god knows what they are doing~

Day Ninety-Six

-I found a get well card that featured a large bucket of golden retriever puppies under the word, “Heal.” This is potentially the single most pure thing in all of creation.

-A woman leaned over the counter and whispered to me confidentially that the Internet had told her to come into the store today. I have many questions for her, but first and foremost, I would like to know what she would do if the Internet told her to jump off of a bridge.

-I rang up a woman whose actual, legitimate, legal, god-given name was Mulania. The world is truly an enchanted place.

-A woman thanked me. Her toddler gave me a high five. Her infant stuck her tongue out at me. Work has never been so rewarding.

-A man purchased 180 infant clothes hangers. Wherever this child is, they have a wardrobe to rival the stars.

-A young man shouted in agony. His friends asked if he was okay. Dejectedly, he told them, “I was trying to screenshot that one nude.” His companions consoled him with nothing less than complete sincerity and compassion. This is a friendship the likes of which I have never seen before.

anonymous asked:

Have you ever had to restart a short story or book completely from scratch? If so, how did you keep from becoming completely disheartened? Thanks!

Oh God yes, that’s happened to me. I don’t know how you keep from getting upset over something like this – it’s a loss, after all, and upset is the normal response – but it’s what you do in the aftermath that counts.

I need to come at this from two directions: when you lose work you’ve been paid for / have under contract, and when it happens to work you’re doing for pleasure or haven’t yet sold.

My most horrific example of this was when a disc crash combined with corrupt backups left me with nothing two weeks before SPOCK’S WORLD was due at the publisher. “Disheartened” doesn’t begin to describe it, but at the time I had no leisure to indulge that or waste precious work time on screaming fits. My editor told me that the book was due on Day X and THAT WAS THAT. It was the very first hardcover Trek novel. They had commissioned me specifically for this work because they believed I was then the best Star Trek writer available. The book was already heavily presold, and there was no wiggle room in the schedule. My editor didn’t care what I did, but I was expected to act like a professional and get on with it and turn a book in on The Day.

So I pulled up my Big Girl Knickers and got ON with it. I reconstructed and retyped the destroyed 70K of words over one week, and wrote the necessary 40K or so of words necessary to complete the book over the next week. (And it was a good thing that I was both very, very familiar with my material, having been quite close to it for many weeks, and also had an incredibly detailed outline to prompt my memory where it failed.) And having rebuilt what was lost and sent it away, then I spent a few days having a wee collapse (and taking a lot of aspirin: I didn’t have a proper typing chair and had done all that writing in a straight-backed kitchen chair. My back wasn’t right again for nearly a month).

This disaster turned out, in retrospect, to be one of those Blessings In Disguise things: I’m convinced to this day that the recreation of the lost material was far better than the original. And the book did then spend eight weeks on the NYTBS list, which has to be some kind of validation. But if this situation illustrates anything, it’s that firmness of purpose (and sheer terror) can overcome downheartedness pretty easily when the stakes are high enough… as I knew my career and I were dead meat if I didn’t deliver.

Now, work done on your own nickel, without that kind of pressure overshadowing you, is another story.

I remember vividly a short work I’d written, 12,000 words (well, it’s short around here) about one of the painted lanterns made for the Fasnacht carnival in Basel. These lanterns are exquisite works of art, made by the best graphic artists in the city, decorated with topical artwork and involved poetry in Baslerdeutsch, and paraded around the city for the admiration of all… and then, at the end of the carnival, they’re ceremonially burned. This story was about one of these lanterns that – having for some reason or other become sentient – decides not to put up with being burned, and flees.

I was really, REALLY fond of this story, and worked on it on and off over the course of a year. “The Runaway Laderne” was nearly finished when I sent a copy of it to one of my editors to let her take a look of it. And then… bang, another disc crash, and the Laderne was gone for real. But by the time this happened and I contacted my editor to see if I could recover a copy from her, it turned out she’d inadvertently purged it from her mailbox.

