#PressAge

[vinylespassion]

Une employée soulève une copie du disque de Leon Rusk 'Air Mail Special on the Fly' d'une estampeuse dans l'usine de pressage de la King Record Company, Cincinnati, Ohio, 1946.

[2t2r]

Les collages de feuilles séchées de Helen Ahpornsiri

Nouvel article publié sur https://www.2tout2rien.fr/les-collages-de-feuilles-sechees-de-helen-ahpornsiri/

Les collages de feuilles séchées de Helen Ahpornsiri

[aesthetically0b5essed]

This smartwatch does like 10,000 things and keeps perfect time but I still prefer a mechanical one.

[vieuxmetiers]

Janine Niepce, pressage du raisin, Rully, Saône-et-Loire, 1947.

[rbolick]

Books On Books Collection - Pramod Chavan

The Voice of the Yarn (2023) The Voice of the Yarn (2022)Pramod ChavanCasebound, glued, illustrated paper over boards, plain doublures. H325 x W235 mm. 66 pages. Acquired from the Artist, 20 May 2023.Photos: Courtesy of the artist. The technique of painting or printing by pulling a soaked string from a folded sheet of paper will be familiar to Western kindergarten and elementary school…

[shadow-djinni]

actually tbh I think I need to talk about my current project on here a little bit, just because it's living rent free in my head and dammit I'm going to make it pay up a little.

so I've been running a dnd campaign set in the Forgotten Realms for about a year at this point, and I wanted to set it somewhere other than the Sword Coast—problem is, that's the only part of the setting that got updated to 5e, so I've had to do a lot of digging around in older editions for research purposes, and uhhh...got really into Manshoon and Fzoul. and no, I don't actually care what anyone says (Ed Greenwood you can fight me on this actually), the subtext on the two of them is so loud and SO gay that it makes me a little insane? I'm normal about them. you know how it is.

anyway, the current fic project is a series of fics (some oneshots, some multichapter) set between 1257 DR and 1383 DR, tentatively entitled The Hundred Year Deception, just exploring that premise, that Manshoon and Fzoul were carrying out a secret romantic relationship while pretending to hate each other in public. series summary and current WIPs below the cut:

The Hundred Year Deception (series)

Manshoon of Zhentil Keep is many things—high lord, archmage, spymaster, nightmare—but above all else, Manshoon of Zhentil Keep is a liar. Fzoul Chembryl, high priest of the Black Altar, has made himself partner and accomplice in all of these falsehoods, and the one place the two of them can be completely honest.

Like a Bolt of Lightning from an Empty Sky

1257 DR

As a lord-prince of Zhentil Keep and heir to the seat of the First Lord, the young rogue Manshoon must prove his worth and right to his inheritance. When his quest goes catastrophically wrong and leaves him disabled and his companions unable to return home without disgracing themselves, he turns instead to a path that was denied to him—mastery of the Art of magic.

Back in Zhentil Keep, all is not well—the tyrannical Mulmasterite priest Ulsan Baneservant has seized control of the Dark Shrine and grasps for still more power within the city walls. Under his grinding heel, Fzoul Chembryl, a young cleric of Bane, seeks to push back against his new high priest's influence, without being executed himself as a heretic. As tensions within the city rise and enemies outside her walls pressage war, Fzoul finds himself chosen to right the balance of power—but not by his god. If Manshoon is to claim his rightful throne, he will need all the help he can get...before Ulsan ends his ambitions for good.

(at least 75k, rated M; endgame Fzoul/Manshoon/Chess, origin story)

Private Sanctums for Private Affairs

1339 DR

After much of the year spent abroad, Manshoon and Fzoul reconnect in the Tower High.

(~10k, rated E; Manshoon/Fzoul. this one's just smut)

To Raise the Dead from Untimely Rest

1357 DR

Set during the denouement of the novel Crown of Fire.

With the spellfire quest a total failure and at a cost too high to sustain, Fzoul and Manshoon regroup and tend to fresh wounds.

(~8k, rated T; Manshoon/Fzoul)

[meli-writes]

Blood Sugar - Ch. 01

/// CW: small scene with gore, lots of blood, sexual references, and mentions of forced detransition and an abusive partner. ///

“Lord Blackford, I presume?” teased the pilot, lazily groping an obviously looted revolver. “Didn’t expect the ball-gown, or the tits in them — but the blood-drench seems about right.”

