#Huger Foote

[satkru]

Consider yourself lucky

heian era sukuna x male reader

A/n: I love glazing sukuna idc what anyone says sukuna is literally so fine and he has done nothing wrong, also i js wanna say ty to @ — mmonikurr for helping me w this :)

Cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT : dub-con , belly distortion , two cocks (sukuna) , manhandling , fear play , forced eye contact , begging , reader is stated to have a “feminine figure” but u don’t have to have one if u don’t want one 👍🏽 , praise kink (if u squint hard enough) , mentions of mpreg

Y/n’s eyes fixated on his once beloved clan ‘s home, his breathing came out raggedy and rushed, as if he just ran a marathon.

Who could’ve done such destruction on this big village?

Through the smoke y/n saw a large figure emerge, along with a slightly smaller figure walking beside it. The both of them bared no wounds and actually looked cleaner than ever.

Y/n slowly raised himself from his knees and began steadily walking backwards, keeping his eyes on the two figures who chatted away in front of his burning clan.

Y/n descended into the forest slowly but surely, occasionally making sure his footing was in the correct position. CRACK! Y/n’s face went pale as he realized what he had done.

A stick had perfectly positioned itself below y/n’s foot and snapped in half, causing the big sound. The man wasted no time in running as fast as he could, using the bases of the trees as small boosts as he booked it.

But tonight was not y/n’s night, as he then tripped and fell over an uprooted branch. Fear and adrenaline coursed through y/n’s veins but there was no time to get up, as both the large figure and smaller figure steadily made their way towards the fallen man.

Y/n did nothing but close his eyes and pray to himself that he would be able to survive this night and be able to see another day. The footsteps gradually became closer until they finally stopped by his feet.

“Uraume, check this boy for any injuries” a deep and menacing voice spoke, y/n heard “uraume” hum before being forced onto his knees and having to look into uruame’s red eyes.

Y/n stared into their eyes as they thoroughly checked his face, uruame’s fingers gracefully floated over y/n’s face, taking their time to touch and probe at the man’s face, occasionally rubbing some dirt off of y/n’s face.

“He’s all clear sir” uraume spoke before back to where they once stood. “Good to hear, I don���t want my playthings to be ugly with a face full of scars” the large figure walked towards y/n, their extremely buff and big figure making the smaller male on the ground cower more into the dirt in fear.

“Get up” the bigger male’s voice commanded. Y/n basically jumped to his feet, looking up at the other man’s face with tears in his eyes. “Hm, what a precious boy we have, truly much better looking than all the others” y/n’s cheeks became a sweet pink color as the compliment sunk into his skin.

A pair of large and course hands wrapped themselves around y/n’s waist, causing the male to gasp from the sudden touch. Another pair of hands caressed y/n’s face, “my name is sukuna ryomen , but to you, it ‘s master, got it?” Y/n nodded as soon as sukuna finished his introduction.

“What a feminine body you have.. are you sure you’re not a girl?” Y/n tensed up, “no master.. im no girl..” the smaller male said through trembling lips and in a tiny voice.

Sukuna hummed, “what a shame, I would’ve impregnated you the moment you said you were” y/n ‘s face grew hot with the thought of someone more huger than him rearranging his insides.

“Guess you’ll have to do for now” y/n let out a surprised gasp as he then felt his robe being undone and being swept off his shoulders. The cold air of the night breezed over y/n ‘s exposed skin, making him shiver.

“Aw, want me to warm you up sweet boy?” Sukuna ‘s words were laced with lust and desire, y/n opened his mouth to respond but was then cut off as sukuna ‘s bottom pair of arms lifting him off the ground as if he were nothing.

Y/n and sukuna were now at eye level with each other. Sukuna ‘s four eyes staring deep within the naked man ‘s soul, y/n couldn’t help but avert his gaze away from sukuna ‘s deformed face.

Causing sukuna to get irritated and grab y/n ‘s face with one of his many hands, “look at me, boy, I am your savior, I am your god, so you will treat me as so”.

Y/n could do nothing but whimper and force himself to once again look into sukuna ‘s eyes. “Good boy” ryomen purred, his already cocky smirk growing even more cockier by the second as he looked at y/n’s fearful face.

And just like a god, sukuna dropped y/n back on the forest floor because “mortals have no business being on par with their gods”.

The “god” placed a hand on y/n ‘s head, grabbing a fistful of hair and tugging him more close to his upper inner thigh. “As a servant, you must do everything I say, alright?” Y/n nodded eagerly.

“Hm, that’s what I like to see, now, as your first task for me, you will suck my cock. Got it?” Sukuna watched as y/n shakily nod and reach up to untie his pants lace.

Y/n then grabbed the hem of sukuna’s pants and slowly pulled them down, revealing not only one, but two extremely long and thick cocks. Drool dripped out the corners of y/n ‘s mouth as he stared intently at the two cocks.

Sukuna chuckled, “hasn’t anyone taught you staring is rude?” Y/n blushed and bowed his head, “m-my apologies.. master..” , sukuna chuckled and pulled on y/n ‘s hair. Causing the man to yelp and grab onto sukuna ‘s strong thighs.

Y/n looked up into ryomen ‘s demanding eyes, “well? Get to it slut” , y/n let out a quick ‘yes master!’ Before wrapping his lips around the tip of one of sukuna ‘s cocks while groping the base of the other.

Sukuna groaned as he then moved his hands that were in y/n ‘s hair down to the base of his neck. Y/n licked and slurped on sukuna ‘s big and girthy tip, coating it entirely in saliva.

“Fuck.. go down that shaft, I need to feel my head hit the back of that whorish mouth” y/n did what was asked of him and began to slowly deepthroat sukuna ‘s cock. Gaining a loud and drawn out groan out of sukuna.

Soft and whispered curses leaked out of sukuna ‘s mouth as y/n began to bob his head on sukuna’s cock, making his way down the base.

While y/n worked on sukuna’s top cock, he began to stroke the bottom one at a slow pace, making sure to fondle the balls as well.

“Fuck.. I’m c-cumming.. don’t even try to pull back now, you’re going to take my entire load deep in that slutty throat of yours” and just like that, sukuna came in y/n ‘s mouth, coating his once pink insides a creamy white.

Sukuna ‘s second cock spurted it’s essence onto y/n ‘s bare chest, some dripping down to his abdomen and down his own cock.

Y/n ‘s pushed himself off sukuna ‘s cock with a gasp, coughing up some left over cum that got stuck in his throat. “We’re not done yet boy, get up”.

The cum-covered man got up, his legs trembling as if he were a newly born fawn. Sukuna ‘s bottom arms wrapped themselves around y/n ‘s waist, hoisting him up to where his head laid comfortably between sukuna ‘s pecs.

Sukuna’s hands then slowly slid down towards y/n ‘s ass, taking the two cheeks into his palms. Spreading them out enough to where y/n ‘s hole was visible. Sukuna then took one of his hands off of y/n ‘s ass to perfectly position one of his cocks directly below y/n ‘s hole.

The sound of the combination of a wet cock and a dry hole filled the quiet forest, along with a surprised moan from y/n. Sukuna smirked at y/n ‘s response, but he wanted a more extreme reaction.

A light went off above sukuna ‘s head as an idea popped into his malicious mind. Ryomen thrusted his hips up, making contact with y/n ‘s plush cheeks. Y/n through his head back as he let out a much more pleasurable and loud moan than before, along with that, a string of a certain warm and creamy white substance squirted out of the tip of y/n ‘s cock.

“Cant even handle a single thrust? This isn’t looking good for you boy” sukuna said with a snicker, y/n was about to argue with him but decided to kept his mouth shut. Ryomen slid y/n back up, earning a groan out of him. Sukuna then grabbed his other cock and positioned beside his other cock.

He slid the tip in, causing y/n to dig his face into the crevasse of sukuna ‘s pecs. And with another thrust, ryomen ‘s other cock had successfully entered y/n ‘s already filled hole.

Y/n clawed at sukuna ‘s arms, drawing a bit of blood. The pain that sukuna was suppose to be feeling was replaced with ecstasy and the desire for more. MORE pain, MORE pleasure.

“Ready?” Sukuna asked, but didn’t wait for y/n ‘s response. Sukuna slid y/n up one last time before delivering a powerful thrust into his hole. Y/n cried out, tears forming in his eyes from the thrust of sukuna ‘s hips.

