#transference used incorrectly

[technomagicalwitch]

I’ve given up on getting into heaven now so have 3 chapters, two of which are smut.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65296198/chapters/168161044

If you like:

⭐️ Rooftop confessions!

⭐️ First times!

⭐️ Very hard to explain dom/sub style sex shenanigans that involve the use of a singular body even though there’s actually two people!

Then this is for YOU! 🫵

And if you know me outside of Tumblr, no you don’t, thats a lie. I cannot be perceived. I am a wraith.

[sboochi]

*Throws otp into yet another universe from a childhood fave*

Some random info:

Jamie

First time he found out about the museum was when he was left behind on accident during a school trip

Huge dinosaur nerd. Nearly passed out when he saw his first fossil come to life

Annoyed by Jack and Hiccup's Romeo/Juliet shenanigans

Jack

Jamie's ancestor

Plays pranks on staff by appearing every morning in a different spot

Uses slang incorrectly just to mess with Jamie

Hiccup

Lost his leg when he was transferred from another museum. People still wonder where the replacement came from

Learned modern English for fun

"Oh you think my relationship with Jack is cringe? Well I saw you flirt with Marie Antoinette from floor 3 the other day sooo :/"

[krumbaphant]

the horrors are never ending

thought about finances again im gonna crack

[khattikeri]

i actually admire lan wangji's character development a lot more when i acknowledge that prior to wei wuxian's death, he isn't actually as "righteous".

teenage lan wangji is regarded highly because he is upper class, has strong cultivation, and obeys his family and society's strict expectations. his rigidity and responsibility are more guided by the idea that his duty (the "right thing") is rule-following rather than doing actual good, even against those rules.

he's not a perfect stickler for the rules. he can be stubborn and petty, but even the few times he does transgress (e.x. kneeling before the gentian house) he doesn't get very far.

anyway... even with all his manpain struggling-- maybe even because of it, and because of his own lack of political power compared to people like lan xichen or lan qiren-- young adult lan wangji was honestly pretty entitled, even with his genuinely good intentions towards wei wuxian.

instead of doing the more difficult (yet right) thing of speaking up against those persecuting wei wuxian-- calling out his elders and the other clans as wrong, unjust, unrighteous, and acting against them (see jiang clan motto "do the impossible", which wei wuxian embodied very well)-- lan wangji was constantly trying to get wei wuxian to change himself and fall in line with society's expectations to avoid dying.

true, he eventually fights 33 of his family members... but by the time nightless city even happens, once jiang yanli dies, it's far too late.

yes, resentful energy is dangerous, and yes guidao is deeply misunderstood, and yes lan wangji didn't know about the golden core transfer. but even without knowing wei wuxian has no alternative, lan wangji knew that others were incorrectly labeling wei wuxian as evil. he knew the major clans kept attacking and provoking him, and while harder to realize, he could've reasonably seen how wei wuxian's actions are always twisted to demean him as a servant's son.

lan wangji wanted wei wuxian to come back to gusu so he could keep him safe, lock him up. but what would that have even helped in the end? love is a sympathetic cause, but locking up the one you love and never truly addressing why they're in danger is a selfish sort of love that doesn't reach the heart of the issues at hand.

only after wei wuxian's death is lan wangji able to let go of that. wei wuxian owed him nothing, not even change. lan wangji intentionally, purposefully chose each and every single day for thirteen years to remember wei wuxian by embodying what the man stood for, and acting accordingly. despite his grief and pain, he truly does become a good and righteous person.

contrast that with jiang cheng's reaction after wei wuxian's death. of clinging to everything he felt wei wuxian owed him. of vocally, violently demanding retribution after wei wuxian comes back to life. how dare you, why did you, you should've, you must... cattily justifying his aggression with equal parts resentful indignation and unhealthy "love" of their imbalance, of what they used to be.

lan wangji does none of that. by the time we reach the present day storyline, lan wangji, like wei wuxian, lets the past stay past and chooses to do good. even if that means going against the grain of society and expectations. he's a phenomenal person and character. i love him so much

[technofeudalism]

A Hmong American woman who is a mother of five has been deported from the Milwaukee area to Laos, a country she has never set foot in, according to a new report. Ma Yang, 37, is being held in a rooming house in Laos, surrounded by military guards, the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel reports. She does not speak the language, knows no one, and says the military is holding all of her documents. "The United States sent me back to die," Yang told the outlet. "I don't even know where to go. I don't even know what to do." "How do I rent, or buy, or anything, with no papers?" she added. "I'm a nobody right now." The 37-year-old is also without insulin for her diabetes and is running out of her medication for high blood pressure. Yang was born in Thailand and was a legal permanent US resident until she pleaded guilty to marijuana-related charges and served more than 2 years in prison. She took the plea deal after her attorney incorrectly stated it wouldn’t affect her legal permanent residency, which was later revoked, the Journal Sentinel reports. Yang says she would’ve taken a longer sentence to keep her legal residency. “I made a mistake and I know that it was wrong," she told the outlet. "But I served the time for it already." After her sentence, Yang was taken to an Immigration and Customs Enforcement facility in Minnesota. There, a new attorney told her to sign a document that allowed her to leave but required her to agree that a deportation order would be entered against her, according to the Journal Sentinel. Yang’s attorney believed she would never be deported, as the US typically deports a small number of people to the country each year and Laos has typically refused to accept deportees, the Journal Sentinel reports. Yang also thought her case would be re-opened because she had poor representation. It wasn’t. "I just keep getting screwed in this system," Yang told the Journal Sentinel. In February, ICE agents asked Yang to report to their Milwaukee facility. From there, she was detained, sent to Indiana, transferred to Chicago, and finally put on a series of flights to Laos.

[croquis-el]

Naruhodō's Pedantry

Part 1

You may not have expected this topic, but if you notice, we've already touched on it a little when we talked about Naruhodō and his attitude to art. He openly criticized or admired what he noticed along the way. This is reflected in another aspect of his personality - an extremely pedantic attitude to his native language, in particular - speech and reading. From case to case, the Easter egg in the form of an argument about ladders and stepladders adds comedy and pleasantly dilutes the atmosphere (this is my favorite, I swear). However, have you noticed that there were many more of these "corrections"? Naruhodō literally has a trigger for misreading/pronouncing words, as well as for their incorrect use.

Let's start with something simple and familiar to everyone: ladders and stepladders

あ、ハシゴだ。

Oh, a ladder.

それはキャタツだよ。

That's a step-ladder.

Mayoi used the word:

ハシゴ [hashigo] , which means "ladder"

Naruhodō corrected her, saying that in front of them was:

キャタツ [kyatatsu] - stepladder

Everything is simple and logical, and was transferred to other languages ​​without loss.

___________________________________________

Don Monkey

Next, in the same case 1-3, Naruhodō encounters another injustice - an incorrectly pronounced name.

“サルマゲくん”のクビが道をふさいでいたのだから!

Because "Sarumage-kun's" neck was blocking the way!

(ホントは“サルマゲどん” なんだけど･･･)

(Actually it's "Sarumage-don"...)

(それにツッコミを入れる気にもなれないな･･･)

(I don't feel like commenting on that...)

There are a few things to note here.

First: Mitsurugi actually only used the honorific incorrectly, the name itself was pronounced correctly. Ironically, "don" is not an honorific in Japanese (it is a title in Spain, Italy, and some other countries, it comes from the Latin "dominus" - lord). It has a slightly different meaning:

どん [don]:

1. Sound - bam, bang, boom, thud, thump, crush

2. characteristics - dull, slow, stupid - 鈍 [don]

3. porcelain bowl - 丼 [don]

4. coveting/raga (buddhist - desire) - 貪 [tan/don]

If you think about it, all the options seem completely inappropriate. The only one that can be stretched like an owl on a globe is option 2. So, it is highly likely that a foreign suffix was taken to address this mascot as "Mister".

