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johnsenklausen33 · 1 month

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The Ultimate Guide to Glass Painting Products: From Waterproof to Heat Resistant

Welcome to the colorful world of glass painting! Whether you're an experienced artist or a newbie looking to explore a new creative avenue, understanding the range of glass painting products available is essential to achieving stunning results. From waterproof options to heat-resistant formulas, the choices can seem overwhelming at first glance. This comprehensive guide aims to demystify the realm of glass paints, equipping you with the knowledge to select the right products for your projects.

Glass painting opens up a realm of possibilities, allowing you to transform ordinary glass surfaces into works of art. Whether you're adding intricate designs to vases, creating faux stained glass effects on windows, or revamping plain glassware, the key lies in choosing the appropriate paint. With a plethora of options such as transparent glass paint, quality stained glass paint, waterproof formulations, and heat-resistant varieties, the tools at your disposal are as diverse as your creative visions. Join Commercial drying equipment for textiles as we delve into the world of glass painting products, uncovering the best solutions to bring your artistic ideas to life.

Types of Glass Paint Finishes

When it comes to glass painting products, there is a wide variety of finishes to choose from. One popular option is transparent glass paint, which allows light to pass through the painted surface, creating a beautiful effect. This type of finish is ideal for creating delicate and intricate designs on glass objects such as vases, windows, or ornaments.

For those looking for a more vibrant and colorful finish, stained glass paint is a great choice. This type of paint is specially formulated to mimic the look of traditional stained glass, with rich and bold colors that can add a touch of elegance to any glass surface. Stained glass paints are available in a wide range of hues, making it easy to find the perfect shades for your project.

If durability is a top priority, then waterproof and heat-resistant glass paints are the way to go. These paints are specially formulated to withstand exposure to water and high temperatures, making them perfect for outdoor projects or items that will come into contact with heat. With permanent waterproof and heat-resistant glass paint options available, you can ensure that your painted designs will last for years to come.

Factors to Consider When Choosing Glass Paint

First and foremost, consider the intended use of the glass paint. Are you painting decorative items, windows, or glassware? Different types of glass paints are formulated for specific purposes, so it is essential to choose one that suits your project best.

Secondly, take into account the desired finish and transparency of the paint. If you are looking for a transparent or translucent effect, opt for glass paints specifically designed to maintain the transparent quality of the glass. For opaque finishes or stained glass effects, choose paints that offer rich and vibrant colors.

Lastly, consider the durability and special features of the glass paint. If your project requires waterproof or heat-resistant properties, make sure to select paints that are designed to withstand such conditions. Additionally, look for paints that provide long-lasting and permanent results to ensure the longevity of your painted glass pieces.

Top Brands for Glass Painting Products

When it comes to glass painting products, it's essential to choose trusted brands that offer quality and durability. One of the top brands in this category is Pebeo, known for its wide range of glass paints that are both waterproof and heat-resistant. Their products are highly regarded by artists and crafters alike for their vibrant colors and long-lasting results.

Another reputable brand to consider is Plaid, offering a diverse selection of glass paints and painting kits that cater to both beginners and experienced artists. Plaid's range of transparent glass paint is perfect for creating stunning stained glass effects, while their waterproof and permanent options ensure your artwork stays pristine for years to come.

For those looking for top-notch glass painting products in the UK, Marabu is a go-to choice. Affordable cleaning equipment for small businesses -resistant glass paints are ideal for projects that require durability against high temperatures, making them perfect for decorative pieces that need to withstand heat exposure. With Color-match paint services with pigments 's coloured glass paints, you can let your creativity shine while ensuring professional and lasting results.

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barkerbek27 · 1 month

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Brilliantly Transformed: The Ultimate Guide to Glass Paints and Techniques

Welcome to the ultimate guide on glass paints and techniques! Whether you are a seasoned glass artist or just starting out, mastering the art of glass painting opens up a world of creativity and beauty. From creating stunning stained glass effects to adding a touch of color to glass surfaces, the right glass paints and techniques can truly transform any ordinary piece into a work of art.

When it comes to glass painting, choosing the right paint is crucial to achieving the desired effect. From transparent glass paints that allow light to shine through to quality paints that offer lasting vibrancy, the options are endless. Explore Top-rated food preparation equipment of stained glass paints, waterproof options for durability, and heat-resistant formulas for items that require a bit more resilience. Whether you're looking to create intricate designs or simply add a pop of color to your glass projects, understanding the different types of paints available is key to unleashing your creativity.

Types of Glass Paints

Glass paints come in a variety of types to suit different needs. For beginners, a glass painting kit is a great option as it typically includes everything you need to get started, such as a selection of colors and brushes. These kits are convenient for those new to glass painting and looking to experiment with different techniques.

Transparent glass paint is a popular choice for creating a stained glass effect. How to choose industrial drying equipment of paint allows light to pass through, giving a vibrant and colorful appearance to your glass artwork. It is perfect for adding intricate details and patterns to your designs while maintaining a see-through finish.

For projects that require durability, waterproof glass paint is essential. This type of paint is specially formulated to withstand exposure to moisture and humidity, making it ideal for outdoor decorative pieces or items that need to be washable. Additionally, heat-resistant glass paint is designed to withstand high temperatures, making it suitable for heat-sensitive surfaces like glassware or ovenproof dishes.

Techniques for Glass Painting

When it comes to glass painting, there are various techniques that can help you achieve stunning results. One popular technique is using stained glass paints, which allow for vibrant colors and a translucent finish. These paints can be applied directly onto glass surfaces, creating a beautiful stained glass effect that is perfect for decorative pieces.

Another technique is glass painting using a brush or sponge. With this method, you can create intricate designs and patterns on glass surfaces. By using different brush sizes and types, you can achieve various textures and effects, adding depth and dimension to your artwork. This technique is ideal for those looking to personalize glass items such as vases, jars, or windows.

For those interested in a more contemporary look, glass spray painting is a technique worth exploring. Spray paints designed specifically for use on glass offer a quick and convenient way to add color to glass surfaces. Whether you want to create an ombre effect, stencil designs, or simply cover a large area with uniform color, glass spray painting can help you achieve a modern and artistic finish.

Choosing the Right Glass Paint

When selecting glass paint, it is important to consider the desired result. Transparent glass paint is ideal for creating delicate and light-filled designs, while stained glass paint offers a more vibrant and colorful effect.

For projects requiring durability, opt for waterproof glass paint that will withstand moisture and weather conditions. Look for quality paint that is heat resistant if you anticipate exposure to high temperatures, ensuring the longevity of your artwork.

Whether you are a beginner or experienced artist, investing in a glass painting kit can provide all the essential tools and materials needed to start creating beautiful glass artworks. This kit typically includes a variety of colors, brushes, and instructions to help you unleash your creativity on glass surfaces.

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hededreyer62 · 1 month

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Revamp Your Home: Creative Ideas for Painting UPVC Windows and Exterior Doors

Welcome to a world of endless possibilities when it comes to transforming your home's exterior with a fresh coat of paint. Whether you're looking to revamp your UPVC windows or add a pop of color to your front door, the options are boundless. With How to maintain cleaning equipment of paint and a bit of creativity, you can breathe new life into your home's façade, giving it a truly personalized touch.

From classic whites and sleek blacks to vibrant greens and calming greys, the range of colors available for UPVC windows and exterior doors allows you to express your style and enhance your home's curb appeal. With the convenience of water-based paints tailored for these surfaces, the painting process becomes a breeze, providing a durable finish that withstands the test of time. Whether Top-rated pigments for color-matching paint aim to modernize your space with a contemporary look or add a traditional touch with wooden finishes, painting your UPVC windows and exterior doors opens up a realm of opportunities to reflect your personality and elevate your home's overall aesthetic.

Choosing the Right UPVC Paint

When selecting the perfect UPVC paint for your windows and doors, consider factors such as durability, color options, and ease of application. Look for a paint specifically formulated for UPVC surfaces to ensure proper adhesion and longevity.

It is essential to choose a paint that is weather-resistant and UV-stable to prevent fading and peeling over time. Opt for a high-quality UPVC paint that will withstand the elements and maintain its vibrant color for years to come.

Additionally, explore a wide range of colors available in UPVC paint to match your home's aesthetic. Whether you prefer classic white, modern black, or trendy shades like green or grey, there is a UPVC paint color to suit every style. Experiment with different hues to revamp your home's exterior with a fresh and personalized touch.

Creative Ideas for Painting Exterior Doors

When it comes to painting exterior doors, the color choice can truly transform the look of your home. Opting for a bold color like deep navy or rich burgundy can add a pop of personality to your façade. For a more classic and timeless feel, consider shades like elegant black or crisp white to complement any architectural style.

Another creative idea for painting exterior doors is to incorporate a two-tone design. Painting the door frame in a contrasting color to the door itself can create a striking visual impact. This technique adds depth and dimension to the entryway, making your door stand out as a focal point of your home's exterior.

For a modern and eye-catching look, try a metallic finish for your exterior door. Silver, gold, or copper hues can add a touch of glamour and sophistication to your entry. Metallic paints are not only visually appealing but also durable and weather-resistant, ensuring your door maintains its shine for years to come.

Tips for Painting UPVC Windows

When painting UPVC windows, it's crucial to prepare the surfaces properly before applying any paint. Start by thoroughly cleaning the windows to remove any dirt, grime, and dust. This will ensure that the paint adheres well and provides a smooth finish.

Choose a high-quality UPVC window paint specifically designed for this material. Opt for colors that complement your home's exterior and consider using primers or undercoats for better coverage and durability. It's recommended to apply multiple thin coats of paint rather than one thick coat to achieve a professional-looking result.

