#and therefore being condensed meat

[firestar5318]

What makes something meat or not meat?

[appledotcodotuk]

Pub Quiz Crusaders

The pub is loud. There is a logical reason for this wall of noise: it is a Saturday night. A time for people to peel themselves away from work and muster their best impression that it, in fact never existed. Such concepts are almost always considered in the abstract, really. On the TARDIS, every night and no night is a Saturday. And as for the work, well what was that saying about loving what you do? Still, not everyone was of the same opinion, and because she had finally worn him down (with precisely 27 seconds of pouting) he had let her choose a place to take a break.

Here he was, tucking himself into a corner of a beer-stained countertop, and trying to look like he was considering the drinks menu. Far more out of place amongst chatter and small talk than on the surface of a new planet. In the background, the noise begins to hit somewhat of a fever pitch: the walls are practically creaking under the collective weight of jabbering arms: condensed sweat dips clammy fingertips into concave divots where elbows bend and flesh meets flesh.

It is really quite incredible, The Doctor finds himself thinking - the way the human body takes an absolute mass of contradictions and turns them into something absolutely spectacular. In his humble and unasked for opinion, to see something so at odds with itself in motion was downright mythical. It shouldn’t work! And yet, every step a human takes is with the sort of self-righteous determination in the face of impossibility that only a human can make. Frankly, he was surprised people could even focus. Why didn’t they just say bugger this for a lark let’s just sit here and look at each other for a moment, more often – if it was ever said at all? Typical really. You give people a body that is just beautiful, really, genuinely, just quite marvellous – so enduring, so adaptable, so… soft – and they don’t even take the time to appreciate it.

Perhaps it was the lack of novelty. His last regenerating had been comforting in teh way thrusting your hand into a fireplace, and not caring if the flesh started to show flashes of the white that lay beneath was: at least you were still warm. New body, new senses, same old thoughts. He liked the feeling of being shaped. Putter around piloting the same bundle of meat, bones and nerves long enough, and the marvel of cornea-to-pupil-to-iris adjusting, constructing, fitting, to-lens-to-retina, that pulsing field of bright light and electricity which dance along the nerves and flood you with colour and shapes from the inside out is given the limp, and utterly inadequate misnomer of ‘seeing’.

From across the bar, Rose is laughing at somebody else’s joke. If he had the sense to, he might have felt a little bit of resentment towards the pretty young man leaning towards her, pointing across the bar towards some shoulder-brushed poster in the far flung reaches of his periphery. Rose obliterates the peripheral, anyway. It is not that he only has eyes for her – a ridiculous phrase, how on earth could he fulfil it? He had tried, but the distressing fact about the eye was that there was no way to control what you see – it was just that looking at anything else felt like just as lamentable a waste of his faculties as neglecting the marvels of his own human-but-not-quite-human body. Cripes. He didn’t remember being quite such a fawning narcissist before. But really, he muses, with a darting glance at his horizon-line lips, can he help it? He is Rose’s. He had avoided his reflection quite studiously in those feverish first hours, when he had still had movement in his limbs and consciousness. Attempted invasion aside, he didn’t want his first meeting with this new face to be the mirror’s cold isolation. All he needed, all he would ever need, was to be folded small and whole into the curve of those nut-shell eyes. What do you think? You think, therefore I am.

He had seen Rose for the first time with eyes wearied by war. He wanted to see her again, see her more, see her always. He allows his eyes to flex and concentrate and pull somewhere deep within the echoing chambers of his hearts her face, her smile, her arms and un-held hands. Her fingers fall in a neat little wave as she sees off that grinning idiot (he catches himself, he is not supposed to care) and bounds over towards him.

‘There’s a pub quiz happening tonight.’ She says, and he can see himself reflected in her eyes. Her voice lilts, leaving ample space for a not-question to dangle. The Doctor smiles, and his eye-pooled doppelganger grins back, lazy and slightly crooked because he is hapless and a fool and can’t help himself – can’t help himself? If the Academy could see him now… - but he doesn’t say anything yet. To appear overeager is dangerous. Far better that she give herself over to that intoxicating vulnerability: to want and to show it. ‘Well, I was just wondering if we could stay, ‘s been ages since my last quiz.’

‘Well, Rose Tyler,’ he says, putting that careful enunciation onto her name; savouring the way the syllables roll around this new tongue, ‘Am I in the presence of an expert?’ He asks, wiggling his newly expressive eyebrows. His reward is tenfold: a warm giggle, a light tap on his shoulder. ‘Well… in that case I’d be an absolute Graske in a basket to say no, wouldn’t I?’ Now his whole body is swaying; shifting on his squeaky, appallingly loud bar stool and telegraphing everything he tries his level best not to indulge in: the self-satisfied delight of making Rose Tyler laugh. The moment is sweetened by the undeniable fact that her laugh is at least 5 decibels, and 50,000 emptrons (a new and very valuable measure of delight he had made up about two seconds ago) higher than anything that ridiculous young man had been capable of. But, because he is both unfathomably better and smarter than Rose’s newly acquired strutting fool, he tries his best not to show it.

‘Oh, just you wait. I’ll go sign us up!’ She turns to leave, but not before reaching over and squeezing his hand.

The ‘Buh’ he mutters is thankfully, mercifully dashed against her retreating back. Wouldn’t do to be lost for words moments before he’d need to put those words to use. Rose Tyler had a special ability to render him speechless; to snatch the words, which this body clung to so stubbornly, from his mouth and scatter them in the void itself. He had never been this chatty in his last form. When he was alone in the console room, and caught a gaze of himself in the Time Rotor, hovering over the Heart, he sometimes wondered if this body was an apology. Repair. The opportunity to speak all the words unsaid, and yet simultaneously say absolutely nothing at all. He really was still the same man.

He stares down at the treacherous appendage, flexing and clenching and always the main recipient of Rose’s affections, with a mixture of inexplicable jealousy and delight. He had scared her. Even when everything was alright, because Rose was travelling with him again, it had been snowing ashes, and his hand had given her the creeps. Horrible things, the creeps. A shiver up your spine packaged into a phrase that felt whimsical: the name for a band dealing exclusively in Halloween covers perhaps. He had always loved the concept of novelty covers. Take the same old song, repurpose it a few times, twist a few lyrics here and there – it was an admirably bald-faced mixing and mashing. She had looked so frightened huddled behind the branching coral of his beautiful ship. He had been so ready to pounce on the danger, only to realise her eyes were on him. Can you change back. Change back. Give him back to me. He had really tried for a moment. Begged his cells to unspool their DNA, to turn back the reel and project the face she trusted back onto the shifting flesh that had formed his new, soft head. But even as he considered it, he knew. There was no going back. Not for either of them.

‘Alright, so, there’s a few different categories: History, Science, General Knowledge, Literature and … God! What was the last one?’ She’s back. The Doctor swings around to face her in a way that he sincerely hopes is at least a little more suave and cool (since when had he needed to be cool?) than it feels. ‘Oh, I HATE when this happens.’ Her foot taps a quick frustrated tempo, and unconsciously a finger rests itself against her bottom lip. The Doctor tries very hard to defy the independent and localized gravitational field of Rose, a law that Newton would certainly find he had severely neglected to consider, but part of him knows the resistance is cursory. So he steals a glance at her lips. They’re working their way around a word, trying to put air to those flashing bolts of electric thought. ‘It’s right on the tip of my tongue! M… M…’

‘M….oney? M….artians? M…ovie-‘

‘Movies! Yes! You’re brilliant, you are.’

She’s joking, mostly, but the simper that it produces is fully and abashedly authentic.

‘Course I am. So! Rose Tyler: Trivia Master Extraordinaire, what is the strategy for tonight’s battle of wits?’

‘Hmm, well, my second-in-command, we have a simple goal. Win.’

‘Hm! Short and to the point, I like your style.’ He pauses, trying to delay the words from coming out of his mouth but they’re already being flung into the air by his tongue tapping cruel rhythms into his teeth and: ‘I’m so glad to have met you’ come barreling out, far too light for the history that drags the sentence towards the floor. Mangled, like a record player that scratches as it plays.

She stiffens a little. Imperceptible to most humans, hardly worth noticing for any species with superior sight. But he notices, and he also knows that there is no hiding their shared awareness of that moment, of the words that call to a past neither of them are quite willing to address with sincerity. But, there is the perfect cover, because in the ruddy glow of fire burning red in beer and the cheeks of its drinkers, over a pub quiz, it is easy to shoo sincerity away.

He takes her hand. Hesitates. She interlaces their fingers and smiles. It is returned. Of course it is. He grasps for more words, always more words. Words to fill the holes that words tear. ‘Come along, Trivia Master Extraordinaire, the scene of our grand victory awaits!’

Their competition: a young couple who, when they weren’t canoodling (Rose had practically guffawed at that word when he’d said it, but no other phrase came close!) were taking sips of rapidly decreasing beer and a pair of mothers who had surrendered their sheet to the creative flourishes of their youngest had stood absolutely no chance. Rose Tyler and The Doctor, team name: TARDIS (Truly Amazing paiR of Dilemma Interpreters and Solvers) an acronym so strained that the owner, when handing over their prize had paid homage with a grumbled gesture of ‘you lot’, had entered the melee and emerged with nothing less than absolute victory. They had been harsh, and at times, merciless. A fumbled phrasing, a half-remembered title was given absolutely no leniency. All’s fair in love and war. With an exactness, precision, and an intimate apprehension of historical events that went against the received knowledge of ‘History’ (it would be at least half a century before The Doctor would forgive the two lovebirds for their skepticism at his assertion that Dickens had encountered real ghosts alongside the four featured in A Christmas Carol - thus tallying the score to at least the mid-50s – but a jab in the ribs from Rose had silenced him) it would’ve been daylight robbery to give them anything less than first prize.

Cradling their spoils: a single bottle of champagne that Rose had commented was often half-off in the pub’s local, they stumbled their way home. Home. Of course, the TARDIS was home for him. But it surprised him how quickly home had expanded to include her in it. Her cheeks were warm, and slightly pink from the cold and the drink. He has no excuse for the light pink that flushes his face with a warmth, a semblance of humanity. Alcohol has no effect: he doesn’t feel the cold. But, hand in hand with his best mate, he finds himself wondering if drink could ever produce this rush, this ecstasy. The Doctor and Rose in the TARDIS, solving planetary crises or cruising by the estate for pub quizzes. It was right, it was safe. It was as natural as the way their arms curled around each other, interlaced like an embrace.

[minuy600]

Review 78-06: Brain Games (Atari 2600)

People call me smart, yet I can't even properly get the hang of some games on this title. Big oof.

This one also introduces the keypad controller- though this ended up being rather underutilised on 2600 in my opinion. It really doesn't expand the range of things you can do as much as you think 12 buttons does.

Graphics (2/5)

This game ain't looking so hot. You have these big meaty squares on screen that are meant to represent the keypad, and boy is it ever unpleasant. It makes it all cramped in a way, for example when you play Find-Me and the sprites are condensed into those slabs. They could have put in more detail than that.

It's nice to have a better font for the words and numbers as compared to say, Blackjack, i'll give it a small point for that.

Sound (2.5/5)

I guess I like the weird glitchy noises the game makes whenever it shows you the panels you need to put in the correct order in Picture-Me. For the rest, it's all generic Atari boops. Not great, really, although they do change pitch depending on the number on the keypad, a tiny gimmick to make Touch-Me a little more enjoyable.

Gameplay (2.5/5)

All of these games are based around the idea of you using the keypad to select a slab on the screen, or to specifically type a numerical answer in Add-Me. That one doubles as my favorite, as I think having to solve simple math problems at a very quick rate (you can set it to 5 seconds) is an ACTUAL good way to train your brain.

The other games aren't my thing. Touch-Me, which got a dedicated handheld release later too, is a bout of Simon. The Logbook requires you to get a very high score in that one, which I considered to not be possible with my klutzy head. Then there's Count-Me, the same but instead of the slabs, you get the numbers of the keys shown instead. Same difference.

Picture-Me is easily my worst game, the one where you have to remember pictures and put them in the correct order. For some reason I SUCK at it even if it's probably one of the more well thought out modes, that also makes you a lil more sharp memory-wise? I dunno.

Find-Me could've been cool, but it's by far the easiest take on 'spot the difference' ever. The difference is so obvious to point out, even in the 5 second mode. Made it the quickest way to find out that the high score system is confusing and I therefore did not pay any attention to it. Lastly, Play-Me is a noise maker. That's all. It's nothing compared to doodling on Surround, that is for sure.

Overall, only Add-Me is genuinely cool to me, the rest are passable.

Longevity (2/5)

Ehhhh, decent variety, ho-hum execution. All games are done within a very short time span, most only give you 5 problems to deal with before it is over- so that makes some of them last literal seconds. That is not even close to enough for proper high score chasing.

This is a game you COULD pop in daily for a bit of head meat exercise, and I suppose the Logbook gives you a reason to keep trying to improve yourself in Touch-Me. I doubt that that happened much in the late 70s.

Overall

Not my favorite game of the bunch. I can see it's appeal but it's not got much drive in it for you to 'keep becoming smarter' (in heavy quotation marks). I think it works fine enough for younger children, and at least it does that better than Basic fuckin' Math.

Introducing, the long overdue expanded rating out of 10. With the amount of games that just end up being a 5 or a 6 now, I felt the extra nuance would be of use. Thought about going for a score out of 20 or even the Famitsu deal of going out of 40, but I prefer how this looks.

I'll now go back and change all the prior scores to be more accurate to the tally. Be sure to have a look at the 1977 overview post!

[tastesoftamriel]

What, in your opinion, is the unhealthiest meal of each race? The kinds that give dieticians nightmares.

The unhealthiest meals in Tamriel, eh? I'm secretly a connoisseur of all things salty, greasy, and downright delicious, so loosen that belt and make room for these treats...

Altmer

Greasy food is almost unheard of in Altmer society. Almost. However, fried seaweed in rice batter is a crispy treat beloved by many Altmer, but is eaten in moderation as a snack due to its greasy nature. For a naughty Shimmerene-style treat, a seaweed wrap with gryphon egg mayonnaise, crispy bacon, and mashed avocado is about as unhealthy as Altmeri cuisine can get!

Argonians

While the Argonians eat a healthy diet that's low in fat and sugars, durian pudding is definitely a dessert that goes right to the gut. Fresh, sweet durian is mixed with thick coconut cream, steamed tapioca, and sago pearls. The end result is a staggeringly creamy, rich dessert that you'll struggle to believe is vegan (and still somehow bad for the health).

Bosmer

The Bosmer are gluttons for anything deep fried, or "oil boiled" as they like to call it. The dish that made me pack on a small guar in weight was an entirely oil boiled tower of eggs, meat patties, and cheese, sandwiched between two thick slices of bacon "bread". The entire thing is impaled on a stick, rolled in a salty thunderbug egg batter, and oil boiled until dark brown and oozing lard. Delicious, and absolute murder on the digestion.

Bretons

Did someone say duck fat? The Bretons have an unhealthy obsession with frying everything in duck or goose fat, which gives food a delightfully greasy flavour. Most popular are duck fat potato wedges, which are served with an enormous dollop of extra thick sour cream, bacon, fried duck, melted cheese, and a finishing drizzle of seasoned duck fat for good measure.

Dunmer

Despite multiple warnings about not consuming too many kwama eggs, which are naturally quite fattening, it's impossible to stop the Dunmer from indulging in them. A favourite traditional dish is kwama egg omelette with scuttle and fried scrib, which sounds acceptable but in fact packs your daily dose of salt and fat. However, that won't stop many Dark Elves from enjoying these omelettes at all times of day, especially when washed down with some shein.

Imperials

Seared pork belly that's been wrapped in layers of provolone, sausage, and fatty cured ham is a firm favourite in Imperial City taverns, especially when it's been rolled in breadcrumbs and grilled until crispy. A meat lover's dream, and a healer's despair.

Khajiit

If it wasn't enough that everything is covered in moon sugar, the Khajiit are in love with slurping sweetened condensed milk, straight up or mixed with sweets. Deep fried condensed milk-soaked dumplings that swim in a moon sugar syrup are a popular dessert in Elsweyr, and are admittedly delicious until the moon sugar coma hits.

Nords

There's nothing quite like using sausages and bacon instead of bread when having a good old fondue with Eidar cheese. Eidar is known for being oilier and easier to melt than goat's cheese, and is therefore perfect for fondue if you can handle the smell. While other races tend to eat their fondue with bread, we Nords enjoy smoked sausages, sausage-battered seagull eggs, and thick rinds of bacon to dip into the delicious cheese. Yes, you may feel a little ill if you have too much.

Orcs

Echatere cheese and milk are high in fat, and make the bulk of the filling for cheese pies. Each of these flaky pastries are filled with an oozing cheese sauce, with grilled leek and fried potato, before being finished off with a spicy cheese sauce and deep-fried crispy onions. It's not great for the waistline, but it's any cheese-lover's dream!

