Ms. Smartarse > Recent Status Updates

I wonder what it says about me that I don't (normally) notice the romance unless the UST hits me on the head with a 10 ft pole?

Re-reading for a book club: and I have to say the Romanian translation is very good. Don't think I've said this for quite a while...

Even so, I was hoping it would have some footnotes explaining the various fantasy creatures. Alas... I'll just have to provide a glossary.
Because I have plans, y'all!

"I believe you're afraid of elevators", Mathias said to me.
"Yes, that's right." I remembered now. I was supposed to be suffering of claustrophobia. "But we shouldn't let ourselves be ruled by our fears..." Especially not, when the room is on the damned fifth floor.

“Go on then, sue me, you grumpy old fussbucket,” I said, thinking about what other punchy things Sister Sabine always came out with, and whether I should throw in a forceful “Kiss my pocket” for good measure. After all, this was still my coma‑dream, and I could afford to misbehave a little.

Million to one chances crop up nine times out of ten.

Granny had nothing against fortune-telling provided it was done badly by people with no talent for it. It was a different matter if people who ought to know better did it, though. She considered that the future was a frail enough thing at best, and if people looked at it hard they changed it.

But now I know paradise isn't a place.

We're bound to wake up sometime.

You're sorry to be alive?
You're lonely?
What are you? A toddler?

'I really don't think that is necessary,' [Granny] said sternly. 'Not between us.'
'You do it, Granny', said Esk, 'in the village. I've seen you. And teacups. And cards.'
Granny shifted uneasily. 'Yes, well. It's all according. You just hold their hand and people do their own fortune-telling. But there's no need to go around believing everything.'

'Granny.'
'What?'
'Do you know how wizards like to be buried?'
'Yes!'
'Well, how?'
Granny Weatherwax paused at the bottom of the stairs.
'Reluctantly.'

“Even though you just had a colonoscopy, no one would call you loose in the hips.”
Marlene raised an eyebrow.
I waved it off. “Oh, that was just one of Bengt’s theories. He says you can tell when women aren’t having enough sex… Well, and now I’m wondering whether he might be right. Do I look to you somehow… well…”

Is the herd mentality really this strong?

The enemy in a nutshell...

Sometimes when humans argue with me, they’re right. (Statistically, they would have to be right sometimes, no matter how unlikely that seems.)

Naja said on our team feed, You look nervous.
It doesn’t look nervous, Farai countered sharply, for a human who was looking more nervous than I was.
Are you nervous? Sofi asked.
If we were on Preservation I’d ask for a solicitor. I lied and said, I’m not nervous.
(Emotion check: Nervous.)

I was hoping the hostiles didn’t know anything about Leonide’s plans, or that she had anyone with her in the house. It would be nice if they found her body and marked their mission as completed and submitted an invoice. No, threat assessment did not think the chances of that were very good.

"[The feather] was placed at a particular tale: Beauty and the Beast. Very fucking funny, Witch Owl. More like Reia and the monster. Except she knew her beast wouldn't turn into a handsome man no matter what she did.

Assumptions, beliefs and theories...

Back in high school we used to joke about classrooms smelling like burnt brain. Arisu here is doing an admirable job of demonstrating said burning process.

Things I google in the name of research: women's reproductive organs, long tongue muscle, wolf vs fox skull...

Frankly, the awkward writing style is bothering me way more than impending monster sex:
He was inhuman; that could never be changed. He didn't look human, and although he had obvious humanity inside him, he wasn't truly one within either. He wasn't a human in a monster's body, his mind was too... beastly for that by his growls and grunts, but the bits of humanity she could see were unravelling her.

“For heaven’s sake! Who created the social estates? Our Heavenly Father, of course, didn’t He? If He had wanted the beggar to marry the countess, there would be no beggar and no countess — no below, no above. Naturally the beggar should love as well. But please, according to his station!”

"Prepare a list of tasks that must be performed, and we shall delegate them to the ministers, the Heads, and some of the more competent castle guards. Perhaps if we give everyone a single task, they will not make a complete mess of it.”
Maddox looked at Lorn disapprovingly. “That sounds dangerously close to optimism.”
“I prefer to think of it as delusion.”

"Why did you not tell her about the wonders of Between? The mountains--"
"Filled with wraith wolfs."
"-- the lakes --"
"Filled with flesh-eating fish."
"-- the fields of flowers --"
"Mostly poisonous."
"-- and the wondrous creatures?"
Right on cue, thunder boomed right beside the tower. It was answered by the roar of a blue and orange winged beast as it flew past the window in all of its dreadful glory.

"At first, you were angry about your Destiny... then whiny about your Destiny... then scheming about your Destiny... and now elf-ish about your Destiny."
"I prefer the term resigned - it contains fewer elves."

"The citizens of Between are also quite pleased that you won; there have been raucous celebrations at the Sleazy Weasel all afternoon. The house band has already commemorated your exploits in a new song.”
Lorn looked up from his paperwork. “Is it terrible?”
“It contains a sixteen minute, improvised yodelling solo.”
“I shall take that as a resounding yes.”

“Take that prince in Snow White: he was riding around, kissing dead girls in forests. That’s not romantic—that’s necrophilia. Plus, she was 14, remember? He was a pedophilic necrophiliac. Come to think of it, the prince in Sleeping Beauty wasn’t that much better. I mean, who kisses a woman in a coma? That’s assault! Not cool, Prince Charming. Not cool ...”
“Wow, thank you for ruining those stories for me.”

"Passages that linked our realm to Otherworld were scattered across every country and continent.”
“Like subway stations,” Mrs. Landshome piped up. She winked at Lyla. “I thought you New Yorkers would appreciate the reference.”
Lyla grinned at the old woman. “Thanks for keeping this at my level.”