#marble filament

[skin-quilt]

3D PRINTED DEATH WHISTLE. SOUNDS KICK ASS

[onewomancitadel]

Not to sound like that but why do so many modern television productions seem populated by smoothskinned androids in little plastic sets. It must partly be a product of the flat lighting for 4K HD television, right? It's harder to do dynamic lighting for that especially if you don't know how a scene is going to look pre-CGI. Btw where are their sebacious filaments

[acommonanomaly]

Curufin for @feanorianweek.

Inspired by a scene from my fic, What Fades Away.

Excerpt:

Maitimo shook his head, smiling softly as he approached Tyelkormo’s room. He himself was dressed and ready to depart, though he knew it would be some time before his younger brothers were wrangled into their best robes and made presentable.

Maitimo paused with his hand on the door handle, glancing up briefly at the colorful spider hovering above him on the carefully wrought filaments of its web. He was not overly fond of spiders himself, so he understood Makalaurë’s aversion, though he had to admit that it was a magnificent specimen.

Atar had described to Tyelkormo all he knew of the species, remarking on the artistry with which it wove its web, his voice carrying some of the same admiration he expressed when describing the creations of some of the Noldor’s most renowned craftsmen. His appreciation had infected Tyelkormo, who had loudly let it be known that he would not have anyone disturb his guest.

Maitimo pushed the door open and entered the room, and he was immediately struck by the difference in the quality of the air here.

Tyelkormo’s windows were always open, and smells both earthy and airy drifted in along with the singing of birds and the trilling of the insects outside.

His room was what Amil affectionately called an ‘organized mess.’ Tyelkormo seemed determined to bring the outdoors in, having scattered about neatly presented collections of minerals, gemstones, and other natural things that caught his fancy. Charts of pressed flowers and leaves adorned the walls, and scattered around a plant that had long since began to overflow its pot were life-like marble sculptures of forest creatures that Amil had made for him.

Maitimo ducked beneath a wooden bird that hung from the ceiling, its wings slowly flapping so that it bobbed up and down, and he moved deeper into the room. He stopped when a live bird let out a shrill twitter from the window sill and flapped its glossy black wings.

“Good morning,” Maitimo said politely to the bird. Let his brother not accuse him of being rude to his guests.

The bird cocked its head to the side as it watched him, a beady pale yellow eye unblinking.

“Nelyo?” Tyelkormo called out.

Maitimo walked to the bed and pulled back the gauzy netting that surrounded it. The little bells sewn into fabric chimed delicately, and Curufinwë sat back on his heels, his grey eyes going wide as though he had been caught misbehaving. 

In each hand he clutched the carved wooden figure of an animal, and there were several more scattered around him on the bed. Though he had reached the age where he proudly proclaimed to anyone who would listen that he was no longer a baby, he did not mind at all when Tyelkormo coddled him and made him toys. Tyelkormo sat cross-legged next to him, whittling away at a chunk of wood that was beginning to take on the likeness of a bear. Wood shavings littered his lap and the bed, and Maitimo shook his head before tying back the netting and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Amil won’t like you doing that on the bed.”

“Then don’t tell her,” Tyelkormo said curtly, though his gaze darted to the open door.

“Amil wants Curvo to have a bath, and you should be getting ready, too.”

“Turko doesn’t want to go to the celebration. Why must he go?” Curufinwë asked, giving Maitimo a guileless look that might very well have worked on Amil, or even Atar.

Maitimo turned to Tyelkormo. “Tyelkormo, what have you been telling him?”

“I was just talking.” Tyelkormo kept his eyes lowered, continuing to whittle at the chunk of wood. “And anyway, I don’t see why I should have to go.”

“Because we’re all going.”

“It’s a minor celebration. No one will miss me.”

Maitimo sighed. Tyelkormo had been invited to the house of Oromë and was eager to join the Vala for a hunt. Though the invitation did not stipulate that he should arrive by any certain time, his excitement over the prospect of spending time with the great hunter made him impatient. The celebration they were to attend seemed to be even more of a chore to him than it normally would be.

When Tyelkormo had expressed his desire to be left behind, though, their father had said that if the rest of them had to suffer through such a tedious gathering then so would Tyelkormo.

[hewkii]

Acht (Dedf1sh) Cosplay Rundown

feel free to copy or take inspiration :]

assembly instructions and print settings/materials for 3d printed parts are on thingiverse (headphones) (other parts)

models designed by me are in brackets in the materials list

Hat/Tentacles

black trucker hat with blank white front panel

[dedstencil.stl]

fabric paint

shiny indigo fabric

less shiny white fabric

glow-in-the-dark pigment powder

polyfill

metal marbles (to weight the ends so they hang properly)

two of [octosucc.obj] in different sizes

acrylic paint

conveniently enough i've had this hat hanging on my door for years. i got it with N from pokemon in mind but i never actually did that cosplay ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

here are the sketches i based my patterns on (1 square=1 cm). don't forget to add seam tolerances

Headphones

full details on thingiverse (mudmouth not included)

Arms

mesh bolero with built-in gloves

rit dye

fabric paint

10 of [finger_claw_vase.stl] in varying sizes

i wear claws under the gloves, but sometimes i'll wind up taking them off after a while since they can get uncomfortable and they make it hard to use my phone :/

Bracelet

[acht_bangle_vase.stl]

acrylic paint

glow-in-the-dark pigment powder

glossy clear coat

a cut up mello yello bottle

packing tape

eva foam

Misc. Doodads

red mirror shades

color chips

necklace chain

[acht_tag_jelleton.stl]

