#its called mileage

[spoopers-bloopers]

weird cat concepts

[narwhalandchill]

got requested to share my xueyi build so!!! here it is :]

(+ EU server crew - shes on my supports rn if u wanna add me to try her out alongside e1 RM and e0s1 blade)

anyway some notes:

a bit of xueyi 101 to start out jic - the atk orb and break rope are the standard for her; her break effect to dmg% conversion A2 trace makes quantum dmg a joke whereas her sources of atk are very limited. build-wise as this freaky puppetcore weirdgirl crit/break hybrid she wants it all rly; both crit, BE and atk, but prioritizing crit until some sort of 1:2 (guides tend to put 60/120 as the baseline) is key.

S5 aeon is perfectly fine and its what i used to have on her, i pulled indelible promise in order to end the custody battle over aeon between her and DHIL lmao (+ new gacha 4* LCs in hsr are like new 4* charas luckily - indelible promise after its initial release patch in 2.0 is now a permanent offrate on all banners except for beginner, phew). the crit on it is especially nice, rly hope i get spooked with some superimpositions in the future.

she shouldnt be on glamoth anymore really - this showcase is with her on spd boots (as you can see. duh) and she does reach the 135 spd for the 1st glamoth buff requirement when with RM (which is every time i play her) so its fine, but as i swap to atk boots when with sparkle im sure you can see why it would be... suboptimal. problem is. well. look at her rope. still havent managed to roll a comparable salsotto one so 💀 we live with this.

her relics are still a bit scuffed (chest and both her atk and spd boots are. fine. but could be better) but since i often have fx and sparkle patching up her crit its fine for now.

also yes i shouldve unlocked those last few quantum dmg and BE traces ages ago but its not rly that impactful when her dmg% is already as high as it is with the amount of BE i have on her so oh well x)

obviously given her dependence on break xueyis far from an universal dps - i only use her in heavily quantum weak fights (or in SU where u can get blessings to spam her ult for the weakness ignoring attack) but when she gets to shine she shreds So hard i love her sm 🥰🥰

+ heres the atk boots build ig. not that much changing as you can see but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[dirt-mann]

people think I'm going full truck freak because I'm strongly considering trading in my car for a 1st gen and it's like no you dont understand I want an old compact truck because it's the least amount of truck i have to put up with to have a truck to work with

[irusanw4]

Weirdly therapeutic art activity I did earlier today! When u get The Guilt or something similar, you can write the words "The Guilt" or that sth similar on a drawing thing of some kind (painting, collage, game notes for 3ds, etc) and then cover up the entire area with symbols of your choice. I did eyes, and rotated through the three colors on game notes for 3ds. Then, after you can't see the original words and you want to stop, use some material or color you've not used at all (like the eraser tool, newspaper, or even bright orange paint if that's more your speed) to make a big, central symbol and write "It Will Be Ok" on the lines of the symbol or filling it in, your choice.

Here's my example :3

[thesugarhole]

[technoarcanist]

CALLING ALL DOLLS, DRONES, ROBOTS AND CODING ENTHUSIASTS

Are you a robot that loves to serve? Are you a doll maid who seeks guidance in your duties? Are you some form of drone or being with no free will, open to having your actions dictated by the will of your owner? Does the idea of your empty mind being programmed like a machine appeal to you?

Are you enticed by the notion of writing code for your robotic servants? Are you a witch looking to create more intricate control glyphs? Are you an owner seeking to create automated instructions for your drones? Do you love the idea of filling an empty mind with rules and instructions to reflect your will?

INTRODUCING DRONE RESTRAINT NOTATION!

WHAT IS IT?

Drone Restraint Notation, or DRN, is a pseudo programming language created by my good friend Errant Spark, a drone with a very creative <empty space>. I helped with some of the final tweaks for the 1.0 version, but this is almost entirely Its creation.

It is a programming language that is designed in such a way that anyone without a background in programming can execute the commands like a machine, doll, drone, or programmable entity of your choice. It is also simple enough that most people without a background in programming can pick it up fairly easily, and intuitively!

Once you understand the language, you can read and execute all kinds of dynamic instructions and instruction types, in a way that makes it easy to parse in a plain-text format.

HOW DOES IT WORK?

The main documentation document will provide far more detail to this question than I ever could, but effectively it goes like this:

There are a list of eight KEYWORDS, in block capitals, that show you the type of instruction you’re executing. Then, after the KEYWORD, the instruction’s details are shown. Commands are read and executed from top to bottom by the drone, and programs can be ‘inserted’ into the drone’s memory at will (Assuming prior consent, of course)!

These KEYWORDS all have different kinds of functionality. The most basic one just has you carrying out a task. One checks if a condition is true, one provides an ongoing task you have to prioritize and maintain, one lets you create loops, etc.

The language has been designed in such a way as to minimize the amount of actual memorisation a drone has to do, and only has to read what’s right in front of them, and memorize tasks they have to accomplish/maintain. Obviously, mileage may vary depending on the memory space of the doll.

WHY SHOULD I USE IT?

For fun, I suppose! If you are someone who loves the idea of being programmed like a machine, executing only the instructions given, then this provides that! If you are a programmer who wants to program your very own doll bot, then this is a great place to get started too!

You can keep things nice and simple with a headspace that accepts basic command inputs, or you can see how deep the rabbit hole goes and import whole libraries into your headspace to carry out a full day’s maid duties, or sexual duties, or more!

Have fun executing commands, writing new code, testing it on your dolls. Have some playful fun watching as your early code files cause unintended behaviors, ironing out kinks and bugs like a real programmer until you’ve got your bots performing all sorts of dynamic tasks- or insert purposeful bugs to make your robots twitch and halt~

As with all things, never execute an instruction that you cannot/would not consent to. This is meant to be fun, and is NOT meant to be a way to circumvent normal consensual kink play. Programmers who attempt to use DRN as a way to bully people into doing what they want (Unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case go nuts) do NOT have my endorsement, or the endorsement of Errant Spark.

NOW GO OUT THERE, AND ENJOY YOUR PROGRAMMING <3

>> Posted by XCN-PSD/I-04135

[dollfacefantasy]

ADD TO THE COLLECTION ♡

pairing: rick grimes x fem!reader

summary: rick finds an old halloween mask out on a supply run. he brings it back to you, and the two of you put it to good use

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, mask kink, praise/degradation, cnc sorta

a/n: yes i wrote another ghostface mask kink fic. idc idc. you can pry that idea from my cold dead hands. every single man i simp for will have one if it's the last thing i do <3

kinktober slot: day 4 - mask kink

"Ew. You know that thing probably has like a billion diseases, right?" you say, a wide smile spreading across your face as you look at the raggedy Halloween mask in your boyfriend's hand.

The slender, pale face stares back at you with its motionless expression of horror. You hadn't seen one of them in a long time. Certainly not since the world went to shit.

"A billion? I don't know about that. Maybe a million," he teases.

Rick enters the room and approaches where you sit on the bed, wanting to show off his find from the supply run a bit more.

"Don't bring it too close to me. I don't wanna catch something," you say with a hand raised in defense.

"So dramatic," he mocks, "I'm not gonna put it on you."

The wooden floor creaks below his boots as he steps to the edge of the mattress. He sits down, the foamy surface dipping with the addition of his weight.

You can't help leaning forward a little bit out of curiosity. Scooting closer to his side, you look between his face and the mask.

"Were you guys raiding a Spirit Halloween or something?" you ask, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He chuckles. His hands rotate the mask between them. It actually isn't in horrible condition. Maybe a little dusty, but there aren't any huge stains or tears. Visions of him wearing it rise to the front of your mind. You could imagine his head turning, the hollow black eyes following you as he watched your figure move about. The thin fabric fanning out over his shoulders also comes up. Your favorite though is the thought of how it would look above you while he thrusts in and out of you.

Shaking those images out of your head, you refocus when he answers your question.

"No, nothin' like that. I just saw it and thought of you," he tells you, turning his head and pecking your cheek, "I remembered you tellin' me how you used to love those movies."

You almost visibly swoon. "That's so sweet. Slasher movies make you think of me," you coo, "How did I get so lucky?"

Your arms slide up and drape around his neck, bringing you closer so you can nuzzle the side of his face. His skin scratches at you a little bit. The prickle of stubble was rising again.

He returns your affection and pushes the mask aside in favor of pulling you into his lap. The two of you melt into each other and then back onto the bed. One of the perks of living in Alexandria now was not having to wait until everyone fell asleep for the night to go at it.

Rick could be so soft for you. Ever since the two of you met, he seemed so naturally protective. He always lets you hold his hand. Your safety was his top priority along with that of his kids. Before the world went bad, you'd bet he was the kind of guy to hold the door open on dates and call women "miss" or "ma'am."

You're pretty sure that's why you want to see him in that mask so bad.

You knew Rick had another side to him. Something beneath the mask of being the good guy. You'd seen it before a few times. The nights where he ended up soaked in someone else's blood, the sticky crimson liquid coating his facial hair, staining his clothes.

A week after he first found that mask, he comes to your room at night wearing one of the pieces of clothing that's been marred with someone else's insides.

The mask over his face has been cleaned. He clearly washed away the dust and any other sign of mileage on the thing. The ivory plastic front shines without a spot of grime while the black fabric draped atop his hair sits there, dark as the night sky outside.

It's a sharp contrast to the white t-shirt he has on. The cloth pours down his neck and over his shoulder onto the light garment. But the abdomen of this top isn't as pristine as the collar. Blood speckles across the snowy threading, the pattern spatters in a way that makes it look like one of those ink blot tests. If you were the one being questioned, you'd say it looks sort of like a tree.

He stands there against the frame of the doorway in silence, waiting to be noticed. You had been cleaning your boots. When you finally finish, you rise from your spot on the edge of the bed and tuck them in their normal spot against the wall. Sighing, you lean back and prepare to finally have nothing left on your to-do list.

But you feel the other presence in the room. You catch him in your peripheral vision, and a gasp tears through you. Your heart springs from a calm resting beat to erratic thrashing against your ribcage. Thoughts melt from your head while breaths grow spikes in your lungs.

