themadpoker

Today I watched Kamen Rider Kabuto and Mei-Chan no Shitsuji! One is a tokusatsu where our heroes fight evil shape shifting aliens called Worms. The other is delicious shoujo crack about a school of rich girls and their butlers. They both have the extremely important unifying factor of Mizushima Hiro's face. =DDDDDDD I think I am going to watch more of Mei-Chan because I wasn't really feeling the first episode of Kabuto. Possibly because I was mentally comparing it to the only other tokusatsu I've watched, Keitai Sousaken 7, which was awesome and had TALKING CELL PHONES

Also you may not be aware but

femgenficathon started posting a week back and there is much excellent fic to be had. Here are a few of my favourites.

Harbingers of Blood Queens have power. They need not hide who and what they are for safety's sake. But more than that--queens have names. And Lady Macbeth would do much to be known and remembered under her own name. So GOOD you guys. I always liked Lady Macbeth for being so much more hardcore than her husband but this fic manages to humanize her really well, while blending in some actual Scottish history at the same time. So far I think this is my favourite fic to come out of the comm.

Noli mi tangere There was a gentle woman in the Courte, called Anne Bulleyne, daughter to sir Thomas Bulleyne, Viscount Rocheforde, whom the kyng muche fauoured in all honestie, and surely none otherwise, as all the worlde well knewe after. I have read so many actual published books on Anne Boleyn and the Tudors and I think this could stand up well with any of them.

viorica8957 said in the comments that it struck the perfect balance between Anne-the-ambitious and Anne-the-person which WORD. I especially liked how she handled her relationship with her sister (neither of them being demonized! I can think of one or two published authors who could take a hint here, -cough-PhilippaGregory-cough-).

This one isn't from

femgenficathon but it's gen and it's about Martha Jones so I'm reccing it anyways.

Twenty Truths About Martha Jones

12.

She had protested a bit about it but Martha had really loved 1969.

It was a bit like in the movies, like in the old tv shows. The colours, the music, the pretty girls in white leather boots. Except it was real, and not a movie.

She loved the most the way everything seemed to quiet down, after the rush of adventures with the Doctor, intergalactic danger and always running, heart in your mouth.

Now she could just be. And be with the Doctor.

They fell into the habit of buying silly little presents for each other, every day. Martha gave him a wristband made of seashells and the Doctor gave her an awful watercolor painting of a cat, which Martha dutifully hung in the hallway and never failed to make them double in laughter. The Doctor gave her second-hand shoes laced with emerald-like stones, but he didn’t get her size right. Martha gave her a Sherlock Holmes-like pipe that the Doctor pretended to smoke when he wanted to make her giggle.

He seemed content enough to play house for a while, with her. He used to wrote messages for her in the steam over the bathroom mirror, after a long, hot shower. Sometimes they didn’t make sense, sometimes it was even just numbers, sometimes he would make a simple doodle of himself. He would always draw a smiley face and Martha wished she could always see him happy like that.

1969 was a bittersweet holiday, if anything.

They sat together in the evenings, crosslegged on the big red couch and eating their meals from folding trays.

And sometimes he would look at her profile as she watched tv and Martha would feel his gaze on her skin and it occurred to her, for a moment, that maybe the real problem, the destruction of it all, was the her love was not quite as unrequited as she had been led to believe and that was what would set them apart, in the end.

I believe this very very much.