#found these while digging in our art folders for cover art

[translations-by-aiimee]

Dig a Grave to Dig Out a Ghost - Chapter 16

Original Title: 挖坟挖出鬼

Genres: Drama, Horror, Mystery, Supernatural, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 16 - Game

Ten minutes later, Lin Yan appeared on the stage awkwardly wearing a silver-grey robe with a small dragon pattern embroidered on it. All ten participants took their seats. Even the Professor File Folder put on a traditional teacher's outfit. The buzzing activity coming from the crowd made Lin Yan blush. It felt like he was sitting on pins and needles; it was uncomfortable no matter how he tried to adjust himself.

This whole situation felt like a melodrama between Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai. He couldn't help but glance back at Xiao Yu several times. The only real ancient man in the audience was standing behind him with a frown. Looking at him with a serious stare, he pressed his hand against Lin Yan's shoulder, like he was trying to comfort him.

When he changed his clothes, he noticed that something was wrong with Xiao Yu, or maybe it was just everything that was wrong. In the dressing room, the ghost had wrapped himself around him and hugged him. He pushed and shoved the other around the narrow room, creasing his costume. Just as Lin Yan was about to start fighting back, Xiao Yu suddenly stopped tugging him around. He pulled him over to the mirror, put his chin on Lin Yan's shoulder and he stared at the person in the reflection. For the first time, his chaotic eyes seemed calm, even holding a quiet sadness.

The mirror surface swayed, like a droplet hitting a calm pool of water, waves rippling away from the center. Standing in the brass mirror was a young man standing with clear eyes, hands resting beside a cloud brocade waistband, and a face exuding pride. Lin Yan backed away in horror. He almost screamed. The person in the mirror wasn't him. Although he had the exact same face, life had done a number on him and he wouldn't be able to make an expression like that anymore.

The scent of agarwood incense in the room was intoxicating. The young man's eyes softened. The tall man in the traditional Chinese clothes adjusted his chin on his shoulder, raising his long eyebrows. His voice was slow and hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in a long time: "I've been waiting for you for so long. . ."

Lin Yan's head snapped back to the mirror. He staggered forwards and leaned against the mirror. The person in front of him had hair as black as paint, and his mottled blood coat didn't match his eyes that seemed so sad and hopeless. . .

I have been waiting for you for a long time.

Lin Yan scrambled out of the dressing room.

"The break is over. Please quiet down and we'll get started with our next activity." The girl in the red jacket skirt read.

Lin Yan sat in the chair in a daze. The bright stage lights and the dark crowd in the audience made him feel like what just happened in the dressing room was a hallucination, and Xiao Yu was no different. Lin Yan looked back at him, panicked. Xiao Yu leaned down and held his trembling hand. On the table were a small whiteboard and a soft black marker. Xiao Yu motioned for him to pick it up and he moved his hand across the whiteboard: I'll help you.

Lin Yan was stunned and wrote out: Do you remember something?

Xiao Yu didn't seem to want to answer. He shook his head and let go of his hand. He still stood behind him holding onto Lin Yan's shoulder for support.

The audience quieted down, and bright white chasing lights hit the mahogany silk box on the centre of the stage. The red jacket skirt girl stepped forward to open the silk box, revealing the glass box within. The audience let out a few exclamations, and Lin Yan's eyes lit up. It was a beautiful moon flask with two handles. The maiden leaned against the tree art, the linework was meticulous, the enamel fully covered the flask, the piece was still intact, and the overall flask was in good condition.

This authentification wasn't difficult for a student studying cultural relics. Lin Yan carefully looked at the glaze texture and enamel of the flask's body. He wrote his answer on the whiteboard after double-checking that it was correct. When the time was up, the host walked past the square table and stopped when he reached the PSP guy, holding up her mic and asking: "You, what's your answer?"

The PSP guy’s whiteboard turned out to be empty. He was leaning on the table and his attention was focused on his game. When the host asked the second time, he raised his head as if he had just woken up. He glanced lazily around and sarcastically twitched the corners of his mouth into a smile. "It's genuine," he spat out. Then he brushed the host off and lowered his head to continue playing the game.

Lin Yan knew this guy was arrogant, but he didn't expect him to act this to everyone. The girl in the red jacket skirt was embarrassed by PSP's attitude. After putting a polite expression back on her face, she nodded and walked to the next student.

"Well. . . There were nine students who got the answer right, might as well switch it up for the last one." The audience let out a good laugh, and the boy three places down from Lin Yan grinned and left the stage. The professor briefly spoke about the flask. Lin Yan cleaned off the whiteboard and waited for the next question. His mind couldn't get over what he saw. He thought that most people wouldn't make a mistake on such a simple question. It seemed that the people on the stage were not as professional as they thought.

Professor File Folder also seemed a little disappointed. He took a sip from his stainless steel cup and turned his attention to the laptop, not knowing what he was looking at.

The brocade box in the center of the stage was swapped with a smaller one. After the mysterious sound effect, the box slowly opened. It was an ancient book. The host motioned everyone to take a closer look. Lin Yan stood in front of the glass box for a while and returned to his seat to write the next answer: "Genuine, the Southern Opera "White Rabbit" published in the Ming Dynasty, unearthed from the tomb of the Xuan family in Jiading."

He had seen this thing in the Shanghai Museum. Lin Yan thought, this lecture is like an antique appreciation meeting. No wonder it attracted so many people. After they all answered the question, another person left the stage amidst the applause and whistle of the audience, leaving another armchair free.

The questions were asked one by one, gradually getting more and more difficult. A fake yet elaborate sunflower gold hairpin inlaid with gemstones stumped three people, and then a bucket-colour fine-grained water chestnut bucket imitation with a "grinding" technique even had Lin Yan hesitate with his answer. After the authenticity of each item was announced, the professor simply added a few points on the piece, which could count as educating the audience on the topic. The seats were vacated one by one. When the eighth object was brought out, there were only two people left on the stage. Lin Yan glanced to the right, and it was the PSP guy who had toughed it out until the end.

He looked careless, but he didn't expect that he understood the field so well. Lin Yan put his cold palms on his face to cool down and took a long breath as he waited for the next question.

The red jacket skirt girl was holding a delicate paper box in her hand. Instead of showing it to the audience first, she walked over to Lin Yan and the PSP guy, signalling them to come forward. She opened the paper box and carefully took out a fan.

The ink on the front of the golden fan wasn't very visible; it wasn't well-preserved. The ribs of the fan were slightly damaged, and there are signs of water damage on the ink-painted mountains. With this kind of condition, it would be difficult to fetch a good price in a private auction if it wasn't made by a famous artist. But when the inscription on the face of the fan was exposed, Lin Yan and the PSP man couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. On the front, a few lines of the unruly inscription were written on the fan: “Wildwater Bridge Road, The Village of Barren Chickens and Fallen Leaves. Returned to Hou Xidu, The Child Sweeps the Firewood Door." What surprised the two of them were the three small characters following the poem: by Tang Yin.

Lin Yan's heart sped up. If this was Tang Yin's authentic work, then the fan in front of him was worth at least 500,000 yuan. Wasn't he afraid of being robbed bringing such a valuable thing to school? Then a clear picture of the fan was shown on the big screen. As expected by Lin Yan, an exclamation sounded from the audience, and even the host's voice was drowned by the buzzing discussion.

Professor File Folder grew impatient and coughed into the loudspeaker to signal the audience to shift their attention back to the event.

Lin Yan carefully looked at the light brown fan in front of him. He couldn't help but take his time with his answer. Tang Yin's paintings were extremely difficult to distinguish in the field of calligraphy and painting. His style of painting changed throughout his pieces, and he rarely indicated the year on the paintings so it was difficult to guess the painting based on its creation year. Therefore, there were countless counterfeiters and imposters on the market. To be honest, judging this kind of work could only be based on the painting style, date and seal inscription. The most important thing is the eye and inspiration of the connoisseur. Being extremely familiar with the author’s style, the first time he saw the work, he could only make a guess. This wasn't just an answer determined by years of study, but it was also just a luck-based gamble.

In the early years of the founding of the People’s Republic of China, many collectors relied on this ability to make money at auctions overnight, but it was too difficult for students like Lin Yan who hadn’t even finished school. He frowned and thought carefully. Regardless of the painting style, the date and the handwriting of this fan were almost flawless. Although there was a slight deviation from Tang Yin's other landscape paintings, the vigorous and unrestrained spirit of the brush strokes clearly distinguished this piece.

It should be the original one. . . Lin Yan bit on his pen and hesitated. Halfway through writing out his answer, his wrist was suddenly grabbed. Xiao Yu bent down and studied the fan carefully. His fingers lightly tracing the red seal and he seemed surprised. He shook his head at Lin Yan and crossed off the half-written "true" on the whiteboard with his hand.

"After so long, you still haven't figured it out?" PSP guy leaned over to Lin Yan casually with a disdainful expression. Seeing Lin Yan still holding the pen hesitantly, he couldn't help but sneer, "I thought you were so awesome."

The file folder-like professor was staring at his notebook in a daze. Hearing these words, he couldn't help turn his head around and looked at the two with interest. Lin Yan just focused his attention on the painting instead and had forgotten to be nervous. As soon as he raised his head to meet the professor's gaze, his cheeks became hot again. He couldn't help but cry inside. He originally planned to wait for the end of the event to ask the professor backstage regardless of whoever won the contest. Now he feels like he wouldn't be able to ask him anything if he lost to this guy in this activity.

"Hurry up, hurry up." PSP guy tapped the table with a pen and made some muffled noises. "Just go home already, you aren't qualified for this."

When the professor heard this, he couldn't hide his amusement and turned his face to take a sip of water to cover up his expression.

That was rude. He hadn't finished yet. Lin Yan clenched his fist and asked Xiao Yu as quietly as possible: "Are you sure?" Xiao Yu nodded, his pale fingers stroked his throat, and frowned. After a long time, it seemed that it took a lot of effort to say slowly and hoarsely: ". . . I drew it."

Lin Yan's eyes widened. He looked at Xiao Yu in disbelief, and then at the fan. In ancient times, there was no perfect reprinting technology. Famous paintings and calligraphy were often copied by literati and calligraphers. Some were for practice, some were to give to friends. Some were for selling, and the prices of those high-quality copies were even comparable to the originals. But Xiao Yu's counterfeit actually appeared here. . . Wasn't this too much of a coincidence?

"Dude, if you don't know what it is, stop wasting our time." Seeing Lin Yan's hesitation, the PSP guy shook his head impatiently. He lowered his head and continued to play his game, pressing the buttons with his thumb, clicking them loudly.

Lin Yan was also irritated but by this person's attitude. He took a deep breath and wrote his answer on the whiteboard. The crowd in the audience couldn't wait. The people in the nearby seats pointed at the PowerPoint. Someone nodded gently, seeming to recognize the authenticity of the painting.

The sound effect of a gong sounded, and when the host read out the answers of the two, Lin Yan heard a commotion in the audience and even a disdainful sneer from the corner of the room. However, the PSP guy completely ignored the audience’s reaction and crossed his legs. He glanced at Lin Yan, touched the pimples on his face and raised an eyebrow with a chuckle: "You're right, not bad."

The same answer was written on both whiteboards: fake.

The professor showed an appreciative smile on his face for the first time. After he said the right answer, he grabbed the microphone and explained to the audience: "Tang Yin's fan "Xiqiao Going Back to the River", a work made during the Ming Dynasty Chenghua period. The author is unknown. The two students answered correctly."

There was a sigh from the auditorium. This time, most of the people who had thought they were right about their guess couldn't help pointing at the screen to discuss the flaws in the fan. There was even a school official wearing a black suit in the front row who had turned around and argued fiercely with the guests in the back row.

Author unknown? Lin Yan wasn't focusing on the fan, instead looking back at Xiao Yu. His hands still rested on his shoulder, but he didn't respond to anything Professor File Folder was saying. Instead, he frowned as if immersed in memory. He seemed really lost in thought. Lin Yan looked into Xiao Yu's eyes, no longer as wild as a beast like when he first saw him. Now, his dark eyes were like the surface of the river after sunrise, and the turbid fog was slowly burned away in the sun, revealing a hint of clarity from within the chaos.

"Now that the first nine rounds are over, please give your attention to the last round with these two classmates, which is also the most difficult round today." The red jacket skirt girl raised her voice and signalled to something behind her.

[spatort]

I’m at my parents’ house and I have too much time on my hands apparently, so it’s time for a trip down memory lane! More specifically, a trip into the weird world of 1990s for-profit teen idol RPF, such as this beauty:

No, I did not find this at my parents’ house, I bought it second-hand specifically in order to make this post because I’m a person who enjoys studying fan culture in her free time. So, if you’re wondering what the hell the monstrosity pictured above is, and why it exists, don’t worry, I’m about to answer that question extensively.

LONG (AND HOPEFULLY FUN & INTERESTING) POST UNDER THE CUT

Let’s start with a bit of history: In the pre-internet era, fan culture differed from today in a few key regards. Although fanfiction existed, without the internet it was much harder for fans to share their stories with each other. Large fandoms such as Star Trek did have fanzines where fanfic could be printed, but all in all it was a much more niche thing than it is today with millions of fics accessible on AO3.

Fan culture in general, however, was a big thing in the 90s – particularly when it came to pop acts that appealed to teen (and tween) audiences, such as the Backstreet Boys, the Spice Girls, or (mostly in Europe) the Kelly Family. When I was in elementary school, you basically had to pick whether you were a BSB or an NSYNC fan – and god forbid you were a Kelly fan like me, then you were the lowest rung on the social ladder and the target of relentless mockery. Like many German kids in the 90s, me and my sister would religiously read teen magazine BRAVO, cut out every single bit of material about our faves and collect them in folders and self-made fanzines. We created fan art and fanfiction without having words for these things. Without the internet and social media, fans did not have a constant stream of content about their idols, and were left with no other choice but to cling to every bit of information they could find in magazines, on TV shows, or on the radio.

Enter a savvy businessperson who comes up with the perfect merchandise product to sell to these popstar-obsessed teens: fan novels! These books, featuring taglines such as ‘The novel for all Backstreet Boys fans’, typically revolved around a relatable female teenage protagonist who is a fan of the celebrity or music group in question, and usually ends up meeting their idol or, gasp, even becoming romantically involved with them. As far as themes go, they look pretty much exactly like your classic self-insert RPF. Except there is a big difference setting these books apart from ‘actual’ fanfiction: Rather than being written by real fans to express their ‘fannish’ feelings about the subject, fan novels were most likely commissioned works created by professional romance authors purely to profit off of actual fans. There is very little background information available about this ‘genre’, but I did stumble across an academic work on Google Books which featured a passage about these fan novels (translated into English by me):

There are several commissioned works by professional authors, which could be mistaken for fanfiction. Especially in the 1990s, when lots of boy bands were on the market, many books of this kind were published. […] These are fictional stories for fans [redacted].

Jennie Hermann: Backstreet Girl. Projektionsfläche Popstar - Wenn der Fan zum Schriftsteller wird (2009) [Popstar as Projection Surface – When fans become writers]

One of the things I find most intriguing about this type of commercially published fanfiction is the question of personal rights. Obviously, the celebs in question or their management must have consented to using their names in the story, their pictures on the cover and so on – because a profit could be made with this. Especially with the fan debate around RPF allegely being unethical, I wonder if the celebrities themselves were aware someone was writing these stories about them, putting words in their mouth, and if they had any clue what exactly happened in these novels. Now, I’ve read a couple of them in my own youth. Some of them deal mostly with the state of being a fan, e.g. I recall a novel about a girl who is so obsessed with Leonardo Di Caprio that she doesn’t pay attention to real life guys at all, only to learn that her actual dream boy has been in her life all along! This story did not feature Di Caprio himself as a character, it was more about the protagonist’s arc of realizing your idols are not all that matters in life. Others do describe fan encounters with teen idols, and some even feature (hints at) romance with a celebrity. When I decided to purchase a vintage copy of one of these books, I opted for one of the latter category, precisely because of the popular argument that writing romance stories featuring real people is somehow ‘wrong’. For only a couple of euros, I was able to get my hands on a weird and wonderful relic of fan culture: Mein Frühling mit Nick (My spring with Nick) by the likely pseudonymous Maxi Keller, heralded on the book cover as ‘the novel for all fans of the Backstreet Boys’.

The story revolves around 16-year-old musical prodigy and designated wallflower Katharina, who lives in a German small town and cares about nothing else than playing the organ – certainly not about boys, let alone ones that are super-famous American pop stars. This means she is not initially a fan of the Backstreet Boys, which I guess is something of a trope itself – the protagonist meeting a celebrity by chance without knowing who they are and the celeb being thrilled that someone doesn’t just like them for their fame. Anyway, the boys visit Katharina’s hometown while on tour in Germany because band member AJ is doing some research on his German ancestors who happened to live in this very town. Katharina runs into them, she and Nick (who was only 17 himself when this was published in 1997, so it’s legal) fall in love at first sight, she helps them dig up information on AJ’s ancestors and finds out the two of them are related, the boys invite Katharina and her friend Saskia backstage after their show and … nothing happens. The book is 200 pages long and Katharina doesn’t even get one kiss with her boy band sweetheart, even though they mutually crush on each other right away. Perhaps that’s as far as the band or their management agreed for the novel to go – a hint at romance, but no trace of any on-page action, no matter how innocent.

That said, the book is so hilariously poorly written that it was still very entertaining to read. Although I could not find out anything about the author Maxi Keller, and therefore assume this might be a pseudonym, their writing style very much suggests that their are a professional romance author who usually writes for an older audience (plus, the book was published by Bastei Lübbe, who also publish a range of cheap romance novels known as ‘Romanhefte’). The language is extremely flowery at times, and even teenage characters speak with an eloquence that is hardly age-appropriate, with some 90s teen slang peppered in at unfitting times (such as the overuse of the English word ‘girl’). Often the novel loses itself in pointless detail that does nothing to move the plot forward (such as an extensive description of a house party hosted by Saskia’s rich parents, with minute details of their luxurious lifestyle and assets, even though Saskia is only a supporting character in the overall plot). It appears as if the author is desperately trying to fill the pages with meaningless drivel so they don’t need to write too many scenes featuring the presumed main attraction, the boys themselves.

