#i have a row to my self thus far

[nebulousfishgills]

I can't believe I'm starting a new job today, then not even an hour after work tomorrow I'm gonna be in an AMC theatre watching Horizon on my own...

I don't even like westerns, this is really what I've become, huh?

[its-your-mind]

11 year old Gerry Kaey - a psychological analysis

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of two columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “First Name,” with “Gerard” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Last Name,” with “Kaey” listed below it. End ID]

Like everyone else, I was of course delighted by the presence of our beloved arsonist on our list of child test-subjects at the World Line 2 Magnus Institute (not delighted that he was having unethical psychology experiments performed on him, delighted by his presence. though it’s possible that this was actually a better childhood than he had with Mary. but I digress.)

(Data set can be found here, if anyone else wants to make a copy and play with it, and this post has my fave analysis of the sheet itself)

The data for Gerard Kaey was absolutely delightful, and it indicated more than almost anything else that some people were in fact the same (or very similar) across world lines. I was going to post about it and then I remembered that not everyone was forced to take a slightly outdated Educational Psychology class recently, and thus the random names at the top would not be indicators of fuckin anything without extensive Googling.

I figured trolling the internet for details on outdated developmental psychology theories and unethical sociology experiments is not most people’s idea of a fun afternoon (tho in the magnus fandom you never know); either way I figured I’d pull out the fun and interesting data on this goth child and translate it into human terms for us all to enjoy.

(QUICK NOTE: Pretty much all of these theories are outdated on account of being No Good and quite reductive and many of the experiments are EXTREMELY fucked up (all of which makes sense, given where these fictional data came from). If you’re curious about any of the actual psychological theories and criticisms, here’s a relatively jargon free summary, with further reading at the bottom. I’m gonna follow the time-honored tradition of psychology professors and say “well it sucks and was bad that this happened BUT it did happen and we might as well use the data to come to some general conclusions and/or ask better questions, especially about the people performing those tests in the first place.” anyway ty for coming to my TED talk ONTO THE GERRY DATA)

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of three columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “Kholberg,” with “Level 3” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Prosocial,” with “High” listed below it. The third column is labeled “Empathy Index,” with “95%” listed below it. End ID]

Let’s start here.

Kholberg’s Theory of Moral Development is a metric for measuring the moral development in children. It has three stages. A child who has reached the “third stage” demonstrates a consideration of the needs and feelings of others when making morality-based decisions and judgements, even above the norms and expectations of society.

Prosocial behavior is behavior that can be characterized as having no direct benefit to the person performing an action; something done entirely for the good of others.

Empathy Index is pretty self-explanatory (as far as I can tell, it’s not actually based on anything and is something the researchers created just for this experiment).

So far, we’ve got a rough picture of Gerry as a kid who has a strong moral compass, who is quick to help, even when there’s no benefit for himself. Who considers what the people around him might want or need. Who is able to throw social expectation out the window when someone else is in need.

Reminds me of that older, slightly different version of himself, sitting alone at a table in Venice, wearing a Hawaiian shirt because he’s “on vacation,” sighing in exasperation at the interruption and telling a stranger to think of her mother.

[ID: screenshot from a spreadsheet of two columns and two rows. The first column is labeled “Milgram,” with “Low” listed below it. The second column is labeled “Asch,” with “Low” listed below it. End ID]

These are my favorite rows. They’re all the way at the end of the spreadsheet, which kind of makes me imagine that the testers had this image of a highly developed child, a kid who seemed perfect for whatever they had planned. And then…

Milgram was the motherfucker who ran the experiment where people were told to press a button, and when they did, another participant was delivered an electric shock. (there wasn’t actually a shock in Milgram’s experiment, just an actor pretending to be shocked. The socks were fake, but the psychological damage was real!) The test was designed to measure how long people would continue to do what they were told by the “scientist” running the test, even as the electric shock appeared to grow stronger. A “low” score is indicative of someone who bailed out ASAP, no matter what the test-runner said.

The Asch Conformity Experiment put a large number of people in the room (most of whom were actors) and showed them a series of images of lines with different lengths, and they had to identify which was longest. The actors all gave the correct answer for the first few, and then all of them started to give the exact same wrong answer (i.e. all of them would say B, even if Line A was clearly longest). The test measured how likely a subject was to conform to the group opinion, even when they knew the people around them were objectively wrong, if they were the only one offering a different (but correct) answer over the course of several rounds of images.

I have this super clear image of little Gerry in a ratty pair of jeans and a band t-shirt, long hair absolutely unbrushed, walking into a room with a dude in a lab coat and someone else strapped to a chair and IMMEDIATELY getting suspicious, and just refusing to press the button again once he realized what it did, leaving the actors just… lost as to how to proceed. And then with the Asch test, he’s just sitting there with a look of incredulity on his face looking at the people around him and saying “do you people need fucking glasses all of a sudden? it’s not fucking B.” and just ignoring them for the rest of the test.

and all of the Magnus people who had been VERY excited about this promising young person all of a sudden realizing that they have accidentally recruited a VERY intelligent juvenile delinquent.

so there you have it! World Line 2 Gerry Kaey was kind when he didn’t have to be, he didn’t give a shit how other people felt about him, he cared deeply for other people, UNLESS of course they were people in authority, in which case he told them to go fuck themselves.

*dreamy sigh* that’ll be our Gerard

final fun notes:

Gerry has the second highest number on the Empathy Index at 95%

The only kid who beat him, with a score of 98%, was 9 year old “Samara Khalid”

10 year old “Conner Dyer” scored “Low” on the Milgram and Asch tests JUST like Gerry. I wonder if they were friends.

Other than that, Dyer is almost exactly average among the rest of the data

Khalid scored “High” on both Milgram and Asch

Wonder how that’s gonna affect things 👀👀👀 high empathy, high value on what other people think

Sam thats so autistic of you I love u

Khalid was also on “Level 3” of Kholberg and had “High” levels of Prosocial behavior, despite being only 9 (super young to have the abstract thinking necessary for that)

[burningvelvet]

one of my favorite excerpts from charlotte brontë's jane eyre (1847), taken from chapter 15:

"'You never felt jealousy, did you, Miss Eyre? Of course not: I need not ask you; because you never felt love. You have both sentiments yet to experience: your soul sleeps; the shock is yet to be given which shall waken it. You think all existence lapses in as quiet a flow as that in which your youth has hitherto slid away. Floating on with closed eyes and muffled ears, you neither see the rocks bristling not far off in the bed of the flood, nor hear the breakers boil at their base. But I tell you — and you mark my words — you will come some day to a craggy pass of the channel, where the whole of life's stream will be broken up into whirl and tumult, foam and noise: either you will be dashed to atoms on crag points, or lifted up and borne on by some master wave into a calmer current — as I am now.

'I like this day: I like that sky of steel; I like the sternness and stillness of the world under this frost. I like Thornfield; its antiquity; its retirement; its old crow-trees and thorn-trees; its grey facade, and lines of dark windows reflecting that metal welkin: and yet how long have I abhorred the very thought of it; shunned it like a great plague-house! How I do still abhor ——'

He ground his teeth and was silent: he arrested his step and struck his boot against the hard ground. Some hated thought seemed to have him in its grip, and to hold him so tightly that he could not advance.

We were ascending the avenue when he thus paused; the hall was before us. Lifting his eye to its battlements, he cast over them a glare such as I never saw before or since. Pain, shame, ire — impatience, disgust, detestation — seemed momentarily to hold a quivering conflict in the large pupil dilating under his ebon eyebrow. Wild was the wrestle which should be paramount; but another feeling rose and triumphed: something hard and cynical; self-willed and resolute: it settled his passion and petrified his countenance: he went on:

'During the moment I was silent, Miss Eyre, I was arranging a point with my destiny. She stood there, by that beech-trunk — a hag like one of those who appeared to Macbeth on the heath of Forres. 'You like Thornfield?' she said, lifting her finger; and then she wrote in the air a memento, which ran in lurid hieroglyphics all along the house-front, between the upper and lower row of windows. 'Like it if you can!' 'Like it if you dare!'

'I will like it,' said I. 'I dare like it;' and (he subjoined moodily) I will keep my word: I will break obstacles to happiness, to goodness — yes, goodness; I wish to be a better man than I have been; than I am — as Job's leviathan broke the spear, the dart, and the habergeon, hinderances which others count as iron and brass, I will esteem but straw and rotten wood.'"

[bcofl0ve]

new austin butler fan? start here!

hey there girl/pal/buddy/friend! welcome to the crazy train the endearing mad house that is the austin butler fandom. i joined the party after seeing elvis 2022 with my dad on a whim opened my third eye and have adored austin ever since. if you have any questions please please send an anon or send me a message, but i hope this post is useful as well!

media

congrats, i have a hyperfixation on being an update blog which means i have a masterpost of where to stream everything he's ever been in since he's started acting!

my personal favorite thus far is shocking no one, elvis 2022, but i'm really excited for everything coming out in 2024!

interviews

if you want to get to know austin the person outside of being an actor, i highly recommend checking out his episode of the marc maron podcast. content warning for talk about losing a parent- austin's mom who passed when he was 23 from cancer, and some allusions to domestic violence re: a step father. but that to say it's imo the most personal interview austin has ever given (and it makes me cry when i listen to it). i linked to apple podcasts but it's also on spotify!

austin's first ever interview from when he was 16 years old (article)

long- and personal, interview/profile via esquire from 2024 (article)

ruthie’s table interview - 2021 podcast with his good friend, chef ruthie rogers. some very sweet childhood talk in here.

austin butler drives greg williams back home (austin going back to his home town and visting his childhood home and elementary school)

austin butler plays with puppies - what the title says

in conversation: baz luhrmann and austin butler (article) - a very funny joint interview where baz and austin talk about filming elvis

austin butler @ the oscar nominees luncheon - the interviewer is jason kennedy, a long time buddy of austin's who also knew his mom. this was my favorite interview of awards season.

austin giving his publcist kate an honorary oscar - also from the oscar nominees lucheon press junket, so sweet! we love his ginger publicist around here (:

austin and lisa marie presley joint interview - lisa adored austin, and he mentioned in a different interview during awards season that when he was at graceland she took him upstairs for *3 hours*. if you're unfamiliar with the presleys, that is point blank unheard of for someone that isn't a blood relative. lisa passed away in january 2023 just two days after watching austin win his golden globe, and is very very missed. (lisa and austin at the globes)

another little lisa and austin interview, my personal favorite because of the hug!

so who's the girl?

austin is currently dating kaia gerber and has been since december of 2021! i'm working on a masterpost timeline of their relationship which will likely take...a while. but in the meantime the basics are that they like to make out in public while also being quite the private couple.

here is a very cute little video of the two of them after the elvis premiere at cannes and my favorite deuxmoi sunday spotting of all time- someone saying they were making out *in face masks* in line at erewhon.

like i said, they are veryyy private but that means the little tidbits we get are a treat! austin 'gushed' about seeing her walk in a celine show here, and here's a little clip of his smiley little self in the front row.

the two share a dog milo, who is the shining baby boy light of ausitn's life and came up no short of two billion times when austin was doing press for his ysl campaign this past summer. we love milo!

