9/21/21 Update

Time moves too fast.

Here's a frustratingly weird hint on our next character reveal. #3 out of 5 we're excited to introduce you to them!

On a separate note, Mouse & Ram have reached the 80% completion point for the prologue, meaning that we will, for a fact, be able to release a demo of Beau Ideals by the end of the year!

Update details below

1. Writing & Coding

Rose, author of @valleyofkings-if, very very very kindly beta read the prologue and, with her notes and suggestions, the prologue is on the cusp of completion. The final touches will be added as it is transferred into the renpy code, allowing Mouse to account for in-game pacing, background transitions, etc.

The coding process is taking a little longer than anticipated but will certainly take less time than it took to write the damn thing. Additional work on the UI, menus, etc. will also need to be done but is currently low priority.

2. Art & Assets

As mentioned in last week's post, Ram was able to complete the six unique backgrounds for the Prologue. Chapter 1 background work has begun. An interesting choice has come with creating backgrounds for an enclosed space, namely, trying to determine the "angle" at which the backgrounds will be shown at.

Balancing the viewing lens, angle, and scaling with how we want the character models to appear continues to be challenging especially for backgrounds we know we'll be using extensively.

DOBREV Headcanon #10

Raoul takes Achille and Dobrev to a ghost hunting convention and loses them almost immediately. Luckily, he runs into Alessandro Alemagna III, who helps him locate the boys while also informing him about the paranormal. By the time they return home, Raoul knows more about ghosts than they do, and even got his wife several creepy souvenirs.

What people think Ever After High is: ❤️💛A fun, silly franchise about the kids of fairytale characters with lots of puns and cute outfits! 💜🖤

What Ever After High actually is: A dystopian world where, based solely on who they’re born to, children are assigned future roles in the reenactments of every single fairytale once a generation, a tradition believed to be cosmically mandated to prevent complete societal collapse and destruction. These roles then dominate their lives in a strict caste system, determining their social standing and treatment, what interests and careers they’re allowed to pursue, how they’re expected to generally behave, who they should be friends and fall in love with; and many are forced to grow up knowing they’ll die young, suffer trauma or abuse, or commit terrible crimes because they’re ‘destined’ to. Their standard education revolves around preserving this cycle. One girl’s rebellion sparks a larger student movement against the countless injustices of the system. However, half the students still cling to it because their a) destinies grant them privileges, b) they fear the loss of everything they know and love to defiance-induced chaos and/or c) their identities are so deeply tied to their roles they don’t know who they are or what to do without them.

Tuesday, September 21

Today, I just wanted to say how beautiful tea and coffee is. Yes, a brown drink can be romanticized. Tea is the first thing I drink in the day, the first thing I come home to, and the last thing I drink before I fall asleep. There are so many different types of tea, too! Same with coffee! A lot of the beverages have caffeine, and I think that's lovely, too. It keeps me awake, at least until my science class. Coffee can be purchased almost anywhere - isn't that beautiful? It's one of the most reliable things, other than water. And coffee says a lot about you! Do you like it black? Or creamy and sugary? The best thing is, you can get it however you like!

Drinks are beautiful. Thank you for keeping me alive :)

RELEASE DAY: HOOD, Season Three

RELEASE DAY: HOOD, Season Three

I have been an extraordinarily busy bee lately! HOOD‘s third and final season came to a close in May, but pandemic woes and hassles put off its wider debut. I meant to have this out in early August at the latest, but the world had other plans. HOOD: Season Three Robb Locke’s trapped in a high-security Panoptikon and Sharud is under embargo, the military governeur Notheim’s fist is tightening…

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LIVSSTRID {2}

Summary: The goddess Freyja comes down from the realm of the gods, Asgard, to visit Midgard, the realm of men. She is immediately drawn to Rigmor, and, like with many other gifted people, she blesses her.

It was not rare that Freyja, the most beautiful and splendid goddess, would come down to Midgard with her chariot to take a walk through the human world. Her two cats, Bygul (Honey) and Trjegul (Amber), a gift for her from the god of thunder Thor, pulled it ahead. When she descended to Midgard, she used her magic to look like a beautiful lady with curly golden hair. Her cats wore collars and followed her suit. Their furs were golden like her hair. When the three of them walked the earth, the sun seemed like it shone a little brighter. Whoever passed them by swore they had seen the most splendid woman and cats.

