#joinery technique

[alvallah]

Imagine being rich and paying for bland minimalist textiles and cold sterilized homes when you could be paying folk artists handsomely for handcrafted beauty and color —helping preserve honestly quite priceless artistic traditions and supporting the people who keep these legacies alive— instead.

[anielskaaniela]

Kintsugi: The Art of Repairing Broken Japanese Pottery

In this post , you will learn on kintsugi : Japanese broken pottery . Check out my japanese products [here]. Kintsugi, the ancient Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with gold, is a practice deeply rooted in the philosophy of wabi-sabi, which finds beauty in imperfection and impermanence. This unique art form transforms broken pieces of ceramics into beautiful pieces of art, giving them…

[makswoodworking]

Woodworking Joinery Techniques: A Comprehensive Guide for All Skill Levels

Woodworking joinery techniques are an essential part of any woodworker’s skillset, as they help create sturdy and visually appealing connections between wooden parts. In this article, we will delve into some popular woodworking joinery techniques, discuss their applications, and provide step-by-step instructions for mastering them. Whether you’re a seasoned woodworker or just starting, this guide…

[redsrooftopprincess]

Kintsugi

200 Followers Thank You Fic!

Winning prompt: “Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.”

Raphael x GN!Reader

No warnings

"Kintsugi (golden joinery) is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum, a method similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. Lacquerware is a longstanding tradition in Japan, at some point it may have been combined with maki-e as a replacement for other ceramic repair techniques."

— Christy Bartlett, Flickwerk: The Aesthetics of Mended Japanese Ceramics

"Shit!"

The sound of ceramic hitting cement rang through the lair like discordant bells.

"Fuck! No! Damn it!"

You make your way out of the lab where you'd been helping Donnie with one of his latest projects.

You'd excused yourself when you heard his exclamation ricochet against the cement in the open space, and follow the now near constant stream of expletives to the kitchen, where you find the biggest of the Hamato brothers on hands and knees, gathering the shattered pieces of what was once his father's favorite teapot.

Black pottery with white calligraphy and white and pink cherry blossom boughs. It belonged to Yoshi, and is one of the few remaining pieces of his Master's old life.

Raphael hisses and rips his hand from the floor. "Fuck! Damn it!" his voice is thick with barely leashed emotion. Crossing the kitchen quietly, you snatch a paper towel off the roll on the kitchen table, and make your way to him. You crouch down in front of him, grateful that you started the evening in the lab, and are currently wearing thick jeans and boots.

He's maneuvered himself to sitting, and is pulling a triangular piece of the lid from his palm. He stares at the piece for a moment, jaw tight. This means so much more to Splinter than just tea. It isn't usually even kept in the kitchen, but the calligraphy had chipped, and Splinter had taken great care to repair it. The kitchen is the room with the best light, second only to Donnie's lab, and the constant buzzing of electronics gives the old rat a headache.

Raphael bumped the table with his shell, that's all. He swallows hard, clenching his teeth. He's too big even for his own damn home. How the hell is he going to tell his dad?

A sting in his palm brings him back to himself, and he looks up at you ashamed and at a loss. You're pressing the paper towel to his palm, looking down at it, unseeing. He can see the crease in between your eyebrows which usually means the gears are turning. And he's never been more grateful you were so much like Donnie.

You're running through options in your head. It'll have to be repaired and there are a number of ways that would still keep it food safe. Then you think about Master Splinter, and what he will think when he finds out about the mishap.

Hope blossoms in his eyes when he sees your look of concentration soften into a smile and you pull the bloody paper towel away from the now closed wound. You're glad it wasn't too bad, but gripping his sai will be uncomfortable for a few days.

You squeeze his good hand, "We can fix it."

....

You never had a dad, but if you did, you'd want him to be like Splinter. Patient, kind, and always ready with a pricked ear and a warm cup of tea to talk through your bullshit, especially when you don't want to. He has a way of pulling those pesky truths out of people, and probably knows more about you now than anyone else on the planet.

He also has a habit of taking in strays. Yourself included. Of finding the scattered and the broken and bringing them together into this beautiful amalgamation of functional chaos.

Kintsugi, was really the only option.

The traditional method would take too long, the breakage was complex and you didn't have a year to complete the project. But you managed to find a food safe alternative using modern materials.

You take your time setting out the powders and epoxies you'd spent the morning gathering, and pull up a tutorial video on Raph's tablet. It's the middle of the day and Splinter is asleep, which gives the two of you the perfect opportunity to put the teapot back together.

It takes hours, there are so many pieces, and Raphael is meticulous. At one point going back into the kitchen to spend twenty minutes searching for a missing piece no more than 3mm wide, eventually finding it under the fridge.

When you are finished, you both take a step back to look at your work. He's nervous. It's a big change to something that's been the same for as long as he can remember. It looks like it's made of lightning or leaves, veins of flashing gold, as thin as stands of hair, spiderweb through matte black and gloss white, seeming to make the blossoms on the sakura branch glow.

No going back now.

...

Every evening, after waking up, Raphael has coffee with his dad before starting the "day." Most nights, Splinter starts the kettle, so he's surprised to smell coffee before even opening his eyes.

When he makes his way to the kitchen, Raphael is already waiting for him, holding the teapot in his hands. You're at his elbow for support.

"Dad..." He starts, before pausing to take a deep breath as his father crosses the kitchen toward him, "I broke it... I'm sorry. I hit the table and it just fell off. I tried to fix it..." he trails off when Splinter holds out his hands to receive the heirloom.

