#infernal combustion engine
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Oh no, I did it again.
"The Infernal Combustion Engine is widely regarded as one of the most impactful thaumaturgical devices ever conceived in the history of the world. The underlying principle behind it is a fairly simple one – using the appropriate arcane equations, a small speed demon is summoned, bound, and made to sort pressurised gas particles in a bifurcated chamber by the speed of their movement. Faster-moving, higher-energy particles are collected by the demon into one chamber, where they gather and thus heat the chamber up, whereas slower-moving, lower-energy particles are not permitted to leave the other chamber, thus cooling it down.¹ The temperature-differences between the two chambers can then be harnessed to perform work – and such engines were promptly utilised in powering assorted devices, eventually sparking a small revolution in the field of transportation.
Naturally, concerns have been raised on whether or not the entrapment of demons in such manner was ethical or sustainable. Proponents suggested that being exploited for their labour without reward was fitting punishment for the demons in question, and the good inherent to punishing the wicked thus offsets the decidedly evil act of summoning them to begin with. Those opposed, however, suggested that – beyond two wrongs not making a right – the runoff of inert particles vented into the environment as a waste product may lead to the buildup of a miasma of low-grade evil, which could have dire consequences in the future if kept unchecked. The prevalence of Infernal Combustion Engines in this day and age suggest, above else, that the proponents have much better public relations.
Meanwhile, the man who initially conceived of the device – the famed arch-warlock Maxwell – has refused to weigh in on the discourse as, in his own words, he is not qualified to opine on the ethics of the situation when his sole purpose in creating the damned thing in the first place was to see whether or not he could break the second law of thaumodynamics and actually get away with it.²"
¹ As slower-moving, lower-temperature particles may rapidly decay into an inert state and are generally not desired, and vice versa for the faster-moving, higher-temperature particles, these chambers have come to be referred to as "Malice" and "Bonfire".
² He did, as the Infernal Combustion Engine made it possible for his getaway car to be fast enough.
#original content#writing#infernal combustion engine#maxwell's demon#thaumodynamics#gods help us all
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Your letters: Electric vehicle driver touts virtues of EV world
Dear editor,
The groundswell of trash talk around electric cars leaves me, an owner of both a Chevy Volt first, and now a Bolt, mystified, angry, but hardly speechless. Mystified, because the complaints about EVs bear no similarity to my own experience with them over the past six and a half years. Angry, because I’d bet good money that the source of the snow job comes directly from the fossil…
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#Dan Barth#electric vehicles#EVs#infernal combustion engine#letter to the editor#opinion#PHEV#Your letters
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#i was going to go out but it started to rain which is very good because my city is very hot#so i decided to stay at home to watch the barca game and watch an f1 race for the FIRST TIME#but my brain has combusted because i can't do two things at the same time#so i chose the f1#when the cars started my heart pounded and i was so EXCITED#the beginning was pure adrenaline for me so THAT'S THE FEELING?#i must confess that the rbr car seduced me but it is because it is BLACK AND I LOVE BLACK#so seriously guys how did max do that? what was in that engine? energetic???#but i was there for charles and he was being the serotonin in my lunch hour#when his car stopped and i saw him leaving my heart broke into a thousand pieces ):#i really cried when i saw his little face so sad ):#i feel like i gave my boy bad luck 😔#i'm sorry my prince 😭#ferrari doesn't deserve you#ferrari you bastards 😡😤#it is not enough for me to suffer for men running after a ball now i am suffering for a driver in a car doing laps#ps: i might be wrong but i didn't like this guy named alonso#ah the rain is gone and the infernal heat is back 🫠#i'm sorry for the outburst#i am still sad about charles
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Snowblowers are the kind of tool that is born out of frustration. When you're out on the sidewalk, shovelling for the third time today, it can seem obvious that the best thing to do is to apply internal combustion power. And I agree: the best thing to do is to apply internal combustion power, in the direction of the airport, where you then use another internal combustion engine to leave this accursed province and go somewhere that's warm all the time and has cars that don't rust.
Barring that, though, snowblowers also seem like a good idea. You start the appliance, push it down the street, and all the snow becomes your neighbour's problem at incredible speeds. There's just one problem: snowblowers are a complex mechanical system that requires maintenance. In fact, their primitive small-enginey ways require more maintenance than a car, which is already well beyond the capability envelope of most so-called adults in the current era. Nobody knows how to rebuild a carburetor anymore, not when they can just spend another $600 to get another snowblower.
This means that in the spring, tons of snowblowers with dicky carbs, broken augers, or seized engines turn up on the curb or for a few pennies. These infernal machines let the owners down when they needed them most, and now the humans are getting their revenge. To me, it is shocking that someone would throw away a perfectly-good appliance just because it doesn't work at all in any way.
I like to scoop them up, give them a little freshening job, and flip them for a profit on the first week of a snowfall, when everyone is already sick of shovelling and wants to just buy something that makes the problem easier. Really, it's a public service. I don't want the sidewalks to be covered in snow because it makes it way harder for me to drive on them.
