#v; the world inverted

[obikindred]

So. Ive been kind of turning this au around in my head like a rotisserie chicken bc i obviously want to keep as many details as possible consistent with canon, but also that is kind of impossible given the massive leaps in technology between mouthwashing’s distant future and. Well. 1917. So what happens is that i figure their platoon is being court-martial’d for something (maybe cowardice/refusal to follow orders? For getting stuck up in the mountain bunker?) and Jimmy suggests blowing up the bunker theyre in so that they would have solid evidence that it wasnt their fault. Curly, still reeling, agrees, not thinking it would go anywhere, but Jimmy nabs the explosives from swansea and goes through with it anyways.

…more ramblings below v

Jimmy, in this au, was aware that Anya is trans before they were even stationed together, and becomes aware that Curly may be an invert (which, historically, means that he is not only queer, but adopts the ‘woman’s role’. This phenomena of inverts being treated more harshly than their more ‘manly’ counterparts is supported by history! Fun fact) while on the Ypres frontline. He is resentful towards Curly because how can a supposed invert, someone whom he has been taught is less than half of the man Jimmy himself is, be such a well-loved leader and well-rounded man? Why is Jimmy so drawn to him? Why does he still respect and even love this ‘man’? What does that say about his own masculinity?

The cognitive dissonance is too much for his weak, spiteful, hateful little pea brain and he feels like he is losing what little control he had over his own masculinity and understanding of the social world to begin with. This leads him to assault anya and, added with the stress of a court-martial, blow the bunker up.

I figure they give Curly what little chloroform they have in the medical kit to keep him asleep until they run out/it starts making him too sick and are forced to start giving him soothing syrup and gin in large doses. Anya and Curly had something of a mutual understanding/budding friendship before the incident, both having had a sense about the other, which makes Curly’s subsequent inaction suck all the more. He understands Anya better than anyone else there, so why didnt he do anything? Anya doesn’t understand, and she never gets to ask. She still takes extreme care in tending his wounds though, and will often go to his bedside and tell him stories/play cards with him (and by that i mean play cards by herself and narrate her strat)

I also figure the whole thing happens over a matter of days as opposed to months because. You know. 1917. But anyways. If anyone wants to talk about this w me/add on to it, any musings are more than welcome!! I love queer and ww1 history :) see tags for more tidbits❤️

[cherubispunk]

BARK! BITE! BLEED! (INTERLUDE) - FWB!Frankie Morales x AFAB!Reader

summary: the sting of biting one’s tongue is a lesser of two evils compared to the sting of rejection.

a note from Lucy: Not really a full part but still important to the storyline. Just a little bit of a deeper look into the reader and Frankie’s relationship, their characters and their ideas of each other.

playlist | moodboard

wc: 3046

Warnings: 18+ MDNI! no use of y/n, obsessive behaviour, frankie is obsessed and it is very unhealthy, toxic relationships, age gap (reader is 21, Frankie is 27) - though not mentioned in this part, graphic smut, oral (f receiving), face sitting, p in v sex, creampie, biting, softdom!frankie, scratching, references to suicide, references to racial discrimination and othering in American school systems.

“Is it your smile I enjoy…or the parts of me still stuck in your teeth?”

Some days Frankie liked to pretend you were a map. Easy to read. The landmarks recognisable on top of your skin. The world growing with you, shifting over bone. Breathing with life. The valley of your breasts. The bridge of your hips. The high street that was your spine. At the top of the high street, just over the fleshy part at the nape of your neck, was a library. It was locked. Always. Sometimes he would look through the window to see if anyone was still there. Peer in through grimy glass to expect someone thumbing through pages of a book, folding the corners to mark a quote, or a passage that held particular resonance. Alas, they were plastered with dated newspapers and rotting boards nailed to the over closed shutters. So he wandered back down, past the railway tracks of one rib, the empty children’s playground of another. The church on your sternum. The graveyard had no flowers by headstones. Half were smothered by a thick blanket of browning moss. Others were merely so caked in grime and crumbling that names were illegible. And passed over the bridge to the empty bandstand of your navel. Where music would play if someone gave the time of day. Behind him were footprints of marks he left with his teeth. A need to show himself he had been here. I have been here.

Behind the bandstand, deeper in, on a small mound of a hill, lay a wooden gate. And beyond the gate was an orchard fenced off from the rest. Here, Frankie would indulge his selfish tongue in the sweet fruit. Between two trunks of apple trees. Bite after ripened bite. The juice was full with a sweet flavour and sticky as it dribbled down his chin. Stained his fingers with their residue when he wiped his mouth. But there was a sharp aftertaste. And before he knew it the apple rotted in his hand. Dropped to the dew dappled grass and damp dirt.

It was always quiet in that town he roamed. No train on the tracks to go clickety-clack. No child on the swings giggling ‘higher dad!’. No busker at the bandstand humming the hymn of god loving us back. Just him. Eerie and silent with only his footsteps to accompany the low murmur of the tree conversing with the blackbird. And the gutters slugged with stagnant rain. He avoided pavement cracks. His mother would save her back. He rounded ladders. It cut himself seven years of slack. Nothing bad would come of it either way. That map was his mind's creation. So he kissed you hard enough to invert you. Fucked you hard enough to invert you. Maybe then he would see what was inside. What wallowed under your skin and festered hot in the gaps between? Each atom of each cell was a stone he wished to turn over. Because there must be something. You had your walls for a reason. Maybe it was written on you like a book? Carved into flesh, a signature he could run a finger over after reading. Behind the backs of your lids, under the tips of your nails. The crook of a knee or elbow. Or he’d trace the freckles on your skin like constellations. Using them like sailors in the archaic times to pass through uncharted waters. Scylla would come and feast on his weathered ship soon enough. Drag him to Davy Jones’s locker. No vessel of good intent crossed your choppy waters before.

You both agreed that you were not a mother. A wife. A bride. Or anything else he might want you to be other than human. You were happy with your independence. You didn't want to throw anything away just yet. Not at all. Not for a long, long while. You set ground rules. Had a straightforward argument that you bought up without the need for him to ask what this consisted off.

“We tell each other when we have had sex with someone else.” Seemed easy enough to Frankie. “And wear protection with them too.” Another valid request. “But most of all, no feelings. I don’t care who you sleep with, or what you do with them, and if you meet someone who you really hit it off with then we call it quits. But if you start to feel even a shred of something more, Frankie, that's it. We call it.”

That had poor Francisco swallowing back a lump in his throat before it could choke the reply back down him. His stomach felt hot, and burned all of a sudden as he tried to digest what you had said. A knot consisting of a livewire thrummed in his gut and made his skin flush. And it irked him to no end.

Frankie remembered his years as an outsider. In a school where the white outnumbered the other. A child of immigrants, lucky enough to have skin that passed. He heard stories of a boy who sat two rows down from him in his American history class. A boy with dark skin and textured hair. Who was teased about his colour. Who threw himself from a bridge because every time he looked down at his hands, darker than those of other students, he felt like he didn’t belong. Frankie felt it too. He could memorise the names of presidents. He could recite that the capital of Texas was Austin. That the United States of America were at war with the United Kingdom from the twelfth of April 1861 to the thirteenth of May1865. But no matter how much of a textbook he would splurge out from between his lips he was always from the outside looking in. It made him wonder in silence to his pillow if he would ever belong. If any fact, or word, or story would make him fit in. He’d have even the gaps between two. He’d squeeze into it, no matter how small, and make it his to belong in. He thought the army would be his ticket in. That if he served a country he would earn his place in it. A foolish thought. For even now, looking at you, he felt the chill from the other side of the window pane. The side in the cold.

