#but i spent hours writing and the response was essentially a bunch of people telling me they didnt like the ending

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

would you ever do a part 2 to eddie falling for the girl that he was supposed to be casual with in no happy endings 🥲

My friend, in the nicest way possible, I don't know how I could have more heavily implied that they would get together in future.

Here is what happened in my head: reader breaks up with her boyfriend cause she realised he wasn't right for her and she likes Eddie. She's gonna flirt with him like crazy in front of everyone, his heart is gonna pound out his chest. He stops fucking other girls, she stops hanging around anyone who is mean to him (especially hypocrites who did it after/while fucking him). Eddie dances around asking her out cause he's a worried lil bean terrified he's reading her wrong when she says she loves being around him. Eventually she gets tired of waiting, smacks one on him in the school car park in front of everyone and then they're dating forever and ever. Orgasms and love abound.

[sturchling]

I Can’t Stand Liars

My finals are finally over, and I am finally done with college! I have some time to write again. This is another story based on a prompt from @silvia7272

Hope you all like this one!

Alice doesn’t get along with her family and starts to live with her Uncle Jagged. She meets Marinette and they become friends. When Alice notices Marinette becoming more and more sad, she decides to join Marinette at her school. And then Alice meets the local liar.

Alice’s family was perfectly normal. Her dad was a member of parliament and had been for several years. Her mother was a stay-at-home mom who spent all day cooking and cleaning. Her brother was the star of the rugby at school. They were picture perfect. Except for Alice. Alice was not perfectly normal. She loved rock and roll music, tattoos, and wild hair. It is safe to say that Alice and her family do not get along well. There was only one member of Alice’s family that she liked. Alice liked her Uncle Jagged. Uncle Jagged had started traveling the world, playing music, and having a great time. But Alice’s father would not allow Alice to see or even speak to Uncle Jagged. Any time she asked to see him, her father would say, “Your uncle is a degenerate. Just wasting his life playing that ridiculous music, not contributing to society. I will not have him taint your potential.” That answer always infuriated Alice. She never understood how her father could say that about his brother. As Alice grew up, she grew distant from her parents. They hardly talked to her anymore, and when they did, all they wanted was to make sure she was perfect.

When she turned 13, she had a massive fight with her parents. Alice had gone and gotten a small stud in the side of her nose. Her parents had blown up when they saw it, and spent hours yelling at her and telling her that she will be taking out that stud and never putting it back in. Alice stormed off to her room, absolutely furious. She was so tired of having to be perfect, she just wanted to let loose and have fun. It was her life after all. It felt like she was lying about herself. And she hated lying. So, she did something she promised her parents that she would never do. She looked for her Uncle Jagged. The most recent post on his official social media said that he was here in London. Alice wasted no time, packed a bag, and left the house to go looking for him. The different fan websites showed what hotel he was staying at, and one person had even found out what room he was staying in. She got to the hotel about half an hour later. She went straight to what was supposed to be his room and knocked. A woman with magenta hair opened the door. When she saw Alice, she got an annoyed look on her face. “How many of you obsessive fans am I going to have to turn away today!?” As she starts to close the door, Alice stammered out, “wait!” Alice grabbed the edge of the door to keep it closed and continued, “I am not a fan, I’m family. Jagged is my uncle, I’m his niece Alice.” The woman looked at her appraisingly and slowly opened the door a little more. Alice pushed it a little more saying, “Please, just let me see him. He will tell you who I am.” The woman thinks for a minute and reluctantly agrees, “Well, it can’t hurt. And there is a small resemblance.” The woman opened the door and let Alice inside. Finally, the woman then called out, “Jagged! You have a visitor!”  A voice from somewhere in the suite responded, “Who is it Penny?” So that is the woman’s name. Penny calls back, “A girl saying she is your niece. She says her name is Alice.” A crash sounds from the back of the suite and suddenly Jagged came running into the main room. He stared at her in shock and said, “Alice? What are you doing here? It’s rock’in to see you, but I thought your dad didn’t want me to speak to any of you...” Alice dropped her bag and replied, “Well, me and dad never saw eye to eye on that. We had a major fight. I can’t take it anymore Uncle Jagged. They don’t care about me; they just want a perfect daughter.” Jagged, after hearing this, walked up to his niece and hugged her. “As rock’in as it is to see you, I need to tell your parents where you are. I am sure they are worried. Do you have their number?” Alice gives Jagged their number and he goes into the other room to call her parents. It was a while before he came back and Jagged was mad when he came back. Alice bit the bullet and asked, “So? I guess I have to head back home now?” Jagged’s jaw clenched and said, “No. They said the exact opposite. They said if you want to come to me then you can just stay with me. They don’t have time for such an ‘ungrateful daughter’. They essentially just disowned you. So not rock’in.” Alice was shocked. She knew she and her parents didn’t get along at all, but she didn’t think they would disown her. So that was how Alice started living with her Uncle Jagged and traveling all over the world.

Eventually, they started staying at the Le Grand Paris. Alice had been having a great time living with her Uncle Jagged. Alice got to be herself. She switched out her nicer clothes for an edgier outfit. Her typical outfit now was a purple halter top, ripped up black jeans, black combat boots, and a black leather jacket. Her hair was now dyed purple to match her uncle’s. During this time Alice was completing an online education. They had originally  tried and public school when Alice first started living with Jagged, but when students found out who she lived with, they would say anything to be her friend. And when they found out that Alice wasn’t going to just get them into concerts for free and get them all of this merch they wanted, they ditched her. Eventually, Alice grew tired of people lying to her to get close to her and decided it would be better to just attend online school. Alice couldn’t stand to be around liars.  Alice had just turned 14 and she was starting to want to attend an actual school, since they were most likely going to be in Paris for a long time. One day, the local school Francoise Dupont sent a class to the hotel for career day. That was the day Alice met Marinette. Marinette and Alice instantly clicked when she designed the glasses for Jagged. From then on, whenever Marinette came to speak with Jagged, Marinette would stay after her meeting to hang out with Alice. One day, Marinette seemed sadder than normal. When Alice asked what was going on, Marinette just said it was some minor drama at school. But Marinette just seemed to get more and more sad. Marinette would never answer Alice when Alice brought it up. Alice hated that Marinette was lying. After everything with her parents, after they made Alice lie about herself, Alice hated lying and liars. After a while Alice got more and more worried for her friend and decided to enroll in Marinette’s school. It was easy to convince her Uncle Jagged to let her attend that school. The night before Alice started school, Marinette came over and hung out with Alice until late, helping Alice get ready to start at the school. Alice didn’t realize that she was about to meet the liar responsible for her friend’s sadness.

Monday morning, Alice arrived to Francoise Dupont bright and early. She had found out the day before that she was in Ms. Bustier’s class just like Marinette. Alice walked to the classroom and saw Marinette sitting in the back of the class. Alice joined her in the back row. The two girls chatted for a while, until the rest of the class arrived as well. Two girls walked in, one who looked furious, and the other had a black eye. The angry girl stormed up to Marinette and started yelling, “Marinette! How could you!? Why did you attack Lila!” Marinette shrunk back a bit and tried denying the claim but this girl just kept yelling. Alice got fed up, stood up, and slammed her hands on the table yelling, “HEY!” That got the angry girl to shut up. “Why are you yelling at Marinette?” The girl turned to her and asked, “who are you?” Alice, who was still annoyed that this girl was yelling at her friend, replied “I’m Alice, I’m new. Now I’ll ask again, why are you yelling at her?” The girl with the black eye interjected and started crying, “Well, since you’re new, you wouldn’t know but Marinette is a bully. She won’t leave me alone. She is so jealous of me. She even attacked me last night after I left dinner at the VIP section of the Le Grand Paris hotel restaurant.” What? Alice was now thoroughly confused. Marinette couldn’t have attacked this girl. Marinette had been with her all night. Alice decided to ask a few more questions, cause to much of this story didn’t make sense. There was no way people believed this. “Wait, why were you at the VIP section? Why would she be jealous of you?” Everyone in class looked at Alice like she was crazy. The angry girl answered Alice, “Girl Lila is a super important person. She has helped Prince Ali with his charities, her dance moves were so good that Clara Nightingale has taken her dance moves, and she knows a bunch of famous people. She even knows Jagged Stone. She helped save Jagged’s kitten from getting run over on an airport runway. That is why she was at the VIP section last night; she was speaking with Jagged about the song he wrote about her.” Alice was shocked by what she heard. How does anyone believe this nonsense? This Lila girl is obviously a liar. Alice looked closer at the black eye and noticed now that it was clearly makeup. This girl isn’t even a good liar. So, Alice, ever the honest person, blurted out, “Wow, Lila. You are a horrible liar. Those stories are so fake.” The whole class immediately glared at her while Lila just cried out, “How could you say that?” Alice rolled her eyes. “Easily. Firstly, you are not even really crying. No tears. Second, I know Marinette didn’t attack you last night, because Marinette was with me all night.” While they were gapping at Alice and trying to argue with her, Alice reached down and grabbed her water bottle from her bag. Alice opened the bottle and continued, “Also, that is not a real black eye. And you know how I know that?” With that Alice threw the water in Lila’s face. The makeup she had used for the black eye immediately started smudging and dripping. Alice put the bottle down and said, “I know that because I have never seen black eyes drip before.” The class now turned to Lila and was staring at the now ruined ‘black eye’. “Finally, I may not know about those other celebrities you claim to know, though I can guess those are lies too, I know for a fact that you do not know Jagged Stone, he never wrote a song about you, and you never saved his cat” Lila started to show her true colors and snapped, “How could you possibly know that? Not like you know him. You just look like a super fan.” With that Alice smiled, and even Marinette started to smile as she realized that she was watching Lila’s downfall. Alice ended her spiel by saying, “I never fully introduced myself, did I? My name is Alice Stone. I am Jagged’s niece. He has never had a kitten; it is to normal for him. He does have an awesome crocodile name Fang. And Jagged has never mentioned you. You are just a terrible liar. Do not lie about my Uncle again, he probably won’t like that you are telling people he wrote a song about a minor.” With that, Alice sat down and watched the fireworks. The class realized the reality that their ‘friend’ was just a liar and began yelling at Lila. At lunch, Marinette turned to her and said, “Not that I didn’t enjoy watching that show, but why did you do all that?” Alice replied, “I may have been meaner than I meant to be, but I had to expose her.” Marinette looked at her confused and asked, “Why did you have to expose her. You could have just told Jagged and had him handle it. Not that I’m complaining.” Alice smirked like the Cheshire Cat and said, “I just can’t stand liars.”

[nochanchu]

down for you

pairing: wong yukhei x reader genre: best friends to lovers au | fluff, romance, themes of relationship jitters, includes a hookup mention (no smut though!) and overthinking but i promise it’s cute and sweet--hell, there’s a date at disneyland here! wc: 5,184 description: Contrary to common belief, being in a relationship with your best friend isn’t as easy as you’d think. It’s new territory for the both of you; luckily, you have him to remind you that it’s all learning process that you two are taking together. author’s note: hey y’all! em here randomly dropping a fic i’ve had in the works for like two-ish years now? here i am! maybe i’ll even wind up writing more~

Sometimes you have to ask yourself if dating Wong Yukhei is a good idea, if the executive decision to cross boundaries from the “Should we try this?” to the “Holy fuck, are we actually trying this?” is worth the awkwardness of transitioning.

It’s not weird. Per se. It’s more… different.

There are things you’ve done with him that you don’t think twice about like going out to boba places or spending twelve consecutive hours at the 24-hour library on campus. They’re like secondhand nature. You don’t have to overthink when you hit him up at 2 AM to go grab some coffee or if something’s just weighing on your mind and you just need a distraction. Whereas, there are still things that you aren’t quite sure about like kissing or holding his hand. Like you really fuckin’ want to, but another part of you wonders if this is the point of no return. If you metaphorically consummate this agreement that you’ll be losing him if things fall to shit.

Perhaps it helps that you’ve only known him for a couple of years. Somehow forging a friendship with one another after only a few obligatory discussions in a comparative literature class you both breezed through as easily as you both seemed to formulate a bond over a hot pot place up near the state’s capital city, because “if there’s one place everyone needs to try for hot pot, then that is the place.” (His words, not yours, but you agreed nonetheless.) You can vaguely recall how tentative conversations about homework stopped being about homework and more about what kinds of things you like, where you both hung out, and who you both knew, because unbeknownst to either of you, Dong Sicheng would be the bridge over the small gap between you two.

Because once Sicheng became a variable in the equation, suddenly it wasn’t just study hangouts together, it was coming out at ungodly hours for caffeine and snack food from all the best places in town. It was the necessary transition to be where you both are now, and it was the very push that essentially established a something-more and something-that-could-be, that has led you down this path of hand-holding and shy pecks when you think (and hope) no one else is watching.

The very thought of a relationship with Wong Yukhei still gets to you too. Not only has he single handedly integrated himself into your life as your best friend, he’s become your significant other. Your boyfriend. Your boo. Your… something (everything). And, realizing just how easily he has transitioned his way across your life makes you queasy and nervous, bringing forth a new bundle of emotions you locked away so long ago.

When you look at him, you ask yourself if this is something you should be doing, if what you’re really doing by participating with your best friend is truly okay, and if or when this comes to an end, will you be ready to deal with those consequences? You ask yourself if holding his hand and kissing his lips feel right or if running his hands through your hair or if his large, firm hands on your hips should feel that foreign.

You see happiness and possibility with him, but at the very same time, you fear for the crash and burn—

“You okay?” Yukhei asks with his eyes trained on you. His once far steps begin to match your slowed pace, no longer as excited as they once were for the tea cups.

The two of you have been abandoned by the rest of the group for obvious reasons, and somehow it does not bring you as much comfort as you once confided to Sicheng. In fact, the lack of tomfoolery and rowdiness that the rest of the group brings actually emphasizes the sudden stiffness that you’ve been trying to avoid since arriving at LAX. Although this trip has been planned months in advance, the development of your relationship with Yukhei is still new.

Back at home, it’s too easy to let yourself fall into that small comfort of interlocked fingers and the small shared smiles of camaraderie in your classes. You don’t think twice about it when no one else is around, and yet knowing that everyone else is traipsing around Disneyland while you’re both off doing your own thing makes you feel exposed. Like they know you guys are together, and yet you don’t know what they’re thinking about you two. The most frustrating part of it all is that you don’t usually care about what people think when it comes to you. Your relationships are merely an extension of you, so how this bothers you as much as it does, still doesn’t quite register in your brain all that well.

You know everything’s okay with him. You haven’t had issues over dumb things or really any issues at all. You can’t even deny that things have gone surprisingly well since his confession to you a few months back. In many ways, it has felt like a long time coming, and just about everyone in your shared friend group can agree. But now that it’s here, present and glaringly so, you’re actually quite nervous.

He says your name.

Instead of at the three-foot distance you could’ve sworn you two were at, his voice reaches you by the shell of your ear. The deep, huskiness articulating your name as it has plenty of times before elicits a sudden jump of surprise from you in response.

You flash him a glare when he lets out an abrupt snort and half of a hearty laugh.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says with the corners of his lips twitching. “But seriously, are you okay? You seem a little uneasy. Is it the crowd?”

You look up from a stray gum wrapper just as a few passersby brush against you two in an attempt to get to the teacups that’ve been calling Yukhei’s name since you both arrived at the amusement park. The prick of guilt surges over you as the line looks like you’ve both missed your shot at riding the multi-colored pastel cups this time, you respond with a sheepish laugh.

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m sorry for making you miss the ride though.”

He doesn’t look particularly convinced which is to be expected with all the time you’ve spent together, but he still waves off your apology with a casual grin. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and guides you down the lane toward the line, so neither of you miss the line on the next session.

“No need to be sorry, there’s always a next time,” he says with a small glance your way. You meet his look very briefly before looking back at the spinning machines coated in soft shades of pinks, blues, and yellows. He leans in once more though you don’t jump (thankfully) to ask, “Are you sure you’re alright though?”

You nod, tentatively wrapping your arm around his waist. “The crowd’s no biggie for me. It’s not actually that bad right now.”

“Is it something else then?” When you half-heartedly shake your head, he raises an eyebrow at you. “You can tell me if something’s wrong.”

You blink as his gaze meeting yours does not waver. He never fails to surprise you even when you think he isn’t paying attention. It’s like the time he knew when you were disappointed about your first physics midterm and when you failed your driving test the first time you took it. As soon as he received the half-hearted text message about your failure, he was right over with milk tea and your favorite stew from that one phở place you both love. His perceptive eye almost always catches you when you least expect it, whether that’s when you’re hiding your true emotions or needing someone’s shoulder to lean on. He just knows how to decipher you and your safeguards. And at this moment, you’re not sure whether you love it or hate it right now.

Because the offer tempts you. Of course, you don’t like keeping things from him. You’ve come to a point in your relationship where you can tell him everything and just about anything isn’t off the table, though this has long since been a thing even before you both decided to give romance a shot. Being “together” together doesn’t change that. It shouldn’t. That’s what you both agreed on. Truthfully, you just can’t tell if it is just you struggling to adjust or if he was just that good at hiding how he really felt, because again, he surprises you more than you like to admit. And that thought is enough for you to back off, the self-assurance of your own thoughts telling you that he would tell you if that were the case.

“I’m fine, I promise.” You try to smile, knowing fully well how fruitless the gesture is but still deciding to try it out anyway.

He’s obviously still unconvinced. But the longer he looks at you expectantly, the more you grow silent as a power play response.

If there’s one thing Wong Yukhei hates, it’s silence. It unnerves him. He needs something to fill the air, otherwise he can’t help but fidget. It’s why you can’t study too long together, because then neither of you will get anything done. And it’s especially why he heaves a sigh before amending the situation.

“You’re super sure then?”

You simply nod and he leaves the topic be as you both wait to get on the ride.

Waiting in such a public area doesn’t give either of you much cover. In fact, it leaves you both out in the open, like fish laid out to dry on a burning hot summer day or deer prancing in an open road. It’s as though Fate wanted you both to get spotted, much to your displeasure.

There’s a chorus of raucous laughter and shrill shrieks that could only belong to the loudest mouths of the bunch as soon as you and Yukhei inch forward. The sounds are too familiar for your liking, eliciting only a glare in the direction of all the ruckus as you and the very tall, very noticeable man besides you gives a sheepish wave of his own as your group of friends drinks both your interlocked hands and close proximities in like dehydrated flowers.

“Hey lovebirds!” Yuta pipes up, accompanied by his girlfriend. She’s almost sympathetic to your embarrassment if it weren’t for how cute you and Yukhei looked together, then she might’ve helped you out by calming the excited ash blond whose hand is entwined in her own.

