#Log book service near me

[asfaautocare52]

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[proteccar]

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[hearnsmotorrepairs]

[backtotheshitshow]

Wood & Words

Woodworker! James Potter x Princess! Reader.

Summary: Y/n was looking for the castle woodworker to make her some new thing but she might have found something else instead.

Warnings: i don’t know fluff? James has trouble reading in this one….its for the plot I promise.

Part2

James was on his way back from gathering wood from a nearby grove, his horse carrying the necessary gear to pull the massive logs back to the castle grounds.

As they trotted down the path through the fields, he looked about, taking in the scenery.

The grass around him was still damp from the last rain, but the sun was starting to warm the air to be comfortable and he enjoyed the feeling of being out and working.

He dismounted his horse as he arrived back at his wood shed, beginning to unload the logs from the cart.

There’s a small knock on the door of the shed.

“Excuse me. Um Mr Potter is it?” James hears from near by, causing him to stop what he was doing .

To his own surprise he turns to see the princess.

He quickly hid his surprise and nodded to her. He couldn't help sneaking a glance at her.

Her beauty was stunning, and just seeing her made his heart beat faster, a wave of heat running through him.

He smiled at her, his hazel eyes twinkling. He found himself staring at her, captivated by her presence.

"Yes, I'm James... Potter, your majesty." He answered her trying to not look to nervous.

He was very used to being left alone so the sudden visit was setting off his nerves a bit.

“Um how can I help you?” He asked.

“Ah yes… I’ve come to inquire about something.” She said stepping further into the wood shed towards James.

“Of course how can I be of servous?” He said wipping his hands on his pants and taking a few steps forward.

As he got closer she mentally noted that he was a lot more handsome than she thought he might be, despite the dirt that speckled his face and clothes.

“I’m aware that you often make things for the castle. Chairs and things. I was wondering if you would be able to make a few things for me?” She asked, holding her hands behind her back.

“I’ve brought a um…a list.” She pulled a folded piece of paper from her sleeves.

James looked down at the list that he was handed. As he looked at it, an awkward realization dawned on him.

The letters on the parchment swirled as they always did. As if his eyes refused to focus. An irritated look spread across his face.

“Is there something wrong Mr Potter?” She asked concerned.

He looked at her with a sheepish smile. “I’m not…I’m afraid I’m not very good with words your majesty.” He hands her back the list, avoiding her eye contact.

“Oh…” she seemed shocked by his response.

“I’m so very Mr Potter I…I did not mean to…” y/n cut herself off. “That’s alright. I was only hoping you could make me a new book stand, an easel and a stool, I doubt you need a list for that” She said a bit more confidently.

James smiled warmly as she apologised. Not being able to read wasn’t usually a problem. Most of his instructions came with pictures. And it’s not as if he couldn’t read at all, he knew basic words.

"Absolutely, Princess. I can make that for you. Do you have any specifications on what you want them to look like?”

“No. I’m sure whatever you make will suit perfectly fine.” She was quiet for a moment as she thought.

“Perhaps I can repay you for your service Mr Potter. You make the things I asked for and I can perhaps help you with your reading skills?”

James liked that she was being so kind, but the thought of anyone, let alone the princess helping him read made him feel less than adequate.

“There’s no need for that you majesty. This is my job after all, no need for repayment….” James says.

“Well I can still help either way. I’d love to get you some books perhaps.” Y/n offered with a smile.

James was getting irritated, he was trying to be nice but she kept pushing the subject. He didn’t wish to talk about his reading abilities anymore.

“Fogive me if I speak out of turn your majesty, but I don’t wish for you to teach like I am some small child. I have done perfectly fine in life so far with out it.” James says turns away putting some wood in a barrel.

Y/n felt saddened by his response. She hadn’t meant to upset him.

“I-I apologise Mr Potter I did not mean to offend you. I simply…..” she sighed, looking down.

“Very well thank you for taking on this task. I will return Friday next week. Will that be enough time?”

“Yes that should be more than enough time.” He said bluntly.

“Well thank you…um have a nice evening.” Y/n said leaving quietly.

James watched her leave. His heart was racing and his mind was racing even more, He was not sure, but he couldn't help feeling as though he’d disappointed her some how.

……

The following day y/n returned to the wood shed, knocking quietly as she had the day before.

“Mr Potter? Are you here?” She called.

James heard her voice as he was working on her book stand. He wasn't sure why she was here when they had agreed on next Friday, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't happy to see her and find out what she needed.

"Yes! I'm here! I'll be out in just a minute," he said, not wanting to keep her waiting much longer.

“No no take your time I’ve only come to drop off a small gift” y/n explained.

James walked towards her, face dirty and hair a mess, wipping his hands of sawdust with a rag.

James raised an eyebrow at the mention of a gift. He would not complain, but he could not understand why the Princess would want to give him anything, let alone a gift.

“A gift, your majesty?" he asked, still taking the time she offered him.

He was curious and, at the back of his mind, just a touch excited. It wasn't every day that a beautiful princess went out of her way to give him a gift.

“Ah yes….I know you said you didn’t want my help. I understand how you may have felt yesterday. I can see how it may be a bit of a sensitive topic for you. I found this at the markets today.” She placed a book entitled ‘Reading 101’ on his work bench.

“It’s not a childrens book. It’s more..mature then that I thought it might help.” She gave a quick smile.

James wasn’t sure what his reaction should be, he had said he didn’t want her help, but this gesture made it clear she wasn’t taking no for an answer and that oddly comforted him.

Y/n saw the unsure look on his face. “Please except it. I only wish to help.” She blurted out.

“Very well. Thank you.” James said. Moving back to his work.

“Oh…right yes. You’re welcome.” Y/n replied.

James took a glance over to her, he noticed a defeated look on her face. As she began exiting the wood shed he called out to her.

“Your majesty!”

Y/n turned around quickly.

“I mean it…thank you.” He said.

A beaming smile creeped its way onto her face. “Have a nice evening, James.” She said before disappearing.

—————

Hope you enjoy.

Feedback and suggestions are always helpful.💜

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: A Feysand AU

Chapter One

She's a law student turned confidential informant. He's a prosecutor with only one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for illegal activity . . . What could go wrong?

Hi everyone! Here's chapter one. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you're interested in being tagged. Any thoughts on the story are much appreciated, too!

Chapter One

Feyre collapsed against the wall as soon as class was over. Sweat dripped from her temples, sliding over the layer of concealer she had plastered on that morning. She wiped her forehead, swearing to herself once again that this would be the last time she allowed Tamlin to drag her to a Crossfit class.

Even though she had made and broken that same mental promise to herself three times a week for the past six months.

As she guzzled from her near empty water bottle, Tamlin slung a sweaty arm over her shoulders, his skin against hers slick. Oily. “Got any of that left?” Tamlin asked, already reaching for the water bottle.

