#You think he sometimes rarely battles Pebble for treats

[buttermander]

THE UPDATE CAME AND HEAR ME OUT -THE CIRCUS TOONS ARE CIRCUS " ANIMALS "

You see this clearly references a 3 man thing yet we only know one of them , I have a genuine idea on what they could be based on the fact that Looey is based on an inanimate object resembling an animal, specifically a species seen in circuses during the 1900s. So what if the others are also toons based on inanimate objects that resemble animals often related to old circuses.

My current idea is that the other two circus toons are a sock puppet snake ( the one toon with no actual limbs, yet they do trapeze of all things ) and a stuffed animal that's either a lion or a tiger ( maybe a white tiger for style. Probably fitting as the voted on leader of the group by the other two). The troupe are literal circus animals but also objects a child could feasibly recognize, what do you think, could my idea be possibly accurate? Also if you want you could come up with good names for them, maybe references to actual famous circuses or performers from the 1900s. I'm curious to know what you guys would interpret the other two members of the troupe as until they officially get revealed.

[painfulbass]

☾ ˚⊹  ❛❛  GENERAL QUICK CROSSOVER GUIDE

So crossovers are usually difficult for a lot of people. So, because I tend to think about these things, I thought I would make this comprehensive list/guide to writing crossovers with me. This isn’t anything in concrete, but to get the ball rolling or to help make it easier for both sides to contribute to plotting. It can be hard when you don’t know the fandom.

FNF, or Friday Night Funkin’ is a rhythm based game around rap battles. The Protagonist (known as BF) is trying to prove himself and win over his Girlfriend’s (GF) Dad, and it spirals from there. Gameplay style, it is very similar to Dance Dance Revolution, and the music is a fast pasted dubstyle/chiptune soundtrack.

What a lot of people know FNF for, however is the Mods. Due to it being on Newgrounds, and the creators having it be open asset, many creators are able to make their own “weeks” for players to challenge their skills in. Ruv, and those within Mid Fight Masses, are one of those mods. You can find most of their lore scattered in the scenes of their week, or by going on their official FNF Wiki.

Now, what does this mean for crossovers? I put it under a read more, simply because this is going to be a lot. I’m going to explain crossover verses I have. How I make them, and how YOU could have your character be in the FNF verse quite easily. So go under the read more to continue reading.

☾ ˚⊹  ❛❛  RUV IN OTHER UNIVERSES

Here are some just ideas that I came up with. While not EVERY interaction will work with these, they are ideas. They’re meant to kick start ideas and inspirations. I do not consider these full verses until I’ve talked with the other mun to make sure that they are okay with it. These can easily be changed, and swapped out for different things. My main goal here is to try and keep Ruv down to his core elements while fitting into a new setting.

POKEMON- Ruv, along with Sarv run the church- which she has turned into a sanctuary and a Nursery. Much like in Canon, Sarv is supernatural, and Ruv as a run away criminal vowed his life for all eternity to protect her. With church’s going out however, the next next step would be a PokeNursery.           Ruv acts as protector of the Nursery from trainers and groups alike. He usually is seen sitting on the roof, throwing pebbles at kids or passerby’s who irk him in some way. You can always find his Onix, his Low-Key Toxtricity, and his Absol around him or the nursery at all times. He does still have his strength, speed, and other abilities. The “face” he has is also a mask- an attempt to hide his identity as the wanted criminal.

OWL HOUSE- Ruv was a wanted criminal for the longest time. His magic, due to where he was born was a lot less like those around him. He could fit into the covens, but anything he did reflected back on him. Living alone, and learning to just modify himself he became a wanted criminal with a bone breaking shout.            However all of those times soon came to a stop as he met the winged mistress he stays with now. Protecting her (though she is much more than capable of protecting himself) she runs one of the many sects in the area. It isn’t the best building, but it’s out of the way and he usually isn’t spotted. However, unfortunately his past comes back to haunt him. He has no choice, and begrudgingly assists the Guards to repay for his crimes.           Tied to Sarv through magical bonds, he has made it clear to those in charge and to her- should something come between his duty as a guard or her, he would chose her a million times over.

DUCKTALES- Ruv is the petrified remains of the guardian of St. Sarvente. Awoken as the earth was shifted off of it’s orbit and forced into something it’s not, the callous guard is in search of the one he calls Sarvente, whom he claims is the Ruler of Souls and the one he Vowed to Protect. He is, 100% made of stone.

TOONTOWN- Stickfigures aren’t uncommon drawings. One’s as complicated as he and Sarv though usually get a few eyes. Not only that, but video game characters are always treated differently in Toontown. Maybe it’s because of a developers history, or lack there of. The story of Ruvyzvat being a heartless killer however spreads like wild flower, and while he and Sarv will primarily stay at the church... sometimes curiosity becomes too much.

KINGDOM HEARTS- FNF is it’s own world. Keyblade turned into a microphone, Ruv & Sarv are some of the first that would be met. Despite their challenge, they are rather distanced from the troubles of the Darkness and Light and would be semi-good companions. 

THE BLACKOUT CLUB- Ruv is a 16. Any day will be the day that a voice will end up taking over, merging with his mind. That’s fine. Much like how Seed-The-Grudge would want, he’ll just get revenge.

HAZBIN HOTEL / HELLUVA BOSS- Ruv ironically enough is one of the few in Hell who does not make him dead. In fact, in some cases that can make him extremely rare. This crossover he IS able to accompany Sarvente into the Underworld, and follow her on her treks through it. While most assume he is a dead sinner, he usually just doesn’t answer. However something about being here and meeting those who reside within the land sets him off. He’s a tad more feral, and a tad more willing to go to the violent answer.

PORTAL- Violence core. What else is there to say? Alternatively, him being a test subject would be fascinating, especially if he was grabbed post-vow. The man is immortal, and therefore would have messed with the tests just by the fact that there is only way for him to die. Death isn’t the worst thing to happen to a man however, and he does still feel pain.

RWBY- Ruv has the ability to manipulate sound waves, specifically his own). Trained with great strength and and even greater speed, his form of combat is continuously dodging as he looks for a weak spot. Weapons of choice are shot gun snow boots, and his sickle that doubles as a short sword.

DOCTOR WHO- Sarv has the ability to create portals. While they are MEANT to be used to intergalactive travel, but instead parallel world travel that in of itself is monumental for a lot of DW plots. Ruv and Sarv can easily go from one universe to the next, however chose to stay in the church. Not to mention Ruv’s skills in target elimination and his abilities would make for some individuals to repurpose him into a weapon. While they have been approached by UNIT on several occasions, they always refuse. However, enough time has passed that they’re starting to notice that the couple in the church aren’t aging...

