#it’s difficult to find something cohesive even after I stopped in the middle of 3 of them

[ivorypool]

SHE CANNOT LOVE

William Shakespeare, Much Ado about Nothing Act 3 Scene 1 // Cheekface, “Listen to Your Heart (No)” // The Orion Experience, “No Love in February” // Emilie Simon, “Roses Never Fall in Love” // Michael Gray, “I think love is something/that happens to other people” // Chet Baker, “But Not for Me” // When in Rome, “The Promise” // AJJ, “Survival Song”

[mysweetestcreature]

Tomorrow Never Knows (President!Harry) Chapter 3: Bloom

(Banner by the wonderful noblewomankat!)

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Masterlist

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Monday, September 22, 2008

        Monday morning comes quicker than expected, but for Y/n, it couldn’t have come soon enough. All weekend the only thing she could think about was how Harry had been so close –– literally so close –– to kissing her in her living room. How she pretended to be calm in front of her family all weekend utterly baffles her. 

       The last time she’d had a crush so tremendous had been in the summer after sixth grade when her mom had signed them up for a mother-daughter cooking class, and one of the mom’s had brought her son by mistake. He was a year older and could make the most delicious Pad Thai in all of Central Jersey. Even then, however; she had never felt all these butterflies in her tummy that would consistently flutter about when Harry just so much as looked at her.

       She arrives on campus a little earlier than usual, probably because she’d woken up so excited to get ready for the day. Her dad had been terribly confused to find her sitting on the countertop, all dressed and ready to be dropped off on his way to work (she’d even packed him his favorite lunch as a bribe). 

       As of now, it’s just her and the breeze that gently lifts the strands of her relaxed hair. The school looks so pretty at this hour, with the birds chirping happily in their nests, and the cute little woodland creatures that are usually hidden away in the bushes, roaming freely across the lawn. Only a few other students join her at this hour, but they’re all stowed away in the building, taking this breathtaking scene for granted. She breathes it all in and allows for her head to fall against the bench’s backrest. 

       “Hey.” The sudden hum of his deep voice startles her, and her head snaps up to find him standing right in front of her and looking like he’d just stepped off the cover of some teen magazine that she skims through while in line at Shop Rite. 

       “Hi,” she tries her best, but she can’t help the wide smile that dresses over her features. She signals down to the empty spot beside her. He gladly accepts it, dropping his bookbag on the grass and plopping down next to her. Her thumbs fiddle with each other in her lap, as she sucks on her top front teeth before speaking up again. “How was your weekend?” 

       “It was fine,” he answers simply.

       “Do anything fun?”

       “Eh.”

       The words bounce around in her mouth with the undeniable need to talk about last Friday. But he’s being far too detached in his manner of speaking, that she wonders how she’ll ever go about starting up such an important –– yes, she’s labelling it as a top priority –– conversation. She supposes that it is the beginning of the week, and maybe now that she’s had a better look at him he does appear a tad tired, judging from the bags under his eyelids and the way he suppresses a long yawn into his sleeve. Still, though! How is she going to accumulate confidence when he’s barely alive enough to respond?

       He turns to look at her. “Yours?”

       She stares intently at him. “Terrible! So stupidly terrible! It was so damn hard because all I could think about was how you almost kissed me but didn’t because my little brother interrupted us and totally hogged your attention for the rest of the afternoon! And now all I want to do is talk about it because I may or may not like you as more than a friend! AGH!” It’s what she’s dying to tell him, but rather she blinks her eyes before letting her head falter in defeat.

        “It was fine.” 

***

       “He did what!?” Maxxie nearly falls over in his seat at the reception of the news.

       “Will you hush up!” Y/n shushes, smacking him in the face with her three-subject Biology notebook (she thought it’d be more impactful than a flimsy folder). “Besides, nothing happened.” And yet she so badly wishes that weren’t the case because at least it wouldn’t have trapped her in such a spot of complete unknowing.

       “It’s true,” Cici inserts, leaning in from the adjacent side of the lab table. “She told me when she picked me up after I climbed out the window at Café Agira.” 

       Maxxie stares at Cici with the most baffled expression. “You-... You know what? I’m not even gonna ask,” he talks at her before turning back to Y/n. “You on the other hand, I am very interested in learning about this thing between you and our local Brit.” 

       She sighs, dropping her cheek in her palm and tracing nonsensical images onto the surface of the table with her pointer. “I was gonna talk to him about it before homeroom, but I don’t know...he seemed really out of it.” Her eyes shut with grievance. “What if he regrets it? Is that why he’s being all distant?” After all, she’d been a bit emotional, and he’d been there to comfort her. It’s a scene out of over a dozen films.

       Both her friends give each other a knowing look before hopping their stools closer to the middle. Cici envelops her in a tight hug. “You, my friend, need to be more confident,” she says softly, playing with the ends of hair. “Tell her what you know, Max.”

       Y/n glances at the blonde as he leans in to join the huddle. “Okay, so I heard from Evan, who heard from Jake, who heard from Kara, who heard from Lori, who heard from Bailey, who heard from Rishav, who heard from his sister Aavani, who is dating Angelo, who heard from Mike, who heard from Trish, who heard from Brent, who is on the football team with Harry...” He pauses, gasping for air after such a difficult and trying verbal marathon. “...and he heard Harry going on about how he’s really into this girl he’s friends with.”

       They’d expected this to lift her spirits up, but instead she lets out another dismal sigh. “Harry’s friends with a lot of girls. Remember last week when those girls from his English class made him sit with them? He could be talking about anyone.” 

       Cici glares over her head, nostrils flaring angrily for Maxxie to fix this slump of a mood their best friend is trapped in. 

***

       The next time Harry sees her is in History class, and he’d spent all of US Politics trying to formulate cohesive thoughts that he hoped would process into audible words. This morning had been a bit off for him, he realized that as soon as they had parted ways towards their respective homerooms. He hadn’t meant to be so standoffish, but he had an extra early practice and by the time he saw her, he was already thoroughly exhausted and wanting nothing more than to curl up somewhere and take a long nap. 

       Now he’s had time to rejuvenate and collect himself into something he’ll actually be able to present to her. Hopefully she doesn’t think any less of him, or change her opinion based on one measly fail of an encounter. He remains positive because he’s really been meaning to talk to her about a couple days ago, how he had come within centimeters of pressing his lips to hers because he really couldn’t hold back any longer. She’s just so cute and sweet and funny, and overall he just loves being around her. And okay, he’d meant to text or call her to say just that, but couldn’t figure out how to organize his scattered brain into something relatively sensible. He won’t deny that she has this power over him that he can’t quite describe, let alone express through his seemingly fading vernacular. 

       She walks in, making sure to greet Mr. Noone with a smile and a bag full of another delicious dessert. He tries to listen in as she makes conversation, which soon turns into her hounding the elderly man for yet another one of her Tupperware containers. “I’m pretty sure you have five now! At least give me three of those back. Dad had nowhere to put our leftovers last night!” he hears her whine. The way she pouts her lips and huffs as she stomps away is undeniably one of the cutest things she does –– he thinks so, at least.

       When she’s within close proximity, he sits up straight in his chair and pushes back his mop of brown curls away from his eyes.  “About this morning,” he starts slowly, finding his rhythm with his tongue. “I was so drained from practice and literally I thought I was gonna pass out...”

       “It’s fine, no big deal,” she says curtly, setting her stuff down and taking her seat without so much as peeking an eye his way.  

       His mouth curls to the side. He’s by no means an expert on women, but if living his whole life with his mum and sister had taught him anything, he’d have to be completely daft to actually believe that she’s completely dandy. “No, it’s not. You’re mad at me.” He places his arm around her chair and shifts closer. “I’m sorry..” he pouts, the side hand brushing slightly over her back where he knows she’s ticklish, but she doesn’t even flinch. “C’mon, at least look at me. I don’t like it when you’re mad at me.” 

       She keeps her eyes set on her lap. “Harry, I said-” But she stops when the shadow of a figure looms over their table, and they both peer up hesitantly to meet Mr. Noone towering above them. 

       “If you two could postpone this lovers quarrel until after my class, that’d be most appreciated.”

***

       After class, Harry follows their history teacher’s advice, and chases after Y/n as she squeezes her way through the pile of students to escape. She takes solace, however, in the knowledge that she can hide away in the library or the Home Ec. Room for the next fifty-five minutes and won’t have to talk to him until lunch time. And yet, she groans inwardly when she hears her name being echoed in the crowded corridor, accompanied by his hasty footsteps that as the push off the floor with each brisk stride.

       “Y/n!” he wheezes, finally catching up to her. She gives in, feeling a slight pang of guilt (emphasis on slight) run through her, and pivots on her heel. “Christ, you walk fast.” He hoists himself up, using his knees as support as he takes in a few deep breaths through his nostrils.

       “Don’t you have class?” she tuts, crossing her arms and stomping the toe of her shoe in utter annoyance. 

       “Not until you accept my apology.”