Feyre sighed, handing it off to him. “A few drops.”

He knocked it back without another word. Not an appreciative smile. No thank you, Feyre. Not even a nod of gratitude for the water he had taken from her.

As she followed Tamlin out of the warehouse where the Crossfit classes were held, Feyre made another vow. The first of its kind, but perhaps with more resolve behind it than the one she had made only moments ago.

She was going to break up with him this week.

Feyre trailed Tamlin through the parking lot, eyes on the back of his neck, his blonde hair stuck to it with sweat. Her boyfriend of over a year had fallen into conversation with his best friend, Lucien. Lucien was also a regular at these Crossfit classes, but had met Tamlin through work. Tamlin had hired Lucien as his Director of Operations at his company, Spring Solutions. Five years later, the duo were best friends.

Lucien climbed into the passenger seat of Tamlin’s expensive truck, leaving Feyre to haul herself into the back as usual. Tamlin swung into the driver’s seat and made short of work of getting the vehicle out of the parking lot and onto the highway that would carry them back into the city, back to the building where Tamlin and Feyre shared an apartment and Lucien lived a few floors down.

As the two discussed something about work—a topic Feyre didn’t particularly care about—she thought more about the terrifying new task she had set for herself.

Breaking up with Tamlin wouldn’t be simple.

Because it was her life, of course, and things were never simple.

She had shared an apartment with Tam, who was nearly seven years her senior, since the beginning of her second year of law school. Now, a month into her third and final year, their lives were fully intertwined. Feyre paid a few hundred dollars of rent each month, but Tamlin footed most of the bill. The downtown apartment was expensive, something Feyre could never afford on her own thanks to her law student’s budget.

She rarely paid for meals, either. Tamlin subscribed to one of those ultra-healthy meal services. A week’s worth of dinners delivered to their door every Monday morning. Feyre cooked them on study breaks, and the two would usually share a quick meal before Tamlin logged back on to work in his home office and Feyre returned to her books.

Most of the furniture was his, as was the art on the walls. The kitchen utensils, pots, pans. The bed they shared. Everything.

If Feyre moved out, she would have to return to her father’s house or increase the amount of student loans she had already taken out that semester. Neither option sounded appealing. She had lived with her father and her two older sisters her whole life—all throughout her undergraduate studies and until the end of her first year of law school. How she had made it so long trapped in that house, caring for her family in much the same way she cared for Tamlin, Feyre had no idea. So when Tamlin had proposed the idea of moving in together, she jumped at the chance. Didn't think farther than Get me out of my childhood home.

She hadn't considered what would happen if things didn’t work out. If she decided he wasn’t the one for her anymore.

She had gone straight from her father’s house to Tamlin’s apartment, and had fallen into Tamlin’s lifestyle, even if she still wasn’t quite used to it.

At least the bed in the guest room was hers, and the nightstand and the few books she had taken from her father’s house. Her painting supplies.

“Babe?” Tamlin’s voice scattered the plans she was fruitlessly trying to cobble together in her mind.

“What?” She inquired, blinking up at her boyfriend.

“I asked if you wanted to get dinner out tonight.”

Feyre bit her lip. She had already put off studying to come to Crossfit—if she didn’t get home soon, she would have to burn the midnight oil to get all her reading for class done at a decent hour.

“I really have to study,” she said quietly, praying he wouldn’t try to convince her to come to dinner. Because he would never let up and she, inevitably, would give in.

At Tamlin’s sigh, she tentatively tried again. “I’m really sorry! I wish my professors didn’t assign such long readings, but I can’t change it.”

He didn’t say anything.

“You know I would come to dinner if I could. I would much rather do that.” The words weren’t new—she’d used some variation of them numerous times over the past year and a half. They had almost lost all meaning to her, but she’d found this was the best combination to keep Tamlin happy: apologize, provide an excuse that was outside of her control, and assure him that he would always be her first choice.

“Alright. We’ll drop you at home and come back later.”

Feyre choked back her sigh of relief. “Sounds good. Thanks, babe.”

Lucien’s eyes met hers in the rearview mirror—one ginger eyebrow cocking slightly. Feyre looked away, gaze fixing on her lap.

Twenty minutes later, she waved at the car as it sped down the street toward Tamlin and Lucien’s favorite sports bar. With any luck, Lucien would get him drinking beers and talking about work, and she would have at least three hours to herself to shower. Study. Maybe even time enough to feign sleep by the time Tamlin returned.

And indeed, she managed to accomplish everything she needed to do just before Tamlin came stumbling into the apartment hours later. Feyre shut her eyes tight from her spot on the right side of the bed, her fledgling plans swirling through her thoughts until she well and truly drifted away.

-----

The next morning, Feyre gazed at herself in the mirror, turning this way and that to make sure every inch of her suit was clean and pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. The black jacket clung to her narrow frame, the pencil skirt she wore beneath it as flattering as a skirt that cut her off just below the knee could be. Her golden-brown hair fell in loose waves just past her shoulders, watery blue eyes popping thanks to the brown mascara she had applied.

“You look amazing,” a voice from behind her said.

Feyre turned, smiling at her boyfriend despite all the promises and plans she had made the night before. “Thanks, honey.”

“What’s the occasion?” Tamlin asked, striding forward and placing his hands on her hips.

Feyre stepped back, grinning up at him. “No touching. I have an important networking event with my firm today and I can’t get all wrinkly.”

Tamlin held up his hands, backing away a step. “My apologies, Ms. Archeron.”

Feyre smiled. Tamlin wasn’t always awful.

Just most of the time.

“So when can I expect you home today?”

Feyre sighed, grabbing her backpack and purse and brushing past Tamlin, striding out of the closet and into the master bathroom. “I’ve got a full day of classes, and then this networking event at six. I’m not sure how long it will go, but I’m really hoping to be back by eight.”

“Just as well,” Tamlin said. “I’ve got a late night at work—probably won’t be home until after ten.” Feyre nodded, and Tamlin followed her out of the bathroom, through the bedroom, and down the hall to the kitchen. Feyre grabbed the smoothie she had made earlier that morning and tucked her lunchbox into her backpack.

“Have a good day, honey,” she said, pressing a kiss to Tamlin’s lips. He nipped at her lower lip, green eyes sparking. But Feyre just smiled, retreated, and didn’t breathe deep until she made it to the hallway, door automatically locking behind her.

This week. She was going to do it this week.

Feyre’s day dragged on in one long, miserable slog. She got cold-called by her professors in two of her classes, but she managed to answer most of the questions correctly, her heart thudding violently in her chest all the while.

