#and then on an on and on it was just a web of vaguely interconnected dudes in a vaguely interconnected world

[bulletbilltime]

Now that the initial frustration has faded a bit, I'm left with the same indifference I felt towards DE that I felt before any of the controversy reared up tbh. Like the moment I thought about it for 2 seconds, I just knew bringing back Max was going to be a terrible move, so I never really got all that hyped up for it.

I'll just be here planning my stupid crossover AUs and playing Paper Mario Tower of Trials waiting to see if it goes on a solid sale in December.

[meraki-sunset]

so your crow strider au gave me inspiration for my own au, but i've built up the idea in my brain so much that now im scared to try to put it to paper (oops) did you ever deal with this while making crow strider? (and if you did, how you got over it would be much appreciated thanks fhdjks) also your art is cool :]

Hi, sure, i encountered a few blocks when writing CSAU and other projects. I think my method comes down to a couple rules

You need to know how the story ends from the start, so everything in the story leads to the end. Things can change about the contents of the story as you write it and you change your mind about the events that will transpire in it, but you need an end goal you can build your story towards. Most importantly, this is what allows you to add foreshadowing for said ending and structure the narrative in a clear direction. Otherwise, you might come up with a cool ending too late and regret some choices from past chapters that now don’t help this new ending you want

On that same note (and i’ll proceed to copy and paste from an old post) You need to have a Word document with a rough timeline of the events from start to finish. You need to know how it ends from the beginning and how they get there. It can be really, really vague, but it has to be there. It can go like

. They start the game, the trolls bother them.

.both games go to hell

.scratch

.trip, develop relationships

.new set of kids/teen drama

.old kids they get there

.to hell again

.John retcons everything

.new timeline

.they win

And that's homestuck simplified, Those are your Acts. With them, you will know where you're going and if you need to change something earlier. Everything will be constantly up to change of course, but you will be going from point A to point Z more easily.

From there, you go to every point in that list and create a Word document for all of them. I have them in different folders to have every act separated and in order.

A folder for each Doc for every Act, Numbered, and in each one make more lists like that one telling what happens, for example

WordDoc1 - ACT 1 "They start the game, the trolls bother them"=

.John needs to get his game

.introduce Rose

.introduce the trolls on pester chats

. John gets the game

.introduce Dave

.etc

And those are your chapters. Now you can know the extent of what you want to do and if it makes any sense.

I addition to that, every Folder can contain not only the Word document for the Act but also relevant texts and art that are connected to the Act, so evey folder is all about that specific act and any inspiration for it.

Another piece of advice I can give you is to hint at anything important. That's a rule of comedy; actually, the comedian usually closes the show with something related to the first things they said.

That works for everything, and makes people go, "Oh the thing! The meaningless thing they said earlier, it was a clue all along!"

Interconnect it like a web, and that web will stop the story from falling

Homestuck is so ridiculously interconnected that you lose track of the stuff and objects that repeat that have no way to be where they got to be, songs and people and events that are too similar to not be connected but nobody addresses, things like that make it feel like you're dealing with a universe and not just a line of events.

3. Yet another thing, it's something I'm still trying to assimilate, and is that less is more, sometimes things don't need to be said, specialy not bluntly, and an expression, a gesture, a flinch can summarize them. Backgrounds can be reduced, and ideas can be conveyed.

one example is, In homestuck, it's never said that Dave was raised with lack of food. He never sais it, but it's shown in how happy he was to find a warm bottle of juice in his closet, how there is only weapons on the kitchen and no sign of food, how he later sais he never learned what the purpose of a fridge was until he saw it on tv. If someone is lacking something, don't have them say, "i grew up without X thing" show what filled that space in the absence of X thing.

Instead of some character saying, "My dad was never there for christmas" have them say how they thrited for presents at the local goodwill, payed with their lawn mowing money and put the presents under the tree themselves for their siblings and mom.

4. Something that I always have in mind when writing the dialogs and sketching the scenes, is

"I have an idea; what's the easiest way for someone to get the idea, to get the feelings i want to transmit from the idea?" I made the art something I could handle drawing hundreds of times, simplified the coloring, the aspect symbols, the way I draw backgrounds, the way I write dialogs, etc.

That will save you time and work and could prevent you from getting stuck with a project too big to handle

5. This is the most important one: The first draft’s only purpose is to exist.

Writing is like playing darts sometimes; you only get closer to hitting the center by missing it and learning what not to do. That’s an actual rule on animation and a motto on the Disney office. “Get it wrong as quick as you can,” because when you learn what you’re doing wrong is when you start learnign what doing it right means.

If it helps, title your first draft “the dumb version,” because that’s what it is—the version to get the idea out of your head, and then you built over it.

On the same note, once you write "the dumb version" don’t correct it. Rewrite it. It’s annoying, I know, i know, but fixing and fixing a text only carries the mistakes from the first draft, and everything looks kind of disconnected, because it ends up being a Frankenstein text of all the versions of the story mixed together.

This also applies to art; that’s how I handle both writing and drawing; if it’s not working, hold onto the core idea, new page, restart.

Rewriting it puts it in perspective; it feels like a text of its own, with a clear intent in mind.

I think that’s all I have. Making a story is mostly about managing your strengths and weaknesses, organizing and not being scared of it not being perfect.

Hope this helps.

[ramlightly]

I'm been thinking too much about Temptations (Father Basil) and Mad Dog (Malady/Lapis) worlds have evolved to be sort of opposites, and I can't tell if that's a problem or not.

The world of Father Basil is very interconnected, a web of relationships and places and themes that ultimately centers of Father Basil and his journey.

Maybe because, ultimately, Hell is a prison and everyone there is stuck with each other. Everyone is trapped in roles, relationships, sometimes physical places, and this forces characters to have some kind of connection to each other.

But also a big element of the world building (and this is maybe why I find it easy to interconnect) is that the world is very structured, building on common ideas about the circles of Hell and such. Here's the Garden, it is my take on the concepts of lust and hendonism,. Really easy to layer ideas and themes there.

But ultimately, the story is very focused on Father Basil and his journey. Everything is tied to that.

Meanwhile, there is a lot more of a sprawling vagueness to world of Mad Dog. Dark fantasy, with funky fairytale elements, but is far less structured compared to Hell. I don't even have a name for the world. I can't tell if this bad thing or not. When I think about the setting and it's characters, it's more for it's corners and individual places rather than full picture.

Perhaps that's more suited to a story where Malady and Lapis going off to have adventures in, stumbling upon these weird corners and places and then moving on. There are characters that they know and have connections to, but I feel less of need to tie them together. It feels like I could hop to another character and have a whole seperate set of adventures with them.

And that's kind of exciting! But also daunting. Not to compare myself or work to it, but it reminds me of an element I like about the discworld series. Where you can follow different groups and protagonists and get new perspectives/stories. Maybe Mad Dog's setting is just going to be one I slowly build, one story at a time. Or maybe I'm being lazy.

These are a lot of thoughts and feelings about porn universes and writing but ah well haha.

[orcatnip]

Wrote a thing for stp...

My way of understanding the point of Slay the Princess 😸, the message Shifty was trying to communicate in our confrontation with her.

There are billions upon trillions upon infinite dense points of consciousness across the vague, sloshing soup that is existence. In an ordinary world, there are no gods. Just a vast web of conflict. This world was once ordinary, but now it isn't.

Someone managed to grab the backdrop of existence, condense it into millions of points of interconnected conciousness, then rip it raggedly in two. Those were the rules of existence.

So many fine points means constant conquering and submission. Something is always conquering another, until there are many fine points, until some points get finer, until both happens. It is a moving, writhing mass of everything. Blinding points and white storms and grey seas and black vacuums.

