#viscosity bath

[labotronic]

Low Temp Water Bath 6L

Labotronics Low Temperature Water Bath has a 6L capacity, 4 L/min pump flow, and an 800mm lift .Features an advanced cooling module, maintaining a 5°C to 99°C range with ±0.1°C accuracy. It ensures temperature uniformity with a PID controller and stainless steel chamber.

[bookshelfdreams]

I received

PAKIGE

This is. Hmm. Decidedly more orange than I was anticipating, I thought it would be more of a medium brown. This is definitely more terracotta than cinnamon to me.

However! It does drape beautifully, almost feels like a heavy silk crepe. Not at all as flimsy as I thought viscose was going to be. I have confronted my prejudice, realized the error of my ways and am grateful for the opportunity to adjust my views.

Giving muted carrot vibes but it works I think. it's going on the inside anyway, who cares.

As for the wool, I finally washed it! No machine washing this time, I gave it a not-so-gentle soak in the bathtub with laundry detergent and hot water. I walked all over it, whacked it a bit for good measure, but that didn't achieve much besides making the fabric less stiff.

pre wash left, post wash right.

This is fine as I wanted to preserve the twill diagonals and overall rough look, and didn't want to felt it. I finished it with a lanolin bath, which did improve the softness of the fabric immensely.

lovely 💚

I didn't lose much width or length, so I'm gonna stick with my original plan

Excuse the light but this works I think. Now all I have to do is cut it (😬) sew a few seams, sew the inlay, add pockets and done.

[t1red-twilight]

nighttime routines

summary: you and spencer get ready for bed.

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, mention of injury, reader has hair long enough to be tucked behind ears

word count: 1k

masterlist s. r. masterlist

hotch had banned you from work after you had sustained an injury in the field. the team had been out of town on a case, and you had been left at your’s and spencer’s apartment alone for the past four or so days.

presently, you were lying on the couch and watching reruns of the office. your injury was pretty much healed, and you were planning on going back to work the coming monday.

spencer was going to be home any minute; he texted you as soon as the jet had landed.

just as the episode ended, you heard spencer unlock the door and come inside. you heard him huff out a sigh before speaking. “hi, honey. i’m home.” you could hear the smile in his tone as he recited the cliche phrase.

you bolted up from the couch and all but sprinted to the entryway. “how was the case?”

he took off his overcoat and set aside his belongings. “eh, it was alright. nothing out of the ordinary. how’s your shoulder? is it still hurting?”

now that his hands were free, you dove into his arms for a hug. he tucked his head into your shoulder and wrapped his arms around you. “no. it didn’t hurt at all today.”

he let out a sound of disbelief.

“no, i mean it. there’s not any swelling or anything.” you halted before adding, “i didn’t even take any meds today.”

his voice lowered to the quiet raspy tonality that you went crazy for. “okay, i believe you.”

the two of you stayed in the entryway for longer than a few moments. you sat and listened to him breathe. he began rocking the two of you back and forth. “you wanna go to bed?” he asked you.

you hummed an “mhm” in affirmation.

he let go of you and loosened his tie. the way his hands looked was delectable. he caught you staring and raised an eyebrow coyly.

your cheeks turned red in embarrassment. you looked away and walked to the bedroom; he followed you.

ever the gentleman, he turned away as you changed into your pajamas. he had picked a pair of red plaid pants and old fbi academy t-shirt. you were wearing some random doctor who t-shirt (one of spencers that you had claimed) and your most comfortable pair of pajama pants that were very worn out.

while the two of you were brushing your teeth, he scooted as close as he possibly could to you. your eyes met in the bathroom mirror and you smiled at him.

your skincare came next. he sat on the edge of the bath behind you. as you followed the steps of your routine, he chattered along with you. “why do you do the toner before the moisturizer again?” he inquired.

“because the toner is a lower viscosity,” you gently rubbed in your moisturizer.

“ah, makes sense.” you could tell from the look on his face that he did not, in fact, understand. you figured that he would research it later and inform you about logic behind it tomorrow.

you washed your hands and turned around, and walked over to him. stepping in between his legs, you looked down at his form. he placed his hands on the backs of your thighs and traced his fingers over them.

his puppy dog eyes were entrancing. “ready for bed, angel?”

“yeah. laying on the couch all day was really tiring,” you replied, smiling down at him.

he stood up and settled his hand on the small of your back and guided you to the bed. once in bed, you pulled the covers up to your chin. he tilted his head to the side and snickered at you.

you grinned at him. you kept eye contact as he crawled his way up and flopped himself on top of you, his full body weight settled.

“you’ll get cold if you lay like that all night, spence,” you chuckled.

his voice was muffled by the covers. “hmm, actually, you are quite the little space heater, angel.”

“really? is that a bad thing?” you craned your neck to look down at him.

“no. I get cold easily and you counteract that perfectly.” he moved his face from being smushed to look up at you. he then rolled off of you and tucked himself into the sheets.

almost instantaneously, you scampered through the sheets and right into his side.

he turned onto his side so that he could swaddle you entirely in his arms. he planted his chin on top of your head.

you inhaled his comforting scent. “i missed you.”

his voice had a raspiness to it that was only present when he was very tired or when he was waking up. “i missed you too. the case would have been solved quicker if you were there.”

“i don’t know about that, darling.” you were falling asleep very quickly.

“no, you’re a very valuable member of the team. you are very observant and catch onto patterns that the rest of us are slow to realize. also, i work better when you’re around me.” his fingers returned to tracing the patterns on your back that he was tracing on your thighs earlier.

he gently lodged his leg between yours. you nudged at his throat with your nose. “well, i’m glad to hear it. i don’t want to be out of a job right after getting shot.”

he kissed your forehead. “are you sure that your shoulder feels okay? completely, i mean. i don’t think that you should even do office work when incapacitated.”

“i wouldn’t lie to you about something like this, pretty boy.” he chuckled at the nickname, stolen from morgan. “i promise, i’m okay.” your voice was softening, sleep was sneaking up on you quicker and quicker.

“okay good. did anything happen while i was gone?” you felt his breath against your hair.

“i had to kill a spider in the kitchen yesterday. all by myself, mind you.”

he huffed out a little laugh. “oh god, that’s horrible,” he teased. “i’ll save you from the next one.”

[archonofthestars]

Red, the Color of You

Phainon learns the meaning of the red lines Mydei wears.

Characters: Phainon, Mydei, Algaea (mentioned) Tags: N/A

AN: A gift for the wonderful keroroppi; they requested a Mydei/Phainon moment. I was inspired after reading some Garrus Vakarian/Shepherd fan fiction from Mass Effect. It’s like 99% likely that Mydei’s red designs are tattoos, but I’m playing fast and loose with canon here (aka I do what I want, jazz hands).

Want to see me write something? Submit an ask!

✧. ┊    

✧. ┊    

Phainon noticed that Mydei had a specific ritual after combat.

It was a simple one, very unassuming. If Phainon didn’t pay such close attention to Mydei, he would’ve probably missed it entirely.

But after some random battle, the details of which Phainon no longer remembered, he saw that the red lines on Mydei’s shoulders were smeared. Normally, the red lines streaking across his body didn’t change in any way; Phainon could’ve almost sworn they were tattoos. 

Hell, they didn’t even fade or wash off when the two of them entered the Hero’s Bath to wipe off the grime of combat. Whatever Mydei used to paint those on, it was stubborn and very good at its job (just like its owner).

But the next time Phainon saw him, the red lines were back in their full glory, nothing smeared or out of place on the Kremnoan prince.

It intrigued Phainon, and what intrigued him, he pursued relentlessly.

He didn’t get another chance to find out more until weeks later. Another series of attacks on Okhema resulted in him and Mydei going to the battlefield, where waves of titankin attempted to beat down the gates of the holy city. The fight was ultimately nothing too difficult, other than that the titankin never seemed to run out of reinforcements.

The two of them managed to amass a sizable collection of cuts and bruises, including one that ran straight from Mydei’s shoulder and across his chest. It bisected a few of the red lines on him, and where the skin had healed, the red coloring was gone, leaving only pale skin. 

Algaea had needed Phainon elsewhere after the battle, and it wasn’t until a few hours later that Phainon was able to find his way to Mydei’s room. It was almost second nature to find his way there from the amount of times he had gone to visit Mydei (the latter insisted it was less ‘visiting’ and more ‘bothering’, but Phainon politely ignored him).