“Ain’t my blood,” Charlie coughed, pulling against an uncourteous handcuff. It was a medical bed — which wasn’t the worst sign — but 'she' kept 'her' guard, and pitch, high.

“No — none of it is,” they mused. Dink. Dink. “And it’s blue.”

The pilot tapped a pressurised cylinder — humming away as it cycled; blue out, red in. Charlie groaned — didn’t matter the type was killing her, it had felt good. And it had been the first good feeling since the rotting cunt had pressaged her to this fourth-world heap.

“Ya wanna explain why we’re pumpin’ an entire Blackford’s worth outta you then?”

“Cavalry Bioident,” obviously — and not the point. “Who’s we?” she dared. Blackford had invaded someone — but neither Charlie, nor his Lordship, knew the fuck who.

The pilot beamed. “Confederal Cavalry Militia — democratically attached to the Free Vessel Torastan, now landed in pursuit of this world’s liberation from imperialist remnant.”

“Punkers — and pirates, if not the same,” said Charlie — a raised brow guarding against the ridiculous notion she should recognise them. Better that she didn’t, probably. The Third Revolutionaries would blast you with niche political theories but usually not their guns.

“Yeah, pretty much,” they conceded, satisfied. “Kell Kinroth; callsign—” “Devourer.”

“Oh. Catch me a pair of fans?” Kell asked, smiling.

That callsign had punctuated every one of the Lord’s tirades against them — abusiveness in concert with the presumable, worsening humiliation of each successive war council.

“No — and where is she?”

---

“Miss Blackford.” Her father’s mistress stalked up to her, the shivering and shell-shocked Ladyship— “Ishbel.” —and smacked her. “Ish! Get in the fucking Cav.”

Lord Gorden Blackford, her father — his throat decorated by a mangling slice from ear to missing ear — was staring at her, lying in blood more precious than his life. My Heirloom. And it was dripping, from teeth to cleavage, hidden aneath Charlie’s stolen pourpoint.

“You waiting on daddy’s loyal retinue to butcher each other for the privilege of making you their broodmare?” they spat, a wet and blue-bloody globule of Charlie's spirited disdain for Blackford’s touch – how they hated their own flesh for it.

The Syphon-Scepter was rammed deep into his gullet, where the delicate engine burnt out draining a still-living subject. “There’s nothing left for us, for you, here — isn't there, Ish?”

“No, there isn’t.” she said, taking their hand. You’re all I need now, Charlie.

---

“I-I had to get out of there — get her out with me. That good enough for you?” Charlie rubbed at her wrist where the cuff had chafed. “Now where is she?”

Kell nodded, gun holstered at bloody last, and answered simply. “Holding cell.”

“Why isn’t she here? You fucking shot at—”

“Nah,” they interrupted. “Seems you took all the internal blast for her. Still, smart— takin’ her hostage—” She’s not— “Meanin’ you weren’t gonna get shot. Least till you walked into us.”

Charlie turned off the bed, stopping anxiously as the infuser cord tugged at her.

“Still— sorry about that. Didn’t spot you’d detached the armaments,” Kell seemed genuinely embarrassed, staring at shrapnel-borne pockmarks. “But good I shot first. Partner’d been itching to vibro-smash the fucker for months. I’d say you’re a defector like her but—”

“Ain’t a pilot,” said Charlie, having not meant to walk into their warzone. There was only so much Ish could backseat, knowing a disobedient amount more than her station begged.

“Yeah, cos ya actually just say pilot. Still catchin’ Bleater say Cavalier sometimes. Ha, chivalric bullshit—”

“And she’s not my fucking hostage!” Charlie wanted Kell to shut the fuck up, to leave them both alone. “The Miss wanted—” “Woah.”

“That Miss of yours is a Lady now, the Lady — Blackford.”

Charlie didn’t yet understand what she’d done. Tangling with nobility used to mean Blackford smuggling himself into Charlie's subdivision of a second-world orbital habitat, to get pegged raw — before Charlie started soaking up all the psychosexual hang-ups that begot.