If Keller was indeed merely hired to write this, and is not a fan themselves, one must still admit that the author did their research when it comes to the band. Whereas fanfiction typically assumes that the audience is already familiar with the characters and often skips any introductory descriptions of their appearance or personality, Keller makes sure that even a reader who is completely unfamiliar with the Backstreet Boys can keep up. The author delivers extensive descriptions of the boys’ appearance and demeanor, even spelling out their full names repeatedly, and frequently peppers in ‘fun facts’ such as ‘Kevin was raised on a farm in Kentucky’. While an actual fan might do so to prove how knowledgeable they are, and earning their status as a ‘true fan’, in this case it only seems like Keller really wants to show off how much research they did – as if not a single piece of information they took in must go to waste by not being used in the novel.

When it comes to the question how realistically the non-fannish author replicates the way the boys act and speak, there are two barriers to delivering a well-founded answer: Firstly, I was personally very young when BSB were popular and I really don’t remember too well what each member was like. Secondly, the elephant in the room: the language barrier. All of the aforementioned fan novels were written in German, and the problems posed by writing about an English-speaking band interacting with German OCs (and teenage ones at that) are addressed poorly, if at all. Pretty much all dialogue is written in German, and the audience is left to assume that everyone is actually speaking English whenever the boys are involved – except the novel does nothing to explain why two 16-year-old German girls would be able to express themselves so effortlessly in a foreign language. (Remember, the internet was not a thing, so German kids were not exposed to the same amount of English in everyday life as they are these days.) It would have been easy to make one of them a language nerd who gets straight A’s in English class, and give the other a British parent and make them bilingual. Instead, Katharina initially even worries about the prospect of having to talk to boys at all, and in English on top of that! But when she actually does, the language barrier never comes up again. The suspension of disbelief expected from the reader is therefore immense. The language barrier also gives the author an easy way out when it comes to imitating the way the boys speak in real life – there is no need to take into account idiolects or regional differences (such as ‘you guys’ vs. ‘y’all’) if the boys’ speech is essentially translated into a foreign language. However, I wanted to give you guys (or y’all, if you will) a taste of how Keller attempts to write a scene where AJ and Nick discuss the latter’s crush on Katharina:

I would argue that this sounds realistic enough for what it’s worth, if a little cheesy, which is excusable in this genre. Perhaps a true 90s BSB fan would beg to differ, so if you happen to be one, feel free to drop me a message. But in my semi-professional opinion, this most likely holds up for readers.

So, to answer the initial question that drove me to purchase this book: Do fan novels like Mein Frühling mit Nick count as fanfiction?

If we assume that something is only a fanfic if the author themselves is a fan of the subject matter, then I would argue no, Maxi Keller is probably not a fan themselves and therefore this work of for-profit real-person fiction does not qualify as fanfic. However, fan novels definitely have a (however small) place in the history of fan culture and fan-adjacent works, and I personally found reading this relic both entertaining and insightful!

[lifblogs]

#SPNDBCC | Hunting | @foundfamily4eva

READ ON AO3

“Well, that’ll be our missing girl,” Jody commented, referring to the dead body in front of her and Sam.

Sam grimaced, and then took a step closer.

The body itself was tied to a tree with a thin, but strong, wire around the neck, and the head had been bashed in. The throat had been slit as well. The body had slumped, legs having gone limp, and the head hung forward at a disturbing angle. Blood was everywhere.

He leaned down, examining the head.

“The skull’s cracked,” he noticed.

“Any brain matter?”

He winced. “Yeah.”

She stepped forward now, going to examine the body. She covered her mouth and nose as she leaned in. As sheriff she probably didn’t see as many bodies as forensics did, though Sam knew she liked to get out in the field, especially when it came to hunting.

“This poor girl,” Jody commented. “Someone really wanted her dead. You seen anything like this before, Sam?”

“I was actually going to ask you the same thing.”

Jody just lifted her head and stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief.

“What? This is your jurisdiction,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but we don’t find dead bodies that look like a serial killer got to them” she argued. She shook her head, and started trekking up the grassy hill. “I gotta call this in.”

Sam searched around the area, looking for hex bags, or anything, testing for EMF. He found nothing, except for a footprint. It was small, probably from a woman.

Jody finished calling a forensics team and a few deputies, and Sam said, “Hey, I think I found something!”

She went back over to him, and Sam pointed out the footprint that was behind the tree.

“So not a ghost,” she said.

“Yeah, they can’t leave that kind of mark.”

“Could we be looking at a person?”

Sam grimaced, and turned to the dead body again. “Maybe.”

~~~

Research. Always research. Sam was having a difficult time with it because he truly hadn’t seen this before. Throat slashed, strangled, head bashed in… It felt like a new kind of messed up, especially since the killer could be a human.

He wondered which wound had killed the girl. All three of them could’ve done the job.

For now, Jody was at the sheriff’s station, searching through case files from before her appointment as sheriff. She’d call him if she found anything.

Sam sat at the rickety table in his motel room, laptop out in front of him. He had a multitude of links open, and at the moment, he was digging deep, using a search engine that wouldn’t alert anyone or be saved on the laptop’s history. Besides, it wasn’t as if Google would give him answers about someone getting violently murdered.

He didn’t have any ideas either. What could this thing even be?

“Human,” he muttered to himself. “Human…”

Could be a sacrifice.

With that in mind, he was able to make his research a little more specific. It took an hour, least, but he managed to find something. It wasn’t much, just a picture tucked away in an online copy of a very old book, a description underneath.

Sam frowned, examining the picture again. The renderings weren’t realistic, of course, having come from a time where the art styles were still being figured out. It was before the Renaissance. The book itself was at least a century old, so Sam wasn’t sure he trusted the source.

He searched the description attached to the image.

His phone started ringing.

“Hello,” he answered after hitting the green arrow and putting the phone to his ear.

“Sam, I found something.”

“I think I did too. You first.”

“So there were deaths like these fifty years ago.”

“Crap, that long?”

“And aside from that, there hasn’t been anything else. There were nine like it, all victims killed in the same way. Of course, the records aren’t as detailed as they would’ve been now, but it’s something. Could we be dealing with a copy cat killer?”

Sam shook his head, bewildered. “It would’ve had to be someone who knew about all this. I kind of doubt it.”

“Alright, what’d you find?”

“So I couldn’t find anything at first,” he explained, going back to the image. “But it looks like we’re dealing with a sacrifice.” Sam thought he could hear Jody wince on the other end of the phone. “Yeah,” he commented. “Um… I’m gonna hit the library, see what I can find.”

“I’ll look into public records.”

“Good idea. Reconvene in an hour?”

“It’s a date.”

Sam smiled, loving that he was working with Jody on this despite the horrors they were dealing with. It had been way too long since he’d seen Jody. Besides, he’d needed to get out. Dean and Castiel were dealing with the Mark, and Sam, who always felt anxious and just a little terrified around his brother now, had desperately needed something to drag him away from all that.

He grabbed his laptop, and his notes, and stuffed them into a satchel, and then he was on his way.

~~~

The first thing Jody did was search through the list of names she’d gotten from the old police file.

“Carter O’Connell,” she mused as she stood on a ladder and dug through a set of old files. She found the manilla folder with his information. There wouldn’t be much since this was before computer records, but it was worth something. It’d have his full name, age, family members, social security number, address, and history of work.

She climbed off the ladder, and brought the file with her. She went to look at the archival cards. The cabinets that stored them were a dark brown, and covered in dust. She blew the dust away, quickly leaning back to avoid breathing it in.

Jody put the file she’d found on top, and started searching.

“Ha!” she cried, as she found where the next previous victim’s file could be found. 

It was annoying that she had to do this, but she’d already looked through the file of the girl they’d found, and she couldn’t find anything of note. But maybe with more information she and Sam could make some sort of connection.

Jody went to go get the next file.

~~~

At the library, after taking a lot of books out that led to more books due to the information he found and wrote down, Sam ended up looking at a small shelf in the mythology section. The book he grabbed now was on Celtic mythology, druids and sacrifice.

As he read he realized that druids had committed some human sacrifices, except it had been rare. Searching through the index led him to a part of the thick book on beings called daraich. Sam found the page, right near the end of the book, and started to read.

He frowned as he read.

According to historical evidence, there was a subset of druids known as the daraich (singular: darach). The word druid translates to “knower of the oak,” or “wise oak.” Darach itself does not have a disturbing meaning at the present date, though for centuries it translated to “dark oak,” with the prefix of the word “da-” meaning “dark.”

Sam immediately took notes, underlining the word “DARACH” and then writing underneath it, “dark druid.” The text hadn’t specifically said that, but “wise oak,” being turned into “dark oak” was all the information he needed.

He searched through the book some more, and stopped on a disturbing artist’s rendition of the ritual sacrifice. It wasn’t exact, though the tapestry that the picture in the book was of showed the same injuries as the ones they’d found on that girl. Bruises around the neck from strangulation, blood leaking from the head, and blood coming from the throat.

The description underneath the image described that the dark druids would commit violent sacrifices in order to gain power.

This led Sam to reading the entire page.

While the deaths themselves were thought to grant power as someone’s lifeblood was spilled out, the word “sacrifice” in primary sources suggests that it was an offering to a deity. “Sacrifice,” when looking at the Latin translation as sacrificium, means, “Something of meaning offered up to a deity.” This is relevant due to the many definitions of sacrifice pointing to a relationship between the person committing the sacrifice, and the deity, along with the Roman invasion of Celtic territories at around 1000 BC.

The druids themselves did commit human sacrifices during their Iron Age, but the acts were later condemned. Instead, they would offer up animals, weapons, and food. Due to the nature of druidism having a close connection to the natural energies of the life of the earth, the deities were thought to be in the spirit of the world itself. More specifically, lakes, and trees, and growing things.

This belief falls to the wayside as deities are accepted as beings rather than things or places.

To understand the sacrifices, one must first understand the nature of the Celtic beliefs. Possibly as early as the year 500 BC, the celts believed in sacred beings that could walk the earth, or inhabited what was known as the “Otherworld.” The sacrifice of life was attributed to a triad of these beings, a triad of sacrificial entities: Taranis, Esus, and Toutatis. These were deities of strength and power. Sacrificing to them was thought to create strength in the person committing the sacrifices.

Primarily, the sacrifices were animals, with the druidic idea that the blood would please these gods. Yet when the subset of dark druids came into being, these sacrifices turned gory, with the sacrificial victims being humans. Supposedly, the human sacrifices granted greater strength, and even powers from the Otherworld. Typically, these sacrifices would be committed preceding a war, or a battle. With the creation of the daraich (plural form of the word “darach”), to appease the triad of deities they most closely worshipped and were thought to communicate with, victims were sacrificed with what is called a threefold death. Early accounts describe this as victims being slaughtered violently, the three actions taken against them each having the ability to kill them.

Accounts of the deaths committed by the daraich describe the threefold death to this triad of deities. Evidence from an early translation: “The head must be struck, the throat pierced [slashed or cut], and the breaths must be taken.” This last act suggests strangulation. Victims of this sacrificial ritual would be found with three wounds that could have each been the cause of death: the head bashed in, throat cut, and strangulation, typically done with a garotte.

The druids condemned these acts and sought to—

Sam stopped reading. He’d been steadily taken notes as he’d done so, and now he looked at what he’d compiled, satisfied.

He called Jody.

~~~

Jody sat at a table, the files around her. She was beginning to find a connection the the old victims. They all had had some position of authority. A police officer, teachers, parents, soldiers, even a government official. Perhaps the connection was weak, but it was the only one she could find.

Her phone started ringing, and she answered. “Yep.”

“We’re dealing with a darach,” Sam said, forgoing a greeting.

“A what?”

“A darach. It translates to ‘dark oak,’ and was a subset of druids. The meaning of druid is ‘wise oak,’ so a dark oak—”

“Is a dark druid,” Jody finished.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“So they sacrifice people?” she asked.

“Yes, committing what was known as the threefold death.”

Jody sat and thought. “So that’s what we’re looking at here. All the files I dug up described the deaths as the same, and that poor girl we found…” She shook her head. “Sam, how do we even deal with this? And why would someone do that?”

“Usually the daraich would do this predating a battle.”

“But there’s no battle coming up.”

“There could be,” Sam said. “Who do we know of that’s becoming violent and might turn into a demon again?”

“Shit, that could be related?”

“We’ve run into other creatures who have tried to protect themselves from more powerful beings in the past.”

Jody sighed, taking this information in. Then, she informed Sam, “I found a connection between the victims. All authority figures.”

“Wait, then what about the girl?”

“After asking around, I found out that she was a babysitter. I didn’t think it was important at the time, but—”

“She had power over someone.”

“Exactly. Sam, how do we kill this thing?”

There was pause, and then Sam cleared his throat, explaining, “We have to burn them.”

“Huh, thought it’d be harder.”

“Daraich have powers.”

And… there it was. “Fuck.”

Sam heaved in a breath, and let it out, sounding frustrated, and maybe a little worried. “Yeah.”

Jody’s walkie blinked with a red light, and Jody said, “Hold on, Sam. I gotta go.”

“Come in, Sheriff Mills. Come in. Over.”

She pressed the button to allow herself to talk. “Standby. Go ahead. Over.”

“We got a 187 over here. Over.”

“Say again?” Jody asked, standing. She hadn’t realized there would be another victim so soon.

“187. Body mutilated. Over.”

“Roger that. Where’s the body? Over.”

Jody was given the location. “Affirmative. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. Over and out.”

Immediately, she called Sam, “Sam, we got another one.”

~~~

When they got to the crime scene, there were already had a few deputies there, and forensics were showing up to swarm the place, doing their job with vigorous detail.

Sam felt sick as he looked at the body.

“Do we know who it is?” he asked Jody.

“Used to babysit him as a kid,” she let him know. “Heard that he moved back here, and became a high school teacher after college.” Jody was teary-eyed as she looked at Sam. “I don’t want to see any more of my people killed. What do we do?”

“I have an idea.”

“What is it?”

Sam frowned, and then winced. He ran a hand through his hair, and then over his face. He let out a frustrated, and discontented growl.

“Sam, tell me.”

Sam heaved in a deep breath, and then said, voice rough as it came out, “How do you feel about being bait?”

~~~

Rain poured down on Jody, and she raised her hands to grip at the cord that had gone around her neck, securing her to the oak tree, even as it strangled her.

She kicked feebly. The cord cut through her hands. A choked out cry left her, and then she tried to gasp in air. It wouldn’t come in.

Sam. Where was Sam?

He’ll be here. He has to be.

“Your friend won’t be coming,” the darach murmured, the voice of a woman.

No. No.