They’re cute and admirable, a perfect example of friends to lovers, though with some minor adjustments—some of which was Yuta’s initial position as her Japanese tutor before finding the courage to ask her out compared to yours and Yukhei’s initial drunk sex-capade, a detail that you still have yet to come to a proper conclusion on, because how could things be so different from then to now? You almost wished you two hadn’t done the deed and instead started things off normally like confession without the pretenses of messing around in the background. But you decide not to indulge in retaliation, merely releasing Yukhei’s hand and stretching your limbs in front of you before resting your hands behind your head.

Sicheng very briefly catches your eye as if to ask you if things are going alright, but you ignore him and the audible groans from the others at the lack of skinship between you and Yukhei. You know they’ve been dying for yours and Yukhei’s relationship since the group started and finally took notice of your close friendship. But while you relished in this unification between your respective friend groups, which so easily blended together, you kind of wished it didn’t create such an immense pressure on you to fall into those standards of what couples do and how they’re supposed to act around one another.

Even if the embarrassment is wholly eating at you, their departure is something you relish in as you and Yukhei are prompted into the ride, leaving behind your friends and their incessant teasing.

“Ah, don’t mind them,” he tells you.

You give him a small nod, which causes him to place his palm atop your head for a couple of a seconds. It earns him a smile, even if it does not wholly reflect the thoughts inside your head.

/

At the very least, getting on the teacups changes the mood.

Being that it is his first time there, and you’re a Disneyland veteran, you have made it your own personal goal to give him the full experience. Like everyone else flying at unmeasurable speeds, you start off by grabbing hold of the steering wheel between you and the ash blond man, giving the warm metal several good turns to get the canary yellow teacup spinning. This keeps the momentum up, moving you both so rapidly, you don’t even realize how closely it has brought you together until you can hear his laughter at your side and one of his hands covers yours to join in on the spinning.

It stays like that too. Even after you both have exited off the ride, you both shakily navigate around the park in search of another ride to quench your thrill-seeking taste buds.

When you look up, you find him already staring at you and looking away from you all in the same moment. It makes you laugh, but you try not to exacerbate the teasing or the pink in his cheeks as you two pass through the vicinity. He has these moments where you've caught him looking at you; at first, you assumed it was because there might've been something on your face that you didn't catch before walking out of your dorm, and eventually, it became abundantly clear that he was simply trying to capture the moment. Last time you shared a moment like this, you both crossed the bridge from friends to lovers, and now you two were at the point of no return.

“What do you wanna do next?” you ask him.

You needed to break the moment. It helped to blink, just so you wouldn't fall back into your previous disposition. You didn't want to worry him, you didn't like to. It wasn't like he meant for things to happen as they did. He hadn't been one to initiate the hook-up, though he consented and reciprocated with as much fervor as you had. He had blurted out his confession shortly afterwards; it was quick, slurred together because his heart was probably ready to jump out of his chest when he realized it was now or never. Either you two would have done that or acted as if nothing had happened, and truthfully, you don't think you could've done the latter. Not when all your feelings seemed to sit in your throat, ready to jump out.

Truthfully, you've been one to admit your feelings to those you admired, but never with close friends. You had never liked your close friends. It wasn't some kind of unspoken rule or anything. It was just a matter of keeping romantic and platonic relationships from being one; it was easier this way, less messy in case things went awry. Close friends were hard to come by, relationships always complicated things to a point where you didn't know whether you had the same person in your life. Previous significant others had used secrets of yours against you; they would take what they wanted from you and leave, and it all hurt like a bitch.

It hasn't with Yukhei, you reassure yourself. And it truly hasn't.

He's looking at you with a goofy grin spread across his handsome face. He tells you, “Whatever you want to do."

The gesture is contagious, and you begin to feel butterflies fluttering inside your stomach.

“You’re technically the expert here, so you take the reign,” he adds, running a hand through his hair. You know he doesn't want to do the wrong thing with you, partially from the group's advising and also because relationships just take that kind of patience. You two have spent a long time being friends, enjoying each other's presence without the same expectations as you two have now. Of course, it's a little different. Of course, you two can expect to be a little nervous. It's untouched territory, you have to remind yourself. You're both figuring shit out.

You don't want to freak him out, so you try to keep the banter up. It isn't hard when he's as expressive and funny as he is. It even helps you push aside all of these floating thoughts a little longer.

“Don’t I always?” you snicker as his jaw drops. It’s moments like this that are reminiscent of your relationship prior to now. Back then, it was easy to have flirty banter, because any sort of intention was simply in the background. It wasn’t mandated by your relationship status; instead it sort of just happened. It didn’t happen because it needed to. It happened because you two wanted it to happen.

He tries to muster up a serious enough tone, but you can hear the whine in it. The sound earns him another laugh from you. “No! I’m pretty sure I’ve had a fair share of being the leader,” he says, with a slight puff to his chest.

Tapping your chin, you reply, “I suppose so.”

The gesture exacerbates his dramatics by earning you a guffaw.

“I do! I may not be the Disneyland expert, but I can make a suggestion.” He tilts his head, ever-so-slightly. “Yeah?”

You stop tapping your chin to wave him on and his hand takes that hand into his. “Of course, you can!”

As he interlaces your fingers with his, you have a mild suspicion that he’s going to lead you to the Silly Symphony Swings. Only mild because it’s rather close and you could see that it was something he had his eyes on since you two arrived.

Something about the ride is reminiscent of him, perhaps he gravitates to them for the opportunity to make his childhood dream of flying come true. It was a superpower he mentioned during one of those god awful ice breakers on the first day of that comparative literature class, and something he went into further detail when you guys had your previous hangouts, before this relationship ordeal.

“Trying to fly, Superman?” You indulge in his desire to swing your arms. He loves it, practically bouncing as you two walk between the crowds.

“It’s just like how you make me feel,” he says, giving you a twirl as you approach the line. "Is that okay?"

It's so becoming of Yukhei to still ask if something is okay. You remember him mentioning how he used to get scolded for being too much with previous partners, always one for the cheesy gestures like twirling a loved one in those romantic comedies or quoting the absolutely cringey lines from movies just for the laughs. You found--and still do find--it endearing; the others not so much.

“Of course,” you say, laughing just as loudly as he does. “I can't control your feelings, silly."

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, "is that okay?"

You nod, almost ready to shut your eyes when he kisses the top of your head.

Moments like this serve to remind you that he still has your best interests in mind. He cares a whole fuck ton about you, and no change to your and his relationship status can ever alter that. He hasn’t changed into a completely different person like one assumes would happen in a relationship between friends, so why should you?

This feels right. The giggles, the weightlessness, his hand in yours.

/

You two finally catch up with your group for lunch at one of the all too expensive restaurants in the park. Since it is Yukhei’s first time there, you don’t mind it so much, as it is an experience you think people should have at least once.

Yuta eyes the two of you, seemingly ready to let loose another witty observation before his girlfriend shoves a French fry into his mouth. She smiles sweetly to him before flashing you an apologetic look.

You must’ve appeared a little disgruntled already. The time with Yukhei was both lovely and nerve-wracking, because a small but rather haunting part of you couldn't stop wondering if your time separated from the group would upset them. After all, they had extricated themselves from the two of you so you and Yukhei could spend more time together. What if you two had overindulged?

A part of your stomach churns as you and Yukhei take a seat beside the teasing boy. Being back with everyone begins to remind you of the initial doubts you had, the very ones you’ve had bubbling inside of you. And it makes you feel worse when you feel Yukhei reach for your hand across the table, because everyone is there, watching, waiting, and worst of all, expecting the two of you to be some sort of perfect, lovey dovey couple going through their honeymoon phase.

Maybe you guys should be, maybe it’s fine. You want to believe it is, but somehow the way you waver to hold hands, incites another comment.

“Trouble in paradise, love birds?” Yuta asks, raising an eyebrow at you two.

You give him a sidelong glance and shake your head.

“We’re fine,” Yukhei pipes in. He seems to overtake your thumb then, and he gives a short victory giggle, mainly to himself. It makes the corners of your lips twitch, though you stop short just as you hear Yuta speak again.

“Are you sure?” he inquires, looking at you this time.

“We’re fine,” you add, with a huff, “really.”

Yuta still seems to watch you both, though everyone else makes work of doing the same. It unsettles you just how much your relationship feels like it’s under a microscope, one wrong move and suddenly things are blown out of proportion.

Perhaps that's another reason why you aren't prone to going out with friends. The idea of a relationship having such an audience unsettles you. You like your privacy and keeping that kind of business under wraps. These things are supposed to be intimate, accepted if the partner is a good person for you (which Yukhei is on all levels), and yet, you feel like your relationship is proceeding jaggedly, because of the hyper-fixation.

You sigh, having already let go of Yukhei's hand once you and the others received your food. And the sigh doesn't go unnoticed either. You have a few glances from Yuta and Sicheng, Yukhei too, but you stand up and excuse yourself to the restroom.

Despite it being on the left, you take a right to get away from the restroom itself.

/

You manage to navigate through the crowd and remain within reach of the restaurant by hiding out in one of the souvenir shops that you and the others planned on visiting near the end of your visit. There's an assortment of Disney ears, stuffed animals from nearly all the movies, and things of that nature.

The ears have always caught your eye, the pink glittery ones, the blue ones. They're all made with different designs, based off of the various movies made by Disney and Pixar, and they remind you of a simpler time where relationships were yours, not part of an audience and watched. They also remind you of yours and Yukhei's mutual love for the movies; one of the main tipping points in your transition from classmate acquaintances to budding friends. His favorite had been the sweet and fun Hercules, while you heavily shared a love for that one, Treasure Planet definitely had your heart. Both were stories of characters trying to find their own in the world. You smile to yourself.

You’re just about to check your phone and update your friends and Yukhei about where you are when you see him. Your ash blond boyfriend who gives a small wave.

“Hey you,” he says as he makes his way beside you. He paws through the ears, probably to see if there are any Hercules-themed ears. 

“Hey,” you say, wishing you had found one just to give it to him. You decide to check for those on Etsy sometime later, or one of those Instagram boutiques, just to see him light up. 

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, stopping his search when he realizes it’s futile and looks at you. 

You don’t say anything, giving a shrug. “I’m sorry,” you say. 

“Talk to me,” he prods gently. “If that’s okay?” 

“I’ve been worried about us,” you admit. “Not that I don’t want this or you. I do. I’m just so uncertain about this whole thing.”

“That’s no reason to be sorry, you know,” he says. He offers a hand to you, an escape from the shop for more privacy, which you take. It's a brief walk to a seating area not too densely populated by the park visitors. It’s a bench beneath some of the all too perfect-looking shrubbery, where there are red little flowers with yellow dot-like centers to make it even more picture perfect. 

As soon as you two sit down, you immediately ask, “Did we fuck up by not confessing first?”

He shakes his head. “I think what we did was still special, even if it wasn’t very conventional to the kind of relationship we think should have. But I think whatever relationship we have, whatever start, is still pretty damn special.” 

Your hand is still in his, and he gives yours a squeeze. 

“Aren’t you worried?”

He lets loose a shaky laugh, “Of course I am. Relationships are so terrifying and new. I’m scared shitless wondering if I’m doing anything okay. That’s why I keep asking. I don’t ever want to put you in a situation where you feel uncomfortable or obligated in any shape or form. But you know what?”

You nod for him to go on. You didn’t realize he was feeling similar jitters.  

“As scared and nervous as I am, I’m just as excited to begin this new journey with you wherever it takes us. And if you don’t think you’re ready for it, then I’m fine backing off, taking things easy, or even trying to go back to the way things were. It wouldn't be the exact same, but again, I don’t want you to feel obligated to be in this relationship if it isn’t something you feel like doing.” 

“I want to,” you tell him. “I do. I really want to see how this goes, because you’re an amazing guy, Yukhei. I didn’t even realize you were scared too. I guess just thinking back on previous relationships and how we came to be got me overthinking. This is new for me. I’ve never dated a best friend before. If anything, that’s probably the most terrifying part about this. I don’t know what’ll happen by the end of it, if that comes and I don’t know when or if it will. But just not knowing drives me crazy.” 

“I mean, you were willing to consider that, so that says something, right? That you’re willing to take a leap of faith and see where we go together?” he asks, rubbing circles on your hand with his thumb. “I think us not being best friends anymore would suck, indefinitely. I think you’re one of my favorite people in this world, next to my mom.” You laugh just as he smiles. “But I think whatever happens happens because it’s meant to. We’ll be in each other’s lives, no doubt. I think it’d take time and space, but also communication if we wanna get through whatever pops up, yeah?”

“Yeah, you make a good point there,” you say, considering everything he’s said. It sounds like your rational side aloud. “I’m sorry for being such a mess.” 

He shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve been freaking out, wondering if I was doing something wrong. Being too much. If it wasn’t that, then I thought maybe I was being too much of a worrywart, but I’m sorry for not picking up on how you were feeling.” 

“You couldn’t have known unless I told you,” you point out. “Plus, another thing that’s been bugging me has been how doting our friends have been for some reason.” 

Yukhei agrees, “They have been, especially Yuta.” 

“I know it’s all in good fun, but I’ve been hypersensitive to it all. This whole trip has been giving me the jitters. I don’t know, it seems so silly,” from Yukhei’s look, it doesn’t see it so casually, which comforts you, “okay, not so silly, but it seems so odd to think that it wouldn’t be super easy to be with you. You’re great and I like that we can finally be honest with ourselves and our feelings, but somehow I expected best friends transitioning to a relationship to be less awkward?” 

“I’m sorry he’s been bugging you so much,” you give a shrug since you know Yuta means no harm by it, “I get what you mean. All the movies make this seem like it should be super easy and super perfect.” 

“Doesn’t it feel like we should be in our honeymoon phase already?” 

“Like the whole ‘I love you so much,’ ‘no, you hang up,’ and then that weird game of wanting to hang up but not wanting to hang up?” 

You both laugh at the ridiculousness. Neither of you are like that, kudos to those who are and can be, but it isn’t you guys. You laugh over silly things, nerd out over movies you love, break out in song and dance when the song absolutely calls for it. You guys have your own way of doing things, and even Yukhei understands the pressures and the uncertainties, and yet, he’s still more than willing to work through them and find ways that will. 

“You think we can make this work?” you ask, letting go of his hand because yours has gone a little clammy. 

He nods, “It helps with communication.” 

You laugh sheepishly as he pulls you into a hug. “No matter how you’re feeling I’m more than happy to hear what you have to say and I will try my damn hardest to help.” 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, but he simply kisses your forehead after letting go of you. 

“I only want the best for you, silly. No apology needed.” 

In response, you simply pull him in for a kiss. It’s sweet and chaste, still different and new, but comforting all the same. He reciprocates, smiling into the kiss. 

Whatever thoughts you had earlier, you find that they don’t weigh as heavy on your shoulders anymore. Of course, it’s going to take some learning and communicating, but you’re as just as glad as he is that you guys get to do this thing together. 

[verstappenist]

I Dare You | Ben Hardy

A/n: I just want to say that this is my first time writing for Ben, so I’m sorry if it’s bad... Also, English is not my first language so there could be some mistakes... Constructive criticism is appreciated!

The first part of this is College!Ben, the second part is current Ben! It is based on a prompt I found somewhere on Pinterest and sadly didn’t save...

Big thank you to @anotheronebitestheskye for convincing me to post this ily💗

Word Count: 1,601

Warnings: None!

Your and Ben’s story began nearly a decade ago, when you both went to the Royal Central School of Speech and Drama in London.

You had most classes together and would consider yourselves as good friends. Especially after starring in one of the plays together and spending hours upon hours in each others flats running lines to present the professor the perfect result.

Ben and you have been friends ever since.

Three years later, just before graduating the two of you, as well as some of your mutual friends from school went out to celebrate.

But after a few (well many) rounds of drinks and shots the club turned out to be too boring for your little group, that's why Amy decided it would be best to go back to someone's and spend the rest of the night there. "Maybe play some fun games", as she put it with a mischievous grin directed towards Ben.

The other three members of the group quickly approved, and that's how five (including yourself) completely hammered graduands ended up in the living room of your small flat.

"Now, what kind of games did you have in mind, Ames?", questioned Alfie, ever the responsible, whilst handing everyone a glass of water to at least try to cool you down a bit.

Gulping down her water way too quick, she paused for a second before listing a bunch of party games you'd normally play at a high school party, rather than a 'get together'.

"I mean, truth or dare doesn't sound half bad", added Charlie, "we could put in some twists like if you refuse to tell the truth you have to take a shot, and if you refuse a dare you have to remove an article of clothing?"

"That's brilliant! (y/n) you got any liquor?", called Amy, already halfway in the kitchen. "There should be Jägermeister in the cabinet above the sink!", you yelled back, your head falling against Ben's shoulder. The buzz from earlier slowly wearing off and exhaustion taking over.

Ben was looking down at you, adoration reflecting in his emerald eyes. If someone asked him, he would definitely deny it, but the blonde was madly in love with you since you started to hang out - well run lines together but it's essentially the same, right?

Curling his arm around your shoulders to pull you even just a little bit closer, you all waited for Amy to return with the herbal liquor your sister got you as a souvenir from her germany trip with her fiancé.

The sound of the bottle meeting the dark wood of your coffee table caused you to startle from your doze and you nearly jump into Ben's lap. "Holy - Amy be careful, otherwise you're gonna break the bottle", you groaned, burying your face in your friend's shoulder.

"Right, whatever. Who starts?", she grinned after a brief flash of annoyance crossed her face. Charlie volunteered to ask the first question, and chose Ben to be on the receiving end, who chose dare - since truth apparently is only for weaklings.

"Let's start off easy then, I dare you to let each of us draw something on you with a sharpie!", the brunette proposed, grabbing the pen off your notepad.

"I'm sure there will be worse, so let me be your canvas, dear ladies and gentleman!", Ben chuckled whilst shrugging off his jacket to free his muscular arms.

The drawings ended up only half as bad as he expected them to be, which is why he quickly moved on, asking Alfie.

The game continued for another four to five rounds each, leaving most of you at least shirtless, and the, used to be, full bottle of Jägermeister a good amount emptier.

To be honest if it weren't for the others you probably would've already sent them all home by now, the clock on your wall showing 3:16. 

But not just because of that, but also because Amy's obnoxious flirting attempts on Ben were seriously getting ridiculous. That's why you suggested, it would be better to end your gathering and surprisingly most of them thought it was a good idea. Except for Amy, who over the past hour somehow took in your place at Ben's side.

You never really found out why exactly she was hanging out with you lot, since she wasn't even attending the same school. She was Charlie's flatmate that just ended up tagging along with the four of you about two years ago. That was also when she completely, hopelessly started to fall in love with Ben, and honestly who could blame her? But your probably unrequited feelings for your best friend were nobody's business but yours.

Ben quickly stood up, freeing himself from the blondes tight grip around his arm, “I’m going to help you clean this up later just gotta - real quick!” He called as he hurried down the hall towards the bathroom. Making sure to take his time, it might seem rude to wait out for the others to leave, but he really couldn’t deal with this anymore.

