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mk-wizard · 4 years ago

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Optimus Primal: Analysis of a bot who achieved “Nirvana”

Hello. It’s been a while since I’ve done a Transformers article, so to make up for lost time, I am going to do one on a character who was not only famous for their various bodily transformations, but also their spiritual transformation. I am talking about Optimus Primal.

So to get started, what exactly is Optimus Primal besides a Maximal who shares a name and helmet style with Optimus Prime? If you’re thinking that he is the Maximal equivalent of Optimus Prime, you would be dead wrong. Despite his name and looks, Primal is a great hero by his own merit who achieved greatness through grit, hard work, self sacrifice and inner growth on his own and without standing even for a moment on the shoulders of any giant. If anything, he is the reason Optimus Prime lived to make his own legacy. To understand and appreciate all of this, one must delve deep into the life story of Optimus Primal.

In the beginning, Primal was an average ranking leader of an exploration ship called the Axalon and his mission was to observe and collect data on other planets and their life forms. He was intelligent, honourable and not above having a sense of humour. However, he can turn and be very stern. The fact that he was young and inexperienced also showed in how he would have slip ups like making bad decisions, making one too many speeches and even losing his temper. All the same, he was the type who would learn quickly from his mistakes and constantly grow. He is also a skilled fighter with guns, swords and he is shown to be a martial arts master of some kind. He also seems to be part of the air force hence having the ability to fly in robot mode.

One fateful day, he was tasked with following and apprehending Predacon Megatron who stole the golden disks. The pursuit led them to getting stranded on prehistoric Earth though at the time, neither faction was aware that this was Earth yet because it was so different from the Earth they were informed of in the history books. At first, Primal chose a gorilla as his alt mode which proved to be one of the most useful beast alt modes in the series. As the Beast Wars (though here in Canada, the series was called “Beasties” for some reason) progressed and after several encounters with some mysterious aliens who intended to destroy prehistoric Earth, Optimus Primal unintentionally sacrificed himself to save the planet, Maximals and most of the Predacons. In the aftermath, the planet was changed and everyone could now see that they were on prehistoric Earth and with time, Primal was restored to life by having his spark transferred to an transmetal body. He could still transform into a gorilla though now he could fly even in his beast mode as he now had a hoverboard similar to the Silver Surfer’s.

During the second half of the war, the series became progressively darker and Megatron’s deeds became more sinister if not homicidal as he was now not above killing his own and even going as far as attempting to kill a comatose Optimus Prime in the Ark after he discovered it. Primal also clearly lost a lot of his innocence as he became less optimistic, more tense and while his honour remained intact, his hesitance to fight with full force with gone. In order to save Optimus Prime, he temporarily held his spark into his own body though holding the spark of a Prime had side effects on his own spark and body. Primal underwent a powerful change of which he became a giant quadruple changer, his firepower was at its peak and it can be theorized that a part of Optimus Prime’s divine connection to Vector Sigma was transferred to him.

In this new powerful form and now gaining clarity on the severity of the situation, Primal was more motivated than ever to defeat Megatron and return to Cybertron so history could no longer be tampered with. And while he did succeed at defeating Megatron who also underwent his own upgrade after exposing his own spark to the spark of the Decepticon Megatron, this victory was not without a price. When the Maximals returned to Cybertron, Predacon Megatron managed to take over the planet forming a new faction of mindless drones known as Vehicons which he controlled through a cybernetic psychic link, and in the process, wiped out the memories of the Maximal team and reduced them back to their beast forms’ lowest level.

Luckily, Primal managed to gather his team and find Vector Sigma and the entity/program known as the Oracle which purified them and gave them new upgraded techorganic forms which they all retained for the entire run of the Beast Machines series. At this point, Primal was no longer a naive mech of science and had become very hardened as well as fanatical without how he believed the Oracle was guiding him towards wiping out all technological life on Cybertron which also put him at odds with Cheetour who used to look up to him. After the devastating loss of Rhinox who was reprogrammed into the evil Tankor, Primal fell into a depression which affected him on both a physical and spiritual level, but he was brought to his senses after speaking to the spirit of a now purified Rhinox and with the support of his team. He now also realised the Oracle wasn’t guiding him towards eliminating technology. It was guiding him towards finding a balance between technological and organic life. With this new mindset, Primal stayed on this spiritual path though he now handled it with a cool head and a more enlightened tone until the final face off with Megatron. In the final face off, Primal sacrificed himself by plunging himself and Megatron into Cybertron’s core allowing the entire planet itself to transform for the better into a technorganic state and also reawaken the entire population. While the heroic deed did cost Primal his life, his spark was at peace as it joined the Allspark and it is hinted that he became something even more in this state.

Since his time in the Beast Wars and Beast Machines CGI cartoons, Primal has made some appearances in the comics, several Japanese mangas and animes, and may make a debut in the final season of War for Cybertron.

Out of all of the character in the Transformers lore, I find Primal is the one who had the most growing up to do and he not only did grow up, he stepped out of a large shadow he didn’t even know he was in and became something amazing. He is also one of the few heroes who I initially didn’t like. And even now, I didn’t like the naive, long winded immature person Primal was initially as he did feel like someone who was copying Optimus Prime, but as he grew up and dropped the naivety, my feelings towards him changed (pardon the pun). By the time Beast Machines rolled around, I outright loved him and I loved his newfound spiritual Buddha like approach. He found his own identity and it was inspiring. It was also this version of Primal that convinced me to look at the Transformers as being more than just machines. Showing that they had a religion, a culture and more made me see the Transformers in a new light that stayed with me for life.

I admit he is not like Optimus Prime, but in his defense, you simply cannot compare the two to each other because they are so different and their journeys were different. Prime’s war was more political and social, and he was much older and wiser. Primal was really just a young scientist who was asked to do a job though circumstances dragged him into a battle. With time, that battle became a rebellion. And also, Prime and Primal’s personalities are just vastly different. The very point of each of them is that they are not like each other and that is something to be celebrated not scorned. Optimus Prime was the leader for the team, era and war of his time and Optimus Primal was the leader for the time, era and war of his.

My overall analysis is that I can see why people are not initially endeared by Primal as I myself was one of these fans who wasn’t, but as his life experiences mature him, you fall deeply in love with the person he becomes and I think that was the point of him. I think that the writers purposely made him to rub you the wrong way because he was so immature and I think that makes him a cleverly written character. And also relatable. I’m sure by many people’s standards, we weren’t as likeable when we were immature and had a tendency to talk too much and not listen enough. Perhaps Primal could be seen as a Transformers character who embodies a metaphor for how growing up and gaining wisdom can change a person.

With all that said, Beast Wars and Beast Machine is worth watching thanks to Primal if not for the story, to at least see the journey of Optimus Primal, but that is all my opinion. What is yours?

If you have a Transformers theory or character analysis you want explored, please let me know in my ask box. And please, support me through Patreon or Ko-fi if you want me to make Transformers merch and videos. Or if you want a commission of your favourite bot, let me know in my shop. All links are on my profile page.

Thanks for reading and as always, stay safe.

#transformers #optimus primal #primal #maximal #optimus prime #predacon #transformers beast wars #transformers beast machine #growing up #beast wars #beast machines #beasties #rhinox #vehicons #tankor #allspark #oracle #vector sigma #character analysis

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katfox · 4 years ago

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♡Mysme Fluff Day 5: Proposal♡

Characters: Yoosung, Seven, Jihyun.

Word count: Roughly 400-600+ each.

Summary: The guys are hearing wedding bells, can you hear them too? Watch as the guys confess their eternal love for you.

YOOSUNG || Video Game ||

Yoosung saw the good in you right from the beginning, sure he confused you with his dead relative but he needed closure. He was grieving so you understood, you wanted nothing more that to be his rock and make him strong. He wanted nothing more than to be a man in your eyes, and that's how you treated him. The relationship grew quickly and before you know it Yoosung was graduating from college and starting to work at the animal clinic. You kept supporting him through everything, the best times and the worst times.

Work was stressful in the beginning since he was trying to also build his credentials to open up his own clinic. You always stayed by his side whether you stayed up late supporting him or bringing him meals so he didn't forget to eat. One of his favorite stress relief days were playing LOLOL with you, it was great for him to escape his work mind and enter a fantasy world where you can do anything. It was even better that you had joined in on his raids, he never thought he'd have the perfect relationship. It wasn't perfect but in his eyes he felt it couldn't be any better.

He asked Zen for advice on how to go about things, of course Zen would suggest taking you to one of his shows and proposing. "Hyngg, stop messing around!" They couldn't really agree on how but they could agree on a ring, it was dainty but so beautiful. An idea popped into his mind, he thought this was the perfect way to pop the question.

He managed to get his friends together in the game for a "raid", but they all had a part to play for this special day. He came home feeling "drained", well that is half true but his excitement and love for you overpowers that. He asks you if you want to play, how could you resist him. You go to your office room and take your seats in your respective desks; in this case he was happy that they were facing away from each other and on opposite sides of the room. While playing he tells you that you need to go onto the cliff and look down to see if you can spot something needed for the fight to which you agree.

The crew had been placing flowers on the field spelling out "Marry Me?" He asks if you're at the top, you reply and yoosung gets up kneeling behind you holding the ring waiting for you to see and turn around. "Will you?"

SEVEN || Scavenger Hunt ||

Seven had been really protective of you since the day his emotions came out, he couldn't hold it back any longer. He loved you more than anyone could ever understand. You were his star, the brightest one with sparkles and glow. He didn't want anyone else, it would be impossible to find someone else that really understood him and how he lives his life. He wasn't about to miss out and lose you.

for the past few nights he's been staying up, that's not out of normal for him but these nights were different. He would lay with you as you slept and run his fingers through your hair while whispering sweet nothings into your ear. During that time he wondered what he can do to ask you, so that you'd be the moon in his planetary pull. He looked around for rings and wondered what would make you the happiest. Silly thought though since you'd probably love anything if it was given to you by the man you loved.

