#the ONLY things setting them back from breaking out are their components trying to up and split

[apocalyptic-dancehall]

here's a concept for a fusion thing ig.. they're completely batshit and exist only to annoy the everloving hell out of the jack pack

[nanowrimo]

Beyond the Word Count: A Book Editor's Guide to Writing a First Draft

Every year, we’re lucky to have great sponsors for our nonprofit events. First Draft Pro, a 2023 NaNoWriMo sponsor, is a beautifully designed writing app for fiction writers. Today, they've partnered with Kelly Norwood-Young, former book editor for Pan Macmillan and Penguin Random House, to bring you some pro tips on writing your first draft:

In my career as a book editor, I’ve reviewed hundreds of manuscripts. I've seen the joy of authors creating compelling tales, but also how disheartening it can be to rewrite a disjointed story. I’m here to give you some strategies to address common pitfalls so that you not only reach your NaNoWriMo goal, but also lay the groundwork for a manuscript that truly deserves to be called a gripping novel.

1. Have a plan.

Even if you’re more of a ‘pantser’ than a ‘planner’, it's really helpful to have an outline. I have two favourite approaches for this: the structure-first approach, and what I call the ‘Phoebe Waller-Bridge approach’.  

The structure-first approach

There are a lot of narrative frameworks for story structure, but the most foundational in Western fiction is the three-act structure. Here’s a handy guide that breaks each of the classical three acts into a day-by-day guide to NaNoWriMo: 

8-day guide to Act 1

14-day guide to Act 2

8-day guide to Act 3

The Phoebe Waller-Bridge approach

I love this quote from Phoebe Waller-Bridge: ‘I’ve never thought structure first. I’ve always thought material first, jokes first, character first ... But knowing the end really helps. Then you just go as far away from the end emotionally as you possibly can.’  

Sketch out your major story arcs, your character’s desires and conflicts, and the world they inhabit. The more you know your story's world and inhabitants, the less you'll stray into scenes that lack purpose or create plot and character inconsistencies. 

2. Keep the story moving.

Each word needs to propel your story forward. Superfluous details or tangents that don’t serve the narrative stall the momentum you’re trying to generate for your reader. 

There’s a trick you can use to move your story forward, called the question of reversibility. Ask yourself: How difficult would it be for my character to reverse their decision? The harder it would be for them to turn back, the more you’ve moved the plot forward. 

3. Plant clues carefully.

Plant important elements early and make sure every element, however subtle, serves a purpose (i.e. Chekhov’s Gun). 

Be sure to set up necessary components for your climax so that you can steer clear of Deus ex Machina (having that strong outline will help you here), and avoid red herrings unless they serve a clear, meaningful purpose (e.g. you’re writing a mystery and your readers expect some false leads). Misleading your readers without a payoff can erode their trust.

4. Write for the reader, not yourself.

‘There is only one thing you write for yourself, and that is a shopping list,’ insists Umberto Eco in On Literature. Even if writing, for you, is a therapeutic outlet, a form of self-expression, or a way to leave a legacy, you’re still writing to say something to someone else. Your story simply won’t be as strong if you forget your reader’s perspective. 

5. Keep daily editorial notes for your future self.

While editing should wait until at least December, end each day with a brief reflection, noting any off-course deviations, potential inconsistencies, areas to research further, or moments of inspiration to revisit when you start editing. 

These daily notes will be invaluable during the editing process, helping you to remember insights that are no longer fresh when you come back to the manuscript later.

6. Embrace the first-draft mentality.

There’s a lot you can do to ensure that your first draft is the best it can be before the end of November—but just as important is to understand that all first drafts have flaws.

As a book editor, I've witnessed manuscripts transform, sometimes unrecognizably, from their first drafts. Embrace the uncertainty and creative detours—because it's from this beautiful chaos that your story will find its true voice. 

Kelly Norwood-Young is a seasoned book editor and proofreader with comprehensive experience across various facets of manuscript editing. Her background includes roles at Pan Macmillan and Penguin Books, extending into a successful freelance career working with award-winning authors. Kelly's work, known for its precision and sensitivity to the author's voice, has been integral to the success of both new and established writers globally.

Try out First Draft Pro: All NaNoWriMo participants can use the discount code NANOWRIMO2023 for 20% off a premium subscription to First Draft Pro! Offer expires January 31, 2024.

[princesskenny1998]

Ghostbusters | Trevor Spengler x f!goth!reader ~ Black Lipstick

The soft hum of the firehouse vibrated in the background as you sat on the edge of Trevor's bed, legs crossed and fingers absentmindedly fiddling with the hem of your skirt. It was a slow afternoon, something rare in a place like this. You'd gotten used to the constant activity, but for now, it was just you and Trevor Spengler, your boyfriend, hanging out in the quiet lull.

You glanced over at him as he worked on some old proton pack components, his hands deftly twisting wires together with the kind of precision that made your heart skip a beat. There was something so endearing about the way Trevor’s brow furrowed in concentration. He hadn’t noticed you staring, too absorbed in his work, but it only made you smile more.

“You know,” you said, breaking the silence, “you look pretty cute when you’re all focused like that.”

Trevor looked up, startled, his ears turning a shade of pink. He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, uh, thanks. I was just... I mean, I wasn’t really—”

You leaned over and cut him off by pressing your lips to his, your hand brushing lightly against his jawline. He tensed up for a second before melting into the kiss, his hands slipping from the pack to rest on your waist. You had always been the bolder one between the two of you, and it never failed to catch him off guard. You couldn’t help but enjoy that little flutter of excitement that spread through you whenever you kissed him, especially knowing how it always left him flustered.

As you deepened the kiss, you became fully aware of the fact that your black lipstick was probably leaving stains all over him. Not that you cared. You never left the house without your signature look—black lipstick, heavy eyeliner, the works. And while Trevor had never said it out loud, you could tell he liked it. He always smiled a little too much whenever your lips met his.

But just as the kiss was starting to heat up, the unmistakable blare of the ghost alarm went off, causing Trevor to jump back in surprise. The loud siren echoed through the firehouse, filling every crevice with urgency.

“Dammit,” Trevor muttered under his breath, standing up quickly and glancing around as if the situation would disappear if he just ignored it for a moment longer. “I, uh... I’ve got to go. Again.”

You stood up, trying to suppress a laugh as you watched him scramble around, trying to collect his things. “Hey, it’s fine. Go save the day, Spengler. Just try not to let any ghosts slime you today.”

He shot you an exasperated look, but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks. I’ll see you after, okay?”

Before you could respond, Trevor was already rushing away, leaving you alone with the remnants of your kiss lingering in the air. You settled back onto the bed, amused by the chaotic nature of your relationship. It wasn’t every day you dated a ghostbuster, after all.

Meanwhile, Trevor was in full panic mode as he ran toward the car. His mom, Callie, and his sister, Phoebe, were already there, preparing the equipment for whatever supernatural event had set off the alarm this time. Gary, his unofficial step father, was also helping load the gear, all of them moving with the practiced urgency that came with the job.

“Trevor, hurry up!” Phoebe called, her voice stern as she tossed a proton pack into the backseat.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” he replied, hopping into the car just in time.

As they sped off toward the location of the disturbance, Callie glanced back at Trevor through the rearview mirror, raising an eyebrow. “Uh, Trevor, sweetie... you’ve got something on your face.”

He blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Gary, sitting in the passenger seat, snorted and turned around to face him, his eyes widening. “Dude, she’s not kidding. You’ve got lipstick all over your mouth. And... your cheek. And, uh, maybe a little on your neck?”

Trevor’s face flushed deep red as he fumbled for his phone to check his reflection. Sure enough, there were smudges of your black lipstick smeared across his lips, his cheek, and a faint mark on the side of his neck where you must’ve left a parting kiss.

“Oh, God,” Trevor groaned, rubbing at his face with the back of his hand. But no matter how much he wiped, the stains only seemed to smudge more, leaving him looking like some kind of goth clown.

Callie let out a light chuckle, shaking her head. “You two really need to learn how to clean up after yourselves.”

Phoebe, ever the deadpan one, stared at him from the backseat. “Are you sure you’re ready for this ghost hunt? Looks like Y/N almost finished you off before we even got here.”

Trevor’s ears were burning as he shot his sister a glare. “Okay, enough. It’s not that big of a deal.”

But Gary wasn’t letting it go. He leaned his head back against the seat, grinning like a cat that just caught a canary. “You know, I get it. There’s something about those goth girls. But Trev, you’re wearing her lipstick like a badge of honor.”

Trevor sank lower into his seat, cursing under his breath as he tried once more to wipe away the evidence of your kiss. This time, he pulled out a tissue and frantically dabbed at his face, but it only seemed to make things worse. The black pigment smeared even further, now blotching his skin with grayish streaks that only made the whole situation more ridiculous.

“Oh my God, why won’t it come off?” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.

Gary laughed again, the sound filling the car. “Dude, that’s the price you pay. At least she’s got a strong look going. Could’ve been worse.”

Trevor shot him a side-eye. “Worse how?”

“I don’t know,” Gary mused. “Like... hot pink? Neon green? Could’ve made you look like you just got attacked by a pack of highlighters.”

Phoebe rolled her eyes, and Callie simply shook her head, trying not to let the teasing derail them too much.

By the time they reached their destination, Trevor’s face was still a mess of smudged lipstick, and despite his best efforts, he had only managed to make things look worse. He sighed in defeat, resigning himself to the fact that he’d have to deal with the teasing for the rest of the day.

“Next time, I’m bringing makeup wipes,” he muttered under his breath as he grabbed his proton pack from the back of the car.

Phoebe, carrying her own gear, shot him a smirk. “Next time, maybe don’t kiss her right before a ghost hunt.”

“Shut up.”

Hours later, after the ghost alarm had been silenced and the situation under control, Trevor returned to the firehouse, exhausted but satisfied with how the day had turned out. His face was still marked with the remnants of your lipstick, but he didn’t even care at this point. All he could think about was getting back to you.

When he finally walked through the doors, you were still lounging on his bed, reading some old book you’d found in the firehouse library. You looked up when you heard him enter, a sly smile creeping onto your lips when you noticed the smudges still present on his face.

“You didn’t even try to clean that up, did you?” you teased, setting the book aside.

“I tried!” Trevor groaned, walking over to the bed and flopping down beside you. “But it just wouldn’t come off. And they all teased me about it the entire time.”

You bit back a laugh, reaching up to run your fingers along the faint stain still lingering on his cheek. “Aw, poor baby. Want me to help you clean it up?”

“Please,” he mumbled, leaning into your touch.

You grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and gently wiped at his skin, trying your best to remove the last traces of your lipstick. As you worked, Trevor watched you with a small, contented smile, his hand resting on your knee.

“Sorry about that,” you said after a while, glancing at him with a sheepish grin. “Didn’t mean to cause such a mess.”

Trevor chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t apologize. I liked it. Even if it did make things a little awkward.”

You smiled back at him, leaning down to place a soft kiss on his now-clean cheek. “Well, next time, maybe I’ll use a less permanent lipstick.”

He smirked, pulling you closer. “Or maybe next time, I won’t have to run off in the middle of making out.”

“Deal,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his.

As Trevor wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a heated kiss, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and happiness settle over you. Sure, dating a ghostbuster came with its challenges, but moments like these made it all worth it.

[war-father]

She feels the voice before she can even fully register hearing it, and the sound reverberates through her bones, stirring some dark recess of her soul into a frenzied fervor.

Trepidation growing with each step, she followed the low rumble across the courtyard to a classroom door, and the tones grew clearer, if still muffled behind the stone walls of the Academy.

It couldn't be, could it? Yet... the voice was unmistakable, and she remembered each of the god's final words clear as she had that day.