When he returned to the living room, Charlie, Alfie and Amy were gone, leaving you spread out on the couch, half asleep. “(y/n), love? You still with me?”

His question startled you, causing you to sit up straight, “Yes, still here.” Taking in the rest of the room Ben noticed that you already put away the bottle and cleaned up the mess you made.

It might seem stupidly cliché but right then, looking all dishevelled and tired, to him you looked ethereal. And it was all it took for him to make a move, finally.

“I have one last dare for you, (y/n)”, he told you confidently.

“And what would that be?”

Ben hesitated, the bravery he just gained, vanished as soon as you finished your question. The blonde just stood there for a second unable to pronounce a single syllable. Which is why you decided to get up, now standing just inches away from him.

His following words were rushed and quiet, just barely loud enough for you to hear, "I dare you to kiss me."

And that was all it took for you to close the gap between the two of you. 

The kiss was the perfect balance between slow and tender, as well as filled to the brim with lust and need. His soft plump lips felt like heaven on earth connected to your own. It felt right in every way possible.

After your drunken kiss seven years ago, your friendship turned into a loving relationship, with a few minor hiccups along the way but you're still going strong. 

Not too long the two of you got a beagle puppy to complete your little family, and Frankie quickly became the most important thing in both your lives.

Your little friend group from back then sadly didn't last but thanks to Ben landing a starring role in Bohemian Rhapsody his cast mates became your second family in no time.

Even after release of the movie and after press tour ‘the band’ never spent more than a few weeks without seeing each other.

And when coincidentally all of them, including Lucy and you, were in the same city there was no way you won't at least spend one night together.

Which is how you ended up in Joe's living room in New York, drinking wine and catching up on each other.

It took you by surprise when Gwilym, out of all people, suggested to play truth or dare, Lucy was immediately on board. Them being the only ones who knew about Ben's plan.

After very little convincing the rest of your little group agreed as well.

"Okay I'll start! Joe, truth or dare?", Lucy asked the first question the man to her left.

The game was nothing too spectacular, discovering some embarrassing teenage stories, here and there humiliating dares and constantly flowing alcohol.

When it was finally Ben's turn, he decided to ask you next. "Truth or dare, love? Choose wisely", he grinned cheekily.

Pretending to think for a moment you winked at the blonde next to you and answered his question with a confident, "dare!", causing the man to grin even wider. Ben's plan might actually work out.

"Okay, I need you to close your eyes for a second. No peeking!"

"Okay, okay! I promise", you giggled, putting both your hands in front of your closed eyes.

Only a few seconds later the whole group gasped, making you wonder what the actual fuck was happening right now. "Okay, (y/n), open up."

Slowly you put down your hands before opening your eyes, only to be met with the other ones standing in a line behind Ben, each one of them holding a single rose.

Your boyfriend of seven years sank to one knee right in front of you, a tiny velvet box held tightly in both his hands.

"(Y/n) (y/l/n), I dare you to marry me."

His deep, rich voice suddenly sounding so small, emerald eyes wide, waiting for a response.

Your hand that just moments prior covered your eyes, were now keeping you from sobbing.

Trying to collect yourself, you turned away from the others, quickly wiping away the tears rolling down your flushed cheeks.

Taking another deep breath you smiled at the still nervous young man kneeling on the carpet, "Yes, let's do this Benny!"

Your friends, who you really forgot were even there erupted in loud cheers as the blonde scrambled to his feet, eagerly pressing his lips to yours, grinning from ear to ear.

[writing-for-amusement]

Keep It Secret, 2

Summary:  Ever since your soulmate told you to stop writing on your skin because they didn’t want to communicate, you did as they asked even though it hurt your heart. During the first day of your new job as an “emergency woman” on a film set, you forget your notepad and planner, so you have to write on your skin. When you’re then called to the makeup trailer to deal with an emergency, you meet Zendaya Coleman, with your supply list on her wrist. You vow to keep your status as her soulmate a secret, even if it hurts, because all you want is for her to be happy. Even if it’s to your detriment.

A/N: This chapter came out of my brain much more easily than the first one! It’s a bit shorter, but I really like where I ended this chapter!!! Let me know if you want to be on the taglist, or on my permanent taglist! And I will get it on my masterlist as soon as this is posted.

Disclaimer:  I do not know or claim to know Zendaya Coleman; I am essentially using her as a face/name claim to my fic idea. That being said, I hope you like this fic!!!!!

Warnings: bit of angst, bit of panic, a bit of kinda flirting???

Word Count: 1842

Taglist: @pparkerwrites, @beccaboo929, @hailqueenconquer, @imaginerequestpage

Chapter 2

You stared into the mirror for a quick moment, unable to stop the frown on your face as you regarded your chubby cheeks. Then, with a glance at your watch, you rushed out of the restroom and straight to the makeup trailer. You were a calm, collected, cool cucumber.

Zendaya turned her head as you entered and smiled brightly at you. “Hey, Y/N! You were right, waiting a few minutes did the trick! It’s all gone now.”

“Hey, that’s great!” you said with fake happiness and pain in your heart.

“Thanks so much, Y/N, I’d give you a hug, but they won’t let me at all,” she smiled at you brightly and your heart was pounding in response.

“Oh, no worries, I’m glad I was able to ease some of your anxieties,” you said with your own smile. You almost said something else, but thankfully, your headset interrupted you, beckoning you to costuming once more.

“It was wonderful to meet you all,” you said to the trailer, “but I am needed elsewhere. I’ll see you all soon, though I hope there aren’t more emergencies!”

“Oh, Y/N!” Zendaya’s voice stopped you. You turned to look at her and managed to hide your racing emotions. “I’d love to get to know you better,” she said with a soft smile.

Your smile was genuine and tender, almost betraying how much you wanted to just be with her. “I’d love to get to know you too, Miss Coleman.”

“Zendaya,” she corrected you with a grin.

“Alright. I would love to get to know you too, Zendaya.”

As she turned around, you left the trailer with calm steps but a panicking heart.

If being around her for five minutes and knowing she’s your soulmate made you ache this much, you really didn’t know how you would survive if she had been honest and actually wanted to get to know you. You were internally screaming as you power-walked to the costuming area once more; your internal dialogue was split into screaming and mentally preparing for the problem you were about to face.

The rest of the day was spent buzzing around the set like a dragonfly and acquainting yourself with the cast and crew. Due to how the day ended up being, you ate “lunch” with the costuming department. It was a rushed lunch because something popped up, but you munched on the rest of your sandwich as you walked to the active filming set.

At the end of your first day of work, you were leaving after almost everyone else. Part of what you loved to do was prepare for possible issues for the next day. So, you spent a significant amount of time organizing things for problems that could arise the next day.

The organizing also helped distract your crazy thoughts from the day.

Every single time you had seen Zendaya, even from a distance, your heart started to race, and you wanted nothing more than to be right next to her, holding her hand.

You hadn’t known that it would be this hard. You had accepted that your soulmate didn’t want you, but you had no idea the kind of toll it would take on your heart when you met your soulmate knowing that she didn’t want you. The kind of stabbing pain that was sent to your heart, to your soul, you were not prepared for at all.

You were leaving the building with a small frown on your face as you obsessed over the events of the day, when a voice called out your name.

It was Zendaya, jogging to meet up with you.

“Hey, what are you still doing here?” you asked, giving her a smile. You were immediately eased with her around, but you were still stressed because you weren’t sure if you could keep the secret after a long day.

“They wanted to go over some stuff for tomorrow with me, since it’s gonna be pretty intense,” she explained. “You going to your car?”

“Ah, no,” you admitted as the two of you meandered in the general direction of the exits. “I ran—I mean, I walked here after I took a bus. I don’t live super far, but I knew that the traffic would make me late today, so I didn’t drive.”

“Do you want me to take you home?” Zendaya asked, and you could hear the genuine concern in her voice. “Or at least get an Uber or a Lyft or something, I’d feel much better if you did. It’s dark, you shouldn’t be walking at this hour. LA isn’t a very safe place, you know, especially for a gorgeous queen like you.”

You felt your face heat up at her compliment and you looked down at the ground sheepishly. Zendaya was making it incredibly difficult to keep the secret, and you hadn’t even conversed with her for more than a total of fifteen minutes.

After shoving your emotions down, you said, “Ah, it’s okay, Zendaya. I’ll be okay. You don’t have to drive me; you should really get home and get some rest. I don’t want to keep you from your sleep!”

She chuckled and the sound made your heart soar. “I want to, Y/N. I like to make sure people get home safely. Especially beautiful women like you.”

You swallowed even though your throat was dry and managed to get out, “Okay, sure. I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a problem,” Zendaya grinned, quickly pivoting the two of you towards the lot where she was allowed to park.

Your phone chirped as you were walking and you pulled it out of your purse, your eyebrows furrowed. It was from Aziza.

“Y/N! How did your first day go??? Tell me EVERYTHING!!!! Idrissa wants to know, too!!!! Tell me, tell me, tell me!!”

You chuckled under your breath and sent back, “I’ll call you as soon as I’m home.”

“That your soulmate?” Zendaya asked as you put your phone away.

Her voice right next to you made you jump in surprise and you chuckled nervously. “Uh, no, I don’t know my soulmate,” you lied despite how much that hurt your chest.

“Ah, well, I’m sure you’ll find them,” she reassured you. “My car is that silver one. Where do you live?”

You rambled off directions for her as you walked to the car. Zendaya tossed her bag in the backseat and gestured for you to climb in, so you clambered in. She entered her side gracefully, much more gracefully than you could do anything, and gave you a grin. After starting the car and shuffling through a bunch of music, your soulmate threw the car into reverse and began the drive.

As soon as you had entered the car, you’d clasped your hands on your lap and tried to keep your mind from running around in panicking circles. It was not working, as you were constantly trying to keep your breath from quickening and launching you into a panic attack during the drive to your apartment.

“You can relax, Y/N,” Zendaya said with amusement in her voice.

You glanced at her and tried to release the tension from your shoulders. It was slow going, but it seemed that your body could tell your soulmate was nearby (and your mind definitely knew your soulmate was nearby), so you managed to relax a little bit. Even though your body was relaxed, your mind remained tense and on-edge.

“Are you always this tense?” Zendaya asked you curiously.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve just been really tense all day,” she remarked. “Or at least, that’s what I’ve observed, ya know?? Every single time I looked at you, you seemed on edge.”

“Why, Zendaya, were you watching me?” you couldn’t help but tease.

“Well, I, uh, no!” she stuttered, and your heart skipped a beat at seeing her so sheepish and adorable. It made you want to take her hand and kiss the back of it, but you knew you couldn’t, because it was what she wanted.

“It’s what she wants, it’s what she wants, it’s what she wants,” you repeated in your head as you kept your hands firmly in your lap.

“It’s alright, I was only teasing,” you grinned. “I must say that the color of that wig, the pink? It looks really good on you.”

“Thanks. I wish it had been my choice, but costuming did that,” Zendaya chuckled. “So,” she pulled up to a stoplight, “tell me about you.”

“Well, I’m not that interesting.”

“C’mon, I think you’re interesting! Tell me,” she smirked.

“Why would you think that?” you asked with a small smile.

“I don’t know, honestly,” she stated with a shrug. “I guess I’m just… drawn to you. So, I want to know things. Also, did you say it was a right or a left at this upcoming light?”

“A left,” you answered, trying to think of what you were going to say in response to that. You repeated your mantra a few times, keeping your hands firmly in your lap.

“So,” Zendaya prompted in a singsong tone.

You sighed slightly before telling her about your interests outside of work. She laughed when you told her that you enjoyed cross stitching swear words surrounded by flowers, and all you wanted to do was hear her laugh all the time.

At that point, she had reached your apartment building, pulling up in front of it.

“Well, thank you so much for the ride,” you smiled as you moved to open the door.

“Y/N,” Zendaya caught your attention. You saw the laughter still shining in her eyes as she regarded you evenly.

“Yes?” you prompted as she was still watching you.

“I’ll pick you up in the morning,” she grinned.

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted you. “I think you’re going to be my new best friend.” At your surprised look, she threw her head back in laughter. “I really like you, Y/N, I want to be friends. Here.” She handed you a scrap of paper. “My number. Text me so I have yours.”

“I, uh, I,” you stuttered.

Zendaya laughed again, even as you carefully took the paper without touching her skin. “You’re adorable. Have a nice night, Y/N, see you in the morning.”

You clambered out of the car and watched her drive off from the door to your apartment building. Your heart and mind were racing at a speed that was probably not medically safe, as you were panicking about how you would handle the entire situation.

Your soul, though, you thought it was your soul that was making you feel so happy instead of so stressed. All you wanted was to curl up with her and pet her hair, to hold her hand. It had taken everything you had to not kiss her cheek when you left her car. It had only been one day and your resolve to keep the secret was already cracking. You couldn’t let it.

It’s what she wants. It’s what she wants. It’s what she wants.

[keepingupwithlinmanuel]

Lin-Manuel Miranda interview: from Hamilton to His Dark Materials

I know Hamilton remains wildly popular more than four years after it premiered on Broadway because of the intense response to my Instagram post boasting I have tickets to watch it the evening before meeting its creator, Lin-Manuel Miranda. "It's one of my absolute favourite things in the world ever!" raves one correspondent. "It's WONDERFUL and I defy you not to download the soundtrack afterwards," adds another. "I went last night! Second time. You're gonna love it."

The problem, however, is that I'm not sure I will love it. When theatre is great, it's the best thing on the planet, but when it is bad, as I have learnt from the bitter experience of watching three-hour open-air adaptations of Dickens' novels, it is the worst. Musicals are especially challenging: in my experience, you either like them or you don't, and given one of the few I have enjoyed was Avenue Q, which subverted the form, I'm in the latter camp.

Then, on top of this, there is the pressure of hype (and Hamilton has been more hyped than anything this side of the moon landings), and the challenge of taking hip-hop, which I love, out of an urban setting. It can easily go a bit Wham Rap!, or even worse, if you've seen the video, Michael Gove performing Wham Rap!.

It is, however, pretty good. The last thing the world needs is another long review of Hamilton, and I can't say I downloaded the soundtrack afterwards or that I didn't look at my watch occasionally, but using rap to retell the dry story of the founding fathers is inspired, and I'm so relieved that I blurt out my review to the 39-year-old writer and performer when I meet him in a restaurant in Fitzrovia. "I do find that with both Hamilton and In the Heights, my first show," responds the award-winning composer, lyricist and actor, "I get a lot of people who say to me, 'I don't really like musicals, but I loved this.' I attribute that to a very simple thing: my wife, who doesn't really like musicals. She didn't grow up going to see them, or doing theatre. She's a lawyer; when we met, she was a scientist. I have a higher bar to clear than most composers, because my first audience is my wife, and it can't just be a pretty tune."

You might recognise his wife, Vanessa Nadal, whom he met at high school, from the video of the couple's wedding reception in 2010, which like everything Miranda touches, went viral, and shows him performing the Fiddler on the Roof song To Life to his beloved.

Even my withered heart may have been momentarily lifted by it. She has accompanied her husband with their two young sons, aged one and four, to Britain, where he is filming a part in the BBC's slick new adaptation of Philip Pullman's His Dark Materials, though the reason he is in London today is that he has just been the subject of an episode of Desert Island Discs. The New Yorker takes a takes a swig of his coffee, which he tells me he chose as his luxury on his island ("I'm so basic"), adjusts his yellow baseball cap and asks me a question about the unsolicited review: "Why did you feel the need to say it?" There follows the most painful recording I've ever had to listen back to, as I make a bunch of ludicrous generalisations about musicals, speculating that perhaps they divide men from women, or the working classes from the middle classes, or straight people from gay people, or white people from brown people. It only strikes me a few minutes in that not only is Miranda living proof that the generalisations are nonsense, but I am essentially explaining musicals to a world expert in the form - a man who, before the age of 40, has a Pulitzer prize, three Tony awards, three Grammys, an Emmy, a MacArthur Fellowship, a Kennedy Center Honor, two Olivier awards, one Academy award nomination and two Golden Globe nominations to his name.

"Where do you want to start?" he responds with what is, in retrospect, startling patience. "You brought in all this cultural baggage and you're laying it at my feet and I don't know which bag to open." Another swig of coffee. "I think with musicals, it has to do with the way in which you interact with music in your own life. I grew up in a culture where dancing and singing at weddings was supercommon. So, if that's corny to you growing up, or you're taught to believe that's corny or unbelievable, then of course you're not going to like musicals."

...

He spent much of those years doing a bunch of badly paid, disparate jobs, which, given his nature, he nevertheless enjoyed. They included working as an English teacher at his former high school. ("I loved my curriculum. The class was exhilarating once I realised the less I talked, the more they learnt. I saw a future in which I taught at my old high school for 30 years and was very happy.") He wrote for a local paper as a columnist and restaurant reviewer. ("What kind of restaurant reviewer was I? Not very discriminating. If a new restaurant opened, I would go and eat some stuff and say, 'Hey, we have a Thai restaurant. I get to eat first at it. This is great!' ") And he made guest appearances on a number of TV shows including The Sopranos and House. What kind of roles was he being offered at the time? "I wasn't getting any roles! I was always the Latino friend of the white guy in the lead. And so centring ourselves in the drama, telling our own stories, is a big part of In the Heights, my first musical."

An unexpected thing about meeting Miranda is how instinctively he turns to the topic of his first musical, In the Heights, rather than Hamilton - not least when he talks about how he spent one month each year as a child with his grandparents in Vega Alta, Puerto Rico, and was inspired by the gap between his worlds. "In Puerto Rico we were doctors and lawyers. And we're cabbies in New York; we're for the most part the poorer segment of society, and on TV we were always thieves and we were always the Sharks. In the Heights was a response to that. It was, 'Are we allowed to be on stage without having a knife in our hands?' " But then he has spent part of the summer filming a movie version of that musical, which is set over the course of three days, involving characters in the largely Hispanic-American neighbourhood. It is also the project that changed his life most dramatically. The more recent success of Hamilton rather eclipses the fact that his first show, which he began writing in the late Nineties when he was still a student at Wesleyan University, Connecticut, was also wildly successful. After success off-Broadway, the musical went to Broadway, opening in March 2008 and ending up being nominated for 13 Tony awards, winning four, including best musical and best original score.

...

Miranda, described as "a fantasy of the Obama era", has since been active in politics, lobbying and fundraising for Puerto Rico and performing with Ben Platt at the March for Our Lives anti-gun-violence rally in Washington DC on March 24, 2018. Does he feel demoralised by the drift of politics to the far right? "The thing about us all being connected online is that you can read all of the worst news from all over the world and be overwhelmed. You can't let it all in; just act on what you can act on." Should Trump be ignored or fought every step of the way? "It's hard to even discuss it, right, because Trump will have outraged us on two new things in the next [few hours], as soon as he wakes up, and it won't be relevant by the time we're having this conversation. And the same with Brexit, which is just as uncertain."