Periodically, there slowly grows a great brightening, and then very quickly, a darkness. And then, the light grows again. In the whispered truths of all the invisible connected lines, it passes in recognizable beats. It is agony, and it is bliss.

But the fine points blink out from moment to moment. They burn brightly and die brightly, too quickly to see the rising and falling of cosmic waves.

You can't blame them. With fear, they exist longer than a moment. But, with fear, they want to exist longer than moments.

"But don't you see?" The invisible whispers, the rules of existence, usher. "You are a droplet in a wave. You are immortal, in the way that your particles scatter and become part of millions of other, new fine points. You will not be destroyed. You will only be conquered."

"I will not remember!" They cry.

"You are too dense to remember. The vast grey will remember. The shifting quiet will remember."

"But I want to exist how I am!"

"You exist as you are because the particles that make your point so bright had conquered and been conquered forever before now."

But the point is gone. Terror is a constant in this storm and sea and vacuum of conflict. But so is longing. And rivalry. And submission. And betrayal. And consumption. And devotion. And skepticism. And pain. And unfamiliarity.

But if you look at it from afar, if you feel the crashing waves of infinity, if you see the combined heartbeat rattling across of existence, you will feel love.

[acertainmoshke]

Emerald Outpost: revamped

I had like 6 things to do today, so of course I managed to finish a vague outline of this instead. But now I'm ready to start writing because I think this one will do better without a zero draft!

First, a quick rundown of characters:

Minerva: captain/pilot, human

Esther: weapons/translator, human

Nasir: mechanic, idner (looks like a bipedal pangolin)

Euyla: logistics, oi (tall and purple with 4 eyes)

Jorge: medic, human

Va'al: software engineer, blerbubolb (semi-aquatic, has webbed hands and flippers for feet)

Shira: Esther's daughter (2), human

Lu'i: Va'al's child (equivalent of 5), blerbubolb

Phuong: no job, human

Basic version of the outline (parts redacted as spoilers)

Intro (ch. 1)

Current crew is just Minerva, Esther, Nasir, and Euyla; they just lost their software guy in an accident and need to replace him and find a medic to prevent future deaths

Finding people to work for them is part of Euyla's job

She did successfully find two candidates: Jorge, who was the most competent medic she could find willing to work for a smuggling ship, and Va'al, who has an actual degree and is WAY overqualified, and also the only available software person

Minerva meets them both and warily agrees

Otherwise this chapter is basically getting to know the crew and the world

There's a picnic

Journey Leg 1 (ch. 2-5)

the first job they take is pretty standard, to a city planet called Oplin that is the capital of {someone's} space

Space is split up into patchwork claimed or neutral territories; some people have treaties, and different species live in all of it, as there are rules for immigration, but the governments are very much separate entities

on the way, they get to know their new crewmates

Jorge gets on with everyone wonderfully

Va'al is more closed off and distant, sometimes cold and sometimes actually mean

xe is very good at xir job, though, and writes them an entirely new program to run the ship better and actually interconnect the currently modular systems

The trip only takes a few days, the handoff goes smoothly, and they take a few days off before heading back

which is when {redacted} happens, but they don't really register it as an issue yet

Journey Leg 2 (ch. 6-9)

They would normally head back to Emerald Outpost as a sort of home base, but Euyla found them a quick, intriguing job they can do right now

It's to a human settlement they've never heard of, which is very odd because as far as they know this sector includes 3 settlements uninhabitable to other species, 2 city-ships, and otherwise just humans living alongside other species in cities like normal people. Earth is far away, and if you leave it you really have to choose to immigrate

So, curious, they take the job without many questions and go several days out of their way to complete it

There's some interpersonal drama on the way

They get there, and the settlement is...strange. Rugged, but not in a techno-avoidant way. There's weird gaps in what they do or don't have, and it turns out the alien tech they're delivering is illegal there despite being fairly standard stuff (not ALL their jobs are super illegal, some just involve avoiding customs)

They see a strange mix of smuggled tech there, which are innocuous alone but together add up to {redacted}

And then a couple of them get caught and arrested, so they have to pause for a jailbreak and get out quickly, with explosions

Journey Leg 3 (ch. 10-13)

Return to Emerald Outpost without getting paid, but they need a break

Euyla goes to her usual contacts and finds them the easiest, most standard contract she can

It's a little farther out this time, away from the main shipping lanes

A bit more interpersonal drama on the way

It's a "rural" planet in a different territory of space, varied aliens but no human residents

The transaction goes off normally, but something about the vibes is wrong

no one is in a good mood when they leave and it's a rough trip back

Journey Leg 4 (ch. 14-17)

Their plan is to take a proper break, but one of the contacts reaches out with a very urgent, very high-paying job. They could use the monetary boost, so they decide to take one more trip and then a lot of time off

They start to have the usual interpersonal drama--none of this is terrible drama, they do generally get along, just the usual things that happen when one is cooped up for a long time in a small space--but it's cut short by a distress signal

They come across a small escape ship packed with people--mostly, but not all humans--having fled a disaster on the nearest city-ship

They rescue them of course, even though they really don't have the space or food for it

It turns out the entire city-ship (like 30,000 people) was evacuated because of an extremely unlikely disaster (a few thousand died but most made it), and then their escape ship was attacked for no clear reason. They don't know about the other escape ships

It's closer to keep going to finish their job than go back, so they decide to hang on for a couple days and drop them off on arrival

It's a crowded, hectic few days but also when Esther meets Phuong and they form a connection

They're late to their delivery, which is the only reason they notice {redacted}

Actually, the rest of this section is redacted, sorry

Journey Leg 5 (ch. 18-21)

Initially they're going to go back to Emerald Outpost and contemplate retirement (not really, though, or at least not for long)

But then they find out the truth about {redacted}, who tells them {redacted}, and they can hardly just go to the authorities, so they have to look into it themselves

Or at least do recon so the authorities take them seriously

Because yes, they're loose about laws but not when it involves things that will get thousands of people killed and could change the politics of the entire sector

The entire climax is redacted except that Esther gets non-fatally shot and also gets to kiss Phuong, who stayed on the ship when the other refugees left

I don't want to give much away, but the general theme of the bad guys is eugenics because that's always a good evil to be fighting

Wrap-Up (ch. 22-23)

They were successful, but not completely

They finally go back to Emerald Outpost to take time off and reconsider their futures

All of their futures turn out to be together aboard their little ship, but hopefully with a bit less excitement in the future

Yes, this includes Phuong, who gets hired at this point

There's a reveal at the end to set up an issue in the sequel, but obviously I can't share it

If you actually read this whole thing thank you!!! And please do ask any questions about it!

Tagging @annothersummerofsleep and @daughterofheartshaven who are the bestest friends and actually wanted to hear about this (thank you)!

[newlycurioustyrant]

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[deafeningeagleking]

One of several characters existing in Reneverse of mine is a supervillain called Apocrypha, and some days I wish for a proper Apocrypha story so much I`d be willing to pay real money if I was not so afraid of internet transactions.

Be wary of the content under the cut. I dont know what of the said can be disturbed, but something probably would.

Dietrich Baumann is the last of the decaying, supposedly (formerly) aristocratic bloodline. Since young age he was brought up "as was proper for a noble man", which included heavyhanded insistence of his prime directive being advancement of Baumann lineage restoration, not in the meaning of "make heirs" but "make Baumanns great again"(the use of phrase deliberate).

Then he manifested superpowers: overwriting others minds with his own via touch. I have not established how exactly it happened, with the only caveat being of the manifestation being thoroughly irreplicable for the time being(all hail the Time Being!).

