#(but then it's printed in all the poetry anthologies so what do i know)

[posthumus]

sick and twisted that stephen SONDHEIM did an arrangement for "fear no more" but i don't even like it. everything in the world is so fucked up

[fayrobertsuk]

Poetry for ALL

Some personal anecdotes and a plea follow...

As quite a few of you know, I’ve been engaged in disability awareness and rights campaigning and other work since sometime in the 90s, so when I was given an opportunity to support and host an event dedicated to making performance poetry as accessible as possible in 2018, I jumped on it.

(image description in alt text)

Poetry for All is the brainchild (and heartchild, and soulchild) of Rose Drew, who I first met through one of Richard Tyrone Jones’s Utter events in London. She’s an extraordinary writer and performer, and a powerhouse of an events host and organiser. Within about 30 seconds of watching her on stage, I knew I wanted to be like her when I grew up as an artist. When she got in touch three years later to ask if I’d like to help out with what turned out to be the inaugural event, I threw myself into providing as much support as possible with enthusiastic abandon, and we pulled together a line-up which included the extraordinary performers Raymond Antrobus and DL Williams (“DeafFirefly”), both of whom I’d performed with before and was keen to see again. 

Now, there’s a whole section on our new website about the history of the events where you can read the facts, but I want to say here that, personally, that first event in March 2018 (coincidentally on my birthday!) was an absolute eye-opener – seeing how poetry events could expand and develop the ideal of accessibility in ways I hadn’t considered. It was also extremely inspirational as I realised that, well, I was allowed to write about my disabilities. Seeing and hearing artist after artist sharing so much and so eloquently unlocked something in me that I didn’t even know I’d been repressing:

I’m allowed to be an openly disabled poet. I’m allowed to express my neurodivergence. I can tell my truth. 😱🤯

Bit of a culture-shock, but I owe so much to the poets and to Rose (and to Dave Wycherley, BSL interpreter extraordinaire – that’s a hard and physically/ mentally taxing job as it is, but to do that with poetry? on the fly?! breathtaking...) for helping me get to that starting point, knocking down the walls of my own internalised ableism.

So, apart from a paean to self-expression and why representation and finding tribe matters, and a screed of gratitude for new friends made and old friendships strengthened through the course of these events, why am I writing this? What’s with the hashtag? “Plea...?”

Well, so far, since you ask, all of our events have had local funding in York, where they’ve taken place exclusively so far. Rose applied for Arts Council England funding for this and next year for a tour comprising several venues and a host more disabled artists and BSL interpreters from various parts of the UK (all getting paid properly!), but we found out last week that we’d not got the money. Any of it. So our forthcoming event on 24th November in the gorgeous National Centre for Early Music is in jeopardy and, since the thought of Rose (herself a disabled artist on low wages) having to pay for this out of her own pocket was not to be supported, I threw myself at a plan of creating a (somewhat last-minute) Crowdfunder, so that we can at least pay for the venue, the artists’ and interpreters’ fees, the travel and accommodation expenses of those of us coming from out of town, and the costs of producing merchandise to sell. We’ll be producing an anthology in print and ebook form, as a joint publication between indie publishers Stairwell Books and Allographic Press. And, if we exceed our funding goal, there’ll be video and audio available of the event to boot!

We’ve created a frankly very exciting range of pledge rewards for people wanting to support us (all the way from £1 and £2 options, since money is tight, especially for disabled folk, right now, to more chunky ones like private mentoring, workshops, and a publishing package), and we’ve got three weeks(!) to raise our £1,500 to cover the shortfall from ticket and merch sales. Eeep! So, if you’re able to and would like to help us, we’d be ever so grateful. The campaign is here:

https://www.crowdfunder.co.uk/p/poetry-for-all-2023-fundraiser

And if you have absolutely no funds to share with us at all, we’d be incredibly grateful if you shared on social media, with friends, on blogs, all of that!

Thanks for reading all this, and have a great day!

[ididit-allofit-foryou]

@ididit-allofit-foryou masterlist

Hey! Money is becoming a Problem for me right now, so I’m reposting all my links of ways you can help support me (if you want/can)! Even just reblogging this helps! I’m a chronically ill, disabled, trans, and queer person, and I would like to be able to pay rent! Please signal boost if you can! 

MY LINKS

Make a Commission or find my published writing on my website

Buy my short story anthology, my illustrated poetry book, and my most recent poetry book

Buy destiel pins, supernatural prints, and get tarot readings on my Etsy

Follow me on Instagram

Become a patron on Patreon and get extra content and commissions

Buy merch with my art on Redbubble

Watch speed paints, real time drawings, and sketchbook tours on my Youtube

Read my fics on Ao3

Tip me on venmo

PUBLICATIONS

Studying Sonder: A collection of short stories

This book contains several short stories that cover queer themes, found family, mental health issues, and healing.

Out Pour The Violets

This poetry book includes poems from over the span of six years which cover my trajectory through depression, a messy breakup, healing, and eventually opening back up to love. Each poem has a corresponding illustration, drawn by me as well.

Know Me!!!

This book is filled with poetry that encapsulates my experiences with chronic pain, chronic fatigue, and POTS; my deteriorating relationship with my parents due to their homophobia and bigotry; and my journey to find love (and finally getting that!!). Throughout it all are themes of a deep desire to be known completely and chosen, not despite, but because of everything that I am. 

COMMISSION INFO (prices in USD)

Sketch–$10

Tattoo design– $50-$100 (price will vary depending on amount of detail, etc)

Lineart with (mostly) flat color– $30 base +$ 10/extra character

Profile picture/icon (limit to one character/drawing)– $30 

Character design– $40 +$20/extra character

Cartoon style– $30 + $20/extra character

Painting style (bust)– $50 base + $20/extra character

Painting style (full body)– $80 base + $20/extra character

WHAT I NEED FROM YOU

A detailed description of what you want from the commission

As many reference photos as you can find (the more photos, the better the commission will be)

Your choice of a simple background

WHAT YOU GET

A png file of the finished commission that you can then print but PLEASE DO NOT RESELL

If you post anywhere, please give credit

For more info or to make a commission, DM me or email me at willowrainfae@gmail.com

Payment upfront through venmo (preferred) or paypal 

*It can take up to a month to complete the commission, but may be sooner*

[drasnianfrank]

Twenty Books Challenge

Hypothetically, you are only able to keep 20 of your books. Only one book per author/series. So what books are you keeping? Credit due to @the-forest-library (I have been thinking about this list for like a week straight)

Guardians of the West by David and Leigh Eddings - any of the Belgariad/Mallorean series frankly. I read these series I don't know how many times as teen. Yes, they are a problematic. Yes they are trope-y as hell but I love them.

Memory by Lois McMaster Bujold - inching just barely above Miles in Love or Mountains of Mourning.

Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison - This is a book that always makes me cry.

Whale Talk by Chris Cutcher - A swim team comprised of various kids with disabilities and are deeply flawed but are also attempting to do good things? I wish this was on every book list for teens.

All Systems Red (Murderbot Diaries) by Martha Wells - I mean all murderbot series is great. Funny story, I told my mom to read this book eons ago and she only read it after a librarian recommended it.

Return of the King by JRR Tolkien - though technically LotR is one book and I don't have single copies of this anymore. But the scouring of the shire just hits me in different places when I read it.

A Child's Anthology of Poetry edited by Elizabeth Hauge Sword and Victoria Flournoy McCarthy - My textbook of poetry when I was young.

Cloud Cuckoo Land by Anthony Doerr - Another a book that makes me absolutely sob.

The Realms of the Gods by Tamora Pierce - I love the Wild Magic Series the most of all Pierce's series. And yes, I recognize the problematic relationship. But also, talking badger.

Sabriel by Garth Nix - I'm sorry the far superior goth necromancer with bells.

First Truth by Dawn Cook - If had I pick one of the truth series. I have an unnatural fondness of a book series that combines magic with Punnett Squares.

Macbeth by William Shakespeare. Narrowly above Midsummer Night's Dream. But the tomorrow speech is an absolute banger.

All Creatures Great and Small by James Herriot - Any of the Herriot books. I read these almost to pieces.

Double Whammy by Carl Hiassen - It was this or Squeeze Me. But Skink really deserves to saved.

House of Leaves by Mark Z Danielewski - Post Modern Horror.

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein - More Poetry of my childhood.

Dark Tales by Shirley Jackson - specifically The Possibility of Evil.

Daredevil vol 6 by Mark Waid, Chris Samnee - Graphic Novels count and I will fight you. This has one of the first individual issues I picked up.

Sandman vol. 8: World's End by Neil Gaiman, Micha Allred - Sandman holds a near and dear place in my heart. It was a close call between this and American Gods or Preludes and Nocturnes. But I will have echoes of Crements in my head.

Hawkeye vol. 4: Rio Bravo by Matt Fraction, David Aja - Pizza Dog! Also any of the volumes are fantastic and visually gorgeous.

I did take the prompt literally, but here are five more books I either always buy on kindle/can only get as an ebook. I would pay an extraordinary amount of money for these in print.

Toad Words and other stories by T Kingfisher - I was following her when she was still writing fantasy!

I Reap You Not by Catelyn Winona - Second Person done right.

True Porn Clerk Stories by Ali Davis - This causes me to giggle, rage, and cry.

The Heiress Effect by Courtney Milan - Brothers Sinister series is the standard I compare all Regency Novels to.

Night Shift by Stephen King - Specifically Quitter's Inc. But frankly any collection of Stephen King is gold.

Tagging @thatoldstandby, @msfehrwight, @raventycho, @timemachineyeah, @theneptuneviolin and anyone else. And of course you can include pictures too.

[artisafeelingg]

AUTHENTICITY:

I always talk to people and get the “you’re so different than I imagined” talk. While I know this is meant to be a compliment, and hearing it gives me great solace in knowing that someone has finally uncovered the real Lucia without letting their judgements of who I am from my social media, etc. hinder that, I cannot help but feel slightly sad. What about all of the individuals that never see the real me? Or all of the people who allow an Instagram post or a passing glance to write my narrative of who I am as an individual? This blog post is dedicated to starting my journey of authenticity and sharing ME on social media. From a young age I’ve been passionate about writing. In my eyes, the beauty of the written word surpasses all other forms of communication. Writing was my first love, and we had a tumultuous affair from writing articles for The Indianapolis Star to publishing my poetry in an anthology on Amazon and other international print magazines. Like all first loves, I put a tremendous amount of pressure on my love for writing and considered even making it my major. Eventually, we went our separate ways but my passion and knack for it has never ceased to exist, even many years later. I’m writing this first post as a toast to authenticity, and to using my social media to express who Lucia Ponader really is. She rather sentimental (queue the weekly cry sesh!) She is an avid lover of words and will constantly use large words which shocks people (girls can be hot and smart too. It’s called elevated diction. Godspeed on your journey of literacy). She is messy, passionate, unorganized (just ask her friends) and a whirlwind of emotion and intensity. She is a lover of ALL Asian cuisine and with absolutely zero apprehension would eat any form of Asian cuisine every day for the rest of her life. She is a self proclaimed dumpling connesuir. She absolutely cannot function without her trusted Aquaphor. She MUST sleep with multiple fans blasting on full speed directly onto her face (to the average overnight guest one would believe that they were at sea on a particularly windy day trying to fall asleep in her room). She might quite possibly be a hoarder because of her emotional attachment to literally anything. She enjoys sunshine beaming down, with a kombucha in tow and her favorite book. Or watercoloring outdoors with a great friend. She lived in Italy for 8 months and LOVES to travel. She conquered Hawaii next. Her absolute favorite movie of all time is the Great Gatsby directed by Baz Luhrmann, one of her favorite directors of all time. She hates driving, those sporadic “can I talk to you” texts, and picky eaters. She aspires to be a food critic, travel to every country in the world, and make her own Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations (P.S. Anthony Bourdain is my answer to the who would you have dinner with dead or alive question). She hates small talk and would rather engage in an enthralling discussion about something more abstract. Her favorite question to argue: do you believe in the idea of truth as it is literally defined? (in my opinion the correct answer is no, truth is merely a construct that is completely subjective and therefore is inherently unable to exist according to the definition of “truth”). She is creative and thinks outside the box; rules do not apply to her. She is an internationally published poet. She once ghostwrote music for her SoundCloud rapping ex. Favorite artist? Monet or musically it would have to be Cigarettes After Sex. She has been coined the “jester” of her friend group, as it’s her job to entertain and make people laugh. She does not believe that love is enough or that it exists for her (absolutely feel free to prove me wrong at any point). She loves a good laugh. She has flaws too, like all of us, but perhaps we will dive into those in another post. She exists differently in every single persons mind, but it’s time she takes control of that narrative, just a little. Here’s my take on authenticity, perfectly imperfect. Stop taking Instagram so seriously.