FNAF- RUVYZVAT and SARVENTE were creations of Fazbear Entertainments as karaoke machines... if we want to go the robot route. If we want to go the normal person route, Ruv was hired by Fazbear’s because it’s one of the few places that doesn’t do a background check, and when he said he wanted to wear a mask as part of the work outfit they were all for it. He runs the karaoke machine though. Stays away from quite literally everyone. While he isn’t the infamous killer of children here, he does have a reputation of his own that he is running from, and that does tend to make him silent.

BATIM- Criminal on the run stumbles into the wastelands formerly known as Bendy’s. Actually enjoys it at first because the cartoon was popular when he was a child. ALT. Stickman drawing of one of the artists come to life. Usually pretends to be Lost One, but when he’s alone with another (Sarvente) they turn into their stickman version selves. Has the ability to jump between 2 and 3 dimensions, but none of the strength or voice.

PSYCHONAUTS- Agent Ruvyzvat, Russian sector. Ruv is working for the Psychonauts in some weird, turning event. Mainly because the sole woman that he trusts and saved his life, Agent Sarvente brought him in. The two are inseparable, and despite Sasha and Nein being infamous for their clinginess, these two take it to a whole knew level. Ruve’s “loud voice” is actually a psychic ability he can use outside of the mind to jumble and confuse thoughts and has no damage on anything physically in the present.

GRAVITY FALLS- Sarvente is a Demon, much like Bill. Where sa Bill desires nothing but chaos and madness, Sarvente is trying her best to keep the world like it is and preserve it’s beauty. Seeing such beauty in a runaway criminal, she and he run to the forests of Oregon. Throughout Weirdmageddon, neither managed to be captured or turned to stone, however Ruv seemingly gained his incredible voice abilities. Now, they live in a semi-collapsed church out in the forest. Sarvente always asking those who come her way to join their church, Ruv is suspicious why such events would happen in such a small town, and is distrusting of most everyone he sees.

DETECTIVE CONAN / KAITOU KID / ANY ANIME OR SERIES LIKE THAT- VERY infamous criminal. Take his “Wanted Dead or Alive” that exists in all other verses, and ramp that up quite a bit. Usually wears a mask whenever he is committing a crime. He does seem to be in it for the fun, though it’s hard to tell with the stoic and expressionless looks. That being said, he does seem to have a very clear goal of what he wants. There are no patterns to where he hits, or what he takes. From wallets of people off the streets, to priceless artifacts. He’ll find where Sarvente went, and how they were able to change her mind in such a way.... how they could corrupt her.

MODERN / NON-EXTREMELY FANTASTICAL- Ruv is honestly a rather down to Earth individual, in some terms. He is untrusting of EVERYTHING, but also due to his own strengths finds little that fear or challenges him. Keep him mind he did make a deal with Lucifer (or his Lucifer) for Immortality for protecting her. While he will always be doing things on his own, a lot of his end goals and motives will come back to her. Without her involvement, he is a walking, talking, machine of destruction with no sway on which side he decides to tear apart.

☾ ˚⊹  ❛❛  GENERAL STOPPING POINTS FOR WANTING TO PLOT

DON’T KNOW THE WORLD YOU’RE FROM / YOU DON’T KNOW MY LORE. - That’s fine. I can get my hands dirty. I can research. In fact I usually would love nothing more to. I love learning about new fandoms, or new media to get into. You shouldn’t be afraid of that. As for mine- It should take someone less than an hour to get through all of the links I have posted in the RESOURCES tab in my bio. I’ve timed it. So if you have an hour to spare, or 15, or just enough time to read his wiki that’s fine. He’s not from a long running show, or anything like that. You can catch up extremely quick.

WELL WHAT ABOUT A BOOK/COMIC? HOW WOULD HE FIT IN?- If we are talking about Super Hero comics, then it depends. 90% of the time I will just play up his wanted status a lot more, and make it more of a reason for an interaction. You just ran into a man who has killed hundreds. If your muse is a super hero, or a vigilante? Would you let him go? What a villain? That might make a good partner.

TV SHOW? LIVE ACTION?- Again, it depends on the type of show. Superhero follows the same above. If it’s investigative, have him be a witness. Or a falsely accused man who can prove he isn’t the guilty party. Is it more supernatural- well he did make a deal with Lucifer and is an immortal now from it. There are a million ways to spin it. Don’t look at making him a big character. Quite honestly, side characters that you pass in the street have just as much backstory, and as long as there is a plausible chance of interactions then we can work it out from there.

☾ ˚⊹  ❛❛  GENERAL IDEAS TO BE AWARE OF THAT MIGHT HELP

HE IS A WANTED CRIMINAL.- Meaning his name Ruvyzvat is known. Despite his crimes going on for decades, he is on the run and never stopped. Several city, state, countries, and possibly nations are looking for him, and looking to take him in.

HE IS ALSO AN IMMORTAL.- While he hasn’t been around forever, and nearly not as long as Sarvente has been, he HAS been around for at least 100 years, give or take some. He can be injured, but even fatal injuries heal in an almost Deadpool like way.

HE ALSO HAS SUPERNATURAL POWERS.- His speed and reflexes alone is not something to be taken lightly. He does train and fight with Lucifer on what used to be a semi-regular basis. He has moved and adapted to be able to make sure no one but the singular person he trusts is able to lay a hand on him. That isn’t to say you can’t catch him off guard. You also have his inhuman strength to worry about, but most of all his voice. His voice which could completely demolish a building, and that isn’t the full strength. He has an amazing control over it, but that certainly isn’t a trait of his to ignore.

HE IS NOT ALWAYS IN THE CHURCH. I MADE SURE OF THAT WHEN I MADE MY BLOG.- He goes on walks, and he goes on errands. He also goes to the Gym on occasion, though not as often. He enjoys walks on the beach far earlier than anyone should be awake at. What I’m saying is running into him OUTSIDE of the church is possible. That being said, meeting him IN the church is your best bet for him warming up quicker. He feels safer in the church, and therefore usually wishes to stay there.

DOESN’T FIT THE STYLE OF CHARACTERS/WORLD? - If he doesn’t fit, then I can work to adapt him into something that WOULD fit. What characteristics about him doesn’t work. This is when I would need plotting help. If, lets say it was an all animal world, we can talk about what he is, his traits, and other such things. I am always happy to not use my icons- I just like to because I think they’re neat and I worked hard on them.

WHAT WOULD HE BE DOING?- Any number of things. He likes throwing pebbles at people. He mainly guards and protects Sarvente and her things, but I know we’re talking besides this. He cannot cook, but he does actually sew, and he does read quite a bit. Working on his fist to fist fighting would be a big one. He likes secluded areas, which especially work for explorer’s and people who walk off the beaten path.

