#need moar notebooks

[hislittleraincloud]

✨San Francisco Haul✨

SNS for shit pix (my elderlies were trying to sleep).

I had to go into the city for a doctor's appointment and was too tired to think. All of this 💩 w the Cat Bitch just stressed me out so I got a bunch of stickers and sugar to heal my soul. Yeah, I collect stickers... I'm turning 50 this year too, what of it. 💀 They're scratch n' sniff. Couldn't pass over those. I like my new Pez dispensers...Imma eat out of Marilyn's tits apparently. Kinda wish it was just her head though.

LOVE my new Jairo notebook. 😃 And my little Toki monkey... it's the blind I wanted (on sale at It'Sugar) 🫴🏽🐒🍌💖✨

But Tor, why are you getting a new Jairo notebook if you're almost done with the fic?

...*crawls out from under a heavy tome of Jairo fic, throws a couple pages up in the air and runs...again*

[lexablackbird]

Just started vol. 4 of my Diary last week!

That's over one year and seven months of daily journaling, plus the occasional notes in vol. 0 going back to May of 2017. ᕙ(͡°‿ ͡°)ᕗ

Which means, of course, I'M RUNNING OUT OF STICKERS! Since I add at least one to every entry, there are over 500 in there so far.

[tantumuna]

speaking of The Witcher Games™ i'm playing the new mobile game Monster Slayer so if anyone wanna be friends drop me ur ID :)

[yourcoolfriendwithallthecandy]

Insight and Discernment

So. Day before yesterday, I got to see Dune with Zendaya and Timothe Chalamet, and yes, I INSTANTLY fell in love with it. My ADHD ass went “ooohh, new hyperfocus! Yes!” That’s why my blog instantly had a steady stream of Dune media content. This is my first exposure to the Dune franchise. And I NEEDED MOAR. So to AO3 I went. to find more Paul/Chani content. And then decided I needed to make some too. (chococlate cake theory) Also if you want to go to this story on AO3- here you go. 

And me being, well, me, the lemon flavoried factory that I am. I just had to write a little something something if you know what I mean. DESPITE having one hell of a bad weekend (and it’s only half over!) My inspiration went- “Yeah, I don’t care if your life is a burning dumpster fire, I have A STORY YOU NEED TO WRITE LIKE YOUR LIFE DEPENDS ON  IT, THE MUSE IS HERE BABY, QUICK, BEFORE I VANISH FOREVER HAHAHA.” And I was like...damn you muse, ok ok ok. 

Also in my bit of research, Fremen is based off of Arabic and infact uses A LOT of it directly. And what is the Arabic name for ‘My Beloved’? Muhbubi. Yes, laugh now. To American accented people it sounds like ‘my booby’. But damn it, it’s meant to be sweet and endearing and intimate when until the very end of the movie, he didn’t even KNOW HER NAME. This is supposed to smut with feelings ok? I had to use something. So..Muhbubi was basically it. Is it used in the books or other media for Dune? No clue. Don’t care

Also if you’ve seen the movie, this happens after the second Spice (aka Space Acid) induced Vision, when Paul and his mother are hiding out in a tent in the desert after their family was betrayed and overthrown and Paul is, rightly, freeking out at seeing ‘a war that burns through the universe like fire, a holy war waged in his name’. To the point he uses The Voice on his own mother like a wild animal lashing out in anger and pain and anguish. Which, I’ll be honest, hurt like hell. It was very well done. However he was cool calm and collected in the morning. So that is where I am taking my artistic liberty and inserting this dream sequence between him falling asleep in the tent in the desert with his mom and waking up the next morning and coming to terms and understanding and making sense of what he was shown in said visions. 

Enjoy. 

Insight and Discernment 

Paul was used to prophetic dreams, having had them for most of his life, it was something he thought he was used to. Visions however, were new thanks to exposure of Spice. Seeing multiple possibilities for the future and learning and gleaning knowledge from said multiple possibilities of the future was something, that thanks to the enhancing properties of Spice was not only useful but poignant, but when all those possible futures had to be closed off, cut off, because of other’s people’s choices and having to react to their reactions, there was a sadness at the loss of the possibilities. Of what could have been but couldn’t be. 

But dreams, enhanced with Spice, if his dreams had always felt real before, now they were just as vivid as real life, if not more so. Touch, taste, scent, sight, sound, all of his senses were enhanced now, the visions, the dreams, they were starting to blur into one and the same thing now. 

Before the exposure to Spice, she had always been helpful, kind, sweet even, allusive, flirtatious in a way that hinted at intimacy but never close enough to be so, he could hear her voice and knew it as well as his own, or his mother’s. A close friend and companion that his entire being told him that she was his destiny, his everything, but one that he didn’t know the name of yet, but a face he could sculpt from clay with his eyes closed, or draw in a notebook from seeing it countless times, from caressing and holding it countless times too. Those blue in blue eyes that hypnotized him every time he saw them, a smile that beckoned him, intrigued him, motivated him to do whatever it would take to see just one more time. A body that was still so hidden by loose, billowy garments that only made her more ethereal, a form whose outlines were blurred by sands and dust and stark sunlight, but her skin, soft in places that weren’t exposed to the ever blowing and downright corrosive sands, but on her face, where skin should be softest, was rough, rough from the sand blasting it, rough from tears collecting dust, grit and sand as she cried over the fate and oppression of her people. The skin under her eyes, puffy from lack of sleep and having to constantly be on the move, but even still, to have lips softer than the pillows he usually slept on and a taste he found impossible to describe or even have a point of reference for- usually had him eager to go to bed, eager to see her again, be with her again. See her smile again, feel her touch and hear her voice and smell her scent again. See a world that was foreign but was becoming more and more familiar to him. 

That’s why the vision at the first exposure of spice- of his beloved- stabbing him, didn’t make any sense. She had never shown any aggression towards him before. Finally getting so close to the edge of intimacy only to be betrayed, to be stabbed in an embrace, one he had thought would have been out of fondness, affection, dare he hope- love? It’s why it hurt so bad and why he was left, powerless, barely upright on his knees as if the air had been pulled right out of his lungs and power from his legs. Because what could a giant sandworm do to him that would hurt worse than her betrayal?

But after the second vision, the one where he saw a war burning through the universe like a fire, a war waged in his name. Which at the time terrified him- but to see her, his beloved, at his side through all of it, despite the horror of the violence, her presence brought him peace, confidence and comfort.  

