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rafayelgod · 2 months ago

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🔞WARNING THIS IS ADULTS CONTENT🔞

NSFW, Fanfiction, Not for kids!, 18+, Dominance, BDSM

What if They Caught You Watching Porn in Their Bedroom? 🔞💦

🔞 Please be advised: This story contains explicit sexual content, including descriptions of masturbation and consensual sexual interaction, and explores themes of possessiveness and dominance by the character. Reader discretion is advised.

Okay Hunter (MC/You) here are five individual scenarios depicting how each of the Love and Deepspace characters would react if they walked in on you watching porn in their bedroom within this alternative universe.

1. Rafayel

You were sprawled out across Rafayel's ridiculously soft bed, letting the afternoon sun warm your face. He was supposed to be at the studio, sketching or dealing with some gallery drama. Perfect time for... research. You'd found a particularly interesting video online and were completely engrossed, the screen glowing with explicit details.

Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open with a cheerful, slightly dramatic flourish.

"Cutie! I'm home! Guess what I got you-"

You jumped, slamming the laptop shut with a speed you didn't know you possessed. Your face instantly flamed, blood rushing to your cheeks. Rafayel stood in the doorway, eyes wide not with anger, but with surprise, his signature playful grin already starting to form. He had a small box in his hand, likely a gift.

He tilted his head, purple eyes sparkling with mischief. "Whoa there, Miss Bodyguard. What's got you looking like a ripe tomato?" He took a step closer, his gaze flicking towards the closed laptop on the bed. "And what were you hiding?"

He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning in conspiratorially. "Don't tell me... were you watching something spicy?" He wiggled his eyebrows, completely unashamed. "Getting ideas, Cutie?"

Your embarrassment was a physical wave. "N-no! It was... uh... a documentary!"

He let out a light, musical laugh. "A 'documentary,' huh? Does it feature... anatomy in great detail?" He leaned closer still, his voice dropping to a playful purr. "You know, you don't have to watch static images on a screen when you have the real thing right here. Isn't my physique much more... artistically inspiring?"

He reached out and gently traced the line of your jaw, his grin turning softer but still full of knowing charm. "Maybe I could offer a private, live-action tutorial instead? Much more... interactive, don't you think?" He didn't seem jealous, just highly amused and eager to turn the situation into a chance to tease and flirt.

"So," he whispered, his face close to yours, "about that 'documentary'... care to share what you learned?"

2. Zayne

You were in Zayne's impeccably neat bedroom. He had an emergency shift at the hospital, giving you unexpected free time in his quiet, sterile space. You'd been feeling a bit stressed lately and decided a distraction was in order. You found what you were looking for on your tablet, headphones on, lost in the private world on the screen.

The door opened quietly, no preamble, no loud entrance. You didn't even hear it until you felt a presence standing near the foot of the bed.

You pulled off your headphones with a gasp, the bright screen still visible in your lap. Zayne stood there, dressed in his scrubs, looking at you with his usual calm, intelligent gaze. His expression was unreadable for a moment, then his eyes drifted down to the tablet screen.

Your face felt like it was on fire. You fumbled with the device, trying to turn it off, wishing the floor would swallow you whole.

"Honey?" His voice was soft, carrying an unexpected hint of surprise but no harshness. He didn't look away from the screen immediately, his expression remaining composed, though you thought you saw the tiniest flicker of something in his green eyes.

Finally, he looked back at you, his expression gentle, almost clinical in its lack of judgment, yet with that specific tenderness he reserved only for you. "Is... everything alright, Baby?"

You stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence.

He walked closer, sitting carefully beside you on the bed. He didn't snatch the tablet or scold you. Instead, he just looked at you, his gaze steady and reassuring. "There's no need to be so flustered, Honey. It's... a natural human interest."

He paused, a very faint, almost imperceptible smirk touching his lips. "Though, I must admit, I'm curious. Are you... studying something specific?" His voice was low, simple, devoid of any overt flirtation, yet the implication hung in the air.

He reached out and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Perhaps if you have questions... or require further practical demonstration... you could just ask me, Baby." His eyes held yours, calm, rational, but with an underlying sweetness that made your heart flutter even amidst the embarrassment. "I'm always available to help you... understand."

3. Xavier

You were relaxing in Xavier's room, the one place you both felt truly safe after a long day hunting Wanderers. He'd said he was just grabbing something from his car. You took the opportunity to browse, and well, ended up on a site that definitely wasn't about alien biology. You were captivated by the on-screen action, forgetting about the world outside the glow of the screen.

