#useable outside | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mrpenguinpants · 7 months ago

Text

Ttorschlusspanik [ Commissioned ]

[ Hcs for Dottore where the reader is very sleepy/sleep-deprived and is constantly falling asleep in battle, on dates, or maybe during research and experiments! ]

Word Count: 4k

Ayato Ver: Pale Blue Slumber Semi Part 1: Low Battery Warning [Masterlist]

Thank you so much for commissioning me! You’re so sweet, and I truly appreciate the tip, but I can’t accept this level of generosity. Please let me know if I went under the word count. Also, thank you for your patience—I got really sick this week and am still recovering.

Torshlosspanik. noun. 1. A desperate feeling that something desired is fading, missing, or being taken away. 2. A feeling of frustration when something one has is departing.

A slumbering figure, a nearly empty desk, and foreboding fabric are the greeting signs to the infamous lab. It’s ironic, really. The concept that the Doctor’s domain comes with a “receptionist” setup stationed in front of imposing steel doors, giving the illusion that this place is as normal—and as morally sound—as any other doctor’s office. At best, it’s laughable to think anyone would believe this place accepts patients willingly, let alone frequently enough to require check-ins. Yet, a shabby but sturdy wooden desk stands innocently in the corner of the entrance, its chipping edges lined with plastic chrysanthemums and white lilies. The artificial flowers are faded, their colors dull from years of neglect, as if mocking the very notion of hospitality. Behind the desk sits an equally worn-down office chair, large enough for someone to curl up in. Its fabric is stained and frayed from years of misuse, the cushion lumpy and barely holding its shape but still useable. All for a receptionist, if you can call them that, who spends more time asleep than actually working as an employee in this most unlikely place. Legs curled up on the seat, arms crisscrossed over the knees in a fetal position. A chin tucked towards the chest, hidden from the view of passersby. Back facing toward prying eyes, leaving only the pronounced slouch of their spine visible, an angle practically begging to develop scoliosis. But the most harrowing detail isn’t the position. It’s the unmistakable black-and-white fur coat draped over them like a blanket, the fabric’s presence carrying an air of authority and fear. A coat only gifted to the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. The desk itself is of no help either. There’s no clipboard, no pens, no paper-nothing that could even remotely resemble the tools of an actual receptionist. It’s an empty stage prop, barely held together by the weight of its own absurdity. And yet, for all its flaws, it stands as the gateway to a place no one in their right mind would willingly step into.

No one dares attempt to wake you. Successfully doing so is practically a death sentence, especially if you go whining to Dottore about the unprompted “alarm clock.” He has a reputation for ensuring the offender never makes a sound again. The only ones bold enough to try and emerge unscathed are his fellow Harbingers, though even they tread lightly when it comes to disturbing your slumber. It’s both impressive and deeply concerning how much of a deep sleeper you are. The bustling footsteps of agents pacing outside the lab, their sharp voices discussing assignments, don’t stir you. The deafening clangs of machinery, coupled with the revolting squelches of severed monster parts being dissected, fail to trigger even a flicker of awareness. Not even Tartaglia’s incessant yammering, loud enough to make glass shudder, elicits so much as an irritated swat from you. Instead, you remain in a state of unyielding sleep, utterly detached from the chaos around you. Your peculiar habit has become such a fixture in the lab that the staff barely remember you exist. You sit perched at their entrance and exit, as still and silent as a gargoyle guarding a forgotten ruin. To them, you are little more than part of the backdrop. A slumbering figure whose presence is a curious mix of ominous and benign.

While it's obvious that the answer to rousing you is to find Dottore himself, or one of his segments if he isn’t around, the interesting part is how you wake up. You're not immune to the initial dizziness that comes with awakening. When you finally open your eyes, blinking the sleep away from your eyelashes, you’re always disoriented. Your eyes feel glazed over, as though you’ve gone blind from keeping them closed too long. Yet, there’s always a common theme: you always reach out toward the nearest blue object. Whether it's an odd trinket or a test tube of acidic liquid, your hand automatically tries to grab it and pull it close to you. It’s part of the reason your desk is stationed outside the lab, away from anything potentially dangerous hidden behind heavy steel doors. Artificial blue has been on the rise lately. Luckily, in nature, blue is very rare. Less than one in ten plants has blue flowers, and even fewer animals are blue. Unfortunately, the biggest nuisance has blue eyes—dead as they are. Tartaglia may not like the doctor, but he does like you. Maybe it’s because your sleep demeanor can be categorized as cute, or maybe you remind him of the simple life in an organization that’s so uptight. Regardless, that little fox has been clawing at the wooden legs yapping for attention. It's only made worse you don't bother to dissuade him, only indulging in his playful antics. It's led to many, many, lectures from one particular segment.

It's fascinating watching how each segment interacts with your sleepy demeanor. While each segment has varying features and appearances, under the same clothes and mask, they would be indistinguishable if they stood still and never spoke. The only true way to discern them is through their actions and mental processes. Hence, it's easy to tell who is who by the way they go about holding you.

Omega is by far the least attentive or affectionate toward you. Perhaps it’s because he’s the most selfish of them all. There’s still an ongoing debate over whether his dislike for you stems from the fact that you stand in the way of fulfilling his desires or if his ambitions extend beyond simply overtaking the divine gaze. Or perhaps the divine gaze isn't actually his goal in the first place. Either way, it’s two sides of the same coin. When it’s Omega’s turn to fetch you, he does so as if you were any other patient. Completely beneath him. One arm rests behind his back, while the other holds a piece of paper clenched tightly in his hand. His mouth is set in a firm line as he gazes down at your slumped form. Although the air around him is calm and silent, it doesn’t take a genius to know that if he could get away with it, he’d drag you through the halls by your hair. Alas, that kind of act would get him permanently disassembled, so he settles for unceremoniously flipping you upright. The arm resting on the small of his back is removed and curls under your stomach. With one swift motion, you’re treated like one of Signora’s shopping bags. The sight of a limp body folded in half under an arm that surely digs into the stomach is the best way to know if it’s the Omega segment or not.