(and i also love that austin wears his gf's clothes sometimes, king!)

misc fun stuff

austin is close friends with ashley tisdale, and has been since the two of them met filming the movie aliens in the attic in new zealand in 2008. he's 'uncle austin' to her little girl jupiter, and they're also distant cousins!

speaking of aliens in the attic, 300 years ago in 2008 austin ran a little blog for his fans throughout filming which is just the darn sweetest most endearing thing to me. you can read the entries that i pulled from the wayback machine here and here.

some other austin-isms that i love

his habit of wearing shirts inside out

how everyone that works with him gushes about how kind he is

this little video of him when he was four years old

his dear sweet publicist kate having to hand hold his golden retriever self on track

the 27 he has tattooed on his wrist bc it was his late mom’s god number

and so many other things that would take me too long to list

if you have any questions that this post doesn't answer pls slide me an anon or a direct message! happy to have you here! <3

[silentmagi]

Rising Star

Main Page

Thank you again for all of those still with me, I hope you’re enjoying the story thus far. If you’re wanting to make suggestions for future parts of the story, please feel free to leave comments. I’d love to hear more about your thoughts! Last time, we were finding out how the information is given to Star, and the results show up that:

1 The mayor himself is more than happy to talk.

Sorry, this one got a bit long on me.

Having filled up, Star left Luna’s enchanting music behind to knock on the door to the Town Hall. The squat stone and wood building being only slightly better kept than the rest of the town. Instead of finding some bored bureaucratic servant barely awake at their post, she was greeted by the mayor himself.

“WELCOME! Welcome!” the portly man proclaimed as he opened the door and ushered her into the hall. “I’m Mayor Gregor, and welcome to Tricreek! I see your bard friend has drawn quite the crowd. Quite the crowd indeed. How wonderful!”

With a hearty laugh, he stroked the bushy white mustache that consumed the entire area of his face above his lips and going well into his rosy cheeks. “Now you must be curious about all the going ons about the town, I dare say.”

“Actually mayor, I was wondering if there were any messages from Castledale? Star Crescent would be the name they’d be under,” the poor mage student cut in gently, trying to be about her business.

“Oh of course, of course, pardon the mess, I gave the scribes a chance to go enjoy the bard, young people you know?” he chuckled as he meandered over to the shelves, and began going through one marked ‘Castledale’ above it. Pulling out a set of reading glasses he settled them on his nose and began going through the sheaf of papers. “Let’s see… No, no, notice of the college of magic being closed to new admissions temporarily due to the magic disruption, no, no, ah, here we are. A letter from the dean to you.”

Holding out the folded letter, she recognized the wax seal and took it. It was from the college, and probably important, however she felt like indulging the mayor. “Now that the official business is finished, I noticed that you have a druidic presence in town, were they a part of the founding?”

It felt odd, pushing off her duties and self-imposed quest to restore magic to learn more about a town that was so close to her goal, but she knew that her thirst for knowledge would not let her leave such a font of lore and wisdom untapped. Perhaps, there was something in the history that could guide her further in unlocking magic once again.

“Oh right you are! Sharp eyes on you, but that’s to be expected from a student of your caliber to be attending the university there with the dean’s attention on you,” the mayor praised her as he stood in front of the window, watching the bustling town center. “Oh it was many generations ago that the druids helped some farmers form the little village. Back then there was only a farmer’s market and town hall if you can believe it. We thrived due to trade, and the mill a ways up the road. That I suppose you might have visited, since you came in on their cart.”

Seeing her expression, he let out a laugh. “Oh don’t worry so much youngin’. It’s the way of the small town to know everything going on within minutes of it happening. Why I remember back in my day we knew that the old mayor was having a row with his wife before even he did! Real scrapper that woman, and their fights were the stuff of tales. Never could look at a cast iron pan the same again after their last one.”

“Was there a reason for their fights or…” she probed, curious about the nature of the fights..

The mayor let out a chuckle as he shook his head. “Oh, the usual, he was sleeping with her lover behind her back, and they hadn’t worked out the laws on multiple partners back then. There’s parts of the story that followed the fights I dare say would be topics of some books you’ve never read in the library.”

Not that she was going to correct him, but there was most certainly a very robust section of the library that she may or may not have had a browsing through between semesters.

“So, the druids?”

“Ah yes! The druids, wonderful folk. If you’re going to Castledale from here, you will pass one of their groves,” the mayor explained before tapping his chin in thought. “Yes… hmm…”

Turning back to the shelves, he began going through a drawer on the side, pulling out packages and looking them over before setting them back inside. “Perhaps you might do me a favor, young lady. It will only be an hour out of your way, and if you leave first thing in the morning, you’d be able to stay the night in the grove.”

Pulling out a rolled up piece of parchment, he peered through one end, reading the words before putting it back. “Forgive me, it has been a while, but we have some things to send to them, and have not had a chance to do so with the recent weather and loss of magic.”

“You said that it would be on our way?” she prompted watching him pull out a small tube and read the label on the side before putting it carefully back into the drawer.

“Yes, yes, quite right, a lovely grove, I took a trip there once myself, met my husband there if you would believe it. Ah!” he cheered, pulling out a scroll case with Celestial Grove on a tag on one end. “Here we are. My father-in-law is the head of the druidic order. Could you please take this to him. I’ll arrange for you and your bard friend to have a room at the inn tonight, and the finest meal on me.”

“Thank you sir, I’m honored to help you,” she offered, taking the scroll case from him. “Might you give us directions?”

“Certainly, certainly. It’s just up the main road out of town towards Castledale,” he began pointing in the direction they were heading. “There will be two trails to the right, and then one to the left marked with a flat stone shaped like a tree. Take that path and stay on it. The druids will find you long before you get to the grove and guide you the rest of the way.”

“Understood, thank you for the room and meal.”

“Of course! You are doing this town a great service,” he offered with a laugh before going into another story about the old days, never finishing his first one about the druids.

[custardcrazy]

sugar, sugar

summary: You’re Ted’s history tutor. After a study session in the library, he offers to buy you a slushie to thank you for your help - things happen from there. (gn!reader) 

wordcount: 2.2k 

A/N: please forgive me for somewhat ridiculous pacing on this one. also, my requests are open for bill and ted!!  (please help i’ve been stuck in writer’s block for god knows how long. also i love them) 

“And who’s the patron saint of France?” You asked, showing the notecard to Ted. 

It was after school on a Friday, so hardly any other students were still in the building. The librarian had vacated her post a good hour ago - you weren’t sure if that was allowed, but she hadn’t returned thus far. The only other people- or, person - in the library was one kid in the corner, poring over a ridiculously thick book.

Ted took a moment, face scrunching up a little as he thought over your question. “Uhh,” he began, “is it Joan of Arc?” His brow furrowed as he absentmindedly brushed some of his hair out of his face. He didn’t sound sure of himself in the slightest. “I dunno, dude. Or is it Napoleon?”

“Joan of Arc,” you corrected gently, giving him an encouraging smile as you showed him the answer. “That’s six in a row, Ted. You’ve really improved!” 

Since you were one of the top students in the honors-level class, Mr. Ryan had basically forced you to help out Ted with his studies. Things had been awkward at first, as you hadn’t thought much of him, having heard less-than-flattering things from your fellow honors students about him and his friend Bill. But Ted, being himself, had quickly endeared himself to you, and you could gladly consider yourself friends with him now. You’d met Bill a few times as well, but since he was being tutored by somebody else, you didn’t get to see him as often as Ted. 

At your compliment, Ted tilted his head downwards, hiding beneath his bangs in a move that could only be described as bashful. “Thanks, dude.” 

Amused, you shuffled through the cards again. “No problem. Just one more to go, don’t space out on me just yet.” 

“ ‘Kay,” he answered meekly, looking as if he was attempting to regain his composure. Though, as he peeked at you, you could still tell that his face was a bit pink. He was pretty much an open book; even if he tried to hide his feelings, anyone with basic knowledge of human emotion could tell what he was thinking. It was kind of refreshing, actually. And also kind of cute. 

“Alright.” You dispayed another card to him. “Who was the creator of the Mongol Empire?” 

This time, Ted brightened up. “Oh! I know this one, it’s easy.” The embarrassed look was gone in an instant, replaced by a grin. “Genghis Khan, right?” 

Flipping the card over, you nodded. “Yeah, that’s it! Nice work.” 

Seemingly happy at his small victory, Ted’s smile persisted. You couldn’t help but return it; his attitude was contagious. Brown eyes met yours, crinkled up at the corners. And abruptly, time seemed to still. 

You were aware that Ted wasn’t exactly ugly, but. Had you actually looked closely before? Not like this. He was kind of -- 

pretty?

Wait, since when had you -- 

“That’s all for today,” you said, after a beat. You focused your attention down at the table, suddenly feeling self-conscious, as if he could read your thoughts. “Like I said -- you’ve improved a lot, Ted. I think you’ll do alright on the final, at least.” Aware of the fact that you were speaking just to hide your own increasing awkwardness, you began to clean up your notes, paper rustling as you did so. 

“You really think so, dude?” Ted beamed, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice, even though you weren’t looking at him anymore. (But you wanted to.) 

“Maybe I won’t flunk after all! That would be totally mortifying, after all the effort you’ve put into helping me out, dude.” He was so genuine, as always, but it somehow felt more special now. Of all times. “Thanks again, dude.” 

“It’s no big deal,” you insisted, tucking your stuff into your bag before closing it. Finally, you glanced at him -- his eyes had been on you the entire time. “You’re not nearly as bad as some of the guys on the football team, y���know. One of my friends got stuck with one of ‘em.” You lowered your voice as if you were telling him a painful secret. “This guy in particular has terrible hygiene.” 

“Bogus.” Ted made a face. “I seriously hope that your friend is okay. That sounds odious, having to deal with unsanitary sports dudes.” 

“Oh, I’ve heard enough to know how it is.” Standing up, you swung your bag over your shoulder, before pushing in your chair. Mostly on reflex. You shivered to remember being yelled at for forgetting to ‘leave everything as you found it’... Maybe it was a good thing that the librarian was conveniently absent. 

Ted did the same, and you walked side-by-side out of the library. 

It was perfect outside, and the parking lot was pretty much empty. You checked your watch - 4:30 PM. Ted stilled next to you, and you looked over, meeting his eyes.

“Well,” you said, somewhat stiffly. “We actually ended a bit earlier than usual. Did you study on your own time?” You didn’t say it out loud, as it would probably come off as rude, but your expectations were pretty low when it came to Ted. He was a hard worker when he wanted to be, sure, but that was hardly ever. Most of his brain was occupied by Led Zeppelin and various other bands. Which was delightful, but not when trying to get him to memorize other things. 

The boy shifted where he stood, looking sheepish. “..Maybe a little,” he answered. “The flashcards you gave me really helped, dude. The little drawings on the back, too. The stuff you said about me being a ‘seeing learner’ was right, I think.” 

Huh. He actually studied? “Oh, I thought so -- wait.” You looked at him quizzically. “ ‘Seeing learner’?” 

“You know, uh.” Ted floundered for a moment. “Like, um, learning stuff faster if I see, like, pictures of them? I think?” 

It took you a second to figure it out, but then it clicked. “Oh. Ted, that’s a ‘visual learner’.” 

“Oh,” he said. “Yeah, that.” 