I was really, really disappointed about this. And even now, every now and then I find myself undertaking a half-hearted search among some older backups to see if a copy of it might have escaped. But what I knew about the story in the year that followed was that the passion that had driven the writing to the point where the story was 99% done had indeed finished its work: it had burned itself clean in the execution of the work… so would take twice as much energy to recover. And if I couldn’t find the time to work in a reconstruction of the story around work I was being paid to do, then maybe I was just going to have to cut my losses on that story and hope to meet it again in some better place. (I.e., “writer heaven”… where you meet your work in its perfect form, instead of the inevitably flawed stuff that works its way out in a world ridden with entropy.)

There comes a point where you learn to choose your fights. Shock at losing work – and the  initial response of feeling disheartened – I think can be overcome either by necessity, or by the underlying urge to write the story not yet having exhausted itself. There’s definitely a level at which the image of the unwritten work, and the expectation of what it can become if you can just nail the damn thing down on paper or in electrons, will drive you mercilessly until it’s done. (THE DOOR INTO FIRE did that with me: picked me up in its teeth and dragged me back to the typewriter night and day until it was finished.) Other works are more leisurely, and just kind of nag at you from the  sidelines.

But if you’re finished or near-finished, and the initial creative impetus has exhausted itself, then once you’ve recovered from the initial shock of loss, you have to sit down and do your own mental math to determine whether the expenditure of energy needed to recover or reconstruct the work is going to be, as they say over here, “worth the candle”. No one else but you can do that math. It’s unquestionably painful to decide that you can’t or don’t want to commit to reconstruction: but you have to determine what’s to be gained. I can still see that laderne in my head, and feel a bit sorry about its loss:  but I also do know that the story was all but finished, that it was a good piece of work that satisfied me, and that what I learned from it would go to contribute later to other work: because no work you do is wasted, even if it’s lost.

All creative work to some extent – if only a small one – serves to structure the unstructured and impose order on chaos: and where that happens, the universe remembers being structured, and appreciates it. And also, “practice makes perfect”: you may have lost the written, but you haven’t lost the writer, and the impress of what you did has sunk itself into your synapses. Even when lost, the work was worth doing, and its spirit will covertly animate your next piece of work. So if you’ve lost something, don’t despair: get up, dust yourself off and open a new file or roll a blank page into the typewriter. Stories may get lost, but Story is immortal: possibly more so than we are.  

HTH. :)

a-smol-potatoe  asked:

Honestly im surprised that Prince Matthew can wear that fancy coat for so long! Doesn't get uncomfortable?

matthew: i can’t even buy any clothes here in spitbucket! they’re all brown and black and grey and itchy! 

matthew: all of my other clothes got left behind when i was kidnapped.

matthew: even taking the coat off won’t do anything because the shirt under it is just as hot.

matthew: i hate my life

I am very fascinated by religion, as you can tell. So I try to have characters–Stormlight is a good example. I wanted to have characters who are on all different types of spectrums. You’ve got Kaladin who’s agnostic. It’s basically the classic “I don’t know if there’s a god. If there is, I’m angry at him.” You’ve got Dalinar, who’s a reformist. He’s a Martin Luther, he’s a Mohammed, he’s a Joseph Smith. You know, “Religion is not doing what it needs to right now, we need to expand this.” You’ve got someone like Navani who’s a traditionalist, who wants the old religion to really work, who is trying to reconcile this. You’ve got Jasnah who is straight-up atheist. And then you’ve got someone more like Taravangian who would claim to be an atheist, but what he’s done is taken something nonreligious and ascribed religion to it, sort of like Confucianism, where something that was a philosophy is turning into a religion. And I try to get people on all sides of this thing. And also the religions. You’ve got the Alethi, you’ve got the Passions, you’ve got different ways to approach it, because I think that makes for a more interesting story when you like all these people and then they disagree.

every time i meet an adult that says that children are liars, i automatically distrust them. yes, some kids lie. but you need to focus on why your kid feels the need to lie before you start labeling all children as liars. they may need attention for a reason more complex than you write it off as.

do you know what calling children liars does? it guarantees that the day a child comes to you with the truth, asking for help, maybe over a matter as grave as their god damn lives, youll disbelieve them and let that child suffer. what happens to them will be your fault because you didnt fucking save them. and if it rots their mind when they grow up, itll be your face haunting them just as much as their abusers’

anonymous asked:

I have this headcanon that Doctor Who and Supergirl take place in the same universe and the DEO is always having arguments with Torchwood over stupid stuff but there also like England needs to get its act together do they know how many alien invasions they have in a year.