Beta, on the other hand. Beta. That maniacal and neurotic freak adores you but couldn’t care less about you. His research typically focuses on fusing humans with machinery to create “better versions” of themselves, and he fully believes in that philosophy. You would look so much better if he were allowed to be your sole care provider. If your drowsiness were caused by a medical condition like heart disease, asthma, pain, or a nerve condition, he could simply replace them, and you’d be perfect. If it were a mental issue, well, he’d love you no matter how unresponsive you might be. It wouldn’t be much different from you being asleep anyway. When it’s Beta’s turn to fetch you, he does so with a waltz. He walks purposefully toward your desk. Loud and firm, his hands fisted at his sides with unrestrained glee, swinging in time with each step. Even with a mask that obscures most of his face, it’s clear to see the overexcited grin stretching across his lips. It’s almost like there’s static buzzing in time with his artificial heart, fuzzy yet electrically sharp. There’s no fanfare, as soon as he’s within arm’s reach, he grabs the nearest piece of skin and hauls you out of the chair. By some miracle, you’re always still asleep from the rough handling, which is more than enough for Beta to wrap his other arm around your waist. Your chests press together, and he swings your body to and fro in his mad dance. The sight of a limp body dragged into a dancing plague that’s surely pulling your stiff joints out of place is the best way to know if it’s Beta or not. Beta has been recently banned from coming within a six-foot radius around you.

The original Dottore, Zandik, is a unique case. All of the segments originated from him but at different points in time. However, they are still parts of his thoughts and mannerisms. There really is no order in which the segments are ranked, as they can’t compete with each other. What’s more pointless than trying to beat yourself? You’ll still lose in the end. Zandik is a strange mix of every segment yet none at all. When he wants to see you, he does so slowly, with all the time in the world. His methodical steps echo lightly on the concrete floors of the lab, his arms still at his sides yet loose enough that the slightest wind could blow them away. It’s as eerie as it is tranquil. Everything about the original whispers of restrained patience—that when he arrives at the front of your desk, he simply waits. Usually, it takes you hours or even days to wake up on your own, but when it’s Zandik standing at the edge of your daydream, your eyes slide open. Small ripples in the pond. You’re still lethargic, blindly feeling your way back into your body as your eyes ricochet off the walls until they land on blue. A weighted hand reaches out to grab that ashy blue, and another hand meets your fingertips.

It would be cute if it were anyone else. The sight of a man with curly light blue hair, carrying a bundled-up figure dressed in a white coat with a fluffy black collar, legs dangling from either side of his waist while his hands rest on the lump’s presumed back and thighs. It would be so cute indeed, if it were anyone else but Zandik. But for him, it only looks lonely, despite the two of you pressed together.

The moments when you're awake only happen on two occasions: either you just happened to wake up at that time, or it’s check-up day. What kind of doctor would Dottore be if he didn’t conduct physicals for his only patient who manages to live long enough each year? The check-ups happen twice a week, always two days apart. Never past two days of separation. Ever. Your exact relationship dynamic with Dottore remains as obscure as ever as to why he cares so much. Whether you’re old friends who knew each other before Dottore set foot in Snezhnaya or even when Dottore was called a different name. Or maybe a dead lover resurrected as a zombie in the pursuit of selfish greed and glorious progress; both are possible options. The zombie theory at least explains why you’re constantly drowsy. The staff have never seen you eat anything before, and with the abundance of... zombie food, it's not outlandish as much as it is disgusting. The old friend theory would explain why you can stomach being around someone who can fly off the handle at any moment. The most willing yet unwilling patient. No matter how often Dottore has to wrestle you upright, only for you to slump back asleep the next second, he never loses his temper. If he has to strap you into a straitjacket and hang you from the goddamn ceiling to keep you sitting with a straight back, he will. But by no means will he get anything more than slightly miffed. If he has to force-feed you your medicine because you’re too loopy to remember how to swallow, he’ll shove his fingers into the back of your throat with nothing but a blank smile. The only good thing about your sleep-deprived state is that you’re probably so out of it that you can’t feel discomfort. It saves on using the limited supply of anesthesia the lab carries.

Dottore, for lack of a better word, is displeased with your constant need for sleep. He is deeply frustrated with each check-in and the stagnation of your results. For him, bad results are no different from good ones—they’re still a means of moving forward. Something that will tell him which direction to take rather than wandering around aimlessly in the dark. But in your case, there are no significant changes, as if everything he’s done has been for nothing. He could have closed his eyes and spun a wheel for the same results. The day before your check-in is always the calm before the storm because the staff knows that when the next day comes, they’d better keep their heads down or risk losing them. No one is quite sure if your sleepiness stems from mutated genetics or if it’s a side effect of being around Dottore for too long. Stir-craziness and breakdowns are common in the lab, whether among "patients" or "employees." Everyone eventually goes mad, cooped up within the same cell-shaded walls and working under possibly the worst boss imaginable. Add to that the fact that the Fatui don’t believe in “mental health” days, and with no coping mechanisms in sight, it’s unfair to expect anyone to function effectively. Most people eventually devolve into screaming or manic episodes. Perhaps your escape is more literal. A peaceful retreat from reality through sleep. You’re not even sure why you’re constantly sleep-deprived, especially when you spend more time slumbering than awake. At first, you thought you might be narcoleptic or taking the wrong pills; a diagnosis from scratch must take a long time, right? That was until Dottore bluntly called you an idiot. He told you it’s a bad habit to self-diagnose every minor inconvenience. You should let him do all the thinking and simply listen to him. And truthfully, with the haze clouding your mind, it’s too difficult to think clearly anyway. So, you nod and do as you’re told. It’s easier that way.

It doesn’t happen often, but it occurs more than it should, considering who Dottore is and the reputation he holds. If you wish to cross him, you’d better make it count—because it’ll be your last. He’s in the middle of a meeting with Pantalone, arguing over the lab’s finances when a frantic knock interrupts. Apparently, there’s been a scuffle at the entrance of the lab. To Pantalone's knowledge, there aren't any guards or any agents stationed at the doors except for that sleepy receptionist. Perhaps the doctor's staff finally had enough and decided to take their anger on someone who couldn't fight back? Pantalone's not a good enough person to not find amusement in the situation, infinitely curious as to what Dottore's reaction will be to all of this. Whatever the banker decided to gamble on, his expression doesn't twitch as he follows behind his fellow Harbinger as they walk leisurely through the halls, as if the world has come to a standstill. It’s almost amusing that when your life is potentially on the line, he suddenly decides to take a midday stroll. The only indication of his amusement is the slight shake in his shoulders, hinting at a silent laugh. Dottore punches in the lock code and throws open the steel doors before the automatic switch can activate, slipping through as soon as the gap is wide enough. He stops at the shabby wooden desk that’s now gained a few new dents.