Maybe a video game or maybe directly? "No.. maybe a scavenger hunt", that sounded more like him since he was playful and likes to tease. He went to his desk and went to everything that he could do to set up for this exciting day. Planning everything and getting the other members to agree with helping him, having them help was important because they were like family. He searches for a ring, if he couldn't find one he was sure to find a way to make one even if it takes everything he had.

He eventually came across a ring, it was a halo setting because you're his one and only space princess of course. You were more to him that you even knew, he thinks you're his angel sent from heaven. He takes these few days thinking about all the fun you've guys had in your relationship, all the silly cosplaying and crossdressing, teaching you small bits of hacking, and of course art of eating Honey Buddha chips and Dr.Pepper. He relives all the good times in his head and can't wait to make more forever.

Today's the day, he gets everything ready before kissing your head as you slept in. He left the sweetest note along with the first clue's envelope before getting in his car and driving to the final destination. Once you woke up and saw everything you get ready to go on this giant adventure knowing Seven. You start going through your day collecting the next clues with the gifts that came along the way. You make it to the final destination in what seems to have been a day of excitement. It was a planetarium, walking in was so pretty seeing all the stars above your head. Seven's kneeling down on the floor and before he can get a word out you drop your things, running over and tackle him gently.

"Does that mean yes? Haha"

JIHYUN || Photoshoot ||

He thought that there was no way you'd accept him after he left making you wait until he figured himself out. So he was relieved and overjoyed when you agreed to be with him. He loved you more than he loved the sun but you were happy just to be in his life at all. You love him like he was the moon, bright and guiding but not an overpowering glow. He really was precious, learning how to love you and leaning to respect himself the way you've always done.

He thought that you were beautiful, not because of the way you look but because your life brightens up any space you inhabit. He wishes he could've met you first, how better life would've been for him then. Although he suffered so much by her side he doesn't regret it because without her he would've never met and fallen into love with you. He was head over heels, properly this time without the repercussions of his love. When he looks at you he sees hope, strength, selflessness, and grace.

Over the period of time while he was gone, he thought about how he would prove himself to you. Thinking about how this life with you was the best dream he'd never want to wake up from. He cant say that he's ever had such pleasant moments with the person he loved until now. Every morning he wakes up first and just looks down at your beautiful face no matter how you're sleeping. He wouldn't change a single hair on your head, not even if his life was on the line.

This feeling of love and passion gives him butterflies everyday he's with you, although it's been years. Once while working on editing photos for a client a gust of wind flips a magazine open. It must have been a sign from the universe, or at the very least his mother watching over him. The wedding photography ad had given him the courage he needed to start making the plans to ask you. He confided in Jumin to help find a ring that suits you completely.

Jihyun thinks of all the possible ways to ask you without being suspicious upfront. And then the idea of a photoshoot hit him, you'd never suspect a proposal as you've always modeled in photographs for him before. He asks around for any potential locations until Seven conveniently sends you a secluded spot. Legally of course. He sets the props up and tells you the idea of a cliffside photoshoot; you agree happily.

You help with any of the packing since you want his shoots to go perfectly everytime. The next day you wake up to the man of your dreams still sleeping surprisingly, he must have been nervous about popping the question. You figure this would be a good time to start getting ready, seeing the color theme you try looking for a dress that would fit perfectly. It was long and elegant "maybe too much?", you thought to yourself outloud before a kiss gets planted atop your head. "Its beautiful like you," you couldn't help but smile.

You make it to the area, and you become almost breathless seeing the view of this place. He tells you were you stand and takes a few photos of you, some of you both and then he hands you the flower petals. He sets the camera to record before giving you the signal to do as you practiced. You spin around looking at the sky while tossing the petals to the sky as he gets down into position. Once you realize what's going on you see him down on one knee. "Marry me?"

@mmfluffweek

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heloflor · 4 years ago

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Regarding Craig in Buddha Box

So, watching this episode, there’s something that I want to talk about, something that, as I’ve heard, apparently worried and torned the Creek fandom a bit; and it’s the way Craig acts in this episode. More precisely, I want to talk about what he says to Cartman in the bathroom and its implications. To put it shortly, I believe that, while what Craig did was clearly shitty, why he did it is understandable.

Think about it : Tweek clearly has issues. He has some severe anxiety and even some paranoia; and his parents don’t give a shit about it. On the contrary, they’re only making it worse (*cough* weed in coffee *cough*). The only reason Tweek started to get better in the latest seasons in because Craig was there for him and the two of them are rubbing off on each other.

But thing is, Craig is a ten years old child who grew up in a family that doesn’t do feelings. We especially see it in the double episode “Pandemic”, the episodes with the giant guinea pigs : when Craig is upset about something, he either flips people off or shut down completely and becomes emotionless. Craig doesn’t do emotions. And suddenly, he’s put in a relationship with a partner who needs a lot of attention due to his issues caused by his own family. And as we see in “Put it Down” and in “Splatty Tomato” (the S21 finale), Craig tries; he really tries to be there for Tweek, but it’s not easy for him because it doesn’t come naturally.

So, in “Buddha Box”, it’s no surprise that he complains about how he sometimes feels like Tweek wants his constant attention. While he does clearly love Tweek and genuinely wants to help him (as we see near the end of “Put it Down” in which he’s unhappy in the cafeteria because he failed to help Tweek; and once he understands what he needs to do he immediately goes to see him), the relationship is overbearing at times. Craig is still a ten years old child, he shouldn’t be expected to “fix” his partner (though, honestly, no matter the age, nobody should be expected to ‘”fix” their partner. Instead they should support them and help them work through their issues the best they can).

Also, what is implied in “Buddha Box” can be seen in “The Fractured but Whole” with how much of a mess Tweek is during the first civil war fight (though according to Craig’s parents their son is also being pretty miserable) and, honestly, it makes me wonder about the possibility of the relationship falling into codependence on Tweek’s end; which is a toxic thing.

So my point in all this ? Basically, both sides of the argument are right to some extent. Tweek needs an actual therapist, he can’t just constantly dump all of his problems on Craig or their relationship might suffer greatly. Of course, I’m not saying he should hide everything to him. After all, there is no denying that Tweek needs more attention than your ‘usual’ partner, and Craig is the best thing that ever happened to him and for his mental state. But it’s just that Tweek needs the help of an actual professional on top of having Craig as moral support (though given how terrible adults are in this show and how little Tweek’s parents care, this might not happen very soon…). As for Craig, he needs to keep trying to be there for Tweek. An if sometimes it feels like it’s too much and he needs some time alone, he needs to tell Tweek instead of shutting him off like that.

You know, this whole thing kind of reminds me of how people apparently got angry at Kyle in “You’re Getting old” (the one with Stan turning 10 and starting to get depression) due to how he abandoned Stan but 1. Kyle tried to spend time with him, the best example being that scene at the theater with Kyle letting Stan come with them on the condition that Stan doesn’t complain; but Stan just keeps complaining, no matter how many times Kyle warned him. Also during the rest of the episode Kyle clearly wasn’t very happy about having to give up on Stan. And 2. Kyle was like 9-10. You can’t expect a child of this age to realize that his friend has depression and help him through it. What Kyle did by the end, refusing to spend more time with Stan in order not to get depressed himself, is how a child his age would act in this situation; and he shouldn’t be blamed for it, although his attitude in the second episode definitely felt shitty.

Finally, I’d like to point out, about “Buddha Box”, that having Tweek in this episode feels pretty clever. I mean, the episode is about making fun of people who use anxiety as an excuse to be assholes, but apparently a lot of people missed this point, thinking instead that Matt and Trey were saying that anxiety doesn’t exist (probably because of Kyle’s speech to Cartman). So I think that having Tweek in it is pretty clever given that he’s the only character who truly have anxiety, and the show seems to acknowledge it (I mean in the S21 finale, when Craig is trying to calm him down and Stan and Kyle show up, Craig says that Tweek is having a panic attack, which is a stronger term to use instead of saying something like “he’s freaking out”). And yet, he’s one of the characters who don’t use a box, showing the others’ hypocrisy more. Hell, Craig using one accentuate this point even further and makes it pretty hilarious and head-banging when the therapist tells Tweek of all people that Craig doesn’t respond to him because he’s scared due to his “anxiety”.

#South Park #South Park spoilers #Craig Tucker #Tweek Tweak #Buddha Box #Creek #South Park S22 #anxiety #depression #(just in case it might be sensible to some)#Flor talks

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breathingmotherearth · 3 years ago

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Fig Tree

By Mike Shanahan

17 January 2017 BBC Earth

Over 2,000 years ago, an important tree had one of its branches removed on the order of Indian emperor Ashoka the Great. It was under this very tree that the Buddha is said to have attained enlightenment. Ashoka bestowed kingship on the branch, and planted it in a thick-rimmed solid gold vase.

He then took the branch over mountains and down the Ganges River to the Bay of Bengal. There, his daughter carried it aboard a ship and sailed for Sri Lanka to present it to the king. Ashoka loved the plant so much that he shed tears as he watched it leave.

This story, from the epic poem The Mahavamsa, is about a kind of fig tree scientists call Ficus Religiosa. True to its name, an unbroken line of devotion towards it stretches back to thousands of years before Ashoka's time.

But F. Religiosa is not alone. It is just one of more than 750 fig species. No other plants have held such sway over human imagination. They feature in every major religion and have influenced kings and queens, scientists and soldiers. They played roles in human evolution and the dawn of civilization. These trees have not only witnessed history; they have shaped it. If we play it right, they could even enrich our future.

Most flowering plants display their blooms for all to see, but the Ficus species hide them away inside their hollow figs. And while most plants bury their roots underground, the strangler figs and their kin show them off.

They can even smother and kill giant trees, growing into colossal forms.

Take Ashoka the Great's F. religiosa. Buddhists, Hindus and Jains have revered this species for more than two millennia. The same tree featured in battle hymns sung by the Vedic people 3,500 years ago. And, 1,500 years earlier, it appeared in the myths and art of the Indus Valley Civilization.

Elsewhere in Asia — indeed across the tropics and subtropics — cultures have adopted fig trees as symbols of power and places of prayer. These figs feature in creation stories, folklore and fertility rites. The champion is the Indian banyan (Ficus benghalensis), a tree so big it can resemble a small forest from afar.