       She throws her hands up in the air. “And I keep telling you that everything is fine! So, please get your butt up to Debate or else you’ll be marked as tardy and I don’t want you to be late because of me.” 

        A smirk finds its way to his lips. “At least I know you care,” he cheeks, nudging her gently with his elbow. He can see how she fights off a grin as she turns her head as afar as it can go. No matter how hard she tries to hide it, he still manages to bring it out of her. “There it is!”

       “I just don’t want that on my conscience,” she snoots, but she knows how unconvincing this whole charade is. He slings an arm around her before she can even come up with another thing to say as if it was the most natural thing. She looks at where his veiny hand comes through the other side, poking through the slope of her neck and lazily hanging off her shoulder. “Um, hello?” she gawks, but instead of answering, he leads her down the hall and towards the tunnel to the next the building. “At least tell me where we’re going.”

       “You’re gonna teach me how to bake!” 

       “But what about-” 

       He cuts her off with two fingers pressed to her lips, simply shaking his head as he holds the door open. What’s more annoying is that she likes how this feel, and how oddly organic it is for their footsteps to sync up like a well-oiled machine. And please, someone stop her from wanting to stay like this for longer or thinking about how cold she’ll be once this protective belt disappears.

***

Saturday, September 27, 2008

       It’s been a little over a week since Harry had come over to study, and in that week, they still haven’t opened up on the subject. And to be quite frank, it’s been driving Y/n absolutely bonkers! She still doesn’t know where this puts them, or whether she’s looking too far into the situation and she should save herself the embarrassment and forget anything had ever happened.  

       Right now, it’s about ten in the morning, and Y/n is still lying in bed trying to figure out these pesky feelings. On a typical Saturday morning she would have already whipped up some breakfast for her family, but now she can barely focus on anything but checking if he’s sent her a new text. 

       A knock on the door brings her out of it, and she answers back in an aloof tone. “Come in.” Her eyes lazily flick over in its direction as the hinges begin to squeak. When the person pokes his head in, the look on his face is already too much for her handle in this state. She pulls the covers over her head to hide herself.

       “Hi, Dad! Good Morning, Dad! How’re you doing today, Dad?” he mocks, striding further into the room. “I bet that’s what other parents get.” She feels the bed dip in by her feet. “Alright, kid. Time to join us in the world of the living.” Very slowly does she feel her blanket being stripped away, until the light from her suddenly exposed window burns brightly on her pupils. “Or else your mom is going to have to come up here, and she’s a lot stronger than I am.”

       “Dad, please,” she whines, and battles him out in a game of tug-of-war for her sheets. “I’m having a crisis here!” 

       “You’re fourteen,” he deadpans. No one could have ever prepared him for the task of having to raise a teenager, he lets his wife know that every morning when he wakes up. In fact, he calls the theme of their little morning chats “complaining rigorously about parenting” or C. R. A. P. as he so fondly refers to it as. Liv isn’t too keen on the acronym, and she lets him know that every single time. 

       “You’re a boy, right?” she suddenly asks, and she sits up and hugs her knees tightly to her chest.

       Jeremy scoffs loudly. “Who’s to say?” But his daughter stares at him with an unwavering seriousness that he swears she must get from her mother because he can barely intimidate his son into taking a bath. Curse Olivia’s prominent genes! “Okay, fine. Yes. Happy?”

       “Very,” she smirks, inching closer, but her demeanor soon switches to a less playful glow. “How do you know if a boy likes you? Like really likes you.” She rests the side of her face on her bended knees and closes her eyes. 

       “I don’t think I understand the question.” 

       “Of course, you don’t, honey.”  

       Olivia waltzes in with a basket of freshly washed and folded clothes balanced on her hip and a warm bagel in the other hand. “You can leave now. I got this,” she tells her husband, shooing him out the door. 

        “Oh, thank god!” he sighs out in relief and runs out the room, but not without giving his wife a tender kiss on the cheek and a wishful “good luck!”

        That leaves both women to sort it all out on their own. Olivia sets everything down before taking Jeremy’s place on the bed. She breathes in deeply and exhales with a warm smile. 

        “So, who’re we talking about?” 

        “Remember that boy who came over last week?”

        It takes a good minute for Olivia to track back to such a long time ago (this last week had been so busy at the clinic so she tends to let other irrelevant details slip her mind), before nodding her head when she finally remembers. “You mean Harry, right? He was such a sweet boy, and so good with Mason, too!” she gushes, clapping her hands as she recalls the kind British boy. Y/n gives her a look, and she soon realizes what this is all about. “Oh, my baby.” And she brings her daughter in for a big hug. 

        “I don’t know what to do,” Y/n mutters into her shirt. “Every time I think I’m going to tell him, I end up chickening out. I hate it!” All the pent-up frustration that had been building up for exactly a week is now coming into light. “Mom, I really like him, like really like Harry. And I don’t know what I’m going to do because he’s all I can think about and it’s literally making me lose my mind!”

        “Why is that?” Olivia asks, stroking over the length of her hair. 

        “Because...” Y/n starts, taking a pause. “Because he tried to kiss me, but it didn’t happen, and we haven’t talked about it since. And now I’m scared that it was just an ‘in the moment’ thing and he probably doesn’t feel the same way and I’m getting my hopes up over absolutely nothing.”

        Liv takes Y/n by the shoulders to face her directly. “First of all, breathe.” She guides her through some breathing exercises to get her elevated heart rate back to normal. “Second...but what if he does feel the same way? Isn’t knowing for sure better than not taking a chance at all?” 

***

Thursday, October 2, 2008

       Harry is just about done and ready to head out when he feels a tap on his shoulder. 

       “Hi, Harry!” Zoey greets cheerfully, twirling her skirt as she twists her hips. 

       “Hey,” he nods as he stuffs his copy of The Scarlet Letter in his bag. He looks left and right to find that it’s only them two left in the hall. It didn’t even occur to him how late he’d stayed back to talk to Miss Arelleno about an upcoming book report because he wanted to make sure that his choice of literature would be appropriate to present on. (Luckily, it was! And he had already managed to outline all the key points he was going to accentuate on.)

        “I was actually hoping I’d find you here,” she admits, leaning against his locker door. 

        “Yeah?” Harry replies, but honestly, he’s barely paying attention because for some reason he can’t seem to find his house keys in his pockets. If he doesn’t find them, he’s absolutely fucked because Gemma doesn’t get home until tonight and Anne is out of town on business. “Sorry, I’m...” Aha! He’d forgotten that he’d placed them –– along with his phone –– in his cardigan pocket before football practice. “What were you saying?” He’s much more attentive this time around.

         She steps closer to him. “I was wondering if you wanted to check out this new diner with me? It’s called Ruben’s and I heard their milkshakes are supposed to be amazing! Plus...” she starts, looking up at him through her long lashes. “The big game is tomorrow and I thought I could help you relax.” 

        “Um...” Harry purses his lips together. “I’m actually going there with Y/n,” he says with a faint blush. “You’re welcome to join us, if you’d like?” 

       A tight smile replaces the flirtatious one she’d been sporting this whole time. She backs away, placing her hands firmly on her hips with displeasure. “No, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” she grits out. 

       He stares down at his watch, his eyes growing wide when he realizes he’s already two minutes late. “Oh, okay” he loosely responds. “Hey, I have to get going, but I’ll see you around.” And he starts jogging down the corridor towards the library where he and Y/n had agreed to meet.

***

Friday, October 3, 2008

       The game against Pleasant Valley has finally arrived. The entire school must be in attendance, as the screams and chants coming from outside are almost deafening. Harry sits on the bench in the locker room as he makes sure his cleats are tied nice and tight. To say he’s nervous may be an understatement. If his time at Ashwood has taught him anything, it’s that they really, really hate Pleasant Valley with a passion to burn a million candles. Just the other day, Coach Davis had given him a very thorough history lesson about the ongoing feud, ending it by begging him to lead them to a victory or else their pride as a school would cease to exist. No pressure, right?

       “Styles!” He turns around to see Coach Davis standing right behind him with his arms crossed and face as serious as can be. “You have a visitor outside,” he says, signaling towards the door. 

       “Who?” he asks thoughtfully. 

       “Heck if I know. Some cheerleader.” 

       Harry’s eyes widen, and a relieved grin washes over his features. He ignores the cackles from his teammates, including teasing about him getting a pre-game reward in an empty classroom. The coach looks at him pointedly, as to say he better make this meeting quick or there would certainly be hell to pay. Harry gulps, slowly slipping off the bench before making a break for the exit.

       When he pushes his way out, there she is standing in midst of the trophy case lighting. He takes a moment to appreciate how angelic she is with her hair pulled back in a braid, and how completely and utterly adorable she looks with the double-knit crossover jacket that embodies her upper frame. She glimpses up, and immediately he feels all the tenseness in his body wash away because she really might be his all-in-one remedy for just about anything. And fuck, he really wishes he could tell her that and all else that’s been simmering inside of him.  

       “Hey there, Mr. Quarterback.” 

       “Come to wish me luck?”

       She cocks her head to the side and simpers at him. “Something like that.” 