He knocked quickly on the door, more out of courtesy than anything, and opened it before he got permission. Even if Mydei had told him no, he still would’ve entered. 

Mydei glanced up at him from the floor, looking faintly annoyed but saying nothing as Phainon entered. In one bare hand was a small clay pot, filled with a deep red liquid, while he held a dark brush in the other hand.

“You know, I’ve always wondered what your marks were made of,” Phainon commented, eyeing the pot with curiosity as he joined Mydei on the floor. “You wanna spill the beans on what that paint is?”

Mydei scowled at him, dipping the brush into the liquid and carefully setting the pot down. “Do you truly have nothing better to do right now?” was all he said as he focused his attention on redrawing the line on his shoulder.

“What, I’m not allowed to find out more about my dearest lover?” Phainon asked cheekily, coming to sit down next to him. “Usually, lovers tell each other everything.”

“You’re not my dearest lover,” Mydei said, almost reflexively. The words lacked any real venom. “And because I know you’ll bother me until I answer you, it’s Kremnoan war paint. It’s designed to withstand even the fiercest battles.”

“Is it just meant to look scary?” Phainon grabbed the clay pot, watching the liquid move around. The viscosity reminded him of honey, slow moving and thick. 

“No,” the prince retorted, (carefully) snagging the clay pot from his hands. “It’s meant to symbolize your heritage and family lineage. Only those from the royal family can use this red color.”

The Deliverer stared in surprise; to be honest, he wasn’t expecting that answer. He really had thought it was meant to be a scare tactic against their enemies, but now that Mydei mentioned it, he hadn’t seen any other Kremnoans wearing this vivid red color. And every Kremnoan’s design had been different.

Dipping the tip of his pinky in the paint while Mydei was distracted, he asked, “Why would you need to paint your family lineage on yourself?”

Mydei sighed, clearly tired of all the questions. “If you fall in combat, your symbols will tell others who you were and who to return your body to for burial. No one knows every soldier in an army.”

“That’s kind of morbid, but I guess it makes sense.” Kremnoans tended to do things very differently than the people of Okhema.

For a moment, silence descended on the room and Phainon watched as Mydei continued to fill in the lines on him with even, smooth strokes. It was clear the prince had done this many times in the past. It felt a little like watching an artist painting a masterpiece.

He wondered…

“Can you paint some on me?” The words tumbled out of his mouth without him really thinking about it. The image of him wearing the same red marks at Mydei on his body thrilled him. Something about it felt surprisingly intimate.

The other man looked startled at the request, and it took a moment for Phainon’s brain to catch up. The symbols of the royal family, the red color only they could wear. Phainon had basically asked to write that he was officially part of Mydei’s family all over his body. They may have an arrangement that was something like lovers (if lovers meant avoiding talking about what exactly they were and any feelings they might have) but this was definitely beyond the scope of their current relationship.

Phainon might as well have asked if he could marry Mydei right there before all of Okhema. 

He could feel the heat pool on his cheeks, but decided to wait for Mydei’s response. If the prince got angry, Phainon would apologize and try to calm him down. If he played it off like Phainon had made a bad joke, Phainon could throw out jabs and jokes until the atmosphere went back to normal.

After what felt like the longest moment in Phainon’s life, Mydei slowly nodded. The movement looked uncertain, but the prince began moving closer to him.

“Take your coat and shirt off,” he ordered, dipping the brush into the liquid.

That…was not the response Phainon was expecting. The implications of Mydei going along with this were…he couldn’t even begin to grasp all of it. A little stunned, he awkwardly quipped, “If you wanted to see me naked, you could’ve just asked.”

Mydei rolled his eyes so hard, they looked like they could’ve come out of his head. “Unless you want me to paint all over your clothes…” He moved the brush closer, emphasizing his threat. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! No need to ruin my clothes,” Phainon conceded, quickly pulling the articles off and tossing them somewhere in the room. “Algaea would kill me if I ruined another outfit.”

The Kremnoan merely huffed at that. Carefully, he leaned in and Phainon felt the cool touch of liquid trailing on his collarbone. 

The sensation was kind of relaxing, he had to admit. And something about Mydei’s steady hand working across his skin had Phainon closing his eyes to enjoy it. The prince rarely had quiet moments with him. Usually, their time together consisted of sparring, throwing playful jabs at each other, or tangling up in the sheets. Sometimes all three at once, depending on the day.

He hadn’t even realized how much time had passed until Mydei uttered a quiet, “Done,” and the feeling of the brush and ink on his skin disappeared. 

Opening his eyes and glancing down, Phainon took a long moment to admire the curving red lines along his arms and abdomen. The color stood out strongly on his pale skin, really drawing an eye to their designs all along his body.

Phainon made his way over to the mirror in the corner of the room to admire the full picture. And wow, what a picture it made. He hadn’t anticipated how he would feel, seeing Mydei’s familiar symbols painted on him. It made him feel…

It made him feel like he really did belong to Mydei, their undefined relationship be damned. And something in his traitorous little heart just melted at the idea of that.

If any Kremnoan saw him right now, Phainon could only imagine their reaction to the Deliverer of Okhema basically wearing, “I am officially part of Crown Prince Mydeimos’ family,” all over himself.

The man himself was quietly watching Phainon, the line of his shoulders slightly tense as he waited for Phainon’s response to his work. 

Turning around, a grin crept onto Phainon’s face. “I think it suits me, wearing your colors. Don’t you?” And, ever the one to be obnoxious, he held his arms out and gave a quick spin, like he was a young girl showing off a beautiful new dress.

“Don’t go fishing for compliments, Deliverer,” Mydei retorted, but he sounded more amused than anything. He stashed his tools in a cabinet near his bed before reaching to put his gauntlets and armor back on.

“Besides,” he continued, smirking over at Phainon. “You’ll be stuck with that for weeks now. Good luck explaining that to the others because I won’t.”

[papaziggy-devblog]

If no one else is asking..

Simon’s NSFW alphabet?? 👀

=v=

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Lots of kisses along your skin.. massaging your sore spots.. maybe a nice hot bath and falling asleep with takeout and a movie

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Ass man... big, small, he don't care .w.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Medium viscosity, but copious... doesn't really taste like anything but has a faint smell

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) Wants to overstimulate you to the point of breaking you so bad... like so so bad... wants you completely mind broken because of him.. A drooling mess who can't even remember their own name

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) A little bit of experience, not too much but he knows what he's doing

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Having you up against the wall Or you having him up against the wall, he isn't picky

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) May be a lil silly here and there but is mostly either sweet and loving during or very very kinky

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) He shaves

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Very romantic... will wine and dine you and make you feel like the only other person in the world

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Around once a day ish?

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Praise, degradation, biting, blood play, knife play, BDSM, orgasm deprivation, choking, overstimulation, sensory deprivation, gagging, dirty talk, cock warming, cuddle fucking

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Not picky

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) Hearing you whimper or whispering sweet words into your ear

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) The usuals

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) Decent at giving, love receiving, seeing you choke on his cock does things to him

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.) Slow and sensual usually unless he's worked up

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Not a huge fan but not opposed

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.) Open to experiment and risk

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?) High stamina, most likely you'll tire out before him

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?) Doesn't really have any, doesn't mind getting some

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Likes to both tease and be teased uvu

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) Very vocal, in terms of words and sounds, will tell you how good you're doing, how well you're taking him, how amazing you feel, how he wants to fill you to the brim and keep going

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) Would love to just cuddle on the bed or couch and watch TV or something while inside you... Not really fucking, just relaxing while inside you

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) 8 inches

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Hmmm... medium, about average if a tiny bit above

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) They can stay awake for a while after... You'll prolly fall asleep before he does

[fluffle-writes]

hello! I loved the weirdcore au, such a cool idea, i wanted to ask, how do vil and rook clean their wings? taking a bath seems kinda risky, imagine the pain of getting soap on multiple eyes! Actually their self care routine as a whole makes me curious, does vil still wear makeup here? Or he just takes care of his hair?

Weirdcore AU Masterlist Here!

