#for best results view from: top left > bottom left > bottom right > top right

[ph7soy]

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

“when will you learn that it isn’t about you and your problems? this is about my name–the prescott name.”

“nathan is everybody’s favorite voodoo doll–kill the rich kid!”

“yes, he takes serious meds–but that’s not his fault, his family treats him like a total freak!”

“i prefer the term ‘manipulated’–i became a sort of father figure to nathan.”

“i think about him chilling out on the grass in the other timeline–i hate what he did, but i can’t hate him.”

“…my life is hell.”

[killerpancakeburger]

One man's penalty is another man's prize

SUMMARY: When agreeing to lend a hand with the organisation of some military tests, you thought it would be limited to marking times and keeping scores. Statistically, there was no way that the... "creative" penalty you came up with would be selected, right?

And the chances for your boyfriend to be the one subjected to it had to be close to zero, right?

PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (Soaps calls Reader Ma'am twice, that's it)

TAGS: Civilian!Reader, Fat!Reader, Smug!Soap x1000, a bit Possessive!Soap, Established Relationship, flirting, banter, teasing, partial nudity. Making Shit Up for the Plot/military inaccuracies. Suggestive content but nothing graphic.

WORDS COUNT: 2k

A/N: crackfic...? Soap does push-ups fic. Soap wears booty shorts fic. That actually no one One (1) person asked for.

If you need "visual on the target", this piece by @rusticfurnace and this one by @wombywoo have been on my mind. (Hoping its ok to tag, if not, tell me)

For @glitterypirateduck Cod Vacation Mode Challenge, prompt 27.

A drop of sweat falls from your temple and lands onto the stack of papers you were scribbling on. You wipe off your dripping wet forehead with the back of your arm.

The torrid sun is beating down hard on the ground and bodies alike.

This unforgiving heat left you no respite all day long, despite the fact that all you did was sit and take notes. Drenched in sweat, you fan yourself with your notepad. Perspiration keeps accumulating between the rolls of your stomach no matter how many times you dry it off. Today's the base annual testing day, an unofficial gathering meant to measure soldiers’ performance and entertain some friendly competition.

You would almost regret committing to helping today by playing scribes, but the sadistic satisfaction of seeing others toiling away while you twiddle your thumbs is enough to thwart that feeling. That, and Soap's little… display.

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head when you arrived this morning and stumbled upon him stretching his legs, bent over, fingers aiming for his feet, wearing the shortest, thighest shorts you've ever seen. Then he greeted you as if nothing was out of the ordinary. You glanced in interrogation at Gaz and Ghost, who were respectively wearing Bermudas and tracksuits, and were met with a shrug and an eye roll.

To make matters worse, he traded his blue shirt for a sleeveless top that did wonders for his arms and shoulders - as if his tanned biceps weren't already a work of art and a weapon of mass destruction all at once.

You don’t know which incubus possessed him to wear booty shorts, but you definitely aren't complaining.

You spend the day ogling him shamelessly, knowing he was putting on a show for you. He'd sponge down his glistening face with the bottom of his shirt, offering you a tantalizing view of his toned stomach. He'd throw dazzling smiles, teasing winks and blow kisses your way. At some point, he even emptied his water bottle on his head, resulting in his shirt turning transparent and sticking to his skin in an almost obscene way.

His myriad of attentions made you dizzy, in the best of ways. You may have made yourself look like a lovesick fool, with your blissfully happy smiles and your stupid giggles, but except for the people you were close with, no one would dare to nag you about it - lest a certain Scottish sergeant with a big mouth and no fear of confrontation gets all up in their face.

Strong, bronzed hands heavily lean on your desk. Palms are turned towards you, fingers gripping the table's edge.

“M ‘ere fer my penalty.”

The voice is raspy, accent thick, tone charming and teasing at the same time.

You slowly look up from your paper to meet Soap's cerulean eyes; along the way you can’t help but peek at his tanned arms, his bulging biceps, the beads of sweat rolling down his neck, the familiar chin scar in the middle of his dark stubble. His shirt is soaked with sweat.

He's wearing the grin he has every time he lays eyes on you; a blinding, earnest thing. However, even that beguiling smile cannot hide the spark of triumph and playfulness in his gaze.

Johnny's terribly competitive, that's an open secret. It's no surprise that today's tests would fire him up. The perpetual FNG has a title to defend, after all, and with you watching, the stakes are high despite the tests’ results bearing no influence on their file.

But that excitement wasn’t supposed to target you.

“A penalty?” you repeat, unconvinced, twirling your pen between your fingers. “You?”

Doubt infused with sarcasm seeps in your tone, very much on purpose. You raise a skeptical eyebrow, on your guard. 

Your first instinct was to withdraw, prop yourself against the backrest, the distance between the two of you reduced to something too trivial to be proper, but you can’t back off from his implicit challenge. It's a well-crafted game with the two of you as its exclusive players. A dance of provocation and endearment, a mischievous yet comfortable back and forth.

The lack of privacy of it would usually discourage your bashful nature, who avoids confrontation at all costs. But the sergeant has figured out how to appeal to the competitive, driven part of you. So you stand your ground, brazenly, like you're the only two people in the world.

There is no way that Soap earned a penalty, no way that he lost. He's one of the best there is, if not the best - not that his ego needs the boost.

The SAS's youngest prodigue who beat all previous records, his name forever carved into the archives and his legend whispered among impressionable new recruits.

Not to mention that the way he said “my penalty” sounded more like “my prize” than anything else.

“‘ere. Proof.”

He hands out a piece of paper to you, a smug smirk not leaving his lips, one that is not without evoking the satisfied expression of the cat who got the cream. Your fingers brush his as you retrieve the “penalty receipt”, the contact feeling like flames licking your skin.

You take a break from defiantly holding his gaze to glance at the note. Its contents sends an ominous shiver down your spine, your eyes slightly widening in understanding.. and horror.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. The odds were, what, one in hundreds? Amplified by the fact that Soap was the one to get ahold of it, out of all competitors.

You vainly stare at your own scrawl, as if that could make the ink vanish, but reality simply gazes back. 

When asked to participate in making up a penalty, you wrote the silliest thing that came to mind, as a sort of inside joke only yourself would be privy to. Eight innocuous little words that would sign your downfall.

“Do fifty push-ups with me on their back”.

The fifty was an arbitrary pick between twenty that you judged too lenient, and a hundred that would take too long; however, you've thought a bit more about the “me on their back” part. You were heavier than the average soldier's rucksack - significantly so. It had to be a challenge, so you've made it this way.

Yet you never expected to actually end up on someone's back.

How Johnny managed to get his hands on your penalty out of all of them, you'd probably never find out, but you couldn’t deny that the “me” mentioned was you. Indeed, on top of your… recognizable handwriting, the note was adorned with little scribbles you had mindlessly doodled while bored. They were simple but easily identifiable: a foamy bar of soap, a deadpan skull, a jerrycan wearing a cap, and a stack of cash with a hat, or, put differently, the Task Force 141 stylized.

A version of the team that Soap was well-versed with, having witnessed you drawing it countless times.

There was no way out of the corner you were backed into - Soap put you on the spot, the brightest one possible, and that little shit knew it perfectly - did it on purpose.

You sigh exaggeratedly as you get up. You bypass your desk to stand in front of Johnny, not missing the way he looks you up and down. This is the first time he's seeing you in shorts, and despite how self-conscious you are about the girth of your chafing thighs, he makes it obvious how much he's enjoying the view. You cross your arms with an amused smile on your lips.

“You know you’re not supposed to enjoy your penalty, right? Kinda defeats the purpose.”

His smile mirrors yours as he bends over to whisper in your ear, close enough for you to feel his body heat, but not making a move to touch you.

“And ye do know I’d never let any of those eejits sweat and grunt under ye? That's my prerogative.”

Despite the shiver his gravelly voice sent down your spine,you throw your head back in laughter.

“Ooh so that's what this is! You're jealous.”

He remains unfazed by the accusation.

“Call it what ye want.”

“You do know I'm heavier than your rucksack, right? Much heavier? You’re going to hurt yourself.”

His eyes glint with hunger for challenge.

“Don't knock it til you've tried it.”

“Fine. Drop and give me twenty, pretty boy.”

His grin becomes blinding. He reaches behind to grab the back of his shirt and rips it off like it burned him. 

You gape despite yourself in front of his glistening chest, all tanned skin, white scars, hard stomach and soft pecs, and he gently lifts your chin up with his index finger to close your mouth, an extremely smug smirk adorning his lips.

“Yes, Ma'am. Right away, Ma'am.��

From a stranger's perspective, his reply drips with an insolence that matches the cockiness he exhibited all day. But you know better; you can hear the underlying docility in his tone, the one he expresses when you two are intimate.

He keeps his eyes on yours as he kneels, the display way too lascivious for how public it is. You bite your lips, frowning your eyebrows in warning, but say nothing as he obeys and performs the twenty push-ups asked - on one arm. It is good that the position prevents him from staring at you, because you reckon otherwise he'd be giving you the slyest grin.

More than the impressive show of strength; more than the way his skin glows with sweat; more than the flaunting of his imposing muscles; the knowledge that he's undertaking it all for you is what tightens the band of arousal in your stomach, along with multiplying the bubbles of happiness and affection in your chest.

“Gonna take a seat, bonnie?”

He's forced to heckle you since you were so caught up in your staring that you forgot that the next part of the penalty required your participation.

And of course, he chose the cheekiest way to do so. The question, innocent at first glance, sent you back into the bedroom. The last time he asked you that was right before you sat on his face. And the time before that was when you rid him.

You oblige yourself to focus on the here and now, and carefully straddle Soap's back.

“Are you sure you can- Woh.”

He interrupts you by suddenly lowering and rising his body, obliging you to grab his shoulders to keep your balance, but easily demonstrating that the added weight has very little impact on his performance. 

“Alright, alright, you convinced me,” you yield. “That's only one out of fifty, though.”

“And yet ye dare doubt me again,” he grumbles under his breath, initiating a steadfast pace.

It is a shame that your current position prevents you from watching his face, but you concentrate on other things instead. Never before did you have the opportunity to revel in the glorious vision that was his powerful back.

You tease him by periodically clenching your thighs without warning, squeezing the meat of his shoulders or ruffling the back of his drenched mohawk.

You let out an impressed whistle when he reaches fifty, before scrambling to liberate him. He pretends needing your help to stand up, and you give him your hands without hesitation. Once he's up, you affectionately shove his shirt into his naked torso, an implicit command to make himself proper.

Following his dressing, you two stare into each others' eyes, hands in hands, like lovebirds until his stomach roars like thunder. 

You giggle; he sighs exaggeratedly, suddenly bowed down by an invisible weight, like he wasn’t overflowing with energy a minute ago.

“M starvin’. Tae death.”

“Wouldn’t have guessed.”

He starts walking towards the canteen's building, after a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows and his eyes motionning between you and the coveted reserve of food in a silent but strong proposition. You purposely let him take the lead so you can sneak behind him and grab a generous handful of his ass.

He turns his head towards you with mock outrage on his face, a hand pressed on chest, quickly replaced by appreciation.

“Been itching to do that all day,” you confess with an impish smile.

Walking side by side, you start happily humming, and just as you let your hand drop, he seizes it and puts it back on his buttock.

[intervex]

Autistic pride flag survey #2

A big thank you to everybody who participated in the survey I put out a week ago asking folks to rate 60 different proposed autism flags on a scale of 1 to 5.

I have put together a shortlist of 13 flags based on the results of survey #1, and a second survey which asks people to rate the ten flags along different criteria (aesthetics, symbolism, accessibility, etc).

💛 Survey #2 is open for responses here! 💛

Shortlist selection exposition: To assemble a shortlist of flags for survey #2, I looked at which flags from survey #1 had a median of at least 3 out of 5. I considered flags with a median of 2 or less to be nonviable: too many people disapprove of them.

I then sorted the flags from which had the highest proportion of votes for strong agree (SA) to least. I think this is an important measure for flags to consider. A flag that is popularly viewed as "eh it's fine but I don't love it" seems unlikely to get a lot of uptake. These designs had a median above 3 and ≥20% strong agree (SA) Sorted from highest SA to lowest (left to right, top to bottom)

The Extranthaic version (upper right) of the Julietanboy design (below, left) consistently outperformed the original Julietanboy design, having a higher mean (3.5 vs 3.3) and higher SA rate (21% vs 20%). So Survey #2 only includes the Extranthaic version.

These designs had a median of 3 and ≥15% SA Sorted from highest SA to lowest (left to right, top to bottom)

The nautilus on plain grey had a lower median and mean than the nautilus on grey with diagonal stripes (3 vs 4, and 3.3 vs 3.4, respectively). But it had a higher SA rate (24% vs 23%).

Some folks in the reblogs of Survey #1 said they preferred flags with more simple colour schemes, so I tried adding in some simplified versions of the nautilus with just 7 or 8 shell segments after the survey went live. The 7-segment variant outperformed the 8-shell variant, but still was not as popular as the original. So, Survey #2 only has the 9-segment version.

The pun flag did rather well in terms of SA (19%), though it had a relatively low mean of 2.9.

These designs had a median of 3 and ≥10% SA Sorted from highest SA to lowest (left to right, top to bottom)

The nautilus on plain grey consistently outperformed the nautilus on plain white, which had a mean of 3.0 and SA of 13%. So I didn't include the nautilus-on-white in the second survey.

Of the flags with concentric infinities, the version with disability pride colours on plain white did the best (mean: 3.0, SA 15%). The one with ROYLG on grey had a mean of 2.9 and SA of 13%. These flags had a median of 3 but below 10% SA Sorted from highest SA to lowest (left to right, top to bottom)

Most of the flags in this set have a distribution that is a bell curve centred around 3 -- most people were neutral on it, and not that many people were strongly for nor strongly against.

The original Autistic Empire flag outperformed the versions which segmented the infinity. It stood out for having a rather skewed distribution: 8% of participants gave it a strongly agree, versus 24% who gave it a strongly disagree.

Full results of survey #1 here

💛 Survey #2 is open for responses here! 💛

[mhsdatgo]

Hotd writers choosing to adapt Mushroom's records out of everything they had in hand is the worst decision they could've ever come up with btw.

