#disserations
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mpchev · 4 months ago
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Update on fanbinding dissertation: we now have textblocks!
The folded signatures spent the night in the makeshift press (under heavy books), looking very crisp, making me very happy. Ordered the missing supplies (cutting mat, knife, metal ruler, muslin instead of mull, a big sketchbook with black pages that will hopefully become endpapers) from HobbyCraft, because the bookbinding shops’ shipping fees are no joke. Waiting for that to arrive, I sewed the signatures together!
Used my wonky homemade cradle to punch the holes, following a guide I made out of whatever cardstock was in the recycling. Was originally debating the necessity of the awl, very happy I had it.
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Sewed everything together following the instructions from How to Make A Book and this youtube video by DAS Bookbinding, which covers both French links and kettlestitches. As expected, sewing was really fun, very relaxing, and paired quite nicely with the ongoing supernatural rewatch.
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Been trying to figure out how to add the title to the cover (I sadly don’t have the time/supplies to get into stamping / HTV / letterpress printing), and was inspired by this amazing bind by @celestial-sphere-press to try and do a half dust jacket thing, so I gave it a go while waiting for the last missing supplies, using a small hardback to see what it will hopefully look like. I like it a lot, but should probably find a white pen or pencil to draw with (didn't have anything paler than a yellow pencil on hand).
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Next up: macgyvering a book press, glueing the spine, cutting the boards, sewing the headbands. Looking forward to three out of those four things.
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pbnmj · 2 years ago
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i am only half joking about this version of peterfel. it was just supposed to be the joke on the bottom left but i spiralled (ft. the miles + felicia being the sibling duo that i deserve)
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aedyre · 2 months ago
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@vaynglories guess who finally picked up the gay elf game how long has it been since you first recced it now lolsob
nineaux's two main moods:
everything is great. nothing bad is happening. no one is threatening my friends. does anyone want me to cook a five-course-menu 👁👁
and
how dare you even look at my friends wrong. p̸̸̵̧̭̦͈̮̯̲̮͆ͦ̎ͮͬ̆̿ͪ̉̚͟͢ͅ_͕̤ͭ͒͘e̱̮̤͙̼͉͎̯͙͖̰͒̈́́̆ͥ̈́̍͆̍͋ͯ͢͜͝͞ͅr̷̰̪̙͈̰̬i̴̸̡̨̭̺̺̖͇ͦ͒ͤͩͩ͡sh̡̢̞̞̙͙͙̟̥̞͚̓̌̾͐̂̃̾ͪ̿͢͠. 👁👁
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lovegrowsart · 10 months ago
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zutara + sonnet III, pablo neruda
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flodaya · 10 months ago
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Ooh what was the moment?
i love how i use this blog is basically like a diary because i can pinpoint the exact second that was my downfall
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it was this specific moment though, i saw it on twitter (ofc) and everything about it had me totally spiralling lmao i never particularly cared about celeb couples but everything about this, i could write a disseration i'm not even kidding
(also why is everyone always cutting off the second half of him rebooting and then moving extra close to her)
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genextsofuniverse · 3 months ago
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Deus leve a Becca e deixe a TJ! Imagina ela como mãe!
Olivier: Agora você mexeu com a pessoa errada. A Bekka pode ser insuportável as vezes, mas ela ainda é minha irmã e eu tenho que exercer minhas responsabilidades como irmão dez minutos mais velho. Retira o que disse, agora. Ou eu vou chamar a Alex, e não to brincando.
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blackmetalbats · 2 months ago
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it’s 4 am here but guys GUYS i’ve done it i’ve sent the last piece of my dissertation i can see the light at the end of the tunnel
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anditwentlikethis · 7 days ago
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isto é só uma filha da putice pardon my french
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philaet0s · 7 months ago
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I just finished writing my master’s dissertation after 10 days of suffering, I can now go back to writing fics full time and therefore rediscover what writing for FUN is like
Simon and Baz, my darlings, how much I have missed you
(I’m being overdramatic, I did write for my fanfiction WIPs while I was writing the dissertation)
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dallonwrites · 1 year ago
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okay actually looked at the lover boy wip intro again and this has me crazy because the grief in this was meant to all be about bobby but "remember that his favourite fruit was peaches and try not to cry over it" got me because felix's favourite fruit being peaches is like. a recent but definitive part of his character. and i can't remember if i just used peaches as a placeholder for bobby's favourite fruit (he does not give peach to me) and if i first wrote this before or after i decided peaches were felix's BUT now i'm like. what if this passage is him grieving bobby but it spirals around his grief for his relationship with felix??? find a lover the way you found felix and don't lose him this time but also find a lover because you're trying to find a connection as deep as the one you had with your best friend even though you know it can never be replicated. you can never find a lover that will love you like bobby (platonic, to be clear) loved you. find a lover in the fact you are alive even though it makes you nauseous because it just reminds you that your best friend isn't. how do you grieve someone who's still alive whilst simultaneously grieve someone who isnt? trying to grieve two people in two different ways and you feel guilty at the way they blend and blur because it feels like you lose your separate grips on both of them and you don't feel like you have space in you to accommodate all this ache. and like what if i edited all this to make that parallel more clear?? that his primary grief is bobby because he's the one who's dead but he's also grieving felix and probably doesn't even realise it?? and then the two become blurred?? and if he realised this he would actually feel fucking awful about it and like a bad friend?? haha just kidding unless??