Cold calls and the Socratic method of teaching were one of her least favorite parts of law school. Most professors gave no warning to their students before they called their names, subjecting them to several questions of the professor’s choosing. If you didn’t know the answer, they might move on. But some waited for you to at least attempt to respond, while the class stared and stared and hands jumped into the air all around, telling you that they knew the answer, that it was obvious. Answering a question correctly felt wonderful—but answering incorrectly usually caused Feyre’s cheeks to burn a bright red.

It didn’t matter how many of the randomly determined “calls” Feyre endured—every time a professor spoke her name, her hands started sweating, her heart rate climbing up and up and up until the professor moved on to another victim.

She spent a few hours at the library after class, tucked in her favorite corner. It was private, but better than sitting in the main quad where most of the law students gathered to study during daytime hours. Feyre hadn’t spent any notable length of time in the quad since the first semester of her 1L year. As her relationship with Tamlin progressed, the few friends she had made faded away as Feyre opted to attend the fancy dinner parties and events Tamlin invited her to. Maintaining a new relationship and keeping up with her studies didn’t leave much time for anything else—not even friends. That wasn’t to mention the time she had spent at home with her sisters and father her entire first year of school, taking care of most of the housekeeping and cooking duties because the rest of her family had “real jobs” and Feyre was still “just a student” who didn’t work a regular 9-5.

Now, she felt like a ghost in the halls of the school. She would wave to her old friends if they passed in the hallways, but Feyre had long ago accepted that this would be her law school experience: sitting in the back of the classroom, answering questions if forced, and generally keeping to herself.

It was a quiet, small existence she led. Class. Tamlin. Attending whatever events or obligations Tamlin dragged her to. Studying.

After she’d had enough studying for the day, Feyre took the train to downtown Prythian, checking her makeup at least four times before the train arrived at its stop a few blocks from a large hotel and event center in the heart of the city. She started to walk the five minutes to the hotel, staring up at the enormous shiny buildings rising around her.

To think, this would be where she worked full-time in just a few short months.

Thanks to competitive firm recruiting, Feyre had had her post-grad job lined up since the summer. She would be starting as a junior associate at Hybern & Night LLP, one of the largest and most powerful national firms in the country. Jobs at Hybern & Night were hard to come by, but thanks to Feyre’s top 5% ranking at Prythian University Law School, and her ability to say all the right things under pressure, she’d scored a job during early interviewing last summer.

The firm occupied the upper floors of one of the tallest buildings downtown. Tonight it was holding a networking event for its partners, associates, recruits, and other lawyers in the community.

She could have skipped the event, but her career counselor had emphasized how important it was to immerse herself in firm activities as quickly as possible—it would make her transition from student to junior associate much smoother, and allow her to make connections with more senior attorneys and partners who might be willing to provide projects for her to work on when she started.

So, she was here, clicking down the shadowed streets of downtown Prythian, gearing herself up to rub elbows with some of the city's wealthiest attorneys.

Some day soon, she would be one of them.

Feyre tugged her coat closer around herself, the chill in the air signaling autumn’s impending arrival. A block away, the windows of the event center glowed warmly in the shadows of the buildings around her. She increased her pace, and soon found herself ensconced in a world of cocktails and arguments. Feyre made a beeline for the refreshments table. She could certainly count on attorneys to ensure there was an open bar at events like this. She seized a glass of red wine and cast her gaze around the room, but didn’t recognize anyone. She had interviewed with at least five of the attorneys from Hybern & Night in order to get her job, but they were nowhere to be seen.

Feyre thanked the man who served her the wine, swallowing back memories of her own time spent as a bartender at Humane, one of the filthiest hole-in-the-wall bars in all of Prythian. She would have preferred talking to the bartender—less posturing required—but forced herself to skirt around the room, looking around for someone to engage in conversation.

She had almost completed a full lap when an enormous man leaned against the wall just in front of her.

“You look lost,” his deep voice rumbled, light brown hair sliding over his forehead, pale green eyes gazing down at her. His cheeks were flushed—probably from the alcohol—and as his eyes slid over her, Feyre was glad she hadn’t yet removed her coat.

“Not lost. Just—” Feyre broke off, shaking her head. “Feyre Archeron,” she said, offering a hand. “I’ll be starting as a first-year associate at Hybern & Night next August.”

“Jax Smith,” he said, an enormous hand encompassing hers. “I'm in my eighth year at Hybern & Night. Hoping to make partner next year. It’s nice to meet you, Feyre.”

Feyre swallowed, taking her hand back and sliding it into her pocket. “You too.” She cast around for one of her pre-prepared questions: So how do you like working at the firm? Any advice for 3L students preparing to enter the workforce? How do you survive the eighty hour workweeks year after year after year? Is the money worth it?

Luckily, Feyre didn’t have to resort to any of her questions, because Jax spoke for her.

“You look awfully young to be a 3L,” he commented, gaze sliding up and down her body.

Feyre cocked an eyebrow, a chill trailing down her spine. “I’m twenty-three.”

“That’s young.”

Feyre gritted her teeth. This was certainly unprofessional. “Not too young, I hope,” she said, forcing a smile. This man was going to be her coworker. She couldn’t just turn around and flee. “I’ll be twenty-four this December,” she said brightly. “Practically collecting Social Security.”

Jax didn’t smile. Only narrowed his eyes like he was trying to see through her coat.

Feyre swallowed another gulp of wine, and as he inched closer, she realized that the alcove where they stood was mostly obscured by two of the many enormous columns ringing the event center. There weren’t any lights in this section, and no one else seemed to be paying them any attention. The rest of the networking attorneys seemed miles away, even the sounds of their voices muffled by a dull roaring that started in Feyre’s head as Jax’s gaze fixed her in place.

“And are you married, Feyre?” Jax asked, one arm resting on the wall next to her head. His gaze dropped to her left hand, wrapped around the stem of her wineglass, her fourth finger obviously bereft of any ring.

“No,” she said, backing away another step.

But her admission only seemed to encourage Jax. He slid forward, eyes focused somewhere just south of her neck, where her coat had fallen open to reveal the v-neck of her dress shirt. “I would be happy to meet you for a coffee sometime. Maybe even a drink. Tell you more about the firm, away from all these stuffy partners. We could even find somewhere quieter here. To talk.” His eyes slid to the hall that led who-knew-where, just behind Feyre, stretching off into the shadows of the hotel.

Feyre’s eyes widened, a lump forming in her throat. This man was her future coworker, her senior. He might even be partner by the time she started at the firm. To turn him down could be fatal. If he took offense, he could spin it any number of ways: She had no interest in learning more about the firm. Couldn’t care less about team-building and getting to know her coworkers. Clearly came for the wine and nothing else.

He could ruin her reputation. And that was something she couldn’t afford. Not if she ever wanted to be free of Tamlin, of her family.

“What do you say?” Jax asked, bending down, his face so close to hers she could feel his breath hot against her cheek.

