#Brass Nut Bolts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

multiwreckedmess · 2 years ago

Text

February Filth Fest - Day 16

Pairing: Jongho x fem!Reader Prompt: Sadism WC: 2.1k Summary: TW/CW: DEAD DOVE DO NOT READ FFS aged up, mafia/gang, gunplay, knifeplay, slapping, spanking, object penetration, aftercare. this one is going to be rough and for sure i’m not going to be able to tw/cw it all. It’s DARK. it’s sadism. I have additional notes/spoil it at the beginning under the cut for those interested.

SPOILER: At the end this is revealed to be a scene between two consenting adults making it more cnc than straight up nc. that said the set up for this is not shown, only the aftercare. scenes like this require setup and trust between the parties that isn’t fun or sexy to write out as a one-shot fanfic.

“Are you afraid?” Jongho leans back in his chair, legs up on his desk casually. You sit opposite him, hands and feet tied to a metal folding chair, jaw set and staring defiantly at him. Your eye twitches. “I’d understand if you were scared. You’ve certainly gotten yourself into a predicament.”

He’d been meticulously cleaning his revolver for the past hour, stripping down almost to nuts and bolts to delicately scrub each nook and cranny with a tiny hard bristle brush. Glasses perched on the end of his nose, occasionally glancing your way. Neither of you speaking, locked into a cold war.

“I assume you know why I had my men so rudely pulled you from your sheets at this hour?” He spins the unloaded barrel, flicking his wrist casually to lock it in place. Aiming at you from between his spit-shined Chelsea boots he mock fires the gun, recoiling with a smirk. You suck your cheeks in, unflinching. It’s not that you’re unaware of your extremely precarious position, dragged to the boss’s office at an ungodly hour wearing only your silk slip, slippers having been promptly removed by force at the door. You are acutely aware of the ledge at which you are perched. It’s that you can’t do anything about it. Your eyes hollowed from interrupted sleep you’ve totally dissociated.

You’ve totally dissociated and Jongho is not happy about it. His smirk fades to a sneer. “Certainly you didn’t think you’d get anywhere in the organization sleeping around my circle of underlings? Loose lips for a loose woman?” His cackle cracks like a whip through the cold atmosphere. “Dollface, don’t you think I’ve got surveillance on all my men? From my personal guards to the lowliest dishwasher. I knew about you the second you got your assignment.”

You’d agreed to be a test case in a new tactic for your department. The thought was frequently the lowest rung of the organization knew more about the true goings-on than the top brass. Janitors, servers, housekeepers, etc. anyone who might not directly deal with the dirty side of the business but certainly would be taking care of the people who did. The underpaid, overworked class of workers. By collecting your intel via friendships and relationships and tangential associations to these people you could stay under the radar longer than climbing the ladder, at least was the theory.

Stalking your chair like a predator you can feel the heat of his gaze scanning you from bedhead to pedicured toe. Resting his revolver on your shoulder he casually leans down, aiming down the barrel at his chair. The sharp click of the hammer in your ear makes you flinch nearly microscopically. His breath on the back of your neck you can sense his silent laughter. “Very cute.”

“You’re not going to kill me.” You stare straight forward, dispassionate, direct. “So cut the dumb shit mind games.”

He steps back from you, almost offended. “You think the games are for you? Don’t you know some bears like to play with their food?”

“You’re not going to kill me,” you reiterate. Jongho sighs, running the barrel of his gun over your smooth skin, flicking the strap of your slip off your shoulder. “You’re right. I’m not. You got me there. I’m going to see how long it takes you to beg me to kill you.” Slowly he lowers his lips, kissing where your strap once lay with a sweet softness. “Alright doll?” You try to keep your heart rate steady, muscles relaxed. Keep your air of indifference as he completes his circle around you to sit on the edge of his desk. Pointed toe of his Chelsea boot secure under your chair he jerks the chair backwards, your head snapping forward bracing for an impact that never comes. A tiny yelp escapes your tensed lips, fingers wrapping around the poles supporting the backrest. as the front two legs of your chair hover in the air. Face burning with shame you can’t look up at him. You broke. You fucking broke and now he knew he could get at you. “I’m going to really enjoy our time together.” He slams the front legs back down harshly.

Casually Jongho reaches behind him, opening a top drawer and unrolling a soft leather wrap case. Unfurling it nearly covers his desk, small glittering silver tools catch what little light there is in the room. It’s clear he takes care of his things. It’s just there to scare you, you silently reassure yourself. “Aren’t you going to ask what I plan on doing to you?” He smirks, leaning over to the side to catch your eyes. “What’s the point, you’ll do it to me anyway.” He chuckles, “you’re smarter than you let on.” Placing the gun on the mat he pulls a small packet from a pouch and rips it open. An alcohol pad. Your eyes flick from the pad to the man as he approaches you, warm palms sliding the hem of your slip up your thighs. Methodically he swipes up and down your inner thighs all the way up to your exposed slit. “W-what are you doing?” “Ah so you ask now,” he tosses the spent sheet away. “Can’t have my playthings getting too dirty you know.”