Redguards

While Redguard food is seldom unhealthy, you'd probably purse your lips if you saw the donuts stuffed with jelly delights, whipped cream, and ghee fudge that are all the rage in Sentinel. Large, cinnamon donuts are stuffed with confectionary before being fried, and are dusted in honey and powdered sugar to serve. If you're avoiding sugar, this is definitely a dessert you should be running from!

[the-dimitrescu-seamstress]

I Won’t Be Long - A rather long one shot

(I have been working on this, what I call “Magda’s Worst Day”, for a while, and I only recently was inspired to finish it. Hence why I’ve been rather quiet in terms of posts. I can only torture my muse so much.

Basically, this story came about because of the “What have you done to my daughter?!” line. Alcina was in her chambers while saying that, therefore unable to see or know that Ethan was outside. So how did she know what happened to Bela, and who told her? 

My answer? Magda.

I did my best to follow the game’s timeline, but there might have been some condensing or stretching in order to make things fit. I’ve also included some brief cameos from other OCs Magda has interacted with. 

Please note, this is not an “Ethan Hate” story. Magda is simply reacting as one would in their given situation. Is this a sad story? Yes, in parts. Will you hate me for writing this? Maybe. Will you still enjoy reading it? I hope so.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You must hide. The man is a danger, and I wish for you to be safe. Do your best to keep out of all this. If he approaches you, play the helpless victim. Do not help him, but please do not hinder him either.”

“But I want you to stay safe.”

“You know that I always do, dearest. He is nothing but a man.”

“You literally just said he was a danger.” The press of Bela’s lips against Magda’s was enough the hush the smaller woman and soften her demeanor. “Kissing me in order to maintain the last word is technically cheating, you know.”

“True, but I did learn it from you,” the witch smiled. “I won’t be long.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That conversation happened a little over an hour ago. Since then, Magda had quietly paced the floor of her workroom, occasionally stopping to listen for any sound outside her door. She prayed she’d hear the familiar drone of flies, but nothing came. Everything was unnervingly quiet. Magda did her best to reassure herself. She kept telling herself that the man was outnumbered three to one, that the girls would work together and remove him as a threat, that they couldn’t be killed.

The sudden barrage of nearby gunfire and shattering glass ripped away any comfort she had tried to retain. It wasn’t terribly close, but then again it wasn’t terribly far either. Worse yet, there was no celebratory laughter that accompanied the silence that soon followed. Worry gnawed at Magda’s insides, and she did the one thing that Bela had asked her not to do. She unlocked the door to her workshop, and left her hiding place.

Magda went through the halls in sock feet, wanting to make as little sound as possible. The last thing she needed was to run into the man by accident. Thankfully, the courtyard was deserted. Freezing, especially without shoes or a coat, but it was empty. Even better, the door leading to the dining room was still locked. That meant the intruder had not found a key or harassed one of the few servants who had a skeleton key to the various entryways. Magda was one of those servants. Being a seamstress, and a trusted one at that, gave her a few perks.

As much as she wanted to rush in, Magda knew better. She turned the key slowly, as the locks were heavy and made a distinct and rather loud click when undone. The door she also took time opening, just in case there was an armed madman standing on the other side. Finding none, she closed and relocked the door behind her. Best to keep him confined.

Cassandra’s laughter coming from the Main Hall signaled that she was keeping the intruder well occupied and, rather than risk an interruption, Magda turned to the much plainer door which lead to the kitchen.

Normally the kitchen was a warm place, full of the sounds and smells of cooking food for the human staff, but the rush of cold air that blew in as she entered confirmed a fear she had. Hurrying past the preparation table and ducking under the cuts of drying meat, Magda stopped short in the doorway to the connected storage room. What she saw squeezed her heart like a vice, making it difficult to breath.

Shattered glass and the remains of broken boards framed a large, collapsed pile of frozen flies. The room wavered and suddenly felt hot, despite the open windows. Maybe… maybe this wasn’t Bela, she tried to reason. It wasn’t Cassandra, as she had heard her laughter not moments ago. A small, hateful voice in her head whispered that this was Daniela, that Bela was still alive inside the castle, perhaps happily carving up the man with her sister, and what laid before her was Daniela. Magda hated to even think that, but right now she was mental begging the powers that be for that to be the truth.

Step by hesitant step, she approached the pile, acting as a windbreak when she knelt between it and the broken window. Tears began to cloud her vision as she saw pale yellow flies mixed in amongst the brown and black insects. Again, her heart wrenched inside her chest. Her skin burned and the walls of the room closed in as her anger grew and burst forth in a ragged scream of rage, sorrow, and anguish.

Why?! Why did he do this?! How did he even know?! Did he just get lucky with a stray bullet breaking a pane of glass? Why did he kill her? Why did he go after her? The cold would have been enough to stop her! She would have stopped the chase, and he could have gotten away, but he still decided to kill her! He killed her while she was hurting! He killed her while she was cold, alone, and separated from everyone. He killed Magda’s stea mică… her little star…

He didn’t give a shit about anything or anyone.

Magda’s guttural scream was echoed by a rasping, undead one crawling up from the once boarded up passageway that led to the dungeon. In her emotional state, she hadn’t put two and two together. The boards were smashed going into the storage room rather than out into the passageway. The man had come up from below, meaning he had created a potential access point for the thralls to get upstairs.

“Căcat!” she cursed, scrambling as quickly and as quietly for a container in the other room. It would take the thralls a bit of time to coordinate and stumble their way up the stairs, but they would eventually make it and Magda was not about to let those disgusting things trample all over what was left of Bela.

She would also need to tell the Countess.

Grabbing one of the large basins used to hold drained blood, as well as any discarded towels or cloth she could find, Magda carefully moved every single fly she found into the container, scouring the floor for any the wind may have blown about, but always keeping a careful eye on the dungeon passage. The last thing she needed was to be attacked by those damn thralls as she finished.

The basin was… not as heavy as she thought it would be. That knowledge made her stomach sink and made her feel that much worse. She was carrying her love’s body, and it wasn’t heavy. It needed to be. The woman was seven feet tall! It should have been heavier! These stupid, unimportant thoughts made her tears start to once again fall as she returned to the dining room. “Dammit. I’m sorry, Bela,” she mumbled as a few hot tears fell on the flies.

One twitched in response.

Magda stopped at that. She was seeing things. In her grief, her mind was clearly playing tricks on her. Bela was dead. The cold killed flies. She was dead and the tear hitting the fly only made it look like it moved.

That was when the worst feeling in all of creation latched itself onto her.

Hope.

Leaning in close, she breathed a few times on a small clump of flies, letting her warm breath roll over them. And then she waited… Her heart pounding in her chest as she watched for something. Anything.

…A leg spasmed.

It was small, almost imperceptible, but Magda took it as a sign. A possibility. A tiny one at that, but she grabbed onto it and refused to let it go. Hope was evil like that.

Covering the basin to shield the flies from the cold, she ventured back across the courtyard and towards Alcina’s chambers, locking any and all doors behind her because fuck this man and his doings. Make his shit life harder.

The Countess’ chambers were empty, which sent a chill of dread and terror down Magda’s spine. Had she fallen to the man as well or was she simply hunting him along with her daughters? Should she wait for her to appear? Right now, searching the castle was not the ideal thing to do, as she was unarmed, human, and she had no idea if the intruder would have mercy on her if she encountered him. Thankfully, her questions were answered as familiar heavy footfalls were heard coming up the stairs. Now all she had to do was explain to Alcina what she thought was possible. And hopefully not die in the the telling.

“If I can’t, I’ll do my best to bleed on you as I die, sweetness,” she told the basin of flies, trying to make a joke and do her best to smile. The latter crumbled as soon as the chamber door opened.

“Countess?” Magda’s voice was weak and shaky, full of fear, and she immediately regretted opening her mouth due to the look on Alcina’s face. It was one of surprise mixed with displeasure, which made sense as Magda should still be locked in her sewing room, not running around as she was currently doing.

“Are you not aware of our current situation, Magdalena?” Her tone was cool and reserved, as if she were waiting on Magda’s answer in order to decide the best manner of action to take.

“I am very much aware of the situation, Countess. Which was why I came here as quickly as I could.” she replied, uncovering Bela’s remains. The candelabra the taller woman had been holding streaked towards Magda’s head and the seamstress barely had time to duck.

“What have you done to my daughter?!” she roared, lunging forward and grabbing Magda by her neck. For a moment, fear and terror filled the seamstress’ mind, but she somehow managed to find her voice despite the vice-like grip upon her throat.

“It wasn’t me… the man… did this… the flies… not… not dead…” Darkness had started to creep around the edges of her vision before Alcina finally released her. Landing on the ground hurt, but the deep breath of fresh air she took afterwards was incredibly sweet.

“Explain yourself,” Alcina growled, stretching out those two words in a low and menacing fashion, one not at all suitable for a woman of her standing, but perfect for a mother seeking justice for her child.

“I heard the fight,” Magda rasped, throat still sore. “It was in… the kitchen. I found… Bela. I thought she was dead… but some flies reacted to my tears…. and warm breath. There’s a chance. That cold state they go into. She told me about it. Bela might not be dead. Only hibernating. If she can be warmed, maybe she can be saved.” Magda watched Alcina, eyes never turning away or blinking too rapidly. She didn’t want to give the woman any excuse or reason not to believe her.

The quiet between them lasted for what seemed an eternity, only to be interrupted by a low rumbling and draining of liquid coming from the next room over. They both heard it, though Alcina only gave the most subtle of glances in its direction. The pool in the Hall of Ablution had been emptied. The Countess’ iron grip was suddenly around Magda’s arm, pulling her back to her feet.

“You will take my daughter back to your workshop and you will keep her warm,” she hissed. “You will not leave her side, not even for a moment. Should I find you disobeying my instructions and wandering these halls while that impudent wretch is still in my castle, your life is forfeit. Is that understood?” Magda nodded, fear in her eyes. She picked up the basin, replacing the cover before being roughly escorted out of the chamber.

Once safely back in her workshop, Magda set about gathering her thickest fabrics; the wools, flannels, gabardines, and anything else heavy she had. She removed the blankets and comforter from her bed and did what she could to form a nest or bed for the flies. For a moment, she even considered cutting her forearm and dribbling some blood onto them, but if they weren’t moving then they weren’t feeding, and the last thing she wanted to risk was them somehow drowning in her own blood.

Magda did her best to obey the Countess’ instructions, as she was not about to risk Alcina’s wrath, not with her life on the line. However, if she did end up being wrong about Bela, maybe it would be better to join her in death. What was she thinking? Magda likely would die anyways. But, in terms of when, it would just depend on Alcina’s mood. So, the seamstress sat in silence, waiting and praying to hear the soft buzzing of fly wings as they slowly warmed up.

Instead, she heard someone faintly plinking the keys of the piano in the Opera Hall. Rather badly at that. Naturally, the all too familiar footfalls of an enraged Alcina soon followed. He must not have realized she was hunting him, Magda thought. Because what idiot would actually take the time to play the piano if they were actively trying to stay hidden? The brief retort of gunfire seemed to prove her point. Although she could only hear what was going on, Magda still had a brief chuckle as she imagined the man scrambling for his life away from Alcina.

Not that he had many places to run to. It was either to Magda’s workshop or the library, and as the noise of confrontation began to distance itself from her hiding place, she breathed a sigh of relief. The library it was then.

“How has this man managed to survive this long?” she softly asked Bela’s remains. As if in answer, gunshots rang out once more and the seamstress stood, wondering who he was fighting now. The previously reassuring knowledge that bullets couldn’t harm anyone in this house re-entered Magda’s head… but it was quickly dashed to pieces as she glanced back at Bela. Who had he gone after now? She needed to know.

For five long minutes, Magda stood at her sewing room door, with it cracked open enough to listen. But she heard nothing. No footsteps, no gunfire, no sounds of anyone.

If Alcina caught her, it would be death, a voice in her head reasoned.

So she simply would avoiding getting caught, another replied.

The distance to the library wasn’t far, and she could easily hear the Countess’ footsteps well in advance, allowing her to hide as she approached.

“I’ll be back soon, stea mică. I won’t be long,” she softly told the flies. A few seemed to twitch in response. God, she hoped that she was right in the foolish ‘not dead, only hibernating’ theory. Basin and flannel cloth in hand, Magda made her way to the library, hoping she wouldn’t need what she carried.

Her heart sank upon feeling the chilly air inside. Papers were scattered, vases lay shattered, and, near enough to be in the light cast from the glass skylight which acted as a central decorative point for the room, was another large pile of immobile flies. Magda actually needed a moment to sit and collect herself with this discovery. Little flies, whose bodies glittered in the light, matched Daniela’s hair color.

Alcina will weep, Magda thought as she did her best to keep her own tears from falling once more. Gathering up these remains took longer than Bela’s, but not because they were scattered about. No. For as messy and wild as Daniela was in life, she had collapsed in a neat little pile. It was the weight and knowledge that this was the baby of the family which made this such a long and arduous task.

“You’re not alone, Dani. I’m not letting you be alone. I’m taking you to your sister. You’ll be safe in my sewing room,” She told the flies. Could this have been the first sign of madness? After all, Magda was talking to a container full of potentially dead insects. She recalled the character of Renfield from Dracula. The man went mad in an effort to serve and worship his vampire lord. Perhaps she was becoming something along the same lines. Perhaps she was already dead; killed by the intruder, and this was her own personal hell of gathering up mounds of flies throughout the castle for the rest of eternity, all the while avoiding Alcina. If Bela’s nest was not in the workshop when she returned to it, Magda figured this terrible thought would be reality.

Thankfully, upon opening the door to her workshop, the comforter and blanket that Bela was nestled in was still where the seamstress had left it. So maybe she was not dead and this was not hell. Little miracles were all she could hope for right now.

Magda took her time making Daniela’s nest, listening for anything that would signal they were victorious and this man-thing was dead and gone. She shook her head a little as she used that term. Normally, Magda did not join in on calling men that, but this was a special case. This individual didn’t seem human. The fact that he could best two of the daughters worried her, and a dread feeling that, unless mother and daughter combined forces, Cassandra could fall as well filled Magda’s stomach like a lead weight.

The daughters were monsters, yes. By the classic definition, that’s what they were, and Magda did not deny any of it. Blood stained dresses, screams and laughter coming from the dungeon, or even the rare times when Bela’s kisses had a slight hint of copper or something raw tasting to them. They weren’t normal. Alcina was also a monster; perhaps even more of one. The height, the claws, the gray skin that she hid beneath layers of foundation. All four of them shared that same inhuman appetite for blood and flesh. But, they also had human tendencies. They laughed, they cried, they screamed in fright the odd times they were scared or taken by surprise.

Then again, humans could be monsters as well. History showed how terrible they could be. Magda was certainly no angel, and she had the odd feeling that this man wasn’t entirely a good person either. Maybe she was wrong. Magda didn’t know. All she knew was that she was trying to save the small group of friends and family she had left in this world.

Minutes ticked by and still her wing of the castle remained quiet. The longer it stayed quiet, the more she worried. If the man was dead, Alcina would have come to her workshop to see to her daughter. But if the quiet persisted? Magda didn’t want to think on that.

“Should I go out and search?” she asked her charges. Of course, no reply came. Magda thought she saw more movement from Bela’s flies, but she had no idea if they all needed to be restored to a proper temperature, like a hive mind, before they could respond. With the way Magda had layered everything, they would warm up slowly and naturally. No artificial heaters or fires were being used, as she didn’t want to risk damaging them. After watching both mounds for a few minutes, the seamstress nodded, knowing once more what she had to do.

The castle had an unusual quietness, a stillness she had never felt before. There was always at least some sort of background noise; the shuffling of servants, the daughters’ laughter, the general noise of a home being lived in. Where was everyone? Had the man killed them all? Or were Sylvia, Andre, Samuel, Bianca, and the rest hiding in the servant’s quarters, having barricaded themselves in? Vulga likely would have escaped into the walls upon hearing the first gunshot, so she was probably safe.

At least there would be some survivors of Castle Dimitrescu.

Finding Cassandra took a long time. Besides hiding from both the constantly patrolling Alcina and the seemingly trigger happy mad man, Magda had to think like the middle child, who had the tendency to spend time in the oddest of places. While Bela and Daniela could be found in seemingly normal locations in the castle, Cassandra explored. She found hidden areas that were unknown to most of the inhabitants, hard to get to, or simply dilapidated enough and impossible to access unless you could fly. Magda assumed she enjoyed being hard to find.

The seamstress had searched damn near every room, after having briefly hidden for a few heart-pounding minutes in one of the dressing room wardrobes upon hearing Alcina’s approach. Currently, she was sitting in the back hallway, taking a moment to try and mentally collect herself. Magda hated failing, and right now she was absolutely in sync with the idea that she was a failure. Cassandra, as far as she knew, had simply disappeared. Had the man shattered a window and thrown her outside? If that was the case, then the chance of finding the young woman dropped to impossible odds. The castle was surrounded by woods and cliffs with sheer drops. Maybe… if the snow and cold somehow preserved her through the winter, Cassandra would show up in the spring, like crocuses.

