#I’m still not over the newsletter line

[ferallester]

alrighty folks so provided we’re getting a full gaymingmas (gay gamingmas), that means that those of us who are Australian will probably get the first upload, whatever it may be, on the 2nd (aka late evening on the first in England), which means lateish afternoon for the Americans

based on today’s upload (6:45ish), and provided they don’t run late, I predict a 7am, give or take an hour or two, upload on Saturday, aka mid to late arvo for the Americans, and late evening for the Europeans

[pygmypouter]

can i ask what your brushes are? your usage of textures is so gorgeous

hi thank you so much! going to answer this mostly abt procreate since i answered abt some of my photoshop brushes a while back and i still basically only use kyle websters gouache blaire brush for everything.

for adding texture over finished stuff i tend to use this set from true grit texture supply. it’s from their free sampler pack. i think u have to subscribe to their newsletter for it but i think it’s worth + it has same set for both procreate + photoshop (and a bunch of other programs too i think) which i love as someone who is indecisive abt programs. when i’m in photoshop i also love to use their butcher paper texture as an overlay for almost everything.

i also rlly like these ones….the 6b ones are all procreate default or edited versions of it. and other ones are i think from tip top brush sets. not sure which ones anymore they are all chilling together in my folder of fav brushes (sorry). if anyone wants u can dm me and i can send u to the zip file where i saved all of mine..… the chisels are from this brush set. these are not particularly textured but i love them for line art+sketching & there’s a few more textured brushes in there as well.

also in photoshop i really like to use a soft round brush on a mid to low opacity & with the dissolve brush mode on to add texture that war.

okay that’s all hope that was helpful at all 😋 love ur art btw <3

[comphy-and-cozy]

Did I spend this morning rereading A Dream Come True again?

Yep. Zero regrets.

I wouldn’t object to peek ins on them if the urge ever hit to write more on this just saying 👀🫶🏻

this is very sweet and I am so very glad that you enjoyed it! because, well...

mastermind - jt compher

Pairing: JT Compher x Reader (f) - A Dream Come True universe

Word Count: ~1.8K

Author’s Note: I’m sorry Ghost lol

Warnings: references to sex, implied smut, language, the usual banter; otherwise, just some ~relationship development~ and an update on my fav duo ♥️🐙

link to series masterlist

January 2024

The email lies buried beneath the myriad of holiday marketing newsletters you ignored and let build up in your inbox. Sales that have long since passed, codes like ‘HOLIDAY20’ and ‘HAPPYNYE’ expired from stores you shopped at once and never unsubscribed from the marketing. 

It’s a Wednesday evening, and you’re sitting on the couch doing your best to mass delete the influx of unread emails from the past three months after receiving the notification that your storage is running low. A knit blanket covers your legs, and the scent of tobacco and teakwood drifts to you from the candle on your coffee table.

“What’re you giggling about over here?”

JT’s low timbre echoes behind you, the sound followed by the soft padding of his feet as he approaches the couch with a bowl of popcorn. His favorite nighttime snack, you’ve grown to learn over the past three months, so you started stocking your pantry with a box. 

You aren’t sure exactly when things became so domestic and natural with him, only blissfully aware of the steady thump of your heart in your chest when his texts come through or the warmth that fills you whenever he kisses you. You’ve managed to get comfortable with his presence, craving it the same way you crave a sweet snack before bed, but you’re still adjusting to the idea that this is real. That he’s still here, returning to your bed, dutifully—eagerly—after every road trip. 

Every time, he’ll sigh, find solace in the warmth of your arms, press his lips against your skin. He’ll fuck you, God, he’ll fuck you; somehow never failing to reveal a new place inside of you that blooms pleasure. Your body has never sang the way it does for JT, expertly coaxing melodies out of you that you didn’t know you knew. 

But sometimes, he just lays, content to feel your warmth against his, head resting heavy on your chest until his breathing becomes steady and sleep takes him. His expression softens, hair falling out of its styled coif, wrinkles settling into the lines of his t-shirt—if he hasn’t already removed it. In those moments, you defy the heaviness of your eyelids to simply gaze at him, memorizing the shape of him in your bed, curled up against you underneath the blankets that will forever be embedded with his scent. 

You can’t decide which you like more.

“I just got an email inviting me to the Toast of Hockeytown event in February,” you reply, accepting the weight of him on the cushion beside you before you steal a kernel from his bowl—your bowl. “‘Fans can look forward to enjoying live entertainment, culinary delights, drinks, and desserts while mingling with the entire Red Wings team, coaches, select alumni, and other local celebrities.’”

JT hums. “Sounds like an event you can’t miss. A chance to meet them?”

“I better make sure I wear my nicest dress. One that really shows off the goods, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” he agrees, eyes flicking to your chest—though it’s covered by a t-shirt, you can feel the heat from his gaze. “Think maybe you’ll get to fuck one of them?”

Laughter bubbles out of your mouth and you shove his arm at his crass joke. “It would be a good opportunity to try and snag someone’s number.”

“Oooh, maybe Larkin? He’s dreamy.”

“Nah, he’s too popular,” you shake your head. “Can’t aim so high as the captain. Gotta go for lower-hanging fruit. Maybe one of the new guys. Ghosty, you think?”

There’s the briefest flash in JT’s eyes that you would’ve missed had you not been watching for it. You catch it, though, smug with yourself that you’ve one-upped him at his own game. 

“Heard his dick is small.” He feigns indifference, but you see the glint in his eyes. Your favorite eyes. 

“You really want me thinking about Ghost’s dick?” 

JT shrugs. “I’m the one sitting on your couch eating your popcorn. And I’m gonna be the one in your bed later.”

Check mate. The nonchalance paired with his confidence makes you weak—he’s right, and he knows it. You could have every one of them fawning over you, and you’d still pick him, every time. Once the joke falls and the silence settles, the sound of the Brooklyn 99 intro plays softly on the television in front of you.

As your mouse hovers over the ‘delete’ button, you’re reminded of the similar event you attended over two years ago—the one that led you to the man sitting beside you. You reminisce on how you spent days deciding on what to wear, even going so far as to get your hair blown out beforehand. Looking back, you’re a bit embarrassed at the effort, but as you feel the warmth of JT’s leg pressed against yours, you think to yourself it was worth it.

“I came to Denver specifically to meet you,” you blurt out, then freeze when you realize what you’ve just admitted to. Your heart thuds in your chest, the sound almost deafening in your ears as he pauses, three kernels of popcorn in his fingers halfway to his mouth.

Testing a glance at him, you’re surprised to see him pop each puff between his lips, one by one, taking his time chewing. Then, “I know.”

“You know?”

“You kn—the entire time?”

“The entire time.”

A sigh accompanied by a tidal wave of relief washes over you. If he knew, and was still here, it couldn’t have bothered him that much. “Do I want to know how?”

“Jus’ know,” he says with another shrug. Then your favorite glimmer shines in the warm chocolate of his eyes, the kind when he’s really feeling the banter. You love him like this. “You’re a bit of a whore when you’re desperate.”

“Joseph!”

An auburn eyebrow raises and he smirks. “You really gonna argue with me on that?”

Your silence is an answer enough, accompanied by flits of how he’s had you begging him on more than one occasion; you resist the urge to smack him at the smug ‘I told you so’ expression on his stupid, handsome face. “You’re not… creeped out?”

“Told you already,” he says around another mouthful of popcorn. “M’flattered. I think it’s cute.”

Heat simmers in your cheeks as you tell yourself you have no reason not to believe him; he’s still there, still eating popcorn out of the faded, red bowl you got from Target when you moved into your dorm at U of M. 

It’s another few moments before he says something that catches you off guard. 

“I came for you.” 

There’s an air of hesitation about him, like maybe he’s been mulling it over as he finishes the last few bites of popcorn before offering you the remaining kernels in the bottom of the bowl. A peace offering, maybe, like he wants to even the playing field now that you’ve confessed something so private. Funny how this isn’t the first time this has happened to you with regards to him.

“What?”

“That night. At Tin Roof.” The second time we met.

“I know you did. You were inside me.”

JT smiles at your snark, a spark glinting in his eye as if he’s replaying the memory in his head. “No, I mean… I suggested that bar to the guys because I knew you were there.”

“What are you talking about?”

He clears his throat. “After we met—the first time—I spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to find you. I kept waiting to get a tagged photo from you, but never did, so… I started combing through my followers.”

Your eyebrows raise, heart swelling at the idea of making such an impact on him that he’d go through such an effort to find you. 

“It took me awhile, but I finally found you,” he continues. “Imagine my disappointment when you were private.”

You hum, waiting with baited breath to hear the rest of his story. The memory of posting the photo of you and him comes to mind, his hand placement just visible on your side that gives you butterflies to this day, despite him having touched you far more intimately since then.

“I’d check back once in awhile whenever you crossed my mind. Still, private. I even made a habit of checking my DM’s in case you decided to message me after we won the Cup.”

“Hard to get,” you tease with a smile. “Gotta keep you on your toes.”

His eyes glint again, acknowledging your quip—because you sure fucking have kept him on his toes. “And then I got a call from Steve Yzerman.”

The breath in your lungs stands still.

“We talked—and I loved what he had to say, don’t get me wrong; Detroit really had been on my radar for awhile—but after I hung up the phone, I went to check your page. Figured it couldn’t hurt. And you weren’t private anymore. And, by all accounts, you appeared to be single.”

You’re doing your best to keep your jaw from resting on the floor, absorbing his candid confession with no shortage of disbelief. Part of you wonders if this is a long, elaborate play to tease you for how you lusted after him.

“Saw the picture of us,” he adds. “And the caption, too.”

A grin breaks out onto your face at his reference. It had been funny at the time, so far-fetched, unthinkable that the contrast between then and now hits you in the chest. Call me JT xoxo, it had said.

“Thought you said I wasn’t the reason you signed.”

“You were… encouraging,” he says with a smirk. You don’t miss the way his eyes dart down to your body. You don’t expect he meant for you to miss it.

As tempted as you are to take that concupiscent gaze and use it to quell the heat that’s simmering between your legs, you can’t resist probing just a little more to see what else you can glean out of him. “So… the bar?” 

“Oh, right,” he blinks, like he forgot he was telling a story; you can practically see the dirty images conjured in his eyes as they float away. “Pretty straightforward, really—before we went out that night, I checked your story, on a whim. You tagged the bar.”

“Joseph Taylor Compher, were you stalking me?”

For the first time, a tinge colors the pretty ivory of his cheeks and his expression turns… bashful? “Does it count as stalking if it’s on your public page?”

“I’m sure the police might have something different to say,” you shoot back with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s only if I harassed you,” JT says. “And I’m pretty confident I did quite the opposite of that.”

He nudges your knee playfully, and you roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you blew my mind, whatever, whatever.”

“You blew mine too, baby,” he adds, the tinge of huskiness in his voice undeniable. “But you knew that.”

And later, after he’s thoroughly appreciated your travel efforts to Denver, when your cheek is pressed against the warm skin on his chest, you whisper, “I can’t believe you were playing 4D chess this entire time.”

“What can I say? I’m a mastermind.”

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Good afternoon Sex Witch!

I was hoping you could help me figure out how to change how I think about sex and unlearn some prudishness/ disentangle it from more genuine concerns and red flags.

Yadda yadda conservative small town childhood, classic backstory. I definitely got a sense of… I guess, safety and rightness by being very “these things are always bad”; not just sex things but sex was, of course, still one of the big things. Of course, then came puberty, and getting out of my comfort zone, and realizing how toxic purity culture was. Growing up meant, in part, my learning to do better by re-examining things I’d taken for granted.

That’s why I’m asking: there’s a lot of… lingering discomfort with a few things. I realized I still feel pretty… uncomfortable around people who have a lot of sex with multiple partners, along with the topics of polyamory and open relationships. I’m monogamous and I’m not ashamed of that, and of course I keep my opinions to myself when around friends who are happy in non-monogamous relationships. Cuz like, this is ABSOLUTELY a me-problem. I would just like to not feel like this and be unambiguously happy for people I otherwise love living their best lives.

(I’m also single and shy; I strongly suspect that envy over people who can attract multiple partners when I can’t seem to even attract one is a polluting variable.)

Regardless, do you have any links to point me to or thoughts to help me dismantle this ugly bigotry protoplasm? Cuz I know I’m wrong; I’d just like to get the bit of my brain to stop sending these stupid alarm signals.

hi anon,

okay, so, first I just want to say congrats to you on the obvious massive amounts of work that you've done to identify the biases you were raised with and work to uproot them. I know you're here because you feel you still have work to do, and I respect that completely, but I think it's also important to recognize that you've clearly come very far from what you were raised with. being able to recognize when something is a you-problem is HUGE.

