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serendipnpipity · 1 day

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Favorite DnP Tour Song Statistics

Settle round, little ducklings, do I have some statistics to share with you all!!

A grand total of 156 people participated in this survey, so thank you if you took the time to fill it out! 🧡

As a teaser, here’s a pie chart of the votes for your favorite song! We’ll be discussing this in depth in its own section but I know some of you f*ck vibe with pie charts more than the bar charts I use there…

To give you a clear vision of what we’ll be looking at, here are the categories of the upcoming analysis:

Phandometrics (community growth on a viewership & fandom scale)

Favorite Song (general)

Favorite Song vs. Phandometrics (the main hypothesis!)

Honorable Mentions (fun little quirks I noticed along the way)

Ready? Time to read on.

PHANDOMETRICS

Lag between year started watching -> year joined the phandom. This can be seen most obviously in the 2009-2015 portion of the graph, likely when the community was just building up. I went back to check individual points, and many people seem to join a year or two after starting to watch.

Three distinct peaks of phandom growth: 2015 (dnp popularity peak), 2019 (coming out), and 2023 (dnpg comeback, dnp renaissance). Pretty expected, but still cool to see!

The difference between the peaks when you look at viewership vs. phandom is interesting though! Especially 2019 seems to be a huge spike in viewership, but the phandom growth seems a little more gradual (maybe more people lurked at first, then joined the phandom in 2023 once they were more active?).

The 2012 peak is really interesting. Most popular year to start watching from this sample, apparently!

FAVORITE SONG

"The Internet is Here" won 51.3% of the votes... which didn't surprise me all that much. It's iconic, okay?

II is about half as popular, and beyond the song qualities themselves, I wonder if a contributing factor to this pattern could be its lack of availability as an officially released song.

I think Everything's Fine is so low partially bc I closed the poll before WAD released to prevent the recency effect from skewing the data. (Especially because I thought we were getting "Everything's Fine (Acoustic)" smh.)

FAVORITE SONG VS. PHANDOMETRICS

By era...

I had a hypothesis: based on the year you joined, which I now realize in my head wrongly equated with the year you were most active in, you'd be more biased towards the song of that era bc a) you were more likely to go to the tour or b) epic nostalgia hit.

Yeah, I was wrong.

When you group the eras you see that TIIH wins in almost every single group by a similar proportion to the total, which means this attitude is fairly evenly distributed amongst the phannies.

By year...

Separating by year, you begin to see that, hold up, the hypothesis could have some merit! In either 2017 or 2018 on both graphs, the II finale actually does win.

The super high TIIH votes bleeding in from 2015/2016 and from 2019 seemed to mask this pattern.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

I have no idea what happened here but both ways you slice it, Interactive Introverts was fighting for its life amongst the 2012 phannies???

We got three phannies that have been watching since 2009!! The fact that people have been sticking around so long (up to fifteen years!!! and this was only a sample of 156 of us!!!) is really heartwarming for me bc it's a testament to how strong of a community dnp have built their viewership to be.

At the end of the day, what can I say? That was a lot of statistics. I hope you enjoyed or took something away from this little survey. Lmk if you notice any other cool trends or have any theories on what the data means!

Thank you for listening to my yapping; have an orange heart.

🧡

#OH ALSO GUYS I literally did all of the categorizing manually in order to make the clustered bar graphs. it was a pain. it was worth it.#dan and phil #dnp #we're all doomed #wad #phan #tatinof #interactive introverts #daniel howell #danisnotonfire #amazingphil #phil lester #ser does stats #ser shares #stats phannies; music phannies; data analyst phannies... this one is for you <3

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allwaswell16 · 2 days

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All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in April 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #61 | ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

🌼 When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo

(E, 79k, F1 au) In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.

🌼 Colorful Hearts by Larrysmomfics / @larrysmomfics

(M, 20k, humor) In a world where orgasmic emissions change color depending on the person’s mood, Louis Tomlinson’s semen has only ever been blue. At the recommendation of his doctor he attends a support group for people with similar conditions.

🌼 In a swirl of flashing lights by @lunaticcat009

(M, 15k, friends to lovers) Harry taps on Louis' window with a sad smile and they sneak into a closed carnival. A starry night of them running around the abandoned premises with their fingers intertwined ensues.

🌼 Fuck You For Ruining New York City For Me by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(T, 11k, exes) Louis broke up with him in their New York apartment, so Harry left the city for good. Except now he’s back, visiting with his new boyfriend.

🌼 defying stars by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 9k, high school) the marching band au only one person (and that was me) asked for.

🌼 Half a World Away by @silverstuff50

(E, 9k, omegaverse) Bothy: A bothy is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone to use free of charge. Bothies are found in remote mountainous areas of Scotland, Northern England, Ulster and Wales.

🌼 Where All Roads Lead by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(NR, 7k, neighbors) Harry's Christmas takes an unexpected turn when he discovers a misplaced holiday card in his letterbox. He never thought that braving the snow to return the card to its sender would be so worth his while.

🌼 Does it Ever Drive You Crazy? (Just How Fast the Night Changes) by xx_soup_xx

(G, 7k, strangers to lovers) Baker Harry Styles takes it upon himself to get his mysterious grumpy customer, Louis Tomlinson, to like Christmas by taking him on a disastrous first date.

🌼 Girl Crush by Hopeless_blue

(T, 7k, strangers to lovers) He used to be so close to fulfilling his dreams when he participated in X-Factor. But that was four years ago, and now, on a rainy day, he wanders the streets looking for a pub where he could sing sometimes. Charming bartender Louis is ready to give him a shot...

🌼 Why Don’t We Start Writing The Story Of Us by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 6k, omegaverse) Alpha Louis and Omega Harry get off on the wrong foot, Louis has the worst timing, and Harry believes in second chances. Three times Louis asks Harry on a date and the one time Harry accepts

🌼 I Might Say Yes by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 6k, established relationship) the one where Harry buys a wedding dress on a whim. And his very doting boyfriend, Louis, is more than happy to indulge him

🌼 now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 5k, 5 times fic) Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest.

🌼 Crimson Clover by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(T, 5k, soulmates) Harry and Louis are soulmates, but one is already promised to another. When their plan to flee is discovered and they are separated, Harry falls gravely ill.

🌼 I’ll tell you something (I hope you’ll understand) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 2k, girl direction) Louis insists that Harry stay off her phone and in the safety of Louis' room rather than risk moping in her own texting her ex-boyfriend. When Harry agrees on one condition, Louis' safe night in could become something else entirely.

🌼 All The Way Home I'll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue

(T, 2k, friends to lovers) Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🌼 beech tree in autumn by @juliusschmidt

(E, 1k, summer romance) Louis walks forward. Harry walks back. And back. And back. Off the two track, through the brush, until his heel bangs against the trunk of a tree.