The glint of a blade catches your eye. A 1950s replica stiletto switchblade. Silver and black and sleek. Jongho drags the point slowly over the freshly cleansed areas of your thighs. “What was your evaluation of me.” Tongue tied, focused on stilling your shaking legs you sit silently, breath caught in your throat. You’re ready to catch the yelp you think is sure to come, the anticipation of the sting almost worse than the actual act. It never happens. Jongho bites at your throat. The action catches you off guard and you moan, leaning into him. “Hm, interesting,” he mutters. “Trust that I already know everything you told your little piggies back at home-base. I mean, what is your evaluation of me?” Keeping the blade flat against your thigh, tip just barely pressed to the crease of your thigh and pelvis, his face is inches from yours. Your cunt leaks embarrassingly, betraying the beating in your chest. “You’re young. And fucking insane.” You nearly spit at him, teeth gnashing. Hand pinching your teeth the tip of the knife digs further into you. You hiss, chest rising and falling with each quickening breath, unable to hold it back any longer. “Is that really all?” He purrs. Challenging his gaze as best you can you don’t make any more to speak. Locked in a battle neither one of you wants to lose. The knife retracts suddenly, moaning as the blade glances your thigh. “I guess we’ll need to warm up those cute little lips of yours.” Jongho tosses the knife to the side, listening to it clatter and skitter away from you. Reaching behind he grabs the shiny revolver, placing the tip of the barrel between your pouted lips. “Suck it. Suck it or I break your teeth trying.” With a sneer you accept it into your mouth, the cool metal tangy on your tongue. Dropping his pinch at your cheeks he palms himself, working the barrel between your lips. Despite the cleaning it still smells like gunpowder and hot steel. Rolling your tongue around the barrel you treat it like a cock, letting him direct the strokes. “Just like that,” he presses the tip of the barrel to the inside of your cheek, pulling it taut, stretching your lips to the side. “See your mouth is useful for something.” He taps the bulge, leaving your cheek hot.

Unzipping his pants he strokes the outline of his shaft, pressed snugly to his hip. “Now where were we?” He pulls the gun from your lips, trail of spit connecting your lips and the barrel. “Warmup. That’s right.” Pulling your ass to the edge of the chair you can feel the trail of wetness sticky on your ass. Jongho slaps your swollen mound, thrilled to see your legs fight to close, blocked by the chair. Your eyes roll as you fight down any noise, determined to remain silent. Jongho nudges the barrel against your clit, the metal having cooled already from the heat of your mouth you shiver. “Just think, all those times you were fucking some underling for an unsatisfactory five minutes you could’ve just had me.” He pushes the barrel into your entrance. It’s unyielding and cold, your muscles clench down fighting the intrusion. “Ride it. Ride it or I fire it.” “You wouldn’t,” your eyes wide you stare at him. Slowly he drags the smooth barrel in your cunt. “From what you know of me, do you really think I wouldn’t? Who are you to me?” Chest heaving you do your best to roll your hips with his thrusts. Confusing arousal and fear tear at your insides, tears welling and spilling over. The ropes at your wrists and ankles rub uncomfortably against your skin, tugging and tense. Burning with shame you sob and cum all over his freshly cleaned magnum revolver. His open palm strikes your cheek with a hefty smack. “Did I say you could cum?” “N-no,” you hiccup through tears. “Hold it.” He props the gun inside you, finally leaving your side. Clenching down you try to fight the slick surface slipping from your walls. Your stomach flexing, brows furrowed, it slowly creeps from you. Legs desperately trying to push together to catch it you squirm and pull. The flat side of a blade slides between your ankle and the metal leg, easily slicing through the taut rope, letting your thighs slap together just in time.

You thought once you were freed of your ropes you’d fight more but your body sits lax in its spot, trembling and pliant. Too mentally exhausted to run you let Jongho move you into position over his desk, variety of implements shoved to one half to make room for you. “Tell me, my first question, what your evaluation of me was. Truthfully. The full thing.” The last defiant bone in your body shakes your head by force of will. “Fuck you.” Jongho sighs, hand wrapping around the hilt of the largest implement in his kit, a cleaver, perfectly polished.

The first smack of the flat of the blade to your ass you’re unprepared for. Squealing your thighs smash into the edge of the desk with a jump. He quickly follows with a volley of four more, counting out loud for you to hear. Biting your lip you fight moans, the sting of each hit setting every nerve alight. “I see why they sent you, fucking painslut.” Nose running, your knuckles go white gripping the wood. “Fine! Fucking kill me! Fuck you!” The flat of the blade comes down again with a hefty swack, forcing a racked sob from your chest. “Gonna cum from that?” Jongho taunts you, slapping your wet slit lightly. “Yes!” The admission has you shaking beneath him, humiliated. “Good. I’m going to count to 5. Then you can cum.” You gulp and brace. Slowly he counts each hit, your legs wobbling, the last sending you limp on the desk cumming around nothing, juices running down your thighs. Grunting Jongho pulls his cock from his boxers, pumping himself quickly as he shoots all over your collapsed body. “Fucking bitch, got my desk all dirty.” He pushes the side of your head to the desk. “Clean it up and we’ll try that question again in an hour.”