“I—” Feyre started.

But another man’s voice, smooth as velvet and gentle as the night, floated into the alcove, startling Jax and sending a wave of relief over Feyre.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

[mitigatedchaos]

"Writing? In 2024?"

Monday, April 29, 2024

(~2,400 words, 12 minutes)

@northshorewave Re: this publishing post:

I've read through the post that was linked, and an earlier related post by the same author that preceded it.

Her position is that the traditional publishing industry is essentially buying books as lottery tickets, paying for most of them using the few big winners they can't predict.

NorthShoreWave - The personal qualities of NSW specifically.

LLMs - Is AI a threat right now? Mostly as spam.

How Many Readers? - One famous book had 3,000 readers on an email list before its Amazon e-book debut, and went on to traditional publishing.

Funding Options - Many authors and artists are currently using subscription services. Some reasoning and numbers are provided.

Illustrations - Should you use illustrations? This lengthy section does a bit of fundamentals analysis of posting to suggest that maybe, you should.

Interaction - Reader replies are one method by which a post will spread.

Search - The people who want to read your story can't read it if they don't know about it. Writing a good book is essential, but only half the battle.

Some thoughts for you:

1 - NorthShoreWave

You implicitly asked if we had discussed your story in detail before, but the answer is that we hadn't. I have a sense of what you're trying to accomplish based on what I've observed of your character. While you think of yourself as seething, I think you're actually wise, compassionate, self-aware, and able to view things from multiple perspectives. A significant number of people are much worse at practicing at least one of these virtues. On its own, that's not enough to write a best-seller, but I think it does provide you with an advantage.

2 - LLMs

Based on my experiments (see @mitigatedai for some logs), I wouldn't worry about competition from AI. For you, the chief issue caused by AI will be spam. AI moves sideways (different text) and downwards (less meaning). I may tell LLMs to "combine Inspector Gadget and Death Note," but...

Do I actually use the information provided? No.

3 - How many readers do you need?

From one of those publishing posts, to get a sense of the number of readers you need...

Andy Weir first published The Martian as a serial for his own blog, then as a self-published novel on Amazon, then as a traditionally published novel with Random House. “I had an email list with about 3,000 people on it, so, initially, the audience was roughly that much,” he tells me. “When I first posted it to Amazon, I didn’t do anything to market or publicize it. All I did was tell my readers it was available there.” The book was on Amazon for five months, at a price point of 99 cents, and he sold 35,000 copies before Random House bought the rights in February of 2014.

Note that being a provocative firebrand doesn't necessarily mean you'll sell copies. Some politicians with tremendous name recognition failed to move copies of their books.

4 - Funding Options

I don't recommend using a Kickstarter to publish your book at this time or in the near future. You just don't have the name recognition, but also, Slashdotter Caimlas (who I don't know, so I don't know how trustworthy he is) wrote:

I'm personal friends with a number of authors who publish books in one of several subgenres. Mostly, they rely on Amazon's Kindle Unlimited: some of them are prolific enough that their book sales account for most of their income, simply based on peoples' reading of their works. Mostly, unless people want a piece of history or something they can reference, folks seem to hate having clutter. Fiction that sells isn't usually, primarily sold as a hardcopy book anymore, I don't believe - short of the kinds of books that end up at the end of the grocery store isle or in an airport novelty store.

A lot of publishing is done online these days, often through subscription services such as Substack (for essays) or Patreon. (Kindle Unlimited is also a subscription service, costing $12/mo.) As an example, the webcomic Spinnerette has a Patreon (bringing down $3.3k/mo), and then runs Kickstarter campaigns for print runs (volume 8 raised $27k).

To give you an estimate, Spinnerette's Patreon has only 536 subscribers, and pulls down $3.3k/mo, but you probably haven't heard of it. El Goonish Shive, which I'm confident you have heard of, brings in $3.6k/mo on 2.4k subscribers. The famous Kill Six Billion Demons has ~5.4k subscribers, bringing down ~$8.4k.

In Patreon terms, a good foothold to try for might be 100 subscribers at $3/mo each, with an initial focus on getting to 50.

5 - Illustrations

You've posted some drawings. They have some character, showing that you have the basic aptitude to develop the skill if you applied yourself to regular practice. However, the proportions are too far off to attract much attention (except as a stylistic choice, which, I can tell, it is not).

This blog tends to break things down into their abstract fundamentals for analysis. I promised myself I wasn't going to do that here, but eh, we'll do just a bit.

To quote one of the publishing articles...

“People tend to buy the books that are already really popular,” Deahl says. “They look at the bestseller list to see what they want to buy and that reinforces this tiny amount of books at the top. It’s a very top-heavy system. The tricky thing in publishing is success begets success. But it’s really hard to create that spark.”

Let's stop to think about this.

a. Banter - Fame

There is one layer to this that you can't do much of anything about, which is that people will watch the same shows their friends watch in order to have something to talk about with their friends.

b. Investment - Background

However, there is another layer over which you have more influence. It's very easy to make a quick judgment of a movie based on its visuals, or a short trailer. It's also relatively easy to judge short songs, since they're only a few minutes long (but I don't find myself doing this often).

In order to judge a book, you have to read the text and process it. You can't make a snap judgment off a single picture, because you have to read the text first to produce the mental picture.

This website does have viral text posts, but they're like...

You seem to have fundamentally misunderstood me, Anon.  Go read all 5,640 posts again.

Some of these posts can get a bit long, but it's usually a back-and-forth where each individual post is short. Often, they'll mix in images, or memes.

People supposedly read at 200 words per minute. Based on that estimate, this blog's most viral post of all time can be read in 5 seconds. That's about the same amount of time someone would spend looking at a jpeg.

That doesn't mean people don't enjoy effortposts. They will follow a blog upon encountering a good effortpost! They just don't like or reblog them.

I think you already know this part, but for "acceptable" length for reblogging, it's usually best to keep it under one "Tumblr page," meaning around one screen length on desktop, or around 200-300 words. I've talked about this part before, but if the reader can see the end of the post, it feels like less of an investment to read the post, and reblogging it won't fill up a friend's Tumblr dash.

Obviously that's tough for long-form fiction, because it has to load more context about the characters in order to establish the stakes. (Unless it's fan fiction, where the audience already knows the characters.)

c. Investment - Strategy

As you know, this blog will sometimes post political cartoons and other illustrations as part of its general stream of content.

The obvious strategy is just to have some nice-looking character images or images of scenes from the story. It can be "read" faster, so it's more shareable.

I think that strategy suffers from a weakness in that it's easy to just look at the image and disregard the text. This would reduce your fiction blog to an art blog - and it is not an art blog.

Therefore, I would like to gently suggest - and keep in mind, I do not have any published novels - a different potential approach. This proposal is speculative, and this technique is not widely used.