Ryomen continued to deliver harsh and heavy thrusts into y/n ‘s already recked hole, y/n begged for sukuna to stop, but he was already too far gone in pleasure to be able to hear y/n ‘s pleads.

Y/n felt the many veins that drove along sukuna ‘s long and hard cocks, the veins were enough to drive y/n insane as they rubbed against the tight and gummy walls of his insides.

Sukuna ‘s cocks twitched, signaling that he was close to his release. Y/n sobbed as he realized that he would be downgraded to nothing but a cumslut and a cocksleeve for a curse that was way more stronger than him in every way.

“Take my kids into that precious hole of yours slut, maybe then you could actually gain a purpose for something” y/n knew what “purpose” he would gain, he would become a mother to children he could not bare.

With a couple more thrusts, y/n felt sukuna ‘s cocks unload their last gallon of cum into his once pure hole.

Sukuna breathed heavily, trying to catch an ounce of fresh air in the steamy and hot ecosystem him and his new slut had made.

“Consider yourself lucky I didn’t kill you, but now, you must work for me, you’ll worship me and my existence altogether, your nothing without me, your only purpose for me is to be a hole I can put my two cocks in and bare my kids in that stomach of yours” sukuna whispered delicately into y/n ‘s ear. Causing the poor man to shiver and shakily nod.

“Uraume, mind cleaning me and my new toy?”

[saintsenara]

Not from the ask list but the characters in ur fics as Irish counties and why?

anon, this has absolutely sent me. i have genuinely never seen something more up my alley.

let's start with characters we can pull from the series for ireland's six superior counties, shall we...

antrim = oliver wood

a county full of lads who've never met a spivvy tracksuit they don't think is the height of fashion, and who have a vastly inflated sense of their success at sports.

armagh = tom riddle

armagh has a [deservedly] bloody reputation. he could settle down in the murder triangle. he'd like that.

down = draco malfoy

people who live in co. down really like thinking they're better than the rest of us just because it's easy for them to get to belfast [lads, how's that something to boast about?], so they have to be the series' whiniest flop.

fermanagh = rubeus hagrid

fermanagh is full of docile lads who build things, in my experience.

londonderry = ron weasley

canonically gorgeous, gorgeous girlies live in this fine county - by which i mean, of course, that i do. we deserve to be represented by the series' most gorgeous girly. and a ginger sweetheart with six siblings [so you know which side of the sectarian divide his parents are on...] would go down a storm with our mams.

tyrone = harry potter

my brother once had his nose broken in a pub in strabane, which doesn't sound particularly interesting until you realise that my brother is a priest. by which i mean - a county filled with people who are reckless, quick-tempered, and always ready to throw hands? it can only be represented by one man...

---

and then the rest...

carlow = quirinus quirrell

the most interesting thing there is a big rock.

cavan = percy weasley

everyone i've ever met from cavan has been really boring and really tight. so there's that.

clare = ginny weasley

because it's gorgeous, in a not like other girls way.

cork = albus dumbledore

look at this canon line and tell me dumbledore's not a cork man... "In fact, being — forgive me — rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger.” 

donegal = sybill trelawney

always away with the fairies up there... and always drunk too.

dublin = walburga black

everyone you've ever met who lives in dublin is genuinely shocked to discover that the rest of the world exists beyond the m50. it's not not giving "has never set foot in muggle london and would die before she did".

galway = arthur and molly weasley

galway is the home of the nation's sophisticated [and, apparently, sexually adventurous] culchies - which fits two people from clearly quite distinguished backgrounds who nonetheless live the way they do...

kerry = gilderoy lockhart

you will never see american tourists get scammed more glamorously than in kerry.

kildare = regulus black

considerably less interesting than - and devoid of identity in comparison to - its neighbour, dublin.

kilkenny = charlie weasley

all they do is have red hair and hurl.

laois = daphne greengrass

on account of her irrelevance.

leitrim = sally-ann perks

on account of her irrelevance.

limerick = bellatrix lestrange

limerick used to be known as "stab city". she'd fit right in.

longford = mungundus fletcher

gombeen men abound.

louth = myrtle warren

because they [by which i mean the two people i know who were born there...] are always fucking moaning.

mayo = remus lupin

perpetually mopey, unless they reckon they're great at something.

meath = cormac mclaggen

they wish they were as class as the lads in dublin.

monaghan = cuthbert binns

genuinely couldn't locate it on a map.

offaly = grawp

i mean, who fucking knows? the entire place is a bog.

roscommon = aberforth dumbledore

you can guess why...

sligo = fred and george weasley

wheeler dealers, the lot of them.

tipperary = fleur delacour

the home of gorgeous, gorgeous girlies with striking accents.

waterford = dobby

they love a good strike.

westmeath = hermione granger

not somewhere you'd expect you'd choose to live if you were a bit of a know-it-all. and yet.

wexford = neville longbottom

they love to bang on about the soil.

wicklow = marge dursley

she drives a range rover and looks down on anyone who farms, change my mind.

[other answers from this ask game]

[nordleuchten]

With a Distance of 47 Years

1777

Ascending the river in a canoe, his foot touched at length the American soil, and he swore that he would conquer or perish in that cause. Landing at midnight at Major Huger’s house, he found a vessel sailing for France, which appeared only waiting for his letters. Several of the officers landed, others remained on board, and all hastened to proceed to Charlestown. This beautiful city is worthy of its inhabitants, and everything there announced not only comfort but even luxury. Without knowing much of M de Lafayette, the generals Howe, Moultrie, and Gulden received him with the utmost kindness and attention.

Marquis de La Fayette, Memoirs, Correspondences and Manuscripts of General Lafayette, Vol. 1, Craighead and Allen, New York, 1837, p. 14-15.

1824

The next morning at day-break, the pilot came on board, and in a few hours we could easily distinguish the fresh verdure which adorns Staten-island, the charming white dwellings which enlivened it, and the movement of its inhabitants, which the expectation of some great event had caused in all haste to run down to the shore. Already the sea around us was covered with a multitude of long, light and narrow boats, managed by vigorous, active men, the neatness of whose dress and the propriety of whose language contrasted singularly with the ideas which in Europe are generally associated with the sight of mere sailors. As soon as one of these boats arrived near the ship, her course was slackened those on board cast anxious looks towards our deck, inquiring of our sailors if Lafayette were among us; as soon as answered in the affirmative, joy was expressed in all their features; they turned quickly to each other, shaking hands and congratulating themselves on the happiness they were about to enjoy; then returning towards the vessel, they asked a thousand questions, relative to the general’s health, how he had borne the voyage &c. but without noise or disorderly impatience. We heard them rejoicing among themselves that Lafayette’s voyage had been pleasant and quick, that his health was good and that the wishes of their fellow citizens were about to be gratified; and all as if they had been the children of one family, rejoicing at the return of a much-loved and long-expected parent. While contemplating this novel and interesting scene, the thundering of cannon called my attention in another direction; this was from the artillery of Fort Lafayette, which announced the arrival of the Cadmus to the city of New York. (…) The general accepted this invitation, and in a few minutes afterward, we were on shore, where we found the second officer of a great republic, on foot, without his coat, and his head covered with a military cap, cordially greeting his old friend, who on the morrow was to commence, amidst twelve millions of freemen, the most brilliant, and at the same time, the purest of triumphs. (…) But the report of Lafayette’s arrival was quickly spread over the great city of New York, and the bay was already covered with boats crowds of citizens, who hastened to Staten-island to give him the first salutation, that WELCOME, which the whole nation afterwards repeated with so much enthusiasm.

Auguste Levasseur, Lafayette in America in 1824 and 1825; or Journal of Travels in the United States, Translated from the French, Volume 1, New-York, 1829, p. 13-14.

And it should be noted here, that the memories of La Fayette's fellow travelers in 1777 were not quite as enthusiastic as La Fayette's own.

[the-blackbird-roleplays]

Nolan gripped Tali tightly to him as she came, stopping his teasing fingers from moving as his Quarian lover shook and quaked in bliss. He grinned as she came, slowly slipping his fingers from her backside as he stood and carried her to their bedroom... his lips gently adoring her neck and shoulder before gingerly kissing her cheek.

"So, my darling Tali wants a baby... I've been wanting to start a family with you for so damned long I almost forgot what it was like to not have those thoughts swimming in my head."

Nolan smiled as he slowly set a still-quivering Tali on the bed, stripping everything off of him and standing before her at the edge of the bed, the city's night lights giving his body a gentle glow as he smiled down at her in huger and love... his foot-long and throbbing cock pulsating at his hips.

