#maybe i will do invisible writing again where i just make the font the same colour as the page

[shamera]

NaNo day 13

where am i going with this it was meant to be tiny scene tiny scene maybe 4k in total for whole story

guess what. it was even supposed to be time loop for EACH of the three characters, but i feel like it's just gunna end with dfs now because wow this got long and wordy. but then again. nano. if i can't hit the word count, i cry.

He made his way downstairs without disturbing Fang Duobing, and gave Hulijing a pat to keep her quiet as she snuffled up next to him. He would have to call for Wuyan for information and for breakfast in a bit, but in the dawn hours with Lotus Tower parked firmly along the forest road leading up to the strange village surrounded by budding greenery, something twisted within his gut. 

Li Lianhua was curled in bed facing the wall, blanket pulled halfway up his head in the chill of the morning air, hair unbound and trapped against his neck. Di Feisheng stared for a moment, although he didn’t know why, before he deliberately made a noise just loud enough to wake a trained swordsman.

Li Lianhua stirred, movements groggy and slow, and to Di Feisheng’s surprise, he only pulled the blankets up higher before moving to settle back to sleep, only the end of his fingertips showing from the cocoon of the blanket. 

Di Feisheng kicked at the stool again, and this time Li Lianhua made a sighing noise and spoke from beneath the blankets, voice deepened with the dregs of sleep, “Go back to sleep, A-Fei. It’s too early for this.”

“I need to talk to you,” Di Feisheng insisted, although his voice was also quiet in deference to the early morning. His hands untensed knowing that Li Lianhua had known he was there all along, and had chosen to remain sleeping rather than— than what? Had Di Feisheng been interrupted from his sleep like this in his rooms at Jinyuan Alliance, he would have already held a sword to the throat of the offender, if they were lucky. If they weren’t, there would already be blood spilled. 

“Mmm,” Li Lianhua intoned, and turned his head further into the blankets. “Later.”

Di Feisheng didn’t respond, although he also didn’t leave, staring at the bundle of blankets on the bed. 

It didn’t take long before Li Lianhua pushed down his blanket irritably, turning over to glare back at him. “Are you just going to stay there the entire time?”

“Until you listen.” Di Feisheng confirmed. 

“It’s unnerving.” Li Lianhua complained. “No one can sleep with you staring like that.”

“Then stay awake,” Di Feisheng challenged, even as Li Lianhua glared harder. “Get dressed. The day’s already started.”

“Are you going to stare for that as well?”

Di Feisheng was tempted, just to be contrary. But he would rather Li Lianhua be a better mood for the upcoming conversation, so he turned and left Lotus Tower, taking the time to wander far enough to summon Wuyan in his usual fashion to deal with the search for the Styx flower and with breakfast. 

— 

What Lotus Tower lacked, Di Feisheng realised, were walls that were sufficient for privacy purposes. He didn’t understand how Li Lianhua could stand to stay there during harsh winters when there were gaps that constantly needed to be filled or fixed in the tower, several parts more aesthetic than functional. Keeping out rain was bad enough, but sound travelled easily, and he could hear Fang Duobing’s stomping around upstairs when he got back, and there was no way to prevent the words from being overheard when Li Lianhua already opened a window and even had the wall of the back of the house open for the air and the view. 

It was sufficient for one person, but three meant constantly tripping over each other. 

He could see Fang Duobing lean over the railing of the room upstairs, mostly dressed but still looking bleary as he called out, “Have you seen my boots? Are they down there?”

“No,” Li Lianhua answered, voice only the slightest bit muffled despite not being seen. He wasn’t even speaking loudly. “Why would they be down here? Check under the bed, Xiaobao.”

Fang Duobing disappeared back behind the curtains of the upstairs room, and called out moments later, “Found them!”

Shaking his head, Di Feisheng entered Lotus Tower again. 

Li Lianhua was fully dressed and prepared for the day, folding the blankets on the bed and smoothing out the creases in the linens diligently. Di Feisheng took a seat at the bench, and said, “Yesterday, we went fishing and you lost a hairpin in the water.”

Li Lianhua paused in his movements, brows creased. “...Yesterday, we stayed in because it was raining and both you and Xiaobao nearly wrecked my home fighting. Lao Di, what are you on?”

“Yesterday, I told you I have been living the same day over and over, and you thought I ate something off, or that I had a strange dream. I asked you to tell me something that I shouldn’t know, so that I can convince you of my words today.”

“Lao Di,” Li Lianhua said slowly. “You were definitely dreaming.”

“Yesterday,” Di Feisheng pressed yet again, “you spoke of once wanting to be a weaponsmith, before giving up on the idea because you lacked talent.”

Here, Li Lianhua looked perturbed, motion stilling. 

“Li Lianhua,” Di Feisheng addressed him. “This day has been repeating for me for a while now. I live through the day, but when I sleep, I wake to find that it is today all over again. The same morning no matter the weather the night before, the same place no matter where I fell asleep before, the same me no matter if I was wounded the day before. No one remembers living through the day before, and nothing that will happen today has happened yet.”

“An odd statement.” Li Lianhua’s expression was still composed, but his tone was more bewildered. 

“We have investigated the village several times,” Di Feisheng told him. “They attempt to poison us three times on average, and trap us at least once this day. We have left this area to travel in all directions, and had uneventful days that only led back to today once more. You always go along with what I say, but have yet to fully believe me.”

“That’s… a strange story,” Li Lianhua said, and Di Feisheng thinned his lips in frustration. “I’ve never heard of such a thing happening before.”

That was a terrifying thought— that perhaps this had happened to others before, but no one ever heard of it because they continued to live the same day over and over and never made it to the next day where the information might spread. 

Di Feisheng refused to believe that. 

“Help me figure this out.” He said, although the words were gritted. “Or if you still don’t believe me, tell me a way I can make you believe me.”

By now, Fang Duobing had made his way downstairs as well, his footsteps light as he came in the door, confusion evident on his face. Lotus Tower really did not allow for private conversations. 

“Repeat?” Fang Duobing asked, “Lao Di, what do you mean?”

Exactly what he had said, although he understood Fang Duobing’s confusion. Rather, Di Feisheng focused on Li Lianhua, knowing that even Fang Duobing’s response this time around was different and it was because Li Lianhua wasn’t brushing the statements aside as easily this time around. 

There was a tense moment of silence before Li Lianhua resumed folding the blankets, putting them away before coming to sit next to Di Feisheng on the bench, eyes narrowed in thought. 

“Alright,” he said. “Suppose what you said is true. Tell me everything that happened.”

— 

Li Lianhua said, there must be something in the village that triggered this the first time around.

Li Lianhua said, there is a way to convince him this was the truth in the mornings.

Fang Duobing sat opposite them, listening intently the entire time even as Wuyan came by to drop off breakfast, staying a few moments longer to give Hulijing a jerky treat and a scritch behind the ears. The pan-fried meat buns cooled as their conversation continued, marking out details and what could be said and done. 

“Tell me how to convince you again if today doesn’t work out,” Di Feisheng told the both of them. 

“Whatever I tell you, it won’t guarantee anything,” Li Lianhua told him. “We should focus on finding what happened to you in the village.”

Fang Duobing, on the other hand, just shook his head. “It won’t hurt to tell him something. Just in case we don’t find out what happened today.” He looked rather perturbed. “What happens to us, then? If you get sent back to the morning? If we don’t get sent back, then… are you just missing, if we get to the next day? Or do we not exist at all?”

“Try not to think of that yet,” Li Lianhua told him. 

“Tell me something to convince you if today repeats again,” Di Feisheng urged Fang Duobing. “Before, you asked me to predict fortune sticks. I can still do that, but something to convince you immediately would be most efficient.”

“You can predict fortune sticks?” Fang Duobing gaped, and then his gaze turned devious. “What about gambling in town—”

“Don’t,” Li Lianhua interjected quickly. “Pick up bad habits.”

Fang Duobing looked properly admonished, pulling back with a nervous laugh. 

“But Xiaobao had a point with the fortune sticks,” Li Lianhua admitted. “If you could predict, say, something yet to happen, it would be more convincing than words we may have shared.”

“What did you have in mind?”

— 

“Circumstances change from moment to moment,” Li Lianhua said as they set up to grind ink on the plate. “Different movements or time of day would trigger different responses. If I asked you to think of a bird right now, your answer may be different than if I asked you to think of a bird the moment you wake up, merely because you heard a songbird as you woke, or because you just ate something that reminded you of another bird. If I asked for the first colour that comes to mind while we’re in the forest, you may think green, but in here you may think brown. Questions can’t be nebulous like that, but rather grounded in something solid that is unlikely to change.”

“Too confusing,” Di Feisheng dismissed. “Tell me what I should ask.”

“Take the fortune sticks for example,” Li Lianhua ignored him. “A person could throw them twice in a row and get different results. Will likely get different results. Even if the day repeats for you, the results may be different. So it will have to be something you can predict, but we cannot.”

“Then how are you sure you could convince me with fortune sticks?” Fang Duobing asked Di Feisheng suspiciously. 

“Li Lianhua cheated.” Di Feisheng revealed shamelessly. “The results would always be the same.”

Fang Duobing turned his suspicious stare at Li Lianhua, although this time with a twinge of wide-eyed betrayal as well. 

Li Lianhua waved a finger, “You didn’t know that, and he shouldn’t have known that either. That makes it an accurate prediction.”

“That makes it cheating,” Fang Duobing grumbled. 

“Ahh, but he’s not the one doing it, is he?” Li Lianhua placated him, and then turned his attention to Di Feisheng. “Is there anything special that happens through the day not to do with us that you can predict? A tree falling in the forest, a disturbance outside?”

Di Feisheng thought about it for a long while, and shook his head slowly. “Outside of what happens in the village, different events occur each time. The day is calm.”

Li Lianhua rubbed his fingers together and furrowed his brow in thought. 

“Then you’ll have to create those events.”

Di Feisheng raised an eyebrow. “Then I cause it instead and you will not believe me.”

“Not necessarily,” Li Lianhua said. “Say, if you send Xiaobao hunting first thing in the morning, then you can tell me what he comes back with before he gets back. But it will have to be first thing in the morning, before you can influence his actions to change the results.”

Fang Duobing looked between them and then shook his head, mouth in a determined moue. “I refuse to go hunting before the sun is up. I won’t do it.”

“It’s just an example.” Li Lianhua reassured him. 

“...It could work,” Di Feisheng admitted with a smirk as Fang Duobing crossed his arms. 

“The point is,” Li Lianhua interrupted their to-be spat, “that if the day is repeating exactly the same, then you are the only thing changing it. Whatever you don’t change remains the same. Unless, of course, this isn’t truly a repeat of the day, but rather something to make you think it is.”

“Inconsequential.” Di Feisheng dismissed.

“Of course, that’s just to prove yourself in case we don’t believe you.” Li Lianhua frowned, hands pausing on grinding the inkstone. “So long as you give sufficient information, you may not need to prove yourself.”

“Tell me something, then,” Di Feisheng said once more. “That you’ve never said aloud before.”

Li Lianhua set down the inkstone, and Fang Duobing reached to pull the plate away. “Something I’ve never said aloud? There’s usually a reason for that.”

“Something that can’t be used against you.” He thought for a moment. “How did you get your dog?”

“Hulijing?”

At the mention of her name, Hulijing perks up her head from where she was lying in a patch of sunlight, tail wagging slowly. 

