#venter

[ask-the-jester-buds]

Venter your hair looks so much fluffier and more whimsical! is Pyggy using a different product on you?

O... He has, Actually ...O

O... Thank yOu fOr nOticing ...O

O... It's a new cOnditiOner we are trying ...O

O... Mane 'n Tail ...O

O... Very pOpular on IndigO blOOds ...O

[awakeningiwnd]

Vulpera warrior

Revendreth's whole strength is in his strike!   Awesome vulpera belongs to summugoni

[hvacparts09]

York S1-324-34558-000 Venter with Limiter & Gasket 115V 3400RPM | PartsHnC

The York S1-324-34558-000 Venter With Limit & Gasket is a pre-assembled unit designed for efficient and safe ventilation in HVAC systems. It combines three key components: Venter Motor: This motor is the workhorse, operating on a standard voltage of 115 volts and 60Hz frequency. It spins at a high speed of 3400 RPM (Revolutions Per Minute) to effectively move air within the HVAC system. Limit Switch: This safety feature acts as a failsafe. It monitors the motor's temperature and automatically shuts it off if it gets too hot, preventing potential damage. Gasket: The gasket creates a tight seal between the vent and the ductwork. This minimizes air leaks and ensures optimal airflow performance throughout the system. Benefits: Efficient Ventilation: The high-speed motor and proper sealing with the gasket work together to efficiently remove unwanted fumes and moisture from the HVAC system. Safe Operation: The limit switch provides peace of mind by automatically shutting down the motor in case of overheating. Easy Installation: The pre-assembled design with all the necessary components simplifies installation within the HVAC unit. Compact Design: Weighing approximately 7.28 lbs, the unit is lightweight and easy to handle during installation. This York Venter With Limit & Gasket assembly is commonly used in various HVAC equipment including furnaces, air handlers, and ventilation units.

https://www.partshnc.com/115v-3400rpm-venter-wlimgskt

[gothiccharmschool]

In anticipation of seeing Beetlejuice Beetlejuice tomorrow, here are some assorted photos when I decided to look like my favorite freelance bio-exorcist.

[oldschoolfrp]

Dropships and Jumpships: you can't leave home without 'em; Steve Venters' cover art from this 1988 Battletech supplement by FASA, cropped and rotated 90 degrees for this ad in Dragon 130, February 1988

[mtg-cards-hourly]

Psychic Frog

Some frogs poison the body. Some frogs poison the mind.

Artist: Pete Venters TCG Player Link Scryfall Link EDHREC Link

[cyphyree]

I don't think Giorno harbored any grudge against Fugo for staying at the docks tbh.

Bucciarati wanted to leave all of them there in the first place, until Giorno convinced him to explain the situation so that *maybe* the others would join them. At worst, Giorno might've been disappointed after Fugo's "i super respect you now" speech, but I don't think anyone in that boat was angry at a 15 year old for wanting to not die.

By the way, Fugo's "You have my respect" speech from Pompeii? It's echoed by Giorno when Narancia joined the boat.

Giorno didn't have to risk himself to save Fugo in Pompeii, yet was determined to against all odds anyway. And now Narancia, who's Reasonably Very Scared, decided to risk his life as well. Like Fugo did, Giorno respects the hell out of Narancia's resolve.

Fugo wouldn't have blamed Giorno for running. I don't think Giorno would blame Fugo or Narancia for running either.

Not everyone can go out on a limb. Giorno understood this, which was why he put himself in danger in front of everyone else. He stayed in Pompeii to get them all out alive, he volunteered only himself to scout Capri, he sacrificed arm and limb literally constantly. Giorno understands he can't control the choices of others, so he takes initiative himself instead and welcomes those who join him.

We contrast him with Diavolo, someone who threw people under the bus in front of him constantly. People who chose otherwise were traitors and earned his wrath. Even Doppio, who he shared a body with, wasn't safe from being exploited. I think Araki was trying to show that Diavolo's willingness to sacrifice others ultimately harms him. Giorno's willingness to sacrifice himself for others aids him-- it's a paradox, and Giorno and Diavolo are on opposite ends of it.

It plays again into the theme of fate in Part 5. Diavolo claims to be the king of fate, that all are destined to bend to him. Giorno respects the choices of others, and takes on the responsibilities of his ambitions himself. He admires those who willingly choose the hard road of good, and yet I believe he is compassionate towards those who do not as long as they don't harm.

This is why Giorno is so ruthless towards his enemies. No one can escape fate. And yet no one is fated to make any one choice. No one is fated to do good or evil. And if someone so willfully chooses to perpetuate harm, then Giorno has nothing but contempt for them. "I was fated to be this way" was never an excuse.

[trek-tracks]

Sulu: Did you know that Dr. McCoy won the tournament for the being who complains the most while travelling through space?