Freyja did not come across a lot of people. She had chosen a quiet path that few men knew and even fewer walked. The path wound from the city into the forest and back again. The town she had arrived at was none other than Malmö, the star of the southern kingdom of the Swedes. The city filled her with thrill and made her heart long to recall the beauty of the south. All the houses and shops and happy families and young lovers and old pairs.

Bygul and Trjegul walked and walked. The sun goddess Sol was getting swallowed by the clouds. Soon, the moon, Mani, would replace her. Freyja could hear people talking and laughing. Dogs barked and whined, music danced through the air, birds chirped and cars vroomed past.

Then they stopped. Freyja’s two cats slowed down, nervous and curious. They wagged their tails, tugging on their reins. Where would they want to go? Freyja reached out to the more restless cat, Bygul, and touched his fur.

He meowed, and immediately next to him stood a fluffy cat like him, a little smaller and more graceful. It started prowling towards the forest, heading inside. Freyja followed on foot, Trjegul and Bygul after her. The further into the forest the smaller cat went, the louder it purred, and with her so did Trjegul and Bygul. Freyja watched them, thoughtful. What could be making her cats so restless, so eager to run ahead?

As the third cat ran, its fur as if caught fire – so orange it had turned, and so red. And then Freyja saw it. The cat was sprinting towards a little girl who had sat on a stump, painting onto a canvas it had put up against a tree. On its canvas, the drawing of a bird was alive. It chirped and flapped its wings and even flew out of the canvas and landed on the girl’s shoulder.

Freyja watched the girl draw for a while in admiration. How could she be making the drawing move? And how did the drawing become like the birds that flew above their heads? She had to approach the girl and talk with her. She had to find out.

The third cat that looked like Bygul walked towards the girl. When it reached her, it nuzzled her leg and gave a meow. The girl stopped painting and picked it up, hugging it, and started petting it.

Hello, Rigmor. Don’t be afraid. I bring word from the goddess Freyja, word of her love. She is in awe of your gift, dear child. She has sent me as a friend and a gift to you, to bless your heart and mind and hand and to watch over you.

When the girl held the cat close, its fur shone bright, brighter than any cat’s fur out there.

That was it. The goddess knew then; the girl had her magic. She had been able to make her art turn real. And not only that. She had been gentle with the bird when it had become real, and with the cat when it had come close.

Freyja watched the girl and the cat snuggle, and smiled. In her feet, Bygul and Trjegul sat, calm at last, not a shadow of their previous restlessness visible.

We found her, o Lady, purred Trjegul, looking up at his mistress.

Bygul scratched behind his ear. We knew she was going to take us here. He then lay down on his front legs and put his head on them. He kept watching the girl and the cat, not blinking even for a second. We could feel it in her. She’s a völva, a seeress, o Lady.

Like you are. Trjegul wagged his tail once, and it wound around his slender body, its lighter tip wiggling in the air. His whiskers trembled a little. No other part of him moved. It was as if the wind, too, had stopped. As if nature was holding its breath at this sight, at the sight of the Lady of the Vanir and her cats and this strange girl.

She’s a völva, too? A little smile appeared in the corner of Freyja’s mouth, then lit up her whole face. The wind caressed her and her cats, then sweetly snuck through the girl’s hair, an invisible hand’s warm touch. Can it be? the goddess wondered. But how? I did not know that many others could do things like us and like the Aesir can… But here, I have am proven wrong.

Yes, the girl was a völva, indeed. And Freyja had known that. Even before she had set foot down on Midgard. Even before she had decided to go on a journey through the land of the men, she had watched out from heaven, her gaze thrown down from Sessrúmnir, tired from seeing who the Valkyries had chosen to go into Valhalla, all those souls welcomed to her room. Half the dead for her, and half for Oden.

And yet here stood a living human, a girl, and Freyja could see clear as day she was meant for her, for her gifts and her beauty. Freyja’s blessing had reached the girl even before Freyja herself could take a better look at her. And then she had seen the magic the girl held inside. It had to be a sign.

It dawned on her. The girl had been one of Nanna’s favourites. Nanna, the goddess of joy, Idunn’s sister and Baldr’s wife, had wished the girl into the world and had had a dream of her birth. Like with many other great women. This girl, Nanna had said, would be sad a lot. But also very happy. She would get followed by love.

And now Freyja had given her even more.

Freyja smiled.

“She will go far in life... as far as we went out here to find and see her,” she whispered to Bygul and Trjegul, bending down and stroking their fur. They purred softly.

Then she got up.

“Shall we head back home, my dears?”