“She followed me home one day. Not unlike you two.”

“And you just let it stay?” Di Feisheng questioned. 

“I was still building Lotus Tower then,” Li Lianhua elaborated, reaching for one of the cold buns. “It was at one of the coastal towns. Back then, I had… more health issues. The townspeople were not unkind, but they didn’t like outsiders. I kept mostly to myself, but there was once…” he trailed off, lost in thought, and Hulijing stood from the patch of sunlight and yawned before padding on soft paws over to Li Lianhua, setting her head on his knee. He smoothed a hand against her fur absentmindedly, offering her the bun. “I didn’t account for how sick I was. I couldn’t make it back by myself, so I just sat in an alleyway for a while to catch my breath. She found me and stayed with me the entire time, and then came with me when I finally went home again. Then she never really left.”

“No one helped you back?” Fang Duobing sounded heartbroken. 

Li Lianhua reached to pat his hand. “I was ill, and an outsider. It was kind enough of them not to throw me out. For all they knew, my illness could be contagious. Besides, Hulijing helped me back.”

[goroaix]

I want to love you, they whisper, please let me do so. (It falls on deaf ears)

Sohn Hyunwoo x Fem reader x Qian Kun

Android/Cyborg AU. E2L (sort of) Fluff and lots of Angst.

Graphic depictions of violence. Blood and injuries. Bombings. Self hatred and existential crisis(es?). Bigotry. Mentions of character death. Near death experiences.

63k as of chapter 4/4.

『 Androids were things made in the shadows of human insatiability. The feeling of being a creator was second to none but what could you do when the euphoria turned to deep rooted horror?

What really made you human? 』

If there was one thing she dreaded about her day to day life, it would have to be the ever lingering hours past midnight where the sky should have been lit up with stars, though retained nothing but an inky blackness where the city’s horizon drowned them out. It was always then when she found herself tangled in webs: invisible and wretched ropes twisting around her feet in the hopes of dragging her into the public eye.

Nonetheless, it was inevitable and, as she walked down the unfortunately familiar alleyways and streets, she knew that there was no other option than to resign herself to her fate.

Neon lights shone down on the ground, figures falling across the concrete with uncertainty - shadows of moving branches and far away people melding together into the harsh lines of the surrounding buildings. Same old, same old, really.

Today, she didn’t have much of a plan other than to wander around and make herself as forgettable as possible, the dark coloured clothes she wore helping to aid in this. Maybe she would find something to do, but the likelihood wasn’t very big.

Each footstep echoed, though faded just as soon as it became a reality. She didn’t think much of it, more so happy that her impression wouldn’t last long.

Where could she go? What to do…

She turned into a secluded alley, the abandoned road home to many of the wealthier residents' unwanted and discarded items. Weirdly, she didn’t often frequent these spaces and it was mostly due to the fact that every square inch was always being surveyed and watched with bobbing cameras. It might have been wiser to install hidden cameras, but the cost outweighed the use when all it would capture was footage of rubbish.

There was nothing interesting, the usual designer bags and exponential food waste nothing to be excited about. Then again, one man’s trash was another man’s treasure - or so they said. She picked up a clean bag, holding it at the handles by her fingertips and swinging it as she climbed up on a box and pulled it over the filming camera that dutifully watched over its section up on the brick wall. It twisted and turned in response, trying to nudge off whatever was blocking its feed, but she was more interested in the thing he had noticed hidden amongst the litter.

A large and undisturbed wooden box lay on the ground, its surface covered with dirt and streaks of rain but the vague outline of a banner imprinted beneath the filth had caught her eyes. And so, she kicked away whatever debris there was and reached to grab ahold of it.

Her fingers ached, the thick and bulbous wood of the box scraping against her skin as she used all her strength to haul it upright. A hulking mass teetered in her grip, her body used to stabilise it on the ground with the edge closest to her hitting the ground with a resounding ‘thud!’.

It looked beaten and worn down, rain damage creating ripples on the surface. Ink leaked down the sides, letters creating pools underneath that made it hard to understand any of the writing. Even if she squinted and got up close, there was no hope for reading any of the small and unintelligible font. If only she could get it open; something this heavy almost always had something useful inside. Even if it was nothing but scrap metal, it could still fetch a good price if melted down.

And, if she was honest, she was in no position to turn down anything that could offer her the luxury of money - even if it was hidden within centimetres thick wooden panelling and screws that seemed to be firmly lodged in.

She had no idea how she was supposed to take this thing home with her, but she would try regardless. Stealing another glance at the blocked camera, she pushed the box as hard as she could, her feet sliding under the elevated base to feel wheels underneath. A relieved exhale followed; she wouldn’t have to drag this out after all.

Even so, it was too early to count her blessings and she needed to actually get out of this narrow alleyway before conjuring up dreams of grandeur. Being too cocky had definitely been the leading cause of failure in a few of her plans.

Her fingers slipped and she hissed, grabbing on to it at an awkward angle and feeling a splinter dig itself into her unprotected skin. Even if it stung, she needed to ignore it and dig it out later when time and circumstances allowed her to. Another quick glance to the camera, the bag swaying precariously. She had always hated being watched, almost as much as she hated scrounging around in off road areas.

The wheels creaked, moaning from having to support weight after rotting and rusting, and the wood seemed to fracture despite her never having heard of wood doing such a thing! If she sped down this downhill area, she would get out of the street faster - at the risk of losing control of course.

But, when the camera moved again and the fabric shifted before floating down, she knew that she had to close her eyes and pray that there was no law enforcement lying in wait for her at the bottom. She wheeled it as fast as she could and held on with a foot slotted into the small bar at the underside of the box. This would either end well or completely terribly.

And so, she pushed and down she went. If she could have articulated anything properly at that moment, she would have described the feeling as similar to freefalling, only instead of having a fail safe of a parachute, she had the welcome risk of more splinters. The mix of both fear and adrenaline lasted only a few seconds, the straight road at the end becoming nearer and nearer.

Letting her free foot dangle, the heel of her thick boots scraped against the ground, the friction making her soles hot with the feeling bordering on burning before the box slowed down enough for her to use both of her heels. Either this succeeded or she would end up with a few large bruises.

Wind rushed past her ears, making her tear up with the intensity of it against her eyes. Her grip tightened; almost there.

Her soles continued to grind against the floor before coming to a halt with the slope becoming more gentle. She was sure she had created a variety of skid marks against the tarmac but that hardly mattered now when she was now onto the next leg of her plan: getting back home without running into anyone else. That task would definitely be easier said than done, though, thankfully, it would just be a case of memory application.

Peering around the side, she saw no one there and quickly made her way around the bend - the cameras in this location long disabled by others who also hated being observed.

No sounds of anything other than her own footsteps and squeaking wheels was audible, a happy surprise in all honesty. There was only another few minutes walk left if she sped up and used the collapsing tunnelway.

Yes it was barely holding itself together, and yes she always ran through it for fear of being buried alive in rubble, but you couldn’t limit yourself during a heist like this (or, atleast, that’s what she liked to tell herself).

Therefore, she began to wheel it down the barely there path and past the edges of the border that separated them from the rest. The wheels began to sink into the mud, forcing her into moving with more haste. The lack of natural or artificial light didn’t help either, though that wasn’t much of an issue not after years of being adjusted to the dark. With hefty pushes and shoves, both she and the box made it through into the tunnel and she could finally let her chest loosen a little - no one would dare pursue her in here if they had even some sense of self preservation.

Finally, she thought as she rushed through the crumbling passageway, maybe I can get a decent meal out of this damn thing.

Read the rest on AO3

[jakeyp]

can you do a tut. for this set https://at.tumblr.com/jakeyp/b99-certainly-not-a-tumblr-bot-description/f7a9lvd4z70q

sure but... maybe next time say please at least akjshdk (please)

the tutorial is under the cut!

first off, you need the fonts helvetica, helvetica bold, and helvetica rounded bold (you can just download the whole family adsjd)

let's begin! the dimensions of our gif will be 540 width x 370 height:

ik it says 368 there but... ignore that aksdhsk

!! pay attention to the amount of frames of the gif !!

anyway we have it colored, sharpened and ready, right? we're gonna click here on canvas size:

we're going to make our canvas 540x540, basically we're just changing the height so the gif becomes square, and then we drag the gif to the top of the canvas:

next up, we're going to create a rectangle, the dimensions for it will be 540 width, 180 height, and we'll place it at the bottom:

the rectangle doesnt necessarily have to be black cause themes right? but i like it like this :)

next, for the icon thingy, we have to make a second gif, which will be 110 x 110! it has to have the same amount of frames as the first gif!

covert the second gif to a smart object, and copy paste it on top of the first one:

we place it there, and then move it up 20 px:

to make it circular, create a circle with the elipse tool, it will also be 110x110! place it over your small gif:

now, with the elipse layer selected, and pressing control click on the layer to select your circle:

then click on add a layer mask:

and this is what you'll get:

then, click and hold the mask and drag it to the small gif layer, like this:

we don't need the circle layer anymore so you can delete it or make it invisible!

now that the small gif is circular, right click on it and covert it to a smart object!

then, add a gradient map to it:

now you can make it brigther and even sharpen it if u want!

next up double click on the layer of the small gif and add a strok of 10px to it:

with the gif i chose its not too noticeable but akdksjd formalities :)

now, with the font helvetica bold, size 45, add a text layer and write "Untitled", then make it the color of your gif. using the align tool, i centered it the text on the canvas:

then move it down 178px:

honestly i wasnt precise at all about the position of my text when i was making the set but if u like it to organized this is more or less where the text should be!

next, the description text, use regular helvetica size 18! (im gonna just keyboard smash it for the example) place it below the title:

for the emojis i literally looked them up on google like "winky face emoji windows) cause i had no other choice but if u have an easier way to add them go ahead!

anyway, you have your sexy description:

for the username in the left upper corner, we'll use helvetica rounded bold, size 18:

again, if you wanna be precise about your coordinates, just keep them in mind so they can be the same in all the gifs!

for the lil icons and arrow next to the username, i also googled literally "gift icon" and "loupe icon" etc etc. what i do is i have my image. the icon has to be black and the background white:

i paste it on tumblr and use the magic eraser tool to erase the white part, then set the layer to exclusion and invert the layer! (ctrl + i to invert!)

so we have it there, and now we have to add a color overlay, which we'll set to hard light:

and now make your icon smaller! 22px for the height is okay i think, the width will vary!

then repeat that with all the little icons, (for the arrow we simply erase the white part and invert!) i made the chat icon myself but u don't need to be so thorough!

you don't have to make the icons/text exactly the same size as me! it's okay if its a bit different as long as it looks similar to tumblr akshjskd

lastly, arrange the icons at the top, and voila!

that's it! :) if you have any problems or something i said wasn't understandable you can send another ask!

[rockethorse]

HOW TO MAKE SIMLISH LOOK NATURAL (aka. why typography matters, even if you can’t read the language)

We’re living in a golden age of Simlish (or Simlish-esque) fonts. Gone are the days of trying to recycle the same two or three typefaces without feeling like you live in the Twilight Zone! We have handwritten fonts, digital fonts, fancy fonts, formal fonts, cartoony fonts, and blocky fonts. Now making great-looking Maxis Match, Simlish content is as easy as changing the typeface from a drop-down menu in your graphics editor of choice! Right?