This time, you’re curled up on top of the table, your office chair thrown across the room. Broken. It’s no matter, he’s been meaning to replace it anyway. The chair is just another expense to add to his name. He collects you into his arms effortlessly, and you instinctively sink into the familiar hold. A quick scan from head to toe confirms that you’re unharmed, save for a few strands of hair out of place. Behind him, Pantalone lets out a noise of approval as he surveys the scene. In the center of the room stands a robot with a striking design. A star-shaped frame with six triangular segments forms a perfect symmetry. Glowing cyan cores illuminate the metallic structure, positioned at its center and edges. The intricate details combine sharp, crystalline elements with mechanical precision, radiating an aura of both elegance and menace. As expected of the Doctor. Pantalone can’t help but wonder where this machine was hiding when Signora ventured to Inazuma. Perhaps if it had been deployed then, she might have returned in one piece.

Although Dottore no longer needs to sleep to survive, there are times when, as he passes by your sleeping form, he’ll pause. He stands still, staring for what feels like an absurd amount of time, meticulously detailing and recording every breath you take within a single minute. It’s always 17. Sleep occupies about one-third of a person’s life, a significant portion of time that, in Dottore's mind, could be devoted to something useful. Something productive, instead of wasting it frolicking in dreams that neither matter nor will change anything. Yet, even he can’t deny that, occasionally, a break from reality can serve as a fragile bandage over a wound that refuses to heal. A fleeting comfort in an otherwise relentless existence.

It’s as awkward as it is unnatural. Despite his title as "The Doctor", his hands weren’t designed for gentle touches of flesh and bone. Yet he tries. His fingers twitch involuntarily as he tilts your body to the side, just enough for him to slide in beside you. Carefully, he rests your body against his shoulder. He expects you to jolt awake, his shoulder is bony and hardly a suitable place to rest your head, even when compared to the flaky cushion of the office chair you’ve somehow grown fond of. But you don’t. Of course, you don’t. You simply lay there, your head nestled against his shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world. No protests, no shifting away, just stillness. The transfer of heat begins, as described by the laws of thermodynamics. Hotter, faster-moving molecules collide with cooler, slower ones, transferring energy in a quiet exchange. No fireworks, no blaring alarms, just the science of touch, as mundane and profound as ever. Zandik dares to lower his chin, letting it rest lightly against your head. His mask doesn’t obscure the quiet moment, though he can feel the unnatural curve of his lips twitching upward ever so slightly. Down here, in the deepest layers of the lab, not even the howling winds of Tsaritsa’s snowstorm can reach. It’s eerily quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of your breathing. For a moment, he wonders what it would be like if you woke up now. If your half-lidded eyes would squint at him in confusion, or if you’d simply close them again, surrendering to the haze of sleep. But you don’t stir. Instead, he lets himself linger, suspended between an unusual warmth and the cold detachment of his own thoughts

"Breaks" are not something you can indulge in down in the labs. The closest the staff ever got was when one of the Harbingers passed away, and even then, it lasted only half a day before they were right back to work. Still, if you ask nicely, Dottore will nod toward an empty seat, silently giving you permission to make yourself comfortable. You take the opportunity to describe the dreams you’ve had while Dottore tinkers away in the background. You talk about a train whose tracks stretch far into the stars, far beyond the snow-obscured sky you glimpse through the scarce, frosted windows scattered about the lab. Sometimes, you dream of a whimsical city filled with cute shops and tiny bunny-like robots waddling through fissures in space. You’re certain he isn’t really paying attention, his hands busy with instruments, and his focus locked on his latest project. Sometimes, you suspect he forgets you’re even in the room despite your rambling. A small part of you wants to stamp your feet and pout like a child. After all, you’re only awake for a few fleeting hours each week, and even then, all he can think about is his experiments. His endless, obsessive tinkering. The man’s only "hobby" is experimentation, and you wonder if he’s even capable of entertaining anything else. At least Omega and Beta would give you some attention. Omega might tell you to be quiet with that dismissive tone of his, while Beta would enthusiastically scribble down every word you say, his excitement unnerving yet oddly gratifying. Still… your gaze drifts toward Zandik’s back as he works, the muscles beneath his coat shifting subtly with each precise movement. You pull your knees up against your chest, wrapping your arms around them as you rest your cheek against your folded arms. For a moment, you simply watch him in silence, the quiet hum of the lab filling the space between you. Eventually, your eyes grow heavy, and you let them slip shut. A faint smile tugs at your lips as you wonder where your dreams will take you this time. You wonder if Zandik would come with you.

On the rare occasion that Dottore chooses to sleep of his own will, most likely due to substances that induce drowsiness and force his body into a state of rest, it’s always a remarkably uneventful night. He doesn’t dream anymore, nor does he wish to. Dreams, like the past, serve no purpose to him now. On certain days, if he concentrates hard enough, he can faintly discern whispers from the other segments he's created. However, they are nothing more than distractions, a cacophony that only aggravates his already meticulous mind. When he wakes, it’s as though he hasn’t truly slept at all. His eyelids parted smoothly, his pupils sharp and alert as if no time had passed. Yet there is an unusual sensation, warmth. Dottore does not run warm, and the lab, built for functionality rather than comfort, certainly doesn’t harbor it either. He turns his head, curiosity fleeting, and finds you huddled against his side. Your arms are wrapped around his waist in a loose embrace, and your face is pressed against his chest, seeking solace in his stillness. The white coat with its black feathered collar, the one you wear more often than he does, is draped across your body, serving as a makeshift blanket. His hands remain clasped on his stomach, and he realizes with mild irritation that he can’t move without risking the possibility of waking you. For a moment, he lingers. The seconds on, and his mind races ahead to the tasks awaiting him. The pursuit of progress waits for no one, not even himself. Every moment spent lying in this bed feels like a year’s worth of lost discovery.