The door slams shut heavily and you close your eyes, curling into yourself on the desk. Listening to your own breathing you count down from ten slowly as you exhale. It’s your house. It’s your basement. It’s an antique desk you’d found only months before. The gun is a non-firing replica. The implements are dentists tools you’d bought from amazon. The knife had been ground down dull.

Cautiously the door swings back open. Soft footsteps. A bottle of blue Gatorade with a straw is placed quietly in front of you. Gentle swipes of a warm washcloth clean your raw ass followed by soothing cream. You adjust to the new quiet breathing in the room. Straining to hold yourself up and drink you feel Jongho slide behind you, arm providing support to your ribcage. “Was that okay?” Jongho helps the straw between your lips. “I didn’t- you weren’t really scared, right?” Your face and hair are a total mess as you intertwine your lean more heavily into him. “Can I put your robe on you?” Jongho offers, rubbing the fluffy fabric against your calf. You nod, warm thick fabric weighing you down cozily. “I love you.”

I almost skipped this one full on. I’ve been writing a lot of dom!idol and just felt like i couldn’t innovate on it and didn’t know what to do for Jongho. But that said i think it turned out okay?

Honestly i felt like i needed to write the aftercare for me just as much as the characters.

#jongho smut #ateez smut #jongho x fem!reader #ateez x fem!reader #february filth fest

166 notes · View notes

siyurikspakvariisis · 1 month ago

Text

#hala.txt

6 notes · View notes

dumb-hat · 8 months ago

Text

Tagged: Five Character Associations - Evander Winsome

Emotions:

Exhilaration Regret Spite Joy (so much joy) Grief (so much grief)

Colors:

Dusty tans and oranges Whites that are frankly irresponsibly pristine for this environment A practical gray A faded, rusty red A deep indigo, dark as night and not really his, but it's there just the same

Scents:

Brass, copper, steel; something metallic that you can't quite place. Bourbon Sandalwood Citrus Just a hint of jasmine. Huh. Must've snuck in with the indigo.

Objects:

A weapon; something small and collapsible, tucked away in hopes it won't see the light of day A small bag of nuts or dried berries for the road, just in case. A puzzling assemblage of bolts and nuts; something to be tucked into the palm of the hand and turned over endlessly between the fingers while deep in thought. A nice pair of boots. A dumb hat.

Body Language:

A shrug. Confident, non-committal, whatever works. A straight face. Cracking knuckles. A heaving sigh. An awkward, perplexed look and a scratch at the back of the head.

Aesthetics:

Lockpicks, cherished and well-loved (Play with matches if you think you need to play with matches) A tarnished compass and a faded map (Seek out the hidden places where the fire burns hot and bright) A worn and beaten flask (Find where the heat's unbearable and stay there if you have to) A stained shot glass on the sill of a broken window (And don't hurt anybody on your way up to the light) Half of an inspirational-but-rebellious quote carved into a public bench, forever unfinished (And stay alive; just stay alive)

Tagged by: @thefreelanceangel (Thanks!)

Tagging: I, uh... everyone. Just, like, everyone. Everyone do this. I think probably everyone already has, but maybe do it again? I dunno. I'm not your dad. I'm not your mom, either. I'm just your weird-but-well-meaning neighbor.

#tagged #tag #thing #tag thing #man look I'm bad and can't keep track of any of this #but thanks!#Really!#My disorganization doesn't mean I don't love doing these things.

13 notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 7 months ago

Text

The footsteps on the metal decking were so obviously familiar fine footwear, Virgil didn’t need to look up to know his eldest brother had finally returned. The fact they were accompanied by wet squelches and the tap of his brother’s cane only informed him further of Scott’s mood.

Not a good one.

Virgil sighed and with a final yank on the bolt to secure it, he pushed his goggles onto his forehead, no doubt adding to the grime already in his hair.

Looking over from under Number Four and her propellers, all he could see was that fine set of shoes standing in a puddle of water. The tempered brass end of the cane, an affectation that was only partly required by his brother and was more for show than anything else, tapped again impatiently and rather loudly on the deck plates.

“You’ve returned.”

“Obviously, Virgil.” The feet shifted. “Where exactly are you?”

“Under here.” His back was on wheels and with a shove, he slid out from under his little brother’s Thunderbird.

Blue eyes as crystal clear as the ocean they were currently floating in targeted him immediately.

Virgil couldn’t help but smile upside down at his brother. Scott was far too serious most of the time and his appearance and dress clearly illustrated that at the moment. Black top hat, deep blue waistcoat, equally deep red cravat, charcoal long coat over black pants and those fine black shoes.

Virgil felt positively grimy in his dirtied shirt, old breeches and worn boots. But then his work was of a different kind to that Scott had in New York.

“What did father say?”

“He did not approve. Claimed the risk was too high and the chance too small.”

Virgil frowned. “But John’s calculations were exact. We have to investigate. If there is land there, I am sure Alan could have made it.”

Scott shifted where he stood. “Yes, well, father disagrees.”