I also want to say, as gently and with as much love as possible, that it may not ever be possible to totally 100% possible eradicate thoughts that we don't like. in a way, the idea that we can and should be able to control our impulsive reactions to things is still very conservative, right? it's the idea of "thought crime," except now instead of being upset at yourself for having a sexual thought it's being upset for having a thought that's not sexually open enough.

while I understand wanting to eradicate that unpleasant little "yuck" response out of your brain forever, I also believe very firmly that your thoughts alone don't define you or your values. okay, so your knee-jerk reaction to someone you love announcing that they're in an open relationship is discomfort. but what are your actions? what are you saying and doing? are you lecturing them about their immoral lifestyle, or are you pushing that discomfort aside and doing your best to be supportive of someone else's happiness even if you don't personally get it?

your actions and how you're treating the people you care about matter a lot more than the thoughts that you can't help.

having said that, it's still nice to have some framework for how to work through those feelings of discomfort to at least see if it's possible to diminish them and change that line of thinking. luckily, sex educator Nadine Thornhill just wrote about this in her latest newsletter, which I definitely recommend checking out - Dr. Thornhill is gem.

so, with full credit and hoping that she would forgive me for borrowing, here's an excerpt from Dr. Thornhill's newsletter:

Like all humans, I have a judgey little mind that is constantly observing, assessing, assuming, inferring, and drawing conclusions based on random stimuli. That’s always happening, even when I’m in sex-educator mode. But what I can do (and you can, too, if you want) is practice being mindful of my judgements, especially negative judgements. The most critical part of the practice has been getting curious about my body signals. When someone makes a sexual decision I don’t like, a question I try to ask myself is: What does that feel like in my body? Sometimes, I’ve struggled to maintain that level of in-the-moment mindfulness when working with real people and consequences.Movies and TV have helped me explore some of that stuff. It’s a safe place to judge fictional folks and their fictional sexual choices freely. Meanwhile, being able to pause, rewind or replay a provocative scene lets me take the time to take stock of my physical reactions. With time and practice, it’s become easier to recognize the specific muscle tension and rapid breathing that signals disapproval. Why is this important? We may not be able to stop ourselves from forming judgements about other people’s sexual choices. But if we understand and acknowledge them as judgements rather than facts, we can work to avoid imposing our will on other people. One way we might do so is by asking ourselves the following questions: Does this person’s decision affect my body, relationships, or autonomy? What would have to be true for me to want to make this same choice? What might make this a positive choice for this person right now? How might my own experiences or situations be affecting my opinion? How can I express kindness and compassion while still respecting their right to make their own choice?

much appreciation to Dr. Thornhill for putting this so succinctly; I'd definitely recommend checking out her work for anon and anyone else!

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Sunday, April 28 and Monday, April 29

GILES: (from the dining room) Buffy. Are you hurt? BUFFY: Oh... Caleb came back looking for seconds. GILES: My God, is h-he— BUFFY: Still able to make me see cartoon birdies all around my head? You betcha. The short lack of consciousness was nice. I feel rested.

~~Empty Places~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

round and round on a loop (Gen, T) by theirwolf

seeing double (Buffy/Faith, T) by ripslayer

Rust (Buffy/Spike, R) by noctilucent

pounced (or when the cat's got your tongue) (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by marzipanthursday

Something Lingers (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by goodbyetoyou

Broken and Burned (Buffy/Spike, R) by Harlow Turner

[Chaptered Fiction]

The Great Escape Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, R) by the early bird

Wilbur the Bloody Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, PG) by acekoomboom

Secret Obsession Chapter 13 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Maxine Eden

Haunted Hearse Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by simmony

Dracula's Gift Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by the_big_bad

Hand in Flightless Hand Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Tragic

Love Lives Here Chapter 55 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike

So It Goes... Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by scratchmeout

A Ripple In Time Chapter 14 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by CheekyKitten

Sweet Dreams (Or A Beautiful Nightmare) Chapter 3 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by goodbyetoyou

Safe Chapter 35 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Wonder and Ashes

Centerfold Chapter 6 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Passion4Spike, MissLuci

Gargoyle Chapter 5 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by ClowniestLivEver

Title For Sale Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Desicat

The Boyfriend Swap Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Maxine Eden

The Watcher Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by In Mortal

Coming Through Chapter 60 (Buffy/Spike, adult only) by hulettwyo

Not A Date Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Dusty, Dusty

The Eternal City Chapter 1 (Angel/Spike/Buffy, E) by reader304

Déjà vu: Season 1 Chapter 1 (Angel/multi, T) by PearlThorne

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork:Buffy and Spike by novivi

Artwork:Breaking bad doodle by maloops

Artwork:My caricaturized version of the protagonists by Nervous-Bird6052

Podcast:Episode 118: Life Serial by newworldwitchery

Podcast:Episode 26 - It's a Judge in a Box - A Very Wet Episode! (Surprise) by thesunnydalediaries

Podcast:Selfless S7 E5 (Buffy and the Art of Story Podcast) by lisalilly

[Archive]

By request: more Jane Espenson talking about writing by sudo-sbux

[Fandom Discussions]

I think in s6 Giles should have gotten cursed by nicnacsnonsense

Oz by mybuffysittersavampireslayer

jw really went I’ve got it! by raisedbythetv89

I think we’re ultimately supposed to understand that Buffy was emotionally closed off from Riley by nicnacsnonsense

Willow and Giles' shop by nicnacsnonsense

Triangle trying to frame Willow & Anya’s constant fighting as stemming from a protectiveness over Xander and their relationship with him by kookygobbledygook

Genuinely don’t understand anyone who hates Angel by spangelmybeloved

Just watched the episode Angel last night and I’m so insane and not normal about it by spikes-left-eyebrow

Rewatch thoughts and questions continued by multiple posters

Elimination Game : Writer's Best BtVS Episode

Hot Take: Wild at Heart isn't out of left field by Alternative-Ruin-720

How would you feel about a buffy movie? by coincidencecontrol

I think Cordelia fell inlove with Xander by Toya1988

I feel bad for Amy by Wheres_MyMoney

AU where Spike and Dru are present for Connor's birth by halyasgirl

The Slight Adjustment to Make Season 7 Work by SnooDucks4544

Unpopular opinion: Now i'm in my 20s, I think Riley was a great boyfriend by Financial_Sherbet303

What do you think are the most cringeworthy lines from Buffy? by Popular_Monster111

Rewatch 16, S7 finale, final thoughts by Xandertheokay

What are some thoughtless or careless decisions that a character made by PristineSituation498

Which season of Buffy The Vampire Slayer is objectively the best ? by Cailly_Brard16

[4/22] What's your favorite episode 4 across all seasons? by jonaskoelker

Should I watch Angel ? by Beckyplaystuff

everytime i see this i think of spike by Certain_Advantage799

Random thoughts & Questions by Illustrious-Double33

Would I have won this time? by FoxIndependent4310

How would Buffy react to killing a good demon? by brwitch

What's your headcanon for why the Watchers Council doesn't pay the Slayer? by Ok_Area9367

Soul demon thing?? by Aromatic-Emotion-637

My Interpretation of the Ending: Is it False? by PatrickB64

My second ATS season 5 watch so far by ukcountrylover

Which was a bigger betrayal of these choices? by jdpm1991

How do you imagine Angel and Dawn’s relationship would be? by AegeanAzure

Does the name Buffy sound weird for native English speakers? by Background-Neat-8906

I just realized something abt *that* pairing we all hate by ginime_

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

[bettsfic]

2022 in writing

whoops, i wrote this at the end of december, put it in my drafts, and forgot about it. this is my seventh year writing a recap and i just read through all of them again. part of me thinks, "it's been 7 years and i haven't accomplished a fraction of what other writers have in that same time." but then the other part of me remembers 1) other writers are on their own path and working at their own speed, and 2) it's unfathomable to me how utterly mentally fucked i used to be. and i mean, i'm still mentally fucked but at least i'm working on getting better. the point is, i had a different starting line than others.

anyway, it's a new year and that means it's time to think to myself for the 7th year running, "dear god when am i going to publish a book." every year i think, this is going to be my year! every year it isn't.

overcame the worst writers' block i've ever had

"overcame" is making it sound more dramatic than it was. i went on a medication that fucked with my brain and then went back off it. but i worry that when i think back on 2022, i'm not going to remember all this cool stuff i did, i'm going to remember how utterly miserable i was for six months. how terrifying it was to feel like someone else was living in my body. i wrote a little bit about it in october's newsletter.

some of this post i've copied over from my newsletter.

but also i have to acknowledge that when i came back to writing, it felt like my brain had been totally rewired and i feel capable, creatively, of about 10x more than i used to be capable of. i'm still trying to articulate what changed and why.

published some things

“shut up and kill me” -- featured in issue 41 of Barren Magazine. the editor who chose it said it was his favorite of the 700+ submissions they received. very happy this weird story has found its home. please heed the warnings!

“coping skills” -- featured in issue 1 of Flossy Lit Mag, a magazine my friends started and which has some great work in it already.

("not if, when" was published january of this year, so it'll go in next year's update)

published other people's things

in 2022, ofic magazine published 33 prose pieces and 3 art pieces! over half of what we accepted came from not yet published authors and you have no idea how happy that makes me.

won a grant

i’m very very excited to say i won the Barbara Deming Memorial Fund grant to help offset the travel expenses of the residency i attended! i’ve been applying to this for years and it’s amazing to have been awarded it. the judges had a lot of lovely things to say about my work and it was a big confidence boost.

did a residency

i spent a month in beautiful Wyoming at the Jentel Arts residency. i met some wonderful artists, got a lot of work done, and had an amazing time. definitely the highlight of my year.

made the top 10 of a big contest

i submitted "Not If, When" to a screenwriting website hosting a prose contest, and out of what seemed to be a lot of submissions, i was a top 10 finalist, and now my story is being pitched to production studios to see if they want to buy the film/tv rights. i've also had a few phone calls with hollywood people wanting to talk to me about my work (i'm still confused about that) and i think they've gone well. no idea what the endgame is here though.

ran other workshop

i intended to run two fanauthor workshops but i only managed one, because of the whole "just gritting my teeth trying to stay alive" thing. but the one i ran i think went really well!

coaching/editing is my job now

i didn't think too much of that until i met with my thesis advisor to get caught up and she was like, wow that's the dream. and she invited me to be a panelist for the annual publishing symposium at my alma mater.

i'm not getting rich or anything, but i've picked up enough commercial copywriting work to make ends meet.

applied/submitted to a few places

totals:

11 residencies (8 rejections, 2 rejections with encouraging feedback, 1 acceptance)

4 publications (1 encouraging rejection, 3 acceptances)

1 award (1 acceptance)

2 screenwriting-ish contests (1 rejection, 1 finalist placement)

this has been far and away my most successful submission year. 6 major wins!

wrote 421k words

what's extra wild about this word count is that ~400k of it was across 6 months. from january 1 to june 16, i wrote only 22k words. and then from june 17 to december 31, i wrote the rest. and for the finished works, this doesn't include their respective trash docs (where i put everything i cut from a story). if i add in those, it's an additional ~90k.

year over year word count comparison:

2022: 421k

2021: 183k

2020: 375k

2019: 430k

2018: 450k

2017: 150k

2016: 343k

2015: 250k

2014: 311k

nine year total: 2,913,000

& other stuff

i really advocated for my mental health this year and i'm super proud of that. i mean dealing with my brain was basically a full-time job and i've come to accept i'll be spending my entire life micromanaging my own head, but for now things are okay

unfortunately i got a diagnosis that wasn't what i expected, that seems mostly correct, and which i'm having trouble accepting

i moved into an apartment with my best friend and it's going really well so far

the only travel i did was to missouri to visit family, and to wyoming for my residency

2022 goal recap (from 2021)

sell a book any book dear god -- got close, but nope

finish a draft of a new novel -- big nope

get an apartment -- yep! and it's great

publish 3 issues of OFIC -- yes and i'm very proud of them

publish 12 newsletters -- no, published 5 newsletters

register OFIC Press as a nonprofit -- not yet, working on it (this is far more difficult than i thought it would be)

run a successful Fanauthor Workshop -- yep! 2 sessions out of my goal of 4

write a proposal for a fanfiction craft book -- no, but i talked to my agent about it and now we're working on it together

write a script (pilot or feature) and submit to contests -- yes but it was Bad and i've gotta, you know, make it not bad

2023 goals

these are going to be remarkably similar to last year's, considering it's all just stuff that's been set in motion.

SELL A BOOK

finish a new novel (it's february and i've already kind of done this, but still putting it on here)

publish 4 issues of ofic mag

publish at least 6 newsletters

build the 2024 ofic press catalogue

apply for nonprofit status

run 4 workshop sessions

submit nonfiction proposal

build a script portfolio (feature, pilot, spec)

find a healthy balance between writing and living

annual thank you!

despite how badly i derailed for the first half of the year, i'm really grateful to fandom, readers, and all the friends i've made here for your support and encouragement, without which i wouldn't have been able to do any of this.

prior year recaps: 2015 | 2016 | 2017 | 2018 | 2019 | 2020 | 2021

[my-shields-are-down]

Chenford + MISTLETOE 😘

Hello lovelies!  I’m clearing out my inbox of prompts (or trying to at least).  