With calculated precision, he shifts. His movements are methodical, almost robotic, as he carefully bundles you in the coat, ensuring the hood doesn’t cover your face and obstruct your breathing. In a single fluid motion, he lifts you into his arms as he rises from the bed. He spares a brief glance at your sleeping form, red eyes devoid of emotion. Your breathing is steady at 17 breaths per minute—a rhythm he has memorized and measured countless times before. Still as serene as ever. But then, for just the faintest of moments, his gaze softens, almost imperceptibly, before he turns his attention back to the work that never ceases to call for him. What a peaceful way to escape the world, the thought as cold and clinical as his expression.

---

Hi, thank you for reading! I'll reblog this with further writer notes but I wanted to include the research bits in order of appearance. I can't guarantee the full accuracy but I hope I didn't get anything wrong.

Chrysanthemum & Lily

In many Asian cultures, especially in China and Japan, chrysanthemums are symbolic of death and mourning. In China, the flower is closely linked to the Day of the Dead, and in Japan, it is used in funeral rites. While in some contexts chrysanthemums can symbolize longevity or fidelity, their association with death makes them unlucky in certain circumstances, especially when given as gifts or during celebrations.

Lilies, especially white lilies, are often associated with death and mourning, particularly in Christian symbolism, where they are linked to funerals and burials. While lilies also symbolize purity and rebirth in other contexts, their frequent appearance in funeral arrangements.

Head-Down Position

The sleep position reader takes is a parody of the Head-Down position of babies in their third trimester. The head-down position (cephalic presentation) is the most common and ideal position for birth, where the baby’s head is facing downward, towards the birth canal. This allows the baby to navigate the birth process more easily.

Dancing Plague

Also called the Dancing Mania, this refers to a series of events in the 16th century where groups of people, primarily in Europe, suddenly and uncontrollably began dancing for extended periods, sometimes for days or weeks, often to the point of exhaustion, injury, or even death. The most infamous and well-documented outbreak of the Dancing Plague occurred in 1518 in Strasbourg, then part of the Holy Roman Empire (modern-day France).

Algorithm of Semi-Intransient Matrix of Overseer Network

The robot Pantalone sees is the early concept art for ^ but also known as the "Tomb Guard of the Desert King.".

The number 17 is considered unlucky in Italy because of its association with the Latin word for 17, which is "XVII". Rearranging these Roman numerals gives the word "VIXI", which means "I have lived" or "I am dead" in Latin. This gives the number an ominous connotation, as it can be seen as a symbol of death or misfortune.

Honkai Star Rail & Zenless Zone Zero

Yes, reader was describing these two games as their dreams lol.

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin dottore x reader #genshin impact dottore x reader #dottore x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin impact headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin impact imagine #genshin dottore #genshin impact dottore #dottore #il dottore #dottore headcanons #commission

225 notes · View notes

songofsaraneth · 3 months ago

Text

a zine about some of the plants i compulsively snack on whenever i wander past them. random leaves you find outside: put them in your mouth and see!!!

since this is a simple format zine, I've included a printable version of the US letter sized scan/jpg. I usually pick a pretty cardstock to make covers for this one, but I threw in a quick front/back cover so it's useable as-is. Feel free to print your own copy--or better yet, go outside and eat some leaves and rank them, and send it to me so I can see!

#i really need a 16page version of this one to cover more kinds of leaf #ramblings #my stuff #my zines #zines #you can eat it #i started a companion waters ive drink outside zine but have not finished yet..

82 notes · View notes

marcusdoodlesalot · 14 days ago

Text

Okay. OKAY. I need to talk about this.

So many people do NOT know how to take care of high maintenance kitchenware and I need to talk about it.

What do I mean by high maintenance kitchenware? I mean anything that needs to be one: hand washed and two: have some sort of maintenance done outside of washing for it to last and be useable.

Three items always fall into this category: cast iron, wooden utensils/cutting boards, and kitchen knives.

Cast Iron:

You will not believe the amount of times I’ve had a conversation like this:

Me: I love my cast iron skillet.

Someone: oh, I had one once but it rusted instantly.

Me: oh? Odd. How did you wash and store it?

Someone: oh, I put it in the dishwasher.

Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT put cast iron in the dishwasher!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Why? Two HUGE reasons.

1.) It is non-coated iron that has been formed in a cast, as the name suggests. Because it is NON-COATED, any exposure to moisture can and WILL make it rust like crazy. And if rusts so bad and for so long it starts to PIT? Good luck. You have to take an angle grinder to get it smooth enough to cook on again. You need your surface to be mostly smooth so your food doesn’t stick while cooking AND to minimize the chance for bacteria to grow. This is the same reason why plastic cookware needs to be replaced OFTEN, especially after it is damaged.

2.) Dishwashers, especially modern day dishwasher, do a GREAT job at getting food residue and oil off of your dishes. Why is this a problem? Because to help prevent your cast iron from rusting from any residual moisture in the air and to season it to keep food from sticking you need to oil it. You also have to build up seasoning layer by layer every time you use it, and putting it in the dishwasher can CHIP OFF YOUR SEASONING.

So how do you take care of your cast iron anyways?

After you use your cast iron, yes, DIRECTLY after you use it, you need to clean it. For less messy meals, wiping it clean with a dry, LINT FREE paper towel is fine. For messier meals you need to bring it over to your sink and rinse it under HOT WATER, not cold, cold can cause your pan to crack, use HOT WATER until it cools down enough for you to handle it.

Once it is cool enough to handle, go ahead and use a washcloth to gently scrub any residue off. Some people say it’s fine to use dish soap but I don’t recommend it, it can damage the seasoning.

Okay, it’s clean now. So now you need to bring your skillet, pan, griddle, whatever back to the stove and put it on a burner and turn that up to high. You need ALL the water to dry up off of it and NOW. Why? Remember that thing about moisture? Yeah, letting cast iron sit for any length of time wet can make it rust. Let all the water dry up.

Next you need to turn off the stove and put a small amount of neutral oil into it, anything that it good for high heat. Do NOT put extra virgin olive oil, butter, or any oil that can burn easily into it to season, not only will it not be effective, the burn taste will linger. I recommend using a neutral seed oil like grape seed, but I’ve know people who like to use vegetable oil or even bacon grease to season theirs, but I always use grape seed. Things like tallow and lard have a tendency to go rancid, so if you chose to use that, make sure you check for rancidness before cooking with it again.

Once you have the oil in, use a LINT FREE (it is so important you use lint free because you do NOT want to be cooking your food on paper, I PROMISE) paper towel and spread it all around the inside of your pan. It needs to be a thin layer. Once it’s spread, take your pan off the burner and let it cool before putting it away somewhere dry.