The thing is, typography - the art of type - is incredibly important to the overall aesthetic of an image, even if you can’t read it - in fact, probably moreso than if you could, because you have nothing else to distract you from how it looks. The whole point of Simlish is to maintain our immersion, and our suspension of disbelief, but unnaturally-formatted text can break that immersion even if we can’t read it.

The key to nice-looking typography is balance, and two primary factors to that balance are kerning and line spacing. Kerning is the space between two letters, and line spacing is, as you might guess, the space between lines of text. Your program’s default settings are probably not tailored to your needs, or to the specific font you use, and tweaking them can make a big difference.

Here’s a sentence I put down in a graphics editor in both Arial and a well-known Simlish font (Simlish v3 by SIMale) using my program’s default line spacing and kerning.

It’s not awful, but if you compare the two sentences, the Simlish sentence has much greater line spacing than the Arial sentence, and the kerning is a bit tighter (the double “e”s are practically touching). Here’s a chunk of Lorem Ipsum in Simlish (double gibberish!) to show how it looks in a paragraph, maybe for a book or poster retexture:

Again, maybe it doesn’t seem so bad. It definitely does the job of looking like a page of text. But if this were a real book, the line spaces would probably be a bit shorter, and the letters would be spaced just a tiny bit further apart, like this:

It’s still far from perfect, but it’s starting to look a lot more like “real” text. Because this font was one of the first of its kind, and many Simlish font creators are not professional typographists, not all of the characters are going to fit well with each other, but that’s okay - that wasn’t the point. If you’re just filling space with text like this, you probably wouldn’t need to do much more. Your eyes can glaze over this without being distracted by “gaps” caused by awkward line spacing.

Mostly, this is an issue in Simlish logos, signs, book titles, etc. where inappropriate kerning/line spacing really stands out. Back to the first example:

Again, the top text is using my program’s default text formatting. I decreased the overall line spacing and kerning, but because we’re dealing with less text, I was able to also go in and further tweak the spacing between individual characters. I looked for anywhere there was a large gap between letters, such as the gaps between the capital letters and the rest of the word in the first and third words. I also made the last word larger, to balance out the sentence/slogan - play with the sizes of different words and even the sizes of individual letters if certain fonts are scaled unusually.

One great benefit of Simlish is that it’s not a real language, so you don’t have to care about doing things the “normal” way. Imagine how you might write on lined note paper - that invisible “line” in typography is called the base line, and you can adjust where individual characters sit on the base line just as you can adjust individual letters’ kerning. I adjusted the first letter of the last word to sit below the baseline, and also made it larger than the other characters, to be more symmetrical and fit better with the character next to it. In English, that would look like this:

Which makes the S seem a bit odd, because we don’t usually stylise a capital S below the base line. But Simlish is not English, so maybe that’s normal for a Simlish S! You are free to do whatever you like, so long as the end product looks okay!

Most line spacing/kerning mistakes happen by making the spacing too broad, but be careful of making it too tight, too. Tight kerning is called “keming” because that’s exactly what happens - letters get so crowded they look stuck-together, making them difficult or impossible to read, e.g. joining an r and an n together to look like an m.

... Though, to be honest, that doesn’t look that bad here, because as we established, Simlish is not English, so we can’t really tell when characters begin and end, especially when your texture is 64x64 pixels. So try out different things that you wouldn’t think to do with a real language and see if you like the results.

Hinting and anti-aliasing are also aspects to consider. Anti-aliasing is probably toggled for you by default, and it’s what makes shapes look smooth instead of jagged/pixelated. Hinting affects the clarity of letters at smaller resolutions. Since many Sims textures are quite small, try toggling hinting on/off to see if the image looks better or more clear.

Hopefully there was something worthwhile here. I’m by no means a typography expert, but as Custom Content is many Simmers’ first experience with graphic design, my only goal is to introduce beginners to these basic concepts, and from there, trial and error is the best way to learn.

Again, Simlish is not English, so the concept of Simlish “legibility” might seem weird, but the ultimate design goal of nonsense-languages like Simlish, alien runes, ancient markings, etc. is to recognise what they represent, not what they say. Your eyes slide over it and you maintain your suspension of disbelief. Awkward typography is a universal language, and it can pull you out of that immersion when that might not be your intention.

Happy Simlishing, nooboos!

[koyland]

London: Become Human - Part.2

First of all I would like to thank the support you gave me with this fanfic, it is a wonderful feeling to know that you liked my story. Secondly, only after I posted part one of LDH did I notice the monstrous amount of mistakes I made, and you guys did not say anything! Please inform me if any error is found. This gives me the opportunity to learn from my mistakes and improve my writing.

Unfortunately I can not make promises when the next chapters will be released, but with your patience I will try my best not to be silent for long.

Special thanks to my sister @amandakoy, who is a brutal publisher and a great company to share my shenanigans. She gives me ideas, support and headaches. Love you,sis!

And once again this fanfic is dedicated to the wonderful @reformedkingsmanagent

Pair: Detective!CharlieXAndroid!Reader

Words: 1438

When you finally arrived at the crime scene, a small house on the outskirts of London, it was surrounded by police and neighbors. Stopping right in front of the house, Detective turned off the engine and watched you sitting in the passenger seat.

"You wait here. I will not take too long.”

"As you wish, Detective." You answered, looking at the rain beating against the windshield.

Detective Hesketh's grunt was too low for you to register, but his irritation was evident as he got out of the car toward the house. It did not take long for the warnings to appear in his vision.

Contradictory orders. Choose priority.

The Detective said to stay in the car, but you had clear orders to accompany and assist the investigations. That would not be possible inside the car.

Follow Detective Hesketh

You got out of the car and headed for the house passing through the curious neighbors, barred by the police unit keeping guard. Your proximity to the tape made the Android model PC200 block your entry. You were about to report your guidelines to the droid when the Detective pulled the sleeve of your uniform forward, sending you straight through the tape.

“It's with me.” He said, dropping my uniform and heading back toward the house. “What happened to "As you wish, Detective?” I told you to stay in the car.”

"Your orders contradict my instructions, Detective.”

“Instructions? Fuck! Here are your bloody instructions: do not speak and do not touch anything, dolly. And stay out of my way, understood?”

“Understood.”

“Hey, Charlie.” The police officer at the door spoke, motioning for them to enter. "We were beginning to think you would not show up."

"That was the plan until Barbie here found me.”

The officer evaluated you quickly before turning his attention back to the Detective.

“Finally got yourself an android, huh?” He teased. “Not bad. It's a beautiful model.”

"Fuck you, Rufus. Tell me what happened in this dump?

You entered the house and instantly the Detective pulled the sleeve of his trench coat close to his nose to block the scent of the deceased.

Listen to Briefing

Review Evidence

“The name of the victim is James Spancer.” Rufus indicated the corpse against the wall.

While your system automatically recorded the information collected about the victim, you began to observe the environment around you. The murder weapon, a kitchen knife, it was deposited a few inches away from the body. You crouched down and with two fingers, you took some of the blood from the knife and carried them to your mouth for analysis.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Hesketh asked in horror behind you.

“I'm analyzing the blood. I can analyze samples in real time." You explained. The disgust on the Detective's face made you add. “I'm sorry, I should warned you.”

 "Okay, just do not do that again in front of me. Never again.”

“Understood.”

The warnings in your vision confirmed that the blood collected was from James Spancer and indicated that the murder occurred nineteen days ago. Looking back at the knife your systems showed that there was no fingerprints on the weapon. Maybe an android was involved?

Following the blood trail, you went to the kitchen. The table and chairs were overturned, indicating the victim's confrontation with his murderer. Beside them there was the baseball bat with Spencer's fingerprints on the grip and Thurium's traces on barrel.

You kept investigating the house, now going to the bathroom. Like the rest of the house, the bathroom was small and filthy. You looked around until you stopped in front of the shower. The way the shower curtain looked carefully closed seemed suspicious to you. You opened the curtain and came across several inscriptions made on the tiles, the same word repeated compulsively.

rA9

On the floor of the shower, along with flowers, was a hand-carved humanoid-like statuette. Perhaps a religious offering?

Going back to the room, you walked up to the body to examine it. You have found traces of Red Ice around the mouth and fingers. Moving your gaze now to his chest you counted twenty-eight stab wounds, all applied in the chest region, near the heart.

Looking above the body there was the phrase in red. Your examination concluded that the letters had been written with the blood of the victim.

“I am alive." You read, getting closer to the wall, drawing the detective's attention on you.

“These letters are too perfect." You heard him say. "No human would be able to write that. Rufus, was this written in the victim’s blood?

“We'll know after the exams, but I'm think it is”.

You yourself could confirm both the facts pointed out by the Detective. The font of the letters was the regular letters font CyberLife.

Report to Det. Hesketh

Luckily the Detective was not far. He was leaning against the doorframe, showing signs of irritability as he watched you.

“Detective. I think I know what happened.” You said standing in front of him.

“Really, dolly? Go ahead then, I'm listening.”

“Everything started in the kitchen.” You said, directing him to follow you. “I think the victim attacked the droid with the bat.”

"That matches the evidence. Carry on, dolly! While I'm still young.”

“Then the android stabbed the victim.”

"As if it were self-defense?” He said, frowning. “Okay. What happened next?”

“The victim then fled into the room, falls to the ground and the android kills him with the knife.”

“All right.” He says like one who gives up on an argument. "Your theory is not totally ridiculous, but it still doesn’t tell us where the android went.

“He was damaged by the bat and lost some of Thirium.” You responded by remembering the traces found on the barrel of the bat.

“Lost some what?”

“Thirium. Also known as Blue Blood. It is the fluid that powers androids’ biocomponents. It evaporates after a few hours and becomes invisible to the naked eye.”

“Hum... But something tells me you still can see it, right?”

“Right.”

Find  Deviant.

Look for traces of Blue Blood.

The trail was small but traceable. There was a small portion at the side of the body, making its way back to the kitchen. The path divided, one in the kitchen and the other in the hallway of the house. The blue blood in the kitchen, you supposed was from the initial confrontation, so you followed down the hall.

The trail indicated that the android went to the bathroom. Looking now more carefully you noticed the blue trail across the floor, piling up in large portions in front of the shower. The trail stopped there without any indication to where the android had gone. The only way out would be through the window above the toilet, but it was locked and with no trace of blue blood.

You must have missed something. Going back to the hallway you noticed peculiar marks on the wall. A ladder stood in that corner and it did not appear to be anywhere in the house. You looked up and saw the distinct shape of a hand made of Thirium in the attic door.

Returning to the kitchen, you picked up one of the chairs, causing confusion and frustration with the Detective for seeing you disturbing the crime scene. All of the photos of the crime scene were already properly taken care of for the investigation, so you simply answered that you needed to check something.

With the chair in position you got the necessary height to climb into the attic. The place was dark, dusty and without any indication that someone had been here in years. Silently you started looking for the android. From your peripheral vision, you captured movement.

You walked carefully to the back of the attic. You were approaching the only window in the place when It stepped out of the shadows.

Deviant located.

"I was just defending myself ... He was going to kill me." The bloody android whispered in a shaky voice. “I beg you. Do not tell them.”

“Y/N! What’s taking you so long?!” Detective called from downstairs.

You had a mission to fulfill.

“It's here, Detective!” You screamed.

You could hear curses and orders being given as Detective organized his men to go up in the attic and make the arrest.