====

Lucy was explaining the matching holiday sweatshirts that she, Tim and Tamara were wearing to Nyla, James and Jann when Angela snuck up to tap Tim’s arm.

Tim leans down next to her and says, “one sec, I love how she lights up when she explains how clever she is.”

Lucy points to a grinning Tamara who curtsies as Lucy says, “That one sent me a link from ClipTalk as a joke of these customizable holiday sweatshirts, so I got them for the entire family for our “favorite things” newsletter and photo.  As you can see, Tim in his green sweatshirt has circles containing a rams helmet, a football, the dodgers logo, Tam, Kojo and me.  That’s my hand in an I-L-Y on his heart. (Tim stood up a little straighter as people turned to inspect his shirt); Tamara’s white sweatshirt is covered in pics of Kojo, me, Officer Zaddy (Tim), books, and Austin;  my red sweatshirt has Tim, Kojo,Tamara, Nevin’s chai latte, Jack, jackson and on my heart is Tim’s hand in the same ILY hand signal.  We had to also get one for Kojo - so his hoodie has pics of all of us on it.  The sweatshirts are double lined so they are perfect for this cold snap we are having.”

Tim turned to Angela and whispered, “She hasn’t yet found the circle that I had added that says, “will you marry me?” on it.  So who knows when the engagement will happen.  Thank you by the way for helping me with the ring.”

Angela wraps her arm around Tim and squeezes -she loves how happy both he and Lucy are.  But that’s not why she’s here.  

Quickly remembering, Angela turns to Tim and says, “Tim - We have a CODE: ORANGE happening on the back deck.”

Tim is on instant alert and the group stops laughing to focus on Angela.  Tim turns to her and asks, “Sleazy Santa or Rabid Reindeer?”   

Angela says, “Rabid Reindeer - you and Wesley are going to approach him while I get my abuela out of there.  She’s 85 Tim, her heart cannot handle this.”

As Tim and Angela quickly weave through the families in Patrice’s living room towards the back deck, Lucy and Nyla look at each other in complete confusion.  “Should we go after them?”  

Jann takes that moment to chime in and say, “No, sadly this is not our first Rabid Reindeer alert. Dammit, give the man a inch and he takes a yard. Angela must have finally taken him off of double-secret probation and invited him to the party.  We call him Rabid Reindeer because he gets drunk on Rumplemintz Schnaps and french kisses any female over 50 -  by standing with a decrepit bit of mistletoe on a headbad which hangs over the person in front of him.  You think he’s going to hug you, but then he just lays one on you instead.”  

Jann added, “He got banned from the party 5 years ago after kissing Angela’s mom - who promptly hit him over the head with her purse after dumping the still warm hot toddies all over him.

Smitty and Mistletoe should never be in the same room together.”

[4noki-vns]

Consummation Proof of Concept: Fun Facts

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Time is nothing but an illusion… in many ways.

If you haven’t read the demo for Consummation ~wind above the dragon sea~ yet, then I recommend checking it out first! It’s a short hour long read introducing you to a much longer yuri chuunige that I’d like to make in the future.

Download @ https://4noki.itch.io/consummation-prototype

my childhood dreams

You may have seen me say that Consummation is a story that I’ve wanted to create for a very long time. How long; how long is very long?

To answer to that question: almost ten years.

I can’t quite remember when exactly this story entered my brain and decided not to leave, but I can vividly remember drawing the characters on notebook paper during my high school freshman year Biology class. (Consummation, by the same name, was probably conceptualized that year.)

The Four Gods, four territories.

A freelancer called Suzukaze, beloved by the wind.

An info broker called Qin, wearing a qipao.

And a beloved “Senpai” by the name of Kagura.

Those are the key factors that existed back then and still exist to this day.

Of course, since high school, lots of things have changed as Consummation sat around in the ideas document waiting for the light of day, being dusted off now and then in different forms.

For example:

The protagonist switched to Qin from Suzukaze for a period! (Although we’re back to my wind-blessed freelancer daughter)

Senpai (Kagura) was explicitly dead in most early iterations of the story, making it a revenge plot

Characters like Belka and Juhyeon were only created within the last two iterations of Consummation

I’m looking forward to seeing how Consummation evolves from now on, still so much the same yet so much changing.

But for now, I’m happy to ramble a bit about the parts that were exposed in the prototype demo!

-

Q. world building?

First, let’s talk about the world building. Consummation is set in an unspecified era after the world as we know it was destroyed by a calamity that left the majority of the world uninhabitable and dangerous to return to.

We can consider the genre to be modern fantasy, the setting post-apocalyptic.

The plot takes place on an artificial island built in the Sea of Japan, a smattering of cities built upon the artificial land and manufacturing/infrastructure set below the earth in order to sustain an island that has no external trade. The level of technology is similar to ours but possibly slightly more advanced, even as the end of the world would have destroyed a lot of progress.

Whether or not there is any life beyond the island is unknown to the people living on the island; the belief is that they are the last humans on the face of the earth.

The island, which is usually referred to as just the island, is split into four territories in the four cardinal directions, each territory ruled by a group from each of the countries that helped create the island.

Fun fact: It used to be called the “Scrapyard.”

Should we call this a confederacy of dictatorships? Certainly, it wouldn’t exactly be false. (The island is not a democracy.)

For someone like our protagonist Suzukaze, the specifics of government and politics are beyond the scope of her focus, but you’ll see how the characters live on the island regardless.

-

Q. What are the four territories?

In story, the countries that built up the island are Japan, Korea (unspecified), China, and Russia. As such, the territories are split between their groups and mostly run along their ethnic lines although movement between territories is not difficult.

There also exists a neutral city-territory, governed jointly by the four groups ruling over the territories, called Central, the location of the main story.

-

Fun fact: While the Chinese territory and Japanese territory existed in the earliest iterations of Consummation, the other two territories were initially different groups (Italian and MENA).

However, taking into consideration the focus on East Asian mythology and the location of the island, I decided to go with countries from within the geographical region around the Sea of Japan that would be reasonably involved in the joint development of such an island.

(Maybe my Italian and MENA girls are somewhere out there in their own version of an island…)

Q. Who are the ruling groups of the four territories?

However, despite speaking in broad strokes of countries above, it quickly becomes clear that the ruling groups of the four territories are not quite the former state governments but rather families with the blessings of the Four Gods (the cardinal beasts, however you would like to call them).

The ruling groups can be considered powerful families that existed in their respective countries before the end of the world. They were able to gain positions overseeing the island before the collapse and then consolidated power as the de facto government after the collapse.

-

In earlier iterations of Consummation, the story was also more focused on gangs and gang warfare (a mafia story?). However, for the sake of certain plot points, the four groups turned from their initial characterization as string-pullers influencing a weak government to the government themselves.

This is what we call the monopoly of legal violence.

Q. Cults?

Yes.

Q. language?

Given the four countries that led to the four territories, it would make sense that multiple languages should be spoken on the island.

At the very least, Russian, Japanese, Chinese (Mandarin), and Korean are spoken on the island. For the time being, I won’t specify if there’s a common language used for cross group communication or if everyone can just magically understand each other like Tekken characters. (o´▽`o)

Q. Senpai?

But you might notice that a very important character is referred to as “Senpai.”

Given the differences in types of relationships that exist across cultures (e.g,, there are so many ways to refer to various relatives in Chinese), I was unable to find a good word to describe the relationship between Suzukaze and Kagura aside from “Senpai.”

Perhaps if they were in school, then I’d call it something like “upperclassman” or “senior sister” (haha, no way), but it’s something that I can only describe as “Senpai.”

As such, you may see terms like “Senpai” used throughout the story for character relationships that are difficult to describe in English.

Q. What about honorifics?

However, I will refrain from using honorifics throughout the story. It would quickly become confusing with so many in-story languages, and my familiarity with Korean and Russian is relatively poor.

The lack of honorifics may be considered a loss of information, but as the story is originally written in English anyhow, I imagine that shouldn’t be a huge problem. Overall, I’d like to be consistent within the story.

Thus, no honorifics here!

Maybe next time.

misc

Q. Who are the heroines/love interests?

Given that Consummation is a yuri game, I figure that I should specify who the love interests are before I close off this ramble.

They are Qin, Kagura, Juhyeon!

My daughter Juhyeon will get revenge for her flirting being ignored…

(There is a minor chance of Belka having a route as well, but currently no plans are in place for a Belka route.)

-

I hope I’ll be able to elevate Consummation to active project status soon. There is currently no timeline for that change, and I have at least one project queued up before Consummation.

So, for now, stay yuri!

shino

[theundertalenebulartheory]

WELL THE POWER AND INTERNET ARE STILL OUT IDK WHEN ITS COMING BACK AND THE NEW CHAPTER IS HAUNTING MEEEEE SO HERE IT IS YOU CAN HAVE IT IN TUNGLR FORMAT UNTIL THE POWER COMES BACK AND I CAN GET THE NEW CHAPTER UP ON AO3

Chapter 23: In Which We Go Camping Again And Nothing Catches On Fire This Time Except A Few Faces

((There will be a little Present Day Blurb in the Summary Section when this chapter goes up on AO3 as well as some End Of Chapter notes about how very normal I’m feeling about the Summer Newsletter))

You’d taken up journaling. There wasn’t, exactly, a whole lot you could do about the whole Time Travel thing. And whether or not you woke up one day or another you weren’t entirely sure you’d be able to tell the difference between the first and 50th time you’d lived a specific day.

But there was the thing about certain things just kindof existing in your knowledge bank that you kept coming back to. Which meant that you’d learned them in the first place.

Which brought you to the journal. Even if you didn’t exactly have a lot of confidence that *what* you wrote could be maintained from one timeline to the next (otherwise you assumed you’d be finding a paper trail of some kind lying conspicuously around the house) but if you could somehow internalize what you were writing about, then maybe... maybe you could at least start over with a bigger toolbox than what you’d had previously.

Along those same lines, you’d also taken Papyrus up on his offer to really start training you in earnest. There was so, so much to do. Bills to pay. Taxes to file. Portfolios to submit. But Papyrus made time for you, and you made time for him. And as you did, you started to notice things that you wondered if maybe you’d already noticed before.

Like the fact that reading was hard for him. And articulating some of his thoughts could be a bit of a challenge. There was that whole Junior Jumble thing too, and that particular bullet point got double underlined in your fancy new journal. He was just too smart for that to NOT mean something.

Paps wasn’t the only one under the microscope. Sans, too, was exhibiting some behaviors that you’d started to jot down on a page in your new book. First of all, the man couldn’t read a map to save his life. He just needed to BE there. Or have been there. But where he’d been and where he needed to go were almost two completely separate things. It was almost like whatever filing system his brain used for how to get to places was totally removed from the actual 3D space itself. You‘d even asked him one time if he was inside a new house, couldn’t he just estimate the distance between himself and a backyard just outside that he’d never been to before and shortcut there? Nope. Only places he’s been, or places he can, in any given moment, actively see. There was also the sarcasm, tone-deaf thing too. But that one got a question mark next to it in your notes. That one might have been more of a cultural difference... except that Papyrus was the most sassy and sarcastic person you knew. So the note stayed regardless.

You’d been taking other notes too. Notes about things you’d been learning from Muffet. Things you’d been learning on your own as you tried to do what Muffet explained and then messed it up horrifically. To your credit, though, the look on Papyrus’ face when you accidentally messed up his bullet pattern because you’d managed to create a funnel that caught and redirected every one of them was freaking hilarious.

Slightly less hilarious was the loss of HP when the far end of that funnel was connected to your soul and you took an entire field of bullets right in the chest all at once.

And so a note ended up in the journal. But as winter changed to spring and your university graduation drew nearer, you found yourself drawn to a date. An event, rather. Which is what you’d been looking for in your philosophical discussions with Sans. A landmark of some kind. And here it was.

A meteor shower.

You discussed it with Papyrus and Sans and the three of you decided that Sans needed the trip the most (in spite of what he argued to the contrary) and so the two of you would go together. Especially when the possibility of bringing everyone else along got brought up and both you And Papyrus suddenly got extremely cagey for no discernable reason and suddenly you very much wanted to stay home.

You didn’t.

But you were tempted. Papyrus decided to stay home though. There was something… something undeniably anxiety-inducing about the day that none of you could put your finger on. So Pap stayed. And you and Sans went to see the meteor shower.