While you lay draped in bed, strewn out like the sheets, smoking a cigarette in languid drags, he thought to himself how little he truly knew. Yes he knew about America. But not a sentence about you. Your past. Yes, he knew you did your laundry on Sundays. You came home from the bar you worked in at 1:00. But nothing of note. Nothing important. Part of him liked it. Mystery left room for the mind to entertain. Often fantasy was far more intriguing than reality and it made you seem all the more interesting. A comfort to know he wasn't wasting his time on no one; But rather devoting it to someone. However, the other part— the part of him that watched smoke serpentine from the glowing end of your cigarette— hated it. The way it felt in his gut. Anxiety. He felt it before. But never in this situation. In combat he knew he didn't have time for it. It didn't ululate or linger. It was there, then he swallowed, and it wasn't. Now? Well…he had these moments between. Moments where you would light a cigarette, inhale, exhale. And he would watch as your chest rose, then fell in a pattern enough to hypnotise him. Something so simple as your breathing engaged him. Frankie wondered what it would be like; to live under your skin and have the steady up and down lull him to sleep at night. A rocking back and forth. To and fro. Up and down. Belonging. Moments where he would trace the line of your spine with his eyes. Too scared to touch what wasn’t his until he would bite his tongue and press a single finger to the dip and back down its soft curve. Earlier in the evening, when the sky started to stain tangerine, you had been canting your hips into his, dragging up and down on his length and singing his praises in a breathy chorus. Lost on the feeling of the stretch. The welcome invasion. Then you did the same with his face. Clit brushing zealously over the hooked, aquiline bridge of his nose. Your slick devoured by his wanting mouth. Frankie was the river that ran and unravelled in valleys to feed into your ocean. He hated being in the dark. Only when he fucked you did he have a chance at turning on a light.

“Read it.” He mumbled, nodding to the book in your hands, and rolling over between your thighs to part them. A classic of some century long past. One he never cared much for. But he wanted something. Needed something to tell you to do. Or just something to say. Because the silence was torture for his lonely mind.

You were halfway through stubbing your cigarette into the chipped ceramic dish on your bedside table when he spoke. “What?” You asked, tilting your head in curiosity, eyes searching his. As if the answer lay in their storm-brewing shade of chestnut. Although in the dark, under nothing but halogen street lamp glow, they looked a lot more like black. A nothingness that promised the existence of something.

“I said,” Frankie mumbled again, his voice firm, low and with a gravely finish to it that was just like him. Rough around the edges. Hard to part with. “Read it.” and then, Out loud.”

The words were smudged into the skin of your thigh as he trailed his lips over the inside of the right. His hands skimmed down the outside and squeezed plush flesh. Plump and smooth. Small divots of silver stretch marks on your flesh like ink carved into flesh. Hand painted by some deity in the sky that paid no mind to him now. When he traced his mouth higher he stuck out his tongue. You were wet and hot with his breath and his spit, his come too, still sticky between your thighs at the apex of them. Your very centre. Where his prominent, aquiline nose traced through your folds before his tongue flicked your clit once. “Frankie…” you whined, toes curling. Because you were so sensitive. So worn and stretched and aching. He hushed you, taking liberty over the time where he called the shots. When he was able to bend you to his will and have your head spinning dizzy instead. He didn't feel so motion sick when that was the case.

“Shhh…” he soothed, and pressed the flat of his tongue to your aching sex where heat melted and spread out through your limbs, seeping into muscle and unwinding tension. “Just read…”

Silence. And he thought he may have taken it too far. Finally sent you over some indiscernible edge that appeared too quickly for him to press the brakes. But then your honeyed voice filled his ears;

“Orpheus wished and prayed, in vain, to cross the Styx again, but the ferryman fended him off. Still, for seven days, he sat there by the shore, neglecting himself and not taking nourishment. Sorrow, troubled thought, and tears were his food.” You started, eyes blurring under the hazy weight of pleasure. His tongue delved a little deeper, circled your clit, flicking over the hood of it once, twice, thrice in quick laps. The tip of it pressed to a point and rolled it in careful, full circles. Your nerves thrummed like livewires, humming the same way telephone lines would in a hot summer rainstorm. Where heat lightning flashed ahead.

“Pretty pussy all used and fuckin’ soaked still.” He murmured into you slick, now in a generous shine across his chin. You whined, keening your hips up so his nose pressed to your mound and the smattering of curls there. He lay belly flat to the mattress, hips rutting slowly in tandem with the torturous, bold, and thick laps of your cunt. “C’mon, baby. Léeme a mí. Keep going.”

You read on, lips quivering, words dying by the dragging slice of a moan, a whimper, or simpering whine. Toes curling as his tongue lapped at you. “Three times the sun had ended the year, in watery Pisces, and Orpheus had abstained from the love of women, either because things ended badly for him, or because he had sworn to do so. Yet, many felt a desire to be joined with the poet, and many grieved at rejection.”

His mouth made a sinful soaking sound, wet and generous and full of your taste. “Que cosa mas linda.” He crooned into your cunt, lips smearing into your drenched sex while you stumbled over the words on your page. “Coño— tan mojado, bebita.” You whimpered again, a pathetic sound, fingers daring to curl into the thick head of brown hair at the crown of his head and press him deeper— because, god, you had never wanted something so carnally in your life. “Son deliciosas.” The glint of wanting in his eyes was like the blade of a knife catching the light. A flash of warning before it sliced tender flesh and let blood bleed red. You watched in quivering liquid smooth heat while he tasted, and favoured, and lusted over the seam between your thighs. It was such a pretty sight. Such a wonderful feeling of freedom that sat aching and twisting in your belly. The feeling of impending relief— release. A little death.

“I cant–” You gasped, legs jolting before the malleable, soft and round swell of your thighs clamped over his ears. Your core bearing down on the plane of his nose at your clit and his tongue that dipped in and out of your slick, drooling hole. Large hands, rough to touch, unforgiving and telling, pressed them back to the mattress again. He had you spread completely, open and melting into a pathetic resolve of messy sounds. He dragged his nose through your folds once more, before his lips enclosed around your bud and drew it between them in a sharp suck that had you seeing stars. Ovid’s Metamorphosis, Orpheus, they were put back between the pages of a closed book. Shimmering away into mere dust of thought. A coiling pressure replaced them. One of pleasure, and a slight pain of overstimulation. Hot like a wire in a ready-to-blow fuse. “Fuck– Frankie…” You yelped, and he replied with nothing more than a guttural groan into your centre. A lewd slurp of the slit of your cunt as if it was his last meal. Like it was divine to him. Tasted sweeter than a slice of heaven. Here he could blur into you and forget he was separate. Ignore that you ended somewhere and he started some place after. No gap between could exist with his face pressed into your pussy. Gushing all over his lips and tongue and cheeks just for him. Drenching his face in the thick shine of your slick.

And then there was the slow release of the ache; The coiling heat blooming in your lower belly. Growing with each circle of his tongue over your swollen clit. Your legs twitched from a moment, breathing heavily and staggered as you squeezed your eyes tightly shut. Your vision fizzled behind your eyelids for a moment, making opening your eyes to look down at him retreating would probably have you passing out.