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Sleeping headcanons
Wyll
-Will hum you a soft tune and rub shapes into your back, while you're settling down for the night.
-Would definitely tell you stories of his life growing up and about his dreams for the future, while you listen closely to his breathing; until you fall asleep.
-Always kisses your forehead before falling asleep.
-Chuckles softly to himself every time you fall asleep before him and will take it as an opportunity to watch your sweet face sleeping; wondering if you're dreaming and what about.
Karlach
-Is a loud snorer and a very deep sleeper
-The perfect cuddler, especially for a harsh winter night; that infernal engine will actually be put to a good cause- comforting the two of you from the prickle of ice, snow and cold alike.
-During the summer, she tends to smother you a bit so you have to squirm your way out of her hold a few times if you're to get any rest at all
-Gets particularly soft and vulnerable when you tuck her hair behind her ears and tell her every little thing you love about her; it makes her feel like her engine is going to combust on site- but in the best way possible.
Shadowheart
-Plays with your hair and enjoys it when you do too
-She always prays right before and right after sleeping and always mentions you in her prayers; she wants you to be safe and healthy forever and always.
-On rare nights that she does have a nightmare (not doubt featuring wolves) she'll reluctantly wake you up and want you to spoon her and comfort her tenderly with words or reassurance; she knows it's silly that they are just wild dogs with no table manners but they terrify her to her core.
-She takes a couple of hours to fall asleep, so in the meantime she likes to read, meditate and admire every inch of you while you sleep or chill in your shared bedroll; it reminds her how lucky and blessed she is everyday.
Gale
-Snores mildly on nights his orb is particularly vexing but will still insist on you cuddling up together; he will apologise for all the trouble he knows he causes although he knows he can't control his situation or habits.
-You have a nightly ritual where you'll lay adjacent to each other and get lost in each others eyes, which tends to lead Gale to slowly getting flustered and eventually crumbling and being very keen for some sleep- he can't control his love or actions in relation to you very well so having you looking at him like that really switches something in him.
-If you ever have trouble falling or staying asleep he'll cast a sleep spell on you to make sure you will get your well deserved rest, and watch over you for a little while just in case something should happen or change.
-On nights where he struggles to sleep and you have long been taken ahold by sleep, he'll wonder off to a quiet place on the other side of camp and quietly play with his magic.
Lae'zel
-She's the type to kick and move around a lot in her sleep, maybe even growl- although she has no memory or idea about it; she would be too proud to admit it willingly anyways.
-Very light sleeper, from as early as she can remember she never wants to give any potential enemies the upper hand so she applies this too to her sleep- she will be the one with a blade to their throat.
-Initially she's not a huge fan of the cuddling idea but once you've been together for a while she starts warming up to the idea of it, and will try it once everyone is asleep; she's full of a soft joy and ever so slightly god forbid drops her guard.
-Falls asleep very easily despite her guard being up so much, she has a lot of pent up rage, anxiety and just general exhaustion so this wears a toll on her body taking her completely out before you even realize it.
Astarion
-Is prone to frequent nightmares/reliving his past with the Szarr household, which causes him to jolt awake and sometimes cry or scream.
-Otherwise he's a quiet sleeper and a wonderful cuddler, he always wakes up in the same position he fell asleep in.
-His favorite sleeping position is to have his head directly on your chest so he can listen to your heartbeat, he finds it incredibly comforting and reassures him that he's not alone and won't ever have to be again- not at night, not in the day and certainly not against his demons.
-Takes a minimum of 4 hours to fall asleep especially if he's left alone with his thoughts; they eat at him with anxiety and doubt- so he tends to get to bed much earlier than everyone else in camp.
Halsin
-Only tends to snore if he's been in wild shape for too long
-Wonderful big spoon, also loves to hold you against his chest while you lay by the camp fire and watch the stars and reminisce on stories long past.
-Like Astarion he relives/has nightmares about some of his traumatic experiences from his youth but he's much more discreet about it and will do his best not to wake you up; and instead will go for a brief walk to clear his head and take in the scent of nature and all its bounties.
-Adores it when you nuzzle your face into his neck and will absolutely make you lay completely all over him so he can be closer to you; unless it embarrasses you of course.
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Karlach: Birdie, my heart… do you know where it came from? Where Raphael got it from?
Falkwren: hm?… I don’t know, I only know Raphael gave it to you after I killed gortash when I thought he’d killed you.
Karlach: oh… well, I’m glad to have it.
*what really happened*
Falkwren: *in a blind rage holding gortash from behind so violently he’d dislocated the bastards arms* make good on your deal!!! NOW DEVIL!!!
Raphael: *smiling and swishing his tail* Oh, I do so love it when you growl like that~ Don’t worry, you’ve done me many great services, and I certainly won’t turn down a gift like this~ *raises his hand making gortash’s chest split open and his heart float out, it’s twisted sinister nature simply burning away and being restored to a pure and gentle thrum as it floats slowly over to Karlachs unconscious body*
Gortash: *mortified and in utter agony watching his heart literally leave him* wh-what are you doing?!
