it took me hours to make this and i didn't find the right coloring in the end

I’m bored so here’s some general tv production stuff. I’ve been wanting to post these concepts in a meta but decided to give them mostly their own post.

We’ll round the ratio for the hourly screentime to 1 even though most network TV dramas are 42 minutes. Producers of tv networks usually like a lot of coverage and shot variety so there’s more control and they can adjust timing. When I took film/tv production classes in 2012 or so, I was taught that networks budget about 18-20 hours of footage to 1 hour(rounded) of screen time. Looking around now, that seems to still be about right from what I could find. If anything, it might be more footage because pretty much everyone uses digital now and digital is cheaper than film by a lot. I’ve heard of 40:1 but I don’t think that’s normal. It is a thing though.

Typical projected filming with actors is about 12-16 hours a day for tv. I don’t know what the schedule is for all tv, but SPN apparently films for 8 or so days an episode. 

Below are the 6 cardinal rules of editing and how much each one is supposed to matter in the cutting room. These were taught to me in school using the book: In the Blink of an Eye by Walter Murch. The first 3 are pretty obvious, the last 3 are more technical:

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Almost didn't make it

Well, I think it is safe to say that this has not been my week for planned wettings. Its finals week so obviously the number of times I can use the restroom at school is reduced, and this nearly cost me my dignity yesterday. I wore brown knee high boots, dark blue skinny jeans, and a pair of cotton, pink and white striped panties. I was taking the final for my 2nd class when I began to feel my bladder filling up. Slow at first but within an hour I really really had to go. I used my right hand to fill out the answer sheet, and had my left hand crammed into my crotch doing my best to hold it. As I moved my legs up, down, and side to side I regretted my decision earlier to not go after 1st class. An hour and a half into the test, I raised my hand and asked the proctor if I could take a quick restroom break, as it was an emergency. She said, “Absolutely not! You must finish the test first”. Deciding not to argue, I went back to finishing the test. By the time i finished 45 mins later, I was doing a full on pee pee dance in my chair and quickly becoming worried I wasn’t going to make it. I asked to go again and she said “ now that you are done, you may go”. Relieved at the thought that relief was only minutes away, I quickly got up, out of my chair. But that was a bad idea, as I stood 4-5 spurts rushed out into my pants. I grabbed my crotch, and 3 students looked at me in confusion. I acted like I hit my hand, and went off to the restroom..on the far end of the hall. Once out of the room, I inspected my crotch by pulling up on the front of my pants. Sure enough my crotch was a darker color than the rest of my pants..luckily it wasn’t visible to others. I hobbled my way down the hall, when I was only 5 feet from the door I stopped and gasped as I had no choice but to let go of my bladder for a good 6-7 seconds. I heard a faint hiss and felt the warm wetness crawling up the front of my panties and a few drops running down my legs and into my boots. I got ahold of myself and ran into the restroom. Luckily no one else was in there. I went into a stall, closed and locked the door, trembling, I was having problems unbuttoning and unzipping my pants. As I pulled my pants down, I took too long trying to take them off and just gave up on holding, the pain was too much. A violent stream came through my panties(at this point my legs were bent and I was seconds away from taking off my underwear and sitting down )and onto the butt part of my jeans, making a loud continuous “pat” sound. I grabbed and pulled down my panties faster than ever before and finished sitting on the toilet. 1 minute later I had finished and took a sigh of relief. Before I pulled my pants back on, I looked at what had happened and how bad it was. The white stripes on my panties were now dark yellow and they were soaked from the crotch up to the front with a line going through the middle of the butt. I put them back on felt the now cold wet cotton hug my crotch and front. My pants crotch was even darker than before, and had a dark spot at the lower part of my butt and a dark line up the middle. There was also a faint but visible line down my left leg into my boot. My sock was also wet. I rebuttoned and zipped my pants, did that little wiggle girls do to fix their pants and looked in the mirror. The wet spot covering the lower half of my butt and the line through the middle, as well as the line down my leg was all visible. (The leg wasn’t bad and you really had to look to find where it was.) Luckily the shirt I had on was a little too long for me and I was able to cover my butt. I went back to class and sat down, my wet clothes clinging to me the whole day. Later when I got home and changed, the pee had dried and needless to say my panties are now pink, and half white and yellow stripes. Sorry for such long stories, I try to describe the events as much as possible. Hope you liked it, and I’m sure there’s more to come😜

