Incredibly Witty Title Pending

is this machamp’s name “homo matsuri”

as in

“Dig” in Japanese was originally “Ana wo horu,” which translates to “Dig a hole,” with the direct object’s being “Ana,” “a hole” and the verb’s being “horu,” “dig.”

The common writing of “ana,” “穴,” is the same as a colloquial term for the buttocks, “ketsu.”

“Horu,” in addition to it’s more standard definition, is also a slang verb meaning “to have anal sex (between two men).”

3 can be san or mi. 1 can be ichi, hi, or to.

mito is a polite archaic word for genetalia.

I have never done a webcomic before, so I'd like to hear how you thought it worked! It's okay if you didn't think it worked, just be kind in how you say it. The chapters got longer and longer, so it took me longer and longer, but I would say on balance, i thought it was REALLY intriguing and i love Duane.

I actually am bummed I can't buy the books. I would read this, probably. But I know I won't on a screen, that's half of what took me so fucking long is I hate reading things on a screen.

I only got about half way through before time! 

So in the beginning of this one, we sort of go back to the first chapter when he and the Crescian fight. I asked what the deal was with the corpse in chapter one, and we see it, or I think it’s it, again, when he is on top of the guy. I don’t say this because I really have anything for it, just saying I’m impressed that we’re managing to keep track of these threads. 

I can’t quite figure out if the <> is Matty and his dad speaking another language or speaking telepathically. I am leaning toward speaking another language, just because given some of the things we’re seeing it makes sense, but I’m not 100%. Also very interested in Matty’s statement that his father “Just forgets what people are sometimes” How and where could that be coming out of? 

Duane continues to be wonderful, as we all expect with him “settling for your survival into adulthood” and I’m interested to see if the Aldish ARE indeed terrible, and how we feel about that what with how we feel about Duane. Because he very much thinks the Aldish are right! So it’s not just a question of, “Well, being Aldish isn’t a sin” but if they are so terrible, how do we sit with that and with Duane? 

Speaking of Duane! I also love that his body doe genuinely cause him problems. I squealed with delight when we saw that he has to wear a brace on his leg to keep himself going. I’ll take it where I can get it. 

I really like the way they do Jivi’s dreams.  One of the things I think this comic does really effectively is use art to show changes in both place but also in a sort of…time and emotion. Jivi’s dream is a really striking example of how well that works, i knew what was happening immediately without having to be told. 

My eyebrows of course immediately perked at the plat being ‘dead in five years.’ So what does all THAT mean, and it must have something to do with the color of his hair as an indicator. What does that mean for his future and what he's trying to secure?

So magic must be called pymary? So it would seem. 

INTERESTING MORAL QUANDRY HERE, with the plods. So I mean, conventional wisdom would say that something that is already dead could be used as a beast of burden, and that there wouldn’t be any in particular moral problem with that. That would be my thought, at least. But the way they cast it through Duane’s eyes makes sense, of course: he, too, is an undead thing, and could the same argument that he’s a stupid zombie not be made? What is the line here, and is it easy to winnow out? Especially since Duane suffers from the same desire for blood and flesh and given plod does. It seems to me that it’s not so much even that Duane is worried about the inherent humanity of the plods as he is his own INHUMANITY, and how as a galit, he has his mind and his will, but still struggles with the desires of a plod. 

The ABSOLUTE GENIUS, again, talking about how the art choices here are so uniquely good at conveying feeling in a way I’m not used to, of the way they do the page when someone beats a plod to breaking, when he’s getting so close to wanting blood himself.:

Having those panels covered in blood, just, I never would have thought of it and I think it’s so clever. 

My feelings about Duane and kids seem to get confirmed when Sette is crying, for fear that she’ll be done away with if she can’t accomplish this mission, and we see who has to be some little girl from his past. As absolutely annoying as Sette can be, and let me tell you, i would have killed her five times over by now, Duane clearly has an affinity for children, but also specifically for her, and i can see tiny tiny signs that she may in fact be growing up a little bit

This chapter was much, much longer than the first chapter which isn't a complaint just so we're all aware.