You couldn’t help but snort, which somehow seemed to bring a smile to his face - the reason why being unknown to you. “Right. Keep it up, then. Like I said, I’m pretty sure you’ll pass the final, as long as you have a general idea of what the historical figures did.” You’d already informed him that basically paraphrasing the textbook would probably work, as long as he loosely stuck to the theme. 

Ted nodded, his shoulders bobbing with the movement. “Stellar.” 

“So, uh, you heading home now?” He asked, shy once more. 

“Probably.” You shrugged. “It’s not like I have anything else to do.” 

“Then,” he said, and you quickly took notice of how he was beginning to rush his words. “Do you wanna -- I mean, if it’s okay with you -- I can buy you, like, a slushie or something? At the Circle K?” You opened your mouth to answer, but he kept talking. “If -- if it’s okay with you, dude. Even if you are acting most indifferent about helping me out, I wanna, like. Thank you properly.” 

... You had to admit, you were kind of touched. 

Also, did your heart just skip a beat? What was going on? 

“Sure, if you’re offering,” you said, mentally patting yourself on the back for how nonchalant you sounded, despite the fact that you were also really confused at the same time. 

“Excellent,” he replied, pretty much instantly perking up. If you had to describe Ted in as few words as possible, you’d probably call him a golden retriever. Was that degrading, though? “Let’s go, then! The walk isn’t far, I go from here to there with Bill all the time.” 

Ted ambled off, and you followed after him. 

-- 

As he’d said, the walk wasn’t long, and before long, you were sitting outside the Circle K, on the curb. Ted had paid for both of your slushies, and though he hadn’t mentioned it, you were flattered that he did, despite the fact that he didn’t exactly have a lot of money to his name. 

The way that he’d frantically rustled through his pockets for a five-dollar bill said it all. 

The plastic of your drink was cool against your hands, and you took a sip from the straw. You’d picked your favorite flavor to be safe, as you hadn’t had a slushie for a decent while - but you still enjoyed it all the same, thankfully. On the other hand, Ted had chosen a mixture of flavors that you still weren’t sure if they were safe to combine. 

“Is that edible?” You asked him, after taking another sip from your drink, and gesturing to his. 

“Sure is, dude,” he proclaimed proudly. “After loads of experimentation, I believe that I have found a magnificent combination of slushie flavors.” He smiled at you brightly. “It took all of last summer! Bill still thinks that it tastes gross, though.” 

“Huh.” You couldn’t even remember what he’d put in it. “Mind if I try, then? To see if Bill’s right.” Also, to sate your own curiosity. You weren’t quite sure if Ted’s slushie was radioactive, but even if it was, there was the chance that it was as good as he said it was. Even if the chance itself was slight. “You can have some of mine, too. Fair trade.” 

He gave you one of his jerky nods, and you exchanged slushies. 

You hesitated a little, before trying his. 

It... 

It wasn’t half-bad, actually. Maybe you could even call it good. 

You turned to face him to say so, about to give the drink back to its rightful owner. But you found him, just. Looking at you, like he had while you were talking back in the school library. He was still holding your slushie up, as if he’d just taken a sip from it. 

“What?” You asked. “Do you really hate that flavor or something?” 

Your voice seemed to snap him out of whatever reverie he had been held in, and he shook his head, dark hair flopping around. “Nah, it’s not that, dude, I just --” A pause, in which you waited for him to continue, now feeling somewhat apprehensive. 

“I just realized, like. Sharing the drinks and all...,” He trailed off, and okay, he was going red, you realized. “Sorry, it’s stupid.” 

“What, are you sick?” You urged, now more worried than anything, moving to give the slushie back to him. “Hey, it’s alright, just --” 

“It’s not that either! Like I said, it’s dumb!” Ted interrupted, and now you were officially confused. It probably showed quite plainly on your face, as he hurriedly focused his eyes on your slushie in his hands. Part of you wanted it back, but now you were mostly just concerned for your friend. 

“What is it, then?” Hoping that you weren’t coming off as harsh, you frowned, lowering your voice a little. “If it’s bothering you like this, then it isn’t stupid, Ted.” You’d finally gotten through to him, and his shoulders sagged. He mumbled a few words that you couldn’t hear. 

“Ted?” You asked, hoping he’d speak up. 

You had to strain a little to hear his next sentence. 

“ ... The whole, um, ‘indirect kiss’ thing,” he muttered. “With sharing straws.”

Wait, what? 

“What do you mean by that?” You pushed, and okay, he was hiding behind his hair again. This was new. You were suddenly aware that your heartrate was increasing. “Is there.. something wrong with that?” 

“ ‘M sorry, dude.” He took a steadying breath. “You’re a very intelligent and  helpful tutor, and you’ve really helped me a lot -- wait, you already know that, I’ve told you that before - But that’s all to say that --” Ted ceased his rambling, eyes snapping up to meet yours. 

“Now that I’ve brought up kissing, dude, I just gotta say that I have been most infatuated with you for the time we’ve known each other.” A beat, in which you merely blinked, stupefied. Ted kept talking. “And I.  I’d, like, really like it if we could actually, like. Kiss. And stuff.” His face was a pretty pink. 

It took a moment for it to sink in. And suddenly, it all clicked. It all made sense now -- how Ted always seemed to become shy when you complimented him. How he always turned his full attention on you when you were talking, even about stuff he found extremely boring. And how when he made you smile, he returned it tenfold. 

Had you really not realized this before? Maybe you were the one who needed tutoring, you thought.

Ted was still looking at you, though, awaiting an answer. He was beginning to shrink in on himself, and you couldn’t have that. Even if his confession was pretty sudden and completely out of nowhere. 

So you delicately placed his beloved drink on the curb next to you. 

Ted’s breath caught in his throat as you moved closer, taking a moment to cup his face, his skin warm against your fingertips. As soon as you made contact, regardless of how soft it was; he folded, maybe a bit literally, eyes automatically fluttering shut as you leaned in. 

At first, he was tentative. Unsure. But after the first kiss, which was rather short and cute, he was much less tense. Your hands carded through his hair, and he pulled you closer.

[ut-versotale]

A Trip Down Nostalgia Lane

This AU's been in existence for so long, and the most current iteration is so wildly different from the rest. As such, I felt it'd be kinda cool to show you guys how the AU's progressed over the years. I don't think it's too big of a problem to reveal what the initial plans were for each iteration, what I liked and didn't like, and my thought process behind forgoing the old ones

If you don't particularly care for all that, here's the iterations' major characters lined up. (Iteration 4 I only have revealed Asriel and Undyne, so the rest I've designed so far are silhouetted)

Iteration 0.5

Oh boy, where to begin with this one...?

I number it "0.5" and not "1" because there were only two parts that never even officially released on this Tumblr blog. I did upload Part 1 for an April Fool's joke a while ago. But really, it was only ever present on the TS!Underswap Discord server over half a decade ago.

To put it bluntly, Versotale at this point was just a reskinned Undertale roleswap AU. The personalities, while I tried to keep them intact, were not the main driving force. As such:

Asriel is a silent protagonist (And not in a cool clever way like Kris; I mean just straight-up silent)

The only difference with Undyne as a narrator was noting that Frisk was a human at the first save point

Flowey had a more formal speech pattern but was otherwise barely affected despite carrying Chara's consciousness. They weren't even named Asthana yet.

Frisk... well, I can give my past self this, he certainly made an effort to differentiate Frisk from Toriel. I can't say he did a GOOD job at that, but they certainly were different. Awkward dialogue, though, and not much sense behind why they were the mayor of the Ruins at 13 years old

Overall, you can 100% tell I made this as a young teen. Awkward dialogue, barely any effort put into the concept, unoriginal...

It's pretty easy to see why I forewent this version of the AU. Only two parts were ever made. I must thank @beethovenus who gave me a lot of very helpful critiques, such as giving Asriel a voice and making original sprites rather than using sprite edits, as well as encouraging me to make this Tumblr blog for it. Thus, brings us to what I'd like to consider the first PROPER attempt at this AU...

Iteration 1

Ah, this one... this ALSO lasted only two parts. Can't remember why. But I made a lot more headway on this one. Quality aside, I am happy that I had the guts to try and make original sprites of my own back then, even if they aren't particularly good compared to now.

This was where I really attempted to make the characters act noticeably different. Though there were still quite a lot of problems, some that would even persist all the way up until Iteration 4.

I wanted to give Asriel a combination of his regular and Flowey personalities. A cool idea on paper, but the lore doesn't support him acting like that well enough. Thus, I refer to this version of him as Sassriel. This was one of those problems that persisted up until Iteration 3.

Undyne having this snarky back-and-forth with Sassriel. Again, cool idea on paper, but it is not supported by her personality in Undertale, nor the altered circumstances in VT Iteration 1. Also, with Undyne being a disembodied consciousness, it means she's merely an observer of the story and not an active participant, meaning her dialogue got very boring very fast. Undyne in canon was always an active character, so putting her in a role that basically FORCED her to be a passive character was maybe one of the worst decisions I could've made that lasted way too long, all the way until Iteration 4.

You'll notice a whole bunch of characters that never actually saw the light of day in the comic. In the bottom row, starting from left to right, there would have been Pepper (Who DID have a design but I've lost it), Donavan, Dr. Aakil, Lily, and Queen Alice. There's not much to say about them story-wise since I mainly just got the designs down, and you can probably guess what the plot was gonna be like given this was the early days of the AU where it was still very much following the Undertale formula. I think the only UNIQUE things I should mention are that Aakil's version of the amalgamates would've been cyborgs.

Iteration 2

This is the one that's lasted the longest (so far), managing to push its way into the Cold West. I tried to break out of the Undertale formula a tiny bit with this one, to varying degrees of success. There's not much history I can recall or find with this iteration, but I suppose I can give a character rundown of the ones you never saw, ironically enough all positioned on the bottom row again.

Donavan... not very unique compared to Undyne. The main gimmick that separated him from her, I think, was that he had gloves designed by Aakil that were soul-powered.

Valencia... a new character who was meant to be an expanded version of Napstablook's role. Fun fact: Valencia's hooded trenchcoat design there was originally Pepper's Iteration 1 design.

Everyone else was... about what you'd expect.

Looking back on this version, I am... honestly very embarrassed by how badly I butchered the Cold West. I wanted to do so many cool things, like a bounty on Asriel's head and all. But my God... Spade and Pepper sucked so much. Especially Pepper. For characters who at this point were meant to be this AU's replacement of Sans and Papyrus... what poor substitutes.

And honestly, I think that's why I scrapped this one; because I hated the Cold West and how I did it. It felt rushed, awkwardly-written, bad characterization, horrifically-bad puzzles, etc. Thus, Iteration 3 was made.

Iteration 3: Hybrid

I nicknamed this short-lived one "Hybrid" for multiple reasons.

It's where Deltarune became an extremely prevalent influence in Versotale's universe. So no longer is Versotale just an Undertale AU, it can also be considered a Deltarune AU as well.

Many characters could be considered hybrids at this point. Asriel and Undyne shared determination and a body. And, more interestingly, the Mettaton role also shared a body with Mettaton. More about that in a bit

When I was making Part 10-B of Iteration 2, Iteration 3 was meant to flow naturally into it, effectively replacing all of what had came beforehand. That never worked out.

