#aluminium engraving

[heatsign]

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[mojopress]

Make a Lasting Impression: Custom Business Card Design & Printing for Your Melbourne Events & Conferences

Are you planning a major event or conference in Melbourne? Do you want to make a lasting impact on potential clients, partners, and attendees? Then Business Card Printing Melbourne is crucial to your success. Your business card is often the first physical representation of your brand, and it's a powerful tool for creating a memorable and professional impression. A well-designed and printed card speaks volumes about your commitment to quality and attention to detail.

Unlock Your Brand's Potential: Custom Business Card Design and Printing in Melbourne

Beyond simply exchanging contact information, Business Card Design and Printing in Melbourne allows you to showcase your brand's personality and values. From bold and modern to elegant and sophisticated, the design possibilities are endless. A bespoke card design can reflect your company's unique aesthetic and communicate your core message effectively.

Beyond the Ordinary: Custom Business Cards Printing Melbourne for Unforgettable Experiences

Investing in Custom Business Cards Printing Melbourne can elevate your brand beyond the ordinary. With high-quality materials, unique finishes, and innovative printing techniques, you can create business cards that stand out from the crowd. Imagine handing out cards that feel luxurious in the hand, or feature striking details like raised lettering or metallic accents. This kind of personalization adds a touch of class and sophistication, leaving a lasting impression on your audience.

Why Choose Custom Business Cards for Your Melbourne Event?

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Key Considerations for Business Card Design and Printing in Melbourne:

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Event Theme: Does your card design complement the overall theme of your event?

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Materials & Finishes: Consider options like premium paper stocks, spot UV coating, or embossing to elevate the look and feel.

Information: Include essential details such as your name, title, company, website, contact information, and any relevant social media handles.

Call to Action: Consider adding a clear call to action to encourage interaction, such as a website address or a QR code.

Mojo Press: Your Partner for High-Quality Business Card Printing in Melbourne

At Mojo Press, we understand the importance of a strong visual presence and the power of a well-designed business card. We offer a comprehensive range of Business Card Printing Melbourne solutions, tailored to meet your specific needs and budget.

Here's what sets Mojo Press apart:

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Competitive Pricing: We offer transparent pricing and competitive rates without compromising on quality.

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Beyond Business Cards: Printing Solutions for Your Entire Event

In addition to business cards, Mojo Press provides a comprehensive range of printing solutions for your Melbourne events and conferences, including:

Brochures & Leaflets: Communicate your event details, speaker bios, and important information.

Posters & Banners: Create impactful visuals to promote your event and brand.

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Name Badges: Identify attendees and make networking easier.

Table Tents & Signage: Direct attendees to key areas and create a cohesive event atmosphere.

Partner with Mojo Press for Unforgettable Event Printing Solutions

Whether you're organizing a small networking event or a large-scale conference, Mojo Press has the expertise and resources to deliver exceptional printing solutions that elevate your brand and enhance your event's success.

Your business card is more than just a piece of paper; it's a powerful marketing tool that can shape your brand's perception and leave a lasting impression on potential clients and partners. Business Card Printing Melbourne from Mojo Press offers the quality, creativity, and expertise you need to stand out from the crowd and make your event a success. With Mojo Press as your partner, you can focus on creating a memorable and impactful experience for your attendees while knowing your brand is represented with the highest level of professionalism and quality.

[patric-jonas]

Jonas - 2024 #13 - art postal pour Fabienne - la boite de sardines

gravure sur aluminium - sur couvercle d'une boite de sardines - encre taille douce "Charbonnel" bleu de prusse - 10x14 - papier bamboo 90 % / coton 10 %

réalisation Jonas - 03 -2024

———————————————————————–

contacts et renseignements : patric.jonas@gmail.com  

————————————————————————

[ngravetek]

High-speed equipment with precise settings ensures elaborate designs and flawless finishes for CNC engraving machine for brass and CNC engraving machine for aluminium. Because CNC engraving machine for Hot Die Steel is harder, deep engraving demands sturdy equipment with strong spindles. Machines with cutting-edge cooling systems help minimize overheating while CNC engraving machine for Carbon Steel, which is a benefit. These specialist tools produce excellent outcomes by meeting the particular requirements of each substance.

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[hslasers]

UV laser is the best laser for Glass laser marking because

UV LASER (355nm) and DUV (266nm) get easily absorbed by the glass

IR (1064nm) laser gest reflected from the glass 

Green (532nm) laser and CO2 (10.6µm) would fracture and crack the glass                           

UV LASER (355nm) and DUV (266nm) get easily absorbed by the glass and the output is fine, rasterized area. There are no changes in the characteristics of the glass.

