#malt engine

[rocketpunksantics]

Meet Favro, the first character from Icognys I've imagined for my show. I wanted her to look like a 8-9 year old girl, but with a bit of a savage girl vibe to her, so I gave her an overall dress with a shirt, super long messy hair and I had the idea of her always going bare feet to expand upon the savage girl vibes I wanted, and then I had the idea to add a pocket like on a hoodie on her dress cause it'd look cute, child-like and a bit easier to model than an actual overall pocket. She'd be the first person Chris encounters in Icognys, and, let's say she'd make a pretty big first impression, let's put it that way. But as Icognys is a parallel dimension, I wanted to find a way to differentiate its inhabitants to the humans, and I can't really say making fun hair colors when you have Jo having purple strands in her hair (and I might have an idea for a side character in the pilot episode with wild hair color, and you can always color your hair however you want so it's not really relevant). And then I thought about changing the ears, but I didn't want to go with just pointed elf ears, not that I don't like them, but rather that I thought I could go a bit further. So I made doubly-pointed ears, if you will. That gives them a bit more of an alien look, which is what I was after.

And now here's Eyrich, the second encounter Chris makes in Icognys. He'd be like an older brother to Chris and Favro as he's supposed to be like a 18-19 year old guy. He's rebellious, but as in he helps everyone in his community, breaks up fights, and so on. He's also a voice of reason (for plot reasons I don't want to spoil), so I tried to make some cool stuff with his design, and I figured making him a punk rocker would fit really well. The textures aren't final, I have many ideas I'd like to implement on him, from frayed jeans to hinting at his trimmed hair on the sides to his battle vest with many patches and badges and even just some seams on the shoulders and even his shoes will get textures.

I'm still busy working on the storyboard, I made a handful of props for the first few scenes, but I just took a break to work on character designs to take a little break and make what I love best: character models. I have 2 more models I could show you but aren't as important as Favro and Eyrich, even though they're still fun characters (there's one I so want to punch, it's amazing). Story for another day, I think.

[axiasart]

How to install malt/BEER

NPR render engine for Blender

What is malt and BEER?

From the official website:

Malt is a fully customizable real-time rendering framework for animation and illustration. It's aimed at artists who want more control over their workflow and/or their art style, with special care put into the needs of stylized non-photorealistic rendering. Designed as a community effort to expand the possibility space of 3d rendering, it provides graphics programmers and technical artist an enjoyable “shadertoy-like” workflow inside Blender, while still allowing to effortlessly share their work with non technical artists through Python and GLSL plugin Official website mal3d.com

Blender Extended Expressive Renderer (BEER) is a free and open source realtime non-photoreal (NPR) rendering engine. The main feature of BEER is the ability to extend the rendering capability from the ease of adding custom shaders to a customizable shader graph. Since NPR is a journey of endless styles which never settle, we need a render engine which will fulfill all the stylized needs. Light BWK, co-founder of BlenderNPR.org

It's a free and Open source real time render engine made with full focus on Non Photorealistic Rendering or Stylized rendering. It distinguish itself from other engine by being extremely customizable for the most skilled among us

Showcase:

Made by @/Renato3xl

Made by myself @axiasart

The only inconvenience with this render engine is the terrible terrible (needed to be said twice) lack of up to date tutorials. This shouldn't confuse people in thinking that this project is dying or unpopular. The latest release was on July 20th.

How to download and install malt/beer?

Downloading malt is pretty straightforward, on the github release page: https://github.com/bnpr/Malt/releases/tag/Release-latest

blender preference, enabled Malt render

Downloading and installing BEER is more complicated, first of course downloading it from github: https://github.com/bnpr/BEER

From the zip you will only need the BlenderBeer folder so you should extract is and put it anywhere.

You will also need to download Pygments which is found here: https://github.com/pygments/pygments/tree/master

You won't need the whole thing, once you download the zip, extract the pygments folder only.

Now that we have all the ingredients we can start cooking.

First you will need a script folder, put it where you keep your blender files. Then in this script folder add two folders modules and addons.

Next, you move the pygments folder in the modules folder and the BlenderBeer folder in the addons folder.

[williamrablan]

Return of the Big Boy

There’s just something about sharing a small adventure with family. Since I went to see the Big Boy last year solo, I wanted to share it with family this time and invited my son, grandson, and sons-in-law to visit it with me. As things would turn out, only my son Gerald and my grandson Austin were able to go. But before I get going too much, what the heck is the Big Boy. Vital StatisticsTender…

[yeyinde]

waking up after a night out drinking in a foreign country only to realise that the bed you're in is not your own. no one is beside you. you try to leave but the doors are all locked. the windows won't open. you're trapped. a pretty bird in a cage.

nothing is in the dressers except large, old shirts. the clothes you were wearing when you woke up disappear after you take a shower. no panties. no bra. food shows up on schedule. you never see who leaves it.

they don't answer when you scream. when you bang your fists against the door until they're bloodied. passing out on the floor when the drugs finally kick in. but the mess you make in the daytime is cleaned up. your hands bandaged. disapproval heavy in the air along with the stale scent of tobacco. smoke.

when you're good, you get things. books. magazines. treats. your favourite food. a laptop arrives when you sob yourself to sleep after screaming yourself hoarse about loneliness, and how this isn't right. this isn't okay. it's restricted, of course. you log into Facebook but the moment you try and ask for help, the internet is turned off. you're being watched. monitored closely.

you learn your lesson slowly, giving nothing away to your family and pretending you're enjoying your holiday. being good. quiet.

instead of treats, gifts, recipe books arrive—some pages dogeared. you start making the food. leaving a plate in the fridge. it's gone the next morning. more recipes appear. you make them, too. an expensive chain comes next. a pretty gold necklace for a pretty bird in a golden cage.