Jody wanted to ask why, but she couldn’t get air in. Was this how she was going to die?

~~~

Sam groaned, his head aching and throbbing fiercely. Blood had trickled into his right eye, and had nearly made its way inside his air. The cut on his injured head was large, and the blood had even soaked into his air. The darach had hit him with a rock, and now it was all coming back to him.

Rain was cleaning the blood off, even while it soaked Sam all the way down to his skin.

He got up, nearly slipped in the mud, and then leaned against a tree.

“Jody…” he rasped.

Dizzy, he picked up the flamethrower he had with him, and then started to run, slipping a great deal on the wet ground, to where they’d left Jody as bait.

He slid down a hill, having thrown himself down it on his back, giving up on walking down that; he would’ve fallen. Sam clambered to his feet once at the bottom, and he blinked blood out of his eyes.

There she was, tied to that tree with the very weapon being used to kill her.

“Hey!” Sam cried.

The darach hissed in some kind of frustration, and then it released the garotte.

Jody gasped, and coughed, but then collapsed to the ground, mud splattering on her cheek.

She didn’t get up. But he knew she was alive. Just unconscious.

Sam came forward as the darach stepped towards him, and he raised the flamethrower. He could barely see in the dark, but he was sure that shadow was the darach raising its hand. A fierce pain took hold of Sam’s body, even as a choking, poisoned wind swept towards him and into his lungs. It went through his throat, his nose, even as his body felt like his bones were splintering.

Sam fell, screaming in agony.

Fight through it, Sam. Fight it.

Jody groaned and shifted on the ground, and the darach turned its power on her. She screamed herself into unconsciousness.

Sam trembled, body in shock as it remembered the pain, but he clambered to his feet, and he ran, putting himself nearly right in front of the darach.

“Say hi to your gods for me, bitch,” he said, pressing the trigger on the flamethrower.

The darach’s screams and wails as it went up in flames were high-pitched, seeming to pierce his eardrums. Sam didn’t let up until it fell to the ground, its body a charred crisp.

He breathed hard, and almost fell, still hurting from his head. He turned, and saw Jody trying to move again. He went to her, getting on his knees.

“Did you do it?” she croaked out.

He held her, and she held him. Was that blood from her palms seeping into his jacket?

“Yeah, I did it,” he assured. “All thanks to you.”

“Glad you could recognize my hard work.”

Sam clapped her on the back, and pulled her closer. “Anytime, Jody.”

He helped her up, and together they stumbled out of the woods, Jody kicking the body of the darach for good measure as they passed it. They made it to the Impala, then to Sioux Falls General Hospital. As they sat in the waiting room, Sam with a hand on Jody’s knee that she was bouncing up and down, she looked at him, and smiled.

“I’m really glad we were able to save people from dying,” she told him.

“Hey, it’s part of the job.”

She leaned into him, as a mother would a child, and Sam grinned despite how out of it he felt and how much he hurt.

“And it feels damn good.”

“It sure as hell does.”

[mass-effect-tales]

Memories

Ryder sighed as she looked through her father's computer. She didn't even know what she was looking for, she was trying to find something to do while the Tempest was going through maintenance. A cup of coffee was placed next to her and she looked up to see Cora giving her a smile with her own cup in her hand.

"Thought you could use a pick me up. Find anything useful?"

Ryder smiled and took a sip of her coffee. She was grateful for Cora being there for her between the death of her dad and Scott still in a coma. 

"Unfortunately no, just information on the golden worlds and his plans for when we reached the Nexus. Though I found a folder that I couldn't access. I'm having SAM try and open it right now."

Cora nodded as she sat down next to Ryder and looked at the screen as SAM worked on decrypting the mystery folder. 

Ryder had unlocked a few of her father's memories yet she didn't feel like she understood her father at all. She was pulled from her thoughts when the computer beeped and the folder opened to a list of vid files.

"Ryder, I have unlocked the folder. It seems to be a library of vids dated from before the Hyperion's voyage all the way back to 2163"

SAM's voice echoed through the room as Ryder scrolled through the vids. The vids were titled with simple words like "play" or "art". Her finger hovered over a vid titled "Sara dig". Confused she clicked on the vid and a vid screen popped up.

An image of Ryder adjusts the camera before she sits down. Even though she's covered in dirt she is grinning.

"Hey dad, hope you're doing well. We just finished for the day but we're making progress! We found something dad! I don't know what it is yet but it looks incredible!"

Ryder's eyes widened as the video played. She knew exactly what that video was.

"That's the vid I sent dad after my first dig...I didn't think he saved it…"

She scrolled through the list and clicked a vid called "storytime".

Two children could be heard giggling behind the closed door. The camera shifted as the holder opened the door and zoomed in on Alec sitting on a chair between two little beds.

"Then the Krogan charged at me and I had to roll out of the way or he would have squashed me against the wall."

The two children giggled in their beds as a woman's voice laughed behind the camera.

"Is he telling you the Krogan story again?"

Cora looked at Ryder when she heard her sniffle.

"Are you alright Sara?"

Sara nodded as she looked through the list of vids.

"I didn't think dad would have these. He rarely came to our school events or graduation so I just thought…"

She trailed off when she saw a vid titled "graduation".

"Did he…"

She clicked the vid.

The screen shook as the camera holder sped down a flight of stairs and into a crowd of people. A voice over a microphone could be heard calling names as the camera holder looked around.

"Alec! Over here!"

The camera turned to show Ellen smiling and waving him over.

"I didn't miss them did I? We're taking off in half an hour."

Ellen shook her head and pointed to the stage as the camera turned and zoomed in on Sara and Scott dressed in a cap and gown.

"Next, Sara Ryder!"

Ellen clapped and cheered as Ryder walked up the stage to accept her diploma. She smiled brightly and looked out on the crowd, looking for her parents. 

"Over here Sara!"

A tear rolled down Sara's cheek and her lower lip trembled. She felt Cora place a hand on her shoulder and she let her pull her into a comforting hug.

"He was there. I didn't see him but he was there."

[motivationalfitness88]

I'm just the messenger... But here you go....

I’ve been researching this crap for awhile...The FBI uncovered a sex trafficking ring in Boystown, right outside of Omaha Ne. That was back in the late 80’s early 90’s when Barney Franks was a Senator. The FBI field director’s name was run into the ground , he was forced out of the FBI, and eventually was suicided.

Pizzagate is real.

It isn’t some conspiracy theory.

It's real. It’s always been real. And you can’t convince me otherwise.

If you think the Wayfair Stuff makes you sick, then wait.

Because what you’re seeing is just a small piece to a HUGE puzzle.

This runs deep.

People laughed at Pizzagate…. They aren’t laughing anymore.

Human trafficking is real.

It’s one of the classes you take when you’re fostering/adopting. It’s at least 4 hours.

Elite paedophilia is real. Organ harvesting is real.

It’s not a new phenomenon. It’s not something that just started. It’s been going on for YEARS.

It’s not something that is just going on in the US. It’s happening all over the world.

It involves Hollywood. It involves politicians on both sides. It involves the Rich. People you look up to are involved.

And I get it. It’s hard to wrap your head around what’s going on. It’s hard to imagine something so dark and disgusting going on right under your nose.

It’s hard to imagine something so evil is happening to our children.

It’s easy to laugh it off as some conspiracy theory.

Oh no, not my favourite actor, singer, or politician. Oh no, not Hillary. She can’t be involved. She was going to save us from Trump.

The international Labor Organisation estimates 40.3 MILLION human trafficking victims GLOBALLY.

If you think this is still a hoax or don’t want to come to terms with the fact that an Elite Paedophilia ring exists, ask yourself this:

⭐️Everyone knew about Epstein and his love for underage girls.

⭐️People were calling Little Saint James "Paedophile Island" since Epstein purchased the island in 1998.

⭐️With that knowledge, why did Bill Clinton and Obama visit Epstein’s paedophile Island? Multiple times?

⭐️Why did the locals report seeing dozens of young kids being taken across there for years?

⭐️Why was Bill Gates a regular visitor there?

⭐️Prince Andrew…. Do I need to say more and why is The Queen going around threatening anyone to run the story if it’s not true?

⭐️You mean to tell me that all these prominent men and women went to this paedophile island for one big party? Knowing what they knew about him? It wasn’t a secret.

⭐️What was Epstein using the underground tunnels for?

⭐️Who was Ghislaine Maxwell?

⭐️Did you know she owned a submarine company?

⭐️Did you know she has her sub pilot license?

What could she possibly need a submarine pilot license for?

⭐️Did you know that yachts with submarines were used to transport kidnapped children from Haiti to Epstein's paedophile Island?

⭐️What about Laura Silsby? The woman who was tried in Haiti for trying to sneak and KIDNAP 30 children to bring them to the US. Clinton’s used executive order to bring her back without being charged.

⭐️The kicker…… guess who changed their legal name and is in charge of amber alert— Laura Silsby… but let’s not mention that…. People who dig down that hole end up dying….

⭐️Did you know the TerraMar project was founded by Clinton Foundation and was located in the Lynn De Rothschild property in Manhattan?

⭐️Chelsea Clinton and Ghislaine are reported to be very close and actually vacationed together. You mean to tell me that Chelsea didn’t know about Ghislaine?

⭐️Remember when Chelsea’s wedding was paid for with money that was supposed to feed starving Haitian children?

⭐️Why did Hillary put Ghislaine’s nephew in charge of key Middle East policy decisions when she ran the State Department? You know… the one overseeing US/Libya policy that got an ambassador killed.

⭐️What about the Podesta Emails?

⭐️What was up with John and Tony Podesta’s artwork?

⭐️Would you own any of that creepy “art”?

⭐️Why would Obama buy $65,000 worth of tax payers money to have hot dogs fly in from Chicago for a private party?

⭐️Did you know that hotdog is an FBI code word for young boys?

⭐️Who is James Alefantis?

⭐️A pizza restaurant owner in DC. Who happens to be named one of the most powerful people in DC-A pizza place? A man that owns a children's pizza place? A man that has close ties with the Clinton's, Obama, Epstein and many more?

⭐️Have you seen his Instagram? Oh you probably haven’t… you’re just now looking into everything.

⭐️Have you looked up the art that is in his pizza place?

⭐️You want your kids seeing that stuff?

⭐️What about the dark web login to get into his site and order pizza that cost thousands of dollars? Oh wait… that was taken down.

⭐️What is a pizza place owner doing communicating with the White House?

⭐️What about the Hollywood actor that walked into comet pizza and shot at a locked closet door? The same closet that housed his computer which ended up with a bullet through the hard drive? Odd.

⭐️What about Anthony Weiner? All the emails found on his laptop?

⭐️You mean to tell me that his wife, Huma Abedin, had no knowledge of what was going on?

⭐️Huma and her friend Hillary had NO clue about this 15 year old girl?

⭐️What about the folder titled “Life Insurance”?

⭐️You know the one that housed the now famous videos titled "Frazzledrip" with Huma and Hillary. You want nightmares, read about those videos!!

⭐️The same Huma and Hillary who 9 NYPD have “committed” suicide after watching a horrific video of them doing unspeakable things to little girl? The same NYPD who threw up because what they saw was horrific?

⭐️Speaking of suicide, why have 57 former colleagues and associated ended up dead in the past 30 years? 15 have died of suicide. 8 died in a plane, car, or motorcycle accident and 14 have been found mysteriously murdered. All of these people had info that could have potentially hurt the Clinton's career. I don’t even have 57 friends 😂😂 let alone know 57 people that I need to add to a hit list.

⭐️Why is James Comey’s daughter the lead prosecutor on the Epstein sex trafficking case?

⭐️Former CEO of Reddit, Ellen Pao admitted they Knew Ghislaine supplied underage girls for Epstein and his pedo buddies?

⭐️The Norwegian Royal Family implicated in Epstein Scandal? Why? Not surprising considering Prince Andrew.

⭐️What about Oprah’s mentor? John of God and Weinstein. You mean to tell me Oprah didn’t know? Come on nowww...

⭐️Have you even heard of the NXIVM case? They were just running a sex cult where Smallville actress, Allison Mack was arrested and indicted on federal charges related to sex trafficking.

⭐️The McMartin Preschool. The Franklin Cover up. Seth Rich. Isaac Kappy. Boystown. The Finders. The list goes on and on...

⭐️Denish Hastert…. Do you know him? You should. Good buddies with Podesta….

⭐️Robert Menendez. Mike Folmer. Prominent democratic donor, Terry Bean. David Byrd. George Byrd. All known prominent paedophiles.

Why don’t we hear more about Biden’s Island? Very close to Epstein’s Island.

The Podesta brothers were known suspect’s years ago when little Madeline McCain was stolen from her parent’s hotel while on vacation.

What ever happened to her?

This doesn’t even cover a quarter of what is going on. This is so much more than Epstein. It’s so much more than Ghislaine. This runs deep and you’re going to be shocked at the ending.

I’m not interested in hypotheticals, rumours or factless connections.

Everything. Everything ties together. Everything is connected.

So while others are more concerned about COVID, I’m more concerned about saving our children. Aren't you?

Pass it on... if you believe one scintilla of the above before the Facebook police get rid of it...

[less-than-hash]

A Lot to Process

I haven’t been making games lately, but that doesn’t mean I’ve not been writing. I took off at the beginning of the year to work on my prose fiction, finished drafting a novel provisionally titled These Subtle Games back in March, and finished revising it and began querying it last month. It’s a contemporary occult fantasy set in Boston, following a nonbinary game developer investigating the untimely and mysterious demise of her mentor, only to find herself drawn into a morass of conspiratorial cabals, mystical mobsters, and misogynist massholes - not to mention a sprawling hidden ARG that may or may not contain the secrets of New England cunning magic.

It’s basically autobiography.

In the meantime, I’ve begun writing a new novel, an industrial fantasy set in a world of sprawling empires both challenged and propped up by powerful mercantile houses and an aggressively expansionist church ruled by wizards. I found that the process I stumbled through in developing and writing These Subtle Games - a process that, despite the differences in media, grew out of my experience creating games - worked really well for me, so I’ve been following a more refined version for the new novel with similarly positive results. Furthermore, I’ve already begun applying it to a potential sequel to TSG. With Novelember coming up, I figured I’d share a little of that process with you.

The goals of my writing process are twofold: 

To apply some level of organization to my work, lest it follow in the footsteps of my first novel, which was basically “write until you’re done writing, and now you’ve got 141,000 words of experimental weirdness.”

To allow a lot of flexibility, preventing said organization from stifling my creativity. 

Details below the cut.

PRE-PRODUCTION, aka Background, Research, and Planning

I spend a lot of time with the concept for a novel (or a conversation in a game) before I begin writing anything that’ll make it into even the rough draft. Note that I didn’t use the “before I put pen to paper” metaphor here, because I do a lot of writing at this stage. Much of this is simple note-taking, whether on research or on ideas. I do a fair amount of this in an actual notebook, often because I’m off somewhere away from my computer.

Because this phase generally overlaps with the late phases of a previous project, and when I’m actually at my computer I’m generally working on the older piece. I was in this phase for Hidden Sanctum while recording VO for Seeker, Slayer, Survivor, for example, and for These Subtle Games while wrapping up my work on the Deadfire expansions.

I like to overlap projects like this for a few reasons:

It allows me to move smoothly from active work on one project to the next.

It engages a different part of my mind than drafting prose, keeping me fresh.

Because I spend a lot of time exploring an idea, it helps me determine whether or not I think the idea’s strong enough to sustain me through a project.

Things I do while planning:

Read extensively. I read work in the same vein or genre as the work I’m intending to write. In preparation for Deadfire, for example, I read The Gentleman Bastards books by Scott Lynch, Uprooted by Naomi Novik, and Kings of the Wyld by Nicholas Eames. Prior to starting work on These Subtle Games I read  Procession of the Dead by Darren Shan, War in Heaven by Charles Williams, Hardboiled Wonderland and the End of the World by Haruki Murakami, Our Lady of Darkness by Fritz Lieber, Conversion by Katherine Howe, the Atlanta Burns books by Chuck Wendig,  A Discovery of Witches by Deborah Harkness, and Himself by Jess Kidd, among others. Before beginning the current novel, I read Shadow and Bone by Leigh Bardugo, The Incorruptibles by John Horner Jacobs, Prince of Thieves by Chuck Hogan, and Perdido Street Station by China Miéville, among other works. These are books I read specifically because I planned to do work in similar spaces. I approach these books analytically to get a sense of what’s been done before, as well as what might and might not work from a structural or stylistic standpoint. What I want to do and what I want to avoid.  Nor do I limit myself to books. As part of my pre-production for my current project I watched Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, Les Miserable, L’Empereur de Paris, The Age of Innocence, and Carnival Row, as well as replaying parts of the Dishonored games. I also made myself a music playlist, the heart of which is Postmodern Jukebox’s cover of “Welcome to the Black Parade.”

Research broadly. I’m less of the school that one should write what they know than that they should know what they write. I generally write fantastic works, but without an understanding of matters related to the fantasy, the product feels hollow. This can include research into the history of sail and piracy, for example, or military technology, or fashion. For These Subtle Games I read numerous books on New England folklore and cunning folk, as well as on witch trials, both in Salem and globally. I read a lot about Harvard’s study of psychedelics, including Michael Pollan’s How to Change Your Mind. I also did a tremendous amount of deeply unpleasant research into online harassment. At this point in the process, I try to prioritize the forest for the trees (hence “broadly” above). I don’t need to know every maritime term to plot content set on a sailing vessel, I just need to know the broad strokes of how ships work, how the crew lives, and how that might impact someone living on the sea. My current project required a fair amount of exploration of subjects as diverse as industrial era mill towns, the history of the American and French revolutions, and dinosaurs. While doing this research, I keep an eye out for things I find interesting that can inform my plot. I’d never heard of the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire, for example, but reading about it inspired a plot point in the current project. That said, I don’t feel like I need to be an expert at this stage on anything I hope to write about. I’m almost certainly going to discard ideas and discover new ones as I go along, and I’ll have to dig deep into things like boot styles and fishing vessels (to pick two subjects from yesterday’s writing) as I go.

Figure out what I want to say. Here I work to nail down the broadest themes I want to explore in a work. These usually arise from a combination of my research and reflecting on the things I find interesting about whatever I’m making the subject of my project. Initially These Subtle Games was titled The Quiet Game (a title already claimed by a murder mystery set in Massachusetts) because of its interest in secrets (as reflected in the secret societies of Boston, the NDAs of the games industry, and the arcana of ARGs like the Jejune Institute). The new novel examines colonialism, capitalism, and power, as well as what actions are justified when resisting an overwhelming force. The three DLC for Deadfire interrogate the relationships between the gods of Eora and their followers, the Watcher included. Defining this helps guide all of the work to come, providing a benchmark by which to judge the effectiveness of an idea, plot point, or piece of writing.

