#depending on how things go I can make more of the pieces into stickers over time! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tryslora · 11 months ago

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ND Creative: Time, Focus, Organization

Time, focus, and organization can be complicated things as an ND creative.

Objectively, I know what I need to do. I know all the steps. I even know that in order to get it done, I have to list out all of those steps, note how long each will take and their dependencies, then reorganize them into a timeline.

Then I stare at the screen, or the piece of paper, and my brain just stops. Says nope. Hits the mental and emotional back button to get the hell out of that mode.

Makes it kind of hard to get anything done.

I’m currently struggling with this exact thing on multiple levels. Why am I blogging about it? Well, I’m hoping that if I talk about the places where I’m stuck, maybe I’ll become unstuck.

Oh, the funny ways we try to trick our minds, yeah?

Big List Things I Need to Do:

Publishing stuff with DPP (timeline not under my control)

Publishing stuff for independent book (oh hey, a release date would be nice and I’m the one who has to set that)

Plotting and outlining the next PHU novel (is it over a year overdue? I’m sure no one noticed…)

Plotting and outlining the next 7Lakes novel (because when the first one comes out, “where’s the sequel” will hopefully be the obvious first question)

There are a million other things on my list in various sizes from small through medium and even large, but none quite as unwieldy as all of those.

I’ve been blocked on these timelines—both for publishing and for plotting—for a long, long time. I feel like I’m trying to do too many things at once, or attacking things on too many fronts. I worry about well, what if one thing overlaps with another—are the people who want to read my work going to be like “nah, I can’t buy two books” and just nope out of everything? Am I screwing it all up?

I keep telling myself I need to let go and just Do The Thing.

Seriously.

Do The Thing.

So, let’s break down what needs to be done at the highest of levels for the writing-related things (and ignore all the blog posts, TikToks, video editing, etc that also needs to be done).

For publishing with DPP, there is: 2nd edit on book 2, large revision on book 3 before it goes to first real edit, then 2nd edit on book 3, and final edits on all of that. Plus cover reveals, blog posts, teasers. Pulling out quotes I want to use for stickers. I am pretty sure I’m forgetting things. The nice thing is that all of the big overhead things like planning a campaign has been done for me. YAY Duck Prints (Seriously, they are AWESOME). I think my sticking point here is that I have no realistic expectation for how long each editing round will (or should) take, so I’m not sure how to slot it in. Plus I know it’ll be overlapping with the other book.

For solo (independent) publishing, I have so much more to do. I have to create accounts with both the private and public profile information that’s required on publishing platforms. I need to create a logo and develop a description of my “publishing company” (me, it’s just me) and I need to business work for that company, like buying ISBNs. I need to finish the final book editing, then do the layout so I know what the spine width is. Then I can contract for and get a cover. After that it should get easier, right? Pull out quotes, do blog posts, cover reveal, announcement of the release date (probably not in that order). Get the news out. I can set a release date once I get everything else on a calendar. And if the bulk of the editing is done sooner rather than later, my editing energy can be spent on the DPP books while I’m doing production and marketing for the 7Lakes book.

Okay. This all starts to feel like something I can get my arms around. I’m going to let the high level/low level plotting go for now, and come back to it in another post.

So—why is this a blog post anyway?

I mentioned before that I was trying to unstick my mind. By talking out loud to someone else—even though I can’t see that someone, and who knows, maybe I’m shouting into the abyss—I feel like I’m being held accountable. I’m working through it in public. In plain sight. It means I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other, considering every word. It has to get out of my fingertips and onto the page because I am here, not just trying to make notes privately for myself.

I can’t back button out of it.

Sometimes that’s how I get things done.

Will this translate to me taking the things I’ve said above and moving them into something where I can add timeframes, and schedules, and put it all on a calendar with due dates and start breaking it down into even smaller tasks?

Gods I hope so. It’s a goal, anyway.

Getting back to where we started… time, focus, and organization can be complicated as an ND creative.

Time—I spent thirty minutes and a thousand words of chatter.

Focus—It’s like body doubling—by talking to you, I got something done.

Organization—I think I have a list. Or a start of one. It’s more than I had!

It’s a complicated way of doing things, but fingers crossed that my next step is getting to cross off the first part of my timelines task.

#writing #neurodivergent #nd creative #nd series

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thatonesongyouretryingtoremember · 2 years ago

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woah uh here's a second spooky secret anon whose identity you will never be able to guess

tell me about ur fav el hcs. thats not a request btw, it's a demand >:))

YES YES YES ACHI OF COURSE I WILL <2

She loves the moon. She whispers secrets to the moon and tells her stories and listens to her blissful silence in turn basking in her gentle radiance

She has a journal of sorts which is barely holding on due to the fact she has used about every medium known to man on it depending on how she felt that day, between putting butterfly stickers or writing ten page "letters" or straight up cutting the pages. I once wrote a WHOLE ENTIRE THING on this which has been lost to the ages ugh

Ever since someone pointed it out, she has curly hair <2

Her clothes are full of LOVE! Almost everything my girl wears has been previously owned by a family member a friend or her partners. There are also ones she recieved as gifts or ones she picked out, and they all hold love differently. Hand me down clothes carry a piece of family in them and gifts are full of hope, the ones El picks out herself represent self love <2

LIVES for cutting out shapes of paper okay on the daily grind making tiny hearts to hang on he wall

Got a polaroid camera from Jonathan and takes artsy photos of herself and nature and silly photos of her family <22

Likes Dorito chips.

Has asthma.

Enjoys very much to play musical instruments, much to the dismay of anyone who hears. (Pains me to write as a musician bc she's meant to be just like me /j) Lucas Max Dustin and Jonathan love listening to her actually, even if she isn't considered "good" at music.

Prefers reading aloud over in her head, she really likes novels but the format with the huge block of text sucks ass so she gravitates to comics even though they aren't her preferred stories. She loves nonfiction though, and she got Nancy's animal book that she referenced in ST1 to catch the demogorgon and now El reads it all the time, being more proficient in the specific words. But she also gets new nonfiction nature books from the library (RIP Hawkins library) and knows. So many facts.

Speaking of, she can fairly easily sound out words with a bunch of syllables(even if her intonation is off-putting she's actually pronouncing it right" but she fucking hates silent letters. And conjugating. (<- canon evidence I swear) and whatever the fuck kind of dance though through thou and tough have got going on.

Elumax jocks REAL okay they go skating together play basketball together and hike together.

#i hope it sufficient o mysterious anon #song spouts bullshit #el hopper #el hopper headcanons

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computerwarrior · 10 months ago

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((Oooh, makes sense! I like that they're still close enough to form their own squads, but not enough to completely keep them from bonding with others. The squads get their own tags, right?

OH MAN that's intense and also very cool. I'm glad they have some outlet for them to escape and find others like them as they hope for some kind of change to their situation.

Ah, yeah, I can see that. Oooh, right, Tron is his own thing, but oh nooo at it causing problems for team bonding. Did he ever figure it out or have it explained to him?

Oooh, yeah! Ark was programmed to work with others, and having that complete lack of anyone else is a big problem for her, for sure. I didn't know it was that bad, though, and makes sense that Monitors get increasingly desperate for someone to be there. I'm so glad that she had Tron and the others to get her through it and prevent it from being as much of a problem. And, yeah, I could totally see her slowly going off the rails and doing more and more risky things as she's craving anyone at all. (A large portion of the questions I've asked during this discussion have been because I've played around with Ark in those scenarios, lol)

Ahhh, yeah, that makes sense - they're so dependent on working with others, so any failing of them is hard on them.

Oh nice! I love that the whole Hive looks after everyone in it, including the ones that got in by bonding with another member. And, it's great that the whole group comes down on whoever upset them.

Very cool! And, oh that's neat that images, even simple ones, take up a lot of space and so have to be spread out over multiple tags. Do they get interrupted or broken sometimes, leaving just bits and pieces of images? Or them getting scrambled and out of order, so that nobody can figure out what it was originally supposed to be? Can tags be rearranged and reordered? (Like if somebody had a bunch of fun tags, and then got bonded, could they sort the bonded one to be displayed first? Or, is there a priority system that already does that?)

That's super neat that the Medics can share important patient information that way, especially of how to better distract and reward programs under their care! Awww, all of those are wonderful and great! And, make so much sense for the characters! (Though, now I'm wondering what kinds of things programs put on stickers, lol)

Pffffft, oh that's amazing and he so would, lol. Does he tag all of his Occupation programs with "MINE" or some equivalent like "Property of Clu" or something? (Hmmm, if a character was rectified, tagged by Clu as "MINE", and then unrectified, would Clu's claiming tag remain? If so, is it easy to remove? Or harder, since he's an Admin?)

Ooooh, I didn't think about rectification altering permissions. So, if a Monitor got rectified, they'd have none of their original permissions, just whatever new ones were loaded in?

Security alerts is a great concept! I love that they can warn everybody - like the weather alerts we get on our phones. Trojan Viruses hiding as a regular program is a fantastic concept! There's so many neat things that can be done with that! Could any program send out a security alert if the situation was bad enough? Like, if there's a Virus or some other threat, could the alert system be opened to anyone to send where they saw the threat? Or, is that too easy to be abused? (Or, could also be used as a system to report where ISOs were seen? Yikes.)

Oooh, the arm circuit being the only real way to identify an ISO on a quick look or scan is good - then they could hide easier and try to avoid the deeper scans. Are there ways to trick or prevent deeper scans? Like some kind of disruptor? Ohhhh, them having to find a friendly Medic in order to get the tag removed must lead to some intense times!

Oh, that's fun, I love that! A really neat way to indicate their friendliness, without completely giving it away to people not in the know! If there were a bunch of ISOs in the area, would it continually blink or just change to a steady color or off? (Oooh, very cool!) (Ark probably has a piercing, likely in one of her ears. With you describing it as a bar, I keep imagining it through like the top of her ear. Probably the only times she takes it out is if she's trying to be stealthy and not noticed or paid any attention to (like if she went out into the City after Renegading to just walk around or go to a club or something), though she likely keeps it in her inventory when she does.)

Oh nice! Pffffft, oh noooo, lol. Yeah, with them not being fully aware of what programs are like, I can definitely see some misunderstandings happening, lol. When Users comment on/out their code, are the comments tags? Like, when they describe what certain functions do or sign things or make jokes, like you said, are those technically program tags?))

((Oooh, I enjoyed reading your thoughts on program bonding! I have some questions I'd like to see your take on, if you don't mind! ^_^ Would programs who have damaged code and/or have been rectified have difficulties with bonding, or do they work around it by sharing the non-damaged/non-Occupation code? Does bonding differ between Basics and ISOs? Can programs and Users bond? Also, what would happen if one half of a bonded pair died/got rectified/became a virus? Thanks! <3 ))

Good questions!!

Programs who have damage (and rectification counts as a type of damage, since it's corruption/forced alteration) have a little more difficulty than their intact contemporaries with bonding - though this depends on how deep the damage runs. You can split this into two main categories :

Core damage : what it says, their core is damaged. They'd have to share an undamaged part, and finding or isolating those could be incredibly difficult. Most Programs with core damage would use a method more like tagging their energy field with a label than actually exchanging code.

Non-core damage : finding undamaged core code? No problem. Making sure your core is compatible with the introduced bits from the partner... much more problematic. They could end up having a nasty reaction, as their internal defences read the introduced code as an attempted hack.

ISOs and Programs bond the same way, but cross-bonding between the groups is rare due to compatibility issues.

Programs and Users can tag each other's energy fields, but core-deep bonding is impossible. The Program in such a couple may willingly modify their core code to be unable to function without their User, but as a User doesn't have core code the same way (DNA is too complex to mess with) the User can't exchange it with their partner. An ISO and a User are more compatible this way, but are more likely to follow User customs than Program ones.

For a bond to break in those ways...

Death : the remaining Program would drift through almost Stray-like, barely functioning, until someone put them out of their misery or they followed their partner. It's cruel and upsetting for everyone involved, and most bonded Programs go permanently offline within a few minutes of each other.

Rectification : this is one of the few scenarios where it does not end in the Occupation's favour. If one Program is still unrectified, they can pull their other half back from it - rectification can't alter core code, though it can affect everything else, so they recognize each other and a skilled enough medic-hacker can perform the necessary operations to undo what was done to them.

