#dropcloth

[boxthoughtsblog]

A quick CLOSER LOOK daily photo exercise - October 12, 2024

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[themightyif]

Transitional Dining Room - Dining Room Picture of a medium-sized transitional kitchen and dining room with light wood floors and dark floors.

[tarpswholesaler]

Plastic Poly Sheeting: A Multi-Purpose Protective Material for Your Works

It doesn’t matter if you are working on a renovation or a painting project or need storage solutions; plastic poly sheeting are handy in diverse projects. At The Tarps Wholesaler, you will find the latest in clear poly sheeting rolls and clear plastic poly sheeting rolls that are durable and effective.

[farmhouse40]

Dropcloth DIY

Have you ever been surprised to learn that those beautiful white linen-look drapes you see online are made of drop cloths? Choosing the appropriate curtains can be a real challenge. Cheap ones tend to look cheap, and high-quality ones can be pricey. Easy, inexpensive, and requiring no sewing, these Dropcloth DIY curtains are a great choice. The neutral tone of the canvas material means it will go with any color scheme you already have in your farmhouse.

[perspectivesusa]

[copperbadge]

[ID: Four images of my hall closet in various states of renovation; the first shows the closet with ugly old shelving still in it, and the second shows it covered in dirty streaks now that the shelves have been removed. The third image shows it sanded and partially painted in a light green (it's called "relish" by the paint company), with a dropcloth on the floor, and the last shows it fully painted, awaiting shelving.]

Closet is painted! I got paint all over myself as is my wont, but painting barefoot means that I know when I step in paint and don't track it everywhere, and I expect to get it in my hair and on my hands. A quart was the perfect amount to do the walls and one edge with nothing left over. Next year maybe I'll try doing the bathroom, it's one of the only rooms I haven't given a good lick of paint at this point.

I bought a freestanding shelving system from Ikea but so far only the uprights have arrived and not the shelves. Just as well, I'm done working for today in terms of cleaning. Though tomorrow I have a relatively full day and Sunday morning we're taking the stuff over to storage, so it may be Sunday afternoon before I get to actually install anything.

Mmm, that new paint smell. It's probably for the best I'm not sensitive to the off-gassing, though I am running both the central fan and a smaller fan nearby.

Anyway Monday should be interesting because the shelves will be up and the storage stuff away, but I need to spend the week making the place less of a fire/tripping hazard before I host a get-together on Black Friday.

[sreegs]

this afternoon i was finally ready to start sanding my walls in my office/guest bedroom in preparation for painting and installing new cabinets with more storage, with space for a full-ass queen sofa bed rather than a shitty fouton so my guests can sleep in luxury

anyways i pop all my dropcloths up, extra sealed the room because my kitty's got asthma. respirator on, goggles on. sander taken out of storage and slapped a fresh 180 grit sandpaper on it. start it up, and the fucking wheel dry rotted and goes flying off.

i was so ready for this

[shithowdy]

RESTORATION BEGINS. Everyone please send rancid vibes to whichever prior owner did a slapshod plaster ceiling job without a dropcloth, ruined the oak hardwood, and then just stapled carpet over it.

[biohazard-anon]

Summary: Tovoth and Zykord get into a fight.

Content warning: graphic description of eye/face trauma, blood, a little bit of hurt/comfort

(check pinned post for masterlist)

Tagged: @kit-williams @sleepyfan-blog @egrets-not-regrets @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

Authors note: I am so sorry this took so long, I've been really busy trying to plan a novel while writer's block has been kicking my ass.

Chapter 12

Kel'ath, Sephariel, and Iskandar storm down the twisting and turning hallways, each marine desparate to make it before a fight breaks out.

The blood angel spearheading the group suddenly stops, letting the other two catch up to him.

"Where are the medical supplies?"

Sephariel asks.

"It's spread out over the entire base, there's a supply room right next to the mess hall."

Kel'ath answers.

Sephariel speeds back up only to slip as he reaches the next corner.

The blood angel's armor screeches as he does, sending sparks flying everywhere before sliding into the next hallway with a shout.

Both Kel'ath and Iskandar help him up before the three of them continue on, this time at a slightly slower pace.

As they draw closer and closer, the sound of ceramite on ceramite and yelling gets louder and louder. Before suddenly quieting down.

Finally they arrive at the doors to the mess hall.

But before they can enter, A blur of red goes through the doors, landing hard enough against the opposite wall to dent it.

It was Zykord.

Tovoth comes thundering out a few seconds later. His usually pristine armor was scuffed up, revealing a layer of midnight blue underneath the usually red exterior. What really stands out is a large, weeping cut starting at his hairline and ending at his jaw.