[queer-erin]

End of the year question answers

(stolen from someone else's ask list but posted in one long go)

Song of the year?

Poetry by Dead Men by Sara Bareilles (don't care that it's not released this year, it was still the song of my year)

Album of the year?

Mini World by Indila

Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

Icon for hire ... blindside was a bop

Movie of the year?

Nimona, hands down, I'm still not quite over how good it was, fuck disney

TV show of the year?

Star Trek Lower Decks. They did a really good job with the overarching plot this season

Episode of tv or webisode that defined the year for you?

Game Changer: Escape the green room, like it was back in March and I still can't stop thinking about it, so we'll done, and Lou and Brennan immediately breaking stuff will never not be funny

Favorite actor of the year?

Jess McKenna, between Play it by ear, lower decks, and the off book podcast relisten, she's seemingly everywhere I'm watching/listening

Game of the year?

Littlewood cuz I like collecting and crafting and I can play this game for hours and hours and hours

Best month for you this year?

There wasn't really one unfortunately.

Something that made you cry this year?

A lot of things, but most recently @ zoestormwriting's Enchanted Forest anthology. (Good tears), like the stories were so sweet and they resonated so hard on an emotional level.

Something you want to do again next year?

Take the California Zephyr (but likely out east this time instead of just up into the mountains

Talk about a new friend you made this year

I met a transfem person and their then partner at a friend's birthday and loved chatting with both of them, it did sound like they broke up but I've had coffee with one of them a few times and we've had lovely conversations each time.

How was your birthday this year?

Really good! My partner asked a bunch of friends to get together for lunch with me at this open air food place and it was a small thing but I loved getting to see everyone. Likely the best birthday in a long time.

Favorite book you read this year?

There were a lot, Through Verdant Mirrors was a delight, Already mentioned Enchanted Forest, I bought and read a ton of @ beedokwrites' books on itch, all of which were lovely, also the light novels for I'm in Love with the Villainess

What’s a bad habit you picked up this year?

Skipping breakfast, I used to be extremely regular about it.

Post a picture from the beginning of the year

Post a picture from the end of the year

A memorable meal this year?

I made a turkey and potato dumpling soup from November leftovers and it's my favorite soup to make.

What’re you excited about for next year?

I had to drop out of a Spanish class I was taking from the community college cuz the instructor, he was a jerk who didn't teach well, so I'm taking it next semester with an instructor who knows her shit and wasn't a jerk

What’s something you learned this year?

I started learning how to spin yarn on a drop spindle, I didn't know they were a thing until I read @ niki-smith's deep and dark blue and it's been a delightful experience.

What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

We have a working fireplace now

Favorite place you visited this year?

Glenwood springs, in that it was the only place we went, took the train up, best way to go.

If you could send a message to yourself back on the first day of the year, what would it be?

Shoe sizes don't stop being gendered at 12, understand hat you've already lost two and a half sizes when you're telling other trans women "amazing for you" when they share how much they lost!

Did you keep any New Year’s Resolutions?

I didn't make any, so no

Did you create any characters (in games, art, or writing) this year? Describe one

I made a character for a Halloween zine that I didn't end up submitting to, a dragoness writing a recipe blog style story for a "dragon readers digest" print publication found footage sort of deal. Still have like half of it written and a lot of her details in my head.

[railingsofsorrow]

all i do is try, try, try

[regulus black x james potter]

summary: james and reggie learn more about each other and some things come to light.

pairing: r.b x j.p

w.c: 6,8k

warnings/content: lily and james' so proclaimed “date”; remus and reggie actually talk; sirius is a not-so-bad brother; my dear pandora makes an appearance and regulus decides his future; discussions of running away; hints of child abuse; a bit of fist fighting.

third installment of the "mirrorball series"  

part of “the taylor swift anthology

[chapter one; chapter two]

A/N: we've come to the last chapter of the mirrorballs series. I have this feeling of longing in my chest cause I loved writing this, especially because it involved two of my favourites characters in the hp universe :(

A/N: i'm thinking about writing some extras blurbs/headcannons based on this fic, what do yall think?

☆ . ｡ .:* - *:. ｡ .☆

Last Saturday. Seven-thirty p.m. The Three Broomsticks. 

“I won't tell anybody, Potter. Don't fret.” Lily Evans rolled her green eyes with the tip of her lips raising slightly. “I'm not surprised. They have been doing that for generations.”

James bit his lip in thought, “Yes. I s'pose you're right.”

“I'm always right.” Lily shrugged, taking a sip of her cappuccino. James playfully scowled at the red haired, who smirked in response. 

If you'd tell James Fleamont Potter that he would be having a completely platonic date with Lily Evans a few years back, he'd promptly print out the papers for the closer asylum in London. There was a time where James was a hundred and fifty percent into Lily, but now was not that time anymore. He didn't know what happened. 

Deep down he did know but he wasn't ready to admit it out lout yet. All comes with great patience — as his mum always says. 

Despite not being totally in love with her anymore-if he ever once was- he was happy they could be friends. Although Sirius would never believe that. James could see his face already. 

“It's a nice change in you, Potter.” James blinked in surprise, looking away from the window. Snowflakes were getting stuck on it; he wondered if he could brush them out by the time they left the The Three Broomsticks or if they would have already melted. “Seeing you part ways with that Slytherin prejudice you had.”

James huffed, “I have no prejudice, Lily Flower. 's just not my fault some of them can't stop being dumb little pricks.”

She gave him a stern look and James gulped, recoiling his shoulders slightly. 

“Alright then. I am glad about you and Mary though. Never thought-”

“What? Why- why would you be happy for me and Mary?” Lily stammered, almost choking on her drink. “We're friends. We're very good friends. Just like you and Sirius!” Not that James needed to know about the deeper feelings Lily Evans had for Mary Macdonald. 

James stared at Lily strangely, “I know.” He said, “But I've never seen you being friends with anyone that actually likes Quidditch. Besides Mar.” His head tilted when Lily seemed a bit too relieved. He kept that question on his head until the end of their date, for some reason. 

Until, it finally made sense. Just as it did with Remus and Sirius. God, he is so damn dense about romance!

“ You like Mary!”

“Shut up!”

Present time. The Great Hall. 

“Did Reggie just replace me with Prongs?” 

Sirius looked away from the conversation he was immersed in with Peter and Mary to stare at his boyfriend. “What did you say?” 

Remus pointed with his chin to the scene at the end of the hall, where two boys were talking, one with green robes and the other with red ones. The Slytherin had his back turned in  Remus' direction, but the dark curls and the way he behaved screamed Noble House of the Black. He knew that because of Sirius, of course. The way his boyfriend walked was the same his brother did, the only difference wad they way they spoke; Regulus recited the words as poetry while Sirius' had a careless attitude in his tone. 

“That's not Regulus.” Sirius said, squinting a bit to see. The boys were too far to be able to be seen by anyone else with the clarity Remus specified. 

Remus gave Sirius a blank look. 

“What?” 

“How come you don't recognize your own brother but I do?”

“I don't know, Moony. Maybe because you think you recognised him by only taking a look at him backwards and I actually know what he looks like.” Sirius mused, “Besides, why would be be talking to James of all people?” He turned back to the conversation a while later. 

Remus kept his attention elsewhere. James and Regulus didn't talk. They didn't as much as glance at each other. And they didn't seem to be arguing given the body language and the— the smile on both of their faces. 

His werewolf abilities were making him hallucinate because of the full moon. It had to be it. 

Why else would Regulus be talking to James of all people? 

Pandora Lestrange was the kindest soul to ever walk Hogwarts; at least according to Barty Crouch Jr. Regulus couldn't agree more. She had the power to lit up a room with her angel-like voice and her carefree attitude. 

Pandora also knew whenever people were hiding something from her. She always knew. Call that a sixth sense, if you will. She didn't need to pressure much for Regulus to spill everything about his arranged marriage. One he had successfully delayed thanks to James. 

"Hold on, Reg." Pandora cuts him off mid-sentence, "Who is doing this project with you again?" She must have misread, certainly. 

“Uh, Potter.”

“Not James Potter?”

“Is there another Potter in the castle, Pandora?”

"You're being friends with James Potter?!"

The pale boy's cheek get tinted pink immediately, “Not friends. More of... acquaintances.” 

Pandora puts a hand over her mouth, “I knew there was something there.” 

Regulus' forehead creased, “What are you on about, Pandora? There is nothing—”

“...The way he kept looking at you in the halls...” 

His eyes widened in clear surprise. “Pandora—”

“James has a crush on you, Reg!” 

Regulus covers her lips with his hand right away, inspecting if anyone heard what she had shrieked out. “Are you insane?” 

She blinks innocently, then shakes her head since his hands are still over her mouth. When he finds it safe to release her, she says excitedly. “Are you dating him? Is this why you keep meeting secretly on the Greenhouse?”

“No!” Regulus denies vehemently, “He's just helping me, that's all!”

The look she gives him combines with the words that leave her mouth, “This is how a love story begins, Reggie...” 

He rolls his eyes, pushing his curls back. “Please. As if I'd have anything with a Potter. Besides, I'm already betrothed.”

“James doesn’t seem so happy about that either...” Pandora snickers, staring down at her drawing on her parchment. She really should start doing her homework at any moment now.

Regulus huffs, standing up, “You're delusional, Lestrange.”

“... And you have a crush on him too, Black. I know it.” Regulus left the Slytherin common room with a roll of his eyes. He neither denied it nor did he confirm the assumption. 

Present time. Hogwarts Library.

“Lupin.”

Remus whipped his neck in surprise. There stood Regulus Black. The boy he hadn't seen in a while. The friend he missed. 

“I forgot to give it back,” Regulus offered the book in his hand towards Remus, eyeing the empty chair behind him. “May I?”

He was so different from Sirius. Sirius wouldn't have asked, he would've just sat and started a conversation out of nowhere. 

“Of course.” Remus straightened his back, closing the book he was reading. “You already finished it?”

“Yes. It's amazing.” Regulus gave him a small smile. “Thank you for recommending it.” 

“No need to thank me for anything.” Remus shrugged, tapping his hands on the book cover. “How are you?”

“Fine.” Regulus shifted. “You? I see you have been commentating on the games now. Who told you that was a nice idea?” He said before Remus could reply, gaining a chuckle. 

“James did, actually. He forced me into it. Your brother helped.”

“Of course he did.” He rolled his eyes, smirking slightly. Remus saw an almost fond look lighting up his gray eyes, he wondered if it was about his brother or someone else he mentioned. “You are doing a great job cursing in front of McGonagall.”

“Why do I have the feeling you are not joking?” Remus snickered as Regulus chuckled. 

“Mhm,” Regulus played with the hem of his robes. “I wanted to- to apologize.” 

Remus' eyes widened. “You don't —”

“I do need to.” He gave him a gentle smile, very distinct from the usual Black smirk. “I was rude to you last week and I didn't mean it. There were just some things in my head and I… I'm sorry, Remus. You're my friend, I shouldn't have treated you like that.”

“That's alright.” Remus responded kindly. “You're forgiven. I wasn't mad or anything, you know?”

“You couldn't be mad at me if you wanted to.” Regulus smirked, neck turning to the library entrance when he heard the disturbance caused by a certain group. His smile widened but he quickly hid it, standing up. “I will see you around then, Remus.”

“See you, Reg.” The boy waved him goodbye as the dark haired one walked out of the library. He couldn't help but notice James Potter with a lost gaze on the entrance. “Lost something there, Prongs?”

Peter was mumbling something to Sirius as they sat down on the table when James quickly wiped his head around, finally seeing Remus, who carried an innocent look. 

“Ah, no.” James nodded to him, sitting down besides Sirius. “Just, looking for you. You're here.”

“I'm here. Yes.” Remus said. James saw a hint of something in his eyes and panicked, almost as if he had been caught for something by his own mum. He hadn't done anything. 

“Where is your friend there, Wormy?” Sirius joked, not noticing the exchange between James and Remus. “Got wet by the rain?” Asked him, studied their surroundings for the paper plane Peter had charmed to follow him anywhere. Which had drenched in the rain when they were in their last Quidditch match.