I find the way Duane talks to be very pleasant and poetic, actually there are a few things I particularly liked: 

I sat and thought about that for a little bit. 

Also, in a not sitting and thinking way, but in a, “I need to have either Michiru or Roy say this in a fic” way:

I really enjoy reading the way he talks, it’s in a style I immediately take to and I find myself lingering over it, but also I like that each character so far has such distinct voice, it’s very easy to tell who’s talking once you get used to them, and all of it feels very organic and correct. 

I am not very good at commenting on art, it’s just something I don’t have a good background in and so don’t really have the ability for what I would consider good commentary, but even I notice that the work in this comic is beautiful. Story-wise, we’re in extremely early days and so it’s impossible to tell where it’s going to go, though I suspect Sette is going to learn more than a few hard lessons and someone come around--which is good because right about now I’m going to kill her myself--but it’s too soon to say much about its quality in that way. However, art-wise, it has somet GLORIOUS bits, I think this was my favorite:

So  Duane has something going on that would involve the little girl who he comes across, cut. Not that he can’t just be a good guy for the sake of it, i think we proved that with him saving the milk kids fro slavery. But there’s something in the way it’s drawn, the hazy way that she remembers her mother and sister dying of the plague and the effect that has on him that seems to goo far beyond just general empathy for a little girl who didn’t do anything wrong. Obviously, so much that we don’t know about Duane, his past, or what he even IS: Galit is, to me, just a Hebrew name. A cute hebrew name, but just a Hebrew girl’s name. It doesn’t really mean anything to me. So, we know because of how many times the story tels us, that he’s undead, but not a zombie. He’s obviously INCREDIBLY powerful, and I have no idea if that has anything to do with who he was before he was dead, or if this a a galit-powered situation. 

This is obviously just an introduction to our characters and the world. I knew nothing about this webcomic before I started it, and so I didn’t even know it was some kind of fantasy. 

Sette is annoying as hell though in fairness I am reasonably sure the narrative wants me to take that position. She constantly disrespects literally everything and everyone she meets, and it’s been a long time since I have felt as bad for someone in a piece of media as I feel for her bodyguard. I think he should just let Sette get eaten. 

I have basically no expectations of this comic at this point! Not in a negative way, just in a “Genuinely I have no idea what is going to happen or how I’m going to feel about it” way. 

In this panel:

I am having trouble parsing what’s happening. Don’t tell me, but I can’t figure out if he knows all this just from his badge, or if, him being undead has some kind of undead has an effect on the way he can see the dead. Or their lives, rather. 

dont buy them what they want. people want garbage. you want garbage,. and then when you get it you dont like it. dont ask them what they want either, they dont know. you want to get them something they will not buy for themselves

think about what they would actually use. this can be a replacement for something they used to use that broke, but not an 'upgrade' unless they have specifically expressed wanting a new one. do not buy anything that could be construed as you criticising their way of doing something. if tthey are currently doing something the wrong way and are aware there is a right way but dont do it, there's a reason

think about what they have room in their space to store. when you give someone a gift it becomes an obligation to them regardless of how much they like the gift. they have to store it, look at it, and interact with it, they have to thank you for it too. keep this in mind. small or flat and non-fragile items are best. for example if someone expresses a desire for a houseplant, i will often give them a clone of one of my impossible to kill grandmother plants and then tell them go ahead and kill it, there's plenty more where that one came from and the mother plant doesnt care. never give someone an obligation or strings attached to a gift unless you hate them. do not ask them if they like it or if they're using it afterwards, either. they'll tell you if they do. if not it's better to let it slide

think about situations where they coudl easily and pleasantly use this gift but which they have not thought of themselves. for example your straight male roommate probably doesnt have a fucking bathrobe

think about things they already choose to spend time on and enjoy. for example, my mom said she was starting to think about her novel but didnt know where to start. i bought her a pack of really nice index cards and told her about Nabokov's method of writing sentences and then freely arranging them. index cards are good for everything, not just novel writing. theyre cheap, flat, dont expire, and are visually neutral, and cheap. plus she likes stationery a lot anyway. GREAT gift.