Banyans grow so large because the roots they drop from their branches can merge into stout pillars as thick as English oak trees. These false trunks support the banyan's huge branches, enabling them to grow longer and send down even more roots.

One banyan in Uttar Pradesh is said to be immortal. Another in Gujarat is said to have grown from a twig used as a toothbrush. A third is believed to have sprung up where a woman threw herself onto her husband's burning funeral pyre and died. That tree, in Andhra Pradesh, can shelter 20,000 people.

The first Europeans to enjoy a banyan's shade were Alexander the Great and his soldiers, who arrived in India in 326 BCE. Their tales of this tree soon reached the Greek philosopher Theophrastus, the founder of modern botany. He had been studying the edible fig, Ficus Carica.

Each Ficus species has its own wasp pollinator.

Theophrastus had noticed tiny insects entering or emerging from figs. Their story would turn out to be one of the most astounding in all of biology. More than 2,000 years would pass before scientists realized that each Ficus species has its own wasp pollinator, while some even have two. Likewise, each fig-wasp species can only lay its eggs in the flowers of its partner figs.

This relationship began more than 80 million years ago and has shaped the world ever since. Ficus species must produce figs year-round to ensure their pollinator wasps survive. This is great news for fruit-eating animals that would otherwise struggle to find food for much of the year. Indeed, figs sustain more species of wildlife than any other kinds of fruit.

More than 1,200 species eat figs, including one-tenth of all the world's birds, nearly all known fruit-bats and dozens of species of primates, dispersing their seeds as they do so. Ecologists therefore call figs "keystone resources". Like the keystone of a bridge, if figs disappeared everything else could come crashing down.

Figs do not only nourish animals. The year-round presence of ripe figs would have helped sustain our early human ancestors.

High-energy figs may have helped our ancestors to develop bigger brains. There is also a theory that suggests our hands evolved as tools for assessing which figs are soft, and therefore sweet and rich in energy. While the first humans benefitted from fig biology, their descendants mastered it. Ficus species are among the first plants people domesticated, several thousand years ago.

Farmers even trained monkeys to climb trees and harvest them

The ancient Egyptians seized upon a species called Ficus Sycomorus, whose pollinator wasp was either locally extinct or had never arrived. By rights, this species should not have yielded a single ripe fig. But through a stroke of luck or genius, farmers worked out that they could trick the tree into ripening its figs by gashing them with a blade. Before long, the figs were a mainstay of Egyptian agriculture. Farmers even trained monkeys to climb trees and harvest them.

Egypt's fig trees fed both bellies and beliefs. The Pharaohs took dried figs to their graves in order to sustain their souls on their journey into the afterlife. They believed the mother goddess Hathor would emerge from a mythic fig tree to welcome them into heaven.

To the north and east, the Egyptian fig's sweeter cousin, F. Carica, became an important food to several other ancient civilizations. The Sumerian King Urukagina wrote about them nearly 5,000 years ago. King Nebuchadnezzar II had them planted in the hanging gardens of Babylon. King Solomon of Israel praised them in song. The ancient Greeks and Romans said figs were heaven-sent. Their allure can perhaps be explained by another crucial point. Aside from being sweet and tasty, they are also packed with fibre,vitamins and minerals. These nutritional benefits have long been known. "Figs are restorative," wrote 1st-century Roman philosopher Pliny the Elder, "and the best food that can be taken by those who are brought low by long sickness."

A famous example of the healing power of figs appears in the Bible. Hezekiah, King of Judah, was "sick even to death" with a plague of boils but recovered after his servants applied a paste of crushed figs to his skin.

These chimps may have been self-medicating

The healing power of fig species is not limited to their fruit. Medicines developed over millennia by people throughout the tropics make use of their bark, leaves, roots and latex.

The use of fig trees as living medicine cabinets may even pre-date the origin of our species. Our closest living relatives, chimpanzees, also appear to turn to these trees for their curative powers, suggesting our common ancestor with them did too.

Researchers working in Uganda occasionally observed chimps eating unusual foods, such as the bark and leaves of wild fig trees. These chimps may have been self-medicating, the researchers concluded. And for good reason, tests show that compounds in the fig leaves and bark are effective against bacteria, parasites and tumours.

Fig trees have not only helped civilizations and cultures rise. They have also watched them fall, and have even helped to hide their ruins. For instance, the great cities of the Indus Valley Civilization boomed between 3300 and 1500 BCE, but they were lost to history until 1827, when a deserter on the run from the East India Company called Charles Masson arrived there. The fig trees helped forests return and overwhelm the abandoned buildings Giant Strangler trees dominated the landscape. Ruins poked out of mysterious mounds. Local people told Masson they were relics of a society that collapsed after some divine intervention corrected the "lusts and crimes of the sovereign". In fact, it was a prolonged drought that brought down the Indus Valley Civilization Strangler figs also replaced drought-stricken people at the Mayan pyramids at Tikal in Guatemala, and the Khmer temples of Angkor Wat in Cambodia. In each case, the fig trees helped forests return and overwhelm the abandoned buildings.

Their seeds germinated in cracks in the stonework. Their roots ripped masonry apart and crushed walls with their weight. Their figs attracted animals that in turn dispersed seeds of dozens of other tree species. And so, the forest reclaimed these sites. This power has also been observed on volcanoes like Krakatoa, whose 1883 eruption purged the island of all life. Fig trees that recolonized the bare lava were instrumental in encouraging forest to form anew. Across the tropics scientists are now replicating this effect, planting fig trees to accelerate rainforest regeneration in areas where trees have been lost due to logging. All this means fig trees can provide hope for a future with a changing climate.

Fig trees could also help us adapt to extreme conditions.

In north-east India, people encourage fig roots to cross rivers, enlace and thicken to form robust bridges, saving lives in monsoon rains. In Ethiopia, fig trees are helping farmers adapt to drought by providing vital shade to crops and fodder to goats. These two approaches can also be applied elsewhere.

In all, fig trees can help us limit climate change, protect biodiversity and improve livelihoods, as long as we continue to plant and protect these trees, as humankind has done for millennia.

Many cultures around the world developed taboos against felling fig trees. Unfortunately today, these beliefs are fading from memory. We would do well to revive them.

Their long history serves as a reminder that we are the ones who are recent arrivals on an Earth in an 80-million-year-long Age of Ficus. Our future will be more secure if we put these trees in our plans.

Mike Shanahan is a freelance writer with a doctorate in rainforest ecology. His new book about fig trees is out now (published in the UK as Ladders to Heaven and in North America as Gods, Wasps and Stranglers).

#figtree #nature #motherearth #spirituality #happy tree friends

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fifteenskies15 · 5 years ago

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Unexpected Turn

(Yandere Tokito Muichiro x Demon Reader)

Part 2 of "Twisted Kaguya Hime"

Summary: Demons seems had habit to take anything or anyone that people love... Just like how Muichiro lost you, but unlike most people, Muichiro will claim what's his even if it means facing his own ancestor and the upper moon one, Kokushibo....

Admin's Note: @brinthie and Muichiro stans, did you all ordered a Yandere Muichiro? No? Well, too bad, whether you like it or not, this is the content I'm going to feed you all, my beautiful Muichiro stans *evil laughter* in here our giant baby Muichiro has turn into a lovestruck yandere just to claim you from six eyed sexy bastard Kokushibo after he took you away, also, mind you, this part is kinda rushed so don't expect much from me

Trigger Warning: (Slightly?) Gore, blood, slight suggestive theme, possessiveness, and slightly obsessed Muichiro

Also this song here is something Mui sing to maintain his sanity (just imagine his voice when he sing this)

"I will never let you go"

"I will never take my eyes off you"

"I won't forgive those who tried to separate us"

"I won't forgive myself for hurting you at some point"

"I will move heaven and Earth if that means I can be with you"

"Even if that means destroying the world itself..."

"I will do it to prove my worth, to show you that I'm the only one who is worthy for you"

----

Day and weeks pass, Muichiro became so obsessive on finding you, even his fellow pillars find his behavior rather odd, sure he did always zoning out, staring off the space and not focusing on the thing the others said, but this time he looked weird.

He always stare at the amulet you purposely left for him, he would whispered things like "I will find you", "Wait for me", and "That bastard is going to pay" which creeped the other pillars out, even for someone like Sanemi and Giyuu is genuinely scared of his sudden change.

Everyone knows that Muichiro would stay in his estate when there are no mission from Oyakata-sama, but this time, he's not in his estate, no one knows where he gone to, even the kakushi are unable to find the illustrious mist pillar.

Where has that young man gone to?

...

Well, it's not really hard to answer that

He's off to find his demon lover, he could care less about the people in demon slayer corps, his sole focus is to find you...

You, yes you.

The girl/man he's been looking for ever since the day Kokushibo had the audacity to separate both of you, no matter what you do and no matter where you are right now, he will find you, he will make sure that you return to his embrace.

Even if that means leave the demon slayer corps?

...

Yes, even that.

He will make sure he leave no stone unturned until he find you.

Even if you live in the moon like Princess Kaguya, He will rope it closer just to be with you.

With your amulet around his neck and unwavering determination to find you, he set up a journey and he will never came back until you're in his safe arms...

----

Muichiro wandered around aimlessly in hope to find you, people would believe that he's a wandering warrior in search of his lost love

They're not wrong but...

He's not just a warrior...

He's an insane warrior...

His hope has turned into an obsession, he manage to deceive people with his innocent smile, while in reality he just become a man with obsession finding his lover

He even cut down to those who dare block his way, and demons... Oh believe me when I said they suffered the most painful death

It's indescribably painful

The last thing those demon see is Muichiro's satisfied smile, aside from that, it looked twisted and terrifying, not to mention the hollering insane and manic laugh as he killed them, it strikes fear into people who heard it

Muichiro is fully aware that he's losing his sanity every second so he would sing a song that sounded terribly heartbreaking and morbid

"Like flowing in the pushed aside sadness, We two started rowing, wanting to go somewhere, If, in the powerlessness before secret desires, It's to erase the modest mutter"

He aimlessly wandering around while singing the song he made inside his head

"Let's finish it with a non crying heart, Corpse, become a cold prayer, Let's finish dyeing the scarlet petal, Look, the nothingness is coming flying, Flying down quietly"

He kept singing as he effortlessly cutting down the demon into bloody pieces

"I knew the fated blood decided in the previous world but I wanted to protect eternally that person's promise"

His voice was accompanied with the agonized scream of the demons, a smile spread on his lifeless, porcelain face

"The pain of leeches eating into the soft fair skin Again, whenever the flower blooms, I forget..."

