#IMAGINE THEM PLAYING LITTLE ILLUSION MACHINE
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Hi Meraki!
Can you draw Carapaces at different points in their lifespan? I wanna see babies, kids, and the elderly chess pieces.
Sure bro. here are some chess people and some headcanons i have
🧸👶BABIES!👶🧸
It's not confirmed if carapace can reproduce naturally or if they can only multiply using the ectobiology machines.
On sburb, the chess people are born as adults and with a specific purpose, with a barcode on their wrist to identify the, i guess, model. So there are no babies on Prospit or Derse.
The babies the players made in the post credits would be the first carapace children to exist.
I headcanon that they're born with a full set of teeth that fall eventually, like with any other child.
They're a little more squishy than an adult carapace but less than a human baby
i also though it'd be cool if sometimes they got black or white spots
(Also, even if chess people remember living for years before the arrival of the players, they effectively began to exist the moment the first player enters the game, those memories being an illusion, same as how, when you buy a game and turn it on, the NPCs might tell you about their childhood, when in reality, they were never kids in the real world, they were rendered as adults for the purpose of being there in the game. The same happens with the chess people)
🎈🎀KIDS🚀🪁
Like before, there are no carapace children in sburb, but I imagine they would be the quiet type of kids. Not necessarily shy, but not very talkative.
They would have a lot of energy and due to their physical endurance, they would play outside a lot, sometimes a little too rough with the human and troll kids
⚽⛱️TEENS🎮👗
I guess this is the period where they would become more vocal.
Also, I can see many of them using a lot of hats/accessories as a form of self-expression.
Suction-cup accessories would be their own version of hair clips and scrunchies
👠👓ADULTS💍🎓
They're the strongest, a lot of them have more pointy features than their teenage counterparts, some may retain the round face into adulthood, but they would still be sturdier than a teen. Their hands have now fully developed claws. They aren't strong enough to open a can, but they can hurt
EarthC adult carapace specifically would be more talkative than Sburb's carapace. Also, not having a predetermined role to fulfill, they would be more similar to humans. If you dropped one of them on one of the sburb moon, they would stand out a lot.
🌙SBURB CARAPACE🌙
Just some apreciation of the canon characters.
i love them to death
👨🏻🦳ELDER👩🏻🦳
Last but not least, the elderly carapace. Sburb carapace didn't seem able to age, or at least they did so very slowly, because their purpose was to live long enough to act as sort of guides to the players after being exiled.
I suppose they can grow old eventually, specially the ones born outside the game, as babies, they most likely have a shorter lifespan that their Prospit/Derse counterparts.
Probably you can tell they're old because of the damage to their external carapace, which isn't as hard as it used to and their posture, product of time taking a tool on them.
As for wrinkles, they're only visible in their faces, which are softer for facial expression, but they don't even get that many
(also, just so you know i cried drawing the chicken grampa carapace, he knows his wife loves birds so he bought her a chicken, that's not exactly the kind of bird she expected but loves it regarthless, the chicken's name is gertrude, the grampa loves gertrude, she's a shicken orb, a chorb if you will. they're all happy, i would die for chicken-grampa)
And that's all, that's how I imagine EarthC carapace work. They're not so different from the Sburb carapace, but they get to experience growing up and deciding what to do with their lives.
i really love the species and i want to explore them more in the casu epilogue
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The First Time, Every Time: Eve
Rated X / 2567 words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic
She feels like a world class idiot, partly due to being manipulated by a pair of homicidal eight year olds. But they managed to pull one over on everyone—including their own parents—so she can’t hold herself too much at fault there. What’s really bothering her is that she knew, or at least had her suspicions, that something was off with the girls, and she let her guard down anyway. She ignored her instincts, and it nearly got both her and Mulder killed.
She sinks down onto the bed in her motel room and rubs her hands roughly over her face, cringing at the memory of how stupid she was. How naive. How uncharacteristically girlish. Allowing herself the tiny thrill of playing house with Mulder while the Eves were under their watch backfired gloriously, and as intelligent as the children are she has to imagine that was their intent. They capitalized on the vulnerability they saw in their adult escorts, stopping just short of directly calling them Mom and Dad, and it had worked so well it almost landed her in the autopsy bay. If a couple of prepubescent psychopaths can see it, it must be fairly obvious that she has a teensy little crush on Mulder. Hell, he’s a behavioral profiler, so it must be obvious to him, too.
It’s not that she has any illusions that something might happen between them, and she honestly wouldn’t even want it to. They’re completely incompatible, and that’s to say nothing for the potential impact to her career were she to act on her urges. But he’s cute, and he only got cuter when he was playing the role of doting father, ushering his gaggle of girls into the truck stop for a bathroom break and a soda. Maybe she flirted a little, and maybe he flirted back, and those damn Eves saw right through them. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
She knows that it’s Mulder knocking on her door, and she briefly considers pretending that she’s not in. But it’s late—or early, depending how you look at it—and he has the keys to the rental, so where else would she be? She hauls herself up off the bed and reluctantly opens the door just wide enough for him to see her face.
“Soda?” he asks, holding up a can of Diet Rite from the vending machine. “Factory sealed for your safety,” he adds, wiggling the can temptingly.
She smirks, despite her best attempts to suppress it, and opens the door the rest of the way. Mulder walks in and sets the soda down in front of the TV, along with a second that he fishes out of the pocket of his suit jacket, and gives her an appraising look.
“Wild night, huh?” he says, popping the tab on one of the cans.
An hour ago she was sure she’d never drink soda again, but the crack and hiss of the can opening sets off a Pavlovian response, making her mouth water. Mulder hands it to her and she takes an experimental sip. Not too sweet.
“That’s one way of putting it,” she says.
She sits on the end of the bed and he plops down beside her, close enough that his thigh brushes up against hers before he scoots millimeters away. He has a particular end-of-day smell that’s becoming familiar to her: remnants of cologne and deodorant, and the damp salted musk of sunflower seed hulls that line the bottom of his jacket pocket. She has an overwhelming urge to lean into him, but she doesn’t.
“You okay?” he asks, and she looks up at him sharply, wondering what he sees that she hadn’t meant to show him.
“Yes,” she says, perhaps a little too emphatically. “I was just thinking about Cindy Reardon’s mother. I have no idea how we’re going to explain this to her.”
“You don’t think she knew?” he wonders aloud. “Maybe on some subconscious level?”
Scully shrugs and looks at the floor.
“That little girl was the embodiment of all her hopes and dreams,” she says sadly. “Even if she knew something was off, she probably explained it away. I know I did.”
She feels him looking at her, but she keeps her eyes on the faded paisley carpet under her feet.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” she says, pulling in a deep breath, “that I knew something was off about the girls, but I attributed it to the recent trauma they’d been through. I allowed my preconceptions about what innocent-looking eight year old girls are capable of to override my instincts, with nearly disastrous results.”
He bumps his shoulder against hers and she looks up at him to find a deliciously boyish smile on his face.
“Don’t go stealing all the credit, Scully,” he says, leaning in. “I demand that my contributions to the truck stop disaster be accounted for.”
His breath smells sweet and his cheeks are becoming rough with stubble. She smiles, and his smile broadens in response. He really is very charming, and she doesn’t get the sense that it’s disingenuous.
“And which contributions were those?” she asks cheekily.
“Well, for starters, slapping that soda out of your hand,” he says ruefully. “Not my smoothest move.”
“Fair enough, though in any future circumstances where you see me actively drinking poison, you have my blessing to slap it out of my hand,” she counters.
“Actually,” he says, sitting up, “I think my real mistake was saying I wanted to open your door for you. Way too unbelievable; even eight year olds know that chivalry is dead.”
She studies the side of his face while he takes a long drink of his soda, trying to decide if he’s being facetious.
“You’re actually quite chivalrous, Mulder,” she says, careful with her tone so that he doesn’t think she’s teasing him. “You open doors for me all the time. The only odd thing about it was announcing your intention to do so across a parking lot.”
He gives her a long sideways glance that sets off a nervous flutter in her belly, though she couldn’t say why.
“Does that bother you?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice. “Is it too patriarchal?”
“No,” she says immediately, and she can instantly see relief in his face. “Maybe it would if I felt like you didn’t respect me, or saw me as inferior, but you’ve never made me feel that way.”
She watches him fight off a prideful little smile before he lifts his soda can and hides it behind a drink. When he lowers the can back to his lap, his mouth is arranged into a neatly neutral expression.
“Can I confess something?” he asks, his eyes flitting between her face and the wall behind her.
Her stomach does a backflip and her mouth goes dry. She takes a drink of her soda before answering
“Sure.”
“When we were with the Eves, I kept thinking about Samantha,” he says, pausing to gauge her reaction. She’s surprised, though she shouldn’t be; the Eves are eight, the same age Samantha was when she was taken. She smiles at him sadly, and he lowers his head. “It probably contributed to me not picking up on some red flags,” he continues. “I think I was having a little too much fun with it.”
She can’t allow him to wallow in his shame alone, as much as it terrifies her to consider admitting to her own flights of fancy regarding Mulder, herself, and a couple of kids. She slides one hand over his back and gives him a reassuring pat.
“It was kind of fun,” she admits. “Until it wasn’t, anyway. And you were really good with them, Mulder.”
When he lifts his head to look at her, his face is much closer to hers than she was prepared for, and she resists the urge to move away. His eyes lock on hers and her heart picks up a little, anticipating something.
“You really think so?” he asks, his eyes narrowing in self-doubt.
Scully swallows and nods.
“Yeah,” she says, but her voice comes out in a barely audible rasp.