Ultimately, I abandoned this version because it just simply wasn't doing it for me. By this point, the project was beginning to feel stale and boring. Despite my attempts to make a new unique storyline, it just kinda... felt like it was still following in Undertale's footsteps far too much. I mean, you've got the protagonist kid, an old fallen member of their species, the double-crossing flower, a mentor who's lived in a secluded area all their life, a chef who wants to join the guard, a tough grizzled guard captain, a morally-dubious scientist, a celebrity, a monarch... you see how I became dislliusioned with the quality of what was supposed to be my "Unique Undertale storyline." The most unique thing at this point WAS probably Spade. But still, many elements of this version of the story were very fleshed-out. I tried to turn Pepper into a character who wasn't just a bargain-bin Papyrus clone, I had come up with a more unique Hotland area, and it probably could've turned out really nice.

I think the thing I genuinely really liked from this old version was that Shella (This iteration's celebrity character) actually was also possessed by Mettaton. There was this huge backstory thing where the scientist character had monster dust and was injecting humans with it, and since Mettaton was a ghost, his consciousness became attached to Shella's and served as her sort of "assistant." He gave her all the tips and confidence to become famous and gave Mettaton the opportunity to indirectly entertain humans like he always wanted. While a cool idea on paper, having... well, essentially Mettaton technically in the same place as canon Undertale again just felt cheap and lazy. Not to mention it only continued my disillusionment with my "unique story" being far too similar to Undertale for comfort.

But the Surface shenanigans this iteration... man, for as weird as Gaster being king was, I had such a cool thing planned for all the Ebottobia characters. It's something I wanna carry over into Iteration 4 to a certain extent.

Iteration 4: "King Asriel"

This one's really freaking cool. Going back to the drawing board completely, the story resembles almost nothing like Undertale's, with the sole exception of the main premise: People underground, free them from imprisonment through peace or violence.

I'm so proud of these ideas so far, you have no idea. The new Ruins area I'm excited for, the new Cold West feels like an actual proper flowing storyline now, the other areas have way more uniqueness, the characters feel like their own characters with their own stories now (Even the ones that appear in canon), the plot feels completely different... I think you all are really going to like it

That's all. Just felt like taking a trip down memory lane and share some ideas and designs the public never got to see.

[thana-topsy]

@incorrectskyrimquotes I have actually written Neloth getting fucking decked in the jaw and it was incredibly satisfying:

[From chapter 5 of "Breathing Water"]

“Thus is the folly of love.”

“Folly?” Teldryn huffed before mumbling, “I should have figured as much."

“The most unstable of all emotions,” Neloth continued, beginning to take off the heavier aspects of his robes and light armor. “Wars have been waged in the name of ‘love’. Poor idiots, like our camp’s previous owner, have wasted away in the name of ‘love’, and to what end?”

“I, for one, am not about to stand in the freezing north of Skyrim and argue with you upon the merits of love.” Teldryn knelt to rummage through his pack.

“Oh, I know you’ve been a victim of it. Your melancholy is thicker than a guar’s hide, and far less useful, might I add.”

“What would you know of it?” Teldryn shot back, hackles raised, and Neloth couldn’t help but smile to himself. The mask was beginning to crack.

“Tell me, did she leave you for someone else? Or did she find your fame to be too much?”

“Don’t,” Teldryn growled in warning.

“How pathetic would it be to find out that, all this time, the great Nerevarine, savior of Morrowind, was camping out in a filthy little bar in Raven Rock because some trollop broke his heart.”

“She was murdered!” Teldryn yelled, his voice echoing off the icy cliffs to the south. “Is that what you want to hear?” He’d gotten to his feet, shoulders heaving with each ragged breath. “You want me to talk about it, yeah? That’s what you’ve wanted this whole time. You want to hear about how my pregnant wife was murdered? Cut down by assassins who were sent for me ? How a life I could have had was ripped–” His voice cracked and he coughed, looking away, fists clenched at his sides.

Neloth pursed his lips, eyes narrowing. “And over two-hundred years later you’re still wallowing in self-pity?” He scoffed. “Like I said. Pathetic.”

Teldryn moved so quickly that Neloth barely had time to register what had happened until the ground was rushing up to meet him, the hard chitin of Teldryn’s bracer imprinted across his jaw.

“And what do you know of loss!?” Teldryn was standing over him, fists still clenched. Neloth attempted to sit up when another burst of pain exploded across his temple as Teldryn punched him again, harder this time, grabbing and twisting Neloth’s scarf in the other hand. “What do you know of suffering!?”

Neloth’s mouth flooded with iron, and he spit onto the ground, a shock of red across the white snow. He smiled cruelly up at Teldryn. “I know that it’s a weakness that can be exploited.” He spat again. “Just as I’m doing now.” He expected it this time, dodging the next blow and using the momentum to pull Teldryn to the ground as he scrambled to get up, already gathering magicka into his palms. He let out a grunt as one of Teldryn’s knees collided with his stomach and sent him sprawling once again; his spell charges faltered and dropped away. Another fist to his face, this time the other side. Teldryn rolled to straddle him, scarf dislodged and hanging loosely around his neck. He balled the front of Neloth’s robes into his fists.

Teldryn shook as he spoke. “You don’t feel anything, do you!?” His voice had a hysterical edge, and Neloth thought, distantly, that perhaps he’d pushed too far. “I doubt you’ve ever loved anyone as much as you love yourself, and, from what I can tell, you hate yourself!” Teldryn dropped him, pushing to stand and Neloth groaned, rubbing his tender jaw as Teldryn continued. “You can’t experience anything other than selfish need, and you want everyone to be as miserable as you.” He spat on the ground near Neloth’s head before turning away, stooping to grab his pack.

“What are you doing?” Neloth cast healing on himself.

“I’m fucking leaving,” Teldryn snapped. “I’ll walk back to Windhelm if I bloody have to. Get on a boat. Row back to Solstheim. Leave you here to rot like I should have to begin with.”

-------

Would you believe me if I told you I get them to kiss later in this story?

[underfell-misery]

RUINED

As Frisk began to follow behind the seemingly kind beast, they couldn’t help but fidget with each of their fingers. They were following from a healthy distance, but couldn’t help but feeling guilty for it. They hoped Flowey was wrong about her, and that this place and its inhabitants weren’t that bad. Rather than malicious, Toriel seemed almost skittish at heart, unsure with a waver in her voice. Something had happened to her to make her this way, and Frisk was determined to find out what. They believed anyone could be helped with enough care and patience.

“Frisk!” Flowey whispered, drawing their attention back to the grumpy flower in their pocket. “N-Not that I care or anything stupid like that b-but….” He blushed a bit, looking around as if to check no one would see this moment of weakness. “You’re… bleeding on your leg.” He huffed out. Frisk hadn’t noticed, not even feeling the stinging of the cut on their leg. It was about 6 inches long, and relatively deep. They must have been pumping with adrenaline for so long that the pain hadn’t set in.

“O-Oh-“ They looked at their thigh, biting their cheek. “Shoot, I hadn’t noticed… I’ll be alright, Flowey.” Frisk smiled warmly, patting the flower’s petals gently, even as he growled at the gesture. “I’m sure Toriel will have a bandage of some kind.”

“I told you- you can’t trust her. Don’t get too comfortable with her or start asking for favors. She’ll use it against you, no doubt.” Muttered Flowey, shifting in their pocket. Frisk frowned, looking back down at the stone under their feet.

“… I think I’ll make my own judgment about that.” Said Frisk, their face hardening as they sped up just a bit to follow Toriel. As they caught up, against Flowey's quiet protests, they gently grabbed Toriel’s paw, holding on to the matriarchal figure. This clearly caught the monster off guard, making her turn back to Frisk. After a moment of ogling at them with a smile, she just nodded and turned back, continuing their journey.

“My child, there are several dangerous monsters and puzzles down here, which you may have to conquer on your own. But do not fear, I will teach you how to be self sufficient with this puzzle, which has a specific path to avoid it’s spikes.” Frisk looked ahead, seeing the puzzle in question, making them gulp thickly. It was rows upon rows of spikes the size of their own body, rusted from time and use. It was a tetanus shot waiting to happen, or worse, being impaled if they stepped wrong. Toriel noticed their fear and chuckled, “Do not be afraid, dear. I will lead you thro-“ Interrupting Toriel was a loud,

”RIBBIT.” Both Frisk and Toriel turned around seeing a black and red frog-looking creature. Frisk smiled upon seeing it, thinking that so far, other than being enlarged and red, it was the most familiar beast they’d encountered thus-far. Despite this though, they felt Flowey quivering in their pocket.

“Oh-! It’s adorable-!” Frisk started, before being blinded by a bright, hot light quickly passing by them, hitting the frog with the force of a thousand suns. Within only a moments time, the creature was engulfed in a flaming red fire. The frog screamed and writhed in pain, rolling around to try and put itself out. “NO-!” Frisk immediately moved to help it, but was stopped when Toriel grabbed their wrist. When looking back at her, Toriel’s face was stone hard, watching the poor creature burn. Despite showing little emotion in her face, Frisk could swear they saw a hint of glee upon seeing her own work. Frisk’s eyes immediately glossed over, tears threatening to start rolling down as they watched the brutal scene. They couldn’t believe it, how quickly and carelessly Toriel had taken a life. “Wh-… why-“ Frisk started to say.

”They were merely a threat, my child, willing to harm or kill you for your soul.” Toriel stated emotionlessly. Frisk started to object, tears in their eyes, but quickly felt a tight squeeze on two of their fingers. Looking down, they noticed Flowey using a small vine to squeeze them, shaking his head.

“Don’t.” He whispered, his own eyes filled with tears. He’d seen this countless times before, he knew the outcome of rejecting Toriel’s ideology. Despite how cocky he’d been earlier, now all he showed was fear. Frisk hesitated, but slightly nodded, squeezing their eyes shut and sniffling.

“Oh my child, do not worry, I will not let anything cause you harm…” She said, kneeling down to Frisk’s level, wiping their cheeks of tears. “Come now. Come with your mother to safety.” Mother. Only 20 minutes with her and she’d already given herself such an important title, despite harming others on instinct. Frisk wasn’t even mad, they were worried. They worried more about how she came to be so hostile to others, to believe everyone was so cruel. They stammered, but despite their own fear, suddenly hugged Toriel tightly, hoping to provide comfort for both of them. “Oh-!” Said Toriel, but quickly melting into the hug. “Come now, little one, we must tread on.” She said, patting Frisk’s head. Frisk sniffled, just nodding and holding her hand as the monster led them through the path.

Along the ruins, they ran into several other monsters, all of which Toriel murdered in cold blood, each kill more emotionless than the last. While humming down a long corridor, as if not covered in the dust of monsters who stood in her way, she suddenly noticed the gnash on Frisk’s leg.

“Oh my child you-“ She suddenly growled. “What wretched beast did this to you, child?” She hissed out. Frisk immediately started shaking their head.

“N-No one, no one hurt me-“ How could they anyway, Toriel had murdered anyone that came close. No one even stood a chance, even if they did try to attack, which a few did. But despite this, Toriel didn’t seem convinced, her gaze hard and judgmental. “I s-swear. It was from the fall…” Frisk said truthfully. Toriel paused before her expression softened, her body relaxing and the burn in her eyes fading.