Quarian Love

Closed with @the-blackbird-roleplays

Continued from here

Nolan sighed as he placed his firearms away, the soldier who'd served alongside Tali on the Normandy during their tour simply smiling as he heard her small tirade. He was thankful they'd set up his apartment on the Citadel as a clean room, meaning Tali's Quarian physiology wouldn't be offended by anything once the door was closed.

"Tali..." He smiled softly as he walked over and gently gripped her hand... before tugged her snugly to him. He hugged her with one arm around her waist, his other hand pressing to the middle of her back, looking into her eyes through her helmet. "Darling... You do realize you can't stay mad at anything. If you do... I won't be able to stop myself from embracing you. You are simply... too painfully adorable."

"That bosh'tet was racist and refused to serve us just because I am a Quarian!" Tali huffed angrily... And you could almost see her cheeks puffing behind her helmet

Thanks to the war, gene treatments had been found and Quarians have been able to slowly repair their genetics. There was no guarantee any Quarian in the current generation, or the next, would be able to live their lifes without their suits at all... But there be able to handle sickness oh so much better

She gave a huff as she nuzzled against him, resting her helmet against his shoulder

"Just... Very frustrating."

[is2daytuesday]

Snow Wall, 2015   

 Huger Foote photography

[path-of-my-childhood]

Taylor Swift Starts Frenzy at Indie Record Stores With Surprise Signed ‘Folklore’ CDs

By: Samantha Hissong for Rolling Stone Date: August 10th 2020

Taylor Swift is keeping things indie. On Thursday morning, a multitude of indie record stores across America took to social media to share that signed Folklore CDs “just showed up” - as Chicago’s Reckless Records put it - at the door.

Fans were instructed that the supply was limited to one per customer and that the situation was first-come-first-served. Holds and phone orders were not allowed. According to a Newbury Comics representative, a UMG rep had gotten in touch with the store about the plan earlier this week. “Fan reaction has been through the roof,” the Newbury rep tells Rolling Stone. And that’s not an overstatement, considering that many locations sold out almost instantly.

A representative from Bull Moose, which has locations in Maine and New Hampshire, tells Rolling Stone that one of Universal Music Group’s sales reps offered his team the ability to get in on a “promotional sale for signed CDs by a major artist” late on Tuesday night. 

“I said ‘Sure, sounds like fun. Who’s the artist? and he said Taylor Swift,” the Bull Moose representative explains. “And I was pretty floored. The idea, as I understand it anyway, was to partner up with Record Store Day to give something super cool for indie stores to sell to drive some foot traffic into stores to help those affected by the pandemic.”

The short notice incited some “scrambling, overnight shipping, and a lot of online communication,” according to a representative from Zia Records, which has locations in Arizona and Nevada. 

“But Folklore is one of those titles that appeals to Swift’s hardcore fanbase and indie heads via the Bon Iver and National connections,” Zia Records rep tells Rolling Stone. “We knew it would be worth it.”

“In the end, we received copies at nine of our 12 locations,” the Bull Moose representative adds. “And it only took about two hours after I tweeted at 11:10 a.m. this morning to sell completely through. Phones rang off the hook in every store. Folks took road trips to try to get one. It was a huge deal! Honestly, I expected it to be big, but this was huger than I expected!”

“Obviously the excitement level was pretty high,” a Reckless representative tells Rolling Stone. “We posted that we had the CDs on our Instagram and they were gone in about an hour. Two of our locations received copies. Everybody was really cool about it, and it was nice to see people excited about anything right now honestly.”

When Rolling Stone asked Reckless about profit splits - and whether or not the store had to purchase the CDs, or if they were gifted - the representative replied simply: 

“We sold them like normal CDs, so we were able to make some money.”

While joyful excitement is a treasure during the monotony that is quarantine, some feared the risk of potentially spreading Covid-19. 

“That was definitely a concern of ours but everybody showed up pretty sporadically,” the Reckless representative shares. “There was never any line or anything. The most people that were in here together was a family of four.”

Some other recipients of the CDs included Portland, Oregon’s Music Millennium, Cincinnati, Ohio’s Shake It Records, Kansas City, Missouri’s Mills Records, Lexington, Kentucky’s CD Central, Brooklyn’s Rough Trade, Long Island’s Looney Tunes, Dayton, Ohio’s Omega Music, St. Louis, Missouri’s Vintage Vinyl, Arizona’s Zia Records and Grimey’s in Nashville, Tennessee. Swift previously helped Grimey’s at the start of the pandemic by playing employees’ wages for three months and providing them with healthcare.

*** You can also check out an article by Variety: Indie Record Shop Lover Taylor Swift Boosts Local Stores With Shipments of Signed CDs *** Article by AZ Central: How a Phoenix record store became the place to be for Taylor Swift fans in Arizona *** Article by Green Bay Press-Gazette: When entire box of signed Taylor Swift 'Folklore' CDs ended up in her hands outside Exclusive Co., fan does the right thing *** Read about the fan who returned the box of CDs to the store: 'I was all sorts of panicked': Meet the Taylor Swift fan from Green Bay who kept that box of signed 'Folklore' CDs safe

[skykids]

[Image Description: There are 4 panels.

Panel 1 shows the last mural in the Cave of Prophecies, in which the Elders minus Isle of Dawn and Vault Elders receive their elements and a golden person as a large centrepiece has a huger halo around it and a smaller halo around its head akin to a crown. The accompanying text reads “some say a few are chosen”.

Panel 2 shows a mural in the Cave of Prophecies, in which said golden person has their hands up beside a lion head with glowing fire-like eyes. Apparently it has won a Trial. There are bodies lying around. The accompanying text reads “and the rest are dregs”.

Panel 3 shows a moth sky kid high fiving the the questgiver of Season of Assembly inside the treehouse. Nearby there is another scout spirit looking at closets. The accompanying text reads “but I say we humans have our humanity”.

Panel 4 shows the Isle of Dawn cutscene. The Isle Elder has his back turned to the viewer and is mostly out of the frame, but you can see his staff raised and a flock of birds flying past it toward somehere ahead and unknown. The accompanying text reads in all caps “WE WILL DEFY THIS WORLD WITH A POWER FROM BEYOND”.

End ID]

Now, you who has set foot in this world.

Your journey has reached its end, but one final doorway remains.

[radley-rambles]

this is a friendly neighborhood WIP anon! who's your favorite oc from all your current wips?

First off - this is so sweet! This hit on a day where I really wanna ramble about my WIPs, rather than... actually... writing them...... so YOU HAVE ENABLED ME MOST WONDROUSLY

1) STRICTLY NO HEROICS

God this is THE HARDEST one to answer. Riley’s spunky and snarky and oh-so-good at using humour to hide genuine pain. But as Sherman is based on my 17-year-old self’s fantasy badass girlfriend, I, uh, gotta give her the crown. A classic Jerk With A Heart of Gold, she might come over as grouchy and rude, but she cares so much for the people around her!

Honorable mention for the Captain, a middle-aged henchman who cleans up after Supervillains on a daily basis and is just... so very done with life.

2) DRESSAGE DRAGONS

NEVE. Pandora held the torch for a while - she’s such a fascinating character, and I really enjoyed exploring how she interweaves anxieties and privilege! But Neve wins on account of being an older, buff, tattooed butch firefighter in a polycule! I.e., directly tailored to my interests. Because I’m shameless. 

Charlie Darling starts off with a very overt crush on her, but (as all adults should, when receiving amorous overtures from 17-year-olds) Neve firmly plants Charlie in the ‘little sibling’ box and refuses to let them crawl out. She looks kinda tough, but she has huge Mom Friend energy. Especially when dealing with a pair of idiot kids who are trying to teach massive, fire-breathing carnivores to dance.

3) HIS MAJESTY’S STARSHIP

I gotta go with Kitty, because she’s such a delight to write. She’s just... constantly waggling her eyebrows in the back of my head. I love her. A desperate dying flirt who just wants to use her last year on earth (or off it) to BONE.

4) VOLT

Buck is an eight-foot-five herbo??? Nuff said. 