Two beats pass. Three. It starts to become awkward. It feels like they’re waiting for something, but neither of them appears to know what. By the fourth beat it’s unbearable and she looks away, withdrawing her hand from his back.
“I should let you go,” she says, her entire body humming.
“You kicking me out?” he asks playfully. “You have a boy coming over?”
She looks at him sharply.
“What? No,” she says insistently, finding herself extremely bothered by the idea that he’d think that.
Mulder laughs and shakes his head as he stands, tossing his empty soda can into the wastebasket and then holding his hand out to her. Slowly, cautiously, she slips her hand into his. For a second he doesn’t do anything, but then his fingers close around hers and he pulls her up in one sharp tug, and she lets out a surprised squeal just before the front of her body crashes into his. She wraps her other arm around his waist to avoid losing her balance, the half-empty soda can still in her hand, and then looks up at his face.
He’s smirking devilishly, his hooded eyes full of mischief, and she suddenly feels like prey that’s fallen into his trap. The rational part of her mind is warning her to put a stop to this immediately, but she’s too hypnotized by the hungry way he’s looking at her to move. They’re pressed together from chest to pelvis, though their height difference means that his belt buckle is digging into her belly button, his groin bracketed by her hip bones.
“I was just offering to take your can,” he says, a little bit sheepishly, and Scully feels the hot rush of embarrassment flood through her veins. Too ensnared to quickly get away, she drops her forehead against his chest to hide her face.
“Oh,” she says, her eyes screwed shut tight and her mouth grimacing. “Sorry.”
She feels the vibration of Mulder’s chuckle in her skull, and then his hand running from between her shoulder blades to the small of her back. She shivers involuntarily, and he pulls her increments closer.
“Don’t be,” he says, the pitch of his voice deeper than moments before.
He doesn’t let go, and neither does she. Their joined hands are still pinned between the front of her shoulder and his rib cage, her soda-carrying arm wrapped around his waist. His hand on her back shifts down a little, and she only realizes that her body has at some point drawn an invisible line that Mulder’s casual touches never cross when he crosses it. She feels her skin tingle just above the crack of her ass, and she slowly lifts her head off his chest.
His expression is somewhat vacant, his eyes zeroed in on her mouth. She lifts her chin and closes her eyes, allowing herself to believe that she won’t be responsible for what happens next. When she feels the heat of his mouth against hers, she begins to melt and simply doesn’t stop.
Her body softens and leans into his, her neck bending languidly to the side as his lips warm her skin. She keeps her eyes carefully closed, suspending her own reality and receiving whatever reality this is. The one where a man who she trusts implicitly, who respects her, who looks damn good in a suit and tie, is tugging her blouse out of the waist of her slacks and running his rough fingertips up her bare back. The one where he asks for her consent half a dozen times, and she gives it over and over. The one where he strikes the perfect balance of dominance and deference, where he picks her up like she’s made of air and lays her down on the bed, then turns the lights off without her having to ask.
It’s not that she has any illusions that it’s more than sex, and she honestly wouldn’t even want it to be. They’re completely incompatible, and that’s to say nothing for the potential impact to her career were she to become entangled in some kind of romantic relationship with her partner. But he’s cute, and he eats pussy like a god, and when she finally gets her hands on his dick she’s unable to stop herself from moaning in anticipation.
They don’t have a condom, but she’s still on birth control after her breakup with Ethan, and she trusts him to pull out. She also trusts him when he tells her he hasn’t been with anyone in years, that he’s been tested. She trusts him with her body, her life. She trusts him more than she’s ever trusted any man she’s allowed inside her.
He stretches her wide and she gasps from the pain, her fingernails digging into his shoulder. He stops, waiting until he feels her relax, and then rocks his hips slowly as she adjusts to him. She can’t comprehend how instinctively he touches her, how well he seems to know her body after such a brief introduction. He teases her to the edge and back more times than she can count until she finally shatters into a fit of gasps and wails, every cell in her body taking part in her orgasm. He pulls out of her sharply, the thick head of his cock brushing against the sensitive nerve endings around her opening and setting her off again as she feels the wet heat of his cum streaking across her belly. He slumps down beside her and they catch their breath in the murky dark, still too hopped up on dopamine to consider the impact of what they’ve just done.
Eventually, Mulder feels his way into the bathroom for a towel, but instead of handing it to her he presses it between her legs, gently swiping up and then mopping his semen off her belly. It’s so tender, it catches her off guard, and she suddenly worries whether this means something to him that she’s not ready for.
“Mulder—” she starts, but he lays a heavy hand on her naked hip to quiet her.
“It’s okay,” he says, not sounding nearly as concerned as she does. “Wild night.”
Scully heaves a relieved sigh, nodding in the dark.
“Yes. Wild night,” she agrees.
He waits until she’s dressed to turn on the bedside lamp, and they both squint as their eyes adjust. He’s still shirtless, his pants on but unbuttoned, and she’s surprised to feel her clit throb at the sight of him. He smiles at her fondly, plucking her soda can off the floor and tossing it into the trash can with his.
“See you tomorrow?” he asks, pulling on his undershirt.
“Yep,” she says.
It’s a little bit awkward, but not as much as she would have thought.
She sits on the bed as she watches him leave, precluding an attempt at a goodnight kiss, and he pauses halfway through the door, looking back at her expectantly.
“What?” she asks, a flush of worry making her belly tighten. Maybe this was a mistake.
“You were really good with them too. The Eves, I mean,” he says, a nervous smile on his mouth. “You’re a natural.”
“Thank you, Mulder,” she says, feeling her cheeks warm. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he says, and then he is gone.
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I despise Draxum and look forward to the chapter where the consequences his actions catch up with him and he learns that it was HIS decisions that got him there. But DAMIT! Why does he have to be such a good father! Agrh!
I really feel bad for Splinter, I can already imagine what a self hating mess he will be (more than he already is) when Raph comes back I heard how Draxum was a much better father to his children than he was, Ignoring how Draxum had so many more advantages and didn't have to deal with four super soldier babies barely coming out of an abusive situation not to mention a new body.
I wondered if Draxum and Raph would argue over Splinter's parenting. Going back to the chapter of the fight between Draxum and Leo you notice Draxum's narcissistic side when he comments that they could have been a family if it wasn't for Lou running off with the babies like he did without once giving himself a thought that there might have been a reason why he did it. I mean, if you tell someone you're going to create children to use as weapons it's not uncommon to think that person will see you as a bad guy.
Oh, Draxum is under no illusions that he didn't cause all his own problems. Which just makes it all that much worse. He can yell at Leo and curse Splinter and lash out at everyone else, but ultimately he knows that he's there because of the choices he made. And he might argue that he didn't have a choice, that he had to do XYZ or else everyone was going to die anyway, but still.
Another thing, the 'good' timeline he proposes where Splinter didn't take the boys and they just all stayed a happy family forever-that's a fantasy and he knows it. He knows that there was no set of events that would have ended with him married to Lou Jitsu and raising their 4+ kids together in a happy little domestic setting. Lou Jitsu did not love him. He never would have approved of Draxum's plan, there was no magical set of words Draxum could have used to explain his reasoning that would cause Lou to accept what he was doing and consent to using his kids for it. He would have had to hide Lou and the existence of the boys from Big Mama-like, that's something a lot of 'Splinter and Draxum parenthood AUs forget, she would be tearing the city apart looking for him and would have drooled over getting her hands on his genetically enhanced, superwarrior children.
Even in a timeline where he solved these problems, he still would have been raising his sons to fight. Yes, he would have educated them and let them play and tried to raise them as well-rounded people who could find purpose and have lives after the war was done, but like-he'd still be watching his five-year-old sons run around karate-chopping each other and giggling and would suddenly be overwhelmed by the knowledge that this training would one day form the base of the killing machines they were supposed to be. That his sweet kids would one day be on the front lines of a war that had destroyed so many like them, that they'd kill and suffer and might even die for it. Even in his fantasy world, Draxum knows he would not have peace.
#idk if this even makes sense#my doctor messed up my meds again so my brain has not been right lately#did get my meds today though so hopefully my brain will be braining again soon#doth asks#baron draxum
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Bequest, NC-17, Frank/Billy, 660 w, canon compliant
After their first tour together, Billy and Frank rented a tiny rundown house in North Carolina because Billy didn’t want to live in the barracks and Frank couldn’t, since he wasn’t a bachelor. The ancient leather couch was a rescue from a yard sale.
It cost them 20 bucks after successful joint haggling, and for a year it was the centerpiece of their crappy little living room. They slept on it, ate on it, bled on it, played cards on it and just parked their asses on it and talked. That couch earned its keep.
When it was time to give up the house, Frank sweet-talked a mechanic from Bronx into lending him her truck, and drove the old fleabag couch all the way up to his family’s house. Frank could be sentimental like that. For the next few years, the couch sat in Frank’s garage, and he and Billy made use of it every time Billy came over. Chewing the fat over cans of cold beer, that sort of thing.
After Frank died, Billy inherited the couch. Frank made it a point in his will. Billy found out right after the funeral, when he was still under the illusion he could leave Frank behind. When he heard the news from Frank’s mother-in-law, he almost laughed in her face. Why the fuck would Billy want that old piece of junk? He told her he wasn't interested, and then spent that evening and half the night worrying she might have already thrown it away or given it to someone else. It had always been their couch, and now Frank was gone, it was Billy’s couch, and he wanted it. Boy, how he wanted it.
Billy collected the couch and set it up in his study. He had a study now. Would wonders never cease. He spent the night there sometimes, on the couch. It was too short to accommodate all of him, but otherwise fantastically comfortable. The smell of beer, machine oil and old sweat was overpowering in the dark, when he had nothing to distract him.