🌼 hey stupid, i love you by @enchantedlandcoffee

(T, 1k, omegaverse) The one where self-proclaimed Valentine's Day hater, Louis, surprises his boyfriend on their first Valentine's together.

🌼 skinny dip (in water under the bridge) by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal

(G, 880 words, exes) It’s a Wednesday and nostalgia might just get the best of Louis.

- Rare Pairs -

🌼 Finally, You and I (Collide) by @lululawrence

(NR, 14k, Zayn/Louis) the five times Louis was accidentally wooed by cookies and the one time he was purposefully wooed by brownies.

🌼 I Saw Several Angels in the Self Help Section by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 3k, ot5) Zayn and Louis are soulmates. They're also missing some soulmates. For extra flavour, it's Christmas.

#28th appreciation #ficrec #1dficvillage #hlcreators #hljournal #hltracks #trackinghome #trackinghappily #tracksintheam #ficsfor4am #cristalreads

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thesublemon · 2 days

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best picture

For the first time in a long time, I watched all of the movies nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars this year. Partly on a whim, partly for a piece I’ve been working on for a while about what is going wrong in contemporary artmarking. I cannot say that the experience made me feel any better or worse about contemporary movies than I already felt, which was pretty bad. But sometimes to write about a hot stove, you gotta put your hand on one. So. The nominees for coldest stove are:

Poor Things. Did not like enough to finish. I always want to like something that is making an effort at originality, strangeness, or style. Unfortunately, the execution of those things in this movie felt somehow dull and thin. Hard to explain how. Maybe the movie’s motif of things mashed together (baby-woman, duck-dog, etc) is representative. People have been mashing things together since griffins, medleys, Avatar the Last Airbender’s animals, Nickelodeon’s Catdog, etc. Thing + thing is elementary-level weird. And while there’s nothing wrong with a simple, or well-worn premise, there is a greater burden on an artist to do something interesting with it, if they go that route. And Poor Things does not. Its themes are obvious and belabored (the difficulty of self-actualization in a world that violently infantilizes you) and do not elevate the premise. There’s a fine line between the archetypal and the hackish, and this movie falls on the wrong side of it. It made me miss Crimes of the Future (2022), a recent Cronenberg that was authentically original and strange, with the execution to match.

Anatomy of a Fall. Solid, but not stunning. The baseline level of what a ‘good’ movie should be. It was written coherently and economically, despite its length. It told a story that drew you along. I wanted to know what happened, which is the least you can ask from storytelling. It had some compelling scenes that required a command of character and drama to write—particularly the big argument scene. The cinematography was not interesting, but it was not annoying either. It did its job. This was not, however, a transcendent movie.

Oppenheimer. Did not like enough to finish. But later forced myself to, just so no one could accuse me of not knowing what I was talking about when I said I disliked it. I felt like I was being pranked. The Marvel idea of what a prestige biopic should be. Like Poor Things, it telegraphed its artsiness and themes and has raked in accolades for its trouble. But obviousness is not the same as goodness and this movie is not good. The imagery is painfully literal. A character mentions something? Cut to a shot of it! No irony or nuance added by such images—just the artistry of a book report. The dialogue pathologically tells instead of shows. It constantly, cutely references things you might have heard of, the kind of desperate audience fellation you see in soulless franchise movies. Which is a particularly jarring choice given the movie’s subject matter. ‘Why didn’t you get Einstein for the Manhattan project’ Strauss asks, as if he’s saying ‘Why didn’t you get Superman for the Avengers?’ If any of this referentiality was an attempt to say something about mythologization, it failed—badly. The movie is stuffed with famous and talented actors, but it might as well not have been, given how fake every word out of their mouths sounded. Every scene felt like it had been written to sound good in a trailer, rather than to tell a damn story. All climax and no cattle.

Barbie. Did not like enough to finish. It had slightly more solidity in its execution than I was afraid it would have, so I will give it that. If people want this to be their entertainment I will let them have it. But if they want this to be their high cinema I will have to kill myself. Barbie being on this list reminds me of the midcentury decades of annual movie musical nominations for Best Picture. Sometimes deservingly. Other times, less so. The Music Man is great, but it’s not better than 8 1/2 or The Great Escape, neither of which were nominated in 1963. Musicals tend to appeal to more popular emotions, which ticket-buyers and award-givers tend to like, and critics tend to dislike. I remember how much Pauline Kael and Joan Didion hated The Sound of Music (which won in 1966), and have to ask myself if in twenty years I’ll think of my reaction to Barbie the same way that I think of those reviews: justified, but perhaps beside the point of other merits. Thing is. Say what you want about musicals, but that genre was alive back then. It was vital. Bursting with creativity. For all Kael’s bile, even she acknowledged that The Sound of Music was “well done for what it is.” [1] Contemporary cinema lacks such vitality, and Barbie is laden with symptoms of the malaise. It repeatedly falls back on references to past aesthetic successes (2001: A Space Odyssey, Singin’ in the Rain, etc) in order to have aesthetic heft. It has a car commercial in the middle. It’s about a toy from 60 years ago and politics from 10 years ago. It tries to wring some energy and meaning from all of that but not enough to cover the stench of death. I’d prefer an old musical any day.

American Fiction. Was okay. It tried to be clever about politics, but ended up being clomping about politics. At the end of the day, it just wasn’t any more interesting than any other ‘intellectual has a mid-life crisis’ story, even with the ‘twist’ of it being from a black American perspective. Even with it being somewhat self-aware of this. But it could have been a worse mid-life crisis story. The cinematography was terrible. It was shot like a sitcom. Much of the dialogue was sitcom-y too. I liked the soundtrack, what I could hear of it. The attempts at style and meta (the characters coming to life, the multiple endings) felt underdeveloped. Mostly because they were only used a couple times. In all, it felt like a first draft of a potentially more interesting movie.

The Zone of Interest.Wanted to like it more than I did. Unfortunately, you get the point within about five minutes. If you’ve seen the promotional image of the people in the garden, backgrounded by the walls of Auschwitz, then you’ve already seen the movie. Which means that all the rest of the movie ends up feeling like pretentious excess instead of moving elaboration. It seemed very aware of itself as an Important Movie and rested on those laurels, cinematically speaking, in a frustrating way. It reminded me of video art. I felt like I had stepped through a black velvet drape into the side room of a gallery, wondering at what point the video started over. And video art has its place, but it is a different medium. Moreover video art at its best, like a movie at its best, takes only the time it needs to say what it needs to say.

