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I got the first volume of the Murderbot Diaries today because I really enjoyed the show (and honestly ive been vaguely aware of it via tumblr and friends singing its praises for a few years - I just don't read a lot of scifi), and the bookseller tried to warn me that it was 'not like the show with the prettyboy lead' and that 'it's not about all that becoming human stuff - it just wants to be left alone' and that 'in the books, Murderbot doesn't even take its helmet off ever.'
And I was planning on saving this book until I finished my current one, but I was curious after all these warnings. And like
- the narration, in fact, does feel exactly like 'the show with the prettyboy lead'. Almost as if, gee, the narration has nothing to do with that
- i never thought the show was about Murderbot becoming human
- Murderbot literally spends almost two whole chapters without a helmet at the very start of the book.
Like, I understand that fans of the books were upset about the casting - I get it. I understand why. But if anyone was distracted by the 'prettyboy casting', it was the guy selling me the book. Calm down.
"I Can Survive" by Triumph
"Never Give Up" by Sammy Hagar
"Finally Found A Home" by Huey Lewis & The News
"Summer of '69" by Bryan Adams
"I Wanna Go Back" by Eddie Money
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the curse may actually be repenting if you have hurt other lesbians in the past….
First of all... I was born with this curse because it was passed down from my parents so jot that down
Second of all... I have this conspiracy that ur the same anon who's sent me weird invasive shit for months... its kinda giving someone who knows me irl who is bitter
*CW for description of blood and gore.. and Ethel.
[WAYNE MANOR DRAWING ROOM - 17:09]
Brriiingg
The old woman who is probably fine with being called old steps forward - but Ethel takes swift, long strides across the large room, and picks up the phone in one quick swoop.
She was about to answer, but the person on the other end of the phone was somehow faster than she was.
“Hellllllooooo, Brucie!” The man's voice was enthusiastic, with some sort of accent.
She knew the voice. She had met him before, several times. She knew him. Knew him. Knew him. Knew him. Ethel was hungry. She was craving-
“Beetroots!” She shouted into the phone.
“Ah! A fan,” the man on the other phone said, “but not Brucie, can you put him on?”
“You owe me £10.”
The man fell silent for a moment, “who is this?”
“Who is this?” She repeated the man's words.
“Nu uh, I asked you first.”
“Did you?” She asked, because did he?
“Ooh,” the man began, “I don't like you.”
“You owe me £10,” Ethel could do with the money, she could do.. something with it. She turned around and found eleven other ‘people’ (they may not be, not everybody is a person). Where did they come from? They weren't always there, were they?
The old-ish man in glasses mouthed something about margaritas to her. She didn't think this was neither the time nor place because people are dying - or just sleeping. Probably just sleeping. Snoring away like-
“Can you get Bruce Wayne, please?” The man sounded annoyed and desperate, which is certainly not a good tone for him. He can't host with that sort of attitude can he?
“What do you need him for?”
The man coughed, “personal.. matters.”
“Ethel, What's going on?” the old woman called from the other side of the room.
“André Beetroot wants to have sex with Bruce Wayne,” Ethel said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, because it was.
“Wait,” the small man who was dressed for cold weather tilted his head ever so slightly, “André Beetroot?”
“Who's that?” Ethel asked.
The small cold man looked taken aback, for reasons she didn't understand, “but you just said-”
“He owes me £20.”
The man on the phone scoffed, “what? But you said £10! Why do I even owe you money? I don't even know who you are!”
“You said I couldn't sink the Titanic, we bet on it.”
“We- you did what?”
“Ate a squirrel.”
“No, no, not-” there was a sigh, “Wait I go on the Titanic? Did you just spoil that for me? I swear if you spoiled that for me-”
“You were, I was there, I saw you, I was there. You were there to host an ice carving competition.”
“An.. ice carving competition on the.. Titanic?”
“You owe me £30.”
“Okay, shut up. Put Bruce on the phone.”
“Can't.”
“Can't?”
“He's resting his eyes,” Ethel shrugged, the other eleven (when did they get there?) looked at her with pride. Definitely pride.
“Can you wake-”
“Nope.”
“Right, why not?”
“You owe me £40.”
The man made a grunt of annoyance, “listen, lady, I'm on a time crunch here and it would be really appreciated if-”
The lights went out, and the man stopped talking.
“Hello?” She called into the phone, “helllloooooo? I'm still listening, helloooooooo.”
“What's happening?” Another voice said, a woman's voice, “is everybody okay?”
“The man's stopped responding, he owed me £20,” Ethel pouted in the dark.
And, not a moment later, the lights came back on without warning. It didn't take Ethel long to notice that one of the old-timey women had laid herself down on one of the velvet sofas, the one without a back. Her white blanket-thing she wore as a dress had been stained red, the red coming from her chest where a broken wine glass had embedded itself - how clumsy.
Ethel tutted as she realised she had probably choked on the grapes in her mouth, what a waste. She walked over to the old-timey woman and plucked a grape from the stem and popped it in her mouth.
maybe it's just a me-and-frev thing but i wish people didn't use historian terminology so often to describe ideas already given language during the historical event. don't say the executions were determining "citizens and uncitizens" - first of all, ahistorical, citizens (most notably citizen capet???) and non-citizens alike were executed, and second of all, the revolutionary metric was not "how much of a (loyal) citizen are you?" (though the fear of "foreign" enemies, when nationalism tied with republicanism and when they were literally at their doorstep, is undeniably a factor), but whether you were actively attempting to disrupt its course. they're called counterrevolutionaries. describing them in terms of citizenship obfuscates your understanding of what the executions were for