Virus/corruption : ends one of two ways. Either the same as rectification, or now you have two Viruses happily bonded and gleefully corrupting everything they can get their hands on together. Toss of a coin for which result happens, although Monitors and other Security builds are more likely to join their partners in Virus-dom than the standard Program on the street.

Derezolution : while on the Legacy Grid this is effectively the same as death because Programs tend not to get re-rezzed (since the sole User is in hiding and this would be the quickest way for someone to find out where he is), on the Encom Grid Programs reactivate from backup pretty often. As long as the backup includes the bonded code/tag, it's like nothing happened. At most, there will be a shiver down the spine of the one who remains that doesn't go away until their other half reactivates. If the backup does not include the bonded code, the remaining Program is drawn to their partner's backup and they re-bond.

#reblog #evecolourshock

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whimsicalwhespir · 2 years ago

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My ROTTMNT Headcanons:

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Mikey:

-Slaps bandaids and stickers on everyone when they're sad! Also does the same for himself

-I love how everyone agrees Mikey can cook but I'd like to think he's memorized everyone's favorite meals and makes them on special occasions! He also totally teaches Casey how to cook so the poor boy can have a healthy and productive hobby to seperate his apocalypse life from this one

-Absolutely 100% is the most connected to his mystic abilities. He was the first to unlock them and overall shows a more deep seeded understanding of how they work. Draxum is also silently fascinated by him

-Follow up to the previous hc, after the Krang, Mikey totally trains every night to use his powers and the first thing he does is levitating a piece of pizza into his mouth

-Therapizes every single person in his family, they act all dramatic about it and poke fun at Mikey but they really do apprecate it

-Hides in his shell whenever he's sad and since it's super obvious, his family catches on quickly and can comfort him

-Has like 800 stuffed animals

-His art covers like 70% of the lair because Splinter and the boys keep hanging it up proudly and asking Mikey to make murals of them. Same thing applies to April and Draxum pretends to hate every drawing but in reality he has a special room dedicated to Mikey's art in his apartment

-Is the most empathetic of the group and knows exactly how to calm everyone down on bad days or nights

-Legally cannot say fuck (but Donnie is trying to influence him)

-Has scars on his arms from opening the portal and paints over them, turning them into art (ex: lines turn to vines with flowers or tree branches or little snakes or whatever), whenever he's down

-Painted a huge mural for his gram-gram in the lair

-Sobs hysterically at sad animated movies and shows (*handshake*)

-Calls Draxum mom and/or secondary dad

Leo:

-Sings obnoxiously loud in the shower

-Watches telanovelas late at night and gets really really into them

-Regularly practices sleight of hand and uses it in battle (once went to Hypnopottamus for lessons and neither ever talked about it again but Hypno is secretly proud of Leo's progress)

-Is a hardcore theatre geek with knowledge of plays and musicals that could rival Donnie's knowledge of other topics

-Tries to make people laugh any time he can, even if it's at his own expense

-If he could get a pet, it would be a bird so he could teach it phrases like "Dee is a nerd" and then follow Donnie around all day

-Has a bunch of nightmares about the Krang debacle and checks on everyone after he wakes up just to make sure they're okay. (Sometimes he runs into Raph and they both silently check on everyone together)

-Refuses to tell Donatello that he's his favorite brother because Leo knows it'll just go to Donnie's head

-Used to hate his face marks but his brothers kept telling him how cool they were and nowadays they regret it because all of that just fed his ego (they secretly don't really regret it)

-Couldn't sing if his life depended on it

-Is SUPER good at lying but uses it for good more than anything (ex: when they were younger, he once noticed Donnie not sleeping for a few days so he pretended to have a nightmare and asked Dee to come sleep with him to scare away the monsters. Donnie was our like a light in less than 5 minutes)

-Will do the most insane dares just for the honor

-Regularly goes to Hueso for advice

Donnie:

-Has somehow memorized every digit of pi and literally nobody understands how

-Listens to rain noises when going to sleep. Cannot stand the rain in person (it gets his tech wet)

-Is fantastic at making digital music and makes songs inspired by people and events in his life. He's also not great at singing but wow this man can rap

-Shouts "the floor is lava" at random intervals to see his brothers scramble

-Is the only family members with a driver's license

-Records EVERYTHING and due to this, he puts together people's compliments about him into a playlist and listens to them to either build his ego or just make himself feel better after a rough day

-^^^ Alternatively, he sometimes listens to people's insults as well. And oh boy, don'tcha know he also has the most traumatizing points in his life recorded too! We love listening to Leo sacrificing himself to the Krang over and over again

-Has organized the dishes in alphabetical order

-Really likes anime

-Keeps every gift ever given to him and organizes them neatly in his closet

-Really wants to exchange notes with Baxter Stockboy

-Has named all of his inventions and kisses them goodnight

-Experiences some side effects from controlling the Krang ship, such as tech being influenced by his emotions

-Takes and teaches dance lessons in secret (he uses a disguise)

-Is the best medic in the family and heals people's injuries after battles with assistance from Mikey who slaps bandaids on everyone

-Comes up with super elaborate comebacks to insults in his head after arguments but they all fall apart within 2 seconds of talking and it just devolves into calling people dumbdumbs

-Has an automated lab like Reagan Ridley from Inside Job (also unrelated, but they would totally be friends if they met)

-Uses humor to cope just like Leo

Raph:

-Is the only turtle brother who can genuinely sing

-Has stuffed animal play dates with Mikey's stuffed animals (they both try to keep it a secret and thinks nobody knows but EVERYONE knows and finds it hilarious)

-Collects coupons

-Has snacks stashed around the lair for snackmergencies

-Is the first one his brothers go to for comfort

-Carries his brothers at least 20% of the day

-Loves animals with all his heart but all of them hate him so Donnie made him a robo kitten when they were kids

-Volunteers to feed Repo Mantis' cat on weekends

-Cleans when he's stressed out

-Has eaten a whole watermelon in one bite, rind and all

-Constantly posts on social media but every picture is horrible quality

-Makes his brothers do team building exercises at least once every week during training

-Like Donnie, he also has side effects from the Krang attack but they instead take form in more psychological ways. He constantly questions if his thoughts are his own and if what he remembers sre nightmares or reality. He sometimes hears a voice in his mind but isn't sure if it's just an intrusive thought or something more

-Used to punch a specific spot on his wall whenever he got really excited because he can't keep his energy in so Donnie made him a special punching bag

-Loves watching Mikey cook and helping when he can

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LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANNA HEAR MORE HC'S ABOUT THESE GUYS OR OTHER CHARACTERS LIKE APRIL, DRAXUM, CASEY, ETC!!! I HAVE M A N Y.

#rottmnt #save rottmnt #rottmnt michelangelo #rottmnt leonardo #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt raphael #headcanons

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thatdisasterauthor · 4 years ago

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Rebinding paperbacks into hardbacks: a tutorial

I promised a tutorial about how I’ve been doing this, so here we go! First though, I must stress that I AM NOT A PROFESSIONAL. I am making this up as I go based on several hours of research for a single project about ten years ago. But I needed a serotonin boost from a project I didn’t have to buy anything new for, so I decided to just throw myself back into book binding.

Are there people out there with better advice? Yup. Am I doing parts of thing wrong? Probably. But I’m also having tons of fun. So goal accomplished.

Just...don’t do this with any books you adore/rare books without digging deeper into the more professional side of this. Just for fun, okay? Okay.

This will be a pretty long post, so most of it will be under a cut!

First up: Supplies.

Your book! For this tutorial I’m using a copy of The Raven Boys by Maggie Stiefvater because I’ve ended up with three copies of it, so it’s perfect for this project.

Some clean scrap paper.

A cutting mat. If you don’t have one you can use some scrap corrugated cardboard (probably best to have a couple layers, if you do it this way), however the mat is nice because it has angles marked on it which will be important for later.

Rubber cement. (Technically, spray glue would probably be better, but I didn’t have any spray glue so it would’ve violated my rule of “do not spend anything on this project.)

Craft glue.

Ruler.

Scissors.

Creasing tool. Alternatively, a pen with a flat, slightly rounded bottom edge can work well too.

Sandpaper.

Pencil

Water cup.

Ribbon, if you want to do a bookmark.

Papertowels.

Paint pallet you don’t mind getting glue on. A sturdy paper plate works fine too.

A charm for your bookmark, if you want one.

Some kind of book board to form your covers. You can use a lot of things for this including thick, sturdy, non-corrugated cardboard, cereal box cardboard glued together in layers, wood, or actual book board that you purchase online. I am using some chipboard that was used to stabilize and protect something I ordered online. It works FANTASTICALLY. I always hang onto this stuff when I get a package that has it.

Some brushes you aren’t afraid to ruin with glue.

Heavy duty box cutter (if you’re using wood, you may need some sort of saw).

Exacto knife.

Something to form your spine. Again, you have a lot of options here. I am using some faux-leather I had laying around, which I’ve found works best. If you use a regular fabric you’ll have to hem it, and use a fabric friendly glue that won’t come up through the fabric, which is not covered here.

3-4 sheets of scrapbook paper. Thicker cardstock papers work best for their sturdiness, but you can use lighter weight papers as well, you just have to be careful how you glue things so the lighter papers don’t warp.

Letter stickers if you want to do a title on on the cover. There’s lots of other ways to do titles, though, so it’s up to you.

(sorry, forgot to add this in the picture) 6 small binder clips. Like, the half inch sized ones.

(No picture again, sorry!) Something heavy to set on top of your book while it is drying. I just used a box of acrylic paints.

Whew. Okay, onto the actual tutorial.

Step one: Measure and cut your boards.

Measure your book, and then add 1/8-1/4inch to each side EXCEPT the spine. So, if your book is 5x8inches, you’ll want to measure out 5.25x8.5inches. The 1/8-1/4inch part is up to you. I prefer to do 1/4 inch because I like to see a bit of the endpapers even when the book is closed.

Cut out two of these rectangles from your cover material using a ruler to guide the cut and your boxcutter. With chipboard, this will likely take several cuts. I put about half an inch between each rectangle just so that if I mess up a cut I’ll only ruin one of the rectangles, not both.

Congrats, you now have your two covers! Sand down any stray bits on the edges from cutting and you’re good to go. At this point, you can do whatever you want to the things. Paint them. Collage on them. Paper them. Woodburn them. Totally up to you. Just remember, at least half an inch of the spine side will be covered by your spine material, and the insides will be covered by your endpapers, so don’t put anything important there! For this tutorial we’ll only be covering the paper wrapping method, but you really can do whatever you like.

Step 2: Wrap ‘em in pretty paper.

If you are using lighter paper, you’ll use rubber cement for this step. If you are using thicker cardstock, you can use craft glue, but it MUST be watered down (about 1part glue, 2parts water in your paint tray). If you have a printer that is big enough for scrapbook paper, you can also print titles onto the paper before you attach it to the boards. This is what I did for Hunger Pangs. If you do this, you just have to be very careful with your positioning when placing the board so that your title lines up properly!

Take your first sheet of cover paper and lay it face down. Then, take one of your cover boards and apply an even coat of glue all across one face. Plop that down on the boring side of your scrapbook paper, with a couple inches of room on each side, and press it firmly for a couple minutes.

Next, trim down your paper with the exacto knife so it is even on all sides. I honestly just lay my ruler against the edge of the board, then cut along the other edge of the ruler. Quick and easy, no measuring required, and it will be exactly the same every time.

Now trim off all the corners at a 45degree angle, leaving about 1/8inch between the corner of your board and the cut. This is where the cutting mat comes in handy, since it already has these angles marked for you. If you don’t have one, you can just measure out the angles on your own.

Now, use the smoothing tool of choice to carefully and gently fold over each of your edges. Emphasis on gently. Then, using the same glue you used to secure the front side, glue down the edges one at a time. You’ll probably have to hold them in place for a minute or two to make sure they stick.

Congrats on completing the first cover! Now repeat the process for the other one. Again, you can do whatever you want to it at this point. I added a second layer of paper feathers to mine because, well, it’s the Raven Cycle. Feathers and trees.

