#what the genuine fuck happened to ads in the year or so i had premium

[inexplicably-spookified]

so true tumblr ads putting straight up porn on my feed

[murasaki-murasame]

Since everyone got a free T3 ticket to try and compensate for how much of a shit-show this entire event was, I decided to just go ahead and use it on Grand Narmaya, and while I was at it I got Vane from the new suptix.

So I guess I may as well take the opportunity to give my own two cents on this whole debacle, lol.

Firstly, just to go over why I chose those two units from the free ticket and the suptix, I chose Narmaya over Belial because wind GW is relatively soon, and I currently have over 120 gold moons, so it won’t be that long before I can just get a sierotix normally and use it for Belial, so I just decided that Narmaya was the better option. I’m also just the sort of person who’s always going to be more interested in getting a new character in a game like this compared to a piece of equipment that just boosts my damage.

I was actually genuinely tempted to get Grand Jeanne instead, since I at least thought that it was much more rare for that gala pool to line up with big free summon events and stuff, so it’d be more annoying to try and spark her later, but after going through the records of past banners, I remembered that at the end of each year we get a flash gala at the end of December during roulette season, right before the new years premium gala. I was already planning to try and save a spark for around then anyway, so I figured at that point I may as well get Narmaya now, and just commit to sparking Jeanne at the end of the year. If I get lucky I might also have a full spark saved by the time the regular December flash gala with new Christmas characters comes out, so I could maybe spark her then and get some new Christmas units along the way.

As for the suptix, I’ve been wanting Vane for ages just because I like him, so even though there’s definitely better options, even within the water element alone, it was a pretty easy choice. I was kinda tempted to pick Shion instead to make fire GW easier, but that’s the only place I’d ever use her, and since I’ve already started switching over to my Ixaba Agni grid, I should be able to OTK there pretty easily without her, and I don’t think I have the overall grid strength needed to achieve a one-button OTK with her, so there wouldn’t even be a huge difference between what I could accomplish with her now and what I can already do with the characters I have.

Anyway, all that aside, the lottery sure was completely awful in every way, lol. I guess there’s no point going into much detail about it since there’s already been so much discourse about it, but I’m 100% in the camp of hating how it was handled, and I empathize with everyone who decided to quit over it. I’m not as upset with how they handled the compensation as a lot of people are, but I get where they’re coming from, and I don’t think it’s entitlement to complain about how everyone got given a free T3 ticket as compensation, when the whole point was that there was a big disparity between the people who got nothing, and the people who got a T3 or higher prize. I think it would have been fine if everyone got the free T3 ticket when the results got announced, but the fact that this only happened because of the backlash does a lot to change the situation.

I don’t really think there’s much they could reasonably do to fix the situation after this, though. If they try and provide even more compensation, it might just get out of hand. The bottom line is just that the whole set-up of the event was fucked up from the start, and everyone should have been guaranteed this ticket right from the start so we didn’t end up in this mess.

But really I just think that the whole issue of ‘you can’t just expect a free high-tier ticket, since that’d be like everyone getting a free Belial/free spark/free Sierotix!’ just goes to show how badly the event was set up. Usually in events like this there’s a fairly linear progression in value between reward tiers as they get rarer, but I honestly think that all three of the higher tiers ended up being effectively the same value because of just how insane the sierotix, the 100k crystals, and Belial were. If they had even just moved the unticketable summons up to T2, it would have been a lot easier to justify giving everyone a free T3 ticket, since everything else on that tier is a lot less valuable. But they decided to include at least one insanely high-value reward in each tier, which completely fucked the balance of the tiers.

There’s also the fact that, with how the lottery worked and how they rigged people’s first 10 cards, it made the actual probabilities of winning different tiers a lot more unbalanced and weird than you’d expect. Like, it basically meant that your chances of getting at least one T1 or T3 prize were basically the same, and that you had a surprisingly high chance of getting at least one T2 prize. Which just feels like a weird way to design a lottery in the first place, and it also set up this situation where a much higher amount of people than you’d expect got high-tier rewards. I think it basically ended up being a coin flip as to whether you only got T4 prizes, or if you got at least one ticket higher than that, which is completely different to how any normal lottery works, and it meant that basically everyone who ‘lost’ was surrounded by people who got super massive prizes.

If I was in charge of it, I would have adjusted the event by taking the current T4 reward tier and demoting it to a consolation prize assigned to all of the ‘losing’ tickets, while replacing it with a tier of rewards that includes stuff like non-limited SSR characters, ticketable summons, a sunlight stone, a damascus ingot, or a medium amount of crystals. And then everyone should have gotten the guaranteed T3 ticket when they announced the results. Even if they still decided not to give everyone a T3 ticket, making the T4 pool better would have at least made the rewards closer to the guaranteed rewards we got last year. Like, if they added 10k crystals to the T4 pool, then the combo of the guaranteed two T4 tickets plus the random 10k crystals they gave out on that day would have amounted to at least 30k crystals, which is what everyone got last year from treasure rush.

I also think it was a mistake to let people get multiple of the same high-tier reward if they got super lucky, since it’s just kinda absurd to think that you could get *multiple* free sparks or sierotixes from this. But that’s relatively minor compared to everything else.

Also, the negative attitude people have towards the players that chose to quit the game and burn their accounts is genuinely really weird and gross. As far as I’m concerned, it’s perfectly fine to cut ties with something that was becoming a negative part of your life, and deleting everything in your account means you’ll be less tempted to go back to it later. It’s not like they’re hurting anyone except themselves, at the very least. And all the people I’ve seen complain about how this is going to give crews a worse time in GW if lots of their members quit are just highlighting the fact that yet another part of the problem is that the endgame in GBF is inherently designed around scoring and racing content that’s decided by who has the most advanced account.

Anyway this got longer than I wanted it to, but I just have a lot of thoughts about this, lol.

[welllpthisishappening]

To Be Totally Locked Up By You

It’s not a big deal.

So, Clarke and Bellamy are sharing a Spotify account. They share plenty of things already. An apartment. A school. Buying rounds at the bar four blocks away. This is basically the same thing.

Until. Octavia tells them about the playlist. Joint music and both of their listening habits on full display, some ridiculous algorithm that leaves Clarke, quite suddenly, feeling more exposed than ever, sharing emotions and feelings, all set to a soundtrack.

—-

Rating: Teen Word Count: Nearly 8K AN: It’s happening! Admittedly sooner than I expected (I’m still only in season five, but the feelings. I’ve got them) and this is almost too autobiographical to be entirely fair, but I wrote this in like…four hours. So, here it is. Long-time Bellarke fic-reader, first-time Bellarke fic-writer. With lots of thoughts on Bellamy Blake’s curls. Joining a new fandom is exciting and terrifying.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll ||

—-

“Why are you and my brother sharing a Spotify account?”

Clarke nearly breaks the pencil in her hand. She lifts her head slowly, not entirely surprised to find Octavia staring expectantly at her, arms crossed tightly enough that it’s very likely doing permanent damage to her ribs. 

Possibly her lungs. 

It’s been a very long time since Clarke took those anatomy classes. 

“Well,” Octavia prompts, one eyebrow arching perfectly. “Yes or no question.” “How did you get in here?” “Did you not hear me come in?”

Clarke makes a contrary noise in the back of her throat, tugging her legs closer to her chest so she can rest her chin on her knees. She’s genuinely impressed with the state of Octavia’s right eyebrow. It appears to be defying gravity. 

She doesn’t really know enough about gravity either. 

Maybe she should make a list of the things she doesn’t know. 

That seems inevitably depressing. 

And Octavia is very clearly not going to move until she gets a response she wants, that stupid eyebrow and a pile of papers resting against her hip. Her phone is just barely hanging on in her back pocket, the soft vibration barely audible over the music coming from Clarke’s laptop speakers and the creaky pipes in their bathroom. 

Bellamy is in the shower. 

Clarke is at least sixty-seven percent positive Octavia planned her ambush that way.

“How do you even know about Bellamy’s Spotify account?” Clarke asks, burrowing further into the corner of the couch. “And seriously, did you pick our lock?” That eyebrow should be studied. 

“I have a key,” Octavia drawls. “Obviously. So, your lock is fine and you can stop trying to deflect the important part of—” “—Why are you here?” Octavia gnashes her teeth, but there’s not really any threat there and Clarke only huffs slightly when she tosses her sketchbook on the coffee table. Because she knows that expression. The phone stops ringing. Only to start again. 

“How many places are you going today?” Clarke asks knowingly, pointing at the open spot next to her. 

There’s another round of huffing and flailing legs, Octavia’s left foot nearly colliding with both of Clarke’s knees, but that’s also impossibly familiar and nearly comfortable and—

“He thinks I should have a wedding cake,” Octavia mumbles. “Like an actual cake. Apparently it’s very historic—” “—Oh my God what an idiot.” “—There’s ancient nonsense involved and something about how that proved you were rich or something—” “—In Rome?” Octavia hums, eyes falling closed like she’s resigning herself to the horrendous ordeal of her older brother buying her a wedding cake. And, really, it’s almost nice. That’s a lie. It’s better than nice and just as expected as Octavia’s flailing limbs. 

Because for as long as Clarke Griffin has known Bellamy Blake, since she met Octavia in an intro to stats class they both hated, she’s known several things about him. 

One, he loves his little sister. More than anything. Two, he likes taking care of people. Octavia, especially, but at some point that also started to include Clarke, which is another nice thing and another vaguely overwhelming thing and—she doesn’t think about that. It is fine. Three, that same protective streak makes him certain he has to do things and provide things and that means driving Octavia crazy with possible wedding ideas. 

And that leads to thing four: he’s an idiot and a nerd in an endearing sort of way that makes Clarke sure he didn’t have to look up that fact about Roman wedding cakes. 

It also makes Clarke smile. 

She ignores whatever happens to Octavia’s face. 

“In Rome,” Octavia echoes. “Anyway that’s what we’re doing. Traipsing around the city and taste-testing cakes and—” “—That doesn’t sound too bad, honestly.” “Stop interrupting me, it will not distract me from my ultimate goal.” “Which is?” Octavia props herself up on her elbows, ignoring Clarke’s groan when she moves. “Do you know how expensive real wedding cakes are?” “That feels like a trick question. In Rome or—” Octavia sticks her whole tongue out when she responds, a noise that Clarke is sure will get stuck in her head for the rest of the day, The shower shuts off. 