The old rat's eyes look over his Master's teapot. It was old, possibly older even than Yoshi, and had survived so much. He runs his fingers over the smooth surface, tracing the veins of gold, bright and warm against the cold black, and tears sting his eyes.

A beloved relic broken by fate or circumstance, put back together with time and care by his progeny, to continue it's new life, shining.

His father's wet eyes catch the light and Raph panics, "I know it's not exactly like it was. I'm sorry, I tried to-" he quiets when Splinter holds up a hand.

"My son, it's perfect, and more lovely than ever. Thank you, Raphael," he says, His voice warm with gratitude for this and so much more, "Please join me for tea. Both of you."

You spend the evening learning about the history of the Hamato clan, and listening to stories of life in Japan. He tells you about Tang Shen, his Master, Yoshi, and the love they shared. You can't help glancing at Raphael when he's not looking, and he can't resist doing the same. You miss each other by seconds. His father doesn't.

Once the teapot runs dry, Master Splinter excuses himself for meditation and you and Raph make your way to the living room.

Once the door latches, Raphael's knees almost give out with the rush of relief.

“Christ on a fucking bike, I could kiss you right now.” he laughs, gratefully, before it occurs to him what he said, and then it's a very different kind of laughter, "I, uh... I mean..."

You laugh, you hope casually, as roses bloom in your cheeks. "Hey, no problem," you say, "I'm just glad it worked."

His heart is pounding, as he chuckles uncomfortably, and looks in your eyes. It was a slip up. Just a turn of phrase, but he glances down at your mouth for just a second anyway, and there's a moment that feels heavy with... something.

You'd spent the day working closely beside each other, and the evening drinking tea and hearing stories about a love whose ripples are still moving through time, and as his eyes meet yours again, you can't help but feel the itch of empty hands wanting to pull him closer.

But then he's called away by Leo to his nightly duties, and the moment is over. You're left in the warm comfort of the lair and eventually fall asleep on the couch waiting for the boys to get back.

He finds you there upon his return, and stops for a moment just to look at you. *Really* look at you. Something he wouldn't even attempt if you were awake to ask him why he's acting like a fucking creep.

The whole time his father was talking about his Master's love story, the persistent what if's that tend to follow in your wake were whispering false hopes. He was still trying desperately to ignore them, but some of the gold powder had ended up in your hair, and it sparkles in the colored lights, making you look ethereal. He brushes some of your hair from your cheek, and the dust wisps into the air like starlight.

His guardian fucking angel. Not only did you save his ass, but his father actually seemed more pleased with the result than he was upset that the teapot broke in the first place. Somehow, you have a way of always fixing things and making them so much better. Even him. Especially him.

Somehow, you have a way of always knowing exactly how to put him back together.

.....

A/N:

Currently putting myself back together. Thank you, everyone, for all the love and validation that is helping me so much with that. ❤️

.....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[keepingitneutral]

Kabina, Garigal country, Australia,

KABINA utilises innovative Interlocking joinery techniques making screws, fasteners and nails redundant. This allows to make products that are stronger, long-lasting, easy to assemble and disassemble and relocate back into the circular economy.

Courtesy: Facundo Ochoa

[dorianbracht]

A nice little joinery splurge. These were all for the ETH University in Zürich. They have a materials and techniques library.

[thistledropkick]

El Desperado's 2019 match (technically speaking, pair of matches) against Kasai was a huge turning point in his career. It left a permanent impact on him, not just emotionally but physically - during that match Kasai broke Desperado's jaw with a punch to the face.

The fallout from this unfortunate injury ended up bringing the two of them closer together.

Desperado would go on to incorporate the injury into his own mask, as a gold-joinery series of cracks along the left side of his jaw.

But Desperado also incorporated his relationship with Kasai into his moveset. After his jaw healed and he was able to return to the ring, he added some new moves to his arsenal.

One was a punch to the jaw, named "Loco Mono" in homage to "Crazy Monkey" Kasai.

Kasai would go on to name his own right-fisted punch "Picaro" (rogue in Spanish) in return, an homage to "Rogue Luchador" Desperado.

Desperado also incorporated Kasai's Reverse Tiger Driver into his moveset, building it into a combination that leads to his own finisher, Pinche Loco.

The first technique, with a vertical drop, is a Reverse Tiger Driver, one of Kasai's signature finishing moves. The second, with a horizontal drop and rotation, is Desperado's Pinche Loco.

In combination, the two moves feel seamless, like they were meant to go together. It makes me wonder if Desperado got some inspiration for his own finishing move from Kasai, years before they ever shared a ring.

[bumblebeeappletree]

For thousands of years survival in Norway's countryside, where farms were miles from each other, meant complete self-sufficiency. Farmsteads were like small villages with several families living together and building their homes from logs and turf.

At Oslo's Norwegian Folk Museum, entire farmsteads have been transplanted here log-by-log by master carpenters who use traditional joinery techniques and knowledge of birch-bark roofs - a combination of birch bark and sod used since at least 300AD. These mini-villages also include elevated storehouses for food and textiles, as well as barns and saunas (not just for recreation, but also for laundry).

This open air museum has 160 buildings (mostly originals with a few reproductions), including one of the world's remaining stave churches dating back to 1200. The centuries-old wood is preserved by a traditional tarring method applied every 4 years.

There are also several city streets of "Old Town" Oslo with townhouses dating back to about 1700 and 19th and 20th Century interiors, including a mock-up of the apartment from Henrik Ibsen's "A Doll's House".

