#Iron angle plates

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp prompt #13: Hell to Pay

They say there are only two things certain in life: death and taxes. That’s why even the Joker doesn’t fuck with the IRS.

However, unfortunately for the Joker the other certainty is death and he has yet to pay his dues. Just like how he could only get away with tax evasion for so long, there are only so many times the Joker can dodge death.

Death is coming to collect, with interest.

And the Joker will have hell to pay.

~ A dark green cloud swirls over the city. From it, emerge three oppressive figures:

The one on the far left with flowing hair like white-hot fire. His vambraces made of (what appeared to be) molten glass stopped under his fingers, which then extend into into claws that seemed to drip lava. He had spiked obsidian pauldrons on his shoulders, fastening a luminous, stark-white cape to his shoulders. He wore a coronet of lightning and wielded a flail that appeared to be made of coal chains and a shrunken Red Giant star.

The second on the far right had a helm of dark iron wreathed in a plume of purple flame. His gauntlets and sword flamed with green hellfire. A pure black sheath seemingly made of void and a silver hunting horn were tied to his waist. He wore an armor forged of shadows and proofed with fear. He rode atop a mighty stead. An inky dark stallion with a curved horn and bat-like wings. His form was constantly slightly shifting depending on the angle which you viewed him making him appear larger and more slippery than he was, enhancing his disquieting nature.

The third stood in the middle, smaller but no less terrifying than her companions. Her hair was wild with movement, only just visible because it appeared as if someone had bound the winds to her head. She wore a tiara made of storm clouds and pearls. She carried with her a spear, the shaft crafted of amazonite and the tip of a clear quartz, almost reminiscent of sea salt. At her hip lay a whip made of a restrained gale and a sea glass knife. She wore armor that appeared to be Greco-Roman in origin: a chest plate made of some sort of coral-like material and a battle skirt decorated with metallic bronze feathers.

They slowly descent on the city, bringing down a sense of power and dread. They paused at the top of Wayne Tower, where the city's vigilantes had all gathered in an attempt to create and feasible plan of action to discern what these beings want. The young woman in the middle speaks and the wind carries her voice. She is not loud but it the whole of Gotham hears her words.

"Greetings, Heroes of Gotham. It is a pleasure to meet you. I am Spirit, Princess and Head Diplomat of the Infinite Realms. This is Samhain, the Fright Knight, loyal knight to the king,” she gestured to her right before switching to her left “and this is Prince Wraith, current General in Chief of the Realms. We come to you as the King’s Guard and entourage. We have official business in your city and wish to civilly notify you of our presence. The King will be arriving shortly and your cooperation would be great fully received.”

Batman moved forward to shake her hand and address the situation.

“I’m afraid that we prefer not to have unknowns operating within the city. Would you be able to tell us what business you have here? Perhaps we could reach an agreement?” Batman tried to negotiate as politely as he could. He did not want to risk offending the evidently powerful beings.

Princess Spirit’s smile sharpened as she thrummed her finger against her knife. She spoke again with an unnervingly pleasant tone.

“It appears you do not understand. We are not asking for your permission.” Her grip around his hand tightened. “ We are informing you.” She finished releasing his hand.

Batman withdrew his aching hand and regarded her with the beginnings of a protest on his lips. She didn’t allow him to speak.

“ This is out of your jurisdiction Batman. This is a matter of the Realms and the Afterlife. Whatever worldly rules or morals you wish to impose on those who enter this city do not apply to us. We will do our best to work within them, so as to appease you and to attempt to maintain a friendly relationship but in the macrocosm of the multiverse and afterlives you have no official power over us. Additionally, we have direct permission to operate here however we see fit from the City Spirit herself, Lady Gotham.”

Batman’s shadow seemed to fluctuated. His and his team's shadows moved from beneath them, closer to the Princess. Lady Gotham, though not manifesting, was making her presence and approval known. Batman could not deny what he was seeing. His team shifted uncomfortably behind him. He appealed to her once more.

“ I see that we can’t stop you. We don’t want to get in your way either. Could you at least tell us why you are here?”

She smiled as if telling a joke, “All will be revealed in time”

Suddenly, there was a loud noise that sounded like tearing fabric. The green clouds mixed with purples and blues and began to churn faster. The cyclone emitted a flashes of bright light. In unison all three of the King’s Guard lifted up from the roof and took place underneath the eye of the wind storm.

Spirit holds her spear aloft. With one swift, commanding move she slams the butt of her spear down, creating a platform out of solidified air.

Wraith bellows out smoke and ash onto the platform to discolor it. With ferocious and precise movements his claws to carve in a sigil, leaving a soft orange glow against the black and gray.

Samhain sheathes his sword and pulls his horn from his waist. He wills his dark stead to rear up as he blows the horn, letting out one loud prolonged cry.

The three warriors stand at attention and Princess Spirit calls the winds to project her voice once more.

“ Now introducing the Ruler of the Infinite Realms, High King of the In-Between, The Great One, The Benevolent King, The Peace Maker, The Guardian of Souls, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance, Ancient of Space and Reality, The Infinite King: Phantom!”

With a flash of white light a figure appear in the center of the platform. Simultaneously, the three knights bow in reverence.

The King has arrived.

As the Heroes of Gotham regain clear vision they are met with a striking figure.

There stood a toned young man appearing both boyishly young, yet wisened and weathered. He had side swept hair the creeped to the bottom of his neck. His skin was pale with an icy blue tint. He opened his eyes to reveal they shone an electric green. Upon his head rest a crown made of a crystalline material, reminiscent of an aurora. He wore a navy blue cloak that had a rich purple hood lined with stark white fur. The underside displayed a shifting galaxy pattern. His under suit was the same midnight black as Samhain’s. He donned golden arm bands and a gold chest plate in style quite similar to Spirit’s. His hand were covered in snow white gauntlets that matched Wraith’s vambraces.

They all stood in awe, beholden to the almost divine figure.

The king sent them a gentle smile. It was warm and comforting yet sent a chill down their shoulders.

King Phantom began to fly down toward the center of the city, his entourage fell into step behind him. He hovered several hundred feet over Wayne tower and looked down at the city. He then spoke in a booming voice, his tone kind but commanding.

“ I humbly greet the Lady Gotham, her champions, and her citizens,” the shadows curled toward him appreciatively. “ I am grateful for your cooperation in our effort to rectify a great injustice. As High King of the Infinite Realms it is one of my duties to preside over the afterlife. To bring guidance, peace, and justice to the souls under my jurisdiction. Recently, it has been brought to my attention that there is a soul among you who has not only dodged death, but caused great strife to a vast number of souls who call for justice.”

On the roof of Wayne Enterprises Jason and Damian both stiffen, but remain firm in their gaze toward the king. The king looks out at the city and sparing them the quickest of glances. He continues onward.

“ The man formerly know as Jack Napier, now called The Joker. He has avoided death on many an occasion but his life should have ended moment he fell into a vat of chemicals. Since then he has sent hundreds more to the afterlife. He has long yet to pay his dues. That is why on the behalf of justice, restoring balance, and of my subjects I officially condemn Jack Napier.”

“Jack Napier, you have been allowed 24 hours turn yourself into our custody in order to be put on trial for your crimes in the Infinite Realms. Should you fail to turn youself in, we shall take that as an admission of guilt and acceptance to be punished for your actions. After the 24 hours are up, Samhain shall use his horn to summon The Hunt and we shall track you down.”

His gaze passed specifically over Red Hood, one of the Oracle’s drones, Nightwing, Signal, Red Robin, and Batman before he spoke his next words.

“All those souls who have been wronged by the Joker, both living and deceased, who wish to have a hand in their justice have been invited to join The Hunt if they so choose.”

The king lifted his hand, calling the swirling green clouds to his gather in his palm. The clouds swiftly rearranged themselves into a smokey timer hanging in the sky.

An impish smirk graced King Phantom’s face as he let out a malicious laugh and gave his final decree.

“ Your time begins now!”

[steelseiko]

Cast Iron Box Angle Plate

Used for parts parallelism, verticality inspection and marking support workpiece, generally with the same side length and specific 6 working face cube or cuboid, one of the working face has v-shaped groove. Also according to the use of planar slotting and other processing technology, and according to user requirements to produce a variety of specifications and equal height square box and rectangular cylinder.

Cast Iron Box Angle Plate Parameter

Product name

Cast Iron Box Angle Plate

Material

It is generally made of gray iron HT150 casting, or HT200-250 gray iron casting.

Specification

100mm × 100mm × 100mm-500mm × 500mm × 500mm (may be processed according to requirements when larger than the above specifications).

Classification

Square boxes include cast iron square boxes, marble square boxes, magnetic square boxes, scribed square boxes, inspection square boxes, universal square boxes, etc.

Custom drawings

Please provide detailed drawings of specifications CAD, PDF, DWG, JPEG, STP, IGS, etc. or according to the inquiry data, we will not disclose to third parties without your permission.

No drawings please send us pictures or sketches with dimensions (length, height, width), CAD or 3D files will be made for you if you place an order.

Product Accuracy of Cast Iron Box Angle Plate

It is divided into 000 level, 00 level, 0 level, 1 level, 2 level and 3 level. For the scraping square box, in addition to verifying the flatness, the contact spots should also be verified by the coloring method. The number of spots in any square with a side length of 25mm is: no less than 25 points for grades 1 and 2; no less than 20 points for grade 3.

Application of Cast Iron Box Angle Plate

It can be used to detect the parallelism and perpendicularity of the parts, and the parts to be processed are used in conjunction with the height ruler to mark the line. The cast iron square box with the square box bracket can flexibly detect the plane error of the part. The complete set of cast iron square box can be used with CNC machine tool workbench for high processing parts for product finishing.