Virgil thinned his lips. Their father wasn’t here. Their father lived in a different world despite the man creating the infrastructure and funding the efforts of International Rescue, Virgil sometimes wondered if he actually understood what his sons experienced.

A sigh and he pushed himself up off the trolley and onto his feet. Several nuts and bolts clattered to the floor, prompting a sigh from his brother.

Virgil arched an eyebrow at him before bending over to pick up the metal pieces of submarine. As his brother shifted again, he was reminded of the squelch of his entrance. “What’s leaking?” More work most likely.

“I believe Eos has been gnawing on the airlock rubbers again.”

“Again? I only repaired them last week.”

“I’ll speak to John about it.”

“He’ll love that.” The pilot of Thunderbird Five, the great docking submarine they were currently standing on tended to ignore a lot of the ‘advice’ their eldest brother offered. Since they had lost young Alan, their master navigator had taken to locking himself away for long periods of time.

Virgil made a point of barging in on him as much as possible with his medic and ‘mancy excuses. John, of course, saw through all of them to what Virgil’s interruptions were – genuine worry.

Unfortunately, Scott was much more direct and arguments often happened between the two of them. Virgil found them stressful. Fortunately or unfortunately, his brothers knew that and would stop the moment he walked in.

But still…

“Are we going anyway?” Virgil eyed his brother.

Scott’s posture was always ramrod straight, but still he managed to gain a few thirtyseconds of an inch at that comment. “We leave at dusk.”

Damn. This was going to cause a rift the size of the Grand Canyon. Their father would be furious.

But Scott had no choice, Virgil agreed, Gordon was inconsolable and John was on the verge of losing his mind. They had to do this.

Scott’s eyes narrowed on Virgil as he grabbed a rag and wiped his hands.

A sigh. “We’re looking at least ten days travel time at Five’s top speed, give or take Cape Horn.” He knew where he would prefer to shove Cape Horn. “Best guess, I’d say a fortnight to the middle of nowhere.” He eyed his brother. “Any word from the colonial offices in the South Pacific?”

Scott’s gaze dipped. “Unfortunately, no. Neither by telegraph nor IR broadcast.”

“John has more balloons in the air.” It was a faint hope. The whole concept was a faint hope. But Virgil, like his brothers, refused to accept defeat. They would find Allie. “And the closer we get, we can launch One.” And Two. There was no way Virgil was being left out of this any more than John or Gordon for that matter.

Scott raised his head again. “If we find Three, do you think you can revive her?”

Virgil’s fingertips tingled at the thought. His affinity for mechanism had helped make this all possible. Hiram built the craft under the direction of their father, but Virgil tended them, kept them alive.

Sparks flickered at the ends of his fingers. “I will.”

Or die trying.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #nuttyfic reblog #steampunk au #where there be dragons au #au april

16 notes · View notes

doamarierose-honoka · 6 months ago

Text

Marvel has tapped “Star Trek: Picard” executive producer Terry Matalas to resurrect Vision, the synthezoid played by Paul Bettany, for a new, untitled Disney+ series set for 2026, Variety has learned exclusively. Bettany will return to the role and Matalas will serve as showrunner.

After Vision died at the hands of Thanos in 2018’s “Avengers: Infinity War,” he returned twice over in 2021’s “WandaVision,” first as a spectral creation by his beloved, Wanda Maximoff (Elizabeth Olsen), through magic powered by grief; then as a rebuilt, nuts-and-bolts android with a ghost white appearance and zero memory of his past life. When the two Visions battled in the “WandaVision” finale, Wanda’s Vision restored the ghost Vision’s memories, then Wanda allowed her Vision to fade from existence. The new show will take place after those events, as ghost Vision presumably explores his new purpose in life.

Marvel brought in Matalas after his work running Season 3 of “Star Trek: Picard” — which brought back the cast of “Star Trek: The Next Generation” to widespread acclaim, garnering Matalas a WGA award nomination for the 2023 series finale — greatly impressed the top brass at the studio. (Marvel chief Kevin Feige, an avowed Trekkie, even recently appeared with Matalas on a two-hour episode of the “Star Trek” podcast “Inglorious Treksperts.

An earlier version of a Vision series had been in development with “WandaVision” creator Jac Schaeffer, but Schaeffer’s attention turned to running a separate “WandaVision” spinoff, “Agatha All Along” with Kathryn Hahn, that is set to premiere in September.

With Matalas coming on board, this will be Marvel’s first new live-action series pickup in almost two years, representing a significant shift in how the company produces television for Disney+. Originally, Marvel adopted a features model, hiring head writers to create predetermined (and, often, already announced) shows, but assigning most leadership responsibilities to the directors and creative executives. Marvel’s head of streaming, television and animation Brad Winderbaum recently told Variety that, starting in 2022, the company began to shift to a more “traditional approach” to TV, with a lengthier development period and a return to hiring writer-producers to oversee the entire production as showrunners. The company is also rebranding its live-action TV output to Marvel Television and reducing the number of shows it makes to roughly two per year, down from as many as four.

