#actually i don't even know if pivot tables are what I need

[wispythreads]

I did catch on to that part of it with him bouncing between jobs so frequently, and some of the other things like the fridge freezer, but they were still included in the jumbled up thoughts I listed out partly because I was thinking about them before coming to an answer, and partly because I'm not fully sure if those answers are all there is to it.

Cause, yeah, there’s the newspaper clipping rebuking him for being “unprofessional and brash” (which damn that’s also just rotating in my head because Vince was clearly reading this specific clipping earlier and blatantly lied saying Rody hadn’t been mentioned at all, later scribbling out the section talking about the waiter), he’s very clearly messy and unkempt in pretty much every aspect of his life, and even if he gets the to-go question right in the tutorial, Vince appends the "Good work." with "keep tone in mind."

But, the thing is, he does know a lot of the basics. Much of the tutorial is really just for the benefit of the player to know how the mechanics of the game works, Rody meanwhile nods along and does whatever task is needed without comment, only getting tripped up when Vince mentions the way the menu for his bistro works, and when the aforementioned customer asked if he could get boxes to go or call in his order ahead of time. Which I think are reasonable things to get tripped up on! Those seem like things that would vary depending on the establishment he was working for.

I keep thinking about his reaction when Vince pivoted the conversation of "do you actually like your job" onto Rody. His awkward response that it paid him money. Vince voicing specifically “I doubt you wanted to wait tables for a living-”, and that being met with how there was “something” Rody went to school for, that he was too hesitant to tell Vince, feeling he’d get made fun of. The impression that its some passion he had that just didn't work out. The revelation later that the “something” in question was him majoring in hospitality.

He was afraid he'd be made fun of for actively going to school and choosing to study for skills that, either ironically or purposefully, would've been useful for his current job of waiting tables. A goal that he flunked out of. He has had 28 jobs in the service industry over the course of 7 years. He keeps losing his job, but he also keeps getting hired.

I keep thinking of the post-credits scene of the Best Served Hot, whisky lemon cake ending. "I can't keep watching you ruin any semblance of progress you make with yourself while trying to make me happy, it's exhausting-"

He's only 4 days into this job when he approaches Vince for a raise. He already figures he'll have enough to do something nice for Manon, his "girlfriend," by the end of the week, but he wants more to make it really special. He is very clearly told 'no.'

On the 5th day, when his shift is finally over and done, we don't next see him as we usually do, back at his apartment. He's still at the bistro, all the lights turned out. The only other person presumably being Vince hacking away at the meat in the freezer that'll be used for the meals in the morning. The first time I went through that night, I presumed Rody had just been selected to stay late and help clean up for the night, with whatever Vince was doing in the background ominous horror ambience to be unsettled by.

But we can't really do anything while there that would support this initial assumption. There are only two things you can do. Snoop around in Vince's office, and... steal from the cash register. Whether you avoid doing the latter as I did or not, it has no bearing on whatever ending you get, but just the fact that it's even an option to Rody...

How many other times did he allow his love for Manon to rule over his decisions, making choices in the pursuit of what he believed would make her happy, no matter the cost, before finally facing a price for his obsession beyond the scope of his worst nightmares?

...

And after all that I do want to defend the rollerskates a bit because

Rollerskates in restaurants are kinda a thing, in the 1960s (the year this game is set) they were a pretty popular gimmick/tool for diners in the U.S. at least, not sure about elsewhere in the world unfortunately

Yeah he canonically brought and proceeded to wear rollerskates to work at a fancy bistro. But that also means Vince watched him show up to work one day, wearing rollerskates, and just let him do it. Just watched Rody roll around his fancy bistro attending to customers that expect the highest of professionalism, and said nothing.

#dead plate #dead plate spoilers #rody #bit of play experience #sort of #hopefully this makes sense for others reading this my thoughts still feel very jumbled up

[dailyadventureprompts]

DM Tip: Creating a Campaign Skeleton

Learning to be a better dungeonmaster was a protracted process. A younger me was often so stressed out by the desire to be a better artist that I'd have legitimately mauled a person if it would've revealed to me the wisdom I sought (with my hands or even an actual maul given the chance).

One of my biggest hurdles was the idea of a universal framework for d&d adventures, a guideline that would tell me if the things I was creating were on the right track. It was sorely needed, I loved the process of being creative but without an understanding of how my creative energy was best used I ended up sinking days, weeks, or even months worth of energy into projects that went nowhere. Worse yet, when I DID get a chance to put my ideas into practice at the table they'd frequently spiral out of control and crash, resulting in even more stress.

Over time I learned from these mistakes, I got better, and then I got good. I moved from conscious incompetence to competence, and I ended up having a run of absolutely stellar campaigns that were everything my younger self could have dreamed of: stable, enjoyable, meaningful, and most importantly an absolute delight to my players. Routinely I'd have people, including folks that'd only played with me a few times, mention that getting together to roll dice and listen to me babel on in silly voices was a highlight of their week.

It was as one of these campaigns began to wind down (three years! a satisfying conclusion on the horizon!) and I started looking for a followup scenario that I decided to study all my really successful campaigns and figure out what connected them. The end result was something I'd been looking for for nearly a decade, a reliable format that I could build campaigns around.

I want to preface this section with the understanding that while this information is laid out in a vaguely chronological fashion there's no guarantee that these ideas will occur to you in any particular order. Inspiration is a funny thing, and each idea flows into the others to make a cohesive whole. Due to foreshadowing and setup reasons you're also going to need a pretty solid idea about all of these when starting a campaign, though exact details will likely change/ can be vague up until the moment they're needed.

The Reason: Who are we and what are we doing?

Gives your players a solid background to build their characters around and give them a reason to travel together, rather than having to ad lib one on the spot. Likewise sets expectations of what the campaign is "about" that you can build on or subvert in time. The reason doesn't need to hold true for the entire game, just long enough to serve as a framing device. EG: The Witcher starts out as a "monster of the week" setup and then uses that framework to pivot into politics and prophecy once we've seen the premise play out.

The Pilot/Crashtest Adventure: What's first?

I’ve already written about these, but the general concept is to give your party a mostly contained first outing that doesn’t have any larger bearing on the plot so they can focus on learning how their characters play/building the party dynamic.  By the time the party's finished this first adventure they'll have already started putting down roots in the world: they'll have in jokes, npcs they've started to care about, an understanding of what's on the horizon, and an idea of where they want to go next.

The Central Gameplay Pillar: How does this all work?

It's important to have an idea what your campaign is going to be about in a mechanical sense in addition to its plot and themes. There is a difference between an adventure that has the party delve a dungeon, and a dungeoncrawling focused campaign. I like to lead with these outright during the campaign pitch so that players can know what they're getting into. Your playgroup will likely have strong opinions about what they like and dislike, even if they don't have the words to describe it, so you might need to explain the ideas for them.

The Hub: Where are we?

I think every good campaign has a hub, some kind of settlement that the party returns to between adventures to offload loot, pick up supplies, and sift through the latest gossip to look for the next questhook. Letting the party return to the same place lets them build up a relationship with it, clarifying the picture in their mind as new details are added and they grow more and more attached. It's possible to have multiple hubs over the course of a campaign, but I'd advise really only having one per arc to best concentrate your efforts. Fill up your hub with distractions and side adventures, shorter stories that the party can get tangled up in while the larger adventure slowly reveals itself. Returning to the same hub also means returning to a familiar and expanding cast of NPCs, which helps your party become more and more invested in the setting

The Main Event: What's going to happen?

Here we get to the meat of the issue, the big story you want to be telling using this campaign. To pull off the sick narrative kickflip you wish to perform, you're going to need to lay a lot of groundwork, seeding in details left and right as well as giving the party a chance to stumble across evidence of your schemes without ever realizing the whole thing. To do this, you're going to work in the building blocks of your big reveal/twist/pending disaster into the setting along with those side adventures from the hub. This will give your party an idea that something is going on, but with more pressing matters to take care of they're going to be distracted up until the moment you decide to pull the trigger.

The Setting: What's over there?

While things like genre and tone are definitely things you should have a handle on from the outset, I personally feel like the details of a setting are best constructed on an ad hoc basis, either in a direct response to something required by part of the narrative (be it side story or main event), or pencilled in at the margins as the party explores the world.. That said, creation of the hub and setting often go hand in hand because it's important to match the settlement to the environment and then shape the environment to the quests inside the settlement. As for what's beyond your hub, I happen to have just written something about building out settings.

Now, this next option is one that I recommend you start thinking about only once your campaign is fully underway, so it doesn't clog up your creative process by focusing on something that you might not even get to

The Change: What the fuck?

A little while after the main event has kicked off and your party is off on the quest that will turn them from mere adventurers into heroes, they start to hear rumours of strange happenings. It's certainly not related to the present scenario, it may even be an unexpected windfall, but it's not something they have time to look into. Time ticks on, the land is saved, and the party is able to enjoy their victory lap as well as some dearly needed time off. Before they can get comfortable however they're slammed by some strange occurrence that they could have never predicted that changes the state of the world. A neighbouring kingdom invades, an important ally is murdered and they're blamed for it, a dragon starts rampaging through the realm. Its important that this event is outside the party's skillset, not necessarily diametrically opposed, but counter to what they were planning

artsource

#dm tip #dm advice #writing #dm tips #writing advice #campaign skeleton

[agoddamn]

Tales of Duviri is a storybook written by Euleria Entrati for the purpose of teaching children how to handle the manic flood of emotion that comes with Void exposure.

I pose a question: why does Euleria feel so strongly about this?

Her interactions with her own children are... let's call them wanting, and dialog implies that the negative aspects of their relationship--her denigrating, controlling nature, the distrust, etc--did not begin only after the Infestation brainrot set in.

We also know that she holds her father in extremely high esteem, but Albrecht did not think much of Tales of Duviri (see: him talking about his previous disdain for it in his own Duviri notes). Euleria put resources into writing Tales of Duviri instead of more traditional science, and Albrecht did not think much of it.

So why did Euleria write Tales of Duviri?

Let's rewind a step. Void exposure-induced mania, the whole thing Tales of Duviri is written to help manage.

How was that discovered and studied? It clearly was studied, enough to be a recognized condition and for the Orokin to build the iso vaults and for Euleria to write Tales of Duviri. But who would they have observed this mania in if Void research was an abandoned dead-end line of study?

Perhaps...the man obsessed with the Void who'd survived an unshielded Void dive?

Euleria had patient zero of Void mania sitting at her dinner table. Albrecht is the character who's undoubtedly had the most Void exposure.

Albrecht himself must have exhibited the Void mania and mood swings that Tales of Duviri exists to teach caution of.

And that's why Euleria wrote it; she had this gyroscope of a mood swing at home. She admired Albrecht too much to consciously deride his lack of control as irresponsible and so she channeled her energy into writing Tales of Duviri instead.

The emotion spirals of Duviri are loosely based off of what Euleria witnessed in the Entrati household and particularly Albrecht himself.

I don't believe that any courtier is a 1:1 translation of a member of the Entrati household, but more that their toxic interactions and dramatic heights reflected things that Euleria herself saw--or lived.

This reading of the Duviri characters and story--that they mean things to Euleria specifically--gives us a fun new lens to look at all of the chapters with.

For example, Mathila.

"Two children, and no memory of her husband. Poor Mathila."

Two children like Euleria herself, eh?

Mathila loved her husband. He also textually does not exist. He's not on the screen or in the text. He is a memory, and one that Mathila herself cannot even remember. There is no portrayal of their love.

Pivot to a writer's perspective. You need to write a loving relationship. You look to real life for inspiration, right? If you're a married woman needing to write a married woman in love, you naturally look to your own relationship.