[foxynez]

Relief - Black Noir x Female Reader

Summary: Noir returns home after killing the humans on Vaught.

Warnings: Smut, Rough Sex.

"Are you alright?" you asked as Noir stormed into the apartment and slammed the door shut behind him. Noir didn't answer, only growled in frustration as he slammed down his daggers on the kitchen counter.

Frowning, you got up from the couch and walked up to your boyfriend.

"What's wrong, baby?" you asked and placed your hand on his chest plate. "Didn't the mission go as planned?"

"Shut up," Noir growled between gritted teeth and grabbed you, his hands tight around your biceps. His voice was gritty with a wildness that would have scared you, if it didn’t send a bolt of electricity straight between your thighs.

Without a word, Noir flipped you around and roughly pinned you to the counter, making you gasp for air as he pressed his powerful torso against your back. That's when you felt the hard bulge of his clothed cock press against your ass. You released a needy whimper as you felt its thick girth pressing against you, and Noir responded with a growl in your ear, his hands still gripping your arms like iron bands.

Then he released one of your arms, sliding his rough, gloved digits up underneath your dress and down your side and across your back. You shivered harshly, your skin electric wherever he touched. You glanced over your shoulder, but was only met by the darkness of his mask. Silently, Noir stuck his foot between yours, forcing your legs apart as he continued to pin you against the counter. The air caught in your throat as you felt the tip of his cock nudge between your legs. You hadn't even noticed him taking his cock out.

He didn’t give you much time to prepare – Noir pushed your panty aside and lined himself up with your entrance, and then thrust deep into your core. You cried out loudly, and the noise was immediately muffled as Noir placed his rough hand over your mouth. Your moans and cries were muffled against his palm, and somehow that made it so much more hotter.

His other hand gripped your hip tightly as he thrust into you. Your walls were already beginning to tighten – there was something about him taking you from this angle that made his member feel even longer and fuller, and you were stretched almost to the point of pain.

The pace of his thrusts became rougher and faster, and you angled your hips to meet his more completely. You released another muffled, wild cry as the tip of his cock began to hit you in just the right spot, sending ripples of ecstasy through your body. You had never been taken quite like this before, and it left you feeling weak and overwhelmed with pleasure.

Noir’s movements began to slip into an uneven pace as his cock began to throb. He jerked his hips forward against your ass and it sent you hurdling over the edge. You keened loudly against the palm of his hand as your walls throbbed violently around his pulsing member.

The world whited out for a brief moment, your body covered with a heavy thundercloud sending bolts of pleasure throughout your nerves. As it began to fade and you came back into yourself, you realized Noir had released his grip on your mouth.

"Are you alright?" Noir asked softly and you could hear the concern in his voice.

You nodded and smiled as he took of his mask, his brown eyes looking at you for any trace of pain or discomfort.

"What was that about?" you asked as you turned around and pressed your cheek against his chest, and wrapped your arms around his torso.

"I had a rough day, needed to blow of some steam," Noir mumbled and wrapped his arms around your smaller frame, his nose nussling your hair. He didn't dare to tell you the truth, that all the killing he'd done today had turned him on so much he had returned home with a painfully hard cock.

"I love you, y/n," Noir whispered against your neck.

You smiled against Noir's chest. "I love you too, Noir."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Some Gemology Vocabulary

for your next poem/story (pt. 1)

Gemology—the scientific study of gemstones

Acicular - crystals that have a "needle-like" form

Adamantine - the highest classification of surface lustre or reflectivity which may be shown by a gemstone (e.g. in faceted diamond)

Adularescence - a billowing flow of whitish or bluish colors that seem to float along the surface

Allochromatic - a gemstone is allochromatic when it is colorless in its pure state

Aventurescence - specular reflections or spangles of light reflected from plate-like inclusions as a stone is rotated

Baroque - gem materials having an irregular shape e.g. baroque pearls

Botryoidal - interlocking, rounded masses that sometimes look like grapes or bubbles resulting from radiating masses of fibrous crystals

Carat - a unit of weight for gemstones. There are five metric carats to the gram.

Chatoyancy - the cat’s-eye-like phenomenon caused by light reflecting from tiny fiber-like inclusions within a gem. The "eye" is seen at right angles to the direction of the inclusions. Stones must be cut en cabochon to see this effect.

Fluorescence - the emission of visible light by a gemstone when exposed to a light source whose light we normally cannot see

Idiochromatic - a gemstone is idiochromatic when the element causing its color is an essential part its chemical composition. For example, iron, which is an intrinsic part of the chemical makeup of peridot, is the cause of its green color.

Lapidary - the art of working with stone and gems which includes engraving, cutting, and polishing

Opalescence - a reflection of a milky or pearly light from a gem's interior, sometimes used as a synonym for iridescence.

Orange peel - a surface appearance resembling the outer skin of an orange. This is sometimes seen in plastic and glass simulants and should be observed in reflected light.

Phantom crystal - also known as "ghost crystal", they occur in quartz when there is an interruption in the growth cycle. It appears like a faint crystal within a crystal.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5

[grimesgirll]

the first time you saw rick in his constable uniform, you thought you were going to have to go to your room to cool down.

clean shaven, hair trimmed, iron pressed uniform clad rick grimes was a sight to behold. having known him just as he was a mere week or two ago, you wouldn't have expected him to be an officer of the law.

truth be told, you found that version of rick wildly hot. he was passionate. he was protective of not just you but judith, carl, the group. purpose looked great on him however it manifested.

but you also loved this domestic version of rick. watching him feed judith at a marble countertop was surreal. you hadn't known him when he was a clean-cut suburban dad, just as a survivor. rick really brought out your thing for men in uniforms though. you'd thought it was a one off thing when you'd hit on a state game warden after he came to dispatch the deer you hit with your car in the past but constable rick had him beat.

you never thought you'd see rick in a tie. you think about how he would've looked at your sorority formal as he brushes past you in the kitchen, immediately knowing what's up when your eyes don't leave him as you start to plate the brownies you just pulled out of the oven.

"like what you see?"

you smile. "yeah." you hold up a freshly cut brownie. "rick, can you try a bite? let me know if they're still hot? i don't wanna burn my tongue."

rick takes a step closer to lean in and take a mouthful of your brownie. "mmm," he hums. "delicious. not too hot. not for you." you gleam at the praise. "thank you, darlin'," he whispers huskily to you.

"you're welcome, officer."

you watch something shift in his eyes as he pops the rest of the brownie into his mouth. "i thought you didn't like cops."

"i never said that," you attest. "i've never said a bad word about a constable in my life," you swear, putting the plate of brownies down to step closer to rick, who begins to play with the buttons on your cardigan.

"really?"

"mhmm." you run your hands along his tie. "i enjoy the uniform."

"do you?"

you nod, hands working up to his chestnut curls. "did they give you handcuffs?"

rick chuckles at you. "those are for official constable business, not playin' around."

"i'm not playing around," you whisper in his ear. "what's it take to get a girl arrested around here?"

not much apparently because all you had to do was start pulling on his tie to get dragged to the upstairs bedroom and thrown on the bed. with a hand cuffed to the bedpost, all you could do was squirm as alexandria's newest constable stripped you from the waist down.

"how many do you want?" rick asks once he's gotten your pants down and he's running his hand on your ass.

you shrug. "you choose, officer."

"bad choice," he remarks and pulls you over his lap to get a better angle. "actually, i think you'll like this."

smack!

you wince. you can't remember the last time you were spanked but you know you're gonna remember this for sure, if not purely by the memory, then by the handprints that were already forming on your plush ass as rick gives you another round.

as you twist and writhe in his grasp, rick starts to get impatient, wishing you were squirming on a specific part of him. he lowers his lips to your ear. "are you ready to be a good girl?" he asks.

you nod your head up and down. "i've always been your good girl," you breathe, slightly tensing when you feel his hand on your bottom again.

"good."

with that, he flips you back face down onto the bed and you hear the metallic clank of his belt buckle. it's not ten seconds later that you feel him against your wet hole. as you feel the cold air on, you realize how wet you are; rick's behind you drawing circles in your slick with his dick while you whine into the duvet.

"rick," you start, voice low and needy.

"what do you want, sweetheart?"

"i want you, rick." you answer with an exhale. "i'm so wet for you."

"i can see, honey."

"then fuck me!"

"maybe ask the constable nicely."

you can hear the smugness in his voice and it goes straight to your cunt.

"constable grimes," you croon. "can you please fuck me?"

you don't have time to hear his answer because the wind is knocked out of you - there it is. you're knocked halfway up the bed as the constable fucks into you roughly.

"how do you like that, sweetheart?" he inquires, breath warm against your neck as he keeps pushing all the right buttons inside of you.

"mhmmm," you murmur. "feel so full."

"good."

you were so developing a thing for men in uniform.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 13

PREVIOUS

“I can’t believe you would go out on Black Friday to grocery shop but I guess thanks for going out on Black Friday to grocery shop.” Aaron greets him with as FF moves over to the table.

Andrew and Captain Neil had apparently went out shopping.

Andrew and Captain Neil had apparently come back and have been in Andrew’s room for the past couple hours.

“Josten probably wanted to go to Excites for some gear. I don’t know what my brother sees in that Exy-obsessed jerk.” Aaron says as he eats his own smiley eggs and bacon. FF hears the sound of a hammer and a drill from Andrew’s room.

Heart in his throat he forces himself not to think about what Andrew and Captain Neil COULD be building.

(A guillotine, an iron maiden, that weird wedge thing that splits people in half at the groin, He should NOT have taken that Spanish history class. Oh god it’s probably a fence so he can’t escape whatever hunting ground Andrew is going to drag him to if he can’t buy his continued existence via baked good.)