Your old beater absolutely was Not going to make the trip, but you had an uncle with a truck that was willing to trade you vehicles for one weekend so you could go see the stars. You picked up Sans and his telescope from Toriel’s McMansion of a home at 4 AM Friday morning, noticing the way he eyed all the totes and bags in the truck bed somewhat disbelievingly. But he climbed in after securing the box for his telescope with some spare bungee cords and buckled up without verbally questioning it all too much.

“Alright, we’ve got road snacks in the center console, a little baby cooler on the back seat with drinks, and you’ve had all the pit-stops you’re going to need for a few hours?”

“ ‘m good.” His voice was extra low and graveled so early in the morning and you did your best to keep the effect that was having on you down to a minimum.

“Awesome. You’re totally ok to nap for a few hours, by the way, once we make it out of Ebbott. I’m way too hype for this trip to even be slightly sleepy so you go to sleep for a bit. It’s gonna be a solid 8 hours in the car even once we’re past the way station. Might as well nap for some of it.”

As if on queue he stifled a yawn, settling into the seat to get comfortable and adjusting the angle of the seat backing. “nah, i’m awake.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Super awake. At 4 AM. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.”

“you’ve never met anyone as awake as I am right now.”

“Sure.”

Thankfully the waystation wasn’t busy at this time of the morning, and Sans was able to shortcut to the roof of the building without issue. You passed inspection with no issues, and Sans dropped through your roof to land easily in the passenger’s seat once you were rolling past it. You had a nice laugh about it together, but after that you didn’t even make it onto the freeway before he was softly snoring. It took a little station surfing, but soon enough there was a smooth jazz radio station to keep the road noise from being too distracting for him. This was a pretty big deal, and you didn’t want anyone to start the day off on a sour note. He was going out on a limb, doing a one-on-one trip with you after all of the soul-bond weirdness had finally started to settle down and your relationship friendship was finally starting to get easier again. The least you could do is make sure he started the day well rested.

It was funny though. What soft snoring sounds he was making for the first 20 or so minutes of the drive changed a little bit, smoothing out into almost soundless deep breathing after some time driving. You weren’t 100% sure how to feel about that, but you shrugged it off without taking it too much to heart. He stayed asleep until the sun was well over the horizon, the strategic way you’d arranged the sun visor to block the worst of the rays finally failing as the freeway turned in just the right direction to evade your best attempts to keep his face out of the sun.

Blearily, he came to, and you made sure to continue bobbing your head side-to-side along with the music even as there was motion in your periphery. You let him look around and rub his face on his own terms without calling attention to it, letting him decide when he was ready to engage with you. It took a minute, but not as long as you thought maybe it would take, before he finally yawned out loud and grumbled a little to himself. You finally peeked over at him, caught his eye, smiled, and kept driving.

“never took you for a smooth jazz type.”

“No?”

“nah.” His voice was still rough with sleep, and you reminded yourself silently that you REALLY needed to get a grip on yourself if you were going to survive the weekend.

“It’s nice to study to. Lo-fi, smooth jazz, instrumental covers of pop songs. It’s also nice to have on as background napping music.”

“…ah. you didn’t have to do that. i can sleep through anything.”

You hummed thoughtfully, switching the radio station to something a little less… well, a little more like something you would prefer to listen to for hours at a time. “Maybe. But you had to get up early. And you’re going to be up late.”

"hopefully. kindof hard to watch a meteor shower when its daytime.”

You rolled your eyes at him fondly and shook your head. “Alright, wise guy. I spy with my little eye something red.”

Between the car games you knew, songs on the radio that you liked, (a check-in phone call to alleviate some of the itching in the back of your brain) and the snacks, eight hours in the car flew by faster than you thought it would. You made it to the campsite just after noon, and even with Sans’ inexperience in the ways of Tent Poles you had a nice little campsite set up just in time for lunch. Your totes of pillows and blankets didn’t go into the tents, though. Not yet, anyways. Those you dumped out into the bed of the truck and made a lovely stargazing nest out of. There was a little nature walk and a stream to play in nearby your site that took up most of the afternoon, and by the time Sans had somehow soundly beaten you at ‘how many frogs can I catch’ (you had your suspicions that maybe some shortcuts and trickery had been involved, but you couldn’t be too mad about it when he smiled like that) it was time to stoke up a fire and cook dinner. You checked in with Papyrus again, and discovered that Toriel had started feeling apprehensive also and had started doing some gardening outside.

Regrettably, it turned out that Sans was the kind of heathen that liked his marshmallow burnt to a crisp even after you made him a perfectly golden-brown masterpiece of a mallow. But he seemed to have fun with the process, and really that was all that mattered. You did too, it had been years since you’d been camping (as far as you remembered). It brought back tons of great memories, some of which hadn’t been so great when you’d been going through them but made for hilarious stories now that you were older and time had smoothed the rough edges. Nothing actually terrible, of course. But plenty enough awkward and miserable that Sans actually fell out of his camp chair laughing as you really hammed up the retelling of the time that your parents had taken your family camping during ‘monsoon season’ and a microburst had chased the lot of you underneath the upside-down shell of your tent after the wind had snapped 100% of your tent poles.

Regaling him with stories of misadventures in camping as a kid ate away at the hours of the early evening, as did another check-in phonecall to Pap and Tori.

“you think that whatever might have happened in that past timeline... it was bad?” Sans asked as you hung up your fourth check-in phonecall of the night, firelight dancing over his bones.

You sighed and rubbed your hand over your face, knowing logically that you were clearly having some kind of mental breakdown over nothing at all but grateful that it wasn’t just you experiencing a bout of unexplainable anxiety tonight. “It’s got to be, right? Especially with Pap and Tori feeling it too. But we don’t know what it is. And that’s the tricky part, isn’t it? We don’t know if it’s some kind of earthquake that’s going to strike or if like... we did all come camping together before and Frisk fell and broke their leg. There’s just this feeling of... I just need to check on them. All of them. And if I don’t, then something bad might happen. And if it’s a feeling that extends to all of them, then that kindof feels... big, you know? Like it’s not just that I need to check on Papyrus, because if that’s the feeling I had then it would make sense that Papyrus was the one that something bad happened to. Right?”

Sans nodded, looking grimly down into the fire. “we can go back if you want to.”

“No,” you shook your head quickly and settled back into your folding chair. “I want to be here. And I know that they’ve all got each other. I think I just need to stop scratching the itch, you know? They’ll call if something happens. And if something happens, we can always jump right home. But we’re here, it’s a beautiful night, and I’m having fun. I want to see the meteor shower.”

“well... long time between now and then.”

You checked your watch and grinned. “Yeah, but the stars are pretty great even before it’s time for the meteor shower to really kick into gear. Actually, we’re probably far enough past sunset now to get started. Most of the light pollution should be gone now. Wanna see something cool?”

“sure.”

You winked at him as you stood up and grabbed the bucket of stream water, dousing the fire with a spectacular hiss.

The effect was almost instantaneous, as your bucket of water reduced the firepit to a smoking black ring, the sky above you burst into life. Your attention was on the ring of stones at first, checking for any glowing embers you might have missed (Smokey the Bear was NOT going to be disappointed in you tonight!) but you could hear the gasp next to you. And you remembered your first time coming out to one of these truly Dark Sky Zones. Your own father dumping water on the fire and the way you’d quite literally fallen over yourself trying to crane your neck far enough to take it all in.

Satisfied that you’d sufficiently soaked the coals, you carefully reached out to touch his shoulder to catch his attention. He tilted his head your direction a few degrees, but didn’t take his eyes off of the sky.

“Hey. Your eyes aren’t quite adjusted to the dark yet. Close your eyes for like… 20 seconds to let them adjust a little, then try again. I promise it’s worth it.”

“heh. seems… pretty worth it already. but… ok.”

He was loathe to peel his gaze away from the stars for even a second, but with some effort he eventually closed his eyes. With a near-giddy grin, you took his arm.

“Keep ‘em closed. No tricks. I’m just going to guide you towards the truck. It’ll be worth it. Just keep your eyes closed for a bit longer, and when we get to the truck don’t peek. Use the chance to get up into the truckbed as a chance for you eyes to adjust a little more. The dark blankets will help kindof… force your eyes to finish adjusting to the dark. Then you can look. Promise.”

You guided him expertly and carefully, in spite of his grumbling about it, back to the pickup truck and the blanket nest you’d built earlier in the day. He looked down just long enough to climb into it, but as soon as he was settled among the pillows his face was turned heaven-ward again. You settled in too, and finally let the weight of being the responsible host slide off of your shoulders enough to relax into the moment and gaze at the trillions of stars that made the sky glow like the very best and most impressive NASA satellite images available. But with a depth and grandeur that no photo could ever capture.

It was cool, of course. Grand and spectacular and majestic and poetic and whatnot. But… you couldn’t keep your head from lolling to the side so you could watch Sans.

His eye sockets had never been so wide. And his eye lights practically filled the whole space. They were so bright, too. Brighter than a whole handful of stars. Bright enough that you could almost see the rims of his sockets glowing with just how intensely he was focused on taking in absolutely every single detail. If you didn’t know any better, you’d guess he was having the equivalent of a religious experience as his gaze swept reverently across the Milky Way.

You let him be.

You kept watching him, but you did so silently. He’d never looked so relaxed in his life, nor had he ever looked so small. The usual softness to his figure held up by some kind of magic that gave him such a huggable shape day in and day out was completely abandoned and his clothing draped loosely over his bones in a way that showed off just how little mass he really actually had. You’d never actually seen his shirt fall into the gap between his pelvis and his ribs, even when he had been sleeping in the car. But his sleeves, his shirt, his shorts, everything draped over his bones and nothing more than his bones and he looked so, so small. So slight. Like a stiff breeze might blow him away. And you had to fight the urge to bundle him up in your arms and burrito him in a blanket just to make sure some bluejay didn’t grab him by the spine and fly off with him (hour of the night notwithstanding.)

After what felt like 30 minutes you watched him tug one of his mittens off and then lift his hand towards the heavens, reaching out for the stars. It was deeply endearing, and you grinned to yourself. That was one of the funny things about stargazing that you couldn’t anticipate just by looking at pictures of the stars. If you watched them, flat on your back, for long enough… you started to get a sense for depth. You could start to feel just how vast, like watching the sea stretch out all the way to the horizon, the expanse was. Incomprehensible though it was. And in that vastness… there was you. Little old you. Floating in the middle of all of it.

And since you were floating… couldn’t you just… you could almost just… if you could just reach a little further, then, maybe…

It was funny how such immeasurable intensity could mess with your head. Logically, of course, you knew you couldn’t. But your heart still wanted so desperately to believe that it was right there. And as you watched Sans reach, starlight glittering through the hole in his palm, you let your gaze follow the line of his hand heavenward again.

“Feels so close, doesn’t it? So close but so far.”

“… yeah.”

“Hey.”

“hm.”

“Just a fair warning,” you kept your voice low, so as not to disturb the moment, but you could feel his eyes slide over to you anyways. “Looking at this many stars all at once tends to make people wax philosophical. And being up late with someone tends to lead to really deep and personal conversations. So just like… a fair warning that you’re going to be really tempted to start talking about eternity and the multiverse theory and the insignificance of our existence and all that. Which I am totally down for. But if you’re not, this is your disclaimer now. This is the deep end of the pool, my guy.”

He huffed a laugh and shook his head, settling back into the pillows. “good to know.”

There really wasn’t anything like a sky bursting with stars on a cool and clear night. The Milky Way stretched the full length of it, well and truly glowing with life and energy. It had been years since you’d been out here, but the view was no less awe-inspiring than it was when you were half as tall and dozens of times more carefree. The memory was a gift you cherished, and the way it had molded your worldview couldn’t be bought with all the gold and silver under Mount Ebott. How many lives would be so different if more people could come out to a place like this and watch such a spectacular parade of stars and feel, profoundly, how small your place was in the cosmos every few years or so?

“I’m sorry.”

“… don’t be.”

“Someone needs to be. I can’t fathom how… a thousand years ago, this would have been what our ancestors would have seen every single night. How can you see something like this every single night and treat people like that? Put them under a mountain?”

“now who’s being all philosophical?”

“Oh, it’s me, for sure. That warning was for you in case you didn’t really want to share anything deep, but it was also a warning for you that I AM going to get all deep. Super deep.”

“that’s what she said.” You could hear the grin in his voice, and you were half tempted to sit up and wiggle your eyebrows at him, but you weren’t quite done admiring the view yet. You’d just started to notice a star moving a tiny bit faster than the other ones and you were suspecting maybe you were looking at a planet that you didn’t want to lose sight of just yet. Definitely not fast enough to be a satellite, but maybe a planet.