But what comforted him the most, almost as much as his mother- as his mother had tried to do when he was awake only moments before- when he was alone with her, hiding in a tent in the ever rising sand, reeling from the sudden and tragic catastrophes- was the simple fact that once he fell asleep, he was finding himself awake in a new dream, and being with his beloved, it was her- his nameless, but almost all too familiar companion, his head in her lap, a tent, similar to the one he had fallen asleep in this night, but now the tent itself was slightly different but it surrounded the pair like a protective cocoon, as he was laying on a rather uncomfortable bedroll in the sand, but the discomfort was only because it was not the same soft mattresses he was used to sleeping on before. 

But her presence more than made up for the stark contrast, he could be lying on a hard rock with his head in her lap and be infinitely more comfortable there, than in all the fancy mattresses and beds he had grown up sleeping on- but sleeping in them alone, because what could the comforting, wonderful presence of his beloved compare to a bed? A bed was just a bed, but the more he dreamed of her, envisioned her, she was becoming synonymous with the sense of the term home- than any actual place. As if wherever she was- was where he was meant to be, and where he belonged. 

The sound of winds whipping the sides and sand flying through the air outside was a soft roar he was trying to tell his brain to put into the background as his ears and concentration focused his ears to strain to hear for her- hear for her breathing, hear for her voice, her wonderful, soothing voice that his heart yearned for his ears to hear more of.  

The space was small yet not at all constrictive or claustrophobic. In fact it was cozy, comforting, intimate even. A scent, spicy, almost like cinnamon, almost peppery, maybe a little sweet even. Again something he only knew in these prophetic dreams but nothing he had ever experienced in the waking world before coming to Arrakas, and coming into contact with Spice first hand. All the dreams had given him a small sample of it’s scent, it’s taste, like smelling the perfume from someone passing you on a walkway, only getting a hint, a passing inhale then gone just as quickly as it appeared and only lingered in your nose and memory but gone with the next inhale and exhale. Before though, Spice had come with consequences, visions. But now, it only acted to enhance the atmosphere, like incense, it was pleasant actually, as it seemed to dance in both his nostrils and on his tongue. But he could clearly differentiate between the scent of theSpice, the scent of the atmosphere, and the scent of her, his beloved. Again, a scent, his heart yearned to smell in the waking world until he actually did and once he had a name for it and point of referance it was one that was both forign yet all too familiar.  

But here, he had taken up a familiar stance that he had walked in on seeing his parents take up, when his father’s head would be in his mother’s lap as she would gently stroke his head and comb her fingers through his unruly hair and gently scratching his scalp, an intimate, comforting, familial moment. One that showed how close and comfortable his parents were with each other. 

Now his beloved was doing the same to him. Her fingers were rougher than her mother’s ever were but that was because her mother was a priestess and a highborn lady, a concubine of a Duke who never knew hard, manual labor, where as his beloved’s hands had known nothing but. Her fingernails -much shorter than his mother ever kept hers for the same reasons. But he wouldn’t have his companion’s features changed for anything. He liked them and preferred them because they were her features, which made her unique and made her, her. 

“You stabbed me.” He found himself accusing her in a soft, petulant whisper as she frowned and tilted her head and raised a quizzical if not disbelieving brow at his accusation.  

“I did? When?” She asked, her voice soft, soothing but still alight with amusement. 

“I don’t see any stab wounds.” She noted as she gave the rest of his rather bare body laid out before her as he looked down and indeed did not see any sign of a stab wound. 

“I...I had a vision, you went to kiss me and instead you stabbed me.” Paul tried to recall. 

“Ah I see,” she nodded in understanding. 

“I had a vision you betrayed me,” he repeated with a pout. 

“By stabbing you, pretending to kiss you and stabbing you instead.” She repeated for clarification. 

“Yeah.” He nodded. 

“I thought not all your dreams came true?” She questioned. 

“They don’t. At least, not like I dream of them or not at all, they are...premonitions.” He clarified. 

“And your visions? Have they come true just like you vision them?” She questioned. 

“I...I’ve only had...not that many. I don’t know.” He frowned. 

“Hmm, is this one of them?” She asked, tilting her head in the opposite direction to change her point of view of him. 

“I...I don’t know.” He confessed. 

“Well, there were days when your arrogance and your entitlement, your whining and complaining- irritated me to the point that it did make me want to stab you.” She confessed with a sigh and her voice hitching higher as she fought back a gigle but an amused grin and playful delight danced in her eyes all the same. 

“However, that was only in the beginning, I like to think you’ve grown up and out of those habits and have matured past that.” She reminded him. 

“When I first saw you, you were an outworlder, a boy in a foreign, and hostile place. You had already been betrayed by the people you never thought would, so you were especially suspicious of everyone. And I think your vision then was trying to warn you that the people that you think or thought rather, that you could trust implicitly were going to betray you, but they simply used my face, because it was my face you were the most familiar with and trusting of- in your dreams. Because as I have told you before and I will tell you again and I will continue to repeat it until there is no doubt in your mind, heart and soul, that I will never betray you, either in faith, confidence or any other way you can imagine. You have my heart, mind and soul just as much as I have yours. Why would I hurt the one person that I want to protect above all else? And the one person who I know in every drop of water in my being and theirs, feels the same way about me?” She questioned him in all seriousness, her previous amusement gone, replaced with a gravatas in only a heart beat of time. 

“You’re right,” he conceded, feeling peace that that particular vision had come true in a prophetic way, but not in the literal way of how he had seen it or envisioned it and she made sense. She was perfectly logical and reasonable in her explanation of his vision. And he appreciated her clear insight and discernment into such matters because of how objective her point of view could be.  

“I always am.” She softly giggled with a bright smile, coming from those blue in blue eyes, the weight of seriousness lifting in a flash and the freeness and ease returning to the air around them. 

“You are.” He readily agreed as he reached up to palm her cheek, smiling when she leaned into his touch as he did the same, letting their shared touch ground each other before she moved to lay next to him but grabbed both of his hands with her own. 