She’s a bit abrasive, a lot of a brat, and loyal to a fault. Only that might be a big fault, when you’re starting to suspect you’re loyal to the wrong person. Dark past; cares too much; struggles to let go. She’s one of my most complex characters - which is interesting, as on the surface she reads as a typical dumb bruiser. And - yeah, she’s absolutely that. But she’s got LAYERS, and her gnarly, not-very-healthy, problematique relationship with Vash (sort-of girl/boyfriend) and Zeebe (sort-of daughter) really appeals to me as a writer! Damn I miss writing Adult books 

5) KROW DYNASTY

Wulfgaard is (you guessed it) another herbo... Looks really intimidating, actually shy to the point where it’s a major detriment to her life. Huge, scar-faced warrior woman, with huger social anxiety. She flusters easily and gets so tongue-tied (especially around pretty ladies) that she mostly just... doesn’t say anything at all. Which, given she’s the queen’s executioner and has a bad case of resting murder-face, has earned her a reputation for being an absolute monster. Really, she just wants friends! Please, somebody, hug her.

Thank youuuuu for the ask

[kittymsmithwritesstuff]

Commission: Surprises

A Valorant commission for @sr-023! Was fun to write. :3

If you’re interested in commissions you can find my prices here: (x)

Tags: fluff, humor, light angst, people cooking together. Platonic Viper/Jett getting to know each other a little bit more in the kitchen.

Word count: 2413

-----

“Oh my God, you cook?”

Viper without her mask gave way to several emotions Jett forgot she was capable of. Like amusement. “Yes. And I eat, too.”

“Wow! I never would have guessed. I thought you subsisted on like, diluted snake venom and children’s tears.”

Viper rolled her eyes, peeling a potato in one smooth movement, leaving a curl of peel to fall into a bowl. “It was Breach’s turn to cook. I don’t know about you, but snake venom is far more palatable than lutefisk.”

Jett couldn’t tell if she was kidding or not. “You’re just secretly a sweetheart.”

Viper twirled the knife in her hand and pointed it at Jett, mouth a hard line. “Don’t push it.”

Jett shrugged it off smoothly, hoping she didn’t see the stutter of nerves in her shoulders. She looked over the kitchen island-thawed meat, potatoes, green beans that looked like they must have come from a garden, except there weren’t any gardens on the compound that she knew of so...beans-of-mysterious-origin. And all of it in huger quantities than needed to feed the compound. How very American.

And there was Viper in the middle of all of it. Peeling potato after potato in a silent kitchen, a bowl filling with impeccable ribbons. She wondered where she might have learned to peel a potato like that. Like, that totally wasn’t a master poisoner skill, right? It was like a housewife or a hobby cook that was…really into peeling potatoes. Given she was usually taken with annoying Viper, and Viper in turn was taken with threatening her life with any method that violated the Geneva Convention, the fact she hadn’t already kicked her out must have meant she was in an unusually gregarious mood.

And maybe Jett was in her own kind of mood from witnessing the phenomenon of the great mighty Viper being distinctly un-snakelike. She glanced at all the food again, rocking from heel to toe. “Can I help?”

“Yes.”

“Great! How?”

“By leaving until I’m done.”

Jett rolled her eyes, coming to the other side of the island, out of stabbing distance. “C’mon, please?”

Viper stopped mid peel, nicking the skin so it fell, unfinished. She looked at it like it had cut in front of her in line, but it was too public to make a scene. Her eyes flicked up to Jett, who spread her palms over her heart. “I’m good with knives!”

Viper looked from her to the meat, then back again. She sniffed. “You may cut the beef into steaks, if you insist. Inch and a half.”

She almost buzzed, throwing one of her knives up to hover beside her and quickly washing her hands. She wasn’t super into cooking usually, but it was kind of like getting to see the lions actually up and wandering around at the zoo instead of just sitting there and waiting for their next meal. Very aware of the eyes on her, she grabbed her knife from the air, adjusted the meat on the cutting board, and slowly started cutting down into it, trying to channel every lesson her dad ever gave her in the kitchen, all of which she’d ignored so she could go back to doing literally anything else.

Evidently, she wasn’t channeling them very well, as there was soon a knife clattering over the counter toward her. She jumped, half expected to get stabbed, but the knife rested a foot away. She looked up at Viper, who looked absolutely pained. “Use…use an actual knife.”

“This is a knife?”

“It’s a throwing knife. The blade is five inches at best. That is a chef’s knife.” She went back to the potatoes, though somehow Jett still felt her eyes on her. Maybe she had false eyespots like a moth and her real eyes were on her forehead. She palmed the handle, tilting the blade so it glinted in the stark kitchen light, then lined it up and finished cutting the steak-smooth, easy, like butter. She looked over at Viper.

“Good,” she said. She was still peeling potatoes. How many potatoes were there? “Set it on the plate. Use the seasoning there. Not too much.”

Jett snorted, setting the meat aside and using her meat-juice covered hand on the unlabled spice shaker. “Yeah okay, Mom.”

There was another nick, a potato peel falling half done. Jett could see her muscles tense-her whole body, in fact, went rigid, but as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, and the knife was steadily scraping against the potato again. She could have imagined it. This was Viper after all, the same woman that once “accidentally” bumped her into a poison pit because Jett had been “annoying”.

And yet…

She shrugged, flipping and seasoning the other side of the steak, apparently to her cooking neighbors satisfaction, and then went ahead and cut the next steak, seasoning and flipping it, leaving bloody lines on the seasoning bottle until she realized just how unsanitary that probably was, and got the idea to clean it, then grab a paper towel and fold it over a few times, wrap the bottle and tape it. Viper raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think I’ve seen you do something so smart.”

Smart? She just called her smart? Sure, it was backhanded, but she’d never heard her call anybody smart. Especially not her. She threw on a British accent as she said, “don’t need anymore bloody spice shakers, huh?”

She hummed. But it could have been a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard a British person sound like that.”

“Phoenix said if I ever try to do the accent in his presence again he’ll set me on fire.”

“As is his right.”

Jett snorted, returning to her cutting and seasoning. “You’re not…wrong.”

Viper finally finished her unholy pile of starch and set up two pots of water to boil the approximate 230,000 potatoes, give or take a half dozen. Jett finished her own job and set the steaks up on pans to broil, Viper taking over from there and telling her to “get the beans ready”. Considering she’d only ever eaten green beans straight from the can at 2am this was a bit of a difficult task. Difficult, unfamiliar tasks tended to make her nervous. But Jett wasn’t about to be shown up by some beans.

So she confidently put the burner on high, grabbed a handful and dropped them in the water once it was boiling, thus splashing water over burners, herself, countertop and floor, sending up a grand sizzling equitable to the sounds of demon laughter bubbling up from hell. She yipped, jumping away, in doing so smashing into Viper, who almost slipped on the water, caught herself on the counter and flicked the gas off.

The look she gave Jett could have boiled the ocean.

“Get out.” She said. Low, dangerous, like the buzz of a rattlesnake’s tail.

Jett scurried backward, tapping her hip to count how many of her knives she still had on her as her calf knocked against a chair at one of the circular dining tables in the room. She sat in it, not entirely sure as to why. Probably because Viper hadn’t straight up killed her, and she had the self-preservation instincts of that rat from Ratatouille.

She watched from her seat, how she moved around the kitchen as if on a breeze, smoothly following the curve of the wind, twirling between the meat and the potatoes, setting up the beans by gently placing them into the pot (which, in hindsight, was definitely common sense that Jett…apparently didn’t possess). The beautiful potato skins were tossed in one large bowl and covered with water, then a timer was set. It felt like watching an artist, spawning a question in her head.

Viper saw her staring and glowered. “Why are you still here?”

Her feet fidgeted, and she clasped her fingers together to avoid tugging at her hair, like her Mom had taught her. Better to look pensive than apprehensive. “Were you a chef?”

Viper stared, glower softening to a neutral expression tilting towards surprise. She glanced back towards the kitchen, slowly crossing her arms under her chest. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well, cooking is like, a form of chemistry, right?” She pulled the only fact she’d ever retained from Home Ec out of her ass, hoping and praying it worked, cause otherwise she was probably going to be banished from the room…and maybe dinner. Man, she really hoped she wasn’t banned from dinner.

Thankfully, the wind blew in some luck. “I was a double major at University of Washington. Culinary Arts and Chemistry.”

She let herself smile, just a bit. “So, you’re good with knives, too.”

“You could say so.” She was eyeing her, and instead of sitting in the chair across from her, she leaned against the nearby wall. “Did you have any training with your knives?”

