strategic angle of a situation? El who is our primary source of exposition and information? El who is pissed constantly?

That El?

[write-a-bad-romance]

Holy Woman (Ikevamp Angst Week 2020)

Ao3 link: Here

Prompt: “Character Death” and “Loss”

Words: 2761

Made for Ikevamp Angst Week Day 8 and 9. Tagging @ikevampangstweek​.

This work features mild spoilers for Jean’s route and a genderbent (female) version of Jean d’Arc.

dulce et decorum est pro patria mori 

In the dark of the night, she ran amidst the clamor of gunshots and shouts far behind her. The blizzard became her cover —she was deaf to the entire world save for the ominous howling of the wind right beside her ears.

Her long silken hair, free from its bindings, trailed like spun silk as she bounded across the snow. With nothing to guide her, not even the hand of God Himself, she escaped into the wasteland.

Like a specter she vanished, abandoning her crown and a condemned history behind her.

"Drat!" Charles cursed, shaking his head as the horse finally breathed its last.

And when I'm so close to the town too! This can't be happening! Last night's blizzard was horrendous; he had to take shelter at the dilapidated empty house, horse and cart, and all. Delivering every crate containing vials of serum in tip-top shape had been his objective.

But there was little he could hope for, not when he had a horse with a broken leg.

"No, no, no." Tears pricked in the corner of his eyes. Years carrying corpses and dying men back and forth on the battlefield made him immune to the sight of mortality. But the combination of fatigue after days on the road and lack of sleep was more than enough to break his already dwindling spirits.

"No," he repeated, slapping himself on both cheeks. "This won't do. Think of the townspeople. They're waiting."

With heavy steps and an even heavier heart, Charles sat by the side of the road. It would take at least five hours to reach his destination on foot. Gears turned inside his exhausted head as he devised a plan: hide the crates inside the house, walk along the road, and see if there are any houses nearby. Walk up to their door, knock, smile and ask them if you can borrow their cart —

And risk leaving the crates unsupervised. Right. No one would have the mind to somehow spirit away crates full of vials of dubious substance, but Charles dreaded losing his precious cargo if that meant another three days' ride to the Medical Center.

What a conundrum! Charles's idle hand grabbed fistfuls of snow, feeling the raw chill bite into his skin. The sensation helped alleviate his fidgety nerves.  

Besides, there's no guarantee I'm not going to get caught in another blizzard when running around seeking help. The rose-haired man sighed, scratching at the memento wound around his neck. What should I do now? Stay put and pray for a miracle to come my way?

Back at the battlefield, in the flapping tents where prayers die on the mouth of soldiers reaching to grasp at specters of their beloved, Charles lost his faith in the Almighty. H is more cynical colleagues joked that God had been replaced by the emperor, his enemy monarchs, and whatever whims they impose on us poor, downtrodden common folk.

It wasn't until his mother pestered him that Charles once again re-adopted a habit of praying. Ironic, considering his mother's pragmatism towards their soiled family business. War was capable of moving the smallest of things, it seemed.  

Charles realized he had been dozing when he felt something approach. The tremor he felt underneath his feet signaled that it was another cart, most likely heavy duty. The young doctor jumped to his feet, regretting it immediately as he felt himself swoon and nearly losing his balance.

"Excuse me!" He waved at the cart, a figure clad in a dark blue cloak from head to toe at the reins. "Are you in any way passing through the next town?" Charles yelled.

The stranger stopped his cart right in front of Charles, silent. Worried he didn't hear him the first time, Charles composed himself and cleared his throat.

"Will you, by any chance, be passing through the town? The one with a mountain abbey?" He pronounced his words carefully, his heart beating in trepidation as the veiled stranger didn't seem to respond. He could wait for another cart to pass by but damn if he let this chance slip.

The figure nodded, and a deep-toned, feminine voice reverberated through the crisp, winter air.

"I am heading to that town." The woman answered severely. "How may I be of service?"

Charles was perplexed by her manner of speech but approached her nonetheless. "My apologies. I was transporting some cargo on my own cart when the blizzard came, and I had to take shelter in that empty house over there."

The cloaked woman regarded him in silence as Charles struggled to resume his explanation. Did she find him suspicious? Was she to be suspected, herself? Countless scenarios rushed through Charles' restless mind as he motioned vaguely at the dilapidated building.

"And then my horse broke one of its ankles—"

“Your horse?”

Charles was ready to receive whatever tirade the woman was prepared to discharge, judging from her pressing tone. But to his surprise, the woman was already jumping off her cart, the wind knocking back her veil.

Revealing a burn scar mark in the shape of a spark over her right eye, concealed in part by her thick, lavender bangs. It extended across the side of her face and neck, disappearing underneath her collar. Her left eye was hidden under a black eyepatch, revealing a scarce expanse of alabaster skin.

Charles' face grew red as he realized that he was staring. Her dark, empty orb seemed to suggest that she too had noticed. Quickly, Charles apologized.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to stare—" but the woman had already turned towards the house.

"Show me the horse," she commanded.

Swallowing his guilt away, Charles brushed invisible snow off his pants and followed suit. "Right," he coughed. "This way, Madame."

"So, you've met Sister Joanna." Monsieur Faust concluded. He was the town's only doctor, a strapping young man in his late twenties. He had on him shapely, robust shoulders and intelligent eyes behind a pair of square, thin-framed glasses.

The only aspect Charles found disconcerting about his temporary senior was his penchant for sardonic, offhand remarks that seemed to serve as a barrier between him and the vernacular crowd.

"Sister?" Charles exclaimed, having signed the last of the transport papers. "Is she part of the convent?"

"No, not at all." Faust chuckled. "In fact, I believe it's been years since anybody's ever seen her inside the church or taking part in any religious gathering."

Charles recalled how the lean woman helped him move the dead horse out of the barn and buried the horse by a nearby tree. He was still amazed by the woman's astounding demonstration of strength as she loaded the bulky crates onto her own cart.

"It was the nuns who called her that during her stay at the abbey. The nickname carried long after she left," The older man continued. "I was the doctor who treated her when she first arrived a year ago."

Those burn scars, Charles gulped, amethyst eyes still boring into his own long after their parting. "What does she do now?"

"She's the town's handywoman, for lack of a better word." Faust's nimble hands arranged the vials into neat rows inside a cabinet. "She accepts odd jobs every now and then, though you're more likely to see her at the weapons shop by the square. She seemed to have lived quite close to the military at some point."

The man's curious pause before rolling the word military didn't escape Charles. Whether it was said out of genuine disdain for their country's warmongering exploits or twisted sympathy for his own history, he didn't know.

"Other times, especially outside winter, you can find her attending to flower beds just outside of town," Faust muttered. "She would bring back different-colored flowers in vases and deliver them to the flower shop. You'll see what I mean quite soon."

"Flowers? The military?" Charles was at a loss for words as the man slew exposition after exposition in rapid succession. And he had pegged him to be the quiet sort! "I take it she must have been living quite illustriously before she came to town."

"That she is," The other man nodded. "Quite the character, isn't she? Sister Joanna does what she likes, regardless of what others see."

Charles decided to take a stroll after lunch. Now that he's done resting and arranging his belongings at the inn, it was time to explore the rustic town.

The innkeeper was an amiable man with ivory hair and crimson eyes, not much older than Faust. The flower shop the doctor mentioned was adjacent to the inn's lobby, and the owner of both establishments introduced himself as Vlad. Not Vladimir, not Vladislav, just Vlad.

Charles detected something beyond mere eccentricity beneath the man's lighthearted disposition. There was a noble air to him that made Charles suspect Vlad was related to one of the hussar princes the Continental army overthrew seven years ago.

The man responded to Charles' prodding joke with a subtly accented, good-humored reply. "I hail from Targoviste! But now that you mention it, my family is descended from a long line of voivodes from the Middle Ages . "

Charles decided not to pry further lest he be turned to fertilizer for the pansies at the inn's backyard.

His feet took him to the town square, where Sister Joanna's weapons shop supposedly was if he remembered correctly.

In the center was a sizable statue of a peasant woman, her arm cradling a bundle of wheat to her bosom. The other arm was reaching towards the sky, a long strip of sash winding around the limb like a vine. Charles found it so lifelike it could've been fluttering along with the icy wind.

Sister Joanna was standing by the base. Her slacks visible below her dark robes and sinewy stature made it easy to confuse her with a man. Charles walked towards the lone woman, intending to thank her.

“Sister Joanna!” He called excitedly. “Sister Joann—”

Charles fell quiet as he observed the woman pressing her hands firmly pressed together in front of her breast, long fingers pointing towards the statue in silent prayer.

It took a moment before she finally turned to look at Charles. The young man noticed a bundle of freshly picked snowdrops and hellebore resting at the statue's foot.

Charles found himself speechless as he was once again met with Sister Joanna's hollow gaze.

"Yes?" Her dry voice penetrated the once-welcome stillness. "Do you need anything?"

It wasn't that Charles was unaccustomed to make small talk with women. It was Sister Joanna's mannerism that had put the younger man at unease. He collected himself and knelt down, paying heed to spare her some distance.

"I think I should pray, too." He smiled, hoping to reduce the tension. "But I don't have any flowers on me. Too bad."

"Do as you see fit." The woman replied impassively.