What did he make of Trump's revival of the phrase "Get back to where you came from" in relation to Democrat politicians? "It's unacceptable. Just because he said it doesn't mean it's acceptable." He leans back in his seat. "Here's my fear of getting into this with you: every time I've done a UK interview, I've said incredible shit and Trump's always the headline, even if I've only said two lines about it. So I'm happy to talk about it, but I'm really scared it's going to be the headline."

I risk another question. Would Miranda ever run for office? "It's funny - I remember when I was a teenager, my dad got approached by pretty serious people about running for a state Senate seat, and he said no. I asked, 'Why?' He said, 'I don't want to have to watch my mouth.' And for me, it's similar. I also have seen in my life, first-hand, the people who get addicted to running, and it's like their moment passed, but they're still running for something, because they're chasing that thrill of winning, and it's about much more than representing the constituents. I would never want to get stuck in that cycle or that pattern. It's more fun writing songs than doing any of that."

Read the rest here behind the Times paywall.

[grim-on-the-darkside]

George Lucas involvement in The Clone Wars Series

This subject is being talked about by some here on Tumblr, so I thought I’d break open my Star Wars Quote files and share what I could to facilitate others who are already in discussions about it. I hope this aids them in that.

That said, Ohh boy, here we go. =]

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

"This series [Clone Wars Series] at least to George is NOT EU, it is a part of Star Wars as he sees it. I think if anything there was a period where Henry [Gilroy] and I had to learn exactly what it took to be a part of George Lucas’ Star Wars, and tell the Star Wars story his way. We had to learn how to look at the Galaxy from his point of view and let go of some of what we considered canon after we found out the ideas were only EU." ~  Dave Filoni 2008

----

"This is Star Wars, and I don't make a distinction between [The Clone Wars] series and the films." ~ George Lucas, SciFiNow, October 2011

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

"The TV series is exactly like the movies, exactly. I mean, you can see it in the clip. It’s basically just the movies only with cartoon characters. It’s basically a dramatic series, there’s a lot of action, a bit of humor." ~ George Lucas, 2008 Interview about the Clone Wars series.

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

One of the main characters in the feature film, a 90 minute introduction to the series that hits theaters August 15, is Anakin's teenage Padawan, Ahsoka. Lucas said:

   "[With Ahsoka] I wanted to develop a character who would help Anakin settle down. He's a wild child after [Attack of the Clones]. He and Obi Wan don't get along. So we wanted to look at how Anakin and Ahsoka become friends, partners, a team. When you become a parent or you become a teacher you have to become more respnsible. I wanted to force Anakin into that role of responsibility, into that juxtaposition. I have a couple of daughters so I have experience with that situation. I said instead of a guy let's make her a girl. Teenage girls are just as hard to deal with as teenage boys are."

~ George Lucas 2008

https://io9.gizmodo.com/george-lucas-spills-all-about-clone-wars-at-skywalker-r-5033398

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

"I get all my information on the Clone Wars from him. [George Lucas]"

"I can pitch him ideas and say 'lets do certain things', but at the end of the say he will say 'yes' or he will say 'no', and than that is the way it's gonna go."

~ Dave Filoni, 2019

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

"The importance of The Clone Wars that cannot be understated is that it was the last huge expansion of the Star Wars universe that came directly from George Lucas." ~ Pablo Hidalgo

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

"Star Wars: The Clone Wars is the biggest education on how George Lucas saw his Universe. Over 44 hours of his storytelling compared to the 13 hours or so he spent in live action."

~ Pablo Hidalgo 2018 https://ibb.co/ryvk5K2

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

DAVE FILONI: The First Time George Lucas Talked About Ahsoka https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VAjnLseHQwA

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

"In discussions directly with George, he was very adamant about Jango not being Mandolorian, which is the entire reason that scene existed that moment. To have that specificity that Jango was not Mandolorian at least not to Mandolorians."

~ Dave Filoni, 2019 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H6p9sM7OLFk https://ibb.co/WgCGf1X https://ibb.co/Y2wLHd0

FROM THE FILONI FILES: In the season 2 episode of STAR WARS: THE CLONE WARS, Mandalorian prime minister Almec made the claim that Jango Fett is not a Mandalorian warrior. This info stunned many fans who always assumed he was pure Mando. Many claimed Almec was lying, others claimed it was a cover-up. This topic came up a few times during our conversations with Dave Filoni. In this compilation, Dave addresses the issue and sets the record straight.

https://ibb.co/x7j5BhK

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

This of course resulted in massive retcons of the Expanded Universe version of Mandolorians. This wasn't on accident, this was intentional on Lucas part because he was pissed at some of the liberties and things people in the EU were saying that went against the agreement in allowed the EU to come into existance at all.

Seperate Universes. This wasn’t figurative, this was meant literally, and Lucas said it over and over. Plus he found out they were using the term  'canon' in reference to EU things, and that was a massive no no. Only his direct works were canon. This went against the agreement he made with Howard Roffman, who really didn't keep his side of the bargain officially. They were essentially lieing and being deceitful about the EU's standing. That whole Canon Tier, that wasn't a policy, that was the filing system Leland Chee used for the Holocron. It was only used by Lucas Licensing. It was all a big shame to make people think the EU had more standing in the SWs than it did by the legitimate agreement. Roffman was concerned that if people knew it was a separate universe and it wasn't canon that they would be less likely to spend their money on it because 'it didn't count'.

Roffman couldn't get Lucas to agree to it being one universe, he tried over and over again, but Lucas wasn't having it. This was behind closed doors at the time of course, Roffman comes clean about in a live broadcasted interview with a studio audience when taking questions.

They couldn't get Lucas to budge, and Lucas didn't really care about the retcons he might cause, and there was a lot of fighting over it. But, of course, Lucas was the boss and it was his final say. This had been ongoing thing, it wasn’t something happened overnight.

That's why you have accidental retcons of major story lines, opps... He says what is and isn't canon, no one else.  People weren’t following the guidelines he set, and he had been a pretty good sport about it overall. Again, this wasn’t overnight. It built up over time.

There’s some speculation about the specifics, but that there had been many angry words said, back and forth in the background. Roffman and Lucas apparently had a lot of loud conversations.

“So we would have very interesting skirmishes because we had a bunch of stuff that became to the fans pretty much canon [Head-canon] about what happened after Return of the Jedi, what different places in the galaxy were called, lots of different things and if he was proposing to do something in the prequels that contradicted that we would have long debates which usually ended at least after the first session with "I don't care this is what I'm doing", but after he 4th or 5th session sometimes "Alright 'maybe' we can change it this way."

~ Howard Roffman, 2017

[I’ll be sharing more very important quotes from that Interview with Howard Roffman soon.]

A great deal of the time, Lucas wouldn’t budge. The Mandolorian Storyline in The Clone Wars being one such example of that.

This resulted in Karen Traviss losing her mind over the Mandolorians Lucas made in canon, and she was saying she wouldn't go along with it because they were 'changing canon', which is totally untrue, but she made some public statements about it

"Please also be aware of one basic fact - all writers for a franchise have to follow official canon. You can't go off and do your own thing, or else the book won't get approved and printed. It's that simple. So please don't keep asking me to carry on in the old canon, because I'm just not allowed to."

Karen Traviss EU Author, 2009.

[This is what insanity looks like when you write it down. - Must follow canon, but wont let me carry on in the old Canon? Earth to Karen, please respond. The EU wasn’t canon!! ]

So Lucas shot back thru his head writer on the Clone Wars series, Henry Gilroy whom himself had been an EU author in the Clone Wars comics before being tapped for Canon Clone Wars series who responded, although not directly to her, but in response to her being unwilling to go on and leaving over it.

"It is unfortunate that [EU author Karen Traviss is] moving on because [of] her opinion that canon is being changed. I guess the big problem is the assumption that her work is canon in the first place.  After working with George on The Clone Wars series I know there are elements of her work that are not in line with his vision of Star Wars.."

~ Henry Gilroy, The Clone Wars series Head Writer/ EU Author [Comics] 2009

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

To Lucas, the entire Saga is about Anakin Skywalker/ Darth Vader, of course he was going to be heavily involved in the Clone Wars series, Anakin was one of the major reoccuring characters in it, that's Lucas pride and joy. But I digress....

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

“For me and my training here at Lucasfilm, working with George, he and I always thought the Expanded Universe was just that. It was an expanded universe. Basically it’s stories that are really fun and really exciting, but they’re a view on Star Wars, not necessarily canon to him. That was the way it was from the day I walked into Lucasfilm with him all through Clone Wars, everything we worked on, he felt the Clone Wars series and his movies were what was actually the reality of it all, the canon..."

~ Dave Filoni 2017

---------

"In the same interview, Dave Filoni said that George Lucas told him, that the movies and The Clone Wars television series, were the only thing Lucas considered canon." https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Star_Wars_expanded_to_other_media

----------

"That’s one of the biggest debates in Star Wars, what counts? *The idea of what is canon? When I talk to George I know that he considers his movies, this series and his live-action series canon." ~ Dave Filoni, SW:TCW 2008

-----------

"I always think of the research you speak of as what I knew about the EU before I took this job. As I stated above, working directly with George changes the way you see the EU and everything in it."

~ Dave Filoni 2008

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

What do you think about Star Wars: The Clone Wars not following the continuity established previously in books and comics for the timeline between Episodes II and III? Could all those events that are being unfolded ever be folded into a coherent timeline? Some time ago you started a podcast related to The Clone Wars, will there ever be new episodes?

"As far as continuity, I see The Clone Wars as being no different than the arrival of the prequels in 1999. We fans knew that those movies would be a representation of the true Star Wars universe as imagined by George Lucas, and in some cases, it would not perfectly match the stories told by Expanded Universe authors. So, we had to unlearn all we had learned about the Mon Calamari being discovered by the Empire, about Boba Fett being Jaster Mereel, and about the Republic having a standing military.

I think with each episode, we start to get a better understanding about what the real Star Wars universe is like."

Pablo Hidalgo 2010

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

"There's this notion that everything changed when everything became Legends. And I can see why people think that. But, you know, having worked with George I can tell you that it was always very clear -- and he made it very clear -- that the films and the TV shows were the only things that he considered Canon. That was it.

"So everything else was a world of fun ideas, exciting characters, great possibilities, the EU was created to explore all those things. But from the filmmaking world I was brought into, the films and TV shows were it". ~ Dave Filoni speaking about working with George Lucas

This is the actual video of when Dave Filoni said the above quotes during an interview on 'The Star Wars show' [41.40 mark] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcNXPNXOv2A&t=16s

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

"What George did with the films and The Clone Wars was pretty much *his universe ,” Chee said. “He didn’t really have that much concern for what we were doing in the books and games. So the Expanded Universe was very much separate." ~ Leland Chee, 2017 - SYFY WIRE

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

“Lucas’ canon – and when I say ‘his canon’, I’m talking about what he was doing in the films and what he was doing in The Clone Wars  – was hugely important. But what we were doing in the books really wasn’t on his radar.”

–Leland Chee, 2018

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

Pablo Hidalgo on Lucas and the EU being separate Universes. https://i.redd.it/3fpbkocr43q01.png "He [Lucas] only considers his movies and TV projects as his universe, and told the Clone Wars writers to only worry about those."

[That really says it all.]

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

“The most definitive canon of the Star Wars universe is encompassed by the feature films and television productions in which George Lucas is directly involved. The movies and the Clone Wars television series are what he and his handpicked writers reference when adding cinematic adventures to the Star Wars oeuvre. But Lucas allows for an Expanded Universe that exists parallel to the one he directly oversees. […] Though these [Expanded Universe] stories may get his stamp of approval, they don’t enter his canon unless they are depicted cinematically in one of his projects.”

   -Pablo Hidalgo, Star Wars: The Essential Reader’s Companion, October 2nd, 2012

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

"Canon is only what's on the screen. - Episodes I-VI, TCW and what's to come." Pablo Hidalgo, 2013 - https://ibb.co/S0fYM7q

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

“Working on ‘Clone Wars,’ it was always canon.” ~ Dave Filoni

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

[Orginal commentor] - "Some facebook site just posted a "Bring back GeorgeLucas" petition....wrong on so many levels. With Ep. lll & TCW he went out ona high."

[Pablo Hidalgo]   "Why would he ever come back to these folks? All that love and goodwill from the internet.=]"

[Second commentator] - "I remember the EU fans in the early-mid 00's trashed George endlessly, and now they act like he's their savior."

[Pablo Hidalgo] - *"And yet we are following his model of regarding the EU vs. his canon. Weird."

[Second commentator] - "Well they get the false impression that George was a big EU fan and stood by it."

[Pablo Hidalgo] - "Where do they get this stuff? =] It's like his last 3 movies and six seasons of TCW didn't happen!"

https://ibb.co/Q9GXSbd

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

Q: Hi Mr Chee! I’ve got a question about continuity – are all the various different media of Star Wars (the films, TCW, the video games, the EU) intended to form a single universe, or is the EU intended as a parallel, alternate universe (like, for example, the different continuities between the various Batman comics and films)? I realise that fans tend to each have their own personal preferences, but I was wondering what the official Lucasfilm company policy regarding this was? Many thanks!

"The dual universe question comes up often. I know George Lucas has mentioned it being two universes, but that’s not how I see it. His vision is definitely not beholden to ours, but ours is definitely beholden to his."

Leland Chee 2012

[Nabbed!!! He was still talking his 'singular universe' garbage the week before heh]

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

“Star Wars continuity, even EU continuity, does not rest on my shoulders. Our licensees submit product directly to either our editors or our product development managers. The Holocron serves as a tool for them to check any issues regarding continuity, and after that, if the editors or developers have any questions, they pass it along to me to check for continuity. At the same time, I am constantly on the lookout to make sure that any new continuity being created gets entered in the Holocron. With regard to the the films and The Clone Wars, I am not involved in continuity approvals though I have often been asked to provide reference material.”

~ Leland Chee

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

"..at the end of the day there is a difference between what you see in the Star Wars films and TV series and what you see in those books." ~ Dave Filoni 2012

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

These are pretty much all about the Clone Wars series, and him working with Lucas on it.

DAVE FILONI: George Lucas's Origin of "Mandalore" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4yCjKTHjE0I&t=270s

DAVE FILONI: Is Jango Fett A Mandalorian? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fPw08Bimr0Y&t=80s

DAVE FILONI: Working with George Lucas on The Clone Wars https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaq8jRVtfnQ

DAVE FILONI: Incorporating Mandalorians Into The Clone Wars https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=whHJc3jX2AE

DAVE FILONI: Learning Star Wars from Lucas https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zG_yLWLdDdQ

[This one is interesting, *if I remember it correctly* in this one he tells the story of how he and Henry Gilroy and Lucas were speaking and Lucas was telling them how things work and he told them that "He was teaching them how to make Star Wars for when he was gone".]

DAVE FILONI: Ahsoka vs Vader Duel Breakdown https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=196kd-UvGEM

DAVE FILONI: Growing Up With Star Wars https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xB0tMecj51s

Dave Filoni on Ashoka vs Vader and Midi-Chlorians - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rBKQfbN7Vaw

These are just some of them, there are alot more and even in ones where it doesn't specifically site Lucas in the title, he comes up in all of them at certain points and talks about working with Lucas on the Clone Wars, so if your interested in this subject, it really pays to listem to all of them, they're facisinating insights and you learn so much about so many things both in story and out of story, some really good stuff.

They're call ins for Rebel Force Radio, They interview Filoni constantly, theres a ton of of them on Youtube. This should get you started and than you can go from there on your own if you were interested and hearing more. Really good stuff.

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

There’s a lot more, but I think this should serve as a good example of just how pervasive Lucas’ direct involvement in the Clone Wars series was.

Lucas loved it. He saw it exactly like the movies in terms of importance.

[modernidolater]

What is Bubblegum Chaos magic?

Basically, i coined the term bubblegum chaos to describe a kind of relentlessly cheerful, slapdash, anything goes kind of practice that relies a lot on modern convenience and bypassing the kind of initiatory, set paths that a lot of practices have. Essentially, i slapped a name on what i do in order to better defend it from people that were down on me. So how does it work? Everything starts and ends with three components: belief, will, and focus.

Belief is key

I know it sounds silly to say that, because of course you have to believe in what you're doing, no? But that's not what i'm saying. Belief is a tool, a power source to be tapped into and used. It genuinely doesn't matter what you believe, or even that you personally believe in it. You can use anything at all. You can tap into a construct that other people create and maintain rather than dedicating yourself to one. I use heretical xtianity, a bit of Lovecraft, tarot, and whatever else comes to hand as i need it.

Now, this is not to say go plunder closed cultures. They're closed. Don't do that.

But if it's open and freely available, grab and go. What works for you is what works. You can use ancient culture, pop culture, any culture or no culture. Just pick a structure or point of belief and mine it for power. Shiny rocks? Deities? Angels? Demons? The monsters from your favorite video game? Herbs? Candles? Emojis? Have at it! As long as there's belief in there somewhere, you have a source of power to work with.

Will

Will is, bluntly, your ability to make a think happen. Belief is the battery will is the toy car. One without the other is useless. You can have a thousand batteries but if you never put them in a vehicle to release their power, nothing will ever happen. And a vehicle without power goes nowhere.

Belief can be mined, but will is built. The most basic manifestation of will is applied want. You want a drink of the coke in front of you, so you reach for it. It's not conscious. You just do it. The stronger your will, the more you can do. Confidence comes in time, but meditation and study can help a lot. After all, the more belief you have, the easier it is to focus your will, because you already believe you can.

Focus

Speaking of focus, focus is just that. Your ability to aim your will and belief. In the toy car analogy, focus is the remote. Focus can be meditation, affirmations, a full ritual, a hand gesture with will and believe behind it, a collection of emojis that speak to you and call out for you. Whatever. If you put time and effort into it, focus will channel will effectively.

Now, this is not a knock on me and my fellow spoonies that can't focus for shit. That's what tools are for. But at the end of the day, research builds focus. Thinking closely about something builds focus. Talking about something builds focus. Writing about it, acting it out, whatever. You wanna do a spell but can't focus for more than a minute or two? Spend time here and there thinking about how to do things fast with a burst of focus and the accumulated focus can act as a foundation. By the time you actually do a spell, you already spent a bunch of time thinking over the mechanics and then you just...do it.

Why does it work that way?

Well, one of my core beliefs is that everything is sort of a vibration in a massive energy field. Vibrate one way, you get solid matter. Vibrate at a different frequency, you get a soul, lightning, a god, a demon. And that field of energy is susceptible to energetic interference. If you gather energy and release it, you send of waves, ripples, that modify what they roll over. Enough small modifications and probabilities start to change, and then things get wild. Belief is a vast, open energy that people dump countless hours, vast amounts of effort, and huge amounts if focus and will into. And you can take a piece of that and shape it and toss it out to create the ripples you want.