Scotty: Really?

Sulu: Yeah, he's captain of the Starship Venter Prize.

[alackofghosts]

last days of summer

[detroitlib]

View of marching band and spectators at a Memorial Day celebration in Azalia, Michigan. Man in foreground holds an American flag; church in background. Printed on front: "Memorial Day. Azalia, Mich." Printed on back: "A.R. Van De Venter, Dundee, Mich."

Burton Historical Collection, Detroit Public Library

[ask-the-jester-buds]

Seeing venter and pygmlo's new sprites makes me so happy... they look so beautiful together 🥺 (ask-these-fantrolls)

[They are the happiest creepy couple around. Venter is happy to see you too, Pygmlo not so much, but you know Pygmlo.] @ask-these-fantrolls

[netherworldpost]

Hello (pours a glass of root beer) I am feeling things. And writing this post in a method I used to use frequently about

(vague gesture)

Many years ago. Moving on.

Let’s talk about @gothiccharmschool . Do you know about Jillian?

Do you know Jillian?

(sotto voce) If so you are a damn lucky person who has had an illuminating force in your life.

I first stumbled into the orbit of Jillian Venters maybe a decade ago or longer. It’s been an experience, these years, and the number doesn’t matter. The point I want to make is Jillian Venters has helped me and countless others through so much and asked for absolutely nothing in return.

I have asked her so many questions at random times in varying states, personal and professional, and lately I have been going through archives to prepare for larger projects. So many memories.

(why are larger projects always so dependent on archives IT TAKES SO MUCH FEEELING TO GO THROUGH THEM)

And have come across old posts of Jillian offering advice — to myself, to young goths younger than myself, to everyone and anyone with Questions and Confusion and Needing A Map to place they don’t know if it actually exists but by the moon they pray it does because only there can ever be found

Answers.

Here is a convenient archive of hers on her website.

Here is her full post and here is the link

And here is the Mamushka!

Jillian Venters: you are moonlight lace and midnight grace and you so often remind vampires to use napkins (they have blood on their face). Of all the wonders in this world, you are of royal, vampiric, witchcraft designation of the highest, pinkest and blackest, fluffiest throne.

May your tomorrows be better than todays.

You deserve every pleasant thing and joy in this world.

Cheers my fellows.

Tonight we toast Jillian Venters of Gothic Charm School.

[starwarsanthropology]

Heyyy~

Can I ask for OrdoMaze with 43? :3

The stark, neon lighting of the Coursucant night-cycle is an abrupt shift from the muted golden lights in the bar as Ordo slips out to follow after Maze, a few minutes after he leaves. Just enough lag between exits to keep Kal’buir and the RCs off of them. 

He tracks Maze via his comm’s location tag a few blocks over to a quiet, back alley speeder platform about ten feet above street level. Maze is sitting on the edge of it, leaning on crossed arms against the low bumper rail. 

“Null.” He says, looking over Ordo appraisingly.

“Alpha,” Ordo replies, and then clambers up a drainage pipe to join him.

Maze snorts gently when a screw pings out of the wall, too much weight put on the bracket holding the pipe secure, and Ordo glares at him as he grabs the edge of the balcony to haul himself up and over. The duracrete has a slightly tacky, powdery feel, a decade’s worth of emissions building up into sediment that feels somehow grimier than actual dirt on Ordo’s bare palms. He tries to wipe them off on his kama once he’s seated next to Maze, and then scowls and pulls out a wipe when that doesn’t work.

Maze just watches him, quiet, and then once he stuffs the wipe back into a belt pouch to throw out later, he leans his warm bulk against Ordo’s side. Coruscant doesn’t have much in the way of natural weather patterns, as climate-controlled as it is, but this close to a major skyroad, the vehicles send strong, cutting winds whistling through the buildings. In his armor, Maze feels like a bulwark. Stable, safe. Somewhere nice to hunker down until he has to move on to the next objective.

“So, Besany?” Maze asks, and Ordo checks him lightly with his shoulder. “She’s a good one.”

“Mm. Kal’buir is very eager about us.” Ordo says. “He doesn’t realize that she’s not romantically interested in men.”

Maze laughs, startled. “He’s not very good with people, is he?”

“He’s great with them when it matters.”

“He thinks Besany is flirting with you instead of trying to adopt you like you’re a feral tooka she found dropping presents on her doorstep.” 

Ordo doesn’t have anything else to say, and appearantly neither does Maze, so they spend a long while simply leaning against each other and watching the debris of a city of trillions get buffeted around in the breeze.

“Maze?” Ordo says, eventually. “How good are you for getting read into something confidential? Off the record.”

Maze looks him over, considering. “Is breaking opsec going to compromise anything?”

“No. Only reputations.”