Peter rolled his eyes, “Bugger off, Padfoot.”

They all laughed loudly, and not even the librarian made them shut up later. They were kicked out afterwards. 

James Potter was conflicted. 

He no longer knew what his body was doing at certain moments, especially his heart. Why the bloody hell did his heartbeat accelerated every time he saw green robes and dark curls?

He no longer had control of himself. He chose to ignore that for now. 

“Are you ready to go?” James approached Regulus once his friends left somewhere else. He caught him alone, reading a book. It made sense that Remus and Regulus were friends, they both enjoyed reading a lot. 

Regulus looked up, a slight crease formed on his forehead when his eyes met James'. He looked around, finding James' group of troublemakers a little bit far from them, talking. 

“Reggie?” James lips lifted up a bit. “Are you lost?” 

“Are you lost?” Regulus shot back, making a mental note to where he stopped reading to close the book. “Your friends are right there. I'm sure you didn't mistook me for Sirius?”

A roll of eyes was sent his way, “No, Reggie. You two aren't identical for that to happen. Only, maybe, from behind. You both walk the same, it is actually funny—”

“James.” Regulus deadpanned.

“Right.” The Gryffindor fixed his glasses, “We should carry on with our project.” 

Regulus sighed, “James, you don't have to do this.”

“Do what?” 

“I told my mother that I'd be doing a project. That was enough for her to leave me alone for a couple of weeks. We don't really have to do anything—”

“Yes, we do.” James interrupted him, crossing his arms. 

Regulus gave him a blank look for being cut off. He hated when James do that, and he do that a lot. 

“No, we don't—” 

“I need help with the new DADA assignment and you're the best student in the class.” 

A huff left Regulus lips when he was cut off again. “Remus can help you with that.”

“No, he can't. He's too busy wooing your brother to do anything else. I need your help, Reggie.” 

Regulus groaned, pushing his hair back. His curls waving back right where they were before. “I don't need to know about their doings, but thank you, James.”

James took a step closer, causing Regulus to take a step back cautiously. “Why are you so far again?” He didn't need to explain it wasn't in the physical aspect. “We were having an entire conversation until last week. What happened? Did I do something?” 

The younger Black slumped his shoulders, a guilty feeling creeping up in his spine. Why did he have to be so upfront about everything? And why did he have to have such pretty honey brown eyes? Slightly darker than Remus'. 

Regulus realized that he had been thinking less of Remus Lupin these last few weeks. He would never admit out loud that this was thanks to the boy in front of him. 

“No.” Regulus squinted his eyes at James. “Are your glasses crooked again? What did you do?” 

James blinked in surprise when Regulus' fingers came in contact with his face as he slipped out his glasses. 

He saw through his blurry gaze that Regulus had grabbed his wand. A second later he could see clearly again; with both lenses. 

“Thank you.” James said, adjusting the glasses while blinking continuously. He was flabbergasted that he was able to see even better. 

“You didn't do anything.” Regulus commented, staring down at the History of Magic book in his hands.   Pandora's voice rang through his mind. James Potter has a crush on you. And you have a crush on him too. “We can meet after Quidditch practice if you'd like?” Regulus looked up, forcing his shy side away and putting his confidence persona first. 

James was already looking at him. He seemed to be analyzing him, searching his features. 

“James?” Regulus carefully asked. 

James touched his cheek softly, Regulus almost had a combustion but didn't move, he froze. 

“I hadn't see this one before,” James said, retracting his hand slowly. He lifted his eyes to gray astonished  ones. “You have a small mole below your eye.” 

Regulus let out a shaky breath, shifting slightly. James smiled softly. When he felt he was being watched, he looked behind the younger Black, to find Remus Lupin staring at them with Sirius, Marlene, Dorcas, Lily and Peter in a heated conversation by his side. He was the only one that seemed to realize James and Regulus at the end of the corridor. 

James cleaned his throat, adjusting so Regulus could cover his best friend's vision of himself. 

“We'll meet after practice, then. See you at the Greenhouse later?” 

Regulus nodded and they parted after that. Werewolf's eyes following both. 

Last Saturday. Seven-thirty p.m. Diagon Alley. 

“Wasn't hard to figure it out, James.” Lily pulled her hair back due to it slapping her face all the time. “The way you look at him. I noticed.”

James flushed, turning his face to a clothing store. “I looked at you too. You never noticed that, did you?”

“Oh, I did. But you were annoying back then. A total idiot, too.” 

James opened his mouth to protest but she carried on, “Now, you're not. You're okay, I guess. But it's not me you're looking at anymore, is it?” 

He buried his hands in his jacket, breathing out as he searched around for something he didn't know what it was. 

“Do you like him, James?” Lily asked, giving him a serious look. He met her gaze but quickly turned away. 

“I never said I liked him. You just assumed—”

“You never denied it either.” 

She giggled when he groaned. 

“Why don't you act on it?” Lily widened her eyes as soon as she spoke, “No. Not like you did with me a year ago. Regulus doesn't seem like the person that handles extravaganza.” 

James' cheeks were catching on fire as he adjusted his glasses, even though they barely bothered him anymore. 

“He doesn't.” 

“Which shows how completly opposite to Sirius he is—”

“No, Lily.” James cuts her off, tone upset. “He doesn't like me back.” 

Lily blinked, then she stopped walking. James frowned when he didn't see the red haired by his side. 

“What are you doing?” He inquired confused, seeing her frozen. 

“Are you blind?” Lily asked, giving him a look of disbelief. James walked towards her still confused. “Merlin, James. He does like you back, you idiot!”

“Are you crazy?”

“No, but you're glasses are definitely not working. How can you not see?” 

“See what, Lils?” James huffed frustrated. “There is nothing to see. We were just helping each other and now it's over because he doesn't even want to be around me—”

Lily groaned loudly, “He stares at you as if you created the bloody constellations, James.” Lily snapped, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. 

James narrowed his eyes at her in suspicion. “No, he doesn't. And how would you know?” Lily crossed her arms, getting back to the slow walk as she ignored James promptly. He followed her quickly. “Do you watch us, Lily flower?”

“Stop it!” Lily shrieked, cheeks turning pink. “I just did it once because I was curious. You two never seemed to get along, so...” She shrugged, “I thought you were up to something.”

James chuckled, “Up to something?”

“You're always up to something, Potter.” 

“Right.” 

James frowned. He stares at you as if you created the bloody constellations, James. 

No . I would've noticed . James thought. She's absolutely crazy.  

Present day. Eight a.m. Outside Potions class.   

Sirius Black didn't get along with his brother's friends. He could say that they didn't like him and that's why they didn't click with each other. But he would be outright lying; he didn't like them at all as well. The feeling was mutual. 

Regulus' friends consisted of: Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, Pandora Lestrange and Dorcas Meadowes. The only ones he could tolerate were the last two, given that the others pretty much held countless fights and bickerings with Sirius over the years. 

Sirius decided to follow his boyfriend's advice and try to figure out what was going on in his family as of now. To better say, what was going on with Regulus and what had his parents out him up to this time. As much as he didn't let it show, he cared about his brother. 

He wished he had taken Regulus with him when he went to the Potters. He did. But the soft idiot still had hope in the ones he called parents. He wondered if the hope remained after Sirius left. 

So, Sirius decided to talk to the closest—nicest—person to Regulus: Pandora. 

The blonde girl that carried a dreamy-like gaze and a smile everywhere she went stopped by the bookshelf Sirius was leaning into. 

Her head tilted as she analysed him up and down. Sirius cut to the chase. 

“Hello, Lestrange.” Sirius pretended to choose a book. 

“Hello, Black.” Pandora replied, a grin lifting her lips. “You need something, don't you?”

Sirius blinked in surprise at her bluntness. “Uh,”

“You either want to know about Reggie or James is trying to know it through you…” Pandora held the book against her chest, almost jumping in her step at the excitement cursing through her body. She was absolutely right, then. James Potter had a thing for her best friend. 

Sirius almost got a whiplash. James? What would James want to know about Reggie?

“Is there something happening with him?” Sirius asked, deciding to ignore the other question for now. “I heard about a rumour. Wanna know if it's true.”

“The betrothal,” Pandora frowned sadly. “Yes. It is true. Your Mother is certainly… Much. ”

You can say that again. 

“He's sixteen, Sirius. Reggie doesn't want to get married.” 

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Sirius snapped, “It's not like I didn't try to get him out of there—”

“You didn't try hard enough then.” Pandora cut him off, walking towards him. Sirius stepped back. “He's your little brother, you know? Whatever your parents did it is not his fault. Stop acting like it is.”

“He was the one who chose to stay!” 

“Then you have to be the one to pull him out!” The librarian's shush rang through the library, scaring some students. Sirius and Pandora didn't care. “Try again. He needs you. He always has.” 

Sirius watched helplessly as she walked away. What could he do?

Later on that day. Peter, Remus, James and Sirius' Dormitory. 

James cursed when Remus said his answer for the homework was wrong again. 

“You can't concentrate,” Remus observed. Suspicious. 

“Why can't you just tell me the right answer, Moony?” He whined.

“Because you won't learn like that.”

“I don't need to learn, I need to pass the year! How can we all be friends if I'm left behind because you didn't help me with this single homework?”

Sirius entered the room, not sharing a mere hello as he threw himself in his bed, face down to the mattress. Remus and James shared a look, forgetting their previous bickering. 

“Pads?” James called. 

“Sirius.” Remus tried. 

Silence. 

“Padfoot, what is it?” Potter sat on the end of his best mate's bed, eyeing him carefully. 

“Did someone didn't compliment your hair in the hallway?” Remus teased, knowing his boyfriend would lift his head to show his indignant expression. 

He didn't. 

Remus was starting to get concerned. 

That's when Sirius mumbled something that was muffled by the pillow. 

“What?” James hissed as Remus got closer to Sirius, cracking the bed loudly. 

“Take your head out of the pillow so we can understand a word you say, love.” Remus brushed the boy’s dark strands softly. When Sirius finally moved, they waited expectantly. Remus felt a tinge of something in his chest as he saw his conflicted features. 

“It’s Reggie.” Sirius explained what he said before, passing a hand through his face frustrated. 

James froze. 

“What? What happened to Reg? Is he alright?” Both boys in front of him looked at him strangely. He cleaned his throat awkwardly, arching his back slightly. 

“Mother is trying to make his life miserable and she’s probably going to succeed if i don’t do something.” Sirius shared a look with Remus. As if asking help me, what do i do? “He hates me but i need to do something. I can’t just watch anymore.”

“Then do something.” Remus agreed, not wavering the gaze they held. He was trying to give some assurance. “You want us to help?”

James didn’t think twice about agreeing. Pretending he had no idea what was happening, even if he did had an idea; the betrothal. 

Sirius wanted to break Regulus out of the Noble House of Black, during next summer. So he could pick up some stuff of his in the meantime. When Remus asked Sirius the million dollar question “ does he want to leave them?”, Sirius responded with a harsh “i don’t know .”

“Of course he does. Do you’ve any idea how much bad stuff he went through in there?”

Again, Remus and Sirius gave him a weird look. 

“And how would you know this, Prongs?”

“Right.” Sirius tensed while looking at James, as if he had finally found something he didn’t like in him. Something he had never searched for but was right there all along. “And Reg?” Black narrowed his eyes, “Since when is my brother Reg to you, James?”

Maybe James should’ve stayed quiet. 

“Isn’t he Reg to everyone?”

“No.” Remus really was not helping him. 

“Well, sorry. Should I say the full name then? Would you rather me to act as if i don’t know your name either?”

Remus cursed under his breath after James spoke. He really should have stayed quiet . Provoking Sirius on times like this was like asking for trouble. He felt a headache coming. 

“What the hell do you have with my brother?” Sirius spat out, standing up. James gulped. 

“Sirius-” Remus attempted to mediate.

“I asked you a question, James!” Sirius ignored his boyfriend, who sighed.

“And I heard you loud and clear, Sirius. Stop bloody yelling at me, i’m not deaf.” James snapped. He was starting to get upset. What was this territorial bullshit with his bother if he didn’t even spoke to him face to face? Planning to break him out of somewhere he didn’t lived on anymore, how exactly would this work? How long would this good-brother-persona last until Regulus was getting destroyed again? “We talk some times. He helps me with homework.”

Sirius scoffed, pushing his hair back nervously. “Why? Why Regulus of all people?”

“He’s great at Defence Against the Dark Arts.” 

“Remus is too, why don’t you ask him?”