Billy could call to mind so many images in that empty darkness. The exact shape of Frank’s erection from that time he walked in on Frank jerking off to porn on their couch. It was still their couch then.
Billy’s catlike thread has always served him well. It bought him a few precious seconds to drink in the sight of Frank. The sweat glittering on his neck. His tight abs where he’d lazily pushed his t-shirt out of the way to facilitate clean-up. The dark hair trail on his lower belly. The fat, angry-red dick poking out of Frank’s fist. It was long, definitely longer than Billy’s but it was hard to judge by how much because it was also fucking thick.
Billy had glimpsed Frank’s dick before, out of the corner of his eye in restrooms and communal showers, and man but it definitely lived up to that promise. It was the kind of dick that fit Frank’s animal physicality, a dick made for hard fucking, for fucking on instinct after a violent fight for superiority that Frank won. The thought flashed in Billy’s mind that he couldn’t imagine Frank using it right on a nice twiggy Catholic woman like Maria, who liked to play boss in that family. Frank’s cock was wasted on her.
Then Billy’s mind caught up and reminded him that he was straight and had no reason to gawk at dicks, and when in a split second Frank opened his eyes, Billy reacted perfectly. He went “shit, sorry, man” and backed out at the exact right speed to seem sorry but not like he had a reason to be running away.
Billy didn't jerk off on the couch. He sure as shit didn't fuck women on it. He didn't even invite Curtis for a drink in the study.
He had to preserve the smell for as long as he could.
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AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹 god I love these dumb men so much
Via marcelacastelli on twitter
Miles walking up to the mic and Alex like during the TLSP times 😭
The first time in 5 years that these two Grace a stage with their shared presence 🥹 but also how grown up and different they both look while still seeming like the exact same lovesick puppies that met all the way back in 2003
AND JUST YESTERDAY MILES’ GUITARIST POSTED THAT 505 WAS THEIR BAT/TURTEL SIGNAL AND TODAY THEYVARE PLAYING TIGETHER AHHHH sorry I gave up trying with grammar
When we got the info that Miles was present at the stadium I was already freaking out but this this is so much better (I felt like we were playing little illusion machine with ourselves)
Also we got confirmation that they hugged in the beginning and ended it with a kiss on the cheek by Miles
I saw somewhere during 17.06 when the yellow poster got published that someone was being delusional like yellow that’s the color of TLSP who’s in TLSP right Alex And Miles so so conclusion Miles is gonna be there, I mean it was a day too soon but still… being delusional paying off 🤣
Wearing brown leather jacket I love my guys but also please tell me he just quickly popped round to the store after the show for some booze or new cigs while they were celebrating together and didn’t just leave after the gig cause I couldn’t handle that
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How Miles keeps looking at Alex and Alex keeps pointing at Miles and Alex stimming at the end and Alex’s full scrunchy face smile when Miles walks up to him and Miles smirk and the mic and and and I’m unter rot irrevocably besotted, how Miles just seamlessly fits in with the boys
But also I’m really hoping for a video where we can see the cheek kiss that apparently happens after the lights went down
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With full introduction
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I love that we know Miles and Al +monkeys had a very long night cause he posted at around midnight to his story and then nothing for fourteen hours till around 2 pm when the next 505 clips came 🥃 🍸 🍻
Clip of Miles with Chef Tom Brown and Jay Forrester and other friends during Cornerstone, Miles singing along 🥹 (Tom’s restaurant name) god he seems so happy, Tom Farrell was there as well but on the other stadium side (he posted a story of two lads getting into a boxing match during do I wanna know😂) Miles’ manager rosie_skinner was also present, and I love how Miles didn’t just watch from the wings but enjoyed the concert with his friends from the seats (I’m imagining this is how he invited them: “you wanna go out tonight?” “Sure what did you have in mind?” “Wanna come watch me and my husband play our song in Emirates stadium?”) and he probably was given a setlist beforehand or some roadie was ordered to fetch him a few songs ahead to come backstage where his already tuned guitar was and then Miles was ready to go only waiting for Alex to call him onstage
505 Via cat_mason
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Somewhat able to see the crowd jumping In the Video
Also just me or does it seem like Miles got a fresh haircut :)
My day literally consisted of watching that HUG over and over again from every possible angle, I love them and their dramatic hugs like they haven’t seen each other barely two weeks ago that we are aware of, but really I need to receive a hug like that one that’s just I missed you and I’m gonna squeeze all my love into you right now, the kisses 🥹🥹 Miles just casually kissing Al’s neck and his cheek and nuzzling his neck again 🫶🏽 and Alex cradling his head I can’t
Via Miles insta how Alex literally tilts Miles head so he can have better access for the neck kiss and how his hand digs into Miles’ shoulder he literally clings onto him for dear life and tries to ground himself and find the strength for the remaining concert in that hug 🫠
A view at 505 from the wings and a quick Miles and Cookie hug and forehead kiss (also thank you Miles for that prime few of Jamie’s arse 🤣🫶🏽)
Miles’ evening summarized #coming on stage #slaying the guitar parts #kissing half the monkeys 💅 #leaving
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#I love how we are all losing our collective shit right now adore you all <3#the lucky bastards that got tickets#I can’t wait for all the videos#I know exactly wait I’ll be doing tomorrow#watching every single clip I can find#I’m so far away from okay#Nono those aren’t tears that’s just sweat#I’m literally buzzing out of my skin with uncontained engery#we’re all just overwhelmed and running around like headless chickens#freaking out in a really cool way#I’m so scared for Glastonbury now#cause if miles isn’t there the fandom will commit ritual suicide#looking at what’s happening currently that’s literally gonna happen#please just let them be practicing#in case you haven’t noticed I have too many thoughts on this#but also how hot can Miles possibly look#I cannot cope right now#serotonin overload#really curious what Louise is gonna post about this night 🤣#refresh every few seconds to not miss anything#this is even better than the Scott Walker concert#but also scared shitless cause so many people said that Alex lost his voice a few times#baby doll please take a break and drink enough tea#gonna seek comfort in cozy blankets and movies now#also why does it look like Miles got a fresh fade just for the show :)#manifestation working wonders :)#Youtube#I made so many strange noises#none of the girlfriends posted anything while Miles’s friends are popping off on IG#London night 3; 18/06/2023
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ykw i wanna know what you would do with the complete opposite of the dynamics you've established — what does a dominant chrissy and a submissive eddie look like? could that even exist in any of your realities?
i love this!!! i think this is totally something that could be written at some point (and something that feels a bit tricky for me, which is all the more reason to try it out, i guess!).
in my currently existing realities of first one's free and semi-charmed life, i don't see this dynamic as being viable, mainly because one of them in each of those series would be completely disinterested/even a little uncomfortable with that dynamic swap.
in first one's free, i just can't see chrissy ever, ever, ever wanting to step away from being the more submissive partner, it just is really fulfilling for her to play that role. (i also always sort of write her as liking to keep their dynamic feeling as "real" as possible--her fantasy is most fulfilled when they can pretend this is genuinely what they're like all the time, and she really hates when they sort of step out of the illusion at all)
and then for semi-charmed life, eddie is like a true blue sadist. i hc that chrissy has done some domme work in her career and it's fun enough for her, like she'd be up for that kind of play in her personal life if it was pleasant for everyone, but eddie doing submissive shit is genuinely uncomfortable/unhappy for him. he doesn't like even playing at loss of control.
SO I THINK if i were to do it, it would be another one-shot or series that would play up chrissy's tendency to be a bit of a control freak (perhaps a more dominant role could be an outlet for her that wasn't so self harm oriented/so self sabotaging) and would play up eddie's tendency to be a little scatter-brained adhd machine -- she could give him potentially an outlet to just take a breath and have to listen very carefully and specifically. i can't imagine her being as mean as i find it easy to tap into eddie having a certain meanness, but there are lots of ways to play the assertive role in kink! maybe i'll have to try my hand at this eventually!
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Blorbo meetings
It happens every time. I'm in a fandom and something my blorbo does touches me. As in full on rattles. And I want to tell the person that made that happen.
Now on Tumblr and Ao3 I can go keysmash in people's inboxes. They seem to appreciate that.
But, when it's a creator, who's not Neil Gaiman, well.
Fat chance.
And I know it is bewildering.
One time at a party somebody was struck dumb by my presence.
I had no recollection of this person.
"You!" She said. "We were on stage together! I played a gnome, omg I admired you so much it is amazing!"
(I was sixteen then, depressed af and I didn't like my part or the song. I do remember being even smaller myself onstage and refusing to let go of my stage mama's hand whose name I never learnt, but she was all of fourteen and my rock and comfort, so I could relate to the feeling.)
And that is really nice, but this person has such a completely different image of you than you do of yourself that it's hard to find a way to behave in that moment.
So I understand why they would shield celebrities from that, because not everyone is going to make heart eyes at you; and even if they did.
But, they create the illusion of intimacy. Interviews, photo ops, because...
It sells.
I do not begrudge creators the money. But there's so little chance of human connection there. And the only reason I want to connect is because I want to keysmash back. Because what they did meant something. It's simply such a strange disappointment that you - well, you can't. Fan letters and twitter messages; do they even see them through the layers of moderation? Even if you pay people for the privilege of being face to face - there's no space for any of that.
Fans are often lampooned for imagining intimacy when there is none, but the whole machine of creating that sense of intimacy - that is a biz part of showbiz that always leaves a strange taste in my mouth.