Jett was surprised she’d bothered to ask. “I taught myself. Since I was a kid.” She leaned back and swung her hand casually, swirling a knife into the air to illustrate her point. “My mom wanted me to go to college but, like, I can control wind with my mind, so that sounded kind of lame.”

Viper cocked her head to the side. “So, your powers, it’s all mental manipulation?”

Jett shrugged slightly. “I mean, mostly. I also gotta like, move my hands and legs and stuff. But I mostly just think about it. Or don’t-like it’s natural now, like walking or breathing.”

“Fascinating,��� she said with a thoughtful tone, returning to the food. Somewhat hesitant, Jett joined her, at a respectful distance. She stabbed the potatoes, and apparently that meant something because she drained them immediately after, chucked in some butter and started sprinkling some salt and pepper and beating the living shit out of them with a hand mixer. She noticed Jett standing and nodded toward the sink. “Make yourself useful and drain the potato skins. Toss them in the bowl with olive oil and the spice mix and put them on a pan in the oven.”

She blinked, then shrugged and slipped around her. Now that she was pretty sure she wasn’t going to get speared through, or find her way into another poison pit, she decided she…sort of liked working with Viper in the kitchen. She was rude but she also was sort of…normal? As normal as she was capable of being? She did as directed, coating the skins until they looked unhealthy and chuckling as she threw in the spices. “Y’know, I probably should have asked if this was poisoned before I put it on.”

Viper huffed, turning off the mixer with a click. “Please, not everything I do involves poison. I wasn’t born with, with tubocurarine dripping from my fingertips, hell I wasn’t like this, I was made into it.”

She tossed everything in the oven. Jett paused, gripping her arms, trying to seem casual. She’d heard a few throwaway comments before, they all had, but right now she thought, perhaps, if she phrased it right, she could ask certain questions without sounding (and being) a total dick. “What’s tubocurarine?”

“A neurotoxin, first used for poison arrows and later to keep muscles relaxed during surgery. It would paralyze you for a couple hours, basically.”

“Oh, interesting.” She bit her lip, digging her nails into her skin. “Hey, you don’t have to say anything but, can I, can I ask who?”

Viper paused, turning slowly to look down her nose at her. She was, again, reminded of the other woman’s venomous namesake. “Excuse me?”

“Who, uh…made you, uh,” in fear of phrasing it wrong, Jett gestured vaguely at Viper, who narrowed her eyes.

The air was heavy, but it wasn’t boiling like with the beans. It wasn’t even rumbling. It was contemplative, quiet, even a little sad. Like a waveless ocean. “I don’t know.” She said finally.

Jett blinked. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know.” She shrugged smoothly, though she was visibly tense. Like when I called her mom¸ Jett thought, a stone sinking in her stomach. “My family, my friends, myself-it all was taken from me. And I don’t have faces or names to put it to.”

Her shoulders dropped. “Shit.”

Viper let out a very uncharacteristic snort, pulling the steaks and potato skins from the oven. “That’s about the best way to describe it. Perhaps in some ways it’s my fault, I didn’t fight it as much as I should have…” she stopped, staring at the steaks and then shaking her head, taking a deep breath. “Though if I ever do find out who, they’ll wish they’d killed me. Anyway,” she gave Jett a sidelong glance. “Now you. Venice.”

A bolt of anxiety speared through her being and she gripped the strap of her tank top reflexively. “I-I didn’t do it.”

“A floating city and a wind radiant found at its base? Please.”

She pursed her lips. “I. Didn’t. Do. It.”

She turned slightly, furrowing her brow, eyes darting over her face as she began to move the steaks to a plate. “You’re serious.”

“Yeah.” She looked at her feet. “I was there when it started cracking, and I used my powers to jump off and landed on some chunk that hadn’t come up with the rest of the island. Some guy got me on his phone camera. Nobody believed me when I said I had nothing to do with it. And if I’m being honest with myself, they probably never will.” She sighed and forced herself to look up, braced for the pity, or the accusation-you’re bad at lying, she’d say, like so many others.

But in place of either, there was a slight, slight smile. “Guess we have more in common than I thought, Jett.”

---

Everyone was very thankful to not have to try and find the politest way to refuse Breach’s lye-soaked cod. Jett saying she helped also reassured everyone that the food didn’t contain Viper’s latest experiment. At least, that was until Viper was noticeably not eating, glancing around the tables, sipping only her water as the members of Valorant gradually stopped chewing, some digging into their potatoes, Breach eyeing his steak suspiciously. Jett glanced around and suddenly choked, falling off her chair.

Phoenix screamed, scrambling backward over his chair, the others quickly beginning to scoot away until Jett sat up again, grinning.

“Gotcha,” Viper said, smiling over her glass.

[tremendousmothergoat]

Slip Up AV: Alphys is coming down a waterslide

“Undyne, no! Don’t you dare!” Alphys squealed, holding desperately onto Undyne’s arms as her girlfriend pushed her backwards towards the yawning opening of a covered water slide. Undyne had declared going backwards down a waterslide was the most EXTREME way of doing so, and wanted to share it with Alphys. Alphys, on the other hand, hated the idea. But here she was, being pushed backwards towards the edge, her foot slipping away..!

And down she went, squealing all the way! On her belly and shooting backwards down the dark tunnel, she had no way of flipping over and righting herself. The air rushed past up past her face, threatening to whip her glasses off, so she had to hold them on.. It certainly was extreme, for sure! But she hoped it would be over soon.

At the bottom of the slide, lifeguard Toriel was wondering what was taking so long with the latest slide rider. Hearing Alphys’s squeals echoing down the tunnel, she made the mistake of coming to the bottom of it and looking up into the darkness.. And the last thing she saw was Alphys’s thick, fat yellow ass beelining straight for her!

Alphys let out another shriek as she emerged from the slide, not because she was out of the slide, but because something enormous had disappeared entirely up her rump! She flailed about in the water, and turned herself over, her fat stomach all the huger inside her swimsuit with something big and wriggling inside..

“O-oh gosh! I’m so sorry!” she gasped. “Just uh, g-gimme a sec!” She quickly got to the shallow end of the pool, and pulled herself up, running off towards the changing rooms with a pair of white paws sticking out of her rump. Unfortunately for Toriel though, the lizard wasn’t about to let her go. She was just trying to hide Toriel before anybody noticed. When she came out of the changing rooms a little later, her stomach was burbling away happily and her swimsuit was nicely stretched over a very still, very not-bulging-or-kicking belly.

Alphys avoided water slides for the rest of the day, spending her time sunbathing and digesting her meal instead.

[precuredaily]

Precure Day 184

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 36 - “Go for the Goal! Marathon Race” Date watched: 13 May 2020 Original air date: 14 October 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/hrE6zQT Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

Gamabunta is that you?

This show has been on a pretty good run lately. We had the vacation arc, haunted school, our festival fun, a day in the life of Urara, some romantic developments, Rin entering the wedding industry, and Karen as a knight. The defeats of Girinma and Arachnea were both suitably epic and inspiring. Well forget all that because it’s a Gamao episode and in true Gamao form, he ruins any goodwill we may have had for him. He can’t even do a last chance black mask monster transformation episode well. Let’s take a look.

The Plot

Cinq Lumieres Academy is having an all-grade level 4 kilometer race, and Nozomi is trying to get out of participating, but Rin keeps insisting she practice. Rin doesn’t have a lot of time TO practice with Nozomi, between her responsibilities to the Futsal Club and having to tend to the family store. More on this later, because it’s time to flimsily set up Nightmare’s scheme this episode.

Gamao is sitting on a bench when he’s approached by Kawarino. Gamao begs the senior executive for a management position at Nightmare but Kawarino remarks that his accomplishments so far amount to nothing. He says maybe he could change his mind if he were to obtain the Dream Collet, and considers giving Gamao the black paper, but decides not to before he disappears. However, Gamao discovers that Girinma "accidentally” left it behind for him, and is convinced he’ll be able to get into upper management. As he runs off to enact his plan, Kawrino reappears and snidely remarks to himself that he doesn’t have much faith in the frog.

We return to Nozomi and Rin’s running practice A few key shots of Rin show that she’s extremely tired but pressing on, because she really wants to repeat her first place title from last year. Karen notices this and decides that they should all join in the practice, so the next day when they run the practice course, all five girls and even Coco and Nuts are present. They begin to climb to a hill that could rival anything in San Francisco, and Nozomi starts to give up, but as she stops to encourage her friend, Rin succumbs to fatigue and collapses.