It's been stated time and time again that while F&B is purely built on records and gossip and morphed retelling of events out of bias and propaganda, Mushroom is the LEAST reliable of all the sources. He's a fool at Rhaenyra's court, his job is make people gasp and laugh, not retell historical events.

We're talking about the same guy who said that he had a penis large enough to match the size of his head, mind you. Also, he's obsessed with little girls giving BJs to Targaryen men somewhere in Flea Bottom. It's happened twice according to him.

The writers' reasoning for this choice is basically that F&B was written by Maesters and Septons, who were all greedy men, apart from being Green supporters. So anything they say is false, anything they say is written with sexist intent. Writer's intention was to do the exact opposite.

Then tell me, for the love of God, tell me, why is every woman apart from Rhaenyra, who is clearly whitewashed and I can go into heavy detail about that, basically shunned?

The Maesters claim Alicent left Viserys' body to rot and swell for days preparing and LEADING Rhaenyra's usurpation. She's the leader of the Greens, she and she alone. Not Otto. The Green Council answers only to her orders, they are loyal to HER.

I've seen people argue that since Alicent is what Maesters view as an "ideal" woman, then they would try anything to paint her in the best light possible. While I agree that this may be true, I don't think this is the case. In history books, even in real life, women are rarely painted as leaders or important figures.

For Queen Alicent to be written as THE face of the Greens, you know this mama wasn't playing around.

Now, how is this:

In ANY WAY, even comparable to THIS?:

At the end of ep.8 and quite literally the entirety of ep.9, Alicent is shown as a lost woman who doesn't even seem to know what she's doing, pushed by Viserys' last words about prophecy rather than SHEER DESIRE to get her hands dirty for her children's safety (which by the way will always be superior imo). The Green Council conspires behind her back, and on top of it all, she's yelled at by one of her own men and is made to take it like a beaten dog.

Moreover, we had Helaena's ROAST (yes it was a roast, my Queen inherited cunty lines from her cunty mother) against Aegon and her coronation, the latter being addressed as something quite wholesome, if you ask me. Alicent places her own crown upon her daughter's head and calls her "my Queen" after kissing her cheeks and kneeling. Afterwards, her and Alicent are literally written to be the only ones who could get through Aegon II's thick skull when he wanted to start the war right then and there as a result of Rhaenyra crowning herself on Dragonstone.

You hear me??? Aegon sat down and fucking listened to the two women in his life. Not the Council, them. These two were dogwalking him, the KING, on the daily, how is that sexist writing on the Maesters' part????

Yet these things are nowhere to be seen in Ryan Condal and Sara Hess' "progressive" show. We got beaten dog Alicent and Helaena being nothing but a walking spoiler machine other than yet another instrument to paint Aegon as the big bad wolf and usurper. Not a single scene of them counseling Aegon.

Baela and Rhaena have nearly no lines or scenes that don't show them in the presence of the Strongs. They are seemingly okay with anything Rhae throws their way because it's Rhae. The one and only scene about Baela openly speaking to her grandma about her wish to fight for Rhaenyra was deleted.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra is stripped of her rage and thirst for vengeance, and instead made to negotiate for peace while in the books she was the one pushing to go to war first.

Can you tell me, again, how the fanfiction that is Hotd supposed to prove that they want to be "progressive" in contrast to the Maesters' "sexist" work, when literally all they do is whitewash Rhaenyra and sideline any woman who isn't her?

[rosyronkey]

hi! i wrote an essay about rosy ronkey and her clothes, and i hypothesized what time period i think shes from/inspired by ^^ below if you wanna read more :))

ive been fixated (or had a special interest or whatever you want to call it) on rosy ronkey for a YEAR today. i've always been pretty interested in her outfit from an aesthetically pleasing point of view, but recently i wanted to see if i could find any trends and time periods in the inspirations of her clothes, which is what this essay is about! it’s going to be an explanation of most of her clothes, top to bottom, from what i can assume with the research i've done. i say research, but i probably don’t have the best sources? they’ll be linked below, but it was really more cross-referencing than anything else lol

i reached out to annie montgomerie for comment/criticism, but she’s obviously very busy and i enjoyed my research from a subjective point of view :)

basic specs on rosy (no one else but me cares): looking at rosy, the only zoomorphic, or animal looking, aspect of hers is her head. judging by proportions and cross-referencing, she looks to have the body of an american girl doll. this is just what i’ve noticed, but annie’s most recent stuff is way less anthropomorphized compared to rosy and the group she was made with. looking at annie’s most recent exhibit, hand me downs, every single piece is completely animal, with hand-sculpted claws, paws, wings and hooves. some of these dolls legs still look like american girl doll legs, but most everything else is animalistic. this isn’t important, but i just thought id mention it because artists’ growth over time is cool!

starting with her coat, it looks like a double-breasted red childrens’ coat with two rows of two buttons each. these kinds of coats are still available today, but i could find the closest matches by looking at 1920s childrens’ coats, specifically rothschild coats. the rothschild family has a long and complicated history, but all that’s important to know is that they are new york based (which doesn’t totally fit my assumptions about her; in general i assume all of annie montgomerie’s dolls are british because of her nationality) and they’ve been in business for over 100 years. by cross-referencing the growing style of double-breasted coats in the 1920s, and the style of rothschild childrens’ coats in ads from the time, i feel like it’s easy to assume rosy's character has this coat, or at least was very heavily inspired by it.

a theory i’ve seen before is that the ticket on her coat is a luggage label. these were used during WWII to evacuate british children during the blitz. the history press site says luggage labels listed “name, school and evacuation authority,” and is also where i got most of my information. i want to tentatively deny this theory. i'm pretty sure the ticket is an annie montgomerie staple opposed to a part of rosys' character. she's shown with the tag in the yorkshire sculpture park video, and on gerard way’s website, but she’s missing it in all the photos posted by annie montgomerie herself on facebook and instagram. almost every single annie montgomerie piece on display or for sale has a tag as well. i love this theory, and it’s probably what got me interested in researching her outfit in the first place, but i don’t think i could prove it if i tried.

other than the ticket, she has white roses on the left side of her coat and some smaller twigs? sticks? pinned to her collar. white roses symbolize purity, youthfulness, innocence, and in some contexts, respect for the departed. i couldn’t find any historical photos of children with roses in their outfits, but across the board that was the result i got for their meaning. i can’t discern what she has on her right collar for the life of me, if someone else can figure this out, PLEASE tell me

her dress is pink, with a cinched embroidered waist and a peter pan collar. peter pan collars became popular in the 1920s, and have been a staple of childrens’ dresses since (sources for this one were a few blogs and wikipedia, but also some ads, so i feel pretty confident with it.) some ads for girls’ dresses in the 1920s had the same soft pleats and embroidered waist as seen on rosys’ dress. i don’t think there’s a meaning behind the color, except that it compliments the red coat and her fur.

her stockings are standard, I couldn’t find much special meaning behind them, british children have been wearing stockings forever, and for girls especially, stockings became more popular in the 1920s as dresses got shorter. usually they were sheer and nude, and rosys’ look like the gray kind kids wear today, but i think it’s still period appropriate to an extent. her shoes look like red mary janes for american girl dolls, just more scuffed and dirtied. mary jane shoes themselves have been around for a while (called “bar shoes” originally,) but they got their name in 1904. in one of the first drafts for this, i read the fairy tale “the red shoes” to see if it offered any insight. i thought it’d be fun to relate, but it’s just a popular danish fairy tale, and it was hard for me to entertain the idea for long.

TLDR: i think rosy ronkeys outfit is inspired by british 1920s fashion!

that’s all I have! i apologize if this was underwhelming or overwhelming or whatever, i had no model to base this off of and the only tumblr essays i read are from my friends <3 i hope you enjoyed! i love rosy ronkey!

link to my dumbfuck google doc with all the links and braindump on it :)

[deathbypixelz]

Alright. I'm making this post because I was unpleasantly surprised to find Microsoft had forcibly downloaded an """"ai assistant"""" onto my computer (called Copilot), and because finding a site that actually told me how to kill it for good -- in clear, truly step-by-step terms -- was way harder than it needed to be.

Preface: this is only relevant if you're running Windows 11.

Here is your target:

If you see this logo on your taskbar -- or... have Edge installed on Windows 11 -- you've got Copilot. You can't delete it on its own, Microsoft has integrated it into the OS as best they can. The most you can do is disable it (instructions for which are at the very end of this post).

So... to REALLY get rid of it you need to uninstall Microsoft Edge, because it's a part of/reliant on Edge. A lot of bells and whistles of Windows are also reliant on Edge, like widgets, but I never use those. I use my PC almost exclusively for gaming, and I don't want this slimy "ai" shit on my computer. I use Firefox anyway. Edge can go die as far as I'm concerned.

Here's the actual steps, copy-pasted from a website that took me way too long to find. It also really makes my browser chug for some reason, which is why I'm copy-pasting the whole thing. If you still want to look at the site itself, put it in reader view as fast as you can (link to site).

1.) Open Microsoft Edge, type "edge://settings/help" in the address bar, and then press Enter.

2.) Click "About Microsoft Edge" at the bottom of the left-hand pane. Copy the version number at the top of the screen, under Microsoft Edge.

3.) Press Windows Key + S to open Windows Search.

4.) Type "Command Prompt", right-click the result, and then select "Run as Administrator".

5.) The User Account Control (UAC) prompt will appear. Click "Yes".

6.) Navigate to Edge’s “Installer” directory by using the cd command. Depending on which directory your Command Prompt opens in by default, you may need to use the "cd .." command to go back a level or two.

Once ready, run this command:

cd “Program Files (x86)\Microsoft\Edge\Application\Version Number\Installer”

Replace "Version Number" with your actual version number copied earlier.

7.) Next, run this command to uninstall Microsoft Edge:

setup –uninstall –force-uninstall –system-level

((It will look like nothing happened! Don't worry!))

8.) Restart your PC for the changes to take place.

((HOWEVER, Windows will try to reinstall it the next time your PC updates (or whenever it feels like it lol) so there's a second half to this))

1.) Press Windows Key + R to open Run.

2.) Type "regedit" in the text box and click OK to open the Registry Editor.

3.) The User Account Control (UAC) prompt will appear. Click "Yes".

4.) In the Registry Editor, navigate to HKEY_LOCAL_MACHINES\SOFTWARE\Microsoft.

5.) Right-click the "Microsoft" folder, hover your cursor over "New", and then select "Key".

6.) Rename the new Key to "EdgeUpdate".

7.) Right-click EdgeUpdate, hover your cursor over "New", and then select "DWORD (32-bit) Value".

8.) Right-click the new value, which is currently named "New Value #1".

9.) Select "Rename" from the context menu.

10.) Rename the value to "DoNotUpdateToEdgeWithChromium".

11.) Right-click the newly-named DoNotUpdateToEdgeWithChromium value and select "Modify" from the context menu.

12.) The Edit DWORD (32-bit) Value window will appear. Change the Value data to "1" and then click OK.

((You are now free. If you ever run into a really serious, unavoidable issue with your OS that's clearly a result of Edge being gone, you can redownload it like a regular app. But you should be fine.))

((And, if for some reason you want still want Edge around but just want the copilot thing gone, here's what you do:

The command, for ease of copy-pasting: reg add HKCU\Software\Policies\Microsoft\Windows\WindowsCopilot /v TurnOffWindowsCopilot /t REG_DWORD /d 1 /f

You can't actually truly delete Copilot (without deleting Edge), only disable it. And as the reply says, you do have to do this every time you turn the computer on. I haven't tested that myself, but I believe it. I assume/hope that excludes just waking the computer up after it goes to sleep, but I don't know for sure.))

[gingerteaonthetardis]

ThreeRose and cozy maybe? 😳

hm... perhaps writing about rose tyler and liz shaw in the same room during my most favorite bisexual classic who era has fixed me? this is a bit of a long one. please enjoy.

[read on AO3] [prompt me!]

The Doctor chose to blame the Brigadier, of course, given that very little was allowed to be his fault. Only in matters of supreme cosmic importance—Rose had often noticed and remarked upon this—did he enthusiastically drag the responsibility square onto his own shoulders and insist on keeping it there.

It was a trait almost as endearing as it was infuriating.

But when it came to practicalities, such as, “Did you actually ask about rooms while Liz and I were out chasing the escaped Cryptons, or did you just interrogate the poor bartender?” the answer was almost always something like, “Well, what do we even bother with UNIT for if they don't take care of room and board, Rose? Tell me that!”

The result was the same, however, regardless of who took the blame: the four of them had been left out in the cold—figuratively speaking—for the night. No rooms to let, and nowhere else in the postage stamp-sized town to ride out what was sure to be a long, rainy night. Only through Rose’s efforts and the barman's good grace were they being allowed to pass the hours, however sleeplessly, in the shelter of the pub which made up the bottom floor of the Wolf & Badger.

Fortunately, they had managed to secure—and retain—a comfortable corner booth and a steady supply of drinks. Or rather, Rose had done. By buttering up said barman, who had been quite friendly to her even before she slipped a stack of bills across the bartop.

Her UNIT salary was good for something, at least.

Viewed from any angle, the booth was the best seat in the house: just the right distance from the hearth to keep everyone warm without overheating, but secluded enough that they could talk in relative privacy. Not too far from the bartender either—named Lewis, Rose reported back, Lewis Badger, as in Wolf & Badger; he had two daughters, a Cocker Spaniel named Katrina, and a passion for model trains. She was thrilled to report he poured quite generously.

On top of the comfort factor, the window just behind Liz's head allowed them a clear view of the street, in case any more Cryptons came toddling through the square before the rest of the UNIT convoy could arrive. Their ETA, according to the Brigadier, was sometime around dawn.

Which meant they just had to hang on—Rose reached over and checked the Brigadier’s watch—about five more hours.

She'd never particularly looked forward to sleeping in the back of a UNIT service Jeep, but she'd done it before, and by god, she planned to do it again.

“Miss Tyler,” drawled the Brigadier, withdrawing his wrist from her grasp, “I'm afraid your constant examinations of my timepiece will lead you to the same conclusion all sane people inevitably reach: time does not speed up simply because you wish it.”

