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trans-cuchulainn · 25 days

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Could you recommend some good resources on accurate depiction of parchment in the medieval period? I feel like most people interested in medieval studies have a basic understanding of what it is and how it’s made, but you seem more well-versed than most on its tactile properties and regular use cases. Where can others acquire this knowledge?

most of what i've learned about manuscripts and book history has been either during my degrees or from work (i have worked in various libraries including with special collections, although mostly with early printed books and later paper manuscripts in that capacity). and in terms of what it's like to interact with, i have learned this mostly from interacting with it, but if you don't have a library or museum near you that will enable you to do this, it's a bit harder. this makes it hard to give recommendations although there are lots of very good books out there about books and manuscript history

(there's one i read early on in my journeys with palaeography etc that went into loads of detail about different writing surfaces including wood and wax tablets and so on, but i cannot remember the title and past me did NOT write it down which was really unhelpful. if i remember it i'll post about it)

there are also a ton of online resources about manuscripts though. lots of museums have online guides to manuscript production, parchment, writing through history. there's lots of codicology stuff out there. so it's not like you have to learn it in a formal environment -- that's just where i learned it and therefore mostly from lectures rather than shareable resources

but to understand parchment specifically i think understanding the process of making it is a crucial step to understanding why it is the way it is (and why it's not paper). here's a couple of youtube videos that give an overview

youtube

this is a more detailed video about a project that got people to make parchment themselves which is just kinda interesting (haven't watched it all the way through but am watching parts):

youtube

once you understand how parchment is made and the resources that go into it, i think it's easier to understand why it probably wouldn't be used for ephemera and scraps, and that helps you think about situations where people might use something else -- e.g. a wax tablet to take hasty notes, send messages that don't need to be permanent, send messages that are emphatically not permanent (your recipient can melt it and hide the note), etc -- as well as beginning to rethink the modern world's reliance on the written word in general and consider how oral messages and other non-written communication might have been used

as for the tactile side of things, as i said in a previous post, if you can't touch book parchment, go find your local irish musicians and see if the bodhrán player will let you handle their drum (or good quality orchestral timpani will do too! but with a bigger drum it's harder to feel both sides of the skin). drumskins made of goatskin are very similar on a tactile level to parchment, just a little thicker and not processed to quite the same level as a writing surface. it helps you stop thinking of them as super fragile once you realise people are whacking them with a stick regularly, and you can learn about the difference between the hair side and the flesh side of the skin and stuff and see the way the hair leaves traces in the skin and so on. this helps with the tactile understanding

(the cheaper the bodhran, the rougher the reverse side will be even if the front is still nice and smooth, which also makes you realise the difference between high quality books where you can barely tell which side of the page is the hair side, and low quality ones where they're not fully treated, there's still hair, whatever)

i talked to a conservator lately who told me the way he got into book conservation was via musical instrument repair -- they are more similar than you would think -- and i know trad musicians scattered far and wide enough to be reasonably confident that even if you're in an area with no touchable medieval manuscripts, you can probably at some point find a drummer who will let you play with their bodhrán in exchange for a pint or something, lol

but in the mean time there's lots of cool videos about there about parchment making which i do think is a crucial step to understanding it as a writing surface! and i will see if i can remember the names of any of the books i've read...

#maniculum #answered #parchment problems

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

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Lion’s Den: Part 11

A/N: trigger warning for some derogatory comments about women, mild swearing (tbh I don’t want community standards to get me even though it’s mild)

The second hand. The second hand was mocking you. Every tick tick tick of the sleek silver prong behind the sharp glass was mocking you with the passing time that aggravated you with its knowledge that you couldn’t sleep.

It was a tool to drive you temporarily insane with the repetitive sound that echoed with the weight of war drums. Every tick was the sound of an ash and holly cipin banging against the side of a bodhrán.

You couldn’t turn your mind off, you couldn’t close off your auditory system to the sound of father time’s incessant beating. You couldn’t stop the endless course of thought from rampantly keeping sleep at bay.

Every time you closed your eyes you saw them. Every time you thought the gentle clasp of sleep would find you, you heard them.

Bronx & Queens, dead.

Bronx & Queen, the two guards hired to keep you safe were killed rather grisly.

You hadn’t seen the entire set of pictures, those were in the sole possession of Steve & Bucky. They have hidden away in a near destruction-proof safe while you were given the meagre knowledge that they had died and it was grim.