Before “Picard,” Matalas was the creator and showrunner for the Syfy series “12 Monkeys” for Universal Cable Productions, which ran for four seasons. He also was the executive producer and showrunner of Season 4 of the CBS reboot of “MacGyver” and he’s written for “Nightflyers,” “Nikita,” “Terra Nova,” and “Star Trek: Enterprise.” He’s also restored multiple “Back to the Future” DeLoreans, which have appeared on “Jay Leno’s Garage,” Super Bowl commercials and the Academy Awards.

Matalas is represented by CAA and Anonymous Content

#marvel #marvel comics #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #marvel mcu #vision #vision series #star trek #star trek picard #paul bettany #white vision #terry matalas

10 notes · View notes

johannestevans · 2 years ago

Note

Hey there, long time listener first time caller,

One of the things I’ve loved for ages about your stories is how you’re able to impart a huge amount of characterisation very quickly through character voice and fun, effective shorthand. Within two paragraphs I have a strong sense of what one of your characters is about, even if there is naturally more depth to come. I’m able to buy into the basic nuts and bolts of how they think and who they are, and want to follow them through whatever they’re up to.

I’m trying my first stab at original fiction after writing fanfic for a good few years, and I’m finding a bit of trouble. While I’ve gotten alright (from what I’ve been told) at doing (ostensibly) engaging stuff with characters whose traits and characterisation is known by readers who are already up to speed on who XYZ is and who they broadly are, I’m finding that I’m having trouble introducing the lead characters effectively. What I’m doing either comes across as 1) didactic and heavy-handed, meaning the moment I’m using to demonstrate character feels out of place or 2) weak, meaning there’s not a strong sense of character as I’m launching into their adventure.

You always have such a strong characterisation in all of your stuff, whether long form or short, how do you do it?

Hey there, Anon!

I'm a strong believer in dialogue as one of the biggest things that establishes a character, and part of crafting good dialogue is creating unique and individual - especially contrasting and/or complementary - voices among your characters.

I've done a big in-depth guide to crafting unique dialogue that's about 8.5k that I think you might find useful - it's basically in the format of explanation, and then a bunch of questions to ask yourself to help you craft this stuff from scratch, so definitely don't feel you have to adhere or use the whole thing!

Have a scan through and see whatever is most useful to you:

(And as ever if you can't sub on Medium and you're out of free articles, just use an Incognito window.)

I'll repeat this rec list of good studies for dialogue from the article because these are all pieces that do great individual characters from the immediate intro:

I have a few absolute favourite media which I consider to have some extremely tight screenwriting and/or extremely strong character-led dialogue, and specifically very unique individual character voices, which are:

Cabin Pressure (Radio comedy. Comedy, 4 seasons between 2008 and 2012. Written by John Finnemore.)

The Great White Hype (Movie, 1996, dir. Richard Hudlin. Sports comedy.)

Deep Cover (Movie, 1992, dir. Bill Duke. Action thriller.)

Hustlers (Movie, 2019, dir. Lorene Scafaria. Comedy/drama.)

The Discworld Series by Terry Pratchett, particularly The Truth, Going Postal, and Lords and Ladies.

Jeeves and Wooster (TV Series, 4 series from 1990–1993, but I only really recommend S1 and S2, as S3–4 are much weaker. With that said, the whole series is very directly adapted from the Jeeves books by P.G. Wodehouse, so I would recommend those).

A lot of this is practice-based, though, and it sounds like you're on a really good track!

I know it doesn't feel like it, but when you're reading back through and you can immediately identify the problems in your own work and where it's not hitting in the way you want, that's a sign that you've already got the skills to analyse this stuff and see what does work!

Many artists have a keen sense of what makes good art in their field, and that means we have a good critical eye in other people's work to see what works and what doesn't - when we can turn it on our own work and immediately see the problem and what we want to change, that's half the battle.

If you're coming at this from a fanfic perspective, an exercise I might advise is to pick a few favourite characters that you've written in fandom, and basically strip them down to their absolute brass tacks.

Not their whole backstory or biography, but like... Take a character you've written again and again and again. Say you're transplanting them into a different AU to their base universe - so if they're normally characters from a cop show, but you were theoretically going to write them into a sci-fi universe on a space station, or a fantasy universe with dragons, or a historical AU set in the 1860s.

For that character, what traits are most important that they keep, and will have to be adapted to the new universe to keep them "the same" character? Aspects of their appearance, their voice, their class, their parents, their upbringing, their job, their style, their personality? What stays the same, and what will change?

And then think about how you'd introduce that character to the reader within that new universe - this is someone they know and love, but they're different now in many ways. When we put a character in an AU, in many ways when we bring them to the reader's gaze, we're reintroducing them - it's the same person they know and love, but it's also a stranger.

Crafting new and individual charcters and introducing them to a reader is the next step on from that!

