Call me Tally | He/Her Ace Aro with a little (whatever i am)LW on the side | My birthday is January 29th | Over 18 | Fibromyalgia is a bitch | ENFP | hoping to do my own thing someday | Pacific Standard Time | My Art blog is @mellowartscape but I don't use it | Trans Rights | leave things better than you found them
So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.
So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.
But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?
In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.
Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download
Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title:
No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.
Now you’re going to need some materials: 8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife
You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.
Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:
use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.
Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.
Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.
You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.
Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour
In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock
Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)
Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.
Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine
Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.
Voila:
I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.
The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.
If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders.
I know @prismatic-bell has posted a few times about what you can add to your printout to make it last longer and it make it helpful to future archivists, but it’s literally this easy to make your own little library of your favorite fics.
as my own direct immediate list of game grievances i hate that stardew valley expects you to side against a wheelchair user who is upset that he was moved without his consent. i hate that the mass effect trilogy gives you visible scarring as a direct result of choosing mean dialogue and heals it if you’re nice. i hate that the vampire the masquerade ttrpg has a monstrous player class that can appear as horrible vampiric monsters or as visibly disabled people and both of these appearances are mechanically the same. i hate that dark souls games have a difficulty level implemented in a way that cannot be adjusted for disability. i hate that i can play as a mermaid or a werewolf or a horse in the sims games but can’t use a wheelchair. i hate that the ace attorney games have so much flashing and not all of the games can disable it. i hate that disability is constantly something that happens to teach a lesson, i hate that disability is something that happens as a punishment, i hate that disability is either compensated perfectly with no drawbacks or something that is endlessly sought to be cured. i hate that no character customization will ever include the mobility aids i use, that the player avatars that represent me will never look like me. i am so goddamn annoyed and so goddamn tired.
not to talk about doctor who but remember being a lonely depressed teenager and hearing him say ‘900 years of time and space and i’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important’
he was like ‘just this once-everybody lives’ and i chased that shit with homosexual determination for every day since, like maybe through pure force of will i could save everyone i loved from a system that wanted us dead
nimona is abt living in a surveillance police state where the only path to acceptance is conformity as a tool of oppressing those like you. it’s about how a privileged white woman afraid of imagined dangers can often be the greatest threat of all. it’s about how our nature is acceptance, but even a single moment of misinformed paranoia can give rise to lasting cycles of bias and abuse. it’s about how systems of belief will always find a way to validate the harm they inflict upon others, even if it means turning one child into a myth and the other to a monster. nimona is also. a film about a dancing pink shark in sunglasses
is there anyone out there with a nyt cooking subscription
will they send me the chamomile tea cake with strawberry icing recipe
This buttery, chamomile tea-scented loaf is a sweet pop symphony, the Abba of cakes. A pot of flowery, just-brewed chamomile isn’t required for drinking with slices of this tender loaf but is strongly recommended. In life and in food, you always need balance: A sip or two of the grassy, herbal tea between bites of this cake counters the sweetness, as do freeze-dried strawberries, which lend tartness and a naturally pink hue to the lemony glaze. This everyday loaf will keep on the counter for 3 to 4 days; be sure the cut side is always well wrapped.
