#each star is like its own thing but i’ve found they keep going back to certain themes

[andromeddog]

I love all the little stars you have on your art they fit in so well no matter the vibe of the drawing and I love how it’s almost a little trademark of your work

:)

ajfjskfjd thank you so much!!!! it really feels like a piece isn’t complete without a star or two or five. idk how it really started but now i’m completely obsessed with them… if that’s a trademark of my work then i’ll take it

[anaoyuo]

Play With The Stars || deleted scenes

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Gojo Satoru x f!reader

summary: Literally just Gojo and you being horny on your beach vacation

notes: Another scene from adg that I’ve found. Originally from chapter 17, I ended up cutting it out for multiple reasons. One, the word count was already crazy. Two, the argument here was kinda unnecessary. And three, I thought it was too much back-to-back smut, especially since I knew about the threesome with Geto coming up. Sooo, I rewrote the whole thing, made it more romantic and sweet to fit the atmosphere of the rest of the chapter, and this scene here never saw the light until now. Enjoy

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The cooling ocean breeze swept into the room through the large, open windows, brushing past the curtains that fluttered and danced like the buoyant waves of the sea that was so close by.

You shifted on the couch, the phone in your hand failing to keep you entertained for much longer. With a deep exhale, you leaned your head against Gojo's shoulder, who sat right next to you. He, too, seemed to be absorbed in his phone since he didn't react to your gesture at all. 

"Satoru."

"Yes, babe?"

"I'm bored. What are we gonna do today?"

"You."

Confused at his response, your brows knitted together as you blinked up at him. "Me?"

Gojo hummed. "I'm gonna do you," he said dryly, those beautiful cerulean eyes never once leaving the screen.

"Thought that much was clear already," you muttered, heaving another long sigh into the air.

"Great." Gojo's phone suddenly clattered onto the table as he flashed you a grin, his large palm finding its way to your thigh in record time. "So let's start with that."

He barely wasted a second before slipping his hand between your legs, but you were just as quick to intervene, seizing his arm and halting him. 

"Seriously?!"

Hearing the harsh tone in your voice wiped the smirk clean off his face. He braced himself for what was to come next.

"Why can't I ever have a decent conversation with you? It's so annoying."

While you continued to snap at him, he sat there like a scolded child and listened, his tongue poking his cheek as he patiently waited for you to finish.

Gojo really began to wonder if you were doing this on purpose, constantly stressing him out, always arguing and picking fights, all because you knew the makeup sex was worth it. And he fucking hated that he had to enjoy this drama. 

"Can you for once in your goddamn life think with your brain instead of your dick?"

"What the fuck is your problem? Can you explain to me why I am the asshole again?" Gojo retorted, his own voice rising now—the perfect opportunity for you to play the victim.

"I just don't want to spend any more time on this couch, please." You slumped your shoulders and lowered your head. "I thought you'd have plans. This is your house, after all. You know this place better than I do."

"Alright, fine. Let's go shopping later. The promenade's got some cool stores, good food, too. Can we both shut up and fuck now before we end up killing each other over this?"

You shot him a pointed glare, still not convinced. He understood that he needed a different tactic.

"Dearest goddess of beauty, please, might I humbly request to partake of the pleasure of making love to you, oh you most gorgeous and perfect female being?" he asked again as he reached out to stroke your face with exaggerated tenderness.

You wanted to keep pretending to be mad, but your laughter slipped out uncontrollably, as it always did around him. "Okay. Make love to me then, Satoru," you smiled. 

Gojo shared your smile before he tilted his head and captured your lips with his own. He kissed with hunger, and you reciprocated it with just as much, if not more intensity. 

Your hands were all over him, gripping his taut biceps, clinging to his broad shoulders, holding his neck, running through his fluffy hair, fingers tightening in the strands, tugging at them. He did the same, lost in worshipping your figure, squeezing at your waist, your hips, kneading your breasts. 

Gojo pressed you to himself, bringing you closer to sit you on his lap, your body pliant and willing under his guidance. 

Amidst the sighs and kisses in the room, your phone rang suddenly. You drew away a bit, glancing toward the source of the sound. "Someone's calling me."

He couldn't be more unfazed, really. Gojo's mouth was back on your skin in an instant, trailing along your jawline. "Ignore it," he whispered against you, his voice husky. "We're busy."

"What if it's important?" 

"I'm more important."

He did his best to distract you by sucking sweet bites on the sensitive spot under your ear, the one that always got you weak, but his effort was for nothing. 

"I need to answer this," you insisted and gently pushed yourself away from him to rise to your feet.

Gojo let out a dramatic groan. "Yes, go ahead. Just neglect me. It's not like I have feelings, too," he grumbled as he threw his head back on the couch. 

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics and unplugged your phone from the charger. The display was lit by Nobara's name, your thumb swiping to accept her call quickly.

"Hey," you greeted, bringing the phone to your ear.

"Hey, where have you been? You haven't shown up at the office for days." Nobara's concern was audible even through the static of the speaker.

"Oh, I'm fine." You walked back to the couch and settled down beside Gojo. "Just not in the city at the moment," you added. 

"Not in the city? What's going on? Are you sure everything's alright?" 

"Yeah, yeah, I'm okay," you reassured, leaning back against the cushions. 

He watched and listened as you gave your colleague some bad excuses for your recent absence from the office. Though initially amused by hearing you stutter some words together, after a while, his interest waned. Gojo was bored again, and terribly so. 

That was when an idea sparked in his mind. 

"Nobara, it's nothing to worry about. I'll tell you everything when we see each other next week." As you spoke, you sensed Gojo's movements on the couch. Your eyes widened when you saw him pulling out his half-hard cock from his boxer briefs. 

With a stupid smirk and his brows raised high, Gojo gestured for you to jerk him off. The sheer audacity had you shocked and a little affronted, and it must have shown on your face because he snorted and broke into a fit of giggles next to you. 

"Oh, so you won't be back in time." Nobara sighed on the other end of the line.

"Back in time for what?" you asked, trying to redirect your focus to the call, even as he grabbed hold of your wrist. 

At this point, it seemed easier to just go along with what he wanted and appease him. So, you did just that, your fingers closing around its girth as you began to mindlessly stroke him. 

As the call continued, Nobara talked about a techno club she wanted to visit with you, where one of her friends would be playing their set. At the same time, Gojo started twirling the lengths of your hair, then he ran his hand through it. 

You should have known it from the moment he started touching you. It was all so obvious where this was headed; slowly and carefully, he guided you downward until his pink tip brushed against your lips, urging you to take action.  

You glared up at him, venom in your gaze—his absolute favorite expression on your face. 

"I had no idea you had a DJ friend," you replied to Nobara, deliberately ignoring Gojo. However, the constant taps of his cock on your cheek made it clear that he wanted your attention in one way or another.

"Oh, I met him a few years back when I was standing outside a club..."

While Nobara spoke, Gojo pushed your head further down, and you gave up on fighting him. It was a battle that you would have lost anyway. 

He had to stifle a groan, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as your warm mouth took him in, your tongue laving over his dick obsessively, as if it was your natural response to always do your best for him. 

"...if you want, I'll ask him if you can join us," she offered. 

You panicked. You hastily pulled back, trying to recall what Nobara had just said. "Uh, sure. Why not," you stammered out.

The second you finished, Gojo plunged his cock right back into your mouth. He bobbed your head up and down in a rhythm of his own making, testing your limits, pushing you to the edge of gagging multiple times before finally releasing you.

Your breath was shortened as you struggled to regain your composure, but Gojo was just getting started with the fun. He motioned for you to lie down. You shook your head vigorously. 

Oh, how he loved playing this game with you.

The way you fought back only to give in was one of the things that turned him on the most. It felt like a small victory every time he got his way with you. 

Gojo pushed you onto your back, and you offered no resistance. Why would you even?

He flipped your dress up, his eyes locking with yours as he teased your thighs with the tip of his tongue, sucking and nibbling at the sensitive flesh near your throbbing core. That was when you tuned out Nobara completely. All your thoughts now dedicated to what Gojo was about to do to your pussy.

Gojo buried his face between your legs, mouth latching onto your cunt, licking at your clit over the fabric of your panties, and each flick sent electric shocks through your body. Your free hand instinctively gripped his hair, seeking something to anchor yourself to. He didn't stop, didn't seem bothered, so you tightened your hold on his white locks even further, holding on for dear life.

"...he works on Fridays, I think, so let's do next Saturday," Nobara suggested, pulling you back to the call. 

"Yeah," you breathed out, a borderline moan. "Next Saturday's fine."

Gojo smiled against you. He was certain your friend must have picked up on it by now, but if not, he would make sure she knew exactly what was happening. 

Pulling your wet panties to the side, Gojo slid two of his long fingers into you. Your eyes snapped open wide as you gasped, loud, way louder than you had anticipated.

"Is everything alright?" Nobara asked.

Gojo pushed you further; the wet noises increased, his tempo a brutal one, which had you shaking and writhing as you tried to twist away from him but failed as his strong arm held your thigh locked in place, forcing you to endure his sweet torture. 

"Nobara... someone's at the door... I need to go," you somehow managed to blurt out. 

"Okay—"

Without even waiting for her to finish her sentence, you abruptly ended the call and threw your phone aside to fully devote yourself to the pleasure, but that didn't last long as Gojo began to slow his pace. 

"You're so lame. You should've talked to her for a bit longer," he said, looking down at you in a way that almost felt mocking.  

"How about we switch roles the next time Suguru calls?" you shot back in your defense. 

He licked his lips, already finding himself drawn to the idea. "Sure. I might even Facetime him." Gojo then leaned down to steal a chaste kiss from your pretty lips. "Just don't complain when I accidentally switch the camera and film you giving me head, yeah?"

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They are my favorite toxic relationship. I can't wait to bring their dynamic back in fg

Full series: ao3

[midnightmorpher]

☀️🔔 The Chime of Gifts 🔔🌙

oh lord what is that title

Anyways! I needed a quick break from writing chapter 4 of “barging into your life” (I’m nearly done, but won’t be posting it until maybe 15th July?), so I decided to write what I hope to be a future scene in the story. Sorry it’s a little rushed at the end, I’m… pretty tired lol

It’s not necessarily going to play out exactly like this, but the core idea is there and I want to make it happen :3

⭐️ Context: You and Sun are working more or less peacefully with each other, you and Moon are getting along here. Starbite is a nickname they made for you: “Star” because duh, “Bite” because you’re bite-sized.

Guess who came up with which half of the nickname.

The last straw is when a piece of sundrop candy somehow found its way into your hair.

“Ick. Kids sure can be dang ninjas sometimes, eh?” you say to Sun as you soak the stick clump under running water, easing each strand out of the gooey sweet. “Looks like I’ll need to watch my back closer from now on.”

You hear a scoff from behind. “You think your eyes are the problem here? It’s not! Look at that rat’s nest on your head, I won’t be surprised if it swept up that sundrop all on its own.” He flicks a lock of your wavy hair into your eyes for emphasis.

“Oi, don’t do that,” you snap. The candy finally comes free and you chuck it into a nearby bin. “But… eh, that’s possible too. Whatever’s the case, I’ll just have to tie it up higher where it can’t touch anything, I guess.”

Your hair is essentially a veil-like mass of wavy keratin covering over half of your back, and you normally keep it tied up in a ponytail for convenience or leave it alone altogether. But you had underestimated the chaotic nature of thirty hyperactive children, so perhaps it’s time to upgrade to a hair bun instead…

A hand suddenly claps down on your shoulder. You squeak in surprise. “There’s no need for that!”

“Huh?”

Sun jabs a thumb at himself and puffs his chest out with pride. “Luckily for you, *I* happen to be a licensed hairstylist myself. I’ll help you tame that nest of yours, and even better, it will be free of charge! What do you say?”

You squint up at him, then at his lanky noodle-fingers. He’s dexterous, sure, but trusting his strength with hair that’s attached to your very delicate scalp? Eeeeeeh.

“That’s… That’s alright, buddy,” you say as you try to shuffle around him to the daycare doors. “But I’ve got it hand- Whoa!”

Your feet leaves the ground in an unpleasant lurch as Sun plucks you up around the waist without warning. It doesn’t hurt, but you still reflexively kick the person responsible. (Un)fortunately, your feeble human strength doesn’t make so much as a ding against Sun’s silicone-cased body.

“Sorry, I should have worded myself better! What I *meant* to say was, ‘You have no say in the matter and I *will* wrestle that unruly mess into a more acceptable style suited for the daycare if it’s the last thing I do’.” His lower eyelids pull up to match his smug smile, unfazed by how you squirm ineffectually in his grasp. “Does that clear things up for you?”

It’s clear that you’re not getting out of his one-handed grip *or* this situation any time soon, and you slump over dramatically in his fist. “Ugh, *fine*. Treat me like a baby, why don’t you.”

Sun wags his finger at you. “Ah, ah, ah. What did I say about accepting help from *friends?”*

*’Bloody hell.’* “That it’s rude to refuse,” you sigh.

“It’s rude to refuse for no good reason,” he corrects you. “But close enough, Starbite!”

His long legs allow him to stride over to the middle of the daycare in five easy steps, and you’re set down on the play mats with exceeding gentleness. The phantom sensations of his fingers buzz on your torso even when he releases you, and you hastily straighten out your uniform before he notices the growing warmth in your face.

“Now you sit your little self down there and wait while I go get a brush!”

Sun doesn’t give you a chance to respond before bounding off, a thick cable carting him off to his room high up in the castle prop. You plop down with a huff. *‘Honestly, what’s the point? I might as well get it chopped off if it’ll save the both of us the trouble,’* you grumble internally, even as you tug off the black tie keeping your hair up. Locks of hair spill over your shoulders.