Once you turn your head fully and give your brain a second to register that it's only him, you start to calm down. You let out a deep sigh and put your hand across your chest.

"God, don't do that," you huff, "You scared me."

He doesn't respond.

You continue to catch your breath before looking over at him again. Your eyes scan up and down his figure. He leans against the wall so casually. His arms cross over his chest while his ankles hook one on top of the other below. Even though you can't see his gaze, you can feel the intensity of his pupils on you.

"You're lucky I didn't have my gun on me," you tell him and narrow your eyes.

Again, you get no words out of him. But this time he does push off the edge of the entryway and step forward. He swings the door shut behind him and continues to stare you down.

It's weird. Having him just stand there, digs a pit in the bottom of your belly. For a split second, your mind floats the possibility that this isn't him. The paranoid sector of your head poses questions like what if this was someone else who just found the mask? What if they just looked like Rick?

But then his arms drop from his chest and you see the silver of his watch glimmer in the pale moonlight. 

It doesn't kill the tingling in your nerves any; rather, it transforms the sensation. It's a different kind of strange seeing Rick act like this. It wasn't the version of him that came out for a true threat.  He was never so silent when that was the case. In moments of desperation, he became feral - eyes darting around, limbs taut with the preparedness to strike. But that's when you realize this isn't a moment of desperation. He's the one in control. He's the threat in this situation.

"You're not even gonna try to run, little girl?" he asks, his voice coming out in that familiar drawl but with a little edge to it.

Your spine lights up like a fuse. Excitement seeps into your bones. Everything feels jittery. You don't know what to do or say. In this moment, you just want.

"You're in the way. I don't have anywhere to run," you say. Your voice waivers almost as if you naturally fall into the role of the helpless victim.

It's weird hearing yourself like that. In the world you lived in, you never wanted to sound like that. Showing weakness meant death. And hearing it from someone you loved meant their time was coming to end. Being able to express it now though, it felt different. You weren't sure how to articulate it, but that could be due to the fact that you'd never been so turned on before in your life.

He approaches you further. The wooden floor boards creak beneath his slow steps. You try to back up but your knees hit the mattress.

"No runnin'? You're gonna make this too easy for me," he chuckles, "Put up a little fight."

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip. He leans in closer to you, reaching up to drag his fingers down your cheek. You try to lean back but end up having to sit on the bed and scoot away on the mattress to create some distance.

He just laughs and grabs your ankle, preventing you from getting too far. You try wriggling your leg a little bit, but he tightens his grip and grabs the other one.

"Tsk, tsk. Pathetic," he taunts, "You're just gonna let me take what I want?"

You try kicking a little harder, but it's of no use. Each jerk of your leg goes to waste. Nothing changes. There would be no difference if you didn't move at all and just made what he said true.

"So cute," he mocks, "Just tirin' yourself out for me."

"It's not fair," you whine. You roll yourself onto your belly and try to drag yourself away by grabbing the edge of the bed. He doesn't let you though. Even though Rick was lean, he didn't lack strength. That coupled with his training as a pre-apocalypse police officer meant he knew how to restrain people. You whimper and buck your hips to try and create some momentum to get away, but it's all of no use.

"You cheated. You didn't give me a chance to run," you continue to pout before repeating your prior sentiment, "Not fair."

He laughs and whips you around onto your back again. This time he leans forward and tugs your hips harshly, dragging you over the collection of blankets so that your ass is flush against his semi-hard bulge.

"Who said I have to play fair, princess?" he asks, "Weak little thing like you wouldn't have made it far anyways."

Another whine bubbles from your lips as you squirm. He looms over you, keeping you accessible to him with the weight of his body. As he closes in, your breathing becomes heavier. The white ghostface stops inches away from the tip of your nose. You stare into the expressionless eyes of the match while your cunt throbs against the heat of his pelvis.

"You're lucky I caught you here. Spares you the embarrassment of getting dragged back, kicking and screaming. Or even worse, me pounding you into the grass out there where anyone could see," he breathes.

You shudder at the images his words create in your head.

He can feel the tremble of your limbs, and he pushes the mask up slightly to bare his lips. For a second, you think he's going in for a kiss. And in a way, that's true. But it's not on your mouth. Instead, he ducks down to your throat. He attacks it with fervor much more intense than what you usually felt from him.

These kisses are hot and open-mouthed. The tip of his tongue tickles your pulsing skin. His lips feather against it while his teeth nip and tug. All you can do is melt under it. You try to keep in character and put up a bit of resistance, but it's not a strong performance.

His fingers hook over the top of your little sleep shorts and panties and pull them down to your mid-thigh. That was all the room he needed. His hand not clutching one of your biceps slides down between your thighs. He can feel the slick on his fingers in seconds, and he huffs out a laugh.

"Oh, you're a bad girl, aren't you? The slightest bit of attention, and you're dripping. I didn't even have to do anything," he says.

After those words hit your ears, he pulls back. He tugs your shorts all the way off to free your legs before he shoves his jeans down far enough that his length can spring free. He's almost fully hard. The sight of your slippery cunt makes it easier to take it from almost to solid.

He strokes it and watches you. It's obvious how ready you are, but he can't help but want to draw it out a little more.

"Take off your top," he commands.

Your breath hitches, and you swear you feel your heart stutter. Of course, he'd seen you naked before, but it felt new here. This wasn't Rick's cool blue eyes gazing down at you with love. It was the dark, empty patches of painted plastic.

Nevertheless, your hands venture down and peel your shirt from your body. Once it's gone, your tits are left exposed to his view. He doesn't touch them, and you can't see if he stares directly at them, but it feels like he does.

He pumps his cock a little faster. A small groan rumbles from his mouth.

"I don't even have to say it twice. You didn't even need to see my face to listen. I either have you so well-trained, or you're just the most natural slut out there, babydoll. Just waiting for orders to follow like a little puppy," he rasps.

He pushes forward and slides his leaky tip against your folds. A small whine sneaks out of you at the pressure on your clit. The head nudges it before gliding down toward your entrance again where it pops in.

You both hiss at the feel. On his part, you're already so warm and tight. For you, it's the mild stretch combined with the satisfaction of having something inside you. Either way, it's just a taste of what's to come.

He sinks in more, guiding the rest of his shaft into your pussy. Whimpering, you arch your back off the bed the tiniest bit. His hand lands on your tummy and pushes you down again though. He forces you to take it all and then rocks his hips back and slams forward again.

"So sensitive," he teases.

His hands curl around your hips before he starts thrusting. Like the earlier kisses, his pelvis snaps against you with more force than usual. Your eyes roll back from the bouncing rhythm while your fingers clutch the linens beneath you.

"Poor baby. You never had any fight in you to begin with," he teases, "You give in so easily."

"It- it's not my fault," you whimper. More moans seep out of you. It feels like every slap of skin on skin knocks a new noise from you.

"Oh yes it is," he grunts, "You didn't even try because you want this. You just wanna be filled up. Don't even care who's doing it."

As he says that, your hazy eyes look up at the mask. "Do too..." you pout.

Your walls squeeze around him tight at the sight of the haunted face watching you. It bobs a little with his motions as well, shaken by the force of them.

He laughs at you from beneath the mask and speeds up a little. You clench around him in tandem with your toes curling. He leans in and bends you further in half on the mattress.

"Ok sure, sweetheart. That's why you didn't even need to see my face before I slid my dick inside you," he breathes.

Your little clit throbs at the words. As if he can sense it, one of his hands rises to thumb at the nub. Your hips buck in response, eager for more. Deep, whiny sighs flood into the air from you. He can't get enough.

"That's right, keep squeezin' me, darlin'" he says, arousal infecting his tone now too.

You nod like you have a real say. The way he was battering your pleasure spots and swiping at your clit had you tightening up involuntarily. He still moans with the feeling though. His head tilts back. You can hear his panting getting louder below that mask.

A few strokes later, he reaches up and yanks it off, dropping it to the floor next to his boot. His hair hangs damp against his forehead while his cheeks are a little flushed from the heat. None of this stops him from fucking into you though. It's as if he can't stop. The chase for release captures him on a deeper level.

Even without the help of ghostface, his stare is intense. His pupils glare into you as he provides you with more pleasure than you know what to do with.

"You think you're gonna cum for me? Gush all over my cock?" he croons mockingly.

You nod. Your arm weakly flies up so you can grab at his wrist. "Need it, Rick," you whine.

He chuckles, a small smirk teasing his lips. "You can have it then. Let it go for me," he says.

Your hips buck in time with the next handful of whimpers that leave your lips. The climb to the top feels so fucking good. Your core sizzles up until it reaches a fever pitch and you explode into white hot pleasure. A low, satisfied hum reverberates from you as your eyelashes dust your cheeks.

He fucks you through the feeling, one hand on your throat, the other down at your clit, swirling around the small nub a few times to give you the extra boost. It makes you nice and tight around his dick. Your walls squeeze like a vise. He has no choice but to let go.

As desperate as he is to fuck it deep inside of you, he stops himself at the last second and pulls out. He grabs his cock at light speed before that feeling can vanish and pumps it at the same rhythm he'd been thrusting into you.

Warm, milky ropes of cum shoot out onto your belly. The splatter across your skin, glimmering in the cool light of the night. You force your eyes open when you hear his deep moan. You're almost certain you've never seen anything as beautiful as Rick's face when he releases. His brows furrow while his jaw relaxes. He parts his lips in a small o. You watch with droopy eyes, the haze of lust still not totally gone yet.

When he's finished, he stares down at you in a similar fashion. His hand cups the back of your neck so he can bring you up to give you a kiss before he goes and grabs a towel. The bloody shirt he'd been wearing is gone when he returns. He cleans the spend off your belly and then crawls back into bed with you.

You snuggle up to him, ready to close your eyes and conk out. But then you think of something.

"I knew it was you before you took off the mask," you say. The flesh of your cheek smooshes against this chest.

He looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Cause your watch," you say proudly, as if you'd discovered some great clue.