Raphael: making good on my deal, and- *raises his other hand making the heart disappear into Karlachs chest, and the infernal engine take its place floating above her, it’s gears and rivets popping and jamming violently as it burns up without her to contain it* Giving you a taste of your own medicine~ *smirks watching as gortash’s chest opens wider as the engine floats closer and closer, before wedging inside*
Falkwren: *let’s go of Gortash pushing him away before taking flight to get out of the blast zone*
Gortash: *coughs and flails his body helplessly trying to move his arms to claw at his chest as it begins to bubble and blister from the inside out* n-no! No! NGHOOO- *gargles out his last pained cries as his body boils and sizzles like burning a zit, before combusting into flames and fizzling out into a sad little pile of ash*
Falkwren: It’s done then… *lands and looks at the remains of Karlachs tormentor* you swear he’ll cause no more harm to anyone?…
Raphael: of course dear, we had a deal after all~ and one I intend to keep making good on, so long as you continue to… *wraps his tail around the Aasimars ankle* do the same?
Falkwren: *nods* you have my word… You’re lucky I have more stamina than Harleep. Though, I think he’ll enjoy having a new toy to play with.
Raphael: oh yes~ *glances over at Karlach hearing her stir and gasp for breath as her new heart begins to beat in her chest* Ah, but I suppose our fun must wait until later~ *lets go of his ankle but not without tracing the point up his leg a little* Until then~ *bows before disappearing*
Falkwren: *sighs and hurries to go help his friend*
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Reaally wondering how Karlach's infernal engine works besides just magic. I mean, that's a whole combustion engine welded into her chest. You can see through it and everything. As it pulsates you can see other parts follow that pattern, down to her stomach for example. Does she literally have fire in her veins?
Yes, magic, obviously, but still
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Aight, time for some Thanksgiving Baldur's Gate bc all I am doing is hanging about the house. :D
We left off having finally made it to relative safety in the Last Light Inn and there are a number of things we need to do here (particularly having a drink with Jaheira), but the first priority before everything else is:
I think we can finally get Karlach's quest moving. The tiefling refugees (what's left of them) are definitely here, so before we do anything else, I want to go find the mechanic and see if he can do something for her engine. Because Hector is, let's be honest, definitely kinda falling for her and we need to open her dialogue tree up. XD
And there he is!
Hanging out in the stables with a forge and several oxen.
This guy, Dammon, is such a good dude tbh - and apparently Karlach knows him!
"The weaponsmith, right? Drafted into the Blood War when your city was swallowed by Avernus. Not too different from my own story. Well done making it out alive!"
Dammon recognizes immediately that she had an infernal engine and that it's busted; he has a listen and already has some ideas. He mentions needing infernal iron, and Karlach gets all excited at once.
"Hey, Soldier - we've got some infernal iron already! Let's give it to him, hey?"
Hector, of course, gives it to him eagerly - he's as invested in this as Karlach is, almost.
A bit of a letdown on the animation here to be honest. Dammon hammered on the iron for a bit and then told her she'd have to install it, and there was a shot of Karlach, from behind, fiddling with something in her chest area, and then she was done. Feels a bit handwavy tbh.
On the bright side...she's thrilled with the progress and gets all smiley!
"That feels...good! I'm still burning hot as Hell's hole, but I feel less...changeable. Cheers, mate!"
"Pleasure. As for the heat, I haven't got any solutions now, but I"m not giving up. Could be if the combustion chamber had its own insulation, or if we had some kind of enchanted coolant... Let me sleep on it. I just might be able to work something out. Hopefully the next time I see you, I'll have something promising to report. I'll need more infernal iron either way, though, so keep your eyes open."
Perfect. We'll do the other stuff in Last Light and then take a long rest and come back and talk to him again and decide where to go from there. (I might cheat and find out where more infernal iron is because I am a weak woman ultimately. :P )
Obviously we talk to Karlach again after...
"Dammon's upgrade didn't cool me down, but it did juice me up! I don't think I've ever felt more powerful."
It's obvious, just from looking at her, how much better she feels. He can see the energy coursing through her, a brighter light in her eyes. She's ready to fight, ready to move, ready to do anything.
He is happy for her. Of course he is. This is safety; she's no longer in danger of the thing spiraling out of control.
And yet...without realizing it, he had built this moment up in his mind; they would find the infernal mechanic, and then Karlach would be healed. The heat would fade, and perhaps he could...put a hand on hers in a difficult moment, touch her shoulder for encouragement...hold her...be held by her...
The thoughts have been percolating for some time, unacknowledged, and suddenly are surging to the forefront, unable to be ignored any longer. She has been his comfort in these awful frontiers. For a man who has spent his life in secluded study, these are feelings he does not quite know yet how to process...but they are inescapable.
And the words slip from him, longing, bewildered, before he knows he is going to say them.
"I still can't touch you, though..."
Her head draws back, surprised - and then a slight smile tugs the corners of her mouth. "Do you want to?" she asks.
He feels his own all-too-human heart start to thump with a power to rival the engine's. His throat suddenly feels slightly too tight. "Of course I do..." he says softly.
