#tableleg

[viperwhispered]

So it's starting to look like when I've been tagging people in posts, only the first 5 mentions will show up as a notification? At least if I've not fiddled with the post afterwards, which maybe helps?

Which, come on tumblr, your own documentation says you can do up to 50 mentions in a post, what's this nonsense all about.

I might try doing the mentions in the replies rather than in the post itself in the future, so that I can do them one by one or in smaller chunks without reblogs and other fiddly things, but sheesh so annoying.

(If you think you've missed something, #ner writes has my stuff.)

[joearf]

2023.06.10: Chair, Table and People Legs - Greenwich, CT

[tairneanaich]

Are you all Victorian Gentlemen

It’s 2:00am and I have finally finished the shawl that I have been working on to wear to Easter breakfast. Which is at 10:00am.

[pushpa-exports]

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[hrsports1]

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[brown-forking-weed]

A magician whose gimmick is that he points at some mundane object, like an old screw sitting on a windowsill, a rusty pipe on the exterior of a building, or the felt padding on the bottom of a tableleg, and the trick is that he forces you to focus your attention on something that you wouldn't have otherwise given consideration to

[hollownest-whore]

I see opportunity for fic art by great artist— I trip over a tableleg searching for a good scene!

My side blog is basilbellona, and this is from chapter 17 (technically 16 minus the prologue) of "Soul of God, Form of Moth" during Xero's point of view. For context, he's trying to get into the Spire for a meeting during a ball and he's a wanted criminal. He doesn't have his helmet on either, so I'll attach a sketch of him like that below the excerpt!

The great sentries’ gazes passed over him like a cold wave that the outlaw had to will himself not to duck under. The bristly hairs on his legs pressed uncomfortably into his boots. He would not turn his eyes toward them. No matter how much his body prickled at the size of their gleaming greatnails, almost as large as he was tall. They could not think he was doing anything but going where he was allowed. He would not speed up. Do not speed up. Don’t speed up––

He crossed the threshold. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. Five seconds. Ten seconds. Only then did he let out a quiet exhale. But still, the bristles wouldn’t lie flat. 

The wait in line to get in past the lobby was insanely long, as to be expected for such a big social ball. Xero tried to blend in as best he could between the much fancier, gem-decked guests, staring idly at the huge columns and metalcraft embellishing the floor. A simple dark cloak was fairly innocuous, as many others were wearing ones of their own, so even if his looked plain, it didn’t take long for the gazes to start slipping past him. The hardest part was––

“Excuse me,”

‘FUCK.’

Xero stopped midstep and turned to the speaker–– a young, cavern-nester usher in a bowtie. He raised his brows, too surprised to find his voice and the young beetle pointed to a hole-punch claw in her other hand. “Do you have a ticket?”

He spent a good, lengthy moment processing the question.

“Sir––”

“Ah, no I don’t.” he finally laughed, raising his voice to a lilting pitch. “I thought I could just walk in. It is a public ball, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, but you’ll need a ticket for entry.” The usher nodded toward a stand at the opposite of the lobby. “You can purchase one there and wait back in line.”

“Ah. So that’s what that stand is for,” he chuckled. The usher didn’t laugh.

“Couldn’t I just skip the line? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

“I’m just following the rules, sir.”

Xero sighed, “Okay,” and stepped out of the door-nearing line to purchase a ridiculously overpriced ticket. 

(He's got a lil half mask)

Tickets pleeeaseeee ^w^

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[aresmarked]

ave thinks a shizumafu armwrestle would break a tableleg so, headcanon accepted

[roll-a-troll]

Your name is Maxlol Maalin, Sai. You use ja/jad/jadu pronouns, and your blood runs Blue; Scorgo is your sign. You're a Bard, for reasons not yet obvious. You are 33 sweeps old, and you've an interest in surfing, and dabble in troll shooting- At least, when the mood allows. You were brought up by your aggravating lusus, salamanderlusa, and you have never heard of your ancestor, The Optional. If forced to describe your sexuality, you would say Fond of Men, and leave it at that.. You've been training very hard at the tableleg, it's gonna pay off any day now. You use the handle terrificConundrum on snapcut. When you type, you use 2 to replace s, it's fun. via roll-a-troll https://ift.tt/W8phP50, do as you please

[house-of-chairs]

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[pushpa-exports]

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[halforc-mercenary]

The overthrown candle rolled over the floor, the flame dancing small in the sudden movement and almost died out so it only flicked here there over the shimmering,oiled clayfloor.