5 Ways to Take Advantage of Sleeping Beauties

1. Kiss their hair.

     Tetsu’s heart thudded in his chest as he covered his mouth with his hand from squealing in utter delight at the sight of the sleeping brunette before him. Having her head resting on an open book on the table, Rosa snored softly. Finding her peacefully dozing off didn’t surprise him in the least. After all, she had been costarring in tons of movies recently and with all her new responsibilities as Champion, he was surprised she hadn’t fallen asleep while reciting her lines to him only hours earlier.

     Snickering to himself, Tetsu took a seat

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Daddy Issues

Can you do an imagine were your the jokes daughter and you have a boyfriend and he goes through your phone and finds out.

A/N: Here it is, I hope it’s what you wanted!

“Stop.” You said to your boyfriend James as he was littered kisses down your neck.

He immediately stopped, his body hovering over yours.

“What is it?” He asked looking down at you.

“Get on the ground now.” You said, shoving him off you.

He quickly did as told laying on the side of your bed opposite of the door that had just banged open. Your father was never one to knock. He stalked into your room, as you tried to nonchalantly make up self, look as if you hadn’t had someone’s tongue down your throat 5 seconds ago.

“What’s up?” You said, putting on your sickly innocent voice.

“It seems I’ve made your mother mad…surprise surprise. And I need your help deary.”

“Well what’d you do to her?” You asked sliding off the bed to draw him away from James.

“I might have started seeing a new psychiatrist.”

“Oh you didn't…” you said, knowing how upset your mom would be over this. You know, since she is a psychiatrist herself… or was. Before she became Harley Quinn.

“Oh but I did… any ways I am headed out to rob a jewelry store to make it up to her hopefully. But I seem to be missing on of my hencies. But that’s not the point, I was hoping you’d distract your mother for me while I’m gone. Don’t want her to think I’m off the with psychiatrist huh? HAHA!”

“No problem, I’ll go ask her to freshen up the color on my tips.” You said while twirling the fading blue ends of your hair.

“Knew I could count on ya deary.” The joker said while turning on his heels and exiting the room.

You quickly shut the door, and looked over to see James standing up.

“You better get outta here. I’m pretty sure you’re the missing henchie my dad was talking about. Good, thing he likes how reckless you are, else he’d of shot you long ago for always bein late.”

James made his way around the bed and scooped you up in a hug twirling you around.

“You’re as clever as the devil and as twice as pretty.” He said while placing a kiss on your lips.

“Well I am his daughter.” You quipped.

An hour later you were chatting away with your mom in her bathroom as she recolored the ends of your (Y/HC) blue. When your mom was in the middle of her rant about your dad. You snuck a quick text to James, telling him to steal you something pretty.

Two hours later you were curling your freshly dyed hair when you heard the front door bang open.

“Y/N!!” You heard your father yell out.

You body instantly froze, your hands beginning to clam up. The tears started prickling behind your eyes as your anxiety started to take over. Your father was a very scary man when he wasn’t angry. And here you were the direct object of his anger. You silently moved out of your bedroom towards where you knew your father to be.
As you rounded the corner you saw him sitting very calmly in his large leather chair. He his legs were crossed and his hands resting on his knees. A large smile was plastered to his face.

“Have a seat deary.” He said, lifting his hand and gesturing for you to sit on the couch to his right

You did as told, quietly sitting down. Clasping your hands to keep them from shaking.

“What’s goin on puddin?” You mother called from the balcony of the stairs.

“Harles, come on down here. Our little girly has been keepin secrets from us.” He said to her, never taking his eyes off you.

Once your mother was sitting on the arm rest of his chair did he speak again.

“So yer over me hun?” He asked.

“What?” You replied not following a word.

“I asked if you were over me. You see I remember a time when it was me who you’d ask to steal pretty things for you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, as you wrapped your mind around what your father was saying.

