sainamoonshine
Saïna MoonShine
The fandom blog of an illustrator, author, graphic designer and awards-nominated comic artist. Main blog at blog.blanchetmarie.com Formerly sainatsukino Become a Patron!
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"Sex is what makes us human" is stupid. Almost every species fucks. Humans are the only species that jumps motorcycles over school buses that are on fire. Some other things too probably
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A Metaphor's Guide to Rewriting Destiny
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I returned to the hotel’s staff quarters just in time to interrupt what seemed to be a heated debate between Compassion and our hosts. The scholars, whom I had only met in passing and whose name I had not bothered to remember, seemed agitated. They were crowded into the staff kitchen and blocked my way towards the stairs to the basement, where the hotel’s workers shared a few cramped rooms. Of those workers, only four or five were present, and they stayed in the back of the kitchen, clustered around the stove. Whatever it was that the scholars were proposing, they did not seem to like it very much, and neither did Compassion.
Jeanne, whose opinion I already trusted more than any man’s here, stood hesitantly near the door. When I walked in, she gave a sigh of relief.
“Where have you been!” she hissed.
Compassion heard her and spared me a glance. Then another, his gaze flicking down to my new cane then back up at my face with a questioning look. My hands tightened on the pommel and I raised an eyebrow. How interesting that he had recognized the hidden weapon at a glance. Once more, the Exemplar of being-nice-to-people showed surprising hidden depths.
The others in the room noticed Compassion’s distraction and looked over as well. Once they saw me, a great clamor rose, everybody trying to speak at once. Then one of the young men — the one who seemed to be in charge of this circus —, yelled for silence and they settled down.
“Miss Rage,” he began, spreading his hands imploringly at me. “We require your help, and time is of the essence.”
“Mrs.,” I corrected coldly.
“My apologies?”
“It is Mrs. Rage,” I repeated. “But go on.”
He seemed thrown off balance, and once more my accoutrements seemed to cause the room a great amount of discomfort and consternation. But he rallied valiantly, and started anew: “Mrs. Rage, you need to come with us at once. There is a man about to leave Lutèce, and he must see you before his train departs. It is of the utmost importance.”
“Why?”
“He is the leader of a trade union in the provinces,” supplied Compassion calmly. “And he has refused to join the anti-monarchist’s crusade unless they can prove to him that their movement has teeth, and is not just made up of words. They want to parade you in front of him like a propaganda piece.”
“That is not what we said!” argued the young man. He was tall and lean, blonde, and looked very charismatic — in a dangerous sort of way. I had known too many charming young men capable of leading others into horrors to ever be able to trust his ilk. “We simply want him to meet her, that’s all,” he insisted.
“You do not want me to speak,” I said, “because I know nothing about your movement nor would I be able to speak convincingly about it. You simply want me to be there so that you can prove that I am on your side. It does sound very much like being a propaganda piece.”
Not that it mattered very much to me, so used was I to it. But I wanted to see if the boy would be honest enough to admit it, or if he was so far up his own hubris that he did not even realize what he was truly asking me for.
He looked at me beseechingly. “We are planning a large demonstration in the streets on Liberty day. When the entirely of Lutèce walks to the parliament, the minister will have no choice but to recognize the will of the people and resign! Then, nothing will be able to stop us. We can take the palace as well, and make even the king see that we’ve had enough! But for that to work, we need people to overcome their fear and walk with us! And if we cannot find enough courage in Lutèce, then I am willing to look elsewhere. Jules-Honoré Ambreville has strong ties with the rail workers — if we convince him to help, then he could bring in people from all over Theos to join the march. It could double or even triple our numbers! We need his support, but so far we’ve not managed to convince him that it would be worth his and his people’s time. If we can just show him that we mean business, that we have a decent chance of succeeding — that we mean it… why, we could rewrite the course of Theos’ history!”
Throughout the room, people were now standing straighter, their eyes shining with hope and fervor. I almost rolled my eyes at them. What we had here was a zealot, and a convincing one at that. How wonderful. I had been right in my first estimation of the situation; this young man could lead sheep into slaughter, and they would thank him for it. He had a knack for good speeches, and what’s worse, he seemed to strongly believe in what he was saying. And now, not satisfied with leading men, he wanted to appear to his allies with Rage at his side as well. It was undeniable that my presence would lend weight to his cause. But I wondered whether he was truly prepared for the cost of that weight. Bright-eyed idealists seldom were.
I also wondered what he was doing in academia. Give this man a battalion, and he would lead it. Give him a country, and he would bring it either to glory or to ruin, or both. Give him a revolution… well, the result remained to be seen.
“Having an Exemplar on your side is far from a convincing enough argument,” argued Compassion. “It is grandstanding, and if Ambreville has any sense he will see right through it. You will only harm your own cause by relying on boasts rather than substance. I did not bring Rage here for her to be a chess piece for you to use.”
I was about to interject, but Jeanne was faster. She stepped towards Compassion and snapped: “Are you going to make all of her decisions for her, or are you going to let her speak?!”
Compassion’s eyes widened, then caught mine. A silent communication passed between us. He already knew what I was about to answer, just as surely as I knew why he had tried to oppose it. He did not wish for me to be used like a thing. Unfortunately for his poor sensitivities, I was so used to it that it barely even registered anymore. He winced and inclined his head.
“I apologize for overstepping. It is your choice, of course.”
“Then let’s go. You said time was of the essence, didn’t you?”
I turned heels and stalked out of the room, forcing them all to scramble after me. I took a small pleasure in making them hurry to catch up, throwing their well-practiced countenances in disarray, knowing that I had just locked myself into a passive role for the foreseeable future but wanting them to remember that I still had a spine.
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Kalipso is a science-fiction and fantasy webcomic about people from various worlds (an epic fantasy planet, a steampunk planet, etc) who end up on an alien spaceship in space
VERSION FRANÇAISE // READ ON PATREON // NEWSLETTER // MARIE’S ART BLOG // READ ON TAPAS // BUY FIRST VOLUME
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Hiroyuki Sanada as Lord Yoshii Toranaga in Shōgun (2024)
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I write for myself
*checks AO3 every few hours to see if I got any new kudos, comments or subscriptions*
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I knew it was coming and my husband was like
Shogun ep 7 mood
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Shogun (Ep 7)
Yabu is the most relatable character, frustrated by everyone's mind games when he just wants to get paid and get drunk.
It's like you just want to work but gets dragged into your colleagues and bosses office politics because they want promotions.
😂
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whenever i'm trying to talk myself out of buying something i don't need i always hear my old russian professor's voice echoing in my head: "WHAT??? WILL YOU DIE THE RICHEST MAN IN THE GRAVEYARD?" and then i make an unwise financial decision
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I don't trust anyone who hasn't acknowledged their capacity for evil.
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