Step 3: Attach the book.

Lay your backcover down in the proper position, and coat it with watered down craft glue (not rubber cement). For this you want your glue a little thicker, so about 1part glue 1part water. Don’t go quite all the way to the edges, except on the spine side.

Apply book. Make sure it is centered top/bottom, and the spine of the book is lined up with the spine side of your board. Press firmly, then put your weighted box/other books/whatever, on top and let dry for at least fifteen minutes.

Next, apply glue to the front cover of the book, and attach your new cover on top. Again, make sure everything lines up properly, then press firmly for a few minutes before putting your weights on top. Let dry for an hour.

Step 4: Give it some spine.

You can work on this during the hour your book is drying. I’m doing this with faux leather (which, I know, evil plastic, hissssss. But it was what I had laying around in my art hoard from before I knew how crappy faux leather is. Better to use it than throw it out).

Measure the width of your book with the two new covers included. Then add 3/4inches to the width on each side. Measure the length of your book, and then add 2x whatever you added when you cut out your boards to each end. So if you added 1/4inch to each edge in that step, add 1/2inch at the top and bottom each in this step. If you added 1/8inch in that step, add 1/4inch in this step.

Cut that baby out using scissors. (You can also add more than 3/4inches to the width of your new spine, it just depends on the look you’re going for. You can also have fun with the edges, rather than making them straight, as long as you keep that 3/4inches as your minimum and expand out from there.)

Once you’ve given your book its hour of drying time, remove the weights. Using a line of pure craft glue, secure the first edge of your spine in place. Make sure it is centered with an even amount hanging over the top and bottom. Only about 1/2inch of the long edge of the leather should be in contact with the book. Put the weight back on top and let sit for about fifteen minutes.

If you want to attach a ribbon bookmark, now is the time, after that 15 minutes of drying. Cut out your ribbon about 4 inches longer than your book, apply the charm if you want to, and then glue about two inches of it to the outside of the paperback’s original spine using pure craft glue.

Flip your book, and glue down the other side of your new spine the same way, making sure it is even with the front cover. Don’t pull it too tight, or it will keep your book from closing properly. Place it back under your weight and let dry for an hour.

Once dry, apply a line of pure craft glue to the little bit hanging off one end. Don’t make it too thick! Just enough to cover the leather well.

Now fold over the leather so it wraps around to the inside, and use the binder clips to hold it in place. Wipe off any excess glue that gets pushed out, then let dry for an hour.

Step 5: Endpapers!

While that’s drying, cut out your endpapers! You’ll likely only need one piece of scrapbook paper for this, but it depends on the size of your book and if you want to do anything special with the pattern you’re using. Again, if you want to you can use your printer to put text on these.

If you want to have your endpaper covering BOTH the inside of the cover and the first page of the book (and the last page/inside of the cover for the back) you’ll have to do some careful measuring to cut things out and you will need two pieces of scrapbook paper for this. But I like to keep things simple and just cover the insides of the covers, not the first/last pages too, so I just use two simple rectangles. You’ll want to cut them about 1/16inches SHORTER than the measurements of your new covers.

Once the spine is done drying, remove the binder clips and check that your endpapers fit properly and aren’t hanging over the edge. You may have to trim them slightly. Once the size is right, glue them into place using rubber cement. Use your smoothing tool to press down the edges. Do this for the front and back. Put back under weight for another hour.

You’re done!

Congrats on your new book! Enjoy it.

#Bookbinding #Tutorial #Art #My Art #The Raven Boys #Red White and Royal Blue #Red White & Royal Blue #hunger pangs: true love bites #Long Post

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bitsandbobsandstuff · 4 years ago

Text

The Midnight Coconuts

Summary: Bucky and his girl take a trip to the grocery store. Several things are involved, including coconuts, a 25cent gum-ball machine, Avengers branded Jell-O, chocolate milk straight from the jug, and tampons. Characters: Bucky x Reader Words: 3k Warnings: Some swearing. Insane levels of fluff. Dangerously adorable Bucky. One (1) random reference to Not Another Teen Movie.

A/N: Listen, I will never be over silly domestic Bucky! I originally started this story before TFATWS came out and when I imagined Sam had a niece, so just go with it. Part of me wrote this, because I needed to convince myself that I love grocery shopping (one can only eat takeaway and Trader Joe’s Orange Chicken for so long) and the other part wrote this because I firmly believe domestic routines can be the most romantic adventures out there.

When the doors to the grocery store whoosh open with a gust of stale manufactured air, Bucky skids to an abrupt and dramatic stop.

“WAIT!”

Behind him, you stumble in panic, fumbling with an armful of reusable grocery bags. Instantly you’re imagining spilled blood and stab wounds and clean ups on aisle three and god dammit, how can there be a problem? This is a grocery store at midnight on a Wednesday. Shouldn’t the forces of evil be sleeping? Why is it so impossible to get a day off work? Don’t they know you need rest? And peanut butter? And that you’re dangerously low on toilet paper?

The forces of evil are the worst.

Raising weary fists, you huff.

“What? Where is it?”

Bucky sidesteps toward a row of small red and green machines beside the entrance, falling to his knees and smushing his nose eagerly against the glass. Reaching a hand behind him, there are several impatient grabby motions, before he glances back.

“Babe, can you give me a quarter? I need a gum-ball.”

Planting a sneaker clad foot on his ass, you shove. Hard.

“Bucky, we talked about this. Remember how you agreed to lower the drama and keep things in perspective? I thought we were under attack.”

“If I don’t get a green gum-ball,” he declares dramatically, “there will be an attack.”

Throwing the cloth bags at his face, you stomp off to retrieve a shopping cart, plunking your purse in the front and hunching over the handlebars.

“I thought you said you were a millionaire now. Buy your own gum-ball.”

Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Like I carry loose change,” he scoffs. “C’mon, just one quarter. Please?”

This time, he gives you the Look. That patented Bucky Barnes stare, with the wide eyes and full pouty lips and faux innocent expression, and if this man wasn’t the love of your life you’d quite happily stab him in the heart.

Instead, you open your purse and fish out a quarter, flinging it at his frustratingly pretty face. It bounces off his forehead and he scoops it up with a grin.

“So just to clarify. You came to the grocery store covered in knives, but you forgot to bring money?”

Giving you an indulgent smile, he jams the quarter into the slot. With a twist and shake, a gum-ball rattles free, and Bucky crows with delight when he sees the green candy. He pops it in his mouth.

“I didn’t forget. I made a conscious decision to remove the temptation. If I bring cash, I’ll spend it. You know I ain’t great with that whole self control thing.”

“How encouraging to hear, from the man with knives pouring out his ass.”

Jumping to his feet, he throws an arm around your shoulders.

“Ass knives sound painful.”

“Depends on how sharp they are,” you mumble, pulling a carefully folded sheet of paper from your jacket.

“Excuse you? My knives are always perfectly sharpened, thank you very much. What kind of expert assassin runs around with dull knives? Damn baby, it’s like you don’t even know me.”

Ignoring him, you flatten out the paper and smooth the edges, sighing happily at the block letters and structured diagrams drawn in deep blue ink.

Here it is, your masterpiece. A monument to productivity. The gold standard by which all optimization models should be benchmarked. This isn’t just any list, this is The List.

Everything is grouped, first by aisle, then by product location within the aisle, and then from top to bottom shelf order, to maximize efficiency. This is the dream list. The kind that inspires jealousy. The kind people hold up at TED talks when they talk about time management techniques. Marie Kondo wishes she had this list.

Bucky snorts when he sees the carefully printed boxes.

“God, you’re such a square,” he says adoringly. He plants a sugary wet kiss on your temple and you grind an elbow into his ribs.

“We discussed this, Bucky. Don’t mock my lists.”

“Sorry babe, I ain’t mocking. Your lists are beautiful, they always get me all hot and bothered,” he agrees, dipping lower to lick behind your ear. “And I really love that list you keep with all those dirty, filthy, sex things you wanna do to me.”

“I don’t have a list like that.”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky sighs, “and I don’t know how many more hints I can drop here.”

Reaching under his shirt, you rub his belly consolingly. “Okay then. This weekend I’ll sit down and make you a special list. One so disgusting and dirty and depraved, it would make Wade Wilson cry.”

Bucky laughs and squeezes you tighter.

“About damn time honey. I’m equally parts terrified and horny. So where’re we headed first?”

“Produce,” you answer promptly, plowing forward, Bucky still chuckling beside you.

The whole scenario was ironic, actually. There was no need to grocery shop - automatic ordering mechanisms across the Avengers tower rendered the task meaningless - but sometimes it was a welcome relief to partake in such an ordinary thing. Unable to sleep after one particularly terrible mission, you found yourself wandering the aisles of your 24-hour supermarket, dressed in pineapple adorned pajama pants and one of Bucky’s rattier sweatshirts, searching for ice cream. The unexpected symmetry of products arranged along the shelves, the rainbow hued produce, the hint of baking bread wafting from the ovens, all those everyday trappings of normality, they washed over like a soothing balm. Soon enough, the boiling bad thoughts simmered to nothing more than a cache of blurry memories.

When you got home, sleep came fast, deep and dreamless.

One month later, the idea struck again.

After 36 hours of Bucky tossing and turning, dark shadows bruising beneath weary blue eyes, you took his hand and led him down the dark street for a midnight adventure. He was skeptical, disbelieving that something so simple could chase away the insomnia. But he dutifully followed you, strolling aimlessly through the aisles, throwing odds and ends into the cart.

The tension gradually eased, he began to relax, and suddenly?

He was hooked.

An hour later, after arguing the health benefits of frosted Cheerios over oatmeal, poking each hunk of cheese in the display, and loading the cart with every single flavor of spaghetti sauce on the shelf, the heavy weight of remembering began to ease. When he collapsed into bed, he slept for eight hours straight.

I don’t know what that was, he swore the next morning, munching through his third bowl of frosted Cheerios, but it was magic.

And with that, a midnight ritual was born. Sometimes you make the trek alone, sometimes Bucky does the same, but whenever life permits you go together. This small slice of domesticity brings a warm comfort to this strange life.

There is no doubt, this is your favorite area of the entire store.

Barrels filled with tart oranges and smooth red apples. Tables piled high with bananas, some just shy of yellow, others sunshine perfect, and a few with speckles of black (which are the best). Shelves lining the walls, overflowing with bundles of herbs and lettuce, all coated in a fine layer of mist.

Bliss.

Heading straight for the apples, you plunge into the Gala pile, rummaging until you come up with ten perfect ones. Peaches follow, fingers rubbing along the delicate pinky-orange fuzz. Squeeze, smell, squeeze, smell. Five are chosen for a pie (Sam pleaded shamelessly until you agreed to make him one), and in the cart they go. Heading toward the wall of herbs, you’re reaching for the basil when a metallic bang makes you jump. Spinning around, you find Bucky lobbing coconuts into the cart.

“We need these.”

“We really don’t, Buck. I hate coconut, it tastes like suntan lotion.”

“They’re not for eating,” he grabs an apple, wipes it on his shirt, and takes a juicy bite. “They’re for security.”

Sticky juice drips from his lip, catching in his beard. When you reach over to swipe it away, he nips your finger with a grin.

“Explain please.”

“See it’s like this. We’re just here shopping, doin’ our thang -”

“Don’t say thang.”

“- when someone attacks. What happens? BAM. One of these furry beauties breaks their face. Problem solved.”

Giving him a slow perusal, you raise an eyebrow.

“Were the 47 knives you’re carrying not enough to deflect this attack?”

Finishing off the apple in three sloppy bites, he carefully tucks the price sticker in his pocket so he can scan it before leaving and sets the mangled core beside your purse.

“Babe, these are my back-up plan. A good soldier always has a back-up plan.”

While you grab a bottle of extra-pulpy orange juice, Bucky picks two jugs of chocolate milk, snaps one open and takes a swing. Ever the thrifty shopper, he pulls a familiar bag from his back pocket, fishes out a crumpled piece of newspaper, and dangles it before you.

“Found a coupon for this,” he says gleefully. “Buy one, get one free. It’s called a BOGO. A BOGO. Hilarious, right? Fuck me, I love the future.”

