#glues

[woodelf68]

Does anyone know of a glue that would be food safe for repairing a cracked plastic microwave dish? Silicone has been mentioned but that just forms a bead of glue that can be pulled off, more for repairing a seal in a coffee maker, not something like the inside surface of a dish that's going to have to be washed after every use. I haven't found anything yet that everyone agrees is definitely safe for both heating food in, use as a serving dish, and storage. (And we haven't been able to find anything similar to buy to replace the old plates with.)

[under-sleeping]

My friends get to hear about what kinds of glue I like. They have no choice, I have opinions about glue

[bargainshouse]

#UKDEALS LFCFBH 2PCS Waterproof Fabric Glue for Clothes, Craft Glue, Machine Washable Dry Clean (30Ml) https://www.bargainshouse.co.uk/?p=127354 https://www.bargainshouse.co.uk/?p=127354

[vzel]

"Which adhesive should I use"

[pukicho]

Oi oi oi... My original release, Spirited Away Away Away Away Away Away is now REMASTERED. Six years, and lotsa newfound knowledge on mastering later, and here we are. Now you may listen to it as though your ears have been UNMASKED, cleaned of mud and sludge.

And for those asking, BANDCAMP will start getting new things often,

Check out the song on BANDCAMP IN LOSSLESS + Hear the difference between the old version :)

And on Soundcloud too!

[sourdough-seal]

“omg I love that show!” yeah me too it makes up 34% of my core personality. unfortunately i can’t discuss it in public without having a meltdown

[cursed-frog]

Spoiler for phils next main channel video

[aethersea]

another thing fantasy writers should keep track of is how much of their worldbuilding is aesthetic-based. it's not unlike the sci-fi hardness scale, which measures how closely a story holds to known, real principles of science. The Martian is extremely hard sci-fi, with nearly every detail being grounded in realistic fact as we know it; Star Trek is extremely soft sci-fi, with a vaguely plausible "space travel and no resource scarcity" premise used as a foundation for the wildest ideas the writers' room could come up with. and much as Star Trek fuckin rules, there's nothing wrong with aesthetic-based fantasy worldbuilding!

(sidenote we're not calling this 'soft fantasy' bc there's already a hard/soft divide in fantasy: hard magic follows consistent rules, like "earthbenders can always and only bend earth", and soft magic follows vague rules that often just ~feel right~, like the Force. this frankly kinda maps, but I'm not talking about just the magic, I'm talking about the worldbuilding as a whole.

actually for the purposes of this post we're calling it grounded vs airy fantasy, bc that's succinct and sounds cool.)

a great example of grounded fantasy is Dungeon Meshi: the dungeon ecosystem is meticulously thought out, the plot is driven by the very realistic need to eat well while adventuring, the story touches on both social and psychological effects of the whole 'no one dies forever down here' situation, the list goes on. the worldbuilding wants to be engaged with on a mechanical level and it rewards that engagement.

deliberately airy fantasy is less common, because in a funny way it's much harder to do. people tend to like explanations. it takes skill to pull off "the world is this way because I said so." Narnia manages: these kids fall into a magic world through the back of a wardrobe, befriend talking beavers who drink tea, get weapons from Santa Claus, dance with Bacchus and his maenads, and sail to the edge of the world, without ever breaking suspension of disbelief. it works because every new thing that happens fits the vibes. it's all just vibes! engaging with the worldbuilding on a mechanical level wouldn't just be futile, it'd be missing the point entirely.

the reason I started off calling this aesthetic-based is that an airy story will usually lean hard on an existing aesthetic, ideally one that's widely known by the target audience. Lewis was drawing on fables, fairy tales, myths, children's stories, and the vague idea of ~medieval europe~ that is to this day our most generic fantasy setting. when a prince falls in love with a fallen star, when there are giants who welcome lost children warmly and fatten them up for the feast, it all fits because these are things we'd expect to find in this story. none of this jars against what we've already seen.

and the point of it is to be wondrous and whimsical, to set the tone for the story Lewis wants to tell. and it does a great job! the airy worldbuilding serves the purposes of the story, and it's no less elegant than Ryōko Kui's elaborately grounded dungeon. neither kind of worldbuilding is better than the other.

however.

you do have to know which one you're doing.

the whole reason I'm writing this is that I saw yet another long, entertaining post dragging GRRM for absolute filth. asoiaf is a fun one because on some axes it's pretty grounded (political fuck-around-and-find-out, rumors spread farther than fact, fastest way to lose a war is to let your people starve, etc), but on others it's entirely airy (some people have magic Just Cause, the various peoples are each based on an aesthetic/stereotype/cliché with no real thought to how they influence each other as neighbors, the super-long seasons have no effect on ecology, etc).