And Clarke’s mouth doesn’t go dry, per se, but she’s only momentarily worried that everyone in the apartment can hear the way her heart speeds up, falling into rhythm with her perfectly curated Spotify playlist and it hadn’t been much more than a suggestion, a monetary decision that made sense because—

“Jesus fuck Bell, put clothes on!”

Bellamy grins, another shift of eyebrows that Clarke is genuinely starting to resent, rivulets of water falling down either side of his face and dripping towards the towel wrapped around his waist. “Did you break in here, O?” “Used her key apparently,” Clarke mumbles, hoping the heat she can feel rising in her cheeks isn’t obvious. 

Because thing number five Clarke has always know about Bellamy Blake is that she’s kind of..into Bellamy Blake. In a passing sort of way. That’s just happened to linger for years.

It’s his hair. 

It’s far too curly. 

It’s not—it’s more than that, it’s things one through four and a whole slew of other numbers she hasn’t come up with yet and how easy it’s been to live in the same space, both of them looking for roommates at the same time, mixing lives and remembering to buy creamer and always keeping an extra box of strawberry Special K in the back of the cupboard for breakfast-type emergencies, but Clarke likes to lie to herself and—

“Right, right, right,” Bellamy chuckles. “Well, she’s also ridiculously early.” Octavia scowls. “And standing here. Having a conversation you’re not actually a part of. Or invited to.” “Wow. Scathing.” “Do you wander around your apartment naked all the time?” “That’s not what’s happening. Obviously. Also, I live here. Why are you here so early?” “Just super psyched about cake.” “You’ll want to practice that some more before we leave. You might insult the baker in Brooklyn.” “You’re going to Brooklyn?” Clarke balks before she can stop herself, another noise out of Octavia that cannot possibly be good for her throat. 

“The bakery got really good reviews.” “Oh my God you looked up bakery reviews.” Bellamy tilts his head, more drops of water that are equal parts horrible and far too distracting to be fair. “Was that supposed to be a question?”

“No, no, I am not even remotely surprised that’s exactly what you did.” Endeared, maybe. Perpetually. But not surprised. 

Clarke doesn’t say that. 

Octavia is far too busy swinging her feet back on the floor, a slightly different look than earlier and Clarke glances down to make sure her stomach hasn’t actually dropped. She’s still retained enough anatomical knowledge to know that it is supposed to stay in her body. 

No drop. 

And yet. 

She can’t stop the butterflies or the nerves that rise up the back of her throat, another expression she’s far too familiar with. 

“Fine,” Octavia snaps. “We will go to Brooklyn. We will taste test all the cakes—there better be hummingbird cake—” “—Who do you think I am, O?” Bellamy mumbles. It gets him a well-deserved eye roll. 

Clarke’s going to bite her lip in half. 

“You and Clarke are sharing a Spotify account!” Bellamy blinks. Once, twice, runs his fingers through his hair and maybe it’s just a Blake thing, this seeming ability to twist their bodies in wholly unnatural ways. “Do you know what that looks like?” “Like I wanted to save a couple bucks a month? So it would be easier to do cake-type things?” “Phrase that differently,” Clarke suggests, but Bellamy just smirks and the towel thing is really starting to become a problem. The whole liking him is becoming a problem. But she’s just as unsurprised that this is what Octavia wanted to talk about as she was that he looked up bakery reviews, so. 

“Also,” Bellamy adds, “Clarke already had Spotify premium. It made sense.” Octavia shakes her head. “You’ve got to live together to be on the same account.”

“I thought we already covered that you have a key to this apartment. The one where Clarke and I live. Together.” “It looks romantic. It looks—” Octavia waves a pair of clearly frustrated hands through the air. “—Domestic. Partnered and, like joint playlists and—” “—You know he gets unlimited skips now, right?” Clarke interrupts, a desperate attempt to end this conversation and, maybe, get Bellamy to put a shirt on. 

“Don’t forget the no ads,” Bellamy grins. “That’s been a godsend.” “What an old sentence. Also, you’re a podcast dweeb.”

“Informed, princess. There’s a difference.” “Yuh huh. Whatever.” “As always, your arguments are well-structured and articulate.” She flips him off. He grins. Octavia makes a noise previously unheard by human ears. 

“You two do know,” she hisses, “that everyone is talking now and—” “—You all need to find a hobby,” Bellamy groans. “And I did not tell you this to make you lose your mind.” Clarke perks up, something in the back of her brain startling at that particular string of words. “You told her?”

“Yeah. I mean—well, I know it’s not a ton of money saved, but it’s something and…” He trails off, dots of color on his face and eyes that are suddenly very preoccupied with the floor. “It was nice of you to offer. So, I looked up Brooklyn.”

The music gets louder. 

Clarke is sure. She’s not sure how, but it seems to swell, the beat settling under her skin and in between her ribs, wrapping around a stomach that refuses to stay where it’s supposed to, flipping and flopping and feeling and, for a moment, she forgets Octavia is there. 

For a moment she smiles at Bellamy and he smiles at her and there’s no smirk, nothing except the way his eyes crinkle slightly, half a head tilt and damp curls falling and it’s good and great and then—

Octavia coughs. Pointedly. 

“Alright,” she sighs. “Well, I think it’s dumb and you guys should opt out of the joint playlist. It’s the absolute worst and definitely embarrassing.” “What?” Clarke asks. 

“Do you not know?” “You’re enjoying yourself.”

“Does Bell know about your secret Jonas love?” “What?!” Octavia throws her whole head back when she laughs, a sudden shift of emotion and the water falling off Bellamy’s elbow is starting to leave a small puddle on their floor. “Lincoln and I had it at first,” Octavia explains, “when we got it.” “You don’t think it’s a little hypocritical to be judging our Spotify purchases when you’ve got your own family plan?” Bellamy mutters. Octavia ignores him. “It’s some algorithm or something. I don’t know how it works, only that it takes all the songs you listen to all the time and turns it into a playlist that the entire family can listen to. In this case, that’s you guys. It’s very telling. About you know—you personally.” “I know Clarke personally,” Bellamy reasons. 

“Do you, though?” “I really don’t know how many times we can talk about this apartment.”

“You don’t have to. Because you didn’t know about the Jonas Brothers, did you?” “I really don’t—” “—Exactly,” Octavia says. “Music is...emotional. Certain songs for certain feelings, things that were playing in specific memories. It’s—it’s a whole new avenue to getting a person. Listen to this. Clarke, tell me the truth, how long did you spend making this playlist?” Clarke shrugs. “I don’t know. Not long, but it’s all kind of the same theme...Fleetwood Mac, Clapton, Jefferson Airplane. Good music to draw to.” “What’s the name of it?” “Of the playlist?” Octavia nods. Clarke scrunches her nose. “Music to sketch and avoid stress to,” she grumbles. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Bellamy’s staring at her. Gaping. Like he’s never seen her and it would be overwhelming even with a shirt on. As it is, Clarke swallows back the emotion taking up residence in the back of her throat, ignoring just how exposed she feels and— “You’re stressed?” he asks softly. 

“Not really. Just end of the quarter and you know parents at the school—always think their kid deserves a better grade and I’ve got meetings all next week. So. It’s—” God, she’s going to kill Octavia. And write a strongly worded letter to Spotify. “I knew you guys were going out today. The music is a lot of my dad’s favorite stuff. Calms me down.”

Bellamy doesn’t say anything else, a blessing and the single worst thing in the world, but the ends of his mouth curl up slightly and Clarke should stop looking at his mouth. Octavia grins like she won something. 

“You should put clothes on Bell,” she says. “Don’t want to miss the baker in Brooklyn.” He salutes, all sarcasm and snark, eyes flitting back towards Clarke’s before he and Octavia leave and she lets the playlist repeat three times. He brings her back a slice of cake. 

Octavia texts them both the next day. 

Bellamy grumbles, cursing under his breath about the sanctity of Sundays and Clarke resists the urge to make jokes about the New York Times crossword puzzle or his obsession with finishing it every weekend. 

She reads the text instead. 

Octavia Blake, 11:42 a.m.: I think you guys should stage a bet. A music bet. About the joint playlist. 

Clarke Griffin, 11:43 a.m.: Stop calling it that.

“Now, you’ve done it,” Bellamy murmurs, not lifting his eyes from the newspaper. There’s a pen stuck behind each one of his ears. 

Octavia Blake, 11:45 a.m.: No. I won’t. It’s weird and you guys are weird and if you're going to commit to Spotify, then I think you should bet to see who can control the playlist. 

“Don’t answer,” Bellamy suggests. 

Clarke grunts. 

Clarke Griffin, 11:46 a.m.: What kind of bet?

Octavia Blake, 11:47 a.m.: You guys can set terms. But basically see who can annoy who first with their musical tastes and seize control of the playlist. 

“Why is your sister so violent at all times?” Clarke asks, but Bellamy just fills in another clue and it’s an admittedly interesting idea. She’s nothing if not perpetually competitive. 

Octavia Blake, 11:47 a.m.: One musical genius to rule them all.

She kind of forgets about the bet. 

Or, whatever. 

Clarke’s too preoccupied with those meetings and the Wallace family continues to be the worst family at Mt. Weather, old money and far too many expectations, even for art elective classes that she promises won’t affect your child’s changes at the Ivy League, I swear, and her spine does not appreciate the way she’s sitting in her desk chair. 

She’s got a free period, is seriously considering slumping forward and taking a nap when she hears footsteps moving through her doorway. And Clarke’s got every intention of telling whoever it is to fuck off, but she also knows those footsteps and she can hear a soft beat playing in the background, so her curiosity is piqued. 

“Have you listened to it?” Bellamy asks, brandishing his phone and his tie is a little crooked. 

“What are you doing here?” “Isn’t this the same conversation you had with Octavia?” Clarke rolls her eyes at the same time he drops onto the corner of her desk. She lets out a noise — a warning about paint and half-finished projects she’s got to move to the back of the room, but Bellamy just gives her a steady look and the beat is coming from his phone. “Plus,” he continues, “we just got back from the Museum—” “—Did you geek? “I was a responsible adult figure, princess.” She hums, doing her best to infused as much disbelief into the sound as she can. It’s an old nickname—older than the joint lease and breakfast emergencies, a past Clarke doesn’t always like to think about because they hadn’t always gotten along, but at some point the word had lost its sneer and gained its own look she’s started to covet just a bit. 

She really needs to move those eleventh-grade acrylics. 