OH MY GOD.

SHOULD I MAKE A MINIFIC OF THIS.

J’ONN’S ARGUMENTS WITH JACK.

JACK HITTING ON VASQUEZ AND WINN BEING LIKE “DUDE STOP SHE GAY” AND JACK LOOKING WINN UP AND DOWN AND BEING LIKE “WELL WHAT ABOUT YOU, HANDSOME, WANNA SPEND SOME TIME IN THE SPARRING ROOM?” AND WINN IS SO CONFUSED ABOUT HIS SEXUALITY.

AND GWEN AND ALEX BONDING OVER ROLLING THEIR EYES BEHIND JACK’S BACK EVERY FIVE SECONDS.

AND JACK JUMPS IN FRONT OF A BULLET FOR JAMES AND EVERYONE FROM THE DEO IS HORRIFIED THAT HE’S DEAD AND IANTO’S JUST STANDING THERE LIKE “IT’S OKAY, HE DOES THAT” AND WHEN HE COMES BACK TO LIFE HE ASKS IF JAMES WANTS TO GIVE HIM A KISS FOR HIS EFFORT AND J’ONN’S JUST LIKE “DEAR GOD CAN THEY GO BACK TO CARDIFF ALREADY.”

AND JACK CALLS J’ONN AFTER MYRIAD LIKE “SO LOOKS LIKE YOU ALMOST BLEW IT THERE, BUDDY: NO PUN INTENDED” AND J’ONN IS LIKE “I WILL SET SUPERGIRL LOOSE ON YOU WITHOUT A SECOND THOUGHT” AND JACK IS LIKE “OH, PLEASE DO” AND J’ONN IS LIKE “SHE’S MY EARTH DAUGHTER YOU CAN’T HIT ON HER” AND JACK’S LIKE “MAYBE NOT BUT I CAN TRY.”

AND IT TURNS OUT THAT THEY SECRETLY ACTUALLY REALLY LOVE EACH OTHER BECAUSE JACK SAVED J’ONN’S LIFE WHEN HE WAS FIRST ON EARTH BUT NOW THAT IT’S BEEN THREE HUNDRED YEARS THEY’RE BOTH SO (AFFECTIONATELY) DONE WITH EACH OTHER.

Sorry for the caps I just have so many feelings rn.  

5

Tobias: Look, B. I know I’ve been kind of a dick about people finding out about us and stuff, like, I practically saw your life flash before your eyes when you mentioned telling your grandmas and I don’t.. I don’t want that. I want you to know that I’m not ashamed of you. I’m not even ashamed of who I am. Do you- Do you believe that?

Bennett: I guess, yeah.

Tobias: My mom always told me I was gonna grow up to be a huge soccer star, y’know? And after she died I just, I felt like I owed her that. And believe me, I fucking hate the way the league is. I hate the idea that teams would drop me just for being gay, but I can’t risk it. At least not before I even have anything to lose. You and me- this is okay? We’re okay, right?

Bennett: ‘Bias. As long as you’re not being a dick to me, I don’t care if the whole world knows or if no one ever finds out. As long as you don’t shut me out. Okay?

Tobias: Yeah, okay. 

mlledefer  asked:

So, for a happy HC After his death, Ardyn is finally able to reconcile with his family and get a big hug from his daughter:"We miss you, dada" This is probably never gonna happen, but it's nice to dream something happy once in a while

Oh dear you’ve gone and opened up a fucking crate of head canon feels here I go… Because I had a similar thought before.