“Bien hecho, chica.” he mumbled as he smeared his lips over your goose pimpled skin, hair stood on end from the tone of his crooning voice, the rough scrape of his moustache over flesh. “Good girl.”

He climbed back up the bed to lie next to you, and the two of you lay still for a while. Your mind felt dormant under the heavy guise of something dragging, your eyelids like paperweights, stinging with the need to just sleep.

“Been meaning to ask you something…” Frankie spoke up, smoothing a hand over your stomach atop the bedsheets you had slipped back under.

“Mhm?’ You asked in a voice that was hazed by the want to sleep, eyes still closed, but awake.

“I’ve got this…thing.” He started, and he watched art you opened one eye to peer at him sceptically, lips pursed ever so slightly. “And all my mates have dates because they're either married, or engaged, or have been planning to get round to proposing…” You scoffed before he had the chance to pick up the trail off of his own sentence. He couldn’t quite meet the scrutinising eyes of yours. The ones that narrowed a fraction as they watched him smooth over the top of your sheets, over a thread that had snagged there when being washed in the machine.

“What thing are you bateing me into going to, Morales?”

“Just a military thing.” He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but the way his thick fingers found and pulled at the same stray thread of your duvet cover said otherwise. “A formal.” There was a hint of fear settling like silt at the bottom of a river in his eyes. A flicker. If that. Maybe you could call it a glimmer from afar. Whatever you might call it, it was better left unsaid. You sighed to save him the embarrassment, rolling onto your side and propping your head up with your arm.

“And there isn’t a single soul on this planet that you know of who can accompany you other than me, hm?”

“Please?” He practically begged, rolling on top of you to speak to the skin of your hot neck, skin still slightly salty from the sweat that had previously lain there. “Just as a friend. Nothing more, I promise you.” It would would be nice to have someone there he wished to add, but but his tongue to hold it back. He hated the idea of seeming soppy. Either way, the sting of biting one’s tongue is a lesser of two evils compared to the sting of rejection.

“I suppose I better find a dress then.”

[yronnia]

[Edit: check my reblog too, screenshots from the book kindly provided by spookydazechaos]

Agnesses Nyce and not so accurate prophecies with screenshots.

The full list below.

Some are unreadable (to me), so I inserted some X-es instead, where necessary. Interesting is, that Orient Chariot is mentioned twice, in prophecy nr. 3819 anf 4019.

Prophecy nr. 3012 is only one I cant allocate, dont tell me its about Aziraphale and Crowley, when Agness adressed Aziraphale by "angel" "thyf " and "principalitee", whats the bit about the dragons? Because they have wings?

1111- An the Great Hound sharl come

and the Two Powers sharl watch in V

Goeth Where is, Where they

Notte, and he sharl name it, True to l

and Hell sharl flee it

2213- I tell ye thyf, and I charge

ye with my wordes. Four shalle

ryde and Four shalle alfo ryde,

and Three sharl ryde the Skye

as twixt and Wonne shal ryde in

flames, and theyr shall be no stopping

themme, not fish, nor rayne nor rode, neirher

Deville nor Angel. And ye shalle be theyr also

2214- In December 1980 an Apple will arise no

man can eat. Invest thy money in Master Jobbes

thinking machine and good fortune

will tend thy days.

2315- Sumsay It cometh in Londo xxx or

New Yorke, butte they be Wronge, f xxx is

Taddes fild, Stronge inne hys powr, h xxxxke

a knight inee the fief, he divideth the xxx

4 partes, he bringeth the storme.

3001- Behinde the Eagles Neste a grate Ash hath fallen.

? 3007- Brings forth

For the devil lucks in plain sight.

Under an arc of pale moonlight.

3008- When that the angel readeth these

word of mine, in his shoppe of other mmennes

books, then the final days are certes upon us. Open

thyne eyes to understand. Open thyne eyes and rede

I do say, foolish principalitee, for thy cocoa doth

grow cold

3009- Seven, who hold the Scepther shall be killed,

xxx shall become a saint.

3011- xxThe?

and churces be laid open

opressed shall prevail, and oppose the cruen

foreginers. For a Boar of Cornwall shall give his

assistance and trample their necks under his feet

3012- A shower of blood shall rain and a ragging

famine shall afflict mankind. When dhese things

happen, the Red Dragon shall grieve, but when his

fatigue is over, he shall recover his strength. Then

shall misfortunes hasten upon the White Dragon,

and the buildings of his gardens be pulled down.

3017- I see Four Riding, bringing the Ende, and

the Angells of Hell ride with them, And Three sharl

Rise. And Four and Four Together be Four, and the

Dark Angel sharl Own Defeat, Yette the Manne

sharl claim his Own.

3477- Lette the wheel of Fate turne, let harts

en- join, there are othere Fyres than mine, when

the wynd blowethe the blos- soms, reach oute one

to anothere, for the calm cometh when Redde and

Whyte and BLacke and Pale approache to Pear is

Our Professioune.

3819- When Orients chariot

inverted be, four wheles in the

skye, a man with bruises be upon

Youre Bedde, achinge his head

for willowfine, a manne who

resterh with a pyn yette his

hart be.

3988- Whene menne of crocus come frome the

Earth and green manne frome thee Sky, yette ken

not why, and Plutos barres quitte the light- ning

castels, and sunken landes riseth, and Levia- than

runneth free, and Brazil is vert, then Three cometh

together and Four arise, upon iron horses ride, I tell

you the ende draweth nigh.

3989- He is not what he says he is

4009- Where the Hoggs back end the young

beast will take the world and Adams line will end

in fire and darkness.

4019- When Orients chariot inverted be a

man with bruises up thy bed, aching his head for

willow fine

4020- Let the wheel of fate turne, let harts

enjoin, there are other fyres than myne, when the

whirl wynd whirls, reach oute one to another.

5001- When the skies are xxxx, then ye

both must stand between the world and life and the

world of wae, where the iron bird lands no more

5004- When alle is fayed and all is done, ye

must choofe your faces wisely, for soon enouff

ye will be playing with fyre

[kommandonuovidiavoli]

I got to know what's going on with Nega!Joey and Nega!Wally. What's their relationship like? How is their home life? What was Joey doing while Wally was unavailable? How and why did Joey join DNK ? Would Joey even have remembered his brother if he went away for years while he was a baby?

Again: sorry for using regular names and sometimes putting "negative" before, I already have problems with spelling, and doing that with inverted names is just impossible (cries in chaos).

[Warning: abuse, manipulation, violence]

Before we start, a little thing: the DNK actually stopped existing after operation P.O.O.L., and the kids decided to create something that could resemble the KND... buuut never actually worked because kids in that world are just too bad. So they called themselves Kids Next Door but did little to nothing to save kids. Penny was the one that, after convincing Wally, would bring the DNK back and keep it running even after Wally got incarcerated again by the GKND, that, in this world, ACTUALLY want to save planets from unruly kids and cruel adults. They actually believe kids and adults can live together and cooperate.

That being said, let's jump to NegaWally and NegaJoey.

Their family is a mess. Their father never spends time with them and actually thinks they're just mistakes and hates them to the core. Their mother tries her best to take care of them and protect them from Sydney, who won't hesitate to beat them, Wally especially. In this AU, the main reason Wally created the DNK was so his father would finally calm down and look at him as something more once he would have kids work for him. It didn't work, so he just went on and became even more unhinged and cruel to everyone.