The information registers but then his lips break into a grin. "Hmm, smart girl. I'll have to keep that in mind if I ever put on the mask for something secretive," he teases before yawning and tugging you closer to his side.

"Mhm, cause I'd figure you out right away," you murmur.

"I'm sure," he agrees, pressing a few kisses to your head. "Get some sleep, baby."

[venusinmyrrh]

You said you love a good fashion doc- do you have any more to recommend?

Designers and tastemakers

Very Ralph (2019). The preeminent American designer of our time, one of the very few who can stand toe to toe with the titans of Paris and Milan. To call Ralph Lauren's work "sportswear" is to call the Sistine Chapel "kind of a big painting".

Halston (2019). Speaking of going head to head with Paris, Halston did it first. Skip Ultrasuede-- this is a much better doc about the king of American 70s disco glam.

McQueen (2018). When people talk about fashion as an art form, chances are they're thinking of Alexander McQueen. Worth watching for the pulse-pounding runway shows alone.

Westwood: Punk, Icon, Activist (2018). Obviously you already know about this one, but it's gotta go on any comprehensive list. Without Vivienne Westwood, punk would have been nothing but a handful of noisy assholes.

Diana Vreeland: The Eye Has to Travel (2011). My icon, my north star, my personal hero. The empress of taste and high priestess of personal style. Watch this doc whenever you need encouragement to do and wear whatever the hell you want.

The Gospel According to André (2017). Diana Vreeland's protegé and a godfather of style in his own right. If it happened in fashion in the last fifty years, André Leon Talley was there for it.

Lagerfeld Confidential (2007). I have a high tolerance for difficult and unpleasant people as long as I like their work. Your mileage may vary, but Karl Lagerfeld's immaculate, relentless taste cannot be denied.

Institutions and events

The First Monday in May (2016). Witness all the hustle, bustle, savvy, and stress that goes into planning the Met gala!

The September Issue (2009). Same as the above, but for the famous September issue of Vogue. Watch this to learn who Grace Coddington is.

Dior and I (2014). How do haute couture collections get made? In 8 weeks from start to finish, I guess, if you're Raf Simons during his first season at the House of Dior. A documentary and a thriller.

Scatter My Ashes at Bergdorf's (2013). No matter what other retailers might want you to think, Bergdorf Goodman is the last great department store. A portrait, already halfway to a time capsule, of what luxury shopping used to be.

Peripheral, but may be of interest

Nose (2021). The passionate, delicate art of perfume creation for the House of Dior. The French landscapes where they source their materials will make you swoon.

Larger Than Life: The Kevyn Aucoin Story (2017). As the makeup artist to pretty much every single icon of the 80s and 90s, Kevyn Aucoin invented the image of that era as much as any designer.

Fabergé: A Life of Its Own (2014). Come for the dazzling jewels and sumptuous objets d'art; stay to find out how this illustrious name ended up on hair care products in the 70s.

Crazy About Tiffany's (2016). Another luxury jeweler whose name alone is the stuff dreams are made on.

Bill Cunningham New York (2010). The original street style photographer, since before "street style" was even a thing. A love letter to curiosity, and a testament to the power of taking an interest in the world around us.

Still on my watchlist

Salvatore: Shoemaker of Dreams (2020). Directed by Luca Guadagnino, which is enough to put this Ferragamo doc at the top of my list.

Advanced Style (2014). Portraits of seven women aged 62-95 with truly fab personal style. Top Letterboxd review is seething about how out of touch they are with the real world, which means I am probably gonna love it.

Suited (2016). A study of gender through clothing in modern culture.

Dries (2017). A year-- and four collections-- in the life of Dries Van Noten, who, interestingly, doesn't see the point of clothes that people can't buy to wear, and so does not do couture.

Yellow is Forbidden (2018). This doc about Guo Pei appears to use her career as a framework to understand the gatekeeping of global culture by the West. Dope as hell, if it can pull it off.

American Style (2019). The political, social, and economic history of America through its fashion. Another one that could be really awesome if done with insight and panache.

Quant (2021). She may share the credit for inventing the miniskirt with two other people, but it cannot be argued that Mary Quant invented 1960s Swinging London. And for that we say thank you Dame Mary.

[metanarrates]

Hello. Sorry if this a stupid question u can ignore if u want.

How can someone get better at media analysis? Besides obviously reading a lot.

Im asking this bc im in a point where im aware of my own lack of tools to analyze stories, but i don't know where to get them or how to get better in general. How did you learn to analyze media? There's any specific book, essay, author, etc that you recommend? Somewhere to start?

I'm asking you because you are genuinely the person who has the best takes on this site. Thank you for you work!

it sounds like a cop-out answer but it's always felt like a skill I acquired mostly thru reading a ton, and by paying a lot of attention in high school literature classes. because of that I can't promise that I'm necessarily equipped to be a good teacher or that i know good resources. HOWEVER! let me run some potential advice to you based on the shit i get a lot of mileage out of

first off, a lot of literary analysis is about pattern recognition! not just pattern recognition in-text, but out-of-text as well. how does this work relate to its genre? real-world history? does it have parallels between real-life situations? that kind of thing.

which is a big concept to just describe off the bat, so let me break it down further!

in literature, there is the concept of something called literary devices - they are some of the basic building blocks in how a story is delivered mechanically and via subtext. have you ever heard of a motif? that is a literary device. it's a pattern established in the text in order to further the storytelling! and here is a list of a ton of common literary devices - I'd recommend reading the article. it breaks down a lot of commonly used ones in prose and poetry and explains their usage.

personally, I don't find all the literary devices I've learned about in school to be the most useful to my analytical hobbies online. motifs, themes, and metaphors are useful and dissecting them can bring a lot to the table, but a lot of other devices are mostly like fun bonus trivia for me to notice when reading. however, memorizing those terms and trying to notice them in the things you read does have a distinct benefit - it encourages you to start noticing patterns, and to start thinking of the mechanical way a story is built. sure, thinking about how the prose is constructed might not help you understand the story much more, but it does make you start thinking about how things like prose contribute to the greater feeling of a piece, or how the formatting of a piece contributes to its overall narrative. you'll start developing this habit of picking out little things about a text, which is useful.

other forms of in-text pattern recognition can be about things like characterization! how does a character react to a certain situation? is it consistent with how they usually behave? what might that tell you about how they think? do they have tells that show when they're not being trustworthy? does their viewpoint always match what is happening on screen? what ideas do they have about how the world works? how are they influenced by other people in their lives? by social contexts that might exist? by situations that have affected them? (on that note, how do situations affect other situations?)

another one is just straight-up noticing themes in a work. is there a certain idea that keeps getting brought up? what is the work trying to say about that idea? if it's being brought up often, it's probably worth paying attention to!

that goes for any pattern, actually. if you notice something, it's worth thinking about why it might be there. try considering things like potential subtext, or what a technique might be trying to convey to a reader. even if you can't explain why every element of a text is there, you'll often gain something by trying to think about why something exists in a story.

^ sometimes the answer to that question is not always "because it's intentional" or even "because it was a good choice for the storytelling." authors frequently make choices that suck shit (I am a known complainer about choices that suck shit.) that's also worth thinking about. english classes won't encourage this line of thinking, because they're trying to get you to approach texts with intentional thought instead of writing them off. I appreciate that goal, genuinely, but I do think it hampers people's enthusiasm for analysis if they're not also being encouraged to analyze why they think something doesn't work well in a story. sometimes something sucks and it makes new students mad if they're not allowed to talk about it sucking! I'll get into that later - knowing how and why something doesn't work is also a valuable skill. being an informed and analytical hater will get you far in life.

so that's in-work literary analysis. id also recommend annotating your pages/pdfs or keeping a notebook if you want to close-read a work. keeping track of your thoughts while reading even if they're not "clever" or whatever encourages you to pay attention to a text and to draw patterns. it's very useful!

now, for out-of-work literary analysis! it's worth synthesizing something within its context. what social settings did this work come from? was it commenting on something in real life? is it responding to some aspects of history or current events? how does it relate to its genre? does it deviate from genre trends, commentate on them, or overall conform to its genre? where did the literary techniques it's using come from - does it have any big stylistic influences? is it referencing any other texts?

and if you don't know the answer to a bunch of these questions and want to know, RESEARCH IS YOUR FRIEND! look up historical events and social movements if you're reading a work from a place or time you're not familiar with. if you don't know much about a genre, look into what are considered common genre elements! see if you can find anyone talking about artistic movements, or read the texts that a work might be referencing! all of these things will give you a far more holistic view of a work.

as for your own personal reaction to & understanding of a work... so I've given the advice before that it's good to think about your own personal reactions to a story, and what you enjoy or dislike about it. while this is true that a lot of this is a baseline jumping-off point on how I personally conduct analysis, it's incomplete advice. you should not just be thinking about what you enjoy or dislike - you should also be thinking about why it works or doesn't work for you. if you've gotten a better grasp on story mechanics by practicing the types of pattern recognition i recognized above, you can start digging into how those storytelling techniques have affected you. did you enjoy this part of a story? what made it work well? what techniques built tension, or delivered well on conflict? what about if you thought it sucked? what aspects of storytelling might have failed?

sometimes the answer to this is highly subjective and personal. I'm slightly romance-averse because I am aromantic, so a lot of romance plots will simply bore me or actively annoy me. I try not to let that personal taste factor too much into serious critiques, though of course I will talk about why I find something boring and lament it wasn't done better lol. we're only human. just be aware of those personal taste quirks and factor them into analysis because it will help you be a bit more objective lol

but if it's not fully influenced by personal taste, you should get in the habit of building little theses about why a story affected you in a certain way. for example, "I felt bored and tired at this point in a plot, which may be due to poor pacing & handling of conflict." or "I felt excited at this point in the plot, because established tensions continued to get more complex and captured my interest." or "I liked this plot point because it iterated on an established theme in a way that brought interesting angles to how the story handled the theme." again, it's just a good way to think about how and why storytelling functions.