At that thought, Magda let slip a sharp little laugh while, at the same time, her eyes began to water. Cassandra would hate being compared to a flower. She would absolutely have hated it. And for as much as Magda wanted to continue to both laugh and cry right now, it would certainly draw unwanted attention from one of two parties currently in the castle. Possibly both.

Wiping her face with her sleeve, she allowed herself a few calming breaths before pushing herself back to her feet and continuing this fruitless search.

The slight draft blowing on Magda’s hand from beneath the door stopped her. Yes, castles were drafty, but not this one. Alcina made certain to insulate everything as best she could so her daughters could survive the winter in relative comfort. But, there was a definite bit of air movement coming from under this door.

Opening it, Magda found the Statue of Pleasure…. with an animal skull in place of the sacrifice’s head. Not even Cassandra or Daniela would be foolish enough to ruin one of their mother’s statues. So, on top of being a murderer, this man enjoyed defacing both art and private property. What the fuck was wrong with him?

The indignity aside, the windows in this room were intact, so where was the draft coming from? The only other option was the fireplace, but if the chimney was that badly cracked, why wasn’t it sealed? Crouching in front of it, the reason quickly became apparent as the entire back of the fireplace has been removed, and the hole led to a set of stairs.

“Cassandra, you little shit.”

Crawling through the passageway, Magda entered what looked to be the remains of a hidden armory, or at least a place to stash and work on things a certain daughter didn’t want her mother to learn about or her sisters to interfere with. It would have been a lovely little room had it not been for the gaping hole in the wall, letting in all the cold air. And there, near enough to the stairway, laid what was left of Alcina’s middle child.

“At least you were smart enough to fight him in a room without windows,” Magda commented as she gathered her up. Cassandra was vicious and violent when she wan’t to be, but she was also calculative and observant. Perhaps that’s why she lasted as long as she did. Had she sacrificed her sisters in order to study this man? If Magda were the girl’s mother, they would definitely be having a talk about that later.

With the last of the Dimitrescu daughters safely bundled up, Magda began to make her way back to the workshop. As it was nearly on the other side of the castle with no direct route, she took great care to move as quietly as possible. She paused repeatedly, and scanned the Main Hall, looking for signs of the the woman in white. For as large as she was, Alcina was a stalking beast. She could be incredibly quiet if she wished to be.

As she crouched in one the small balconies, Magda heard movement coming from below her on the floor of the main hall. However, it didn’t sound… right. It couldn’t have been the intruder, unless he was gravely injured. But If that were the case, Alcina wouldn’t have been far behind, and Magda didn’t hear her at all. Speaking of the Countess, it certainly wasn’t her, as the noise was far too small to be anyone remotely her size.

Chancing a look, Magda peeked over the edge, and a soft gasp of surprise, sounding so devastatingly loud in this silence, escaped her lips as she saw what was beneath her. Luana, the castle’s head servant, the personal watchdog for the Countess, laid collapsed on the marble floor, clothes stained red with blood. Where had they been all this time?! Magda had scoured entire castle… Had they been outside and only just now managed to get in? This just made her life ten times harder. Not only did she have Cassandra to carry back, but now there was the issue of Luana as well.

She could have left them where they were. She could have. After all, Magda was currently disobeying orders and Alcina was already displeased by her previous actions. She should have taken Cassandra back to her workshop and then returned. By then, perhaps Alcina would have discovered Luana herself and… done what? She was hellbent on hunting down the intruder. Would she even have stopped and tended to her servant? Magda couldn’t say. She also had no idea what would have happened if the man found them first. Would he finish the job he clearly started? In all likelihood? Yes.

Tucking Cassandra safely in an out of the way corner by the top of the stairs, Magda made her way down to her fellow servant, glancing into the Hall of the Four as she went.

The doors leading to the Temple of Worship were open.

In all her years there, Magda had rarely seen those exterior doors stand open as they were now. The Countess was strict in her orders about that portion of the castle being forbidden to everyone save herself, and now the seamstress was watching her tall figure ascend the temple stairs. An unknown fear filled Magda with dread at that sight, and she hurried towards Luana.

Rolling the head servant over onto their back, Magda gave them a quick look over. Buckshot, and a few normal bullet holes, peppered Luana’s blood soaked torso. A normal human would have been dead from such injuries and blood loss, but Luana was thankfully not fully human, rather a Lycan-cross. They usually preferred not to speak of their heritage, but Magda hoped they would be happy to have it just this once.

“Luana? Luana, dear, can you hear me?” she asked, opening their eyes to check for any sign of life. She was met with slurred, half-conscious Portuguese. “You know damn well I don’t speak that, but right now any response is a good one, so I’ll take it.” The bleeding had stopped and their breathing seemed normal from what she could tell; no gurgles, bloody froth in the mouth, or sounds of difficulty.

“…Apologies…” they said in Romanian, doing their best to sit up.

“You’re fine. I’m just happy to see someone else, aside from the Countess, alive,” she replied. Their uniform already ruined, Magda removed Luana’s jacket and began tearing off bandage strips. Or at least she started to, as a distant crash and a devastating roar from outside quickly stopped her efforts. Whatever injuries seemed to be afflicting Luana were momentarily forgotten as they did their best to stand, only to collapse almost immediately. As they attempted it a second time, Magda moved to support them. She didn’t even say a word or caution them to take it slow as the two of them made it to the open doorway.

And what they saw? There were no words.

It was huge. A great beast, vast and terrible, with an immense wingspan, lashing tail, and a toothy, gaping maw circled the top of the temple tower; sometimes flying, sometimes crawling along the stonework. It was pale white with streaks of pink flesh, slick and glossy looking as the sun hit it. Muscles bulged as if barely contained by the skin, as tendrils curled and whipped about in an independent fury. It looked both cancerous and incomplete while at the same time horrifically beautiful and awe-inspiring in some inexplicable way. And to top it off, as if in an absurd gilding of the lily, Alcina’s upper torso, looking flayed and monstrous, erupted from between the beast’s shoulder blades. Her voice was distorted, both by rage, vengeance, and sorrow, but also by this transformation. She was lost in this madness, fully given in to it.

Magda’s knees gave way, and she fell to the floor, unintentionally bring Luana down with her. The seamstress was lost. How was this even possible? How had Alcina become this gargantuan beast? Could she change back? A sudden sick feeling rolled over her as all these questions and more filled her head. She was sure Luana was thinking similar things.

All they could do was watch this battle as it unfurled. Stonework and roofing tiles fell freely as the dragon creature did its best to pursue its quarry. Gunfire was heard regularly as Alcina taunted, threatened, and cackled in her torment. The fight moved steadily upwards, with more and more of the building being destroyed until a bloodcurdling shriek was heard and something structural gave way.

Multiple somethings.

Large plumes of dust, broken window, and cracks forming in the side of the building were the indication that the dragon had fallen through all of the interior floors of the temple, landing with a massive crash.

Magda and Luana looked at each other and then back towards the temple. “How about we wait and listen for movement?” the seamstress started to offer, but the head servant was already stumbling towards the building, trying desperately not to once more fall onto their face. They didn’t get very far before collapsing, but Magda was there to lift them back up. “How about a compromise? We get to the temple door and listen before barging in?” At that, Luana nodded a little sheepishly.

If Magda had thought the castle had been quiet, the inside of the temple was a veritable tomb. She just hoped it wasn’t a literal one. At least not for Alcina. Let the man be buried under all that rubble. Unfortunately, her wish was not yet granted, as she saw the limping figure of a man leaving through the lower level door. All she needed was a gun. Why didn’t she or Luana have a pistol? One bullet through the back of his damned head, that’s all that was needed and all this terribleness would be over with.

But instead, Magda just stood there, watching him leave before her gaze turned to Alcina’s body. It was still that dragon creature, but she had just come to accept that this was the Countess. Luana was already making their way down to her, carefully using the broken rubble as a stairway. Magda reluctantly followed suit.

The beast may have remained, but the human torso that was Alcina? That was gone, crumbled to ashes. The body was also still. Seeing that, Magda sat down hard, shocked by it all. Luana at least made it to the corpse, but they soon collapsed as tears began to fall.

Theirs was an ugly crying, one that Magda had never heard from them before. It was a full body shaking, heaving from the gut sort of crying. Luana had been serving House Dimitrescu since they were a teenager, and they saw Alcina as a mother figure, so Magda could only imagine what they were going through.

Letting them grieve for a few minutes, Magda eventually stood and walked over to Luana, placing a hand on their shoulder.

It was then that the beast took a great, shuddering breath.

Instincts quickly took hold and Magda scrambled backwards, not wanting to risk being eaten, while Luana did the opposite and moved closer, overjoyed to see some sign of life coming from the creature. She expected to hear a scream or cry of pain from Luana, imagining the creature lunging forward and devouring the head servant in one or two gulps. But instead, when the seamstress looked back, she saw Luana petting its head, saying soft things to it in Portuguese as it just laid there, barely making any noise.

“You are either very brave, very trusting, or very stupid to be petting that thing,” Magda hissed, keeping her voice down low, as if raising it would trigger the beast to attack them both.

“It knows me… us. It won’t hurt us,” Luana replied calmly.

“How do you know that? How is it even still alive?! Alcina’s torso is gone! The thing should be dead!” In response to Magda’s outburst, the thing growled, slightly turning its head in her direction. “… All right, I’m clearly wrong in my assessment of life and death. But that still doesn’t explain why or how.”

“Separate functioning systems? Maybe it all… pinched shut when the torso disintegrated? Like a limb or a tree branch that’s dying? Save the main body?” Luana offered.

“I would have thought Alcina would have been the main body. Can she regenerate from this?” Magda asked. Luana simply shrugged.

“We take her back to the castle and see what happens over the next few hours or days.”

“Easier said than done,” Magda replied, gesturing to the rock they scaled down and the all too small door was the only other exit.

“If it is a simple creature, then it will respond to simple things like food. She will need to eat anyways. We lure it back with food,” Luana reasoned.

The kitchen was thusly raided and a good bit of the meat that was there removed; both cured and what was still fresh. Amazingly, despite having heard the shrieks of the thralls earlier, the kitchen was now devoid of them. Had they wandered back down into the dungeon after finding no prey? Or were they all dead? Magda could only wonder as she glanced towards that corridor, her eyes wanting to linger on the spot where she found Bela. No, she thought. No, Bela was safe in the sewing room with her sisters. Magda had made a brief detour to deposit Cassandra there, as well as retrieve a pair of shoes for herself, before joining back up with Luana in the kitchen.

Along with the meat, they also brought along two barrels from the tasting room, placed at strategic points along the route back to the castle, in case extra bribery was needed for the beast. By the time they had finished setting everything up, the Alcinadragon… for what else would you call it?… was on its feet, clumsily walking around its temporary enclosure. Naturally, after throwing down the first piece of meat, with it being consumed in a single bite, the beast’s attention snapped to the two of them as it began the effort of climbing its way up towards freedom.

Magda knew better than to run. After all, doing so would likely trigger hunting and chasing instincts. But still, once the massive forelimbs appeared and the beast pulled itself up and over the lip of the hole, she made sure to be a good distance away, keeping Luana between it and her.

While this was something she normally would never state, on pain of death, it was rather easy to lead this version of Alcina around by her stomach. So long as they had a trail of food, she was easy to please and keep relatively docile. In the end, they only needed one barrel as a treat, though it wasn’t quite that. As they passed it on the bridge, the creature must have smelled the contents, or perhaps recognized the shape…. but how that was possible, Magda had no idea, as it had no discernible eyes right now. Either way, the tooth lined maw easily engulfed the barrel and bit down, splintering the wood and draining the contents quickly. Afterwards, the creature seemed more agreeable.

Maybe it had just needed a drink.

By the time they had entered the Hall of The Four, the remaining castle staff had emerged from their hiding places. There were no reprimands or excuses given, only looks and sighs of relief. Bianca, Sylvia, and Mihaela quickly flocked to the form of the Countess who was currently gorging on wine and meat. Samuel latched themself onto Magda with a tight hug; one that she was not exactly ready to receive, but she was also not about to deny them this comfort. Vulga also soon joined in, likely in an effort to make Magda feel even more uncomfortable.

“If you two insist on being this close to me, I will be putting you to work,” Magda told them both before taking them to her workshop and retrieving the three sisters. Sam took Daniela, Vulga carried Cassandra, and Magda held Bela close. The urge to place the daughters next to their mother was great, but caution won out instead. Who knew if or how the Alcinadragon would react to seeing her children as nothing more than collections of flies? Yes, they were becoming more active, but there was no indication they were on their way to reforming back into their human shapes. They just need time, Magda thought. That’s all. They’ve been through trauma, and they just need time to recover.

Even though it was not yet midday, It was decided that everyone would spend the night in the Main Hall. It was the inner most room, central to most of the castle, and it was big enough to house all of them comfortably, even a dragon with a massive wingspan. There would be safety in numbers.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Magda asked Luana quietly.

“No. As far as he is concerned, everyone here is dead. Whether that is true or not…” They paused, not wanting to say the unthinkable. Understanding, Magda nodded and finished their sentence.

“…It’s best to keep up that appearance.”

“Precisely. We keep everyone centralized for the time being. Close off and safeguard the exit points, stay quiet, and wait. With any luck, things will be different twenty-four from now. Or at least there will be an indication of a difference.” The look the two of them shared was one of tiredness and threadbare hope. There wasn’t much left to run on, but so long as the lady of the house still drew breath, no matter what form she took, they still had their duties to attend to.

“Even if the man isn’t coming back, no one is going down to the outer gatehouse and drawbridge by themselves. One of the lords is currently weakened, you are still recovering from being shot multiple times, and while my mind may be playing into the medieval hierarchy of things, I wouldn’t put it past other things going wrong and our current situation being taken advantage of. We’ll go together. It’ll be faster that way.”

Despite initial outward appearances, the castle was rather impenetrable once locked down. A drawbridge, three heavy doors of varying designs dividing the exterior gatehouse, a massive portcullis at the Carriage Gate, and a smaller, but just as fortified, portcullis on the interior of the entrance hall that kept the front doors closed from the outside. For all intents and purposes, they would be safe and secure.

More of the staff wanted to assist in the closing of the gatehouse, but they were dissuaded by a few other duties; securing the door leading to the temple, keeping an eye on Alcina, and gathering up any supplies they would need for the night. They were also greeted by another unexpected task upon opening the castle doors.

In the middle of the Carriage Gate rested four crates; three of a similar size and one that was noticeably larger. Nothing had been ordered, and the Duke had packed up his caravan, vacating his usual spot some time during the battle with Alcina. Yet the note tacked onto the larger crate was in his elaborate, flowing script:

I’d wager these treasures are of more use to you than I. Think of this as a thank you for your years of patronage, as well as a farewell gift for the time being. Keep them safe.

Bonne chance,

The Duke

The lids came off easily, and inside, nestled amongst packing material were… statues? Odd ones at that. Beautiful, crystalline, and perhaps a bit macabre, they were three busts and one massive torso with what seemed to be very familiar proportions. Either the Duke had a sick sense of humor or this was something else.

“Take these inside,” Magda instructed, still a bit confused as to what they were. “Be careful with them. Don’t damage them.” She then hurried to catch up with Luana who had decidedly not stopped to investigate the crates.

While neither of them ventured out into the village, the lack of the noisy day to day life that would normally filter up from it was obvious and more than a bit unnerving. Yes, there were the occasional barks and growls from whatever lycans were still prowling around the buildings, but there were no sounds of people. That lack of background noise twisted Magda’s stomach and made her raise the drawbridge that much faster.

“Tomorrow… Tomorrow, we will search the village. Look for survivors,” Luana reassured her.

“I don’t think there are any other survivors,” she replied morosely, as her thoughts immediately went to the one person outside the castle that Magda actually cared about. Stay safe, Donna. Please God, keep her safe.

With each barricade put into place, Magda felt both safer and more alone… cut off from everything. But this was what needed to be done. As the final portcullis fell into place in the entrance hall, a burden lifted from her shoulders. There was still that sick feeling in her stomach, but her back felt lighter.

Why? She didn’t know. She didn’t deserve to feel better.

Everything was starting to blur together, and she didn’t care anymore. Magda remembered entering the Main Hall and seeing the Alcinadragon curled protectively around the crystalline torso that shared the measurements of the Countess, growling at anyone who came near it. She didn’t care or wonder why. Someone called out her name as she climbed the stairs, but she ignored it, legs carrying her faster and faster as she went. She didn’t want to talk. Her head, neck, and chest felt hot. She felt smothered and unable to breathe. She needed to get away.