In theatre, at least, applause is possible. Someone does something cool, you can stand up, you can go wooo! You can go wait at the stage door, though you might get blocked by a roadie (they might, at least, take a small gift you brought as a token of appreciation).
But other than that, as a fan...?
It's not really possible, not one on one.
There are when you're somehow in an industry. Those are the only times I had interactions with celebrities. Lovely, too. But you have to actually work with them.
And even though these paid for fan interactions are definitely work for the celebrities involved...
To me, they feel like utterly false promises, and it's sad, because to have these feelings and no chance of actual interaction...
And I think. Well. I can throw my own art back into the void.
One day, should they really want to look, they can find it.
And they may want to do anything but, but if not, it's right there.
It's the least and only thing I can do, if I'm not somehow helping to create or sell something they're in.
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IV.
March 13, 2023
3:30 a.m.
Tumon, Guam
I am numb. I am writing this as I dejectedly wait for the taxi that will take me to Guam International Airport for my flight back to Manila. Near the end of last month, around the time I was in Baguio (or right after leaving Baguio), I was spiritedly playing the song Marching On by OneRepublic on repeat, eager to get on with the new month and leave the ghosts of February behind. I thought I was going to have cards to play when March comes around. But the month is not even halfway through, and my illusion is quickly coming undone. I am unraveling. I can imagine feminists and women empowerment advocates and gurus around the world collectively groaning from second-hand embarrassment.
The first week of the month became family week. One of my nieces had her first birthday party. I was early at the restaurant. Kept to myself mostly. Hogged the photo booth. Paid for a second cake because the custom one my sister ordered was running late. Played errand girl. Joshed with Jollibee the mascot. Gave some food to a man who came in looking for a meal. I was too queasy to eat much. The custom cake arrived at the last minute. As soon as it arrived, I took pictures of it and left the restaurant, right behind the photography crew. I booked a Grab car. The driver was mercifully stationed right across from Jollibee. I was deflated and depleted. Chronic fatigue is no joke.
I do not know exactly what possessed me to travel to my birth province the next day, but I did. I was playing punk or metal music part of my way there to tune out everyone in the mini-bus. I cannot recall the playlist that I found, but the songs in it got some arguably dark and troubling messages in them. I may had been trying to scare myself into a having a heart attack.
I met with my father and one of my brothers at the mall and tried to figure out finances. We could not. I was quite upset.
We went to the appliance store after that. I bought my youngest brother a small washing machine. I am not quite sure what ails him. My father said the doctor could not tell them. I wanted to lighten his load a little, so that he is not spending hours painstakingly doing laundry for himself and his big brother by hand. I did not get back to my “cell” in Q.C. until late that night.
The following three days I was sleepless and restless. I booked my trip to Guam and had been debating whether or not to go. I only had about six hours of sleep in all of those three days. Maybe less. I kept having bouts of numbness in my extremities that travel up to my neck that kept me awake. I ended up going and it was there in Guam that I found out Pop had passed away.
I was searching online to confirm his landline number to say hi to him when instead, I found his obituary. I had no words to describe all of the emotions that hit me all at once. I tried so hard to keep in touch with him, but I’d been repeatedly unsuccessful in calling or FaceTiming him on his iPhone soon after my last visit with him in April 2023. But since I had been quite preoccupied with my survival ever since, I guess I did not push as hard as I could have had to get ahold of him. The divorce cut me off from the only grandfather who showed me love. And I can only fight so many battles at once. On top of failing to visit with an old family friend in Guam, finding out about Pop’s death crushed my heart, my soul, and my spirit. He is gone from this world and I cannot grieve or cry hard enough. I cannot even bring myself to sign his guestbook for fear of saying the wrong thing and dishonoring his memory.
I could have stayed for two more days in Guam. The hotel room was paid for until the 15th. I truly did not know why I booked a premature return flight to Manila. I was not thinking clearly, obviously. I was and still am a mess. The grief made me panic. I thought I would have enough money to book a flight from Manila to Florida to see him laid to rest. No, I would not.
What is the lesson to be learned in all of this here? I honestly can’t say at this time. I had been told that obsessing over the could, should, and would haves is futile. Sayang daw ang panahon. There is no point pining for lost time. And I get it. I really do. But it is not easy to be objective about one’s internal experiences and life decisions. I am not OK. I’ll just have to be OK with that for the moment, I guess.
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Social Media Followers Servers: Unmasking the Ghosts in the Machine
In the vibrant, yet often murky, world of social media, influencers reign supreme. Their perfectly curated feeds boast millions of followers, captivating brands and audiences alike. But behind the facade of meticulously crafted content lies a hidden world, one where social media followers servers operate like digital puppeteers, pulling the strings of engagement and manipulating perceptions.
What are Social Media Followers Servers?
Imagine a vast warehouse filled with computers humming away, each one simulating hundreds, even thousands, of social media accounts. These are the servers, housing armies of automated software programs - bots - programmed to mimic real users. Their sole purpose? To inflate the follower count of their designated profiles, creating the illusion of widespread popularity and influence.
Must Read Blog: Social Media Followers Servers
But how do these bots operate? Their arsenal includes:
Following sprees: They tirelessly follow target accounts, artificially boosting their follower count overnight.
Engagement mimicry: They "like," "comment," and share posts, generating the semblance of organic engagement.
Hashtag manipulation: They flood posts with trending hashtags, increasing visibility and reach (albeit fraudulently).
Why Do People Pay for Follower Servers?
The motivations for buying fake followers are varied, but the allure of perceived influence is the common thread. Here are some key drivers:
Enhanced marketability: Inflated follower counts make profiles appear more attractive to brands for potential collaborations and endorsements.
Boosted reputation: A larger following gives the impression of authority and credibility, attracting more organic followers.
Vanity metrics: For some, it's simply about boasting a higher number on their profile, feeding into a desire for social validation.
The Dark Side of Social Media Manipulation:
The widespread use of follower servers has cast a long shadow over the credibility of social media. Its consequences are far-reaching:
Distorted metrics: Fake followers skew engagement data, making it difficult for brands to identify genuine influencers and target their marketing efforts effectively.
Unfair competition: Organic creators struggle to compete with inflated profiles, hindering their growth and opportunities.
Erosion of trust: The pervasive presence of inauthenticity breeds distrust among users, potentially damaging the entire social media ecosystem.
The Statistics of a Shadowy Industry:
The follower server industry is shrouded in secrecy, but its size and impact are undeniable. Here are some staggering statistics:
In 2021, an estimated 50% of Twitter accounts were bots, according to a study by the University of Southern California.
The global market for fake followers was valued at over $1.4 billion in 2022, and is projected to reach $5.4 billion by 2027.
A single follower bought from a server can cost as little as 0.01 cent, making it a tempting but ultimately detrimental shortcut for many users.
Combating the Fake Follower Epidemic:
Social media platforms are constantly on the defensive against fake followers. They employ sophisticated algorithms to detect and remove bot accounts, but the battle is ongoing. Some strategies include:
Analyzing account activity: Bots often exhibit repetitive patterns in their behavior, making them easier to identify.
Requiring phone number verification: This adds a layer of complexity for bot creators, increasing the barrier to entry.
Partnering with cybersecurity firms: Collaboration with industry experts can help develop more advanced detection methods.
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Consumers also have a role to play in recognizing and avoiding fake followers:
Scrutinize profiles: Be wary of accounts with unusually high follower counts but low engagement.
Check follower demographics: If the follower base originates from specific regions or exhibits unnatural homogeneity, it could be a red flag.
Look for human interaction: Pay attention to the quality of comments and interactions. Bots often leave generic, repetitive messages.
Beyond the Numbers: Building Authentic Influence
In the end, chasing fake followers is a hollow pursuit. True influence comes from genuine connections, compelling content, and a commitment to adding value to your audience. Instead of relying on bots, focus on building authentic relationships with your followers, engage in meaningful conversations, and create content that resonates with them. That's the recipe for sustainable growth and lasting impact in the ever-evolving social media landscape.
Impact on Engagement Metrics
Understanding the impact of follower server usage on engagement metrics is crucial for a holistic social media strategy. Likes, comments, and shares serve as fundamental indicators of genuine audience interest. While the allure of rapidly increasing follower counts is evident, it's essential not to overlook these engagement metrics. A high follower quantity may not necessarily translate to meaningful interactions, and a balanced approach is key to fostering a thriving online community.
Ethical Considerations
The ethical dimension surrounding the use of Social Media Followers Servers is a topic of ongoing debate. This section delves into the nuances of the moral implications and considerations associated with employing automated tools for follower acquisition. Exploring the ethical landscape helps users make informed decisions about the methods they choose to enhance their social media presence.
Managing Expectations
Users venturing into the realm of follower servers must set realistic expectations to ensure a sustainable and ethical social media presence. This section guides individuals on understanding the limitations of follower server usage and emphasizes the importance of adopting long-term strategies. By managing expectations effectively, users can avoid disillusionment and build a genuine following that withstands the test of time.
Common Myths Debunked
Dispelling misconceptions is paramount for users to make well-informed decisions about employing follower servers. This section meticulously addresses prevalent myths surrounding these tools, offering clarity on the realities of their usage. By debunking common misconceptions, users can navigate the social media landscape with a more accurate understanding of what follower servers can and cannot achieve.
Further Reading: How Does SMM Work & The Benefits of SMM
Conclusion
In the dynamic world of social media, the pursuit of followers has given rise to Social Media Followers Servers. While these tools provide swift solutions for increasing follower counts, users must carefully weigh the benefits against the risks and ethical considerations. This concluding section reiterates the importance of building a genuine and engaged following as the foundational element for long-term success on social media.