She couldn't fully tell how long she stood at the door, mind racing, listening to the voice from inside that she could recall echoing in much the same way across a massive cavern. It was only once the monastery bells sang out and students suddenly poured from the classroom was she snapped out of her reverie.

Then, a man stepped through the classroom doors, and suddenly the feelings inside her had rose to a fever pitch, pulling and pushing at her until she was unsure if she was to walk forward or to run away screaming.

He looked... human. Some rational part of her dimly reasoned that the appearance of a massive one-eyed dragon within the monastery would have caused some stir, especially after the events of the previous moons, but... was she mistaken? She tried to reconcile the decaying, twisted dragon from her memories with the man before her, strong and full of vitality, and she couldn't.

Still, she felt insignificant under his gaze, as if he was breaking her down to her base components and rebuilding her with just his gaze alone. Some desperate, animalistic part of her was howling, gibbering at her to get away from that stare, yet she couldn't help but look up at him, trying to read an expression that yielded no answers.

duma's first class of his life was tamer than expected. it does not surprise him that the one with authority is to be heeded regardless of where that authority is borne, but from the stories he has been told not all students are so willing to oblige. nonetheless, the moment duma ducked under the doorway and pulled his war-built frame inside the classroom, the moment he pounded his fist against the podium and demanded his class be silent, all eyes remained firmly on him, mouths zipped shut unless to ask a question. that is satisfactory.

he conveyed the information and his students listened. if one fell behind, it was not up to duma to replace what they had lost. the adversity of man can be so compact and minute as missing notes from a chapter, and to that the war father does not say a thing. strife has no particular setting.

it is after his class lets out that the trouble starts. at the back of his mind there is something amiss, but duma is too busy teaching to mind it. when the bells ring and his students stand, after he barks for them to leave uniformly, he leaves after the last and is suddenly hit with a wave of... something. drool slips down his chin as though confronted with the desire to eat, but what food is presented to him? he looks down and sees it: the scarlet hair first, then the soft, quilted features of the witch wrest from his clutches.

that confounded mila so loved the world and everything in it that she simply could not let duma have it. her love extended as far as his feet and no further; were he one of those that she adored, why would she take his things from him, when they were rightfully his? the woman celica---whose name was not such, the witch had told him through tears---belonged to him, but love had moved that sister of his to birth life anew. here she stands, a product of love, and there is nothing that makes duma sear from the inside out more than seeing her.

dragons have incredible self restraint; it is this fact that allows duma to not begin vomiting horrible, hungry snarls from deep deep within his chest. it is this fact that stops him from hunching over or gripping the doorway until it breaks, and it is such a good thing that he does not attempt to steal her soul anew because he is quite sure that would reveal things far before he'd ever wanted.

but that does not stop the wanting from showing entirely. his jaw trembles and saliva pools beneath his tongue. he stares with deeply burning eyes, down towards this soul that shall one day be his property again, and he hisses:

" back away from me. i have somewhere to be. "

[insipid-drivel]

Getting a new wheelchair! The XTSO M4

If you're wondering what model of power chair this is, it's this in the readmore:

Here's the website.

Here's my family friend's website with even more variety and options.

I'm brand new to wheelchairs and power chairs, but have recently invested in this one as my mobility has been an increasing issue as I'm getting older. A family friend of mine has MS and owns a wheelchair and powerchair company, and just recently went to a floor-show of new models in Miami, FL, and emailed me back with the XSTO M4 as a recommendation for my first chair.

These chairs are expensive. They may not be affordable for you. I'm only getting one because I know a guy who sells them and he's willing to help me out when it comes to the financials. However, if you're curious, shopping, or interested to know what kind of new tech is starting to be incorporated into electric wheelchairs, here are some product deets about the M4:

Comes with an automatic balance system, which balances out the seat even when I'm going uphill. This prevents the "I'm going to fall and hit my head" sensation if a slope is steep.

Can clear vertical obstacles of up to 2" vertically or 6" horizontally (such as rolling over grass between paving stones) , so if a city's infrastructure sucks for chair-bound people, I can at least brute-force to a sidewalk or park when necessary.

Can handle slopes of up to 15°

Breathable back and memory foam seat for no more Ass Sweat Prints on warm days.

Designed not to slip or skid on slippery surfaces or going up or downhill

Self-adjusts the seat to stay level even when on a slope so I don't tip over or fall off the chair. Also has a safety-wheel in the back so it can't be tipped backwards, either.

Travels up to 11 miles on a single charge

Has both "casual" (indoor) and "off-road" settings.

Can adjust the seat up or down up to 8" to Reach Things Better or Be More Visible To Traffic.

Has no rear handles for assholes to grab and try to move me around without permission.

Comes with an app (ugh I know) that makes my phone make an alert noise when the battery is low or a part or component is malfunctioning, gives me the ability to remotely control it to wheel it closer to me if it's out of reach and I can't walk to it (honestly a selling point for me; I never know when I'll have Bad Issues and need extra help), switch its modes from casual to sport mode, and make it fold/unfold for space.

Breaks into 3 separate parts for easier storage in the back of a car.

Goes up to ~4mph, which isn't bad for me, since my normal mph at home without a chair is 0.

Has a tight 32" turning radius courtesy of the front tires, making it good for moving around indoors too.

Seat reclines and has a small leg-rest for if I want to lean back.

The manufacturer recycles parts, so if something like the battery needs replacing, I can send the old part in and receive a new, replacement part for free.

Almost every feature covered by the app is also available on the LCD readout beside the joystick, so I don't need to use the app if I don't want to.

It doesn't look like I stole it from a retirement home or a WalMart.

[velvet-vox]

A needlessly over-complicated analysis on Doll's bathroom line.

<<<<Previous part (unnecessary)

I thought that, since I brought it up, I might as well analyze the one line from Doll that I tend to overlook the most, so that I can move on from it and forget about his existence again, since, quite frankly, I doubt that I'm going to bring it up again in the future, as I don't see any use for it outside of its context: it's just a silly, comedic line whose only other purpose is hide a minor incongruence in the story.

Final note: this is a serious analysis, but this line isn't meant to be taken seriously, so while I will try to look at it with analytical lenses and insert it into the slightly more serious larger picture of the show, I'm not going to pretend like that's something Liam Vickers ever expected anyone to do.

Once again, the lines in question are these:

...... It's a joke.

1: How did it slip under my radar for so long?

The first and major problem that I have with this line, and the reason why I ended up overlooking it for so long, is that it comes right after what is my favourite line of dialogue from Lizzy:

"Dude, no one will notice SHE is missing. Just do your thing, and I'll let in V. We'll see you there!"

As a Doll analyst, this line gives me A LOT to think about, it not only provides a lot of implied characterisation for both Doll and Lizzy alike, but it may also be the closest we get at understanding how deep their partnership truly went.

In fact, let's actually take a break from the Doll line and let's talk about this Lizzy one instead.

Why is Lizzy saying this line to Doll? The most obvious conclusion one may arrive at is that this line is a response that Lizzy is making to something Doll has said to her off screen. So, what did Doll say to get Lizzy to respond like that?

At first glance, it would seem that Doll was showing Lizzy concern for being caught by killing Uzi, after all, both Khan and the Teacher know that Uzi went at Doll's place to prepare for Prom, it would basically be impossible for the two of them to pass off as unaware. It would also perfectly line up with the picture of Doll that was built up to this point in the episode. But then... The rest of the episode actually happened.

So, Doll CLEARLY always intended to blow off her cover at the Prom, when she would finally kill V. Furthermore, Doll doesn't seem particularly concerned with chasing down Uzi, as her reaction to as they say in Russian whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of the ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs would entail.

So, why does Doll feel any form of concern over killing Uzi when she's yet unaware of the fact that Uzi is a Solver host? Could Doll have possibly... cared about Uzi before even knowing that she also shared her sickness? These are questions for another time.

Going back to the titular line of dialogue that started all of this, let's actually try to dissect the individual components of this pun to see if there's any new or weird information (aka implications, because that's all you ever get out of Doll) that we can extrapolate from it.

2: Over analysing the nothing.

(If you wish to know what rules for this analysis are... I don't really have any. Once again, I don't think anyone on the production team of this show was expecting people to take this line seriously, once again, this is a comedic line, and while I am going to sound serious in the following segment, most of the stuff I'm going to say can be chalked up to mere, yet fun, speculation.)

The scene starts with Uzi panicking at the mere sight of Doll's broken furniture, and then hearing footsteps coming closer to the bathroom's door. Having terrible feelings about what's about to happen, Uzi quickly pulls a Dream clutch and uses the mirrors inside the bathtub to reach the ventilation shaft above her head and escape from Doll's apartment.

After setting foot inside the bathroom and seeing what Uzi has been up to, Doll reacts by putting her mechanical hands on her sides and finally proclaiming the iconic line:

As they say in Russian...

"Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs."

Doll keeps staring at the moved out vent in the ceiling for a couple of seconds, with a dumbfounded yet pensive expression, then the scene ends.

Fun fact: this is the longest uninterrupted string of words that we ever see Doll formulate, as she's quite the quiet type.

Let's start our analysis by taking a look at the first phrase:

As they say in Russian...

Already, there's a question we could ask: who or what does "they" refer to?

It could probably be another "sentient" being by Worker Drones standards, as it's highly unlikely for there to exist a not-sentient object/machine that said the hyper specific line of "Whoops, I should've...." enough times or in such a memorable way for Doll to have it internalised as something "they" say.

Though remember, the Murder Drones universe is also extremely unserious by nature, so it's entirely possible for there to exist a preprogrammed machine that says this very specific lines in Russian.

I can totally imagine a shop alarm in the Murder Drones universe going like: "Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs." in Russian when someone steals something from the store. It's reasonable to assume that Doll inherited some money from her parents when they died, hence how she manages to pay taxes without getting a job (if Workers need to pay taxes at all), but I doubt she actually uses them to buy groceries and other stuff. I wouldn't put stealing past her.

Where was I? Oh right.

It can't be something. It has to be somebody.

But who?

The second part of the phrase that we have yet to discuss clues us in that whoever this somebody must be is capable of speaking "in Russian".

The word "Russian" actually makes a universe of difference, because if the actual sentence was "As they say in Russia..." like how I remembered it to be, the answer to the question "Who?" would be much more simple: Doll has never been to Earth, where Russia is, therefore, with this phrase she was actually referring to the Humans/Drones that inhabited Russia on that planet, and unless Doll has secretly had contact with a human/drone coming from that country in the past, she either must have gotten this information from another source, or she's making it up on the spot basing it on her preconceived assumptions.

But no, the line of dialogue is "As they say in Russian...", which is ten times more vague.

Keeping in mind that the aforementioned theory of the russian humans/drones being the answer to the "who does they refer to" question is still a valid conclusion, other candidates could be Doll's classmates, teachers, neighbours, unknown russian drones and parents.

While we can't defy one, singular, correct answer to the question, let's review our options either way:

- Classmates - I'm going to divide Doll's classmates into two possible camps (fever): those who speak Russian as their default language, and those who don't speak Russian as their default language.

As far as we are aware, none of the students in Uzi's class aside from Doll speak Russian by default, which means that the default Russian speaking classmates in question must be students of other classes. We see Doll hunt down and kill some kids of other classes right at the start of the episode, implying that both Doll and Lizzy know various other students in their school, and probably spend time with them.

In case the students in question are the classmates that we have seen in the episodes from 1 to 4, whom we know for a fact that they don't speak Russian, then let's ask us another question to divide them into two more groups: can Drones change their language setting, or are they stuck with their default one?