“Nice… Vaguely Related Side Note: Conceptually I understand the mechanics of how a strap-on works. But there’s also this little nagging voice in the back of my head that says,” at this point Sans started to crack up but you kept going undisturbed, “if you were actually to put one of those on… the specific location where the dildo would sit isn’t actually supported by any bone structure. The bone structure sits too low to actually provide support where you’d need it. Right? It’d be like strapping it onto your – Sans I’m being serious, stop giggling – strapping it onto your stomach. It’s all soft tissue right there! Wouldn’t that be uncomfortable?”

He managed to string something together in response, but it was nearly impossible to understand through his wheezing. Something about a harness and weight distribution and something called a ‘symphasis.’ “No, I GET the harness part, but still. Like… there’s going to be a concentrated amount of force on a non-reinforced part of your body. You gotta consider the pounds per square inch.”

His wheezing devolved into a deep and rolling laughter and he doubled over into a fetal position with the force of it. “i didn’t realize that this is what you meant when you said we were going to get deep,” he coughed and continued to giggle, barely holding onto his composure. “the harness has like… a plate. not a plate, what word am i looking for? a triangle. a patch. that’s not it either. a base. spreads out the surface area on the bone structure.”

“Ah, that would help.” You finally pulled your eyes away from the maybe-planet and watched his laughter fade into a smile, humor still working towards smoothing out the exhaustion usually carved into his face. You were really starting to get to know the subtle micro-expressions that tugged at his skeletal grin, and for once this one looked genuinely pleased with no reserved hints of worry or masking. “Glad to hear from the expert. I was really worried there. One less mystery of the universe to worry about now.”

He snorted, a strange sound without all the internal nasal structures that normally came with being human-shaped, but a close enough approximation to the sound that you could tell what he’d meant to do. “didn’t know you came star-gazing with a… sex-pert.”

“Better you than me,” you joked. “People get DEEPLY uncomfortable with people in public education having hobbies other than like… jigsaw puzzles and knitting. Gotta prepare for the next 30 years of G-rated fun only.”

“ok, but you and alphys killed that jigsaw the other night, though.”

“That is entirely beside the point,” you countered with a very put-upon frown. Sans just snickered, and you couldn’t help the urge to lean over and rest your head on his shoulder. This had been what you’d been wanting so badly when you invited him to come with you. Sure, the two of you had spent hours together debating the finer points of timeline shenanigans. But it really did seem to eat at him. If you had to hazard a guess, he was maybe even starting to show symptoms of depression. Not that you’d call him out on it, of course. But that didn’t mean you were just going to lay down and let the man just BE depressed either. So... you brought him camping. Some sunshine. Some fresh air. Change of scenery. And a sky full of stars to get lost under. An excuse to pull out his old telescope, ready and waiting for you just beside the pickup truck.

“My grandma could knit,” you mused out loud after a comfortable silence had settled between you. “She tried to teach all the grandkids how to do it. Emphasis on tried, anyways. I never could get it. She tried when I was like… seven? Bored out of my mind, couldn’t grasp the concept. Grandma loved to make dolls for her great grandkids. None of the boys ever really liked dolls so she actually went online and found these patterns to knit Transformers so they wouldn’t feel left out. What’s funny about that, though, is once she started making them then all the grandkids wanted one. Even ones who’d already gotten a regular doll. And then their friends wanted one. She thought about starting an online business before her health tanked. I still have mine in my closet. It’s cool.”

Sans shifted, and when you peeked over at him, he was looking at you with the corners of his smile falling a little bit downwards. “is she… uh…”

“Yeah. She passed on a couple of years ago.”

“sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Your eyes sparkled with the ability to parrot his own words back at him. The sparkle didn’t last, though, and you turned your eyes back to the stars. “She was really sick, and she hated wasting away. She was one week away from 100 years old. I kept telling everyone we needed to have an early party for her. 100 years is a pretty big deal. But… people were busy. It happens.”

“sounds like you two were close.”

“Oh, sure. I lived with her.” You put your hands behind your head and started looking for any constellations you could remember. The peak of the meteor shower wasn’t going to be until much, much later in the night. “One year after starting Uni is when Grandma’s health tanked. Everyone else either had families or stuff going on or was too young. They were going to put her in a home,” you caught yourself, identifying that Sans might not have the social context to know what that implied. So, you amended, “a, uh, a communal elderly living center that’s expensive as hell and has like... staff and nurses and stuff like that to take care of the old people’s needs. But it’s also… kindof famous for being the place you drop old people off and then abandon them until they die because you’re paying all this money for nurses and staff to take care of them. Just... shuck that responsibility off on someone else. Which sucks.”

“that’s... horrible. humans really do that?”

“Not everybody, for sure. But it’s not uncommon either. And to be fair, nobody in my family wanted that for her, but grandma needed help and nobody else was really in a great place to step up and do the 24/7 care thing that she needed. Which is part of the reason old people end up in those care centers in the first place. Everyone’s so poor and busy trying to get by that they literally can’t keep up with the level of care that a lot of really old people need. Even if it’s their own flesh-and-blood family. So… I... said I’d do it. I moved in just after finishing my second spring semester. Spent seven years doing 24/7 care for her. Meds, bathing, diapers, the whole bit. She got social security checks in the mail and a veterans check because of grandpa, and I used them to pay the bills and feed us both. Buy her meds and stuff. The aunts and uncles would come over sometimes but... not for very long. Fifteen, maybe thirty minutes. Then they’d be gone again for months.

“It was about… oh… maybe... Year 5 of just the two of us, barely any visitors ever, when Grandma met with the people managing her trust and included in her will a laughably low sale price for the house contingent upon her passing and first right of refusal for me. It was still more than I could really, actually afford, but… in today’s market? I couldn’t pass it up. I’d be the world’s biggest idiot to let that offer slip through my fingers, no matter how hard it was going to be to make it work.

“So, here I am. A decade behind all my peers. Just barely finishing my degree. Working 2 jobs that I get paid for and one that I don’t. I love Science Saturdays and it looked amazing on my resume, but doing a whole job for free really sucks while trying to maintain a scholarship. I’m glad it’s over and I’m finally a graduate. I thought about still doing it through the summer but... nah. I think that chapter of my life is done.”

“wait… you don’t get paid for that?”

“Nope. I don’t. 100% volunteer hours. Which… again, great resume builder. Great for getting experience with coordinating and managing and such. Great for building connections and networking and the like. No dinero, though. Nothin’ but pictures where my money used to be. The real money maker is the waitressing gig, but that comes and goes too. Did you know that most restaurants pay about $2 an hour and whatever you make in tips has to be reported to the IRS so you can get a year’s worth of taxes all billed at once on April 15th?”

“that’s messed up.”

“It is, but on the bright side I’ve gotten SO responsible with money. Budget game off the charts. Color-coded Excel spreadsheets and everything. Quicken could never.” He chuckled softly, but you could almost hear the gears turning in his head. Putting puzzle pieces together. Connecting dots. You braced for the inevitable pity or sympathy or whatever aww-that’s-so-sad sentiment might come out of him next.

“what keeps you going?”

You blinked at the Milky Way, surprised. It took a minute of thought, but eventually you said, “Spite.” He barked a laugh and you snickered along with him. “No, but really. Hope, probably. It’s just… got to get better. I don’t want to live like this forever. It has to end. Or… change, I guess. Not end. Gotta beat grandma’s record. I want… friends. TIME. Room to breathe. I want to take a fencing class. I want to learn another language. I want to paint again. I want to go dancing with friends and bake them cookies and have dumb inside jokes. I don’t want to be lonely until I die. There’s so much out there to see and do and learn and experience and I’m stuck with my nose to the grindstone and it’s got to mean something. I’m just holding onto that with a white-knuckled grip until my fingers bleed. The hope that it gets better. And if it won’t get better on its own then damn it, I’m going to make it get better.”

Sans shook his head. “perseverance.”

“Heh. Yeah. Funny how that works out. But that does leave me with some questions, though.”

“oh?”

He turned more fully to you, propping himself up on his elbow, and you matched his pose with a mischievous sparkle in your eye. “Absolutely. I mean, you use blue magic, right? Like a bright, sky-blue?”

“cyan.”

“Right, right,” you nodded. “I can’t quite remember what that one is though. Cyan stands for ‘cute,’ right?”

The glowing blush that erupted over his zygomatic arches was, indeed, cyan. And you waggled your eyebrows at his sputtering. “Yep. Definitely stands for cute.”

Sans laughed and rolled onto his back, ducking into the hood of his jacket to hide his embarrassment. “patience, actually.”

“Oh?” You chased after him, leaning over him and bracing an arm on the other side of his ribcage so you could grin down at his furious blush. “You know Pap would tell you patience is just a fancy word for laziness.”

Sans snickered, the blush fading a little now that you’d had the good grace to turn the conversation to safer topics. “probably. even if...”

“...if nothing could be further from the truth,” you answered along with him, matching his cadence, your eyebrows pinching together in confusion as the words sprang unbidden from your throat. A flash of a frown passed over Sans’ face, his eye lights constricting, but he shrugged it off after a moment of tension.

“guess we know I’ve said that before.”

“Or I have,” you offered, but he shook his head.

“nah. i've said it a few times. thought it a few times. that's a ‘me’ thing.”

You tilted your head to the side and tucked a few fingers into the mitten still holding onto the edge of his hood. You wanted to make sure he could feel your sincerity. “I believe it, too. You work really hard. I don’t know why you let Pap call you lazy all the time.”

Sans’ smile grew soft and fond, and his eye lights fuzzed at the edges. He held your eye for a moment longer before turning to the grand display overhead. “he’s not wrong. usually. he knows when i need a good pick-me-up. not that i'm very heavy. he's the best. i can see why you like him.”

You caught something unsaid in his comment. Well, a few things. Sans never had been very forthcoming with any kind of details about his mental or emotional health, so the pick-me-up comment and the deflecting joke about his weight was probably the closest you'd ever get to him admitting that he struggled with either of those things. But there’s some additional deflection and redirection in there too that makes you want to pin him down and hold his face in your hands and press your feelings for him directly into his soul so he knew, unequivocally, that he was important too. That it isn’t and never will be a competition. That you loved him, that you trusted him, that...

“I like you both,” you clarified instead, and the soft blush across his zygomatic arches returned. “I think you both are great, in your own ways. You’re... a pair. A matched set.”

Sans’ eye lights drifted back to meet your eyes, his expression shifting in the dark. There was something searching and vulnerable in it, so you continued. “You don’t have one without the other. Unless you want to be. But you’re both better when you’re together. You... complete each other. Even if you do drive each other crazy. Humans have a phrase... two sides to the same coin. You’re kindof like that.”

Sans huffed a little laugh and his head rolled into your joined hands. Acting on a whim, you slipped your fingers out of his grip and traced your fingers over his blush until you were cupping his cheek in your palm. Your thumb brushed over the pearlescent pseudo-bone, or whatever bone-like structure his magic was made out of, and he nuzzled into your hand with a sigh.

“Tell me about Patience magic? I want to know more about you.” Sans’ expression was impossibly soft already, but somehow he melted even more into the blanket nest at your prompt.

“heh. uh. alright." He wiggled a little to get comfortable, hands pillowing behind his head. “well. uh. you've probably figured this out, but the soul traits don’t totally match with the modern use of the word. meanings change over time. so patience magic is mostly about opportunity, really. waiting for just the right moment. knowing what the right moment even is.”

You grinned down at him. “Oooooh, so that’s why your comedic timing is so good.”

His lazy wink was so genuine and dazzling, you almost leaned in to kiss the humored crinkle at the corners of his mouth. But you didn’t. “it helps, yeah.”

You rested your head on your shoulder and your smile turned coy. “Is there anything else it helps with?”

His eye lights constricted a fraction, and he traded some of the humor in his smile for intensity. “a few things. opportunities are all over the place, you know. you just gotta know what you’re looking for.”

One of his hands came to rest on the forearm you were using to brace yourself over him. “And what is it that you’re looking for?”

He didn’t answer right away, his eye lights drifting through the endless sea of stars above you with a faraway pensiveness that silently stretched out between you like the blanket of nightfall. “it changes,” he finally murmured. “but i think these days it’s just, uh... the simple life. good friends. bad food. terrible jokes. home. belonging.”

You allowed your hand slide from his cheek down to rest on his ribcage instead, noticing not for the first time just how quiet and still he was without breath or heartbeat. It’s different. But different didn’t have to be negative. Different could be a positive thing too. “Does that mean you don’t feel like you’ve found it yet?”

His eye lights shifted to meet yours, and he winked again after a second of thought. “you don’t ever stop looking for terrible jokes. or bad food. or good friends.”

More unspoken words hiding between the lines. More half-truths and deflection. You’d be a little annoyed with it if you didn’t get the sense that there was something aching terribly in his soul that he was trying desperately to bury. You’d caught little flashes of that cavern in his chest here and there over the past few months of working together about the timeline problem, and you couldn’t help but feel profoundly sad that he’d carried that for so long. It had been years since monsters had come up to the surface. And he was still dealing with it.