“Where is he?”

“Oh don’t worry about him deary, he’s out with the boys.”

“Please, don’t hurt him?”

“Don’t beg me!” He yelled, jumping to his feet knocking your mom off the arm rest.

“You thought you were sneaky huh? Thought I wouldn’t notice the look on that boys face when you’re around? Though I wouldn’t do my investigating? Thought I wouldn’t look at his phone when it kept goin off eh??” He purred, while slowly kneeling in front of you.

He took your hands in his, closing his pale ones over yours to cease the shaking.

“Now, you know I don’t like my little girly to be scared of me. But I also don’t like my little girl sneakin around with my men either.”

He stared at you. His bright blue eyes staring into your Y/EC ones that had tears streaming down them. You hated the mind games he’d loved to play. Here he was his body calm but his words were like venom. Leaving you confused on how to act.

“I’m sorry.” You said, taking a deep breath to steady your tears.

He didn’t answer, just kept staring.

“Well an apology has always been good enough for me, what say you puddin.” Your mom said, obviously trying to defuse the tension.

He stood up, pressing his hands against your knees to gain leverage.

“I say…” he started.

He moved to stand behind Harley, massaging her shoulders.

“I say that I accept your apology. But the question remains on what to do with that boy.”

He had a glint in his eyes when he spoke. An all too familiar glint, that appeared only when your fathers heart was set on killing someone.

anonymous asked:

Sorry for messaging you like this, but I've been following you for a while and feel like I know you at this point…i just wanted to tell someone. I feel so anxious and scared rn for myself, but even more for friends of color. And I live in a v open-minded liberal community…this country just makes me want to cry. I honestly didn't think that such a huge percentage of the people here would be so hateful…thank you for always being here

I completely understand these sentiments, because I share them. I was looking forward to returning to the United States next month to see friends and family and feel at home, but now I’m not sure I want to go at all. I don’t mind telling you, I have cried over this. A lot. (And I am not a person who cries very often.) I went to bed in a state of shock at about 5:30 in the morning, and only slept because I was so tired and it hadn’t really sunk in. I woke up in the morning to my phone playing “Goodbye Blue Sky” and just burst into tears because I wasn’t ready for that at all and everything just hit me at once. So I pulled the blanket over my head and just cried it out. Then I dragged myself out of bed, took a hot shower, got dressed, and hauled my ass to the train station. I drank a bunch of strong coffee and listened to loud music for an hour on the way to Oxford and managed to keep it together until I got to the bar to meet a friend. We didn’t even say much to each other, just sat in silence and disbelief and slowly drank until it was time to go off to the Sheldonian for Margaret Atwood’s interview with Emma Smith. And here’s the important part of this long and apparently pointless story: we laughed. Margaret Atwood had some great things to say about writing and books and art and the role of all those things in the undoubtedly rough years to come. And we laughed. Yeah, old white idiots elected a sentient trash bag to the Oval Office. Yeah, life is about to get really difficult for anyone who’s not an old white idiot who elected a sentient trash bag to the Oval Office. But that is all the more reason that the rest of us have to grit our teeth and clench our muscles and soldier on. Do whatever the fuck you have to do to get yourself out of bed and fighting back, whether that’s with activism or just with art or just by refusing to tolerate hate. Trump won the election, but he hasn’t won the ideological war. That’s just started. And as much as we all feel like we’ve taken a haymaker right to the metaphysical gut, we can’t afford to just curl up and cry–at least, not for a prolonged period. So, get that out of your system. You’re not alone. Find some solidarity and go about your business–especially if your business includes sticking it to the Trash Bag. Get angry. Get active. Because that’s the only way to survive something like this. It’s going to be scary as hell. Won’t pretend otherwise. But it will not be the end of you or me.

If I could gather you all together and pour you a stiff drink and give you a hard hug and a solemn nod before sending you back out into this wreck of a world, I would. But since I can’t do that, this will have to suffice. Cheers. Hug. Nod.

Let’s go fuck things up for Trump.

My tattoos!