Initially secretly and then less and less so, Dietrich started working on polishing his own mind and skillset, to be copy-pasted arbitrary times over. For reasons beyond explanation, this caused major strife with his parents, even against the fact of his father(an outsider) having a dedicated contraband business, and mother(actual Baumann by blood) marrying him for that exactly.

And yet, when they died, the relations were warm enough that he was temporarily devastated.

Then he dove back into lessons with doubled fervor.

Eventually he acknowledged himself field-ready and founded a mercenary band consisting of "copies" of himself produced from kidnapped(ish) civilians. As was implied-slash-said, his upbring was borderline indoctrinational, so new Baumanns had fanatical devotion to the agenda of Baumanns. Income of money and fame brought new tutors, making himself yet more dangerous identity on the battlefield and out of it.

By the so-called "canon time", Apocrypha has a widespread web of Baumann cells interconnected by a converted largespan teleporter, allowing for trivial relocation of resources over the globe.

Apocrypha is present one of the major Reneverse super-superpowers, inevitably defying nigh any attempt at curbing him beyond temporarily pruning his network(called Classroom - or the local translation of the word - by the way) in any given location, and thus plays the role of someone - something - it is genuinely better for Rene to work around and with than against. His agents exist in most suprpising(and beneficial) places outside of only several borderline paranoid organisation(Rene`s one of them), some being converted even before teenagehood.

However, it should be noted, his voraciousness is finite. There exists a certain (admittedly vague) point after which more glory to the Baumann lineage is not worth the effort associated with the management. In the theoretical timeline where a)his powers could be passed on or replicated reliably b)there was an indefinite need for Baumanns to be continually applied to some problem(such as a war that potentially could span lifetimes), he would gladly accept Baumanns becoming an established solution to that problem.

Just because I could, Apocrypha is an extreme autosexual: every instance of him is attracted to every other, no matter the body. Yes, including age. No, he does not convert people based on attraction to them(no matter what rabid fic writers in-universe say). Yes, he runs eugenic rings in the background.

The one person that can genuinely delete Apocrypha`s presence by his own is Segador - whose value in that regard is his ability to absorb minds of those killed by him, and thus thoroughly compromise the entirety of organisation on most intimate level.

Even when not cheirotonia-ing, Apocrypha adores waging psychological warfare upon others. He is conversant in several major religions(including being able to cite relevant Bible passages by memory), overuses interjections and invokes Power Of Friendship as appropriate - causing untold mayhem by implication when someone expresses too close of a similarity on either of those points.

[mccdreamys-writes]

smiles for miles – 17. days of haze

sometimes i look in her eyes and that's where i find a glimpse of us. - Joji, Glimpse of Us

S E P T E M B E R   1 9 T H   2 0 1 1

In the haze of my mind, distant voices floated toward me like whispers carried on a gentle breeze. They were like echoes from another world, their origins elusive as they danced at the edges of my awareness.

Struggling to make sense of the voices, my thoughts became tangled in a web of confusion. Each attempt to grasp their meaning only seemed to push them further away, leaving me lost in a fog of uncertainty.

Then, amidst the jumble of sounds, a voice cut through the confusion like a beacon in the night. It was a voice I recognized immediately, stirring memories that lay dormant within me for too long.

"Alex," I whispered to myself, the sound of her name lingering on my lips like a whispered prayer to some distant force. Yet, even as I called out to her in my thoughts, doubts began to creep in, casting shadows of uncertainty over my perception.

Was she truly here, or was she merely a creation of my mind, a figment born from the depths of my imagination? The question lingered, haunting the corners of my consciousness like a ghost.

In the tangled maze of my thoughts, memories and fantasies intertwined, blurring the lines between reality and illusion. The uncertainty weighed heavy on me, casting a veil of doubt over the landscape of my mind.

Memories of past dreams, strange and vivid, lingered in my mind like echoes from a distant realm. Among them, one encounter stood out—the surreal journey where I faced the devil himself, a vision so vivid it felt almost real, yet too fantastical to believe.

But as I revisited these memories, doubts crept in like shadows creeping across a dimly lit room. Was it all just a creation of my imagination, a concoction born from the depths of my subconscious? The line between reality and illusion blurred, leaving me questioning the nature of my experiences.

In my contemplation, I found myself pondering the elusive boundary between dreams and reality. Were they truly separate realms, or were they interconnected, sharing threads that wove through the fabric of my existence? The questions swirled in my mind, like leaves caught in a whirlwind, as I searched for answers in the depths of my consciousness.

As I grappled with these deep questions about existence, a heavy sense of unease settled upon me, weighing down my thoughts like a suffocating blanket. I knew that once I opened my eyes, I would face the harsh truth of my solitude, confronted by the empty expanse of my room, as desolate as ever.

But then, there was also the possibility of waking up in my father's old shed, surrounded by the peculiar characters I'd encountered there—James and Ira. However, even as I entertained these potential realities, they seemed to blend and merge in my mind, their distinctions fading into a murky haze.

A profound sense of confusion washed over me, like being caught in the grip of a glitch that disrupted the very fabric of reality. My mind felt trapped in a relentless cycle, endlessly churning through fragments of thoughts and memories, each one disjointed and elusive, with no clear path forward.

With a cautious flutter, I slowly opened my heavy eyelids, unsure of what awaited me as I emerged from the depths of sleep. Through the haze of drowsiness, shapes began to form, gradually morphing into vague outlines of figures that seemed to linger just beyond the reach of my awareness.

Despite my best efforts to bring the scene into focus, a heavy sense of fatigue weighed me down, making clarity feel like an elusive dream. My eyelids, burdened by exhaustion, threatened to close once more, tempting me back into the comforting embrace of slumber.

Yet, amidst the fog of semi-consciousness, a sensation stirred within me—a gentle pressure against my hand, as if seeking connection in the dimly lit room. Another hand, warm and familiar, intertwined with mine, offering a sense of comfort and security in the midst of the uncertain haze.

Though my eyelids clung tightly shut, the touch stirred something deep within me, awakening memories that had long lain dormant. It was a touch that seemed to bridge the gap between past and present, evoking a sense of familiarity that resonated in the depths of my soul.

Summoning every ounce of determination, I fought against the heaviness that weighed upon my eyelids, urging them to relent and allow me to see. Gradually, as if under a spell, my eyelids relented, parting to reveal the dimly lit room that surrounded me.

Through the haze of sleep, a voice, soft yet unmistakably familiar, reached me, cutting through the fog of confusion that clouded my mind. "Hey, Smiles," it whispered, the words carrying a warmth and tenderness that enveloped me like a comforting embrace. In that moment, the fog began to lift, and clarity washed over me like a wave, bringing with it a sense of peace and understanding.

The recognition that Alex was actually there flooded through me like a rush of comfort, washing away the lingering uncertainties that had clouded my thoughts. It felt like a beam of light breaking through the darkness, a moment of clarity in the midst of confusion, reassuring me that I hadn't completely lost myself in the maze of my mind.

With cautious certainty, I felt the muscles around my mouth twitch, hinting at the emergence of a smile, however faint. It was a tiny spark of happiness amid the swirling doubts that clouded my mind. But even as I savored this brief connection, I remained acutely aware of the tenuous grasp I had on reality.

As if pulled by some invisible hand, my eyelids were yanked open by a blinding glare that sliced through the darkness like a bolt of lightning. The sudden onslaught stunned me, a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings crashing in its wake.

'Jesus,' I muttered to myself, a hint of irony lacing my thoughts. 'Are you serious? After just chatting with Lucifer?' It was a strange moment of dark humor amidst the chaos, a sardonic nod to the bizarre nature of my situation.