Past Lives. I’m a human being, and I respond to romance. I appreciate the pathos of sweet yearning and missed chances. And I understand how the romance in this movie is a synecdoche for ambivalent feelings about many kinds of life choices, particularly the choice to be an immigrant and choose one culture over another. The immigrant experience framing literalizes the way any choice can make one foreign to a past version of oneself, or the people one used to know, even if in another sense one is still the same person. So, I appreciate the emotional core of what (I believe) this movie was going for, and do think it succeeded in some respects. And yet…I was very irritated by most of its artistic choices. I found the three principal characters bland and therefore difficult to care about, sketched with only basic traits besides things like Striving and Being In Love. Why care who they’d be in another life if they have no personalities in this one? It’s fine to make characters symbols instead of humans if the symbolic tapestry of a movie is interesting and rich, but the symbolic tapestry of this movie was quite simple and straightforward. Not that that last sentence even matters much, since the movie clearly wanted you to feel for the characters as human beings, not just symbols. Visually, the cinematography was dull and diffuse, with composition that was either boring or as subtle as a hammer to the head.

Maestro. Did not like enough to finish. Something strange and wrong about this movie. It attempts to perform aesthetic mimicry with impressive precision—age makeup, accents, period cinematography—but this does not make the movie a better movie. At most it creates spectacle, at worst it creates uncanny valleys. It puts one on the lookout for irregularities, instead of allowing one to disappear into whatever the movie is doing. Something amateurishly pretentious in the execution. And not in the fun, respectable way, like a good student film. (My go-to example for a movie that has an art-school vibe in a pleasant way is The Reflecting Skin). There’s something desperate about it instead. It has the same disease as Oppenheimer, of attempting to do a biopic in a ‘stylish’ way without working on the basics first. Fat Man and Little Boy is a less overtly stylish rendition of the same subject as Oppenheimer, but far more cinematically successful to me, because it understands those basics. I would prefer to see the Fat Man and Little Boy of Leonard Bernstein’s life unless a filmmaker proves that they can do something with style beyond mimicry and flash.

The Holdovers. Did not like enough to finish. It tries to be vintage, but outside of a few moments, it does not succeed either at capturing what was good about the aesthetic it references, or at using the aesthetic in some other interesting way. The cinematography apes the tropes of movies and TV from the story’s time period, but doesn't have interesting composition in its own right. It lacks the solidity that comes from original seeing. (Contrast with something like Planet Terror, in which joyous pastiche complements the original elements.) The acting is badly directed. Too much actorliness is permitted. Much fakeness in general between the acting, writing, and visual language. If a movie with this same premise was made in the UK in the 60’s or 70's it would probably be good. As-is the movie just serves to make me sad that the ability to make such movies is apparently lost and can only be hollowly gestured at. That said, the woman who won best supporting actress did a good job. She was the only one who seemed to be actually acting.

Killers of the Flower Moon. The only possible winner. It is not my favorite of Scorsese’s movies, but compared to the rest of the lineup it wins simply by virtue of being a movie at all. How to define ‘being a movie’? Lots of things I could say that Killers of the Flower Moon has and does would also be superficially true of other movies in this cohort. Things like: it tells a story, with developed characters who drive that story. Or: it uses its medium (visuals, sound) to support its story and its themes. The difference comes down to richness, specificity, control, and a je ne sais quois that is beyond me to describe at the moment. Compare the way Killers of the Flower Moon uses a bygone cinematic style (the silent movie) to the way that Maestro and The Holdovers do. Killers of the Flower Moon uses a newsreel in its opening briefly and specifically. The sequence sets the scene historically, and gives you the necessary background with the added panache of confident cuts and music. It’s useful to the story and it’s satisfying to watch. Basics. But the movie doesn’t limit itself to that, because it’s a good movie. The sequence also sets up ideas that will be continuously developed over the course of the movie.* And here’s the kicker—the movie doesn’t linger on this sequence. You get the idea, and it moves on to even more ideas. Also compare this kind of ideating to American Fiction’s. When I said that American Fiction’s moments of style felt underdeveloped, I was thinking of movies like Killers of the Flower Moon, which weave and evolve their stylistic ideas throughout the entire runtime.

*(Visually, it places the Osage within a historical medium that the audience probably does not associate with Native Americans, or the Osage in particular. Which has a couple of different effects. First, it acts as a continuation of the gushing oil from the previous scene. It’s an interruption. A false promise. Seeming belonging and power, but framed all the while by a foreign culture. Meanwhile potentially from the perspective of that culture, it’s an intrusion on ‘their’ medium. And of course, this promise quickly decays into tragedy and death. The energy of the sequence isn’t just for its own sake—it sets up a contrast. But on a second, meta level it establishes the movie’s complicated relationship to media and storytelling. Newsreels, photos, myths, histories, police interviews, and a radio play all occur over the course of the movie. And there’s the movie Killers of the Flower Moon itself. Other people’s frames are contrasted with Mollie’s narration. There’s a repeated tension between communication as a method of knowing others and a method of controlling them—or the narrative of them—which plays out in both history and personal relationships.)

Or here’s another example: When Mollie and Ernest meet and he drives her home for the first time, we see their conversation via the car’s rearview mirrors. This is a bit of cinematic language that has its origins in mystery and paranoia. You see it in things like Hitchcock or The X-Files or film noir. By framing the scene with this convention, the movie turns what is superficially a romantic meet-cute (to quote a friend) into something bubbling with uneasiness and dread. This is not nostalgia—this is just using visuals to create effects. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen anything that uses the convention before, although knowing the pedigree might add to your enjoyment. The watchfulness suggested by the mirrors and Ernest’s cut-off face will still add an ominous effect. It works for the same reason it works in those other things. Like the newsreel, it is a specific and concise stylistic choice, and it results in a scene that is doing more than just one thing.

In general, the common thread I noticed as I watched these nominees, was the tendency to have the ‘idea’ of theme or style, and then stop there. It’s not that the movies had nothing in them. There were ideas, there was use of the medium, there was meaning to extract. There were lots of individually good moments. But they tended to feel singular, or repetitive, or tacked on. Meanwhile contemporary viewers are apparently so impressed by the mere existence of theme or style, that being able to identify it in a movie is enough to convince many that the movie is also good at those things. The problem with this tendency—in both artists and audiences—is that theme and style are not actually some extra, remarkable, inherently rarifying property of art. Theme emerges naturally from a story with any kind of coherence or perspective. And style emerges naturally from any kind of artistic attitude. They are as native as script, or narrative, or character. A movie’s theme and style might not be interesting, just like its story or dialogue might not be interesting, but if the movie is at all decent, they should exist. What makes a movie good or bad, then, is how it executes its component parts—including theme and style—in service of the whole. When theme is well-executed it is well-developed. Contemporary movies, unfortunately, seem to have confused ‘well-developed’ with ‘screamingly obvious.’ A theme does not become well-developed by repetition. It becomes well-developed by iterationand integration. Theme is like a melody. Simply repeating a single melody over and over does not result in the song becoming more interesting or entertaining. It becomes tedious. However, if you modify the melody each time you play it, or diverge from the melody and then return to it, that can get exciting. It results in different angles on the same idea, such that the idea becomes more complex over time, instead of simply louder.