“Shut up, they’re actually really sweet to one another.” Nicky chastises before turning to FF, “Because of that your final serving goes to Smithy. He deserves it more than you.” Nicky says and slides the final plate of eggs and bacon.

“He’s just as bothered by it as I am!” Aaron scowls.

“By what?” FF asks because there are a lot of things that bother him so Aaron is going to have to be more specific.

“By those two being all close. I’ve seen the way you turn and walk away.” Aaron reaches across the table for his bacon but FF just pushes the plate closer to him. The two plates he had already eaten were more than enough, especially after the full dinner that they’d had the night before. “You’re grossed out by it too right?” He asks as he goes to stab the bacon.

FF slides the plate away and Aaron stabs the table.

FF is NOT HOMOPHOBIC.

His gran raised him better than that.

“I don’t agree with you.” He says because he doesn’t but can’t bring himself to say anymore. He’s in Aaron’s house, he stole Aaron’s keys that morning to lock up the house.

(it was so rude but what if someone broke in because he left the house unlocked? What if someone got hurt just because he wanted to ensure his own survival? Isn’t it better that he just borrowed Aaron’s keys to make sure that no one in the house got hurt? Does FF still believe with every fiber of his being that Andrew Minyard is trying to murder him in this exact house? Yes. Can these concerns coexist peacefully? Also yes.)

If anything he finds Captain Neil and Andrew to be an incredibly nice couple. They talk about things together, they make plans about their future, their PDA was actually pretty minimal (especially in comparison to Aaron), and he had figured out the weird code Andrew talked in so he was pretty sure that Andrew and Neil loved one another.

The only issue he has with the couple is that they are out at a store probably buying supplies to torture and then kill FF.

Otherwise they were perfectly fine.

Aaron scowls, “You can’t be serious. You walk away faster than you run on the court when you see the two of them getting all gross.” He points with his fork and tries to grab the bacon again.

FF frowns deeper.

“I walk away even faster from you and your girlfriend.” He returns because Aaron and Katelyn are the couple who have been the MOST guilty of initiating something in front of him when he was in ‘Visible only when the sunlight strikes him at the exact right angle on the summer solstice’ mode.

 He had tried to clear his throat to get them to quit quite a few times but…well…he has heard Katelyn mention that one of her and Aaron’s favorite ‘hang out’ spots might be haunted….so he hadn’t been overly successful.

“PDA makes me uncomfortable in general. Captain Neil and Andrew are a very nice couple who you shouldn’t talk bad about.” He defends as one of the only people who would know exactly how thoughtful the two were to one another.

He hopes his Gran is proud of him for saying something.

Aaron looks at him with a twisted mouth for a while before relenting, “Fine they’re not that bad. It’s just a big brother thing.” Aaron rolls his eyes.

FF swallows down some acid in his throat and pushes the smiling eggs and bacon over to Aaron who smiles back at the breakfast and proceeds to eat it.

A big brother thing.

FF gets up and heads over to the final bag that Andrew had left out on the counter. FF had bought some additional offerings for his mortal soul to tide Andrew over while he made the brownies. It’s also where the incense and his latest two five hour energies should still be.

He finds the incense, wonders if he hallucinated the five hour energies (very possible), and hands Nicky a box of sour patch kids to distract him when he comes over.

“Smithy, why the hell are you lighting incense?” Nicky asks because the sour patch kids were NEVER going to be enough to distract Nicky. That would take something on the level of Swedish Fish but he’d been more focused on avoiding the candy thrown by an irate woman towards a member of Target staff because the grocery department couldn’t get her the redemption coupon for one of the flat screens in the Electronic department so he had FAILED to procure them. He’d even seen a box sail through the air is bullet time because his brain was too hopped up on Five Hour Energy but he’d let it go believing he could just grab a box at check out. THEN HE ZONED OUT IN THE CHECK OUT LINE AS HE STARED AT BOTH THE FUTURE AND THE PAST AND FORGOT HE WAS IN THE PRESENT WHERE HE HADN’T GOTTEN THE DAMN SWEDISH FISH.

“I’m going to make my Great Grandma’s brownies.” He says in response, “I’m hoping to channel her so I don’t mess up.” He says.

“Oh! More grandma baking goodies?! I can be your assistant baker! What do you need?” Nicky says visibly vibrating with excitement at the prospect. “We can listen to Mariah and I can lick the spoon!”

There is a noise of revulsion from the kitchen table.

“Don’t let him lick the spoon Smiths! He gets WEIRD about it.”

“That sounds like what someone who wants to lick the spoon would say.”

“Oh shut up!”

“That’s not a NO!”

The cousins continue to argue about spoon licking rights as FF gets started checking to make sure that the kitchen has all the necessary equipment to even make his brownies. He’d been so tired (last night? This morning?) that he hadn’t thought about even checking that the cousins would have things like a glass bowl, an baking dish, pie tin, etc.

Thankfully FOR ONCE luck is on his side and FF does not have to walk back to the Target.

So he finishes pulling out everything he’ll need, getting the oven pre-heated, and pulling out the ingredients for the brownies from the fridge.

He lights some incense with the stove top burners sends a quick prayer up and wonders if maybe a ouija board would have been better but if the Home Goods section had been a dangerous spot then the toy section would have been like walking into an active war zone. There are no laws as far as parents are concerned when it comes to getting the ‘it’ toy for their kids. FF has watched the highs and lows of humanity in the Barbie aisle more than once.

So he melts chocolate, he sifts flour and sugar, he separates eggs, and he uses every muscle that Kevin’s insane work out regiment had given his arms to whip those egg whites into stiff peaks. He knows his great gran is with him when Nicky and Aaron continue to argue (they are now talking about the ethics of licking the spoon vs. licking the bowl? He doesn’t quite get how they got there but alright) so Nicky doesn’t hear him say “Stiff Peaks Acquired” to himself because he knows Nicky well enough to know that he would have NEVER heard the end of it.

He uses all of the delicacy his gran had ever tried to teach him to fold those egg whites into the chocolate and then to fold in the flour and sugar. There are more steps, more ingredients, but unless you are family then those are CLASSIFIED.

Great Gran had always been the suspicious sort.

The oven beeps to let him know it’s done pre-heating as he’s carefully transferring his great gran’s life’s work into the baking dish.

He was so focused that he hadn’t even realized that Andrew was back until he turned to do the dishes and found Andrew holding the bowl and running his fingers through the scant remaining mix and shoving it into his mouth.

He is surprise that the scream remains in his head. He’s even more surprised that he stays upright. Maybe the nap did him some good even if it let Andrew and Captain Neil build whatever torture device they were intending to use on him.

He really needs to drink some pepto. He doesn’t think that Andrew will pause their ‘The Most Dangerous Game’ recreation to let FF manage his ulcers. Andrew is staring straight at him.

Andrew offers him the spoon.

FF declines. Raw eggs, sugar, and chocolate? With THIS stomach? He’d almost prefer to be chased through whatever enclosure Andrew is going to drag him to.

“When did you wake up?” Andrew asks.

“Hour ago.” He answers.

“Hm.”

“I’ll make the pie tomorrow.” he ventures trying to extend his life by another day.

Andrew shoves the spoon into his own mouth after that and walks out into the dining room. FF hears both Aaron and Nicky’s cries of anguish.

FF looks at the brownies in the oven at the incense burning on the counter and wonders if that was Andrew’s way of confirming his stay of execution.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​ @splishsplashyouropinionistrash​ @sammichly​ @the-broken-pen​ @bitchesdoweknowu​ @very-small-flower​ @ghostlyboiii​ @its-a-paxycab​ @bisexual-genderfluid-fan​ @cheesecookie​ @theoneandonlylostsock​ @foxsoulcourt​ @blueleys @adverbialstarlight​ @elia-nna​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @nikodiangel​ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat​ @hallucinatedjosten​ @satanic-foxhole-court​ @vexingcosmos​ @chalilodimun​ @insectsgetcooked​ @angry-kid-with-no-money​ @queer-crows​ @lilyndra @themugglemudperson​ @readertodeath​ @apileofpillows​ @mortalsbowbeforeme​ @hellomynameismoo​ @next-level-mess @youreonlylow​ @interstellarfig​

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t  get a notification there might be something switched around in your  settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[tavyliasin]

Disability Pride Month and BG3!

It’s Disability Pride Month! And you know what that means, right? No? Well it has been ages and I’ve long been casually planning a series of short (maybe) essays around the parallels to disability - and the clearer disability representation - throughout Baldur’s Gate 3 in both the characters and the story. So what better month than this to finally work on them and bring them out?

Whilst I do have some personal lived experience with disability, this doesn’t account for every type of condition or all the ways that different disabilities affect so many of us. Two people with the same condition can have quite a different lived experience, and even the condition itself can vary significantly. So what I mean to say here, loves, is that if you have a differing opinion, or there’s something I’ve missed, or you’d just like to add your thoughts - please do just that! 

I welcome hearing from all of you about how you relate to the game through your own lived experiences, and what the characters can mean to you. Representation isn’t always clear, but honestly I think when we look closer we can see parts of all kinds of experiences reflected through the characters and story. So, what I intend to do is create a series of essays, looking in depth at the potential parallels we can see in each of the main companions that I’m most familiar with (unfortunately I don’t know Minthara well enough to include her in this, but I would welcome input from others!) and then perhaps some of the other characters. These pieces are not meant to be diagnostic in any way, or claiming “this character has this illness”, but instead is a look at how the characters and their stories and details can be similar to real world disability and health, and how different people might find ways to relate to their experiences through this. Links will be edited in here as the essays are completed!