A few quick disclaimers before I continue… First, I’m writing and drawing this within the context of my own head canon (because what else would I do?) so it’s up to your to swap things out for your own or…. you know… disregard all of it and tell me to go fuck myself. Heheheh…
Second, a little background music always helps, and I came up with all of this while listening to the ending theme of FFVIII. It’s so perfect…. ah god I love this song.
THIRD.. This post will give a little more insight to what I have here.

FOURTH I’M SORRY

Ardyn woke up gasping as if he’d not felt breath in ages. He had died, he knew. He had done it. But he was awake. He was… strangely conscious. Not again, he thought. I beat this… I can’t be…

His vision focused and he suddenly realized his surroundings. He knew this place, though it was a sore sight for the glory it once held. Around him were the scorched remains of his bedroom in his marital home. Izunia had burned it along with everything else tied to his legacy. He was on his old bed, a place he’d known numerous pleasures. Not just where he made love to his wife and others, but where his two children were born. Where countless mornings were spent wrapped in another’s embrace, wasting the day away. Where he slept, warm and safe. The silk sheets were now damp and moldy, or at least what little remained of them. Once brightened by vibrant color, the walls and decor were gray and decayed. Ardyn looked towards the windows but could only see a thick fog. It was as if there was nothing out there.

Slowly, he sat up from the bed and placed his feet on the ground. He spent a moment trying to understand whatever could be happening, but there was no answer. Looking upon this place was too much. He felt like destroying all of it, but at the same time, could never bring himself to actually do it. Before he could think too much about it, however, he heard something. A child? Laughing? He jolted to face the door and through it he swore he saw a young blonde girl rush by. Standing, he called “Who’s there?” No response. Cautiously, he crept into the hallway, seeking the figure he’d just seen but finding nothing but more ruined remnants of his once peaceful life. The staircase just a ways off, and he could hear more giggling below. He made his way.

The first thing he saw was his old piano. He’d play for his family and guests, whatever song they enjoyed most. He taught his son, Aiolus, to play and had just begun teaching his small daughter, Galena, to play as well. At least before everything had gone terribly wrong. Just behind the piano were the doors to the back yard, where he and his wife, Florentia, hosted numerous parties. How many times had he gotten so drunk and sang gibberish at the top of his lungs? Gods, there was no telling. Ardyn swore he could hear a joyous crowd out there at this moment. And yet, the area was shrouded and lifeless. 

He continued to make his way, now coming to the dining room. There used to be many more chairs around the table, but only two were left, and sitting on them would prove hazardous. Against the wall was an old chest of drawers where they kept pretty much nothing useful. Ardyn slid his hand against the wood. It was rough and dusty. But as he touched it, he could hear voices echoing through his mind. Playful children, laughing, and jovial conversation with wine. A grimace grew upon his face. What kind of sick joke was this?

The last thing he’d expected was any sort of afterlife, but Bahamut saw fit to torment him further with an eternity alone in the shattered remains of his home? “So…” he whispered to himself, “You cannot get enough of my anguish? Well played…” He did have to hand it to the astrals. This was far worse than living in darkness in a mortal plane for so many centuries.

But there it was again. The innocent giggling of a child. Ardyn turned sharply in its direction, towards the foyer, and this time caught a decent glimpse of his guest. A young girl, with long blonde hair and straight bangs, wearing a white dress. She was smiling so warmly at him, and suddenly rushed off towards the front doors. He took off at once, calling out “Wait!”

He’d reached the wide double doors leading to the outside, but did not find the girl. She meant for him to go out there, he knew, but he was extremely hesitant. At least in here he had the comfort of knowing what was his. All that could be out there was possibly even more agony. And yet…. something about that child… Something so sweet and familiar. Something warm and trustworthy. His breath shook and his hand trembled over the handle of the doors. There wasn’t much more his mind could take… It had been so long…. It had been so horrible. And he’d done awful things just to be allowed to rest, and he didn’t care about any of that. He was glad he had done it. So there couldn’t be anything worth seeing beyond these walls…

When the prophecy is fulfilled, those in thrall to darkness shall know peace.