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an-idiot-in-research · 2 months ago
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How it feels to put a pun in the research title
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ownlore · 3 months ago
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one-word dialogue starter call (to clarify it's just the dialogue that will be one word)
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subjectivemortality · 4 months ago
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(Did I send this? You know I gottaa )🕯️
//YOU GOTTA
I've lived a very long time and also...a really short amount of time, comparatively. Sometimes I feel so young, just trying to wrap my head around the world, around myself. We joke sometimes, robbing the cradle/robbing the grave, but Tolya has always felt older than me in a way that's hard to explain. Not just older in years but in...inevitability? Like when I was born (or created, or just appeared into existence, whatever you want to go with) the first thread of my life was already leading me to where they would eventually be, their existence and their impact on me a beautiful foregone conclusion.
Well, I guess that's not so far-fetched when you see the future the way that I do. That's how everything works, really, but with them it feels... Real. It feels like the fanciful version of destiny, the hand of something bigger than we are guiding me to them.
It's been a gift to witness how they've grown (literally and figuratively, forgive the plant puns - their influence on me again) since meeting them. They've always been capable, courageous, a force of nature to be reckoned with, but seeing them bloom in it? It's beautiful. I want to shout from every rooftop how incredible they are, but more than that I want to see them shouting it, claiming that and knowing how true it is. I want them to feel how deeply the people around them admire them, how much they're loved. It's a work in progress.
I keep having this vision that I go back and forth on worrying about, mostly the ending. Their roots eventually get to a point of spreading so far, so deep that the network no longer has that heartbeat at the center of it, because there is no center really. Just like the earth, like everything, their being is an endless series of connections with no clear beginning or end, a cycle. In the vision I ask what my name is (just one of their countless roots, infinite branches that can't possibly all be individually named but yet aren't the same anymore either) and I can't remember it, can't remember even having had a name. And it's not discomforting, but almost peaceful. Just a fact, the same way that there is dirt between my fingers and rain somewhere and drought somewhere else. The sunlight still shines, the soil still rots, and being unnamed feels like nothing.
It could be metaphorical rather than actual - there are plenty of visions where that's the case. Or it could just be that I'm not sleeping again, and I've developed a habit of maladaptive daydreaming.
Either way.
I hope they know that I'm going to love them, no matter who or what we both become.
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capstao · 7 months ago
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Maxwell tinha muitos arrependimentos | pov
mas ensinar Jocelyn a subir uma árvore não estava no topo deles
Trinta anos é tempo suficiente pra você se acostumar com algo, mas isso não significa que ainda não incomode. Principalmente quando esse algo causou diversos impedimentos pela sua vida.
Não me leve à mal. A gagueira não é o problema em si. Já dizia Sartre: o problema são os outros. Ou alguma coisa assim. E Kid Abelha reforçou que "os outros são os outros". Então se os outros não importam, por que eles ainda são um problema? Porque, infelizmente, nossa vida ainda é pautada nas opiniões dos Outros.
E Maxwell se preocupava muito com o que os Outros pensavam dele.
Ele tinha 5 anos quando descobriu que viraria irmão mais velho e era óbvio que ficaria feliz com aquela notícia. Todo mundo algum dia já quis um irmãozinho e Max estava realizando esse desejo. Com o ultrassom da mãe que mostrava o ovo de uma lombriga (afinal nem um feto aquilo era ainda), rodou a escola mostrando pra todos os amigos que ele ia virar... irmã mais velha. De qualquer forma, já tinha em mente tudo o que ia ensinar para aquela criança. Como colocar pilha no controle remoto, como fazer uma cabana com cadeiras e lençóis, como fazer trança no cabelo. Max tinha gama de habilidades pra passar adiante.