Still laughing, he takes another long drink of chocolate milk and smacks his lips.

It was a lazy Sunday morning when you discovered this particular habit. Walking into the living room, you found Bucky buried in a sea of Sunday newspaper, tongue between his teeth and scissors in hand while he clipped coupons. He wasn’t picky, if it was remotely interesting, it went into the YES pile. It was one of those random things that brought him inordinate levels of joy, so of course you encouraged it. On his last birthday, you gifted him with a green zippered bag decorated with angry looking owls and official looking letters stitched across the front:

Bucky’s Coupon Bag Thriftn’ Machine Since 1917

He laughed for five straight minutes and then stuffed it full. The bag accompanies you on every trip and the sight of Bucky excitedly rifling through his wad of coupons still makes your heart swell.

Setting aside his BOGO, Bucky continues down the aisle, leaving you to pause in front of the yogurt. While you contemplate the merits of blackberry vs strawberry, Bucky slides over holding three cans of Reddi-Whip.

“Are you actually planning to eat that? I thought you said whipped air is for, and I quote, ‘spineless, tasteless trash heathens’?”

Bucky shakes the can of spray whipped cream and wiggles his eyebrows, leveling you with a sultry stare.

“Hell no I’m not eating it. This is for the bedroom. Last week I watched this god-awful movie where some blond guy - who looked exactly like Steve, by the way - made himself a whipped cream bikini for his girl. Decided I’m gonna do that for you. You’re welcome.”

“That sounds gross and unsanitary.”

“If by gross and unsanitary you mean spicy and sexy, then yes. Yes it does.”

Whistling what sounds like the theme music from a bad porn, he adds two tubs of honey swirled Greek yogurt, pats your butt, and strolls ahead, throwing a roughish wink over his shoulder. Imagining the melted whipped cream soaking into your bedsheets, you mentally add more laundry detergent to the list.

“Hang on, turn here.”

Tugging the cart behind him, Bucky stalks toward the feminine hygiene display. It takes him a minute to scan the products before squatting down to the bottom shelf. Grabbing two jumbo boxes of tampons, oddly enough the brand you prefer, he pops back to his feet.

“Dare I ask why you need these?”

A faint pink flush crawls up his neck.

“Well, you know, two reasons. They’re really great for stopping bloody noses, you know? Just poke ‘em up there and they soak it all up.”

He mimes the execution and adds a thumbs up.

“And the second reason?”

Squinting at his boots, he shuffles his feet a bit. The pink flush deepens.

“Um, you know - I know you’re out, since I stuck the last one up Steve’s nose last week, and yeah. Anyway. It’s about that time. Of the month. For you.”

Clearing his throat, he reaches for his chocolate milk, but you grab his wrist.

“You know when my period’s going to start?”

He shrugs self-consciously and fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt.

“Well yeah. You think it’s just a coincidence when all your favorite candy shows up every month?” Looking up, he shoots you a crooked smile and leans over the cart to kiss your forehead. Grabbing a fistful of his shirt, you haul him in for a real kiss instead and his startled laughter tickles your lips. When you break away, those bright blue eyes are shining.

“Thank you, Bucky,” you murmur.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he whispers.

This is the aisle where the cart officially explodes.

Lasagna noodles.

Egg noodles.

Spaghetti noodles.

Penne.

Linguine.

Fettuccine.

Literally one of every noodle is selected, because Bucky Barnes is a self-proclaimed noodle slut.

As you organize the boxes and search for orzo, you see him furtively add an extra bag of elbow macaroni. A quiet cough hides your laughter.

The last time Sam’s four-year-old niece came to the tower, she and Bucky spent hours making glittery elbow macaroni necklaces, which they ceremoniously gifted to everyone. When Sam casually mentioned her enthusiastically telling everyone at pre-school about her friend Bucky and how much fun she had visiting him, Bucky ran to a craft store and bulk bought supplies of glue, string, paint, and glitter, just in case she comes over again.

Months later and the entire team are still finding puddles of glitter all over the tower, but the delight on Bucky’s face anytime someone mentions that arts and crafts afternoon?

It’s worth the mess.

Gathering up brown sugar, instant oats, and chocolate chips, you turn to drop them in the cart when Bucky makes a strangled noise. Glancing over, you find him bouncing on his toes, vibrating with excitement.

“Babe. Babe. Are you making monster cookies?”

Adding a can of raisins, you search for the good vanilla. The kind that actually tastes like vanilla, not a cheap car wash air freshener.

“I promised I would,” you remind him. Bucky plasters himself against your back, wrapping you in an enthusiastic hug and nuzzling his face against your neck.

“I love those fucking cookies,” he declares. “They’re my favorite thing ever. Next to you I mean.”

Finding the vanilla, you spin in his arms and return the squeeze.

“I know you do. But you have to share them this time, okay? You can’t just eat them all yourself like the last two times. Agree?”

“Agree…to disagree. They’re wasted on other people, no one else loves as much. It’s for the best when I eat them all, it’s proof how much I love you. I’m doing it for you. I’m supporting you. Because I love you.”

“You’re completely full of shit,” you reply.

“I swear I’m not! Just listen!”

The excuses grow longer and wilder as Bucky outlines his rationale against sharing, walking backward and dragging the cart with him as he pleads his case. He’s diving into the science of super soldier metabolism levels and caloric requirements and the fact that his sister never shared anything with him, when he bumps into a tall display.

He pulls up short, eyes narrowing. Plunking his fists on his hips, he growls a disgruntled sigh and glares at the rows of packaging.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

Lined up in neat rows, you see boxes of Jell-O organized by color and flavor. On the cover of each are an assortment of familiar images.

“Are these Avengers themed Jell-O?” you ask, picking up a box with Sam’s image and the words Wild Berry Wilson. The rows extend further, filled with Lime Green Hulk and Blue Raspberry Rogers and Black Cherry Widow and Strawberry Lemon Stark. Exasperated, Bucky grabs the Sparkling Orange Spider flavor.

“Is this for real? The kid gets one and I didn’t? Someone in PR is getting fired.”

“Well there’re only so many flavors, Buck,” you point out practically, but Bucky’s not in the mood for logic. Instead, he swipes an entire shelf of Jell-O flavors into the cart.

“I swear to god, I have to do everything around here. Fine then. I’ll make my own flavor, Blackberry Kiwi Soldier or Winter Watermelon Rainbow, or something.” He pauses thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’ll work on the name. But I’m bringing it to dinner tomorrow night and everyone is gonna eat it.”

He dumps in a bag of mini-marshmallows and grabs sprinkles for topping, before marching down the aisle. Cringing at the volume of sugar in the cart, you make another mental note to schedule a dentist appointment.

“Go do your manly duty and find the meat. We need two 5lb rump roasts.”

“I like your rump roast,” he instantly responds and reaches over to smack your butt again. Anticipating the move, you catch his arm and twist it behind his back. He barks out a breathless laugh and you slap his ass in return.

“Your innuendos are tragic.”

Releasing him with a gentle shove, Bucky snatches up his three coconuts and ambles away, laughing while he juggles them. When he returns, he has the requested rump roasts, several packages of bacon, and a bundle of cocktail shrimp.

“If my innuendos get better, then can I touch your butt?”

“Maybe. But they better be real good.”

An added benefit to shopping at midnight? Not a soul in line.

Loading everything onto the conveyer belt, you automatically organize for bagging. Boxes together, produce together, meat together. Bucky adds a pack of batteries, a tin of mints, and some trashy magazines.

The last three items in the cart are his coconuts. They rattle around until you toss them at him, motioning back to the produce department.

“We made it out alive. Go put them back.”

Still chomping his tasteless green gum-ball, he shakes his head and plops them down.

“Nah, I have another idea for them. Got all those craft supplies at home, I’m gonna make you something.”

“Should I even ask?”

Bucky blows a huge, wet bubble and looks you up and down.

“Have you every worn one of those coconut bras? Like on TV, with the ladies in grass skirts? I’m gonna make you one. I already have string and glue. And glitter.”

“I think you may be overestimating your crafting abilities.” Digging out your credit card, you wait for the final tally.

“Well, if it’s terrible then you’ll just be naked. Either way, I win.”

Shaking out your grocery sacks, he packs everything with Tetris-like efficiency and slides all of them up the vibranium arm.

“How about I make you a deal. I’ll wear a coconut bra, if you’ll make yourself something to wear as well.”

Bucky blows another sugary bubble, pondering the idea.

“Like a coconut man thong?”

“Exactly like a coconut man thong.”

“Deal. Add it to that special dirty list you’re making me honey. We got loads to do.”

Outside, the night air smells sweet and cool, the barest hint of a spring rain and fresh grass lingering on the breeze. Already, your eyes are feeling heavy, tonight’s quiet adventure ushering in that sought after peace.

In your right hand, the three coconuts swing gently in their plastic sack. Humming under his breath, Bucky yawns, reaching for your other hand. His warm, calloused palm squeezes tight, his thumb stroking lightly over your skin.

He turns to you with a sleepy, lopsided smile.

Midnight and coconuts.

It always does the trick.

***

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine

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cheesesteakphil · 3 years ago

Photo

BUGSNAX COMMISSIONS ARE A GO AGAIN BAYBEY!

Current status: CLOSED (Re-Opening on July 1st!)

Slots:

1: TAKEN

2: TAKEN

3: TAKEN

4: TAKEN

5: TAKEN

Finally in a comfortable enough position to open up long term commissions for bugsnax folk! Wanted to keep to my original selection of cheaper sketches/icon stickers as well as options for full detailed/colored images. Now that I’m not needing to do these for emergency funds I have the time and energy to create full size pictures. To make sure I don’t get overwhelmed I am using slots, the amount may change over time depending on how many orders I feel I can comfortably take on at once.

Now, the background charge, not a common thing I know but hear me out. I am primarily a character artist, and I do take a little bit longer for backgrounds so felt it necessary to adjust my prices to reflect that extra time needed. So if you aren’t interested in having all the fancy background stuff, I will just be providing commissions with plain and simple colored backgrounds.

Feel free to send me a DM if you’re interested or have any questions!

If you’d like to see more examples of my work, my art tag is HERE

TOS:

- I reserve the right to refuse any commission.

- You cannot use the final commission for commercial use.

- You cannot mint ANY work as NFT’s (This includes any progress shots that are sent)

- If required, reference pictures for original characters must be provided.

- Up to 2 major changes to the piece can be made. Otherwise a £5 fee will be added per addition change.

- You may post your final piece anywhere, as long as credit is provided.

- Wait period for pieces may vary between 1-3 weeks.

- Payment must be made in FULL before starting the commission.

- Payment must be done via Paypal in GBP (Great British Pound)

- Regular progress shots will be provided throughout the commission process for approval to ensure total customer satisfaction.

- Refunds will only be provided if I am unable to complete the commission for any reason.

- Discount if you order a commission with Floofty in it lol (I am serious about that)

#commission #commissions #bugsnax #doodlerama #digital art #character art

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amysteriousmessenger · 4 years ago

Note

May I request some fluff RFA headcanons? 🥺🥺

I hope these are okay!! I added Saeran and V just for the sake of it!! <3 these will be a random mixture of with and without MC!

Random Fluffy RFA + Saeran and V Headcanons

Yoosung Kim Fluffy Headcanons

He asks you to marry him in LOLOL, since there’s an expansion pack where you can set up a little house for extra storage. He gets really nervous and a bit sweaty about asking you to do it, he takes it oddly seriously and Zen almost passed out when he thought that you were actually engaged.

He tries to make you coffee every morning, especially if he’s trying a new style out. He thinks it’s really fun and he loves to greet you with it for breakfast. After a while, you come to associate the faint smell of coffee with Yoosung.

At the start he starts sneakily using little bits of your shower gel because they smell so much nicer than the one his gamer student budget allows him to buy. Eventually, he’ll just cave and buy a bottle of the one that you use because it means he gets to be reminded of you all day and it’s a lot better for his skin anyway.

If you play with his hair when his head is in your lap, he’ll absolutely fall asleep. Yoosung is a little bit like a puppy in that way, it just makes him feel so happy and loved.