By the time she was in the Hall of Joy, Magda was running. The library was a blur, as was the opera hall. Her eyes were open, but they saw nothing, as if her brain was on automatic. All she cared about was getting away.

She slammed the door to her workroom shut, turning the lock as well in order to keep herself physically, mentally, and emotionally away from everyone. She managed to go a few steps into the room before her knees gave way and she collapsed into a heap. That’s when the floodgates of emotion just opened up. She screamed and wailed, tears falling uncontrollably. All the pain and the burdens accumulated from this day, from these past few hours, came roaring out.

She had no idea how long she cried, nor how many in the castle heard her. She didn’t know if anyone knocked on the door to check on her, nor did she care. She would have ignored it anyway. At one point early on in her anguish, her stomach heaved. Only bile came out, as she had eaten nothing this entire day, but the wretching continued until even that was entirely discarded from her system. She cried until her tears ran dry; until only hiccuping breathes and weary, burning eyes remained.

Throughout all of this, there was one constant in Magda’s mind. She knew that if anyone, and she did mean anyone, interrupted her in this moment, there would be hell to pay. The staff had seen her mad and frustrated before, but they had never seen her rage. If anyone tried to comfort or hold her right now, they would be met with punches, thrown objects, and a slew of filthy, hate-filled words that she would likely regret at a later date. Perhaps even shears to the intruder’s throat, if she could reach them in time.

She didn’t want comfort. She wanted this pain. She wanted to hurt.

But most of all, she wanted her Bela.

Eventually though, the pain did subside. It slowly dulled and dissipated. To say it was completely gone would have been a lie, but it had settled for the time being. Magda’s body ached, as did her head. The floor beside her was a mess, but she made an effort and took the time to clean up the bile. She couldn’t stand having such a thing lingering in her workshop, no matter her mood or the circumstances. The process also helped the seamstress return to a semblance of herself.

After a change of clothes, a quick washing of her face and brushing of her teeth, Magda made her way back to the main hall. Samuel was lingering in the hallway, shuffling around a bit in an effort to entertain themself while probably waiting for Magda to re-emerge.

“Hey, Magda? Are… are you okay? Do you need anything? A hug maybe?” they asked, holding their arms open. Magda just shook her head and continued on. “Ice cream, maybe? We could sit and watch a movie together Not a scary movie or anythin’, but I’ll sit and watch something you’d like if it makes you feel better.” At that, Magda just sighed.

“Sam? Right now, what I want? I can’t have. So, please? Just let me go sit in peace next to what is left of the woman I love. All right?”

“Yeah, um…. about that? Okay, so we brought the statue things in like you said, but as soon as we did, the dragon thing that Lady D turned into? Yeah, she got real defensive and grabbed the big statue and isn’t giving it up. So, we then took the smaller ones and the fly piles got really active. Like super, super active. I mean, they’re not buzzin’ around like normal or human, but-“ Magda didn’t even wait for Sam to finish. Once more, she was off and running.

The daughters were on the opposite side of the fireplace from the Alcinadragon, though pretty much everyone was on the opposite side from her, as she took up an entire length of the hall. Samuel had actually been right, as the flies were more active since the last time she saw them. While not swarming, they were crawling over the statues, or rather, individual statues. Now that she was able to look at them properly, Magda could discern the shapes of the daughters in the torsos. Bela’s she knew well enough, and Daniela was a bit slighter than Cassandra… and all the while the appropriate flies were crawling over the appropriate statues. She still had no idea what they were for, but clearly they held some importance.

Whether it had been intentional or not, someone had set Bela in the alcove under the stairs, allowing a bit of privacy and seclusion if it was needed. Obviously, Samuel or someone else had taken Magda’s breakdown into consideration. Normally, the seamstress did not enjoy having special things done for her, but at the moment, she was not about complain.

Sitting on a blanket with her back against the wall, Magda actually managed to take a breath and relax for the first time that day.

They were alive.

Whether due to the added heat, time to recover, or whatever these odd statues were, the daughters were alive and moving around. They would be all right. The Alcinadragon had a forelimb curled around her own statue, surrounded by her favorite maidens, and was practically asleep, if her breathing was any indication. She would be all right. None of the servants had been gravely injured in the long term. The current state of the castle was an odd miracle, but it was a miracle nonetheless.

Looking at the crystalline statue beside her, Magda gently placed her fingertips upon it, in hopes that it would pulse or feel abnormally warm. That wasn’t the case, but one of the pale yellow flies that had been idly traversing the torso’s clavicle almost immediately changed direction and climbed onto her hand. Smiling, either from happiness or exhaustion, she brought the insect closer as it proceeded to march into the palm of her cupped hand. It happily buzzed and bumped its head against her skin, settling down in the warmth as Magda gently stroked it.

As if energized by her touch, the fly took to the air and landed in the hollow of the seamstress’ neck, where it buzzed and bounced around more; its little wings tickling her just enough to elicit a soft laugh from Magda.

“Hi, stea mică…” she said softly, body instinctively relaxing to that sensation. Magda wasn’t sure if it was her exhaustion or something else, but as her eyes closed and sleep began to take her, she could have sworn she heard Bela’s voice in the drone of the fly.

I won’t be long.

EPILOGUE:

“Magda? Magda, wake up. Somethin’s happening,” Sam’s voice cut through the blackness of sleep. The seamstress groggily rubbed her eyes and looked around, remembering where she was. Instinctively, she looked over at the Bela statue, worried for a moment at that she would find. The concern was unfounded as it was mostly covered by a swarm of flies, more than what she had seen prior to falling asleep.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” she asked, standing up. The Alcinadragon was still asleep, her harem of maidens still tending to her. If it was possible, she too looked healthier.

“There’s something goin’ on in the village. Luana told me to get you. They’re in Lady D’s bedroom.” That made sense. The Countess’ chambers had a view that overlooked the village. It was a smart place to scout from.

Making her way there, Magda discovered that night had fallen, meaning she had slept most of the day away. Why hadn’t they woken her up sooner? She didn’t need to have her sleep schedule even more messed up. However, the not so far off explosions made her decide otherwise, as she quickened her steps up the stairs.

Luana was out on the balcony of Alcina’s chambers, watching a veritable firefight going on in the village. Massive waving tendrils were erupting from the ground, knocking what looked like military helicopters out of the sky as explosions and gunfire rocked what was left of the buildings.

“Have they come towards the castle?” Magda asked after taking it all in.

“No,” Luana replied.

“Then unless they come towards the castle, it’s not our fight. I’m not about to start something with a group that has guns, explosions, and…” An airstrike briefly interrupted the seamstress as she talked. “Whatever the hell that is!”

“I simply thought you would like to be made aware of this. It was wise that we closed up everything when we did.” Magda didn’t know why Luana was making her seem more important than she actually was. They were the head servant. She was just the seamstress.

“…… You’re going to sit out here until it’s over, aren’t you?”

“Of course.” At that, Magda sighed.

“I’m not staying out here all night. It’s too cold. I’d suggest that you come in from the cold as well, but you’re just as stubborn as I am. I’ll be inside on the chaise lounge if you need me. Please don’t freeze out here, Luana. I’m not about to lose you after keeping you alive.” With that said, Magda went back inside and made herself comfortable on the Countess’ furniture, something she’d never do normally, but this wasn’t exactly normal circumstances. Come to think of it, the large hole in the floor was also out of the ordinary. That hadn’t been there earlier today… What had happened here after she left with Bela?

She must have fallen asleep, since the next thing she knew, Magda was woken up by the sudden slamming of a door, followed almost immediately by being rocked off the chaise lounge by an earth shattering explosion. Broken glass rained down on her as the shockwave smashed the windows. For a brief moment, she thought a nuclear device had gone off and she waited for the incineration wave to burn her to a crisp. When none of that happened, and the castle remained standing, she looked around.

Luana was crouched against the door leading to the balcony, covering their head out of instinct. Brushing the glass from her hair, Magda cautiously stood up and looked out the window. Smoke filled the air, but as the wind carried it away, she could see a decently sized crater in what had been the ceremony site. There was nothing left of the tendrils from last night, just like there wasn’t much left of the village.

“What in the hell happened?” she mumbled. “Do you even now think there are survivors?” she asked Luana. In response, they simply pointed to the distant shape of a quickly retreating helicopter. For a moment, anger blossomed in Magda’s chest. If that man was on that thing? How dare he be able to escape so easily after causing all this destruction. But the feeling and hatred vanished along with the helicopter. If he was gone, then so much the better. Better for him to be gone and forgotten than to remain a problem for them all.

“Goodbye and good riddance, stupid man-thing,” Magda said, before turning her back on the sunrise and returning, with Luana, to her family.

[nucleon-artistry]

Made from a crystalline lattice made from quartz crystals, both charged with ignis vis, and of neutral charge, all imbued with the living flame of Nitor. This foci was one of the first developed by the Flare and the most simple to construct, but do not mistake its simple design for being weak! Wand Focus: Fire is one of the strongest foci available in terms of deadliness in combat.

The Wand Focus: Fire has a variety of uses, both mundane and arcane, civil and military, be it simply lighting a candle to charring a piece of meat. The application we will primarily be looking at is its use in combat, and its various enhancements regarding this. The fire focus is the most commonly employed foci on the battlefield purely for its versatility and zoning powers. The wand focus at base will emit a short ranged cone of fire. Each formations Mage-lance is carefully drilled in the use of this foci without damaging its own unit, being deployed alongside Arquebusiers and whose purpose is to discourage cavalry and punish counterattacks by raining fire upon any opponents who survive the volleys of gunfire. The enhancements for this foci will however change its purpose and use cases drastically.

-The Wand Focus: Fire can be enhanced primarily down two paths, each focusing its power in a different way. One set of enhancements will compact the cone of fire into a 'bolt' of fire with a very long arc to burst upon targets and can be used for smashing into farther ranged targets or groups, commonly referred to as 'Firebolt'. It will need a short period to cooldown in order to prevent the foci and wand from turning into slag after large volleys.

-With careful tweaking and further dousing in vis, the Firebolt Foci can be enhanced further to compress all of its power into a single massive boulder of lava that will literally explode powerfully on impact. It moves painfully slow in a heavy arc which makes it difficult to use against fast targets and is far more useful against structures or entrenched forces, or large formations if carefully aimed. It takes quite some time for the wand to recover, and staves are far better equipped to handle heavier foci such as this. It is most commonly referred to as 'Eruption' due to its similarity to ejected masses of molten rock flung by volcanos.

-On the opposite path, the Foci's cone will become tighter and fire in a more condensed state, increasing its range moderately and allowing it to seep through armor when properly aimed. Its arc allows it to be sprayed over groups of enemies to rain down upon them and disperse crowds.

-The final enhancement down this path will focus the stream of fire into a very tight, highly damaging beam that can cut through most metals and woods very quickly. It is devastating when focused against armored targets and can even be used against fairly far away targets, though being fire its effect will decrease the farther range it reaches.

Other enhancements include

-Potency, which increases the heat of its flame and therefore deadliness at increasing vis costs per level of potency applied.

-Efficiency, which increases the flow-rate and channeling abilities of the foci allowing it to fire with less vis consumption, and slightly lower cooldowns per level of potency applied.

-Alchemist's Fire, which causes the flames spewed to stick to targets and burn for longer periods, which cause attacks to leave more destruction similar to the devastating effects of napalm.

[simonalkenmayer]

I had a great aunt who died either shortly before or after I was born, I never knew her. I heard that she was considered "crazy" (lots of history of mental illness on that side of the family, that nobody wanted to acknowledge), and the most common illustration of that was that she had packs and packs of toilet paper in her house. So, with that background in mind, I find it INTENSELY amusing how people have been hoarding toilet paper; like, who's crazy NOW bitches?

I still cannot comprehend that. It’s as if they all said “well if we are to be quarantined, what are the things we cannot live without?” And their mind turned to the things that are always on the list of late might store dashes—toilet paper, diapers, milk. And then they filled in around those items, oh yes we eat. So foods that we like, oh but they must freeze. So frozen foods. Oh but we need cleaning materials so we will buy anything.

My friends...I’m sure I don’t have to tell you this but...baby wipes, cpap machine wipes, armorall wipes will not kill a virus. Milk only keeps a couple of weeks at bes, a little more for the entire wall of yogurt you bought out for no reasont. You normally buy diapers once a month in a large box...and I’m fairly certain women only menstruate 12 times a year, so explain to me why there is an entire wall that is devoid of all female hygiene products, but there are still adult diapers.. If society collapses or utilities go down, your freezer means nothing and that entire pig you impulse-bought will not matter one bit.

Canned veg, powdered or shelf stable milk, canned meats and fish all fine. I walked down canned aisle today and it was empty except for an entire section of tinned fish and sardines. These are protein. If you’re starving you won’t care. Get the things your body needs. I noticed all the steak was gone, but beef jerky was doing fine. Why is condensed milk still on the shelves while jello isn’t? Why can I find no pasta, but boxed quinoa is sitting there? Why are all the frozen vegetable medleys gone, but hundreds of bags of riced vegetables, vegetable pasta, vegetable patties and so forth sitting there? No diapers but plenty of dish towels and safety pins. No allergy medicines...but the immune boosters are still in stock. Why is it still possible to buy lemon juice and vinegar, but not ammonia? None of this makes any sense.

No one is actually thinking straight. I’m convinced most people shop on a daily basis and follow their stomachs. There is no budget, no menu, no recipes, not even a knowledge of their own cabinets. They ran in and went mad and didn’t stop to think “well we really only eat spaghetti once a week. That multiplied by eight weeks totals 8. I therefore need about eight boxes of pasta at the most.” No. They walked in and put an entire flat of noodles in their carts. Yeast is running low here. Everyone is buying up bread making supplies, which is sensible for a long term, but then the next aisle over I find dozens and dozens of fresh bread just sitting there, and there’s still beer on the shelves. You can make bread with beer same as yeast. You can also just buy the bread that is there in addition to long term supplies. You could buy tritip or ribs, but how many do you need and why didn’t you also buy charcoal ? There’s no water bottles but the water filtration systems are fine. There’s no shortage of camping survival gear, but for inexplicable reasons, there’s no batteries.

People...what uses batteries these days? Everything charges. So why did you buy batteries? What are they for? Why didn’t you buy rechargeable and a solar charger? Why haven’t you bought fishing gear, but lighter fluid is thin on the ground? Nothing correlated to any one habitual task. Dish soap is there but not hand soap? They’re the same damn thing. Hydrogen peroxide is gone, but not the peroxide based dish cleaner detergent. Not a bottle of hand sanitizer in sight, but Everclear is still on the shelf and no one can find baby wipes for their children.

Humans have truly lost touch with their comprehension of what it means to live without a microwave. Unless you’re making cheese, you don’t need five gallons of milk. Unless you are making an unholy jello mould, you don’t need ten boxes of jello. Who, when worried about having bread, buys out every sliced loaf including the rye seed crack garbage that tastes like sandpaper, but leaves every kind of bun just sitting there?

I predict that there will be, when this begins to die down, a lull in store traffic as people try to finish up all the over stocking they did. Toilet paper will be restocked and then no one will buy it.

Anyway...it’s nonsense and all it does is force everyone else to make do. Perhaps that will be good for them. Perhaps some new odd recipes will come from this plague. Or perhaps you’ll all grow fat off bagel bites and macaroni pasta. Your houses will be spotless but you’ll still be insufferable. I hate to think how much food will have been wasted because it will settle to the back or bottom of a freezer and never be touched again, because it was the excess. Slowly it will grow frost and then eventually be pulled free and tossed in a bin. So much unbelievable waste.

It’s enough to literally make me furious.

I’ve snapped at so many people in stores recently. I normally try to stop myself, but these people are driving me insane. And I’ve been snapping at people who are pathetic in their ignorance and don’t deserve my rude education, but I cannot comprehend a person making a choice to have a child and then breaking down in the dairy aisle because they cannot find milk. My dear...half and half. Do you know what is in half and half? Go add an equal part of water and tell me how you feel then. Please research the process more thoroughly if you aim to create a human. Oh you’re here for your cereal? You need five gallons for cereal in the next three weeks? Huh. You know you can just blend almond butter and water and make an almond milk sufficient to that end, yes? You buy every bag of corn chips but not the corn meal or tortillas they’re made from and then become enraged because someone else bought all your salsa? Allow me to show you to the tomatoes and cilantro and explain how a knife works. Are we still confused?

Leave the supplies for others. You need roughly three times what you usually have. Make a list of meals you cook in a week and then buy three times that. Stop stockpiling nonsense.

[wiccan-succulento]

Aconitum Napellus

*This is a POISON.

(I know a lot of this is medical terms and may be hard to understand- I basically look up every term I come across. I’ve included definitions for most, but not all. I have tried finding my list of sources, but I have lost them. I have NOT personally had experience with this; therefore, some information may be slightly off, or not accurate according to new studies. Feel free to add new information, definitions, or facts. I am NOT a health professional.)