He frowned as he spoke—he was always frowning at her, always furrowing his brow and calling her “Miss Tyler” while Liz got the “my dear” treatment.

She was never sure whether she ought to be insulted or flattered by his presumed deference. It seemed to stem largely from her existence as the Doctor’s “plus one,” a factor placing her firmly outside the normal UNIT hierarchy. But the Brigadier carried on calling her “Miss Tyler,” as if the formality alone could make her in some capacity “official,” and therefore less of a thorn in his stiff, well-starched side.

To his credit, it had sort of worked. Eventually. She was a consultant now, like Liz.

Next to her, the Doctor sat up a little straighter, and she stifled a smile. She’d been lost in her thoughts, but she still ought to have known he couldn’t let such a generalised assertion from his old friend stand.

Now you've done it, Alistair.

“Actually, Brigadier, I think you're wrong about that,” the Doctor pronounced with typical paternalistic glee. “There are certain corners of reality where wishes have immense power—power enough to shape the entire universe, bending time and space to the rules of that wish. They're called Spero Quadrants. Highly rare.”

The name sounded distantly familiar, and she squinted through the haze of her memory. “Hang on, we’ve been to one of those. Couple… hundred years ago?”

The Brigadier’s eyebrows arched expressively. “Hundred years?”

“She's older than she looks,” the Doctor replied, patting her arm with affection before visibly noticing her empty pint glass.

He hadn't so much as touched his own drink, but that was hardly surprising. Her alien often claimed he didn’t understand the human preoccupation with intoxication, though she did recall certain… rather lushy moments in their jumbled up future-past. She was nonetheless charmed by how swiftly he switched his full glass for hers, tossing her a smile and a wink along the way.

“Now, as for Spero Quadrants,” he went on, “they are a relatively new phenomenon—on the scale of the universe, I mean. Been around maybe a few hundred million years or so. Typically, they are religious in origin, but they've evolved mostly away from—”

“Hang on,” Liz piped up, finally taking an interest in the conversation. “That's nonsense.”

Though her voice was slightly slurred, it was not by drink. Of all of them, Liz was the least night-owlish; she’d once confessed to Rose that her preferred routine, when the Doctor wasn't mucking it up, often had her in bed by half past nine and rising again about five in the morning. Given the lateness of the hour and the longness of the day, Liz was just starting to become charmingly sleepy. Rose grinned.

Meanwhile, the Doctor was making a show of being affronted. “What's nonsense?”

He took great care to foster their endearingly adversarial relationship, Rose always noticed with a smile. It was important to him. Liz was something like the retro Scully to his extraterrestrial Mulder—that is, if Mulder and Scully had played with lab equipment and were more prone to fits of schoolgirlish laughter.

“All of it! It's patently ridiculous. If such places existed and were as powerful as you say,” Liz said, getting into it a little, sloe-eyed stare refilling with its usual keen light, “surely one poorly thought out wish would have undone the entire fabric of reality by now!”

“My dear girl,” replied the Doctor—really, had he and the Brigadier gotten some sort of pet name memo or something? “I did mention that they are rare. And you'll recall I also said ‘change,’ not ‘destroy’! Spero Quadrants are by no means lawless, anarchic places. In fact—”

“Oi, this is our table!”

The entire party looked up at the interruption, which came in the form of a wiry, totally inoffensive but also truly drunk man in a tweed waistcoat. He was scowling fit to set his face that way, and had thumped his hands down on their table as he spoke, violently rattling their glasses.

The Brigadier, who was closest to the man, reacted first. “I beg your pardon?” His moustache twitched.

The drunk man didn’t recognise what Rose knew to be a clear warning shot.

“You heard me,” the stranger hurled back. His weight leaned heavily on his arms, as if he needed the table’s support to keep him upright. “S’our table. Best seat in the house—”

“Hear, hear!” Liz agreed, lifting up a pint glass that was very much not hers. Probably one of the Brigadier’s. Rose snickered.

But he wasn’t done. “You nicked it hours back and we’ve waited our turn, but it’s our regular table, we sit here every Wednesday, you know! We’re good, regular cust’mers,” he said, stretching the word regular to epic proportions, chewing on it like it ought to contain more syllables in its gristle. “Not like you lot. So, now—now—th-the fellows and I figure you’d best be going!” The man punctuated his point with an accusing finger and an intense wobble. “‘Cause it’s ours!”

“Yes, you’ve mentioned that several times,” the Doctor drily replied. “My good man, I really think you ought to sit down now.”

The man merely blinked.

“I think that’s what he’s trying to do,” Rose pointed out. “And there’s no reason he shouldn’t—actually, shift,” and she wiggled closer to Liz, tugging the Doctor’s sleeve, “there’s plenty of room for one more. Maybe two, if we squeeze in. It’ll be a bit snug—”

“Miss Tyler,” cut in the Brigadier, “I hardly think that’s—”

“Don’t be rude, Brigadier! The man just wants a minute with his special table. It is nice, with the fire and everything. Very intimate. Here,” and she smirked to see Liz already snuggling up beside the Brigadier, uncomplaining, her drowsy head tipping toward his shoulder. “There you go. Nice and comfortable. Doctor?”

But she didn’t need to say a word. The Doctor, too, had wedged himself in closer beside her, right where the booth began to curve. His eyes twinkled with repressed amusement as he draped an arm around her shoulders under the guise of squeezing in. Velvet tickled the back of her neck.

But no such joy from the Brigadier. “Doctor!” His moustache was really going now, his brows hanging like blades about to come down on some unlucky bloke’s head. “Would you please—”

“Now, now, dear Brigadier. Rose is right. We needn’t be stingy with our good fortune. Come,” and the Doctor patted the seat beside him, looking back at the drunk man, “rest your weary bones a minute, sir, you look as if you’re about to tip over.”

The confusion in the man’s eyes was a sight to behold. He couldn’t seem to settle on where to look—at the sanguine expression Rose wore while she curled up to the Doctor, or at the glowering Brigadier, or at Liz, nestled comfortably between the former and the latter, looking for all the world as drunk as he. “Is this some sort of a joke?” he said, with a note of accusation. “I said we want it to our-selves, not to share with a load of—”

“Steady on, mate,” Rose interrupted briskly. “I’ve smacked men for less.”

The Doctor nodded. “She really has.” He couldn’t seem to help sounding admiring, which further widened her smile.

“Remember King Markitron? God, he was just begging for it, with all that robot overlord stuff.”

“I do remember that, quite clearly,” the Doctor replied with a smirk. “Still, it was a lovely visit. Not exactly right for a romantic outing, but I’ve always found a sun-soaked sapient revolution quite stimulating—”

“Good Lord,” the Brigadier sighed, head falling into his hands. Rose hid her laugh in the lapel of the Doctor’s coat.

“Look, are you going to sit down or not?” the Doctor asked, returning his attention once more to their drunken interruptor. “We haven’t got all night—or, rather, we do have all night, but I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind, and you’ll answer them better when you look a little less green.”

“He does look ill,” Liz observed, yawning in a rather loud, squeaking way that plainly embarrassed her. “Sorry.”

“It’s perfectly all right, my dear.” The Doctor said warmly, while Rose reached over, giving Liz’s hand a comforting squeeze. “It is rather late, and you’ve had a dreadfully long day. Most upright citizens would be in bed by now! Luckily for us, this man appears quite the fellow degenerate. Now, where was I? Yes,” he nodded, “my first question is: if there was one thing you could wish for—one thing in all the world, with no limitations—I’m trying to prove a point—what would it be, sir? What would be your greatest desire?”

And that seemed to be the final straw for the man. His glassy eyes grew wide in his flushed face, and he shook his head rapidly before pushing off the table with a stagger. “You’re all sick,” he croaked, looking between them all again, at their various states of interconnectedness. “And quite possibly mad!”

“Quite possibly,” the Brigadier glumly agreed.

“Perhaps you’d better save yourself,” Rose suggested.

And just like that, the stranger was stumbling off, back to his already dispersing group of friends. He kept shooting them furtive glances while slipping on his rain coat and mumbling what she assumed were virulent oaths to his friends, but it went no further than that. The other men barely seemed to have noticed his absence, let alone the loss of their “regular table.”

However, even once he was gone, neither Rose, Liz, or the Doctor made any effort to move. Except in the shoulder region: both Rose and the Doctor’s began to shake with laughter that couldn’t completely be held back.

“The poor man,” Rose giggled. “I think we really frightened him.”

“Oh, yes, quite. There is nothing as terrifying as a warm welcome!”

“Was that your plan?” the Brigadier accused Rose. “Repelling flies with honey?”

“Don’t think that’s how the saying goes,” she shrugged, “but a little friendliness goes a long way.”

“Well said! It is a lesson you could stand to learn, Brigadier,” the Doctor needled, though his smile was only growing wider. He so loved to disconcert the man.

“I am perfectly capable of achieving my aims in a given social situation.” The Brigadier all but turned up his nose at them, as if they would be fools for thinking otherwise. “Though my methods are less… uncouth than Miss Tyler’s, they are equally effective.”

“So, you agree!” Rose teased with another laugh. “I am effective.”

His eyes glinted. “And brash. And impulsive.”

“Well, I have to take my compliments where I can get them, don’t I, Alistair?” She preened a little when his lips quirked—there was the twinge of humour he was rumoured to possess—and leaned back even further into the Doctor’s embrace.

Between his body and the fire, she was nice and settled now. She hardly minded the ache beginning in her back from sitting so long after all the running she’d done earlier. And the company was good, even if diminishing by the moment.

She watched Liz’s head give a final slump toward the Brigadier, who seemed resigned—in fact, not entirely upset—to be playing her pillow. His eyes kept darting down to the amber crown of her head and then away again, lips pressing and uncompressing. Something warmed in her chest.

“He didn’t allow me to prove my point,” the Doctor said absently.

Rose peered up at him, reaching to comb her fingers through his hair. “And what was your point, my darling, big-brained alien?” Across the table, Alistair cleared his throat, but she just tossed him a grin. She really must have been more tired than she felt; her mind and muscles were all sort of lax, and she was feeling terribly endeared to everybody. “That if wishes were fishes, we’d all swim in riches?”

The Doctor looked quite amused. “No, my love.” Ah, sod the memo. She was really doing just fine, wasn’t she? “We’ll try it again with Miss Shaw. Liz, my dear girl, are you awake?”

“Yes, Doctor,” came the muddled reply.

“I pose the same question to you that I posed earlier: what would you wish for, right now, if you could wish for anything?”

Liz’s eyes opened, and though they held weariness, they were still impressively thoughtful. “Well, seeing how I’ve no wish to unravel the very fabric of the universe,” she emphasised, “I think I’d wish… to be in my own bed, with my own soft sheets…” She turned her head into Alistair’s shoulder and sighed happily. “And pillows. Fluffy pillows.”

Rose’s eyes met the Brigadier’s, and she shook her head, smiling.

“And you, Brigadier?”

“I don’t see what the use—”

“Come now,” the Doctor said, rather softly. “If you could wish for anything.”

There was a brief pause in which she thought Alistair might try to argue again. But then his gaze again turned to Liz, and to his pint glass, which was nearly empty now. Then to the fire, just off to the side. It crackled merrily, casting its warm light over the whole of the table. She realised he was giving the question serious consideration.

“The same sort of thing, I suppose,” he answered gruffly, after a few moments. “Maybe health and happiness for my family. I know the decent thing is to wish for peace in our time, the end of all wars and all that…” For about half a second, he actually looked quite sheepish. “But mostly I wish to end my career in good standing, reputation intact, without some new alien menace blowing up decades of work.”

The three with eyes still open exchanged small, knowing smiles. It was a rather unlikely proposition, put that way—certainly worthy of a massive, cosmic wish.

“What of you, Rose? Do you remember what you wished for?”

“Galoshes,” she replied.

The Brigadier sputtered, but the Doctor looked delighted. “Really?”

“Yeah, galoshes and a rain kit. I’d just ruined mine on Elsignon. That whole big Sontaran invasion, you remember? Their lasers tore my jacket to ribbons. And we were a good million billion miles from the nearest M&S, so I just wished for galoshes and a new coat.” She turned to pat the glossy red rain coat hanging over the edge of the booth behind her. “I already had everything else I wanted.”

“You do talk such nonsense, Miss Tyler,” the Brigadier said, but she swore he sounded almost fond that time.

She nodded her head at him politely. “Why, thank you, Brigadier. What did you wish for, Doctor?”

“A little more than galoshes,” he answered with a laugh, nudging his thigh against hers. “We hadn’t been travelling together long, if you’ll remember.”

And she did; Rose remembered very clearly what an irritant she’d been to him back then. In what she came to find out was his first body, he had hardly any patience for her at all. But they’d still forged a kind of connection, however unlikely, she thought with a rush of fondness. Sometimes she even missed the old codger—always going on about samples and non-interference and where has Susan got to?

“At the time,” the Doctor went on, “I found your presence most… how can I say it? Vexing.”

Alistair cleared his throat again. “A wholly unique experience, I’m sure.” She kicked him underneath the table—not hard, barely more than a nudge—but of course, he was far too mature to respond in kind. Still, his lips twitched again. Victory.

“I was so ‘vexing’ you tried to wish me away?”

“Not exactly. I wished—and I remember this precisely—I wished that you would ‘find the place you were looking for, the place you truly belonged, so you could bloody well leave off and stop bothering me’!” His impression of himself was spot-on, almost eerily so, though she couldn’t imagine that past body using such language.

She must have been a much greater annoyance than even she’d guessed.

“Oh, lovely,” she mock-sulked. “Ta, Doctor, that’s really nice.”

“Good luck that the wish came true. Albeit… not in the way I expected.” Turning his head, he brushed an uncharacteristically subdued kiss across her hairline. She leaned into it, enjoying its gentle pressure, and for once, there was no throat-clearing from the Brigadier. Then the Doctor said, “That’s the point, isn’t it? Most people don’t really make reality-destroying wishes. It’s all home and comfort, maybe a bit of a better life. The removal of some inconvenience in their way. And let us remember that it is already the nature of all things to change, even—as our sluggish friend puts it—the very fabric of reality. Most wishes are for things which might have come true anyway. They are a selection of one potential option on a massive, cosmic buffet of possibility.