       Harry laughs, his shoulders jittering underneath all the padding. Then he takes the first step forward. “Well I’m happy you’re here,” he says. He moves another inch towards her. Reaching out, he grazes the top of her forearm with the pads of his fingers, letting his hand drop down its length until it dares to engulf the back of her open fist. A blush creeps up his neck, and he’s thankful that the hallway is dimly lit this time of night, or else she’d see how completely swept he is just by holding her. 

       And yet, he’s not the only one. Her mind has to remind her heart how to function, but the way he’s looking at her leaves everything a haze. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she confesses, suddenly remembering why it is she’s here. His digits fill the spaces between hers as his thumb encouragingly rubs over the back of hand. It’s pleasantly warm and soft, and she wouldn’t mind if they were to stand there into next week. He prods her to continue, the side of his mouth tugging up and his dimple carving in so exquisitely. She inhales deeply through her nose. 

       “Harry, I-”

       “Styles!” 

       She bites on her bottom lip when Coach Davis appears at the door with his whistle held between his gritted teeth. In no way does he look amused by the fact that one of his key players isn’t inside prepping with the rest of the team. 

       “I’ll be there in a sec, Coach,” Harry yells over his shoulder. He rolls his eyes when he turns back to her. “Sorry, he’s just going through it right now,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “What were you saying?” He squeezes her hand. 

       “I, um...” She looks past him, and the burly individual still stands there so menacingly. He clears his voice and makes a show out of staring at the time on his watch. “You know what,” she gulps. “I’ll just tell you later.” She tries her best to hide her disappointment. 

       “You sure? I mean I have a few more minutes until-”

       “Styles!” 

       Who knew one man could be so impatient? (Oh, wait...) Y/n nods robotically. “I’m sure.” So much for that. 

       A smile suddenly creeps back to her face when a thought lights up in her head. “Here,” she starts, but he begins to frown when she pulls her hand from his grasp. However, his mouth soon becomes a barren stage when she sets both her palms upon his chest, using him as a pillar to lift herself up onto her toes. Without warning, her lips press gently to his cheek. They’re soft and plushy, and everything he imagined they’d be. If he couldn’t feel Davis’ eyes burning holes in the back of his head, he’d be sure this was all a dream. “Win this one for me, and I’ll tell you.” And with that, she falls back flat on her feet, letting her arms fall from his body as she backs away. 

       It takes everything in him to resist the urge to follow her. As soon as her figure disappears into the dark of the hallway, he allows himself to be dragged back into the locker room, his limbs feeling like complete jelly. 

***

       “Where’ve you been?” Cici asks her when she joins the rest of the cheerleaders on the field. She had excused herself to use the restroom over fifteen minutes ago, and now here she is looking as though she’d won a grand raffle. 

       Y/n doesn’t answer, however; she fails miserably to hide even an ounce of her excitement. Despite still not having told him, she hopes that the kiss to cheek will give him even just the slightest hint about her feelings for him. In that moment, she had felt courageous, and now that exuberance is still bursting within her. She sits down and starts with some simple hamstring stretches, while the corners of her mouth still remain turned up. 

       “Oh my god, did you finally tell him?” Cici screams. “What did he say? Holy crap!” 

       “I wasn’t able to, no,” Y/n hums.

       “Then why do you look so happy?”

       Before she can answer, another voice beats her to it. “Yeah, Y/n. Why so happy?” Zoey pushes past a some of the cheerleaders, each sway of her hips greatly emphasized as she walks. “Excited to see Harry lead the team to victory?” she taunts. “Doesn’t he just look amazing in his uniform? Like literally so hot.” She lifts her curled hair away from her neck, and exaggerates as she fans herself. The two minions behind her begin to snigger. 

       Cici resists the urge to smack her in the face, just looking at her makes the blood in her veins boil violently. 

       Although, Y/n remains close-lipped and shrugs without interest at the girl because at this point, she isn’t worth wasting a breath on. She continues with her warmup, not even bothering to look up. Cici smirks on her behalf, waving her hand to send her away. “Why don’t you crawl back to whatever toxic pit you came from, hm?” she mocks. “Buh-bye, now!” Zoey rolls her eyes, snapping her fingers in the air signaling for her two shadows to retreat. “I swear to God, I could honestly strangle her,” Cici exasperates, falling to the ground to joining her. 

       “Don’t worry about her too much, she just wants attention.” Not even Zoey can ruin her mood tonight. 

       A few minutes later, their coach is having them get in position to start their routine for when the football team runs out onto the field. 

***

        “With only ten seconds left on the clock, the Ashwood Eagles need one last touchdown to beat the Pleasant Valley Lions.”

        There are only nine yards separating them and a claimed victory. 

        Ashwood takes their last timeout of the game, and the boys huddle to discuss this crucial next move. Everyone is exhausted, it’s evident by both the sweat on their faces and the way their movements aren’t as aggressive as they were in the beginning. But they can’t give up. With only one touchdown needed to guarantee a win, they need to tough it out for one final play. 

        “They’ve got me, and Adrian guarded,” one of the wide receivers, Brent tells them. “And with Clint out, we’re gonna need a new play.” 

        The captain, Connor, turns to Harry. “Styles, what do you think?” The rest of the team follows suite, and all eyes are on him. 

        Harry looks at each of their faces, his breathing becoming quicker and less calculated as he feels the pressure of the countdown begin to set in. A single touchdown is all that separates them from the quarterfinals, from bragging rights for beating their worst competitor, and finally...

        On the sidelines, the cheerleaders cheer them on without falter, with intricate moves that display both agility and overall school spirit. But only one holds his attention. He smiles brightly when their eyes meet. Her lips wrap around words of encouragement. You can do it! And it’s accompanied by a kiss in the wind. With that, he can feel power begin to sting in his fingertips and that last push to get his head back in the game. After this is all over, nothing is going to stop him from getting to her. 

       “Okay, so here’s what we’re gonna do.”  

***

        The crowd becomes silent once time-in is called. 

        At the nine-yard line, Harry shout the play to his teammates, patting his own helmet to finish it off. He prepares himself for when the center snaps the ball back. 

        “HIKE!”

        The sight of time depleting becomes harder to watch. Richardson snaps the football between his legs, and Harry catches it with ease. The Lions rush towards them, clashing with their defensive line in an almost violent opposition. All hope fades with each one of the receivers being heavily blocked from range. Coach Davis screams at the top of his lungs, calling for Harry to do something as the final five seconds dwindle down. 

        Like slow motion, Harry dashes down the remaining length of the field. The cold October air hitting his cheeks as he runs as fast as his legs can afford. All the shouting coming from around him fades from his ears. He dodges those who rush towards him, leaping over a defensive tackle like his life depends on it. 

        “THAT’S A TOUCHDOWN FOR ASHWOOD!”

        Harry throws the football to the ground. He screams in triumph, tearing the helmet away from his head and letting the breeze brush away the beads of sweat as they fall from the tips of his tussled hair. The team comes at him like a stampede, each member holding the same charged enthusiasm as his own. 

        At this moment, he feels invincible. The adrenaline still flowing vigorously through his veins as he basks in this victory. Everyone runs onto the field, all the coaches, benched players, and all else present on the sidelines. 

***

        Y/n tries to squeeze her way through a sea of excitable fans to get to him.

        This is it. He had won the game just as she had asked of him. Now she’s left with no choice but to finally confess all that she’s been wanting to say. Everything she feels and all that’s been winding her head are finally going to be put out in the open, just as her mom had advised her when they had their heart-to-heart. And for once, she isn’t nervous that she’ll panic or recoil because she’s positive that these feelings are real, that he’s real, and what they have has the potential to become something wonderful. There’s absolutely no reason for her to believe otherwise. It all excites her to the very core, and the closer she gets to reaching him, the more she feels these tingling nerves come alive. 

        “Harry!” she shouts for him as loudly as she can but even then, she’s still too far for him to hear her. To make things more difficult, two football players nearly sandwich her when they come together to bump shoulders with such alarming force. She pushes her way through the pair, her breath catching in her throat when she sees the back of his jersey. 

        When she gets within a closer radius, he finally hears her voice call his name. A smile that reaches his eyes dawns upon him when he turns around and sees her standing just a short distance away. She feels her heart race as she slows her pace to a steady walk. 

        Out of nowhere, a wave of auburn locks cuts in front of her in those last remaining steps. Y/n is brought to a sudden stop as she tries to avoid colliding with the her back. She leans to the side to see Harry staring at the girl with furrowed brows. A smirk comes from over the girl’s shoulder before she turns to come face to face with the quarterback.

        Zoey takes either side of Harry’s face in her hands and pulls him down, and their lips meet halfway. 

        And Y/n’s beating heart stops. ***

[so-shiny-so-chrome]

Witness: Battle_Cat

Creator name (AO3): battle_cat

Creator name (Tumblr): fuckyeahisawthat

Link to creator works: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battle_cat/works

Q: Why the Mad Max Fandom?