When he was captured and sent to the Broccoli mines, he had time to study a new plan to take control of his minions and the world again. Meanwhile, Joey was left in a worse household, his father being even worse, drinking and beating both of them. Joey would grow up resenting him, resenting his mother, who he saw as a "pathetic passive coward" and his brother, who was always brought up as a joke because he failed his domain.

He joined the KND to escape his house, and after a bit no one would DARE to joke about his brother, because he would beat the shit out of them. He doesn't talk, and doesn't know ASL, so no one can communicate with him... but Penelope.

Penelope was the first one who actually talked about his brother as a hero, as someone to look up to. She was the only one he allowed to talk about Wally around him.

Wally returned home at 17, after 7 years in the mines, and he looked... different. He was calm, collected, didn't look like the ruthless leader everyone talked about. Well... until he broke his father's arm in front of them when he tried to hit him. His mother didn't allow Joey around Wally while he was at home after that, and Wally didn't seem too interested in Joey. He was more interested in Penelope, actually.

Negative Sector V 2.0 would be the key to lure the normal kids and teens into their world again, but this time it was the GKND of BOTH sides that would help stopping NegaWally again and this time, they would put him into a catatonic state so there was NO CHANCE he would try and do anything else.

Years pass, the DNK are still running because Penelope kept them up, using Joey as she pleased since the boy was in love with her. He's now cruel, violent, a silent rage ready to strike, ready to do anything for her, even... find a way to free Wally again.

The plan was started by Penelope, Joey would take "care" of any guard around and Nigel would finally wake Wally up so he could take his final revenge to the world. Both worlds, actually.

Joey was having second thoughts, and actually tried to stop Wally. To keep him under control, Wally forced him to kill their parents and burn their house down, just to then love bomb him so that Joey would see him as the only person in the world to depend on.

It worked.

[noosphe-re]

Etymology of 'universe'

1580s, "the whole world, cosmos, the totality of existing things," from Old French univers (12c.), from Latin universum "all things, everybody, all people, the whole world," noun use of neuter of adjective universus "all together, all in one, whole, entire, relating to all," literally "turned into one," from unus "one" (from PIE root *oi-no- "one, unique") + versus, past participle of vertere "to turn, turn back, be turned; convert, transform, translate; be changed" (from PIE root *wer- (2) "to turn, bend"). also from 1580s

*oi-no- Proto-Indo-European root meaning "one, unique." It forms all or part of: a (1) indefinite article; alone; an; Angus; anon; atone; any; eleven; inch (n.1) "linear measure, one-twelfth of a foot;" lone; lonely; non-; none; null; once; one; ounce (n.1) unit of weight; quincunx; triune; unanimous; unary; une; uni-; Uniate; unilateral; uncial; unicorn; union; unique; unison; unite; unity; universal; universe; university; zollverein. It is the hypothetical source of/evidence for its existence is provided by: Greek oinos "ace (on dice);" Latin unus "one;" Old Persian aivam; Old Church Slavonic -inu, ino-; Lithuanian vienas; Old Irish oin; Breton un "one;" Old English an, German ein, Gothic ains "one."

*wer- (2) Proto-Indo-European root forming words meaning "to turn, bend." It forms all or part of: adverse; anniversary; avert; awry; controversy; converge; converse (adj.) "exact opposite;" convert; diverge; divert; evert; extroversion; extrovert; gaiter; introrse; introvert; invert; inward; malversation; obverse; peevish; pervert; prose; raphe; reverberate; revert; rhabdomancy; rhapsody; rhombus; ribald; sinistrorse; stalwart; subvert; tergiversate; transverse; universe; verbena; verge (v.1) "tend, incline;" vermeil; vermicelli; vermicular; vermiform; vermin; versatile; verse (n.) "poetry;" version; verst; versus; vertebra; vertex; vertigo; vervain; vortex; -ward; warp; weird; worm; worry; worth (adj.) "significant, valuable, of value;" worth (v.) "to come to be;" wrangle; wrap; wrath; wreath; wrench; wrest; wrestle; wriggle; wring; wrinkle; wrist; writhe; wrong; wroth; wry. It is the hypothetical source of/evidence for its existence is provided by: Sanskrit vartate "turns round, rolls;" Avestan varet- "to turn;" Hittite hurki- "wheel;" Greek rhatane "stirrer, ladle;" Latin vertere (frequentative versare) "to turn, turn back, be turned; convert, transform, translate; be changed," versus "turned toward or against;" Old Church Slavonic vrŭteti "to turn, roll," Russian vreteno "spindle, distaff;" Lithuanian verčiu, versti "to turn;" German werden, Old English weorðan "to become;" Old English -weard "toward," originally "turned toward," weorthan "to befall," wyrd "fate, destiny," literally "what befalls one;" Welsh gwerthyd "spindle, distaff;" Old Irish frith "against."

—Etymonline.com

[barbwritesstuff]

I'm a diehard Blood Moon fan and finally decided to give Thicker Than a try and I'm loving it as well! I think what stuck out the most to me is how good you are at depicting two opposing sides of the age old werewolf v vampire debate. In Blood Moon I was like "Well of course we have to kill these thralls, they're VAMPIRES! Even if they're being controlled they'll still be bloodsucking monsters with no emotions! Better deal with them now than when they're centuries old and an actual threat!" Then in Thicker Than I turn around and am like "It's monstrous what those werewolves did, they slaughtered people who were turned against their will and probably hadn't spent a single moment in a right state of mind since being turned! They never even gave them a chance!"

It's amazing how you can make the reader genuinely see both sides of the thought process, and makes me even more excited for Thicker Than to continue so we can see these two worldview clash some more!!

I'm so glad you like it. The thing I really wanted to do with Thicker Than was flip that coin and show the city/world from a vampire's POV.

Werewolves in Blood Moon are a big family, trying to survive, and sort of taking for granted how naturally powerful they really are.

The vampires are undead, underhanded, and alien.

In Thicker Than, the vampires remain undead, underhanded, and alien, but I can explore how complex their relationships are, why they vie for power, and what it's like to exist as something forever changed from what you once were.

From a vampire's perspective, werewolves are unpredictable, primal, and powerful (not unlike a storm). No one in vampire land really knows how werewolves work, though there are a lot of theories. Mostly, vampires just avoid them, but if werewolves need to be approached, it is done so with a lot of caution.

I'm really enjoying playing with that inverted dynamic. It's not that werewolves have the wrong idea about vampires, or that vampires have the wrong idea about werewolves.

They're both right about each other. Werewolves are powerful and primal. Vampires are alien and self serving. But that doesn't mean that's all they are.

I really hope some of that made sense.

[v3nusxsky]

Ignore this if you feel uncomfortable with this!

Hey, so like, may I ask if you could do like a reader with inverted n!pples dating larissa ands it's their first time having sex and r is rlly nervous bc of their breasts ? thanks in advance!

-v

Not odd but unique 18+

*Authors note~ I had to do some research into this so please correct me if I'm wrong with any parts of this. Please remember all bodies are different and unique and that's what makes them beautiful*

Trigger warnings~ inverted nipples, first time (virgin r) corruption kink, mommy kink, worship kink oral fingering

Prompt~ see ask ^^^^

✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩ ✩

For you, accepting yourself had always been difficult, you knew you were different. There was only about ten to twenty percent of women in the world like you. That statistic alone showing just how rare it was and unheard of it was for anyone who didn't live with them. It also made you so self conscious, you were so careful with any clothing you wore and made sure no one would ever see, afraid of the comments that would undoubtedly voice your own negative thoughts.