“What she wants doesn’t matter, she’s too valuable to give up. Sorry, Charlie.”

You aren’t. Kell was relieved, not sorry, and could tell Charlie wasn’t pleased. Not least because Charlie’s shaking fists made it very fucking obvious. She had just delivered them everything they needed to win their little insurrection — all at Ish’s expense.

“No one’s gonna hurt her alright,” they reassured — and a truth revealed in it; we could if we wanted to. It's why she told me your name. Because she’s ours now, not yours.

“And— dropping her off makes you very cool with us.” They were trying to bribe her, mostly so they felt less bad. It wasn’t for Charlie’s sake.

The cylinder beeped — done, Blackford was gone. Kell pulled the infuser out, and it sucked. “Fuck, you really won’t let me keep it? Thought killing him would make me a Cavalry Ace.”

“Kinda." Their formally-disavowed bounty board lighting up for Blackford's death was doubtless darkening the day of many of the militia's lances. "But it was killin' ya, wrong type an’ all — self-replicating too, and eatin’ your blood cells. It’ll only bind properly to her.”

Kell could see the bitter sorrow in Charlie’s eyes. “But?”

“Haven’t felt that good since before his Lordship’s unilateral decision to just abduct me. When I was home and—” Charlie’s head had felt clear — narrow and focused — and had again, bathed in cerulean. “Say— and mind my fucking manners here—”

“Think I have been,” mused Kell. “Blackford had a refined taste in mistress, didn’t he?”

“Yep. Killer.”

Charlie stood up — flexing away the tension in his shoulders, chords purring a bruising memory of hateful words, “You wretched, rebellious queers—” Kell sputtered like a dying engine, and would have fallen over if the chair hadn’t been braced against the wall.

Charlie relaxed. “You got any hormones? Like, androgenic implants — or fuck, I’ll do gel.”

It was that voice, scrambled by interference, that had passed perfectly as Blackford, to the traffic tower, so Charlie didn’t have to blow the fence and their cover.

And that same voice — obliviously transmitted on the shortwave — that had drawn out Bleater and the Devourer. “Oh— sugar. You’re in good fuckin’ hands,” they smiled.

But Kell tensed again — still bargaining, “If that makes us cool?”

“Yeah, it does. Sorry — for what it’s worth.”

To Ish, not to you.

---

(Masterpost) / (Next)

originally written on cohost 18/01/2024, in response to Making-Up-Mech-Pilots' prompt:

Mech Pilot who took your place.

in the original version the word blue is... well it's blue lol. CSS my beloved.

[baede-6]

Me:"I don't like scout rifles."

Friend:"You'd like Dead Man's Tale. DMT has amazing crits and the catalyst allows you to fire from the hip.It fits your whole cowboy aesthetic."

Me:"Mmm I don't know..."

Friend:"Pressage is the legendary quest on rotation this week, let's just get it for you and you can try it out."

Me:"Ok. I'll try anything once."

After Pressage:

Me:"Light, she's pretty."

Friend:"We'll take you to Grasps of Avarice and you can shoot a few rounds.Shoot it once and reload it."

Me:"This doesn't even handle like a scout rifle..."

Friend:"See?Maybe you should listen to your friends when they recommend guns for you. It's not all hand cannons."

Me:"You keep Sunshot and Ace out of this. I'm not maining a scout rifle anytime soon.Although she is pretty and handles like a charm.Oh. Oh no. Do I like a scout rifle?"

[meriol-lehmann]

pressage de paille, rang saint-charles, hébertville

[yukicustos]

So, I did a little something. I had been writing for too long by now and it is time to have some of my stuff see the light of the day.

'Wild Bluebird' is a imaginary studio for my scripts and the first one with the spotlight on is 'Indigo Heart' based on Teen Wolf series, and for you, yes, you! Who's in love with Thiam like an awful amount. Give it a try. I know it's a little a bit off the usual.

A script, like literally, I had read some movies scripts. I love the vibes, my writing, projects fits the format and I would love to sharp this as much as I can. I bet you can also imagine I am not a native, but I am aiming to become a pro anyways.

