#but here i am with a silly little space frog drawing

[groovylittleclown]

I struggle with drawing, I can't seem to visualize what I want to make, and I can never seem to flow with it like other people can.

I still like it!! It's very fun whenever I do draw! I mainly draw my persona, because that's easy for me. My little frog is something that I have quite a lot of fun drawing! I do feel a bit bad I can't seem to get anything else super well, but I also haven't been practicing.

Anyway, this was a very long winded way to say I did a draw!!

I was in the mood to just doodle, but I didn't know what to draw! So I turned to my frog and my interests as of late! I've been wickedly addicted to space for the past few weeks! I downloaded 16 astronaut skins on Minecraft and just gave them all different names and personalities. And I've been staring at my little alien project.

Blah blah space infodump, blah blah deep meaningful drawing meaning, blah blah bedtime. Hehehe!!

Edit with the version I like more:

[capsironunderoos]

Please, Come Home

DINCEMBER - December 11 - “Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)”

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) x Reader

Summary: Din takes a job just before Life Day and wakes up to a message from his family.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: A ~lil~ spice, if you really, really squint... other than that just a really angsty Din Djarin, and sad times spent apart from his cyare.

Author’s Note: I’m slowly catching up on my Dincember prompts! Tomorrow is my last day in the classroom before Christmas break, so I’ll be able to really catch up soon. Again, this is pretty short, but I hope you guys enjoy!

Here’s the previous prompt: DINCEMBER - December 9 - “Let It Snow”

And the link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

It’s quiet on the Crest tonight, somber almost. 

Din hasn’t had a moment like this to himself for too many rotations to count, so he sits in the pilot’s seat, the Crest on autopilot, arms crossed and helmet-clad head leaned back onto the headrest as he watches the stars pass by. 

He’s been by himself for a few weeks now, but he doesn’t find the same peace in it that he used to. 

Before you, and the child, he longed for moments spent on his ship, amongst the stars to just… be. 

Now, he finds more peace when he’s sitting in his cabin with you and the child, snuggled up on the couch and under blankets as you quietly read aloud. 

Over the past few months, Din had started to take less odd jobs. You’d both been saving credits for awhile so that the two of you could take a break, spend some time with Grogu, and see a little bit more of the galaxy. 

This was his last big job for awhile, and he’d been tasked to hunt down a prince who had made a run for it during the middle of his own wedding ceremony. 

Din had wanted to turn it down at first, because he hadn’t been presented with any leads or a tracking fob, and he knew that the job posed the possibility of running into his family’s Life Day celebrations. 

You had encouraged him to take it, though, telling him that as soon as he returned you would have the bags packed and the three of you could embark on your adventure. 

Plus, the reward for the safe return of the prince had been very steep, and neither of you could think of a reason to pass that up. 

Over the weeks you’d been separated, Din had been receiving and sending holograms to you and the child. 

Some of them were silly, as you were often interrupted by Grogu impatiently jumping into the hologram to show his papa a new drawing he had made, or to model a new robe you had bought for him in the small marketplace just below the cabin. 

Some of the holograms were short but sweet, consisting of you giving Din a brief recap of your day, or of Din telling you good morning and that he loved you. 

Others were reserved for late, dark nights on the Crest, when Din missed you so much that he was forced to work with the videos you sent specifically for his eyes only. 

There were also one or two transmissions that he hated to think about. 

You had sent one to him late one night as he slept, when he knew you should have been resting as well, crying silently in your shared bedroom. You told him how much you missed him, how hard your day had been, and how all you wanted was to crawl into bed beside him and have him tell you everything would be okay. 

When he watched the message the next morning he found himself crying as well, finally acknowledging the fact that being apart for so long was taking its toll on the both of you. 

Unfortunately, he was unsure as to how much longer he would need to be away before he could return home, and just as he had suspected, Life Day had arrived in the blink of an eye. 

So, he sits now, in the pilot’s seat of the Crest, watching the stars as he awaits your transmission. 

He knows there is one coming, because Grogu will beg to show Din the new toys he had opened up, as if you and Din hadn’t been the ones to buy them. 

He smiles at the thought, knowing that he is waiting solely because you decided to spoil the child this Life Day, as if he wasn’t already spoiled enough. 

It would take at least an hour for him to open all of his presents, if not longer. 

Din finds himself laughing at the thought of Grogu becoming more enamored with the wrapping paper than the toy itself, as he had done in the past, and he can see the frustration, and love, written on your face as a result. 

At that thought, he feels a soft pang in his chest. 

He wants nothing more than to be there with you, sitting on the floor as your back rests against his chest, the both of you smiling at your kid as he has the time of his life. 

Din can almost feel the warmth radiating from the fireplace, and he can almost smell the fresh pine decorations and the Hoth chocolate you’ve made. 

Before he is granted the opportunity to slip further into his daydream, his console lights up with the familiar reminder that he has received a hologram. 

Din wastes no time in sitting up in his seat and clicking the button for the message to play. 

Suddenly, you are projected before him, the child in your lap as you both seem to look right at him. 

“Hello my love!” 

You call out, and he chuckles as Grogu squeals out a greeting as well. 

“We have officially opened up most of our presents, haven’t we?” 

You ask the child sitting in your lap, and he laughs at the way you make your voice sound funny when you ask him your question. 

“Of course we saved some for when you return, Din. I want you to see him when he opens his presents, okay? I want you to have those memories too.” 

Your voice wavers as you address him, and Din resituates himself in his seat to keep himself from focusing on the longing in your voice. You clear your throat and he is pulled back into the moment. 

“Okay, Grogu, show your papa your favorite gift,” at your words, the child lifts a stuffed animal from under his robe, proudly holding it out to the hologram. 

You laugh and so does Din. 

Grogu is obviously very proud to be showing his dad his new toy, which just so happens to be in the shape of a Sorgan frog. 

“Okay, now go get what I told you about,” you request through your laughter, and Grogu is quick to drop the toy in your lap and scramble down to run out of the frame. 

When he disappears you continue to watch him, to make sure he is executing whatever plan the two of you had concocted correctly. 

Din takes the opportunity to observe you for a moment. 

He notes that your hair has gotten longer, and that your smile still makes his insides weak. 

He also notices the way you fold your hands together in your lap to rest atop Grogu’s toy, and he thinks about how he would give anything to be sitting with you, holding your hands and pressing each knuckle to his mouth as you both wait on the kid to return. 

He thinks about how you would smile up at him, and how you would plant a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, just out of sight from Grogu. 

“You got it?” You question, and his thoughts return back to the hologram. 

Grogu babbles a response, and Din notices that he is pushing a box into the frame. 

When he is satisfied that the box is where it needs to be, he turns to you for confirmation. You nod excitedly at him and he scrambles back into your lap, his small eyes and ears just barely visible over the top of the present. 

“We have something for you to open up too, so we need you to come home soon.” 

Din can’t seem to focus on the present clearly meant for him, as all he can see are the tears that have begun making their way down your face. 

“Please come home, Din. We miss you. I miss you. I’m not sure how much longer…” 

Your voice trails off when the kid looks up at you as a result of the sudden quiver in your voice. 

“Tell papa goodbye, Happy Life Day, and that you love him,” you prompt, and Grogu manages to string together a couple of coos before he scrambles back out of your lap to go play with his new presents. 

“Seriously, Din, I miss you. Please come home soon, I cannot stand loving you from afar. And I do, I love you across any expanse in the galaxy, but I want to love you here, in our home. I see how hard you’re working to provide for both me and Grogu, but I want you here to experience that life you make with us.” 

You fall quiet for a moment as you ponder your words. 

“I love you, Din Djarin, and I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. Happy Life Day.” 

With that, you blow a kiss into the hologram and the transmission stops. 

Din presses the correct buttons to stop the projection and to archive the transmission before he begins setting up his space to send his own. 

As the Crest prepares the proper technology, Din begins to talk to you as if you were there. 

“I am coming home soon, cyare. I will not rest until I hold you in my arms once more.”

Here’s the next prompt for Dincember: DINCEMBER - December 14 - Cold

[blushing-starker]

For my three rascals, bee, lanes and mabel. For a sweet bunny, a joyful optimist and a very enthusiastic yet sleepy student. What joy you've brought me, these past months. Merry Christmas dearies, and happy early new year.

"So if I beat you at this, if I get to the other side of the house-"

"Sanctum."

"Strange, you're killing his flow."

"If I get to the other side of the sanctum before the two of you, my bedtime is at one am instead of at eleven? That's what we're agreeing to?"