I AM AWAKE AND READY TO TALK MORE ABOUT MY AU :D

Vil and Rook's wings! They definitely need to work around the eyes, but they have third eyelids for each of their eyes - similar to crocodiles! This allows them to fly with them open to observe the ground beneath them - which can assist in hunting or searching for something. It can also mean that irritants are more difficult to get into their eyes - but there are still problems with using cleaning agents on their wings.

Generally though, they actually don't use soaps on their wings! A thorough enough job of preening with clean water washes away any accumulated dirt, blood, dust, or dead skin cells away well enough - and damaged feathers come loose quite easily to be pulled out during preening sessions. Not to mention, soaps can strip the wings of natural oils that protect their skin and feathers.

(Chances are, if you visit in the evenings, you may come across groups of Pomefiore students preening one-another's wings in little cliques - as it's a common bonding activity for individuals with feathered wings.)

As for the rest of their self care routines, it would really need to differ from person to person... I'll speak more in depth about how their features work as well as how they maintain their appearances under the cut.

Vil's flesh has an almost malleable feel to it - it's almost slime-like to the touch but without any residue left behind, while also having the texture of human skin. Looking at him closely enough reveals that his body is actually semi-transparent. He uses pigment sacs - similar to octopi - to imitate the appearance of galacies on his skin's surface, but he can just as easily manipulate light to alter his appearance as he wishes.

Because of this, his skin may be more fragile and need more gentle cleansers and a thorough moisturising routine - which Vil keeps on top of, of course. Additionally, although I was unable to include it in his sprite edit, Vil has near-invisible glass-like talons instead of fingernails and toenails which he keeps well maintained and filed sharp.

Vil's hair is odd in the sense that it's more like liquid than hair. It's quite viscous, but leaves no residue when touched like his skin, and anything that touches it can pass through with little difficulties aside from the viscosity. Touching it can leave a tingling (almost electric) sensation in the hands, and ingestion can spell death due to the toxicity of the oils and hormones Vil's body produces to ward off danger. It doesn't need cleaning as it maintains itself for the most part, but Vil often adds ground up gold and gemstones to colour it how he wants to.

His wings and tail, as mentioned above, are kept neat and tidy through preening sessions with Rook and, more recently, Epel. He has glands that secrete natural oils under his feathers, which can be spread across them to moisturise them properly and strengthen them.

(Fun fact - When Vil was a newborn, he looked more like an amoeba with six stubby little limbs (which later grew into his wings!) He learned how to maintain a much more structured body shape and control his pigment sacs like his father later on in life)

Rook's self care routines are more focused on his animalistic traits - polishing his horns and brushing through his fur any time it gets a bit too unruly. He also often applies moisturising oils to the palms of his hands, as they are similar to paw pads that foxes have and need more tlc to keep them soft and reduce irritation/itchiness.

Bathing habits of his are similar to Vil, vetoing the use of soap on his wings but still using them on the rest of his body. Due to his fur, though, Rook may have a hard time getting thoroughly dry after without help - although he often opts to shake himself off and flap his wings to create wind to help him dry faster. Because of this, bathing has to be an evening task for him - lest he end up with skin irritation from trapped moisture.

(Vil spent a god awful amount of time combing through Rook's fur and applying potions to his skin to prevent irritation when he first moved to Pomefiore - and since then Rook's always been manhandled a little bit if Vil suspects he's falling slightly behind on that area of self-care. He is NOT sitting with Rook in his lap for hours untangling that mess of a coat again - his shedding in the spring is bad enough!)

Epel needed a LOT of TLC when Vil first spotted him - his body, hair, and wings are all made of a marble-like material. Had he practiced self care often enough, Epel would have handled the cold climate in Harveston perfectly well. However, he would often insist that applying protective wax and oils to maintain smooth skin was unnecessary since he could handle the cold just fine without it.

This meant that, once he arrived at NRC, what would have been smooth and well cared for features was instead rough around the edges with damage done by the cold and the snow from years spent outside in that environment. Epel's self care routine is chock full of revitalising tinctures designed to help his skin regain it's strength and smoothness, as well as a special type of beeswax to protect him from any more damage - which is also applied to his horns.

As for cleaning, soap and water works well except for on his wings - which instead has a special cleanser Vil made with keratin-boosting properties to ensure that they're strengthened properly without interfering with Epel's ability to fly.

(Epel himself is a little miffed with all of the routines Vil made him keep up with after he joined Pomefiore, but will admit that he feels much better a lot of the time now that he's actually properly taking care of himself.)

[whitesocklovr]

The fluorescent green of the gunge shimmered ominously far below. PC "Rhino" Reynolds, PC "Brick" Bartlett, PC "Steel" Sterling, and PC "Iron" Ironside, a quartet more accustomed to apprehending criminals than contemplating a descent into viscous goo, perched precariously on the narrow ledge. Their impeccably white Nike socks, a stark contrast to the impending slime bath, seemed to gleam with a silent protest.

A charity fundraising event had somehow spiraled into this sticky predicament. Their sergeant, a woman with a mischievous glint in her eye and a penchant for the absurd, had volunteered them. "For community spirit," she'd declared, conveniently overlooking their collective fear of anything remotely slimy.

Rhino, whose biceps strained the seams of his police-issue shirt, swallowed hard. He'd faced down armed robbers without flinching, but the thought of being submerged in that lurid green concoction sent a shiver down his spine. Brick, usually the most jovial of the group, was uncharacteristically silent, his gaze fixed on the swirling depths. Steel, ever the pragmatist, was mentally calculating the viscosity and potential staining properties of the gunge. Even Iron, whose stoic demeanor rarely wavered, fidgeted slightly, his powerful thighs flexing nervously.

The crowd below roared with anticipation. Children pointed and giggled. Their colleagues offered a mixture of encouragement and thinly veiled amusement. There was no escape. They were the poster boys for "Plunge the Police," and the plunge was imminent.

A small boy in the front row shouted, "Go on, officers! Don't be scared!"

Rhino exchanged a worried glance with Brick. Steel sighed softly. Iron subtly adjusted his pristine white sock. They were the thin blue line, protectors of the peace, and right now, their peace of mind was rapidly dissolving into a pool of green goo. The sergeant's booming voice echoed, "Alright lads, who's going first?"

A collective gulp was the only answer. The ledge suddenly felt very high, and the gunge very, very green. Their impeccably clean socks felt like the last vestiges of their dignity before the inevitable, sticky descent. Xx

[baeddelicto]

MÆRA

(Older woman/boy(girl), v light gore, somno?, hypno?, idk i dint actually knw how to label writng mech?)

930 words

《Incubation in 3..2..1..》

*krxh* "Dont you fret hun, i know its daunting down there in that chamber but we're up here with sweaty palms too. Now the fluid is breathable and full of that sweet ambrosia so go ahead and take a breath, relax, and drift away" *khp*

She's right its always a crapshoot isnt it tryn sumthn new nd honestly this fluid hasnt even reached my mouth and i already feel better, less tense, floaty like a salt bath if it were the color and viscosity of dirty engine oil...

Smells sweet, ambrosia huh, hear goes... tastes sweet not that hard to move through my lungs actually, i wonder how lon....

■

"Slipped right past hypnogogia... hope that ain't the case on the flipside. Lower the serum dosage 20%."

"Yessir, entering stage 3......stage 4..... cresting, begining reentry, stage 3"

"Drop another 20. Shit boy slow down. He lied to you Doc."

"It would seem so."

"0 drinks a day my ass."

"We've reached hypnopompia sir."

"Atonia?"

"Yessir!"

"Hot Dog!"

■

Fuck, fuck why can't i talk? Shit somethings wrong w the fluid i cant move! What is-

"Hey sugar, im sure youre all worked up by now so im gonna remind you of earlier when i told you dont fret but um now im not gonna say that bc right now thats what you need. That fear got you real focused. And i need you to take that focus and push out. Focus on the edges of your vision and try to see past all that filth in that pit."

Oh its Jacinta...thats nice... i guess i should listen to her and do something other than freaking out. seems simple enough. Fuck i didnt think a dark room could spin this much. Dont hurl. No hurling. Pleass God. Wait how did Jacinta get in my-

Woah im outside.... That ridgeline its the Salspar Escarpment...

"There you go, Youre a natural kiddo! Now walk toward the escarpment keep your eyes on Salvor's Peak."