And if you can't find anything to base that love off of? Well...move that character offscreen. Just tell about the loving relationship, don't show. Actually, do you even have anything to tell about? Well. Move the entire loving relationship offscreen, then. She's got amnesia. Nobody needs to talk about the love to sell it or make it feel real now. The narrator can simply mention it as a fact and it need not be challenged. Euleria doesn't have to imagine a loving family life between a husband and wife and their two children and question why that's hard for her. There. Problem fucking solved.

Another parallel that fairly started screaming at me once I started considering that the Duviri courtiers had meaning to Euleria specifically: Luscinia.

"I was created to be Sorrow, written into being, to serve as a lesson... can that change?"

Luscinia knows that she is a tool. As much as she dreams of being more, she knows very well that she is a tool--both a literal narrative element to teach a lesson and within the story itself Thrax's servant (his personal songbird).

Is there anyone in Euleria's life who might have some angst over their position as a tool? A servant who wants to escape the limited definitions of their role?

And so... here I am, back to my old role. The diligent servant. Albrecht would have smiled at that, I think.

Loid. It's Loid.

Luscinia: "This structure and I share much. Both of us once useful, both of us discarded, both of us now derelict. Both forgotten." Loid: "How might this relic make himself useful today?"

Both Luscinia and Loid are also capable of surprising amounts of ruthless violence. Luscinia has no hesitation telling you to kill the Dax or otherwise wreak vengeance on her jailers. Loid's Necramech lines feature him ranging from being excited for ensuing violence to coldly promising the Murmur regret.

The Duviri Tales were a subconscious form of therapy for Euleria herself as well, allowing her to write a story where emotional explosions were a problem that must be addressed rather than a social struggle to be suffered through at the whims of the more powerful.

#warframe #bootsmeta #euleria entrati #gomaitru entrati #albrecht entrati #tales of duviri #loid warframe #mathila warframe #luscinia warframe #luscinia

[theflyindutchwoman]

You were on the run from the cops -- a bank robbery gone wrong. You ended up in my building -- frantic, looking for a place to hide, and [breathes deeply] -- and I opened the door for you. I lied to the cops for you. And -- Ooh. And it got me so hot that we hooked up while they were still searching the building. Okay. That -- That -- That's pretty good, actually.

| ANATOMY OF A SCENE - CHENFORD EDITION 4.22 - Day In The Hole

I could talk about this moment for hours… This scene is so rich, with many incredible moments, all different from the other… with Tim and Lucy running the gamut of emotions… This is such a game changer, a pivotal point that left them reeling and completely shifted their relationship.

Right from the start, there's this feeling of coziness and intimacy that is emanating from Lucy's apartment… All the dim lights and candles around them help create this warm atmosphere. Now, to be fair, this isn't the first time her home is lit this way : her living room was illuminated in a similar fashion when Nyla and Angela were at her place. Only here, with Tim, it's even more striking. And it definitely sets the mood… Maybe not for work, but then again, they didn't really need to create a back story for Dim and Juicy either : they simply could have asked the real Sava and Jake how they met to make sure their story would fit… They both went all-in for this op, using every opportunity to get closer...

The way they have to immediately bicker… They're just getting started and Tim is already complaining, offended that Lucy dares mocking his little meet-cute idea, and challenging her to do better. Which she does, turning the tables on him - and honestly, how did he not see that coming?! She thrives when under pressure and he knows that better than anyone. His facial expressions during that whole segment are absolutely amazing : he goes from annoyed to skeptical… from intrigued to completely gobsmacked, his jaw on the floor… And you will never convince me that he wasn't picturing her little scenario in that moment. As for Lucy… She looks so smug for breaking him! What makes this part even better is that, his suggestion to practice physical intimacy was something he was already contemplating - he didn't just suddenly thought about that… So it's no wonder his brain short-circuited after Lucy came up with this back story. And listen, if she created that story a little bit too fast, what does it say about Tim that his main concern was practicing displays of affection. I'm pretty sure that when Nyla and John went undercover as a couple, they never even thought about that. Their subconscious was being very loud...

Still, the way Tim is essentially reduced to a blubbering mess, stuttering and beating around the bush, is priceless. I don't think we have ever seen him this flustered before, even when random women were to hit on him while on the job. He's usually more unflappable, but here his discomfort is so evident that Lucy can't help but take advantage of it and play dumb. She is enjoying this way too much, showing him no mercy for a while and to be fair, I can't blame her : seeing him in this state is hilarious. But for all her bravado, once they get to the matter at hand, she is not fairing much better than him. She goes from mischievous to awkward in a beat… Both of them looking everywhere but at each other. Both waiting for a cue from the other… Until Lucy takes charge and put them out of their misery. I love how she clearly is the one who is more confident here - I think it was important : Tim is still technically her superior officer. This is a smart way to have them on more equal grounds, so to speak, while staying in-character. The way he's already puckering his lips before she starts giggling… He just wants to kiss her. And he is so done. Although who is he trying to fool with his 'we're professionals'? I seriously doubt this is part of their job description. Despite her awkwardness, Lucy is being so playful - her little routine to prepare herself is adorkable… and nervous. In light of how crushed she looked when she thought Tim was proposing to Ashley, it's understandable...

And it all leads to their very first kiss… Or first little peck, as the case may be. The contrast in their reaction is positively the best : it's how happy and proud he is for this, with his little head tilt and shrug, as if asking how it was, while Lucy is looking so underwhelmed, clearly having expected something more passionate. He barely has time to get defensive before she shuts him up with a real kiss… before they start making out. All the little details are amazing : the way she just grabs his face and goes for it, how he's caught off-guard and has to stomp on his feet to regain his equilibrium, how he smiles into the kiss trying to deepen it, their hands… THAT SHOT : the circular pan is brilliant. And they were seriously going to deepen that kiss when Tamara interrupted them. Their immediate reaction - jumping apart, going on opposite sides of the couch - is so entertaining… and the opposite of smooth. They really were caught up in the moment and now, they don't know how to behave… Lucy's 'this is work', pointing her finger at Tim, who's stuttering his agreement is not helping their case at all. Neither is the fact that he was going to go grab his stuff before realising he didn't have anything. Way to act not suspicious at ALL. This is peak comedy. Tim pointing his finger as well… they seriously have adopted the same mannerisms unknowingly and unfortunately for them, this isn't helping their case here. Lucy's face when she blurts 'good work tonight'… her wince once she realises what she just said… It can't get more awkward than this. Tamara doesn't even have to ask anything, these two are being unsubtle as hell. Melissa and Eric are killing it with their facial expressions : they deserved all the credit for elevating the script and making this scene so wonderful.

Lucy trying to process what just happened and trying to play it cool under Tamara's gaze… Tim's short-circuited brain trying to process this epiphany as well, with the crickets sound in the background… He spent the whole scene being knocked off his feet by how forward she was, by how she just oozed confidence, by his sudden awareness of his feelings and that moment of realisation is so beautifully portrayed on his face. This kiss changed everything. It completely affected them and as much as they're going to try to downplay it, they know it… They're just not ready to admit it to anyone yet - including themselves.

#the rookie #chenford #chenfordedit #lucy chen #tim bradford #4.22 #Anatomy of a scene - Chenford Edition

[thepenultimateword]

Trick or treat! :D

🍬🎃

Thanks for the writing push! Have a treat!

CW: light blood, remembrance of an attack, vampire attack

"Good evening, your excellency!"

The curtain rings squealed along the rod and a stream of pale moonlight flooded the vampire's face. They groaned, flipping over onto their face for several seconds before finally peeking up from their pillow at the primly dressed figure at their window.

"Can you ever offer a little warning?"

"Forgive me," their servant said, dipping their head dramatically, "was 'good evening' not enough lead-up? I thought you'd be the expert of warnings by now."

They gave a little shrug, tagged by a grating little 'huh', and strode to the tea table, plucking the lid off a wide porcelain bowl with a puff of steam. They peeled one of the cream-colored hand towels from a stack, shaking it out with brusque, careful hands as they moved to the vampire's bedside.

"Are you ever going to let that go?" the vampire sighed, pressing their face into the warm humid fabric in the servant's hands before accepting it into their own.

"Hm...am I ever going to die? Breakfast or hair first?"

"Hair." The vampire swung their legs over the bedside and wobbled over to the vanity seat, more out of habit than actual need. As always the looking glass only reflected the room behind them. "Have you ever thought of leaving since you hate me so much?"

The servant picked up a brush and began dragging it through the vampire's thick black locks. "Not much of a resume. 200 years at the same job? They might think I don't know how to do anything else."

They said it with a chuckle, but the vampire picked out the mournful undertone. That little seed of guilt started sprouting in their chest again. Though they still couldn't quite bring themself to regret their actions. If they could go back in time, replay it differently, maybe they would've asked, but they still didn't see themself accepting a no. They were twisted like that.

"At least it shows consistency," they offered. "Dependability. Loyalty. Employer's like that sort of thing."

The servant sectioned the hair off into three parts, beginning a loose plait down the vampire's back. "I'm not sure I do know how to do anything else. Don't touch those."

They swatted at the vampire's hand as they played with the rows of carefully displayed hair ties and pins. Today's selection included a silk onyx ribbon, a pair of long rose quartz pins, and a set of emerald hair rings. A matching emerald collar chain sat just out of reach and ready for when it was time to dress.

"Emeralds?"

"They bring out the color in your face." The servant picked up a pin and slid it neatly into the top of the braid. "No one's seen you in a while; you don't want to shock them with your corpse skin."

"Ah. And where is it I'm going?"

"You're meeting with the governor today. To talk about a protection agreement."

"And you decided this, did you?"

The servant let the second pin scrape along the vampire's scalp. "Were you going to do it on your own?"

The vampire stifled a wince. "You know how I feel about people."

"A vampire without a purpose is a vampire on the chopping block. You make them restless. The bonds of a deal will keep them from doing anything stupid. Besides, you keep the land clear anyway, you might as well be acknowledged for it."

The vampire sighed deeply. Their servant was right. As much as they disliked mortals with their quivering shoulders and fast rabbit hearts, this was the best way to remain unbothered in their reclusive lifestyle.

"What time?"

"Just after noon." The servant hooked the last hair ring and immediately turned back to the tea table. The vampire pivoted in their seat, watching as they poured the red-tinted water and spooned their usual two teaspoons of sugar.

"You could do something else," the vampire said. "If you wanted."

The servant shrugged. "I'm good at this."

They pulled out the dining chair, and the vampire quietly rose up to accept it. They sipped the warm drink, feeling how it temporarily heated their chest cavity before gradually icing over. The sweet spiciness of the sugar, and the cloves the servant had probably steeped in the water, was offset by a sharp metallic flavor. The vampire closed their eyes and savored the delicious aftertaste. Their servant always could make the unseemly bits of being a supernatural creature more elegant.

The servant's eyes pricked into the side of their face, intent, piercing. The vampire never forgot what they were, but they did sometimes forget that they were the same. That nothing but the flimsy rules of class etiquette kept their servant in their role. They could turn at any moment, in a flash of fangs and raking nails, and perhaps this time the vampire would lose. They'd never lost to any of the creatures they kept at the edge of the forest, but they might lose to their equal.

"You know, some people choose lovers to spend their immortality with?" the servant said finally.

Some of the tension in the vampire's shoulders relaxed. "I had no use for a lover."

They still remembered that first day in their room, the utter terror of standing in front of the mirror and having no face looking back.

Who's going to take care of me?