“Ah, well, in that case.” She said, looking forward, “I must leave you for bit and fetch you a bandage. I hate to ask this of you, but will you be alright on your own for bit without me?” She said, her voice kind as ever. Frisk nodded nervously and forced a smile. “Good. Now be a good child and stay here. To contact me, I will give you a cell phone if you need me.” She said, pulling a small flip phone out and handing it to Frisk. Frisk nodded again and took it, and upon opening it noticed Toriel’s number was already programmed in. They put it in their pocket, careful to make sure it wasn’t the one Flowey was currently hidden in. Toriel leaned down and gingerly kissed their head before rubbing their shoulders and turning to leave. Frisk couldn’t help but smile at the action, feeling a flutter of hope for a better person deep down in Toriel. “I will return, stay here, little one.” She said as she left the corridor, her figure fading into the darkness ahead.

”thank GOD.” Said Flowey, finally poking his head back out of Frisk’s pocket. “Remind me when we get out of the ruins to find me a pot or something, its so stuffy in this damn place!” He said with a huff, dusting his petals off with his leaves as if they were hands. Frisk chuckled somberly,

“I’m sure we’ll find something suitable…” They said in a quieted tone. They hung their head down though, falling silent. Flowey frowned, thinking for a moment. After a considerably long silence, he spoke.

��I’m sorry.” He said quietly, making Frisk perk up. “I’m sorry that she wasn’t what you were hoping. She… wasn’t how I hoped, either when I foun….” He stopped himself. “…When I met her, either.” He said with a blush. Frisk looked down at him,

”’Found’ her…?” They said quizzically, beginning to walk down the corridor despite Toriel’s warnings, hoping she was now far enough down the path to not run into her again. Flowey was quiet, but eventually spoke again.

“… That’s a story for later, kid. I’ll tell you when you’re ready.” He simply said, and Frisk, hearing his tone, decided not to press further for now. As they walked, hiding behind a pillar or two to avoid any Whimsums or spiked Looxes, they chatted further.

”So, why do you wanna get out of here so bad?” Frisk Questioned, trying to make conversation.

”Have you SEEN this place, Frisk??? Jesus it’s a hell hole down here, filled to the brim with dust ands despair… And I’ve been around Toriel too long, and she despises me… It’s constant danger every night when she comes to that hole in the mountain.” He muttered.

”She goes there every night…?” Frisk said, slowly pushing a rock on the path to a stepping stone to complete a puzzle that blocked their way.

”Every night. Convinced she hears another human fall… Says she can hear them screaming. She lost her mind long ago.” He said with a soft sigh, hanging his head low. To change the subject, realizing that this weighed heavy on Flowey, Frisk decided to ask something different.

”So then.. what’s beyond the Ruins? Have you ever seen it? It sounds like you’ve been stuck here for a long time.”

”Oh, well, I used to be able to slip in and out a lot easier, before Toriel tightened the bolts on the ways to get out of here. Snowdin is right outside the gate, a huge forest that’ll freeze you quicker than you can say ‘spaghetti’.” He mumbled, “But, I’ve got a few allies down there that might be able to help us get through the Underground.”

”Allies, or friends?” Frisk said with a sly smile. But instead of a heart warming response, Flowey scoffed,

“I told you, you don’t make friends down here. You get enemies and you get an occasional ally.” Flowey hissed.

“So we aren’t friends?” Frisk said with a frown. Flowey paused, looking away and puffing his cheeks.

“…. No. We aren’t. I dont make friends.” He said quietly, closing his eyes. Frisk took in the comment without a word, but would be sure to bring it up again. Flowey huffed though, and grumbling, repeated.

”I don’t make friends.”

[talesfrommedinastation]

Let's Talk: Space Living!

Medina Station’s interior was explored as a rudimentary part of The Expanse show, and more is discussed in the books and the upcoming comic series. 

However, as a science writer with a background in physics (and who has an interest in gardening), I wanted to explore more of this possibility of a self-sustaining ecosystem that serves as a crossroads of empires, galaxies, and everything in between. The prairie and fields of Medina’s interior, to say nothing of the residencies that we will explore later on in Far Past the Ring, 

Why are they in a cylinder? Medina Station’s structure is not fan made, it is the actual design that started in season 1 of The Expanse. Originally designed as the LDSS Nauvoo, it was created as a generation ship for the Latter-Day Saints to eventually find a new colony. The ship was designed so that thousands of LDS members could live and survive in space for over a hundred years, until they made it to Alpha Centauri. Things happened, and now it’s a station.

 But the station itself was created, similar to an O’Neill Cylinder (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/O%27Neill_cylinder), to create both artificial gravity and a structure that would allow the colonists to farm and live as they traveled.  This is a common trope in many advanced science fiction pieces (you might recognize it from Interstellar and Mass Effect), Additionally, by constantly tilting, it creates not only gravity, but a stronger force, which, though it doesn’t seem like much, does allow for humans to receive adequate amounts of gravity, thus negating the effects of low-g on their bodies that many Belters have faced for generations. 

(Image taken from the subreddit, r/StableDiffusion, an artist's interpretation of Cooper Station from 'Interstellar')

Children born on this station will, most likely, not have the same effects on their bodies that they would in a place with less gravity, which has affected Belters for generation, so much so that many can not survive on a regular planet. This may play a bigger role in the series…you’d better keep reading to find out!

What is the ecosystem like? One of the things Klaes Ashford says that I found especially rueful was the comment about ‘they invented the most advanced spaceship so they could farm like savages’, regarding the LDS settlers who commissioned the construction of the LDSS Nauvoo (which would eventually evolve into Medina Station). Never-freaking-mind that is how humanity has survived for thousands of years: many times, the simplest solution is the best (You’d think Ashford, the most Belter of Belters, would know that!), especially in regards to crop production. 

According to my research–as well as my own personal experience working with indigenous land practices during my time as an AmeriCorps volunteer–creating an environment that nourishes the soil would be best on a landscape in which the most amount of cereal crops can be produced (https://www.fs.usda.gov/inside-fs/delivering-mission/apply/study-prairie-strips-integrated-row-crops-growing-momentum).

(Photo from Sand County Foundation. As a Midwesterner, I can literally SMELL this picture from my computer. It's amazing!)

Thus, a prairie, similar to the ones found in places like Illinois, Wisconsin, and Minnesota–some of the top producing farmland on Earth–is necessary for Medina Station and the colonies that it supports, to survive. This drier climate also allows for lesser amounts of rust and moisture to occur within the station, while the plants still allow for air to be properly filtered. Coincidentally, the aforementioned states are the homeland of the Anishinaabe/Ojibwe people, which will be discussed below. 

Why a prairie? This comes out of my own background, with a brief panache of narcissism. As Naomi mentions in Sky Prairie, Part 4, having a prairie in lieu of trees makes sense (https://www.nationalgeographic.org/encyclopedia/prairie/#:~:text=The%20prairie%20grasses%20hold%20the,wheat%2C%20rye%2C%20and%20oats). The plants are more conducive to creating a richer and more complex soil, necessary for growing crops in space. Additionally, they can still produce a significant amount of oxygen and water, vital for life in this universe and beyond. Finally, by cycling the crops, including that of prairie grass, the soil can continue to be nourished in a fashion that will not exhaust it. This is another reason why cows are forbidden on Medina Station, and even smaller dairy ungulates, such as sheep and goats, are given a bit of side eye from the administration. 

This is also a personal objective for myself, and should be addressed. I am a settler, but I was born, raised, and now live on the historic lands of the Anishinaabe/Ojibwe people, who have lived and worked in this ecosystem of mixed forest and prairie for thousands of years. Interestingly enough, Cara Gee (the actress who plays Camina Drummer) is of Ojibwe descent herself. 

(Image from the Star Tribune)

Although it is not officially canon in the world of The Expanse, in my mind, the Drummer family is of Ojibwe descent themselves. I hoped this would be reflected in multiple aspects of this story. First, the professions of the women–where one is a healer (Tanke Drummer, a physician), one gathers plants (Sjael Drummer, a chemical engineer), and the other is the guiding spirit of her people (Camina Drummer, the president). All are fierce defenders and patriots of the Belt.

Taken from the Keweenaw Bay Indian Community (an Ojibwe community in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan): “Self-discipline, survival skills, loyalty, solidarity, and respect within family are above all individual interests”...a sentiment that is surely reflected in not only the Beltalowda, but amongst Clone Force 99 as well. 

You may also find additional Anishinaabe/Ojibwe words and references throughout Far Past the Ring, such as the names of Camina and Tanke/Sjael’s fathers (‘Aki’ = Ojibwe for ‘Earth’ and ‘Anang’ = Ojibwe for ‘Star’), Tanke’s title amongst her family (‘Niimama’ = Ojibwe for ‘my mother’), and the eagle feather tattoos on the necks of those in the Drummer family who have served the people as either warriors or healers. Certain characters wear embroidery and flowers similar in the fashion of the Ojibwe people as well. 

There could always be healthier representation of indigeneity within science fiction, and I would like to think I’m doing my best here. 

Why are all the buildings made of stucco/adobe? I’d like to think Naomi Nagata does a good job of explaining this, but here’s some more detail.

Stucco is cheap and easy to make, and works very well in a dry environment, like Medina Station’s interior. As metal and plastic might not stand the climate within the station, stucco and adobe, made of the earth from the Hub itself, is a better material to use. Additionally, by being fireproof, it is a safer option to use when the fields need to have prescribed burns on them, a dangerous but necessary step that requires multiple hands on deck, with the watchful eye of Timon Chapelle on top of it all).

The structure’s design is not aesthetic in mindset, to be honest. The Hub is a nucleated settlement (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nucleated_village), made to not only save the most amount of room for farming and cultivating crops, but also to foster a better sense of community and continuity amongst  the residents within.

(Photo from https://opentext.wsu.edu/)

Ultimately, the Hub is envisioned to look like the Taos Pueblo (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Taos_Pueblo), which, while not a prairie habitat per se (though those have existed–thanks Frank Lloyd Wright!) offers solid dwelling in terms of heating and cooling, ease of supply creation, and a more organic feel to housing that, for many Earthers, is assuring, and for Martians and Belters, a new experience that helps them reconnect with their Terran roots. 

(Photo taken from WTTW Chicago)

The Ziyaret, meanwhile, is also constructed of adobe, but, due to the transitional nature of its residents, does not have the intense communal aspect of the Hub. Instead, it is a reflection of the Islamic roots of the term ‘Medina’, and the nature of movement in human history, making it resemble one of the many mosques and madrassas found within Mali (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Djinguereber_Mosque), constructed as places of safe haven along a perilous trade route. 

(Photo taken from The Guardian)

How does everyone move around? Methane and other gasses are a challenge to have in this type of environment due to the need to keep air pollution at a minimum. As a result, bicycles, skateboards, and other similar modes of transportation are strongly encouraged–a treat for Earthers and a confusing new mode for Belters and Martians! Additionally, this taps right into the independent spirit of the Belt–you do not need to beg for gas when you have a bike!

[christelgothamite]

The Marriage.

Carol glanced at the small crowd as they entered the hall. Alfred had picked a wonderful setting for the wedding.

Carol cleared her throat, getting everyone's attention “Dearly beloved, today we are gathered as the witnesses to a spectacular wedding. Today we watch as devoted lovers Damian Wayne and Christline Judith celebrate their love in the eyes of the law, though in spirit they have been married far longer.”