A: Fury Road blew my goddamn mind. I like action movies and female action protagonists, but nothing has ever quite hit me like Fury Road. I couldn't stop thinking about it. I had never written fanfic and didn't know what ao3 was, but the characters just wouldn't leave my head. I started seeking out meta on Tumblr, and many of the people who were writing and sharing great meta were also writing fic, and at some point I started thinking, hey, this is a thing I can do. And then I did it, A LOT.

Q: What do you think are some defining aspects of your work? Do you have a style? Recurrent themes?

A: Smut smut and more smut, lol! And sometimes action. I really like writing about intense physical experiences and the emotions they generate. I come from a screenwriting background, so I tend to be terse and am always thinking about how to say the most with the fewest words possible. I love writing characters who find it very hard to talk about their feelings, so Max and Furiosa are pretty much perfect for me.

Q: Which of your works was the most fun to create? The most difficult? Which is your most popular? Most successful? Your favourite overall?

A: Ahhh I can't pick between all of my children! AO3 statistics says Zero to Sixty, my Max-and-Furiosa-get-together fic, is my most popular by hits, kudos and bookmarks, which is not surprising given that it was written early in the fandom. I don't think I can pick a favorite but I have a lot of love for: Desperate Measures, Her Reputation Precedes Her, Hard Run, Tough to be Tender, and Scarf Thing. The only fic I'm still slightly unhappy with: Equinox. I feel like I set up some great tension and then wrapped it up too quickly.

Q: How do you like your wasteland? Gritty? Hopeful? Campy? Soft? Why?

A: Hard but with some humanity left still.

Q: Walk us through your creative process from idea to finished product. What's your prefered environment for creating? How do you get through rough patches?

A: Most of my short pieces are really just a single scene, sometimes with setup and aftermath. Sometimes I'll start with an image (like one of @youkaiyume's excellent smut drawings) or a concept or idea for the scene. Something short, like under 2,000 words, I will ideally sit down and write in one draft, maybe in a day or two. I don't do a lot of drafts, although I do somewhat edit as I go. Something longer like a multi-chapter fic, I usually have a separate Word document with notes and a very rough outline. I usually have the ending or the big climactic scene in my head before I've got everything in the middle figured out. If I'm struggling with something, I'll usually step away and just let my brain chew on it for a while, until I figure out what about it isn't working for me. I learned in grad school that your brain can be doing a lot of creative heavy lifting while you're off doing other things.

Q: What (if any) music do you listen to for help getting those creative juices flowing?

A: I'm not much of a music person, tbh. I have gotten inspiration from fanart, Tumblr submissions and kinkmeme prompts, though.

Q: What is your biggest challenge as a creator?

A: Finding enough time and energy to write. I'm someone who needs big chunks of time to let my brain get into the creative state and this whole having to have a job thing is a real drag.

Q: How have you grown as a creator through your participation in the Mad Max Fandom? How has your work changed? Have you learned anything about yourself?

A: When I saw Fury Road, I had been in a serious writing drought for the better part of a year. I was frustrated and feeling very hopeless about the filmmaking world. Even under the best of conditions, filmmaking is an incredibly slow process with a lot of gatekeepers. Being able to just write something, put it on ao3 and get instant feedback was an incredible breath of fresh air. I remembered my love of writing and found a whole new creative community. I started exploring a new genre, erotica, and learned that I love it. I started writing prose again after a long period of focusing on screenwriting, and gained a new appreciation for what can be done in the short story format.

Q: Which character do you relate to the most, and how does that affect your approach to that character? Is someone else your favourite to portray? How has your understanding of these characters grown through portraying them?

A: Furiosa is the character who lives in my head most vividly. She has a lot of characteristics I tend to put in my original female characters: a certain ruthlessness and hardness; hypercompetence combined with standoffishness punctuated by a few key moments of vulnerability.

Q: Do you ever self-insert, even accidentally?

A: I don't really like talking about characters as self-inserts. I think every character has some part of you in them whether you're aware of it or not.

Q: Do you have any favourite relationships to portray? What interests you about them?

A: Maxiosa for sure. I already had a pattern before Fury Road of writing hard women and caring men, so Furiosa and Max fit right into that. They are both incredibly damaged people who have been the victims and the perpetrators of violence, have a lot of self-loathing, have been isolated in various ways for a long time, and are used to having no one to trust. Bringing those two people together and watching them slowly allow themselves to trust each other is very powerful.

Q: How does your work for the fandom change how you look at the source material?

A: Fury Road is an incredibly rich text and there are so many things that are only hinted at, left unexplained or implied. I've lost count of how many times I've watched it at this point, but there are always more details to notice and spin headcanons about.

Q: Do you prefer to create in one defined chronology or do your works stand alone? Why or why not?

A: For MMFR, I started out writing mostly short smutty one-shots. At a certain point it made sense to start stringing them together, and the ones that take place in the same timeline are now roughly in order in the series Together. It happened organically, though - I tend to write my longer stories non-chronologically anyway, so at some point I realized I was constructing a giant smut novel.

Q: To break or not to break canon? Why?

A: Ehn, I am pretty agnostic on this. Sometimes sticking to canon can be a fun limitation you impose on your story. Other times, ignoring it can be a fun what-if.

Q: Share some headcanons.

A: Ace definitely lived. Nux definitely died historic. Valkyrie is alive in some of my stories and not in others. Dag's baby is a girl and she names her Angharad. Max comes and goes from the Citadel, staying for increasingly longer periods of time. Furiosa often wants to leave, but feels too much responsibility to the new Citadel to ever let herself.

Q: If you work with OCs walk us through your process for creating them. Who are some of your favourites?

A: I haven't created a lot of OCs in the Mad Max world because the canon characters are just so interesting to explore. But when I do they just kind of pop up. Biltong from the story Her Reputation Precedes Her is a personal favorite.

Q: If you create original works, how do those compare to your fan works?

A: My original works are mostly on the action/thriller/horror spectrum. I had never written smut before MMFR, but to me, it's very similar to writing action. You're telling a story through high-intensity physicality and the emotions surrounding it. In my original works, I mostly write female protagonists in high-intensity situations, so it made sense that MMFR would catch my attention.

Q: What are some works by other creators inside and outside of the fandom that have influenced your work?

A: @primarybufferpanel 's Orbit was my fandom gateway drug. @primarybufferpanel, @sacrificethemtothesquid, @lurkinghistoric, @v8roadworrier, @thebyrchentwigges, @thatonezombiecosplayer, @youkaiyume, @ecouter-bien , @bethagain, @fadagaski and @yohunny have all created things that I find inspiring, epic, thrilling, heartbreaking, hot, funny or all of the above. And I'm lucky that I've gotten to know many of them online and in meatspace!

Q: What advice can you give someone who is struggling to make their own works more interesting, compelling, cohesive, etc.? 

A: Stop and ask yourself: What does this character want? Why are they doing what they're doing right now? Concretely, what are they trying to achieve? What are the obstacles? What are the consequences if they don't get what they want? If a scene or story isn't working for me, usually it's because I don't know the answer to one of these questions.

Q: Have you visited or do you plan to visit Australia, Wasteland Weekend, or other Mad Max place?

A: I've been to Wasteland Weekend 3 times (2016, '17, '18) with Clan of the Boltcutters, and plan to go again in 2019. It's been so cool watching our camp and the festival grow and change each year. I had never been to anything remotely like Wasteland before I got involved in the Mad Max fandom, and now I can't imagine it not being part of my year. Australia...maybe someday.

Q: Tell us about a current WIP or planned project.

A: While I've been writing in the Venom fandom lately, I do plan to come back at some point and finish Closer, a story I really liked writing that I just haven't gotten time to get back to. I also have a few lingering MMFR projects that will hopefully be completed later this year.

Thank you @fuckyeahisawthat

[letterboxd]

McCarthy.

“Give me a real character like Lee who’s complicated and irritating and smart.” Melissa McCarthy talks about her Oscar-nominated performance in the acclaimed true story Can You Ever Forgive Me?

In the media discussion building up to this year’s Academy Awards, the talking points have principally concerned decisions regarding the ceremony itself, leaving many of the nominated films somewhat overlooked in the conversation.

One triple-nominee very much worthy of discussion is Marielle Heller’s Can You Ever Forgive Me?, which received nominations for Best Adapted Screenplay (Nicole Holofcener & Jeff Whitty), Best Supporting Actor (the great Richard E. Grant) and Best Actress for Melissa McCarthy’s caustic and hilarious performance as real-life literary forger Lee Israel.

Based upon Israel’s memoir of the same title, Can You Ever Forgive Me? chronicles how the writer (of biographies of Estée Lauder and Tallulah Bankhead, among others) found herself out of favor and out of work in the ’90s New York literary world.

After discovering that letters by famous writers could be highly valuable to certain collectors, Israel took to forging correspondence by people like Dorothy Parker and Noël Coward, and selling the results via rare book stores.

In addition to profiting from the deception, the acerbic Israel also took considerable pride in her ability to capture her subjects’ trademark wit.