The door opened slowly, and Xavier shuffled in, looking typically sleepy, eyes half-closed. "My Love, where did you put my..."

His voice trailed off as he saw you, eyes wide with surprise, laptop open on your lap. His sleepy haze vanished in an instant, replaced by sharp alertness as his gaze fell on the screen. His blue eyes narrowed slightly.

Your heart leaped into your throat. You slammed the laptop shut with a cringe. "Xavier! I... um..."

He stood straighter, the charm fading into a look of intense focus. He walked towards the bed, his earlier weariness completely gone. He sat down beside you, not roughly, but with a possessive closeness.

"My Love," he said, his voice low and serious, a hint of possessiveness already coloring it. "What were you watching?" He didn't wait for an answer, his eyes searching yours. "Why are you looking at that?"

His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking softly, but his gaze was firm, almost troubled. "Do you... do you need something more than I'm giving you?" The question was laced with insecurity and fierce protectiveness. "Why look at strangers... when you have me?"

He leaned closer, his scent of ozone and something uniquely him surrounding you. His voice dropped to a gravelly whisper. "Let me show you, My Love. Let me show you there's nothing on that screen that compares to what we have." He leaned in, kissing you with a depth that was both possessive and desperately wanting to prove his point.

"You only need me," he murmured against your lips, pulling you closer. "Just me, My Love."

4. Sylus

You were in Sylus's luxurious, almost intimidatingly large bedroom. He was out handling Onychinus business - something involving 'negotiations' and 'asset management'. You felt brave enough to occupy his space, and maybe just bold enough to indulge in something equally bold on your tablet. You were enjoying the explicit display when a deep voice cut through the silence.

"Well now, kitten. What have we here?"

You froze. Sylus stood in the doorway, a tall, commanding figure leaning casually against the frame. He wasn't smiling, but his dark red eyes held a glint of amusement and something undeniably predatory as they scanned you and then the tablet screen in your lap.

You snapped the tablet off, your face burning. "Sylus! You're back early!"

He pushed off the doorframe and walked slowly towards you, his movements smooth and confident. He didn't look surprised or embarrassed, only intrigued. "Early? Or just in time?" His gaze lingered on the tablet, then back to you, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "Getting ideas, sweetie?"

He reached the bed and stood over you, his sheer size making you feel like a tiny creature caught in his gaze. He reached down and gently took the tablet from your trembling hands, placing it aside without looking at it.

"You know, kitten," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated with power and charm. "I find it incredibly... stimulating... knowing you're in my personal space, thinking about carnal things." He leaned down, bracing his hands on either side of you on the bed, trapping you.

"But," he continued, his voice turning more dominant, "didn't I tell you? The only man you need to study... is me." He lowered himself further, his face close to yours, his eyes intense. "Let me show you how a real man pleases his sweetie. Let me show you all the things you were only dreaming about."

His smirk widened, bold and unapologetic. "No need for a screen, kitten. The show is live, and you have a front-row seat."

5. Caleb

You were in Caleb's room, which was a chaotic mix of military neatness and personal indulgence. He was often away on duty, leaving you to occupy his space when you missed him. You were watching something particularly intense on your laptop, lost in the visuals, when the door swung open sharply behind you.

"Pipsqueak? Thought I'd find you here." His voice was light, playful, but there was an undercurrent of something else you knew well.

You flinched, spinning around, trying to hide the screen. Your face must have given you away instantly. Caleb stood there, already shedding his jacket, but his playful expression vanished as he saw your reaction and the laptop on the bed. His black eyes, usually warm with affection, turned sharp and intense, the purple depth within them seeming to darken.

He didn't say anything else immediately. He just walked towards the bed, his footsteps deliberate. He reached you and his hand shot out, not to touch you gently, but to snatch the laptop closed with a sharp snap.

"What the hell were you watching?" His voice was no longer playful. It was low, rough, laced with possessiveness and a controlled fury. His eyes bored into yours, demanding an answer.

Your breath hitched. The casual charm was gone, replaced by the dark, obsessive side you knew existed beneath the surface. "Caleb, I... it was just..."

He leaned over you, his body language dominating, trapping you against the headboard. "Just what, Pipsqueak? Looking at other people? Imagining things with someone who isn't me?" His grip on the laptop tightened, his knuckles turning white.

