#blackberry panel

[good-realtor-bad-realtor-dynamic]

They livestreamed the press conference!

Summary of the Glenn stuff

Glenn gets asked about his final scene where his character Jim is betrayed by Jay's character Mike and how he played it

This comes up again at the end of the panel and he, Jay and Matt all go into that scene in a lot more detail from the perspective of acting and shooting, and Matt goes into the strengths of comedy actors in those scenes

"I do not support Canada."

Glenn never had a Blackberry, he hates phones and computers for forcing him to be in touch with other people: "I just want to be left alone." Aww never change.

But he was seduced by the iPhone.

When asked how he played a serious role like Jim and still had him feel funny, Glenn talks about how he's always playing the characters intentions as seriously as always, and how there's not much of a difference between comedic and dramatic performances. If you've heard him talk about Dennis, you know this one.

Matt, Jay and Glenn, as the three main characters, kind of became a trio on set with their own private conversations

Playing a guy who embodies toxic male culture especially from the 90s and 00s: he was just playing Jim as written and didn't know if he would be the same in a modern work environment

Matt steps in and talks about his intention writing Jim into rooms full of young male nerds and how he wanted to tap into the male locker room nerd culture he grew up with and the sense of danger and violence that seeps in with a more traditionally masculine guy like Jim entering that space

Our fruity theatre kid talks about hating male-dominated spaces and gets roasted for saying he preferred feminine energy lmao

Glenn hates "alpha" bros and finds them insecure and obnoxious, and this role let him to play that aspect of himself which he finds gross. He finds it easier to play characters who aren't like him.

Matt wanted to hire comedy actors because he likes the unpredictability and randomness and kinetic energy they bring to their performances. It allows him to shoot them from very far away like in a National Georgraphic wildlife documentary.

Glenn focused on playing the character in the script and in Matt's vision instead of doing too much research into irl Jim and was helped by the fact that these people are big public figures

"Gene Roddenberry created the cell phone."

By the end of the movie, Jim and Mike have affected each other and done a slight role reversal. Glenn and Jay tried to play it quiet after a lot of shouting and show that even though Jim was hurt, he almost respected Mike at the end and was almost relieved that it had happened

Mat talks about using closeups instead of a master shot at the end to catch fleeting microexpressions. Glenn goes "I give it everything baby — big, small, I don't give a shit" and it gets Matt laughing.

The panel is mostly Matt Johnson, the director, co-writer and one of the actors in the film, talking about how he made the film in quite a bit of detail (rightly so) and it's an interesting listen. Funny too.

How they wrote and adapted the movie, focusing on the rise more than the fall, and autobiographical elements

Cinematography, lenses and Matt's fake documentary style

Developing a Canadian cinema in English with Canadian crew and finance while avoiding American Hollywood influences

Throws some shade at John Belushi

Talks up Star Trek writers and fans both and their effect on tech

and so on, I can't be bothered to type any longer.

Reviews from the Blackberry movie are starting to drop and they're all looking positive! The leads, Jay Baruchel and our little old man Glenn Howerton, are getting a lot of praise for their performances in all the reviews I've seen!

There's a couple of reviews on Variety and Deadline that even go so far as to say Glenn stole the show as the villainous Jim, which may be hyperbolic of them, idk, but in any case, I'm just happy he's finally getting recognition for his acting abilities outside Sunny and AP Bio!!! And it's at the Berlin Film Festival too, so fingers crossed this could lead to better roles for him in the future!

Sidenote: Going though twt, and it looks like Glenn was in Berlin today to do a panel with Matt Johnson, Jay and Cary Elwes.

[happy2bmyownboss]

Eclipse Gardening 2024 - Picture Overload!!!

[star-writr]

The Music Room

Another 10th Doctor x reader drabble. Requests are appreciated. You can also find this on my Ao3. Reader is gn and plays guitar. Enjoy!!

You had always been the TARDIS's favourite companion. Every-so-often, the spaceship would make a whirring noise in your presence, and if the Doctor was around he would smile and tell you: "she says you're the best person I've ever brought on board". It always made you chuckle and stroke the control panel in an attempt to return the flattery, which made the Time Lord either sarcastically ask if you two wanted to be alone, or look at you quietly with a gleam in his eye before suddenly announcing your next adventure.

