This is both amazing and profoundly irritating – the exact writing equivalent of that thing artists do – you know, how they’ll mess up anything that’s on expensive paper and planned in every single detail but get them doodling during a boring lesson and suddenly they’re Michel-bloody-angelo.
A nice anon asked me the other day about my writing software, and I gave out the name “manuskript” and like, realised that i really wanted to share more about it with you guys ! (I gain no money for that, i just really like that app ?)
SO, Manuskript.
First it’s free. So, yeah, nice ! Then :
Parts to put your general infos and summary, with option to put different sized summary. NICE. Then I guess you’d like to keep tracks of your character ? Well good cause here :
Sorted into main/secondary/minor for your convenience. You can chose colors for them which will be useful later… Mine is pretty empty cause I got all in my brain and forget to put it down here but see that last tab ? Perfect for a character sheet ! Then you’ve got plots, sub-plots, sub-subplots ? Here you go :
I did some censorship there, because I wouldn’t want to spoil you but see ? Organised in importance, general infos, characters part of the plot/subplot, then resolution steps. Also there’s a button on the right side so if you wanna have the book summary on screen you can. SO NICE.
Also I guess you may have some worldbuilding to do ? GOOD cause there’s a part for this too !
Here you can put all your worldbuilding stuff, under categories of your choice !
Now you want to do some plans for your writing ? put down chapters, parts ? guess what’s in the “outline” tab 😉
On your left, you plots and subplots. In the middle, your outline. You can also put a summary, one line or longer, set the POV, and the wordcount goal down there. HOW COOL.
What about ACTUALLY WRITING NOW ?
Here is the Editor with all parts open : outline on the left, data, cheat and search tab on the right, and that thing that let’s you keep track of things you put in References (in the data tab) through chapters, with POVS, down.
Note : You can chose also what appears in the outline bar : here i set it so that i have : – progression percentage after categories, wordcount after chapters – color of chapter icon indicates POV – color of categories and chapters name indicate progression (red = not started or less than half [or two thirds ?] of goal, blue = half of goal or more, green = goal or more, orange = more than a third of goal above it)
Of course you can chose which tabs are open. For example this is my usual set. Outline, data, nothing more
I don’t use much of the “Debug” part, but it’s a great way to keep track of things, and I guess you can do much with it that I don’t know about.
I was in charge of feeding the prisoners. This had been my task since the Queen had taken me and 2 dozen other Murania as hostages. The others had not survived long, but I adapted. Obeyed.
The Queen had taken a human. A rare being this far into the Deep, but one feared from one end of the galaxy to the other. According to the Encyclopedia of Sentient Beings Capable of Space Travel, humans needed a diet of roughly 2000 calories a sol served in traditional 3 portions a sol. Which meant that I had to approach the human three times a sol. I could not fail my duties.
The first attempt at feeding the large being ended with a tray thrown at my head with enough force that it would have caved my skull if I had not ducked in time. The human was raging, slamming their entire body against the containment bars with enough force to shake the floor and… and roaring. I cleaned the mess of nutrient paste as fast as I could and fled.
But five hours later found me trembling in front of the human’s cage with another tray of nutrient paste. The human had calmed and was glaring at me intently. I knew they did not speak Murania, but still I spoke my native language as I offered the food again. I did not get to speak it often and missed the sound. “Guria?”
The human tilted their head and to my shock, repeated the word, then repeated it again until they mimicked the sound perfectly, even with the slight whistle at the end.
I offered the tray. “Guria.”
They eyed it suspiciously so I tasted it, showing it to be safe. “Guria.”
They held their hand out and I gave them the tray, scuttling to a safe corner before they could attack me with it again.
They tilted their head again and scowled, then spoke in broken Common. “I thank”
I fled, claws scratching against the shiny floor.
Another five hours passed all too soon and I was back at the human’s cage with the final meal of the sol. They were moving slowly around the cage with their ear pressed to the wall, tapping with their knuckles. I watched them for a moment, confused at the erratic behaviour, but only managed a few seconds of observation before their head swiveled directly towards me and they stopped to face me.