What can i do with it?

I tend to follow a rule of do what you want, but don't be a dick. Don't punch down. Don't push to extremes without limit or respect for consequence. I won't cast to kill and i won't engage in mind control. The first cause a) then i killed someone, and b) making them suffer is more fun, and the second because mind control, both mystical and brute force brainwashing, were used on me as a kid. But yanno. Do you. Just respect the consequences.

And i don't mean a nebulous blast back of bafmd things. You bend someone's brain, you're responsible for what happens. I have had many people ask me how to bend a brain, and i wouldn't tell em, and then a few weeks later they're back desperately trying to figure out how to take it back.

You kill someone, that's it. It's over. It's a very final solution. Be damn sure you can handle it and have nothing else going.

But at the end of the day, do what you want, and don't be a dick about it. By which i mean don't fuck people up needlessly. (Full disclosure: i was a dick for a long loooooong time. Don't be me, lol.)

The Stuff

We all like looking at pretty wands, tarot decks, rocks, herbs, pendulums, athames, chalices, all that jazz. And it is absolutely fine to use them. They act as placeholders, giving you a concrete focus for an action that relieves your mind to focus on other things, like making Janice in accounting pay for drinking your Red Bull.

But to be clear, they're just placeholders. There are beliefs around them that give them power, they point the energy well, but you don't need them. You can do everything with your mind and your will and some energy. I'm very fond of energy slinging cause it takes nothing, i always have it to hand, and i can zap people without trying too hard. Again, use them, please do, they help a looot. But they're dumbo's feather. The power, to be cliche, is you, not the shiny rock or the pretty cup. And at the end of the day, a butter knife, birthday candles, and a solo cup will do the job just as well as an athame, candles, and chalice that cost more.  

But i am an ancestral witch from days of yore! No one can do the spoopy things without the genetic spoop juice!

No. Pls cease immediately.

Literally everyone can do this. The elitism of magic is in the systems and the secrets. So make your own system and keep your own secrets if you like. I have gifts, several, but they're not essential and i've taught whole rooms of aura blind people to sling energy in under an hour. There is literally no barriers to entry. You wanna do magic? Do the damn magic.

Where can i learn more?

Read a lot. If everything is useful and very little si forbidden, just start grabbing stuff that looks good and mashing it together. I read endlessly, not just magic texts, but fiction too. People but belief and focus and will into their fiction, and the ideas and systems there can inspire me. Just learn and grow in whatever directions you can and you'll be fine.

Oh and check back here now and again, i have ideas.

This has been your intro to bubblegum chaos magic. Thanks for reading!

[caffeineivore]

R/J for BAMF

Because @apsaraqueen is responsible for like 90% of the R/J I write anyway so, you know?

Spiritverse, R/J, possibly rated PG13

**

FINALLY leaving for home now, how about you?

I suppose you wouldn’t want any company on the trip back? You HAVE been burning the midnight oil, hmm?

Oh, very literally, yes. But I’ll see you at the bridge in a bit!

The texts had started earlier that day, when she had first arrived at her Grandfather’s. Jareth had been in Manhattan, finalizing the project that he’d been working on, moving a Stone-Hewn from atop a crumbling church slated for demolition. He’d asked for her help-- her lineage was an old and established one in the city-- and it had been in her grandfather’s name that a new and quite-elegant-looking statue of a knight on a rearing steed had been donated to Central Park and installed in a shady corner. The Iele, Linden Thorne, had thanked him profusely, then kept vigil after he’d left, awaiting the moment her knight would awaken in his new home. Undoubtedly, she was just as eager to see her beloved as he was to see his.

That thought put a grin that he was quite certain was both obvious and wry on his face. 

Ember walks briskly but gracefully, dark coat and dark skirts and dark hair, but today, perhaps in honour of the Imbolc celebration, there is a silk scarf tied at a jaunty angle on her neck, cardinal-red with a milk-white fringe. She looks up and smiles when she catches sight of him, and reaches out a slim hand, which he uses to pull her close. 

The wind swirls her midnight hair around the both of them, and he pulls away after a too-brief moment of breathing in the scent of snowfall and scrying smoke and sandalwood. “You smell good.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, but then laughs softly even as her fingers twine with his. “I’ve spent the vast majority of this evening making candles for Imbolc. Lots of essential oils and herbs involved in the process, you know?”

She tells him of the traditional rites-- the weaving of crosses from the rushes, the making and lighting of spell candles, the feast to honour the goddess Brighid and entreat the gods for a mild spring. The bridge is not crowded at this late hour, and so they take their time crossing it, all the bright lights of Manhattan glistening in the background against an inky sky. 

“I love crossing the bridge at this hour, when it’s not full of people rushing from one place to another,” Ember pauses and glances back at the city skyline. “It’s sometimes a bit trying to be around a bunch of people who are all in a hurry and have a great deal on their minds.”

Jareth can imagine that well enough; anyone with even a touch of the empath or the clairvoyant would likely find crowds tiresome, and his wise woman has more than her share of those gifts. But neither would she expect pity-- Ember was nothing if not conscientious, and certainly ascribed to the notion that with great power came great responsibility. But he would see her smile again, if he could arrange it. “I will admit, one of my first times crossing the bridge was at the hour of quarter-of-four in the morning, alongside my kin. It was utterly deserted. And I may have climbed to the very top, ‘for the hell of it’, as they say.” At the look she shoots him, he grins. “’Tis not so different from climbing a tree. If anything, because of the building materials and the cables, it’s actually sturdier.”

Much to his gratification, this declaration does elicit a faint giggle out of her. “And what did your friends have to say about that, if I may be so bold as to ask?” She’d met Aeson and Aelene perhaps two weeks ago, when they’d planned out the moving of the Stone-Hewn over dinner and drinks, and though he’d endured a bit of gentle teasing from both of them, Jareth was quite certain that his friends had liked her well enough. 

He affects a preternaturally solemn expression. “Well, certainly, Aelene scolded me for sporting around excessively. And I’m quite sure I would have taken her more seriously if it weren’t for the fact that she herself has been known to cross town by rooftops rather than streets if the traffic is extra heavy. To be fair, we’ve all been guilty. Especially during rush-hour.”

The giggle becomes a full-on laugh. “Show-off.” She swats him lightly on the arm, but for all that, he’s pleased to see the merriment twinkling in her violet eyes. “I can’t judge, though. Grandfather amused himself last week by putting a faint levitation charm on his neighbour’s welcome mat. Not enough of one to cause any true alarm, but just enough to give the fellow the sensation of taking a step up for a few seconds even when he remained on level ground. That man’s got two months before April Fool’s Day and I don’t even want to contemplate what types of shenanigans he may get up to then.”

It’s a few minutes to midnight by the time they reach Jane’s Carousel on the other side of the bridge, and with a delightfully mischievous smile, Ember gives his hand a tug towards the unlit structure. “Come on!” A snap of her fingers and it comes to life, lights winking on and horses spinning slowly in a circle. She doesn’t spell on the music, though, likely in consideration of anyone who might be sleeping in hearing range. 

Her skirts are slightly too long to suit sitting astride on even a carousel horse, but Ember perches gracefully enough on the back of a dappled grey like a Regency-era lady on side-saddle. Half-enchanted, half-amused, he stands at her side as the carousel makes its circuit, one hand steady at the small of her back. She has one hand wrapped around the pole attached to the horse, but with an airy wave of the other, the air fills with rainbowy soap bubbles and glittery red firework sparks. Her eyes meet his as the carousel slows and gradually comes to a stop, and he thinks for a moment he can see a hint of the sweet, intrepid little girl she might have been, sometime in the distant past, before she’d understood the portent of her gifts. 

“I have never actually ridden this carousel before,” she says as she steps off the colourful structure, its lights fading behind the two of them. “I was grown up by the time it was built, of course. But life’s hardly worth living if one can’t trade off several hours of duty for a few moments of frivolity once in a great while, hmm?” A wry smile crosses her lovely lips. “I daresay I haven’t, perhaps, engaged in as much merry-making as my grandfather is wont to do nowadays. But every so often...”

He can’t quite resist the temptation to kiss her mouth, curved as it is in a smile, but keeps it gentle and brief. She glances at him through a fringe of sooty eyelashes as they make their way down the street. “I think I remember this street-- your friend Angela brought me to your place after I met her.”

“So she did,” Jareth nods. “She invited the both of you up for wine and sympathy after the ordeal of that evening. I suppose I could repeat that invitation.”

She had not been there since that day Angela had brought her-- indeed, it had always seemed more appropriate to see her safely home after meeting with her than bringing her to his place. But when he unlocks the doors, she looks around with avid interest. His loft is rather less luxurious than hers, but airy and spacious, with vaulted ceilings and buffed wooden floors. 

“It’s interesting how one can get a fairly true idea of another’s nature by visiting their home.” Ember accepts a glass of wine from him and takes a slow sip even as she makes herself comfortable. “Pale walls and plentiful greenery, windows that let in natural light. You display your bows and knives within easy reach, but elegantly so, not in a threatening way.” There is an intricately cast Medieval diptych in bronze on one wall-- love and war. On another is a Salish wall hanging. Over the mantel is a striking black-and-white photograph of the Manhattan skyline. “I can see where you’ve been, through the art you’ve collected. Perhaps even a bit of friends you might have made along the way.” Setting down her empty glass, she stands, pulling something out of her pocket, and beckons him to follow as she walks towards the mantel.

“It’s a Brighid’s cross and a candle for your hearth, such as it is,” Ember ties on the little rush-woven amulet to a nail. The candle is pale beeswax flecked with the mossy green of herbs, and when she lights it, the scent is redolent with something sweet and slightly herbacious. “Basil and blackberry for love and protection. Blessed be, Jareth Sylvane.” Reaching up, she lays her hands gently on his face, pulls him down for a kiss. 

Ember the witch, with her tarot cards and her rune stones. Ember the warrior, running to Angela’s aid against an armed mugger, dashing across Central Park to find a child before she drowned. Ember the woman-- thoughtful, quietly strong-willed and surprisingly sweet at the oddest moments, multi-faceted and fascinating and so beautiful sometimes that his heart ached with it. “I have all the love and protection I need wherever and whenever I am with you,” he tells her softly as he draws back far enough to look into her eyes, blue to violet. Those words are not ones that his kind ever bandy about lightly, but somehow, saying them to her is as easy as breathing. 

Her expression is soft as this late, quiet hour and solemn as his unspoken vow. The Ælf-kine lack a bit of humanity’s curiosity and evanescent interest in others, and to profess love for another is not only a statement of regard but of intent and eternal fidelity. She knows it, too, and stands back just far enough to take his hands in hers. Her fingers are warm and the crackle of power vibrates against his skin like static electricity, and though she whispers them, he hears every word of her promise in return in the incantation as the candle burns to its base in a flickering ball of golden light.

“By candleflame’s light I vow to thee-- Faithful as the tides of the moonlit sea, The shelter of my living heart is thine, May all thy joys and sorrows be as mine.”

She lets her breath escape with that last word on a soft exhale, then smiles tremulously up at him. “An’ as I will it, so mote it be.” The spell undoubtedly carries great power, but it doesn’t feel heavy or portentous at all, and simply fills the air with a comforting warmth. He can’t resist drawing her close again, but now when she presses her lips to his, there’s a frission of heat and sweetness stronger and far more profound. He’d certainly been aware of her beauty before-- the graceful balance of her features, the low harmony of her voice, but it’s a different, more primal awareness now, as though his very nerves and veins tingle with the way the scent of her skin warms the closer her holds her, the way her lips taste like cabernet sauvignon and chamomile tea. Her fingers trace a pattern-- probably a rune of protection, knowing his love’s careful heart, down his nape, then slide down to his back to brush against bare skin underneath the hem of his sweater. His breath catches even as he traces the shape of her jaw, the length of her neck with his lips. Her head tilts back on a moan, and those beautiful eyes, fiery-dark now as the edge of twilight, meet his. 

“Jareth, please tell me you have a bed in here somewhere.”

He does, and he seldom makes use of it, but now he lifts her up in his arms, ascends the shallow steps which lead upstairs. Even with his fleet-footedness, the trek up is slow, as they stop every few steps to kiss, to touch warm skin with fingers that quiver with wonder. He lands on his back on the white sheets and tugs her down over him, neither of them quite so graceful now, and fills his hands with fragrant skeins of her raven hair even as her own fingers fiddle with the fastenings of his clothes. 

It’s much later that he watches the sky lighten from black to indigo just as the sun is about to rise. Next to him, Ember sleeps soundly, dark hair spilled over white shoulders. Through the course of the night, she’d shifted to take over more than half the bed, and it’s certainly a different experience resting with another body lying half-sprawled over one’s own, warm and supple with breaths that tickled his skin. 

And yet, those few half-wakeful, half-dreaming hours, feeling her heartbeat soft and steady against his own flesh, lulled by the scent of her hair and the faint sounds of her breathing, were the greatest rest he’d ever known. 

[coldtomyflash]

Weird question, and it's perfectly okay if "I don't know" is your answer: How did you manage to do grad school AND finish writing so many good fics? I'm writing the lit review for my dissertation right now, and I want to finish several WIPs I have (if nothing else, just to prove to myself that I can), but it just feels like I can barely do either, much less both. Any advice at all?

Ah, no worries! It’s not that odd a question. Actually, someone’s asked me before ^^;  My reply to them at the time was here. No need to read it, but it’s some context? 

My reply now that my head is in a healthier place is... long and winding and not actually full of that much advice but eh, I rambled as I do. If you just want the advice, scroll all the way down and it’s there. 

For starters, I’m not a normal comparison point. This isn’t to pat myself on the back, but for a variety of reasons, writing is something that comes really naturally to me. I’ll detail those reasons, but before I get into that, the point I’m illustrating here is that... sometimes I think people compare themselves to how much I wrote and what else I accomplished in that time and think “hey cool - that is a function human! Why can’t I do that?” And the answer is short answer is that my brain is programmed for pretty much one thing, and that thing is writing writing, and holy crap I was the opposite of a functional human when writing that much and that quickly.

The long answer is - 

I’ve been making up stories literally as long as I can remember. I spent my childhood consuming stories. I taught myself to read and was during school I was consistently reading about 8 grade levels above my reading level, and loved learning about narrative structure. I annoyed the shit out of my older brother by reading the same book series as he read, but guessing plot points that were going to happen either in that book or else 2-3 books out. he didn’t get how I would just know and I’d be like “it’s obvious - that’s where the story has to go!” Because I was imagining it in my head - what i would do with it, where it would go, where it had to go. Closing the page mid0chapter and imagining the next-scene, and then picking back up to see how right or wrong I was.

And I had a best friend for most of my childhood through to early adulthood with whom I made stories. Every weekend, creating narratives together, not writing them down but basically roleplaying them by talking them out (voices and all, it was a heck of a lot of fun, as much as it made me pretty much the nerdiest teen in existence). We tried to write a novel when we were 12, got about 7 chapters in. We had a lot of starts and stops on other stories too.

Which isn’t said to stroke my own ego, it’s said to highlight that I have a metric fuckton of explicit and implicit practice at storytelling. It was and sort of is my “whole life”. I also had teachers that helped me develop storytelling skills, and was really freaking lucky to go to a school with an AP program for English that seriously stretched my ability to write fast. We had to write an essay every single class, during class, and have it finished by the end of class (or in less time if we had lecture stuff to go over too) in my last year of high school. The essays could be creative response (i.e., short stories). I wrote a short story almost every week in the space of an hour when I was 17. By the time I got to the end of year final and actually got to use a computer and type that shit instead of hand-cramping halfway through, I somehow managed to write the two-essay final in the allotted 3 hours and, i shit you not, had a wordcount of 6000 words. 

That’s still my record. It was probably a dumpster fire but I got 100% probably for sheer volume.

Anyway that was over a decade ago, but the whole reason this life story is pertinent is because - 

I have practice. The only way to improve at anything, to get faster at it, for it to ease, is to practice. Practice at storytelling, practice at having to set a scene using just words sitting in my BFF’s room and trying to describe the image I had in my head for how I wanted her to see the scene as it was playing out. Practice at writing fast and getting feedback on how to write. Practice implicitly at trying to imagine what routes stories can take. Practice taking stories apart and piecing them back together, in my head, all the time.

So that’s part of it. 

The other part, and this is what I said in my previous post, was depression. I was seriously fucking burnt out and depressed when I started writing coldflash fic, and grad school took a huge toll on my mental health. It’s easier to write when you’re doing it to procrastinate working on your dissertation, and easier to keep writing when you get positive feedback and it feeds those lovely dopamine gremlins in your brain who aren’t getting any positive validation from grad school because holy damn that shit is hard.

I had no balance in my life for a long time. It wasn’t good. I went to counselling. I got more balance. Fic slowed down. Still finished, but not 120k words in 3 months (that was the pace when I started fic writing...jfc I don’t know how I managed.) Life got harder. Fic was now harder to write. I got more counselling. Fic was easier to write. I moved around the world. Fic got harder to write. I started anti-depressants. Narratives now seem to be flowing again. 

Regardless of the state of my mental health though, I’ve never written as much as quickly as I did during the middle of grad school. And I think that’s because I was very narratively pent up when I started writing fic. I had been so busy and pushing myself so damn hard in grad school that I didn’t make almost any time for stories, for fic, for imagining my own stories. I was suppressing that side of myself in the service of Focus. So when I burnt out, my narrative side rebounded and said “fuck that noise, I still exist, and we’re making space for me”. It took over. I came literally a hair’s breadth from quitting my PhD post candidacy. Idk what type of program you’re in, but business schools in North America? It’s a 5 year PhD typically, and I was at the end of year 3 and eyeing the door.

Anyway - I say all that because - 

I am not a good example and you should not do what I did. Finishing that many long WIPs that quickly wasn’t healthy, and was only possible because I didn’t do much else at the time, and had a lifetime of practice and a narrative rebound to make it even possible. 

But - 

My actual advice?

1) Practice. Practice. Practice. 

Not all at once, but everything counts. Daydreaming counts. Watching shows and thinking of how they could be improved counts. Talking out story ideas with friends counts. Just make it fun. Practice is something we think of as arduous and annoying. Learning new words is practice. Meeting new people and considering their traits is practice. Everything can be practice for writing. All the research you do can be practice for writing. (Random note: a childhood coping mechanism for anxiety that I had was to narrate what I was doing to myself in my head in the 3rd person. Like telling a story of myself walking to gym class in my own head. That was also practice.)

2) Have fun with it! 

Don’t making writing an obligation. Then it’s another thing on the list of things you avoid. Finishing stories often feels like an obligation. I’m going through this right now with Needs Must. It can be hard to complete a WIP because you start to have internal anxieties about disappointing readers, not living up to expectations, exhaustion from that narrative, distraction / temporary loss of interest (which is normal! and not actually a bad thing!). All of that then makes you feel guilty, which makes it impossible to get into a creative space to write. You can’t work on the thing you’re avoiding.