He wishes he wasn't so acutely aware of Gale and Shadowheart standing nearby. Gale has turned and begun studying the wall of the stable with academic interest, but Shadowheart is watching this play out with an unreadable expression.
He isn't sure what he expects. Some dramatic declaration of feelings he doesn't have words for, perhaps. But Karlach's smile just deepens, and she tips her head to one side. "I'd like that," she says. Her eyes flick across him from feet to head, then lock back on his gaze, burning like infernal embers. "Now...let's find that infernal iron, before I overheat."
#bjk plays baldur's gate 3#hector carlisle#FINALLY i think we have the romance in motion!#let's gooooooooo
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Today in "shit I missed the briefing on", I'm trying to figure out if there's a better way to find out about garage sales than "drive around and hope", because much as I enjoy driving my little car, it's an infernal combustion engine and that means spewing emissions all everywhere when it's on, and I would prefer to only be doing that when absolutely necessary.
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Karlach, Zariel's personal pet, her lap dog, one of the strongest warriors within the Hells. If not THE STRONGEST. One of the perfectly crafted (former) Tiefling soldier's to serve in the Blood War. Growing up on the streets, fighting for survival, doing things in ill will in order to live & eat another day ... Karlach came to trust someone, Gortash, someone whom she looked up to. Had all this love & respect for. Had high standards of - Just to be thrown away like trash. All for the sake of a deal made with those devil scum. For POWER. Forced to endure such torture, suffering, terrible conditioning; just to be torn apart, reformed, rebuilt & personally hold a prototype of the Infernal Engine, rather than a heart. Karlach is then placed into the Blood War for 10 years ...
Until getting free, hitching a ride on a Nautilian craft. Followed by the devils in attempts to be brought back, she manages & steers clear as best as possible.
Rather than a break ... she became infected with a tadpole, just like the others aboard.
Now, Karlach seeks a life of freedom, despite this constant feeling of revenge lingering in the back of her mind. A feeling she has to fight & let go of everyday for the sake of happiness - instead of indulging in lost pleasures of life, she is once again forced to fight for survival. Killing each enemy the Arch-devil throws her way.
During this process, she searches for Infernal Iron, otherwise, the engine won't stabilize. Running on fumes until inevitably combusting.
Luckily, she doesn't have to bare this alone. She'd been blessed with meeting the Tav, along with Lae'Zel, Shadowheart, Astarion ... Wyll. They've managed to convince him that she were no threat to the innocents, rather he was manipulated. Thus going back on his contract, that irritable woman (Mizora), turns him into a devil, too.
Karlach is grateful for everyone's choices involving her, standing by them & fighting through this mess.
All she hopes for, is some kind of happy ending to this nightmare of ongoing horrors.
Her morals are quick to be undone, once presented with a now Archduke Gortash within the city of Baldur's gate.
She aims to tear him apart,
before becoming a pile of ash.
Divergence -> (wip)
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Three lawsuits filed against USPS over ICE-trucks
Three lawsuits filed against USPS over ICE-trucks
Three separate lawsuits were filed today against the U.S. Postal Service over the quasi-independent agency’s billion-dollar move to replace its aging delivery fleet with a majority of gasoline-powered vehicles (ICE = Infernal Combustion Engines).
The lawsuits say USPS failed to comply with the National Environmental Policy Act, including by using inaccurate or outdated information about the…
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“Have you heard about the lost continent of Leshp?” he said.
“Oh, yes. I did some sketches there a few years ago,” said Leonard. “Some interesting aspects, I recall. More tea? I fear you’ve let that one get cold. Was there anything you particularly wanted?”
The Patrician pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’m not sure. There is a small problem developing. I thought perhaps you could help. Unfortunately,” the Patrician glanced at the sketches again, “I suspect that you can.” He stood up, straightened his robe and forced a smile. “You have everything you require?”
“Some more wire would be nice,” said Leonard. “And I have run out of Burnt Umber.”
“I shall have some sent along directly,” said Vetinari. “And now, if you will excuse me–”
He let himself out.
Leonard nodded happily as he cleared away the teacups. The infernal combustion engine was carried to the heap of scrap metal beside the small forge, and he fetched a ladder and removed the piston from the ceiling.
He’d just opened out his easel to start work on a new design when he was aware of a distant pattering. It sounded like someone running but also occasionally pausing to hop sideways on one leg.
Then there was a pause, such as might be made by someone adjusting their clothing and getting their breath back.
The door opened and the Patrician returned. He sat down and looked carefully at Leonard of Quirm.
“You did what?” he said.
-Jingo, Terry Pratchett
#leonard da quirm#vetinari#Patrician#havelock vetinari#Jingo#Discworld#secret passages#Leshp#Terry Pratchett
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Lawrence Ferlinghetti, poet, artist, activist and founder of San Francisco’s famous City Lights Bookstore, who has died aged 101 of interstitial lung disease, was the least “beat” of the Beat Generation. In addition to a political commitment that blended anarchism and ecology – he loathed the motor car, calling it “the infernal combustion engine” – he had an instinctive business sense, founded on the philosophy of small is beautiful. City Lights, which he started in partnership with the magazine editor Peter Martin in the early 1950s, is still among the most welcoming of shops, with its tables and chairs, sheaves of magazines, and signs saying: “Pick a book, sit down, and read.”
Ferlinghetti discouraged interviewers and seekers of personal information. “If I had some biographical questionnaire to answer, I would always make something up,” he once said. Different reference books give different dates of birth, and one published story had it that he wrote his doctoral dissertation on the place of the pissoir in French literature. For many years, he listed his dog, Homer, as City Lights’ publicity and public relations officer. The poet recalled that Homer Ferlinghetti received regular mail, but that his public relations career stalled when he peed against a policeman’s leg. For this act of citizenship, he was immortalised by his master in the poem Dog.
Perhaps the facts made Ferlinghetti uncomfortable. He was born Lawrence Monsanto Ferling in Yonkers, New York, to a French mother, Albertine Mendes-Monsanto, and an Italian father, Carlo Ferlinghetti, an auctioneer, who had shortened the family name to Ferling. His parents were unable to care for him, however (sometimes Ferlinghetti said his father had died before his birth, sometimes after), and he was rescued by an aunt, Emily Monsanto. She took him to France, where they lived for his first six years. Returning to the US, Emily was employed as a governess by a family called Lawrence, a branch of the one that founded Sarah Lawrence College. “Then she left me there,” Ferlinghetti told an interviewer in 1978. “She just disappeared one day, and that family brought me up.”
His education was extensive. In the early 1940s, he attended the University of North Carolina, where a professor introduced him to the vernacular voice in poetry. This was a revelation: you didn’t have to sound like TS Eliot to write a poem. After wartime naval service had taken him back to Europe, Ferlinghetti enrolled at the Sorbonne, studying French literature while translating poets and novelists in his spare time. One day in a restaurant, he noticed that the paper tablecloth had a poem written on it, and that it was signed “Jacques Prévert”. He took the tablecloth with him as he left the restaurant, and some years later translated the poems in Prévert’s Paroles, eventually published, under the original title, by his own City Lights Books.
Back in New York again in 1946, Ferlinghetti went to Columbia University, preparing a thesis on Ruskin and Turner. He just missed meeting Allen Ginsberg and Jack Kerouac, who by then had either been banned from (Ginsberg) or had dropped out of (Kerouac) the university. Ferlinghetti did not team up with the Beats until eight years later, in San Francisco.
Drawn to Paris once more at the end of the 1940s, he met George Whitman, proprietor of the English-language bookshop opposite Notre Dame, which was first known as Le Mistral and is now Shakespeare and Company. Ferlinghetti looked to Whitman as an example when he opened City Lights Bookstore in 1953. It was the first all-paperback bookshop in the US, and, as Ferlinghetti said, “Once we opened, we just couldn’t get the doors closed.” He ran the place more in the spirit of public service than for profit, and by the 70s was content to live on his book royalties and plough the takings at the counter back into the shop.
Two years after starting City Lights, Ferlinghetti published his own collection of poems, Pictures of the Gone World, as No 1 in the Pocket Poets series, little four by five-inch, black-and-white paperbacks, which continue to appear today – one of the most popular literary lists of modern times. It was at this stage that he reverted to the original family name, Ferlinghetti. The next two Pocket Poets after Ferlinghetti were Kenneth Rexroth and Kenneth Patchen – as a result, both were drafted as “fathers of the Beat Generation”, somewhat to their displeasure – but it was the fourth in the series that ensured the list’s success. And for that, as Ferlinghetti was quick to point out, they had to thank the San Francisco police department.
The book was Howl and Other Poems, by Allen Ginsberg. Ferlinghetti had heard Ginsberg read the title poem at an event at the Six Gallery, San Francisco, in October 1955. On returning home, he sent the poet a message that consciously echoed the famous letter from Ralph Waldo Emerson to Walt Whitman after Emerson had read Whitman’s Leaves of Grass: “I greet you at the beginning of a great career.” The proprietor of City Lights added: “When do I get the manuscript?”
The book was published the following year, in an edition of 1,000 copies. However, after a failed attempt by the police to prosecute the bookseller for peddling obscene material, the reprints could not come fast enough. Ferlinghetti joked that the police “took over the advertising account and did a much better job”. Howl remains the bedrock of City Lights’ success as a publishing concern. It has now gone through well over 50 reprints, often more than one a year.
Ferlinghetti’s own poetry is irreverent, cajoling, casual and loose-limbed, sometimes excessively so. His models were Whitman and William Carlos Williams. In partnership with Rexroth, he took part in many poetry and jazz events on the West Coast, and the two made a record together. Ferlinghetti later became disillusioned with the poetry and jazz combination – “The poet ended up sounding like he was hawking fish from a street corner,” he said.
His verse on the page, though, suggests a spoken origin, as in his poem Underwear:
Underwear controls everything in the end
Take foundation garments for instance
They are really fascist forms of underground government ….
In addition to his many collections of verse, including A Coney Island of the Mind (1958), The Secret Meaning of Things (1969) and Endless Life (1981), Ferlinghetti wrote two novels: Love in the Days of Rage (1988), which is set during the student revolt of 1968 in Paris, and Her (1960), a more experimental work, a classic “poet’s novel”.
On one of his transatlantic voyages, Ferlinghetti met Selden Kirby-Smith (known as Kirby), whom he had had a passing acquaintance with at Columbia. They married in 1951 and had two children, Julie and Lorenzo, but were divorced in 1976.
In 1971, Nancy Peters, a former librarian at the Library of Congress, joined the company, and as time went on played a larger part in running the business, leaving Ferlinghetti to his creative work. She served as executive director from 1984 until 2007, and then continued to be involved as a co-owner of the business.
Ferlinghetti also had a serious interest in painting, and in 1990 the University of California mounted a retrospective. Many poems feature the names of painters, or employ a self-consciously “painterly” style, such as Short Story in a Painting of Gustav Klimt or Returning to Paris with Pissarro.
Ferlinghetti disliked being associated with the Beats, though he benefited from it, and, despite his love of Ginsberg, was apt to lament the commercialisation of the Beat Generation. Ginsberg, he said, “fabricated the whole thing out of his imagination”. But, happily contradicting himself, he could add, as late as 1996, “It’s still the only rebellion around.”
A collection of the correspondence between Ferlinghetti and Ginsberg was published in 2015, under the title I Greet You at the Beginning of a Great Career. At the same time, a selection of his travel journals appeared, Writing Across Landscapes.
Ferlinghetti expressed disappointment in other Beat writers for their unstructured approach to politics. He decided to travel to Cuba to see the Castro regime for himself and later wrote One Thousand Words for Fidel Castro, which ends, “Fidel … I give you my sprig of laurel.” Another political poem evoked a surrealistic scene by Goya, showing “freeways 50 lanes wide”, with “fewer tumbrils / but more maimed citizens / in painted cars”. In 2012 he declined to accept an award from the Hungarian Pen club, in protest at the policies of prime minister Viktor Orbán.
City Lights, open till midnight seven days a week, was Ferlinghetti’s way of infusing the spirit of resistance peacefully into the streets of San Francisco.
With Peters, he wrote a Literary Guide to San Francisco (1980), and in 1988 was responsible for the renaming of 10 streets after writers associated with the city, including Jack Kerouac Alley, partly composed of City Lights’ back wall. In 1994, he himself was similarly honoured by Via Ferlinghetti, the first time a street has been named after a living writer in the history of the city.
He is survived by his children and three grandchildren.
• Lawrence Monsanto Ferlinghetti, poet, artist and bookseller, born 24 March 1919; died 22 February 2021
Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at http://justforbooks.tumblr.com
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I’m sort of amazed at how little some colleagues seem to have thought about replacing the petrol-driven tools for electric ones.
the question came up this week since the union representative made it clear you cannot use the infernal (yes, infernal, totally works of the devil, end of) combustion engine tools for an entire workday and of course that throws all sorts of spanners in the works, thinking about health and safety like that. so, like even considered the question in any detail. i get that maybe you don’t want to think more about your job than the bare minimum but still...
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Deidara and Sasori d&d au!
Two more members of the Akatsuki Fellowship!! They are travelling around Khorvaire, in the world of Eberron!
au! Akatsuki D&D
Headcanons:
All the info related to places and clans is from the canonic lore of Eberron, or from interpretations that i’ve found here and there, and also a bit of my own homebrew lore. I’m gathering all the info and sources in my WorldAnvil page so you can check it out if you want :)
And this is the map with notes so you can pin all the locations.
This time I chose to put only the info relevant to the characters to make the post shorter. But still, this will be a LONG post so be prepared xD
Founding of the Akatsuki Fellowship
All the members of the party met in Sharn, the biggest city of the continent of Khorvaire. They were there for different reasons but ended up travelling together across the world.
Sasori the poison master
Sasori’s mother was a Talenta halfling. She and her family travelled to Gatherhold often to commerce with other tribes and foreigners.
There she met Sasori’s father, a medic from House Jorasco who was serving in a hospital in Gatherhold. They got married and months after Sasori was born.
Gatherhold is the biggest city in the Talenta Plains and the main enclave of the nomadic Talenta tribes, but halflings from all Khorvaire gather and make business there.
Sasori was born into the Jorasco House but was raised by his maternal family in Gatherhold. He learned the ways of the Talenta halflings and was given a Swindlespitter in his rite of passage, who he named Hiruko.
Swindlespitters are small sized dinosaurs with poisonous spit, that steal and eat other dinosaurs’ eggs. Talenta halflings craft masks to represent their bond with their mount, and they believe their spirits unite when they wear them. Sasori carved his mask in wood as it was typical from his tribe.
Short after bonding with Hiruko, his Mark of Healing appeared and Sasori was sent to Vedykar (Karrnath), the main enclave of House Jorasco, to learn medicine and alchemy. There he was tutored by his paternal grandmother Chiyo.