**************************************************************************************************

When I became friends with Leila and Yeona, and later Vidar, I found out Freyja had blessed them as well. We had got fated to pass her and her brother Frey’s magic down our bloodlines. My most powerful blessings were by Nanna and Freyja, and less by Freyr. Tyr gave magic to Vidar, and Freyr and Freyja too. And Vidar’s friends also.

Of course it wasn’t only us that Freyja had met and given her gifts to, I realised. The artists, musicians and writers I met through my life had also gotten blessings from the gods. My boyfriend Kieran got liked by Baldr, the god of joy and light, for example. And Bragi was the patron of poets and musicians, or so my friend Vidar’s band mates would say on and off.

And we honoured them. We made an oath to never stop creating and loving and caring for each other to honour the gods. And our gifts became more powerful, making our lives full of much more adventures. After all, these blessings - our talents - were going to lead us ahead and reshape our entire lives. We could as well allow them to be our guiding light like everyone did.

But soon, there appeared people who thought it would be better to try to steal our flames...

The annoying thing about my armchair aspirations to be a novelist is that I get ideas like “the feeling of standing in a warm choir in a cold church” or “the feeling of a quiet beach early enough that no one is awake yet” or “the texture of grass after a long day wearing shoes”

The American writer inhabits a country at once the dream of Europe and a fact of history; he lives on the last horizon of an endlessly retreating vision of innocence—on the "frontier," which is to say, the margin where the theory of original goodness and the fact of original sin come face to face.

leslie a. fiedler, love and death in the american novel

Keeping the spirit alive. (free ebook with Amazon)

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09F5MF2HF

In the summer of 2032, the fourth expedition lands and finds that chickenpox left by exposure to the first three expeditions has wiped out the native Martians. This expedition turns fatal too, but this time there are survivors, who seem to break into camps… those who want to recreate Earth and those who want to maintain the lost Martian Culture. By the end of the year, Earth like cities are popping up around Mars. By some strange affect of the Martian soil, massive forests sprout in a single night. ("Martian Chronicles", Bk, in earlier versions of the book the date was 2001)

What the book says:

What I see:

my sense of anxiety/shame is alarmingly flexible because in class today a teacher asked me to come down to one of the labs to do more chemistry and i panicked and completely blue screened but then like an hour later i was on the bus talking very loudly to my friend about that paul mcgann erotica novel

"Nadin mau liat bintang mas"

"yaudah ayo"

Arya memang tidak pernah menolak permintaan Nadin, sampai suatu ketika ia lelah untuk berkata iya. Dan kini Nadin tau posisinya di kehidupan Arya. Setelah ber juta kalimat mengiyakan tibalah saat dimana Nadin mendengar kata tidak dari Arya. Tepatnya sore di tepi danau kampus, saat suasana mendung dan mulai turun rintik hujan. Tak disangka Arya meninggalkan Nadin seorang diri tanpa payung atau uluran tangan untuk berlari dari hujan. Pipinya basah akibat tetesan air mata bersamaan dengan gerimis kasar yang mulai teratur. Kini berakhir dan tidak ada lagi Nadin di kehidupan mas Arya.

LIVSSTRID {1}

Summary: Rigmor introduces the reader to her world through a tale from her grandmother.

A/N: I hope you don’t mind a narrative that skips between a few characters and occasionally has rewinds back in time. And lots of family interactions. And, sometimes, cats.

“Granny, can you tell me the myth of the beginning again?"

It was a late August evening. I had spent the entire day outside, playing and doodling in my sketchbook. When I finally sat down at my grandparents’ place up in Gävle, I was already dead tired. And to no-one's surprise. I had travelled for most of the previous day to get there. It had been like a dream come true, arriving here at grandma and grandpa’s - we were finally together! Oh, how long I’d waited to get away from Umeå. I loved the city. But...

There was something far too charming in my grandparents’ countryside house. I just couldn’t stay away. And they were happy to have me keep them company. It suites us all.

Grandma Gunvor smiled down at me, sitting in front of the fireplace. The fire was dead - but not my enthusiasm, beaming as bright as a real flame. And then there was me, paint flecks all over the old t-shirt, a mess of blond hair, a painting brush over the ear, and a cheeky smile. “You mean the one with the gods, darling, yes?”