“So, like on a scale of one to three-thousand, how much did you geek, then?” Bellamy clicks his tongue. “I’d never been to the Morgan. 3,000 B.C.! They had stuff from 3,000 B.C.! Scrolls and artifacts, actual jewelry. That is—” “—Old?” “Ancient,” he corrects. “Proper ancient.” “I’d give this geek out a two-thousand, six-hundred and forty-seven. Out of the previously discussed three thousand.” “Yeah, that seems about right.”

“And you had a soundtrack to go with it?” Clarke asks, nodding towards the still-musical phone. 

“Kind of. Spotify caught up.” “To?” “Us.” It takes a moment for Clarke to figure out what he means, but then she’s taking a deep breath and trying to remember what she listened to in the last five days. A ridiculous amount of My Chemical Romance. 

It’s been a week. 

“I didn’t peg you for pop punk,” Bellamy laughs. “Or is MCR a different genre? I was never really sure how that worked.” Clarke groans, sliding further down her chair until his smile threatens to stretch the muscles in his face. She can’t flip him off in school. 

“I think, technically, they’re more power punk,” Clarke says. “Or maybe emo—depending on what album the algorithm picked up on.” “What have you been listening to more of?” “Mostly Welcome to the Black Parade on loop.” “Is it Wallace? All your stress and—am I missing out on jam sessions?” “God, not if you call them that,” Clarke exclaims. He blushes again. She may make a list of all the times she can get Bellamy to blush. “But kind of. You’ve had those Model UN meetings after school, so I’ve been blasting music when I get home. I think Pike’s going to rat me out to the super eventually.” “Yeah, well, he’s a dick neighbor. So.” “And my options are limited. No scream-singing in the car when I take the Subway every day.” “You could start singing on the Subway.” Clarke chuckles, sitting up a little straighter. Her spine appreciates it. “Showtime on the downtown six.” “You might be able to make some money. Learn how to flip on the polls.” “I’d donate it to your cake fund. Also, did you call them MCR?” “Is that not right? O went through a very serious Hot Topic phase when she was in high school and I remember some of the lingo, so—” “—You are seriously the oldest man alive.” “Who’s your favorite Jonas Brother?” Clarke scoffs, the song changing and she doesn’t think it’s one of hers. “Frank Ocean?” “A genius.” “You know we don’t have to do this. The sharing playlist thing. It’s—well, O was being crazy, especially with that bet idea, and there’s got to be a way to opt out of it.” “Do you want to opt out of it?” The question seems to hang in the air around them. 

And Clarke isn’t sure why it sounds impossibly important, like some line they’re crossing and can’t come back from, but she can’t shake the feeling or the admittedly lyrical genius of Frank Ocean. She turns the music up. 

“It’s kind of fun, isn’t it?” Bellamy asks. “Seeing what changes it picks up on and how the playlist evolves with what we’re into.” “Please stop talking about the playlist like it’s a sentient being.” “Fair, fair. But, uh—what do you say?” “To?” His fingers find the back of his hair, pushing curls away from his eyes and he’d left earlier than her that morning. That explains the glasses. He only wears his glasses when he’s tired. 

Clarke knows that. 

She knows...a lot about Bellamy. And not. Nothing about Frank Ocean, at least. 

She’d like to. 

She likes Frank Ocean. 

She loves—

“If we only listen to the playlist, we’re not going to change it,” Clarke points out. 

“Sounds like you’ve got a plan.” “At the risk of giving O any credit, it’s an interesting idea, isn’t it? That we keep listening to our own music during the day or night or whatever, but when we’re coming home from school we listen to the joint playlist. See what happens with it.”

“And are we trying to influence the playlist?” “That’s up to you, I guess.”

“Yeah, ok. Try to influence the playlist, see what we can force the other person to listen to and—” He tilts his head, a forced casualness that makes Clarke widen her eyes. “—Whoever eventually seizes control of the playlist with the majority of their songs by...O and Lincoln’s wedding wins.” “Wins? Wins what?” “I don’t know. Something at home. Or one of us can just pay for the other’s Spotify account.”

Clarke twists her lips, considering it. Bellamy’s eyebrows fly up expectantly. “Yeah, ok. We judge the playlist based on what we hear when we’re leaving school.” “Makes sense. And what happens if we leave school together? You going to share headphones with me?”

“Only if you’ll join my showtime brigade.” “Good name.” “Is that a yes?” He grins — another one of hers, which is vaguely possessive and a little insane, but Clarke’s heart is doing its best to beat its way out of her chest as well, so she figures the whole thing is kind of a wash at this point. “I will definitely join your showtime brigade,” Bellamy promises. “If only because I’m pretty confident in my ability to flip from the top bars.” “No you’re not.” “I’ve got upper-body strength you couldn’t even imagine.”

“Sure, sure. When do we start with our musical experiment?” “Today.” “Today?” “Today,” Bellamy repeats, as students start to file into the hallway and Clarke’s not all that upset with how her free period turned out. “I will pick you at exactly 3:15, Ms. Griffin. Be prepared for an introduction in modern classics. And 90s hip hop.” “I’m going to listen exclusively to pop punk for the rest of the week.” “May the algorithms ever be in your favor.”

“Idiot,” she calls, but he’s already walking away and none of her students look remotely surprised.

Raven slides the glass across the bar without a word. She doesn’t have to use words. Her face is judgmental enough. 

Clarke sighs. “What?” “Did I say anything?” “Did you have to?”

Raven waggles a finger, more opinions and very obvious thoughts and Clarke knew it was only a matter of time. She blames intro to stats. It’s how she met Octavia, after all. Which is how she met Bellamy, which is how their friends group grew and evolved and there’s been good and bad and this bar and she’s fairly certain Raven has a very detailed bet with both Monty and Murphy about her and Bellamy. 

They all know about the Spotify playlist. 

“I guess not,” Raven admits. “Has anyone ever told you that your psychic tendencies are both terrifying and impressive?” “Not in so many words, no.” “What about your weird flirting rituals?” Clarke downs the drink — not sure if it’s actually meant for her and not worried either way. It burns the back of her throat, settling in the pit of her stomach with an almost audible thump, right next to her ever-expanding knowledge of Bellamy’s musical taste and his determination to shift the playlist. He’s been listening to nothing except It’s Tricky radio for the past three days. 

She’s got to figure out how to fix this. 

On several levels. 

“It’s not flirting,” Clarke argues. “Or a ritual. That’s weird.” “You’re telling me.” “Buy me another drink.” “No,” Raven says. “Tell me about the ritual.” “Stop calling it that!” Clarke’s voice rises of its own accord, drawing more than a few curious glances and Bellamy looks up from where he’s talking to Lincoln and Octavia. She smiles. She doesn’t mean to. 

Raven cackles. 

“Oh God,” she mumbles, the words barely that, “so, how screwed are you? Like ballpark.” “I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” “Have you figured out that he secretly loves the Goo Goo Dolls?” “How do you know that?” “You don’t?” “Oh my God,” Clarke groans. 

Raven reaches a hand out, a move that’s probably supposed to be comforting, but feels far too heavy when it lands on Clarke’s forearm. “Slow down on the liquor, Griffin. You’re a lightweight. And I know that because the one night I was there—don’t make that face.” Clarke definitely makes a face. She’s a little buzzed. Cage Wallace is setting up a meeting with the school board. About her art classes. “Anyway,” Raven adds, “I was kind of...looking to get out of there quick, but he had music playing and—” “—He played music while you guys were hooking up?” “Nah, he let me shower. He was reading.” “Oh my God.” “Anyway. I don’t think he knew that I could hear the music and it was definitely an entire Goo Goo Dolls album. Straight through. Not even a mix.” “Huh.” “You act like you’re not fascinated by that.” “Should I be?” Clarke questions, but it’s another badly formed lie and the energy under her skin is starting to make her restless. 

Raven nods. “Yes. Eventually that’s going to show up on the playlist too. I know. Or you could ambush him with the Goo Goo Dolls.” “What a sentence.” “Matchbox Twenty?” “Those are two different bands.” “Similar genres,” Raven reasons, Clarke waving down Miller for another round of something, anything. “And I’m trying to help you, here. Rule the playlist, rule the world, right?” “Or at least part of our roommate budget.” “Say roommates again like you don’t want to make out with his face.” “Jeez.” “Not an objection,” Raven points out at the same time Miller decides to show up. Clarke does her best to melt. It does not work. 

“It is not,” Miller adds. “And—just in case you were looking for some more information. He’s been asking about your musical tastes too.” Maybe Clarke is drunk. 

She wishes.

“Why?” “Search me,” Miller admits. “But a lot of it seemed to revolve around your favorite Jonas.” Clarke refuses to look at Raven for the rest of the night. 

It goes. Days, weeks, the rest of April. 

The music keeps on playing. Or, whatever. 

She listens to more My Chemical Romance. Bellamy goes through a pretty serious ten-day spiral over Weezer that leads them both down some 90s-alt rabbit hole, both of them bobbing in rhythm while they do the dishes on a Thursday night. 

At one point Octavia threatens to ruin it all, grabbing Clarke’s phone while they’re at the bar and announcing, “I am getting married, so I pick the music.” It ends with Carly Rae Jepsen on loop and a playlist that refuses to recover for the next two days. 

Clarke comes home to Bellamy humming Run Away With Me while he folds laundry in the living. She spends no less than five seconds processing that before she starts matching socks. 

They play the song fourteen times in a row. 

He counts. 

And she learns things. Raven had been right about the Goo Goo Dolls and Clarke girts her teeth when Bellamy asks “why are there so many Frozen songs on here now,” but that leads them to debating the merits of twisting traditional mythologies in Disney movies until Monty tells them to “shut up and drink.”

So, they do. 

And then, May happens. 

It’s not that Clarke often finds herself stressed enough to burst into tears as soon as she closes the apartment door behind her, but her stomach is churning and between self-important parents at school and her own parents—parent, singular—she’s an emotional, exhausted mess and—

“Oh, shit,” she sighs, sliding onto the floor. She hasn’t listened to the playlist all week. And she knows Bellamy won’t really care, but Clarke has started to depend on the structure and the ever-increasing knowledge and while she might not admit it, Arcade Fire probably would have done a pretty good job of psyching herself up for an afternoon with her mom. 

As it is, Clarke spent the better part of the last six hours listening to backwards compliments and questions about that school of yours and not-so-humble brags about the cardiac center at Lenox Hill and the “opportunities you passed up, sweetheart.”

That sentence played on loop in Clarke’s head the entire train ride home. 

She sniffles, a quick lip of suddenly dry lips because she’s started breathing out of her mouth too and—

“Clarke?” Her head bumps the door when she snaps it up, Bellamy standing there with curls that desperately need to be cut and glasses and he’s wearing socks. It makes Clarke’s pulse speed up and slow down at the same time. 