The words came to him from nowhere, as if the very walls spoke to him. But he knew that voice, and he remembered their keeper… Lunafreya. Was that who he saw?

Whatever was out there… he knew he’d eventually go through. Now was better than ever. Just get it over with… Ardyn sucked in a deep breath and swung the doors open in one fluid motion with his eyes shut tight, bracing himself for the worst.

Through his eyelids, he saw… light.
Vibrant, bright light.
And then… the sounds… of cheering.

Slowly he opened his eyes, his vision gradually adjusting to the sudden glow. And there they were… everyone. The streets were filled with familiar faces. People he knew. People he lived amongst. People he loved and cared for. People he protected from Izunia’s wrath and the starscourge. So many of them.. all before him once again. All of them in an uproar of ovation, laughing, yelling, crying… He knew all these faces, even in passing. This was his home. Everything was new and vivid, full of the life he remembered. Ardyn stood there motionless, lost for breath. The shock had rendered him dumbfounded. What was happening? What was this?!

Before any of this could take him away, he heard it….

“PAPA!!!”

The crowd dispersed to reveal the figures he’d mourned for centuries… There they were. Right before him. Florentia, Aiolus, and Galena. Ardyn fell immediately to his knees as his two young children rushed into him, holding him and crying as hard as they could. Especially Aiolus, who was always a sensitive boy. He felt their desperate clinging and pressed them against him, smiling and crying.

Florentia stood a short ways away, allowing her husband to adore his children once again. She had, after all, witnessed everything. There would be much to talk about, and she would love him all the same.

“Dad…” Ailous sobbed happily, burying his face into his chest, clinging to his coat as if for dear life. “I missed you… I missed you so much… Dad… I…”

“Papaaa!” Galena practically sang the word. She reached her tiny hands to grab upon him and laughed enthusiastically as she always had.

Ardyn held them so tightly… “My…. my… It’s really you….” There was no holding it back. He was crying so hard. But the feeling of his children in his arms again… it was too much. Though smiling, he sobbed into them. All of a sudden, everything… everything that had passed in his over two thousand year life came rushing through him. And now…. none of it mattered. He no longer cared. This… this was everything. Just like it had been. “I’m here… I’m home. I’ve….” He gasped between words, unable to compose himself. These were emotions he’d long forgotten. Feeling them now, in such abundance, was more than overwhelming. “I’ve missed you… so much. I love you… My sweet children… by the gods… I have missed you…”

In the middle of the moment, Ardyn suddenly became aware of a presence amid the crowd… He looked up and saw the figure beckoning his attention.

And there she was…

Lady Lunafreya…

She looked upon him softly, and he could see her lips moving to speak. Though the distance between them was distinguishable, he could hear her as if she were standing right beside him…

I’m really lonely. Not even for someone to be here because I’ve got the cats and I’ve had more physical contact with a human more in the past week than I have in like three years. But for someone who understands. Someone who gets my brain and who I can talk to. Actually talk too.

artisticsay  asked:

Kara uses the portal hopper to see Barry with relation ship problems.

Kara: Barry, they ship me with the fuckboi pls help

Barry: They ship me with anyone else except the black woman who has been my best friend since we’re kids so I don’t know what to tell you

Kara: Yeah but you and Iris are together right?

Barry: I mean yeah but a speed god kills her in the future and maybe I’m not fast enough to save her so…

Kara: Who is doing that to us?

Barry: THE CW

anonymous asked:

They cancelled the Popeye movie?? More people would have gone to see that then a movie about emojis

I kind of agree there. You can’t deny Emojis are popular as fuck, but thats mostly the younger generation. Popeye is a god damn classic. People even now watch Popeye. He’s a staple of the classic cartoon era along with The Pink Panther, Looney Tunes, and Mickey Mouse. Since millions of people know about Popeye, including the older generations that grew up with them, it would’ve attracted all kinds of audiences both old and new.