keep it cheap (again this is for someone who doesnt want/need anything). expensive gifts are too much of an obligation for everyone involved and usually more stressful than helpful unless someone needs something specific (like a computer or phone)

do not buy them anything decorative. decorations are way too personal. the expectation is that they have to display it in their house forever or you might get your feelings hurt. bad gift

"i really liked this item/product/tool so i got one for you too because you have the same use case that i do" is a really good gift if you know this is the situation. for example maybe you and your sister have the same skin tone and you found a blush that looks great on your skin. maybe you and your friend both like fountain pens and you found an ink you really like. maybe you and your mom both get migraines and you found an icepack you really like. etc.

I repeated the experiment later, wearing the boots but otherwise my usual clothing and mimicking the expression I thought I’d had at that moment. People parted like I was Charlton Heston.

I now wear that style of boots whenever possible. I recently had a man do a double-take as I walked by and ask me, politely, where I had served because I “looked like a soldier.” I’m not current or former military. I was wearing a flowy purple peasant top and looked as un-soldierlike as possible.

Wheel like you’re gonna win the Indy 500 and don’t care how.

Your crutches are short swords; walk like you can see them buried in the bodies of anyone who crosses (in front of) you.

This wasn’t very easy to cap, believe me, I tried multiple times, but when Rue sees Mytho and Tutu, she transforms, and huge storm kicks up, wrapping both mytho and tutu in feathers and darkness. It’s really cool, as a transformation consequence or action, I must say, no matter how hard it is to get a good cap of. 

She takes the heart shard, and I am confused. AS I understand the story (and PLEASE don’t correct me if I’m wrong) the Raven was sealed away in Mytho’s heart, and then it was broken into peices to protect the town. So…wouldn’t they want Mytho’s heart to be restored? Would that not meet their end goal here? Can we not have Princess Crow work with Tutu, until they get the heart together? 

I love the central theme of that! I don’t NORMALLY read webcomics because I can’t deal with how long it takes to get where we’re going. It takes me less than a minute to read your average webcomic update. reading relatively slowly this page: http://drmcninja.com/archives/comic/9p34/ took me less than 20 seconds, I timed it. So waiting for a week to get twenty seconds of story doesn’t work for me. 

http://www.casualvillain.com/Unsounded/comic_shop.html

Volumes 1 and 3 are available in physical copies, but unfortunately volume 2 is out of stock and unlikely to be reprinted any time soon.

.pdfs of all three volumes are available, but they lack both the extra features included in the physical print volumes and the animations and url eastereggs, etc. of the web pages. (I don’t know if you care about such things, but they’re there.)

The author said she’d look at compiling the fourth .pdf volume since it doesn’t seem like the printing issues will be clearing up soon, so that’s coming.

In the meantime, the web comic itself is formally divided into chapters, with the author taking a break each time one is completed. I don’t know if a full chapter is satiating enough for you but you could also choose a block of completed chapters and then wait (each collected volume prints 3).

The comic index is here:

“Now, now, Uranus, I don’t believe you’re nearly so stupid as you pretend.” Her voice was soft and smooth, the way caramel runs over the top of ice cream, when its hot. Michiru’s voice does that sometimes. Sometimes it makes me feel a certain kind of way. 

But not here. Here it reminds that MIchiru can to that with her voice while she sliding a dagger into someone’s back. . 

Not that this bitch is sliding into my back. 

“Believe it, Lady.” I laugh at her.. “Ask anyone, I am a fucking moron.” 

It was true, what i told her, but it gets answered by some lackey cracking his metal knuckles into my side. I can feel them bend and give and crack like the sound of ice when you step on it. Pain is bright, you know. Like when someone puts a floodlight in your face. That was two sides, now. Every breath is just another decision to torture myself, to feel my body crunch while the pebbles that were my ribs in there roll around

“Sailor Uranus, are you aware that you can die?” She asks me like she finally believes that I’m fucking stupid. 

“Sure am!” I yell it at her through the bright, and she must have found it rude because I hear myself scream almost before a feel it, the sharp blow of a metal bar into my knee. 