By the way, the name Sarumage consists of two words: サル [saru] - monkey

マゲ [magei] - bun (hairstyle), chignon, topknot

Remember what was on the head of the TV studio mascot. A man bun like a samurai.

Second: Naruhodo's internal monologue.

If you translate それにツッコミを入れる気にもなれないな･･･ literally, you get the following:

However, I shouldn't let the tsukkomi spirit out.

Who is tsukkomi? We've already met him here. (Minuki gets to the root of it)

That is, he literally understands that this spirit of pedantry and criticism lives in him. And he can restrain himself if the situation is really serious and tense.

The next point arises - it turns out that if Naruhodo is tsukkomi, then Mitsurugi is boke?

___________________________________________

Pigeons, doves, pigeons?

ね。知ってる? ハトって、 平和のシンボルなんだよ!

Hey, did you know? Pigeons are a symbol of peace!

そりゃ、白いハトだけだろ。

Well, it's only white pigeons. (Doves)

かわいそうだね、この子たち。

Poor kids.

色が白くないだけなのに････ 平和になりそこねちゃって。

It's just not white... Peace has been lost.

な、何もそこまで

しんみりしなくても････

There's no need to be so sad about it...

はと (ハト) [hato] - pigeon, dove

Now the question arises: why was it necessary to correct Mayoi if she used exactly the same word? It's simple - she did not specify the color of the dove/pigeon, so the type of bird they are talking about must be guessed from the context (feral pigeons).

It is common knowledge that the symbol of peace is a dove, which is called "Dove of Peace" (there is even an emoji for it 🕊)

But in some languages ​​there is no special difference and no other name for white doves, so it is necessary to specify the color (in my language, the phrase "white pigeon" is also used, we do not have a special name for it).

Another funny detail: Mayoi calls pigeons

子たち [kotachi] - children

This word is a slang, an abbreviation from the Kansai dialect (Kansai-ben-abbreviation), while it belongs to the polite (teineigo) language. This is the most polite option among keigo (honorific speech). Derived from the word:

子供たち [kodomo tachi] - children

And now stop again: Mayoi speaks the Kansai dialect? Or knows the Kansai dialect and it sometimes slips into her speech. Considering that she grew up in a closed village, where she was raised in a matriarchal family, she could only have learned it from relatives. It is quite possible that this dialect is widespread within the village. And why is that? There was already a reason - The Edo period.

The Kansai dialect covers a group of related dialects of the Japanese language of the Kansai region. Among others, the Kansai dialects include the Kyoto dialect and the Osaka dialect, which is more melodic to speakers of literary Japanese, but harsh and sarcastic. Since Kyoto was the capital of Japan, until the middle of the Edo period, the old form of the Kansai dialect was the de facto pan-Japanese standard of the language.

We already saw the connection with the Edo period when we visited the Hazakura temple (here). This once again confirms that the Ayasato clan began somewhere in the Edo period and the Kansai region.

Since the Kansai dialect is the most common non-standard dialect of Japanese, it is often used by writers, anime and manga authors to show the speech of a character who is different from others.

So, we wanted to see how Naruhodō picks on words, but we dug up such treasures.

Let's continue in the next part.

[wowbright]

Transferring your Kindle library to calibre: The Easiest Way

For people who are trying to get their Amazon Kindle libraries imported into calibre, this is the easiest method I have found.

Pros:

easy if your entire library fits on your Kindle

Faster and less clicking than manually downloading each book onto your computer from the Amazon website and then importing it into calibre

It allows you to import "Docs" from your Amazon Digital Content as well as "Books"

Does not require you to understand coding language or how to use scripts

This method should continue to work after February 26th (when Amazon will no longer allow manual downloads from its website to your computer)

Cons:

you have to use whispersync (only a con if you can't use or are opposed to using whispersync)

Doesn't work if you don't own a Kindle

These instructions are for the latest edition of calibre in Windows, but it works similarly on Mac (typos ahead because I am dictating this and my dictation does not spell calibre nor many other things correctly):

On your Kindle:

Download every Book and Doc you have stored in the Kindle cloud. You have to do this one at a time so it's boring, I did it while watching TV and listening to podcasts.

On your desktop:

Download and install calibre

Open caliber

Click on preferences from the top menu, roll down to add plugins

Install the KFX input plugin

Do an internet search for "NoDRM" caliber plug in. The latest version is 10.0.9. download and unzip the file folder. There are zipped files inside that folder. Leave those zipped files alone.

Go back to caliber, go to preferences, select advanced, select tags. You have the option of importing plugins from your desktop. Choose that option. Through that option, go to the folder you just unzipped and click on the "NoDRM" or "DeDRM" zip file. It should install.

IMPORTANT: click on customize plugin. A screen will appear where you can enter the serial number from your Kindle. You must enter a serial number or this plugin will not work.

Connect your kindle to your computer using a USB cable. A device icon should show up on the menu at the top of your caliber window. Click on the device icon.

A list of all the books and documents you have downloaded onto your Kindle should appear in the library window. Select all of them using the ctrl-A keyboard shortcut. Right click and choose "add to library".

Wait until caliber says you are done importing. Then you can disconnect your Kindle.

You've done it! If you want to convert everything to a more universal file type like EPUB, go to your library, select all, right click, choose Convert Books > bulk convert, choose EPUB as your output format in the top right corner of the window, then hit okay in the bottom right corner of the window. Wait for the process to complete before quitting caliber!

If you get a message saying that you cannot open your Kindle books or that they cannot be converted, it's probably because you did not enter your serial number, you did not save it, or you entered it incorrectly. Go back to the plug-in settings and check on them. Other than that, I can't give you any tips because I only figured all of this stuff out yesterday!

[ambiguous-avery]

Moon Without Stars, Part 9

Sam Winchester x fem!Reader/You | WC: 5186

Summary: Hunters – the people who lived fast and lawless – had one rule they all abided by. No attachments. And in a world where your first touch with your soulmate would leave a brand behind, No Touching was an unspoken second rule. Not everyone followed that, but you did. Or you tried to. The last thing you needed was for fate to be cruel and bind you to someone. Least of all someone like Sam Winchester.

Tags/Warnings: Soulmate AU, sad Sam (that’s a warning all of its own), idiots fighting fate, strangers to enemies to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst, no use of Y/N, no beta we die like men

A/N: I had way too much fun writing this chapter. To be fair, I’ve had fun writing this entire thing. But this chapter in particular? Loved it. Moon Without Stars Masterlist

“The Soulburn Imprint Theory posits that, in rare cases, when a soulmate bond is severed – through trauma or unnatural disruption – a psychic residue remains. Not visible. Not active. But there. Like ash on the skin,” you read aloud, pursing your lips as you finished the line. “Sometimes, that residue can create the conditions for a new bond to form. Not as a replacement, but as a kind of second path the soul carves out when it refuses to stop wanting.” You rubbed your eyes and blinked at the words in front of you. “When the soul refuses to stop wanting… how poetic.”

“It’s more than that,” Sam said, moving closer to look over your shoulder. “It could explain what happened to you.” You could feel his warmth beside you, the gentle brush of his breath against your cheek. Your mark tingled pleasantly, urging you to lean into him. Maybe close the distance between your faces. You had given the damn thing an inch, and now it wanted to take a mile.

Sam had been eager to share several theories he had stumbled upon, and you had to hand it to him. All the theories he had presented to you were ones you hadn’t even heard of before. The Imprint Transfer Theory suggested that the first mark could’ve been imprinted on you incorrectly due to extreme emotional trauma, but it didn’t seem to fit. Then there was the Cursed Interference Theory that put the blame on a powerful hex or spell. And while that was possible, you couldn’t think of any witches you had pissed off that were capable of casting something strong enough to mess with fate.

“How does any of this explain my mark disappearing, though?” You frowned, scanning the passage again. “This just talks about forming new bonds after severance, not why the first one would vanish in the first place.” Sam reached across you, his arm touching yours as he flipped to the next page.

“Keep reading.”