Planned Disability Discussion Posts

Karlach - Terminal Illness (Completed) Wyll - Sudden Physical Change (Traumatic Incident) (Completed) Gale - Chronic Illness, Autism (Completed) Astarion - Complex Needs, Specialised Diets, and Addiction (Completed) Lae’zel - Ableism, Eugenics, and More Neurodiversity (Completed) Shadowheart - Memory Difficulties, Depression, Fluctuating Chronic Pain (Completed) Halsin - Carer Fatigue and The End Of The Path Of Healing (Completed)

--- I'm not sure how quickly I'll get through posting these as I'm having a tough time with my own physical health right now - isn't that ironic? - but I do intend to get through at least this list by the end of July in between fic writing and other projects.

If you would like to suggest other characters, storylines, or disability related topics in BG3 please let me know! I'd love to hear how you all relate to the game and the characters from these angles too, and I might be willing to add things to this list if I can.

Lia's Disability Experience

As a little peek behind the curtain (and for full disclosure that I'm not an abled person here to talk over disabled experiences) without giving you too much of myself on the single plate, my lived experience is with an unpredictable chronic pain condition as well as a few other chronic illnesses and disability issues. I'm a wheelchair user, partially ambulatory (essentially I can shamble around in my home with assistance but outside the house I rely on my wheels), and my most prevalent symptom is constant pain. I have made vague references to these things in a few works and the experience does provide me with some fic inspiration for a couple of works. I'm far too familiar with Loviatar's embrace, but I feel this is something that can be used to my advantage at times like these where I can examine the characters and storylines from angles that abled people might not consider.

Your Input!

I really would love to hear from all of you - what other characters do you feel reflect some of the lived experiences of disabled people? Are there any that you connected to? Did you find the game was accessible for you to play as a disabled person? What do you wish you saw more of in the game or in games in general? This month really is an important one for awareness and understanding, as well as finding things in ourselves to be proud of that don't fall into the categories of "inspiration porn" or the kinds of internalised ableism that can drive some of us to push too hard to work against our conditions instead of with and around them leading to more issues.

Remember - The Disabled Community is the one minority that anyone could become a part of at any time. Advocating for our rights could also be advocating for your own future or that of a loved one.

[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 28- Mistake(Yandere Rise Savage Raph x Reader)

A/N, not important: Sorry if cantaloupe man is OOC, I only used distant memories for his personality and what felt right. Also it's 2am again. I need to not be doing this. Uhhh, oops? Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Dale, off screen death, bones snapped, feral, Loss of mental consciousness, kidnapping(?), unwanted touch, panic, blood, death of animal(rat), sewage, dark themes, yandere themes.

Words: 2286

Summary: Savage Raph and sewer exploration don't mix.

“You want to explore the sewers?” You ask, looking at the bald teen standing in front of you in disgust. You shudder, trying not to imagine all the things down there. “What are you even planning on finding? Sewage?”

Dale scoffs, his high pitched voice nasally from the cold. “But we could find treasure!”

“Or feces. You know, the stuff that’s supposed to be down there.”

Dale frowns, clearly not amused by your attitude. He sighs, putting his hand on your shoulder and shaking you lightly. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Your curious spirit?”

“Literally anywhere but the sewers of New York.” You state plainly, your nose scrunching up in disgust. Nothing about this plan seemed like a good idea, let alone a fun way to spend your weekend. Your shoulders sag, looking at the manhole cover Dale led you to. “C’mon, can’t we just like, play video games or go to the movies like normal teens?”

Dale seems to ignore your statement, walking confidently over to the sewer plate. You stand back, watching him wrap his hands around the metal and try to lift it. It doesn’t even budge. You snort slightly, watching him struggle for a moment before walking over to help him. You felt guilty, especially after seeing how determined he was to lift it with his bare hands. Dale’s head whips around, his dark eyes narrowing as he spots a small bit of pipe sticking out of a nearby dumpster. He grabs it and brings it over, carefully hooking the end of the pipe onto the slots of the sewer cover.

“Sorry,” He mutters, both of you pushing your weight against the awkward angle of the pipe. “I forgot how heavy these things were.”

You feel confusion waft over you at the statement, especially at the implication this was something he had done or at least tried before. You shake it off, focusing on the task at hand instead. Best to let Dale be Dale.

It takes a while, but the both of you eventually get the manhole cover dislodged and move to the side, the rancid smell of human waste and dead rats wafting to the surface. You gag, staggering back while dry heaving. Dale looked equally sick, but determined.

“We go in.” He says, taking a deep, final breath of fresh air before slowly climbing down the ladder. You watch him descend into the tunnels, his sputtering breaths making you feel bad for the young adult despite it being fully his idea, and fully his fault. His head pops out of the hold for a moment, his beady eyes looking at you. “Aren’t you coming.”

You grimace, but slowly follow, trying to take as many gulps of the surface air before following him down, slowly dragging the cast iron plate back into its spot. Your stomach churns while the stench burns your nose, making your vision swim. The ladder is longer than you want it to be, each rung damp with something you weren’t sure you wanted to know the makeup of. Your feet finally hit solid ground, your hand going to your pocket and slipping your phone out so you could see. Dale does the same, two small lights shining through the dark tunnel. You can hear the skittering rats and bugs, and the smell isn’t getting any better despite what you try to force yourself to believe.

Dale shines his light down each tunnel, his voice a bit strained. “Well, do you want to go right or left?”

You roll your shoulders, still grimacing. “Back to the surface.”

“Not an option!” He says brightly, marching down the tunnel to your left. He lets out a nervous chuckle as he walks, looking back at you. “I uh… I’m not sure if we can even lift the grate back up anyways.”

You groan, following behind your friend, your flashlight glued to the ground in front of your feet to make sure you didn’t step in anything. Every slight squish your shoes made in the damp tunnels made you gag, your mind running wild on all the possibilities of what you were stepping in. You were majorly regretting following him down here, wishing you were back home cuddled into your bed with a movie playing on your phone. The trudge through the sewers gets slightly better as you slowly get somewhat used to the smell, the burning sensation in your nose dying down slightly. 

“So,” You ask, stepping over a large dead rat, its body half floating in the river just next to your feet. You were slowly getting used to the noises down here. “Where are we going?”

“Oh, there’s an opening up ahead that has this really cool waterfall look from all the pipes going down.” Dale says, continuing on with the confidence of a cub at its first kill.

You pause, looking at him oddly. You shift your phone to your other hand, your palms sweaty from the walk despite the still chilly air. “When did you go down to the sewers before?”

“I saw April head down here once and tried to follow her.”

“Dale, that’s creepy.” You remark, staring sourly at the back of his head. Dale laughs nervously, his light flickering as he waves his phone around to check the walls.

“She was going into the sewers! I just wanted to see what she was doing.” He tries to argue, the shake in his voice proving even he knew it was a poor excuse.

“It’s called ‘talking to her’. You should try it sometime.”

“But she thinks I’m weird!” He protests, his high voice raising as he pouts. “Whenever I talk to her, she shoos me away.”

“You bring your lizard to school.”

“She brings green kids to school.”

Your jaw clicks shut as you sigh, nodding to his point. Everyone in school knew about the green kids that would show up every once in a while when April was in a bind. It was hard to miss them, considering their increasingly worse outfits in an attempt to hide the unnatural color. The conspiracy club had a whole board dedicated just to them.

“You’re both weird then.” You settle, chuckling at Dale’s defeated sigh. You both fall back into a comfortable silence, the water rushing and the rats scurry being the only accompanying sounds to your quiet steps. Despite still being uncomfortable, the sewers weren’t turning out as bad as you thought. It was disgusting and rank, but peaceful. Once you got used to wet rat fur rubbing against your ankles of course.

The tunnel slowly opens up, a maze of pipes and steel plating spreading out into a wide open space, most other tunnels gushing out sewage into the depths below. You watch it for a moment, slightly amazed but mostly confused.

“This is it.” Dale says proudly, spreading his arms out wide like he was showcasing for an art gallery. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

“If beautiful is the sight of raw sewage being spit into a big hole, then sure.” You tease, but feeling some truth in your words. It was more impressive than beautiful, the sight of lumpy water ruining the image for you. Dale sighs dramatically, kicking the concrete of the path.

“You never appreciate anything I show you.” He mopes, his shoulders sagging exaggeratedly while he pouts. You roll your eyes and knock your shoulder against his, smiling at his goofy mood.

“C’mon, I’ve seen enough of the sewers now. I say we head back, yeah?” You ask, hoping he didn’t have more to show you. Dale sighs, then nods before taking a picture of the sewage falls. You snicker at him, already making plans to take him to real waterfalls soon. If he liked gunk being shot out of pipes, he was sure to appreciate the natural beauty of springs shot off cliffs.

You both turn to head back, but still when a loud whine can be heard to your right. Dale pauses and stares in the direction of the noise, whatever sense of adventure that dragged him down here hooking him once again. He waves you forward, his phone not set to a video as he peaks around the corner hiding you from whatever was babbling behind it. You peek your head over and gasp, your eyes widening at the large monster sitting in front of a fire atop a flat area that controls the valves. Your stomach knots as you stare at the large beast, a red bandana over its face and its eyes pure white. It wails over the fire, crying out for names you didn’t recognize. Dale snaps a few more photos before nodding to you, happy with whatever he collected.

You both slowly start to back away, keeping your eyes focused so you wouldn’t step into the gushing water and be swept into the pit. Dale seems to not pay as much attention, his foot slipping on a wet patch of ground as he falls towards the water, a loud scream coming from him as he grabs onto you for support. You yelp at the grip, latching onto a jutting pipe so you didn’t both get dragged into the rushing water just feet away. You help Dale stabilize himself, sighing in relief as you both press yourself against the brick wall. Your hands shake violently as you try to calm your nerves, barely noticing the absence of the loud wails heard just seconds before.