Additionally, consider the weather conditions before painting UPVC windows. It's best to paint during dry and mild temperatures to allow proper drying and curing of the paint. Avoid High-performance mixing equipment in extreme heat or cold as it may affect the paint application and final finish.

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fitchborre66 · 1 month

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Ultimate Guide to Glass Paints: Enhancing Your Creations with Permanence and Vibrancy

Welcome to the ultimate guide on glass paints! If you're looking to enhance your creative projects with a touch of permanence and vibrancy, then you've come to the right place. Mixing equipment for food processing opens up a world of possibilities, allowing you to transform ordinary glass surfaces into stunning works of art. Whether you're a seasoned glass artist or just starting out, understanding the wide array of glass paints available can make a significant difference in the quality and longevity of your creations. When it comes to selecting the right paint for glass, there are several key factors to consider. From Food preparation equipment for restaurants that allow light to pass through beautifully to quality stained glass paints that offer rich, vibrant colors, the options are vast. Waterproof and heat-resistant glass paints ensure that your designs remain intact and vibrant even in challenging conditions. If you're based in the UK, you can explore a range of permanent and high-quality glass paints specifically tailored to meet your creative needs. Whether you're looking to add a stained glass effect to your windows, experiment with colored glass paints, or simply find the perfect black glass paint for your project, there's something for everyone in the world of glass painting.

Types of Glass Paints

When it comes to glass painting, there is a wide variety of options to choose from. Transparent glass paint is ideal for creating vivid and vibrant designs while maintaining the glass's see-through quality. Stained glass paint, on the other hand, offers a more traditional look with its rich, opaque colors that mimic the beauty of stained glass windows.

For those looking for durability, waterproof glass paint is a must. This type of paint ensures your creations stay intact even when exposed to moisture or water. If you're working on projects that require high heat resistance, then glass paint heat resistant formulas are essential. These paints are designed to withstand elevated temperatures without compromising their vibrancy or permanence.

In the UK, there are a variety of permanent glass paints available that offer long-lasting results. Whether you're interested in creating colored glass effects or looking for specific shades like black glass paint, you can easily find a wide selection of glass paints to suit your needs.

When applying glass paint, it is important to first ensure that the glass surface is clean and free from any dust, dirt, or grease. This will help the paint adhere better and result in a more even finish. Use a mild glass cleaner or rubbing alcohol to clean the surface before starting the painting process.

To achieve a smooth and professional-looking finish, consider using thin layers of paint and building up the color gradually. This will not only help prevent drips and streaks but also ensure that the paint dries evenly. Allow each layer to dry completely before applying the next one to avoid smudging or smearing the paint.

For intricate designs or detailed work, using a fine-tip paintbrush can help you control the paint more precisely. Take your time and work slowly to avoid mistakes. If you make a mistake, don't worry – you can easily remove wet paint with a cotton swab or a damp cloth. Just be sure to clean the area thoroughly before reapplying the paint.

Benefits of Using Glass Paints

Glass paints offer a wide range of vibrant colors and finishes, allowing artists to create stunning designs on glass surfaces with ease and precision. Whether High-performance cleaning equipment for homes are a beginner or an experienced painter, glass paints provide a versatile medium for expressing your creativity and adding a touch of elegance to your artwork.

One of the key advantages of using glass paints is their durability and permanence. Once properly cured, these paints adhere strongly to the glass surface, ensuring long-lasting beauty and resistance to fading or peeling. Whether you are painting a decorative vase, glass window, or any other glass object, you can trust that your artwork will maintain its vivid colors and intricate details for years to come.

Additionally, many glass paints are formulated to be waterproof and heat-resistant, making them ideal for a variety of applications. From glassware that needs to withstand frequent washing to decorative items exposed to sunlight and high temperatures, these paints provide a reliable solution for ensuring the longevity of your creations. By using quality glass paints, you can enhance the visual appeal and functionality of your glass art while enjoying the peace of mind that comes with their enduring quality.

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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 4 months

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waking up in his bed

(cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw, mdni, marks, a bit of spit stuff, dry (wet?) humping, swallowing)

part before: hanging off König's shoulder

When I open my eyes up again, for just a moment, I don’t know where I am. My own confused image stairs back at me – right, the mirror on his ceiling! And I laugh to myself because it’s ridiculous. The whole concept is!

I stretch myself, yawning. Realising that I’m alone in the kingsize bed. I mean, it would be impossible to miss the big guy. I still feel his lingering touches, the way he held onto me as we fell asleep together. Reminders of the first time hooking up after the concert.

I’m somebody who normally can’t sleep in a tight embrace, but he was pratically latching onto me both times. Subconsciously in his sleep. Holding onto me, softly still. If it were possible for him to wrap himself around me completely, I bet he would’ve done it. His big arm resting over my torso, the forearm securely between my breasts, his hand on the side of my face. One of his legs strewn over one of mine. Almost like a human weighted blankie. And I still slept soundly.

I yawn and stretch again, until I notice a little piece of paper stuck to my arm. I peel it off and look at it.

That explains where he went off to, but it also makes him out be a liar, because I don’t believe I look anywhere near cute in the morning. Drooling into the soft pillow underneath my head. My hair standing off to the side. Probably snoring as well.

And I have to laugh as I see the little doodle in the right corner. Honestly, it’s a relief to see – considering the man’s many talents – that he isn’t good at everything. Drawing doesn’t seem to be his forte. But at the same time, this was painfully cute. The note, the doodle, everything. I giggle to myself and finally pull back the covers.

I assess the ‘damage’ while I get up: Booty hurts a little bit, probably from getting fucked into the hard wood surface of the bar. The muscles in my legs are a little tense, my shoulders and neck feel a bit stiff, and my pussy is a little bit sore (and deeply satisfied). The hickeys and the faint bitemark on my inner thighs bring a little smile to my face. It couldn’t have been clearer if he had written ‘König was here’ in waterproof sharpie on them.

I put on my shirt, still not daring to take one of his because of how it might look, and curse myself because I didn’t pack more clothes. It’s not terribly stinky or stained, but it definitely looked better yesterday. I quickly brush my teeth, my eyes darting to the shower, remnants of last night in the forefront of my mind before I go on a search for my panties.

I find them on the floor in the bar, the memories of yesterday flooding me, the forgotten cocktail still on the bar. He had to make another one, because the icecubes had already melted and the gin was warm.

I leave the cellar going up the stairs until I stand in the living room again, looking at the books I set aside yesterday.

There is another crystal tumbler on the end table, this one empty. Just one because we shared it.

The glass moving from my hand to his and back, while we were listening to music, talking. Cuddling on the couch. My legs splayed over his thighs, barely reaching all the way to the other side. His arm around my waist, his thumb painting little circles over my hip. My fingers tangled in his hair and digging into the scalp, massaging gently until he was humming quietly.

His mouth placed on the glass where mine was, just a moment before, taking another sip.

Lingering kisses, slow and sweet, turning into little sips of the drink being passed between us. Tasting him and the gin at the same time. A heady combination.

I felt myself getting sleepier and sleepier the later it got, until I yawned and almost fell asleep in his arms, then he finally got me to agree that we should head to bed.

I hear the front door open, the sound ripping me from my memories. I turn around, skipping in that direction.

König is standing in the hallway, taking off his shoes, a grocery bag in his hands. In his usual leatherjacket, shirt and… sweatpants? Casual black sweatpants. Yeah no, I totally feel normal about them. I can’t help but ogle him, because he looks like a wet dream, even in the most mundane outfits.

He sees me, his face lighting up in a grin. “No pants again, huh?”, he comments, his eyes dropping down my body.

I blush. “Uh, I can put some on, if it bothers you.”

He laughs. “Doncha dare hide that cute ass of yours.” He comes closer and leans down, dropping a kiss onto my mouth and his hand to my ass. Patting it twice, quickly and playful. “I almost didn't want to leave bed this morning...”, he whispers against my lips and deepens the kiss, for just a moment.

“I got your note.”, I say as we tumble into the kitchen.

He puts the shopping bag down on the counter. “Yeah, went to the supermarket. And I also got us some croissants from the bakery.”

“The little shop at the corner to Main Street?”, I ask.

“Yes.”, he smiles.

“Hell yeah, I love their croissants, they're the best.”, I exclaim.

“Baked goods, the only thing the french are good at.”, he comments pointedly.

“Oh man, you and the french.”, I laugh as I hop onto the kitchen counter beside the coffee maker. Watching him unpack the groceries and getting said baked goods.

He pulls one croissant out of the brown paper bag and hands it to me unceremoniously. I grab it and take a bite, the flakey dough bursting as my teeth cut through it. The little sigh that drops from my lips sounds a little too enamored, a little too enthused for just eating a croissant. He looks at me, his jaw dropping just a bit.

“What?”, I ask, still munching on the pastry dough.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head mumbling something that sounds a bit like "never thought I'd be jealous of a fucking croissant".

That makes me laugh. "Thanks for getting them, but you didn't need to get up early for that."

He shrugs. "I'm an early bird anyway out of habit, and I had to go out and buy some milk, because I forgot about that.", he explains, pulling said milk out of the grocery bag.

I look at him, a little confused.

"I drink my coffee black, so I never have any milk at home.", he adds, as if that was a given.

A grin stalks on my face. “Of course you do.”, I say pointedly.

“Now, what's that supposed to mean?”, he asks.

I tilt my head and pull my brows up, all like 'are you being serious?'. “Let's just say that I would have been way more surprised if the over 40-year-old metalhead, who has a car that looks like it's from the nineties, who still collects vinyls and CDs, who would rather drink his gin neat and who's biggest kitchen appliance is a barista coffee machine with all the knick-knacks – if he drank a latte in the morning.”