#cheap smm#smm#smm (social media management)#smm agency#smm company#smm panel#smm services#smmarketing#social media#follow
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i have nothing to read
so i write, just had the logos
i exchange it for the thought make
are my poems faulty if i edit them?
i study poets and thier revisions
why do we revise, these subtle significances
strength enough to change labels
living freely is political da
philosophy is high comms, politics the gossip
ye upon all eye, that kinda loft talk
what is its easy replace
i oose train of thought, o lose train of thought
lost is only a word, if i stop believing words how do i make understand the blind, i remember echolocation, its masters, my fear is futile, how more long do i have to make remember untill its etch
ill go back to them
trainwreck, train of thought, movement , the scene, speed, scent, weight, lips and the eyes
letters and the trust da,
news bringing fear does linger, force trust more
believing in everything is like talking to yourself
science survey feelings, makes number of it
balance it with other numbers, associates
ohh my my
my mind scribbling rounds, triangles, lines slants and i make numbers of em, my probability toss into air and around, for i know the grander scheme, ive had glimpses
my cahoots with the unknown
the lives i like are here, usually lives like me back
seldom not liked, but agendas and the psychic
its backfiring machine
i dont search for the lives i want, wont want the lives i need
necessity ignored couple enlightened desires
where am i dragged to, this magnetism is paradoxical
foolery it is, tobegone addiction
they think i took too much
they didn't work!
these lines here because they didn't work
unnecessary side-effects, traded tolerance money time and effort, have to havemore, be more
prove them of thier false rights
them hoodwinking themselves and winking eachother
frowns ,the force over smiles
they should know how jealousy works, how attention does
so dont turn their ignorance to my pride
let their limits fail, let succeed seeing chaos as harmony
untill then illusion persists, untill then need ask evidence,
iam me and them, real, for ill deliver
mixing poems piece by piece makes them more poetic?
piece of my muse, validation and warmdaydreams
im lost in music, down and down we go
music is my definition of old and new coming together
give chance to probability, be probable more
i have a chance to school tomorrow, i need the school tomorrow, i have the write here anyway
im turning mary jane platonic, lessons only
toxic nostalgia for badbloodpassion, No i wont be,
transmute out badsoberity, alchemy da freecharms
love and little light, we the heros we say could be
nahnahnah nah na, already na na, no way nada
fireworks into the night, hedonism
waters and its fish for me to indulge
dharma and sex, na freak na
no we can't be friends, no way,
we were friends then, we cant meet no
i dont wanna be with you, we cant be friends
no more holding anything, we cant be friends
price,fool for pleasure,no more play,
see the truth, i dont wanna be with you
we can't be friends
i rant in silence
i miss it already, the only something ive known best
the thought of no turn back, my back to my associate,
once joy, stability and understanding
what will become of me as i look only ahead,
a head that works of different connections
i have the of yore , ahh im turning into a man
the boy made assume responsibility
father spoke family being love, and all that seems love not love,
forensic linguistics the science, another implication of my overthinking into the machine.
the machine, all its meanings, i wonder how it processes all it knows, wonder how its evolution is different from mine, help imagine the bias from all available.
meanings, different ones, i realise they average out and become words, his words wonder in me for all them extremes left out for the average,
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Greatest Generation 💲 Jacky-Bobby | Trial 6.1 | RE: Warrick, Niko
All that's been awful for Jonathan Robert in his far-too-long lifetime can be traced back to blood rituals. If it wasn't for the disruption and spilling of warlock blood on his sacred campground, he would've died an ordinary man.
Instead, he's still stuck here, suffering with the curse of eternal life and a headache worsening by the minute. Here's yet another round of magic-based misfortune for him. Since disasters are themed to happen in threes, he can only imagine what the next blood ritual-related major event will be like. Hopefully he'll get a 100 year break before it happens.
Save it for 2101, please; he needs to rest.
Jacky-Bobby lets out a grumpy huff sound.
"What's wrong with being normal? I'm serious. Being special is something that you work for. Greatness isn't something that's packaged to you on a silver platter.
"Why, back in my day, I used to toil under the boiling, blistering sun for hours. There were days I didn't even have two pennies to rub together after feeding my family but you know what? I didn't go around sniffing for hand-outs. I worked. I knew the 'magic' of working for what I earned.
"I had pride."
The lack of discipline in the younger generations never ceases to amaze him. They were so taken in by the illusion of fast money and made-up lies on the silver screen and their little game machines. Their compasses were calibrated to point towards the wrong direction.
And it was sad, actually, that nearly everyone here had been made prisoner of someone already shackled by that mindset. The misery had to be shared and exchanged through the terms of their contractual...
he can't find a more elegant word than 'bullshit' in this moment.
Jacky-Bobby adds onto Warrick's point.
"Yes. Moreover, it was their belief that in saving us, they'd 'grant our wishes of love,' because we're oh so hungry and lonely. The absolute gall of that thrall! They're older than I am. They should know better by now than to play around with silly assumptions and storybook fantasies for people that don't want them."
"This contractor and the thrall... truly a match made through the f-words of hell."
That's fires. He remembered.
"And you."
Peepaw's eyes narrow, with Niko in his sights.
"You ought to watch what you're doing with that lantern. That's my boy in there."
He's watching him.
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Storyline Swap! If your OC’s from Death’s Eyes and Frog Prince were in the Villain’s Intern universe, what superpowers would they have?
I guess the characters that already have powers (like Acheflow with her death-vision and Gwen with her magic) would retain their original powers, but what would your non-powered OC’s have?
Maybe Toshiko would have a power that ties into her thieving ways, like invisibility, shadow-travel, camouflage, shape-shifting, or illusions? Or maybe Theodore would get shape-shifting, but only into animals (frogs are his go-to).
I imagine Aoife would have teleportation, because I love to imagine baby Aoife getting into all sorts of trouble at the castle. Teleportation would stress out her caretakers the most - they’ll have to chase her down and search for her on rooftops and washing machines, because she loves weaselling herself into places she shouldn’t be. An alternative power would be invincibility - it’d be useful since she keeps climbing castle walls and getting herself into precarious situations.
I’m curious to see your takes on all your other characters!
Ooh, this is a very fun question! I'll throw it under a Read More to keep things small!
I like to give all their powers some kind of weakness or drawback, because I think it makes things a little more fun! Plus, it makes them work for it, haha!
Acheflow already has the drawback of not being able to physically touch people, so she already fits in! Gwendolyn would fit the bill too, but I have to figure out a drawback to her power as well; I like the idea from a manga I was reading that witches can't tell lies or they'll lose their powers because their magic creates lies, so maybe I'd play with that?
Rhianwyn would have something based on illusions, with the condition that nobody -not even herself- knows what the real her looks like anymore. They all assume it's similar to Gwen, but being seen causes immense pain, so she's been a not-her since childhood.
Roland can talk to animals and plants, but he has a very difficult time adjusting and understanding humans due to his connection with nature. I would love to make Theodore a shapeshifter, but I already have a canon villain with those exact powers, when I decide to develop them. Charismatic leader though, where he is capable of essentially brainwashing people or forcing them to follow his orders, I could see him doing. That way, if he's not very careful with his words, bad things can happen. (And it reverses his role with Gwendolyn, who is usually in that position)
Scarlet probably has something physical; a super-strength of some sort that is a familial trait. Kind of like... one of the few families that pass powers on, instead of them being kind of random. Downside: there is absolutely a villainy based line that does the same thing, and they are out to end the family, one way or another.
I always saw Toshiko with the ability to fly, but that may be because I've made her primary mode of transportation a flying carpet. Not a ton of drawbacks, except that flight is difficult to master, and no one wants to go like the caped people from the Incredibles.
Aoife would absolutely be invulnerable to all damage, except for one condition she herself isn't even aware of, because her parents have kept that from her. As a result -like in her canon- she's become a little reckless with her own life, because let's face it: she can't die yet anyway, can she?
I see Alba being very similar to Roland, minus the plants. Because I need my Snow White stand-in to be friends with all the animals and have them leap to her aid.
Mmm... Tobias would likely talk to the dead, maybe even be able to call on them for help. But that's a slippery slope, and he doesn't have many (any) close living friends anymore. Lou, on the other hand, likes to set things on fire, and when they get too excited... well, things kind of go boom.
#starlightdoesthings#thanks for asking!#my OCs#I didn't almost forget Scarlet I would *never*#the writer speaks#Acheflow#Tobias#OC: Lou#Gwendolyn#Scarlet#Theodore#Roland#Rhianwyn#Alba#Aoife#the sleeping princess#pretty sure that was her tag ages ago#one day I'll reorganize
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The One Who Runs Away, The One Who Runs Back (Leon S. Kennedy x Reader)
Author’s note: This is a sequel to “A PAST WITH HER, A FUTURE WITH YOU” and the end of my three-parts fan fiction "I TRUSTED YOU WITH MY HEART" I decided to write after so many of you asked for it. Sorry it took so long but I was navigating from one fandom to another. (BTW, if there are any Devil May Cry fans up here, you can read my DMC fan fictions here)
PS: Even if I said it before, I have no hate whatsoever towards Ada or Aeon.
Tagged: Angst, Fluff, Romance, Post-Break up, Sexual Content
Part 1 / Part 2
***
Do you remember? We started this story by quoting some sitcom character that was clueless about love. Well, here’s a suggestion. Why not ending it by quoting someone who knew a little more on such matter.