IS THERE ANYWHERE HE COULDN’T BE?- He wouldn’t be at a bar. Ruv doesn’t drink, at all. I also don’t see him at any parties unless Sarv dragged him to them. Writing starters or plotting around those are perfectly fine, but do not expect his muse to be comfortable while he’s there.

HE SEEMS OVERPOWERED.- At times, he certainly can be, but only when he feels it’s necessary. He doesn’t flaunt his abilities, and most he has are out of self preservation. If you as a mun are worried about him and what he can do, the best thing you can do is read my information, look into his wiki, and then come and talk to me. Ruv isn’t someone who will 100% abuse what abilities he has, especially since now he is trying his best to be better for her since it makes her happy.

☾ ˚⊹  ❛❛  GENERAL IDEAS TO HAVE YOUR CHARACTERS IN HIS UNIVERSE

LOCATIONS?- The Church, the back alleys, the karaoke bar (that primarily does rap battles), the Alternate dimension that Sarv made so that he can be loud and not retrain his voice.

MOTIVATIONS?- If your muse is in the FNF world, then be ready for some sick beats to be dropped. Your muse could be rescuing someone from the BBEG and going through the slew of minions to sing against. There’s always the alternative side of this of “what the hell is going on?”

MY CHARACTER ISN’T FROM THERE, SO THEY WOULDN’T FIT IN.- Well I do have a “main” verse which replaces raps with fists. Looking for someone important to them, in the search of a deep and hidden artifact within the search, the rumors of a man born 100 years ago- theres a lot to be found in the library if you looked.

WHAT DOES THE FNF WORLD CONSIST OF?- It consists of Demon Daddies, Singing Skeletons and Pumpkins, Tankmen, a Demonic Lemon Demon, Sentient Video Game Characters, and if you take the mods in you also have Demon, Angels, Ghosts, Deadly Ex’s, Bomb Headed Men-- I promise your character will fit in at the end of the day.

ISN’T HE EXTREMELY AGGRESSIVE AND HARD TO TALK TO?- He can be. He talks in very short sentences, however I do my best to give my reply enough that you can reply to. Actions, and I chose to be very descriptive with his expressions in this case. Ruv spend many years alone, and sometimes with him, actions speak louder than words. When you or your muse figure that out is up to you.

WELL WE CAN’T DO AN ENTIRE THREAD IN A CHURCH.- I never said we had to. He is more than happy to leave the church should he want, and should there be a reason. Usually, (despite what it seems) he does like helping people, so you can lure him out that way ;)

[fallen029]

Dirt Poor

They were poor.

Dirt poor, is what Lisanna had heard someone whisper once about her family, one of the rare times that Papa took them all into town as a treat. He went frequently, to sell product, and the only other person that usually got to go with him was Mirajane, because she was the oldest and that meant she got to do things they didn't. Or at least that's what Mira always said.

But one day, Papa had taken them into town with him and told them that they could each pick out a pick out a piece of candy from the general store. It was while they were in there, her and her two siblings agonizing over their decision, when she heard someone from behind them say it.

"Look at 'em," a man muttered to the woman he was with. "Muddy and ragged. Must be from the village."

"Poor things," the woman whispered. "Dirt poor."

And that didn't make sense to Lisanna. At all. Which is why, with some confidence, she turned around to inform them, quite loudly, that they were not 'dirt poor'. Rather, they in fact had a bunch of dirt, back home.

Her mother was not pleased with her exclamation to the store at large that, no, see her, family was hardly dirt poor; if anything, they were stinking rich in it. She scolded her, on the long walk home as Lisanna sobbed and Mirajane, when their mother wasn't looking, patted her gently on the head while Elfman kicked a pebble and awkward twiddled his thumbs.

Papa though, always Papa, was the one who took her to the side, later that evening at home, and spoke to her in not nearly as harsh tones. Mama was always stressed and high-strung, carrying the weight of the world on her back, but Papa battled their challenges with a smile on his face and and insistence that it could always be worse.

But what could be worse, Lisanna wondered that evening as they laid out in the grass together while Mama and her siblings prepared a meal in their little shack, than being dirt poor?"

"A lot of things," he'd assured her. "And you were right anyways. Not that Mama's was wrong. You shouldn't be rude to others. And you have to respect adults. But we have something they don't have, in that town. That they'll never have. We have our land. We'll always have our land."

"Our dirt?"

"Our dirt," he agreed. "No one can ever take your dirt from you, Lisanna. And don't forget it."

Papa was easy to talk to and make see your point of view. That's why he was always the one that Lisanna (as well as her brother and sister) went to when they had something unreasonable to ask for. If Mira wasn't happy with the dress Mama sewed her, she knew to mention to Papa that it didn't fit right and have him butter Mama up. If Elfman had tore a hole in his shoes, as he was prone to do, he knew to tell Papa first, who could either patch it up or find someone in the village who would, without working Mama into a tizzy over it.

And Lisanna, little Lisanna, her wants and desires weren't quite so as her older siblings. Mira seemed to be much like Mama, worried and scared often about their meager earnings, while Elfman, from an early age, was aware of how he just didn't quite fit in with the other boys, spending far more time with his little sisters than the other kids in the village.

But Lisanna was different. She was the baby and was treated as such. It was s hock to her, as much as the definition of the term was, to discover that they were, in fact, very poor. She'd never known it. Everything that she ever wanted, ever knew to want, she had. She got any clothes Mirajane (and sometimes Elfman) outgrew and had all of their accumulated toys to play with. Papa never would let any of his three children stare and though they might be a bit scrawny, no one could say that the three Strauss siblings were underfed. Elf had to help Papa in the field and Mira did too, but when she wasn't, was very busy with Mama in the house.

Their younger sister though, she had...other things to keep her occupied.

From the time she was a babe, Lisanna loved animals. Dogs, cats, frogs, heck, she'd even been known to protect creepy-crawlies from facing the underside of a boot or two. Lisanna saw all living creatures as deserving the same love and shelter she'd always received. And while no one in her family felt otherwise, they all seemed to understand that, in their one room slapped together home, with limited water and food, they just couldn't accommodate this.

But Papa wouldn't let anyone tell her otherwise.

"We'll make it work," he'd insist to her mother when, after a day spent exploring alone in the forest, Lisanna would inevitably wander home with a stray animal or two. "We always do."

And they always did.

She had all sorts of pets and late nights, now distanced from those times, she liked to test her memory by trying to name them, in order of acquisition if she could. Kittens and puppies and even a pet snake or two.

She'd have them all.

She'd loved them all.

And then…

And then…

It was harder for her to recall now, how it all happened.