The android seemed to cringe at the noise, showing the vulnerability of a prey that was already in the predator's mouth. Despite your face being the perfect picture of neutrality, you did not ignore the anguish look in his eyes or the LED glowing red in the dark.

Mission Accomplished.

[shinobicyrus]

“Familiar Face”

My submission for Phanniemay Day 8: Clones. Surprising myself, instead of Danielle I decided to write a short with my oc Samuel, loosely inspired by kikaiz’s Reverse Trio AU. 

Those first fleeting moments of consciousness as she was spilled out on a cold floor felt less like being born and more like falling into a drugged sleep. A brief moment of lucidity for a life more felt than half-remembered. Crowded halls lined with locker banks, homework, tests, the pressure to fit in and failing, hormones and a quiet heartache. A boy with glasses, a NASA cap, and a goofy-shy smile like a-

She grasped for it and failed, floating through the lab in a fog of numb unreality. Sterile walls, chemical smells in her nose and soakinghher hair, too-bright light blurring away details in a wash of intense white. White walls. White floors. The thin white rubber mat that was her bed. The white leotard that left the pale, white skin of her arms and legs bared and accessible for masked figures in white surgical garb. 

Strapped to an examination table. To a chair that reminded her of the dentist (what does it mean if you dream about going to the dentist? Jaz...someone she knew dabbled in those stupid dream interpretation books)

The inquiries of metal. Little prods and cuts. Needles slipping in and watching her own blood fill a glass syringe; sometimes ruby red, other times viscous and glowing witchlight green.

The tests hurt. She knew that intellectually, but not in that bone-deep, animal panic way. She was numb to it but still hoped it would clear the fog and wake her, but they didn't dig deep enough. She suspected in some back corner of her brain that it had something to do with the things they kept injecting into her, burning numbness through her veins and ink biting into her wrist. The side of her head (shaved recently, but she can’t remember when). Two blocky, jet black digits etched to partner with the crisscrossing red lines on the white canvas of her limbs.  

Mom always said she’d kill me if I got a tatto-

She never felt tired but slept when they told her to- a hope somewhere at the bottom of this well of drugged haze that if she did, she would finally wake up in a home she’d nearly forgotten, back in her room, going downstairs to a cooked breakfast and leaving the dream of the lab on her pillow to dissolve like a broken cobweb.

Sleeping in too late. They were waiting for her. The one with dark dreadlocks and the other with a smile that lit up when he saw the stars. 

Danny?

“Sir, I’m reading unusual theta-wave fluctuations.”

“Adjust the dosage.”

They made their voices clear through the fog with punctuation of scalpel and shocks. She obeyed because the metal was the only time things felt real. 

“Float one meter above the deck. Now, point-five more.”

“Phase your hand through this wall- hold it there. Push it further in.”

“Hold your invisibility and remain perfectly still during the scan.”

“Fire at those targets. Good. Control: increase their speed by thirty percent. I want faster acquisition.”

They were testing her limits. Training her for something. Like in the basement of her mom and dad’s labr-

“Transform.”

“I said do it, Four. Comply.”

I’m...going...ghostly?

(Tucker’s laugh. Maybe we should work on that, Sam.)

Tucker?

“Up the dosage. Twenty milligrams. Just do it.”

Tucker?

A few times she caught sight of a boy she didn’t know in the polished metal of an instrument tray, or in the glass of a window. Young. Short haired. A backwards number four inked into the side of his head. The face floated, ghostlike and unseen, between two men watching her in the window. One in a pristine white white white always white I’m drowning in white suit and dark sunglasses with another man in green fatigues and a chest crowded with ribbons. 

“My God, I have a son that age.”

“Respectfully Colonel, you don’t. Four was decanted less than four months ago. Don’t let it fool you into thinking it’s human.”

“But the briefing said it’s...a hybrid? Half ectoplasm and half human DNA?”

“Humans share seventy percent of their genes with slugs. Mathematically, the menu at a French restaurant is more human than that thing.”

(”Not human, not ghost...” Spectra crooned.)

“Uncle Sam isn’t paying you a hundred million dollars for escargot, Director.”

“No he is not, Colonel. Control: release the specimens.”

A section of the plain white wall slides open and a pack of three creatures float out, swimming in empty air and bombing with swishing tendrils and demented smiles. A lesson enforced at the end of a needle: Class One Malefactors “Oh come on Sam, ectopusses is the perfect name for th-”, circling around the room with the aimlessness of animals set loose in a space larger than they’d been held in.

The intercom crackles. “Four: You are cleared to engage.”

The fight felt so familiar, a moment of lucidity in the violence cutting through the perpetual fog. She flew towards one faster than it expected and punched it hard into the wall, another roared a challenge and charged at her. Instead of dodging she willed herself intangible and let it fly through her, going solid just as it passed so she can grab a bundle of its tentacles, swing it around, and slam it into the third.

They crashed in a confused tangle of babbling shrieks and too-many limbs. She raised a hand a fired a bolt of raw power- splattering the pair into a steaming mess of green goo over the white walls. The first she’d hit launches off the wall towards her, and her intangible feet slipped down through the floor, still leaving of her top-half solid enough to grab the ectopuss Malefactor and slam it on the floor once, twice, and the third time bursting it into a steaming mess. 

The streaks of green ruining the sterile white is satisfying in a way she could not articulate. She thought it was the first time she remembers smiling ever in a long time.

“Well I’ll be damned. That’s one scrappy little slug.”

The intercom again. “Release Subject Two.”

A new section of wall opens behind her. This time with the suggestion of something wrapped in glowing blue chains and a white tarp. A buzzing, electronic click powers down the chains, and the medical tarp reserved for cadavers was shredded by a glowing green skeleton, everything below the ribs missing, save for a pair of upsettingly familiar eyes crammed into two sockets.

“Two. Four. You are cleared to engage.”

They both look at the spot on the wall where the voice came from, then each other. The skeleton moves first, faster without the extra mass slowing it down and more comfortable in the air. It’s voice is a wail echoing in empty bones, slashing wildly with bony talons. 

One slashed across her side, tearing the leotard. Her blood is green today, leftovers glistening on the skeleton's clawtips. It cut through the fog, and she laughed as she dodged the follow-up strikes.

“Come on, dazzle me!”

It’s fast but reckless, vicious but too simplistic. It’s easy as learning combos in Immortal Kombat, her boys groaning as she performs yet another fatality to learn its patterns, catch it by the wrist in the middle of a wide slash, and tear the bony arm out of its socket. 

The bone of its skull had a 02 etched into it in the same font as her tattoo. She learned this because she saw it before her boot crushed it like a piece of old pottery.

“Sir, I think we should halt the test here. We’re showing elevated-”

“If it can’t handle the stress here, it’s not good to us in the field. Release Subject Three.”

At first she’s not sure what she’s seeing. A darting green light that could fit in her palm, darting in erratic patterns that leave little neon trails in the air. It doesn’t wait for an order to attack- she saw nothing but the afterimage of a streak and is hit with a fastball, dense like a dwarf star

“Red dwarfs make up most of the stars in the galaxy” he’d said, laying down on the ground next to her and pointed at the sky. “It’s actually pretty amazing just how rare our sun i-...”

Another hit in the solar plexus drove the wind out of her, it blinks like a firefly, bobbing away lighting-fast and going for her head. 

She lifted her hand and fired a burst of green, wide and imprecise but enough to stun it, she backhands it and it scatters into a dim green mist. 

At first she thought it was over, but the mist still hungin the air, swirling and collecting itself until it formed the shape of a young girl in a lime-green jumpsuit, white haired, green eyed and-

That. That face. 

She knew that face. 

The girl in the mist wavered like a mirage, her face distorted like a funhouse mirror. It hissed wordlessly at her with bulging, mismatched eyes, face sloughing like runny paint. 

There’s no strategy, no clever follow-up. She roared and tackled Three, driving it into the ground with an inhuman shriek.

Whatever flimsy consistency held it together collapses under his fists. Ectoplasm singed his knuckles, each blow molding the creature’s into something blissfully unrecognizable until the shifting, bubbling mass of green- began to reshape itself back into-

“STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!” 

Straddling on top of it, holding it down and phasing with it whenever it tried to slip away, she kept pounding the notmenotmenotme until the mist condenses into the consistency of abused wax, a vaguely human-shaped puddle of bubbling green. 

“Four! Stand down! That’s an order, Four!”

She shoved away the melted arm that tried to reach for her and saw something in the puddle. Another person looking at her, in the reflection of the puddle of what used to be Three. 

That boy again. Young. Too young. Hair chopped short for the backwards tattoo on the side of his head. His face contorted into disgust and horror and fury.

She punches it again. “YOU.”

Again. “AREN’T.”

“ME.”

Pain explodes in Samuel’s fist and he tumbles backwards, clutching it close and biting back a scream in his teeth even as he lands badly. Blind and in the dark.

A light clicks on and he winces, squinting. Legs kicking, trying to push himself upright with only his feet and elbows. 

“Sammy! Sammy!” 

A pair of hands on his shoulders, steadying him. His eyes adjust enough to see Danny, looking strange and bare without his glasses. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe.”

He does his best to follow the advice. He looks around, everything coming back as the last of the haze clears. He’s on the floor in Tucker’s room. It was...it was just a guys’ night: pizza and video games and bad sci-fi movies and talking about thoughts and fears in the safety of the dark. 

Tucker’s standing next to his desk lamp in boxer shorts with cute Lovecraftian monsters on them, blinking owlishly without his contacts. “What’s going on?”

“I...” Samuel looks up and sees a massive crack in the mirror above Tucker’s dresser. A fractured, spiderweb pattern with flecks of green in the center. “I think I was sleepwalking.”

“More like nightmare-punching.” Danny holds out his hand, palm up. “Show me.”

Samuel agrees without thinking, taken off balance by his sudden assertiveness. Danny’s in pajama pants and a hole-ridden Star Trek t-shirt that probably should have been thrown out two years ago. His injured hand is an imitation of a dead spider- curled and twitching. He tries not to jump when Danny’s warm hands take his and turns it over. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

“I’ll be fine. I heal fast.” 

“You should still put it in like...ice or something,” his brow furrows with worry. “Does it hurt?”

“I’ve had worse.” He says, and doesn’t miss the way Danny is looking at the scars on his arm. 

Tucker crouches next to them. Samuel is so crowded by well-meaning concern he is simultaneously chafing under it and willing to do anything to keep them from leaving. “I’m sorry about your mirror.”

He shrugs. “It’ll probably be weeks before either of my parents notice. If they ask I’ll just say I did in like, a fit of hardcore protest against our bullshit appearance-obsessed culture, or something.”

“Does this mean you won’t be wearing make-up, then?” Samuel asks. 

Tucker rolls his eyes and pulls out a black compact from somewhere, which is a feat because he’s still only wearing boxers and it is distracting.”My makeup isn’t to look pretty it’s to rage against the Man, Sammy. Huge dif.”

“Sam?”

Amazingly, Samuel doesn’t wince. “Yeah?”

Danny is still cradling his hurt hand. “Do you want to talk about it?”

From his angle on the floor the mirror is just showing a fractured, broken image of Tucker’s room all thrown in lamplight and midnight shadows. He’s not entirely sure what he’d see if he stood up and looked into it- but he’s grateful that if he had to have a horrible nightmarish flashback, he didn’t do it someplace where the first thing he’d see when he woke up was Samantha’s face. 