But wait, you just bought a cast iron/ need to just completely reseason it because something happened to it? Do not worry, I know what to do.

Preheat your oven to 350 F (~175 C) with your top rack place in the middle and your other rack placed at the bottom.

Next thing you’re going to do is wash your pan. This is the only time I would recommend washing your cast iron with dish soap, and you need to SCRUB it. If you are reasoning, scrubbing with steel wool is the way to go but if it’s just new and needs to be seasoned, then a dish sponge will do fine.

If you have some light surface rust, I recommend pouring some course salt into pan and rubbing it with a paper towel. It actually does an INCREDIBLE job at getting rust up!

After that you need to dry it on the stove (bone dry once again) and let it cool.

Once it is cool, take a lint free paper towel and spread a SUPER THIN amount of oil ALL OVER it, cooking surface, handle, bottom, sides, ALL OVER. And I mean THIN. You need probably only about a teaspoon at MOST of oil total, and even sometimes THATS pushing it. Another thing you can use is vegetable shortening, I find that it’s personally very easy to achieve a thin, even coating of oil with it.

Then you’re going to put it in the oven, cooking side DOWN and a baking sheet under it to catch any oil that might drip off. You’re gonna let it sit in there for around three hours, really letting that oil bake. Once the time is up, turn off your oven and let it cool in there.

Once cool, I recommend using a super small amount of oil and just lightly oiling it again just for rust safety.

And there you have it! A seasoned, well maintained cast iron skillet/pan/pot/griddle/whatever.

Wooden Utensils/Cutting Boards:

Oh yes, these guys are high maintenance, too.

But WHY can’t you put them in the dishwasher???

Well, have you even keep a piece of wood under water? What happens to it?

That’s right, it expands and CRACKS.

That’s what happens when you put your wooden tools in the dishwasher OR let them soak. The cracking allows bacteria to THRIVE and can get food stuck in there and cause it to ROT. Always, ALWAYS hand wash your wooden tools and NEVER let them soak.

But what about that maintenance outside of washing?

Well, like cast iron, wood cutting board and utensils need to be seasoned with oil. Unlike cast iron though, you can use soap to wash your wooden tools.

So how to you season these guys? Well, it’s actually a lot simpler than cast iron, thank GOD, am I right?

First you need to wash your utensils well and then let them COMPLETELY dry, any moisture still left in the wood will seal into it if you do not let it dry and will cause the wood to expand and crack. A simple way of figuring out if it’s dry or not is by touching it. If it’s cool to the touch, it is not dry yet. If it’s room temp then perfect! It’s dry.

Now it’s time to oil them. I’ve seen people cooking oil to season it all the time, but I do not recommend it due to the fact seed oil can and WILL go rancid as well. I recommend using food grade mineral oil, as it neutral in flavor and doesn’t go rancid.

Oiling it is simple. You’re going to take a cloth and spread oil all over the utensil or cutting board and let it sit for 5 to 10 minutes. Then, you’re going to take another cloth and wipe away any excess oil. If it’s your first time oiling it, repeat this process three to five times.

Now you only need to oil it every month or two or when it’s starting to look like it might need some TLC! Hooray!!!

NOTE: if your wooden tools are looking worse for wear or have dents/cracks it them, it’s time to replace them. There is no saving them. Throw them out and get new ones.

Kitchen Knives:

Yeah, this one might be a shocker, but putting your knife in the dishwasher can absolutely damage it.

How does it damage it? The high heat and the movement can cause your blade to dull, dent, and even break in some cases. Not to mention, the heat can make a plastic handle crack and the water can make a wooden one do the same.

Washing your knife is so easy, just be CAREFUL to not cut yourself. Use a sponges and wipe your knife from the back to clean it, and then dry it on a cloth instantly. I like using a sleeve to keep it clean in the drawer but if you don’t have one/ Don’t keep it in a drawer, than don’t worry about it.

Of course the outside maintenance is sharpening your knife.

The best way to do it is with a wet stone, though those are often expensive and if you’re just a home cook, you don’t need to do it like that. If you want it really sharp but don’t want to spend the money on a wet stone, you can take it to get professionally sharpened, but I wouldn’t recommend doing that with a cheep, five dollar knife. If you want to, though, more power to you.

For the most part, all you’re going to need is a honing rod. You know, that weird metal rod you always see the tv chefs using to sharpen their knifes dramatically!

To sharpen your knife, place your blade starting at the point closest to the handle at the bottom of the honing knife, keeping it at a steep angle or the angle the edge of your knife (the actually sharp part of your knife). You’re going to apply even pressure, not too much or too little, and keeping you knife at that angle the entire time, drag your knife down the rod, slowly moving the entire blade across it, following the curve of your knife.

Next, bring the knife UNDER the honing rod and do the same to the other side. Go back and forth doing this multiple times until it has been sharpened, making sure to apply even pressure and keep your knife at a consistent angle. Once you get use to the action you can start to speed up and look really cool like the TV chefs.

NOTE: when sharpening or handling the knife, NEVER point or cut the blade towards you. If handing someone a knife, never offer it blade first, turn the knife with the blade faced down and handle out to the person you are passing it to.

Why is it important to keep a knife sharp? Easy, a sharp knife is a safe knife. What do I mean by that? With a dull knife, you don’t always know if it will cut through the thing you are trying to cut or it will randomly stop, a dull knife is predictable and can cause the item your cutting to be uneven or possibly cut YOU. And that’s not a clean cut, and those hurt the WORST. A sharp knife, on the other hand, it’s easy to figure out what direction it’s going to go while cutting, and that direction is through.

Anyways, I hope this is informative to everyone and if I made a mistake, feel free to go ahead and correct me, BE NICE ABOUT IT TOO. I’m only human, and just because I’m behind a screen doesn’t mean I don’t get hurt. But yes, please people, high maintenance cookware needs to be properly maintained for it to be used for as long as possible, and sometimes that means for generations. Happy cooking!

#Marcus barks #kitchen #kitchen utensil #kitchen utensil maintenance #can you tell I’m passionate about this

50 notes · View notes

hometoursandotherstuff · 8 months ago

Text

I don't usually like barn houses, but this one is pretty cool and the price is right. It's a 1985 barn style home in Long Prairie, MN, 3bds, 4ba, reduced $19k to $275,900.