Sasori had a strong connection with his Mark of Healing, which made him a quick learner and proficient student in various medical fields. Even though he was doing great academically, Sasori was lonely and missed his parents, so Chiyo taught him the art of poison-making in an attempt to bond with her grandkid.
But Sasori’s loneliness took a toll on him and soon his feelings for House Jorasco and its medical monopoly began to sour. This made him start looking for new approaches to medicine.
Karrnath employs undead soldiers controlled by the Blood of Vol necromancers. And even though now this religion is looked down upon the Five Nations, Karrnath remains the stronghold of their faith and practitioners of its dark magic are seen in the streets of Vedykar.
Sasori encountered some Blood of Vol Seekers and quickly took interest in necromancy, their dark arts and the promise of immortality.
With this new reprehensible interest mixed up with his animosity towards House Jorasco, Sasori was distrusted amongst his peers and he ultimately left Vedykar.
Atur is a city of culture and arts, and has the largest worship site of the Blood of Vol in Khorvaire. In this city, the living and dead coexist in a daily basis.
Sasori settled in Atur for a while. There he studied the secrets of necromancy, even though he never showed interest in the Blood of Vol faith, and developed his medical skills to the point of becoming a master in poisons and drugs.
During one of his experiments he lost his right leg, and travelled to Korth to obtain a mystical engineered prosthesis from House Cannith. There he met the Warforged and got interested in their technology.
In the Last War, House Cannith produced the Warforged, mindless automatons made of wood and steel, but the use of magic turned them into fully sentient soldiers that can feel pain and emotion. Now they are considered people and have free will.
Back in Atur, he began to research about the Warforged to see if he could implement a similar technology to the dead and the living to make them more efficient. This lead him to apply to The True Shapers to study the art of woodcraft and forging.
The True Shapers is House Thuranni academy of crafts. This school rivals with House Phiarlan’s The Shapers, but The True Shapers is considered the best of its kind. (See Itachi and Kisame’s post for more info about the elven houses rivalry)
Sasori studied in The True Shapers for some time. But using necromancy and dark magic for crafting theater props was not of the like of his instructors, so he was invited to leave the academy and search a place where he could make a better use of his artistic skills.
He then travelled to Sharn, where he worked briefly for House Jorasco in the upper city hospital facilities before starting his own business.
He opened an atelier named The Puppeteer, in the Callestan district. He worked closely with the halfling Boromar clan, crafting poisons and artifacts for the cartel on demand, but he was also open to any other independent customers and criminal organizations.
Sasori became a great asset for all those who wanted to make deals with the Boromar or the Jorasco but were on their black list, like the smugglers and bounty hunters of House Tarkanan, or for those who just wanted to acquire a flask of dreamlily (drug).
With his many connections to important organisations, Sasori had eyes and ears in every House of Sharn yet he often visited The Shadowkeeper (who he well knew was a safe house for Thuranni spies and assassins) to catch up with what was going on outside of the city, and particularly in Atur.
Deidara the firecracker
Deidara's parents lived in a small village of Thrane. His birth was influenced by infernal powers and so he was born a Fernia planetouched tiefling.
Fernian tieflings’ abilities are tied to fire, their skin is fiery red or orange and warm to the touch, and when they grow angry the ambient temperature rises. Fernian tieflings are fiery and passionate, with an innate love for seeing things destroyed by flame.
His poor human parents, scared of their newborn child turned to The Church to seek help. The Church of the Silver Flame is the most extended religious community in Khorvaire and has its capital in Flamekeep (Thrane).
Though they believe in compassion and charity, the goal of the Church is to destroy all evil in the world and for that they employ any means they deem necessary, such as extermination.
The Church sees tieflings as potential threats if their power is not properly tamed, and so they established the tiefling community of Rellekor. Rellekor is a haven for planetouched tieflings where they are raised and taught to control their magic, but also a place to keep them away from the regular population.
When human families give birth to a tiefling, they will usually deliver them to The Church, who in turn will send them to Rellekor. That’s what happened to Deidara.
Deidara never met his parents, haven been raised and trained in Rellekor since he can remember, and was too boisterous for anyone to want to take him under their wing. So he never had anyone to look up to.
As a Fernian tiefling it was really hard for him to follow the path of light of the Silver Flame, and so he was constantly being grounded and chased around by the Templars for making things combust.
He was a mischievous kid with too much passion for fire and explosions, and so they named him "Firecracker Deidara".
But growing up, he took a liking for crafts and so he started studying pottery. His tutors were relieved to see that he had found a hobby that wasn't potentially destructive... until Deidara found a way to mix his sculptures with his fiery magic and called it art.
Thanks to his new explosive art, Deidara’s tutors reprimended him even more often, and this, far from making him embrace the path of light, made him see Rellekor's authorities with disdain and his behavior worsened.
Feeling trapped in the tiefling city, he decided to travel to Thaliost where he enrolled in The Shapers, House Phiarlan’s academy of crafts. He saw The Shapers as a way to escape from his life in Rellekor and maybe purchase the artistic career he dreamed of.