When Larissa asked you to be her girlfriend you felt like the most beautiful woman in the world, until you remembered that in a relationship sex would be important, not the most important thing but still important. Larissa knew you had no experience in the subject and she was more than happy to wait as long as you needed until you felt comfortable, she reminded you of that fact all the time and made sure to tell you daily how beautiful you are.

You let months pass without any thought of the act, until you realised you were more than ready to let Larissa have her way with you, if only you could let go of the fear. For the next few months anytime you spent alone you tried to give yourself positive affirmations. Anything that would help you love your body for you. Truly, you knew Larissa wasn't superficial and you knew she loved you for your heart so you had absolutely nothing to worry about. That's why after a year and six months of nothing you decided tonight would be the night. You'd brave it.

Your night started the same, you lay on her sofa with a glass of wine and a book in front of the burning fire while she sat, your legs on her lap finishing last minute emails and basking in the togetherness. Only when she was done for the night did you mark your place in your book and sitting up looking at your girlfriend. She was truly beautiful and you knew how insecure she could be so you wanted to explain before attempting what you'd planned.

"Rissa?" You murmured as your eyes scanned er features before settling on starring into those deep blue eyes, "I think I'm ready. I just need to explain something to you before if that's okay?" Your last bit came off as nothing more than a whisper soaked in vulnerability. She reached to gather your hands in hers, thumbs stroking soothing circles on your hands. "Anything darling. I'm all ears."

With a deep breath you started not realising just how hard this would be, "you're beautiful Ris. I want you to remember that and it's not you, I mean I um I'm not what's considered normal and I didn't want to repulse you" you whimpered at the end, truly you didn't want to make her disgusted by your body. "Darling, you could never repulse me, you're beautiful too my love" she words soaked in love and reassurance caused tears to fall from your eyes, "oh baby don't cry! You aren't meant to cry my love" she rushed coming to wipe your tears away before placing a sweet kiss on your lips. "I'm ready Rissa please" you whimpered against her lips before claiming them again.

The pair of you stumbled into her bedroom, lips never leaving each others. Only when oxygen became a must die you pull apart foreheads resting against one an other, "darling, you're sure? You know you don't have too?" Larissa murmured to you wanting to know you knew that you had a choice. For you, here and now you didn't care that you were different all you wanted was to be hers. Completely hers. "Ris, please I want you to be my first" you confirmed and that was all it took for her lips to kiss down your neck before finding your pulse point. The little whines of need you were letting out was driving the older women wild, you soon found your way to her bed, flat on your back as she hoovered above you. Truly there was no better sight to see.

You could feel your body tense as she took your top from your body, now being left in just a bra the panic swarming behind your eyes was obvious. "Darling? Are you okay?" She murmured not wanting you to be uncomfortable in any way shape or form. Instead of verbally responding you sat up slightly, unclipped your bra with your eyes screwed shut and laid back against the bed. You heard a gasp and immediately feared the worst, hands coming up to cover your breasts as you mumbled out apologies, "I'm sorry I know I'm odd, disgusting repulsing I'm sorry!" You all but cried out only to be met with her gently hushing you and prying your hands from your chest.

"Open your eyes baby" she gently demanded and the submissive streak in you responded instantly, eyes popping open to see her lustful one's. "You're not odd darling, just unique. Is this why you've been so worried?" You nodded your words getting stuck in your throat, not odd? That didn't make sense. Larissa dropped her head to shower your left breast with all the love and attention it truly deserves, moaning against your skin as you whined at the attention. It truly felt amazing, something you'd never thought you'd ever experience. Larissa made sure she'd kissed every inch of skin before moving on to the right breast and repeating her process. Only when she was fully satisfied she'd kissed every inch did she sit back up bringing both hands to a breast and cupping them. "You darling, are stunning and I'd very much like to continue showing you that mommy adores your perfect body" she murmured watching your eyes darken in need at the name, "can you be a good girl for mommy baby?" She purred and you nodded tugging at her dress in a silent reminder she had too many clothes on.

From that moment on clothes were torn from bodies in a hurry, kisses and hands roaming the newly exposed skin until you both lay bare. Larissa then kissed her way down to your freshly shaved core, kissing over your thighs avoiding where she knew you wanted her. You buck your hips upward in an attempt to get more, anything just something causing her to chuckle before coming to take a swipe of your soaked cunt. Only then did you fall flat back on the bed and mumble, "oh fuck me more" which Larissa was more than happy to give you.

She gently brought you over the edge and back down again whispering words of love and reassurance before offering you more, you blindly agreed when you felt her finger tips dancing over your slit. "Darling? Look at mommy, I want to see your eyes as I make you mine, that's it good girl keep them open my love" she purred before sinking her middle finger into your needy cunt. You couldn't help but cry out at the feeling and attempt to follow her demand, only when her finger was as deep as it could go did she purr, "you're mine now baby, all mine!" Loving how you fight you were wrapped around her she curled her finger slightly watching as pleasure flashed over your facial features once more.

After finding that steady rhythm, Larissa brought you over the edge and even managed to add a second finger, your body exploding with pleasure like nothing you'd ever experienced before. "Ris ris fuck please Ris" you whined over and over again. Where you begging for more or for her to stop? You weren't even sure as you flew over that edge, white hot pleasure tearing its way though your body as she fucked you through it. "That's it good girl, so good for me darling, you're so beautiful" she murmured kissing your stomach until she slipped her fingers from your core, a little hiss of pain left you at the sting she left, not quite unpleasant but not something you were use to. "Okay baby, no more you did so good, no more tonight okay? Mommy needs to clean you up thought gorgeous girl can I?"

With you all cleaned up from the mess you'd made and Larissa holding your naked body to her own as your mind came back from the world of pleasure you whined, "Rissa I didn't touch you!" You attempted to move only for her to hold you still, "there's plenty of time for that darling but I wanted you to feel special. Me being your first was special enough and just wait till I get you bouncing those beautiful tits in my face as you ride me"  her words were enough to have a heat spreading over your cheeks, this women would certainly be the death of you, you never thought someone could love you for what you considered odd, but it's true what they say, "beauty is different in every eye of the beholder." You mumbled happily snuggling into your girlfriend. "Tonight was perfect, love you Ris so much" you whispered before falling asleep pressed into her side.

Word count ~ 1642

[asoftepiloguemylove]

my heart wants you, i want your heart more

Olga Broumas Beginning with O; "Love Lines" / Louise Glück excerpt from Poems 1962-2012 / Cesare Saccaggi Incipit Vita Nova - Dante (1903) / Dean Cornwell The Other Side (1918) / Yves Olade excerpt from Bloodsport / Kelly Quindlen She Drives Me Crazy / Elizabeth Jane Gardner Bouguereau Daphnis and Chloe (1882) / unknown / Sarah J. Maas excerpt from Queen of Shadows / Cigarettes After Sex Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby

i. Olga Broumas, Love Lines

[ "the water is tender, green, curls / softly innocent, a lazy noose in the sunlight / i loved you, i know // now, water swells / wood, lungs, i loved you, i go" ]

ii. Louise Gluck, Poems 1962-2012

[ "I pretended indifference / even in the presence of love, in the presence of hunger. / And the more deeply I felt / the less able I was to respond." ]

iii. Cesare Saccaggi, Incipit Vita Nova - Dante

[ Cropped image of a painting by Cesare Saccaggi. A woman holds two flowers to her chest with her left hand and reaches over to hold a man's hand with her right. ]

iv. Dean Cornwell, The Other Side

[ A woman with large wings wearing a white dress and a veil leans upwards to kiss a man wearing red robes. ]

v. Yves Olade, Bloodsport

[ "You can have my heart if you have the stomach to take it. Kiss me hard enough to invert me." ]

vi. Kelly Quindlen, She Drives Me Crazy

[ " 'I hate you,' I say. Then I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her." ]

vii. Elizabeth Jane Gardner Bouguereau, Daphnis and Chloe

[ Painting of two women. One wears a white dress, holding a flower crown to her head as she looks down at a woman in a brown dress. The woman wearing brown has her arm wrapped around the other woman's waist and is placing flowers on the other woman's lap. ]

viii. unknown

[ Cropped image of a painting. Two hands reach towards each other and are intertwined. ]

ix. Sarah J. Maas, Queen of Shadows

[ "They joined hands. / So the world ended. / And the next one began." ]

x. Cigarettes After Sex, Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby

[ "[Chorus] / Nothing's gonna hurt you baby / As long as you're with me you'll be just fine / Nothing's gonna hurt you baby / Nothing's gonna take you from my side" ]