Do you know that famous Rockwell painting, Breaking Home Ties? Rockwell is a master of telling a story with just a single still-frame painting.

Rockwell has to tell the whole story in one picture, because that's the medium he's got to work with. This limits how much story he can tell. As an author, you don't have to limit yourself to what can be told in just one image, because you have the text.

This strategy would involve a two-step maneuver.

First, the image at the top of the post communicates the essentials that the reader needs to know about the characters through the composition of the scene (so that they don't need to read background material), as well as various subtle details, while raising questions, also through the use of details/etc, to increase the viewer's curiosity.

Fortunately for the viewer, second, the questions raised by the image are answered in the text right below it.

The post would form an entry point into a network of related posts; tags for particular characters could be linked at the bottom, or links to other posts in the sequence.

Secondary characters would be ideal for this, because you can manipulate their scenarios/context/character to fit the short format, while your overall project will focus on the main characters and thus have a greater, long-term narrative investment for appropriately larger payoff.

As I wrote in my post on 'text wall memes,' people will read text in an image, and they'll even reblog it, but it's contextual. So again, this is speculative, but it should be feasible. It's a matter of creating the appropriate context.

d. Investment - AI Art

I don't think you should use AI-generated art. Yes, people will be able to tell, but the even bigger problem...

Compare this AI knockoff to Norman Rockwell's original Girl with Black Eye.

The expression is wrong. The pose is different. This is a completely different story from the one Rockwell was telling! The prompteur 'borrows' the right 25% of the image from Norman's original because he can't reproduce it. And what is that random white cloth on the left side of the image?

There is a significant reduction in the amount of intention in the image. Putting it back in involves working over the image, repeatedly, usually with inpainting, and often working against what's in the AI's training data, forcing it to pull from more and more improbable parts of the distribution (until eventually, there's no matching data in the training at all; you have to get out and draw it yourself).

I'm going to borrow a post of my own here from 2019.

This isn't oriented towards the strategy I've described, and it only got 21 notes, but note the teacup with steam and tea bag tag, the obscured flag in the background, and the Youtube-style video tracker on the bottom. The combination of the special effect, text that looks like a subtitle, and video tracker imply that the image is a screenshot from a streaming anime.

The character is casually (as indicated by the cup of tea) sitting at a computer desk (as indicated by the faintly sketched keyboard and hand position for a mouse). What's that flag in the background? It certainly doesn't belong to any extant country. (In fact, as the artist, I'll tell you - it's based on an O'Neill Cylinder.)

Obviously this art is very much just a sketch in quality terms. An AI rendering usually looks much fancier. However, an AI would not put that detail in.

e. Investment - Technical Skills

However, I will suggest the use of software if you go this route. (Or the hiring of an artist, but that could get expensive.)

Your issue is with proportions. Lots of people have trouble with proportions. (You also have trouble with hands. Lots of people have trouble with hands.)

One way to deal with this is to just train. You'd be surprised at how fast you improve if you draw from realistic sources such as photographs an hour a day for a year, even if it's just a quick sketch. You probably aren't willing to do so. You have other things to worry about, including writing.

However, you could use posing software. You could save the proportions of several characters and position them throughout the scene, as well as having a grid for the ground and potentially other props to help with positioning of items like lamp posts or the edges of buildings. (I've experimented with posing software a bit myself.)

Dan Shive (of El Goonish Shive) does not use posing software as far as I know, but he has used 3D software. Although his style is cartoonish, one thing people like about him is that he does put effort in at improvement, and the quality of his work has improved substantially. (That was actually the inspiration for the second part of the "in 2028, Hollywood runs out of ideas and adapts El Goonish Shive" post.)

6 - Interaction

Though shorter posts tend to go more viral, I find that posts which someone can reblog and share their opinion tend to show up a lot in my top posts (as long as they're only about one tumblr page long). The MOON PRISON poll is a good example of something that's approachable and neutral, but fits heavily with the themes of my blog, but other posts may take a political position that invites disagreement, resulting in discourse, and get reblogged that way. (You may also remember the silly Swift Pill poll.)

I don't recommend courting disagreement on purpose. Not only is this bad for the social environment, but it tends to make people go crazy.

7 - Search

I think you've probably noticed some of this already and are working with it (posting short excerpts, initial art). Most of this is, again, speculative. This is all just information for your consideration.

Writing a good book is the first problem. Getting the readers who would enjoy the book to find it in such a noisy environment is the second problem. I think you can do it, but if your trajectory isn't currently looking as good as you want (e.g. # followers on your story's sideblog), I would recommend expanding your strategy so that you're in a good position when the book itself is ready to launch.

[thefirstknife]

Something I've been thinking a lot about has been the TFS Collector's Edition book. Yeah, it's not out yet and all, however. On the preview for it on the store, you can see two pages. And the full text is readable if you zoom in and I transcribed it in full and I've been losing my mind about it for a while now.

So first and foremost, there's two books of some kind. I'm not sure what the one with signatures and symbols is: it's called "Collectio Autographorum" which would be a collection of autographs:

That's not the one I want to talk about. I want to talk about the other one, which is given a description on the TFS store page:

As the final confrontation with the Witness draws near, Eido scours the solar system looking for clues, messages, and intel on the origins of the Witness to share with Guardians. During her travels, she finds a gift to honor your service—a Light to accompany the Darkness.

It's a text from Eido! The book is called "Entelechy" and here's the two pages visible on the store:

I'll put the whole transcript under read more, but before that let me describe what the text is about because it's fascinating.

The left page starts mid-text so a lot of the context is lost. It's seemingly a conversation between two unidentified people that are designated only with a random string of letters and numbers: one is "RS6243199" and the other is "HNW047622." Several lines include uncertain translations. The two discuss the concept of the final shape.

The right page, the one in blue, is text from Eido. The first section features footnotes about parts of the text that we can't see. All three footnotes refer to something that's not visible on the preview. It includes Eido's notes about the way these two individuals talk about the final shape, Eido's confusion about what the Consensus is and finally a note about some sort of "computational assistant" that shares a naming pattern with Vex minds.

Eido continues by talking about some sort of "Scribe Archive" that might be referring to the conversation of the two unidentified individuals she's analysing (this archive is also referenced in the first footnote). She says she followed crumbs of data to a databank from a "Rainship" (ship from the House of Rain) that originally crashed on Mercury. Saint and Osiris help her get this information and the trio talks about Mercury; how it used to be a garden world, how the sun never sets there and how Eido is eager for Mercury to be returned from the Witness' grasp so that she may visit.