“Of course, there are exceptions… many exceptions,” he added solemnly, “and consequences, and those have to be dealt with when they come. But for the most part, those who stumble upon a Spero Quadrant—for they cannot be sought, that's a very important thing to remember, they can only be found—most of those people come up against a similar problem to the Brigadier, or to you, Rose. They cannot think of a meaningful wish which does not carry with it an implicit risk or danger. Or they cannot think on a grand enough scale, for every species is in some way myopic. Limited, no matter how advanced. Sometimes, they simply fear the prospect of getting what they want.” The hand draped over her shoulder flicked up to tweak her ear. “So even though they could have anything in the universe, they wish for galoshes.”

At that, the table fell into thoughtful silence, with only the background bustle of the closing pub for accompaniment. The sound of dishes being washed, of glasses being put on shelves. Most of the regular customers had gone away; Lewis was only really keeping the lights and the taps on for their sakes, and with that knowledge came a certain sense of shared isolation. Almost like sneaking into a school after dark. The rain outside continued pouring down, and here they were, inside their little pocket of warmth and light and friendship.

Rose wasn’t at all sure of the Doctor's logic. But she couldn't help thinking about the nature of his wish, too—even at his most frustrated, he'd wanted her to find true belonging. That she might find it with him, on the TARDIS and off, alongside all his many varied and wonderful companions, had never occurred to him; it hadn't been a possibility he'd known to anticipate.

So perhaps he was right. About wishes. About the fundamental desires of most beings. Were they really for small things? For warmth and comfort and a bit of peace?

Those things probably weren’t, on the whole, very extravagant or dangerous.

A little longer and she realised she'd been staring at the Brigadier’s hands where they rested on the table. He didn't fidget, just kept his palm calmly on his glass. When she glanced up at his face, he was holding eyes with the Doctor, midway through some kind of silent communication.

At any other time, she might have wondered what was being conveyed—but she found herself too sated and comfortable to give it much thought. Their mysterious exchanges could continue for another day without her interrogation.

“This isn’t so bad, is it, really?” the Doctor finally said, jostling her somehow impossibly closer. She could hear one of his heartbeats, feel it under her cheek. “It’s quite cosy.”

“Very. Don’t think I’d wish for anything.” She hummed sleepily. “You, Alistair?”

“No, Rose,” came the answer, rippling faint surprise over her body. Her eyes grew wider, and she watched him try and fail to repress his amusement at her reaction. A smile living mostly in the eyes. “Not a thing.” The Doctor’s hand found hers and squeezed.

Just a beat too late, Liz mumbled out a fuzzy, “Hear, hear!”

And for a while after that, the only sounds were their muffled laughter and shushing, the rearranging of limbs toward mutual comfort, and the snapping logs in the fireplace, while the rain outside drummed steadily towards the morning.

[rosekisspeach]

TAROT READING//Mingkey Sexual Attraction - Bum's pt. 1

Date: 5/Feb/2024 Marker: Transparent Umbrella - SHINee Deck of Cards: Trungles' Star Spinner Tarot (Inclusive, Diverse, LGBTQ Theme); The Romance Angels Oracles; Manara Erotic Oracles

Notes Upfront:

I don't ask my cards questions that I already have answers;

I don't prey on information I should not know;

I respect their personal lives and;

This is for FUN ONLY.

✦ I also want to share the "reading-come-true" moment about taem that he truly cares about his art and what kind of artist he is becoming, please send love to his bubble ✦

In the following sexual attraction readings, be aware everything is "delulu" and I am just saying what I am seeing. Don't read this if you only see them as platonic friends/co-workers. . . . . .

Bum's part 1 - Subconsciousness Temptation [...] -> Garden [...] -> Flow of Inspiration Action: Swords 8, Wheel of Fate, Page of Cups Reverse, Empress Reverse, Lovers R Consciousness: Passion, Reconciliation, Wedding, Honeymoon Subconsciousness: Temptation of Pleasure, Garden at the top of the World, Flow of Inspiration

Before I present you the readings, let me introduce you my oracle cards, and the layout meaning. We have the romance angel oracles (an optimistic they/then) that delves into mingkey's consciousness, and Manara erotic oracles (a cheerful and charming lady) to unpack their subconsciousness. Each subconsciousness card is the result of three action cards, and two consciousness cards. Thus, I group these readings by the subconsciousness part, while unpacking the reading from top (action) to bottom (subconsciousness) , left to right (the energies deepen/hide deeper that the far right is what they "value" the most in this relationship). In the end, I will give an overall summary that includes all of these cards. I know this is confusing, and I will try my best to explain ++ I will also include the descriptions of oracles, so you can also interpret with flexibility.

Group 1: Temptation of Pleasure

"Don't you want me? ...Take me, I'm naked! A throaty voice from secret dreams will make them look into your eyes. Reality will disintegrate, the mirrored corridors of desires will capture you both, together, body and soul."

This reading really gives the same energy that I received from bummie's view on mingkey - insecurities, self-restraint, and self-love. The question here is not whether if bummie finds ming attrative. Of course he dose. Objectively, everyone finds ming good looking and physical appearing. But why wouldn't bummie acknowledge it like taem or jjong in blunt honesty? Not using his aegyo tone and sweet words anymore? We have a 8 of swords as the first card of bummie's action - Don't do it! Kibum shouts it to himself. He retreats his hand, closes his eyes, and stops himself from showing fondness towards ming despite the passion flares like butterflies in his stomach. He is cautious, tip toeing and giving just enough for the fan services. Isn't it cute that bummie touches ming's arm when laughing, as if the laughter is an enough distraction. As if we won't notice how long his fingers lingering on. He puts on the cold mask, keeps hims in distance, but he is not blind nor heartless. Bum senses their mutual attraction - the fate of them being inseparable like the two sides of a coin - that ming also senses (spoil alert!), and it scares him. Remember the 10 of coins dropped in bummie's view? We have similar energy here. Bummie treats ming as a loyal companion, a close family member, and he acts as it's enough for him. Instead of accepting the truth, bum is trapped in the mud of desire and maintains the status quo (it drives ming insane!!). Yet...the card is reversed, and we ask, bummie, you know you're not acing the "fake till you make it" play right?

Ten of Coins/Page of Cups

And ming is indeed that exception because he is Choi Minho. He is someone bummie loved and continued loving. He is from bummie's past, a reconciliation bummie vowed to him and his younger self, and the now, the future, the forever. It is too hard to resist the temptation, no wonder deep in bummie's mind, he asks assertively:

Don't you want me? Minho-ah. Take me, I'm all yours. I am forever yours.

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Oracle reading of Temptation of Pleasure:

"Pleasure is a demon, but it's your demon. It is sometimes an unbound call that shatters and dwarfs reason and logic. It is not just desire, it is an instinctual need that forces your being to find satisfaction. If the need for pleasure is accepted, not denied, it becomes less of an instinctual force, but rather a right of your inner self to a sexual release and a sexual identity. Pleasure ceases to be a secret world and becomes a harmonious part of what you are."

Group 2: Garden at the top of the World

"I am in a place where I cannot be hurt. You are not invited...yet. I don't know the road you must take to reach me. But here, I am safe, and from here, I can love you."

Seeing this card, I immediately thought about the left-on-read messages and how I unpacked the situation as bummie healing himself instead of purely hurting ming. It is true, bummie only loves Ming from distance, from somewhere he feels safe, and Ming is not allowed inside just yet. We have the reversed Empress in action demonstrating that bummie is trying everything to act content and fulfilling in his current romantic relationship. To pretend he does not need Ming’s care and love when murmuring Ming’s name after getting drunk. The empress card goes with bummies zodiac sign that he needs to learn about love not just as an ideological concept, but also accepting what his body wants - the blunt nature of sensation. Bum wants a stable relationship (or more like family structure) that he only secretly calls it marriage. But…he doesn’t believe he can ever have it (poor baby) thus the wedding card in conscience. Marrying ming sounds impossible, even absurd, and this is why he only loves ming in distance. This energy appeared in bummie’s view too!!

Minho, you are cruel. It is just fan service for you.

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.

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Oracle reading of Garden at the top of the World:

“There are times in life when a person needs to face battles, conflicts, and uncompromising fights. With every battle, either won or lost, there are scars, pains, and hurts. It's especially hard when life seems cruel and unfair, and when others seem intent on crushing us down and destroying what we hold dear. Even then, though, there is a safe place for us. Some of us know that place. Some are building it. And some are still searching for it. But it exists. A place where body and soul can rest and breathe. Where we can't be hurt, and we are free to forgive and heal.”

Group 3: Flow of Inspiration

“My love flows like the conversation of two souls in a sunny summer afternoon. I may disappear at the first sign of disharmony, but while I am here, we can fly together on heavenly winds. My hands may know your body, but my lips know your soul.”

This is what kibum meant in the Live Alone episode that the shooting was a good day for ming and him. In the days their energies match up, it feels like, literally, a honeymoon spent together. They laugh, they flirt, they smile at each other that makes us wonder if what they really want is to kiss and make out. Pining each other on the wall so they can taste the alcohol residual between teeth and tongue. Bum feels it too, and he can’t help but cling to these moments because he knows there will be “bad” days. Days full of anger, frustration, and disappointment. Days he realized he is not dating ming and what they do is only fan service in many eyes. We again see the reversed lover card dropped (which I hardly find surprising), meaning bummie has learnt to accept not being able to date Ming that he treats himself w those good days and not feeling helpless when it cannot last longer than he hopes.

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Oracle reading of Flow of Inspiration:

“What is inspiration? Inspiration is a connection with something that doesn't yet exist. A moment of irratio-nal, unexpected clarity. Inspiration moves like water, touching different parts of our soul and our mind, connecting them and taking them deeper and higher. Inspiration is not love, but it is a form of relationship: our inner self talking with the world, and the world answering back. Our potential finds a shape to grow into and takes the first steps in that direction. Before everything else, inspiration is a feeling. A feeling that can carry us, sometimes submerge us, even overwhelm us. It is a feeling we can only reach when we allow the world to envelop our being.”

-TBC-

find me on Twitter @rosekisspeach

[thisisbecausepolyvoreclosed]

Concept looks for Love From The Stars AU counterparts of Power Rangers: The New Samurai team (bar Arianna due to being unsure where she'd appear really if she does exist in the AU), this AU being something me and my friend, @disneyfan50 , discuss a-lot that technically started with just Reese but slowly expanded to the rest of the team as well.

From top to Bottom:

*First human outfit for Reese once back on land after having been a mermaid and sea monster with Lia while the two went after the sea witches, with the outfit having been created by Lia based on Reese's prior outfits and while stuff like her ear wrap and nails remained the same as prior to the adventures under the sea, she finds that Lia has created a new necklace for her, much to Reese's surprise but Lia says its a present for someone she has begun to view as a sister slowly, though that just increases Reese's surprise fully...but also makes Reese happy as she's starting to view Lia as a sister as well. *Human form concept of Morgan, daughter of Tameka in this alternate universe, who is staying with her aunt Ariel and uncle Eric for the summer so she has time to get used to being human in time for the new term of Auradon Prep, but any normal summer plans go out the window when King Ben's wedding goes awry... *Mermaid form concept of Morgan, which she takes while diving into the water around the kingdom due to the fire in her aunt's and uncle's palace, being the mermaid to pull Reese out of the water when she and her family quickly went to Reese's, Lia's and Eric's aid after the three ended up in the water during their escape. *Tour of Auradon Prep concept look for Jesse, son of Princess Tiana and Prince Naveen in this alternate universe, who volunteers to help out with the tour, Reese among the attendees of the tour as she at first, does plan to attend Auradon Prep at the start of new term, but after the tour, isn't so sure... *Pirate look concept for Caleb, eldest son of late pirates Mike and Emily in this alternate universe, who is one of Silver's cabin boys on the RLS Baelstrom and is pretty excited when the ship finally lands on Ixsol, not only due to it being a new planet but also being a new planet to solar surf on, though when it comes to befriending the kid Jim brings to ship a-lot, Caleb is the one who did most of the befriending part, Reese swearing she relented to his annoying of her. *Pirate look concept for Silas, youngest son of late pirates Mike and Emily in this alternate universe, who is also one of Silver's cabin boys on the RLS Baelstrom, who similar to his brother, is pretty excited when the ship lands on ixsol, as Silas enjoys learning about new planets, let alone about their music, and he's probably the only one of him and his brother who doesn't completely annoy Reese when befriending her...if anything, he's passing on notes on how to tolerate his brother. *Aurora (left) and Helia (right) Etherial form concepts, who in this alternate universe are twin creations of their Etherial creator and human father, adventurer Antonio, who the twins constantly look out for when ships pass through their mother's system, given he does try his best to surprise visit them when he can, but one of these instances of checking for their father's ship results in them checking in on the RLS Baelstrom, a ship of pirates led by the Commodore and his adopted daughter, Reese, who Aurora finds herself developing a crush on.

[vid-writes]

The Nephilim Chronicles Ch. 1

This is a story I have been working on since I was 14. I've scrapped this thing more times than I can count. Right now I have no intentions for this to become romance or smut so there's none of that. There's no need for an 18+ warning but please read at your own discretion because it will still be a dark fantasy novel.

Char sat up in her bed, let out a huge yawn, and stretched her arms wide. Today was the day, her eighteenth birthday. It would finally be revealed to her what type of Angelic magic she would be most proficient in.

Sure, most Nephilim children were capable of doing all kinds of magic their whole lives, but at eighteen, they were given a series of tests to help determine which they would be the most proficient in.

As she stood and stretched, her toes sank into the soft moss carpeting the floor of her bedroom. In some spots where the moss was worn down from frequent walking or standing, she could almost feel the planks of her wood floor or the bark of the tree's branches.

Silvery wings with small spurts of dark green streaked through them and jutted outwards as she stretched them out, and they filled most of her large room.

She turned to an ornate silver full-body mirror framed in Willow branches and tucked her wings against her back as she pulled her long red hair out of the braid, which she kept in while she slept.