“Can we just...stay up for the rest of the night? I don’t really think I can manage sleeping, anymore.”

“Yeah, sure.” Danny smiles at him. “Of course. Anything you want.”

Tucker puts a reassuring hand on Samuel’s shoulder...and using it so he can push himself up and announces. “Welp. In that case, I should probably put on some pants.”

[jamalam]

Hold On To Let Go Chapter 9

@empyrealsakaki @misstaurusie @virusap

Thomas had been acting strange the whole time they’d been in here. Each time Alexander glanced up to check on him, the taller boy’s eyes darted into looking at another thing in the room, as if he’d been staring at Alex the whole team he read. Sure, it was easy enough to arrive at the conclusion that Thomas was staring at him, but the thing Alex couldn’t wrap his head around was why Thomas would choose to do such a thing.

The easiest answer was that Alex made an easy target at the moment. His head cast down in a strange mixture of concentration, fear, and confusion at why Thomas hadn’t been treating him like usual. However, that didn’t mean Thomas would continue to act so kindly toward him. Alex supposed that it was only a matter of time before Thomas threw him to the floor, books clattering down along with him, pages fluttering in the air like feathers on a bird’s wings.

Alexander sighed softly in defeat and abandoned the idea in favor of studying, which he did a very poor job of. Instead, he focused on his wrists, absentmindedly tugging down the wrist cuffs of his grey hoodie as he did so. Had Thomas see the razor sharp lines caused by razor sharp blades, cutting through the words written to him like a letter from an angel as the letters fell apart, beneath trailing crimson blood?

Pushing the thought aside, as he had done with the previous one, Alexander turned the page, trying to lose himself in the thick daze he tended to fall into when ever he was fully engrossed in the topic he studied. But it quickly became evident to him that such a state of being only overcame him when he was writing, his hand flying across the page and leaving skid marks of graphite behind it. Daring to look up again, he was finally quick enough in the movement to stare Thomas in the eyes, if only just for a moment. Thomas’s dark eyes widened in the shock of being caught staring at Alexander, biting his lip nervously as he found himself unable to pull his gaze away from the significantly smaller teen sitting cross-legged next to him on the bed.

“What are you staring at?” Alexander asked after a moment, his voice nearly silent in confusion swirling through his mind like caramel being poured slowly, spiralling around and around and around. “If you’re gonna hit me, please don’t do it while my parents are home.”

Thomas felt his heart stop briefly as he processed Alexander’s words. He found it strange that the request shocked him- after all he had done to the shorter teen over the years, it was only rational that his thoughts would trail towards that as a very real possibility. But then why did it hurt so much?

Of course, the answer was an easy one to find. The green ink swirling against magenta pen markings on his arms was enough for his mind to show him the solution. Alexander was his soulmate. And although when Thomas pictured a future, he could easily see himself carrying a small child on his shoulders with Alexander beside him, he knew that Alex and himself shared nothing more than a platonic connection. But platonic connections could be strong. Very strong. Perhaps as strong as the invisible force that had pulled him to Alexander when they first met. But the force that Thomas packed behind each hit was not the same force. No, that force was his own.

“I… I won’t hit you…” Thomas answered, struggling to keep his voice even and prevent his gaze from being anything other than freezing cold towards Alexander. “I just… You look weird when you read.”

“Okay. Thanks for telling me… So I was thinking we could do a slideshow? It’d be easy enough for me to make all the slides, and I just need to type your name in the corner in some sort of cursive font-”

“No!” Thomas interjected, cringing as his voice was louder than he had intended. “I… No. I want to work on my fair share of the project. It’s only fair.”

Alexander’s eyes narrowed at Thomas’s words. Since when did Thomas Jefferson, of all people, care about fairness when it came to Alex? Certainly not the Thomas that Alexander had grown to hate and fear simultaneously. “...Okay then. You can choose whatever sections you want, I’ll take what’s left over.”

“Actually, I don’t know much about this subject, it’s not really my best class. You choose whatever you think I’d be best at,” Thomas replied, holding back a grin at Alexander relenting easily, while also being entirely unaware that Alex only did such a thing because of his history with Thomas.

“Then maybe you could do sections 4.1, 4.5, and 4.6? They’re the easiest ones, so it’d be the least work for you, and I’d be totally fine with doing the title slide, too-”

“I don’t want you doing all the work,” Thomas cut him off, internally screaming at himself that this was a horrible idea, and treating Alexander so drastically differently after only a few short days of working together was a recipe for disaster. But he was determined to be kinder to Alex, no matter what. Platonic or not, Alexander was his soulmate. “I want to help. It’s a group project, and we should be a team.”

Alexander stared back at Thomas with a look of pure bewilderment on his face. He could understand a stoner kid suddenly acting like this, or some random dickhead on the football team, hell, even James Madison- but Thomas? This was… unsettling, to say the least. And saying the least possible was Alexander’s goal. “...Alright. You take the first three, and I take the last three and the title slide?”

“I actually wanted to do the title slide- if it’s not too much trouble,” Thomas replied, feeling his heartbeat drastically increase from the steady pace it had been at earlier. “I like doing title slides. It’s my favorite part of slideshow projects.”

“Then you can do it,” Alexander told him, looking back down at his book. His head hurt and his breaths were coming out uneven because he must be crazy, this wasn’t Thomas, what was wrong with his head?

Thomas must have noticed Alexander’s panicked state of mind, because he quickly stood up and shoved his books into his bag, avoiding looking at Alexander at all costs. “I need to get home, now. This was fun. See you at school tomorrow?”

“I… Sure, yeah…” Alexander mumbled, fighting the urge to pull his knees up to his chest in effort to calm himself down.

Thomas nodded and hid a smile, tossing his bag over his shoulder and quickly walking out of Alexander’s home, returning to his car and buckling in. He frowned when he saw his shirt sleeve roll up and new green words were on his wrist, so soon after his encounter with Alex. Biting his lip once more, he drove a few blocks away from Alexander’s home and parked in front of an empty field where he had used to play kickball with his friends during long summer days.

Rolling his sleeve up, Thomas took out a pen and began to prepare for what would most likely be a very informative conversation with Alexander.

Can you talk right now? I need someone, and you’re the only person who I know won’t judge me.

Yeah, I’m free right now. Is something wrong? Is it that Jefferson guy?

Yeah, it is. He was acting… nice.

Isn’t that a good thing?

It is but it made me really uncomfortable. He’s always been a dick to me, and now all of the sudden, he’s all buddy-buddy with me. I don’t like it and I’m really scared right now.

Why are you scared?

Because whenever he’s even a little bit nice to me, it’s to lure me into some sort of cruel prank. It’s never fun or funny and I don’t wanna go through that.

I’m sure he’s just trying to make up for being a total asshole to you. I bet that after so long of treating you like trash, he finally realized how wonderful and perfect and beautiful you are.

I’m not beautiful.

Yes you are.

How would you know that?

Because someone like you has to be as gorgeous as the sunset trailing across the sky, clouds trailing behind like kites being dragged by laughing people in love running on a beach and watching the sun say goodnight. And I love you. That makes you beautiful. At least, to me.

[love-y-o-u-3000]

TST, PHONES AND TEXTING... AND WHY NOTHING MAKES ANY SENSE

I thought it’d be useful to have all the weird phone-related stuff in one place, even though, if I have to be entirely honest, it’s such a mess that it might not actually be useful at all. But still, here goes.

PART I - JOHN’S PHONE + DIFFERENT TEXT ALERTS

As we all know, John’s text alert changes at one point in TST... but why? We can only guess. One of my theories is that one buzz indicates that the scene is fake, but somehow that doesn’t really sound right anymore. Another one of my theories is that John simply changed his text alert, so he knows when he receives a text from E (just like Irene changed Sherlock’s text alert), but, then I can only hardly explain why the bus/bed are scenes shown twice and each time differently. Unless... unless the FIRST bed/bus scenes were fake and once we see them again, they’re showing us what had really happened. Which, however, I don’t understand, why? Not enough scenes to fill 90 minutes with? I doubt that. Then again, it might be that we, as an audience, are not supposed to know that John cheated until “the secret” is revealed, which is the moment in the plane, when John starts feeling guilty about it. And, actually, one of the other things that supports this assumption that bed and bus scenes #2 are real, is the fact that Eurus in TLD mentions John’s nice eyes again, which only happened in bus scene #2. True, she doesn’t say anything about texting, which, is weird, but still. This theory makes me super sad though, cause John acts like a right arsehole, what with smirking at E and flirting like he isn’t even married. Too bad, it’s what makes the most sense.

Anyway, back to the point... I know, this might look really silly, but I don’t know how else to demonstrate. So, 6 times when John receives a text, 4 times it buzzes twice with a pause, 2 times it buzzes just once.

07:03

09:37

33:12

1:06:21

1:06:53

1:11:13

If we ignore Bus and Bed scenes #1 and consider them fake, it’s entirely plausible that John attached a different text alert to E’s name. But... Why does it buzzes just once when he receives a text from SHERLOCK then? Well, I talked about this yesterday, I have many theories:

This text has not been sent by Sherlock

John has been sexting with Sherlock all along... which, okay, is just wishful thinking of course, but you do have to admit that John’s conversation with E about vampires and night owls is pretty weird, especially considering the fact that an owl is in “Ella’s office” and there’s hidden ELLA inside the number E gave John, then the invisible clock ticking in Ella’s office and the Cheating soundtrack sounds like clock ticking fast, and of course Sherlock’s “I delete John’s texts. I delete any text that begins ‘hi’“ line and then John sending a hey text to E, which I mentioned yesterday too.

It could be that what Sherlock describes in TLD happened: SHERLOCK: Okay. Though I should mention that it is possible for any given text alert to become randomly attached to a ... (x) I mean, he lied of course, cause he indeed had been texting with Irene and he didn’t want to tell John, but still, why throw in this line? Maybe it means something, maybe it doesn’t.

They tricked us and it wasn’t actually John who received the “London Aquarium. Come immediately. SH” message and both of them were sent to Mary. I mean, she has risen and immediately knew where to go, without seeing John’s message. It could be that we’ve actually never seen the message John had received, at all, but, honestly, I am not really fond of this theory cause it’s such a major stretch, especially because these two messages appear in sync with John/Mary picking their phones. 

Either way this situation is EXTREMELY ODD. Let’s say it was Sherlock. He told John to come immediately but he didn’t even ask Mary to come at all. So why John insists that she must go? And, like I said, this scene is very odd for a number of reasons. First of all, Sherlock signs off both those texts, BUT a) he’s not signed off any other text in TST and b) even when you compare it to any other that he does sign on the show, it’s done in a different way. And then, I know he can type fast, but these two messages show up nearly at the same time. It.is.odd. And that’s not even all. Let’s remember this, shall we...

This wouldn’t be weird if these two screencaps weren’t separated by five seconds only. John puts his phone into his left pocket but then he’s pulling it out of his right pocket. Could be continuity error, could be that he decided to put his phone into his right pocket while the camera was on Mary. Who knows. I don’t have any answers yet.

That’s all, I think, regarding this scene and the weirdness surrounding John’s phone, so let us move onto part 2, shall we.