Sun returns in no time at all, twirling a comically tiny wooden brush in between his fingers with deft movements befitting of a knife juggler. You don’t think it weird when he circles around to sit behind you - how else is he going to “style your hair”? - but the *sudden snapping of legs around the width of your crossed legs like a Venus flytrap* forces you to scooch backwards with haste, back thudding against a warm body. “Whoa, what the hell?!”

The back of the brush bops against your nose. “Language!”

“I’ll rephrase, then! What the *heck*,” you say, turning around to shoot Sun a frown. But it falters quickly when you realise just how close you are to him; your nose is practically brushing against his brightly-coloured chest, and you can feel the soft hums and vibrations of the machinery hidden beneath the soft silicone. “Um.”

“How else am I supposed to tame that mane of yours? You need to sit closer!” His lower eyelids pull up to complement the smug grin pulling at his mouth, and he leans over with an expression that you’d call almost *eager*. “Unless that bothers you?”

“It’s not that!”

His grin widens a smidge.

“It’s just that this *can’t* be an efficient position for hairstyling, dude. Aren’t you uncomfortable?” Surely Sun possessing arms nearly as long as yourself would make it easier to work at a distance.

… And there the grin goes, levelling into the flattest expression his face is physically capable of.

“… No,” he sulks. Why is he sulking? Isn’t he the one that wanted to do this in the first place? “Maybe your eyes *are* the problem here after all…”

Now you’re even more baffled. Is this even about your hair anymore?

“Never mind!” He turns your head back around to face forward, his grip on your temples firm but gentle, and you feel a pressure beginning to pull at your hair. You tense up, digging your nails into the denim material of your jeans in anticipation of the inevitably awful process of combing.

But that’s not what happens. He doesn’t immediately start dragging bristles through your hair; instead, you feel slender fingers card through your hair with a feather-light touch, methodical and rhythmic, only stopping when they hit a small tangle, which is swiftly dealt with a sharp tug. It stings, but only for a second.

This isn’t what you’d expected.

“At least you take good enough care of your hair,” you hear Sun sigh so close to your ear. Warmth bathes your back as he leans forward for a moment to comb back a stray lock of hair. “As surprising as it is.”

“‘Course I do.” You try to sound dismissive, but the brief contact just makes you sound breathless. Why did your heart flip just now? It’s not a *bad* feeling, just… different? It makes your insides squirm.

“Ha. Hard to believe when you treat regular meals as a suggestion.” You hear the sound of wood scraping against metal. “Lean forward a little.”

Alongside his instructions, you feel a palm wide enough to encompass most of your back push against you, and you comply, limiting your line of sight to Sun’s eye-watering pants and your own legs tightly tucked into a criss-crossed form. You purse your lips into a thin line when you feel plastic bristles press against your scalp, bracing yourself for the pain-

The hairbrush pulls through your hair.

You can’t hold back the surprised squeak that bubbles up your throat.

The brush stops mid-comb. “Does it hurt?” Sun asks.

“No! No, uh, continue. P-please.” You desperately hope he can’t detect the blush rising to the tips of your ears.

He hums, but thankfully doesn’t question you as he returns to running the brush through your hair. You can’t bring yourself to hate it no matter how hard you try; the shockingly delicate touch behind the repetitive brushes sends butterflies to your chest, making it difficult not to lean back and sink into the motion. It’s not an *un*pleasant feeling per se. Quite the opposite, really. You weren’t aware that having someone comb your hair for you can be anything *but* a torturous experience to sit through, until now.

When Sun sets the hairbrush aside after nearly a minute passes, you’re tempted to ask him to keep going.

“I’m going to start braiding your hair now, Starbite,” he announces, poking you in the ribs to get your attention. “Do you think you can *hold still* this time?”

Embarrassment momentarily overtaking your motor functions, you blurt out a flustered “No!”.

“Oh.” It makes you feel a little better about yourself that Sun sounds taken aback as well. “I see. Well, um… here you go, then.”

His left leg unfurls and crosses *over* your lap, and you realise that he’s offering you the poofiest part of his pants like it’s a plushie to distract you. Even worse, you find yourself seriously considering it.

*‘… Oh whatever. If Sun makes fun of me for this, I’ll just suck it up.’*

Mind made up, you wrap your arms around the offered leg and stuff your face into the soft material for good measure.

You hear Sun snort and mutter something intelligible, but any thoughts on it flies out of the window when you feel his fingers scratching against your scalp, gathering your hair in three separate bunches.

The sensation is more subtle, yet just as soothingly hypnotic as you feel each bunch being weaved around each other. The last dregs of tension bleeds out of your shoulders and you sink into the plush material under you, your eyelids getting oddly heavier by the second…

Maybe it won’t hurt to close them for a bit…

…

…

“All done!”

A hearty pat between your shoulder blades startles you awake. Awake? Shit. “I was sleeping?!” you gasp, scrambling to get off his plush leg as quickly as possible. You hear giggling behind you. “It’s not funny! Oh god, how long was I asleep? The daycare’s gonna open soon-“

A hand baps the top of your head, knocking you back onto your rear. You glower at Sun’s unrepentant grin.

“It’s been ten minutes, so take a breath, hm?” As he talks, Sun brushes loose strands of hair away and tucks them into your…

You pause. There’s a new weight at the back of your head, and when you reach around, you feel a tightly woven braid trailing down your back and ending with the black hair tie you normally use. The braiding technique is nothing special, but it’s something *new* and you’re entranced by it, running your fingers down the path of the individual dips and curves of each silky weave. You trace over something that doesn’t match your hair’s texture, and when you pull your new braid over your shoulder to take a look, you see a red ribbon intertwining in it like a bright streak of dye. A *familiar* red ribbon that ends with an equally familiar bell tied to the braid’s tail.

You shake it to make sure you’re not seeing things. Its pleasant jingle shatters that notion.

“Sun?”

“Yeeees?” Sun coos oh-so-innocently.

“This is your bell.”

“I’m aware.”

“Why? This-“ You catch yourself before you spit out something overtly rude. “I mean, thank you for the braiding, but why the bell?”

Sun’s face is unreadable for a moment, his sun rays turning *click-click-click* in a way that you know he’s deep in thought. Then they snap to a stop and he claps his hands together. “Because! I need *some* way to keep track of you, don’t I? With your special talent of getting lost in straight corridors-“

“That was one time!”

“-and inability to cry out for help-“

“I-I’ve been getting better at that, too!”

“-this will at least alert someone to your location if I can’t come fish you out in time.” Sun reaches around and dangles the bell under your nose. It rings loudly in the empty daycare. “I won’t be hearing any negotiation around this, either! It’s staying on no matter what!”

So in other words, it’s basically like you putting a bell on your cat, Muffin. You suppose any regular human will find this offensive, but you can’t bring yourself to say that when you see how carefully the ribbon is wound into your hair, imagine how Sun must have leaned over your back in deep concentration to tie the bell in your hair…

“Thanks, Sun,” you sigh, your ears flushing brightly. “For the braiding and the bell. It… it looks nice.”

Sun puffs up with pride. “Of course it turned out nice! *I’m* the one responsible for it, after all. Did you expect anything less?”

“Nah, that’s not it. Just…” You fiddle with the cold metal thoughtfully. “It’d be a shame to have to take this out at the end of the day. I don’t think I’ll be able to tie it the same way you do.”

Sun tilts his head to you with a knowing grin.

It’s obvious what he’s waiting for. “Do you think you can *help* me?” you ask, failing to smother the self-conscious grin tugging up your lips. “Please?”

“Oh, if you insist, then I’ll take time out of *my* busy, busy schedule to help you.” His long-suffering tone clashes with the gleeful glow in his eyes, as does the way he claps his hands together.

Your grin comes easier this time. “Thanks, Sun. I really appreciate it.”

His expression melts into something you don’t see often on him (*warm*) but he snaps out of it before you can dwell on it too much. He yells something about clean-up and dashes off to the craft tables while you follow hot on his heels, both sets of bells jingling in tandem with yours and Sun’s movements.

The topic of the bell mostly fades from the forefront of your mind, until Moon shows his mug late into the night.

You’re lingering around the cafeteria area, hours after your shift is supposed to have ended, waiting for Moon to arrive for your semi-regular “show and tell” session when you hear the telltale chime of a bell above your head. It takes you a moment to realise why it sounds weirdly echoey.

“Hullo, Moon,” you say to the figure descending from the ceiling. The mechanical whirr of unwinding cables precedes the twin red eyes illuminating the rest of his face, and he lands on the edge of the table with graceful precision, hunched just outside the light’s reach. “You ready for today? I got this book from my brother, it’s-”

Just as you turn to fetch it, an arm suddenly snakes out and snatches up your new braid with a harsh jangle. You freeze, eyes slowly travelling from the bell in your hair to his bare wrist. “Oh. Um. Do you like it? Sun offered, so…”

Moon doesn’t move an inch.

“I, um. This was a surprise to me, too! But it would’ve been rude to refuse, right?” His red gaze narrows at you, and worry starts to creep in your voice. “I-is this about your wrist bell? Did Sun not tell you he was giving this to me? Oh god, he didn’t, did he.” With cat-like footwork, he uses his cable to hop over your head and hover behind you, your braid still clutched in his hand. “MoOON!”

You try to pull it back, but a sharp tug forces your gaze to the table. You hear rustling fabric somewhere above your head. *‘He must be taking it back,’* you think. The notion saddens you a bit, but it *is* both Sun and Moon’s property to begin with. It’s their right to take it back anytime they-

Your braid suddenly slaps against your back with *twice* the weight than it first started. Moon circles back around to hunch before you again, eyelids pulled up in a mischievous gaze. “Eh?”

You pull the length of hair over your shoulder. At the end of it holds not one, not zero, but *two* sets of bells. You glance over to Moon, and his now bare wrists confirms the absurd reality you’re in right now.

“Moon?”

His head tilts with a questioning creak.

“First of all, thanks for scaring five years off my lifespan. Second, *why*.”

“Why what?” his raspy voice snickers back.

“You know what I mean! Why put another set of bells on me? One’s already enough to, er, call for Sun’s attention if I need help. I don’t need *two*.”

Oddly enough, the mention of Sun puts a definitively sour note in Moon’s grin. “… Naughty.”

You falter. “I’m sorry?”

“Sun. Naughty, naughty little *liar* misleading Starbite.”

“Liar? As in, he’s lying about why he gave it to me?”

He shuffles closer to you, grin widening a tick.

“I’ll… take that as a ‘yes’. But again, *why* the lying? Why give me the bells at all?” you ask, frustration leaking into your words.

Moon’s body shakes with silent laughter, completely unfazed by your scowl. “Sun’s a scaredy-cat~” he says in a sing-song voice.

“Oh, *is* he now.” You prop your elbows on the table and lean closer, eyebrows raising. “Okay then, why did *you* stick bells on me?”

“A gift.”

The lack of hesitation takes you off guard. “O-oh. Um. That’s… What’s the occasion?” Did you forget your birthday again?

“As thank you,” Moon says simply, any signs of mischief fading for a moment. “For staying behind to see me, and for bringing me new things to see everyday.”

Your jaw drops. “Seriously? You gave me something this important for a couple of books? Moon, it’s really no big deal, I *wanted* to do this. You didn’t have to-“

His eyes narrow into warning slits.

You try to protest some more, but all of your arguments die a pathetic death in the face of Moon’s stoic stare. “*Alright*, I get it, you can stop looking at me like that.” You fiddle with your braided hair, and the gentle chime spurs you to blurt out, “Thank you, I-I’ll take care of it. Promise.”

The warm glow in your chest spikes up to your face. If Moon’s spontaneous bout of giggles is anything to go by, it’s very noticeable. “Well, um! What about Sun? I don’t remember doing anything for him, so what’s his deal, huh?” you babble, the heat in your face growing worse by the second.

His grin turns absolutely predatory.

“Is he talking to you now?” you ask.

“Yes. Insists he did *not* mean it as a gift, and it is *not* for being so kind and patient with him for all these weeks.” If words could be eye-rolls, Moon’s would have popped out of their sockets by now. “Whatever you think he’s saying, it’s *not* that. His words, pinky promise.”

It’s so stupid. So stupid in fact, that you can’t hold back the belly laugh bubbling out of your mouth, and you hide your face before Moon can have more ammo to tease you with. “Oh my *god*,” you two are going to be the death of me,” you mumble into your hands. “But… thank you.”

You can hear Moon’s systems rumbling like a cat’s purr. You don’t see any outward reaction from Sun, but if you had to guess, it’d be a lot of huffing and puffing about making sure to take good care of your presents.

“Alright, enough of that.” You pull out the book from your bag. “Let’s get on with this so that you can start your patrols soon.”

The night passes by more or less as usual, with the exception of the comforting weight that accompanies you all the way back to your apartment. It’s almost like you have a piece of Sun and Moon with you…

When you go to bed, you make sure to carefully set both bells on your bedside table, where you’ll see them first thing in the morning. “Night,” you whisper before rolling over in bed, sleep overtaking you.

[inuhalfdemon]

Dirty Dealings (3/21)

Word Count: 1,962

Chapter 3: The Gossip

“But, I…” He swept a hand dramatically to rest on his chest. “Got my very first ‘crossroads demon’ moment.” He chuckled wickedly. - Alastor

Years passed and Addie LaRue continued to navigate her new-found life and its many challenges. Every year - to the day – on each and every June 25th, Alastor would visit her; wishing her yet another happy anniversary. He would offer her to close their deal; to give her rest from her miserable loneliness and collect her soul for his own. When she refused, he departed but not before offering her a gift; sometimes it was as simple as a new book to read or as meaningful as a pair of new shoes or clothes to wear. Addie hadn’t decided if this was something she came to appreciate from him or despise. Regardless, she persevered, determined to find her way in a world that was made to dismiss her completely.