He laughs, the hearty sound making me all giddy. “Tell me how you really feel.”, he says, his eyes sparkling at me, while jokingly clasping one hand over his heart.

“Sorry.”, I say, grinning at him.

He waves it off. “Don’t be, I deserved that.” He gets some coffee beans ready, putting them through the grinder and then fitting the portafilter into the barista machine.

While the coffee drips down into the cup, he comes closer standing right in between my knees. “But, how about you, missy? Do you like a latte in the morning?” The little quirk of the corner of his mouth is telling me that this isn’t just some question about my coffee preferences. It’s one of his telltale signs.

“I do, but I feel like I'm missing the joke here.”, I say, looking up at him. Sitting on the counter, he still towers over me, more than a head taller than me.

He chuckles. “Well, ‘Latte’ is also another word for boner in German, so...” He sees the grimace I'm making and laughs some more, and I join in, while shaking my head. He steps away and repeats the process, getting another coffee ready.

"I'm starting to think that your language only has dirty innuendos and curses.", I remark, jokingly.

He grins. "That just might be my vocabulary." He pours some milk into a metal jug and froths it, adding the froth to the mug after the coffee is ready. Wincing at the shitload of milk he put in. "Here, a latte for the lady.", he says, while handing me the mug.

My eyes drop down of their own volition, as I take it from his hands. Openly staring at his crotch, where his sweatpants are clearly tented by his dick. And he comes even closer with the way I'm looking at him.

My gaze pans up again until it lands on his face, his expression stoic, as he’s pulling an eyebrow up, like he’s awaiting what I’ll do. I take a drink, tasting the coffee on my tongue. "Thank you. For the latte." Trying to hide my grin behind the mug. "Sir.", I add, cheekily.

He leans forward, placing his hands on either side of me, caging me in. The look in his eyes burning into me. I still grin up at him, but I feel like I'm in danger. In danger of getting devoured like one of those flaky croissants.

"You wanna say that again with your lips around my dick? Hm?", he asks and my breath halts. Thinking about yesterday again. When I sat on his bed, gagging around his cock.

"Maybe.", I whisper. He just leans down to kiss me and I can taste the bitter coffee on his tongue, as it strokes against mine. Slow and deep.

I put the cup down to the side before my arms reach up, holding onto his shoulders, his hair falling to the front, the tips of it brushing over my skin. I push some of it back, my fingers tangle in the long strands, while I answer his kiss.

He's not breaking away, still caging me in, even though one of his hands moves to my panties. The fingers toying with the hem, easily slipping under the fabric. My legs spread even wider, I squirm into his touch and our kiss gets messier, sloppier. His thumb finds my clit, softly pressing against it, and the light touch makes me needy for more.

"Fuck, please.", I whimper into the kiss, and I can feel his lips turn up into a smile. He breaks away, keeping up the constant brushes against my clit, kissing down to my neck.

My hand tries to reach for his dick, but he catches my wrist. "Just- let me.", he murmurs, pressing his hot mouth against my pulse point. Sucking on it softly. A needy mewl escapes me when his middle finger slips into me. Just one digit, not quite enough to fill me up, even with his big fingers.

Soft teasing touches, enough to get me worked up, but not enough to get me anywhere near finishing. And he knows what he's doing.

König pulls back, his lids hooded, his gaze intently on me, which makes me acutely aware of the expression on my own face, the O shape of my mouth. His finger is still moving inside me, the brushes against the most sensitive spot make me squirm.

I teether on the edge of an orgasm, until he pushes another one inside me, filling me up. His fingers move fast now, against my fluttering walls. Coaxing the release out of me and I come, pulsing around them. Leaving me wet and needy for more touches.

He pulls the panties over my pussy again, the fabric soaking up my juices in an instant. His hand clasps over it, softly massaging over it, until they soaked wet with my own juices.

König simply pushes his sweatpants down, pulling out his cock, letting it rest against my clothed pussy. Then he spits and a dollop of saliva drops onto my panties. The sound alone makes me whimper, while I lean back until my shoulderblades hit the cabinets behind me.

The spit runs down, right over the tip of his dick. He drags it through it, spreading the wetness on his length, soaking my underwear even more. Slow and deliberate, taking his time. The slick just being enough, so he can flit over it.

I groan at the sight, the filthy little move making me even hotter. He pulls up one eyebrow while looking at me, the smirk on his lips infuriatingly cocky. He ruts his hips forward, his hard dick pushing against my pussy lips and clit. The friction due to the fabric in between us, against my sensitive skin, is almost too much to handle, my hands gripping his arms, nails digging into his biceps.

His hands splayed on my thighs and he looks down, my eyes following his until we're both fixed on the spot where he is rubbing himself against me. The little hickeys on the skin next to it. His thumb coasts over the bitemark on my inner thigh, a faint imprint still showing up. He lifts his hand for just a moment, pressing a kiss to his pointer and middle finger and then pressing them onto the mark.

If I wasn't so wound tight from his teasing touches, I think I would've actually awww'ed at the little gesture, him kissing the bite better. Like this, I only sigh, grinding against his dick, searching for more friction.

He slumps forward, his forehead resting against mine. "Fuck, I need to be inside you.", he grunts, his words sending a shiver down my spine. He lifts me from the countertop, my legs wrapping around him.

"What, no magic condoms appearing out of thin air this time?", I tease him, my fingers stroking over his shoulders.

“The magician is out of props for such stunts.”, he grumbles. “And there will still be enough time to fuck you on every surface in the whole house.”

He hurries upstairs to the bedroom where he sets me down on the bed and we both scramble to get off our clothes. I pull my shirt over my head and fall into the soft mattress, watching him shed his. His dick is hanging out his sweatpants, half caught in the waistband, bobbing up and down with his movements before he lets the pants fall down to the floor.

He grabs a condom out of the pack that's lying out on the nightstand, the packaging torn at the front, and puts the rubber on.

My eyes pan up from the dark fluff of his happy trail, the tummy, the upper abs and his huge pecs, dark hair peppered over them. His nipple piercing. The broad shoulders, adorned with black ink that spans down his arms as well. Trying not to look at the parts where cuts and other scars disturbed the otherwise impeccable images inked into the skin.

He looks back at me, from underneath his eyebrows, one of them quirking up, as he climbs onto the mattress, his weight pushing it down.

I yelp and giggle, as he grabs me by the hips, pulls me into him, until the swells of my ass hit his thick thighs. My legs drop to the side on their own, and he takes that as the invitation it is, his hand pulling the wet panties to the side and just slipping into me.

We both groan as he settles deep inside me, the stretch of his thickness making my head drop back and my eyes roll back.

His hand catches my chin, softly digging into it. Making me look up as he sits back on his knees and slowly starts to fuck me.

“See how fucking pretty you are?”

His eyes are on me, on my face, while I look up at the mirror, focused in on the point where we are connected. Seeing how his dick pushes into me, until he's balls deep, his tip pressing up against my cervix.

Sliding out, inch by inch, almost completely pulling out. In again. I feel the stretch as my pussy takes him in. It's a tight fit, but I'm wet and dripping from how he worked me up.

And out. The feeling of emptiness only dissipates, when his hips snap forward, filling me up quickly, and a moan drops from my lips, the shape contorted to an O.

He starts to fuck me harder, his hand coming around my throat, his fingers closing around my neck, gentler than I would have liked. Pulling me into him while he pounds into me. His hand is other still grabbing onto my panties, the fabric aching as he uses it as leverage to move me into his thrusts.

Rip.

The sound of fabric ripping cuts through the otherwise soft erotic soundscape. The drowsiness drops out of his gaze, his eyes widen in shock, as he looks down, stopping his thrusts. "Scheiße, sorry.", he curses.

I laugh a bit while I shake my head. "Don't worry, it's just clothes.", sitting up on my elbows, reaching out for him. Needing him to continue.

He lets go of them, the fabric hanging from my hips, and leans forward, pressing a deep kiss onto my mouth in apology. His hand softly strokes the side of my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. Close, so close, his forehead resting against mine, as he rolls his hips against me.

He straightens back up, picking up his thrusts again. His arm spans over my whole body, the muscled limb covering half of me. I feel so small compared to him, the contrast so stark when I'm splayed out like this in front of him.

His hand moves down a bit and his thumb pushes against my lips. I lick it, play with it and then release it with a pop, but just a moment later two of his fingers push into my mouth again.

He sinks in deep, my lips closing around them. Two is almost too much already. I start to lick them, to suck on his fingers, hesitatingly at first, but the little sounds that drop from his lips spur me on.

He moves them in unison with the pushes of his dick into me. The combined touches making me lose my mind fast. It almost was like he was fucking me from the front and back at the same time.

I gag around him, spit coats his digits as I suck them off like I would another part of him. And I guess, he is thinking about that as well, the heat in his gaze intensifying.

The sight mirrored back to me – of his dick pounding into me, while his fingers are fucking my mouth all sloppily, pushing into the wet heat, my lips barely reaching the lettering on his knuckles, is getting me worked up.

From the way he's looking at me, his eyes fixed on my face, while I swallow him up, it's driving him crazy too. Groaning, as I take him deep.

Him, just him, fucking me. And me at his mercy. Full, so full of him. And I can't help but think about what it would be like to have him fill all of my holes. The thought alone sends a tingle of filthy desire down my spine and I hum around him.

"Fuck, look at you, taking me so well.", he drawls. His words, the soft growl in them, wash over me and I can feel the zap of pleasure deep, when he bottoms me out, his dick hitting the right spot again.

I come, my body arching off the sheets, my sighs and screams muffled by the fingers in my mouth, as my eyes roll back.