About

‘TEEN WOLF: Indigo Heart’ Script. Genre: ‘Action, Fantasy, Drama. Theo Raeken is having dreams about Liam Dunbar, and his new endeavor as a dancer, but there’s much more about this to be only about channeling his anger. In a potential reality, where they found out what’s turning their Werewolf eyes into an Indigo color, and why it is related to the states of dreaming. They face sumeric demons, venturing themselves in babylonian rituals with an upcoming pressage of a new uncontrollable force onto Beacon Hills fate. Where does Liam fits in all this? He’s the center of it, and Theo can feel it. Written in Script format, meant to follow the events after the Hunters ‘Teen Wolf Season VI.’

The arc is inspired in the very concept of me imagining Liam finding dancing to be his way through managing this energy called: anger issues. Which parallels rituals(also me, because well it works from actual experience), states of consciousness and all that good stuff about the 'Supernatural' that makes double meaning to 'Spiritual'. And of course a new mythological being for them to deal with, the Hellcat*cough, cough* Meghan Fox face claim *cough*

Here's the Trailer Concept from WB youtube channel:

The link for download is the 'WB SCRIPTS' website page right here,

[bibichesoul]

La suite de l’histoire.

Écrire est assez éprouvant, le rythme à ne pas perdre, les idées à ranger, le mot juste pour préserver le ton…

- Mais il est tellement réconfortant de se disséminer au travers d’une histoire que je m arrête plus.

Ella dépose les deux tasses fumantes sur la petite table basse du coin lecture. Le café emplit l’espace d’un arôme riche et chaud, se mêlant aux odeurs de vinyle, de bois ancien et de cuir patiné. La vieille dame ne dit rien. Elle tient sa tasse à deux mains, comme pour y chercher un peu de chaleur, ou peut-être un souvenir précis.

Dans la boutique, le silence qui suit Beethoven n’est pas un vide, mais une présence — comme si la dernière note résonnait encore quelque part, dans les murs, dans les objets. Et dans le cœur d’Ella, surtout, où cette femme inconnue a éveillé quelque chose. Un écho ancien. Un pressentiment.

La vieille dame laisse son regard errer lentement autour d’elle. Sur les bacs à disques. Sur les affiches fanées. Sur la vieille photo noir et blanc d’un club de jazz collée dans un coin, qu’Ella avait oubliée elle-même. Son regard glisse sur tout cela comme une main qui effleure les touches d’un clavier invisible. Sans rien dire encore.

Ella ne pose pas de question. Elle sait reconnaître ce genre de silence : celui qui contient plus que mille paroles. Elle sent que si elle parle trop tôt, trop fort, la magie se brisera. Alors elle s’assoit en face, tasse entre les doigts, et elle attend. Présente. Ouverte.

La vieille dame regarde enfin le disque qu’elle a posé près d’elle.

— Ce morceau-là, dit-elle très bas, presque pour elle-même… c’était toujours le dernier. Quand la salle se vidait. Quand la lumière descendait sur la scène. Quand les mains ne tremblaient plus.

Elle effleure la pochette, puis relève les yeux vers Ella. Un sourire, minuscule, fatigué, mais réel, se dessine au coin de ses lèvres.

— Elle savait finir une nuit, Aretha. Comme personne.

Puis elle se tait de nouveau. Elle ferme les yeux. Son souffle ralentit. Pas de sommeil, non. Un retrait. Une pause. Une façon d’être là sans se donner toute entière.

Ella baisse les yeux vers la pochette du disque. Puis vers les mains de la femme, reposant désormais sur ses genoux. Les doigts légèrement recourbés. Des mains qui savent. Qui ont su. Qui n’ont jamais oublié.

Le percolateur s’éteint d’un cliquetis sec, presque une coda.

Et dans la boutique, dans ce matin suspendu, on n’entend plus rien. Mais Ella sait : la musique n’a pas cessé.

Le silence flotte toujours dans la boutique, mais il a changé de texture. Ce n’est plus un silence d’attente, ni celui qui suit une fin. C’est un silence dense, chargé, comme avant qu’une musique ne recommence — ou qu’un nom soit prononcé.

Ella se lève lentement, fait mine de ranger quelques vinyles sur l’étagère juste à côté. Un vieux pressage japonais de Coltrane, un live de Sarah Vaughan à Montreux, des disques qu’elle ne vendra jamais vraiment, qu’elle garde là pour leur simple présence. Mais c’est un geste de pudeur, pour ne pas fixer la vieille dame trop directement. Pour ne pas forcer le fil.

— Vous jouiez encore, récemment ? demande-t-elle simplement, presque sans y penser, comme si la question lui était venue malgré elle.

Pas de réponse immédiate.

Mais un frémissement, une inspiration retenue.

— Je n’ai plus touché un clavier depuis… longtemps, dit la femme d’un ton bas, sans amertume. Pas parce que je ne le voulais plus. Parce que… l’élan s’est éteint. Le feu. Tu sais ?

Ella ne répond pas. Elle hoche la tête très légèrement. Oui, elle sait. Ou croit savoir.

[gaectanemakiniko]

C’est parti le pressage de l’huile de tournesol 🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

On le presse pendant 4 jours non stop !

[yuehangkeji]

When choosing insulating glass machine, you need to pay attention to several key issues. The first point is whether the structure of the washing part of the entire production line is reasonable, and whether the washed glass can meet the standards of the glass factory; The second point is whether the pressing force of the plate press is strong enough, whether the butyl sealant can be pressed open, and whether the dimensions of the four corners of the glass after pressing are within the range of national standards; The third is our sealing machine. When sealing the glue, no white lines are allowed on the glass, and the glue must be full and even; Finally, pay attention to the brand of electrical components used in the machine, which determines the service life of a machine.

Yalıtım camı makinesi seçerken, birkaç önemli konuya dikkat etmeniz gerekir. İlk nokta, tüm üretim hattının yıkama kısmının yapısının makul olup olmadığı ve yıkanan camın cam fabrikasının standartlarını karşılayıp karşılamadığıdır; İkinci nokta, plaka presinin presleme kuvvetinin yeterince güçlü olup olmadığı, butil sızdırmazlık maddesinin açılıp açılamayacağı ve preslemeden sonra camın dört köşesinin boyutlarının ulusal standartlar aralığında olup olmadığıdır; Üçüncüsü, sızdırmazlık makinemizdir. Tutkalı kapatırken, camda beyaz çizgilere izin verilmez ve tutkal dolu ve eşit olmalıdır; Son olarak, bir makinenin hizmet ömrünü belirleyen makinede kullanılan elektrik bileşenlerinin markasına dikkat edin.

При выборе машины для производства стеклопакетов необходимо обратить внимание на несколько ключевых моментов. Первый момент — разумна ли конструкция моечной части всей производственной линии и может ли вымытое стекло соответствовать стандартам стекольного завода; Второй момент — достаточно ли сильное усилие прижима пластинчатого пресса, можно ли выдавить бутиловый герметик и соответствуют ли размеры четырех углов стекла после прессования национальным стандартам; Третий момент — наша машина для герметизации. При герметизации клеем не допускается наличие белых полос на стекле, а клей должен быть полным и ровным; Наконец, обратите внимание на марку электрических компонентов, используемых в машине, которая определяет срок службы машины.

Lors du choix d'une machine à vitrage isolant, plusieurs points clés doivent être pris en compte. Le premier point est de savoir si la structure de la partie lavage de la ligne de production est appropriée et si le verre lavé répond aux normes de l'usine de verre ; Le deuxième point est de savoir si la force de pressage de la presse à plaques est suffisante, si le mastic butyle peut être ouvert par pressage et si les dimensions des quatre coins du verre après pressage sont conformes aux normes nationales ; Le troisième point concerne notre machine à sceller. Lors du scellage de la colle, aucune ligne blanche ne doit apparaître sur le verre, et la colle doit être pleine et uniforme ; Enfin, prêtez attention à la marque des composants électriques utilisés dans la machine, qui détermine sa durée de vie.

Mob/Whatsapp ID: +86 15053175377 Email: megan@yuehangcom.com Web: https://www.yuehangcom.com YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/@YueHangIGMachineLine Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ShanDongYueHang/

[vinylica]

Trouvaille du jour au fin fond d'un bac à 50cts. Il était caché dans une pochette qui n'avait rien à voir. J'ai retourné tous les bacs en espérant trouver une pochette générique Odeon mais rien.