The sounds of her family, as they, too, woke up for the day, filled the large house that expanded many floors below her inside the enormous tree house built around a large oak tree.

Her room was on the top floor, sitting among several branches that they had gently manipulated into an almost perfect square, save for the ones that made up parts of her floor. This resulted in all four of her walls having one to two oak tree limbs in them, but she didn't mind.

She never hung decorations on the tree's branches. All the people in her town firmly believed nature was living, so before they had built the treehouse for her family, there had, of course, been a ceremony. One involved offerings to the tree that decayed at unnatural rates, according to her family.

This treehouse was built by Char's parents and their family just after her parents got married, which was also a tradition in their town. Off to one side of her room was a big sliding glass door, which was where she was headed. She slid the door open and revealed a large balcony with a moss curtain hanging around it that she usually tied up to take in the view. Still, currently, she needed to shower under the constant stream of water off to the far-right side of the balcony, which was slightly sloped so it could run off and down to the balconies of the rest of the house.

Off to the left side of the balcony was the chair she used for sunbathing and a small shelf of books she read while doing so. She stripped off her pajamas and stood under the water. Usually, the temperature depended on the sunlight exposure from their two suns, but sometimes she would fly up and boil it with a bit of fire magic.

The water flowed from the bottom of a giant tub they had built a stand for on top of the tree down a slide that ended over the spot where it poured onto her balcony.

The tub had been enchanted to never stop flowing, and the splash zone was decently negated by the slope of the balcony. Today, Char was in too much of a hurry to care and let out a small yelp as she was met with icy water. After all, even with two suns, they had both just barely broken over the horizon and definitely hadn't had any time to warm the water.

She quickly used the soap on a shelf a foot away from the stream of water to wash her body and almost waist-length hair. She grabbed a towel from one of the three hooks, which she kept for bathing and sunbathing, and dried herself off. It wouldn't be long before Elders bombarded her room: several of her female cousins, her best friend, her three younger sisters, her two aunts, and her mom.

As was tradition, they would bring her a big breakfast that they would all share as they helped her get ready for the day. After she dried off and pulled on a robe in her room, she used two large ribbons to tie back the curtain of moss over one of the more oversized windows, allowing the light to stream into her room.

The cloth curtains covering the three windows in her bedroom were closed except for the one above her bed so the sunlight could stream in and wake her each morning. She made to open those curtains, too, when her bedroom door burst open, and women, both young and old, started pouring into her room.

Her oldest cousin was the first to greet her, taking the ribbon from her hands and opening the curtain as her twin bee-lined to the other window to do the same. Both girls had red hair like Char and their mothers, but neither of them wore it the same way. Evangeline kept her straight hair braided in intricate ways, and Emeline always let her curls hang free.

"Good morning, Charamaline," she said in her bright, bell-like voice. At fifteen years old, she still refused to call Char by her nickname.

"Good morning to you too, Evan," Char teased as she stuck out her tongue at Evangeline, who shot her a dirty look for using the shortened version of her name that her sister Emeline also used for teasing.

"Well, if you never want me to call you Evan again, then please call me Char because you know I prefer it." Evangeline considered this for a moment before she nodded as her mother pushed in between them with one of the many trays of food.

"Good morning, Char darling, and happy birthday," she nearly sang out the words as she shoved the tray with the plate of scrambled quail eggs, toast, a bowl of rice, some fried mushrooms, and bacon on it in her hands, "go on eat up you'll need your fuel for the day." She kissed Char on the forehead before she scurried off to help her daughters carefully move her stuff off any flat surface in the room and out of the way so the other ladies could set down the different trays of food.

Her aunt Rebecca, the twins' mom, was her favorite, but she'd never tell her aunt Katherine that. Three of Katherine's daughters flitted about the room, helping to arrange things and set down the food. Each of Katherine's seven daughters had wildly different hair.

Katherine had ended up having more girls than Rebecca and Char's mom combined. Katherine herself was still downstairs, probably busy prepping for the other events that would take place after the tests. Just as she had settled down on her bed with her tray of food, Char looked up to see Morgana, her best friend, smiling down at her.

"Happy eighteenth, bestie. Are you ready for your tests?" She sat on the bed next to Char.

"Honestly, I really am, though I'm sure it's fire magic that I will be the most proficient in today. I will confirm or deny that flat-out," Char said almost casually as she started to eat. She watched as the women in her room scurried in and out for a little while, bringing in more stuff.

There were boxes of makeup, boxes of hair pins, and boxes of clothes because, of course, the outfit had several layers. Thankfully, each outfit was tailored to each person who wore them but in the traditional style for males or females.

For Char, that outfit meant she would be wearing a dress with many layers for the skirt, a corset, high heels, and a robe with a fifteen-foot-long train. She finished her tray, and Mor took it out of the room, probably down to the kitchen if she had to venture a guess before she could object.

Once again, before she could object, Char herself was pulled up from the bed by her mother with a sheepish smile on her face. Char had been listening to the busy chatter among the women but had been more focused on the idea of the tests.

"Come on, time to get that hair dried and then styled," her mom said, leading her over to her vanity. There, an Elder female Nephilim proficient in air magic, as denoted by the small silver pendant with swirls inside a circle of silver around her neck, stood waiting for them. The woman introduced herself as Flora and then got to work using her magic to dry Char's hair.

Mor reappeared behind her in the mirror as the Elder woman left. It seemed that was her only job.

Traditions might be silly sometimes, but this one was long honored and had been since the first few Nephilim children were born fifteen hundred years ago. Mor and her mother oversaw weaving her hair into the intricate traditional style. She watched as her hair was pulled up with several small bright purple jeweled hair clips.

Once finished, the style rested on her head, seeming to weave her hair into a crown dotted with jeweled clips.

Her pointed elf ears, which she and her siblings got from their elf father, were covered by silver earcuffs adorned with a few tiny bright purple jewels.

Luckily for her, even though purple was the traditional color, it was her favorite. Another Elder woman roused her from admiration for her hair and ears. According to what she told Char, this woman was apparently in charge of the traditional makeup and would be until she trained her apprentice.

The woman also told Char her name was Anwen, and then she didn't speak again other than to direct Char to move her head one way or the other as she did Char's makeup. Char took note of Anwen's silver pendant with lightning strikes inside the circle. So, she was an electrical Nephilim.

How interesting that one must be, Char thought.

She had never once been able to produce even a little spark in electrical magic. Not everyone in their town was a Nephilim, nor were they all Elven Nephilim.

In fact, many people in town weren't crossbreeds, so to speak. When it came to the traditions of the Nephilim magic tests, only Nephilim were allowed to be involved until it was time for the party to celebrate successful tests for the child or children who turned eighteen that day, at which point the whole town was invited.

Anwen finally stepped back to look at Char's face, studying it like she might be tested on the exact shade of red her cheeks were. With a decisive nod, Anwen packed up the makeup and left the room, simply wishing Char luck on her way out. It was starting to feel a little impersonal in here, and she was relieved to see the older of her two younger sisters step in front of her.

"Wow, Char, have you even looked at yourself in the mirror?" her sister Anaphiel asked. Little Ellie, at eight years old, was wrapped around Ana like usual, and there were almost stars in her forest green eyes. Char really loved that little Ellie had gotten green eyes like she had.

With a huffed-out sigh, Char spun around in her chair, and her mouth dropped open. There she was, staring back at herself, unrecognizable and almost tribal. The light purple eye shadow and silver eyeliner brought out her green eyes. The shadow started in a big, elegant swoop on either side of her face by her ears, came across her eyelids right above the lashes, and met in an uninterrupted line on her nose.

Under the silver swirls on her cheeks, she had light red blush, and on her lips, purple lipstick matched the eyeshadow. On her forehead, more silver eyeliner started in a more minor swirl near the ones by her ears and connected across the middle, just like her nose and eyes.

The leaf-green skin she had gotten from her elven father made it all really come together instead of making her look like a clown, as she had thought it would. Between the makeup and the hair-jeweled crown, Char was almost regal.

All that was left was the dress, and that was going to take the longest.

Everyone left the room except Char's mom, Hazel, Ana, the twins, and the last Elder Nephilim, who, according to the pendant around her neck, was proficient in fire magic. Char suddenly became aware that all these people were going to be seeing her in various stages of undress, and her natural blush crept in underneath the foundation of her makeup.

She stood up and walked over to the enormous privacy screen on the far side of her room from her vanity, which was positioned on the wall across from her balcony. Once she was behind it, she pulled off her robe. Someone tossed her underwear at her over the top of the screen, and she quickly pulled them on.

Once those were on, the last Elder in the room rounded the privacy screen with a plain white slip dress. She helped Char pull it on and then walked back around the privacy screen, motioning for Char to follow.

Back in the middle of her room, Char was helped into an ankle-length petticoat. Once the petticoat was on, a heavy purple skirt was lowered over her head and tied around her waist snugly. They pulled a top over the top of her white slip and then a corset over that. They would save the robe for when she was entering the testing area so it didn't get messed up or dirty.

She was informed that since the outfit was custom-made, she would get to keep it, though Char needed to figure out when or if she would ever wear it again. Every bit of the purple dress had silver swirls on it, matching the ones on her face.

Once she was dressed, she was instructed to let her wings out and fold them against her back instead of leaving them magically tucked into her skin.

An hour later, after being all but paraded through town, she literally walked directly from her house to the testing place, but the streets had been lined with well-wishers; she arrived at the testing area. Or arena, she should say. A massive stone structure stood before her and her entourage, which made Char come to a stop. Ivy vines were twisting all over the round front of the grey stone structure, and Char started to feel a bit nervous.

"Don't worry, dear girl, it's not as intimidating inside. This place was once used for glorious battles amongst heroes and men who dared challenge them, but it's since been repurposed. Who doesn't love a good dramatic front to a building, though, eh?" an Elder who almost suddenly appeared explained to Char.

Char had to look down to find her as the woman was only tall enough to stare Char directly in the chest. She was leaning against a walking stick and admiring the building herself.

"It is quite gorgeous," Char agreed. The woman and her wrinkly brown skin stood out the most against the grey façade. Almost looking like she belonged here but also didn't. She motioned for them to come forward, and Char noticed the doors on the stone wall. Two giant doors made of redwood stood open before them.

"Oh, and before you go inside these doors, best get your robe on," the woman muttered, but somehow, they all heard her loud and clear.

There was a rustle of movement behind Char as she stood in front of the doors, and then her shoulders sagged a little bit. She looked back to see the robe for the first time.

It was more like a cloak, really, but it also had sleeves, though she wouldn't get to put those on. It was decorated almost as a mirror to her dress, and she took a deep breath. Her heels clicked on the stone beneath them, soon joined by the sounds of other heels and boots.

The woman had been right. The entire inside of the stone arena had been completely converted. Where there was once a long tunnel that led to an opening in the area, there was now a long, carved-out, very modern hallway. Eight doors were set in the walls on either side of the hallway, and the whole thing was lit by torches next to every other door. Char knew, of course, that the torches had been enchanted.

The walls were still stone and gray like the outside, but everything else had been brought into this century. When she got to the end of the hallway, a smaller set of large wooden doors opened on their own. She stepped into a vast, open, and nearly empty room and stopped in her tracks.

"Yeah, that's the usual reaction; come on, dear, we've got a schedule to keep," the older woman said, appearing at her side again.

She gently tugged Char forward by her arm. Char looked around the now enclosed coliseum area they were in. There were rows and rows of empty stands around them leading up almost higher than the eye could see. She could see here that some of the spaces that had probably been used by monarchs to view sporting events had been converted into grand workspaces.

She strode to the center of the arena, where she noticed it was covered in clean marble flooring. She didn't imagine this had been the original flooring; after all, fighting for sport had been held here, so there had been bloodshed. She really hated that this place was only permitted to be used for the testing ceremonies.

In the center stood a raised marble stage and, on that stage, two tables. At one table stood a short and stout but regal woman, their village's current Chief Elder and current test giver. At a more extended table behind her sat fifteen other elders who weren't already occupying the offices in the surrounding seating area.

There was one empty seat, and Char noticed that the only other person who had followed her to the stage was the Elder woman who had a knack for appearing out of thin air.

She walked over and sat at the Elder's table while Char stopped at the smaller table across from the woman who gave the tests.

"Welcome, Charamaline and family," a female voice said inside Char's head. She looked around confused and saw her family in various stages of confusion as well, save for her parents. They must have dealt with this before, though neither were Nephilim.

"I can see by your confused faces you've never encountered a thought magic user. Rest assured, the voice you hear comes from the individual across the table from Charamaline. And no need to worry. I can also speak out loud, though, after four decades of speaking with my thoughts, this feels a little weird." The voice from the woman's mouth sounded the same as in Char's head. Clear, slightly deeper than most females, though not unusual to Char, considering the woman was an Elder, but with such grace, it was like the woman was always speaking around royalty.

Char took in the woman before her and noticed she was the youngest of the Elders, even for a Nephilim and especially for the Chief Elder. She had long light green hair she had woven around her head and then tied back into a tight braid that hung to the backs of her knees, but Char was sure if the woman let her hair down, it would reach to the floor and then some.

She had clear blue eyes that were almost white, light orange skin, and brown freckles across her cheeks and nose. They almost completely covered the orange of her skin. It was then that Char noticed her wings were different from everyone else's in the building. They seemed to have claws at the topmost points and looked far more bird-like than most angelic individuals.

"Ah, I see you're curious about my lineage," the woman's voice interrupted Char's admiration of her wings. Char blushed, so much so that she knew it probably made the makeup blush look silly in comparison.

"Yes, I am, but mostly because of your wings," Char muttered just loud enough that the woman could hear her.

"This is the first time you've seen a Harpy Nephilim, then, is it?" the woman's question filled Char's mind. Char nodded and looked back at her parents for a second over her shoulder. She turned back to the woman who was smiling and noticed her mouth was full of canine-type teeth that looked incredibly sharp.