[eretzyisrael]

Key findings on Nawaf Salam’s bias against Israel:

During his time as Lebanon’s representative to the UN, Salam voted to condemn Israel 210 times.

These resolutions contained one-sided denunciations of Israel, and gave a free pass to Hamas. For example, in December 2008, Salam voted for a resolution that accused Israel of “acts of terror, provocation, incitement and destruction” against Palestinians, yet made no mention of Hamas or Islamic Jihad.

Another resolution that Nawaf supported, in 2017, accused Israel of “systematic violation of the human rights of the Palestinian people,” and “causing death and injury to Palestinian civilians, including children, women and non-violent, peaceful demonstrators.”

In his speeches to the UN, Salam also made many inflammatory statements that demonstrate extreme bias against Israel. In January 2008, Salam accused “terrorist Jewish organizations” of committing “massacres.” He also said that Gaza was an “open air prison.” CLICK FOR VIDEO

In a November 2008 UN speech, Salam said the “supreme Zionist leadership” pursued a plan of “ethnic cleansing” through “terrorism and organized massacres.”

In November 2009, Salam told the UN General Assembly that “for too long [Israel’s] war criminals have benefited from impunity”; and Israel was guilty of “flagrant disrespect for international law.” CLICK FOR VIDEO

In 2011, he accused Israel of “illegitimate actions.”

On June 13, 2014, Salam accused Israel of “crimes against humanity” and “war crimes.” CLICK FOR VIDEO

On June 18, 2014, Salam opposed the candidacy of Israel to the vice-presidency of the General Assembly’s Fourth Committee, on the grounds that it is “the most condemned country” at the General Assembly and that it continues to “violate the rules of the international community.” Salam said that Israel was not eligible for election “to any office” at the UN.

On numerous occasions, including November 2016, Salam has accused Israel of “apartheid.” CLICK FOR VIDEO

Salam has also repeatedly attacked Israel on social media. In 2015, on Twitter he called Israel a “Triumph of blatant racist & colonialist choices.”

In 2016, in reference to the 2006 war launched by Hezbollah, Salam accused Israel of using “the most vicious & disgusting weapons of all times.” He never once condemned Hezbollah for launching the war, or for attacking Israeli civilians with thousands of rockets. On the contrary, Salam inverted the cause of the war, writing falsely that it was Israel that “launched a 33 day war against my country…”

[xstarlightxstarbrightx]

mini rambles #1

LISTEN I GOT COVID DON'T @ ME RN ALRIGHT.

okey cool back to me yapping as i continue to procrastinate Inazuma b/c FuCk InAzUmA

[ The Dainsleif Quest ]

Kaeya met Dainsleif here b/c he goes w/ Lumi just abt everywhere

yes i know they actually canonically meet later, dw abt it, i've already thought through e v e r y t h i n g

i'm just gonna say it. dainsleif doesn't help us as much as everyone says he does. he told us just as much abt our sibling as anyone else, the only difference is that he's actually met our sibling.

lumi has emotional turmoil abt 90% of the time whenever she hears abt her sibling, once again, being apart of the abyss order. it succ. why is this happening, bro

also the inverted statue was Fucking Terrifying(tm) to Lumi due to how she vibes w/ the world (and how i've h/c'd it so far), so yeah, that was a tummy twister right there.

[ Outside of Dainsleif Quest ]

while waiting for a Sign(tm) abt Inazuma, Lumi and Kaeya proceed to do the following:

solve a Ruin Guard problem in Liyue

somehow managed to keep Klee out of trouble for the most part in Mondstadt

run into and meet Mona (who found them both Particularly Interesting)

hang out a lot w/ Zhongli now that he's free to do things

discover that Third Round Knockout has discounts at 3pm b/c Zhongli likes to go there like every fuckin day. very nice.

meet Yun-Jin, Beidou, and Shenhe

fix the Jade Chamber

made a lot of pirate jokes abt Beidou (and Kaeya, on Lumi's part)

broke a mechanism in Liyue three times, much to Cloud Retainer's annoyance (don't ask)

became probably the most yapped abt duo in Liyue and Mondstadt combined (not for the reasons u'd think, they're known as "the Brats")

became well-known in Treasure Hoarder circles for a completely different reason from being "the Brats". if u mention the Traveler or her Mondstadt envoy around them, they either break out into a cold sweat and start shaking or they actively disappear. no one is sure why. Lumine and Kaeya do not elaborate.

have had to keep Paimon from breaking into the Golden House (four times, now).

obtained the Serenitea pot. Lumi couldn't figure out how to utilize it for a hot minute, which prompted a three day long journey into figuring out JUST what the fuck they needed to make a fucking bed.

[ Other Bits and Baubles I wanna Mention ]

Kaeya has had to keep Lumine from falling from like seven different scams. not b/c she's an idiot, but more b/c she likes to see how far the scammer is willing to go and tends to go overboard.

Lumine has become an insane penny pincher in a short amount of time. Kaeya is slightly intimidated by this; he's not sure how she keeps track of the Mora they get so meticulously--it's not like she's taking notes every time she collects a coin??? how the fuck does she know exactly where that 49 Mora came from????

Zhongli is often working at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor rn, giving the whole "normal dude" thing a try. He goes to Third Round Knockout every day at like 3pm (b/c they have discounts at that time and it's peak story telling time), and Lumi and Kaeya never miss a chance to sit in with him.

Paimon is a feral toddler who's OBSESSED w/ food. Lumine struggling to keep up w/ her demands but it's fine she's discovered the Frozen King Pig in Dragonspine. Also Xiangling sometimes stops by to cook for them now (Mondstadt was wild y'all).

Kaeya and Lumi work to build up their very tiny teapot abode during the small moments they have between adventuring and helping people out. It's ain't much but it's honest work.

[tiikerikani]

Throwback Not-Thursday (2012 v 2024)

Gerrin Goblinkicker, Dwarf Hero (sculpted by Bob Olley)

This was the last figure I painted before starting up again in 2020.

I'm known to be insufferably/irredeemably stuck in the past, so unlike normal people who might strip and repaint their earlier figures, I painted a whole other copy. This dwarf figure is still in production, so I didn't need to wrangle one from eBay at stupid prices. I even happened to have a matching base (they had come in a 3-pack and I still had the other 2—these are discontinued).