I can do that... heh mom always said i needed direction gues i got one. East by Southeast. Honestly one of the better directions westerly spring winds and the rings of Sarthis blaze violet in the afternoon sun. Oh fuck almost tripped that would have been embarassing Jacinta would hav- Why do my feet look so weird and my legs i look lik afucking bug! FUCK oh god wheres my dick?! Wheres my SkIN! FUCKFUKfuckFug I cant feel anything why didnt my knees hurt when i fall? My hands are tearing into my thighs but i cant feel it FUck im bleeding fuCk its everywhr fuck i-

■

"heyy kid how ya feeln?"

Jacinta whispers to me as she lightly brushes the hair out of my face. Her weight was flushing the mattress so that the side of my hip was pressed into hers. She clasps her hand to my brow then traces the half moon of my face to my cheek. Her raven hair glows a deep amber in the evening light streaming in from the window. She gave a crooked smile.

"You're burnin up bud. We gotta get some fluids in you..." She turns to a small table behind her, a messy plait spills over her shoulder and swishes over the small of her back. The rattle of paper on board heralds

"Petragua or citralyte?"

I nod to the petragua and she replaces the other and proffers my mouth a straw. She gazes down at me warmly as i suck down the plum-apricot-chem slurry. The infusion perks me up a bit.

"Alright now don't drain it dry. Don't want it coming back up all over my vest." She pulls it from my lips and i eek a short and quiet suckng sound that manages a full 5 seconds of embarrassment even though the sound was .3 seconds long.

"Kid ill be real with ya. You did great..exceptional even! Most of the time we dont even get to a stroll the first time we just... well its a whole lot more work on my end than what happened with you so i just wanted to say... im proud of you."

She squeezes my shoulder and feathers her hand to my cheek again.

"I know all this been hard on you and you've put in a lot of work before you even got in the pit and it payed off." She picks up the petragua again and hangs it in the air for a second.

"To all your work...and all of our work... and to your health." She sips some of it then positions it back towards me again. I slurp with even more energy this time.

"Having such a strong liminal drive link seams to really make a difference. Honestly i think you two should meet but we have to get clearance pfft its bullshit. How are you supposed to pilot together if you dont even know eachother? How are we supposed to figure out what this spark is that makes the liminal drive work if we never get to observe you interacting in a controled manner? I swear im gonna have a word-"

*slurpppppp* she pulls it from my face.

"Oh listen to me blathern on, you got another 18 hours til youre on rotation again. You can head back to your room whenever. Ill see you then ok? I just wanted to check in on you." And with that she rises, throws her vest on, and clacks and jingles out the door with a two finger wave lingering behind her with her plait.

[labotronic]

Kinematic Viscosity Bath LB-40

Labotronics Kinematic Viscosity Bath offers precise fluid testing with an 8L cold bath, operating from 20°C to -60°C. It ensures accurate measurements with a Pt100 platinum resistor sensor and ±0.1°C temperature accuracy. Its slot holes enable easy setup for demanding viscosity applications.

[ripplestitchskein]

@solarpunk-0possum asked for a guide on solar yarn dyeing and I wrote this up because I’m a nutcase. It’s long but hopefully informative.

Its actually really easy and there’s cool things you can do with it. Chemknits on YouTube has some fun projects too, their channel is the ultimate dye channel imo. But I’m going to give you a crash course here because I like doing that.

Let’s start with fiber.

For acid dyes it needs to be a protein based fiber, it can be a blend, so wool and nylon for example but depending on the fiber it may look slightly different. I almost exclusively use Wool2Dye4 platinum sock for my yarn base which is 75% super wash merino wool and 25% nylon but for more environmentally friendly dyeing, as super washing isn’t great, you can go non super wash wool or other natural protein based fiber. Paradise Fibers and KnitPicks also have white yarn bases. There are other companies but most won’t let you buy single skeins as they are geared toward commercial dyers. I buy in bulk cause I do a lot of dyeing.

If you get a non super wash wool yarn it can felt but this process minimizes that risk significantly. Handling it a lot, stirring or squeezing and temp changes are what cause wool to felt. I also dye 100% wool top and roving in many varieties with this same method. This technique is great for that because your felting risk is super low since you aren’t stirring or changing temps until you rinse and even then the temp change is a lot less and your fiber stays together.

If you do a fiber like silk it is going to react a lot differently so you want to play around to get the hue you want. Silk is notoriously tricky but gorgeous.

Plant based fibers need a different totally different dye and mordant though, I’ll get into that later but if you have a hemp, linen, bamboo or viscose or something you can still do this. Even synthetic fibers like white acrylic or nylon can be dyed just needs a different dye and I can’t speak to the efficacy of solar as I’ve never dyed them but nylon blend works so I don’t see why not.

Now to the dyes.

Acid reactive dyes are dyes that react and bind to fiber once acid is introduced to the party. I use white vinegar or citric acid. You can buy acid dyes from companies like Jacquard or Dharma Trading, there are several companies but these are my personal favs. Jacquard has a red, blue and yellow set that is great to start with as you mix your own colors using basic color wheel principles.

You don’t have to buy special dye though!!

You can dye with Kool Aid or Easter egg dyeing pellets or food coloring (gel or liquid), cake sprays, bath bomb colors etc. It just won’t be as color and light fast. But if you are just playing around it’s super fun and safe and I have skeins that kept their colors for years no issue. Also using those food based dyes can be done with children where I wouldn’t with acid dyes.

For acid dyes you want to use equipment that won’t ever touch food again, so you need specific jars and spoons and such that are just for dyeing. I have dedicated dyeing equipment (stock pot, crock pot, tongs, spoons, etc) but I purchased all of it at thrift shops for super cheap.

I also use a N95 mask or respirator whenever I open my dye powder jars to not breath in particulates. I also wear glasses or safety goggles. I wear a mask for ANY powder even Kool Aid. It’s just good PPE. I am bad about wearing gloves though….I should be better. Wear gloves.

For this project as far as equipment all you need are glass mason jars. I used 2quart so the yarn could move freely but 1quart or smaller will work too you just might need to put in less yarn. You also need plastic or paper cups to mix dye in if you are mixing. If you are using an acid dye or even a Kool Aid you need gloves, and a mask.

I do recommend a scale but it is not necessary, 1 tsp of acid dye is usually = 1 gram but check the manufacturer documentation. If you are using food coloring or Kool Aid you don’t need special dedicated stuff at all.

You will also need an acid like white vinegar or citric acid. Kool Aid, and PAS easter pellets or other powdered drink mixes usually have an acid in them so you can use them as is but I always add a little extra acid for better color adhesion.

For plant based fibers you need a fiber reactive dye and a mordant like soda ash or alum . Procion has a Pro MX line. You can also dye with natural materials like indigo, madder, onion skins, marigold, avocado etc. Some people recommend soaking or boiling your fiber in your chosen mordant but tbh I’ve done it just throwing everything in the jar and had good results so 🤷‍♀️. You can get soda ash and alum on Amazon or other sources like Dharma Trading. For plant based dyeing you just put the leaves or roots depending on the material in the jar with everything. Natural dyeing takes A LOT longer than acid or fiber reactive dyes for solar dyeing but it’s still fun and MUCH better for environment.

For synthetic fibers like acrylic you have to use something like Rit. I don’t do this very often (or at all really) and have never solar dyed acrylic as I just buy acrylic yarn in the color I want when I use it, but I assume it would work the same? I cannot guarantee it though. I’ve also seen people use acrylic paint mixed with water to dye yarn, it just changes the texture slightly so your mileage may vary with synthetics. I don’t recommend using them though. You can get 100% wool, linen, bamboo etc at craft stores pretty easily now a days.

So now that you have your dye and your fiber let’s get dyeing!

Prepping the Fiber

Weigh your yarn. You can use a kitchen scale. This will help you figure out how much dye to use to get the shade you want. This calculator for acid dyes is great for figuring out how much dye stock solution you need. For Kool Aid or Food Coloring it’s just vibes based for me but someone has probably figured out the amounts. We’ll get there.

To prevent tangling I recommend tying your yarn off in the skein at regular intervals. You can see my purple yarn ties in the pic below. I also use reusable zip ties. If you buy yarn the skeins usually come pre-tied but I skein up my own yarn so yeah. I also will put a zip tie or large piece of yarn at either end to keep it orderly. You can also just put entire cakes wound up from a ball winder, or an entire skein from the store in the jar too though, you’ll get different effects from the natural resist of it being wound up but it’s super fun to see what happens.