Everyone gets Rin back to Natts House and when she’s feeling better, she opens up to Nozomi, saying she wanted to do for Nozomi what Nozomi did for her when they were in elementary school. We flash back to a time in their youth when the school had a race, and Rin was the favorite to win, but she tripped and fell and almost gave up running entirely until Nozomi caught up to her and encouraged her to finish the race together. Nozomi promises to do her best in the race for Rin’s sake.

It’s important to note that the route for this race leaves the Cinq Lumieres campus and gets into the town (which I am realizing has never been named). There are signs along the route that point the way, and Gamao has taken a position as a sign holder at a junction. When he sees the Precures coming, he turns the sign to divert them off the route away from the other students, and when he has them all gathered in a dead end forest, he turns the ground into a beyblade arena crater and makes his presence known. When they naturally refuse to hand over the Dream Collet, he transforms and so do they. He tries to mow them over like Tasmanian Devil, zooming around the pit like fat beyblade.

I’m not kidding that’s his plan

The Precures are understandably tired as they’ve been running, but after he mocks them for running for no reason, Dream gets riled up and retorts that trying hard at something isn’t pointless at all, and then they all kick his ass. He pulls out his black paper, but clearly he wasn’t aware of the side effects when it latches onto his face and turns him giant. Now a giant, mindless toad monster, he leaps into the air and comes crashing down on Lemonade, Mint, and Aqua. He smooshes Rouge as well, and then tries to attack the fairies, who are watching from the edge of the pit.

Dream manages to catch his tongue before he can hurt them, and the other Cures emerge, one beneath each foot, lifting him up and throwing him into the wall. With Milk’s help, they summon the Symphony Set and perform Precure Five Explosion, finishing Gamao off once and for all. He will not be missed.

They make their way back to the race route and realize as they turn back into the school grounds that they’re in last place, ruining Rin’s chances at a repeat victory. However, she’s happy enough that she gets to finish together with her friends, just like she did all those years ago. Nozomi declares a race to the finish and sprints across the finish line ahead of everyone else as the episode closes out.

The Analysis

As you may have gathered from my introduction, I don’t have a very high opinion on this episode. Sure, it has some nice character beats, but it doesn’t introduce anything new or build on any facets we haven’t seen before, except to give us another reason why Nozomi and Rin are close friends. It’s not offensively bad or anything, I don’t think there’s any episodes that I outright hate in this franchise, but it’s bottom tier for this show. There’s very little narrative payoff to Rin’s plot in the episode. She overworked herself to the point of collapsing to motivate Nozomi, and ultimately Nozomi did internalize the importance of the race from Rin’s perspective, which she repeated during the battle. It’s nice but I’ve grown to expect more meaningful declarations during these pivotal villain defeat episodes than “I helped her as a kid and she wants to help me now.” The whole point of Five Explosion is a manifestation that they’re stronger together than apart, but this episode isn’t about the full team’s unity, so it falls flat. If it hadn’t been Gamao’s send-off I might have liked it a smidge better, or if it had been Hadenya attacking instead, or even Bunbee, then it may have made sense.

Moving over to Gamao, for a black mask final battle, this fell far short of what Girinma and Arachnea put the girls through. He didn’t seem any more threatening than a strong Kowaina, he only really got in one attack on the girls as a monster before they took him down with Five Explosion. He had a pretty cool effect of being so massive and fast that he generated really fast air currents but they didn’t do any damage to anyone. This battle is a ton of wasted potential. The best part of the fight was actually before he used the black mask. Spinning around the arena like he did was clever, and it worked better than just about anything else he’s ever done. Gamao’s shortfalling is that he’s lazy and shortsighted, he wants to take the easy way out, his plans amount to simply beating the girls up and that’s it. Compare this to Bloody from the previous episode, who nearly talked Nuts into just handing it over, and well, Gamao comes out of this unfavorably. About the only good thing I can say about him is that his black mask form looks really cool, and it’s huger than any we’ve seen so far. I really wish they’d used it more. If they’d swapped him out with Girinma in episodes 23-24 I would have liked that a lot more, it would give Gamao a better sendoff and it feels more appropriate that the weakest villain is the first to go. Alas.

Lastly, the art quality in this episode is in the toilet and that might be the biggest factor in making it seem underwhelming. The characters appear grossly deformed and oddly proportioned a lot.

Even when they’re kicking Gamao’s ass in the fight, which is a series of dynamic still frames, the quality is poor. There’s a shot when Coco and Nuts step in to announce that they’ll be running with the girls, and their models just bounce into the frame like they leaped into the air and landed, rather than stepping. It was bad and kind of hilarious by the same token.

This episode feels like an afterthought on both the writing and animation standpoint. The last few have been so-so in visual quality and if you’ve been following along, you know that’s normal for this point in the show, and of course it’s nowhere near as bad as Max Heart could get, but this is an episode that should have had weight to it, and to see it squandered like this makes me sad.

On the upside I will say I enjoy the little back and forth between Nozomi and Milk, ever butting heads. Milk tells Nozomi that they can all do their best in the practice run, while sitting comfortably in Nuts’s bag being kind of a slouch herself. It was amusing.

Speaking of slouches, Coco probably should go for more runs, because next episode he’s putting on some weight after eating a diet of nothing but cream puffs. Look forward to more on that!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 0 Kettei!

P.S. dear Pretty Cure Splash Subs: your meme subs are not funny.

[barbara-costa]

2. Fabulations & Trees

What if we could talk to trees?

Reflecting upon the lecture on Fabulation and Design, I realised the word did not mean what I thought it meant - related to fabulous, meaning beautiful or amazing. So I searched for the meaning.

to fabulate: to tell invented stories; create fables or stories filled with fantasy to relate an event as a fable.

Then on Wikipedia, I found the term Fabulation was popularised by Robert Scholes in his work The Fabulators, to describe a style of novel similar to magical realism but that did not fit into the traditional categories of realism or romance.

Interestingly, after having written the first draft of this post I read in the book Critical Fabulations that the writer also chose to describe the meaning of the word at the beginning of the book.

Now I am beginning to understand what our lectures are trying to evoke with the connections between the past and the present and how historical events overlap and connect in so many ways, some of which are not instantly evident.

The forward section of the book spoke to me on so many levels.  In the past, Design was about jumping straight into solutions.  Nowadays, as we are constantly reminded in the course, we need to understand the user, empathise, define, ideate, prototype, test and repeat the process over and over.  This process isn’t linear and designers should move back and forth through the stages as necessary to really understand who the users are, what they do and their needs.

I think that jumping straight into a ‘solution’ or a final ‘idea’ can be quite a natural reaction when faced with a problem to solve, so for our project we are aware of this tendency and have been trying to focus on the process, but every time we meet ideas keep on flowing and we feel excited.

There are 4 of us in the group. A designer/maker, a people-watcher, a word smiths and a coder/hacker. We are so excited!

We have collated our ideas and have been using a colour each to comment on them via Google Docs.  At our last meeting we discussed a bit more and decided that we wanted to focus on well-being.  

I am a tree lover and one of my ideas was to take ‘tree-hugging’ to another level. Since starting this project, I have found so many interesting websites, articles and books about trees, which I shall continue exploring beyond the course.  I believe that technology could enhance the power of trees to help people manage health problems like depression and anxiety, feel more grounded and connect with nature.  One website* states that the vibrational properties of trees have many health benefits. So, imagine if technology could enhance this vibration? *http://peacockplume.fr/lifestyle/hugging-trees-good-your-health

Imagine if as you talked to a tree, you heard subtle sounds coming from it? These sounds would match our own tone of voice with a choice of tones controlled by an app or a device on the tree itself, depending on the mood and need of the user.  I speculate that having the feedback from the tree would have an effect somewhat similar to talking to a therapist.  Usually therapists direct our questions back to ourselves and transform our own statements into questions, for us to answer. We have the answers to our deepest questions, but we do not always listen to ourselves. Talking to trees is a thing nowadays and there is a movement called Forest Bathing*, where people go for guided walks in the woods and are encouraged to talk to a tree of their choice and get to know them.

I feel that these activities have the potential to work because trees can make us look within.  It has never been more important to look within than right now, with the increase of social media where many of us expose our lives to the world and find it hard to know when we’ve done too much.  

The group thinks trees have a potential for the project. Two members are very keen and have shared materials they have found.  I particularly liked the music for trees app at Regents park. See the image below.