On the old version the middle of the shield is just off-center if you look at the model from that corner and it just feels like something is wrong. For the new version I decided to place him along the diagonal of the base instead of the side. I think this way it is clearer which direction he's facing—though it's actually the feet that are aligned to the diagonal and not his face, so it's still kind of off.

I considered painting a whole pattern onto the shield instead of leaving it plain wood, but I didn't want it to be too different from the old version, so I just changed the shield boss to brass/bronze for contrast.

I had placed him too far forward too; I think I was trying to center the feet on the base instead of the figure overall.

I used the same static grass from a plastic film container of it that I got from somebody. I have no memory of where it's from and this is the only figure I have that uses it. I wonder if it's from 2000/1 when I'd just learned to paint, since a pinch of grass on the base appears to have been typical on Warhammer figures from that era. Maybe I used it on Battletech figures I painted for my classmates at $5 a pop. Anyway, it sits on a bed of green stuff instead of a thick layer of PVA glue (which shrinks so you'd need a lot of it to fill up the hollow base, but that's how I did things back then. didn't know any better).

Recipes

The base blue paint on the old model was Ral Partha's Dragon Blue (highlights in Sky Blue). I still have the Dragon Blue pot and wanted to use it but the paint doesn't stick to the primer anymore so I guess it's dead. It's a bit drowned in black wash on the 2012 model, and here's what I did on the new one:

Speedpaint Beowulf Blue (as you do because, you know, vikings). I didn't shake it enough so it came out a bit purple

Thin layer of Ultramarine Blue

Wet blend Wolf Grey into Ultramarine for first highlight

Gorgon Hide for second highlight

The green base was a bit trickier since the Army Painter Warpaints do not have a match for it (maybe the new Fanatic line does, dunno). But I made it work with a solid coat of Greenskin and then Speedpaint Shamrock Green (the latter of which is a decent match).

P.S. The old Ral Partha Bronze paint is really more of a brassy color. It's not orange-ish at all.

Bonus: Super-black background tutorial (kind of)

When you take the photos, use a sheet of black velour / flocking as the backdrop; Green Stuff World sells these in various sizes but the material is originally used in other things that need to be super dark, like telescopes, so you can probably find it in places where astronomy stuff is sold.

You'll never get all the dust and speckles out of it with a tape roller so just remove as much as you can.

Editing the pictures—I use GIMP:

(Optional) Crop your image. You can do it now, or at the end like I do.

Adjust levels and do color corrections as needed.

Fuzzy select the black area around the figures. 10% tolerance worked for me, but go lower if the figures are dark. You want to avoid picking up parts of the miniatures.

Invert the selection.

Copy and paste to a new layer and put it at the top. This layer will be transparent and contain just the figures and a lot of dust speckles.

Create a new white layer and put it under the transparent layer. Now you can see all the speckles against the white background.

Clean up background with eraser tool.

Hide the white layer and create a black layer. (Or just put the black layer above the white one.)

Clean up any stray dust with eraser tool.

If fuzzy select was overzealous and took out too much (you can flip the solid layers on and off to check), copy/paste those areas back in from the original picture.

[usafphantom2]

If you’ve ever heard the sound of an SR 71 starting up, you’ll never forget it.

On the day the Blackbird took to the air for the first time, many of the ground crews showed up. I had worked all night, but sleep in those days seemed like nothing but a waste of time so I stayed to watch. The weather was perfect for a December day: clear and cold, with snow on the surrounding mountains.

Somewhere around 8 a.m. the desert silence was shattered by the sound of the twin Buick V-8 engines used for the starters. Later, when the Blackbirds operated at their base at Beale, they had permanent start facilities in their hangars, but in the early days two highly modified 425-cubic-inch Buick Wildcats, an estimated 500 horsepower each, were used to turn a massive starter shaft that was inverted into the first one, then the other of the SR-71’s J-58 engines.

One sound I shall never forgot is that of those unmuffled Buicks holding steady at better than 6,000 rpm in excess of 15 seconds at a time, all hours of the day and night. The ground crews, wearing headsets, ran through their checklists. Kelly Johnson stood by in his familiar dark blue suit and tie, smiling as he had a final word for the pilots.

As I stood there waiting for the SR-71’s first flight, I looked carefully around that little corner of the world. Watching the men who were there, I tried to find a simple way to describe their achievements, since I knew few would ever say much about themselves.

A veteran crew chief standing next to me could only murmur, “Her enemies will never be natural.”🙁

Written by Jim Norris

@Habubrats71 via X

[manyblinkinglights]

>;V

Two hand-painted, complementary stripe patterns, and the world's most hamfistedly applied directional map. Combine in various configurations (mostly subtracting regular and inverted versions of the directional map from regular and inverted versions of the stripe patterns). After whipping to stiff peaks, receive: this.

My sharp stripes are doing Furality-specific special effects (iridescence on my hindbody's feet, scrolling rainbow effect, allegedly there's sparkles but I can't hardly ever see any); my rounded stripes are doing simple AudioLink red-and-blue.

[okiecookie20]

EXO "Obsession" theory part 1

Lucky One Theory | the Cube

• Let's first dive into the main theme before exploring other details. Obsession makes us wonder whether X-EXO are evil clones. On the contrary Baek mentioned something similar in their behind the scenes video (pls click on individual screencaps to read):

The boys are involved in this good v. evil fight as we know. Now that we have the theme of alter egos confirmed I wanted to mention there is a song on the album called Jekyll (지킬) the idea is borrowed from R. L. Stevenson's book and makes it easy to connect the dots. The lyrics of the song make it clear about the main plot of this era so we move on...

• Chen plays a game of chess with his evil counterpart. At the end there are certain pieces that remain - knight, knight, 4 pawns idk how this is valid since if a king is in checkmate the game ends conventionally.

I believe Chen and his counterpart are the knights. Now knights + pawns = 6 members in comeback. This might mean that Chen is in control and knows things which the other 5 don't since they are just "pawns" for the time being. He is also the only good guy remaining or smth out of these 6 and others might have been corrupted or defeated??!

I believe Chën won.

There are multiple footages of their chess board too: it might mean each of their actions is being watched by the RF. But I'm still not sure why they have the screens in their room (since Chen has the power of Thunder which could roughly go with electricity?). Is Chen keeping an eye on Chën?

• Moving on.. Chanyeøl is the one in center when the song begins. He is also the only member with eye-catching continuous patterns on his outfit. Something about Chanyeol seems a little off. I have started thinking of reasons for his behavior and vulnerability which I'll surely discuss another time :)

Clearly they emphasize how Chanyeøl is the leader of X-EXO or smth, like the most destructive force. In the mv all of X-EXO (except Sehůn) glow red but we see that only Chanyeol (special emphasis on red eyes) looks like that. This makes me think he is consumed by his evil ego:

Chanyeol and his X-EXO counterpart engage in a physical battle using fire:

At one point Chanyeøl is engulfed by fire as they fight and later we see Chanyeol radiating flames. He is also seen on the red side of the ground, encircled by the fire - hence it is clear he loses the fight. More explained about the fate of doubles in part 2

THANK YOU FOR READING THIS FAR!! 😀

• Kai is a biker and his scenes with Kāi reminds us of bullfighting. In the first gif below, we see how Kai tries to dodge his matador counterpart:

There are negative versions of Kai and his evil counterpart (maybe they fight in two different worlds since we know Kai teleports like in MAMA). I'm unsure who wins the fight since both appear with subdued expressions in inverted colors.