Mama died first. And Papa caught the illness from caring for her. It nearly wiped out their entire village. They were lucky, people always said, the three of them, to have not caught it, but Lisanna just couldn't see how.

Mirajane turned more and more like Mama. In a lot of ways. Mainly though, she got a...well… Lisanna didn't wanna say meaner, because Mama wasn't mean! But…

And Elfman fell in on himself, getting quieter and more unsure of his actions. He felt like a failure, maybe, because he wasn't the one taking charge, taking the lead, even though he was the brother, and he should be looking out for his two sisters, should he?

Isn't that what Papa would do?

As Mira worked hard at keeping them afloat, Lisanna was in for the harsh realities her other two siblings had long faced and now, without her father there to explain it all to her, she found herself in even more need of her animals. And the comfort they brought. The wonder.

The innocence.

But her father was the one that was right then. Just about as much as he was wrong.

It could always get worse.

And no, they wouldn't always have their land.

It all blurred now, nonsensically. When Mirajane…absorbed the demon.

She'd saved the village. The town. But in doing so, she sealed their fate and they had to leave the only home they'd known, with only what they could carry on their backs, and it was all for the better, of course, but in the immediate period following it…

"Lisanna," her sister snapped more than once, finally completely crushed by that weight that had always dangled just out of reach. "Enough about your animals. They were alone when they found you; now they'll just have to find someone else."

But it hurt. Leaving them. Leaving home. Leaving the place where their parents were buried and where they'd been born.

Leaving their land.

Their dirt.

Now, truly, they were dirt poor.

But they wouldn't be forever. Of course not. Because life had far bigger plans for them. It had to.

Didn't it?

Fairy Tail was...different than home. They had to work there too, very hard, to learn magic, earn respect, complete jobs.

But it was there that she found that fun again. In the struggle. That brought the grin of her father back to her face. She could play and have adventures again, now equally scaled into jobs, and found companionship with the other children, abandoned or orphaned, that Makarov found himself tending to.

It almost made the bad times fade completely. Almost. But they were still etched, frequently, in her older sister's face, and while Lisanna adjusted with ease to their new surroundings, she knew it would take her siblings a bit to shake the trauma of what they left behind.

She held it together better than the two of them. Perhaps because she was younger or maybe hadn't had the most responsibility with all that had gone on, but maybe...maybe she was just different. Than the two of them.

Maybe she was more like Papa.

There were sometimes though, late at night, when her stomach would hurt and she'd find herself getting upset over the past. Over things she hadn't been able to control. So much of her life, her childhood, up to that point had been out of her control..

But one night in particular, as she sat in a tiny hut built by her best friend Natsu Dragneel, while they attempted to keep the egg he'd found warm, she found herself really feeling low about something so stupid.

Not her parents.

Not her home village.

Not even the fact that her older sister was growing colder and her brother was, once more, struggling to adjust to his peers.

No.

As she and Natsu yawned through trying to warm the egg, she found herself feeling crummy about something else entirely.

"I had a lotta pets," she admitted to him softly. "Back home. Cats and dogs and snakes and… I just think about how much they missed me. I wasn't a very good mama to them, leaving them behind."

Natsu, at the moment, was trying to stile a yawn, but did glance over at her with a bit of a frown.

"You didn't wanna leave," the little boy reminded her. "Just like Igneel didn't want to leave me. Sometimes people get separated. It's no one's fault."

She nodded some before sighing, "Still..."

For a moment, the boy stared at her in a way he usually wasn't able to. There was a bit of concern in his gaze, if not empathy. He didn't know these thoughts well, having been raised by a rough and tough dragon, but the more time he spent hanging around the guildhall, with these new kids and these new ideologies, he was discovering just how much he...cared. About things.

"You're the mommy, right? That's what you said? About this egg?" Reaching out to pat at it, he gave her a toothy grin as he insisted, "You're gonna take good care of him, aren't you? Whatever's in here? And every single animal that you left back at your home will understand that. They'd get it. You had to leave to come here, to help me take care of this egg. And I bet you're going to do a really good job at it."

For a moment, she only stared at the young slayer before they both giggled, Lisanna with a grin and Natsu with a hand tossed behind his pink locks and as they fell to the ground, eventually, exhausted for their tiring day of caring for the egg, Lisanna reached out to gently pat at the ground beneath them. Feel the warmth. The dirt.

And as she drifted off, she tried to remember all of the different animals that had become before the one in the egg currently, the ones that she'd loved so much, but had to leave behind, just to be here. In that moment.

It was with a smile on her lips, at the very last one, all named in order and full, that Lisanna was able to fall asleep.

[beccarooni]

A Rock and a Hard Place

(A.N: The Korg & Thor friendship fic you never knew you needed. Tag list: @damm-darcy, @we-stan-bruce-ban, @lunaseleneyueiahchandramoon9696) 

“So, I think I figured it out.” 

The sofa creaked as Korg sat down, wooden frame protesting loudly to the solid ton of rock and hawaiian-print fabric that had plonked itself down next to him. 

The first few days, it had been difficult living with his chosen flatmates. It wasn’t that they weren’t nice, far from it, in fact. Korg was one of the most genuinely polite people he’d ever met, and that baffled him - it was all too rare to begin a friendship with someone these days that didn’t start in a near-murder. 

And Miek was...well, Miek was a slug with knives for hands but he still managed to be weirdly courteous, always chirping brightly when someone or other walked into the room. 

But, seeing them, anyone from Sakaar really was like a daily blaring alarm that those events had happened. Thor could drown out the burning flames of Asgard’s foundations with as much alcohol as he could get his hands on - but it was remarkably difficult to drown out someone who’d been there with him. 

So he’d chosen his own way of blocking out the world, for the first few days, at least. Had barely left his room, hadn’t so much as drawn back the curtains for fear of what lay outside. A fishing town, and the few survivors of his people mingling with the locals. 

A sight that should’ve been one of hope. Of new beginnings, fresh starts and whatever whatever whatever. 

And partially, it was. He was proud of them for adapting, until the reasoning snuck up on him as to why they were adapting. Why their way of life had been ripped from them, why they’d had to start anew. 

Seeing an Asgardian in a polo-neck jumper was funny, until you remembered that that was because their old clothes had burned in the fires of Asgard. 

It had taken a week for him to get used to it all. And even then, leaving his house before nightfall was a no-go. But Korg, he could get used to. 

And so when he sat down, the gentle lilt of his voice breaking through whatever haze Thor had managed to push himself into, he could offer him a small nod in greeting.

“Figured what out?”

Korg glanced briefly towards the TV Thor was supposedly watching, lacing his fingers together in an almost nervous manner. 

Korg was nervous. That was new. 

“Why you keep me and Miek around. Or, y’know - why you asked to room with us. Instead of Brunn.”