and again! none of this is actually bad! (well ok some of those stereotypes are quite bigoted. but other than that this isn't bad.) there's nothing wrong with the season thing being there to highlight how the nobles are focused on short-sighted wars for power instead of storing up resources for the extremely dangerous and inevitable winter, that's a nice allegory, and the looming threat of many harsh years set the narrative tone. and you can always mix and match airy and grounded worldbuilding – everyone does it, frankly it's a necessity, because sooner or later the answer to every worldbuilding question is "because the author wanted it to be that way." the only completely grounded writing is nonfiction.

the problem is when you pretend that your entirely airy worldbuilding is actually super duper grounded. like, for instance, claiming that your vibes-based depiction of Medieval Europe (Gritty Edition) is completely historical, and then never even showing anyone spinning. or sniffing dismissively at Tolkien for not detailing Aragorn's tax policy, and then never addressing how a pre-industrial grain-based agricultural society is going years without harvesting any crops. (stored grain goes bad! you can't even mouse-proof your silos, how are you going to deal with mold?) and the list goes on.

the man went up on national television and invited us to engage with his worldbuilding mechanically, and then if you actually do that, it shatters like spun sugar under the pressure. doesn't he realize that's not the part of the story that's load-bearing! he should've directed our focus to the political machinations and extensive trope deconstruction, not the handwavey bit.

point is, as a fantasy writer there will always be some amount of your worldbuilding that boils down to 'because I said so,' and there's nothing wrong with that. nor is there anything wrong with making that your whole thing – airy worldbuilding can be beautiful and inspiring. but you have to be aware of what you're doing, because if you ask your readers to engage with the worldbuilding in gritty mechanical detail, you had better have some actual mechanics to show them.

[livetogether--diealone]

6'2'' weighted blanket with attachement issues

[teaboot]

YOOOOO CHECK THIS SHIT OUT I FOUND BATTERY-OPERATED AM/FM RADIO HEADPHONES

I’M NEVER USING WIFI DATA SPOTIFY ITUNES YOUTUBE MUSIC APP SHIT OUTSIDE MY HOUSE EVER AGAIN

[merlinmylove]

I adore it when Merlin goes away for a few days in a fanfic and all hell breaks loose

Arthur is grumpy because he misses Merlin and he hates it when anyone other than Merlin dress him. His hair is a mess and his clothes are crumpled, he’s missing one shoe but no one wants to tell him

The knights are walking in eggshells around him. Leons hair is going grey, and Lancelot is seen drinking wine during the council meetings

Gwaine is missing presumed dead

The kitchen is in a disarray, the usual schedules and menus are not being updated now that Merlin is gone

Bills have not been paid and new orders are not coming in. The merchants and fishermen are pissed. No one realises how much Merlin is actually on top of and how many people he has in his network

The Head Steward is scrambling to keep up with all the work Merlin seemingly did in his spare time. Some servants are wandering aimlessly with no tasks provided, while others are busy trying to finish up all the chores Merlin does in his sleep

Somehow the Kingdom is still standing (but just barely)

George is crying into the laundry (they ran out of soap two days ago because no one was instructed to make more) Merlin was always on top of these small things that most people overlooked — but now that he was gone, everything crumbled

Gwen could probably fix most of these issues, but has instead decided to go on strike on principle

There have been seven failed assassination attempts on the King. The Royal Spymaster is fired once Leon realised that Merlin is the unofficial spymaster

When The Royal Library and Mapmakers Guild requested a substitute scribe for the few days Merlin was away, everyone looked confused. For how long has Merlin helped them out too? Elyan volunteered, if only to get out of training

Mordred considers moving back in with the Druids and leave Camelot (this is not what he signed up for)

The council is in hiding for fear of further angering the King — one Lord mentioned Merlin by name and Arthur threatened to banish him, and since then no one has dared to speak his name again

Gaius officially retires and moves into a cottage

Merlin returns three days later like “what happened?!”

[infinityinakiss]

okay, so you know that theory that series 14 is a tv show, that's why there are so many fourth wall breaks, etc, etc. well, what if we had a weeping angels episode this season? it's the climax of the episode, ruby and the doctor are surrounded by angels when...nothing happens. they forcibly close their eyes just to check, but the angels aren't moving. the doctor does his signature rambling as he tries to figure out what happened, and then it dawns on him. he turns slowly, stares directly into the camera and says "oh. it's you. all of you. you're why they can't move." the doctor starts jumping around, shakes ruby for a bit (and ruby's just like wut the hell is going on), does a thing with the sonic screwdriver before starting to run when he suddenly stops and turns back. looking directly into the camera, he says "don't blink." and then he runs off to save the day.

couple minutes later, he tells ruby to stare at some angels that were out of frame by saying "babes, the camera angle's changed."