Ingredients Yield: One 9-inch loaf
½ cup/115 grams unsalted butter 2 tablespoons/6 grams chamomile tea (from 4 to 6 tea bags), crushed fine if coarse 1 cup/240 milliliters whole milk Nonstick cooking spray 1 cup/200 grams granulated sugar ½ teaspoon coarse kosher salt 2 large eggs 1 large lemon 2 teaspoons baking powder 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 1½ cups/192 grams all-purpose flour 1 cup/124 grams confectioners’ sugar ½ cup/8 grams freeze-dried strawberries
Preparation
Step 1
In a small saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add 1 tablespoon chamomile to a large mixing bowl. Pour the hot melted butter over the chamomile and stir. Set aside to steep and cool completely, about 1 hour. Step 2
Use the same saucepan (without washing it out) to bring the milk to a simmer over medium-high heat, keeping watch so it doesn’t boil over. Remove from the heat, and stir the remaining 1 tablespoon chamomile into the hot milk. Set aside to steep and cool completely, about 1 hour. Step 3
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9-by-5-inch loaf pan with the nonstick cooking spray and line with parchment paper so the long sides of the pan have a couple of inches of overhang to make lifting the finished cake out easier. Step 4
Add the sugar and salt to the bowl with the butter, and whisk until smooth and thick, about 1 minute. Add the eggs, 1 at a time, vigorously whisking to combine after each addition. Zest the lemon into the bowl; add the baking powder and vanilla, and whisk until incorporated. Add the flour and stream in the milk mixture while whisking continuously until no streaks of flour remain. Step 5
Transfer the batter to the prepared pan and bake until a skewer or cake tester inserted in the center comes out clean (a few crumbs are OK, but you should see no wet batter), 40 to 45 minutes. Cool in the pan on a rack for 30 minutes. Step 6
While the cake cools, make the icing: Into a medium bowl, squeeze 2 tablespoons juice from the zested lemon, then add the confectioners’ sugar. Place the dehydrated strawberries in a fine-mesh sieve set over the bowl and, using your fingers, crush the brittle berries and press the red-pink powder through the sieve and into the sugar. (The more you do this, the redder your icing will be.) Whisk until smooth. Step 7
If needed, run a knife along the edges of the cake to release it from the pan. Holding the 2 sides of overhanging parchment, lift the cake out and place it on a plate, cake stand or cutting board. Discard the parchment. Pour the icing over the cake, using a spoon to push the icing to the edges of the cake to encourage the icing to drip down the sides dramatically. Cool the cake completely and let the icing set.
CHEERS TO GUY WALTON FOR “OUTING” THE FOSSIL FUEL COMPANIES
From the article:
Walton has devised his own criteria for named heatwaves in the US, based on duration and extremity, on a one to five scale similar to hurricanes. Heatwave Chevron is classed as a four and is “historic”, Walton said. The meteorologist said he has a list of 20 oil and gas companies – including Exxon and Shell – for upcoming heatwaves and will turn to coal companies if he runs out of names.
OUTSTANDING MOVE
Y'all know what to do. Use Walton’s naming system. Make it catch on.
My stage career began when I was a little under two months old, when I took the spotlight as Baby Jesus in a Christmas pageant. I’m told that I did a wonderful job and slept calmly through the whole thing, which can only speak to my talents as an actress, because I was 1. the wrong gender 2. a colicky screaming demon of a baby and 3. about as far from divine as it’s possible for an allegedly-human child to be.
I continued to be actively involved in theater as a kid (and frequently played roles of various small animals, because I was tiny for my age). Around the age of ten, I was cast as the lead character in a musical about cowboys that I no longer remember the name of. It was my first real lead role, and I took it very, very seriously. And because I am myself, that means I maaaaybe went…a little overboard.
My character’s introduction was early in the play, accompanied by the crack of a bullwhip. This was more-or-less pre internet (or, at least, our director was not tech-savvy enough to find sound effects online) and we didn’t have a sound effect track for that noise. There were plans to acquire the appropriate sound effect before opening night, but I rapidly tired of making my entrance during rehearsals to the sound of someone yelling “BULLWHIP NOISE!”
This, I thought to myself, is a problem I can solve.
I learned early in life that it’s good to be friends with people who have skills; they always come in handy eventually. After rehearsals one day, I put on my cowboy boots and biked a couple miles over to my friend Grace’s house. I went down to their basement and knocked on her older brother’s door.
“Hello,” I said. “I need to learn how to use a bullwhip.”
“….Okay,” he said. It did not seem to occur to him that he might ask further questions about why I, a tiny horrible munchkin composed exclusively of rage and pointy elbows, needed to be weaponized any further. Clearly, I had come to the right person.
My friend’s older brother would have been an SCA nerd, if SCA was a thing where we were. Instead, he was one of those unsupervised 4H kids with weird hobbies, largely oriented around ancient forms of combat. He was somewhere in his late teens at this time, and he liked to make stuff. It was an urge I, even at age ten, could sympathize with. His name was Aron.