I walked closer and offered the tray. “Guria.”
They took it. “How talk thank in you mouth talk?”
“Meesh Meesh.”
They opened their mouth and let out a loud, short bark, a laugh according to the ESBCST. (I studied it dutifully when they were brought aboard.) “Meesh Meesh!” They pointed to themselves. “Michael.”
My wings ruffled, the sound was so similar! I pointed to myself, “Mikel”
The human shook their head and pointed to themselves. “Me Michael.”
I jerked my head in an upward motion called a nod. “Yes, you,’ I pointed to them, “Michael.” I pointed to myself. “I, Mikel.”
They laughed again. “Michael, Mikel. Much same.”
I chittered. “Very similar, yes.”
Their eyes narrowed. “You work here?”
I bobbed sideways, a bit noncommittal, “As I must.”
“Must work?”
I searched for the simplest way to translate what I meant across the language barrier. “No work, in there.” I pointed to their cage. “Work, out here.” I hopped encouragingly. “You work soon, yes?”
The human bared their teeth and snarled. “No work. Fight.”
My wings flattened against my spine and I fled. Humans were so aggressive.
The next sol I completed my first duties and then found myself lingering outside the containment hall. I was apprehensive about what mood I would find the human in this time. I fluffed my wings out to convey confidence and clicked in with the human’s first meal.
“Mikel! Guria?” They were bouncing on the front part of their feet, hopping up and touching the ceiling, then dropping to the floor and pushing themselves up with their arms repeatedly.
“Yes. What are you doing?” I slid the tray to where they could reach and backed to a… well not safe but safer, distance.
“Work body. Stay strong.” They flopped over onto their back and turned their head to look at me. “Meesh Meesh.”
“Zuan.” I bobbed sideways before deciding to ask them the question I had been mulling over. “You’re Nice, mean, nice, mean.”
Michael laughed. “Yeah. Head bad.” They hooked their fingers like claws and shook them around their head. “Scare, tired, Fight.” They gestured to the bars and glared. “Not like.”
I nodded. “I know that feeling.” A chime sounded, signaling the Queen’s approach. I flattened myself to the floor and made way.
The Queen slithered in, her scaled body scraping against the floor with a sound that made my feathers stand up. She reared to her full two meter height and flicked her tongue out to taste the air.
“Human. You are mine now, you will serve the glory of me.”
Michael looked her up and down and whistled lowly then pronounced in exact Common. “Ugly. Mother. Fucker.”
I gaped at them in horror. They dared insult the Queen to her face?
The Queen hissed, but smugly coiled. “You will serve me, human. I know your kind. You are loyal. I feed you, I provide you shelter. I give you safety. You will love me.”
The human backed up, crouching into a fighting stance. “No love, mother fucker.”
The Queen wiggled and slid towards the exit. “You will serve me.” They paused to pat me on the head. “You have duties, tiny one.”
The next several sols passed in the same manner. I did my duties, I fed the human, we exchanged words. At night I tended my secret garden grown in glasses of water and composted nutrient paste from seeds and cuttings I snuck from the Queen’s hoard. The human was learning not only Common but Murania at a breathtaking pace. We could hold whole conversations now and I was no longer… completely apprehensive about approaching their cage. Michael had not acted aggressive towards me at all since the Queen’s visit.
The rare human plant called a “green bean” plant had fruited after several months of care and pollinating with the tip of my own feather. I was ecstatic over the first fruits of my secret labor and I felt that Michael would appreciate my excitement and maybe a taste of his home planet. Humans were said to be incredibly empathetic and sentimental.
That morning I secreted a pair of bean pods in my uniform and headed for Micheal’s cage. They seemed to notice something was different right away, peering at me with concern. “All okay, Mikel?”
I nodded and nervously whispered. “Secret, right?”
They lowered their voice and moved closer to the bars. “Yeah, secret.”