______________________________________________________________

Despite having been busy with reaping souls on earth, Alastor still found time to enjoy a leisurely moment in Hell every now and then. He had grown rather fond of lunching or having tea with Rosie in Cannibal Town. He made it a point to stop in and share in a bit of gossip amongst her and some of the ladies there whenever he could.

It was a typical, hot and humid day there within the Pride Ring; no promise of acid rain or anything of the like. Alastor sipped happily at a cup of tea whilst Rosie and two of her cannibal-lady friends discussed the goings-on of the current reaping.

“…it’s put on by all of the Seven Deadly Sins, you know.” Rosie was explaining to the two women. “Every 10 years, eligible demons, sinners and Overlords are drawn and allowed to go to earth and reap as many souls as they can claim until the start of the next reaping. Of course, time works differently on earth. 10 years here, means 100 years there. Plenty of time to settle and collect from deals made.” Rosie paused to reach for one of the pinky fingers that was piled neatly on a small tray at the table they were all sitting. “Alastor here, is one of the Overlord demons participating in the current reaping!” She exclaimed excitedly. “And I’d say he’s already making a splash of things, what with having already passed the required quota by a landslide. He’s at the top of the collectors list, in fact!” She beamed back at him.

“Rosie,” Alastor smiled back at her, setting his tea cup down. “You flatter me. Why, from what I hear, I could learn a thing or two from you in the collecting of souls.”

Rosie blushed. “Yes, well….it’s been ages since I’ve participated. I’m much too busy keeping up with the souls I already have in contract.”

“WHERE’S ROSIE!?” A loud, grating voice cawed from nearby.

Alastor and the ladies all looked to see an ancient, cannibalistic woman shuffling right for them.

“Oh, dear…” Rosie sighed quietly before standing to meet the woman.

“Susan, dear. It’s good to see you.” Rosie greeted her warmly. “I hope you are having a lovely afternoon. Would you like to join us?”

“A lovely afternoon, my foot.” Susan said sharply. “Do you know that slut Linda went and got herself eviscerated by the hell hound that guards the butcher shop on 17th? What a dumb cunt.”

Alastor and the two ladies still seated at the table starred at the elderly woman, not saying anything.

Rosie touched Susan’s shoulder. “Now, Susan. I’m sure Linda did nothing to warrant the attack. Hell hounds are unpredictable at the best of times and that particular one is…well…I don’t think that necessarily makes Linda a…um…slut?”

“No.” Susan took a deep drag from the cigarette she was holding.  “She was definitely a skank.” She finished, puffing out a large cloud of smoke.

Rosie blinked at her, unsure of what to say next when she remembered her friends.

“Susan, I would very much like to introduce you to a good friend of mine!” She changed the subject and brought the old lady toward the table with her.

Alastor quickly got up from his chair to greet the woman with his best smile. Any friend of Rosie’s deserved his utmost manners. 

“Susan, you know all about the radio demon…” Rosie started.

“Ugh!” Susan groaned disgustedly. “Don’t get me started with that load of hog-wash….what a sorry excuse for a radio station, am I right? Maybe if it were just the screams but then we’ve got to listen to a wannabe Overlord and his fake, noisy, crackling static-filled voice. And, how unoriginal!? Is that mediocre broadcast actually supposed to be scary!? I tell you, Rosie, Hell was better in the old days. I’d eat my own ears off if it meant not having to listen to that racket ever again.”

Everyone was deadly quiet.

Um…”Rosie began, rather awkwardly. “This is him, Susan.” She gestured weakly to Alastor.

“Alastor…meet Susan.” Rosie finished.

His smile stayed in place, but his body was straight as a rod as he assessed the infuriating old broad before him.

 “….charmed.” His normally filtered voice had dropped it’s static; whether or not that was something intentional on his part, Rosie couldn’t guess.”

There was an awkward pause, in where nobody moved for several seconds.

Then, Susan took another long drag from her cigarette, slowly blowing the smoke out to the side of her mouth.

“Your broadcast sucks.” She told him sharply.

“OK!” Rosie said, quickly leading Susan away from the table. “Trudy? Jane? Would you both be dears and treat Susan to a lively round of Pinochle!? I’m sure you both could give her a real run for her money! What do you say!?”

The two ladies slid from their seats, and circumventing Alastor safely while remaining close enough not to appear rude, they took Susan with them as they departed.

Rosie sighed heavily as the women gathered up Susan and hurriedly left with her.

“I apologize,” Rosie started to say to Alastor. “Susan, can be-“

“BRING CECIL PALMER BACK!!!” Susan’s voice could be heard yelling away from them.

Rosie stood with Alastor, not saying anything anymore. He was perfectly, frighteningly still, a smile still plastered across his face.

One of his ears twitched slightly, then he asked her, “Is that one contracted?”

“I’m afraid so.” She told him.

“Well, that’s…disappointing.” He commented cooly, going back to take his seat.

Rosie breathed a small sigh of relief, before returning to her chair as well.

Alastor straightened the lapel of his suit jacket pointedly. “You know…it’s not like I can’t take criticism. I have bettered the quality of the screams I play a fair bit from my original broadcast, and the voice…is it still too static-y?”

“Oh, Alastor!” Rosie chided. “Don’t give it a thought. Susan’s a nightmare to everyone, even in Hell. Now, enough of that. I want to know more about your earthly exploits! Come on now, you must have some interesting prospects!”

“Rosie, you know I respect the privacy of my clients.” Alastor teased her.

“Oh, but I am terribly curious…”

“Well,” He sipped his tea. “I did manage to track down a handful of serial killers; you do know how I am partial to their ilk. I find their line of work quite rewarding…when done tastefully, of course.”

“Oh, how exciting.” Rosie giggled. “Anyone that may be of interest to me?”

Alastor sighed. “I’m afraid not. Cannibals are a lot less common these days, it would seem.” Flashing his ever-present smile at her, he added, “No reason I can’t do a little digging though, see if I can turn up any leads. Just for you, my dear.”

“Oh, you are too kind.” Rosie beamed.

“Oh, yes!” Alastor straightened, excitedly. “I almost forgot!”

With a sweep, he stood up from his seat and produced his microphone staff. Spinning it about with ease, he created a small portal. Reaching into it, he pulled out a clump of something. He stopped the cane and the portal disappeared. The something he had collected started to move and one, large bright eye opened up surrounded by a row of razor-sharp teeth.

“This little amusing treat is, Niffty!” He proudly exclaimed, sitting back down. “I collected her on my last outing!”

“Hi! Hi! Hey! Hello!” Niffty sputtered, jumping onto little legs to dart around the legs of the table and chairs.

“Why, hello, dear.” Rosie welcomed. “My, you are a quick thing.” She commented, watching as Niffty darted to and fro all about the town square.

“Is her name really ‘Niffty’?” Rosie asked, her large black eyes trying to keep up with the little creature’s movements.

“I have no idea.” Alastor admitted. “I call her ‘Niffty’ because I think she’s quite nifty!” He laughed.

“Alastor!” Rosie chastised him. “She’s not a pet!”

Rosie watched as Niffty picked at a line of ants going across the sidewalk near the table. A raven flew down and hopped close, interested in what she was doing. Niffty arched her back and hissed at the raven like a cat, sending it quickly flying away.

“At least…I don’t think she is…”

Alastor chuckled. Clearly enjoying his new addition.

He and Rosie sipped at their tea some more, enjoying the afternoon quietly together. Not much longer, and he would be on his way. He played his fingers along the tables edge before saying, “There is one prospect I have that is rather interesting…”

“I knew it!” Rosie cried. “I knew you were holding out on me! What is it!? Something…political. Oh, I do love a good scandal!”

“Really, Rosie?” Alastor, smiling but still showing his disappointment. “Politics?”

“Hey, it’s a guilty pleasure…” She shrugged.

“No, nothing like that.” He told her. “But, I…” He swept a hand dramatically to rest on his chest.

“Got my very first ‘crossroads demon’ moment.” He chuckled wickedly.

“Uh…what?” Rosie asked, confused.

“A mundane human soul came to me to strike a deal. A young woman, in fact. Her aching heart yearned for freedom from the entrapment of the threat of impending death. She wanted more time to see and experience the world to its fullest, to have limitless possibility and cast aside her mortal coils.” He drawled, snickering. “Oh, I gave it to her too. With a cleverly placed clause of my own, of course.”

Rosie starred at him, unsmiling. He was still chuckling to himself over his own antics, he didn’t notice.

“You’re joking, right?” She asked him, serious.

His chuckling subsided, noticing her stark lack of humor.

“Tell me, you’re joking, Alastor.” Rosie said. “You did not make a deal with a human soul that involved the lengthening of their lifespan.”

Alastor straightened, defensive now.

“What’s the big deal?” He asked. “She’s…human. She’ll grow tired of it soon enough; if she doesn’t go mad and-“ He pointed a finger, stopping Rosie from interrupting. “I added quite a nasty catch to the deal that makes it so she can never be remembered. By anyone. She’s left to wander the rest of her days utterly and completely alone. She’ll fold.” He smirked.

“I don’t know…” Rosie began, “That might work…”

He was becoming agitated.

“I’m not trying to…undermine you.” Rosie carefully explained. “It’s just…for a human to live a life beyond what is allotted, that takes power to do, Alastor. Power that will be directly coming from you. And, a pure soul…that’s something very different from making deals with sinners or demons.”

He was smiling, but he wasn’t happy.

“Look,” Rosie said, backing off. “I’m sure you’ve got it all under control. You are a powerful Overlord, you’ve got plenty of power to work with that’s for sure. And, I’ll admit…it is a very tempting prospect, it could turn into being a very profitable investment to you.”

He started to relax, his smile coming back as more genuine now.

“Oh.” He said. “I think this deal will be very rewarding.”

_____________________________________________________________

Chapter 4

[beemarvelous222]

THE LAST OF US - Ellie

I gently poke the firewood with stick to make sure the fire can hold on for a while. It’s not too cold, but cold enough that a fire is needed. Lately I’ve been feeling like things might actually be okay, we’re traveling to find Tommy, Joel hasn’t been too bad and Ellie has been… comforting.

I hear gently footsteps behind me and look back. Ellie is walking up to me and then gently sits besides me, close enough for me to feel the warmth radiating from her body. “Joel’s asleep.” She says as she takes the stick from my hands and bumps her shoulder with mine. “You should go get some sleep too. I’ll keep watch.”

I gently look over at her, pulling my knees up to my chest and shrug. “I’m not really sleepy.” I say as I take in the gentle details of her face. He brown deep eyes sparkle with the flames in front of us, the light and gently light makes her skin look smooth and warm. “You should sleep.” I smile softly and she rolls her eyes.

“Dude, I’m not sleeping.” She giggles which makes me smile wider and nod. Honestly I don’t mind that, her company is sweet and caring and honestly all I need right now. Since the day they found me, I’ve been in awe with Ellie. Her funny witty comments, her stupid puns and her sweet laugh. As much as Joel and I try to deny, Ellie has been growing on us quite a bit. She notices my silent as I look at her. “What the fuck are you looking at?” She giggled again and pushes me gently.

“Just looking at you.” I smile and stop her hand from pushing my again. “You’re just so beautiful.” I mumble and she stops a little as she looks back at me. I really hope I didn’t read her wrong, it’s a risk, but then again we have no time to waste these days.

“Dude…” She sighs and rests her hand on her chest and pretends to faint falling back. I chuckle and roll my eyes and lay back too. Our hands by our sides almost touching. “You are so cringy.” She laughs and I shrug.

“Just because the world is ending doesn’t mean I’ll stop being romantic.” I mumble and swallow hard, a small knot has formed on my throat. The fear of being rejected is big.

“Romance is dead anyway.” She mumbles and closed her eyes. I gently glance at her.

“Why do you say that?” I ask and she shrugs, not giving me an answer. I take the hint and look up again and close my eyes. The cricking of the fire comforts my ears, Ellie’s breathing soothes me and I just imagine a different world where we could be and do what we wanted, no infected, no fear, no FEDRA.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?” She asks quite abruptly. I shake my head and open my eyes to look at the stars beaming down on us. In the city this is an impossible task, here seems to have a life of its own.

“No.” I answer quietly, when I feel her pinky touch mine. I look over at her as she watches the night sky. I respond to her touch and gently wrap my pinky around hers.

We stay silent for a while. Just living in each other’s company.

I gently sit up, letting go of her pinky gently and look at her. She sits up as well, dusting her knees and looks at me with a little reluctance in her eyes. I shake my head and gently move closer to her. I reach for her cheek and stroke it gently. “Can I?” I ask softly.

She nods very slowly and I take that as I lean in and place a small peck on her lips. As soon as our lips touch, I feel a spark of energy flowing through my body. I realize she feels it too when her hand falls on my knee. Nothing I have dreamed of could ever feeling like what I’m feeling now. The softness of the kiss starts being replaced by some passion. Kissing her is all I ever wanna do. Forever.

I gently pull back, breathing a little heavy and rest my forehead on hers. I smile and chuckle and when I open my eyes I see her grinning at me. “What?” I ask and pull back a little.

She laughs. “Oh dude… you’re so into me.”