“See? No crysknife. No harm, only pleasure.” She insisted as she looked from their intertwined hands between them then craned her neck to bring her face within kissing distance of his as he eagerly met her kiss and kissed her. Really kissed her, kissed her with all of the pent up passion and adoration, appreciation, reverence and desire he had for her as he was the first to break his hand’s union with hers in favor of wrapping his arm around her tight as the other hand held her head, his fingers threading through the hair on the back of her head to keep her face next to his as his body was now flush with hers he could feel the heat of her body as much as he could sense the desire her body had for his, which was only eclipsed by his body’s need for hers as the kiss deepened. To taste her, his beloved, was a wonder of the universe. It was both too much yet not nearly enough. He wanted more, needed more. More of everything, to see her, to hear her, to feel her, to taste her, to smell her, To be drowning in her. To be perfectly overwhelmed by her. His beloved. 

Side by side, her leg hiked up over his hip, their little pieces of clothes that had been worn earlier now vanished as his arm that had been wrapped around her to keep her close, was now greedily exploring, claiming and possessive in his sense of touch. She was his and he was hers. Two became one and the universe for being so big and so expansive, was now shrinking down to the confines of this tent because nothing outside of this private, personal, comfortable, intimate space mattered and didn’t seem to exist in this moment. 

“Mahbubi,” his beloved keened when he rolled over her and thrusted his hardened member into her core, her essence in anticipation for him, making it a smooth glide as the feeling of being filled helped her feel whole, complete, with him. 

“Mahbubi.” He mirrored in a coo in turn, his voice soft, velvety deep and sultry and it made a shiver go down her spine. It was a word that meant ‘my beloved’ to her, in her native tongue. And one that they often used for each other, to each other. Like how one would say ‘Honey’, ‘Dearest’, ‘My Love’, an affectionate term of endearment. This- ‘mahbubi’ was theirs, when names were not known so could not be used, but often didn’t need to be used either. 

Her arms were wrapped around his shoulders now, even though he was always on the lean side, the strength and stamina in his body was usually always underestimated because of the lack of bulk in his muscle but that did not make him any less strong, or quick or powerful. His smaller frame was actually a blessing. Because he did not dwarf her. His body never intimidated her. But rather, she felt as an equal in his presence, if not more precious, because he thought her so. He knew she was strong and powerful in ways he would come to fully understand one day and wanted to imitate. But who she was to him- his precious beloved, his. It was a powerful idea and notion and one that she yearned for as well. To be seen by him- as herself, cared for, by him- as herself, loved, by him- for herself. It was all she wanted and all she wanted him to and know was mirrored and returned by her in every drop of water in his being. 

His arms reached under her, his forearms under her shoulder blades, his elbows planted on either side of her ribs, his hands curling to the soft appearance of her equally underestimated strength she carried in her shoulders, with weight that she carried in them that he was just now only starting to grasp, a burden he would share and make lighter for her as she would do the same for him. 

Her legs, lean but powerfully strong, had parted to make room for his body to be in the cradle of her own body, a place she wanted him to find comfort, love, appreciation, solace. Then she had planted her heels into the bed, right behind his legs, just above his knees but on his lower thighs, that were planted into the bedroll itself to gain traction and footing, to keep his body close, but also to allow his lower body the freedom of movement to power stroke after stroke into her, her smaller, humble breasts were pushed against his chest as his it rocked against hers, her skin starting to perspire precious beads of sweat, making it so his skin ever so deliciously glided against hers, his weight a comforting and grounding force on her. His kisses to her mouth, her cheeks, her jaw, her neck, her shoulder, her chest, each one precious, powerful, meaningful. His tongue tasting those precious beads of moisture, appreciating and carving it’s taste into his brain as her taste, added to the taste of her mouth. Precious, delectable flavors he hungered for as she did the same to him, biting his earlobe as her hands made fists into his curly, unruly hair to keep his head right where it was just as he was using his elbows to lift himself off of her by a few precious centimeters just to lower himself down to suckle at her breasts, the sensation striking her own prophetic notion of their children latching on and feeding her nourishing milk that she would make for them someday in the near yet distant future. 

But now, the sensation only brought her pleasure as her back arched off the bed to push her breasts into his mouth that much more as he went from one to the other so that neither felt neglected as he left a wet trail of his saliva on his mouth’s journey on her body before he removed one hand from her shoulder to lick at his dry fingers and put his fingers between them, in the midst of the protective tuft of hair to keep her sex safe and protected and to keep any moisture from escaping such sensitive and delicate tissue, to find her clit, her nub, to circle it, press it softly at first, his touch growing in firmness until her body answered with how much pressure his touch needed to please her best- as her body wrythed beneath him when he found the right pressure, the right speed, the right spot to work his fingers because he was dangerously close to finishing and the shame of being so selfish as to find his ecstasy without or before she found hers was too great a burden for him to bear, his father had imparted such knowledge many times before for him to not know how to pleasure the one person who mattered the most to you. 

“Mahbubi” he grunted, almost growling and snarling in a possessive, powerful yet needy tone in her ear as he continued his ministrations on her as her voice was helpless to do anything but moan and keen in return, the pitch and volume betraying how much pleasure he was giving her and how oh so close she was, just a little more, just a little longer, he could hold back his own pleasure, only to ensure her own. 

“Mahbubi!” She cried as her hands almost became clawed at his back as her whole body began to tense and she arched her back again and canted her hips to feel the friction and angle of him inside of her that much more keenly before she reached her peak, a sharp gasp, a keening cry of release as her legs suddenly clamped tightly around his waist as her hips ground into his and his fingers and prolonging her orgasmic release that much more intensely and longlasting and just as her body was starting to relax as she was riding the slow decent of the back of the wave of her orgasm did he pull his hand away to place his hands on either side of her head to really give himself the traction and support his body needed to power into her almost animalistic strokes as her essence made her canal especially slippery and within a few short minutes with his faster, harder strokes did he finish himself, pumping her full of his seed which he would be reserving for her, only her. His beloved, his Mahbubi as he pressed his hips into hers as hard as he could, delivering his precious seed as deep into her womb as he could. Knowing one day, eventually that seed would take root before he collapsed onto her. Letting his body relax fully onto her, feeling her still being able to breathe easily under him as she held him close, cheek to cheek as they both tried to catch their breath again before she rather absentmindedly started to gently run her rough fingertips over his back, the feeling soothing him further as the soft stroking turned to scratching, with what little tips of fingernails she had, which his body happily welcomed. 

“That feels wonderful, thank you.” He thanked her appreciatively as he reached up and still held his cheek to hers but held the other side of her face with his hand before softly stroking the rough apples of her cheeks with his thumbs before petting her head and hair, in an equally comforting, soft, gentle, comforting and nurturing touch. 