Charles' heart regained its composed pace after he offered hushed words of prayer for the souls of his fallen comrades. He rose and beamed at the indomitable woman, whom he caught staring.

Sister Joanna wasn't the least bit unfazed when Charles's youthful face broke into a grin. "Do you know who you're even praying for?"

His eyes returned to inspect the statue, the granite matron towering over the strange couple. "This statue was built in honor of the fallen soldiers and their widows, was it not?"

Sister Joanna didn't respond, seemingly absorbed in the statue's presence as well.

"The Emperor marched through these passes on the way to claim his first victory. Thousands of the men died in the expedition, and they were laid to rest by the abbey."

Charles stepped forward to run his palm over the statue's nameplate.

"The Weeping Widow," He read. "The woman's statue was meant to stand for the widows and lovers of the fallen men, waiting somewhere at the other side of the country. I can't imagine what it feels like to have someone come knocking on your door and tell you that the man you love is dead."

Ignoring Sister Joanna's lack of commentary, Charles continued. "This statue was built with the hopes that no more widows would have to share that fate. That's a beautiful thought."

"How did you come to know all this?" she finally interrupted.

"My uncle took part in the expedition. He lost an arm after the battle and was recuperating in this town when they built the statue." Charles recounted heartily. "It is sweet and proper to die for one's own country, he’d say to his nephews and grandchildren. He kept boasting about wanting to follow his friends to heaven. Or hell."

"It is sweet and fitting to die for the homeland is a more precise translation," The elder corrected. "They keep omitting the following lines:

sed dulcius pro patria vivere,

et dulcissimum pro patria bibere.

Ergo, bibamus pro salute patriae.

'A reasonable translation would be but sweeter still to live for the homeland, and sweetest yet to drink for the homeland. So, let us drink to the health of the homeland." She recited, her sonorous voice unwavering. "Why choose to die at the behest of unconcerned rulers when you can return to a loving home and family?"

Charles was taken aback by the mistress's sudden erudite lecture, almost sharp in its delivery.

"Forgive me," Charles blushed in embarrassment. He'd been correct —Sister Joanna was as enigmatic as her appearance, if not more.

 “To die for one's own country. The Emperor's beloved quote." Sister Joanna murmured. "A flowery epigram befitting an equally deranged man."

"I beg your pardon?"

Two years after the Emperor's death, all of the Continent remained in discord after his abdication and subsequent death. There were demands of his generals' execution after they failed to have the ruler beheaded himself.

In some parts of the country, statues in his image were toppled, and his estates were raided. Angry mobs and disillusioned former soldiers banded together to hunt down possible adherents to the old, 'warmongering' regime.

The recalcitrant woman stood tall against the backdrop of a secluded, provincial town hidden among mountains. Maybe there was a truth to Faust's words about her past dealings with the military.

Speak no ill of the dead doesn't apply to warlords and rulers, it seemed. Joanna sighed. "I can't imagine anyone deigning to pray for his poor soul."

His family, Charles dreaded to say. Whatever was left of the royal family were chased to the shores, some immediately captured as they attempted to land in the Isles.

Their encounter had taken quite the morbid turn. Yet it didn't deter Charles from wanting to know more about the woman standing by his side. The young doctor felt small, figuratively and literally, considering his shoulder didn't quite reach hers.

"I should return." Sister Joanna announced. "The sun is setting."

She was heading to the weapons shop, no doubt. Charles nearly forgot his reason for wanting to approach her in the first place.

"Wait!" He called, "I forgot to thank you for your help!"

"What?"

Charles panted as he struggled to match Sister Joanna's pace. Not only does she act like a soldier, she even walks like one!

"I haven't thanked you enough for this morning." He considered extending his hand but refrained, remembering that in proper circumstances, she would be the one extending her hand.

"I don't think I've introduced myself properly, have I? My name is Charles. Charles Henri-Sanson." He flashed her what he thought was his most bedazzling smile. "I might be staying here for the next four months or so,"

Sister Joanna regarded him with mild interest. "I see." She nodded. "Nice to have your acquaintance. I presume the doctor has told you plenty about me, considering you called me by name."

"He did!" Charles answered, not missing a beat. "He told me many things about you."

"Did he, now?"

The pair continued to make their way towards the edge of the square, Charles continuing to engage her with a barrage of questions, and Sister Joanna placating his curiosity with lukewarm zeal.

It didn't take long before they arrived at the entrance to the shop.

Sister Joanna uncovered her cowl and faced Charles. The entirety of her charred visage was now visible, unobscured by the midnight-colored fabric.

"You're a strange man," she observed. "Are you not revolted by the sight of my face?"

"Madame, I used to serve as a doctor until the last days of the war," He chuckled in earnest. "Before I was captured by the Coalition and became a prisoner.”

To be continued in Part 2.’

Special thanks to @batteryrose​ for her doodles of Jean with burn scars all over his body.

[beforetheflowers]

I’m a couple of days behind, but here goes. 

Supernatural Advent Calendar Day 6: Christmas Curse

Read on AO3!

Or, read a teaser below.

When Dean got back from his jog on Sunday morning, Cas was making breakfast in the kitchen. He shed his coat and gloves and went in to say good morning, wrapping his arms around Cas, who was scrambling eggs in a pan.

“You’re sweaty,” Cas said, making a disgruntled noise in his throat. 

He kissed Cas’s shoulder. “And how does that make you feel?” 

“You are a corrupting influence.” Cas’s voice was stern, but he relaxed into Dean’s arms for a moment. “Now go shower before I burn these eggs.” 

Dean loped out of the kitchen and upstairs, where he chucked his phone on his bed before getting ready for the day. It slid off the other side of the bed, and by the time he went back down to eat with Cas, he had forgotten about it. 

If only he had bothered to retrieve it, but the past could not be changed, even in the face of future torment.

He kissed Cas goodbye and headed to work.

Dean had established his auto shop not too long after the end of the world had been averted. What with the difficulty of job searching with no resume, he had found it easier to start his own business, instead. The benefits of setting his own hours were numerous; he could pick up a hunt every once in a while maintaining a steady income.

The sign out front read “Singer’s Auto Repair,” a tribute to Bobby which often raised questions when new clients found out that the owner was actually named Winchester. Dean rarely bothered to explain. Nosy suburbanites with their creaky Toyota Corollas did not need insight into Dean’s past. 

Still, the first difficult white lady of the day burst in through the doors, almost knocking the bell off its hook, and demanded to see ‘Mr. Singer.’ Somehow, Dean eventually gathered from her irate exposition, it was his fault that her tire had popped while driving her children to their Sunday morning golf lesson, and she demanded that ‘Mr. Singer’ compensate her for the towing fee. 

Dean didn’t recognize her and had half a mind to throw her out, but it was still early in the day. He’d humor her for a minute, if only for the satisfaction of watching her face turn red when he revealed that he was the owner.

The towing company had dropped off the car in the lot in front of his shop, and he went out to examine it. The weathered old Ford minivan showed clear signs of disrepair; the wheel wells were half-eaten by rust, the rear bumper was zip-tied on one side, and the headlights were so foggy Dean was doubtful that she could drive safely at night. 

“You need to get these cleaned or replaced,” he said, thinking about the two bored kids sitting in the back of the minivan. 

That had been the wrong thing to say. The lady went off about how ‘Mr. Singer’ never did a proper safety inspection the last time she brought her car in, and anyway, the problem was the one exploded tire, not the lights, genius, and how she could have died if the tire popped on the highway so she was of a mind to hold ‘Mr. Singer’ liable for emotional distress. The kids in the backseat gave Dean an embarrassed look, and he smiled faintly at them. 

Dean had a hunch that she had never visited his shop before, and when he checked out her tires, he knew for sure. The tread was completely worn in patches following a diagonal pattern, and in certain spots the underlying steel tire belt was visible. Dean would never have let her drive off the lot with those tires. 

“Alright, you need four new tires and a wheel alignment. I can check and see if I have any available for your car, but I might need to order ‘em in. You’ll need to leave your car here until then, but uh… I won’t charge you for parking,” he added because he knew it would piss her off. 

“You need to fix this now!” she screeched.  

Dean only half-listened to the rest of her tirade about ‘Mr. Singer’s’ negligence, and wished that he’d had a second cup of Cas’s excellent coffee before he left that morning. 

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” he said, letting his voice drop a few notes to get the warning across. “This is my shop, and I know for a fact that I have never seen you here before, so you can stop blaming Mr. Singer, may he rest in peace, for your inability to take care of your car. I can’t let you drive it off my lot because I’m worried you’re going to kill your children, so you can either get it fixed here or get it towed somewhere else.”

Okay, the ‘may he rest in peace’ was a bit theatrical, but it did the job. The lady shut up, though Dean sensed that it was less from shame over her behavior and more from the realization that he wasn’t going to roll over. 

He led her and her kids inside, where he proceeded to order the tires she needed and called her an Uber for good measure. Soon after, she left her keys and contact information in an envelope and (to Dean’s great pleasure) got the hell out of his office.

[writeangstime]

Perfect moment (Jaskier x Reader) - Modern AU!

This might seem like a stupid plot, but I saw that you did AU, so could I please request a modern AU!The Witcher oneshot or ficlet with Jaskier x female reader where he takes the reader to Disneyland, where he plans on proposing to the reader. Bonus points if it also involves Geralt and Yennefer hating the sight of all the bright colours, everyone being cheerful, etc and little Ciri getting all excited!