And you had a sick sense that something, everything, was going to go up in fire and smoke. It was a dull ache in the back of your mind, an incomprehensible fear that was reminiscent of the feeling of being watched. The underlying notion was that something was on the cusp of happening and you were complacently standing idle while the inner workings of this uncontrollable tactic were being perfected behind closed doors.

Tick, tick, tick.

You rolled onto your side, trying as best as you could not to disturb the alphas down the hall from your room, the two men who had hyper-tuned their instincts to detect the subtlest disturbance in the night would have heard you if you weren’t careful or quiet. With the urgency to be as subtle as possible, you slowly kicked the blankets off and pushed yourself to sit up on the edge of the bed, your feet touching the cool hardwood floor.

You count under your breath and started to stand, one hand pressed against the bed to keep yourself steady, and as you had gained your balance you started shuffling forward. It didn’t take you long to cross the room, though with every step you were cautious as to not wake Steve and Bucky, given that it was such a fight to be able to sleep on your own without them pressed tightly against you.

Hours before had been the catalyst that kicked their protective instincts into a whole new intensity, you were lucky to have a room to yourself tonight. You didn’t need them to know that you couldn’t sleep, you didn’t them to be overbearing about your inability to sleep well.

Once you thought the coast was clear, you slipped from the room and kept to the left side of the hallway, moving as silently as you could with every intention to curl up on the couch and watch some mindless movie to keep your mind busy.

Whether it was underlying guilt that was keeping you awake or the self-destructive anxiety that told you it would be better if you slipped out the front door rather than become some tool to cause Bucky and Steve pain, the result was the same dullness. You were unable to sleep, you were unable to turn your brain off.

And time was mocking you with every passing second that descended the night into further darkness.

“I can’t sleep.” You whispered in passing as if they could have heard your excuse for why you were awake, and then you kept on your trajectory toward the living room.

Your descent to the leather seat of the sectional was slow, and you had waited a moment to stretch out and relax against the cool material. After you had truly sunk into the surface and curled in on yourself, you raised your arm and reached behind you to grasp hold of the blanket draped over the back edge and yanked it down toward you. It took a few moments for you to straighten it out over yourself, and a few more to arrange yourself in the position you wanted.

Using your phone tucked into your hand, you used an app downloaded on your phone to turn on the television and used the same app to open one of the streaming networks. Your choice wasn’t a complicated or lengthy process, if anything you had chosen something unassuming that you wouldn’t have to pay any particular attention to.

As the opening scenes started to play, you dug deeper into your bed on the couch and tucked the blanket under your chin. Your eyes had been trained on the screen, your head tucked into a comfortable position and your legs were tucked into your self and with the addition of the background noise to drown out the ticking clock, you finally felt as if you could sleep.

You woke to the feeling of your phone vibrating against your thighs, the buzz jerking you from some kind of twisted and vague dream. Your hand clutching your phone had dragged it from under the blanket and as your vision became clearer, you had rolled onto your back gauging whether you wanted to answer the call or not.

It wasn’t an unknown number that demanded to be denied, it was your sister’s name that flashed on your screen and although you had negated any connection with her since she tried to have you fucked over with Marcus, your curiosity was almost entirely directed you to answer the call.

Without much thought, you accepted the call and held it up to your ear, listening to the egregious sound of someone having sex from the background. There were steady and hyper-sexualized grunts that were animalistic and had been followed by high-pitched squeals and fake moans that stirred your ire. You had almost hung up the phone and tossed it away from you until you heard her voice.

“You caused this you bitch,” your sisters’ curd attempt at insulting you was nothing if slurred and broken by drunkenness, “you fucking whore! Marcus took another omega because of you! If you would’ve just-“

“I told you he was a piece of shit-“ Your attempt to negate her concerns for her alpha and potential mate had been overshadowed by the sudden turn of sexual pleasure and your sister’s drunken tyrannical rage focused on you, to the sound of someone crying and Marcus’ cursing.

“I told you to get me the fucking bitch. I want the bitch not these useless whores-“

“I can’t-“

The phone was pulled from your hands and the call was immediately ended, your eyes raising to meet Bucky’s own intense gaze. Without saying anything, he had crouched by your side with his hand still clutching your phone and used his free hand had cup your chin in order to hold your gaze steady.