As if that wasn't enough to make you see that the TARDIS had a weak spot for you, she would always find ways of comforting you when something was wrong; before you could even sigh with exasperation, you'd be distracted from your troubles by a familiar smell of blackberry pie, or by your favourite song playing faintly on a radio somewhere, or by a book dropping next to you on the cold pavement from god-knows-where.

In a similar occasion, returning in the TARDIS after almost dying as usual, the ship's hallway lighting threw you off a bit. You were just trying to reach your room, only wanting to collapse on the bed, but it was almost as if she didn't want you to, leading you in a different direction. The blinking light bulbs guided you until reaching a door; it looked exactly the same as all the others, so at first you couldn't understand what made it so special that the TARDIS wanted you to find it. As soon as you saw what was inside, however, everything else slipped off your mind.

It was a room full of instruments. There was a huge piano between some marble columns, resting on a glass pedestal; a drum set occupied a nearby corner; and, shifting your vision, you were greeted by the biggest guitar and bass collection you had ever laid eyes on. Every last one of them looked like it had been taken straight out of your dreams and into that room.

Since then, you had found yourself visiting that paradise every time you had the chance. You already knew how to play a guitar, so you usually handled those, shifting between different models. There were brands you had heard of and brands you didn't recognise, and they came in every possible colour imaginable. You were fond of all of them, especially the more extravagant ones with unusual shapes.

The Doctor was aware of how you spent most of your time on the TARDIS, and didn't have anything against it. You wouldn't lock the door or anything, so everytime the Time Lord wanted to check up on you, you'd let him. Sometimes he'd linger in the room, sit down on the floor while you attempted to read a music sheet, or he would suggest you played something so he could sing it. The Doctor wasn't very fond of or very good at singing, but it gave him an excuse to stay with you a little longer, and that was enough for him. On very rare occasions, he would also ask you to tutor him. Of course, he had picked up many guitars in his 900+ years of life, and knew perfectly well how to play, but again, he wanted to spend time with you without admitting it was for no reason other than his fondness of you. Honestly, his hearts melted every time your fingers stroke those strings, making him helplessly realize that he couldn't get away, and that he didn't want to. Therefore, he obliged to his feelings, staying by your side as long as possible. And you were more than okay with it.

With time, your bond grew stronger, making you question your feelings again and again. The music room kept almost all of your attention on each other, so to avoid feeling helpless your ritual started to take place in complete silence. Aside from monosyllabic replies to monosyllabic questions, you and the Doctor didn't talk as much as before, but it went without acknowledging, growing on you both. That habit came to a halt when the TARDIS made the first move instead of either of her passengers, tired of the mutual pining and determined to fill the silence that had grown inside the room. After all, it was a music room. It wasn't meant to be quiet.

She made sure it didn't go silent ever again by doing the only thing she could, which was locking both of you in. As soon as you realized the door wouldn't open, it startled you.

"What if there's something wrong with the TARDIS, Doctor?" you worried, while he tried to get the door open with his sonic.

The alien sighed. "The only thing wrong here is her attitude," he mumbled, "she's doing this deliberately. Let us out!"

You were confused. "How do you know? Why would she do that?"

The Doctor stopped in his tracks, putting one index finger on your lips, shushing you, and the other on his own. The TARDIS was speaking to him. A few expressions made their way onto his face, substituting each other and, once the spaceship's whirrs quieted down, shifting into a frown. The first thing he did was thank the stars that you couldn't understand the TARDIS. The second thing he did was curse everything because you didn't understand the TARDIS and he had to tell you everything himself.

"What happened? What did she say?" you whispered, his finger still on your lips. He removed it quickly and took one good look at your unaware expression.

The Doctor acknowledged the knot in his stomach and looked away, unable to keep eye contact with you. You were gorgeous to him, too gorgeous to ignore. It would've made him stutter, and he hated stuttering.

"There may or may not be something you need to know" he started.

"About what?"

"About..." about how much I want to kiss you, the Doctor thought. "...about me."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what about the TARDIS?"

"She locked us in here because she's giving me no choice but to tell you."

"Tell me what?"

"The thing. About me. The thing you don't know."

"Yes, I know that. But what is it, then?"