Peter watched as Tony cleared his throat, nervously glanced over at Stephen and sighed in defeat as the man stared at the floor too hard. "Jesus, don't go over it like a lawyer or a sorcerer," Stephen's head snapped up and why do they always have this conversation, "is it fair? Yes. Do we both agree? Yes, now get ready to sprint or fly or whatever it is you do while I suit up to win against our boy."

It's silly. Hilariously silly how quickly he melts when they referred to him, lovingly, angrily, tiredly, sweetly, as their boy. Peter isn't quite into that little space, but they decided to wear soft and fluffy pjs today while in the house and his have cute tiny green frogs jumping on lily pads so half way there, really. And he may have warm Hello Kitty slippers on which means that mindset is approaching faster by the second.

Tony has his Iron Man tank top on, a 'flimsy piece of clothing that does nothing useful except highlight some very nice aspects of our ridiculous partner', the accompanying short shorts and some wool socks Peter knit for him a few months back. They hug tan legs in varying heights, are two completely different shades of red and one has buttons while the other most definitely does not. They're Tony's fave pair.

Stephen is sulking, hitching up too long navy silk arms in a futile effort to not be performing magic with floppy sleeves flailing about in the pine scented air. It's a very nice color on him and his heart always constricts when the mage puts that set on, is proud he picked it out for Stephen on one of Tony's trips to Bali. The pants, thank God, are rolled and tied around the tall man's calves so he doesn't trip into a portal while fighting bad guys inside said portal.

( "it only happened once."

"Yeah, yeah, just eat your sand dusted take out. Peter finally has a free weekend and you forget to check the food while switching portals."

"At least it's not bland! And I have next weekend off. I could ask May to bring food. In an airtight container."

"Ha ha. Very funny. Eat your sushi rolls." )

Tony's armour is slowly encasing the man, tenderly mummyfying him as Stephen stretches his fingers. "I am a doctor first and then a sorcerer, thank you very much. I am also gonna kick butt and Peter here will sleep early tonight. Count of three?"

He slides into place between them, dances on his tiptoes, gently flicks his wrist to warm up the web shooters. Stephen draws some fancy smancy gold circles thrumming with power, Tony is now fully enveloped in metal and testing out the new thrusters and a very unimpressed cat acts as referee.

"One."

He shakes off the excess energy, inhales through his mouth slowly. Tony's engine come to life and the gold circles seem to shine a tad brighter.

"Two."

Exhale now. Focus. Tense up the legs, prepare the lungs, have the web shooters ready. The doctor sways from side to side. Their tin man crouches.

"Wait, who's gonna say three?"

"Do I say three or do you say three? Because I'm a little hurt over that, you know."

"Three!"

The awesome facial bros are off like rockets, steam and stardust coat every corner of the house, metal is scraped on brick, sparks fly off magic and electric light bulbs and it's a very close thing.

Which Peter can recognize and notice since he's half a house away from the starting point in five seconds thanks to a loving cape that decided it wanted to help out a boy with pleading eyes and a tendency to cuddle those that make him happy.

"Hey! That is unfair, mister."

"This is why I have to go over things, Tony."

"I'm gonna leave you guys to it while Mr Cape and I snuggle on the couch." And off they go, leaving a tin man and a puffed up, scraggly lion in their wake.

------

They all fall asleep at ten anyway, canoodling on the wide couch with a certain cape draped over like a blanket. He's sleeping too. Quite happily, in fact. If he could get Peter to stop drooling on him, that'd be great though.

(It's fine. Honest. Kinda cute.)

@professional-benaddict @sugar-and-spice-parker @drarryismyshit07 @bee @vanillapeter @estelsberry

[emj-tolj]

Bringing a World of Adventure Hunting in to Your Home

Not everyone is not living in a position to wander the woods, desert, beach or ruins. I had that situation at one point in my life. And yes its depressing. And when you read others doing all these things its can really get to you. However there are a huge number of things yo CAN do to counteract the depression. Lets visit a good many of these things:

1) Everyone’s first Go-to is Roleplaying. Be its table-top or online. But not all Online games bring out the true desire to adventure, as they are limited to telling a specific story. As such I suggest avoiding using game maps and make you own real maps. Right down and study any runes in the game, study the magic tech in the game, write side stories of your character that can not be done in game. Create a history to the character you made. Some games are limited what you character looks like. Draw your own character and hang it by your game station.

2) If you have adventure wear, wear it about the house/apartment. Does not have to be all of it. Boots, a shirt, a vest, tunic, wristbands, cloak 

3) If you  have the money and talent turn kitchen into a tavern or saloon, line shelfs with bottles and plates and other tavern/saloon wear. Avoid cheese props. Study movie sets and get ideas from that. 

4) Likewise turn your bedroom into an Inn room. Go ristic and simple with natural colors and materials

5) Burn in a cauldron or censor wood chips, herbs and incense, 

6) Hang posters of nature about the walls in natural wood frames. If you can obtain some old wood window frames, you that as your poster frames. If possible find images of nature on line and print them out. Try to make all the images co-inside, so its looks like you are looking out into the same view. Change the posters with the seasons if possible 

7) Place realistic life-size animals about your home: Snake, turtle, mice, birds, chipmunks, insects. If you have a ficus tree or a cluster of plants, place a birds nest with eggs in it

8) Play sound effects and ambient sounds in the house. Youtibe and other sites have a plethora of ambiance and sounds from cave to camp sites, tavern sounds, market squares, pirate ships, forests 

9) Add a fountain/s in your home. Fountain pumps can be bought anywhere these days, 

10) Terrariums! Make them and add them to your home. Even of the plants are fake 

11) Aquariums! If your adventurous aestheic love is the see or any water setting like ponds, these are fantastic to have. And do not limit yourself to just fish: Crabs, snails, turtles, frogs, lizards, snakes. Even if you are not allowed to have pes, build an aquarium anywhere. The flow of the water from the filtar moving the plants can lend to the imagination  

12) Wood, tin and copper and wrought iron objects 

13) Leather bound books. Line a shelf with them, 

14) Candles and lanterns. Some people can not have things where they live for safety mode. Even if you never burn them, have a cluster of candles anyway. Just the look of lanterns and candles plays with the mind. You can also invest in battery ones but I think they are silly looking

15) Bowls of fruit: Wood bowls and real fruits and nuts about the house. 

16) Seasonal and year round garlands and wreaths about the house. Clusters of ferns. If you do not have a green thumb, go fake if need be. Ferns and spider plans are my fave. 

17) Drift wood and moss covered wood. 

18) If you have your own Adventure clothes and gear do not bury it in a closet. Get a mannequin and display it, 

19) Fur, leather, blankets, wool, sheepskin throws and pillows.

20) Banners and tapestries 

21) Invest in a couple of mortar & pestle sets, one for the kitchen and one for the bathroom is you have the room. (Confession: I collect them) 

22) Hang herbs and dry plants in the kitchen.   

23) Clay pots and assorted pottery about the house. Try to sick with OLD looking styles. Check out some sites or books on ancient styles for an idea 

24) Antlers add a wonderful feel to ambience. Even if fake. Now they are made into door handles, draw knobs and so much more. (DO NO go hung deer and elk JUST for their racks)

25) Bowls and vases of snail shells, acorns, pine cones, 

26) Rolls and displays of maps, 

17) Glass and Ceramic bottles: Display a few or better yet, use them! fill them with shampoos, liquid soaps, drinks and what ever else you use and look at daily  

18) Old style dip pens and ink vials on your desk along with scrolls of parchment and an old leather bound journal, 

19) Color glass baubles like the ones at christmas time and “witch balls” These are great if your Aesthetic is the sea or in the Witchy profession, 

20) Wood wand display. Not talking about Harry Potter here. Do a little reserach and find or make a REAL one. Display it on your desk or mantle staff. If you have a set, even better. 

21) A Statue of an ancient god, 

22) Baskets and wicker to hold things 

23) Metal goblets and drinking horns

24) If you have one or several hand your shields on the walls, 

25) Oil hurricane lamps, 

24) Hang and display Gourds about. If you know how to carve and stain gourds, all the better, 

25) Birds houses. In the house?? Sure, why not? 

26) Feathers. Sometimes just a vase of ling feathers helps. If they are feathers you find in your walks, just as better. Each one has a story  

28) Bowls of rocks. Not only does this bring the natural world in but its said that a bowl of rocks by the door and window wards off negativity. 

29) Old wood boxes. Just do not collect them but USE them. put whatever in them as storage. Afraid you will forget what’s in it??? All the better. There is your treasure at the end of your search. 