A/N: It was so pleasant to write this and I hope you can forgive me all the mistakes I made. Also I try my best to write all my stories as gender neutral as possible, so I hope you don’t mind that.

Title: Perfect moment Fandom: The Witcher (modern AU) Pairing: Jaskier x Reader Genre: Fluff Warnings: None right now   Words: 1283

The queue before the entrance was slowly staring to kill your feet – so much that you were tempted to just sit down right where you were standing – but the hand of your boyfriend kept you in place and you didn’t want to struggle away from the grasp. It also didn’t want help that the burning and despiteful gazes of Geralt and Yennefer were almost burning the hole in your back. Not like they blamed you for being stuck in the place like this, but the excited screams of young children all around made Geralt twitching in a will to both ignore them and shut them up. On the other hand, Yennefer would feel well among all of those kids, but then there was Cirilla who decided to run the whole queue up and front, asking from time to time about different costumes.

“So what are…plans for today. If you are planning to stand with me to any Disney princess, I am turning my back and walking away right now” he grunted, fixing the hat on Ciri’s head before letting her head for another run in the crowd, despite all his mood keeping an eye for her.

“Oh, I already thought about it! So we can go on some rides and then grab some food, I know it isn’t the cheapest in here, but also they told there is something interesting that you always can’t try elsewhere. Also, we maybe need to get to the queue, but only to the princess Ciri and you want to go. But-“ Jaskier was full into the immersing the surroundings and the information all around, but at the same time, but what he didn’t expect was being cut off by his friend who stood at the back.

“Yes, the overpriced items sold by people who pretend to live in the delusional place and are paid to tell lies to children, with people dressed in the heavy dresses no matter the weather, rides full of split drinks and popcorn and what else one could find in there, and also-“ Geralt also began his tirade, but awkwardly cut it when he noticed Jaskier waving his hand frantically behind your back, hoping to get even a bit of the signal that the mood of your group with that attitude will drop faster than the biggest ride.

“I think there is still something to find under this cheap and shoddy costumes and exposition, and probably…time to enjoy yourself keeping away from all of that” Jaskier wasn’t sure if Yennefer was truly trying to make things better or worse. He couldn’t be sure with her attitude that presented somehow disgust, somehow interest while she could take a peek at all those kinds having just fun all around her.

Your lips twitched in some kind of small smile but you didn’t feel that there was much excitement left for anything that was happening. Not like you despised now the thought of the thrill, but at this time when the companions with you were already thinking about it in a negative way, there was no way you could hold excitement for long.  It came to your mind that there was probably no reason why they tagged along and why they would even come to you and Jaskier. But there was also no way od deciding what to do now – first, you have to get pass through the whole queue.

                                                           ***

“What do you think would be the best option?” the question you asked to hang in the air and you wondered why prying your gaze away from the toys you were struggling to chose from. Upon noticing that none of the companions that came with you here were in sight – how is that they could vanish almost instantly, but when no one needed them they could roar through the crowd like tsunami wave – so that brought some kind of suspicions. Reaching for your phone, you did your best to dial the number to any of your friends, but if it was for the noise or for any other issue, they didn’t pick up.

So you decided that the best thing did stay in the place, knowing that the size of the park will make you lost for days if you decide to set to look for them right now. That or you could ask for help any of the members of the staff, but you were adult, not a lost child – if you could wait and try to reach your friends and boyfriend later, there was no need to panic after one line of a non-answered phone call. You decided it was a good idea, especially when you felt the vibration of your phone inside your pocket. What you didn’t expect when you answered was a huge noise in the background that Jaskier tried to overshout.

“PLEASE COME TO A STAR WARS ZONE! CIRI IS MISSING, PROBABLY ON HER WAY TO JOIN THE FIRST ORD-AU! DON’T HIT ME, GERALT! BUT PLEASE JUST COME!” With that, the connection was dropped and you just sighed, though the corner of your lips raised in a small smile. At least you couldn’t say that this day wasn’t interesting.

                                                           ***

You finally felt some peace when you sat down on one of the  benches, walking almost the whole day from one part of the park to another, enjoying your day as much as possible. Your legs were killing you and you felt your clothes sticky with some sweets you managed to grab as well as your sweat. This was tiring and yet so satisfying event that will probably stick with you for long. With a loud sigh, your head moved to rest on the shoulder of your boyfriend, enjoying the warm arm that he wrapped around you. But then, soon he jumped from his place, surprising you in every bit.

“Just warn me next time you do something like that!” you whined, rubbing your head that you hit on the wood of the bench. Squinting at him, your face quickly turned from grumpy to honestly surprised when you saw your boyfriend kneeling on the road, with people all around now turning their heads toward you. The redness came to your face when you thought that probably some families now grinned at you, probably silently cheering whatever was happening, especially when a velvet box found its way to Jaskiers’ hands.

Your breath was taken away on the glimpse of ring resting in there, hearth beating now so fast that you almost thought it was going to jump from your chest. Eyes travelled to the face of the man that was now kneeling in front of you, a stupid grin plastered to his face as he also seemed to be stressed as much as he was feeling joy.

“Listen, I came here hoping that I may find the perfect moment for both of us to just have this, but, I must say, every moment with you is perfect. And though I know I sometimes can’t shut up, just drag things all around or talk too much…I love you and if you accept me for who I am, I want to love you for the rest of my days. So…what you say (Y/N)? Will you marry me?”.

You never knew how exactly you found yourself on your feet. How you moved his hands toward him, wrapping them all around his neck, causing you two to fall on the ground in a bit of trembling mess. But you knew the moment that when you shouted “I will!”, there was a clapping all around and you couldn’t care less – the only thing that counted for you was the man that you held in your arms.

[taffystake]

So......Are you ready for the encore?

Taffy’s Take: Dark Nights Death Metal #1

Written by: Scott “Hallowed Be Thy Name” Snyder

Pencils by: Greg “Panikiller” Capullo

Inks by: Jonathan “Motorbreath” Glapion

Colors by: FCO “Fixxxer” Plascencia

So....it has all finally come to this. The finale. The ultimatum in a long saga of stories that started in the original Dark Nights, began showing its hand in No Justice, and was fully fleshed out with Snyder’s Justice League run. And it opens with a resounding boom that rivets your attention straight to the story and won’t let go until the pages run out. 

We open with Sergeant Rock, preparing himself and an unknown audience for a conflict to come. When or where this is set is somewhat unknown, but the massive futuristic assault rifle he levels to emphasis his last line says that Rock is somewhere in the modern day.

After the credits page, featuring a map of the current world of the DCU and a message that calls Death Metal an “Anti-Crisis”, we cut to Wonder Woman, hard at work deconstructing the invisible jet with a buzzsaw-like device in the literal depths of hell (Originally Themyscira) when someone interrupts her over approaching people. Said person is the flaming, green-covered skeleton that Swamp Thing has become in this world and he says that someone is coming with prisoners. And as Diana walks through her prison to meet these people, we get to see the absolute myriad of villains entombed in the place, including Joker. Once they reach the quartet, we get to meet Batmage, a red-suited Batman, a cloaked figure, and.....Bat-Tyrannosaurus. After some very terse banter, Diana is forced to throw this unknown prisoner into the pits of Tartarus. But before he is cast into the depths, he mutters something to Diana that makes her recognize the person for a moment.

After that, we are shown Castle Bat and given a backstory of a specific field within that area and the rebels who died within the tunnels underneath it before pulling back to a panel of a castle, with The Batman Who Laughs’ twisted Robins and Joker dragons dominating the structure. And then we meet The Batman Who Laughs’ League, composed of pairings of heros and Dark Multiverse Batmen. We have Harley Quinn and Dr Arkham, Aquaman and Bathomet, Wonder Woman and Batmage, and Mister Miracle and Darkfather. With each of them, we get a small question about their current work, with the most noteworthy being Mister Miracle revealing that Superman has almost succumbed to the Anti-Life Equation. Content with their briefings, The Batman Who Laughs begins to explain how Perpetua, the god who created their multiverse, has destroyed another of their universe, leaving only 8 before The Batman Who Laughs and Perpetua can remake the multiverse however they desire. Before we can hear more, we’re dragged into Diana’s perspective as the true Batman engages in a psychic link with her, trying to advocate for a small victory rather than the sweeping final win that Diana desires. As her thoughts turn towards what happened to result in the current state of the universe and her lack of memory about what caused it, The Batman Who Laughs interrupts her as he can tell that she is hiding something.

And at that moment, an explosive arrow fires out of the nearby woods and nearly vaporizes The Batman Who Laughs. Sacrificing one of his Robins, we soon see Bruce stride out to exchange threats with The Batman Who Laughs, who takes with some jest before ordering an entire squadron of Dark Multiverse Batmen to kill Bruce. While the enslaved Justice League does their best to take advantage of the distraction, their Dark Multiverse minders are quick to detain them from any rebellious actions. So Bruce is left alone, simply standing in this field to face down an army. And as The Batman Who Laughs monologues about how disappointed the brave men and women who died in this field would be at Bruce’s actions, he asks him what he would say to justify himself.

His answer?

One word.

“RISE.”