I showed him the beans. “I grew these. It’s the first harvest from the plant! It’s a huge secret, but I wanted you to have them.”
Michael stared at the beans with an expression I didn’t recognize for a long time before whispering, their voice strangely rough. “You get trouble for these?”
I nodded and tried to shove the beans into their hands. “Yes, a lot of trouble. Take them!”
They took them and smiled. “Meesh Meesh, Mikel. This…. This mean lot to me. I can’t say enough. Meesh Meesh.” They bit into one and grinned, crunching happily. “Very good! You do good!”
I chittered and ruffled my wings, pleased with the praise. “Zuan, Michael.” I gave them their tray of nutrient paste and fled.
The next day (human word for sol) I found a broken something in the Queen’s trash bin. It was silvery and had a lot of moving parts and made me think of Michael. I shoved it into my uniform and snuck it to Michael. They were overjoyed and immediately began fiddling (another human word I find pleasant to use) with it.
I found I enjoyed making Michael happy and kept my eyes out for things to gift them. A broken flute, a torn book, a shiny rock shard, a discarded pipe, a bit of string. It all was random junk, but Michael was still so happy for each item. It… was a pleasant feeling, almost like being back with my brood mates.
Then… Then the alarms sounded one morning and the ship rocked with an explosion. Frightened, I grabbed my precious green bean plant and rushed instinctively towards Michael’s cage.
Only to find they weren’t there. The bars were broken, bent outward and a piece of the wall was torn open, exposing sparking wires and smashed circuits. The lights were flickering and I could hear screaming. I decided to run for the escape pods and hoped that the Queen died in that explosion.
I had barely skittered into the hallway when I found Michael. They were fighting with a guard twice their size, but easily leaped around it’s bulk and stabbed it in the base of the skull with some sort of spear. A primitive weapon, but still deadly in the hands of the human. Michael rode the body of the guard down to the ground and leaped off, brandishing the spear at me.
Frozen in fear, I distantly realized the weapon was made from the shiny rock tied to a piece of pipe. I was to die from a weapon I provided then.
Except, Michael lowered the weapon and smiled. “Mikel! I find you! Come on! We get out of here!”
“Out… Escape?”
“Yeah! C’mon, I stole codes for ship!”
I followed them numbly, too scared and shocked to process that not only had a single human escaped a 1st class prison cell with just bits of junk, but had also destroyed the Pirate Queen’s ship, and was taking me with them.
It wasn’t until we were flying fast and far from the wreckage, headed towards a Trading Station, that I found my voice. “Why… Why would you save me? I…” I didn’t know how to express the fact that I was nothing, tiny, worth only for cleaning while the human was strong, big, and apparently a fearsome and brilliant warrior.
Michael glanced at me from the corner of their eyes. “We friends, Mikel. Friends no leave friends. Also, you trapped like me. On other side of bars, but trapped same.”
“Friends? But Queen provided for you, you were supposed to bond with her?!”
The human looked at me incredulously before laughing long and loud, his head thrown back with the effort of it. “No Bond with Queen, she put me in cage. You! You give me food, you talk, teach, you bring me presents. You good friend. Queen Piece of Shit.”
“Oh.” Michael had bonded with me. And.. I with them it seemed. And we were free. “Meesh meesh, Michael. You’re a good friend too.” I hugged my green bean plant. “What now?”
“I thinking I turn in Queen head for bounty, use money buy good ship again. After, you want go home or you want explore?”
My wings flared in excitement. “Can I have a garden room on our ship?”
Michael grinned and tossed his arm (gently) around my shoulders. “Yes, you have garden room. Grow lots plant in space. Explore! Garden! New Planet! New Seed!”
Maintaining religion in a post-apocalyptic setting – Jewish & Hindu Emphasis
A lot of the signs of Jewish devoutness are things you can totally do in a postapocalyptic setting. I mean first of all, you can break any rule to save a human life, so if you’re not supposed to kindle a flame on Shabbat but you have to light a fire to not die, then you’re fine.