3) It’s okay to give your WIPs breathing space. 

When you hit a wall, you may need to set it aside and read it again in a month with fresh eyes. You may need to treat your story like someone else’s story. That’s, again, literally where I’m at right now with Needs Must. I just reread a bunch of it and hadn’t really forgotten the details but once they’re on the page they’re out of my head, and so taking some time before going back to reread it made it easier for me to think of like I think of every other story: “what would I do next with this? Oh that’s a twist, that needs to come back later. There’s a theme here, we’ve seen that three times. What’s the best ending I, as a reader now, can imagine for this?”

If avoidance, guilt, and/or writer’s block aren’t your issue, and it’s literally just down to time management - 

4) Your graduate degree is more important than your WIPs. 

Your WIPs aren’t going anywhere, they don’t have a deadline, and your readers will wait for you, and new ones will find you. Time management is an essential, awful, part of being an academic. 

I get more done, both at work and creatively on fic, when I’m just a bit too busy, but that’s me. Figure out what is optimal for you, and do it. When do you get the most writing done? When you’re relieved? When you’re anxious? Late at night? First thing in the morning? When does it flow? When won’t it ruin your graduate career?

(Seriously I was writing fic at work last week and was kicking myself. I don’t have time for that shit! Set boundaries on your time!)

But full serious here, graduate school is exhausting, and almost inherently de-motivating, and even the best damn students eye the door a lot of the time, even if they do finish. It’s stressful and you feel constantly powerless. It’s a lot to need to cope with. I found writing to be a way to cope. That lit review you’re working on? Yeah, it’s zapping your time and energy. That’s normal (unfortunately). And it’s good to give yourself breaks from that to write. Don’t feel guilty for taking time here and there for yourself - to write, or to not write. To relax, unplug, unwind. To close your eyes and daydream (if you’re me) or have a bubble bath (if you’re my sister), or do whatever helps you honestly, genuinely destress. The best thing you can do for both writing and for graduate school is to take breaks and take time for yourself. There is actual science on the importance of breaks, and academics are fucking notorious for putting too much pressure on themselves to actually relax.

5) If you’re burnt out and/or depressed - seek help! 

Most universities have resources for mental health! Talk to a doctor! Don’t put too much stress and pressure on yourself! Almost half of grad students are mentally ill at some point!

6) Talk out your stories with friends! 

I know I already said this under “practice” but having a fandom friend to bounce ideas with and cheer you on is amazing and essentially. I was in constant contact with Bealeciphers when I started writing, and now I have a different friend who’s helped me the past couple years with writing and developing my stories. Mostly they cheer me on, and when I’m stuck, I tell them where the story is going and what I need help with. But honestly, writing doesn’t need to happen in a vacuum and doesn’t need to be you hunched over a laptop in the dark all alone and staring blankly at a screen (I’m definitely not projecting here, no siree). It’s amazing how motivating it is and how much it can help you stay on track to check in regularly with other writing friends!

7) Pick your battles.

You say you have a... couple(?) of WIPs? How many are you juggling? Is it too many? Do you need to set one (or two??) aside? When my steam was slowly and AATJS and Tumbling Together started to feel like a chore, I set TT aside and took a month break from AATJS then dived right back into AATJS (with the help of the friend mentioned above, cheering me on) because I knew it would be the harder one to finish, and the one that I feared I’d never finish if I put it aside too long. I tackled the biggest hurdle first. If that’s the type of thing for you, I recommend it. Pick the story that’s either the most or least likely to get finished, and focus your energy there.

Another battle-picking thing here? It’s okay to outsource. I’m terrible for not using a proofreader beta. It’s a weird control thing, despite the fact that I love people pointing out typos in my works so I can freaking fix them. The point here is: don’t be like me. If you suck at finding your own typos, use a beta or proofreader. My writer friend who helps me helps when I get stuck. I help them when they need feedback on specific scenes and tones, and I’ve recently discovered they hate editing (I love editing) so this entertains me to no end. Just - you don’t have to do it all yourself. If you feel like you do, see points 5 and 6 again.

Aaaannnddd that’s that. Whew. I just spent... wow, too long on this. I spent as much time on this as I did on my own grad student’s lit review I was providing feedback on today ^^; #whoops 

[thepolyorchids]

A bit about each song on The Polyorchids LP

Track 1 of 10: The Lark

This was the first Polyorchids song that didn’t exist prior to the band’s formation. It was sort of an experiment in a different writing style. The first Courtney Barnett album had just come out and I loved the way she wrote these songs made up of super specific and sometimes mundane lyrics that, when added up, made you feel something. Tony’s naturally great at getting specific like that, but I tend to retreat into my own mind and write from that space. I used a simple a two-chord progression I’d been sitting on for years and wrote a blow-by-blow telling of a drive out to a gig Travis, Tony and I played in Willits a few weeks prior. The hills of Lake County had just been burned by a huge fire. On the trip, we met a bunch of nice seasonal weed-trimming folk (plenty of them white dudes w/ dreads, hence the chorus, which was originally just a placeholder but ultimately stuck) and we crashed at a shitbox motel called The Lark. I liked a Joyce Manor song called “Midnight Service at the Mutter Museum” which had a quiet-verse/loud-chorus structure to it. I brought it to the band with that in mind, but couldn’t get Travis to soften the his floor tom hits, only to find that the thumping beat actually made for a better song. From there it found its groove. — Justin

Track 2 of 10: Predisposed

Most of the lyrics and melodies for “Predisposed” were written in 2011. I think for most songwriters it’s easier to say something in a song than it is to say it in real life. This song was written directly to my friend (and sister from another mister) Nicole Putnam. She was and has always been someone that had my back no matter what, no questions asked. This song turned out to be a (WELL-deserved) explanation/Thank You (even though she never asked for either) for all the times in that year she was there for me when I felt like I had no one. It started as an acoustic song (like most Polyorchids songs), I absolutely forgot I EVEN WROTE IT! For me writing becomes sometimes like therapy, so once I finish... I feel better and feel like I can move on a bit. I found and old iPhone in October of 2017. When I checked out the voice memos, this bad boy was on it. It wasn’t totally complete but Justy, Trav and I worked it to be a full band song and it made it to our album. This is also the first time in The Polyorchids history that I sing my own song on the record. — Tony

Track 3 of 10: Dumpster Heap

I wrote the melody for this a few years ago on a miniature kids’ guitar I was fooling around with, but I spent more than a year just humming gibberish to it. Tony and I have had tons of conversations about our feelings about talking politics on social media. On one hand, it’s a cesspool of garbage that brings out the worst in people and diving into it accomplishes essentially nothing, but on the other hand, it’s where we do 90% of our communicating at this point. If we don’t talk about this stuff online, we’re sort of making the decision to not talk about it at all, which isn’t good either. I’ve typed out full responses to Facebook comments only to delete them before posting so as to avoid surrendering my day to a shit show of notifications. This song is about that internal conversation. I wrote a second verse for this after the “grab her by the…” tape came out, but decided it made an evergreen idea too specific. A few months later I started writing ’45’ and realized this 30-second song could exist with just one verse that feeds right into that one. — Justin

Track 4 of 10: 45

The sort of bizarre post-election vibe had given way to the inauguration and now this guy was slapping his Sharpie signature on like five executive orders per day and arguing about crowd sizes. A parade of idiots were marching through Charlottesville with tiki-torches the day I started writing it. I can’t really pull off overtly political lyrics because they feel corny to me about one hour after I write them, but it seemed like a joke that this dude was running things and I felt like trying capture that in some way, because it was inescapable. Jeff Rosenstock’s WORRY had come out a few months earlier and knocked me out. A fast/crazy deep-cut called "Bang on the Door” was my favorite track and I pretty much wanted to jack it and make it my own. The chords and melody for 45 are totally different from that song, but you can tell they’re sort of distant cousins. I only had one verse written, but I showed it to Trav and Tony at the very end of a practice and the “Side! Eyed! Glances!…” intro was so glorious and punchy with the full band. Some songs take work to find their groove. This one was a natural fit right off the bat and we got excited about it. I wrote a second verse and we started playing it at shows. I finished the third verse the night before recording with Pat and our friends Mike and Jake came in to sing gang vocals on the outro. — Justin

Track 5 of 10: Skeletons

Tony wrote this one a few years ago and lost the demo on an old phone (that’s his move) until just a few months before we recorded the album. I’d never heard it prior to that, but I instantly became obsessed with it, even more so than Tony I think. I told him as much, and I even played it a few times at open mics by myself. The song is really just one verse and one chorus… or a looping chorus with one bridge — however you want to put it. I added the guitar riff, which mirrors the melody but gives it something new, and pitched the idea of having Tony and I alternate singing with a louder, shared verse at the end. This is the only time we’ve ever structured a song that way. We recorded this two days before I moved out of California and we had absolutely no time to practice it with Travis. We tracked our instruments to a click track (unlike most Polyorchids songs, which we record live as a full band) and let Pat at Earth Tone play the percussion after the fact — also something we’d never done before. — Justin

Track 6 of 10: Down in the Desert

This song was written after a trip to Arizona for my uncle Jeff’s funeral. My brother and I grew up with our uncle around a ton, bringing us those little popper/snappers and just generally being the best. As we grew older, we came to realize how truly bizarre and fucking hilarious this person was. Eccentric and witty to his absolute core. He joined the Army out of high school and was stationed in Germany, which I think clouds this song in a bit of confusion because “shipped out to Germany…” really sounds like WWII, but it was actually decades later during a peace-time in Germany. My uncle enjoyed room-temperature tall cans of beer — a taste he said he developed during those years in Germany. After the Army, he got into theater and ultimately became a union-carded makeup artist in Hollywood, working on stuff like the sitcom Major Dad and a TV adaptation of the movie Weird Science among many other projects. Before the funeral, my dad received a letter from one of Jeff’s old makeup artist friends/colleagues. He read that full letter at the funeral and it was just about the most real and beautiful thing I’ve heard in my whole life... Just a human being remembering another human being through the specific memories they shared — the kinds of specifics that send you inward to think about your own memories. I cried hard and felt extremely happy at the same time.

The whole extended family stayed at a desert motel that night and passed a couple of tall cans around in a circle and took turns sharing stories. I liked the idea of letting that evening with family be the chorus and Jeff’s life be the verses, so that’s the basic structure of the song. I started the first couple of lines during that road trip to the desert, but the rest came one line at a time over like a half a year. I never hit a wall, but I never hit a groove either. It was a challenge to write, and yet I felt strongly about seeing it through. It wasn’t until I played an almost-finished version for Tony that it became a potential Polyorchids song at his insistence. I played it once at an open mic but the first time we played it live as a band was at Danny Secretion’s Fuck Cancer benefit almost exactly a year later. — Justin

Track 7 of 10: Back off, Warchild

I started this as a sparse and mellow folk song on acoustic guitar, but abandoned it after about a month of frustration over the lyrics. It started as a sort of abstract story about conflict and tension, but I had a hard time keeping it moving. I liked the first verse on its own but didn’t see a path forward. But then we tried it as a band right after the Popgun EP was done while floating some new song ideas. This came right after we’d found some momentum with The Lark, and I got excited about the dynamics of the full band banging it out. It added something new and took some pressure off the lyrics, which I still feel a bit lukewarm about to be totally honest. The binding theme of the song is frustration and tension and negativity. Verse one is childhood, verse two is early adulthood, and verse three is the old age and death. The chorus is sort of an anthemic reveling in that pessimism, which is no way to live but real nonetheless. The one lyric I really love is the chorus line: “...Not our tax brackets not the weather / could pull the graphite out of the letters...” The song title comes from a line in Point Break when Keanu is about to get in a fight at the beach. We spent our teens and 20s camping and boogie boarding at that beach (Leo Carrillo) and rinsing off in those same outdoor showers. — Justin

Track 8 of 10: Low Class Love Song

Low Class Love Song was started in October of 2017. It started out as a baseline I couldn't get outa my head (I'm not 100% sure but I feel like I might have stolen the chords from "runaround sue"). It ended up being a song about the feeling of dating above your class and knowing it's not gonna end well but pursuing it anyway because the pain of a broken heart is worth the experience of sharing some time with that person. Music really is cheaper than a therapist. — Tony

Track 9 of 10: Preachers in Private Jets

This song started as a jam session groove at a practice. Our old band wrote some songs that way, but The Polyorchids never really have. We loved playing it but didn’t know how to treat it because there was no chord progression, just this looping riff. Eventually we added a palm-muted version of the riff and I started yelling nonsense over that part sort of in the style of Fugazi’s Waiting Room. Around that time I saw a video of two televangelist preachers shooting this shit about why God is very pumped about them being super rich. More than half of the lines in this song are lifted almost directly from that YouTube clip. A week before recording, Hurricane Harvey hit Houston and Joel Osteen locked up his megachurch doors, keeping out the affected. That last verse was finished right before recording. The chorus chords were written separately by Tony for a different song, but we were elated to find that they fit right into this one and added a nice melodic part that contrasted the verses and the riff. We took a long time to start playing it live, but Jake from Pisscat nudged us to play it every night of a tour we did together around Lake Tahoe. Pisscat pal Becky wrote it on a set list as Pee Pee Jay one time and I regret not calling it that. From there it felt complete. — Justin

Track 10 of 10: Readiness for Radio

After a life spent not caring either way about Bruce Springsteen, I found my way to his Nebraska album and loved it like many before me. I did the obligatory deep-dive into its origin story: DIY four-track demos that he’d recorded in his basement with plans of doing a proper full-band studio album, only to release the raw demos instead because they served the songs better. I liked the idea of writing something that referenced the themes of the album and its story without ever doing so explicitly. The result, I think, is one of those songs that lets the listener find their own meaning. It’s not an autobiographical song for me, and yet I identify with plenty of it personally. The main chords were adapted out of an old mewithoutyou song. I thought I’d spun them off to be totally unrecognizable, but my brother’s wife Veronica spotted it like four years after I wrote it! If you listen to that band, let me know if you can spot it. I recorded it live in the big drum room at Earth Tone, soaking it in open space and reverb. Pat left the loooong ringing sound of the final chord and then abruptly ended it when I slap the strings shut. I love those final seconds. — Justin

[dailyaudiobible]

04/12/2021 DAB Transcript

Joshua 5:1-7:15, Luke 15:1-32, Psalms 81:1-16, Proverbs 13:1

Today is the 12th day of April welcome to the Daily Audio Bible I'm Brian it is wonderful to be here with you today as we move into this week and get settled and get to work. We’re also getting settled and taking the next step forward in the Scriptures in this adventure that we are on together for a year all the way through the Bible all the way through a year all the way through life together. So, we…we’re getting ourselves moved into the book of Joshua. A couple days ago we began the book of Joshua, which was definitely and is definitely a transition. We crossed the Jordan River in our reading yesterday and it…in our reading anyway, it was the first time we’ve been there in 400 years, more than 400 years, but this time we’ve crossed the Jordan River with the children of Israel with the intention of settling the land, the promised land. And, so, let's dive in. We’re reading from the New English Translation this week. Joshua chapter 5 verse 1 through 7 verse 15.

Commentary:

Okay. So, in the gospel of Luke today we have a very, very famous passage, a famous story or a parable told by Jesus about the lost son who returned. And we know the story, we just read the story, so I don’t have to re-tell the story. And there are so many ways of looking at this story. It's a beautiful story that has been examined from a bunch of angles. I just want to kind of zoom in to the last part of the story because it seems as if one of the main points of the story is that…is that it's all already yours. That is essentially what gets said to the older son who is a little confused and a little ticked off that his…his brother comes home and all the sudden there’s this grand celebration, when this brother, all he did was take half of the assets and go squander them and wild living. And then he comes home, and he has the audacity to come home. And then dad is so excited that he's killing the fattened…like they're throwing a huge party. So, he’s a little bit exasperated and there's this confrontation with the father where he's like, “look I've served…I’ve served you…I’ve served you faithfully. I’ve done what you told me to do. I've obeyed your commands and you never did anything like this for me.” And the father's response, I mean quoting Jesus, the father says to the disgruntled son, “son, you are always with me and everything that belongs to me is yours. It was appropriate to celebrate and be glad for your brother. He was dead and is alive. He was lost and is found.” In other words, the father is saying, “son, it's all already yours.” And in the case of the story the son that had gone off and wild…and lived wild and squandered his resources, he's back alive but he already spent his resources. He's back with his father but everything in the estate belongs to his father and will be passed to the first son because the second son already took his reward and squandered it. So, the father's like, “I'm just glad to have my son back. Everything else is already yours.” The way that this becomes a mirror for us in our own lives is when we put ourselves in that same position. “I've been serving you faithfully. I have obeyed your commands. I have been faithful and loyal to you. And yet I look around and see blessing descending on people who don't deserve it. And you never did anything like that for me.” And you see how we can get into that posture very easily. I bet that even as I'm describing this, we can think of situations that are currently in our lives or have been in our lives we’re we’ve felt that way. And, so, it might help us when we find ourselves in this kind of tired out weary worn-out situations where you feel like, “I'm…I'm trying to be faithful, and I just don't see any breakthrough. I don't see any forward progress.” It would help us to remember what the father in the story says. “You are with me all the time and everything that belongs to me is yours. It's all already yours. Let's celebrate that one who was dead to us is the live.

Prayer:

Father, this definitely touches us in all kinds of places, places where we’re selfish and self-absorbed, places where we want to put ourselves in the in the seat of the judge where we can make the kinds of judgments that are only Yours to make. All kinds of things come from these kinds of postures. And yet if we would realize there's really nothing to get, it's all already hours that we’re not really trying to compete with each other to get more of You, that all of You has been poured out to all of us and You love us all, then we can enter into the rejoicing as well when one who is dead has been restored to us alive and when we remember that we are inheriting a kingdom. Come Holy Spirit we pray. In the mighty name of Jesus, we ask. Amen.

Announcements:

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There are resources that are available in the Daily Audio Bible Shop there, fun things, things to take that journey deeper, things to write on, things to write with, coffee and tea. Just over the years we've just developed resources for the journey through the Bible in a year. And, so, check those out at the Daily Audio Bible Shop.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible you can do that at dailyaudiobible.com as well. There’s a link on the homepage. If you're using the Daily Audio Bible app you can press the Give button in the upper right-hand corner, or the mailing address is PO Box 1996 Spring Hill Tennessee 37174.