30) Corn dollies. These folk cultural dolls and designs have their roots into the ancient world. a display of them, especially during the late summer, really invokes the harvest season 

31) Ceramic and wood bake ware in the kitchen. Ads a rustic tavern feel. This could include   bread boards and bowls, wood spoons, rolling pins,

32) Replace DVD covers with parchment or wood texture covers. Sometimes a wall of game and DVD cases can kill an ambiance you are striving for. If you can not print out all these coves, hang a tapestry over your shelf unit or add wood shutter doors  

33) Cover your library of bright color books with leather, paper of plether, No access to leather? See of someone has an old leather jacket they are ditching you can cut up

34) Wood flutes, harps, ocarinas, pan pips, lyres and rustic drums add to a great tavern-ish display.

35) A tall vase of cattails gives ambiance for this that over adventures in places like rivers and lakes, 

36) If you have a collection of crystals, sea glass and gemstones, show them off in a wood box or basket, 

37) Halloween Witch bottles add to the adventure appel. (I have a buhnch and have all my teas in them, 

38) Fancy yourself an Librarian or treasure seeker? Have a display of “artifacts” like (potters, tiles, scales, bones, glass, wood), Find some broken pottery shards and make them look like Greek pottery. If you sculpt make a remnant of a state or a bone or prehistoric tooth. Create your own artifacts and put stories to them.

39) Hang a bunch of leather sachets and small bags from a hook or sit them on a shelf, 

40) Find yourself a rustic tea set, 

41) Collect vintage clay and wood tops. Tops have been around since ancient Assyria and Babylon.

42) Display a collection of carving tools or depending on your likes, a small anvil and hammer,  

43) Hand on hoots of rack by your door or wall woven wicker hats, leather caps and witch/witch hat, head wreaths,

44) Display an old stick/straw/grass broom head wreaths, 

45) Display a helm or helmet you have in a place that speaks “I am at the ready”

46) Fold a small stack of old burlap bags and place on a shelf and use them to store things like potatoes and onions, 

47) Display and basket of wood knitting needles and wool,

48) Grow plants, flowers, herbs and small trees. Even small pots of just grass adds a sense of nature and Adventure (The ancient Greeks would grow grass for their New Years Eve celebration) I have lemon trees in my windows I grew from seeds.

49) A Fish Net works great to add an aesthetic look to your space.

50) If nothing more find an artist and have him/her draw your aesthetic self as you see yourself in different poses, gear and situations. Blow thing up power size and hang them about your space

51) If you can not do any of this, create a physical scrap book of pictures and images that’s screams your aesthetic ideals. Visit it daily and add to it.

NOTE: While all these ideas are great starts, DO NOT over do it. Less is more. Rustic and simple. Avoid cheesy plastic props and things like signs screaming “I am a Proud Viking!” Investigate films, movies and history into your aesthetic loves and the world behind it. Do not create clutter. Make you space livable and function to your NEEDS. Make you space your home, not a museum. If your space is cluttered and does not bring you a feel of your Aesthetic feelings you may need to pull back on some of your props.     

[whatmack]

🐌

A spiral drawn in chalk on the cracked pavement, separated into boxes; it was so much better than regular boring hopscotch. Danielle looked longingly over to where the rest of the girls from her class were gathered around, but she stayed put where she was, under the lone tree at the corner of the parking lot. She wrapped her arms under her legs and rested her cheek, listening to the cars going by on the other side of the curb. Honk-honk. Honk-honk-honnnnnnnk. Yesterday, Danielle had followed the other girls in the flood out the doors to recess, so she’d been there when Bethany had pulled a stick of chalk from her pocket and started drawing. She’d been as excited as the rest of them. She’d jumped right up and said she was going to own them all and that they’d all owe her a soda and then Bethany had said with those shoes? How much did your mom get them for and Danielle had said five dollars? because that was the truth, it was a good deal and they were barely worn even, and then Jessica-L had said they look like boys’ shoes and they’re dirty and Bethany had said oh we don’t want to play with poor trailer trash and then everyone had laughed and moved over a whole parking space to leave Danielle behind, standing there, with her mouth stuck together so she couldn’t come up with any kind of comeback. So she was under the tree today. Before Bethany had said that, Danielle had been proud of her new-not-new-except-new-to-her shoes. They had tops that came up to her ankles and were stiff so you could lace them high, and Danielle had used her princess stickers, the good ones she had been saving, to decorate them all over. She could see now that they were ugly and no amount of pink crowns and fairy wands were ever going to fix that. She hated them. They were the worst shoes ever. And she’d wasted her princess stickers on them. Her breath was just starting to come fast, eyes burning, when she heard somebody come up behind her. Scrubbing hard at her face, Danielle turned her head to see Miss Naomi stop and lean against the concrete wall, wiping the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand. Danielle blinked at her.  “Am I in trouble?” she asked. Miss Naomi smiled. “No, Danielle, you’re not in trouble. Can I sit next to you? That looks comfortable.” It wasn’t comfortable. It was all gritty with pavement rocks and dry grass. Danielle nodded, and Miss Naomi lowered herself down beside her criss-cross-applesauce. Danielle watched her settle her skirt with a little flick, still smiling. “This is where the cool kids sit, I see,” Miss Naomi said, in a secrets-telling voice. Danielle frowned. It was clearly not where the cool kids sat, because she was sitting here and the cool kids were over there, playing Snail. But she didn’t want to con-tra-dict Miss Naomi. Miss Naomi was nice. Danielle shouldn’t really know Miss Naomi. She was the new teacher, this year. She taught second grade and Danielle was only in first, but on Fridays she did Early Reading Program out in the hallway for a whole period. Danielle was one of the kids who got to go to Early Reading Program onaccountof she was super good at reading, and they were the best part of the week. They got to read real books with chapters and when they finished one they got to pick the next one out, from a whole list Miss Naomi brought in.  Miss Naomi was young and her favorite animal was frogs and she liked oranges and she had a white husband and her classroom was on the second floor and she wore those big circle bracelets on both arms and she was pretty and Destiny said she was pregnant but Erika said that she was just fat. Danielle was going to miss her when she left next year (and she would, because the new teachers always left after one year). She’d never had Miss Naomi come over special to talk to her like this before. Maybe Danielle was her long-lost daughter and Miss Naomi was going to tell her and they were going to go on a sailing ship. Danielle perked up. “Phew, it’s good to get out of the sun,” Miss Naomi said, fanning herself. “You’re smart to wear sneakers. These things have been killing me.” She showed Danielle the boots she was wearing, that came up almost to her knees.  Danielle looked back down at her stupidawful sneakers. One of the stickers was peeling off, a ruffled skirt. “I hate sneakers.” “If you don’t want them, I do. We can switch,” said Miss Naomi. She started to unzip her boot. Danielle clapped a hand over her mouth, horrified. Then she laughed, despite herself. Miss Naomi was a grown-up, and her feet would never fit in Danielle’s shoes. It would look so silly. Miss Naomi laughed too and abandoned her zipper.  Danielle stuck back down the ruffled skirt. Maybe the stickers were okay, at least. “Are you pregnant or just fat?” she asked. Miss Naomi laughed again, her eyes crinkling up. Her laugh reminded Danielle of the crickets at night when it was summer, soft but loud at the same time, in groups of two: ha-HA, ha-HA, ha-HA. It was a good laugh. It made Danielle hug her arms around herself.  “I’m both,” Miss Naomi said. “And isn’t that wonderful?”

[timeagainreviews]

My Series 10 Rewatch: Knock Knock

Hello, my fantastic friends! I am sorry I have been so quiet. I got coronavirus in February and it really wiped out my energy. I am finally starting to bounce back and feel like leaving the house once more. This beautiful Scottish spring we’re having has definitely helped. I also lost my grandpa this week, so I've been all over the place, emotionally. Obviously, such a big pause in the middle of a series 10 rewatch is disruptive, so I would rather just dive back in if it's all the same. When last we were gathered, I was talking about "Thin Ice." Since then, the ice has thawed and I am now up to series 10 episode four- "Knock Knock," by one-time Doctor Who writer Mike Bartlett.

An aspect of Doctor Who which I love about Steven Moffat’s era is that the Doctor and his companions didn’t spend every waking moment of their lives together. Unlike companions of the past, who basically left behind their family lives to galavant across time and space, the companions of the Moffat era had home lives. Not only did this make for some humorous moments, such as the Doctor landing his TARDIS in Clara’s bedroom on date night, it also set up the characters for something of an actual life. "Knock Knock," uses this separation of worlds to establish one of its central themes- can you have a normal life with the Doctor? 

Being a poor student in London, Bill is forced to look for a flat with a group of people she only sort of knows. This is your typical group of students, eclectic and young. The biggest commonality they have is they can’t afford a place on their own. One of the ways in which this makes the episode suffer is that none of them has much chemistry together. However, it does enable Bartlett to explore deeper concepts, such as the fear of meeting new people. Our characters are forced to deal with a deadly situation with people who are basically strangers. 