But anyway. Shabbat is about rest and renewal, so your character can take one day in every seven, starting at sundown (Friday night if they have a way of knowing what the days of the week were in the Before Times!) to rest, say the special prayers – if they’re devout enough to be “devout” as you said in your question, they’ll know a lot of this stuff by heart – and refrain from the kind of work you do on weekdays. Like maybe if they’re a posthole-digger they don’t dig any post-holes on “Saturday” morning.
Not eating pork, shellfish, rabbit, the back end of beef, and bugs is another thing – but again, people did wind up eating all kinds of whatnot in the Warsaw Ghetto – these rules aren’t meant to be dying over. If they know when Passover is in this world they can leave off eating bread for a week and maybe even cobble together a makeshift seder from memory.
If you have a married woman and she’s Orthodox she can still cover her hair. If she’s not Orthodox this is probably not an issue.
If they have any way of knowing when Yom Kippur and Tisha b’Av are, and it’s safe to do so, they can fast.
Especially if they’re Orthodox, they can start the day with the morning prayers. If this person is Orthodox and menstruating, and there’s water in which to do so, they can say the mikveh prayer while taking the bath after their period is all finished. (I’m Reform but I find comfort in this kind of thing, too.)
If we’re talking about someone who wasn’t raised in the normal world – I was assuming the apocalypse in this was recent, but I mean if they’ve never known normal-Earth – then they might have learned all these things by rote from parents or community instead of from going to temple.
This, plus living up to Jewish values like tikkun olam (healing the world) and tzedekah (justice) and all that – that’s all it takes to feel like good/satisfying rep to me.
–Shira
As I’ve probably mentioned before, the term “Hinduism” is kind of a misnomer, as it implies that there’s one such thing. If Christianity or Islam are families of sibling belief systems that share obvious commonalities, “Hinduism” is a huge family of distant cousins, groups of which often don’t seem to have much of anything in common and you just have to take their word that they’re related. If you look hard, there might be a family resemblance.
I often think about this when confronted with the question of how I’d live my life in a post-apocalyptic wasteland (and this is something I consider with alarming regularity these days). Which are the parts of my upbringing that are actually important? What of it have I already jettisoned by choice or changes in circumstance and what more would I? And what of it is silly garbage that’s going to get me killed by the next band of water bandidos marauding the blasted hellscape that is New New York City?
Anything that you might broadly categorize as a religion has aspects that range from the ritualistic to the philosophical so of course Hinduism is no exception. I’d posit that extreme ritualism and extreme navel-gazing are both things likely to get you shanked by bandidos so in the interests of survival your character is probably going to want to tread a middle path. Any rules against eating beef are probably out the window (unless it just makes them sick regardless). So is strict adherence to doing a morning prayer or yoga, or meditating so deeply you don’t notice the bandidos coming. On the other hand, there may be good reasons for maintaining dietary restrictions (e.g., you can’t trust that any food grown outside the Safe Zone isn’t deadly). Meditation can relieve stress and you could probably use some stress relief after the apocalypse. However, arguably these markers are matters of culture rather than belief (that is, not all Hindus eschew beef or practice meditation; those that do do because they were exposed to the concept somewhere).
This is a hard question to answer because it would really depend what kind of Hindu background this character comes from and how (if relevant) they related to their culture “before the fall” so to speak. They may identify with one particular deity due to their circumstances (for example, Vishnu, to preserve the world they do have; Shiva or Durga, as a reflection of the destruction that presumably brought about said apocalypse, and from which there will hopefully come renewal; or Ganesh, to remove the obstacles they surely encounter every day). I should note that were it me in that position, any identification with or invocation to a god would probably be extremelysarcastic: the gods didn’t prevent the apocalypse, why the hell would they help me now? Again, it depends on the character’s personal outlook.
You might also consider some of the relations elemental factors have to most Hindu rituals and how that might change in this environment. For example: water, light, fire, and food are all typically revered or at least valued greatly.