“In the most extreme cases, the residue itself becomes volatile,” you continued. “Volatile enough to consume the original bond, leaving no trace of it behind. Like it was never there at all.”

Your fingers traced the words on the page, feeling a strange mixture of grief and vindication. You had never come across anything even remotely close to any of these in your research. Then again, you didn’t have an entire library of supernatural information at your fingertips when all of this happened originally. 

“This says it’s extremely rare,” you said, looking over at Sam. “As in, it’s never actually been heard of.”

“But it’s not impossible,” Sam countered, his eyes never leaving your face. “And it matches what happened, right?”

“So… what? My first soulmate bond was so traumatic that it burned itself out? Self-destructed?” You leaned back in your seat, playing with the theory in your head. There hadn’t been anything in the last relationship that you could think of that might have contributed to something like that. Unless something was wrong with your soul.

“Or,” Sam cleared his throat, giving you a look that told you he felt that thought. You weren’t sure if you were annoyed or glad that he was tuned into you. Did that extend into other feelings and emotions? God, had he picked up on your longing? That would’ve been embarrassing… “Maybe there was something external. Something that interfered with the bond without you knowing.”

“That was the first thing I looked for. But I couldn’t find anything that had that sort of ability.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t have years and years of data to dig through. There’s numerous curses and hexes and other possible supernatural interference.” Sam ran his fingers along the spines of several other books stacked in front of you. “There are entities that feed on emotional connections. Maybe something was targeting your relationship, and you never knew it.”

The thought struck a chord in you.

“Wait… there was something. There was a case I was working on around the time it vanished. Hold on, I have my notes in my journal.” You pushed your chair back, and just as the legs scraped against the floor of the bunker, your stomach let out an equally low growl. Sam’s gaze snapped to you at the sound.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

You paused, trying to remember. The protein bar this morning with Dean felt like it had been hours ago, though you weren’t entirely sure what time it was. The bunker had a way of making time feel non-existent, especially when you were buried in research with Sam.

“This morning, I think?”

“You think?” Sam closed the book in front of you with a gentle thud. “Come on. Food first, then we can dive back into this.”

“This could be important.” Your back ached from hunching over the books, and your empty stomach was making demands with an urgency that rivaled your mark. But the possibility of answers felt so close. Like they were within your reach for the first time.

“And it’ll still be important after you eat something.” He stood with you, already moving towards the library entrance. “Besides, you said you have notes. Those aren’t going anywhere. Where are they?”

“They’re–” You paused. “In my car.” The admission came out reluctantly. Your car which was probably still in Colorado. Your journal had been your constant companion for years, filled with case details, personal notes, and observations. It was your hunter’s diary, and it contained more than just cases. It contained pieces of you that you weren’t sure you wanted Sam to see.

“We can see about getting your car tomorrow after your stitches come out, if you want.”

Right. Your stitches. That were coming out tomorrow. And then you were free. The thought hit you like a physical blow, stealing away your breath and almost making you double over. Tomorrow. The artificial deadline that had seemed so distant when you had first woken up in this bunker was suddenly right there, looming over you like a storm cloud.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice cut through your spiral. “You okay?”

You realized that you’d gone completely still, staring at the table like a deer caught in the headlights. Sam had a hand just inches away from your shoulder. Like he had reached out for you instinctively but stopped himself.

“Tomorrow,” you said, the word feeling strange on your tongue. “The stitches come out tomorrow.” Understanding dawned across his face followed by something that looked suspiciously like resignation. He carefully placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “They do.” A beat of silence passed between the two of you. Tomorrow meant choices. Tomorrow meant deciding whether to stay or go. Tomorrow meant facing the reality that had been lurking at the edges of your consciousness all week.

The weight of his hand on your shoulder anchored you, but it also made everything feel more real. More immediate. You had been living in this strange suspended animation for six days. Telling yourself that it was temporary. That you were just healing. But now the clock was ticking down to an actual decision.

“What happens then?” you asked. Sam’s thumb traced a small circle on your shoulder.

“Whatever you want to happen.”

“That’s not helpful.”

“I know.” His hand dropped away, leaving you feeling oddly bereft. “But it’s the truth. I’m not going to pressure you into staying. And I’m not going to pretend it won’t hurt if you leave.” It was refreshing just how honest Sam was when he spoke. You could almost believe that he had never been burned by it before. Almost. Your mark pulsed with affection, and you couldn’t deny that it was entirely yours. “You don’t have to decide anything tomorrow. Getting the stitches out doesn’t mean you have to leave.”

“I know.”

But did you? 

“Come on. I was thinking that we could get out of the bunker again. I know a place that isn’t too far from here. Small diner. Good food. I can convince Dean to let me borrow the Impala. We could… go there. Together.” There was a careful hesitation in his voice, like he was offering something more significant than just a meal. 

And maybe he was.

Your heart did something complicated in your chest. A skip, then a flutter, then a steady rhythm that seemed to sync with your mark. A date? Was he asking you on a date? He hadn’t said those exact words, but the implication was there, hanging between the two of you like a bridge you could either cross or burn.

“Like a date?” you asked before you could stop yourself. And you immediately wished you could take them back. They were too direct. Too vulnerable. Too much like admitting that the idea appealed to you more than you wanted him to know. Sam’s cheeks flushed pink, and he ran a hand through his hair.

“I mean… if you want it to be. Or it could just be… dinner. Between two people who are tired of eating bunker food.”

You studied his face, looking for any sign that this was some elaborate form of manipulation. Some way to get you to stay by making you think that there was something more here than there actually was. But all you found was the same earnest sincerity that had been slowly dismantling your defenses for the past week. Sam Winchester didn’t seem capable of manipulation, even if he wanted to be.

“A date,” you repeated slowly, testing the word. When was the last time you had been on an actual date? Years, probably. Your mark hummed approvingly, and you could feel Sam’s familiar warmth bleeding through from Sam’s side of the connection. 

“Only if you want,” Sam said quickly. “No pressure. We can just call it dinner.” But you could see the hope in his eyes. The careful way he was watching your face for any sign of how you might’ve responded. And you realized that some part of you – the part that had been buried under years of cynicism and hurt – wanted this. Wanted him.

“I can’t even remember the last date I went on.”

“Me neither,” Sam admitted, and something about his confession made you feel less exposed. Less like you were the only one taking a risk. “So we can both be equally terrible at it.”

Despite the fear and uncertainty and the voice in your head screaming that this was all one big mistake, you found yourself smiling. Really smiling. Not the careful half-expressions you’d been rationing out all week.

“Okay,” you said, and the word felt like stepping off a cliff. “Yes. Let’s go on a terrible date.”

The smile that spread across Sam’s face was radiant. Pure joy and relief mixed together in a way that made your chest tight with attraction for him. You wanted to see him smile like that more often. For the rest of your days. Your mark sang with shared joy, and for once, you didn’t try to quiet it.

The diner was a classic small-town establishment. Red vinyl booths, chrome accents, and a jukebox in the corner playing something from the 70s. The scent of grilled onions and fresh coffee hung in the air, wrapping around you with a comfortable familiarity.

The diner’s vinyl seat creaked beneath you as you settled in, the faux-leather worn smooth from years of customers sliding in and out. Sam sat across from you, and the table felt both too wide and too narrow at once. Too much space between your hands and not enough between your knees. You blamed Sam’s long legs.

You were hyper aware of every detail around you. The flickering neon sign outside casting intermittent blue across Sam’s features. The gentle hum of conversation from the other patrons. You’d been in a thousand diners like this one. But never quite like this. Never with your mark purring like a cat beneath your sleeve and feeling like you could be happy doing this for the rest of your life. Sitting across from your hazel-eyed soulmate.

“So… you really grew up on places like this, huh?” you asked softly.

“Yeah. Diners and cheap motels. Dean and I could probably recite the specials in half the Midwest.”

“Let me guess. He always orders the pie.”

“Religiously. He still does. Pretty sure if he had to choose between saving the world or saving a cherry pie, he’d at least hesitate.” You laughed, and it drew Sam’s attention like gravity, his eyes lighting up at the sound. He was looking at you like you were something precious. Someone who mattered.