Perhaps it had been a silly thing to strike them. Especially as their first worry since being turned, but they genuinely couldn't think of anything more terrifying. When they were rejected, and surely they would be rejected, they would be alone, and who was to help them then? Not a family member, they were as blue blooded as them; even if they were turned, they'd never fed themselves, dressed themselves, or made up their own hair. And with no way of seeing themself anymore, those certainly seemed like necessary skills for a helper to have.

The choice of eternal partner had been obvious. And with their new identity at growing risk of discovery, hastily made.

They got up early, just as the fingers of dawn scraped the sky, and lay in wait behind their door until those familiar steps sounded down the hall. The door creaked, the usual morning greeting chirped…and the vampire pounced.

They remembered very little of the exchange, it had all been too fast, too heady with their first taste of blood. It only could be recalled in pieces: a cry, a struggle, shattered tea cups, a dark tea stain on the carpet that was probably still there. Then quiet.

They had thought they’d killed their servant. They were so limp and so still, and the vampire had had only their own traumatic fate as instructions. But then suddenly the breath came again and the feverish pain of change set in, and when the servant awoke in their shared cell, exorcists and experts prodding useless cure and concoctions through the bars, they were not the same as before.

At least when they were outcast, it was together.

And at least, as their feelings grew bitter and their demeanor more sharp-edged, they stayed.

The vampire shook themself from their thoughts. “Are you coming to this meeting?”

“Who else would tell you what to say?”

“See,” the vampire pointed at them, “that’s something you’re good at. Talking people into things, using eloquent words, you could be a politician.”

The vampire didn’t know why they were pressing this. They didn’t want their servant to go. If they had no one else 200 years ago, they certainly had no one now. Maybe giving them options soothed their persistent guilt. Gave them some false belief that turning the servant hadn’t been such a prison.

The servant chuckled. “A politician with fangs? I’m sure that would go over really well.”

“Just a thought.”

The servant poured a second cup of tea—their first breach of etiquette—and slurped it loudly—their second. They were still master and servant, but somewhere along the line, harsh, defining borders had softened into companionship.

“I’m fine with my job,” the servant said, setting down their cup into its saucer. “I simply wonder sometimes.”

With a slight nod, they retreated to the door, probably to bring in today’s outfit. They paused a moment with their hand on the knob, door just cracked.

They looked over their shoulder, fangs peeking through something almost grimace, almost smile.

“I don’t hate you.”

Then they were gone.

Master Taglist: (I’m sorry, I posted prompts for so long that I forgot I had a Taglist! If you’ve already seen this snippet, I apologize!)

@moss-tombstone @crazytwentythrees @just-1-lonely-person @the-vagabond-nun @willow-trees-are-beautiful @cocoasprite @insanedreamer7905 @valiantlytransparentwhispers @whovian378 @watercolorfreckles @thebluepolarbear @yulanlavender @kitsunesakii @deflated-bouncingball @lem-hhn @office-plant-in-a-trenchcoat @last-ditch-entry @ghostfacepepper @pigeonwhumps @demonictumble @inkbirdie @vuvulia @bouncyartist @lunatic-moss-studio @breilobrealdi @freefallingup13 @i-am-a-story-goblin @ryunniez @rainy-knights-of-villany @distractedlydistracted @saspas-corner

#vampire #vampire and vampire #supernatural creatures #spooktober #trick or treat #snippet #writing snippet #creative writing #platonic companionship #I mean you could ship it #but half way through #I was like #wow nonromantic love #how nice #servant #writblr #writeblr #fiction #monster #platonic love #friendship #fantasci #fantasci tumblr

[summerstrash]

one thing I'm mad about vis a vis the krakoan era is the fact that it only remains implicit that moira's deadly genesis team were, in hindsight, a sort of proto-Five focused around the creation of a mutant state prior to having Krakoa itself on the board.

Like,

proteus was always going to be in her back pocket, trapped as he was. he's the only one to make it to the actual Five, in part because he was never a part of the initial team-building with the others. he's a reality warper and energy vampire, and if I'm not mistaken, omega-level as well.

petra is a geomorph who can generate diamonds with her powers; prior to the entry of krakoa and its flowers into the plan, she could've been absolutely pivotal to the physical and economic stability of a mutant state.

sway is a time manipulator who can replay things she has witnessed. she would be in the role of eva bell, if resurrection was on the table, and/or she could serve as an "objective" observer in a justice or surveillance system.

darwin is evolution itself; his powers appear to have no upper bound, though he is not "officially" classified as an omega-level mutant. I believe he would be a primarily political agent, as a symbol of the nation, given that he is a visible mutant who cannot be killed, but I also believe that his survival powers could perhaps be pushed, maybe with proteus or gabriel in a circuit with him, to create life.

vulcan is an omega level energy blaster with a deep wellspring of rage directed at the shi'ar empire, AND he's the lost summers brother. aware as Moira would likely have been of this, she would have seen the purpose of that blood tie between her team and charles' — the X-Men would have been less likely to cross her team if it holds a member of the summers family.

I also believe that Moira was planning from the beginning to hedge her bets — and this team is perfect for that, too, given that four of them would always be primarily loyal to her, the mother figure who pulled them from the gutters of grief, oppression, poverty, and self-loathing and gave them a new family.

a circuit between these five mutants might be just as potent at terraforming as the Twelve were — Gabriel providing the raw energetic reactions you'd find at the dawn of spacetime, the star at the center of the circuit, Petra giving it physical form and stability and blessing it with untold physical wealth and elemental resources, Suzanne giving it the time it needs to grow, and Proteus and/or Darwin giving it life.

imagine the devotion a populace might give the beings that created their home out of nothing. Imagine, in turn, the loyalty they'd pay to their dear mother.

and Moira, even, familiar as she is with the narrative of the history of mutantkind, would likely have been planning for that, too — by withholding her son from the others at first, she creates a divide that will make it psychologically easier for the rest of the team to sacrifice him for the cause, if he cannot be brought to heel, or if he threatens her all-important life. the tragedy of mutant x is a narrative you can build sainthood or demonization around, and countries and communities need their foundational myths, don't they?

I think it's a devilishly elegant plan, on her part, to find mutants who need her, mutants who can't clean up as well for the cameras or the judgment of a bigoted america as charles' beautiful lily-white teenagers do, and turn them into her own personal nation-building engine.

I also wonder deeply about the Destiny of it all — is sway on the team because, as a time-manipulator, she could move directly against the prophecies of Irene Adler in a way the others can't?

At what point does Moira choose to fully betray the cause? Is it maybe at the moment that her carefully-laid plans and carefully-chosen teenagers are torn out from under her? Did she, in her way, truly love them, like Charles, for all his foibles, loved his original five X-Men?

I don't think I'll ever know for sure, and it deeply rankles at me that it's so.

#deadly genesis #moira x #moira kinross #moira mactaggert #kevin mactaggert #proteus #suzanne chan #sway #petra #vulcan #gabriel summers

[cobrafantasies]

In Every Other Universe

SamBucky | Rated T | 2,794 Words | Complete | AO3

I'm very excited to participate in my first AU Prompt Week! This is for day one of #sambuckyauweek2022, hope you enjoy!

Summary: America tells Sam and Bucky that in every other universe they are happily married. On Earth-616, the platonic partners don't know how to handle this news.

Excerpt:

Sam should have gotten water when he had the chance. God, he's thirsty. It's getting hard to smile when his tongue's starting to feel like sandpaper.

He really shouldn't complain so much. He knows he could easily excuse himself and walk over to the bar to finally get a glass of water and maybe a neat glass of whiskey as well. Ah, that sounds nice. Some hydration and a salty burn down his throat to make him lighter on his feet. He needs to feel lighter, he's been standing for hours and all he wants to do is sit the hell down but, apparently, this event has turned into a Captain America meet and greet.

The man in front of Sam refuses to stop shaking his hand. Sam's pretty sure he's been shaking this dude's hand for a good fifteen minutes, the guy seriously won't let go. He's rambling on and on about how much he stands for justice and everything Captain America believes in. More people are getting in line behind the man probably to thank Sam, congratulate him, or ask for a photo. It's been a mixture of the three all night.

Finally, the stranger lets Sam's hand go when some drunk lady twirls across the dance floor and stumbles into a few chairs causing a loud enough eruption that everyone turns towards the commotion.

Sam hastily slips away as fast as his tired legs will move him. He sneaks to the edge of the room and travels far back to a lone table that's sitting in a shadowed corner. He stumbles into a chair and takes one singular breath of relief before a voice rings from behind him.

"Hey, your husband's stealing all the cheese."

Sam sighs heavily trying to keep his composure, he has to. No matter how tired he is, he needs to keep up the honorable act. He's Captain America now. So, he pivots in his chair and finds a young girl staring back at him.

"Huh?" Sam smiles wearily. "I think you got the wrong guy."

"Mm, nope. Sam Wilson, Captain America - right?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"And that guy is Bucky Barnes, right?" the girl asks as she spins around to point directly at Bucky who's currently hovering over the table full of hors d'oeuvres.

"Yeah, that's him," Sam answers.

"Your husband," the girl designates.

Sam breaks into an incredulous smile and shakes his head.

"No idea where you got that one. Bucky and I are definitely not married," Sam chuckles. 

The young brunette tilts her head curiously.

"We're partners - coworkers is a better word, actually," Sam clarifies. 

"Really?"

The girl appears positively shocked. She stands in place glancing back and forth between the two men.

"You guys aren't a thing at all?" she checks.

"Not even a little bit," Sam verifies.

Sam's not offended by the accusation but it is strange to him how absolutely astounded the girl seems by this fact. As if the idea of Sam not being married to Bucky is so out of place, it's unworldly.

Meanwhile, the reality is Sam and Bucky have just begun working together. Their status as partners is very recent. They've gone on one mission to defeat the Flag Smashers and it was honestly a pleasant surprise they came out of that as friends. So, the leap to fully devoted husbands sounds like a bit of a stretch to Sam.

"What's your name anyhow?" Sam asks keeping his tone light and friendly.

"America Chavez."

Sam recognizes the name. As Captain America, Sam is now kept well up to date and got intel surrounding the events with Doctor Strange and young America in front of him. 

"So, where'd you hear Bucky and I were married?" Sam inquires.

In perfect timing, Bucky steps up behind America but stops short when he hears the question.

"Sorry, I just assumed cause in every other universe you guys are happily married," America supplies.

Bucky chokes on a cube of cheese then, yes, chokes. Sam and America both watch the super soldier pound his chest and bend forward as he coughs up a cheese chunk. Bucky straightens back up and swings back his champagne glass for a large gulp.

"What?" Bucky gets out in his next free breath.

America merely shrugs with a smile.

"Yeah, who would've guessed this is the only one you're not," America says before narrowing her eyes at Bucky. "Stop stealing all the cheese."

She grabs his plate of cheese cubes and rushes off.

Bucky doesn't even put up a fight. He stares after her with an agape mouth and confusion painted over every line of his face. He twists back to Sam, completely baffled.

"What?" he stresses once more.

Sam breaks into a smile, shrugging as casually as America did.

Read on A03

#sambucky #sambucky fic #sambuckyauweek2022 #a03 fanfic #sambucky fanfic #my fics #marvel multiverse #sambucky au #onlysambucky #tfatws #earth 616

[copperbadge]

Showed someone my NaNoWriMo setup and uhh I didn't think novel writing in excel could inflict psychic damage to others?? I just wanted a simple way to look at my daily word count 🥺

I mean, do what makes the work easiest, Anon, follow your bliss, don't listen to the haters, even me. I write villanelles in Excel for very good reasons of accessibility!