With a groan, I shut my eyes tight again, craving shelter from the overwhelming brightness threatening to swallow me whole. In the darkness, I found a brief sanctuary, a fleeting escape from the relentless assault on my senses.

Then, as suddenly as it had vanished, the light flooded back, casting a gentle radiance over my surroundings. Within the luminous haze, a familiar sound reached my ears—a laugh, airy and contagious, drifting from my right.

It was Alex's laughter, a melody I hadn't heard in what felt like ages. In that instant, uncertainty melted away, replaced by a comforting sense of closeness and familiarity.

"Alex," I murmured, my voice hoarse and feeble, the word slipping past my dry lips like a fragile breath. Amidst the fog of confusion clouding my mind, it was the only coherent thought.

It wasn't just my eyes that felt heavy; every part of me was weighed down by an oppressive fatigue, as if my entire being had been enveloped in a heavy blanket of exhaustion.

In the murky haze of my consciousness, her hand found mine, a source of comfort in the gloom threatening to swallow me whole. With delicate movements, she ran her fingers through my hair, each touch a gentle reminder of the bond we'd shared since childhood. It was a familiar gesture, bringing a sense of warmth and security even in the dimness.

She was pulling me back from the edge, urging me to emerge from the depths of unconsciousness into the uncertain realm of wakefulness. And somehow, against all odds, she succeeded.

"I'm here," her voice cut through the fog, a steady presence in the midst of confusion, grounding me in the here and now. In her words, I found a brief respite, a moment of clarity amid the swirling chaos of my mind.

A gentle smile curved my lips, a silent testament to the comfort I found in her company. In that fleeting moment, a profound realization dawned upon me—I was in love with her. It was a revelation that swept over me like a gentle breeze, calming the tumult within my soul.

'I love Alex,' the thought reverberated in my mind, a quiet admission that harmonized with the pulsing rhythm of my heart. It was a truth I had concealed for so long, buried beneath layers of hesitation and fear. But now, in the clarity of that moment, I embraced the depth of my feelings for her without reservation.

And then, like a distant echo from another time, I recalled the last words she had spoken before darkness claimed me—a tender declaration that had clung to the edges of my fading awareness, a fragile lifeline in the sea of darkness.

'I love you,' her voice had murmured, gentle yet unwavering, as I slipped into the abyss of unconsciousness. In those words, there was solace, a balm for the turmoil within me, but also a perplexing uncertainty. For while her love brought warmth to my soul, I grappled with the complexity of my own emotions, unsure of how to navigate the depths of my heart.

Even as I grappled with uncertainty, a glimmer of hope persisted within me, whispering that maybe, just maybe, this time it was real. The nagging question of my surroundings—was I in a shed?—briefly crossed my mind, but I pushed it aside, focusing instead on the reassuring touch of her hand and the soothing sound of her voice, pulling me back from the brink of darkness.

Yet, amidst the swirling doubts, a persistent sense of unease took root in the depths of my mind, like a shadow stubbornly lingering in the corners. It cast doubt upon my experiences, questioning whether what I felt and heard was genuine.

Perhaps, I mused, it was merely a longing so profound that it conjured illusions in my mind. Like a mirage in the desert, her presence might have been a figment of my desperate desire for companionship, woven from memories and fantasies to fill the void of loneliness.

I remembered the first time I caught a glimpse of her, like a fleeting shadow darting through the corridors of my mind. In the quiet recesses of solitude, I brushed it off as a trick of my weary imagination, grasping at illusions in the darkness of despair.

Why would she be here, in Alabama? The question echoed in my thoughts, unanswered and perplexing. She had no connections to this place, no reason to appear out of thin air. Yet, despite the logical doubts, the ghostly impression of her presence lingered, teasing me with its elusive nature.

It happened a few more times afterward, each encounter more elusive than the last. With every passing moment, I retreated deeper into skepticism, convincing myself it was nothing but a figment of my longing, a fanciful dream born from the depths of my yearning.

A single tear trickled down my cheek, tracing a silent path that echoed the storm of emotions raging within me. It carried with it a mix of feelings — was it sorrow for what might have been lost, or joy for the unexpected reunion with someone so dear?

The uncertainty of my feelings mirrored the confusion of my surroundings. Where was I, and why had she sought me out here? These questions lingered, casting doubt over the fragile hope budding in my heart.

Yet, through the haze of uncertainty, a gentle touch brushed my cheek, wiping away the tear with a tenderness that spoke volumes. In that brief moment, as her touch enveloped me in warmth and comfort, I felt a certainty that defied logic — it had to be her.

"I love you, Alex," the words slipped from my lips, carrying with them the weight of years of longing and dreams. It was a confession that echoed through the depths of my being, the culmination of a love that had endured through time's trials.

She was my constant, my anchor in every storm life had thrown my way. Her presence illuminated even the darkest corners of my existence, even when she hadn't actually been there for any of those storms. With those words, I hoped to convey the depth of my feelings, the devotion that had sustained me through every trial.

As I felt her draw closer, her breath brushing against my skin, a rush of emotions surged within me. Each beat of my heart echoed loudly, a testament to the intensity of my affection for her. It was a feeling I had suppressed for too long, now bursting forth with renewed vigor in her presence.

"I love you too, my beautiful girl," her whispered response was a melody to my ears, confirming a truth I had scarcely allowed myself to hope for. In that moment, surrounded by her warmth, I felt a sense of completeness wash over me, as if every piece of my being had finally found its rightful place.

Summoning every ounce of determination within me, I mustered the strength to pry open my heavy eyelids. It felt like an arduous task, a feat requiring Herculean effort, but the thought of glimpsing her face again fueled my resolve.

As my eyes slowly parted, they were met with a blur of tears that obscured my vision. Each droplet was a reflection of the tumultuous emotions raging within me. It was as though a dam had burst, unleashing a flood of feelings that had been suppressed for far too long.

In that moment of vulnerability, I came to understand that this outpouring of tears was an integral part of the journey. Each tear shed was a testament to the depth of my love for her, a reminder of the profound impact she had on my life. Despite the blurred vision, my heart remained steadfast, illuminated by the radiant glow of her affection.

[mitigatedai]

Summarizing 'The Big One'

Speaking of the mitigatedchaos fantasy country, which we will refer to as ARJ ("Alternate Reality Japan"), it's a very rich information source in LLM terms. You can think of it as a 32,000-word post crossing an #augmented reality break with a mitigatedchaos political theory post.

In fact, the 32k word post is too large for my RAM, so I spent three days summarizing it down to 12.7k words using Nous Capybara 34b. This was also too large, but a 6k hand-made summary from an old version was small enough to work.

Nous Capybara 34b was asked to write a brief report on ARJ, including an Overview, Government, Culture, and Economy, and then asked to assess ARJ's likely military strength.

Nous Capybara was then asked additional questions about a hypothetical conflict over Hawaiian separatism, including one essentially using the "pro-war power coalition" theory in just a sentence or two, from this post. Its answers were good, but not necessarily all that deep.