It was one of the very rare times when the Doctor genuinely did not know what words to use, which was worrying considering how much the Doctor liked words. He got out of life threatening situations with words. He also got into those same life threatening situations with words. He liked words, he really did. He also liked you. Considering he liked both you and words, the realization of not knowing what words to use with you was like a slap on the cheek. Specifically, it was exactly like one of those slaps only mothers gave him. Specifically his companions' mothers. He remembered Martha Jones and her mother. He also remembered Donna, but not her mother, because it was Donna herself who slapped him a couple times. Maybe more that a couple. She would've probably slapped him now. "Tell them, you twat!" she would've shouted. It would have been very effective. It would've certainly got him to say something, anything, even "ouch", which would've been better than standing completely still like he was doing now. A slap, that's what he needed. "I'm a genius", he thought. Then he slapped himself.

"Doctor!" you exclaimed.

"Sorry," he apologized, "I needed that. Sorry."

You took his hands in yours. "Are you alright? Is it something bad? Do you have to tell me something bad?"

"No. Well, it depends."

You kept looking in his eyes, insistent and a bit curious.

The Doctor held his breath. "Look, the thing is I'm usually good with words. What I'm not good at is speeches. I hate speeches. Especially heat-felt speeches. I like listening to speeches, but I don't like when they come from my mouth, because before they get to my mouth they go through my brain, and my brain is too messy to actually figure out a speech without screwing it up and changing the subject too many times. And now I have to give you a speech."

You smiled, a bit amused. "And, in a few words, what is this speech about?"

"Uhm. Well. I can think of a couple things." The Doctor looked away.

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that I want to kiss you. And go out with you."

You smiled, surprised. "On a date?"

"Yeah, sure. I just need to figure out the speech first."

"The speech to ask me out on a date?"

"Yes. I just need a second."

"Go right ahead. I'll wait."

He smiled. "Thanks."

The Doctor spent more than a second with his thinking face on. Then, he realized what he just said, and looked at you with his eyebrows raised and his lips parting without making a sound. You laughed, hugging him. It didn't take long to hug you back.

"I'll go on a date with you, Doctor" you said, kissing him on the cheek and causing him to blush. "However many dates you want."

"No speech needed?" he asked, smirking.

"No speech needed" you replied.

[pixeldistractions]

She made this camper so cozy. Who would have thought you could bake bread from scratch in a Dutch oven over the campfire? She served blackberry preserves on toast, planted herbs in tiny pots on the counter, then she filled the produce baskets with actual fresh produce. “That’s what they’re there for, silly,” she said. She watched camper hack videos on YouTube—a cutting board over the sink for more counter space. How clever. She noted the dimensions, and he cut it to size for her. She bought string lights to hang under the awning, a decorative citronella candle for the picnic table.

“You shouldn’t buy so much,” he said. “You don’t need to. If you wait, I’ll buy it for you.”

But he couldn’t, not really, not while also fixing the solar panel and manifesting walls out of scraps and sending back money for his boys. She shouldn’t have to wait for her home to feel homey. He wanted her to feel at home here, so he kept quiet and tried not to notice if she went to Target again for throw blankets or rugs, or towel racks and pot holders. He would just unbox the hardware and install it for her.

It was a silly idea anyway that if they lived simply enough, frugally enough, he might provide everything they needed and wanted, and maybe he could imagine himself the exact opposite of the freeloading loser Colette always said he was.

But Jordan did pick up some work. Very good work, actually. He snagged a small contract with a local university, upgrading their dorm plumbing, and that would keep him occupied for a couple of weeks. It was a nice chunk of change, though of course, Colette would want some of it.

Still, he would have enough money to finish the last of the major repairs. Finally. The only thing left was to replace the solar battery converter, ironically, now that they were plugged into the power grid.

The nights were longer now, but still cozy enough in the lower altitudes of Nevada to spend the evenings outside. They had dinner by the sunset’s last light, then they settled in beside the campfire.

“You don’t have to spend all your money on that battery thing,” she said. “I can pay for some of it.”

“No, you don’t have to. I’ll just pick up a couple more jobs.”

He was weird about taking her money, and she wondered why?

“Okay, I need you to talk to me,” she said, hushed, after taking note that Johanna wasn’t paying any attention to them.

He looked startled, like he was in trouble. She smiled. “No, it’s not like that, don’t worry,” she said. “But, there’s something I’ve been wondering about… why don’t you want me to pay for anything?”

His eyebrows raised, lips pinched.

She stroked his fingers while he refrained from answering her question. “You’re my best friend, you know?”

“You’re mine, too,” he said.

“And best friends tell each other things.”