Build out the world. These Subtle Games is set in modern Boston and Deadfire in Eora, both worlds that were well-defined long before I began creating fiction set in them. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t spend time fleshing out the corners of those worlds I intended to work within. TSG required that I determine the form of a fictionalized Boston games industry, as well as the shape of the secret cultures that inform the action of the novel. For Deadfire, each piece of content, each world map event, and each DLC island is a little world of its own, with its own story that feeds back into the larger ideas of the game. (Of course, I wasn’t working in a vacuum, nor alone.)  The current project, set in a new fantasy world, required the creation of a rough geography and history, populated with peoples, nations, and faiths. I designed these not merely to have verisimilitude, but to feed into the goals of the work. In the case of the new project, that meant huge colonial powers jockeying for the dwindling unclaimed territories and their resources, vast trade companies conspiring to wrest power from the entrenched nobility, a clergy focused on enforcing the rule of the gods over every nation of the world, and several species of magically-crafted servitors provided curtailed rights when they’re afforded any freedom at all. Here, again, I prefer to take a diffuse approach. I can get by with the broad strokes, and leaving things undefined offers me more room to maneuver as I write. I personally also find it useful to gather art references at this stage. I have a folder of illustrations that suggest the mood and style of the world of the new project, for example. For These Subtle Games, I commissioned an illustration of my protagonist from the fantastic Katorius (below).

Sketch out the major characters. Generally by this point I’ve got ideas for at least a few of the characters, but before I start writing I want to have a strong sense of who each of those characters is. I generally write a few pages about the major players, their background, their attitudes, their role in the plot. This is worldbuilding, albeit with a narrowed focus, so the rules above apply: I try to keep things vague and flexible. I knew at this stage, for example, that These Subtle Games protagonist Laurie’s best work friend Meri grew up in California, and that if she lost her job, she might move back. That she was a surfer and played ska were details that came out in the writing. She also grew from being only moral support to providing occasional practical aid to Laurie, as well as coming to rely on Laurie in turn. Similarly, in the current project, the six characters the novel focuses on, something of a band of scoundrels, shifted over the course of development from their sketches. The relationship between two characters who are fugitives from the imperial government, for example, changed dramatically. Whereas they had been initially written as an inseparable pair, I found it much more interesting if they were on the outs after years of traveling and working together, adding (another) fracture in the crew’s interpersonal dynamics. I’ve talked before about how Vatnir went from being a charming con-artist to a grumpy reluctant messiah after I saw concept art for him. Similarly, I knew from my first moments with Serafen that he possesses no qualms about employing violence in the course of his work; the delineations, though, that he creates for himself regarding when violence is appropriate was something developed over the course of writing him.

Identify big tentpole moments. Here’s the first bit of actual plot work. At this point I’ve likely got ideas of notes I absolutely want to hit. I knew, for example, that I wanted Laurie, the protagonist of These Subtle Games, to discover an object late in the novel that redefines her relationship to her uncle and her understanding of his role in the mystery she’s unraveling. Inspired by the Triangle Shirtwaist Factory Fire, I knew I wanted the crew in the new project to be party to the inadvertent destruction of a textile mill, one made all the worse for its owners having locked the workers within. In both cases, these moments speak directly to the ideas I’m exploring in the work. Once I’ve identified a few of my tentpoles, I order them in a way that makes dramatic sense to me, and that gives me not an outline, exactly, but guideposts for the narrative. As mentioned so many times above, the goal is to provide myself guidance, not to hem myself in or nail down every plot point.

Once I’m relatively comfortable with my sense of where I’m taking a work, I begin writing what I call my “plot doc.”

PRE-ALPHA, aka The Plot Doc

I don’t generally outline my work. I go from the extremely rough tentpole step mentioned above into a kind of extremely rough draft I call my plot doc. These provide the skeleton and heart of the novel onto which I can layer the muscle and flesh of actual writing. The plot doc is pretty long - the one for These Subtle Games was 49,000 words, about half the length of the finished novel. The plot doc for the current project weighs in at 31,000 words. 

Almost none of these words will end up in the actual book as-is. 

I care very little about the state of the writing at this step. Here I’m exploring the plot and the characters, drafting out how they go from tentpole to tentpole, figuring out what in the narrative works and hopefully identifying what doesn’t. I find where I’ve failed to establish needed details in my worldbuilding and further define my characters.

This step actually developed directly from my work in narrative design. Generally I (like many of the narrative designers I know) stub out a branching conversation before writing it, creating a kind of detailed outline (where everything is written with the same lack of polish as the LRs pictured in my post about interjections). This lets us establish the flow of the conversation, plot its structure without having to worry too much about details of style, and hopefully locate any holes or major bugs prior to fleshing out the file. Generally the text in stubs would be difficult to mistake for shippable writing. 

I personally find stubbing out conversations useful because I think differently during the mechanical work of structuring files than I do during the artistic work of crafting dialog and prose. I’ve found a similar division of labor incredibly useful when crafting plot. It relieves a lot of the pressure of writing, too. I don’t have to worry about both building a functional plot and writing enticing prose. Because I’m going to be the only person ever reading the plot doc.

(Unless, of course, I do something ridiculous like share pieces of it on my tumblr.)

Here’s an excerpt from the plot doc for These Subtle Games, which I’ll contrast with later versions below:

A car awaits her in Gloucester, and it brings her to Matthias’s house. It’s a sizable home, stone, and old, somewhat decrepit, even. Ivy climbs the turrets, and the copper roof has gone to streaked verdigris. He stands in the open door as she approaches, and she hugs him, grateful for the familiar, and he returns the gesture stiffly, patting her lightly on the back. He’s tall and rail thin, built much as she is, with a well-kept beard and receding hair. He feels old-fashioned to her, in a dressing gown and pajamas with warm, soft house shoes.

Hello, niece, he says.

Hello, uncle.

He offers her food, which she declines, and takes her to her room, just off the main room.

Ouch. It’s little more than stream of consciousness, just me getting the ideas out onto the page. Or 200 pages, in the case of this project.

ALPHA, aka The Rough Draft

Once I’ve completed the plot doc, I begin actually writing. I do this in a new file, referring to the plot doc for guidance as I go along. Often I do this a little inconsistently, letting myself write until I hit a lull before returning to the plot doc. That way the plot doc serves not merely a guiding role, but a motivating function.

The rough draft is the first actual composition I’m doing on the work, and much of it actually ends up in the finished version. I take significantly more time on each scene, on each sentence, trying to craft prose that breathes and dialog that feels real.

I also tend to be a bit loose and experimental at this stage. I play around, writing things that I find interesting to read. If I find myself weighing style against readability, I generally err on the side of style. I can clean shit up later.

Here’s the scene from before, taken from the rough draft:

The car Matthias hired lets Laurie off at the gate, which creaks opens on hydraulic pistons as she leaves her tip.

The driver nods towards the tree-lined darkness. “Hop back in, and I’ll run you up. Real door to door service. If you’d like.”

Having relaxed at an exponential rate with each mile she put between herself and the city, Laurie shakes her head with a faint smile. “I could use the walk.”

“You don’t think you’re fat, do you?” His gaze flits the length of her from knees to shoulders, efficiently dispelling the enchantment worked by the commuter rail ride through the dense New England night.

“What? No.”

“Because you’re a beanpole. Almost too skinny, if you ask me.”

She hadn’t. “That’s not what I meant. Just, I want to clear my head, thanks.”

He leaves her to it, and she walks up the curling drive towards the old stone Victorian. The curtained windows glow faintly from within, and warm lamps jut from the quoins. Sprawling ivy climbs the turrets, and rooftop copper has long given way to white-streaked verdigris. Matthias’s is a stately home, but aging, much like the man himself. He meets her at the door in a dressing gown over fine silk pajamas and plush slippers. Her uncle stands as long and lanky as Laurie, with high cheekbones, a higher forehead, and a well-trimmed beard.

She greets him with a hug. She keeps it gentler than she might like, given his age. He’s never appeared frail, exactly, but his features profess a wary delicateness, as if he’d been crafted of pudding cloth and porcelain.

“Niece,” he says quietly, squeezing her shoulder.

“Uncle,” she answers. It’s an old ritual, and with it Laurie’s remaining fear falls away, abandoning her to her exhaustion.

He admits her to the house, the pair padding silently across polished marble past floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Matthias’s home gives the impression of being larger on the inside than the out, a space out of time, populated by statues of stone and painted ceramic. A grand piano dominates one corner, the instrument on which Esme had performed several family recitals during Thanksgiving gatherings past. At thirteen, Laurie’d lugged her hollow-bodied electric through two airports and two more trains to her uncle’s house. After Esme played, Laurie’d produced the guitar and performed a show of her own, all barre and power chords joined to lyrics roundly condemning the evils of industrial capitalism and hypocrisy of American evangelism in terms both suggestive and explicit. The gathered family had clapped politely enough, but she later overheard her father’s sister thank him for leaving the amplifier back in Carrboro.

Esme had told Laurie she’d loved it.

“Are you hungry?” Uncle Matthias asks her as they pass the sliding double doors to the dining room and the kitchen beyond.

She shakes her head. “I’m very full of food, but thank you.”

The scene’s significantly longer now, and I’ve further defined the driver, detailed the house, and defined aspects of Laurie’s relationship to it and her family. And hey, now it’s got quotation marks! 

Once I finish the rough draft, I celebrate a bit. Hey, I wrote a fucking novel! 

But I don’t share. I know I’m not happy with the work yet. I’m sure it’s riddled with grammatical errors. It’s probably got some questionable shifts in verb tense. It likely sports an inconsistency or six. I know I can do better, so I set out to do so.

BETA, aka The First and Second Revision

Here’s where the hard work of revision begins. I read the book, taking notes on things I’d like to change, then go through carefully, making both the changes I’d noted and performing close editing. I try to polish overwritten lines and clarify confusing sentences. I look for inconsistencies, especially when moving scenes around. 

Were this a conversation in a game, this would be the point I marked it for review by a lead or solicit feedback from QA and my fellow designers. Having done a revision or two on a book, I’m feeling pretty confident in what I’ve made, so I give it to any beta readers I’ve enlisted, that they might remind me that I do, in fact, have a long-ass way to go before it’s good. 

GOLD, aka The “Finished” Product

Once I’ve got feedback from my readers (and have perhaps let the book sit for a bit to work on pre-production for an upcoming project - or just played a shit-ton of Final Fantasy XIV...), I return to the novel or conversation to polish it further. 

At this point I’m looking to flesh out details, to make sure each sentence serves a purpose. To chop off unnecessary phrases and to make sure each interaction is bringing out the characters’ personalities. 

Here’s the fourth (and currently final) revision of the scene from above:

Matthias’s hired car deposits Laurie at his gate, a break in the thick stone wall that separates the street from her uncle’s plot of dense, quiet woods. Hickories and pines obscure the sky, swaying gently on a salted breeze off of the Atlantic. As Laurie tips the driver, a pair of heavy, wrought iron hinges creak open with the low hiss of hydraulic pistons.

The man nods towards the tree-lined darkness, his gray hair half-circumscribing his bald pate. “Hop back in, and I’ll run you up. Real door to door service. If you’d like.”

Having relaxed exponentially with each mile she put between herself and the city—a charm cast by the long commuter rail ride through the dense New England night—Laurie shakes her head. “I could use the walk.”

“You don’t think you’re fat, do you?” His gaze flits the length of her, from knees to shoulders, efficiently dispelling the enchantment.

“What? No.”

“Because you’re a beanpole. Almost too skinny, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.” Her fingernails bite her palms.

“Sure, suit yourself.” His window whispers back into place.

He pulls away, and she waits for his taillights to withdraw around the bend before walking the curled drive towards the old stone Victorian. The curtained windows glow faintly from within, and warm lamps jut from the quoins. Sprawling ivy climbs the turret, and rooftop copper has long given way to white-streaked verdigris. Matthias’s is a stately home but aging, not unlike the man himself. He meets her at the door in a dressing gown over fine silk pajamas and plush slippers. As long and lanky as his niece, Laurie’s uncle’s features add high cheekbones to a higher forehead and a well-trimmed beard.

She greets him with a gentle hug—gentler than she’d prefer, what with his age. He’s never struck her as frail, exactly, but his features profess a wary delicateness, as if he’d been crafted of pudding cloth and porcelain.

“Niece,” he says quietly, squeezing her shoulder.

“Uncle,” she answers. It’s an old ritual, and with it Laurie’s lingering fear falls away, abandoning her to her exhaustion. Her trapezius slackens beneath her uncle’s hand, her scapulae sinking as her frustration flows down her arms and through her twitching fingers. They flick the remnants away.

The pair pad silently across polished marble tiles past floor-to-ceiling mirrors. Matthias’s home gives the impression of being larger on the inside than the out, a space out of time, populated by statues of horses, deer, and dryads in stone and painted ceramic. A grand piano dominates one corner, an instrument on which Esme had performed a series of recitals following Thanksgiving dinners past. At thirteen, Laurie’d lugged her hollow-bodied electric through two airports and two more trains to her uncle’s house. After Esme played, Laurie’d produced the guitar and performed a show of her own, joining steely barre and power chords to lyrics condemning the evils of industrial capitalism and hypocrisy of American evangelism—in terms both suggestive and explicit. The family had clapped politely enough, but later she overheard her father’s sister thank him for leaving the amplifier back in Carrboro.

Esme, of course, had told Laurie she’d loved it. “Maybe my favorite song ever,” she’d said, the liar.

“Are you hungry?” Uncle Matthias asks her as they pass the sliding double doors to the dining room and the kitchen beyond.

Having stopped into a pizza joint on her way to North Station and walked out with a distended Styrofoam clamshell heavy with waffle fries drenched in cheese studded with olives, tomatoes, and jalapenos, she shakes her head. “I’m very full of food, but thank you.”

It’s not hugely different from the rough draft, but there’s a lot more detail, and the weaker phrases have been excised. Matthias no longer “admits her to the house,” for example, because it’s implied that she’s come in by the action. The details at the end about the waffle fries fill an inconsistency in the rough draft: originally Laurie’d eaten nothing that day, so why was she full here? (Deeply interesting, I know.) 

Laurie’s decision to snap back at the driver about his unasked for critique of her appearance was a result of beta reader feedback. The additional details about the decor in Matthias’s house subtly ties him to the locations of secret societies Laurie visits later in the book, details I’d not developed until the prior draft. The use of anatomical language to describe Laurie’s body reflects the character’s distance from it. She views it as something of an animate corpse she happens to inhabit rather than a core aspect of her self. Finally, Esme’s response is presented in dialog now, injecting her character into the scene and allowing the prose narration to reflect Laurie’s personality.

Nothing’s really done though. There are more hands for it to go through. Just as a game conversation undergoes changes suggested by QA, shifts in the recording booth, and may end up trimmed or entirely cut due to schedule and budget constraints or even to fix a nasty bug, a novel goes through several hands between the point where the author’s ready to query it and a publisher’s willing to put it on a shelf. But eventually you have to make the decision to be done with a piece, to mark it complete in JIRA and push it down the pipeline. 

Then you get to move on to whatever’s next. 

Cheers, <#

[sockdreams]

DIY: Spray Dye!

We've posted bunches of DIYs on dyeing your socks before, it's one of the most fun and easy ways to customize your sock drawer. But, we recently encountered a different way to dye, one that reminds us more of bleach stamping, thanks to it's stencil-ability: spray dye! It's way easier than vat or pot dyeing and super fun, so let's learn how to spray that dye!

Because we wanted to show the full range of possibility, I tried several different techniques: spraying on dry, spraying on damp, spraying on wet, and using smoothly textured stockings. What I learned is that there's a world of ways to mix and match techniques, so if you're interested in using spray dye, get ready to experiment! It's very fun but you'll want to test things out before working on that dream project. Luckily, I've tested some things for you, so you can go into your spray dye session with confidence!

First, here's what you'll need:

A work surface covered with newspaper (and I recommend laying down a plastic trash bag or something, THEN newspaper, for minimum mess). Be sure to really cover everything, you don't want any stray spray spattering things unwanted!

Simple designs to use as stencils. I used some printed-out clip art shapes—here's the sheet I used.

If your designs are on regular printer paper, you'll also want a sturdier piece of card, because it's gonna get soggy quick.

A craft blade to cut out your shapes and something safe to cut on.

Your spray dye, I'm using SEI Tumble Dye, picked up at a local craft store. Other dyes can be diluted and put into spray bottles as well, you'll want to read instructions on the dyes you use for best water-to-dye ratios.

Socks to dye! For science, I'm using a wide range: Extraordinary Thigh Highs, O Basics, Midcalf Woolies and the Opaque Nylon Stockings

Not shown: a place to lay out the socks to dry

Optional: a spray bottle of water

Optional: cardboard to put in the socks for less bleed-through

These spray dyes are pretty neat. I picked up a range of options, they were all under $5 each: two plain colours (Mint and Turquoise), two glitters (Silver and Gold) and a glow in the dark. The instructions are very clear on the packaging, you basically shake before using, spray and dye. They do also say "no gloves needed" but my fingertips ended up getting a bit dyed, so unless you're incredibly neat and way better at spritzing than I am, you may want gloves.

Spray dye on dry socks

I'll start with some Extraordinary Thigh Highs. To prevent excess bleed-through, I cut up an old shipping box into one long strip and slid the sock I was working on over it. It's a little tricky, but if you gather the sock up like you're putting it on a leg, you'll be good.

I cut out my stencil shapes, saving the cut out part to use as a reverse stencil. Simple shapes are good, both in making them easier to cut out and so the edges of the shape aren't lost from the texture of the sock or the dye bleeding.

Time to spray! The bottles were pretty easy to use, but some of the various types had a more stubborn spritzer. I found using both hands to squash the top down (and shaking the bottle regularly) helped a lot.

On a dry sock, the spray beads up a bit and is very "splashy" and airbrush-y, it's neat. I think it'd be really cool mixed with other surface design, like painting or stamping. Or . . . GLOW IN THE DARK DYE.

There's a faint colour to the glow in the dark dye (I'm pointing at it in the second half of the image above), but it's pretty subtle. It sort of blended into the Mint dye, so it's not very noticeable, which is rad. Surprise glow is the best glow. In later testing it seems like going super heavy on your spray by spraying close and several times makes for a better glowing shape.

Once I got one side looking how I wanted, it was time for the next! Having the cardboard inside made it very easy to flip and to hold by the edge so I could line up the splashes of colour. No matter what, you're going to have some "seams" on the sides of what you're spraying, but this helps break it up.