He doesn't stop, fucking me through it. My pussy squeezes around him, and while I still come down from the orgasm, I can feel his other hand grabbing my hip, holding tight. His fingers still in my mouth, stroking against my tongue. Sinking into my throat, the letters on his knuckles disappearing as he pushes further in, and I gag around them once again.

They leave my mouth, all of a sudden, and I take a deep breath. "Please fuck, I-", he groans. "I want to come in your mouth. May I?" The inflection in his voice is almost pleading.

I nod, the thought alone sending another shiver of arousal through me. “Yes.”, I answer breathlessly, still a little hazy from my orgasm.

He pulls back entirely, his dick slipping out of my pussy. I scramble onto my knees, while he gets up from the bed, standing in front of it.

Getting off the condom quickly, his hand running up and down his length, continuing to chase his release. My spit is still on the two digits that were just inside me, now slowly coating his cock.

I press a soft kiss to the tip that is leaking precum, tasting the saltiness on my tongue. Flicking it over the piercing. My eyes pan up, searching for his, before I take him a little deeper into my mouth. Sucking on his tip while he jerks himself off. Hasty and desperate. A rumbly moan shakes his chest, his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck, gonna cum.", he mutters, the words all breathy.

I hum around his dick, licking and sucking eagerly, when he spills onto my tongue and down my throat. I lick up every single drop, swallowing it all. He shakes and shivers when I don't stop sucking until he's spent.

I release him with pop, when his fingers grip my chin, and open my mouth to show him. "Good fucking girl.", he drawls, the praise washing over me, as I sit back on my knees. He crouches down a bit, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. Like he's waiting for something, but he doesn't say anything.

My cheeks blush red, as I remember what we talked about before. "Thank you, Sir.", I say, looking him straight into his eyes.

His answer is a deep satisfied sound, almost turning into a growl, as he leans forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss. Crawling into bed again, pulling me onto his front, until I’m strewn over him like a blanket that isn’t even big enough for the big man. He’s softly stroking my back, the touches comforting and gentle.

I push my cheek into his pecs, the hairs on his chest tickling the soft skin, and I breathe in his scent. The warm calming tone. I feel his upper body rising and sinking with every single breath of his, until we are in unison. The deep calmness almost carries me away, and I feel myself getting sleepy. I mean, we didn’t get a lot of sleep. And getting fucked liked this was tiring, although not tiresome at all.

In the silence around us, a thought of mine cuts through post-fuck haze.

“I don’t wanna go home.”, I whisper against his chest, after looking for the right words to say.

His hand stops for just a second. “Then don't.”, he answers simply, continuing his soft caresses.

I lift my head from his pec, looking at him. “Are you sure? I don't want to disturb your vacation.”, I ask.

“I'm not on vacation, I'm on leave.”, he explains. “And you're not disturbing anything.” A little reassuring smile is appearing on his lips.

“I didn’t bring much though. Not even like any more clothes.”, I say hesitatingly.

“Would it be terribly selfish of me to put you in my stuff to keep you here?”, he asks, the smile widening a bit.

I laugh. “I fear, I won't fit into any of that. I mean, I think I could build a tent to sleep in from the shirts you wear.”

“That's fair.”, he grins at me, pushing my hair out of my face. And then he kisses me again, sweet and slow, until I sigh against his lips.

“You have to stop kissing me like that.”, I say, teasingly.

His smirk drops from his face. “Why?”, he asks.

“Because it makes me want to sit on your dick again.”, I jokingly confess.

He starts laughing, his whole body shaking. “That can be arranged.”, he grins at me.

“But – we can’t stay in bed the whole weekend.”, I retort.

“We can’t?”, he pipes up, his question somewhere between a pouty joke and sincere query.

I think about it for a second. “Mmh, I don’t know. Might tire you out, old man.”, I tease him, sticking my tongue out at him.

His eyes light up, all of a sudden, I get flipped, the whole world is spinning around me. He is on top of me, his weight presses me down into the mattress. His thighs spread my legs for him, his dick lying over my tummy, already hard again.

He grabs another condom. “If you keep this up, we’re gonna go through the whole packet.”, he jokes, one side of his mouth topping up in a smirk.

“Is that a challenge?”, I ask, caressing down his chest, inching in on his dick, while he is still fiddling with the rubber.

He grabs my wrists and pins them over my head, stretching me out on the mattress, while I grin up at him, splayed out like that.

“If you want it to be…”, he whispers against my face, his lips kissing down to my neck while he pushes inside me.

The mug on the kitchen counter is still half full, the coffee now cold. I take a sip, relishing the milky liquid running down my throat. Sitting here at the kitchen island in just his shirt. The Dark Tranquility one he wore when we first met.

“What are you doing?”, he asks me, utterly confused, as he sees me. He put on his sweatpants again and they are as delicious as they were before. Especially in combination with his naked chest.

“Finishing my coffee.”, I explain, taking another long sip.

“But that’s… cold.”, he says, the disgust palpable.

“Yeah, I like it like that. I drink them lukewarm. At best.”, I explain, with full confidence.

“Woman, you drive me crazy.”, he sighs, then laughs, making himself another coffee. Fresh, hot and black. “One of these days, we’re gonna manage to drink the drinks at the temperature they’re so supposed to be enjoyed at.” The loud noise of the coffee maker cuts through my laughter.

“We can certainly try.”, I say, taking another sip from my blasphemous coffee.

“So, about your stuff.”, he starts, as he leans against the kitchen island. The mug in his hand is looking ridiculously small compared to him. Just like me.

“Yeah, my panties are kinda ruined now, too.” I say and shoot him a pointed look.

“I don’t have any panties that will fit you.”, he says, the corner of his lips quirking up.

“No shit sherlock.”, I remark sarcastically, lifting the shirt that is hanging from my shoulders. That’s almost reaching to my knees. You could fit three of me in there.

“We can go to your apartment, you can look after Mimi and get some clothes, and then come back here. It’s no big deal.”, he suggests.

I sigh. “You sure?”

He nods, just waiting for my answer patiently. While I contemplate if it was okay to stay here for longer.

“Okay, quickly, just to get some stuff.”, I agree.

When we go to leave, I notice that my shoes are neatly lined up, not at all how I left them, when I stormed into the house yesterday evening. Standing just right beside an old pair of his combat boots.

next part: painting his nails or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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squidslugs-art · 5 months

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HERE YE ALL HIGH ROLLER'S HIGH ROLLER FANS

so for like, the 2 people paying attention to me talking about my "secret project" on my main blog, i hope you like the result, because my december project has been...

LOW BALLERS!!!!!!!!!

ive been quietly painting ducks and creating myself a trio of little guys over the last, hm, 2? 3 weeks?

i dont even rember. but ive been planning this for months, i just didnt have time around university to do it til now.

BUT i had so much fun with these. painting ducks is surprisingly fun and it all went really well! i think the only issue is the only hats i could get had a straw texture already applied.

i used silver for details, mostly because i forgot to buy white and i thought id see how silver looked so i could dodge trying to buy more paint at christmas, and it looked good on the first so i stuck with it!

for those curious: i used white racing ducks (means they dont squeak or squish, but i think thats ideal for a painting project) and plastic hats designed for dolls and crafts. and wine bottles toppers, according to the terrible names that these get on amazon. with acrylic paints and superglue to affix the hats down. they aren't waterproof, sorry to the belivers.

heres a turnaround for ya'll too, i added some goofy details like sparkles around the glasses and the hat. its a tragedy i couldnt get metallic paints for the hat.

i think thats all ive got to say, hope everyone else likes my little guys the way i do :3 now on to make more until i have an undefeatable army of them...

more images under the read more!

#i have a ton more images of them especially from production #most of them have piss poor lighting though #art #artists on tumblr #toontown #toontown corporate clash #ttcc #low baller #high roller #i guess?#theyre here in spirit #if i make enough of these will it bring high roller into the real world too #no idea what to tag these as otherwise ummm #duck painting #?#long post

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bitchfitch · 1 year

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Stained glass tutorial bc the birds are good for it.

The tldr with more resources and a few video tutorial links is here (link)

this is our target and this is our pattern:

if you're wondering why I'm just handing out the pattern to a piece i plan on selling, the answer is because all stained glass pieces are their own pattern. By posting the image of the piece i already gave you the pattern to it.

What you need:

1 sheet of printer paper,

scissors,

glue stick or a washable marker that works on glass,

grozier pliers,

curved jaw pliers,

glass cutter,

flux and something to apply it with,

60/40 acid free solder,

copper tape,

gloves,

eye protection,

soldering iron with stand and rheostat,

water proof sand paper or waterproof nail file,

black patina or black acrylic paint,

some kind of heat proof surface to work on. I use asphalt coated compressed fiber board because it was cheap and easy to get at the hardware store

a well ventilated area to work in. or a table set up outside, which is the most well ventilated area you probably can access without a key card to a chemistry lab.

finally: 1+ panes of translucent/cathedral glass.

if something is not pictured in the below image it's because getting it meant fighting my cord management or standing up to go get it. The white waffle grid thing is not necessary. It just makes clean up easier so I'm using it and also i was too lazy to move it. a box of nails is pictured, they are also helpful but also not necessary. especially if you are not using something you can easily push them into as a work surface

I'm just using my normal glasses for eye protection, you don't need anything super fancy but you do need something to stop any flying shards.

Anyways. Soldering and finishing is in a reblog of this. i needed more pictures than you can put in a single Tumblr post

Step 1 Pattern Prep

print your pattern out. once if you are just going to use a marker to copy it onto your glass, twice if you are going to glue it down to use that way.

you may notice my pattern is backwards. That's because i printed it out wrong and can't be fucked to go fix it. Anyways.