Common Names: Aconite, Monk’s Hood, Wolf’s Bane, Blue Rocket, Queen of Poisons, Soldier’s Helmet, Devil’s Helmet, Mouse Bane, Leopard’s Bane, Women's’ Bane, Brute Killer, Dog Killer

Native to: Central and Western Europe, Asia

Toxicity: Severe. All parts of the plants are toxic, especially the roots and root tubers

Poison will enter the body through contact with skin, contact with broken skin or wounds, ingestion, consuming any part of the plant. 

The taste of the poison is a very bitter one, followed by a burning of the mouth and possibly esophagus, then numbing of the mouth.

Toxins in the plant include:

Aconitine- cardiotoxin (heart toxin) and neurotoxin (nerve toxin)

Mesaconitine

Hypaconitine

Side Effects can take a few minutes to a few hours to show. 

Side Effects Include:

Abdominal Pain

Nausea

Vomiting

General Numbness

Partial Paralysis

Respiratory Paralysis

Paresthesia- abnormal sensation of the skin (tingling, numbness, chilling, burning, prickling) with no apparent physical cause

Diarrhea

Bradycardia- abnormally slow heart rythym

Hypotension

Chest pain

Palpitations

Sinus tachycardia- elevated sinus rhythm characterized by an increase in the rate of electrical impulses arising from the sinoatrial node (group of cells in the wall of the heart’s right atrium). In adults, sinus tachycardia is defined as a heart rate greater than 100 beats/min (bpm)

Ventricular ectopics- extra heart beats originating in the bottom heart chambers

Ventricular tachycardia- fast abnormal heart rate

Ventricular fibrillation- rapid and erratic electrical impulses of the heart

Defective color vision 

 The main causes of death are refractory ventricular arrhythmias & asystole. The severity of the toxins are related to the onset of rapid heart rhythm changes

Preexisting health conditions, old age, pregnancy, and breast feeding may amplify the side effects.

Overall in-hospital mortality is 5.5%

Antidotes & Remedies-  

It has been reported that the effects of aconite can be buffered/eliminated by various alchemical methods. 

Management is supportive, including immediate attention to vital functions and close monitoring of blood pressure & cardiac rhythm. 

Inotropic therapy** is required if hypotension persists. Atropine*^ should be used to treat bradycardia. 

Aconite-induced ventricular arrhythmias are often refractory to direct current cardioversion & antiarrhythmic drugs. 

Available clinical evidence suggests that amiodarone & flecainide are reasonable first-line treatment.

In refractory cases of ventricular arrhythmias & cardiogenic shock, it’s most important to maintain systemic blood flow, blood pressure, & tissue oxygenation by early use of cardiopulmonary bypass. 

The role of charcoal hemoperfusion to remove circulating aconitine alkaloids is not established.) 

The early use of cardiopulmonary bypass is recommended if ventricular arrhythmias and cardiogenic shock are refractory to first-line treatment 

**An inotrope is an agent that alters the force or energy of muscular contractions

*^ Atropine is a medication used to treat certain types of nerve agent and pesticide poisonings as well as some types of slow heart rate, and to decrease saliva production during surgery

Reducing toxicity-

Boiling, steaming, or soaking the plant may reduce toxicity due to the toxins being heat sensitive alkaloids. Since the toxic effect of raw aconite can be buffered/eliminated altogether by various alchemical methods, early Chinese medical texts focus much attention on processes involving the production of processed aconite. This includes procedures with special growing & harvesting techniques, special processing techniques, & herb combining techniques that blend the processed root with other foods and medicinal substances to safeguard against negative side effects. 

Ancient Chinese herbalists espoused a distinct concept of space referred to as “daodi yaocai” (herbs grown in a proper location). This concept is especially used when dealing with a variation of the Aconitum Napellus plant.

Li Shizhen and other ancient authorities of Chinese materia medica invariably state that “the best [aconite] is produced in Mianzhu in the region of Shu (northern part of today’s Sichuan province). Although aconite plants can also be found in other areas, they are unsuitable for treating disease.” A Song dynasty account gives a description of this particular region that is still known for producing China’s only “genuine” aconite 

The Chinese materia medica contains about 70 recorded types of post-harvest processing techniques aimed at reducing the toxic potential of aconite. The toxic effect of aconite stems from its alkaloids, especially aconitine. Since this ingredient is sensitive to heating, the processes of roasting, boiling or in most recent times, pressure-steaming, can reduce the effects of most alkaloids. Ancient Chinese texts specify that before heating, the aconite tuber should be peeled with bamboo knives. This labor-intensive technique has been abandoned in the modern production of medicinal aconite.

There is emphasis on the removal of the salt used for preservation of the aconite tubers after the harvest before they are brought to market. After the harvest, the unprocessed aconite root will decay rapidly (within a week) unless it is immediately immersed in brine. Brine immersion will embalm the root during the time when the entire year’s harvest is waiting for the typical step-by-step detoxification process consisting of skin removal and the application of heat. Traditional paozhi techniques specify that all brine is removed from the raw aconite slices before steaming or baking them, by soaking and rinsing them repeatedly in basins of fresh water. Seasoned Fire School practitioners, i.e. the contemporary scholar-physicians Drs. Lu Chonghan and Liu Lihong, have observed that industrial aconite production during the last two decades has flooded the market with high salt content aconite slices. To most kidney deficient patients, this significant salt residue in most pharmacy grade aconite (70% in most contemporary aconite products) is harmful and may be partially responsible for some of the side effects associated with aconitine alkaloids in the pharmacological literature. In addition, it has become common practice in recent years to remove the root peel by immersion in hydrochloric acid, defying the stringent alchemical experience of aconite detoxification garnered during the last two millennia.

Medicinal Uses -

Medicinal applications of aconite were not fully explored until the 18th century when Viennese physician Anton Stoerck published his clinical observations about benefits of the “internal use of aconite in humans” in 1762. Alleged therapeutic uses include treatment of joint & muscle pain. As a tincture applied to skin, it’s claimed to slow heart rate in cardiac patients. Other claimed uses: reduction of fevers & cold symptoms. Some take it by mouth for facial paralysis, joint pain, gout, finger numbness, cold hands & feet, inflammation, painful breathing & fluid in space surrounding the lungs (pleurisy), certain heart problems (pericarditis sicca), fever, skin diseases, & hair loss. Aconite is also used as a disinfectant to treat wounds & promote sweating. Some apply aconite to skin in liniment as a “counter irritant” for treating facial pain, joint pain, & leg pain (sciatica). Aconite root contains chemicals that may improve circulation, but also contains chemicals that can harm the heart, muscles, & nerves

.

History-  

Aconitum Napellus was used in ancient times as poison on spears and arrows for hunting and battles. The tips and (possibly) shafts pf arrows were covered with the poison so anyone helping a wounded soldier may get poisoned as well by skin contact.

As wolfsbane, it was believed to repel werewolves and wolves. The poison was placed in raw meat which would kill wolves attacking livestock.

 Ancient Romans used it as a method of execution. 

In Hong Kong, aconite is the most common cause of severe poisoning from herbs. In Asia, toxicity is related to the use of aconite in traditional medicines. In western countries, aconite poisoning is associated with consuming the plant 

Supposedly used in times of war by retreating armies to poison enemy water supplies. Generals would realize the poisoning and be forced not to pursue the enemy. 

The poison was placed on the tips of harpoons to kill whales more easily. 

The murder of Percy John by his brother-in-law, Dr. George Henry Lampson, was carried out using aconite

“If [aconite] sap is condensed by simmering, it is called Shewang (Shooting Net) and used to kill wild animals.” The 5th century Daoist hermit Tao Hongjing elaborates further: “When the sap of the raw [aconite] vine is extracted by mortaring it to a pulp, and then concentrating it by simmering, the paste yielded from this process is called Shewang. Arrows dipped into it can be used by hunters to shoot wild animals; when hit by such an arrow, an animal will fall to the ground after 10 steps. If a human is struck by such an arrow, s/he will die as well, unless the poison is swiftly neutralized by an antidote.

Known Cases

Very low margin of safety between therapeutic and toxic doses of aconitine.

A 66-year-old female with no known heart disease obtained Aconite from an herbalist. She was instructed to make tea with it to treat her osteoarthritis*. About 90 minutes after consuming the tea she developed numbness of the face, arms, & legs. Rapidly followed by nausea, weakness, & chest pressure. In an Emergency Room, she was found to have an abnormal heart rhythm. After 4 hours of treatment with drugs & electrical shocks to her heart, a normal heart rhythm was restored.

* most common form of arthritis. It occurs when the protective cartilage cushioning the ends of bones wears down over time

There are cases of poisoning in which people intentionally swallow Aconitum napellus they grow because of claimed therapeutic effects. A 21-year-old male acquired Aconitum napellus plants after reading a book on herbal medicine. He ground up the dried roots & filled capsules with the material. He took 1 capsule daily for several months to treat anxiety. (No symptoms were reported during that time) In order to increase the effects one evening, he swallowed 3 capsules and went to sleep. Five hours later he awoke with generalized numbness, nausea, diarrhea, dizziness, chest pain, shortness of breath, & defective color vision (seeing purple). It was believed that early symptoms went unnoticed because he was asleep. In an ER, his heart rate was 43 bpm, and he had an abnormal heart rhythm. Plasma concentrations of aconitine supported poisoning by A. napellus. He spent 48 days in the hospital.

SOURCES: N/A, my list was lost when moving my information to a new document. I know for a fact I have spanned at least 6 websites, and 2 YouTube videos (only one of which was helpful) as well as the materia medica of John Henry Clark

[paodequeijofeliz-blog]

Don’t you remember?

Bloodbound Fanfiction (characters and main story belongs to Pixelberry Studios).

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed and MC (Annie)

Information: this takes place long after Bloodbound 3. In this scenario, MC was Turned only after giving birth to their daughter.

Summary: Thirty years after meeting Annie for the first time, now Kamilah is married and has a daughter who is about to get married as well. While preparing the wedding, they decide to remember Lysia’s childhood stories. This part 3 was inspired by an anon request and they’re the one who had this wonderful idea, thank you anon! You have all the credit for it!  💛

Warnings: just fluff and funny.

Part 1 Part 2

January 8th, 2049

The group was still having dessert and some coffee at the restaurant. Soon they would be leaving to take care of their tasks. Lysia had an appointment with the florist in the afternoon, where she would meet Drake so both could finally choose the flowers. Her attention was now captured by Lily showing some pictures of LA, until Adrian asked her a sudden question.

“Darling, do you remember when exactly did you fall in love with your fiancé?”

She fixed her posture, a little surprised. It was the first time Lysia ever thought about it. “Hmm… I guess… It was the day he met my mothers for the first time. When we were doing a school project together.”

“The night we made brownies? Really?” Annie’s eyes were sparkling of excitement. “I can’t believe it, I was there! And I noticed how he would smile at you.”

“All I remember is the stupid one.” Kamilah sighed, taking a sip of her espresso.

“Kyle! Oh my god, yes. He was hitting on you.” Lysia loved that part.

“WHAT?” Lily was almost finished with her dessert but dropped the spoon the minute she heard it. “Tell us. Please. I beg you.”

“Oh, my.” The Egyptian got back to her coffee, refusing to tell that story.

“Well, luckily I have a pretty good memory.” Annie couldn’t help herself. “It was a regular night…”

--------------------------------------

September 20th, 2041

Lysia wasn’t a shy teenager, but she could be quite reserved and just a little bit judgemental regarding people her own age. Therefore, for her to bring friends to the Penthouse, it took years and a lot of encouragement from her mothers. Well, from Anna, since Kamilah couldn’t care less about other mortal teenagers.

That’s why that night should go well, so Lysia would feel comfortable enough to bring them again. It was just a school project, but Annie knew how kids could be, so she was fixing some snacks in the kitchen and had a silly program going on the TV. Luckily, there would be a lot of laughs and not much of studying tonight.

“Mom, I’m home!” Lysia’s voice came from the living room as she entered, followed by three classmates.

“I’ll be there in a sec!” The woman was just finishing to heat up some Brazilian snacks that would certainly blow their minds. After putting all of it on a bowl, and taking another one of popcorn, she left to the living room and dropped it on the coffee table. “Here you go! Brain food.”

“Wow!” someone whispered under breath.

“Mom, these are…”

“Wait, wait, wait, let me get the soda first!” she ran back into the kitchen, leaving Lysia with a hand hanging in the air.

“Is that your mother? I mean… It’s…” the girl standing beside the armchair couldn’t blink. “She is so pretty!”

“I think Nina just fell in love with your mom.” One of the boys laughed, the blond jock.

Annie came back with a huge smile and a trade of glasses filled by some coloured beverage. “There’s pink lemonade, and some other different sodas here. But if you want, I can bring some juice, tea, coffee, water, we’ve got it all. Alright, who is who?”

Lysia sighed, getting back to introducing them. “So, this is Drake. The one with the jersey on is Kyle and that’s Nina. Everyone, this is my mother, Mrs. Sayeed.”

“Annie.” She dismissed the formalities, stepping forward to give each one of them two kisses on the cheeks. That made the girl next to the armchair blush and giggle. “Well, there’s soda, popcorn annnnnnnnnnd something else. It’s a Brazilian snack, we call it salgadinhos. Just imagine if someone took a bunch of raw French fries and stuffed them with cheese, chicken, meat, whatever you want, then fried it. I believe this is the closer I can get of explaining how it tastes like. Try it. You’re gonna love it.”

“Thanks, mom.” Lysia went to get herself the only glass that wasn’t soda, but iced tea. “Alright, let’s sit on the floor and start this project.”

While everybody got settled quickly, the woman left them alone, not even noticing how Nina’s eyes followed her. The girl sighed and turned back to Lysia, a goofy smile on her face. “Your mother is the most beautiful woman that has ever lived.”

“Oh, gee! This is awesome!” Drake was super excited about a chicken snack he took from the bowl.

“Coxinha. It’s my favourite.” Lysia smiled at him for a second, but dropped her gaze to the books, trying to hide the way her cheeks blushed.

“I swear, her eyes, and her lips, and the waves of her hair, it’s all just so…”  Nina was still dreaming about Annie. “And the voice, that accent, where is she from again, Lys? I bet is a sexy country.”

“Brazil.”

“Told ya. Sexy country.” The girl popped one of those fried meat balls on her mouth.

“What makes Brazil a sexy country?” Lysia arched one eyebrow, a movement she learned with Kamilah over the years.

“Your mum.” Nina swallowed, eyes still lingering in the way to the kitchen.

“Oh, god. Alright, focus. Let’s get this project done.”

Slowly, the conversation started to fade away, as they got distracted by reading and writing. In a couple hours, Annie went to check the silent group to find out the food was gone, and so were the drinks. She took the bowls and glasses out, not risking making a sound, never even noticing how Nina sighed and blushed at her side. It was almost 8 p.m. by now, so Kamilah would be arriving soon. The woman stared at the clock in the kitchen, anxious about what to do. They all seemed so quiet and compenetrated, Annie didn’t want to interrupt, but…

“Mom?” Lysia called her at the door, an uneasy expression on her face.

“Hi, baby. Need some help?”

“No, no. Just… Wondering. We did a lot. Not all of it, as to be expected, but a lot.” The girl bit her lower lip, as she was still trying to decide whether to ask for something or not.

Annie knew that movement. It was like her daughter’s thoughts were being said out loud to her. She wanted to have fun, but her serious and committed little heart was telling her to stay focused on the studying.

“Hmmm, that’s good. But I think you should take a break. You don’t wanna risk writing a bad conclusion cause you’re too tired after doing a great introduction and development, do you?”

Lysia’s eyes sparkled. Excitement and relief. “I supposed not. What do you suggest?”

“Well, I was about to make us some brownies. Why don’t you call your friends here, and we make it together? We could put some music on too.”

“That sounds fun. Right?”

“It is fun.” Annie took that sweet teenager’s face between her hands. A seventeen-year-old girl, so incredibly smart and confident, yet so insecure about making friends. “Trust me. They’ll love it.”

She couldn’t be more right. In ten minutes, there was some pop music playing from a phone and a bunch of teenagers trying to figure it out how to make brownies. Mostly, they were just stealing the M&M’s, making jokes about the worst trash movie ever made and confessing the most embarrassing dates they had. Annie won their affection enough to pull Lysia into the conversation, then shrewdly distanced herself, concentrating on cutting the fresh baked brownies, so her daughter would have all the attention.

The entire house smelled like chocolate. That was the first thing Kamilah noticed when entering through the front door. All the unfamiliar voices were being heard even from the elevator, and for a moment The Vampire had forgotten all about that little gathering. She sighed, so tired. Left the purse on the table and high heels by the door, eager to have some brownies too.

Kamilah was jut crossing the hallway to the kitchen when a boy talking on the phone almost bumped into her.