[acht_tag_ident.stl]

[acht_tag_hook.obj]

did you know that acht gives eight a mobility chip in the trailer but a power chip in the actual game? bc i didn't notice until after i'd already finished making the mobility one. so i've got a spare chip i guess

the dogtags were kind of a spur-of-the-moment creative liberty. i had the jelleton one sitting around from some experiments with composite filaments, and while i was brainstorming a way to incorporate acht's cool fish hook into the cosplay without needing to actually get my ears pierced it all sorta clicked together. i made the ident tag shortly afterwards and swiftly forgot what the text says :P

the rest of it

dress tunic thingy

metal eyelets

red string

camo pants

combat boots

i skimped on accuracy in favor of comfort for the lower half ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ the dress is more of a shirt, i added comfy pants bc i hate wearing colored tights (or god forbid painting my thighs green), and shorter boots bc more accurate ones are expensive as hell. plus any heel higher than this makes walking feel like playing qwop (skill issue). speaking of which does it bug anybody else how long acht's feet are on their in-game model or is that just me

idk if it counts as part of the cosplay but i also add a leather jacket when my arms get cold. i think it goes hard

To-Do:

ink the shaved streaks onto the hairnet

swap out the red leather cord for something less stiff

see if beans would work better than marbles

hand bandages?

single pointy tooth?

make a pre-sanitized version so i don't have to scrub off face paint every time

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

We come to a close.

I had to get this out several days after his actual birthday 😅 It was hard since I also had to account for Cater’s birthday on the 4th and got busy irl… I also had to skip responding to some interactions or else we’d have like an extra week of 3-4 Rollos per day.

So sorry for that!! 💦 I hope you at least enjoy this brief closing piece before we go back to our regularly scheduled TWST brain rot and ramblings.

At last.

He had endured.

Barely.

Now the sun was setting, and soon the stars would come out to play. The guests had departed one by one, Noble Bell College students retreating to their own lodging, Night Raven College students returning to their own campus. The student council's chambers were bereft of the souls that had filled and warmed it mere moments ago.

What remained of the celebration were the fun bits and bobs, confetti scattered on the floor and decorations still hung up. There was leftover cake and wrapping yet to be discarded, a pile of opened presents to organize.

An entire mess.

Rollo reflexively reached for a broom and dustpan only for another hand to come down upon his. He looked up into the gentle face of his vice president.

"Let me get that for you."

Rollo frowned. "I am perfectly capable of assisting with cleaning."

His vice gave him a sympathetic smile as he eased the broom and dustpan out of Rollo's grasp. "I've never doubted that for one second, Mister President—but the clock hasn't quite struck midnight yet."

"That's right," the aide chimed in from atop a stepladder. He was busy unpinning a banner that ran across the doorway. "You should head home early for once. We've got this covered."

"I can see that you two remain stubborn about this matter up until the last second," Rollo said tightly. How irksome.

He had hit a brick wall—and his patience was worn down to its last leg. Swallowing his pride, he relented. "... Very well, I will retire for the evening then. However, I expect to see this room spic and span tomorrow morning for our regular activities.”

"You got it, Mister President!"

He briskly made his exit, leaving the student council members to their duties.

His steps were neat and fleet, leaving not a sound nor a scuff in his path. Quiet as a mouse—or rat—skittering under the cover of night.

At this hour, the halls were dark and desolate, save for the pale moonlight through stained glass. When he passed the windows, their colors flickered, sliced by shadow. The corridor spilled into an atrium, empty like the rest of the school—

Rollo’s footsteps came to a halt. He caught himself on a pillar, his breath hitching.

Flowers.

White ones.

They flooded the atrium, covering the floors and snaking up columns, stairways, and bannisters. Curled petals up to his ankles, the color of them pure as fresh snow, untainted by outside forces. They were shaped like trumpets, filaments sticking out in fanfare.

Lilies, white lilies.

And the light trace of magic in the air, the feeling akin to soap bubbles popping on the skin. A tingle, a sampling of something rich and dark and wrong.

Rollo scowled at the field of flowers. He had no doubt in his mind where the flowers had come from.

A voice called out to him.

"What do you think of my parting gift, Flamme?"

"... Malleus Draconia."

At the name, a pair of luminous green eyes appeared in the darkness. The fairy prince, wearing a bemused grin, emerged from his hiding place. He was across the way from Rollo, poised like a marble statue under a silver spotlight.

“Come to get one last jab in before you crawl home?” Rollo demanded with a scowl. His polite pretenses were cast aside—his true face showing. He approached his archnemesis, not caring that he trampled flora underneath his heel. “The white flowers are a touch dramatic.”

“I thought you would like them.”

“What would give you that impression?”

Malleus laughed, clear and resonant in the large room. He casually stroked a lily climbing up to the ceiling. “I mulled over what your gift should be for the longest time. I finally came to the conclusion that the color white suits you best.”

“I prefer red,” Rollo snapped back, “and no flowers at all if they are to come from you.”

“Ah, but is white not the color of a saint? That is what you are in their eyes.” Malleus showed his teeth. His incisors were like knives. “A savior, a blessing... hence the white. Red is for sinners.”

A chill raced down Rollo’s spine.

Sins crawling on his back.