I smile and blush bright red and shake my head. “You’re delusional El.” I mumble and she moves forwards and kisses my passionately again, moving her body closer, resting her hand on my hip as I smile against her lips, kissing her back just the same. “Maybe I am really into you.” We both chuckle and pull back. I can’t resist and gently wrap my arms around her neck, hugging her tight and close my eyes.

“I’ve got you.” She mumbled as she hugs me back, wrapping her arms around my torso and just letting me hold her for a little bit.

[briefunknownnerd]

Happy Monday!!

I figured since It's the week of my birthday, I figured to give you guys a little treat. Today- of course- and on Thursday, the 16th. Below is the link to the new chapter if anyone prefers to read it on Ao3.

With all my love!

The Lion and the Lamb - Chapter 3 - Emssssssssss - Call of Duty [Archive of Our Own]

The girl made of stars gazed up at the round, pregnant moon. Her black hair fell in waves down her back, the robes she donned the color of freshly bloomed hyacinth. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She whispered to the boy made of the sun. His corn-yellow hair glinting in the moonlight. He leaned back on his elbows, white tunic scrunching up slightly. “I suppose,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “I don’t really understand why you like it so much, though. It’s… cold.” The girl made of stars shook her head, looking to the boy. “It's beautiful. I don’t think you’d notice beauty if it was two inches from your face.” The boy laughed, a bright and boisterous sound. He shook his head, laying fully back against the light surface of the asteroid they were on. His lanky arms stretched back, fingers reaching for the space behind him. The girl’s wings ruffled. 

“I would,” he countered. “I just haven’t found something of beauty yet.” 

The girl made of stars scoffed. Her knees curled to her chest, and she looked over at the boy. 

“How, in all of the years you’ve been here, have you not found something beautiful yet? We have the whole cosmos to explore… and yet nothing?” 

The boy made of the sun shrugged, his freckled shoulders rising and falling easily as if he had done it thousands of times. And in all the eons he existed, it had done it millions of times. 

“I’ve found beautiful things, I just don’t understand why the moon- some random space rock- could be beautiful. Especially Earth’s moon. It has all of those holes in it.” 

The girl made of stars sighed, shaking her head. 

“It is not holes. They are craters, from protecting earth from asteroids such as this one. She is like us, in a way. Protector of innocents.” 

The boy made of the sun rolled his golden eyes. 

“Whatever,” he grumbled. “I think the sun is more beautiful. It is warm, and keeps the little beings alive. Without the sun, there would be no moon.” 

The girl made of stars smiled at her friend. “Touche,” she chuckled. The boy made of stars grinned, and stood, stretching his arms to the heavens. His bones popped loudly. Once his arms were down at his sides, he offered a hand to the girl. 

“Come,” he said as she grabbed his hand, pulling herself up. “We’ve still got two more galaxies to patrol. We can see Earth again later.” The girl made of stars sighed, but let her wings stretch out in preparation for flight. 

“Very well,” she replied, letting go of the boy’s hand. The boy made of the sun smiled, and shot off into the sky. The girl made of stars followed suit easily, soaring through the cosmos with him. Their wings pushed them faster, harder, wind whistling in their ears. They dove and weaved in and out of asteroid belts, around planets that grumbled and groaned as they shot past. Their fingertips skimmed pools of starlight, splashing one another with a laugh. 

They zipped through the other galaxies they were supposed to oversee before heading back to the Milky Way. Past constellations and meteors, giving the appearance of shooting stars to the naked eye down on earth, thousands of miles below. 

As the girl and the boy paused to catch their breath on a star, they smiled at each other. The girl opened her mouth, but before any words could come out, she was tackled and falling off the star. The boy made of stars lunged for her, but leathery wings flapped in his face as a demon tried to take a tasty bite from his neck. 

The second demon snarled at her, grabbing at ripping at her robes. The girl made of stars let out a scream, but managed to wrestle an arm free from its leathery grip. She unsheathed her sword- Kavod- but another screech sounded from behind her. Another demon- larger and faster and stronger- leeched onto her back. Her wings flapped wildly, and she twisted, legs kicking out hard. It hit something, causing the demon to screech at an ear-piercing level. The girl winced away, squeezing her eyes shut as she felt blood trickle from her ear- a busted eardrum, most likely. 

She sliced with her sword, one demon’s head rolling off of its shoulders in a spurt of vile black blood. The larger one screeched, and bit into her shoulder. The girl made of stars cried out, and her world started to fade from existence. 

The boy sliced and stabbed his way out of his attackers, but seeing the girl go limp… he let out a roar, charging for the demon. The boy sliced its head, and dove for her. But it was too late. The demon had let go, and the girl went hurtling towards earth, too fast for even his wings to carry him. The only thing he was able to grab from her was Kavod. He let out a scream, reaching out for her even now, but she was gone. 

[msfcatlover]

You’re all going to be seeing these back to back (thank you queue,) but I wrote the Star Sapphire Damian post last week and have been doing more research on the corps. And honestly, I like it even better now?

First of all, ever since I found out how Lantern rings work (that is, being drawn towards the entities most filled with/fueled by/capable of inspiring the emotion the ring represents,) I’ve been really curious about what happens if someone doesn’t agree with the main philosophy of the corps, but the ring was drawn to them anyway. Because the Green Lantern ring only cares about strength of willpower, but the Green Lantern Corps is a political faction with its own rules, principles, etc. What if someone had one of the strongest wills in the multiverse but when they find out about all the other stuff they’re just like, “Nah. I’m good.”  …I mean, in the case of the Green Lanterns, I’m sure they all team up to take that person down and take back the ring. But literally what is stopping the ring from just flying back to that person? Or one of the other rings just flying about? And some of the other corps seem to place a much higher value on their core emotion than the rules they have in place, so would they let that person keep a ring that had decided that person was worthy even if that person wouldn’t follow their rules? (I am 100% certain this has been addressed in the comics at some point, but I don’t know where to even start to look for it.)

What I’m saying is: Damian doesn’t have to agree with the Star Sapphires’ policies as an organization to get the powers. Which is good, because Damian definitely would not be down for the whole brainwash-recruitment strategy. But he is still full of love & loss, he’s still driven by it, he’s still willing to make huge sacrifices for the sake of those he loves (case in point: as far as Damian’s concerned, none of his family even know he exists at this point in time, and by pursuing such a dramatically different path Damian can never recover even a facsimile of those relationships—the context is just too different, there’s no way they’ll ever see/treat him the same way they did before.) (Which is just some delicious dramatic irony. Especially because I get to reward Damian with people who did live through many of those things with him, and who care about him & understand him the very way he thought he was giving up forever. Much more damaged, scarred, and emotionally shredded versions of those people, but those people all the same. Who will be just as happy to see Damian as he is to see them, because each & every one of them lost him before and probably thought they had again when they found out the League was burning & Damian was fully MIA.)

BACK ON TOPIC! Damian is filled with love & loss, and could absolutely draw in a Violet Lantern ring. And the Sapphires seem to be one of those corps who care more about the purity & power of the emotion felt rather than the rules they follow, so there is a solid argument for them letting him keep it. And it would give Damian the equipment to personally stop the invasion, because he could force the generic Evil Alien Overlord to experience all the pain they made Damian go through. Not in a brainwashy way, but more in a, “Let me help you make a more informed decision by showing you what you actually do to people in your quest for conquest. Let’s see if you still want to pursue the same path after witnessing the other side,” sort of way. (Is that more of a compassion thing? Yeah, but you can’t tell me the Sapphires can force feelings of love into people to bend their wills and not expect me to believe they can make them feel other emotions tied to love, especially when having loved & lost is one of the things the rings prioritize.)

This requires me to make the non-green Lantern corps a much longer-standing thing than they canonically are, but fuck it, that’s a retcon that should’ve been made long ago; it does not make sense for the Green Lanterns to be this centuries-old organization and all the other (supposedly equally powerful & important) emotions only getting rings & corps in the most modern last few years.  Plus, it means Earth’s primary Violet Lantern would be a very, very small child, and I think that’s hilarious. He’s gonna adopt Dex-Starr, and then they’ll both make Hal Jordon look like somehow the least competent Earth representative.

[oswincoleman]

Key moments of Jenna Coleman's interview for The Italian Reve magazine

When we Zoomed, she wanted to know where I was calling her from, she wanted to know how my colleagues were doing, she was curious about me and about us. At that point, when Jenna showed genuine interest in the scraped white wall and green leaves on my background, and revealed a glimpse of her living room in her house, her happy place, I realized she is one of the most down-to-earth entertainment industry people I’ve talked to, so far. Perhaps, one of the most down-to-earth women I’ve talked to, as well.

Like her character in the latest project she’s starred in, the TV series “Wilderness” where she plays a control-freak, vindictive wife living in a constantly heightened reality, where she needs to be the perfect female counterpart to her dominating male partner. Or at least she thought she needed to. When Jenna wondered out loud, “What even is perfection?”, and I found I couldn’t answer to that question and, at the same time, I didn’t care to know, I realized that maybe things are really changing, like she said, especially for women and women in cinema. Starting from me, starting from her and the new generation of actors and young people in general whom we both look up to.

What I found is that each role brings its own challenges. In “Wilderness”, for example, my character is in such a held, heightened state of immense anxiety and pressure, so to hold that over the course of the three/four months of shooting, to keep that heightened energy was a challenge. I found that on “Wilderness” there was such an intensity because the whole show is based on a mechanism for which you have something bad that happens and the next one gets worse and worse. To keep Liv, my character, in that suspended state for so long was incredibly challenging.

 I did have empathy for her [Liv] and I understood her and I thought that what was so interesting was that it feels like a very “coming-of-woman story”. She’s someone who doesn’t really know herself or isn’t listening to herself, and is co-dependent, unsure, she will bend herself to what society expects of her, the life she thinks that she should be living.

For me, along the line of the six episodes, it became a very primal story of her reclaiming her voice, and herself, and her boundaries, and I think that, especially for my generation, these themes have become very common, formative and primal. It is a kind of “Woman hear me roar” story, the journey that she goes on, but she needs to go to the darkest depths to be able to get out the other side. All of that was really well done in the script, but obviously the challenge, which is absolutely mental about the series, is how you’re asking the audience to empathize and side with a character who does things that are very morally wrong. It’s interesting to try and get the audience on that journey, and that was one of the biggest challenges for me and the only way to do that is to try and get the audience to understand that: that’s one of the hardest things about the show.

You know, I took a beat after “The Serpent” and went into playing these angry roles [laughs], it’s interesting, looking back. I did a film called “Klokkenluider” which was so much fun, a real departure, where I play a really foul-mouth journalist who has these amazing speeches, and that was really fun, as well as “Sandman”; with Liv, it was great because it was all about the intensity of the time on set, and being in all of the time, your instincts take over, in a way, and you’re not as conscious, your creative flow is happening, and you’re in contemplation and let the other things happen and explore as an actor. With So and all the other directors I’ve worked with, it was was great, and I realized I can dip in, as long as I do the prep and the work. It was an incredibly emotionally exhausting part, but I have the confidence now to know myself enough, I have the ability to dip in and out, I feel like I know that as long as I do the work, the emotional range is all there and I know how to access it a lot better now.

Liv is in every scene in the series, I only went to Comic-Con for a few days, so I got three days off in the entire show. I remember we were shooting this bit where she goes to Las Vegas and falls in a sort of psychedelic trauma, she is hollowed out from the inside out, raw, broken, almost at the point of madness, and after that we went to Comic-Con, in the middle of it all, and that made me feel like I was literally the character [laughs]. The piece is very primitive and very visceral, there’s something so primal about the journey that Olivia goes on, she’s like a phoenix in the ashes. She’s driven to the point of madness, and there’s something Shakespearean and animalistic about it: it’s not only a cat and mouse dynamic between the husband and the wife, nor the phycological dynamics, but when someone’s pushed to such a point of emotional distress, the animal comes out and I think that staying in that state over the three/four months of shooting and the journey that she goes on is just fucking wild, basically. It was fun.

At the moment, there’s this common theme of murderers, I don’t know where it’s coming from, so I’d say let’s be done with the murdering [laughs]. I got offered another murderer role after this and I had to say no because I thought, “What is happening?”. What I’ve realized is that my characters in “The Cry”, “The Serpent” and “Wilderness” have all been in a very emotionally held, hidden kind of state, in a way; but I’ve recently watched “To Leslie” with Andrea Riseborough which I thought was phenomenal, or if I think about Victoria, they’re free, emotionally, so I’d definitely like to play something emotionally more volatile next! [laughs]

You’re biggest act of rebellion? Honestly, probably finding a way to say no to things. You’re biggest fear? I’m not a fan of spiders [laughs]. But my biggest fear is time. What does it mean to you to feel comfortable in your own skin? It means not to be shy, not to hide, not to be afraid to be seen. What’s your happy place? My happy place is home, with my partner, with a book, calm, with a fire.

From:

[that-one-rat-in-the-cupboard]

Warning! Good Omens S2 Spoilers ahead!

I was listening to sad-ish love songs today at work and started piecing together a poem, which I quickly realized could be used for post-S2 Crowley, and then this was born. I really like it and I hope you all do, too! Az is literally just me. I dress like that, Az is my name, the only difference is hair but I'm getting mine done on my birthday the same way story-me has theirs done. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

P.S. I'll be posting the poem on its own right after I post this if you wanna ty and analyze it or something (:

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

Talk, Don't Speak.