“Because i don’t want to!” James yelled, standing up too, leveling with Sirius’ height, which wasn’t intimidating in the slightest. “Merlin, stop being a fucking hypocrite just because someone was there for him when he needed. Just because it wasn’t you .”

Remus almost choked in his breath. This is when Peter walked in the dorm, happily talking about how he finally got the paper plane charmed to follow him anywhere. He stopped speaking when he noticed James falling on the floor with his nose bleeding and Sirius on top of him ready to throw another punch, and Remus tried to apart the fight.

“Wormtail, a little help?!” Lupin cried out, almost being punched in the middle. Peter unfroze from the spot and ran towards them, pulling back Sirius as Remus pushed James to the other side of the room. “Stop it! Stop it, you two!”

“Guys, what’s going on?” Peter asked in astonishment. 

“How were you there for him exactly, James? Taking advantage does not require that much, you know?” Peter’s eyes widened as he held Sirius back helplessly. What were they talking about? 

James almost got out of Remus’ hold when Sirius said that, anger firing through him. “I would never do that, you shithead!”

“That’s enough!” Lupin marveled, voice echoing on the room, silencing everyone up immediately. “This is childish, can’t you see? You’re making a big deal out of nothing!”

“Nothing-?”

“ I wasn’t finished, Black .” Sirius pressed his lips shut in a sneer, adverting his eyes. “What is the problem in Regulus talking to James? He talks to me, you never had a problem with that.” He turns to James’ red face, “And you, don’t judge what you don’t know. There is always two sides of a story. You can talk now, as civilized humans .” 

“I don’t care because you don’t have second intentions towards my brother .” Sirius begin, directing a nasty look towards James, whose eyes rolled. 

“That’s because I date you, Sirius.” Remus deadpanned.

“What does that mean?”

“What I said.”

“Who said i had second intentions? You think i’d hurt him?” James interrupted the bickering. 

“You’re not fond of Slytherins.”

“Hell, why does everyone keep saying that?” James cried, “You’re not fond of them either, but that doesn’t mean i go punching every Slytherin I see in the corridor. I just fucking care about Regulus. It’s all!”

“You care?”

“I do.” James stared at the blood in his hand falling out of his nose. “And I won’t stop talking to him because you want me to.”

Sirius blinked. Remus switched the attention between the two like a match. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“If you hurt him-”

“...Then I will throw myself out of the Astronomy Tower. Don’t worry.” 

So, there was something going on. This is why Pandora mentioned James. This is why Remus stared at them in the hallway as if he knew something. Sirius had to start believing more in his boyfriend; he is not a know-it-all for nothing. 

Present time. Greenhouse. 

James Potter realized that Lily Evans was not, in fact, crazy. 

How could you look at Regulus Black and simply not fall in love with his eyes, button nose, mouth... Everything?

He couldn’t care less about Sirius right now. Or that he was in love with his best friend's brother. Or that he's been lying to Sirius every time he asks where he runs off to after Quidditch. 

Regulus was intoxicating to James. He could talk about him all day long and never get tired. Merlin, he was so whipped. And it wasn't even reciprocated. No. How could Regulus Black even feel anything for James Potter? 

“James,” Regulus snapped two fingers in front of him. “Where did you go just now?” He had a teasing grin. James almost melted. 

“Nowhere. So, question five, did I got it right?” James quickly switched subjects, leaning over Regulus scribbling. His handwriting was incredibly fancy. Exactly like James would think it would be. Like a true pureblood. James couldn't say that about himself, though. His handwriting was as messy as he was good at Quidditch. 

“No, you mistook the spell name. But the rest is correct, so far.” 

James grinned, proudly. Regulus looked up and immediate scoffed. 

“That was thanks to me if you recall all our lessons?” Regulus pressed with a edge on his tone. 

“Please, don't my efforts count?” James exaggerated in his gestures, leaning towards the smaller boy. “You can't simply forget all my hard work, Reg—”

“Of course,” Regulus rolled his eyes, resting his chin on his palm. “Hey, all of that flirting had to count for something, didn't it?” 

James sighed shakily, studying Regulus' features. 

“Why do you get quiet all of a sudden? Are you alright?” Regulus tilted his head, watching the boy's attention get lost somewhere inside his head. He didn't know it was lost in his eyes. 

“No. I'm in love.” James said. 

Regulus eyebrows shot up in surprise. “In love?” Then, his brain clicked and the surprise died down. “Right. Evans.”

“Not Evans. No.” James smiled at him. “Do you wanna know who it is?” 

“If I say no will you move on from the subject?”

“It's you.” James let out in a daze, ignoring what he had just said. “I'm in love with you. Completely and utterly, Reggie. I can't deny it anymore.” The confession came out sooner than James planned it would. He figured he might as well get his heart broken like a bandaid. So the pain would go away faster, right?

He only hoped so. 

“Are you high?” Regulus blurted out, frowning as he checked the temperature with the back of his hand on James' forehead. “You should be aware that Sirius gets his stuff from a not so reliable source—”

“What— What are you talking about?” James cuts him off, slapping Regulus' hand away. 

Regulus stared at him in silence, “You're funny, James.”

“I'm being serious, Regulus.”

“No,” Regulus stood up, fixing his robe as he did. “My brother is Sirius.”

“Merlin, Reggie! Would you just listen to m—”

Regulus yanked his arm away once James grabbed it, “No. This is not funny, James! We're done here. Goodbye.”

James watched him walk away with his eyes widening. His brain and heart was a whirlwind of emotions; he wasn't thinking straight anymore. 

“I love you!” He yelled, and Regulus stopped right before the exit of the Greenhouse. “I- I love you ever since I saw you crying here while yanking some plants because you were mad for what you had just seen.” James stepped quietly towards him, scared to frighten him away. He seemed to always do that. “I love you ever since we got to have a proper conversation for the first time. When I made you smile. When you let me close enough to see the color of your eyes, which still to this day are never quiet clear to me.” 

“I've loved you ever since you told me to fuck off in our first Quidditch game against each other's teams. I just didn't know it yet.” James whispered the last part as he lifted his hand to touch Regulus' cold fingers. They were always cold. 

“You have a funny way of showing it,” Regulus let out shakily. “James...”

“Hi,” James said, nose brushing against Regulus dark curls. “Can I see your beautiful face, please?” 

Regulus turned around slowly, for James' demise. He looked up after swallowing hard, meeting honey brown orbs. 

“You're so beautiful, did you know that?” James let out, brushing his thumb against the boy's cheek. 

No, I'm not. Regulus' mind played. 

“The most beautiful person I've ever met.” Regulus felt like crying whenever James spoke. He was so good with words. “I'm sorry if you don't believe me.” James concluded with a sad gaze, pulling his hand down. He'd rather not be reciprocated than to force himself on someone. James could settle for loving Regulus Black from afar, as he had done for the past weeks. 

Regulus didn't let James turn away, grabbing his arm in impulse. They had a funny way of not letting each other go; a bit aggressive, although not enough to bruise. 

“Do you mean it?” 

James tilted his head. 

“Of course I mean it. Can't you see?”

“You can't love me,” Regulus blurted out, shifting uncomfortable while still touching James. “Not that fast.” 

James shoulder's slumped and he felt a lump in his throat. That sentence almost made him feel mad. Almost. It was Regulus Black we were talking about, he couldn't be mad at him if he tried. 

“Don't tell me what I can or cannot feel, Reggie.” James said softly, a tinge of something in his voice that Regulus couldn't pinpoint what it was. 

Regulus finally — or not — released James' forearm, lifting both hands to his hair and pushing it back in frustration. His gray eyes were like a storm now. James could see himself drown in them without a second thought. “You don't know me, James!” 

“I do know you. The parts you let me know, at least.”

“And you think that's enough to love someone?” Regulus scoffed, “Knowing only a few parts of them?”

“Show me, then.”

“What?”

James didn't approach this time, he buried his hands in the pockets of his robes, slightly nervous. “Show me all of you. The parts you haven't let me see yet. The parts you enjoy and the parts you hate. I know you think that there's nothing to love about you,” James said, remembering a few times that he had seen Sirius break down in his arms because of his parents. He knew Regulus went through the same. And he still hadn't got out of that cursed house. He was still there. How could he believe someone could love him if everything about love that was presented to him was in form of abuse? Should he even want to be loved if it was like that? “But, there's so much good in you. So much love and care and you just don't see it. Because you don't know how to see it, Reggie.”

“And you do?” Regulus asked, clenching his jaw. It was like he was stripped naked in front of James; he felt so vulnerable with everything that was being said. Nothing being a lie, but the pure truth. 

“I don't know,” James responded to Regulus complete surprise. “But if you give me a chance we can try and figure it out together.” 

The Black heir took a sharp intake of breath. Pandora wasn't crazy then. 

Unless this is a prank. A stupid one. And I'm falling for it. His head said and his heart fought. 

Regulus' brain was worst than when his mother yelled profanities at him. 

“This isn't a prank, either.” James seemed to read his mind. “I can go outside and charm my voice so everyone can hear it—”

“Stop.” Regulus blushed. 

“—and then you can finally believe me—”

“James!” Regulus pushed him back when he stepped to exit the Greenhouse. This insane bastard. “Don't be an idiot.”

James blinked, eyes widened. “I'm not joking—”

“I know!” He didn't. “I know, you idiot.” Regulus shook his head in disbelief. A rush of impulse came over his senses and without a warning he was kissing James Potter. Again. 

James gasped when Regulus' lips crashed against his, but as soon as he felt a movement of space he held the boy's neck in place so he wouldn't be able to step away. And he melted. He melted in Regulus' arms with his soft lips and cold hands touching his waist and his big eyelashes tickling his cheeks. 

Oh my, why did everything about him had to be so perfect?  

Once their breath ran out, they split apart in-between little pecks as if they couldn't stay away much longer. 

“I love you.” James kissing him again, “And you don't have to say it back.” He cupped the pale boy's cheeks, making him open his eyes to stare at him in confusion. “I am not saying it so you have to say it back, alright? I won't do anything you don't want me to as well. I just love you. That's it.” 

“Shut up,” Regulus begged, squeezing James' red tie between his fingers so they could glue their mouths again. James hummed in contentment. “You never make me uncomfortable, James.” But I don't know if I love you yet. I'm sorry. 

“Okay.” James grinned madly, blushing when they split apart. It was his time to be red. Regulus enjoyed that reaction. 

“I enjoy being with you,” Regulus began, hesitantly. 

“Reggie—”

“Let me speak.” 

James clipped his lips shut immediately. 

“I enjoy your company,” He repeated. “But I don't know if I— I just. I just have feelings for you.” James hazel eyes glinted with something. Regulus didn't know what it was. “I'm sorry.”

“You've got nothing to apologize for.” James smiled, pecking his lips. “As long as I can be with you then it is enough for me.” 

“You're such a dork, James Potter.” Regulus rolled his eyes, flushing pink as James kissed him again. He didn't back away. He would never back away. 

A loud ruffling outside made Regulus flinch. James cupped his cheeks, making him look at him again. 

“So, can I be your dork?” A groan and a laugh echoed through the Greenhouse. 

They laid by the window to watch the stars, although the sky was a bit cloudy. Regulus nose was buried on the croak of James’ neck as the other asked him about the constellations quietly. 

“Sirius is planning to break you out of the Manor.” James let out without warning. Regulus inhaled slowly. 

“ What? ”

“Not only him but me and Rem as well.’’

“No. Do you know how dangerous that is?” James frowned when Regulus tried to lean away. “My parents could kill you.”

“I’d die happily. We’d be a bit like Romeo and Juliet, don’t you think?” 

Regulus lifted his head to give him a glare, James’ smile died. 

“Where’s your sense of humor, Reg?”

“It will be in your grave when you try to break me out.”

“There it is.” James grinned, pecking his forehead. 

“Please don’t do it? Tell my brother this is the stupidest idea he’s ever had.”

“This is actually the smartest.”

“James.”

“I’m sorry.” James smiled sadly, caressing his arm. “If you don’t want to, then we won’t do it. I’ll figure it out with Sirius.” Regulus adverted his gray eyes, leaning his cheek on James’ neck. “Do you not want to get out of there?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then…”

“It is not that simple.” Regulus commented, frowning. 

“Didn’t think it was. But we have our ways.” 

Regulus sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, James.” He whispered.

James tightened his embrace, “You won’t. I promise. But it is hurting me to see you suffocating over there. So, i’m gonna ask you again: Do you want to get out of there?”