The end result isn't my favourite of the batch, but I am a fan of airbrushing and glow in the dark, so I still like 'em.

Wait, I take back what I said about which is my favourite. Because as soon as the lights are off, these socks ROCK. Please take this blurry, but vividly glowing image as proof of why. It's like  proof of Bigfoot's existence, only way more exciting:

DANG! I'm sold.

Spray dye on damp socks

This spray dye says it's particularly good for tie dye, so I knotted and folded up a pair of O Basics and misted them heavily with water. I followed that up with some heavy sprays of Turquoise and hit them again with water, hoping to encourage some colour spread.

The results seem far more subtle than regular tie-dying, as the socks were damp, not wet, so the dye only spread minimally, though misting the water made the edges soften.

The end result is like drifts of clouds, but I personally would stick with a vat or pot for tie dyeing myself, because I prefer long dye times that are easier to achieve when the thing you're dyeing is sitting in the dye, rather than your dye sitting on the thing you're dyeing.

I did try something else rad on this pair, but you gotta wait to the end of the post to really see it.

Spray dye on wet socks

Well, socks, what if we go full-wet? I got a pair of Midcalf Woolies fully soaked and wrung them out thoroughly. I then learned two things.

First, if you're going to work with very wet socks, putting plastic under them will make things a little neater while you're working. I grabbed an old shopping bag, which ended up being perfect because I flipped it after I sprayed one side, so the socks weren't sitting in little puddles of dye.

Second, wet wool sure has a smell I forget about.

I loosely folded the socks sort of accordion-style, to get organic stripes and then liberally spritzed them all over with the Mint dye. Then, using the Turquoise dye I started at the toes, aiming towards the cuffs of the socks, for a sort of gradient.

With this pair I used a "reverse stencil" by laying down a cut out star shape and spraying around it. I super love how this looks and it's partially why this pair is my favourite of the lot.

Also: stripes are the best. And the natural-off white colour of the wool yarn adds a depth to the dye colours I really am digging. Plus, this pair has a little surprise you can probably catch in the images above.

Spray dye on dry nylon stockings

Socks are rad, but when it comes to fine detail their texture keeps things rough. Like RIT, SEI Tumble Dye works across different fibers—from the cotton Extraordinaries and O Basics to the wool Midcalf Woolies. So I knew it'd work great on nylon. Most dyes love nylon. And the super fine and smooth texture of the Opaque Nylon Stockings just begs to be drawn and dyed on!

I went a bit wild with the stencils on this one, but also experimented with drips, not quite by choice (the stencils were getting pretty soggy, but I went with it). The more detailed flower stencil worked like a champ on these stockings!

The finished result is like something a mermaid hippie would be into and that makes me love them.

Tips, treats and wrapping up

Since this has been a more free-form DIY, the various things I noticed trying out this technique get to go here. More than any other surface design technique, spray dye is something you want to keep fiddling with. I'm already eyeballing one pair to hit with the spray again once I've typed this all up.

Lay flat to dry, for real

The instructions on the dye mention that hanging what you've dyed will encourage the dye to bleed downward. If that's not your jam, then lay everything flat to dry on a fresh surface of newspaper. Once everything is nice and dry, put them in the dryer for 20 minutes to heat set the colour.

Sturdier stencils, seriously

I thought I was being all wise, using mid-weight card stock for my stencils. Well, dampness laughs at such hubris. I recommend not using anything less sturdy than a file folder and maybe having a couple of each stenciled shape, so you can swap when they get over-damp. This is a stencil only one pair of socks in, already buckling under the wet.

I also recommend having rags or paper towels on hand to blot your stencils and wipe your hands. Dye will pool and build up on your stencils, making things a little risky when you remove them from your socks.

Watch those wrinkles!

If you're going for a smooth or more patterned look, really use a piece of cardboard inside the sock and make sure everything is nice and flat before you start spraying. The overall look of spray dye is sort of free form; but getting slashes of the sock's colour in the middle of a dyed area, because you forgot to smooth things out, might not be something you want. I still think the stockings this happened to me on look awesome, luckily.

GLITTER!!!

Astute readers may have noticed I mentioned glitter spray dye in my list up at the top and then never mentioned it again. That's because it was 100% the best thing about the spray dyes and I wanted to show off the sparkles. Even as it was making an epic mess on my workspace (they spray much more enthusiastically than the regular dyes), it was beautiful and shimmery.

It's not a heavy sparkle, but what it does do is add a fairy dusting to whatever you're spraying. It took everything in me not to coat all the socks with glitter dye. I did happily get the stockings and the wool socks with it (silver and gold, respectively) and I'm thrilled.

Heads up: we did notice the be-glittered socks shed a little bit of their shimmer onto our hands, but we're not sure what the long term lifespan of the glitter is for these.

Go forth and spray dye!

Like a lot of more free-form dye techniques, spray dye offers a lot of possibility and rewards experimentation. If you've been wanting to play with dye but don't want to mess with the vats and buckets and dipping and dunking, spray dye is a fun and accessible way to spice things up with a little colour. Test and try and keep playing and you'll end up with a pair of socks you love that you made look that awesome!

♥ Brenna Socks by Sock Dreams • Free Shipping in the US • $5 International Shipping Find us on facebook | twitter | pinterest | instagram | sock journal | g+

[sciencespies]

A Museum Curator Reports on Rapid-Response Collecting January 6 on Capitol Hill

https://sciencespies.com/history/a-museum-curator-reports-on-rapid-response-collecting-january-6-on-capitol-hill/

A Museum Curator Reports on Rapid-Response Collecting January 6 on Capitol Hill

Smithsonian Voices National Museum of American History

The Cold Morning of the Day After

February 5th, 2021, 11:18AM / BY Frank Blazich

On January 6, my wife and I watched the live news broadcasts in disbelief at the scenes unfolding on television, as a violent mob stormed the U.S. Capitol and interrupted the constitutionally mandated joint session of Congress presided over by the vice president to ratify the 2020 election results. Often curators like to hold off on collecting about an event until the weight of history can sift and settle; other times, we have to move quickly, or we’ll miss our chance.

On January 7, this was the farthest I could advance before reaching temporary fencing. National Guard troops were spaced every 10 to 20 paces. The shredded cover over the inaugural scaffolding was the primary indicator of what transpired the previous day.

Knowing that many objects from the day’s rally and attack on the U.S. Capitol would quickly be discarded, I volunteered to go down to the National Mall and see what I could find. With approval secured an hour later, I pulled together the usual COVID-era curatorial “field kit” for the morning’s work: tote bags, gloves, face mask, business cards, identification badge, and a mental list of imagery and objects I had seen in news footage the day prior.

As I parked along the National Mall around an hour later, I saw a scene before me of routine. Cleaning crews were hauling away bags of trash and walking the grounds picking up loose material. I could see the first protest signs sticking out of trash cans lining the emerald grass fields. My collecting approach was simple: save materials clearly related to the rally and the attack that followed. The materials, devoid of their creators and users, constituted little more than trash unless saved and contextualized. With time of the essence, however, I could not stop and analyze every item. Instead, I essentially skimmed through the mass of material to pluck out items related to the rally and to COVID-19, as well as related 2020 campaign materials.

Every potential item offered history, but also the risk of contamination. Collecting under “normal” circumstances is tricky enough, but now I contend with the danger of exposure to COVID-19. Suffice to say, I wore a new mask and carried half a dozen pairs of nitrile gloves. After placing the first few signs in the trunk of my car, I began walking toward the Capitol. I saw small business cards, handouts, and leaflets in the bushes, scattered along the ground or tossed in the trash. As news media provided live updates from the National Mall, nary a camera or person noticed the solitary individual wearing rubber gloves, a grocery tote in one hand and a pile of signs in the other, digging through the trash cans.

Crossing over Seventh Street SW, the protest-related paraphernalia increased in volume and variety. Before reaching Third Street SW, I could see two large signs leaning on a signpost. One read “OFF WITH THEIR HEADS – STOP THE STEAL,” while an adjacent sign, ripped from the post, featured a smoking skull with a blond toupee bearing a similar message, “STOP THE 2020 STEAL.” Scooping up the two aluminum signs, I crossed over the street past a row of Virginia State Police cruisers and entered the grass of Union Square just west of the Capitol Reflecting Pool.

The first large item to greet me? A wooden structure on its side with signs affixed to the base. A square piece of plywood read “THIS IS ART.” Graffiti from a variety of hands covered the legs and sides of what I recognized as gallows, sans noose. Unable to remove pieces of the structure, I opted for photographs of the graffiti, with Indiana, Kentucky, Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and Virginia referenced in ink amongst notes such as “Where are you Thomas Jefferson?! Revolution 2021!!!,” “hang the thieves,” “hang treason,” and “God Bless the USA.” A short distance ahead of me in front of the Capitol Reflecting Pool, a man waved the “Don’t Tread on Me” Gadsden flag, and exchanged curt comments with a few people seeking insight.

Walking around the pool on my way up to Capitol Hill, a line of Metropolitan police officers mingled with an array of law enforcement officials from Virginia and from assorted federal agencies. Reaching the Ulysses S. Grant Memorial, a small crowd of maybe 20 stood in front of temporary fencing. Across First Street NW were uniformed National Guard troops, spaced 10 or 20 feet apart. The morning joggers, seemingly oblivious to the events of January 6, robotically moved along, pausing only when the troops directed them to move away from the Capitol. The battlefield of the previous day could be seen ahead. The most visible damage was ripped white material hanging in shreds from the scaffolding erected for the presidential inauguration of Joseph Biden on January 20. Stillness and an exhausted tension permeated the air.

Upon the ground were pieces of discarded equipment from an angry, invading force: signs, banners, a red bag of booklets including “The Continuing American Revolution.” An unknown hand had scratched “TRUMP” in the mud with a stick. I found a sign nearby reading “We’re Right We’re Free We’ll Fight You’ll See.” Hands full, I returned to my vehicle to drop off a dozen or so signs. For the next few hours, I returned several times to fill the trunk of my car, working automatically rather than attempting to digest the various messages and symbology of the objects. As a curator of military history, I felt contextualizing the political nature of these potential artifacts was best left to my political history colleagues. Following the sweep of grass around Union Square and the reflecting pool, the trash cans along the mall took priority.

Finding a discarded flag alongside a crumpled rally sign reaffirmed how carelessly the symbols of democracy can be discarded yet are also so vitally important to preserve.

Words fail to describe the “joy” of rooting through public trash cans in search of protest-specific detritus. But between masses of discarded coffee cups, bags of dog waste, empty cigarette packs, and empty liquor bottles could be found other remnants of the previous day. A folder filled with photocopies of “The Battle Hymn of the Republic,” the lyrics of which abolitionist Julia Ward Howe penned a mere mile away, 160 years ago. Flags, so prevalent in the imagery of the sixth, proved elusive. At last, a hint of blue fabric offered hope but proved instead to be a unique item, the word “PENCE” crudely cut off a banner. Farther down the mall, a small “Trump 2020” flag emerged from within the trash—accompanied by a small, mud-stained American flag. Half a mile away, our nation’s most celebrated flag, the Star-Spangled Banner, rested alone in a climate-controlled chamber, free of the COVID virus likely contaminating the material I had just collected. After three hours of walking up and down the National Mall, hands stiff from the cold, I decided to head home and report my progress to my supervisors.

After three hours of searching, the back of my vehicle was filled with an array of potential museum artifacts, big and small, long and short.

The late Senator Robert Kennedy once said, “Few will have the greatness to bend history itself, but each of us can work to change a small portion of events.” Museum personnel are blessed with opportunities to save a small portion of events across our country, fragments of the present to help future generations understand and interpret one cold Wednesday in our nation’s capital. The events of January 6 will be debated for ages hence. The dirtied, scarred signs and artifacts collected the morning after will hopefully serve as physical reminders of the fragility of civility—and democracy.

Please find the Director of the National Museum of American History’s reflections on the challenges of living through a historic time here.

Editor’s Note: The Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History will accept a selection of the ephemera brought in as part of rapid response collecting related to the January 6 protest rallies prior to the siege on the Capitol. Materials that are not selected for the permanent collection may be made available to other museums or historical associations.

Frank Blazich Jr. is a curator in the Division of Political and Military History.

#History

[ohicosplay]

Building the Machine: Part 1, Collecting References

Welcome to the first installment of Building the Machine, the build log and tutorial for our Nier:Automata Machine Build. While this will be a guide specifically for a machine from Automata, the tips and techniques can be applied to plenty of other costumes. 

We’re not going to cover how to choose a cosplay because there are already countless tutorials out there on how to decide, and ultimately, the decision is a personal choice. 

However, a useful thing is creating a project folder. For every cosplay you want to do, create a folder and fill it with reference pictures. Don’t think about skill level or complexity, just create folders for anything you want to do. And whenever you need an idea for your next cosplay, you already have a head start on ideas and references.

This is a sample of Cata’s project folder. You can also group things by series or even costume type (sewing, armor, props, etc.) if you want to be more organized. 

When we start a costume, we break the folder down even more with a folder for progress pictures, the finished costume, and anything else that needs to be easy to access.

Now to tackle the first question: Where do you find reference pictures?

The first place we also go is Google images. Search for the character’s name and series and seeing what pops up is always our starting place.

Our first search through Google pulled up the above image, which helped us further decide which machine version to do. We also found an assortment of screenshots and artbook scans of varying quality. Depending on the character, you might be able to find most of what you need through Google. However, most characters will need to dig deeper.

Fan Art: Yes or no?

You may notice after a certain point, fan art begins popping up. Whether you use fan art as a reference is entirely up to you. For characters that might not have clear references, fan art can be useful for figuring out details or seeing interpretations. However, some people don’t use fan art as it’s not always accurate. This is also assuming you aren’t basing your costume off fan art in the first place.

Credit the artist if you incorporate their artwork in your costume. If you’re cosplaying a design an artist made or taking design elements from their art, please check with them first to see if it’s okay. if they say no, respect that. If they say yes, credit them in the finished piece. Do not take credit for someone’s ideas.

For official resources, you usually have a few options:

Promotional materials

Does the source have a website with promotional art? Press kits? More companies are also beginning to help cosplayers out by creating cosplay reference guides.  This is usually geared toward main characters in a series.

Screenshots

Sometimes you can get high-resolution screenshots from the source’s website, but it’s more likely you’ll have to get your own, especially for details.

With video games, if the game has an in-game model viewer, take screenshots from there. If you have to take screenshots within the game, keep in mind the background and lighting. You want to try to find a neutral background and lighting that won’t wash out colors/details or cast shadows.

Nier:Automata has an in-game model viewer so we grabbed screencaps from all angles and some of the different animations. 

There was also a music video that featured a machine and had some close up shots. The details are a little different from the in-game model, but gives us some ideas to work with. If you have a video program that lets you move frame by frame, that makes screencapping easier. Otherwise pausing and print screen works just as well.

Artbooks

More and more games/shows are getting artbooks released. These can be a great resource for reference and concept art. Sometimes you can find partial scans online, sometimes you have to buy the book. The quality of the artbook can also vary and cost can also be an issue. Overall, artbooks are great resources if you can find them.

We managed to find some artbook scans online and plan on buying a copy at some point. 

Other Cosplayers

Similar to fan art, looking at other cosplayers can give you an idea of how to tackle the costume and see different interpretations. Reaching out to them for help can also be a good way to get information, but be polite and remember no one is required to help. Also give credit where credit is due. 

The amount of reference material you collect is up to you. You can either collect everything at once or collect enough to get started and collect more along the way.

Real-world Equivalent

Making armor and not sure how to connect the pieces? Look at how real armor is strapped on. Making a kimono? Look up how real kimonos are constructed. Even for something like the machine, we’ll be using pictures of rusted metal for weathering references, and pictures of machine joints and fittings for the details.

Help! Nothing is consistent! What should I do?

Unfortunately, that’s a pretty common problem. Details can change from concept art to promotional art to the finished product. When that happens, you’ll have to pick-and-choose the details to follow. 

That ends this guide. The next guide will be how to break down a costume. See you then!

[wastedkookies]

sequestered - four

genre: angst / fluff / secretly dating au warning: some sexual themes pairing: yoongi / reader summary: the self-proclaimed photography hipster and the OG linguistics queen absolutely love - I mean loathe each other words: 1.9k a/n: inspired by WINE(inst) by suran and produced by suga

He ruffles your hair and you push him away in disgust, scowling when he attempts to come near you again.

“C’mon, I’m going to be your brother-in-law soon, can’t you be a little bit nicer?”

“You wish, Min Yoongi. Just because my sister’s getting married to your brother doesn’t mean I should start treating you differently.”

“Why do you even hate me so much?”

“If you hadn’t ‘accidentally’ thrown all my notes into the fire, then this wouldn’t be happening!”

“It was an accident!”

“Fuck off, Yoongi.”

“I’d rather fuck you instead.”

You scoff, turning to walk away when he grabs your wrist, spinning you around. You’re suddenly too close to him, his warm breath fanning across your face. Yoongi smirks, leaning closer to you. You feel heat rising up your cheeks — embarrassment or anger, he’ll never know — and without warning, your foot connects with his crotch and he screeches, instantly releasing his grip on you.

“Get out of my sight, Yoongi.”

~

There’s always something about the dark room that makes Yoongi happy. The place where photographs are developed, the colours bleeding into the paper slowly, swirling and mixing around before forming one cohesive picture.

It’s even better when those colours form you.

You, holding your hand up in attempt to snatch the camera away with a wide grin upon your face. You, with one hand propping your chin up but still on the verge of dozing off anyway. You, studying into the depths of the night with a cup of coffee in hand.

Yoongi smiles as he takes them down, examining them the moment he steps out of the dark room. Yes, the colours did come together nicely after all.

“Hyung!”