He takes no time to rush into Sephariel's arms, clinging desparately to his brother.

Sephariel's hands gently take a hold of the battered scout's face, tilting it upwards to look at the wound better.

"I didn't want to fight him."

Tovoth mumbles.

"I know."

Sephariel soothes the scout.

Iskandar comes back around while sliding a large red box along the floor. He then pries it open and begins to dig through it.

"Alright, who needs what?"

The thousand son says.

"I need the smelling salts and a penlight."

The captain says, his hands busy with taking Zykord's helmet off and checking his pulse.

"And you?"

Sephariel's hands are relatively gentle as they tilt Tovoth's face towards the light, he frowns as he gets a better look at the injury.

"I need a suture kit, line, antiseptic, gauze, and sterile dropcloths. Come on Tovoth, let's get you cleaned up."

Sephariel then heads towards the kitchen, grabbing a chair along the way.

The younger blood angel follows his brother wordlessly, ignoring the feeling of eyes on him as he walks.

After the two astartes enter the kitchen Sephariel sets the chair down by the stainless steel table closest to the door before guiding Tovoth to the sink with him.

Iskandar comes in with the supplies as they both begin washing their hands.

"Do you guys need anything else?"

The blue and gold scout asks.

"If you could find Tovoth's helmet that would be great, Before you go what type of suture line did you grab?"

The older blood angel answers with a question.

"Uh, I grabbed nylon. Should I look for something else?"

Iskandar answers.

"Try to find vicryl and or silk."

Sephariel explains.

Iskandar places the supplies down on the nearby table and walks back out to look for the requested items.

"Go ahead and sit down Tovoth, it will take time to sterilize the tools."

Sephariel says. as he busies himself with looking for a pot.

Tovoth doesn't appear to listen, instead he stands by the sink and stares at the faucet head as it leaks, water droplets making a small sound against metal as it drips.

Plink.

Plink.

Plink.

When he zones back in there's a hand on his pauldron, helping him to halfway turn.

"Can you lean over? I need to flush your eye."

Sephariel answers, a bottle of clear fluid in his other hand.

The scout nods mutely before leaning over the sink's basin.

Sephariel unscrews the bottle's lid, angling the opening over Tovoth's injured and bloody eye before streaming the liquid over it

A hiss escapes the scout as one hand grips the edge of the sink while the other reaches outward towards his brother.

Sephariel quickly pushes his hand into the scout's, squeezing it as the last of the liquid pours out.

After the bottle is empty Sephariel helps Tovoth lean back up and leads him to the chair.

Tovoth sits down, a sigh escaping him as he does.

Iskandar comes back in carrying a small box in one hand and a helmet and chair under his other arm.

"I didn't know how much you needed, so I just brought the whole box."

He elaborates while setting down the chair and placing the helmet on the uncovered part of the table before handing over the small boxes.

After Sephariel sits down he opens the box, thumbing through the different types of suture material before pulling out two packets of catgut and two packets of silk and placing them down by the rolls of gauze before placing the box by Tovoth's helmet. After that he unrolls a strip of gauze and cuts it off, then cutting it in half before reaching for the bottle of antiseptic.

The older blood angel pops off the top and puts a strip of gauze on top and presses down several times to get it wet. Then he takes it and begins to scrub in small circles until the gauze is too bloody to use before disposing of it. He does this process again and again, avoiding Tovoth's eye until the rest of his face is cleaned up.

Sephariel then stands up and walks to the stove, grabbing the pot of boiling water and dumping the water into the nearby sink. He picks up the sterilized tools at the bottom of the pot and goes to sit back down in front of the injured scout. Laying the tools down on the dropcloth the older blood angel takes one of the packets of suture line and peels it open before picking up a few squares of gauze and dabbing away most of the blood, revealing a split in the lid where he could see the eye.

"This is worse than I thought. Iskandar would you be willing to lend a hand?"

The older blood angel asks as he disposes of the gauze.

"Of course! let me wash up first."

the thousand son hurries over to the sink after he replies. When he's done he steps back over and moves his chair closer to the two marines.

"What next?"

Iskandar questions.

"Take some of the gauze and wait, I will need you to clear away blood while I am working."

Sephariel answers while he manuvers the driver to grasp the curved needle in the open packet of suture material. He readjusts his grip on the surgical instraments in his hands while Iskandar cleans away the blood. Once Iskandar's hands are out of the way he begins, first by grabbing the edge of the injury with the forceps and using the driver to push the needle through just above the membrane against the globe. Then with the forceps he does this to the other side before pulling the edges together and tying a couple of knots to secure them.