When we talk about "they did WHAT in Excel?" it's generally because it seems like the person is making more work for themself, and absolutely because if they send it out into the world that way, they're making more work for everyone else. Presumably you aren't submitting your NaNo novel to agents as an Excel document -- I did leave one villanelle in Excel as proof of concept but generally they’re not still in a table when I transfer them. I kind of get why you’d do something unorthodox, because I write my novels in plaintext, which is now widely seen as a bit weird; I use absolutely no formatting I don't have to, and I tag formatting with <i>basic html</i> because I want to be able to find it once it's in its final form and needs to be typset. That seems like more work too but it has internal logic. 

I think to me the issue is that I know what a pain in the ass it is to work with prose in Excel -- I actually do it quite a lot for work. The bulk of the work I am doing today is taking a sheet that has 40 names in it and writing a biographical blurb for each name on that name’s line in the sheet. It’s a method of data visualization fairly unique to the way I run the shop, but it works because you see the data points and the blurb side by side, and it makes it super easy to import all the information to the database eventually. 

But I also know its limitations. Like, I’m genuinely very curious, do you put the whole day's new writing into a single cell? I can't imagine you would because eventually you'd run into the issue of cell height limits, even if the cell took up the whole screen, and it would make scrolling a nightmare. Although if you struggle with re-reading and endlessly correcting rather than moving on to new work, it would certainly make that more difficult to do, which could be an advantage. Or do you put every new paragraph into a new cell? That makes more sense, though I'd wonder about whether quotation marks would fuck up the formatting. 

And it seems like especially with the latter (though really with either) it doesn’t actually make getting the wordcount significantly easier. I couldn’t figure out how to get the wordcount of a cell in Excel at all -- are you using COUNT, and building a pivot table? That’s quite impressive if so. Or are you making a new sheet for each day and writing into the new sheet? That seems like it would make it difficult to get everything out of the book easily, on the back end, but it would mean you’d get your eyes on every day’s work a second time. 

I tell you this not to try and evangelize you away from Excel, but just so that you know -- getting a daily wordcount in GDocs or Word is not super difficult, as long as you mark where you started that day. In GDocs, you just highlight what you want to count and hit Tools > Wordcount; the window will return something like Words: 207 of 309, meaning the document contains 309 words and you’ve highlighted 207 of them. In Word it’s slightly clunkier; you highlight the words and hit “Review > Wordcount” and it will tell you how many words are highlighted, but to get the total wordcount you have to de-highlight and do the wordcount again. 

In any case, honestly, do whatever makes it easiest to write, especially during NaNo. Just...maybe make sure it’s in a Word document before you submit it anywhere. :D

#writing #excel

[mushiver]

I haven't been a movie nerd even ONCE on this account. Here's my top 10 movies in 2023

1. The Lord of the Rings (trilogy)

IT STILL COUNTS AS ONE

Can't go wrong here. There's fantasy, action scenes, friendship, romance, badass dialogue, comedy. There's refreshing masculinity where men are close friends, fight for each other, die for each other, kiss each other on the forehead, sing, etc. The Aragorn Arwen romance is sweet and isn't overblown, and the main theme is to fight for good. If you're tired of anti-heroes and want a clean good vs. evil, this is it. The downside is not having poc representation and only 3 important women, but they are extremely awesome and play pivotal roles. If you've heard about LOTR for forever but never actually seen it, here's your sign.

2. The Lego Movie

This movie sells itself, but I have seen it maybe. 40 times. And I could quote it from start to end as a kid. It's funny, has crossover characters along with the main ones (like Batman, Superman, Gandalf, Abraham Lincoln, Han Solo), lots of references, and the main message is that you're special in your own way. It's very autism coded, I think

3. Jaws

Classic man vs. monster, and it's great if you don't watch thrillers and need something "dip your toes in." While the majority of the town goes all rambo trying to kill the shark, the main characters are the opposite. The chief of police is ultimately empathetic and wants to stop more people from being hurt, Matt Hooper is a shark expert "city boy" coming along, and Quint has a boat that needs to be bigger

4. My Cousin Vinny

Vinny is a lawyer taking a case to prove his cousin didn't murder a clerk, but he's the worst lawyer in existence. He forgot everything he learned in law school, can't stop wearing a leather jacket to court, and his fiancée saves him most times. It has some of the most quotable lines and 10/10 I recommend to Alabamans for the southern jokes

5. Knives Out

A modern "whodunit" mystery that shines the most because it's a comedy. The main character Marta is the only one who thinks she knows what happened, but she pukes every time she tells a lie. Benoit Blanc is also the most iconic detective to me and one of my favorite characters ever

6. Tommy Boy

This has a very similar tone to My Cousin Vinny, but it's a road trip movie. After Tommy's dad dies, he and Richard (a jerk coworker) try to sell autoparts to save his company. They're the worst salesmen in existence, but ultimately are creative and pull some shenanigans (Tommy and Richard go from rivals to buddies). It's from the 90s and not very chill with the r-slur and some fat jokes, but it's ultimately a feel-good movie if that isn't a dealbreaker for you

7. Jurassic Park

Like Jaws, another classic pop culture movie. The score is so good, and they make a world full of dinosaurs have the same magic feel as the wizarding world. It's an adventure movie with great action scenes and characters. (This is a trope I love personally but) Alan Grant is a grump who doesn't like kids, but later he looks after them. Ellie Sattler is one of my favorite characters ever, and Jeff Goldblum lays on a table. Survival movies are fun 10/10

8. Joker (2019)

DROOLING OVER THE CINEMATOGRAPHY. It's such a well-made movie, and you never know entirely what's real with unreliable narrating. It makes you feel for Arthur and understand his actions while knowing he made the wrong decisions in the end. Some think it's negative for mental health representation, but it can be used as a cautionary tale for the ways mentally ill people are mistreated and how the events that led to the start of the film weren't his fault. Ultimately, I think it inspires more empathy, and it's a piece of art

9. Signs

I'm a sucker for the "everything makes sense in the end" trope. A lot of people didn't like the combo of two supernaturals (the existence of God and aliens), but I don't think it ruins the movie. It centers around a family struggling with the death of their mother (or sister or wife, depending on the character), and the ex-priest dad had lost connection with his faith. He happens to find it again because of an alien invasion. Normal Tuesday

10. Arsenic and Old Lace

From 1944, it's a weird movie and the acting is iconic. Mortimer is trying to get to his honeymoon, but when he visits his aunts, he finds a dead body in the house. It's a comedy involving shenanigans, avoiding the police, and an uncle who thinks he's Teddy Roosevelt. (It's a bit outdated as far as mental illness goes, but Mortimer's goal is to put his family in the care of a mental institution rather than shipping them off or telling the police.) As a drama queen, I also appreciate Cary Grant being a drama queen

10 honorable mentions: Lego Batman, Napoleon Dynamite, The Goofy Movie, Clue, Psycho, Marriage Story, Into the Spiderverse, Avengers Endgame, Dead Poets Society, Muder on the Orient Express. Swag thanks for reading

#movies #movie recommendations #movie nerd #lord of the rings #the lego movie #jaws #my cousin vinny #knives out #tommy boy #jurassic park #signs #arsenic and old lace #joker #joker 2019

[devils-pirate-crew]

Bandages on his hands, on his face, on his shoulder. Long nights lying in a bed that isn't his. Soft chattering between two pirates as one unwraps the bandages around his torso, rubs more salve into the stinging wounds, then gently retucks them again. When the job is done, they sit down on the edge of the bed, telling stories quietly of life before the sea, life before life. A pause in the conversation.

"I don't know if he's going to make it," one pirate whispers. "Not that I doubt you, but... he's spent the last four days barely responsive. He's been barely clinging on ever since we found him. Hell, he couldn't even tell us his name. I can't believe he was even still alive..."

"He wants to live," the other person replies. "That's why he's alive. He's fighting for it."

"Didn't you say the same thing about Yak?"

"That was... different," the second pirate mutters - this is obviously a sore subject. "Yak's wounds - they were deep, and the infection had already set in... there wasn't much we could do but pray at that point. Our new friend's burns are mostly surface-level; the problem is they cover a lot of his body. And that they weren't treated for a few days didn't help the situation..."

"Look, I don't - I just don't want to see you hurt again." The first person sighs. In the dim candlelight, he reaches for his crewmate's hand, holding it, tender. "You're doing so well, really, especially with the situation you're in. And Nico agrees, I talked to him earlier today. Of course, he is complaining about the hammocks in the forecastle," he chuckles, "But maybe he'll finally agree to getting new cloth for those..."

"God, he's just a kid," the second's voice breaks on the last word - he coughs up a quiet sob, curling in on himself. "He's just a fucking kid..."

The first scoots closer, allowing the second to rest his head on his crewmate's shoulder. "I know... I know... he's going to make it. I believe in you."

"Believe in him, not me," the second exhales. "I can only do so much. It's up to him how hard he wants to fight."

Dawson opens his eyes. He's staring up at the wooden ceiling of a ship, not wholly indifferent from his hammock on Jersey Devil but definitely not quite the same. For example, he's lying on a bench, and the two concerned pirates are sitting on the other side of the table, giving Dawson side looks on a regular basis as they discuss something between themselves. The Voices hum along in the background -

Oh. Right.

He distantly remembers Arber's words - that the connection was for his own good. The Voices say to trust him. The Voices don't lie... right?

"...Hey," Dawson mumbles, scratching at the back of his bandaged hand self-consciously as he pops his head up to look at Arber and Juraj.

"Are you okay?" the latter immediately jumps into alertness, leaning over the table to get a better look at Dawson. "Arber said, about the spirits - "

"I guess I'm fine," he replies, pivoting to a sitting position - his back and joints ache from the uncomfortable bench.

"That's why I connected you with me," Arber pipes up, a little bit unnecessarily smug. "If I didn't..."

"He says you'd have went through a spirit break, which I roughly understood as literally exploding?" Juraj furrows his brow. "Or something like that. I don't really understand all of your guys's spirit stuff, but I think that's what that is?"

"More or less," Arber agrees. "You alright? Your spirits are okay?"

The pilot's mate closes his eyes for a second - the humming of the Voices is almost pleasant in its softness. "Yeah," he nods, looking down at the table. "Um. Sorry for all that..."

"If you apologize again, I swear," Juraj whines, rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner. "What am I going to do with you?"

"...That's actually a good question," the gunner mutters. "Because the kid definitely needs some... help," he settles on that word, "But Suzu said your ship's worried sick about you."

"I don't need - "

"You almost died." Juraj squeezes his eyes shut, exasperated. "Literally."

"I - " Dawson sighs, pivoting to leave that conversation behind. "You said something about... Suzu?"

"Our captain," Arber supplies. "We should really get out of here before, you know, he finds out..."

"We kind of lied to him that we didn't know where you were," the cook adds. "So now we might be fucked?" He smiles sheepishly.

#storyline #d.mercer|91 #j.slafkovsky|20 #a.xhekaj|72

[chrisbvigil]

I am beginning to believe that the very layout of "corporate structure" is why all Americans, even the corporate structures going to war with #SAG-AFTRA #WGA is the "actual problem" that needs to be glaringly corrected... permanently. Say this strike fails to persuade 'current studios' to make amends, and pay "actual talent" versus "talentless corporate executives" --- okay, fine... avenue for the 'actual' talent: START OVER! (What the hell does that mean?)

It means exactly what it sounds like: Start Over... the WGA and SAG-AFTRA take your future ip content and your talents, and form a new conglomerate... and this new conglomerate creates a true "permanent" worker protected "fair share" studio system which protect the "talents'" ip as their ip -- and not "corporate ip" bs we see now. And if the #DGA wishes to join, well, they got a hard decision to make.