Soak your yarn, if you want more color variation you can do it dry, that’s often how tonals and semi solids are dyed as the dye binds or “strikes” to the fiber at different rates so feel free to experiment. You can also presoak your yarn in an acid and water mixture for different effects as well. It’s all about experimentation! Even your dye can do things differently depending on if the dye “breaks”, that’s where different pigments make up the dye and will strike at different temps, the Purple Pop I used in this example is a dye that will break into blues and reds or different purples if I do different things with the heat. For natural you can soak in your mordant like alum or soda ash. You probably want to get more detailed instructions on amounts though, I just look it up when I do it as I never remember and it takes me forever to gather enough plant material so it’s only a once or twice a year thing.

In this example I soaked my yarn in plain water for about 30 minutes before I added any dye as I was going for a solid.

While your yarn is soaking you can mix your dyes!

Mixing Dye:

If you are using acid dyes you can add your dye powder directly to the water you are dying in until it looks like you want. I dip pieces of paper towel into it to get an idea of what it looks like color wise, or what I do for greater precision with different color saturations and to not waste dye is mix a dye stock solution.

It sounds scarier than it is. A dye stock solution is suspending the dye molecules in water to make a concentration of dye. My dye stocks are 1 part to 100 for a 1% solution. So for Dharma dyes I mix 1 gram (1 part) to 100ml hot water (100 parts). Once I have my dye stock mixed I can use that to determine how many milliliters of dye I want to introduce to my yarn. The calculator I linked can tell you how much for the depth of shade you want but for an example if I want a mid saturation at 2% for a 50g skein I would use 100ml of dye stock. If I want a much lighter shade at .5% I would only use 25ml. If I want just the regular color at 1% I use whatever the fiber weighs in ml, so 50ml for a 50g skein. The skeins above are 2% of Sour Apple and Purple Pop except for the lighter green which was .5% of Sour Apple. If I wanted pastels I usually do like .025%.

The calculation is Weight of Fiber x Depth of Shade for a 1% dye stock solution. You can make stronger dye stocks like 2 grams per 100ml for a 2% but I find just using 1% much easier cause math is annoying but the calculator will let you do that too.

For Kool Aid or Food Coloring just mix your color in water and dip in pieces of paper towel until it’s approximately the shade you want. It’s not 100 accurate as paper towel is different than your fiber but is pretty close, or at least gives you an idea if you have a deep shade or a pastel shade. If it’s too dark add more water, too light add more dye.

For natural dye you can’t really determine what shade you’ll get as plants have too many variables, there are some general guidelines for most common dye materials that can give you an idea though and generally less material is lighter and more material is darker.

The Full Process:

Weigh your yarn if you are trying to get a more precise depth of shade. Then you can use the calculations above to determine how much dye. If you are just playing you can skip this. If you bought skeins they usually tell you if it’s 100g or 25g etc so no need to weigh.

I filled my jars with plain water and put the yarn in (make sure it’s loose, I made the mistake with my first batch last weekend of accidentally leaving it twisted in the skein and it formed a resist, I just overdyed and still got some pretty skeins so nothing lost but if you want white spots or different depts of shade throughout feel free to add some resist by leaving it skeined or tying off sections like tie dye!).

When filling your jars remember we need room at the top to add dye and acid so just fill until the yarn moves freely, you can always top it off after. Can you tell I’ve made this mistake?

I let it soak for about 30 minutes while I prepared my dye stock.

Once my dye was mixed and my yarn had soaked I determined how much dye I wanted to use. Then just add the dye into the jar. I let my yarn sit in the dye without acid for another 30 minutes. I put the lid on and shook it up to make sure it penetrated all the yarn. Again, if you want different effects you can add the acid in now, don’t mix it, etc but for a solid you want as even coverage as possible.

Then I added the acid. I used 1/4 cup acid cause that’s what I always use for some reason but you can add just 1 or 2 tablespoons. I used white vinegar. I usually use a citric acid mix with water but I ran out. It doesn’t matter the vinegar smell fades.

I put my lid on, gave it a good mix and I was done. Now for the sun part.

What makes the dye bond to fiber is a proportion of acid, heat and time. With kettle dyeing in a pot on the stove or similar you introduce heat rapidly but in this case it’s not so much about the temp as it is the UV and time. You don’t have to put your jars in direct sunlight outside, a sun facing window is fine too. Your jars do need to be clear though.

I put mine outside. You can still solar dye if it’s overcast or even if it’s kinda cold it just might take more time.

Then just leave it! You’ll know it’s done when the water is clear, the yarn can make it appear like it’s not clear but pool it at the top of the jar to check on it.

This is called exhausting the dye, all the dye molecules have found a friend in the fiber and adhered to it. Some dyes do not exhaust completely, either because there is too much dye for the weight of fiber and all the molecules have already found their friend, or because of the dye itself. The Purple Pop is really bad about exhausting. If it’s been several days and you aren’t seeing a change it may be done, in that case just take your yarn out but add another skein in with some more acid, no need to waste it, you’ll get a lighter shade. I usually have a yarn mop for collecting non-exhausted dye. I just throw it in and see what happens, sometimes with many different colors.

The length of time you leave it out depends on a lot of factors, natural plant based dyes can take months, these acid based dyes took two days in Central FL but honestly the greens were exhausted in like 18 hours and the purple I didn’t see any change so I just took it out and put another skein in, its cooking now. I usually give my acid or Kool Aid dye projects no more than a week cause I’m impatient and always have had good results. Plant based I’ll leave for months.

After you remove your yarn you can dump the water. If I dump it outside I add a little baking soda to neutralize the acid, or just let it sit for awhile. I don’t like to dump it near water sources like wells or any food based gardens but have used it to water flowers and stuff. If using Kool Aid or food coloring you can do whatever. I’ve also reused my water for another dye if it’s totally clear or if I don’t care if there’s a bit leftover.

Then wash and rinse your yarn! I use Kookabura Wool Wash but you can use anything like Dawn dish soap. You may have a bit of bleeding depending on the color or none at all, just rinse and repeat until the water runs clear. If it’s a lot of bleeding and you are washing and rinsing and it just won’t run clear you can steam set it by wrapping it in plastic wrap while still wet and microwaving it or steaming it in a steamer basket like you would a vegetable. If you microwave just don’t burn your yarn! I do like 30 second intervals in the microwave until it’s hot to the touch but I rarely have to do this.

For non super wash wool or wool top/rocing that will felt you need to do this gently. Don’t run water directly on the fiber, handle it as little as possible, don’t introduce extreme temperature changes etc. The temp is less of a concern for solar though, that mostly applies to kettle where you go from hot to cold.

Then hang to dry! If you tied off your skein it should be tangle free, but you may need to shake or comb it a bit to get rid of curly bits. I use a dedicated salad spinner to really get it dry first then hang and it’s usually totally dry in a few hours.

And that’s it! Hope this helped, sorry it’s so long.

[whatisbirds]

Limits of an Invitation - Chapter 4 - Ivory Orchard

The morning after always hits different.

Finally got around to posting chapter 4 over here on tumblr! You can read it on Ao3 here or continue reading under the fold.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eliza’s turnaround was breakneck.

It was just shy of three in the morning when Anatol had cut loose the last stitch in her new arm. Eliza, at that point half dozed on a mix of painkillers and exhaustion, was barely coherent. But even through the fog, she could already feel the unpleasant pin-and-needle sensation of nerves reconnecting. Intermittent flares of sensation jostling them awake as Anatol gently slid it in a shoulder sling. 

The blindfold felt redundant as she could barely keep her eyes open anyway, but that didn’t stop Anatol from insisting upon it as she was shepherded out of the narrow surgery. It was a short journey, navigating up two flights of steps before depositing her into a guest room. Even in her half-lucid state she could tell by the concrete floor and persistent echo of their steps that they had began their journey from the basement. Despite it being the dead of winter, it was as hot and humid as a greenhouse down there. The smell arresting–musky, earthen with the abrasive ring of iron to it. A heavy, oversaturated viscosity so thick it was bordering on unbreathable. The air oozed down her throat and coated her lungs like tar. By the time they reached the top of the steps sweat had begun to bead on her brow-it felt more like being spat out by a beast than ascending a staircase.