She’s very glad she’s not a doctor. 

“Hey, hey,” he says quickly, rushing into her space and there are already tears on her cheeks. She hates that. Bellamy drops in front of her, knees cracking and a hand on her shoulder, staring at her like she’s going to fall apart or break in half and neither is true. Clarke is just mad. 

Pissed off, really. 

She’s angry at her mom and the cardiac center with its looming benefit, Clarke’s lack of a date some black mark on the whole thing, apparently, far too many veiled suggestions that her own choices are less structured and real, because Clarke has made her own choices since she was eighteen and hated stats and she’s got a schedule and she can’t believe she forgot about the playlist. She’s harping on that. “And how was the esteemed Dr. Griffin today?” Bellamy asks knowingly. Clarke isn’t sure what sound she makes at that, but it might just be the audible version of gratitude, and he grins. 

Exactly like she wants him to. 

“Chock-full of opinions as always.” “Mmhm, I figured. You want to talk about it?” “Not really. She just—” Clarke grits her teeth, fighting against another wave of disappointment and could have been and every one of her muscles tightens when Bellamy’s lips ghost over her forehead. 

That’s absurd. 

It’s not the first time he’s done it. Or her. Quick displays of affection when things went well or things went bad and she can remember every single one. Which, honestly, is pretty telling, but she spent most of the day lying to her mom. 

This shouldn’t be any different. 

This is the complete opposite. 

“Go ahead,’ Bellamy mutters. 

“She’s just—God, Bell, she’s the worst and she’s so positive she’s right and I’m wrong, but she doesn’t even have the decency to really tell me I’m wrong and—” Clarke runs out of air. Bellamy brushes away the tears on her cheeks. “They’ve got this gala coming up and she wants me to come. She’s getting an award.” “Prestigious.” “Self-absorbed,” Clarke corrects. “The hospital she works at is awarding her for her work at the same hospital. I know it shouldn’t get to me. I do, but she kept talking, like she was going down a list of make Clarke feel like garbage and—” “—You don’t deserve to feel like garbage, princess.”

“Tell me mom that.”

“Here, give me your phone.” Clarke’s skull can’t cope with much more of this, but there’s an earnest edge to his voice that she’s never heard before and her phone suddenly feels impossibly heavy in her pocket. She pulls it out, willing her fingers not to tremble. 

It takes him exactly twelve seconds to start playing music.

There’s no Arcade Fire. No Goo Goo Dolls or 90s hip hop. 

“Fleetwood Mac?” Clarke whispers, Bellamy’s soft hum of agreement in her ear and she’s sure, eventually, they’ll get up. She’s not in a rush. “If you play Landslide,” Clark warns, “I will cry even more.”

“I can cope with that.” “Yeah?” “Yeah,” he says, and it sounds like another thing in a way that things shouldn’t be things. Not with roommates and weird bets and—“You know I do have some rhythm. I could...if you don’t want to show up to this thing by yourself.” Clarke doesn’t pull her head off his shoulder. She’s not sure when her head landed on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.” “It wouldn’t suck so bad.” “That's not true at all.” “I’m serious. We could make fun of people. Come up with ridiculous backstories. Wow them with our Fred and Ginger ways.” “You sound very confident in your dancing talent.” He kisses the top of her hair. 

“That’d be nice,” Clarke says, voice a little scratchy and she’s not sure if that’s because of the day or the week or how goddamn comfortable his shoulder his. “And you’re going to ruin the playlist algorithm with this.” “I’ll live.” “Good.”

Dr. Abby Griffin’s eyes get very wide when Clarke and Bellamy show up at Gotham Hall. 

They dance. They drink undoubtedly expensive champagne. They dance some more. 

She smiles. 

A lot. 

And Bellamy doesn’t ask before handing Clarke one side of his headphones as soon as they slide into the Uber back home, her eyes fluttering shut while the music drowns out the sounds of the city on their way home. 

She gets really annoyed with him one week and plays the original Broadway cast recording of Cats every night while she’s asleep. 

He hates that she can’t ever remember to turn the AC off when she leaves the apartment. So, he plays Bizet from Carmen every time she walks in for a four-day stretch. 

It takes another two days for the playlist to realize neither one of them is mad anymore.

At some point around Memorial Day they both realize they love Ben Folds. 

Bellamy plays a ridiculous fake piano. 

Clarke sings the Regina Spektor parts on all their duets. 

They blast Killer Queen on a Saturday afternoon in June after Cage Wallace’s kid graduates. 

Clarke stands on the couch, hands thrown in the air and something akin to joy leaping up her spine, Bellamy shouting lyrics from the kitchen while he blends...something. 

It presumably has alcohol in it. 

Or, more alcohol. 

It’s a celebration. 

And it doesn’t take long for Pike to start banging on their shared well, but neither of them move to to turn own the music, just sing louder. Bellamy grins when Clarke throws a pillow at the wall, shouting “take that dick,” like Pike can hear them over Freddie Mercury. 

She almost falls over. 

It is...patently stupid and inherently romantic and Bellamy is impossibly solid behind her, cotton t-shirt not doing much to distract from the planes of his chest and—

“What was that about upper body strength?” she breathes.

Bellamy laughs into her shoulder blade, nosing at the top of her shirt, and there must be hair in his face, but he doesn’t seem all that upset by it, which is only messing with her head a little bit. His fingers splay across her hip, tugging Clarke back to the floor. 

His glasses are falling down the bridge of her nose. 

Clarke presses up on her toes, suddenly aware of how much bigger he is than her and how clear his eyes are when he looks at her — more earnest energy and a flick of his tongue between his lips, like he’s waiting for whatever she does next and only a little impatient. 

“A solid save.” Bellamy barks out a laugh, head falling close to Clarke’s, and it takes everything in her not to card her fingers through his hair. That lasts about four seconds. 

If even. 

Her calves are still aching, but she doesn’t back down and she doesn’t think and for one of those four seconds she’s absolutely positive Bellamy is going to kiss her. He doesn’t blink, just stays impossibly still, except for the flutter of his fingers and the way they push under the hem of her shirt and—

“Turn your fucking music down!”

They both jump back, like they’ve been shocked, Clarke wincing when her legs slam into the front of the couch. 

“Are you ok?” Bellamy asks, but she’s already nodding and any sense of joy has rather quickly morphed into something much worse. Regret. That’s the word for it. 

She’s neither a doctor nor an English teacher. 

“Fine, fine,” Clarke stammers. “I, uh—I’m going to turn the music down, ok?”

“Nah, Clarke—fuck that guy, c’mon, it’s…” “It’s really loud, Bell.” He’s setting a record for not blinking, she’s sure. He stares at her—a little appraising and just a hint wary, the moment drifting away as the song fades out. Clarke swallows. 

“Yeah, that’s true,” Bellamy agrees. It still doesn’t sound like the words he’s saying. “What do you think about celebratory David Bowie?” “Good call. You going to keep mixing?” “10-4, princess.”

“Idiot.” He grins, a quick twist of eyebrows and squeeze of his hand, but Clarke can’t help to think that the end of the school year may also be the end of something else. 

Octavia’s getting married in two weeks. 

Her dress is blue. 

And it makes her boobs look great, which Clarke isn’t focused on, but Raven’s mentioned it enough that eventually she agrees and she’s happy. 

Octavia is getting married. 

It’s sunny. It’s warm. There’s already music playing, soft and melodic outside the door where they’re waiting, Raven’s far-too-knowing stare boring into the back of Clarke’s head. 

“Don’t do that,” she warns, and she doesn’t have to turn to know Raven rolls her eyes. 

“I’m still not saying anything.” “Again, you didn’t have to.” “The experiment ends today, right?” “You say that like you don’t know. “And what did we learn?” Clarke turns around. It’s a mistake, she knows, but part of her has also been dreading today, which is pretty fucked up. All things considered. Octavia looks gorgeous. 

She’s got a five-dollar bet with Murphy that Bellamy will cry. 

Bellamy’s definitely going to cry. 

“You’re supposed to learn something in an experiment,” Raven says. “Even one as weird as this one. With all its flirting. You seriously haven’t made out with him yet?” “No.” Raven crows, Clarke grimacing at the admission that isn’t really that because everyone knows and she’s always known and—she bets he looks very good in his tuxedo. “Oh, god you’re an idiot,” Raven exhales. “But seriously, did you learn things? That he—”

“Yes to the Goo Goo Dolls. Slide is a very predictable favorite, but it’s been on the playlist since the get. He knows way more lyrics than he should. O had a pop punk phase too and he’s way too confident in his own rhythm, but sometimes he’s good at dancing. His mom used to listen to a lot of ballads and Karen Carpenter makes him feel emotions, but mostly at Christmas, so that hasn’t really affected the playlist and—what? You’re doing that thing with your face.” “Am I just?” “Nothing’s going to change, Rae,” Clarke cuts in. “We’re going to keep our musical preferences and our separate playlists and one of us will pay for no ads.” “Seriously, tell him how much you want to kiss him.”

“Shut up.”

And the photographer sounds like he’s on his way back. With Octavia. Who certainly does not want to hear about Clarke’s unrequited feelings for her brother. On her wedding day. 

Priorities, Clarke’s got them. 

“We had some fun and—well, O was kind of right. It was like getting a chance to…” “See into his music-loving soul?” “I really like Arcade Fire now.” Raven hums noncommittally and Clarke can practically hear the gears in her mind turning, but she’d been right about the photographer and maybe they’ll all just cry over Octavia. 

She’s beaming. 

And there will be hummingbird cake at this reception. 

“You guys ready?” Octavia asks. 

Clarke nods, ignoring Raven’s expression. “Definitely.”

He cries. 

Clarke gets five dollars. 

She doesn’t have any pockets in her dress. 

That feels like a sign. 

Strictly speaking, Clarke hasn’t been to too many weddings. A family friend when she was a kid. Her mom’s. This one. 

And yet. 

She’s positive that this is the most beautiful wedding she’s ever been to or could ever go to and part of that is because of the music and part is because of how often she’s noticed Bellamy smiling and most of it is because he keeps glancing her way. 

It’s a very blue dress. 

She’s still holding a five-dollar bill. 