“I’m… embarrassed of it.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“Okay…” An audible swallow, a slight squirm, a deep breath. “I was younger, twenty-two, after my dad died. I was in a lot of trouble with the foreclosure and some credit debts. So when Colette and I got friendly again, I let her help me out with it. But it didn’t stop there. It was like I would never live that down for the rest of my life, like even after I paid her back, no matter how much money, no matter how much effort, no matter that I stayed home with the boys for two whole years while she finished school, I could never pay her back enough to be even. I still can’t.”

“First, that’s really cruel,” Maria said. “Second, I wouldn’t do that to you. Third, it’s only $800, we can go halves.”

“Yeah, it’s only $800, then I can earn that much in three jobs. Will you let me?”

Every time she felt she might have found an opening to confess her terrible secret wealth, the moment proved to be exactly wrong. “Yeah, of course. But next time, I’ll help. Deal?”

“Sure. But you need to let me make it up to you for all those cozy pillows you bought,” he said, smirking now. She was glad to see that startled panic gone.

“Those pillows were nothing,” she said. “I got them in the clearance section.”

She didn’t know how to tell him that the battery converter would make barely a dent in her savings, and she also wasn’t convinced he would see that as a good thing. It seemed important that he paid for this himself. So she would let him. This time.

— “boxes and squares #5.2: come down from the clouds” (2/10)

previously: a freeloading loser // that money is not for spending on your boyfriend

Next -> // 5.2 start // index

[psikonauti]

Ashley Norwood Cooper (American, b. 1970)

Girl with a Rabbit (Blackberry Pickers), 2022

Oil on wood panel

[solarpunkfool]

You wake up. The sunlight filters through the tree branches leafing outside your window, and you hear the birds calling (the birds are back, populations returning in the thousands, then millions as air pollution lessens and climate patterns rebalance). You head to your kitchen and make yourself a morning drink, coffee or tea, pouring the spent grounds into your countertop compost bin - municipal pick-up is tomorrow, you remind yourself. You put the paper wrapper from the tea/coffee into the recycling bin. There are no trash bins anymore, no plastic to throw away. 

You get ready for your day, putting on your clothing, soft cotton/linen/wool that won’t last much longer than you when you’re done with it. You message your work friends on your slightly clunkier, but infinitely repairable smart phone - you’ll meet them at the local light rail stop. You summon a link (a free, sometimes remote controlled, publicly available cab service - serviced by the municipality, and fully electric). You make sure to give yourself a little extra time than you did when you had a gas car, since the links travel more slowly and carefully, but that’s ok, because the streets are safe for tricycles, bikes, dog-walkers, nighttime deer, errant soccer balls, and neighborhood cats. You spend the time before it arrives watering your backyard garden, and you chat with your neighbor who has just finished picking blackberries from the vines along your fence. She tells you she’ll make cobbler and bring you some later. You’re grateful, since you never have time to bake when you’d rather be spending time with your family. Your phone alerts you when your link arrives, and you head out. There’s another neighbor in the link already, and you’re both headed to the light rail stop. You chat about the weather, how the trees that were planted en masse all those years ago have kept the summers so much cooler and the winters so much milder. He jokes about not having to mow the grass in his yard nearly as much as he used to, after the ordinances for planting slower-growing native plants. He shows you a picture of how well his garden is doing, and you mention your neighbor and the blackberries. His eyes widen, and he mentions that he’s never been able to get berries to grow. You take his information and promise to invite him over for cobbler sometime next week. 

You arrive at the light rail stop and walk under the fully green bridge (for animals to cross safely, and to keep the station cool) to meet your friends. You exchange notes about how your efforts are doing, what you think should be improved as you board the nearly silent electric train. You look out the window as you travel deeper into the city and watch as the green of trees along roads and sidewalks never lessens, the dullness of concrete doesn’t increase. With the links available and so few private cars on the streets, the size of the roads has decreased, making more room for trees, playgrounds, gardens, and wildflower patches. You see what used to be a concrete and brick center berm taken over by the boxy outlines of beehives, surrounded on both sides (what used to be narrow sidewalks) with fruit tree orchards. 

You arrive at your destination and disembark, walking with your colleagues to your building. It’s still a highrise, mostly concrete and glass, but the rooftop terraces are fully green spaces and the glass panels are permeable solar panels, drinking in the sun’s energy like the plants that stretch across its roof. You spend your day leading your team in delivering top quality services, eat lunch at the free market kitchen down the street, and then head home. Your work day is 5 hours long, with an hour for lunch. 