“A… I’ll call you back later, dude…” Kyle’s eyes widened at that vision. “Holy crap, you’re gorgeous.”

“Excuse me?” the Vampire arched an eyebrow.

“Kyle Grant. You must be Kamilah.” He put a hand on the wall and a cocky smile on his face. “Heard a lot about you.”

There were so many answers crossing her mind now, but all she did was look down and pat his head. “I’m sure you did, little boy. Now why don’t you go sit with your friends, huh?”

And just like that, Kamilah removed his arm and entered the kitchen to look for her wife. Annie was cooking something by the stove, while the others already started eating the hot brownies. Lysia only gave her mother a cold glance, for she was still mad about a fight they had a couple of days ago. Drake was too distracted trying to impress the girl with good jokes to notice the tall woman, as was Nina, her entire attention captured by Annie’s explanation of what “brigadeiros” were.

“I swear, my love, one day everybody in New York will know all about Brazilian cuisine because of you.” The Vampire hugged her from behind, placing a kiss on the top of her head.

“Nah, it’s just party food. I haven’t even started explaining our barbecues.” She relaxed on Kamilah’s arms for a second, still stirring the melted chocolate with condensed milk in the pot. “There’s more brownies in the microwave. I saved you some.”

“Now you may have my heart.”

“Hmmm I already do, sweetheart.”

The Egyptian gave her a last kiss on the cheek and went to take a few brownies, choosing only the ones that had nuts instead of M&M’s. Suddenly, she felt the shadow of a small figure behind her, together with the smell of cologne. “Oh, no.”

“So, a fan of chocolate, huh?” Kyle hopped on the kitchen’s counter, trying to get closer. “What about we go out for some ice cream after this? Let’s ditch them.”

“You know you’re a baby, don’t you?” Kamilah took a bite from one of the brownies, barely glancing at the child beside her.

“Thank you, hotstuff. But I prefer to be called ‘babe’ instead of ‘baby’.”

“So, Annie, my wife and love of my life, do you need help there?” she turned to the woman by the stove, who only laughed at the despair on the Egyptian’s eyes.

“Of course not, you keep Kyle company, I can see how much you’re enjoying it.”

Kamilah clenched her jaw, turning back to the small cocky teenager who just took some mint bubble gum out of his pocket. Before she could say anything, though, Nina jumped between them. “K! Your father is calling me, I think he’s waiting outside. Can I get a ride?”

“Shit. Fine.” He winked at the tall woman at the same time he pinched her cheek. “Guess I’ll see you around. Hey, Drake, coming?”

From across the kitchen, Lysia was trying not to laugh at the image of a confused Kamilah who just met a hormonal seventeen-year-old jock for the first time in a very long lifetime. By the girl’s side, the other boy just shook his head negatively. “Later, I have my bike downstairs. See you two on Monday.”

 “Your call. Bye y’all!”

“Ahm. You. Nice. To meet. Farewell.” Nina blushed terribly, hesitating with the words, but melted when Annie gave her a quick goodbye hug.

After they were gone, the woman left the pot to cool off a bit, turning to see Drake’s silly smile to Lysia. She had been noticing how sweet he was around her daughter. “If you need, I can give you a ride home later. You can put the bike on the trunk.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Sayeed. But I’ll be fine. Let me take care of the cleaning.” The boy stood up and took the plates from the table, finally greeting Kamilah with a polite smile.

“Alright, if you insist. Kami, come with me?”

 Annie took her wife by the hand, leaving both teenagers to talk while doing the dishes. The Vampire still had a last piece of brownie that she gladly parted in half to share with the short woman who was hugging her by the waist. Annie took a bite from Kamilah’s hand, her eyes sparkling in the hallway’s lights.

“You seem so happy, my love.” The Egyptian kissed her lips, feeling the chocolate taste on them.

“I am always happy when I’m around you two.”

“I see what you mean.” Kamilah lost herself in that tight hug, listening to the adorable sound of Lysia’s laugh coming from the kitchen. “It feels good to be home.”

[sohannabarberaesque]

“Underwater America with Peter Potamus” (episode 20: the Florida Keys)

[In opening this episode, we can imagine the van which transports our merry band of divers continuing down US Hwy. 1 past Miami--essentially having left Miami after the diving experience in the springs country last week, and heading towards no less than the Florida Keys, diver’s paradiso and then some. Over such footage, we can imagine the narration:]

PETER POTAMUS, and none other than: For some reason, the waters off the Florida Keys have become something of a diving Mecca of late ... and in this particular episode, our motley crew of divers--OK, not that motley--is going to learn just why....

[We can find the van travelling by way of the Card Sound drive into Key Largo, the northern gateway to the Keys, and crossing the Jewfish Key Drawbridge as a decent little shortcut into--]

None other than the legendary Key Largo (and so much for the movie treatment) ... because after all, our first diving stop is no less than the world’s first underwater preserve! [Witness the signs welcoming visitors to John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park, and our finding the intrepid crew getting camp set up in the park’s camping area for a couple nights] ... as in John Pennekamp Coral Reef State Park, established to preserve what’s essentially a living community underwater that had long been regarded as a boater’s nuisance, especially the closer to shore that you got ... none other than the coral reef.

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY, trying not to get overly giddy at the prospect: Which, certainly, is probably closer to what my ancestral home looked like--but no, I’m not talking about Bubbleland! At least the very idea of diving over an actual coral reef is certainly bound to be interesting!

MAGILLA GORILLA, likewise: I can certainly tell you, Squiddly, that I couldn’t concur with you more! You remember my famous surfing attempt?

MILDEW WOLF, adding the inevitable snark: Who wouldn’t?!

LIPPY THE LION: Now, honestly--diving into a coral reef isn’t as difficult as walking into a forest for a hike now, wouldn’t it?

PETER POTAMUS, getting back into narrator mode as supper is out of the way: Which, I can certainly acknowledge, is something of an interesting prospect ... which was made even more interesting when one of the park rangers explained where snorkelling may be the best way to discover most of the reef within the park’s waters, what with much of the reef area being less than 15 feet deep below the surface!

[The scene shifts to the following morning, and one of the park’s dive boats guiding our divers out to an interesting section of the reef, and an easily-divable such]

And what could be a wonderful prelude to some wonderful diving ahead than taking a guide boat out to the reef, with one of the park rangers explaining how best to make the experience worthwhile?

[Thence going into a conversation between the park ranger/dive guide and members of the dive party, with as much interesting conversation about themselves as some practical diving pointers, particularly such against touching coral--essentially a living organism--and particularly so the more lethal examples like fire coral and staghorn coral. What’s especially impressive is where the dive guide is impressed about Peter’s diving prowess and his learning such at a young age.

[Soon, without much formality, the action shifts to mask-and-snorkel such over this magnificent specimen of living coral reef--initially on the ocean surface, then some dives down to the bottom. Even with cheesy industrial-film background music, snorkelling among our crew couldn’t get to be more fascinating, especially as Peter “himself” points out an example of brain coral and the rather whimsical patterns so made. Even the guide is rather impressed.]

(artist: @fini-mun​)

And who wouldn’t be impressed by such a sight ... especially when things start getting more interesting heading into Key West ...

[Hence, the drive southward along the Overseas Highway, as US 1 is known over the Keys, towards Key West continues with some brief stops for snorkelling hijinks in the likes of Islamorada, Marathon, crossing the Seven-Mile Bridge towards Cudjoe Key and then--]

None other than Key West ... which is as far as it gets in the United States!

[Melange of scenes in and around Key West calling to mind some Banana Splits “romp” sequence, only with cheesy music in the background, wherein we find our party at the Southernmost Point Monument, President Truman’s “Little White House,” Hemingway’s house and the resident cats, the Duval Street bar and shopping district--and then at the legendary Sloppy Joe’s, where, over their conch stew--]

I have to admit that Key West is about as interesting as it can get ... and it was over some conch stew at the legendary Sloppy Joe’s Tavern that I had an idea: Fixing up our own conch stew over a campfire, and using fresh-caught conch from the waters off the Keys! [Followed by a hilarious wild-goose chase all over Key West trying to find the ideal conch stew receipt, not to mention the makings for as much said stew--aside from the conch--as key lime pie that would be the dessert therefor]

HARDY HAR-HAR, myopic as ever: And you thought finding decent conch was going to be rather easy, especially in waters such as these....

HOKEY WOLF, with a likely glint of the old Sgt. Bilko in his eye: So was it ever going to be easy finding decent conch, to begin with?

[And so, doubling back towards Miami on US 1, encamping themselves just past the Seven-Mile Bridge on a somewhat desolate beach facing the Atlantic side ...]

PETER POTAMUS, narrating: Such would be where we would have our conch-stew feast ... with Mildew Wolf, Loopy DeLoop and Breezly Bruin getting the initial preparations set up ... Wally Gator fixing up the key lime pie--

WALLY GATOR, going into that Proud Floridian spiel: Ain’t there anything typically Floridian as key lime pie for dessert ... [let’s just hope he doesn’t make a serious mess mixing up the key lime juice, egg yolks and sweetened condensed milk there ... and with the action shifting to the waters offshore--]

PETER POTAMUS: --and Breezly Bruin, Loopy De Loop, Magilla Gorilla, Lippy and Hardy, led by yours truly, seeking out some conch with the mask and snorkel ... you just have to make sure you don’t pick up any queen conch, which is protected....

[Back to shore, and, even with the roux being made ready and the conch meat being extracted, rinsed out and diced....]

Admittedly, prepared over a campfire such as ours, conch stew takes awhile to simmer, to develop such nuances of flavour, to tenderise the conch meat ...

[Segue into dinner, with the finished stew being taken with relish and gusto]

... yet for some reason, I just had to wonder how it was that our conch stew proved so irresistable, there were hardly any leftovers ...

SQUIDDLY DIDDLY, taken from an underwater cinematographer’s perspective: The very idea of from-scratch conch stew, and using fresh-caught conch meat at that, couldn’t have been more interesting, come to think of it.

MAGILLA GORILLA: Especially with so much to talk about ...

LOOPY De LOOP: And I wonder if it was something in the conch stew itself that let loose such conversation as much as appetites!

MILDEW WOLF: You can say that again ...

[Out of the final break, and then--]

PETER POTAMUS: I have to acknowledge this may have been a high point in our diving expedition ... but there’s more where we came from ... so make it a point to consider discovering the diving experience for yourself ... and until next we meet ... enjoy the dive!

[Over and out ... and over the Keys, at that]

@warnerarchive​ @joey-gatorman​ @warnerbrosentertainment​ @hanna-barbera-land​

[50853]

The 14 Amazing Tips to Gain Weight Faster

It's good for underweight people to know how to gain weight. When you talk about ways to put on weight, usually one might think of it as a cakewalk, simply just go on eating and eating without thinking. However, in this scenario, it is very important to know the best way to gain weight healthily. Following are some tips to gain weight fast in a week: 1. Eat more calories than your body can burn: There is no rocket science behind this tip but simple mathematical logic. If a system has a greater inflow as compared to associate degree out flux, there are presumably probabilities that the system might resort to the buildup of calories 2. Embody a macromolecule-rich diet: Protein helps build lean muscle mass. Thus, a bigger quantity of protein-rich foods like soybean, fish, eggs, dairy farm products, nuts, or whey protein helps gain weight. 3. Augmented carbs and high-fat foods: It is extremely vital to consume high saccharine and high-fat foods like bananas, oats, quinoa, blueberries, sweet potatoes, cheese, dark chocolate, etcetera Also, confirms to possess a minimum of 3 wholesome meals . 4. Consumption of energy-rich foods: confirm to eat, energy-dense foods like loopy together with almonds, walnuts, peanuts, dried fruits including raisins or prunes, dark chocolate, high-fat dairy farm foods like condensed milk, full-fat cream, cheese, milk, veggies like potatoes and yams, etc. 5. Drink Milk: Prefer full-fat milk and have a minimum of one full enclose a day. 6. Macromolecule and weight gain supplements: Such supplements are offered within the kind of powders which may be ready as shakes with milk and consumed. Avoid moving into a habit of solely wishing on this product and handily skipping healthy diets. Use such supplements from credible brands, in restricted amounts and for a restricted time. 7. Sleep and Yoga: it's not a recent locution however rather a quite recent one, which the key to fine health lays not simply in healthy, tasty food but also, lots of sleep. Sleep plays a vital role not just in your mental well-being throughout the day, but also has been scientifically tested to aiding digestion and the overall metabolic process. Similarly, the incorporation of yoga in your daily routine also helps distress likewise as stabilizes your sleep patterns, and uplift your mental and emotional health. Of these factors eventually culminate into a calmer, relaxed mind, and forestall any unessential weight loss, improves appetite, and indirectly contribute to weight. 8. Eat Pattern: Whenever, there's a selection in a very mixed platter, like consumption your carb-rich or calorie-rich diet and macromolecule-rich diet initial and also the veggies later. This commissions the system to digest carbs and protein previous fats, vitamins, or minerals. Such a trend in digestion aids within the early burning of the digestible calories and bit by bit you finish up eating again. 9. Additional meals: Make passage for extra meals like morning snacks or evening snacks; that may also facilitate increase body weight. 10. Drinking water: it's necessary to avoid drinkable before having any meal. This simply fills the abdomen and leaves no space for food. Build it a habit to drink water frequently however solely once meals. 11. Quit intermittent abstinence: Intermittent fasting could be a conception related to weight loss and it works conjointly quite perfectly. However, once you think {about} gaining weight instead of shedding some, it is necessary to possess regular meals, or maybe additional meals throughout the Rice, Red meat: A bowl of rice of about 200gms, forms a good supply of carbohydrates and may be enclosed within the diet as well. Likewise, consumption of chicken pumps up the muscle mass. 12. Whole wheat bread: Starch-containing bread is that the best source of carbohydrates associates’ degree helps in weight gain. 13. Eggs: The best food that has been prescribed for ages by not simply doctors, however conjointly our friends, relatives, or family for fast energy, instant weight gain, and higher health are eggs. Even body-builders to attain an exact bulk weight are placed on an egg diet. Therefore, it's very vital to also embody eggs in your meal. 14. Fats/Oils/Yogurt: embody full-fat food and avoid seasoned ones or those that contain low-fat content. Embody avocado and olive oils in your diet as they contribute to a healthy heart and contain unsaturated fats. The key to recollect here is that weight gain ought to solely happen healthily and safely and not by some habit-forming habit of gorging on junk food.

[takatukiiti]

How microwaves work

Nowadays living in a hurry is the norm, that's why the microwave has become an almost indispensable appliance, since its main advantage is speed. It defrosts, heats or roasts a wide variety of foods at a higher speed than that of a conventional oven, but I wonder if we know how to use the microwave correctly. If you don’t own a microwave yet check out this review

The microwave oven is easy to use and very useful for busy people who need to have food cooked right away. In addition, it is ideal to use as a complement to a freezer , since you do not have to be aware of taking things out in advance. With the microwave, the food is defrosted quickly and then reheated.

How a microwave works

In a conventional oven, the interior of the oven and the container containing the food are heated. The heat gradually passes to the center of the food. In a microwave oven, these penetrate through the container, directly into the food . The waves vibrate the food particles that enter into friction, creating heat.

The food heats up quickly, but the pan and oven interior are still fresh . If the container is heated, it is only by contact with hot food. Food does not toast because it does not stay in the oven long enough.

Suitable containers

We should not use metal or aluminum containers in the microwave , since the metal reflects the waves interfering with them. However, we do not need new equipment for this oven, since the dishes we have will serve us perfectly, provided that they do not have metallic or gold edges.

Cover

We will cover the container only if indicated in the recipe . The glass or sticky plastic lids serve to cover the food that must remain juicy. We must take special care when removing the cover because we could burn with the steam that has been condensed.

Using the microwave oven

Cooking in a microwave oven is faster than cooking in a traditional oven . A potato with skin is roasted in eight minutes, but if you have more than one dish in the oven the cooking times are longer, so four potatoes with skin will take twenty minutes to roast.

During microwave cooking, there is no loss of heat, moisture, or flavor. Fewer seasonings are required , especially salt, which hardens the food, so you must put this carefully. When we cook vegetables, we must season them and stir them in butter once they are cooked and drained.

Microwaved food does not burn or dry , rice remains loose and light, roast meat stays juicy, and baby food and bottles heat up in seconds.

Repose

Once the food has been removed from the microwave, it should be left to rest in its container for a few moments , since cooking will continue for a few more minutes. The heat continues to penetrate from the outside to the center of the food, as I have previously mentioned.

Therefore, it is preferable, therefore, not to cook the food completely in the microwave oven, since it will finish being done during the minutes of rest, and we will avoid that they are dry and little juicy.

From the freezer to the table

All frozen foods, at home or commercially, can be quickly defrosted in a microwave. It must be done in two stages. We must thaw this food first in the microwave and then let it rest, so that the temperature is uniform, before reheating or cooking it.