(each meal gets you a strange rash on your cheek, jaw the next morning. beard burn, you think, and try not to shudder.)

lingerie comes after. silk, lace. all of it fits perfectly. you try to avoid it. the idea, the implication, is a knife between your ribs, but the next morning, your laptop is missing. the books are gone. food, too. your clothes disappear until all that remains is the lingerie set and a little black box. one you pointedly ignore. throw out with the trash. chew on gum to make the ache in your belly go away until that vanishes too.

your world is narrowed down to hunger. loneliness. isolation—

(in the corner of the rooms, a red light glints in the dark. lonely, but not alone.)

it persists until you relent. give in. another lesson you learn. you wear the set to bed, and try to think nothing of it—

you wake up to something heavy around you. a warm, thick body pressed against your bare spine. coarse chair tickling the skin between your shoulder blades. a burly arm under your neck, elbow bent to wrap a rough hand around your neck. the other slung over your hip, shoved between your thighs. something hard presses into your ass. a bruising pressure. it aches. you stifle a gasp, but with his long, thick fingers wrapped tight around your throat, he feels it.

everything goes still. quiet. just the faint rustle of sheets. the scratch of coarse hair on silk. a breath. you tremble. fight back another gasp when lips press into your crown with a sharp inhale. scenting you. nuzzling into your scalp. warm breath that smalls of malt and honey. woodsy. tobacco.

your eyes adjust slowly to the dark, and fall on a black box left on top of your end table. velvet, you know. you've felt the softness between your fingers when you threw it in the trash with a sob. no escaping it, after all.

the hand between your thighs twitches. when he speaks, it shudders through your spine, makes your hair stand on end. it's a growling purr. the low roar of an old engine. more grit than comfort in the midnight dark.

"jus' close your eyes, love," he rasps, pushing his thick body tighter against you. coiling around you like a big, hungry bear. "an' go back to sleep for me."

and you do.

[lilmissnatcat24]

for no other reason than i worked at an ice cream shop for eight years, here's what ice cream the mass effect characters would eat

shepard: neapolitan, strawberry for their paragon side, chocolate for their renegade, vanilla to balance

garrus: moose tracks, but will pick it apart just for the peanut butter cups and give shepard the leftovers

tali: literally any booze flavored ice cream

liara: mint chocolate chip because she secretly kind've fucks with the taste of toothpaste but will never admit it out loud

kaidan: butter pecan. it's not everyone's favorite, but it's his, and he's totally cool with it

ashley: whatever the 2183 equivalent to the tonight dough. cookie dough chunks, brownie chunks, butterscotch, chocolate chips, malt chunks, everything

wrex: this man is old as balls!!!!!! rum raisin!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

joker: lemon sherbet. you cannot tell me that man is not lactose intolerant

miranda: cherries garcia, little bit sweet, little bit tart

jack: the most sickening sweet shit you can think of. cotton candy with marshmallow superman with a side of sugar

jacob: some sort of dark chocolate peanut butter ice cream that sounds good in theory but in reality you can only take like 3 bites of before you get a tummy ache

zaeed: banana splits that he likes to mash together with a spoon and eat like some deconstructed milkshake

kasumi: the weird avant gard shit you see in hipster vegan shops, like some bacon sweet potato rosebud ice cream

mordin: coffee ice cream, because he likes the taste of coffee but if he were to actually drink it he would spontaneously combust

grunt: those froyo shops that were everywhere in 2014 where you could make a bowl with like 5% froyo and 95% other toppings and it cost 14 dollars

thane: doesn't like ice cream because it reminds him of how he abandoned his child and how his wife is dead and he could never go back to the life he left behind, the life of stability, because his body is engineered for a deadly purpose and he can never atone for his sins rocky road

samara: this woman is old as balls!!!!!!!!!!!!! pistachio!!!!!!!!!!!

legion: tried vanilla ice cream. too sticky, got stuck in his wiring.

james: one of those brownie sundaes that weighs approximately 5 pounds and is majority whipped cream

steve: chocolate chip. classy, just like him ;)

traynor: something smooth and rich and velvety and inexplicably sexy, like raspberry chocolate chunk

edi: takes the idea of ice cream a little too literally and just has a bowl of heavy cream with ice cubes. is confused why everyone is disgusted.

javik: ice cream is for primitives (peaches and cream)

[seat-safety-switch]

Stop doing what you're doing right now and go cancel a subscription. Chances are you're inadvertently donating money every month to a political party, long-dormant print magazine, streaming service, doomsday cult, or predatory mega-corporation. You are gaining literally no benefit from it. You probably forgot you even had it set up. That money could be spent better elsewhere, by cramming it into the mouth of your local weirdos.

All around you are folks trying to make something very strange. Maybe they're electrical engineers who are trying to build this thing they saw in their dreams, the humming menace that destroys the earth. Perhaps they're just some local artist working hard to make a mug that looks a whole lot like a cat's butthole. No matter what, you can afford to support these folks financially by simply reaching out and cancelling a recurring payment to some group of faceless assholes.

Conversely, those faceless assholes love subscriptions, for the precise reason you may have already guessed. People forget to stop paying them. Or, more likely, they've made it a huge pain in the ass to stop paying them. Don't worry. Here at Seat Safety Switch's Subscription Scam Scancellers (we couldn't come up with a good synonym, and Ted in accounting kept pushing really hard for "ceasers" without realizing that's A: not a word, and B: doesn't start with S) our job is to make sure that you get your five to nineteen dollars a month back in your pocket.

How do we do it? With machine learning, you ask? Take your R2D2 fetish somewhere else, freak. No, we do it the old fashioned way: by hiring people who are too salty to work anywhere else. Half of our employees are former stevedores and union electricians who got fired for swearing too much at work. They will absolutely not take "no" for an answer, and sitting all day on the phone yelling at customer service robots while they burn through a pack of Pall Malls and a flat of malt liquor is essentially a holiday for them.

So call on us today, and we'll get you hooked up. Of course, to get the best service, you'll need to be part of our "Premium Club," which involves a small payment of only $7.50 a month. Your first three months are reduced to $3.60 a month! You can cancel anytime you figure out how to.

[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader)

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 1.6k

Summary:

The door shuts behind the green-dressed lady who immediately presses her back to it. She looks over at her friend with a devilish expression, her perfectly white teeth shining in the moonlight as they come out to bite her lower lip. It’s enticing, almost seductive, and you take one look at the purple-dressed woman to see that it’s working. Without a second to waste, she grabs her friend by the jaw and–

Oh.