He places the pictures into his folder tucks it under his arm hurriedly, spinning around to find Jimin with a wide grin on his face.

“What do you want?” Yoongi asks, clearly showing signs of irritation, but Jimin doesn’t budge.

Instead, he shows his phone to Yoongi, a picture of a nice café is displayed, along with the faces of three other girls that he does not recognize.

“I’ve set us up to go on a group date tomorrow!”

“Count me out.” Jimin follows him to the courtyard, in attempt to convince Yoongi to go.

“Hyung, why not?” He whines. “It’ll be fun! Besides, we need three guys!”

“Why don’t you ask Jin?”

“Jin will just scare the girls away, and you should start getting interested in girls too!”

Yoongi’s eyes fall onto you, who was crossing the courtyard with your friends hurriedly, each of you holding a huge stack of books. Jimin follows his gaze and laughs.

“Well, I guess you could go for her.”

Yoongi glances at Jimin. “What’s wrong with that?”

Jimin shrugs. “I mean, she’s kind of a pompous bitch, isn’t she? And she’s such a nerd, constantly focusing on her work rather than going for social events. The two of you can be quite cute when you’re squabbling, but she’s kind of uptight and stuck up, isn’t she? I don’t think she’s even girlfriend material to begin with.”

Yoongi clenches his fist tightly. “Don’t talk shit about someone you barely know, Jimin.”

“It’s true though! I only see her at parties like what, once a year? Most of the time she’s in her room living in her books!”

“I rarely go to parties, aren’t I uptight too?”

“Yeah, but you at least know how to have real fun. Her idea of fun is learning how to read and speak Old English, whatever that is.”

Yoongi frowns before letting out a huff and turning away. “Forget about the group date. I ain’t going.”

~

“Okay, tell me your thoughts — does this track fit the cover art?”

The both of you are seated on his bed, with you practically on his lap as he brings up several files on his laptop. Jin wasn’t home, so it meant that you could wear one of Yoongi’s loose t-shirts and your underwear without the fear of Jin bursting into the room with some weird — but undoubtedly good — dish that he created upon impulse.

Yoongi presses ‘play’ and a sweet melody fills your ears before the bass is added into the mix. He quickly pulls up the image, displaying it to you proudly. You listen to the track as you examine the picture of a girl looking directly into the camera, hair tousled while the backdrop is filled with bright, vibrant colours in contrast to her pale skin.

A small smile forms on your lips as you start to nod your head in time with the beat, glancing over at Yoongi who’s clearly enjoying the track as much as you do. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting the music wash over you, and he places one hand on top of your head. You giggle when he turns it up louder, mouthing the words “This is my favourite part.”

You hum, shifting your position so that now you’re sitting on his lap, and he wraps his arms around your waist.

“I think it’s perfect,” you whisper.

He bows, a smug smile on his face as he tells you, “Of course it’s perfect. I produced the track and made the cover after all.”

“I retract my previous statement. I think it’s shit.”

There’s a soft thump as Yoongi smacks the back of your head playfully, you laughing as you swat his hands away. You pout when the track ends, turning to face him.

“Put it on loop, would you?”

He grins, reaching for his laptop and playing the track once again before putting it on a never-ending loop and setting it down on the floor. Your hands make their way to the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair as you lean against his chest.

The track restarts and you lock eyes with Yoongi, who smiles fondly at you, reaching out to caress your cheek. You lean into the warmth of his palm, purring when his other hand starts to rub your back gently. He kisses your forehead, then your temple, then your nose, then your cheek, then your chin, and finally, your lips. You hold onto his hand, eyes fluttering shut as his tongue slides over your bottom lip.

“You taste like peppermint.”

“Taehyung brought candy canes,” he tells you with half-lidded eyes, peppering your neck with little kisses, causing you to groan. “He said that we needed to get ready for Christmas.”

“It’s only November.”

“Well, that’s Tae for you.”

Yoongi nips at your skin in a playful manner, chuckling when he feels your hand tugging at his hair. He glances up at you, eyes closed and relaxed jaw, the lines of stress slowly ebbing away. Your warm breath against his ear causes a light shudder to run down his spine — oh, how he loved that.

He makes his way back to your lips again, and your tongue slips inside his mouth, gentle but demanding all at once. You relish his taste, finding yourself wanting more and more, releasing his hand and letting it run up and down your bare legs. Yoongi sets you down on the bed gently, the both of you still kissing as he straddles you. He pulls away, and the string of saliva between your lips was left to connect the both of you.

A group date? Why would Yoongi ever go for that when he had you — a pompous snob who thinks fun is dragging him into helping you study, an uptight bitch who stuck her nose up at him when he had no drive to accomplish his tasks at hand. Who needs one of those ditzy girls with high-pitched voices and absolutely no wit whatsoever when he had you, who would constantly engage in intelligent banter and squabbles with him whenever you felt like it.

Intelligence is most definitely sexy.

You moan as his hand slips under your t-shirt — well, more like his t-shirt — squeezing your side gently. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer to you as the kiss gets even more heated, this time with his tongue slipping into your mouth and exploring its depths.

~

Taehyung flashes a toothy grin when Jimin reaches for yet another candy cane.

“Yoongi-hyung’s been acting weird.” Jimin huffs, shoving the candy cane into his mouth. “He wouldn’t go for the group date with us.”

“I told you it wouldn’t work,” Taehyung laughs, propping his legs up on the table. “What’s so weird about that? He never came with us for any group dates in the first place.”

“Nah, the weird part is the fact that he kept staring at everyone’s favourite linguistics queen.” Taehyung raises his eyebrows.

“Do you think hyung likes her?”

“If anything, they’re probably already together,” Jimin says, pulling the candy cane out of his mouth and waving it. “I found him shoving pictures of her into his folder earlier, and he also got super defensive when I started calling her uptight.”

Taehyung leans forward, interested. “But doesn’t he say that to her?”

“My thoughts exactly.”

Jimin sighs, sinking back into the couch. “How weird. When did they get together without either of us realising?”

Taehyung grins. “Wanna go pay hyung a visit?”

“Why not?”

~

He rolls off you, short little pants leaving his mouth. Your clothes are strewn all over the floor, but you couldn’t care less, your legs clinging onto Yoongi’s legs tightly as he throws the covers over the both of you. The track continues to play and you brush away his hair that was sticking to his forehead.

“This track is so chill, I love it,” you mumble, a lazy smile spreading across your lips as his hand rests on your butt.

“I made it with you in mind,” he replies. “It can be our chill song, yeah?”

“A chill song that leads to hot, intense sex? I can dig that.”

“You dig anything, really.”

“Shut up!”

You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a contented sigh. Yoongi strokes your hair endearingly, until his eyes fall on the folder sitting on his desk. He sits up abruptly, placing one hand on the floor and leaning over in attempt to reach for the folder without having to leave the bed. You giggle, applauding when he is successful, sitting up to peer into the folder.

“I got to take a few pictures of you last week and I got them developed,” he explains, handing you the folder. “Here, from me to you. Hang them up in your room or something.”

You wiggle your eyebrows playfully when you see the photographs. “Talk about aesthetic, Min Yoongi!”

“Hey, aesthetic is my middle name.”

Your laughter fills the air, bouncing off the walls of the room. You turn to glance at the clock before sighing.

“Well, I should probably get going, right?”

Yoongi nods dejectedly. “Yeah. I’ll walk you back.”

~

The walk back is silent, but his fingers are intertwined with yours. You give his hand a gentle squeeze, and he smiles softly.

“Do you think it’ll snow this Christmas?”

“Hopefully,” he answers. “Then we can finally have that White Christmas you’ve been dreaming about.”

“I’m dreaming of a White Christmas…” You sing, and he shakes his head, but the smile on his lips is still evident.

For it to disappear completely when the both of you bump into Taehyung and Jimin, with both your hands still locked and in sight.

more fics // request

[emmakillianfan]

Music of the Heart Chapter 45 of ?

Previous Chapters: FF.net and AO3

Later that morning Emma sat at her desk with her travel cup of coffee balanced precariously in her hand as she flipped through the contract for Elsa’s upcoming appearances. It seemed relatively standard and without some of the caveats that she had thought might cause an issue when she mentally considered options in the shower that morning. While Elsa had yet to say definitively if she was reneging from the obligation of the tour, Emma felt it necessary to arm herself fully in the pending discussion with Regina.

Stretching her boot covered feet under the desk, Emma took another sip from her travel mug and managed to place it next to her phone without spilling it everywhere. The office was relatively quiet, everyone out on assignments or in the studio that morning. A few people were answering calls – mostly unsolicited artists trying to break through into the business by making pests of themselves. She ignored those and stuffed the contract back into the folder.

She was part way through an email to the tour manager about security provision cost estimates when she heard the familiar and foreboding clack of high heels on the hallway floor. Without even looking, Emma knew them to be Regina’s. While Zelena wore such heels too, her steps were usually more gliding compared to the determined march of the younger sister. Sure enough Regina’s dark head poked into the office after a preceding knock.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, her arms folded and hands tucked as she stared into the much smaller office. “Are you finally going to explain this concern about Elsa? I was at the Rabbit Hole on Saturday. She can’t be that upset that some fan spent a fortune on flowers for her.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than some flowers,” Emma said, motioning for her boss to come in and sit. It would not do to cower to the woman’s sense of propriety and seem weak or wishy washy. No, she had to present herself confidently and as a woman who was not going to cower. It wasn’t that foreign of a concept to Emma, but one she found herself losing ground on with Regina. “Here’s the sheriff’s findings. He’s still investigating, but you’ll see there was an incident yesterday at the condo involving Liam’s car.”

Barely glancing at the neatly typed form from Graham, Regina held it between her finger and thumb as if it might somehow stain her double button blazer and creamy blouse. Her dark red lips pursed out. “And we’re sure this is all legitimate? I know sometimes women can like to garner attention for themselves. It wouldn’t be unheard of for a woman to stage such things to get the renewed affections of a wayward boyfriend.”

“I doubt Graham would have missed that kind of clue,” Emma insisted, not taking the document back as Regina waved it vaguely. She knew the thinly veiled comment to Regina about Graham would sting somewhat. “He’s a pretty good judge of character and whatnot. And Elsa was with Liam the whole time. She couldn’t have slashed his tires without his knowing.”

“Maybe she had help. Her sister maybe?” Regina crossed her legs, the material of her skirt stretching tightly along the split at midthigh. “That’s plausible.”

Pressing a finger to where he nose met her forehead, Emma sighed. “You think that she had her pregnant sister sneak into a garage and slash three tires on a car. The same pregnant sister who has decreased her work load and schedule because of wanting to do everything right for her baby.”

“I’m simply throwing possibilities out there, Ms. Swan. No need to get defensive. So you and the sheriff are sure it isn’t self inflicted. What about an old boyfriend? That’s not unheard of, you know. Elsa has reached a certain level of celebrity and some would assume independent wealth. I could see some man from her past hoping to benefit from a rekindled relationship.” She shifted in the rounded chair, the silvery heel of her left shoe digging into the carpet enough to create an depression. “Did the sheriff not see anything odd about the fact that Elsa is receiving flowers and notes while her boyfriend gets his tires slashed. I’m not an investigator, but that just screams jealous ex to me.”

Emma gave a placating smile, leaning back in her chair. “I don’t know that it matters at this point. Elsa said she does not know anyone who would do such a thing. And I believe her. Graham agreed that it is most likely an obsessed fan of some kind. So that leads us to discussing security issues. I’m about to ask our IT guys and girls to take a look at the blog, social media, and message boards for anything that stands out. I was also thinking that we need to prepare our front line staff to answer questions without providing personal information that could be dangerous in the wrong hands. I also want to look at our own procedures for divulging information like travel details and dates.”

The dark haired woman’s chin rose slightly. “And this extra security will be coming out of the general budget?”

Expecting such a protest, Emma passed over the spreadsheet she had already printed. “There will probably be extras but this is a good estimate on the start of it. That doesn’t include measures for Elsa’s safety if we continue on course with the tour dates. I was also thinking…”

“Of what? Hiring a cook and housekeeping help for her? Maybe a masseuse to deal with all those pesky issues of stress from all this? A decorator so this stalker has a better looking place to wait?” Regina threw the unread report and spreadsheet on the floor. “I run a music label, Ms. Swan. This isn’t a charity.”

Emma was prepared for that too, knowing that Regina hated to part with money or control. “The final details will be up to you, but I just put together some numbers. I also looked at whether it might make more sense economically to pull out of the upcoming performance dates.” She smiled as she held another estimate in her hands, hoping that her idea of concentrating on the monetary aspects were more likely to sway the fiscally conservative woman than simply asking permission. This would give everyone enough time to book another act if that is how we decide to go.”

“She wants to back out on performances that will bring more attention to her and her music?” the woman asked coldly. “Why not? Let’s not ever record, promote, or otherwise do anything that would make people think we were a label. We could make sand art and sell it at craft fairs or crochet little hats and scarfs. Would that make you happy?”

“Regina, I’m not suggesting anything. I am just presenting the possibilities.” She hoped that her face was not betraying her calm voice that she was trying to keep stoic. “Elsa has a good reason to be concerned. And I’m not saying we’re responsible, but a fan who is bordering on stalking is something we should be prepared to handle. I realize I haven’t yet, but surely you have with your experience.”

Pushing off the arms of the chair, Regina was quickly on her feet and back at the door. “Fine, we’ll do something. I’ll make my decision by the end of the day. I want to see the reports from these security people as soon as they come in. No editing them, Ms. Swan. I want it unfiltered.”

“If you think that’s best,” Emma said, turning back to her computer screen. “You’re the boss.”

***AAA***

Mr. French’s shirt was a crisp white with traces of moss and the floral scent of a man who worked all day with flowers. His calloused hand gripped Liam’s tightly as he eyed the man and frowned just enough to let everyone know that he was not used to having his business interrupted by people asking questions and buying nothing.

“I don’t know what else I can tell you. The guy came in here and bought the flowers, wrote the card himself. He used your name, but having never met you…”

“I’ve been here before,” Liam groused with his hands shoved in the front pockets of his jeans. “So this guy just claims to be me and you don’t question it?”

“You think he should have asked for identification? He was buying flowers not a hand gun,” Graham said, tilting his head back to check out the two security cameras placed strategically. One was trained on the cash register and the other on the door. It seemed a bit much for the 14’X16’ show room that was crowded with floral displays. “I know you gave us the tape, but is there anything else you remember? Did he have a limp? A tattoo? A scar? Something that would distinguish him in any way?”

Liam grumbled at the questions, his mind immediately thinking of different movies where the bad guy seemed to have such a trait. He certainly hoped that Graham’s training went beyond watching movies and trying to imitate the men in them.

“Nothing really, the grayed man said as he brushed a bit of the cut greenery off the counter from the last sale. “Well, he did have an accent. English I guess. I don’t know much about those things myself. Can’t usually tell the difference, but he sounded like this guy here.”

Graham wrote that down, flipping back through the worn notebook as if he was looking for something. “If you had to guess his age, what would you think?”

“Maybe 20? Maybe a little older or younger? I don’t know really. I appreciate my customers but I don’t typically get to know them that well. I remember his name only because he emphasized the first part and I wrote down Lee at first. He corrected me and then said that she would know who they were from so no need to use his name.” He chuckled to himself, the first sign of humor in the old man. “You wouldn’t believe the number of men who don’t want the woman to know they are sending flowers. It’s a bit like a white flag. See if she shoots or if she accepts. Most of the time women like the attention. I like to think I have a part in that.”

“You’re a regular cupid,” Graham said with a smirk. “And so you or one or you guys dropped off the flowers at the Rabbit Hole? That afternoon?”

“I only have one guy who works for me. He dropped them off about closing time. It was the last delivery of the day.”

Graham talked for a few more minutes, asking questions and even gathering information about everything from the cost of the flowers to the fact that the man had seemed oddly confused about paying cash. “He had to look at each bill two times at least,” the proprietor said. “It was like he’d never seen them before.”

“That was worthless,” Liam muttered, sliding into the passenger seat of the cruiser. He was aware that as a private resident he had no right to tag along on the investigation. However, Graham had afforded him that privilege and seemed to not mind his doubts and concerns. “So we know the price and that he used my name.”

“We know a bit more than that,” Graham said, turning the wheel of the car and pointing it in the direction of the docks. “French said the guy used your name, yes, but where did he learn it? The stories I’ve read on Elsa don’t include your name. Even when you manage to make it in a photo with her, you’re identified as a companion. That would say that either, a – the guy works with Elsa and knows you, b – the guy has done his research, or c – this is about you or Elsa personally and not just a fan who has stepped over the line.”

Liam could see his face reflected back in the glass as he stared at the passing landscape. His eyes were heavy and his mouth in a firm line. The stubble of his face was more in line with what Killian would wear, but he had not shaved that morning. “And how do we figure that out?”

“We find the guy and that’s when we’ll know.”

***AAA***

“I could get used to this,” Emma said when Killian arrived at her office that afternoon. She had just gotten back herself, having visited with Anna and Kris along with Elsa. Regina had yet to make any announcement of a decision, but she knew that her earlier meeting had gotten under her skin and bored its way into her head. She had just dropped her jacket on the hook at the back of the door when she heard the family lilt of his voice calling her beautiful. She’d called him on her way back to town to tell him that he and Henry were on their own for dinner. Her contract study, meeting with Regina and then the two sisters had kept her from the pending negotiation of another act and a call that she needed to make on travel arrangements for Liam and the guys. It would be late before she got home.

He had wrapped her up in a big hug, his arms around her waist and lifting her up off the ground as she smiled against his lips. Her legs kicked playfully, the leather of her boots heavy.

“If I can’t convince you to leave at a reasonable hour, I can at least prevent you from starving to death,” he said after another peck. “You probably have nothing in that desk other than a stick of gum and maybe a candy bar that isn’t even a brand made any more.”

If he had been wrong she might have pulled open the drawers to show him. Instead she pointed to the single cup maker outside the door to her office. “There’s coffee.”

“Hardly a sustaining meal for my love,” he said, setting her down and lifting bag from Granny’s up high. “This isn’t the most substantial either, but you seem to appreciate the simpler things. Grilled cheese, onion rings, and a slice of pie for dessert.”