 You pick up your head and squint into the darkness as you slowly calm, trying to ignore the growing paranoia from the loss of sound. Dale also stills, his eyes trained on the corner you were both peeking over just a few minutes before. The bald teen slowly inches his way over to the corner, signaling for you to be quiet as he peeks over the wall. His face contorts into confusion for a second before a large green hand grabs his entire face and yanks him over, screams erupting from the both of you.

You’re glued to the ground while Dale and the monster scream, the sound of crushed bones and Dale’s sobs ingraining themselves into your brain. Your mind screams at you to move, to run, to do anything, but you stay glued to your spot. You were shaking, your mind providing the images to the noises coming from the other side of the wall. Dale’s screams had stopped, the sound of bones snapping had not.

Your muscles only decide to move again when the monster emerges from the shadows, its nostrils flaring on its turtle-y beak. You spin on your heel and dash forward, not caring to watch your steps for once as you sprint away from the blood covered beast. You sob as you run, mourning your friend and scared out of your mind when you hear the thing give chase. Your heart pounds like a hammer in your chest and you were sure the muscle alone would break your ribs protecting it.

A rat’s squeal and a crunch is heard under your foot, your face heading towards the ground while you try to brace yourself with your arms. You hit the ground hard, your chest heaving as your vision swims. Your body shakes, forgetting the danger for a moment to focus on the pain radiating from your left wrist. You don’t bother to look at it longer than needed, pushing yourself up and trying to stumble to your feet. The action quickly proves futile as large hands pick you up by the underside of your armpits, swinging you for a moment before tugging you close.

You don’t dare to breathe as the monster holds you tight to the hard shell on its chest, the slow realization bringing you to recognize the monster as some type of turtle, although you had never known any to grow this big. The monster falls back into a sitting position, it’s hand running over your head like it was petting a cat. Quick and sudden thwacks sound against the pavement, slightly shaking the ground and the monster holding you.

“You… Alone.” It says mournfully, continuing to roughly stroke your head. It reminded you of a two year old first meeting a puppy, grabby hands and rough play being the first instinct to the small children. Your gulp, shaking slightly as you wait for the hands to start to hurt, for the grip to squeeze you so hard your eyes popped from your skull. You wait. And you wait. You slowly take a big gulp of air, letting yourself breathe for a moment in its arms.

It wasn’t hurting you for now, instead petting you like you were a lost cat it found on the street. The difference between you and Dale, you were uncertain, but you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As awful as it made you feel, you were just happy to still be alive and in one piece.

“Raph alone.” The beast remarks, squeezing you a bit more than gentle. You wheeze at the feeling, your bones creaking before it’s grip loosens once more. It wasn’t showing any sign of letting go, seeming to have bonded to you. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to make sense of it all. The monster, Raph you assumed, was keeping you in its arms, for what reason you were unsure. You hoped it would let go, wanting to run and run until the world reset and you could offer Dale an escape room instead of a doomed sewer exploration. Tears run down your cheeks while the beast named Raph continues to pet you, his chest rumbling against your back. You doubted it would ever let you go.

[16woodsequ]

Sunday Steve - Day 13.5: What Did a Tenement Look Like?

As a follow up to my tenement building post, I've done my best to find a collection of photos to show what apartments Steve lived in could have looked like. As I mentioned in my earlier Sunday Steve post, a lot of tenement pictures were taken specifically because of the poor conditions, so I tried to find pictures that would show a side of tenements we might not usually see.

Tenement playground, circa 1900-1937 (Link)

Contemporary photos

Interior stairwell, 1937. (Link)

Look at the wallpaper! Also I can just imagine children playing in that nook there, using it like a fort or something.

Interior between 1900 and 1910. (Link)

Look at all the pictures on the walls, the patterned and no doubt colourful table cloth and the decorative elements of the stove! This apartment looks like it has a gas stove and lights.

(part of me does wonder if this photo was staged to some extent, perhaps to advertise the new laws going in (?), but that's only a theory.)

Kitchen interior with sink and icebox, 1935. (Link)

You can see the draped curtains, the mirror above the sink and the cloth on top of the fridge. The shelf with all the jars has been recovered with a decorative trim and the floor is patterned linoleum.

Family at kitchen table in a dumb-bell tenement, circa 1935. Note the angled kitchen window by the stove looking into an air shaft. (Link)

(The Barnes family anyone?) Again, patterned, clean floors, a gas stove, what may be a folded up bed in the left-hand upper corner. Five toothbrushes above the sink, a mirror above the shelf, the trim on the shelf itself. I think the dark thing next to the boxes in the lower right-hand corner might be a toy pram.

Interior view of dressing table and toilet, 1936. (Link)

Typical small toilet, probably built after the New Law required them. Note the pretty framed photo of religious figures on top of the dressing table, what I think is an electric curling iron next to it, and the sculpting details of the wall pillar.

Reconstruction

But black and white photos don't give us a full idea of what things would be like. Luckily, there is Tenement Museum in Manhattan that has 1910 and 1930 Old Law restored tenement apartments.

Outside of museum and stairs leading up. (Link)

This tenement is 5 floors, which is standard for Old Law. New Law tenements were often higher. The tenement, like many tenements, had a store front on the street level.

If you look carefully you can see the tin-plated ceilings. Note how you can see a painting on the wall across from the stairs. In the tour they discuss how these were people's homes and they decorated them and were proud of them too.

Images of a 1910 style apartment. (Link) (Link)

These tenements are 3 rooms, bedroom, kitchen and parlour. Note the bed in the kitchen where Steve could've slept. This could also be a place for a crib for a baby. These apartments have shared toilets in the halls that were for two families.

Also look at the green and red walls! So much colour! And the pictures hung on the walls! There's a rug on the floor, doilies and a cushion on the couch, a patterned curtain behind the door... I wanted to highlight the homeyness.

Kitchen of 1930s style apartment. (Link) (Link)

With these photos you can see the three rooms of this tenement. A small bedroom by the front door, a kitchen and a living room past it. The apartments for this building were electrified in 1924, so they have lights, and a radio and an electric fan in the living room.

The apartment had coin operated gas, which could be the black box on the wall by the front door. The gas also connects to a water heater for this apartment which can't really be seen, but it is connected to the stove.

The built in shelves by the table was custom built by the father of the family living here. Residents often painted or wallpapered their space when moving in to make it their own. According to the Tenement Museum, linoleum flooring was really common, and you can see how this apartment has linoleum designed to look like a rug.

Living room and bedroom of the same 1930 apartment. (Link) (Link)

The living room isn't very staged, I'm not sure why since I haven't taken the tour. There is a disassembled bed frame against the left wall, so it's possible a bed is usually set up in this room for the parents. Also the former resident of the apartment said it was sparsely furnished, so they may be trying to recreate that.

The ice box for this family is kept on the fire escape, which is not shown.

In the window of the living room you can see green plants. These are morning glories the father planted in re-purposed cheese boxes. According to the former resident, they got the cheese through welfare aid, and cheese always seemed to be in surplus from that program. The apartment has electricity and there is an electric fan on on the dresser with the mirror.

The second photo shows the bedroom, which is that angled room next to the front door in the kitchen. The red cloth covered thing in is a bed that was shared by two siblings and folded up and covered every day.

Look at all the colour! The patterned linoleum floors! The climbing flowers in the living room window! The radio in the nook by the kitchen table! These places were not dreary and brown just because they were old or cheap.

Recollections from the previous resident:

Rosaria [her mother] decorated the apartment by draping fabrics everywhere: lacy curtains at the windows, coverlets in the beds, skirts across the shelving that Adolfo [her father] built into the walls. The family kept birds as pets. They cultivated flowers; morning glories twined at the window. The radio played, day and night, as they laughed with Amos and Andy, hummed along with Fred Waring and his Pennsylvanians, and followed the puzzling, upper-middle-class lives of One Man's Family. (Link)

Also, when the previous resident came back to see the tenement museum of her childhood apartment, she noted that the place was messier than her mother ever kept it, so they fixed that. Tenements could be very clean and well kept, especially since cleanliness and health were something people judged.

I really wanted to show that while small and cheap, Steve’s apartments would have still been full of life and colour.

Tenement Museum hall toilet, circa 1904-1935 (Link)

I don't know what time period the museum has this toilet as, but you can see how small it was, and also that it has bright yellow walls!

This toilet has a leaflet of papers on the back wall, probably for toilet paper. As my toilet paper post discussed, toilet paper became more common with indoor plumbing due to clogged pipes and such, so I imagine this is early 1900s. I'm fairly certain Steve would be used to using toilet paper!

What's with all the indoor windows?

A lot of Old Law tenements have windows leading from one room to another. These are for airflow and light. They are also a sneaky way the landlords tried to get around the law that every room had to have a window. The New Law later required the windows to actually have access outside.

These windows are also known as tuberculosis windows. While they may have been a cop-out by landlords, they were still intended to improve airflow and light in narrow tenements which would otherwise have only one outward facing window.

I hope this overview gave you a broader understanding of what tenements could look like and some appreciation of the ways people brightened up their homes.

Many more tenement pictures found here:

This link has a lot more interior shots, but also some with homicide victims (!), so approach at your own risk.

This link has more images of the Tenement Museum, showing other bedrooms from different eras and different tenement rooms. While some are styled as late 1890s era apartments, they still reflect what rooms and life would and could have looked like.

Sunday Steve Masterpost

[a-araiguma-a]

The Mystery of the Abandoned Tower

Since many people liked my previous headcanon (click on me) and while I’m riding the wave of popularity, here’s another story for you. Enjoy the read! (❁´◡`❁) #deadpool and wolverine and #hogwarts Summary: Deadpool and Wolverine found themselves entangled in a mysterious case involving an ancient magical relic hidden deep within Hogwarts' Abandoned Tower. It all began when Deadpool, during one of his nightly escapades, stumbled upon an old map and decided it was the perfect opportunity to have some fun and maybe make a little “profit” in the wizarding world.