The other commonality they have is Bill’s mate, Shireen. I got momentarily excited the first time I heard her name, but only because I thought it was going to be Rose’s best mate Shareen. Also, it would mean that Rose and Shareen had like a 10 year age difference, which would be weird. Shireen is a bubbly sort that seems gung-ho about everyone getting on. This doesn’t stop 90% of their interactions from being a total cringefest. Not one of these characters is particularly likeable. Pavel, the musician of the group, and the one character with maybe a bit of culture becomes a wall pretty early on, so it’s a bland time from there on out. But that’s getting a bit ahead of ourselves. 

After a montage of disappointing flats ("Oh my god, the toilet is is what room?") the gang stands defeated. But like a beacon of light, comes a glimmer of hope in the form of John, a man who clearly prowls the streets for groups of youths. The gang is willing to overlook the obvious stranger danger about John because he has something they need- a giant house at a reasonable price. It’s another one of those deeper concepts being explored here that I think Doctor Who does so well. The show operates well when it preys upon basic fears. In this case, it’s the fear of the creepy landlord. The fear that your home life may be dictated by a creepy man who carries a tuning fork and forbids you to enter certain parts of the house like it’s Beauty and the Beast. 

 Arriving as if to say "No, Bill, you can’t have a normal life," is the Doctor. After using his TARDIS to move her belongings, Bill is quick to send him off. She even foregoes the traditional six-pack of beer and pizza, the universal payment for friends helping one move house. Of course, the moment the Doctor enters the derelict abode, his Time Lord senses are pinging. The Doctor isn't just an embarrassing "grandfather," type, but also a threat to any semblance of a normal life Bill can hope to have. As I said, this is familiar territory in the Moffat era. A funny side effect of the Doctor's attempts at allowing his companions to live normal lives is it only adds to the sharp contrast between both existences. Perhaps this is immersion therapy on the Doctor's behalf. Letting his friend remember what the world is actually like so as to not disassociate her from her own time and place. Or perhaps it is the Doctor softening the blow of eventually losing his friend.

The Doctor leaves long enough for two things to happen. Firstly, Pavel is listening to some music and suddenly is eaten by the house. Nobody seems to notice. Secondly, the new housemates have a bit of a games night for their first night at 11 Cardinal Road. There's no cellphone reception and the house is nowhere near up to code. I applaud them for trying to build up these characters, but it never really gels. Their merriment is cut short after hearing a noise in the kitchen. Scooby-Doo style, Bill leads them to the pantry where she finds the Doctor never actually left. They decide to head to bed, but the Doctor decides he's going to stay up with Felicity and Harry and listen to music. He also reminds Bill to maybe check on Pavel who has not been seen all day.

Now back in the sitting room, the gang is surprised to find John present. He addresses their problems with the amenities and waxes strange about having a daughter to look after. The Doctor asks John who the Prime Minister is, but he is unable to answer. Before they can ask more questions, John disappears down the hallway, but not before sounding his tuning fork against the wood. On her way to bed, Bill has the most cringe conversation with her new housemate, Paul. Paul fancies Bill. Bill fancies girls. I get that they may have wanted a scene where Bill flat out says to the audience that she's gay, but Paul comes off as super creepy. I wouldn't have an issue with this, but I feel like we're meant to find Paul endearing. It's hard for me to place what exactly they were going for in this scene. Paul, mate, you just met her. You just moved in together. Maybe let the paint dry first.

Luckily, like a shot from the dark, the plot saves us from having to stand in the hallway of awkwardness. Paul, having gone to his room, screams. Thinking he's having a laugh, Bill and Shireen go knocking on his door, only to find the return knock sounding across the hallway wall. The house begins to creak and shudder while doors slam shut. It's like something from a haunted house movie. In many ways, it follows a familiar trope from Doctor Who. The house haunted by aliens. We've seen it in "Ghost Light," "Hide," or even Edward Grove from "The Chimes of Midnight." Though I would argue that here, there is less grist for the mill. "Knock Knock," is a more stripped back, simple story. And in that way, I find it begins to lose me as the mystery unravels. 

As the housemates run through the house, trying to escape whatever is happening, they find Pavel in a state of flux. Something about the music on his record player skipping has kept him from being completely absorbed by the house. I will say, this is a great bit of body horror on the makeup department's behalf. Everything about Pavel looks like a guy getting eaten by a wall. As it turns out, the tuning fork and the music have more to do with what's going on as the Doctor discovers the house infested with alien lice known as "Dryads." Using his sonic screwdriver, the Doctor is momentarily able to draw the bugs out from the grain of the wood. The Dryad is not your common woodlouse, as it appears to move through wood like water. Even in my second viewing, I found myself wondering if this is kind of cool or kind of dumb. I vacillate between the two. 

In many ways, this is both Doctor Who's greatest strength and its greatest weakness. The surreal nature of a time-travelling police box affords us things like sentient planets, talking chair frogs, and killer mannequins. On the other hand, it gives us farting aliens, gamma radiation in the form of lightning, and the Doctor screaming until a window smashes. I remember reading an Eighth Doctor book where horse people read books on their planet by licking them and tasting the story. Sometimes, Doctor Who is bloody brilliant, and other times, it's bloody embarrassing. But that's partly why I love it. This kind of freedom gives it freshness. One week we get a priest buzzing like a wasp as he talks, the next we get River Song and the Vashta Nerada.

Now, I'm not saying "Knock Knock," is bad, but it is a little dumb. I've already complained about the dopey kids nobody cares about, and the silly aliens that aren't that scary, but the end of this episode is where it really kind of evens itself out. As I said, I vacillate between this being a good and a bad story. We learn that the reason John doesn't want anyone up inside the tower of the house has nothing to do with safety, and everything to do with a dark secret. After discovering the unclaimed belongings of previous occupants over the span of decades, the housemates learn that they are just the latest in a long line of people being fed to the house.

I found the motivation of the Dryads a little hard to understand. It seems weird to me that a woodlouse would want to eat people, but here we are. As it turns out, John has found a way to keep his "daughter," Eliza, alive using the Dryads. After noticing they respond to sonic vibrations, John has been using the tuning fork the make them do his bidding. It's a simple arrangement- he feeds students to the Dryads, the Dryads keep Eliza alive as a wooden woman, hidden away in the tower like some forgotten ghost. Once again, the makeup department has done its job. You genuinely believe Eliza is a woman made from wood. I especially like how they used papery twine for her hair.

They do a good job giving reasons why the housemates can't call for help. No wifi, no reception. But it is hard to imagine that over the course of decades, nobody came looking at this giant house for clues of their missing loved ones. Maybe they did and the house ate them as well. All I know is that it's mighty convenient that not one prospective tenant said to their mum or dad "Hey, I'm moving into a giant house at 11 Cardinal Road." Hell, even the Doctor helped move Bill in. What was John's big plan for when the Doctor came around looking for his "granddaughter?"

By this point, several of the housemates have been eaten by the house. Honestly, I could care less about which ones. I think Paul got his, and of course poor wooden Pavel. Or would that be wooden panel? I can't stress how little I care about these characters. Am I cold? I don't think so. We never see them on the show again. They don't matter in the slightest. With the Dryads closing in, the Doctor and Bill have to think quick. Which is when they realise that the timelines don't match up. If John were Eliza's actual father, he would be long dead. Seeing as he is not also made of wood, they deduce that he is in fact not Eliza's father, but her son. Unable to say goodbye to his ailing mother, John has been preserving her. Eliza has been through so much trauma that she has completely forgotten this fact. It's all rather depressing if I'm honest.

Depressing is okay though. What's Doctor Who without the occasion trudge through misery? Of course, it's not all doom and gloom, as Eliza restores all of the young people, once again leaving me to question why they were eaten in the first place. Were they transmuted into energy and simply recombined? It's the best explanation we're going to get, which is fine. David Suchet gives a powerful performance as he begs his mother not to end their lives. His performance is, by far, one of the strongest elements of this episode. Eliza and John are both overtaken by the Dryads, who are off presumably forever. I suppose the threat of Dryads is no longer looming now that their puppet master is no longer pulling their strings.

All in all, I find myself without much to say about this episode. It's not bad, but it's not a banger either. Even writing this review has been a bit of a slog. I find myself hard-pressed to really have any strong feelings one way or the other, and sometimes, that's just how it is. I will say it is the brownest episode of Doctor Who I’ve seen since the ‘70s. The BBC really knew how to dull down colour back then. Sigh... The best I can say about "Knock Knock," is that it's fine, really. There's nothing really wrong with it other than being kind of dull. I think if they'd have tried harder to make the characters more relatable it could have helped. Not every villain needs to be the new Daleks or Weeping Angels. Unlike some of the other episodes in my series ten rewatch, my opinion on this episode has changed very little. I would be as equally surprised to hear someone say this episode was terrible as I would be to hear it's their favourite. This is the kind of Doctor Who you can have on in the background. 