Don’t mind the hair. K, so this is my first tattoo. I’m pretty sure you can see what it says, but just in case you can’t read my mom’s handwriting, it says “Be strong Love always Mom”. It’s below my right collarbone. Ok, so the story behind this one. My mom, after she found out she was sick with cancer, gave me a picture of her and I in a frame. I didn’t know that she wrote this little note on the back, and I didn’t know until I moved back in August of 2013 when the frame broke. I pulled the frame out of the box, and I was upset that the frame broke because, you know, my mom gave it to me. So, I took the picture out, and when I was shaking the glass off, I saw some writing on the back. On the back it said “Brianna, you are the best daughter a mom could ask for. Always remember and always know that I love you so much. Be strong, love always, Mom.” When I saw that, I literally broke down into tears. My mom means the world to me, and I honestly had no idea that she wrote that on that picture, and when I found it, I was happy to find a little note she wrote me. I really loved the last part of it, and I decided that was what I wanted for a tattoo. You know that saying “Don’t go looking for a quote for your tattoo because you’ll end up hating it?” Yea, well, I was looking for something in my moms handwriting for a while because I knew I wanted her handwriting on me, and I’m SO happy that I found this, and that it’s now on my skin because it’s a daily reminder that I need to stay strong, and to not let life get me down. Um, what else. Painfullness I guess? It actually wasn’t that bad, it was just more annoying than anything. Ironically, the part that hurt the worse was “Be strong.” Right? Totally weird hahaha. Oh, and it took maybe like 30 minutes?

Sorry for the totally crappy photo, but it’s an awkward photo to take, since it’s on my right shoulder. I also had to crop it because I didn’t want to show my brothers name because he’s only 11. K, so, now of my little brothers has Autism, which is kind of hard to explain, because there is a wide spectrum of different types of Autism. He’s high functioning, so that’s pretty awesome. The symbol for Autism is puzzle pieces, the ribbon is a collection of puzzle pieces in red, yellow, dark blue, and light blue. I wanted to take the ribbon and put it in heart form in some way, and this version I found scrolling through Google. Literally, I think I typed in “autism ribbon heart shape.” This one took what seemed like forever, but I think it only took like three hours. It only took that long because of all the color. For my brothers name, I just had him write his name for me, then had it tattooed that way. This one hurt after like the third color. I was sitting there for hours, and after so many hours, I was getting mad and sick of sitting there and being in pain, and the color wasn’t taking properly because apparently my skin is stubborn and doesn’t take color ink very well. I don’t know. So, at first, it was fine, just mild pain, nothing too bad, but as the hours went on, the pain got worse. 

And my third tattoo. I’m not saying final, because if I find something that means a lot to me, then I’m going to get it. I want all of my tattoos to mean something to me. K, so, you guys (or most of you guys) know that I have extreme self esteem issues. I wanted a quote that would mean a lot to me, and would be a daily reminder to love myself. It’s on my thigh. The pain wasn’t bad in the middle of my thigh, and worse on the ends of each sentence. This quote is from “The Hunger Games”, when Katniss sees herself after Cinna makes her all prettified for the interview with Ceaser. For this tattoo, a tattoo that would mean so much to me and be, like I said, a daily reminder to love myself and everything, to be a book quote. Books are my life. I am a self confessed book nerd. For this one, I just searched through the quotes I saved on my Kindle, and when I saw this one, I thought to myself “that’s it. That’s the quote I want.” This one only took about 20-30 minutes. I love this quote SO much, and having it on my thigh will allow me to see it every single day. I’m starting to slowly get over my self-esteem issues, and this tattoo will help me, and others, get through their issues. At least, I know it will for me. I know that when I have those days where I just hate myself, I want something that will make me know that I’m an amazing, beautiful girl, one who is as radiant as the sun :}

Ok, so that’s it! I think, hahaha. If you guys have anymore questions for me, just send me an ask, and I’ll answer them! I don’t know what all you guys want to know about them, and like I said a while ago, I try to be as much of an open book as I can. Sorry for making this post so long, but all of my tattoos have a meaning to me, and I wanted to make sure that each meaning was clear.