I did like running, at least. Probably not again, I guess. I won’t give up the rest of them. It’s true what I said, that I’m stupid, that I don’tt know that much anyway, because MIna didn’t tell me, and so there There’s really nothing that I can give up. But they don’t know that. They don’t know that I’ m stupid, and if they’re here hurting me, they can’t be looking for everyone else. 

I’m gonna die here. I’m hurt bad. I’m broken on the inside, and I don’t know how long I can keep going. I’m already starting to get confused, but I have to keep trying. The girls are depending on me. I’m tough. I need to hold out as long as I can. Then they can get into position. They can get away. 

Guess I don’t have to worry about running, at least. 

God, I hope this guy hits me hard enough to kill me soon. He’s like me. He’s an idiot and a battering ram and god I hope he fucks up. I’m so tired. 

I love you, Michiru. I’m protecting you here. 

She must have just said something to me that I didn’t hear. I don’t always hear right, and I’m having trouble now. He hits me again, in the other knee. Crunch. Snap. Another bright light in my face. Another minute bought for them. I’m doing really good. I’ve got to stay awake. I’ve got to keep her interested. 

I lean back my head, as best I can. “Fuck you, bitch.”

I’m not very clever. I know that. But a baseball bat isn’t either, and it still works. 

It works. She takes something out of a box, and it digs into my shoulder, and oh my god she finds the nerve and she pulls and pulls and I’m screaming, I’m screaming so loud I feel my vocal cords strain and start to rub against each other, sore. They’ll be bleeding soon. I almost black out when she pulls back. It takes me awhile to realize I’m crying. 

But I still didn’t say anything. Nothing at all. 

I close my eyes. Michiru’s there, in my head. In her wedding dress. She was so pretty, that day. Mina’s there too, and she’s teasing me. I can be there, just for a second, just to remember why I won’t give up. It’ll stop hurting soon enough. Gotta make it last as long as you can. It’s a marathon, but I can do it. 

I’ve been panting from the scream, and the broken glass in my chest is rubbing every muscle up and down as I do it, cutting a new line in me every time. Maybe I’ll die after they get here. Maybe I’ll get to see Michiru one more time. But you gotta hang on for that to happen. You gotta hang on, Haruka, even though it hurts. 

She’s laughing at me. She’s having fun hurting me. She thinks I’ll give up, that I’m weak, but I’m not. I’m strong as hell. Maybe that makes me a better toy. But I’m doing my job. I’m doing a good job. 

She yanks my hair back, so I have to look her in the face. All there is, is mean there. Mean and hateful and that makes her so ugly I can’t even tell you what the rest of her looks like. I don’t think I could even if there wasn’t a bunch of salt and pepper static waving through my eyes. 

“You are aware you can die, so you say.”  She drags a knife across my palm. That must be where we’re going next. “But are you aware–” 

She stabs it through my hand, and I my throat rips open from screaming. It bleeding now too, along with the rest of me, and I can taste the thick iron of what’s left of my life. I can’t hold my head up anymore, and it falls against my chest. 

Nothing doing. She tips my chin up with the blade. 

“–that I won’t let you?” 

All she can threaten me with is life now, and she knows it. Fuck you, lady. Life has been a threat since I was born. 

I open my eyes as wide as they’ll go now, and give her a bright smile. 

“I’m fucking counting on it.” 

His fist plows into my cheekbone. 

It’s amazing how much information you convey by absence, especially regarding the characters’ dynamics at the time of this story.

Haruka might tell herself she is sacrificing herself for all the girls in her mind, but the only ones she names are Minako and Michiru, because as her best friend and wife they’re far more important to her. In absolute agony, facing death, priorities become clear. And what her thoughts say about those relationships! Michiru grounds her, and gives her strength, but it’s Minako she trusts to have a plan. Minako who will respect her sacrifice and make it meaningful. For all that she loves Michiru, she’s grown enough to acknowledge, at least subconsciously, that they’re not on the same page re: sacrifice for others. Maybe even that they never were. Even though she hopes to see her again, she doesn’t expect anything more than personal comfort for herself.