Number your pieces in the same order on both copies if you are using the glue method, for such a simple pattern it's not uber necessary but it's a good habit to get into. Larger and more complicated pieces rapidly become broken glass jigsaw puzzles if you don't.

Step 2 putting the pattern on the glass

the way you make the glass the right shape is by using a glass cutter, that bronzy thing with all the tape around the barrel to make it easier for me to grip. the way it works is it holds a very thin metal disk that you press into the glass to introduce a fault line the glass will hopefully want to break along. I said hopefully for a reason.

All cuts have to go from one edge of the glass to the other because that's what the crack will do when you break it. Keep that in mind while you lay down your pieces. I've used a marker to show how i plan to cut this pane but unless you're doing a tricky cut order you don't really have to do that

I'm using what i have on hand so how you lay your pieces out will probably be different if you've bought whole panes to work with. This is a much more wasteful way of doing it than i normally would, but the goal with this one was to produce a piece that doesn't require a glass grinder as those are an expensive thing to get when you're just starting out.

Also plan to cut on the Less textured side of the glass, the texture can get in the way. if you would like the texture to be on the front of your finished piece simply glue your pieces upside down onto the smoother side. also know that less textures glass is easier to use

I didn't have any more of that darker grey blue so I'm using a light bluish lavender piece instead. it looks brown because of the the yellow underneath it

step 3 cut the glass

take a piece of preferably translucent glass and practice this step a few times before doing it on your project.

Press the wheel at the end of the stylus firmly against the glass at one edge, the keep pressure as you push or pull your line. you will know if you're using enough force because clear glass makes a very specific noise when it's being scored. I can't describe it but you'll know it when you hear it. you'll also be able to see the score line from some angles, it should look like a very fine crack in the glass. I've also heard it described as "like a white hair has been set on top of the glass". do not stop, lift your cutter, or go backwards over the scorline you have already made. The crack is a Lot more likely to go off course and destroy your piece if you do.

do only one line at a time before using the grozier pliers to break the glass.

there should be a line on the silicone protector things on the edge of you pliers, hold them so that that mark lines up with your score line and apply pressure , start light and slowly increase until it begins to crack. If the crack immediately runs the whole length of the pane then your done, if it doesn't, rotate the pane and do the same thing on the other edge of the glass until it starts cracking from there too. if it Still doesn't meet in the middle help it along by tapping along the uncracked part of the score line with the tip of your pliers handle until the crack finishes the job. If it's a very long straight one you can also use the edge of a table to encourage the crack to form in the right place.

if the crack decides to go off your scorline just finish breaking that score line and then peel off your pattern piece and reposition it to try again. if you used something like an Elmer's glue stick you can reactivate the glue with a Small amount of water dabbed over the pattern piece with your finger.

Once you have most of the glass broken off use your curved jaw pliers to very carefully nip away at any extra bumps. like half a millimeter at a time, don't just bite into a big chunk, itll shatter the piece. The flat side of the jaws is used to leverage the piece against to break it that way. it's helpful to pick an orientation for your pliers and just commit to always holding them like that. with the flat jaw either up or down. It'll help you build the muscle memory and learn to use them faster.

enjoy your pile of broken glass and dream about the grinder that wouldve made this easier.

Step 4 grinding deburing.

use your water proof file or sand paper to to knock any little bits of broken glass off. it is Vitally important that you do this with the file Wet. glass dust likes to float on any little draft and it's Super not good for your eyes lungs throat or nose.

You can also take the time now to refine the shapes and sand off any little nubbins that are in the way.

once you're done use a little dish soap to remove the pattern and any grease or glue left on the piece. if you need to re number the pieces.

Step 5 Foil

foil comes in a handful of sizes, and in silver, black, and copper backed. The sizes determine how thick your leading will be, thinner foil, thinner lines. With art glass or very textured glass you may need to go up a few sizes to make it fit. The color on the back will be visible through clear glass so you might want to pick one that vibes with your colors. I'm using what i had, so i don't actually know the thickness. It is copper backed tho.

take your piece and your roll of foil and place the edge of the piece in the center of the tape so that there's an equal amount of hangover on either side. then carefully roll your piece to wrap the edges in tape. being sure to keep it centered the entire way around. when you get back to where you started let the tape overlap itself by at least a quarter of a centimeter or like 1/8th of an inch. then cut the foil.

use your fingers to smooth the foil down over either side of the glass. and then the handle of your scissors or any hard plastic object to firmly press out any creases in the foil. The smoother you can get it the better. because that will make the solder sit flatter.

use the second/primary copy of your pattern for reference and lay out your pieces on top of it. If you're using nails and and a softer work surface you can press them into it around the edges of your pattern to keep the pieces from shifting. for a piece as simple as this it's not necessary but it still might help.

Soldering is next up but I'm posting from mobile and have an image limit to keep in mind. so that will be posted as a reblog in a bit.

#please dont reblog im adding the soldering and finishing section rn. i ran out of pictures

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thestalwartheart · 1 year

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stitch.

Rating: Teen & Up Words: 712 Relationship: James Bond/Q Tags: Hurt/comfort, wound care, developing relationship Summary:

Q does what he does best. Fixes. [Read on AO3.]

Thread, pull, loop, tie, tie again, and again, snip the thread.

Q’s hands don’t tremble anymore.

They’d shaken like leaves the first time. Like pale gossamer, ready to take flight. It had taken an enormous effort to keep them in place over the bloodied wound at Bond’s shoulder, to convince them to stay and do the job Bond was asking of them.

But this is not the first time. Q has lost count of how many times he’s done this now.

And his hands do not tremble.

Thread, pull, loop—

The desk lamp perched on the dining table is the only real light in the room, save for a few lamps that work in the service of ambience rather than clarity. It's a cold, shocking wash of sterile white light, and it makes the thing under it hideous. Bond's latest wound glows red and vivid, surrounded by iodine-yellowed skin.

Horrible. This never stops being horrible.

The cats meow quietly from their carriers, displeased at not being able to nose about in their own house.

Q no longer wastes his breath chastising Bond or telling him to go to Medical. They are long past that argument, over the hill and on the other side of it. Returning to it would take the kind of leg work that both of them are too exhausted to put in again.

Besides, under the influence of nearly a bottle of vodka and three days of exhaustion, Bond had once confessed how disorienting he found it, waking up in Medical, all stitched up and anaesthetised when the last clear memory in his head was full of blood and dust and sound.

I know where I am with you, he’d told Q, running his hand over a small cat scratch on Q’s wrist. I trust you.

—tie, tie again, and again—

“Does it hurt?” asks Q.

His voice is a hush. Any louder, and he thinks they’d both jump. It’s a redundant question. He’d been sure to numb the area before he went in with the needle and thread, but it never seems like enough. There was always something violent about this; poking, prodding and pulling at living skin. Q can’t imagine a numbing cream doing much to counter that violence.

“No.”

And yet.

Q isn’t sure he believes Bond, but he watches closely as the man takes another sip of vodka and sits through another stitch. He winces more at the vodka. Glen’s. The cheap stuff. Glorified paint stripper, as Bond likes to put it.

“Good.”

—snip the thread.

When the job is done — six stitches in all — Q covers them with a waterproof dressing. He turns off the glaring desk lamp, strips off his irritating, clingy disposable gloves and cleans up the gruesome detritus of wound care. When there are no longer any loose needles around, he lets the cats out of their carriers and watches while he’s washing his hands as Bond scratches them under the chin, murmuring sweet, sarcastic nothings into their gormless little faces. They are still in their knitted winter fashions, and for all Bond makes fun of Q for dressing his cats better than he dresses himself, the man certainly does like to tug at their pom poms and fix their hats.

When they are both settled on the couch — Q with a glass of red and Bond with an appropriately top-shelf whisky — Bond turns to him, flexes his injured arm and smiles.

“Not going to kiss it better?”

He’d asked that last time, too, and for whatever reason (likely a mission involving a closer call than usual and the delirium of high blood pressure), Q had acquiesced.

Best not make a habit of it, he thinks. But Bond’s eyes twinkle in the near-darkness, brighter and more engaging than any light Q owns. Then again.

Q leans forward and presses a slightly less than perfunctory kiss over the bandage on Bond’s forearm. In response, Bond threads his fingers through Q’s, considers his hand for a moment, and touches his lips to Q’s knuckles.

“Thank you, Q.”

His gratitude reverberates into Q’s skin. It sounds like it’s aimed at more than the clever hands before it.

Q sighs and wonders how long it’ll be before they’re at this again.

“Anytime, James.”

#00q #00q fic #my fic #james bond

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loomishede29 · 1 month

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Mastering the Art of Glass Painting: A Comprehensive Guide

Welcome to the world of glass painting, where creativity meets craftsmanship to transform ordinary glass surfaces into works of art. Whether you're a seasoned artist or a beginner exploring a new medium, mastering the art of glass painting opens up a realm of possibilities. From vibrant stained glass effects to subtle transparent hues, the versatility of glass paints allows for endless creative expression.

With a variety of glass paints and painting kits available, the journey to creating stunning glass art pieces is both exciting and rewarding. From quality paints that offer brilliant colors to waterproof and heat-resistant options that ensure longevity, the key to achieving professional results lies in understanding the unique properties of each type of glass paint. Whether you're looking to adorn windows, vases, or any other glass surface, this comprehensive guide will equip you with the knowledge and skills needed to elevate your glass painting projects to new heights.

Materials and Tools

In the world of glass painting, having the right materials and tools is essential to achieving beautiful and long-lasting results. When it comes to glass paint, quality is key. Look for paints specifically designed for use on glass surfaces to ensure vibrant colors and durability. A glass painting kit can be a convenient option, as it typically includes a variety of colors, brushes, and other essential tools to get you started.