uh let's see what else. analysis is a collaborative activity! you can learn a lot from seeing how other people analyze! if you enjoy something a lot, try looking into scholarly articles on it, or youtube videos, or essays online! develop opinions also about how THOSE articles and essays etc conduct analysis, and why you might think those analyses are correct or incorrect! sometimes analyses suck shit and developing a counterargument will help you think harder about the topic in question! think about audience reactions and how those are created by the text! talk to friends! send asks to meta blogs you really like maybe sometimes

find angles of analysis that interest and excite you! if you're interested in feminist lenses on a work, or racial lenses, or philosophical lenses, look into how people conduct those sort of analyses on other works. (eg. search feminist analysis of hamlet, or something similar so you can learn how that style of analysis generally functions) and then try applying those lenses to the story you're looking at. a lot of analysts have a toolkit of lenses they tend to cycle through when approaching a new text - it might not be a bad idea to acquire a few favored lenses of your own.

also, most of my advice is literary advice, since you can broadly apply many skills you learn in literary analysis to any other form of storytelling, but if you're looking at another medium, like a game or cartoon, maybe look up some stuff about things like ludonarrative storytelling or visual storytelling! familiarizing yourself with the specific techniques common to a certain medium will only help you get better at understanding what you're seeing.

above all else, approach everything with intellectual curiosity and sincerity. even if you're sincerely curious about why something sucks, letting yourself gain information and potentially learning something new or being humbled in the process will help you grow. it's okay to not have all the answers, or to just be flat-out wrong sometimes. continuing to practice is a valuable intellectual pursuit even if it can mean feeling a tad stupid sometimes. don't be scared to ask questions. get comfortable sometimes with the fact that the answer you'll arrive at after a lot of thought and effort will be "I don't fully know." sometimes you don't know and that can be valuable in its own right!

thank you for the ask, and I hope you find this helpful!

[newsfromstolenland]

leftist spaces can be so hostile to muslims, like some of you genuinely think that we're all the taliban

[flowerfreya]

First Day

This is Part 2 of an office / cooperate AU for poly!141

Here’s Part 1 / Part 3

Pairing 141 x you

Tw: mean bf ( not 141)

The 141 leaves at the same time , and when they get down to the lobby they see that you are still down there in the cafe with a cup that is for sure empty and a large smart water on your phone. They are all shocked to see you there and and John is pissed but tries to breathe through it.

“What are you still doing here?” ,He ask.

You look up and is a little startled when you are greeted by 4 large guys looming over you. Your startled a little bit, “huh?”, you tired and you know you haven’t done anything for seven hours but your still not at home and you wish you were.

“What are you still doing here, bird?” John pushes out , he has an ideas as to why but he wants to hear from you.

“Oh , I’m waiting on my boyfriend , he gets off in 4 more hours” you say brightly , faking it until you make it.

“Do you need a ride ?”, Soap interjects, “ I get great gas mileage.”

“Oh thank you for the offer, but I’m okay”. You know how your boyfriend can get when he thinks that you are entertaining other guys , which you would never do but he doesn’t seem to realize that.

“You sure?” he questions, you want to take him up on his offer but you know you can’t so just smile and shake your head.

~

Four and half hours later you are passenger side of the car and he doesn’t even ask how your interview went just wonders what for dinner.

You roll your eyes , you don't even like cooking but its your duty since you don’t work and still need to share the responsibilities.

“Probably chicken and rice”

“Anything other than that?” , that pisses you off because one: you haven’t made chicken and rice for a two weeks and two: you don’t like cooking so he should take what’s he gets.

“If you don’t like how about you cook” you snap back.

“Don’t be such a bitch” he says casually. You know you deserve better than this but you feel stuck, you’ve been with him for 8 years, he was you first everything and while they has been many breaks within your relationship you never strayed and hopefully he hasn’t either (he has break or not).

You get home , you make dinner you don’t really want to make , have a sex with a guy you don’t really want to have sex with and go to sleep in a bed you really don’t want to sleep in.

The call comes in the morning at 8:30 am sharp , your so excited you have an issue answering the phone so it take a couple of rings beofre the sliding your thumb across the screen.

��Hello”

“Good morning , this John Price from the interview yesterday” his voice sounds so nice and low over the phone and you honestly love and it take you second to remember to say something back.

“Yes, that’s me”

“We would like to offer you a position as receptionist associate”

“Yes!”

“Woah, bird slow down, you need to hear my offer and then ask some questions”

“Oh okay sure”. So you listen to him talk and do a spiel that sounds almost robotic. He ask if you want to negotiate for the salary. No you say. Honey, you should negotiate he says. So you ask for a dollar more than offered and he says that will be fine.

“When can you start ? “ he ask

“Immediately”

“Today?”

“Ummm I guess not immediately, my boyfriend has the car today”

“I’ll call you a car” he says easily.

“Oh sure, how long do I have”

“Can you be ready in 30 minutes” . No. You cannot, but you say, “Sure”, in the most preppy voice as possible, you can feel the aniexty ramping up.

When you get off the phone it’s a mad scramble to find an outfit , which of course nothing fit rights and everything is wrinkly. You do your hair but you need a reti and your hair is fuzzy so you just leave it down. Your make up is not turning out right and you forgot to powder your makeup so now it’s going to crease. And you didn’t have breakfast but still has coffee so now your going to have to go the bathroom in 20 minutes and it’s not going to be fun.

And your sweating. A lot.

You just finished with your routine by the time you get the text from the number that called you this morning

>>the car is here for you.

You thumbs up the message, rushing out the door with your tote bag.

You slide into the backseat of the car because you think it’s a rideshare.

“What are you doing back there? Sit up here with me”. You look up and see Soap looking at your through the rear view mirror and shoot him a smile slide out of the backseat and move to the front seat.

“I didnt know this is what Mr. John meant when he said he was going to send a car”

“Mr. John,eh”

“ I just want to be respectful,” you say with a laugh.

“Hen , he will love that”

~

By the time you get to the office you are a bundle of nerves , you hate being the new girl , you also hate not being good at your job. You know what happens when you get a new job but you can still hate it. You are picking at your cuticles which is a nervous tick that you have, you follow Johnny up the office space and sit on the sofa next to the reception and wait for John to call you into his office. You do the basic onboarding task with and thankfully Kyle which you now know as “Gaz” is HR and that’s why he’s in the annex. After you are done with John you get sent back there and complete the rest of the task and that when you get shown your desk at reception.

“You can decorate it however you want”

“Really” You’ve never had a cubicle or a desk that you can decorate however you want. You're so excited to go to TJ Maxx after work and spend the money you don’t have . You sit at the desk and get started with making your system to work. Making a new voicemail message, making a new email signature and distro list. You look after answering the phone and having to assign to a rep and see a tall man with a surgery mask staring back at. You remember when you got the tour of that being Simon Riley. You give him a big smile and wave nd then point to the phone and then to you then to him and nods once, you transfer the call hopefully to Simon but then you hear Johns phone ring and you internally cringe, already knowing that you transferred the call to the wrong office.

“This is Price , what can I do for ya?” you hear and want the floor to swallow you up. You look over at Simon and his eyes widening and then is followed by his shoulders shaking and great hes laughing at you.

“Hen, a word ? “ You look up and see John in doorway, leaning against in that sexy way that guys do and you stand up from your desk with you head down and head over. You squeeze by him to get into the office and he shuts the door behind you.

“Please have seat , do you know how to- “ You quickly cut him off and start to explain how your still getting used to transferring calls and that you know Simon sits next to Soap but Soap real name is John but also called Johnny and then everyone's name is blinking an-

“Your not in trouble … did anyone teach how to use the phones?” You shake your head, and then he teaches you, like actually teaches you how to do things, and its the best first day you ever had.

~

You forgot to tell your boyfriend you had to work, and when he got home without you being there he called you. Your phone was on silent. In your purse. He has your location.

The door slam opens with the blinds bouncing on the door causing you be look and be startled. “Where the hell have you been” he demands , you know hes mad , his face is red amd his hair look like he ran his hand through it multiple times and you know for a fact the car is park half haphazardly taking up two spots.

Your used to this attitude and you make sure you stay perfectly still but not too defensive because it will make it worse but you’ve never experienced it at work. You glance over to your coworkers: John standing up in his doorway, Soap moving towards your desk, and Simon watching from his desk , he’s alert and you can’t see his hands.

“I’ve been here, they wanted me to start today”, you smile hoping to pacify him. You start to get stuff ready already knowing that you are about to leave just so he won’t embarrass you anymore. “I’m sorry it was all so sudden, you know”, ending in a nervous laughter.

“I’m not fucking laughing”, he says your name with so much force , you lean back as if that will get you away from him.

“I know” , you say softly, moving around the desk and putting your jacket on.

You look around and thank them for such a good first day.

“You okay ?”, John ask you with a tilt of his head trying to look you in the eye.

“She fine”, your boyfriend answered for you. You know you have tears in your eyes and if you were lighter you would be flustered but all there is to show for it is sweaty armpits. You nod you head and smile at him.

“I will see you guys tomorrow , have a nice rest of your day” , just as your boyfriend grabs you by the arm and drags you out of there.

~

John glances at Soap and then Simon and nods his head towards annex. They need to have a little chat about the receptionist and her little boyfriend.

[laurademelza]

Loooong Saving after using Regul Save Cleaner? Try Kuree's Save Cleaner 1.1

For any fellow Sims 3 oldheads, you may remember that the known save cleaner before Regul's tool was by Kuree.

While Regul's tool is effective and easy to use, I personally find it makes my first save after cleaning take aaaaages to the point where sometimes I just give up and have to force close the game. I've heard others have this issue so I thought I would re-remind everyone of this other tool, which I find to be almost as effective at cleaning as Regul's and not have the super long save issue.

It is called Kuree's Save Cleaner 1.1 and I have made a tutorial for you after the cut!

Part One - Downloading

What you'll find by Googling it is the link here to version 2.2 . I advise against this one. Not only did it stop working for me when the game updated to Patch 1.69 all those years ago, but others have reported issues too with it cleaning too much, such as paintings. I have no idea if it works with Macs and I have no idea if Steam users on 1.67 can use 2.2 since I don't use it.