"Don't worry; you'll get used to the other kinds of Nephilim that exist once you get to the Academy. Not that our own village doesn't have its share of diversity, but this is a massive continent on a giant planet. My name is Phynethe Ratzuma Andromeda Petwynn; you may call me Phynethe. Now, as for the tests. First, we have a brief explanation of what you are going to be doing, and then you will take the tests. As you know, Nephilim are more versatile in the types of magic they're capable of, but because of the mixed blood, for lack of a better term, they're only capable of being proficient in one kind of magic.

So here today, you will demonstrate several types of magic, and we will rate how strong you are at each. This place is massive for a reason, so there's no need to hold back. You will clearly have never heard of some of these types of magic before, and you might not be capable of doing them. That's okay, but you never know. Thought magic tends to not show itself until the tests are given, and honestly, none of us have any idea why, not that we haven't researched it, believe me, we have." The woman paused and gave Char a minute to think freely. She must know how overwhelming her kind of magic was for people experiencing it for the first time.

"First up on the docket is fire magic. Please demonstrate your level of fire magic to us, if any," Phynethe said in Char's head again.

"May I move around the stage?" Char asked.

"You may move around the whole arena, including in the air," Phynethe replied. Char smiled and turned to walk off the stage. She noticed then that her family had been shown to some seats in the lowest part of the arena seating area.

Her parents smiled at her before she turned around, now a reasonable distance from the stage, and held out both hands. Warmth bloomed in her palms, and seconds later, two pillars of fire, stretching nearly as high as the arena ceiling, appeared in her hands. The flames danced in a controlled spiral that never got any wider than six inches across.

"Are you capable of changing the color or temperature of the flames?" Char faltered for a second as she considered it. She had never tried, but there was literally no time like the present. Char focused on making the warmth in her palm hotter, but it wouldn't change. She tried to imagine the flames changing colors, but they continued their spiral dance and remained red, orange, and yellow.

"It appears I cannot," Char said. Phynethe nodded, and the flames disappeared from Char's palms.

"That's alright, dear, no matter. How about lightning magic?" Phynethe's voice was soothing to Char. Char felt herself blushing again.

"I've never so much as produced a single spark," Char said, making her voice loud enough to be heard from the distance she was at, even though she wanted to mumble.

"Can you please try? We have to see an attempt before we can move forward, traditions and such. Plus, you never know some people are late bloomers in all kinds of magic," Phynethe explained.

Char knew that if you hadn't shown signs of any kind of magic by twenty-five, then you'd never be capable of it. She nodded and held both hands up again, this time in front of her with her fingers carved towards each other.

She focused on the image of a spark jumping between her fingers like she had seen Anaphiel do so many times.

Anaphiel had once tried to describe how the magic felt, but all she could manage was "sparky and electric," which was incredibly unhelpful. After a few minutes of nothing happening, Char dropped her arms back to her sides.

"That's alright, Charamaline. Thank you for trying. Up next, we have wind magic."

On and on the tests went. Some of the magics Char had never heard of, she had managed to get one or two things to happen from, though only a few. She was good at most basic magics and surprised even herself when she created a tidal wave that almost wiped out the inside of the arena. Thankfully, a fire magic Elder had hit it with an equally sized wall of fire, and it had turned into a giant cloud of warm steam.

They had had to crack open the roof of the arena to vent the steam and repeatedly brushed off Char's apologies, assuring her this happened all the time.

"Okay, now we will move on to the rarer magics," Phynethe declared once the arena was steam-free. "Please demonstrate your levels of light magic, if any at all."

Char hesitated before she raised her arms once again. She had never heard of light magic, but she had learned by now it was easier to just attempt something than it was to get an explanation for how to do the magic.

She focused on the space between her hands and gasped softly when it started to glow. As Char concentrated on it, the glow got brighter and more prominent.

The whole room was silent, and even the Elders who had been working quietly had gone still. Char spread her arms wide, and the magic nearly exploded outwards. The ball of light grew massive and started to change colors, all while Char just stared in amazement.

"I've literally never done this before," she said, her voice full of astonishment. Phynethe smiled widely and actually spoke out loud this time.

"It seems to me that for the first time in nearly five hundred years, we have a Nephilim who is capable of light magic. Most of the Angels that were capable of light magic were tragically wiped out in the Great War those five hundred years ago, but standing before us, we seem to have a fresh new bloodline for light magic." Her voice was loud and proud. The ball of light disappeared, and Char felt her own pride welling up.

"Now, normally, we would continue the test from here while a youngster stands here unable to do any of these rare magics, but you're capable of light magic, which means you won't be capable of any of the rest of the rare magics. See, those are rare for many reasons, one of which is that two or more cannot coincide in one person. It simply doesn't happen," the Elder who had led Char and her family into the arena spoke up from her place at the Elder's table.

Char walked back to the stage and climbed the stairs, feeling taller than before. Once she was back on the stage, Phynethe motioned for her to face her family. She turned and saw their faces all light up with pride.

"Now presenting to you the first light magic Nephilim, let alone user, in nearly five centuries," Phynethe's voice rang out loud and in Char's head at the same time.

Char had been mildly disappointed when she hadn't been capable of thought magic, but Phynethe had assured her it was more in line for Harpy Nephilim to know that Elven Nephilim. Her family cheered and rushed down out of the seating area.

Char noticed all the Elders who had offices in her had stood and were bowing to her. Heat filled Char's cheeks again, but she didn't have time to register it as her family swept her up.

She was hugged, kissed on the cheek, forehead, hair, patted on the shoulder, and told congratulations over and over again. Once her family let her go, a male Elder walked from behind the table and handed Char a spiral-bound book.

"This is everything you'll need to know about Marble Hills Academy. If you feel you need someone to explain, please don't hesitate to ask any one of us Elders or another member of the town who has graduated from Marble Hills Academy," he explained with a gruff, deep voice.

He congratulated Char and then left the stage. The rest of the Elders congratulated Char one by one and then left the stage.

She wasn't the only one who would be tested today, so she assumed they were taking an intermission between her Glissith Wrapmoth Tiedreene Wrannan, one of her friends from school.

A young woman who was probably interning at the arena led Char and her family out of the arena. Once back outside, Char noticed that it was early afternoon. Commonly, she was supposed to walk back with her family, but Char wanted to tell Mor first before she told anyone else.

"Mom, can I please go find Mor?" she asked. Hazel smiled sweetly and nodded.

Char pulled off her robe and handed it to her dad. Screw tradition; she needed to tell Morgana this news before she personally told anyone else, let her family tell the town.

She stretched out her wings and pushed off the ground. Flying was freedom. The wind rushed all around her, the sensation of her wings beating and carrying her forward. It took her a few minutes to find Morgana since the town was still crowded and milling about, waiting for Glissith to take his test.

Once Char spotted her, she folded her wings to her back and allowed herself to free-fall headfirst down toward Mor. When she was just about to hit the ground next to Mor, she unfurled her wings again and stopped herself from crashing. The motion jerked her upwards, and her feet hovered a few inches from the ground. She beat her wings lightly to stay hovering.

"Holy shit Char you know I hate when you do that," Mor practically yelled, drawing more attention from people passing by than Char's divebomb.

"And the way you jump and yelp every time is why I still do it even after 13 years of protests from you," Char teased as she landed and folded her wings.

The first time Char had divebombed Morgana was when they were six. Char had been flying for a week by then and was showing off what she had learned. She thought it would be funny to make Mor think she had lost control and then save herself at the last second.

The resulting reaction from Mor was the same as it is now. She jumped, yelped, and cursed at Char.

"Hey, wait, aren't you supposed to be paraded through town and show off which magic you tested highest in?" Mor looked at her with suspicion.

"Tradition can be broken when you're the first light magic user in five centuries," Char said in a matter-of-fact tone. Mor's face went from suspicion to confusion. Char held up a hand and produced a small floating ball of light that lasted a few seconds before flickering out.

"Okay, that's definitely new," Mor's voice was full of amazement. Neither of them had heard of light magic before, and Mor's reaction almost mirrored Char's. Char nodded and started to bounce in place.

"It was better at the tests, but I must have exhausted myself more than I realized. I had to come tell you first," Char explained, still bouncing with excitement.

"I can see that," Mor said and stuck out her tongue. The two girls laughed and hugged. Soon, Char's family passed by, and she and Mor were swept up by the crowd who were so eager to hear Char's results that it hadn't registered she wasn't with her family; after all, most people didn't break tradition as Char had done. After a little bit of pushing, the girls end up right next to Char's dad.

"Oh, hey there, Char. I was wondering when you'd get pulled back in," he murmured just loud enough for her to hear. Morgana, who had grabbed Char's hand when the crow pushed them towards the procession, squeezed Char's hand.

"Would you mind if I tag along since this all ends with a giant party for you and Glissith tonight?" Mor whispered in her ear. Char shook her head, indicating she didn't mind the company, and they all continued walking down to the lake where the party would be held.

Once they were there, Char was basically put on a pedestal where a nice, almost throne-like chair sat. They announced she was proficient in light magic, and Char's roar of approval from the crowd was so loud that she covered her ears for a few seconds.

She noticed there was another chair on a pedestal meant for Glissith and couldn't help feeling a little lonely. A scraping sound made Char look to her right, where she noticed Mor heaving a chair up onto the foot-tall pedestal.

"As if I'm going to let you go through this weird process alone," Mor smirked. Char smiled and thanked her.

Since Glissith's test would take a while, people milled back towards town, though plenty stayed. Some people still had jobs to do, while others just wanted to rest in their homes before the festivities truly kicked off.

Char and Mor were offered a plate of food each and a glass of wine. They ate and made small talk while they waited for Glissith.

After Glissith arrived and was declared most proficient in water magic, the party really started. Char and Glissith were showered with gifts and food.

Mor made sure to keep things from piling up too high around Char as more and more things were given to her. Sure, she had had birthday parties before, but never like this. She had been to a few of the testing ceremony parties but never stayed long.

She had always wondered what it was like to sit up in the chairs and be showered with attention. Now she knew, and she liked it more than she thought she would.

The party raged on late into the night, and Char ended up drinking and dancing so much that she knew the memories would be a blur the next day. The whole thing ended with fireworks that a lightning Nephilim and a fire Nephilim had invented.

As the sky was painted an assortment of colors over and over again, Char felt strangely that her life was about to change far more than she had been prepared for.

Buy me a coffee?

[shanamahtopoeia]

Porting Models from Dragon Age: Inquisition to Dragon Age: Origins or Dragon Age 2

Part 2b - Into Origins

Tools needed: Blender 2.49b Blender ImportExport Script GDApp The DAO Toolset OR pyGFF and TlkEdit

Make sure you have the ImportExport script installed correctly (all the files dumped into the same folder as Blender.exe), and open DragonAge_tools.blend. (Blender uses a lot of shortcut keys, so if you're unfamiliar, you might find it useful to go through a Blender tutorial)

By default, Blender will open with 4 windows: a 3D viewer in the top left, a buttons window in the bottom left, and two text windows on the right. In the upper left, use the File menu to import your DAI obj(s), setting 'Clamp_Scale' to 0. (if you haven't yet extracted your model from DAI, see Part 1 of this series)

Then right-click in the upper text window, and hit 'execute script'. Select 'MSH Tool' and browse to wherever you've extracted Origins mesh files.

Select a mesh that's similar to the one you're porting, and click 'Load MSH'.

Click 'Import as mesh'.

You'll need to adjust the Inquisition mesh to roughly the same proportions and pose as the Origins mesh. This is something that takes practice, and a lot of trial and error.

A couple little tips for armor/clothing: -Do all your adjustments in Edit Mode. -First scale (S) the entire mesh on the Z-axis so the neckline roughly lines up. -Then scale and skew (Ctrl+S) so that the fingers match up. You might need to adjust the arms separately from the rest of the body for this. -Skewing works from your viewing position, so to skew on the Y-axis, for instance, you must be viewing your model from the side. -In general, you want to make the major joint areas (shoulders, elbows, knees, hips) line up as best as you can. -Rotating a group of vertices around a single vertex can be very effective: Select that vertex, then do Shift+S, Cursor to Selection. Change the pivot point by clicking on the pivot box (two to the right of the 3D mode selection) and choose '3D cursor'. Box-select the vertices you want to rotate with B. (if you miss some, hitting B again won't remove the ones you've already selected; it will allow you to add more. Also, hitting B and drawing the box with the right mouse button removes enclosed vertices.) -I usually alternate the pivot point between '3D Cursor' and 'Median Point' a lot. -You can rotate around a specific axis and to an exact degree with keyboard inputs. For instance "R, X, 10" will rotate your selection on the X-axis by 10 degrees. This is especially useful when you're trying to keep limbs symmetrical. -'Shrink along normals' (Alt+s) is another very useful function for widening/slimming cylindrical areas, like arms & legs. -Check the model from all sides before moving to the next phase! It's always annoying to find out later that a few random vertices are sticking out weird, and got badly weighted as a result.

Once your mesh is adequately adjusted, it's time to add some weights.

Switch back to Object Mode, and select the DAO mesh, then your DAI mesh.

Find and click the 'Scripts' button in the upper right window. Click on 'Object', then 'Bone Weight Copy'.

Change the quality to 3 or 4, and hit OK. (if you're making LODs, using a quality of 1 is fine)

Wait. And wait. And wait. Seriously, this can take several minutes. You can tell it's working by the red to green progress bar at the top. If nothing happens, you likely didn't select both meshes, or both meshes already have weights.

Eventually, the weight copy will finish, and you can check how it did. Move the DAO mesh off to one side, select the DAI mesh, and then change the 3D viewer to Weight Paint mode.

Hit F9 to change the Buttons window to the Editing tab. Use the Vertex Groups box to go through the bones one-by-one, and make sure they all look reasonable. (unfortunately, they're numbered, not named, so that makes things trickier)

Mostly, you want to check that certain areas aren't trying to move when they shouldn't. Common culprits are the elbows getting a bit of weight from the chest bone(s) and vice-versa, or adjacent fingertips getting weight from each other. This is another one of those 'trial and error' things. You might find it helpful to switch back and forth between the DAO mesh and DAI mesh, going through the bones at the same time for comparison.

The weight paint brush can be used to subtract unwanted weights, or add weights where needed. You'll have to play around with the brush settings to your liking (I suggest starting with both weight and opacity at 1/2).