Over the other demonstratively taking in more space on the bench Mar managed to hold herself back from rolling her eyes, but she could not hold back the long, tiered sigh leaving from between her thick tusks and her freckled ears automatically pinning back flat against the sides of her head as if she was an irritated cat. Automatically she clenched her hand tighter around the spear, huffing in annoyance as she shoved her lowers jaws forward. "It would be rather bad if my eyes were not kept to myself, considering they would roll over the floor useless if they didn't. Your worry about the state of my eyes touches my heart, though.",the woman said as untouched, ungentle and unsoft as a ironcladded fist to the Guts would be.

The overthrown candle rolled over the floor, the flame dancing small in the sudden movement and almost died out so it only flicked here there over the shimmering,oiled clayfloor. There had not many people sat down, most of the visitors in the tent had joiend the dancers so most eyes either were on the dancers or on companions. Accordingly the candle rolled unnoticed past tablelegs and feet with teh small flame dancing as wildly as the dancers in the middle of the tent.

"Too Bad it is not a skillissue, but a question of areal costums. Not that that could be understood by someone apparently as silken as you, young Sir. Not your fault. Enjoy your ignorance as long as it lasts, I for one do not wish you to change that about you. Sometimes ignorance is bliss.", there was no malice in Mars voice, in fact it sounded almost- almost!- gentle: She was not stupid enough to think that the other Halforc had an easy life, but there was a strange relief, a unfitting gladness, a improper spark of happieness in her chest over the fact that the man had no visible facial scars and that he seemed to have been save enough in is life that he did not needed to ear for his neck by the slightest mistake. A confused frown drew a long line as deep as a scar between her thick eyebrows and irritated Mar showed this strange ease to the side to be stictly ignored: that was nothing of her concern. That was nothing she should think about.

The overthrown candle rolled over the floor, the flame dancing small in the sudden movement and almost died out so it only flicked here there over the shimmering,oiled clayfloor. There had not many people sat down, most of the visitors in the tent had joiend the dancers so most eyes either were on the dancers or on companions. Accordingly the candle rolled unnoticed past tablelegs and feet with teh small flame dancing as wildly as the dancers in the middle of the tent. Then the candle came to a stop by the tentwall. And the candlelight, now nolonger swirled around by movement burned brighter.

One of her ears flicked up curiously and while her eyes were still strictly following the girl who happily swirled around on the round dancefloor like a wisp over a round pond, Mars thick eyebrows wandered to far up her eyebrows that they almost disappeared in her thick head of hair: "...Baldurs Gate? That sure has me jealouse.", She said and meant every word: A few members of her century had themself be hired as bodyguards to merchants in the harbourcity and while working off their military service they lived as securely as fat cats by the warm oven: "You strayed far away from your sweet home, young Sir. That explains a lot about you, no further questions, beside wondering why you left that save nest of yours to babble at me?"

The overthrown candle rolled over the floor, the flame dancing small in the sudden movement and almost died out so it only flicked here there over the shimmering,oiled clayfloor. There had not many people sat down, most of the visitors in the tent had joiend the dancers so most eyes either were on the dancers or on companions. Accordingly the candle rolled unnoticed past tablelegs and feet with teh small flame dancing as wildly as the dancers in the middle of the tent. Then the candle came to a stop by the tentwall. And the candlelight, now nolonger swirled around by movement burned brighter. This was the moment when burning drops of wax hit the oiled clayfloor, leaving small flames on the floor that started to eat on the side of the tent. [ @elkenbulwark ]

@halforc-mercenary cont.