If Drones can change their language setting to Russian from English, then a reasonable conclusion as to why Doll's classmates said "Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs." in Russian was to mock Doll for messing up something in her language, and it remained impressed inside Doll's mind exactly due to the circumstances and people it was used (It's not really probable).

If Drones cannot change their default language setting, then this implies that Doll's classmates and at least all of Gen 2 Worker Drones kind can speak languages not adhering to their default one, which, while a fun and interesting theory, doesn't lead us anywhere.

- Teachers - it's definitely possible, we don't know if Liam is the only teacher at their school, for what we know, the class or the school could have multiple teachers, and some of them could be Russian speaking ones; probably, since Russian speaking Worker Drones were likely built to serve humans who could only speak or primarily spoke russian, the russian speaking teachers could've taught Doll what they perceived as some way of saying the Russians taught them.

The line "Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs." would then make far more sense than you think: we know that the humans used Copper-9 as a base for their experiments, therefore, it's possible for one of these experiments to have escaped through a ventilation shaft using, and the Russian speaking human in service could have said the iconic line in front of one of his pet drones, to which he interpreted it as something Russian people say in general.

I'm attributing this theory to the teachers, but this also applies to Doll's parents, just like the default language question applies to both students and all of Worker Drone kind alike.

- Neighbours - we're never given any reason to believe that Doll has neighbours, much less that she interacts/has interacted with them and they spoke to her in her language setting; they are a perfectly valid answer, but they are also an incredibly bland and uninteresting one.

- Unknown Russian speaking Worker Drones - pretty much in the same camp as Doll's neighbours; they are perfectly valid, but they are a blank slate type of answer. Also, one thing against both this and the neighbours theory being plausible is that these made up characters should be memorable enough in order for Doll to pick up their lines as something she would quote in this situation.

Memorability isn't a necessary qualification for the classmates and the teachers, as Doll is forced to see them every single day of her life, meaning that even if she finds them boring, she has to put up with them enough times for her to memorise some of their characteristics.

- Parents - Lastly, we arrive at Doll's parents, characters that have massive importance to Doll's personal life story.

It's heavily theorised by the community that Doll's parents probably spoke russian a lot, and may have even been their default language; this theory is so popular that the majority of the fanbase views it as canon, and can you blame them? The evidence is there:

Yeva is the russian version of the name Eve, wife of Adam, first sinner, giving Doll's mother (and maybe her father too, if we ever end up learning his name is not Mitchell 👀) possible ties to the Bible. Also, if Doll's parents spoke Russian, it would explain why Doll speaks that language as well: she probably inherited that default language setting from them, or at the very least she favours it over other options because that's how her parents preferred to speak, in case she's able to change her own language settings.

That being said... What reason would Doll's parents have to say the following line of "Whoops, I should've..." at all? Much less in front of Doll?

Yeva had the patch, therefore she probably didn't need to kill and consume other Worker Drones for their oil, and it seems that Doll only awakened her Solver powers when her parents died, so again, if the implication is that someone tried to escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs (mirrors that, may I remind you, probably weren't there when Doll's parents were alive, and were put there by Doll after she was orphaned) and Doll's parents were commenting on that in Russian, what would have been the necessary situation for this to happen?

Furthermore, Doll uses the word "say", not "said", and if Doll's parents are truly dead like we think, it would be illogical of Doll to quote their words with the present form of the verb, unless she's delusional and still believes they are alive, which is something plausible if their position at the dinner table is anything to go by.

But now, I want to zoom out those analytical lenses and take a second look at the phrase in its entirety:

As they say in Russian...

If the "they" that I've been talking about this whole time actually refers to all Russians, as a community, and in the most generalized meaning of the word, then, we might consider the idea that Doll, despite speaking their same language, may not view herself as a Russian, or it's trying to put some distance between herself and that group of people.

And if these are the cases, we could ask ourselves this:

Does Doll like the fact that other people think she's Russian? Or does she like speaking Russian at all, if Worker Drones are only capable of speaking one language only?

Maybe Doll doesn't like her own russian speaking voice, as it alienates her from the rest of her class, maybe all of her school, and, since we never see any other Russian speaking Worker Drones, maybe the entire colony (Khan's multiple languages manual is not a piece of counter evidence, because as far as the series shows us, all of the Russian speaking Worker Drones in that colony with the exception of Doll might have died before the pilot).

This little idea would also tie back to Uzi's own feelings of social alienation, helping Doll to better serve her purpose of dark mirror/foil to the protagonist.

Finally, let's look at the second line of Doll in this scene.

"Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs."

Despite this line being way longer than the last one, this portion of the segment is going to be far shorter, as there are far less things that I want to discuss.

"a ventilation shaft" is interesting, as it implies that Doll has multiple ventilation shafts inside her house, unless, of course, this is a phrase she took from someone else.

From what we know of the Patch, it seems capable of shielding the wearer from possession, but there's no evidence that it also stops the overheating problem, therefore, it's possible that Yeva installed multiple ventilation shafts inside her house to avoid this precise problem, or she might have done it as reference to how human trauma victims have respiration problems. (Shout-out to @dreamii-krybaby for reminding me of the overheating issue).

"discarded" is also a very interesting word, as it's pretty much in the same vein as "Russian": surprisingly vague when you inspect it further.

I looked up the meaning of its present form online, and its etymology is: get rid of (someone or something) as no longer useful or desirable/a thing rejected as no longer useful or desirable, which... it's a surprisingly in character word for Doll to say.

This is actually a VERY huge thing to me, as it makes me think that the writers could have putted a minimal amount of effort to make this line sound like something Doll would actually say, which runs counter to what my original assumptions when starting this analysis were.

Keep in mind: this word didn't have to be discarded, it could have easily been broken, or bloody, which still fit, but no, it's discarded. Where did Doll get all of those mirrors from? I don't know. Ultimately though, I don't think any of this leads to any interesting theory or idea.

Finally, let's repeat what we did with the "As they say in Russian..." phrase and let's take another zoomed out look at this entire line:

"Whoops, I should've predicted that someone could escape out of a ventilation shaft using discarded mirrors as stairs."

Now it may be a good time to ask the question Why is Doll saying both this and the previous line, as it doesn't seem to fit the context of "my next victim has just escaped from my grasp and this could lead to problems for me later on". This could just be Doll's way of expressing stress, but her facial expression is so hard to read, that I have absolutely no idea of what she could be thinking in this moment.

Now that I'm finally done squeezing the "reading between the lines" metaphor to it's absolute limit with this scene (I could have gone on for much longer, I could have talked about the possible meaning of the tent showing a toaster inside a bathtub or other things), it's finally time to go back to another question that has been going on in my mind lately:

Are this lines something that Doll would actually say?

Is this joke in character for Doll?

3: It's Doll... Right?

Do you remember how I previously implied that this joke line was out of character for Doll? Well, the truth is... that it really isn't.

I actually believe that this line makes perfect sense for the character that Doll has been built up to be... up to this point.

One of the things that analysing these lines made me notice is that every time Doll changes design she also feels like a completely different character then the one we were introduced with; I can definitely see the classic, cheerleader Doll that we saw in episode 2 and in the earlier parts of episode 3 saying these lines, but not Prom dress nor button eyed Doll.

All the times we saw the classic, quiet girl Doll she was presented as calm, unbothered, and collected, even if she was secretly a serial killer; that's the Doll I can envision saying this joke in such a situation.

Prom dress Doll by contrast is completely different, she's extremely emotional, very spiteful, deadly serious and has lost all of her cool.

Button eyed Doll is straight up the bottom of the barrel, she's completely lost it: she lacks both the coolness factor of classic Doll and the threat level of Prom dress Doll, she's so emotionally unstable and irrational that it's a miracle that she's to formulate any plans at all, then she dies once she's no longer needed for the story.

Keep in mind: all of these different characterizations make sense and are supposed to be different stages of a much more nuanced antagonist, it's just that... not all of the puzzle pieces are there. Everything adds up to one unique identity eventually, it's just that some of the steps are way too up to interpretation or are just omitted entirely.

4: is this joke actually funny?

You might think that this is an unnecessary talking point, and it is, but since we are already overanalyzing a joke line, we might as well see if the general public finds this to be an actually funny bit of comedy or if it had any lasting impact in the fanbase.

Since comedy is subjective and I'm a machine, I thought about doing a Google search to see what are the most common ingredients that make comedy hit, but then I remembered that the main reason why I went so unnecessarily in depth when breaking down the dialogue of this scene was because these lines, despite how unimportant and uninteresting they might be to me, are still undisputable pieces of Doll content present the show; looking up the comedy aspect of this dialogue and attempting to objectify it, something that would get me to be clowned on a lot by basically everyone despite how happy I would feel to show other people my mental instability, doesn't really give me any new informations about Doll's character aside from maybe seeing if she has some hidden comedic potential.

So instead, let's just see how other people view this line.

Fun fact: I started writing this post 6 days ago, and I was going to use only the comments under episode 3 of Murder Drones as evidence for the public opinions, but then Yagster, the poll guy on YouTube, made a poll to see what was the best line of episode 3 according to people, and as you can imagine, this joke was amongst the four options, and it's what was picked up as the best.

Anyway, here's some screenshotted comments:

(Got these from various sources)

Here's the positive ones.

And here's the negative one. (I was sure there were more of these, but this is the only one I ended up finding)

From what I've seen, the fanbase has a mostly positive opinion of this dialogue, there was a sizable chunk of individuals quoting it in the comment section of episode 3, though it doesn't pop out as often as other great lines from the show, probably because of how long and overly specific it is.

I would have said that they have forgotten about it, but if you bring it back up to their faces they remember it immediately.

So there we go.

Closing thoughts.

I think this is it.

I didn't have to do this, nobody wanted me to do this, but now that I've done it, I feel an immense sense of closure, something that I've been needing for a while.

I feel like one of the major problems that I need to work on a lot is my priority list.

Originally, I started writing this post as a side project, something to push out to compensate for the amount of time I needed to complete other works of mine, but due to my maniacal need for perfectionism and short attention span, this "side project" ended up taking much more time than I wanted to, I feel like my ideal model for fast produced, high quality content just isn't viable for me, and I should really learn to focus on one task at a time.

Once again, this line is just a comedy bit, I doubt anybody ever expected it to be put through as much scrutiny as I've put it to, but if any of the ideas I came up with while writing this stimulated your creativity in any capacity, I'll be glad to have inspired you.

Good morning, afternoon, evening, night and day everyone.

[changelingsandothernonsense]

not necessarily a quest, but does Sydari ever find Vulthuryol down in Blackreach?

And for a quest, how about hmmm, Forgotten Names down in the Midden Dark?

(I wish I could ask Morrowind quests, but I haven't played the game yet 😓)

Sydari definitely encounters Vulthuryol when she and Josh are in Blackreach. The two are slowly making their way through the cavern, Josh taking notes on everything he sees down there so that he can come back later for a proper expedition when everything with the dragons is said and done. As they approach what Josh translates as the "Silent City" he notices a huge globe light hanging above them. He wonders, excitedly about if it had a component of harmonic resonance to it and Sydari offers to shout at it for him.

The thing rings like a gong, which supported his idea but then they ended up calling down a dragon and suddenly they both have 100 questions about how the fuck did a dragon get down there? Was it related to the lonely giant? Or the strange nirnroot. At any rate, they had a cranky dragon to deal with and the two of them would end up having one hell of an evening.

Forgotten Names is a quest that I think Sydari and Joshi's daughter Vyna would do with her classmates. Sydari's taking care of things in Riften and Josh is planning that aforementioned expedition to Blackreach since he's now the Head of Dwemeri Studies at the CoW. He keeps an eye on his kid and gets to use the college's resources - he thinks that's a good deal. (At this point it's known that the Nerevarine is Talerion of Sunhold and that Teldryn Sero is both. He actually goes by his pen name when he's teaching and running his department at the college).