Which in a way means she sees her best friend as having more respect for her than her own wife. Even if she can only bring those two in particular to her pain addled mind, she still wants to be a hero to all of them, and Minako gave her that chance (maybe outright ordered her to do it? Even mentioning that someone needed to do it would probably be enough to get Haruka to volunteer. Cold, brutal, brilliantly efficient manipulation. But is it manipulation if someone wants to do what you merely brought to their attention? Dammit, how do you raise such a complicated line of ethical quandary from a single line of dialogue? What is your secret?).  She wants to give everything she has, even to her death to achieve that goal. Her wife wouldn’t have let her. Her best friend encouraged her. Both are important, each comforting in their own way, and Haruka needs both.

A final heartbreaking note: Haruka doesn’t once think that any of the girls she’s protecting would mourn her. She wants to see Michiru once more, but she doesn’t think of what the sight of Haruka’s broken and dying body would do to her wife. Over and over she thinks about how she’s only good as a damage sponge, a distraction. Romantic love, love between friends, it’s not enough to heal low self esteem, self hatred, and depression. There’s still a part of Haruka that wants to die, as long as she can die a hero. What else does she have to give the world? To offer to the people she loves? She’s not even asking herself that anymore because she’s so sure she knows the answer.

You could be on to something~

1. Some kind of connection to Sette, a girl who neither ages nor has reproductive organs of her own.

2. Keeping the fetuses in the Khert tied down, despite their pleas for release.

3. The sign of devotion she requires from her followers is specifically castration, preventing them from reproducing and creating new growth in the form of children.

4. She doesn’t seem to teach her Black Tongues fundamental principles about the Khert that would allow them to truly grow and experiment on their own.  By and large, they seem extremely reliant on her to guide their specific projects, which is why they were so lost when they abandoned them.

5. Her current tack with Duane, encouraging him to stagnate despite her rhapsodizing about humanity’s growth to its current state.

For @yamadara87‘s fic, I combined two things I know she loves: Michiru, and Michiru being warm to Usagi. I hope everyone enjoys this nice MaS fic! 

Whether she was atoning for her own sins or for Mamoru’s, even Michiru did not know. The divorce had gone through quickly, thanks to the application of good lawyers and the lack of fighting. Usagi had surrendered, after a few awkward weeks of her claiming that she could love Mamoru enough for the both of them, and a dinner out with Rei where anything might have explained, but Michiru imagined was along the lines of, “Usagi, some people are the homosexual kind of gay.” 

Whatever frustrations Michiru might have with Rei in the day to day, there was something to be said for her ability to wield, not a rapier, as Michiru did, thin and sharp and quick, but her own certain style of conversational poleaxe. 

Michiru would have told anyone, not even four years ago, that she knew herself entirely. She knew her own mind, and her own heart, and what she wanted and did not want. Michiru knew who she loved, and how, and she knew what she would do in any given situation. It might have been true, when she said it, but at that time, Michiru knew, she was a much simpler creature. 

The stories are lies, she often thought. Love does not simplify things, it complicates them. The more love one holds, the more complicated everything becomes. It was easy to live solely for Haruka. It was more complicated to live for the intricate web of love she had formed in the rubble of that last battle. It had softened her in places she had not expected, lime dripping on the stone of her garden walls until they began to disintegrate in places. They would never come down–Michiru had built them too well–but there would be spaces where birds and squirrels could slip in and out, spaces where bees and butterflies could bring it to life, and bloom. 

And so it was that she found herself having a sleepover with Usagi Tsukino. 

It has been a month since I read this on a bored afternoon, and I still can’t get this line out of my head. It’s such a beautiful expression of the nuances of love. I’ve never experienced any sentiment that cut to the heart of this uniqueness of experience so succinctly and elegantly, and I want to steal for it myself since I doubt I could ever invent it’s equal.  Or even a distant silver.

I wish I could speak more to nuances of character in the rest of the fic, but Sailor Moon is more a nostalgic pleasure than a deep passion for me.  That said, the characters ring very true to what I remember, and it feels right that it would take this degree of growth of and change for people as different as Michiru and Usagi to reach this degree of... camaraderie and comfort with each others’ presence.