So, he could have a little deflection. As a treat.

“I dunno, I think maybe you’ve already learned a lifetime’s worth of terrible jokes,” you teased. And Sans was all too eager to latch onto the ‘out’ you’d offered with both hands.

“no way. a guy can never have too many terrible jokes.”

“Nope. You have too many. How’s anybody supposed to surprise you with a new joke if you already know them all?”

“its not about whether it’s new or not. you can still get a guy with a classic. its about timing, remember? patience?”

Your grin stretched with promises of mischief as your eyes playfully half-lidded. You leaned into his space a little and shifted to cage him in with your arms on either side of him. “You always did like the classics.”

His smile faltered a little as he took in your new position over him and his eye lights constricted a little. “the, uh, kids are calling ‘em ‘vintage’ now.”

You nodded, leaning in a little more. “Vintage, Retro, Nostalgic is another one I’ve heard. I think I like ‘classic’ the best though.”

“yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” You cupped his cheek again, and a quiet thrill rolled through your core at the way his eye lights were starting to dilate and fuzz at the edges. “Can I show you one of my favorite ‘classics’?”

He nodded, sockets wide with anticipation, and shifted to prop himself up on his elbows. His chin tilted up as you closed the distance between you and... redirected at the last second. The hand on his cheek held him still while you blew an impressively loud and wet raspberry on his smooth forehead and then dissolved into a fit of giggles, which only intensified as you caught the shocked, light-less void of his empty sockets staring back at you. It only took a second or two for his eye lights to blink back into existence, and he sat up as you collapsed on his lap laughing.

“what was that?” You tried to wheeze out an apology, but now Sans was shifting to cage you in with a mischeivous glint to his grin. “that’s it? that’s all you’ve got? oh boy. nobody challenges the legendary fart master like that and gets away with it.”

He sucked in a huge breath and smooshed his face into your neck, making you squeal even before anything had happened. But rather than the wet reverberation of a challenging raspberry, the perfect recreation of a squeaky-toy duck quack sounded. Two of them, actually. It was so startling and unexpected that you collapsed into his lap again, a new peal of laughter ringing out into the night.

“oh. uh. geez. wrong one. hang on. let me try again.”

Another huge breath of air, and this time he mashed his face against your cheek. An old-timey car horn AWOOGA’d and you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes with how hard you were laughing. “well that’s just embarrassing. hold on, i got it this time.”

On and on he went, cycling through an entire soundboard’s worth of cartoon gag noises as he “tried” against a dozen different parts of your body until you had to cry ‘uncle’ for the stitch in your side and the way your ribcage was starting to ache. He watched you catch your breath, sweaty and tear-streaked mess that you were, with such fond adoration that it didn’t take long for you to be the one blushing furiously and wiggling deeper into the blanket nest to try to hide your face once your breathing had returned to normal again.

“hey.” You peeked up at him, face aching from the strain of laughing for 10 minutes straight but helpless against the magnetic pull of his easy smile.

“Hey.”

“i think i got one more in me.” He brushed a few strands of hair off of your forehead with a conspiratorial wink. “i’m pretty sure i’m gonna get it right this time.”

Backlit by a billion blazing stars, none of which could ever compare to the way his warm and bright eye lights glittered in the void of his crinkled eye sockets, how could you ever even think to say no? At your murmured assent, he leaned in one more time. A thin, malleable approximation of lips touched yours. You rose up on your elbows to meet him.

And the softest sound slipped between you. You tilted your head to the side to help guide him further in to the moment, and he met your movement with the tentative touch of his mittened hand against the base of your skull. Just as the ribcage your palm slipped across was new in its cool stillness, the lack of breath cascading over your cheeks worried the back of your mind right at about the juncture where his grip was tugging gently at your hair. You had to peek to make sure everything was alright, which was a bit of a feat to accomplish with how close your faces were pressed together. But his sockets were closed and loose, so far as you could tell, and your eyes slipped closed again at the soft sound of satisfaction that bubbled up from his chest.

You weren’t the only one to have the thought to check, though, and after a moment he pulled away to search your face, his eye lights bright and fuzzy. “your breathing tickles.”

You snickered, leaning in to nuzzle him tenderly. “Distracted much?”

“kinda!” He snickered in return and teasingly pinched your nose. You batted his hand away and pressed a kiss to his teeth.

“You like it.”

He leaned in, chasing after you with a low noise of disappointment when you pulled away. “dunno. might need to try it again.”

You hummed thoughtfully, pressing your forehead to his with a teasing smile. “Need more data before you can determine correlation or causation?”

“a good scientist… something something, c’mere~” It was maybe a little bit hard to kiss you while you were laughing, even with both of his hands cradling your face and pulling you back in to him, but Sans was grinning without complaint too. And you decided, then, that quite possibly your very favorite feeling in the world was the sensation of your smile dancing with his. And you two danced.

And danced.

As do all things, the silent song under the stars eventually faded and you peppered his face with little freckles of kisses before pestering him to set up the telescope. He told you the story of how he used to prank people underground with it while he pulled it out of its box and set it up, and he told you about the wishing stones he used to point it towards while finding something to point it towards in the new expanse of endless sky.

He actually whooped with excitement when he found Saturn, and the two of you spent nearly an hour taking turns looking at it through his telescope and talking about what you could see. What you couldn’t see. The icy moons and the satellites that had visited it. You had terrible cell reception but you managed to grab some articles from the internet, and you took turns reading them out loud to each other while looking at the planet. Sharing pictures and ideas and theories.

Sans had a blast pointing his telescope in every direction he could for another hour after that, but nothing had been quite as cool or exciting as being able to see Saturn and it’s rings. Flashes of light were beginning to streak across the sky more quickly than they had been in the hours prior. One every 10 minutes or so. And Sans, having satisfied his need for adventure for one night, finally put away the telescope and joined you in the nest again so you could watch for meteors.

You snuggled up to his side and he looped an arm around you, both of you feeling a lot more snuggly in the increasing cool of the midnight hour. His magic was back, now. Inexplicable softness to his form filling out his sleeves and his shirt again, making him extra snuggly to cuddle.

And if, between the flashes of light streaking across the sky, your lips wanted to cuddle too, then who were you to fight the siren song of his cheek and jaw?

Sans giggled as you tickled your way, with feather-light kisses, over his jawline until you met his teeth. He answered your bid for affection with one of his own, gently nuzzling you and pulling you closer so he could do so properly. A contented sigh ghosted over his face and he snorted, shaking his head at the tickling dance of breath rolling over his bones. It was adorable, and endearing, and you took his cheeks in your hands so you could kiss his forehead.

“Sans?”

“mmm?”

You kissed his forehead again, and then pulled away to search his hazy eye lights. “Is this ok?”

“mm?” The crests over his eye sockets knit together in confusion. “uh… yeah? why? ‘s something wrong?”

You nuzzled him again, but resisted the urge to follow it up with a kiss. “You we’re just… weirded out by the whole past-relationship-in-another-time thing. And you freaked out a little when I accidentally did the soul connection thing. I dunno. I just want to make sure this is something you want and not something I’m like… pressuring you into?”

He shook his head and buried his face into your hands further. “nah. it was weird at first. just… uh, nerves, i guess. cold feet. happened kinda fast. but i get it now.”

You tipped your head to the side and waited for him to continue. It took him a moment to think about things, and eventually he added, “it just, uh, was hard to wrap my head around. one day we were on equal footing, then the next it was like a switch flipped. i couldn’t get how you could just suddenly trust somebody so much. much less a guy like me. but the timelines, you know. it makes logical sense, but that still didn’t make it feel right. just, uh, took me a little time. to get it. get how it happened. and why. get how real it was for you. that it wasn’t just a fluke you’d forget too. since you didn’t forget, and since it was… is real for you. i dunno. guess… it started to grow on me. it’s nice. you’re nice. and being with you is nice. and it just keeps being nice. i want to be with you more, no matter if we spend five minutes or five hours together, and i think that means it might be worth giving all this a try. once i got that, then… everything else was just… easy. natural. it’s easy being with you, and i like how it makes me feel.”

You blushed as he spoke and ducked your head a little, but you still kept your hands on his face with a shy smile. When he was finished you touched your lips to his teeth, and sat up.

Touched your fingertips to your sternum.

And then… you pulled.

Sans’ eye lights vanished from his sockets as the intensity of color from your purple soul sucked the color right out of everything else around you. It floated between you, and your hand hovered underneath it instinctively even though it was perfectly happy to float there all by itself.

“You don’t have to. I don’t ever want you to feel pressured to do anything, ever, for any reason. But I trust you with my soul. I have for a while, now.”

Sans’ eye lights dropped to your soul, wide and fuzzy, and he wheezed a little. Coughed. Wheezed again. Then laughed, a boyish smile shyly playing across his face.

“really?”

You nodded, and he carefully slipped his mittens off. His bare phalanges cupped under your soul, and he looked at it with just as much reverence as he’d regarded the stars. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, and you nodded towards your soul to make sure he knew he had your express permission to touch, if he wanted to. His eye lights dropped back down to your soul and his hands inched a little closer, surrounding your soul so closely all it would take is the faintest movement for him to brush the surface.

But after a long moment, he relaxed his grip and his hands fell away. Sans sighed, leaning in but not touching.

“i want to. your soul is breathtaking. i want this. but… i… can’t do the same. it wouldn’t be fair to you. i want this, and i want to try this. us. being an ‘us’ instead of just a ‘you and i.’ but i can’t offer you this. my soul. yet. maybe… maybe ever. it’s… it’s complicated.”

His face scrunched with regret and disappointment, and his expression so vulnerably begged for understanding in the glow of your soul. You really wanted to leap across the space between you and crush him to your chest and pour into him every assurance that you didn’t care if he couldn’t do the same. Yet, or ever. That you still cared about him and loved him and wanted to share yourself with him. All of yourself. And that it was ok if he wasn’t there yet. Maybe… maybe in another time he could be ready. And maybe this was the only time you’d ever get, and that was ok too.

What you actually did was take his hands in yours and cup them around your soul again, but with your grip steady and firm under his phalanges and metacarpals keeping his hands from escaping. His eyes grew wide again as you brought his hands closer to the Purple Heart floating between you, stopping just before touching once again.

“I respect your decision,” you quietly responded. “But I need you to understand that I don’t ask for anything from you because I need it paid back. You don’t owe me anything. You never have, and you never will. You don’t have to do anything you aren’t ready for, but I’m not offering this with my fingers crossed that it’ll somehow change the power balance here. I’m offering because I love you. I’m offering because I want you to know me and know how much I trust you. No other reason. And if that changes your mind, I want you to know that tonight, or any other night, the offer is still open.”

Sans pulled in a shaky breath and let it slowly slide out from between his teeth. His eye lights were so impossibly huge in his sockets, so warm and fuzzy, you were half expecting to see a little moisture collecting in the corners. They slid down to look at your soul again, almost painfully vibrant in the inky night, and he sighed.

“not… not tonight. it hurts, how much i want to. but i wouldn’t feel right about it. maybe… soon, though. i just need to feel less, uh, like it’s going to change things if you can’t hold mine too. that’s just going to take some think time. it’s not you, it’s me. you know?”

You nodded again and gently released your hold on his hands, the pair of them falling away from your soul as it returned to your chest. You tugged him to you as you nestled back into the blankets again, your eyes adjusting to the dark over the next few minutes of comfortable silence. He settled under your arm, and the two of you fell asleep under the flashing streaks of falling stars.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[The Moment That You Knew :: What CNN’s disastrous town hall showed us.]

CHARLIE SYKES :: MAY 11, 2023

Even the folks at CNN seemed to recognize how bad it was. “It’s hard to see how America was served by the spectacle of lies that aired on CNN Wednesday evening,” Oliver Darcy, the network’s senior media reporter wrote in CNN’s Reliable Sources newsletter. “It felt like 2016 all over again. It was Trump’s unhinged social media feed brought to life on stage.”

But let’s be clear about this: last night was not Kaitlan Collins’s fault. The decision to amplify Trump’s firehose of disinformation on live television doomed the whole thing from start. As Mehdi Hasan writes today, the “ridiculous town hall format and an audience seemingly recruited ‘from the Mar-a-Lago parking lot’, put its own anchor in a position to fail.”

Her bosses at CNN should have known that, but they made it clear last night that they had learned nothing. Or simply didn’t care.

Increasingly, Chris Licht is to CNN what Elon Musk is to Twitter.

The network’s defenses for all of this are bullsh*t on the surface. Of course, CNN needs to “cover” and report on the frontrunning GOP candidate. He’s news.

But this was not journalism we saw on CNN last night: this was entertainment programming, the kind of reality television show that did so much to foist Trump onto the body politic. He owned last night’s format.