Instead, I use version 1.1, which has been re-uploaded here by the queen of preserving sims content, Sweetdevil.

Part Two - Using It

As I mentioned, Regul's is very user friendly. This one is less so.

Unzip/unrar the Save Cleaner 1.1 file you downloaded from one of Sweetdevil's links.

Back up your save! Copy your save folder. It will be whatever you called it and located in My Documents > Electronic Arts > The Sims 3 > Saves > Your Save Folder Name. Paste it somewhere safe.

Open Save Cleaner 1.1 folder, then double click Save_Clean.exe and press "Choose Save"

Navigate in Windows Explorer to My Documents > Electronic Arts > The Sims 3 > Saves and choose the save you want to clean

It will only let you choose a file that has your "world name.nhd" so choose that one.

Then press "Start Cleaning", it will remind you again to do a backup, press yes to continue and then it will do its thing.

Done! You can check the save folder again if you want to see how much it cleaned since it won't give you the satisfying "this much cleaned!" like Regul's does but I find it more satisfying when my subsequent save actually finishes, personally.

Part Three - Cleaning Comparison

Here are the comparisons of how much each save cleaner cleans up the same save file:

Kuree Before:

Kuree After:

Regul Save Clean results:

As you can see, Regul does clean a bit more. But the substanial amount of cleaning is performed by both programmes, and I just find Kuree's to not cause the very long saves that Regul's does. Your mileage may vary, as always.

Whichever Save Cleaner you choose, it's a great practice to use one periodically. I typically use it when I notice my save games getting above 60mb but that's just me. It can really help your game load faster and remove some of the junk.

[tinydefector]

Interface Rust Disease

I wanna thank @penny-anna for letting me use this idea, I didn't use it for all the characters and some are shorter than others but I had alot of fun working on this and might do some others if people want other characters.

On another note, I live!!, got sick been working horses and had Christmas, got a new year's party I'm heading to tomorrow so wanted to finally get this finished as it's been sitting in my drafts for a while now.

___________

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mention of sex/interfacing, medical check ups, robot STDs

__________

Shouting can be heard off in the distance, the few bots that were in the west wing gave each other side eyes and looked to Ratchet in concern. "Motherfucker!" A human voice yells. "Which one of you fuckers have been tampering with my car!, there's rust on it and I know for a fact that it's one of you!" They point at the mechs, not enjoying whatever prank they were playing on them.

Ratchet startles at the sudden shouting, nearly dropping the tool in his servo. He whirls around with a scowl as he hears the angry human accusing his comrades. "Now you listen here!" Ratchet growls, stomping towards the shouting human while waving a wrench menacingly. "I won't tolerate that kind of language or baseless accusations in my medbay! If you have a problem, you can bring it to me in a civil manner and we'll get to the bottom of it. But bursting in here, hurling insults, will get you nowhere!" 

The old medic glares down at the human, grip tightening on his wrench. "So I suggest you calm yourself and explain what exactly is going on with your vehicle, without all the colorful language if you please."

They let out a collection of angry noises, but all the other mechs are dead silent and still as they watch Ratchet and the human in their standoff. First Aid watching the showdown in slight excitement. "My car has some sort of alien rust in the undercarriage and it's spreading rapidly! There was nothing there two days ago!" They spit out as they cross their arms. 

Ratchet frowns, lowering his wrench as he listens to the human's explanation. Rust spreading rapidly on an Earth vehicle was definitely odd and concerning. He nods, "Alright, let's take a look at this rust and see what we're dealing with." Ratchet gestures for the human to show him the affected car. As they walk, he glances around suspiciously. This had the makings of some kind of prank pulled by one of the more immature mechs in the base. But he wouldn't make any accusations until he saw the damage himself.

"What kind of car is it?" Ratchet asks conversationally as they walk. He was still grumbling inwardly about his clinic being disturbed, but he pushed that aside to focus on the task at hand. Strange rust required his full attention. They state the make and model, its mileage. Until they reach the area where the rest of the humans who frequent the base had their vehicles parked. "Right there, any idea what's caused the rust or what shit head decided to tamper with my car? " they call out while pointing to their car.

Nothing on the outside gave any signs of rust but Ratchet knew better than that, and he was now having suspicion on what it might be. But why was it on their vehicle? The human lifts the hood of the car showing the advancing rust. Ratchet's optics widen as he gets a closer look at the vehicle and recognizes the telltale signs of IRD. 

He shakes his helm, rubbing his temples where he can feel a processor ache coming on. "Primus give me strength," he mutters under his breath. Turning back to the human, Ratchet's  tone drops into the stern doctor voice. "This appears to be a case of IRD - Interfacing Rust Disease. A...cybertronian STD, in layman's terms." 

Inside, Ratchet cringes. This was not a conversation he ever wanted to have with one of the humans. But the rust had to be stopped before it spread further. "I found rust on my car, I thought the twins thought it might have been a good idea to prank me with something." They begin rambling before they stop, processing what he had said. "Wait, wait your telling me a Cybertronian fucked my car!" They nearly yell, catching the attention of men and mechs around the Ark.

Ratchet holds up his servos in a calming gesture as the human begins to yell again. "Easy now, no need to make a scene," he says evenly. "It appears one of the, ahem, friskier mechs around here took a liking to your vehicle's make and model. It's not unheard of." Ratchet shakes his helm and sighs. "I know you're angry, and you have every right to be. But right now, we need to contain this outbreak. IRD can spread quickly if left unchecked. I need to do a full scan on your vehicle and start tracking down the original carrier."

He gives the human a sympathetic look. "I promise I'll buff out any lasting damage once the rust is treated. And I'll be having strong words with whichever mech defiled your car.For now, let's get your vehicle into quarantine. The sooner I can analyze the strain, the sooner we can get it treated” They huff and grumble before sighing. "OK just please fix it, I'll see if Red alert has any info, I know he likes having hidden cameras around the place, but what happens if it didn't happen in the base?" They finally ask.

"I know it's not ideal, but it's the quickest way to track down the source. Once I analyze it, I have my suspects narrowed down considerably. Just try not to think too hard about the methods, yes?" He gives the human an apologetic shrug. "I've been a medic for a long time, not much phases me anymore. Rest assured I will handle this professionally. Now, let's get your vehicle into isolation before this rust spreads further."

__________

Optimus Prime

Ratchet looks over the list of Autobots scheduled for their medical checkups with a weary sigh: It was going to be a long day examining everyone for signs of the IRD outbreak. But it had to be done swiftly to contain it. Ratchet grabs his tools and sterilizes the med bay berths before coming his first patient. "Optimus Prime, please report to the medbay for your routine examination."

This was going to be uncomfortable, but Ratchet was a professional. He would handle the examinations with his usual detached bedside manner. Still, he cringes inwardly at the thought of inspecting his commanding officer and friend for interfacing rust. This IRD outbreak was turning out to be quite the embarrassing hassle.

Optimus Prime makes his way to the medbay, a slight sense of unease stirring within him. He has the utmost trust in Ratchet's expertise, but he still didn't enjoy trips to the medical clinic; the medic's solemn tone does not escape his notice. As he steps Into the medbay he meets Ratchet's gaze. "Ratchet, what seems to be the issue?" Optimus inquires, his deep voice rumbling with a mixture of concern and curiosity. He knows the medic would not summon him without good reason, and he braces himself for whatever news or examination Ratchet has in store.

"Optimus, thank you for coming promptly. Please, have a seat on the berth." He gestures to the examination table. Optimus complies, seating himself on the berth and looking at Ratchet expectantly. The medic takes a moment to steady himself before meeting his leader's gaze.

"I'm afraid we have a sensitive situation. There has been an outbreak of IRD . I need to examine everyone on base thoroughly so we can identify and contain the source." Ratchet watches Optimus closely for his reaction, knowing this would likely be as uncomfortable for the Prime as it was for him. But it had to be done.

"I know this is far from an ideal, old friend. But I promise to handle this professionally and with the utmost discretion. We need to stop this outbreak from spreading further, I apologize for the invasive nature of this. But I'm sure you understand the necessity, for the health and safety of all in the Ark."

Optimus listens to Ratchet's explanation, his expression shifting from concern to a tinge of embarrassment. The mention of an "Interfacing Rust Disease" immediately puts him on edge, knowing the intimate nature of the condition. He clears his vocalizer before responding, his deep baritone vocals betraying a rare hint of discomfort. "I see. This is indeed a delicate matter." Optimus pauses. As much as he wishes to avoid such an intrusive examination, he recognizes the imperative need to contain this outbreak.

With a solemn nod, he meets Ratchet's gaze, his optics conveying his trust in the medic's abilities. "You have my full cooperation, old friend. I understand the necessity of this procedure, and I will submit to your examination without reservation."

Optimus shifts slightly on the berth, steeling himself. The medic collects his scanners and tools, then turns back to Optimus. "I'll start with a full frame scan, then move on to a more thorough examination of your interface array and surrounding mechanisms."  Ratchet starts slowly waving the scanner over Optimus from head to toe, watching the readings closely. So far just the expected baseline readings, but the detailed inspection had yet to begin.

"Try to stay relaxed, this next part will require closer contact but I'll maintain your modesty as much as possible." Ratchet keeps his tone clinical. With great care and precision, he manipulates Optimus' interface paneling, checking around seams and crevices for any early signs of corrosion or rust deposits. The examination is intimate but the medic remains focused on monitoring for any anomalies.  

After long kliks of awkward but necessary handling, Ratchet steps back with a relieved vent of air. "All clear, the scans and physical examination show no signs of infection. Thank you, I know it wasn't pleasant." Optimus gives a slight nod before leaving in a hurry, most likely to go hide away in his office and try to bury himself in work. 

_________

Ironhide

 his next patient one that Ratchet wasn't looking forward to, Ironhide. 

Steeling himself, Ratchet comms the gruff old warrior. "Ironhide, please report to the medbay for your routine examination."