And there is a whole schedule — toasts and more tears, posing for photos and ignoring the way her stomach flutters when she spends an inordinate amount of time glancing Bellamy’s direction. Octavia laughs. She and Lincoln flit from table to table, a hint of tradition in a wedding that is still them and this family and—

“You want to dance?” She’s sitting at the head table, a glass of half-finished champagne in front of her and they haven’t cut the cake yet, but Clarke figures that's soon. Bellamy doesn’t blink. Again. One side of his mouth tugs up, fluttering his fingers in her space until she feels her own smile stretch and maybe her stomach should just be studied. 

There’s color on Bellamy’s cheeks. 

Clarke never got around to making that list. 

“Don’t leave hanging, princess,” Bellamy says. “They’re playing good music.”

He’s not wrong. 

It is good music. It’s...oddly familiar music. And Clarke had been too happy to really notice it before, but now that she’s listening, she hasn’t heard anything that’s not hers and—

“Oh my God, you idiot.” He laughs. Loud. And honest. And one-hundred percent hers. The sound sinking into the very center of her, where everything else she’s ever loved has taken root, a foundation for the rest of it, for all of it, for a family. 

A Spotify premium family plan. 

“You keep complimenting me like that and—” “—Did you do this?” “Did I do what?”

Her hand finds his, warm fingers and slightly callused skin. Clarke can’t stop shaking her head. It’s absurd. It’s vaguely romantic. 

“Is this…” she starts, but Bellamy smirks and she’s a lost cause. 

In a far more romantic sort of way. 

She jumps up, closing the already minimal amount of space between them and, to his credit, he doesn’t flinch. He might still be smirking. Clarke can feel the curve of his lips as soon as hers land on them, a little cautious at first, but that lasts about one verse of whatever Jonas Brothers song is playing and then it’s all mingled breaths and an arm slung around his shoulders, fingers in his hair and the sudden swipe of his tongue. 

Clarke arches her back, desperate to feel as much of him as she can, like that will ground her or remind her that it’s really happening. 

He tilts his head, changes angles and cups her face. It’s soft and bruising and a perfect contradiction that leaves her pushing up further in her heels, pulling on Bellamy’s curls until he groans against her and she’s going to think about that on loop for the rest of the night. 

The room spins. 

Clarke’s only seventy-two percent certain she’s not the one spinning. 

It doesn’t seem to end. They don’t seem to end. She can’t tell where his hands stop, moving across the expanse of her back and tracing across skin, as if he’s memorizing every shift, every way she rocks against him, trying to fill the space with him and them and— “Oh my God, finally,” Octavia cries. 

Clarke snickers, Bellamy’s head dropping to the curve of her jaw, leaving goosebumps in his wake. Still smirking. “Huh,” he muses. “Look at that.” “Don’t be smug,” Clarke chides. “I’m wooing you, was that not obvious?” She leans back, expecting a wholly confident expression, only to be met with something slightly hopeful and a little young and yearning and, really, the only thing to do is kiss him. Again. So, she does. Again. 

And it’s good and great and exactly what she thought it would be when she thought about this, far more often than she ever would admit to. 

But it’s also...something else. It’s the perfect chord and a well-constructed bridge and the song she wants to play on repeat forever, a favorite she knows she won’t get sick of, until the melody finds its way into her memory and her. 

Full stop. 

“Yeah, it was,” she whispers. “Is this—” “You know when you first offered to go half on this premium thing, I really was in it for the money.” “It’s like an extra ten bucks a month,” Miller yells. Both Octavia and Raven swat at his side.

“Yeah, that’s true,” Bellamy admits, “But I wanted to help O and I was sure this would help and then the playlist thing came up and I just—” He shrugs, another brush of his fingers over Clarke’s arm. “—Well, it was...you know you hum under your breath? Constantly. Every song. Even the ones you said you didn’t like. And you’ve got drawing playlists and I can’t believe how strongly you feel about All Time Low.” “They’re good,” Clarke shouts. More than a few members of the peanut gallery let out exasperated sighs. 

Bellamy kisses her hair. “I know. I know. And that’s been—the first time O talked about you, I figured you were some uptight—” “—Am I still being wooed? I am a fun person!” “Let me finish. You were old money and plans and structure and I thought I had to hate you on principle. But then. Clarke, you’re—ok, yeah, you like some structure and plans, but there’s so much more and it’s...every single time you start dancing to David Bowie I think I love you a little more.”

She’s not sure what sound she makes. 

An exhale and a sigh and a give — into the feelings and the want and he’s not done. 

“So, uh, it hasn’t been easy. It took a lot of repeat plays. But yeah, to answer your question. This is the playlist and it’s our playlist, with...mostly your music because—” He scrunches his nose. It makes the freckles more obvious. “You’ve gotten under my skin, princess. So has your music. And the Frozen soundtrack isn’t that bad.” “Get that in writing,” Octavia demands. 

“Shut up, O,” Bellamy grumbles. She flips him off. The photographer takes a picture. “Anything to add?” he asks, an undercurrent of misplaced nerves that she doesn’t understand at first. She hasn’t said anything back. 

“Oh, yeah, yeah, that’s—” she starts, shaking her head and she kisses him before she answers. Third time’s the charm, or something. "I love you too.”

There are cheers. And louder music. A ridiculous bass line and shutter snaps and—

“We going to dance?” “Did I not ask first?” Clarke hums, already tugging him towards the floor and she’s got high hopes of his hand never leaving hers. For the rest of the night. If not longer. “Semantics,” she says. “C’mon, this is definitely a good song.”

Her favorite Jonas Brother is Joe. 

She tells him while they’re tugging clothes off, stumbling down the hallway of their apartment. 

“Don’t mention that again.” “10-4,” Clarke laughs, but the words get caught between them and she very quickly forgets about anything other than the noise Bellamy makes when she moves her hands into his hair. 

They never opt out of the family playlist. 

And it takes a few weeks for the algorithm to catch up, but eventually it’s a pretty even split, his and hers and theirs, all perfectly curated in replayable format. 

[polygarnstars]

part 1: 4, 12, 15, 18, and 19

If you think I’m going to have common sense and not answer all of these in a single post, I have Bad News lmao

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you? Smart, mostly. “Gifted”. This very much Did Not Last lmaoooo

12. name of your favorite playlist? I literally never make playlists I’m a stupid fuck who uses their spotify premium to skip freely through all my thousands of liked songs on shuffle until I find something I want to listen to lmaooooo (Having said that: Rey and I put together a playlist for some characters we were entering a contest to win last fall which I titled Story and Song after the TAZ arc and also because we wrote Way Too Much for it and I’m Very Proud Of That)

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment? Okay upon reading this I initially genuinely couldn’t remember any of the books I read in school because for the last several years of my schooling I just fuckin Sparknotes and TV Tropes-ed everything lmao... having said that, I do remember enjoying Maus! It was neat having a graphic novel assigned amongst all the “literary classics” that I couldn’t sit through a sitting of without falling asleep, and it may be the furry in me but the depiction of the characters/people as animals was Good :0c See, if all history was depicted with methods like this, I’d maybe actually be able to remember it ghfdjhgjfkdl

18. ideal weather? Depends on the day, but generally: Between like 65-80°F, not humid, not a lot of wind, and either sunny, partly cloudy, or drizzly but not outright storming. Basically decent temperatures without feeling like I’m walking through soup because of the humidity and weather that’s not completely gray and boring. Aka what Maine basically never is lmaoooo

19. sleeping position? I change positions every five minutes I swear to god (don’t take that out of context gfhdjbhvjd). Usually with at least one arm draped over a pillow that is Definitely Not Being Mentally Portrayed As A Character I Like To Supplement The Fact That I Did Not Get Enough Affection To Be A Functional Adult As A Child ghfdjknbhgfjdk

21. obsession from childhood? bold of you to assume i don’t still obsess over nintendo games (and just video games in general tbh)

23. strange habits? OKAY I COULDN’T THINK OF ANYTHING FOR THIS AT FIRST BUT I HAVE ONE NOW: MIDNIGHT FRIES

28. five songs to describe you? Speeding - LightsDaydreaming - ParamoreMusic - Mystery SkullsNo Lullaby - SIAMÉSLonely Dance - Set If Off+Bonus because it came up on Spotify while I was shuffling for songs for this and it’s a Mood: Pineapples Do Not Belong on a Pizza - Vargskelethor

29. best way to bond with you? I don’t know I usually just scream about ocs or video games with people and suddenly it’s been a year??? @riskreyes how has it been a year since we started talking but also how has it only been a year??? Wild bvhfdjkbhvgfjdk

30. places that you find sacred? Lmao I’ve never had anywhere like that really. Need a goddamn lock on my door :p I guess... the woods by my house? As a little kid before things got shitty my neighbor’s cousin or niece or something would go out there wandering around catching frogs and stuff in the spring or almost falling into the frozen streams during winter. When things started to go to shit in my life as a teenager I would hide out there to get away and nobody would find me. I haven’t been recently but the last time I did my friend and I walked along the train tracks and dove off into the woods by the side to avoid the amtrak coming by, it was great lmao. Uhh, other than that... I dunno, Boston and New York and New London all make me feel good to visit. Probably mostly because during those trips I don’t feel trapped in a dying land like Maine feels like bgvhfdjkhvgfjd

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names? ......my entire wardrobe is my work outfit, excessive graphic tees, and jeans. So uhh... I dunno. I guess my NWTB shirts are pretty rad, I’d kick a dude’s ass wearing Nate’s merch

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head? if i have to see another ad for some fuckin branch of the us military while i’m just out here trying to watch people play video games i swear to god-