The rest of the journey however was normal enough. They reached her room, exchanged goodnights and she was out the second her head hit her pillow.

When she awoke, she half expected it to be back in her apartment.

Dark, cherry red sheets contradicted that expectation. The heavy curtains of the guest room had been drawn so tightly she could barely tell it was daylight out from the bed. According to the bright red glow of the bedside alarm clock, it was half past noon. When Eliza moved to sit up, she barely caught herself before slumping back into the mattress. 

Her left arm was still tucked neatly into its sling.

The events from the evening before blew back into her mind in fragments. The lathe, the loss, the basement, the story. The insistence that the man who wove it all together was something a little more or a little less than human. Eliza could only string together at a few scattered bones of the overall skeleton of the night–a grotesque fairy tale that would only occasionally call her attention beyond the discomfort and pain. Winding deer trails wrapped around concerns of husbands, patrons, lovers and fathers–basically anything except an answer to the question which had launched the whole ordeal.

Eliza gave her fingers an experimental wiggle and they twitched to life dutifully. Unfortunately, what she could see she could not feel. Not much beyond a distant tingle, a vague sensation. But a sensation of gaining momentum.

Once she had navigated out of the bed she found her shoes neatly lined up in front of an antique cherrywood dresser. Hand-carved rose blossoms made up the handles and an elegantly rendered garden sprung up atop the back panel. Aligned perfectly with her shoes, folded neatly atop the dresser, was an oversized wide-sleeved T shirt. Eggshell white and of weighty, sound construction hinting at luxury. A considerate alternative to the tattered blood and bile stained sweater she had woken up in. Luckily for her this guest bedroom had an ensuite bathroom, one which was better stocked than her own.

Eliza humored taking a bath but settled for washing up at the sink instead. Her jeans were dark enough that the blood splatter was hardly visible, even under the bright light of the bathroom’s vanity. The worst people would assume was that she was wearing her paint pants. Between that and the new shirt, she’d be fine to uber out. As nice as things were, as much as her muscles ached and that fancy-ass jacuzzi tub looked inviting, there was a patina of creep that she couldn’t quite shake. She was not getting naked in a dubiously monstrous acquaintance's house if she could help it. Miracle arm be damned.

When she emerged from the bath she found a florid, hand-written letter had been set on the dresser in the spare shirt’s place.

Eliza,

You will find your bag in the foyer. 

Inside you will see that I have gifted you a set of keys to this house. Silver for the front door, gold for the cherry room. In the future you are welcome to stay here whenever the need arises, I only require you to provide reasonable notice before your arrival. I’ve had my contact information added to your cell phone, for ease of communication.

You will notice most doors in this house are locked. They are to remain locked.

The first floor fridge is stocked. Take what you like.

The day is yours to do what you will.

I strongly advise you to meet me in my office this evening to assure your arm is in working order.

Warmly,

A.S.

Eliza read the letter over several times, a creeping headache making what she read even more difficult to absorb.

Bag, keys, cell phone, locks, what you like, what you will, you will, you will, you will–

She could feel a familiar pit form deep in her gut.

A floorboard creaked outside the bedroom door, saving her from what threatened to be a pretty intense anxiety spiral. It was a bit disarming, actually, how acutely she was able to focus in on the footsteps- tracking them as they trailed up what sounded like a third flight of stairs. Snatching up her shoes, she hurried out of her room and after the passerby. “Anatol–?”

The door at the top of the steps shut right as she rounded the corner, the definite clunk of a deadbolt sliding home drawing a clear boundary.

Doors are to remain locked.

Eliza took a step back. Closed her eyes. Drew in a steadying breath.

The image of a young woman wandering lost through the halls of a massive estate flickered into her minds eye, quickly followed by that of a blood drained corpse.

You know what, sure.

Fine.

I don’t care.

Keep your fucking secrets, you uptight freak.

She hiked downstairs.

As promised, her bag was waiting for her in the foyer. 

She fished her phone out, and to her mild appreciation it was fully charged.

What she appreciated less was the small flurry of notifications she was greeted with as her phone finished booting up.

Six missed calls from “Maw”.

Thirteen unread messages from “Maw”

Two new voicemails from “Maw”

One new message from A.S.

One missed call from Omar.

Cursing under her breath she shot Omar a quick message– “hey sorry, slept through alarm. Omw asap. Eta like 20ish.” –before punching the coordinates of the coffee shop where she had planned a catchup with her former mentee.

Eliza had only known Omar for a semester but they had become fast friends. They had similar rotating interests–her with her various crafts and him with his figurine warpainting and cosplay. All which helped stoke their conversations past the spark of their respective social anxieties and into a steady ember of a relationship. 

With the uber ordered she hucked her phone back in her bag. Catching up with the world was a problem for future Eliza. Current Eliza felt pretty solidly excused to browse for snacks while she waited for her ride in a suspended state of denial. The kitchen was pristine–stainless steel and impeccably polished marble made up the majority of the surface area. The food was tucked out of sight in the fridge and pantry–not a terribly robust selection but all the staples were there. Fresh fruit and veg, crackers and cheese. She had a ziplock loaded up before heading out. 

It was a blissfully silent ride to the cafe. Fifteen minutes of quietly pecking away at her makeshift brunch while she triple-checked everything in her bag. As promised everything she had brought with her to the shop was there with a couple additions. A new set of keys, a black paper folder stamped with the university letterhead. Looking closer, she puzzled together it was employee onboarding paperwork for a position as co-supervisor within the university theater department.

She let it fall from her hands back into the bag.

That same pit returned, gnawing a hole in her stomach. Anxious, half-formed thoughts buzzed around the worrywound like flies on a carcass.

The uber dropped her off at the cafe and she gathered herself along with her things.

Future Eliza. Not present.

Not now. Later.

Present.

Later.

Omar was in their usual spot in the back of the shop. It was relatively empty, a smattering of lonesome regulars with no holiday plans drinking holiday themed beverages. Eliza crumpled into the seat across from Omar. There was a black coffee already waiting for her–a sweet gesture, a default of his when he knew she was having a rough day. Any other day it would have lifted her spirits. Today however, the order on her behalf only worsened her feeling of being handled.

“...you doing alright there?” Omar asked between sips of coffee. He already had his laptop out as well as a mess of notebooks. Campaign planning, as always with this sort of hangout. Eliza was pretty sure he took his sessions more seriously than his coursework.

She tested the temp of her coffee. Still hot–perfect timing. “I will be. Just shop bullshit ate into my evening which then ate into my morning. And now I’m here.”

Omar gave her a long, measured look. One that eventually rested on her sling. “An accident?”

“Small one. Nothing serious…” Eliza trailed as she looked past Omar, through the front window at a small group gathered around one of the many pianos that populated downtown Fairhaven. There were probably around a dozen of them, never quite in tune but always popular when the weather was nice enough for them to be uncovered. The one parked outside the cafe in the ped mall however was strategically placed beneath an overhang so it was free to use year round. She couldn’t hear what was being played from inside the cafe, but it looked like folks were singing so she assumed a carol.

Absentminded, her new fingers drummed along with an imaginary time signature. 

“...Eliza?”

She snapped her attention back to Omar. “Sorry. Really, I’m okay. I sprained my elbow moving leftover scrap from strike to the dumpsters. It’s already feeling a lot better, dunno if the sling is necessary to be honest.”

“Well, that’s good I guess. Last thing you need is to be in recovery over the holidays.” He offered a reserved smile, one which pinned his concern with a bite of his lip. “If anything it’s a nice excuse to give your mom, with a little embellishment.”

Eliza snorted into her coffee. “I’ll tell her my arm was ripped off and they wouldn’t let the new one through customs.”

“A medical miracle.” Omar added with faux awe as he turned back to his notebook. He was filling out stat blocks. “Any text of hers you answer is an undisputed feat of heroism. Best child, 2014.”

“Honestly though.” Eliza set her coffee down and began rifling through her bag, setting up her laptop. The onboarding packet still sat at the top of the bundle, almost accusatory as she began browsing around her Steam library for a distraction.