What about other less overbearing smaller studios with unique ip who wanna do business in this new chapter leaving the big studios in the cold? Simple: any participating studio must follow the new proper pay standard by new hybrid model and THEY sign a contract to produce movies THROUGH the talent conglomerate --- NOT through the corprations. "Reverse the role" on what is obviously a dead corporate model that has no interest in doing whats right.

Saddest Result: What about all the content thus far under current corporate ownership? That's the rub: RIP old Hollywood -- start over means... Start Over. Sometimes you have to chart a new course in history -- that means letting your past works go (yeah, i know, ouch) Down the road, when old Hollywood eventually but slowly bleeds to death... the new "talent share conglomerate" will re-acquire those old works, and eventually transfer the ip fiscal rights appropriately into correct shares to where it should have always been... directly and with protections to the ACTUAL ARTISTS (that will take a few decades though)

Its new... its scary... and it is completely warranted based on what is transpiring. Never underestimate artist creativity, especially in capacity to pivot, adapt, and reinvent themselves to reshape the world, including current outdated corporate models no longer welcome in the new era. This new hybrid effort is the next logical step in advancing "collective bargaining" to "collective fair share" designed for 'the talent' and their families to prosper for generations.

"That just not reasonable Chris!" And the current structure of unequal pay is?! Yeah, i thought so... put your heads together, come up with a "proposal model with proposed start date (that's key)", walk into current negotiations, slide this 'time-bomb' across that table, and put the pressure on them to listen and follow your demands -- like a huge nuclear-like deterrence that you will mobilize should your demands not be met by said date. (Fly on the wall in that meeting): Corporations: "Oh... you think you can do better?" Your Response: "Don't tempt us -- they know 'our' faces and names out there -- they don't know yours -- make this easy on yourself" (Need to act fast... scabs are at the doorstep)

Sometimes you have to light torches in your own village... to humble a city.

#SAG @wilwheaton #fran dresher @frandrescherr #ron perlman

[tomyo]

Hometown Story

The expectations of this game can be summarized as C grade ds game to awkward mobile game era game to one of those games that they really mean it when it takes time to warm into.

Given my years with Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons, I was genuinely expecting a much more in depth experience but came to an admittedly mid experience. When you find out it was also released on iphone with minimal downgrade, it suddenly makes it clear why I was able to buy a sealed copy for $4 . It isn't bad, it's a different focus and while admittedly too bare bones at the start, once I found a good gamefaqs guide for event triggers I found my rhythm. You really don't have to do much in the game, walk around, pick up everything you find, maybe buy some stuff from the village but definitely come to buy from the 2pm merchant, and stop in your shop to check a bunch of people out every so often.

Things I wish I better knew starting out:

Your tables are not limited, the game has you start out by just dropping one down but you can in fact immediately put more down. My dumb ass went in game weeks with just one item for sale awkwardly waiting around for someone to want it thinking I had to desperately wait for the merchant to have more.

The day doesn't start till you open your shop so if you want to reorganize a little first, do it at 6am.

Sometimes events are triggered by putting up key items to be sold on shelves. I didn't want a rando to buy it but the won't. However, also put it into unreachable corners since you won't need to restock those shelves often. I would definitely cross check guide info on what items go to what event if you dgaf about spoilers like me because sometimes you'll get them for characters you haven't even met yet which takes up valuable space. Then there's ones like the masterpiece which might require in game months of sitting around for their event to trigger.

Fill your store with fruits and sewing kits initially as some characters require that for unlock.

ALWAYS. BUY. WOOD. I was so used to wood being such an easy resource but this game has made it hell for me to wait to get 5 pieces. It can only be bought from the merchant and while he stocked it often at the start, suddenly he never had it. I'm making so much money but I'm stuck on level two because of not having wood.

Thus far I've gone a 12 hour playthrough probably with some gratuitous pausing to read several half finished sources to know that I'm supposed to do. I'm the type of person who like to tailor a guide for my HM style games so my ADHD doesn't overwhelm me trying to keep up with all the tasks so having a lot of very barren wikis and gamefaqs is stressful to say the least. It's been more of a game of patchwork this time. Speaking of said ADHD, the point was I'd say I've made it about half way through the story. I'm at a very awkward point where I feel like I've finished some quest lines while still not having met some pivotal characters to the story. So far I think I'm missing 7 story based characters. It is pretty annoying that the cutscene activation is fickle, I'll follow everything but sometimes it just won't activate that day. I'm barely one month through and I'd even say it's possible to see that whole game in just that one month, maybe two at most but its dependent on things you can't control. Multiple items sit on my shelf waiting to introduce a character to me for weeks in game while I had two item based cutscenes for a character back to back. I mean like literally the moment I placed the next item down after having watched the first. The imbalance in that can only make me think I might end up getting stuck in a slow down after this point.

I personally would like to see the story through if I can. I've been mostly playing this while sick at this point so I've had the time to rip through it.

I think the most unexpected thing about it is how the scenes kind of actually stick with me. As a long time fan of the series, I feel like I've always had a surface level relationship with villagers in farm games. I would say older ones give relatable struggles but don't get too deep into them, maybe even the closest being A Wonderful Life but that's a series I consumed as a kid when a lot of things went over my head and admittedly a lot of my backlog is just catching up on a series that admittedly, looks to have gotten extremely fluffier as it went on. Olive Town has not been that deep. I think one of the bachelors has a somewhat deep plot but since I'm not romancing him, I'm just off with my horsegirl girlfriend having cute dates and befriending the locals when I'm not drowning in makers. And then on the other hand theres Stardew Valley which for some reason only hit me in the last year how like, all the townspeople are just as terrible as the villians.

Maybe that's a stretch but it slapped me in the face when I realized the reason why I spent so much time on my farm was because a lot of them had pretty unlikable traits. So in all the places to feel emotionally invested, I did not expect the half baked spinoff to be it. Yet something about how the mayor and his wife are actually kinda cute with each other or how the mayor's wife coyly has an unaging friend wanting to bring her puddings, or the kinda real moments where the fisherman and the girl from the sea are clearly in an intimate moment and I'm let to realize this isn't even a rival moment like it would've been in some other game. This is it, you are irrelevant to the relationships these characters have.

I think maybe there was some really good power to that. The fact that it seems intentionally most of the romancible npcs are the last characters to arrive in town (two still have not moved in for me) but that you aren't in control of the relationship and can't even date till after the main storyline I think is actually a function that would benefit it's parent series. Imagine a Bokumono where you spent the majority of the time focusing on your farm, building the relationship you have with the town, and saving the day (the town, the harvest goddess, the farm etc) and then after all that some of the friends you met turned out to be people who might like you as more than that. I get why the formula is what it is, this series started in the 90s as a simple 'work hard and raise a family' type of life sim narrative and while it's been modernized that's still at its core but when we talk about franchise shake ups, I could see this being a really good one. I think to some extent people look at the marriage candidates as a check list goal rather than characters to bond with and sometimes that dating check mark even made me not really associate with other villagers outside of benefit. I can't say I'm still not doing that to some extent but the fact the character cutscenes are the progression checks has some satisfying merit to them. I can't ignore the village anymore and it's made me appreciate the characters beyond their benefit to my part in the story. How do I put this, I like the idea of being with Reina in PoOT because I like the idea of her with me and it also feels wrong that she's the only person in the whole town who lives in a basement and I could change that. I only ever saw Rick as an absolute dick as a kid because well he was but also out of some competition to win over Karen and I could never understand why she would go for him. In games like Animal Parade, I'm debating my spouse based off of what kids they'd have moreso in the way I'd miss out on content rather than think about how those characters work with each other or why they'd like each other at all. But hell, again I see this fucking probs a mermaid and fisherman and the way he's bothered she likes being with him and its like okay wow fuck, I'm feeling things for these baby faced sprites.

So like yeah, this was low key working up to talking about the big spoilery plot twist that they kill the local boy. He's literally every generic child boy character to exist in one of these games. He's excitable and adventurous and like, I acually hate kids y'know? But fuck if they didn't masterfully try to fuck with your heart to grow attached to him. Of course they use him for a bunch of like, early level questlines. He's basically a tutorial kid but then the town starts to expand and he gets some fellow snot nosed kids in town, a girl he likes and a 'in the shadow of my manly dad' best friend and y'know conveniently he's always there in storylines. His mother has a few about her restaurant and he's there fucking up making a sign because he's a hyper and excitable 9 year old or something. His sister is interested in medicines so one of those episodes revolves around him. Pretty much everything related to his Peter being sidekick to his grizzled shonen warrior dad has him chilling in the background as well or if there's a crowd around some newcomer of course he's apart of it. I applaud how well they probably actually fucked with the few who played this who then had to deal with a dead kid. Digs up a whole bunch reading The Bridge to Terabithia as a teen.

Like I said, I'd love to make it to that point if the spread of content last well. I don't think I'll play much after this weekend of the game if I don't but I'd say in the end $4 is worth the experience I got.

At first the town looks garishly barren. I still can't fully say it looks good either. A lot of areas start to get a couple of houses in it as it goes on and it really changes a lot though I feel the Town Square needed some much more in it. The map is confusing as hell and the fixed angles are nauseating at first but I've mostly worked out a rhythm. It was hard to stick through it this far if I'm honest but I think it was worth it.

#tomyo's backlog adventure #backlog #hometown story

[suzannnemillerhistoryandresearch]

"IF WINTER COMES"/"THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE" screenplay notes & assorted 70s/80s poetic/diary writing

UNDATED

She felt a visceral loathing for the story of Abraham and Isaac. Terry, armed with his beloved Kierkegaard defended it as an event of the highest faith. She found it brutal, submissive and representative of the tyranny of adults over children and God over man. They argued until there was nothing more to say. She could never marry T. and yet she knew he would be a loving, good man all his life. Something about these beliefs of his threatened everything that was just beginning to unfog.

UNDATED - 70s/80s?

I've been telling people for years that I'm writing a book, when in point of fact not one page has been written. I've gone to great lengths to establish this myth, masquerade or plain lie, however you wish to view it. Perhaps you, on some lofty level whereas I am low, most low. One thing, I've taken the trouble to convert my garage into a cozy studio; a writer's den, complete with long shelves of books, a big table, a comfortable chair that pivots from the desk-table to the typewriter sitting grandly on its white stand. O I love it! There are photos of famous authors on the wall. On the desk is a dictionary and a thesaurus, under the glass top are postcards from Florence (The Duours) and Avila (The walls) The authenticity of the place is Killing. I like to go in there and smoke. I do not like to go in there and write.

People are starting to suspect. No wonder, since I have shown my studio t all my friends, we've even had little parties in there, but I've failed to show them one bit of evidence that any work actually takes place there. How can I continue to keep this deception going? The fact is I can't. Oh, I could announce one day dissembling an anguished sternness that I've burned the whole "manuscript". What could they say against such a fair accompli! That would give me several more years provided no one remembers I have no fireplace. But what are a few more years really since I can't possibly tell that tale a second time. People would lose all patience.

UNTITLED - Early 80s?

Well, part of the problem was that people got so self-couerius about acting out their neurosis that they forgot how to act out their life! I mean, they got tied in knots, afraid of feeling, afraid of not feeling, afraid their actions weren't pure, and then their was a lot of back biting amongst the staff. They hated art, the women's movement, (illegible) well, life really. Only therapy was valid, was real. They were tremendously cripped people really. But the point is but it's a great experiment. I learned a lot. Only I had to get out of there back into the world.

You are probably one of new women, yes?

Perhaps. But what can I accuse men of that the greatest of them haven't accused themselves already? That's not fuffilment for me. My greatest fear is that I will leave this life with not ever having known what it meant. And then I think, I am not meant to know. But how do I know what I am experiencing. I am cold.