We don't know the timeline of this of course so we have no clue when this conversation is happening and therefore we can't say what's up with Mercury and its possible return. The only thing I'm mildly sure of is that this conversation is probably taking place around the same time period we're in now; Eido is currently travelling and investigating things in order to help prepare us for the fight in TFS. It's certainly happening after Ahsa's reveal about the Witness because down in the text Eido identifies the individuals in the text as ... members of the Witness's species. Its precursors. It's her speculation and leads her to believe it's the first ever mention of the concept of the final shape, as discussed by the people that would later turn themselves into the Witness.

Very interesting! Most of all what's interesting is the implication that Eido somehow found records of a communication log from literally the most ancient of times and the possibility that this log was being kept on an Eliksni ship that crashed on Mercury (or at least that this ship had some sort of a code to crack this communication's log; it's not very clear because again, we're missing quite a lot of context). It's an interesting possibility! And of course, a really intriguing look into what the Witness' species was like and how they talked before they became the Witness. At least two of them!

Also I have no clue what the images on the left page are. It's incredibly hard to see even if you zoom in. Because of the mention of Vex minds and Mercury, my brain immediately tried to identify it as something Vex, especially because of the colouring as well, but I genuinely don't know. It could be anything.

Something to think about while we wait! I'm super excited to see more of the stuff on the Witness' species and the conversations between these two (perhaps more) individuals in the rest of the book.

Full text below:

Left page:

...Bountiful/Swarm] on their path to their great, fatal error. It did not stop the [Conquerors/Primacy/Sovereign] from using the gifts it granted for subjugation. Are we to accept that these, too, were meant to happen? If you reject the notion that destruction can be a final shape, how are we to accept that the Gardener allowed us to make such grievous mistakes? [RS6243199] Even after all these millennia, there is much we do not understand about the Gardener. Perhaps we will not understand until we have achieved the final shape for ourselves. [HNW047622] And when we have reached the final shape, will it all make sense? Will we all be able to live in a universe where people act, as they have always acter, for the self-evident good? Where evil does not exist because we do not allow it? Where all aligned without suffering or doubt? [RS6243199] This isn't like you, my friend. I am coming to see you. All will be well. TRANSCRIPTION ENDS

Analysis by Eido:

SCRIBE NOTES * The final shape is no longer described with a sensory semantic cluster (c.f. SCRIBE ARCHIVE X1-2-4A), but HNW and RS continue to use that structure to describe other concepts. Potentially reflective of semantic narrowing? ** Given the terminology, this Consensus might have been some sort of governing body, or a source of philosophical guidance. *** From this context, some sort of computational assistant? There appears to be some etymological overlap with the names of Vex Minds. Something to investigate later, perhaps! My cross-check for the identification code in SCRIBE ARCHIVE X1-2-4A proved quite fruitful. The trail of datacrumbs led me to a databank retrieved from a Rainship originally downed on Mercury! The Saint and Osiris were kind enough to share it with me, along with a pot of tea. Our conversation was most illuminating. I understand that Mercury was a scorched wasteland before the Great Machine's arrival. When it had finished, Humans could walk unprotected on its surface. What wonders the Great Machine can work! I can only hope that Mercury will return from the Witness's clutches, released as Titan was, so that I may see it for myself. I hear that, thanks to Sol engulfing its sky, one could study without pause... or at least until exhaustion proved greater than the desire to learn! Perhaps I could catch up on some light reading... In any case, the concept of the final shape has worn many faces. From your encounters with the Disciples of the Witness we know that they all had their own understanding of this concept – that they all saw what they wished to see in it. But this communications log, here, appears to predate all of them. If I am correct, and the parties communicating are among the Witness's precursors, then this may be the concept's original form. We can see in this log that HNW and RS, at least, were preoccupied with the concept of a higher purpose. They sought...

[salchat]

Dean-in-progress Part 1

I was major-league pissed off today (still am, really), because the Marsden (my hospital) is only communicating through a crappy app and not telling me what's happening!!! It's not as if I'm just trying to do my online shopping or book my car in for a service - this is my life-and-death health!! Anyway, I'm chemoing tomorrow and will get a chance to talk to them. Sigh.

But! There's always art, so I decided to do a lovely Dean picture and a detailed log of his progress - which you may or may not be interested in.

Look at this paper! What a great colour!

I don't usually go for the really bright ones, but let's see what I can do with this. Now I need to sort out a reference from the juicy collection I have handy. Oh look! This is nice:

What pastels to use, though? Hmm. I fancy going in pretty rough to begin with - lots of broad strokes and smudging with my finger. I'm going to sort out some purples and some browns. And a gold would be good. But I don't have a gold. Might have to get creative.

A gold eye pencil! I might not use it, but it's lovely and bright. And I might not use all of these pastels, but they're nice to have handy. I'm going to go with a dark purple to begin with.

Huh! Classic error! I've straightened it up. There's nowhere near enough angle on the shadow on his cheek, or the line of his mouth and chin or his eyebrow or his hair. People do this all the time in figure drawing - your eye wants to straighten things up - make them more vertical or horizontal than they are!

This is better. And I've smudged more of the shadows, because somehow it makes it easier to see in 3-D and understand the form more. There's a long way to go, though, and, as usual, his mouth is going to be a challenge. Because this isn't any mouth - this is Dean Winchester's mouth. (British Tumblrs - think M&S Advert!)

There are some things better here and some worse. My main two strategies are to copy abstract shapes or to try to draw the actual forms. These two strategies are pretty much opposites. When you copy abstract shapes, you don't think about what they are. You don't think 'this is a nose' or 'this is a mouth' because if you do your mind will make assumptions that aren't necessarily true. It's just the way our minds work - a kind of shorthand thinking. So, you switch off one type of understanding and you think exclusively of angle and proportion and shape as an abstract thing. But, when you draw the forms, you deliberately think about the features and what they are and what the shadows and shapes in front of you mean. So I'd be thinking, 'how does that shadow shape under his nose express the shape of his upper lip?' Because for me, it's not about copying photographically, it's about understanding and interpreting.

Here's the next one:

The mouth is better and I've moved the light on his eye, because it was too far to the right. Probably still is, actually. And there are all kinds of bad and wrong things going on with the lip-chin line. Hmm... And as for his hairline...

You'll probably struggle to pick out the changes in this one! But I've done a bit of work on his hairline and there are some changes to his lips. Oh, the challenges of Dean's lips! But they're so important.

So, this is progressing. And there's a lot of it that's okay. But it still has a long way to go and the most important thing isn't really there yet, as far as I'm concerned - it doesn't have enough Deanishness. It's not him. Not as much as it should be. But that's okay! Because eventually it wil be, to the best of my ability anyway!

[queeraliensposts]

Right now I could log into Netflix and watch Call Me By Your Name, a film about a 24-year-old white man fucking 17-year-old white boy in 1980s white Italy that was based on a book written by a man that admitted to being attracted to 12-year-old girls.