In the dark and quiet Hogwarts library, where only faint moonlight filtered through narrow windows, Deadpool—known here as Wade Wilson—sat flipping through an ancient book. His bright green and silver Slytherin robes barely concealed his restless nature. This time, he stumbled upon something intriguing—a map leading to an ancient relic hidden in the Abandoned Tower, said to grant its owner incredible powers. An idea immediately sparked in Wade's mind.

He quickly set off to find Wolverine, or Logan, a Gryffindor student with whom he had a sort of camaraderie based on mutual respect and constant banter.

Deadpool burst into the Great Hall, where Logan was quietly finishing his dinner. With his usual smirk, Wade stood in front of him and tossed the old map onto the table.

Deadpool: “Logan, my brother in misfortune! I’ve found something interesting. How about a little adventure? Picture this: an ancient magical relic, unknown dangers, and, of course, me—your favorite sidekick!”

Wolverine (without looking up from his plate): “Deadpool, if this is another one of your ridiculous schemes, I’m out. I’ve got a steak here, and it’s far more interesting than your nonsense.”

Deadpool (leaning in closer and whispering): “Oh, trust me, this steak is nothing compared to the chance to become a true legend. Plus, if anything goes wrong, you’ve got your claws. And I’ll help with my endless chatter. Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Logan hesitated for a moment, weighing the pros and cons, realizing this might not just be another prank. He knew that if he didn’t go with Wade, the guy would definitely cause trouble. Finally, Logan sighed and stood up from the table.

Wolverine: “Alright, Wilson, but if this turns into a disaster, you’re the first one I’ll deal with.”

Deadpool (grinning widely): “That’s the spirit! Onward to glory and madness!”

They began their search at night, when Hogwarts had fallen silent. The Abandoned Tower was off-limits to all students, which, of course, made it even more enticing for Deadpool. He kept making jokes and comments, barely restraining Logan from resorting to violence.

Hogwarts was an ancient castle, and even the most experienced wizards didn’t always know all the traps hidden within its walls.

Their first obstacle was a magical maze that changed every time someone entered it. The walls constantly shifted, creating the illusion of an endless corridor, while glowing symbols on the walls disoriented the travelers. Wolverine stepped forward first, trying to find a way out, but the maze kept confusing him, turning corridors and leading him back to the same place.

Wolverine (frustrated): “Damn it, this maze is just mocking me. Every path leads me back to the start.”

Deadpool (smirking): “Oh, old man, you’re too straightforward for these things! Watch and learn.”

Deadpool noticed that every time they changed direction, the light in the maze flickered slightly. He decided to take an unconventional approach. Instead of moving forward or backward, Wade suddenly turned in place and began walking sideways while doing a dance.

Wolverine (doubtfully): “You’re serious? Dancing?”

Deadpool (continuing his strange movements): “In the world of magic, Logan, you have to think creatively. See, when I move at an angle, the maze can’t react. Follow me!”

As if by magic (ironically, given the circumstances), the maze began to unravel, and soon they exited it, avoiding the traps.

Next, they encountered a corridor lined with enchanted portraits guarding the path to the Tower. Each portrait was charmed to unleash relentless magical attacks on anyone who tried to pass. The wizards in the portraits hurled curses and blinding spells.

Deadpool (dodging spells): “Oh, come on, guys, you’re so unfriendly! How about a deal? You let me through, and I’ll make your existence a bit more fun.”

Wolverine (dodging an attack): “Wade, we need to come up with something. We won’t last long like this.”

Seeing that the usual methods weren’t working, Deadpool tried a different approach. He started distracting the portraits by telling them funny stories.

Deadpool (jokingly): “You know, once I ended up in a magical bar and met a talking bug? No? Well, let me tell you!”

The portraits slowly began to lose focus on attacking, distracted by his stories. Meanwhile, Logan, taking advantage of the moment, carefully slipped past, using his instincts to avoid the last few spells. Deadpool, finishing his tale, calmly followed, winking at one of the portraits as he left.

At the end of their journey, right before the entrance to the Tower, they faced one final challenge—giant chess, known as “Devil’s Chess.” Every move they made on the chessboard could trigger a trap if they chose the wrong move.

Logan, not being much of a chess expert, glanced at the board and prepared to simply force his way through with brute strength.

Wolverine (preparing his claws): “What do you say we just break through? I can cut through any pieces.”

Deadpool (stopping him): “Hey, hey, calm down, Claws. This requires strategy. Let me give it a shot.”

Deadpool began playing a game against the chess machine. Using his penchant for unexpected moves and unpredictability, he started to confuse the opponent’s pieces. For example, he deliberately made risky moves to throw the system off.

Deadpool: “Checkmate, Mr. Knight. Even a magical machine can’t resist my genius.”

With the final move made, the board cleared, opening their path. They passed by the frozen chess pieces and stopped before the door leading to the Abandoned Tower.

Wolverine (with relief): “Well, Wade, you’ve surprised me. You’re really on a roll today.”

Deadpool (grinning): “What can I say? Genius is my middle name. Now let’s find this relic and save the world... or at least ourselves.”

When they finally reached the old, cobweb-covered door leading to the Abandoned Tower, they faced one last obstacle—a protective spell that reacted to any act of aggression. Logan, known for his quick temper, immediately began to get frustrated, but Deadpool decided to approach the problem differently.

Wolverine: “How are you going to open this damn door? Last time you tried to break something, it ended in an explosion.”

Deadpool (eyeing the door): “Oh, this time I’m prepared. Kind of.” (He pulls out a wand and begins waving it around, muttering a spell.) He started chanting a spell, but when it didn’t work, he didn’t lose his cool and instead started joking with the protective magic, even telling it stories about his past “heroics.” The spell, confused by his approach, weakened, and they were able to pass through.

The door creaked open slowly, revealing steep stairs leading upward. Inside the Tower, a gloomy silence prevailed, broken only by their footsteps.

At the top, they found a large hall filled with ancient artifacts and records left behind by old wizards. In the center of the hall was a pedestal with the sought-after relic—an ancient amulet said to grant its owner the power of foresight and time manipulation.

Deadpool (grinning): “Everything’s going smoothly. Let’s grab this amulet and become the coolest guys at Hogwarts!”

But as soon as Deadpool attempted to take the amulet, the Tower’s magical defenses activated, and ghostly guardians began attacking them. Their spectral forms floated in the air, their eyes glowing with an icy light.

Wolverine (unsheathing his claws): “Here we go. Stay behind me, Wilson, and don’t get in the way.”

Deadpool (mockingly): “Oh, sure, I’ll leave all the fighting to you, Mr. ‘Super Serious.’ Though, maybe I’ll throw in a spell or two.”

Without hesitation, Logan charged into battle, deflecting attacks with his claws and spells, while Deadpool, using his skills and humor, distracted the guardians, making mocking remarks and parrying their blows.

They fought side by side, fending off attacks and trying to prevent the guardians from reaching the amulet.

At one point, one of the guardians nearly reached Logan, but Deadpool, despite his jokes and antics, rushed forward and used a shielding spell to block the strike.

Deadpool (seriously): “Don’t think I can’t be a hero, Logan. I have my moments too.”

Wolverine (smirking): “You haven’t let me down so far. But let’s not waste time.”

They quickly realized that the guardians didn’t want to destroy them but were only protecting the amulet from those seeking power. At some point, they understood that the amulet’s power wasn’t in possessing it, but in finding a way to let it go. Deadpool, with his unconventional thinking, suggested that the guardians were the souls of wizards unable to leave this world because of their attachment to the amulet. Logan, knowing that the spirits deserved peace, agreed with him.

Deadpool (raising his hand): “Listen, guys, I know what it’s like to be trapped somewhere forever. How about we let you rest in peace, and we’ll just walk away like nothing happened?”

Logan recited a freeing spell found in one of the books in the hall. The amulet began to glow, and the ghostly guardians gradually disappeared, finally finding peace. The amulet then crumbled in their hands, and the Tower began to collapse. They barely managed to escape as the walls came tumbling down with a roar.

Standing at dawn in front of Hogwarts, they watched as the Tower vanished in the rays of the rising sun, leaving only an empty space where it once stood. They exchanged glances.

Wolverine: “Not bad, Wilson. But if you come up with something like this again, I’ll be the first to put you on detention.”

Deadpool (laughing): “Oh, don’t worry, Logan. The next idea will be even better! Get ready!”

They went their separate ways, but both knew that their friendship and adventures together were just beginning. Logan appreciated Deadpool’s ingenuity and unconventional approach, and Deadpool saw in Logan a true friend and ally, despite his gruff demeanor.

They returned to their respective houses, but from now on, they knew they could rely on each other in any situation.

[autumnslance]

Clive's Outfit in FF14!

Since we had the PAX East Panel for FF16 today, and we know it's coming in "early April" (FF16 Producer Naoki Yoshida didn't want to say more than that, as tomorrow there is a panel with FF14 Producer/Director Yoshi-P, who might get mad if Yoshida revealed more than he was supposed to and no, he is never getting tired of this bit) I hopped into Crime to check out Clive's outfit on various characters.

FF14-only players will likely raise brows at the set's name, "Metian", because "Metia" is used as a name for something in FF16's world, with a lot of significance to Clive and Jill from the very start. So this set's name (despite the clothes' origin in FF16's story) ties back to his lady.

I started off with Dalamud dye cuz that's what Aeryn happens to have on her jacket, hands, and feet at the moment:

Unfortunately, hyuran men at present do not get quite the bulky chests Clive and his comrades sport in Valisthea. Maybe the update will make them look more filled out.

Meanwhile, if C'oretta doesn't look she won't have to see it's not pink.