PART II - DIFFERENT FONTS

Yes, for some odd reason, there are two types of fonts used when people are texting in TST. I don’t remember, maybe it happened before? Idk. And in fact, these differences are very, very subtle, in fact, most letters look exactly the same, but some doesn’t, here are a few examples. (Many, many thanks to the person who once pointed this out to me, wish I could remember their url)

Now, font 2 is what usually appears on screen, when SHERLOCK’s typing. Whether he’s writing down a case.

Or texting.

EXCEPT, once... and that’s the odd thing about it. Only once when we know for sure that it’s Sherlock’s texting, font 1 appears on screen. And it’s when he texts John this...

But... like... why? Each other time he uses font 2 AND he is the only one using it.

John and E both use font 1

I can’t possibly imagine, what any of this means though. Maybe someone mixed up their fonts, maybe it’s a continuity error, maybe both John and Sherlock have a secret phone they use to sext with each other lmao, maybe none of this means anything at all. As you can see, I have plenty theories but none of them lead anywhere at all, cause all of them make sense in some way but then don’t in another. I wish I had a theory that could explain all of this though. It’s like there is no connection there, it’s like it’s done randomly, like the skull painting glowing randomly. I don’t see any pattern... yet, but I’l continue thinking about it.

[sectumsemphra]

character posters tutorial

Hii people! It’s me Ash. I’ve been getting questions about the character posters lately, and I remember I may have promised to write a tutorial about it once. So.... on this very early Monday morning, I think I want to give it a try. ‘Try’ being the keyword ‘cause I’m going to be honest that I’m rubbish on explaining things. Feel free to hit me up if you’re confused. Nonetheless, I hope this could help you in some way! 🌹🌹🌹 

WHAT YOU’LL NEED:

Pictures for the posters

Adobe Photoshop (I use CS5)

Basic knowledge of PS maybe

Patience

Check the end of the post to see the result.

HOW TO MAKE DOODLE CHARACTER POSTER(S):

1. Start your Adobe Photoshop and open the picture you want to use for the poster. For this occasion, I used this picture:

Original picture is the one on the left and I cropped it to 300px x 400px so it looks like the one on the right.

2. Prepare the brush. Use default brush, set it to 3px with hardness level 100%.

By the way, you can change the colour of the brush to match the picture’s colour scheme. Like, for example, dark yellow brush for black & white pictures, etc. But for my posters, I mostly use white.

3. Alright. Now I have the brush set and the picture is already opened on my workspace. The next thing is to draw the doodles. So I make another layer for it (shortcut: Shift+CTRL+N).

4. Basically you just draw the doodles on that layer. You can follow the shape of the subject’s clothes, hairline, or draw a whole new set of original doodles. I’m gonna make both type for this one. First, I trace the shape of the subject’s clothes in this pic. It looks like this:

For the precision, I zoom-in the picture. Then move the brush using the touchpad/mouse. After I’m done with the first doodle, I make another layer and start a new doodle on it, still following the clothes shape.

By the end of this step, I have two new layers; both are the doodles for the subject’s clothes.

5. Next step, let’s make it move!

Go to the Window tab on the top bar of your Adobe Photoshop and select Animation.

6. Your workspace will look like this:

See that Animation tab on the bottom of the screen? It is set in Frames view. If yours looks different (set in Timelines), all you need to do is click the tiny icon on the bottom right of Animation tab. It has three little boxes and if you hover your cursor to it, it will say ‘Convert to Frames Animation’ or something.

7. Okay. Now you have two layers of doodles. I don’t know how to explain this, but that means you also need two frames, so each doodle can have its own frame. Just click the frame, and click this icon to duplicate it.

By the end of this step, you have two frames under your Animation tab.

8. Next, click on the first frame. Look at the Layers tab and click the empty box beside Layer 1 (a.k.a 1st doodle) to make it visible. Then you click the second frame and do the same with the empty box of Layer 2 (a.k.a 2nd doodle).

Layer 1 has to be invisible on your second frame, or else it will look messed up when you start the animation.

Also note that any change you do on the first frame will affect the rest of the frames, but not the otherwise. It means, if you make Layer 1 visible on the first frame, it will also be visible on the 2nd, 3rd, 4th, etc. But if you make the Layer 2 visible on the second frame, it won’t be visible on the first frame.

TL;DR - after you click the second frame, untick the box beside Layer 1 to make it invisible in second frame.

9. Now, change the time delay because 10 seconds is just too goddamn long. Hold the shift button and click the unselected frame. Then click that black tiny arrow.

For this kind of doodle, I usually change it to 0.3 seconds.

Oh, also don’t forget to change the loop setting. Simply click the ‘Once’ thing you see there and change it to ‘Forever’.

10. By this step, your doodle gif will look like this:

11. But I feel it’s still too empty. Even if you put the text above the subject’s head, there’s still plenty of space to put something. How about we make another set of doodles? I feel like making this:

How to make it move?

12. Create new layer and draw four little lines on it. For this one, I want the animation where they appear one by one.

So I duplicate the layer (Layer 3) three times, hence there are four of them. (I renamed them to: Layer 3-1, Layer 3-2, Layer 3-3, and Layer 3-4).

On Layer 3-1, I erased three other lines.

On Layer 3-2, I erased two other lines.

On Layer 3-3-, I erased only one last line.

On Layer 3-4, the lines are complete.

Just like I said with the clothes doodle, if you have four layers, that means you need four frames.

(Note: I actually wanted to make it 5 frames, so the doodle lines thingy will disappear for a moment before reappearing again from the start. But there are only two clothes doodles and it just doesn’t flow nicely when one doodle has more frames than the other.)

(Note again: OR you can change it to only three lines and problem’s solved. Just think about this now, sorry.)

With some changes on the layers, now you need to recheck your frames.

Start from the first frame, make sure nothing else is visible other than the Layer 1 (first clothes doodle) and Layer 3-1 (first lines-doodle).

With the second frame, it’s only Layer 2 (second clothes doodle) and Layer 3-2 (second lines-doodle).

With the third frame, back to Layer 1 (first clothes doodle) and Layer 3-3 (third lines-doodle).

And so on.

(Note: For the four-lines doodles, you can also make them on separate layers. That means each layer only has one line. So the animation process will be like: First frame (first layer visible), second frame (first and second layer visible), third frame (first, second, and third layer visible), etc. That way you don’t have to bother making sure the the first layer of lines doodle isn’t visible on the following frames. Why I just think about this now ARGH. Okay, moving on.)

13. So far, the gif will look like this:

14. Next, to make the pic looks more ~aesthetic~, we need to do some adjustments.

For this one, I simply played around with Gradient Map and Selective Color (check the Adjustment tab on the right side of the screen). But if you want, you can put some PSD to the picture. @completeresources  @chaoticresources and @itsphotoshop have so many graphic PSDs you can try.

How to use them? Just open the PSD and drag the group (little folder icon) onto your picture. Make sure to position it above the pic’s layer and under the doodles layers.

15. Okay, one last thing to do: put the text on the picture. Click this thing and type anything you want.

Erm.

(Predictable.)

For my edit, I mostly use font Montserrat. With some customized settings and all that (Check the Character tab above the Adjustment tab).

16. Save it in GIF format:

17. Don’t forget that the Looping Options has to be set to ‘Forever’ or else your gif will freeze after the first loop.

Click ‘Save’ and it’s done! :)

THE RESULT:

Ok. The first pic’s done, then you just need to repeat the process for the others. That’s it! I hope it helps and good luck! x

[apocalyptic-girls]

Collaborator's writing (supporting media)

It was over. Jackie was dead. They were here, burying her in the middle of September under the pouring rain at the one of Paris’ pretentious cemeteries. Le cimetière du Montparnasse, exactly as Jackie wanted.

‘Won’t you like it… to be buried at Père-Lachaise?’, asked Anna when they were watching Paris, I love you snuggled on the couch next to each other, ‘just like all these famous people’.

‘Nah’, Jackie yawned and stretched. ‘That would be too weird. I want to be buried at Montparnasse Cemetery though’.

‘How is that less weird?’, Anna looked at her and laughed. She was eating some popcorn they made together for the every-Friday movie night.

‘Well, maybe it is not exactly less weird, but you can see it from Tour Montparnasse. It always kind of fascinated me, such a great view’.

‘So you want all these tourists to look at your grave from the top every day?’

Jackie smiled. ‘They won’t be able to see my grave from there, but it is nice to know that someone is… watching you, even after you’re dead’.

‘You are nuts’, Anna laughed again. Jackie started laughing too and Anna thrown some popcorn at her.

She had such a sweet laughter. Anna pulled the hood of her raincoat over her head, tired of cold drops coming down from the grey sky. Her hair and her face were wet and without realizing it she started shivering.

‘Have she ever told you why she wanted to be here?’, Anna asked Georgia, who was standing beside her, staring absently at the stone with Jackie’s name on it.

‘No, she haven’t’, Georgia replied in a low voice.

‘She liked that stupid tower so much’, Anna turned around and pointed her hand at Tour Montparnasse, which seemed emotionless and still. The top of it was invisible because of a thick September fog.

‘I bet no one can see you now, Jacks’, Anna thought to herself.

The service was over, everyone started slowly getting to their cars. Anna, Georgia and Greta stayed exactly where they were, right in front of Jackie’s grave. The rain increased.

They were silent for a long time. Motionless and speechless they stared at the graveyard stone unable to believe that from now on it was the thing that represented their friend.

‘She wouldn’t like that font’, said Greta, finally breaking the silence. Both Anna and Georgia chuckled.

‘She wouldn’t like the weather either’, Georgia wiped tears.

’Yeah, the only thing that she would like is the stupid place’, Anna kicked the dirt under her feet.

‘She loved Paris’, Georgia nodded.

‘Stupid Paris’, Anna uttered. ‘Stupid Paris that got her killed’.

‘Are you angry at me?’, asked Jackie when they were walking through the Tuileries Garden one sunny summer day.

‘For what?’, Anna raised her eyebrows.

‘For dragging you here from Dublin. I know you loved it down there…’, Jackie looked somehow sad and it made her even more beautiful than she already was. Anna looked at her and she saw a bright ray of sunshine on her face that made Jackie’s freckles sparkle. It made Anna happy and she was aware of that feeling. She stopped, put her hands on Jackie’s neck and slightly bent to kiss her on the lips.

‘I love being wherever you are’, she said after that. ‘My heart aches for Irish rain, but I must admit - it is nice to feel the heat and see the sun from time to time’.

Jackie laughed.

‘I love Paris, Jacks. No less than I love Dublin. No less than I love you’

‘I love you, too’, Jackie put her hands around Anna and hugged her. ‘It’s just…’

‘What?’, Anna stroke her short curly hair.

‘I have a weird feeling. I’ve never been away for so long… I’ve never been away from Georgie and Greta for so long’

‘Well, they chose to go to States themselves and this is not what you wanted, right?’

‘Yeah, but… It is strange. We spent all our lives together and now…’

‘Your life isn’t over, love. They promised to visit on holidays. Plus, don’t underestimate me. Paris is beautiful and arty, but it doesn't mean that I can’t make you to change your mind some day about leaving it’, Anna laughed, but Jackie gave her a sad smile.

‘And of course I fucking couldn’t’.

Anna felt Georgia’s hand on her shoulder. ‘It is time to go’. All three of them were soaking wet, Greta started sneezing.

‘You go, I’ll be in a minute’

‘Will you be okay?’, Anna caught the glimpse of worry in Georgia’s walnut eyes.