They pecked away at their parallel activities for a short while, nursing now lukewarm mugs as they spared each other the occasional anticipatory glance. Too much on the mind, tongue’s got tied, the mantra oft muttered by her mother spun circles around Eliza’s head until she finally broke the fragile silence with a sigh. “Hey. Can I ask your advice on something?”

Omar didn’t take his nose out of his 5e corebook. “Go for it.”

“So…” Eliza trailed as she set the packet on the stack of notebooks between them, flipping it open to the contract packet. “I was offered a job with the university. Kinda suddenly. And, I dunno, I just need someone to sound off on this because, I dunno–”

“Oh shit. Congrats? I guess–?”

“–thanks yeah–”

“–where? Like what department?”

“Oh I’d be staying in the shop.” Eliza set her now empty coffee mug onto a nearby empty table and scooted her chair closer to Omar’s as she leafed through the paperwork. “Mr. Stamatin offered me a co-super position.”

“...Mr. Stamatin?” It took a moment for the name to register, Omar’s brow furrowing before his eyes widened with a mild shock. “Wait, tall blondie?”

“Tall blondie.” Eliza confirmed, not looking up from the folder, “And yeah I was as surprised as you are.”

Omar pulled a few pages from the stack, skimming through them. “Did he talk to you at least? Or did you just come in and find this waiting for you at the paint station?”

“No. We talked last night. Not about this specifically but–after the sprang, he helped get me some ice and we chatted a bit.”

Omar frowned. “About what?”

You swear to keep what occurred tonight as a secret between us. On your life.

“I don’t know just general stuff.” Eliza shifted in her seat, rolling the new shoulder which clicked out and back into its socket with a satisfying, muted clunk of cartilage sliding home. “He had some nice things to say about my Endgame set, then we kinda just… yeah, I don’t know. Got to know each other a little bit. It wasn’t like a job interview or anything, just shooting the shit. Then before I left he was like, “hey, wait!” and gave me this.”

“That’s… weird.” Omar’s expression didn’t lighten as he read further into the contract. “Did you at least get any good gossip?”

“He has family in town. His first name’s Anatol. Used to work as a RN before going full time into woodcrafting, he didn’t say it out right but he mentioned having similarly… involved parents. So we connected over that.” It felt bad, lying to a friend. But such patter was second nature to her, also she doubted Omar cared about the particulars beyond how they impacted her. And as long as that impact wasn’t visibly fucked… “I haven’t ever seen a co-super in the shop in my time here, which is weird, but also knowing him it could be because he’s picky?”

“You’d be starting immediately, looks like.” Omar didn’t appear to clock the lie, his focus narrowing further and further down the pages in front of him. But he didn’t look particularly thrilled, either. “And the pay is…”

“Oh, I haven't even looked at that yet. I assumed it’d be like, minimum wage underpaid helper monkey shit.”

“Opposite.”

“Opposite?”

Omar nodded. “As in, so high it looks fake as fuck.”

“Gimme that.” Eliza took the packet from him, eyes shooting down to the bottom where the salary breakdown was. Salary? I’d be Salaried? 150k. Flat. She stared down at the number, her brain refusing to process it and her heart was skipping its way up into her throat. “What the fuck this is football coach money.”

“Yeah.” Omar leaned over her shoulder to continue staring at the insane number. Everything else on the sheet looked officially tailored–there was even signatures from the department head. "So he just plopped this into your lap? No other admin present, just him?”

“Yep.”

“Jesus Christ.” He leaned back into his seat, staring up at the ceiling. Deep in thought. “I don’t know. I'm sorry to ask but-did something, like, happen? Between you two? Last night?”

“No! I literally just told you everything I know.” Eliza shoved the papers back into the folder. The way Omar was looking at the folder… the way he was looking at her… the panic spiral once again knocked at the edge of her consciousness. But unlike in the past it wasn’t just background anxiety. She found herself resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder, checking for his presence that she very much felt teasing at the edges of her awareness. He’s not here, and even if he was– I’m fine. It’s fine. I haven’t said shit. “Look, I thought it was weird as hell too. It’s weird. It’s weird! I know that! But no it’s not like an NDA thing. He didn’t like– no, it’s not like that. Nothing, genuinely, really, happened. Maybe he felt kinda guilty for keeping me late, and because of the arm thing. Again, I don’t know. I…”

Omar remained quiet as she squirreled the folder away, when she grabbed her mug off the neighboring table and tried to drink the coffee she had forgotten she had finished. Then, embarrassed as she clutched the empty mug in her lap, he cleared his throat. “Look. I’m not going to tell you what to do. But if I were in your shoes I’d probably wait until the dean or something weighs in.”

“I’m not stupid Omar.”

“I know you’re not.” He caught her gaze and offered her a soft smile. Pulling back from the nerve he just toed. “This is your decision. And you know more than I do. So if you disagree, disagree. And if you change your mind later– or even just need somebody to bitch about your new boss to… I’ll be here.”

Eliza gripped the mug tighter and closed her eyes. Drew in a steadying breath. Willed the vortex of paranoia to calm. “...thank you Omar.”

“Not a problem.” He began packing his own bag, "You’ve helped me a lot this semester– I’m more than happy to return the favor.”

It wasn’t long before they were all gathered and out the cafe door. The group from earlier had cleared from the piano, a light dusting of snow already filling in the space where the previous player had been sitting. Omar drifted over, running a hand across the keys. “You play?”

“Nah.” Eliza chirped, leaning against the side of the instrument. Despite the protection of the awning, the piano’s top panel was weather-worn. Definitely in need of another round of finish. “You?”

“Lessons through middle school but… I’m a bit rusty. Don’t know any carols though.” He set his bag down and slid onto the bench, then patted the empty space next to him. “Wanna play chopsticks with me?”

“Like fuck I do.” Eliza hopped in next to him, flexing her good hand before resting it on one of the sharp keys. “Tell me when.”

Omar gently guided her hand to the correct key before resting his next to hers, atop its companion. “Okay… 3, 2, 1–when.”

They stumbled through the first few measures, only roughly keeping in time with each other. Snickers breaking out as they stumbled further and further out of sync until what they were playing was completely unintelligible. Eventually Omar dramatically collapsed across the keys in a cacophony, laughing, “I told you I’m rusty!!”

“You’re not bad! You’re not bad!” Eliza rolled her shoulder again–it was getting uncomfortable, stuck bent in the sling the way it was. At this point most of the new nerves were alight and communicating the basics–pressure, dim texture, the slight nip of the winter air and the dampness of sweat bolstering it at the bent crook of her elbow. She flexed her new hand experimentally. “Here… I’ll show you rusty.”

“Are you s–” Omar cut himself off as she discarded the sling. He knew better than to retread those waters so soon. 

“It’s feeling a lot better.” She assured him as she stretched her arm, flexed her fingers before resting them on the keys. Outside of the static pinpricks of the waking limb, she could hold her hand comfortably, letting it drift across the keys until settling on a spot that felt right. However this time, it wasn’t chopsticks that she played. Instead, her fingers fluidly drummed out disassociated triplets. No particular time, or anything outside of different sets of complementary notes alighting the keys. A looping, meandering tune that would peter out whenever she attempted to push forward, the next notes evaporating the second she reached for them. 

“...what are you trying to play?” Omar, having pulled back from the keys, watched as Eliza ran through the same handful of measures again and again.

Eventually she stopped with a huff. “I don’t know. Feels familiar but I don’t know.”

“Hang on.” Omar pulled out his phone, flipping through apps before pulling up a generic music finder. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough but– play that again, just once.”

She did as instructed, and after a little bit of buffering…

“La Campanella? That right a bell?”

Eliza snorted. “No.”

“Huh… it might because we’re only getting half of it. Could you try it with both hands?”

“Uh…” Eliza set her good hand on the keys, where it sunk into the ivories like a dead weight. With each delicate call of the left was a clumsy guess at a response from the right. This time around the app wasn’t able to generate any results at all. Gibberish.

“Maybe we don’t have enough of it to get an accurate result.” He poked around the suggestions for a bit before giving up. “Whatever it was, it sounds good! I thought you didn't know how to play piano?”

“I… didn’t know. I don't know. Maybe what little I've played is beginning to catch up with me.” Eliza trailed off, turning the new hand over. It was a dead-ringer of the old one, at least visually. But as Anatol had warned it certainly didn’t feel identical to the old one… or at least as much of the old one she could still remember. It had been less than a day but already everything from the night before felt a lifetime away. 