She ran her tongue over her pink lips. “You know me well. You know me well.” Relieving him of the bag so he could pull off his coat, she frowned and shook the bag again. “This is pretty heavy. Sure you don’t have a meal for yourself in there?”

“I believe I picked up a burger and cheese fries for me. After all, your boy is currently keeping Granny company and probably being fed every greasy and fattening concoction known to man.” She raised an eyebrow at him before peering into the bag. “Moderation, Swan. I can have some treats. I simply try to keep it in moderation.”

“Right, right, right, you’re a regular health nut.” She placed the items on the small glass table that sat in front of a love seat over in the corner. “I think I’ll just enjoy the treat and ignore the surgeon general warning. Besides I don’t want to spend this chance to be with you on calorie counts and carbs.”

It took them no time to find a comfortable position on the not so comfortable furniture. She stole cheese and bacon covered fries from him while he only managed to threaten to steal onion rings from her. Each time he mentioned it, she pulled them out of his reach defensively. The meal took a bit longer than strictly necessary, as they both managed kisses and caresses between bites.

“This won’t get me out of here any earlier,” she said, her stomach full and her legs stretched over his as she slumped against the cushions. “Right now I need a nap.”

“You would not have accomplished much with a growling stomach either, love. And besides we needed the chance to replenish before the next crisis hits our lives. I gather Liam and Elsa will be back at the house tonight.”

She nodded, her fingers smoothing the soft flannel of his shirt sleeve in an absentminded pattern. “Graham said the contractors made some suggestions for security but it has to go before the board. So I think we have guests for a few more nights at least. As competitive as you and your brother can get, I think he’s more comfortable with us than at Anna’s. And nobody else has the room. So we’re it.” She yawned slightly. “You don’t mind too much, do you?”

“They are both family as far as I’m concerned. And so long as we have a door we can shut, I would estimate that we will have happy moments together.” Reaching out his hand, she assumed he was about to caress the side of her face. She even tilted her head slightly to receive the affectionate gesture. Instead he pushed some of the blonde hair behind her ear. “Perhaps it will do us some good to have a house full. Might be good practice.” His eyebrows raised of seemingly their own volition and her cheeks felt warm under his gaze.

“Slow down, Romeo. You do have one good idea though.”

“Just one, love?”

She tilted her head coyly at him. “Maybe I can get out of here for a few minutes and pick up Henry. You’ve been doing the heavy lifting on his social agenda lately. I owe you more than a few.”

“You know I don’t mind helping you scuttle the lad back and forth. He’s good company and a fine conversationalist if someone steals the batteries to that bloody handheld game of his.” He smiled. “And for the record, I’m not keeping score on that any more than I noticed how many of my French fries you commandeered.”

***AAA***

Emma’s boots crunched the gravel beneath her as she walked from her car to the fenced area where a few other parents were waiting for their children. Appreciating for a moment that this was not currently one of Henry’s more frequent after school activities, she noted the familiar comradery of the parents there and the way they all pointed to each other’s children with a shared pride. When she thought about it, she was grateful that Henry’s interests tended to be more in line with music, writing, and even art. She was not all that sure she wanted or was suited to the sports mom phenomenon where she would sit on bleachers and yell at umpires, referees, and even other children in support of her son. However, the men and women at the horse farm were not all that competitive and seemed much more in tune with being caring toward the growing and maturing of their children. “You’re Henry’s mom?” a plump woman asked, her with her coat over her shoulders and a steaming disposable cup in her hands. “He’s a cutie. You should bring him here more often.”

Emma smiled her thanks, taking a spot near the wood fence and looking toward the ring where about half a dozen young teens were astride their horses. She’d never considered that as an activity for him, but Violet seemed to be a big influence in it. The young girl sat in her riding habit with perfect posture on a velvety black mare. From what Emma had learned, she was quite the horse woman and had started competing at dressage with promising results. Henry had ridden a few times, mostly at camp or on field trips, but he was nowhere as accomplished as his friend.

Henry’s helmet was falling forward as he turned his head in her direction, noticing her just seconds before it covered his eyes. He pushed back on it clumsily and then seemingly realized both hands were not on the reins. Jolting a bit in the saddle, he gave her a weak smile before turning his attention to the instructor who was giving direction for Henry to lead the horse around the field in a slow walk. She could see his ribcage expand as he breathed out a sigh of relief at not being required to ride the horse in a strong gallop or trot that might have made him feel even more off balance.

She pulled out her phone and readied the camera to snap a couple of pictures as he rounded the corner nearest to her. Flashing her a nervous but toothy grin, she waved at him enthusiastically until he was past.

“They grow up so fast, don’t they?” Tamara asked, startling Emma. “That’s what Neal always says.”

Emma nearly dropped the phone, sourness taking root in her stomach. “Did we get our wires crossed? Is Neal…”

The petite woman smiled brightly, waving her hand before her. “No, I was coming to meet him. He wanted to watch Henry ride. But he got held up at work. I was about to leave when I saw you so I thought I’d say hello.” She adjusted the collar on her caramel colored jacket and squinted into the late afternoon sun. “So hello.”

“Hi. I guess I owe you a thank you for watching Henry the night of my birthday.” She wasn’t sure what to say to the woman, knowing that she was having to share her time with her son was bad enough. “I’m sure you had other plans.”

“No problem. He’s great. I know we didn’t get off to the best start…”

Over Tamara’s shoulder Emma could see a few of the parents pretending not to listen. It was the curse of small towns that everyone knew everyone’s business. “Everyone deserves a second chance. And I think he’s enjoying his time more at Neal’s now that you two have talked. Each time he comes back he’s telling us about your wedding plans. Sounds like those are coming along well.” She gripped the phone tighter, hoping it might ring and give her an excuse to answer.

“Yeah, it’s all a balancing act. I’ve been meaning to ask. I know Neal was concerned that with the reception at the vineyard tasting room that Henry won’t be allowed in because of his age. But I didn’t think he’d want to attend that part. I mean, dancing, eating, and all that. I thought you and your fiancé might could take him back to the hotel or something.” Her bag slipped down her shoulder and she quickly lifted the strap back in place. “I mean if you don’t mind. It would solve a lot of problems.”

“We’d be happy to do that,” Emma said with her own flash of a smile to match the other woman. “I’m happy to spend time with my son.” She knew that the arrangement would probably place doubt in Henry’s head about his father’s love, but she hoped it wouldn’t last long.

Tamara didn’t get the insult and smiled more brightly. “Awesome. I knew you’d handle it. I told Neal that you two have one of the most cooperative custody things ever. So you let us know if we can take Henry off your hands for your wedding. I know Neal wants him there and you probably do too, but you have to admit that fitting a 13 year old into a ceremony is hard work. He’s shorter than the other groomsmen so it will look funny. And boys that age always look so gangly and unkempt. You’re going to take him for a haircut before my wedding right? I don’t want him to look bad in the photos. My parents have already worked out deals with a few newspapers to put the wedding in the style section so those photos matter. And the minister keeps asking if we want to have him as part of the vows.” She groaned. “You know what I mean?”

She could feel her muscles stiffen and then pulse with anger. “You realize that 13 year old is Neal’s son right? He’s my son too. No matter how funny it looks, my son belongs in my wedding. Because that day isn’t going to be about me in a pretty dress. It’s not about Killian becoming my husband. It’s not even about me adding a piece of jewelry or changing my name. It’s about the fact that we are officially becoming a family. And while Neal and I have agreed on precious little over the past few years, I assure you that Neal feels the same about Henry. You’re not just a bride that day. You’re going to become his stepmother. You may not like that. You may want fewer strings and less baggage. But that boy…that 13 year old…he’s going to become your stepson and your responsibility too. Maybe that’s what you should be concentrating on rather than the style section of a newspaper.”

[tekaevl]

I'm just the messenger... But here you go....

I’ve been researching this crap for awhile...The FBI uncovered a sex trafficking ring in Boystown, right outside of Omaha Ne. That was back in the late 80’s early 90’s when Barney Franks was a Senator. The FBI field director’s name was run into the ground , he was forced out of the FBI, and eventually was suicided.

Pizzagate is real. It isn’t some conspiracy theory. It's real. It’s always been real. And you can’t convince me otherwise. If you think the Wayfair Stuff makes you sick, then wait.

Because what you’re seeing is just a small piece to a HUGE puzzle. This runs deep. People laughed at Pizzagate…. They aren’t laughing anymore. Human trafficking is real. It’s one of the classes you take when you’re fostering/adopting. It’s at least 4 hours. Elite paedophilia is real. Organ harvesting is real. It’s not a new phenomenon. It’s not something that just started. It’s been going on for YEARS. It’s not something that is just going on in the US. It’s happening all over the world.

It involves Hollywood. It involves politicians on both sides. It involves the Rich. People you look up to are involved. And I get it. It’s hard to wrap your head around what’s going on. It’s hard to imagine something so dark and disgusting going on right under your nose.

It’s hard to imagine something so evil is happening to our children. It’s easy to laugh it off as some conspiracy theory. Oh no, not my favourite actor, singer, or politician. Oh no, not Hillary. She can’t be involved. She was going to save us from Trump.

The international Labor Organisation estimates 40.3 MILLION human trafficking victims GLOBALLY.

If you think this is still a hoax or don’t want to come to terms with the fact that an Elite Paedophilia ring exists, ask yourself this:

⭐️Everyone knew about Epstein and his love for underage girls. ⭐️People were calling Little Saint James "Paedophile Island" since Epstein purchased the island in 1998. ⭐️With that knowledge, why did Bill Clinton and Obama visit Epstein’s paedophile Island? Multiple times? ⭐️Why did the locals report seeing dozens of young kids being taken across there for years? ⭐️Why was Bill Gates a regular visitor there? ⭐️Prince Andrew…. Do I need to say more and why is The Queen going around threatening anyone to run the story if it’s not true? ⭐️You mean to tell me that all these prominent men and women went to this paedophile island for one big party? Knowing what they knew about him? It wasn’t a secret. ⭐️What was Epstein using the underground tunnels for? ⭐️Who was Ghislaine Maxwell? ⭐️Did you know she owned a submarine company? ⭐️Did you know she has her sub pilot license? What could she possibly need a submarine pilot license for? ⭐️Did you know that yachts with submarines were used to transport kidnapped children from Haiti to Epstein's paedophile Island? ⭐️What about Laura Silsby? The woman who was tried in Haiti for trying to sneak and KIDNAP 30 children to bring them to the US. Clinton’s used executive order to bring her back without being charged. ⭐️The kicker…… guess who changed their legal name and is in charge of amber alert— Laura Silsby… but let’s not mention that…. People who dig down that hole end up dying…. ⭐️Did you know the TerraMar project was founded by Clinton Foundation and was located in the Lynn De Rothschild property in Manhattan? ⭐️Chelsea Clinton and Ghislaine are reported to be very close and actually vacationed together. You mean to tell me that Chelsea didn’t know about Ghislaine? ⭐️Remember when Chelsea’s wedding was paid for with money that was supposed to feed starving Haitian children? ⭐️Why did Hillary put Ghislaine’s nephew in charge of key Middle East policy decisions when she ran the State Department? You know… the one overseeing US/Libya policy that got an ambassador killed. ⭐️What about the Podesta Emails? ⭐️What was up with John and Tony Podesta’s artwork? ⭐️Would you own any of that creepy “art”? ⭐️Why would Obama buy $65,000 worth of tax payers money to have hot dogs fly in from Chicago for a private party? ⭐️Did you know that hotdog is an FBI code word for young boys? ⭐️Who is James Alefantis? ⭐️A pizza restaurant owner in DC. Who happens to be named one of the most powerful people in DC-A pizza place? A man that owns a children's pizza place? A man that has close ties with the Clinton's, Obama, Epstein and many more? ⭐️Have you seen his Instagram? Oh you probably haven’t… you’re just now looking into everything. ⭐️Have you looked up the art that is in his pizza place? ⭐️You want your kids seeing that stuff? ⭐️What about the dark web login to get into his site and order pizza that cost thousands of dollars? Oh wait… that was taken down. ⭐️What is a pizza place owner doing communicating with the White House? ⭐️What about the Hollywood actor that walked into comet pizza and shot at a locked closet door? The same closet that housed his computer which ended up with a bullet through the hard drive? Odd. ⭐️What about Anthony Weiner? All the emails found on his laptop? ⭐️You mean to tell me that his wife, Huma Abedin, had no knowledge of what was going on? ⭐️Huma and her friend Hillary had NO clue about this 15 year old girl? ⭐️What about the folder titled “Life Insurance”? ⭐️You know the one that housed the now famous videos titled "Frazzledrip" with Huma and Hillary. You want nightmares, read about those videos!! ⭐️The same Huma and Hillary who 9 NYPD have “committed” suicide after watching a horrific video of them doing unspeakable things to little girl? The same NYPD who threw up because what they saw was horrific? ⭐️Speaking of suicide, why have 57 former colleagues and associated ended up dead in the past 30 years? 15 have died of suicide. 8 died in a plane, car, or motorcycle accident and 14 have been found mysteriously murdered. All of these people had info that could have potentially hurt the Clinton's career. I don’t even have 57 friends 😂😂 let alone know 57 people that I need to add to a hit list. ⭐️Why is James Comey’s daughter the lead prosecutor on the Epstein sex trafficking case? ⭐️Former CEO of Reddit, Ellen Pao admitted they Knew Ghislaine supplied underage girls for Epstein and his pedo buddies? ⭐️The Norwegian Royal Family implicated in Epstein Scandal? Why? Not surprising considering Prince Andrew. ⭐️What about Oprah’s mentor? John of God and Weinstein. You mean to tell me Oprah didn’t know? Come on nowww... ⭐️Have you even heard of the NXIVM case? They were just running a sex cult where Smallville actress, Allison Mack was arrested and indicted on federal charges related to sex trafficking. ⭐️The McMartin Preschool. The Franklin Cover up. Seth Rich. Isaac Kappy. Boystown. The Finders. The list goes on and on... ⭐️Denish Hastert…. Do you know him? You should. Good buddies with Podesta…. ⭐️Robert Menendez. Mike Folmer. Prominent democratic donor, Terry Bean. David Byrd. George Byrd. All known prominent paedophiles.

Why don’t we hear more about Biden’s Island? Very close to Epstein’s Island. The Podesta brothers were known suspect’s years ago when little Madeline McCain was stolen from her parent’s hotel while on vacation. What ever happened to her? This doesn’t even cover a quarter of what is going on. This is so much more than Epstein. It’s so much more than Ghislaine. This runs deep and you’re going to be shocked at the ending.

I’m not interested in hypotheticals, rumours or factless connections. Everything. Everything ties together. Everything is connected. So while others are more concerned about COVID, I’m more concerned about saving our children. Aren't you? Pass it on... if you believe one scintilla of the above before the Facebook police get rid of it...

original post

[bern33chaser]

11 Writing Exercises to Inspire You and Strengthen Your Writing

Whether you’re writing just for fun, for school, or with professional goals in mind, these exercises can all help you to improve your writing. Some will give you inspiration, others will help you avoid editing as you write, and many of them will help you pay closer attention to your word choices.

I hope you’ll enjoy giving them a go!

#1: Cover Your Screen While You Write

If you find yourself doing more editing than actual writing, then try covering up (or, on a laptop, turning down) your screen while you draft.

If, like me, you can touch-type – try closing your eyes instead. I find it surprisingly relaxing! (Though I tend to stop every sentence or two to make sure I’ve hit the keys I thought I was hitting…)

At first, it might seem odd not to be able to see the words that you’re typing – but you might well find that you write faster and express your thoughts more freely this way.

#2: Set a Daily Writing Goal and Track Your Progress

Writing, as most other crafts, only gets better with practice. If you want to improve, therefore, you will need to write pretty much every single day.

The best strategy to achieve this objective is to set a goal of how many words you want to write per day, and then to track your progress over time. A simple notebook or spreadsheet should be enough for you to record your daily statistics.

The Prolifiko blog has a great piece with more tips to set writing goals and resolutions and to make sure you achieve them.

#3: Use a Writing Prompt to Get You Going

If you want to write, but you don’t know what you want to write, try using a writing prompt. This could be anything from a story scenario (“write about someone who gets caught in a lie”) to a blog post title (“Ten Things I Wish I Could Tell My 15-Year-Old Self”).

Here are a couple of sources of prompts to keep you busy for a while:

25 creative writing prompts, a list of prompts you can use to start writing a simple story or even a novel.

365 Creative Writing Prompts, from Think Written – a mixed bag of prompts, with some for stories and some for poems; many would also work for blogging.

Even if you’re working on a longer piece, like a novel, prompts can be helpful. A line of dialogue, for instance, might give you just the inspiration you need for your next scene.

#4: Don’t Start at the Beginning … Start at the End

There’s no writing rule that says you need to begin at the beginning. In fact, many writers find it more effective to start at the end.

You can do this in a couple of different ways:

Start your story (or blog post, etc) close to the chronological end – e.g. you might begin with “As I stared down the mountain, I couldn’t believe I was actually here…” You can then jump back in time and narrate the events that led up to that point.

Write the end of your blog post (or story, etc) first. Once you’ve written your concluding paragraphs or final scenes, you’ll know what you’re leading up to. If you prefer not to write it out in full, you could make notes.

#5: Rewrite a Masterpiece or a Famous Story

Choose a famous masterpiece or classic novel (like Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice or Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet) and write your own version.

This is a great exercise because you can do it at almost any level: you could write a short story for children, or you could write a whole novel or screenplay. (Bridget Jones’s Diary, for instance, borrowed heavily from Pride and Prejudice; the children’s movie Gnomeo and Juliet is based, as you might guess, on Romeo and Juliet.)

You can do this with fairytales, too, like the story of Cinderella or Little Red Riding Hood. You might decide to bring the stories into the modern world – or you might switch to a completely different genre, like a Western version of Little Red Riding Hood or a sci-fi version of Cinderella.

Hopefully, you’ll think of some interesting ways to present an old story in a new way – great practice for avoiding clichés and stereotypes in your own writing.

#6: Create a Found Poem from Your Spam Folder

A “found poem” is one created from text that already exists – and some writers enjoy repurposing spam emails for this!

Check your spam folder. I’m sure that, like mine, it’s full of emails with some strange wording and dubious promises like:

I did not need to find a winning product. he gave it to me…

Just drinking 1 cup of this delicious hot beverage in the morning sets you up to burn more fat than 45 exhausting minutes on the treadmill.

Hello %E-mail_address%, I know your very love Engineer Jobs and want have T-Shirt for Engineer Jobs.

It is vital to have a telephone system that has all the specific functions

(All of these are taken verbatim from my own spam folder…)

Could you pick out a few lines (they don’t have to be consecutive ones) to create your own found poem? Feel free to add some words if needed. There are some wonderfully odd examples here.

#7: Write Something Inspired By a Piece of Writing, Music or Art