And so, with a BLACK LANTERN RING ON HIS FINGER, BRUCE WAYNE SUMMONS AN ARMY OF UNDEAD REBELS TO FIGHT THE DARK MULTIVERSE BATMEN JUST PURELY TO DEMONSTRATE WHAT HIS METHOD CAN DO TO DIANA BEFORE RIDING OFF ON A SKELETAL MOTORCYCLE AND LEAVING ZOMBIE JONAH HEX TO CONTINUE LEADING THE ASSAULT.

And now, as the audience both in the know about all of that and not in the know but hyped as hell because BRUCE WAYNE WENT FULL FUCKING NECROMANCER sits in the afterglow of that amazing moment, we cut to a single page depicting the planet Ossex as the Main Man, Lobo, unearths something from underneath the living bone of the planet.

Having made it back to Themyscira, Diana is quick to continue with the rebellion, setting off into Tartarus to see who this mystery prisoner is. And its...Wally West, with a Dr Manhattan-style hydrogen atom drawn into the forehead of his costume. And with Wally, we finally get an explanation of what the hell is going on. See, with the traditional multiverses, they are created using the positive energies that were explored in the Justice League run, things like the Speed Force, the Emotional Spectrum, Imagination. The inverse, stuff like chaos magic and the forces of doom that Perpetua wished to bring to power (and succeeded at doing) are what Wally calls Crisis Energy. And whereas the positive energies wish to create a strong united universe, Crisis Energies wish to simply make only one thing, one moment, one person important. And so, when Perpetua was trapped after her attempts to make a universe of war out of crisis energy, she did her best to instigate crises and came back empowered with all that energy. Meanwhile, the league, empowered by the slightly failed efforts of Dr Manhattan to ‘fix’ the multiverse, gathered all the positive energy they could and then, between the last issue of Justice League and Death Metal, the two forces clashed. Which, since they were basically smashing tow inverse forces together, resulted in both sides burning themselves out.

Now, that block of text could be extremely dry feeling, but it works really well in the two page spread, with the word balloons beginning to form an infinity symbol as images of past crises ranging from the original Crisis On Infinite Earths to Emerald Twilight to Dark Nights Metal in the background. 

But back to the story. With that explanation done, Wonder Woman begins to theorize potentially going back to those crises and gathering this information for themselves in order to reshape the universe themselves. Resulting in....”The first Anti-Crisis” The Batman Who Laughs interrupts with, striding into Tartarus to cut his own deal with Wonder Woman to let him take control over Perpetua. If she helps him, she gets all the people Perpetua has trapped and their own planet. And after that, he emphasizes how she can’t out-plan him, how he’s already prepared for her to knock him out, use the invisible jet she was being forced to deconstruct and melt down to give her armor that would render her undetectable. Wonder Woman is quick to counter that despite all the knowledge The Batman Who Laughs says he has, that entire plan is what Bruce would do. So he is quick to counter, stating so then she’d make a weapon, some sort of sword?

But it seems The Batman Who Laughs didn’t account for two things. One, for Diana to have already made her weapon before he showed up. Two, she didn’t need to make a sword. And so, with a pull of its ripcord, THE CHAINSAW OF TRUTH CLEAVES ITS WAY THROUGH THE BATMAN WHO LAUGHS IN A SPLASH PAGE OF PURE ENERGY ERUPTING OUT OF THE DEMON WHERE THE CHAINSAW IS CUTTING THROUGH HIM!

The comic ends with two quick one panel stories. The first, with Batmage executing a final plan that The Batman Who Laughs had in place to unleash a final Bruce Wayne. Which only sounds mildly menacing, unti the art shows both a button with a watchmen-style frownie face and the final Bruce Wayne in silhouette, a glowing hydrogen atom on his forehead.

The other is a cut back to Sergeant Rock, still continuing with his tirade from the beginning of the comic before he is taken out of the moment by Batman coming to retrieve him for the big fight. And as Batman promises One last fight with everyone together, we get to see in silhouette that Sergeant Rock is missing his everything below his torso, revealing himself to likely be another resurrection from Bruce’s Black Lantern ring.

So, in summary, IM PUMPED TO SEE WHAT HEIGHTS THIS THING HITS! THE BIG MOMENTS WERE SO DAMNED COOL! THE ART IS STILL THE ABSOLUTE ALL KILLER NO FILLER THAT CAPULLO ROCKED OUT WITH IN THE LAST DARK NIGHTS METAL EVENT AND I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT NEW SPORES OF MADNESS HE GETS TO CREATE FOR THIS STORY! 

And while I’d like to be pure hype beast, that feels a little disingenuous when I do have some small moments that seem like they could be tweaked. Both of the long exposition scenes for the Dead Bats and the Positive Energy vs Crisis Energy could have potentially stood for another pass just to really tighten them up, but I will also admit that both those scenes kinda deserve to be long-winded. The Dead Bats to make sure that the setup for Batman with a Black Lantern Ring summoning an army at that point works and the Energy one because its explaining the entire setup for the rest of the event series and it helps lull things down so that the hype of Chainsaw of Truth can hit like it should. 

So yeah, this thing is absolutely something any Scott Snyder fan, any DC fan, heck Id almost venture to say anyone interested in comics read. None of the story elements of the comic intrinsically need you to know the backstory behind them, but there are definitely rewards for knowing DC continuity in general and Scott Snyder’s previous works in this arcing story. So yeah, I am going to sit here, vibrating in anticipation as I await the next issue of Death Metal from the Cowboys From Hell on their encore tour.

[realswolestrider]

What are you doing?

At the moment? Or are you asking me to go on a Long-Winded Expositional Tirade?

[yournewapartment]

hey i'm so sorry if youve answered this question before, i didnt see it in the faq and im a little too mentally scrambled to do a deep search through previous posts, and i dont have much of anyone else to turn to right now. so for context, i'm 21 and still living with my mom (which is super embarrassing and i hate it but its a whole other can of worms to open right now). the other day she got into this huge tirade- screaming, swearing, insulting, belittling, the whole shebang (1/?)

“(21 living with mother anon again- 2/?) my mother does not really resort to physical violence aside from an occasional slap to the face, but as you can probably imagine based on this description, she can be very toxic at best and emotionally/verbally abusive at worst. i'm autistic, and i have c-ptsd and bipolar disorder, so high stress situations like this take a toll on me, and as a result, i often feel genuinely unsafe/threatened when she gets like this, even if i dont think she'll hit me

(21 living w/ mom- 3/?) so i dont know why, but for some reason, being the moron i am, i decided that it would actually be a good idea to stand up for myself and stand my ground this time (not that it would have much impact since i was crying). i may or may not have said something about straight up not coming home from work that night (most of my coworkers+managers know about the situation and are willing to help me have somewhere to go) until i no longer felt threatened coming home

(21 w/ mom- 4/4) this brings me to my question led up by my (unnecessarily long-winded in hindsight) exposition. when i said this, she more or less threatened to call the police to bring me back if i were to actually go through with that. legally, is that actually a thing she could do? i know it would be possible if i were a minor, i'm p sure being 21 keeps me in the clear but now i'm doubting myself. if you could tag my sideblog @localtraumaclub in your answer id appreciate it, sorry again”

@localtraumaclub I realize now that being able to tag someone when YNA answers a post is GENUIS! This means you’ll get a notification letting you know when we’ve responded. So thanks for that, I’m going to start using doing that on all non-anon posts.

In terms of your question, you are correct. If you are over the age of eighteen, your mother has not guardianship over you and cannot force police officers to arrest you and bring you back to her. If she did call them, the most they would do is check up on you and make sure you’re okay, they can’t and won’t make you go back to her home if you feel unsafe.

From what you’ve said, it sounds like a super toxic situation, and I encourage you to try to find an alternate living situation ASAP!

Lots of love!

[manifestoonmoralmanlove]

Blameless? Shameless? More like Shiftless: Wrap-up

I grumbled and fumbled through the first book in the series Soulless or Brainless. I fumed and gloomed through the second book Changeless or Gormless.

Now we’re onto the last book of the (initial) trilogy Blameless or...how I originally wanted to riff it...

But, I do not have riffs for you for this book.  Why?  I thought this series would end because I would run out of energy for it.  That’s not what happened...the true reason, is that this book is BY FAR the best out of the three, and that because of that most of my riffs aren’t very funny.  Despite that, I would not classify this book as GOOD by my standards. I think it’s barely mediocre and fixed a lot of problems the other books had.  So I feel as if I have to concede a bit here.

Instead of riffs, you’ll be getting a summary and my review so I feel as if I can tie this off with a nice little bow.

Summary:

Obvious spoilers ahead.

The world is steampunk supernatural Victorian England.  Vampires and Werewolves are real things, and there are also soulless.  Soulless are another set of supernaturals that can negate the powers of vampires and werewolves with touch.  Alexia is a soulless, and is married to an important werewolf Maccon.  Alexia becomes pregnant by Maccon, however werewolves are not supposed to be able to have children.  So Maccon is convinced she cheated and abandons her.

Alexia goes back to live with her family.  She discovers her one vampire friend has split town without warning, and that every other vampire is out to kill her for this pregnancy.  However she wants to prove that the child is Maccon, so she decides to go to Italy with her friends.  Italy is a country that’s run by religious zealots out to murder every single supernatural person and DESPITE THE OBVIOUS benefits a soulless could provide that organization they treat soulless people shitty too.  However, they suspect that with all the research they’ve done, they will have some information which can prove Alexia right. So Alexia travels to Italy with her dead dad’s stoic bodyguard Floote, and with a woman who has a crush on her named LeFoux.

Meanwhile her husband Maccon is being shitfaced and angsting a bunch about this.  His 2nd in command Lyall is taking care of all his duties.  Eventually Maccon sobers up and publishes a public apology for Alexia and claims that the baby is in fact his.  Also on this end it is discovered that Alexia’s vampire friend Akeldama had his boyfriend kidnapped.  So Maccon and Lyall manage to rescue the boyfriend, murdering the head vampire and being forced to change the boyfriend into a werewolf to save his life.

On the trip to Italy they battle a bunch of vampires and meet some allies.  When they get to Italy they’re captured by the religious Zealots known as the Templars.  When the Templars find out she’s with child they lock her in the dungeon.  However with the help of her friends and Maccon they rescue her.  Maccon and Alexia make up and happy end.

My review:

The story in itself…is simply not good.  I could list you plot holes by the dozen by neither of us has the patience for that I’m sure.  I think the sticking point for me is that their whole mission feels pretty pointless. They go through all this hassle getting to Italy (which honestly seemed like a super bad idea) while also being attacked by vampires the entire time and for what?  To find out that yes she could get pregnant from a werewolf?

….Don’t we already know that since she’s uhh pregnant from a werewolf?

The lore of this book is super bad.  All the major plot points hinge on nobody understanding anything about a rare but super fascinating and important race of people.  It feels as if the author doesn’t really care about her own lore, and makes everybody in her fictional world the same. Also it’s kinda hard for me to believe, that even if female soulless are super rare that literally in this world’s whole history a female soulless has become pregnant by a supernatural person twice.  TWICE! IN IT’S ENTIRE HISTORY! SEEMS LEGIT!

But there is a reason this is the best out of the three I swear!

I think the story starts off really strong with believable and easy-to-understand exposition that draws you in.  I legit read the first chapter of this book and was like, “WHAT THE FUCK, WE’RE A GOOD SERIES NOW!?!??!”

I think a large part of what makes it better for me is that they finally treat this series like an action/adventure.  There are lot of vampire battles, fighting weird technology, and dramatic escapes using wild steampunk vehicles.  We also have Maccon fighting werewolves and vampires, and dramatically saving a person from a glass bubble from the bottom of a river.

The steampunk technology used here is just straight up really lame and forced but I think that’s easily forgiven in a silly action adventure novel.

I think the POINT of books of this nature. Is the fun action!  We also pace this all together well.  We have suspense, breaks from the action, and it’s not all the same pow pow fight scene by a long shot.  I will say there isn’t a lot of suspense that she won’t be able to make it out alive. Nobody dies or even sustains any kind of serious injury.  The protagonists seem to fight as if they’re invincible, but oddly enough LeFoux spends a lot of the later scenes almost instantly getting knocked unconscious. Which I suppose is fine to up the ante of the tension but she’s the only one who gets that treatment and she gets it a lot…which is kind weird.  

Speaking of LeFoux, I was really bummed about her and Alexia’s relationship in this book.  One of the few enjoyable things about the last book was the lesbian flirting and the unresolved sexual tension between LeFoux and Alexia.  Sure Alexia didn’t know lesbians were a THING but it was quite clear that Alexia was attracted to LeFoux.  In this book LeFoux continues to flirt with Alexia but Alexia treats it like a droll annoyance.  Quite frankly it doesn’t make any sense if you’ve read the last book.  Alexia is at her lowest point in her relationship to her shitty husband, there is mutual attraction, LeFoux treats her nicely and is very willing, they’re off on an exciting and at points romantic tour of France, Alexia is on the cusp of a huge life change without her family or her husband’s support, and LeFoux is raising a child too.  I get that Maccon/Alexia has got to be OTP and that you don’t want her to look like she would actually cheat since, cause she’s gotta be morally better than the negative reputation she’s getting in the press. Yet at no point is a relationship with LeFoux treated as even a temptation for her. There isn’t even like a sub plot where Alexia worries about hurting LeFoux’s feelings or clearly explains that they can’t be together.  LeFoux has no reaction when Alexia reconciles with her husband.  It’s not treated as fucking anything more than comedic swatting down of lesbian advances.  So honestly? That kinda made me angry.  Now Alexia did sexually assault LeFoux last book and totally doesn’t deserve her but to treat her now as they wacky queer who hits on your Mary-Sue so you remember your Mary-Sue is hot is utterly aggravating. 

The story still has the major problem of being such a no bummers train that she won’t dare give LeFoux and Alexia a messy relationship.  It could have been so much more compelling ugh!  A part of me wonders if the author originally intended for the two to get together this novel since there was all that previous build up and the set up here makes it ideal.  Yet an editor said BIG NO to it, because apparently a hero cheating in a book is considered one of the most toxic of novel poisons.  OH WELL!

But a female/female relationship that is way better in this book?  That would be the friendship between Ivy and Alexia.   In the last book, Ivy was the stupid comic relief with romantic troubles.  Alexia spent the last book just being a condescending asshole to her.  Ivy never treated Alexia’s bullshit romantic troubles with anything other than support and respect but did not get the same in return.  They did not seem like friends.  Ivy was there to make Alexia look better and for a cheap laugh at Ivy’s expense even though she does nothing wrong. That was garbage.  In this book however Ivy trusts Alexia that she didn’t cheat, gives her all her love and support, gives her tea for her trip, and competently runs LeFoux’s hat shop while they’re both away.  In exchange Alexia appreciates what Ivy is doing and treats her like a smart person capable of doing difficult tasks.

I said it before and I’ll say it again.  Ivy is MVP of this series and you CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND!

But while we’re talking about relationships the crux of this series is Alexia and Maccon. I wonder if this is my favorite book of the series because they barely interact in person. The one time at the end where they reconcile was unbearable. Basically the just barely escape the dungeon and the entire crew is standing just outside it.  Alexia goes on a tirade about how much she hates Maccon but she’s very obviously pretending to be mad at him, and it’s the most pathetic scene in the series.  It was rushed and painfully awkward.  We just immediately forget about any possible danger and the other people there so Alexia can pointlessly pout while we all pretend its agency. (It’s not.) We also than very quickly transition them to a RANDOM barn so they can have sex, which is fade to black anyway.

I can’t help but view their reconciliation as a desperate woman who’s been through a lot, wants so badly for things to be less chaotic and familiar again that she capitulates to a shit boy garbage man.  She has many, many, many reasons to be properly mad at him. She is shunned by her family, loses her job, becomes a social outcast who can’t walk down the street without being harassed, and is the target of open and constant vampire hostility.  But he publishes a public apology and now they’re even.  The public apology is talked about as ~humiliating~ but he loses nothing for it. The series tries to sell us that they’re equals in this relationship cause they sass each other.  They are not equals in this relationship.  The series never seems to acknowledge that Alexia does like 90% of the work and gets way more shit than Maccon could ever dream of. Not that the series has to have a political message, it just seems so doped up by our shit heterosexual culture that it has no self-awareness.  I dislike Alexia for being a bad person, but Maccon is a worse person who doesn’t do anything good and lives a charmed life while his wife suffers quicker and more severely.  And what do we get out of it?  Dialog that can be boiled down to…

“Let’s have sex”

“No you’re a gross terrible very bad man!”

“Oh okay, I’ll go over here to contribute nothing and whine a lot.”

“I MEAN MAYBE IT WON’T BE SO BAD TO HAVE SEX WITH YOU???????????”

“…Is that a yes?”

“YOU VERY BAD MAN WHO IS GROSS AND TERRIBLE! I WILL NEVER HAVE SEX WITH YOU.............................................................

.............................................................….unless?”

I hate it very much.

So let’s talk other characters:

Floote is boring and pointless.

Tunstell shows up briefly to be comedic relief and really bad comedic relief at that.  He shows up in LeFoux’s lab and opens with him being very afraid of her wacky technology but then immediately starts sticking his fingers in dangerous stuff. Way to contradict your character in under a paragraph.

The way Channing was established last book, while making him look like a shitbird, gave him personality. In this book he’s there as a protective prop to make Maccon look marginally better. None of his personality comes out at all, and despite the last book showing him as a romantic rival there is 0 of that in this book.  I don’t think he has more than 3 lines of dialog.

LeFoux’s one friend was also pointless and personality-less to the point I can’t even be bother to look up his name.  He existed so they could dramatically borrow his flying contraption.

The villains of this series are two-fold:

We have the Templars who are religious zealots who want to kill all supernaturals and are disgusted by Alexia’s kind despite how useful she could be.  They were not good villains because they are utterly pathetic. They let Alexia and her friends have the run of the place.  While they can go outside the compound, once captured, they’re followed to make sure they return.  However, the author did not do an adequate job making that atmosphere…even stressful. The pack of them should be frightened by this.  They should be treading on eggshells because one wrong move and it’s an inquisition for them!  …No they zip around enjoying pesto and don’t seem to have a care in the world.

Even when the fight is brought to them?  They spend their whole lives training to kill supernaturals but when they get a chance to do so to protect Alexia they’re not very good at it.  3 podunk humans managed to evade capture by the entire vampire community as they trotted through Europe but zealots trained from birth to stake vampires fall left and right when they’re attacked by them?