His eyes had met yours, holding your attention while his thumb brushed against the edge of your jaw, a soft hum reverberating in his throat. His natural scent was heady, and it was clear that Bucky was projecting to keep you calm after the phone call that hadn’t just affected you but had triggered something dark and dangerous within the two alphas.

Whether it was their natural reaction to become predators when they were threatened, or they had rooted themselves in the primordial darkness that came whenever their omega was threatened, the result had been the same.

Despite the colour of their eyes remaining relatively unchanged, there was a surge of deleterious intent reflected in their irises. Steve and Bucky both, had taken this threat and this stupid drunken mistake made by your sister as a chance to finally find the fucker permanently. They had shown some measure of mercy by allowing both your sister and Marcus the right to live, although there wasn’t even a measurable question of whether that chance would be ripped out from under them.

After tentative silence, and Steve approaching the two of you the reflection of destruction he would inflict with his bare hands had been a fine mist that seemed to hover around him. It almost appeared like a glow, something illuminating the sheer and powerful size of this alpha who was not to be fucked with.

“You’re leaving the city, and we’re finding Marcus.” Bucky had addressed you with finality, less of a request and more of a complete alpha command, one that would not allow room for arguments. “You’ll get another new phone tomorrow.”

Bucky’s hand had dropped from your chin and the comfort from his hand had dissipated, leaving you to feel chilled as if someone had sucked all warmth from the room. It took a shiver running down your spine to get you to sit up, the blanket dragged with you as you used it like a shield to obscure your body from their view. You watched them move around the penthouse apartment while you were in a daze, settled into a place of here and there.

Steve and Bucky were a unit, they were calculated in every step of their journey throughout the apartment. Whether it was one or both of them packing you an emergency bag, or gathering a kit that was designed for interrogation, albeit one where the victim may not live, they moved synonymously.

It had only taken half an hour between the phone call ending and the two alphas preparing to leave with you in tow. Your ascent to the front door had ceased when you took note of the four black duffle bags set by the sleek front door, each bag had a small circular tracking device locked onto the zipper. The first bag closest to you was the largest and seemed unassuming at best as if it was another piece of designer luggage that they could have afforded. And although it had looked to match the rest, with the same kind of onyx stitching and leather bound handles, you had a sense that there was something illusive tucked inside.

“Where are you going?” You raised your head, questioning the two of them with guilt and remorse hanging at the back of your mind. It was a slow-acting poison that countered every other normal thought, the counteracting notion that this was all your fault was affecting your composure.

Tick, tick, tick.

“You’re going somewhere safe,” Steve’s hand, heavy on the back of our neck, steered your attention away from the locked front door to himself. He had drawn you in with a steady hold on you, pulling you into his chest in order for his lips to crash against yours, and with every possessive stroke of his tongue against yours, he had overshadowed your scent with his own.

Steve was holding you as tightly as he could to his body, he was effectively overwhelming you with everything he had, both as a temporary goodbye and an act of utter control and desperation to mark you as his.

As Steve pulled away, Bucky had taken over. Tongue and teeth met, and his fingers dug into your hips almost hard enough to bruise as an indicator that you were theirs and they were yours. In place of a mate mark that you hadn’t gotten yet, their scents overloading yours and the weight of their hands on your body would have to be good enough.

“And you?” You mumbled against him, your eyes fluttering closed when his lips moved to your forehead, and the soft dusting of his kiss against your flesh was another sweet goodbye. “You and Steve?”

“We’re going to find him.” Bucky had pulled away and opened the door for you, three alphas on the other side, one of which was Ari.

“Guard her with your fucking life, if it comes down to you and her-“

“I could say the same to you.” Ari alluded coolly, mutual respect and need between him and your alphas, there was an understanding between the three powerful alphas, and you felt as if you weren’t the only omega trapped in the centre of it all. “Y/N-“

“I don’t want him to breathe,” you turned on your heel, your eyes sharp as you looked between Steve and Bucky with a demand of your own, “fucking kill him. Snap his neck, throw him off the Empire State Building, just…”

“He’s not coming out alive, we promise.”

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bodhranwriting · 9 months

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Captain Alaric’s Demise by Bodhrán M.

(I’m clearing out my PC so I thought I’d share some very old snippets from various works I may or may not go back to)

(This draft was written May, 2017, so I was eighteen years and one month old. I’ve improved significantly since then.)

As soon as the study door swung shut behind them, Fyvie snapped, “What in Myrimus’ name are you doing? Where have you been?”