Vyna starts exploring the Midden fairly early on and starts finding strange artifacts and ritual items within the tunnels. She starts taking Brelyna, J'zargo and Onmund with her on these trips as they start trying to figure out how they all fit together.

Then they find the incident report and the key and J'zargo wonders if they can replicate the spell because "Hey isn't that something I can boast about to everyone".

They find that the rings they need are in the Arcanaeum and Vyna, who obviously inherited stealthy skills from her mother, ends up breaking into the chest they're locked in one night only to be caught by one of the Instructors, who had apparently been up late on the upper level of the library doing research and had noticed her scurrying about. Lucky for Vyna that instructor was her dad, and she has Josh wrapped right around her finger... or she thinks she does. Josh suspects shenanigans and decides to keep an eye on her. He notices Vyna entering the Midden one night with her friends with what appears to be a heavy satchel and decides to follow them, making sure he keeps his distance.

He ends up watching his kid and her friends set up a Daedric summoning circle and he's had enough. He goes to ruin the party.

Of course, that just makes Vyna angry and she shoves the rings on the gauntlet anyway and ends up summoning a bunch of skulls which then call forth some sort of Daedric Pirate Josh hasn't heard of, but he ends up with a gaggle of scared kids hiding behind him as he parlays with Velehk Sain.

Now, Josh doesn't fuck much with Daedra, so he ends up going toe to toe with the guy instead, though first he ends up trapping the kids behind a fire ward as he and Erra's ancestor ghost take the pirate down.

Josh hangs those two Scimitar the pirate was carrying on his wall. He likes adding things to his sword collection, after all. He ends up caving and giving Vyna the treasure map he finds on the guy and this leads to her becoming a treasure hunter for a while.

[disastermages]

Draped in Black and Dripping With Love ch. 7

[read it on ao3]

Sweat beads down Lan Zhan’s back as he leans into the washing machine, grasping at something pinned between the metal drum and the agitator. Something above his head, on the ground floor of the house thumps and rolls, followed by footsteps that probably belong to Wei Ying. The drum spins round and round slowly as Lan Zhan begins to work one of Wei Ying’s shirts loose at a glacial pace. He doesn’t want to stretch it or rip it. Wei Ying has more than enough stretched and ripped shirts as it is.

Lan Zhan almost tips over into the washer as something crunches behind him, his movements halting for fear of breaking some delicate component of the washing machine, only for something else entirely to try and force him further in. The weight of the unseen hands knocks the breath from Lan Zhan’s chest, his mouth opening and closing uselessly. He can’t think about how many of them are pushing at him, nails digging into his kidneys, dull, blunt fingertips pressing hard into his shoulders to shove him down harder and harder, they even dig into his spine, making him want to cry out, but no sound will come.

Calling out for Wei Ying isn’t an option, even if Lan Zhan wanted to. If he could speak, there’s no way Lan Zhan could make himself ask him for help, not after he’d caught him speaking so casually with the Yiling Patriarch.

The washing machine groans as yet another invisible hand twists and pulls at the knobs until water gushes forth, filling the drum slowly. The edge of the washing machine has long been digging into Lan Zhan’s chest, but only now does he let himself gasp as another set of hands begins pushing at the back of his head. His eyes grow wide and his arms strain against the force of so many hands, so many spirits that mean to drown him in a washing machine of all things.

His hair falls from the claw clip he’d used to contain it as the hands pushing at him tear at it, pointed, razor sharp nails snatching at his scalp.

“Stop.” Lan Zhan rasps as the water level crawls higher. Wei Ying’s tangled shirt bobs towards the top, finally free to float. An ache settles over Lan Zhan’s entire upper half, as if he’d been lashed, as if the very skin had been torn from his back. Try as he might to sound commanding, Lan Zhan feels his feet skid out from underneath him as he’s pushed down further. The water is just short of brushing against his nose, but when Lan Zhan blinks, the water has turned into something darker and thicker. Bubbles rise up and pop and Lan Zhan nearly gags as the scent of blood fills his nose and his mouth. His fingers slip against the metal, dropping him even closer and dipping the ends of his hair into the blood as it rises ever closer.

It will overflow soon. It will overflow and flood the basement and Lan Zhan fights against the hands holding him in place while the skin of his back splits and bleeds.

He doesn’t see or hear Wei Ying coming until all the hands pushing and shoving at Lan Zhan disappear in an instant. Twenty or thirty hands give way to two as Lan Zhan all but falls backwards against Wei Ying’s chest. His head swims at the lack of pressure pushing against him, but Lan Zhan still fights against Wei Ying’s arms as they close around his middle. He can’t understand what Wei Ying is saying, he can’t even begin to turn the sounds against his ear into words that make sense. He can only understand that Wei Ying is talking quickly and loudly as he presses his weight against Lan Zhan’s back, but the simple movement of it only makes Lan Zhan cry out, the noise turning into something between a scream and a wail. It’s enough to make Lan Zhan twist against Wei Ying’s chest despite the pain to shove him away, but it isn’t enough to keep him from dropping onto his elbows against the basement floor.

All the noises, all the fuss he’d managed to make, falls into silence as Lan Zhan swallows them down. He doesn’t have to touch his face to know that he’s sobbing, but the coolness of the basement floor against his forehead is soothing enough to clear some of the fog of pain that’s riddled Lan Zhan’s mind. It’s enough to force Lan Zhan to calm himself, it’s enough to force Lan Zhan to focus on Wei Ying’s words as he swears and crawls closer to him on his knees.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying starts and Lan Zhan can feel his hands hovering over his back, “fuck, Lan Zhan, your back… You’re bleeding.” Without anything better to do with them, Wei Ying has no choice but to put his hands on Lan Zhan’s shoulders to pull him up, there’s nowhere else to touch him. 

Lan Zhan can’t force himself to answer Wei Ying, even as he feels Wei Ying gather the length of his hair up into his fist before he throws it over Lan Zhan’s shoulder. Lan Zhan can still see the claw clip he’d been using out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t dare reach for it as another crunching sound rings out in the basement. 

Relief settles over Lan Zhan as Wei Ying looks around the room for the source of it, his hand squeezes Lan Zhan’s shoulder, probably to comfort him, but Lan Zhan can’t stop himself from pointing out the bald ghost of a decaying child that’s hiding underneath the table Lan Zhan had been using to fold the laundry. “Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan leans himself against Wei Ying despite trying not to, “do you see it?” How could Wei Ying miss it?

The child-ghost stares at the both of them blankly as it bites into another finger. It’s fat, rotting cheeks round out as it chews. The sight of it makes Lan Zhan’s stomach churn. He can’t help but tuck himself against Wei Ying’s neck, no matter how intimate the act is or how delicate it makes him seem, he even allows himself to grip onto Wei Ying’s shirt like a child.

He feels Wei Ying’s grip on him tighten and at the same time, he feels Wei Ying’s whole body harden, it’s almost as if he’s laying against someone entirely different. “Get lost.” Wei Ying orders, but he isn’t speaking to Lan Zhan, he’s speaking to the child-ghost. There’s no mistaking the red glow of Wei Ying’s eyes. It should make Lan Zhan push him away again. It should make him fight against Wei Ying’s hold on him. It should make Lan Zhan run from him, no matter the aching and tearing of his back, but the notion doesn’t even cross Lan Zhan’s mind. It makes him shiver for the wrong reason.

The child-ghost had started crawling towards them by the time Lan Zhan had looked away, but it hesitates now. One hand remains closed around the uneaten fingers, but the other snatches Lan Zhan’s claw clip before the child fades away completely. It’s only half gone by the time Lan Zhan feels Wei Ying’s hand on his cheek, but he still lets Wei Ying turn his head. The red glow is gone from Wei Ying’s eyes, but the hardness of his mouth and his shoulders remains, even as his eyes soften. 

“Lan Zhan, can you walk?”

All the command, all the bossiness, all the firmness is gone from Wei Ying’s voice as he speaks to Lan Zhan. Wei Ying strokes his thumb back and forth underneath Lan Zhan’s eye, uncaring of whatever dampness that still resides there. 

It’s too much.

It’s too much and Lan Zhan can’t find the words to answer, he can only blink and turn his face away from Wei Ying. Despite everything, his heart still beats faster than it should. Heat creeps into Lan Zhan’s cheeks as he tries to stand, his hands planted against the floor, rather than on Wei Ying. 

Standing up by using Wei Ying’s shoulders would’ve been easier, it might’ve even been kinder to the tender mess that his back has become, but Lan Zhan forces himself up on unsteady feet and legs that feel like jelly. He doesn’t let Wei Ying help him as he staggers over to the washing machine, but there’s nothing when he looks inside of it besides the shirt he’d been wrestling with. There is no blood, there isn’t even any water beyond just a few stray drops.

Wei Ying doesn’t give him the chance to try and grab the shirt himself, he even grabs onto Lan Zhan’s wrist to stop him as he makes a grab for it with his free hand. It comes away freely, as if it had never been stuck in the first place. For some reason, that’s what lodges a lump in Lan Zhan’s throat. His eyes burn as he blinks away tears of frustration, his mouth opening and closing in time with his fists.

“It was full of blood.” Lan Zhan hates how childish he sounds when he says it, but what he hates even more is the way Wei Ying is watching him, like he already knew. Wei Ying steps closer to him and Lan Zhan doesn’t have it in him to step backwards to get away. He doesn’t even have it in him to swipe at the tears as they pearl in his eyes. One of them tips down his cheek and more follow as the strength goes out of Lan Zhan’s legs completely. He tilts forward and Wei Ying catches him readily. This time, he’s mindful enough to be careful about the way he touches Lan Zhan’s back. Maybe that’s why he cards his fingers through Lan Zhan’s hair and cradles the back of his head. Maybe that’s the only reason Lan Zhan wants to believe that Wei Ying would do it.

“You were leaning over the washer when I came down, I thought you were just looking at something that got stuck, or that it was broken or something and you were trying to fix it, but I didn’t…” Wei Ying’s fingers dig into Lan Zhan’s shoulder, “Were they trying to push you under?” Lan Zhan hates the way Wei Ying’s voice drops into a whisper. He hates that he sounds so angry. Lan Zhan can’t answer him, not with his words, so he squeezes his eyes shut and he nods his head. He’d put his hands out on Wei Ying’s chest to catch himself, but he doesn’t move them now, he can’t. He can feel Wei Ying’s heartbeat like this, he can feel the thump of Wei Ying’s heart as it slams against his ribcage. It might burst through if he took his hands away.

Wei Ying doesn’t give Lan Zhan a choice about the piggyback ride that takes him back upstairs, he’s barely given the chance to wrap his arms around Wei Ying’s neck before they’re moving. The steps creak under their combined weight and Lan Zhan can only cling onto him tighter, his knees digging into Wei Ying’s ribs.

It doesn’t take long until Lan Zhan is deposited on the kitchen counter yet again, though Wei Ying is far more gentle about it than he’d been the first time, though he still makes Lan Zhan turn around and take his shirt off so he can look at his back. Try as Wei Ying might to put the shirt out of Lan Zhan’s line of sight, Lan Zhan can still see that it’s ruined with blood. Straight lines of blood are smeared from where Wei Ying had pressed Lan Zhan against his chest. Thin, almost impossible to see lines have been made hard to miss by blotches of dark, dark red that makes Lan Zhan wince just to see it.

Those winces turn into shivers as Wei Ying drags two fingers over the sensitive skin between the gashes. He mumbles to himself and Lan Zhan can’t even begin to try and understand what he’s saying, not until he feels the thinner scratches start to close while the bigger ones scab over, still sticky with the freshness of the wound.