– Water is a life-giving resource and many Hindus revere rivers. In a wasteland, protecting clean and safe water might very well have sacred significance as a matter of literal life and death.
– The divine is often thought to dwell in food and sustenance and gods receive offerings of food at festivals. You may not be having very many festivals but the value of food may be thrown into stark new focus.
– Does this world lack for sunlight, warmth, or energy? Orthoprax Hindu priesthood often revolves around keeping a sacred fire. In a world where flame is the power source of a community, for example, the person who keeps the fire going could very well think of it as a sacred ritual, and maybe that’s a connection to the beliefs or practices they or their family held before. You can even abstract it a bit more. What if a postapocalyptic community runs off some relict solar panels? Some character might see that as very literally depending on the sun for their survival.
If there is one thing that unites most flavors of Hinduism, it’s the notion of dharma, which is hard to translate, but loosely means “order” or “duty,” or more generally “that which is established or held firm.” So, what about this character holds firm? I’d say in such an extreme circumstance, devotion or religious practice is more than just throwing out the names of some gods every now and then to remind people of your roots (especially if you keep praying for help and it never comes). It’s more about how you conduct yourself in relation to the world, and when you reach back into those old virtues ingrained in you by your family, how you exercise them relative to nature and the people around you when literally may not be sure that the sun will rise tomorrow. It’s not easy but the apocalypse rarely is.
date a selkie, but don’t hide her cloak. let her go home and visit her family now and then, knowing that she’ll come back and hang her seal cloak in the closet like she always does. trust is important.
The first time she lets the redhead take her home, she’s diligent about hiding her cloak. She folds it carefully against tears and rips and abrasions, and hides it in a sea cave whose entrance is concealed by the tide.
She does the same, the second and third and fourth times, careful, wary, mindful of her mother’s lessons. Remembers the way her mother’s hands had chafed on her soft cheeks, rough with cooking and cleaning for her fisherman husband, the way her mother’s peat-dark eyes had been tense and harsh with the lesson.
“Mind me, Niahm. Never let them find your cloak.”
The way her mother’s mouth had curved, a sickle of dissatisfaction and relief and envy, as she had escaped into the waves.
So she minds her mother’s lesson, and she takes care with her cloak.
Would that she had taken as much care with her heart.
The fifth time, she wears the cloak to the girl’s door, clutched about her throat, dripping along the darkened lanes.
She enters the home, welcomed with soft kisses and gentle touches and kindling passion. She drapes the cloak, artful in her carelessness, across an old wooden chair, the one that creaks and tilts slightly if you don’t sit just right.
When she wakes, in the wee hours of the morning, even before her lover, the cloak still rests, supple and dappled by the sea, on the back of the chair.
She frowns into the softening dawn, dons the cloak, and returns to the sea.
And again, the sixth time. And the seventh.
The eighth time, she finally breaks, prickling and hurt with longing, gripping a handful of russet hair in her hand, firm with emphasis.
“Surely you know what I am,” she says to her lover, the cool froth of sea foam and the call of gulls curling around her voice.
“Of course,” her lover responds, soft and tender in the dawnlight, throat arched willingly, pale as the inner whorls of a shell. “You taste of the sea,” the girl whispers, reverently.
She shakes her lover’s head gently, fingers tangled still in russet locks. “Why?” she demands. “Why won’t you keep me?”
A long silence that waits and fills, like a tidepool, stretches between them. Cool as a current. Deep as the Channel.
Her lover’s eyes are dark and tender. “Must I trap you to keep you, my heart? Is that the shape of love that you desire?”
She sinks into the thought, struck and stymied, remembering her mother’s harsh hands, her cold eyes. Her hand eases into russet waves, caresses where her grip had punished. Her lips press cool and damp as the sea against the arching curve of her lover’s shoulder. “What shape of love will you give to me?”