Friends don’t do that.

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

“A long time ago, way back in history, when all there was to drink was nothin’ but cups of tea.”

You take a long sip of your beer, smiling widely at the eccentric singing man atop the table.

“Along came a man by the name of,” he pauses, gesturing for everyone to sing the name “Charlie Mops,” along, as do you eagerly so, “and he invented a wonderful drink and he made it out of hops,” he laughs as he hops down dramatically, taking the spare space next to you.

The sound of everyone in the inn banging their fists against their tables worked as drums to accompany the man playing the fiddle in the back.

“He must have been an admiral, a sultan or a king, and to his praises, we shall always sing,” he yells out the command, throwing his hands in the air as he jumps back onto the table, “Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer! Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer, tiddly beer beer beer."

Your gaze drifts across to the singing crowd, observing with a content smile: a group of men dressed in brown trousers and yellow smoke-stained shirts, their vests doing nothing to hide the tells of unwashed clothing; young boys with chimney smoke staining their cheeks, faces hardened by early labour; grey women in longer drapes, some cheering along to the music, some scrunching their faces up in jealousy as they glance over the younger birds that flaunt their youth with tight-waisted corsets in shades of pink and beige.

And you?

You fit in. Or try to, anyway. Being somewhat of a chameleon has proved to be vital to your survival over the years. It’s dangerous to stand out, to look different, be different to the people around you. Everyone holds their community close to their heart, protective over the people they call family; you would never want to seem like a threat to them, not more than you’ve already been branded as by your own.

You wouldn’t call them your family. You can’t, not after your coven banished you for the simplest of things, a need so innately human, you think. But arguing with the ignorant disturbs nothing but your peace, so you’ve learnt through your struggles that backing down, packing your belongings and being on your way to the next adventure is the safest thing to do. For your survival. Every decision you make since you exist has to be for your survival.

The singing man jumps down again after walking up and down the rectangle table, the beer heavy on his breath, “A barrel of malt, a bushel of hops, you stir it around with a stick, the kind of lubrication to make your engine tick,” you smile and nod along, lifting your pint in silent cheers, doing your best to ignore the breadcrumbs littering his overgrown beard, “40 pints of wallop a day will keep away the quacks. It’s only eight pence ha'penny and one and six in tax, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5!”

When he yells ‘Everybody!’ you blend in and sing along as loud as you can, but quiet enough to not seem obnoxious, especially for your gender which can be dangerous in this environment.

“He must have been an admiral a sultan or a king, and to his praises, we shall always sing. Look what he has done for us he's filled us up with cheer! Lord bless Charlie Mops, the man who invented beer beer beer, tiddly beer beer beer. The Lord bless Charlie Mops!”

Joining along with the loud cheers, not a hair looks out of place. This is probably the best community you’ve stumbled into yet, an easy blend, a cheap Inn, generous owners who give you discount after discount. You do clean their dishes on occasion when the public crowd filters out just past the second hour and all that is left are the regulars. Kindness goes a long way, you think.

“Ay, well done, lass, you have a magical voice!” The singing man bumps his shoulder to yours, loud and wide-eyed, clearly hiding nothing about his intentions as he looks down unabashedly, “Say, you could very well take my earnings,” he teases, clearly implying something rather vulgar about who he thinks she is.

“Oh, you flatter me, Sir, but your earnings are yours to keep,” you laugh along, attempting to politely shut him down. But he has had far too many pints and his patience has run thin.

The man places a hand to your arm, gripping a little too tight to simply be friendly though his smile remains wide and polite to the general onlooker. Before you can conjure up a quick sleeping spell – as you are powerful enough to protect yourself – he falls back with a dramatic screech. Your surprised eyes follow him, failing to hide a snort as his legs remain straight up in the air. He grips the back of his head as his eyes clench in pain.

This wasn’t just a fall though, you know it; you can feel it, taste it in the air. Magick. Not just any Magick, this feels different, addictive, impossibly powerful. Immediately, your head spins around to try to locate the person who did it, eyes finding none looking at you, rather everyone’s joined in on laughing at the singing man still rolling around on the floor.

“You’re done for the night!” The owner yells at him with a wide smile, showing off his yellow, crooked teeth. He drags the drunkard by the shoulders, helping him through the doors and up the stairs to his lodgings, but your eyes remain scanning the crowd. 

Rising to your feet, you nonchalantly make your way to the bar with your pint, sipping as you look past the three women huddled in the corner, their hairs falling in dramatic blonde curls, past the long-moustached men with top hats bigger than their own heads. You’re out of practice after running from witches for months, but you finally sense where the power is strongest. A pair of striking women stand just by the doors, one with warm brown eyes and the other with blues that carry the skies. They turn to you the moment your eyes lock to them, their expressions dark, humoured, curious. The brown-eyed one tilts her head slightly, the hints of a smirk forming at the corner of her lips.

“You alright, lass?” The owner suddenly appears with a heavy hand on your shoulder, startling you out of your narcotic stare. Giving him a tight smile and quick nod, you turn back to the entrance but find the women have disappeared, leaving no trace but the lingering taste of Magick.

That night you end up tossing and turning in your creaky wooden bed, wondering who they were, what they were doing there, and why they helped you. Was it for the simple amusement of putting a man in his place? Was it something more? A show of power, a warning to you that they’ve been watching? That they know of what you are? Could it possibly be witches from your mother’s coven, your past finally catching up to you?

All you knew was you had to get to the bottom of it.

It’s easy enough to continue your routine, despite the curiosity and paranoia gnawing at your thoughts. The dishes get washed every night with a small smile and phrases that slip off your tongue like clockwork. ‘Really, I love to help,’ and ‘Oh, I cannot accept this, please, allow me to at least give you my earnings from my trades,’ followed by, ‘Thank you, you two are far too kind to me.”

It’s surface, but you do enough for them not to ask questions about who you really are and where you really come from. All that matters is no trouble follows; that you cannot risk. 