‘Yes. There is just one thing that I should tell her’

‘Fine. We will be waiting in the car’, Georgia grabbed Greta by the shoulders and together they started making it through the cemetery’s mud towards the car. When they were gone Anna sat on the ground and crossed her legs in front of Jackie’s grave.

‘You know what is very strange, Jacks?’, she started in a low voice, ‘after you died, me, Georgie and Greta all saw the same dream. Each of us was swimming… crossing some river. Georgie and Greta woke up somewhere in the middle of the dream, they didn’t reach the other shore, but I made it. I made it and I saw you there. It is funny, you were living in a wooden house and… you were happy. You gave me ginger tea and a towel, but I wasn’t even wet. I asked if you need anything and you said you have everything you need now. I asked if you play for me and you said that you can’t do it. There was something about that house, you couldn't play there… But you could sing and you sang for me a little bit. And then you walked me back to the river and gave me a big hug. It was a dream, but I remember the physical feeling… I could even smell your hair. The strangest thing is that I knew that it was the last time I see you and I tried to stop the time, I tried to be as much as I can in the present moment, to remember everything about it. In a way, I think, I succeeded. No one ever gave me a hug like that. It felt like there is something you want to tell me, but won’t do it even if I ask. And it was a ‘see you in another life’ kind of hug, at least for me…’, Anna’s voice cracked, tears rolled down her cheeks. ‘Then I turned around and I jumped into that cold dark river and I swam back. I don’t know why I couldn't stay with you. I don’t know why you didn’t let me’.

She went silent. She sat in front of the graveyard stone with Jackie’s name on it for some more time, then slowly got up.

‘I remember the day I knocked at your door and saw you for the first time. I did not know what would happen, how much would I care for you later, but somehow this first second — the smile on your face — I remember it as clear as I remember that last hug. Time is not real, Jacks. We shall meet again’.

Anna turned away from the grave and closed her eyes. When she opened them, she saw it. Detached, standing alone piece of metal in the distance. Someone was watching her from Tour Montparnasse. Anna knew that it was Jackie.

[juznaslovaska]

fictions, we need them so much

Ever since I moved out from Poland for the first a couple of moments after coming back are marked with a state of heightened perception and overclocked pattern recognition. There is a certain disbelief attached to it. Am I really from here? Is that how I remembered it? Sometimes it might be days, like when I came back from summer job vacation in the UK. I was quite sure that suddenly I discovered that that my country really is this sad land of endless gloom, to add ofense to injury, with polar bears missing. I came back from known for rain, yet sunny then, island and at home it was raining. It was September but it felt like winter already came. I guess I was mostly just lost finding myself out of established scheme of work-movies-work-movies and terrified with perspective of starting engieneering studies. There is also certain joy to it. Last Christmas when I was waiting in Warsaw for connecting flight to Kraków I overheard two airport crew members discussing lively. They talked about some drama with passenger flying with a dachshund having all sorts of demands and pretences. Story didn’t matter though, the language did. Its plasticity, playfulness, structure and melody filled me with giggly happiness. They spoke Polish in a way I would never speak it and none of my friends would, and yet it was so familiar and felt so satisfying. Yes, it was satisfying.

The real gem seems to be though when I enter on land instead of flying in. Airports are after all standardised and hygienic. As such, they carry less of a fuel for imagination. It might be well something completely different. Maybe sudden drop in the environment makes it feel like I’ve never actually left it? Or pretty prosaically, perhaps it’s just that when driving there is much more time for thoughts to wander. Counterintuitively that produces instant reactions.

The entry to Poland on my usual route from Slovenia that is almost perfectly transparent. Slovenia turns into Austria smoothly, Austria turns into Czechia with only small glitch of Breclav’s Casinos and then landscape of one Silesia turns into landscape of the other across the river. Not much changes but it seems that those minimal fluctuations change everything. First alarm is the font of the road signs. For most of my life just invisible element of reality, now grotesque and hideous symbol that frustrates me whenever I see it. Among its many offences, I blame it for the the fact that I’ve elevated frustration to be  main ingredient of my own formula to build a Polack if one would be ever needed for an interactive exhibition of forgotten fictions. This font is obviously made for roads full of potholes, surrounded by flatlands of mud and potatoes in which post-apocalyptic ruins are standing on guard even though it’s high time for retirement. It fits air brick cube-shaped houses, preferably with grey concrete wall decorated at the top with some clumsy flower motive, or blocks of flats newly insulated and painted in pastel rainbow but surrounded by pavements and driveways that are cambered and twisted.

There it doesn’t fit at all. The name “Rzeczpospolita Polska” is written on the blue sign and surrounded with 12 stars of European Union flag. The overall landscape is just an ordinary gayrepoean reality of autobahn experience. The road is new, smooth and wide, soon enough it turns into 3-lane motorway and whole thing is actually mindblowing luxury in contrast with surfing on asphalt on the verges of Ostrava. Furthermore, fatherland welcomes me with the widest extradosed bridge in the world. Of course I wouldn’t know what it means for the bridge to be extradosed or even care. It’s just one of the words I know and don’t understand. It found a place in my head cause the Mszana bridge was supposed to be (or at least it was painted like that in the media and this picture I’ve remembered, believed in and kept) proud gateway to modern Poland, monument of engineering aptitude and new-found European prosperity. Once over a beer I started speaking with awe about Slovenian road network, number of motorway tunnels and beautiful bridges over dramatic valleys, all this infrastructure they have. My Slovenian friend mocked me, we modern country, you know, developed. So this bridge was supposed to be, I believe, a big-ass banner saying exactly that to Czechs and anyone else crossing the border. Here’s masterpiece of bridge building, please respect us, from Poland with love.

In the end it tells a different story. The public tender to build it was won by Alpine Bau, Austrian company that after some time challenged the greatness and whined about design being based on “solutions unheard of in the international bridge building literature”. The contract was cancelled and a new tender has been issued. Alpine Bau offered its services once again, won once again and after a breakdown of some elements of the bridge once again blamed the design and refused to fix the damages. Construction was finished by Polish company and Alpine Bau got bankrupt. Their spokeperson claimed that stubborn Polish authorities and the fatal bridge project are responsible for 15 000 people around Europe losing their jobs. At least we’ve crashed the Germans on this one, huh? Now the bridge just stands there painted in violet and does not seem to think of itself too much.

I’ve just read “Międzymorze”, thenew book by Ziemowit Szczerek, my gonzo reporting crush. I’m sitting in a bar, looking at already emptied, calm and pleasant Ljubljana mocking myself for how writing short post turned me into some kind of Szczerek in English for the poor. Sukas, pizdas and khuis are coming to my ears from Russian teenagers sitting by the table 5 metres to the left.

Last time my entry to Poland was very different from this invisible border in which stories have to be tiresly looked for somehwhere in the microcracks on the fresh concrete. First I went to Berlin, city that looks to me East European, like East European megalopolis done right. It’s not very pleasant but somehow chill even when walking on the ground of multilingual chaos. In a way it this chill that Ljubljana has, this feeling that always struck me as most foreign about Slovenia. Somehow middle class does not look like a neurotic wannabes, instead they just do their middle class things and even the most ‘pretentious hipsters’ are less of play-pretenders. Ljubljana is though, apart from being chill and charming, peectly clean and orderly which Berlin is not. Perhaps after getting back and rebuilding their serious Prussian capital Germans felt that it might be too much and somehow ingeniously engineered something far away from rest of the country. It looks almost as if the only thing they left of their own character is a bit disarming habit of wearing new expensive clothes and still looking like actors from a movie about 1980s Düsseldorf (I have no idea why Düsseldorf is anything in my imagined geography). Even gentrified Prenzlaurerberg where my Macedonian friends live didn’t seem to me a bit tense and pretty tense stability is how I had imagined it to be. It’s surely as fictious but Prenzlauerberg is now for me two Polish guys sitting at the cheap plastic tables in front of the shop, sipping beer and talking in a mixture of German and English with their Turkish co-immigrants, just occasionally adding some kurwas here and there. True urban paradise, this Berlin is a land of hope, shining city on the hill I thought. Maybe somehow magically things won’t go to shit like everybody thinks they will.

Once I got out of Berlin and headed towards the border I found myself in forest and this forest refused to end. Somewhere on the way I passed signs inviting me visit Tropical Islands Resort. I almost took a detour but then I held my horses and remembered that it’s already pretty late. Pattern recognition engine pondered a bit about those Tropical Islands. They didn’t really fit the bucket “Deutschland is eternal 80s”, certainly it was more of 90s. It ended up there anyway and I kept on driving on increasingly empty road in the forest. The closer to the border the weirder this motorway in empty no man’s land seemed.

Finally I reached Poland. And what a tragedy was that! Shame, disgrace, humiliation, lack of reason and human dignity. The Nazi motorway, decaying washing-machine of concrete plates, I knew from childhood is still there. Or rather half of it, fresh silver concrete shines on the other side of barriers. Lanes towards Gemrany were renovated long time ago. Cars and trucks swiftly blitzed there heading West and there I was on this desert, on this empty post-apocalyptic road.  For some reason I was sure that it’s been fixed already, took-took-took tak-tak-tak melody of coming from the West is gone, scars got patched and all in all my experience of entering Poland will be the same as when coming from the South. I was amused and amazed. At me being so surprised and at the fact that despite amusement somewhere deep I felt shame, disgrace, humiliation and would gladly tell someone that this whole thing here is, kurwa, total lack of reason and human dignity.

I was so amused and amazed that I took the chance and just pulled out onto the emergency lane, just to breath in this wild wild land. Speedway or not, here it seems to be a perfectly fitting thing to do. On the side of the road I noticed plastic garden chair lying upside down on dry moss. It had no purpose and even though most possible course of its history suggest that it was just trashed there, this lack of purpose was a bit alarming. No purpose has a purpose I proclaimed and if nothing else it enabled me to imagine someone just coming there to sit down and look at this broken in half transport corridor. Perhaps it was someone’s pitstop on the way through the forest picking up mushrooms. Of course it was mushroom trip. What can be more Polish than that I thought. I knew it was senseless and it also made so much sense. I went back to the car. Once someone in Slovenia lectured me about his theory that actually on a road like that it’s just better for suspension to drive fast. You just skip the holes in between a bit he explained. I believed him now so I ignored speedlimits and my own common sense, pressed the gas pedal and levitated over the highway in my private drang nach osten that suddenly seemed so alien and so known at the same time. Tak-tak-tak. Road signs font was perfectly fitting, transparent, a masterpiece of design. Took-took-took. As I approached the place were this strained road joins proper motorway I passed the truck parking on the right lane opposite to the driving direction. Took-took-took. Tak-tak-tak. Psssssssss.

I hit the smooth road and suddenly it was crowded and busy. Just before Wroclaw I stopped at the gas station. It was BP and on paper it was in no way different than anywhere else by the autobahn but the lady taking my payment seemed particularly obnoxious. I came back inside to pee after I finished drinking Coca-Cola, somehow I felt that the lady follows me with her eyes, checking if surely I paid for something before, if surely I am a legit customer. Next to the building there was a stone replica of Fiat 125p. A bit further stood a shed with a generic skyline of a big city painted on the wall. It belonged to slot machines bars chain called “HOT FUN”. It was all so 90s, so much of what 90s were to me. I couldn’t believe.