He laughed as he saw red before him.

----

Another day and week has passed, tonight is full moon night

Ah, the nostalgia...

The moment when he always spend it with his lovely (name) and also the day he/she was taken away.

It's strange though...

The moon is red tonight...

It sure looks imposing and vibrant.

And by the Gods and Buddha, does his eyes tricked him?

That (H/L) (H/C) hair...

That (E/C) eyes...

Could that be...?

"(Name)..."

The figure looked around, trying to find the person who called her/him

She/he can't hear me...

"(Name)!"

The figure finally noticed him and there is no mistake that it was her/him...

"Muichiro?!"

You rub your eyes not believing who it is...But it's not your imagination...

So you run up to him

"Muichiro!!"

"(Name)!!"

You practically jumped into his arms, Muichiro hugged you tightly as if you would disappear at any moment

"Muichiro... it's... it's really you..." You say looking up at him, cupping his cheeks gently as he leant into your touch like it's his lifeline "It's me... I'm here, (name)"

You really happy that you can see him...

But something seems off, you couldn't just put it right...

"How...how did you know I was here?"

He took both of your hands, smiling "I have wandering around, searching for you everywhere, (name) that day you left me, I feel like part of me was missing, and the thought of losing you just...killed me"

You looked at him then to your amulet he's currently wearing, smiling to yourself, you pressed your forehead against his "I feel the same too, Muichiro... But know that I had no choice but to do this, for our sake and yours..."

He closed his eyes, drinking in all the proximity he got as he put his hands on yours "I don't care if I die, I don't care about me, I don't care if I have to die for you"

When he opened his eyes that's when realization hit you like a ton of bricks, his once lively mint eyes turned empty with trance of sadness, rage, desire and most of them all... obsession.

"Muichiro..."

"I can't believe you went this far just to claim my creation..."

The all too familiar voice snapped both of you as you both see Kokushibo just stood there, arms crossed, as he glared at both of you "Kokushibo-sama!"

"Upper moon one, Kokushibo..."

Muichiro said with hint of malice as he grabbed his sword "...The man who took my dear wife/husband away..."

Kokushibo scowled "Wife/Husband? Open your eyes, Tokito Muichiro... I'm sure you're fully aware that you're defying the law of this world... No demon or human can live happily together as one, and happiness? Those things are non-existent, so why bother chasing it?"

Muichiro glowered at the demon as he tightly gripped his sword "(Name), I want you to hide somewhere safe, away from him"

"But... Muichiro...I can't lose you"

"You won't lose me..."

Kokushibo just smirked "Foolish, naive, Muichiro...you know that your darling (name) is my creation, which means that she's/he's bound to me, IF you think you're able to kill me then that means you're killing her/him too"

At first Muichiro froze up at the word he said, but he won't falter as he grip his sword even more tightly "Not if I can help it..." He turn to you "Didn't I told you to hide?"

"But Muichiro, he's way too stronger than you, it'll be impossible to defeat him!"

A glimpse of annoyed and mad expression on his face somehow terrifies you

"Then you leave me no choice..."

He then knock you out, your consciousness left you, although you could feel that you're being dragged away somewhere...

"Now then upper moon one..." Muichiro menacingly unsheathed his sword "Let's settle this thing once and for all..."

Kokushibo smirked, an amused and intrigued as he did the same "Yes we shall..."

...

-----

Blood...

Blood everywhere...

The once dark bluish grass has been tainted with disgusting red.

Muichiro just stand in daze, cuts, bruises everywhere, and there's a big scar on his abdomen, his lifeless eyes looked at Kokushibo's crippled form as the demon slowly disintegrated into nothing

"I told you that I'll find a way to kill you" he say as he put his sword back to its sheathe, with that Muichiro left him to disappear

"So this is how is it..."

"I have been killed by my own descendant"

"All because of a comical thing called love"

"Fufufu... You're naive Muichiro..."

"I can't believe you have become an absolute madman because of love..."

"Little did you know..."

"You're just doing all my unfinished work..."

An amused chuckled rang out the silent night as the demon dispersed into nothing and only left a pouch with a flute inside it

----

...

...How long has it been since you were blacked out?

And what is this place?

...

Oh it's a shrine, but why are you here instead of The Fortress of Infinity?

Your thoughts was cutted off as familiar figure opened the door and walked in

It's Muichiro...

Muichiro, with his demon slayer mark, walk towards you, slightly limping, you widen your eyes as you see how bloody he was, and the big cut on his abdomen...

"(Name)..."

You rushed towards him as he slumped towards you "Muichiro! Oh my, your injury is severe, lay down, I'll stop the bleeding!" You tried to find something but your kimono is the only cloth that exists so you ripped it and pressed it against Muichiro's abdomen

"(name)... I did it..."

"Muichiro you better not talk too much, please"

"I killed him..."

Silence...

"You...what?"

A smile spread into his porcelain like face, and unlike the usual it was sickly sweet

"I killed the upper moon one..."

You widen your eyes, if Kokushibo is dead...

"Muichiro, I think you should be aware that..."

"You're not..."

...What?

"You're not dead nor gone..." He put his callused hand on your cheek "You're here and that's the only thing that matters to me"

He's right...

Kokushibo, your creator might be dead, but you're still here so that means...

You're out of his control

"Oh my, you're right! This is...oh wow..."

You're speechless

Freedom had never felt this good

"This is great news, Muichiro! I can't wait to spend time with you again! Well, I guess we better rest here before we came back to your estate"

Estate?

Oh yeah, he did have one.

But it doesn't matter now.

"No"

"N-no?"

Muichiro sat up and winced a bit and looked at you, and somehow... It scares you.

"Muichiro, but why? The corps is where you belong to..."

"And I know damn well what will they do to you, but don't you worry, my darling" he cupped your cheeks with a smile

A sickeningly sweet smile

"Muichiro, you scared me..."

"Am I?"

His warm breath tickled your lips "Muichiro what's gotten into you?!" You tried to shove him away but to no avail...

Why?

What happened to your sweet and kind Muichiro?

"Forget the estate and screw the corps" he slowly unsheathed his sword

"...And fuck those pillars"

"Muichiro, please!! Snap out of it!!" You wriggled away from him and backed away "Why are you avoiding me, love? Did I hurt you?"

No answer

But yes he did hurt you.

He hurt you by killing his old self.

"Come here, sweet (name), I'm longing for you to fall into my arms again, don't you feel the same too?"

"Muichiro, this isn't you..."

"What are you talking about, my cherry blossom? It's me, Tokito Muichiro..."

He walked towards you slowly, with a grin on his face.

"Your one and only true love..."

He pulled out his sword slowly, you gulped and tear up a bit, what is he doing and more importantly, why did he do this?

Why?!

"I'm a human and I would die anytime soon... And the thought of death tearing us apart makes my blood boil"

Oh no...

No...

No, no, no, no, no...

NO!!

"Muichiro, please!! Even if we were separated by death we-"

You screamed in pain as he cut the palm of your hand "Muichiro, No!! Please! Don't do it!!"

He didn't hear you and licked the cut on your hand as he swallowed the whole of your blood, "Why..."

"Do you remember what I said that day? I would do anything for you..."

You watch in horror as you witnessed him transformed into a being he should kill

"Even if it means I rope the moon so I could be closer with you"

His mint eyes turned cat-like and there's an infinity symbol on his temple

"Even if it means destroying the world..."

All his injury are quickly healed up and he looked at you with a smile

"And even if that means I turned into a being I hate, I will do it just for you"

This Muichiro is no longer your old Muichiro...

He's gone now...

He walked towards you and kissed your cheek as you just froze in fear, he's no longer your Muichiro now...

He's a demon, a literal demon.

The demon of the mist...

"And now, together, you and I will live happily with our soon to be family"

"...Forever!"

----

Admin 15: Wow... That sure just took a dark turn, Yandere demon Muichiro? I'm simply speechless myself, but anyway I'm very sorry that it made no sense or that it didn't live up to your expectations, I will try harder next time

#kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfiction #kimetsu no yaiba scenarios #kimetsu no yaiba imagines #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #tokito muichiro #tokito muichiro x reader #yandere trope #yandere muichiro #yandere kimetsu no yaiba

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silver-wields-a-pen · 5 years ago

Photo

Hisakawa Kagegorou waved an arm towards the group of young boys practicing katas. “As you can see, we pay close attention to the development of both the body and mind.”

The reporter hummed, though her brow creased. “How exactly does self defence improve the mind?”

“It encourages discipline and respect towards oneself and one’s opponents,” Kagegorou replied. Absorbing the grudging tone, he sought to smooth the woman’s annoyed attitude. “We are grateful for your understanding at our refusal to allow cameras inside. You will agree, exposing children to the press when they already have difficult lives would be a cruelty.”

She nodded, smiling, and smoothed wayward strands of blond hair aside. “Not like you gave us much choice,” she muttered under her breath. “So, you take in boys of any age, from any background and country in the world?” She scanned and logged several ethnicities among the group. “You bring them here and indoctrinate them to Japanese culture?”

Kagegorou didn’t bite at the insinuation. He clasped both hands together behind his back and chuckled. “You misunderstand the nature of our organisation.” He directed her towards the giant, gold-painted statue at the top of a short flight of polished wooden steps. “Our purpose is to gather and care for as many lost and abandoned sons as we can. Lord Buddha showed us the way many years ago, and we try to live up to the example He set. We place no expectations on our young to follow the religious faction of the Order. In fact—” he waved two boys over “—we have great respect for other religions and make allowances for practices if expressed to us.”