Oppenheimer wasprobably the worst offender in this regard. Just repeat your water drops, crescendoing noise, or a line about ‘destroying the world’, and that’s the same as nuance, right? Split scenes into color and black and white and that’s the same as structure, right? That’s the same as actually conveying a difference between objectivity and interiority (or another dichotomy) via the drama or visual composition contained in the scenes, right? When I watched many of these movies, I kept thinking of a behind-the-scenes story from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The story goes that Joss Whedon was directing Sarah Michelle Gellar in some scene, and when the take was over he told her how great she was, and that he could see right where the music would come in. And Gellar replied that if he was thinking about the music, he clearly wasn’t getting enough from her acting alone. This conversation then supposedly informed Whedon’s approach to “The Body,” a depiction of the immediate aftermath of death that is considered one of the best episodes of television ever made, and which has no non-diegetic music whatsoever. Not to imply that music is necessarily a crutch, or to pretend that “The Body” is lacking in other forms of stylization (it is a very style-ish episode). But more to illustrate the way that it is easy to forget to make the most of all aspects of a medium, particularly the most fundamental ones, once one has gotten used to what a final product is supposed to feel like.

And that’s why most of these movies don’t feel like movies. They create the gestalt of a movie or a ‘cinematic’ moment—often literally through direct vintage imitation—without a sense of the first principles. Or demonstrating a sense of them, anyway. Who needs AI when the supposedly highest level of human filmmakers are already cannibalistically cargo-culting the medium just fine.

[1] “The Sound of Money (The Sound of Music and The Singing Nun).” The Pauline Kael Reader. (This book contains the full text of the original review, rather than the abbreviated review that I linked earlier.)

#posts: art #movies #am rusty at blogging and don't have all the virtuous nuance i would like in this but we will go with it

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angstywaifu · 3 days

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The Lost Sister - Part 24

Synopsis: Xaden is known as an only child due to his sister who 'died' during the Rebellion. Little do they know she didn't die and has been so close this entire time.

Garrick Tavis x OC A/N: Just want to say thank you to all of you who have joined in on this series in the last week. There is so many of you now! Hope you're enjoying it! This week is a smaller one, but I can promise you will not be disappointed with some of the stuff you will find out. Enjoy!

The Lost Sister Masterlist | Masterlist

It feels like I blink and December flies by. And with it, the return of challenges. We had been given a break around threshing. Giving us time to adjust to our dragons, the new training we had to take up, and any signets that might manifest. Which was probably a smart idea. There were plenty of signets amongst the first years that could have been deadly if they manifested in a challenge where no rules were in play. I hate to think what my signet would have done if it manifested during a challenge.

But now I had the challenge of not using my signet during the challenges. With a classified signet I was restricted in what I could show around the other students. The only place I was technically allowed to use my signet was around Carr. So far he seemed impressed with the progress I was making. Well the progress I was willing to show him. Which so far was moving objects and even him around. Controlling a human was way harder than an object. That night of the attack had seemed so easy, but Carr had informed me due to the situation I had probably delved deep into my power to save myself. I had made that cadet drop that dagger as if it was natural and something I had willed. Carr was a different story. He looked like a puppet. His movements were janky and rigid. I had to remind myself I was also going up against someone who knew how to shield very well. Another thing I would have to learn to break through he told me. Something I would have to practice with Xaden or Garrick in our training sessions after classes. Outside of Carr’s private sessions I now no longer needed to delve into my mind, into that courtyard to focus on someone’s mind and sense what they were feeling. I was starting to pick up on more their strengths, weaknesses and emotions. I was getting small glimpses into their mind. Nothing solid that I could pinpoint what it was, but it was progress. Progress I hoped I could turn into reading opponents intentions. Not that I needed it. Melgren’s training had taught me how to read my opponents movements and stances, to predict what their next move might be. But only time would tell.

As the rest of my squad head to another round of challenges, a round I could tell Violet and Liam were extremely nervous about, I walk through the door to Carr’s classroom. And it’s clear this lesson will be different to the last. Standing in front of Carr is Dain Aetos. The only other cadet in the quadrant with a classified signet. Dain turns as I walk in, his eyes narrowing, clearly not expecting me either.

”Excellent, you received my note.” Carr says with a smile. “You’ve proven you can handle a weapon without any issue so I thought we could use the time to strengthen your signet and test Dain’s.”

Dain turns his head back to Carr, confusion written all over his face. “And how do you expect to test me sir?”

Carr gives Dain one of the smiles that always sends a chill down my spine. “Miss Riorson here has a very very rare signet. The first of its kind. And if the tomes I have studied over the years are anything to go by, she should have a very powerful shield. One so powerful, it should be able to stop anyone from accessing her mind.”

Shit. He planned to see if Dain could access my memories. And if Carr was wrong, Dain would have open reign on everything I know. Everything from the rebellion. Everything from my time with Melgren. And everything that had happened since I had been here. Including the information I now knew about the weapons smuggling and the Gryphon riders. Shit.

Relax. You will be fine. He will not be able to get anything. Mealladh says confidently in my head.

So Carr is right? I ask, relief washing over me.

Yes. You have a very strong shield. Even before I chose you and you manifested your signet. It is one of the reasons I chose you. No one without a dragon or a signet should have a shield as strong as yours. The colonels son wont be able to make a dent in it unless you let him in. Which for you, can be harder than learning to shield for most cadets. You won’t have to do a thing.

Mealladh’s words fill me with confidence as I walk over and drop my bag next to Dain’s on the floor. Carr merely nods at Dain and motions towards me. Signalling to start. Carr had not uttered a word of Dain’s signet. He assumes I don’t know what it is. Probably hoping if he is wrong that I will have no time to stop what is coming. But Xaden and Garrick had known. I assume as those higher up in the Quadrant they had access to the information. I had never asked how they knew. I just knew to avoid his touch. But right now I had no choice. I just had to hope and believe what Mealladh said was true.

Dain turns to me and holds his hands up, hovering either side of my head. He’s nervous. “My signet relies on touch. You ok if i-”

”Just do it.” I tell him sternly, cutting him off.

