YAMI NO PURPLE EYE – what the fucking fuck Shinohara Chie


Rinko is an ordinary girl who was born with a mysterious birthmark on her left arm. But when that mark starts to get darker, strange accidents begin to happen everywhere around her, involving even the people she cares about. What will the powerful magic awakening inside Rinko bring her?

In 1987, Purple Eyes in the Dark was awarded the Shogakukan Manga Award for the shoujo manga category.

Oh my god what is this shit. Trigger warning for rape. Not what you think. But probably worse than you think. Haha. No bestiality at least! HIGH BARS EVERYONE, LET’S CLIMB THEM.

It’s still more interesting and better written than the vast majority of urban fantasy, though. Haha suckers.

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BLOOD OF DRAGONS – Robin Hobb, more slut-shaming


Dragon blood and scales, dragon liver and eyes and teeth.

All required ingredients for medicines with near-miraculous healing powers. The legendary blue dragon Tintaglia is dying of wounds inflicted by hunters sent by the Duke of Chalced, who meanwhile preserves his dwindling life by consuming the blood of the dragon’s poet Selden Vestrit.

If Tintaglia perishes, her ancestral memories will die with her. And the dragons in the ancient city of Kelsingra will lose the secret knowledge they need to survive. Their keepers immerse themselves in the dangerously addictive memory-stone records of the city in the hope of recovering the Elderling magic that once allowed humans and dragons to co-exist. In doing so they risk losing their own identities, even their lives.

And danger threatens from beyond the city, too. For war is coming: war between dragonkind and those who would destroy them.

Robin Hobb is kind of like Robert Jordan in a way. Not the braid-tugging and skirt-smoothing shit, but the whole–you know how there are a lot of words in her books? Lots and lots and lots of fucking words, things happen in them (sort of) but the plot is advancing fuck-all? The pace so glacial sometimes it reads like it’s going backward? Yeah, that.

Fuck, I’ve no idea why I read this. Why did I read four books of this. Why? It’s got “dragons” in the title, for fuck’s sake. Trigger warning for rape by the way, since Robin Hobb from Liveship onwards hopped on the grimdark bandwagon.

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alpha males – paranormal biotruths and rape culture


Evo-psych is a favorite pet topic of R Scott Bakker and assorted shitlords. It’s the domain of the uneducated who nevertheless believe they are brilliant; evo-psych is popular pseudo-science at its worst, used to justify roughly every form of bigotry you can imagine (and a few you can’t), with special attention paid to misogyny.

Imagine my surprise to discover that it’s also an obsession in the lofty genre of paranormal romance/urban fantasy.

“Don’t you understand? You, your subconscious or whatever wanted a life mate, and you wanted me bad. Something deep inside you wants to be loved, manu. All you have to do is let me.” –Shirin Dubbin, Dream’s Dark Kiss

Apart from being rapist logic, this line of thinking–”your subconscious wanted a life mate”–lines up neatly with the rhetoric and reasoning of real-world misogynistic creeps. Continue reading

FROM DEAD TO WORSE pt 1 – Charlaine Harris still disgusting racist


Let’s start off with this: while it’s possible to like things that are problematic, I genuinely don’t understand what there is to like about these books. Is it the shitty writing? Is it the misogyny? Is it the jingoism? Is it the rampant, raging, explicit and relentless racism?

I’m not talking about the show, which I understand is slightly less racist than the books. This isn’t some “reading too much into it” thing; this isn’t even social justice crusading stuff. The racism in these books is absolutely obvious, undeniable, and constant. There is nothing redeeming in these books. There’s nothing good about them. All they do is confirm that barely-literate fiction that affirms and endorses popular bigotries will enjoy great popularity and commercial success. Well done, America.

Trigger warning: rape and rape apologia.

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R. Scott Bakker – Neuropath of Misogyny



I come bearing a gift.

By which I mean bearing a curse. What’s this curse? Over 3,000 words of rapefare from that most favored of punching bags, R. Scott Bakker. Specifically it’s from his non-fantasy thing–I’m not sure what genre it falls into other than “mumbo-jumbo”–Neuropath. Now, by and by I’ve come to view Bakker as rather harmless if socially incompetent; his boon companion Peter Watts is a far more loathsome piece of shit (although anecdotes have it that Watts is, in real life, quite socially incompetent as well and that translates to a certain kind of schoolboy pettiness. Now imagine if he, Watts and Pat have a drink together at a con–but never mind, that’s a vile image: so much smug idiocy concentrated in one place!).

Then someone told me about the rapefare in Neuropath.

Here follows a close reading and dissection of about 3,000 words (more than 10 pages in paper!) of rapefare. I was warned it would be disgusting, but after a while I found it merely hilarious. There’s a weird, off-putting tone to this as of a schoolboy dipping a stick into his own fresh excrement, then running at people to wave said stick in their faces. This isn’t edgy, haunting, horrifying. It’s very simply disgusting in the same childish, mindless way and suggests that Bakker perhaps needs to be house-broken. If Chris Priest believes Charles Stross to be an incontinent puppy, then one can only imagine Bakker as a piglet suffering from explosive diarrhea. It rolls around in–well, you know. Obeying its natural instincts, as it were.

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