Both boys bowed to Kagegorou and the reporter.

“My guest wishes to know of your religious leanings,” he said to them.

The taller boy, of Indian ethnicity, with large dark eyes and mop of unruly hair said, “I am a practicing Hindu, Madam.” He slung an arm around his friend, adding, “Ben is Jewish.”

Kagegorou dipped his chin and said, “You may go.”

They bowed again and returned to their place in line.

“Wow,” the reporter gaped. “I, um, didn’t expect that. You don’t have a problem with those kids not wanting to follow your beliefs?”

Kagegorou chuckled. “The world would become dull indeed if all were the same. Come.” He gestured for her to precede him, then stopped as a beautiful young woman approached. “Ah, may I introduce my daughter, Inatsu.”

Inatsu bowed. “Forgive my intrusion, father.” She waited for permission to speak.

“Yes?”

Back straight, her gaze remained fixed at a point beside Kagegorou’s shoulder. “Father, Kun has returned and would like to speak to you.”

The reporter’s gaze sharpened.

“He may approach,” Kagegorou said with a relaxed mien. “He must be brief, I have a guest.”

Inatsu bowed again and hurried away.

“I thought women weren’t allowed.” The reporter gazed at Inatsu’s retreating back. “She’s gorgeous; could be a model.”

“Thank you,” Kagegorou said, taking credit for his adopted daughter’s good looks.

A Chinese man of average height approached. His gait sure and confident, oozed understated sex appeal. He paused before Kagegorou, shot the reporter a devastating smile, then bowed. “Inatsu informed me you have company, Sir.” He straightened and added with practiced charm, “She neglected to mention what a tenacious spirit our visitor has.”

The reporter chuckled, amused. “Tenacious spirit. That’s the nicest description for ‘nosy reporter’ I’ve ever heard.” She slanted a glance at Kagegorou. “Do you give your boys charm lessons, too?” She fussed with her hair and shot Kun a broad smile. “I have to admit I’m impressed.” She laughed, clarifying, “I thought I’d need a translator, but everyone has such good English!”

Kun’s gaze flicked to Kagegorou before he replied, “The school makes a point of educating its students in several languages, including English.”

“Wow, lucky.” The reporter’s blue eyes widened. “That kind of education is hard to come by, especially for poorer folks.”

“It is the purpose of the Order to improve the lives of those we take in,” Kagegorou said, magnanimous. “Once one becomes a brother, one is always a brother. As men, we have many silent expectations put upon us by society. It is our purpose here to ensure we exceed them for the betterment of all.”

The reporter hummed. “And how do you go about that considering all the ethnical and cultural differences your charges have?”

Kagegorou’s eyes crinkled, though he ignored the question. “What must you say that cannot wait?” He asked Kun. “Did your recent philanthropic mission not go well?”

The reporter’s head tilted. “Are you part of the Order?”

Kun bowed again. “Forgive me for not properly introducing myself. I’m Kun, one of the Order of Brothers Elders.”

“Ah, so you travel for fund raising ventures?”

Kun nodded. “As Father sees fit.” His warm brown eyes slid to Kagegorou in deference. “Everything is as it should be, Sir. I merely wished to confirm Inatsu’s instructions.”

Kagegorou looked indulgent as he patted Kun’s shoulder. “Yes, rest. You earned it.”

Kun’s brows pinched for the briefest moment, but he bowed again and left.

Kagegorou turned to the reporter. “We value our people.”

“I can see that,” she said, checking her notes. “Aside from your daughter your four sons work here, too?”

Kagegorou nodded. “Various duties. They have proven their worth; I do not play favourites.”

Escorting the reporter further into the remodelled temple, Kagegorou’s voice echoed as he described the Order’s history and purpose. The reporter left that evening with the exact impression he intended, though he still passed a message to one of his operatives to take care of her. No outsider could ever reveal what they saw of the Brotherhood sanctuary if they no longer breathed.

Tag list: @guardians-of-las-vyxen @evaniah @whimsicallytwisted @illthdar @rae-writes-the-thing @raylenequinn @hyba

@wildswrites

#writeblr #writeblr community #Brotherhood #Hisakawa Kagegorou #off page scene #Before Divinely Volatile #assassin romance #modern fiction #my wip

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kyaada · 6 years ago

Text

Marketing Belly Master Bait

by kyaada

Ever since Barrett started working at Chunk’s in the mall, he’d developed a bit of a cult following. Barrett’s collection of too-tight tee shirts never failed to highlight every succulent bump and bulge, and the tops combined with packed skinny jeans never failed to impress. Barrett had the most amazing pair of bubbled buns sitting atop mature tree trunk-sized thighs, finished off with meaty calf muscles. Of course, his immaculate fade and neatly trimmed beard gave him a timeless look of masculinity to his handsome features, deep blue eyes, and pearly white smile. When Chunk’s manager realized what a draw his recently hired ex-military muscled hunk had become, he immediately put him in the window-- so to speak.

After Barrett had finished his main tasks, the manager would set him up in a front table alongside the main walkway with one of the biggest sandwiches. Chunk’s was known for their huge stacked sandwiches and fresh breads, warning patrons that they may need to loosen their belts to finish one of the enormous two-handed sammies. The live eating demo was effective in drawing in a variety of customers. At the beginning of the sandwich, lady shoppers would file in to gawk at the handsome young stud while they’d split their lunch and still take half home. Near the end of the sandwich, Barrett would slow down a bit and labor as his stomach filled to the top. His tight tee shirt couldn’t hide his brawny tight bulge, and he’d just lazily lean back in his chair, giving up the thought of sucking it in. The post-sandwich advertisement would draw in the fat hungry dudes looking for a nice full gut, and Barrett would inspect them like cattle as they’d pile in for a good feeding.

A couple of months passed, and Barrett couldn’t help but notice how difficult it had become to squeeze into this hot jeans, much less get them buttoned. The big 6’2” ex-military hunk would stand in front of his bathroom mirror rotating around to inspect his budding love handles and protruding belly, still flexing his biceps to validate his manliness. Barrett would grope each of his pecs with satisfaction, causing each of his nipples to poke out against his tighter tee shirt.

One day, Barrett went into work to find that his manager had decided to double his demo time by having him eat two of the smaller sandwiches, which together summed up to about one and a half of the biggest ones he’d been regularly devouring. Initially, Barrett wasn’t too sure about the idea since he’d already fought especially hard with his top jeans button that morning. The manager upped the ante with two extra-special sandwiches for him, and Barrett happily gorged himself on the thick and meaty deli treats. The manager didn’t want him to have Barrett leave his feeding station for anything, so he brought him several Coke refills to keep washing down seemingly endless sandwich. The manager even brought him a couple of their popular side salads because the big beefer was getting so swollen.

Business was especially good that day late in that lunch rush as lustful fat guys lined up for large sandwiches, drawn in by the potbellied poster boy in front. Barrett just sat there like a god with his thick thighs pushed apart, shoulders back, and his stretched-taut belly bulging out from his marbled beefy pecs to his excruciatingly tight jeans waistband. Barrett applied both of his hands to his blown-up round belly and alternated pushing in with rubbing on each side of the prominent bulge. The big overfed stud breathed shallowly due to how much room his stomach was taking away from his lungs, and he managed a few choice belches that brought in some more wide-eyed guys. Chunk’s manager came out from the back after adjusting his impossibly hard dick in his jeans and approached his prime Grade-A beefball that adorned the front of his restaurant.

Barrett rested his hands on his thighs as the manager came up to him, showing off how the sublimely tight well-worn cotton hugged every bump and bulge, and perfectly outlined his plump belly button. Barrett tilted his head back and looked his manager in the eyes, “Oh my God...I’m so ff-ff-uu-uu-ll-ll-ll-ll.” The manager smirked as he reached down to push around on Barrett’s big bloated belly. Engorged Barrett emitted a combination of grunts and belches, unable to tighten his long-softened abs enough to protect his pregnant belly against the directed pokes and musical thumping. “Sorry, Barrett, we have those new Chunk-y S’Mores Cookies and we need to push ‘em. That means, we’re gonna have to push this stomach of yours a little bit more.”

Barrett’s eyes somewhat crossed as he processed the latest directive. “I dunno. I think ...” Barrett paused to let out a really big burp, “I think I might explode.”

“Nah,” said the manager, “a big strong guy like you? Pfft. That strong table muscle of yours will just s-t-r-e-t-c-h to accommodate extra loading. The worst thing that might happen is that you’ll have to pop that top jeans button.”

“Okay, alright, well, let me get ‘em.” Barrett insisted, scooting his chair back with an obvious noise. Spreading his thighs apart and dropping his hard gut through the open space, Barrett placed his hands on the tops of his legs to push himself upright. It was no small amount of effort lifting his bulk off of the chair, but once he succeeded he had the attention of most of the diners in the seating area. Barrett’s belly was bloated out in a circle in front of him, and the ultra-taut waistband of his ridiculously stuffed jeans was scrunched down to a fraction of its height. Just south of the hefty gut was another bulge that eagerly pushed against the low-rise zipper. The manager followed the wobbling stuffed stud, smiling at all of the attentive chewing faces. It was so difficult not to fixate on Barrett’s widened back and his stout bubble butt, and the manager fought hard not to just slap his fat ass.

Once Barrett was standing, he realized that it was going to be harder than hell to sit back down and continue to eat, so he compromised with the manager to stand at the end of the counter by the register to stuff in his melty delicious cookies. Capturing the attention of a very hefty daddy type in line waiting for his giant sandwich to be made, Barrett smiled at him and stretched his thick arms up in the air. The hem of his overburdened tee shirt inched slowly up the sphere like a curtain rising on a stage as it bared the divine appearance of Barrett’s thick treasure trail and his perfectly shaped deep belly button. The round-gutted daddy ventured closer to the register after being served his thick sandwich and dessert cookies, still captivated with the sight of Barrett’s bare crescent of belly and naughty zipper that had started to escape down its track.