It's got several different vibes going- industrial farmhouse, rustic, modern and castle. The layout is unusual, too.

I like the red cabinets and the brick stove enclosure.

Look at the fridge. Stick-on auto shop vibes.

I feel like the dining room is lacking something. It's a good size, but the table and chairs don't do much for it.

There's a desk area here. That's interesting.

Now, here the stairs give an industrial vibe, while the toilet looks like a castle. A lot going on in this house.

I wonder if it was actually designed and built like this, or if it was changed here and there, along the way.

This sunken area is a little play room. If you didn't have small children, what else could it be, b/c it's right outside the bathroom.

Then, here the playroom continues and there's a mural with a climbing wall.

Nice big enclosed porch.

Upstairs, there's a corrugated wall and look at the stairs. I see a chain and very interesting roof lines in the ceiling, too. I think that I would change the netting on the stairs, though.

Large family room area.

This is nice. I wonder if that's a room up there by the open window.

A nook for the laundry.

Large bedroom. I wonder if that's useable space in the loft.

Modular bath- not my favorite.

Bd. #2 has a built-in desk/storage unit.

Interesting home. It's so open.

There's a terrace out here, and that must be a garage. You can walk out onto the storage shed.

Apparently, there's a turret room, too.

This looks like a dirt floor space under the house. .30 acre lot.

#barn homes #rustic homes #unusual homes #houses #house tours #home tur #homes under $300k

133 notes · View notes

kalpeavaris · 8 months ago

Note

Totally for unrelated reasons, what are some more facts about communication drones? Like uhhh specific anatomy ect?

Prepare to get spammed with information! 👀

Communication Drones Infopost

Communication Drones (calling them CDs for short here) are a sub-type of Worker Drones fitted with antenna and special storage systems meant to analyze, store and transcrypt incoming and outgoing signals between Outposts, (human) landing pods and machinery.

CDs can also communicate with each other & Workers around them in a certain range which allows them to be very effective in sending out orders en masse to other Drones.

(more below the cut for their anatomy, specialities and more!)

Most CDs have two to four antennas fixiated to their head which are directly connected to their auditory entrance (or well, 'ears' as we would call it in human terms) which makes their antennas vital for their work and general hearing. Damaged or removed antennas may result in a CD losing their ability to hear or at least reduce it greatly.

Depending on the size of the antennas it's easy to see what purpose the CD served - long antennas are usually paired with long-range signals which put the individuals at use to distribute orders, arrange communication between ships & pods on their way to other exoplanets (when humans were still around) and to manage incoming signals from other planets & stations/outposts.

Short antennas usually indicated a more localized position for the drone in question - mainly within a singular Outpost or in ships to work directly connected to the local machinery and computers, sending orders in smaller ranged areas and storing security data.

Most CDs have secondary enhancers which work similar to a short-range antenna allowing them to switch between long and short range at will (mainly used for CDs that had flexible working places between ground & flight).

Generally, the antennas also function as "mood indicator". They can rotate around themselves and change position dependant on a fixed motion range around the head - similar to how e.g animals use their ears to indicate mood, CDs quickly took these habits from dogs that were around Copper-9 and video material of animals and copied them. Not all CDs did or do that, but alot of them do. For example if an individual is excited/attentive, the antennas would stick right up. If they're overwhelmed/annoyed/angry they'd usually be lowered down or pressed against the sides of the head.

They were expected to be very attentive and pay close attention to details. Their inner storage was designed to hold literal months and even years of auditory data that they recieved which was usually extracted every 4-6 months via the ports on their back which connected directly to the storage. Without these "clear outs" most CDs experience involuntary deletion of audio files which is out of their control and might result in them forgetting things they've heard/analyzed before.

Other than those two features their anatomy is fairly similar to that of normal Workers, height etc. as well.

After the humans disappearance alot of CDs lost their use as there... well, were no orders to share and no signals to analyze. Some of them struggled with this loss of "useability", some were fairly happy about this.

Lost/destroyed antennas cannot be restored by themselves (well, unless a CD is a Solver User like Kira) and CDs usually do not take well to losing or damaging antennas. Enhancers aren't as sensitive, but still hurt. Touching them might also cause disruption in hearing for CDs, it would be like someone rang a bell next to a humans ear for them. :'D (no touchie!)

CDs are generally connected to ECHO in the MD: Echo story (outside of that this plot point doesn't matter, just mentioning it here haha). Since Kira was the first CD Echo tried to use as host it developed an interested in them since CDs are great tools to be used for mass-ordering hosts.

Alot of CDs were destroyed while the humans were still around, especially if their warranty expired or they became damaged, to prevent sensitive information (such as orders and analyzed data) from leaking or being stolen by enemy forces/entities.

CDs infected with a Solver usually had enhanced auditory strenghts, capable of sending much stronger signals regardless of their antenna's natural range of reach - and they could also "ping" other Users & Hosts which makes them easy tools of manipulation. Luckily the only known CD which acted as AS Host was Kira who was "patched", so it couldn't spread for now (excluding Echo :'D)

#murder drones #communication drones #md: echo #murder drones: echo #murder drones oc #liti #hena #kylie #murder drones fanart #concept art #info post #md au #murder drones AU #murder drones fandom #my art

104 notes · View notes

brokenpieces-72 · 7 months ago

Note

could we please get a part two for the lion!reader x horangi fic? 🙏🙏

Yes you can. You also get a little treat because why not.

Leo

CoD Hybrid AU | Navigation

Why did you have to be nervous, he was going to bug you about it as soon as he saw you. It was embarrassing enough that you were here. Come on, you’re a lion, buck up. You straighten, and take a deep breath, puffing out your chest. It was just a thank you get together. You had enough money to set proper boundaries and even get your siblings a better situation as well. Horangi had stepped in, and helped you, you owed him at least some food.

“You are up.” A cocky voice said. You looked up and saw a familiar face. Or at least you recognized the voice. Horangi had his neck warmer over his mouth and nose, and wearing glasses. He blended in perfectly with the rest of them, clothed in jackets, gloves and hats. You yourself had your leather jacket on and your scarf. Horangi looked well enough. You swore you could see his cheeky grin even with it covered.

“Did I say I wasn’t?” You asked.

“You said sure I’ll take you for food when we’re in the same neighbourhood.” Horangi pointed out. He wasn’t wrong.