The grass is high.

The water moves.

The cat's asleep.

Is that it?

My days a mere chain of facts registered in my senses.

What of this:      I dreamed a terror

                        I hurt, I wept

                        I need something

                        I made a mistake

This introduces complication

                        And what of:

                        They kill one another

                        They fool me

                        They don't care

                        Nothing guides me

                        The cosmos is silent?

(Reverse of this page, potential Perils of Zenobia dialouge, crossed out.)

Z - I'm like to those people who give lectures and interviews about how they got there, that it takes time.

Z - O god I'm raving. Reduced to raving.

UNDATED - early 80s?

V - But Zen, really...

Z - Irreversibly, no. You don't even know it, Vivian.

G - That wouldn't be important. It's for you to say therby I acknowledge my relations with the universe.

Z - Relation? In what sense?

G - I mean, not ah, relationship. Your oness with the stars.

Z - It's a secret I've guarded for a long time. I don't want it cretinized.

Coming toward me her hulking semi-blindness, not so much walking as shifting into gear, crossing the room as it were a pot-holed road.

(Note: the above Perils of Zenobia dialogue was X'ed out)

(Note: the following writing on the subject of nuclear war appear to be notes for an unwritten screenplay, "If Winter Comes")

April 15, 1986

Kathleen’s father

Military man (?)

She + David can reach all the American children

She can contact them through her father.

David  + Kathleen

Middle class + very rich children

Phone

Mail

ham radios

_____________

blackmail - coe(?)est the ad (?) into international cooperation

total (disarmament?).

___________________________

Martin (?) - David + Kathleen

they decide to do something - what they decide to do is our film.

UNTITLED

David’s father an employee at a nuclear plant

Martin had a penpal

pen in che(?)

David ha too (?)

I couldd we get (?)

Kathleen father is a high General So other (?) to children in American (?) all over the

UNTITLED

I wanted you to have something soft and slinky on such a hard, hard day. Please accept this in memory of that wonderful day in L.A. when I presented you to Stella.

Luke 17:32

Peter There shall be no flesh saved

The earth + all things shall burn up

Coming of Christ = nuclear war

God will intervene

God has other plans. Kingdom of God will come.

UNTITLED

Physical Injuries - Burns above all      3rd Degree

Winds of 100 or 180 mph burnt ear drums - deafness

Lung damage from fumes

Retinal damage - blindness

Ruptured internal organs - hemorrhaging

Compound fractures - collapse of buildings

Acute radiation - mass infection because of invering of resisence

Decomposing corpses - epidemics

There would be no: Trained personnel intact

No burn center

No laboratory equipment + x-rays

No blood + plasma supply

No drugs - antiseptics, antibiotics

no electricity or transportation

THE GREAT HOAX - THE ILLUSION OF SECURITY

1 20-megaton explosion = 100 million people killed = 70 Hiroshima explosions

World arsenal = 50,000 warheads

"We have met the enemy and they are us." Pogo

We do not benefit by terrorizing the Soviet Union

Nuclear War Scenario

200,000,000 will be killed immediately

60,000,000 injured

80% of physicians will die

80% of hospitals gone

Food + water contaminated

Transportation + communications out

Fallout

OVERCOMING

PSYCHIC NUMBING

LOS ALAMOS

BIKINI

ENIWETOK - 1st hydrogen explosion

LIVERMORE 2nd weapons lab

UNTITLED

There will be no hospitals, doctors, nurses or medicines.

There will be no transpiration system.

Starvation and exposure will soon ensure.

Nothing will be produce and even so nothing could be shipped.

Education will stop.

The cultural heritage of one thousand years will be gone.

Farms will no longer produce without fuel power which can't be transported.

The things we are "defending" will be good: free institutions, free enterprise, capitalism, etc.

1 Hiroshima bomb = 1 million bombs in present world arsenals.

After 1 hour radioactivity = 500 million Kilograms of radiation

10 tons of TNT for every person on the earth

World Health Organization spent $83 million on smallpox eradication = less than 1 strategic bomber

David's War Room

Maps of possible targets and missile placements

UNTITLED

In the screenplay stay close to the actions of the individual characters.

The children + their parents

Specific characters the audience can say this is me, or my child

"More phony than a glass eye"

Scenes in classrooms of children (illegible)

THE CHILDREN’S CRUSADE - a screenplay

Opening shot: we see a peaceful, manicured neighborhood. Let it begin in daylight and then as if in a time exposure, we see the image of one begin with day and end with a night shot of the same house. Camera has been stationary. It begins to move toward the house, closer and close until it stops at a bedroom window. We see the shadow, or silouette of a child hanging by the neck.

Cut to parents getting out of car and walking into the house.

MAN

(getting out)

Because they’ve always brung up things I don’t want to hear about. Fannie, Christ what a subject for a party.

WOMAN

(they enter the house. C. follows them in)

yeah, yeah.

(Camera moves out of the house, slowly rolls back and a light appears in the hallway. There is a piercing scream which turns into an ambulance siren. Shot of ambulance pulling into a different house. The medics rush in through the house (or apt.) and examine a child’s body. It’s head is blown up + blue. (Unisex children) She - he has died of gas poisoning. Mother (shattered) points to open over, rugs against the bottom of the doors. Husband at table, head in hands

A funeral. In the crowd is a boy of about 15 and a girl of 15. The camera moves from face to face. The minister says the words. Cut to a boy girl walking away. The mother of the (second?) child. Stops him and hands her a sealed letter.

MOTHER

Cindy always looked up to you. She left this for you.

GIRL

Takes the letter. Did she leave any ---

MOTHER

Oh, yes, all about the world.

UNTITLED

Our hero leaves his room in a comfortable, warm feeling upper middle class house.

He goes to the servant’s quarters where he has taken over a vacant room.

Mother says -

(What does he do in there, Bob?)

(Bob - he says he doesn’t like to work in the same room he sleeps.)

Mother, that’s his reason?

Bob: Yes, that’s what he says.            - Bob is also doing something

else Find that activity

Cut back to David. he passes the family chauffer who respectfully nods.

He enters the room with a key.

He enters in the dark we see no light for more than normal time just the faintest blurred lights somewhere.

Light suddenly comes on

We see a spartan room.

        There are a selected assortment of photos of burned children, the Baby (?) in the ruins, (avoid the mushroom cloud for now) the burned city. Pilot’s face (Enola Gay) Also scientific pictures + drawn items for Elrich-Sagan book.

Dominating the room is a huge elaborate ham radio.

Friend “Hey man what’s this thing! Thi is from the middle ages. You’re in the computer age!”

UNTITLED

David collects information on all child suicides.

He makes tapes.

He distributes them, mail,

He begins his network.

He is obsessed as only an idealist can and should.

God, David, how long do you think if we worked hard, could we get to where we are now?

P. 120 - 122 Sagan

David and Gayle and ? have been studying in the room

They didn’t know it would lead to suicide of ---

There is a banner around the room - “Since 1945 the nature of warfare has changed so profoundly that the future of the human race, of generati(?), is in peril."

UNTITLED

Ed in

He loved the dialogue!

____________________

Opening children running, lots of children

(Roger Corman) Homage de Trauffault Trauffat Tra Truffaut got it!

Children are in a state of grace

1. 2 boys making breakfast for themselves

2. Create an ordinary American day

___________________________

child #1 - Well, I don’t have to do it till you can do it.

child #2 - I’m gonna do it.

#1 - Well, when?

2 - Pretty soon.

1 - I’m waiting for you

2 - OK, let’s do it Saturday morning.

1 - Yeah, ok.

Mom - what are you going to do on Sat morning?

2 - (pause but no give away)

        The yard work.

Mom - Great! Finally!

Anxious kid  Mommy, There was a whole city: now it’s all gone

I meant, they built it back

but it was all gone.

Mom - Darling, slow down. What are you telling me?

Kid - On T.V. this b(?), just one there was a big city and it’s all gone!

(UNTITLED)

Play or screen script

Young girl                 Act 1

                Mexico

young girl

                        New York          Act II

young boy

                        ‘ ‘                      Act III

Contact Women for Peace

613 Stanford Drive

93401

Mrs. Woolworth

6625 Brevity Lane

La Gorce Island

Miami Beach, Fla.

III

Scenario for The Children’s Crusade

A young boy and girl aged 12 have started an anti-nuclear protest which involves the volantary agreement of (some?) their fellow students to commit suicide. Scenes of freshman high school class oh, so normal on the surface ... underneath, anxiety. These two convince the others it is the thing to do ... discussion of (young?) die by me or altogether Many desparing, (?), responding.

Some agree but are scared to do it. Many secret meetings in a special “play” room in girl’s affluent house. “My mother never wanted me to play in the same room as I slept in. Play was taken very seriously!”

(?) Institute

Sherman Oaks

Robert (Souin?)

UNTITLED

Zalman King

Alfred Rufus Isaacs

Producers

Man - I wonder what you were watching? (Doing dishes)

Kid - Japan.

Mom - Oh. Yes.

Kid - Everyone burned up. Even babies. (He’s spreading a sandwich (or something more unusual.)

Complete night

Total winter

Everything dies, everyone + everything. Trees, flowers, animals.

Cold is unbearable.

There is nowhere to escape it.

All freezes over.

There is no sun.

(Felinni’s old man in the fog in Armacord. He says, this must be what death is like. I didn’t like it. No trees, no birds, no people, no wine. Nothin’! - he gives the great Italian up yours gesture.)

My mother, you know mother’s against nuclear war, she practically started it!

---

--

Bumpter stickers “Saw a new sticker today - -

---- -----

Our young hero has an experience with death, the death of a child in his family.

UNTITLED

David is talking to a close neighbor the father of his good friend who committed suicide.

Dad: but my boy, my boy

D - I know ...

Dad: My son

D: I know

Dad: Why, why he

David: Ouch that hurts

UNTITLED

Fundimentalist - nuclear holocaust is the unleashing of Armageddon threatened by God in the Bible.

But David says it is we who are doing it.

To (mirage?) a God guiding over head is to evade our responsibility, which is ours because God gave us free will.

The Catholic Priest reads a (description?) of the suicides in Hell.

Veronica describes a nuclear winter which is a worse Hell

because Earth as we know it will be gone.

Even though it is unthinkable, it remains all we can do in order to understand what we are facing.

Insane crimes against humanity are not prevented from happening because they are unthinkable. They have happened.

_________

Pascal: “It is easier to endure death without thinking about it than to endure the thought of death without dying.”

UNTITLED

The young see their parents not coping well, either.

(Shrug?) + get drunk - swear

Not good Christians but the kid to be

Divorce, (does?) time with the children spent

Parents spend time in their own interest.

War, accidents, violent deaths

Threat of global suicides

Kids can’t trust the parents. Not recognized as a person. No moral support.

Rock bands understand how I felt - Satanism.

Chronic loneliness.

----------------------/-/---------------

David argues

1 Exposure to ultra-violet radiation because of ozone reduction

You’d be severely scalded, your cornea would burn out from reflected sun as well as U.V. rays you would go blind! Birds and animals would all go blind, too.

UNTITLED

The argument - frozen into inaction by fear of retaliation by the other side

which is intending to do something and intending not to do it - a hideous contradiction

Argument! The sole purpose of possessing nuclear strategic arms is not to win war but to prevent it. So the terror has to be ongoing and relentless.

Terror cannot be allowed to deteriorate toward safety.

Monstrous logical mistake - the logic of the deterrence strategy is dissolved by the first strike that it is meant to prevent.

Argument 2 Retaliation is senseless.

What purpose a second strike if there is no nation left to defend?