When you get home, your partner and child are there already, playing in the street on your kiddo’s new bike. The street is quiet and safe. You breathe deeply, smelling absolutely no car exhaust. 

You meet your neighbors at the community house (every neighborhood has one), where there’s always a free dinner if you want one. You don’t like to cook, so you don’t offer to take a shift, but you help clean up. Your partner mentions taking your kiddo to the doctor for a possible ear infection, but it turns out they just had a bug bite in their ear. You laugh about it. The doctor’s appointment cost nothing, just as your dinner does. You can cook at home, but why would you? You could eat alone, and sometimes you do, but today you want to laugh and talk with your neighbors and let your kiddo play with theirs. You and your partner help the clean up team after dinner, washing your own dishes and a few others’ so it all gets done. The dishes aren’t perfect, chipped and older, but who cares when the food is free. 

You and your family walk home and meet your old dog on the porch. He snorts and snuffles your child’s hair and leans in for pets. 

You go in and put your kiddo to bed. You spend the rest of the evening watching tv or reading with your partner. You talk about your day. You see the news that more sustainable grazing practices mean that the rainforest has advanced by nearly 2,000 feet this year, dark soil and thick tree roots spreading outward, crowns capturing more and more carbon from the air. You hear that the tigers and snow leopards, elephants and rhinos, are all increasing in population. 

It starts to rain. You are thankful you don’t have to water the garden tonight. You and your partner head to bed, and you think - this is my life. I am leaving a planet to my child that they will WANT to inhabit. Sure, there wasn’t steak on my plate tonight, but my belly is full and my air is clean and my home is safe. You dream sweetly, thinking of dandelions sprouting up through cracks in concrete, deer and foxes walking through breaks in fences, children swimming in clean water.

[scopostims]

poison ivy stimboard with themes of plant and decay for 🦭 anon :•]

[ID: A 3x3 stimboard.

GIF 1: A timelapse of grey and muted blue bacteria growing.

GIF 2: Light-skinned hands opening a glass terrarium moss and mist inside, the most slowly pouring out of the opening.

GIF 3: Someone holding a dark brown mushroom upside down, thick spore clouds pouring out of it and blowing in the wind.

GIF 4: A timelapse of a plant growing out of the dirt, its first leaves spreading out.

Image: A comic panel Poison Ivy from DC comics crossing her arms.

GIF 5: Medium light-skinned hands picking ripe blackberries from clusters of ripe and unripe berries.

GIF 6: A timelapse of mushrooms growing and decomposing.

GIF 7: Light-skinned hands lightly packing dirt around the base of a plant.

GIF 8: A timelapse of a cluster of small brown mushrooms dying.

End ID]

[tea-withnofixinsplease]

We're makin leaps and bounds with this whole sustainability thing since we moved from our apartment a few years ago. Whenever i feel like im not doin enough I lay out all the tiny swaps we've done on the table

we no longer by styrofoam cups and reuse the ones we have

We no longer use plastic plates, we either use glass or compostable ones (and throw the compostable ones in the compost)

Our building has solar panels for electricity

Our soaps are zero/low waste

My mother and I started our loc journey so its much easier to find all-natural, plastic free hair care

I use reusable pads

I don't buy new clothes often if at all, 4 shirts in the last 7 years

3/5 of us eat strictly plant-based bc we're vegan,

We have an indoor hydroponic system growing leafy greens, tomatoes, peppers and fruits, and we bought seeds in bulk. We're planning on swapping rockwool cubes with reusable and compostable hemp fiber cubes

Since the hydroponic system is so bright, and the led lights last for 5 years at a time, we use the living area lights much less, opting for natural sunlight if the hydroponic system is not enough or is off.

We have a bokashi indoor compost bin for food scraps, and an outdoor cold compost bin for the scraps that cant go in the bokashi bin to make our own soil

We started a kitchen garden, and a pollinator/tea garden, and as of 2023 we now have a plum tree, a grapevine, two blackberry bushes, 5 reusable grow bags, 4 big planters and 2 big raised garden beds, lookin forward to fruits and vegetables in the spring, summer, fall and winter. We're planning to buy one more steel raised bed to ensure that we are cycling through what we're growing each year to limit pest-control methods, even neem oil, and planning on purchasing a lot more perennials and native perennials/annuals.