In a different format, Collins could have performed a flagrant act of journalism. She could have done an in-depth taped interview with the former president, the sort that Jonathan Swan has done. She could have been given the chance to ask detailed follow-up questions, like Mehdi Hasan might do. CNN could have edited the responses, rather than simply air one lie after another.

Instead, well, you saw it… (via Rex Hupke):

Sexual abuse, like the kind a jury just found Trump liable of? That’s a laugh line for these folks. Literally. They laughed during CNN’s town hall as Trump continued to likely defame E. Jean Carroll, the woman he was just found liable of defaming.

The Jan. 6 domestic terrorist attack on the U.S. Capitol? Trump said he’ll swiftly pardon most of the now-imprisoned attackers, possibly even some of the Proud Boys who were convicted of seditious conspiracy, because they’re “great people.” And that brought applause from the crowd.

A rat-a-tat-tat string of lies about the “rigged election”? The crowd chuckled.

A lie about “finishing” the border wall he barely started? You know, the one Mexico didn’t pay for. The crowd applauded.

Lie, lie, lie, lie, lie. Laugh, applaud, chuckle, clap, cheer.

This was the moment we knew.

We knew who Trump was of course. But last night showed us who we are and what’s about to happen. This is the GOP frontrunner.

He is still the star who can do anything. And it will get worse.

“Listen,” wrote author Jared Yates Sexton, “if this town hall is any indication, and I think it is, the Trump Campaign of 2024 is going to be infinitely more disturbing and upsetting. I've spent a lot of time studying this man and his movement. I'm stunned by the depths here. This is . . . awful.”

[on-poetry]

On Sound in Poetry

I’ve been writing monthly newsletters for poetry and fiction writers at Writers.com, and wanted to share the below from December’s newsletter with y’all ❤️

Poetry Recommendation: "The Sciences Sing a Lullaby" by Albert Goldbarth

Retrieved from Poets.org.

Physics says: go to sleep. Of course you're tired. Every atom in you has been dancing the shimmy in silver shoes nonstop from mitosis to now. Quit tapping your feet. They'll dance inside themselves without you. Go to sleep.

Geology says: it will be all right. Slow inch by inch America is giving itself to the ocean. Go to sleep. Let darkness lap at your sides. Give darkness an inch. You aren't alone. All of the continents used to be one body. You aren't alone. Go to sleep

Astronomy says: the sun will rise tomorrow, Zoology says: on rainbow-fish and lithe gazelle, Psychology says: but first it has to be night, so Biology says: the body-clocks are stopped all over town and History says: here are the blankets, layer on layer, down and down.

This delightful, imaginative poem has so much happening at both the language and structural levels. At the language level, the poem sings like a lullaby, reconfiguring the natural world as metaphors for wakefulness. Don't you just love the phrase "dancing the shimmy in silver shoes"? I can even see my genes tap dancing their way into new cells as they split down the center. And those final two lines, their cadence and rhyme, tuck me so quietly into bed, I'm about to fall asleep writing this sentence.

At the structural level, the play with the sciences both scaffolds the poem and helps connect the universal to the particular. If the poem didn't have the "[science] says" anaphora at play, the poem could still function beautifully on its own. But the poem here is making science intimate. It's saying: even something as private as falling asleep echoes throughout the sciences. It is no different than the shifting of tectonic plates, the motion of the Earth, or the circadian rhythms of fish, gazelle, and atoms inside your cells. There's something comforting about how this poem connects our lonely lives to the world around us, so much so that science, clinical and impersonal as it seems, agrees.

(Also, it's no mistake that the final "science" is actually a field in the humanities. What do you think the speaker means by equating history with science?)

Many great poems connect the personal to the universal in both linguistic and structural ways. How can you play with structure in your own poetry to achieve this? This month, try writing a poem about something outside of yourself—the sciences, the arts, smells, colors, the oceans, the gridded streets of Savannah, GA, the Fibonacci sequence, etc. Help us understand one another through something outside of, but not disconnected from, ourselves.

Notes from "Sound Clusters" by Gregory Orr

Poetry is a sonic art. We cannot expect to move or delight the reader—or ourselves!—if we aren't carefully attuned to the possibilities of sound in language. Many of the best poets use sound to replicate the topics and emotions of their poetry, and no study of verse is complete without understanding tools like consonance & assonance, euphony & cacophony, percussive consonants, sibilance, meter, rhyme, and even the effects of long versus short vowels.

Take, for example, Albert Goldbarth's poem above. The poem uses sound like a lullaby does, with sounds that shush, soothe, slow, lilt, and murmur. Few words, if any, in the poem are loud and percussive. There's no cracking, no explosive plosive, no whips or pows or words that strike the reader.

Conversely, take this excerpt from “Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Samuel Taylor Coleridge:

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, agape they heard me call.

This is an example of cacophony—notice all the hard k and g sounds jostling against one another. The effect is language that's deliberately loud and in your face. Lyrical, certainly, though not altogether pleasant.

Attunement to language's sounds and possibilities is a lifelong study for any poet. A great place to start is to read poetry aloud. Words spoken only in our heads lack dimension: they have no shape, no space, no material reality. When we speak a poem, we slow ourselves down, allowing language to occupy our bodies, to be felt where we need to feel it.

Here's Gregory Orr's essay, which includes a craft exercise for all poets: https://www.pw.org/content/sound_clusters

And, here are some resources on using sound in poetry:

https://writers.com/literary-devices-in-poetry

https://writers.com/what-is-form-in-poetry

https://writers.com/onomatopoeia-definition-and-examples

[solradguy]

i don't know if you're still accepting character asks but if you are; testament

Testament? More like BESTament AYYYYYY. When Testament was announced for Strive, I was listening to a lot of Testament the band at the time. It felt like I’d summoned them haha 

💀 Overall opinion of them:

I gotta admit that I wasn't really interested in Testament until they got added in Strive. Their original design isn't something that usually appeals to me, but I love their Strive redesign a lot!! It's cool seeing them back again, and that they're happy with themselves too. As a fellow LGBT humanoid, any LGBT character getting a good ending is instantly a favorite for me. Guilty Gear having at least TWO (3, if you count the Justice mistranslation) nonbinary characters right from the start with Testament and Baiken back in friggin 1998 is so goddamn cool. Even if Daisuke didn't know the correct terms for everything back then he still at least tried. Thank you Daisuke and ArcSys 🙏

💀 Gender/sexuality headcanons:

Testament is musei, which I think the ArcSys English team decided to translate to agender? I’ve never thought about what their sexuality might be though...hmm... Other than a few close friends, it kinda feels like they enjoy being alone. Maybe they’re aro/ace or demisexual? 

💀 Favorite moment in canon:

Strive reveal trailer with their new design 😩💖💖

I hope we get the bit of lore where Testament realizes they’re not under Justice’s control anymore and can have hobbies and a life of their own again. That would be really nice. 

💀 Favorite line, in canon or otherwise:

Ahh... A lot of Testament’s dialog is just like “DIE MONSTER I HATE YOU” until Strive... Their intro dialog in a mirror match in Strive is pretty good though:

(P2) "You there, arms up a bit. It's more graceful."

(P1) "Is that so? I was just thinking lower would be better."

💀 Characters I love seeing them interact with:

DIZZZYYYYYY. I think Testament would get along with Ky pretty well too. Maybe the three of them have regular tea dates together? It would be cool if Testament and post-Strive Sol got to have a conversation and work out their differences too. Testament seems to have/had a lot of resentment towards Sol because he was close with Kliff while Testament kinda got pulled out of the picture when the whole Justice thing went down. 

💀 Last thing before sleeping headcanons:

Testament’s been confirmed as being a bubble bath enjoyer so they definitely take nice long pre-bed bubbly baths when they have the time too, with music, candles, tea, and a book. The whole shebang, ya know? When they don’t have time for a bubble bath, they still have a pretty lengthy nightly beauty routine. There isn’t a place in this meme template to put it so I’m gonna put it here haha I like the imagine that one of Testament’s hobbies is making their own clothes. One of their hobbies is confirmed embroidery and a few of the others are pretty crafty too. Maybe before bed Testament enjoys browsing fashion boards for outfit inspiration ideas and has a scrapbook of ideas they’d like to try out some day. 

💀 Sleeping habits headcanons:

Probably Testament has a pretty standard bed (though one with a huge canopy) and sleeps like a normal person would, but Gears are FREAKY and I think it would be much funnier if they slept hanging from the ceiling by their feet or something wild like that. 

💀 First thing after waking up headcanons: 

Morning tea, absolutely. Then breakfast. I think Testament enjoys trying new recipes when they can so if they aren’t in a hurry that day, they try something different each morning. Testament feels like the type who would subscribe to all kinds of different topics of newsletters, several of which are from recipe/cooking sites. They have neatly hand-written index cards of recipes they tried and liked that they bring out when guests come over. 

💀 Favorite locations headcanon:

Out in nature for sure, but mostly resting by streams in forests or in the shade on a beach where they can catch up on reading and planning new projects or trips. They don’t like the mountains as much because it’s too windy that high up and it makes it hard to keep the right page open in their book. 

[gra-sonas]

IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME

VLAMBASE, We've dropped new merch annnnd Malex has finally moved in together!!! Both were long overdue. I wish we had an infinite amount of seasons to see where our love goes, but season 4 is indeed the last. While it's been one hell of a ride, the journey wouldn't have been half as enjoyable without all of you. And I mean that. I don't want to get too sappy, but the amount of fun I've had interacting with all of you over the years leaves a smile on my face. I'm so proud of how we've come together as a community over our shared love of Roswell. You've taught me, inspired me, and supported me every step of the way. And while I haven't been as active on social media lately (I've been directing my first feature film), I've thought about you often, especially as my partner, Jesa Joy, and I were designing this new line of merch.

This latest drop is full of custom died garments. The colors feel mature and elevated just like Malex's love for one another. A big challenge for my character over the years has been self acceptance and I finally feel he's at a place worthy of not only a partner's love, but his own love. I thought about and felt this deeply as we designed the "unlovable" collection. The embroidered cursive is my handwriting and the "un" is faded out since it's time we accept the love we deserve and deem ourselves lovable. The words on the sleeve of this design read: "cosmic love requires loving one's self" and I hope it serves as a gentle reminder to all of us every time we need it. The rest of the collection falls under a similar category and is also representative of where our characters are headed: home. I hope you enjoy all the care and detail we put into each design. And because you've always been so generous to me, I'm including more BTS in this newsletter than I ever have before...

New Michael Vlamis newsletter!

Shop all items of the BOUT DAMN TIME drop at ➡️michaelvlamis.com (the shop will stay open until June 27th, still be quick as some items are limited)

[solatgif]

TGIF: Roundup for November 18, 2022

Do you have a plan for Advent? This holiday season, join SOLA Network on Substack. I’ll send you a free daily devotion to help prepare your heart for Christmas.

What church models are unique to the Asian American Church? In Two Churches, One Campus, Daniel K. Eng interviews “Townhouse” Church Pastors Michael Lee and David D. Lee. For more, find over 30 videos in our new YouTube playlist: The Asian American Church.

This newsletter is one of the many ways you can keep in touch with us. Find us on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. For more, check out my Asian American Worship Leaders Facebook group and TGIF Playlist on Spotify. You can reach me on Twitter and Instagram.

Enter to win this excellent book! Read my review. Special thanks to P&R for sponsoring our giveaway, presented in partnership with my newsletters for @diveindigdeep and FCBC Walnut.

Articles From Around The Web

Ashley Kim: Homesick College Student, the Lord Sees You

“My relationship with God doesn’t strip away the significance of my relationships but rather strengthens and deepens the love I share with brothers and sisters in Christ.”

Daniel K. Eng: What is a Bible Dictionary and How Do I Use It?

“While the text of the Bible is inspired by God, it was written by particular people in a specific culture who wrote to particular people in a specific culture.”

Daryl R. Ireland: On the Streets of China, the Cross Shone Bright

“Chinese Christian posters boldly proclaimed salvation, freedom, and hope amid a tumultuous political period.”

Do you have a plan for Advent? This holiday season, join SOLA Network on Substack. I’ll send you a free daily devotion to help prepare your heart for Christmas.

Books, Podcasts, Music, And More

FCBC Walnut: Consumerism and Church Commitment

I discuss with my friend Leslie about our motives in content creation, and the relationship between consumerism and church commitment.

DesiringGod: Let the Nations Be Glad! — Thirty Years Later

“There are thousands of peoples, and the Bible talks about them. And missions is reaching all those peoples.”

Aaron Lee: Related Works

Book Reviews: The Glorious Feast of the Gospel by Richard Sibbes, This World is Not My Home by Mark G. Johnston, The Word from the Beginning by Bruce G. Schuchard. Listen to our TGIF playlist on Spotify. Join my Asian American Worship Leaders Facebook group.

Subscribe to our podcast for our interviews, messages, and article reads! Available for free on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and YouTube.