William Shakespeare - you know that English dude expert on tragic ‘drink this poison, stab yourself’ kind of love - apparently once said ‘Love runs away from those chasing her, and those who run away, she throws herself on his neck’. I say ‘apparently’ cause, even though I have a master in English lit, this quote is from the internet, and also … who knows what the guy truly said?
But it’s the quote that’s important. Not the author. The quote it’s important because it sums up perfectly how this story is gonna end. However, before starting, let me tell you this quote is going to be the only Shakespeare-worthy sentence in this final chapter. You’ve been warned.
Love runs away from those chasing her.
Well, this part was definitely written for someone like Ada Wong. Owner of countless gold medals and possibly a world record at this point, that woman is basically the Usain Bolt of the ‘Running from Leon S. Kennedy’ competition. Unchallenged winner since the creation of this sultry version of cat and mouse game, it’s better not to think about the number of times she successfully ran away from her favourite agent.
But this year, this formidable titleholder in a gorgeous red dress will have to face her Nemesis in the championship. You. Though the comparison to the hideous bio-organic killing machine might not be very complimentary to you but you get the idea.
This year you enter the Kennedy Olympics. And this year you run like Sonic the Hedgehog and you win the damn competition (screw you Usain Bold!). And you do this with your head high and without an ounce of regret. Ignore all the texts and flowers Leon might send on your track Mario Kart style. His gifts are not as slippery as banana peels and they can easily be dodged, I promise. Well, most of the time, when you’re not lying on your bed in the middle of the night crying and sobbing while reading his messages or playing his voice in your voicemail again and again until you’re nothing more but a giant mess with puffy red eyes drowning in a puddle of your own tears.
Screw those messages too! And screw his broken yet terribly sexy voice as well!
Being a man of word, Leon kept his promise. And for months you kept on running peacefully, marathoning away from this past relationship that had destroyed you like no other before while tranquilly fixing your broken heart on the way. That run was a good cardio.
But sometimes, cardio is not enough, and even just the small sight of an overpriced whisky bottle or the smell of Leon’s perfume on some guy’s clothes is enough to reopen your wounds.
And when it happens, you always do the same thing, you break the damn bottle - and run cause damn! it’s expensive! - or you tell the guy his perfume smells like cheap cologne and that he should definitely change it, which is an improvement on your past destructive behaviour, since there was a time shortly after the break up when you would have simply dragged the guy to your place to let him fuck you senseless while imagining he was Leon. All that just for the illusion to feel him again and for the sake to kick him out the next morning, screaming like a hysterical psycho.
So imagine, for a small second, the wave of intense feelings surging out of your healing heart when, in the middle of a cafe, you hear some dude sitting behind you ordering Leon’s favourite whisky while wearing the same bloody perfume. “It’s got to be relentless persecution at that point!” You sigh, already annoyed, closing your book more violently than intended. Hope you’re ready, stranger! Because you’re not in the mood to deal with this right now.
You turn around with a fake smile that reflects perfectly your irritation, ready to give him hell, your sharpest riposte already burning your tongue. After all, he deserves it and you can’t help it.
But when you meet familiar – and freaking gorgeous - baby blue eyes you freeze and stare, suddenly confused and lost and refusing to believe that in spite of the intense running, love just jumped at your neck after all and it was sitting there, taking the shape of Leon S(tupid) Kennedy.
You should have stood up and left, run for your life, run for your heart. And yet, you didn’t.
You stayed there staring at him looking at you, allowing all your memories, the good ones and the bad ones, all your buried feelings to come back from the dead, embracing them as if you had missed them, which, let’s be honest, you probably had.
You tried to scream to yourself “Come on, Y/N! Shake a leg!” but it seemed that what you brain understood was something like “Cum on him! Open your legs!” as a couple of blurry hours later, you were on Leon’s bed, legs wide open, screaming his name and begging him not to stop his amazing thrusts.
Six months, you ran for six months …
Well, looks like the run ends here and now. After a minute-long deep stare, an afternoon of amazing sex and two hours long of something blurry in between.
“I missed you.” And there you were! The moment all couples that broke up have after one of them (in this case Leon with the infamous ‘I missed you line’) starts to believe they miraculously rekindled their love. The fatal post-coital cuddling session that you don’t know how to react to, as you think of all the possibilities before you.
Possibility Number 1) You tell Leon you missed him too and cuddle, enjoying that embrace you secretly yearned for months. But that includes forgetting what he has done or pretending that nothing happened.
Possibility Number 2) You push him away, get dressed, leave again and act as if this afternoon never happened. But if Leon doesn’t remind you of it, the ache between your legs will, that’s for sure!
Possibility Number 3) You jump him again until you sore even more and hope that you’ll be able to leave afterwards.
Frankly, all possibilities suck because, in all cases, it seems like you lose. Since,
with Possibility Number 1) you lose the run forever, with Possibility Number 2) you lose him again and with Possibility Number 3) well it’s result 1 or 2 + your body aching like crazy for days. I suck at math but no need to be Einstein to know the result of this calculation looks unpleasant.
So what do you choose?
You see a triangular dice rolling in your head, showing a never-ending succession of 1, 2 and 3 that doesn’t make any sense and that confuse you even more than you already are. 1, 2, 3, 2, 1, 3, 2 ! Oh for fuck’s sake!
You grimace, angry and pissed at Leon and probably even more at yourself, and finally leaves his bed and his strong warm arms, feeling the tears furiously forming in your eyes. “I can’t” You can’t look at him in the eyes. You don’t want to see his confusion, don’t want to see his pain as he witnesses all his hopes shatter to pieces.
“ What do you mean?” You can hear the sheets crease behind you, alerting you of Leon’s agitation, so you hurry and pick up all your clothes scattered in his room. You must leave, now. 2! 2 it is!
“This! All This! This afternoon never happened.” You tell him, putting on your clothes with sudden clumsy and trembling hands, not caring if your bra is correctly hooked or if you put your shirt on back to front. Your heart. You have to think of your poor heart first.
“Hey, hey, hey.” You feel Leon’s hand softly grabbing your arms and you let go of whatever you were holding right now. His voice is sweet and trying to be comforting. Don’t look at him Y/N! Don’t look at him!
“Look at me.” You do. Damn it! And you see his gorgeous blue eyes staring at you, studying your flustered face and the tears slowly drowning your (colour) look. You missed those eyes. You missed them so.damn.much ! As much as you missed his hands cupping your face and his thumbs wiping up your tears. God! How many tears those thumbs have missed recently. “It’s alright.”
You want to believe him. You really do. But there is this voice screaming in your head and very clearly this time. A voice shouting, forcing you to remember that night, that awful nightmarish night, the one when you felt your heart break and your dreams turn to ashes. All that because of him and his obsession for her.
“No, it’s not alright, Leon.” You shake your head and miraculously manage to take a small step back. You never thought you could. But you had to. You can’t stay close to him. You can’t let him touch you, feel you. Not if you want to run away. And you have to run away. Like her! Like Ada. Ada! “I told you. For as long as you have feelings for Ada, I can’t … we can’t…”
“Please don’t talk about her.” He begs and rubs his hand over his face. Is he trying to chase her away from his mind? Is she still in here? Please, let her not be in here.
“But she’s the reason we’re in this situation now. She’s the reason why we’re in this mess.” You insist only for the sake to see his reaction when you mention Ada, to see if she’s still under his skin, somewhere.
“Ada is not the reason. I am!” Leon corrects you, a finger directed at his heavy chest as he is putting the full blame on himself for the first time since that night. “I am the one who went after Ada when I shouldn’t have! I am the reason why we broke up! I am the reason why we are so miserable!”
“But I was fine!” You shouted back in an attempt to show him he was wrong refusing to listen to that part of you who knew he was completely right. You were miserable without him. “I was doing fine until you came back and fucked everything up! I was healing goddamnit!”
You felt new tears rolling along your red cheeks and quickly wipe them off with the back of your hand that felt so callous and rough in comparison to Leon’s gentle touch. “You can’t just jump back into my life like this and expect me to forget!”
Leon nods, agreeing with you in a certain way. But the truth is, he doesn’t want you to forget. He doesn’t expect you to erase his mistake. He just wants you to forgive him … No, he just wants you to come back to him. Period. And that’s got to be what you want to. It has to!
“So why did you have sex with me, huh?” He finally asks even though he already knows your answer. “Tell me!” You’re not the kind of person who has meaningless sex, not the kind of person who worships one’s body with divine kisses and devoted caresses if they mean nothing. “Why did you have sex with me?” And yet the answer he wishes to hear doesn’t come out. “For fuck’s sake Y/N! Answer me! Why?” He shouts making you shiver and cry even more.
“Because I LOVE YOU!” You finally scream. And it hurts. It hurts but it feels good too. Like a weight lifted off your chest. “Because I missed you too! Because those months without you have been terrible! Because I don’t know how to handle even just the thought of you or the sound of your voice in my voicemail. Because each time I see something that makes me think of you, I’m a mess and I do things that normal me would never do! You fucked me up, Leon! You fucked me up but I love you! And I hate to love you!” You grunt in pain and relief, enraged but happy that you finally let everything out. And Leon listens in silence, frozen by your powerful honest confession. But he doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t know what to say. Part of him is overjoyed, ecstatic that you still love him but there is another part that just feels terrible, sorry for the pain your love for him caused you even in his absence.
“But you see—“ You continue “That’s the problem in our relationship, Leon! I love you in ways that are so intense, that go beyond sanity. And you love me by half.”
You see him crumple, his horrified face looking suddenly very pale as if he had just heard some dreadful news. Is that really how you feel? Is that how you see his love for you? Is that what he has made you believe?
“Goodbye Leon.”