This fall Im gonna purchase a mushroom growing chamber kit for more low waste vegan meat alternatives and to add some healthy mushroom soil to the compost cycle

Our laundry detergent is environmentally safe

Our washing machine is water-efficient

We have a fridge with a water filter for cooking and drinking water

We have reusable grocery store bags

Im gonna try to grow lufas next year to replace our kitchen sponges and steel wool scrubbing pads,

Our property is small, and our neighbors are not as social/gungho about bartering or Co-Op food gardening,

but I'm proud of wat we've done so far, and I can do a lot more, and I plan to do so, so any advice would be welcome

[elgascreamslikehell]

Well. I was tagged for WIP Wednesday (actually even for Tuesday but timezone) by my precious @pirrusstuff but as long as I'm a little in hell - i share a little only today, so just imagine it's Wednesday still.

There will be disclaimer. I added too much glass but i polish it with superglue.

It's stupid and messy and somehow i like it

It's still the same story btw. I actually even have something for fuck it Friday but I'm not sure I'll be able to share cause, you know, real life is a bitch.

He hits the panel again. Still nothing. He crawled here apparently just to die. Awesome. Brilliant. Fuck. Eddie hisses. He is an idiot, hands down. Way back is blocked, this way - he tries again - also blocked. So… He sits near the wall because standing here is really uncomfortable, the ceiling is too low. Well, at least he wasn't at the basement when the last saltpeter barrels exploded, so he avoided a very fast and messy death, now he would just sit here and wait and wait and… He laughs. Really, how could he be so much stupid. From the very beginning. He has to save a child, he has to save his army squad, he has to be a good husband, good father and good son. He tried and totally failed in every single part of this. Okay. No. He saved this girl. If they try and spend time taking him out also - they would also be stuck. It worth it. Yes. He saved the day. Not that he believes that himself.  Bobby should be furious. He was so strict with his no heroism stuff just to get this. Maybe they won't… His laughter becomes a little hysterical. Even if they're still searching for him - it's in the wrong place. So no chance… Okay, and what? Man the fuck up, Diaz. You made too many mistakes already, stand up and start to fix them for fuck sake. Your son is waiting for you. And you did promise! This tunnel is somewhere a hundred years old, most probably it's one of the prohibited tunnels, it makes sense in the docks. Than this panel blocking the exit also should be quite old. Then fight, Eddie. You can't afford just sitting here! You were trained for this.  He closes his eyes and loudly exhales. Ok, he promised Evan that everything would be fine. Now he promises himself, he gets out and he talks to Buck. No matter what. They could still be friends after, right?  It's funny, when Eric said he's fine being a substitute - Eddie thought it's humiliating. But now he thinks that he would also be fine with this. If in this case they would still have Buck in their lives. And now it's not even about him, right? It's about Chris… and he should stop this. It's about him also. Fucking Buck. Fucking feelings. Fucking old door! He hits the panel again.

@krayfish @blackberry-l @kaseysgirl86-blog @brightlyprofiling @idealuk @1stbonesfan @angryangeldreamsalad @criminally-obsessed @amelia9bl @silvergold-swirl @itsamaaaadworld @vasudharaghavan @livingonzenstreet @nothingbutmande @spanishrose6 @sunflowerdiaiz @fanf98 @logicloveandsense @simply-mev @ronordmann @still--not--over--merlin @z02fl @vanjalen @thatshroomintheforest @steadfastsaturnsrings @cagdahl @newtalot @dreamforrest @fionaswhvre

[fyeah39clues]

SO I haven't finished the graphic novel (I'm like... almost halfway through?) but so far my biggest complaint is that, as opposed to keeping it set circa 2008, they updated it to be in the 2020s, with modern references and smart phones and contemporary fashions and the like

it's not enough to ruin the book for me, but, I dunno, I really enjoyed the original T39C books as a bit of a late-aughts time capsule. I miss Dan's giant clunky laptop, Nellie's iPod, and Mr. Wizard perpetually on his Blackberry. plus Dan's photographic memory has essentially been written out, they don't need it when they can just take photos of things.

it's not the worst complaint, I can see why they set it in modern times to appeal to kids picking it up for the first time, and that one panel of Jonah live-streaming is cute. idk I think I'm just nostalgic for the olden days perhaps

[good-realtor-bad-realtor-dynamic]

From the official Berlinale 2023 website

[thelustybraavosimaid]

In the past fortnight the royal party had been in Winterfell, Aemon was not without either Robb or Arya.