“Well, these sure looked good so I had to have some,” said the fattened daddy, winking at the manager, who stood beaming behind the extra full Barrett. “After all, I gotta keep up my figure. The food is always so damn good and filling here-- I never know when to stop!” The fattened daddy finished signing his credit card receipt and poked the capped end of the pen into the side of Barrett’s thoroughly pumped lunchball. “Looks like I’m not the only one, guy.”

Barrett chuckled as he ran his meaty hand across his swollen gut, “yup, the hazards of the job, I’m afraid. You just gotta remember to stop before you pop!”

The manager put his hand on the big stud’s shoulder, “tell you what, why don’t you go have a seat with this nice gentleman while he enjoys his lunch, and I’ll make you one of our Gut Topper Cake Shakes. Deal?”

“Gut Topper? Well, today, it might just become a Gut Popper...but okay. Load me up...”

The two guys headed off for a table in the back of the seating area near the kitchen. The fat daddy couldn’t wait to start pushing food down his gullet, so he plopped his big butt down and started shoveling. Barrett towered next to the table for a moment deep in thought, then reached under his enormous belly bulge to fight with his jeans button. “Dude, I’m sorry, but these things are cutting me in half.” The fat daddy’s cheeks bulged with food as he witnessed Barrett’s abdominal muscle contortions caused by the stuffed stud’s efforts to suck in the protuberant swell, but finally Barrett was able to pop open the top and breathe a little.

“Ooofff,” sighed Barrett, giving his rounded midsection an invigorating rub. Barrett held on to his zipper as he sat to make sure that the open “V” of his jeans didn’t spread too wide in a family restaurant.

“I couldn’t help but notice those jeans were pretty much painted on ya, big guy,” remarked the fat daddy.

“Yup, I’ve gained a few pounds since I started working at Chunk’s. The manager feeds me up daily.”

“Daily feedings? You might want to get some pants with an elastic waistband so you can expand in comfort.”

Barrett hovered down and planted his meaty bubbles in the chair directly across from the fat daddy, pretty much looking like a leaned-back, very-pregnant Buddha.

“Well, I know what that’s like to plan ahead for such things,” said the fat daddy, “my wife has been overfeeding me for years.” He leaned back and thumped his obvious gut bulge, “can’t say that I mind too much, after all, I love food.” The fat daddy’s eyes cruised over the topography of Barrett’s tight tee shirt. “I used to look like you when we first started dating, well, you about 50 pounds ago and before you stuffed your gut today.”

Barrett chuckled again, his facial expression slowly turning into concentration as he tried to do arithmetic in his head. “...and you’re not as tall as I am. If you don’t mind me asking, how much do you weigh?”

“By the way, my name’s Josh.” Both had to spread their thighs apart to make room for their bellies so that they could lean in to shake hands. “I don’t mind you asking me how much I weigh-- in fact, I just got my 300 pound ribbon at Recipe Club.”

“Recipe Club?”

“It’s something my wife got us into. Just a small group started by women who love to cook or are learning how to cook, and they invite their guys to join them to enjoy their rather prolific production.”

“...and you got a ribbon?”

“Yeah, I guess it’s the opposite of what Weight Watchers rewards, but we watch our weight as well. Watch it increase!” Josh giggled. “Needless to say, the guys get more ribbons faster during the holidays. We have to weigh in when we get there, and some of us weigh again as we’re leaving... just for fun.”

“What a trip!”

“...speaking of trips, we just took the kids through Vegas and then on a Disney cruise, and I can’t believe the amount of food.” Josh continued through frequent large bites of sandwich, “it was like the ideal glutton vacation... I was powerless amongst all those buffets and high-calorie foods! My belly was so damn big and tight at the end of each night that you could have rolled me to our room. Roll... Burp... Roll... Burp...”

As Barrett was drawn in to the imagery of Recipe Club and Josh’s trip of unrestrained gorging, he wondered about the timing of certain things. “So, when did you go from DadBod to DadBalloon?”

Josh got a good laugh out of the pointed question. “Kid number two.”

As they were both still cracked up over Josh being fattened up, Chunk’s manager appeared with a large frosty cup and a funnel. “Okay, Barrett, tilt and open!”

Josh smiled broadly as he detected Barrett’s newness to the concept, though he suspected that he must have beer bonged a little during some wild parties. Barrett wrapped his full lips around the bottom of the funnel opening and the manager pushed it a little farther down into his mouth once he felt his lips tighten up to steady. As he poured the giant vanilla cake shake slowly into the funnel, he was careful not to spill a drop. Barrett’s eyes widened and he put his hand on top of his again-swelling belly. Josh stuffed his face as he watched the bottom of Barrett’s rib cage rise as his bloatation device deployed fully. One of the cooks was returning from his break and stopped by the filling station to put his hand on top of Barrett’s solid round protruding stomach ledge, “wow, it’s a Gut Topper! Barrett-- you’re gettin’ to be a whopper!” The cook couldn’t resist giving Barrett’s barrel a parting slap to hear him grunt.

Barrett’s breathing was getting quite labored towards the end of the giant shake, and his nipples were practically shooting through his ultra-taut tee shirt. The advanced size of the Barrett’s fattened belly coaxed the hem up again to bare succulent skin and dark-colored fur.

Josh nearly choked shoving food into his mouth at such a high rate of speed, but he got down his enormous sandwich just as the manager finished loading Barrett’s firm round Buddha gut. The manager lifted the funnel out of Barrett’s O-shaped mouth as the dangerously overfull stud licked shake remnants off of his lips and continued to swallow the rest down his gullet. Barrett just had to sit there with his hands down his sides, feeling that his beefy pecs were about to bump him in the chin at any moment. The manager nodded his head and reached down to thump the mighty round bellyful. The combination of thick muscle walls, a nice layer of fat, and a thoroughly packed digestive tract made the most sublime of deep satisfied sounds.

“Good God, that melon is ripe.” Josh critiqued, leaning back to rest his hand on top of his big sandwich lunch. “And Barrett bared it-- that shirt is too small for ya, big buddy!”

Barrett’s smile curled onto his lips with a bit of a delay caused by his food coma. After the manager left, Barrett put his hands on his overblown balloon and rubbed.

“Man, you look like how I felt after the 24 hour buffet pass in Las Vegas. You know, I knew that it was going to be a bad thing-- I could tell when I walked in the first place and saw all of the groaning, belching guys. They looked like fully engorged ticks about to pop. Well, that was me a day later because we just kept going back for more and more and more. My lovely bride overate, my daughter got bored, but my son found his groove. I was laughing at him little at breakfast because he’s got a weakness for waffles, pancakes, pastries, and bacon.” Josh laughed as he listened to Barrett wheeze with his eyes half-closed; Barrett’s fully distended gut had swollen even more with the cake shake, pushing him farther back against his chair. “Of course, he got me back later in the day after second dinner. We were back in the room, and I was bloated out on the floor next to the couch while we were all watching a movie. Ever since I read him “Hop on Pop” when he was a kid, he’s wanted to bounce on my belly-- especially after I eat too much. He thinks it’s really funny.”

Suddenly, Barrett emitted a lengthy bass-toned belch, causing both of them to laugh heartily. Barrett patted his thoroughly round belly and flexed his pecs. “I’m pretty sure that if anyone hopped on me right now, I’d pop for sure!”

Josh munched on his cookies and agreed. “You could bounce a quarter off of that gut right now, Barrett. You remind me of some of those big bloated-up young guys on the cruise ship. Poppin’ Fresh Pillsbury Doughboys gorging their way to tight-skinned ecstasy, unbuckling their belts and stuffing themselves like Thanksgiving turkeys. I would think ‘damn, I hope we don’t hit a rock and end up shipwrecked on some island full of hungry cannibals’” Josh said as he finished the last bite of his marshmallowy chocolatey gooey cookies.

“Ooof, a stuffed Thanksgiving turkey-- that’s how I feel at the moment,” Barrett admitted as he gave his stout round belly another rubbing.

“And look,” Josh said, supporting the astute observation. “Just squeeze you in between some big bowls of mashed potatoes, stuffing, gravy, and sit a pumpkin pie on top of your belly ledge for dessert.”

Josh glanced at his watch and realized that he was late to get back to work. “Guess I better get my fat ass in gear.” Josh hoisted himself up, satisfied with the extra-large lunch and conversation, brushing past Barrett just as he took that moment to stretch his arms up in the air. Josh paused to smack a couple deep-seated belches out of Barrett. “Keep eatin’, big guy, keep rollin’ down that path to the big 3-0-0... but keep an eye out for cannibals!”

~.~

Many weeks passed, and Barrett’s allure changed somewhat to the ladies who lunched at Chunk’s. It seemed that the amount of weight he’d gained was difficult for some of them to accept; after all, he’d plumped by forty pounds in a relatively short time after significantly long lunchtime stuffings. Barrett still presented as quite beefy with one foot still in the gym, but there was no denying his big round belly and widened booty that mercilessly stuffed his shrinking wardrobe. His handsome face had filled out accordingly and he had the start of a second chin hidden under his fuller beard; regardless, his piercing blue eyes and immaculate grooming still caused heads to pivot. Josh the 300+ pound daddy continued to come in once a week to stuff himself with sandwich, and Barrett always treated him to at least one Gut Topper. Josh would especially enjoy the belly blowout when Barrett personally funneled the extra creamy cake shake down his gullet.

Awhile back, the manager had hired a new cook when Chunk’s had added pizza to their calorie-driven menu. Barrett had recognized the guy immediately from high school, although Peter’s 5’11” frame had filled out some since those earlier days. Peter had been a swimmer all during high school and was always pretty wide-shouldered and lanky, which changed through his college experience in the dining halls. Of course, Peter recognized Barrett right away as well, and would tease him about how fat he’d become. Barrett would always comment right back about Peter’s modest college weight gain. Chunk’s cooks wore nice pullover shirts that bore the restaurant’s logo on the left breast, and Peter’s shirt was always a little pizza sauce-splattered and tight. Peter’s pudgy round belly pooched out over his Dockers taut waistbands, and no one could miss his pasta butt that stressed the seam in the back.