Grandma made herself a bit more comfortable in her armchair. I jumped on the sofa, looking at her, almost holding my breath, eager to listen to a story. And a story by granny nonetheless, which made it even more wonderful. She straightened her back a bit, holding her hands together in her lap. “In the beginning, there was nothing…”

****************************************************************************************************In the beginning, there was nothing. Nothing but an endless abyss, Ginnugagap, stretched between Muspelheim and Niflheim. An abyss connecting the realms of fire and frost. They later came together. From the melting ice were born Ymir, the first giant, and the cow Audhumla. She fed Ymir with her milk and licked the ice until the first god Buri emerged from beneath. Buri had a son, who later had a wife, and their children were the first gods - Odin and his brothers Vili and Ve.

Odin, Vili and Ve killed Ymir, tore his body apart and created the world from it. The nine realms, brought forth by the first death. A necessary sacrifice, much like many more to follow. Only when you tame chaos can you find order and rule. And even if they are not obvious, you can be sure that they govern everyone and everything’s life in the world.

But the myth does not end here.

After the gods created the first man and woman and their home, Midgard, the humans had children. Then their children had children. And the earth was full of humans, of men and women, tall and short, young and old, clever and silly. They were capable of many things, and the gods noticed that. The humans could dance and sing. They could write poems and sew themselves clothes to stay warm. They could make food to keep themselves alive and they had each other's help in hard times.

We could give them magic and live with them to watch over them and help them out when they needed a hint, the gods thought.

And they did.

Now humans could paint. They could write and make music. And all the things they could do that were once ordinary, only there to keep them alive, now saved them. The paintings were a window to their souls. The writing – a mirror of ink showing the deepest parts of their minds. The music – a beautiful sound in the nights their souls felt lonely and needed someone to hear. And not only them... their children, and the children of their children, too, were capable of this magic. They, too, could explore the living world and that of ideas and to create things.

And the gods got pleased with what they had created. Not only with humans, but with the entire world. The way everything fit and worked was perfect. Now humans could create such wonderful things with the powers they had. They could create things to praise the gods, things that made them better people. It was perfect, the gods thought. The animals felt it.

The plants felt it. And so could the humans. Or, at least, those of them who had magic. It helped them realise they could be happy if they were in harmony with the world. Magic could help them find this harmony.

The gods came down to the earth. We can be here half the time, they said, and half the time in our homes. But it has become wonderful among you, among so many kinds of life.

Wonderful. And we are only hoping you can see it, too. The people who had more magic could see it and feel it, and even live in it, in a little piece of heaven of their own. And those who had less magic were unhappy, as they could not enjoy what the others had. Because they were lazy, they could not bother with developing their magic. And they turned jealous. And vengeful.

Those jealous humans became too full of themselves, too arrogant. They forgot who had created them. They forgot who had breathed life into them, and they dismissed the gods as the creators of the world. They saw themselves as its masters. They began destroying their home, nature, wreaking havoc all around themselves. They fought their way through life instead of using their talents to sail ahead in peace.

Some people were so good at their magic and at what they did that people with lesser or no magic believed them. They believed them when they said they could lead them ahead, and they let them do so.

Those were the people with the most talents and the strongest magic.

Some of them realised they wanted magic only for themselves. Back when there were only a few talented humans. They had gotten recognised, and their magic became well-known.

News of it travelled far and spread wide through the whole world.

The jealous and powerful people decided they wanted to keep things that way. They wanted to be the only ones who were capable of power like that. Being able to dance in the most beautiful way, or be the best at a game, or play a role in a film in the most fitting way. Those were all things they coveted. They and only they had to be the ones who could do things like those. Not the ordinary people. They were mere sheep; they did not need entertainments as this, they did not need to tinkle with power such as this.

And they forbade ordinary people to use magic and know about it. They brainwashed them into fearing magic and made them think that magic was evil. Every magical person who was not useful to the people in power got taken to court. And their power, their magic, got stripped away from them.

Or so they called the new century's mass murder. Ordered by court and acted out by law.

And thus, ordinary people began fearing magic. It was no longer something to bring them joy and help them express themselves. No, it was now something you could lose your life over. And with time, they forgot it.

Everyone trusted the government, the more powerful people who held everyone's fate. And if the government said magic was dangerous, people believed that.

Of course, nor only the government had control over life. Great artists and engineers and designers had power, too.

They had magic.

And magic was talent.

If you had a little, your power was as much – enough to make your life better, but not to fix it whole. You could always make it grow, though. You could make it stronger and more powerful by using it more and more.

And if you had a lot, you could change your entire life, and with it – everyone else's lives. And that was exactly how artists and sportspeople and journalists were born.