Open Air Museum https://norskfolkemuse...

On *faircompanies https://faircompanies....

[captainjonnitkessler]

I found the woodworking version of the Great British Bake-off, a show called Good With Wood, and now I too can know what it's like to be one of those people yelling at the screen about proper moisture ratios or whatever it is people who know about baking go on about while watching that show. Except I'm yelling about proper joinery techniques.

[giantcypress]

Into the gap

One of the things that resulted from the COVID pandemic was that I wound up teaching the OCIA course for our church (long story). The students got their sacraments at the Easter Vigil Mass, and I decided to make crucifixes for them as a gift. This should be a pretty straightforward project — mill out pieces of wood for the upright and crosspiece portions of the cross, cut a lap joint, glue, finish, and attach the corpus and INRI plaque.

But it is a truism in woodworking that the smaller projects are the hardest to do, because you see every detail. And for this crucifix, there was a detail that bugged me.

On the lower part of the bridle joint to the left, there's a bit of a gap. That's where I went a little off my line. It happens. Structurally, this joint would be fine, but visually this stuck out to me like a sore thumb. The good thing is that this is pretty easy to mitigate.

The way I fix small gaps in joinery like this is to use plane shavings to fill in the void. The first thing is to figure out the best orientation for that shaving. You want the shaving to go with the grain of one of the two parts of the joint. In this case, it would be along the grain of the crosspiece.

Then make some shavings from another piece of wood that's the same species as the piece. (It does occur to me that if you use a contrasting piece of wood for this, you've moved from fixing a gap in a joint to making inlay.)

Japanese planes are well known for their ability to make gossamer-thin shavings less than 0.001" thick. That's not what we want here.

I test fit the shaving until I find the section that fits well, and then trim down the shaving with a pair of scissors.

Then glue up and clamp the joint. I'm a big fan of liquid hide glue overall, but it's especially good in this situation because it makes the shavings slippery enough so that everything fits together. Don't worry that the joint will look like one of Phyllis Diller's outfits. We'll fix that later.

After the glue dries, the joint will look like a mess. Again, don't worry.

Now I use a chisel to get rid of most of the shavings hanging off the joint as well as the dried glue squeeze out, and a plane to bring everything flush. The joint looks much better now.

As it turned out, I was also making a small divider for a container that sits in one of our kitchen drawers, and left a little gap in that joint as well. I used the same technique to fix that, even though it will sit in a drawer, and will never see the light of day, because that's what woodworking has done to me.

For the crucifix, I used shellac and wax for the finish, and attached the corpus and INRI plaque. It turned out pretty nice.

And that's when I noticed that Jesus's head would have covered up that gap anyway. I guess Jesus really does save.

[nobodywritingao3]

Shameful Company [ch 3] Lady Lie [3/4]

masterpost | previous

The village Tommy grew up in was located in a beast's territory, a man eating serpent's. Isolated from the world, all he's ever known is loneliness. When he's forced outside the safety of the town walls he meets a stranger who claims to live beyond the village. They become fast friends despite the fact that the man is clearly hiding something - but can you really blame Tommy? He's never had a friend before.

CW for entire fic: - Wilbur eats people lol - swearing

title taken from 'Shameful Company' by Rainbow Kitten Surprise

chapter title taken from 'Lady Lie' by Rainbow Kitten Surprise inspired by the talented @beckyu and her story 'My Monster to Slay' (tumblr) (AO3)

word count: 4.3k 🐍 read it on AO3

CW for section: depiction of depressive episode including suicide attempt, self harm, disordered eating, and anger issues

Kintsugi (金継ぎ, "golden joinery"), also known as kintsukuroi (金繕い, "golden repair"), is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum; the method is similar to the maki-e technique. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise. Kintsugi

How have things been since last you messaged me? I'm reminding you to keep the antidote close, perhaps on your body. I can't imagine he'll be happy trapped in human form and I recommend you keep your guard up.

"FUCK. YOU!" Wilbur screamed, smashing Phil's equipment on the ground. There was a noise like shattering glass as it landed,.

Phil winced, wondering what exactly got ruined. He toyed anxiously with his necklace. "I'm sorry," he said soothingly. "But you need to - "

"What I need is to not be stuck in this - this body!" He crumpled into a ball on the floor, breathing heavily and shaking like a leaf.

"I'm sorry," Phil repeated. "I'm so, so sorry." He made to approach him but Wilbur fell back with a growl at his first movements, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

He's had a hard time adjusting. I'm worried he won't move past this. I'm trying to be patient and I'm doing everything I can in the meantime, but sometimes he just -

"Wil, sweetheart, you need to eat something."

"No." His voice was bitter and hot.

"You haven't eaten anything in days - would you please try the stew? It would put something into your belly without you having to - "

"No." He was more insistent that time, but as well, his voice cracked and wavered. He looked away from Phil and harshly blinked tears from his eyes.

Phil nudged a half bowl of mushroom soup towards him. "There are some potatoes and the like in there, but they're softened from being cooked. I know chewing is new to you, but it's a skill you can practice and - "

"I don't want to learn how to chew," he gritted out. "I'd rather starve."

"Wilbur - you will if you don't eat, please, just try - "

I'm sorry, Phil, that's terrible.

"Oh fuck - honey, what did you do?" Phil dropped his bag and hurried to Wilbur. Kneeling down, he gently took the boy's hands in his own and delicately held them palm up to expose the wrists.

Wilbur stared blankly at the wall. He was completely unresponsive and looked terribly pale.