Another town to traverse through simply meant more leg work for him once the steps spent on keeping his brother in line of sight were also accounted for. Not to mention all the extra attempts the wayfaring wizard threw in by way of attempting to shake Birvor off his trail to do gods knew what. That was his agitated excuse to their cleric in response as to why he felt the need to keep his overbearing antics up after she made gesture to where Ren stood obliviously in the foyer of a nearby shop, thumbing through books like the actual nerd he was. Damn her- she even quirked a brow at him like he'd grown another head. Clearly the cleric didn't know what youth cut loose were capable of getting themselves into, especially in his brother's case when the lad hadn't been let outside but maybe a couple times of the year, and no farther than the gate of their courtyard. Which for a high city home was only about a few hundred square feet out before the street. Still, if anything Birvor thought he was being more than lenient these days seeing as the tether between them was now long enough to not alert him as he stood on the street's edge and waited for his brother to finish his shopping trip while simultaneously making anyone else inside the shop unfortunate enough to peer out the smudged window uncomfortable with his mean mugging.

Although shopping trips were becoming easier to deal with, taverns were still iffy to him. Why yes, he'd absolutely prefer to spend the evening practically bowling his brother over from behind just to ensure there wouldn't be room for any wandering rogues with a scent of lost rich boy in their noses to slide a dagger between them. Never mind they already had a rogue following them much to Birvor's ire. To make matters worse, Ren had been utterly clueless when he'd informed the rogue in their party that they were from the high city in Baldur's Gate and on their way back. For all the books Ren read, it seemed he didn't learn anything except that strangers with attractive faces always had the best intentions at heart. The half-orc could gag about it, he really could-

After some firm words, a shove or two, and the promise the cleric would keep an eye out while she and Ren grabbed refreshments, Birvor had little more to say on the matter when a line of dancers darted between the lot of them, cutting him off from the rest of the party who seemed none the wiser save for Ren who turned to give him a little wave and a smug look before joining the rest of the crew at the table-top bar further up along the tavern tent's outskirts. He had half a mind to stampede after them, but he supposed he could save the effort until it was really needed. The dancers that were in his way would be spared ...for now.

Instead, he plopped back onto a bench surrounded by some crates and watched the other side of the tent where his party was, tusks grinding into his bottom lip in agitation. Of course they were all over there laughing...enjoying themselves without him. Better to just leave it at that, he thought pettily, hoping the dancers would pull any of them in to their undertow and leave them trapped in the throes of liquid-courage fueled movement. Maybe then they wouldn't be so keen to wander off. He almost smiled at the thought, though halfway through the curling of lips, he caught sight of the stranger next to him and froze.

A shade of green in their skin and the large curve of their tusks caused something in his heart to clench and hike halfway up his throat. For a moment, he was back in a dark hallway under the looming stature of an orc who regarded him with the same indifference of a dog faced with a single piece of kibble. He let out a shaky breath and shook his head to rouse his sensibilities. No-...not an orc. Just another half-orc like him? Though he'd yet to see another in their travels so far. Perhaps his staring had alarmed her, because before he knew it- she was wheeling round to address him. His eyes cut heavily to the side to avoid looking like he'd been observing her for the short amount of time he had been, though he tilts his face in to catch the end of her grumblings just in time for their message to sour his expression. "Oi- what's that 'en? Ever think...if your eyes got a job to do, ya ought... oh, I dunno-" He clicked his teeth, elbow propped upon his thigh now popping up his jaw that he ground furiously in to the speckled belly of his palm. "-keepin'em to yerself??" Because he hadn't been staring a bit too long to warrant drawing her suspicions in, no- definitely not.

Noting the sharp end of her spear in the candle light, he bristled figuring she was likely the only person in the tent he had to worry about should things go south any time soon. Though his immediate response to being told to fuck off in basic terms was to cross his arms and spread his legs a little wider to take up more space on the bench. Send a little message her way that he was not about to be bullied off the best spot in the tent to keep an eye on the goings on. Granted, the smooth, scarless state of his face was not exactly a deterrent in that regard.

"Babysittin' with a twist, izzit? Can't say I can relate 'cause I never sucked so much eggs at it to warrant a choppin' block. Hells, guess Baldur's Gate is a lot more civilized than these parts after all." He added, not noticing how his agitated shifting had bumped a lit candle nearby which toppled off the bench and rolled off someplace below still burning.

[steelamanfurniture]

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[wislander]

Finished shaping the legs for the folding table top. Tomorrow I move on to finishing them. #wood #woodworking #dyiproject #project #handmade #design #pine #gluing #creating #tabletop #tableleg (at Monticello, Illinois)

[solyankapal]

excuse the hay mess but this video is so funny to me