Much like we followed the lacklustre "The Unicorn and the Wasp," with the transcendent "Silence in the Library," I am very excited for the next episode in my rewatch- "Oxygen." Another anti-capitalist romp in the vein of "Smile," is just what I need right now. Now that I am back and feeling up to writing again, you should expect to see a bit more output. I wanted to cover the BBC's Youtube Dalek series, of which I have not watched a single frame. I've been putting it off because I wanted to talk about it on here. I have a few non-review articles in mind, but I don't like to promise too much. What I am saying is that you can expect more, soon! Take care!

[anyawarrior]

Hey, I have something to come forward about./vent

Dear followers/friends/strangers,

Have any of you ever wondered why I talk so weirdly formal? As in using proper punctuation, capitalization, grammar, spelling, and pronunciation? It’s because I’m extremely conscious about myself. You see, I have autism. I’m high functioning, yes, but I’m still extremely conscious about it. I don’t like looking back more than two years ago because I hate seeing my foolish optimism and obliviousness. I was so high-energy, so excited, and I don’t like looking back then. It makes me conscious about myself. I talk ridiculously proper to look smarter, to look more normal, to look like I can function, to form a mask, a lie, hiding my autism. It’s something I can’t help. Something ingrained into my head that if I don’t seem like I can function normally, I won’t have a use to anyone or anything.

I’m sorry for lying about myself, but it’s a defense mechanism. If I’m too open about who I am, I’ll be bullied, overwhelmed, attacked, and end up hurt. “Never again,” I think, sitting in the bushes at my school, crying as a teacher gives me a write-up because I’m undergoing sensory overload. “Never again,” I think, as I get abused for my kindness and thrown aside for being too tired one day. “Never again,” I think, after saying something bad because I was oblivious and just trying to speak my mind.

Everything I say is a shot in the dark. I either hit someone and offend everyone because I used the wrong words, or I hit the target and get my point across. I want to speak my mind about things, but when it’s a sensitive subject and the area’s a minefield, I never end up getting my point across because I’m too paranoid of destroying everything with one wrong word. Even making jokes is dangerous for me, because some people might not think it’s a joke and will take offense to me joking about gazelles and deer being close enough. Every time I say something and cause an argument or fuss, those two words run through my head. “Never again.”

I always have trouble getting my words out of my head and into the world without losing the message. It’s like translation it through several different languages, and then it translates one more time for other people to understand it. Like a messed up, dangerous game of Telephone, my words get lost along the way. I can only hope that this time, nothing gets lost in translation.

When I was little, I would come up with silly little short stories, write them down, and share them with my whole class. Now I have full universes I’ve created from the ground up, poems I’ve spilled my heart and soul into, songs that shout everything I’ve been afraid to say... And not a single soul hears or sees it.

When I was little, I would sing my heart out in my bedroom, even if it was 8 PM and some neighbors were trying to sleep. Now I can’t even hum or sing quietly without feeling like I have the voice of a strangled frog with lung cancer.

When I was little, I would draw and doodle and not think anything of it, proud of what I made. Now I give up when I can’t draw something because, if it’s not perfect, the world shouldn’t see it.

It’s not just my autism that pains me, either. It’s my depression, my anxiety, my ADHD, my OCD, every part of my mind that’s different than someone else’s causes me great pain and strife. So many words, so many voices, so much yelling, and I can hardly hear myself through the arguments that rampage through my mind. No, I don’t actually hear voices, it’s personification of everything.

My anxiety sometimes has the right idea, but overreacts, and other times it keeps me from doing what’s right.

My depression doesn’t care, it’s existential, the type to smoke cigarettes and throw them wherever, not caring if it starts a wildfire.

My OCD focuses on perfection, but if I try to do something productive, it says it’s not worth the time.

My ADHD wants to spend time having fun, but when I try to, it decides to space out and not get anything done.

My autism always has good intentions, but uses the wrong words sometimes and hurts people on accident.

And then there’s me. A combination of all of this. A mess of low self-esteem and sometimes the embodiment of “I see no God up here other than me.” Unable to focus. Unable to think. Unable to learn. Unable to speak. Unable to get her thoughts out there into the world where maybe, just maybe, someone could see them and offer comfort.

It pains me to cover up one of the biggest parts of who I am, but I don’t know what else to do. I hope you can forgive me for hiding so much, and for suddenly venting like this. I just needed to get this out there. Things wouldn’t feel right if all people thought of me was bubblegums and sunshine. I’m not perfect, I’m not full optimism. I’m human, just like you, and don’t let all of my bumps and edges say otherwise.

Sincerely, AnyaWarrior.

[the-human-sharpie]

Nobody asked for this, but here’s a list of things that make me happy:

Sparkly bits in the pavement

Finding smooth rocks

Horseshoe crabs

Finding tiny crabs at the beach

I hate the beach :D

When a wave hits a sandcastle and the sandcastle stays standing up

Catching or really just watching frogs at the little pond a few neighborhoods over

Tiny candy canes

When rooms smell like oregano, basil, rosemary, or thyme

The rest of the list is under the cut :)

Eating basil leaves directly from my garden and feeling like I outsmarted the rabbits and groundhogs because apparently all they know is destroying my herb garden and eating all my blueberry bushes like mf just take a tomato i don’t like tomatoes it’s a win win if you go that way just don’t eat my fucking basil leaves istg

Getting to explain the physics/aerodynamics of the twin sonic booms that the Atlantis shuttle makes upon re-entry into earth’s atmosphere to little kids in a way that makes sense to them

Space

The way that people’s eyes light up when they infodump about their hyperfixations and/or special interests

Frogs

When movies take physics and accurate terminology into account

Using a new sketchbook that has really good paper

Ballpoint pens!!

The Royal Opera House’s ballet adaptation of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland

Sergei Prokofiev’s Cinderella

Watercolors

When a locket makes that good click clack noise when you open and close it

Making other people happy

The way that kiwi birds run and hop around when they’re happy

Finding a snail

Finding a cat

Feeding the stray turkeys that randomly appeared in my yard one day (I hope they’re doing well)

When people do the thing like jingles out in my silly little jester hat like the fool i am

Accidentally sneaking up on friends bc I tend to walk really quickly and seeing their reactions

My pencil not dying 5 minutes into drawing something

The way I used to surprise the athletic kids— yes, I do mean the highlighter outfit ones— at school by surpassing them in physical strength bc apparently I looked like a twig to them

Antique shops (they’re so magical and special, even if it’s an old spool of thread that probably hasn’t been touched in years, everything there has a story behind it)

That one ikea teddy bear

Seeing people speak with so much adoration about their comfort characters

Seeing people gushing about their comfort characters in the tags of a reblog

Good mechanical pencils

Erasers that work

Riddles

Playing random pieces on the piano at 3 in the morning and otherwise enjoying the silence

Green things

In depth analysis of different characters and acknowledging character flaws of the ones who people adore and seeing the good (if possible) in the characters who people loathe

Good dreams that last long enough

Dreams that seem like a literal staged and edited shitpost

Seeing what songs people associate their ccs with and why

Trubbish

Joy Again (it’s a lovely band, really)

[politeanarchy]

Probably Explode or Something

This is the beginning of a story that I may or may not ever finish. It’s more or less completely silly. I’m putting it here (and a bit more of it on AO3) in case anybody wants a brief distraction from the big important stuff going on in the real world. It’s rated E, although this first chapter is pretty vanilla so far.

Chapter 1: In the beginning was the word, and the word was 'Oops'

Aziraphale was reading cookbooks and wondering if he should attempt foccacia when there was a jarring twang from the aether.

Normally, this was the kind of thing he would notice and ignore, as being background noise similar to the Soho traffic outside the bookshop. But this had been quite loud, and judging by the harmonics, it concerned Crowley in some way. Aziraphale closed his cookbook thoughtfully and reached out with non-human senses, as though sniffing the wind.

Hmm. Yes, something occult had been done to Crowley. It hadn't originated with him, and didn't seem strong enough to have come directly from Heaven or Hell, therefore the chances were good that he had been summoned. Probably by a human. Some foolish mortal hoping to liven up their isolation in quarantine?

No doubt he could cope with it adequately by himself. In fact, he would probably welcome the interruption to the hopeless boredom of the past several weeks. There was really no reason for Aziraphale to think he needed to get involved.

Aziraphale picked up his cookbook again and tried to focus on it. Did he have enough olive oil on hand? Plenty of sea salt, so that was all right. If Crowley had been summoned by a human, would they have used sea salt or just the regular kind? Would that make any difference to how difficult it was for him to get himself loose? All salt was sea salt, when you really got down to it, even the discount kind in the least-interesting box.