Discomfort and confusion twisted in his gut. The color crimson, a hot imprint in his heart. Rights and wrongs looked so similar viewed under the same red-colored lenses.

He clenched his fists.

“… You are not welcome here. Get out,” Rollo spat. “Get out now. I do not have the time to take heed of your inane ramblings and attempts at deception…!”

He was getting frantic, his volume growing louder and louder. At the height of the crescendo, it suddenly dropped to a sputter.

Blink, and Malleus was gone. Blink, and the space where he once stood was nothing more than twinkling green lights.

Blink…

… and Rollo was alone among the flowers.

[synnthamonsugar]

Through the diffuse blue mist of the Queen's inner sanctum walked Eris Morn, right wrist laid softly against the pommel of her sword, left holding the ahamkara bone shard. Prepared, she hoped, for any contingency. No acolytes stalked nor shriekers spied as she made her way through hedge-rows overgrown with lush red flowers and shimmering filaments, her only companions white marble statues of thrall forever prostrate in supplication or bent toward the heavens in silent worship. The only sounds her footsteps and the streams of water that tinkled from high fountains.

She had visited the Altars of Reflection before, on Hidden duty, but she was not here today on the order of Ikora Rey. She didn't even tell her — an old habit she was loath to return to — though she'd left a note in a place Ikora would inevitably look if she did not return in time. She hoped it would not come to that, clutching the shard a bit tighter, fingers tensing over the hilt of the sword.

Once she had stood at the altar and listened to wisdom or trickery or both dispensed by a ghostly recollection of the Queen of Lies. Today, the genuine article knelt before her, hands resting loosely in her lap, wings spread behind like the train of a gown. There's a hazy quality to the optics in the chamber, the same as everywhere else here, shafts of light breaking around Savathûn's massive body, casting her front in violet shadows, accentuating the ripples of rainbow light that flicker at the edges of her form. Lucent moths flitted about the tines of her bone diadem and pauldrons.

"Thank you for coming," Savathûn purred as Eris stepped forward into the shade, craning her neck upward to meet her eyes-to-eyes.

"I didn't have to." It's hard not to feel dominated from this vantage, so the statement is a reminder to both herself and Savathûn that she still has power here. Even without Xivu's stolen tithes or her hive god-form.

"Which makes your presence all the more meaningful. I apologize for summoning you, but there are private matters I wish to attend to without the interference of Ikora or the Guardian, delighted as I am by their companionship." There's an earnestness to her voice that unnerves Eris more than if she'd been obviously lying.

"What matters?"

"Parting gifts . . . ones that you alone have the power to understand. To wield."

Savathûn outstretched her hands, palms-up, and produced from the aether a stiletto of bone and chitin, coruscating with prismatic light.

The blessings of the Traveler itself, Eris realized when she picked up the knife. To feel arc and solar and void after so long made her ache with longing, so she turned her attention to its craftsmanship: its weight and its balance in her hands, the detail of the carving on its handle and guard. Some of the moths that had circled Savathûn's crown tracked to her hand, tickling her with small shocks even through her thick gauntlets, but never attacking. "Impressive. How did you imbue your Light on an object in this manner?"

Savathûn smiled coyly. "Why, the simplest way."

With a jolt of horror and awe Eris realized that she held in her hand a live piece of the Queen. Her experiments had extended, unsurprisingly, to herself, and she had found a way to successfully project her Light beyond her contiguous body.

"It ought to keep you safe in my absence. But even the finest weapons are useless to a warrior who has no armor, so I offer you another present:"

She lifted her clawed hands upward, and sang.

Eris could not forget the melody of the Witch Queen's Song even if she tried, but she had never before heard its lyrics. Her skin prickled with goosebumps as Savathûn sonorously enunciated each syllable, words she now understood to be a hive invocation of the Sky, a self-sustaining, self-replicating command for protection, for creation.

The singing drew to silence, but the words still rippled through Eris' mind. She held onto them as she held the blade in her hand. 

"What am I meant to do with these?"

"What I would," Savathûn replied. As vague as Eris expected, less helpfully than she'd hoped. "You'll know what to do. Trust me."

"You haven't made that easy." 

Savathûn laughed, low and gentle.

"Once, when I was a worse person, I came to you. I said that we are one, and asked if you hated it. I pose that question to you again, Eris, now that I have become more like you and you more like me, both of us the better for it . . . perhaps the best we have been, the best we can be, in every world and eventually."

Her head swam, her heart pounded as she groped for a response. "Savathûn, I—"

She reached for Eris, the pad of one clawed finger almost the size of her face. Despite that, the touch against her ichor-slicked cheek was feather soft. "You needn't struggle for an answer. It is something for you to think about. A final gift."

"Until next time, my dear," she said, before vanishing in a ripple of light and color.

[3dwithus]

Creality Ender 3 V3 Plus Review: 3D Printer Testing

Phil Macey tested the Creality Ender 3 V3 Plus by printing various complex models for his review. He featured designs from talented artists from STLFlix, Scheettini, and CinderWing3D. Exotic materials such as wood and marble filaments were used for evaluation.

[warriors-rewritten-chaos]

Warrior Cats Prefixes- M

I had a WC Name Generator on Perchance that I made but I don't seem to have access anymore, so I'm remaking it here as just a simple list. The definitions used are the ones that Clan cats have for those things, and thus are the origins of the names. Definitions used are whatever I found when I googled it.