But a fortnight later, while enjoying a pint with the innkeeper’s daughter, you feel it again. Forgetting yourself in the middle of the conversation, you turn your head to the doors like a magnet, unable to force yourself to look away. They’re not hiding a thing this time, both of them staring right at you with mirrored smirks. They’re dressed in green and purple gowns, darker shades that almost shimmer in the candlelight.

A throat clears. “Is everything all right?”

You turn back to the innkeeper’s daughter, catching her concerned brown eyes as she tucks an out-of-place black curl behind her ear. “Yes. Yes, no, I thought I caught a glimpse of somebody I knew. Must be my mind playing tricks on me.”

Reaching a hand over to rest on your arm as she leans close, “Or the beer,” she teases with a giggle, almost whispering bashfully as if drinking at her family’s Inn is a scandalous secret they share.

You let out a small giggle of your own before clearing your throat, excusing yourself for some fresh air. “The stench can be overwhelming,” you joke as you stand up.

“Of ale?”

“Of men.” 

You leave her bent over bursting out in laughter, finally able to push your way through the crowd. It’s easier to think without the clatter of cups and spoons, the howling and cheers of drunk men, the high-pitched giggles of flirty women. The moment you step outside, it all turns into a simple hum, a deep vibration that you can feel as you trail your hand over the wooden walls. 

The sound of the door bursting open disrupts your peaceful moment. Luckily you had trailed off far enough to hide around the side of the building, not wanting company at this moment. But you feel it again and have to peek over to catch them. The door shuts behind the green-dressed lady who immediately presses her back to it. She looks over at her friend with a devilish expression, her perfectly white teeth shining in the moonlight as they come out to bite her lower lip. It’s enticing, almost seductive, and you take one look at the purple-dressed woman to see that it’s working. Without a second to waste, she grabs her friend by the jaw and–

Oh.

Friends don’t do that.

You should have known the moment you saw them a fortnight ago. They share the desire that you hold, see each other the way all women should be seen. It’s in their shared heated gaze as they pull apart, a string of saliva connected their lips. It’s a look of power, of control, of independence and dependence at once. Before you even understand what you are doing, you circle your fingers over your open palm and cast a tracking spell, sparking a string of light only visible to you. 

They leave before anyone notices, and you follow.

masterlist + guidelines

hope you guys enjoy this one! will be posting more, and there will be eventual smut :)

[master-john-uk]

I apologise for failing to complete my updates yesterday evening.

After attending VE DAY 80 events in London on Monday, I had to travel to a hotel near Weymouth, Dorset to meet a group of Scandinavian engineers and apprentices who I accompanied to various locations in Dorset, Devon and Somerset. Their tour is mainly based on geology, of which I have little knowledge... but the Norwegian company insists that I attend to add some historical anecdotes, and give information about military training bases.

I waved goodbye to the lovely group of lads and girls at London Heathrow Airport Friday afternoon. It was a very enjoyable five days, but extremely draining. When I got home and sat down in my lounge with a very large glass of malt Scotch whisky, I very quickly felt tired... and soon afterwards crashed out in my armchair... mid-Tumblr post!

This photograph is of the hills close to my Kent residence. They do not look quite as green as this at the moment... as we have had very little rainfall over the last few weeks!

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Falling in love with Two-bit Matthews was easy. All it took was half a snickers bar and the first real conversation she’d had in years.

Staying in love with him was easy too. It’s everything else that’s the problem.

They don’t talk at school, for both of their sakes, even though a pang goes through her heart every time she walks past a couple and knows she could be with her own sweetheart if only the rest of the world saw him the way she did, could look at him like he was a dream instead of a delinquent. She thinks she wouldn’t even care about the stares or the whispers or even the shunning. She thinks she could get her parents on her side, or at least her dad, could make them see Keith instead of the showman he always pretended to be. 

If it was up to her they’d be public already. At least, if it was only her reputation on the line she’d have said to hell with it weeks ago and found him in the parking lot at lunch and kissed him in front of his buddies and god and everyone. She dreams about it more than she cares to admit. 

But it’s not just her reputation or her place in her friend group that’s on the line. It’s not even her place as dad’s perfect daughter, the crown jewel of his collection of beautiful, expensive things. Going public would be social suicide for her, yes, but for Two-bit… it could be deadly. 

Despite what most people think, Marcia is far from stupid. She knows being in love with a boy from the east side, a gangster with no money and ghosts where friends used to be, who fought hard and violently and unapologetically was the sort of thing that almost always ended in disaster. She knows by kissing him and cuddling him and giving him her heart she’s putting him at risk, painting a target on his back that will see the light of day sooner or later. Randy’s gone off the deep end, but Bob Sheldon had plenty of other friends who’d love to see a greaser guy bleed, especially one from the Curtis gang, and her secret relationship with Two-bit would give them the perfect excuse.  

Still, she can’t help it, the fact that she’s in love with him, and maybe that makes her selfish but he’s just as selfish as her because neither of them are thinking about calling this off, not even a little bit. 

Loving him is dangerous, but he isn’t, to her he is fun and funny and warm in a way that makes her heart race and her face flush and for the refined giggle mom taught her at a young age to give way to inelegant snorts. It’s too late to back out now. She couldn’t stop loving him if she tried. 

When she takes her seat in her art class, she allows herself a quick glance across the room. A pair of twinkly grey eyes, like the mercury they’d played with in chemistry a week ago, meet hers and he winks, quick as a flash, before he focuses back on his paper.

She can feel her cheeks flushing. 

Yeah, she’s all in.

*******************

It’s just past six, the sun big and orange on the horizon when she drives across the bridge and past the malt shop that’s the unofficial marker of exactly where the east side begins. She knows she looks out of place, sitting in her corvette with her hair done all fancy, but the old lady behind the counter at the shop is used to her by now, and hardly gives her a second glance when she cuts the engine and checks her lipstick one more time.

“You lost?”

She jumps a little, snapping her compact shut, but it’s just Two-bit, grinning at her where he’s leaning against the car, his slick red hair like liquid copper, tousled like a daydream where it curls around his ears, bleeding into his ridiculous sideburns.

“What?”

“Well, heaven is pretty far from here.”