But soon the most powerful people got even greedier. They kept trying to keep themselves on the top of the pyramid of power. And they killed off ordinary people who had too much magic. Ordinary people's magic magic could threaten their position. They tried to keep magic away from everyone else in any way possible. They forgot about the gods who had given them this magic in the first place. Those who did not forget laid waste to their souls, to their powers.

The only way the gods remained powerful in the eyes of humans was when humans believed in them. Humans had forgotten them. And the gods decided to punish them for it.

They voted together to take away people's magic – their talents. There were few gods who had mercy.

But some of them felt sorry for the humans. They're weak. And there are some humans who don't use their magic for evil, they said. They create good things. They care for others. They have not yet forgotten the connection they have to us, and to nature, to the things that have made them be. Must we not let them have a little of the magic they used to have?

The gods went out into the world, invisible, or disguised as humans, and met people. They needed to find those still worthy of magic – the people who were going to master magic.

They were going to keep the tales about the gods alive so they lived on in the hearts and minds of humanity.

And they did. It was nobody else but the ordinary people who could do this. The ordinary people, and not those on the top of the pyramid.

Of course, some among them still feared magic. Some of them even loathed it. How could it make all those famous people so powerful?, they complained, and how come that isn't ever me? The gods have forsaken me! I'm all on my own!, they said, and cursed themselves and the gods.

The gods gave those people no powers back.

And thus, in their search of whom to give magic to, the gods found people like you. People who honoured life and the world, who knew the true power of art and of feelings. People who cherished nature and its gifts and thanked the gods for it. And, most importantly, people who knew how to use their magic.

It was people like you who got power – magic. Beautiful paintings, sweet songs. Genius inventions. Delicious food. Fascinating fairy-tales. Comfortable clothes. Warm homes. They could create all those things. Even taking care of other humans became a talent - some people were that kind and thoughtful of each other. All they had to do to keep their talents was to worship the gods through arts or science or any other craft.

But people rebelled. The weaker wanted to survive, and usually those were the most needing of power. And the stronger wanted more power – you see, power is addictive, the more you have, the more you crave. No-one was truly content with their lives. So they raised their voices.

The only way to stop this was to take talents away from people. Stripped from their power, they had nothing more to fight over and kill each other for. But was it fair?, some gods could not help but wonder. And others were merciful.

And they all thought and talked for many days and nights about it. The gods had an ensemble of favourite humans - none other but the humans who used their magic for good deeds. They decided to leave them their magic, or at least most of it. And with others, they forgot to take their magic away.

Over time, people with magic survived. And not only that. Under their magic’s influence, they thrived, and they made other humans’ lives better. Societies got built, and people made up groups to flock to. They are, you know, not made to exist as solitary souls. And talents, magic, got passed on down through generations.

Talents, once more, fell in people’s eyes. Why would we need them?, some humans wondered. Talents were old. They were a leftover, something from back when men first learned how to survive. Why would we need them if we can be on top anyway?

“On top of whom?”, you might wonder. It was with giants and gods that humans were

competing here. Any kind of supernatural creatures that were also capable of thought were a threat.

Giants were big and strong. They could create worlds. Humans could think, speak, have feelings, and create all sorts of things. And gods could breathe life into everything. They could invent creatures, planets, galaxies, universes.

Of course, soon everyone began thinking they were important, and also the best at what they did. Giants got furious and tried to destroy everyone else’s words. Humans tried to manipulate everyone into giving up on their worlds. And the gods were in the middle of a writhing chaos that only they could resolve.

They decided to split worlds with the giants and with humans. Each entity could have its own realm where it would be the almighty ruler. They would not interact with each other, unless they visited each other’s realms. And they would have nothing to fight about if each of them took care of their own things in peace.

And so, talents got forbidden again. They are only leftovers from the old world, humans thought. Would we need them at all? If they used those powers, would they not break the contract to visit other realms? A lot of humans forgot that rule had got broken already, and the gods had been too busy to punish them.

But talents aren’t bad; they are in no way evil, my little dove. No, they are not. They are what keeps this world running, and you three are very, very lucky to have a bit of them. Be very careful. Life can easily lead you astray. And your talent can get tarnished by bad use if you spread evil with it. The gods might take it away from you if they catch you. Or you can get the unpleasant chance to face the music and have to reap what you have sowed.

But who knows… you might also get rewarded for what you do.

He had suddenly found that the once bone-deep love and hate, grief and joy, had all been light enough to be blown out of his memories. And how minor was the pain he had once thought he couldn’t live through? 

The past was as fleeting as clouds. 

the ultimate blue seal by priest.

Books on self improvement and Mythology

Books on self improvement and Mythology

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