The two former schoolmates never really talked much in school, but they developed a friendly, yet somewhat tense, rivalry at work. Peter was slightly jealous with the fact that Barrett got away with hardly working and mostly just eating while he sat on his constantly widening ass. The manager had added pizza to Barrett’s daily demonstration, and Peter was usually the one that made the pie. Peter would deliberately pile on additional toppings, knowing that Barrett would have to stuff the slices down on top of his torturously large sandwich and sides.

After a month of silent warfare, both Barrett and Peter had packed on weight. Barrett was undeniably impressed with Peter’s bloat capacity and how much the littler guy could stomach in one stretching session. Peter, who loved the fact that his packed pizzas were adding to both Barrett’s bottom and front lines, immensely enjoyed the big stud’s trips in to the kitchen to moan about his overloaded gut. Barrett was supposed to sweep around the kitchen after his lunch demonstration, and he’d invariably be as close as possible to Peter so that he could bump him with his solid gutsphere. Barrett would belch in Peter’s general direction to egg him on, and soon Peter would march on up to the 6’2” beefster and playfully threaten to punch his big ol’ gut. Barrett would push his belly out even more and tell Peter to give it his best shot. The manager would always intercede in time saying “Don’t pop him! Barrett has to work tomorrow!”

Time bulged on, and the manager had to bring in a scale due to rising concerns about their Frontline Eater position, of which Barrett had done such an incredible job filling. “Boy, are you ever fat now,” the manager told Barrett as he processed the number on the scale’s display, “three hundred and twenty pounds. I’m afraid that we’re going to move you to back of house for awhile-- put the big beefer out to pasture, so to speak. Your gluttonous performances are still bringing in the fat guys, but the average group of ladies who lunch seem to think you’ve gotten too fat for them to fantasize about over their porky husbands.”

“Aw, come on!” Barrett spurted out, “I know women still look at me.”

“Well, yeah. They look at you and think about the big fat growling gut they’re going to have to go home and feed that night. All the work they’ll go through stuffing their husband’s belly enough so he’ll fall asleep on the couch and not bother them for the rest of the night.”

A vision of his fat daddy friend Josh popped into Barrett’s mind. “Some women enjoy feeding their hubbies-- in fact, they relish the thought of fattening them up.” Barrett’s crotch tingled a bit as he remembered Josh’s most recent Chunk’s visit when he owned up to weighing 350 pounds and whispering the most arousing admission in his ear. Josh had dreamed one night that he’d been stretching his belly for weeks in the hopes of growing it immense enough to hold a stuffed Thanksgiving Barrett.

The manager’s mind was made up, so he put Barrett next to Peter in the kitchen so that they could work out any issues the two had while Barrett shed a few pounds. The days went by with the two reminiscing about the old days and pretty much making a buffet of the prep tables. It was on a Friday when Peter offered one particularly compelling memory.

“You remember that time at the school assembly when three of you guys on the football team had a pizza eating contest in front of the whole school?” Peter asked.

“Oh yeah. My gut ached the rest of the afternoon,” Barrett confessed.

“Oh damn... well, you won....and you ate the entire pizza,” Peter recalled. “You had the biggest fucking belly that day...”

“I remember that.” Barrett smiled, “after school, I was sprawled out on the grass in Senior Square warning guys not to step on my belly.”

“You were wearing this really tight orange pullover shirt and I thought your belly looked like a big pumpkin.” As Peter shared his thoughts, Barrett chuckled and patted his much fatter, bigger belly. “I had like ten dollars and I wanted to take you to McDonald’s and get you whatever you wanted.”

“You did? Huh...” Barrett thought for a moment. “Guess that would have made you ‘Peter Peter Pumpkin Feeder’ in a way...” Barrett thought for another moment, “wait... that’s why you would makin’ my pizzas so big! You’ve been fattening me up on purpose!”

Peter slapped Barrett in his big ol’ belly. “Well, truth be told, you were already amply fattened when I started here... nicely marbled beef... I just wanted you to get a little fatter.”

“A little fatter? Well, I’m 320 pounds now.” Barrett stated, bumping his firm round gut into Peter’s fat belly. “Feel the size of this beast now!”

“My guess is that this beast needs to be fed,” Peter said, grabbing on to each side of the studly gut being pushed into him. “I’ve got ten dollars for McDonald’s after work...”

Somehow, Peter and Barrett kept their minds on finishing their shifts at Chunk’s, and agreed to meet at the nearest McDonald’s at six o’clock. Peter decided to keep his work clothes on, despite the fact that he smelled like an overweight pizza. Since he’d gone ahead and eaten his free work meal, his Dockers were exceptionally tight despite the fact that they were pushed down far below his fat belly. Barrett had gone home and rifled through a few drawers to find that famous orange pullover shirt from high school, only to find that he nearly ripped it getting it over his much more developed chest and arms, and the old top was no match for his very ample belly. The shirt couldn’t reach to cover his wide love handles and the hem created a crisp line around his big manly gut above his dreamily deep belly button. He had one last pair of jeans that he put forth his best effort to button, and walked out of the house looking like a giant overstuffed sausage.

Barrett walked in to the McDonald’s and immediately felt eyes gluing to his bared belly; among other sets, one set of eyes belonged to Peter, and another set belonged to Josh-- Barrett’s fat daddy friend from Chunk’s. Josh’s hefty wife turned her head to see who her chubby hubby was gawking at and seemed suitably impressed. Peter stood up, shifted his boner, and walked over to meet the vision in orange that wobbled his way closer.

“How about that-- that shirt fits differently than it did in high school, Barrett!”   “Just a little bit. I’m a few pounds heavier now.”

Both of them strolled up to the counter together, each enjoying the reaction of the chubby young counter dude whose mouth dropped open in response the audacity of Barrett’s attire.

“What do ya want? My treat.” Barrett offered, rubbing Peter’s shoulder.

“Oh, it’s my treat, Barrett.”

“Let’s do this-- I’ll get you what I want you to eat, and you can do the same for me. How about that?”

Soon enough, the two Chunk’s employees had decided on a booth across from where Josh and his wife still sat eating. Before taking a seat, Barrett and Peter said hello to the oversized married couple, carefully noting the pile of empty boxes and wrappers in front of Josh. Even though it was one of the booths made larger to more easily accommodate fat people, Josh was obviously stuck. The table’s edge butted firmly against his enormous round belly, and the portion above table level bulged onto the surface an inch. Josh’s ribs were shoved up and back around the bloated stomach, and it was as hard for him to speak as it was to breathe.

“Josh, I do believe that you’ve been fed into place!” Barrett said.

“Indeed he has,” came the voice from across the table. “We’re stretching his belly all day today-- kids are at their grandparents. There’s a young pup at Recipe Club that’s about to get his 360 pound ribbon and Josh has got to keep up! You must be Barrel-- I mean, Barrett,” she said, looking at the tall stud’s ample belly.

Barrett chuckled. “Yes, that’s me, Barrett. And I guess I do resemble a food barrel these days.” He shook her hand and introduced Peter. “Well, well, Josh. Just look at this huge belly wedged in this booth...” Barrett gently poked around on the top of Josh’s overstuffed belly.

“Careful, now... don’t poke too hard. You’ll pop the pig! He’s been eating all day to stretch his belly for an upcoming Vegas trip. I mean, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about that 24 hour buffet pass and wants to go for a three day gorging weekend.”

“Haven’t been able to get enough to eat today, boys,” Josh wheezed.

“That can definitely be a problem,” Peter observed with an unmistakably evil smile on his face.

Barrett thumped Josh’s enormous gut and said, “keep on stuffing, Josh-- Thanksgiving is comin’ and you’re either going to eat or be eaten!” Reaching over to his serving tray, Barrett grabbed a Quarter Pounder box and sat it on top of Josh’s solid ball of food.

Two McDonald’s employees, including the chubby guy poured into his uniform, brought two trays each over to where Barrett and Peter had chosen to plant their numbered sign. Without much more conversation, the two guys got down to business and began stuffing themselves. Josh sat and belched while he digested, watching with great interest as Barrett and Peter blew up in size. Their enthusiasm for gorging was amazing to watch. It was no surprise that they finished all of that food and four soda refills only to look at each other and say “More!”

Josh’s wife took his wallet up to the counter and surprised Barrett and Peter with another round of Big Macs, Quarter Pounders, fries, and Chicken McNuggets. Peter’s incredible ability to bloat up into a round ball raised eyebrows near and far in the restaurant. His Chunk’s uniform shirt’s hem inched up the stuffed belly ball, and his Dockers launched into space as he heaved a satisfied sigh.

“Your belly is gettin’ big,” Barrett said to his rotund dinner mate.

“Well, look who’s talking,” plump-bellied Peter turned around on the overstuffed stud. “It’s like someone connected that pumpkin to a tire pump!”

Barrett’s orange pullover had slid up above his packed-taut bloatsphere, exposing the full height of his treasure trail. Barrett’s belly button, with its fat rounded entry, begged for a chubby finger to explore its warm depths.

“I say we go pick up a box of donuts and go to my place, Peter.”

The two roundbellied twentysomethings thanked fat daddy Josh and his wife for their generosity and waddled their way out to their trucks. “Hope you get full enough, Josh!”

“Never!”

Peter picked out the fat pills at the best grocery store bakery in town, making sure to choose an enticing array of all kinds, including extra-filling-fattening cream-filled ones, before speeding on over to Barrett’s address.

“C’mon in if you have donuts...” Barrett teased as he stood there in his ridiculously undersized orange pullover and underwear with a spot of wet pre-cum at the end of his fully lengthened cock.

Peter broke into a sweat from the heat radiating off of the engorged stud, shaking a little as he set two boxes of donuts on the dining room table. Barrett slapped Peter’s butt that was as yet encased in the seam-stressed Dockers, “damn your ass got fat after high school.”

“I like to eat,” Peter told him turning his head sideways.

“I can tell. The pregnant belly was another dead giveaway.” Barrett pulled Peter’s pants down and bent him over the dining room table. Peter’s stout full belly smacked on the surface like a gargantuan slab of bacon and Barrett watched his sides bow out under the pressure. Barrett shifted his loaded cock into the upright position and rubbed it back and forth between Peter’s plump buns. “Fuck that feels good....my gut’s so fucking big that I can’t see what I’m doing, but I can definitely feel the heat from your hole...”