Zen/Hyun Ryu Fluffy Headcanons

Zen’s a big person for morning kisses, especially sleepy ones. He’s an early riser and definitely feels extra needy in the morning. He’s also always the big spoon, he likes to feel as though he’s protecting you even when he’s asleep.

Whenever you’re crying and cover your face so he can’t see, Zen’s the kinda person who would gently pull your arms away so he can get a look at you and figure out what’s wrong. He’ll kiss at your eyes and cheeks until you either stop crying, or let him get close enough to pull you in so you can cry on his chest.

He loves doing skincare on you. If he thinks you’ve had a hard week, he’ll do your moisturiser, clay mask, face mask, eye mask- you name it, Zen wants to pamper you with it. He knows the importance of skincare and he thinks it’s a great way to relax and pamper you.

Zen’s ‘Happy Place’ that he thinks of when he gets stressed is the two of you, beers in hand, spending an evening in the kitchen trying to cook food. He can hear the laughter, smell the ever-so-slightly burning food, taste the traces of beer on your lower lip. It just makes him so happy to think about and he can feel the desperation in his limbs to sprint home at full speed and make the daydream real.

Jaehee Kang Fluffy Headcanons

Saturday mornings are Jaehee’s favourite out of the whole week. She’s just worked 5 hellish days and Saturday is the day where she gets to have a bit of a lie-in. Usually, Jumin doesn’t ask her to come into the office on weekends and it’s usually just a case of working from home. Jaehee tries not to oversleep too much because she doesn’t want to throw off her schedule but sometimes she can’t help but pass out for 10 hours straight and undisturbed.

She really enjoys bubble baths with you. When you first start doing it together, she’s a little shy at being seen undressed so intimately, but she still really enjoys the time alone with you. It’s a great way to unwind and she likes being so close to you.

Jaehee isn’t much of a cuddler when she’s asleep, she tends to just sleep flat on her back out of exhaustion. However, if you wake up for any reason during the night, you’ll frequently find her hand holding yours, whether she did it consciously or not.

She collects really nice and cute stationary. She doesn’t really take them to work because she doesn’t want to be seen as unprofessional, but once she runs the coffee shop, she gets to write in her little hot-drinks-themed stationary and decorates the little cups with tiny stickers for the frequent customers and especially for whenever Zen comes to visit.

Jumin Han Fluffy Headcanons

Sunday mornings are Jumin’s favourites. He usually wakes up really early by routine, but on Sundays he spends a little bit longer curled up in bed with you and Elizabeth the Third, watching you both sleep. Jumin’s also usually the big spoon if he’s sleeping on his side, but when he sleeps on his back he typically still has one arm around your waist so you’re pulled next to him with your head on his chest.

He personally donates to many different cat shelters all over the country. He takes the money straight out of his own bank account and gives generous monthly donations to make sure that there’s enough funding to both feed the cats already there, and take in extra cats of the streets along with getting them adopted. Jumin’s staff actually has a company policy that if they adopt a cat from one of the shelters that Jumin supports, the vet and adoption fees are covered by him, he counts it as philanthropy.

Jumin has a bottle of wine in his cellar from the date you met, the date you first kissed, the date you got engaged and the date you got married. He hasn’t quite decided when he’ll share those wines with you, he just knows at the moment that he wants to keep them for a very special occasion.

When he’s bored at work but he can’t call you because you’re busy, he pictures taking you to one of his vineyards on the weekend. He’ll picture your smile, you adjusting your hat and lightly squinting against the sun, you smiling at him over your glass of wine. Then he’ll tell Jaehee to clear his schedule for the weekend.

Saeyoung Choi Fluffy Headcanons

Your arms around him, holding him against you, is pretty much the only thing that can bring Seven out of an anxiety attack. If you’re not physically with him, he crawls under the duvet on his bed in hopes of still smelling you. He’ll call you and look through selfies with you that he has on his phone until he calms down.

Seven frequently tries to make you food. He’s never had to cook for anyone before and he doesn’t really cook for himself, so it’s a lot of trial, error and frustrated takeaways. You try to eat whatever he makes though because you can really tell that he’s put his heart into it and you want to show him that you appreciate the effort he’s making.

He loves you feeling his biceps and gushing over how strong he is. He’s not even particularly ripped but you can tell he has strength in his limbs and seeing you give him any kind of physical approval makes him m e l t instantly.

He’s both the big and little spoon, depending what mood he is in. Sometimes he wants to hold you close and never let go, but sometimes Seven needs a little bit of support too and want to feel like he’s needed by you.

His absolute favourite dates are the arcades, the cinema, bowling and carnivals. He has far too much fun on the bumpercars and he absolutely has it out for you, you spend most of the time trying to escape him.

GE Saeran Choi Fluffy Headcanons

GE Saeran always makes very over the top hot chocolates for the both of you. He has an arsenal of whipped cream, syrups, chocolate shavings and sprinkles. His hot chocolate is better than any you could buy in a store. He’ll make one for you whenever you ask, and then sometimes just to surprise you if it looks like you’re having a bad day.

GE Saeran ends up getting two cavities in his first few years of living freely. He does look after his teeth, but he let his sweet-tooth go little bit wild with all the new foods he got to try, it was all so new and fun to him, he just wanted to try everything! He took much better care of his teeth after that, but the trip to the dentist was quite a weird one since he’d never been before.

Slight Angst: Saeran always serves your food first and makes sure there’s always extra helpings if you want it. He usually puts a little bit more on your plate than what you would usually eat. He never quite gets over the guilt of taking your food away at Magenta, so he spends the rest of his time making sure you have more than enough to eat now.

He likes to constantly buy you little gifts that he sees when he’s out and about that remind him of you. A little notebook in your favourite colour? A little forget-me-not necklace? A candle that smells like your perfume? He’d added them all to his cart.

After lip kisses, Saeran loves giving cheek and hand kisses to you. For him, he really loves getting head kisses and he thinks it’s extra cute when you plant a little kiss onto the tip of his nose.

V/Jihyun Kim Fluffy Headcanons

V usually wakes up first, unless he was working late in his studio. He wakes you up with a kiss to the forehead, a cup of coffee and soft words. After he’s put your drink on the table, he’ll climb back into bed with you and cuddle until you’re properly awake.

He actually enjoys baking with you. Well, he likes to help you bake and then he gets to do the decorating. You usually bring a cake to any RFA hangouts and it’s always very obvious when V’s helped you bake because it feels like he goes out of his way to put a piece of gallery-worthy art onto a cake with food colourings and icings. He thinks it makes it tastes better, and you have to agree.

In recent years, V’s been considering trying a more plant-based diet. He thinks he’d like to try vegetarianism, but he’s frequently spend periods of time as a pescatarian, especially after he’s come back from travelling. It also means that he gets to practice cooking more too.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #saeran choi #saeyoung choi #jihyun kim #jumin han #yoosung kim #jaehee kang #zen mystic messenger #hyun ryu #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger hcs #saeran choi x reader #jumin han x reader #mystic messenger reader insert #mystic messenger self insert

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harryspet · 4 years ago

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off to the races (2) s.rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stripper!reader, ddlg, daddy!steve, abduction/kidnapping, mafia boss steve, bondage, a hint of peter x reader, toxic/abusive relationship, hella angst, little editing

A/N: im mentally shutting down because of school but at least i have mob!steve :)

In which you don’t want to be Daddy’s secret anymore.

word count: 3.5k

main masterlist

taglist: @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @disaster-rose @sexyxseabassx @marvelmaree

“Woah, dude, your room is awesome. Awe, you have all the good movies. I haven’t seen The Jungle Book in forever!”

“Peter, look!” You waved him over to the window, ignoring his astonishment for the paradise Steve had created for you. Peter stood there dumbly for a moment before walking over to the window beside your bed.

You heard the loud whirring of helicopter spinning blades echoing through the room even with the window closed. It was landing in the field behind the manor and you were questioning why Steve was making such a grand entrance today. You’d been stuck in this house for three weeks now and nothing this exciting had happened yet, “Who’s helicopter is that?” You looked back at Peter who’d crossed his arm nervously.

“Uhm … probably … maybe-” You scoffed, before looking back at the view. The helicopter was a sleek, black color and, as you narrowed, your eyes could make out some words written in gold.

“Stuh …. Stark …. Industries. Stark Industries,” You were calm as you took in the info before the realization hit you, “Stark Industries! Is Tony Stark here? Holy …. pancakes.”

Peter smiled, seemingly amused by your excitement, “Pancakes?”

“Steve doesn’t like it when I-” You stopped yourself from explaining, realizing there was a bigger situation at hand, “We have to go check things out. Get a closer look!”

“No way,” Peter shook his head, “I’m here to make sure you stay in this room.”

You rolled your eyes, “So Tony Stark must be here then, right?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Peter pressed his lips together like he was struggling to hold in all the secrets he knew.

“How the hell does Steve know Tony Stark? Stark is dirty too? I should’ve known … flipping rich people.”

“Flipping?”

You took a step toward him and despite the fact you were wearing a pair of fairy wings, he still seemed intimidated by you, “What do you want, huh? A raise?”

“Uhm … I don’t think you can do that … can you?”

“Of course I can. Steve is wrapped around my finger.”

Peter cocked an eyebrow, “But he’s Steve Rogers …”

“Look around this room for goodness sake! He does anything I want. If I tell him all about how you’re a great worker, how you’re a good friend to me, he’ll surely be appreciative. Might even give you a promotion and maybe you won't have to play babysitter anymore.”

He considers it just for a moment, “If he does anything you want then why are you locked in this house?”

“Fine, fine, so I don’t have complete control but I have some. I could be helpful to you in the future!”

“Y/N, if something went wrong he’d probably chop me up into little pieces and send them to my Aunt. Or he’d chop up my aunt and make me watch … depends on the kinda mood he’s in.”

You stared back at him, trying not to let the look on your face falter, “ … I’ll give you my movie collection?”

“I’m sorry but-”

“It’s my birthday soon?”

“I can’t,” Peter stated, sighing, “I’ve got pressure on me right now, and things have to go right tonight. It’s like a huge deal. I never get to go to stuff and the party is-” He stopped his rambling when he realized he’d said too much.

“Party?” Peter opened his mouth and closed it again. He turned away from you, eyes wide, and made his way to the door. Of course, you chased after him, placing yourself between him and the door, “What party?”

“Please move,” Peter begged, “I really can’t talk about it.”

“I won’t say anything, I promise!” You were the one begging now, “He doesn’t tell me anything at all. Can you imagine how I’m feeling? I’ll do everything you say, I won’t try anything, I just want to know what's going on …. please?”

“Steve can’t know,” You nodded eagerly and he finally gave in, probably because of your spectacular puppy dog eyes, “Tony Stark is having a party tonight, that’s where Steve’s going, and most of us are going to. A pretty important deal is happening.”

“Why doesn’t Steve want me to go?” You frowned a bit.

“I don’t think he wants anybody to know about you, to keep you safe, that kind of thing.”

“Right,” You nodded, “Even if I go crazy while he does that.”

Peter looked sympathetic, “I’m sorry.”

“I know this thing with me and Steve is not ordinary but is it crazy of me to not want to be a secret? Even after everything …”

You could tell Peter wasn’t expecting a deep question nor did he expect you’d confide in him, “I don’t think so,” Peter was trying to understand, you could see it in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he wasn’t sure, “Obviously … you - uhm - care about him. I wouldn’t want to be the secret of someone I care about.”

He was taken aback when you suddenly hugged him. Unsure if he could hug you back, he awkwardly patted your shoulder which made you giggle, “Can I paint your nails?”

“What? No.”

“I have colors that aren’t girly.” “Hmm … can you do cool stuff like the shapes and sparkles?”

“Of course,” You smiled, “Step into my salon.”

“I didn’t get my sticker this week,” You bounced back from your toes to your heels, watching Steve as he got ready in his closet. He was fixing his tie in the mirror, making sure it was absolutely perfect, along with the rest of the look. Freshly trimmed beard and an aftershave that smells intoxicating. He smelt like money and looked like it too. That’s probably exactly how you would want to look in front of Tony Stark.

“You skipped dinner two days in a row, doll.”

You were frowning but it wasn’t like he was focused on you anyways, “But I did better after that,” You whined.