Maze perks up at that. He’s such a gossip, really. All the Alphas are; nosy bastards to their cores, trained to keep track of all their subordinates like mother hens. 

“Read me in, Ord’ika.” He says, and Ordo is almost ashamed when he opens his mouth and the words spill out.

“General Tur-makan got herself pregnant.”

“No.” Maze gasps, scandalized. 

“Mmhm. Kal’buir is furious about it. Maybe would have killed her if it wasn’t for the fact she’s carrying.” 

“Who’s the father?”

Ordo closes his eyes and takes a deep, centering breath. “Darman.”

“Does he know?”

“No.”

“Don’t think so.”

“That’s karked.” Maze says, awed. 

“Yeah. Kal’buir is shipping her off to Quiilura to wait it out.” Ordo shuffles closer to Maze, who rocks just enough to bump their shoulders before leaning back into him.

“You should tell Dar. Not when it could compromise him, but it’s his to know.”

“Kal’buir is handling it.”

“Skirata is a poor judge of when to share intel. There’s a reason he’s only a sergeant.”

Ordo, suddenly furious, both at Maze for throwing that in his face, and himself, for taking foolish initiative to confide in him, snarls and snaps his fist into Maze’s face. “That’s my father.”

Maze groans from his position knocked flat on his back on the speeder platform, and then snaps upright to slam his forehead right into Ordo’s nose.

Ordo makes a furious, inarticulate noise, hand flying to his face, and Maze just looks him in the eye, steady and calm and ready to drop everything for a fight.

“I’m right. I’m smarter than him. You’re smarter than him. We’re bred to be.”

The bridge of Ordo’s nose aches fiercely, and his nose is gushing after so many strikes to the face in short succession. He pinches it to slow the flow and leans forwards, breathing through his mouth and watching Maze out the corner of his eye. Maze’s nose is bleeding, too, but it’s just a single fat drop slowly traveling down his lip. It shimmers in the light as his breath makes it quiver; Maze’s nose wrinkles up at the ticklish sensation and he wipes it with a knuckle. Ordo is caught by the sight of blood smeared on his lover’s hands and face, almost invisible in the lighting except for how it leaves a damp, shiny smear over his skin. He wants to lick it off. He wants there to be more. He wants, he wants. He doesn’t know what he wants, but it sharpens his teeth and sends off a round of howling hunger in his gut.

He tamps down the feeling.

“I’ll tell Dar, if Kal’buir takes too long.” He concedes, slightly nasal through his bloody nose, and Maze smiles at him, irritated expression melting into something warm and fond. Ordo wants to choke him.

“Good boy, Ord’ika,” Maze says, and instead of choking him, it’s Ordo who chokes on his outrage as Maze tilts up his chin and kisses him, ignoring the blood dripping down his face and into their mouths. He bites him in retaliation, hard enough to split his lip and add Maze’s blood to his between them, and Maze’s hand grips his face and squeezes until he opens his mouth and keeps it open, maintaining a careful threat of pressure at the hinge of his jaw as Maze kisses him stupid.

Ordo is gasping and wheezing by the time Maze pulls away, his nose whistling from where it's clogged with blood. He can taste it down to his lungs, the thick, metallic coating over his airways and mouth and throat. He hopes Maze can taste him in the same way, vindictive or victorious, as he catches his breath, reeling back from the intensity of it.

Mazes laughs, breathless, and Ordo snaps a sharp look to him. It just makes Maze laugh harder, and he leans forwards to cup Ordo’s face in his hands and press a kiss against his forehead. 

“You’ve got— a little—” Maze chuckles, and gestures over the lower half of his face. In the dim lighting, he can’t see color very well, but he abruptly registers the slightly darker shades and wet shine over Maze’s mouth, chin, cheeks. He’s covered in blood from their kiss.

“You, too.” Ordo tells him, and dabs lightly at his face to map the limits of the tacky smear over his lips, chin, neck. There’s a spot at his forehead, too,  where Maze had pressed another bloody kiss to his skin.

“Damn. Let’s clean up, and then I’ll take you back to bed?”

“Only if I get to bloody you up again.” Ordo says, and holds his hand out for a wipe.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. It looks good on you.”

[hvadfandendotjpeg]

Danske reaktionsbilleder, bind 1...?

[gothiccharmschool]

Because I've been thinking of my younger self: Flashback Friday, 1993-ish.

[oldschoolfrp]

"Built from a thousand kilometers of flesh and steel, it writhes in the passions of those who live in it. Everyone and everything is connected here; there are no accidents. Take a walk down any street and read the writing on the wall: 'Welcome to the Sprawl, chummer. Too bad you could make it.'" (Steve Venters cover art for Shadowrun supplement Sprawl Sites, FASA, 1990)