I'll also mention that in the performance video of EXO AND X-EXO, Kāi and Kai interact:

• In this picture we see there are 12 rooms → for the original 12 "legends". Only 6 members took part in this comeback so the other rooms are empty (Luhan Tao and 🥴 belong to the rooms below but were trapped in the maze). Notice how Kai is in the center of the OT9 rooms — he is the key to something. From Japanese, Kai translates to Recovery in English: it could mean protection and restoration of the tree of life to its prosperous state since "tree of life and the heart slowly grew dry" in MAMA intro. This is something very important to revert to as we unravel their clues to the story.

•We see exo playing video games/reading comics in some teaser photos of other releases, the vcr from their EXplOration Dot (Day 1, Seoul) and even Power mv and merch reflects this vibe - which makes sense that the battle at such a physical level is fictitious (and being endured mentally). These might be dreams the boys have after the RF drugged them or possibly influenced them in some way.

Another thing is that the drugs induced by the RF (Lucky One) might have smth to do with the creation of alter egos. The boys try to fight the evil versions of themselves but they were created so that RF takes control over the good Exo who foil their plans and to exploit their powers.

_oh well that's all for now, I will create a part 2 to incorporate it all. Have a nice day!!⭐

[amber-tortoiseshell]

White spotting I.

Naming conventions

This is a comparison of the nomenclature of white spotting patterns in three different cat fancies (FIFe, TICA and WCF), the three i'm most familiar with. Feel free to add more!

Illustrations made with this game.

Click on the 'keep reading' button if you want to see the official descriptions.

FIFe - EMS:

In the Easy Mind System, developped by the Fédération Internationale Féline, there are six different white spotting patterns, four universal and two breed-specific. These are the terms I usually use.

Van (01)

Two colour patches in the face, separated by a white blaze. One patch commences on the rump and ends at the tip of the tail. No white hairs in the solid colour parts. Three small irregularly distributed colour patches on the body and/or on the legs are to be tolerated. Chest and belly must be white. White ears with pink inner surface of the pinna are desirable.

Harlequin (02)

The solid coloured patches must cover at least 1/4, but no more than 1/2 of the body's surface. Preferably the coloured parts should consist of various patches surrounded by white. No single white hairs in the coloured parts.

Bicolor (03)

The colour patches must be clearly separated from each other, even in colour and harmoniously distributed. At least ½ must be coloured, but not more than ¾, the rest is white. A white blaze on the face is desirable. White on the back is desirable. There must be white on the legs, on the chest, face and stomach. No single white hairs in the solid coloured parts.

Mitted (04, only used for ragdolls)

White chin, with or without a narrow white stripe/marking(s) on the bridge of the nose up to the forehead. Narrow white stripe/marking is allowed on the muzzle as long as it follows the median line down into the chin. White stripe extends from the bib and runs down the underside between the front legs to the base of the tail. White mittens on the front legs; the hind legs should be white at minimum up to the heel and at maximum to the middle of the thigh. Coloured spot(s) in this area are acceptable.

Snowshoe (05, only used for snowshoes)

Colour of points, ears, mask, legs and tail to be well defined and in harmony with the body colour. Chin may be white, the colour of the points or a combination of white and the point colour. A white bib on the chest area or collar around the neck area is normal as is white on the stomach area.

Unspecified amount of white (09)

The colours can be with any amount of white, up to a maximum of ¼, i.e. a white blaze, white locket, white chest, white on the belly, white on the paws, etc. There is no restriction on the distribution of the colour(s) and white.

TICA - UCD

In the Uniform Color Descriptions of The International Cat Association there are only four white spotting patterns.

Gloved pattern

A predominantly colored cat with white limited to the paws and back legs with minimal white allowed on the ventral midline. White on the head is not allowed. Gloved cats (i.e., BI) are homozygous for the recessive white spotting variant (wg/wg).

Mitted pattern

A predominantly colored cat with white limited to paws, back legs, belly, chest, and chin in most specimens. The cat is typically about 1/4 white. White does not extend beyond the wrist joint on the front feet.

Bi-color pattern

A cat which has a colored head, back, and tail with white on legs, feet, underside, and lower flanks. A white blaze such as the inverted "V" pattern is often seen. Various markings of white and pigment may occur, but the cat is generally ⅓ to ⅔ white.

Van pattern

A predominantly white cat with colored patches. The patches are usually found on the head, back, and tail, but may also involve the legs and feet. The most extreme expression of the van pattern is a white cat with ONLY a colored cap and tail (as seen in the Turkish Van). Van colored cats are typically homozygous for the common dominant white spotting variant (WsWs).

WCF

A World Cat Federation uses five white spotting pattern types.

Bicolour, Tricolour

Denotes Solid and Tabby/Tortie and Torbie with piebald white spotting (minimum 1/3, maximum 1/2 white). Coloured and white areas are harmoniously distributed. A white blaze is desirable.

Harlequin

Denotes Bi- or Tricolour with 5/6 piebald white spotting. Coloured patches on the body (3-5) and the head, tail coloured. The belly is white.

Van

Denotes extremely high piebald white spotting. Coloured patch(es) on the head - ideally the colour is between the ears. The tail is with colour. The remaining parts of the head, the ears, the back, the belly and the legs are white.

Mitted

White even gloves on the front paws, white boots on the hind legs reaching to the joint. White on the chin, which continues to a white chest without interruption, white belly.

With white

Any amount of white. The pattern does not correspond to any pattern above.

[gayleviticus]

reading 'jesus: a life in class conflict' which is a secular Marxist reading of Jesus and his movement (which they interpret as far more complex than 'jesus was a communist' but was still v concerned w inverting the status of rich and poor, while also not idolising him or treating him as perfect ) and their interpretation of the cleansing of the temple is interesting bc they take it as an attack on the temple as a symbol of economic exploitation of the establishment, which is embedded in the moneychanging

and it's interesting bc they cut against the typical Christian interpretation, which tends to view it as a repudiation of the sacrificial system or Judaism as a whole, or alternatively a criticism of defiling sacred space with exchanging of money (which is not really the same thing as economic injustice)

but they also criticise the more liberal interpretation, which often gets used to defuse the implicit anti Semitism of the Christian one, which holds that the moneychangers were necessary for the function for the temple and so Jesus must have been mad about something else (or even that Jesus was just having a tantrum and didnt grasp the complexities of how the Temple worked). you can understand where it comes from; Christians make a big deal about how the moneychangers were such a consumerist perversion of the Temple and there's enough unpleasant tropes about greedy Jews you get why it's an uncharitable take you'd want to push back on.

but jesus a life in class conflict thinks this is a liberal projection, and in fact connect it to the same kind of mindset that dismisses abolition of police or military or prison. sure, maybe the moneylenders were integral to the function of the Temple sacrificial system. but does that make them immune to criticism or to imagining a system that doesn't depend on such a source of economic exploitation? things can be necessary to the way the world currently runs, but that doesn't mean the way the world currently runs is itself necessary or inevitable. Jesus (from a secular historical POV) didn't have to have a complete concrete plan for what this new ideal system would look like to take issue with the way the Temple apparatus was a source of economic exploitation

the authors might not be perfectly right here, maybe Jesus really was mad about something else - but I think even if their hypothesis is incorrect it is a relevant point that something being 'necessary' doesn't make it good. it's good to nuance and question our handed down assumptions about the NT, especially on the lookout for anti semitism; but those liberal reinterpretations can in turn be lacking and obscured by our own assumptions