“Working on something.” Thorne shrugged off the grey fisherman’s oilskin and stored the sack in the desk.

“What is in that?”

“Materials,” Thorne said as he sat down in the chair.

Fyvie glared at his employer. His hair and clothes were damp, and he smelt of the ocean. His hands were scraped and salt-reddened, grains of sand clinging to his skin. But he was smiling, completely relaxed.

“Are you alright?” Fyvie asked more quietly.

“Of course,” Thorne replied easily. He held up his hands and his grin became more rueful, “I wasn’t concentrating and hit some rapids. No harm done.”

Fyvie nodded like he understood. Planting his hands on the desk and exhaling heavily, he said, “You should have left a note. I was worried.”

“My, how the times have changed.” Thorne raised a pale eyebrow and leant back in his chair, folding his arms. “I remember us having that conversation with you. Many, many times. Besides, Giles, I am an adult and in no way obligated to inform you of my constant whereabouts.”

Fyvie closed his eyes in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not what I’m implying and you know it. If you haven’t noticed, Felix, you’re not exactly a popular man at the moment.”

“Still –“

“Still any one of the other nobles could’ve sent a servant to go knock you over the head. You could have gotten robbed. That damned wizard and his friends could have grabbed you. You could have drowned…”

“The last one is unlikely,” Thorne said defensively. “And none of the nobles would stoop to something so common.”

Fyvie thought of the sneering not-quite-threats in the court. “To them you are common,” he said, “They like poetic justice.”

“I can take care of myself,” Thorne drummed his fingers on the table.

Seeing an opening, Fyvie pressed his point. “I know that,” he said quietly, “But I’d rather be able to help if something does happen. How’d you like it if something happened to me and there wasn’t anything you could do?”

It was the wrong point. Thorne’s face hardened. “That was low, Giles.”

“Then maybe you’ll listen to me,” Fyvie stumbled over his words, watching as Thorne’s gaze flickered between the desk, the door, and upstairs. “You skulking about by yourself and not telling anyone what you’re doing while you have at least five people braying for your blood is the kind of thing you, Dad, and Mam would have had my arse for.”

“For very good reason,” Thorne growled. He stood up, smoothing down his trousers and running a hand through his salt-wired hair. “That’s how you get yourself killed.” Perhaps realising his mistake, he added in an offhanded tone, “And then I would never be able to go near a large body of water for the rest of my life because your parents would drown me.”

“Then why aren’t you telling me anything? What the fuck are you up to?”

#captain alaric's demise #writing #writeblr #drafts #clearing cupboard

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capricorn-0mnikorn · 8 months

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youtube

Recently, VoicePlay did a ridiculously theatrical rendition of "Drunken Sailor,"* where their vocal percussionist, Layne Stein, did a moderately impressive reproduction of the sound of the bodhrán (pronounced like "Baron," kinda-sorta).

And that got me a) hungry for the sound of the real thing, and b) wondering how most vocal percussionists (in a cappella bands, at least, not beatboxers who are making careers as solo artists) focus on making the sounds associated with the drum kits used in rock and jazz, and not other drum colors from other cultures.

BTW, as far as folk anthropologists can tell, the bodhrán is not an "ancient Pagan Ritual Instrument, sacred to the druids," but a repurposed household serving tray you'd give to the kids to bang on when they wanted to go out mumming around Christmastime. And it's gained cultural importance among the Irish diaspora, especially in the last hundred years.

Anyway, have a little sample of some fun drumming.

*Since it's a song in the Public Domain, and there's no one composer, or known original performer, I don't think calling it a "cover" is accurate. The song belongs as much to Geoff Castellucci and the others in the band as it does to any of the other 8 billion humans on Earth. That's what folk music is all about.