Sephariel continues making stitches every quarter of an inch until the bottom lining of the eyelid is repaired.

Iskandar gently uses some gauze to wick away any new red droplets while the older blood angel fiddles with a different colored packet.

Then Sephariel starts again, grabbing the edge of skin with the forceps and and pushing the needle through, first bringing the edges of skin together then tying a couple of knots, doing it over and over until the eyelid is completely stitched up. Once he clips off excess line Sephariel scoots his chair back and stands up.

"Iskandar, could you grab the chairs please?"

Sephariel asks while he balls up the dropcloth in his hands and throws it into the trashcan.

"Already on it!"

Iskandar answers, already halfway out the door with a chair under each arm.

Sephariel chuckles, the rolling thunder of his voice full of mirth as he looks over at his brother, only to frown at the sight.

Tovoth was still sitting in the chair, his unfocused eyes staring at something in the distance.

Sephariel steps closer and places a gentle hand on his brother's pauldron, not missing the flinch when it makes contact. He kneels down before moving his hand to Tovoth's uninjured cheek and tilts his face towards his own.

"Why don't you go back to our room and wait for me while I talk to the captain, alright?"

Sephariel asks, his voice soft.

Tovoth suddenly pushes himself out of the chair and straight into his brother's arms, trembling as he does so.

"Okay, okay, I'll ask him to come by instead."

Sephariel answers. The two blood angels stand up before they begin walking out of the kitchen and through the mess hall. Iskandar is busy with pushing the crate back into the nearby supply closet when they step out into the hallway.

"Tell the captain I'll be waiting in my room to talk to him when he's done."

Sephariel says as he passes the thousand son.

"Sounds good!"

Iskandar answers back.

The trip back to their room is long, but uneventful. Once the door is closed Sephariel helps Tovoth pull his armor off peice by peice, setting the items on the designated stand before removing his own armor. Then Sephariel slides onto his bed and pats the space next to him. Tovoth curls crawls onto the bed, pushing himself into his brother's lap and curling his body around his midsection before leaning the uninjured side of his face against Sephariel's abdomen and sighing.

Sephariel wraps his arms around Tovoth as best as he can, one hand massaging the tense muscles in Tovoth's back to try and release the tension.

"Better?"

Sephariel asks.

"Yeah."

Tovoth answers back.

[tehnakki]

am i gonna paint the ceiling of my bedroom without bothering to put any dropclothes down?

you bet your ass i am. lol. gonna have so many random paint splotches on my mattress/carpet/floor. oh well. that's what happens.

[chainsawpunk]

Rochelle Feinstein, Plein Air VI, 2020, Acrylic, thread on cotton dropcloth 90 ½ × 125 in (229.87 × 317.50 cm)

[icouldhyperfixatehim]

another really strong ep holy shit. and also one that has me really wondering about p'aof's writing history - does anyone know has he written or directed for stage? obviously bad buddy is littered with stagecraft; the romeo and juliet, the play within a play structure, so many one to one conversations and actions that speak in quiet rooms. stories that are built largely off of the strength of two characters speaking to each other, literally or figuratively.

but the way i can see it carried through last twilight too is so fascinating to me. i'm thinking especially of night and his ripped from stagecraft line a lá "the hero enters, and so the villain must exit" and literally taking his leave to the camera's wings beyond the lens. and The Kiss. another rooftop kiss, like bad buddy, like a tale of 1000 stars kiss on the top of the mountain. all i can see is how incredibly stageable these moments are. a dropcloth painted background, the right lighting, a little prop ledge to give it perspective...setting these emotionally intimate, quietly explosive moments against boundless backdrops. giving so much AIR to them, giving characters their room to breathe.

he writes/directs/envisions like a stagecraftsman first - and then completes the vision with some of the best elements cinema can offer that stage can't - close ups, scenes that move through irl locations, camera as performer and informer. it's just magical. because it's all in service of story. it feels so whole. what an auteur he is.

[possumsandprose]

Hello, fellow Elriel!

This is your Elriel Month fic exchange announcement. Remember to not post this Ask until the days of your prompt (feel free to post your fic directly to this ask). 

Gifting: @slytherhys

Prompt: Endless Possibilities

Tropes: Fluff, Hurt/comfort, HEA, AU

Send @elriel-month an ask if you have any questions. Can’t wait to read it! 🦇🌹

Happy @elriel-month @slytherhys from your gifter!

This fic was inspired by a conversation I had with @shallyne a few months ago as well as my own desire to read a fic with Elain adopting a bunch of children. I hope you love this!

Warnings: nothing really, it's just a ton of fluff. Slight mentions of past abuse maybe?