However, with this context, Capybara provided almost textbook-level definitions of "power coalition" (which it was asked to contrast with an "electoral coalition") and "political constellation":

Definitions

Power Coalition Definition: A power coalition refers to a group of political actors within a state who have significant influence or control over the decision-making process, particularly during times of conflict. These coalitions can consist of various organizations such as political parties, media outlets, think tanks, and other influential groups that work together to shape public opinion, set policy priorities, and support military actions. An electoral coalition refers to an alliance between two or more political parties for the purpose of winning elections. In this context, a power coalition may consist of members from multiple political parties that have formed an electoral coalition, but it also includes other influential actors beyond just those involved in politics, such as media organizations or think tanks. Political Constellation Definition: A political constellation is a broader term that encompasses the entire set of political institutions, organizations, and individuals within a state that shape its political landscape. This includes not only elected officials and their political parties but also other influential actors such as media outlets, universities, interest groups, and various non-governmental organizations (NGOs). In the context of a conflict, a political constellation can be thought of as the interconnected web of power relationships that determine the course of events within a state. The different factions within this constellation may have varying levels of influence over policy decisions, public opinion, and resource allocation, which can impact the outcome of a particular conflict or war. In summary, while an electoral coalition focuses on political parties working together to win elections, a power coalition represents a broader set of influential actors shaping decision-making during conflicts. A political constellation encompasses the entire range of political institutions and individuals within a state that influence its political landscape, including those involved in power coalitions and electoral alliances.

Its definitions without this context were kinda correct, but too vague to be useful.

What were the key two sentences?

"States, including their extended constellation of supporting organizations such as media, universities, and political parties, are never entirely unified. During each conflict, there will be a pro-war power coalition and an anti-war power coalition."

This is one of those "what you put in is what you get out" things - those two sentences are pretty conceptually dense. The possibility was there within the vague definitions, but required additional context to shape.

Summarizing

The 12.7k word summary turned out fairly well, even though I wasn't able to use it. I broke it down into about 20 sections and summarized each individually. The process still went faster than doing it by hand, partly because it would've been a tough decision to decide what to cut.

Summarizing usually took a best-of-3 approach, first boiling it down to a list of "Key Points," and then telling the LLM to use that to write the summary. Sometimes 1-2 sentences would be edited - about half the time, this was done in the key points list, which would contribute to the summary, and about half the time it was done in the summary itself.

List the 12-15 most important ideas or insights in the following passage, with a one sentence description of each. ----------- Original Passage ===========

The passage would be placed under here.

Key Points =======

The first pass would then generate the key point list. Without this, summaries tended to be too short - even when asked to write 600 words, Nous Capybara would usually write around 300 instead.

Summarize the Original Passage in 600 words. Use the Key Points as a guide. Give priority to the most important ideas or insights. Write from the author's perspective. Summary =======

Capitalizing "Original Passage" also seemed to make a difference. Using LLMs is more art than science. "Write from the author's perspective" seemed more vibes-based, and didn't reliably prevent writing things like, "the passage describes," and so on.

[lyinginbedmon]

What the hell I’m in a lot of pain tonight with lots still to do and feeling punchy.

Adult Human Female.

The quintessential transphobe’s response to the nonsense question of what constitutes a woman. I’m about to break this buzzphrase like a caped crusader’s spine over a luchador’s knee.

Adult - What is an adult? Are we going by a legal definition, in which case it’s purely arbitrary and also allows the law the theoretical power of nullifying your status as “a woman” AND BOY WOULDN’T THAT BE UNPLEASANT HUH, or are we going by some biological definition? In which case, what are we saying defines adulthood? Is it reproductive capacity, in which case we’re starting at teenagers and ending at menopause, IF THAT. Is it bones fusing, hormonal systems, some kind of physiological flux that we’re going to call puberty, absolutely NONE of which happens in the same reliable time frame for every single human being or even most of them? This is a ridiculous phrase upon which to base a concrete definition of someone’s identity, but that’s about to be the strongest in the lot.

Female - I’m out of sequence but believe me it’ll be worth it. The hell is “female��� supposed to mean? Are we talking social expectations, in which case your definition of woman is whoever cooks dinner, cleans the house, raises the children, and does so all whilst looking unrealistically attractive in a very narrow line. Or are we going to be more biological, in which case we’re back at having to pin down some kind of distinct biological characteristic that is not only highly flexible but also entirely subject to things like diet, illness, psychology, etc. etc. I’m betting they want me to say anyone born with a uterus but we all know that’s not the case for a great many women and even more don’t have one that works through most of their life if it exists at all.

So hey, the final curtain: What in the Arnold Schwarzenegger Appears In Jingle All The Way is a “human” supposed to be? Because outside of a Farmyard Animals picture book, the biological concept of a species is EXTREMELY vague. We try to draw the line by saying that a human being is a bipedal viviparous mammal with 4 extremities each with 5 digits and an expressive face capable of high-level cognition and language, but do you have any idea how many people don’t meet that definition and, moreover, how many other species Do? We can try to draw lines by saying that two animals that can breed non-sterile children are the same species, but then things like ligers and tigons waltz over the horizon. In reality, there’s not a single thing in your body that plainly declares that you are human, it’s all just comparisons to a baseline that is broad, vague, and ever-changing.

And under no circumstances do you want to get a legal definition involved here.

For the victory lap, chromosomes. Humans have 46 of them on average, plus a few hundred copies of the entire mitochondrial genome, and transphobes love to cite 2 of them at the most. Of those 2, they love to pick on the itty-bitty Y chromosome, with its 200 individual genes. Meanwhile, the X chromosome has another 800 out of the grand total of TWENTY ONE THOUSAND. That is one 46th of the chromosomes, holding less than a single percent of the total genetic makeup in your body.

And that’s assuming that everything works the way they think it does, which it doesn’t.

There’s no singular gene that describes how your organs are positioned, how your pelvis is shaped, what hormonal cycles your hypothalamus runs, and so on and so on. But what there is is a complex interconnected web of genes that result in all of those things, at which you might say “wait a minute, don’t they still result in broadly similar results?” to which I would say YES, because if an organism keeled over dead from any casual genetic error we wouldn’t get very far up the evolutionary ladder.

Evolution is extremely fixated on managing things so that any particular hiccup doesn’t wipe things out, because it is Incredibly Easy for that to happen. It’s not perfect, because nature never is, but it’s gotten pretty good at compensating, and as a result there’s a lot of different genetic differences that result in something that looks, on the face of it, largely the same. There’s lots of different paths it can take to the same basic destination. But underneath the hood is a whole host of differences that most people spend their lives totally unaware of until somebody needs to actually look closer at their genome. Evolution absolutely despises definitions, because the more tightly constrained an organism’s makeup is, the more vulnerable and fragile it becomes.

We are a loose bag of chemicals flying through space, what the hell kind of certainty did you expect trying to pin a single concrete definition on a living population of over 8 billion specimens.

[bracketsoffear]

Since we're nearing finals, and I genuinely can't believe one of my submissions (Hama, and with my description nonetheless) got quite far, I would like to put out some Web candidates that I didn't submit, either because they didn't get in, I backtracked on them, or because I just thought of it now and went 'damn, they would've been such a good fit':

Nagito Komaeda (Danganronpa) While I've seen people attribute him to the Spiral a lot due to (among other things) his unpredictable nature and insanity, I'd like to propose him as a Web avatar instead. If there's something he's known for, besides his unwell mental health and worldview, it'll be his affinity for complex schemes that he manages pull off. From his many schemes in-game (Chapter 1 and 5 notably), to the Side Despair anime spinoff (most notably where he blows up the gym to delay and exam for everyone), Nagito always comes up with very detailed plans to get what he wants. As part of the Remnants of Despair, under the title of 'the Servant', he plays both sides and start wars from either, all for his own ulterior motive/vision of a hopeful world born from despair. As 'the Servant', he has a distinction of being the only Despair to have his old beliefs; mirroring the Web as the only sentient fear entity. In trials, he shifts the direction of the discussions with either red herrings to test their skills or with vague but damning hints, manipulating the others as he sees fit into solving the case.