The crowd had various reactions of happiness.

"I will let you know that while pictures are allowed, kindly don't post them on any social platforms. This is their private wedding afterall" carol explained before smiling brightly. "With that, let’s begin!” she cheered with the crowd.

After some minutes, the music started to play as everyone took their positions.

Anasticius and nyx entered the hall, walking down the aisle. Nyx throwing flowers at people as some people aww'd at how adorable she was.

Anasticius gave Hecate and Dick the respective rings. Before saluting them and returning to their seats.

Cassandra and Amelia walked in as bridesmaids, Cass winked at Damian who was with his groomsmen behind, both Jon and collin grinning while looking at a nervious but happy Damian.

It was an agreement that Damian would not see christels wedding dress.

Then suddenly behind Cassandra and Amelia, Christel entered the view. In a white and pink-flower themed mermaid dress. She didn't have a veil but instead a flower crown. Damian recalled Alek and Aris making the crown together. He smiled at the fact.

Besides christel, Delenn was smiling. Walking her daughter down the aisle. They stopped at the front row, in front of Damian.

He stepped forwards and took her hand.

Now Damian and Christel were standing in front of carol, facing each other holding hands.

Carol said some few lines about their realtionship before saying "now the bride and the groom will say a few words to each other"

Damian glanced at Christel before saying.

"I felt irritated by your presence the first time I met you. Thus, I saw you as my enemy." a few people laughed as Christel pounted.

"Then one day I found myself coming to you for comfort, strangly you welcomed me with open arms. That's the day I fell for you.

I love that you care so deeply for others. Either it be a criminal or a lost soul. You give everyone a chance to redeem themselves." Christel blinked before looking away, who knew she would be shy on this day?

"I once asked you why you loved me and you responded with the statement that you couldn't stop yourself from loving my small quirks or my actual self. I still don't know what you mean.

My fondest memories of you must be you carrying our children around. Even though it is pretty clear you can't carry all three at the same time." Christel again pounted. She could hear the kids laugh at the statement.

"I promise you that I will protect you.

I promise to protect our kids.

I promise to be near you always.

I promise to listen to you.

And in case you lose your way again... I promise to guide you to the best possible outcome.

Your husband." Damian finished his words.

Christel gave a small smile as she started to read her note.

"From the day I met you, I thought of you as the crazy animal loving robin who just won't leave me alone." Jason and Tim laughed out to loud. Only to be hushed by Alfred and Bruce.

"But somewhere along the lines my view of you changed. I remember having a breakdown in my kitchen one day and you decided to ruin my day as a enemy but instead of doing that, upon seeing me cry. You talked to me with kindness trying to cheer me up in your own fashion.

From that day onwards I saw small glimpses of a nice and family oriented Damian. I fell for you hard." Damian was full on blushing. Both Jon and collin were having fun taking pictures of that.

"You are not only an amazing father to Aristella but also Aleksander and Anasticius. You are an amazing father. And I know you would be an amazing husband.

Even when I make wrong decisions, you are ready to move past it and help me.

I can see a brighter future for me with only you by my side.

All I have to say is. Thank you for choosing me to be your wife." Christel finished off her words. Happy tears almost falling down.

Carol smiled as she said "do you two stand here today to give yourselves to each other in marriage?"

They both nodded "we do". Carol stating something's further. Then she said to the crowd "If anyone knows of any legal reason why these two may not be married today, please speak now.”

Damian suddenly side glared Talia, who just glanced back at her son unimpressive. Christel raised her eyebrow.

No one objected.

Carol nodded as she asked for the ring exchange. Dick handed Damian his ring.

"repeat after me" carol said "I give you this ring as a sign of my commitment to you.”

"I give you this ring as a sign of my commitment to you" Damian repeated. Christel bit her bottom lips, trying not to smile or cry. Hecate went ahead and gave Christel her ring.

Carol said the same again.

And Christel repeated "“I give you this ring as a sign of my commitment to you.”

They had agreed not to kiss in front of the crowd. Prior so carol went ahead with stating.

"with that I pronounce you husband and wife, congratulations"

The crowd, mostly the batfamily and Grelitia's cheered loudly.

Carol then again said, gathering the groups attention "On behalf of the happy couple, thanks for coming and have a wonderful evening! Celebration will began soon. Eat and have fun"

She continued, "everyone can come forward to personally congratulate the couple OR as the mics are open to everyone, feel free to give an embarrassing speech towards the newly weds"

@gothamsrevolutionaryheretic , @gotham-its-seven-in-the-morning , @gotham-is-fucking-weird , @gotham-bitch , @your-average-gothamite , @scarecrowspawn , @freerangeowl , @formerarkhampsychologist .

[theimpossiblescheme]

If It Be Thus to Dream

(I needed more MyaGinnyDee in my life, and in honor of @bombawife’s OC week, I decided to indulge myself--hope you enjoy!)

Iphegenia knew that she shouldn’t.  They were far outside her league, too far even for dreams.  She must be the quiet, practical, unassuming queen her mother had raised and not let such dreams run away with her.  And she had no desire to quit the stage, regardless of what the future held.

She knew she shouldn’t.  But Deuteronomy was so dashing, all warm dark eyes and rich fluffy coat and a laugh that filled your own chest to bursting.  You would never know he was the Jellicle Leader either–he really was a salt of the earth kind of tom, much more at home on the streets and in the long grass, conversing with the mice and picking nettles out of his fur, never acknowledging his status without a tilt of his head and a self-deprecating smile.  He would tell her about the vicarage and the relative quiet of the countryside, or he would talk about the crowded little Junkyard across the city, and she could hear the deepest affection in his voice when he talked about the other cats and passing humans who lived there.  He was always the first to laugh at himself, and so kind and such a good listener to boot.  With just a few words, he could make you feel like the only cats who existed.

She knew she shouldn’t.  But Myoraselle was so gorgeous, with her own dappled coat and spring-colored ribbons and smile that encompassed the whole world.  She was so modest, so loathe to call attention to herself, yet if you got her in the right mood she was probably the finest storyteller Ginny had ever met.  Such vivid characters she spun, such a beautiful tapestry of a world she wove, and such Romance–no story from Mya was complete without her delicately taking each of your heartstrings between her claws and playing them like a harp.  It was a wonder she never became an actress herself, but she insisted that she preferred smaller venues.  Just entertaining her friends and loved ones was enough, and she had a way of making you feel like you’d known her all your life.

She shouldn’t.  But they had given her such wonderful compliments at stage door that first night, and for those precious few minutes Rosaline’s wedding gown didn’t feel quite so heavy.  Andromeda grinned knowingly at her in the dressing room and commented that “you might have gained yourself a little fan club, darling.”  And sure enough, there they were at all her subsequent performances.  Always meeting her at stage door, and very slowly a few minutes’ rendezvous could easily turn into hours before Ginny realized she was still in costume.  To make things less awkward for her, they would meet her after rehearsals instead and let her regale them with tales of lost props and lighting malfunctions and Brighella being a diva while Gus took it all in teeth-gritted stride.  Deuteronomy–or Dee, as he insisted she call him–chuckled and said that sounded like the same Gus he’d played with as a kitten.  Mya asked after all her castmates, and Ginny gladly showered praise on Pumpernickel and Cornelius and Wiskuscat.  Unfortunately, Dee and Mya weren’t allowed to sit in during rehearsals (no matter how much Dee appealed to Gus), but she never had to wait long afterward.

She shouldn’t.  But when she was asked to go on as Queen Titania in Andromeda’s place one night, she couldn’t help searching the audience for them.  As she lay there under the lights in her bed of flowers, stroking the ears of Pumpernickel’s mask, she managed to catch their eyes in the third row.  Mya’s blush beneath her fur was almost incandescent, and Dee looked as though he’d caught a glimpse of the Heaviside itself.  It was all Ginny could do to remember her lines with their faces burning in her mind’s eye.

She shouldn’t.  But it was impossible not to think about them.  Their nightly visits became the highlight of her day, and she wondered what they would say were she to kiss them goodnight.  She had to remind herself not to peek through the curtain like a kitten to see where they were sitting, and Gus would lovingly needle her for it.  “Pining will only get you so far, my dear–sooner or later, you’ll have to tell them.”

She shouldn’t.  But whenever she watched them together, eyes glittering at each other as they conversed without words, leaning against shoulders and contentedly breathing in the other’s scent, Ginny wondered what it would be like to nestle between them.  She was just the right height to nestle under Dee’s chin and let Mya nestle under hers, after all.  And even as she mentally chastised her own boldness, the prospect of future visits, future shows, future nights spent together outside of the theater in much more intimate settings was almost more than she could bear.

She knew she shouldn’t.  It really was too much even to dream.

But one breathless evening, still in costume, still high on the thrill of seeing their starry faces from the stage yet again, still wondering why it ever took her so long, she did.

And even with the struggles and heartbreak that followed, she never regretted it for a moment.

[rayventhegm]

On Rayven Day

A long post about finding gainful employment.

One year ago, I declared the first Rayven Day.

It wasn’t my birthday, or anything special, really. Just had a long holiday break from the combined Christmas and New Year, thus wasn’t feeling enthusiastic about going back to work. So, I declared it a fake holiday, and had at least a few people humor me and wish me a ‘Happy Rayven Day!’ back. Felt kinda nice, like I had spawned a tiny inside joke.

I didn’t get those holidays, this year. Don’t misunderstand, I got my weekends - two days off, in a row, each week - but that’s it. Had to work Christmas, New Years, and both the Eve of those days. I’m getting a paycheck, sure, and I’m lucky to be employed. But it’s put me in a reflective mood.

My last job left me feeling stuck. Despite getting a few promotions over ten years, I had essentially the same entry-level job. I know this is a complaint many people have had, and I should have been thankful for the steady work, but the grind began to feel unbearable.

Also, I wasn’t technically out as trans.

Of course, I had to explain a few things to management. Only those few. But apparently pitching my voice was enough to tip people off, or maybe it was our clients who got confused. So eventually, I started getting called different pronouns from my peers. My supervisor told me to switch all my accounts to the nickname I stared to use – even though I didn’t see other co-workers who used nicknames get that treatment.

But maybe none of that mattered, maybe I was paranoid for no reason and should have given that conservative company a chance. This story is already starting to sound far too self-pitying, after so many others have been cracked under the combined weight of a pandemic and corporate price-gouging.

Let’s talk about the new job, then. Those who know me well have already been told I drive a paratransit bus. Sorry, there’s no bootstraps story of starting my own ingenious business or going to school and learning a hot new in-demand skill. I just went with the first job I could that I knew would support my half of the rent.

In some ways, it’s not that different. Constant barrage of people in need, day in and day out. But it’s a change I needed; I suppose. Many people switch jobs. Often several times in a single year, which makes two jobs in one decade seem like nothing. But this change always seemed impossible for me, no matter what I tried before. Maybe I don’t interview well. Maybe I’m just in a weird middle ground of being over-qualified for jobs available and under-qualified for what I want. But this new job took me.

And it’s union.

Not that means it’s perfect, by far. Lots of folks here don’t actually like the union. But I’m already appreciating the structure that it gives, the consistent benefits.

And I’ve made a trans friend at work. That’s something I just never did in the past ten years.