"Didn't I make it clear?" he growled, his voice dangerously soft. "You belong to me. Your eyes are only for me. Your thoughts are only for me." He tossed the laptop carelessly onto the floor. "Why do you need that when you have me?"

He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, his intensity overwhelming. "You will only see these things with me, Pipsqueak. Only me." He gripped your chin firmly, his thumb tracing your lip. "Now, let me remind you who you belong to." His kissed you, not sweetly, but with demanding possessiveness, a clear statement of ownership. "You're mine. And you will never look at anyone else like that again. Understand?"

#love and deepspace smut #sylus #lads sylus #love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #smut #zayne #rafayel #caleb

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luckykiwiii101 · 5 months ago

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“SPOTTED: ANONYMOUS F*CKERS LOSING SOMETHING NOBODY KNEW THEY EVEN HAD…THEIR COMMON SENSE.”

ﾟ blah blah blahhhh ࿐

Hey Upper East Siders.

Pardon me for the time I took to write this, but I wasn’t sure whether to write a gossip post, or a eulogy, for some people’s common sense, that is.

Want to hear a story? Once upon a time, Mary had a little lamb, then the lamb grew up, gave birth, and that explains some people on this app. They follow each other, like sheep, one by one.

and that’s exactly what some of you are doing.

But when there’s so much smoke, who cares if there’s fire? Liars, Liars, Liars. I’m running out of fingers here, there’s too many to count!

But who’s talking? Oh wait, the lack of belief some people have in themselves. Like the great gossip girl I am, I decided to open my inbox to answer some pending success stories that have been sent to me. Instead, one anon said “slit your wrists”. I don’t usually like being told how to do things but if you’re going to tell me to do something, at least give me a physical demonstration. Maybe a…tutorial? Funny that you give me advice in a field you’re so specialised in…at least we have one thing in common. Someone give this one a pay rise. Since everything else in their life seems to be at an all time low.

As usual, it doesn’t end there. Another desperate lower east sider sent me: “You write things to yourself in your anonymous messages, come on, they're already realizing it.” Darling, just because you would, doesn’t mean I would. My blog runs on authenticity, not so-called tumblr “fame”. But of course, that’s just one concept your head’s too thick to wrap around.

Anyway, let’s move onto the bigger picture here. But…you might want to wear a gas mask. I’m afraid there are too many pants on fire! Allegedly. I’m sorry, that wasn’t clear? Let me say it again. Allegedly. Maybe if you listened as much as you’d spoke, you’d hear me, and I wouldn’t have to say it again.

It’s funny to say, but usually I’M the one gossiping, not the one gossiped about. But somehow, people have magically found a way to drag me through the dirt. No that’s not a tear in my eye, it’s disappointment. Disappointment that Mary’s little lamb turned out to be the mother of such…fuckers. Motherfuckers.

But back to the point, just found it flying right over your head. Listen closely so it doesn’t happen again. SPOTTED: A few lower east siders attempting to create their own little success story debunking club. They’re running in…circles? If there’s two things we know about circles, it’s that one, they are pointless (literally), and two, running in them, gets you nowhere (also literally).

Unluckily for them, a conclusion is something they’ll never come to, but to picture proof? They might just.

Picking and choosing which success stories are fake, and then asking them to send picture proof when you don’t believe? Please, there’s only so much laughs the upper east side can hold. Since your common sense seems to be searching for the divorce papers, i’ll break it down for you. Nobody owes you picture proof of their manifestations. But just like the many previous and countless times, people would just find a way to accuse them of getting their photos/videos on Pinterest, or the good old photoshop. Well I know a shop where you can’t buy photos, and it’s called your imagination, and when you use it, not only do you find your common sense in there, but you also get exactly what you want. Not such a difficult concept to grasp is it? Keep talking and i’ll see your head peeking over the empire state building soon enough.

Now once again, onto the next idiotic attempted claim. “These success stories have such similar desires”. Oh i’m sorry? But we live in a generation full of trends. And with trends come followers. And we call those followers sheep. I’ve counted sheep so many times so far, I might just fall asleep. This might sound crazy but…people get inspired…wait for it…by other people’s…don’t scream just yet…IDEAS! I know, it’s hard to believe. Crazy right.