[rookanisstuff]

The Dellamortes

[crystallized-cheese]

so like imagine Undertale characters but they're all crafts supplies Part Five (Sans and Papyrus) (Undyne and Alphys) (Toriel and Asgore) (Frisk and Flowey)

[syoddeye]

you scurry into the bookshop from the cold, the door slamming shut behind you with the breeze.

the warmth inside feels like a slap after the bitter chill, and your glasses immediately fog over, clouding your vision in a steamy blur. you pause, fumbling with your mittens, distracted by your own breath bouncing back at you behind your scarf, making it worse. you step forward without thinking.

and immediately regret it. your shoulder slams into something hard and solid, like a wall. except the wall shifts, and a deep voice hisses down at you.

“fuckin’—we in a rush? watch where you’re—”

“sorry!” you blurt out, flinching back.

the voice halts. just stops, snipped mid-sentence. you’re scrabbling to pull your mittens off now, fingers clumsy and frantic. the fog persists, blinding, smothering, your breath quickening and making the condensation worse.

“shit, shit, sorry—”

then a hand settles on your shoulder.

a low, rasping hehehe rattles from above. “can’t see a thing, can ya? ‘old still.”

you freeze, mittens half-off, mouth hanging open in protest as something dark moves toward your face.

“uh, what are you—oh, you don’t have to…”

a thumb drags black fabric gently over one of the lenses. the fog clears in a small oval, revealing part of the stranger’s face, his deep brown eyes. you try to crane your neck for a better look, but the hand on your shoulder shifts to your chin, steadying it.

“keep still.”

your mouth shuts and your pulse stutters. his thumb and forefinger pinch just firmly enough to hold your head in place. he clears the second lens, and when he withdraws the fabric, you finally see him.

he wears a thick, cloth mask, the loops disappearing beneath the edges of a matching hat. though most of his face is hidden, you notice the faint scar cutting across the end of one blond eyebrow, a few faded freckles dusting his forehead. the scarf around his neck hangs loose, one end caught in his hand, which he drops once he seems satisfied with his work.

“there,” he says, leaning back a fraction to examine you. his eyes crinkle at the edges, amused. he must be smiling. “look at those eyes.”

you blink up at him, and you’re hyper-aware of your own breathing. careful not to exhale too hard, in case you fog everything up again.

“thanks.”

his thumb, still resting lightly on your chin, moves in a small, absent circle. he hums, low in his throat, and then lets go.

“of course, sweet’eart.”

for a second, you just stand there. five seconds, maybe. you’re the one who breaks the silence by awkwardly stepping away.

“okay, yep, thanks again.” you say, words knocking into each other like you knocked into him.

you retreat further into the shop, yanking at your mittens until they’re off and stuffed into your pockets. your scarf is next, practically ripped from your neck, the heat of your own embarrassment prickling at your skin all over.

what just happened? should you have said something? made a point of how weird that was? because it was weird. right?

you circle the horror section three times before your heart rate evens out, but even then, you’re not really seeing the shelves. the titles run together, and your mind drifts back to him—his hand on your chin, the soft way he said sweetheart.

your glasses are clear, but you’re stuck in a haze.

simon was just supposed to kill time, having arrived arrived early to meet price. except now he’s going to be late, for the first time in ages, to a meeting with his captain.

it’s difficult to hide in a shop where he’s taller than most of the shelves, but he’s careful. doesn’t take much of an effort anyway, she’s preoccupied by the shelves of the horror section. not his preference, but he likes the twist. likes the view, too. the profile of her face, her hair, the way her jeans fit snugly over her arse.

smitten. that’s the word, he thinks. charmed, maybe. pretty, sweet four-eyes all dressed up in knitwear. she probably made them herself. seems the type. he wonders, absurdly, if she’d make him something. a sweater, maybe. something that actually fits his shoulders.

then she suddenly moved, pulling out her phone, and he buries his face in the cookbook he’s been pretending to read. thai recipes, apparently. he flips a page, wondering if she likes thai food. he could try making it.

his phone buzzes and for a second, one irrational second, he thinks it’s her. like she’s sent a message telepathically from across the shop. but no. it’s price, blunt as ever, asking where the fuck he is.

he looks up again, and she’s gone. just like that. his stomach drops, and he straightens instinctively, scanning the aisles. he can’t help it, he turns—

“so…you like thai food?”

he looks down and finds her at the next shelf over, smiling shyly. something about it. it slips through his ribs and gets comfortable.