Maggot-: "[noun] a soft-bodied legless larva, especially that of a fly found in decaying matter"

Magnolia-: "[noun] a tree or shrub with large, typically creamy-pink, waxy flowers"

Magpie-: "[noun] a long-tailed crow with boldly marked (or green) plumage and a raucous voice; [noun] used in similes or comparisons to refer to a person who collects things, especially things of little use or value, or a person who chatters idly"

Mallard-: "[noun] the most common duck of the northern hemisphere and the ancestor of most domestic ducks, the male having a dark green head and white collar"

Mallow-: "[noun] a herbaceous plant with hairy stems, pink or purple flowers, and disk-shaped fruit"

Mantis-: "[noun] a slender predatory insect related to the cockroach. It waits motionless for prey with its large spiky forelegs folded like hands in prayer"

Maple-: "[noun] tree or shrub with lobed leaves, winged fruits, and colorful autumn foliage"

Marble-: "[noun] a hard crystalline metamorphic form of limestone, typically white with mottlings or streaks of color"

Marbled-: "[adj] having a streaked and patterned appearance like that of variegated marble"

Marigold-: "[noun] a plant of the daisy family, typically with yellow, orange, or copper-brown flowers"

Marrow-: "[noun] a soft fatty substance in the cavities of bones"

Marsh-: "[noun] an area of low-lying land which is flooded in wet seasons or at high tide, and typically remains waterlogged at all times"

Marten-: "[noun] a chiefly arboreal weasel-like mammal found in Eurasia and North America"

Mayflower-: "[noun] a name given to several plants that bloom in May, especially certain hepaticas and anemones and the trailing arbutus"

Mayfly-: "[noun] a short-lived, slender insect with delicate, transparent wings and two or three long filaments on the tail that lives close to water"

Mayhaw-: "[noun] a hawthorn (Crataegus aestivalis) of the southern U.S. that bears a juicy scarlet acid frui"

Mazegill-: "[noun] a species of mushroom in the order Polyporales, and the type species of the genus Daedalea. Commonly known as the oak mazegill or maze-gill fungus, the specific epithet refers to the oak genus Quercus, upon which it frequently grows, causing a brown rot"

Mazzard-: "[noun] a cherry tree native to both Eurasia and North America, commercially important for both its fruit and wood"

Meadow-: "[noun] a piece of grassland; [noun] a piece of low ground near a river"

Meadowlark-: "[noun] a ground-dwelling songbird of the American blackbird family, with a brown streaky back and yellow and black underparts"

Melody-: "[noun]  sequence of single notes that is musically satisfying"

Merlin-: "[noun] a small dark falcon that hunts small birds, found throughout most of Eurasia and much of North America"

Midge-: "[noun] a small two-winged fly that is often seen in swarms near water or marshy areas where it breeds"

Midnight-: "[noun] the middle period of the night"

Milk-: "[noun] an opaque white fluid rich in fat and protein, secreted by female mammals for the nourishment of their young"

Milkcap-: "[noun] a species of mushroom characterized by the milky fluid they exude when cut or damaged"

Milkweed-: "[noun] a herbaceous American plant with milky sap. Some kinds attract butterflies, some yield a variety of useful products, and some are grown as ornamentals"

Milky-: "[adj] resembling milk in color"

Mink-: "[noun] a small semiaquatic carnivore resembling the stoat, native to North America and Eurasia"

Minnow-: "[noun]  small freshwater Eurasian cyprinoid fish that typically forms large shoals"

Mint-: "[noun] an aromatic plant native to temperate regions of the Old World"

Mire-: "[noun] a stretch of swampy or boggy ground"

Mist-: "[noun] a cloud of tiny water droplets suspended in the atmosphere at or near the earth's surface that limits visibility"

Mistle-: "[noun] a bird common to much of Europe, temperate Asia and North Africa"

Mistletoe-: "[noun] a leathery-leaved parasitic plant which grows on apple, oak, and other broadleaf trees and bears white glutinous berries in winter"

Misty-: "[adj] full of, covered with, or accompanied by mist; [adj] indistinct or dim in outline"

Mite-: "[noun] a minute arachnid which has four pairs of legs when adult, related to ticks"

Mockingbird-: "[noun] a long-tailed songbird with grayish plumage, found mainly in tropical America and noted for its mimicry of the calls and songs of other birds"

Mole-: "[noun] a small burrowing insectivorous mammal with dark velvety fur, a long muzzle, and very small eyes"

Moon-: "[noun] the natural satellite of the earth, visible (chiefly at night) by reflected light from the sun"

Moor-: "[noun] a tract of open uncultivated upland; a heath"

Moorhen-: "[noun] a small aquatic rail with mainly blackish plumage"

Moose-: "[noun] a large deer with palmate antlers, a sloping back, and a growth of skin hanging from the neck"

Morel-: "[noun] a widely distributed edible fungus which has a brown oval or pointed fruiting body with an irregular honeycombed surface bearing the spores"

Morning-: "[noun] the period of time between midnight and noon, especially from sunrise to noon"

Moss-: "[noun] a small flowerless green plant that lacks true roots, growing in damp habitats and reproducing by means of spores released from stalked capsules; [noun] a green color like that of moss"

Mossy-: "[adj] resembling moss; [adj] covered with moss or something like moss"

Mosquito-: "[noun] a slender long-legged fly with aquatic larvae. The females consume blood"

Moth-: "[noun] a chiefly nocturnal insect related to butterflies. It lacks the clubbed antennae of butterflies and typically has a stout body, drab coloration, and wings that fold flat when resting"