“Thank you.” She mirrored with a pleased murmur as she stopped her scratching to hug him tightly for a moment before his softening and shrinking member broke the seal it had created between the head of his cock and her womb before he rolled off of her but went to lay down beside her, facing her as she rolled with him, keeping face to face before she scooted down, her head turning upwards so that her ear was pressed to his chest, his heartbeat, while still faster and harder from his exertion gradually slowed as a soft blanket that had been laying on the edge of their bed roll was unrolled to cover the lovers to keep out the chill of the night was starting to come in. 

“Rest Mahbubi.” She urged him as sleep beckoned her mind and body. 

“The best rest is in your arms Mahbubi.” He answered her with a fond but sleepy grin as he let his arm be her pillow and wrapped the other around her possessively as she had curled the arm of the side she was laying on to rest under her breast but the other was wrapped with equal possessiveness around him. 

Because in these moments, he didn’t belong to any prophecy or any grand design or to anyone or anything outside of this tent, he only belonged to her. Wholly and completely, unquestioningly and faithfully. In mind, body and spirit.

[eggbunni]

a peek at some favorites from my brass wax stamp seal collection. i am obsessed with ultra-mini seals! the tinier the better. they’re just so cute and require so little wax, and yet they add so much character and dimension to my stationery. 🥺✨ i need MOAR. 😂 i also don’t use my wax seals the traditional way (using them to actually seal things, lol). i use them purely for aesthetic decoration on letters and envelopes or journal spreads! i just love the way they feel. running my fingers over them, the tactile shape 🥹 — stationery junkies know what i’m talking about! ♥️ the dried roses in this post, btw, are a gift from my sister in law! 🥰 journal: @hobonichi1101 . . 🏷 #hobonichi #tomoeriverpaper #trp #fountainpenink #penmanship #fountainpens #handwriting #inkswatches #fountainpen #tomoeriverpaper52gsm #trp52 #journal #notebook #journals #notebooks #journaling #waxseals #waxseal #brassstamp #vintageaccessories #vintage #washi #midoricover #midorileathercover #leathercover https://www.instagram.com/p/CbNARXpr1eS/?utm_medium=tumblr

[nextstopwonderland]

Masterlist of Mixes Part Two: General

The original post of my masterlist grew too long, so I had to break it up. 

Part One (Fandom Mixes) here

General Mixes (by genre/era/theme)

60s 

·        drive-ins on friday night - 60s girl groups 

·        “Well how does he dance?” Close... very very close” - more 60s girl groups

·        Paris, Sex, and the Pepsi Generation - yeye girls mix 

·        I’m the one for you - even MOAR 60s girl groups, but more obscure 

·        how to treat ‘em - a collection of 60s/70s girl rock bands Garage/surf/psych 

·       come and gone before - 60s and 70s chill vibes 

·        slow down, you move too fast - groovy 60s tunes 

·        somethin’ groovy and good (’bout whatever we got) - 60s folk-esque tunes by ladies 

70s

·        some misplaced Joan of Arc - more ladies 

·        friday night & the lights are low: a 70s disco mix

         “Are you a mod or a rocker?”

80s

·        women at work: ladies and 80s

·        some time off from this emotion

·        get ur synth on 

90s

·        my so-called life: the junior high years: 1992-1996

·        my so-called life: the high school years: 1996-2000

·        Seethe and Burn - grunge mix 

·        the stuff that you want - early 90s favs 

·        moar random 90s

00s 

·        Let’s get these teen hearts beating faster

Indie/Synth ladies 

·        we wrote our names along the bathroom walls - synth ladies volume I

·        might as well write all over my notebook - volume II 

·        i’m calling your bluff: an indie ladies sampler 

·        the harder i swim the faster i sink: indie ladies sampler volume 2

·         

Piano 

·        Piano in Rock-n-Pop Vol I: 1957-1979

·        Piano in Rock-n-Pop Vol II: 1980-1999

·        Piano in Rock-n-Pop Vol III: 2000-2015

Brit-pop 

·        Brit-Pop Boyz

·        Brit-Pop Boyz Unplugged 

·        never been an extrovert

Weather/Seasonal 

·        And the snow lay round 

·        The Texture of the Rain 

·        The sky won’t fall forever

·        It’s Comin’ on Christmas 

·        Walk the Dead

·        No One’s Gonna Take My Soul Away

·        of forests and fallen leaves - a relaxing instrumental playlist with a touch of autumn adventure 

  Merry Christmas (I could care less) - christmas music for people who don’t like christmas 

It was summer when i saw your face - a chronological huge summer mix 

except for the polaroid's i left - SynthwaveSummer

the bitter winds are coming in - chilly autumn mornings

Movie/Movie Aesthetic

·        Poppy, Peppy, and Ladies 

·        24 x per second

·        A Mostly thing called love - this one needs a lot of work & i’ll probably end up deleting it tbh

·        Love on the Run 

Favorites

·        Top 10 Favorite Songs

·        Favorite Storytelling Songs

·        What are you doin’ sunday, baby - effortlessly mood lifting songs

General Zen/Escapism 

·        Escapism 

·        Motorways & Tramlines 

·        uplifting instrumental 

         scenic drives 

Misc & Requests 

·        this glasshouse is burning down - burning bridges songs

·        [you are my center when i spin away] - curtainfic songs

·        xxxDirtyPopxxx - ladies singing about sex 

·        Tub Tunes - zen songs for the bathtub 

·        they caught us at the state line - nighttime driving 

·        i’m in love with ideas of love - teen coming of age with FEELINGS

·        Gotta die to feel alive - hannibal-esque creepy horror

·        such a sad affair - loneliness and you wanna cry songs

·        Side A: goodbye’s too good a word - “break up make up”, the breakup part

·        Side B: back to these two hearts - “break up make up” the (eventual) makeup 

·        it’s you they love to hold - “chilly mornings and warm hands” 

·        you left some stars in my belly - lofi dudes mix 

·        Neon Nostalgia - a “sounds like the 80s” mix 

·        The End is Nigh - songs featured in “Now Apocalypse” 

·        RIP Ennio 

those formative years: a ladies of various eras mix

 a song outside my window - a walk in the early morning 

Bottled moments - that mood when you're at an outdoor concert with your friends waiting for the show to start and the weather is perfect and everything is beautiful

Need you like water in my lungs - drowning themed mix for @youshallnotfinditso

in your cinematic love truck - driving in the rain 

[floweryomi]

Um this is a lot of fun

[talkplaylove]

syncxpate asked “fanfic writer asks: 1, 28, 50.”