This also really pulls in Punchy's bust; she's maxed on the slider, while Aeryn and Dark are mid-ranged, and Iyna minimal. But in this, they're all looking pretty similar. And similar to the guys, actually...

Finally added color for Iyna; Celeste, and the pants are Deepwood. She doesn't want to be here today. Also yes I put Thancred in this outfit, what of it?

(Now if only they also gave us Jill's amazing outfit, then I could really cosplay...Uh, nevermind. Moving on!)

I dunno if it's the angle I used that makes the legs look funny on Iron Summer (more on the legs/feet in a moment). But Roe men do, in fact, have the chests to make this outfit work like a Valisthean gentleman. And I shamelessly used @driftward's Zoissette as an elezen example.

Now, Clive is obviously wearing long boots, right? Well...

Have to click the legs pic, but it's plated pants and ankle shoe things (in Celeste Green here). Blergh.

Extra Details!

Clive famously fights with giant swords, but also carries a short blade for a backup weapon; very historical of these nerds. The other side of the belt shows his pouches. The back cloak is missing any kind of device or hold for his giant swords, which is very video game of these nerds.

The belts are part of the vest.

[shrub-jay]

The New Arrival (Danny Kent)

CW: Body horror, teeth

TL;DR: The Kents take in another alien.

-------

The American Southwest has some of the highest found-meteorite density regions. New Mexico has a found meteorite rate of 1.9 per 1,000 square miles. Kansas trails with 1.8. A single farm in Smallville, Kansas, at just under 800 acres, has reported 23. One Dr. Kent reported iron meteorities landing in June, following northwesterly winds and a low chance of precipitation, over the course of several decades. It was an idle curiosity among Kansas meteorologists. A bizarre coincidence.  

“How big you think this one’s gonna be?” Jonathan Kent mused as he eyed the streak of green in the sky, leaning on a pitchfork. The still-young corn crop rustled in the breeze. 

“Not too big, or Clark would already be here,” his wife, Martha, mused from the porch. She looked up from Bubble Wubble Blast 2 on her phone. “Sweetie, you’ve gotta stop holding the pitchfork like that. I’m not ready for people to start comparing us to American Gothic.” Jonathan grumbled before leaning it against the porch railing, whistling sharply. 

“Shelby! Come here, girl!” A rambunctious golden retriever mix trotted around the corner, tail wagging. The streak in the sky had faded, disappearing behind the barn.  “Shelbs and I are going to go check it out on the four wheeler.” Martha perked up.

“And don’t forget to–”

“Log the coordinates, you’ve taught me well,” Jonathan finished, waving his hand dismissively and sending her a smile. The ATV engine roared to life, and he was off. It rumbled to a stop in front of a smoking crater. A head popped up, and two large eyes blinked back. Jonathan’s phone flash went off as he snapped a picture.

The figure recoiled, hissing. Ghostly white hair flickered around their face like fire, and a green sheen swirled across the wet surface of their eyes like rainbows on the surface of a bubble. Green tinged skin stretched across their features, and huge, wrinkled ears angled themselves back cautiously. Their dark nose twitched as Shelby approached the edge of the crater. A series of clicking noises rang out before their long, slender limbs collapsed beneath them like scaffolding.

Shelby darted forward.

“Woah girl, you don’t want to scare ‘em,” Jonathan whisper-shouted, hastily dismounting. It was too late. Shelby was already weaving joyfully between the new arrival’s arms, tail going a mile a minute. They obliged the dog with gentle scratches, and Jonathan smiled. “Looks like Clark might be getting a new sibling.”

It wasn’t hard to get them to follow. It was disconcertingly easy, in fact. Jonathan texted Martha to scrounge up some of the leftovers from their early dinner. He wasn’t sure if their new charge ate, given that he hadn’t seen a mouth. Perhaps they could photosynthesize like Clark, if the green hued skin was a clue. 

“How do you think they eat? If they eat at all?” Martha murmured, leaning forward on an elbow. Their guest prodded inquisitively at a gently warmed plate of food. The skin beneath their nose was taut and seamless. “I can never believe how lucky we got with Clark.” 

“Hell if I know,” Jonathan responded, tucking into his own plate of food. The smell of shepherd’s pie always whet his appetite. Their company watched him carefully. Jonathan gestured with his fork with ‘cheers’ motion before relishing the forkful of luscious potato, mouth already watering from the well browned beef. 

Jonathan Kent was a man who sometimes wondered if the point of life was to hear food sizzle while cooking. Cracking fresh eggs and wiping freshly minced garlic from the slightly tacky blade of a knife were simple tasks and simple joys. He wondered if Clark was eating well. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by a sharp crack and a soft gasp. The figure’s pointed chin had lowered, the muscles of a jaw straining into visibility. Where their mouth would be, the skin stretched tighter still, before caving in like the hollow of a cheek. They emitted a high pitched, painful whine, eerie as a theremin, limbs tangling around their head like a self imposed cage. Martha lurched forward in concern.

The skin began to split. Fibrous layers burst forth, as if they had only been held together by tension. Their face bloomed like a roll of tissue shredded by a cat's claws. Pieces began to flake and fall off, and the whine intensified as something began to protrude. 

A tooth. A startlingly human looking incisor. Jonathan’s fork clattered onto his plate, and he winced in commiseration. They began to claw at the flaking skin, slowly excavating a set of pearly whites. When they finished, piles of white flakes littered the room. They sneezed, shaking their head, rubbery ears slapping against their face.

They gnashed their newly grown pair of human teeth with apparent glee. 

“It seems like they might be able to fit in just fine.”

[theoneandonlysemla]

A fashionably late WIP Wednesday

(This is my fifth try to post this because the German internet is a so called "Bambusleitung" again)

Wohoo!

Thanks for the tag to @skyrim-forever and @thequeenofthewinter!

Tagging: @vanilleeistee @ladytanithia @tiredela @kartaylirsden @dirty-bosmer and everyone else I forgot and who wants to do one too. Feel free to tag me! :)

So, the WIP. It's a writing WIP again, long time no see! I'm gnawing on this chapter for almost two now and it is blowing up, I may have to split it in two because some important things still need to happen (*cough* Elenwen being a bitch *cough*). Plotwise we're in Nevri's POV and she had the misfortune of getting captured by the Thalmor and they abducted her to the Embassy's dungeons. There, she has a not so nice meeting with Rulindil. (Uhm CW for torture I guess [no gore]) Have fun reading:

The door to her cell opened once more, the iron’s creaking hurt in her ears. Nevri did not lift her head, but she saw a pair of black boots with golden adornments enter her prison.

“Hello Madame Veledor, I hope you're enjoying your evening so far?” she heard his sardonic tone.

Fatigued, she closed her eyes. Her shoulders and arms ached so badly. The angle at which she was chained caused her hands to go numb. In response, she only let out a muffled groan and paid no further attention to the Thalmor.                        Crunching footsteps followed and something cold and smooth touched her chin, pushing it upwards.

“Look at me,” he commanded with threatening calm in his voice.

Nevri squeezed her eyes even tighter shut. A sting on the soft underside of her jaw made her flinch. Moist warmth trickled down her neck and she lifted her lids. Rulindil stood before her, far too close for her liking. The blade of his golden dagger rested under her chin. He held a goblet in his other hand and took a savoury sip from it. Drops of cold, clear water caught in his beard and Nevri's throat clenched. It had been so long since she had had a drink and now the refreshing relief was within her grasp. But she could not reach for it. Rubbing her rough lips on the cloth in her mouth, she felt her mouth dry out even more. She had no choice but to fixate on the goblet of water.

“Are you thirsty?” he mocked her and barked a laugh. “If you're ready to have a little chat with me, I could give you something to drink. But you'd have to co-operate. What do you think, Dunmer?”

Nevri's eyes flitted to the chalice of water again, then met his gaze. Dark and ominous, he looked towards her. She didn't move her head, stared back at him.

“No?” he asked, a look of false pity on his features.

The tip of his dagger traced her jawline, came to a halt at her earlobe. For a second, Nevri expected to lose an ear. At least it was the left one, that was already crippled. But instead of separating the cartilage from her skull, the tip found its way under the rag that was her gag, following its course to her lips. One tuck, and the fabric spilled from her mouth like bile. The sudden freedom in her mouth came so unexpected that a retching cough shook her. Gasping for air, she clung to her shackles, her fists clenched and her nails driving crescent-shaped indents into her flesh.      When her cough had settled, Rulindil held the chalice to her mouth. Careful not to tilt it, he pressed the gold-plated metal to her lower lip. Nevri felt the coolness of the water on her skin, as fresh as snow. Her tongue sticked to the inside of her teeth and with a smacking sound, she opened her mouth a little.

“Will you speak to me?” he inquired once more, watching her restless figure in awe.

A craving dominated Nevri, she wanted, no, she needed the water. She had to have it in her mouth, taste the damp liquid and it to rain down on the desert that had formed in her throat and oral cavity. Her lips became numb, trembled and heat accumulated in the back of her head. It ran over her scalp, reached her face and flushed her cheeks. At the same time, goosebumps formed on her arms and legs. Thirst was all in her head and finally, she nodded.

A satisfied grin spread across the inquisitor's face. However, he did not hand her the redemptive sip as expected, but instead brought the goblet to his own mouth again. He drank with relish before lowering the blade on her neck.

“Let's get straight to the point then,” he said and took a step back. “How did you survive the fall?”

Nevri fixed her gaze on the chalice in his hand, unable to think of anything but the water in it. A pulsating headache spread across the right side of her forehead, dragging down over her eye like an axe blow.

“I - I don't,” she stammered, every little word an ordeal for her throat. “I don't know, she finally pressed out.” And it was the truth.

Rulindil let out a pretended sigh and approached her again.