Dain nods before placing his hands either side of my head, closing his eyes as if needing to focus. But I keep mine open and focused on him. I watch as his eye brows furrow in confusion, as if not expecting what he finds. Or what he doesn’t find. I can feel something faint, very faint at the edge of my mind. The sensation remind me of a feather being dragged across my skin. I hadn’t tried to put my shields up like Melgren taught me. It was like they we’re already there. Already solidified in place. Unbreakable. I feel the sensation again, as if the feather is trying to break through. I can see Dain’s face shift at the effort. As if he is trying to hammer through my shield with great force. But to me, its as if barely anything is happening. I do what Melgren had taught me, slamming up the shield. I watch as Dain recoils as if shocked, his hands leaving my head as his eyes fly open, his chest rising rapidly as he struggles for air.

”I-I couldn’t see anything.” He tells Carr, his eyes still focused on me.

Out of the corner of my eyes I watch Carr smile again. “And let me guess, you tried to put up an actual shield at the end there?” His question directed at me.

I nod. “Yes.”

Even as I keep my eyes on Dain who looks like he is still trying to figure out what happened, I see the joy in Carr’s eyes. The joy at being right. I know as soon as I leave this room he will send word to Melgren of this new discovery. I had no doubt I would be tested against other cadets in the quadrant who bore mental signets. But I knew none we’re as powerful as Dain. The only exception might have been Jeremiah. Could a full innistic penetrate my shields? I would have no way to know seeing as the quadrant killed anyone who manifested that signet.

”Excellent. You are both dismissed. Feel free to head to challenges if you so wish.” Carr says with a flick of his had before turning to his desk and grabbing a roll of parchment. Another note of Melgren.

Dain and I leave the classroom, Dain rushing off towards the challenges. I roll my eyes before following slowly behind him. Maybe I can catch the challenge Liam and Violet we’re so worried about. As I go to round the corner to the gym, a voice in my head stops me in my tracks.

Shit. He’s gonna kill me cause she got hurt. Shit.

A voice that is neither mine nor Mealladh. It sounds almost like-

I round the corner and pacing back and forth is Liam. Liam whose voice I just heard inside my head

Part 25 (coming soon)

@riorgail @going-through-shit @fw-gt @bbkissme99 @xceafh @leptitlu @came-to-laugh-but-cried @onthewaytotimbuktu @daardyrnitta @lovemesomevesey @mxtokko @krowiathemythologynerd @callsign-blue @1islessthan3books

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #garrick tavis #garrick tavis x reader #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x oc #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing imagine #xaden riorson

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q-gorgeous · 1 day

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phantom phantom older phantom danny phantom

fanfiction

ao3

word count: 1165

Maddie is unexpectedly sent to an ashen future. She doesn't even get the chance to meet the mysterious man who sent her to this apocalyptic world - she's only given a single command, ringing over and over in her head: "Find Danny. Save him." @ecto-mochi

ehbvegsudicwkjbd

Save Danny.

Find him. Save him.

Maddie groggily woke up. The command was ringing in her head over and over. What was wrong with Danny? Why did she have to save him?

She opened her eyes and was met with an ashen apocalyptic world. Where was she?

She looked up above her just to see what looked like flying cars. A futuristic city. A dome appeared to surround the entire city and Maddie couldn’t help but think it must be a ghost shield. Why did they need a ghost shield around the entire city?

A wailing sound tore its way through the air and Maddie covered her ears. What was that sound? Where was it coming from?

One of the towers powering the dome exploded and the shield dissipated. Dread filled her being.

Find Danny. That was what she was here to do. That was what she would worry about.

Where did she start though? Was she looking for her fourteen year old son or a version of him from the future?

She just had to start looking. Someone had sent her here. They wouldn’t send her on some impossible mission. She’d know it when she saw it.

She searched up and down the streets as she walked by. In all the ruined and destroyed buildings. There was not a sign of life anywhere out here. Not a single person roamed in this area. It was just her.

She stopped as that wailing sound started back up again. It sounded even closer this time.

“No!”

It couldn’t be. That voice. Was he still haunting Amity Park after all this time?

Maddie turned around the corner of the crumbled building she was standing beside. There he was. Phantom. And… Phantom?

Standing down the street were two Phantom’s. The one she recognized that must’ve been from her own time. And then there was the older looking ghost. He looked like an aged version of the teenage ghost she hunted down every day. Was Phantom the Danny she was supposed to save? He was technically a Danny after all.

The older Phantom picked up some kind of medallion and phased it into Phantom’s chest and he screamed. He jumped into the air pulling Phantom behind him.

Whether or not Phantom was the Danny she was supposed to save, he would probably know where her son was so she could find him.

She was coming up to a ruined version of the Nasty Burger by the time she caught up with them. It had what looked like a memorial of… her and her family. Danny’s friends. And his teacher?

What happened here?

She crept up quietly and stood behind some rubble and listened as the two ghosts talked to each other.

“It doesn’t matter if I go back in time or not! I’ll never turn into you! Never!”

“Of course you will.”

She watched with wide eyes as a ring appeared around the older Phantom’s waist. It split and moved over his body and when it disappeared left standing in his place was what looked like her son.

“It’s only a matter of time.”

Everything clicked into place and she finally understood. He looked like Phantom. He could turn into Danny. He was Phantom from the Future. Phantom was Danny.

This was the Danny she was supposed to be saving.

Then he was throwing Phantom- Danny- into the portal.

“I need you out of my way and out of my hair while I make sure nothing happens to change my past.”

“Danny..?” Maddie stepped forward and reached a hand out towards her son. He turned to look at her with a haunted expression, the portal swirling beside him.

“Ma- Mom?” He called. He seemed confused.

She took another step towards him and he took a step back, the portal closing beside him.

“What happened to you?” She whispered.

“How did you get here?” He asked with wide eyes. “You didn’t come here with them.”

She shook her head. “Someone sent me here. All they told me was to save Danny. I thought they meant my son. But now I realize they meant you.”

He barked out a laugh. “Save me? There is no saving me. There’s nothing you can do. I’m not even your son. I’m an amalgamation.”

“What do you mean?” She pulled her hand back from where it was still outstretched and kept it close to her body.

“That fruit loop tried pulling out Danny’s human emotions but only succeeded in pulling out his ghost half. Then I ripped out his. We morphed together and that is who I am now.”

Her eyes widened. “Vlad? He’s-”

“Half ghost?” He smirked. “You and the fat oaf really are as dense as a brick. You couldn’t even find two ghosts that were always right under your nose.”

“I’m positive you’re the one I was sent here to save though.” Maddie clenched her fists at her sides. “No matter how much I… Detested Phantom, he always got us out of dangerous and impossible situations. Danny always came home. You are the one in need of help.”

His laughter split across the destroyed parking lot. Danny’s blue eyes turned back to red. “Help? Help? I needed help ten years ago. Help with school. Help with ghosts. Help with the goddamn suicidal ideation I had after I watched my entire family get blown up in this very lot!”