Word count: 1.8 K

Loud shouts of glee filled the air around Elain as she pulled another sheet of muffins out of the oven. A small smile grew on her lips as she thought of the small children who would soon come charging in to grab the sweets before they were all gone.

Elain dusted her flour-coated hands on her apron, looking out the window and surveying the scene outside. Around 40 children of all sizes were out there, some Illyrian, some fae, and some were species of lesser fae that she didn’t recognize. That didn’t stop her from loving every child like her own, though. Small groups had broken off to play tag, while some of the older ones were playing something that looked like dodgeball.

Amongst the trees she Emeline, her eldest. With her black hair, brown eyes, and dark skin she was the spitting image of her father, and like her father wisps of shadows swirled over the surroundings. In Emeline’s arms was the youngest, Aurelia, at just 10 months old. 

A loud crash sounded from the entryway, announcing her sister’s arrival. Sure enough, when Elain peeked out of the kitchen, Feyre was on the floor, having tripped over a potted plant. Elain shook her head in amusement. Many words could be used to describe her sister, but coordinated was not one of them. 

Offering her a hand, Elain grinned, and the two walked to the back rooms of the orphanage together.

“Elain! I’m so sorry about your plant. I swear sometimes I could trip over the air. Anyway, I wanted to wish you a happy anniversary! I can’t believe you’ve already had your 50th anniversary, and that this place is now officially 25 years old. It’s so incredible what you’ve done with the place,” Feyre said excitedly.

Elain could hardly believe it either. 50 years since she married the love of her life, and 25 years since she’d begun to fulfill her dream. 

Feyre continued, “I’m delighted that this has turned out so well, not only for the sake of the children but for you and Azriel as well. I know you always wanted a big family, and all of the little ones are just like my own nieces and nephews.”

“For sure,” Elain replied, “I love each and every one of them. I’m glad I could make a difference in their lives.”

The war had been brutal on many families, leaving lots of children orphaned. In addition, lots of Illyrian children had been abandoned or abused by their parents for lots of reasons. The reason never mattered though, all were welcome here. 

The sisters reached the end of the hall, and Elain unlocked the double doors that led into a room covered in dropcloths, with easels and canvases already set out and waiting.

“Oh Elain, you are a dear. I about burned all those tarps in anger last time I tried to hang them up. Anyway, if you want to go give the little gremlins their sweets, I can get the paints out and ready,” Feyre said, already pulling things out of the supply closet.

Despite how busy she was being High Lady and all of the duties that came with being the mother of 4 children, Feyre always carved time out of her week to give art classes here, for which Elain was eternally grateful.

So many of the young found comfort in painting or sculpting, or whatever it was they chose. Others simply enjoyed the freedom that art allowed and preferred to go crazy.

Elain left her sister to it, returning to the kitchen and banging the loud bell by the window. Everyone turned to look at her, and she beckoned at them. Not long afterward a mad rush of people entered, and quickly everyone spread out onto the cushions, chairs, and couches in the living area. 

In the back was Emeline, though the baby had been passed over to her middle child, Edward. Being fully blind, Elain’s eldest was always very hesitant about being near the crowds, but Edward had a heart of gold and looked out for her at all times. 

They too sat down, and Elain left to go clean the dormitories. As she gathered up all the linens into her massive wicker basket, she thought about just how much the building they were in had changed.

Azriel had first told her about this place some 30 years ago, having found it while he was away on a scouting mission. He told her he’d gone inside and had found a small group of children of varying ages huddled by a dying fire. 

He’d immediately gone back to her and asked if she could make some food because all of them looked like they hadn’t eaten in days. That made sense, too, since in the dead of Illyria’s winters you’d be lucky to find even just one of the bony mountain birds with not enough meat on it for a baby. 

Elain had jumped into action, making her favourite hearty soup recipe, and while it was cooking she had gathered all the blankets, wraps, towels, and whatever else she could find in the River House. 

The children were at first quite scared, but eventually, after Elain (and Azriel, when he could) visited them for a few weeks they began to open up.

The eldest, Blair, was the unofficial mother of the group, and she was doing all she could to support the others. Blair had a younger sister, Sabeena, but the rest were all similarly abandoned or orphaned with nowhere else to go. 

Working as a maid and doing some other odd jobs got them a few small coins for clothes, but not much more. The dilapidated cabin, most likely once a hunting lodge, was in dire need of repairs, but it sufficed well enough to keep the cold out.

But as Elain found out, Blair had gotten faeriepox recently, a nasty illness that due to a lack of medical care had taken her out for weeks on end. And without the money she brought in and without local game to hunt, there was nothing.