“I do.” He hesitated. “I do.” He said more certain, curls falling on his eyes as he buried his face on James’ neck again. 

Regulus was tired of trying. That was all he had ever done his entire sixteen years of life. 

He had created a lot of masks, a lot of personas to be able to cope with the world. The perfect son. The perfect student. The perfect brother . Although he had failed admirably the last one, he was still trying a bit. 

Regulus held onto a tightrope most of the time, planning every step, calculating every version he would use that day. It was absolutely exhausting. Draining, even. He dreaded looking in the mirror for he often didn't recognize what was on the reflection. 

It was different with James. He had never faked anything. The only version he showed was the one he carried when he was alone; the angry and sorrowful boy he truly was. 

Even after seeing it, James never stepped back. On the contrary. He walked closer. 

Regulus didn't try with James. He didn't try to hide himself, he was bare. He was vulnerable. And it was the easiest and hardest feeling he ever took inside his chest. Regulus had never felt at ease with someone as he felt with James. 

Regulus was tired of trying. He had been doing that his entire sixteen years of life. 

But trying with James didn't seem too bad. It seemed great, freeing, actually. 

It didn't feel like trying at all. 

[diary-of-a-butch-lesbian]

I also had a recent experience which I would like to talk about here.

For those who do not know, I grew up in quite a rural area. I am used to tiny bookstores and perhaps a handful of queer people in my area, with one or two of those people being trans (like myself)

A lot of what I have learned about myself and my identity comes from my access to the internet, the gender dysphoria bible really opened my eyes and validated my experience of transness. But there still is that small sting of loneliness. I know one or two trans people, only one of whom I am close to. I talk to my cis friends about this, and they are so wonderful about supporting me and validating my identity (one of my friends gave me a nickname, another gave me some gender affirming clothing. Both greatly affirmed me) but i still feel somewhat isolated. I really do dream of going to pride and finding others like me, being able to sit down with another trans person and just talk.

I recently went to a city, which was a wonderful day out on its own, when my feet guided me to a wonderful little bookshop. Of course because it was pride month, I expected to see pride flags, but not this many. I went inside to see two people joking about making the space “even gayer” and I saw two teens conversing near one of the books. The shelves were divided accordingly, a wall of mlm fiction, wlw fiction, with romance, science fiction, horror, dystopia... every sort of genre imaginable. And the nonfiction also struck me. Here I found shelves of queer stories, experiences and art, shining through and there, physically there for me to hold and purchase.

The transgender section was next to the stairs, the whole section encompassed fiction and nonfiction and was as big as the MLM and WLW sections. I was awestruck. By chance I had discovered books about people like myself, the biggest collection I had ever seen. There was practical advice, slice-of-life anecdotes, poetry, prose, all published and printed neatly on the shelves for me to pick up and read. All here, all taking up space in the world.

I bought two books. One of which a practical guide on understanding gender identity, the other an anthology on trans love. I don’t have words for how special this experience was to me, I have never been to pride, nor a gay bar. Come to think of it, this was my first experience in an explicitly queer space, my first time talking to queer strangers. It seems small, but this experienced chipped away at my feeling of loneliness, my feeling of otherness.

It gave me hope.

[emialawliet]

The mysteries of Wonder Egg Priority and some interesting things I found in it

Oh hi Acca. Wait is that a crack on your right lens?

One of the great things about WEP is that it is an original anime wherein we do not have any source material to check on its story thus we do not have a clue on what’s gonna happen next besides the things that happen in each episode. These are one of those animes which are fun to observe.

Plot Summary: Ai scores a “Wonder Egg” from a gachapon machine at a deserted arcade. But now when Ai falls asleep a girl emerges from her Wonder Egg, the worlds of dreams and reality begin to collide. And it’s all connected.

From the first episode, we have been given a huge amount of symbolism. Aside from the main subject of bullying and Ai’s guilt by pretending not to see it that cost her bestfriend’s life, there are a lot of other things that I noticed that seem to have a deeper meaning behind them or could be a hint to something. I’ll list these things one by one from the first 2 episodes..

This post is going to be quite a long one, so I’ll keep it minimal enough to just tickle your thoughts. And believe me, things got clearer to me as I am making this post.

The anime starts in a sort of a dream world.. or is it?

1) The firefly

In some cultures firefly may not have a positive reputation. But in Japan, where they are called "hotaru," they are beloved – a metaphor for passionate love in poetry since Man'you-shu (the 8th century anthology). -Namiko Abe @ thoughtco.com

Ai can be seen looking at a dead firefly. She seems caring for it and she even gave it a proper burial. Could this symbolize someone dear to her? Now let’s proceed..

2) person in the car

Is this a clue? I’ll remember that hair for some reason..

3) Ai’s conversation with the firefly and the Special Gacha Machine

firefly: What are you doing in a place like this?

Ai: Walking.

F: This late at night?

After burying the firefly, it suddenly came out the soil and spoke to Ai with a male voice. Their conversation seems to me like a suspicious man talking to an innocent girl in a place where a young one like her isn’t supposed to be..

F: The first time’s free. Next time bring your wallet.

This is one of the things commonly used to convince someone to try something they are usually not willing to for the first time. Like a free trial..

..and was then led somewhere underground where the “Special Gacha Machine” is located.

That’s a lotta eggs. What could this underground facility be? And here’s the Gacha Machine:

So that’s the thing in the poster.

Weird huh? But the next morning, Ai wakes up with the egg beside her..

4) The dream

..Or is it not entirely a dream? I mean the egg appearing beside her is one thing although it could be that the egg is just in her mind. But the thing that complicates things is the injuries she gets in real life, to the point where she and even Neiru needs to get hospitalized.

Ai asked why this (the whole dream she’s in) is happening to her and this is what Kurumi said:

“Nothing costs more than a free gift huh?” Indeed, life is priceless. But in this story, it is only free the first time. The second night, Ai paid a huge price. Could those injuries mean this?

“This is a dream to you, but to me it is reality.” -Kurumi Saijo

Ai will not die in this dream, as long as her eyes and heart are okay.

Did she really sneak at night twice? Since getting the Wonder Egg to saving Kurumi? In this scene we also see the teacher in full for the first time and I dunno about you guys but I think that hair is familiar..

The firefly even asked her this. We’ve seen Ai sneaking out at night but the things that follow are strange enough to happen in real life. Is it possible that what we're seeing is a mixture of Ai’s imagination and reality?

Something caused these injuries. Or is it Ai herself? Let us find out..

After saving Kurumi, a mysterious male voice said “Too bad, you only get saved. But you have to cheer up if you want your bestfriend back.”

She then asked this:

..but got no clear response. Of course we know the answer, Koito is not going back to life. but why does the voice demand her to do that? Not even the firefly could answer her clearly. But she continued to believe that this will get her bestfriend back. 

“If you can’t protect them, you won’t make it either.” -Firefly

“There’s no point going to save someone if she gets herself killed.” -Ura-Acca

Does they mean the guilt might kill her too? Does this imply suicide? Could this be a hint where Ai gets her injuries?

And Neiru asked her who she is fighting for.. Ai firmly said it was for Koito.

“You don’t like yourself now, so you go. You want to change the self you hate.” Well this could also be true for herself despite saying it’s for her sister whom she let die. How? We’ll soon know more about this I guess.. At the moment, we know that Neiru loves her current self. 

Ai hates herself for betraying her bestfriend. The first friend she ever had.

Koito probably asked her to film the bullying as evidence, but Ai was too scared of being left out. She wasn’t able to get a good shot, but Koito only smiled at her and knew she did her best.

5) The egg

From the title itself, the egg is a very prominent object in this anime. We still do not have a clear answer as to what it really represents, but according to the speaking firefly and Kurumi, it contains what a person wants the most, and in Ai’s case, it is a friend. She denies this to both of them but they both know it is the truth.

The eggs appear in different colors, with letters, numbers and symbols printed on them. Once cracked, it reveals a person. This is where we can relate the egg’s symbolism of life and creation. 

A mysterious male voice angrily told Ai to break the egg, and this is what he said afterwards:

Ai is “good” at it, huh. What could he probably mean I wonder..

It was later revealed that Kurumi is another sculpture, a “captured maiden” in a different world like Ai’s bestfriend Koito. This confirms that Kurumi is also dead, which leads me to think that the eggs are the souls of those who died from suicide or abuse. 

They couldn’t pass on unless the guilt of their friends stop holding them back. And this I think is also what’s happening to our MC Ai and Koito’s soul.

6) Kurumi Saijo

She wears a different uniform than Ai’s. A victim of bullying by 3 girls.

Like Ai, she also said she did not have any friends, just superficial ones.

And this could be hinting at the reason why she was bullied by those girls. She does have the looks. But these looks might be the reason why she had no real friends. And a boyfriend of this fake friend probably liked her and broke up with her fake friend which started the bullying. I smell jealousy.

In this dream, she found her resolve while saving Kurumi.

I gotta say though, the animation is impressive from start to finish. That button popping off has me goin “whoa they even thought of adding that bit.” And the explosion that followed.. oof.

After being saved by Ai, she asked Ai to not forget her and disappeared into dust. Was Kurumi able to finally pass on?

) Minami Suzuhara

Seriously, in this anime, adorable girls have no friends.

Damn her “trauma” is a ridiculous boob monster. 

She could have died due to over fatigue and stress from her coach’s verbal abuse.

Ai had another injury the following day.

) Ai’s enemies

The Seenoevils, a disorderly mob. In real life, they are the ones that pretend not to see the bullying, letting it happen and thus contribute to the damage being dealt to thee victim. And the form of the egg’s “traumas”, the Wonder Killer, which are the main cause who led the victims to their deaths. In the dream world, they do not attack Ai. But they can damage her, only for the effects to appear outside the dream.

Ai uses Kurumi’s pen as her first weapon, and Minami’s ribbon wand as the second.

Like Kurumi, after she was saved she also asked Ai to remember her before disappearing into dust.

) The teacher

Ai’s teacher seems really nice, going as far as to visit her and deliver the week’s print outs to their home. Ai must not be attending school for weeks..

We now know that Ai’s location is nearby their teacher’s home. Could he be the guy in the car then? We don’t have enough evidence of that as of yet.

In the second episode, Ai’s teacher visited again.

Now we see his face. He’s got a mole huh.

But why this question teach? 

So that’s his name. And why the special treatment?

Here we see him walk behind Koito and she follows..

) Acca & Ura-Akka

The most intriguing thing I found in the first ep..

After discovering the truth about Kurumi, Ai was led to the end of the underground tunnel and found these two strange dolls playing Go, a japanese traditional board game. One looks like a professional, and the other just casual. They introduced themselves as Acca and Ura-Acca.

Judging by that definition, these two dolls could be the same person. Let’s watch out for that.. Who could this person be? And what is his connection to Ai?

“Haste makes waste.” These two are worried about Neiru. They strongly advise on taking the process slow or else she might die. Is this person a therapist?

) Neiru Aonuma

Did I read that right.. VICE PRESIDENT?? I get the feeling her sister died caused by neglect from their parents because they were more focused on this Neiru who “loves herself”. She also seems to me like a foreigner. She speaks english quite well and we see the mom with a nice cute afro.

She was too greedy to get multiple eggs at once. She could have fought through an intense battle. Probably why she was put in the intensive care unit. 

She also does not know the fun of being in a friendship. But then she agrees on being friends with AI :) I am glad how Ai is starting to change too.

I am looking forward for these two’s friendship <3

And that’s about all the curious things I’ve gathered in the first 2 episodes.

I am definitely going to continue watching this series and witness the truth unfold. Until the next egg time!

[feytouched]

You know pirating books and pirating a lot of other media is extremely different, right? Pirating books affects an author's future chances of getting anything published and making any sort of money directly. It's not at all the same as stealing a Disney movie; the animators etc have already gotten paid and the success of the movie doesn't affect them to nearly the same degree as stealing someone's novel does.

Just surprised that you, as a writer, would support that.

As a writer, I'd far prefer it for my work to be accessible to all, regardless of whether or not they can afford it.

Let me paint you a picture: I live on an island where there is one public library. It is more so a collection of tables where university students cram for finals than a place where you go to look for books to borrow; you could, in theory, do that, but the selection is extremely limited. Chances are that if you're looking for something in particular, you won't find it. Likewise, our few bookshops don't offer a lot beyond Portuguese books and translated bestsellers; if you'd rather read originals than translations or you want something less globally popular, tough luck.