“I know, baby, you can try again next week.”

“Maybe if you were here then I wouldn’t have missed it,” You whispered, playing with your fingernails, “But I’m stuck here and you get to go out and have your fun.”

“Have my fun?” He questioned, buttoning up his jacket.

“You get home so late … I’m sure you go to your clubs, booze it up and talk to girls.”

He chuckled a bit, “You think I’m flirting with other women?”

“I don’t think, I know,” You leaned against the doorway, “You’re a guy, aren’t you? That’s what you do.”

He finally turned to you, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He was as handsome as ever, like a movie star, “Doll, my days are long because I’m traveling from here to the city every day. I want to fall asleep and wake up with you. There isn’t and never will be anyone who I’d rather do that with.”

As he came closer, you knew he was going to lift you into his arms. Ever since he took you from the club and you sobbed into his shoulders, you’d find solace in his arms. Even if his hands were causing your hurting, they still felt warm and loving, “You don’t mean that,” You whispered, muffled against his shoulder.

“What can I do to prove it to you?”

“Take me with you,” You said and you felt him stiffen.

“It’s not safe,” He tried to explain.

“Are you embarrassed by me?”

“No, no,” He rushed out, carrying you out of the closet and into the bedroom. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because of what I do, what I used to do-”

“No, Y/N. I’ve never felt that way,” His tone was more concerned that it ever had been before, “Look at me, please?”

Begrudgingly, you lifted your head. You hated that you were feeling jealous or inadequate, “You took care of yourself all these years and I know you still can,” He continued, “Let me protect you now.”

“I’m not a baby.”

Steve could sense the small bit of pride still left in you and decided not to push you on it anymore, “Could’ve fooled me,” Steve smiled slightly, bouncing you in his arms, “Let me tuck you in, grumpy.”

“The sun just set!”

“It wasn’t actually a request,” He was already carrying you away.

“Wait, wait, wait,” You resisted, “Can I sleep in here? I’ll go to sleep right away, I promise.”Steve stopped, thinking it over for a moment, “I like that the … sheets smell like you, Daddy,” You added, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t fully a lie but you had other motives for not wanting to go back to your room. For one, your room locked from the outside and his didn’t. Besides that, you were almost sure that one of your stuffed bears had a camera inside its eye.

Steve tucked you into his california king-sized bed that night and watched you fall asleep until it was time for him to go. You felt the kiss he pressed to your forehead and, for a brief moment, you thought about changing your plans.

That feeling didn’t last long.

For such an expensive car, you thought your ride would be a lot smoother and much more comfortable. Turns out, hiding in any trunk, no matter how luxurious, behind big boxes of unknown items, was not a pleasant experience. An hour into the drive, you finally decided that you’d had enough and you needed to get the feeling back into your limbs. Besides that, you needed to check and make sure that your hair and makeup stayed in place.

When you climbed over the seat from the trunk to the backseat, the car instantly swerved before the driver corrected its path, “Y/N, holy shit!” Peter shouted, obviously frightened out of his mind but you were focused on making sure all the layers of your dress made it safely back into their places, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”

“Oh, calm down,” You said, looking at him through the rearview, “Just keep driving.”

“Are you out of your mind? If Steve sees you he’s going flip his shit!”

“Peter, you okay in there, kid?” You heard Bucky’s staticky voice over Peter’s radio. The younger man picked it up and answered, his eyes still focused on you.

You placed a finger over your lips and Peter gave you a death stare, “Yeah, I’m fine … I thought I saw a squirrel.”

A caravan of three cars surrounded Steve’s car as they all drove down this dark, winding road that you assumed would lead to Tony Stark’s mansion, “Did you not comprehend a single word I said?” Peter shouted, “Do you want me to get killed?”

“This is my problem,” You said, “Steve will know that you had nothing to do with it, I promise. But tonight is going to go super well so it won’t even matter. Steve is going to see me and realize he’s crazy not to show me off and then we’re going to go to the party and I’m going to charm everyone with my personality which is going to make him a ton of friends and even more money. Everyone wins.”

Peter was shaking his head the entire time as he listened to your rambling, “Y/N, I understand that you want to be more to Steve and you don’t want to be in the dark but this isn’t the way! This isn’t some charity event or some art gala, these are dangerous people.”

“But Tony Stark-”

“Is as dirty as it gets,” Your heart began to race a bit, “And Steve cannot just let everyone know his biggest weakness, even if they are his allies.”

His biggest weakness.

Suddenly, your mind was racing with thoughts of moments with Steve. Meeting him, going on your first dates, the hotel meetings, and the passionate kisses that always left you feeling like he felt more about you than he admitted. You never saw yourself as his weakness.

I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you.

When you snapped out of your trance, Peter had his walkie-talkie pressed to his chin, “Guys, uhm, we have a stowaway,” You slumped back in your seat, and when the car eventually came to a stop, you wished you were still tucked away in Steve’s bed. You think Peter was calling your name, probably apologizing and telling you how he had to follow orders but, honestly, you had tuned him out, “I-I don’t know …. I thought I checked everything …”

Your dress was adorable too, covered in pastels, while still remaining elegant. You imagined Steve's heart with flutter at the sight of you, instead, he was fuming. He was always so stoic, so full of composure, that the change frightened you. He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you from the backseat, and slamming the door shut. Pressed against the car, you looked into those blue-green eyes that were anything except nice.

“I didn’t mean to for all this,” Was all you could muster up the courage to say, “I just wanted to come with you-”

He shushed you before you got your words out, “We’ll talk about it later.”

You wished he would just yell at you now. He could bend you over right now and you’d prefer that over his silence and the obvious disappointment in his tone, “Later? But-” He pulled you away from the car and you stumbled in your heels as he pulled you along the dark road.

He brought you towards the last car in the caravan and Sam stepped out from behind it, closing the trunk, before handing something shiny to Steve, “What are you doing?” You asked shakily, the cold wind of the night blowing your dress.

“Turn around, face the car,” He ordered you and you feared whatever punishment you were about to receive would be worse if you disobeyed him. Slowly, you turned around and he wasted no time grabbing your wrist. You heard the metal click of handcuffs as they tightened around your wrist. You felt his strong hands on your waist and, as he lifted your dress, you assumed the worst. Your panties slipped down and as Steve lowered himself with them.

“Steve, please talk to me?”

To your surprise, as you stepped out of your underwear, you felt the click of metal around your ankles. When he stood back up, he grabbed your arm again, pulling you back so you were pressed against his chest, “Daddy will deal with you later,” His breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine, “Don’t worry, doll … open your mouth.”

“If you just let me explain-”

You weren’t sure why you even wanted to. He left your brain scrambled and wondering why you even did the things that you did.

“I won’t ask you again.”

Your lips parted and you realized he was forcing your panties into your mouth. The next thing that you knew, you were lying in the back seat of that car, your wrist hogtied to your ankles. And you thought sitting in the trunk would be uncomfortable. You were struggling and calling out for him and, as you expected, you were ignored.

“Get her back as fast as you can. I’ll keep things short with Stark,” Were the last words you heard before the door shut close and all your screaming was muffled.

You weren’t sure at which point you’d fallen asleep. As you laid there tied up, you thought a lot about him since there was nothing else to think about. You weren’t sure how he could love you and be so cruel at the same time.

That next morning, you awoke to sore limbs and makeup staining your pillow. Even though the car ride back was hell, you knew your punishment wasn’t over. You debated even getting out of bed, knowing what was to come.

You finally mustered the energy to clean yourself up, washing your face, and brushing your teeth. When you stepped back into your room, you were taken aback by what was sitting in the middle of your room. A giant, life-size brown bear was happily perched before your bed, holding balloons and a Tiffany’s gift bag.

It was exactly the opposite of what you were expecting today. You approached it cautiously, decided to sit and open up the present. You handled the bag carefully, finding an elegant white card sitting inside.

For my favorite girl on her birthday.

Love, Daddy.

You sighed, knowing he probably picked all of this out before you betrayed him and probably ruined any sort of trust he had between you. You hadn’t even realized it was your birthday which was probably due to the fact that you had no phone or any contact with the outside world. There was also a jewelry box inside, a gorgeous, rose-gold tennis bracelet inside.

As you snapped it around your wrist, covering your bruises, you promised not to ask how much it cost. It would probably make you feel even worse about yesterday.

You finished getting dressed, deciding to head downstairs for breakfast. You found Steve sitting at a table out by the pool, reading through a newspaper like a grandpa. It seemed like he was expecting you because there were pancakes and eggs waiting on the table, “Morning,” You greeted awkwardly.

“Good morning, doll. Happy Birthday,” He responded, his eyes still focused on the newspaper.

“Thanks,” Taking a seat in front of him, you instantly moved to grab the syrup, but the rings on his finger caught your attention. Below, you could see his knuckles were red and purple, bruised like he’d been punching something … or someone. “Your hands …”

He folded his newspaper, taking a look at them himself. It didn’t seem to faze him as he folded them on his stomach, leaning back in his chair, “Your wrist,” He changed the subject and you wondered if he was amused by the fear in your eyes, “Do you like my gift?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, I love it … thank you,” Your mind was elsewhere, “What happened to your hands? Is that from last night?”

“Last night is a blur. I was so angry after your little stunt, I had to have a few drinks to even get through the rest of the night.”

“Really?” You tried to hold in your scoff, “You seem very chipper today.”

“Only because I get to see your beautiful face,” He countered, smirking.

Your eyes narrowed at him, “What did you do?”

“That’s a broad question-”

“Did you hurt him?”

“Him?” Steve raised an eyebrow, “You mean Peter? I thought about it … I’m still thinking about it actually. If he was smarter, yesterday would have never happened but you must’ve been pretty convincing. Poor kid, he probably thought you liked him.”

“None of it was his fault! I-I was just being stupid, I was using him and he was just trying to be a good guy. Steve, please.”

“If I did, you would probably start to actually listen. You’d never try one of those crazy stunts ever again-”

“I will listen! No more stunts, I’ll be an angel from now on,” You stood up from your chair, moving around the table, “I know you’re just trying to protect me. Peter tried to tell me that and I should’ve listened.” You grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“That’s all I want,” He added sincerely and you nodded.

“I’ll pinky promise,” With your other hand, you held out your pinky. You thought Peter would be your way out but, here you were, begging to stay in order to keep him alive. Your pinkies wrapped around each other and you climbed into his lap. You kissed the sides of his mouth before kissing his lips.

“Soon, we’ll take a trip together, I know you’re itching to get away.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You kissed his lips again, “Your hands … what actually happened?”

“Punching bag,” He easily explained although you were expecting a tale of horror. Holding his hand, you brought his fist to your lips, kissing them gently, “That probably wouldn’t have happened a year ago … I think you make me more gentle.”

“That’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think? Turning a beast into a prince.”

“For some reason, I have faith in you.”

“Peter!” You perked up as soon as he entered the living room, not realizing how grateful to see that he was still in one piece. Sam, Bucky, and Steve seemed to exchange confused glances from their places on the couch.

Peter seemed baffled as well, “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No, we’re about to watch Coco. Wanna join?”

“There’s popcorn,” Sam added, stuffing his face.

“And cookies,” Bucky chimed in.

Peter smiled, unsure, as he looked to Steve for permission, “Join us, son.”

“Awesome,” Peter clapped, making his way over to the couch, “This one always makes me cry.”

“Y/N, I thought you said this one wasn’t sad,” Bucky eyed you. You shrugged, snuggling yourself further into Steve’s side. You tried to hide a mischievous smile and act like you weren’t hoping to see three grown men tear up from a Disney movie.

“Okay, press play,” You tapped Steve’s chest and he raised the remote.