I Want to Hold Your Hand / Roll Over Beethoven, pressage allemand.

Allez, hop trois reprises bien délirantes :

ODEURS

https://youtu.be/ttlnGyO6hDk?feature=shared

BEATLE BARKERS

https://youtu.be/IlwOdLz4z9o?feature=shared

DRUNK JOHN LENNON

https://youtu.be/aUULhs1U0hY?feature=shared

[hydraulic-pressage]

not to vague blog about my friends but being the baby of the group doesn't make you more likable. It's fine if you don't know how to do stuff and I will help you until we're old and wrinkly but not knowing how to cook isn't cute, quirky, or a personality trait.

[flaner-bouger]

Foires Villageoises Traditionnelles en France à Ne Pas Manquer

La France, avec sa riche culture et son histoire, est le théâtre de certaines des foires villageoises les plus enchanteuses au monde. Ces événements vont bien au-delà de simples marchés : ce sont des célébrations des traditions locales, de l’artisanat et de la gastronomie qui se transmettent depuis des générations. Que vous soyez un voyageur à la recherche d’expériences uniques ou un passionné de culture, les foires villageoises de France ont quelque chose à offrir à tout le monde. Voici quelques foires incontournables et ce qui les rend si spéciales.

1. Foire de Saint-Louis en Alsace

Située dans la pittoresque région d’Alsace, cette foire combine les meilleures traditions françaises et germaniques. Vous y trouverez des produits artisanaux, des vins locaux et de délicieuses tartes flambées. La foire propose également de la musique folklorique, créant une ambiance festive et chaleureuse.

2. Fête de la Lavande en Provence

Organisée au cœur de la Provence, cette foire est un véritable délice pour les sens. Entre les stands proposant des produits à base de lavande et les ateliers sur la fabrication d’huiles essentielles, cet événement met à l’honneur la beauté de cette fleur emblématique de la région. Ne manquez pas le miel local et la glace à la lavande !

3. Fête de la Pomme et du Cidre en Normandie

La Normandie est célèbre pour ses pommes et son cidre, et cette foire est l’endroit idéal pour en profiter. Dégustez des jus de pomme fraîchement pressés, du cidre et du calvados tout en découvrant des démonstrations traditionnelles de pressage de pommes.

4. Foires Médiévales en Bretagne

Remontez le temps avec les foires médiévales de Bretagne. Ces événements comprennent des reconstitutions, des chevaliers en armure brillante et des stands proposant des objets artisanaux inspirés du Moyen Âge. Une expérience immersive parfaite pour les familles et les passionnés d’histoire.

5. Foires Gastronomiques du Sud-Ouest

Le sud-ouest de la France est réputé pour son foie gras, ses truffes et ses vins fins. Les foires villageoises de cette région sont un paradis pour les amateurs de bonne cuisine. Rencontrez les producteurs locaux, goûtez leurs créations et repartez avec des produits gourmands.

Comment Trouver des Foires Villageoises en France

Avec des centaines de foires organisées chaque année en France, il peut être difficile de s’y retrouver. Heureusement, Flâner Bouger est une ressource précieuse pour découvrir les événements à venir dans tout le pays. La plateforme offre des informations détaillées sur les dates, les lieux et ce que chaque foire propose.

Conseils pour Visiter les Foires Villageoises Françaises

Arrivez Tôt : Les matins sont le meilleur moment pour profiter des foires, quand l’ambiance est animée et les foules encore peu nombreuses.

Prévoyez de l’Espèce : De nombreux stands n’acceptent pas les cartes bancaires, alors mieux vaut avoir de l’argent liquide sur vous.

Apportez un Sac Réutilisable : Vous voudrez sûrement ramener chez vous des souvenirs uniques ou des produits frais.

Les foires villageoises en France sont une célébration de la communauté, des traditions et des plaisirs simples de la vie. Que vous exploriez les champs de lavande de Provence ou que vous dégustiez du cidre en Normandie, ces foires offrent des expériences inoubliables. Préparez votre prochaine aventure avec l’aide de Flâner Bouger et plongez dans le charme authentique de la culture française.