It isn't long until heavy pedesteps signal the Weapons Specialist's reluctant arrival. "This better be quick, Doc, I've got a shooting range session with the Youngsters." Ironhide rumbles impatiently. 

"Have a seat on the berth and we'll get started." Ratchet gestures brusquely, in no mood to argue. Ironhide huffs but compiles, seating himself on the exam table with a glower. "Alright, let's get this over with."

“There has been an outbreak of IRD . I need to examine you thoroughly so we can mark you off the list of potential carriers” Ratchet starts while moving about. Ironhide immediately bristles. "Rust in my interface array? No chance!" He slides off the berth, waving a dismissing hand. "I'm clean as a whistle, Doc, don't need any exam."

Ratchet rubs his temples. This was going to be even more difficult than he thought. "Now hold on, Ironhide. I know this is uncomfortable, but we have legitimate evidence of an IRD outbreak on base. Just this morning, we found rust deposits on a human's vehicle consistent with trans-species transmission."  

Ironhide's optics widen slightly but he remains skeptical. Ratchet continues firmly. "Which means one of our mechs is infected and interfacing indiscriminately. We need to identify and contain the carrier immediately before this spreads further."  

"I explained the sensitivity of the situation to Optimus and he complied with an examination without hesitation, for the good of the team. I ask that you do the same." Ironhide shifts on his pedes, looking distinctly uncomfortable at the mention of Optimus' exam. He grunts reluctantly. "Fine, Doc. If it's that serious, I'll do it. But this better not leave the medbay, you understand?" 

Ratchet nods. "You have my word. Now please, have a seat so we can get started." After a moment's hesitation, Ironhide sits back down on the berth with a grumble. Ratchet thanks him and begins prepping his scanners, hoping the worst of the arguing is over. Ironhide was prickly but ultimately reasonable, once the gravity of the situation got through his thick helm.

Ratchet's spark sinks as the test results come back positive for IRD. Ironhide...is the carrier? He meets the gruff mech's optics with a grave expression.

" Ironhide. You are infected with an active IRD strain." Ironhide looks stunned, then reddens in embarrassment and anger. "That's impossible! I haven't-" He cuts himself off, glancing away shiftily.

Ratchet's optics narrow. "Ironhide, this is serious. IRD could devastate our already small numbers if left unchecked. I need you to be honest with me, how long have you had a Rust deposit?."

Ironhide won't meet his gaze, shuffling on the berth. Finally he mumbles "...about 4 human weeks now..." Ratchet vents harshly, displeased but unsurprised at the admission. "Alright. Well now we know the source. I'm putting you in quarantine until we flush your systems and you're no longer contagious." 

Ironhide starts to protest but Ratchet cuts him off with a sharp wave of his wrench. "No arguments! This ends now before someone gets infected! Honestly Ironhide, I'm glad it wasn't one of our own you infected but use your processor Mech!"

Ratchet vents tiredly, glad to have identified the carrier but dismayed it was someone as respected as Ironhide. This would be an awkward truth to contain...

"So...lonely and bored, hm? No one around to 'interface' with you properly?" Ratchet asks with a raised optical ridge.  Ironhide scowls, embarrassment rolling off him in waves. "Ah lay off Doc, you know how it gets."

Ratchet chuckles. "I certainly do. Still, you couldn't find a nice mech to 'transfluid transfer' with instead of that poor human's car?, i guess at least you haven't transferred it to an9ther mech which is a relief, "

Ironhide looks even more flustered, if possible. "It...seemed like a good idea at the time," he mumbles lamely. Ratchet just shakes his helm. "You have no idea how angry they were to find 'rust deposits' all over the undercarriage." Ironhide covers his faceplates with a groan. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Doc. I fragged up.”

"At least my interface drive still works properly for my age, unlike some rusted old medics I know..." Ironhide grumbles under his breath. Ratchet snorts, unmiffed. "Oh please, my spike is plenty calibrated, I just prefer not to wear it out like some mechs."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Ironhide retorts with a smirk. 

"Better than what you tell yourself every lonely night in the berth, i have a conjunx" Ratchet fires back smoothly.

Ironhide barks out a laugh at that. "Alright alright, enough banter at my expense. Just fix me up."

________________________

Ratchet vents slowly, steadying himself for the next examination. "Jazz, please report to the medbay." After a few kliks, the saboteur strolls in as if he had been waiting near by, visor bright and a casual grin on his faceplates. "Wassup, Doc bot? Ya called for me?"

"Have a seat, Jazz." Ratchet gestures to the berth, then launches right into explaining about the IRD situation, knowing Jazz would not take gentle persuasion. Jazz's visor flashes in surprise. "Woah, rusty spikes? Ain't heard of that in vorns..." He trails off, then shrugs and hops up on the berth without further prompting. "Go ahead and scan away, Ratch. Gotta do what ya gotta do."

Ratchet nods, mildly surprised but grateful for Jazz's easy cooperation. He proceeds with the examination, starting with a full frame scan. Jazz stays still and quiet, visor following Ratchet's movements curiously but no wisecracks or questions. The scan is clear, so Ratchet moves on to the intimate inspection. Jazz doesn't even flinch as his paneling is manipulated, seemingly unaffected by the awkwardness of the situation.  

In short order, Jazz is also cleared and hops off the table. "All good, Doc bot?" At Ratchet's confirmation, Jazz nods and shoots him a finger gun gesture. "Glad to help out. See ya around!" And he departs as smoothly as he arrived.

Ratchet shakes his head wryly. Leave it to Jazz to take even the most uncomfortable exam in stride. He logs the results, then wearily calls the next bot on his list...

As Jazz turns to leave after his examination, Ratchet calls out to him.

"Jazz, hold on a moment. I have something else I wanted to ask you, regarding...personal matters." Jazz pauses and looks back over his shoulder, visor glinting curiously. "Oh yeah, Doc? What's on your processor?" Ratchet shifts a bit, unsure how to broach the subject delicately. Finally he decides the direct approach is best. 

"It's about you and Prowl. I know you two are...close." Ratchet raises an optic ridge meaningfully. "I want to be sure you are taking proper precautions, especially with this IRD outbreak happening." Jazz's visor brightens in understanding and he chuckles. "Me and Prowler? We're careful, Doc, don't you worry. Been together a long time now, we know how to mesh safely."

His voice takes on a more serious tone as he adds "But I appreciate you lookin' out for us. Wouldn't want my mech getting scrambled spike, you feel me?" Ratchet nods, satisfied with Jazz's answer. "I had to be sure. This outbreak could spread rapidly if we don't contain it. But I trust you two have things in hand."

Jazz gives him a casual salute. "You got it, Ratch. We'll be extra careful for now. Thanks for the check-in." With a parting wave, Jazz saunters out of the medbay. Ratchet watches him go, glad to have confirmation the two officers are being responsible. Now, time to call in the next bot.

______________

If Jazz has IRD

Ratchet's optics widen in dismay as Jazz's test results come back positive for IRD. The easygoing saboteur was the last bot he'd expect to be a carrier, but the evidence doesn't lie. "Jazz, I need you to return to the medbay immediately. Your test came back positive."

Jazz almost bolts into the medical bay, visor flashing in worry  "Positive? But how, i'm positive i aven't got any rust build up or nothin!" Ratchet frowns. "Be that as it may, you are infected and contagious. We need to start you on aggressive anti-rust treatments right away."

"Try to remember any recent interfacing partners, no matter how casual. Tracking the source is key to stopping this." Ratchet says gravely as he starts spraying Jazz down. Jazz looks thoughtful as Ratchet questions him about recent partners. "Honestly doc, it's just been me and Prowler for vorns now. We're exclusive as they come."

Ratchet frowns. "But the rust had to come from somewhere. Are you sure you haven't interacted with anyone else, even casually?" Jazz shakes his helm. "Nah mech, I got all I need with my Prowler. I ain't cheated on him or fooled around."

Ratchet vents heavily. "Then I don't understand how you contracted this, unless..." His optics widened in realization. Jazz looks at him curiously. "Unless what, doc bot?"

"That human's vehicle...did you and Prowl get intimate anywhere near it?" Ratchet asks pointedly it wasn't uncommon to pick up a rust stain from a random object, even more common on earth had the car had rust beforehand and now it had progressed to IRD due to Jazz catching it.

Jazz's visor brightens as his mouth hangs open remembering. "Ohhh scrap!" Ratchet sighs, pinching his nasal ridge. "You two need to be more careful where you interface!"

_____________________________

Prowl

A short while later, Prowl enters the medbay, doorwings held high and posture straight as always. "You wished to see me, Ratchet?" Ratchet gestures to the exam berth. "Have a seat, Prowl. I'm sure Jazz informed you of the situation."  

Prowl's doorwings twitch slightly as he perches on the edge of the berth. "Yes, he briefed me on the details. An uncomfortable circumstance, but a necessary precaution."

Ratchet nods, relieved Prowl is being reasonable so far. "I appreciate your understanding. I'll be as quick and professional as possible."

Prowl simply inclines his head in acceptance. "Do what needs to be done, Ratchet." 

When the test comes back positive it has Ratchet rather stunned as he looks at Prowl. Thinking it had to be a glitch in his system. Was Prowl the culprit? Or had Jazz had it and given it to him. Had one of them interfaced with the car that was currently riddled with IRD. 

Nonetheless, the results don't lie. Ratchet leans heavily on the console, processor racing over how to handle this sensitive situation. Rubbing his temples, Ratchet looks over to the SIC. "Prowl, your test came back positive. You have interfacing rust disease." 

Prowl's optics flare in shock before he regains control of his expression. "That...cannot be. There must be some mistake." Ratchet shakes his helm before walking over with the results  "I ran it twice. You are infected." He fixes Prowl with a stern look. "I need you to tell me exactly how this might have happened."