Deidara avidly studied the art of pottery in The Shapers, and even though he was a great potter, his artistic approach was too revolutionary for the academy and he was given the option to leave his explosions or leave The Shapers.
He then travelled to Atur in an attempt to enroll in The True Shapers, but received the same recommendation from his previous academy and thus his application was denied when he refused to abandon his fiery art.
Forever mad at the Thuranni for refusing him without giving his art an opportunity, Deidara left Atur in a hurry after burning down the reception hall of The True Shapers.
Being rejected from the best craftmanship academies and not wanting to return to Rellekor’s suffocating system, he wandered through many cities and villages of Khorvaire until he arrived in Sharn.
In Sharn he tried to make art for a living but few people were interested in his unstable creations. This, and his multiple altercations with the law and the cartels, pushed him to the lower levels of the city and ended up in the lawless Callestan district.
There he rented the tiny garret of The Shadowkeeper and made it his home and workshop... without knowing that the tavern was run by Thuranni elves.
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We have the first four members of the party!! Now i need the other four to show up too ;)
#naruto#akatsuki#sasori#sasori akasuna#deidara#au! akatsuki d&d#d&d#dungeons and dragons#eberron#dnd character#my art#We have the first four members of the party!!#Now i need the other four to show up too!#so i know i said i was going to post kakuzu and hidan after itachi and kisame but i wanted to draw deidara so bad#so i ended up posting them first hahahaha#next will be kakuzu and hidan!#and then konan and nagato!#i'm still very unsure about these two bc they will be a bit weird and complex so we will see#kakuzu and hidan are really interesting! and i've discovered new canon lore for them so i'm really happy about their characters!#i also loved to draw dino hiruko!#in this au sasori is not a puppeteer per se but he is interested in dominating the dead and this kind of necromancer stuff#deidara is a rebellious artist and sasori sticks with the academia#i hope you like this designs#and tysm if you read all the headcanons!!!#i know they are long but i really enjoy sharing them with you!
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bro i am loving all the promare flooding my dash! do you happen,,, do have any good (especially the weird ones) fics to rec? the promare ao3 looks,,, scary
always happy to flood people’s dashes with my various hyperfixations lmao
i dunno what in particular you mean by “the weird ones,” but i have Several fic recs lmaoooooo
long post, recs under cut
Gueira and Meis need more love 2020
“An Itch Into a Bruise” — letbygones
Summary: “In which Gueira's not used to his flames yet, and Meis isn't used to holding back.” Gueira/Meis, pre-canon, just some fucking excellent prequel content for some rowdy boys who deserve more attention
“something like a family” — annie_writes
Summary: not incredibly shippy but Galolio and Gueira/Meis, centers on Galo and Gueira, Gueira went through. Some Shit, Man,,,,,
Galo and Lio are idiots and they deserve each other
“Love Between Strangers” — SerotoninShift
Summary: Galolio, post-canon, idiots to lovers, the banter
“Set the Night on Fire” series — SerotoninShift
Summary: Galolio, post-canon, 4 fairly spicy fics, i am an absolute slut for this author’s dialogue and headcanons, i would eat these fics if i could
“Don’t Stop Believin’“ series — PenguinMerchant
Summary: Galolio, post-canon, 4 fics of varying levels of spiciness, i live for gueira and meis opening a biker bar, very funny situations and good dialogue/characterization
“Symbiotic” series — ariohsix
Summary: Galolio, three post-canon one-shots, AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES,,,,,,
“Sacred Enough” — Sour_Idealist
Summary: Galolio, post-canon, Lio officiating a Burnish wedding, funny and fluffy and sweet
That good, good Lio angst and h/c content
“Punch Through the Air” — Zharena
Summary: Galolio, post-canon a year later, Lio please go to a therapist
“Warm Blanket” — surveycorpsjean
Summary: Galolio, post-canon, some more good good “and they were roommates” content
“Promises” — slimecrime
Summary: Galolio, Gueira/Meis, post-canon, Galo can’t always help Lio and that’s okay
“Infernal Combustion Engine” — evr
Summary: Galolio, post-canon, Lio is prosecuted for Mad Burnish’s “crimes”
“Stay With Me” — evr
Summary: sequel to “Infernal Combustion Engine,” tw: suicide (Kray), marriage proposals and discrimination and coping poorly (oh my!), actually focuses more on Galo’s traumatic relationship with Kray
More imaginative/AU-ish content that is currently unfinished but Very Good
“Something Human” — hyrulehobbit
Summary: Galolio, post-canon and sequely, don’t you wanna go apeshitt,,,,,,,,
“In Body, Mind, and Soul” — Mirrorkirby
Summary: Galolio, post-canon, being in a soul robot together gave them a soul-mind bond that is questionably convenient because they’re idiots
“Where There’s Smoke...” — akaDG
Summary: Galolio, post-canon, oh boy the ANGST, Lio is Very Injured and Galo is Very Dumb
#promare#fic recs#i hope that's helpful!#sorry this took so long for me to answer lmao#i wanted to be thorough#anonymous#jordan answers
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