Mottled-: "[adj] marked with spots or smears of color"

Mottlegill-: "[noun] a genus of small, black-spored, saprotrophic agarics with spotted gills"

Mountain-: "[noun] a large natural elevation of the earth's surface rising abruptly from the surrounding level"

Mouse-: "[noun] a small rodent that typically has a pointed snout, relatively large ears and eyes, and a long tail"

Mud-: "[noun] soft, sticky matter resulting from the mixing of earth and water"

Muddy-: "[adj] covered in or full of mud"

Mulberry-: "[noun] a small deciduous tree with broad leaves; [noun] a dark red or purple color"

Mumble-: "[verb] say something indistinctly and quietly, making it difficult for others to hear; [noun] a quiet and indistinct utterance"

Murk-: "[noun] darkness or thick mist that makes it difficult to see"

Murky-: "[adj] dark and gloomy, especially due to thick mist; [adj] (of liquid) dark and dirty, not clear"

Mushroom-: "[noun] a fungal growth that typically takes the form of a domed cap on a stalk, with gills on the underside of the cap"

Myrtle-: "[noun] an evergreen shrub which has glossy aromatic foliage and white flowers followed by purple-black oval berries"

[nmsc-market-pulse]

The Art of Building Meat: Bioprinting Techniques in Cultured Meat Market Production

Introduction:

The future of food is taking shape in bioreactors and 3D printers. Cultured Meat Market, also known as clean meat or lab-grown meat, emerges as a revolutionary solution to the environmental and ethical concerns surrounding traditional meat production. This article delves into the fascinating world of bioprinting techniques, a key component in creating complex, delicious cultured meat products.

Download FREE Sample: https://www.nextmsc.com/cultured-meat-market/request-sample

Cultured Meat: A Sustainable Disruption

Traditional meat production carries a significant environmental burden, contributing to deforestation, greenhouse gas emissions, and water pollution. Cultured meat offers a promising alternative, growing meat from animal cells in a controlled environment.

Here's a simplified breakdown of the process:

Cell Collection: A small sample of muscle stem cells is obtained from an animal through a minimally invasive procedure.

Cell Culture: These cells are multiplied in a nutrient-rich medium within bioreactors.

Differentiation and Maturation: Controlled growth factors in the medium stimulate the cells to differentiate and mature into muscle tissue.

Bioprinting: This innovative step allows for precise arrangement of the cells to create the desired structure and texture of meat.

Maturation and Processing: The bioprinted meat undergoes further maturation and processing to achieve the final product.

Inquire before buying: https://www.nextmsc.com/cultured-meat-market/inquire-before-buying

Bioprinting: Engineering the Future of Meat

Bioprinting takes cultured meat production to a whole new level. Here's how it works:

Digital Design: A computer-aided design (CAD) model is created to define the desired structure of the meat product, such as a steak or a burger patty.

Bioink Preparation: A biocompatible material, often containing a mixture of cells, nutrients, and scaffolding materials, is prepared for printing.

3D Printing Process: The bioink is loaded into a bioprinter, which uses computer-controlled mechanisms to deposit the bioink layer-by-layer, replicating the designed structure.

Cell Culture and Maturation: Once printed, the bioprinted cells are allowed to mature and grow within a bioreactor, mimicking the natural development of muscle tissue.

Benefits of Bioprinting for Cultured Meat

Bioprinting offers several advantages in the production of cultured meat:

Complex Structures: Bioprinting allows for the creation of complex, multi-cellular structures that mimic the texture and marbling of traditional meat cuts. This is difficult to achieve with traditional culturing techniques.

Fat Distribution: Bioprinting enables precise control over fat distribution within the meat, allowing for the creation of leaner or marbled cuts as desired.

Customization: Bioprinting paves the way for personalized meat products tailored to specific dietary needs or preferences.

Vascularization: Bioprinting can potentially be used to create vascular networks within the cultured meat, promoting cell growth and mimicking the natural delivery of nutrients and oxygen.

Types of Bioprinting Techniques for Cultured Meat

Several bioprinting techniques are being explored for cultured meat production, each with its own advantages and limitations:

Extrusion-based Bioprinting: This common technique uses a pressurized system to deposit bioink through a nozzle, creating a filamentous structure. It's suitable for high-viscosity bioinks but may have limitations in resolution.

Inkjet Bioprinting: Similar to an inkjet printer, this technique uses a jet of bioink droplets to create a patterned structure. It offers high resolution but may be limited in the types of bioinks it can handle.

Stereolithography (SLA): This light-based technique uses a laser to solidify layers of bioink resin, building the desired structure layer-by-layer. It offers high accuracy but may require specialized biomaterials.

Challenges and Opportunities in Bioprinting for Cultured Meat

While bioprinting holds immense promise, some challenges need to be addressed:

Cost Reduction: Bioprinting equipment and bioink development are currently expensive, requiring cost optimization for large-scale production.

Bioink Development: Creating bioinks that are biocompatible, support cell growth, and allow for precise printing remains an ongoing area of research.

Scalability: Scaling up bioprinting processes to meet commercial production demands requires further advancements in technology and infrastructure.

However, these challenges offer exciting opportunities for innovation:

Advancements in Biomaterial Science: Development of affordable and efficient bioinks specifically tailored for cultured meat is crucial for large-scale adoption.