But in my lovely consideration of not hurting your ego, I do acknowledge the rare valid points some of you’ve made. Like bloggers suddenly having each others accounts. Like bloggers saying they’ve manifested their dream lives, yet still staying on tumblr to argue with anons who call them liars. That doesn’t really make sense, honestly, even to me. But what gets me is the idea of picking and choosing certain success stories that have common desires, similar “typing” styles, and not enough enthusiasm. Apparently that’s the criteria you need to meet, in order to have a “fake success story”…Who the actual fuck are you to decide what’s not enthusiastic enough? So just because someone’s success story doesn’t sound like how you imagine your own to turn out, therefore it’s fake? If someone isn’t freaking out and smashing their keyboard whilst writing their success story then it’s fake? Are you fucking dumb? Let me answer that for you, first of all yes, you are fucking dumb. Second of all, you look for YOUR idea of success in THEIR success stories, so when you don’t see your ideal version of success, and your ideal reaction to success, you immediately assume it’s fake, because you cannot relate to it because “it’s not how you would react or what you would manifest”. Because your dumb fucking arse cannot comprehend the world beyond your own perception. Why? Because you’re a fucking dumbarse.

Call me crazy, but if one word comes to mind, it’s projection. And yes there are liars here and there, but the struggle to believe in others successes is just the struggle to believe in yourself. If you were reading those success stories from your mansion, with your desired appearance, in your desired city, with everything you could possibly want, reading other people’s success stories wouldn’t be so difficult would it. Why? Because humans learn from experience. But some of them are just too ignorant to consider, that with every person, comes a different experience. “Oh I didn’t succeed, therefore there’s no way they could have, they’re lying!!!!” Poor babies, may I ask where this desire to look for inconsistencies in success stories came from? I think we ALL know…it’s pretty easy to disbelieve in something that you believe you can never have. What was that word again…projection.

Yet again, I can’t believe I have to remind you that it’s not you against the world. Nobody is out to get you. Loablr is not some plot to make you believe in something that isn’t real. I don’t know what level of delusion that takes but usually it’s enough to put you in a straight jacket. Get off the app and touch grass. No one will notice if you leave, trust me. But in all fairness, I’ve read a few success stories that have seemed ingenuine to me. But do I have proof of that? No. So do I make a blog “calling them out” when I have no way of 100% knowing that, or do I move on with my life and focus on my own successes instead of their alleged fake ones? You think it hasn’t occurred to people that other people could be lying? If you think otherwise, boy have I got news for you. And most IMPORTANTLY, like I said before, YOU cannot define what ingenuine is, because YOU cannot predict other people’s reactions, nor can you see them from behind their screens. And since some of you are so obsessed with “real life” proof, you still decide to ignore success stories OUTSIDE of tumblr. Especially, Celebrity success stories. So CLEARLY there’s not much we can do for you here. You claim to believe in the law of assumption, then go and fucking apply it, instead of thinking you have some valid point to “prove”. You’re not as “woke” as you think you are. I don’t care if you can’t control your suspicions of others, i’m not telling you to stop feeling suspicious, but it’s the way you go about it that matters. And the way some of you do it, is disgusting.

If there’s anyone who is currently reading this who has lied about any successes whatsoever, you’re pathetic. And I hope you feel ashamed. And yes, no one actually knows who you are, but that’s not where the consequence lies honey, the consequence lies in the fact that you don’t have anything you want. Think about that for a second. Bitch. Instead of louboutin red bottoms, you literally have a red bottom. Don’t break your knuckles trying to get the extinguisher out.

Anyway. There’s so much more I could say about how unfathomably stupid some of you are but if I were to, then I’d be here all day. So i’ll leave it at that. And keep in mind, when I don’t reply to you, or when I block you, it’s not because i’ve got nothing to say or that i’m “defeated”, it just means that you are not worth my time and that i’ve probably already made a point that yet again flew over your head that you therefore missed.

As if some of you haven’t embarrassed yourselves enough already, you’ve decided to dig your holes even deeper. Maybe a little too deep. I think i’m starting to feel the earth’s core, maybe the heat wasn’t coming from the liars fiery pants after all…

I guess success is just harder for you to believe when your self concept is buried almost as low as you, when you debunk, insult, and argue yourself to death. Ofcourse someone who’s so used to failing sees nothing but failure. Can I even blame you? You know who you are. Pathetic.