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school? Oh boy I don’t know how weird these are but do you want a list??? I can give you a list hang on- In 4th grade we had a day of class where we all just had a party and ate chips and salsa and stuff because the pats won the super bowl and our teacher was Obsessed- In middle school my math class started working out of college textbooks, which is a bit much when you’re 11, advanced classes or no. Yet somehow none of the other students had any problems with this- Also in middle school, the school counselor really wasn’t very Good at his job so I usually just ended up playing Rock Band in his office instead of talking out any of my Many, Many Problems. I played the drums, for the record- Also in middle school, one time I straight up fell down a flight of stairs? Like, a full flight of stairs. Fuckin somersaulting down the stairs. The binder I was carrying broke open, papers went everywhere, my arm got cut open somewhere along the way and started bleeding. I get to the bottom, the other students are staring at me in horror, aforementioned counselor fuckin steps out of his office which is, of course, right at the bottom of the stairs, all concerned because what the fuck a kid just fell down the stairs, right? And so I, laying on the floor disoriented and laughing, declare, and I quote: “That was fun, let’s do it again!”- THE MOTHERFUCKING MAC AND CHEESE MUFFINS IN HIGH SCHOOL. Macaroni and cheese baked into the sweet batter of a muffin. I refused to touch the stuff but a friend of my did and it was bad enough he had to go to the trash can and fucking empty his stomach in it.- SAID FRIEND ALSO MANAGED TO GET A CARTON OF MILK THAT EXPIRED A MONTH BEFORE SCHOOL STARTED AT THE START OF ONE OF OUR YEARS IN HIGH SCHOOL and if I didn’t trust cafeteria food before that sealed the deal on me Never Trusting It Again- OH BUT SPEAKING OF CAFETERIA FOOD one time in the old school before the renovation, in like freshman year I think? I laughed so hard a piece of spicy chicken strip flew up my windpipe and got stuck in my nose and it was too big for me to snort out so I had to suck it back down and for the rest of the day all I could smell was burning- ON ANOTHER FOOD RELATED TOPIC down in the library I was on my iPad and 3DS because I had Long Since Given Up On School and some asshole dudes threw a rotting orange at me and it splattered all over the screens of both? So I picked up the remains and chucked it back at them and yelled “Do you wanna fucking NOT?” and they all ran off. The librarian heard me yell and saw me throw the orange back at them and she just didn’t give a fuck lmao- The librarians at my school were cool as shit really during one of our years we had to do x hours of volunteer work so I did some adjustments to the library catalogue for mine but the thing is I was fast enough at it that there really wasn’t enough to fill up my required hours so instead of giving me more to do they just sort of let me and my friends hang out playing Yu-Gi-Oh and called that good lmao. (For the record I only had one starter deck so I let my friend pick half of the cards and I would use the half she didn’t want. I managed to fuckin WRECK her with throwaways it was Iconicque)- OKAY ONE LAST LIBRARY STORY on the last day of finals I was hanging out in one of the smart tv rooms in the library right? My last finals weren’t for a few hours and lord knows I wasn’t gonna study, ADHD ass couldn’t do that and I’d already given up on school lmao. So I fucking... I brought my Wii U to school, hooked it up to the smart tv, and just started playing Splatoon there in the library. One of the librarians walked past to check on everyone, stopped at my room, watched me play for a minute (I noticed her and just sort of nodded and waved like ‘Sup’ so she Knew what was going on), and then just LEFT. Like, she didn’t give a fuck. Shoutout to the librarians, the Chillest- ALRIGHT LAST STORY LAST STORY I straight up never got all the credits I needed to graduate lmao. I was missing half a credit but they let me go anyway and to this day I cite the reason as being my high scores on the SAT/PSAT? I was the first student at the school in like, a decade, to have gotten an award from the National Merit Scholarship Corporation for my performance on them, and I guess they must have thought that me failing to graduate on time would look bad on them because, uh, yeah, it would, if people found out their teachers couldn’t handle a ~smart kid~ to the point that they did poorly enough to not even graduate with the rest of their class nobody would be willing to send their kids there lmao. And that’s the story of how I graduated when I wasn’t technically supposed to!!!

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have? That’s a good fuckin question hey shit memory what was that thing that made us laugh so hard we couldn’t breathe again?...Don’t remember? Yeah I thought so lmaoI dunno, probably a joke in some let’s play? Or... god. Now that I think about it was probably the Slicer of T��pire Weir Isles moment actually. Holy shit, that was good.

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried? That I’ve ever tried? Jesus, I dunno, I have issues with texture more than flavor. I Refuse to eat my mother’s stuffing because it’s literally just soggy ass bread. In terms of pure flavor alone? Her shepherds pie. It’s just... there is no flavor. It’s like eating cardboard. I’m begging you, De, use seasoning. If I ever have to eat shepherds pie that just tastes like tin from canned peas and vague hints of unseasoned beef again I’m going to go on a murderous rampage.That said? F in the chat to Cameron for that mac and cheese muffin. Rest in pieces

73. favorite weird flavor combo? GVFHDJBVDN JUST GONNA MAKE ME SHARE THE DILL PICKLE/CHOCOLATE PUDDING PACK COMBO FOR ALL THE WORLD TO SEE HUH

93. nicknames? Gar, Garn, Lane, Bill, Master, Pants, Shortpants. The first three are self-explanatory, first two are shortenings of my name and then my masc/surname. The latter four come from usernames of mine - Bill from Bill Ciforce (If you stack a Bill Cipher on top of two other Bill Ciphers, you get the Ciforce), Master, Pants, and Shortpants from MasterShortpants in reference to one of Link’s nicknames in Skyward Sword

95. favorite app on your phone? Does the internet app count? No? Lmao. Spotify I guess :p Need me some Tunes

[brianjpatterson]

SPOTLIGHT: “THE BIG LEAP” (Reaching the Next Level in Your Journey as a Performer)

If you’re just joining Spotlight, then I’d like to welcome you to my personal journal of my personal journey as a performer. It’s a kind of way for me to look back on all of my experiences, and lessons I’ve learned, while simultaneously sharing what I’ve learned with you. Disclaimer: The word PERSONAL was utilized twice in the first sentence. Therefore, this is not the gospel or the truth, it’s just me sharing MY experiences in an effort to assist, if possible, in other people’s discovery toward climbing the ladder toward their own version of artistic success (end disclaimer). Today, I’m going to continue my detour past part (Part 5) of my observation of the Industry’s Corporate Structure (AGAIN), to touch briefly upon a concept that I live by in “Brian’s B’s” (Being aka Awareness, Business, and Behavior aka Conduct), of my A+B=C method. It is the concept and idea of how to make things practically tangible for others. When you make something tangible for someone, it becomes easily accessible to them. And if you can make it easily accessible in a brief way…even better! SIDE NOTE: If you are reading this blog for the first time, here’s a brief over view of my A+B=C method. A stands for the Abstract; It’s your dream and what you desire. C is the Completion or end result to the equation. It’s that Concrete product you have Concocted. However, B is the thing that doesn’t get much attention, and it is the most vital portion of the equation; It is your Being, your Behavior, and your Business. All the things that YOU actually DO to mix with the A and make the C happen! That is the basic overview of my system. Today, I’m going to focus briefly on the being side. Cultivating awareness is the most important part of ‘Being”. Knowing who you are, means knowing how you show up in every day life in different situations. Today, I’m going to break down five simple questions you can ask yourself when you are feeling stuck at a particular level.

This particular story begins earlier this year just after the events of “What Would Wonder Woman Do about Depression - part two”. If you haven’t read it, then let me give you the truncated version. Basically, my entire life had fallen apart and I lost everything. I barely had a few dollars to my name, everything was in storage, and I was living with my brother from another mother Louis Trenta. Keep in mind that my agency had closed and the theatre where I was employed wasn’t hiring. In effect, I had absolutely no income whatsoever. I didn’t know what else to do, so I looked into doing extra work. I hadn’t done any extra work in nearly 20 years, and it wasn’t necessary for me to do any over the last decade, because all of my acting-based income for the last ten years (including over $15k in savings/401k I had built and lost) was generated from principal, lead, or supporting work. Needless to say, at the time I considered diving back into the extras world, I was feeling a bit defeated and deflated. But I absolutely needed to generate income so that my life could get back on track. Therefore, I made my way over to Central Casting in Burbank, which is the premiere extras casting agency (in LA and probably the world), so that I could get listed.

If you know anything about their registration process, you know that in order to register, you must arrive very early in the morning (like 4:30am) and wait in line for hours (until 9am or so) just to make certain you make the cut to be in the registration group for that day. They only take so many people each time they register, and they only register a couple of days a week. Naturally, I was running late that day, and didn’t arrive until about an hour and a half before they began letting people inside. But I stuck it out anyway and waited in line for an hour or two. I met some really wonderful people in line. We ordered coffee together and kept each other company until it was time to count off for entry. The doorman who controls everything counted and counted until he finally got to the person in front of me…and stopped. I had missed entry by one person. FUCK! One of my last ditch efforts to generate income and I missed it by ONE FUCKING PERSON! I wasn’t going to let this stand. I proceeded to ‘pull out my chapstick’ as my friend Elijah says. Which is our code for putting on a winning smile and positive attitude. I then walked up to him with genuine genuflect in my voice and said, “Excuse me, I’ve been away from this for a while…If I was already registered about 20 years ago, would I still be in their system?” The doorman’s tone became immediately warm and helpful. He answered with a gracious tone, “Oh yeah, sure man. Let me get your info and I’ll go take a quick look for you.” I jotted down my identifying information for him. He took it, and walked away. Within a minute or two he came back and said, “Check it out, you’re still in the system. It just shows you as ‘inactive’. So all you need to do is come back tomorrow at 10am for the update session”. “Wow. Thank you so much!” I said to him and left gleefully. I returned the next day, updated my information and became active in the system. Within a couple of days I was on set doing extra work.

One of my very first extras job was downtown at the LA convention center. It was for an Apple commercial and there were about 350 people there all together (including extras, cast, & crew). i immediately made friends with a few people on this shoot. One of which was a guy named Robert. When I met him, I was utilizing one of my super powers. What is it, you ask? Well, I have this weird 360 awareness, which I think comes from being on stage so much, (or watching too much Xena: Warrior Princess lol) and as I was chatting with one person, I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Robert (who I hadn’t met yet) was sitting at a table by himself and slightly away from everybody. After finishing my conversation, I began to walk back to where my things were and said hi to Robert, whose table was along the way. He stopped me and asked, “Hey, I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation. Did you say that you had done principal work on commercials before?” “Yes.” I answered. “Can I ask you a little bit about that?” he said. “Of course. I’d be delighted to share what I can with you.” I replied. Over the course of the rest of the day, we talked about the industry, shared stories, shared struggles, and even found some of the things we had in common like martial arts and stunt work. Throughout the course of the conversation, Robert mentioned that he was feeling stuck and wanted to move to the next level. I told him about some of my tactics and that I was planning on writing a book about all of them and how my triumvirate approach had aided me in producing some pretty remarkable results. He asked about my techniques and I shared some with him. After a really long talk, I asked him if I could make a recommendation. He agreed and I told him that a key ingredient to my approach was the idea of consciousness. So, the two books I recommend he read were “The Big Leap” and “The Four Agreements”. The two as a pair give a double punch approach to my idea of consciousness: first, becoming aware of what holds you back, and second, creating a code to follow for the future. As we worked over those two days (which was how long the job was), we continued to bond and even connected with others including the first AD, second AD, director, and assistant director. As Tina D’Elia would say, “It was a good day!” :)

Cut to a few days ago. I was doing some extra work again and when I got to holding my face lit up. There sat Robert from the Apple/LA Convention Center job. We immediately went into ‘catch up’ mode, and since we had a little time to talk before the first shot, I figured I’d share a story with him. I said, “I have some really great news and a cool story to share with you!” “Oh?” he said sounding interested. “Oh yes!” I replied. I went on to explain to him that a couple of months ago I received an audition request for a commercial. It was only (and approximately) the 8th audition I attended after moving to Los Angeles. The audition was for State Farm Insurance, and I felt pretty good about it. The good feeling must have been correct, because the very next day I was asked to come in for a callback. This is where things went slightly sideways.