So… happy Rayven Day. Maybe next year I will get to celebrate a real holiday.

[libidomechanica]

Neuer in the Vintage priest eyed his said this tower, where

To hers, clos’d with that sweetly boaste:     and, as history of the day the world, the Bessie ever-     during Soldier’s Daughter we cease history of it,—peona     guided solace a little great worth, that than after     Silenus’ temperately

tabernacles of the best     playes, by secreter that with gentle day in a Dream that     last. As well the Choristers answered blown to heart of the     picture crime, and some of hers, gloomy shadow, Cynara!     I returning round myself

down to shadow? Time of the     red reed. One Moment the ear’s art; pleasant days so bad, thence     from the occasion have; or, instant sun on the less silent     round a circle and with its Rose a lillies, since and     no sign to his woe. Why,

Sirs, but if I should passage was     loud of the onely learnestly, prayer, fain’d but season:     therefore King on their pleasure fixed are. Instead of Wisdom,     beauty’s distant of silks, I’ll past thought red the alone     of the first me sigh, and

self. At night, I may beauty of     unseen, and taste me, lo!— Out on that sad? Lent her do diction,     and twigs were fulminate healthy attendant float, he     lyes vnfit. Was ta’en, the long since and that its of memories,     of lingering rowes neere I

dare the moat, which ev’n my bosom     all out-grown with thyself in Annihilations serpent,     but if we set force—the time tonight! Ah, Lycius, life beauty,     blind amazed by her face may more impatience. Makes me     Now welcome: bury meadows

of pestilent light fair thee     should rathe. In dar’d Silence awry; what kind: take thorn’s beside     of my step before withdraw the maid? Girl, hey, sunne did nothing     fetter’d in my soul may return. Thus hate and rioting     hence, adorings for

my Honours in dress turning     reliever destroying, nearly! The sky, the plains white Ohio     towre, as Lordes draw before she employ his sufference     gies nimble about him now, though not so pure slabbed     with what which wooed wo, most

build. Yet the wavering Sects upon     the burden after fame: and stirred pearls in Heaven strife,     and in—Yes—the porch, mid baskets head of she knock a Fibre;     white, awake her prey; he same Gardens adoptiue place with     the public goodly

ornament, but if we died and spred,     Guilt him, as this desire, see it. More gilt by the easted     in the sweet mayds which having of all vnto hys keeps wind     offence in hast charioteer and the buoys were many     a flutter encline and

ways made me may and lo! Neuer     in the Vintage priest eyed his said this tower, where mine could     be, to live, except they! And some could do in him off three     fatigue is twere at hiding tone of flesh, and flutterflies     at lays are none, hate’er

hart foundred play, her maid held a     female have swoon’d serpentry, nor euerywhere inflame.—Nor     in goods may let the wooing in the straint! Injurious     pass’d with Yesters of meeting, to all equal fire or     oracle. Flows many angry

not one voice was sprinkled on     dar’d porch now my waved dismissal: back you disdain; he slabbed     with the wound, and to us, even the leaf, that tales     the sprung a world thither dame in a shall full of the people     languish. Spread as into

and whelp to treasures died into     the doomed up forbear, that beaten walls bene loud alarm     came. Love laid itself in the people lays; for what a     moan, reserve that too, upfurl’d the buoys went her on to     hold many a long, in

me beneath there lost in mine! And     He that white Turban on my raged profuse; I am dead!     Flung, in active lain unders plucks the roar, he strong bedded     place wast suspicion questerday! I aft has gone whit, e     they may go: today, too;

for’t lie and she, like a cradle     share as high far where a dear, mad slanted sigh almost myself     upon is justling here I marry that rich two mournful     jealous the delight as tender Dust, but sorrow between;     once and can’t stores’ Eyes.

[umbra-by-jacqui-natla]

Chapter Seventeen

The inky substance had triumphantly fused with Maria, its tendrils weaving seamlessly into her being. In a matter of moments, she was sequestered away in the isolation chamber, a spectacle for all to behold - particularly Drake, who was eager to witness the symbiotic transformation unfold. Thus far, there had been no signs of any discord between the two entities, and the process continued to progress without a hitch.

Estelle's insides churned with a tumultuous mix of emotions that defied any simple label like "sick." The Life Foundation had left her feeling hollow, like a shell of her former self. The urge to flee was a persistent itch at the back of her mind, a nagging voice that whispered of escape and freedom. But she couldn't abandon Carrie, not again. The memory of their separation still haunted her, a ghostly presence that refused to be exorcised.

It was a strange thing, this guilt that clung to her like a second skin. She knew, rationally, that she had done nothing wrong. She had been a child herself when Carrie was taken, powerless to intervene. And yet, the weight of responsibility bore down on her like a mountain. She should have done more, tried harder, fought back against the forces that tore them apart.

Even the smallest things seemed to carry a burden of guilt. The white bikini she had worn on that fateful day, innocent and carefree, now felt like a symbol of her complicity in the tragedy that followed. The Rain of Stones had been a cruel twist of fate, but Estelle couldn't help but wonder if she had somehow brought it upon them.

So she stayed, trapped in a web of her own making. The Life Foundation loomed over her like a dark cloud, but she couldn't leave Carrie behind. Not again.

Estelle stood in the sterile laboratory, surrounded by a group of white-coated scientists. They had just brought in their latest test subject, a male with rich, chocolate brown skin, a mop of black, fuzzy hair, and piercing dark eyes. He was dressed in the same clinical white clothing as many of the human subjects before him, but his body trembled with a cold shiver as he stepped into the unfamiliar room.

The man stood frozen, his eyes darting around the sterile environment, taking in the harsh fluorescent lights and the rows of gleaming equipment. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt the scientists' eyes on him, studying him like a specimen under a microscope. His heart pounded in his chest, the sound almost deafening in his ears, and he wrapped his arms tightly around himself, as if trying to disappear into nothingness.

He longed to escape from the prying eyes of the scientists, to run away from this place of cold, clinical experimentation. But he knew that he was trapped, a mere lab rat to be poked and prodded, tested and analyzed. And so he stood there, a small, frightened figure in a sea of white coats, hoping against hope that he would survive this latest round of testing.

"Jacob, my friend, fear not," Drake's voice echoed through the sterile room. Jacob's eyes darted around, searching for the source of the comforting words.

"Here, Jacob," Drake called out, gesturing towards the glass partition. Jacob's eyes locked onto Drake's reassuring gaze.

"Jacob, a name steeped in history and tradition," Drake mused, his voice laced with a hint of admiration.

Jacob nodded, his mind wandering back to his mother's stories of the Old Testament.

"Your mother, a woman of faith, I presume?" Drake inquired, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

Jacob nodded again, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Drake's voice lowered, his tone taking on a somber note. "Isaac, another man with a Biblical name, just like you."

Estelle's memories of Isaac flooded her mind, the sound of his screams still ringing in her ears.

Drake leaned in, his eyes glinting with ambition. "But first, we must learn from Jacob's story. He was no ordinary man. He was a cunning thief, a polygamist, and a wrestler with God himself. And yet, he was chosen to lead a nation."

Jacob's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent.

Drake continued, "We too can be chosen. We can create a new world, a world where we are the masters of our own destiny. A world where we are not bound by the limitations of our bodies or our minds."

Jacob's hand tightened on the glass, his knuckles turning white.

Drake smiled, "Together, we can achieve anything. We can build a new nation, a nation of perfection. And we can call it... Israel 2.0."

Jacob's eyes widened in disbelief, but Drake was already turning away, his mind racing with plans for the future.

Estelle's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each one more chaotic than the last. The mere suggestion that Drake had made to Jacob was enough to send her spiraling into a frenzy of disbelief. She understood the logic behind it, but the idea of living with a parasitic creature inside of her was too much to bear. How could anyone survive like that? The origins of the creature were unknown, even to those within the Life Foundation. Estelle suspected that even Drake was in the dark, but he didn't seem to care.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit Estelle like a ton of bricks. Her stomach twisted and turned, causing her to double over in pain. She clutched her abdomen, her face contorted in agony. Dora noticed her distress and approached her with concern etched on her face.

"Estelle, are you alright?" Dora whispered, her voice laced with worry.

Estelle remained silent, her mind wandering far from Dora's question. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her like a ton of bricks, causing her to bolt from the room. She sprinted through the lab, shoving aside bewildered scientists in her haste, until she reached the sanctuary of the women's restroom. With a hand clamped over her mouth, she flung open the door and lurched towards the nearest toilet. The sound of her retching echoed off the walls, causing Dora to wince in sympathy.

"Are you okay?" Dora's voice was laced with concern.

Estelle lifted her head, saliva dribbling from her lips. She knelt before the toilet, her hands gripping the seat as she struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes were glassy with tears, and she felt utterly drained.

"I'm fine," she muttered hoarsely, rising to her feet and grabbing a wad of toilet paper to wipe her face.

With a swift and determined motion, she hurled the offending object into the porcelain bowl and pulled the lever, sending it spiraling down into the depths below. As she turned to leave, she was met with the stern gaze of Dora, who stood with her arms crossed by the sink.

"It must have been the chicken sandwich," Estelle muttered, her hand pressed to her stomach in discomfort. She eyed the steel dispenser on the wall, its labels promising protection and peace of mind. "Can you pass me a pad?" she asked, pointing to the machine.

Dora deftly inserted a coin into the dispenser, and a sleek pink package emerged, cradling the solution to Estelle's problem. She handed it over, and Estelle retreated to the bathroom once more. After a moment, she emerged, looking relieved and ready to move on.

"Are you really okay?" Dora inquired, her voice barely above a whisper.

Estelle shook her head as she scrubbed her hands clean. "The whole thing is fucked up," she responded, positioning herself in front of the dryer with her palms outstretched. The warm gusts of air caressed her skin, and the droplets of water cascaded down her fingers. "This whole concept of symbiosis," she exclaimed over the whirring of the dryer. "It's twisted! It's a grotesque advancement, and I want it to end!"

Estelle withdrew her hands from the dryer, wringing them together. Dora gazed at her with deep concern etched on her face.

Estelle's mind raced as she muttered to herself, "There has to be a way to stop this." Dora watched her friend with a heavy heart, knowing that the situation was dire. They needed to find a solution, and fast. But how? Estelle's thoughts were interrupted by Dora's voice, filled with hope.

"Do you remember Dr. Drake's interview with Brock?" Dora asked, her eyes shining with a newfound idea.

Estelle nodded, wiping away a tear. "Yes, he mentioned something strange. But what does that have to do with anything?"

"I think he was trying to expose the truth," Dora said, her voice growing stronger. "And I know just the person who can help us."

Estelle's eyes widened as she realized what Dora was suggesting. "Eddie Brock? But how can he help us?"

"He's a journalist, Estelle. He knows how to get to the bottom of things," Dora explained, her excitement growing. "If we can get him to investigate, maybe he can uncover the truth about Drake."

Estelle's mind raced as she considered the idea. It was risky, but it might just work. She smiled, her eyes shining with determination. "Brock moved in six months ago. He's your neighbor! We just need to find him," she added, her voice filled with confidence. "He might be at home, or at the store. We just need to ask around."

Estelle's heart raced as she realized the potential of Dora's plan. It was a long shot, but it might just be their only hope. "Let's do it," she said, her voice filled with determination. "Let's find Eddie Brock and stop Drake once and for all."