“Don’t let me leave here without a replacement pie for him. I told him I’d pay him back with interest for the piece I stole.”

“You may need to grab two in that case.”

“Two pies?” you asked, eyebrows arched. “What kind of interest rate are we talking about here?”

“Winchester interest. It’s complicated math involving guilt, manipulation, and the occasional threat of bodily harm.” You laughed again, feeling an invisible weight slide off your shoulders.

Conversation with Sam came easily, and after ordering a cup of coffee to calm your nerves, the two of you settled into a comfortable ebb and flow of dialogue. The waitress returned with your coffee and set down two warm mugs. You found yourself studying Sam’s hands as he wrapped them around the ceramic. Long fingers, careful movements, the same hands that stitched you back together.

“So, what’s your order?” Sam asked, glancing at the laminated menu in front of him. “Your go-to diner food?” You thought for a moment, running your finger along the rim of your mug.

“Depends on the diner. But usually something that won’t give me food poisoning and costs less than ten bucks.” You paused, realizing how that probably sounded. “Glamorous, I know.”

“Hey, it’s practical. Dean would approve.” Sam’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled like that. “Though I have to ask. Worst diner experience?”

“Oh god.” You leaned back against the booth. “Oklahoma, maybe four years ago. This place called Mel’s that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since it opened. I ordered a burger, and it came out still mooing.”

“Please don’t tell me you ate it.”

“I’m not that desperate,” you said with a mock shudder. “Though the waitress did try to convince me that it was medium rare. I ended up eating a sleeve of saltines and called it a dinner.” Sam winced.

“That sounds like a crime against diners everywhere.”

“It really was. I didn’t trust a burger for at least a month and a half afterwords.” You smiled as you spoke, shredding the napkin in neat little strips just to have some outlet for your nervous energy. “Since we’re on the topic of ‘worsts,’” you began, moving to take a sip of coffee that was surprisingly decent. “What’s the worst date you’ve been on?” Sam cocked his head to the side.

“We’re starting with disasters?”

“I figure it’s the best way to set the bar low,” you replied with a shrug. “Makes this one look better by comparison.” Sam laughed and shook his head, and you noticed the way some of the tension in his shoulders slipped away.

“Well, there was this one time in college. My friend set me up with his girlfriend’s roommate. Said she was ‘perfect for me’ because she was also tall.”

“That was his entire criteria?” You leaned forward slightly, hooked onto every word he had to say.

“Apparently. The full extent of his match making skills,” Sam confirmed with a solemn nod and a wry grin. “So I showed up at this Italian restaurant that she picked. Way too fancy for my student budget. And she had already ordered the most expensive bottle of wine on the menu.”

“Oh no,” you groaned sympathetically.

“Oh yes. And that wasn’t even the worst part. She spent the entire night talking about her ex-boyfriend. In excruciating detail. Including a fifteen-minute monologue about his–” Sam cleared his throat meaningfully, “–physical attributes.”

You swore your jaw nearly hit the table, and you weren’t sure if you should’ve laughed or been appalled for him. Maybe both?

“She didn’t.”

“She absolutely did. By dessert, I knew more about this guy than I knew about Dean.”

“So what did you do?” You couldn’t help it. You laughed. But it came easily, bubbling up from somewhere that had been dormant for too long.

“Excused myself to the bathroom and seriously considered climbing out the window,” Sam admitted. “But I was on the second floor, so I figured broken bones weren’t worth avoiding an awkward goodbye.”

“You stayed through the whole thing? You are way too polite.”

“Well, don’t give me too much credit. I did fake an emergency to cut it short when she started showing me pictures.”

“Of her ex?”

“Pictures of the ex. At the beach. Shirtless.”

You dissolved into laughter again, the sound echoing off the diner’s walls. A few of the other patrons glanced over, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. When was the last time you had laughed like this? Really laughed. Not the bitter chuckle you’d perfected over the years of disappointment. You weren’t sure.

“Your turn,” Sam prompted, eyes twinkling with mirth. “Worst date for you?”

“Easy. Wisconsin about six months ago. Guy seemed normal at first. A firefighter, liked hiking, had this adorable golden retriever.” You stirred your coffee absentmindedly. “We met at a bar after I finished a hunt. I was actually in a good mood for once… which, really, that should’ve been my first warning sign.”

“The universe can’t have that,” Sam said with mock seriousness.

“Exactly. So halfway through the date, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. Ten minutes went by. Then twenty. I was starting to think he had ditched me. Which, honestly, would’ve been better than what actually happened.”

“But he didn’t?”

“Nope. He came back with his wife.” It was Sam’s turn to look shocked.

“His wife?”

“Yup. He sat back down and introduced me to her like everything was totally normal. Then said, ‘we’ve been talking about trying something new to spice things up.’”

“No.”

“Yeah. Turns out, the entire date was just a setup for them to find a third person for their relationship reboot.” You rolled your eyes at the memory. “I guess something about me just screamed ‘willing to fix your marriage’ to him.”

“What did you do?”

“Smiled, excused myself to the bathroom, and climbed out the window.” You raised your mug in toast. “Unlike you, I was on the ground floor, and I’m not a polite person.” Sam’s laughter warmed you more than the coffee.

“That’s brilliant.” He was all dimples and teeth, and his eyes crinkled at the corners in the way you had come to recognize as a genuine smile. “It’s a good exit strategy.”

“It’s served me well over the years,” you said with a shrug. “Though... I’ve mostly given up on dating since... you know. Hunting doesn’t really make for a good relationship foundation.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Sam agreed, his expression softening. “I’ve wondered what it would be like to have someone who understood this life.”

The unspoken implication floated between you. Someone like you. Your mark thrummed in response, and you found yourself staring down at your coffee mug to avoid meeting his gaze. Thankfully, the waitress returned, saving you from having to formulate a response.

“Ready to order?”

You both ordered, and when she left, a comfortable silence settled over your table. It struck you how natural it felt. Sitting across from Sam in a weathered booth. Sharing terrible dating stories like you were both normal people. Not hunters. Not soulmates. Just two people having dinner together. 

“You know...” you began after a small beat. “This is already better than both of those dates combined.” Sam’s responding smile was soft. Almost shy. Boyish, even.

“Low bar, but I’ll take it.”

“I meant it as a compliment,” you clarified. You absentmindedly traced your mark through your sleeve. “This is... nice.” Sam’s gaze followed the movement of your fingers, mesmerized.

“Yeah. It is.”

The waitress returned with your food, setting two plates down that smelled incredible after days of bunker meals. Your stomach growled in anticipation. Sam noticed.

“See? Food was definitely needed,” he said. You rolled your eyes at him, but it didn’t dull your smile. Your cheeks were beginning to hurt with how much you had been smiling over the last hour.

“Yeah, yeah. You were right,” you conceded as you picked up the fork. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

The food was exactly what diner food should’ve been – unpretentious, hearty, and satisfying. You found yourself relaxing as you ate, the day’s tension gradually melting away. Sam filled the silence between bites with stories of previous hunts he and Dean had done. You shared snippets of your own hunting experiences, carefully editing them to avoid the darker moments. You assumed that Sam had done the same as he spoke. The conversation felt natural. Like the two of you had been doing it for years rather than days. Sharing a meal with someone had never felt so right. And when your knees bumped beneath the table, neither of you pulled away.

“Can I ask you something?” Sam said after a while, pushing his empty plate aside.

“Depends on the question,” you replied. Your tone was light, edgeless.

“Fair enough.” He hesitated, running a finger along the rim of his own coffee cup. “I’ve been wondering... What happens after tomorrow?”

Your heart dropped in your chest. Sure, you knew you were going to have to face it eventually. But you had been hoping that you wouldn’t. That maybe... maybe it could just... be pushed under the rug and nobody would question it. Leave it to Sam to drag it out into the light. Your fork had paused halfway to your mouth, and you wet your lips before you set it down carefully on your plate.