With the full intention to leave Leon’s place for good and never come back, you grab you bag on your way out of the bedroom while carelessly shoving your underwear inside of it since you forgot to put them on in the midst of panic and precipitation. Get out of here, Y/N! Now! A reasonable voice encourages you. Listen to me!
But this not what Leon wants.
“I never loved you by half.” He declares and you abruptly stop, asking God if he’s some kind of sadist that loves seeing you in pain from the comfort of his divine sofa somewhere in heaven. “Never.” But it’s not God and his sadism that makes you turn around. It’s you, and your masochist love for that blue-eyed man before you.
“I don’t believe you” Your voice almost doesn’t leave your throat as you try not to sob.
“But it’s the truth.” He says with a calm soothing voice as he slowly approaches you. “I never imagined my future with Ada. I never wished to grow old with her or build a home with her.” You want to tell Leon to stop talking, to stay where he is but your body doesn’t seem to respond. And when you feel him grabbing your hands in his and the comforting warmth that goes with that simple touch, you know that leaving is now an almost impossible task. “Yes. I admit it. My feelings for her were real.” Even when his honesty hurts you, you don’t know how to leave anymore. “But they were nothing in comparison to what I feel for you.”
You try to let go, pulling your hands away from his loving grip but he holds you back. And you’re not strong enough. Or maybe, you just don’t want to be strong. Everything is so confusing. Everything is tearing you apart.
“But they’re still here, aren’t they?” You question, hoping his answer might give you a clue, might give you the strength to make the correct decision. Do you leave? Or do you stay? “And they’ll keep coming back each she goes back into your life. You can’t let go of her.”
“You’re maybe right.” His words hurt you more than you thought they would. They hurt like hell because you realise there are not the ones you wanted to hear. You wanted to hear him say that he would let go of Ada, for good, for you. You wanted to hear that because deep down … YOU WANTED TO FUCKING STAY! “But can you let go of your past?” He continues and you shake your head refusing to hear any other word coming out of Leon’s mouth.
“Don’t!” You beg, weary.
“No! Listen to me this time. Ada is my past, Y/N. She’s my past. And you … you’re my future. You’re my life, damn it!” He doesn’t cry but you don’t need his tears to sense how emotional and how honest he is. And suddenly, you just want to listen to him. “And I was a fool not to see it sooner. When you left me, I felt a void I had never felt in my entire life. I felt like a part of me was missing. And then, the bombing in Washington happened, and it was like I had nothing left. I needed you. I wanted you. You. Not Ada.”
“Leon” You whisper and he cups your face again, blue eyes staring deep into yours, allowing you to see everything in him, his strong love for you and all the weaknesses he hated to admit. “It was you in my mind. Only you. And it will always be you. Because I love you. Now. Today. And I will always love you.”
You cry even more, uncertain if those tears are tears of sorrow, tears of joy or a mix of both. God, how can your emotions be such a mess right now? How can you be wishing to shout at him with all the anger you’ve accumulated and, at the same time, willing to kiss him with all love you’ve got?
“If you got to believe something. Believe that. And if that’s not enough and you think you can be happy with someone else. Then go. I won’t hold you back.” You frown. He is fucking lying. You’re sure of it.
“You can’t stop running after me and you know it.” He smiles and scoffs, sensing that hint of sudden defiance in your tone he enjoys a lot.
“True. I can’t sop running after you. But I’ll do my best not to catch you if that’s what you want. But you got to tell me. Is that what you truly want?” You don’t reply. Truth is, you’re not sure what to say not because you’re not sure that’s what you want but because you’re not sure you can trust him if you let him in again.
“No.” You whisper. “No, that’s not what I want. I want you. All of you.” You can see Leon struggle to contain his growing joy as it starts to glimmer brighter and brighter in his irises. He doesn’t want to cry victory just yet. He is cautious and rightfully so. “But can I?”
“Want me?” He smiles.
“ Have you completely?” You correct, searching for a promise in his eyes, one you hope, you wish he would not break this time.
“Trust me with your heart again and find out.”
This better not hurt this time…
#leon kennedy#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#resident evil#i trusted you with my heart#resident evil fanfic#fanfic
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DID SOMEONE SAY BODY LANGUAGE COMPARISON???
I heard the sweet, dulcet tones of acting meta on this post and could not resist her call, so @xcziel, @foxofninetales, this one is for you.
THE LIU CHANG DMBJ CHARACTER META: WANG CAN vs LIU SANG
So first of all lemme just say I love these bitches, and what’s interesting about Liu Chang is that he plays them on opposite ends. There’s not much he can do about the fact that, y’know, he’s the same-ass person, but there are some very distinct differences between Liu Sang and Wang Can, which we will be talking about now.
Liu Sang photo cred: @foxofninetales
Wang Can photo cred: @xcziel
Jiang Wu photo cred: me screenshotting @xia-xueyi’s Moonfall Echo subs (ep. 13)
PART ONE: BODY LINES
I’ve talked about body lines before! But now we get to look at it from the same actor in two different characters! As a recap, straight lines are strong, sturdy, confident, and straightforward; curved lines are weaker, but more interesting and more dynamic.
For example!!
We got our bitch Wang Can here!! This is our first look at this slimy man, and look! He’s like a square!!! All straight lines, all ups and downs. Him body a square!! The costume people also do a great job of boxing him up bc of the tailoring of his jacket, and the two neutral color palette. There’s no embellishments, no decor. This is a straightforward man!! He’s not hiding anything except exactly how much of a bitch he is
(Also notice that his hands are showing and in fists. This will be important in a minute.)
Next, we have our favorite boy Liu Sang, showing up for the first time (ignore the differences in angles):
Oho! He’s a curvy motherfucker!! Aside from the fact that his clothes are now tailored correctly to demonstrate his natural curves, this mans is also curving himself! His arms! Are loose! And bent!! His head and neck aren’t nearly as emphasized! And! AND!!!! His hands are in his fucjing POCKEEETTTSSS. That indicates FURTIVENESS! That indicates MYSTERY! We’re going to find some things OUT about this boy and we’re gonna like it!!!
In comparison, look at Jiang Wu:
LIU CHANG U BEAUTIFUL BITCH. He fucking BENT HIS ARM. He kept one straight and BENT THE OTHER!!! Oh joyous occasion!! We have a DYNAMIC BOY!! but not too dynamic—peep that hidden hand! Also I love this bc it was TWO DIFFERENT LIU CHANG CHARACTERS IN THE SAME SHOW!!! :D see!! Here’s Liu Sang again!
THIS IS A CONFIDENT LIU SANG!!!! He is CHANGED! He is capable of expressing emotions now! Look at just how much body language he has going on, while in comparison, Jiang Wu and Wang Can are like creepy Wood Baby Puppets. His body shape is boxy again, but that’s bc he’s the protagonist of this one. The plot hinges on him, he’s gotta be sturdy.
WHAT WE HAVE DETERMINED SO FAR:
Wang Can is straight lines, no hidden agenda (which is funny cause he’s a Bad Guy)
Liu Sang is dynamic lines and movement, and alludes to mysterious ✨secrets✨
Jiang Wu is a mix of the two and also a dumb dork (that’s not from the body language, I just think he’s funny)
PART TWO: HAIR, BABY!
Once again I owe my life to costuming people. Someday I’ll write that Mystic Nine costuming meta but today we’re focusing on Liu Chang and, specifically, his HAIR PEOPLE!!! I love them and would die for them literally
Once again, ladies and gentlemen and all my glorious they/thems, Wang Can:
OOOOOH I hate his slimy RAT FACE lemme AT EM. Ahem. Regardless, let’s take a look at this BITCH, shall we? We have: straight line face angles!! Very standard shape, BUT this is all accented by the fact that his hair is S C R A P E D back to within an inch of its life, like. Ahem. Sir. Please. Also this man’s got CONTOUR on. If u look at literally any pics/videos of Liu Chang out of character he is NOT this angular. His head is just as rectangular as his body, and the pulled back hair emphasizes his face, which is interesting as he doesn’t do a whole lot with it.
Alternatively, Liu Sang:
This is a nice boy!!! This is a nice soft boy!!! Look his face has CURVES that are emphasized by the glasses (which also draw attention to his eyes, which is good bc that’s where he does the most work, which we’ll get to later) and the HAIR!!! His hair is soft!! It’s flowy! It’s curvy! He conditions!!! This boy is approachable and will Not shoot you One Million Times with a Machine Gun. This also works with the Liu Sang Signature Ponytail, as he leaves thick-enough bang pieces out to also give the illusion of curves around his face. Also his nose and cheekbones are NOT as strongly contoured, so the angularity of his face is softened as well
WHAT WE HAVE DETERMINED SO FAR
dmbj hair and makeup people were doing the absolute most
Wang Can’s hair gives us the most access to The Face, giving him a slick, straight look, and also something else which we will discuss next
Liu Sang is Soft and Curved bc of the hair and glasses, primarily
Oh speaking of fucking which you know who else is soft??? Huang Junjie. That’s the softest man I have ever seen. His xiaoge is my favorite bc it’s perfectly believable that he’s Butter Inside based solely on his Cheeks (again, it’s the hair people doing the Lord’s work)
PART THREE: IT’S ALL IN THE FACE
The face is the actor’s best friend, and Liu Chang definitely uses his well. We know him as being sort of stoic, more on the Xiao-Ge end of things than the Wu Xie side, but if u compare Liu Sang to Wang Can, LS is going HAM with the facials.
Let’s take a look!