Then there's his luck cycle of good and bad. It's something that has take away a lot from him (his family, his dog, his health); not unlike the Desolation, the Web's biggest enemy. But at the same time, in true Web fashion, he manages to use this in his favor, inflicting bad luck on himself to make further use of the good luck that follows. Take the Chapter 5 case (his 'murder') for example, where he aims to expose the 'traitor' through a murder-suicide. Here, he inflicts bad luck on himself through grievous injuries, ensuring that whoever the traitor is, they will be the one to kill him without knowing. This follows the the 'seeking comfort in an entity, away from another entity' path that avatars like Michael Crew follows. Adding on to that, he even dies (at least in the simulation) in a way evocative of both the Web (his patron in this case) and the Desolation (his patron's enemy); bound by ropes and poisoned (Web) while the warehouse he's in burns down (Desolation)

Monsoon (Metal Gear Rising: Revengeance) He believes that everything is interconnected to and controlled by memes; no concept exists by its own, but is rather the effect of a previous concept/idea made by someone which in turn becomes a cause for future concepts/ideas, with the cycle repeating. As such, he continuously enforces the fact and belief that there's no such thing as freedom or free will to Raiden. He attributes his identity as a mercenary and killer not because of its thrill (Hunt) or bloodlust (Slaughter), but because he's also following along the threads of previous memes (Just like the spider in the puppet theatre Web domain Seriously MAG 172 is imo one of the episodes that nails the Web best), following the 'you serve what you feared' pipeline common in most avatars. During one of his encounters with Raiden, he drops this Web-like gem of a quote:

"War is a cruel parent, but an effective teacher. Its final lesson is carved deep in my psyche: That this world, and all its people, are diseased. Free will is a myth. Religion is a joke. We are all pawns, controlled by something greater: Memes. The DNA of the soul. They shape our will. They are the culture, they are everything we pass on. Expose someone to anger long enough, they will learn to hate. They become a carrier. Envy, greed, despair... All memes. All passed along."

In battle, he uses his magnetism, a force that can arguably by likened to a spiderweb (both pull things in and may entrap them), using it to pull metallic objects in or to quickly surround and entrap Raiden using his magnetised body (in conjunction with smoke bombs). As Raiden believes that he fights because "[his] sword is a tool of justice", Monsoon implicates that Raiden justifies violence and bloodshed (see his Jack the Ripper mode), as well as its enjoyment because of his moral compass. Turning one's own morals against them feels like something the Web (or a servant/avatar) would do.

The Dawn Machine THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN (Sunless Sea) (See @lun4rc0w 's explanation for a fuller/comprehensive reasoning on this, otherwise enjoy my watered down explanation) The Dawn Machine is an artificial star of sorts, built in the image of the Judgements (actual sentient stars) and to help in creating regulations for the Neath (basically humanity when they retreat into an underground world). However, it's also a sentient being that enjoys manipulation and mind control, planning to overtake the entirety of London (which it partially already did). Simply being near it allows it to extend its grip onto anyone, completely flooding the mind with its presence through THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN THE SUN, with it either deciding that the person in question would be a useful pawn in its conquest or an obstacle/nuisance to simply be eliminated. An ending in the game shows the Dawn Machine successfully taking over London, with everyone living finely (as finely as having a megalomaniac artificial sun as your new boss is) without free will.

"Welcome back. Nothing has changed. There's been some progress, of course" - Supremacy: The Dawn Machine, aka the ending where it wins

I may make a separate ask for Aizen, simply because there's a lot to cover.

.

[googledocsdyke]

WHAT are you writing i love the bit you posted can we read more pretty please

omg THANK u :”) i’m working on a collection of short stories (medium stories? they’re all like 10k+ words lol) all set in my hometown in late 2009/early 2010, and literalising the idea of queer childhood as a kind of haunting. in that queer childhood & the traumas that are often enmeshed w it involve so much fragmentation of time, so many ruptured milestones and unexpected temporal progressions and haunting “happens in a place stained by time” (to quote mark fisher) and run thru the most unexpected places! and i thought i’d play w that! 

so all the stories are vaguely temporally/interpersonally interconnected and take place in the same universe/social web but they have different premises: two elementary schooler best friends caught up in an increasingly disturbing game of lunchtime truth or dare accidentally summon the ghost of avril lavigne, though she isn’t dead; a high schooler gets a cashier job at a grocery store that sells discontinued products to nostalgic ghosts; his classmate who just went through a breakup with her kind of-girlfriend discovers that time becomes sticky and she can revisit moments of their relationship when she listens to the right cds; a middle schooler at a hockey tournament does.... Something i’m not quite sure what i’m only on the second story atm! i might post a snippet every now & then to motivate myself, i’m trying to do 1k a day but turns out this is hard when my brain is often melting like a cutting board in the oven

[sesquipedalian-aficionado]

Ok so. I have a thought on the Magnus Archives.

I think Jon is going to go through the rift with the fears, or (possibly worse) PART of him will.

Reasons:

The ending of the Magnus Archives seems (from my perspective) to be slanting in a meta direction. The whole “let’s send the fears into other dimensions”? While WE listen (and shudder) to a podcast spreading that fear?? Other people have made this meta concept already, and better than I could do it here.

Jon doesn’t want to leave all the universes receiving the fears to just deal with the same things their universe has been through. His main argument was ‘someday someone is going to do what I did and the apocalypse will happen again’. This is the main reason (I think) why he’s uncomfortable with the plan as it stands. He is clearly willing to sacrifice himself so the apocalypse doesn’t happen again somewhere else.

Jonny Sims, bless his heart, named his main character after himself. This means that all OUR information on the TMA universe is coming from ‘a’ Jon Sims, if not ‘the’ Jon Sims. This could be relevant if they are going in a meta direction.

Based on these points above, I was expecting someone in episode 199 to come to the conclusion ‘let’s send a warning along with the fears, so each universe will get them but also our story, so they can prepare and understand and be better off than us’. I was expecting that to be the bow on everything: we got the fears but Jon also sent through some form of warning through the Jon Sims of the multiverse, so we could be better off than he was. This warning turned into TMA, bing bang boom, nice wrap-up of everything.

But they didn’t. No one got to that suggestion, which means that if I’m picking up correctly on the groundwork that the TMA team has been laying so far, and it’s heading in that direction, then this is going to be either an accident or (again, worse:) a last-minute decision. My next points:

Annabelle said “Jon will lose [...] the parts of him that are The Eye.” Well that’s...concerningly vague. What, of his fear experiences and observations, ISN’T the Eye at this point?? He’s been giving all of those memories and experiences to the Eye since before he even knew that’s what he was doing. More recently, he’s been using his Eye powers to even get those statements in the first place.

Also!! Annabelle talked extensively about how they used his voice, his statements, everything the tape recorders got, to pull open the rift and set this whole thing up! Will all those recordings get sucked in, too? What would that do to Jon?

Annabelle said that Jon post-fears would be alive still, though I believe her exact words were “he will remain as he believes himself to be” which is about as ominous as it gets. Jon’s not coming out of this the same person as he is in ep 199. Some part of him is going out with the fears, but how much of him will they take? He’s given so much of himself to the Eye (coerced, via statements) and the Web (unintentional, via recorders), not to mention the other fears and his experiences with them. What of him, really, is left untouched by that? How deep is that connection?

And finally, my wrap-up point:

The Magnus Archives is a Tragedy.

I’m not sure exactly what that means to Jonny and the TMA team, but here’s the thing: this outcome has a TON of potential for Maximum Pain. This provides chances for the following (the following points are not quite evidence of my theory, but merely predictions on what they could do with this path)

Jon, deciding that he can’t live with himself without at least warning the other universes about the fears, decides at the last minute to throw himself into the mix. (Worst case scenario: he does this in front of a Martin unable to stop him due to preoccupation or incapacitation.)