“You mean when the stitches come out?”

“Yeah.” His eyes met yours, steady and unguarded. “I know I said no pressure, and I meant it. But I can’t pretend I’m not thinking about it.” You took a slow, measured breath, feeling his nervous anticipation bleed through the mark. 

“I don’t know,” you admitted softly. “At the beginning of the week, I would’ve said that I’d be gone before the sun came up.”

“And now?”

You studied his face – his earnest hazel eyes, the slight furrow between his brows, the way he held himself carefully still as if any sudden movement might startle you into running. Your mark hummed against your wrist, a gentle reminder of its presence. Of him.

“Now... I’m thinking about staying.”

The words hung between you, the weight of them shifting the very air in the diner. Sam’s expression didn’t change. Not right away. He seemed like he was processing what you had said, afraid to react too strongly lest it make you change your mind.

“Thinking about staying,” he repeated carefully, his voice controlled, but you could feel the hope radiating through your mark.

“Yeah.” You pushed your plate aside, suddenly needing something to do with your hands. “Not forever or anything. Just... for now.”

“For now is good,” Sam said, almost too quickly. He reined himself in, though a smile slowly spread across his face like a sunrise. “For now is really good.”

The realization that you wanted to stay had been building slowly all week, like sediment settling at the bottom of a river. It wasn’t some grand epiphany. Just a quiet acknowledgement. Something that had always been there just under the surface. Lurking beneath every interaction.

“I’m not saying I’m going to unpack my entire life in the bunker,” you clarified quickly, needing to set boundaries even as your mark practically glowed with contentment. “Just... maybe stick around while we figure out what happened with my first mark. You brought up a lot of theories I had never heard of before.” You paused, chewing on your own words. “Maybe we could help each other on a hunt or two.” Sam’s smile didn’t dim, but it shifted into something more knowing.

“Of course. Strictly professional research and monster hunting.”

“Exactly.” You reached for your coffee, hiding your own smile behind the rim of the mug. “And... maybe the occasional terrible date.”

“I can work with that.”

The waitress stopped by with the check, and both of you reached for it at the same time, fingers brushing. The electric jolt of the connection made you pull back abruptly, and Sam took advantage of it, snagging the bill with a triumphant look.

“I can pay for my own dinner,” you protested, though your voice lacked conviction.

“I know you can,” Sam replied with a shrug, already tugging his wallet from his pocket. “But technically I asked you out, so it’s on me. Next time can be your treat.”

Next time. The words settled in your chest, warm and promising. You weren’t even out the door from this date, and he was already talking of another one. And the strangest part of it all? The thought of it didn’t make you want to run like it normally should’ve.

“Fine. But I’m getting the pies,” you countered, nodding towards the glass case near the register where several perfectly golden crusts sat on display.

“Deal.”

Outside, the night air felt crisp against your skin, a welcome coolness after the warmth of the diner. The Impala sat waiting in the parking lot, its sleek, black surface reflecting the neon signs from the diner windows. Sam walked beside you, close enough that your arms could brush if either of you shifted in just the right way. Your mark urged you to do exactly that.

“For what it’s worth,” Sam began as you approached the car, “I’m glad you’re thinking about staying.” The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You had spent so long running from connections. From possibilities. From potential happiness. Standing still felt revolutionary.

“Me too.” And you surprised yourself with how much you meant it.

Sam opened the passenger door for you. You set the two pies in the footwell, and as you slid into the Impala, you caught a glimpse of his face in the dim light of the parking lot. There was something in his expression that made your breath catch – a mixture of hope and caution. Like a man who had been given something precious but was afraid that it might shatter if he held it too tightly.

The drive back to the bunker was quiet, but it was a comfortable silence, filled with the low rumble of the Impala’s engine and the occasional rustle as one of you shifted in your seat. Your mark pulsed gently, content in a way you had never felt it before, even with your previous ‘soulmate.’ The entire drive, you found yourself stealing glances at Sam’s profile. The sharp line of his jaw softened by the passing streetlights. The way his hair fell over his ear. The roll of his shoulder as he took a turn off the main road.

When he pulled into the bunker’s garage, neither of you made a move to get out immediately. The engine ticked as it cooled, counting down seconds of a moment you were reluctant to let end.

“Thank you,” you said finally, turning slightly to face him. “For dinner. And… everything else.” Sam looked at you and offered an easy smile.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“I know. But I want to.”

“Then you’re welcome,” he said quietly.

The silence stretched between you, electric with possibility. Your gaze dropped to his lips for just a moment – a dangerous moment – before you looked away. For a fleeting second, you wondered what it would be like to lean across the seat and close the distance between you. To feel his lips against yours. To give in to the pull that had been there since the beginning. Your mark practically vibrated with the thought.

Instead, you reached out and brushed your fingers against the back of his hand where it rested on the bench between you. It was a small gesture, little more than a touch, but it felt monumental. Like a leap of faith.

Sam turned his hand over, palm up. An invitation without demand. You hesitated for a moment longer. Then, you slowly slid your fingers into his. The touch sent a cascade of warmth up your arm, your mark humming with satisfaction like it had been waiting for this moment all along.

His hand engulfed yours completely, warm and solid and real. Your fingers interlaced with his as naturally as breathing, and you marveled at how the simple contact felt more intimate than anything you had experienced in years.

“Baby steps,” you whispered, unable to tear your gaze away from your intertwined fingers.

“Baby steps,” he agreed, his thumb gently brushing across your knuckles.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there holding his hand. Neither of you seemed keen on breaking the fragile connection. The garage was silent except for your breathing and the occasional metallic ping from the cooling engine. It felt like a bubble suspended in time. Something safe and separate from the outside world. Your mark pulsed in time with your heartbeat. Or maybe it was Sam’s. You couldn’t tell anymore where your sensations ended and his began.

When you finally pulled away, it was reluctant. The two of you wordlessly clambered out of the Impala and back into the bunker, and you left the two pies in the fridge like an offering before bidding Sam a good night.

You sat on the edge of your bed, fingers tracing over the spot where your hand had joined with Sam’s. His warmth lingered, phantom and sweet and grounding. You had never been the type to believe in signs or omens, but you couldn’t deny the way that your entire body felt lighter. Different. Like some internal compass that had been spinning wildly for years had finally found its true north. You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this way. Felt like maybe, just maybe, things might work out for you.

The sound of your phone ringing startled you from your thoughts. You glanced at the screen, expecting Sam with a weak excuse not to let the night end. Or maybe Dean had found the pies. Instead, an unknown number flashed across the display.  That wasn’t uncommon. Hunters changed numbers so often that it was rare to save anyone in your contact list. Sam was your exception. You flipped it open and lifted it to your ear.

“Hello?”

The person on the other line said your name, their voice shredded and wrecked like they had been screaming for hours. Your blood ran cold as the familiarity of the voice washed over you in all the ways you had never wanted it to.

“Please help me. It’s back.”

The line went dead.

---

Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

Sam taglist: @jollyhunter @sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth @voodoochildthings @sir-thisisadndserver @colours-of-thewind @kiddieclaws @theamuz @mostlymarvelgirl @rurwu @imalapdog @losers-clvb @zyra-7 @ladykitana90 @alexfms97 @jbear750

Drop a comment, ask away, or add yourself to my taglist!

Part 8 --- Part 10

[biggesthomuradefender]

homura akemi & birds: black swans, crows, & ravens (analysis)

i feel like i've noticed that homura has some interesting similarities/coincidences (?) w birds, specifically crows, ravens, and black swans. and since i haven't seen anyone rly mention it yet, i decided i might as well and have a crack at it :)

i hope you enjoy !!

- black swans.

now, the easiest comparison u can make first is the fact that homura's entire devil outfit seems to be made entirely out of dark feathers, or at least replicating the appearance of them. she even has wings made of black feathers and bone (i had no idea the white part was bone, deadass thought that was just for aesthetic purposes only. isn't that cool and morbid as hell???) as well.

i feel like this is a very obvious reference to the black swan from swan lake, aka odile, often presented as odette's (the white swan, aka madoka/ultimate madoka in this scenario) double or opposite, causing them to create yin and yang together.