It takes a second for the meaning to sink in, but when it does she can’t help the snort that escapes her. 

“That’s so stupid!”

“It made you laugh though,” he says, looking extremely pleased with himself, like that was the whole point, and she can’t help but reel him in for a kiss. He kisses her back before rounding the car with a whoop and leaping neatly into the passenger side, wild as she is but never so restrained.

She loves him for it.

“So darlin’, where are we off to ton-”

She cuts him off by pulling him into a kiss, a proper one this time instead of a simple peck hello, and even though the gear shift is digging into her hip and her curls are almost definitely tickling his nose, it’s kind of perfect anyway.

She loses herself in it for a second, the roughness of his lips and his possessive hand on her hip a contrast to the soft way he cradles her cheek, and she kisses him back just as desperately. It’s only when his hand starts to migrate away from her hip into more dangerous territory that she pulls away.

Not that she’s averse to the idea, but she’s not about to let him get a hand up her skirt in the parking lot of a malt shop when it isn’t even dark yet. She’s not the princess she pretends to be, and he’s exactly the rascal he claims to be, but she likes to think neither of them have quite reached that level of depraved. At least not yet.

He chases her lips with a groan.

“Oh c’mon, we were just gettin’ to the good part!”

“Buy a girl dinner first, why don’t you?” 

“No food in the world is better than that.”

“Not even Joey’s diner?”

“Hm,” he pretends to think about it, “it’s close, but no.”

“Glad to know I can narrowly beat a double cheeseburger in terms of holding your interest.”

“You beat everything when it comes to holding my interest,” he promises, abruptly sincere and absurdly sweet in the way he was the night they first met and no one else was paying attention, “I…never really stop thinking about you.”

All she can do to respond to that is kiss him again, and they end up making out for about another five minutes before she finally manages to gather enough mental strength to tear herself away.

“Okay, okay,” she shakes her head a bit, trying to remember how to think, and he laughs at her, though his pink cheeks and dazed eyes tell her he’s just as kiss drunk as she is, “we have to go or we’ll never get out of this parking lot.”

“I mean I wouldn’t be opposed to stayin’ here all night if we continue on like this.”

“And here I thought you might like to go further than a tongue kiss and some over the clothes action.”

He chokes on air, still unused to her boldness even after all these weeks, and she cackles, starting the engine and peeling out of the parking lot, unwilling to waste a minute of their precious time together. 

She drives them a town over, him alternating between pawing through her cassettes and whooping as the wind rushes through his hair. They go to their usual diner, hands intertwined and it doesn’t matter that he’s a hood and she’s supposed to hate him for it. The waitress’ eyes brighten with recognition when they walk in and she shows them to a booth in the window and brings them apple pie and ice cream for dessert when they finish their food, even though they didn’t order it. When they’ve licked the last of it off their spoons she pays, even though he offers to, like she always does, and he tucks an errant curl behind her ear, smiling at her like she’s a person instead of an idea of one, and Marcia is so in love she could die. 

Later, as they park on an abandoned back road and his sweet touches turn searing, she’ll wonder how anyone could ever think something this right could ever be wrong. 

She doesn’t think about it for long though. For a while, Two-bit makes it pretty hard to think about anything at all.

*****************

It’s a few weeks later, after he’s told his family and his gang, and she’s told Cherry, that something happens. 

“He’s going to hurt you.”

The words come from a younger girl with pretty red hair and hard blue eyes. Marcia doesn’t know her but she knows who she is. It would be hard not to: she and her brother look shockingly alike, apart from their eyes. While Two’s eyes are warm moonlight, this girl’s are like a river in the winter, unyielding and unforgiving.

“What?”

“My brother. He’s going to hurt you.”

“He would never-“

“He would never mean to, maybe,” Susie Mathews cuts her off, “but that’s not the same thing. He will hurt you. He loves his beer more than he’s ever loved any person and if you think you’re any different then you’re as stupid as everyone says you are.”

Marcia feels her cheeks heat. She knows what people say, that everyone thinks she’s ditzy for all she has some of the highest grades of anyone in the entire school.

“I’m not stupid.”

“Prove it then,” Susie challenges, “don’t fall for him. You’ll only hurt yourself. He’ll always disappoint you.”

It’s funny, Marcia thinks, as Susie stares her down and her entire world shifts unpleasantly. When Two-bit talks of his sister he speaks of a sweet girl who looks at him like a hero. He’d been near giddy the night he’d called after telling her and his mother about their relationship, so excited to share his family with her. But there is none of Two-bit’s fond rememberings in this girl, nothing to suggest the love her brother feels for her is reciprocated at all. Instead of an adoring baby sister, all she sees is another girl from the east side, the kind of tough, pragmatic girl, who’s tired eyes belied a type of hardship Marcia herself had never experienced and was sure she never wanted to. 

Susie may share Two-bit’s freckles and red hair, but clearly she shares none of his warmth. Marcia doesn’t know if she never had it in the first place, or if something happened to drain it away. She doesn’t think she wants to know.

“You think I’m being mean,” Susie observes, cocking her head, and a flood of copper curls fall over her shoulder, “but I’m not. I’m just being honest with you. God knows he never will be.”

She gives Marcia one last look, contemptuous and pitying and tired all at once, and turns on her heel, long hair swishing behind her, years more jaded than any fourteen year old has a right to be, and struts away.

Marcia stares after her, a seed of doubt taking root in her chest for the first time since she first kissed Two-bit months ago. 

What the fuck?

********

The thing is, Marcia knows the drinking is a problem.

She’s seen it in him, the way once he starts he can’t stop, and the fact that he’d shown up to one or two dates drunk. She knows, from the way he talks sometimes, that sometimes he cant live without it, and can’t face reality with it. She knows that he hates, sometimes, how much he drinks it. She knows.

But he isn’t mean. He isn’t cruel, has no quick temper or easy violence the way Bob did, no lust for bloodshed or beatings. Randy used to like his booze too before he went off the deep end, and Two-bit is mellower than even him when he’s soused, only becomes more him, wild and laughing and fun, but never mean, never dangerous.

