#mouldier

[derelictdumbass]

Raze & Salvador (Underworld) — Two hounds have an unconventional meet cute and spend decades pining over each other. Maybe one day they'll kiss

Darius & Ethan (Resident Evil) — Hitman turned gay lover! Tired mould man doesn't know why he keeps attracting people who work for underground organizations into human experimentation

Faith & Peggie!Dean (Far Cry 5) — Traumatised man turns evil for a woman high off her face whose into making everyone else high off their faces. He is also high

Made some gays in this picrew <3 Tagging: @viktor-sinclaire @sparklyshiba @headsmasher @space-sweetheart @thatcemeterybabe and anyone else who would like to do it!

[oidheadh-con-culainn]

advice on making my bedroom not get mouldier? treated the existing mould with mould&mildew cleaner and have had a dehumidifier and an air purifier running all afternoon (too cold for windows open to ventilate). drying laundry in the room is unfortunately unavoidable which is why the dehumidifier is there but the mould is actually at the opposite end of the room to the laundry and seems to be more because I have the audacity to need to breathe while sleeping, so, need a long term solution

[dawnstorms]

IV. SIN'DOREI FOOD, DRINK, AND OTHER CULTURAL TRADITIONS

LEISURE

In terms of leisure activities, the Sin'dorei enjoy a plethora of delights that range from the lavishly self-indulgent to the almost bewilderingly mundane:

Raising and caring for mana wyrmlings is an ancient practice that dates back to the pre-Azsharan era of the Highborne, when these creatures were first created by magisters. More alike to familiars than to true beasts, mana wyrmlings require no upkeep but the passive mana provided by their surroundings, and drift lazily from place to place in an endless search for more pockets of magical energy. Useful both for spellbreaking (as a last resort defense of one's self) and for locating strong or fluctuating points along the ley lines, mana wyrmlings are often also good pets as long as they are well fed… but not exactly interesting ones. Initially, the wyrms were used to tend to our forests and gardens on our behalf, and most even in the wild still do so today. 

(However, which line of 'breeding' they descend from significantly alters their base personality, such as 'shimmering' wyrmlings — supposedly the most alike to their initial creator's vision — which are known for their beautifully diamond-like scales and sweet, cuddly temperaments. The few dedicated hobbyists there are take great pains to trace the lineages of such things, even if a wyrmling that hungers is still a wyrmling that bites no matter its 'station'.)

FOOD

The average Sin'dorei eats predominantly fungi and fruit. 

They are not vegetarian: lynxes are eaten in hard times, or when the population needs to be culled, but is otherwise uncommon. Dragonhawk eggs are also plentiful and inexpensive, and are often had at least once per day; cold saltwater fish make up the vast majority of their meat consumption, but in most households would be limited to a weekly or biweekly dinner dish. In southern Quel'thalas, making kabobs out of spider meat is also implied to be a very common dish if not a very popular one, not at all unlike the Kaldorei's predilection towards it. The texture is apparently quite crunchy, and it is especially repulsive to the more 'civilized' folk from Silvermoon City: 

("This is intolerable! I have nothing to work with here! Milady asks me to come from Silvermoon City; she deserves cuisine as befits her station. No? But I get here and there is no food. You must go out, <class>, and bring back fresh kills so that I have something to prepare. Dame Auriferous prefers a crunchy texture to her food. There are plenty of spindleweb lurkers to the southwest on the other side of the Dead Scar. Disgusting, I know, but that's what we have to work with."

— Culinary Crunch, Master Chef Mouldier — The Burning Crusade)

Having already been a seafaring species and culturally revering sailors from the time of their nation's founding, Quel'thalas itself is surrounded by ample but cold saltwater oceans and comparatively limited forest, which the nature-revering Quel'dorei had ever been protective of—to say nothing of the initial Amani occupation of the area, which further limited their ability to both farm and to expand even if they had wanted to deforest some areas for farming. Sin'dorei cuisine consequently revolves heavily around fishing. They protect the local wildlife but also preserve the balance that had already existed before they arrived; though the razing of Quel'thalas has reduced the population of their wildlife to dangerously near-extinction numbers, prior to that point the Sin'dorei had also enjoyed the meat of the local wildlife. As the culling of the local fauna is a protected and near-sacred duty carefully regulated by the Farstriders, these meals are generally celebratory or luxurious. 