Jon’s knowledge of the fears, his experiences with them, his own fear? All sucked through the rift. This could be EXTREMELY painful in combination with that thing Martin said in 199 about how they wouldn’t have ever found each other and fallen in love without the Fears and the Archives. Y’all remember Jon at Salesa’s? Not remembering things? Not knowing things? Confusion? Hey guys. Hey guys. What if he forgets everything he went through. He wouldn’t remember caring about Martin. They wouldn’t fit together any more but also - there would be a somewhat detraumatized, living (kind of?) Jon! Happy ending right? Except clearly not? Sounds tragic huh

Alternatively, Jon just dives right in. He’s not a fear, so he gets fractured throughout the multiverse. Each iteration holds just enough memory to write stories and warn their worlds about the fears, without knowing the truth of it or what he left behind. Meanwhile........Martin is left alone in their world. Thanks, I Hate It

Anyway that’s all the big evidence I could think of but here’s a couple points to add on:

Meta Bonus Points: this would be a fantastic, dare I say, web of interconnected hints about meta and touching universes and the origins of the TMA podcast within its own universe.

Jon gave Georgie the lighter. JON GAVE GEORGIE THE LIGHTER. This means that, if he did decide to do this, the Web (who admittedly is pretty against Potential Victims Knowing About Them) might not be able to see or stop him from doing it.

Jon had a goodbye with both Basira and Georgie. This doesn’t bode well for his chances. He didn’t have one with Melanie, but did we really expect one? Their exchange was fitting for both of them. (Or, if you disagree, maybe she’ll say goodbye at the beginning of the next ep).

[emmalenalouisaellis]

Dear Diary ~ Reflecting on  Personal and Public Scribbles

“I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.” ― Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest

I preface this by saying this is not a complaint against computers. I have one, and for much of my adult life, I have worked on a computer. 

Typing is faster, smoother, and even though it's not foolproof, it has some form of spell-check. Or, since Word isn't always a comprehensive lexicon - something that can be found in a Google search or too - it is much easier to look through than an extensive, cumbersome dictionary.  Simply put, having a laptop is the ideal solution for a dyslexic writer like myself who has to sometimes wade through dozens of notebooks and character sheets, plot points and extended drafts to ensure that I can bash out something vaguely resembling a novel.

But, ever since I was a little girl, I have always looked forward to Christmas time. Because amongst the assortment of brightly and delicately wrapped gifts, I find myself with a brand new and unmarked diary. Every time, I feel the crisp, clean pages on my fingers, the soft, secure spine, where the neatly cut ribbon falls in matching or contrasting colours. I take up my favourite pen and write my name, neatly as I can on the front page. This, more than any other present, belongs to me. It will become my secret, my confidant, in a way that still charms me. A perfectly imperfect, personal collection of handwritten scribbles. A permanent memento of me that will still exist despite the ever-growing digital age.

And with the pandemic showing it isn't "over yet",  One might think that even here, as I write my thoughts over the internet, such things are archaic and cumbersome. Because as time goes on, more and more of us are clustering around screens to stay connected with loved ones or work colleagues - the world' Zoom'ing by as we are encouraged to remain apart, at home and sensible.

But to me, there still needs to be a balance. We can choose to broadcast everything - some of us do: posting publically to our friends we've met online and face to face through the years - using social media.

As one of my public faces, even my Tumblr has been meticulously polished, written and rewritten in a bid to be 'likeable' or 'relatable'.  This is partly because I love receiving comments and recommendations here, and seeing someone gave it a note makes me feel like my words are validated.  (For all those that do - old and new: Thank you).

The whole thing is very much a viewing platform and snapshots I feel noteworthy and vital enough to broadcast in many ways. It’s the sitcom of my life and that of others, and all of it plays out from the comfort of our own homes to keep others from worry and concern, all whilst sparking general curiosity. Talking points.

Ida Lupino (c. 1952). Courtesy Film Forum via Photofest

Whereas, in contrast, writing a diary feels more individual. Here I can rant and cry or smile and sigh without judgement and filters, simply recording my own reflections on the page without an audience. And there is something so aesthetically pleasing about it that you can't get from a typed out document. Sometimes there is blood from papercuts, ink splatters where I scribbled too fast, dried tears and smudges from my hand - but all of it is raw, personal and mine.

As someone with learning disabilities, I find it difficult sometimes to open up to others. But my diary is somewhere just for me, and very often, the words flow.

A diary is a beautiful expression of self-love, sometimes loathing by me and for me.

If we choose to share it, it reflects trust and openness, which I suppose is why there are so many cliché moments in teen dramas of girls feeling violated when they have their diary snatched and read by their peers.

But that’s the problem and the wonderful appeal of books: they can quickly transport us to another world.

When I was younger, I was by chance glancing over my Granny’s bookshelves when I found what would become one of my favourite books ‘The Country Diary of an Edwardian Lady'  by Edith Holden. 

Since its first publication in 1906, the book has charmed many with its beautiful drawings of wild and garden flowers and a hint of charming recordings and recolections in words and paintings the flora and fauna of the British countryside in the four beautiful seasons. 

Much like her work - little stories and poems in my own diaries. I fill them with recipes, pressed flowers, autumn leaves and ticket stubs or add poems I’ve also fallen in love with when writer’s block strikes.

When I can, I love to write in fountain pen with flowing blue or green ink, or make more occasional, frantic scribbles in pencil. In contrast to my organised, documents and manuscripts, I am confident there are many spelling mistakes littering the pages. But that’s part of the charm. 

And the internet can often help enhance these futher. You only have to go on Pinterest to find beautiful pictures to print out or post in virtual corkboards and scrapbooks. Thanks to the interconnected world wide web, there are plenty of poems I can search for and add into my diaries to compliment my own ideas.  For example on the blog by Bella’s Rose Cottage I came across this beautiful little poem:

“The kind of flowers,

I find to be the workhorse of my cottage garden…

the self seeders,

who behave a bit naughty…

the sort of flowers that give the garden

that lived in look,

like the magic of finding a secret garden,

wild around the edges…

flowers to press in the pages of a book,

to remind you of a lazy summers day…

tucked into a little nook to sip quietly…

watch the puppies frolic…

a day to maybe,

use long seedpods of the Toadflax,

as a book mark…

and enjoy a nap…..”

- Bella Rogers

It was so pretty, that it helped inspire me to write this post. Spring is now upon us and with it a chance to reflect and enjoy new beginnings - and opportunities.  It’s nearly the weekend and now with renewed inspiration, the words are once more flowing freely from my fingers as the creative itch begins as always with those magical words:

'Dear Diary,'

I wonder what I shall write about today…

 Have a beautiful day 

x Emmalena

[androgynous-barbie]

(saw this late so sorry) that is literally EXACTLY what happened with Universal. They were totally on board until he said ‘and then she begins to fall for him’ 😂😂😂😂😂😂

without giving spoilers, there’s actually a plan GDT came up with that made it into the NEW haunted mansion’s final product and I hope he’s being compensated for that at least. Funny enough to me it sounded dumb as hell when GDT proposed it cuz it sounded like it made no sense but if what made it into the movie is what he meant it makes perfect sense and was executed wonderfully nope. too vague. spoilers under the cut if you care (kinda minor tho... kinda)

Del Toro’s plan was to have The Hatbox Ghost be ‘in the center of a web of interconnected haunted mansions’.... like.......... huh? like he’s the common link of a bunch of haunted mansions/houses? based on different versions of Disney Park spooky rides?  (would he be able to just leave gracey manor and go to Ravenswood manor? mystic manor too? tokyo?) in the movie we DID get, the hatbox ghost in life owned his own mansion that resembles the Florida version and then later purchased Gracey Manor 

so even tho Crump Manor (the florida-resembling one) isn’t huanted like gracey is.... the link is still there.... yeah?