1) How old were you when you first starting writing fanfiction? About ten or eleven years old? My friend and I would pass a red notebook with Tweety on the cover back-and-forth during class. We were writing Card Captor Sakura fanfiction in it =)) I posted my first fic on FF.Net at around fifth/sixth grade as well. I started writing and posting again at around eighteen or nineteen, this time on LJ. Then I stopped fandom in general at 24 for real life matters, and here I am again 8D

28) What is something you wished you’d known before you started posting fanfiction?

Around 5th grade onwards, I used to spend my weekends and one summer vacation in front of our clunky desktop, on dial-up connection, using prepaid Internet cards that I bought with my allowance savings, going through the fic pages for my fandom/s and reading the fics for my fave pairings. My 11/12 year old heart celebrated and broke simultaneously when I hit the last page of Slam Dunk fics and I realized I had read all the Sakuragi/Rukawa fics already. 

When I finished writing my first fic at age 11/12, I posted it because I thought that there will be at least one other fan-person in the world who was in the same plight as me: aka MOAR FIC IS ALWAYS GOOD, MUST! READ! MORE!  Also because I was 11/12, my understanding was basically: “isn’t that what you do? you write the fic and post the fic” :))

So honestly, in regards to posting fic, there's nothing that I wish I'd known beforehand because my reasons for posting fic online--more than a decade and half later--hasn’t changed. I started writing fic primarily for myself--because I either can't get an idea out of my head, and it consumes me, I daydream about it, I think about it all the time (me, at eleven) or because I need to work on something bothering me emotionally (me, at eighteen)--and the only way I know how to release either of those is by writing. As I grew older and continued writing fic, I also started trying to challenge myself by writing outside of my comfort zone (ie  20k Big Bang fic, action-oriented fic, etc). But I post online because I think there will always be one person who wants to read something (regardless of any factor like author or fic premise or genre) about their favorite pairing/fandom. I don’t think my reason for posting will ever change. 

50) If you could write only angst, fluff or smut for the rest of your writing life, which would it be and why?

Angst. I would read fluff for the rest of my life, but I am one of those people who work through emotional upheavals in real life by writing, so, angst it is. ;_;

Thanks for asking! <3

[hogwartstarot]

Transfiguration Class: Meditation

So, yeah, I used the Hogwarts Class Spread to delve a little bit into the topic of meditation. I wanted to know how to improve this practice for me, I wanted to learn useful tips and tidbits of information about it, and I wanted to reframe this practice as one that has the potential to reaffirm my life experience. 

Since I wanted to change my mindstate, then a Transfiguration Class was in order.

What I found out was interesting and I wanted to create this little post before continuing with MOAR SPREADS!!1! so I could let you have a peek inside my notebook and copy the info, a la Hermione Granger.

The Theory: Nine of Pentacles. This came as a bit of a pleasant surprise because the Tarot showed me that, indeed, what makes a Meditation Practice worthwhile is because it lets you see all around you in happiness and contentment, leaving you feeling more at ease and at peace, quite satisfied with the good things in your life. This made for a very nice foundation for what was to come in the following positions. Meditation is, first and foremost, a wonderful practice to alter your mindstate. If one´s mindstate is one of always feeling miserabe and being at odds with everything around us, enhancing the horribleness and the suffering and the lack of good as a result, then meditation allows for a progressive liberation of this, taking us right into the place this card stands for: peace, contentment, and with an eye for the things that deserve our gratitude and appreciation. 

The Teaching: The Moon. Immediately I could tell, just upon seeing this card, that the most important element regarding the practice of meditation was to let the subconscious mind have more room to breathe. Indeed, there is a wealth of untapped potential inside the subconscious. For us to put theory into practice, it is imperative to know that when we are engaing in a meditative state is for the sake of our subconscious. Of course, from our mind a lot of illusions will arise (thoughts and feelings) but they are not to be feared, only released. So, as opposed to the Sun´s blinding light representing the conscious, the Moon is more like letting the subconscious have enough presence by letting go of our conscious thoughts and focusing upon our breath, for example. Quite your mind is one way to put it. But the subtle difference between Quiting the Mind and Meditation is the releasing of conscious thought in a way that allows the thought to rise and us letting it go on its own by focusing on our breath again. Release the Conscious, unlock the Subconscious.  I use breath for anchoring myself, you can achieve Meditation by focusing on other things.

Good Methodology: The World. Proper technique is being at one with the world, being at peace. To do that, you have to let things be as they are, accept them as they are, and even stop trying to make things happen. Indeed, one cannot achieve what the Nine of Pentacles showed in position number one if one is always on the defensive. So to be good at meditation, one must be good at being vulnerable and acepting, the road which leads into Oneness eventually. People might try meditation for different things, all of which are valid, and many of those things will show themselves. But ultimately, there just make for pretty sightseeing, the goal is Oneness. Meditation is always going to be done correctly if this is your objective, no matter what.  

Not Found in Books: The Tower. This was a surprise and it sort of scared me at first until I gave it more thought. You see, this position in the spread talks about “Out-of-the-box” thinking. And upon seeing the Tower in a more contemplative way I learned that this was exactly just that: When the majority of people engage in meditation, they do so for the peacefulness factor promised everywhere, but what happens is, by letting our subconscious more room to breathe and being vulnerable and accepting, we are setting ourselves to let spirit in and destroy all of our shaky beliefs and false premises! Think about it: you cannot hold old thought-patterns that are antithetical of Gratitude, Appreciation, Love, Peace, Happiness, Joy, Contenment and Accepting. And whereas I know I have known about this from reading it somewhere years ago, it is refreshing to have it spelled-out for me one more time because, as this is a very scary and intimidating prospective, is no wonder many left it out of any meditation guide you could find on the net. 

The caveats: The Queen of Cups. What surprised me the most is that, in a way, Meditation doesn´t have many drawbacks, but they are certainly some side-effects. These side-effects are good! But they obviously come with their own set of... difficulties. The Queen of Cups is the card of the one that is caring for everyone all the time, a beacon of light. The potential drawback is that you coudl, potentially, lose sight of yourself. Sort of what happens to empaths. Also, bear in mind that not doing something after meditation to ground yourself can risk you losing sight of You, making you sort of a being melting with all around you and generating all kinds of psychic phenomena that may or may not be good for you depending on how prepared you are to deal with them. Meditation does this, is natural, but is supposed to be a gradual process! So for the time being, at least until you are prepared, you must ground yourself after every meditation session. 