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

The pub was surprisingly packed for a Wednesday night. Nearly every seat was taken and the only reason Crowley had been able to secure a table to himself is largely because of the harsh glares he shot to anyone who dared try to sit with him. It was 7 p.m. when he finally found out why the pub had been so packed; there was a poem reading event tonight. His first thought was that this was something Aziraphale would probably really enjoy attending, maybe even being one of the readers. The thought alone nearly made him leave, but his curiosity won him over. He hadn’t seen anyone recite poetry since around the time Shakespeare was around. So he stayed, and he half-listened to the poets reading their works. None of them caught his attention very well, so he didn’t really bother listening much.

Then someone named Az walked onto the stage. They were dressed simply, but the outfit was still eye-catching. They wore a skin-tight black button-down, a loose white tie, a flowy black skirt that reached around their mid-thigh, white tights, and green high tops with various black sketchy designs drawn on the sides. They had a few piercings on their face and various bracelets lining their forearms. Some were leather, some studded, some were made of thread, and some even had beads woven in. They had a few silver rings along their fingers. Their hair was choppy and reached just past their shoulders, the very front pieces bleached white and the rest dyed black. 

What had initially caught Crowley’s attention was the announcer calling the person’s name, as it sounded like he was about to say Aziraphale, but, much to Crowley’s relief, and dismay, it wasn’t Aziraphale, just someone with an odd name. He rested his head back on his arms, fully intent on zoning out and continuing to drown his stomach with wine, but once they started talking, he couldn’t help but listen.

“Hello, everyone!” Az smiled kindly and waved to the crowd, one hand on the mic, “As you heard, my name is Az. I’ve been writing stories since I was a kid and I’ve been writing poetry since high school. Tonight I am going to be reading a recent piece of mine titled ‘Talk, Don’t Speak.”

They took a moment to take a deep breath, likely to calm any nerves they had, and then began to speak.

“I like you. Not in the way two friends like each other, though. No, I like you in the way whales like to sing. I like you in the way the stars like to shine. I like you in the way sea foam likes to border the shore. I like you in the way yeast likes to grow. I like you in the way I like like you…but it feels like you don’t like me the same. 

“It feels like you like me like a parasite. Feeding off me and keeping me here so you can grow and become stronger. You drain me of my blood, sweat, and tears, yet you keep me nearby. But that’s the problem, you don’t feel like a parasite. You being around fills me with light and warmth, two things I swore I abandoned years ago. Yet here they are, seeping into my lungs and my heart only when you are near. You break down the walls that I’ve built and warmed the cold blade of my heart. Then you left.

“It feels like a tincture but you’ve left me bleeding out on the cold wood of your living room floor. It hurts so much that I am compelled to say “Et tu Brute?” But if you were the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden, then I would be Eve, and I wouldn’t take just one bite. I’d devour you whole, unhinge my serpent jaw and swallow your smile, your laugh, your heart…saying it makes me wonder if ‘like’ is even the right word.

“…No. It’s not. It never has been, has it? I guess I just never noticed, but we both know I’m just a coward. I speak but I never talk. Can I talk to you one more time?

“I’ve avoided saying it for far too long, so I will say it now as my Holy Water tears burn canals into my cheeks and chin…

“I love you.”

The pub was quiet for a moment before people began snapping in applause. Crowley was frozen. Had this person been stalking him for 6 thousand years or something? Were they some demon or angel in disguise? They didn’t seem like they were…were they psychic? How on earth was their poetry so close to what Crowley had been dealing with lately? After Az took a bow, they exited the stage and the announcer took their place, announcing the next poet. Crowley’s eyes didn’t leave Az, though. He watched as they walked to a booth next to the stage with a few other poets. Az gathered up their coat and their leather bag before bidding farewell and hugging the walls of the pub before leaving. Crowley quickly followed.

They ended up stopping at a bus stop, sitting on the bench and patiently waiting for the next bus. Crowley sauntered over and sat beside her, “That was quite the poem.”

Az smiled softly and looked at him, “Thank you. I’m glad you liked it. Did it resonate with you?”

Crowley scrunched his face up a bit and shrugged, “Eugh, you could say that. Who was the inspiration for it?”

“Hm? Oh, no one.” Az smiled and turned their head back to the road. 

Crowley’s eyes widened and he quickly snapped his head to look at them, “What?”

“Yup,” they enunciated the ‘p’ with a pop, “None of my love-based poems are inspired by someone. Well, unless it’s a heartbreak one. Those are usually inspired by someone.”

Crowley sat up a bit more and waved his hand around, the one not holding a half-empty wine bottle, as he spoke, “So, that whole thing, not inspired by anyone? Anyone at all?”

“Nope.” she enunciated the ‘p’ once again. 

“Then how did you write it? Got the story from a friend and turned it into a poem?”

“Nope. I listened to sad love songs that aren't super popular. Love songs from people who aren’t famous or well-known or even have a lot of followers. I listen to songs from people who maybe have a few hundred or thousand followers.”

“Why?” Crowley didn’t understand, but he desperately wanted to now. 

“Because they’re the people I see every day. They’re the people that aren't rich. They’re struggling with things most other people do. They don’t have a trust fund and sometimes that music is the only thing they have to support them. They’re real. More real than nearly every famous person. I want to write for people who struggle and cry and laugh, and try to thrive when they’re merely surviving. People like me. I take what they say, as well as some of my own experiences, and before long the words are spilling from my fingertips and onto the page.”

Crowley stared at Az for a moment before leaning his head back to rest on the back of the bench, thinking. After a few moments, Az spoke once more, “You said you resonated with my poem, right?”

“Nn..yeh.” Crowly half-shrugged.

“Did you talk to them? Tell them how you felt?”

Crowley sat up, getting ready to leave as he felt deja’vu from his conversation with Nina and Maggie, “Course I did. Told ‘m everything and he left.”

“Did you talk to him, or did you speak.”

Crowley froze for the second time that night, his eyes gazing past his dark glasses and into bright hazel ones. He had spoken. It was unsaid, but they both knew. After a moment, Az turned to her leather bag and began to undo the clasps on the front of it, “I want you to have something.”

Crowley didn’t say anything as they pulled out a black, hard-cover book. Crowley’s immediate reaction was to say he didn’t read, but something ineffable convinced him to keep quiet, so he did. Az then held the book out to him, “You don’t have to read it, you don’t even have to open it. Hell, you can chuck it in the trash for all I care, but at least take it.”

Crowley saw from over Az’s shoulder that the bus was just rounding the corner. He hesitated, but they kept the book held out to him. He looked back into them and with how intently they were looking at him he could have sworn they were looking right through his glasses. Just as the bus parked in front of the stop and opened its doors, he snatched the book. Az smiled despite it and boarded the bus without another word. 

— — — — — — 

Rain pelted against the hood of the Bently, it being the only sound to accompany the intoxicated demon. His head was resting on the handle of the steering wheel, staring at the black book in his passenger seat. The back was facing up, and it only had a short sentence printed in white ink that read;

“Sincerely, 

Az R. A.

<>”

Crowley hadn’t touched the book since Az gave it to him over a week ago. It had sat in his passenger seat since then, collecting dust. He had debated throwing it out several times, but something in him refused to let him toss it. Finally, he decided tonight was the night he would at least read the title and open it. So he grabbed it, wiped off the little dust on it, and read the cover that was printed in the same white ink;

Az’s 

Total and Complete Collection of

 Love, Heartbreak, and Everything in Between:

A Guide.

Crowley huffed out a breath and flipped it open to the first page. On it was a short, hand-written note;

“To whomever I have given his book to, I hope it helps you. I wish you the best, and I hope the contents of this book provide you the words you need to Talk.

-Az R. A.

<>”

There was a date in the top right corner of the page. The note was from 2020. Crowley wanted to think about it for a moment, but that nagging feeling in him convinced him to keep going. To keep reading. So he did. There were poems about love heartbreak, and everything in between, just as Az had promised in their title. The book wasn’t long, but it was packed full of metaphors, clever lines, euphemisms, and most importantly…emotion. The last poem ended in the middle of the page with three dots, the right page completely blank, but the poem didn’t seem to be over. Hesitantly, though he didn’t know why he was, he turned the page to read the final line;

“In the end, this isn’t a guide. It is a mere suggestion.”

[princesspuffle8]

Tom Riddle Fanfiction?

So this is a prelude story that I thought of and I wanna know what you guys think? Yes Tom Riddle is a horrible man and a horrible person, but I love what if scenarios and what if things were different so I wrote this as a prelude to a story. Its not a self insert but let me know if you guys think it should be. My writing is a bit rusty so be kind, that being said let me know what you guys think. Do you think I should continue this series? Or would you like a more insight into the main characters (since Tom isnt the only star of this show)? Without further ado here is the fanfiction:

It’s been years since my defeat as the dark lord, of lord Voldemort and time has moved greatly in the mortal plain but has stayed stagnant here. I have come to know that the place that I reside in is purgatory and even after my sentence in purgatory, I will probably not be seeing the pearly gates anytime soon. Which was expected in a way after all I did. From here I have watched generations come and pass, each boarding the train in the afterlife moving on to a new plane of existence… a new beginning. Except for me, forever stuck in purgatory for the sins of violating the natural order. A fragmented existence who found its dwelling underneath a bench in the realm of the dead.

“Found you,” a girl sang as she peaked under the bench and she stared at me with solemn eyes that seemed to pierce what was left of my conscious. It was a pitiful look, the look of someone who pitied me, the man who had lost everything and all that remained was this grotesque degrading child-like figure, a husk of the great wizard I was, a shell meant to remain trapped in purgatory for my sins.  

“Go away,” I needlessly thought as I managed to hiss at her as if I couldn't speak and had become a feral being. Despite dying and splitting my soul to the point where it may or may not have existed at all, I still managed to keep my intellect from my previous life. Everything I knew about magic, everything I knew about the known mortal world was intact. Which in a way was a punishment on its own, after all why does having knowledge even matter when you're trapped in the land of the damned with no respite, knowledge means nothing here… words mean nothing here… not for the damned at least. 

And in spite of this treatment, the young girl, who looked no older than say the mere age of nine, sat on top of the bench and ignored my complaints, as if I did not exist and wasn't curled up beneath this bench. The nerve! Can’t she see that this place is being occupied! Doesn’t she have a train to catch… the train in the afterlife that leads to who knows where but anywhere would be better than her lounging around here.

“You know I’ve been looking for you for a long time now. Do you remember me,” she asked me, as I watched her legs swing back and forth without a care in the world. Ah to be young and naive.

“If you have nothing better to do than to pester an old man in pain, then leave,” I stressed my voice coming off as hoarse and not at all intimating like I would have liked it to be. 

“Geez you never got rid of that bad habit of tellin’ people what to do, did you?”

“What an impertinent brat. Do you know who I am?! I am the great dark lord, the Lord Volde…” 

“I know who you are. The others told me such sad stories about what you did, I know exactly who you are. And yet I had to see if it was true for myself because my Tommy could never… would never do such horrible things to others… not without a just reason,” she responded as my words got caught in my throat. There were very few people who knew that my given birth name was Tom, the muggle name that I loathed and discarded. There were even less people who knew the nicknames that I had growing up, as all of them had passed away early on and none of my followers would even dare to call me out of my title. 

“Who… who are you,” I asked, the thought escaping my mouth before could bite me tongue and swallow the intruding thought whole. I didn't want to know. I didn't need to know who they were, I just needed them to leave. To let me suffer my punishment in peace and isolation, to not see me for what I really was.

“You really don’t remember who I am, Tommy,” she sang again in that teasing voice that pulled on the recesses of memories that I had buried deep deep down in my conscious, so deep that I had forgotten that they were there, or so I thought. 

“Please… just leave…”

“Over the King’s dead body, I finally found you so I think Imma stay right here, I’ve waited a long time after all,” she said as her legs stopped swinging and the air around her changed from playful to serious, “You know I cant say that I’m not mad or not disappointed in you, you’re so much better than that… or least you could have been. And while that’s all in the past and water under the bridge, over the years I’ve come to realize that it must have been too painful for you to bear, my leaving that is. So what I’m trying to say is that I’m sorry I left you so soon, Tommy.”

A moment of silence swallowed us as the realization of who she was hit me square on like a dump truck and I could feel the husk of this stomach drop. She was the last person I wanted to see. Gritting my teeth, I doubled down on trying to get her to leave. After all if she knew what was good for her… no good for both of us, she would leave immediately. 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? Your name? You’ll always be Tommy to me…”

“Don’t call me that! That’s not my name! That person… that child is long dead… he died when you,” I nearly shouted unable to finish my sentence as a spurt of energy coursed through this husk of burnt skeletal body and I grabbed her ankle, sinking my long unnatural nails in her mahogany skin, deep enough to draw blood from if we weren't both already in the afterlife. 

“Ah so you do remember who I am, Tommy.”

“Please… I’m begging you… leave,” I protested, my hoarse voice barely above a whisper as I let go of her ankle and shrink further underneath the bench. Of all the people to find me in the after life and to visit me, it had to be her. Anyone, anyone at all would have been better than it being her, why did it have to be her. 

“I’m not goin anywhere so soon, so stop yappin about pointless things, its annoying,” I heard her huff as I watched her get up from the bench and get down on her knees only to stare at me in the eyes once again. My deep brown ones looking at her green hazel ones with little gold flecks in them, the irises of the one person I didn't want to see me like this no matter what.

“Geez you look absolutely horrid.”

“Am I supposed to thank you? If I look so repulsive then le…”

“But your eyes are still the same. The brown eyes that I love. Say, do you remember when we used to run around London and do all those gigs around town. You, me, Saoirse, Baron, Clyde, and Mildred; the six of us would rule the streets of London and…”

“Are you here to torment me,” I asked in earnest, didn’t the gods think I suffered enough, if there was any god out there why would they send her to me, why now of all times. 