In the video shown below, a UV laser is marking the glass.  C. And C. Laser Engineering Pvt Ltd. has the required expertise, skills and setup for laser marking. For inquiries call or WhatsApp +91-9833105515 or send email info@cnclaserengg.com

UV laser marking system along with the marking software is the best option for non-metals and organic metals. 

This is because of the following salient features that UV laser marking machine offers 

Flexibility,

Pricing,

Maintenance.

[troublesomesnitch]

Phonesex with Aemond

Modern!Aemond x Reader

Modern AU - Aemond calls you after the dinner fight, and you cheer him up in the best way you can.

Contents: some quick smut. New relationship, mentions of oral sex, p in v sex and brief anal exploration (f receiving).

Warnings: brief mention of terminal illness.

Words: 3300

Thank you @arcielee for test-reading, tidying and generally helping out with this little experimental fic!

It has been six days since Aemond kissed you goodbye and shoved his skis and his snow gear and his aluminium suitcase into the back of a taxi. Six days, and you haven't heard from him since, not a single message, and no indication that he's read yours either. Six days, and the farewell kiss was just a sterile peck on the side of your mouth, because the driver was watching, and Aemond was in a foul mood already.

You suppose the thought of two weeks with one's extended family can do that to a person. And especially when one's family is as messy as Aemond's.

They're in the tabloids sometimes, Aegon with a model on his arm, Rhaenyra spotted topless in Ibiza, Viserys leaving the hospital looking more dead than alive. Old money, and every bit the stereotype too, with their luncheons and country estates and public feuds over inheritance. And the incident, of course. But Aemond never talks about that.

The family trip is solely his father's idea. Or, his father's command, really. His final wish; that they should all spend one last Christmas together at the chalet, eating venison and going cross-country skiing and whatever else rich people do on their alpine retreats. It is all very Town & Country, so far removed from anything you know. They have a coat of arms, for fucks sake, and Aemond wears it engraved on the back of his watch; on the cufflinks that sit in a velvet box atop his dresser. For special occasions, and you'd be lying if you said the thought had never crossed your mind: Aemond in coat and tie and cufflinks, yourself decked out in white and his mother's antique veil. Champagne fountain and monogrammed napkins and an article in Vogue Weddings. Double spread.

But you're getting way ahead of yourself. You have only been seeing each other for about three months, and it is still very new and foreign. Terrifying as well, and your heart leaps to your throat when your phone starts ringing and Aemond's name lights up on the screen.

Six days, and it's a quarter to midnight now, so that almost makes it seven.

"Hey," he says softly. "Did I wake you?"

"No!“ you exclaim, a little too excitedly despite your efforts to sound casual. “I was just watching something. How's St. Moritz?"

"Fine," he says, but it doesn't sound at all convincing, and there's a faint sound in the background. Like a scraping noise, and you imagine that he's picking at his cuticles; at the little chips in his nails.

"Aemond," you call, somewhat alarmed by the silence. "Is everything okay?"

The scraping gets louder before it finally stops and Aemond says sort of.

There was a fight at supper, apparently. An actual fight, with punching and shoving and everything. Straight out of Real Housewives, only even more insane, and Aemond started it, because of course he did. And all because of a stupid joke his nephew made.

"Isn't he like, fourteen?" you ask, and Aemond sighs on the other end of the line.

"Yeah," he mutters. "Something like that".

Jesus.

You are tempted to ask him why he would do such a thing, but you kind of already know. Because of his father, because of his sister, because of the incident. Because Viserys would rather dote on his grandsons than his own children, and because Aemond has chronic pains, and the prosthetic gets itchy, and he dented his car when he couldn't see how close that concrete pillar actually was.

And probably also because he doesn't hold his liquor very well.

"Aemond, you're a grown man," you begin, and your voice is kind and gentle, but you can almost hear how he's pinching the bridge of his nose. "I mean, I understand why you'd be upse - angry, but like. He's a child."

"I know," he sighs, shuffling around with something. "I shouldn't have done it.”  

There's the click of a lighter and then a deep exhale as he blows out smoke, and it reminds you of when you first met. You used to watch Aemond all the time before you worked up the courage to talk to him. He would lean so leisurely against the wall, cigarette in hand and that haughty smirk on his lips; leather jacket, black jeans, hair artfully tousled and tied back. Tall and handsome and just so fucking cool.