You can also switch the 3D window back to Edit mode, select vertices that shouldn't belong to the selected bone, and then click the 'Remove' button under the Vertex Groups box. MAKE SURE NOT TO HIT 'DELETE'. That can seriously mess things up.

Once you're done playing with the weights, it's time to get ready for export.

Minimize Blender, and put a copy of the vanilla mesh you used for weighting in a new folder. (the export script works by overwriting the info in a vanilla file. Don't want to mess with the original!) Also copy over the corresponding mmh & phy while you're at it.

Go back to Blender, execute the DragonAge_Tools script again, and hit the MSH Tool button. 'Browse' to your copied vanilla msh, and load it.

Instead of importing this time, you're going to make sure your ported mesh is selected in the 3D window, and then click the yellow-outlined 'Replace' button in the script window.

Then make sure the submesh (also called a "chunk") you want to replace is selected (for armor and clothing, there'll probably only be one, but with hairstyles you'll want to replace 'HairM2'), and click 'Replace chunk'.

Click 'Save filename' to confirm.

If the replacement failed, the most likely cause is that you have unweighted vertices. Finding them is frustrating, and I'm sorry. There's no easy way in Blender 2.49; the quickest way is to save your file, and reopen it in a newer version of Blender that has a "Select Unweighted Verts" function. Moving it to a new version of Blender, however, has a chance of scrambling your UV map.

Now you'll want to minimize Blender, and navigate to your overwritten vanilla msh. Unless you're making a replacer, rename the files to something unique.

It needs to start with a race/gender code (hm = "human male", hf = "human_female", and so on), and end with "_0". See Bioware's naming conventions for reference.

Open up all three files with either the DAO Toolset or pyGFF. Rename each instance of the vanilla file name with the new file name. (no need for the filepath like in DA2, thank goodness) If you're using pyGFF, you'll need to make sure to hit 'Save' in the bottom left after every change.

In the MMH, also expand MMH_CHILDREN, GOB, MMH_CHILDREN, and then the bottom list, *mshh. MMH_MATERIAL_OBJECT refers to the mao, you'll need to replace the vanilla with a custom mao (more on that in a bit).

If you want, you can also change the chunk name under MMH_MESH_GROUP_NAME to match the new file name. If you do, make sure to change it in the msh as well. (there's a rare glitch where if you change between two pieces of equipment with the same mmh_mesh_group_name, the mesh will not change, leading to vanilla items appearing with custom models or vice-versa. It doesn't happen consistently, but it can happen) Also in the mmh, you may want to activate some lighting options: CAST_RUNTIME_SHADOW should be active by default; if it's not, change the 0 to 1. You can also activate CAST_BAKED_SHADOW, RECEIVE_BAKED_SHADOW, and RECEIVE_RUNTIME_SHADOW in the same way, but these are less noticeable if they're inactive.

Save your files.

Making a .mao file:

My tutorial for converting DAI textures to DAO using Paint.NET can be found here. If you prefer to use GIMP or Photoshop, I recommend these tutorials: magpie's for GIMP sapphim's for Photoshop

If all you want for now is quick placeholder textures, simply extract the DAI textures as .dds files. Use a text editor to open up a vanilla .mao of the same basic appearance (color & material matters most) and replace the vanilla texture names with those from DAI. Save the new mao with a name matching your model.

Put your msh, msh, phy, mao, and textures in the DAO override folder. If you're making a replacer, testing is as simple as opening up your game and equipping the right item.

If putting in a new unique model, you'll have to tell the game how to find it. Extract the variations GDA matching the item type (armor_heavy_variation for heavy chestpieces, clothing_variation for clothing & robes, etc).

Open up the GDA with GDApp, and delete all lines except one, which you'll use as a template (so don't use line 0).

Change the 'ID' entry to something (hopefully) unique.

Thanks to a weird quirk of UTIs, the highest number you can use is 256. If you already have a lot of equipment mods, you may want to look through the Item Variation ID spreadsheet (NexusMods, Google Sheets) to avoid GDA conflicts. The item variation GDA tells the game what mmh to look for. The modeltype, modelsubtype, and modelvariation columns are combined together, along with the race/gender code, to form the model's mmh (the final "_0" is ignored for this): hf_cth_comd_0 = (human female)_(clothing)_(commoner)(d) = (race/gender code)_(modeltype)_(modelsubtype)(modelvariation)

If you've named your mmh a bit different than the Bioware convention, that's fine, as long as you can break it up into those GDA columns. I don't think there is a character limit.

Now save your GDA, keeping the original file name but adding a unique suffix (for example "armor_variation_medium_edit.gda"). The file name cannot be longer than 32 characters, including ".gda".

Put your new GDA in the override as well, and open up the toolset.

Open up a local copy of the same type of item, click on Item Variation, and look for your new model. If it doesn't show up, the most likely cause is that your GDA is missing or its name is too long.

Change the item to your new model for viewing. If your model is not for human males, you'll need to change the race & gender at the bottom. For testing, I recommend now exporting the item (Tools, Export, Export without dependent resources), and consoling yourself the item in-game if you don't already have it. (model swaps like this are not baked into the save, so you don't have to worry about permanently messing up things)

If you're NOT using the Toolset, you'll have to change the item variation in an extracted UTI with TlkEdit, and then console yourself the item for testing.

If something doesn't quite look right, go back to Blender and experiment. You'll need follow the process for overwriting a vanilla mesh every time you edit, but you shouldn't need to redo the mmh & phy.

Common problems: -- Distorted/noodly body parts: used a mmh that didn't match the msh -- Model is mint green and t-posing: can't find the mao -- Textures are gray and/or shiny: can't find texture(s) -- Game crashes: bad msh export. Try exporting again, or compare it to a vanilla msh for errors -- Invisible model: wrong msh name in the mmh, or mismatched chunk names between the msh & mmh -- Won't tint: the chunk names in the mmh MUST be BootsM1, GlovesM1, ArmorM1, HelmetM1, ClothesM1, or RobeM1. Chunk names must also be consistent for all different race/gender variations of the same model, and any LODs.

The next tutorial will cover porting static meshes for either game, since it's the same process/tools for both.

[cindylouwho-2]

Etsy Moving to Square Photos on Shop Home Pages

Screenshot of my shop home page in July; these photos will change to squares in "early August".

Although Etsy hasn't sent out warning emails or posted notifications on shop manager dashboards yet, the forum Announcements section let us know that Etsy would be changing the ratio of images on shop home pages in early August. (Yes, they are only giving us a few weeks notice. Perfectly reasonable, right? 🙄) The decision was based on the much-maligned tests run in June and July, where many shops saw their product photographs bizarrely zoomed and cropped, with no explanation from Etsy.

Turns out that those tests showed a higher conversion rate for squares, so that is where Etsy is headed. Problem is, we don't know if they are going to properly adjust the crops or not, which they did not do when testing. During that experiment, many of my square photos were zoomed then cropped off on one side, in part because Etsy hadn't removed my previous use of the cropping tool for rectangular shapes. The issues were just as bad or even worse for sellers who mostly used rectangular photos to match the shape of Etsy's gallery displays.

Many sellers are panicking, worrying that they will have to redo thousands of photos in just a few weeks time. Etsy states that "No immediate action is required, however, you may want to start taking and uploading images with this format in mind." Since search pages will still have rectangular product images, squares will not always work (unless set up to look decent in both shapes).

What should sellers do?

I suggest waiting to see what your items look like in this new format before making changes to older images. We don't know whether or not Etsy is going to fix the problems displayed during the experiments. Shooting new listings with both shapes in mind is definitely a good idea, but it is possible your older photographs will look good enough to avoid getting out your camera again.

My best guess is that they will not make the same weird cropping errors with already square photos like mine, as they are not currently doing that on Market pages, where square photos are the norm. See an example below, and compare to the screenshot of my shop home page rectangles above:

Note that my earrings show up fine as a square on the Market page. This listing photo was shown cropped off on each side during the shop home page square test. However, my original photo was taken to look okay as both a square and an Etsy gallery rectangle: a square shape with extra space above and below the earrings. The listing photo in the top right corner above was apparently taken to fill the rectangle shape on each side, so the earrings on the right and left are cut off in square view. This is a problem that many shops may face, depending on how Etsy formats the new home pages.

If you want to check how your current photos look as squares, use this trick to see them on a Market page. (You may need to narrow results by price to find your listing easily.) However, remember that we cannot be certain this is how Etsy will display pics on home pages come August. If we learn more about it, I will update this post.

UPDATE (August 2, 2023): Unfortunately, Etsy went live with the changes today and didn't fix any of the shop home coding, so my photos are weirdly cropped again, and I cannot fix them with Etsy's cropping tool. This shouldn't happen, as my photos are already square!

This is what Etsy has chosen to do with my square photos. Why not just, you know, display the squares I uploaded? Sigh...

If you are taking new photos and want them to work in both formats, you will need to leave space around the outer rim of the image, so you don't lose vital parts of your product when Etsy changes the photo shape. I've been using squares with empty space on the top and bottom of each shot, which is so far working fine on the Market page squares. This may not work for all types of products, however.

If you learn anything from Etsy about this, please post below, or send me an email, so we can share this info with other sellers.

[stateofsport211]

Wimbledon MS Q3: Meet Your Lucky Losers

Wimbledon qualifying rounds ambience in panorama view (📸 Express UK via Getty Images)

For the more compact version, presented as a Twitter thread, you can click here.

For the first two parts of the qualifiers' article, click here (part 1) and click here (part 2).

Compared to the Roland Garros/French Open, where many withdrawals led to the ascension of 6 lucky losers (the most ascensions to date for this year), there had been 2 lucky loser ascensions to the main draw as a result of 2 withdrawals. This article will be updated should more lucky losers ascend, but here are the lucky losers competing in the main draw:

LL1: Marton Fucsovics (l. Chris Rodesch 3-6, 4-6, 6-0, 6-7(4))

Marton Fucsovics' points to 1-0* 30-15 (1st set, top left), to *1-1 30-15 (2nd set, top right), and to break 2-0 in the third set (bottom) (📸 Wimbledon qualification rounds)

Replacing Borna Coric, who withdrew due to injury, M. Fucsovics came to the qualifying rounds as the first seed, and perhaps a handful of people with more experience on the surface, reaching as far as the quarterfinals at the 2021 Wimbledon Championships (l. Novak Djokovic). Despite his Roland Garros early exit to seal the clay season that also put his season into question at times, he was still able to reach the Stuttgart (250) quarterfinals as a qualifier (l. Taylor Fritz) before coming to the qualifying rounds, already knocking out Jurij Rodionov and Zachary Svajda without dropping a set before facing Chris Rodesch in the final qualifying round.

Back in the first few games of the first set, M. Fucsovics scored a cross-court backhand winner as he took advantage of the lower bounce and used his trademark slices in between before he got broken by C. Rodesch, who ended up taking that set 6-3. A set after the Luxembourgish maintained his range to take the second set 6-4, the Hungarian then set up his game point through a net exchange ending with a forehand winner before holding to 1-0 in the third set. There, after breaking to 2-0 thanks to his preceding forehand, he rushed C. Rodesch from the grounds before serving the third-set bagel (6-0). Nonetheless, the fourth set ended with a tie-breaker, where M. Fucsovics' forehand errors caused C. Rodesch's crucial mini-break, where the latter took the fourth set 7-6(4) to secure his spot in the main draw, and M. Fucsovics' name turned out to be drawn first out of a hat (out of the first 4 names by rank), consequently becoming the first lucky loser to ascend to the main draw.

LL2: Dusan Lajovic (l. Arthur Cazaux 7-6(6), 2-6, 3-6, 6-4)

Dusan Lajovic's points to 6-6(7-6) in the 1st set tie-breaker (left) and to *1-0 40-40 (2nd set, right) (📸 Wimbledon qualifications feed)

Coming right from the Sassuolo Challenger runner-up (l. Carlos Taberner), Dusan Lajovic tried to redeem his season after slipping off the ranks due to an ankle injury that disrupted his 2024 season. His runner-up run last week might have brought more confidence to him, as he successfully knocked out Liam Draxl (albeit in 3 sets), as well as Arthur Bouquier to set up a clash against seventh seed Arthur Cazaux, who also had his previous season disrupted over various injuries, and defeated Ignacio Buse (also in 3 sets) and Ugo Blanchet en route to this round. While this match was considered a toss-up due to the close margin between them, it often came down to their shot execution at best.

The first set had several exchanges of breaks, which started with the Frenchman's backhand error to 2-1 before the break-back happened, putting both players level to 3-3 midway through the set. Fast-forward to the tenth game, D. Lajovic foiled a set point made due to him getting run over from the baseline to the seventh seed's preceding forehand before massively holding his serves to 5-5. The tie-breaker then became inevitable to close the first set, where A. Cazaux fired a drop-shot to set up his mini-break to 2-0 until a +1 error from the latter put them level again until 4-4 in the breaker. A preceding volley from D. Lajovic set up his crucial set point to 7-6 before he took the first set 7-6(6). He then continued his net play through a series of volleys to close the gap, trying to break back at the start of the second set, but he took a lengthy medical timeout over a fall occurring as he attempted to respond to A. Cazaux's volleys. Even barring the fall, the French seventh seed went on to nail his point constructions to take the rest of the three sets, leaving D. Lajovic fewer finishing options that contributed to his unforced errors before finally sealing the match in four sets, with the Serb being the second name drawn out of the hat as a lucky loser, replacing an injured Hubert Hurkacz.

LL3: Cristian Garin (l. Giulio Zeppieri 6-1, 2-6, 4-6, 7-5, 5-7)

Cristian Garin's point to break 3-0 (1st set, left) and to 4-1* 0-15 (4th set, right) (📸 Wimbledon qualification feed)

Although the past season hasn’t been the kindest to him, 2022 Wimbledon quarterfinalist Cristian Garin has started to regain form, making deep runs in his last two clay-court tournaments before falling to the eventual champions in both: the Bratislava Challenger semifinals (lost to Dino Prizmic 3-6, 2-6) and the Poznan Challenger semifinals (lost to Filip Misolic 3-6, 4-6). Without dropping a set, he defeated Francesco Maestrelli and Hady Habib in the first two qualifying rounds before facing Giulio Zeppieri, who knocked out Sumit Nagal and wild card Paul Jubb in the first two qualifying rounds.