- gossip girl

#void state #void #law of assumption #loa tumblr #loassumption #loa blog #loablr #manifestation #loa #the void state #law of assumption blog #loa manifestation #law of manifestation

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omgitskaii · 1 month ago

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ive had this sitting in my drafts for ages, and they’ve really been starting to pmo now… sorry some of these are a bit self indulgent or niche, but i hope you like at least one or three ! may be my last around of hcs for these boys for awhile :)

dean does not watch sports and actually has no idea what’s going on anytime someone puts a game on. sam does though, college kids had nothing else to do but study, drink beer, and watch sports. he sometimes makes stuff up to fuck with dean

sam and dean still have charlie’s phone when she died. it’s on silent, and the boys (mostly dean) will text it sometimes whenever they miss her. most of the messages are apologies.

sam still visits jess’ grave on the anniversary of her death. he takes eileen once or twice too, because she asked.

sam doesn’t know how to cook for shit. anytime he wants to make something, he has to put on a step by step youtube tutorial video. he refuses to ask for deans help.

there’s a small amount of grace left over in the handprint on deans shoulder

whenever deans comfortable and feels safe, he can conk out anywhere. he’s fallen asleep at the table, in the middle of cooking, and has once or twice fallen asleep on sam and cas. sam was concerned at first, but now he has just accepted it and dean has designated nap times throughout the week.

sam is into wicca practise. he burns incense and sage and keeps crystals lying around the bunker, he’s slipped a few into the glove compartment of the impala

dean teases and complains, but he actually likes doing chores. it’s something that makes him feel “normal” and he likes using his hands and working.

cas and dean are soul-bound.

dean has read the bible through multiple times throughout his life (mostly at low points, and he’s had a lot,) to the point where he has memorized some passages. he’s not much for faith, but he has gone to church once or twice recently when jack became god

cas finds dean reciting passages of the bible exhilarating.

cas has multiple parenting books littered around the bunker that he sometimes flips through

sam hates cats and is strictly a dog person

cas’ eyes reflect in the dark, like how cats/most nocturnal animals do.

anytime he prays, all deans prayers go exclusively to cas without thinking. he actually prays more than he ever texts or calls cas, like it’s as easy as breathing. cas never mentions how intimate it really is for him to do this. he always listens to them

the air around cas changes whenever he’s in a room. it’s subtle, like the feeling you get when your hair stands on end, like you can tell that he’s not entirely human. normal people chalk it up to vibes or cas being intimidating or offputting. it’s not something he does on purpose

cas smells like ozone and rain.

everyone can tell what kind of mood dean is in based on the mug he grabs from the cabinet for his morning coffee

sam cant stand in crowded or stuffy places for too long or he’ll panic

john has gotten physical, but dean has always been there to take the brunt of it. because sam was the favourite, and dean believed and wanted sammy to live some semblance of a normal life as best he could. everything dean has endured has always been for sammy.

sam has this complicated relation with killing where he’s fine hunting monsters, but refuses to kill animals. he remembers as a kid bobby took them out hunting once—actually hunting, not with monsters—and when told to shoot at a squirrel, he couldn’t do it. dean shot it instead and claimed sammy did it. this is also one of the reasons he’s moved to a more vegetarian/vegan lifestyle.

sam had an emo phase as a kid. he grew out of it, but not the music; he’ll go back to listen to some emo/punk songs when he’s in a good mood. dean bullies him ruthlessly when he hears it.

deans fight-or-flight kicks in whenever someone drums their fingers or hands on the table, it takes him back to when michael would bang on the doors in his mind. he is still learning to quietly asks people to stop

sam has built up a high pain tolerance from his time in the cage but has become hyper-aware and sensitive to the lightest touches, like someone touching his hair or breathing on the back of his neck.

anytime a spell component requires blood, dean will always do it unless it’s specific. he still considers himself a weapon or catalyst, and it’s been ingrained in him to always give and give and give himself for others.

when they were kids, dean used to steal formula and food for sam when they were younger and sam knows this. now, sam will almost always go out for groceries. it’s sort of his silent way of returning the favour for dean.

dean stays up late on purpose just to talk to cas, it’s really the only point in a day they get quality time together just talking. eventually though, dean falls asleep; cas is always there in the morning.

sam, dean, and cas all enjoy watching trashy reality television shows... dean and cas like watching say yes to the dress and they both always seem to have opposite reactions ("i think the bride looks lovely in that dress. why is the mother-in-law being so critical?" "seriously, cas? that dress looks like some old ladies curtain. no way in hell is she walking down the aisle in that.") and sam and dean really enjoy watching ghost hunters, just to make fun of them.

dean’s a neat freak when it comes to his own room, borderline ocd, and sam is organized but messy, a combination of cleanliness only an ex-college student could have.