Phil tried to focus on his labored breathing. Dead children don't breathe. And Wilbur was breathing very hard indeed.

"We're gonna get you cleaned up, okay? It could be a lot worse than it is, but you're still - you're losing a lot of blood."

He pulled him up and Wilbur went without resistance.

The motion seemed to pull him from the fog, from the dark place he was trapped in, but only by a little. He focused hazily on Phil's face before his eyes slid away. He leaned into Phil's touch.

Phil complied, curling protective arms around him and entirely supporting his weight. His heart pounded painfully in his chest as he felt warm, sticky blood beginning to soak into his clothes. "You're okay, you're okay... you're gonna be okay," he mumbled to him. "Everything's gonna be okay."

I'm worried about him. I don't think he's gonna get better.

It took Wilbur three days to wake up.

Every few hours, Phil would press his fingers against the boy's neck just to make sure his pulse was still going.

He lost sleep.

Whenever his body did finally succumb to the exhaustion, he was plagued by the same nightmare. In it, there was a cold body that wouldn't breathe but wouldn't stop bleeding, no matter what he did. He could apply any amount of bandages or tourniquets or even stitches, but the blood would soak through and the wounds would split open. He didn't know why he was even trying to stem the blood flow as the child was long dead, but he couldn't stop himself. Phil just wanted him to be okay.

The cave overflowed, a testament to his failure. The blood was viscous, solid, and completely nontransparent. As it engulfed the floor and the beds and the furniture, he became overcome with the paralyzing fear that everything it swallowed was gone forever, and he could dive deep and swim hard without ever reaching the bottom. The only thing left unblemished by the void was the body itself, frail and small and helpless and dead. Phil couldn't stop trying to save him, futile as it was. The red seeped into his eyes. He was rendered blind, and the last thing he took in before it filled his delicate lungs and killed him dead was the overpowering smell of iron and the distinct, hollow feeling of shame.

He would wake up crying and soaked in cooling sweat, and he'd fall over himself to reach Wilbur's bed. The only thing that could calm him down after those dreams was placing his ear over the boy's heart and listening to the steady beat.

Phil didn't leave the cave. He spent his days watching Wilbur. In preparation for his waking, he'd cook, boiling potatoes and grain and meat until they lost form from the gentlest touch, and impatiently, he waited. He cleaned the wounds and fought the infection with a combination of antiseptic and magic. He redressed the bandages constantly (thanking his stars that the blood never seeped through), and reapplied balm twice a day.

Under his gentle care and watchful eye, Wilbur's body healed. His body healed, but Phil never stopped worrying for his mind.

Shouldn't think like that. He had a bad moment, but he's already proven he's a strong kid. He must have been, to survive what he has. Have faith in him. He needs to be loved before he can be lovable.

"Why did you save me?"

Phil looked up sharply. It was the first thing he'd said in a week. The boy's voice was rough from disuse, and he visibly swallowed. Phil cautiously approached him, handing him his second serving of soup.

"I'm not sure how you mean that question."

He wouldn't look him in the eyes. "Just - why?"

Phil was quiet for a few seconds. "Do you think I shouldn't have?"

The boy looked uncomfortable and didn't say anything.

"I won't be angry if you say yes," Phil said gently. "I'm asking because you did that to yourself. And I have to wonder if you did it because you feel like you deserve to - "

"Does it matter why I did it?" He snapped, his fingers curling into a fist.

Yes. More than anything. "We don't have to think about that right now."

Wilbur softened. He was quiet several seconds. "So why did you save me?"

Because you were hurt. Because you're a kid. Because I don't believe anyone deserves to die. Because I believe you deserve to live. Because I love -

"Do I need a reason?" He sat on the edge of Wilbur's bed. Absentmindedly, his hand reached for the boy's hair and started to ruffle. He froze, realizing what he was doing, and made uncomfortable eye contact with Wilbur.

His cheeks were a bright red... but he wasn't withdrawing from the touch.

Phil slowly restarted his movements, scratching the boy's scalp. "You're adorable," he chanced.

Wilbur sputtered and slapped his hand away, earning a laugh from Phil. He tried to frown at him, but it didn't take long before he was laughing just as hard.

I hope you're right Tech, I really want this to work out for him. I admit, sometimes it feels like he's getting better, but other times -

Wilbur hadn't left his bed in two days.

"Take my hand, okay? I'll bring you up, and then you and I are gonna take a short walk outside. Get you some sunshine? Sounds nice, right mate?"

He stared at Phil's hand with weak contempt. "Can't you just leave me alone?" There was no real bite behind his words. "If you want to take a walk, just go by yourself."

Phil shook his head firmly. "Come with me." He kept his hand extended. "Fifteen minutes. I want to talk to you."

"About what?" Wilbur asked mistrustfully.

"About nothing. I don't have anything I want to talk to you about, I just want to talk to you."

"Well, we're talking right now."

Phil sighed and dropped his hand, his heart sinking to his feet. "Please come with me."

Wilbur glared at him.

~

"I made your favorite," Phil said hopefully, motioning towards the set dining table.

His face crumpled. "No thanks."

"When was the last time you ate?"

He didn't answer.

"Wil?"

~

"Put it down!" Phil yelled.

Wilbur scrambled backwards, a bloody bread knife still clutched desperately in his right fist. For someone who had only started walking regularly a year ago, he was surprisingly agile when pumped full of panic and adrenaline.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" He screamed back. Tears were streaming down his face and his left arm was bleeding freely.