Bioprinter Design and Optimization: Improvements in bioprinter design can increase printing speed, resolution, and efficiency for cost-effective production.

Collaboration Between Researchers and Industry: Collaboration can accelerate research and development efforts to overcome technical hurdles and improve bioprinting techniques.

Conclusion: A Bite of the Future - Bioprinted Cultured Meat

Bioprinting represents a transformative leap in the world of cultured meat. This technology holds the potential to create delicious, sustainable, and ethical meat alternatives, replicating the textures and flavors we crave.

While challenges remain in terms of cost reduction, bioink development, and scalability, ongoing research and collaboration are paving the way for advancements. Bioprinting paves the way for a future where:

Cultured meat becomes readily available and affordable for consumers.

Bioprinting techniques can create a wider variety of meat products, from steaks to sausages.

Consumers can enjoy the taste and texture of meat while making a positive environmental impact.

[whartonists]

Flowers and Fake Marble: How TV Production Designers Create the Past (The New York Times)

“I always say that if there were a marble Olympics, our team would definitely take the gold,” Bob Shaw bragged.

Shaw, the Emmy-winning production designer of the HBO drama “The Gilded Age,” was discussing the painstaking effort and maddening attention to detail that goes into painting a wooden column so that the camera can’t help but read it as stone. The scenic artists of “The Gilded Age” can paint a half-dozen distinct marble varieties. To pause at nearly any frame of the show is to marvel at the meticulous mix of authentic materials and brilliant fakes. Look closely at the candelabras, for example: They are fitted with fire-safe LEDs hooked to wavering filaments that substitute for open flame.

Though production design is often seen as a mere backdrop to the action, the scenery, furnishings, finishes and props have their own stories to tell. And these stories are often especially intricate in period dramas, in which a need for accuracy must accommodate narrative demands and the constraints of a show’s budget.

[...]

Flowers were not enough.

In the first season of “The Gilded Age,” the home of Bertha Russell (Carrie Coon), the wife of a railroad magnate (Morgan Spector), was garlanded with fields of flowers for each social event. So even though the script for the first episode of Season 2, which premieres on HBO on Oct. 29, described the Russell home as resplendent with flowers, Shaw knew he had to do more.

In a scene at the close of the episode, Bertha, a patron of the nascent Metropolitan Opera, arranges a surprise performance of a song from Gounod’s “Faust” by the Swedish soprano Christine Nilsson. While her guests are dining, her sumptuous staircase is transformed into Marguerite’s garden. There are flowers, yes, a mix of real and artificial ones, garlanding the railings. But above the staircase are several panels of hand-painted Italian scenery, as would have been seen in the opera houses of the day.

“It was a challenge to have it be beautiful and evocative and tasteful and not be cute,” Shaw said. “It conveys that Bertha goes to extremes beyond what anyone could imagine to get what she wants.”

The result is ostentatious but still gorgeous. This is a line that Shaw and his team often walk, on lush carpeting. “The Gilded Age” dramatizes the conflict between new money, like the Russells, and old money, like their near neighbors, Agnes van Rhijn (Christine Baranski) and Ada Brook (Cynthia Nixon). The excesses of the new money crowd gave the Gilded Age its name, but whether in the studio or filming on location in various historic homes, Shaw balances lavishness with restraint.

“In all of the houses that we did, we had to back off a little bit from the 100 percent period look,” Shaw said. “Because it’s too much visual information for modern eyes.” He is careful to avoid using the set decoration, a combination of period furniture and scenic art, to judge or insult the characters.

“They’re more complex,” he said. “They’re not simply out to say, ‘Anything you can have I can have bigger.’”

[skin-quilt]

THE ROCK ROCK

[auburniivenus]

❛  you have no idea what you're doing to me.  ❜ [ 👀 ]

YOUR   ARMS   ARE   OPEN   WIDE.   Her   splendorous   form,   an   orchestra   of   opalescent   alabaster,   conveyed   the   subtle   vestiges   of   a   romantic   blush,   a   mere   suggestion   of   a   lover’s   clandestine   caress.   Each   hesitant   touch,   like   a   languorous   whisper   of   an   intimate   secret,   summoned   forth   an   enkindling   warmth   that   saturated   her   diaphanous   skin.   Auburn   filaments   cascaded   with   the   meticulous   splendor   of   molten   silk,   framing   shoulders   that   bespoke   the   poetry   of   fragile   appetite,   and   her   hues,   twin   pools   of   fervent   desire,   echoed   the   passion   that   transcended   the   perimeters   of   mere   mortal   contemplation.

Orihime’s   mellifluous   pronunciation,   a   siren’s   serenade,   assaulted   the   silence   with   a   serenity   that   obscured   the   tempest   within.   “Ichigo.”   She   breathed,   the   word   a   quivering   psaltery   of   fervor,   a   memorial   to   the   surging   tide   of   passion   that   swelled   within   her   bosom,   each   inhalation   reminiscent   of   tides   stirred   by   an   unstoppable   moon.