"Thought you quit," you tease, and it sounds a little chiding, but it isn't meant like that.

"I did," Aemond says. "I got this one from my uncle - it would have been rude to decline.”

He is quiet then, but it's a sort of contemplative silence. Like somehow you can feel there is more.

"It pisses me off," he finally says. "This whole charade - it's exhausting.”

Yes, you think. It must be. All of his family trapped under the same roof, forced to confront so many painful memories, yet act as though none of it ever happened. Smile and laugh and play house, and all so Viserys Targaryen can pretend he was a better man. Go to his grave with the comfortable illusion that he did not create the rift that tore his family apart.

If Aemond was with you right now, you would wrap your arms around him and kiss his face and his lovely hands, but all you can do at this moment is give a weak yeah, I understand.

"It has been the most miserable week," he moans. "Although - Aegon did fall off a lift today. He's fine, it was just a T-bar. But that was fun."

You giggle. "Oh, poor Aegon.”

"It was his own fault," Aemond snorts. "He had Jägerbombs for lunch. Anyway - " he clears his throat, back to the brooding mood and somber voice. "I'm sorry I called you so late. And for not being in touch. And for... everything else.”

"It's fine," you shrug. "I don't mind. But, Aemond - " you pause, thinking of how best to word the next part, "I think you should at least consider apologising to -"

"No." he cuts in. "Absolutely not.”

There's an awkward silence then, and you worry you might have overstepped your boundaries. He is so difficult to read sometimes, so elusive. You never quite know what he needs from you, sympathy, or flattery, or reassurance, or nothing at all.

You can, however, think of a way to distract him from his brooding. And maybe sex isn't the healthiest way to cope with one's issues, but still. It is miles better than beating up family members.

You twirl a lock of hair around your finger, even though he can’t see it. "What are you doing right now? Are you alone?"

“Yes,“ he says, curious. “Why?”

"What are you wearing?"

"Same thing I always wear," he responds, but then his voice turns coy and teasing, and he asks "what are you wearing?"

You look down at your fuzzy socks, your faded shorts, the worn-out knickers underneath.

"Honestly? Not anything nice."

Aemond laughs, a real laugh this time, and then he tells you just make something up.

The first thing that comes to your mind is that dress you saw the other day. Aemond would like it. He is not into extravagant lingerie and things like that, always likes it best when you are just you. Dry patches on your lips, bruises on your legs and all. Natural. 

But he is still a man though. So, not too natural.

"I'm wearing - I'm wearing a little slip. Silk, and it's the prettiest colour. It is soft to the touch," - you run a finger up your thigh, imagining it - "and it is very short. My legs are out and everything. And my tits look so good in it.”

"They always do," Aemond says, and he sounds a little husky when he asks what is underneath?

"Those panties you liked last time. With the little bows on them?"

"Yeah," he breathes. "I remember.”

"Good. Just the panties, and nothing else. And the dress is so thin - it feels like nothing when you touch it."

You lay back on top of your bed, your hand working its way down the waistband of your sleeping shorts, phone pressed to your ear. 

"I want to touch you," Aemond sighs, voice all soft and gentle. "I want to feel your body against mine.”

You blush. He is quite the romantic sometimes. Jesus, Aemond is so out of your league. You can hardly believe he'd even look in your direction, let alone kiss you and hold you and let you sleep with your head on his chest.

"Aemond" you whisper, slowly stroking your between your legs. "I'm getting all wet. All wet for you".

His breath hitches, and there's a faint oh, followed by the rustling of fabric as he palms himself over his pants. Lowering his voice and breathing touch yourself.

"I already am" you purr. "I wish it was you, though. Wish you could feel how much I want you."

Aemond says fuck, he wishes that too. You're getting him so hard. So hard just thinking about your pretty cunt.

"I'd like to suck your cock" you sigh longingly, and he immediately responds with a sharp breath that makes warmth spread in your stomach.

"Wait -" he mutters. "Hang on".

You hear the metallic clink of his belt, the sound of his zipper, and you bite your lip thinking about what he's doing. Taking his stiff cock in hand, brushing slender fingers along the shaft, running a thumb over the tip to collect the little drops that have already leaked from it. He has the prettiest cock, long and thick and veiny. Uncut, and blushing red at the tip when you slide his foreskin back. 

How you wish you could feel it in your mouth.