#musings #writing

32 notes · View notes

legon751 · 1 year ago

Text

working on my dads christmas present

still waiting on some parts and a few more steps to finish, but im making progress

neck is black walnut that i finished with tung oil. mother of pearl inlays for the fret markers and just some basic copper nickel fret wire for the frets. the string ferrules are copper pop rivets that i pulled the stems out of. obviously, the resonator body is a snoopy lunchbox. the nut is a 5/16 bolt. im gonna install a piezo pickup with a walnut volume knob and add some round head brass screws for string guides. still debating cutting sound holes in the face since itll have the pickup. i really like the art and dont wanna screw it up too much.

pretty proud of how this is turning out given i did most of it with hand tools while watching tv

#snoopy #guitar

7 notes · View notes

brassfastenersmanufacturers · 7 months ago

Text

Know About Reliable Brass Fasteners Manufacturers in Jamnagar

GK Metals is the leading brass fasteners manufacturers in Jamnagar India. It provides DIN standard brass fasteners like brass nuts, bolts, screws, hex bolts, rivets, washers, brass anchors and more that is suitable for various industrial applications.

#brass fasteners manufacturers in jamnagar #brass nut bolt manufacturer in jamnagar #brass screw manufacturer in jamnagar #brass washer manufacturers jamnagar #brass anchor manufacturer in jamnagar #brass fasteners exporters #brass fasteners suppliers #brass fasteners #fasteners #brass nuts #brass bolts #brass screws #brass rivets #washers #brass anchors

0 notes

abookishdreamer · 5 months ago

Text

Character Intro: Ichnaea (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- The Hidden Goddess by the people of Olympius

Agapitós by Anytos

Age- 36 (immortal)

Location- Phrygia, Olympius

Personality- She's an introverted, quick, & clever goddess with an exceptional attention to detail. She's also very particular and analytical. She's married & is a new first time mom.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess except shapeshifting. As the goddess of tracking her other powers/abilities include invisibility (by way of camoflauge- which also includes becoming intangible, inaudible, & inodorous), psychometry, having supersonic eyesight, enhanced smell, being able to make objects & other beings invisible, and having limited prophectic visions.

Members of her immediate family includes her husband Anytos (Titan god of anonymity & secrets), her newborn baby daughter Phyge (goddess of escape), and her stepdaughter Despoina (goddess of the arcadian mysteries, frost, winter, & shadows).

Ichnaea lives with her husband & daughter at their lakehouse estate in the state of Phrygia. They have their own private lake, a sailboat, and a stone pavilion outside. Inside the house the color scheme is mint green, gray, cream, dusty rose, & forest green. The interior design is very rustic with stone flooring, many potted woodland plants, brushed brass & wood furniture pieces, leather and burlap furniture, a carved stone coffee table, framed black & white photographs on the walls, various mounted animal antlers, as well as decorative pottery pieces. There's also two guest bedrooms. In her bedroom, there's a co-sleeper for the baby.

A piece of jewelry Ichnaea always wears is a gold locket, which has a photo of her husband and baby.

She has quite the furry brood! There's two bernese mountain dogs named Bear and Duchess as well as three german shepherds named Bruno, Bolt, & Heidi.

Ichnaea starts out her mornings with a three mile jog and a swim in the lake. She'll sometimes have a session of tai chi.

A typical breakfast for her is a small bowl of cereal- her favorites being the Golly Grains vanilla spice & the Earthly Harvest raisin crunch with almondmilk. She also likes banana nut oatmeal (topped with peanut butter & dark chocolate chips), lightly buttered chia seed muffins, toasted whole wheat kalamata olive bagels spread with tzatziki cream cheese, and her husband's shakshuka.

Honeydew, kiwis, apples, bananas, figs, & apricots are her favorite fruits.

Ichnaea has always kept a low profile in the pantheon and public. She doesn't mind her status as a minor deity. Ichnaea just does her best to serve all beings in the realm, pay respect to the crown, and be there for those she cares about.

At home she prefers walking barefoot, but when outside, her preferred footwear are sandals & flats.

A go-to drink is her husband's homemade banana-olive juice. She also likes mineral water, limeade, mint tea, ginger ale, vanilla almondmilk, homemade honeydew-kale smoothies, lychee juice, cucumber & mint flavored botanical beer, orange juice, classic martinis, sparkling green sangrias, white wine, and peartinis. Her usuals from The Roasted Bean includes a large scorching hot dark roast coffee (with plenty of sugar) & an olympian sized iced green tea. She hasn't drunk coffee or alcohol since her pregnancy.

She's not on any social media websites, including the most popular one- Fatestagram.

Her favorite color is light green.

She keeps her straight shoulder length black hair in a low ponytail or tight bun. Ichnaea swears by the olive oil Glory's Crown hair products- the shampoo, conditioner, & hair gloss.

Ichnaea views her relationship with her husband as "The greatest love story ever whispered." Their love grew over time, starting up from when they met on the deserted Mt. Othrys at a small get together with other deities celebrating the anniversary of the end of the Titanomachy. She saved all the letters & love poems Anytos sent her during their correspondence while he was living in Colchis at the time. Ichnaea says that his serious and intense eyes remind her of embered coals. Ichnaea & Anytos were married in a small intimate ceremony in the woodlands. There were only twenty guests in attendance. She carried a bouquet of wildflowers & lilies and wore a pastel light green strapless silk ruffle dress. Her best friend Ioke (goddess of pursuit, tumult, & battle rout) was her maid of honor.