The cookbook was proving wholly inadequate as a distraction. He snapped it shut, and allowed himself to notice a series of agitated rippling twinges in that part of the atmosphere perceptible only to angels, demons, and the occasional witch. Aziraphale wondered if he had become more sensitive to Crowley since they had borrowed one another's bodies, or if he was only imagining it. In any case, he had to admit to himself that he would really like to investigate what was going on, rather than wasting the rest of the evening wondering. He could tell that whatever-it-was was no more than a few blocks away.

Besides, if a human was summoning demons in the middle of a pandemic, they were probably up to all sorts of no good. If nothing else, it probably counted as a breach of quarantine. It was therefore in line with both his celestial and earthly responsibilities to stop whatever was going on, before it caused trouble. Whether Heaven approved of his efforts or not, if there were demons were involved, he still considered it his job to thwart them.

"But I'm not going to set a bad example by just wandering the streets!" he said firmly, and instead, transported himself to the vicinity of the disturbance with a quick snap of his fingers.

It appeared to be a modestly-sized flat, with a general atmosphere of unwashed dishes and inadequate laundry. Furniture and miscellaneous clutter had been pushed against the walls to allow space for a large circle of occult symbols to be drawn with chalk in the middle of the room. Inside the circle, Crowley was sulking. Outside the circle there were a few candles; whether these were for ritual purposes or merely for setting the mood was not immediately clear. There was also a set of speakers playing music that Aziraphale couldn't identify.

"Crowley, are you all right?"

At the sound of the angel's voice, Crowley turned with an irritable flounce. He was wearing a black silk bathrobe over some kind of abbreviated undergarment, and was a much different shape than Aziraphale was used to.

"Oh, my dear, what has happened to you?"

"Nothing much, yet. Relax, angel. I'd be fine if I didn't look like Jessica Rabbit."

"Jessica who?"

"A character from a film. Not one you would have seen, I'm sure." Crowley shrugged, not his usual angular movement but a sultry undulation. "Don't worry about it."

Having satisfied himself that Crowley did not appear to be in any imminent danger, Aziraphale turned his attention to other important questions. "Who did this to you? Was it a human?"

"Yeah, some wannabe wizard who's evidently feeling a little lonely in lockdown." Crowley gave a derisive snort. "He ducked into the next room when you turned up. I imagine he wasn't too thrilled at the idea of more company. I hope he's putting some pants on."

Aziraphale's mind reeled a little at the possible implications of this, and then his attention was caught by a furtive suggestion of movement in the doorway. He made a sudden lunge in that direction, there was a brief scuffle, and then Aziraphale reappeared, frog-marching a pale, sullen young man in front of him. Fortunately for everyone concerned, the young man was wearing pants, however grubby and unflattering they may have been.

The angel walked him firmly across the room until he fetched up against a desk, on which was a book open to a diagram of the circle chalked on the floor. At the sight of the book, Aziraphale made a choked-off sound of astonishment, and bristled with righteous indignation.

"This is my book! You were one of the people who tried to rob my shop!" he spat furiously. "You must have picked this up when I was giving cake to your compatriots!"

The young man was clearly not prepared to deal with any of this. This was not how he had anticipated his evening turning out. He merely stood there, gawping helplessly.

Aziraphale was examining the diagram in the book, and the drawing on the floor, while simultaneously continuing to berate the human. "Look, you can see where he's used this set of runes to charge the circle. You should be extremely ashamed of yourself, young man." Aziraphale located the chalk and began scuffing at some of the marks on the floor. "I'm pretty sure I can do this and reverse the charges." He drew busily on the floor for a minute. "The idea of summoning occult entities all willy-nilly, for the purpose of...of...carnal gratification!" He nodded reassuringly at Crowley. "There, once I re-activate the circle it should send you home again. And I trust I will never catch you doing anything of this sort, ever again!"

The pale young man nodded feebly at this, then changed his mind and shook his head vigorously instead.

Aziraphale finished altering the chalk marks, tucked the book firmly under his arm, snapped his fingers decisively, and several things happened at once. The circle activated, with a faint glow and a low hum. Crowley started to shout "Angel, no!  Don't step in the—" and Aziraphale stepped into the circle.

Angel and demon disappeared as the aether did its twanging routine again. The young man exhaled slowly and sat down on his floor, vowing to be content with internet porn in the future.

Crowley and Aziraphale re-materialized in Crowley's flat, just as Crowley finished saying "...circle. Oh no." He slumped sadly onto his couch, pulling the silk robe around himself.

"I wanted to make sure you got home all right. I suppose it is breaking quarantine, although there shouldn't be any way for us to infect that human, or for him to infect us."

"It's not that." Crowley's robe had transformed into his more usual clothes, and he slouched into something approximating his usual sprawl, but with an undercurrent of more than the usual tension.

"I suppose I shouldn't have interfered at all, really. Presumptuous of me, to assume you need help extricating yourself from an, er, unsolicited booty call."

Crowley choked on whatever it was he'd been about to say next. "Angel! You can't just— How do you even—"

Aziraphale shot him a knowing smirk. "I work in Soho. I hear things."

"No, but the point is, I have a bad feeling you may have inserted yourself into the summoning ritual, when you did that bit of chalk-work back there."

"Oh. I hadn't thought about that."

"You didn't think about it, did you? You just filled in those runes with your own hand, then powered up the circle. Which, if I'm not mistaken, is what the ritual calls for."

"So? I sent you home. Here you are." Aziraphale sat down on the section of sofa opposite Crowley, and waved his hand in the general direction of the rest of the flat.

"You sent me home, and then transported yourself here as well. The part you're missing is that that particular ritual compels a demon—or other supernatural entity—to go to some specified place for a specific purpose. As you have so helpfully pointed out, it's a booty call. And, as a convenient little part of the deal, it fills said supernatural entity with raging uncontrollable lust. While also transforming them physically to make them attractive."

"Oh my. I suppose that explains your unusual appearance, earlier. Um. You're looking much more your normal self now. More, er, streamlined." Aziraphale gestured with one hand, indicating some sort of bodily contour.

Crowley winced, then grinned, or at least adjusted his mouth in such a way that his teeth were visible, tightly clenched together. "Yes. That got reversed, when you swapped the runes around. I'm well out of it, and glad of your interference in this particular case. But then. You summoned yourself. Here."

"Wait," said Aziraphale, as the penny finally dropped. "Are you saying that the spell is still in operation, only I'm meant to be the, well let's say the subject of it?"

"Yes," answered Crowley patiently. "That is what I am saying. I am also saying this might count as a problem."

(Read the rest of the chapter on AO3)

[the-faeryqueen]

E vening bby✨ I beed some guidance 😩🙏🏽 Im stuck in a fork in the road with 2 amazing very different yet similar men these gentleman who both desire my heart however one more than the other!! Im so stuck in making the wrong choice:( help guide should I continue towards my intellectual Virgo JR or my genuinely inspiring Leo MV Ahhhh SOS Ty & the stars bb🥰✨ JS SCORPIO ♏️ ☀️ & 🌚 Libra ♎️ Rising

Hi lovely! 🧚‍♀️💖

Ooh boy was this an interesting reading.

I felt a tight feeling in my chest while doing this (despite my general mood being stable right now and me being grounded with cleared energy), so I feel like you should definitely take a breather first! This is clearly a matter close to your heart, and honestly I've been in your shoes.

So let's get right into it!

Should you move towards JR?

I got Inner Child and Life Energy

Should you move towards MV?

I got Moon Energy and Flourish

Now before I interpret these let me say I was struck by how much these give me sun and moon energy! I love to look at colors and imagery in my readings and I mean just look at these cards next to each other.

I couldn't help but think of the Chinese drama I've been watching on Netflix called Ashes of Love, where the main character is in a love triangle between the night God or the fire God. I haven't finished the show, but perhaps it may have some clues or be of interest to you.

(Shameless character input here, perhaps your two love interests resemble their characters in some way)

Now here I thought, well, maybe this color scheme may be coincidence? Oh sugarplums was I wrong. This color scheme followed throughout the entire oracle reading! It definitely has a significance to show. Let me know if this resonates with you cause I'm intrigued by it!

Alright now that I'm done gawking haha, here's your whole spread. Top Row is JR and bottom row is MV.

We'll start with JR. 🌄🌻🦨☀️🔥💛

I feel like he lifts you up! I mean this metaphorically but I am feeling these may be literal too haha. He is likely silly and fun, and perhaps a little protective of you.