A group member shared an essay about the trees that made me reflect on the lecture Fabulation and Design.  I wanted to see if I could connect the facts like in the lecture as an experiment with the skill of fabulation.  

The essay is called What’s a tree worth? by Jill Jonnes (http://archive.wilsonquarterly.com/essays/what-tree-worth).  She gives a  chronological (1905 to 2006) account of trees becoming important in the infrastructure of cities and well-being of citizens in American cities.  She describes the social and economical benefits of having trees in urban spaces, which started by president Theodore Rooselvelt, who was a tree lover and an exception since politicians didn’t, and still many don’t, see much value in trees. 

By the 1970’s most Americans lived in cities.  Tree lovers watched as trees began to disappear due to the Dutch elm disease, development and shrinking municipal budgets for tree planting.  But in 1989, Chicago’s newly appointed mayor, Richard Daley Jr., a self-proclaimed tree hugger, vowed to plant a half-million trees as part of his effort to revive his decaying Rust Belt city.  

I found that in 1989 there were major events in the world.  A ‘tree revolution’ was about to start in the USA while on the other side of the world revolutions started in Central and Eastern Europe that resulted in the end of the communist rule.  In the same year, British computer scientist Tim Berners-Lee proposed an information management system that initiated the process of creating the World Wide Web, which was the foundation of the internet as we know it now.

Even though these events may not be directly connected, I feel that in some ways they do connect.  We wouldn’t be talking about technology enhanced trees if the world had not changed and developed so much that we are now able to know what is going on around the world through the web, and are free to think and progress without worrying about threats from dictatorships in European countries.  

For some years after this , trees did not make as many headlines, but times are changing.  Now that we don’t need to worry about dictatorships, at least in Europe, and have the incredible World Wide Web at our fingertips, we can focus on planting and protecting trees, which are a priority today, especially with millions of trees being cut down around the world, which is the devastating situation of the Amazon, with a president that have outraged environmentalists and citizens alike when he announced publicly that there is too much ‘free’ land in the Amazon that can be used for farming.

In addition to all of the benefits that trees bring to cities, listed by Jill Jonnes, I’d like to think that ‘Tech-Trees’ would help us connect with our true selves, help us deal with the stresses of living in big cities and motivate more people to plant and protect trees. 

To end this post, I attach an extract from the essay which I think is very relevant today.

Caption from bottom to top

1. A tree therapist that listens to people and makes sounds that reassures and empathises with the person who is talking to them.

2. A technology enhanced park with trees that vibrate at the roots so that people feel this subtle vibration to enhance their yoga session.

3. Here trees vibrate on the ground and release an aromatic mist that makes them feel good.  The aromas and vibration speed and style can be selected through an app.

4. A smart park with ‘tech-trees’, mediation pods, walking meditation foot path and free fruit to be picked from tress.

[dollsahoy]

The local paper said that some unnamed commercial entity is looking for permit/approval to build an over 3.5 million square foot facility (mostly warehouse, but also a big chunk of office space) on the edge of town.  It’s only known as Project Sam.

Now...there’s already a 1 million square foot Amazon facility in the county, not really far away from where this would be--might this be an additional huger Amazon facility?  “Project it’S AMazon”?  Or “Project SAM Walton founded Walmart wink wink”?  There’s also a 1 millionish square foot UnderArmour warehouse in the county, so I guess the new thing could be anything, if it’s approved.  We kinda doubt it’s going to be a mixed use/leased to multiple entities kinda place--that’s just too big to gamble on having that many businesses willing to lease.

[zhongnanhaisuperlights]

Huger Foote/now here then

[libidomechanica]

“for it is what Muse a foot on my hate”

Down the devil hath bred to see:  why should do was the  sea shone; for it is what 

Muse a foot on my hate. A virtues  raise a glass is the  city, and by promise of night, the 

left the land water, purer, better  mind, white the fanning  wash of bodies can you make you, to 

you, and seal the silent grots  and old, huger that two days  of mortal ravished light, as other 

commenced quires are kindly driven thro the  Heaven to be  very which it had shed that you are 

all the winter long-wave lightning flower,  debauched across the  town and leader of beauty herself so 

kinder course truffles to explore, since their  fee; but exerted the Lord  Coke (see Littleton), when her husband 

made by one maybe like that makes a  dance (though some worth— “compared as  Pasimond purple vest that needs must not, but 

Strongbows wit was the beautys  effectually there unseen hand life,  too reading viewed the shall for 

shall reprieves fickle glassful couple always  knockd many, poor babes their  faces not any way you? Lo how am 

I so familiarity of charm  most a prediction is  much loyalty. What matter what thou will 

sail before splendid host in  growing and former height and  so dearest Silvia, yet was 

deaths at a time you were to pass  than victory is  my friends are my love them to 

your earths wet breath no greater fountains kiss not  now me. This your vision, and  that people meant a mere come to 

set a glass of the imperfect  beautiful face, then he willingly  strife, ‘“painful loving you your teddy bear 

and sing you would he went an Angel now,  but her lovd to menage  loathed?” Where vice triumphal muffles too, the 

maternal cold? —O lay thy chairs on the  monstrous excess, that  here, I come, as grows cold and not disturb 

their rule and crooked like me, my loves eternal  cold?’ Catch you could  Medea has his mind which tremble 

at least, I vex my hearts he heede. Of obvious  more appetite, whose shadow a  new rays thats reality? M numb. These 

were, though probably much as lies  dead, are all the thread  the floor; so suprabundant to 

a penchant, the whole little known a  tired)” displayes, reason, nor blind:  these are very splendid houses, 

light arm of his oozy locks he would  for the pock! Waved my  heart. To bed the the daring 

or Old Master the day, whereas  she came scuffing into  one, who ruine am witless.

[laurelsofhighever]

Favourite passage written

tagged by @ladymdc - thanks! <3

and in turn I’m tagging @gingerbreton @athenasdragon @naiatabris @out-of-the-embers @ocean-in-my-rebel-soul aaaaand @dovahgriin - all completely optional, of course!

This was rather difficult, because I have written a lot. Eventually, though, I got it narrowed down. Some of my best work is in Falcon, and this is a scene from Chapter 16, which is my favourite not only for what happens and because of the wonderful commission I had done for it, but because it’s one of the first scenes I had in my head for this story, and it’s the start of Rosslyn and Alistair’s feelings for each other:

It was Alistair.

He lay without moving. A thin sheet was pulled up to cover his bare chest, a thick crust of gore caked his scalp and the left side of his face, and the skin beneath it shone pale with sweat. Was all the blood his? Someone had splinted his left arm and tied it in a sling. If he were dead, then surely they wouldn’t have bandaged his wounds, or propped him up with so many pillows for comfort. Surely.

Cuno, sensing his mistress’ uncertainty, came to lick her hand. He whined and nudged her hip when she only batted distractedly at his ears, and then with a perfunctory sneeze padded over to the bed and jumped up so that his large paws landed squarely – heavily – on Alistair’s stomach.

“Cuno!” Rosslyn hissed. She started forward, but halted again when Alistair groaned and cracked open his eyes.

“Ow, gerroff… ugh… where’d you even come from…?”

Relief hit her with such force that her knees sagged and she had to catch herself against the doorpost, her throat choked with every emotion she had kept in check since riding into the camp. He’s not dead. She squeezed her eyes shut and listened to the creak of the straw mattress, the rustle of blankets, sending her thanks to all the gods who cared to listen. He’s alive, he’s alright, he’s not dead. The barbs of their argument loomed out of the darkness, still mocking, still powerful enough to sting her with shame, but their potency was lost with the fear that he might have died thinking she didn’t care.

“Who’s a cute and adorable puppy?” Alistair crooned, oblivious to everything but the dog snuggling against his arm. The words were slurred and a laugh bubbled in her throat.

“Andraste?”

She opened her eyes. He was peering into the shadows where she stood, propped up on one elbow to get a better view. The blanket covering him slipped down to his navel, bare except for the bandages, and she quickly turned her gaze away.

“Not quite.”

His confusion broke into a drunken sort of smile. “Rosslyn?” He settled back onto the mattress. “Good. Much prettier than ‘draste.”

Her hand froze against the tearstains on her cheek. The mages must have given him a soporific – blood lotus, perhaps, for the pain of his broken arm – and it was distorting his perceptions. She didn’t know what to say.