“Do our shared memories pain you that much,” she asked me as if she didn't already know. Of course they pained me, her very existence being here pained me, she was my one flaw… the chink in my armor that I never let show. The memories, both the good and the bad, were all coming back as if they were seared into my very soul… which ironically I guess they were since that was all that was left of me at this point. 

“I see… that's unfortunate. Say, if you could turn back time what would you do?”

“I’m dead. You’re dead. It doesn't matter what I would do even if I could turn back time,” I scoffed at the idea. Did she think I hadn't thought of that when I was alive? The consequences were too great, the most any wizard ever achieved in turning back time was a couple days or months and even then that was at the cost of their mental sanity and they were never the same again. 

“Entertain me then since we are both dead and not going anywhere soon, what would you do if you could turn back time,” she asked again daring me to answer. 

Frowning, I opened my mouth to attempt to explain to the child that I would correct my mistakes in the magical world. Build a bigger following with a bigger backing. Eliminate the threats like Dumbledore early on, perfect the horcruxes and choose ones which were harder to detect, I would achieve my dream of a perfect pure blood magical world! I began to say all those things, but it all fell silent on my lips as I looked into her eyes. Her eyes with the shimmering flecks of gold that used to twinkle in the dark nights of the orphanage when we were starving and there was nothing to eat but scraps of moldy bread and weeds we found in the outskirts of town or at the parks. Her eyes that lit up when we sang merry songs to distract us from our stinging fingers that were exposed to the frigid cold while the six of us huddled together for warmth. Her eyes that were tear stained as she took her last breath and died in my arms. Looking into her eyes, I felt my ambitions die as I remembered why I had turned to the dark arts in the first place. It was for them, the three who shouldn’t have died, I wanted to bring them back… to have them back with me. 

“Tommy?”

“If I could turn back time, I would save you. All of you, you wouldn't have had to die like you all did. I would find a way to prevent it and then we could all be together again, just like before…” I trailed off. It was a naive wishful thinking of a child, the child I long thought I had killed and buried but here they were, confessing my true desires to someone I never thought I would see again. 

“All six of us together again, I like the sound of that. It sounds like a good dream Tommy.”

“Heh, yeah… a dream…”

It all started with that dream, huh. How did it get so distorted… where did it go all wrong?! Was it because they were muggles? Or was it my fault since I had magic and they didn’t. If they had magic too would we have all been able to be happy together? As these questions began to flow into my subconscious mind, I heard the sounds of the train horn honking as if it was coming closer to where the bench lied. 

Ah, someone else must be coming to be picked up to move on to wherever they go in the afterlife, I inwardly noted feeling a bit bitter and resentful that I couldn't get on that train and see what was beyond the confines of living like a troll under a bridge. 

“Hearing that makes me really happy Tommy. It proves that I was right all along and that my Tommy is still in there, despite all that happened,” she said to me as I watched her sigh in relief and take something out of her pocket that she placed in front of me. A small red bud of some type of flower was land down in front of me, as if she was asking me to make it bloom like I used to do when we were younger… even though I could no longer use my magic anymore, not here in this place at least. 

“What’s this?”

“A gift from the others and me. They wanted to come too but I wanted to deliver it alone personally… I have to go back now, the train is about to leave.”

“Please stay,” I found myself saying without a second thought as she gave me a sad smile but stood up nonetheless. 

“What is this, after all that cursing at me to leave you alone, you’ve finally admitted your true feelings Tommy,” she said trying to sound playful even though it was clear that her voice strained as if she was holding back tears as I dragged my injured body which housed my damaged soul out from under the bench to see her walking away from me, her back facing the train as she did so, watching me as she took a step and then another and another away from the bench which I had laid.

“I was wrong! I didn't mean it, I’ll be honest now so please don't go!”

“If I could stay, I would… but I cant. You’ll have to decide what you want to do from here on out, Tom Riddle. I hope you choose more wisely this time, because there wont be a second chance,” she said, all playfulness gone from her voice as she turned her back towards me and began to board the train. 

“No! Don’t leave me again… I don't want to be alone again… please. I’ll do anything so please don't leave me again… please,” I pleaded even though I knew it was no use, the train she had boarded was already taking off from the misty afterlife kings cross station, leaving me behind as usual. Only this time things were different, this time she was in that train as well. Traveling far far away from me once again, leaving me behind as always. 

Scuttling back to under the bench, I spotted the red flower bud that she left behind and honestly felt the urge to chuck it. What was the use of coming to visit if you’re gonna leave your garbage behind, the thought reverberated in the back of my head as I reached my hand towards the bud and touched the tip of the lower. Which almost immediately bloomed upon contact into a beautiful red lotus, a symbol of love. Only in this case it was a love that would I had lost so many years ago.

“You always did love irony didn't you, Iola…”  mumbled as I stared at the multi petal flower, only to notice too late that it was glowing and releasing some type of magic. Not that I could do anything since this place restricted my magic, the only thing I could do was just watch as the light engulfed me and my conscious faded once more. 

[torturedcoveydepartment]

I love you and I love your blog! I hope you have the most awesome of days and know how much you are appreciated! People are touched by your presence! You are a gift to this planet! Keep going, and stay strong! You are so valuable! May your positivity return to you in abundance! You are strong than you know! You can do, and conquer anything! Your beauty is infinite! All you desire is on its way! Things will work out, and in your favor! Each new day is a new chance to improve, grow, reflect and thrive. Believe in yourself! Know your worth! Own the incredible person you are! Be proud of yourself, who you are, and all your accomplishments! Smile lovely! You deserve nothing short of the absolute best! Have a wonderful day, and keep the positive energy going! Do something special for yourself! Even if it’s something someone else would see as insignificant. Pass the light, hope, love, and kindness onto others-even just giving a compliment, reaching out to another, a smile, a message, a note, anything! You are such a positive light, and to spread it is an inspiration! Thank you for everything love! Have a wonderful day!

MY JAW DROPPED. MY EYES ARE TEARING. I wish I could write back something similar, but this is truly the most beautiful piece of words I’ve ever received. YOU are the light shining brighter than a sun that never sets. A life bringing rose in a sea of thorns. Kindness is a timeless sculpture 💖 I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, and I want you to know your importance, beauty and worth. Not to mention your intelligence!!! Never let ANYONE take those things away from you. Like a candle that refuses to flicker out. Not enough words can be found, but you really are a sonnet sung my the stars 💞💞

[spacefinch]

Finch’s ramblings: Magic School Bus

This is a franchise I essentially grew up with. I spent hours reading the books in the classroom, and watched the entire classic series.

I used to own all 20 MSB chapter books. Each one was narrated in the first person from a student’s point of view. “Space Explorers” (narrated by Carlos) and “Penguin Puzzle” (narrated by Phoebe) were my favorites.

The first MSB episode I remember watching is “Goes Cellular”— aka the one where Arnold turns orange.

Phoebe was by far one of my favorite characters in the show. She’s kind and caring, and has red hair, just like me! Even better: she shares her name with one of my favorite birds. Naturally, I was very disappointed that the reboot excluded her.

For my 9th birthday, I had a Magic School Bus party— specifically rainbow themed. My friends and I walked around in a big cardboard bus, and we did lots of colorful activities.

I was more used to the show and the books published afterwards, so it came as a bit of a surprise when I read the OG books by Joanna Cole. Here were the main eight students, plus more that I still can’t keep track of.

Another one of my favorite characters (and possibly my first childhood crush) was Carlos. It’s partly thanks to him that I took an interest in telling jokes. (The other part that influenced my joke telling was my mom.)

The friendships in the show are the best: to this day, I’m still looking for those kind of friends.

Dorothy Ann was yet another favorite character of mine. I could definitely relate to her: always ready to infodump, and never comfortable without at least a few books on hand.

I found I could relate to pretty much all 8 students:

Arnold’s nervous/cautious personality and love of rocks

Ralphie’s imagination and energy

Keesha’s perceptiveness and common sense

Phoebe’s love of animals and her quiet, yet fierce spirit

Carlos’s sense of humor and stubbornness

Tim’s love of art and film

Wanda’s sense of adventure and unwillingness to back down

Dorothy Ann’s book smarts and curiosity

When I was 12, I had a seizure, which resulted in a bad fall and a stay at the hospital. It took several days to recover, and MSB was one of the things that kept me going during that time. While I did enjoy getting to watch multiple episodes in a row, I never want to have to go to the hospital again for a seizure. I’ve only had a few of them, and the only thing stopping me from having another is my prescription medication.

Looking back, I really appreciate the representation in the show.

It’s possible to headcanon all the main characters as neurodivergent.

Not one, not two, not three, but FOUR redheads (Ms. Frizzle, Arnold, Phoebe, and Janet.) And it’s some of the best rep I’ve seen.

I also liked how the POC students (Keesha, Tim, Carlos, and Wanda) were portrayed. They did have key trademark personality traits, but those weren’t based on stereotypes. Instead, you have: girl who’s super perceptive and good at getting to the bottom of a mystery (Keesha), guy who really likes to draw and photograph things (Tim), guy who tells the best dad jokes (Carlos), and a girl who’s more of a daredevil than any of the other students (Wanda.)

The disability rep was another plus. As I mentioned, I already consider the majority of characters in the show to be autistic or ADHD. I also enjoyed seeing Carlos’s little brother Mikey, even if he was in only two episodes. I like the fact that Mikey is a wheelchair user, but that isn’t his only personality trait. Given what I know now, I’d consider his personality to be: combination of Scotty from Star Trek TOS, Peter Parker from Marvel, and Hiro Hamada from Big Hero 6.

Other things I liked:

All the color! From the Friz’s dress designs to the kids’ outfits to all the places they explored, there was no shortage of color.

The references to other well-known things. By far my favorite is the entire “Out of This World” episode. The bus in its spaceship form looks just like the USS Enterprise, and the kids get to wear Star Trek style outfits. If you are a Trekkie, I would recommend you watch this episode if you only have time to watch one.

Well, it’s getting late, so I’d better turn in for the night. I hope you guys like this look at a key part of my childhood, and a tiny bit of personal lore.

[bonesandthebees]

I'm a fic writer as well and I've been toying with the idea of writing chapter by chapter as I upload (I usually write out the entire thing before I start posting)

anyway I was wondering how you (personally) approach writing chapter by chapter and what you'd say the pros/cons are of approaching a fic that way

I. I just found this in my drafts. oh god how long has this been in here I completely forgot about this. uh ANYWAY-

this is a really good question!! /gen

So for me, I’ve bounced between both those methods for fic writing! Up until I wrote nocturnal animals, I had a strict rule for myself that I’d only have one ongoing multi chapter fic happening at a time. Then if I wanted to write something else that would have multiple chapters, I had to prewrite it in its entirety to ensure I actually finished it and didn’t get bored because that was a problem I had a lot as a teenager. Then nocturnal animals happened and I decided to experiment with having two ongoing multi chapter fics at once, one just being a lot shorter and lower effort than the other, and I found out I could actually keep both going! So that was a fun revelation to have

Now I tend to prefer writing fics chapter by chapter since I know I can actually do it and still complete the fic. How I approach writing a chapter by chapter fic depends on how long I think it’s going to be. For my long form fics (ie: will likely be above 100k words like clinic, world forgetting, stars) I have to be extremely careful with how I plan them. I know the overarching narrative of the story, I know the ending and beginning, but I only plot out 2-3 chapters at a time so I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen to keep things exciting for me. For these stories I also have specific criteria they fill in my head to make sure I won’t get bored and abandon them. But if the chapter by chapter fic I want to write is ‘shorter’ (ie: will probably be between 20k-80k words) then I can be a little more relaxed since I know I can finish it relatively quickly, therefore I have a lower risk of not finishing it. So these I’ll usually plot out in their entirety ahead of time. No need for the mystery because I’m not gonna be dwelling on the story long enough to get bored of it. Of course I always let myself stray from my outline so I still end up adding a lot of stuff that wasn’t in my plan, but I have a solid list of plot beats to hit in each chapter before I even start writing the fic.

Now pros: overall, I like writing fics chapter by chapter a lot more. it allows me to form a stronger connection with the story and take my time with it. when I try to prewrite something, I find myself rushing a lot of parts just so I can get it finished. then, when I actually post it, I don't remember all the earlier bits as well so the comments I get on those just... don't hit as hard for me I guess? even if they're really nice comments, I just don't remember my own thoughts while writing the fic as well, so it's harder for me. whereas when I post a chapter or a one shot the morning after I finished writing it, it's still so fresh in my head and so I appreciate the comments a lot more. also, I can take my time and not rush specific arcs or plot beats, and I think it really improves the quality of my work.

(I think a really good example of this is if you compare my fics vanderlyle crybaby cry and honey and tangerines. although the plots were very different, I approached both of those fics with the intent to make it feel like an indie coming of age film. vanderlyle I prewrote in its entirety before I started posting it. tangerines I wrote chapter by chapter. yes, tangerines took several months to complete and was much longer than vanderlyle was in the end, but I think honey and tangerines is far better than vanderlyle in terms of overall quality. I'm far more proud of it, I feel a lot more connected to the work, and I just think I accomplished my goal with honey and tangerines, whereas I look back at vanderlyle and feel a bit disappointed with its lost potential.)

cons: writing things chapter by chapter is a lot harder and you're running the risk of losing interest and not wanting to complete it. you have to be very aware of your stamina and your interest in the project, along with how busy you are and how much pressure you'll be feeling to update it regularly. basically, you have to try it out and see what works better for you. if you've only prewritten stuff, I definitely recommend trying a chapter by chapter thing just to see how you like it. if you end up hating it? it's fic. no harm done. you never have to finish anything you write if you're just writing it for free. you don't owe anyone anything. but if you like it? well hey you discovered a fun new method for writing!

sorry I forgot about this question in my drafts lmao hope this helps!!