I own a beat-up, secondhand Kindle that is more than 10 years old at this point. Assuming I want to give any of my money to Amazon (which I do not), were I to look for ebooks there, it's often impossible to find some of those I want to read (the 1960s translation of Sei Shonagon's Pillow Book comes to mind; even on Blackwell's, my online book retailer of choice, all I could find were 30€+ physical copies). Other times, the ebooks cost just as much, sometimes paradoxically even more than the paper book itself. If I were to cave and order the physical copy, it would take months and a significant shipping fee to reach me. Not to mention the sustainability issues surrounding shipping, paper production for books, etc., the lower accessibility of print when compared to ebooks for those who are ND/disabled, and the issue of shelving space in one's home.

With all these considerations in mind, I don't have any qualms downloading books written by big bestselling authors, or by those who are already dead; they do not notice or care. Moreover, there are authors to whom I do not want to give any of my money; I enjoy Carol Ann Duffy's poetry and anthologies generally, but she espouses rather TERFy ideals — so, in the spirit of separating the art from the author, I can critically read her other work, but I don't want to put my coins in her purse.

There are, of course, exceptions, for which I save up all my book budget; I try to put my money where it will make the most impact. Supporting small/independent bookshops, up-and-coming poets, buying self-published online works, art books or beautiful copies of my favourite stories: all of those have far more of an impact on actual writers' lives than if I were to spend all my budget on buying kindle ebooks. I read a lot — even assuming I buy all my ebooks for an average of $10 apiece, that amounts to a yearly budget that I, and many others, could not afford.

But to limit one's learning and reading to what one can afford is to keep the working class and the poor powerless to rise and educate themselves, to expand the horizons of their world. It is a system that perpetuates ignorance, and ignorance breeds prejudice, fear and hate — and make no mistake, there is a lot of vested interest in keeping it that way. (Tangentially related, but in academia this is also a rampant issue; even with the access granted by my university to a lot of journals, I would not have had access to two-thirds of my references without Sci-Hub, and would likely not have concluded either of my degrees for lack of access to information. It has become a fact of scientific research that you gotta pirate if you want to publish).

For that reason, should I ever be so lucky to publish my work, I would encourage any and all who can't or don't want to pay for it, for whatever reason (you need not explain yourself to me), to pirate it. Read it, talk about it, so long as it reaches you. I fully recognize the privilege in that, because I do not and probably never will derive my livelihood from my writing, but that's precisely why I choose to put my money towards the authors that need it most. And in the meantime, that is why I share my writing publicly and for free; you'll always be able to find copies of my work floating around on the internet. I will probably have put them out myself.

I hope this helped you consider why the issue is not as cut and dry as you might think. The choices each of us makes are meaningful, and the reasoning behind them more nuanced than it would seem at first blush.

[theleakypen]

tagged by @peridot-tears

Doing this a solid year late but LET’S DO THIS:

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your favourite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020 2021. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

My Brother, My Enemy - gifset from NHS’s POV wrt JGY, using lyrics from the song by the same name from the Norse mythology album Sundown: Whispers of Ragnarok. I’m super proud of this despite that I did not do anything particularly fancy with the gifs and did everything in GIF Brewery 3.

that needle’s artistry may embrace - Wen Qing/Jiang Yanli needle play fic set in my kinky Big Sibs OT4 modern AU-verse. Featuring chronically ill Jiang Yanli and my “tops deserve aftercare and reassurance too” agenda.

Confluence - my story for the forthcoming anthology from Duck Prints Press, Add Magic To Taste. Featuring me doing my favorite thing ever and SMOOSHING two completely unrelated mythologies together and seeing what comes out as a result. wlw rusalka/huli-jing pre-relationship fun times! It’s not out just yet, but you can bet once the ebook is available for purchase to non-kickstarter-backers I’m going to plug the hell out of it everywhere.

as you all know, my name is cow - ok this one is kind of silly, but i’ve struggled to write a villanelle for YEARS; it’s the poetry format i find most difficult, so writing a.... reverse bredlik? kinda? in villanelle form is actually something i’m inordinately proud of :3

I will tag (but no pressure! only if you want to!): @iamwestiec, @unforth, @bladedweaponsandswishycoats, @zylaa

[crazytwentythrees]

GUESS WHO'S PLANNING ON A REVISED EDITION OF MY ANTHOLOGY, EVERY WHY HAS A WHEREOF?!?!?!?

That's right, I AM!! I am also definitely not unable to figure out how to keep writing BLS, but dw I do want to finish writing because the book means a lot to me personally (but also, like I said when I went on hiatus, I want to give you guys a good book, not a half-assed version of it).

AnYwAy, back to the poetry. Here's some basic info about the revised edition:

Will it be the same poems? Definitely, the main stuffing is all the same, only with a couple of extra poems (bonus, yay!!) and some shorter ones I don't like (like 2-3 of them) will be removed.

Can I read the deleted poems? Of course! An unedited version of my anthology is free for you to read here on Wattpad.

What's the difference between the original and the new version? In short, the main difference will be the reformatting and severe editing (with the knowledge I didn't have when I first published it). Also, I'd like to make the book a little smaller. I'm not sure if many of you are aware of this, but Amazon's self-publishing platform only offers certain standard sizes for books, and well, my 6"x9" book is probably the smallest I can go. That being said, I am considering reaching out to Amazon Publishing and some other publishers to see if they can help with this "downsizing" of sorts. Realistically, I know printing a smaller book has a 50/50 chance of happening, but it's definitely something I'd like for the revised edition.

When will the revised edition be published? This depends on the "downsizing". I hope to get the edits done in the next month or so, but a good part of the reformatting process is dependent on whether or not I get to make the book a smaller size. If not, then you'll have a semi-brand-new 6"x9" poetry anthology for you to cart around and annotate to your heart's content!

Will it look the same? For now, I intend to keep the cover the same, BUT if I work out something I like (since I design my own covers), then I will definitely consider changing the cover. The font will be different for sure, same as a whole lot of other formattings in the original version (reformatting, yay!!). Another thing I've been brainstorming is GRAPHICS!!! If you've read the first few chapters of BLS on Wattpad, you'll know about the banners I made for POV changes. I want to try some stuff like that for sure, so you'll definitely be seeing some cool changes ;)

Why are you republishing/publishing a revised edition? Ooooh boy. So the story is, when I put together all these poems and published them with Amazon KDP (which is a self-publishing platform), I had very very very little experience with the writing world, much less the editing and publishing world. The anthology was sent in as a submission for Amazon's Pen to Publish program, which is how I found out I could self-publish in the first place. But the main thing is, I put together the entire thing, formatting and all (minus writing a majority of the poems, which I'd done in the few months before), in about a month. Long story short, it was the definition of a rush job. So now I'm nearly three years older, a little wiser (I hope), and I want to put in the time and work that I know my 13-year-old self deserved when she first started writing, and the knowledge that my 14-year-old self didn't have when she self-published.

I think that's about it, but if any of you have anything else to ask, my inbox is definitely open. I hope you'll all love this new edition (once I get it out for you to read) and I'd absolutely love it if you have any extra feedback from the original!!

[duckprintspress]

Hi, I'm a little confused about future anthologies and working on them, if we get accepted and write a piece for it, are we automatically on the list for future projects or do we reapply each time?

This is an excellent question, and to be honest - not one I have a full answer to yet. We’ve been very focused on doing one anthology, and making it the best we can, before we start extensively planning for the next.

With that in mind, my current thinking - which is far from set in stone - is that in future anthologies we’ll continue to aim for 20 writers, and we’ll designate (for example) up to ten of those “writing slots” to people who have worked with us previously, and ten to “new people” who haven’t previously worked with us. How we’d partition out slots to “people we already have a relationship with” will depend on how many of our “established” authors are interested, how many have decided to continue to work with us at all, and other factors I can’t predict - a lottery of the interested people would probably be the most fair way but I honestly can’t say for sure. It’s definitely a conversation the team is going to have to have when we start planning the next anthology (most likely sometime around early summer?).

However, it’s worth noting - long term we’re definitely not only doing anthologies. I have multiple original projects that the press is going to publish, and jhoom is going to list her novel Hockey Bois with us at some point, and I’ve spoken privately with several fanfiction authors in my circle of acquaintances who I know write original fiction and encouraged them to consider us if they’d rather work with a press than self-publish (and zero judgement or hard feelings at all if they chose not to work with us). In those instances, we’ve built on our existing relationships, but Duck Prints Press was never intended to be a “closed” press. We’re not a clique. I know a lot of people who write fiction but it’s only the smallest fraction of the hundreds of thousands of writers out there, and I want this press to be an option for everyone who is a fanfiction author and wants to make the move into publishing their original work. But...we don’t know those people. One of the primary purposes of our anthologies is to enable us at Duck Prints Press to build the kinds of relationships outside of our immediate circles that we already have with people we know. An anthology is a great opportunity for us to determine if we work well with an author, and for an author to determine if they want to work with us. Even with the best of intentions, we may just not be a good fit for each other, and that’s okay. But if we are a good fit? Once this reciprocity is established, any author with whom we’ve had a positive experience who feels the same about us will be welcome to - indeed, encouraged to - approach us about literally any project they’d like to put into publication.

That short story idea you’ve been nursing? Let’s talk about it.

That long fic you want to scrub the barcodes off of and repurpose? Lay it on us.

That drabble idea you can’t let go of? We’re listening to all 100 words of it.

That poetry collection you’ve dreamed of putting together since you were an emo 15 year old? Bring on the teenage angst.

That PWP erotica kink story you can’t stop thinking about? We are so here for it.

That dead dove that’s so dark you’re worried about posting it to AO3? Tell us everything.

That collection of grandma’s recipes that you always thought should be published? It’s outside our norm but we’ll figure it out.

That non-fiction biography of your favorite queer person of the past? We’ll have to up our insurance policy and hire a fact checker but we’re absolutely open to the possibility.

That children’s book you’ve had in mind that you wish was available when you were a kid? Come on, let’s go try to find an artist for you to collaborate with.

This is what we mean we say we’re a multi-genre publisher. Once we have a relationship with an author, even they’re not in every anthology, we want to publish what you want to write.

So - if you’re in the first anthology, and you’d like to be in future anthologies - that’s wonderful and we’d love to have you, and we’ll definitely be public with how we’re handling accepting authors with whom we’ve previously worked once we’ve hammered out the details. But in the meantime, even if we do decide “no one gets a bye, everyone has to reapply as if they’re new” - heck, even if we decide, “anthologies are only for new people we haven’t worked with, no reapplication allowed” (I really don’t think we’ll decide that though I could see us doing it with SOME specific projects - having one anthology be “the new authors debut!” anthology, for example) - once we have a relationship, we have a relationship, and we are here to talk about any and all original projects.

I know this is probably a bit more involved than your original question required, but I thought it important to make it clear that being in one of our anthologies will open more doors than just “access to the next anthology.” Hope this helps, and sorry if it’s waaaaay more information than you were looking for.

[razorsadness]

this is only the beginning

So. I’m 40, as of the last day of 2021. And it feels okay. I was having all kinds of sad feelings leading up to it, but then it happened, and it was fine. I had a great birthday (we stayed at my parents’ place in Door County just like we did in 2020). And things were pretty good for the first week and a half of 2022. 

Opportunities and ideas poured in, over the first week and a half of the year, including:

—I get to write a review of a novel I just read, and interview the author of said novel (who, by the way, is one of my all-time favorite writers) for the website of another of my favorite writers; and, alongside the interview/review, one of my short memoir/fiction hybrid pieces is going to be published (because it was inspired by said novel). —The novel I’ve been working on on-and-off for, uh, eight years has finally clicked into place. It’s sorta On The Road, except if it was written by Kathy Acker, but there’s a lot more to it than that. (That blackout poetry I’ve been posting on my main blog is also part of the novel.) —I found out that this thing I submitted a few poems to nearly two years ago is finally moving forward, and that they chose one of my poems to be part of it—it being, one of my poems (along with work from a few other poets) is being set to music, by a legit composer, and the works will then be performed at UW-Parkside by the Racine Concert Band. Holy shit, right?! —I got asked to record another spoken word album for Hello America this year; that will probably be coming out in the fall. —A micro-press I dig said they’d like to publish a short chapbook by me, sometime in the summer or fall. —A poetry project I’ve been working on for a few years (my Rimbaud translations/responses) coalesced with some other, newer stuff I’ve been writing, and excerpts from that will probably end up being my chapbook for said micro-press. —I’m working on Bone & Ink Press stuff. I’m finally moving forward with the new wave anthology, and that’s exciting. —I’m doing a revised and expanded edition of WWTAWWTAP, with new artwork, too, and this one will actually be available in print form as well as digital. —I’ve decided to restart my Patreon. I need the income, but more than that, I think I now know how to do it in a way that’s sustainable for me but still worth it for my patrons. —Since TLSOE is no longer in print, and we’re coming up on the two-year anniversary of its publication date, I’ve been thinking of other stuff to do with the material. Over the past few years, I’ve gotten into making short films based on my poetry, so I’ve decided I’m going to make a short film (though a bit longer than my previous shorts; this one may be 30 minutes-ish) based on excerpts from TLSOE.