“Wait,” Steve paused, “Are all three of your nails painted?”

i’m thinking maybe i’ll make a christmas themed part 3, we shall see :)

#dark fic #dark!steve #dark!steve rogers #Steve Rogers #mob!steve #mob!stucky x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #dark steve x reader #peter parker x reader #mafia!bucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #peter parker #black!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #captain america x reader

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47crayons · 4 years ago

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so, you want to write a musician?

about me: i play viola and have experience in symphony orchestras, string orchestras, string quartets (+ a few other small ensembles), and solo performances. i've done some light composition, and have friends/family who play other instruments. while my musical history is extensive, by no means do i know everything or speak for everyone.

this guide will focus on classical music/how to portray classical musicians and things that aren't as easily researched.

quick overview of instruments in a typical symphony orchestra

upper strings (violin, viola), lower strings (cello, (double) bass; i've seen viola included here too, but it's more commonly classified as upper strings)

strings also technically includes harp and piano

woodwinds (flute, oboe, clarinet, bassoon)

depending on instrumentation, they may also have piccolo, english horn, bass clarinet, contrabassoon

saxophones are not traditionally in symphony orchestras due to it being a relative newer instrument! but this is changing because more contemporary composes are including sax parts

brass (trumpet, trombone, bass trombone, tuba, euphonium)

percussion (depends heavily on instrumentation, but common instruments are bass drum, timpani, snare, crash cymbal, xylophone, marimba)

some things you should research

where the hands are supposed to go!! i'd recommend you look at pictures of professionals in orchestra settings (ny phil, cso, berlin phil are all top tier). some musicians *coughs at yoyo ma* have less than perfect posture when they're performing solos (for the same reasons famous authors can break "rules")

necessary equipment including reeds, rockstops, different kinds of sticks/mallets, rosin, mouth pieces for whatever instrument you're writing

common misconceptions

loose/photocopied sheet music is not aesthetic—it's annoying and impossible to keep organized. folders and binders are fairly common especially when managing multiple ensembles.

original copies are often expensive and required to perform a piece (legally) for profit or otherwise (though i know a few people who have bent this rule)

not all performers are good composers (i myself have very little formal music theory training), but many composers have performance histories.

not all musicians can sing.

perfect pitch is both a blessing and a curse. notes can be slightly lower/higher but in tune with the context of the piece, which drives people with perfect pitch insane.

having perfect pitch does not guarantee someone will be a prodigy, and people don't need perfect pitch to be a talented musician.

drama in ensembles does exist, but it rarely gets in the way of rehearsal. same thing goes for good friends: if your characters have even a shred of common sense, they aren't going to be talking/messing around during rehearsal.

instruments (especially good ones) are extremely expensive. people very rarely store instruments on the wall or other displays for fear of falling.

instruments are very picky and require tuning every time. every time! it doesn't take long anyway. temperature and humidity can and will make instruments go out of tune or damage your instrument if not properly stored.

some people listen exclusively to classical music, but in my experience, that's definitely not the majority

like with anything, most musicians struggle with self doubt at one point or another.

musician culture

getting excited when we hear a piece we recognize

getting frustrated because we can't remember the name of the piece (after all, no lyrics to search)

being horrified when a non-musician actor is playing a musician. yes, we notice. yes, it's obvious.

if people are joking, it's likely to be about: violas (a quick search for "viola jokes" will tell you all you need to know) or trumpets (a reputation for being overly loud, playing and not)

putting stickers (places they toured, their orchestra, or just purely decorative) on cases is common, but not for everyone. same goes for pictures (of family, past concerts, or anything) on the inside.

scrambling for a pencil when the conductor says to mark something. pencils are a musicians best friend :D

asking (and forgetting) how to split double stops/two parts at the same time. sometimes one stand partner will play the top while the other plays the bottom, and sometimes this is split stand by stand.

this has NEVER resulted in a sexual top/bottom joke. please just. don't. also no g string jokes. it's just unrealistic.

awaiting the obligatory "it's one week before our concert, and you sound like this?!" lecture

not talking about music 100% of the time!!! they have lives outside of music (most of them, at least /j). especially to close friends, music is probably not going to be a conversation topic unless something is out of the ordinary (high stress, something funny from rehearsal, etc.)

bragging/talking about how often they practice is generally not welcomed. great, but other people don't need to hear it!

stages are hot and bright. there's no way a performer can see someone in the audience with the possible exception of the first row.

practicing

three words for you: love. hate. relationship.

slow practice (like really slow lots of people recommend half speed; good for focusing on the right notes, tone, phrasing, smooth transitions)

metronome practice (while playing, it's not annoying at all! it's helpful and requires a lot of focus; when NOT playing, it's annoying and loud because it needs to be heard over the playing)

drone practice (having a machine/website/another person play one note in the background; good for tuning and scales)

and too many more for me to detail

auditions

ensembles may have entrance auditions to determine who gets in and seating auditions to determine placement within the section.

adrenaline does not make us play better; it just makes us make mistakes. and then thinking about those mistakes causes more mistakes.

some instruments, especially those with less repertoire, have common excerpts that come up frequently (i can think of one in particular that i've played for three separate auditions this year).

stopping/starting over is not recommended ever, but if you do, it has to be 10x better. most audition judges aren't looking for perfection!! they want to see how your character can keep going after messing up.

sight reading (being given new music, having ~30 seconds to look at it, being asked to play) is never perfect. i don't care how talented your character is; if they think they nailed it, they aren't experienced enough to see all the phrasing/dynamics that they didn't incorporate. no one gets sight reading perfect!!!

perhaps most importantly, musicians are not all the same! they enjoy it for a number of different reasons and have diverse and interesting lives outside of music!!! more information about specific instrument groups under the cut :)

strings

callouses. with the exception of pianists, most string players (and especially professional ones) have callouses where they press down/pluck the strings. i also have one on my right thumb where i hold my bow. cellists and bassists might have them on their left thumb from playing higher notes in thumb position.

hickeys are also fairly common, though only some people get them. upper strings will get these by under their left jaw. cellists may have one from the wooden body resting on their sternum. some people (including hilary hahn and many many others) use a cloth for comfort and to prevent hickeys.

few people want a hickey, but it might suit a character who is constantly trying to prove themselves.

our fingers do not "glide" anywhere. you can get cuts/"string-burns" from pressing down too hard when shifting. cuts like those are the only reason someone's fingers will bleed, and it's rarer than you think.

upper strings are more prone to back/neck problems from the way they hold their instruments on one side. see also: shoulder pain.

finger cramps happen. they aren't too common, but most if not all strings have experienced at least one.

pianos require tuning every few years or else the chords will be out of tune. few pianists can tune their own instrument because of how complicated it is.

piano parts/accompaniments will have so. many. pages. a page turner may sit on the right of the pianist to turn the page.

woodwinds & brass

spit. so much spit. some instruments clean afterwards with a cloth; others have a spit valve which is as gross as it sounds.

proper embouchure, or how a musician uses the muscles in their face/lips, is tiring, and people actually get strong cheek muscles. they can also easily turn red, but it varies based on a person's facial complexion. see also: good lung capacity.

flute and piccolo are not dainty. piccolo requires as much air as a tuba. an old teacher of mine almost passed out playing piccolo when she was in college.

flutes and piccolos are high, but often not shrill depending on the level of the ensemble.

reeds last a few weeks (less if your character plays for hours a day) and can be expensive to buy.

keys and valves can get sticky especially on older instruments which can result in the wrong note or bad tone.

saxes, clarinets, flutes are more likely to "honk" on low notes.

oboes are more likely to feel "wispy" on high notes.

articulation comes from the tongue, especially for brass instruments, and conductors may ask for "tah" "pah" or "wah" sounds depending on the style of the piece.

percussion

callouses from the friction between hands and sticks/mallets.

there are so many types of sticks and mallets!!! make sure to take a look at what materials are good for what instruments/sounds.

cymbals, triangle, and bass drum are not easy to play, even though they look simple.

percussionists with the exception of timpani may play more than one instrument during a piece, and they're constantly moving around in the back during their rests.

percussion instruments are too expensive for most people to have everything they ever play. practice pads are very common in place of these instruments.

ability to play one instrument doesn't translate to different instruments. for example, many percussionists don't have experience playing set/drum set.

some of the things detailed here are heavily glossed over, so if you have any questions, i'd always be happy to talk about it with you; i may not have answers, but i will try to help as best i can!!!

since you read this far, have my favorite viola joke.

what's the difference between a violist and a large pizza?

a large pizza can feed a family of four :)

tagging some people who showed interest: @writing-is-a-martial-art @ashen-crest @kg-willie @owilder

#writing advice #writing resources #writing reference #music #wow this absolutely consumed me

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jadelynlace · 3 years ago

Text

Ink Drinker / Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 6

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

***content warning [PLEASE READ]: this chapter has the after effect of the trauma call, and too many emotions. surgical mentions and medical terminology are in this chapter as well. anything in italics indicates a flash back.

author’s note: I’m so sorry.

“Floki, why can I be left alone?” Ivar asked.

“Because the last time you were left alone you ended up with fifty thousand milligrams of pain killers in your stomach. Now, come here—do you know this?” Floki replied with his fingers taping the photo copied image.

“I drew that.” Ivar said back.

“Yes, you did. Where do you want it?”

“What do you mean?”

“You hate your body so much why don’t you cover it in something you like?”

It is sixteen hours that Ivar is in surgery. His world is dark, nothing but, with pierces of noises that he can recall. But trying to decipher them only makes the surroundings dull, caked in black and muffled with a buzz of an unruly bee hive. There are pokes of pain, he remembers the green light, and he remembers the pot hole he swerved to miss. He doesn’t remember how fast he was driving and the second he was over the yellow line made no difference for the sudden beast of a truck to find him.

Everything below Ivar’s powdered knee caps are reattached. Grueling hours on the table while he’s sewed back together like a monster. Enough time for Hvitserk to get clothes, to get you clothes, to pack a bag for his brother per your request. Even in the presence of clean laundry you can’t take your blues off yet—they’re holding you proper because you just saw Ivar that morning. You two made love in the low morning light, filled with ecstasy, his seed and then he made you eggs with extra hot sauce and hugged you tightly you were sure you stopped breathing. He told you to be safe, baby, like he did at the dawn of each shift and that he would call you when his last appointment was finished, and on his way back from shopping for supplies for the parlor and that you two would make lunch plans. In his speed, his haste to make sure he didn’t miss you before the two tone song of death would sing in the radios, he instead, became the reason it did.

Your chief shows up when you tell him the nature of the emergency. Pulling additional personnel on for overtime and they take the rig out of service and from your hands. Words don’t spare any differences and although he offers you a hug, when you take it he slips you a piece of paper.

“Remember the job you’re doing. And the change you’re making.” He whispers in your ear and you look at the folded sheet. It’s a photocopy of a poorly drawn fire truck with an even worse sketched stick figure, and you had scribbled it when you were five. Back when you met chief for the first time because now you hold the same badge number your father once did.

“If I give you your Dad’s old badge number, are you going to act like a jack ass like him?”

“I can’t make any promises chief.”

“I have a partner in mind for you, you’ll like him. He’s a good kid. A good medic.”

“This good kid got a name?”

“Yeah, Hvitserk. I’ll introduce the two of you.”

This is the call that shapes you as a medic, as a provider, and changes how you see things. This is the call that sends a new person out into the street, whether Ivar lives or not. This is the call that forever holds terror in your heart because he was laying in the back of your ambulance, and that was the one spot you never wanted him to occupy.

Aslaug walks through the doors and she’s already two tissues deep into a soggy mess. Hugging Hvitserk and hugging you and you wish you were meeting this woman for the first time under any other circumstance. Floki thanks you and you don’t quite know why, even though the words fall heavily and un-calming, he still thanks you. And when the surgeon returns before the four of you, you’re the only one that doesn’t stand. But he calls your name because you know him, he was lab staff that tested you for your certifications and he told you that you’ll make a damn good medic one day.

“Remember what I said on the day of your exam?” He asks and you nod, puzzled and impatient looks on the other faces. “You are a damn good medic—you both are.” He adds, eyes jumping from yours to your partners. “And it shows on this call, of all of them.” Hvitserk’s shoulder nudges you and you only nudge him back, perhaps little too hard in your delirious state. “Essentially what we did, was replant the lower portion of each leg. Now, given the extent of his injuries and how his body handles such, I don’t have a clear cut answer for you on his overall mobility. He may need to have screws implanted, he may need prosthetics. He’s going to be in the ICU for the next 48 hours for constant monitoring. We’ll have him sedated so his body can focus on what’s at stake. He’ll need physical therapy for a long time, and he’ll likely be disabled for the rest of his life, given again, how his body handles this. It’ll be a long road. But, like I said—you two are damn good medics and that is the one reason his legs were able to be saved. I will let you know when he’s moved to the ICU.”