A sua favorita era subir nas coisas. Adorava altura e tudo o que Max gostava de fazer, precisava compartilhar com a irmã. Eles eram uma equipe, afinal.
Era comum que fosse ele subindo nas árvores, fazia com frequência na goiabeira que a família tinha porque vendiam as frutas pra conseguir uma renda extra. Só que, tipo assim, ele aprendeu a subir em árvores com 7 anos. Jocelyn tinha 5 quando começou a insistir que queria aprender.
Mesmo contra a vontade dos pais, Max decidiu ensinar. O que poderia dar de errado? A goiabeira não era tão alta e ainda tinha um cercadinho de cimento que diminuía ainda mais a distância até o chão.
E pensando positivo: teria mais um par de mãos pra ajudar a catar goiaba, o que diminuiria o tempo que Max levaria e sobraria pra fazer outras coisas como... comer mais goiaba. O cara já era um visionário com 7 anos. Empreendedor. Puta mindset!
O problema era o mindset de Jocelyn. Ca-ralho, que dificuldade lidar com ela. Era uma simples tarde fresca e Jocelyn só precisava de três ou quatro passos pra conseguir subir.
Achar um galho firme > usar o impulso dos pés e a força das costas pra abraçar o galho > uma dica bônus seria contrair a barriga > e então usar toda a força do seu corpo e pernas pra subir no galho. O resto era repetição.
O quinto passo que foi inesperado: agressão. O empurrão quando decidiu ajudar no impulso foi tolerável. O tapa quando segurou a mais nova que estava prestes a cair tirou a paciência. Quando ela pegou o jeito e conseguiu chegar em uma parte segura da árvore foi quando Max assumiu que seria uma boa ideia subir atrás dela. A maioria dos galhos eram grossos e firmes o suficiente pra aguentar os dois, então conseguiram subir bastante.
A sacola de frutas estava cheia, e poderia estar mais se não tivessem comido quase uma refeição inteira só de goiaba.
_ Mm! Nunca achei a outra metade do bicho da goiaba. Eu acho que é mito. - sorriu pra irmã contando a piada que sempre escutou e que aprendeu a reproduzir toda vez.
Talvez Jocelyn tenta gostado daquela piada, porque foi automático demais ela tentar subir mais um pouco pra fugir daquilo. Eles já estavam bem altos e Max sabia que os galhos ficavam menos firmes.
_ Ei, oh! Não! Desce! Você vai cair. - precisou lutar contra alguns chutes pra tentar impedir que a mais nova subisse mais, mas perdeu. O chute que veio no nariz o atordoou por tempo suficiente pra Jocelyn chutar outra vez e o fazer cair da árvore. De cabeça. Direto no cercadinho de cimento.
Sete dias de internação. Para uma família que vivia de venda de frutas, os custos foram bem altos e algumas das consequências que vieram depois ainda não se resolveram. Como a gagueira dada pelo trauma.
Não foi a gagueira quem fechou portas, obviamente. Foram os Outros. E consequentemente Max. A dificuldade de se comunicar, as inseguranças relacionadas à isso, atrapalharam e muito diversos aspectos sociais. Foi só quando completou 18 anos que descobriu que era um homem trans e finalmente conseguiu começar a se impor. Era difícil. Muito difícil. Perdeu muitas oportunidades de emprego porque sua comunicação seria prejudicial ou foi colocado em cargos mais simplórios e menos notáveis pra não precisar usar muito de sua voz. Mas agora tinha voz, e ela ainda era remixada, prolongando o quanto as pessoas o escutariam.
Durante a residência percebeu que a gagueira poderia sim ser um empecilho e por isso decidiu iniciar um acompanhamento com uma fono e... alguma coisa se perdeu nesse caminho. Tudo começou a ficar monótono demais, chato demais, estranho demais. Sem graça.
Gaguejar fazia parte de quem Max era.
Não poderia haver uma linha temporal em que ele não gaguejasse.
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likeabxrdinflight · 8 months ago
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I'm slowly realizing there's at least five potential publishable papers embedded in just my one dissertation study...
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shield-o-futuro · 1 year ago
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Scarlly qual sua musica preferida do Speak Now?
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Anya: Back To December. Ela já ouviu essa musica umas quinhentas vezes desde sexta-feira.
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Scarlett: Quinhentas e uma, porque eu vou ouvir de novo agora. Essa musica é perfeita.
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