I’m kinda broke right now, but not too bad. I recently got some royalties from my album and the last chunk of the payment from my tenure as writer-in-residence, which was enough to pay off some debt I had and still have a little bit left over. Plus, being broke now means something different than it did in my younger days. Broke now is like: I can’t afford any luxuries at the moment, but I can still pay my bills. Back in the day, broke meant “I’m living on ramen noodles and malt liquor and constantly on the verge of eviction.”

I’ve canceled all my/my family’s streaming subscriptions. I started with Spotify, but I’ve also since canceled Netflix, et. al. I’m trying to finish watching the newest season of Queer Eye before my Netflix subscription actually expires, but other than that I won’t miss it too much. It actually feels kinda freeing to untie myself from all those things. For one, half the time those services didn’t have what we wanted to watch (or listen to) anyway. For two, I’d rather save some of the money that would have gone to those things and actually buy albums and films. And in the meantime, I’ll just check more CDs and DVDs out from the library.

I’ve basically quit smoking. I’m not going to say I’m 100% quit, because every time I say that, I end up relapsing, but I’m doing really really really well. I’ve got nicotine gum and CBD oil for when the physical cravings hit, tea tree oil and cinnamon toothpicks for when I need something in my mouth/to do with my hands, and when it’s about just needing that moment to myself (which it often is), I’m taking those moments to meditate, do a few yogic stretches, listen to a song, read or write a poem, something like that.

In bummer news: I’m currently waiting on CoViD test results. I started getting a sniffle on Tuesday evening; thought it was just my chronic allergy-sinus stuff. Wednesday, it was still there, and more constant. Thursday, when I woke up and it was still there plus I felt a bit fatigued/headachey, I decided to go get tested. Odds are I don’t have it—I’m triple vaxxed. I rarely go anywhere (and when I do I double-mask). The only people in my bubble are my partner, our kiddos, and my parents; five out of the six of us are now fully vaxxed and/or vaxxed + boosted (the only one not is C. because he’s too young to be eligible yet). My parents also rarely go anywhere (and when they do, they’re double-masked). The kiddos are homeschooling, P. no longer works as a bartender. Also, the symptoms of whatever I do have are extremely mild, and are pretty much gone as of today, and no one else in my house/bubble has any symptoms—and they all would have been exposed 5-6 days ago, now. What I think happened is that I was worn down from lack of sleep and stress and overdoing it, so my allergy-sinus stuff turned into a sinus infection (that’s happened before). But I still figured it was best to get tested, and my family and I are quarantined until I get my results.

If I do, god forbid, have it, I’m gonna be pissed. I have spent the past two years being so so so careful, to the point of giving up a lot of what is most important to me. Hell, I stopped seeing my friends before the country at large even went into the initial shutdown! Also, if I do have it, based on timeline/places I’ve gone, it means I caught it at either the library or the post office. Which would be both funny and stupid. Funny because, well, the library and post office are probably where I’ve spent the most hours of my life (outside of where I lived and/or worked) from the age of 12 on. Annoying because, man, if I knew I’d potentially get CoViD anyway, I’d have gone to a punk show or something fun!

Anyway. Fingers crossed I don’t have it. They said I should get my results in 1-3 days, so hopefully I find out tomorrow.

I’m on a semi-hiatus from Facebook. I check in a few times a week, but I’ve deleted the app from both my phone and tablet so I don’t start doom scrolling. See, some of my friends are getting way too doom-and-gloom. They’re all “collapse of society” this, “global climate collapse” that, sharing every horrific news article that comes along. And I just can’t immerse myself in that energy at this juncture. I’m not burying my head in the sand, or remaining neutral in situations of injustice, I’m not becoming some kind of CoViD denier or climate change denier or anything like that. But, as I’ve said before, I’m naturally prone to anxiety, depression, and existential dread. It is a daily fight for me to not completely succumb to them. I’ve started to learn, over the past few years, some ways to deal with those tendencies. There’s art and music, of course, and physical activity. There’s also the question I ask myself before I read any news article: “Can I do something, even something small, to deal with this problem in a constructive way right now?” If the answer is ‘no,’ I simply don’t read it until I’m in a headspace in which I can handle it, which is sometimes never. And there’s temporarily distancing myself from friends and acquaintances when they get too gloom-and-doom, or too bitter. I don’t expect people to be relentlessly positive all the time, but I also can’t subject myself to excessive negativity all the time. And I don’t know. A lot of my friends who are falling into that constant negativity and doom don’t have kids. And I feel like…having kids, I don’t have the luxury to let myself fall into total despair. No matter what’s happening, I’ve still gotta keep my kids safe and healthy, and it’s a lot harder to do that if I’m too depressed to get out of bed.

So I do what I can: I participate in letter-writing campaigns and phone banks for various causes, I help plan and cook community meals, I modify and mend my old clothes, I repurpose other old things for art projects, I plan what I will grow in my garden this year (and I teach myself more about sustainable gardening). I remind myself of that Tumblr post that was floating around a while back, about not thinking too much about the end of the world because there are dishes to wash and people to love. I remind myself of Brother Curtis Almquist saying: If you are anxious just now, you are almost already hopeful. And of Rebecca Solnit saying: To hope is to gamble. It’s to bet on the future, on your desires, on the possibility that an open heart and uncertainty is better than gloom and safety. And I remind myself of Richard Brautigan’s poem “Calendula:”

My friends worry and they tell me about it. They talk of the world ending of darkness and disaster. I always listen gently and then say: No, it’s not going to end. This is only the beginning, as this book is only a beginning.

[princepestilence]

NYR: September in review.

Post-September horoscope: *becomes everything I dreamed of when I was little and almost doesn’t notice*

Another big month, I say, every month, for the rest of my life, I guess! Overall good, though, if stressful at times. In September:

got my second shot! Fully vaccinated now, which is a relief. Hoping that means I can get a haircut sometime later this month, because I am very much in need of it with summer just around the corner. 

another publication! My short story was accepted to a print anthology coming out later this year, which is super exciting. I can’t wait to hold my work in my hands and be able to point to a physical book like, I’m in that!

work continues well enough. This month was stressful for work, for what turned out to be needless and dumb reasons (not my fault), but always learning and growing and all that. I’m finding my feet still, but I do like the idea of going to Wellington next year for half a week or so for free to run a conference, so there’s that to look forward to. 

have been reading. Finished a couple of books and have a few more I’m reading through this month.

finished the writing courses! It feels good to have those done and out in the world, and I’m very happy that my boss really likes them--since I wasn’t given a lot of guidance or, honestly, feedback throughout the process of designing, so I really had to just guess and use my best judgement on what they wanted. 

cool development? Said former boss asked if I’d be happy to be on the board of management for the writers centre, because she thinks I’d be a great voice on there, so naturally I said yes. She’s nominated me to the rest of the board for consideration, which is wild, because if I do get involved there, I’ll be her boss (at least in the sense that she executes the decisions of the board). What a kooky turn of events!

poetry stuff. I went to an online poetry event and have booked in for a workshop series next month, which should be interesting! Working on some stuff for submission this month coming.

got great health news! I’m so close to being 100% in the clear re: the kidney thing, given that the last round of tests came back great and the specialist is really pleased and impressed with the level of recovery. It’s a relief to know that I’m going to bounce back so well, and it’s not going to be an ongoing source of total bullshit. 

In October, I will:

finish + edit + submit poem. There’s another anthology looking to select thirty poems for print publication, submissions ending this month, so I’m gunning for that. I feel like it’s a wildly long shot, but you’ve got to be in it to win it and all that.

finish professional website. It’s made, I just haven’t actually filled any of it in yet. Aiming to do that in the next few weeks. Normally, I’d do stuff like that during lulls at work, but there hasn’t been as many lulls as I’d like recently. 

keep reading. I’ve picked out a few for Hallowe’en reading, but how much I actually get through will depend on how tired I am before bed. I’ve been passing the fuck out lately, which is good, but not ideal for reading purposes. 

run some spooky ttrpgs (online)? Normally, it’d be a game of Dread, but that’s no good over screens, so I’m thinking I might run some other little games for friends if I can find the time. It’s kind of been a tradition for me to run some kind of spooky game in October and it’s been ages since I’d done anything like this too (thanks lockdown) and I’m missing it a bit. 

treat (or trick?) myself to some nice things. I think I should include relaxation in here somewhere too, even though I might need a horse tranq to achieve it. 

end things with that guy. Already happened yesterday but suffice to say, not compatible. Still think he’s a nice lad and all but he’s not making great life decisions right now and I don’t need any of that. It’s actually really interesting--and great--to see who I am now compared to who I was like five or six years ago, because I have so much more confidence and respect for myself now and it shines through in all things. There was several years where I let myself be treated really poorly and didn’t think I deserved any better, whereas now I have absolutely no problem setting boundaries. Genuinely thrilled to see that growth in myself, and recognise everything wonderful that reflects about who I’ve become. 

[analogicisms]

Music & Poetry - Chapter One

Summary: Popular-but-not-really-famous lyricist Virgil Quinn meets an attractive poet named Logan who claims to hate music. Virgil, who believes lyrics to be every bit the poetry as the kind found in books and anthologies and inspirational posters, feels the need to prove to Logan wrong.

Ship: Analogical (with others in the background)

Rating & Warnings: PG 13.

Chapters: 1 - 2

AO3: Chapter One

Thanks to @romantichopelessly for betaing and to @sunshineandteddybears and @paperghastly for pre-reading.

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Chapter One

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♞ LOGAN ♞

Logan sighed as he checked his phone for the second time in two minutes. He was standing outside of the main hall of the university where he would be speaking on that day. Due to his need for extensive planning, however, he was nearly two hours early for when he was required to be there. 

 He considered checking in with the dean of the school but knew that many people felt inconvenienced by those who arrived more than an hour early. Typically, Logan didn’t care too much about inconveniencing others with early arrivals, but Thomas Sanders, the dean of the school, was not just some man who had invited him to speak at this year’s graduation. Thomas was also a very dear friend of his, and Logan would hate to add any undue anxiety onto the man’s already burdened shoulders. 

Sighing again, Logan considered the time once more before opening Google Maps and searching for nearby cafes. 

 Of course, Logan thought as his eyes took in the ten plus pins indicating Starbucks Coffee shops in the area. It was not that Logan was a coffee snob, though his best friend Roman would disagree, he was simply a man who knew what he liked, and Starbucks was awful in terms of taste compared to value. In his opinion, of course—although anyone who disagreed was an idiot.

 Scrolling down to the list, his gaze was caught by the third listing. The Bumble Bean. Logan hummed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the pun. It was, after all, better than the alternative. 

 He noted the letter corresponded with the shop before consulting the map. Clicking on the name of the cafe, it popped up on the map and Logan clicked its little pin. The shop’s information appeared in a little bubble, including the business hours and, more importantly, the distance from his current location. 

 A block and a half away. Not bad for a walk, especially considering the suit he wore. Decision made, Logan set down his messenger bag long enough to pull off the suit jacket. Lifting his bag from the ground, he draped his jacket over the bag and shouldered the strap once more. 

 A quick click of the directions link on Google Maps and he was on his way. 

     ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

 💀 VIRGIL 💀

 Virgil leaned back in the leather armchair he occupied, covering a yawn with his arm. 

 “Don’t start with that now, ViVi.” 

 Virgil grinned as he looked up at the barista who also happened to be his best friend. 

 “Sorry, Pat.” 

 Patton Hart was five foot four inches of adorable from the top of his curls to his white chucks with rainbow cat faces printed on the material. He also had the endearing habit of worrying for his friends. Especially Virgil. 

 “Late night again?” Patton asked, brows furrowing in concern behind oversized glasses with gold round frames. Virgil nodded. “Sleep is important, kiddo.” 