We have Skunk Spirit here and look at him, he's on this yellow Daisy here that is really reminding me of a sunflower and sunny energy. It says here "know your worth". If you don't already, you definitely should! That said, I'm feeling this person really does know how much you're worth and respects your real and true authentic self. If something isn't sitting right with you, now is the time for honesty. Remember who you are and what really matters to you and act with integrity.

Next we have Energy Field Adjustment: Aura cleansing and health.

Are you loving and taking care yourself? Does this person bring you happiness or leave you feeling drained? Pay attention to your health and how you energetically feel around this person. This will help you decide. Your body, mind, spirit, and emotions always have answers for you.

Again with this card I was drawn to this orb of light that looks like the sun. The mermaid is looking down at it, so I feel as if this person (or perhaps you, feel free to switch energies) just looks at you in awe and can't keep their eyes off you.

Now that we have info for JR, Let's move to MV.

🌕🌊🐸🎇💙

While JR may lift you up, I feel MV may calm you down. With this moon behind the fairy here they may feel like they know you very well intuitively, or that you have a more spiritual connection. I'm feeling he's a good listener and will calm you down when you're overthinking or confused or even just need someone to vent or chat with. With this Flourish card he likely just wants to see you grow and learn and be there for you through rough times (we have the lotus flower here, which are known for growing even in muddy or harsh conditions).

With this Frog Spirit: clear out the clutter and Water Flight: Heaviness lifts, burdens are cast away, weightlessness , I'm really feeling MV helps lift your burdens and clears out the "clutter" in your life.

Does this person make life feel simple and content, or are you finding it messy and complicated? "Frog Spirit appears to tell you to clean house-- prioritize what you need and get rid of or give away the rest so you can have some space in your day and in your head." Perhaps you are holding onto baggage or things that aren't serving you during this time. You'll intuitively know if that's the case. This could also be a message to take a leap of faith!

I'm seeing so much water, so emotions are high here whether consciously or unconsciously. Even this frog here has a little dew drop in his hand! Some emotions may need deeper inspection here or it could be a call to go with the flow.

Now it seems like we are at a bit of a tie here, so while I can't tell you which relationship to choose, I can give you general advice!

I used my Legendary Ladies deck here for the energy you should embody (Amaterasu: inner beauty) and general advice (Arianrhod: fertility)

We'll start with Amaterasu. Drawing this card means finding your own inner beauty and shining it on to the world. if you've been disappointed or discouraged, look within yourself for the light you need to go forward. I'm feeling you have all the love and light you need to answer this! Embody your own inner beauty and what makes you feel happy and special. Everyone has their own unique personality and talents and I feel you'll know which love interest will work best with you.

Last but not least, we have Arianrhod. The time is right for you to bring forth something new, whether it is into the physical, spiritual, or subconscious world. Goddess of fertility & Fate Aryanrod is urging you on. And look at all this green and growth! Whatever love interest nourishes you best you should go for. I'm feeling you will be bringing a new energy into your life, whether it is a change of belief or point of view or the love interest themself that will help you reach a point of growth and good opportunities.

If you'd like to send a tip it can be done through Venmo, PayPal, CashApp or Ko-fi. I appreciate even a dollar, as they help me keep my readings interesting and detailed for all my wonderful clients. All of my tips go to new decks or charms. You can also take a look at what I offer for paid readings: here.

My apologies for this being so long! Usually I don't do this much for my free readings but I felt really drawn to. Let me know what resonated for you! I absolutely love hearing from you guys.

Sending lots of love and light your way! 🧚‍♀️💖

~the-faeryqueen

[ruidosdebosque]

star treks ep I!!! 3!!!!!!!

@siyeonrose i legitimately got that wrong wrong but am i gonna correct it?? non

oh it's Disgusting Slave Trader Fly Man please die

like seriously five seconds in i've already had enough of this guy

awww lil anakin just asked stealth padmé if she was an angel. wait what the fuck what are angels like in space

whatever they are they all probably look like cool jim henson puppets. food for thought

ay his explanation of them is so cUTE tho he really was just being a smooth little guy

there really are a bunch of random binks scenes that add nothing to anything except explaining us how zany he is all over again huh. how silly, what a himbo icon

finally put my finger on who the disgusting flying dude reminds me of. he's just vertically elongated crazy frog!! but crazy frog wouldn't do anakin dirty like this, he was too much of a freedom fighter. rest in peace frog

jjgkgkgkfkg qui gon's face when trying to mind-wipe the slave trader into accepting his creds and fails twice. his face moves so little but conveys so much

c3po!!!!! i like how when they reveal him we have a shot of r2d2 saying, probably, "fuck" and already deciding they're gonna be bros for life

r2d2: "bro u're naked"

qui-gon literally just grabbed jar jar's TONGUE while reprimanding him. if only i had known this shot was in the movie back when i was making the memes

you hear that??? anakin is PREDESTINED!!! i'm sure that means only good things can happen to him from now on, this is great

and i'm gonna leave here! bc sleepy times draw near

[fresh-buttonsdotcom]

A Frog’s Adventure

By fresh-buttonsdotcom

Just like everyday it was a sunny day full of smiles and cheer from everyone in town. Frog walked down the small pebbled street and made his way to the café to enjoy his daily breakfast. He got smiles and waves from those who were awake as the crisp morning air chilled him down to his bones.

Frog had a routine, and this routine always started with two blueberry-and-fly pancakes and reading a book by basking in the sunlight of his favorite food joint in the entire town.

Today was no different. Frog walked into T’s Café and More, the familiar chime of the bell rang through the air signaling his arrival.

“Frog, my dear, how are you this morning?” Tortoise asked, walking slowly into the dinning room from the kitchen.

“I’m just fine, thank you. How are you?”

“Ehh, could be better. I missed the mail truck again yesterday.”

“You miss the mail truck everyday.”

“Oh hush up. I’ll fix you up some pancakes, you just take a seat and leave me alone.” Frog croaked a wet laugh and took his regular seat by the second window. He produced a hardcover copy of Piglet, a Snakesperian play, from his small bag and started from the third act. Halfway through the fourth act warm wafts of melted butter and warm syrup coated Frog’s tongue causing saliva to slip out the sides of his mouth. It was early enough in the day that the café was barely occupied, giving Frog great and reliable customer service.

“Here you go, hun.” Tortoise rasped, and set down the steaming plate of pancakes.

“You’re the best, TT.”

Tortoise smiled at Frog, “Don’t you forget it.”

Frog traded bites of pancake for lines of the play, and within twenty minutes he was done. Frog was so absorbed in the play, he didn’t even realize when more customers flooded into the small café. Chatter clogged the air, making talking to Tortoise impossible, so Frog threw down some money and walked out with his book in hand.

Outside the air had warmed up. Frog stripped off his light coat and placed it in his small bag. His bag was just big enough to fit his money pouch and a couple of books, but since Frog had only brought the one book with him he had space to stuff his small suede jacket inside. The town bell chimed seven times, indicating to Frog that it was time to go to work.

Frog worked at the local elementary school and worked with second graders. He both loved his job and despised it. On one lilypad there was the fact that all the kids Frog got to work with were all super cute. On the other lilypad, however, there was the decline of young'uns in their small town, which meant Frog could be out of a job any year. But Frog didn’t like to think about negatives like that, so instead he took everything day by day. Frog approached the small building and walked inside.

“Good morning, Mr. Frog!” Frog smiled at the verbal boom blasted down the hall.

“Good morning, Principal Tiger. Lovely day isn’t it?” Principle Tiger smiled tightly.

“It is. I’m afraid I have some bad news though. The triplets are sick, swine flu, and so is Mrs. Pig. I’m going to need you to sub in for the fifth grade class for the time being until Mrs. Pig is able to return.” Frog felt a pant in his chest. He loved teaching the second grade because that’s when you really get to start teaching them and getting them ready for the “real” world.

“Yes, I can do that.” The dejected tone of Frogs voice was not missed by Principal Tiger.

“Look, I know you love your second graders, but the triplets were going to be your last class for a while. Think of this as a promotion.”

“Sure, a promotion.” Frog’s mood was immediately dampened by the saddening realization that he would either have to teach a different grade, or find a new job all together.

Frog had lived in the small town of Pinkerton his entire life, fom egg, to tadpole, to froglet and finally frog. All of Frog’s other siblings had taken off after graduating school, and Frog hadn’t seen them since. Sure he gets the occasional letter, but he couldn’t help but miss all the commotion and ruckus they brought to his life.

Frog entered Mrs. Pig’s classroom, turned on the lights and looked around. There were five desks; each with a child’s personalized name tag. Frog placed his things below the teacher’s desk and pulled out the lesson plan for the week. After reviewing the plan for several minutes, the school bell went off, and students started arriving. Frog didn’t need an attendance sheet because he’d taught all of these kids previously—all but one.