Thor frowned, lifting the bottle back up to his lips. 

“I roomed with you two because I like you. Do you not think that I like you?” 

“No, no, man. It’s not that. We know you like us - and hey, we like you too, so that’s all good there.” Korg paused, a few stray pebbles crumbling to the floor as the giant pushed his expression into something Thor hadn’t really noticed in him before - worry. 

Korg was famously optimistic. Infamously, would be a better word for it. From what few Sakaarians he’d managed to talk to back on the Statesman, he’d just always been like that. Always seen things from a brighter point of view, always trying just that little harder to make things better - even if trying was just a kind word, here and there. 

It put him in Thor’s good books, at least. A giant with the descriptive talent of Asgard’s finest bards was a good friend to have when you were with people that were low on morale. Korg had been kind enough to tell stories each night, to those that wanted to hear them. 

Thor had never expected to see Asgardians smiling again, and yet, there they were. On a dingy spaceship with dwindling supplies, laughing at a story told by a Koronan. 

Said Koronan coughed to grab his attention, and he involuntarily tensed at the feeling of cold stone fingers lightly brushing his shoulder. 

“It’s just that, I think you think we don’t know you well enough to ask questions. Like Brunn would - y’know, the whole ‘are you ok’ and ‘have you drank water today’ and all that kinda stuff. And I just feel like you should know that we do care, Miek and me.” 

Thor’s brow furrowed in confusion as he tried to piece together what was being said to him. 

“I...I met all of you on the same day, Korg. I know you just as much as I know her.”

“No, it’s different - I’m not explaining this right, sorry. It’s just...it’s like this,” 

Korg moved forward a touch, directly into Thor’s eyeline, so he couldn’t look away. 

Which made Thor nervous, because why would he want to look away? What was Korg planning to say that was so important Thor had to look at him? 

“You and Brunn are from the same place, right? And even if you don’t know each other on a more personal level, you still know each other - like, when you say something and she looks at you and she gets it - like that sort of know,”

Okay, so far he was following.

And Korg wasn’t wrong, exactly. Thor and Brunnhilde had a...something. They had a something. He wasn’t sure he could call it a friendship. 

Maybe it had been, once. Maybe it could’ve been something more. 

But he figured he’d blown that chance by spending a month not talking to her. Or anyone. And Norns, what a waste. 

Fighting side by side with her, facing down Hela, it had felt..right. Noble, even. Like for a moment, for this one part in the worst week of his life, he’d felt like Thor again. Fighting alongside a noble warrior, a Valkyrie. 

It had been the first time in years that he felt his younger self would’ve been in awe of who he’d become. 

And now, Brunnhilde was leading the Asgardians. While he languished in a cell of his own making. 

 Korg continued carefully, piecing each word together like it was a delicate pattern being woven together on a loom. 

“But Miek and me, we’re just sort of your buddies. And that’s fine, I like being your buddy. You’re a cool guy, y’know? But it’s a more surface level thing. Like we’ll just play this game and eat pizza and only talk about the weather or something.” 

Thor sighed, setting down his bottle to try and gauge more of a reaction out of those features of stone

“I’m not following. You think that I chose to stay with you two because I don’t know you?”

“I think you chose us because you think we won’t ask how you’re doing - because we don’t know you well enough. And that’s just...that’s not true, man. Miek can’t really ask - ‘cause he’s not really got a mouth - but he can listen. And I can do the asking.” 

Ah. 

So that was it. That was what had gotten Korg so worked up that he’d heard him pacing the floorboards moments before he’d joined him on the sofa.

Korg - like everyone else, it seemed - was worried. About him. 

Half of the universe had died, and Korg was worried about him.

He didn’t know why it filled him with a feeling of something volatile, and that just made things worse. 

It had been so long since someone had worried about him. Hadn’t he spent the better half of his childhood wondering if Odin had ever spared a passing thought of concern for him? When he’d scraped a knee on the playing grounds, or been struck with a sword during a battle, hadn’t he sat up in the healing wing of Asgard wondering why people just seemed to assume he was fine with it all? 

Hadn’t he wanted this? A secret, shameful thing - a craving, to just be treated not as a golden prince, not as an avenger, but just someone? 

And now that it was happening, all he could think of was that this was wrong. He shouldn’t be pitied. Shouldn’t be cared for. He should be out there, strong as the mountains, and yet he was stuck in here and he was afraid and tired and so, so angry. 

At Thanos. At himself. At the Norns for letting him survive this far. 

He stilled the storm inside with a clenched jaw, knocking back the rest of the beer and setting the bottle down just that bit too loudly. 

”I don’t need listening to, Korg. So what if I just want to hang out? Is that bad? Don’t I deserve to just hang out after everything I’ve been through?”

“No, no, this isn’t...that’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that we can hang out - play video games, order takeout, whatever. All of that. But I’m not just gonna not ask if you’re ok sometimes.”

And suddenly Korg was that much closer, and the cold stone was warm on his shoulder. And it was that much clearer why Korg was the leader of a revolution.

Because who else could it be, really? Who else could be kind enough to band together a group of gladiators, a ragtag gang of bandits and thieves and whoever’s from across the stars, and get them to fight for one common good? 

Pamphlets or no, Thor got the sense that one or two people had pledged their lives the second the words ‘Hi, my name’s Korg’ had reached their ears. 

He got the sense that he was going to be one of those people, by the end of this conversation. 

“I know you’re a big time hero, and you probably save people all the time, and tossing a gun to a gladiator might not be something that stuck in your memory - but it stuck in mine. You kinda kick-started the revolution that freed me. It’s sort of the reason that I can walk up to people and say: hey, my name’s Korg, and not whatever name they gave me back on Sakaar,” 

Korg sighed, a strange sound, like the scattering of pebbles across a lake, and let go of Thor’s shoulders with a small shake of his head.  

“You do that sort of thing and you’ve got a friend, friend.” 

Thor’s throat felt uncomfortably tight all of a sudden, and it was pretty much all he could do not to cry then and there. Instead, he reached out with one hand, doing his level best to clasp Korg’s shoulder - although it was a little painful on the fingers. 

“Thank you. I don’t...I don’t really know what to say.”

Korg grinned back at him, the tension in his shoulders falling - and the sofa creaking further as he relaxed back into it. 

“You don’t have to say anything, buddy. I’m not gonna pry about your past life too much - ‘cause it’s, y’know, personal - but I’m gonna at least ask about your present. The stuff I’m here for.” 

Thor sniffed, quickly wiping at the sides of his eyes with a soft chuckle. 

“That was weirdly profound.”

“Hey, thanks man.” 

Korg glanced around, large fingers fumbling for a controller as the screen in front of them flickered to life. 

