Hey! Are there blacksmiths in your story? I'm a hobbyist blacksmith and I'm here to help!
Blacksmithing is one of those things that a lot of people get wrong because they don't realize it stuck around past the advent of the assembly line. Here's a list of some common misconceptions I see and what to do instead!
Not all blacksmiths are gigantic terrifying muscly guys with beards and deep voices. I am 5'8, skinny as a twig, have the muscle mass of wet bread, and exist on Tumblr. Anybody who is strong enough to pick up a hammer and understands fire safety can be a blacksmith.
You can make more than just swords with blacksmithing. Though swords are undeniably practical, they're not the only things that can be made. I've made candle holders, wall hooks, kebab skewers, fire pokers, and more. Look up things other people have made, it's really amazing what can be done.
"Red-hot" is actually not that hot by blacksmith terms. when heated up, the metal goes from black, to red, to orange, to yellow, to white. (for temperature reference, I got a second degree burn from picking up a piece of metal on black heat) The ideal color to work with the metal is yellow. White is not ideal at all, because the metal starts sparking and gets all weird and lumpy when it cools. (At no point in this process does the metal get even close to melting. It gets soft enough to work with, but I have never once seen metal become a liquid.)
Blacksmithing takes fucking forever. Not even taking into account starting the forge, selecting and preparing metal, etc. etc. it takes me around an hour to make one (1) fancy skewer. The metals blacksmiths work with heat up and cool down incredibly fast. When the forge is going good, it only takes like 20 seconds to get your metal hot enough to work with, but it takes about the same time for it to cool down, sometimes even less.
As long as you are careful, it is actually stupidly easy to not get hurt while blacksmithing. When I picked up this hobby I was like "okay, cool! I'm gonna make stuff, and I'm gonna end up in the hospital at some point!" Thus far, the latter has yet to occur. I've been doing this for nearly a year. I have earned myself a new scar from the aforementioned second degree burn, and one singe mark on my jeans. I don't even wear gloves half the time. Literally just eye protection, common sense, and fast reflexes and you'll probably be fine. (Accidents still happen of course, but I have found adequate safety weirdly easy to achieve with this hobby)
A forge is not a fire. The forge is the thing blacksmiths put their metal in to heat it up. It starts as a small fire, usually with newspaper or something else that's relatively small and burns easily, which we then put in the forge itself, which is sort of a fireplace-esque thing (there's a lot of different types of forge, look into it and try to figure out what sort of forge would make the most sense for the context you're writing about) and we cover it with coal, which then catches fire and heats up. The forge gets really hot, and sometimes really bright. Sometimes when I stare at the forge for too long it's like staring into the sun. The forge is also not a waterfall of lava, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.
Welding and blacksmithing are not the same thing. They often go hand-in-hand, but you cannot connected two pieces of metal with traditional blacksmithing alone. There is something called forge welding, where you heat your metal, sprinkle borax (or the in-universe equivalent) on it to prevent the metal from oxidizing/being non-weldable, and hammer the pieces together very quickly. Forge welding also sends sparks flying everywhere, and if you're working in a small space with other blacksmiths, you usually want to announce that you're welding before you do, so that everyone in a five-foot radius can get out of that five-foot radius. You also cannot just stuck some random pebbles into the forge and get a decent piece of metal that you can actually make something with, Steven Universe. It doesn't work like that, Steven Universe.
Anvils are really fucking heavy. Nothing else to add here.
Making jewelry is not a blacksmithing thing unless you want jewelry made of steel. And it will be very ugly if you try. Blacksmithing wasn't invented to make small things.
If there's anything here I didn't mention, just ask and I'll do my best to answer.
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more clone^2
snippet 21: Danny is Bruce Wayne's Clone and--
Star, with the rest of the A-List girls: alright ladies! it's time for our quarterly 'cutest boys' list! Now I'll get straight to the point, in our number one spot is--
All girls, in unison: Danny Fenton
Star, writing it down on a whiteboard: and for our number two spot--
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Snippet 22: clone meet clone
Ellie, dramatically: Danny!
Danny, equally dramatic: Ellie!
Ellie, pushing past him and looking around: where is he! i wanna see the little guy!
Damian, with a sword, brandishing it dangerously: *in arabic* don't come any closer, stay back!
Danny, wrapping an arm around Ellie's waist and pulling her back: woah, woah - he's still adjusting to everything
Danny, turning towards Damian with his google translate open: [please don't stab her. this is Ellie my clone.]
Damian, lowering his sword in disbelief: 'there's MORE of you?
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Snippet 23: Ellie has the same epiphany as Danny
Ellie:...hey Danny
Danny, pouring over his arabic book: hm
Ellie: since I'm your clone, and you're a clone of Bruce Wayne, and Damian is a clone of Damian Wayne, does that technically mean I'm his mom - uh. dad-mom?
Danny:
Ellie:...its a fair question
Danny: .....*deep sigh* you're his cousin until further notice.
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Snippet 24: wait for me ii (hadestown, live vers.)