I looked for Aristotle and Dante: Discover The Secrets Of The Universe, a film about two Mexican teenage boys who fall in love in 1980s El Paso, yet I couldn't find it anywhere, hell I didn't even know about it till I saw the poster when I went to watch Blue Beetle, and literally two days later there weren't any shows times, and it's not in ANY streaming service (that I know or let alone have)

If this isn't indicative of blatant racism I don't know what is. As a queer Latino trans man, I think it's time we support media that is CENTERED around queer latine stories, especially those living in communities with a high latine population cause IDK but as someone who grew up near the border I'm kinda tired of the whole "only mexican kid in class trope", and more often than not that trope is followed by "the white love interest that helps me accept myself and loves me despite my ethnicity" which is just white savior shit.

[faelune-home]

FFXIVWrite 2023 #29: Contravention

(A/n: I did have to pull more from the synonyms for this word, leaning more on frustration and obstruction than the original word, but I managed to get one more Yuri based ficlet here, meeting another scion~. Depending on the next prompt, I can either cap this off with her meeting the twins, or it'll be a cliffhanger for a piece of writing outside the month.

But I've appreciated that I've been able to do so much with fleshing out Yuri here, even being based in post-Endwalker. It's been fun to expand her character in this way with the new lore I have for her and seeing how she interacts with everyone else. Left a hint in case I could feature Yuri into the Twelve raid story, but I'll have to see how it goes in 6.5.

Word count: 1264)

The levels of red tape involved in getting a single book was ridiculous.

“I know you can’t let me in, I’m not even saying I could go and collect it myself, I’m saying you or one of these mammet things can go and get it,” Yuri huffed, words clipped as she tried to keep her calm against the librarian at the desk.

“I’m sorry, but we need the archon present to authorise entry to the archives. Verbal permission via linkpearl can’t be verified,” the librarian said, at least trying to look apologetic.

G’raha was out in Aldenard on a personal errand, however he’d called back asking for a few books for what he was working on, even if just to have Yuri relay the information back via linkpearl. Most of them were available on the public floors, however one was apparently logged in to private archives reserved only for archon access.

“What about if I get Krile to come and collect it?” Yuri tried.

“I’m afraid that wouldn’t suffice. While Miss Baldesion has special access to certain non-public sections due to her organisation and the research they do, she still wouldn’t be allowed into the archive in question since she isn’t an archon. I’m sorry.” Yuri’s hands balled up tight as she fought against the urge to scream, the note paper in her hand with the books she needed getting crumpled up as well.

“May I collect it on her behalf? I require entry to the archives for some of my own research as well.” Yuri spun around at the new voice, surprised at whoever seemed to be willing to help her.

She’d met Y’shtola briefly while the woman was passing through the Annex, in a chat with G’raha about some manner of travel information from what little Yuri could understand. As with most of these “former Scions” - a term she was beginning to think was more for appearances than reality - Y’shtola had come and gone as quickly as she’d appeared, off with her own work to keep her busy, so yuri really didn’t have a full read of the woman beyond what Fhara had told her.

Which was admittedly sparse, even Fhara had to admit.

“She’s very stern and focused. Less for joking around, really.”

“I would appreciate that, thank you so much,” Yuri said, pushing the memory aside and bowing deeply. Y’shtola simply offered a polite nod and a smile in response.

“I’ll not be long collecting my own things. Please wait for me here,” she said, turning to the little worker mammet waiting beside her and marching off with it.

Yuri picked up the book pile she’d already collected and laid on the main desk while she’d been trying to get help from the service, and slumped herself in a chair near the railing. The long drop deeper into the earth always unnerved and fascinated her in equal measure, the sight of busy students and researchers milling about contrasting against the lurch in her stomach at just her far down it all went.

She just had to wait. She opened a book on top of the pile and started sifting through it to find what G’raha needed.

~~

She’d mostly gotten lost deep into the second book, partially baffled by the heavy jargon and terminology that made her reread several paragraphs a few times but also fascinated by the subject matter on its own, when footsteps caught her attention and jolted her from her reading. Y’shtola had a small bundle of books under her arm and was already taking one to hand over to Yuri.

“My apologies for the wait. I had to have the mammet deployed to find a misplaced book,” Y’shtola said, only the slightest tail lash to show her frustration.

“I didn’t even notice the time. I just went on with reading up on what G’raha needed. I may have gotten a bit invested in this one,” Yuri replied, holding up her open book. Y’shtola’s clouded eyes skimmed the page, and then down the spines of the pile on Yuri’s lap.

“Hmm, old religious folklore and history, and the gods through the eras,” she pondered, “Our Eorzean fables have caught your attention then?” They began walking together, side by side.

“A little bit. It is still mostly for G’raha’s benefit…”

“Still, better to nurture that curiosity. Learned information is always new to someone out there, whether a growing child or different cultures coming into contact. If you wish to know more, mayhap G’raha would permit you to join him on his expedition?”

“I wouldn’t wish to impose,” Yuri shook her head, shivers going through her as they passed the threshold for the library into the outdoors, the snow beginning to fall gently.

“It’s never imposing. Especially with the nature of this endeavour he and Fhara are undertaking, from what I’ve gathered about it.” Yuri didn’t respond, only a slight grimace as she seemed to think about it. Curiosity made her want to say yes, but the desire not to overstretch herself while she’s still new to the Students held her back.

“Do consider it. Opportunities don’t just arrive to you without help. Even your father had to broach the topic of your joining to Krile and G’raha,” Y’shtola said.

“I will…” Non-committal, but better than nothing. They continued along in comfortable silence, along the path and into the Annex. Krile was in the main lobby, chatting with Ojika upon their arrival.

“Ah, welcome back. And good to see you, Y’shtola,” she greeted them, “You managed to get those books for G’raha, I see.”

“With some difficulty for one,” Yuri grumbled, “I’m glad Y’shtola showed up to help.” upon Krile’s confused expression, a sly smile crossed Y’shtola’s face.

“I don’t believe he realised one of his requested books wouldn’t be attainable for someone that wasn’t a qualified archon.” The silent shakes of her shoulder and Yuri’s frustrated grimace made Krile sigh, slumping forward.

“Oh dear. I’ll have to let him know for future, though it is difficult to verify these things while out in the field. Especially if things get shuffled without warning, or maybe even misplaced.”

“I’m rather surprised he didn’t whisper his little levitation enchantment over his linkpearl just to sneak you in. Or even an invisibility spell at that,��� Y’shtola hummed, eyes still sparkling. At that, Krile broke into a smile.

“I can only assume he’s forgotten or realised he couldn’t get away with it a second time, even by proxy through another person,” she said, amusement peeking in her face.