“You wanna play some Fornite?” 

Thor shrugged, reaching for a second controller, the weight of it oddly reassuring in his hands. 

“Sure.”

[sobdasha]

katia asked: drabble: Akito and Shigure and “Wanna bet?”

me, constantly: “I’m so done with Shigure’s shit and I hate that my being so done with his shit means I keep talking about him on my tumblr and when I think about AkiGure I think about that bonus comic where Takaya says ‘...are you sure you’re really happy with Shigure, Akki? Sometimes, I feel a bit bad--’“

me, today apparently: “well shit I guess I wrote AkiGure sap??????”

–

"You know," Shigure says, very casually slipping a bookmark into the pages of his novel before he pokes the bear, "I think it's high time you took Shiki on a play date."

With Rio and Chizuru and, therefore, Ayame and Saki. "Hah," says Akito. "I don't do play dates."

Akito is the head of the family. Play dates are not her job. That is a perk, and honestly she ought to be getting more perks.

"The weather's nice lately." Shigure flips a page, settles his bookmark in again. "It's still cool, for now. And Shiki's small, but he's not going to stay small for much longer. You'll regret missing out one day."

He slides that last one in like a needle, and Akito stiffens. She's not Tohru, sure, but no one besides Tohru is Tohru. Akito's not a negligent mother. She spends plenty of time with her son at home, where Ayame and Saki are decidedly less present. They have meals together as a family more often than not. There are bedtime stories, there are weird children's TV shows. There aren't really any family game nights because both of Shiki's parents are terrible losers and even worse winners, but it's a good thing they know this about themselves!

"My job is important," Akito says. "Something only I can do. Your job is to handle the play dates so I don't have to waste my time."

Shigure chuckles. "Oh, really?"

Akito grabs his book and slaps it down on the futon, but she doesn't actually throw it and the bookmark was nestled firmly into the spine so Shigure won't have to hunt down his place again. Nice.

"I love Shiki!" she hisses. "And I spend all my time trying to manage and deal with this clusterfuck of a family because I love Shiki! I'm trying to keep him from getting screwed over the way all the rest of us were!"

"I know that," Shigure chuckles again. Smoothing her hair back out of her face with his now-free hand. "What I meant was, wanna bet?"

At her look, he elaborates, "Would it really be that much of a waste? Do you want to bet? And don't tell me you can't leave the running of the family to someone else for a few days; you have plenty of people here who are more than happy to support you. Let's see, there's Kazuma, and Momiji's getting quite a bit of clout these days, and Yuki isn't entirely useless…"

Shigure feigns a look of surprise, putting a hand to his mouth in that way that always makes Akito want to punch him. She refrains, though. "Oh! And there's also your husband who loves you and loves yanking strings and seeing that this whole damn family gets what's coming to it, namely, being dragged kicking and screaming into a change for the better! And what do you know, he's actually your assistant and knows how to do all of these important paperwork things! Maybe you should let him assist!"

He's not exactly wrong. Akito hates that, so she just crosses her arms and scowls at the blankets.

"I still think we should make it a bet, just to make it interesting," Shigure says. He picks up his book and lays it aside, then shifts under the covers invitingly. "And so we know whether or not you're right. Let's switch jobs for a few days, and each day we'll exchange the most valuable thing we gained. Sound fair?"

It sounds like a trap. It sounds like a very reasonable trap. Shigure's going to come out of this looking like a wise, mature adult, and Akito's going to come out of this looking like a stupid spoiled child, and it's a trap.

But he looks right into her eyes, and smiles at her, and Akito's always been so gullible so she just snuggles up next to him anyway.

–

Apparently, the Mosca family watches cooking competition shows together.

Akito, sitting on the very edge of the park bench, as far as possible from Saki and Ayame without provoking them to hunt her down, misses the whole explanation about today's cooking challenge. She misses the assembly of ingredients, the drama of the kitchen, the flurry of Rio and Chizuru and Shiki putting together their dishes. She misses the explanation Rio gives of what he's concocted and why it's best and deserves to win.

What Akito is unable to miss, unfortunately, is the portion of muddy sand and small pebbles and bits of stick and leaf and grass and what is that even that Rio hands "Judge Auntie Aa-chan" to appraise.

Further down the bench, Rio's mother and Ayame are gushing in praise of the dish's plating, its piquant aroma, the dedication of the chef, the inclusion of actual vegetable matter, and overflowing with gratitude to be able to take part in this rare delicacy.

Akito, mother of the year, says automatically as Rio finagles the plastic dish into her hands: "This looks disgusting."

Rio leans up to her, deadly serious, and whispers near her face, "It is."

Akito is never going to understand children in her entire life.

–

"Here," Akito says, shoving the cheap plastic dish at Shigure. Rio let her borrow it on the condition she'd wash it and bring it back tomorrow. She also got him to explain exactly what exotic foreign dish he'd made, although she didn't really understand and she definitely mangles it now as she tells Shigure just what a fricken priceless treat he's in for. "So I saved you some."

"This certainly doesn't look like something you could get at any old restaurant. A very exclusive dish. Please pass my compliments on to the chef," Shigure says. He reaches down and ruffles Shiki's hair, precisely because Shiki doesn't like that and wrinkles up his nose and squints at his father whenever it happens. "What about you, kiddo? What'd you make?"

"Sand," says Shiki. "It was yucky."

"Well," Shigure says. "I suppose this one-of-a-kind treat is your half of the bet, am I right? Then it's time for me to give you what I earned today."

Akito's feeling pretty confident about this, despite her misgivings. She went on the play date, watched her son dig around in the park, subjected herself to Ayame and Saki's attentions, and all she's got to show for it is a handful of nasty organic things in a cheap toy bowl. Shigure's absolutely dealt with a lot more valuable things today.

And then Shigure leans in and kisses Akito's cheek.

–

Akito forgets to slide down to the end of the park bench, as absorbed as she is in googling on her phone "how to tell if your husband is cheating on you with the maids." And, upon further thought, "how to tell if your husband isn't really cheating on you but the maids are flirting with him because you married one hot bastard."

"Oh my, Aa-chan!" Ayame says, leaning up against her shoulder and reading her phone screen, although says is a misleading verb because Ayame never simply says anything, he always declaims it in a very loud and carrying voice. "What's this, what's this? What can this be?"

"Your wife asked me to google it for her," Akito says without looking up or missing a beat, and Ayame laughs.

"I admire your brilliant and quick sense of humor! I'm sure you and Gure-san must always have such wonderful battles of wit! But," he adds, gently pushing her hands down to her lap, "I think you needn't fear on that front. I know my dear Gure-san like I know my own heart, and he only has eyes for you."