Aron got out his bullwhip (which I had noticed hanging on his wall on a prior visit, and had filed away mentally under a for future use tab) and we went to the backyard.
“Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron began, “Swinging the bullwhip.”
We rapidly discovered that since I was god’s tiniest, angriest creation, a full-size bullwhip was way too long for me to use. Aron’s shins suffered for my attempt.
“…Step one of using a bullwhip,” Aron said, “Making a bullwhip.”
So we went back inside, found a tanned cowhide (that he just…had? I don’t remember if there was a reason for this.) and some razor blades, and I learned how to cut and braid a bullwhip. It took a few tries, and I wound up coming back for a while, because I kept getting frustrated with the bullwhip-braiding process and Aron kept distracting me with bait like: “Hey kid, wanna learn to make some chainmail?” and “Hey kid, wanna fletch some arrows?” and “Hey kid, wanna try doing horseback archery?”
Obviously the answer to these questions was “BOY, WOULD I EVER!” Some delays are necessary to the artistic process.
(At one point my mom asked me “Hellen, what are you doing over at Grace’s house all the time?” And I, perfectly innocent, said, “Making weapons!” and my mother, who never understood why I was like this, but accepted that a girl has needs and those needs occasionally involve stocking a personal armory, said “Okay! Have fun!”)
Soon, the bullwhip, size extra small, was finished. The lessons on actual bullwhip use commenced.
It should be noted that Aron was self-taught, and really had no idea what to do, so this was mostly an exercise in the two of us standing twenty feet apart and flailing wildly with our respective whips until snapping noises happened. And then we figured out what we’d done to make the snapping noises. And then we kept doing that. Extremely vigorously. So vigorously that at one point one of the bullwhips launched into the air and caught on a tree branch and we hand to drag the trampoline over so Aron could bounce me high enough to grab it. But we persisted!
Eventually we reached a point where we could line up pop cans on a fence rail and hit them off three times out of five.
Feeling extremely accomplished and like I finally understood method acting, I packed my bullwhip into my backpack for the next play rehearsal. Soon enough, it was time for me to make my entrance.
I leaped on stage in my cowboy boots and cracked the bullwhip as hard as I could, immediately launching into the song despite the fact that the sound of five feet of braided leather breaking sound barrier had startled the accompanist so badly she’d keysmashed on the piano.
The director shouted something she probably shouldn’t have shouted in a room full of small children, and then demanded, “WHERE DID YOU GET THAT!”
“I made it!” I declared proudly. “I’m a cowgirl! I can make my own bullwhip noise!”
“You…made it?”
“Yes! Because we needed a bullwhip sound effect. And bullwhips are where bullwhip sound effects come from!”
This was, of course, impeccable logic.
It is apparently difficult to argue with a gleeful ten year old who happens to be armed with a bullwhip longer than she is tall. After some negotiation, the director agreed that I could use my bullwhip for my opening song, provided that I didn’t pop it while anyone was anywhere near me on stage and I didn’t let anyone else play with it. These terms were acceptable to me.
Somehow, no one was injured and the play went off without a hitch. We can only chalk up these things to the magic of the theatre.
Nearly a decade later, an unsuspecting college classmate asked me, “Hellen, wanna take a class on bullwhip combat with me?”
kevin defunctland: while making this video, i feared that me giving a name to this man who influenced our childhoods so much through only 4 notes would taint his legacy and prevent him from being recognized as the talented and creative man that he was, which is why this entire video’s soundtrack is scored by one of his albums. i hope I’ve done his memory justice
also this week:
hbomberguy: tommy tallarico, if youre watching this, just know, i brought you into mainstream relevance, and i can take you out of it just as easily
One funny thing to me about across the spiderverse was that like. You KNOW Hobie doesn’t fuck with cops. You KNOW he was standing there like chewing on the inside of his cheek Not saying anything really really insensitive about Miles’ dad. Spider-punk went the whole film without oinking at anybody I think his restraint is commendable
Miles, 15 years old, likes his dad: we can’t just let people die c'mon guys!