Frog put on his happy face and greeted the kids, “Hello, come in, come in!”

“MR. FROG!” A chorus of small cheers resounded against the walls of the room.

“You’re going to be teaching us?” Chip asked nearly spitting out his lunch.

“I sure am! Why don’t you guys put your things away in your cubbies and then I’ll answer your questions.” Most of the kids scrambled to get their stuff put away and get back to their seats. One student was standing silently in the doorway. Frog took a quick peek at the attendance sheet.

“Hello. I’m Mr. Frog. Are you Toada?” Toada peaked her head out from under her hat, just enough for her eyes to lock onto Frog’s and quickly fall to the floor. “I promise I’m not scary,” Frog said calmly, slowly inching his way towards the frightened girl. He held out a lettuce leaf. Toada shook as she raised her head to meet Frog’s eyes once again. When their eyes met she flinched slightly but didn’t look away, and took the leaf with a trembling hand. Frog smiled at Toada, and watched her slowly put her things away and sit down at her desk.

“Mr. Frog, where’s Mrs. Pig?”

“Well, Birdy, Mrs. Pig is sick right now, so while she gets better, I’m going to be teaching you guys.”

“Mr. Frog, are we still taking that test on hibernation patterns?”

“Misty! Why’d you tell him?” Chip whined, rocking back and forth against his desk.

“Are you going to make us take a test, Mr. Frog?” Birdy asked, pecking nervously at the wooden desk.

“You guys will have a test—“ the exaggerated groans brought a smile to Frog’s face, “but it won’t be about hibernation patterns. This test will be about yourself, so there are no wrong answers.” The kids cheered and chatted spiritedly amongst themselves as Frog passed out a sheet of paper to each student.

“Okay, now I want you guys to start off with question number one: what is your name?”

“Easy peasy.” Misty remarked confidently. Frog looked around the room to make sure everyone was finished.

“Question two: what is the most interesting thing you’ve learned about hibernation?”

“I learned that when we hibernate, it needs to be like at 100 degrees!” Frog quickly brought a finger up to his lips.

“Shh, let’s let other people think on their own for now.” Frog suggested calmly. He continued on, asking about their favorite places, their funniest jokes and even the names of their best friends. After their fake test activity, Frog gathered their “tests” and resumed the lesson plan. At lunch time, when the kids where outside playing, Frog took the chance to read about what the kids wrote about. Most of their answers were silly and creative, but when Frog got to Toada’s, he realized she hadn’t written a word. Instead, she sketched a very detailed landscape of a forest with a black hole and a question mark on the middle of the page. Frog tried not to let the concerning picture bother him, but he couldn’t he’ll the way his eyes drifted nervously over to Toada every other minute, making sure she was still there.

After school ended and the bell rang, Frog gave the kids their homework sheets and sent them on their way, but not before trying to confront Toada.

“Toada, can you stay back for a few minutes?” Toada’s eyes bulged with fear, but she kept his gaze and nodded slowly. She shuffled up to the front of the room where the teachers desk was, and stood awkwardly on the other side of Frog, eyes down again.

“You’re not in trouble, okay? I just wanted to talk to you about this,” Frog provided Toada’s fake test and showed it to her, “what does this black circle mean? The one with the question mark in it.” Toada shrugged. “I know that can’t be true. You spent the entire first block of the day drawing it.” Toada stayed silent and Frog internally groaned. “Okay, if you don’t want to talk about it you don’t have to. You can go now.” Toada walked quickly out of the classroom leaving Frog with nothing but more questions.

Frog spotted Principal Tiger walking out of his office and walked briskly to catch up to him.

“Oh, Mr. Frog, how’d the first day go?”

“Pretty well, although there is one student I’m concerned about.”

“Toada?” The principle asked. Frog nodded and walked beside Principal Tiger as they both exited the building. “She’s new. Carmen found her out on the side of the road, dehydrated and alone. She’s currently living with The Ravens and the mayor is sending out letters everyday, but no one has claimed her in the past two weeks.” Frog’s heart ached at the thought of that little girl alone and without family.

“Does she speak?”

“Not that I know of. She clearly understands what’s being said, but is choosing not to talk back. The Ravens are trying to do speech therapy on her, but so far no luck.”

“If she doesn’t speak, how do you know her name?”

“She wrote it down for us. The child can clearly communicate but for some reason wants to stay silent.”

“Hmm, okay, thank you!” Frog took off towards the town square where newspapers from all over the county were sold. He got there and bought up one of each newspaper. He hurried home, practically tripping over his own feet. Once home, Frog found the advertisement sections of each paper and pulled them out. He microscanned each paper for a missing ad for Toada. After a few hours of scouring the papers, Frog had come to a dead end. Why was he so concerned about a little girl, Frog wondered to himself, before tucking all the papers away and calling it a night.

For the next few weeks, Frog continued buying all of the newspapers and searching for Toada’s parents. He also maintained a shaky relationship with Toada in school. He got her to make eye contact with him, he got her to write, but still no words.

During lunch, Toada would sit in the empty classroom with Frog and they would write to each other. Mostly it was Frog asking questions and trying to make jokes, and Toada sat there, amused and bored, opening up day by day.

On the third week since Frog took over Mrs. Pig’s class, Frog finally found something. It was a small ad, in the bottom right corner of the left page:

Missing Girl, Please Help! -Wetlands district

The ad read. Frog carefully cut out the ad and placed it in his bag. He was so excited to tell Toada about his discovery, he couldn’t sleep. Frog woke up to the sound of grass being mowed and knew he overslept. Looking at his wall clock, Frog saw he was going to be late for school if he didn’t hurry up. So he quickly grabbed a bread sandwich to go, and ran out the door. By the time Frog got to the school, the bell had finished ringing. Frog slid into the classroom, almost taking out Chip with him, and smiled brightly at Toada, before smiling at the rest of the class.

The day went by at a snail’s pace, but after seven grueling hours of containing his excitement, the bell rung.

“Toada, can I talk to you?” Toada nodded, and waited for the others to clear out of the room before Frog sat down across from Toada in the child-sized desks.

“So, I know that you’re lost,” Toada’s expressions turned cloudy, “and I know you don’t know how to get back or ask for help. So, here.” Frog took out the paper scarp from his bag and handed it gently over to Toada. She opened it carefully before her eyes scanned the writing. Her head shot up and her eyes filled with tears.

“Is this really them? Really?” She asked hushly. Frog was so taken aback by the fact that she had spoken, that it took him a few seconds to collect himself.

“I think so. That’s why I wanted to show you. This paper is from a county all the way in the Wetlands district. Does that sound familiar?” Toada shrugged and gripped the piece of paper harder. A fat droplet fell onto the paper, and her bottom lip started quivering.

“I want to go home!” She exclaimed, letting her tears fall stagnant down her cheeks. The echoes of her cries filled the empty halls, and Frog’s heart broke for the little girl. Then, and idea struck him.

“Let’s get you home.” Toada’s cries morphed into hiccups before softening into sniffles.

“How?” She asked, whipping away the tear tracks from her face.

“Well school is almost done, and Mrs. Pig should be back any day now. Principal Tiger will be able to teach the class so I can take you!” Toada and Frog ran excitedly through the halls to get to Principal Tiger’s office before he left. They skirted to a stop outside his office door. Frog jingled the door handle, before spotting Principal Tiger walking outside. Frog and Toada sprinted over to Principal Tiger, out of breath and full of excitement.

Frog couldn’t put his finger on why he was so excited to get Toada back to her family. But his stomach fluttered every time he thought about getting that little girl and her family back together.

“Principal Tiger!” Principal Tiger turned from where he was a few paces from his bike and smiled.

“Hello Mr. Frog, Toada. What can I do for you two?”

“Well it’s really for me. You see, I think I found her family!” Toada handed out the paper to the principal. His eyes scanned the paper a few times, before looking back at the two of them, this time without the smile.

“And what do you want to do you this?” Principal Tiger asked, shaking the paper around to show its flimsy-ness.

“Well, I want to take some time off to take her back to her family.”

“And if it’s not her family?” Toada’s excited expression dropped and her eyes went dull and Frog placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Well then I’ll bring her back.” Principal Tiger looked over the paper once more before shaking his head and handing the paper back to Frog.

“I can’t give you personal time for this. We need you to help the school run. I’m sorry, but the answer is no. Good day.” With that, Principal Tiger left Toada feeling hopeless and defeated.

“Flop that,” Frog declared after Principal Tiger was out of earshot, “I’m taking you home.” A spark reignited in Toada’s eyes before a slow smile crawled across her face.

(Please leave constructive criticism if you have any!)