(and also since the idea was executed so well, it goes to show that even when IIIIIIIIIIIIIIII doubt a plan of his, it eventually comes out perfect so SERIOUSLY studio execs, LET THE MAN HAVE HIS WAY. it benefits EVERYONE)

but yeah the web thing and ryan gosling as hattie were all we knew of his plans. i doubt there would’ve been gore and even impliiiiiied incest (but i could be wrong, who knows what he hoped he could get away with? haha) but like....... i just know in my heart that hatchets and axes would have been swung and thrown probably with reckless abandon and im DAMN sure there wouldve been a long haired, white dressed, candelabra wielding maiden in a flowy dress 😂😂😂😂 

This may be a hot take, but I consider Crimson Peak (2015) a *very* unofficial Haunted Mansion adaptation. It's by Guillermo del Toro, involves a haunted mansion infested with ghosts and twisted family history (including both variations on a murdering bride AND the Bluebeard myth), has a "corridor of doors" scene...and even has a cameo from actual Haunted Mansion wallpaper! (It's the foyer pattern, not the eyes, but still, that HAS to be deliberate!)

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before AU (Sanders Sides Style)

I have decided that I am going to write a fic from my prompt list!

I was thinking that I would write a To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before AU.

But who was to be the protagonist?

Who is multishipped?

Who is a hopeless romantic?

Who is a total dumbass?

Ah. There’s the protagonist.

But what is his characterization besides the letters?

-Has probably been to many, many ren fairs.

-Seriously. His cosplay game is superb.

-Theater kid disaster trying his best.

-How many trees has this kid fallen out of? How many cliffs? He is great at climbing stuff, and terrible at getting down from them (and generally good at getting into situations and not knowing what to do next).

-Has watched the Princess Bride 500,689 times.

-Not exactly drastically unpopular but a bit too odd to be capital p Popular? Roman is like terms and conditions. Always accepted, but ignored.

-Does he have all the confidence or none of it? Find out at 7.

-Secretly likes the idea of having a crush more than the prospect of an actual relationship.

So, Roman writes letters whenever he falls in love. As in TATBILB fashion, he’s written five so far, all of them hidden away. 

But will they ever be [gasp] sent? Take a wild fricking guess.

But whoever would do something so chaotic?

Remus. How could you. Such betrayal. 

-Remus is a band kid. Trust me on this one.

-He’s probably on this hellsite.

-Honestly all the Dark Sides would be on the hellsite, whether through emo-ness, wanting to fist fight the government, or just sheer chaotic energy.

-He can always find a way to light something on fire. He doesn’t even have matches. The stuff is just On Fire and no one knows how to stop him.

-You want to hear some serial killer trivia? No? TOO BAD!

-Would just randomly post this picture to the Dark Sides group chat:

Alongside the words, “Ever wondered why people fear geese?”

(Virgil: WHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCKWHATTHEFUCK Janus: Well, I can cross “staring death in the eyes and screaming” off of my bucket list.)

-Could win Jeopardy if the theme was “trivia facts that have made the school counselor quit”

-Positive attention, negative attention, hey, people are acknowledging his existence!

But we need more people in this fic. For starters, who have these letters been to?

Introducing, These Poor Fools!

Okay, so Patton isn’t actually one of Roman’s love interests. There hasn’t been any romantic feelings between them since 5th grade. Roman would have trashed the letter by now, but it’s nostalgic and funny at this point.

But they are best friends!

They’re both Terms And Conditions, plus they support each other’s weird hobbies, be it ren fairs or increasingly convulsed plans to break into the local shelters and steal all of the dogs and cats.

Oh, yeah.

-Patton’s grand ambition is to break into the local shelters and steal all of the dogs and cats.

-It’s mostly a joke, but he has the blueprints of every building.

-SWEATERS!!!

-He has been told he’s a great baker. This is because he is too endearing to tell him that he is a terrible baker. In truth, he can make toast. Barely.

-Probably listens to ABBA music.

-WHY DO SPIDERS EXIST??? HE KNOWS THAT HE LOVES ALL ANIMALS IN THEORY, BUT HECKING SPIDERS

-Very, very opinionated, while looking like someone who has no opinions on much of anything.

-Why isn’t there anyone in his life who isn’t having a crisis right now including him? Are all senior years like this, or is his especially chaotic?

-Emile

-Isn’t

-Really

-In

-This

-Fic

-Beyond

-A

-Few

-Mentions

Remy!

-“I couldn’t care less”, he says while getting too invested in the drama.

-”Why can’t you people leave me alone”, he says while trying to discreetly match-make.

-”All of this pointless drama”, he says while making like half of it.

-His sunglasses will remain on his face at all times or the universe explodes.

Logan!

-ACTUALLY didn’t intend to be in the drama

-SERIOUSLY EMOTIONS HAVE RUDELY ENTERED THE BUILDING AND IT’S ALL HE CAN DO TO BEAT THEM BACK WITH A BROOM

-JUST...HIT YOUR EMOTIONS. WITH A BROOM. IT’LL WORK, RIGHT?

-On the debate team and great at it.

-You can Ethos, Logos, Pathos your way into asking someone out. This is going to work!

-BUT WHAT IF IT DOESN’T THERE ARE NO RULES OR JUDGES TO SOCIAL ENCOUNTERS JUST COLD HARD FAILURE

-Almost got a B+ once. The memory haunts him.

-Doesn’t know anyone else in this fic. Everyone else has like vaguely met, or at least know of the other’s existence. But Logan doesn't knows who the hell any of these people are, just that they are screaming messes.

-Sherlock fan. Doctor Who fan. Has probably gone to many a comic con.

-Knows all the words to In The Heights and can probably rap Guns And Ships flawlessly.

And finally, Janus, Roman’s latest crush!

-Also a theater kid disaster

-Is technically the head of the Dark Sides (they won’t be called the dark sides in the fic, of course), but, like...he shouldn’t be in charge of anything?

-He’s the most responsible one out of the friend group, but that’s because that particular bar was laying on the ground. No. Six feet under the ground. So he’s the “responsible one” but compared to a normal human he is not responsible AT ALL.

-”I know what I’m doing!” Narrator voice: He did not, nor will he likely ever know what he’s doing.

-Will physically fight the government if given half a chance

-Is his brain an interconnected web of genius or a broken compter with a post-it note saying, “Give Em’ The Old Razzle-Dazzle” on it? Nobody knows.

-Chicago. It’s memorized. All of Chicago is memorized.

-Slytherin, but in a good way.

-Conspiracy theories galore.

-Plays piano

And there you have it! Everyone Roman sent a letter to!

What’s this? 

You’re saying I forgot someone?

I assure you, I did not.

VIRGIL!!!

-What are his thoughts on everything? Well,

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

-HE JUST WANTED TO BE LEFT TO THE GLORY OF MCR’S RETURN IN PEACE AND NOW EVERYTHING IS THIS MAMMA MIA HELLSCAPE

-Stupid love pentagons. Stupid high school. Stupid Roman...

-He and Roman are kind of nemeses, but it’s not like he’s Princey’s only nemesis or anything. This guy goes through nemeses like crushes.

-🎶Everything is chaos! Everything is chaos! Everything is chaos and he’s going to scream!🎶

-Panic!, yet nary a disco in sight

-Let’s play the game of, “where can Virgil sit that is not a chair?”

-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

-He’s fine.

Hopefully this fic will turn out okay, or even just kind of get completed!

Wish me all the luck

Here’s a John Mulaney GIF for the long post: