#mikhail know women good for only one thing: WRESTLING

[psicadetterra]

Why not ask foxy girlfriend over there?

[sick-raven]

To Fulfil the Mission - Jill/Nikolai fanfic

To celebrate REmake3 coming soon and destroying the canon we all know and love, I decided we all deserve Jill and Nikolai banging in the train.

That’s all.

You can also read it on AO3.

To Fulfil the Mission

The things weren’t going smoothly at all. The train was still stuck, Carlos was running around the city trying to get the damn thing moving, Mikhail was unconscious most of the time, and as if that wasn’t enough, the target joined their group. Killing Jill Valentine would get him a lot of money, but so will his observation of the Tyrant if it tears the woman apart. That is, if it doesn’t kill Nikolai with her, those things were unpredictable.

Nikolai wanted to get as far away as possible, but to get to the hospital and extraction point, he needs this train to move. He can only pray that the team won’t get killed sooner than he needs or that the bitch won’t go away alerting the hordes of their position.

Jill was in the other carriage trying to fix a radio. She was handy but even her skill cannot get through Umbrella’s jamming. There was no way to get the signal out of city – they were stuck here. Of course, unless you know the place from where to call and a correct frequency, but that was only for his use. Everyone else will be dead at that point.

Not him though. He couldn’t look Grim Reaper in the eyes if he didn’t manage to get out of this hellhole. Nikolai was pretty sure that if HUNK entered this city, he would die behind the first corner.

Nikolai was watching Jill through door window. She was leaning over radio with unhappy look on her face, working with tiny screwdriver. She looked horrible – they all did. Dirty, tired, sweaty and bruised. Her every movement showed that she is professional – there was nothing delicate about Jill Valentine. He’s seen his share of women soldiers; she would be one of the finest. It was almost a shame she was on the other side of the barricade and destined to die. He would love to cooperate with someone so effective.

As if she felt his gaze, she looked up. Their eyes have met – they didn’t like each other at all. The instinct – he felt she is dangerous, and she probably knew there was something shady about him. It was only fair to despise each other, but for now, cooperation was vital. Nikolai nodded and entered the carriage.

“Will you fix it?” he asked.

“I’m trying, but it’s busted,” she answered without snarky tone. They were too tired for any charade. “Have you heard from Carlos?”

“No.”

Radio silence didn’t make him nervous. Carlos can take care of himself and he’s proven it more than once. And if by any chance he was in danger, he would let them know. They all knew waiting for someone who will never come is the worst.

Jill stood up and stretched her back. She had nice body, strong. Painful expression showed the bruises are bothering her. She won’t be able to stand against the Tyrant. Ten seconds of life, and that only if she is fast enough. Nikolai wouldn’t bet on more time.

“I’m going to go get him,” she said.

“Carlos can take care of himself, scattering is not a good idea,” he disagreed.

“He can be hurt or dead, we need those parts.” Jill ensured her gun is loaded and put it back to holster.

“I won’t let you.”

She gave him nasty look. “I am not one of your soldiers.”

Only if she was. But she wasn’t, and she was marked for death. Walking out there was calling the Tyrant to come and wreck this place up and kill everyone. Including him.

“You will leave, Carlos will come back and we will run in the circles. You will stay here.”

Jill wasn’t listening at all. She aimed for the door. Nikolai stood in her way.

“Out of my way,” she demanded.

“No.”

They were measuring each other. Will she pull out her gun? Run for the other door? Attack him? He was waiting for any sign of movement.

Her blue eyes were so cold.

She went after her gun.

Nikolai grabbed her wrist just as she was taking it out. He tried to wrestle the gun away from her, but she was strong. Jill was fast, punched him in the face. The world was full of stars for a moment, but the instinct kicked in and Nikolai grabbed her by the neck before she could follow up on her attack. Much heavier than her, it was easy to force her against the train door. She grumbled, tried to kick him, but it took him almost no effort at all to pacify her.

His whole body was holding her, pressing against her, forcing her to not move. The hatred in her eyes rose. Nikolai took the gun apart and threw it behind himself.

“You stay put or you will get us all killed,” he hissed at her.

“Fuck you,” Jill said back. This close her eyes were pretty, and her body was so soft. It will be a waste, really, when the Tyrant comes. It will squeeze the life out of her, left her broken, pretty skin torn and bleeding. All the warmth gone, just cold carcass.

Jill’s expression changed from angry to shocked. Nikolai let go of her quickly and took step back. Damn it. Women were his weakness. His intimidation was ruined by fucking hard-on.

“I’m not an animal,” he scoffed as Jill was collecting herself. “Just stay here, Valentine. It’s better for all of us, if you don’t go wander around.”

She better dies soon; this was like keeping an eye on fucking kindergarten.

Jill massaged her neck and begun to pick up parts of her weapon. Unarmed in this city meant certain death. As she was putting her gun back together, Nikolai’s radio crackled.

“This is Carlos. I’m heading back. I will be there at forty.”

“Copy. Move your ass,” Nikolai answered with a smile. See, Valentine? I told you, the goody-two-shoes will be back in no time and they can get this scrap moving. And after that, he can kill them all, he won’t need them anymore. He has a mission to fulfil.

Now, this was interesting. Jill watched him with an expression he hasn’t seen yet. After what happened he would think she will be angry, embarrassed or sorry for acting rushed. Umbrella soldiers probably weren’t company she would expect while in here, but that didn’t excuse stupid behaviour.

However, she looked at him differently. Curiously, spark of expectation. Or maybe he was making it up. It happened to him before.

“Forty minutes,” she repeated and put one hand on her hip. “So?”

He had to be making this up. “So what?”

With a sigh she walked to him and grabbed his crotch. He leaned on the door partially in shock. “Getting it hard in the situation like this, that’s admirable,” Jill smirked. “You have forty minutes, are you gonna fuck me or not?”

He just about saw through the door, Mikhail was in the land of unconscious, still breathing.

“Come on, you hate me, I hate you, but this might be our last chance before we die horribly,” Jill squeezed his balls and he gasped. Her breast pressed against him, making her cleavage prominent, wet with sweat.

She dares to talk to him like that. Nikolai smiled, showing teeth. He found her neck again. One movement and she would be dead. He felt her larynx vibrate as she laughed shortly. The last thought ran through his head – but he stopped it. They were secure, they had eyes on every corner, they missed nothing.

He forced her to change places. Now he was holding her against the door. She massaged his crotch; his dick was hard and pushing against his pants almost painfully. He breathed out, looking into her needy and hungry eyes. Elite operative, strong soldier, fucking whore.

He slid his hand under her shirt and squeezed her boob. She bit her lip.

“I want to hear you, Jill,” he hissed between the tension striking from his crotch.

“You have to try harder for that.”

Making fun of him, huh? He pinched her nipple, twisted it between his fingers, getting a moan out of her, her throat vibrating again under his hand. He smiled victoriously. She wanted to play him; she is the one who will have to play harder.

“That’s what I like.” He stopped teasing her and let go. She breathed in, fighting urge to push unto him. Instead she started to unzip his pants. He grabbed her hand, twisted it and forced her to turn around. He pushed her face against the window, her breath left mist on the glass.

“You jerk,” she hissed, but she didn’t fight him back. He held her strongly, rubbing his crotch against her butt.

“Do you feel it?” he whispered into her ear, found her breast and squeezed it. Her breasts were soft, nipples hard, he would love to play with them all day. He took the time to enjoy how malleable they are. With every squeeze she moaned silently.

“Ah – I feel nothing,” she tried to gather herself, but her face was red, and her body trembled. “Are you even, hnngh, doing something?”

Her teasing got to him. Every mocking word bit him hard. Not enough for her? He will show her what has he got. Fucking S.T.A.R.S. thinking they are better than everyone else. She will get the fuck she won’t ever forget.

He undid her pants and took them off. Before she could react, there he was, pushing against her again. His hand slipped between her legs. She was already dripping, her inner thighs wet, puss running down her legs.

“You feel nothing, hm?” he whispered again and ran fingers around her clit. Jill’s body pushed against him, he held her tight on place. She won’t be able to get away. He will give her everything. He will enjoy every tremble, every moan, he will make her melt in his arms.

“Y-yes,” she managed to get out between the gasps.

Slipping between her lips, in and out, enjoying the warmth, pushing against her inner wall. She started to move with him, hungry for more, to pick up the pace. Nikolai grinned unzipping his pants. He sighed in relief taking his hard dick out. He rubbed it against the perfect skin on her butt.

“Do you feel this?” he asked aiming his member into her hole. His tip touching the gulping, wet lips.

“Yes.”

“Say my name.”

She clenched her teeth and closed her eyes. Her pussy pulsated under his fingers. He slipped them out, teased her clit.

“Come on, Valentine, say my name.”

She whimpered like a puppy when they take away its toy. The trembles got more intense, he felt her body tense, trying to get his fingers to move again.

“My name,” he demanded right into her ear.

“Nikolai!” she almost shouted. He thrusted; her pussy took him all in at once. She screamed again. Warmth surrounded him, sweet cunt took him whole, pulsating with expectation. He didn’t even have to move; Jill was already pulling out and thrusting him back again. She was riding him as if she was in charge here. He squeezed her breast again, pushed strong and immobilized her.

“N-no, don’t stop,” she begged, squirming.

“You still don’t understand,” he chuckled.

She gasped. “Nikolai!”

That was better. That’s how you learn the bitch to listen. He thrusted again, once.

“Come on,” she demanded.

“Hmmm?”

“Nikolai.”

Again. This time she didn’t wait. She said his name, over and over. Her voice was raising, as he fucked her hard, slipping into her pussy, deep, again and again.

“Aaaah, Nikolai, don’t stop, fuck me,” she begged, her body melting under him, matching his pace. Faster and faster. The tension growing higher, the build up getting up and up.

He reached the peak at the same time as Jill screamed his name. She went tense, his balls emptied themselves right into her cunt, spraying the walls. Then she crumbled under him, the limbs couldn’t hold her. She was shaking, and he was the only thing that kept her from falling on the ground. Her pussy still pulsated around his member, pushing his semen out. It dripped out, coursed on her legs down.

Nikolai sighed in relief. This woman will never forget him. Not that she will have much time. It was too bad. He would love to see her after he gets out of the city. He would show her how he is when he is not tired, dirty and stressed.

This wasn’t even his peak form.

Although, looking at her catching her breath and trying to get herself modest again, he would bet she wasn’t either. Maybe he will be the one to remember this forever. You do not meet someone so perfect every day.

Or that was only his wishful thinking.

[thetimetravellinggaybar]

Chapter 8: The Royal We

It was nearing two in the morning when there was a loud clatter on the roof. Leaving only the time for the bar’s diminishing clientele to look up before the ceiling seemed to swell and burst, and a cluster of bodies fell through, landing with great commotion in a pile on the floor.

As the intruders extricated themselves from the heap, five figures distinguished themselves: three men in dazzling, ceremonial-looking military garb, lavishly bedecked with silk and velveteen; a woman buried up to the neck in duchesse satin, crinoline, pearl jewelry, and ribbons; and another in hunting dress, with black velvet gloves up to her elbows and thick furs draped over her shoulders.

They got up, dusted themselves off, and without a moment’s hesitation began to yell. Several seemed to be speaking Russian, and turned to each other in confusion before returning to the business of their complaining.

Feeling themselves ignored, they first looked around accusingly; then, assuming the problem must be the language barrier, all five, nearly simultaneously, switched to French.

One of the five - Grand Duke Dmitry Pavlovich of Romanov - was halfway through a sentence when, suddenly, his gaze stopped on a familiar face: that of Tsar Nicholas the Second of Russia.

“We were not informed that your Majesty was visiting! What a pleasant surprise!” He exclaimed, in French, before gesturing at the unfamiliar surroundings and switching to Russian again. “This… forgive me, but are we here on your orders, your Majesty?”

“Absolutely not. I am as baffled as the you,” replied Nicholas.

“Dima!” The call of the sickly sweet voice behind him made Dmitry freeze the moment he heard it. He didn’t need to turn around; he knew immediately who it was.

“Felix,” he muttered under his breath. The Tsar was looking over his shoulder - at Count Felix Yusupov himself, he knew - with one eyebrow raised. In skepticism, perhaps, or simply curiosity over the nickname. Dima. How dare you, Dmitry fumed. The risks you make me take, and for what? If the Tsar found out, where would you be? Where would we be?

But now the Count stood beside him and the Tsar had moved on from the topic without a word. He and Felix were discussing their sudden… transportation.

After a spat of conversation, the three decided that they could make nothing of it on their own, and weren’t there others who had come down with them? Perhaps one who spoke Russian, too.

The three of them turned, then, to the women beside them, who were making slightly less noise and trying to make sense the unusual surroundings. “You two! Do you speak French? What’s going on here?” Nicholas broke in, in French, interrupting their conversation.

“Of course I speak French! Who do think I am?” the two exclaimed simultaneously.

“Who are you?”

The more elaborately dressed of the two stepped forward. “Yekaterina Alekseyevna, Empress and Autocrat of All the Russias.” Her voice was ice cold. “What spectacular ignorance on your part. I am ashamed that any subject of mine should fail to recognize - “

“Subject!” Nicholas spat. “I am the subject of none! There is no man more powerful in all Russia!”

“Good thing, then, that I am no man.” Empress Catherine smiled a chilly smile, switching to Russian.

“Who are you? A Bolshevik? God forbid, a parlementarian? What is your business in - “

“Yekaterina Alekseyevna, Empress and Autocrat of All the Russias. Must I continue to repeat myself? Where are my servants? Who is responsible - ”

“I demand that you explain yourself!” Nicholas was furious. “I’ll have you know that I will have you executed for false claims to the throne.”

“Treason!” Catherine shouted. “My men! Treason! Have him arrested!” She turned away from the weakly rambling Tsar Nicholas and grabbed the first unsuspecting customer she laid her eyes on by the sleeve. She repeated her orders then, several times - first in Russian, then French, “Qu’on l’arrête!”, and German, “Verhafte ihn!”

When the man only stared at her blankly, Catherine turned away again in disgust. “Doesn’t anyone here speak Russian? Besides this madman,” she grimaced, glancing at Nicholas with utmost contempt. “Well some of you must speak French. Arrest this man!” she screamed, for the whole bar to hear.

At this point, the other woman, a Swede named Kristina, broke in, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why exactly should this man be arrested? I am not familiar with either of you.”

“How many times must I repeat myself? I am Yekaterina Alekseyevna, Empress and Autocrat of All the Russias. I am feared throughout the the Empire and the world, and I will be respected.”

King Kristina of Sweden - for that was her title - only nodded along with an absent-minded grin. Little did she know, her own reign predated Catherine’s by more than a century. “You will excuse me, but I’m a little baffled. I’ve never heard of you, and given what your claims are I most certainly would have. Either there is a grave misunderstanding here, or you are quite mad.” Kristina smiled wryly. “I’m sure Emperor Mikhail the First will understand the situation at once, if I were simply to send him a missive? Perhaps have you tried for treason?” Her tone was mocking.

All of this was too much for Catherine, who broke out in fury and bellowed in French, “Seize her! Seize them all!” When nobody reacted, she went on: “Someone tell me immediately where I am and who engineered all this so I may have them executed at once!”

At this point, a woman in her early twenties, most likely a student at a nearby university, coughed nervously and raised her hand to catch Catherine’s attention. When the empress finally calmed down enough to listen, she began to speak, in rather rusty, accented French.

“Excuse me, Madame, but I think that you are maybe, uh…” she paused for a minute to look down at her phone, Googling some vocabulary, “a little inebriated, and… you should stop drinking and maybe go to your, ah, house or hotel.”

Catherine stared at her in utter disbelief. How dare anyone, especially someone of this intruder’s stature - dressed so shabbily, no marks of nobility, no… well, anything - dare to address her so?

“I cannot possibly believe i have to say this again. I am Yeka-”

“You are mad!” Broke in Nicholas II. “Yekaterina II is dead!”

“Nonsense!”

“Has been for two centuries now.” replied the woman with the phone, nodding tiredly.

For once, Catherine was silent. Suddenly, Kristina understood: this strange creature must be some aggrieved madwoman who, in a state of intoxication and with far too much money to her name, had taken to imitating an ancient monarch she’d read about in some obscure history book. Perhaps even in a legend. How tragic.

It was then that Nicholas decided to cut in. “I must admit I am no scholar, but I am quite certain... the great Empress has only been dead a hundred years, at most.”

“I can assure you I am not dead!” screamed Catherine, distraught.

“Look right here. Died, November 17, 1796,” sighed the young woman, holding up her phone. Catherine the Great’s Wikipedia page lit up the faces of the monarchs standing before her.

Kristina gaped. Catherine’s face was stormy with anger. “What is that unholy thing you possess? Must I remind you that divination is beyond illegal? Give it to me,” she barked. “You witch! Hand it over! Give it - ” Catherine snatched the cell phone out of the girl’s hand.

“Excuse me…” the girl made a feeble attempt to grab it back, but Catherine shook her off with a savage wave of her hand.

“Excuse me! Could someone - she just… she just stole my phone,” she mumbled. Someone nearby took out their phone to call the police.

When the cop’s walkie-talkie buzzed in his pocket, he was on his way to the precinct.

“Hey. You still dealing with the bathrobe gang?”

“Just on my way back. They’re at the motel down the street.”

“I have some bad news for you.”

The cop’s face fell. He knew what was coming. “Please tell me there aren't more…”

“Five of them, apparently, but only one is causing trouble. She stole someone's phone, and now she’s screaming about witchcraft. She says she's Catherine the Great, you know, the Russian Empress? And she has no idea what a phone is. I need you to go pick her up, return the phone and… you know. Just... deal with it, okay?”

Within minutes, he was back in the bar. It wasn’t hard to find the disturbance. A few very muscular butch women - Kristina of Sweden darting in among them - were busy wrestling the phone out of Catherine’s hands. Nicholas and his meagre entourage were a ways off, whispering conspiratorially to each other - given the circumstances it seemed best to stick with familiar faces. The other customers were clustered around them, eager to help but unsure as to what should be done.

“Right, stop fighting her. I’ll deal with this.” sighed the police officer. The women let go of Catherine, who dusted herself off then straightened out. Standing to her full height and striking the most regal, powerful and absolutely arrogant post she could muster, she addressed the cop, very patronisingly, in French.

“Hello, young man. I am rather surprised to find myself where I am now. I demand that I be returned to the Hermitage immediately.”

The officer, who spoke only barely enough French to pass his high school language course, was getting used to feeling baffled. He stared at Catherine for a minute, before looking around. “Can I get a translator, please?” He asked in English. “English? Anyone?”

Tsar Nicholas and the young woman whose phone had been taken stepped forward at the same time. After a brief exchange, it became obvious that Tsar Nicholas was the more competent translator.

The officer sighed deeply. This was definitely not going to be easy, and he didn't think he had room for all five of them in his car, he couldn’t leave the royals here and his translator was somehow the last Tsar of Russia. The officer briefly wondered if Nicholas knew he was going to be the last of his dynasty, but of course he didn’t. The most important thing right now was Catherine, as she still had the civilian’s phone. He needed to explain to her what was going on, and very much doubted that Nicholas would approve of his way of handling the situation. Royalty usually wants everything run their way and Nicholas would not be happy with returning the phone to the civilian.

After a few minutes, he decided just to run with the protocol and see where that got him. “Ma’am, please hand over the phone and wait quietly for your arrest.” This was of course said in English, but he glanced over at Nicholas curiously, hoping for a translation. Nicholas translated efficiently and fluently, with the only fault the omission of “Ma’am” and “please”, but this was surely no mistake. Catherine, of course, was not compliant, and was determined to keep the phone. She had tuned out what anyone was saying and was slowly reading her own Wikipedia page.

Since she was not moving, the officer found it easy enough to surprise and handcuff her. As expected, she was absolutely furious and started lashing out viciously. Luckily, the officer had prepared for this and responded quickly. He shot a blank in the air and made use of the general confusion to put Catherine to the floor and grab the phone from her.

“You are under arrest for theft. You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one shall be provided for you.” Nicholas stared at the police officer in disbelief. Surely since Catherine thought herself Russian then He, the Tsar, should be deciding her fate.

“Excuse me, I think I'll do that bit. This is my subject “ said Nicholas. As an add on, he went to take the phone from the police officer, who pointed his gun at George. “If you try and interfere with the legal proceedings, I will be forced to arrest you as well. Don't make this harder for me. You know she isn’t yours. Surely you can tell something is wrong.”

It took Nicholas a few seconds to recover from the shock. He was an ally and an honoured guest in this country and it’s lowers had no right to treat him as such. “Mutiny! Revolution! Seize him! He's a madman listen to what he's saying.” announced Nicholas. Realising that something violent might happen, the gang of butch women quickly swooped behind Nicholas and, two on each arm, and positioned him in front of the officer, on the floor, next to Catherine, in a position that made it easy enough for the officer to handcuff the King.

“You are under arrest for disorderly conduct, violence towards a police officer and attempted theft. You have the-” The officer tried to end his usual mini speech but was cut off by Nicholas. “Do not ever attempt to tell me what I can and cannot do! Unhand me at once!” He bellowed. With a very decisive lurch, he tried to get up. Unfortunately for him, it becomes harder to balance when your hands are cuffed and he was quickly returned to the floor.

Seeing the state the officer had put their Tsar in, Felix rushed to his assistance. Dmitry, however, grabbed his wrist and held him back. “It might be best to remain free, at least for the moment. We can follow him, ask to escort him.” said Dmitry.

Felix nodded. “As you like. Caution doesn’t usually agree with me, but I will admit I’m a little disoriented.”

Dmitry almost smiled. If only Felix were always so thoughtful. “Excuse me,” he tapped the officer’s shoulder. “Excuse me. I am Grand Duke Dmitry Pavlovich of Romanov. This man,” he gestured to the handcuffed figure of Nicholas on the floor, “is my cousin.”

The officer looked at him blankly. Dmitry had been speaking French.

The two called for a translator at the same time. Nicholas was too busy grumbling to pay attention. The young woman from earlier, whose phone had now been returned to her and who was now standing by the bar with a bottle of beer, was brought over.

“Which is… ah, what is the problem, sir?” she asked Dmitry hesitantly.

“Count Yusupov and I would like to accompany my cousin the Tsar to… well, wherever this man plans to take him,” the Grand Duke replied.

The girl translated to the officer. “No problem,” he laughed. “We have a right party over at the station already. A couple more can’t hurt.”

“You can come,” the young woman translated back to Dmitry, who nodded curtly.

“By the way,” the officer added, “you’ll come with us, won’t you? None of us can get by very well in French, and we might need an unbiased account. For filing, you know. Nothing serious.”

“Oh. Well, yeah, sure. I guess so.”

“Sorry to keep you up, but… well. It’s not just any old thing, is it?”

“I guess not.”

The party got up to leave and determined they would not be able to transport Catherine and Nicholas with only the officer… well… dragging. Kristina had also noticed this issue and rushed over to help. Since it would be extremely indecent for the count and the grand duke to forcefully remove the Tsar, they both went to help with Catherine. Kristina and one of her new friends each took one of Nicholas’s arms and the company of six, as well as their two prisoners, made their way towards the vehicle and loaded the two Russian rulers into the back. The officer got in the driver’s seat, the translator in the passenger seat and the two butch women, Kristina and her new acquaintance - her name was Erin, she found out - in tow.