There aren’t many movies made about people like Lee Israel, and that’s what makes Can You Ever Forgive Me? so fascinating. The character fails all the obvious (and idiotic) “likability” standards that afflict many mainstream films: she’s an alcoholic misanthrope who lashes out at everyone around her. Yet she’s impossible to look away from, and we remain wholly invested in her throughout every bad decision.

Richard E. Grant co-stars in the film as Jack Hock, an acquaintance who becomes Lee’s friend, and eventually her collaborator, via their mutual affection for booze. More than one person has accurately observed that if you dim your eyes, Hock could easily be Withnail, thirty years later. His Oscar campaign has been one of the most gleeful joys of awards season, and a pleasing reward for an actor who was “told right from the get-go that I looked like a tombstone”.

Mostly taking place in a Manhattan of wood-lined taverns and fusty bookstores, and quietly celebrating some of the city’s longest lasting icons including Julius, the city’s oldest gay bar, Can You Ever Forgive Me? is a minor miracle of a film that represents a new level of achievement for McCarthy.

The Oscar nomination is not her first (she received a Best Supporting nod for Bridesmaids in 2012), but there’s a complexity to her performance here that makes it undeniably special.

Director Heller (The Diary of a Teenage Girl, and currently in production on the Tom Hanks biopic about Mr Rogers) joined McCarthy to discuss the film at a recent AFI event in Hollywood.

On what made Heller want to direct the film: Marielle Heller: I found Lee really refreshing. I feel like we have male [lead] characters who are assholes all the time and we find them to be the most interesting characters, and you never get to see women like that. And so there was something about her I just immediately went, ‘Yeah, we need more women like Lee’. Also, middle-aged women who kind of don’t fit into society’s norms. Childless, lesbian. She didn’t fit into the model of what we make movies about, and so I just thought there was something nice and radical to me about that. It shouldn’t be radical, but it felt really radical. There was something about the fact that her intellect and her work is so much more important than her appearance, that I loved. And that she’s genuinely the smartest person in every room, but no one gives her that credit.

Marielle Heller directs Melissa McCarthy on the set of ‘Can You Ever Forgive Me?’

On how McCarthy heard about the role: Melissa McCarthy: I had a very quick introduction to Lee. I heard about it first from my husband [Ben Falcone]. There was an earlier incarnation of the movie—movies fall apart all the time for a million different reasons—and my husband had a part in it, the part he ended up playing in this one [of a rare book dealer], and that’s how I read it. We read each other’s scripts and talked about it and after I read it I was like, ‘This is incredible, this is so good and why on earth don’t I know who Lee Israel is?’. I was disappointed with myself that I didn’t know about her.

On McCarthy’s response to the character as written: MM: I had a very strong reaction. I was at page twenty and I thought, ‘Oh I like her so much’. And then I had to stop and I went back through the first twenty pages, because I couldn’t figure out why. It was intangible. There’s no moment, there’s no speech. I started to fall in love with her, and that to me was the most exciting thing. I find her intriguing, challenging. I loved that she didn’t need someone else to validate who she was. Even when she is difficult, which is often. I respected her.

It also just made me think about being so talented at something and being told at 52, ‘You know, we don’t need you to do that anymore. You’re now obsolete.’ So as someone gets better and better and more experienced, the average thing is ‘Now you’re obsolete’. I just found that whole way of thinking so insane, that I thought, what would any of us do if we were pushed to that point? So the more she kind of conned and grifted, I found myself rooting for her.

On how she got into Lee’s headspace: MM: I read everything she wrote. I also listened to stories from people who actually knew Lee, and then there is a bit of conjuring. You just wanna do right by the people. The costume and wardrobe department were very important because I had no interest in looking like myself. I think it’s really freeing to get to walk around in other people’s shoes and I think that allows you to be braver and more vulnerable. It’s a very fantastic part of what I do, I think you get to be steadier or more empowered because it’s happening through someone else. It takes the pressure off of me.

I have a real fascination in what drives us all. What our quirks are. I don’t know any perfect woman, I don’t know how to play pleasant or blonde. Give me a real character like Lee who’s complicated and irritating and smart and all these things that when I look at someone, it makes you kinda fall in love with them. All my friends are nuts. They always need a qualifier like, ‘They’re actually great, just get to know them’. That’s why we love people. You don’t love people because they’re pleasant, you love them because they’ll talk too much or say the wrong thing, but they’ll show up at 3 o’clock when you don’t feel well and help you. It’s so rare that you get to play a woman like that. Those are the women that I know. They’re complicated and challenging.

On Jack and Lee’s friendship: MM: They were both so lonely. And it’s such a universal thing. I don’t know a human that hasn’t felt incredibly lonely and undervalued. We are all so lonely. I think everyone can feel that tether to those characters, and it’s why even though they shouldn’t have been friends, they needed each other.

On Melissa and Richard’s friendship: MH: Those two loved each other from the day they met in a way that was like, every director’s dream, because they showed up and immediately got along. Richard would show up on days he wasn’t filming and take Melissa to lunch. It was amazing because they were truly becoming friends on this movie and when we got to the scene where they were essentially breaking up, they had to hug each other afterwards because it was so painful.

On working alongside Richard E. Grant: MM: He’s so completely present as a person, and that certainly translates into his beautiful acting because he is 1,000% there. If you go this way, he goes with you. There’s just an ease to it. And we do sometimes these incredibly difficult scenes that were just heartbreaking, and then when we finished, we’d both become very silly and throwaway, which is really important sometimes when you’re shooting something that’s difficult. And then we’d go right back to it. I had such an ease working with him. I think we work in a very similar way. I think we fully commit, right or wrong, and trusted that Marielle is at the helm of a ship and she did it with complete authority and a complete lightness at the same time.

Richard E. Grant and Melissa McCarthy in ‘Can You Ever Forgive Me?’

On the benefits of having a female director: MM: Hands down it was fantastic. And I’ve been very fortunate to work a lot of wonderful male directors [who] also have a quote-unquote ‘feminine side’, my husband, Paul Feig, Ted Melfi, they all have a capacity to listen and be collaborative. I think with Mari, what always sticks in my head, there was never a moment where you didn’t feel completely guided. And the crew, you could see it, really felt like they were all part of this, we knew exactly what Mari’s vision is. And working in this kind of time frame, you need that cohesiveness, and you need someone���I think it’s more likely to happen with a female director—you need someone to do the right thing for the movie, instead of proving that they’re right. And there’s a big difference there. And when you get someone like Mari doing that, the world just falls into place.

On approaching a dramatic role versus a comedic role: MM: There’s absolutely no difference to me. If it’s comedy or drama, it doesn’t change for me at all, I think if it’s a straight comedy, I still try to find, or I’m least very interested in, like, what’s tragic about that person. Like, if they’re so overly pleasant and happy, why? What pain are they hiding? So I do the same thing, if someone’s really aggressive, what’s behind that? So I change nothing. Maybe you’re supposed to, but I don’t.

‘Can You Ever Forgive Me?’ is currently available on all the major streaming services. Reporting by West Coast Editor Dominic Corry.

[spilledwink]

part 1

of my tribute to @stylesmixed

It was two years ago that everything fell apart. It was only 3 months ago since a battle that had left Freya shuffling through the used to be magnificently magical double doors that lead into the great hall. Gasps left the mouths of her housemates as they saw the reform of the had been front line. Even she could not help but to raise her eyebrows at the work that the ministry, and Freya guessed, the professors and older students had put in.

Instead of four segregated vertical tables set, there was now eight smaller jumbled and hectically placed tables all distributed over the stone floor. House unity was important to Miss Mcgonagle's new regime, one that Freya had full support in. she would now be able to enjoy the social company of any and all of her peers instead of dodging jinxes from immature little second years or have to listen to the droning gossip of the theatrical seventh years that would be them in a years time.

A year used to feel like a tick of a clock to Freya. Ever since her almost fatal fifth year however, she had learned that three hundred and sixty five days could make a lot of difference.  With only 3 months Hogwarts was back to its former chaotic self. Thank Merlin for magic.

The stampede of students almost overwhelmed her as she was carried off to what was now the sixth year table, at the far left of the hall. Something was different however. Not just the fact that there were now less students or in the fact that even the younger kids had a slightly jaded look in their eyes, she just couldn't put her finger on it. Don't take it the wrong way, after an excruciating summer most were all too ecstatic to be back. Especially those taking their OWLS that year. Freya had the sudden realisation of how unprepared she was every ten minutes or so. Stop thinking, she thought, it’s a whole year away, not a week. Besides if they can rebuild this post apocalyptic wasteland in three months, you can learn a syllabus in a year.

Freyja was only pulled out of her worries as her arm was tugged gently by the friend who had sat by her the whole journey back. Fatima was already sat down, looking up at her. Fatima was tiny in the way she sat and the way she spoke which was unusual for a gryffindor however Freyja knew the bravery that lay just beneath the surface, she had seen it.

“Are you okay?” Fatima spoke as Freya flumped down beside her.

“Yeah of course” Freya would rather look down at the table than have to look at Fatima’s raised eyebrows.

“Yeah okay, if you say so,” fatima said nonchalantly.