The lack of a winter season and the nearly endless days during the summer allow Quel'thalas to cultivate nearly anything they desire to. 

Quel'thalas wine is usually made from delicate grapes grown in regions that are now destroyed, or else from pomegranates, goldenbark apples (below), or from honey to make a rich and mana-infused mead. Dandelion and rose hip wine are both not unheard of, but are Kaldorei recipes and are thus uncommonly seen.  

Goldenbark apples are an extremely sweet, mana-rich delicacy favored by the local dragonhawks long before the arrival of the Quel'dorei. These apples naturally fruit very infrequently from the massive and ancient, golden-leaved trees of Quel'thalas, the occurrence of which is always seen as a sign of good fortune and prosperity, and are otherwise only farmed by a select few botanists and rangers in tiny gardens. Magical duplication of the fruit is possible without damaging its flavor, but they simply may not be created from nothing; thus is the possession of apples a mark of status, though neither is it uncommon to see on the tables of even the reasonably comfortable or in the baskets of fruit vendors. 

The fish they consume does not reflect the otherwise temperate-to-tropical, flora-rich environment of their small kingdom. The waters that Quel'thalas controls far outstrips the amount of land it has available to it; furthermore, unlike their control over the land, the harsh northern ocean is far harder to control or change by even magical means. To alter the currents or their temperature would have untold effects on the rest of Azeroth besides. Pinned between the icy seas of Northrend and the cool saltwater oceans that surround island nations such as Kul Tiras, Quel'thalas is entirely ruled by the dominating major currents that sweep down from Northrend but also benefit from its relatively untouched bounty: their ship docks and steep ocean cliffs are home to massive populations of darkwater clams, and huge schools of slitherskin mackerel and sardines are easily fished up a mere few miles offshore. Clams and mackerel are easily foraged by any enterprising Sin'dorei with so much as a canoe, and are thus relatively inexpensive and common meals. The local mackerel are also a particular favorite treat for the Quel'thalas lynx and famously helpful in teaching them tricks. 

There are also coldwater clownfish, damsels, angelfish, butterflyfish, gobies, blennies, and wrassies, all of which can be found in any major cold saltwater body, and these are either kept as decorative pets or used to feed the dragonhawks and lynxes of the Farstrider cavalry. None of them are generally considered to be fit for Sin'dorei consumption. 

Though not native to Quel'thalas, Northrend is particularly famous for its glacial salmon, which mostly live off of the coasts of the Howling Fjord, as well as its dangerous jellyfish and eels. These are rare but treasured visitors. The poison of the Borean man'o'war is one of the most potent that the Farstriders possess; salmon and eel are both highly nutritious and dangerously invasive besides, and so are hunted voraciously and then eaten as expensive delicacies on the rare occasion that they are driven south.

[beehaiku]

not asking how YOU spell it.

[antecraw]

tommy shelby my bbgurl

[mozki]

woked up soso desperate to move idk what to do with myself

[maretriarch]

hey it's me, the mouldy croissant eater. just letting you and @sudrien know that i suffered exactly zero ill effects from eating the slightly mouldy croissants - which isn't surprising, because i've "salvaged" much mouldier bread than that before, lol. it probably depends on the specific fungus; i think american mould is more dangerous.

Im glad you survived cus I was kinda genuinely worried but god is "hey it's me, the mouldy croissant eater" the funniest way to reintroduce yourself

[ilikekidsshows]

"What did I say about your vocal chords, Nooroo?"

"Master, I don't think you're being a good parent"

"Nonsense! My good friend Gendo Ikari commended my parenting skills!"