The Questions: The Ten of Cups Reveresed and the Ace of Pentacles Reversed. I moved the card I layed in the sixth postion to the first postion, to ask for more clarity about what makes Meditation such a powerful practice. When I flipped the card I found the Ten of Cups Reversed, and what it meant in the context of the Nine of Pentacles is that “one is bound to find contentment, IN SPITE of everything, even in spite of sadness and strife”. Doing so can change the Ten of Cups Reversed to its upright position. How I arrived at that conclusion? I don´t know, but my intuition told me as much. On the other hand, I drew one more card and placed it in the third position, regarding Proper Methodology. When I flipped the card I got my answer: To achieve the state of Oneness, you must leave out greed and the ego. Plain to see!

Homework: The King of Wands Reversed. This was a strange card to appear in this moment. Nevertheless I knew it was a fair clue as to what extra literature to read before attempting meditation. Upon reflecting on the card I realized it had to do with Expectations. You see, the King of Wands Reversed sort of symbolizes one of the negative aspects of the Element of Fire, that of trying to consume everything in its path. This I felt equaled Expecting Everything, trying to get everything. So I searched the web and I found out that, indeed, Expectations are the natural enemy of Meditation. Unfiltered Expectation is the Mother of grief and suffering and those things that prevent us from experiencing joy. Life just sort of puts us in a place of expecting and wanting. This in and of itself is not wrong. What is wrong is that too much of this makes us suffer, especially when having very unrealistic expectations that are not fulfilled. Even when engaging meditation, maybe we are expecting a LOT to happen, and that impedes Meditation to actualy DO something for us. So if Unfiltered Expectations create all the things that are in direct opposition to Peace, Acceptace, Joy, Contentment, Appreciation, then Unfiltered Expectations are the direct opposite of Oneness. The Oneness does not Need nor Expects things, for the Oneness has it all already! This puts a nice emphasis on the Ace of Pentacles Reversed I got, and reinforces the teachings and insights generated from the previous cards as well. Meditation is not a chore, Meditation is just Being and stop resistance to Accepting the All. To Accept the All we must stop expecting IT being something. To Accept the All, we must Let it Be.

So.. this was interesting and fun. Let me know what you think. As for me, I am off to meditate some with an open mind. 

Cheers! 

[brandon-seifert-comics-writer]

Writing Comics: The Brandon Seifert Way!

Hey folks! So, some comics writers have been posting about their script writing processes. I've been finding it an interesting look into other peoples' creative processes. So I figured I'd join in!

Laying out my creative process serves a second purpose, too. I have a tendency to... well... forget how to write scripts. It happens every so often. I'll get partway through the process of writing a script, run into trouble... and then realize that I've blanked on the Best Practices For Brandon Seifert Scripts that I've learned through trial and error. So having a written breakdown of the best method I've found for me to write my scripts will be useful for me too. So I can go back and reference it sometimes, and make sure I'm actually following it.

Okay. So, this is the most effective way I've found for the kind of scripts I write, and for the kind of brain I have.

1. Come up with a story idea. For me, this is the easy part. My brain is overflowing with ideas. (Oh god. So many ideas. Somebody make them slow down!!)

2. Brainstorm the living shit out of it. Once I've got the story idea, I unload my brain on the page about it. I write down potential plot points, ideas, questions to answer, things I might research relating to it. Pieces of dialogue. Sequences of panels. Entire pages, or sometimes entire scenes, that appear in my head without me having to work them through. Anything and everything I can come up with based on an idea, I write down. Plenty of this won't make it into the finished comic. But I write it all down anyway.

3. Make outlines. Make too many outlines. Once the ideas aren't coming quite as frantically, I take the plot points I ended up with, organize them, throw out the ones that don't seem to fit, and see what I have. From there, I build an outline. Or rather, I build several outlines.

My first outline is the one with the plot points that I brainstormed. It's a list of sentences, paragraphs and sentence fragments, arranged in the order that I think they'll occur in. (I do my writing in Scrivener, and all these pieces are individual text files. That way I can easily drag and drop them into different orders, delete some of them, and add new ones.) I flesh this out, adding more plot points until the story starts taking shape.

Meanwhile, I'm also writing outlines in my notebook. (Writing things out longhand is very important for my creative process. I find that writing something on paper, with a pen, frees up my brain a little. Since my final drafts are never written in pen ink, anything I write on a page automatically becomes a rough draft. So there's zero need to get it "right" the first time. Next time you're in the middle of a story and you have writer's block, I totally recommend trying it!) There's a couple different plot structures I find it useful to play with. One is Blake Snyder's "Save The Cat!" formula (which is VERY formulaic but can be a useful starting point). Another is Nigel Watts' Eight Point Plot structure. I often use one or both of these as a starting point. Basically as a writing exercise. I see if my plot points fit into these structures. If they don't, I see how they COULD fit... and then I either make changes based on that, or I don't. Anyway, this stuff goes in my notebook rather than on my laptop. (I don’t know why I do it that way. I just do.)

Think I'm done outlining? Think again! Next, I usually do a prose version of the outline I've decided on. I write out what I think happens in the story — the broad strokes, at least — in simple-but-complete sentences and paragraphs. Once the prose version reaches about a page long, I generally have enough material to start actually writing the issue.

...So then I start the issue. Right? NOPE! MOAR OUTLINES!

Well, one last outline. My last one is a page breakdown. It's a Google Doc with lines numbered 1-20. Each line represents a page of story in the final comic. I write in a really brief summary of what happens on each page. Usually starting with the page-turns. (I think of comics mostly in terms of two-page "units," a page-turn and a facing-page.) I take the material I've produced in my already-too-many outlines and plug it in here.

4. Place my brainstormed writing-bits in a script template. In Scrivener, I have a 20-page script template full of placeholders for panels and dialogue. Page-turns have three panels in the template because page-turns often have big reveal panels and lower overall panel counts. Facing pages have five panels. Each panel has a dialogue placeholder in it. (My scripts don't exclusively have three panels on page-turns and five on facing pages! It's just a good reminder for me that I'll likely need around that many panels or more on that page.)