“Wei Ying should not waste healing spells on me,” Lan Zhan croaks, his arms closing around his bare chest. He isn’t sure why he does it, it isn’t cold and he doesn’t have anything Wei Ying hasn’t seen before on his own body, but the heat creeping up from his neck and onto his cheeks command it. “Healing spells consume high amounts of spiritual energy, Wei Ying should save it for himself. Something could happen.”

Without an answer, Wei Ying presses his too warm hands against Lan Zhan’s shoulders, but they creep upwards and Wei Ying crowds closer, until Lan Zhan can feel his nose brushing against the nape of his neck. A surge of Wei Ying’s spiritual energy strikes through Lan Zhan like lightning and he whimpers. There’s no chance of stopping it from coming, Wei Ying’s spiritual energy is a live wire, a shock of red that makes Lan Zhan’s eyes face the ceiling, wide but unseeing as he rocks forward, plush bottom lip bitten between his teeth to keep from crying out again. 

All over his back, the wounds pull themselves closed and Wei Ying breathes out against the back of Lan Zhan’s neck. If he tries hard, Lan Zhan can feel Wei Ying’s mouth moving against his back, half forming words and then forgetting them just as quickly. Lan Zhan can taste blood in his mouth, the taste of it seeping in from his bottom lip until Wei Ying’s hand slips around his throat and glides upwards. He allows Wei Ying to pry his bottom lip and substitute it with his thumb easily. If he’d been gnawing at his own lip, he only barely nips at Wei Ying’s thumb, though his tongue works against the pad of it. Breath comes to Lan Zhan harder and harder, his thighs twitching shut as he feels the largest cuts pull themselves closed, the flesh still raw and sticky.

It feels as though he’s being robbed of something as Wei Ying’s spiritual energy abates, as if he’d been half way to something only to be dragged back down to reality. Wei Ying’s thumb is still in his mouth and mortification is setting in as Lan Zhan all but spits it out. His shirt is ruined beyond repair, but Lan Zhan still reaches for it to cover his front with.

He works his throat, trying to think of excuses as he turns to face Wei Ying fully, though he can’t meet his eyes, even as Wei Ying’s hands find his arms. The warmth that blooms there is too hot, it burns Lan Zhan where he sits with burning cheeks and ears.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan starts, his voice a whisper and his legs locked tight together. He needs to say something. Anything. Anything that won’t make Wei Ying get the wrong idea about him and his… reactions.

“I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?” Wei Ying says instead, and he’s still standing too close, he’d be between Lan Zhan’s legs if Lan Zhan only let him. “I know I wasn’t that great at healing when we were still in school, but I had to get better at it while I was away.”

Every last word in Lan Zhan’s throat dies on his lips. Wei Ying… thought he was in pain? Wei Ying thought that the act of healing, of exchanging spiritual energy, of something so agonizingly close to dual cultivation, would be painful to Lan Zhan? It feels too easy for an escape, but Lan Zhan still takes it. His head still hangs, but it isn’t quite as low as he shakes his head.

“Wei Ying has improved. It did not hurt very much.” It didn’t hurt at all, that’s what made it worse, but Lan Zhan would throw himself to the resentful spirits of this house before he would admit how much it hadn’t hurt.

Lan Zhan should be ashamed of himself.

Wei Ying is still holding him by his elbows, he still hasn’t moved to make room for Lan Zhan to get himself down from the counter, and when Lan Zhan tries to move to the side to get down anyway, Wei Ying still holds onto him, uncertainty creeping into his face.

“I made you something.” Wei Ying confesses, “I’ve been working on it for a little while, between the mural and everything else, whenever you aren’t really looking.” The words tumble out of Wei Ying’s mouth almost too quickly for Lan Zhan to understand them, but he has no choice but to watch as Wei Ying reaches into his pocket and pulls something out.

The ring, made of wood and stained with something that brings out the natural pattern and color, rolls between Wei Ying’s fingers as he looks at it. The warmth of his hands leave cold spots on Lan Zhan’s arms as they peel away from him. “It’s for protection. I wanted to give it to you the other day, but you caught me talking to him, and then I thought you were going to leave.” The more Wei Ying plays with the ring, the more Lan Zhan can see how detailed the carvings in it are, regardless of the scale Wei Ying had been forced to work with. 

“I don’t know what happened between him and Hanguang-jun, he won’t tell me and he won’t accept that you’re someone different,” Lan Zhan’s lips part as Wei Ying picks up his right hand cautiously, as if he’s afraid of being slapped away, “but I don’t ever want him to hurt you like that again, I don’t want him making you sick either.” The ring fits perfectly as Wei Ying slides it onto his ring finger, though now, Wei Ying is the one who won’t look Lan Zhan in the face.

“Wei Ying,” Lan Zhan starts, but he doesn’t know where he’s going. Lan Jingyi sent the files on the Yiling Patriarch and Hanguang-jun two days ago, but Lan Zhan has been putting them off. He’s pulled them up and opened them, certainly, but he hasn’t been able to bring himself to read a single word of any of it.

“Just keep it on when you’re in the house, Lan Zhan. That’s all you have to do. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to wear it out.” Wei Ying is still holding his hand, his eyes more focused on Lan Zhan’s fingers than on the ring itself, though his thumb still swipes over it once or twice. Without another thought, Lan Zhan covers Wei Ying’s hand with his own, though he doesn’t brush his lips against his knuckles the way he wants to. He couldn’t do that. Not as they are now.

Red-orange light creeps in through the kitchen window as Lan Zhan stares into Wei Ying’s eyes. The ruined shirt falls away from Lan Zhan’s chest and onto the kitchen floor, but Lan Zhan doesn’t have a hand to stop it, both of his hands are occupied by Wei Ying and the way he brings them against his heart, his chin pressing against one of Lan Zhan’s thumbs. 

“We need to get going, the meteor shower is gonna start soon.” Wei Ying murmurs, his voice is quiet enough that if he weren’t leaning forward, he wouldn’t have heard him. “I really want to see it with you, Lan Zhan. No one else.”

The edge of the countertop rubs against the sorest, rawest parts of Lan Zhan’s back as he eases himself down onto the floor, but he can’t bear to take his hands away from where Wei Ying had pressed them, not until Wei Ying lets go of him on his own. Only then does Lan Zhan begin to peel himself away as slowly as a bystander looking away from a car accident.

They could’ve seen the meteor shower from the house, Lan Zhan is sure of it, but Wei Ying still drives them out, past the grocery and hardware stores and almost to the edge of town, only to lead him deeper and deeper into a forest, until they reach a clearing.

The trees stand tall and rigid, but they still give way to a wide circle in the purpling sky. Stars have only just begun to come out of hiding places as Wei Ying spreads a blanket out on the ground. Lan Zhan doesn’t give Wei Ying the option of not letting him help, he grabs onto the other side of the blanket, until it’s flattened evenly on the patch of grass Wei Ying had picked out for them.

He’d picked it out because it looked soft, Lan Zhan knows that much, even as they sit on opposite sides of the blanket. There’s a lineup of food containers sitting between them, but Wei Ying holds the one and only bottle of wine between his legs, one hand wrapped around the neck. 

Condensation beads against the dark glass, trickling down as Wei Ying rubs his thumb back and forth while they both purposefully keep their eyes skyward. Lan Zhan has no choice but to swallow down the want to lick the wetness from Wei Ying’s fingertips, though it’s nothing compared to the thirst Lan Zhan feels as he watches Wei Ying take a swig from the corner of his eye. A drop, a trickle, of wine runs down the corner of Wei Ying’s mouth and down his throat before it catches in the hollow and runs down into the fabric of his shirt.

Lan Zhan does not drink. Stupid things happen when Lan Zhan drinks, but for a long, long moment, he thinks that it might be worth the risk, that taking the bottle from Wei Ying’s hands and taking a drink would be worth whatever came after.

But what would come after? Would he give into every stray thought he has about Wei Ying? Or would he just end up running around the woods, forcing Wei Ying to find him and then take him home?

Wei Ying lays flat on his back, his head propped up by one arm, but Lan Zhan remains sitting, his hands balled into fists against his stomach as the first streak of light goes across the sky. Lan Zhan watches the reflection of it in Wei Ying’s dark eyes, his chest tightening as he leans onto his side.

If Wei Ying notices him moving the takeout, he doesn’t call attention to it, nor does he look at Lan Zhan. He keeps his eyes skyward, sipping wine until Lan Zhan moves in far too close, the whole of his body leaning into Wei Ying’s space.

“Lan Zhan?” The mouth of the wine bottle is still poised against Wei Ying’s lips, he’d been ready to take another sip, but Lan Zhan takes it away from him and raises it to his own mouth. He doesn’t swallow the wine as it stings his tongue, nor does he screw up his face in disgust the way he wants to, instead, he settles his weight over Wei Ying’s hips and sets the bottle just out of Wei Ying’s reach.

His free hand brushes against Wei Ying’s jaw as he kisses him. It’s close-mouthed at first, a middle school kiss, but Lan Zhan deepens it, licking at Wei Ying’s lips and letting the wine trickle out against them until Wei Ying opens up against him, relaxing as he takes both the wine and Lan Zhan’s tongue into his mouth.

Lan Zhan’s hand slides lower, from Wei Ying’s jaw to his neck to the precious amount of skin left exposed by his shirt, but Wei Ying’s hands go lower. They grab onto Lan Zhan’s hips and hold him in place. The night air blows a cool breeze against the back of Lan Zhan’s neck as his hair falls over one shoulder. It almost brings him back down to earth, it almost makes him stop and sit up, but Wei Ying stops him and kisses him harder, his arm draping heavily over Lan Zhan’s shoulders.

“Don’t think about it, Lan Zhan. I’ll do whatever you want as long as you don’t think about it.” Wei Ying is breathless against Lan Zhan’s lips as he sits the both of them up. Somehow, his eyes look darker and more dangerous. Lan Zhan doesn’t want to think about the feeling that shoots through him as he’s trapped by those eyes.

“I want Wei Ying to make me his.” Lan Zhan answers without thinking, just like Wei Ying told him to. Lan Zhan can see the questions as they bloom behind Wei Ying’s face, but instead of letting them form properly, he kisses him again and begins to lean backwards.

He leans backwards until Wei Ying has no choice but to follow him.

“Lan Zhan, wait, you shouldn’t lay on your back.” Wei Ying tries to warn him, but Lan Zhan shakes his head and spreads his legs wide to accommodate Wei Ying’s hips. He’s trying his hardest to convince Wei Ying to settle his weight over top of him without having to say it.

“Make me yours. Do not think of anything else.”

[demonfox38]

Completed - Wild ARMs

Man, it really gives the whole plot away to know that Zepet is supposed to be translated as Geppetto. 😅

I was having another indecisive spat on what to play this June, as I wasn't in the mood to play anything in particular. (Decision fatigue gets real bad when you have literally 281 games left to beat between Steam and physical copies. Shit, that's not even getting into mini consoles…) After tossing up another poll online, the series winner for this month turned out to be "Wild ARMs." Now, I've got one mutual that is pretty sweet on "Wild ARMs 3" in particular, but I didn't want to jump right to that, as I know how it can go when you start a series further down the line, then go back in time. Features get rolled back; content gets rougher. (Well, in a world where things are always improving, that's how it goes, anyway.) So, to get a fresh taste of this series, I started with its primary release.

"Wild ARMs" (not to be confused with "Wild Guns") follows the adventures of three travelers seeking to restore life to their dying world via the help of ancient guardians, magic, and technology—at least, when it isn't trying to actively kill them. Standard RPG plot, right? The major twist here revolves around the use of iconography from the American Old West to create a whole new world and set of combat and exploration systems. Does it work? Well…it's weird to see castles and princesses in a story taking aesthetics from the distinctly anti-monarchical United States, but honestly, we're also responsible for the Disney Princess subculture. So, maybe it's not as weird of a mix as it initially seems.