Freya made the mistake of taking a peak at Fatima's face only to be met with that explosive smile that was so uniquely brilliant to her. Fatima was not conventionally pretty. She didn't have porcelain skin and a little button nose but Merlin did she have the most gorgeous crooked, toothy grin and beautiful mind. In Freya’s opinion, Fatima should have been sorted into ravenclaw. She was so curious to learn and everything that could be known about everything was in that little head of hers. Freya loved her. They had never been as close as you would think however Fatima was always a quiet companion to all life's events, big or small. They only became friends over the past year. Freya was always too driven and opinionated and closed off  for Fatima and Fatima was always too quiet and studious for the other girl. They went from being amicable acquaintances to joining forces for a common goal, a resistance they could both get behind. And in the most important ways they weren’t that different. They had the same fears of failure and the same hopes for the future of the wizarding world and despite them not having an enemy uniting them, they still decided to stick around.

Looking over at the obvious first year table that was still completely empty, Freya had a sudden burst of excitement. At around this time the little kids would be rowing, staring wide eyed and wide mouthed at their enchanting  new home. They would feel the nervous excitement of being sorted and find where they fit into this bewitching world. The fondness of the memory gave a spring of hope into her heart. Maybe this year wouldn't be so bad after all...

***

“This crumble!” exclaimed Freya “I missed this fucking crumble!” A hufflepuff girl from opposite giggled and looked up,”I know right! It's what home tastes of”

Freya smiled back. Her and the stout red headed stranger in front of her both melted into their own seat at the same time with an audible sigh after taking another mouth full of the syrupy dessert. This caused them to glance up at each other and erupt with laughter at their mutual appreciation for a good rhubarb and apple crumple. Even Fatima joined in when the red headed hufflepuff ended up spilling custard in the middle of their hysterics. Their laughter only came to a close when they heard an amplified clearing of a throat that was clearly an attempt at quietening down the students getting to know one another all over again.

The whole hall turned to face the front of the great hall to see Miss Mcgonagall in her full glory for the first time. She was wearing her usual formal witches hat and juniper dress that she used to wear every year at the welcoming feast. This time however she was not the one to sort the first years but the one give the headmistresses speech.

Freya would never admit this to anyone but she secretly thought that Miss Mcgonagall becoming head mistress was the best thing for the school. She would miss having her for a transfiguration teacher but she was fair and stern and possessed more compassion than she thought an old scottish witch could ever have.

“So, boys and girls, i would like to start by saying welcome to those coming back and to those joining us for the first time,” she spoke expressively, “as you can see there are many changes being made to help run this school in a more cohesive and effectively. The dorms will now be sectioned into years where you will be roomed with a mixture of people. Friends can come from a multitude of places, we  all just need to have an open mind.” her voice became stern then, “This year may well be difficult for all of us. We need each other, a community, a home, in which we can learn safely and happily. I know that each each everyone of you will be supportive and make this happen, with help and support of teachers and prefects.” she softened again, “the door to my office is always open.”

The whole hall was silent, looking down at their hands or their food. A jaunty laugh pierced the silence then while miss mcgonagall cleared her throat clearly misty eyes, “right then. Now a reminder rules for those who need reminding….”

***

The great hall never looked this big. Maybe it was the reconstruction or maybe it was the decrease in population but it was starting to swallow freyja up. The hornets nest in her chest had started to pipe up. Escape was the only word on her mind. Fatima saw her wide eyes but it was too late. It was better to vomit in the entrance hall where only filch would have to see it to clean it up.

She felt as if she were under water. Running but never fast enough like every dream she’s had for the past months. The sound of clattering cutlery and cacophonous voices had turned into a bustling madness. It sounded too far away and yet so intensely close that she felt her eyes water.

Only when the cold air from the vacuous entrance hall hit her skin did she finally feel a gasp of breath punch her lungs. She could see in front of her. The watery eyes had made everything look as if it was a monet painting so instead of trying to find her way through the changing staircases and avoiding the school caretaker, she decided to walk back until the cold stone wall hit her shoulder blades and slid down with an exhausted thump. Keep breathing, she reminded herself, you will not cry. She kept the mantra going until she finally could hear the kerfuffle of the great hall over her hurried heartbeat.

“You too?” a soft voice from her right sighed.

Turning her head way too fast she saw a girl in almost the same position sitting a few metres down the stone wall. Freya wiped her eyes and sniffled looking closer and squinting without her much needed glasses. It was Em, a fellow gryffindor 6th year. They ran in different circles and freyja didn't remember the last time they spoke despite sharing a common room. A wave of familiarity enveloped freyja as she saw a similar demeanor of her own. This other girl however had a soft smile and a knowing glint in her eye.

Freyja coughed “yeah” and looked away noticing that they had held eye contact for a little too long to be comfortable. Freyja looked away taking a deep breath “i guess i should have expected that this year would be hard on everyone.”

“Well” the soft voice spoke “at least we know we're not alone right?”

“Right”

[rmf808]

Worldwide Group Meditation May 31, 2017 8pm PST

Tonight we are going to focus on aligning the second chakra.

https://youtu.be/OONFKPHEgYY

This is the soundscape to have on in the background and if you can, place your feet in a tub of salt water. The reason for this is to increase the conductivity of the magnetic field of the earth. Add anywhere from 2 tbsp to half of a cup of salt per gallon of water. This isn’t exact science so don’t worry to much about this. Though, more is better as magnetic conductivity increases as the number of charge carriers increase. On average, the ocean is 3% saltwater solution.

This is what the Chopra Center has to say on the second chakra, Svadhisthana. It is also known as the creativity and sexual chakra. It is located above the pubic bone and below the navel, and encompasses the genital region and the hypogastric plexus. The word svadhisthana can be translated as “the dwelling place of the self,” and the element of the second chakra is water, which equals cohesiveness. A balanced second chakra leads to feelings of wellness, abundance, pleasure, and joy. When this chakra is out of balance, a person may experience emotional instability, fear of change, sexual dysfunction, depression, or addictions. You can open this chakra with creative expression and by honoring your body. The energy of this chakra is feminine, passive, and lunar. Creativity: The Focus of The Second Chakra As humans, it is part of our nature to create. This creativity can be expressed as procreation but the second chakra energy is certainly not limited to making babies. When we cook, bake, or garden, we are creating. We create when we find a new solution to an old problem. Any time we take raw materials, physical or mental, and transform them into something new, we are using our creative energy.

The problem with creativity is that we are often discouraged from creative efforts, starting with education. Once we pass through the phase where coloring, painting, or cutting paper is completely acceptable, it seems that we must mold into less creative beings. In order to conform, follow the rules and fit in, we sometimes lose our creative energy and thus, our unique ideas in the process. Adults become used to following what’s right, the latest trend, or what’s acceptable to others. Then, when asked to abstractly invent something new, we might have a difficult time doing it.

Play Like a Child to Awaken Your Creative Energy We might feel open and creative in some aspects of life, while self-conscious in others. Ask me to write a book or essay and I can perform with ease. But if you ask me to draw a picture, paint, or even create a great meal without a recipe to follow, I feel much less than skilled. But, if you told me I had to paint a nice picture because my life depended on it, I would most likely rise to the occasion. Why? Because I would take the risk to get the job done.

The reason, that we stopped being creative or stopped taking risks creatively, is because along the way, someone told us that we weren’t good or that we couldn’t do it. In opening your second chakra energy, you must take risks and not be afraid of failure.

Play is a great way to begin this opening. Have you ever watched a child play? A child will spend several hours building a Lego tower, a sandcastle, or an exquisite dollhouse. Then, the same child will smash their masterpiece in an instant and start over from scratch as if it was no big deal.

Start to play like a child. If your gourmet meal doesn’t turn out, so what? If your potted plant dies in a week, plant another one. And yes, if your work project is a flop, it doesn’t mean your career is over. Like the child at play, start again. You have an infinite amount of creative energy within you, so use it.

How to Balance Svadhisthana Besides being open to creativity in your daily life, you can balance the second chakra by maintaining a healthy sexual life and honoring and respecting your body. Get in touch with your emotions and see if there are any feelings you’re holding onto. Make a commitment to process those emotions in a healthy way.

Meditation with focus on the second chakra brings about personal magnetism, refinement in behavior, freedom from diseases, and longevity.

Find a quiet place and a comfortable chair and warm saltwater for the feet. Having eyes closed helps me look inward as to not be distracted by anything registered by the eyes but feel free to have them open if you like. I bring my thumbs, index, middle fingers and pinkies together and leave my ring fingers unconnected to operate as a ground to the universe.

We will begin focusing on our breath. Sixteen in fact. Be sure to fill your diaphragm completely and make your stomach extend to finish inhalation. On exhale, be sure to focus on getting as much air out of you lungs as possible. Flex your abdominals and “crunch” your torso if possible. Remember that we all share the same atmosphere for air so know that your exhale gets passed on to the next person for inhale as the person near you has exhaled for your next breath. Some may want to use left nostril breathing. Left nostril breathing called Ida Nadi breathing will help to open up the second chakra as it brings forth lunar energy. Simply close your right nostril with the first two fingers of your right hand and inhale and exhale through the left nostril.