Her favorite frozen treat is pistachio ice cream. She also likes lime sorbet.

Ichnaea's relationship with her stepdaughter hasn't been so seemless. Despoina isn't outwardly disrespectful, but always maintains a certain emotional distance. Ichnaea considers it a treat if her stepdaughter utters more than five words to her. Recently, to get on Despoina's good side, Ichnaea gifted her the latest hardcover mystery novel (with splayed edges) written by Phoebe (Titaness of prophecy, the moon, radiant intellect, & mystery). The Silver Titaness signed the copy herself.

Her favorite desserts are pistachio baklava, key lime pie, and hummingbird cake.

The spinach & mandarin orange salad topped with dried cranberries, pomegranate seeds, toasted almonds, and sweet sesame seed dressing is her favorite thing to get at The Bread Box.

Ichnaea has been enjoying her journey into motherhood. She takes joy in all the little things- the sleepless nighs, the constant feedings and diaper changes, & counting the tiny breaths the baby inhales and exhales. Leto (Titaness of demurity & motherhood) did the maternity photoshoot as well as the birth announcement photoshoot. Ichnaea decided on a home birth with Gaia (goddess of the earth) being her midwife. Ioke was also there for support. After 18 hours of labor, Ichnaea pushed out the most perfect being she ever seen- a six pound baby girl with a thick mop of black hair, a snub nose, cherub cheeks, hazel brown eyes, and dark olive skin. She made Ioke Phyge's godmother, or noná.

She's exclusively breastfeeding & is currently on maternity leave from her job. Ichnaea made note of Phyge's milestones at an appointment with Paean (goddess of physicians) at nine and a half weeks old.

Before becoming pregnant with her daughter, Ichnaea worked in the country's defensive department in the SAR branch (search and rescue) alongside Soteria (goddess of safety). She also worked in Olympius' military department, becoming one of the few decorated & celebrated female snipers in the realm's history.

The alarming number of missing Athenians in Crete has been a real headscratcher for her.

In the pantheon she's also good friends with Lelantos (Lantos) (Titan god of the unseen, air, & hunting), Apheleia (goddess of simplicity), Nárkosi (goddess of sedation), Lethe (Titaness of forgetfulness, oblivion, & concealment), Damia (goddess of naturalness), Elais (goddess of oil), Dyssebeia (goddess of ungodliness & impiety), Limos (goddess of starvation & famine), Ptocheia (goddess of beggary), and Proioxis (goddess of attack, onrush, & battlefield pursuit). She's also friends with Lantos' wife Periboia.

Ichnaea was the official mentor to Britomartis (goddess of mountains, hunting, & fishing nets).

She's also fond of Lantos' daughter Aura (goddess of the breeze).

Ichnaea has traveled throughtout the country (mainly New Olympus) to see her friends.

Her and Ioke has been in attendance to the Olympian Grand Prix, the most popular & exclusive motor racing event in the entire realm!

She even visited Nárkosi at the commune she lives in with Pan (god of the wild, satyrs, shepherds, & rustic music).

For Christmas, Ioke gifted Ichnaea with the Diamond Ave. jeweled camera clutch, as a nod to her best friend's growing interest in photography.

Lately, she's been getting into pressure point martial arts.

She's been developing a bit more of a sweet tooth, enjoying the green grape flavored saltwater taffy from Confection Carousel.

Ichnaea loves listening to alternative, grunge, rock, and classical music. A new favorite has been the music of Moros (god of doom).

Her all time favorite meal is her husband's lentil stew with saffron rice & roasted artichokes.

In her free time Ichnaea enjoys archery, basketball, hiking, boxing, football (soccer), reading, mountain climbing, sewing, going to the spa, knitting, mixed martial arts, cooking, and spending time with family.

"To walk in nature is to witness a thousand miracles."

#my oc #oc character #my character #my oc character #oc intro #character intro #oc introduction #character introduction #modern greek gods #modern greek mythology #greek myth retellings #greek goddess #greek goddesses #greek mythology #greek pantheon #greek myths

3 notes · View notes

n2qfd · 5 months ago

Text

Today's adventure in homeownership... Plumbing...

The old Moen faucet had been leaking and upon inspection it was a cartridge type with a lot of broken plastics and the o-rings had flat spots too... It was junk. It's possible it was junk to start.... The previous owner was into the DIY stuff but by all accounts the neighbors have the most common description remains "cheap and dumb."

Well, ol'Cheap&dumb stacked about 3/8" of big steel flat washers up and sandwiched them with the brass nut to make the old faucet work.

What happens when we mix steel and brass children? Especially in a nice damp environment with a solid earth ground.....

I had to chisel through the brass to break it off as there was no room for a saw.... That's what...

To add a little insult to injury, Delta is sellig single hole faucets that bolt down like toilets now rather than the large flange but we've all grown accustomed to over the last oh .... 65 years.... So I had to machine a few holes in the countertop too. On top of that, they aren't even centered in the gasket for the base, so my template (no Delta didn't provide that) was only helpful to a point.

Today's lessons. Don't be cheap and dumb. When you realize you're in over your head call someone. And don't expect anything to be like it was the last time you did it.