C. Garin dominated the opening set, breaking early for a 1-0 lead, then consolidating with a hold to 2-0. A well-executed drop shot secured a double-break cushion at 3-0, and the Chilean eventually served out the set comfortably for a 6-1 "breadstick." However, G. Zeppieri responded with heavier groundstrokes, turning the momentum to take the next two sets 6-2, 6-4. In the best-of-five format, Garin bounced back in the fourth, racing to a 4-1 lead after a strong volley helped him extend his advantage. Although he was broken while serving for the set at 5-3, despite setting up his first set point with an ace, he managed to edge out the set 7-5. The fifth set was tightly contested. Garin broke back midway through, but couldn’t hold off Zeppieri's late-match aggression. The Italian struck several clean winners in the 11th game, sealing the decider 7-5. Despite the loss, Garin entered the main draw as a lucky loser, replacing Pablo Carreño Busta.

The Rest of the LL Saga

The rest of the lucky losers (sorted by me, entry rankings were compiled by Darts Rankings)

Depending on whose name appeared first in the Lucky Loser Draw, should there be another withdrawal, someone between Tomas Barrios Vera and Alexander Blockx would likely ascend, with either Martin Landaluce or Kyrian Jacquet having to stand by in case of sudden withdrawals a la last Roland Garros. Outside of them, except for a massive number of withdrawals that suddenly happened, it is unlikely that the rest of the list will ascend to the main draw by the end of the first round. However, should another round of withdrawals happen, the lucky losers will ascend by order of their seeding rankings.

[patsketch]

Global Patent Drawing Compliance: A Country-by-Country Overview

Patent drawings are a critical part of patent applications across the globe. While their purpose remains largely the same, to visually explain an invention, the rules and requirements for patent drawings vary significantly from country to country. If you're filing internationally through the PCT (Patent Cooperation Treaty) or directly in specific jurisdictions, it's essential to ensure your patent drawings comply with global standards.

In this article, we’ll break down the key compliance rules for patent drawings in major patent offices, how they differ, and why working with experienced patent drawing services can save you time, money, and the risk of rejection.

Why Patent Drawing Compliance Varies by Country

Patent drawing requirements aren't one-size-fits-all. Each patent office, whether it's the USPTO, EPO, JPO, or others, has its own rules regarding formatting, views, margins, and drawing conventions. These differences stem from local legal frameworks, examination procedures, and the way each jurisdiction interprets functionality and design.

For inventors seeking international protection, this means a universal set of drawings often won’t suffice. Instead, drawings must be adapted to meet each office’s specific standards, a task best entrusted to professionals with expertise in global patent compliance. Their familiarity with these nuances ensures smoother filings and stronger protection across borders.

Key Patent Drawing Requirements by Country

1. United States (USPTO)

Drawing Type: Black and white line drawings; shading allowed under strict rules.

Margins: 2.5 cm top, 2.5 cm left, 1.5 cm right, and 1.0 cm bottom.

Sheet Size: A4 or letter (21.0 × 29.7 cm or 21.6 × 27.9 cm).

Views: All necessary views, including front, rear, top, bottom, left, right, and perspective.

Reference Numbers: Mandatory and must match the written specification.

The USPTO has strict formatting guidelines, and non-compliance can lead to Office Actions that delay the application process.

2. European Patent Office (EPO)

Drawing Type: Black and white line drawings only; no grayscale or colour

Margins: 2.5 cm top, left; 2.0 cm right; 1.0 cm bottom

Font: Sans-serif only (Arial or Helvetica preferred)

Numbers: No brackets, parentheses, or underlining allowed in reference numbers

Sheet Size: A4 only

The EPO is very particular about line weight and text font, and non-compliant drawings can result in formal objections.

3. China (CNIPA)

Drawing Type: Black and white only; strict on line quality

Margins: Similar to EPO

Language: Annotations or labels must be in Chinese

Sheet Size: A4 only

Translation: Any English-language text in drawings must be translated

In China, drawings must be free from any non-Chinese annotation, so professional translation and redraws are often needed.

4. Japan (JPO)

Drawing Type: High-contrast black and white line art.

Margins: Very similar to USPTO.

Labels: Use of numbers is standard; no text within the drawings.

Sheet Size: A4.

Special Notes: Precision and clean presentation are heavily emphasised.

The JPO discourages unnecessary artistic embellishments and focuses on technical clarity.

5. India (IPO)

Drawing Type: Black and white line drawings; computer-generated preferred.

Margins: 4 cm top, 3 cm left, 3 cm right, 2 cm bottom.

Sheet Size: A4.

Labels: Reference numbers required; no shading unless necessary for clarity.

The Indian Patent Office allows some flexibility, but drawings must match the claims closely.

6. World Intellectual Property Organisation (WIPO - PCT Filings)

Drawing Type: Must follow international standards (similar to EPO and USPTO).

Margins: Strict and uniform.

Sheet Size: A4 only.

Language: No text in drawings unless approved.

Submission: Drawings must be in black and white, with no colour unless requested and approved in advance.

PCT drawings must be universally acceptable, as they’ll be reviewed by multiple national offices during the international phase.

Why Work with a Global Patent Drawing Service?

Given the complexity of these country-specific requirements, trying to manage compliance on your own can be risky. Errors in patent drawings can:

Delay the patent process

Trigger Office Actions or objections

Force costly redraws

Weaken your legal protection

Professional patent drawing services ensure that your illustrations are:

Technically accurate

Visually clear

Legally compliant with each jurisdiction’s standards

They understand nuances like phantom lines, shading rules, and annotation limitations, ensuring your drawings withstand scrutiny in every market.

Best Practices for International Patent Drawing Compliance

To ensure your patent drawings are accepted across jurisdictions, follow these key best practices:

Use vector-based drawing software such as AutoCAD, SolidWorks, Adobe Illustrator, or similar tools. These platforms provide clean, scalable, and precise illustrations suitable for formal submissions.

Avoid using colour, grayscale, or unnecessary text in your drawings unless specifically required by the patent office. Most jurisdictions only accept black-and-white line art, and text should be limited to reference numbers.

Include only the necessary details. Overloading your drawings with excessive or irrelevant elements can confuse examiners and weaken clarity. Focus on what supports your claims.

Label all components consistently with the terminology used in your written specification. Mismatches can create ambiguity and trigger rejections.

Ensure proper formatting, including correct margins, sheet sizes (usually A4 or US Letter), and layout, based on each patent office's specific requirements.

Work with experienced patent illustrators who are familiar with the guidelines of major offices like the USPTO, EPO, WIPO (PCT), CNIPA, JPO, and IPO India. Their expertise reduces risk and improves the chances of first-pass approval.

Summation

Patent drawing compliance isn't just a technical formality; it’s a cornerstone of successful global patent protection. Whether you’re filing in the U.S., Europe, China, or through the PCT, even minor inconsistencies can lead to delays, rejections, or weaker legal coverage.

The requirements vary widely by jurisdiction, making a one-size-fits-all approach ineffective. By working with professional patent drawing services that understand the intricacies of each patent office, from formatting and margins to language and shading rules, you reduce risk and improve the strength of your application.

In short: if you’re serious about protecting your invention internationally, ensure your drawings are clear, compliant, and country-ready. Precision today leads to protection tomorrow.

[thepatentexperts]

How to Make Utility Patent Drawings That Meet USPTO Standards | The Patent Experts

Creating accurate and USPTO-compliant utility patent drawings is essential to filing a successful utility patent application. These drawings are not just visual aids — they are legal documents that explain your invention in detail. Without proper illustrations, your application may be delayed, rejected, or misunderstood by the examiner.

This guide will walk you through everything you need to know about making utility patent drawings — from understanding USPTO requirements to choosing the right tools and avoiding common mistakes. We’ll also explore examples, FAQs, and real-life case studies to illustrate the process.

Why Are Utility Patent Drawings Important?

Utility patent drawings serve as a visual explanation of your invention. They clarify what words alone often can’t. The USPTO requires that every element of the invention described in the claims must also appear in the drawings.

Drawings:

Support the claims made in the application

Help examiners understand complex structures

Prevent ambiguity and misinterpretation

Are legally binding and used in enforcement

Even if the invention seems simple, clear drawings can mean the difference between approval and rejection.

USPTO Utility Patent Drawing Requirements

The USPTO outlines strict guidelines for utility patent drawings. Failing to comply with these can result in office actions and rework. Here’s what the USPTO expects:

Black and White Line Art: Color drawings are only accepted if color is essential to understanding the invention and if a petition is filed.

Size and Margins: 8.5 x 11-inch pages with specific margins (top: 1", left: 1", right: 0.6", bottom: 0.4").

Readable and Uniform: Drawings must be clean, sharp, and to scale.

No Text Inside Drawings: Only reference numbers are allowed.

Consistent Line Styles: Solid lines for visible parts, dashed or broken lines for hidden or optional parts.

Proper Labeling: All parts must be numbered and consistent throughout views.

Choosing the Right Views for Your Invention

The goal of utility drawings is to represent the invention from all necessary perspectives. Depending on the complexity of your design, use a combination of the following:

Front View — Shows the most characteristic side.

Side and Rear Views — Offer additional dimensional context.

Top and Bottom Views — Clarify structure and orientation.

Sectional Views — Reveal internal structures or mechanisms.

Exploded Views — Show how parts fit and interact.

Perspective View (Optional) — Useful for complex geometries.

Each view must be aligned and proportionally accurate. Use multiple sheets if required to ensure every detail is visible and understandable.

Best Practices for Line Work and Labeling

Line styles must convey information clearly and meet legal requirements:

Solid Lines: Represent claimed, visible parts.

Broken Lines: Represent environment, optional parts, or elements not claimed.

Hatching: Used for sectional views to show material or distinguish parts.

Labeling must be:

Done using numerals (e.g., 100, 110, 120…)

Clear and legible

Matched exactly with descriptions in the specification

Avoid labeling elements with letters or descriptive words. Consistency is crucial.

Tools and Software for Creating Utility Drawings

While hand-drawing is technically acceptable, digital tools offer precision and efficiency. Here are popular tools for professional utility patent drawings:

AutoCAD — Industry standard for 2D technical drawings.

SolidWorks — Ideal for mechanical inventions and 3D modeling.

CorelDRAW — Great for vector-based illustrations.

Adobe Illustrator — Useful for clean, high-resolution line art.

SketchUp — Quick 3D concept design with export options.

Many inventors hire professional illustrators who specialize in USPTO-compliant drawings to avoid mistakes and save time.

Common Mistakes to Avoid

Getting drawings wrong can cost you valuable time and money. Here are common pitfalls:

Using color without approval

Including text inside drawings

Not showing all claimed elements

Poor resolution or pixelated lines

Repeating reference numbers for different elements

Incorrect or missing views

Not following required margins and page sizes

Tip: Review the USPTO’s Manual of Patent Examining Procedure (MPEP), Chapter 608.02 for drawing guidelines.

Real-Life Example: Smart Bottle Invention

An inventor designed a smart water bottle that tracks hydration. The utility patent drawings included:

Side view showing the bottle’s shape

Sectional view of the cap with embedded sensors

Exploded view showing the battery, chip, and housing

Perspective view to give an overview of the design

Each part was labeled and described in the written specification. The examiner immediately understood the invention’s structure, resulting in a faster approval process.

Case Study: When Bad Drawings Delay a Patent

A startup submitted a patent for a foldable bicycle. Their drawings were hand-sketched, lacked consistency, and had no reference numbers. The USPTO issued an office action requesting corrected drawings.

They then hired a professional illustrator, who:

Redrew all views to scale using CAD

Added correct labels and line styles

Submitted compliant PDF files

The revised submission passed examination, but the delay cost them 5 months and several hundred dollars in rework.

Advanced Tip: Use Flow Diagrams for Method-Based Inventions

If your invention involves a process or method, consider adding flow diagrams. These are not always required but can:

Clarify how steps relate

Support software or business method claims

Help the examiner visualize functionality

Label each step and make sure it aligns with your written claims.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q1: Do I need to submit utility patent drawings with my provisional patent application? A: No, it’s not mandatory, but it’s highly recommended. Well-prepared drawings strengthen your filing and establish early disclosure.

Q2: Can I draw them myself? A: Yes, but unless you’re trained in technical drawing, mistakes are likely. It’s safer to use software or hire a professional.

Q3: Do I need to include every part of my invention? A: Yes. Every part you describe or claim must appear in the drawings. Omitting elements may weaken your application.

Q4: Are color drawings ever acceptable? A: Only if color is essential to understanding the invention. You must submit a petition and justification.

Q5: How many views should I include? A: Enough to fully disclose the invention. At least front, side, and top views are typical. More complex inventions require sectional and exploded views.

Q6: Can I use photos instead of drawings? A: Only in rare cases and with special approval. The USPTO generally requires line drawings for clarity and legal purposes.

Q7: Will professional drawings increase my approval chances? A: Absolutely. They reduce ambiguity, ensure compliance, and speed up the examination process.

Final Thoughts

Utility patent drawings are a non-negotiable part of the patent application process. They communicate your invention visually and play a critical role in approval. Whether your invention is simple or complex, investing in proper, USPTO-compliant illustrations is one of the smartest steps you can take.

Get USPTO-Compliant Utility Patent Drawings from Experts

Ready to protect your invention with professional, fully compliant patent drawings? Don’t risk costly delays or office actions.

Get started with The Patent Experts now and ensure your drawings meet every USPTO requirement.

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Economical Fresno auto window repair and glass replacement services are a convenient way to guarantee vehicle safety, visibility, and longevity. From a small crack needing filling to full windshield replacement, expert services provide flawless results using the finest industry-standard materials. Quick and assured repairs prevent further damage, render driving more secure, and promote overall car lifespan. With courteous mobile services and insurance protection, auto glass repair has never been easier. Repairing glass damage on the spot is cost-saving and allows for a safe and hassle-free drive.

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