OH YEAH, REALLY FEELING LIKE THEY’RE A LEGIT THREAT! THANKS FOR THAT!

Oh but don’t worry we have another villain to help balance things out!

We have Langs-Dorf or whatever the fuck his name is.  He is a heartless dude who researches soulless.  He basically wants to use her for experiments so he later teams up with the Templars and spills the beans that’s she’s preggorz.  

He, like the Templars, are flaccid shit tier babies.  He’s the archetypal sniveling scientist, who can’t even outwit them.  He honestly doesn’t even really get much screen-time. I am not exaggerating when I say they dedicate more time to describing what his irritating dog gets up to than what he does.  They did that for comedic purposes, sure okay whatever.  But it’s not funny and the ankle attacking just highlights how harmless he is as well.

So Alexia’s pregnancy?  

I mean, they do try to give her a character arc on how she feels about carrying a child.  It starts with her calling it an inconvenience and just assuming she’ll miscarry eventually.  Yet later is like, “Well I guess it’s okay if it lives.”  I’m glad they tried but they didn’t do a good job. Little time is dedicated to her personal feelings on the matter and her steps in pregnancy acceptance feel disjointed. It felt very much like,

Chapter 1:

This sucks.

Chapter 10:

Well I’m not morning sick today.

Chatper 20: I guess it’s okay.

I get we can’t talk about her wanting an abortion cause EVERYTHING IS GOOD TIMES but this no-bummers train cruising straight into never-frown-town we’re on here really stamps down her ability to have a MEANINGFUL arc not just on her role of her impending motherhood but like recognizing it’s going to be whole different human being.  ISN’T HER PREGNANCY SUPPOSED TO BE THE CORNERSTONE OF THIS WHOLE BOOK?!  Like at least 50 shades had Ana recognize her pregnancy as ANOTHER POTENTIAL PERSON and that she wanted to protect it even after her shitty husband lost his mind over it.

But I mean…for Alexia it’s at least in character cause she doesn’t give a shit about anything besides herself.  Alexia has not won me over as a relatable protagonist I want to root for.  She’s self-obsessed, and dumb.  Yet the whole world clamors about how great she is. She never has consequences tied to her negative choices or personality traits. She never gets in trouble for going into dangerous situations without planning.  Nor does she get in trouble for her lack of empathy, or belligerence. What she does get in trouble for is being born a soulless woman.  It feeds her smug martyr complex and overall is pretty fucking annoying.

TL;DR

Plot and characters? Bad

But this time the story has action, suspense, good pacing, and Ivy never did anything wrong. Good!

[karmibh6]

Observation

I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned in my blog that I wanted to write something, and because I’m weak and I can’t believe the lack of karmiro fics around, I needed to rememdy that, so here’s a little thing I hope you guys like it:

Hiro tries and fails to understand why people are so excited over pairing or 'shipping' - as Fred said - him with Karmi.

Well not him, but his hero self.

It's not like he even understands Karmi having a - he feels his nose scrunch at the word - crush on him; and if he's honest, he doesn't want Aun Cass' painfully awkward 'talk' or Baymax's needlessly and long explanations on how puberty affects hormones to help him understand.

That left his friends, but between Wasabi's fear of touching anyone, Gogo's bluntness, Honey's tirade on how love is 'just another type of chemistry', without mentioning of course Fred's long exposition about the debacle of Spiderman, MJ and Gwen Stacy; he just ended up more confused than before.

Hiro took upon himself to observe, which in as with everything sounded good in theory, but in practice he had to be careful not to look like a creep or worse a stalker.

Really he was lucky that he shared a couple of classes with Karmi.

The unlucky part of course was that for some weird reason Karmi thought he was the one with a crush on her, and was pretty observant herself so that only doubled his job.

The moment he entered the classroom, he looked around for her and there she found her as usual, in the front sitting by herself on a work table meant for two.

“Morning Karmi.” He decided to just wind it at this point, after she only mumbled what he assumed sounded like ‘morning’ too, he pressed: “Is this seat taken?”

For what it felt like the longest moment, Karmi seemed to be commited on glaring at him to chase him away, what she didn’t know is that it was hard to be intimidated by the same eyes that looked adoringly to him when he put a helmet on, so he just stood there, waiting.

“...I guess not.” She mumbled again, and he didn’t miss how she scooted her seat a bit farther from his when he finally sat down.

Observing her while he also paid attention in class was a little harder than he had initially thought, after all Granville was the teacher this time and he didn’t need to have another talk given to him.

From the tiny moments his eyes sneaked to Karmi, it was easy to tell she was not troubled at all with him there, she was completely focused on the class and her notes.

He did notice a couple thing however:

The way she gripped on the pen when writing down something very fast, or how she tended to chew on the tip before going back to writing again.

Her eyes moving quickly from the board to Granville to her notebook, and then how she squinted when trying to undestand an equation.

When she hunched over her work her hair fell on her shoulder and a couple of stray strands fell on top of her eyes, she seemed to be worked up over something because her form was hunched even more and he noticed she was biting on her bottom lip, her hand gripping the pen a little too tightly...

“Mr. Hamada!” Hiro was sure that the only reason he didn’t actually jump on his seat was because that was obviously physically impossible, but it certainly felt like he had anyway. 

“Yes, Professor?” It wasn't anything new to be on the other side of Granville's infamous glare but for some reason this time it felt different, infact she wasn't really glaring at him, her eyebrow was quirked and maybe he was mistaken but it looked like she wanted to smile.

"Pay attention." She simply said and continued to write on the board.

'Uh?' Hiro sat down took his pencil to keep working.

"Mr. Hamada, stay please."

Great, of course he wouldn't be so lucky as to escape a nagging, so he had wait next to the desk until the last person - Karmi, as usual wanting some extra praise and to throw him a mocking glare - left the class.

Of course Granville turned to talk to him just as he was sticking his tongue out to Karmi's back.

"Errr, did you want to discuss something?" He put his hands behind his back and putting on his best 'good boy' look, surprisinly she didn’t make any comments and simply walked around him to stand behind her desk.

"I couldn’t help notice that you were a bit... distracted today Mr. Hamada, and I have not heard anything about a new deranged person or ‘supervillain’ as you may put it trying to blow up San Fransokyo.” 

“I just been thinking of some other stuff....” Namely a certain person, but if he said that he would be better being swallowed up by the ground.

May I borrow your notes of today Mr. Hamada?” She simply asked.

“Sure, He-eeek!” the squeak that left him was faster than his hands trying to close the notebook again only to be pulled out of his hands by hers. “Before you get any weird ideas I swear I can explain!”

“You can explain why you were doodling in my class? Should I request a transfer to the SFAI?” She held the notebook at her eyelevel, which forced Hiro to face what he had done.

“What?! No please! I swear it won’t happen again!” He almost wanted to jump onto the desk, rip that page, throw it into the trash and forget that any of this had happened.

“I actually intended it as a compliment, regardless of the rivalries of our schools, as a professor I must encourage my student’s interests.” She smiled then. “It is a very good drawing, you managed to capture the essence of your classmate perfectly, even the focus in her eyes, you are very observant Mr. Hamada, may I ask however what prompted this?” 

With each word, Hiro felt more and more like lying on the ground until he couldn’t feel the burning of his face and the wild beating of his heart, or the look of the knowing smile of Granville.

But he knew the image of his sketch of Karmi would chase him wherever he went.

[doedipus]

I finally finished moyashimon

it’s honestly one of my favorite anime/manga that I’ve read in a long, long time. there are definitely some aspects of the work that frustrate me, but it’s not quite enough to sour the work as a whole in my eyes. if you’re in the mood for a really chill slice of life series with a lot of well-developed and respectfully portrayed female and queer characters, definitely give it a shot.

first of all, to anyone who’s only seen the anime adaptation, definitely, definitely, definitely look into the manga. some of the best parts in the series happen after the anime ends, esp. the craft beer adventure in volume 8 and american road trip in volume 10. plus, if you’re like me and are mostly drawn to the work because of kei, her involvement in the story only starts ramping up immediately after the anime ends, and she’s essentially the main character of the last 3 volumes. Plus, ishikawa and his team have a lot of fun with the medium that doesn’t always translate into animation.

All in all, picking up the manga is 100% worth your time if you’re even vaguely intrigued by the premise

more detailed thoughts and a handful of good reaction images under the break

I think overall the beer, france, and america arcs are the high points of the series.

The beer arc sticks out to me mostly because of stuff happening in real life during the time I was reading it. Basically, some of my friends talked me into taking a beer tasting class at uni with them. I’d never really liked beer very much beforehand, but it turns out I was just drinking the wrong kinds of beer. I’ll put my life on the line for a good IPA now that I know what that even is.

The beer section of moyashimon has mutou go through a similar process- she starts out by going on a huge tirade about how craft beer sucks and it’s only appealing to pretentious weirdos, and then over the course of the volume, they go over what different kinds of beer are like, how they’re made, etc. It ended up giving me a good idea of what to look out for in the beer class, and it was fun being able to compare what I was sampling to what the fermentation lab crew talked about.

There’s also a pretty cute gender-affirming moment for kei in there, where the gang gives her a women’s costume for the faux oktoberfest celebration the book culminates in. it’s a small plot point, but I liked it a lot.