The latter always promised him some grand adventure, and more often than not the two of them burned the day away by playing silly games in the godswood until they were breathless and sweaty and dirty and succumbed to laughing fits, or giggling to themselves as they nick hot fresh loaves of bread or scones from the kitchens, but this day was different.

Today she led him to Winterfell's glass gardens, and he inspected the outside of it. Panes of glass were wedged between the thick slabs of granite stone that matched the castle. Aemon had been told before that Winterfell had been built upon a system of hot springs that fed through the stone like blood pumping in a man's body, and that seemed to be the case here as well. Moisture misted the inside of the garden, and the silhouettes of the workers within were distorted and darker shades of the green and yellow of the glass panels. Utterly unbothered by the presence of others, Arya held onto his hand and led him to the door, the glitter in her grey eyes as she looked back a little promise of adventure.

Who was he to deny his cousin on her name day?

The prince passed the threshold, and was taken with the deceptive size of the inside. Rows of assorted trees, fruits, vegetables, and flowers were sectioned off. Cherries and apples and squash, tulips and blueberries and raspberries, much and more spanned the length of the area. Cooks were tending to the vegetables in one section. Baskets of various sizes were filled with carrots and leeks and onions. They spared them a furtive glance from time to time, but generally paid them no mind.

Two things truly caught him. The first was the scent of the room itself, familiar and comforting, though this was his first tour of the gardens. It was warm and earthy, and it hit him that this was the smell that clung to Arya's skin. Wind and water and freshly tilled earth, blended into one as if the gardens themselves formed her. He took a deep breath, relaxing.

The second was how hot it was in here. Not hot enough to stifle one's breathing, but warm enough for perspiration to dot his brow. But despite the sweat on his hand, Arya's grip was still on his, tight and sure, and he continued to follow.

The air was very sweet here, and they stopped before a little field of shrubs. Blackberries, he thought, his mouth watering. Did she know the fruits were his favourite? Some of the five-petaled flowers were still in bloom, while fruit bore in other spots—some pink and red, unripe and sure to be sour, while others still were dark and ready for picking. Arya filled her hand with those, and offered them to him with a shy smile.

Aemon scooped up half with eager greed and shoveled them all into his mouth, relishing the taste. He felt the liquid dotting the seam of his lips. This is not princely, he thought, unbidden as his tongue subconsciously darted out, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Arya's cheeks were puffed with fresh fruit and the juice was already staining her lips a deep purple, a stream threatening to escape further and down to her chin, and he wanted to laugh at the sight. It didn't help that one of the cooks chased them off, slow and lumbering, telling them that they needed those berries for pies.

She wiped her mouth with the back of the hand. "I want you to see the flowers," she declared, jutting out her chin in a stubborn pout.

He nodded his assent.

Arya led him to the section of flowers, the sweet smell mingling with earth.

"I love the smell of this place," she confessed. "The covered bridge where you can see the whole of the yard is my second favourite spot."

He quirked a dark brow. "You never told me that you liked flowers."

"Why would I bring you here if I hated flowers, stupid?"

"Because you enjoy spending time with me, little cousin. The longer the better." He snorted, following her as she named more. Red flowers, blue, pink and purple, the colours of the rainbow were on full display. She plucked a sweet-smelling blue flower and brought it to her nose before reaching to tuck it behind his ear. "You are holding me hostage with games and adventure because you know how impossible it is to deny you anything. I can see right through you, Arya."

"It's my name day!" A ghost of a smile traced her lips. "Why wouldn't I want to show you my favourite spots?"

He ruined her hair further with a ruffle. "And that's why I'm here, little cousin." Though I'd still be here even if it weren't your name day.

Aemon's gaze travelled until he spotted a rosebush off in the distance. Now it was him leading her somewhere; he inspected the bush until he found one to his liking. Smiling, he withdrew the little blade his queen mother had gifted him and sliced it off with ease.

"What are you doing?" Curiosity littered her voice. The smile was still plastered on his face when he slanted his head.

"As thanks for the berries, allow me to make something for you." He ran the blade down the stem, slicing a few thorns off before he looked back up at her, raising a brow. "Do you object?"

She sucked her lip between her teeth and chewed. He took her silence for acceptance, and so he continued his work.