(an image of the black swan, aka odile, and the white swan, aka odette, from the 2010 "black swan" movie)

homura believes herself to be the devil, the very embodiment of all that is evil, wicked, unlovable, etc. bc of her very black-and-white mindset caused by repeated trauma; this makes her the opposite of madoka in her eyes, who embodies hope, love, selfishness, etc.

just as odette's outfit is pure white, so is ultimate madoka's attire.

on top of that, when i did some research on black swans, and there is apparently a metaphor called the "black swan theory" that characterizes an event that has a huge outcome, occurs as a surprise, and often used incorrectly when someone wants to or tries to rationalize/make sense of their actions after they know the outcome of them.

in a more broad sense, it can be used to highlight or represent how we have the tendency to underestimate or overlook the possibility of events that are unpredictable and rare.

sounds exactly like devil homura, doesn't it? her taking the power of the law of cycles (or at least part of it) was a huge shock to everyone, including the audience, and the way she tries to (incorrectly) rationalize her actions by proclaiming herself the devil and all that is evil and cruel after she has done it, when that clearly isn’t true.

the term itself comes from the idea that people thought that all swans were white, so when black swans were discovered, it challenged their beliefs.

kinda like how homura believes herself to be/calls herself the devil, even though she is technically a goddess, like ultimate madoka is. referring to/seeing herself as a goddess in any capacity would surely challenge her black-and-white mindset, bc how could she be anything like madoka when she's oh-so-terrible and madoka is anything but?

- crows.

in different cultures, crows symbolically represent transformation, death and the afterlife, fortune telling and the prophecy (such as warnings and good omens), intelligence. even more so, seeing a crow in your dream is apparently a sign of change that is coming into your life.

without saying much else, you can probably see the similarities to homura very easily. not only did she transform into a supposed "devil", but she also had a transformation when she went from moemura, aka her glasses and braids self, to the more cold, closed-off persona and demeanor she portrays.

homura is clearly very intelligent, and she served as the embodiment of a warning and a good omen since her introduction, albeit quite ominously and cryptically. her constant warnings and protection towards madoka and her telling madoka the truth about who she is and what her goals are in ep. 10 are both parts of what directly allows madoka to make the ultimate wish and sacrifice she made in ep. 12 to begin with, besides the fact that she was directly affecting madoka's karmic destiny.

not to mention, madoka had a dream about homura the night before she transferred to her class, and her life promptly changed tremendously right after that.

when the research about crows i researched mentioned death and the afterlife, i instantly thought of homulily's design.

- ravems.

ravens basically say the same thing !! but unlike crows, the research.i found mentions that ravens have symbolic connections to the spiritual and moral world, and be able to move across them as messengers.

ironically enough, homura's clara dolls, which represent the way she sees herself, call themselves the "troupe of the mortal world"... very interesting.

even more so... doesn't homura's hair kind of look like dark bird wings because of how they're parted due to her constantly wearing braids before moving them, especially when it blows in the wind? (i sadly don't have any gifs of that but hopefully, you know what i'm talking abt lol)

look at how even more bird-like and dramatic it becomes when she's devil homura.

before

and after

anyways, that's my analysis !! hope u guys enjoyed and thanks for reading :)

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! I intend to write a main character who is a wheelchair user due to an accident that was fatal to others but not them. I have a problem with deducting the limitations of the disability. Theyre an artist but after the injury they lost some mobility with their hands and since theyre a main character i will give them a romantic interest but im not sure how to make the genitelia function. The hands being limited mobility is important but also their ability to have sex is too. Is this possible or if someone has partial feeling in their hands the genitelia also has problems or can it function fully, would there be other problems regarding sex? How long would the physical therapy period be after the injury? Would they be able to use a regular computer mouse easily or would they need another device? They dont live in an accessible state so what type of chair would they use? Can they transfer from their chair by themselves perhaps? Would they experience chronic pain anywhere in their body or would there be no feeling at all? I want to write the character right so i would appreciate it very much if you answered my ask, thank you

Hey!

It depends on what the accident actually did. I'm gonna assume quadriplegia since that's what it sounds like, but I could be wrong. Since we don't currently have quadriplegic mods I'll just answer for the technical parts but if this is an important character to the story I recommend you get a sensitivity reader if you want to get it right and not just "not medically incorrectly".

Is this possible or if someone has partial feeling in their hands the genitelia also has problems or can it function fully, would there be other problems regarding sex?

Generally speaking, most quadriplegics will have their genitals affected fully or partially depending on the completeness of their injury. However, working 100% as before the injury would be rare.

The one problem that affects all quadriplegics (and some paraplegics) is autonomic dysreflexia, which is essentially a sudden medical emergency caused by a blood pressure rise from too much stimulation. Genital stimulation could potentially cause this and your character would be aware of if they have any knowledge on their condition. Another problem that will affect the extreme majority will be absent/significantly decreased sensation. That doesn't mean that they can't have sex, but they might not feel anything at all there or not feel enough for the entire thing to be pleasurable. For more specific problems, you'd have to consider what set of genitals your character has. People with penises are more likely to cause issues that complicate things a lot (complete erectile dysfunction, inability to ejaculate), than people with a vulva (inability to lubricate). The one exception would be if they have vaginal spasms, which might make penetrative sex physically impossible and/or very painful. Again, this doesn't mean the inability to have sex in general, just requires some changes. Changing focus from genitals to other erogenous zones etc.

You can read about it more here and here. This is also useful but long and uses medical language. Just be aware that it doesn't really factor in trans people and potential differences people on HRT may have.

How long would the physical therapy period be after the injury?

This depends on a lot of things. Depending on what you consider physical therapy, they might do PT indefinitely. SCI is a permanent injury and if it's complete, PT is good to keep it from getting worse (e.g. preventing muscles from contracting), and if it's incomplete then it can also be about potentially restoring more function (how some paralyzed people are eventually able to walk again, it's not a miracle, it's PT). PT can be the in-patient kind that they would probably spend a few months in, out-patient which could be months to a few years, and simple at-home exercises that they could probably do indefinitely (as mentioned), for example passive range of motion exercises.

If the character has specific goals, they will probably go to therapy longer for that specifically. It could be PT, but it could also be occupational therapy. You can read more here or here.

Would they be able to use a regular computer mouse easily or would they need another device?

They probably could. (I recommend this guy's channel for other similar questions like this, he explains them very well).

They dont live in an accessible state so what type of chair would they use?

The type of chair would depend more on their actual needs than the accessibility of the environment. However if you want to specifically factor that in, a light-weight wheelchair would be better so it can be physically moved up the stairs, transported by car, etc.

Can they transfer from their chair by themselves perhaps?

At the start almost definitely no, after some rehab, maybe. If you have your character's level of injury figure out you can search (e.g.) "c6 sci transfer" and see how various people do it. Some can do it by themselves, others need a sliding board, and many can't do it at all. It also depends on factors like weight and age.

Would they experience chronic pain anywhere in their body or would there be no feeling at all?

They would definitely experience at least some chronic pain. It'd be very unusual if they didn't (without being strongly medicated). They'd almost definitely have back pain at the very least.

These two are also not exclusive - you can absolutely have pain in areas without actual sensation (I do). It's because of nerve damage and the nerves firing off incorrectly, so a light touch could be unperceivable, but cause shock-like pain.

I know this wasn't one of the questions, but they could still be an artist as a quadriplegic. They could potentially paint with their mouth or tape a brush to their hand in order to draw.

Hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[tonycries]

Omg tonsil i js had the greatest idea for a fic

University setting- the uni has a bit of a dark past where its known for having mass murders or strings of suspicious deaths every decade like Shadyside in Fear Street. The murders were often covered up, however to preserve the prestigious reputation of the school.