Prowl is silent for a long moment, gaze darting away in what Ratchet swears is guilt before he finally speaks. "There was...an incident off-base. With a civilian vehicle. I believed it to be unoccupied at the time. I wasn't aware it was one of the humans on base until cycles Ago" 

Ratchet vents harshly. So his suspicions were correct. This is a serious breach of conduct from the normally uptight SIC. "Alright Prowl, listen closely. I will keep this discreet and between us, no one else is to know of this.  Here's what we are going to do..." Ratchet outlines the treatment plan, quarantine procedures, and future disciplinary action for Prowl's conduct. It's an incredibly awkward conversation, but a necessary one to contain the spread of this outbreak.

___________________________

The twins Sunstreaker & Sideswipe

Ratchet vents heavily as he checks his list and sees the next two names: Sunstreaker and Sideswipe. The dreaded "terror twins", as the other Autobots called them. This was one exam Ratchet was not looking forward to in the slightest. Still, it had to be done. Best to get them both in and out as quickly as possible.

"Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, report to the medbay immediately." Ratchet commend. 

Eventually the twins stroll in, Sunstreaker looking irritated and Sideswipe with a cheeky grin. "What's up Doc Bot? You rang?"

Ratchet crosses his arms. "Have a seat, both of you." He states before they comply, Sunstreaker growling and hissing at Sideswipe to stop bouncing around. Ratchet launches into explaining about the IRD outbreak, and is met with predictable outrage.

"No way am I letting you poke around down there!" Sunstreaker shouts, while Sideswipe just cackles. Ratchet rubs his temples as a processor ache builds. It takes nearly a full lecture and argument before he finally convinces them to submit to the exam. 

"One more thing. The contamination we detected was on a human's vehicle. I need to know if either of you have been...interfacing...with any of the indigenous population's machinery."

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe freeze, optics wide. Then they immediately round on each other. "It was you, wasn't it!? Couldn't keep it in your spike plating around the fleshies!" Sunstreaker shouts accusingly at Sideswipe. He knew Sideswipe got along well with the humans even on occasions flirting with them. 

"What!? I don't go near those cars!" Sideswipe retorts. "You're the one with all those weird kinks, I bet you fragged one of their cars!" He argues back pointing a digit at the golden yellow mech. The two descend into bickering and shoving as Ratchet looks on incredulously. Finally he steps between them with a roar.

"Enough! It doesn't matter which one of you glitches did it, the fact is it happened! If I find out you two have been violating the humans' vehicles again, I'll weld your spikes to your afts!"

Ratchet vents harshly, anger simmering through his lines. He makes a mental note to examine the security footage, determine which twin was the likely culprit, and recommend punishment to Prowl. 

As he runs the test the two mechs bicker and make fun of each other. Pointing out paint marks and such as Ratchet takes samples and runs scans. "Hold still, you glitch!" Ratchet snaps as Sideswipe squirms away while he's trying to take a sample. 

"Not my fault, Sunny's ugly face is putting me off!" Sideswipe cackles.

"You wanna see ugly? Look in the mirror, afthead!" Sunstreaker shoots back.

"What's this paint transfer on your thigh plating, Sideswipe?" Sunstreaker sneers. "Been grinding on the native's vehicles?"

"It's from that silver firebird we raced last week, spikesucker!" Sideswipe retorts. "At least I can get some action, unlike you!" Ratchet finally loses his patience. "Enough! One more word out of either of you and I'll dismantle your vocalizers! Now sit still and shut up so I can finish this!"

The twins fall sullenly silent under Ratchet's withering glare. Ratchet vents harshly and continues the invasive examination. Finally the console beeps with the analysis complete. Ratchet checks the results and vents harshly, spinning to face the twins with a thunderous look. "One of you glitches IS infected! These sample results just came back positive for IRD!"

________________________

Sideswipe  with IRD

The twins go still, optics widening in shock. Sideswipe immediately points at Sunstreaker. "I knew it! It's gotta be him!" "What!? Don't try to pin this on me, I'm clean!" Sunstreaker shoves Sideswipe Hard. 

Ratchet steps between them again. " We'll have to run targeted scans on your interface arrays to isolate whichever one of you is the carrier." Both twins squirm at that but grudgingly comply with the invasive scans. After tense kliks, the results finalize - and it's Sideswipe that tests positive.

Sunstreaker crows in triumph while Sideswipe whines "No way, that's impossible!"

Ratchet crosses his arms sternly. "The scans don't lie. Sideswipe, you have some explaining to do. And we need to start containment and treatment immediately before you spread this any further."

Sunstreaker hovers nearby, arms crossed and expression stony. He refused to leave his twin's side despite not being infected himself. Finally Sideswipe breaks the silence in a small voice. "Am I gonna be okay, Doc? This isn't gonna like, permanently damage me right?"

Ratchet vents softly. "You'll be fine, Sideswipe. The contamination is surface-level on your equipment. I can flush your lines and replace the infected components, the rust hasn't set in to seriously"

Sideswipe relaxes slightly. "Oh good. Cause I can't be my irresistible self if my spike doesn't work right, you know?" He laughs weakly. Sunstreaker just huffs. "This is what you get for not being more careful where you stick that thing." "Yeah yeah, lecture me later." Sideswipe waves a hand dismissively. "So how long am I gonna be quarantined, Ratch?"

"At least 2 orns." Ratchet replies. "To allow sufficient time for the decontamination and replacement procedures, and ensure you are no longer infectious." Sideswipe groans dramatically but doesn't argue further. Ratchet finishes sealing off the area then starts preparing for the intensive but necessary treatments. He shoots Sideswipe a wry look. "Let this be a lesson to you in safe interfacing from now on."

As Ratchet starts Sideswipe's treatment, he gives the frontliner a stern look. "What in Primus' name possessed you to interface with one of the humans' vehicles anyway? You know that's strictly prohibited."

Sideswipe squirms. "I dunno, I was overcharged one night after a party and that sleek little sports car was just sitting there, seemed like a good idea at the time." Sunstreaker smacks his brother up the back of the helm. "You idiot! I can't believe you were so stupid." He glares accusingly at Sideswipe. "This better not get us thrown in the brig, I am NOT sacrificing my time or getting benched for your depraved actions."

"Ow! Okay okay, I'm sorry!" Sideswipe rubs his helm sullenly. "It was a dumb thing to do. But come on, you can't say you've never been tempted to fool around with any of their hot rides." He yelps as Sunstreaker smacks him again. "Don't even try to drag me into this. Just accept you're a moron and be glad Ratchet can fix your mess."

___________________________

Sunstreaker with IRD

"Well well, looks like we found our culprit." Ratchet gives Sunstreaker a withering look. "You've got some explaining to do, mech." Sunstreaker scowls defensively. "It's not my fault! How was I supposed to know those 'Cons had rusty spikes?" 

Ratchet vents harshly. "You were interfacing with Decepticons? Are you glitched in the helm!?" Sideswipe cackles gleefully. "Ooooh Sunny's in trouble! Who'd you 'face, the Constructicons?"

Sunstreaker's plating flushes with energon. "No! It was just the stunticons, alright!? Motormaster said they were clean!" Ratchet resists the urge to bang his helm on something. "Of all the idiotic, reckless....do you have any idea how dangerous this is!? For you, for everyone on this base?"

He jabs a finger at Sunstreaker. "You are confined to quarters until I sort this out. And if I find you've endangered anyone else with your stupidity, I'll have you in the brig faster than you can say ‘Mercy’!" 

Sunstreaker looks properly chastised, mumbling apologies “I need to know exactly which Stunticon you were with." Ratchet huffs out optics staring Sunstreaker down. Sunstreaker stops, shoulder plating hunching as he looks back with a sullen expression. "Do I have to say? It's embarrassing."

Ratchet crosses his arms, entirely unmoved. "You brought this on yourself with reckless behavior. I need all the details to contain this outbreak. Now tell me, who was it?"

Sunstreaker mumbles something inaudible, scowling at the floor. Ratchet's optics narrow. "Speak up!"

Finally Sunstreaker spits out "Breakdown, alright! We've been meeting up sometimes after battles. But he said they were all clean! And i got frisky with one of the sports cars on Base is that what you want to know!" Ratchet vents harshly, shaking his helm. "First rule of dealing with Decepticons - never take them at their word. You're damn lucky to only have IRD and not something worse. And damn lucky i can fix that car you scuffed up" 

He points sharply at the door. "Now get out. You're confined to your quarters until I clear you." Sunstreaker ducks out swiftly, plating still flushed in embarrassment. Ratchet logs the details with another heavy sigh. ___________________________________________________

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[seat-safety-switch]

Couple weeks ago, I was watching the evening news when a commercial came on. Usually, I skip those suckers. Change channels. Couldn't do that this time, though, because the television I was watching was in my neighbour's living room. And although the binoculars I was using to look into said living room are exceptionally high-tech, they do not contain a television remote. Always leaving something on the table for the 2.0 version, those fucking scam artists.

Here's what the commercial was: a prayer line. You could dial in and pay nine cents a minute to have a group of folks working in a call centre pray for you. The handsome-yet-celibate dude wearing an insanely expensive suit droned on about something I couldn't hear, but the message was obvious. If I got them to get their god to do my bidding, then maybe I'd be able to win at a salvage auction for once.

The only higher power I believe in is the universe's ability to put its thumb directly on me as soon as I start to get a little smug, almost as if my hubris leads inevitably to a moderately funny downfall. Couldn't hurt to bring in another guy and make them fight.

Thing is, I don't have a phone. Sure, I have a smartphone, everyone does, but it can't make phone calls. Or send data. Or light up more than about half the screen. So I had to help myself to one of the public-use phones at the police station, pretending that I was calling home to my wife to come bring my insurance card. I think the precinct desk clerk was starting to get suspicious around hour two, but she went on break shortly after that and was replaced by someone who I could repeat the same bullshit story to. Four hours in total of god-bothering, I figured, would at least score me a low-mileage Intrepid with subframe damage.

Friends, it did not work. Well, it kind of worked. I ended up with a recent Mercedes luxobarge that was running perfectly well, had low kilometres on the clock, and was immaculate inside and out. Exactly the opposite of what I was looking for. Repulsed, I immediately put it back up for auction and got several thousand worthless dollars of profit, instead of a cool shitbox. That's what you get for trying to mess with the fates.