"Tell me how you'd do it" Aemond pleads, and there's a slight strain in his voice that suits it so well. 

"I'll start out slow," you whisper, "with just my tongue and my hand. Get your cock big and hard before I take you in my mouth. And then I'll wrap my lips around the head, and I'll press my tongue against the little slit there. And - and I’ll lick the tip of your cock until you’re begging me for more.”

He sighs, and you can hear how his hand settles into a steady rhythm, up and down over his hard cock. Filthy. 

You close your eyes and continue.

"I'd take you so deep, all the way to the back of my throat. And I would tease you - I'd be real fucking mean. I want you leaking in my mouth, all needy and desperate for me. Like, so you can barely hold it back anymore. You'd be ready to explode.”

"Don't stop - " he pants, still keeping up the stroking, pausing just briefly to spit into his hand.

"I'll edge you before I let you come. So many times, you'll be desperate for release. I want your balls so tight and heavy - all tender from how much you need to come - ”

Aemond moans, and he's stroking himself faster, tugging and tugging and filling his bedroom with damp, lewd noises. You know how he likes it; firm grip when he moves up, slack going back down, slight twist at the tip.

"And then?"

"I'd let you come in my mouth."

"No," he breathes. "I want to come inside of you.”

You give a little giggle; he always wants that. Occasionally he’ll finish all over your breasts, or in your mouth, but mostly he likes it the old fashioned way. Your bodies molded together and his cock pulsing deep inside of you. Pressing his forehead to yours or moaning into the back of neck. 

You like that too - but there are other things you might like to try as well. 

"You should come on my panties," you say coyly. "Like, inside them. And then I'd wear them all day, and just walk around with your cum between my legs.”

Aemond groans again, loudly, hoarse and strained and so fucking hot.

"You'd like that?" you tease. "I would feel it there all day. All wet and warm in my little panties. Right against my cunt."

"Fuck," he moans. "Fuck - I'd like that so much."

The sounds of his tugging get louder and faster, and you picture him laid out on his bed, cock throbbing in his hand, hips thrusting up and up into his own grip. Lone eye closed and mouth falling open. 

He lets out a soft moan, and a whine - and then the stroking abruptly stops. Close call, that one. Aemond curses, and you can hear him taking deep breaths, calming his body, halting the mounting need to ejaculate. Too soon.

“Can't wait to have you,” he mutters, and you give a quiet hum in response. 

“Please tell me how.”

He takes a slow, steadying breath.

"I want to be on top of you" he whispers, low, so no one will hear.  "Don't care if you're on your back or what, as long as you're underneath me".

"I'd be on my stomach. You can fuck me from behind".

“Yes,” he sighs. “I want to put my cock so deep inside you. I want you to feel how hard you make me. And I'll pin you down - I'll hold you in place when I take you" - his voice goes all ragged as he starts to slowly stroke his cock again - "fuck you're so beautiful when you're under me."

You mewl, and Aemond’s breath hitches.

“Yeah, and I'll fuck you slow, but hard. I want you squirming on my cock…”  he trails off, and for a moment there is only the sound of heavy breathing, his and yours. 

You had paused your own ministrations before, too focused on finding the right words, but now you begin your gentle stroking again. Underneath your knickers, fingers massaging right over your clit, so good that you let out a little whimper. 

“I love feeling you inside of me” you breathe, “I love it when you lie on top of me - ”

“Yeah?” He gasps, and you bite your lip. 

“Yeah. And I love it when you touch my - ass. Oh It feels so good when you touch me like that…”

Just saying it makes you a little flustered. You would not consider yourself very prudish, but there are some things that make you feel bashful, and this is one of them, the things he does to your backside when you’re together. And Aemond knows, and maybe that makes it even more arousing for him, the filthiness of it, the taboo. 

“How” he moans, his tone urgent and so incredibly intimate. “How do you want me to touch you -”

You have to take a very deep breath before you continue - you feel so sheepish, talking about that, but you are a woman in love, so for Aemond you’ll do your best. 

“I want you to slide your hand down my back and in between my cheeks,” you whisper, blushing all over. “It makes me so wet… feels so good when you caress me there - when you brush your fingers right over my tight little hole while you’re fucking me - maybe next time I’ll let you slip one inside…“

Aemond gives a strangled groan at that, quickening his strokes and hissing oh fuck. He is so close now, you can hear it. 

“Say my name” he begs, breathing so fast and tugging frantically on his cock. All hard and swollen now, his hips thrusting up, his balls pulling tight; oh you can imagine it so easily. 

“Aemond” you whisper. “Aemond, my love” - he moans louder, strokes harder - Aemond, I want you to fuck me, I want to feel your big, hard cock - 

Aemond chokes out a sob, and you say his name one last time as he reaches his peak. 

He holds back when he comes, muffling the helpless groans and grunts that you always love so much. But you can hear his strained sighs, his ragged breaths, and the sound is only slightly distorted through the speaker. If you close your eyes it's like he's there with you, gasping right in your ear. 

Oh you can’t wait to see him again, to get to touch him, cuddle up to him at night and run your finger down the perfect angle of his nose.

"You didn't come," Aemond says, accusingly, and you hold back a chuckle because he doesn't like it when you laugh at him. But it is as amusing as it is sweet, this need of his to do everything to perfection. Like if every time he is intimate with you isn't the BEST sex of your life, then he has failed as a lover; as a man.

“I did it on purpose” you reassure. “I'm saving it for you. All for you. Only for you.”

Aemond gives a somewhat dissatisfied hum, but he is occupied with something else now, moving around and fiddling with things. Cleaning himself up, you suppose. If only you were there to do it for him, you'd lick his cum right off his skin.

There is a loud noise in the background all of a sudden, someone knocking on Aemond’s door, and he scrambles to make himself presentable and tells you to hang on. The sounds are muffled - you assume he is covering the microphone - but you can hear another man's voice, and Aemond saying yes, I'll be right down, and then just fuck off, will you when the intruder won't take a hint.

"Sorry about that," he says awkwardly. "Aegon wants to go out. I should go with him".

You giggle at the thought - it is difficult to imagine Aemond at one of those tacky aprés-ski bars, glow stick and vodka-cranberry in hand. “Sounds fun!”

"Yeah, well, my mother would want me to,” he says sullenly. "You know, make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.”

"What's the age of consent in Switzerland?" you jest, but Aemond just gives an exasperated sigh and mutters too bloody low.

You pause, unsure of what to say next, and again there's that loaded silence until he clears his throat.

"I will tell them about you. My family - I'll tell them soon. I promise.”

You can feel heat rising in your cheeks. 

Aemond purposely keeps you far away from his family, and he’ll go to great lengths to avoid running into them when you’re together. In fact he prefers not to go out at all, and you have never questioned it or complained. He’s got you hook, line and sinker - could tell you right to your face that he was embarrassed to be seen with you, and you would still be at his beck and call. 

You shrug. “It's fine. Don't worry about it. You don't have to tell them. It's fine.”

“No it isn't,” he says gravely. “You're important to me. So I should treat you as such.”

He says something else after that too, but you aren't listening, still stuck on the words you just heard. You're important to me. You're important.

It makes your heart leap with joy, and you are only pulled back to reality when Aemond calls out your name, and then sweetheart?

He doesn't call you that very often. It is always so nice when he does.

“Sorry” you blush. “I zoned out. But - I've missed you. I miss you. It's nice to hear your voice again.”

There's no way to tell, but somehow you feel like Aemond is smiling.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Yours too.”

You tell him to have fun with Aegon and whatever horrid establishment they end up at, and Aemond tells you goodnight and says he'll call you as soon as he's back home. He doesn't say he misses you too, but that's okay. You know he does.

Because you're important.

[almostarts]

Yonel Lebovici, "Les Yeux Sans Visage" (Eyes Without Face), 1981,

Chrome-plated steel, black cast iron epoxy, polished aluminium, incandescent light.

Engraved signature. Limited edition of 10 + 2 artist’s proofs.

Total Height 200 cm (78 in) - Width 100 cm (39 1⁄4 in) - Depth 55 cm (21 1⁄2 in)

Courtesy: Galerie Chastel-Marechal

[beebuus]

On a sunny day, the number of leaves that fall is distinct from how much I miss the lake. They decomposed in a blink, as if done by someone to displease me. I felt the stench of death follow the path of the culprit, a smell of dead karaupita, of dead xiémié with worm tukulia bursting from their eyes. Wish it wasn’t so, they lived a life of wonder, of cycle and story, but it was finalized by an intruder.

She would take a second, the nails digging deeper on the flesh, shedding some haemolymph as the cold cubi-spheric aluminium separated her fibres. The roach barely flinched, what would be agonizing pain is just simple procedure for them, a process of sorts. Tuila would then grasp her hammer, which looked smaller than an exemplar of such tool. Something akin to a talisman, made of bronze with deep engravings of song.

I took off, through the path of rot and dehydration, deeper into the gallows of the beast. And there was beast, of feather and beak of bone and tall and eye of fire. He saw the deed, the actor of uncycling. He regurgitates, a key of wood and gold betwixt the organic, inside the green bile. As suddenly as the act, the bird fell to his weight, the fire leaving their eyes.

She digs her pins deeper in the meat of hers, hitting nerve and bone and screech stored in her throat, the socket of desperation in the neck showing deeper and deeper. A singular dewdrop of blood comes from the lenses in the roach’s eyes, carrying the path of least resistance between her hexagonal, optical ommatidia.

I wish I could help you, little… well, big one. In a whisper I told you, in your ear covered by fluff. I grasp your gift and continue forward.

Tuila hears a voice. Of mock, of desperation, of fear misconstrued from her own. A thought in a head of metal, pressing, it wont let go; and in so it doesn’t, she grasps the hammer and throws, at tree, any tree, it won’t go, I want you to leave, go, away now, I won’t, she won’t, and in a second it…

…

Stops.

(you hear this?) I swear it was here.

I wake up, in a forest of dark and moon. In it I find my body, sworn, vowed to not move. I’m a martyr, nailed to the ground, I am mounted, pinned. Immobile. And he appears. But he doesn’t say, any of a thing. It smells of foetus and of burned herb. Thick smoke my body is engulfed in, their face is unfamiliar…

“Why, of all places, you chose to go here, little doll?” a voice of guttural strength, flamboyant yet aged by smoke and mucus, the grunting of an old sir.

“I – “before she is allowed speech, the smoke floods the spiracles, it deafens the feeling of pain yet causes more itself, coughing and saliva escape her throat, in the form of an exhalant, screamed sigh, and another, Then a third, in quick succession. She regains composure, attempting to claim the voice

“… a hand of rot destroyed the lake in my providence, of which I took care myself for three springs.” I establish, inherent is the demand of revenge.

“Orh, I see… before I let you continue, I need you to know the reason of such act. The polorogé is an ancient creature, and without interception of their limb, the beast would succumb the surrounding area into cave and lake.” He confirms on the likes of his identity, of the mask that is shattered. Rivets travel through my person they dislodge and contort my already disfigured self, and then.

Stops.

I remove the suffering, and the hammer in the tree grows. It expands enough to be caught by my hand, and the relief of pleasurable pain-ending, it invigorates the muscles and binds them with the oath of metal.

Flicks of light from metallic shin shatter through the cloud of grey air, the roach disappears from the face of the Fumeurist, the slab of bronze covering the rays of moonlight, converting their blue into orange hue. The arm of the Smoke reveals from the cloak, being putrid and bursting with fetid and growth of mould and moss, the hammer suffers slight corrosion, but it is. Too late.

His body bared an orb, it glowed like moon and reflection of moor, like flying fish takiuapa and midnight bloom soloharé and of daughter with the happiest eyes. I am proud.

She returns, in wooden shack and dust. The lake is once again, and so is her love.

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

probably gonna let this fester here, if it gets enough traction ill explain the background character(s)

[yesthatsatumbler]

hey ill send you an ask! hows it going? post your favourite coin

Thanks!

Not much is happening TBH? Or at least to the extent that stuff is happening, in the short-to-medium term, I don't know what to say about it without some much more precise prompts on what exact kind of stuff you're interested in. I went to a beach today I guess? (And in the medium-to-long term things are too uncertain to say much about yet; too much depends on what would happen in places I don't really have influence over.)

I've moved to another country in 2022 because everyone was abandoning (and/or putting active sanctions on) my previous country due to a deeply unpopular war (that I didn't even vote for) and I was worried about being conscripted (and also for family reasons but the conscription thing was probably the main reason). Then in 2023 I saw my new country start its own (slightly less deeply) unpopular war that made approximately everyone abandon it, and I didn't really have any more places to go to... but at least I knew I didn't have to worry about being conscripted, and ongoing US support (and a long tradition of relative self-sufficiency, even if mostly for religious reasons) means that the sanctions are barely noticeable so far.

Not counting circulation finds, I had bought a grand total of about ten coins for my collection since October 2022. (I've received a few hundred more as gifts from friendly relatives.)

Favorite coin... it's a really hard question, you know! I don't recall your criteria/preferences for good coins offhand, and maybe if I knew them (I think I've seen them posted at some point...) I'd figure out which of my coins was the best fit for those. But also maybe that's not the right question to ask anyway.

For what it's worth, as of the moment I started writing this response, the first coin I thought of was that one silver coin I accidentally got for way under its true value because it was in such perfect condition that I thought it was probably made of aluminium (and accidentally confused it with a vaguely similar aluminium type while initially looking it up, though I don't recall whether that happened before or after I decided that it couldn't possibly be silver), and the dealer knew even less about those coins than I did, so he believed me and lowballed the price.

Then I figured out what went wrong and posted that on a forum, and it was a whole mess, and I eventually came clean to the dealer, and IIRC he basically said something to the effect of "I mean I didn't invest in it much either, happy that it's with someone who at least knows what it is". (Then I proceeded to buy a semi-key-date Barber quarter from him for under melt - and this time I did ask several times if he was sure about the price. I miss that guy.)

Yemen - North Mutawakkilite Kingdom (1918-62) Yahya Muhammad Hamid ed-Din (r. 1918-48) AR 1/10 (Imadi) riyal 1362 or 1364 AH? = 1943 or 1945 AD? Y# 5.5, Numista 39981 (my coin is currently the page example)

"Wait, if the coin is in such great condition, then how could there be an uncertainty in the date?"

That's because it's an overdate! The 6 is engraved over a 4 (that is, ٦ over ٤ - you can see both shapes here, but the 4 is mostly obscured), and the last digit is either 4 over 2, or 2 over 4 - but both of the ٤ (4) and ٢ (2) shapes are strong enough that it's hard to tell which was there first, and of course both 1364/42 and 1362/44 are chronologically possible.

The references (i.e. Krause) include 1362/44 (though I've never seen an example labeled as such), but not 1364/42, as a possible option; they do, however, have 1364/43, for which the NGC World Coin Price Guide provides this example... an exact die match to my coin.

Unfortunately, a comparison of their coin and mine makes it clear that the supposed "3" is almost certainly a misreading; a combination of wear (flattening out the relevant area) and what appears to be a slight crack (?) gives the digit ٢ (2) a seeming extra bump at the top, making it look like ٣ (3). On my coin there is no bump and the digit can only be read as 2.

I've been uncertain over the years I've had this coin over whether it's actually dated 1364 (1945 AD) or 1362 (1943 AD), though I tended to default to the former. I thought that this is entirely unknowable, but now that I think about it, it might theoretically be possible to find a match to the pre-rework die, and see if it says 1342 or 1344? But there's not a lot of those 1/10 riyal coins depicted online in the first place, and none of the ones I could find seem to match this die - and of course there's no reason to assume that the die as originally made was used to mint coins at all, as opposed to being some kind of unneeded surplus that got reused two decades later.

...Comparing the styles, I think 1344 (and consequently 1362) is more plausible, but I can't be very sure. But at least now I've figured out at least a theoretical possibility for how it could eventually be known what it actually is?

Numismatics is complicated.

(Maybe some day I'll actually write up my extensive post on a possible reattribution of the monogram AE4 type traditionally attributed to the usurper Leontius... I was a good way in before I discovered that the question was treated in far more detail, with far more examined examples, in a Swiss article from 2020. Of course the article is [mostly] in Italian, and IIRC it did not raise some of the points I noticed, so maybe it is worth writing out my version as well. TL/DR: it's probably not Leontius, but it's hard to say who it might be, and the only other historical attribution for the type makes the Leontius option look sane.)

...Sorry for the long and rambling post. I think I had another point to make in here but if so I've completely forgotten what it was.

[confused-artifabrian]

if computing hits a limit then the only way the technology to create microchips could improve is by making it easier. and if creating microchips becomes easier, some day you could get your computer from Reynauld the computer blacksmith who lives on High Street and hand makes and engraves his own PC towers with aluminium, a forge and a lot of time and love. and I think that would be a nice world.

[mojopress]

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[hirocimacruiser]

Tommy kaira SUPER SPORTS COUPE / TUNED FAIRLADY M30Z SPECIFICATION: V6-Cylinders 2960cc DOHC 24valves turbocharger with multi cup super intercooler, MAX power (net) 350ps/5800rpm, MAX torque 46.5Kg-m/4700rpm, 17inch wheels & brake system: 4piston aluminium caliper + ventilated big disk completed by Tommykaira.