Maybe it doesn’t excuse it, but Marcia lives in a house where mom’s sherry glass is full before noon, and dad’s scotch is always somehow empty, and they somehow manage to stay human, stay present, live despite the drink instead of getting lost in it. They are not cruel people either, for all that mother snipes,  and Marcia knows in her hear that even though she is in love with a drunk, Two-bit is the kind that can function, just like her parents. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

But Susie Mathews’ tired eyes follow her in the hallways and her words haunt her, ringing in Marcia’s head.

She doesn’t think Two-bit will ever hurt her. He never has yet, only ever came close the once, before the rumble, before they were even together. He doesn’t want to, that much she is sure of just like she is sure he doesn’t want to disappoint her, even though in every relationship that is something that is inevitable. 

And yet, Susie’s words still echo in her head, rooting themselves there and refusing to leave, no matter how much she wants them to. 

Loving Two-bit is easy. Not even the east side is enough to tear them apart. And yet the thought lingers, will this be?

As soon as she sees him in person she knows deep down that it won’t be. She’s all in, for as long as he’ll have her. It might break her heart, and she might just have to let it.

“I met your sister.”

“Really?” He lights up, a sun or a supernova or something even brighter the universe doesn’t have a name for yet, and he’s sober right now, and she couldn’t say anything to hurt him even if she wanted to, “what’d you think? She can be kind of standoffish sometimes.”

“I think,” Marcia says, thinking of Susie’s harsh words and tired eyes and the betrayal that seeped from her every pore, the kind that only came from a specific kind of bone deep hurt, “that she loves you very much.”

[zenless-zideblog-zero]

Belle: Hey Koleda! What're you up to?

Koleda: Just having a Drink. Why?

Belle: Just curious. Watcha Drinking?

Koleda: Twisted Tea.

Belle: What's that?

Koleda: It's tea but like ... Alcoholic. It's got malt in it.

Belle: ...

Belle: You can drink alcohol?

Koleda: Yeah?

Belle: ... Huh.

Koleda: Proxy. I am the President of a major Construction and Engineering Company.

Belle: ...

Koleda: I have a bachelors degree in Architecture - specifically Construction Technology!

Belle: ...

Koleda: I know I'm "Cute" and All, but really? You think anyone would let a kid work in an already Hazardous Industry, let alone work inside Hollows?!?

Belle: ... Now that you mention it, yeah, that makes a lot of sense.

Koleda: Yeah. Sorry for Raisin' my voice or whatever, but the fact you're the best in the business, and you never figured it out? That's Shocking.

Belle: Yeah that's fair.

[loucifersbitch]

tagged by @theotherbuckley and @bidisasterevankinard <3 i'm well into the second chapter of the kink fic, so please allow me to introduce Valentine 'Q' Dobson, Tommy's coworker, friend, and persistent pain in the ass

“Ugh,” Tommy grunts when he looks at his hands, his nose wrinkling, “so much grease.” “Here.” Q pulls a dirty shop towel that’s seen better days from his back pocket, but it’ll do. “Thanks. I’m gonna hit the showers before we get another call,” Tommy says, handing the towel back. “Copy that,” Q says, saluting just to make Tommy roll his eyes again. “I haven’t eaten lunch yet. You want anything from the cafe?” Tommy pulls his wallet out of his pocket - he knows Q is only asking because he doesn’t want to pay, but Tommy doesn’t mind - and hands over his card. “Get me the Standard with extra onion,” he says. “Oh, and a str-” “Strawberry malt, yeah, yeah, I know,” Q cuts him off. “Extra onion though? This is why you don’t have a boyfriend, Kinard.” Q ambles away before Tommy can defend himself, but he’ll get him back eventually. The showers are blessedly empty when Tommy walks in. He doesn’t linger, but he does take a little extra time to make sure there’s no engine grease left anywhere on his body. By the time he’s toweled off and dressed, Q is already waiting for him at the small table in the kitchen. The kid looks oddly nervous as Tommy sits down. “Hey,” Tommy says, sitting down. “Everything okay?” “Um - I might’ve - well, I -” “Spit it out, Q.” “I might have told Grant you were coming to the bar tomorrow night?” Tommy drops his head back with a groan.

tagging @carrythatwayt @powersuitup @sherlocking-out-loud @lavenderleahy @nelsonsmynickname

@neverevan @evansboyfriend @buckevantommy @bucksbignaturals @eddiestommy

@beefcakekinard @bi-buckrights @firewasabeast @lengthofropes @sunglassesmish

@monsterrae1 @rogerzsteven @smallandalmosthonest @shortsighted-owl @spotsandsocks

[rocketpunksantics]

And there we go! Here's a quick excerpt from the storyboard I'm currently working on. I don't know why the textures are bugging now, so I went back to older versions of the materials. But yes, it's all 3d! Don't mind the A-pose, it's just that I don't really want to pose all 22 characters in the scene all by myself (but that should change in the final version, mind you). I had to roll back on a previous version of Blender so I can work with the Malt render engine as it's easier to get the outlines. I know I could've made it in 2d, it would probably be quicker if I knew how to draw poses. But here I can do what I want with the camera, and I'm just too used to working in 3d that it's easier for me to work. I'll still have to work on the character design for the teacher, a museum employee, and a couple of bullies before jumping on making more backgrounds for the museum portion of the episode. I'll also have to do some research for a pretty important VFX that I'll use both in the storyboard and the animation itself. It's gonna be so much fun!