Transparent glass paint is ideal for creating a stained glass effect, allowing light to pass through the painted surface for a stunning visual impact. For Types of drying equipment explained that require added protection, consider using waterproof glass paint. This type of paint forms a permanent and waterproof seal, ensuring your artwork remains intact even in humid or wet conditions.

In addition to the paint itself, other tools such as heat-resistant glass paint, brushes, palette knives, and stencils can help you achieve various techniques and effects in your glass painting projects. When working on intricate designs or fine details, colored glass paint and glass spray paint can offer precision and versatility. Whether you're a beginner or an experienced glass painter, having the right materials and tools at your disposal can make a significant difference in the outcome of your creations.

Techniques

In glass painting, technique is key to achieving stunning results. One popular technique is the tracing method, where a design is transferred onto the glass using a glass paint outline. This allows for precise detailing and control over the final outcome. Another technique is the sponging method, which creates a textured effect by dabbing paint onto the glass surface with a sponge. This technique is great for adding depth and dimension to your artwork.

For those looking to create a stained glass effect, the leading technique is essential. Leading involves outlining different sections of the design with strips of lead, creating divisions between colors. This technique adds a traditional touch to your glass painting and can be a rewarding way to bring your artwork to life. Experimenting with different techniques can help you discover your own unique style and enhance the overall visual impact of your glass paintings.

When it comes to painting on glass, understanding the firing technique is crucial. Firing refers to the process of heating the painted glass to make the colors permanent and durable. Proper firing ensures that your artwork remains vibrant and long-lasting, able to withstand the test of time. Whether using a kiln or an oven, mastering the firing technique is vital for achieving professional results in glass painting.

Applications

Glass painting offers a wide range of applications for both beginners and experienced artists. Whether you are looking to create colorful suncatchers, personalized glassware, or intricate stained glass windows, the versatility of glass paint allows for endless creative possibilities.

With the right glass painting kit and quality paint, you can easily transform plain glass surfaces into beautiful works of art. From vibrant colors to subtle shades, glass paints provide excellent coverage and transparency, making them suitable for various projects such as decorative ornaments, candle holders, and even picture frames.

The waterproof and heat-resistant properties of certain glass paints make them ideal for outdoor applications as well. Enhance your garden decor with weatherproof glass painted plant pots or add a touch of elegance to your patio with personalized glass lanterns. The permanent and durable nature of these paints ensures that your creations will stand the test of time, maintaining their beauty for years to come.

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radioactivepeasant · 1 year

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Fic Prompts: Meddling Mar Monday

Back in order again, picking up with the boys being transfered from the tower to their new home. Chapter index can be found HERE

The building didn't look like much. It was the same sandstone and stucco construction as the rest of the city, with two separate staircases and doors going to two separate levels. The lower level had some yellow and white paint around the lintel in designs that were no longer fully discernible, and that was the only touch that indicated the building was inhabited at all. Damas rapped sharply on the lower door and grumbled under his breath.

He'd called ahead, of course. As the evaluator, it was his job to inform city landlords when a new tenant was arriving. But Alma was one of Spargus's more...eccentric individuals. She was an elder, and therefore held a place of honor in the West Quarter as a retired sharpshooter. Damas trusted that she'd keep these young rascals well in hand. But...well, she had always been a bit odd when it came to rent and trading. And she operated very much on her own time and nobody else's.

At last the door opened, and a diminutive woman with a sharply curved spine squinted up at him. She leaned on a driftwood cane and cocked her head to look around Damas to the boys behind him.

"About time someone sent me some more strong backs," Alma wheezed, "Am I supposed to drag my groceries home by my cane?"

Daxter groaned and buried his face in Jak’s scarf. "Noooo, it's another Samos!"

Damas cleared his throat. "No manual labor for another week, Alma. Petros's orders."

Alma blinked her round, brown eyes behind owlish spectacles. "Petros?! Ay, sire, the messenger said they were exiles! You're telling me that beanpole behind you is a minor?"

Mar tiptoed to peer around Damas’s elbow at the woman who was supposed to be their new landlady. For a moment, the elderly woman and the little boy just stared at each other. Then Mar innocently announced, "You look like a dragonowl."

"Mar!" Jak hissed under his breath, and lightly cuffed his younger brother across the back of his head.

"Hey!" Mar twisted to shoot a dirty look at Jak. "What was that for?!"

Alma blinked twice. "He's tiny," she said flatly.

Unbidden, the memory of the children collapsed in the desert surfaced in Damas’s mind. He grimaced.

"Aye. If there's any trouble with upkeep, I'll deal with it."

Blessedly, the old woman didn't point out that usually that was an assigned guardian's job. Damas didn’t feel like having to justify his monitoring of the boys -- or the gut feeling driving him.

Alma shuffled over a step and adjusted her glasses. "You! Tall child!" she beckoned to Jak.

Jak sighed and prepared himself for the kind of inane orders people always gave him. "Yeah?"

With a thump of her cane, Alma declared, "Rent is the second of every month. One whole conch shell, no fragments missing. And no critters inside! Can't abide them little pinchers."

Then she turned to Mar.

"And you! Pequeño, you know how to make bread?"

Mar, Daxter, and Jak exchanged bewildered looks.

"Kinda?" Mar answered cautiously. "Out of rice flour mostly?"

Alma made a face. "Rice flour?" she asked, "What does that taste like? Eh, nevermind. Go wash your hands. You're all helping me make bread."

Then she paused and peered at Daxter.

"Does he shed?"

Indignantly, Daxter puffed himself up and stood.

"He does not, thank you very much! This coat is made for waterproofing!"

Damas raised a hand between them as though cutting off an argument before it could begin.

"This is Daxter," he said calmly. "He is not an animal. He has a....a condition."

"Boy meets dark eco, dark eco wins," Daxter supplied helpfully.

The woman's eyes lit with mild interest. "That so? Here I thought the stuff just killed ya."

She took a dragging step away from the door and pointed to the stairs leading to the upper part of the building.

"You'll be up there, second compartment: the one on the left. But we all eat together. Keeps the lodgers from snacking through all their supplies and into mine."

Jak studied the upper half of the building and nodded. Space for the three of them, shared resources, and a rent he could pick up on the beach. That wasn't bad at all, really. In fact, it reminded him of picking up the once ubiquitous Precursor orbs all over Sentinel Beach to buy power cells from his neighbors. The heat was draining his energy far faster than he would have liked -- apparently Dr. Petros actually did know what he was talking about -- but still Jak itched to get into the water. He wanted to dive below the surf and look for forgotten treasures in the clear blue water, down where no one could bother him but fish.

It took him a moment to realize Damas was speaking to him. Jak tore his eyes from the direction of the sea and blinked.

"Huh?"

Damas frowned. "I said this evening someone will show you where and how to buy food. Help where you can, but keep in mind that if you push yourself too quickly you'll just end up in the recovery ward again."

"Oh." Jak shrugged. "I'll be fine. Hey, uh, how do you get to the water from here?"

Damas lifted an arm to point between two asymmetrical houses. "It's about five minutes' walk due West. You'll have plenty of time to explore after the noon rest. Understood?"

He was testing Jak, seeing whether he could take orders. Jak wasn't sure how he knew that, but he could just feel it. Well, lucky for Damas, Jak already felt somewhat indebted to him. In most cases, he didn't comply with orders unless he was getting something in return. Give and take, tit for tat. Owing a favor meant somebody had power over him -- and Jak had long since learned that someone having power over him meant that he was going to get hurt.

Sure, the desert people acted affronted by the suggestion that a couple of kids owed them for medical treatment, but when it came down to it, a debt was a debt. Jak wanted to investigate this society from a place of equal standing, not as a destitute castaway. He would tread lightly until he had the measure of these people.

"Fine, fine." He folded his arms and tried to downplay his eagerness to explore.

Precursors, how long had it been since he'd gotten to explore someplace new? At least he had that to look forward to.

"Thanks," he added, absent-mindedly.

Damas studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Prioritize your recovery over physical activity," he directed. "At least until Petros clears you to join the regular chore roster. I'll see you all later."

Then he aimed a sidelong glance at Mar.

"And Seek? Behave."

Daxter burst out laughing at the parting words. Mar folded his arms and did his best to glower menacingly at the king. Predictably, it was far more endearing than threatening. Damas cracked a smile and waved him off.

"You'd better get going if you want to help Alma make bread," he said, pointing behind them.

Mar hesitated. He wanted to ignore The Snitch as a matter of principle. But fresh bread was fresh bread, and he wasn't going to turn it down. He grabbed Jak's hand and towed him into the house behind him. No way was he doing all this lady's kitchen chores by himself!

Inside, herbs hung in bundles from the rafters, well out of reach of a frustrated animal trying in vain to get to them. It reared up on spindly black legs, dancing back and forth on cloven hooves and bleating piteously. Alma hobbled past it, ignoring its cries.

"Told you I'd get Leif to tie the herbs up if you kept eating them," the woman sniffed.

Dropping back on all fours, the creature bleated again and butted its small head against Alma's side. She pushed it away, nonplussed.

"Don't fuss at me! You were supposed to go back outside once you were weaned!"

Mar shoved past Jak and scrambled over a bootjack and short step to get to the animal.

"What's that?" he asked, staring into bright, slit pupils.

Alma squinted at him. "You never seen a caprid before? That one's a kid. Cabbie: the most spoiled caprid in the flock. Completely rotten."

Mar stroked the baby caprid's sandy brown head. "You have more?!"

Jak crossed the threshold to crouch next to him and run a hand over the caprid's velvety ears. "What do they eat? I didn't see a lot of plants on the way here."