Deferring an attack by the “appearance of irrationally inexorable commitment”

Brinksmanship as a solution.

Nixon’s “Madman Theory” of the Presidency. USSR would bow to the President’s will if they believe he has taken leave of his senses and was ready to risk holocaust.

Specious arguments

Terror = safety

Threat of annihilation = survival

(Debris of history.)

Specious - Preparation of annihilation to prevent annihilation

(Soverignity?) + national interests are the real reason not preventing the use of nuclear bombs

The nuclear power put a higher value on the National Sovernigity than on human survival.

We can chose to live. We can chose to unmake the weapons.

UNTITLED

Notes on winter

David + V are pleading we’ve got to think about it even though it’s easier not to.

When can it be judged acceptable for everybody to be killed?

We want to slaughter a population that is already suffering and oppressed.

Question of art in a nuclear world, even if I produced masterpieces that would have been timeless, there will be nothing but oblivion for them because there will be no me (will?) be around to experience them. Likewise all human achivement.

It is demoralizing my will to accomplish anything.

Extinction is the murder of the future.

It is not ourselves we wish to spare, but a form of respect and love for others, the species, and the unborn.

Love keeps no accounts. - Bible

“Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds” Shakespeare

We must rebel against this we must take action. The children face numbness and inertia whenever they turn to adults for arousal.

UNTITLED

War is ruined as a solution forever. We are asked to shape our world so that world politics no longer relies on violence.

We must arrive at decisions without resort to war.

We ask for disarmament. Negotiations to ensure the survival of all. That all citizens must demand it of their leaders simultaneously on this day.

UNTITLED

If Winter Comes

15 - 16 years old

3 friends one commits suicide

He becomes the catalyst for the other two.

- General reactions

Confessional scene: Catholic boy/girl - confess to the suicide plan.

Priest reads from Dante

>->-> Kid reads from Nuclear Winter

Idea: The groups of kids talking but they (because?) they have very faulty information

mostly fear

Adults also =

Newspaper publishing a record of the daily deaths all around the country then U.V. information, official report stating the numbers of child suicides in each nation.

The true figure of the situation in the Soviet Union is kept under top secret.

UNTITLED

If Winter Comes

I       Random Notes

1 Martin is Davd’s older brother*

2 Kathleen is Martin’s Lover at start *

3 Martin walks in the ocean weighted with stones. / At Night *

4 David inherits Martin’s war room

5 Earth exploding at beginning and Earth

6 Trailer at very end with famous person

7 Teacher arranging explosion for her class

NOTES FOR "THE CHILDREN'S CRUSADE"/"IF WINTER COMES"

Theme Epedemic of Suicide among children

Beginning with some isolated cases expanding to world epidemic

        (Note: Look up Children's Crusade in middle ages.)

Jerry Falwell family

Son emerges as leader

contrast of right-to-lifer with pro-nuclear build-up stand

Mysterious deaths by self-mutilation

Scene with child

                        cough medicine

                        uncle + grandfather tossing

Scene with special suicide clinic

Interviews with parents of suicided children

Video games

Punkers

even Star Wars (well, we like some war but not That one)

The media in general for children [Not to lay all on, etc]

Child's experience with photos of Hiroshima

Another's experience with an older person survivor

Child writing to pen pal in Korea Brazil

                                                        France Africa (?)

Brown University voted (?) should stock suicide pills in case of nuclear war.

Nuclear war is suicide.

If there's a nuclear war we don't want to be there. The houses catching fire, all the police, bombs falling, blowing up trees. It scares me. 6 year old.

I had a bad dream.

Police block off streets, so people couldn't get intp their cars + blown up

I dreamed our house will blow up

when a plane flies over, and I don't what kind. I'm afraid.

[Children are angry - futureless young women are angry with men because they

They are acting, they want attention

Let's play radiation sickness, fingers falling off on the playground.

They are cry babies.

They are crying out against the illusion that such a war is survivable.

Child:

On the news, if they say there's going to be world war 3 what does it make you think about

Dying!

My parents say we might + might not but don't be afraid you won't be hurt.

Do you believe them?

Personalize the Inconcievable

Teacher protests - my children aren't worried, they don't play nuclear games.

Of course they don't talk about it if you don't let them talk about it.

NOTES FROM SCRAPBOOK:

Play

characters:

2 demanding women in 60's

M+G

Goldie the dog (offstage?)

                       (or could the dog be invisible?)

Woman in 40's

To please them both: She loves them both.

Some situation in which one wants hidden from the other, some complicated naunce of a third relationship concerning a certain man, a drinker

Always return to your center

UNTITLED/UNDATED

It occurred to me that if I could quiet my brain long enough, I could get down to telling my story, perhaps earn enough to have some kind of income instead of living as I do in feverish idleness, smoking cigarettes, drinking wine, weeping and moaning. Not the kind of existence which arouses respect of admiration in anyone. Some years ago, I started writing in this old style book, the kind of blank book with the day and year printed on the top with a line underneath that reads 90th day ---275 days to follow, then a little box which reads clear, cloudy, rain, snow with a space for a check mark. I had stopped on friday, March 31, 1961 and I am sure I stopped because my life had stopped or rather gone away and it's been always somewhere ever ever since. How many days to follow I can only guess when at times I have the courage to even think about my life. I certainly never thought it would go like this. I am certainly surprised at the way it turned out so far. I am annoyed to have sunk so low, of course. It seems useless to explain that's all been a spiritual quest, Spiritual quests are fashionable these days. I suppose they always have been. There's always been a space for a few stimulating lunatics. And from the sheltering comfort of a chair, if that's where you happen to be while reading, you can say, how courageous, how awesome to have lived like that so on the brink, but no thank you, I'd rather not do it myself. The idea is to take someone through the journey, lead him down the abyss and pulling no stops, let him get the feel of the place and then with masterful navigation, deposit him safely on some high plateau of victory. To do this without hysteria, without being heavy handed, takes a mind steeped in serenity, a mind already conscious of having subdued the forces that would have crushed it. Let me say right off that I just can't tell whether I've won or not, all I know is that I've had enough. It all seems to be a struggle to ward off death. I say let it come, putrid though the thought it. I'm just another clinging, struggling worm no better than anyone else, my nails are giving way and I'm about to fall. Yet while I cling I have noticed the beauty of the flower, though occasionally plant life terrifies me, but I can't yet rejoice in the whole situation.

As for today, check the clear box, in fact the day is of a supreme clearness rarely seen in these parts anymore. I live in one of the last frontier cities, where nothing is old, a city full of the bad taste of all the bandits and reprobates who built it. Their greed for gold usually stinks up the air just as it must have in the old days when its founders followed the stench of the conquistadors. For stench is what this city truly loves though these dwellers pretend otherwise. I have no idea why I'm here rather than elsewhere. It seems a ridiculous place to live, but that is probably itself the reason. Grandiose perversity, that's what I've fallen to. I'm so degraded as to not even own a book or a scrap of music, not a trace of past refinements. A stench now follows me too and the city suits me just fine. It maintains in me such a high level of irritation that I have no time to notice how miserable I am. So there is no need to fear that this is a chronicle of whining complaints, rather than just a plain nasty book.

This isn't the way I wanted to write it. I had in mind a work of high seriousness, something along the lines of a Hilke or at least a Hesse, but I cannot stifle the twisted grin that gives me away. Surely those noble writers were spared certain demons. It's all up in the bringing of course, and mine having been of the lowest, shabbiest, crudest order, what can you expect.

One day I found myself leaving the city for good. It just happened. The place I chose has qualities opposite to the cities I had always lived in. Here all is lush, orderly, trim and tasteful. A small town of deceptive peacefulness, whose real sufferings are made invisible by a magic trick. There is an elusive agreement that all is well. I am urged to agree to avoid unpleasantness. Propriety and demeanor are highly valued.

        What I've taken to doing, when I have fulfilled my obligations, when I have maintained my bella figura long enough, when I can not stand the strain of compulsive sanity any longer, is to get in my car as soon as the sun sets, drive up into the mountains and wail at the night. This little bit of theatre is made more effective for my purposes, more authentic by the deeper blackness than the skies over the cities. The stars are more painful to look at. Their calm contrasted to my confusion. How I'd like to be a flaming gas. How I marvel at their existence free of feeling. I take my wine up to the high hills and risking a lot, I drink and howl. I pound the ground, screaming like a beast. Soon the shits come and I expound from my anus a lecture on the skids. I'm as deaf and blind and someone in a rut, panting for erotic deliverance, like those couples who must do it, even if the postman sees them. I must wail and laugh. Yes, laughter joins us, me and the stars, in clandestine clownery. My final defense is to laugh at my trick, playing truant from my pretty sleeping town to rage in the baser dwellings of coyote and rattlesnake.

        After I've tired myself out and all the wine is gone, I drive slowly, cowardly back to the sparkling order between the sea and the hills. I creep into my beautiful apartment, the one with all the conveniences. I am fastidious, so I purify myself and fall into a grateful sleep. I am aware of dreams trivial and silly, revealing a nature lacking in grace.

        I never make these journeys in the moonlight. Only the pitchest nights can pull the howls out of me. For the moon, despite it's recent diminution, sucks and lulls me into an amorphous mystery which silences me. Debilitates my anguish by throwing a brightness on my shield, glamorizing it falsely for I know it's covered with despicable stains.

        If I had my way, and I never do, I'd have the stars removed since they make the setting so grand. "A multiplicity of uniformity" someone wrote of them. The setting I'm trying to recreate would be a replica of my first consciousness. The black starless place of the birth canal where one's howls are unheard due to the lack of acoustics.

        But O, to be rocked in a cradle of optimism! I think to myself, you fool. Why can't you let yourself be seduced for once into the sweet comforts of life. Reach out for the blessed enjoyments, get hold of a mouthful of contentment and smile. Walking on Sixth Avenue one warm late night in New York, returning from some bad encounter or another, I was eager to get home. I can still feel the respectably serious expression I had on my face. Along came a man in a truck, slows down along side me and gives me a loutish order to smoke. I volleyed with something obscene. If I had my lance I would have run him through.

        Which brings me to something I've noticed. Aside from the commonplace crimes, the ancient ones that still appall people, mobilize their outrage; there are any number of spiky little crimes that for all their mildness have the power to evoke certain death by abandonment on those who commit them. If you want to see somebody turn from you with disgust, quiet disgust, speed away and never come back, then tell them how repulsive you are. It acts on them like dissentary. They rush to the toilet to shit you out, their very entrails are assaulted. And since they can't digest you, they must isolate you. Soon you'll be as lonely as a feotus in an angry womb.

Thou shalt not put theyself down. Thou shalt respect thyself and admire thyself. Thou shalt hold thyself in esteem for thou art one of the wonders (no matter if one were mindlessly fucked into being by two mindless people) and thou shalt stand up straight and walk thereof.

        Of course these hissings embarrass me. I too would like to play golf among the corpses in this peculiar world. Why do I pretend to have something to compare it with? Peculiar? Peculiar to what? How could i pretend to compare when I, as you, know nothing but this world? My mind imagines itself to know what it doesn't know. Whereas what I really feel is this business of having a whole life on my hands. I've been given all this without knowing what to do with it. One must choose, one must not just drift hoping for a solution, a niche even. One must decide the true course of one's true life. I know that. I know that. But how free am I? Not at all, a little bit, or completely? How can I know, when I am the problem, I am the puzzle. I don't like admitting to the collapse of my charm. The loss of my good looks, my mystique. Just another old fart of forty one. Well, my dear, I'm not complaining about that light that's gone from my eyes. That light with its mesmerizing tickle to it actually was caused by the diseases of hope, enthusiasm and tunnel vision. No, I'm not complaining. I still indulge with cozy self-deception, in that very light showing up in the eyes of some angelic pop singer. If I'm drunk enough I even say, How beautiful.