[dearabby1990]

Chapter 35: Best friends day out

You’re finally done drying your hair & add a little makeup just to brighten up your face a bit & spray some of your favorite perfume. Heading downstairs towards the living room you noticed how oddly quiet it is for a house full of guys only to be met with gareth relaxing on the sofa watching Miami vice he notices you & sits up “hey goober the others went out shopping for god knows what you know how Eddie gets when he wants something so I figured I’d stay behind maybe we could have a best buds day beings it’s been awhile since we hung out just us two figured we could grab a bite & hit the record store or something” you smile and plop on the sofa next to him “sounds good fluff & stuff” you giggle & toss him your car keys & you barely let anyone drive your baby it’s a 1961 Chevy bel air not as spiffy as the one you all had for prom but still you cherish it beings it was your moms car putting lots of love & care into it replacing parts with Eddie’s help & she just got a new paint job as a gift from your love he knows how much you love light purple so he went ahead & had jimmy paint it all for you. “Really?! I can drive Paula?! Sweet!!” You laugh and you both take off to the car “man this is so fuckin cool jame!” He starts up the engine & the radio pops on you dig through your cassettes & pull out Billy Squire & show it to him “oh fuck yeah pop it in!” “Alright this is gonna be the best day ever!” My kinda lover comes on & you & gareth are singing & using your bottle of cola as a microphone laughing having a ball “oh I have an idea gare bear watch this” you flip the switch to drop the top and his eyes bulge from his head “no fuckin way this is so bad ass!” You both have the wind in your hair & not a care in the world your glad you got to spend time with gareth you both haven’t had fun like this since middle school. He pulls into the parking lot & you notice he took you to your old fave spot his parents would take you guys here before the end of the camping trips before your parents would pick you up. An old 50’s style malt shop with the best milkshakes & burgers Indiana had to offer waitresses on roller skates 🛼 glide up to your car with a note pad & pen “welcome to Marybeth’s malt shop my name is Dolores I’ll be your server what can I get for y’all this fine afternoon?” She says with a megawatt smile teal dress white apron pink skates blonde hair in a high ponytail chewing gum gareth knows me well enough to where he knows what I always get so he orders for us both “yes can we get 2 bacon cheeseburgers an order of cheese fries & 2 black cows” (old school drink gross but very popular it’s cola & ice cream like a root beer float) “sure hun anything else for you & your lovely lady?” “Oh we’re just best friends but that’s all thanks” she winks at gareth “I’ll be right out with your drinks” she skates off. You start laughing hysterically “WHAT?!” He’s confused as to why you think something is so funny “she was totally checking you out man as soon as you said we’re friends her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree” you start laughing again “bullshit she’s just being nice it’s her job!” You try to calm you laughing for a minute “okay we’ll see about that” he turns to you “what does that mean?” “Ohh you’ll see” she comes skating back with your drinks “here you both go here’s some straws is there anything else I can get you both?” You look at gareth and smirk “actually Dolores my friend here has an extra ticket to guns & roses & needs a date & you’re so beautiful maybe you two can go together hed need your number though” his face is red he looks like he wants to kill you “really?! Yes I’d love that!” She scribbles down her number and hands it to gareth and skates back off into the restaurant “how the fuck & I don’t have an extra ticket to shit Jamie what the hell?!” You pull out an envelope & pass it to him “this was supposed to be a part of your graduation gift but I can see you need it now more then later” he rips it open to pull out two front row center seats to guns & roses & flies across the gears to engulf you into a hug.

You both eat your lunch talking of ideas of what to look for in the record store. “I still can’t believe this shit what a day & it’s only the damn afternoon not only did I get a date but I have tickets to the hottest concert in Hawkins this month thanks to you jame thanks for hanging with me today” he nudges into your shoulder you chuckle “no problem fluff & stuff but let’s hurry I have to get something for Eddie at the record store as part of his graduation gift OH! Before I forget I wanna throw a graduation party for Eddie & hellfire but I want to surprise him you think you guys could help me out?” “You don’t have to tell me twice I’m here for whatever ya need”. Pulling into a parking spot you both bolt into the record store grabbing the new Iron Maiden album for Eddie knowing he’s been wanting it for quite some time. Gareth finding all he was looking for “so what else did you get him for graduation?” You smirk at him “well… I was gonna keep this a complete secret but since I know you’re good at not spilling the beans I’ll tell you since it involves us all.. so I have an account from when mom passed I haven’t touched a red cent at all I have it for future decisions but I wanted to splurge a little so I went ahead & got us all tickets to fly out to Detroit for a few days not only to go on a trip but two concerts I got us all tickets to see Kiss & 6 days after that we go see… METALLICA!!” His eyes bug out of his head “I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU!!” He’s swinging you around the store almost taking out a whole display you’re cracking up. “I love ya too gare bear but remember secret!” He nods like a mad man “my lips are sealed promise.. oh man this is gonna be so fucking cool!!” You both head to check out it’s almost dinner time you’ll have to head back to start cooking sundown isn’t too far away. Hopping in the car you & gareth had a ball & have to try and make time for all your friends from now on.

[alchemyofazeroth]

Dwarven Zymology, Alchemy in Mining, & Industrial Alchemy

Zymology is a highly advanced discipline that the dwarves of Ironforge have mastered over many centuries. Their alchemical expertise enables them to concoct potent brews and ingenious fuels that power their mining operations and machines. For example, the dwarves have developed a high-proof distilled alcohol that serves as an efficient fuel source for their steam-powered excavators, allowing them to delve deep into the earth in search of precious ores and gems.

The dwarves developed blasting powders by carefully combining saltpeter, sulfur, and charcoal in precise ratios. When ignited, these powders rapidly expand, fracturing even the hardest rock and greatly accelerating the mining process. Dwarven alchemists also concoct special metal-eating acids that can precisely etch intricate runes and channels into stone and metal components.

Other alchemical inventions help dwarven miners survive the dangers of their profession, such as glowstones that emit light without flame when exposed to air, healing salves that rapidly close wounds, and breathing tonics that let dwarves survive the noxious fumes sometimes released during mining operations.

The Cultural Composition of Ironforge

The cultural composition of Ironforge, the ancient underground city of the dwarves, is a fascinating tapestry woven from the distinct traditions of its inhabitants. The city's population primarily consists of three dwarven clans - the Bronzebeard clan, the Wildhammer clan, and the Dark Iron clan - who united in Ironforge after centuries of conflict, bringing their unique customs, crafting styles, and ways of life together under one great stone roof. This alliance of clans has created a rich and vibrant dwarven culture that permeates every corner of the city, from the ringing of hammers in the Great Forge to the sounds of laughter and clinking mugs in the bustling taverns.