“Maybe it’s something you can pick up.” Omar suggested as he stood.

Eliza drummed out the measures another couple of times. Try as she might, her mind could not catch up with her hands. Each pass she took at it felt like eating with a cavity–the more she chewed, the worse the pain became until the lack rang through her skull in a persistent ache.

The smell of wet, hot iron and sawdust descended upon her. Like a gust of winter chill, the sense memory went as quickly as it came.

“It’s originator gave it to me freely. No mutiny from this one.”

Giving up, she checked the time on her phone.

4:45.

Time to kill.

“Maybe. I dunno.” Folding the sling into her bag, she offered Omar a tired smile. It wasn’t too convincing. All these knots growing in her gut were starting to feel like tumors. “To be frank, I’ve got enough going on. It’s Christmas. I can save learning Greensleeves for the next go-around.”

Last Chapter - Ao3 - Next Chapter

[ask-la-squadra]

forgot where i left off oops ^_^; but to start off, cryogenic temperatures are defined as temperatures below 123 kelvin (i will be measuring in kelvin because absolute zero (where all molecules are still) is measured as 0, so it's easier to measure cryogenic temperatures that way). "cryogens" are defined as fluids with boiling points below 123 kelvin.

helium is the cryogen with the lowest boiling point of 4.25 kelvin and is also not able to freeze at normal pressure levels. this means it does not have a triple point (where solid, liquid, and vapor co-exist) and it can only be solid at a pressure of 25.3 bars.

when helium is cooled to 4.25 kelvin it becomes liquid helium. when liquid helium is cooled to 2.17 kelvin (the lambda point) it becomes superfluid (it is called the lambda point because when pictured on a graph of heat capacity as a function to temperature, it looks like the greek letter lambda)

superfluid is a state of matter basically exclusive to helium and it is *awesome*. it exhibits zero viscosity and large thermal conductivity. there are also four mechanical properties of helium:

- thermomechanical effect

- mechanocaloric effect

- fountain effect

- rollin effect (yes, spelt "rollin")

the rollin effect is the only one i can explain without a diagram. when a test tube is lowered into a liquid helium bath, the helium will "creep" up the test tube and into the test tube. when the test tube is raised above the liquid helium bath, it is emptied out slowly. this makes containment of liquid helium difficult. the ability of superfluid to flow against gravity is called the onnes effect.

liquid helium is used for the NMR (nuclear magnetic resonance, it is used to study molecular structure), and the MRI. it is also used in some maglev trains.

if u have any questions feel free to ask. i have a lot to share about cryogenics and i think some things would be useful to know because white album!! hope u thought this was interesting or helpful ^_^

wait this is actually quite useful, i will have to take advantage of some of these for white album, do you have more ideas of how i could use this with my stand

-Ghiaccio

(mod - love you nerds omg this is so cool)

[l0velace]

MÆRA

《Incubation in 3..2..1..》

*krxh* "Dont you fret hun, i know its daunting down there in that chamber but we're up here with sweaty palms too. Now the fluid is breathable and full of that sweet ambrosia so go ahead and take a breath, relax, and drift away" *khp*

She's right its always a crapshoot isnt it tryn sumthn new nd honestly this fluid hasnt even reached my mouth and i already feel better, less tense, floaty like a salt bath if it were the color and viscosity of dirty engine oil..

Smells sweet, almost like rot but in a medicinal way... ambrosia huh, hear goes... tastes like fruit juice on my knee... not that hard to move through my lungs actually, i wonder how lon....

■

"Slipped right past hypnogogia... hope that ain't the case on the flipside. Lower the serum dosage 20%."

"Yessir, entering stage 3......stage 4..... cresting, begining reentry, stage 3"

"Drop another 20. Shit boy slow down. He lied to you Doc."

"It would seem so."

"No drug use my ass."

"We've reached hypnopompia sir."

"Atonia?"

"Yessir!"

"Hot Dog!"

■

Fuck, fuck why can't i talk? Shit somethings wrong w the fluid i cant move! What is-

"Hey sugar, i imagine you might be feelin' like a corpse in a casket right about now..."

No fucking shit! I fucked up!

"Like there's six feet of soil between you and sunlight..."

FucK! Im so dead...goddamnit!

"I'm gonna need you to start diggin' kid. I need you to take all the hypervigilance u can squeeze outta your adrenals and push out..."

They've been doin a lil overtime sorry!...shit come on! Pleaasssse

"Focus on the edges of your vision and try to see past all that filth in the pit."

Yah focus on the tears welling up. Great.

I wish i could do something other than freaking out. Fuck i didnt think a dark room could spin this much. Dont hurl. No hurling. Pleass God.

Wait how did Jacinta get in my-

Woah im outside.... That ridgeline its the Salspar Escarpment...

"There you go, Youre a natural kiddo! Now walk toward the escarpment keep your eyes on Salvor's Peak."

I can do that... heh mom always said i needed direction guess i got one. East by Southeast. Honestly one of the better directions westerly spring winds and the rings of Cathaş blaze violet in the afternoon sun. Oh fuck almost tripped that would have been embarassing Jacinta would hav- Why do my feet look so weird and my legs i look lik afucking bug! FUCK oh god wheres my dick?! Wheres my SkIN! FUCKFUKfuckFug I cant feel anything why didnt my knees hurt when i fell? My hands are tearing into my thigh but i cant feel it FUck im bleeding fuCk its everywhr fuck i-

■

"heyy kid how ya feeln?", Jacinta whispers.

She lightly brushes the hair out of my face. Her weight is flushing the mattress so that the side of my hip is pressed into hers. She clasps her hand to my forehead then my feels my quickly flushing face. The evening light leaking in through the shuttered windows lights her black hair to amber. She gives me a crooked smile.

"You're burnin up buddy. We gotta get some fluids in you..."

She turns to a small table behind her, her messy plait spills over her shoulder and swishes over the bare small of her back. The rattle of paper on board heralds

"Petragua or citralyte?"

I absently nod to the petragua and she replaces the other and proffers my mouth a straw.

Why am i always so... behind. Its like im in slow motion...always just barely responding...

She gazes down at me warmly as i suck down the plum-apricot-chem slurry. The infusion perks me up a bit.

"Alright now don't drain it dry. Don't want it coming back up all over my vest."

She pulls it from my lips and i eek a short and quiet sucking sound that manages a full 5 seconds of embarrassment even though the sound was .3 seconds long.

"Ill be real with ya. You did great..exceptional even! Most of the time we dont even get to a stroll the first time we just... well its a whole lot more work on my end than what happened with you so i just wanted to say... im proud of you."

She squeezes my shoulder and flashes me a big deep blue smile.

"I know all this been hard on you and you've put in a lot of work before you even got in the pit and it payed off."

She picks up the petragua again and hangs it in the air for a second.

"To your dreams...or better yet your nightmares."

She sips some of it then positions it back towards me again. I slurp with even more energy this time.

"Having such a strong liminal drive link seams to really make a difference. Honestly i think you two should meet but we have to get clearance pfft its bullshit. How are you supposed to pilot together if you don't even know eachother? How are we supposed to figure out what this spark is that makes the liminal drive work if we never get to observe you interactin' in a controlled manner? I swear im gonna have a word-"

*slurpppppp* she pulls it from my face.

"Oh listen to me blatherin' on, you only got 18 hours til you're on duty again. You can head back to your room whenever. Ill see you then ok? I just wanted to check in on you."

She finishes donning her vest and clacks and jingles out the door with her plait fishtailing behind her.

[elmalo8291]

A towering, two-story steampunk chocolate synthesis engine in the heart of a surreal food laboratory. The structure is copper and glass, shaped like a giant vertical vat surrounded by swirling pipes and glowing syrup tubes. At the base, a ring of brass levers labeled with emotions—joy, sorrow, mischief, desire—feeds into the core. Pulsing light travels through wires into the chocolate vat, which glows with rich swirls of cocoa and sparkle dust. A suspended walkway circles the upper level, where lab coats and chefs monitor viscosity and swirl patterns. The entire chamber is bathed in warm amber light, with foggy milk vapor drifting along the floor. In the background: stained-glass windows shaped like cacao beans and musical note motifs. The mood: whimsical, scientific, and poetic.

[prasad213]

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