And besides, the animation looks fucking awesome from that small clip I linked. Like, it genuinely had some pretty good slapstick comedy and unique animation. BUT WHAT DO I KNOW. I guess yellow faces and smiling poops will sell well too.

  • me meeting adore delano: oh my god you mean so much to me i love your music and you're like a huge fashion inspiration
  • adore: aw tha--
  • me: never rap.
  • adore: what
  • me: you know that shit you do when you like talk-rap in the middle of your songs instead of using the good voice God (the lord, Jesus Christ, our savior) gave you? yeah stop doing that
  • adore:
  • me being carried away bridle-style by security: CANT WAIT FOR ALL STARS 3

anonymous asked:

100 with raychael pls?!?

“You can only suffer through my whining for so long until you get up and make me a sandwich.”

“It’s just— It’s cruel, really, letting your boyfriend starve like this.”

“Shut up,” Michael says, not looking up from the television.

“I thought you loved me.”

“Stop talking, I know what you’re doing. I’m gonna beat your fucking high score, Ray.”

“You can only suffer through my whining for so long until you get up and make me a sandwich.”

Ray.”

Ray sprawls out on the couch, purposefully trying to lie on top of Michael. “I’m not even asking for much. It can be shitty American cheese on Wonder Bread. I’d still appreciate it. Because I appreciate you. Because I’m a great boyfriend.”

“Get off, I’m fucking two hundred points away, I swear to god if you fuck me up I’m going to shove this controller up your ass.”

“Hot.”

anonymous asked:

I'm so scared for tomorrow's episode Like I wasn't feeling nervous until I saw Griffin's tweet and then I'm pretty sure my soul left my body and I'm just freaking out. What do you think is gonna happen?? Somebody dies? Just some awesome friendship overpowering Wonderland stuff?? Just general epic stuff?

GOD i dont even know. im VERY worried about merle so im crossing all 10 of my fingers on that. but like still i.. dont think someone will die??

i dont think so. & if they do im assuming itll be beautiful and dramatic and hurt me but also that itll make sense narration-wise so tbh im.. not as scared abt that as i am kind of excited to see how theyre going to play with it

i dont even know if death will be The End for any of the main three? it might even just be a story component, like they wont play but theyll be there (though i know a lot of people are feeling really bad about that and im sorry if it seems like im making light of it! its gonna kill me but in a good way)

i thhhhink that griffin was probably surprised if he had such a strong reaction to it? which means its gonna be unexpected but bittersweet which means my heart will be fucking launched out of my body

tldr there have been so many twists i  have no idea whats gonna happen lol lets hope that all the characters said “i love angus macdonald” so loudly and so in unison that angus broke out of his Being The Final Antagonist persona and just flipped them off instead

anonymous asked:

Anne's historical fate is kinda unknown and uncertain so I just hope the writers use that and let her get out of dodge. Pick both ginger infernos and keep them safe >:(

god, I know :’’( when I can’t fall asleep at night I allow this thought to comfort me but then I remember that our good pal jon steinberg’s approach to history is like [chuckling] “🎶 WE WERE BORN TO MAKE HISTORYYYYYYY 🎶”

they always have and always will choose narrative over historical accuracy (which, to be fair, is what they should do, especially since the record is so spotty, but……..)

SAME ANON!!! D: THIS ONE THING!!!! D: LET US HAVE THIS ONE THING!!!! D:

(also [pulling out scroll] 1) max surviving 2) flint knowing Peace™ 3) the return of abigail ashe 4) betsy the cat swooping in and saving everyone 5) bear mccreary cameo appearance 6)………. 22)……. 58)……….)

anonymous asked:

So I know I'm ace but I'm having a hard time with my romantic orientation. I want to have a romantic relationship but I don't see my self in one, and there's not anyone I could see my self dating either. I feel a little meh with all genders, but I wanna love someone. Do you possibly know anything of what this is?

I know there’s a term for wanting a romantic relationship like that but I am totally blanking & I can’t find it online either– god sometimes I’m really bad at this advice giving– but I’m sure someone reading this knows & can help!!  (I’ll reblog if needed :)