Featured This Week On SOLA Network

Lisa Wong: Where Do Kids Belong In Church?

“Children’s ministers and directors must do the hard work of prayerful collaboration with worship service leaders, congregants, parents, and kids in order to disciple the next generation.”

Aaron Lee: A Message of Hope: A Book Review of “Shame” by Esther Liu

“Does shame cast a dark shadow over your life? Then you should check out Shame by Esther Liu. In less than 100 pages, this 31-day devotional explains what it means to be truly known and loved. The book will renew your mind and reshape your heart in regards to countering shame.”

Daniel K. Eng: Two Churches, One Campus: An Interview with “Townhouse” Church Pastors

Michael Lee (All Nations Community Church) and David D. Lee (Ekklesia Atlanta Christian Fellowship) on how their congregations formed and their relationships with their mother churches, pros and cons of being on the same campus as their mother churches, and encouragements for pastors with English-speaking congregations.

Fred Mok: The Hardest Question for Pastors and Church Planters

“I’m a middle-aged man with my dream job and satisfying relationships. And yet like my pimply teenage self, I still care deeply about what people think of me. The line between my job and my worth as a person is very blurry. The question of how church is going can be as innocent as I want to make it.”

TGIF: Roundup for November 11, 2022

Don’t Be a Slave to Academic Achievement / Why Do Chinese People See Christianity as a Cultural Invasion? / Did God Hear Me? Where He Was When My Sister Died / On Delighting in Biblical Theology / Ministry in Silicon Valley

General disclaimer: Our link roundups are not endorsements of the positions or lives of the authors.

[greatpeanutsstorylines]

Snow Leagues

Dates: November 26 - December 8, 1973

Synopsis: Charlie Brown is flabbergasted by the new phenomenon of regulated snowman building as a sport, or “Snow Leagues.”

“Snow Leagues” begins with Charlie Brown building a snowman. Linus tells him that “from now on, all snowmen have to be made under adult supervision” and hands him… a printed press release, I guess?

Charlie Brown reads it, and he knows the world’s gone crazy. He exclaims: “PLAYOFFS?!”

As it turns out, the other kids are just letting this scam roll over them: Sally’s on a team called the “Silver Flakes.” It sounds brutal, but it’s the only way to be allowed to build a snowman under the adults’ wicked regime.

Lucy’s super into it, because she’s a sucker for bells and whistles like recognition and an internal newsletter. She’s going to love having a corporate job. When told that they “have a newsletter,” CB gets in this sick dig:

Even wise, circumspect Linus is all-in on the adult-controlled version of snowman building.

Gamification: 1, Linus: 0.

(Also, this thing is already global:)

Sally comes home angry because of a bad referee call: improper mittens.

(By the way, Charlie Brown was looking straight to camera to react to another character’s nonsense decades before most of your faves.)

As if that isn't enough, Linus then tells Charlie Brown that he can’t come over to watch TV tonight because his parents are leaving for a “Snow Leaguers” party. This prompts another great Charlie Brown line:

Charlie Brown said, “LIFE IS TOO SHORT FOR THIS SHIT” in a beautiful, topical, prescient metaphor, which I’m reading as being muttered under his breath juuuust loud enough for Linus to hear? King.

After a standard Sunday break, the "Snow Leagues" storyline returned on December 3:

Sally has to file for $10,000 insurance coverage in case a snowman falls on her. Later, she chews out a referee for another bad call:

(Is it the same referee as before? Who knows!)

Anyway, Charlie Brown is losing sleep over all this insanity.

Charlie Brown taking the weight of the world onto his shoulders when no one asked him to is an essential and sometimes overlooked aspect of the character. He can be passive about some things, and he can be self-centered, but he really means well and gets worked up over the state of the world and how it affects the people he loves.

He's a future doomscroller for sure.

As we enter the final three strips of the “Snow Leagues” storyline, Charlie Brown is still lying awake when he decides to engage in an act of protest: "sneak[ing] out into [his] backyard to build a snowman without adult supervision."

He asks Snoopy to help him out, but he’s obviously too lazy.

I love Charlie Brown's smile here — not only is he excited about being rebellious, he’s letting his best friend (the most rebellious dude he knows) in on the fun.

Charlie Brown is acting in the spirit of protest, which is fierce! Children have rights, and having fun without being exploited, including by their parents, is one of them!

But it's not just about that for Good Old Charlie Brown. In the final strip of the series, we find him feeling a bit smug the next morning:

Charlie Brown didn't just want to fight for his friends' right to have fun; he also wanted to prove himself to them. Very Charlie Brown of him.

Anyway, the other kids are over it now, anyway:

A little bowling humor to round out the story.

The way the “Snow Leagues” storyline ends is quintessential Peanuts to me. Where A Charlie Brown Christmas ends on a hopeful note, with the other kids seeing things Charlie Brown’s way and surprising him by sprucing up his tree, this one ends with the other kids completely unmoved by Charlie Brown’s perspective or his subversive actions. Charlie Brown’s value system has lost a culture war, and that’s actually kind of devastating, but we have to laugh at it to survive.

“Snow Leagues” is one of my favorite Peanuts storylines. It’s satirical, on a level that’s accessible to younger readers and poignant to older readers, and funny to both. It could have been milked to run much longer; I can easily imagine Peppermint Patty, Marcie, Franklin, and Schroeder getting in on the fun. But it’s short and sweet, it’s super memorable (like, it’s literally the first Peanuts storyline I thought to cover) and it has a clear point of view.

One of the many, many properties that’s often pointed to as an example of Peanuts influence is, believe it or not, South Park, and I see it in this storyline, where a contemporary reality of childhood is satirized for comedic effect. Of course, South Park would certainly play the adult perspective on this situation for laughs, and while Peanuts has occasionally let adults be seen and/or heard, the audience never, ever experiences an adult character’s perspective. Unless you count Charles Schulz’ perspective permeating every aspect of the strip...

Subscribe for more Great Peanuts Storylines.

View the full strips at GoComics.

[sunnydaleherald]

The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Wednesday, August 30

WILLOW: Something evil crashed to earth in this and then broke out and ... slithered away to do badness. GILES: In all fairness, we don't really know about the slithered part. ANYA: Oh, no. I'm sure it frisked about like a fluffy lamb.

~~BtVS 5x09 — Listening to Fear~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Take Me As I Am (Pt. 5) (Joyce/Angel, M) by madeingold

Double Drabble: Falling Apart (Buffy, Angel/Angelus, PG) by badly_knitted

Tom F'ing Bombadil (Buffy, not rated, LotR/Hobbit xover) by Liloldme

[Chaptered Fiction]

Among the Echoes, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Dutchess Did It

The Plunge, Chapter 19 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Harlow Turner

The Nips!, Chapter 7 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Desicat

Summers on the Hellmouth, Chapter 21 (Buffy, Stargate xover, FR13) by mmooch

Supporting Natasha Romanoff (And Iron Man too), Chapter 45 (Willow/Natasha Romanoff, Marvel crossover, FR18) by NobodyAtAll

August Fic-A-Day 2023, Chapter 30 (Buffy, FR13, Harry Potter xover) by LadyWinterlight

Part of the Family, Chapter 16 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Harlow Turner

I Do!, Chapter 15 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Dusty

Blood and Black Lace, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, R) by SlayrGrl

The Alphabet of Spuffy, Chapter 29 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by VeroNyxK84

The Other Side of the Door, Chapter 13 (Buffy/Spike, M) by myrabeth

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: Faith my best friend Faith my silly rabbit my poor little meow meow my idiot chief in command (worksafe) by bugaboooooooooo

Artwork: sneaking late night shots in s7 (Spuffy, worksafe) by sundayroadkill

Artwork: Slow dancing under the moon and stars (Spuffy, worksafe) by sanshofox

Artwork: Hey. You there. (Illyria, worksafe) by fallinginaforrest

Artwork: Me beebs beebin’ (Spuffy, worksafe) by isevery0nehereverystoned

Artwork: Drusilla kills Kendra, from Buffy. Watercolour on paper. (worksafe) by ghostrabbit87

Artwork: Sometimes “The Big Bad” is just a babygirl male-wife who gets chained to bathtubs (Spike, worksafe) by keelifallen

Artwork: This is Darla and the stray she found on the side of the road (worksafe) by madeleinelovescolours

Artwork: I’ve rewatched buffy over 4 times and I still can’t get over them (Spuffy, worksafe) by pocketsizedann

Art: BTVS 513. Blood Ties (CW: Self Harm) by tmcarlee

[Reviews & Recaps]

We’re gonna start rewatching season three of Buffy tonight by andhumanslovedstories

About “Reptile Boy” and Giles's role by the-elusive-soleil

I Only Have Eyes For You isn’t a perfect episode by coraniaid

The Buffy Re-watch: S2E7 (part 2) by jvstheworld

The Buffy Re-Watch: S2E8 (part 1) by jvstheworld

The Buffy Re-watch: S2E8 (part 2) by jvstheworld

[Recs]

Fic rec: Cordy/Angel ‘Undercover as a Couple’ recced by cangelgifs

[Fandom Discussions]

I love a lot of the BtVS f/f pairings for Buffy, but one I don’t feel like I talk about enough (Cordelia/Buffy) by spangelmybeloved

I’m still not over the fact that Willow was living rent free in Buffy’s house by mariepv

Observation about the difference between canon and fanon: Angel / Angelus in I Only Have Eyes For You by coraniaid

Time for some random late night thought dumps on my recent insane Buffy/Oz fascination. by gh-0-stcup

Whedon decided Boreanaz could carry a spin-off show in large part thanks to his performances as Angelus by coraniaid

Healthy codependency by girl4music

I have to talk a little bit about Cousin Beth portrayed by Amy Adams by girl4music

You’ve also got to love the blatant connection between witchcraft and lesbianism by girl4music

“She can’t even see Spike” by girl4music

Look what they did to Charles Gunn! by look-how-they-massacred-them

About the Key plotline: the line “the monks made her out of me” is suddenly really interesting by thepunkmuppet

there actually is something to angel and buffy in season 3 by brymnxt2jhnnycsh

in my three year old mind, these were the most prominent episodes to the point that i remembered them all the way until i did a rewatch by caliburn-the-sword

The fact that the trio is playing DnD when Warren suggests they “become supervillains” is really telling by still-nix-d-goffic

three episodes of buffy that I just cannot really watch properly for different reasons by variousqueerthings

In the universe where fuffy happens sometime after btvs by hersterical

I’d like to think this was Buffy’s fated death by still-nix-d-goffic

I believe an evil person or entity can change based on the environment they are in. And I don’t think the “soul” has anything to do with it. by girl4music

the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them (Illyria) by stellernorth

We all get that Oz was raped, right? by gh-0-stcup

Classic Buffy available on Hulu! (differences between SD and HD versions) by TheMaster666

The Season of the Many Love Triangles by thetopher

Redefinition - Inner Monologue by Priceless

Spike exposing Riley may have had it selfish intentions but he did the right thing by Buffy, she needed to know. by sushibananawater

What was The Mayor’s endgame? by stupidhrfmichael

Watcher & their Slayer. Who'd win? Giles & Buffy (season 7) vs Wesley & Faith (Angel season 4) by Almighty_Push91

In which season/episode does the Buffy-Spike-thing start? by Mysterious-Lychee98

Fan Heaven: The moment my heart grows three sizes! by AerieSignal1001

I would have loved to see Vamp Willow using her hacking skills somehow. by Waarm

Are the Buffy Season 8 comics/graphic novels worth hunting down? by dmstafford

What were the funniest episodes of Buffy? by classified12345

It Still Stings: The Mistreatment of Women on Joss Whedon’s 'Angel' by ssensibility

Most Hated Character in Buffy The Vampire Slayer Part 2 by Khalesssi_Slayer1

Most Hated Character On Buffy The Vampire Slayer Part 3 by Khalesssi_Slayer1

The Most Hated Character From Buffy The Vampire Slayer Part 4 by Khalesssi_Slayer1

Buffy's Claddagh Ring And Bite Mark by Khalesssi_Slayer1

Clare Kramer / Glory by electrical_storm83

[Articles, Interviews, and Other News]

CONVENTION: James Marsters to Attend Comic Con Scotland Aberdeen, 23-24 March 2024 via James Marsters News

CONVENTION: Juliet Landau will be joining James Marsters at Comic Con Scotland Aberdeen, March 23-24, 2024! via James Marsters News

PUBLICATION: Channeling Magic and Progression: Willow Rosenberg in Buffy the Vampire Slayer by The Rose Gold Boudoir

PUBLICATION: It Still Stings: The Mistreatment of Women on Joss Whedon’s Angel by Gillian Bennett / Paste Magazine

PUBLICATION: Cowboy Versus Outlaw: Buffy and Faith and Good Girl, Bad Girl Tropes by Remarkist Community

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