#YouTube short #eye contact #Irish bodhrán #vocal percussion #VoicePlay #Youtube #folk music #irish diaspora

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sixteenstrikes · 2 months

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two more things i was wondering about lasairfhíona: have you ever mentioned which instrument(s) she plays? :) and what's her dynamic with her brother like?

ahh :) thank you… she’s a merry fiddler… but i imagine she dabbles in a few others… can harmonize along on a penny whistle.. or take up on the bodhrán if you need a bit of drum.. she sings too though her voice is weaker these days

she has two brothers — one dies in the line of his work as part of spysong which she never forgets... she and her living brother love each other very much, they raised kids together, and they are continually at odds… they disagree on almost everything… they love to fight and bicker and debate about every single thing to hash out stress and disagreements in a half-joking way, which can surprise people who know her brother because he comes off as very conflict-averse and mild-mannered otherwise. they write music together sometimes

they have a habit of pulling each other out of bad scrapes and the main reason she isn’t too worried about him (yet) is because she thinks he’s in a situation she can finagle him out of

#he plays the flute :) he’s very shy with most people.. she knows how to rile him up lmao #lasairfhíona

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sheepiling · 1 year

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15 Questions for 15 Mutuals

Thank you to @cantseemtohide for the tag! 🤗

1. Are you named after anyone?

I was adopted at 18 months and never met my biological mother after that so I have no way of knowing; my adoptive parents didn’t change my first or middle names.

2. When was the last time you cried?

I always cry during period week. And every time I watch Encanto.

3. Do you have kids?

Not yet! My husband and I do want at least one kid, though. Maybe two! Not yet, though.

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Only for friends that like sarcasm. If I don’t know someone well enough to know their sense of humor yet or I know they don’t like sarcasm then I don’t use it around them. I enjoy it but it’s situational for me.

5. What sports do you play / have you played?

I was in marching band in high school, and when I was little I took ballet classes, though I didn’t stay in those long enough to graduate to pointe shoes. idk if those count as sports but that’s the only physical activities I did growing up. Nowadays I just do weights and jogging.

6. What’s the first thing you notice about other people?

Personality, vibe checks, & whether or not I wanna actually talk to them or just be polite and yeet out of there.

7. Eye color?

Greyish-blue! Sometimes tealish. It depends on the lighting and what I’m wearing. But usually a light turquoise blue-grey color.

8. Scary Movies or Happy Endings?

While I love classic horror and occult halloweeny things, I love fairy tales more, so happy endings wins! Also I dislike all the modern horror stuff that’s a bunch of gore and jump scares and violence. I prefer horror that’s 80s or older. But I love all fairy tale movies no matter when they’re made!

9. Any special talents?

My long-term memory is abnormally good. I can vividly remember back to kindergarten. However, my short term memory is crap. I’m always losing my phone. 😅

10. Where were you born?

F L O R I D A

youtube

11. What are your hobbies?

Playing Sims and being on Simblr (obviously) but I also like a couple MMORPGs that I play with my guild. I’m also in the choir at my Unitarian Universalist church, and I still play Flute and Bodhrán privately. I’ve been meaning to join a local drum circle but haven’t dedicated the time to that yet.

12. Do you have any pets?

Yes! I have 2 cats, Abigail and Tigger, and they’re mother and son! Though if we’re counting my mom’s & mi suegra’s pets as well then we have a total of 6 pets in the family. My mom has 3 cats, Little One, Midnight, and Dev (all are rescued strays ♡) and my husband’s family has a yorkie named Toby. 💕 and that puppy is mad spoiled they have baby strollers for him and take him everywhere! 😂

13. How tall are you?

In freedom metrics I’m 5′4″

14. Favorite subject in school?

I always liked music / band the most! When you’re in marching band it consumes your entire life. The rehearsals are so long. But that’s where all my friends were so it was amazing. 💖

15. Dream job?

I flunked out of college twice, I’ve kind of given up on any type of careers. My husband is able to support us and I just get part time things when I’m able. Once we have kids I plan on being a stay-at-home mom, and if USA doesn’t fix the violence in schools problem we’ve been having by the time our future kiddos are ready for school I’ll probably homeschool at least the early elementary years. Though once the math gets too advanced for me to be able to teach I’ll need to look for other options ‘cuz I can’t homeschool the whole K~12. Hopefully we can get some kind of education reform by that time.

And now to tag peeps! I’m a bit late to answer this b/c of my Mexico trip and a lot of people have done this already. Also, 15 people is A LOT for a tag game so I’m just gonna pick the most recent mutuals in my Activity log! Sorry if you already did this. If anyone else didn’t get a ping for this tag and wants to do it you can totes tag me as the person that tagged you, though! ♡

@helenofsimblr @sparkiekong @sassie-sims @druidberries @daydreamertrait @timberllania @sir-silly @nolongerafruit @nightlifeseries @silverspringsimmer @coliemoongaming @sims-for-semi @saps-sims @faetheegrey @talesofsimverse

#asks #tags #cantseemtohide

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