Remember all that brainstorming I did? Which involved "pieces of dialogue," "sequences of panels," "entire pages," and "sometimes entire scenes?" Now I take that stuff and begin dropping it into the script template in the approximate place that I think it'll go. When I'm done with that, I've got a script template that's partially populated by actual script! That way, I never actually have a "blank page" in front of me when it comes time to do the actual scripting. There's always something in there!

5. Expand what I’ve got. That reveal panel, that I wrote for the page-turn on Page 4? Well, there's got to be set-up for it in the last panel of Page 3. So I make a note of that in the placeholder panel that's already there. Got three panels for Page 11, and then a beat I need to figure before I set-up the reveal on Page 12? Time to figure out that beat! Basically, the rest of my scripting process involves filling in those partially-populated pages, and then filling in the gaps between those pages.

There's two main ways that I write pages: Action-first, or dialogue-first.

Action-First: I figure out what happens (action-wise) in each panel in a sequence. And then I figure out exactly what the characters are saying.

Dialogue-First: I write out all the dialogue that a dialogue-based scene may involve. Then I cut it up where it’s easily cut, condense it, stick it in placeholder panels. And then figure out who’s in each panel, and what they’re doing.

Of the two, “Action-First” is much easier for me to do... with action-based scenes. It’s usually impossible for me to do for dialogue-oriented scenes... but for some reason I always forget the method of Dialogue-First when I initially attempt scenes like that!

6. Write the pages in whatever order works for me — starting with the easy pages. I do this because they’re easy, so I might as well get them out of the way! My finished-page count quickly soars. Man, this is easy! I’m on top of the world!

7. ...Realize that I left the hard pages for last. The further I get into the script, the harder things get. The slower things get. The more demoralized I get. I did it again. I saved the hard pages for last. I did the easy pages, and they went fast, and I got an unrealistic idea of how long the script would take. Deadlines loom.

8. Write the hard pages anyway. Oh. That wasn’t so bad.

9. Revise and polish the whole thing.

10. Send it in, with a feeling of relief and accomplishment.

After this, theres stuff like getting notes and doing additional drafts based on them (and based on any weaknesses that I manage to identify after the fact). But this is how the primary phase of my scripting process goes.

The important thing here is: This is what I’ve found works for me. You need to find what works for you. Maybe it’s something like my method. Maybe it’s wildly, massively different. The thing about writing is, everybody’s process is different. And:

The only “right” way to write is: Whatever way works. 

[raindrop-rouge]

Uhuuuu I got tagged to answer moar questions by my one and only, @chiruchill <3

1. Who’s your favourite Mario Kart character?

.... I... I... Ok like everyone is gonna come after my life for this and that’s understandable, but I enjoy playing as Peach ok, fine fine hang me that’s cool ;__;

2. What’s your favourite Pokémon?

I have two faves I can’t choose!!! Ponyta was my favorite growing up, now I adore Vulpix <3 they’re so cute

3. Do you have a bad habit?

Coming on tumblr lmao, uh other than that I think I don’t do much that’s directly harmful to me or wastes time... Oh no wait, I tend to grumble too much when I’m asked to do things. Like, I will do the thing, I fully intend to anyway, so why do I bother complaining? That must be the French in me lmao

4. What’s your favourite language (you don’t have to be able to speak it)?

Japanese ^^ Which is why I chose to study it at uni. Though there are so many languages I’ve yet to hear out there *___* And I really love English too tbh? I’ll revert to it to speak about how I feel personally, a lot. 

5. Why is it always 11 questions? 10 makes more sense?

BECAUSE THIS IS TUMBLR, LAND OF TEENAGE EDGELORDS, AND THEREFORE ANYTHING THAT MAKES SENSE MUST BE A V O I D E D

6. Do you prefer writing in notebooks or on the computer?

I get so much more down on notebooks, both when taking notes in class, or when throwing down ideas for a fic. BUT!!! Papers get everywhere, then you gotta store em somewhere, also it hurts the environment, so, I’m really trying to move to 100% laptop.

7. What sci fi book would you recommend to people? (if you’re not into sci fi, any book)

Ok so my two closest guy friends have been talking my ears off about Asimov’s series... uh.. it’s called “Fondations” in French, it’s probs the same in English? But yeah before them, my grandad, dad and brother have mentioned it too, and it does sound amaze tbh. So. I’d recommend that blindly. 

8. What country would you want to live in if you could?

*wherever you will go plays softly in the distance* Girl, I wanna come to Norway just cause you’re there :’) But also I really loved Japan, I wanna go back for a few years... Canada sounds very live-able too if that makes sense... Tbh just get me OUT OF HERE, and somewhere with good internet connection, and I’m probably good.

9. Who would you like to live with, out of anyone in the wooooorld?(dead or living I don’t caaaaaaaaaaare)

You :p I don’t even need to THINK about this, I can’t imagine anyone making me happier than you did, I miss living with you every freaking day, my past few weeks have been so much better since I know I’ll have you around for a few days soon, and oh my god I’m supposed to be out having fun right now and instead I’m gonna start crying over this AGAIN right where are the drinks

10. Do you prefer using a mouse or a mousepad?

I’m probs gonna be the only one to answer MOUSEPAD all the way. I never bothered buying a mouse, and now at the office my hands instinctively go for the keyboard instead of my mouse and life is a constant s t r u g g l e

11. Wtf kinda question was that ^ ? haha. OK, real last question: MARIO or ZELDA? (the games not the peeps)

GDI THAT’S A HARD ONE, well i think I enjoy playing Mario better, but top notch fun for me is watching you or my brother play Zelda :p

[unbareablelightness]

Why h2o Sparkling Water?

Despite having an SEO hostile name, h2o.ai is a pretty cool company. They have developed a great open source plug-and-play data science platform in h2o. They some other projects that are noteworthy and of course Sparkling Water, the subject of this post. Sparkling Water is essentially the h2o APIs on top of Spark, allowing the power of h20 to take advantage of Sparks distributed computing model. That being said, is it worth it to load another dependency when Sparks MLLib is adequate for most machine learning needs? I went through this exercise a few weeks ago and this post is mostly my notes with some added illustration and some code.

Cost vs Benefit

Using h2o isn't free in the context of complexity. I've jotted down the costs and benefits of using it:

Costs

A large dependency

Added overhead of additional datatypes on top of Sparks datatypes (H2OFrames)

Steeper learning curve

Benefits

Moar algorithms

Performance (sometimes)

I'm sure a lot more can be said about the differences, but these are the things I noticed in a few days playing around with h2o. I’m going to spend the rest of the post trying to illustrate this.