Yuri could only look between them in confusion, clearly recognising it was a shared memory for them both but uncertain how to broach asking for details. Beginning to think she should shuffle off and continue her requested work, Krile glanced at her and said, “I do believe we’ll need to enlighten Yuri as to this little story. Though I daresay it may colour her perception of G’raha.”

“Far be it from me to dismiss his efforts and achievements, but he could certainly manage that on his own eventually,” Y’shtola said, shaking her head, “But better you share the tale than I. You no doubt have more stories to regale anyway.” Krile’s little smirk grew wider.

“Oh I do. Come now, we’d be better settling down if we’re going to be sharing tales. Ojika, would you be a dear and prepare us some tea?” he nodded, hopping off his chair and head off. The ladies headed for the main hall, Yuri being guided with chatter building on either side of her, curiosity growing equal to her confusion.

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[miss-nerd-alert]

My thoughts on Last Voyage of the Demeter:

In short, it was an excellently made film and a wonderful adaptation of one of my favorite books. I don’t normally enjoy horror movies, but I was genuinely impressed, even while scared out of my mind. This movie is an homage to not just the original story, but to previous incarnations of one of pop culture’s most iconic characters. If you’re a fan of good horror films, Bram Stoker’s original novel, or even just good movies, I highly recommend you give this one a watch.

More in-depth musings under the cut for both spoilers and mention of horror movie violence.

Dracula’s design and direction were excellent; a great blend of Nosferatu and Bela Lugosi. While the actual character design more closely resembles Nosferatu with the bald head, pointed ears, and mouthful of sharp teeth, this is by no means a near-mindless beast. The rare times you get a proper look at his face there’s a clear and obvious intelligence to him. He’s a hunter toying with his prey, and he visibly enjoys playing with his food. Dracula is well and truly inhuman, however, complete with batlike wings that are used to mimic the form and function of Bela Lugosi’s iconic cape. One particular moment that squicked me personally was when the boy Toby was locked in the cabin with him. At first you don’t even realize he’s there, since he’s curled into a ball to make himself as small as possible. But then he stands, calm and cool as you please, and the way he does so is as far from natural as you can get. It’s like watching a corpse jump up and dance. They also did a good job at selling the hunger, especially when he makes his first kill; he looks gaunt and emaciated, and acts almost desperate, like he’s faint from hunger as he lured in his prey so he can go for the kill.

I liked the character Anna quite a bit. It makes sense that he’d bring someone along with him to keep fed, especially once the characters realize the only reason he hasn’t just killed them all by now is because he needs them to manage the ship and last until they actually make it to England. Anna’s the only character who has any idea what they’re dealing with, since she grew up in the shadow of Dracula’s castle, but she doesn’t know everything. She’s not made some badass vampire hunter thanks to what she knows, but she remains a capable and proactive character regardless. Would’ve loved to get more of her thoughts on her village selling her to the monster they fear, but her hatred of Dracula himself is a good start.

Clemens was also a character I enjoyed quite a bit. I had expected him to mention racial prejudice, but it wasn’t just empty lip service like so many other films have done. The character’s experiences fueled his desire to understand the world, and his drive to not let prejudice defeat him was admirable. He was also a wonderfully gentle character, and his interactions with Anna and Toby were so genuinely sweet and heartwarming.

Liam Cunningham was a fantastic casting choice for Captain Elliot. He perfectly encapsulated the nobility of the captain from the original novel, even with as little as we see of the character in the book. Hearing the early log entries spoken verbatim in the film was a genuine delight. My only criticism comes from very late in the film, where Elliot is denied his most iconic line from the novel. We still get the spirit of it when he says he’ll steer the ship out to sea to ensure Dracula can’t escape, but hearing such a wonderful actor actually say “I am captain, and I must not leave my ship” would’ve been the most brilliant thing. I am also disappointed that they changed the context of the captain being tied to the wheel; making it Dracula showing off instead of a doomed man desperately doing what little he can to preserve his honor and soul was honestly such a downgrade, and a disservice to the character of Captain Elliot.

True to the original text, the horror is more in the buildup than in the violence itself, though there’s still plenty of the latter. Stefan Kapičić legit deserves an award for his performance in this movie, I’ve never been so scared in my life. The image of his bloodied and battered face, empty eyes staring blankly just before he attacks Clemons still haunts me, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget the terror of his scene with Toby.

[kyemeruthie]

A long layover

12 hours. Arriving during the wee hours of the morning. From a delayed flight. Good decision to get a room at the airport's capsule hotel.

I realized a number of things.

One, that I'm willing to spend extra bucks for comfort.

Five years ago, at the same airport, I lugged it out at the benches and public restroom, if only to save at least a thousand pesos or so for renting an overnight room. I was so exhausted that time, but hey, that's part of the backpacking charm.

Fast forward today, I thought about staying at the carpeted free lounge areas. But I'd arrive at three in the morning and I'd need to wait until three in the afternoon before I go to my end destination. So before leaving Manila, I booked that last capsule room.

The flight was delayed, but I am so happy to sleep with fluffy pillows. No hassle to hug my essentials because I am in a private room. It was small for sure, something you'd expect in a capsule. I get to shower nicely come sunrise. This is good.

Two, why can't we have a nice airport in Manila?

I've been at KLIA2 a number of times now, majority of which have been for transit. It never disappointed me -- lounges are spacious, you'd still be dignified to sleep or stay for some time because there are different kinds of chair to sit on, a working charging station, and clean restrooms with shower options. The duty free shops are a bonus, the food choices are good. Wifi is 24hrs! Wow. The longest I'd get in Manila is three hours, if it's a good time; an hour if we're at peak periods.

I'd know that it's also commuter-friendly because the airport trains are connected to the city. There's also a shuttle that would take you to the other terminal. You would never mind walking because the walkalators are working and the pathways could accommodate a large number of pedestrians.

In general, NAIA is definitely lagging behind its SEA counterparts. We need to seriously work on how we'd boost ground support and better airport service. Gahdd, we even had the audacity to say "we give the world our best," but the very gateway to our country does not live up to the hero it was named after. And all we're thinking about is changing it's name.

Three, aisle seats are equally good.

As a forever window seater because of the view and isolation from the larger crowd, I have a renewed appreciation for aisle seats. It's roomier, easier to stretch for a rather long flight, and faster to receive food service + retrieving bags. The mask makes it ok for me to sleep because I won't worry too much about my mouth agape. Hahaha! It could also be that the people sitting near me are not as nosy as the previous ones I experienced. No middle seat still. I don't know anyone who likes middle seats.

Logging these thoughts for now. I'd be on a long journey for almost a month. This should be fun, especially because I'm out of loop from work most of the time. Excited for this coming week's conference and then that long vacation in Down Under with my parents. Tomorrow, I'm off to visit the highest mountain in Thailand. I hope my legs won't fail me. Hahaha!

Until the next post from somewhere! :)

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Introduction:

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