As I mentioned in the beginning of this piece, I went through a really difficult and challenging time over the last two years, which included a debilitating depression. (Link to  “What Would Wonder Woman Do about Depression - Part Two”) due to loosing everything and my life falling apart. Therefore, at the time I received the callback, I had three dollars in my account and the car I owned (which was barely running at the time) was nearly on empty. I remember looking down at the display which told me how many miles I had to go until empty and it said ’27 miles’. The audition was in Santa Monica, and I was in North Hollywood. That was 22 miles round trip, and with LA traffic the way that it was at that time of day, I knew I wasn’t going to make it. What could I do? I was at a stand still.

I began considering my options. On one hand, I had already marked myself as unavailable for extra work AND confirmed for the callback, so I was already out a hundred bucks and had given my word to be there. Besides loosing money, I was obligated to go. I opened up the Bank Of America app and checked my account….I only had $3 in ANY account. This was barely enough for a gallon of gas. And gas was what was missing from this equation…*gasp*! THat’s when it hit me, and I knew exactly how to get just enough gas to get back and forth. It dawned on me that I had a premium AAA membership which provided emergency gas as many times a year as you need it. So I called them up and had them bring me some emergency gas. It took about 45 minutes, but the AAA truck finally made it to me and gave me enough gas so that I could make the round trip to my audition and back.

I made it to the audition 20 minutes early. As I walked up the ramp to the casting office, I noticed a gentleman talking on the phone, while standing on the ramp just below mine. He looked very familiar, and within a second I recognized him as the first A.D. on the Apple commercial where my buddy Robert and I met. I said a prayer that I would  see him in the audition room. After waiting for a period, it was my turn to audition and it was a cakewalk. It was for a stunt person, so they asked me to do a couple of easy falls. After which they brought in another guy who did a basic mirroring acting exercise. The audition was actually a lot of fun and we ended on a fantastic note. I got in my car and went to the gym which was only a few blocks away and proceeded to get in a killer celebratory workout.

About two weeks passed. I was sitting in my brother’s room and, was preparing my next move. I heard absolutely nothing from the commercial. so I had released it in my mind and come to the conclusion that it went to another actor. That’s when my phone rang. I looked down and it was my agent. He must have another audition for me. I picked up the phone, “Hey, Joe!” “Hi Brian.” I knew something was up. My agent is a ‘get to the point’ kind of guy, so when he didn’t immediately go into audition information, I knew it was a kind of news. “What’s going on?” “Well, you’ve got a fitting for that State Farm commercial. It’s between you and another guy. They want to see you both to see who fits the costume the best.” “Okay. Where and when?” I got the information, went to the fitting, and made sure that I was my best Brian possible. I was wearing my usual Wonder Woman attire which included WW T-Shirt, necklace, bracelets, socks, and phone. I had a lot of commercial experience (over 110 commercials and industrials), and had a good bit of stunt experience, including costume work. And, since they were the effects company who did all the Marvel movies, I being a collector with over $15k in comic books, immediately had tons of things to talk about with them. They shared their concerns with me, and I assured them they had nothing to worry about by answering any and all questions. The other guy got there, and I was wrapped. Needless to say, I left the fitting feeling very strong. At least so I thought.

I heard absolutely nothing from my agent for a week. The phone rang and it was my agent. He let me know that he inquired and they haven’t made a decision as of yet. Another week went by and I accepted that I hadn’t booked this one. So, I let it go. Two weeks had gone by, and if I didn’t hear anything by now, then I probably wouldn’t. So I began to pray, and ask the universe to guide me to the next one. Louis walked in just as I got started meditating. We began chatting about our day and I heard my phone ring. I looked to see my agent’s name come up. It’s Friday at 4:30pm. Business should be…”*gasp*! This is it!” I said audibly to Louis. I knew that the commercial shot in a week, and they had to make a decision today. I answered the phone and heard my agent’s voice. It had a weird smirking tone as he said, “Hey Brian, it’s Joe. I’ve got some bad news for you…(pause)…You booked it!” And with that, I booked a principal role in a SAG/AFTRA National Commercial where I was opposite two celebrities. The exciting part about this, is when I got onto set and walked into my dressing room/trailer the second AD was waiting for me….and he was the same one that was on the Apple commercial where I was an extra. Matter of fact, the first AD, second AD, assistant director, and director were all the same exact people from the Apple commercial where Robert and I met. My world had come full circle in just a few months. But here’s the kicker…I still didn’t have the money to properly fix my car. So the day we were filming, I had to take the bus to set. And since I didn’t have enough money to get back home, I went to set on faith. Knowing that I might have to call Louis for a pickup. Luckily for me, I was able to get a ride home, and when I got home a check from last week’s extra work was waiting for me. So I made it back and forth to set with no problem for day 2. However, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without asking myself 5 questions about 5 specific topics along the way. Here are my five suggestions for things to ask yourself when attempting to move to the next level in your journey.

ONE - DO YOU HAVE FAITH? Wonder Woman once said that “Faith is a perception beyond the vision. Sometimes we must close our eyes to see the light”. This lines up with the Bible’s idea of ‘walking in faith and not by sight”. Not to say that we should deny reality, but that we must rather “Run with the Vision”. In earlier posts I posed the question: “What’s your mission?” After figuring out what your mission is, you can then create a tangible and detailed vision for yourself and your career, which I cover in “My Annual Business Plan Creation: ‘Twice As Good’”. And by having a detailed vision, you then have something tangible in which to have faith. By having your own simple, clear, distinct, detailed, and realistic vision, you have something in which to believe, to refer, and ultimately manifest and bring into fruition. The law of attraction states that ‘thoughts become things’. So when our thoughts are clear and direct we can manifest that much more efficiently. But remember that the law of attraction is neutral. So if your vision is selfish, you will produce results as such. If your vision is full of love, it will be full of love; bountiful and effervescent. Universal law is that we reap what we sow. The bible references the law of the universe when it mentions that things return to us ‘7 times 7’. So again, be careful about what you want and why. Therefore, to make sure you’re on the most efficient, effective, positive, and clear path as possible, One of my favorite first questions to ask is: Do I have a simple, clear, distinct, detailed, and realistic vision, and do I wholeheartedly believe and have faith in my vision? Because thoughts truly do become things. You just have to have faith, and very much like my aforementioned story mentioned, it may even be in the most difficult and trying of times!

TWO - WHAT CAN YOU DO RIGHT NOW? Sometimes, things can be more trying than usual, and your faith will be tested. Often without warning and sometimes repeatedly. Emotions will run high, and circumstances will seem near impossible. That’s why after you first, have grounded yourself through having faith, you can then move to step two which is to figure out what steps you can take right now. For me, figuring out situations in life very much parallels figuring out a character’s journey as an actor. When preparing a character we first figure out the given circumstances of that universe and how it works, which then grants us the ability to begin to make informed choices on what to do next. When we create the ‘givens’ of our own universe through detailed mission and vision, we are creating the intention for how things are going to run. It is after that, we can then make informed decisions on what to do next. This way, when we are in situations like when I was completely without gas or ability to get to a callback, I knew that my mission and vision was clear and that I had to accomplish this. Therefore, I simply asked, what I could do right now to ensure it happened and came to fruition. Mine was to call AAA to get gas so that I could make it to my callback. It was an answer that required a little creativity, but that is part of what it takes to win and create your own game of creating the character detailed in your mission and vision. So when things get tough and your faith is tested, rely on your mission and vision as a guide. Look back over it and ask yourself if there are simple, clear, distinct, detailed, and realistic tangible steps that you can take right now to ensure this step of your mission/vision come to fruition? Just be prepared for what the answer may ask of you.

THREE - ARE YOU MAKING SACRIFICES WHEN NECESSARY? You may have created a very clear and precise mission and vision, you may have strong faith in it, and you might even have been able to figure out what to do right now as a next step. But what happens when that next step requires you to make a sacrifice?  My thoughts on this are pretty simple. Ask if the sacrifice is necessary, and if so…then make it! I had to ask myself this when I was first asked to attend the callback for the national commercial. I had been supporting myself with extra work, and was being asked if I could work the day of the callback. Although I was in a particularly precarious situation financially, I knew I had some options. First, I could opt to not attend the audition, and instead make money, which I needed. If I did, then I was missing out on an opportunity to begin working my way up the corporate ladder of success in the industry, which would ensure I stayed in ‘the mailroom’ level of the corporate pyramid even longer. The second was to to do more extra work on the day of the callback audition. Instead, I skipped a days pay and attended the callback. I knew that attending a callback of this magnitude would put me into a very strong chance of booking the job. I realized that skipping a day’s pay was a necessary sacrifice toward moving up the ladder of success. So that is my third question when faced with a potential sacrifice: Is this a tangible and necessary sacrifice? But a new problem, may come into your path after you’ve made some sacrifices. It is when the sacrifice presented seems too much to handle.

FOUR - ARE YOU COMFORTABLE BEING UNCOMFORTABLE? Sacrifices like deciding to attend a callback audition to book a national commercial instead of working for a day, were the kind of sacrifices which I had grown accustomed to making.  Mostly because the same scenario would return to me regularly for the last ten years in San Francisco. I was comfortable being uncomfortable, but only in a certain arena, and that was with scheduling and day to day matters. I hadn’t experienced it on a larger scale in a long time. I had known for a while that a bigger sacrifice was looming over my head, but it wasn’t until the events of “What Would Wonder Woman Do about Depression: Part Two” that I was forced to make it. What i discovered is that the idea of making sacrifices and potentially being perpetually uncomfortable was something that affected all areas of life when accepting the position of performer as an independent contractor. We must truly learn to be comfortable being uncomfortable. This can be one of the most difficult steps in climbing the corporate ladder, but once it is gotten, it can be a gateway toward the final step toward reaching new levels in one’s journey as a performer. So ask yourself about most things in your life and career: Am I comfortable being uncomfortable? Some people come to answer this quickly, and some do so at a slower pace. But it’s those who are able to get to this place quickly that are often the ones asking this fifth and final question.