Basically Y/N is part of a popular sorority/frat that’s pretty well known for throwing really good parties and during one such night, a massacre occurs, leaving her as the only survivor, or ‘final girl’. The perpetrators escaped but were identified as there being 6, all of them masked

School has a break for a couple weeks and theres 6 new students once it restarts at the start of the next quarter- all of them supposed ‘transfer students’

Of course, these are Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Choso, Sukuna and Toji.

Turns out a horror movie obsessed student did a ritual to become a final girl by resurrecting the past killers (aformentioned ‘transfer students’) but did it incorrectly, causing her to fall victim as well. Y/N, the new ‘final girl’ has no idea of this and a string of suspicious deaths start happening with one deviation from the past-

They seem to be recreations of the past murders by following the M.O.’s, leading police to incorrectly suspect a copycat killer when really its the resurrected ones.

The resurrected ones in their ‘student’ life are also drawn to Y/N, not realising that the ritual not only brought them back to life, but also bound them to us and so theres some yandere vibes because red flags look green when you’re colorblind 🥴🥴🥴

But YEAH, what do you think? Each of the guys would be based off a slasher and im thinkin-

Gojo and Geto- Scream

Nanami- American Psycho

Toji- Michael Myers

Choso- Jason

Sukuna- Freddy Krueger (Gonna make him a dream demon from the Hei’an era that’s able to take human form.)

WAITTTT WAIT WAIT this would be so perf for spooky season omg 😳☝🏽 NGHHH GOJO AND GETO AS SCREAM OHHH IT'S ALL OVER THE SCREEN....

Hehehe thank yewww sm for sharing ml!! I'll be noting this down 👀

[respectthepetty]

petty, are there any examples of the black x white dynamic where the top is one who’s white-coded for a change?

WAIT! Pause, Anon! I don't think I can answer this question because I believe you are discussing two different things:

Color-coded characters

My wild ass theory

Color-Coded Characters

There are black x white coded characters in TV series and films that represent different concepts throughout the narrative. They could represent that one character is closed-off and guarded (or mean) while the other is more open and honest (aka nice).

Or the black and white could also represent bad versus good.

But whatever the black and white dynamic represents depends on the story since the colors are there to support the narrative and its themes.

However, I think you are blending color-coded characters with my wild ass theory.

My Wild Ass Theory

For the last year or so, I've collected over three hundred promotional images that I believe show an intentional creative decision to present QL actors in a stereotypical seme/uke dynamic through the use of the black x white color dynamic. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, Bonus, Future Pair?

And we often use the seme/uke terms interchangeably with top/bottom (activo/pasivo) AND dom/sub even though all those terms have different meanings, but that's not what this post is about.

This is why I was surprised by Gemini and Fourth's costumes on The Mask Singer Soulmate since I believe it adds weight to my wild ass theory that this black/white (yin yang) dressing is an intentional creative decision to maintain pair branding and uphold seme/uke dynamics.

So it's difficult for me to answer your question since I think you are asking about two different things.

My Answer

You want to know if there is a character who is the bottom but colored black and if there is a character who is the top but colored white.

I can't really answer that because, usually, in a show, the colors aren't being used to tell position preferences. They are being used to tell something about the characters' personalities or highlight the story's themes.

However, Wandee Goodday's OST did intentionally and explicitly state (through colors and actual positions) that the main characters were vers.

The show, which was directed by Golf who is non-binary and trans, also played with the dom/sub dynamic by making the boxer a bunny and the doctor a tiger.

The author of Wandee Goodday is also the same as To Be Continued, and we also saw this dynamic play out in the show with the doctor being a tiger and the actor being the bunny.

And, once again, because we tend to (incorrectly) use dom/sub and top/bottom interchangeably, the tiger could be seen as the top if you are the woman from the Taiwanese BL Unknown.

However, the colors alone won't tell us which character in a TV series is the top and who is the bottom in a relationship, but, sometimes, shows do tell us in other ways and use the colors to highlight it.

Hopefully, this made sense. I just want to make it clear that my wild ass theory does not transfer to characters in TV shows. My wild ass theory is based on the actors and the creative teams behind their branding.

But . . .

I will leave you with the one branded pair in my wild ass theory that consistently plays color games.

[lonestarflight]

Space Shuttle Enterprise being transported back to Palmdale to transfer some of her parts to Challenger (OV-099).

Note: the top photo is often incorrectly dated January 31, 1977. However, she lacks the air speed indicator probe on her nose. This leads me to believe it was from her overland transport back to Palmdale.

Date: October 30, 1979

US Air Force photo: 111220-F-CP999-002

SDASM Archives: 23_0017944, 23_0017945, 23_0017946, 08_00879

[sevastiel]

Chapters 1-8 of Guardian Spiral have been touched up! I'll try and do more when I can.

Most of these changes are pretty small since I want to keep the soul of the chapters the same no matter how I feel about em, but they do fundamentally alter some character details and moments so things fit with the rest of the series a bit better. It wasnt until around ch 8 that I really got a grasp on how I wanted the drifter to be, and it wasn't until, like, ch 24 that I knew where the story was going.

Patch notes below if anyone's curious.

Ch 1 - Fixed some instances of the drifter's name using the wrong capitalization. Fixed some spelling errors, cleaned up grammar, toned down the rapidity of attachment, altered some lore references.

Ch 2 - Fixed some spelling, toned word choices, replaced instance of Lune with Lua, adjusted fight scene flow, added moment of facial visibility to some background characters for better haunting/memory recall for later chapters. Altered spacing between some paragraphs.

Ch 3- Smoothed entry into chapter to make whats happening more clear. Altered Teshin thoughts to better fit established and future referenced canon. Added some foreshadowing. Fixed Arthur's POV referring to the drifter as the drifter, instead of Marty.

Ch 4 - Removed instance of Arthur calling the drifter a friend, replaced with a more in character version. Fixed the drifter not wearing his suit. Fixed Arthur's POV referring to the drifter as the drifter, instead of Marty. Fixed Arthur's POV referring to the drifter as the drifter, instead of Drifter. Removed about thirty extraneous commas. Fixed incorrect Drifter's lack of fork knowledge, due to me now having found forks within duviri. Fixed parent reference to be more in character with what he has/hasn't told people at this time. Altered nearly all the dialogue to fit their characters better lmao.

Ch 5 - Fixed word choices. Removed reference to Drifter having transference bolt implants like the operator, replaced with void metal scarring in reference to techrot. Altered duviri references to better fit canon. Clarified some word choices around Narmer's shit. Added ending sentence to make the chapter title more clear.

Ch 6 - Fixed some descriptors around the drifter's blood. Fixed some word choices for flow. Altered the drifter's inner fears for some clearer foreshadowing. Altered a bit of word choice around transference.

Ch 7 - Smoothed out a few places in the pre-Amir bits. Altered some word choices around interactions for better clarity. Fixed an instance of my dumbass referring to Amir's glasses as goggles. Replaced an instance of the drifter initiating a hug to amir being the initiator, for better coherence to established canon. Altered some word choices around guilt.

Ch 8 - Altered some word choices to better establish time. Removed word choice that incorrectly referenced the drifter being in warframe (pseudo-metal tapping pseudo-metal while hes drumming his fingers on his knee in thought. His gloves might be considered a void-metal but I dont think they're warframe pseudometals. Also his pants are fabric.) Replaced instance of 'ants' with 'pobbers'. (Idk if theyve got ants in the future. Ive seen termite mounds in cetus but never them lil fuckers crawlin around.) Replaced the nonsensical idea that the drifter isnt stealthy with the very much more established canon idea that he has had to be stealthy for the last several hundred years and thus is in his element while being so. Replaced instance of "storming" expletive with "damn". (Storming is a stormlight archive thing) Altered time flow for better following. Fixed some grammatical errors. Fixed instance of child drifter being referred to as he, rather than she. Fixed some of the Indifference's speech for better character accuracy.