[recentanimenews]

Seven Seas Licenses Go Nagai’s Honey Cutie

Seven Seas is having a banner year: not only was its best-selling title orange nominated for an Eisner Award, it also nabbed the publishing rights to Captain Harlock and Devilman. September brought a fresh crop of licensing announcements, most of which sound like titles that Seven Seas is already publishing. There’s a yuri vampire comedy, Hungry For You: Endo Yasuko Stalks the Night; a light novel adaptation, If It’s for My Daughter, I’d Even Defeat a Demon Lord; a superhero spoof, Precarious Woman Executive Miss Black General; and a monster manga, Little Devils. The most exciting announcement, however, was that Seven Seas picked up another classic Go Nagai title, Cutie Honey. Nagai’s series — one of the first shonen manga to feature a female protagonist — ran in the pages of Weekly Shonen Champion from 1973 to 1974, inspiring an animated television show, an OVA, a live-action series, and manga “reboots” in the 1990s and 2000s. Look for the English edition of Cutie Honey in July 2018, when Seven Seas will release a single, hardcover volume that collects all of Nagai’s original stories.

MANGA, ANIME AND JAPANESE POP CULTURE

Brigid Alverson interviews manga editor Yumi Sukimune, who is currently working with Akiko Higashimura on Princess Jellyfish and Tokyo Tarareba Girls. Though most of their conversation focuses on manga publishing, Sukimune also reflects on the important role of shojo manga in helping young women find their place in society. “Japanese women have recently begun to take action not only in ways that clearly lead to progress for women in society, like resisting sexual harassment or abuse of power, but also by declaring that we want to raise the profile of things we like rather than allow the world to be governed by men’s values, and I think Japan’s “kawaii” culture is connected to that,” Sukimune observes. “Japanese girls who have naturally enjoyed shojo manga from the time they were little have great inner strength. They are the real-life versions of the shojo heroines that have always been depicted as possessing the strength of positive self-affirmation, gained by transforming themselves into who they want to be.” [B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog]

Italian translator and manga scholar Paolo La Marca sings the praises of manga-ka Kamimura Kazuo (Lady Snowblood, Dosei jidei), calling him “the ukiyo-e master of Shōwa-era manga.” [Nippon]

What makes Dragon Ball so good? Brian Ashcraft offers a panel-by-panel breakdown of Akira Toriyama’s masterful layouts to make that case that Toriyama’s storyboarding game is among the best in business. [Kotaku]

ICYMI: Kelly Chiu lists seven great sports manga, from Ace of the Diamond to Yowamushi Pedal. [B&N Sci-Fi & Fantasy Blog]

Congratulations to Erica Friedman, who recently celebrated her fifteenth blogoversary! [Okazu]

Who knew anyone at The New Republic was watching Death Note? [The New Republic]

Zack Davisson just shared the cover art for his forthcoming book Kaibyo: The Supernatural Cats of Japan, “an in-depth exploration of the sometimes charming, sometimes gruesome feline creatures and ghosts of Japan.” Kaibyo will be released on a particularly fitting day: October 31st. [Twitter]

From Russia with love? East Press just released Understanding Through Manga: Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin, a bio-manga about the most powerful Russian leader since Mikhail Gorbachev. Toe Shinme’s artwork is crude, to put it mildly; in Shinme’s hands, Putin looks more like a character on The Simpsons than the bare-chested, tiger-wrestling, election-tampering leader of the former USSR. No word on whether the content is better than the presentation. [Anime News Network]

Next Technology has invented an adorable robot puppy whose primary job is to detect pungent foot odor. No, really. [The Japan Times]

Here’s another product I didn’t know I needed: manga tape. [Stone Bridge Press]

Scholars Lucy Fraser and Masafumi Monden just published an important new article in the field of manga studies in which they observe that academics have privileged “subversive” shojo manga over the more mundane-seeming otomechikku (“maidenesque”) genres aimed at young female readers. Using the work of Takase Ryo as the focal point of their analysis, Fraser and Monden aim to address this deficit in the literature, arguing that “[r]ather than simply maintaining conservative norms of femininity and heterosexual romance, these works explore gender issues within the ‘safe’ trappings of girlishness.” [Asian Studies Review]

By: Katherine Dacey