“Any preference or are you at my mercy?” You asked him. Horangi shrugged. He wasn’t a picky eater to begin with. Though you noticed he’s more observant. You offered him your arm and smiled, tugging him along. Your touch seemed to let him relax more as you took him to your favourite restaurant.

Before then König was asking Horangi about you. Of course Spirit got curious as well. Horangi rolled his eyes, assuring you it was just a meeting among two friends, two coworkers.

“Simon and Johnny are coworkers and they do more than just work.” Spirit pointed out. König snickered at the blunt statement.

“Just a friend. Konig can vouch for me.”

“Since when?” Konig asked, with a stupid smile on his face. Horangi had half a mind to shoo both of them away but honestly, you’re one of the nicest things to happen to him.

A big crowded area would make Konig uncomfortable. You know Horangi, and he doesn’t mind crowds. Easier for him to lay low, and avoid people. A small night market was perfect for the occasion. Food stands and booths for you both to try, and plenty of friendly people. Horangi may be out of his element but he was impressed. You were so relaxed. Sure you didn’t have people coming after you for debts, but when last he saw you, you seemed reserved, headstrong and quiet. Yet here you were smiling and messing around at booths selling crafts. Maybe the holidays brought that out of you.

“You could probably take the sunglasses off, I doubt there will be anyone here who wants to collect money from you.” You told him. Horangi was caught off guard by what you said, so it gave you the chance to take off his sunglasses for him. Now you understood why he left them on. There was the remains of a nasty black eye, thankfully healing and useable but enough to make you were. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Horangi asked, trying to turn away and move on. You stared him down, tail whipping from side to side behind you. Horangi made a small growl, as you tugged him forward. He tried to pull away but you pointed out the kids running past behind him. Horangi refused to look at you. You took a quick glance and pulled him aside. He begrudgingly came with you so you could talk more privately finding a small alley.

“What happened?” You repeated. Horangi kept looking down the alley instead of at you. Ugh, of course he had to be such a trope. You took him by the chin and made him face you. “Start… talking.”

You voice could send chills down his spine, while relaxing him at the same time. If anyone would understand it was you. He told you what happened with him and Spirit, and the guilt he felt. “I put a kid in danger, just for going outside. I covered up, and nearly got her killed, and then I messaged you to see if you wanted to go out, and then… I didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

There is a moment of silence between you two as you consider everything he told you. You sighed, annoyed. “Really?”

“What?” Horangi shrugged, still refusing to make eye contact until you crossed your arms.

“You think I can’t take care of myself? I’m not a child.” You told him. “And clearly you know that otherwise you wouldn’t come out with me. If you need a break say the word, and we can find another alley. It’s not like I didn’t come without some defence.”

You gave him a warm smile and held his arm. Horangi wasn’t used to the tender side of you but he had to admit it was kind of hot.

“If I need a break?”

“Say the word.” You told him. “This is my way of saying thank you, and making you uncomfortable is the last thing I want.”

Horangi got this glint in his eye, one you’d seen before, his tail brushing your leg. Your face was turning pink, but you guess it was from the cold air.

“Shall we continue then?” He asked. You gave him a smirk and tugged him back to the market smiling and chatting with him. It was a good night, and it didn’t take long for there to be a light snow fall.

The market is filled with plenty of things to do, it's like a small fair. Kids were enjoying maple syrup on snow, some bean bag toss games, and of course snowballs being thrown. You and Horangi ducked stepped out of the way of a few throws. Then you felt a hard packed one fired at your back. You laughed, but it did kind of hurt.

Horangi looked up and saw it was some adult human. Didn't apologize either just smiled looking smug. He attacked a defenseless person in the back, and he was acting smug. Horangi barked at him, saying something in Korean, but you tugged him away. There was some barked comments about his masculinity and hybrids being dirty animals. You flipped them off continuing your stroll.

"Could've fought back." Horangi grumbled.

"And then there would be a fight, and the kids around would get scared, police would be called, fingers would be pointed and nothing would really get resolved." You told him. "We would give them what they want and get nothing out of it."

Horangi had to admit you had a point. You worked for Kortac as a mercenary but you were getting paid, you were getting what you wanted. Equal exchange. Starting a fight here, there would be nothing but problems. Although he had to ask one thing.

"So when you punched the guy at the convenience store...?" Horangi asked.

"Well he was a pig. Needed to be put in his place." You said, folding your arms. "And he was teasing Konig about his height."

Horangi chuckled. You always had to be the bigger person one way or another. It was attractive. Wait.

Horangi waited just outside a small store front, not wanting to be in the way of the other shoppers while you browsed the tables. The mask was back over his face, but it was more as a neck warmer. It seemed to intimidate a few people, which was fine with him. At least it was less likely for him to be hit with snowball. While he focused on you, everyone seemed to ignore him. Except one.

There was a tug on his jacket, that he at first thought was just the material getting caught on something. He brushed it aside, and then he felt a small hand. When Horangi looked down, he found a young boy staring up at him, and politely saying "Excuse me."

Horangi wasn't really used to kids, it had been a while since he'd seen any of his younger relatives. He raised a brow, and then looked around. Where was the boy's parents? The boy said again, "Excuse me?"

"Uhh... yes?" Horangi replied.

"Are you a hybrid?" The boy asked.

"Yes." Horangi answered. The boy's eyes seemed to widen as he asked what kind of hybrid Horangi was. Horangi knelt down so he could talk to the boy a little easier. It was getting pretty crowded, and he didn't want to kid swept up, though he guessed the boy may already have been based on the absence of a parent. The boy was honestly just curious about Horangi and haetaes, asking what Horangi could do, and what it was like.

When you came back from purchasing a small gift, you found the pleasant sight of Horangi letting the boy touch his tail. You also looked around for the child's guardians as you can over.

"You making friends?" You asked Horangi who looked up with the boy. Before Horangi could answer, the boy spoke up.

"Are you a lion?" He asked. You smiled, answering him. Then it was you getting overloaded with questions. You don't mind, he isn't asking anything rude, and you welcome curiousity. You don't mind him touching your tail either. He's having fun but you are concerned about his safety.

"Are your parents nearby?" You asked. The boy stopped looking at your tail and then looked around. Had he not noticed them missing? There was a worried and panicked look on his face, and Horangi stepped in immediately.