The france and america arcs are pretty similar and I like them for basically the same reasons. Essentially it boils down to them tying really dynamic plotlines in with the usual culinary intrigue. There’s a real sense of tension to what’s happening in the story, and the food stuff is more directly related to what’s happening in the story than it usually is. In a lot of the other plotlines, the writers have a tendency to frontload all the technical stuff into one or two extended dialogue scenes, which can be kind of hard to get through in comparison

I also found ishikawa’s assessment of american food pretty fun to read through, and a lot of his comments make me want to try out some western restaurants in japan if I ever end up going there. For instance, he has the characters talk a lot about how burgers and stuff are much sweeter than they’re used to them being in japan, and it’d be neat to have a point of comparison for that.

Also the america arc is where kei and marie probably do gay things, which I am very down for

ultimately, I think upwards of 90% of people who stumble upon this series now, 5 years after the last chapter and last episode were released, are here specifically for kei. she’s the strong bad to sawaki’s homestar: you might not know it yet, but she’s the reason you’re here. if you’re impatient and wanna speedrun straight to the part where she transitions/goes full time/whatever, it’s halfway through volume 4 of the manga and episode 10 of the first season of anime. there’s a lot of fun plotlines that happen before that point that really deserve attention on their own merit, though.

I’m a big fan of kei’s characterization. she’s possibly my favorite trans (or trans-adjacent josou danshi, post-colonialism ho!) character I can think of, and certainly the best I’ve seen written by a cis author. being manga, there’s some dumb missteps that happen, but they seem to be mostly a result of the creators not knowing better rather than them just putting her in to gawk at like a lot of other creative teams tend to do. plus, I think a lot of it boils down to localization error. for instance, the scanslation I read consistently has characters and margin notes refer to her as “he,” but like, japanese doesn’t really use gendered language the way english does, so it’s more representative of the scan team’s biases than the writers’.

One of the things I really like about Kei’s depiction is that the author doesn’t try to make excuses for her behavior. There’s no throwaway line in her backstory about how her parents saw three crows and a capybara on the way home from the hospital and decided to raise her as a girl. She’s clearly attracted to Sawaki, but that’s never framed as her primary motive for transition. She just flatly explains that she thought about it real hard and decided that this was best for her. To me, that’s a much more compelling narrative than one where it’s something either foisted upon the character or something they just sort of haphazardly stumble into.

Another thing that sticks out to me about Kei is that she exists in a series that doesn’t construct its cast as a harem around a singular main character or the reader, which gives her much more room for personal motivations and interests. Like, even though I love Luka from steins;gate to pieces, she and the rest of the female cast in that series really only exist in order to be Okabe’s, and by extension, the viewers’ romantic interests. This ends up sort of limiting their ability for character growth because at the end of the day, they all have to remain available and receptive to Okabe’s advances. As a result, Luka can never really call Okabe out for mistreating her because the writers won’t risk making her route or subplot unappealing. The same goes for plenty of other series trans characters find themselves in, and it shows. So many of them are either smug tricksters there to tease viewers or utterly submissive waifs, and often lack development beyond what’s necessary to get otaku motors running.

Since Moyashimon doesn’t use that kind of restrictive casting structure, the author is able to untie Kei’s sense of self-worth from how Sawaki feels about her and allow the romance subplot to take a back seat while the cast works on their various projects. As a result, she ends up being more independent than most other trans characters and her self-confidence is more genuine. She’s designed from the ground up to be a more complete character, and it makes her inclusion in the main story as well as her subplot with Sawaki feel organic.

on the other hand, as punlich​ pointed out in their post, the series does take a couple passes at introducing characters that seem to be designed with the intent of giving the reader an outlet to vent their sexual frustration around kei, particularly marie and madoka. the former is frequently referenced within the work as being a cis palette swap of kei, and madoka is another of itsuki’s proteges who begins insisting that she’s going to marry sawaki shortly after she’s introduced and receives little characterization beyond that. Marie ends up being a strong character in her own right, but the work probably would’ve been better off if they’d given her basically any other design.

at least in my reading of the work, neither is really taken seriously as a preferable alternative pairing to kei/sawaki, since marie ends up being more into kei than sawaki in the end, and madoka just makes sawaki uncomfortable more often than not. it’s a clear step up from works like steins;gate, re:zero, blend-s, or oregairu, where the trans or GNC character is the one who’s never taken seriously to the point of being a joke inclusion more than anything. still, it’s irritating that the creators would feel the need to include that sort of character, given how they’re usually pretty good about not harem-izing their cast.

uh, and speaking of that, fuck most of volume 11. the central plotline for that section is that the school holds a beauty pageant for the cast, which is, uh, wildly out of character for the series to say the least. it’s to the point where I’m inclined to suspect some form of executive meddling. like maybe they were gonna get dropped due to lack of readership and the brass told the creative team to do a dumb fanservice arc or something. they talk in a sidebar about how they changed editors around the start of this arc, so I have a hunch that has something to do with it?  I guess only they would know, though. it’s not like I can read any interviews or anything lol.

there’s still good content in there, and like I mentioned earlier, it’s when kei starts to really dominate a lot of the screen time, which is a big plus. it’s just dumb and out of place.

I also kind of found the conclusion to kei and sawaki’s “will they, won’t they” subplot really unfulfilling. namely, there really isn’t a conclusion to it at all. at the end, it’s clear that kei’s finally become comfortable with her attraction to sawaki, but sawaki is still kinda hesitant about going anywhere serious with someone he’s been friends with since forever. and like, I can get that, it’s sort of a natural aspect of where that arc would have to go, it’s just a frustrating note to end on. it seems likely that they would get together in the future, at least. (and that’s why you should read my fanfics!)

One thing I really liked about the ending section is sawaki comes up with some proactive uses for his superpower. for most of the series, it’s just a vehicle for ishikawa to exposit about his fascination with microbiology and fermented cuisine, which works great with the lower-key tone the series went for. still, the ways he uses it at the end are pretty clever, and it would’ve been neat to see him go on to use it in other ways. It’s frustrating that one of the uses he comes up with involves doing mouth-to-mouth with madoka, however.

I kind of get the feeling that the series got cut short because a lot of plot threads get addressed and tied up really quickly and sloppily in the last four or five chapters, while a ton of others just sit there. idk if it was a popularity thing, or if ishikawa decided to go all-in on maria the virgin witch, or some other factor, but I guess that’s kind of the nature of serial fiction. it just goes on as long as the creators and publishers are engaged with it, and then it’s over and they all move onto something else.

I’m being pretty hard on the ending portions of the series, but honestly pretty much everything not directly related to the beauty pageant or madoka is really solid. I’m just laying it all out there so nobody gets caught off-guard by the jankiness more than anything.

For one reason or another, moyashimon really struck a chord with me, and it’s kind of hard to put into words why. A big part of it is that kei is a character that I feel a sort of kinship with, which is a rare occurrence as a trans person. She feels like a real person that I’d meet through a message board or discord lobby. The rest of the cast has shades of that as well- the students feel like people I could have met in school, and itsuki harkens back to aspects of professors I’ve had, from his weird sense of humor to his rather alarming past working for the military. It’s easy for me to subconsciously insert myself into their fictional friend group. I guess it’s kind of like how people tend to engage with redlettermedia or ensemble let’s play channels like game grumps or super best friends play. Reading about the gang’s antics confers a sense of belonging that I’m perpetually starving for.

Another aspect of it is that it’s just fun to indulge in someone else’s hyperfixations for a while. It’s why sci-fi authors like heinlein and crichton are so influential, and why internet personalities like cgp grey or jon bois are so engaging: they’re really adept at articulating how utterly captivating some concept or ideology is to them at the moment. Somewhere between most and all of what ishikawa has to say about food and microbiology goes directly over my head, but the passion he has for those topics is readily apparent in every jargon-infested, chart-saturated debate he has his characters get into, and I love it. In that sidebar he goes on about his relationship to his editors, he mentions that the top boy editor chewed him out a couple times for basically trying to sneak a textbook into the magazine. It ends up being compelling based on passion alone, even if I only really internalized a fifth of what he actually had to say.

Is moyashimon for you? Ultimately I don’t think it’s really for anyone besides ishikawa himself. But if you’re at all like me, chances are you’ll fall in love with this bizarre and charming edutainment series anyway. If any of this sounds even remotely interesting to you, I can’t recommend checking it out highly enough.

[i-just-like-commenting]

Timeless Rewatch (part 6/?)

If it feels like I’m rushing through this, I’m going to be rewatching Luke Cage come this Friday when I am officially unemployed for the summer and I want to get season 1 out of the way before my dash turns into a ShadyMariah fanpage.

As always, spoilers through season 2.

Episode 10: The Capture of Benedict Arnold

...aaaand if last episode launched Lyatt, this one launched Garcy. Not among fans, I’m sure. Given how fans can so often romanticize anything a broody good-looking white villain does, I’m sure this was already a ship. No, I mean, apparently this is when there started to be a split among the show’s writers about exactly in what capacity Lucy and Flynn were going to wind up teaming up. The groundwork is definitely here, with him confessing that he intends to bring his family back but not to stay with him because he knows what a nasty mess he’s turned into doing everything, and with her trying to reach out and get him to change.

But then he kidnaps her so no, still not romantic yet, you guys.