2 hours later I stopped again. I’ve already joined the same road that I take when driving straight from Slovenia. I was back at home. Since my last visit the station extended its commercial offering with “Autogrill”, Italian brand of highway resthouses that was a chief gonzo element of  Italian trip a few months back. I turned on mobile data on the phone and checked the messages. My highschool friend pursuing PhD in Netherlands sent me another bunch of links to content from psychiatric hospital of hypernational lol. Our genetic code that is Polish DNA! The enemies of Poland are frightened by those of us who have once again become the heirs of the Sarmat and the Cursed Soldiers. And so on, and so on.

I didn’t really know about it but I think I was waiting for opportunity to post somewhere someday this song:

[the-game-to-solve-string-theory]

The Big Bang of My Idea...so basically get ready for a lotta hot crazy nonsense over here all exploding out in one big infinitly expanding mess

During this thread, I will continue to apply some “rules” but remember that the only real rule here that matters, is that you simply give this little experiment an honest read and to give it’s ideas at least a real good ponder before moving on, thank you.

Let me begin with a small, sidenote (I know, STARTING with a sidenote...weird).

Time Travel is simply not possible. Many may dream it might be, in that deep rooted dream carried by all man as a species like our dream of survival and happiness, but it simply is not. Einstein did, however, pull back a bit of the curtain of the ultimate mystery of life, the universe, and everything with his so...so very simple equation E=mc2.And this little experiment is to try and explain just how insane that tiny little equation really is.

I’d like to start by asking you, how limited is your imagination? At what point do you sit and reach a point at which you cannot simply grasp the thing you are piecing together in your mind? This happens to me a lot. Let me continue.

[Imagine actually being able to follow this thread] [justimagine][infinity]

Time is...everything. Space...and time. The two do go together, but I’ve been going over these thoughts enough that using the same name for these two ideas seems so proper now because the two ARE the same. I AM the ground under my feet. I AM the bird sleeping in the tree outside. I AM the clouds in the sky. But it’s not just me, YOU are these things. YOU are the desk in front of you. YOU are the metal spoon in the kitchen down the hall. And it’s not just objects. WE are the sadness felt in the pit of your neighbors stomach. WE are the thoughts and prayers sent around the world by caring, well intentioned believers. WE are the energy heating your coffee in the pot in the morning. The gravitational pull on your fat sister (weight) IS the cute dog outback yapping at the neighbors. The perfectly tuned piano note playing through your speakers IS the stale hotdog finally being thrown away four days late in the 7-11 down the street, yeah i know, got a little carried away there. You get the idea. Well, probably not, that’s the point. I’ll explain.

If I didn’t weird you out enough yet, that is. But imagine having actually giving this a real try to understand and follow throught, just how much better you would have felt? I have a little thought experiment.

Picture a string, pulled taught between two fixed surfaces two points in time. Remind myself how to change tumblr font from black to red later. Eh, nevermind.

Did I get you in a time loop yet? Just imagine though.

[with a pause at “two fixed surfaces flashing on the screen. And me crossing out two fixed surfaces in a red line. (We don’t know why yet, but we will…)

Did I get you in a time loop yet?

“What?” you ask.

I know what you’re thinking, and indeed yes, the string is made out of a specific substance. This string is made out of your very imagination, i mean...what exactly would we call that? Imagination...sensory energy? I dunno, somewhere in your brain you have the ability to form invisible, matterless, massless, timeless (?) pictures and “things” so just do that real quick and imagine a simple black line on a white scree. Easier than all that nonsense sounded huh? 

No, I’m being serious, for this to work I need you to actually do your best to not apply any kind of known material to this string and just know that it is simply...incapable of being broken in any way... It is simply an infinitely more dense screen of pixels on your mind’s own eye in the shape of a simple horizontal line. If a situation were to arise during the course of our experimentation when a normal string would have been broken such as too much force (whether tensile, normal, heat, potential, pressure, etc.) in the space between that normal strings two ends after breaking simply imagine a new segment of string simply already existing exactly where those breaks start. As I said, this string is not able to be broken even by your own imagination. Easy right?

Ok. I’m not sure how to explain this but I am very much typing these things sort of ... “outside” time, if that makes sense, which will make sense if you bare with my problem here and follow me on this journey, and so much might be revealed.

Just imagine though. Just imagine if you’d finished. And you could understand the mind of someone mentally impaired but knew this much.

This imaginary string also kinda...breaks my first rule right from the get go, I’m not gonna lie. It does actual travel through time. But that too shall be explained away in brilliant and clever fashion that will make complete sense, trust me, thanks. No, you’re not using too many commas, calm down. This string does, indeed, travel through time. Imagine now, that string has been plucked. When was this string plucked? That is an interesting question, this string was plucked forever and for always ago...take a deep breath, you can do this, OK. That sentence couldn’t make sense could it? Did I get you in a time loop yet? 

It might sound annoying as all hell, but it will definitely help, I promise. Just start back over at the beginning and slowly read through again, but ignore some of the stuff you know now is kinda nonsense and meet me back here...I promise, it’ll help.

Ok, if you really did do it, let’s continue.

Certainly it does not make sense, but yeah it does. Cuz that string has too always had done been plucked. Always had been plucked. Always...will have been plucked. Will always..will always been (no certainly not...), will always...have been...and is to always be plucked!!! Wooooo! I figured it out. Did i get you in a time loop yet?

Remember the first time you read this and it didn’t really make much sense, but as you’ve taken the time to skim a bit and skip ahead maybe, and try reading parts or even the whole thing again it’s kind of started to maybe make a bit of sense once you learn to filter the nonsense and approach it again? See how’ve Weeeeeeird huh? Anyway…that’s how my brain works. Let’s continue.

It’s all about time traveling strings and randomness. Except the string is made of a definitive amount of imagination pixels at any given moment, how can motion possibly be translated on such a device? 

Ya know what? Ya got me, beats me, really, it really does I just need to continue with the experiment and if you got a better idea, go ahead, I’m just trying to explain the nature of reality and all things here, don’t mind me.

Right, what I mean is that simply because this imaginary string only and. i hate thinking this way, sometimes, please help meeeee. exclusively exists...inside YOUR mind, your own private little universe within you (whatever you wanna call “you”, like your brain...the collection of your body and soul, whatever you consider to actually be “you” etc.) where nobody else can possibly access, it ALSO just happens to have the ability to have always been in what will always be its state of matter and being and amount of energy whether it be potential, real or imaginary because it’s just that special. And the state of this string that it has always existed in and will always exist in is...yeah, that’s right, is an imaginary horizontal line that has been plucked and is therefore vibrating, you’re catching on. Just imagine huh? 

If you’re having trouble keeping up, I highly suggest just stepping away for a little bit and coming back and skimming back through this mess of a thought and you should be able to filter out some of the nonsense better now and my thoughts will be a littler clearer, and hopefully I am making myself understood as best I can.

Just imagine if you finished though.

Next rule about this string is that it needs to appear to you as a flat, perfectly smooth horizontal black line on a white field at all times no matter how far away you are from it, or how close you are to it. Quite the mental feat, this one here. No time to rest, let’s move on.

I don’t enjoy this all the time, sometimes it’s pretty cool tho, ya know- being special, I mean.

EDITOR NOTE: I’m using too many commas.

Ok and now one more complication. I actually lied in the beginning and the string ISN’T being held at each end by a firm point (Or did I say, solid point? Or a fixed point?...)

[insert clip of rewinding footage to the part where I say “pulled taught between two fixed surfaces” with a pause at “two fixed surfaces flashing on the screen. And me crossing out two fixed surfaces in a red line. Then I say:

Wait..did I just witness myself time travel to the beginning of this video? Am I caught in a time loop? I mean, I’m kind of time traveling in my imagination...ah well, let’s move on, I mean just imagine if you finished. 

Nah, nah we’re all good...but ponder whether I’m lying or not while I distract you from the fact that I need to change this one thing I said earlier to better explain my point and get you thinking...thanks. 

Do yourself a favor and write down the rules for the string, it’ll definitely help you stay on track while I can’t. i’m sorry. really.

Remember the first time you read this and it didn’t really make much sense, but as you’ve taken the time to skim a bit and skip ahead maybe, and try reading parts or even the whole thing again it’s kind of started to maybe make a bit of sense? See how’ve you now experienced somehow the same emotion over again as that first time yet also a new one at the same time like on top of that old emotion? is that deja vu? That’s emotional energy traveling through time. Did I get you in a time loop yet?

“Uh...what?” Is what you want to ask me right now. And I know, I know. Did I get you in a time loop yet? Weeeeeeird huh? Anyway…

Rememeber when this paper made sense? It will

back to the line.

If you’re having trouble keeping up, I highly suggest just stepping away for a little bit and coming back and skimming back through this mess of a thought and you should be able to filter out some of the nonsense better now

back to the line.

See how that line, while simple and not the same, kinda reminded you of the first time you read that line way up above about if you remember when this idea made any sense. Except it’s not quite the same feeling or reaction, kinda layered on top of it. I guess I’m trying to explain how my mind works sometimes?

But also this one, thing I’m trying to say.

thank you for trying.

Where were we...Oh yeah. This string is not being held by two fixed points, and I know what you’re thinking and no, it’s also not being held at one by a fixed point and free at the other. I actually kinda thought i was gonna go down that direction for a few minutes there but nah, I - Oh right right right right right...So no, this string is not even connected at just one end and free at the other, it’s much simpler than all that and the string is connected at both ends too….itself? But again, be careful and don’t violate any of the rules mentioned in my rant before. Feel free to review it, don’t worry I’m not going anywhere. Meet me back here.

How limited is your imagination? Just imagine. 

Remember the first time you read this and it didn’t really make much sense, but as you’ve taken the time to skim a bit and skip ahead maybe, and try reading parts or even the whole thing again it’s kind of started to maybe make a bit of sense? See how’ve Weeeeeeird huh? Did you Did I get you in a in a time loop yeeeeeeyyet? you read this paper when it still made sense and remember thinking...wow I thought that paper was gonna actually say something good...anywaaaaaay.

Cool.

What?

This is how my brain works sometimes...I honestly don’t know how I feel about it “I said cool”

...what do you mean, cool?

“I mean...that’s it right? I’ve imagined your string

There’s no way you’ve imagined my string.

“Sure I have, I mean some of it is...well, yeah a little out there, but not all together unable to be imagined on the minds eye the way you said. Just a simple, flat horizontal line on a white background.”

That can also be observed from any distance as to appear the same relative size and shape’-

“yeah yeah yeah, that stuff too, what’s that mean.”

Ugh...that means that no matter how far away that string is from the lens of your mind’s eye, the string simply becomes more clearly resolved on the screen of your minds eye by...by those infinitly more and more dense pixels, yeah i know this is getting out of hand. I almost used two extra commas in that sentence. 

“...right... i think i got it? Maybe.”

Uh...You don’t understand. I’ve described something that you could simply zoom in on...FOREVER...and it stayed the same relative size and shape to your eye because it also becomes an infinitely growing clearer resolution on the monitor of your mind’s eye and being forever filled in by an infinite more ever spawning pixels. Which is possible only because all of this exists inside your imagination? And your imagination is limitless?

“Ok ok ok, you got me, this is just a metaphor? Or a parable on the dangers of hubris?”

No, I...don’t think so. Oh...it IS limited? Ok...makes sense. Anywaaaaaaay let’s continue anyway, for those whose imagination is NOT limited and have stayed with me so far.