Only frozen vegetables can be cooked without counting the standing time, directly from the freezer to the table. This defrosting method is safe and quick and there is no need to remove food from the freezer in advance.

What a microwave does not

A microwave does not offer as many possibilities as a conventional oven. It cannot toast food or leave it crispy, nor does it serve dishes like meringues, soufflés, large cakes and flowing doughs.

Recipe adaptation

Generally speaking, all dishes that are boiled, steamed or baked can be adapted for the microwave oven . Dishes that should be crispy do not go well without a finish by another conventional means. * Meat-based recipes require less fat and less liquid. * Stew time will be reduced by one third. * The biscuits and genovesas will contain 25% more liquid and will be cooked in greased containers. * We must stir the stews during cooking so that the ingredients move and thus facilitate cooking.

Until recently, I was quite reluctant to use the microwave, but recently I discovered that, well used, it is an almost indispensable tool in the kitchen and that it can complement the rest of the appliances we have. I hope I have dispelled any doubts about whether we know how to use the microwave correctly .

[usukitomogara]

Especially on sultry days near the end of the rainy season like today, the flesh on both sides turns into an aroma diffuser of death. It is a an exceptionally hideous Oai odor, endlessly also emit and without Mokumoku, change and to hell with the interior space in a moment.

I am a serious, so-called wakiga. It is a wakiger.

If the maximum level of armpits is 10 and the power to bury a hamster in the armpit in seconds, I'm a fairly legendary category of about 8-9.

My half-life can be called a fight with my wakiga. When I was a teenager, I was worried about to die. After graduating from high school, I had apocrine gland removal surgery. It recurred in my late twenties. It became stronger and revived. I was worried again. Every effort was made, but in vain. With the years, the smell became stronger. Today, when I'm in my forties, this armpit has the strongest odor, but I'm not worried at all. I'm even thankful for being born in Wakiga. What is this change like?

It is generally said that there are different types of wakiga odors, but in my case, the rotten odors of milk, fish, meat and onions, urine, vinegared rice, mold, iron odors, all of which are left over. Is blended without. Approximately all the bad odors that a human can have are generously condensed into a certain gas. It is, so to speak, a Western music HIT compilation "NOW" in the world of wakiga.

The quality is high, but the quantity is great. The white T-shirt is yellow for both sides so that it doesn't last for a season. The gray T-shirt is sweaty before you leave the house. When I was delivering a newspaper, I sometimes delivered it by pinching the morning newspaper. Originally a highly absorbent newspaper, the thirty copies of the morning edition were all covered in sweat from the front page to the program table.

On a hot and humid day like today, I think it's a nightmare-like smelt.

As I continue to smell the same odor 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, I feel the stimulus is fresh, so it's easy to imagine how much hell someone else stepping into my wakidein range can see me to hell. .. Moreover, its power goes beyond mere "smell". The power of wakiga is supposed to be effective only against the nasal cavity, but at my level, the attack extends to the throat and lungs.

Since the apocrine glands beside me awoke and wakiga began to rage, people nearby were coughing violently. In a crowded train, in a classroom, at a convenience store, and as people pass by on the street, people cough with a few tears. A weak-legged grandfather with a cane blows his dentures, and coughs like crazy enough to pull his soul half out of his body. Of course, there is also the possibility of beliefs due to excessive self-consciousness. As a single hope, the logic is that the visual sensations rather than the odor, that is, the teratogenicity of my body, makes people dislike and consciously coughs as an expression. I had also assembled. But it was useless.

On the street, I once tried to overtake a young eagle worker who walked forward. The younger man began to cough violently when the distance gradually decreased and three meters left. With the same tone that I often hear on the train. The young man has not even perceived a pedestrian behind him. People were cruelly honest about the transparent gas of Wakiga.

Naturally, I was worried about to die when adolescents were concerned about the opposite sex.

When I was a junior high school student, every year the summer was approaching and I wanted to die from the end of GW. Finally, I decided to prepare for only Y-shirts. This is because the sweat stain becomes noticeable, as well as the smell becomes stronger. Like malnourished children in developing countries, or Pygmon, I always close my arms tightly, and when I pick up things, I move them only from the elbows. Such efforts were vain, and Amraco gals who were high in school caste sweared in the halls and so on, saying, "I'm really wacky, but w", and were given nicknames such as durian, kebab, and sushitaro.

It was winter, especially hell. Instead of worrying about sweat stains, Gakuran gives off a ferocious stench. It smells like a dry rag left in the shade for a week after wiping plenty of milk. Wakiga has no breaks. The thick cloth, Gakuran, has bad breathability, so I rather sweat. The sweat that has no place to escape evaporates, and the inner and Y-shirts function as a two-layer filter to filter, and high-purity wakiga extract is caught by the outer Gakuran fabric. In addition, winter drying causes bacteria to grow. The occurrence of violent stench is inevitable.

Besides, Gakuran doesn't wash so often. When I returned from school, I used water and detergent only on the side of the school run to wash my hands. It's something I'll wear the next day, so I can't just give it a fair sun. I have to dry it by morning. Therefore, after washing with water, I kept the dryer in the washroom for 2-3 hours. Finally, between the dryer and the cloth, it clicks! And when the blue lightning like Cherenkov light ran, I thought I had gone as far as possible. However, the effort was not rewarded, and the next day, the smell of detergent was added to the above-mentioned bad odor, which made people around him uncomfortable.

I decided to have an operation after having troubled myself to the point of mental collapse. Human relations are reset during the spring break after graduating from high school. I thought it would be the only time to do it. At the clinic in Ikebukuro, which is a comprehensive department store of plastic surgery, laser hair removal, chin excision, nasal prosthesis placement, silicone boobs, and almost anything related to beauty, shame the waiting room crowded by model-like sisters Shinobu jumped in. I made an appointment for the surgery day at the first visit without consulting my parents. My mother was an old man who never allowed me to put a scalpel on my parent's body. I have never confessed about wakiga's worries. However, I wonder if I secretly knew what I was doing, and when I showed him the invoice, he transferred nearly 200,000 yen without saying anything.

On the day of the operation, in the operating room of Norinori, where club music was played, the operation proceeded by a young teacher with a chara allback and a nurse in a pink nurse outfit sold at Don Quixote. Since I had a partial anesthesia, my teacher asked me about some wakiga while he was cutting the apocrine gland. It was my first time to confess to another person at this time, but it was easy to talk with a light teacher, so when I started talking, I could not stop. I felt comfortable as I was talking, and I had no surgery, so it seemed silly that I was worried about death. Sunny, I got the long-cherished odorless armpit that would not drop a single drop of side sweat even in midsummer. I suffered from complete numbness around the armpit and some numbness, leaving scars like swelling of the earthworm, but it does not hurt my life.

Having suffered for as long as you die can turn you over to what you love as you die. Shigeru Mizuki, the famous author of the manga "GeGeGe no Kitaro", lost one arm in Rabaul, the destination of the war in the previous war, and returned to life after nine deaths. Since the arrival of peace after the war, he has loved the land of the once-threatening Rabaul and has visited it more than 10 times. It's annoying to cite it, but about two years after I got an odorless wakiga, I fell in love with the wakiga that would have afflicted me once. To be precise, the smell of the armpits of women began to become extraordinarily excited.

When I was twenty, I miraculously had a girlfriend (probably kanako) and abandoned her virginity. Strictly not her, she is a woman who has sex. Not a sex friend. There is nothing to communicate with each other other than sex. It was like a human masturbation product where you would go back to TSUTAYA to return to the DVD and go home with a rusty mama-chari on the brakes when you went out to meet each other. To that proof, kanako appeared before me without much makeup. Even rice has never been eaten together. I don't mind this, I'll let you do it every time, and I thought I didn't have to worry about it.

More than a year after having sex for the first time, and when I don't know how many times I had sex, it's not uncommon to have a fellatio even when I have a fellatio. In such a case, I closed my eyes and said in my head, "The woman who is sucking now is Chun-Li, Chun-Li, Chun-Li, Chun-Li..." There are times when you look at it when you open it, fold up the newspaper, and raise your heavy waist, which can make you feel better, but it also becomes less useful.

One day, when sex was downgraded to act equivalent to dungeon and brushing teeth, one day when I went to kanako's room, I was wearing a sleeveless leopard dress like a primitive man's control and folding laundry. I was struck by the appearance of life and shabbyness. It is said that her husband got it in arcade. Thinking that I should go home and do wii's Zelda legend, I knew something instinctively when Kanako reached out to take Kabuki or take something from the shelf. Then, suddenly, I stopped looking at the mobile phone and turned my gaze to kanako. I stood up quickly. The armpit of Kanako who looked into suddenly had a little hair under her hair because of her daily laziness. I stay as it is! Yelled. Then, he approached and fixed the bottle-bottom glasses that were slipping down, and looked at it a little... seriously. In me, the sound of the earth started to sound. I took kanako's arm and opened her arm full. I desperately restrained my trembling arm to close it immediately. I had been overlooked until now. How beautiful...! Suddenly, the humidity was suddenly released. It was like a breath of spring under a cherry tree in full bloom. Kanako who shook Kabuki on the floor and trembled suddenly.... It's a revolution! Magma overflowed with a terrible explosion. For the first time in over a month, I slammed my One Piece and threw it on a futon with my princess hugging, holding my kana child hall violently. Hugged, sniffed, sniffed, hugged. While sticking from behind, I put my finger under my sweaty armpit and sniffed it. While covering from the top, the face armpits that made me live, buried my face under my armpit, licked Peron Peron, and screamed on my tongue were the drugs themselves. That night, as if I met him for the first time, he got crazy again and again. No, I didn't have time to wither. Even though I'm a woman who can eat Katsu-don while turning the TV channel, even if my boobs are blown out in front of me!

From that day on, waki became cheese-in-hamburger and kana became like parsley in me. On weekdays, if you can't smell under your armpit for a while, it becomes like a withdrawal symptom. Oh, I want to sniff and lick my armpit quickly. I want to see Wakiko. I'm almost suffocated! After opening the door of kanako's apartment for the first time in a week, it was as if a mid-distance runner had run 400m, and immediately, while being held by a coach, he was able to apply an oxygen respirator and breathe into his armpits with all his might. .. I was alive again, and my tears overflowed. Kanako was not a so-called wakiga, but when she sucked her nose against it, it smelled of a strange rotten smell. When I took a deep deep breath, the odor filled my lungs, and got into the bloodstream, my brain was stained pink.

At first, kanako showed a real dislike of being able to see and smell her armpit hair, and looked down at me with awake eyes while her face was buried. I couldn't respond even if I asked by mouth, so I had no choice but to take violent measures like rape. However, apparently it seems that this is a real pervert, or it is due to familiarity, I have obeyed obediently. In the middle of the foreplay, when I quickly sensed that I couldn't get up today with the intuition of a woman, I started to open myself. There may have been a case where he should get erected early in order to avoid the slight shock of not getting erected. My interest and demand for armpits increased day by day. By the way, kanako is a mixed race from Naha, it's a public image as if it's completely open, I'm one year older, sexual role is S, I'm M stakeout piston cowgirl (with me. It was a classic course to get fucked by the second joint of (Anal finger insertion). However, as for the armpits, I will be reversed to S, and kanako will be reversed to M (probably unwilling). Then I was instructed not to shave my armpit hair. The day before I met, I was instructed to never wash my armpits. I think kanako was horrible and obeyed because my eyes were so serious. I was surprised that I had the ability to train an older woman according to my taste. In the summer evening, kanako got into the doorstep of my house after she finished her tele-apo job, and I walked over and forced Kanako's frightened shirt off and banzai, walking from the station and still sweating. I caught the stuffy underarms that didn't pull, sticking like Tuchu Chupa Chupa, like an alien larva, and, as it was, poked into the back at the entrance. I'm already like a mother, I'm farting in front of people in public, there is a rubber mark on my pants on my stomach, I wake the kettle for the time being to get up, make a snorkel like an old man, It smells like a dungeon stewed overnight over low heat, soaks into the bar until late every night, and you're fishing for a man that you can choose, a woman like a rainy weekly playboy who can't stir up excitement. Against! Was it because I owned this woman that I had such a painful surgery for Wakiga?

It's funny, I think my thoughts were understood, kana grew up. When I was sniffed at my side and got licked, I got excited, my secret meat drooped like squid smoked, and the surrounding area was soaking wet with a soil-colored manko with perennial millet. In the end, I was messing with myself, and I licked it and even showed off my sides. But even beside that special presence, I wasn't excited for about three months, then I didn't see kanako, and I went into a long, long second virgin. I don't think human beings without human beings are endless. (In the news of the wind, kanako heard that five years ago, she was drunk and crossing the street, and was killed by a taxi. There was an idiot.)

Even now, even if I am just sleeveless, even an aunt in my 50's will come awkward, I will like girls who have a light smell on the side, and even if I see the word "woman's armpit" If not, the preheat mode will be turned on lightly. What was that talking about? Yeah, I was talking about my own armpit.

By the way, I had a surgery for wakiga, and I thought that I could live a life that was free from those worries. Apocrine gland (in my opinion, Moomin's Nyoronyoro) slowly revived over the course of about five years. I wondered if it would ever be removed again, so I grew up thicker, stronger and stronger than before. At the same time, the sensation of the paralyzed skin and the armpit hair that was partly shaved were restored with the same foot. The smell was stronger than before, staying in one place, and when I got lost in the forest, I went back by following the humbling silver fly. It was

Fortunately, however, science and technology have evolved over the last few years, and companies have found that antiperspirants are much more effective than they were in their teens. In the past, the only concept was to disguise it by applying a strong scent to the wakiga, but the mainstream was to remove the odor itself, such as the power of silver. Thanks to that, I was able to reduce the odor for about 8 hours during the daytime. If it smelled at the time limit during the drinking party, I should have done it like Cinderella. However, the effect seems to be effective only for the smell sensed by the nasal cavity, and it seems that the fine particles of the poison of Wakiga do not disappear. The crazy coughing around me was the same as before. But since it doesn't smell, the source couldn't be identified... In this way, I was able to live a group life in my late twenties and early thirties, without cheating or cheating, without being disliked by the open arms.

And last month, after I had been smoking cigarettes for the first time in my life, the smell became stronger. The deodorant stone, which is said to be the strongest in removing odors, doesn't work anymore. During the delivery of Uber Eats, I am waking up Wakiga to Max, while I am traveling around the crowded city, McDonald's, and each customer's house, so it is close to terrorism (only when delivering a kebab ).

But, as I said at the beginning, I don't really worry about my wakiga suffering from others. This is because the way of thinking has changed in the last few years. Let's go wakiga! I think positively. There was no need to worry and shame. If you think about it, I've done something awkward on my body. Putting a scalpel on the armpit and removing the apocrine gland is like a hedgehog squeezing all of the body's body. It's like giraffe getting surgery and shortening his neck.

The personal characteristics of the human body are always meaningful, no matter how negative they seem. Thanks to that feature, we have survived a severe competition for thousands and tens of thousands of years. In my case, I am today because I have inherited armpits for thousands of years and raised armpits. This odor is a height of art that has been honed and reached over tens of thousands of years of incredible time. If Wakiga was disliked in some generation and the apocryline was removed with a stone ax, my bloodline would have been cut off immediately. Besides, illusory is not ill, unlike illness. When a person is born, it is an Amazon-only initial purchase bonus ability that is provided as a given thing. I was convinced that the apocrine glands, which were still growing after inserting a female, had a tremendous necessity for my survival. To be honest, I'm sorry to do that.

There is absolutely no universal value. It just happens that a particular group of island nations in the Far East today are not accepting wakiga. It was swayed by a crowded train every morning, pushed into a small room all day long, absolutely obeyed the above command, and faced with the same human for a long time, which brought about the prosperity of the nation. Over a period of time, too much body odor was unpleasant. On the contrary, welcome conditions...Ikemen, high height, small face, slender, leg length etc. artificially created by Dentsu etc. as a value standard suitable for making people obedient and comfortable living in a group. People just take things and believe in them. What a person likes and dislikes is just one of the biased ideas of the myriad of options. The ability that is really necessary for an individual to survive is not something that others can arbitrarily decide. It shouldn't be easy to decide. You should listen to the voices of your ancestors who have survived the fierce competition for survival in your body.

As you can see, I always use the FANZA sample to make me squeeze in my female armpit licking video. In other words, I want to combine my own wakiga gene with the female wakiga gene to leave a species with a stronger wakiga for future generations. Instinct, not reason, encourages that. In other words, the will of the universe. Denying Wakiga is synonymous with going against God.

Indeed, Wakiga will ward off people with its unpleasant odor. But is it bad to keep people away or to be lonely?

no. Solitude is also a necessary condition for humans to survive.

What is the best preventive measure against today's raging coronavirus?

So far, you already know.

Humankind has been exposed to epidemics every few hundred years.

In today's information society, social distance is considered to be the best, and is transmitted to people. But what did humanity do before inventing letters and words?