"Please," Phil said, with as much patience and love as he could muster - which at the moment wasn't a lot - "just hand me the knife, okay?"

"Fuck no! And fuck you!"

"You can swear at me later," he begged, frustration seeping into his voice, "please just give me the fucking knife!"

Wilbur dodged his hands and sprinted towards the entrance of the cave. "Eat my fucking ass, Phil!"

Sometimes getting better looks like getting worse.

"I'm not - I can't do this!" Wilbur wailed, hugging his knees. "It's too hard, Phil, I'm never gonna get it."

Phil sat down next to him and pulled him into a tight hug, letting Wilbur empty himself of his emotions. It must have been an hour of heartbroken crying before Wilbur quieted down into sniffles and sharp breathing.

Phil sighed and traced patterns into his back. "I'm sorry. I know I say it all the time, but I'm so, so sorry."

He waited for Wilbur to snap at him, start yelling about how he should be sorry, how 'sorry' doesn't fix anything, how he hates him and no amount of 'sorry' can fix it, but he stays quiet.

Tentatively, Phil continues, "You've been working so hard. Learning to walk on two feet, and chew, and adjust to being small - it's a lot. You should have had someone to teach you these things when you were younger. I'm so sorry, Wilbur. It's so much, isn't it? It's not easy for you."

Wilbur's breathing hitched and Phil felt guilt well up inside of him.

"I - shit, sorry mate, I didn't mean to make you cry - "

Wilbur pressed himself into Phil's chest, leaning in hard and practically forcing Phil to keep his arms around him.

"Oh..." he said softly, blinking down at him.

"Are you gonna leave me?" He blurted out, voice muffled in Phil's chest.

Phil's heart ached. "No. Never. Never ever."

Wilbur clung on tight and didn't say anything else.

~

Wilbur was screaming again. Phil watched helplessly from his bed, where he'd woken up twenty minutes earlier to smashing and yelling. He fiddled with his necklace, worriedly taking in the scene before him.

Every book on nagas had its pages ripped out and crumpled, strewn across the ground like confetti, and a large portion of Phil's clothing had been torn into and cut up. Food was spilled across the floor. Everything was in disarray.

Wilbur was currently tossing things into the fireplace. The fire inside was steadily dying. He didn't seem to give much regard as to if what he was burning was flammable or not, but he still tossed anything he could reach into the pile.

Phil stood up, his heart aching, and made his way to the kitchen area. He gingerly stepped over broken shards of glass and spilled rations while Wilbur stared at him, breathing hard and looking ready to brawl.

Phil just gave him a sad look.

"Will you fucking quit that?!" Wilbur snapped, sending a pile of papers onto the ground.

He winced as they went down, and Wilbur bared his teeth in a mock smile.

Phil just sighed and pulled open one of the cabinets, happy to find that the tea, kettle, and cups were still perfectly preserved. He started to set some water boiling on the stove.

Apparently dissatisfied with his reaction, Wilbur screamed again before picking up a lantern and smashing it down as hard as he could. Shards flew and spread across the ground.

Phil ignored it.

Wilbur started to march towards him, but stumbled and gasped in pain as a long shard of glass lodged itself into his foot. He made a throaty, angry noise and stomped his foot down hard, pushing the debris deeper into his skin before continuing to limp towards Phil. He readied a hand to smack the boiling kettle off the stove, and it was here that Phil finally stepped in.

He grabbed Wilbur around the wrists and tugged him away, firm but gentle. Wilbur writhed in his grip but he paid no mind, sweeping him into bridal style and carrying him to his bed as he clawed and thrashed. Phil deposited him onto the mattress and turned away, back to the tea. He continued preparing it in silence.

Wilbur stood up and hobbled to the kitchen. Phil made to stop him again, thinking he was still trying to knock the tea over, but instead he reached for the cabinet containing their silverware and dishes. He snapped open the little door and started grabbing for the contents.

Staring him in the eyes, Wilbur took a dish at a time and smashed them against the wall. He got through five while coldly glaring at Phil before he started to pick up the pace, gradually paying less and less attention to his reactions - or more accurately, his lack thereof - as he threw everything he could at the walls, the ceiling, the floor. Hot tears streamed down his face. Then he ran out of dishes. He kicked a half broken bowl into the wall and stepped into the shards. By now, there were bloody footsteps all over the floor, tracing out his meltdown, and he seemed all too happy to add more paint to the canvas. He fell to his knees and the glass sank into his flesh there as well. He pressed his palms into the floor and he raised his hands, Phil caught sight of the torn up, encrusted skin.

Wilbur started to whimper, and then he started to sob.

Phil poured two cups of hot tea and left them on the table to cool. He made his way to Wilbur, assuming he'd gotten it out of his system.

He looked up at Phil, his cheeks splotchy and red and his eyes completely bloodshot, and then he reached for the nearest sizable glass shard. Seeing Phil quicken his pace, he quickened too, raising it rapidly towards his face - towards his eye. Just as he made to plunge it into his skull, Phil grabbed him around the arm and held him back. He pulled the glass from his grip, ignoring the cutting sting on its edge and let it shatter on the floor before Wilbur could further self mutilate. He tried to grab him around the armpits, get him to his feet, but Wilbur kicked him hard and shoved him away.

"GO AWAY!" Wilbur screamed. "JUST FUCKING GO!"

Phil tripped as he backed away, his breath catching in his lungs.

Wilbur inhaled sharply. "Fuck - just fuck off..." His voice came out considerably weaker.