#homeownership

2 notes · View notes

kagrena · 2 years ago

Text

VYRA

When you come to, it's after four thousand years of being stuck while the whole world's been spinning around you, and you barely recognise a thing. They don't recognise you, either. You're not the half-wild dwemer bastard daughter of some Telvanni wizard-lord, nor are you the architect formerly known as Rzarak, fallen from grace. You don't know if you can go back to being Vyra Rzarak Demnevanni. Maybe some clans can continue on like nothing happened, go back to their workshops where the tones stopped singing so long ago, but you -- you were determined to go your own way, to make something of yourself without the choirs and the clans chiefs trying to figure out what to do with you, without the acolytes who wanted to rip out your throat and the bell towers ringing your name and the half-dozen mentors who scratched their heads because you, Vyra, you could be something brilliant -- when you weren't being difficult, which was all the damn time. You'd taken one good, long look at that world -- and you'd left it all behind.

But not without having it all first. It was the Brass Architect herself who'd gotten through to you, after all, who'd seen you as more than 'trouble', and whipped you into shape. She'd taken one look at the engine in your big old brain, fed it the nuts and bolts of tonal theory, and got it to work, got you to work, got you to love, got you to hunger, and you grew. You grew until you towered over everyone else, one of the brightest minds of your generation, right until you were shining at the top of the spire. Introduced you to the big names, to the players and shakers, to Chief Architect themselves, who picked as one of their favourites - and they did pick favourites among acolytes, that was no secret. Yes, you were good. And once you realised exactly what you were reaching for, you wanted none of it.

The Numidium Project would ruin you all.

You had told people - you'd yelled your damn lungs out - that it was all no good, that it was all was rotten to the core, years before anyone else did. You brought it to the Grand Debate, where you were scolded like a child, and got ousted from Grand Chamber by the Chief Architect herself, who'd carved you up into little pieces and served them up to applause - but by the grace of the very same Chief Architect, you had not fallen fully from your previous stature. No, you'd been offered some write-off tonal engineer position in a minor outpost where you couldn't cause any more 'upsets' nor rouse any other 'upstarts'.

'She didn't want this to happen, Zakya. She's already overcome with grief,' you were told, by the woman you'd considered more than a mother, like you were already dead.

So you left.

You left the only world you knew and you spent forty years being raw and furious with the open skies and roads before you. You cut your hair and shaved your beard, threw out every precise instrument you'd ever touched for netch leather and a well-oiled crossbow. You cut yout hair and ran a caravan from Nchumzel to Tel Enora to half-way across Tamriel that you stashed with knock-off brass implements and any runaway who could pull their weight on your pathetic, wretched father's guilt money and you hated everything and everyone you saw along the way. You cut your hair and it always grew back long and thick and curly, no matter how savagely you cut it. You cut your hair and rode out your rage, tear up the road and everything on it, until the end--

-- until the Call came --

And 'I was right,' turns out to be no comfort at all, not even a bitter one, when the world's rolled on past you, and you haven't changed a bit.

Except that your hair's grown back.

You've realised you miss your grandparents. Even though they died fifty -- four thousand and fifty -- years ago. And you'll never see your cunt of a father again -- more's the fucking pity -- nor your half-brother, unless you waste half a funeral at an ancestral -- shit, what's the word for those things? Shrine?

Your hair's long past that feeling of fresh-cut grass and is beginning to curl around your ears. It itches.

You on keep counting their names. Lyr, the stable kid sweetheart who liked your guar -- you'd let her name them, Mistymuck and Needle and Calamity, that last one you both had a soft spot for -- she'd liked them far more than she ever liked you. She's gone. So is Knocks-on-Wood, the drover your father hired to spy on you, the only person you'd ever considered taking an arrow for. You'll never catch sight of Melyn Drels and his dimwit brother again, nor Shady Jade, nor the Alessian nuns, nor the Tel Enora cornerclub crew nor ---

Kagrenac would never speak to you again.

Kagrenac is still missing. You half-wonder whether she'd thrown herself into Red Mountain in spite.

But Bthemetz might. Bthemetz--

You learn that Red Mountain still smokes in the distance in Ald Resdayn, but the trees are now younger than you are. You only recognise half the road signs in Ald Cyrod. The traders on the high road gawk at you. The route is the same.

You miss them. You've always missed them. You'll always miss them. Your life will always be missing something, and you think you'll have to live with that. You're not happy, but you're no longer so furious you don't know what to do with yourself. The old world you wanted to tear up with you is missing. And you're what's left, Vyra--

When you get enough coin together to get a good look at yourself in a looking glass and not a muddy lake, rough stubble's coming through along the length of your jaw. You decide not to touch it. You pull your hand through your hair. Strange, how its length feels like a comfort now, when it had felt like a wound before.

When you raise a knife to your scalp--

When you raise a knife to your scalp, you think better of it. You finish your tea. It's the fourth era of some empire you've never heard of. Dynasties, what are they good for? You sign the guestlist with VYRA. You give no family name.

#vyra #dwemer #chimer #dwemer return AU I guess?#dwemereth #1st era

33 notes · View notes