The   sanguine   flame   of   his   glance,   ABLAZE   with   an   ardor   that   paralleled   her   own,   met   her   eyes   in   a   dance   of   heated   communion.   Their   bodies   intertwined   in   a   divine   consummation,   a   fusion   that   at   last   granted   voice   to   their   once   unspoken   carnal   appetite.   Flesh   merged   into   flesh   with   a   primal   urgency,   as   if   in   that   entwining,   they   sought   to   erase   the   essential   notion   of   distance   that   had   kept   them   apart.   Gossamer   veils   of   her   garments,   now   thrown   away   like   temporal   constraints,   pooled   with   a   sophisticated   nonchalance   upon   the   polished   marble   floor.   The   discarded   remnants   of   silk   and   lace   seemed   to   trace   the   enigmatic   outlines   of   their   concupiscence,   an   ephemeral   ode   to   the   illicit   ballet   they   had   choreographed   upon   the   stage   of   PREDILECTION.

“My   soul   calls   for   you.”   She   uttered,   each   impassioned   word   a   cadence   that   echoed   through   the   dimly   lit   chamber.   Time,   a   willing   accomplice   in   the   theater   of   desire,   quieted   and   concurred   with   her   plea   for   surcease.   In   this   dreamscape,   they   surrendered   wholly   unto   each   other.   Boundaries   dissolved,   and   they   melded   beyond   the   confines   of   physical   notion,   two   souls   entangled   in   the   eternal   ballet   of   eternal   ecstasy.

[circe-pendragon]

I’m currently feeling many emotions about space. Let me share them with you.

That’s our Earth. Precious blue marble. Dirt orb. And our atmosphere which is keeping us all alive with a lifetime supply of free, clear air. Beyond that begins outer space.

These are our nearest neighbors in our solar system. The moon and sun, ever beautiful. Mercury, Venus, and Mars, the planets closest to us.

Going out further, beyond the asteroid belt, there’s Jupiter and Saturn, the biggest planets in our solar system. Jupiter is 1300 times bigger than Earth.

The planets furthest away from the Sun are Uranus and Neptune. And then there’s our dear Pluto, a dwarf planet - but he’s not alone in that category. There are five other dwarf planets in our solar system. The furthest of those is Eris. Beyond Eris lies the Heliopause which marks the border into interstellar space.

Proxima Centauri is the star closest to our Sun. After leaving our solar system, we might breach into the vast empty darkness of interstellar space and set a course for our nearest neighbor. If we were traveling at the (to us unreachable) speed of light, we would arrive in 4246 years.

Proxima Centauri and our Sun are two of hundreds of billions of stars in our galaxy, the Milky Way.

Traveling from one of the Milky Way to the other (at the speed of light, which we have no way of reaching) would take 100 000 years.

Our galaxy is home to hundreds of billions of stars and hundreds of billions of planets. Only about 5000 of them are deemed habitable and potentially life-sustaining.

We haven’t found any signs of life though. Our signals have been left unanswered. Our search for a sign of an intelligent extraterrestrial civilization has so far been fruitless. We haven’t been looking for too long though, and we’ll keep looking. Against all odds.

I don’t think we’ll ever find anything.

Our communication is limited by the speed of light. If there were a theoretical alien civilization out there, even if existed on our nearest neighbor Alpha Centauri (which it doesn’t) it would take thousands of years for any of our signals to reach them. If they haven’t burned themselves out by then, their answer (if they choose to reply) will take another few thousands of years to reach us, if we still exist.

We are not going to encounter signs of intelligent alien life, unless those aliens have found a way to overcome the limit of the speed of light. But that’s okay. Let’s look further beyond our galaxy.

Our closest intergalactic neighbor is the Andromeda galaxy. I won’t tell you how far away it is from us because it doesn’t matter. We’ll never reach it, and nothing from there ever reach us except for light that’s millions of years old. Andromeda is slightly larger than the Milky Way but it’s made of the same stuff. Hundreds of billions of stars and solar systems and planets. Many of them surely potentially habitable and life-sustaining. But we’ll never know.

The Milky Way and Andromeda along with roughly thirty other galaxies both belong to the Local Group. Groups are collections of up to fifty galaxies in close proximity to each other. Larger collections of galaxies are called Clusters. These can consist of hundreds or even thousands of galaxies. And as structures in our universe that are beholden to the laws of gravity, Clusters can also form larger structures, aptly named Superclusters.

Superclusters are the second largest structures in the universe. There are estimated to be about 10 million of them within our observable universe. Try to think of what that means. Ten million Superclusters, each with thousands of galaxies and each galaxy with thousands of billions of stars and planets. You can’t imagine that. Your brain is not meant to. It’s literally unfathomable.

The largest type of structure in our observable universe is called a Filament, a group of superclusters. They are also sometimes called Sheets or Walls of Galaxies.

We have reached the edge of the observable universe. We cannot see beyond it, simply because no light from beyond has reached us yet. On a cosmic scale, the speed of light is painfully slow. But this is not the edge of the universe, only the edge of what we might potentially ever know about this part of it.

Numbers have lost all meaning at this point. It doesn’t matter how many galaxies there are out there beyond or within the borders of the observable universe. It doesn’t matter how far Andromeda is away from our Milky Way, or how far we are from such a tiny, insignificant distance as our nearest star. We’ll never reach Alpha Centauri, we’ll never reach Andromeda, or any other galaxy, or any other star aside from our own. Information or signals from these painfully close and yet impossibly far away places have no way of reaching us if they are bound to the speed of light.

Thinking about all of this has literally made me cry twice this past week. But oddly enough, it gives me hope. I can’t even say why, maybe it’s just my brains way of dealing with the impossibility and vastness of it all. But most importantly, I know life is out there. I know it for a fact. With this many stars, this many galaxies…there is no way that intelligent alien life didn’t develop on at least one of them. It doesn’t matter if we never reach it. It also doesn’t matter if it vanished millions of years ago, or will only develop a hundred thousand years in the future. No matter how far we are apart from them, divided by time and space, it exists. We are not alone.