Akito makes a noise that is part not-actually-agreeing with Ayame, and part trying to appease him to make him go away, and part objecting to the fact that the edges of her personal space bubble are now apparently inside Ayame's body.

It's not exactly that Akito doesn't trust her husband. It's more that Shigure is an asshole, and Akito knows this because she's also an asshole, and she doesn't trust anyone and that includes herself. And it takes much less brain engagement to skim through the trash her google search is giving her than to actually consider who gave Shigure the kiss he "won."

She's not fretting about who her husband might be doing what with, she's...she's marveling at the depths of the stupidity of the internet.

"Auntie Aa-chan?" Chizuru says. Akito raises her head and looks at him. Turns off her phone screen when he pointedly looks down at it until she gives him her complete attention.

Chizuru shoves a fist at her. "This is a dinosaur fossil," he announces, opening his hand to show the small rock cupped in this palm. As far as Akito can tell, it's just your usual playground rock, a bit ridged but still boring.

Shigure would have enthused over it, eagerly discussed with Chizuru what type of dinosaur it might belong to, praised Chizuru for his skill and sharp eye. Put his novelist talent and wild imagination to good work.

"Uh-huh," Akito says.

Chizuru pushes the rock at her again. "It should go in a museum. But you can have it. For when I'm a famous--" there's a long string of syllables here that Akito can neither parse nor reproduce, but from the context she later realizes it's paleontologist "--and I dig up a lot of dinosaurs and I'm rich and I'm even more famous than my dad."

Ayame chuckles and says that he can't wait for that day, and he looks forward to seeing his son's picture all over TV, and Akito says: "Okay. Er. Thanks."

–

"This is for Shiki's college fund, apparently," Akito says, plopping the rock into Shigure's hand.

"That's one worry solved, then." Shigure crouches down and offers the rock up to Shiki. "Kiddo, any thoughts on where we should display our prize fossil?"

Shiki looks at it, hard, for a long moment, and then quietly takes the rock from his dad and wanders off, trying the rock out on various shelves.

Akito crosses her arms and glowers at the fridge. "Well?" she says. "That was my half of the bet. What valuable thing did you get today?"

"Weeeeeell," Shigure says, "I would have presented you with quite a small fortune in checks...but, I figured you'd rather I just do the bank run to deposit them myself and spare you the trip. So, you'll just have to content yourself with this."

And once again, he leans in and kisses Akito's cheek.

–

This park inconsiderately doesn't have any good weeds.

So Akito's having to make do with pinching a blade of grass between her nails and ripping it into tiny pieces, alternating between my husband is a stupid perv and my husband is not.

She loses her place when Saki lays a hand on her shoulder and says, "Aa-chan, your waves are very distressed today."

That is bullshit. The wave report is bullshit. Akito's waves are not distressed. Akito is a grown-ass woman, sitting hunched on a park bench, intently ripping the shit out of an innocent blade of grass while mumbling to herself.

Obviously she's not fine.

"It pains me to see you like this," Saki says, pressing a hand to her own chest. "And you're scaring the children."

Sure enough, when Akito looks up, there's Shiki across the playground watching her and biting his lip. She gives him a smile, although she's not sure how well it works. She's not good at the kind of stupid displays Shigure's always effortlessly spouting off. And Shiki might get his awkwardness all from Akito, but he's probably too young yet to get how alike they both are.

Saki says, "Do you know what I like to do to cheer myself up when I feel like this?"

–

Akito shoves the handful of receipts at Shigure, who laughs ruefully. "Oh, dear...the crepe stand opened up again, did they? And of course as head of the family it was your treat. Let me guess...these ones are all Saki's--I'll never figure out where that woman puts it all away--and these are Ayame's, and then there's one for each of the boys, and a second one for each of the boys after they all managed to drop theirs somehow…"

Apparently this is some sort of regular occurrence. Another reason Akito doesn't do play dates. This sort of crap is best left to Shigure.

"I hope yours tasted good, at least?" he says.

Not wondering who's been kissing her husband would have tasted better. Akito hadn't really felt like bothering with her own, so she'd shared with Shiki, and that was actually how they'd ended up dropping the first one. But it had been kind of nice, even with Ayame and Saki there chattering away incessantly in the background.

Akito shrugs.

Waits.

"Well, it is the last day of our bet," Shigure says at last. "I suppose I'd better pay up, so we can decide the winner of whose job is more valuable."

Akito shrugs again, and Shigure leans in, once more, to press that damn kiss on her cheek.

"You know, I really wouldn't call your efforts a waste of time," Shigure breezes on immediately. "You got treated to a gourmet meal the likes of which you'll never taste again, you've gained another museum-quality antiquity to add to our estate, and you shared good food under good sunshine with good friends--"

Akito, very reasonably and not-at-all jealously, grabs Shigure's collar and yanks at him as she demands over his stupid rambling, "Who gave you those kisses?"

Shigure blinks, and stares at her for a long moment. And then his face contorts with the effort of not smiling and laughing at her, which he fails to manage, and then he's snickering and taking her hands in his.

"Oh, you precious child," he chuckles. "Think, why don't you. Those were the kisses you gave me each morning before I went to start my duties."

Oh.

Oh.

Akito wriggles one of her fists out from under Shigure's hand so she can thump his chest with it.

"You cheated!" she hisses. "That doesn't count, you cheated! You made this like, like a stupid plot in one of your novels, just to teach me some stupid sappy lesson, and you cheated!"

Shigure tilts his head in a modest little nod, no shame at all. "Of course I cheated. Obviously I cheated. Honestly, I thought you'd catch me out on it. But I suppose in this regard I was, for once, wrong."

Ohh, that smug bastard. Akito hates him. Akito hates him so much. So much so that she burns with hate and definitely not anything else when he looks right into her eyes and smirks at her.

"I think we both win," he murmurs. "I think both of our jobs are very worthwhile, and together we make a very valuable family. And I treasure that. What about you?"

Akito doesn't give him an answer. She just tugs him down and kisses him on his stupid smug cheating bastard romance crap mouth.

(It was a trap all along. But she lets his arms close around her anyway.)

[productivelyfe]

Taylor Swift

Greatest hope is: As I grow/change, my music will change as well. I love a great song, I don’t care what genre it is in.

Have a lot of epiphanies- this would be a good idea so I had epiphany I’d be a novelist. Career path.