[snakes-writing-corner]

The Outside Looking In

Chapter 1: Observation

An ongoing self-indulgent OC fic with Nightmare’s Gang

-Summary-

Snake is a universe jumper from an entirely different multiverse unrelated to Undertale, who finds themselves curious at the constant battle between Nightmare’s Gang and the Star Sanses.

But what happens when Nightmare offers them a chance to join him? Well chaos of course! Follow Snake as they attempt to navigate this found family of skeletons as they simultaneously help them all through their own individual problems, and maybe the gang will help Snake through their own issues as well.

———————————————————————

The air was crackling with magic.

Watching from the top of a nearby building, using illusion magic to keep themselves hidden, was a tall cat-like figure. Their single cobalt eye in a silt while they observed the scene before them.

Multiple skeletons were fighting in the middle of this universe’s Snowdin. Two groups of opposing ideals that mercilessly traded blows with the other.

It was… fascinating to watch truly, while this universe’s residents were rightfully afraid of the powerful magic the skeletons had, I couldn’t help but watch. I rarely met monsters as powerful as the variations of the one skeleton I encountered all that time ago.

I first came to a variation of the original Undertale dimension out of boredom. No threats to any multiverses I normally dealt with had appeared so I wanted to take a small break, and boy am I glad I did.

When I first appeared I was curious, these universes’ rules differed so much from my own to the point souls could be used as an actual weapon, and it was fascinating the first time I saw it happen. I had gotten into a fight with Flowey when I first arrived and was able to see how my soul translates into these rules.

Flowey was easy to deal with and shockingly create a weird type of bond with, and he eventually explained the meaning of the types of human souls.

Patience, Kindness, Bravery, Justice, Integrity, Perseverance, and rarest of them all Determination.

Determination apparently allowed the user to quite literally reset the world. Whether to their last save point if they died, or all the way back to a certain point. However, it could only work if the user had enough and could lose the ability if another, stronger, soul of determination appeared.

I learned pretty quickly that my soul was quite different than most others, most likely because I’m not from this multiverse at all. While the main soul trait was indeed Determination there was also Perseverance and a bit of Patience merged in. I couldn’t reset probably due to a variety of reasons, but I don’t really care about that.

I felt something go by the side of my head, and turned to see one of the skeletons hit the ground a few feet away.

Ah, right, the battle.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen these monsters fight each other, the first time I saw one was a while back when I jumped into a different dimension. A version of Underfell in a pacifist timeline if I remember correctly.

I was minding my own business when a bunch of monsters started running from something, which naturally caught my attention. I mean I am still technically a cat after all, we are notoriously curious.

I remember hiding behind Grillby’s just simply watching, and soon enough I heard some laughing. A short skeleton with hollow eyes with something black streaming down his skull from his eye sockets that vaguely looked like tears. The weirdest thing was the glowing target on his chest which would occasionally twitch on its own, I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s most likely his soul. Honestly he kinda looked like the Sans I met back before I started doing some universe jumping to explore this multiverse, but a lot more spiteful. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that smile of his falter now that I think about it. I learned he’s called ‘Killer’ after observing for a bit.

The second skeleton that emerged was shorter than Killer, his name is ‘Dust’ if I recall. He wore his hoodie over his head most of the time along with what I think was once Papyrus’s red scarf. Unlike Killer he was a lot more quiet and calculated. I’ve rarely ever heard him speak, but I get the feeling he’s extremely troubled about something.

The third was quite literally the largest version of Sans I had ever seen, he was definitely taller than me by maybe a foot and could probably easily snap me in half. He had a single red eye that was almost as big as the eye socket it rested within, he also had sharper teeth than the other two. The thing that mainly caught my attention though was the giant hole in the side of his skull, it almost looked like someone had taken a hammer to it. His name was Horror, he apparently came from a timeline that was experiencing a horrible famine, to the point of, well, cannibalism to survive. At the very least he actually seemed the happiest out of the group so he has that going for him.

The last member I saw was definitely the most overdressed person I have seen in a long time, but hey he nails the outfit so who am I to judge? He wore a practically all white jacket, with black underneath, and a type of cloth coming down the back of the jacket. The way he carried himself reminded me of a guard of some kind so he was most likely a royal guardsman in his original AU. Getting a name for him was significantly harder than the other three, but with enough persuasion I managed to get someone to give me a name. Cross was the name he was given, and I knew virtually nothing about his past so he was a mystery to me.

The four worked well together, especially against their current opponents. It was quite interesting to see their fighting styles compared to each other.

Killer was more supratic and reckless in his attacks, but could easily come up with a different form of attack or defense on the spot.

Dust was more calculated and calm, playing more defensively than Killer’s offensive battle style. I noticed that Dust tended to dodge and wait for an opening to strike.

Horror was bigger than his teammates and opponents making him slower, but has more power behind his attacks. He didn’t use magic as much as the other three, instead opting to go for hand-to-hand combat or using his axe; honestly a clean hit from that weapon could probably take someone’s arm off.

Cross definitely fought like a royal guardsman, a mix of offensive and defensive pressure that was almost like watching a dance at times, he’d definitely been training his fighting abilities for a very long time. He also seemed to take fights more seriously than his teammates.

From the intel I gathered the four worked for a being called Nightmare, a protector and deity of negative emotions. I’ve seen him occasionally, most of the time only when he needs to step in to protect his henchmen. Nightmare was a completely black skeleton with a single cyan eye that seemed to pierce through any soul it looked at. He was covered in a black goop that covered his other eye, and had four tentacles growing out of his back made from whatever the goopy substance that encompassed his body was. He fed off of negativity hence why he sent his henchmen to torment AUs from time to time.

“Brother! Stop this!” A voice rang out.

Ah, speaking of Nightmare, that was his brother Dream wasn’t it?

The “Star Sanses” as Dream called them were a group that helped others in different universes for their own reasons.

The group consisted of three skeletons Dream, Ink, and Blue.

Dream was the leader of the group, and wore an equally eye blinding outfit to match his role as the protector of positive emotions. Being the opposite of his brother he fed off of positivity, unfortunately it seemed he developed an outlook of toxic positivity along the way, believing everyone should feel positive emotions despite negative ones being needed sometimes as a part of life. I couldn’t exactly blame the guy though, he meant well and just wanted to help others, but just didn't have the best way of going about it.

Ink was the group’s second member, a protector of the multiverse and a being with no soul at all. He can only feel with the help of the paint vials he carries on him, which are only refilled upon the creation of more universes, without those vials he can’t feel a single thing. He was also more interested in making sure timelines stayed on track with what was intended for their story, which is probably the only reason he helps Dream in the first place because he wants to make sure things stay on track. I honestly don’t think he cares for other people’s feelings whatsoever.

The last member of the group was Blue who was honestly the most approachable out of the group. I managed to catch him alone one time for a sparring session and it was pretty fun. Out of the three he’s the kindest and likes to believe anyone can change for the better, which is admittingly a slightly flawed view but I respect him for keeping to it. I honestly feel bad for him because he keeps pushing himself to keep up with the other two, sacrificing food and sleep to do so. I would honestly take him out of the group if I could. Blue’s a nice friend and sparring partner and his worldview is honestly a little refreshing compared to my own.

My ears flicked at the sound of groaning behind me. I turned my head to see an out of breath Killer wheezing on the snowy ground, damn he must have been hit pretty hard.

Looking back towards the fight and seeing everyone was distracted I decided to take a risk and dropped my illusion spell as I jumped down to stand beside the skeleton.

I awkwardly clicked my tongue as I knelt down to access the damage, Sans’ like puns right?

“Guess you could say the snow’s bone-chilling huh?” I said with a slight hint of awkwardness in my voice.

Killer wheezed from his spot on the ground. Well at least the joke seemed to land despite how bad the joke was.

“Trying to lift my spirits or something? You must have a death wish.” He said as his smile seemed to grow larger.

I rolled my eye and put my paw over his chest, it seems the idiot broke a few ribs. I noticed how he tensed up a bit at the contact as I started to mend the broken bones.

“Says the skeleton with multiple broken ribs laying in the snow.” I shot back.

“Got me there.” He said, trying to shrug before looking at me. “What’s a pretty thing like you doin’ here anyways?”

“Your group’s fights with the Star Sanses are interesting to watch.” I replied simply.

Killer smiled wider at that. “They’re quite fun to mess with.”

“So it would seem.” I responded.

I brought my paw back from his chest.

“Alright your ribs are healed, have fun fighting I guess.” I said dismissively, ready to use my magic to leave this universe.

Something didn't feel right. My pupil turned into a silt as I summoned my sickles and turned around just in time to block a knife from hitting my back.

“Don’t turn your back on a predator doll.” He said smugly.

I narrowed my eye and jumped back as he rushed towards me, his knife aiming for an opening as I blocked his attacks. I jumped back as he slashed downwards and quickly rushed at him and drew my blade across his shoulder. He continued trying to attack me and as I went for another attack-

PING

I looked down and my soul was blue.

“Son of a bi-”

I was suddenly sent flying backwards and landed roughly on the ground, immediately managing to use the momentum to jump back up into a fighting stance.

I whipped around and came face to face with Dust staring at me with an angry smile as he used his magic to turn my soul blue again.

“Nice shot Dusty!” I heard Killer shout from behind.

I growled and summoned my sickles, swinging so I nicked Dust’s cheek which surprised him so much he let my soul go. I turned around and slashed as I sensed the feeling of teleportation magic behind me, managing to get a clean hit over one of Killer’s eyes.

Before either skeletons could recover I disappeared into the ground and used my shadow-like form to reappear out of the ground a good few feet away.

I looked at Killer as we made eye contact, he smiled sadistically, his knife gleaming in his hand. I stared back and observed his movements, he’s relaxed so he most likely doesn’t think I’m a threat, seems to be treating this as a game more than anything.

After what felt like an eternity of this mock staring contest I felt someone grab my shoulder and shove me back, and before I could react a strong arm was around my neck in a headlock.

Cross stared back at me with a small glare before running off to help Killer. I tried to summon my sickles again, but my wrists were suddenly grabbed by an appendage and the pressure around my neck was suddenly gone.

I looked right into the cyan eye of Nightmare as he smiled at me.

“Oh no I don’t think so.” He said smugly.

I was suddenly grabbed by the ankle by one of his tentacles and held upside down in the air.

It was then I realized that Dream and the others must have retreated while I was healing Killer.

Unfortunate, but if I play my cards right I won’t die here.

“So what do you want to do with them boss?” Killer asked. “Kill em’?”

Nightmare hummed in thought before letting go of my ankle as I hit the ground with a thump.

“Not yet this one is… interesting.” Nightmare said.

I stood up from the ground and dusted the snow on my leather jacket off and shook my head to get the snow that built up on my fur off, flinging some on Killer in the process.

“Wh- Hey!” Killer exclaimed. “That’s just mean!” He said in mock hurt.

“Yeah well, shouldn’t have been in my way dumbass.” I responded coldly.

“Oh a bit of bite huh? Well let’s see if that’ll hold up in a fight huh?” He lifted his knife up as his soul twitched a bit more.

I looked down at his knife then back to his eye sockets. “No.”

Killer seemed a bit taken back by that and seemed to be ready to strike, before Nightmare grabbed his torso with a tentacle and lifted him up.

“As much as it would be fun to watch, I'm not going to let you get into an unnecessary fight when you’re injured.” Nightmare stated.

“Aw come on boss! It’ll be fun!” Killer smiled.

“No no let him, I wanna see him get his assed kicked.” Dust piped in with a smile.

Nightmare shot Dust a look as the latter seemed to falter just a little bit.

“Even still we need to heal Killer that crack along his eye looks pretty bad.” Cross said.

Nightmare looked at Killer’s eye before looking at me with a glare.

“Did you do that?” He hissed.

“I sensed teleportation magic behind me and attacked without thinking, so yes.” I sighed. “I should be able to heal it relatively easily, the wound should not be deep since I wasn’t aiming to kill.”

Nightmare’s eye widened in curiosity a bit before he put Killer down on the ground. “I’m surprised you’re able to show restraint in battle.”

I chuckled at that. “Oh no if I hit him with the sickle my robotic arm is holding it would’ve been far worse.”

I rolled up the sleeve on my right jacket to reveal a gray, metallic arm with a hard sharp, black material for the fingers.

I saw Cross’s eyes light up just a little bit upon looking at it.

“I don’t have as much control over my robotic arm so it’s easier for me to hurt people using it.” I said with a shrug.

Nightmare hummed in response. “You’re not scared are you?” He asked.

“I get if you wanna be perceived as such but honestly? I could care less if I die or not.” I shrugged.

Was- Was that a flash of concern in Nightmare’s eye? Whatever it was, it was gone as quickly as it appeared with a thoughtful expression in its place.

“Your emotions and soul are quite interesting to me. Tell me would you mind making a deal?” He asked.

I cocked an eyebrow at that, my eyes dilating slightly. “Depends on the deal.”

Nightmare chuckled at that. “I’ll offer you protection, a place to sleep, food, and whatever else you may want. In exchange for helping me and my henchman spread negativity and chaos across the multiverse.”

I thought for a moment, at least it wouldn’t be a boring experience by any means. Besides this group seemed fun and I have been missing causing a bit of chaos. If it was boring he couldn’t exactly stop me from leaving either.