Inspiration can come in all sorts of ways – but if you’re struggling to find an idea, try turning to other people’s creative works. In my blogging, I’ve often been inspired by other people’s post structures, by an idea of theirs that I want to take further – or even by something they’ve written that I disagree with.

You can use music and art in a similar way: they can be particularly potent sources of ideas for stories. If you have a favourite song or artist, what in their work speaks to you? How could you craft a story using some of those themes or thoughts? Alternatively, look through some photos of artworks, and choose one or more to use as the basis for a story.

#8: Interview Your Novel’s Characters

This is a fun exercise that a lot of writers use to dig into who their characters are: the character interview. You can work through a pre-set list of questions, or you can come up with your own in advance, or you can just start typing and go with the flow!

You might do this essentially like a character questionnaire or checklist, or you might want to write it more like a mini-story, with you as the author inviting your character to sit down and talk.

Depending on the sort of fiction you write, the setting for your interview could be almost anything – perhaps you’re enjoying a casual chat over coffee and cake with your character, or maybe you’re interviewing them as a journalist, or even in court. Or, if you’re into rather darker fiction, you might be conducting an interrogation…

However you do this, it’s a great exercise to have fun with, and you might discover a whole backstory to your character that you’d never thought about before.

#9: Use the Alphabet

This is a fun exercise that can work for almost any type of writing: craft a piece where each sentence starts with the next letter of the alphabet. Here’s the start of one to show you what I mean:

At six o’clock, Josie woke up. Before she’d even opened her eyes, she knew what had woken her: she could hear it, just like she’d heard it every Friday morning for months. Cliff, her neighbour, was out in his garden. Despite all the times she’d gone round and asked him, through gritted teeth, to please wait until at least seven, he was mowing the blasted lawn again.

“Excuse me!” she called, over the fence. For a moment, she thought he hadn’t heard her over the sound of the mower.

(Yes, it’s tricky once you get to X! You might find this list helpful, or you might choose to use a sentence-starting word that merely contains an X.)

#10: Write with a Sentence Length Limit in Place

Can you limit every sentence you write to ten words? (Or fewer!) This might be tricky. It’s a great exercise for bloggers and online marketers, though. Short snappy sentences and paragraphs work well online.

You might want to draft as normal, then edit ruthlessly. Or you could count the words as you type. Whatever works for you!

(Yes, the sentences in this section are ten words max…)

#11: Write Without Using Any Adverbs

This is a common exercise advised for fiction writers: write a whole scene without using a single adverb.

Adverbs are words that modify verbs, adjectives and adverbs. They often (though not always) end with –ly.

Here are a few sentences with the adverbs indicated in bold:

The girl walked quickly to school. (“Quickly” is modifying the verb “walked”.)

Slowly, the fairly tall man stood.  (“Slowly” is modifying the verb “stood”, and “fairly” is modifying the adjective “tall”)

On the bus, the baby cried dismayingly loudly. (“Dismayingly” is modifying the adverb “loudly”, and “loudly” is modifying the verb “cried”.)

Writing without adverbs forces you to write crisper, clearer (and shorter!) sentences, which often have more impact. In particular, you’ll find yourself choosing stronger verbs.

All of these sentences could replace “The girl walked quickly to school” – and each has a slightly different nuance:

The girl strode to school.

The girl hurried to school.

The girl power-walked to school.

Of course, adverbs aren’t bad in themselves – so I don’t recommend avoiding them in all your writing! This exercise can help you, though, to be more aware of when you’re using adverbs unnecessarily.

—

Pick one of the above exercises to try out during your writing time this week. (If you’re feeling up for it, pick two and combine them – how about rewriting a classic without using any adverbs?) Have fun!

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Original post: 11 Writing Exercises to Inspire You and Strengthen Your Writing from Daily Writing Tips https://www.dailywritingtips.com/11-writing-exercises/

[lorrainecparker]

Useful tools for editors: Go Predators edition

It’s been awhile since we’ve visited the Useful Tools for Editors series so in honor of our Nashville Predators making it to the NHL Western Conference Finals here’s a new batch of software, hardware, books, tweets and tips for editors everywhere. Go Preds!

Art of the Cut book

Most people reading this column have probably been following Steve Hullfish’s long running ART OF THE CUT series here on PVC. It is by far the most expansive and in-depth interview series with the biggest names working in editorial in Hollywood today. While Steve’s series has published on PVC for quite some time you may not know that he recently published a printed, paperback version of Art of the Cut:Conversations with Film and TV Editors. 

I’m sure the first question asked is: Why would I every buy a dead tree version of this book when I can read them all online for free? For me there is still the pleasure of curling up with a good book and as an editor I learn something every time I read something like Art of the Cut. After a long day of editing I just don’t like to stare at more screens, even a Kindle (though a Kindle isn’t as bad as an iPad.) But the best thing about the book is that the interviews are organized by topic and not just by interview subject. I think this approach takes the linear approach to reading a book out the window as you can browse the table of contents and go to a section that is of interest. Since Steve is an editor first and foremost he does a great job interviewing his subjects and has worked very hard on the curation of hundreds of hours or interviews. Amazon is currently listing the book at $36.26 so click on over and get your own copy.

I really love how the printed version of @stevehullfish ART OF THE CUT book divides the interviews by topic.

A post shared by Scott Simmons (@editblog) on May 15, 2017 at 1:19pm PDT

Avid App Manager Closer

God bless Avid and their attempts at making Media Composer easier to install and work with but one downside of a modern Avid install is that both the background services and the Avid Application Manager seem to run all the time. While you can just quit the background processes the App Manager continues with a helper process that runs even after quitting (this is on a Mac, I’m unsure how this works on a PC). Yes you can force quit via the Activity Monitor or you can download the AvidAppManagerCloser thingy that will do it for you.

This little Automator script comes courtesy of the must-read Avid related blog 24p. Click on over there, give it a read and download it if you need it.

Editing Folders generator freebie

Many of us know and love and use Post Haste from Digital Rebellion to get us setup with a defined folder structure when we go to work on a new editing job. But editor Adam Schoales wanted to customize things a bit more and he created a Mac Automator workflow called Editing Folders that does just that and is available as a free download. It only asks you to name when you launch it and then creates a series of folders where you specify.

This is a pretty good set of folders to cover many different edit jobs.

If you want to customize the folders you can open the Editing Folders script in Automator and dig into the shell script a little bit and change those folder names and maybe even add a few more. I didn’t do this but since you can see those folder names in the script I’m guessing it should be easy. But since there’s not support  with this freebie you’re on your own.

Some free custom folder icons

If you just want some new, free custom folder icons then head over to Sam Woodhall’s blog and download his 2017 Post Production Icons. Pretty simple in concept but there is a lot of different categories in the sets Sam has created. The clean, modern design is just nice to look at as well.

Each of those folders you see on the left all contain subfolders of varying types to future organize your projects. They are some specific folders icons for Final Cut Pro X and Adobe CC apps but there is enough in there that any media professional will be able to find some stuff to use.

Sam also includes some blank folder png files so I suppose you could take those and make some of your own. One could also dig through all the folders and remove what you don’t want and create a template set that could be duplicated for each new project. I guess that’s sort of like the Automator script above only you don’t run an Automator script. Thanks to Sam for putting these together and you can thank Sam as well (or leave him a donation for these things) on his blog.

          Timing

As a freelancer I always keep an eye out for time tracking apps because freelancers track a lot of time. And as one who works in multiple NLEs tracking between the different applications and projects can become tedious. This app called Timing was recently brought to my attention and I can’t wait to try it. It looks to have a lot of different analytics to track many aspects of what you’re working on. Timing also says it will track documents so my first test will be to see if it can latch onto an NLE project or Library and actually track it per job and not just per NLE.

Timing has three difference cost tiers ranging from $29 – $79. It looks like the $49 option is the sweet spot with a lot of useful looking options at that price.

 FindrCat (Pro)

Intelligent Assistance introduced a new app last last year called FindrCat. It’s an interesting little Final Cut Pro X app with a cool idea that kind of reverses that you might think in that it takes your Keywords applied in FCPX and turns them into Finder tags in the Mac OS Finder. Those keywords then travel with the files as metadata meaning they are searchable outside of FCPX. Philip Hodgetts talks a bit more about FindrCat on his blog post after the software’s introduction.

FindrCat is $20 and available on the Mac App Store.

Rampant Design NLE Templates

We all know Rampant Design as a creator of great special effects and overlays but they’ve gotten into creating templates for both Adobe Premiere Pro CC and Final Cut Pro X. They create After Effects templates as well but I’m always more interested in cool templates that work directly in the NLE (sorry Avid Media Composer but none for you right now). The PPro templates include things like VHS glitch effects, various promo and lower third designs as well as a slideshow. FCPX templates include some of the same but a few less. And the price is right running at around $20.

Some of these types of things are over the top for most jobs but depending on your need templates like these can save a ton of time if you’re in a pinch or a ton of headaches if you’re not a particularity strong motion graphic designer. And since these are project files you can most likely monkey around with them and do a good bit of customization to fit your need.

FX Factory

It’s always worth catching up with that’s new from FX Factory since the last edition of Useful Tools. There’s a few things I wanted to point out:

Yanobox Mosaic

I’m always by what Yanobox is doing. Their Nodes tools just blows my mind and now they’re released Mosaic for FCPX, Motion, Premiere Pro and After Effects. I can’t explain it so here’s YAnobox’s description: “Mosaic lets you create a wide range of effects based on real time pixel texturing and adaptive tiling. Mosaic includes several procedural recipes but the most exciting use comes with the import of your own motifs to create amazing graphic effects.”

Or better yet watch the video:

Kevin P. McAuliffe wrote up a little review here on PVC so check that out as well.

VideoDenoise and Echo & Noise Remover from CrumplePop.

A new entry into the noise removal category is VideoDenoise. This $99 option is optimized for OpenCL and CUDA which is a good thing as denoising is not for the small computer.

On the audio side both EchoRemover and AudioDenoise have added some new hosts including Logic Pro, GarangeBand, Davinci Resolve and Adobe Audition. I expect we’ll see more and more plug-ins supporting Resolve in the future. All of these CrumplePop tools are $99 and part of the FX Factory ecosystem. Update your FX Factory install and you can get a free demo of most all FX Factory tools as well as purchase the ones you need.

Red Giant Universe

Red Giant’s subscription effects service Universe has gotten an update to version 2.1. And with version 2.1 we get six new effects:

AV Club: Mimic the lo-fi, noisy text found on ancient video tapes, old infomercials and local access cable channel shows.

Luster: The 1980s are back! Give video text the retro treatment with Luster by applying a metal sheen to text – includes a refraction-based bevel for a glassy simulated 3D look.

Title Motion: Create text and shapes and then instantly add dynamic animations that bring them on and off screen. Great for titles, lower thirds, callouts and more.

Ecto: Inspired by the timeless film “Ghostbusters” and Netflix cult-hit “Stranger Things,” Ecto allows artists to create haunting, evolving titles with this glowing, fractal-based effect.

Long Shadow: Apply a colored, long shadow to text, logo or shape, for both classic and modern motion design.

Glow Fi II: Give text an ethereal moody look by instantly adding silky smooth, self-animating, fractal-based glow effects to titles. A simple UI make it easy to apply evolving, organic glows.

Universe is also a package that is supporting beyond the usual FCPX/Motion/Premiere Pro/AE as it also supports Magix Vegas Pro, Hitfilm and Davinci Resolve. Universe costs $99 / year or $20 / month.

Tools, Tips and Tweets from Twitter

Premiere Pro was born 25 years ago. Through film, music videos, and groundbreaking cuts, see how far we've come together. #PremierePro25 pic.twitter.com/OZ6818830f

— Adobe Premiere Pro (@AdobePremiere) April 10, 2017

Interesting read on the effects of social media on our lives. https://t.co/LB7C2r9onv

— Reba Baskett (@RebaBaskett) May 8, 2017

Control + Shift + Eject = Screen Off#MINDBLOWN

— Zeke McGeehon (@zekesauce) April 19, 2017

You can then import that SRT back to your NLE or do whatever you need with it.

— Jiří Fiala (@stooovie) April 18, 2017

At an airport? Need a password for the Wi-Fi? Here you go.https://t.co/dAENL0L3XH

— Mikko Hypponen (@mikko) March 13, 2017

Knot School for filmmakers: https://t.co/YJxmssdtMo #filmmaking

— Filmsourcing (@Filmsourcing) February 20, 2017

Walter Murch on the Difference Between Sound Editing and Mixing https://t.co/9XjNm14YsQ

— lacpug (@lacpug) February 20, 2017

  The post Useful tools for editors: Go Predators edition appeared first on ProVideo Coalition.

First Found At: Useful tools for editors: Go Predators edition

[gamerkats]

Some goblins to light your dash. 😊

[tekaevl]

Here is a little something to think about. Remember in a few years this could be your kids. Let it sink in. Pizzagate is real. 😭😭😭😭😭 It isn’t some right wing conspiracy theory. It's real. It’s always been real. And you can’t convince me otherwise. If you think the Wayfair bullshit makes you sick, then wait. Because what you’re seeing is just a small piece to a HUGE puzzle. This runs deep. People laughed at Pizzagate…. They aren’t laughing anymore. Human trafficking is real. It’s one of the classes you take when you’re fostering/adopting. It’s at least 4 hours. Elite pedophilia is real. Organ harvesting is real. It’s not a new phenomenon. It’s not something that just started. It’s been going on for YEARS. It’s not something that is just going on in the US. It’s happening all over the world. It involves Hollywood. It involves politicians. It involves the Rich. People you look up to are involved. And I get it. It’s hard to wrap your head around what’s going on. It’s hard to imagine something so dark and disgusting going on right under your nose. It’s hard to imagine something so evil is happening to our children. It’s easy to laugh it off as some conspiracy theory. Oh no, not my favorite actor, singer, or politician. Oh no, not Hillary. She can’t be involved. She was going to save us from Trump. The international Labor Organization estimates 40.3 MILLION human trafficking victims GLOBALLY. If you think this is still a hoax or don’t want to come to terms with the fact that an Elite Pedophilia ring exists, ask yourself this: ⭐️Everyone knew about Epstein and his love for underaged girls. ⭐️People were calling Little Saint James Pedophile Island since Epstein purchased the island in 1998. ⭐️With that knowledge, why did Bill Clinton and Obama visit Epstein’s Island? Multiple times? ⭐️Why did the locals report seeing dozens of young kids being taken across there for years? ⭐️Why was Bill Gates a regular visitor there? ⭐️Prince Andrew…. Do I need to say more and why is The Queen going around threatening anyone to run the story if it’s not true? ⭐️You mean to tell me that all these prominent men and women went to his island for one big party? Knowing what they knew about him? It wasn’t a secret. ⭐️What was Epstein using the underground tunnels for? ⭐️Who was Ghislaine Maxwell? ⭐️Did you know she owned a submarine company? ⭐️Did you know she has her sub pilot license? What could she possibly need a submarine pilot license for? ⭐️Did you know the TerraMar project was founded by Clinton Foundation and was located in the Lynn De Rothschild property in Manhattan? ⭐️Chelsea Clinton and Ghislaine are reported to be very close and actually vacationed together. You mean to tell me that Chelsea didn’t know about Ghislaine? ⭐️Remember when Chelsea’s wedding was paid for with money that was supposed to feed starving Haitian children? ⭐️Why did Hillary put Ghislain’s nephew in charge of key Middle East policy decisions when she ran the State Department? You know… the one overseeing US/Libya policy that got an ambassador killed. ⭐️What about the Podesta Emails? ⭐️What was up with John and Tony Podesta’s artwork? ⭐️Would you own any of that creepy shit? ⭐️Why would Obama buy $65,000 worth of tax payers money to have hot dogs fly in from Chicago for a private party? ⭐️Who the fuck is James Alefantis? ⭐️A pizza restaurant owner in DC? Who happens to be named one of the most powerful people in DC? A pizza place? A man that owns a pizza place? A man that has close ties with the Clintons,Obama, Epstein and many more? ⭐️Have you seen his instagram? Oh you probably haven’t… you’re just now looking into everything. ⭐️Have you looked up the art that is in his pizza place? ⭐️You want your kids seeing that stuff? ⭐️What about the dark web login to get into his site and order pizza that cost thousands of dollars? Oh wait… that was taken down. ⭐️What is a pizza place owner doing communicating with the White House? ⭐️What about the Hollywood actor that walked into comet pizza and shot at a locked closet door? The same closet that housed his PC? Odd. ⭐️What about Anthony Weiner? All the emails found on his laptop? ⭐️You mean to tell me that his wife, Huma Abedin, had no knowledge of what was going on? ⭐️Huma and her friend Hillary had NO clue about this 15 year old girl? ⭐️What about the folder titled “Life Insurance”? ⭐️You know the one that housed Frazzledrip with Huma and Hillary. ⭐️The same Huma and Hillary who 9 NYPD have “committed” suicide after watching a horrific video of them doing unspeakable things to little girl? The same NYPD who threw up because what they saw was horrific? ⭐️Speaking of suicide, why has 57 people who were former colleagues and associated ended up dead in the past 30 years? 15 have died of suicide. 8 died in a plane, car, or motorcycle accident and 14 have been found mysteriously murdered. All of these people had info that could have potentially hurt the clintons career. I don’t even have 57 friends 😂😂 let alone know 57 people that I need to add to a hit list. ⭐️Why is James Comey’s daughter is lead prosecutor on the Epstein sex trafficking case? ⭐️Former CEO of Reddit, Ellen Pao admitted they Knew Ghislaine supplied underage girls for Epstein and his pedo buddies? ⭐️The Norwegian Royal Family implicated in Epstein Scandal? Why? Not surprising considering Prince Andrew. ⭐️What about Oprah’s mentor? John of God and Weinstein. You mean to tell me Oprah didn’t know? Come on nowwwwwwww. ⭐️Have you even heard of the NXIVM case? They were just running a sex cult where Smallville actress, Allison Mack were arrested and indicted on federal charges related to sex trafficking. ⭐️What about Laura Silsby? The woman who was tried in Haiti for trying to sneak and KIDNAP 30 children to bring them to the US. Clinton’s used executive order to bring her back without being charged. ⭐️The kicker…… guess who changed their legal name and is in charge of amber alert? Holy fucking shit… Laura Silsby… but let’s not mention that…. People who dig down that hole end up dying…. ⭐️The McMartin Preschool. The Franklin Coverup. Seth Rich. Isaac Kappy. Boystown. The Finders. ⭐️Denish Hastert…. Do you know him? You should. Good buddies with Podesta…. ⭐️Robert Menendez. Mike Folmer. Prominent democratic donor, Terry Bean. David Byrd. George Byrd. All known prominent pedophiles. This doesn’t even cover a quarter of what is going on. This is so much more than Epstein. It’s so much more than Ghislaine. This runs deep and you’re going to be shocked at the ending. Everything. Everything ties together. Everything is connected. So while others are more concerned about COVID, I’m more concerned about saving our children. Copy and paste to your own timelines to get more views. Shares are limited... thanks ZUCK.... Share if you care ♥️ ... don’t ask me to make public. Just copy paste it

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