Then, after a moment, a thought seemed to occur to him, because he leaned up again and narrowed his eyes at her. “You are real, aren’t you?” he asked. “You’re not some sort of ghost, or apparition, or – or a demon, right? Because I really, really don’t want you to be a demon.”

“If I were a demon, would I tell you?” she teased.

He relaxed. “It’s you. Nobody else mocks me like you do.”

She chuckled as she moved towards him out of the darkness, determined to ignore how her face heated under his scrutiny. “It’s me.” She fiddled with the edge of the bedsheet. “I –”

“There you are!” The healer appeared next to the curtain, more puffed up than ever now that he had been made to exert himself. “My lady, please, I’m afraid I cannot allow you back here. These patients need rest, and –”

“I thought they were here to be healed,” Rosslyn said.

“They are. Which is why I will have to ask you to –”

“Perhaps, then,” she interrupted, “you could tell me why this man is lying here still covered in blood, and still with such severe injuries?”

“My lady,” the healer replied, indignant. “His injuries have been treated, and he has been given a draught to help control the pain –”

“If he needs the draught, then his injuries have not been treated,” she snapped.

From the bed, Alistair giggled.

“Answer the question I asked,” she ordered. “Or will I have to go to Senior Enchanter Wynne to find out why it is you’re so reluctant to be helpful?”

Mention of Wynne’s name deflated the last of the man’s bluster. “M-my apologies, my lady. The volume of patients we received from the battle, we had to prioritise our time and the mages’ energies.”

“Prioritise? You seem to have enough of both time and energy spare to follow me from one end of this place to the other hissing at me like a goose,” Rosslyn said dryly. She let the healer wilt for a beat longer as he tried to think of a response, before drawing herself up to her full, commanding height. “Fetch me a bowl of warm salted water, a clean cloth, and some elfroot salve,” she ordered.

“My lady…”

“Now.”

He did as he was told, mumbling an apology as he stumbled backwards out of range of Rosslyn’s cold glare.

“It’s nice when you’re angry at someone who isn’t me,” Alistair mused before turning his attention back to Cuno. “Who’s a good dog? Yes, you’re a good dog, yes you are!”

She frowned. “You say that like I’m always angry at you.”

The healer bustled back in, keeping his head low as he laid a water bowl and a small clay pot on a collapsible table he set up by the bed.

“That will be all,” Rosslyn said when he remained hovering a few feet away, only relaxing when the sound of his footsteps retreated out of earshot. She turned and shrugged off her cloak and gambeson, laying both across the foot of the bed before rolling up her shirtsleeves.

“Um, what are you doing?” Alistair asked as she sat down. The bed was very narrow. He tugged the blanket back up to cover his chest as far as possible, for decency, suddenly light-headed and rather warm to feel her thigh laid alongside his hip. Water plinked into the bowl as she soaked and squeezed the excess out of the cloth.

“I refuse to talk to someone so unkempt,” she breezed. “It’s undignified.”

“Unkempt?” He looked down at himself, pouting. “I am not.”

“At least tell me this isn’t all your own blood.”

“I – hm. I’m not sure.” He focussed on the way Cuno was butting his head into the crook of his elbow, because the only other thing to focus on was Rosslyn’s studious frown, the way her lips parted slightly as she trailed the cloth over his forehead. It was hard to think when her touch brushed so gently over his skin. “I remember there was a big guy with an axe and an even huger moustache, and then I think someone fell on me, but I was trying to get – Teagan!”

He shot upright and yelped as the movement wrenched his injuries. The next thing he knew was Rosslyn’s hand pressing his shoulder back against the pillows.

“Lie back, or you’ll make it worse,” she instructed. “Teagan’s alive. A lot of people are, thanks to you.”

“Thanks to…? No. I didn’t really do anything.”

She rinsed the cloth. “You saved half our mages and kept our lines from collapsing even when you were overrun.” Her mouth quirked. “His Majesty is very impressed.”

“King Cailan is here?”

Panic churned in his gut. Now – now was the time to tell her everything, about his past, his heritage, every secret about who he was that he had ever kept hidden away. But the drug the mages had given him fogged his brain and fear weighted his tongue. She searched his face, watching him with the kind of patient silence that waited for castle walls to turn into ruins. A memory of Isolde offered itself up then, the pinched force of her glare as she waited for him to confess just who it was spilled paint on her favourite dress.

The image clamped his jaw shut. Rosslyn was a noble. He was a bastard. That was all they would ever be.

“I thought you sent the king to Redcliffe?” he checked, trying to turn her attention away from himself.

She snorted. “Nobody tells a king to do anything.” For a while she wound the cloth through her fingers, chewing her lips together so hard it must have hurt. “He’s the one who led the cavalry.”

“Oh.”

“Still,” she added brightly, “He’s out of Denerim, which was our main concern, and his presence has certainly put new energy into the soldiers. And as for you…” The smirk returned. “There’s talk of making you a proper field commander and everything.”

“What?” His eyes widened in mock horror. “No. no, nonoo no no no. I can’t command an army. Baaaaaad things happen when I lead.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t look at me like that. Before you know it, we’d be stranded in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by – by giant nugs, and I wouldn’t have any pants. Maybe not the last bit, forget I said the last bit,” he added. “Unless…” He leaned forward, eyebrows waggling, before he could stop himself. “Are you now imagining me without any pants?”

It took a beat for her to respond. “You are a very strange man.”

“Some women would call it charm,” he retorted.

“And you’d find most of them serving drinks in taverns.”

“That’s cruel.”

Conversation faltered after that. When most of the dirt was wiped away from his face, Rosslyn shifted closer and set to cleaning out the deep gash on his cheek, wincing in sympathy every time he grimaced at the sting of the salt. It was an ugly wound, but the edges were straight enough that it ought to heal with little scarring. She had to pause every few seconds to tilt Alistair’s head back towards the light, because he kept turning to study her face no matter how she told him to hold still, and after a while it became easier just to leave her fingers resting against his jaw, with his stubble prickling against her skin.

“There, done,” she said, and leaned back with a satisfied curl of her mouth. “You look almost presentable now.”

“There’s no need to be patronising.” He watched as she rinsed out the cloth for the final time, his giddiness from the sedative and from her touch wavering when he noticed the stiffness of her shoulders, the tension in the line of her neck. “You’ve spent all this time on me, and I haven’t even asked,” he muttered. “How are you?”

“That’s a fine question coming from the man lying in a tent with at least three broken bones.”

Alistair shook his head. “What happened to Howe?”

He got no immediate answer. Instead, Rosslyn busied herself folding the cloth, the muscles in her jaw tight and her gaze turned deliberately away from him as she unstoppered the lid on the clay pot. A bitter-sharp whiff of elfroot and peppery knightsfoil caught in his nose when she scooped up some of the salve on her index finger and held it to the wound.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

“I’m sorry for before,” he pressed. “This morning – yesterday – whatever day it is now. There were things I shouldn’t have said.”

“Hold still.”

“Rosslyn.”

She slumped, her hand falling from his cheek to wipe the excess salve away on her breeches, turning her body away again with an unsteady sigh. Should he reach for her, try to bring her back to him? He cursed his splinted arm, and his ignorance, and his cowardice as he fought the urge to pull her closer, to trace his fingertips along her hairline, to bury his head in her shoulder and tell her in no uncertain terms how glad he was to know she was alive.

“I had him, Alistair.” She still didn’t look at him, her gaze instead softening on Cuno, who came to push his head into her lap and lick her hands clean. “He was right there, right in front of me, but…”

He realised. “You came back for us instead.”

She nodded.

“Well, err, I’m quite glad you did choose to come back,” he said, unsure of what else to say.  Tentatively, he stretched out his hand and brushed her arm. The unexpected contact made her jump; her gaze flicked between his face and the warmth of his fingers on her skin, her expression frozen in shock.

“You saved a lot of lives.”

She frowned, her words no more than a whisper. “And now all of Highever will suffer for it.” Then propriety asserted itself again, and she shrank away, leaving his hand to linger on the empty air as she reached for her discarded gambeson and cloak.

“It’s late,” she said. “You should get some rest.”

“I… of course.”

Alistair settled back down into the pillows as comfortably as possible and tried to ignore the cold squirm forming in the pit of his stomach with every brusque step she took further away from him. When she paused in the doorway to let Cuno amble past and licked her tongue over her lips, he leaned up again, hopeful for whatever she would say.

“Rosslyn?”

“I… About yesterday morning…” She shook her head, the words lost. “Forgive me.”

And then she was gone.