        What is making me so cancerously exhausted in this effort to safeguard other people's illusions, the fatuous 'joy of life', their uncontrollable greed for paradise.

        Once removed from the black tunnel, mentioned before, and eventually being promoted to the sixth grade, I encountered my first experience of exile in the round. The last little fears of mankind lined themselves up as neatly as electrons do when they want to. Entirely the outcome of all the hopes in my family being violently exploded one night - like a movie set. Daddy had thrown all the Duncan Fife furniture out the windows, and had to be 'put away'.

        My skin, my most telegraphic organ, took over the job of my voice and began protesting the events which followed. The flight in the night of my mother's old Packard, her subsequent depression, the meaning of 'put away' itself. It took the form of an untreatable series of scaly sores that spread all over my body. My classmates, immediately recognizing the signs of disaster and vulnerability, cut me out by a reflex so primal it's given me a life long nostalgia for pre-historic times. Bewildered by the impact, I lifted my eyes to my teacher securely girdled in her crepe dresses, plump and powder pussed. She, in turn, laid eyes on me which to this day sting like an adder. If I read them correctly, they said, why I am inflicted with this child? I who plan to spend my summer in my own way, far from these creatures. The outcome was certain, the whole class was miserable. My presence was dreaded. I graciously withdrew.

Playing truant with my little brothers in our tiny crummy house, the shades pulled down, I experienced some euphoric release. We draped the blankets from the bureaus to the bunk beds and made ourselves a tent. We lit candles and ate Wonder Bread with butter and white sugar. No one was the wiser. I wrote the excuse notes myself, forging my mother's handwriting, our dramas were taken from B movies and comic books and mother always found us cheerful when she came home from Champion Spark Plug. Ah, that magical name, Champion Spark Plug! Payer of our bills, provider of our baloney and Kool Aid, our Miracle Whip, and our roast on Sundays, our Savior factory. In 35 years my mother was only laid off once for a short time, they were a good employer all right.

Unbelievable as it was to me, they came and got us and reinstated me and my brothers right back in school. Why would they want to seek me out when they shrank from the sight of me? Caught between duty and murder, I suppose. And who the hell cares now after all those years. Now it's only an abscess for the mountains.

Dante's sin would have placed him in purgatory. He said so. Mine would place me in hell. Among the suicides. The sad thing about hell is that there is no way to work out the suffering. I may yet work out mine. I wanted to be an artist but all my energies have to go in recreating myself. This task takes it all. It has burned the poetry out of me and taken my craft away. It's an effort of great magnitude just to maintain the slightest communion with life, to give destruction the slip. I refuse to die evil.

UNDATED LETTER

Dear Mr. George

        Several months ago I spoke with you on the telephone about the possibility of teaching me class in the art of acting in your building called The Loft. I am a neighbor of the Casa de Maria and have taken daily walks through your beautiful grounds and appreciate the special spirit of the place which is conducive to learning and growing and healing. Just the kind of atmosphere I'd like for my students in order for them to understand that being an artist in the theatre is a high calling not just a way of becoming rich and famous.

        I come from an experience of 10 years with the New York Shakespeare Festival and I trained with the famed Stella Adler who teachers acting in New York City + Los Angeles. I am writing and directing a feature film this October called Gifted Observers to be filmed entirely in Santa Barbara and featuring Anthony Zerbe who is an Emmy Winner and a resident of Montecito. I am also a close associate of Daphne Rose Kingma who has conducted seminars at the Casa and can recommend me to your committee. Her number is 969-3710, in case you should wish to contact her for a reference.

        I will, of course, abide by any of your wishes regarding the privilege of renting your space 1 night a week, and hope you will find my request worthy of your consideration.

                Sincerely,

                        Suzanne Miller

#joseph cornell #suzanne miller #toledo #no nukes #antinuclear activism

[instawirelessinfo]

MODIFY THE FUTURE OF TRADITIONAL ALARM CLOCKS WITH DOK ALARM CLOCK WITH UNIVERSAL CRADLE

Today, alarm clocks are going through somewhat of a appeal crisis, as confirmed by Dok Alarm Clock with Universal Cradle that intends to be an end table multitasker. In genuine risk of being altogether displaced by cell phones, the alarm clocks has transformed into an all-singing, all-moving savvy show. Go on, attempt to find a battery-fueled Alarm Clock that simply lets you know the time. No projectors, no night lights, no inherent radio, no Bluetooth, no charging ports — simply the time and a caution. Dok Alarm Clock with Universal Cradle has packed however much usefulness as could be expected into its small, right around five-inch by four-inch outline. It needs to be the Swiss Armed force blade of end tables. Expanding on its most memorable emphasis as the littlest savvy show available obviously appropriate for your bedside, the Alarm Clock is as yet a Bluetooth speaker with a touchscreen and the full force of Google Partner on tap to stream all the sound you could need. Obviously, you can likewise get some information about the climate and such, as well as control brilliant home gadgets with your voice.

What's happening is a different dock intended for the clock that brings a night light, a remote charging cushion for your cellphone, and a USB Type-A port for your peripherals. At long last, you can corral all your bedside charging mess in one space and have an extravagant alarm clock (had you been hanging tight for that?). It actually misses the mark on reinforcement battery, so assuming that the power is out, your alert is off. As a matter of fact, no savvy Alarm Clock offers this, which is the reason my significant other unflinchingly will not utilize one. With a couple of provisos (which I'll get to), this is an extraordinary little bedside clock but a minor update from the first. It's the littlest savvy show impression wise, so a solid match for those with jumbled or minuscule end tables. The remote charging and Drove night light are brilliant increases for keeping things clean, in spite of the fact that you'll in any case require a bedside light as the night light isn't so much for perusing. There's no camera in the gadget, and the little speakers give barely sufficient sound quality to some decent sleep time music and to convey your decision of seven different alert tones to stir you in the first part of the day. They sound better compared to a cell phone yet more terrible than a bigger savvy display. As a shrewd presentation, it's less engaging. Practically, this is more Home Small than Home Center point; it's a savvy speaker for certain obvious signals and a restricted touch interface. While I like having the clock to look at, the showcase feels to a great extent squandered, and the connection point depends — as most brilliant presentations do — too vigorously on voice control. For instance, I was unable to switch the night light off with contact, I needed to utilize voice. This is baffling especially in the room, where you're no doubt needing a touch of calm.

The minute display likewise doesn't do a portion of the primary things you anticipate from a brilliant presentation. You can't watch video and, while I question why you would need to on a showcase this little, on the off chance that you won't watch video you don't actually require a presentation this enormous (it's a problem, I know). It will transfer video from Google Home surveillance cameras, which is convenient around evening time assuming that something's going knock outside. Be that as it may, it at present just works with the old Google Home cameras, not the new ones or any outsider cameras. The screen likewise doesn't give you extra visual data when you pose the Associate inquiries, as Home Centers do, however you can pick a Google Photographs collection to pivot as your clock face over the course of the day. The Alarm Clock has a couple of configuration redesigns over the first. There's another variety — texture enveloped blue by expansion to dim or dark (it's all extremely dreary, however; would it have killed Lenovo to toss in a pastel?), and a new, taller structure element to oblige sitting on the new dock. The actual volume all over buttons are still here, just like the quiet switch at the back. The touch-delicate surface between the volume fastens likewise stays to nap or switch the caution off (it requires a huge smack, in any case). The USB Type-A port is gone — moved to the dock — which will frustrate some on the off chance that they simply settle on the clock and not the dock.

The actual clock has an underlying encompassing light sensor that changes the presentation's brilliance, so as not to dazzle you while you're attempting to rest. Yet, it doesn't have the screen innovation that gives the Home Center that non-upsetting matte look. So while it diminished reasonably, it wasn't exactly dim enough for me. The Dawn Caution highlight is likewise somewhat less agreeable than on the Home Center, projecting a crueler pale blue light as it endeavors to tenderly stir rather than the gentler, more orangey gleam of the Home. In the event that you are searching for the littlest, most reasonable method for putting a shrewd screen on your bedside table  In the event that what you truly need is a savvy morning timer with a more modest impression and no diverting presentation, the more modest structure variable of the Dok Alarm Clock with Universal Cradle might be a superior fit. You're not surrendering a lot of on the morning timer front, and you drop your expense. Yet, you don't get that wonderful dock with your clock.

#DOK #DOKAlarmclock #Alarmclock #Digitalalarmclock #instawireless.com

[curlybraces15]

Life after a MA graduation

Tomorrow marks a month since I got my MA degree.

The other day I received the file containing all the photos the photographer took me and my family that day. It's strange because I didn't even open it. I haven't looked not even one of them and I don't feel like to.

Somedays I still think I have to sit myself at the table and convince myself that I have to write something. Though I don't have to anymore. I spent a whole year and a half thinking about this thesis, what to write, how to write it and how to make a good impression. I didn't even think about the result. When my bf asked me if I knew what my vote would have been, I answered: "I don't know, and I don't want to know. I don't want to think about it."

"The process is more important than the result", I told myself.

I spent a whole year and a half preparing for that moment, and in 20 minutes it was over. Like a blink of an eye.

The days before the discussion of my thesis were frentic, the days after that were as if nothing happened. The questions I've been asking myself are still there, there might be some more actually.

Everyone I talk to say that the day of graduation is pivotal in anyone's life, a turning point in one's life. It's the end of a life as a student and the beginning of something else: adulthood, a life of sacrifices, of bills and rent to pay and a job to find.

A job.

When we're young we're always asked "what do you want to do when you grow up?" At that time I used to answer "I want to become a veterinarian!". Back then, a teacher, once she heard this answer told me "Well you need to study a lot, thare's a lot of science and maths". I loved animals, I still do, but maths and science were never a something I was good at.

Then it was time to decide my course of studies at University: I've always loved languages, but also literature, arts, books and culture. I went for languages, but I wanted to study libriarianship. My best friend at that time told me "Studying librarianship won't give you enough money to live, what will you do with that?". We were both 18, I was very considerate of his words. I thought he might have been right. So I started my BA in Languages and Linguistic Mediation: English was my first language and Chinese my second one. My English level was quite high compared to other students; Chinese was my plan-B actually. I've always wanted to study Japanese, but well...

A lot of years, tears, a high school degree, a BA, an MA, and almost 30 years old, I still don't know what I want to do when I grow up.

I know I want to work with books, a lot of them, but as a what? I know I want to use the opportunity I have thanks to my MA studies in Marketing and Communication, but how? I always feel as if I need to study more and more, as if I'm not prepared enough for the working enviroment.

I know that "One never stops learning", but I feel like I can't take even the smallest step. I will work on my education some more time, and I will find a part-time job. I need to manage my own money and not depend on my parents' anymore.

#thoutghts #adulthood #degree #university #studying #random introspection #job #life #student #money #plans #photograpy #rant post #sorry for the rant #random rant #thought

[uswe]

Rewatched Contagion, meant to do data coding while I did it. Did . . . some data coding, but not a ton. No idea how much, because i wasn’t doing it in a linear way. No, that would make sense. But I now have 82 fully coded emails and 542 that have been in some way recorded and, in general, probably one of the more comprehensive datasets of this kind currently going in the world. Now I just need to finish it. And do pivot tables.

#chiomi's a professional disaster #grad school #fucking pivot tables #they're so useful? #actually i don't even know if pivot tables are what I need #i need to do some kind of transformation #for better charts #and recode one particular code #but the codebook is emoji #and a couple people are moderately excited about this?? #and i'll have a really useful timeline