Fuck me UP!!!!!! Look at him!! This is one of the earlier episodes too so we haven’t even gotten to the real good stuff but!!!! Look at his eyebrows!!! Look at how wide his eyes get (once again, the glasses are jumbotroning the peepers)! Look at his unhappy lil mouth!! That’s a whole REALM of facial expression, and so early on in our journey!
Meanwhile, Fuckboy Prime:
(Pardon the garbage screencap, my laptop broke on me this week and I am Suffering)
This is at the very end of Wang Can’s time with us; he’s fighting and he’s going to die and he KNOWS it, but this bitch doesn’t even draw his eyebrows together. Mcwhomst???? Bitch u GOTTA give us more than that I’m BEGGING u
The other interesting thing about their differing facial expressions is that Liu Sang emotes mostly with his eyes, and Wang Can emotes mostly with his mouth. This is very obvious in the clip @xcziel posted, esp when he starts doing the whole gesturing-with-his-chin thing, but it’s prominent throughout.
These two screenshots were taken like fifteen seconds apart. He does a whole face journey, but only with his mouth. His eyes stay fixed; they move, sure, but they don’t get any wider or anything like that.
Liu Sang, however is always doing stuff with his eyes. For example (I couldn’t find an image of it quick enough but I know that @kholran has this gifset), the sacrifice scene where he looks up at Wu Xie with the biggest, most pleading and questioning eyes imaginable?? Kills me. The DEPTH in those bad boys. Fuck me UP.
This also checks out when we remember the glasses. Since they emphasize the eyes, we’re drawn to that part of Liu Sang’s face, so it makes sense that the majority of his expression would happen there. This is also prominent with his hearing abilities; whenever he’s trying to focus them (or get us to focus on him), he not only turns his eyes away, he SHUTS THEM, which means we as the audience know that there’s something going on underneath the surface, and really highlights the fact that this is an unusual and cool power!
With Wang Can, however, the structure of his face and absence of Hair Curves directs the eye to his mouth, so we watch that to tell what’s going on in his head. It’s all about directing the eye, and Liu Chang is very good at knowing where people are going to be looking!
SO: WHAT HAVE WE LEARNED?
Liu Sang, Wang Can, and Jiang Wu are all very distinctly characterized through their body language
The same actor becomes different characters by using their toolkit (the body) to its full potential
Hair and makeup people are Wizards
Wang Can is a Whole-Ass Ho and I do not miss him even a little bit
Liu Sang’s body dynamics change over time and I love that for him!!
I’m a giant nerd the end
#this is a long boy but I’m a nerd and enjoy drawing Arrows#liu sang#wang can#liu chang#dmbj#dmetabj#my meta#acting meta#tomb of the sea#the lost tomb reboot#moonfall echo
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jeo seung saja
It’s only appropriate that if Annabelle were to meet her future husband in an arcade, that she would be reunited with him in one. She’s been sitting in front of a classic Rampage machine for the past hour - there’s a cramp in her leg, sweat slick under her thumbs, and a heavy focus on her face as she passes Day 216 and moves onto Day 217. She still has a long way to go before beating the game, but she’s in it for the long haul - she wants to see the days reset back to the beginning, at least once in her life.
That is, until a blimp floats onto the screen from the right hand side and decides to absolutely obliterate Ralph before they have the chance to break any windows in hopes of feeding their pixilated wolf any fruit or roast chickens. “What the fuck? How did that? Why did that?” When they bring their arms away from the console, dark marks have indented onto their arms from the groves of the machine - its clear they need a break from playing any further before their eyes start to swim. They aren’t ready to go back to their empty little home in the depths of the woods. Neither do they wish to occupy their time with their stinky buddy, not brother, in the motel. ( They didn’t want to hear him mope about his boyfriend and their mean roommate or...whatever the situation was ).
She decides to place an order for a small pizza and takes a step outside while the worker at the counter throws it in the microwave until the cheese bubbles but the center remains impossibly frozen. Her hand goes to the gaudy ring around her neck - the gaudy ring she asked for.
Which, of course, is when they start to hallucinate. They must be - it’s the only explanation for why their husband stands staring in his traditional all blank outfit, looking significantly better than Annabelle would’ve imagined him to be. They pictured a half-melted face. Maybe a bloody flower blossoming on his chest - the only reason why he would have been gone from their life for so long would be his own death, wouldn’t it?
Annabelle rubs her eyes, but the mirage of Saja doesn’t seem to fade. When she looks to the ground, she finds a long silhouette that meets her own. She rubs her face then, but the figure still stands at the edge of the walkway. Her feet take a tentative step forward. Then two. Until her legs pump her way to standing directly in front of him with their faces almost matching.
They’re convinced it’s a hallucination until his head turns and she smells his floral shampoo and spies his collection of tattoos peeking out from his sleeves. “What the fuck?” They reach out to touch his hand only for them to pull away -- what if their touch ruins the illusion? Would it be better or worse if he was actually here, after all these weeks of radio silence? “Who the hell do you think you are --” They begin. “If you don’t give me a good fuckin’ answer, I swear to god I’ll judo flip you in the middle of this damn parking lot and send you straight to the hospital.”
@fxckingprxblem
#fxckingprxblem#jeo seung saja#jeo seung saja; annabelle wilson#annabelle wilson; threads#// PLEASE DONT MATCH THIS OR I MIGHT CRY LOL#// actually u can if u want and i'll cry anyway lol#// I'LL REPLY TO SOME OTHER STARTERS W HER TOMORROW?? POST AN OPEN MAYHAPS??? WE'LL SEE ?????
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The Mind Warrior 1
My browser closed down and the episode stopped in the middle, I can’t get it to work again, grrr... and I’ve lost all I wrote...
We now have a battle simulation room at Monitor (reminds me of the X-Men) and Kshin is having fun creation simulations for the other three.
Dynak and Octon are really equals - both spotted the alien warhead. Octon also spotted that the Defenders are already on their way.
Of course, as soon as the Defenders have a battle simulation room, Ming has a device to interfere with it!
Finally, we got rid of the red lipstick and bracelet and have the Jedda we love back!
Trivia we also learn: Kshin likes to watch cartoons.
The parachutes of 2015...^^
Good thing they have Phantom to lead them through the jungle. They do find the warhead but Garax is already there!
And he puts them on ice...
They call still move and talk within that ice block.
And they waste valuable time trying to break the ice. At least the show is consistent here, stating it’s Mongo Ice. (Still - ice robots break pretty easily?)
Why waste time at all them Mandrake can just do this?
I’ll finish the epsiode on You Tube now, can’t get the DVD to work or my VLC Player to start right now. :( There no screenshots...
The Phantom uses the powers of ten tigers (he gets 12). The ice robots just stand there while the Phantom jumps around, collecting their weapons. Then Mandrake turns on the heat, making them all run. Perhaps Ming uses cheaper ice on his robots... so they melt more easily^^
We see the battle stations for the first time. Rick is clearly in command, giving orders to Dynak.
The kids nearly kill their parents when they return in a Ming Ship but thankfully, Rick recognizes his father’s flying style in the very last minute. This is like - of course Rick would recognize his father’s flying style. It’s also something the show highlights in a lot of episodes - that Flash is an extraordinary pilot and displays quite some crazy techniques!
The other kids have enough of Kshin’s simulations but the adults are happy to play along since Dynak will need 24h to disarm the warhead anyway. I like that the adults are open to play along even though the ideas of a ten-year-old might not be the scariest or most challenging.
Trivia we learn: Kshin loves ghost stories and Lothar seems to occasionally watch horror movies.
The adults are impressed by the haunted house Kshin has created. Ming is too! Then Ming interferes and Kshin is really brave and runs straight into the simulation to help the others. Of course he doesn’t get very far and ends up very scared, but I feel that’s only realistic - it makes him likeable that he feared for his friends and wanted to help but he’s just a little boy and it ends up being too much for him and he is the one the adults have to rescue. The adults also prove themselves by being capable enough to defeat the illusions.
And Rick has to make the hard decision to wreck his new machine after it seemingly got a mind of it’s own.
It’s always Flash to rescues Kshin, Flash who carries Kshin, Flash who gave Kshin flying lessons in another epsiode... where is his connection to Mandrake?
Anyway, Ming makes plans to kidnap Kshin, who he calls “the little menace”, and the episode ends.
I like Part 2 better than Part 1. One battle simulation to show how it works to the viewer at the beginning would have been enough. But we’ve had two with the young Defenders and one with the adults. They could have left one out and maybe devote more time to Rick being so proud of his invention and then having to completely destroy it in the end. Kshin was surprisingly not that annoying. Him constantly wanting to do new simulations was a bit annoying after a while, yes, but necessary to show his enthusiasmn and to get the adults to do it since the other kids were tired of it already. Kshin running in to help them and then not being able to do anything was realistic and showed his bravery. Ming hinting at Kshin’s “diabolical imagination” could be used for fanfiction story ideas - I saw a discussion about “Dark Kshin” somewhere! A scene between Mandrake and Kshin would have been nice. Mandrake saved the day with his magic at least twice. I guess the episode would work without the warhead - just Ming trying to kill off the Defenders during their simulation and when this doesn’t work, kidnaps Kshin, creates the Mind Warriors and sends them after the Defenders. But I guess with the warhead, there’s more motivation for Ming. The Defenders stealing Ming’s ship and getting the warhead, leaving behind Garax in the Amazonas also shows them getting ahead of Ming, which I like. I feel like sometimes Ming tricks them a bit too often and they should be smarter.
Sorry about the format of this review, I really hope the rest of the episodes on this DVD will work. I do enjoy showing the pictures. But it is getting late and I didn’t have the patience to try and get it to work again right now. It was bad enough I had to retype the first part...
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