This game is like every RPG and no RPG at all. Like, if you're long in the tooth with RPGs, you'll get it. Aesthetically, it's on par with contemporary titles like "Tales of Phantasia" and "Xenogears," particularly with the latter's mix of anime cutscenes, 2D sprites, and 3D battle models. ("Golden Sun" also shares a similar pseudo 3D model sprite appearance to this game, if you want some more distant connections.) Dungeon navigation and puzzle manipulation feel very "Sweet Home"/"Tales" RPG/"Paper Mario" adjacent, with each party member acquiring a set of tools to use in their environment to make their way forward. Most surprisingly to me, I kept getting this feeling of nostalgia that I have when I play "Tales of Symphonia." Like, yes, tropes get passed around like hot potatoes in this particular genre of games, but holy shit. When you have:

A boy getting kicked out of the starting village due to violence in which he was involved,

A girl struggling with the veneer and duties of her role,

A man hiding his past struggles with letting an important woman in his life down,

A woman obsessed with the magical technology from ancient ruins,

A collection of supernatural entities fighting alongside humans via summon gauges,

A set of four powerful individuals dictating the fate of the planet,

A subquest involving rebuilding a city through your donations,

A unicorn hidden in a lake that turns out to be a component for healing a serious ailment, and

A goddamn giant ass tower serving as the connective tissue between the planet and the heavens…

Like, I didn't do deep research, but I did give a 10 minute flip through MobyGames to see if there was any staff overlap between "Wild ARMs" and "Tales of Symphonia." Finding nobody crossing the lines there was surprising. Some kind of convergent evolution was going on there, I guess! Hell, maybe the only reason I'm fixating on this is because of how integral "Tales of Symphonia" was to my life, and how this felt more "Symphonia"-esque to me than its literal sequel/predecessor "Tales of Phantasia"…

The big unique feature of this game is its focus on ARMs management. No, that is not a typo! In this universe, ARMs stands for Ancient Relic Machines, which are a variety of firearms both realistic and futuristic in nature. Proper management of your ARM inventory can make or break the toughest of battles, so it's worth investing some serious cash (or Gella; weird name, I know) into your main character's weaponry. Upgradable statistics include the firearm's power, accuracy, and ammo capacity. While a handful stand out as particularly useful (given your progress in the story), it doesn’t hurt to upgrade everything.

Oh. By the way. You can make that very easy to do.

The same mutual that first brought this series to my attention also let me know about a super critical game-breaking bug. (Thanks again, @unwontedfemme!) Ya see, games from this era were mostly written up in a combination of pointer languages (C++, most likely) and assembly code. If you are not used to working with pointers, you can make a significant mistake. When fetching the value of a variable, you can accidentally pass the address of where the variable is instead of the value itself. Given that this is usually a large hex value, you can accidentally max out or overflow a variable. I suspect the following bug is a result of that behavior.

In "Wild ARMs"', you can cause an item count max-out to happen by doing the following:

Secure Nx2 Heal Berries (where N is greater than 1), an item you want to duplicate with a stock of 1, and three active teammates.

Get in a battle.

Have Teammate 1 (Rudy) heal themselves.

Have Teammate 2 (Jack) heal themselves.

Have Teammate 3 (Cecilia) swap the inventory position of the Heal Berry and the item you want to duplicate, then back out of the inventory window and attack an enemy.

If you finish the round without exiting the battle, then the second item will duplicate itself to a maximum inventory value of 255, well exceeding the intended stock limit of 99. Chaining this bug can result not only in a shitton of items (and money, if you sell 254 of them off), but this can also aid the player in maxing out character stats and spell slots, as well as helping one character reduce his skills' MP costs all to 1 a piece. Like, damn, right? It's not as easy to do as, let's say, the card swap trick from "Castlevania: Circle of the Moon." But, damned if that doesn't save time grinding! (Although, honestly, I wouldn't recommend stat boosting too much. Don't want to lock yourself out of this method, do you?)

Like, okay. "Final Fantasy VII" had a similar item duplication bug. However, being able to do this from, like, two hours in gives this cheese some extra flavor.

You might be able to make yourself a walking tank in battle, but handling your characters' toolsets may be the metric that culls the wheat from the chaff. I could see a lot of people giving up before the credits hit due to a surprise stealth section with wonky speed boosts. Additional punishing tasks can include finicky positioning with grappling hooks, false item pickups, environmental damage, hidden insta-ejects from the dungeon, and time countdowns to escape certain doom, sometimes even paired with optional (and possibly missable) content. The most excruciating challenges are definitely in optional dungeons, but it's still irksome enough to mention. I probably would have had far less patience with the game had I not been playing it through a locally burned ISO and SwanStation.

Sometimes, I just don't want to drag my PS1/2 out of the basement.

For me, the most troublesome part of handling "Wild ARMs" was getting a grip on Filgaia itself. It definitely doesn't help that the game is bouncing you around from place to place, throwing in random teleporters before you even get a ship. Good luck navigating after that!

Like, look at this in-game map:

Tell me how this is helping you locate anything.

It should probably be noted that several proper nouns and names aren't translated the best here, either. Like, the game's text didn't fall into major grammatical traps until the end of the game. However, some poor translator was having a hell of a time working katakana into English. Several character and demon names were mangled in translation, including a significant chunk of the main cast. Particular offenses were translating Siegfried into Zeikfried, Vambrace (as in, a character's last name and knight title) into Van Burace, demon Belial into Berial, and critical minor character Geppetto into Zepet. Although, to be honest, I kind of like the last one getting name mashed. It makes a particular plot twist regarding his closest main character acquaintance a little more shadowed…

Also, it's kind of fucked up to name Jewish constructs after demons, isn't it? Oops. At least the people and elements based on generalized Native American culture aren't egregiously executed. There are probably a few more war bonnets than is kosher, but that's about the worst that I (an average white girl) can pick up on. Considering they could have easily all been magical space elves or robot demons with this plot's cast, the citizens of Baskar Village are very tame. They're just practicing their own religion, keeping peace on their own island. Alright! Understandable. Definitely better than whatever the hell's going on in "Wild ARMs 2", from what I've heard…

Look. I'm not the person to come to regarding this subject. I want to come by that honestly. I'm just glad when I get something Western flavored out of Japan and don't have to side-eye J. M. Barrie or Walt Disney. Because, ya know…any misunderstanding there are the fault of people like me. The least I can do is try to keep an open eye/mind/heart and let other people know if/when something comes up.

I'm not responsible for this game ripping off Ennio Morricone's "The Ecstasy of Gold", though!

Jabs aside, this game genuinely does have good music. If you want a place to pick and choose some items, this YouTube playlist should get you on your way. Particular tracks of interest include:

Into the Wilderness (the main theme)

Alone in the World

Town

After the Chaos and Destruction

Kishum Flame (teleporter theme)

Courage (Dungeon)

Critical Hit! (the main battle theme)

Wh-What (Zed's Theme, which sounds a bit like something from a "Ganbare Goemon" game)

Lamenting and a Promes;The Demon Tower that Pierces the Heavens; Return to Ashes (vocal arrangements!)

To the Sea of Stars

Holy Mother of Darkness

Morning of the Journey (orchestra arrangement of the main theme)

Honestly, I'm surprised at how thorough this soundtrack is, plagiarism incident aside. It does a better job than the visuals do at meshing the east-meets-west dynamic "Wild ARMs" has going for it. I can't be as glowing about some of the special effects sounds (especially on some of Jack's skills), but the music is solid.

Also? I found myself stopping to take screenshots of several enemies throughout the game. A lot of the enemies are striking. Like, okay. Sometimes, they're just caterpillars and mushrooms. Other times, they're disembodied heads with jagged fangs, bloated demons, delightful clowns, congealed corpses, decapitated soldiers riding chariots, or even spider-legged centaurs. Weird and gruesome? Sure. But, I always appreciate something weird coming after me, even if it's a unicorn with a dog's jaw and a crow's tail. And hell! They found some way to work in a kitsune into a Yeehaw RPG. That has to be worth something!

"Wild ARMs" is a special kind of game. I knew I was in for something good when the game managed to pull a credit drop in the middle of a goddamn funeral march. It is everything I am familiar with, sure, but the emotional beats worked well for me. Of critical note, I didn't feel the need to rush through the game. I was willing to give this game its time, even if I had 280 other games squirming around in the backlog. I can't say every plot point was executed perfectly, but I was sated by the experience. For 30 hours? That's downright economical, as far as an RPG goes.

I'm a little bit baffled as to why this game doesn't seem to have a lot of online groundswell for it. Like, I'm not completely confused. This poor bastard was a sprite-based RPG released in 1997 on the PlayStation. Guess what other game may have been getting more attention. I wonder if the genre flavor may have been off-putting as well. For a long time, Westerns were very out of style for people my generation. Even now, people are going to gravitate more towards a fast-paced shooter rather than an RPG to treat a cowboy itch. I guess those answers are simple enough. Still, it feels shallow.

Oh, well. At least it got to have five games. And a remake, even! That's at least par to the "Breath of Fire" series. Maybe it’s not the best comparison in the world to make, but I'm assuming people at least remember "Breath of Fire" games. And it ended up on the PlayStation Classic, of all things! I mean, that's about as prestigious as being on a doorstop, but it's some kind of accolade. Not even "Castlevania: Symphony of the Night" is on that, and that's one of the most wonderful, beautiful games to ever exist on any console.

If you are a junky for retro RPGs, this game is certainly worth your time! It's efficient and effective with its runtime, managing to meld new ideas and old tropes into its own stew. I'm honestly surprised with how much I enjoyed it. It could be some "Tales of Symphonia" wires crossing over in my head, but hell. It's nice to know there are still gems buried out there. 

[silvery-bluish]

Hello! hand on chest during a casual conversation and/ or bear hugs for Arsinoe pretty please ^^

Word Count: 408 + 373 Contents: Hand on chest during a casual conversation turned into Arsinoe and Themmy pre-HB not romantic not platonic but a Secret Third Thing and. only sort of hand on chest. Set between the Psychopathor incident and the Catastrofiend incident, to ground it in the timeline a little. Bear hugs is Arsinoe and Chen, strictly platonic, and Retri spoilers. Do not ask how it actually fits into the timeline because I don't have an answer for that one.

Prompt from here!

Hand on chest during a casual conversation

“You’ve never ridden a roller coaster.” It’s said without judgment, somehow, more double-checking than asking for an explanation for your failure to do something so normal. 

“No.” You and Anathema are sitting on the edge of a building, legs dangling over the side, taking a break from patrol to drink water. Hydration is important, in the Los Diablos sun, and you’re pretty sure their acid must use water in some way, even if it’s just for the component parts, or dilution. Not that you’ve asked about the chemistry. “Never had the chance.”

“What abouuut…” they trail off, thinking for a moment, swirling their water bottle gently to watch it spin. “Cotton candy? Funnel cake? Those games that are super rigged but you always sort of want to win a stuffed animal anyway?”

“I’ve never been to an amusement park at all,” you admit, “So if that’s all amusement park stuff, no.” You’re hoping it doesn’t make you sound too much like you’ve got no idea what you’re doing, trying to be human. How often do people go to that kind of thing? Is it notably weird that you haven’t?

“We should go,” Themmy says, smiling softly. “I didn’t get to go to one till a few years ago, they’re pretty fun if you go with friends. Bet we could grab Ortega, make a thing of it. And if you don’t like it, we can just grab a bunch of food and leave with it.”