"Three years" That's before his mom disappeared. Did I seriously miss that the first time?

I'd go with rotten

"Your dad is like cheese, he grows more rotten and mouldier as he grows older"

[thepoetrydiet]

Sangers* are a girl’s best friend

”Mum, this diamond cut sandwich is the best” - A, aged 5

*Australian slang for sandwiches

The French are glad to dine for love

They delight in gourmet brunch

But I prefer a mum who slices

Crusts off my playground lunch…

A croissant with ham

May be quite continental

But sangers are a girl’s best friend.

A quiche may be grand,

But it won’t hit the right spot

For a kid of six,

Who gets energy from Weetabix.

Nuggets grow cold,

When you’re nearly seven years old,

And they taste like a chook’s rear-end…

But square-cut or soldiers,

Sandwiches don’t get no mouldier;

Yes, sangers are girl’s best friend!

[interlude]

Crepes,

Sushi,

Gyros,

Banh mi …

Talk to me, Earl of Sandwich, tell me all about it!

There may come lunchtime

When you have too much homework

Then sangers are a girl’s best friend.

Another lunchtime

Your pre-packed hardboiled egg turns

Out to be raw

So munch a sanger, then one more!

We all like French fries

At least on the side,

But soggy is their ignominious end…

Stolen from a share plate

Don’t get mad with your mate,

Remember sangers are a girl’s best friend!

Sangers!

Are a!

Girl’s!

Best!

Friend!

[j216]

mouldier raffish by Jared Haer Tempests Unresistedness Study #design #instagood #GIMP #digitalart #illustration #me

[gold-overseer]

A donut that’s even mouldier than the burger.

Jameson’s taking a little stroll in town.

Pleasant little stroll for the boy tehe, but not for long! There’s some rummaging up an alleyway.

[rubbishwalks]

#LitterWatch2017: Week 39

Leaves are changing colour, nights are getting longer, and there’s a chill in the air. Meanwhile, the litter continues to be more or less unchanged from week to week. The main differences I’ve noticed this week are that the McDonald’s cup, paper takeaway container, and “biodegradable” balloon continue to get mouldier, while the yellow tobacco pouch and Lucozade bottle are finally showing some signs of fading. At the rate I’m going, I fully expect most of the litter to still be with me by the time I retire.

[marniexoxo-blog]

artist statement

My work focused on the question of rebellion, My work started out with an investigation into relational aesthetics and how it is a rebellious thing to do in the art world when considering the extreme end like ‘Rirkirt Tiravanija’ where he makes Thai food for his audience and that is his work. There was a discussion in week 2 in class where people were trying to define ‘what is art’ and it was agreed by all in the class that instagram pictures of food are not art, so I began with my experimentation of rebelling against this assumption and making a simple aesthetic image of food to be considered art.

After my poster I was unsure of my direction so I started to research food photography, so i started at the linear beginnings of food as a subject in art ‘Michelangelo Merisi Da Caravaggio’s work where he paints food and he paints it realistically. In further research the common theme for food as a subject in art at that time (1800’s) was to toy with light and position to make the food look as realistic as possible, including any bombs and bruises that the food had.  

After going through a time line of food I came to artists such as karsten wagner who replace objects in famous art works with food, she does this so perfectly that the food she chooses doesn’t even look like food. Which is often the case in modern food photography. Food in advertising is rarely even food, you see a burger and often what makes up the burger is airbrushing techniques good lighting and non-food materials, rarely a bowl of ice-cream is even that, often its mashed potato because it looked more like ice-cream than ice cream in pictures.

So I started to take photographs of a bowl of grapes that was in my kitchen, playing with light and the position of the grapes, but each day the grapes grew mouldier and looked less appealing. Referring back to Michelangelo Merisi Da Caravaggio’s what is more natural and realistic about food than the process of the food moulding. It’s the most realistic thing that happens. The process because of technology in farming and food preservation was taking longer than expected so i had to store the grapes in a warm light place and of a night would heat the grapes with a hair dryer to encourage the mould to grow faster. I liked the idea of my work being of high value because it assimilated with the critique of food photography, looking natural but also rebelling, as my would can’t be permanent and therefore loses its value the more it gains

In the end I was left with a solid documentation of how the grapes moulded and I played with the photographs. In reference to the work “error food landscape (1984) I was playing with the images of the grapes to make collages and landscapes.