As his fingers danced, he had launched into a tale of how the Queen Lyanna taught him the names of various flowers, and he had committed them all to memory—gillyflowers and poppies, dragon's breaths and thistles and everything in between until she eventually plucked a red rose for him. Back then, he had taken the petals off, one by one, carefully twisting the stem to impale them on the thorns to mimic the one she wore, but then she picked another one and showed him how to make a flower crown proper. The queen's hands were strong as she cut off the thorns and twisted and wove, feeding one and then another through the weave. By the time she had finished, there were four fat roses sturdily braided in a thick tangle of stems, one for each side.

And remember, her lilting voice softened as she put the crown on him, no one wants to be pricked by thorns, Aemon. Make sure you remove every one.

Lost in his memory, Aemon followed her old instructions until it was well-fashioned enough for him to rest it on Arya's head, the weight making it sink in dark tufts. Instead of one on each side, he had made a crown of three roses littering in the front.

"My mother was my father's Queen of Love and Beauty," he said absently. "Father says she does her duty well, but sometimes I think she prefers the first crown he gave her."

His hand found her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Was it just him or was she...glowing? He was caught by surprise, and he found himself watching her. Sparkling grey eyes, a pink flush to the cheeks, a rough tumble of dark hair in loose northern braids, a smile as wild as she herself...she is pretty.

Very pretty.

He broke from his thoughts with a blink and a cleared throat. "There," he said, straightening. "Now you are my Queen of Love and Beauty."

[3mutantsinatrenchcoat]

Not gonna lie...I freaking love drawing salad, onion, blackberry, ......all the foodie siblings BUT OH MY FREAKING- WHY DID I PUT 10 IN ONE FREAKING PANEL WHYYY EUEUUUUUU

I LOVE THEM BUT MY HANDS OWIE AUGH AND ITS NOT JUST ONE PANEL ITS LIKE 4-5 PANELS OF THEM ALL IN VARIOUS EMOTIONS

[psikonauti]

Ashley Norwood Cooper (American, b. 1970)

Sharing (Blackberry Pickers), 2022

Oil on wood panel

[tundra-tiger]

Okay pic spam, I'm throwing my wip pics here, and my Rosethorn sideblog can be for tutorials and finished pieces ^^

This was yesterday before work's doing, made a mod podge and paint mix to be jam on bread and pie/tart filling!! I'm hoping that the little paper confetti looks like berry bits once I later on more of the mix, and that I can match the color-- it's a mix of two acrylics, because why do things easy?

Today I'm home sick, my meds have kicked in enough that I can be up and doing quiet, calm things, like carefully scraping texture into a dozen model magic macarons by hand X'D

Or making over sixty blackberries by hand!!

I originally meant to go back and try to give them that little-berry-blobs-stuck-together texture, but lemme tell you, I used up all my patience just keeping them from sticking to one another (and reshaping the ones that did touch and immediately fuse together -__-)

Between teaching kids how to mix colors with clay at work, and wanting to expand my own doll food collection without spending as much as Make It Minis charge (and the gambling aspect. Like, if I'm going for a fun surprise, it's great, but once you open your fifth red velvet bundt cake, the magic starts to run a little dry), I've been making a lot of model magic clay food. I like the texture and weight of it, dry and while working with it. I like being able to just keep some in a baggy and squishing/shaping it. I like how smoothly the colors blend

I also finally found a nice yellowish wood color paper!!! And it's a giant roll of it too!!

I have to cut it to scale, the wood is sized for 1:1 wood flooring, but layering the brown paper and then cutting my own wood panels works well so far. We'll see how it goes once it's done!

[librarycomic]

The Wolf Suit by Sid Sharp. Annick Press, 2022. 9781773217208. 126pp. with gorgeous endpapers. http://www.powells.com/book/-9781773217208?partnerid=34778&p_bt

Bellwether Riggwelter (a sheep) seems perfectly happy being alone in his house until he hears a noise in the forest -- a howling -- and it scares him. Then he runs out of blackberries and goes off to pick more despite his fear. This does not go well. So he decides to use his crafting skills to make himself a wolf suit to wear when he's in the forest. On his next foray into the woods, he meets some wolves, but then his disguise starts to unravel.

Sharp's fully painted graphic novel could be read to kids starting chapter books, and I think older kids would find it a quick, satisfying read, too. They took a lot of care with each illustration, small panels and two-page spreads alike, and the book is delightful. Its surprise ending is great, as is its message about pretending to be someone (or something) you're not.