It’s a quick tap, twice to their chest over their heart with your free hand and your own heart in your throat even though they can’t know what it means, not really, and you’re not going to explain, so you follow it up with, “I’d rather just go with you. Ortega would make too much of a thing of it, and I don’t know how well the crowds will mix with,” tap your temple twice with your pointer finger. Nervous fiddling of your hands, tapping away at other things, little messages just for you.

“Works for me,” Themmy says with a shrug, taking your weirdness in stride. “Maybe we can go with a bigger group next time.” They bump your shoulders together, swaying in and out of your personal space. “This trip can just be us. Less likely to get waylaid by the Charge Popularity Vortex that way, too.”

“That is a positive,” you muse, meeting their smile with a smile of your own.

Bear hugs

You hadn’t really thought of Chen as the hugging type, before. Too aloof, remote and distrusting, helmet and metal armor and a brick wall of a mind. But, hey, you’re apparently finding out that you’re not a good judge of character a lot these days.

Keep your eyes firmly shut, it'd be dark even if you open them because you’re hiding your whole damn face, hands knotted in his shirt -- worn, cotton, some symbol on the front too faded to parse -- his arms around your back in turn, one flesh one metal both his except--

It’s because he was looking for you that he got hurt. Lost his arm. Almost died. But he was looking for you, and you don’t know if it was some sense of duty, some desire to know how all the pieces laid out even when you were dead more than because it was you who’d died, but he’d looked either way. And that was worth-- something.

“I didn’t thank you, before, did I?” you say, before you can think better of it. Your voice is muffled slightly because you’re basically just talking into his chest, but when his arms loosen you don’t pull back. You don’t want to have to look at his face when you’re talking. 

“For what?” When he realizes you have no intention of actually letting go, his arms tighten again. Steady weight against your back. Willing to wait for you to explain yourself. 

“Looking for me. It. You didn’t find me, not all of me, but it matters that you.” Tried? Looked at all? “Cared,” you settle on. “So. Thank you.”

An intake of breath. Surprise, maybe, you’re pretty sure he’d been expecting you to get mad about it. Wanted you to get mad about it, a little. “Don’t do that.”

“What, thank you?” You don’t wait for an answer, just push onward fast enough that he can’t get a word in. “I can’t believe you’re trying to turn this into an argument. Just let me say this, ‘cause I’m probably never going to say it again." A beat, and he doesn't interrupt. "It matters that you tried, to me.”

A quiet huff of a laugh, barely more than an exhale. “Alright. No argument. Not this time, at least.”

“Good.”

[idontwanttowhy]

Review: Autumn's Concerto (2009)

AKA Next Stop Happiness, AKA the reason that I don't hate time jumps anymore

Synopsis

Liang Mu Cheng has had a tough life. Between her parents dying young, having to give up her passion for playing the piano, and being forced to live in a house with her step-mother's predator boyfriend, she can't seem to catch a break. When fate forces her in the path of one Ren Guang Xi, a law-school-flunking rich kid with anger management issues, things only seem to get worse. Meanwhile, Guang Xi, though he appears to have it all, is being torn apart from the inside--physically and emotionally. The accidental meeting sets in motion a drama that takes place over the span of years, complete with political intrigue, amnesia, courtroom trials, and of course, beef and carrot stew.

MZ Overview: 11/10, can't wait to watch it again!

I watched this at the recommendation of one of my friends who said it was a good entry into the world of Taiwanese dramas, and she was absolutely right! Each one of the 34 episodes was a treat where I was left wanting more. I went into this knowing nothing about the plot, so I was confused at first at the pacing of the show. Surely, I said, there isn't anywhere to go from here? But reader, there WAS. In the best way possible. One major component was a time jump, which was done so well and with so much story afterward that I didn't even mind. Hell, I even liked it! The cast of characters in the second half are so endearing that I kept forgetting that they weren't there the whole time. Don't even get me started on Liang Xiao Le.... one word: ADORABLE. I will most definitely be watching it again, especially when I need to constantly ask "WILL THEY JUST GET TOGETHER ALREADY?" (Because that's a thing I need in life, apparently) Be prepared for major second lead syndrome!

MZ Review (spoilers): I'm not crying YOU'RE crying

CW: Sexual Assault

We meet our heroine, Liang Mu Cheng, as she is trying to transport an expensive fish back to her family, who have designs to use it in a VIP's lunch. The VIP, of course, is none other than the president of the university where Mu Cheng's family now runs the cafeteria. She is warned as she sets out on her journey that the fish needs to be brought home in a certain time, otherwise it will go bad and will not be suitable to be served to such an important person.

With this warning she hops on the bus to her house, which is stopped dead in its tracks by a couple in a fancy sports car ahead of them. Desperate to arrive home on time, Mu Cheng decides to intervene. That is when Ren Guang Xi, the driver of the sports car, is introduced.

What ensues from this point on is in turn touching and traumatic, yet it manages to toe the balance between them, as any good drama does. Yet I do have to say that if I didn't love the characters I would have major issues with the plot lines in this show. Mostly because of the use of sexual assault/trauma over and over again.

I would say its definitely worth watching even with this in mind. The characters are SO GOOD. Not so much in a character development way, but in an exaggerated personality way. Take Mu Cheng for example-- she is the ultimate martyr. Time and time again through the show, she makes the decision to sacrifice for others over herself. While this could get annoying, I appreciated that she was consistent. You know what to expect from her, which is a lot more than you can say for a lot of other main leads.

The best (or worst) part of the love triangle was that I had MAJOR second-lead syndrome from the jump. Hua Tuo Ye is so cute and wholesome, despite the hard edge he tries to portray as a farmer who isn't afraid to throw hands when necessary. We should really call him Hua "I'm his human dad while his alien dad isn't here" Tuo Ye. When he said that to Liang Xiao Le, my heart MELTED. I knew the entire time there was no chance for him and Mu Cheng to end up together, especially since he was already the "big boss" of the house, but I HOPED. At the same time, I couldn't be too mad about this development, because SIX YEARS? Dude, you have to make a move in that time. C'mon.

Everything between Ren Guang Xi and Liang Mu Cheng developed as I expected, so it was nice to watch their love overcome the multiple hurdles that were placed in their way. The only thing that I hadn't really predicted was the way Guang Xi's mom would develop. She starts off as your typical chaebol mom who wants to control the life of her kids, but ends up a loving grandma. I was surprised since I thought she was going to be evil the whole time. So it's not 100% true none of the characters had any development, but I'd say its still pretty accurate.

I'm really glad I watched this show! It was a journey from beginning to end, and as promised the next stop is happiness!

[aeionastrologyandtarot]

 Devil in The Details: Mercury Retrograde in Virgo

Devil in The Details: Mercury Retrograde in Virgo This retrograde found me sitting in front of a medical center waiting for a deliver service to pick me up, in a malfunctioning wheelchair. I spent hours calling a call center to connect me with a driver who would pick me up. While I tend avoid personal matters in my forcast, wanting you to view the transit from your own personal lens, my recent surgery urges me to share my perspective with regard to the nature of all transits and this one in particular. We understand the planets through our own experiences and observations. The astrologer can only provide the framework what you may encounter. Retrogrades are times of personal reflection and review, where we evaulate our lives from the now clinical way and from the position of a human being who past decisions and effort demand reappraise and context. Mercury Retrograde will begin on Thursday, August 23th. It will remain in the sign of Virgo for the whole of the transitt. It ends on Friday September 15 at EDT, and 1:21 pm PDT..

Virgo is a sign that are governed or under the direct influence of the planet, Mercury. Virgo (Earth) represents thought applied with pragmatic, practical approach to the physical world. Stickler for rules, Virgo is able break things down to their components, determining how they work and what ways will make them work better. Virgo, as a sign, can be practical, hardworking, supportive and observant. They can also be hypercritical, demanding, insincere and preoccupied.

Mercury Retrogrades is a time of reflection and review, where one is encouraged to reexamine important past issues. During the transit, your daily routines may be shaken up; you may encounter mental challenges, or be required to make some alternate plans regarding some daily matters. Expect to be distracted and made to improvise a great deal into the coming weeks. You may find unpredictability and randomness to be the order of the day.

This transit will ask that you re-examine and re-evaluate some important questions of your life. Determine where you’ve allowed rote, mechanical thinking to supplant your intuition or sense of spontaneity. You may possibly revisit a past experience in service to fostering an exciting new one. Remember, Retrogrades are not the time to initiate new endeavors, but review past ones. The information you uncover from revisiting issues from the past will serve you in good stead in weeks following the end of the transit on September 15th.

Mercury retrogrades are notorious for their affect upon devices of planning and communication. Telephones, computers, written message and contracts may experience problems during its passage. Try not to initiate new projects or make commitment wherever possible at this time. Keep your focus upon existing concerns instead. In light of this transit it might be in your best interest to get a second opinion or an outside observer to help review your work. Reach out to those you trust and support your research with another set of eyes.

Virgos, This retrograde is not about what you need to do, but about what have you not yet done. It will ask you to look back upon previous efforts, determining if they can help you in the future. Rediscoveries you’ll make in the coming weeks may feed and renew concerns you are truly passionate about.

Pisces, at this time, expect important breakthroughs to occur, especially with regards to your personal plans. Rather than choosing a specific course, allow yourself to explore a variety of possibilities. Once the retrograde ends you’ll possess a wide array of knowledge that will help you make best the possible choice in service to your plans. Let your internal cues provide the answer you will need.

Gemini and Sagittarius, This retrograde may ask you to revisit some past matter and to determine its importance to your future. You may have to confront a dilemma that cannot be easily overlooked or ignored. Unraveling the knot that Mercury presents you with may prove highly productive, even cathartic.

In the next few weeks get in touch with your humanity, both acknowledging your frailties and allowing for a new perspectives. Spend time in spiritual practices and creative endeavors during this period. Any creative projects should prove helpful and instructive at this time. You should dwell upon things that predate the retrograde and be mindful of starting any new works during this period.

Mercury Retrograde in Virgo may provide solutions to questions that honor the life you want to live. Listen to your inner truth and this transit may set you upon a course to an existence that is productive, bright and vigorous.

Aeion is a professional astrologer and tarot card reader with 20 years of experience. His approach is based in the belief that divination should be in employed to enhance ones' life experiences, not to predetermine them. Let Astrology and Tarot be your tools for better living.

[icharchivist]

"Percy villain arc", does Aglovale mean nothing to you people

You're right though, it would be funny to see Percy go truly evil. The fire association is super common in villains. Making it hot in several senses. You're completely valid

LIKE I SAID -- it's about a different type of villainy!! the brothers may look alike but they're not interchangeable!!!!

Aglovale's villainy came from an hatred of all of humanity, a desire to control people out of fear, and a desire to get his family back, including his mother.

Lamorak's villainy came from selflessness, a desire to help absolutely everyone who ever experienced massive heart pain that can only be solved by revenge, a savior complex so big he ends up helping the most dangerous of people, while putting himself in danger and therefore also keeping his family as far away as possible from him so he doesn't get swayed into going back on his words.

A Percival's villainy arc would never be like Aglovale's because Percival never let go of his desire to see good in people, and he wouldn't keep his family away like Lamorak.

Like i said i do think it's a bit hard to see a path to villainy Percival can take when his brothers went to both different extreme to start with. I think what makes Percival's arc strong is that he's not tempted by snapping, and that he is holding strong despite the fact he sees how his brothers are torn apart by the same trauma they all share.

I personally love the fact Percival doesn't seem to be in any situation to snap, but i like thinking about what if he did actually go apeshit. What if he got tired of fixing his brothers' shit. He's constantly having to clean up after them because they mishandled their trauma while he is trying so hard to make it something productive.