I then took the original ‘perfect’ image of the grapes and replaced only the grapes with a collage that I made of the old mouldy ones, to merge the two concepts of ‘realistic’ and computer manipulated food.  So after further experimentation of collage with the grapes i was left with this.

My work explored the history of food photography and food being a subject in art but also rebels against the common theme of it being ‘realistic’ as the food in the famous works never truly was realistic, its only visually appeared to be.  playing with light and materials to make a food appear natural is the ultimate success, but my work is itself and its own process in the most natural form of food moulding. So as my documentations grow more realistic the value of my work decreases as its doesn’t appear to be a perfect grape. In turn my work is the rebellious relationship between reality and hyper-reality and the present and past

[readbookywooks]

‘I knew it!’ Elinor almost forgot to keep her voice down. ‘He just wants to save his own skin. That’s why he’s helping us! He doesn’t have a guilty conscience, oh no. Why should he?’ ‘I don’t care why he’s helping us, Elinor,’ Mo interrupted her impatiently. ‘We have to get away from here, that’s what matters. But we’re going to take someone else with us too.’ ‘Someone else? Who?’ Dustfinger looked at him uneasily. ‘The boy. The one I condemned yesterday to the same fate as you,’ replied Mo, making his way past Dustfinger and out of the door. ‘Basta said he’s next door to us, and a lock is no obstacle to your clever fingers.’ ‘I burned those clever fingers today!’ muttered Dustfinger angrily. ‘Still, just as you please. Your soft heart will be the ruin of us yet.’ When Dustfinger knocked on the door bearing the number 5 a faint rustling could be heard on the other side of it. ‘Seems like they were going to let him live,’ he whispered as he got to work on the lock. ‘They put people condemned to death in the crypt under the church. Ever since I told Basta for a joke that a White Lady haunts the stone coffins down there, he turns white as a sheet whenever Capricorn sends him into the crypt.’ He chuckled quietly at the memory, like a schoolboy who’s just played a particularly good practical joke. Meggie looked across at the church. ‘Do they often condemn people to death?’ she asked quietly. Dustfinger shrugged. ‘Not as often as they used to. But it does happen.’ ‘Stop telling her such stories!’ whispered Mo. He and Elinor never took their eyes off the church tower. The sentry was posted high up on the wall beside the belfry. It made Meggie dizzy just to look up there. ‘Those are no stories, Silvertongue, it’s the truth! Don’t you recognise the truth when you meet it any more? The truth’s not pretty, of course. No one likes to look it in the face.’ Dustfinger stepped back from the door and bowed. ‘After you. I’ve picked the lock, you can fetch him out.’ Even with his burnt fingers it hadn’t taken him long. ‘You go in,’ Mo whispered to Meggie. ‘He’ll be less afraid of you.’ It was pitch dark on the other side of the door, but Meggie heard a rustle as she stepped into the room, as if an animal were moving somewhere in the straw. Dustfinger put his arm through the doorway and handed her a torch. When Meggie switched it on, the beam of light fell on the boy’s dark face. The straw they had given him seemed even mouldier than the pile on which Meggie had slept, but the boy looked as if he hadn’t closed his eyes since Flatnose had locked him in anyway. His arms were tightly clasped round his legs, as if they were all he could rely on. Perhaps he was still waiting for his nightmare to end. ‘Come with us!’ whispered Meggie, reaching out a hand to him. ‘We want to help you! We’ll take you away from here!’ He didn’t move, just stared at her, his eyes narrow with distrust. ‘Hurry up, Meggie!’ breathed Mo through the door. The boy glanced at him and retreated until his back was right up against the wall. ‘Please!’ whispered Meggie. ‘You must come! The people here will do bad things to you.’ He was still looking at her. Then he stood up, cautiously, never taking his eyes off her. He was taller than she was by almost a hand’s breadth. Suddenly, he leaped forward, making for the open door. He pushed Meggie aside so roughly that she fell over, but he couldn’t get past Mo. ‘Here, take it easy!’ Mo said under his breath. ‘We really do want to help you, but you must do as we say, understand?’ The boy glared at him with dislike. ‘You’re all devils!’ he whispered. ‘Devils or demons!’ So he did understand their language, and why not? His own story was told in every language in the world. Meggie got up and rubbed her knee. She must have grazed it on the stone floor. ‘If you want to see some real devils then all you have to do is stay here!’ she hissed at the boy as she pushed her way past him. He flinched as if she were a witch. Mo drew the boy to his side. ‘See that man on watch up there?’ he whispered, pointing to the church tower. ‘If he sees us they’ll kill us.’ The boy looked up at the man on guard. Dustfinger went over to him. ‘Hurry up, will you?’ he said quietly. ‘If the lad doesn’t want to go with us then he can just stay here. And the rest of you take your shoes off,’ he added, glancing at the boy’s bare feet, ‘or you’ll make more noise than a flock of goats.’ Elinor grumbled something in a cross voice, but she obeyed, and the boy did follow them, if hesitantly. Dustfinger hurried on ahead as if trying to outstrip his own shadow. The alley down which he led them sloped so steeply that Meggie kept stumbling, and every time Elinor stubbed her toes on the bumpy cobblestones she uttered a quiet curse. It was dark between the close-set houses. Masonry arches stretched from one side of the street to the other, as if to prevent the walls from collapsing. The rusty street lights cast ghostly shadows. Every noise sounded threatening, every cat scurrying out of a doorway made Meggie jump. But Capricorn’s village was asleep. They passed only one guard, leaning on the wall in a side street and smoking. Two tom cats were fighting somewhere on the rooftops, and the guard bent to pick up a stone to throw at them. Dustfinger took advantage of the moment. Meggie was very glad he had made them take off their shoes. They slipped soundlessly past the guard whose back was still turned, but Meggie dared not breathe again until they were round the next corner. Once again, she noticed the many empty houses, the blank windows, the dilapidated doors. What had wrecked these homes? Just the course of time? Had the people who once lived here run away from Capricorn, or was the village already abandoned before he and his men took up residence? Hadn’t Dustfinger said something like that? He had stopped. He raised his hand in a warning gesture, and put a finger to his lips. They had reached the outskirts of the village. Only the car park still lay ahead. Two street lights illuminated the surface of the cracked asphalt, and a tall wire-netting fence rose to their left. ‘The arena for Capricorn’s ceremonies and festivities is on the other side of that fence,’ whispered Dustfinger. ‘I suppose the village children once played football there, but these days it’s the scene of Capricorn’s diabolical celebrations: bonfires, brandy, a few shots fired into the air, fireworks, blackened faces – that’s their idea of fun.’ They put their shoes on before following Dustfinger into the car park. Meggie kept looking at the wire fence. Diabolical celebrations. She could almost see the bonfires, the blackened faces … ‘Come on, Meggie!’ urged Mo, leading her on. The sound of rushing water could be heard somewhere in the darkness, and Meggie remembered the bridge they had crossed on the way here. Suppose a guard was stationed there this time? There were several cars in the car park, including Elinor’s, which was parked a little way from the others. They all kept looking around anxiously as they ran towards it. Behind them the church tower rose high above the rooftops, and there was nothing now to shield them from the sentry’s eyes. Meggie couldn’t see him at this distance, but she was sure he was still there. From such a height they must look like black beetles crawling over a table. Did he have a pair of binoculars?

[jefferythepetmould]

He is getting mouldier by the day! I will try to keep you posted.

[moe-mozzarella]

mouldier

“mould” is so much moldier than just “mold”