It was silent, save for his soft crying.

After a painfully long half minute, he managed to choke out a single, heartbroken, "Why?"

"Why... why what?"

A sob fought its way from his mouth in spite of his best attempts to choke it down, and a fresh cascade of tears went down his face. "Just - why?" A dam broke. "I don't -  I don't get it," he cried, barely able to speak for the sobs wracking his body. "I don't understand. Why? Why? I don't - I just... I just don't fucking get it."

He raised his a hand to wipe away his tears, and the invisible barrier keeping Phil anchored to the spot dissolved. He shot forward and stopped Wilbur's hands, insistent on wiping away his tears himself.

"Glass hands," he murmured. "Let me, okay? Just let me..."

Wilbur hung his head and continued his broken wailing, but he didn't fight as Phil carefully wiped the tears and snot from his face.

Phil sifted through the debris on the ground until he unearthed one of his day packs. He opened it and reached into a padded inner pocket, pulling out a small vial. He returned to the table and pulled one of the teacups forward, emptying the potion into the warm drink.

"Healing pot," he gentle explained. "Let's get you fixed up."

He returned to Wilbur's side and helped him to his feet. Slowly guiding him to the table. An absurd thought hit him then, how similar this action was to when he'd first guided Wilbur to the cave after trapping him in human form. He winced with each limped step Wilbur took, knowing the shards in his feet would only wedge itself deeper into his body. He sat him down at the table.

Wilbur reached out a bloody, glass encrusted hand for his drink and Phil shooed him off, raising the cup to the boy's lips instead. "There's enough in this cup to heal all the damage you took, so you need to drink all of it. But you can pace yourself."

He took a few sips before miserably pulling away. Phil obliged, setting the cup down and pulling his own towards himself. He watched idly as the glass in Wilbur's hands slowly started to push itself out.

"There you go," he murmured warmly. "Potion's doing its job just fine."

By now, Wilbur's crying had begun to taper off.

Phil raised the cup to the boy's mouth again, and he accepted the drink. The last of the glass pushed itself free from his hands, and Phil gently set it into his grip.

They sat in silence. The sun was starting to rise. Their home was a broken mess.

Wilbur stared shamefully into his cup. "I just don't get it," he repeated, voice broken and raspy.

Phil nodded. "Which part?"

"The whole thing."

They continued sipping their tea.

Phil returned to the cabinet, grabbing a jar of honey. He stirred a few dollops into Wilbur's cup and refilled it with another portion of tea. "It'll soothe your throat."

They drank until the sun sat low in the sky.

"I made a mess," he said, breaking the silence.

Phil hummed. "It's okay."

Wilbur clenched his jaw. "How can you say that?"

"Easily."

They lapsed back into silence.

Wilbur chugged the rest of his tea, and then threw the cup against the wall. He turned to Phil with a curious, guarded expression.

Phil regarded him inquisitively. Wilbur's action had lacked anger or passion. If anything, it seemed half-hearted.

He continued sipping his tea. "Do you want another cup?" He clarified in afterthought, "Specifically to drink from."

Wilbur stared at him expressionlessly. "What. The fuck?"

"I'm not going to punish you, Wil," Phil stated with a slight note of exasperation.

He frowned at him. "I don't want you to," he said coldly, clearly offended by the implication.

Phil finished his own cup. "Okay."

"I don't!" he insisted.

"I said okay."

Wilbur was quiet. Then he inhaled sharply and spat out, "Aren't you mad at me?!"

"... I feel like that's irrelevant."

Wilbur glared at him, his hands starting to ball into fists.

Phil sighed, relenting. "Sometimes I am. Sometimes I can be very frustrated with your behavior."

Something in his face dropped and his body went limp, a devastated look like disappointment flashing across his face before he could properly cover it up with a snarl. "Good," he hissed.

"I get angry at you because I care about you, mate. If your goal is self destruction, I wouldn't count this as a victory."

"That doesn't make any sense - none of this makes any sense!" Wilbur exploded.

"I know it doesn't."

"Well, do you care to explain?"

Phil scrubbed at his face. "I would if I thought it would make you feel better." Before Wilbur could say something to add to his spiral, he continued plainly, "I'm going to throw this cup at the wall."

This caught him off guard. "Excuse me?"

Phil threw his teacup at the wall. It exploded. Wilbur stared at him with a slack jawed expression.

"I want to show you something."

He began to murmur under his breath while making quick motions with his hands. Light and sparks began to dance and fill the air behind his fingers' movements. Wilbur's eyes widened. The cup fragments lifted and floated airily towards the table from where they'd collected on the ground. They arranged themselves neatly in a circle. With a deliberate flick of his fingers, the shards fit themselves together like a jigsaw puzzles, and with a softly hummed three note tune, clean gold liquid started to materialize in the air and apply itself to the cracks. Wilbur watched in awe as the delicate shards slowly came together, even the smallest pieces finding their way to where they used to be. The cup, repaired with beautiful gold binding over its cracks, gently set itself onto the table before the pair.

"It's a kintsugi spell. And I want to teach you how to perform it. I also want to teach you how to brew healing potions."

Wilbur swallowed, a conflicted look crossing his face. "Is this why you aren't punishing me?" Because the damage I did wasn't permanent, wasn't big enough. Because I haven't truly pushed you to the edge?

Phil gave him a look. "I'm not punishing you because there's nothing in this world that you could do to me - or to anyone else - that would make me think you deserve to be punished."