FIVE - ALWAYS ASK ‘WHAT’S NEXT?’ Unless you come upon a ‘Flo’ Progressive Insurance deal where one or two days of work can potentially pay your entire year’s salary, then you’re probably like every other performer who are in a perpetual state of looking for the next job. If you are a performer who is making a living at your art, then one day of work could probably pay for a month’s salary. Therefore, the career artist will constantly be asking his/her self ‘what’s next?’. The very next day that I wrapped on filming my national commercial for this year, I wondered “What’s Next?”, because I knew this job: wouldn’t pay for a full year’s salary, wasn’t going to pay forever, wasn’t going to last forever, nor was it going to be career longevity. So once I was out of the moment of working that job, I was immediately ambitious and hungry for the next one. Therefore, this question was a great guide on my journey.

I noticed that there was an secondary benefit to having this question as a helpful career guide: I wasn’t sweating the small stuff. You see, after the national commercial, I also continued to do extra work, so that in between residual checks I was keeping enough money flowing and continuing to pay bills in a timely manner (Mostly lol). When I arrived on a set for extra work, I was always completely prepared and attentive to getting the job done as efficiently and effectively as possible, due to my mind being on my big personal goals. Extra work was a supplement so that I could get the work for my main job done. I was literally not sweating the small stuff on the set of my extra work jobs because I was so focused on getting things done for my main job, which was principal/lead work. I did continue to do more principal work in other arenas, because I was seeking them out and asking what’s next continued to be my guide. At one point this year, I was in the holding of an extra work job, memorizing a SIX PAGE script (of nothing but me talking to camera - with no teleprompter, mind you) for an industrial commercial I was shooting for a major fortune 500 company a few days later. I was not sweating the small stuff, and physically working on what was next! Keep in mind that I never advocate laxing on your duties at one job for another, but since extra work didn’t require anything but being there, and often times sitting for hours in holding, I knew there would be a lot of down time for me to read or study. So I made the best use of time possible which helped me to stay productive, active, and avoid being physically or mentally sluggish. I was staying mentally, emotionally, and even physically healthy by utilizing “What’s Next?” as a guide. This is usually a pretty good litmus test for those making a living at their art and those who don’t.

WHEN YOU’RE REACHING AND LEAPING, DO IT WITH WONDER The last two years, I have learned a lot about myself, my career, and the world around me. Mostly of my take away has been how it all fits and works together. It’s why I have endeavored to finish writing a book which takes my own personal experiences and use them to craft an autobiographical narrative which helps encourage and elucidate young artists in their journey. The previous entry was an sample portion of a chapter in the book that I am crafting. My hope is that the book will create a powerful three pronged spotlight. One which illuminates: 1) the corporate structure of performers’ careers, 2) The powerful triumvirate needed to create a competitive artist, and 3) an the glue on how it all works together in an empowering, inspiring narrative to help support the next generation of performers toward being the best they can be!

This previous chapter talked about moving to the next level of one’s career. For me, I found five commonalities with those working in careers where there are continual new levels to explore. Those five commonalities began with creating a fully crafted vision, and having faith in it. Then, (#2) taking tangible next steps in the now, which are sometimes (#3) sacrifices. All while (#4) getting comfortable being uncomfortable in many of those sacrifices, and after each goal has been achieved asking (#5) ‘What’s Next?’. They are five commonalities of those on the path of success and five ways/questions to ask yourself to see where you are in that journey. In my book, I’ll have additional writings to accompany this one which explain some of the previous work and personal theories which fuel each chapter, but for now I’ll just say that NONE of those five questions should be asked without a sense of wonder behind it. I believe it to be imperative that each step of one’s career (like everything in life) be approached with a sense of wonder. When you ‘wonder’ you are expressing a true love for something. and replace asking more questions in the spot where your assumptions arise, it will transform your life. It will cause you to seek opportunities at every level, and the questions it will get you asking will be in alignment to the five I previously mentioned, if not them exactly. So as you are reaching that next place in your journey and are taking a new big leap in your career, do it with a sense of wonder.

I hope you found value in this post.

Best,

Brian J. Patterson “Only love can truly save the world!” - Wonder Woman

[news-mashable-yahoopartner-blog]

Interview: Chrissy Teigen, on how to definitively win the internet

Chrissy Teigen is sitting on a plush chair, in a pea green room, in a brightly lit suite at the Gramercy Park Hotel, overlooking lower Manhattan. The room's adorned with oversized hamburger pillows, french fry blankets, and neat stacks of McBiscuit sandwiches. 

"That," says Teigen, "is actually a McDunker." She points to a small plastic device. "You put the sauce in the bottom, and it dunks your nuggets on its own."

The entire thing—a press junket for McDelivery, a partnership between McDonald's and Uber—feels like a distinctly 2017 fever dream, as conceived by a millennial Salvador Dali, staffed at some ad agency as a "Creative."Already for the promotion, Teigen's given McDonald's merch to fire fighters and visited a McDonald's in Manhattan. Now she's sitting here, talking about McSwag.

Teigen says she genuinely, really, really, really loves McDonald's. When asked how she got involved with McDelivery, she explains: "I think [McDonald's] saw me. I was wearing a Big Mac pajama set that was just randomly sent to me, and I think I put that on my social media."

pic.twitter.com/QqcC18io4O

— christine teigen (@chrissyteigen) December 21, 2016

"They know that I’m an obvious fan too. There’s a lot of McDonalds in my life," Teigen continues.

It's true. Teigen actually had a McDonald's-catered baby shower (hosted by Kim Kardashian). It's why the McDonald's promotion, despite being an "#ad" (as Teigen labeled a recent Instagram post) and absurdist praise of the McDonalds products ("This white hoodie is my favorite because it keeps your sandwich warm in its little pocket.") ultimately feels like an extension of something Teigen would be doing, anyway.

And maybe that's genuinely the secret to Chrissy Teigen's sauce: Whether she's helping McDonald's promote their brand, or reacting in horror at the Oscars, Chrissy Teigen is herself. At all times. 

Especially on the internet.

The Unified Chaos Theory of Chrissy Teigen's Digital Persona

If you try to get Chrissy Teigen to describe her online persona, well: She can't.

"I don’t know. Mine's so different at all times," she said. "I’m so moody with it."

But for her, that's also kind of the point. Rather than promote a manicured online presence, Teigen says she's kind of just thrown everything at the proverbial social media wall.

"It didn't start out being easy to say whatever you wanted [on the internet], because some people, they just don’t know you," explains Teigen. "You kind of have to come out the gate really showing different sides of your personality, and people start to, years later, get used to the fact that you’re going to be politically involved, you’re going to livetweet [Real] Housewives a lot, you’re going to talk about food. And people start to realize: that’s just you. And they start to accept you."

And it's worked. If nothing else, Teigen cultivated a reputation for being "real," which is to say, as that rare celebrity who might actually think what we think, say what we'd say, and do what we'd do. 

Realness comes at a premium. It's why she made Time's 2017 list of the most influential people on the internet.

"[My tweets] just depend on what’s happening in the world, and what mood I’m in, and if I’m feeling cheeky or not," says Teigen. "Sometimes I have to stop because I’m like, 'I’m in a bad mood. I shouldn’t tweet right now.' Some days I’m like, I wouldn’t tweet this normally ... John [Legend] is usually like, 'if you want to say it, then just say it.'”

(Don't) do it for the 'gram

Given her devotion to authenticity, it shouldn't come as much of a surprise that if there's one Internet trend that Teigen hates, it's novelty Instagram food.

"I just don’t get it," exclaims Teigen. "Whenever I see something that I feel like people are just doing for Instagram, that frustrates me."

And Teigen feels no need to hold that frustration back.

In July, Teigen sparked the ire of the internet after she blasted rose shaped ice cream.

Oh jfc just fucking scoop the ice cream https://t.co/BfwR3bceup

— christine teigen (@chrissyteigen) July 11, 2017

Teigen says she feels bad how the tweet was interpreted. "I felt really bad about it. I didn’t mean to tear the shop down as an establishment. I very simply said 'no, I don’t like this.'"

That said, she still stands by her original take. 

"Listen, this ice cream might be fantastic, but I’m not going to sit there and watch you form it into a rose just so I can eat it."

And it's not just rose ice cream that Teigen opposes—really, it's anything people are doing just for Instagram.

"I think this stuff's getting too silly, too over the top, I just saw this stupid cotton candy burrito thing. And I’m like, that is not a burrito, that’s just a ton of shit in not even a tortilla. And then there is a rainbow pizza. What is the point?! Eat your pizza. Also, we’re adults! What’s with the rainbow thing?"

The Chrissy Teigen Guide to Proper Clapbacks

Teigen's ability to shade anything and everything on the internet is nothing if not a trademark of hers. For example, she's changed her Twitter bio to "high-quality person" to troll Donald Trump Jr., she roasted Fox News for talking about her, and she's teases her husband John Legend for looking like classic kids' cartoon anteater, Arthur.

To hear it from Teigen, there's one secret ingredient for any epic clapback: facts.

“[A good clapback] takes a little bit of research,” she advises. “I like to do a bit of investigation work into the profiles [of people who come for me], because I think it’s important to have facts. Or to see how 'perfect' they are. That’s a bit of enjoyment of mine."

Last week, Teigen tweeted that she had been blocked by Donald Trump, after years of hating the president.

For Teigen, the block's a trophy. Of sorts.

"It's an exclusive club," says Teigen. "My thing was: I never followed him in the first place. I just I think it’s funny. There’s a button that [people who have been blocked by Trump] all get and it says 'blocked by Trump.' It’s exciting."

As for the block itself, Teigen's got a point. Of all the the things she's tweeted about Donald Trump—including but not limited to things like "Grow. The Fuck. Up" or "You are so insane that I pray I am in a sim played by aliens"—it's interesting that it was a mundane "lol no one likes you" that got Teigen banned.

Nobody can be sure why this tweet was the straw that broke the camels back, but it perfectly aligns with the one lesson Teigen's insistent upon, again and again: we're our most powerful selves on the internet when we're just being, well, ourselves.

After our interview was finished, a friend who heard about the interview with Teigen immediately fired over a Facebook comment to ask: "Was she as amazing in real life as she is online?" The answer, of course, is Teigen's great nonsecret, and possibly the secret to her success as a Beloved Person in Pop Culture, In This Moment: She's exactly like her online presence. Nothing more, and definitely nothing less.