There was no choice but to let the epidemic spread.

The distance between people was extremely high, and the mammoth BBQ way-way Leah was infected and died.

Meanwhile, there are some who have escaped the infection. It's the caveman who is always alone in a cave in the mountains, our progenitor, Wakiga.

Since ancient times, the Wakiga people have realized a social distance, whether they like it or not, by keeping people away with its unpleasant odor. And by being lonely, he has survived the epidemic of repeated plagues.

With the above, I tell Yukipoyo-like little girls.

What's important about after-corona is not good-looking, tall, small face, slender, or tall, nor do you have a hairstyle like a Korean-style idol and make a fool of way at Kawahara BBQ! Such is the illusion created by the ill-advised Adman, who forces Hakuhodo's two-block black-rimmed glasses, who extort the sense of being a Hinadan entertainer. They will eventually wipe out the green bubbles from their mouths and die crazy.

It's only wakiga, loneliness, that is, a man like me, that you should make your uterus squirm. If you were saying "I'm serious, but w" like you were at a convenience store, you're sure to be destined to regret it!

And one more important thing.

If any of your daughters had an underarm odor, please don't feel embarrassed. I don't want to apply deonature. I don't want a scalpel. It's worth more than Chanel's crap. Also, please do not shave your armpit hair. Because it is as beautiful as the wings of an angel.

Also, if you don't mind, please let my uncle lick the armpits. Ehe. I hope you squeeze it by pinching it on the side where the hair grows. Ehehe.

Thank you for your consideration.

[mannatea]

Not That Deep: A Psycho Pass Critique

This post is not spoiler-free, and is the result of multiple rewatches over the span of five years. If you remember any of my old Psycho Pass meta, please toss it straight into the garbage. I swear I’m better at conveying my thoughts now. (Joke’s on you if you think I’ve learned to condense my posts, though.)

Disclaimer: all opinions expressed within this post are mine and do not necessarily reflect the thoughts and opinions of my followers or friends. I welcome discussion/debate.

Psycho Pass (abbreviated to PP for simplicity’s sake from this point forward) is an anime in that very specific genre that belongs to societies that are portrayed as Utopian but aren’t. For the record, the setting can’t really be described as ‘dystopian’ or ‘futuristic hellscape’ either. The series calls itself “cyberpunk.”

In the year 2112, Japan has closed itself off from the world and implemented the Sibyl System: a judgment oracle. Citizens of the country are monitored by the system and have a “psycho-pass” assigned to them. This “psycho-pass” measures their stress levels, brain activity, and potential to commit a crime. When a person’s crime coefficient (CC) exceeds 100, they are considered a latent criminal and put into isolation to receive mandatory therapy. If they do not recover, they remain in isolation. The story follows the main character, Tsunemori Akane, as she joins the series’ version of a police force.

Trigger warnings for this series include gore, violence (sexual, emotional, physical), and an obscene amount of philosophy.

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Again, below the readmore/cut will be spoilers.

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Worldbuilding/Craft

I feel like it’s important to get into the meat of the discussion as quickly as possible with this series, especially considering the title of this post: Not That Deep.

I’m not going to bother ‘rating’ the different facets/aspects of the show because I don’t think it’s necessary, and this isn’t really a review so much as a discussion/critique. Either you liked the series or you didn’t. If you’re reading this you either have an open mind or you want to get angry, and both reasons are at least a little valid.

PP is a series that REALLY wants to be deep, but falls flat in almost every conceivable way. I’m saying this as someone who enjoyed it enough to write fanfiction about it the last time I watched it, and who not only recommended it to multiple friends, but screenshared the entire series with one recently so that she could see it.

I think the general concept of Sibyl and Akane’s futuristic society is presented in a digestible way. I appreciate the attempts to integrate cool future tech into the show, but I’m especially impressed by the way they go about it. It’s all stuff that your average person living right now would adopt and use regularly if given a chance (auto driven cars, drones, AI secretaries, holo clothes/outfits). Without those specific scenes, I feel like the worldbuilding would almost collapse in on itself; these little details made it easy to imagine living in the world, and gave a little personality to the characters as they made use of them—like little glimpses into their personal taste.

It also helped to take the focus and pressure off of the less-nice aspects of the Sibyl System. No wonder people are generally pretty happy/content in this world: they can wear sweatpants and just holo something else over it! (Sign me up!)

Unfortunately the worldbuilding beyond that isn’t great, but I also don’t think it’s fair to say that it’s bad. It’s just...kind of mediocre...while still managing, at least for the first season, to feel coherent.

We have hues and crime-coefficients. They are not the same thing, but they might as well be because one isn’t bad without the other being bad: EVER. Ginoza’s CC rises as his hue darkens throughout S1. Togane’s hue is black and he has the highest CC on record. Makishima’s hue is clear and his CC is 0 (when he wills it to be). What’s the point of having both, then? Is it just for a fun color-coding system? It’s never explained in any way that makes sense. The one character likely to have a high CC and a clear hue is Makishima (a sociopath), but he has both a clear hue and a low CC. (Kamui is another anomaly, but he can’t be measured at all, so he doesn’t really fit into this specific discussion.) Basically, having hues and CCs both exist just feels a little bit too much like “it sounded cool so we included it” instead of: “These both serve serious purposes in the world.” They want really bad to fling philosophy at the viewers, but seem to neglect this really large aspect of the world where it would be perfect to latch on.

Technology is advanced to the point of having cybernetic arms that function effortlessly and people can almost achieve full cybernization if they have the money/will to. Kamui was 184 people stitched together lol... And yet Akane has just one living grandparent (who apparently can’t even move on her own). I’m not really put off by this, but you’d think the technology/health debate would be a much bigger part of the story beyond the news broadcast that was shown.

I think the biggest niggling little worldbuilding issue is the fact that the implementation of Sibyl happened ~20 years ago. I like the detail for what it gives us for some characters (Masaoka and Ginoza specifically), but I find it mostly implausible. Maybe it was fully implemented 20 years ago, but the framework was another 20 years in the making. It just doesn’t work otherwise. The second it was implemented families would have been shattered and that shattering would have put even more people into isolation due to their CC rising. I mean, if someone took my 5-year-old away from me, I’d be in isolation REAL QUICK, ‘cause that’s the kind of trauma you don’t just Get Over or Move Past.

Speaking of five-year-olds, in the boarding school episodes, they mention a law that protected minors, which feels out of place because Kagari was not protected by that law...which means it couldn’t have been around very long in the first place. If the scanners can flag a 5-year-old child and take him away from his parents, high school students aren’t exempt either. The mention of the law would have been a nice touch if it had only recently been appealed/removed, but it was only around for a few years ~20 years ago, so it feels awkwardly placed/silly.

Again, not everything worldbuilding/craft-related is bad. Like I said earlier, the world in general feels pretty cohesive and the characters belong there. The issues mostly sit with the fact that they tried to include a lot of ‘neat’ or ‘dramatic’ (or even ‘dark’) things...without stopping to consider if they actually fit within the narrative they were trying to construct.

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Plot/Storylines

This is where the series shines. Or at least, this is probably the strongest point in PP’s favor.

The biggest criticism I have: it doesn’t actually do anything new and exciting.

That said, I don’t think every bit of media out there needs to flip the script to be enjoyed, and I liked PP just fine for what it was.

Season One was definitely stronger in this department than later material.  What made S1 feel strong was having enough time to actually move the plot along while also developing the characters. S2 was comparatively rushed and had a lot of really unnecessary plotlines and gore. The movie was...eh, but I think it was an improvement over S2. (I haven’t seen Sinners of the System yet, so I can’t comment on those installments.)

I can find fault with a lot of S1 stuff, but for the most part I think it did a pretty good job and any faults I’d bother to point out would just be me nitpicking. The storylines melded into one another, everything was connected, et cetera. Unfortunately this comes at the cost of character relationships/development, but I’ll talk about that later. Besides, I’d rather have a cohesive series than not, so this isn’t exactly a criticism so much as an observation. The production team(s) did an excellent job of making the most of the screentime they had to work with.

S2 feels flawed almost from the start. Rather than build off of what we already learned in S1 and further develop the characters, it chose to rush headlong into a half-assed plot featuring an unbelievable antagonist. Yikes. I think it brought up an interesting question in “WC?” but instead of striking a believable balance they really just made an antagonist who was 184 people’s bodies stitched together. I can’t get over how stupid that was. Honestly, it was straight-up foolish of the writers to go through with that concept. Makishima might have been a pretentious pile of shit, but at least he felt like a human being. Kamui as a concept was just too overblown to work.

Also working against S2 was Togane. That whole plotline was completely unnecessary and throwing Akane’s grandmother under a bus on top of that was just the icing on the idiot cake. S2 was the Break the Cutie trope tenfold, but there was no danger and therefore no sense of urgency or fear. It was just gross for the sake of being gross, which was disappointing. I’m not saying that Togane isn’t the type of person to beat a crippled old lady to death, because he is, but I also never thought he was an idiot, and the progression of his attempts to blacken her hue jumped straight to the moon instead of progressing at a pace that felt more natural/reasonable. If the guy hasn’t been eliminated by an inspector after blackening many of their hues, he’s not the kind of dope to take silly risks. He could have tried any number of things to ruin Akane that didn’t involve her poor old granny (who had no real screentime and whom the audience had no connection with anyway).

S2 also gave us Ginoza doubting Akane’s sanity early on (acting like she might have written WC on her own wall), which not only feels incredibly out of character for S2 Ginoza, but never amounts to anything/goes anywhere anyway.

Hungry Chicken was an interesting touch, but SO MANY PEOPLE DIED that its impact was diminished. Division 3 had such a non-appearance in the series anyway that them being there at all just felt stupid without more lead-up.

For what it’s worth, I don’t think S2 is irredeemable, but I feel like it missed the mark consistently from start to finish. A shame, because the concept of a ‘plural’ psycho-pass might have been nifty if, say, Kamui was made up of 5 or 6 people’s bodies. Then the holos would feel meaningful. Then each ‘part’ of him would feel like a different person with different feelings and motives and skills. 

Anyway, I think S2 muddied the waters too much with Kamui and the body doubles and Shisui all that nonsense, too. At a certain point if your plot gets too complex, especially with overblown concepts thrown into the mix, it just feels silly. That’s basically what happened to S2.

Again, S1 wasn’t perfect. Makishima was exhaustingly boring. Cool, so you can quote a bunch of crap you’ve read. Great. So can I. Who are you as a person, though? That Guy in my Philosophy 101 class who argued with the professor? Yeah, I could picture that! 

People love waxing poetic about how amazing an antagonist Makishima was, but the dude was a hollow shell quoting things other people said 100+ years ago. It felt like he didn’t even have his own thoughts, and as far as I saw, there weren’t even any fake philosophers mixed in with the rest to make us feel a little extra immersed in the world (and/or give us another philosophical spin on the situation).

Hey, maybe that was the point, but I’ve never seen that criticism leveled fully at the character/plot in general, so here we are.

It was just too heavy-handed. By the end of the series I wanted him dead just so I could stop listening to his mini-lectures.

Still, it may as well have been amazing compared to 184-People-Stitched-Together being the main antagonist. 

I think the movie jumped in face-first and was perhaps a little too...all over the place? But I didn’t have to endure 184 people as a single person, or ears in boxes, so... I consider it a win.

The bitter reality when it comes to Psycho Pass and the plot is that...the plot is its greatest strength, but it’s Not That Deep...even though you can tell that it’s consistently trying to be. Oof.

I think if they’d shot for something less complex, especially in S2, they’d have at least met their goals of depth/consistency. Instead what we ended up with was having a fairly decent plot devolve into one of the worst second seasons I’ve seen.

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Characters & Character Development

For such a small cast, I think PP did a pretty piss-poor job with most of their characters, but the series as a general rule is so plot-heavy that it’s not really surprising.

I can’t help but expect a lot from a series that only has a few ‘main’ characters. In this case, Akane is the Big Main Character, and is flanked by Kogami and Ginoza. In S1, there was a decent balance (with Masaoka and Kagari thrown in). In S2, it was mostly just Akane and The Bad Guys, which would be fine if the plot was incredible, or The Bad Guys were super duper interesting, but as discussed previously, the plot was akin to liquid cat barf and the characters weren’t treated much better. It was a little insulting to be handed characters who could be really fun in the right hands (literally everyone) only to see them used as plot vehicles/hallucinations/memory thoughts. Kogami randomly appearing for long boring scenes wasn’t fun or cool; it was uninspired. It’d be way cooler if it was for five seconds and felt like a...memory, almost...a passing thought. For more screentime, it could even happen more often. But no, it’s gotta be like two minutes long. 

How about the scene where Saiga talks to Koichi who just keeps turning into Kamui and he talks for like five straight minutes? UGH. Is this supposed to feel deep and meaningful? It doesn’t.

Shion sleeps with Yayoi so she can monologue plot things while Yayoi is getting dressed. Can I add that Yayoi doesn’t matter at all at any point, and Shion conveniently can do anything that needs to be done because Reasons?

Togane isn’t around long enough to feel like a worthwhile villain. Nobody cares about Shisui because we honestly don’t even know who she is! Oh, were we supposed to feel bad for Division 3? We’re supposed to feel gross about Akane’s grandmother but the writers took one line in S1 and used that to try and break the character (while also knowing full well it wouldn’t have any effect on her). Let’s not forget Mika, who is remembered as being incredibly annoying...while everyone forgets/doesn’t notice that she’s the student from the boarding school who didn’t die (and we never see her outside of work doing her own thing, which adds to her just being a pain).

Ginoza seems a little like he’s supposed to fill a spot his father left, but he doesn’t, and he’s pushed to the background to...not really do anything of import. Hinakawa is a worthless character who exists just for one plot-specific purpose. Saiga exists so that more dialogue can happen and not seem too out of place.

I’m not saying the character writing overall is trash, but it definitely ain’t good, and I think S2 is where it really struggled. S1 gave us a really interesting character in Kogami. Akane was learning and struggling to fit in at work and do things well, which was somewhat relatable. Ginoza was struggling with his mental health throughout the entire first season and had a lot of character development. But then S2 happens and the development kind of...stopped? Akane didn’t seem to really learn much because she was too busy always being right? Kogami noped out of Japan so I didn’t expect anything with him specifically, but why couldn’t Yayoi have moved into the limelight? Shion? One of the new guys? ANYONE?

Don’t get me wrong. I still have characters I like, and I can see potential in the others. I just wish I was seeing more than potential is all, especially with characters like Yayoi that have been around from Day1 and still haven’t really done anything noteworthy.

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General Criticisms/Other Thoughts

There’s a lot of shock-value violence (SVV). I guess you could say I ‘get’ the purpose of it, but there’s literally no reason that helmeted person couldn’t have beat a man to death with a hammer instead of a woman, especially considering that we have to see Spooky Boogie’s corpse looking grotesque and plenty of other crimes against women.

I feel like S2 was especially guilty of SVV, but it existed in S1, too, pretty much to the point that it started to anger me. It might not have bothered me as much if some of the violent acts were cases that stood alone, but they were all linked to the main plot and that somehow seemed to make it worse.

I also wasn’t a fan of Akane constantly being naked/near naked, of Yuki being in her underwear/negligée, of every crime against a woman ending up with a woman’s clothes being removed, and (the list goes on). One of these things? I might be able to overlook. All of them? Come on. Don’t pretend these creators weren’t doing this for their own purpose.

(I know the scene with Aoyanagi gave us the men getting undressed too [This is your natural self!], but then they showed her with all these action scenes, legs spread wide open, coordinated lacy undies/bra... C’MON. All the butt-shots of Professor Saiga and Kogami don’t make up for this or cancel it out. I KNOW WHAT YOU GUYS ARE DOING AND I DO NOT LIKE IT.)

The music was mediocre but acceptable/fitting. 

The animation is nice. 

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Overall

This isn’t a series I’d recommend to just anyone. It has a lot of issues, and they range from being petty annoyances to straight up offensive. If you can ignore the misogynistic undertones and general lack of consistent attention to the characters, there’s a decently interesting plot waiting for you.

Unfortunately the series just feels...lacking, in the end. There is a S3 coming out (apparently featuring other characters), so the creators aren’t done playing in this world. Maybe S3 will fix some of the consistency issues?

I’ve seen a lot of people make comments about Psycho Pass being a ‘genius’ work, ignored by the general public despite its godliness. I agree that it doesn’t get the attention you’d expect a series of this caliber (nice animation, decent soundtrack, likable main female character who isn’t some moeblob) to have, but I think I hit upon all the reasons it’s not everyone’s cuppa in the first place...and while it is open for fanfiction and so on, the lack of attention to the characters by the series itself makes it less likely to appeal to the sort of people who write fanfiction. So there you have it: a pretty decent, mostly coherent series that’s terribly violent and misogynistic. Definitely not everyone’s cup of tea, but worth a watch if you can get past those pesky negatives.