 Anyone who overheard the conversation would likely wonder why Patton—who easily looked younger than Virgil, though they were actually the same age—was calling him kiddo, but Virgil had come to accept that as just Patton being Patton. He was definitely a mom and dad friend.

 Virgil sighed. “Yeah.” He brought a hand to his eyes, closing them to rub at the lids before offering Patton a winning smile. “These lyrics won’t write themselves.” 

 Patton pursed his lips as he set Virgil’s black coffee down on a coaster. Once he’d straightened up, hands were fisted and rested on hips. Virgil tried his best to hold back a grin, but the other looked too adorable like that and so he failed. Miserably. 

 “It’s not funny, Virgil. One of these days, you’re gonna wish you’d listened to dear ol’ Patton.”

 “And when that day comes, I will gladly accept your ‘I told you so’. Unfortunately, I’m a night owl and my brain works best in the dead of night.” 

 Patton tutted but said nothing else on the matter. “Don’t forget, its drinks night tonight. Emile will be late but I should be able to close up a little early so I’ll be there at ten.” 

 Virgil nodded. “Alright. Honestly, though, I don’t know why I even go. Ever since you two started dating, I feel like such a third wheel. Are you sure you two just don’t want the time to yourself? You and I could always catch up later.”

 “Nonsense. Emile is as much your friend as he is mine, boyfriend or not. And, I don’t want to hear another word about it, mister.” 

 Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, mom.” 

 “Good. Now, drink your coffee before it gets cold.” He glanced up at the front and gave a start. “Oops, gotta get back to work. I’ll try to chat when the rush ends.” 

 Virgil waved him off. “Sure thing, buddy. Talk to you later.” 

 Watching Patton make his way behind the counter, Virgil let his gaze wander to take in the other patrons of the little cafe. A smile slipped onto his lips as he remembered the day three years ago when Patton rushed up to him before blurting out his idea for a bookstore coffee house. Virgil had never seen his best friend so excited about anything in his life, which was saying a lot considering Patton’s default setting was excited. 

 It had taken a lot of work and Virgil had put a lot of money into the place—an investment, he had told Patton when the other tried to refuse—but the struggle had paid off in the end. The Bumble Bean had quickly become one of the hot spots in town, especially for students at the local university and high schools. Virgil was proud of his friend and never missed a chance to tell him, either. 

 The gentle, light sound of the bell on the door sounded and Virgil idly glanced in that direction. 

 Oh. My. God. 

 A man who looked not much older than Virgil--but dressed in way nicer clothes than Virgil had ever owned--stepped inside and looked around before heading toward the counter. Virgil watched him as he made his way across the café, his eyes taking in the man's face as his own heated up considerably. 

 Gay panic is real.

 Virgil quickly looked away, busying himself with drinking his coffee. Unfortunately, due to his preoccupied brain, he had forgotten that coffee was generally very hot, and burned his tongue. 

 “Fuck.” He swore under his breath, tongue now numb and raw. Setting the cup down, Virgil glanced at the man from the corner of his eye. 

 I’m gay. I am so fucking gay.

 Virgil watched as the man stepped up to the counter after the last customer finished paying. He found himself wondering what kind of drink the man would order, mentally reminding himself to ask Patton later. Watching Patton help the man, Virgil guessed at what kind of job the man had. 

 A businessman… then again, those pants are fitted as fuck… lawyer, maybe? Or CEO of some Fortune 500… 

 Pursing his lips, Virgil shook his head. The man didn’t look like a slimy, two-timing, grubby-handed snake. It was possible he was dressed for a specific event. The suit aside, Virgil would guess a professor, or a scientist even. There was no way he would be able to guess correctly, he decided. No point trying. 

 Turning his attention to his coffee, Virgil was momentarily distracted by the sound of feedback coming from the front. A stage was set up on the opposite side of the entrance, a young guy around Virgil’s age if not younger moving the stool closer to the microphone already present. There was a guitar in his other hand and a smile slipped onto Virgil’s face. 

 Virgil Quinn was a college student at the local university but he was also a well-known lyricist. Well, well-known was a little generous considering most people weren’t really interested in lyricists so much as the band or artist themselves. Most lyricists were annoyed by that fact but not Virgil. He liked being famous without actually being famous. 

 Unlike the bands that sang his songs, Virgil could go where he liked, when he liked, with no concern for his safety or his privacy. Even on the rare occasion, a fan did care about the person who wrote the songs, his work was still appreciated and loved from afar. His pictures weren’t the ones being plastered online, on busses, on television ads, and so on. He had more Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube followers than the average person and he was relatively “known”, but definitely not enough that it made much difference to his daily life. 

 That was exactly how Virgil preferred it. 

 “Do you mind?”

 Virgil’s attention had been successfully distracted enough that he hadn’t noticed anyone come up. 

 “Mind?” Virgil’s indifferent attitude quickly turned shy and awkward as he turned to look at the person who asked the question. The gorgeous Mr. Maybe-A-Scientist.

 “I’d like to claim that chair over there but I’ll need to get past you to get there. If you don’t mind.”

 Virgil seized up before mentally reminding himself that this was just another guy. Another human being. He could play it cool. 

 Don’t blush. Don’t blush. Don’t blush. 

 Virgil glanced at the chair before looking back up at the man. He cleared his throat and stood up. 

 In the brief few seconds that past between them as Virgil stood so he could shift out of the man’s way, Virgil became certain of a handful of things. 

 First, the man with his dark gray, nearly black eyes could not be a CEO or lawyer. While his eyes held a certain level of cold, there was far too much feeling in them. Too much depth. Second, the man was at least a head shorter than him but there was no way Virgil would have known if he hadn’t stood up. The confidence the man held about him was absolutely admirable. Virgil would have been worried the man was arrogant or, worse, a narcissist but he seemed far too polite and formal. Instead of self-importance, it was an air of near indifference that radiated from him.

 “Thank you.”

 “Yeah. No sweat.”

 Virgil could have mentally kicked himself. No sweat? Seriously? This man was obviously a man that existed off of intellectual knowledge and discourse. The best he could come up with was no sweat?

 Virgil watched the other’s face, certain to see some sort of sign of dismissal but it never came. Instead, the man raised a brow and a second later, his lips quirked upwards. It was slight. So slight that Virgil wasn’t even certain he truly saw it. That was until the man spoke again. 

 “I still need to get by you, I’m afraid.” 

 Was that amusement Virgil heard laced ever so subtly throughout the carefully chosen words? Virgil glanced at where he stood and swore under his breath. He was an absolute idiot. One thing was certain, however, as Virgil finally moved out of the other’s way. There was a definite spark of amusement in the man’s eyes and voice when he glanced back to thank him, before moving on to the armchair just on the other side of the coffee table. 

 Virgil blushed, quickly sitting once more and trying his best to melt into the couch. Not possible, of course, but he had to give himself props for trying. Deciding he had done enough damage to their interaction, Virgil turned his attention back to the stage where the young man with the guitar was now engaging the patrons sat around the stage. 

 As the singer started playing and fading into his song, Virgil almost forgot about Mr. Sexy Scientist. No, who was he kidding. There was no way he could actually forget about him. Not with him being so damn attractive. Not with him being so damn close. But, his focus was preoccupied just enough to take his mind off the man, if only for the moment. 

 That was, until a sound escaped the man, pulling Virgil’s attention back to him once more. Why is he so good looking? Life hated him. That was all there was to it. Putting such a gorgeous, put together man at arms reach only for Virgil to not have any chance in hell with him. The sound that left the man, however, had Virgil’s curiosity piqued. It was definitely a scoff that he had heard come from the well dressed man. 

 “Not a fan of this kind of music?” Virgil asked, before he could think better of it. He took note that the other had pulled out a book and was presumably reading it. He didn’t even look up at Virgil when answered his question. 

 “Not a fan of music, actually.” 

 Virgil raised a brow. There was no way he had heard correctly. “Sorry, what now?”

 The man looked up this time, a wry sort of expression on his face. It was the look of someone who had had this conversation on more than one occasion and didn’t find it any more enjoyable than he had the first time. Virgil felt bad, but only a little. He was more curious and so offered an apologetic shrug, but continued to look at the man expectantly. 

 The man sighed, marking the page he had been reading with a finger and set the book in his lap. His eyes found Virgil’s and it was all he could do to not look away. Swallowing hard, Virgil waited to hear what the man was about to say. 

 “I’m just not a fan of any type of music. It’s just… not my thing. I guess, classical counts as music and I do enjoy that when I am writing but in the general view of what is music these days, I really can’t say any of it has my appreciation.”

 Virgil frowned. How sad to not like any music. The man looked ready to return to his book but Virgil found himself not wanting the conversation to end just yet. Grasping for something to talk about, he took note of what the man had said. 

 “Writing?”

 The man nodded. He continued to watch Virgil but was obviously not about to offer any further information without being prompted. 

 Just my luck. The most gorgeous man walks into my life and unwittingly challenges all my anxieties. 

 “What do you write?” 

 Maybe he was an author? 

 “I’m a poet.” Suddenly a hand was offered to him from across the coffee table. Virgil took it at the last minute, shaking it and trying hard not to focus on the fact that they were technically holding hands. Too soon, the man pulled his hand back. “Logan Wright. I don’t expect you’ve heard of me but you’ve most likely come across a few of my poems. They’ve been used in various media.”

 Virgil could only nod, unsure of what to say. A poet! Not only that but a poet who doesn't like music. As a lyricist, Virgil was of the belief that lyrics were poetry put to notes in order to make a song—to make music. 

 The man went back to his book and Virgil watched him for a few moments before letting his attention return to the performer. The guy was not the best singer ever but played the guitar like a boss. Still, Virgil could hear the potential and knew well that this man could have a musical career hands down as long as he kept at it. The biggest draw to a singer like this one was that the words could be felt with his voice. That was a quality that so many singers didn’t have but the very quality that proved Virgil’s belief. 

 He knew he shouldn’t care. He knew well that the likelihood of him ever seeing this man—Logan—again was slim to none. Yet, he couldn’t keep his attention from returning to the man. Every few glances, he would see the other wince or grimace. Virgil wanted to feel offended on the singer’s behalf but instead, he just felt pity for Logan. 

 The time soon came when Logan stood and asked by him once again. This time Virgil was quick to stand and smiled shyly. 

 “Hope you have a good day.”

 Wow, could I be any more lame?

 The man smiled, however, and nodded. “Likewise.” 

 Virgil then watched him as he headed out of the shop and back into the world. 

 A few seconds passed, Virgil wishing he had asked for his number or something. Not only that, but the knowledge that the man was missing out on something that was inspiration for millions of people… that just didn’t sit right with him. If only he could spend a few days with Logan… show him what he was missing out on. Prove to him that not all music was bad and so much of it told a story. 

 Fuck.

 Before he could talk himself out of it, Virgil rushed through the shop and out the door. He glanced in the direction the man had gone, his eyes falling on his retreating back. 

 “Logan!” he called out. The man stopped and turned, tilting his head in a cute manner. Virgil didn’t focus on that, instead starting toward him as the man started back, distance closing between them. 

 “Can I help you?”

 Virgil blushed, suddenly unsure of himself. Was what he was about to propose stupid? Whatever. He would never know until he tried. 

 “Give me a week.”

 Logan snorted. “I’m sorry, give you what?”

 Virgil blushed and rushed on. “I mean… in there. What you said about music? Give me a week to prove you wrong.”

 Logan blinked and slowly smirked. “And what makes you think I’ll even be here a week?”

 That stopped Virgil in his tracks. It never even occurred to him that the man was out of town. He felt himself frowning and was about to apologize when the man spoke up again. 

 “I mean, I will be, as it turns out, but it is intriguing for you to just assume so. Still, your proposal has me curious. I don’t know exactly how you plan to change my mind, but I do like experiments as much as the next scholar. I do have somewhere to be at the present, but if you give me your number, I will text you.”

 In the next moments, Virgil gave Logan his number and watched as he walked away. He had no idea how he had managed it, but now that was the least of his worries. 

 Virgil now had just under seven days to change the mind of a very hot, intelligent, and opinionated poet. 

 To say he had his work cut out for him was definitely an understatement.

    ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

Disclaimer:  The author does not own Sanders Sides or any of the characters found therein. They are also not affiliated with Thomas Sanders, Joan Stokes, or the Thomas Sanders team. Only the complete story as it is written is the property of the author and is not to be copied or reposted without express permission from the author.