A defiant look crossed his face and he spat out harshly, "That is bullshit. You're a fucking liar - or you're delusional. I don't know what's wrong with you, but that isn't how this works. I just want to know - " he cut himself off, glowering at the table.

"It is how this works," Phil gently countered. "It is how this is working."

Wilbur glared at him. "I've killed a lot of people, Phil."

"I know you have."

"And the majority of them didn't deserve it. At all. They were innocents." His voice broke at the end and he furiously blinked back tears. That indignant, heated look never left his face.

"I know that too."

"I ate most of them alive."

Phil didn't respond, only looking at him sympathetically.

"I heard them screaming and dying inside of me, and I never once felt bad about it." Liar.

"I know, Wil - "

"No. No, I don't think you do."

Phil sighed. "Sweetheart, I saw you eat Jared."

Wilbur's mouth fell open in shock, and a mortified look crossed his face.

"Don't be embarrassed that I know. The first time we met, you kept trying to kill me too. You kept trying to eat me."

He averted his gaze, his cheeks heating up and fresh tears collecting in his eyes.

Phil started to perform the kintsugi spell again. "The point is that I know. I know very well. And I still don't think you deserve to be punished."

He worked silently for another minute, pretending for Wilbur's sake that he didn't notice the streams of tears dripping down his face. He finished repairing the teacup Wilbur had thrown, and when he was done, he poured another portion of tea - the last portion left in the kettle - and gently dropped a spoonful of honey in. He stirred it, the sweet noise of the spoon moving in circles absolutely musical.

"I know it seems bad. I know it feels like this is a lost cause, that the damage is too much." He pushed the cup into Wilbur's hands. "But you would be surprised at the things you can fix."

Wilbur accepted the cup. His fingers traced over the gold sealed the cracks. Something in him seemed to die. "You can feel where it broke," he said desperately. His voice cracked into a whimper. "You can feel - they're still there."

"Of course they are," Phil said soothingly, running a finger across one of the gold veins on his own cup. "But the cups still hold tea just fine, don't they? You can tell our cups were broken, but they're still fully functional. And just as beautiful as they were before, even if they look different."

He touched the cup irreverently. "This tea set was a gift from my son, actually. Lots of love in these cups. Lots of history in them too."

Wilbur shrank back, fresh shame taking over his features. "I'm sorry," slipped past his lips. Phil looked at him curiously. It was the first time he'd ever heard him say that.

"You're misunderstanding me. I love these cups, mate. I'm still going to love them even if they get a little broken or chipped. I'm not going to throw them away just because of a little damage. Especially if the damage can be fixed."

He reached forward and gently pushed a few strands of hair from Wilbur's eyes. He adoringly thumbed the boy's temple. "I have every reason to keep these cups. I love these cups. Very, very much." He stared at him for a few seconds, a tender, sweet quality in his eyes. He let go of Wilbur's face and motioned for him to give him his hand.

"Will you learn the spell? I can't always be around to put things back together, and it would make me feel better if I knew someone taught you how to take care of the things you care about."

Still sniffling, Wilbur nodded. "Okay." And then he blurted out, "Thank you."

Phil smiled. "Of course. Anytime. I'm always happy to help you navigate these things, okay?"

Wilbur gave him a small smile in return, and for the first time since he'd brought him home, Phil felt like their story might have a happy ending.

~ ~ ~

🏷️: @i-am-beckyu @da3dm @flowers-of-plenty @gracideaviolet

ah haheuaheuhaeuahe. well i hope you enjoyed this

[handcraftedloghomes]

It's #TimberTuesday! Let's take a look at one of our most popular building styles for log homes - diamond notched staggered log flares. Diamond notched staggered log flares are a distinctive and intricate feature used in log home construction. This technique involves creating staggered ends on the logs, which are then notched in a diamond pattern. The diamond notch, also known as a saddle notch, is designed to maximize compression at the corners, ensuring a tight and secure fit over time. This method is particularly effective when working with logs of varying diameters, as it allows for a seamless and stable connection. The staggered log flares add a unique aesthetic appeal to the log home, giving it a rustic yet refined look. The flared ends create a sense of depth and texture, enhancing the natural beauty of the wood. This joinery technique not only contributes to the structural integrity of the home but also showcases the craftsmanship and attention to detail that goes into building a high-quality log home.

[virtualbearcycle]

Mastering Woodworking with the Router Table 4x8: Elevate Your Craft with Precision and Versatility 

In the world of woodworking, achieving professional-grade results relies heavily on having the right tools at your disposal. Among these tools, the router table 4x8 stands out as an essential piece of equipment for both novice and experienced woodworkers. This article explores the features, benefits, and applications of a router table while also comparing it to the increasingly popular desktop CNC machine. 

What is a Router Table 4x8? 

A router table 4x8 is a large woodworking device designed to support a router, enabling it to make precise cuts and shapes in various materials. The "4x8" designation refers to the dimensions of the tabletop, providing ample space for handling large workpieces. This expansive surface allows for increased stability and control, essential for executing detailed woodworking tasks. 

Benefits of Using a Router Table 4x8 

Enhanced Stability and Control: The larger size of a router table provides a stable working environment, which helps minimize vibrations and errors during the routing process. This stability is particularly beneficial when working with intricate designs or larger boards. 

Versatile Applications: Router tables are incredibly versatile and can perform numerous tasks, such as shaping edges, creating grooves, and making joinery cuts. With adjustable speeds and heights, you can tailor your routing operations to suit various woodworking projects. 