[tiredandineffable]

Guess who’s writing again? 👀

[image description: a computer screen showing a Google Doc. The following text is written on the Google Doc:

He smiled like a candle in the night. It drew everyone in, warm and inviting. Pulled up at the corners like he had a secret he’d share with you if only you’d just pull in closer. And draw closer Crowley did. Crowley went up to him like a moth to the lamplight, the same lamplight that bathed Aziraphael’s face in a soft glow. The warm flickering lights of the wall sconces reflected off the old marble floors. The once-bright marble had been stained by centuries of spilled wine and other signs of lively parties from years gone by.

They had danced here before. Under candlelight, lamplight, and, eventually, under ageing filament bulbs that all miraculously still shone.

And now the angel seemed to dance under his own light.]

[etruatcaelum]

🗝

🗝 ― a memory you never want to forget.

Summer almost doesn’t hear it. It’s raining bullets and the roaring tattoo of the downpour drowns every other sound; but the wind goes slack for an instant, like the storm catching its breath, and in the same moment there is a tight, choked cry.

The book of botanical sketches she’d been idly leafing through slips through her fingers. She isn’t conscious of making the decision to jump to her feet and move, only that the dimly-lit stone halls seem to melt around her—and then she blinks and she’s skidding into the foyer, and Salem–

—Salem cowers.

She goes very still, staring into those glassy crimson eyes. Salem is huddled in a crumpled heap against the frame of the open door, soaked through, hair unspooled and spilling tangled and stringy to the floor. Her dress is shredded to rags and dissolving, its outer layers sloughing off of her in uneven ropes of ink-black slime.

And she’s clutching at one side of her face and neck with bloodstained hands.

“…Summer,” Salem whispers. She’s shaking. The faultless composure Summer has come to know over the course of the last two years is fractured, and pure desolation bleeds through the cracks.

Summer steps closer, heedless of the rain lashing through the doorway, and drops onto her knees. She’s never touched Salem before, and in two years she cannot remember Salem ever once reaching to touch her; but she lifts her hand now, and Salem tenses but does not flinch when Summer’s fingers settle gingerly on her wrist.

“Show me,” Summer says.

Shuddering, Salem shuts her eyes. The intention drains out of her arms; she submits to the careful pressure, lets Summer slowly ease her hands away.

The skin underneath is peachy and flushed—human. Riddled with livid red lesions and open sores oozing blood and ichor: peeling away to expose black muscle marbled with dark-purple filaments more like mycelium than veins. Even as Summer stares, one of the bigger lesions ripens to plum-dark necrosis and begins to eat itself. Salem breathes out a whimper.

“What the fuck did this to you?”

“…Sil– silver.”

Salem’s eyes flicker sideways. She sounds almost apologetic, and Summer gapes at her for a moment. It will injure me in a way that takes months to heal, she’d said. So calmly. Like it meant nothing.

She meant this?

“Who.”

Shaking her head, Salem whispers, “He’s dead.”

“Okay,” Summer says softly, “okay–” She’s still holding Salem by the wrists, grip maybe too tight, rocked by the welling of molten anger in her gut. Months. “—Let’s… let’s get out of the rain, huh?”

There’s more, she sees as she helps Salem struggle upright again. Her dress is held together by threads over patches of rotting humanlike skin all down her side; everything below the knee is a crawling mass of bruises and dead tissue. But with Summer to lean on, she’s able to limp as far as the kitchen before the leg gives out again.

“You don’t,” Salem rasps as Summer lowers her into her chair, “need t-”

“Don’t be stupid,” Summer tells her. A shadow moves behind Salem’s eyes when Summer kneels before her: uncertain, apprehensive. Maybe confused. “Salem. Tell me what happened?”

Silence. Her lips part to emit the creak of a dying syllable. Then nothing.

“Please.”

“There… was—a huntsman,” Salem says, voice small. “…I tore out his throat.”

“Did you know he was there?”

Those bony shoulders hunch, and Salem’s face wrenches with anxiety that does not make sense until she whispers, “He attacked us–”

“I know, I know, Salem, I know you. But send me next time.” Summer trips over the words in her haste to clarify the rage that Salem, she remembers belatedly, can see howling in the depths of her soul; she takes those bloodied hands in hers and squeezes as gently as she knows how. “Please. I’ll—”

She hasn’t touched Sundered Rose in two years. She never imagined she could want to pick up her weapon again, but roaring in her veins now is the searing conviction that if Salem hadn’t killed him, Summer would.

“Salem,” she says quietly. “You saved my life. Let me protect you from this.”

[rememberiamnotfrancheska]

Echo

I’ve done what was asked Winnowed and chiseled

Flakes of marble fell at my feet Dust sticking to sweated skin Until I emerged, lithe and white

I accounted for myself Ordered and reordered My thoughts Until my mind whirred and clicked and gleamed

But still. For every neatly ordered day There grows, dark and moist beneath my feet

My echo. Fine filaments like mycelium, incessant In their spread And serving only their own delights in the dark

This appetite, this stranger Searches with flicking tongue every fossil, secret spring And sweet loam

I may confess and aver, deny three times To that thin and clanging air But what use?

Is it me, who carves and assays? Or is this rigid spine A mere beacon to appetites in the dark?