"Cactus, mostly," Alma answered, "And anything else they can fit in their thieving little mouths. I swear if I didn't need the milk for cooking..."

She shook her cane at Cabbie menacingly.

"Half of your cousins: cabrito en salsa! Wham!"

Mar didn't know what cabrito en salsa was, but it sounded like food. He frowned and covered Cabbie's ears.

"Don't listen, kid," Jak said, patting it's short coat.

Their new landlady shook her head as if in despair. "Don't encourage him, he's bad enough already!"

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #meddling mar au #jak and daxter au #jak and daxter mar #spargan ocs #alma keeps a flock of goat-like critters for milk meat and hide. Mar loves them. They hate everyone but Mar and Jak #in this world caprids are kind of like an ibex crossed with a very small antelope #dadmas #king damas #don't worry damas. having a pet will go a long way toward keeping Mar out of trouble #meddling mar monday

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artsupplies-battle · 1 year

Text

Art supplies battle

blood of my enemies VS synthetic voice bank

Glitter gel pen VS mayonnaise

Glass dip pen VS shitty cheap half empty pen

Graphite pencil VS Ribbon tool

Highlighters VS acrylic paints

Camera VS tones

Ballpoint pen VS vocoloid

Kneadable graphite VS watercolor pencil

Charcoal VS paper

Silver wire VS the shitty dried out markers from the artist briefcase

Digital pen VS the kickers brush they made

Nail art brushes VS hair

Glue dibber VS bleach

Blend tool VS found objects

Kneadble eraser VS harmonica

Yarn VS the sharpener on the back of a Crayola crayons 64 box

Water colors VS mouse (computer)

A cats little foot VS knife

Dirt VS Bobby pin

Rocks VS bow rosin

Photoshop VS Bic Atlantis ball point pen

Sketchbook VS knitting needles

Crochet hooks VS cintiq

Oil pastels VS washi tape

Bic mechanical pencil VS uv resin

Crayons VS disk (like a CD)

Sumi brush VS scanner

Ukulele VS rubber (condom)

Bass guitar VS roofei art kit

Waterproof pens VS Wacom drawing tablet

Fluffy watercolor VS gumi

Charcoal VS gold leaf

The notes app VS pencil (not specific)

Fingers VS toothpick

Tipex VS big tubs of paint

That dry pen you have VS processing

Saliva VS melted chocolate ice cream

Sugar VS prismacolor alcohol based markers

Money VS electric guitar

Rubber (eraser) VS kum pencil sharpener

Hatsune miku VS epoxy resin

India ink VS Copic markers

Tattoo machine+ tattoo ink VS MS paint

Lead pencil VS printmaking ink

Needle threader VS flip a clip

Curved needle VS vantablack

Sewing machine VS artists loft dual tip

Blue print VS my tears

Glitter glue VS beads

Ruler VS origami paper/ patterned paper

Prismacolor pencils VS sculpey

Macaroni noodles VS Mr. Super clear matte

Brain VS blood

Sharpie VS bark (wood kind)

Utau/ open utau VS the good pen ™️

Fake blood VS clay

Wooden human model VS fire

Icing bag VS clip studio paint

Posca pens VS cable needle

Fishing line VS ctrl +z

Rattlesnake VS human

ASCII VS 5$ crappy sketchbook

#I DID IT #YES #thanks to bo burnham for getting me through this #art supplies battle

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prep4tomoro · 1 year

Photo

Clever and Survival Uses for Plastic Wrap/Sheeting:

Many everyday objects around the house are helpful for prepping, survival and alternative purposes for which they were not intended. One such ordinary household item is plastic wrap. From kitchen wrap to stretch wrap ("clinging" or "stretching" properties) or heavier plastic sheeting, there are an incredible number of uses. Use your imagination. Always have a roll nearby.

Keep air and moisture out and body heat in by wrapping torso, limbs and feet to preserve body heat and stay dry

Collect rain

Build a Solar Still

Shelter - Covering to make a temporary rain-proof shelter or cover an existing shelter

Water container - Fashion a makeshift container to hold water

Fire starter - Use the makeshift water container to act as a magnifying glass or light it with a match as an accelerant

Waterproof gear

Cordage - TWISTING plastic wrap into a rope makes it extremely strong.

First Aid - cover a wound, make a sling or tourniquet

Ground covering from wet and cold

Winterizing Windows and Doors

Signalling for help or trail marking - it's fairly reflective to attract attention.

Vehicle hose repair

Tool Handle Grip - tool that feels slippery; wrap plastic wrap around the handle of the tool a few times for better grip.

Wrap the ends of your bananas in plastic wrap to slow down the ripening process

Keep items together and in place by placing and wrapping them in a sheet of wrap

Ice cream freezer burn prevention - cover the surface of the ice cream

Shelf liner

Cover to protect surfaces from spills

Cover to protect electronic devices

Covers for open containers

Prevent mixing splatters by covering the mixing container while mixing

Make a travel cup out of any container - cover opening with wrap and stick drinking straw through it

Cover liquid containers under lids to prevent spills and evaporation

Wrap paint rollers and brushes to keep them from drying out between uses.

Wrap Gifts in lots of Plastic Wrap For A Good Laugh

Line dishes with plastic wrap for easy cleanup. Throw away the plastic wrap when the food is over.

Fruit Fly Trap - Puncture small holes in a cover over a small saucer or container containing vinegar or fruit to attract and trap them.

Resources: [Article 1] [Article 2] [Article 3] [Article 4] [Images] [Reference Link]

[14-Point Emergency Preps Checklist] [11-Cs Basic Emergency Kit] [Learn to be More Self-Sufficient] [The Ultimate Preparation] [5six7 Menu]

#plasticWrap #plasticSheetingUses #prepper #survival #shtf #diy #redneck #covering #cordage #firstAid #water #prepare4tomorrow #5six7

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pinkiepiebones · 1 year

Note

if it’s ok can I request gardener renfield opening up a greenhouse :-)

Years after the death of Dracula, Robert Montague Renfield buys his first home. Well, technically it's his second home, but the first one was purchased well over a hundred years ago and for all he knows might have been knocked down and paved over to create a new by-pass.

Anyway.

Robert's settled in New Orleans, because it is where Dracula was dismembered and mixed with concrete and dumped into the sewer system and he'd like to keep an eye out for any vampiric shenanigans that may arise, but also because he's just tired of moving. He sells most of the objects d'art he's been lugging around the past century. He puts some in a storage unit though, out of a sour mix of nostalgia and dread- the stuffed raven, the stuffed albino fox, a few paintings, some bolts of fabric. The coffin.

"Dude, someone would pay millions for that coffin," his best friend Rebecca Quincy asserted the day Robert wheeled it out of the rented U-Haul and into storage. "There's some weird old rich guy out there who would totally want it. You don't have to keep it."

Robert swiped his arm across his brow. "Who'd buy this thing? Honestly? It's a lead box lined with the fur of some extinct animal. Give me a name."

Rebecca thought a moment. "Nicholas Cage?"

"Hasn't he already got a pyramid tomb?"

"Oh yeah... Well maybe he'd use Dracula's coffin as a coffee table or somethin'."

Robert shook his head. "Even if I had a way to contact Mister Cage, I doubt even someone of his, ah, eccentricity would want this." Robert shoved the coffin into the darkest corner of the storage unit. "No, it'll do just fine tucked back here."

Robert's new home is small-but bigger than his apartment with two bedrooms, one and a half bathrooms, and a full acre of yard space- and what the home renovation shows would call a "fixer upper" with "good bones." It makes him happy to work on it. He listens to music and the occasional psychology podcast as he polishes the original wood floors or paints the walls or rewires the light switches. It's therapeutic- he's gone from caring for a monster to caring for himself, and he has found that he enjoys making things bright.

The yard is a paradise for Robert. In the front yard he sticks a couple of those cheery plastic flamingoes he'd wanted for decades and puts in a white picket fence. He gives his home what the home renovation shows would call "great curb appeal." Perhaps superstitiously now, Robert makes sure to not buy a "welcome" mat, and he plants wolfsbane just inside the fence's perimeter. In his head he plays a very old memory of Doctor Van Helsing waving the wolfsbane in his face. It turned out that the man had been right- Dracula fucking hated this stuff.

His backyard is the bigger of the two yards and he decides quite early on he wants a greenhouse. Rebecca helps him build it (mostly because he promises to take her out somewhere nice for dinner, but also because she's his friend and she loves how happy he is). It's small, maybe a bit bigger than two tool sheds, but the inside walls have sturdy, wide shelves where he can start seeds, there's a toolbox with drawers for labels and waterproof markers and seed packets. Bags of soil and watering cans are carefully tucked under the shelves and garden spades varying in length hang from a little cork board propped up against a wall. Robert even refurbished an old battery powered radio and has it set to a station playing classical music, since that seems to be what plants like the most. There's fresh white gravel making up the floor and a thermometer hangs from a string of fairy lights tacked to the wooden frame of the glass door. Plans for a garden are scribbled on a pad of paper beside the toolbox.

Robert and Rebecca are on his little patio one evening, sitting in refurbished mid-century lawn chairs and drinking fizzy alcoholic drinks. Rebecca gestures to the greenhouse. "That turned out pretty good, didn't it?"

Robert nods.

"You ever think about scaling it up?"

"What do you mean?"

Rebecca sets her drink down to gesticulate as she talks. "I mean, you still own the hospital, right? If you pay someone to demolish the building, that'd be a great place to build a greenhouse that people could come buy stuff from." She picks up her drink and sips. "You could even have classes, y'know, on proper plant care. People would love that shit."