You look back at your partner and his face is as blank as yours; influx of emotions just ready to dive from the void but your minds are still churning, still processing all of what boomed from the doctor’s mouth. Ivar’s chance at returning to a normal life was resting in your hands and you two gave the best damn efforts and they worked. The countless hours of dissection, wondering if you’re cut out for this career, these responsibilities, hours of trauma and blood and vomit all fizzle away because you now know that you are. And it just took Ivar to prove it.

When your eyes open again there’s a sharp pierce in your temple, scrunching eyes together and slowly moving, your head rises from Floki’s shoulder and the lights in the ICU have dimmed in the late hour. Impressions stood between his nostrils, falling like petals over his cheekbones, bleeding through split brows and pink flowers through the depths of his neck. His chest sinking and fainting with time, there was a moment of deafening silence when you are looking at his body; seemingly so small under the contraptions. The depths of earth, and the worst hell was seeing him lay on this cot. He’s only sedated now, even though Ivar looked of death, he was still alive under the harvest of wires. The words of how “we’re doing all that we can” do not bring any more comfort, they just take Ivar like a wave rapidly back out to sea. And now you understand how your patients, and their families feel when you speak the same phrases to them. The clinical assessments do not stop a rigorous schedule, motoring for the possible failure. The room is kept warm, and every so often when you will yourself to peek in, you can see the sheen of sweat that’s over Ivar’s forehead, dancing across his chest under the stickers, the monitors. The capillary refill on his toes show promise, and when the nurse says that to her doctor, you find yourself attempting the same motions on your thumb nail. Pressing the pink away and making room for the white, and then in a quick release, the pink swarms back. The ultra sound machines reminds you of the new equipment in your rig as it assess arterial blood flow every hour.

IV bags drip, slow and agonize and the change of wrappings, dressings and cleaning of both the limbs and Ivar himself collect. You spend hours watching the fluid levels sink, his eyes flutter, his fingers in his hand dance and you grow cold because you just want to hold him. To lock him in a steel tower and to constantly remind him how strong he is, because you know the longest road will not come from learning to walk. It will come from Ivar trying to find that he is worthy to live on.

Blackness had retired across your cheeks, wrapping a veil of makeup that melted into battle scars and you could not move if your body depended on it. Aslaug sits next to you; she takes her time wiping the makeup off from under your eyes, the soiled mascara and she’s humming to you. She had been telling you how when Ivar was young, she would sing to him and it would calm him down. How she sang to him in the hospital after he tried to overdose, tubes pumping his stomach as she blamed herself for such wrong doing. How Hvitserk blamed himself because he gave no one a warning cry. And how she’s singing to Ivar now, even though he can’t hear it, because it comforts the three of you as a whole.

When your eyes follow the nurse into the room, you can hear her say something to Ivar and you watch his head turn in confusion. Grogginess and a fog on his brain as she talks to him like it’s a normal conversation; wishing him a good morning, how the weather looks promising for a beautiful day and you wish you had that level of bed side manner. You never get the promising parts of the journey; you get the patients that are coding and in a rush to the life saving team in the hospital. You love the ones who tell you their entire live’s story in the back of the rig on the way to the emergency room, sharing details and calming your mind with how simple, and yet how different every walk of life is. The nurse says something about you, about Hvitserk and Aslaug and Floki, out and waiting and ready to see him when he’s fit. You wave through the glass and there’s the tease of a smirk on Ivar’s face, even in his slightly sedated state. A dastardly, bastard smirk and his hand lifts off the bed slightly, wiggling his fingers back to you. The tears start up again, pounding a sledge hammer through your skull after all of the unruly pressure and messes of crying as your body tries to go numb.

“Where’s my mom?” You hear Ivar say in a voice that muted slightly as the nurse stands in the door way to exit. “Can I see my mom?” And the nurse nods. Aslaug stands and kisses your hair line as she walks into the vicinity, Ivar watching her and you need to back up, you need to walk away from the room, this hall way and this battle. A faint wheeze goes through your chest and Floki catches it first before Hvitserk has a chance to lift his head and open his eyes.

“Let’s walk, dear,” Floki says and his voice is not authoritative but it still demands you to comply as he loops an arm around your shoulder. “Walking can help to clear the mind.” It’s your first time outside in almost three days, and the sunlight burns you like you had been its victim on a sand covered shoreline for one too many hours. The hospital grounds are manicured, they’re neat and arranged with an abundance of flowers and colors in the open air but everything to you still feels so dull and lifeless, pointless and hopeless and walking only churns your thoughts to double, triple in size like a snow ball rolling down a hill.

You’re finally allowed in to see Ivar and you approach slowly, like touching him will seer you suddenly, stain you with a unremovable pattern and you’ll forever be reminded. His blue eyes are dull and groggy when they open, the nasal cannula wrapping his face and your eyes dance over the scurf collecting on his jaw, and the faint bruising, cuts and scrapes on his skin.

“Hey baby,” His voice rasps and you kneel by the bed, tears already on their journeys to streak your tried skin and Ivar’s needle poked, IV covered arm comes to wipe what he can reach. “You were there, weren’t you?” And you can only nod, eyes still damp and you relish in the touch he gives you only if it’s for a second. “You saved my life, baby,” Ivar finally adds and that makes the whimper start again, the choke of a sob in your throat and he tries to quiet you, slithering a quick noise from his lips and you rest your head against the bed, his hand still on your hair.

“I drove the ambulance over a hundred miles an hour,” You finally say and they’re the first words you can use to process the trauma you two had lived through together.

“That’s my girl,” Ivar smiles, speaking with a voice that sounds like sandpaper.

“I love you Ivar—no matter what happens, I love you so much,”

“I love you too, Y/N,” Ivar says and his voice is weaker now and he needs rest. “Kiss me before you go?” He says with eyes scanning your face, and you can’t deny that now. Pressing your lips softly against his, your hands cupping his cheek and you hope it’s not the last kiss you’ll ever get from him. “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” Ivar tells you. “I’m afraid. But I’m not going anywhere,” You nod as he speaks, a forehead against his for a second and his hand is still trying to reach on you where he can. This is the man that would pull the tubes and the wires from his chest if he could, if that would make him get closer to you. “You’re stuck with me,” And there’s a faint snicker after his words, weak and drowned out from the normal tone but you’ll take it after not hearing his voice for three days.

“I’m stuck with you,” You say back with a small smile. But it still doesn’t bring enough hope.

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @ivarhoegh @a5hl3y5ibley @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @kataphine

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

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zoe-oneesama · 4 years ago

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Okay, semi-serious question! What would each member of Miss Bustier's class in the Scarlet!AU, including Lila, dress up as for Halloween?

Well I think my ideas would probably apply to canon. And obviously I know France doesn’t really do Halloween (at least not how America does), so we’re gonna just retcon reality and pretend Halloween is a common thing to these kids, so basically:

Marinette: A character costume. From a cartoon or movie or game, whatever it is she’s handmaking and handstyling all of it and is scouring the internet to make sure every detail is 100% canon accurate. Every year she tries to outdo herself by getting more and more intricate characters. Year 1 - Princess Peach Paper Mario version. Year 5 - Princess Peach Smash Bros verison.

Adrien: It’s the first year he gets to participate and it’s not some bougie adult wine drinking party, so he either goes for a visual pun (sticking a bunch of beige paint swatches to himself to be 50 Shades of Grey) or goes super basic royalty free costume, like A Vampire or A Devil. If he has a partner he’d totally go couples costumes, but who decides the costumes depends on the partner. (Marinette would totally bow to his whims but Kagami would reel him in)

Alya: She’s been in different store bought Majestia costumes since she was old enough to call the shots. Only this year is she going for Hometown Heroes, but she’s completely caught between who to choose - Ladybug because obviously, or Carapace because her boyfriend, or Rena Rouge because it’s hilarious?! So many options!!!

Nino: He’s never gotten super into it but keeps it alive for Chris. Typically he’ll pull together a “closet costume”, like pulling out the plaid button up and sticking some straw out of the pockets to be a scarecrow. Going to parties with Alya makes him want to try a little harder this year so he’ll probably actually buy a full costume this year to go with whatever she decides to be (”Wait, you’re gonna dress as me this year?!”)

Canon Chloe: She’s worn her Ladybug costume a few too many times in public, so she’ll probably go for Queen Bee but with a twist - like a full ballgown princess but Queen Bee themed. It’s super expensive decorated with real rhinestones, as are all the costumes she’s had in the past because she’s in a personal competition with Marinette. It kills her that Marinette always gets way more compliments on her costumes.

SL Chloe: Same as above but Scarlet Lady themed. She’s at least smart enough to forgo the mask and demands pockets to shove Tikki into.

Canon Sabrina: In order to match Chloe but not outshine her, Sabrina is ordered to be a bee (to be Queen Bee’s “Pollen”, though Sabrina doesn’t know what that means). She’s an adorabee and her outfit is also pretty expensive because it was commissioned by Chloe, but that also means Sabrina got zero input on it.

SL Sabrina: It’s the first time Sabrina hasn’t relied on Chloe to “make” her costume (or rather DECIDE her costume) and all the independence has Sabrina scrambling a bit. In the end, by borrowing some of her dad’s old things, she dresses as a Cutie Cop complete with a too big hat and handcuffs she has to SWEAR not to use.

Max: With some carefully painted cardboard and foam, he’s one of the bots from UMS III. Despite the crudeness of the costume, it is also meticulously model accurate, and also very difficult to move in.

Kim: 100% one of those inflatable T Rex costumes.

Alix: She’d probably wear her regular clothes but invest in a high quality wolf mask and hands and sneak up on people all night.

Nathaniel: He’d have to prepare months in advance but he’d show up as Super Nathan. He skips on the face paint but considering it’s his OC and he still draws it in his comic, I think he’s not emotionally tainted by being an akuma and it’s own little “Fuck You” to Hawkmoth. Plus it makes Chloe stay 10000 miles away from him.

Mylene: Mylene walks into a costume shop with no plan, wanting to be taken in by how a costume looks and feels on her. Because of that she has an eclectic background and no one ever knows what she’s going to come as. Last year she was a racoon because the costume dress had ears on the hoodie, but maybe this year she comes as a Mad Hatter because the costume came with a lot of pieces. Who knows?!

Ivan: He knows he’s going to avoid anything with a mask if he wants his girlfriend to come near him. That does knock off a lot of his favorite horror characters, so he goes an Adrien route and shows up as A Ninja. Yep. Definitely not a video game character, noooo, this is TOTALLY just A Ninja. Uhuh.

Rose: Unicorn Princess. With wings. And a tiara. And A wand. And a tail. And rainbow chalk in her hair. And stickers.

Juleka: She’s a witch, but not a store bought cute short skirt one. Like a voodoo hag that dragged herself out of the swamp to curse mankind. She’s basically one every year so she just adds onto her costume and every year her witch costume just increases in collectables. Vials around her waist and a fake crow on her hat, a spell book appeared one year, and spider webs draped over her shoulders. Uh, are you sure that’s just a costume Juleka?

Canon Lila: She doesn’t care much about the actual costume but takes a lot of care making sure it’s juuuuuust towing the line between cute and sexy. It needs to be attention getting but not bad attention. She goes for slightly childish characters, like Little Red Riding Hood, so she can get away with saying she thought it was “just adorable!” when she knows it’s showing her off. If I wanted her to be even cheekier, I’d have her find a “Sexy” Rena Rouge costume that’s pretty much Rena Rouge but in a skirt, and watch Alya convulse.

SL Lila: Drop the act and just admit she likes feeling sexy. Her friends help her find costumes that are age appropriate but scratch that itch and Lila puts more thought into the actual character. She gets a new appreciation for merging horror with pretty stuff - like a Zombie Cheerleader or Elsa but with ice coming out of her skin. It also lets her stretch her makeup skills.

#on the lila thing I just wanna say that I used to have that embarrassing 'i wanna be a sexy grown up' phase #so that's where I'm coming from with that logic #halloween #my opinion #halloween costumes #ml #miraculous ladybug #crisisdparity

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