“No killing I’m assuming?” I asked.

“No.” Nightmare replied.

“Eh sure.” I shrugged. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been able to just let loose and cause some trouble.”

“You can’t be serious.” Dust said baffled while looking at Nightmare.

Nightmare smiled as he opened a portal to his castle. “Now what’s your name?”

I rolled my eye as I chuckled and followed my new co-workers through the portal. “Call me Snake.”

“Well then, Snake, I think you’ll enjoy it here.” Nightmare said as he closed the portal behind us.

———————————————————————

Little shitpost I like to add at the end of my chapters :)

Killer: Remember one time I liked you?

Snake: No

Killer: GOOD CAUSE IT NEVER HAPPENED

———————————————————————

•Just a bit of ranting down below you don’t have to read it•

Oh boy I am like extremely nervous to post this-

This is like I said gonna be a self-indulgent thing, something for me to write to relieve stress and not have to read over and over again to fix mistakes (though feel free to point any out I’m always glad to fix them).

I haven’t written for Snake in ages and this’ll also be a practice in writing some characters I’ve loved for a long time now.

Will this fic have romance? Eh maybe? The main focus right now is platonic relationships as we examine the relationships and emotions of this current cast it might evolve into a romantic poly relationship over time though.

Also I want to establish that I will be leaving some lore about Snake’s past up in the air so I’ll be very loose with it and try not to go into the relationships of characters from my own story to keep the flow of this fic focused on Snake and Nightmare’s Gang.

Snake’s story is extremely complicated and does not fit the tone of this fic like at all so the most you’ll get is passing mentions of other characters and the occasional explanations (significantly watered down for the sake of this fic of course) about why Snake has some past traumas that will be explored later down the line.

One day I’ll explain Snake’s past in depth but that’s not for this fic so just enjoy this dumbass’s interactions with the Bad Sanses and don’t think too hard about their lore.

Anyways uh thanks for reading this I guess? I hope you at least like it so far if you took time out of your day to read it :) /gen

[thetoxicgamer]

Forget Starfield – the Most Important Space Game Leaves Game Pass Soon

As eager as I am for the Starfield release date, those of you who have Microsoft's PC Game Pass subscription have a more pressing deadline approaching. On January 1, Outer Wilds, one of the greatest space games ever created (and unquestionably one of the most significant, in my humble opinion), will no longer be available through the subscription service. Don't worry if you haven't played it yet; you still have plenty of time to see the wonder for yourself. Outer Wilds is a tough game to talk about because at its core it’s a game all about discovery, and the more you know ahead of time the less impactful that sense of wonder becomes. Nevertheless, I’m going to try, because I feel fairly comfortable saying that anyone with a penchant for space exploration owes it to themselves to discover this clockwork galaxy first-hand. To set things up, you step into the shoes of a Hearthian. This four-eyed creature is one of the inquisitive inhabitants of Timber Hearth, a planet somewhat akin to our own – albeit one that exists at Outer Wilds’ smaller scale, which feels perhaps comparable to the larger worlds of Super Mario Galaxy. From there, you’re tasked with making your first trip to the stars in a rickety ship and meeting up with your fellow explorers on the planets that inhabit your solar system. The hook – I even feel a little bad giving this away, but I’ve gotta give you something to tantalise your tastebuds and even developer Mobius Digital has been relatively candid about this by now – is that Outer Wilds traps you in a time loop. For reasons I definitely won’t tell you, you’ll set off on that initial flight over and over again, your only consistent progression coming from the knowledge you gain along the way. If that sounds off-putting, let me reassure you: Outer Wilds isn’t really a roguelike game. The reset feels more like a boon than a restriction – think of it like performing scientific experiments and making adjustments as you go. Wondering what will happen if you wander into that cave network slowly filling with sand, or jump headfirst into a black hole? There’s no need to worry about consequences, as anything that does go wrong simply brings you right back to tweak your plans and try again. Another critical part of your journey is the ship’s log, an ever-growing spider web of discoveries that keeps track of everything you’ve found, and even hints at what your current knowledge might point to. This means you rarely feel lost or overwhelmed, as your every revelation is kept safely organized, and provides you with plenty of possibilities for each subsequent launch. Outer Wilds - view from the cockpit of a spaceship looking out at the sun and several planets orbiting itThis frees you up from potential paranoia and lets your curiosity run wild. The galaxy is your toy box, and you’d struggle to find a more glorious chest of wonders. Every planet is a unique, hand-crafted puzzle box to unlock – quite literally so. Director Alex Beachum began the project in 2012 as a master’s thesis, building it out into the final project that was released in May 2019 to wide critical acclaim. Each of the locations you can visit – planets, moons, asteroids, and space stations alike – makes use of the progression of time in its own distinct way. Uncovering and unwinding the pieces comprising each of them gave me feelings almost no other game has managed, and that’s without delving into the existential contemplation that brought me to tears in its climactic finale. I couldn’t tell you exactly whether they were tears of joy, sadness, or perhaps everything in between – but Outer Wilds has stuck with me more profoundly than almost anything else out there. Bethesda’s space RPG promises the wonder of discovering over 1,000 Starfield planets. Elite: Dangerous lets you ferry cargo across huge distances, while No Man’s Sky generates you an unlimited array of unique locations to uncover. Yet Outer Wilds, one of the smaller-scale space games I’ve played, manages to capture the wonder of space exploration better than perhaps anything else out there. Among all the beauty of its design and the personal stories it tells along the journey, something that perhaps doesn’t get talked about enough with Outer Wilds is just how much fun it is to get around. The best advice I can offer to a new player is, “Just go for it!” While your initial steps will no doubt be tentative ones, as you get to grips with the game’s physics you’ll be able to use your jetpack to slingshot yourself across planets, just barely teasing on the limits of gravity as you soar right on the fringe of flinging yourself out into space. Outer Wilds achieves this because it isn’t afraid to eschew reality. This is a game that clearly draws from a deep love of science, yet it opts for the physics of fun over accuracy to the laws that govern our universe. Even at quick observation, it’s clear that a lot of the ways the physics operate aren’t realistic, but they’re just close enough to feel right on a surface level while giving you a level of control that nails the balance between challenge and frustration. Outer Wilds - Riebeck, an astronaut in a rudimentary space suit, plays the banjo by a roaring fireThis isn’t the first time Outer Wilds has left Microsoft’s Game Pass service – it was actually dropped in June 2021, only to return in January 2022. So we’ll hold out hope that it comes back again in the future, because it’s the sort of game everyone should have the chance to play. The Outer Wilds DLC, Echoes of the Eye, isn’t included as part of the Game Pass offering either – but don’t worry about that. For a first playthrough, I’d recommend just sticking to the base game anyway, as Echoes of the Eye feels more like a supplemental adventure designed to be experienced after you’ve explored everything the original release has to offer. If you do still want more once you’re done, though, it’s well worth considering. So, while we wait on the dynamic Starfield quests of next year, take some time this holiday season to visit Outer Wilds. I promise it’s worth your while. If you fancy some more irreverent space action, High on Life sales and Game Pass charts show that the new FPS game from Justin Roiland’s Squanch Games is already off to a rip-roaring start. Read the full article

[spoonieverse]

Linn's Lore: Goals, Dreams, and Spoonie Strength

Can you believe we’re already a week deep into 2024? I hope this first Sunday gave you a gentle start and that you’re ready for some söndagsmys. See, I’d like to invite you to one of my favourite corners of this world. Isn’t it beautiful here under my tree? Sir Bear made this space for me so I would have a place to contemplate our stories, reflect on whatever life throws our way, and enjoy the simple joys of being. 

I like to sit here and work on something I call Linn's Lore. It’s a diary of sorts, but nothing like the Ship’s Log I keep as the Captain of the Resilience. No, my Lorebook is personal, sometimes even private, and it’s where I can be myself and talk about my life as a spoonie author. Where I can dream, plan, and deep-dive into as many rabbit holes as I like in search of inspiration and knowledge. Today, I’ve got a nice pot of tea and a gorgeous apple cake, and I was thinking we could share them and have a chat about new beginnings, New Year’s resolutions, and the delicate universe we have created here in the space between dreams and reality.

New Year’s resolutions – they’re a bit like a double-edged sword, aren’t they? One side whispers, nay sings, of new beginnings and transformation. The other speaks, rather bluntly, of past failures and resolutions unfulfilled. As someone living with the daily complexities of chronic illness, I've learned to view resolutions not as rigid goals, but as my North Star, gently illuminating a path that's kind to both my aspirations and realities. And I’ve also taught myself that resolutions don’t have to be chores. You can add as many fun and uplifting things as you like - it’s your list!

This year, after a few years of only picking a single goal, I've boldly set my sights on a whole constellation of them. Well, why the heck not, I thought to myself when I sat here chewing the back of my pen. I’ve had the same goal for so long and now that things are beginning to pick up speed I feel like it’s sink-or-swim time. Some of my goals are private, but of the ones I can share, each one is shining its own light on us. In 2024, my goals are to:

Double My Writer's Income: This is a challenge, for sure, and it may sound like a shallow one at that, but hear me out. I’ve not been able to talk about this before, and I’m not going into detail today, but the long and short of it is that 2023 was the first year I made a small sum of money in book royalties. My primary goal is for our stories to reach more hearts and minds, but my secondary goal is to build something that can help me sustain an independent lifestyle as a disabled author. I am frugal and I don’t need much, so I believe this is a SMART goal.

Release 12 New Books: Some stories are waiting to be told, others are waiting to be edited, and I have been a pretty ynklig pet for most of 2023. This year something’s gotta give and I have to believe we will find a way out of here. I write with my Sir Bear. All my stories are his and all his stories are mine. In this world we have created we are one. Between us, 12 books (four of mine, four of his, and four from the Libertalia pipeline) should not be an unreasonable goal, but it all hinges on goal number 3.

Move Into a New Home: The Resilience is my spiritual home, and my heart has found a home in a sweet and very protective Sea Bear. However, as much as I love me ship and me Quartermaster, I do need a place to stay on this peculiar island that has been my home for the past two decades. This is yet another topic I’ve not been able to talk about, but you better believe I’m like a pressure cooker inside and shit wants out.

Focus on Health and Well-being: I need to see a dentist, I need new glasses, and I need to continue the work to find out what’s going on in my stomach. I need to get my meds sorted, and I really need to find a way to get some fresh air on a regular basis. It may not sound as much, but each of these smaller goals is a huge step towards an improved standard of living.

Listen to an Audiobook/Week: I don’t know if this one needs any further explanations, really. I will try to review at least half of them and I’ve made some templates to make it easier to post about it on my socials. For the longest time, I’ve been so bad at posting reviews that it’s almost shameful, but we’ll try to do better this year. I actually have the first short one ready to go. A solid 3-star read that I would love to share with my sidekick later this year.

Get My Crafting Back On: I can’t even begin to explain how much I miss my craft stash. It was boxed up for the better part of last year and it still is. Another reason I desperately need a new home. Sure, impending homelessness is a bigger concern, but sweet baby Fenrir I miss the creative process, the meditative headspace, and the joy of seeing my work find homes in other people’s lives.

Cook and Eat: I can’t even remember when I last cooked something, because of reasons, and I can’t tell you how badly I want to try new foods. Every flavour is a story and there are so many I need to consume. I have this dream, and yes this is more of a dream than a goal, but I would really love to be able to cook with my keeper again. Imagine if I got a new home that was accessible. Imagine a kitchen I could get in and out of. Imagine rooms I could get in and out of! I don’t have much ork on the best of days, but maybe, if we started small, I could…

Get Some Fresh Air: We don’t have it in London, but the dream is to move north and rumour has it people can breathe up there. After close to four years locked up in COVID isolation (yes, some of us are still shielding!) even a quick gulp of fresh air each day to remind myself of the world's vast beauty is something I dream of. And maybe this is the year it will be possible.

Do Something Fun Each Day: This is something of a mantra for me. I am a firm believer in mys, fun, love and faith as the four cornerstones of life. I am blessed in that I get to do the things I love and enjoy every day, but the goal for this year is to do more things I haven’t done before, and more things I’ve not been able to do for a long time. 

As a spoonie author, these goals are meant to lift my spirits and improve my quality of life. They are also my acts of defiance against the constraints of chronic illness and disability. Each day I write, each story I tell, is a testament to my resilience. To the power of my Resilience. In sharing this personal journey with you, I hope I can give you more than just a glimpse of my world. I would very much like to be the person who can hold up a mirror where you can see the reflection of your own resilience. 

If you are a normie who loves to read and/or write, I welcome you to step aboard my ship and sail into the vast unchartered waters we’ll be exploring this year with me. 

If you are a spoonie who loves to read and/or write, I welcome you to enter the vast parallel universe of the unwell with me. You can board my ship and move freely between our worlds.

If you don’t like to read and/or write, you are still welcome to my fikastunder here in this Sunday sanctuary of mine.

Whoever you are, whatever path led you here today, let’s step, roll, or jump into this new year together. May this be a place where our stories can intertwine, where our dreams can get a voice, and where, despite the challenges ahead of us, we can continue to create our own reality, one word, one breath at a time.

Until we meet again, may your days be filled with mys, love, fun, and faith. 

Love always,

//Linn

P.S. 

If you found something that resonated with you in my words, I have more where they came from. You can have my lore, tales from the realm of Ulfrheim and beyond delivered straight to your inbox. By signing up for my newsletter, you'll not only get a regular dose of stories, insights, and updates, but you'll also get an invitation to become a cherished member of our growing community of lovers of books and bookish things aboard my mighty pirate ship, Resilience.

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