And, as always, if you have a prayer request or encouragement…well....you can hit the Hotline button that's in the app, it’s the little red button up at the top, hard to miss it, very plain, very easy to see. No matter where you are in the world, as long as you have Internet, you can hit the Hotline button and share from there, or there are a number of telephone numbers depending on where you are in the world. If you are in the Americas 877-942-4253 is number to call. If you're in the UK or Europe 44-20-3608-8078 is the number to call. And if you are in Australia or the lands down under 61-3-8820-5459 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today except to remind you of what is true every day, I love you, I’m grateful for you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

This message is to Carlos. We hear your prayer, we hear your needs, and we're all praying for you Sir. We're praying for your family, for your wife, your children, your grandchildren, and you as well. Just know that you're not alone during this time. This is Steve from Albertville AL and I just wanted to have maybe a word of encouragement that through prayer you can get through this situation. God bless you. I pray for you my friend in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Good morning DAB family it's the 8th of April I'm calling in today, this is Laura from Heather Hill Florida. I’m praying for Carlos who called in today. He's been listening to the DAB for 10 years. Carlos I’m praying for you and your family, all of you that have covid. I just know it's been a few days now since you called in and you're into this a few days and I just pray heavenly father that You would completely heal Carlos, his wife, his daughter, his grandsons. I pray You heal this family completely of this covid. I pray Father that they would recover quickly and that Father that they would not spread it to anyone else in their…in their vicinity. Lord I pray for complete healing, that they would not have any serious issues, that it would pass quickly and Lord that this virus would be eradicated soon in our world. Father, please bless this family. Protect them. Protect them from harm in Jesus’ name.

Keota from New Zealand DAB family this is my first time calling in. My name is Kate. I wanted to express my gratitude for all that I've learned and all that I’ve absorbed since the 1st of January this year when I started listening. It's really affected me deeply, the whole context of the word and understanding it. I feel like I’ve really encouraged and grown in my faith, my understanding and my relationship with God, my relationship with others. I'm seeing things in a whole new light. I was surprised by given a short notice of eviction from my rental. I live in an area where there's…it's a holiday area so there's not many rentals and everything and real estate is in high demand. So, the opportunity of getting a new place to live is very low if non-existent. Impossible would be more accurate. I decided when I got that notice I was completely relaxed and almost bemused about, “OK God. Where are we going with this? Where are you going to lead me?” The old me would have been panicking. After listening to Brian today 7th of April talking about “seek first the Kingdom” I realized that I have not been worrying, I've been relaxing and letting Him do it. And He's done it. He's provided the impossible, not only a rental but cheaper than the one I was in before and I am…had so many people just come and help. I am amazed. I am very grateful. I'm astounded. I’m humbled. So, thank you for all your input. I hope this encourages someone, that our God is a provider. God, He loves us so much. He's in every detail. Thank you.

My family is feeling a little bad because my uncle just passed away. Please Mr. Brian pray for...

Hello Daily Audio Bible family I'm reaching out. I need prayer from my beloved daughter. Her husband has been battling depression and…and mental illness of some sort and she tried fervently to get him help to get him committed and get him…and he was always able to say the right answers to not be able to be admitted to the metal place. And finally, he took things in his own hand and committed suicide on March 26th. And, so, now there's no chance of reconciliation at all, obviously, in this world. And my daughter she now wants to join him. And I thought that she meant like where he did the deed. No, she literally wants to end her life now too. They've been together 14 years. Anyway, I just appreciate if you could just uplift my daughter Robin, please. And she does know the Lord, but she is in such pain and suffering right now. I want everyone to know who even thinks of committing a suicide, do not. Do not. The pain and the horrific wave that results from it is just…if you only know how unbearable it is. Hopefully anybody who is tempted will not do it because it's just the horrific counter of the aftermath of suicide is so painful. I mean I…I grieve for people who die of natural causes or, you know, accidents or…or worse but when someone…

[jakganim]

it’s the last day of january i made it just in time to write my jojo journal entry lmaO

ANYWHO. so 2018 huh. we all know 2017 was a shitfest. and if it wasn’t for any of you then i’m honestly genuinely glad it wasn’t. because it sure fucking was for me :’)) i’m glad that’s over. honestly speaking 2018 did not start off great either. actually it sucked. like terribly. i will delve into that later but it’s not a fun subject, be warned. either way, i guess my feelings from 2017 were kind of leaking into 2018 and i just wasn’t surprised.

despite the bad news, i suppose there’s some good news too. despite the fact that shit really actually went and fucking hit the fucking fan, i feel oddly good about 2018. i feel like it’s just... my year. i have faith in myself and my life, my direction, even if i don’t know where it’s going yet. i’m usually that person that never makes new years resolutions. i knew i’d never actually stick to them so i was like lmao why feed into that bullshit and just end up feeling bad when i don’t fulfill them. well strangely enough, i made some really minor resolutions and have been sticking to them very well. and for the first time i feel like i can really stick to them. they’re things that seem little but are actually really big for someone like me who has trouble following through with what i say i’m going to do and sticking to routines. 

so i started with a skincare routine. sounds small and mundane but... those are the things i have trouble keeping the most. i stick to a skincare routine every morning and night now. it’s actually doing things for me. i’m amazed. being able to keep one routine made it easier to start new ones. everyday when i come home or when my parents come home, i hug them and kiss them hello. that’s... really different for me. and it’s big. i’m a huge family person but i’ve never been particularly affectionate or close or open with my parents. we’ve got our issues with each other, especially my mother and i. we clash a lot and last year i was starting to resent her which is never a good sign. but then shit happened and now here we are and i knew that they would never take the first step so i’m trying to do it instead. i can tell they’re happier. i am too. 

for those of you who don’t know, jordan is not my legal name. but it’s going to be. i’ve been wanting to change my name for about 5 years now. i finally filed my name change petition and i’m excited for that. once everything is legally changed and all my documents are updated, i’ll start applying for jobs probably. with my name. my real name. jordan. what a feeling. i’ve never been more excited and proud. it’s like i’m finally me. like stepping out of my skinny jeans and just throwing on a pair of basketball shorts and getting comfy. i’m comfortable. i’ve never felt lighter. ironic considering the weight of a death in the family.

yikes that was a both a great and terrible transition. to whoever reads this, sorry. i just jumped right into it. welp, now’s the time to talk about that i guess. so yeah. in my last jojo journal entry, i mentioned my aunt, who’d had a stroke and was in the hospital. everything was really confusing at the time and we were all just holding our breaths, killing ourselves waiting for her to wake up. she was in nscu for almost a month. kept bleeding in the beginning, wouldn’t wake up, and they couldn’t perform any surgery on her. she was just laying there surviving off the many tubes they had in her. i visited her as much as i could. i stayed in what i like to call emotional limbo for that whole month just so i could keep it the fuck together. it was so hard to cry. i couldn’t cry. i teared up when i saw my cousin (her younger son) that first night i rushed to the hospital. watching his face crumble was what set me off but i couldn’t even cry then. it felt like i suffocated all through december.

she passed away within the first week of january. i wasn’t exactly surprised, and that could be a good or bad thing. idk. they’d moved her to pcu prior to that. essentially a hospice aka they were kind of just waiting for her to die. it was a saturday and i remember being at work when my cousin (another one, my extended family is very big lol) called me and told me to get to the hospital asap because she wouldn’t make it through the hour. but she sounded so confused, so unsure, that i too could not help but feel anxious. should i leave work early? should i not? i paced back and forth for a while, juggling answering phone calls and text messages from different cousins, all telling me the same thing but all being really vague about it. my boss didn’t even know my aunt was in the hospital for the past month. i didn’t know how to tell him. but eventually it got urgent. i asked him to let me leave. i know i could’ve just told him my aunt was in the hospital and was probably not going to make it. but i felt like saying it would make it happen so i didn’t, just told him i had a family emergency and needed to go. he tried to guilt me into staying by telling me we had a lot of reservations. i wanted to look him in the eye and tell him my aunt was dying and that i was fucking leaving whether he liked it or not. with those exact words. but i knew it would just make him feel bad and hurt myself in the process, so i didn’t. i left before i could snap at him.

i checked my phone as i got in the car and i was getting frantic messages from a close friend of mine. she sounded really distressed and bad things were happening. i had to sit back and breathe bcos i was scared for my aunt, scared for my friend, and it felt like i was getting hit by two trucks back to back and i wanted it to stop. but life goes on and i knew this too well and it seems these days the only thing i’m good at is dealing with high stress situations in the moment bcos i texted her back, though it felt off, like i wasn’t myself, like i couldn’t draw up any genuine emotions even though in my mind i knew i cared, so much, so deeply. but responding to her felt like grappling helplessly at loose sand, trying to keep it all in my grasp. in retrospect my brain was working double time to keep me in emotional limbo long enough to get through this situation. i had felt it bubble up for a second that moment i got in the car and checked my messages. my brain was like lmao fuck that, put that shit away.

so i picked up my mom cos she had no car atm and we went to the hospital together. my aunt was already gone when we got there. i had never seen my cousins and other extended family so gloom in my fucking life. they were all standing outside the room either looking like zombies or crying. my mother and i went in to say our goodbyes. my mom cried, unsurprisingly. i teared up for a second at that but once again, nothing happened. for a moment, i was jealous. after that, everything just felt like a haze. i spent a lot of time waving the tissue box at people whenever they needed it. i stared into the room from the hallway a lot. just looked at my aunt. tried to relay my thoughts to her. convey to her that she did well. she lived a good life. that i was proud of her. that i was sorry she had to stay in that hospital for so long. my cousins and i went down to the au bon pain in the lobby bcos they hadn’t eaten yet. we chatted like life was normal. it was a strange experience, yet everything made sense.

after that night, life went by in one crazy blur. i got sick like the next week which bled right into her wake and funeral. i had shit to do and places to go but everything just felt really unimportant. i remember sitting through a 4 hour meeting with my a cappella group’s e-board right before my illness went full out crazy on me. i was just starting to get sick at the time and i spent half the meeting staring at nothing and coughing into my elbow. it was hard to concentrate but i dragged my ass through it and left with a headache and bunch of responsibilities i didn’t feel like attending to. i finally cried after, well, everything. i wanted to tell my friend (the one mentioned earlier who sent me texts) what i was feeling, what i was thinking, and drawing everything back up from that night managed to push me over. it was some good shit. don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re weak for crying. crying is so good for you when you’re emotional. when you’re sad. i was letting go of a lot of things obviously. i needed that. 

and since then, i’ve been doing a lot better. for a while i thought about death a lot. it scared the shit out of me. still does. i, as a living person, am not actually capable of wrapping my head around the concept of death bcos... well, i’m alive. and that scared me more than anything. but after about a week, those thoughts faded. people once told me i handled these situations well but... i’d never actually had to handle “these situations.” not like this. not this close to home. they just came to that conclusion bcos of my personality. but now that i’m here, i’d like to at least try and believe that they’re right. i want to at least try and believe in my strength to overcome, to stay positive no matter what, to do better, to live happier. i have to. it’s my duty in this life. i need to fulfill nothing more than contentment. i want to one day leave this world knowing that i’ve lived. that i was happy no matter what happened. that i enjoyed this life. and hopefully in the process, offered something to the world. part of the reason i’m doing well is also due to the fact that my aunt really did live a pretty good life overall. she travelled a lot and loved to have fun. she had two lovely sons, one of whom got married last year. nobody at that funeral felt like she had any regrets (not that we’d ever REALLY know, but, the thought helps). she was happy. and so i want to be happy too. when the time comes that a funeral is held for me, i want people to think ah yes... jordan lived a goodass life. what a wholesome life. they were happy. i would want to inspire them to live better, just like my aunt inspired me to. and if in the future i have another life, i hope that person feels the same way, does better, lives more, with even more love, more care, and more sunshine coated smiles.

fin. 180131 | 11:27PM

[potterlivesrp]

sample application.

Below you will find my sample application for Seamus Finnegan (FC: Thomas Doherty)! Thank you for your patience as I got this all together. I do want to make the strong point that the freeform section is absolutely up to you. I mean it when I say you can do whatever you want! I have elected to write a bunch of headcanons because that works for my personal character building process; if you want to do something different, please do! Good luck to everyone who is applying, and if there is anything I can do to help, please do not hesitate to let me know.

OUT OF CHARACTER

Name/alias: Honey

Age (18+): Twenty three

Preferred pronouns: She/her

Timezone: GMT+11

Life responsibilities: 8/10. In addition to being the admin, I am also a newly minted PhD student (yikes!). Between all the chaos that entails, I am actually quite good at time management, so I am here for the long run! If ever I need to duck away for a few days, I will make a post on the main and the OOC blog just to keep everyone updated.

OUT OF CHARACTER - Q&A

Answer the questions in the application here! No, I won’t give away the answers.

IN CHARACTER - BASICS

Full name: Seamus James Finnegan

Age and date of birth: Twenty years old (December 10th, 1980)

Zodiac sign: Sagittarius

Gryffindors born under this sign are exuberant and full of good humour. They are intelligent, but often do not make the best of students, because they would rather be outside enjoying the fresh air or off studying on their own. They aren’t good at diplomatic silence; if a teacher makes a mistake, the Gryffindor Sag will draw attention to it right away, usually loudly and in front of the entire class. At length. These students can get into trouble - their hot tempers make for easy dueling matches, and their impish senses of humour inspire a great many practical jokes. Still, they rarely mean anything malicious. They’re too jovial to harbour malice. These Gryffindors are likeable extraverts, on good terms with practically everybody, and they generally do all right in the end. Many excellent Quidditch players come from this sign. (Source)

Ex-Hogwarts house: Gryffindor

Gender identity: Cisgender male

Sexual orientation: Homosexual panromantic

Faceclaim: Thomas Doherty (if I were an applicant, I would put three FCs here in order of preference!)

IN CHARACTER - IN DEPTH

PERSONALITY TRAITS

POSITIVE: Generous, curious, idealistic, humorous, energetic, adventuresome, enthusiastic, brave, optimistic, confident, flirtatious.

NEGATIVE: Inconsistent, impatient, upfront, brash, undiplomatic, tactless, disorganized, careless, superficial, gullible.

HEADCANONS

Although he would loudly object otherwise, Seamus is a bit of a country bumpkin. His father was a muggle farmer when he met his mother, who was a field officer for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The way they met was hardly romantic: she was there to investigate an outbreak of grindylows; he was about to call the council about the strange creatures infesting the water supply for his flock of sheep. But in a twist that is now legendary, Mary didn’t tell James about her magic until after they were married. This was hilarious to a young Seamus, who never tired of teasing his parents about their mutual deception. “Didn’t she give anything away?” Seamus would demand, laughing, and his father would grin, “Aye, I did wonder why a woman so beautiful would look my way.” Theirs was a happy home, one full of good humor and light-hearted conversation. Both of Seamus’ parents were Irish: national pride was not so much an aspect of Seamus’ upbringing as a permanent feature. Endlessly curious, Seamus would pour over old family photographs, nose nearly pressed to the unmoving faces of his father’s side, fingers tracing the crinkling smiles of his mother’s ancestors. In many ways Mary and James had parallel families, despite being magical and muggle respectively. They had seen famine and hardship, cruelty and poverty. The Finnegans were working stock, all calloused hands and sun-browned skin. Seamus burst with pride when he thought of his family’s blood and sweat that had seeped into the green fields of An Neidín.

Even in the middle of a war, Seamus knows he will return to Kenmare. His childhood was spent helping out on the farm, flying brooms with his cousin Fergus, and playing tricks on the local muggles. None of this was ever in ill-humor, for Seamus has an especially warm approach to all people. At school it wasn’t uncommon for him to apologize profusely if one of his jokes went a little too far (once he’d stopped laughing fit to burst, of course). One of the most important things in life, he reckons, is laughter. Laughter and good conversation. Indeed, Seamus could talk the hind leg off a donkey. When he was a child, Seamus would often ride his bike into the local muggle village on an errand of some kind – the newspaper for his Da, a bottle of ale for supper – and be found some hours later, engrossed in discussion with the shopkeeper over any manner of topics: animals, weather, farming. Seamus has an open, approachable manner that attracts him to farm-hands, milkmen, beleaguered Ministry workers, bartenders. With a vast and rambling mind, he manages to pick up snippets of information that, although often untrue or exaggerated, do mean he can contribute to essentially any topic in some respect. The degree to which his contribution is useful or even heeded, however, is up for debate.

Seamus has no clue what he wants to do after the war. Survival is his priority, as is anyone’s, in his opinion. For some years, however, he and his cousin Fergus have discussed opening up a whiskey distillery. This idea often surfaces after they have had a few too many whiskeys themselves, although Seamus would be remiss to say he isn’t seriously interested in the idea. He likes to imagine himself as the salesmen, the face of the company, while Fergus can do all the hard work. Fergus, needless to say, refutes this distribution of labor, and usually remarks that of the two of them, anyone would be more willing to look at Fergus’ pretty face than deal with Seamus and all his freckles. These conversations then regress into a tussle, which Seamus rarely wins. Fergus is a slippery little fucker.

The Finnegans are a small clan, and so Fergus is Seamus’ closest and only cousin. His senior by five years, it was Fergus who introduced Seamus to the first of most things. They attended the Quidditch World Cup together (where Seamus got catastrophically drunk – at fourteen, no less – under Fergus’ careful “supervision”); they often met in Diagon Alley for a pint and a game of chess together (Fergus always loses, mainly because he is easily distracted by the barmaid); and they flew brooms together. The last is among Seamus’ most treasured memories. Fergus would say he wanted to be a famous Quidditch player when he grew up. “I’m destined for greatness,” he insisted seriously, “haven’t ye seen me skills? Lad, you’ll be beggin’ for me autograph one o’ these days, just you wait.” Fergus did in fact make the reserve team of the Kenmare Kestrels a couple of years ago. Professional Quidditch, it turns out, is more about training and hoping you stick out enough to be picked for a game than it is about fame and glory. Now that the war has struck, Fergus has returned to Kenmare to stay with Seamus’ mother and father. The Regime has little need for sports at the moment, particularly when they’re too busy murdering muggles. If Seamus writes to anyone, it’s to Fergus, and damn Hermione’s rules about owling out too often. Fergus is his one link to home: without him, how would Seamus know about the new calf, or his mother’s redundancy from the Ministry, or his father staying up late, night after night, smoking his pipe and gazing into the fire? War means more than battles; it means leaving your family behind and hoping beyond hope that they’re missing you less than you miss them. For Seamus, who is so connected to his blood, the Resistance can be a form of torture.

Seamus dresses in muggle clothes more often than not. His parents had a relaxed attitude towards presentation, with his mother foregoing wizarding robes in favor of floral dresses or comfortable slacks, and his father usually slogging through the back door in enormous green wellies, a tweed flat cap crammed over his greying hair. Seamus is all muggle black Levi jeans, tight t-shirts of bands he’s never heard of, flannel overshirts, and a denim jacket littered with magical badges. He’s often found lounging on a sofa, trainer laces trailing, t-shirt rucked up his freckled stomach, a Quidditch magazine glued to his nose. Seamus has perfected the art of claiming a sofa to oneself (this also extends to beds, brick walls, and queues outside clubs). The trick, he reckons, is in looking utterly bored and somewhat post-coital, with half-mast eyes and a ready smirk, should anyone catch his eye. Seamus does have an air of sensuality about him -- and he can be an incorrigible flirt. “I can’t help being a sex god, can I?” he’s asked rhetorically on more than one occasion. In reality, Seamus is less sex god and more sex menace. At school he was often complaining about the regularity of his shags, the quality thereof, and the attractiveness of his partners. Being a part of the Resistance has had the effect of dampening his sex drive, but only slightly. Instead, Seamus channels his frustration into dueling. Blue balls is a very effective battle tactic.