And it's not like Percival doesn't have a mean edge. Remember when he insulted Lancelot when they found him in a cell after he's been tortured, because Lancelot "only had himself to blame" for turning a blind eye to the wrongs of the King? and that it essentially came from how he's been hurt that Lancelot abandonned him during the Siegfried's debacle and the fact Lancelot blindly supporting people in position of power rather than getting to the bottom of something was something Percival found reprehensible. (i have many thoughts about this).

That's why i think two componants to break Percival is if the weight of his brothers' sins get lifted off his back, so he's less alert to his own shortcomings as he's no longer in this state of survival about holding his family together, and losing MC, which would set him in a situation of thinking "despite everything i do i still lose the people i care about." (especially, once again, because MC is the only person who never disappointed Percival, which is why Percival always was so unconditional in his way to be attached to MC, in ways even the Dragon Knights nor his Brothers can live up to.)

It's like "you can do everything right and still lose", in comparaison to his brothers who just did things wrong.

how do you deal? how do you cope? this grief was supposed to stay in the past, yet whatever you do it still comes back to catch up on you.

there's a potential there that is completely unlike what Aglovale and Lamorak went through in their own villain arcs, and it's what i'd personally explore if we give Percival an evil arc.

It'd be hot! especially if it's about MC which i have totally neutral reasons to want personally obviously.

But as it is i just really like the idea of him being the only one to keep things together while the familial trauma is destroying the rest of his family. Feels nice feels organic and i'm just genuinely invested in this storyline, is all!

[thebreakfastgenie]

for WIP asks the 4th of july fic.

and ik you were already quite generous with it but would love to hear anything else about 69

Sorry it took so long to get to this one! I was really excited about it and then I was either too busy or too tired to answer it properly!

The 4th of July fic my take on a time loop. It's contained within GFA. Hawkeye relives July 4th, 1953, over and over again, trying desperately to prevent tragedy on the bus, while no one else remembers. I was actually influenced a lot by Slaughterhouse-5, even though it's not a time loop. Billy Pilgrim is unstuck in time and sometimes that means he's living his post war life and wakes up back in the bombing of Dresden. That's certainly what PTSD can feel like. So I started thinking about how I could use a time loop as a narrative device.

The time loop takes the emotional experience of reliving a traumatic event over and over again in your mind, of being trapped in that moment, and makes it a physical one. A common component of time loop stories is that the protagonist must prevent something terrible from happening, and only when the bad outcome is averted will the loop be broken. This, too, reflects an emotional experience, the constant "what could I have done differently? how could I have stopped this?" Maybe the real time loop was the trauma we had along the way.

In this case, Hawkeye is trying to save the lives of everyone on the bus. I don't want to say too much about the loop, because part of the story is going to be figuring that out as Hawkeye does. Just as the loop is about trauma, breaking the time loop is about moving forward. This fic gets very heavy and dark towards the middle, but it's not a pure angst fic, it's just what the story requires. In the end I would say it's about choosing hope.

The idea is basically what if GFA was a time loop, and we only saw one iteration of it? That means it's fairly canon-compliant. I'm also trying to incorporate a lot of details from GFA. I can't share a snippet, but I'm hoping to finish it by July 4th, 70 years after the day it's set, so if I manage it you'll see it soon!

****

I am more than happy to share more about untitled 69. I'm trying to motivate myself to work on it, at least once 4th of july is done. I had a ton of momentum on it a few months ago and then I got sick and it got left in this very chaotic, mid-draft-reorganization state. This fic was supposed to just open with Trapper at the reception for the new chief of thoracic surgery, where he meets Charles, but in true me fashion, I ended up getting into Trapper's homecoming and emotional state and in the process writing about a bunch of stuff that happened earlier. One thing I'm excited about is how Trapper relates (or doesn't) to his colleagues. He has one friend who's close enough to know about Hawkeye, because I needed someone to bounce Trapper off of in dialogue, and I really love the dynamic that developed between them. I don't think this snippet is as good as the last one, but:

Trapper tugged at his collar. He was having trouble breathing, though he knew that had more to do with the fog of cigarette smoke than the snugness of his tuxedo. If Louise were here, she would scold him—it had taken her ages to get his bowtie right—but she wasn’t here, so she could keep her comments to herself.  Louise hated these things almost as much as he did. Working class girls either grew up into women who loved glamor or hated it, and Louise had never seen any use for it. It was one of the things he loved best about her, and probably what drew him to the nurses in Korea, besides proximity—their short fingernails and practical attitudes. 

This is Trapper being miserable at the party (more on that later!) and me fleshing out both him and Louise a little bit.

[taiblogcomics]

Apex Predator

Hey there, shaving nicks. Well, we're on our last issue of this batch of Avengers Arena reviews! We'll take another short break to cleanse our palate again--I have something very nice lined up for that--and then we'll do the last six issues over the course of the summer. After that... Well, who knows~? One travesty at a time, please.

Here's the cover:

Hazmat, dear, I don't think you should be watering the trees with blood. It's not healthy for them--in fact, you could say it makes them sick-amore. I know you took the time to dig out your little tournament bracket to fill with blood in order to do so, but... Just sayin'. Maybe you didn't need to spend the time to do that. Speaking of, this whole thing probably would've gone a lot smoother if Arcade had used a bracketed gladiator tournament model instead of the battle royale format. It was 2013! Battle royale games weren't even in vogue yet! If you just waited a couple years, Arcade, you could've invented Fortnite! Alas, we have only this to ridicule him for~

So last time, Hazmat got her groove back, and she and Reptil joined the others in going to look into what happened to Nico. Unfortunately, what happened to Nico was Apex, who we now have to endure as our narrator for this issue. And she starts with some pretentious twaddle about how "no one thinks they're the villain of their own story", and asking us who the villain of this story is. Is it her? Is it Arcade? Is it the superhero community that let this happen? Is it the audience who keeps this going? No, I'm pretty sure it's you, dear. You're the one murdering people.

And speaking of people she murdered, we cut over to Nico lying in the snow. Suddenly some purple energy crackles off the Staff of One, slurps into Nico's orifices, and raises her from the dead--and off her feet. The Runaways were probably the third-biggest name in this series after X-23 and Reptil, you didn't really think she was staying dead, did you? She's about to show everyone exactly why too much pink energy is dangerous, as she finishes reviving and takes off flying in a huge colourful cloud of flames.

Apex is still monologuing about her dreck, starting on about how Murderworld isn't a story, it's a game. Arcade said so! And that games don't have heroes or villains, just winners and losers. Oh, she's one of those folks who thinks games are just pure numbers and haven't evolved since the arcade days. She's also listening to Arcade, so she's definitely an idiot. Thankfully, Nico shows up to put a stop to her garbage musings. She then uses her wand to collect up all the forest fire and redirect it at Apex. Smokey would be proud~

Speaking of Arcade, we cut over to him being a smug douchebag, eating popcorn as he enjoys Nico's attack on Apex. Hey, man, you may have set up this scenario, but this isn't for you. He does, at least, helpfully exposit about Nico's new power-up. See, the Staff of One usually requires a blood sacrifice for her to use. A couple drops is sufficient. But she died. That's about as much blood as you can sacrifice. So the Staff's rebuilt her from the ground up (even regrew her missing arm) and filled her with as much magic as it can muster.

Apex is taken aback because she thought she already killed Nico, but she's happy to try it again. She breaks into her stupid villain monologue again, thinking maybe she's the hero because she's the only one playing Murderworld by its rules. "Villains hate rules", she says, completely failing to acknowledge that Lawful Evil is a legitimate alignment. Anyways, "maybe I'm not the villain here" is a valid line of thought. "Maybe I'm the hero here because I'm the only one killing people" is definitely not.

The battle rages on. Nico uses a spell to simply reduce Deathlocket's arm cannon to its component pieces, removing her lethality from the fight. The Darkhawk powers are a bit more complicated, so she then hits Chase with a hard enough blast to return him to his sense--for a moment. Chasehawk returns fire, and Apex snatches the Staff of One in the moment, starting a gloat. But Nico just recalls the Staff with a word, to Apex's surprise, and then just closes the dirt up and around Apex, taking her out.

Chase is returned to his senses again, and he tries to apologise. Nico doesn't want to deal with that right now, though, and she just wants to sit with him quietly for a bit. Meanwhile, the dirt that swallowed up Apex and Deathlocket has dumped the pair into some underground facility. Locket also returns to her senses, while Apex remains limp and lifeless. Sneaking around a bit, Deathlocket finds a room full of the preserved bodies of the other Murderworld victims, among other science experiments. She realises where she is: Arcade's inner sanctum...

This is what I’m gonna call a catharsis issue. Once the smug douche is done smugging it up, they get their very justified beatdown by someone we like, and the world returns to good things again. Hopefully it won’t be the last one of the series, I can think of another smug douche who also needs his beatdown. Otherwise, a pretty all right issue. Resurrected a character, beat up the insufferable jackass, and end on a bit of mystery.

Now we have only six issues left! But next week, as stated above, I’ve got a couple things on the back-burner to tide us over. Why ruin this good feeling~?

[kaylhayden]

Cleaning tips for home with large freezer

A large freezer is a lifesaver for storing bulk groceries, meal preps, and all your favorite frozen goodies. But let’s be honest—when was the last time you gave it a proper deep clean? If your freezer has become a frosty jungle of forgotten leftovers and mystery spills, it might be time for a refresh. Don’t worry, though—cleaning it doesn’t have to be a daunting task. With a little effort and some simple steps, your freezer can stay fresh, organized, and odor-free.

First things first, you’ll want to empty out the entire freezer. Yes, everything. If you’ve got perishable items that can’t sit out for too long, consider transferring them to a cooler with ice packs while you work. This is also the perfect opportunity to check expiration dates and toss anything that’s been in there way too long. You’d be surprised at how many freezer-burned mystery meals might be lurking in the back!

Once the freezer is empty, it’s time to defrost if you notice a thick buildup of ice. Some modern freezers have an automatic defrost function, but if yours doesn’t, unplug it and let the ice melt naturally. You can speed up the process by placing bowls of hot water inside or using a plastic scraper to gently break up ice chunks. Whatever you do, avoid metal tools—they can damage the interior.

With the ice gone, grab some mild dish soap or a mix of baking soda and warm water, and start wiping down the walls, shelves, and drawers. Freezers can accumulate spills from leaky bags or broken containers, and these can turn into stubborn stains if left untreated. If you’re dealing with any lingering odors, placing an open box of baking soda inside once everything is clean can help absorb any bad smells.

Organization is key when putting everything back. Instead of just tossing items in haphazardly, try grouping similar foods together—vegetables in one section, meats in another, and frozen treats in their own space. Using labeled bins or baskets can help keep things tidy and make it easier to grab what you need without having to dig through a mountain of frozen items.

Even with regular upkeep, deep cleaning a large freezer can be time-consuming, and let’s be real—sometimes you just don’t have the energy for it. That’s where Maids on Duty comes in. As the best oven and refrigerator cleaning service in Tennessee, they take the hassle out of maintaining your kitchen appliances. Their team of professionals knows exactly how to deep clean a freezer without damaging its components, ensuring it stays spotless and odor-free.

A well-maintained freezer not only looks better but also functions more efficiently. Frost buildup and spills can make your appliance work harder than it needs to, increasing energy costs. Regular cleaning helps it run smoothly, keeps your food fresh, and prevents funky smells from taking over.

So, if your freezer is overdue for a deep clean, set aside some time, roll up your sleeves, and give it the refresh it deserves. And if you’d rather leave it to the experts, Maids on Duty is just a call away. Their team will have your freezer looking brand new in no time, so you can get back to enjoying all the frozen meals, snacks, and ice cream your heart desires!