“Lying won't get you anywhere, Dunmer,” he muttered. “As long as you don't come clean with the truth, you'll stay here. Without bread, without water.”

He held the goblet next to her face and tipped it, the contents splashing on the ground. Small drops stuck to Nevri's bare legs and she trembled, her vision blurred with tears.  

[pwlanier]

PAUL DUPRÉ-LAFON (1900-1971) Spectacular modernist fireplace, circa 1948. The mantle of the chimney has a wide geometric arch formed by a black lacquered steel angle resting laterally on parallelepipeds sheathed with white Burgundy stone slabs. The wide clear brick sole accommodates the important landiers and the fireplace bar. The interior of the chimney is sheathed with riveted steel plates and decorated laterally with lions ridden by loves, the suspended inner coat, bordered by a wide rush, is animated by a succession of six golden stars. The sides and top of the tray, as well as the front siding of the sole, are made of large cream beige terracotta tiles. The top of the chimney is formed by a succession of large Saint Maximin limestone plates, held by large screwed black steel tie rods. The chimney is equipped with two large L-forming steel lighting landiers animated on the facade of yellow copper circles with black steel cut-out ailerons that make it possible to hold the clamp, shovel and bellows. The main lintel is punctuated by wide rivets and accommodates a long red copper cylinder on which rest two internal chenets, with adjustable spacing, formed of cut steel blades and resting at the back on cylinders. Black patina beaten iron pliers and shovel, bellows sheathed on the outside of red leather and on the inside of gold leather animated by a beige leather headband punctuated with upholstery studs. Rare and exceptional modernist fireplace, circa 1948. Featured here is the only remaining of the three large-scale fireplaces designed by Paul Dupré-Lafon. The mantel features a large black lacquered rectangular structure laterally supported by blocks tiled with white stone from the Burgundy region of France. The interior of the fireplace is plated with steel decorated with six golden stars and cupids riding lions. The top and the sides of the mantel as well as the front of the base are covered with large creamy beige terracotta tiles. The upper part of the fireplace (above the mantle) is covered with large Saint Maximin fossil limestone tiles reinforced by black steel strips. The fireplace comes with all its original accessories: andirons, bellows, shovel and tongs. The steel lighting andirons are held together by a long red copper cylinder. The bellows was covered by Hermès with red leather on the outside and with golden leather on the inside. The shovel and tongs are made of wrought iron with a black sheen finish.

Tajan

[brilla-brilla-estrellita]

THEY'RE COMPLETE??

My picture taking game has really taken a dive in this last stretch, so you'll have to bear with me through some bad lighting and angles. In my last post, I talked about how the edges of my pattern pieces frayed significantly, taking most of the seam allowance with it, but I thought it was still savable. I did not get pictures of how bad the pieces looked, unfortuantely, but trust me, it was rough.

I lined them up and sewed them with the smallest seam I thought I could get away with, then used my pinking shears on the edges of the seam to try to prevent further fraying. I was able to attach the front and back of each wing into approximately the right shape, but I was sure that they wouldn't look symmatrical enough either in size or spikes. I was pleasently surprised, then, when I put them on the frame to check and found they still matched pretty well! I did take some pictures at this point, but there's a 10 picture limit on posts, apparently, so I'm leaving them out for more interesting things.

The next step was to trace the pattern for the boning/fingers (like bat wings, ya know?) onto each wing. This made it very clear how much the wings had shrunk because the pattern hung a couple of inches off the edge of the wing on the two lower fingers... But that's ok! I really just needed a guide for the size and angle of the channels. I used my Frixion pens liberally, hoping that I wouldn't ever wear the wings in a cold enough climate to make the marks show up again after I ironed them away (more on this later).

Pictured above: One wing on the wing frame with the traced finger channel lines in dark blue (or maybe it was purple?).

I sewed along those lines. The first wing went swimmingly. While working on the second wing, I realized the fabric on the bottom, a scrunchy gauz (which is the outside of the wing) was getting bunched up in some places on the vertical channel. I checked the first wing, the one that had gone "swimmingly," and sure enough, the bunches existed there, as well. The second wing had to have its stitches picked and resewn a few times while I played around with different techniques. I ultimately decided there was no way to avoid it (and I was getting tired of dealing with it), so I said fuck it and let the bunches exist. Honestly, I don't hate them.

Pictured above: The left and right wing and their bunches. You can see the bunches on the left one are more evenly spaced and almost look intentional. I couldn't replicate that with the right wing, which looks more... organic.

The next step was to sew the two outsides of the wings together to cover the back of the back plate. I was again concerned that I had lost too much fabric to the fray to be able to sew them together, but I again decided to just try it and see how it turned out. I really didn't want to have to dye another strip of fabric to stick inbetween there. And boy am I glad I tested it out because there was totally enough fabric!

Pictured above: Wings on wing frame with back pieces sewed together to hide the back plate! You can see the seam right down the middle.

The final step was to insert some wire into the channels to give them dimension and be able to shape them, but before I did that, I needed to iron-erase the marks I drew on. I find this process very magical, so I took a video for you.

And finally, the last step! I got some thick soft wire meant for gardening and fed it into the finger channels. It has a rubbery texture which of course prevented it from sliding in easily, so it was a long, slow process, but so, so worth it! I also added small pieces of wire to the two top spikes and the two bottom spikes to help fill them out, though I'm not sure they're really going to stay there long term becuase there's nothing but friction from the rubber casing holding them in place.

Pictured above: A length of the green soft gardening wire to be inserted into the finger channels.

Every time I tried to shape the wire before putting the wings on, it would look wrong once the wings were hanging naturally, so I had my husband help me shape them once they were on. And with that, we have the final result!!!

Pictured above: Front and back with wings closed.

Pictured above: Front and back with wings open.

I am SO happy with how they turned out. They have a lot of mistakes, but even so, they look so cool. And Simon's wings are a little fucked up anyway. This is the largest project, both sewing and prop-wise, that I have finished with time to spare before the event AND that has actually fully come together. I don't have to be pinned in. Nothing has to be glued on. I don't have to worry about what angle I'm photographed from to hide unfinished elements. It's just... done. I'm proud of myself for seeing it through, especially when I contemplated giving up so many times (and in the past, I probably would have).

I will of course make one more post with pictures of me with the intended outfit(s)!

Future Enhancements:

The harness is black and the shirt I'm planning to wear is yellow, so it's going to show. If I can manage it, I may try to make some covers for the harness straps as well so they blend in a little better, but we'll see. SSCoNE is less than a week away at this point!

Aside from the harness, my next planned upgrade is Spadey, of course! I'll plan that for SSCoNE 2025.

And now it's time to start designing a second pair for my renaissance faire outfit!

I would like to thank Dimension20's Fantasy High: Sophomore Year, Crown of Candy, and Unsleeping City campaigns as well as Bridgerton seasons 1&2 and good ADHD meds for being my constant companions during this process. This is really the perfect project for binging D20!

[petermorwood]

An old article, but amusing regardless.

First it was James Lileks and the Gallery of Regrettable Food. What were the photo editors on these cookbooks thinking?

I'm well aware the colour quality of old pictures degrades and yellows, to their detriment, but IMO the images on that website can't have looked very appetising even when new.

There are ways to assemble variegated foodstuffs on a plate that looks attractive, and then there are these.

Dimly-lit meals for one and Sad desk lunches are yet more shuddersome antidotes to lovingly-photographed food porn erotica (porn would be messy close-ups of eating it).

However, despite what the article suggests, food photography doesn't need "the highest-spec kit while dangling from light-fittings for just the right angle" to look good.

*****

Using a phonecam while out with your friends in a crowded pizzeria isn't going to give the best results, but then neither is a joyless packed lunch on a rainy Monday in February, even if shot with a $33,000 camera like this Hasselblad, and full studio lighting.

@dduane's hobby site European Cuisines (down for maintenance) did just fine for years with a Sony W17, a compact digicam with a superb Zeiss lens.

Here are Sony shots of an apple upside-down cake made with Beauty of Bath apples from our own tree (they really are pink all the way through) and a quiche Lorraine just out of the oven.

After a while I got a second-hand Nikon D40 DSLR; the money saved on second-hand let me afford an excellent lens, a top-of-the-line flashgun and that neat little flash which is so much better than the camera's built-in one.

Here's the Nikon's take on last year's roast-goose-and-all-the-trimmings Christmas Dinner, as well as bacon (corned beef is the Americanised version) and cabbage for St Patrick's Day.

Now we're mostly using HTC U11+ smartphones whose cameras are not only top-notch but have excellent low-light capability.

This is good, because our lighting has always been mostly natural daylight with occasional flash and reflector-screen assistance.

Here are U11+ images of soda bread done in a cast-iron casserole or Dutch oven, and Geflügelragout (a stew of roast chicken with red wine and lemon) with saffron-pumpkin noodles.

This has become Brightwood Vintner's Chicken in the Food and Cooking of the Middle Kingdoms project, and why not? It's delicious! Here's DD and U11+ in action, and the noodle close-up she was shooting in that pic.

None of the food we shoot is "styled" for photography with varnish for glossiness, paint for cream, machine oil for honey, microwaved cotton-wool for steam and lots of other cunning but inedible trickery.

Our stuff is all for eating - so much so that getting "photograph the food" and "eat the food" in the proper order can sometimes be a struggle.

Like these crumpets, for instance.

You would, wouldn't you?

I nearly did, giving DD conniptions because she hadn't photographed them yet, and the Kerrygold butter was melting Just Right...

In a choice between shooting Have To Eat images and Want To Eat ones, we'll stay on the Want To side of the fence, and if people looking at those pix also Want To take a bite out of their screens, we're getting the job done.

And we're not hanging from the light-fittings to do it... :->