Generalized Linear Regression

We'll do a linear regression with Sparkling Water on a small dataset. I’m less concerned about the scientific rigor of doing this and more concerned with the ease of using the APIs.

Fortunately, you can include all of what you need for sparkling water in just one dependency (although a rather larger one). I use SBT but you can build this with maven as well.

From here you will need to create a Spark Context and an H20 context that takes a Spark Context as an argument:

From here it gets kind of weird. We need to use hex, the Java library that implements the algorithms in h2o:

Contrast with Spark MLs linear regression (Note: there isn’t a base GLM implementation so I used an old code sample with similar data to this one but not exactly matching column names. ):

Thoughts

Neither MLLib nor Sparkling Water are what I would exactly call intuitive or beginner friendly. For example, take doing a linear regression in scikitlearn:

or R:

There is a lot less overhead because we don’t have to deal with the type system and the APIs are built for the domain (DataFrames). That being said, Spark does offer quite a bit more configuration power to the end user, and h2o even more power. MLLib and h2o both allow distributed computation as well, which R nor Panads does in any generalizable way.

A second thought is about how complex it is to get started with Sparkling Water. I had to read a booklet before being able to get a “Hello, World” example up. Perhaps this is by design; we shouldn’t have people who are unfamiliar with the details surrounding statistics. Now that I’ve invested a handful of hours I feel like I can work my way through most problems, however. That’s about the same way I felt about MLLib, the first day of using it I was in a web of writing custom code to get from one data structure to another.

My final thought is about hex. Hex has a lot in it and there is a lot to be said about that. There are far too many “machine learning” libraries where one or two algorithms are implemented; Sparkling Water has a wealth of them. For this post, I stuck with the basics but you can get crazy if you wanted to pretty quickly. For the most part, you can just use H2OFrames as an input into those algorithms, which is incredibly convenient. This is simply not the case in MLLib as I noted above and as the example I gave demonstrates.

Summary

While this is just one example, the trade offs are pretty clear to me. You add cruft and a bit of complexity by using Sparkling Water, but for a more unified way of doing data science and saving models for reuse. if you want to do deep learning on Spark, there is not really a better place to start from what I’ve seen so far, but if you just want to do a linear regression it’s hard to make a case for H2o. I’ll be using Sparkling Water some more as we’re exploring some algorithms at work, but I plan on using MLLIb as well and comparing and contrasting.

It's worth nothing that Sparkling Water has some nice features out of the box like a fast csv parser and a nice Notebook environment called h2o flow. Those could be very nice given your use case.

Contact

If you’re using Sparkling Water in production I’d love to talk to you. Feel free to shoot me an email, or hit me up on Twitter. I'd really appreciate it!

[psydoktor]

Plans for 2017

Heya guys! Hope you have a great new years! Lately i’ve been pondering about what to do for this year so made a list of things I want to do for this year :D My school schedule might be tight for this year after winter break, but here we go:

Worldbuilding- I wanna expand more about my characters’ world and mostly the setting of what they do and how they do a thing

GOTDAM WRITING!!- Yes yes, I told myself I was gonna do more writing for my characters, but luckily I jot down a few things for their backstories in my handy dandy notebook so I wont forget( ‘cause I tend to forget at times). Sadly, I cannot reveal TOO MUCH about some of them so gotta keep quiet on that. And now I need to flesh em out and werk on da story( ..and by that i mean mostly trying out how to start/middle/end it >.>) ! baby steps first..

Maybe Art streams(!?!)- I can’t guarantee when I’ll steam again. I sometimes get a hard time figuring what to draw sdghjsdfj And about the commissions, I might stream them as well. Gonna AT LEAST TRY TO DO THAT *flops*

MOAR OC STOOF- yes. There shall be moar of bears and bats, oh me oh my!

I think that’s all for the plans for now! ovo I’ll add more if I thought up another.

[uozlulu]

Even moar soulmate AU rambling

Because while the last post was the problem at hand this post is about organizing the vague thoughts about a potential final battle, because of course this fic is a kitchen sink kind of fic. Of course it is

Anyway so like the basic timeline is something like

In the fall Toga, disguised as MIdoriya, sneaks into the dorms and steals more than one of Midoriya’s notebooks. 

Midoriya notices this immediately. Panics. Tells Bakugou (who else is he going to tell?)

Bakugou is having kittens but he’s also not sntiching, because he doesn’t want it to get out outside of UA that these things even exist 

Anyway time passes, the League are up to something probably while they have to decode these stupid notebooks. This still needs fleshing out. 

So, either after the sports festival or after summer vacation third year things come to a head. How? Not quite sure. Anyway stuff happens and it lands Midoriya and Bakugou into a direct confrontation with Shigaraki (Todoroki might also be here, Todoroki might also be working to find them, or idek, still cooking)

Before any actual fighting can kick off, AFO joins them, which is a bit concerning because a) Shigaraki thought he killed AFO in Taratarus before disintegrating the building to the seabed and b) AFO has gone through some upgrades which has sustained his life and perhaps rejuvinated it too but in a money paw kind of way possibly (still working on it)

And it’s like holy shit AFO is here and then AFO relaxes his features and speaks in a voice unlike Shigaraki has ever heard, but boy have Midoriya and Bakugou heard it before - Hisashi’s voice

MIdoriya’s knees weaken involuntarily. Bakugou feels a bit nauseous and then rage or somethiing and it comes out that indeed AFO is Midoriya’s dad and always has been. He has affection for both Inko and Midoriya if only because they’ve been the least wankiest peope he’s ever met. It’s why he’s kept up the overseas ruse all these years and still sends Inko money

And Shigaraki’s just like hold the phone wtf is happening

And Midoriya is still processing this

And Kurogiri is just standing there idek he’s there too for now

And Bakugou is just like going to have to do something 

Meanwhile Todoroki’s either standing there too figuring out the best course of action or is head towards them since the soulmate AU involves a shared emotions soulbond he can feel how bad the situation is because of Bakugou’s emotional state. We’ll see how it goes

And that’s all I’ve got. Now this might not even come to pass or perhaps if it does it’ll become tighter and more logical as I approach it. I just kind of wanted to jot it down because that might help me sort through it and figure out if I really want to kitchen sink this fic or what