Maddie flinched as his voice raised in volume.

“But instead I had the ghost ripped out of my human half and ended up killing him!”

Maddie covered her mouth with her hands. He killed…?

He laughed again, this time a sad, crazed laugh. He looked away from her. “All our ideation paid off though. But it didn’t help me. Not when I was still stuck with every one of both of their bad traits and memories. All of their fears.”

“What are you afraid of?” She whispered. He looked back up at her.

“Being alone.”

She shook her head. “You don’t have to be alone anymore. We can fix this.”

He raced towards her and instead of her son, he was suddenly the older Phantom. He held her up by her throat.

“There’s nothing you can do.” He snarled. “My fate is sealed. And I intend to make sure it happens.”

She took in a raspy breath. “Come… Home. Don’t punish- yourself any longer. Come- come home.”

His eyes widened at that and he let go of her like she burnt him. He took a couple steps back. She coughed as he looked at her.

“You- you think I’m punishing myself?”

She pushed herself up off the ground. “You’ve destroyed everything. You’ve demolished an entire city. You’ve probably killed many people. People can’t leave you all alone if you get rid of them first.”

“I-” He stopped and looked up at her again.

“Come home.” She whispered.

They stared at each other as she waited for his response. He opened his mouth to reply-

#gorgi writes #danny phantom #maddie fenton #danny fenton #dan phantom #angst #ambiguous ending #phic phight 2024 #fanfiction

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illuminatedquill · 1 day

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Prologue Summary: Thrawn has been defeated. The Imperial Remnant has fled in full retreat, disappearing into the Unknown Regions. All across the galaxy, citizens of the New Republic celebrate - free, at last, from the Empire's long shadow. But as the galaxy looks forward to a new era of peace and prosperity, not all are able to share in the celebrations. Mandalore, once again, finds itself on the brink of civil war. A new, violent faction of Mandalorians - vowing to punish the traitors who led Mandalore to ruin - has risen, sowing fear and anger wherever they strike. With the violence reaching a fever pitch, a clandestine meeting takes place in the dark ruins of the once great Mandalorian capital city of Sundari . . . one that has ominous consequences for the hard-won peace enjoyed by the New Republic. And as the future of Mandalore lies at stake, Bo-Katan Kryze makes a desperate call to the planet Lothal, hoping to reach the only two people she trusts to help prevent another war that will destroy any chance of a brighter tomorrow for her people . . .

Overture: RUIN

Ruins of Sundari, Night

Walking through the ruins of Sundari, Kaizer reflected, was a perfect illustration of the current state of Mandalorian society. He had been present during the Night of a Thousand Tears and, like countless others of his kind, believed that to be the true end of Mandalore.

Thankfully, he had been proven wrong. The planet - and its people - survived, as they always do. But it had come at a great cost. Countless wars throughout Mandalore's history, waged with outsiders and with each other, had left the planet barren. Rock and steel and ancient traditions are all that had survived until now.

Some saw it as a victory; proof that Mandalorians could survive anything the galaxy threw their way.

Kaizer knew different. It was the death of a thousand cuts. His people were starving; everything they subsisted on was imported. Crime, disease, and a general air of hopelessness pervaded the population. They had no economy to speak of; nothing to trade with other nearby planets, except for their services as mercenaries or bounty hunters.

The New Republic offered little help. They were too far from the Central Core, and they were still cleaning up the mess from Thrawn's campaign of conquest. At least, that was the official excuse.

Bo-Katan Kryze, newly installed in her position of Mand'alor, was desperately trying to find help where she could. But she was running out of time.

Yes, he reflected darkly, Mandalore survived. But survival cost more every time - and at some point, the cost would be too high to justify. There wouldn't be anything - or anyone - left to pay that price.

His steps echoed in the hollowed-out subsection of the city's underside. There were no city lights to guide his way, but the natural light from the stars and moon above were enough for him to see his way. The larger rubble and debris had been moved aside for somewhat safe passage; thin pools of murky water covered the exposed ground. Small insects and reptiles scattered in his wake as he made his way to the meeting spot.

Finally, ducking through a narrow opening between two chunks of large rock, he arrived in a secret alcove that appeared to be the remains of an archive. He gazed around at the shelves, holding countless data pads; all ruined, he was sure, by the wear and tear of time over the years.

He sighed. The valuable history and knowledge of his people lost so senselessly.

Would it end someday? The cycle of violence that plagued Mandalorians?

Kaizer clenched his fists. I will end it, he thought. I know the way to save us all.

I will do it for you, Melody. I will make it right. As you asked.

"You're late," came a voice in the dark.

He turned to find a cloaked figure, their robes shimmering crimson in the dim lighting. Kaizer barely made out a face: a hooked nose and a cruel twist of a mouth, along with amber eyes that glinted with a dark intelligence. Humanoid, male, and middle-aged.

Kaizer eyed the man apprehensively, weighing his response. He still had no name for this man or any other distinguishing information on his purpose or why he was here. He had appeared months ago, offering him the resources to kick-start his plan - a plan that would have taken years to get off the ground. Now everything was in place, mere months after his first initial appearance.

Their goals were aligned, was all that the man offered about himself. Suspiciously so, Kaizer thought at the time.

"Planning a coup happens to be a time-consuming activity," Kaizer replied.

"Indeed," said the man. "But my master asks for a progress report. He grows impatient."

"Your master," Kaizer repeated. "You've never said why he's so interested in helping our cause."

"As I've said before: our goals are aligned. Bo-Katan must not remain in power. New leadership would be beneficial to Mandalore's future in the years to come."

Kaizer studied him. "You're that scared of her?"

"Not so much her, but who she has chosen as her successor."

Kaizer arched an eyebrow. "You've heard the rumors regarding Countess Wren, I see."

"As have you," stated the man, a touch of impatience entering his voice. "I would hope you have a plan to counter Bo-Katan. Sabine Wren is a problem, one that must be handled swiftly."

He leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed. "We do have a plan. Sacha is ready. She has long prepared for her role in the events to come."

"Yes, your young ward . . ." The older man sounded doubtful.

"Is there a problem?" asked Kaizer sharply.

"The prophecy. Is she aware of it?"

"Of course she is. Her whole life is based around it."

"So is Sabine Wren's," countered the other man.

"Only she is not aware of it," replied Kaizer. "That gives us the advantage. The Countess remains in the dark without that knowledge. My sources tell me that Bo-Katan has not informed her about any of it."

The cloaked man went quiet for a moment. Then, he said, "I worry about your ward's lineage. It could affect her loyalties."

Kaizer gritted his teeth. "Sacha is loyal to me. To the cause. I have no doubt of that."