First breath, inhale for one second and be sure to fill your diaphragm completely then exhale for one second completely evacuating your lungs. Second breath, two seconds both in and out each. Third three seconds in, three seconds out all the way up to sixteen. Sixteen seconds spent inhaling then sixteen seconds exhaling. All the while picture that “good ass prana” aka air causing all of your chakras to spin like pinwheels. They all spin in one direction on inhale and the opposite direction on exhalation.

Now that we are aligned, focus on your second chakra. Notice that it is spinning in alignment with all other chakras. Consider what this second chakra means to you and how you encourage it in your everyday life. Are there ways that we can improve this and how do we play? Whenever you feel like you have reached your journey’s end use your breath to bring you back to wakeful consciousness. Begin with the single breath for a duration of one second in and one second out. Continue on in this manner once again until you reach your sixteenth breath. After your last breath you should be able to open your eyes and feel refreshed, aware & rejuvenated. Don’t expect to feel anyone during your meditation as you should be looking inward rather than outward but you may feel as if your focus has increased and possibly the result of your meditation magnified. Please do share your experience with all of us. Was there anything specific that came to you that you weren’t expecting? When are you going to play next? Tell us how the breathing technique worked for you. Did you use left nostril breathing? Was it your first time? And lastly, do tell us about your saltwater experience. May the awareness of the field be with you. YOU ARE THE FIELD. Mahalo, aloha & namasté

[dustiesmasseffect]

You used to be realy active and nice and freindly, and now it seems like you only reblog art and talk to your blogger freinds who you write MEL with. You ignor asks and you ignor fandom memes. What happened to suporting smaller bloggers? What hapened to you? Its like you got populer and just forgot about your old friends.

Hi Anon-

TBH, this message took me by surprise.

Let me try and unpack your Ask a bit because I feel likeperhaps I hurt feelings or did something wrong unintentionally. I also could gointo all the things happening in my life on the other side of this screen, butyou don’t need a bio (and I don’t think I should have to write one either).

First of all, I will say that I did actually make a postback in October about stepping back from the blog. This was a purposefuldecision of mine because I was spending a lot of my days in front of mycomputer during work, after work, andon the weekends scheduling and tagging posts. I was putting up 4 posts an hourfor 24 hours at the time, meaning I was tagging and scheduling nearly 100posts/day. I did this for several MONTHS. My social life took a dive, mysleeping schedule took a dive, and I wasn’t doing anything but running theblog. I call(ed) DME my “second job” when I talked about it with myfriends. That’s how much time I was spending on it.

Until about 2-3 weeks ago, I had cut the schedule back to 2posts/hour with a small queue running for a few hours during the middle of thenight. That’s still a lot of work for me, but it allowed me some personalpursuits off of the computer which is what I need to recharge.

With the new Andromeda trailers dropping more frequently andfandom content going into overdrive, I’ve had to up my posting schedule againto even try and keep up. Even when I’m “on top” of things I find I’mstill behind and I’m not catching up.

This breaks my heart because I feel like I’m letting peopledown. I am only one person though, so it’s important that it’s understood thatI’m doing the best that I can.

As for only reblogging art, I am sad to say that this istrue and I feel HUGELY guilty about it. The main reason why this happens isthat I want to read every piece of fiction I post and reading a story takes alot longer than looking at a work of fan art. I honestly have about 200 storiesfrom the fandom in my drafts that I want to read before I post. It’s horribleand rude and terrible of me. I can’t read it all like I want, I haven’t readANYTHING for fun in months, actually, because I’m too tired to when I finallyget to bed. It’s an excuse, yes, but it’s the truth.

I try to talk to everyone that messages me. Sometimes I’mable to reply right away and other times it can take me a week or two (ormore!) to answer. I’ve never been the best at conversations, even though I ambetter at written ones than verbal ones. (I am also terrible with replies because they take me forever to do.)

As for only talking to @omegastation and other MEL folks,that’s blatantly untrue and I’m not really sure where that assumption camefrom. I am sorry if it appears that way, but it’s definitely not the case. Yes,we talk, but those discussions of late are incredibly short and MEL business related andless of fun, “Hey what’s up and how are you doing?” convos.

In regards to Asks and memes, I actually try to answer asmany asks as I can and I often answer privately because that’s what’s warrantedby the message I’m sent. As for other Asks, I put a lot of time and thoughtinto them and they can take me quite a while to answer. However, because ofyour message, I’ve tried to go through as many of them as I can because it wasa task I had been neglecting. There are a couple of them that I will take sometime to answer still, but for the most part, I hope I’ve caught up.

Memes are also something that take me awhile to do. HonestlyI love(d) doing them for quite a while, but I became overburdened with themquickly. I also stopped getting emails from Tumblr over a year ago, so I onlysee posts I’m tagged in if I happen to see the tag in my notifications.Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. Getting tagged in something is an honor andI am really happy that people think of me when they do them. 

It’s incrediblydifficult for me to do memes though because I want to do them right and notfast. I also get stressed and anxious about tagging other bloggers and doingchain messages because I always feel like I’m leaving people out and I don’twant others to have hurt feelings by not getting a message/tag. It’s a funpractice, but it can also cause hurt unintentionally. I kinda unofficiallystopped doing them for this reason. I want to tag EVERYONE, but I can’t, so Ijust don’t do them.

I support everyone and try to do so fairly. I’ve spent mostof my time in the tag now for the better part of a month, reblogging as much asI can. I know I’m missing posts but that’s basically because there is SO MUCHNEW CONTENT I cannot keep up. I try to reblog and showcase as many differentpeople and blogs as I can, but with the sheer amount of stuff going aroundright now, I am bound to miss some. I have considered opening my submissions tohelp with this, but in all honesty I prefer to reblog.

I haven’t forgotten about anyone. In reality this franchisehas a huge fan base and our “little” community that existed sixmonths ago has grown again as people have started coming back to Mass Effect asAndromeda approaches. Mass Effect 3 sold over 3.5 million copies on its own in itsFIRST MONTH OF RELEASE, which means that there are a TON of fans out there.Some of the fans weren’t as vocal until the Andromeda hype machines startedfull blast, but they’re back and excited now, and I’m happy that everyone ishere.

The thing is that now the community feels bigger and lesscohesive than it did last year. It’s not really, but it FEELS that way andthere’s so much content being produced daily that folks like me, who want toget as much Mass Effect in one spot, are having a hard time collating andorganizing it all. I physically can’t keep up, even if I spend all my wakinghours doing it.

Yes, I realize that perhaps my break seemed like I wasturning my back on the community and that’s definitely not the case. I had to step back for me and my mentalhealth. I miss the community and the friends I have here for sure. I misswriting! I miss talking to people about their Sheps. I miss lots of aspects ofTumblr that I was more active in 6 months ago. But I could not and cannot keepup with it all without it being detrimental to my life outside of the computerscreen.

I’m trying. I really am. I am sorry if I somehow missed apost of yours and didn’t reblog it. I’m sorry if there are mutuals who feelthat I’ve not boosted them enough. I’m sorry if I’ve left IM messagesunanswered. To be honest, I hardly feel “popular” and I kind of feelthe most hurt about that remark more than anything.

My goal has always been to make this blog a nice place forpeople to appreciate a game franchise they love and I hope I’m still doingthat, even if I’ve been unable to be directly in the thick of things for awhile now.

This is already much longer than I intended (or than itshould be) but clearly this is a topic that should be addressed.

I can only apologize for my extended “satellite” absence and ask for theunderstanding as to why I needed to and continue to do it.

Sincerely,Marina, AKA Dustie

[molliebalshawlevel4]

Models of Practice Research pt 3

Step 1: Develop Art Skills

When starting as an artist, it's important to practice as much as possible, experiment with a variety of media, and study examples of art. Books on basic, intermediate, and advanced techniques in many art forms can be found at bookstores and libraries to aid in practice. Instructional materials can also be found online, sometimes at no cost. Art colleges typically require a portfolio review in their admissions requirements, so it's essential that aspiring artists be able to demonstrate an understanding of basic art techniques and concepts.

Aspiring artists can take classes at local art and community centres. These classes can be beneficial in helping refine and develop artistic skills without the costs associated with college. Classes can also serve as a place to receive constructive criticism and portfolio assistance when applying for college.

Step 2: Earn a Degree

Fine artists usually don't need a college degree, but they can benefit from the experience and opportunities for professional development available in college. College art programs can also provide students with access to equipment and materials they may not have otherwise, such as printing presses or kilns. Some art schools are career-focused; others incorporate studio art classes into a liberal-arts curriculum. If an artist plans to be an art teacher or art director, higher education may be required. Fine Arts programs are available at the associate's, bachelors, and master's levels and, more rarely, at the doctoral level.

Success Tips:

Participate in an internship. Internships provide students with the chance to expand on the skills they learn in a classroom and gain valuable first-hand experience working in the field. Internships can also help artists network and form relationships that can be beneficial in the future. For example, an internship at an art gallery could later lead to that same gallery showcasing a student's artwork.