(i'm not sure of the context, but i've been thinking of Danny saying this to Damian during a serious moment for days. the snippet title is the song that the dialogue below is from)
Danny, fixing up Damian's wraith suit: the meanest dog you'll ever meet
Danny, zipping up damian's jacket: it ain't the hound dog in the street. he bares some teeth and tears some skin, but brother,
Danny, adjusting Damian's gloves, pausing to look him in the eye: that's the worst of him.
Danny, he holds a finger up to Damian's eyes and points it at him: the dog you really got to dread, is the one that howls inside your head
Danny, grabbing damian's mask and smoothing it over his eyes: it's him whose howling drives men mad, and a mind to its undoing
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Snippet 25: Danny is Bruce Wayne's clone-- (Battinson Vers*)
Ember, in the middle of a fight with Phantom + Wraith:
Ember, knocks off Phantom's mask for the first time: lets see what ugly mug you're really hiding under there, Phantom--
Phantom: *the wettest, most pathetic looking pretty boy on the planet*
Ember:
Phantom, dryly: what, did your mic die out or something? all that caterwauling finally make you lose your voice
Wraith, unsheathing his sword: *vibrating with baby brother rage bc he knows EXACTLy why Ember is silent*
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Snippet 26: Damian is finally starting to play nice :)
Dany: hey... guys.... whatcha doing
Damian, hanging out with Sam: Me and Manson are plotting ways to crush the Mayor's plan to cut budget funding for the city parks and cut down the native trees
Danny: oh, i see.... is this safe?
Sam: probably
Danny: hm.
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Snippet 27: digging up cold case
Danny: ....if Damian is out with Sam tonight with their plot against the mayor....
Danny, turning towards his desk: then that means I can work some more on Mrs. Witherbury's murder case that she asked me to solve without Dames guilt-tripping me into bed :)
Danny, settling down at his desk with a thermos full of coffee: i'm glad sam and damian are finally getting along
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Snippet 28: sparring
Damian, frowning: your reflexes are incredible but your combat is downright awful, brother. it's truly a miracle i didn't skewer you upon our first meeting
Danny, got his ass kicked by his 7yo brother: *groaning in pain* not everyone has super secret assassin training, Damian. And I don't really have time to actually practice anything.
Damian: Mrs. Fenton knows martial arts and her form is proficient enough, I'm sure she would be delighted to teach you if you asked. I will join since I need to keep my skills sharp and my training was unfinished when I arrived here.
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Snippet 29: daytime surprise
Phantom, fighting Skulker in broad daylight: *under his breath* at least Lancer's english test will get canceled for this...
Phantom, dodging a blast from Skulker: *in ASL, furious* don't you have anything better to do, you fuck!?
Skulker: foolish ghost child, speak! I know you're capable of it - speak before you lose the ability to
Phantom: *flips him off instead*
Wraith, sending back a ecto-blast with his sword: please pay attention, phantom
Phantom, doubletaking: *in a hissed whisper* what are you doing here!? it's a school day, you should be at school!
Wraith: Tt. If the boot fits.
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Snippet 30: guilt
Danny with his head on his desk, his elbows propped up as he massages his hands: hn
Damian, lurking to the side with a guilty look on his face:
Damian: can i....
Danny, silently holding his hand out to Damian: hrm
Damian, immediately taking it and doing the massages + finger exercises: ...im sorry
Danny: hm... I forgive you
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As I looked, the eyes saw the sinking sun, and the look of hate in them turned to triumph.
But, on the instant, came the sweep and flash of Jonathan's great knife. I shrieked as I saw it shear through the throat; whilst at the same moment Mr. Morris's bowie knife plunged into the heart.
It was like a miracle; but before our very eyes, and almost in the drawing of a breath, the whole body crumble into dust and passed from our sight.
I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never could have imagined might have rested there.
I don't know what's getting to me about this scene this time around, but I can't help imagining a cinematic beat in which Dracula, head cleaved from his shoulders, steel through his heart, looks to Jonathan. Fire-eyed, white-haired, triumphant against his personal nemesis and would-be keeper at last.
For just a moment, Dracula is whoever he was before he was an inhuman monster. A great man? A warlord? A hero or a horror in human flesh depending on the history. But a man again, whatever else. He looks at Jonathan.
Maybe he sees him.
Maybe he sees someone else. Some long ago youth who lived and died and was remade in profane immortality for the sake of supernatural strength, taught by ancient Powers beneath a distant mountain. A youth who would sell his soul to accomplish his goal.
As the sun sets red, Dracula sees that long-ago youth victorious but not yet damned--the man conquering the monster--and, for the first time in centuries, thinks he sees his reflection. The hunter, the warrior, the victor. How strange not to see him in armor. When did you change your sword? Ah, well.
You did it just the same. You did it...
(What was his name before all this? Memory is cracking, turning to powder in his mind. His name is...his name was...)
((No, no, old man. He is not you. You know. You know he is--he's--))
Voiceless, his lips move. Red a final time as his throat's foam bleeds up and out of the stained mouth.
Thank you, my friend.
There is time enough to smile before he crumbles away to sleep.
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