Writing-writer 1st. Favorite things how you can convey a thought or story or completely describe a character or situation through words/right combination of words. The whole process of editing/re editing/rethinking/imagining/get these little mini epiphany ideas that come to you. You have to love it more than anything else and you have to love it for more than what the end result could be. Like you don’t make an album so that you could get a platinum record to hang on your wall and you don’t go on tour so that you can hang the sold out plaques in your bedding. It’s so many little stepping stones/so many people have this idea that it’s like you get discovered/then you get the record deal/then you record the song/then the song goes #1 and then, you know, and it’s like, it’s never like that. Very rarely is it like one thing leads to another which leads to another/another and result. It’s so many dead ends/switching directors and going back/replanning/rethinking/so many interviews/strategy meetings/management meetings/PR meetings and so many things that are outside of music that you have to…

Shows - might be the same looking crowd but there’s a different feeling behind them all. There’s magical shows that stand out, where you were on point, we were all in it, looking back those magical shows are what make you want to continue doing what you’re doing for the rest of your life.

Record everything right away.

When you’re trying to fit in with everyone sometimes you learn who you are/who you’re not.

I always thought I’d go to college but somethings happened and I ended up getting to pursue this crazy dream.

Still get nervous? - Just focus on being alright/rolling with it and realizing you play shows every night/this should be no different.

Song writing - So unpredictable/spontaneous, what’s gonna hit me first. Whether it’s a general thought, experience, just got in my head. You were Romeo you were throwing pebbles/the song expanded from there. THe fastest songs I write just happen in just a surge of idea/inspiration. Something I’m going through at the time. Hard to come up with metaphors of something I haven’t gone through or recently just gone through. Starts as idea/feeling/emotion.

Metaphor - something you’re going through but relate/connect it to something completely different.

4 or 5 lines “ooo, oooh that’s the one, yes!” Before I put it on record. Writing process never turned off.

Making record - Here, allow this into your life takes about 2-2 ½ years of writing. That way, know have best songs. Have 40-50 songs about 14-15 make it.

Obsessed with the latest songs I’ve written, but discovering old stuff possibly being good enough to put on the albums.

Very impatient if I don’t have song finished. I’ll obsess over it, won’t sleep at night, edit constantly. Conversations around me get ignored. Working on an idea but stop and can’t figure out where chorus is going if my hunch is right-bring it to writer I trust/admire. Best co/writers really great at giving advice.

Adapt to a million different places to write. Awakened by song ideas all the time. Wake up at 0400 with idea. Write wherever/whenever you can. Writing a story/characters/you can only write about a character if you know them, if you went there.

Go through emotional rollercoaster on stage, in songs fully feeling all of it. Completely feeling all sadness, anger, frustration and hurt, then crowd starts screaming/everything is right in the world.

Reach out 2 new people challenge yourself creatively/change up influences. Easy to remain the same. Be inspired by things you’ve never been inspired by before.

Think of topics you haven’t covered. New ways to present old emotions that everyone feels.

Throw shoulders back/be friendly.

Fans - Large group of people but expect individual contact. Look at each other something simple feel really connected to the fans. They get me, they show up. There for me/understand me.

Saying right thing at right moment shouldn’t change who you are based on the room you’re playing in.

Insert into online communities, be in on their wide jokes, talked to them, not just posting industry crap like ‘vote for me’ or ‘this is coming out.’

Love how the internet’s given people ability to express who they are, express sense of humor.

Being comfortable letting people know I’m awkward, not that cool, not edgy. Be self. Don’t try to be something you’re not.

I don’t think anyone has a solid stance on an way that they feel it’s like saying are you happy everyday?

Fame, paparazzi: Mental exercise, how many years did you want this, how many years did you dream of this, how many times did you say that when you got famous you’d walk up to people in restaurants/introduce yourself if they were trying to take a picture of you?

Used to say as little kid: If I ever got to do this I’d make the most of it/I’d try to do good things instead of doing weird things/get affected by it.

Age gracefully without anxiety - with time gain more wisdom/use it for good.

To people who are going to understand it/get it/say I feel that too. Reveal life/the emotions. To people who want to take you down/make fun of you.

Having fun. Discovering self.

Make the joke first/better. It’s not as funny when others. They’re the same kind of weird as me. I like to put time into it because it usually starts very different than the way it ends up.

Knew I had to change things up, knew I had to explore different things, go a completely different direction. Go for phone, journal. Write down as soon as you get in your head. “Running to airport bathroom to write on a paper towel.”

Dreamed high pitched “Stay.” All that was coming out of mouth in social humiliation dream. Went to study/wrote a song about it next day.

Very excitable. Get excited about things as they happen to me. Enjoy things when they’re happening to you. Enthusiasm protects from everything.

Create new challenges for self. New genre, new sound.

Try everything then you’ll notice you’ll naturally start to grow/write towards one style.

Following impulses, don’t want to predict where I’ll be. Implement as much spontaneity as you can if life is planned. (Tour a year from now).

This actually is really fun, so just try to enjoy it as much as possible. There’s nothing to stress about.

Stay vulnerable/open/true to emotions/what I’m feeling/how to translate that into song.

Song writers - feel the pain/feel it intensely but as a celebrity you’re supposed to put up wall/block it. So trying to navigate the mixed messages walking a tight rope.

Come from place of storytelling.

Don’t want people to tell me what I want to hear all the time, that doesn’t thrill/excite me at all. They’re all passionate about their own jobs, lives, own things. Keeps me realistic.

Stay realistic. Want to have normal mindset, attitude, priorities, friends-treat me normally, say somethings stupid, guilt trip, etc.

When I listen to album I think about moment that inspired the song, the time he first played it for me, when he went into studio/recorded it for me/all the different mixes he played forme. It’s most amazing thing to have all those memories with someone/then to have piece of art connected to it. It’s like a photo album.

Sometimes not able to calm down. But allow yourself to be okay with that. Feel insecure, overwhelmed, or sad, depressed then feel guilty for feeling those things so it compounds it. So = most amount of negative emotions you can possibly be feeling. Some of greatest lessons I’ve learned and some of best songs I’ve written have come from when I didn’t feel good. Allow brain to work through it on its own/sometimes write song about it/makes me feel better.

Don’t feel manipulated creatively so no regrets. Continue to fulfill that creative need or there’d be a void.

Like to let life happen rather than have a plan for it. If you have plans, you’ll force life to take that course/might not end up with right person/circumstance!

Cover - makes me feel happy

Body language - she’s turned away from me is that inviting?

Convincing members of team switch was a good idea.

Biggest struggle turned into the biggest triumph when it worked out.

You’re going to have thousands of decisions to make on daily basis that will end up depicting your image, sound, all the things that will shape you as a public image let those decisions be yours. You steer the ship creatively. You pick your battles-fighting the neon top, that’s not a hill I wanna die on.

If you win an award-isn’t that crazy?! How do you just sit there and be like “oh another grammy.”

Puts you at ease when you’re around her, everybody full of youthful spirit. Really inspiring.

Huge success: Never felt like a huge weight. Go back to that place where it feels balanced.