Take business and marketing courses. Since artists are often self-employed, training in business and marketing can help them promote and manage their work after graduation. If an artist plans to sell art directly to the public, these classes could be especially beneficial.

Step 3: Develop a Portfolio

As in most creative fields, a fine or visual artist is expected to develop a portfolio that demonstrates his/her capabilities to potential clients or employers. The purpose of a portfolio is to highlight the artist's best work, display a unique style, and show the direction in which the artist is working. Artists should have both hard copies and digital copies of their portfolios available.

+    http://study.com/becoming_an_artist.html

Despite the old adage, living as an artist–yes, a real fingers-in-the-paint kind of artist–is indeed a viable career option today.

The recession and low employment rate have left many Americans with no other option but to stray from conventional 9-5 jobs and forge alternative career paths.  For some, this may be a blessing in disguise, encouraging contemplation of a broader range of possibilities when it comes to generating income.  Working as a professional artist, getting the rent paid on time and going to sleep with a full stomach every night is feasible; it just takes some planning and preparedness.

Here are three keys to getting there, based on the expertise of seasoned artists:

1. Be Okay With Using Various Revenue Streams:

What feeds an artist’s income varies from case to case.  For instance, Sculptor A and Sculptor B technically have the same job title, but they may make money in completely different ways.  Perhaps Sculptor A plans to earn all of her income through public art commissions, while Sculptor B strives to rely exclusively on Web sales.

Artist and ArtBistro blogger Valerie Atkisson offers evidence that neither Sculptor A nor B are working toward the most cushy financial situation.  In her post, “How do Artists Make Money?” Atkisson shows how in a profession that often lacks traditional benefits and job security; it’s useful to rely on multiple sources of income, such as gallery showings, teaching positions, Web sales, commission projects and grants.

According to photographer Ken Gonzales-Day, dabbling in such an array of moneymaking pools allows artists to discover which methods are the most lucrative.  “It's very difficult for artists to make a living purely off artwork sales.  Sometimes they can get away with this for five years or so, but the demand is extremely unpredictable," he said.  Gonzales-Day is a professor of photography but he doesn't rely solely on that salary.  “I make about 25-30% of my income from other sources such as speaking gigs, public art commissions and publishing.  None of these generates a huge amount of money, but it all adds up," he explained.

Although it may be tempting to put all the eggs in one basket and go full throttle from the get-go–by opening a gallery, let’s say–it’s safer for starting artists to invest a little in a lot.  This way, if the gallery sales are weak, he or she still has multiple other sources of income to fall back on.  The downside?  The artist will have a much fuller plate.  The upside?  The artist has way more options.  If the potatoes are unpalatably undercooked, at least there’s still the turkey, stuffing and pie.

2. Be Weird:

Being outlandish is probably a bad idea at most jobs, but it’s an asset in this profession.  In her post “Why Weird Is Wonderful (And Bankable),” Forbes Contributor Jessica Hagy rather artistically draws, graphs and writes about the value in abnormality.  Hagy explains that the less normal something is, the more memorable it tends to be.

To sell art, it helps to grab the viewer's attention by creating works that are distinctly different from what already exists.  It's also smart for an artist to cultivate an aesthetic that is markedly his or her own.  Famed artists such as Picasso, Van Gogh, Degas, Monet, Warhol, and Close all have one thing in common: their works look nothing alike.  After seeing a few Picasso pieces, it’s easy to select which is the Picasso out of a bunch.  Such cohesiveness shows a level of control and deliberation that can be visually enticing.

As Gonzales-Day explained, "Artists who work to create a brand around their names will have more opportunities to engage in various projects."  If someone associates an artist's name with his or her distinguished style, invitations to work, speak and teach are more likely to ensue.

In a recent lecture entitled “How to Succeed as an Artist,” artist and career advisor Paul Klein emphasized the importance of being different.  He insinuated that distinctiveness generates sales–even more so than quality.  “Can’t all of us name artists who are doing really well monetarily; whose work we think sucks?”  The branded artist doesn't necessarily produce better work, but more bankable work.

3.  Have the Right Mindset

Passion and talent aren’t the only qualifications for becoming a professional artist.  It takes a certain type of person who accepts the unconventional challenges of this job.  They must be able to tolerate criticism of their work and posses the drive necessary to independently charter their own career paths.

Along with the complexities, this career has its advantages.  Most artists have full power over their business decisions, selling strategies and creative choices.  According to Gonzales-Day, living as an artist is an ongoing journey, both literally and figuratively.  “This spring I've already travelled to Paris, Santa Barbara, San Diego, Washington D.C. and Los Angeles for projects and events," he said, emphasizing travel as a major perk that comes with his profession.

With no clear road to reach success as an artist, it may be too structureless for some.  But for others, the flexibility is advantageous.  If the path of a lawyer is like a bamboo plant, an artist's is like ivy.  As anyone who's been to the English Countryside knows, ivy can flourish despite its unpredictable form.  In the words of Gonzales-Day: "It's an organic business model."

+    https://www.forbes.com/sites/rachelhennessey/2013/04/02/3-keys-to-making-it-as-an-artist-without-starving/#38343f6c2fac

How to build a career as an artist

Posted in: Finding a career, Networking February 6th, 2009

Here’s a post for all the people who are trying to be artists. It is not a friendly post. I do not think that people who want to create art need to get paid to do it. Do you get paid to have sex? No. Same thing. You love it, but you just do it after work. And sometimes, if you are driven mad by it, you leave work in the middle of the day for it.

Treat art the same way, and you will stay sane. Really. Here are five things I would nag you about if you were talking with me about your burgeoning career as an artist:

1. You cannot do art if you are starving.  The starving artist routine is total bullshit. I know because I did it. Once you know that you are not going to make rent, you can’t really make art. Because your sense of self-preservation insists that your brain focus on the possibility that you will be out on the street. Your brain cannot stop solving that problem long enough to solve the problem of what is truth and beauty.

Here are some things I did while I was becoming a writer: I ate only bagels because I didn’t have enough money for anything else and then I got anemic and had to go to the doctor but I didn’t have health insurance so I had to lie and say I did in order to get the iron pills I needed so that I didn’t pass out from exhaustion the moment I woke up in the morning. Believe me, I was not making great art during this period.

2. Art emanating from a black hole is a choice. There’s a reason that Jean-Michel Basquiat’s paintings look like horror films: Because his life was a crack-house horror film. And there’s a reason that Picasso is tearing apart voluptuous women in gorgeous surroundings: That’s what he did in real life.

So don’t kid yourself: Your art reflects your surroundings, and you can live like a pauper, but that limits the range of your art.

During my art days, I did not go out with friends. Ever. Because I didn’t even have enough money to go to a coffee shop. And I was always cold because I lived in Boston and didn’t have a winter coat. At many points I did not have a home, so I just sort of carried my laptop around and wrote and hoped that something would come up by the end of the day. And I almost never had clean clothes because I didn’t have money to buy detergent.

So I wrote stories, every day, about not seeing anyone, and my mentor would say things like, “How about adding a character so that the narrator can have a conversation?” And that would strike me as a revolutionary idea.

3. Real artists will make art no matter what. You do not need a studio, or a desk, or peace and quiet. Really. Because making art comes from a place that you cannot stop. People who need to make art make art no matter what.

Do you know how many blog posts I throw out? Maybe two a week. Because sometimes something happens and I absolutely have to write about it, and I see, from the beginning, that there’s no way I’ll be able to relate it to careers, so it’s going to end up in the blogging trash can. But I write it anyway.

Do you know Christo and Jeanne-Claude? Wait. Here, look at some photos. The guy is nuts. He thinks so big that it makes him crazy. He’s been making plans to put up cloth all over Central Park for 26 years. He can’t stop himself. Finally, he did it. But who knew if it would ever happen? This is what I mean. If you need to do art, you just go there. Nothing stops you.

So if you think you’re an artist and you are not making art now, but you think that in the right circumstance you’d make art, you are lying to yourself. I’m sorry. But it’s true. Unless you are starving. If you are starving, see point number one: You need to get a job.

4. You do not need to quit your day job. Are you making money and you’re wondering if you should quit your job to do art full time? Take this test: Did you marry rich? Do you have a trust fund? Do you have reliable buyers for almost everything you produce? If you did not answer yes to any of these, then keep your day job.

Don’t tell me it’s crushing your soul. This whole blog is about how your soul does not depend on your job or your boss or your paycheck. Click on some links and read them.

Also, most corporate jobs can be creative outlets because businesses solve problems. So if you are an inherently creative thinker, you probably bring that to whatever job you have. You can’t stop yourself.

5. You are not a better artist if you can do it full time. I don’t want to see snooty comments on this post about how great you are for being able to support yourself with your art. Because I can do that too. And you know what? I was not a worse writer when I could not support myself. The only difference between artists making money and artists not making money is that the first group is better at business. And there is no evidence that artists who are better at business make better art.