Improved Safety: Operating a router table significantly reduces the risk of injury compared to using a handheld router. The secure positioning of the workpiece minimizes kickback and enhances user safety, allowing for a more focused and productive work environment. 

Compatibility with Different Router Bits: A router table 4x8 is designed to accommodate a wide range of router bits. This flexibility enables woodworkers to explore diverse techniques and styles, facilitating the creation of unique designs and finishes. 

Comparing Router Tables and Desktop CNC Machines 

Both the router table 4x8 and desktop CNC machines have their merits, and understanding their differences can help you choose the right tool for your needs. 

Precision and Automation 

Desktop CNC machines excel in precision and automation, making them ideal for detailed and repetitive tasks. These machines use computer-controlled settings to execute intricate designs with high accuracy, which can be especially beneficial for commercial woodworking applications. However, they often require significant upfront investment and time to master the software. 

Hands-On Flexibility 

In contrast, a router table 4x8 offers a more hands-on approach, allowing for immediate adjustments and manual control over the routing process. This hands-on experience fosters creativity, enabling woodworkers to experiment with different techniques and designs. The tactile nature of routing can enhance the enjoyment of woodworking and lead to innovative results. 

Selecting the Right Router Table 4x8 

When choosing a router table, keep these considerations in mind: 

Build Quality: Select a router table with a sturdy construction that can handle regular use. A solid base will contribute to the table's durability and stability during operations. 

Ease of Use: Look for features like adjustable heights, clear measurements, and intuitive controls that simplify your workflow. A user-friendly design is crucial for maximizing efficiency and effectiveness in your woodworking projects. 

Included Accessories: Many router tables come with valuable accessories such as fences, dust collection ports, and miter gauges. These tools can enhance your routing capabilities and improve the accuracy of your cuts. 

Conclusion 

A router table 4x8 is an invaluable addition to any woodworking shop, providing a perfect blend of stability, versatility, and safety. While desktop CNC machine offer advanced precision and automation, the hands-on experience of using a router table can inspire creativity and innovation in your projects. By understanding the benefits and features of a router table, you can elevate your woodworking skills and bring your creative visions to life. Embrace the possibilities that a router table 4x8 offers, and take your woodworking craft to new heights. 

[outofangband]

Building Materials and Methods in Beleriand Part One

for @caladir I’m so sorry for the delay

part one of a series on architecture in Beleriand! Part one will explore various construction methods and later parts will explore more about architectural styles!

World Building Masterlist (contains a lot of headcanons on buildings and architecture too!)

The elves and humans of Beleriand employ a variety of methods to construct and design both temporary and permanent homes. These are dependent based on location, culture and lifestyle, environment/climate and available materials.

I didn’t go through each group or culture so please feel free to send one and I’ll tell my ideas of their building methods!

-The Wattle and daub method  (which a lattice is woven of wooden strips is “daubed” with clay, mud, sand or straw to create walls and other parts of buildings) was commonly employed by the Noldor in Eastern Beleriand (Himlad, Estolad and parts of Thargelion mostly) as well as by the Sindar in Nevrast during their construction of more permanent homes. 

-Timber framing or post and beam construction is another common method for both elves and humans. This method can involve multiple forms of frame constructed from joined timber structures. Joinery or the practice of using wood or other materials to join to produce more complex structures is itself an art form. Timber framing can be used to create lattice walled houses with strong supports. This is primarily used in Dor-lómin and by the Sindar of Mithrim

-Post and lintel stone structures are used throughout the March of Maedhros  with the exception of the watchtowers. These are ancient masonry techniques that use stone as beams and/or frames designed to hold up a roof. 

-Cob or adobe, used historically from Iran to Wales, is utilized throughout Beleriand including by the Haladin though mainly outside Brethil forest. Avarin groups East and West of the Ered Luin also use it. Cob is a material made from subsoil, water, straw or other fibrous and in some places, lime. It can be used to construct walls for shelters. 

-Mudbricks are also made from subsoil or loam, clay, water and sand with rice or straw used to bind. These are primarily used East of the Ered Luin as well but communities on the Western side of Beleriand including on Barad Nimras and the Isle of Balar also use these. Barad Nimras might have been partially constructed with these. 

-Earth shelters are used by humans, elves, and dwarves. Earth shelters primarily use packed earth which acts as a thermal mass, maintaining temperatures. They can be constructed from the earth of hills or else created entirely underground Earthen shelters can include rammed earthen shelters where packed soil, clay or lime are used to create above ground shelters

The elves of the region of Nargothrond who live outside the caves in the hills employ this method most often. There were small outpockets of the Bëorians who lived in the Southern parts of Dorthonion closer to the Ered Gorgoroth who built earthen shelters in the hills and mountains. Naturally this method is also commonly used in warmer climates as well such as places East of the Ered Luin

[gvawood]

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Solid wood furniture stands the test of time, offering unmatched durability and a timeless aesthetic that enhances any home decor. Unlike veneer or particle board furniture, solid wood pieces are built to last, resisting wear and tear while maintaining their structural integrity.

Our furniture is crafted using traditional mortise and tenon joinery, a technique that has been perfected over centuries. This method not only ensures strength and stability but also showcases the beauty of fine woodworking. Each piece is a testament to the skill and dedication of our craftsmen, who take pride in creating furniture that is both functional and beautiful.

Explore our collection of solid wood furniture, designed to bring elegance, comfort, and sustainability to your living space. Whether you're looking for a new dining table, bed, or storage solution, our pieces are crafted to meet your needs with style and durability.