cas can make his wings corporal, but everytime he does this it takes a lot of concentration, and it becomes a bit more difficult to put them back into the aether each time. it’s also considered vulnerable/intimate for an angel to do this, or sometimes even painful to constrain their true form to simple shapes.

deans love language is acts of service, cas’ is words of affirmation, and sams is quality time.

prayers have a sound to them. when either one of the boys pray to cas, they have their own distinct tone that cas has come to recognize. sam’s is high pitched, like a clinking of a glass; he found it annoying at first, but sam’s prayers mellowed out into something similar to wind chimes. deans is a low sound, strong and comforting, akin to tires rolling over gravel and pops like crackling fire at its strongest.

cas makes it a daily ritual for dean to ask for at least one thing everyday; because dean always gives, and never takes. it’s usually little things, where dean will go to make coffee for him and cas and will sometimes get stopped on his way to the coffeemaker, and cas will just shoot him a look. cas waits until dean asks him to make him a coffee. sometime’s dean gets more vulnerable and asks for affection or quality time watching movies; he’s learning that he can have these things.

dean and claire text often, and there’s been multiple occasions that deans stayed up late on the phone with claire helping her out on her own cases with lore, experience, or a pep talk. there has also been times where deans driven out to help her. he will always make time for her.

jody, donna, and the girls invite tfw up to jody’s house for dinners every month or two when they all have time.

sam is a nerd in the sense that he knows a random facts about everything, but dean is a nerd in the sense he knows movies and comics. and cas is a nerd in the sense that he knows everything… literally.

dean and sam know basic sign language and learned it through eileen. sam is pissed that dean picked it up faster than him.

you can look at my other hc lists under #spn hcs !!

#spn hcs #spn #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #sam winchester #spn textpost #textpost #i like to believe the hypothetical grace left in his shoulder is the reason demon!dean had some morals #i apologize again it’s mostly dean cas and destiel centric #some are these are pretty niche and self indulgent also so take this list with a grain of salt #might not be ur cup of tea but it is mine !!#idk if i can think of anymore maybe last one idk !!!

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sits-bound · 11 months ago

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One year of fanbinding!

I keep thinking "I'm really new at this still" but I guess after a year, it's like, you don't have a puppy anymore, you have a dog. So now I'm in the dog phase of this hobby.

(I didn't make all of these, some were acquired in exchanges.)

In the past year, I have made around 54 books. (For the purposes of my sanity, I am not counting journals or sketchbooks, nor am I counting author/artist copies if the design was the same.)

54 books! In 52 weeks! That's basically a book a week!

Which binds are my favorites?

Ooh, that's hard. I tried to limit myself here, but these all are very special to me.

And I can't choose just one of these:

Honorable mention goes to this one, but I didn't design the typeset, so I can't take all the credit. But I do love the cover.

What's my favorite part of making books?

It's not surprising to me that typesetting is my favorite part. I designed a book for a local museum in 2007, and loved the process. Before that, I wanted to work in editorial design (I had a few jobs doing that in and after college, but that was in the olden days.)

I enjoy the part of physically creating the book too, but I find it a bit more frustrating. I'm not detail-oriented enough to make sure everything is perfect, and then I get frustrated when an endpaper is glued on slightly crookedly, or my text block isn't perfectly square. (Not that I have anyone to blame but myself!) That said, holding a completed book in my hands is the most satisfying feeling, after actually reading said book. I feel so smug when I'm reading a book I created.

I have a lot of imposter syndrome when it comes to the actual designing of covers. I know my strengths lie in manipulating existing content instead of creating it from scratch. So I need to stop comparing myself to other creators, and just do my best. We all have different styles, I tell myself.

What's next?

I'd like to learn how to sew endbands for once and for all. I have tried and given up in disgust so many times. I have watched so many videos and read many tutorials, and I just need someone to come to my house and show me in person.

I also would like to try to learn how to draw, a bit. I know I'll never be great at it, but I've also never tried to learn. I will be off work for a few months later this summer/fall, and I'd like to use that time taking some classes. Even if I could just draw designs to use on my covers, I'd be happy. I don't expect to be able to draw things or people.

I wanted to take up this hobby for a long time before I actually did it. I read through @armoredsuperheavy's guide like eighteen times before I worked up the courage to actually use it. So my advice to all of the people who tag my posts with "i wish i could do this" and "i want to do this"…do it!

#bookbinding #fanbinding #one year of bookbinding #reflecting on bookbinding

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