Still, this was the episode where I started rooting for and anticipating a potential heel-face-turn for Flynn. By the next episode I was frustrated with how oblivious he was to the possibility that maybe if he wants them to work together in the future that means working together rather than demanding she go along with whatever he wants? If Wyatt’s biggest flaw is his jealousy, than Flynn’s is his arrogance, but unlike Wyatt he’s had to face that flaw and learn some humility.  I don’t know what I would consider the opposite of jealousy...maybe generosity? Whatever it is, Wyatt has to learn it.

The real kick of rewatching this episode, though, is Agent Christopher inviting Lucy over for dinner and giving her that flashdrive knowing how it was going to come back and be used in season 2. Did I get choked up a little? YOU BETCHA.

Episode 11: The World’s Columbian Exposition

Since watching this the first time I’ve read The Devil in the White City, and while I knew a fair bit about the Exposition and the Murder Castle by virtue of living in Chicago for a while (long story, not a great chapter in my life), I now know a LOT about them both, and I’m fairly sure the writers got the idea for this episode from reading it. Hmmm...maybe I need to mail them some books on Asian-American history before next season for when they return to Chinatown. (pleaselettherebeanextseason)

This show may play rough with its rules of time travel (I am convinced that someone else can pilot the mothership, as Anthony is yet again nowhere to be seen), but it does stay consistent with its characters. Rufus’ biggest flaw is his fear and self-doubt, as well as the way he overcompensates for it in reckless bravado. We saw that in the pilot with his tirade against the racist cop, we see it with his defiance of Rittenhouse here, and it comes up again next season when he believes he’s invincible thanks to Jiya’s vision.

My biggest takeaway, though is that I still have the same massive crush on Harry Houdini that I had the first time through. Can I have an entire show about him (and eventually his wife) solving crimes and doing capers? It could be a spinoff of this show, even, in the same timeline. Michael Drayer apparently has a recurring role on Mr. Robot which I keep meaning to get around to watching but haven’t yet...anyway, he’s great in this, and I’d love a Harry Houdini series starring him.

[supergirlimaginesfic-blog]

Dating Lena Luthor (clingy and cuddly)

Request: Dating a clingy/cuddly lena luthor would include

a/n: I’ve dabbled with this style of formatting in one of my earlier posts, but it really did not look as nice on the app at all as it does on desktop and mobile web browser. I’ve thought to try it again to give myself a little break from all my long exposition. If the formatting messes up monumentally when it’s translated to the app, then I fully apologize for how ugly it looks LOL

I say this often to the point of being redundant and annoying but I really do mean it; I love seeing what you folks come up with for me to write. So don’t be afraid to hit up that ask box! I’m going through them all at a steady pace and hopefully I can do it justice. Thank you all again for reading, I’m so happy some of you enjoy what I do :D

- - - - -

before you two ever started dating, you found she had a bit of an awkward way with her hands, seeming to not know what to do with them

you would never have suspected Lena to be all that much of a tactile person, but as anything Lena Luthor would have it, she flipped expectations right on their head and you found you were pleasantly surprised the more you got to know her

Lena loved working with her hands - if she really had it her way, she’d spend all her time in the research and development department of L-Corp, preferring to actually do something tangible rather than work the strings behind the scenes of her company

initially, she’d allow herself a few fleeting touches when it came to you. Each time without fail, you felt her igniting miniature blazes on your skin

you could be having a conversation with Jess (already an impressive feat in itself) as you waited to take Lena out for lunch, and she’d come up behind you and place a hand on your back to let you know she was ready

Jess, the ever dutiful secretary, would both parts ignore the gesture politely but also take very intensive note of anything and everything concerning that very action, a rarity of perhaps once in a while to absolutely never for one Lena Luthor, her boss of nearly four years - and who the hell exactly were you to inspire such intimate habits in her employer? Was it foul play? Was some kind of dark sorcery at work?

it could be said then that Jess was fascinated by you because of this, but you didn’t recognize this strange interest in your influence for what it was in the beginning, and you mistook her careful scrutinizing of you for malice. You still suspect Jess is wary of you, just lesser than she is of most people

one time when you’d dropped by Lena’s office, Lena reached over her desk and you realized just a little too late what she wanted to do, and you moved - more so, twitched - your entire arm closer to her and nearly knocked your coffee off her desk in the process. Neither of you commented on the clumsiness of your actions and just smiled wordlessly at the touch instead

you’d gotten better at detecting Lena’s particular needs; eventually you’d become close enough that your lunch break conversations would be had on her office couch, and that was a whole other monster in and of itself

you found Lena getting more and more close to you with each interaction, seeming to not care about physical boundaries as she let a hand linger on your arm here, lightly swatted at your shoulder when you’d told a joke there

you tried really hard the first instance she ever rest her hand on your knee to not twitch at the contact; you were very much aware of her growing affinity for touching you, but not for the wrong reasons

you were so deeply in tune with her that even she made a softer person out of you eventually, hardened rough edges and all

when you two finally started dating, you were very much cognizant of your girlfriend’s subconscious need to always feel you close to her

you suspected for whatever reasons - quite valid reasons, you surmise, that she liked knowing you were just there, and felt eased by feeling your presence physically to perhaps emotionally anchor her too

one time at a fundraiser gala held by L-Corp, she was making her rounds of imperative socialization and you’d noticed her hand clenching into a small fist, relaxing then only to go back again when she was speaking with a particularly unruly man in an ill-fitting suit. You let your hand wander down to hers, grabbing it in one easy, natural motion and you felt her relax instantly

that night, there was seemingly no end to her deep frustration of that same insufferable man, and when you let her tire herself out of her verbal tirade, you just reached over to her and massaged the crinkle out of her forehead, rubbing circles on her temples to ease her tension

she still, to this day, adamantly denies she fell asleep in your arms within five minutes of you doing that

on more than one but less than six occasions, you find yourself waking up in the afternoon to a face full of your girlfriend’s hair and just once you nearly had a mouthful of it, her back always pressing up against your front as she snuggles you deeper into the couch (you suspect you’re very close to sinking into the depths of the furniture)

just twice have you ever caught Jess cracking the door just slightly to see if you two were still napping in Lena’s office - once when she accidentally stumbled upon the admittedly adorable but equally alarming sight of her very soft boss sleeping in your arms the very first time, and the second instance when she checked up on the suspiciously quiet office, perhaps making sure Lena wasn’t attacked by whoever or whatever else wanted the next go at her since she last saw her an hour ago

in your semi-conscious state with one bleary eye open, you think you see Jess snap a picture of you two cuddling on the couch, but you can’t be sure

you’re proven right when she sends you the picture as her only explanation after she sends you a very cryptic text one day - to any outsider not versed in the language of Secretary, you figured the message could have been just one level above being entirely disconcerting: “Please come by the office and remind Miss Luthor to be human today”

(you come to understand that in Secretary speak, that means your workaholic girlfriend only got two hours of sleep that night)

Lena loves putting her cold feet on your leg when you’re watching TV together, and at first her feet were so freakin’ cold the mere contact jolted you awake from your sleepy daze

eventually, you got so used to her warming her feet up on you that you’d just roll your eyes in resignation, smirking at the satisfied grin she had as she hid her face further into her self-imposed blanket burrito

Lena has the very proficient talent of making you smile like an idiot whenever she texts you, and you almost say you’re annoyed by how easily she melts that cold, still heart of yours

(you’re not annoyed at all. In fact, you love that Lena can so easily do what even you could not do for yourself)

-“Can we take a nap when we get home?” -“Of course, baby. We can do one better and sleep early tonight, seeing as though a certain someone didn’t get much sleep last night, according to her secretary...” -“Who, me? I think you’ve the wrong person. When are you coming home?” -“In an hour or two I think, why’s that?” -“I miss you :(” -“Baby, we saw each other at lunch LOL” -“I can still miss you...”

your friends have gotten used to your constant contact. Alex is loath to admit it’s quite actually the cutest shit she’s ever seen, to quote her verbatim

Lena’s always playing with your fingers, intertwining them with hers when you hold her hand, touching the pads of your fingertips when you’re driving somewhere and she’s in the passenger seat, massaging your hands when you’re both relaxing on the couch in your living room

you’ve grown used to having a koala for a girlfriend

the first few times you ever spent the night together, you’d noted that Lena kept a considerable distance between you when you fell asleep, still facing you

you found her clinging to your back at some point in the early morning, her body molded to yours as you felt her nuzzling into your neck. Her sleepy breaths eased you awake as the hair on the back of your neck came alive - all you did was smile in amusement and content

eventually, Lena felt comfortable enough to throw all pretense to the wind, wordlessly demanding to be wrapped in the entirety of you, bringing your arms to envelop her and easily dismissing all your very justified concerns of suffocating her - she fell asleep in a matter of minutes

you were never one for PDA in public, but you also didn’t have much an opinion on it either. Dating Lena Luthor, however, you can finally relent to say something about the whole matter: you absolutely love it when she reaches for your hand in public, and you let yourself go to the lightness of existence you feel when she holds onto you like she needs you

maybe one day you’ll admit it, she deserves to hear it after all, but you love how needy and touchy Lena is - with her innocent, uncomplicated desire to feel you here, you know she has made a smiling mess out of you (you suspect you’ve grown dependent on feeling her presence and the reassurance it brings too)