Enter, Group T. Tuned Fairlady. Japan's first, with a maximum output of 350 horsepower. The new Tommykaira with 17-inch forged aluminum wheels. The M30Z has three Japanese firsts.

● Part 1 Maximum output of 350 hp (NET) The M30Z is the first domestic market car to claim a figure of 280 hp or more in the catalog data. The M30Z has been completed as a sports coupe with excellent total balance, including suspension tuning that reliably transmits 350 horsepower to the road surface and an aero body that pursues aerodynamics. With its front engine, rear drive, and advanced multi-link suspension, the M30Z has a presence that overwhelms the surroundings with extreme power that has been driven into everyday life.

● Part 2. 17 inch forged aluminum wheels

Standard installation

But we didn't just prioritize visual styling. As an important factor in the suspension tuning that reliably conveys the M30Z's ultra-high performance to the road surface, the wheels are upsized. Moreover, the wheels are made of highly reliable forged aluminum.

●The 3rd/most luxurious brake tuning is the brake system (opposing 4 pistons, aluminum caliper & ventilated big disc) used in the Skyline GTR. Safety is what we consider to be the basis of a tuned car. It is in the high performance of stopping power along with the improvement of stability. In addition, the M30Z has changed to brake pads with excellent effectiveness and fade resistance so that they can be fully compatible with sports driving. Equipped with Japan's first ultra-high performance brake system both in name and reality.

●For the aero development, only the front and rear spoilers, which are the biggest features of the Fairlady Z300ZX that became the base vehicle, are dynamically shaped. full length and width

We have achieved extremely aggressive styling without any changes. Overall, based on the inheritance of Tommy Kaira styling, the boldness of a sports car is emphasized more uniquely. The front spoiler stand up from angle

edge, curved surface through Van bar

The aerodynamic grill that flows smoothly into the bonnet The front emblem has been removed, and Tommykaira has been installed on the right side. Produces a powerful expression. On the other hand, the image of the rear of the M30Z has been significantly changed. The biggest feature is the bridge type spoiler that has become the body. Therefore, in the rear view, the black-treated oval line around the combination lamps of the 300ZX original is emphasized more in the M30Z, giving the back a sharp and hip-up appearance.

Top. Visually, the rear end has become a style with a significantly increased volume.

●When you sit in the driver's position, the first thing that catches your eye is the speedometer engraved up to 300km/h. In the M30Z, the meter panel is completely replaced with Tommykaira original. The Tommykaira Red character transmissive lighting on the black panel will always light up when the key switch is turned ON. Genuine leather-wrapped Tommykaira original steering wheel and shift knob. In addition, the standard equipment includes aluminum footrests, woolen driving mats, and other items that allow you to experience a distinctly different world of tuning cars the moment you sit in the driver's seat. Furthermore, for users who want to enjoy a more active sports feeling, racing type bucket seats (TOMMYKAIRA original RECARO SR type) are available as an option.

I'm here.

● For users who choose a tuned car, the engine room is also one of the areas where their interest is endless. The M30Z doesn't look anything out of the ordinary other than the Tommykaira green paint on the engine cover. However, the 350 horsepower source, which is the true value of Tommykaira tune, has undergone numerous tunings in places that cannot be seen. Normally, power-up tuning involves increasing the boost pressure and changing the turbine, but we developed the M30Z with an emphasis on the most basic aspect of a gasoline engine: improving combustion efficiency. I have been doing it. So why does the M30Z produce 350 horsepower and still have excellent fuel economy? To put it simply without fear of misunderstanding, it comes down to preventing the energy produced by combustion from being robbed by heat. The multi-cup super intercooler plays a major role as an effective functional part. Because of its simple mechanism, power can be increased without placing an extra load on other parts, and problems can be avoided. Tommykaira-style power-ups dramatically improve power performance while reducing fuel consumption.

★ Maximum output 350 horsepower brake tuning ★

★17-inch forged aluminum wheels★

Imposing 350 horsepower tune

First appearance in Japan!!

Tomita Yume Factory, Tokyo June 1st Saturday OPEN!

<Inside Nissan Apprite Ogikubo> TEL (03) 3301-6121

[statutorysignage]

ON-SITE STORMWATER DETENTION SYSTEM SIGN

Product Specifications / Options:

Standard Stock

Brushed Aluminium with full back double-sided tape

Light Weight

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Text and Graphics Options:  ​Direct UV Printing, Laser Engraving, Vinyl Lettering, Laser Cutting

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