Everyone else: I understand but please listen it’s part of the timeline we can’t change it without destroying the universe–
Hobie standing over there fidgeting with a pin on his vest that says “ACAB” on it:
[ID: tags from @avengerphobic that read “#hobie brown #he has blue shoelaces which means hes killed a cop so im sure he was like screaming on the inside #spiderverse spoilers” /end ID]
Hobie, quietly: I’d kill your dad myself to be honest
Miles: what?
Hobie: nuffink
Important to note that in the comics he has not only killed cops (he lives in an ultrafascist universe where the cops have venom symbiotes) he also cut off the president’s head with his guitar
Extremely swag thank you
One note: “cut off” sounds like he’s got a blade in his guitar, but he doesn’t. It’s a blunt instrument. He just swung it hard enough to overcome the strength of his neck and rock-em-sock-em’d him
It’s worth noting that Kenneth spent the entire episode making the game (and the subsequent fight) as inclusive as possible for JJ and his disabled friends (all of whom were played by disabled actors/actresses).
Last night I had a dream I woke up to find that my house had been turned into a Smart House with every wall being a digital screen including the roof so I could see it even laying on bed and the Siri voice said “Don’t worry. You are perfectly safe in your Apple Smart Home™️” knowing I have a BIG phobia of intruders especially at night and it continued with “Let’s explore the neighborhood from the comfort of your home” so it opened google maps and accidentally zoomed past a shitty jpeg of the girl from The Ring standing outside my house and it said “ignore that”. woke up laughing
Found this reddit post. This kinda makes me feel better. And it’s something I think about sometimes because I always feel like regardless of how hard I work on something I don’t get anywhere.
Psychology is amazing folks and more of it needs to be common knowledge
Good for my own information…
This really explains 1) some of the gaps in my childhood and 2) my steadily worsening ability to remember shit and actually take in new experiences as anything other than an inconvenience keeping me from sitting at home sleeping or staring at the tv for hours not taking anything in
You know, if we DO make contact with aliens within the next hundred years-ish, enough people are going to give the Vulcan salute to the first alien they see in real life (whether out of quivering excitement, lol memeitude, or sheer awkward, panicked grasping for the one prominent alien greeting nested in the social conscious) that there’s a solid chance that it becomes a thing we’re known for as humans.
Live Long and Prosper, my friends.
Leonard Nimoy would openly, unironically weep with joy if that happened.
In an interview, Nimoy mentioned how delighted he was that people the world over greeted each other with “the Vulcan salute,” because it meant “they were going out and blessing each other.”
I’ve always been an atheist, but I still think it’s a lovely sentiment to greet someone with “May you have a long and bountiful life, and I wish for good things to happen to you.”
It’s an excellent greeting.
It’s non-threatening. You not only can’t hold a weapon in that hand, the position itself is awkward enough to be useless for combat. It’s not something that easily switches to a punch or strike.
It doesn’t involve touch contact - avoids both cultural barriers to touch and problems of disease or incompatible skin types. (Don’t have to shake the hand of the volcano aliens.)
It’s clearly deliberate, unlike some kinds of bowing. And it can be mirrored by a wide range of body types, even if they don’t have “hands” or “fingers” - an octopus-being that holds up a tentacle in response would be recognized.
And the sentiment it conveys (the Vulcan version; I have no idea about the original Jewish meaning) is likewise pretty universally acceptable.
It’s the Priestly Blessing (although in some Reform synagogues the rabbi will do it rather than calling up all congregants of priestly lineage to do it–i.e. everyone whose last name is Cohen or Katz or Kaplan or whatever is supposed to go up and collectively bless the community together).
The words match the oldest excerpt of the Bible found by archeologists, on amulets in grave goods dating from before the big redaction project that actually produced the Bible in its written forms. (NB: Jewish amulets usually take the form of written text; this is even more true in the modern era.) There is a real sense in which this blessing predates Jewish religion as we usually understand it.
The translation is “May HaShem bless and keep you, may HaShem’s face shine on you and show you favor, may HaShem lift his face to you and give you peace.”
In the Jewish religious context, “may HaShem bless and keep you” means, like, may God decide that you’re going to keep living a while longer. So the benediction literally means Live Long and Prosper in Peace.