Robert smiles. "I guess I never really thought about it. Might feel good to share what I do," he pauses to take a drink, "especially now that what I do isn't, you know, terrible."

Rebecca chuckles.

#renfield #hope this is okay anon #I can't write endings!

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madmarchhare · 6 months

Text

Report from the Ministry of Internal Affairs

October 16th , 6:10:25, 1983

Iveshnya walked down the street of the town, the sharp white light of the rising sun slowly creeping up to bleach the twilight to a dull but comfortable grey, seeming to illuminating the squat low-rises that crowded the town centre. A few people were stirring in the early morning, wives sent out to the stores, lines forming at a few where service was particularly slow, especially as it was a day off for most[1]. A few teenagers rode past on bikes as Iveshnya walked down the street, out for a day of riding in the autumn morning while they yelled to each other, wide but shivering smiles on their faces, their excitement chipped by the cold.

Iveshnya ignored them, his face relaxed as he walked down the street, stepping aside as a group of children walked with their families. Eventually he made it to his destination, set in a wide courtyard filled with waning grass and a mixture of skeletal trees, surrounded by bemused evergreens. It was a large building, rectangular at the central structure, with its broad side serving as the entrance, a great cantilever porchway covering a raised mosaic veranda and stair, all containing a swimming pool. He walked forward, pushing open the blue coloured metal doors that made up the entrance, stepping into the heated space, well lit in gleaming white. The lobby had concrete floor with white painted walls dotted with sports posters, a man, roughly in his forties and balding, a thick pair of glasses sat low on his nose, nearly falling off his face. He looked up at Iveshnya as he walked in, a look of pleased recognition stretching his malleable features, lifting his head as the older man approached.

“Ilyich, good morning! The same as usual?” he asked in a friendly tone, looking up at the man, having to crane his neck slightly to see through the drooped lenses of his glasses at Iveshnya. He saw that he was dressed in a dark, almost purplish, wool coat with a brown fur collar, the colour of walnut, open to show a blue striped telnyashka[2] worn underneath, along with a pair of black slacks, oddly over a pair of white Addidas trainers with pink laces and highlights. The latter he assumed were from a natural difficulty of trying to find a pair of those shoes, let along any of a good colour, even with the more recent contract[3].

“Yes, thank you Pyotrovich,” Iveshnya answered in his usual monotone, handing the fare over to Pyotrovich who smiled warmly as he took it with an open palm, a chipped canine visible in his wry smile. Iveshnya turned and started making his way to the changing room.

“I don’t think anyone else is likely to come today, so you’ve got the pool to yourself,” Pyotrovich called to him as he did, gesturing to him with a level hand. Iveshnya nodded again then continued on into the room to get changed. It was a somewhat small space, tiled with matt white tiles contrasted by mint green horizontal bands that sat at around shin height and a second at shoulder height. He walked over the dry tiles towards the wooden benches that were attached to the back wall, wedged between a bank of lockers, and sat down on it to remove his shoes and socks. He was changed within five minutes, wearing a pair of orange coloured swim trunks and a nickel coloured watch on his wrist, a Slava 114[4] that he wore when swimming as his Pobeda was not waterproof. He locked all his clothes, and his wallet, in one of the lockers but took the locker key and a flask with him as he made his way to the pool itself.

It was an Olympic sized swimming pool, just under two metres deep and square in shape, with a high flat ceiling, steel rafters crossing the breadth of it with lights hung from that illuminated the white space, their light shining back at them from the clear water’s surface, also illuminating the mosaic on the pool’s floor, heavily inspired by Islamic stylings. Iveshnya walked over to the edge of the pool, resting his flask near the pool-side before hopping in, instantly begging to swim lengths up and down the pool. He swam every week, at least once, both for his health and as a way to relax. In many ways you could tell from how he swam, efficient yet comfortable, like a powerful engine left to idle as it wished.

After about two hours he took a break, resting his arms on the pool-side with his back to the wall as he reached for his flask, taking a mouthful of weak vodka mixed with cranberries, the sweet-tart taste cool on his lips. He pushed his hair back with a hand, the only sound in the pool room being the dripping of water as it ran off his soaked beard. After another minute, he got back to swimming doing so for another three hours before he stopped, rising out of the pool and drying himself off as he walked to the changing room.

As he left Pyotrovich called a goodbye to him, giving a light wave as a sendoff, his glasses almost falling from his nose at the sudden motion. As Iveshnya left the building he checked his watch, the time reading as three minutes past midday, the muzzled sunlight overhead attesting to it. He walked out of the wide courtyard that surrounded him, the waning grasses rustling in the wind like dry hay, crackling like dying fires as he walked pas them out into the street. They day, while grey was bright, pleasant even as the mist of frozen breath cluttered in the lungs.

Halfway down the street, in front of a large store, was a massive line, about a hundred people long. He approached with a disinterred expression on his face, walking up to one of the people in the queue, “What was thrown away?”[5] he asked in a flat tone, the addressee turning around to look at Iveshnya. They were a young man with dark skin and black hair, dressed in a short black canvas jacket and jeans with a pair of black, foreign trainers on their feet that they likely purchased from a spekulant[6]

“Smoked ham, along with some Finnish winter boots,” he answered quickly, tucking a Marlboro cigarette box into his jacket, the white pack likely coming from the same place as his trainers. Iveshnya nodded to the man then turned to look down the line.

“Who is the last in line?” he called out in his level shout, carrying far even though it did not seem louder.

“I am,” came the shout from further down the line, coming from a bow shouldered man with bear ears sprouting from a shaved head, smiling with an emaciated face half-way between human and animal. Iveshnya nodded and fell into line behind the man, standing two heads taller than him. He pulled out his avoiska[7], unfolding the small white bag as he waited in the queue. After two hours he finally got into the store, grabbing a pair of cherry-red winter boots, one piece of ham, a loaf of bread and a large bottle of vodka.

When he got to the counter he heard the man next to him be told to take an extra load[8] along with the deficit[9] items he had taken. Three tins of seaweed were shoved into his bag, a grimace coming on his face as they were. Only one tin was foisted on Iveshnya and he handed over the cost, the teller dropping the Rubles into the register and handing him back his few kopecks[10] change.

It was about half-past three when he left the store, the sky darkening slightly overhead, threatening rain. As he returned to the promontory road which his building sat on he saw one of his neighbours in his building milling about in front of it, trimming the grass in a slow, leisurely manner as two of the shop workers from the store nearby leaned on the wall near to him. They were chatting pleasantly about the weather and how one of the store clerks, a leshy[11] with a small, pretty face covered in yellow-orange leaves and stood on dirty white goat legs, was saving up to buy a car. They didn’t pay Iveshnya much mind as he walked by, his neighbour a slightly older veteran of one more war, left with a single arm, waved to him as he walked by, getting a polite nod in response before he stole up the stairs.

When he reached his room he dropped his bag onto the folded up table, begging to take a few things out when his phone rang, the bell chiming steely through the small space. He stopped and walked over to it, pulling the hand-set of its cradle and putting it to his ear. “Iveshnya, what is it?” “You need to come in, an urgent matters come up with…” the caller continued, Iveshnya silent as he was given his instructions, then setting the phone down before rushing off, locking the door to his flat behind him, though not before grabbing his pistol from a cupboard.

[1] Sunday was the designated common day of rest in the Soviet work week.

[2] Тельняшка. A horizontally striped undershirt worn by Russian military personnel. It has stripes in white and a colour that varies according the unit affiliation of the wearer. Blue and white was worn by the Navy among a few others.

[3] Referring to a joint venture between Adidas and the Soviet government to manufacture Adidas shoes in the soviet union. In reality, it was decided by the Soviet government that the highest priority of shoes to manufacture were those for country skiing, which had a solid inflexible sole and a protruding toe like in ski boots. Yet, in pursuit of cool looking shoes, Soviet citizens would still buy these shoes, sheer of the projecting outsole and wear them like regular shoes, despite their discomfort. Here, it is with the idea that a more normal shoe was put into production.

[4] Cлава, lit. Glory. The first electric watch commercially sold in the Soviet Union, initially entering the market in 1959. It is a copy of the Hamilton electric watch.

[5] Что выбросили. A phrase that was asked in the USSR to ask what deficit[Items hard to get in shops in the USSR] items had been put on sale in the shop. It likely arose as people knew that when these items came in they were kept in the warehouses and the shop workers would then sell them to their friends or those they owned a favour first before they were sold in the shop. It was only when the store might need to meet sales quotas that deficit items were ‘thrown away’ onto the shelves and sold as a way to make up their numbers.

[6] Спекулянт. Referring to someone who buys goods and sells them on for profit, this was an illegal practice in the Soviet Union, and indeed it was a directorate of the MVD that was responsible for their prosecution. Spekulyatsiya [Спекуляция] was the term used to refer to the practice of buying and selling of items on for a profit.

[7] Авосика. A small bag taken with you in case you saw something you wanted for sale at a shop.

[8] В Нагрузку. It was typical in Soviet stores that in addition to deficit items[items that were hard to get in the USSR] they were made to take something in addition that they might not want, and did not sell well in the store.

[9] Дефицит. Items that were hard to get or not on shelves often.

[10] The smaller denomination of Soviet money, a hundred kopecks making one Ruble.

[11] Леший. Typically tutelary deities of forests in Slavic folklore. Typically humanoid, with the ability to change their size and height and change their appearance. They have many forms in folklore, but are often described as a hybrid creature, often with some form of plant life and animal features in a humanoid shape.

@guesst @truegoist @thewormsheep @muaviinu @xatsperesso @toomuchhobbies-toolittletime @ghosticosmic @simplelobster

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // here

#original writing #creative writing #writing #HMAD

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