In more recent times, the gnomes of Gnomeregan have also taken up residence in Ironforge after their own city fell to ruin. The gnomes carved out their own district known as Tinkertown, where their love for all things mechanical and technological has flourished, adding yet another layer to Ironforge's cultural milieu. The presence of gnomish inventors, tinkerers, and engineers has brought both innovation and a touch of whimsy to the city's atmosphere.

Beyond the dwarves and gnomes who call Ironforge home, the city also plays host to visitors from the other major Alliance nations, such as humans, night elves, and draenei. These visitors come to Ironforge for trade, diplomacy, and sometimes to study the unique crafting techniques of the dwarves. This influx of diverse peoples contributes to an air of cosmopolitanism in certain districts, particularly the Hall of Explorers, where scholars from across Azeroth come to share knowledge and plan expeditions.

Dwarven Zymology

Zymology, the study and practice of fermentation, holds a central role in the culture of the dwarves of Ironforge. For countless generations, dwarven brewmasters have honed and perfected the craft of brewing ales, lagers, stouts, and other alcoholic beverages. The proliferation of taverns, alehouses, and breweries throughout the subterranean city stands as a testament to the dwarves' strong drinking culture.

Alcohol is not merely a recreational indulgence for the denizens of Ironforge, but a cornerstone of their social fabric. Sharing a hearty pint is a ritual that strengthens bonds of friendship, seals business deals, and even plays a part in religious ceremonies honoring the dwarves' revered ancestors. The art of brewing is passed down from master to apprentice, with closely guarded family recipes treated as sacred heirlooms.

Dwarven zymologists are renowned for their innovation, forever seeking to craft novel and enticing concoctions to tantalize the taste buds of their kin. From the golden hues of honeyed mead to the rich, dark depths of roasted malts, the beers, ales and spirits of Ironforge are as diverse and complex as the dwarves themselves.

Alchemy in Mining

For mining operations, dwarven alchemists brew potent elixirs that, when imbibed, imbue the drinker with temporary night vision to illuminate dark mine shafts, as well as solutions that can be applied to pickaxes to increase the hardness and durability of the tools. Dwarven alchemists also concoct specialized blasting powders with highly controlled explosive yields for precise demolition work to access valuable ore veins.

In the realm of jewelcrafting, these skilled alchemists create abrasive pastes and polishing tinctures that allow jewelers to cut and shape even the hardest gemstones into brilliant facets and intricate designs. They also formulate etching acids that enable jewelers to engrave delicate, finely detailed patterns into precious metals and stones.

In metallurgy practices, dwarven alchemists brew quenching oils that rapidly cool forged metals to achieve optimal hardness and strength. Additionally, they produce flux powders that, when mixed into molten alloys, purify the metals and remove impurities and slag to yield higher quality materials.

Industrial Alchemy

After the gnomes of Gnomeregan began to trade knowledge with the dwarves of Ironforge, the dwarves harnessed the power of alchemy to fuel their industrial revolution.

One critical application is in the production of advanced hydraulic fluids. These specially engineered liquids, imbued with arcane properties, allow for the smooth operation of the massive hydraulic systems that power the city's gargantuan machinery, from the great forges to subterranean ore extractors.

Dwarven alchemists have also unlocked the secrets of combustible fuels, devising alchemical mixtures with unparalleled energy density. These fuels drive the pistons and turbines of Ironforge's industrial heart, providing an abundant source of power for manufacturing, transportation, and defense.

The integration of alchemy into dwarven engineering has birthed innovations such as self-lubricating gears, rust-resistant alloys, and even self-repairing mechanisms through the incorporation of living alchemical compounds. The marriage of alchemy and industry has propelled Ironforge to new heights of productivity and prosperity, solidifying Ironforge's status as a titan of innovation and progress in a world of magic and wonder.

[lboogie1906]

Jean-Baptiste Lislet Geoffroy (known as Geoffrey L’Islet) (August 23, 1755 – February 8, 1836) was a French astronomer, botanist, and cartographer.

L he was born in Saint-Pierre, Réunion. He was the son of Jean-Baptiste Geoffroy a white, French engineer working in Mauritius, and Niama, an enslaved Senegalese princess. His father had freed his mother to ensure his son was not born enslaved. He worked in geology, showing that the shoal, Isle Plate around Mauritius was formed by the debris of the crater of a volcano.

He was the uncle of abolitionist novelist Louis Timagène Houat. He married and had two children. His wife died in 1804.

At age 15, he entered the engineer corps and moved to Mauritius where he worked and studied astronomy and mathematics under Bernard Boudin de Tromelin, known as le Chevalier de Tromelin. When the Anglo-French War began, he was made assistant pilot, serving with de Tromelin. He became a draughtsman to the engineers of the Isle de France.

He was appointed to map Mauritius, and his success in the project earned him a commission as a Geographical Engineer. Avoiding the reign of terror, he was commissioned in 1794 to visit and chart Seychelles, and his success there earned him the promotion to assistant officer in the body of military engineers. When Captain-General Charles Mathieu Isidore Decaen took charge of Mauritius, he was promoted to captain, and when Isle de France was captured, he became chief of the commission for the inspection of the island.

He was elected to the French Academy of Sciences. The academy was dissolved during the French Revolution, and he was not among those reinstated when it was reformed in 1793. Unable to return to France, he founded the Société des Sciences et Arts de l��Ile de France. He was the only man of color to have been a member of the academy.

Among his many works was a map of the Isles of France and Reunion published first in 1797 and second in a corrected version in 1802. He published a chart of Seychelles and a map of Madagascar. He made a voyage to Madagascar, and his account of the voyage was published in Malte-Bruns Annales de Voyages. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence

[bpod-bpod]

Concentrating in Corners

Computer modelling and cellular studies reveal the interplay between key regulatory molecule WNT9b and geometric effects to shape the branching ductal tissue of the developing kidney

Read the published research article here

Image from work by Malte Mederacke and Lisa Conrad and colleagues

Department of Biosystems Science and Engineering, ETH Zürich, Basel, Switzerland

Image originally published with a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)

Published in bioRxiv, November 2023 (not peer reviewed)

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