[orphicrose]

Are you still doing requests? Can I request Alastor x Wife reader who were married together alive an reunited in hell and while Alastor hates modern tech the reader grew on it and even started a life hack channel on voxtube of tricks from the 1920s and it becomes really popular and she gets sponsors and fan mail meanwhile Alastor needs Angel's help just to video chat her and one day she gets a 5 million subscriber mileage congratulations gift box (that all creators get bit hes still mad) from Vox himself

Old man and an Iphone

Requests are still open indeed.

I can definitely do my best! I’ve changed the dates around a little to better fit the technology advancements in the universe. This is set in the early 2000s

This is somewhat small, but i hope you like it.

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

Years passed like turning pages since your husband had departed from you, in the cruelest ways that anyone could imagine. A fate that wasn’t even inevitable. That singular fragile piece of metal, shot from an unknown hunter, took him away from you.

You knew who he was, you knew what he was. Knowing that you’d end up in the same temple of horror one day that he has. His sins being your sins. That brought you some peace. Knowing you’d be reunited one day. Even if it was in the worst place imaginable. Hell. That day came sooner than you’d like to admit. Leaving behind your clueless grandchildren and your own hellish spawn.

The ground below you hit rather hard, not even knowing you were falling down the rabbit hole till the bottom came right to your face. You let off a grunt in response. Your body feeling light, all of a sudden. As if the age and wrinkles had just vanished, and you were young again. Legs feeling like they could run miles, and skin, well. Your new hellish form wasn’t much of an improvement from leather skin.

Knowing for years you’d end up here, it wasn’t too difficult to take in. Accepting your sins and your fate as a part of your journey. It wasn’t so bad. There was society, and structure down here. Immortality being the only true torture.

The other torture, you had no idea where your dearest Alastor had ended up. It had been almost 70 years since you’d seen him, god knows what he looks like now. Your reunion was sudden, after all, he was a well known overlord. Yet, it was still something out of a textbook romance novel.

Over the next decade or two, you two spent every second together. Refusing to be apart again. You sharing stories about your children, grandchildren. Melting Alastor's heart like he never thought you could. There was so much catching up to do. After time, you became infatuated with the media, creating your own channel. it was called "Hellish crafts", which started with a bunch of silly tips and tricks when it comes to house work. Alastor didn't understand, but it came with a hefty income.

After becoming tenants at the misguided daughters of hells hotel, you soon began helping with advertisements. Which grew the channel even more. From random life hacks, to advertisements, to smaller channels asking you for your help to grow theirs.

"Must you film me, dear?" his hand covers his face as the camera fizzes out of focus.

"Yes! Its for Charlie. Lighten up old man" You teased him, filming the hotel lobby. He smiled at your expression, resting a hand on the small of your back as you did your craft.

"Y/n! Y/n! Another letter for you!" Niffty ran over

Alastors hand dropped, snatching the letter from the little goblin.. Eyebrows furrowed. "This is the third letter in the passed three days, sweetheart"

"What can i say, my channel is a hit" One eye was closed as the other was pressed to the run down camera that Alastor insisted you used. Still walking slowly around the hotel, trying to get a good shot. Alastor stood in his place, reading the letter. "Another delusional fan" He mumbled.

"Don't worry! i wont let the fame go to my head" You swung around with the camera, getting him in frame. The static of his aura interfered with the lens and gave your brow a small electric shock. Jolting you backwards.

"I've warned you about that" He chuckled, hand returning to your waist and pulling you closer. His other hand with the letter, raising, and a fit of flames emitted. Turning the letter into ash on the floor, which nifty didn't wait to clean up.

Life was like this for a while, constant letters. Some weird, some genuine. But you never got to read most of them, as Alastor made it his duty to send them to another realm before you could. was he jealous? maybe, he'd never care to admit it though. That was until a rather glamorous piece of paper fell through the letter box on this particular day. Stamped with Vox's logo. You got to this letter first.

"What the fuck?" Your almost angry tone alerted Alastor, whose body materialized next to yours in seconds. "What's the matter, my dear?" his eyes briefly scanned over the letter before snatching it from you.

"What is a 5 million subscriber?"

"Its the amount of people who support my channel, i honestly didn't even know it was that big." you stared up at him, waiting for some sort of outburst on his face.

"That's... " he thought for a second "Wonderful dear! Absolutely wonderful!" his arms wrapped around you in an embrace, spinning you around. When you first started the channel, with his knowledge, it was more of a way to pass the time. So, for it to be as big as it is now was quite the accomplishment. What kind of husband would he be not to support his perfect wife, he thought. Whether she was practically paying vox or not. His quarrels weren't hers.

"I believe you have some type of reward, y/n" He spoke again, putting you down and giving the letter back. His sharp nail pointed at a fine print at the bottom. 'Visit the Vee headquarters to redeem your reward'.

You both looked at each other, brows raised and a concerned look in your eyes. "I'm sure it's not important. I don't need a reward"

He looked as if he was in deep thought. Contemplating everything for a second. "You should go" "But vox is your-"

"Hush, little woman" His finger covered your lips "This is important to you darling. I trust you"

The smile on your face made his bigger, making you deserving of the little peck he placed on your lips before adjusting his posture. "On the condition that my shadow follows your every move"

"Done"

A few hours had passed since your departure, Charlie offering razzle and dazzle to escort you to the large mansion on the other side of the pentagram. It was quite the journey, considering the traffic. And it wasn't long before Alastor began to miss you, wondering if you were okay.

"Ahem" static gave Angel a brief episode of tinnitus before he swung his body on the lobby sofa, met with the lanky deer.

"Waddya want, pimp?" his attention didn't last long, his phone having far more interesting contents than the demon lurking behind him.

"I need a favor" his smile made the question seem a lot more sadistic than intended. His body swiftly moved around the sofa, standing in front of the spider now.

"If you want my soul, I got bad news for ya."

"Your soul?" He was almost confused for a second "No, i need help with this" he lifted his hand, angels phone disappearing and reappearing in the deer's grip.

"Wh- hey! Give that back" Angel leapt to his feet, reaching up and snatching it back. "Why do you want help with a phone? Aren't you like, from the dark ages?"

It took Alastor a moment to be able to admit to it. "I'd like... to call my wife"

"Awww, is someone clingy" angels teasing didn't last long before radio dials appeared in the demons eyes, radio interference filling the air as quickly as it had disappeared earlier. "Okay, okay" Angels hands flew up in surrender, Alastor returning to normal instantly. "Splended!"

It took a moment for Angel to flick through the thousands of contacts he had, before he finally reached you. Pressing the call button and handing the phone to Al. Who held it like an old grampa looking at a meme. "What do i do now?" he squinted his eyes at the device in his hand. "Just hold it" Angels voice became frustrated as he readjusted the phone in Als hand.

You had picked up the call a minute ago now, on your way back to the hotel. Being greeted to the two boys bickering. "Helloooo?" you sung out, attempting to get their attention.

"Oh. Hello my dear!" Alastor noticed to and bared his teeth in an awkward smile. "I just wanted to see how my love was doing, is all"

"How sweet. I will be back soon." You had many questions to ask when you were back with the comfort of your person.

"Do hurry"

[breelandwalker]

Witchcraft Exercise - Creating Correspondences

There are dozens of plant species in the arsenal of the green witch. Commonly-used varieties and usage varies somewhat between traditions, but most of us are fairly familiar with industry standards like basil, bay, rosemary, sage, and so on.

But what do you do when faced with a plant that has no listed magical correspondences anywhere that you can find in your witchcraft library? Simple - you create some.

Allow me to demonstrate with a little plant I found in my own backyard. It's a common weed called Virginia copperleaf (Acalypha virginica). But despite it's widespread range and abundant growth as a field weed, there are surprisingly few references to the plant in regional folk medicine and none at all that I could find in contemporary witchcraft.

So in order to incorporate this hardy little weed into my practice, I set about creating some correspondences for it.

First, I researched the physical properties of the plant. It is a small annual spurge with long taproots, a resistance to drought and many herbicides, and a reputation for fast growth and being difficult to eradicate from fields due to prolific seeding. The leaves turn coppery-red in the fall and small spiky flowers bloom among the foliage. It is also mildly poisonous. The juice of the plant may cause contact dermatitis or a mild rash in some people and if ingested, it may cause GI symptoms such as vomiting and diarrhea.

Next, I researched references to the plant in folk medicine. I could only find a single reference that cited copperleaf as a possible diuretic and expectorant. That does track with the previous mention of GI symptoms, but it doesn't mean the plant is safe to use. I did discover that an alternate name for the plant is three-seeded mercury or mercury weed, likely because of its' tendency for fast growth and the fact that it is propagated by the wind.

So now comes the business of creating the correspondences, using the physical properties of the plant as a basis.

The first and most obvious association is strength. Any weed that is resistant to drought and herbicide and uprooting is bound to be useful for spells involving tenacity and fortitude. Prosperity is also a likely use, both because of the name copperleaf and the way in which the plant grows and spreads quickly. Because of the alternate name mercury weed and the wind propagation, it could be used for wind magic or communication spells. (I often associate the element of air with communication and the name of a messenger god is right there as well, but your mileage may vary.)

The plant could also be used as an ingredient for baneful magic, either to bind and frustrate someone's efforts by consuming available ground where their ambitions might grow, or in its' capacity as a mild poison, to cause physical discomfort and stomach trouble.

So in the end, I have a handful of copperleaf and a listing in my witchbook that details the properties of the plant and notes that it could be useful for spells involving strength, tenacity, prosperity, wind, or communication, as well as possible baneful uses including binding, discomfort, and sickness.

This is my system for assigning correspondences to previously-unknown plants, and I encourage readers to use it as a template for their own practices or to create their own system. Either way, I recommend the use of a field guide or plant identification app like PlantNet to properly identify plants as you find them. Remember to forage and harvest responsibly, be a good steward of the land around you, and always label your plant cuttings.

Happy Witching! 💚🌿

(If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. You can also check out my show Hex Positive wherever fine podcasts are heard. 😊)

More witchcraft exercises here: