#WordyWednesday

Tree calf: A binding style, popular from the 1770s until the late 1920s, where calfskin leather would be treated with chemicals (ferrous sulfate and potassium carbonate) to form a distinctive branching pattern like a tree or a tree trunk. The result is pretty but also risky: if the leather was not thoroughly washed once the pattern had been burned into it, the ferrous sulfate would continue to eat into the leather until it was eventually ruined.

finally torrent

He survived glaze firing, the wick and oil reserve work perfectly as intended, and now he remains in chains, offering light.

Sketches

the city where we live doesn't allow public barbecues so my brother fucking welded a grill to a handcart and now hosts "chill and grill sessions" where he sends all his friends his live location so they can hunt him down on their bikes with sausages in their backpacks while he carts it around evading the police like some sort of barbecue vigilante, grilling on the run. i have never been prouder of him

05.06 - Black Blade

Obsolete Manipulator, Dragon Reactor, Winfrith, 2023

Gas Circulator, Advanced Gas-Cooled Reactor, Torness, 2023

Refuelling Cavity, Reactor Sizewell B, No 2, 2023

Window No 10, Irradiated Fuel Cave Dounreay Prototype Fast Reactor, 2023

Pile Cap Detail, Reactor 2, Dungeness A, No 1, 2022

The Nuclear Sublime photographs by Michael Collins published by RRB Photobooks, Bristol, UK 'Documenting infrastructure spanning a period of seven decades, the photographs in The Nuclear Sublime depict the present state and future of Britain’s nuclear industry— usually hidden from public view' image credits: Michael Collins via: The Guardian

Rhapsody of Northern Lights (x x x x x)

Northern Lights

l May 2024 l Andrew McCarthy l Logan Parham l Shane Ware l Joseph Alsousou l Neil Thomas l Greg Sheard l Sebastian Voltmer l TheSolarCan

seagull on the roof. source

thinking about the video where a bunch of guys get together to un-corrupt a blastoise that got bad egged years ago in a leafgreen game and how that whole scenario is like. the loving side of cosmic horror. you are a blastoise. you trust your trainer. you've been through countless battles together, and while they never say anything, you can tell your trainer loves you. what you don't know is that your trainer is, at all times, being puppeted by intelligent forces outside of your dimension, holding knowledge far beyond the scope of anything you could ever know. they know things about your world that you do not; that nobody in your world ever could. the distinction between your trainer and this creature is minimal. at the same time, this creature is not god. it does not have infinite knowledge; it understands far greater than you, yet in still a very limited capacity. they understand what your world is made up of and how it can be manipulated to fit your whims. this creature loves you. your trainer loves you. they love you so much that they want to help you become stronger. they manipulate the very laws of your world to attain this feat. however, they did it wrong. they didn't know what they were doing, and the makeup of your being- everything you ARE- was twisted. you are no longer a blastoise. you are a bad egg. your trainer remains the same as ever. everything continues on, the same as it ever was, yet you cannot be what you once were. your trainer tries over, and over, and OVER again to hatch you, but you never become what you once were. you are a bad egg. there are other bad eggs now, other pokemon you used to know; pokemon you helped your trainer catch, pokemon you may have even fought alongside. now you're all bad eggs, sealed away by ancient protective magic known as Code. you never knew such a thing existed. you wonder if you're dangerous now. your trainer sets you in a box. over the years, he forgets which box you're in. unbeknownst to you, the creature is panicking, trying everything it can possibly think of to restore you to your blastoise state. the creature is just a child. he carries the pain of your loss long into adulthood; in his mind, he is responsible for your death. in the grand scheme of the universe, you do not matter; you're a "game". a few lines of code and some pixels. you do not Exist. and yet, you are mourned. and yet many others just like you are mourned by many others just like him. the world has been still for many, many years. you don't know this, because your world does not contain an internal clock. time doesn't really exist for you; it's a concept far outside of your reality. and yet, it is important. your creature contacts another of its kind. it shares the story of its sin, the insignificant act of corrupting you beyond repair. it shares this story in hopes that it could save you. the other creature recalls its own destruction of a world not unlike yours. it agrees to help. many creatures within the world outside of yours have gathered all together, using technologies familiar and unfamiliar with one collective goal in mind: to rescue you. specifically you. your loss is widely considered nothing. and yet, they put in incredible effort. obstacle after obstacle, they perform miracles for your sake. they copy your world; they use strange windows to view it, they layer your world over itself many times over to view it from every angle. they dig deep into the very makeup of your universe just trying to find you. one of them uses a method that only he has access to, in all the world, to find you. and they do. you have lost your name and everything else that makes you you, but there is something that remains in tact, that makes you findable; a piece of "data", an invisible quality to you that you and your trainer would never see, something you could never possibly know about. this is what ultimately makes you you, and not another blastoise. slowly but surely, they begin to put you back together. it's much harder than it needs to be, it is far too much effort for one

creature in one game that will never be touched again, and yet they do it. they race against the clock, stressing endlessly, sweating bullets and crying out in relief when they finally find the exact values, the last pieces of invisible quality that makes it YOU. you are now a blastoise. you are now "legitimate" to the game. you do not know it yet, but your trainer - your creature - is waiting for you, excited to Transfer you into new worlds until you are where he wants you. until you are safe. you also do not know that at this time, two of you exist. there is the You, here, being put together, manipulated through the fabrics of reality to restore your original form. and there is the Original you; the one waiting home, on the cartridge. the Real you. you are a clone, but you are not. you are a new pokemon, but you are the original. you are both corrupted, and legitimate. you are many things. the new you is saved, and this version of your world- this version that has fixed you, and only you- is re-uploaded, overlayed and overwritten to the original. you safely arrive. You are a blastoise. You were a bad egg, for a short time. But now you are a blastoise again. your trainer acts the same as ever, because he cannot display anything that would suggest he notices the difference. you do not know what happened. you have no idea. you have no idea how much you are loved.

I’ll just leave this here....

So. Today in class we assigned Macbeth roles to students to read. When I asked the class who wants to be Lady Macbeth, a young man raised his hand. I kind of stared at him like “Lady Macbeth,” and he nodded like “I know what I’m about ma’am.” So then the student who ended up as Macbeth raised his hand and said “HE’S THE ONE, HE’S MY WIFE!” So I said “yeah sure why not,” and the entire class period they were blowing kisses to each other and winking at each other, and every now and then Macbeth would say “I’m the luckiest man on Earth” and Lady Macbeth would put a hand to his chest, and be like “BABE!”.

I just stared at them, knowing that they CLEARLY have never read ‘Macbeth’ before, so… all this lovey dovey… I don’t know if I have the heart to tell them the truth.

Update:

THIS is what “boys will be boys” ACTUALLY means

“. . .”

(headcanon) Part 1 Part2