Elain’s heart shattered listening to the story, different parts told by all the children. Most were Illyrian, with all of the females’ wings displaying the brutal clipping scars, though there were a few males in the group. 

After that, it had been her personal mission to provide for the group who, in Elain’s eyes, were now just as much her children as her own daughter. Rhysand and Feyre, once they’d found out about it, were only too happy to provide her with funds and support to transform the tiny hut into a huge building with proper insulation, real beds, running water, and a stocked kitchen.

Feyre had told her in private how much it reminded her of the cottage they used to grow up in, and Elain had to agree. The young ones hadn’t looked much different than she and her sisters used to when they were poor, and the haggard look of a person hunting for food that couldn’t be found was all too familiar. She suspected that was one of the reasons Feyre was so impassioned now about the restoration and upkeep here because Feyre rightfully believed that no child should have to experience what they did. 

25 years ago on this day, the orphanage opened its doors for the first time to anyone who wanted to stay. At first not much happened, but eventually people started to trickle in. Lesser fae with skin all hues of the rainbow, Illyrian children with scars so horrific it made Elain want to cry, even a few high fae, and though nothing looked physically wrong with them, Elain knew deep in her heart they had seen more than anyone should ever have to.

And that was how it was, 25 years later. Anyone and everyone was welcome to stay for as long as they wanted-whether just for food or to move in until they found a way to support themselves. It was the pride and joy of Elain’s life, running this place. She’d dreamed of having a big family ever since she was a little girl, and now, finally, it had come true. 

As Elain turned around, arms full with the baskets of laundry, she ran right into a solid wall covered in leather.

“Hello to you too, darling,” came the soft, melodious voice she loved so much.

“Az!” she squealed in glee, abandoning the basket on the floor in favour of jumping into her husband’s arms. He swept her up in a kiss, hugging her close.

“Happy anniversary, love. I can’t believe it’s been 50 years,” said Elain breathlessly. 

“It’s been the best 50 years of my life. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I thank the Mother and the Cauldron and whatever else is up there that I get to spend the rest of my life with you,” he told her. Even after all this time, Elain’s heart still fluttered like it was their first time whenever he said that he loved her.

Their moment was interrupted by a soft babbling noise down below, and Elain felt a tiny hand tugging on the hem of her dress. There on the ground was Aurelia, having toddled her way in to find them. Her tiny wings beat uselessly behind her, which never failed to amuse any of her family. 

Rhys had told her that Illyrians usually began to fly at around age 5, but until then her wings wouldn’t do much than make her more prone to accidents. 

Az’s shadows swirled down to meet his daughter as they always did, and she squealed in delight while trying to grab them. 

A soft smile flitted on the shadowsinger’s face watching his baby play with his shadows, and Elain thought back to the first time he held Emeline.

She remembered how excited he’d been when she’d told him she was pregnant, but also terrified at the prospect of being a father. He worried constantly that he would frighten or harm the child accidentally, no matter how many times Elain reassured him that that would never happen. 

It had never really sunk in, though, until the first time he held Emeline in his arms, and his shadows had come out curiously to investigate. Emeline had been born blind, and so watching as she giggled with the tickling sensation of shadows swirling around her seemed to finally have persuaded Azriel that he would not be like his father, and that he would love and care for his children no matter what. 

Azriel scooped Aurelia into his arms, and the three of them left for the dining room. They looked out at their big, happy family, and standing there, with her husband and her children, Elain had never felt more at home.

[mrvelocipede]

My old tea cozy was falling apart, so I have knitted a new one out of cotton yarn. The glass vase used to belong to one of my great-aunts. I wish my dropcloth was less hideously wrinkled, but I do not currently have the means to iron it.

[perspectivesusa]

Unleash Your Creativity with the Best Painting Tools in Lexington

Elevate your painting projects with high-quality painting tools available in Lexington. From brushes and rollers to sprayers and drop cloths, we offer a comprehensive range of tools to ensure a flawless finish. Whether you're a DIY enthusiast or a professional painter, our selection caters to all skill levels and needs, making every stroke a masterpiece.

[cartoonscientist]

if you want a laugh, google “human vs velociraptor” or “would a velociraptor kill a human”; you’ll find lots of references to their razor sharp claws and teeth and their size being described as larger than a cougar or on par with a grizzly bear

in reality, a human could absolutely defeat a velociraptor bare handed with a solid football punt because they looked like this:

Jurassic Park did my little bros so dirty

in short, if you’re ever offered some kind of deal for your life by a time traveling scifi villain, bet them that if they bring you a velociraptor you can subdue it with a dropcloth