"Hey, it's okay. We'll find them. Do you remember where they were last?" Horangi asked. The boy looked on the brink of tears as he shook his head. You stood up and looked around for a security guard or maybe a volunteer running some of the activities.

"Did they have a spot for you to go if got lost?" You asked. The little boy nodded, sniffling. "Do you want us to take you there?"

The boy nodded again. You took the little one's hand as Horangi stood up, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be looking frantic or worried.

Thankfully as soon as you arrived at the spot the boy led you too, the mother was there, and rushed over to hug her child, checking that he was okay, while the boy was apologizing. The woman thanked you both profusely. Honestly it wasn't a problem at all, he was so polite. You waved good bye to your little friend as the mother took him into the crowd, carrying him.

"Not what I thought this thank you would look like." You said, sitting at a table with some food. Horangi shrugged, taking another bite of food.

"Not the worst reunion I've had." He pointed out. Now was a better time than any. You set the small gift bag on the table.

"Not sure if you celebrate but happy early holidays." You said. Horangi was a bit surpised, staring at the back for a moment, before takin it to opened it up. Inside was a necklace with a symbol cut out of wood. A symbol Horangi recognized, symbolizing luck.

"Not one for superstition, but I figured you could use all you could get." You said. Horangi smiled. Jewellery wasn't much his thing, but this, this he would wear. Could tuck it into his shirt if he needed.

"Worried you might lose me?" He teased.

"You know most people would just say thank you." You argued, deflecting the question. Horangi gave you that cheeky grin and you smiled back. Damn that grin was hot. You coughed realizing you were staring. Your face was turning warm.

"Your cheeks are rosy. You cold?" Horangi asked casually.

“Why don't we find a warm drink after this." You said, focusing on your food and avoiding the question.

“Thank you for the gift. I appreciate it.” He said. You relaxed. It would hopefully make him feel safer on missions.

You and Horangi had found warm cider, and a park bench to relax on to people watch. Horangi was still looking around, you were too. You didn’t have very long with each other, maybe a couple more days or so before Horangi had to ship out again. Still, you wanted all the details.

“A wraith? Really?” You said, sipping your drink, while keeping your voice low.

“Caught me off guard too.” Horangi admitted. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

“And Konig has more control?”

“Yeah that kid… that kid does something to you. It’s weird.” Horangi said, sipping his cider. He noticed your coy smile. “What?”

“Nothing.” You said. Something about the snow in his hair, and the scars peeking from behind his cup made him adorable and handsome all at once. You wondered if it was part of the lure a yokai could have. Horangi tries to ignore you, but then you get a thought in your head. You’d had this thought before but it was from a distance. And private.

“You know… I didn’t want to say it, cause of your pride.” Horangi started.

“My pride?” You asked, your smile now a scowl of confusion.

“Oh please you think you’re hot shit and you know it.” Horangi said with a raised brow.

“Cause I am hot shit, but go on. Tell me whatever it is that could wound or support my pride.” You commanded, puffing up your chest.

“You…um… you fight good.” He said. That took the wind out of your sail a bit. It was a nice compliment just… not what you’d hoped for.

“Thanks.” You said, feeling a little disappointed. You finished your drink and Horangi finished his quickly after. Suddenly he told you he needed a minute, so you followed him. Okay a little odd. Where was this going? He took you to the alley and you kept scanning the area. Nothing but happy people with a few tired and blank faces. No one trying to cover up their intentions. Horangi started to pace a little. You let him stir for a bit. It would go away. He was overwhelmed. You have a crazy idea. You approach him carefully and take hold of his shoulders. “Hey… what's wrong?"

Horangi stopped as soon as you got in front of him, looking at you. That red on his cheeks wasn't from the cold, and neither was yours. Horangi is still at war with himself because for the longest time he has been hiding, keeping a low profile while taking out higher ones. You weren't an easy target yourself, so he had little to fear for your well being. And he was still debating whether he wanted more than what he had. Once again, he refused to look at you.

"Nothing." Horangi answered after a brief moment of eye contact. Your tail flicked up, and a hand went to his neck. You found the sweet spot easily, and he started involuntarily chuffing. "It's nothing."

"Nothing is wrong?" You asked.

"Nothing at all." He said standing up straight.

"Good..." You said. Another moment passes, and both of you look around. Now was your chance. Horangi noticed your hand was still on his neck and moved his hand to remove it. Then your soft touch became firm. You tugged his mask down in one quick clean motion. You took your shot.

You kissed him. Horangi's eyes widened before relaxing and kissing you back. Your arms went around his neck, while he wrapped his arms around your waist and torso. You two weren't going to see each other for a while. This time was a thank you for the help with your family, but it was a chance to meet up, and see the person who meant a lot to you. You felt his tail go loosely around your leg. The world seemed muffled as you just focused and lost yourself in the moment.

After what felt like hours, your lips parted and you take a moment. Then you realized what had just happened, and you don't think your face has ever felt this red in your life. Now neither of you can make eye contact, and neither of you know what to say.

"S-sorry." You said. Horangi gave you a look. Yeah you couldn't believe you said that either. Then he started to snicker, and you punched him in the arm out of embarrassment. "Shut up!"

"What are you gonna do, kiss me again?" He asked with that same smug and cheeky smile. This joker.

"And what if I do?" You asked, folding your arms. Horangi had the best time when he got you to pout like that. It didn't look like a pout, you hid it well, but he could tell. Horangi's tail hadn't left your leg. He just smiled. The question still remained about what exactly just happened, but he didn't care. That could be discussed at a later date. Instead he gave you a kiss on the cheek.

"We should keep going." You said, still flustered. Horangi just grinned, and you wanted to smack him.

Taglist: @yourlovely-moon @kaoyamamegami @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @sans-chara @1mommyrose4ever29 @smitten-haematite-quartz @talia-the-gemini @yuki2129 @whitetiger846 @graystorm444 @chibiduck @reaperxxxxzz @danielle143 @sobbingnshtting @cringeycookies @cryingpages @dcnocap207 @reaper-chan666 @bestbookfriends @thriving-n-jiving @cutiecusp @shikigami-the-paper-spirit

#cod au #horangi x reader #cod horangi x reader #haetae #hybrid au #cod hybrid au #yokai #gn reader #lion hybrid reader #haetae hybrid #they finally kissed #even though its only part two

67 notes · View notes