"She is a Wren. They are known traitors."

"Rebels," corrected Kaizer. "They fought for Mandalore. Even misguided as they were. And Sacha is only half-Wren, on her father's side."

The other man snorted disdainfully. "Your continued affection towards Clan Wren baffles me considering your own lineage, Kaizer. Your own clan - "

" - Deserved what happened to them," retorted Kaizer. "I don't need to be reminded of my own history, old man. Sacha and I will see the plan through. Bo-Katan will fall, and Countess Wren will never take the throne. I stake my honor on it."

"And what of my master's gift? Should your plan fail, are you willing to use it?"

Kaizer paused, feeling sick at the thought.

The Endfire. Kyr Tracyn.

"Better Mandalore be turned to dust, then let it fall into the hands of Sabine Wren in the future," urged the cloaked man. "She will bring your people to ruin. My master has seen it. You have seen it. That is why you agreed to accept our gift."

Kaizer chose his next words carefully. "It is to be used as a last resort, only."

The other man settled into dissatisfied silence but said nothing further. Kaizer took that as his cue to leave.

"I wonder what your father would think of you now, Kaizer Saxon," said the cloaked man to his back.

Kaizer slowly turned around, his blood freezing at the mention of his surname. It had been many years since he had last heard it uttered out loud. He had long ago chosen to walk away from it.

He shrugged. "He's dead, old man. And you will be too if you mention him again in my company."

A flash of a malicious grin underneath the cloaked hood. "You are so much like him, my dear boy. Not just in looks - your heart, as well."

Kaizer's eye twitched. His fingers rested on the butt of his blaster, holstered on his side, tapping away gently.

After a few tense moments, he finally restrained the impulse to murder the other man and stalked away into the ruined city.

Minutes passed and the cloaked figure stepped out and made for his own exit, taking short, cautious steps through the ruins.

When both men were long gone, Koska Reeves - personal guard to Lady Bo-Katan - stepped out of her hiding spot nearby. Checking her comm-link to ensure that their conversation had been recorded in its entirety, thanks to a data-recorder cleverly hidden in a shelf within the ruined archive, she then sent a quick message to her lady.

"Lady Kryze," said Koska. "You heard everything?"

"Yes," came the reply. "Are you safe? Did they see you?"

"I'm safe for the moment. They never saw me, my Lady."

"Good work," said Bo-Katan, her voice full of pride. "Come to my private suite immediately. We have much to discuss. The Elders are already here."

"At once," responded Koska. She paused. "Permission to speak informally, my lady?"

"Granted, Koska."

She let out a deep breath. "This is real kriffing bad, Bo."

"Understatement of the century," came Bo-Katan's dry reply. "We are knee deep in bantha poo-doo, I admit."

Koska thought back to what was said in the clandestine meeting. "Is it true?" she whispered. "There was another survivor of Clan Wren?"

There was a long pause - so long, Koska thought the signal had died. Finally, Bo-Katan said quietly, "Yes. Very few knew about it outside of the family."

"Even Sabine?" asked Koska.

"No. She was the exception. Her mother made sure she never knew."

"Why?" she asked. "Why wouldn't she want her to know?"

"Ursa had her reasons," said Bo-Katan. "But the main thing, as always with her, was that she was protecting Sabine."

Koska only knew Ursa Wren by reputation and from the stories told by Bo-Katan. The idea of a family member keeping the existence of one of their own a secret from another . . . she couldn't fathom it. How would that secret serve to protect Sabine?

"How - how does Sacha exist?" asked Koska. "And how did the son of Gar Saxon come to find her?"

"That's a long story, Koska. I'll explain it more when you return."

She nodded to herself and prepared her jetpack for take-off. The dark, ruined city around her suddenly felt malevolently alive - and it also felt like it was watching her.

But, one last question remained. "Bo?"

"Yes, Koska?"

"Are you going to call them?" she asked.

"Yes, I am," said Bo-Katan. "We need their help."

Koska thought for a second. "Everything will change once Sabine knows the truth," she said solemnly. "And this prophecy, too . . . she'll hate you, Bo. She might not be on Mandalore's side, once this is all over."

A deep sigh emitted from the comm-link. "I'll take that chance. But you don't know her like I do, Koska. I know her heart. I know who she gets it from. She'll make the right choice."

Koska didn't have anything to say in return. The words from Bo-Katan were hardly comforting. But it was all she had.

The future of Mandalore rested upon Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger's shoulders from here on out. Their choices in the days to come would decide everything.

Koska shook herself mentally. There was still work to be done, and Bo-Katan would need her.

A Mandalorian and a Jedi, she thought, dark amusement flickering through her. They'll definitely cause problems, for sure. I just hope it's for the other side and not us.

She sighed. It was going to be a busy couple days ahead, full of violence and history shaping events.

Koska Reeves activated her jetpack and flew into the long, dark night.

TO BE CONTINUED IN:

THE FIRST VERSE OF A SONG OF STARBIRDS AND WOLVES

RECKONING

#sabezra #sabine wren #ezra bridger #bo katan kryze #star wars rebels #star wars #ezrabine #ahsoka show #ahsoka #sabezra fanfiction

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velvet-vexations · 3 days

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I find your reading of Kipperlily really interesting and valuable (even when I don't agree). But I think it's not accurate to suggest that Brennan is setting up something more complex and nuanced with her and it hits on something that's very frustrating for me with the Dimension 20 fandom. I love Brennan. I think he's a great storyteller with very interesting ideas and a generally empathetic attitude toward his characters. But he gets all of the credit for D20s storytelling successes, whether he deserves it or not, and none of the blame for its failings, even when he deserves it. And I think suggesting that he's trying to do something awesome with Kipperlily that the IH are ignoring or not picking up is massively overly generous to him and massively unfair to them. He built her to trigger the reactions he's getting from them, and he set up the jealousy reveal to make them angrier at her. I think there's a chance that he could end up leaning into something more sympathetic because of her age at the end (although the idea that D20 doesn't treat minors as villains is one fandom has been batting around for a while that I really don't understand: Biz Glitterdew? Anyone?). But I think suggesting that Brennan is trying to do anything other than make her hateable is way off-base. That doesn't mean your reading of the character or situation is wrong. Sometimes the best stories aren't what the writers intended. But it feels frustrating to me to see him once again credited him with something he's not actually doing. And the rest of the IH getting criticism for something he's equally a part of (Especially when he was the player dodging nuance left and right when Aabria tried to do something actually interesting with the "villains" of Burrow's End)

I understand your point. I think a lot of the collaborative storytelling in TTRPGs like this is what the players choose to follow up on, though, and players aren't like, necessarily wrong for not missing or ignoring some things. Brennan signaling that Kipperlilly's story can be engaged via empathy isn't much difference than saying a dragon can be fought or you can answer it's riddle. It's like, you can do the gunfight if you want to or you can sneak in the back but on a grand scale that can only be done in a TTRPG.