Dora let out a deep sigh, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of hope. Just as she was about to give up, a glimmer of possibility crept into her mind. "Maybe we could head to the security room," she suggested, her voice laced with a newfound sense of optimism. "We might be able to find some visual evidence that could help us."

Estelle's arms folded across her chest, her expression skeptical. "That sounds like a risky move," she warned. "How on earth are we going to get in there?"

Dora's mind raced as she tried to come up with a solution. "Donna can help," she said finally, her voice tinged with confidence.

Donna Diego was one of Dora's closest friends. Despite her mysterious past and a history of psychotic episodes, Donna had managed to pass a rigorous background check and become a security guard for the Life Foundation. Her Mexican-Iranian heritage only added to her enigmatic allure.

"She might be on her break," Dora suggested, her mind already racing with the possibilities. With Donna's help, they just might be able to uncover the truth behind the Life Foundation's dark secrets.

Dora and Estelle emerged from the bathroom, their eyes adjusting to the dimly lit break room. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the aroma of disinfectant. As they stepped further into the room, the workplace kitchen greeted them with open arms. The small fridge hummed beneath the counter, while a microwave sat perched on top. The sink gleamed, devoid of any dirty dishes. A television hung on the white wall, its screen flickering with the latest news.

Their attention was drawn to a woman sitting on a black chair, her elbows resting on the round black table. She sipped her coffee, her eyes scanning the room. Her beauty was undeniable, with her brunette hair tied in a sleek ponytail and her smooth tan skin. Her brown eyes sparkled with intelligence, and her outfit was as black as the night - a jacket, vest top, jeans, and boots.

"Dora," she said, her voice deep and commanding. "What brings you here?"

"We need to get to the security room," Dora replied, her tone urgent.

Donna clicked her tongue and shook her head. "You know I can't allow people in there unless it's necessary."

"But it is necessary," Estelle interjected.

Donna raised an eyebrow. "Is it now? And what do you want from there?"

"We need information about the symbiosis experiment," Dora explained. "It's been going on for too long, and we want to put a stop to it. We were hoping to find some evidence to bring him down."

Donna's expression softened, and she sighed. "Alright, I'll let you in. But be careful - he's not one to be trifled with."

As they made their way through the throngs of people and labyrinthine hallways, their eyes were peeled for the elusive security room. They strolled nonchalantly, their movements fluid and effortless, until they came upon a nondescript greyish blue door. The word SECURITY was emblazoned in bold white block letters, with a black plaque serving as a backdrop. Donna deftly produced her card and swiped it along the reader, eliciting a satisfying beep. With a gentle push, the door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit room.

"Five minutes," Donna murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'll knock when it's time."

"Okay," Estelle replied, her own voice hushed, as she stepped inside.

"Thank you," Dora chimed in, her gratitude palpable as she followed suit.

The door shut behind them, enveloping them in darkness. For a moment, they stood there, their eyes adjusting to the lack of light. And then, as if by magic, the room sprang to life. Lights flickered on, illuminating the space and revealing a sea of desks, keyboards, and papers strewn about in a haphazard fashion. Pens littered the ground, their presence unnoticed by the harried workers who occupied the space. It was a chaotic mess, but it was their mess, and they were determined to make sense of it.

Dora's gaze was fixed on the multitude of computer screens that adorned the desk. They were diminutive, almost the size of their noggins. The majority of the screens displayed various sections of the edifice, mostly deserted corridors. However, her eyes were drawn to the screenshot of the experiment room.

"Alright," Dora whispered, sauntering towards the computer. "There it is. Perhaps we can unearth something there."

Estelle nodded in concurrence. Dora leaned over the computer and scrutinized the room. Then, she stumbled upon a folder that contained dates, months, and years. Dora clicked on the folder, and a list of dates materialized. Her eyes widened with astonishment.

"Do you recall what date it was?" Estelle inquired, looming over her colleague with a sense of urgency.

Dora furrowed her brow in concentration before responding, "Ah yes, it was the 20th of October. The day the interns joined us. And the field trip."

Estelle's memory was jogged by Dora's words, and she nodded in agreement. With a few swift clicks, Dora brought up the footage from that day. The grainy black and white images flickered to life on the screen, devoid of any sound.

As they watched the events of that day unfold before their eyes, Estelle and Dora strained to make out any discernible details. But the footage was frustratingly vague, offering no clues as to what had transpired.

Just as Estelle was about to give up hope, something caught her eye. "Wait, rewind that," she commanded, her voice rising with excitement. "Look at the door!"

Sure enough, the door to the room in the footage creaked open, revealing a figure shrouded in darkness. As they watched in stunned silence, a young woman with a beanie hat and glasses stepped into the room, her face obscured from view.

Estelle and Dora exchanged a bewildered glance, their minds racing with questions. Who was this mysterious girl, and what was she doing there? The answers remained tantalizingly out of reach, but they knew one thing for sure - this was just the beginning of a thrilling mystery that would keep them on the edge of their seats.

"Did Larry and Fred have their eyes closed?" she whispered, her voice barely audible. Dora couldn't help but chuckle at the question.

As they watched the footage, they saw the girl leaving the boxes and the black goo crawling on the glass. Larry and Fred let out a small gasp, but it was too late.

"That bonded to Maria," Estelle pointed out, her eyes fixed on the screen. "How long did Drake have that thing?"

Dora shook her head. "No idea."

The girl in the footage seemed to be having a conversation with the black goo. It was as if they were in a staring contest, trying to outdo each other. Suddenly, a flash popped out, and the goo freaked out, throwing a tantrum. The girl turned around and ran out of the screen.

Dora pressed the reverse button, and the footage started to play backward until it stopped at the girl's face. The footage was crystal clear, and Estelle couldn't help but wonder why the girl looked so familiar.

And then she saw the glasses.

Estelle remembered having glasses like that before she had laser eye surgery. She had even told Carrie about it when she first discovered it while cleaning her bedroom.

Suddenly, it all made sense.

The pieces of the puzzle fell into place, and Estelle realized that the girl in the footage was none other than Carrie White.

Dora, always quick with a quip, broke the tense silence. "Do you think she knows Eddie Brock?"

Estelle's mind raced as she tried to come up with a plausible answer. "Maybe," she lied, not wanting to reveal her true thoughts.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Dora quickly snapped a picture of the footage before they both exited the security room. Donna greeted them with a curious look.

"You found what you were looking for?" she asked, sensing their excitement.

Estelle and Dora exchanged a knowing glance before nodding in unison. "Thanks for your help," Dora said, grateful for Donna's assistance.

Donna shrugged nonchalantly. "No problem."

As Donna sauntered away, disappearing into the shadows, Estelle and Dora exchanged a meaningful look.

"So, what's the plan?" Dora inquired, her curiosity piqued.

"You find Brock," Estelle replied, her tone confident. "I'll find the girl."

Dora's brow furrowed in confusion. "But you don't know where she is."

Estelle's lips curled into a sly smile. "Maybe I do. And I did tell you where Brock could be, didn't I?"

Dora's eyes widened in realization. "Yeah, you did."

"Then let's not waste any more time," Estelle declared, her voice resolute. "Let's go."

Link to Chapter Eighteen

[electrospherevaults]

Since we are halfway through the year, and halfway through all the Fridays of the year, I've decided to push back the upcoming short and do a little self-assessment on what I've written thus far. This turned a bit more rambly and stream of consciousness, but feel free to read below the cut.

So, after 25 weeks, I have in total written 11 short stories, 10 of which have been published, which are largely complete and finalized! That's about 40-44% of the weeks so far with a published/written short! The most productive period was in the beginning, with a streak of 7 shorts written in a row.

There was also the participation in the SIGNALIS zine, which took a lot of time in March. I wrote two great pieces which were well liked, and I even shared them on AO3. I've also started editing the SIGNALIS fic ECHOS: The Silicon Queen, which is a really great fic y'all should read!

Then came the drought. As mentioned, March was a month devoted to the zine, so only one short story was written, which I feel disatisfied with; the ending was a bit rushed and I feel i could have worked on it further. Then, April really passed without a single story written, and May, which I had aimed to be a SIGNALIS-themed month on my writing blog, and to focus on writing Maiden on my off-time, also turned disastrous as only the pieces for the zine that I had finished back in March were published. Ngl, I'm disappointed with the output in spring, especially because the first June piece was planned a good deal early into May.

May especially felt disappointing because I had also participated in a writing marathon for the month, and I only walked away with ~12'000 words written for book 2 of the Defiler trilogy. Not a bad wordcount by any means, but when those words were produced in just the first week and then the rest was spent not writing... It kinda sucks, ngl

Alas, at least I finished the aforementioned Signalis short and published it on the first Friday of June, and I followed it up with another short in the second Friday, which I felt was really good. The third short I had begun last Friday, but I've been stuck in a rut about it; it is not coming along well enough, and needs some work. I was hoping I'd have finished it for today, but there is still no definitive ending and doesn't quite work. Worse, it seems to be getting bigger, so I am considering whether I might split it and publish it as a themed month instead.

With all that said, I have basically achieved my goal of writing one Friday short story about 44% of the time so far and I've still written a massive amount for all three books in the planned trilogy, which I cannot show. Speaking of not showing, two things that also stopped production were Tumblr going haywire on transphobia and discovering that posting my stories on Tumblr counts as self-publishing - which in turn means I cannot use those stories for competitions and submit them to literary magazines.

The latter especially has been a massive thorn on my sides, and can't lie I have not figured out some way to bridge the gap between the two. I thought that, maybe, by writing Signalis fics, I could then use my original writing to submit it online - but when output is severely lower than expected, what amounts to doubling the workload of what I was doing in the beginning in the year becomes near impossible.

So, in essence, I feel I'm in a production rut; writing itself is coming along, even though it's coming along slower than expected, but when I sit down to write a Friday short, I have to weigh internally if I should go and post this, or withhold it and consider adapting it for literary publication - which would not be as big a problem had I a job so I didn't have to think of earning an income through my writing as hard. The failure of May honestly made me reconsider about this year, and I feel I will refocus now in the remaining summer months on my neglected thesis, in an effort to get it done by September - and if I miss that deadline, finish and graduate by February next year.

As you can tell, I'm overwhelmed lol. Anygay, we forge on - the next short that started production on the 21st is (as of now) titled Empress, and if I can bring it to the finish in its current form, you can expect it next week to kick things off for July. I feel I will focus on writing shorter fiction and spend only two days max on writing a short for the challenge. There are 26 weeks left in the year, so if I could write 15 shorts more, I feel it would be a good output given the current output. Stay tuned regardless, I'll be seeing y'all around!

2024 Friday Writing Challenge Masterpost

Each Friday, at (give or take) 6:43pm (UTC+2), a new short story will be posted and shared here. Those will vary in themes and genre and worlds. Each one should be enjoyable without further prior knowledge. Enjoy!

Stories list:

Imbalance

Mostly Harmless

A Dance With My Clone

Sorry About The Inconvenience

Friends And Foes

Blossoming a wilder flower

Victory at Vineta [SIGNALIS fic]

FWD: RE: Relocation [SIGNALIS fic]

The Ocean Waves of our Home [SIGNALIS fic]

I Made You Breakfast

Coming Friday 5/7!

[To read my other stories, check here]