The answer is easy, quick, certain. “Myself. Only myself, whenever you should wish it. Your cloak by the door, your body in my bed, and the freedom to go, whenever you must. As long as you wish.”
It’s not an answer a fisherman could ever give, nor would think to.
The ninth time, she hangs her cloak by the door, draped in careful dappled folds next to a drying oilskin jacket.
So the other day, I was thinking about the classic alignment chart, and how it doesn’t really do much for me personally since it’s more about how characters interact with systems rather than how they interact with other people
I had a minute, so I figured I’d throw something together that DID suit my needs!
(Note: This chart regards a character’s intent rather than the outcome of their actions—and for sake of clarity, here are the definitions I’m working with:
Good: concerned with the well-being the collective, often at expense of the self
Evil: concerned with the well-being of the self, often at the expense of the collective
Kind: concerned with the emotional responses of others
Cruel: unconcerned with the emotional responses of others)
I like conceptualizing things this way, cause sometimes Bad People behave with ‘good’ or ‘kind’ intentions, and sometimes Good People do things that seem ‘evil’ or ‘cruel’
Also this gives me a way to compare/contrast characters who get lumped together under the other system
Bant Eerin is a freighter captain and Mon Mothma is a victim of sex pollen. They run afoul of the Hutts on Corulag. Optional plot: Camping happens.
These are fantastic!
I got Shaak Ti and Feral (THANKS FOR INCLUDING HIM, HOLY SHIT) being menaced by a rancor while camping on Felucia. Shaak Ti’s a Republic soldier and Feral’s an adopted Mandalorian.
… Adopted Mandalorian Feral has a whole lotta potential, given his brothers’ relationship with Death Watch.
I was thinking of your lament about variety when I made this generator. XD
I got:
Quinlan Vos is a trade-unionist and Obi-Wan Kenobi is an escort for hire. They are taken prisoner by the CIS on Mandalore. Optional plot: Zombies
First of all, this thing is amazing and almost every one of them makes me think or laugh. Second, I can see this happening, but why the hell would the CIS want that kind of trouble?!?
*cries* This is beautiful. Please, enjoy these highlights:
Anakin Skywalker is a university professor and Fives is trying to share the message from the Church of the Sacred Sarlacc. They are drugged and hallucinating on Arkanis. Optional plot: One of them is actually from the past.
1. Why and how did Anakin get put in charge of a class. 2. LOL.
Anakin Skywalker is a member of a royal family and Wolffe is unemployed. They are petting tookas on Bespin. Optional plot: One of them ALMOST gets hurt protecting the other.
SOMEONE PLEASE GIVE ME PRINCE ANAKIN AND WOLFFE PETTING SMALL ANIMALS FOR NO REAL REASON.
Anakin Skywalker is a Sith Lord and Yoda is a musician. They are lovers on Falleen. Optional plot: One of them has inappropriate feelings
THIS ENTIRE AU IS INAPPROPRIATE FEELINGS.
Quinlan Vos is a diplomat and Quinlan Vos is a trade-unionist. They are lovers on Ord Mantell. Optional plot: Someone is wearing a tracking device without realizing it.
TWO Quinlans.
Padmé Amidala is a droid mechanic and Obi-Wan Kenobi is a member of the Grand Army of the Republic. They are helping refugees on Kadavo. Optional plot: Thrawn. Somehow Thrawn.
I am in favour of ALL the Somehow Thrawn. I would pay good money to die of the snark level with Padmé, Obi-Wan, and Thrawn in one room.
I laughed until I was on the verge of crying. Utter win.
I got:
Mina Bonteri is a pilot and Feral is a fallen Jedi. They are old
acquaintances on Ryloth. Optional plot: One of them is on the run from
the law.
&
Siri Tachi is an adopted Mandalorian and Barriss Offee spends time
picking up dropped credits in order to eat. They are being hunted by
assassins on Bothawui. Optional plot: One of them is planning on killing
the other.
and will now spend a lot of time contemplating these things when I should be doing other things.
Steel Phoenix Studios 