[the-east-art]

Hi Thank you for coming to my TED Talk about how I dont like the Grid Method for drawing

I think most people in their life have seen the grid method for copying a piece of art - if you haven’t seen it you can probably at least get an idea of it pretty quick. The grid method for art requires you to break a piece into a series of equal squares, and then transfer those squares onto a blank piece of paper divided into the equal squares of the same ratio. Conceptually this idea is very sound - rather than biting off the entire picture, you focus on each section. Theoretically, if you can make square A1 look like square A”1, and so on and so forth, you should finish with an identical drawing to your picture. I, personally, have a strong distaste for this method. It teaches bad habits - especially to younger and newer artists. (If you are a big fan of this method please read all of my rant first or at least scroll to the end where I will reiterate some of the perceived positives of the method)

The best way to discuss this is to start with a general idea of how we go about drawing something - especially something from a reference! I will try not to riddle this rant with disclaimers, but not everyone will draw using the same or similar methods, but this is the way that I was taught and when discussing with other artists they usually follow similar ideas: When you draw you go from big to little - from general to specific. Getting too specific too early is detrimental. This is an art rant, so let’s chat about this with some pictures. 

Here I have a picture of a square and a circle. Next to it I have my blank piece of paper, and I want to draw it EXACTLY THE SAME on the paper. To do this - whether consciously or not - I will start taking mental ‘measurements’ of various aspects of this composition. How far are these objects from the edges? How much space do they take up? And I will compare these objects to each other - which object is bigger? Where do they connect - is their point of contact halfway up the square or a quarter ways up the square? In the previous questions I am specifically focused on circle in relationship to the square, so it’s worth noting that if my square isn’t placed correctly then everything else will be placed incorrectly as well. Early on in a piece you want to keep lines light, ready to be changed if need be. One of my professors used to say that you wanted to avoid falling in love and getting married to a line as long as possible, because once you fall in love with your lines you will be reluctant to change them. 

Here I have a square and a circle - although maybe these have a little more details going on in them than our previous square and circle. Now maybe this is overwhelming, but remember we want to start from general and then get specific - our process for drawing this should look much the same as our previous painting! Starting with the outline and general shape! This brooch technically isn’t a circle - it’s scalloped on the edges - but before we put that information in we want to make sure we have the placement of it correctly both on the paper and in reference to our other elements - the square. When we feel confident in those elements, we can start SLOWLY adding the other information. A lot of art is about training the eye - we’re looking between the picture and our drawing, trying to see visually what the difference is and correct it. 

Naturally, the more complicated the piece the more complicated this process becomes. If we, for instance, have a person, thats’ a lot more to deal with. We once again want to work outside first. My professor was very big on outlines and shadows first and details slowly after that - so I would likely want to work on the external form, and some lines, and then work in blocky shadows, and fine-tune it from there. Once again let’s ask ourselves what will happen if we just start with the eye - and we spend HOURS drawing the perfect eye - only to realize that it isn’t in the right place in reference to everything else. We’d either have to erase that eye and all our work, rework the entire rest of the drawing, or leave it to look offputting and wrong. When you start art you can get preoccupied with features, when in reality they should be one of the last elements you definitively put in. 

There’s one last part about this that is relevant to my dislike for the grid method, and it’s the idea that when we’re looking at a piece we find commonalities along lines to help guide our art. For instance here we can see that one eye lies horizontally on the same plane and the back of the dogs head matches with a place on the coat - these can help guide us in making sure things are looking right! The grids may help us to see these things, but not necessarily.

Okay, back to the grid method. As I’ve stated earlier the grid method can be used well and the principles behind it are good - our neat squares provide an easier visual way to do the exact same stuff we were doing earlier - how far is the object from the edges and from each other etc etc. However these squares actually can encourage the artist to focus too closely - again either a square at a time or a feature at a time. In addition they narrow the focus of the artist away from the whole - instead of seeing how everything lays on the entire page, you focus on how things are lying in that specific tiny box. Art is usually a dance of in and out - close and far. Taking a step back. The grid method discourages this. 

I say this again aware that many people are extremely successful using this method - young auteurs who draw a giant portrait hyperrealistic. Leyendecker would use a grid to make his smaller drawings bigger (although I would argue he first had an understanding of the previous methods for the intiial drawing, and used the grid more for enlargement of the previous piece). People do this method and do it well… just more people learn bad habits from it that they have to fight against to progress. 

The last thing I want to say is about how the flaw, always, with the grid method is that it has to be something that you can place a grid on - you become confined to the paper and ruler. While the earlier method was taught to be through still life drawings, measuring with a stick, it was clear that this eye training and method was versatile, and could be used for anything you placed in front of me, the grid method becomes a shackle. And I know I know I know, but other artists have found ways around such a block - the perspective frame for painting has been used by many artists over the years, including Vincent Van Gogh - places somewhere to make the process of copying the real world easier - but why let yourself be confined willingly? If you are a big grid believer I would beseech you to AT LEAST try and expand your studies in addition to the grid formula - a healthy diet of many different kind of studies and practices and eye trainings is what we do to hopefully, one day, be able to put the designs in our head down onto paper accurately. 

Additionally, using the grid method provides no room for your to be using your instincts to help. I’ve been reading through ot3’s personal philosophy of composition and I found the line in the introductions where they discuss the idea of following your instincts very important. Part of my philosophy firmly believes that people understand art ephemerally without the need of words first, and overtime the act of art is becoming more aware of the words and phrases of certain concepts, so that we gain the ability to use and manipulate them purposefully. 

Anyway there ya go! Let me know your thoughts!

[tiktaalic]

why is some of the blood bad? how does one draw blood poorly?

The main problems we get are hemolysis (biggest problem), clots, contamination, short samples (second biggest problem), or incorrect tubes.

Hemolysis is a problem for chemistry tests, which are centrifuged to separate serum and red cells. It means your serum which is supposed to be yellow is red because red blood cells have burst. This can happen when someone is a hard stick, which is exactly what it sounds like. Either their veins are deep or their veins move or their veins are faint or small. Which means more digging around in the arm to try to get enough blood. It can also just be bad technique. The wrong needle or the wrong amount of time or the wrong amount of inversions can all give you hemolysis. This is a problem for 2 reasons: some chemistry tests measure color change to determine values, which will be inaccurate if it’s looking for yellow serum and getting red serum. The other is that your red blood cells have things in them, and when they burst, those things will now be in the serum and increase certain values. Incorrectly.

Clots are a problem for cbcs, which are whole blood tests. This means they don’t get spun down, because you Want to see the red blood cells. Same sort of problems - hard stick so you’ve been digging too much, not waiting long enough, wrong needle, transferring between tubes. This is a problem because cbcs measure your platelet count, which are the things that clump together to make clots. If they’ve already all clotted into a clump, platelets are not floating around in your blood anymore, so the machine says your platelets are crazy low. Not true. Your platelets are probably normal, they’ve just all gotten used up. If a cbc is clotted chances are the chem is hemolzyed and vice versa.

Contamination happens mostly with line draws. This is when the patient has some sort of IV with some sort of something being infused into them. Before you draw from a line, you’re supposed to clear it for x amount of time to make sure there’s not residue of what’s being transfused. I’ve gotten samples that are like. Critically high magnesiums and then when I look at it, it’s a line draw. From their magnesium infusion line. So it’s pretty easy to figure out what happened. Or samples that have crazy low values for everything because they’re half blood half infusion.

Short samples are problems for 2 different reasons. One is. I mean if there’s not enough blood there’s not enough blood nothing I can do to make the machine need less blood for tests. Two a lot of tubes have preservatives in them, and there’s a minimum volume of blood that’s supposed to be in them so there’s a correct preservative to blood ratio. If that ratio isn’t correct, then things don’t bind as well, which means things we’re trying to get to bind and stay out of the sample WILL still be in the sample and skewing results.

If you wanted to draw blood badly on purpose you would use the wrong size needle and have the needle near the edge of the vein rather than the middle and leave the tourniquet on too long and physically push blood out of the arm and let your tubes sit without inversion.