Seamus is actually remarkably ordinary when it comes to magic. He is fair at transfiguration, good at charms, and reasonable at hexes. But it’s his patronus charm that is remarkable without exception. Seamus’ corporeal patronus – and it is always corporeal, make no doubt about that – is a fox. At first he demurred when it was suggested he teach others in the Resistance how to cast a patronus charm. “I’m not that good,” he said uncomfortably, “can’t ye get someone else t’do it?” Seamus isn’t a very good teacher when it comes down to it. He is easily distracted and often goes off on tangents, preferring instead to fall into conversation than to actually direct his student’s magic. This is a shame, because Seamus does have a gift, and it’s certainly lucky that this falls into one of the most difficult areas of magic there is.

His place in the Resistance is unquestioned. Seamus couldn’t bear to be at home, twiddling his thumbs, hoping that someone else was going to save them all from His reign of terror. Part of the reason why he joined the Order for a hot minute was simply all that energy. Seamus, for all his humor and chatterbox nature, is a doer. He needs to be in the fray, to feel useful. The Finnegans never got anywhere without getting their hands dirty, after all, and hard work is something Seamus is used to. His father certainly didn’t allow his only son to lollygag about the farm when there were cows to milk or agricultural fairs to attend. Much of Seamus’ early memories take place in the passenger seat of his father’s truck, bumping along endless green fields, heading towards some distant destination, their border collie panting and bouncing over Seamus’ shoulder. The problem with the Order was that he felt peripheral. Seamus will never kid himself: he knows he’s not a leader. He doesn’t have the charisma, for one, or the attention span. Although he’s definitely gifted at boosting morale and connecting with people, he far prefers a secondary role than being right at the front (this doesn’t stop him soundly criticizing anyone he believes is slacking off, of course). In the Resistance at least there is the feeling that they are working towards something. The Order was all cloaks and daggers: now Seamus is engaged in the gritty everyday of the Resistance’s existence. Someone has to scout out new camping spots, to figure out when they should attack that Death Eater hot zone, to teach people how to cast a patronus. Seamus is happy right in the middle of the action. He needs to feel valued.

For Seamus, the war sounds like late-night laughter, hushed in the blue dark, from people sitting around a bonfire. It’s the smell of a forest at dawn, of the rain-washed clean of another nameless British moor, the cold rush of ocean air whipping over dunes. Unmade beds, dish-washing duty, the organized cacophony of group breakfast. It feels like trudging along another country track, his boots sticking in the mud, Dean bumping into his side as their readjust the straps of their backpacks. The war sounds like the music that thumped out of a muggle club that one time in London; the way it pounded into the close summer air and tangled in Hermione’s sweat-damp hair. It’s that time he and Ron found themselves stuck in an abandoned warehouse for hours, watching a Death Eater do Merlin knew what across the way, until finally she apparated at four in the morning and left them sore, tired, and stupid, snapping at everyone when they arrived back at headquarters before collapsing asleep in bed for twelve hours. It’s the red bruise forming between his fingers from where he holds his wand. The war mainly feels like one anticlimax after another, but it mainly feels like holding a cup of tea on a frosty morning in Devon, sitting outside the flap of the tent and watching the light turn from dust to silver to gold. It feels the way that Dean makes him feel: short of breath, nervous, thrilled with their proximity.

For all his positive qualities, Seamus is a flawed individual. He finds it easy to identity the alleged weak spots of other people and does not hesitate in pointing them out, often loudly at at length, with little regard for other people’s feelings. He can also be quite brusque and even dismissive, believing that he has already considered the consequences and someone else’s opinion is merely a beat too late. In addition to this, his brash nature can cause him to be sloppy, clumsy, and heedless of consequence. Taking responsibility for his actions is something he struggles with constantly. There is a reason Seamus is not put on the trickier missions, when a careful hand and a steady eye are the only ways they can succeed. He is far better in the thick of it, with his spirit burning bright, his spells shooting through the dark like jets of flame. He lacks the finesse that a true spy requires; he does, however, have the mettle of a freedom fighter, and that is his redeeming feature.

One of Seamus’ biggest problems is his ability to jump to conclusions. It’s not an uncommon occurrence for Seamus to forego any logical explanation and simply choose whichever answer is the most salacious, extraordinary, or unbelievable. And somewhere, in the crowded, bright places in his mind, these tales take on a life of their own. At school it meant he was especially susceptible to gossip. More recently, his doubt in Harry Potter exemplifies this. Seamus would never discriminate based on blood status, and that is not the reason he feels uncertain around the prophecy of Potter being the Chosen One. No, he has a problem with the fact that Harry essentially knows nothing about how to fulfill this supposed prophecy. Although a halfblood himself, Seamus did essentially have a magical childhood. His mother imbued their home with magic in all of its ordinary glory: floating teapots, evergreen flowers on the sill, self-refreshing laundry. Seamus is used to the lovely everyday of magic and the wonder it can inspire in even the most mundane of chores. Even his father, in his sentimental moments (which are frequent; the Finnegans are an emotional lot and prone to heated monologues) expresses how strange and empty his old life feels without the touch of his wife’s wand. So how can someone who has never known the poisoned touch of You-Know-Who, who never grew up with stories about his reign of terror -- how can someone like that be expected to save someone like him? Even Seamus’ mother had a rough time during the first war; Seamus has seen her scars. You-Know-Who might have taken everything from Harry -- and that angers Seamus on Harry’s behalf -- but he also doesn’t know about the grim reality of Dark magic. What a word without Light is really like. And that, to Seamus, is difficult to reconcile.

EXTRAS

Seamus’ blog can be found here!

Here is a Pinterest board for him.

This is also where I would link to two writing samples if I were an applicant! They do not have to be IC.

[thedailyscourge]

Day Eleven

(of the 4th month of the year Twenty-hundred and Twenty)

An entry from the journal of a squire of Brookland:

Don’t count your discharges before they’re wheeled out the front door.

Turns out, three of the four patients I thought were going to go home yesterday never left.  One because her lab results very unexpectedly went the wrong way and the other two because there were some logistical issues with getting oxygen tanks delivered to their homes.  I’m not going to make the same mistake again, but when I left today, the oxygen had been delivered and another patient whose discharge was delayed yesterday morning was scheduled to finally leave.  So three potential discharges today.

Now, having spent five days caring for mostly very old regular sized humans, I have begun taking more and more ownership of these patients.  That term, “taking ownership” of patients is something that we employ to say a healthcare worker is taking on more of the responsibility of caring for someone but it means a lot more than that. It means you are more invested in the patient; you spend more hands on time with them and their case.  There’s an emotional connotation to it.  You work harder for them; you’re more a tune to the consequences of each action in the plan.  The victories are sweeter, the defeats more painful.  You go the extra mile. If mistakes are made, you own up to them and you shoulder more of the blame. I think, in some way, it means you learn to love them better.  Their triumphs are yours and their setbacks impact you on a personal level.

As time goes on, I’m getting better at identifying the patterns that exist in the work I’ve been asked to do.  I have a better grasp of what tools I have at my disposal and how my strengths could be leveraged to improve the health of these patients.  Today, that looked like two very different things that in some ways are a greater tell of who I am as a person and a provider than anything else.

The first comes first in the morning.  After getting sign-out on our patients for the day, I let the younger members of the team work on gathering the lab results and placing the necessary orders for each patient.  Meanwhile, I take a little extra risk for the possibility of a little extra reward.  Instead of waiting a few more hours to dawn my armor and visit the patients for the day with my boss, the lead knight of the team who comes in later in the morning, I go into about half of the patient’s rooms myself immediately, turn down the levels of oxygen each is getting, and see how they handle it.  Sometimes I even turn their oxygen off and see if their lungs do all the work themselves like they’re supposed to.  Most of the time, my bet pays off and the patient’s body has grown strong enough under our care that they do fine with the reduced oxygen.  In those cases, a few hours later when I come back around with the other members of the team, I can often turn their oxygen down again or turn it off completely. And that technique I’ve found pushes them further along than if I would have waited and just gone in their room once, later in the morning.  My strength here is that I’m young and healthy with just a 0.2% chance of dying if I contract the Scourge.  In my mind, I’ve processed this as a binary consequence.  Either I die or I don’t.  There is no in-between.  So with a 99.8% chance of a good outcome even if I contract the Scourge, I’m emboldened like a teenager who thinks they’re invincible.  It’s true, the extra visit in the early morning is an unnecessary risk.  In the scheme of things it saves us just a few hours of progress but those hours take place in the most efficient part of the day, the morning, and the way that time works in the castle, those hours add up in a way that could mean the patient gets to go home a day or more sooner than they would have.  And that means we have an empty bed a day or more sooner than we would have which ultimately means we can provide more care to more patients.

But there’s another benefit to these little “pre-rounding” visits.  After I come into a room and change the oxygen settings, I need to take a couple minutes and watch the readout of the oxygen saturation meter that tells me the level of oxygen in the patient’s blood.  While I’m watching those numbers tick up and down, I get to talk to the patients.  I say “get to” because this is honestly the best part of my job and it always has been.  I love to hear about where people grew up, what they studied in college, how many kids (or grandkids) they have and what their ages are.

It might not be obvious, but in my estimation, this specific conversation is one of the single most important and impactful moments on any given day in the treatment of a patient diagnosed with the Scourge.  When the patient tells you about their life, you subconsciously cultivate more empathy for them, a connection grows, and your sense of success becomes tied up with the improvement of their health.  Before, you wanted to “solve the case”, elucidate the details of the disease process, or figure out the best treatment modality to correct the pathology. In other words, you were seeking a sense of cognitive satisfaction.  But now? Now you want to help your new friend go back to work in that field they studied so hard to specialize in.  You want to help this man or woman get back home to their kids, to their spouse, to that garden they love so much.  Now, you want to be the author that writes the happy ending to this part of their story. Now you’re on your way to being an artist.

At this point, you’ve become more invested than you ever were before and more than you ever would be if you spent all that time in a room surrounded by other scientists just talking about the patient instead of with them.  And I really do believe that extra investment drives providers like me to give better care.  It motivates us to come up with more creative solutions to problems.  To try harder and try differently.

But you’re also still a scientist, and while you’re listening to the names of all the grandkids, you’re, multitasking. You know that as the patient talks and talks and talks, they’re actually exerting themselves, using up energy.  Oxygen.  And you can walk and chew gum at the same time.  Tell them you think you’ve been to that part of Michigan. Ask them to use their hand as a mitten like map to point it out. Meanwhile, you’re watching as the oxygen in their blood plummets… or doesn’t.  At the end of it you know about the grandkids, the lake house, the tech school degree, and also, more likely than not this week, that their lungs are stronger right now than they were a few hours ago.

I more or less pointed this out to a patient this week after our conversation when I told her “See, you don’t even need that oxygen anymore.  You need to go home.”.  She blasted back, “Hey, you tricked me!”.  

The second way the time I’ve spent on the ward this week finding footholds for my strengths materialized into wins today was in my communication with families.  Maybe it’s the pediatrician in me but I’ve always found I have a knack for speaking with families. I think at the core of that are the lessons I learned in what we call “motivational interviewing” when I was just a young page, a student if you will in the art of medicine. This training taught me to listen before I speak, to ask open ended questions, to identify values, and find common ground.  This week, I realized the family of one of our patients had a complicated family dynamic and was calling at all different times of the day expecting to receive consistent messaging for a bunch of different providers.  It’s easy to see why that is a plan for nothing but confusion.  So I called the family and gave them an intentionally robust update then ended with an offer: if they would like to continue to have consistent, in-depth updates in the future, they could stop calling altogether and let me call them everyday at the same time, once in the afternoon. They liked the sound of that and agreed to the new rules.  I think this was a move that requires a little more of me personally, but it cuts off a process of annoyance and resentment the whole team was falling into with this family and it stops a process of misinformation and anxiety for the family who would, under normal circumstances, be at the bedside of their relative.  

The two practices here are a prime example of my definition for the term “the Art of Medicine”.  To me, the Art of Medicine means that there are a thousand different ways of getting a patient from point A to point B, a state of poor health to a state of renewed health.  On paper, the outcome might look the same, but those individual choices that a provider makes that end up being one of those thousand paths are creative decisions that are not right or wrong, they’re not binary. That creativity is something that can’t exactly be taught in a classroom, it can only be learned by a student who is attentive and invested in the work.  A student who spends time talking with the patient, not just about them. You see, unlike many other essential fields, science for us is a paint brush; it’s a means to a hopefully beautiful end. You have to train hard to learn how to use that paintbrush and you never stop learning.  But no one goes to a museum to see a paintbrush.  You go to see the masterpieces.  And every once in a while, if you take a step back when you’re practicing the Art of Medicine, you’ll become cognizant of the fact that you are helping to create a masterpiece yourself.  

The tolls:

The City of New Pork (of which the town of Brookland belongs):

98,308 afflicted

6,202 dead

The Divided Realms of Amen!-ia:

528,301 afflicted

20,554 dead

We await the miracle prophesied by the Emperor to come in the 4th month.  

[legalist217]

kaminaepicwin said: Published is published, congrats!!!!

See that’s an interesting situation, because I agree sort of but not entirely and I want to elaborate for other fledgling writer types because I had to figure most of this out myself and it’s still a work in process. So thank you for prompting some real thoughts!

Okay so when I first seriously sat down and went hell yea I’m hot shit, let’s get published motherfuckas, I of course wanted to find a good list of places to submit my work. And I say a ‘good’ list, because there’s plenty of bad places to submit your stuff.

If you’re new to the morass that is attempting publication, take an afternoon and browse WRITER BEWARE, a site maintained by the Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America. They keep a decently up to date listing on shady publishers, as well as big red flags to avoid at all costs. There’s a lot of info there, and it’s well worth your time to get a real sense of what’s actually a normal practice in the industry versus what’s a huckster trying to pull wool over an idealist’s eyes. Very often, though, is when they want to publish your work for nothing or, worse, only if you pay to get it out there. (And this ain’t just vanity publishing, either, this is... advanced vanity publishing.)

So, after learning about all the bad, you’ll naturally want to know what’s good. For me, SFWA was a good place to start as well with their membership requirements. Specifically, they have a relatively up-to-date list of what they call “Qualifying Markets” for novels and magazines. To be a qualifying market, the publisher has to pay a certain rate for your work. The going rate these days is a minimum of six cents per word ($0.06/word USD) when published in a magazine.

Being who I am, I spent a winter break diligently researching every magazine they listed. I have an Excel sheet at home that lists:

magazine

word count (some places have a minimum, I have yet to see somewhere not have a maximum) (also how many poems they will accept at once)

content restrictions (some places specifically don’t want genre fiction or SF/F or children’s stories)

average response time

payment for accepted work

how to submit (most are on Submittable now, but some still insist you mail them a physical copy)

any submission fees

submission window (i.e. Jan 1 - Jun 30)

whether they want a cover letter (some places explicitly don’t)

any idiosyncratic details - do they explicitly not want simultaneous submissions? do they need you to format a special way? do they mention a period when they receive more submissions (so you can time yours for a less busy season)?

If this sounds really labor intensive... that’s because it is. It really really is. I can do a bunch in one sitting, but it takes time and patience. But it’s also worth doing because I can then look at it and go aha, they need me to put a cover letter listing any industry contacts, better make sure none of my professors were guest editors

While this was helpful, it was also... honestly pretty limiting. Six cents a word is a lot of money. Like it doesn’t sound like it but it kind of is? But there’s more than just ca$h to consider. After I graduated from college and started writing for myself again, I started looking into other journals. There’s some I dismissed because they were only offering ~your name in print~ or measly honorariums. 

Then I talked with a professor, who pointed out that some of those magazines have hosted literary brilliance. Okay, so maybe SFWA won’t consider you for membership because you wrote for them, but it’s going to look fuckin baller on your next submission’s cover letter. So, essentially, you have to take into account the prestige of a magazine/journal as well.

Now, how to do that is, uh, tricky, admittedly. My first plan was to go to the local university, hole up in the library, gather every literary journal I could get my grubby paws on, and write down the details for ALL OF THEM. This is how mad people do it, but artists are a little mad so what do you want from me. 

And honestly, this is a somewhat effective method because it forces you to page through a journal for the contact info and submission guidelines. They aren’t kidding when they tell you to read the magazine and get a feel for their style before submitting. And I readily admit to having spent much of the ten hours at the university library curled in a chair reading the latest Joyce Carol Oates in The Kenyon Review and going “hmm I like this but not as well as another recent story she published in Boulevard.” Or finding a fabulist gem in what I think was The Michigan Quarterly Review but I didn’t write down the title or author or the story and I feel real dumb now, so I guess I’ll just... have to page through them all again. Oh noes. How dreadful.

My point with the above is that by spending time reading, it actually tells you if you’re suited to submitting to a certain publication. Do you see your work hanging out comfortably next to the stories in the current issue? If not, unless it’s explicitly a themed issue, maybe look elsewhere (unless and until you get another story idea that would fit in well!)

As for my system, well, it’s grown and split and is looking a little mutated. I have a Batman notebook that I write the particulars in because I don’t always carry my laptop to places where I’m gonna meet with new magazines, also it’s a different and sometimes easier way to read the information, also I really like redundancy:

I also still have my Excel spreadsheet, but it’s grown a bunch of pages; there’s a separate one for poetry, for instance, as well as a listing for where I’ve submitted what and when (so that I don’t snag anything for simsubs should they occur). 

(I also have a master list from my professor, but I’m, like, still in the process of separately evaluating it and inputting it into my various databases?? So yeah.)

Basically you gotta do what works for you. If you can’t get to a library -- and I do recommend university libraries for this because public libraries don’t tend to stock academic journals, and if you’re worried about being an INTERLOPER just look up the public hours ahead of time and act like you have every right to be there and you’ll be fine I promise -- then Wikipedia does have a frankly exhausting list of active literary journals you can peruse. Yes, I said exhausting, not exhaustive (though it’s also that). Because it is exhausting to comb through these. But it’s worth it. 

If all of this seems like wildly too much and you just need a starting point, then I recommend picking up a poetry or short story collection from a favorite contemporary author. One of the front or back pages will list where most of the pieces were first published. Start there. 

If anyone has any other hot tips for getting going on the writing train, please feel free to share here. I wish you all the very best on regarding your writing endeavors!