I said he's "desperately" trying to signal it to the players because I'm a little bothered about the intensity of Ally and Siobhan's reactions to KLCK and the way it feels like none of them are even hearing it, but ultimately there's very little I think any of his players could do that he wouldn't try his best to work with and I agree he does not necessarily consider this absolutely essential.

The only time I can think of him seeming to have actually had an emotionally rough time with was the climax of Mice & Murder. I normally really dislike pouring over every frame of every microexpression like that because it's usually in the service of "everyone at the table is constantly seething at Ally" conspiracy theories, but I blame BLeeM much more for that going down as it did than Rekha and he doubtlessly did too with none of his potential frustration actually being aimed at her. Other than that, it's his nature to roll with where the players want to take their characters, so I don't think he's like, banging his head against the wall trying to make the IHs understand she's sympathetic or that it's the only possible solution to anything, it's just a part of what he's constructed.

I'll say though about things he's also doing, I also don't like that his presentation of KLCK digging up Euegenia was threatening to destroy her grave and not like, digging up her corpse in order to "find the rogue teacher". So he does seem to think of her as more actively sinister than I do, at least in her current state of mind which is not necessarily the end of the discussion.

Also, about the villains in Freshman Year, that was a very, very long time ago and everything was a lot rougher and so even was Brennan as a person back then. I don't think it's farfetched at all that he's gotten even more empathetic and dedicated to praxis than he used to be and is less willing to have a bunch of underage villains get slaughtered like any other enemy and go to Actual Hell for their sins.

#dimension 20 #kipperlilly copperkettle

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snek-panini · 3 days

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Got a bit of a different bookbinding post today. @renegadeguild got an ask from a new binder saying they were intimidated by everyone's gorgeous binds (me too, actually, some of you guys are scary good), and so they've asked people to share their first binds. And I realized I'd never even taken photos of my first one, so here it is, warts and all:

This is E.M. Forster's The Machine Stops, a public domain scifi short story that you can read for free at the link. The first reason I chose it was that it's an interesting story, and I'd bought a print-on-demand copy a few years previously that was just terrible. Baffling cover choices, basic errors in the typeset (like quotes that face the wrong way), weird size that didn't fit on my shelf; just not a good product. I couldn't do it with more indifference than the PoD people. The second reason was that I was too intimidated by the thought of asking a fic writer if I could bind their story and then producing something with a thousand sloppy beginner mistakes, and then they'd want to see photos and I'd have to show them this and it would have been mortifying, but Forster has been dead since 1970 so I could not disappoint him. It was very freeing. I bound it in 2021 as an experiment, to see if I liked this hobby enough to stick to it. The cover is green cardstock and faux leather scrapbook paper that I bought at... probably Hobby Lobby. I added the title later, as a practice project when I first got my Cricut; for the first two years of its existence it had a blank cover.

There are more photos under the cut!

In this photo we can see:

--Too much glue when attaching the leather-print paper, so it oozed out onto the cover.

--Cricut font too thin and too much heat/too long of a press, so the letters have gaps and the glue also oozed out here. It's a continuing theme with this bind.

--I tried to use a bone folder to give it a sharper hinge crease and accidentally pressed too hard and tore a hole in the paper; you can see this in the little white vertical line near the top of the hinge

The fore edge is not square. I actually don't remember why this happened. I may have eyeballed the board position when I made the case, or the paper may have slipped while the glue was wet, or I cut it crooked and didn't notice till later. Either way it's bad enough that the book doesn't stand on its own. There was a crooked man/who walked a crooked mile/and found a crooked sixpence/against a crooked stile./He bought a crooked cat/which caught a crooked mouse/and they all loved together in a little crooked house, and I bet they read this little crooked book from their little crooked library.

Top view, you can see that the case is too big and the text block doesn't sit straight in it. It has no endbands or bookmark, and it's hard to see in this photo but there's glue on the top of it, at the spine. This still happens to me but I know how to trim books now so this bit gets cut off. You can also see that the scrapbook paper has some cracks where its white core is visible. This is why I do cloth or actual faux leather on the spines now. Endpaper shows uneven trim (did I not use a ruler for this??), too much glue causing major seepage, and it doesn't sit evenly in the case. I'm not sure if this is because of the case itself being crooked, a badly-trimmed endpaper, or if the text block is also crooked. Or it may be a combination of all these factors. Unclear.

Typeset photos! Here we see:

--Title page has a page number on it. This is a pet peeve of mine and I fixed it after this book.

--There is no half title, summary, or metadata. All my later binds have these things.

--It's typeset in Times New Roman. Unlike many I don't actually hate this font but reading it reminds me of being in high school so this is the only book I used it for. Baskerville is my beloved now. The font is also much bigger than it should be. It's not huge but it's like a large print book so it feels weird for me to read it.

--Lol what are margins

--Lol what are page headers

--Actually I think I left the headers out so it wouldn't have a header on the first page of each chapter, because I knew about page breaks but not section breaks at this time.

--It's on regular-ass lightweight printer paper. There's nothing wrong with this but I switched to heavier weight paper shortly after to help with bleed-through and the light stuff feels so flimsy now.

--I didn't understand how Word's book fold worked at this time, so when I had to set the sheets per booklet and it had an option for 4, I chose that thinking it would give me 4 sheets of paper (16 numbered pages) per sig. It did not do this. It gave me 4 numbered pages per sig. So every signature is 1 sheet of paper. Every page is its own signature. I am still mad about this but it sure drove home how the setting works and also how to make kettle stitches since you make one after every sig. A book of 48 pages has 12 signatures which is just ludicrous.

--There's no photo of this but it has a piece of printer paper on the spine because I didn't have mull. I did use PVA though. Lots and lots of PVA.

--It's stitched with regular sewing thread, which means it doesn't have much swell for a book with that many sigs, but it's less sturdy and more likely to tear the paper.

And that's that! It probably sounds a bit like I was tearing it to shreds but I actually love this book quite a lot. I learned so many things that I applied to my next binds, it was an invaluable experience. It let me fall in love with the hobby so I could make the awesome things I make now. I've got those all posted on my main blog under the tag #snek makes books, or you can see them all on my side blog @papersnakepress. For a first book it's functional and readable, and still better than the PoD copy I had before. I've been thinking of doing a rebind as a sort of progress gauge, actually. Maybe next year.

#bookbinding #snek makes books #the machine stops #it's not winning any beauty contests #or technical skill contests either #but it's mine and i love it #first bind

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