“Jesus, your dick is as big as I always thought it was...” Peter grunted.

“You got me so hot that I’m brimming with cum today... if I pumped your ass right now, I’d shoot a load so fat that your belly would explode.”

“Do it, fat stuff,” Peter begged, “because after you pop my cherry in grand style, I’m gonna feed you every last donut in that box. You stuff my butt and I’ll bust your gut.”

Nearly breaking the table in the process, Barrett finished the deed, pumping Peter completely full of his seed.

Taking Barrett by the hand and grabbing the box of donuts, Peter led his round target into the bedroom. Getting situated leaned against the headboard and spreading his legs far apart, Peter motioned for the ballooned stud to lay belly-up on him with his head on his shoulder. Once Barrett was in place, there was not going to be any moving him for an extended period of time. Peter’s view around Garrett’s head was of a tall round mountain that wobbled from side to side when the bed shook. “Will you just look at the size of this fucking tank?!” Peter put his hands on either side of Barrett’s enormously swollen stomach and spread his fingers. Gently shaking the massive sphere of manflesh, Peter breathed heavily in Barrett’s ear as the heavy stud continued to weigh down on his own achingly full stomach. “Soldier, you’ve really let yourself go...your punishment is going to be severe... forcefeeding until your greedy belly bursts like an overblown balloon.”

Peter picked through the donuts and began stuffing them into Barrett’s eager maw in rapid succession. As icing began to collect in the overfed boy’s beard, his tongue worked overtime to get every last bit. As Barrett was chewing nearly unmanageable mouthfuls, Peter rubbed all over the swelling stomach. With a whole box of donuts down the gullet, there was a giant mound formed that pushed straight up in the air. Peter thumped on the top of the donut dome, amazed at how dense it sounded and the volume of belch it quickly produced. Barrett’s advanced gut was easily the size of a beach ball, and Peter was wishing that he had a view far enough away to fully appreciate its fullness.

“Oh God, I’m gonna pop,” Barrett moaned.

Peter pushed his index finger into the top of Barrett’s solid donut dome and tested it for doneness. “Nope, you’re not ready yet,” Peter whispered in his 320+ pound stud’s ear and opened the second box.

Engaged in relentless stuffing, Barrett’s gutsphere stretched wider and taller. Peter spread his fingers as far apart as possible to rub as much belly at once as he could. Barrett’s panic was becoming more evident as his taut, shiny ball maxed out with half of the second box of donuts crammed inside.  “Okay, Soldier, I’ll spare your gut from certain explosion,” Peter announced. Barrett responded with an wall-shaking belch. Squashed a little under the weight of the overfed stud, Peter wriggled his way out and stood at the side of the bed admiring the gigantic beach ball. The bottom of his enormous gut was as taut as the top, and the roundness bumped against his spread meaty thighs.

Peter slowly made his way on to the bed, throwing his leg over Barrett’s wide body and bouncing his fat butt briefly on the tall mountain of belly. Realizing that he was about to push several donuts right out of Barrett’s mouth, Peter quickly slid down off of the ball gut and landed on his hard-again cock. Peter was reminded of how full his own belly was as it met fatly against the bottom third of Barrett’s gutsphere. Peter regained his strength, grabbed a hold of each of Barrett’s meaty pecs and humped his cock against the giant hard belly. Getting ready to shoot his load, Peter grabbed another donut, plugged Barrett’s furry feedhole with it, and ate up the sight of Barrett’s hungry expression as he spurted cum all over Barrett’s lower bellysphere.

“Feels good to get caught up on lost time, huh?”

#kyaadaoriginal weightgainfiction DadBod feeder feedee grommr feabie

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scifigeneration · 6 years ago

Text

Protecting human heritage on the moon: Don't let 'one small step' become one giant mistake

by Michelle Hanlon

Neil Armstrong took this photograph of Buzz Aldrin during the Apollo 11 extravehicular activity on the moon. NASA

Why did the hominin cross the plain? We may never know. But anthropologists are pretty sure that a smattering of bare footprints preserved in volcanic ash in Laetoli, Tanzania bear witness to an evolutionary milestone. These small steps, taken roughly 3.5 million years ago, mark an early successful attempt by our common human ancestor to stand upright and stride on two feet, instead of four.

Nearly 50 years ago, Neil Armstrong also took a few small steps. On the moon. His bootprints, along with those of fellow astronaut Buzz Aldrin, are preserved in the lunar soil, called regolith, on what Aldrin described as the “magnificent desolation” of the moon’s surface. These prints, too, bear witness to an evolutionary milestone, as well as humankind’s greatest technological achievement. What’s more, they memorialize the work of the many individuals who worked to unlock the secrets of space and send humans there. And those small steps pay homage to the daring men and women who have dedicated – and those who lost – their lives to space exploration.

The evidence left by our bipedal ancestors are recognized by the international community and protected as human heritage. But the evidence of humanity’s first off-world exploits on the moon are not. These events, separated by 3.5 million years, demonstrate the same uniquely human desire to achieve, explore and triumph. They are a manifestation of our common human history. And they should be treated with equal respect and deference.

I’m a professor of aviation and space law and an associate director of the Air and Space Law Program at the University of Mississippi School of Law. My work focuses on the development of laws and guidelines that will assist and promote the successful and sustainable use of space and our transition into a multi-planet species. During the course of my research, I was shocked to discover that the bootprints left on the moon, and all they memorialize and represent, are not recognized as human heritage and may be accidentally or intentionally damaged or defaced without penalty.

One of Buzz Aldrin’s first bootprints from his Apollo 11 moonwalk on July 20, 1969. NASA

Heritage gets no respect

On Earth, we see evidence of this type of insensitivity all the time. The Islamic State has destroyed countless cultural artifacts, but it’s not just terrorists. People steal pieces of the Pyramids in Gaza and sell them to willing tourists. Tourists themselves see no harm in grabbing cobblestones that mark roads built by ancient Romans or snapping the thumbs off terra cotta warriors crafted centuries ago to honor a Chinese emperor.

And, just last year, Sotheby’s auctioned off a bag – the first bag that Neil Armstrong used to collect the first moon rocks and dust ever returned to Earth. The sale was entirely legal. This “first bag” ended up in the hands of a private individual after the U.S. government erroneously allowed it to be included in a public auction. Rather than return the bag to NASA, its new owner sold it to the highest bidder for US$1.8 million. That’s a hefty price tag and a terrible message. Imagine how much a private collector would pay for remnants of the first flag planted on the moon? Or even just some dust from Mare Tranquilitatis?

The fact is if people don’t think sites are important, there is no way to guarantee their safety – or the security of the artifacts they host. Had the first bag been recognized as an artifact, its trade would have been illegal.

The taller Buddha of Bamiyan before (left) and after (right) destruction. UNESCO/A Lezine, CC BY-SA

Introducing ‘For All Moonkind’

That’s why I co-founded the nonprofit For All Moonkind, the only organization in the world committed to making sure these sites are protected. Our mission is to ensure the Apollo 11 landing and similar sites in outer space are recognized for their outstanding value to humanity and protected, like those small steps in Laetoli, for posterity by the international community as part of our common human heritage.

Our group of nearly 100 volunteers – space lawyers, archaeologists, scientists, engineers, educators and communicators from five continents – is working together to build the framework that will assure a sustainable balance between protection and development in space.

Here on Earth, the international community identifies important sites by placing them on the World Heritage List, created by a convention signed by 193 nations. In this way, the international community has agreed to protect things like the cave paintings in Lascaux, France and Stonehenge, a ring of standing stones in Wiltshire, England.

There are no equivalent laws or internationally recognized regulations or even principles that protect the Apollo 11 landing site, known as Tranquility Base, or any other sites on the moon or in space. There is no law against running over the first bootprints imprinted on the moon. Or erasing them. Or carving them out of the moon’s regolith and selling them to the highest bidder.

Between 1957 and 1975, the international community did dedicate a tremendous amount of time and effort to negotiating a set of treaties and conventions that would, it was hoped, prevent the militarization of space and ensure freedom of access and exploration for all nations. At the time, cultural heritage in outer space did not exist and was not a concern. As such, it is not surprising that the Outer Space Treaty, which entered into force in 1967, doesn’t address the protection of human heritage. Today, this omission is perilous.

Because, sadly, humans are capable of reprehensible acts.

Back to the moon

Currently there are a comparative trickle of companies and nations with their sights on returning to the moon. China landed a rover on the far side in January. An Israeli company hopes to reach the moon in March. At least three more private companies have plans to send rovers in 2020. The U.S., Russia and China are all planning human missions to the moon. The European Space Agency has its sights on an entire Moon Village.

But as history shows, this trickle of explorers could soon become a rush. As we straddle the threshold of true space-faring capability, we have an extraordinary opportunity. We have time to protect our common heritage, humanity’s first steps, on the moon before it is vandalized or destroyed.

If our hominin ancestor had a name, it is lost to history. Conversely, English novelist J.G. Ballard suggested that Neil Armstrong may well be the only human being of our time remembered 50,000 years from now.

If we do this right, 3.5 million years from now, not only will his name be remembered, his bootprint will remain preserved and the story of how Tranquility Base became the cradle of our space-faring future will be remembered forever, along with the lessons of tumultuous history that got us to the moon. These lessons will help us come together as a human community and ultimately advance forward as a species.

To allow anything else to happen would be a giant mistake.

About The Author:

Michelle Hanlon is a Professor of Air and Space Law at the University of Mississippi.

This article is republished from our content partners at The Conversation under a Creative Commons license.

#space #science #moon landing #NASA #apollo mission

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lostinfic · 6 years ago

Note

Lost, a 'deep' prompt if you have the time or interest: "Trick" for Will & Holly, lost love/love lasting beyond death, 'communication' from the other side. Thanks!

Dear Nonny, might not be exactly what you had in mind, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Game Night. 2/2

[Part 1] [Ao3]

Pairing: Will Burton (The Escape Artist) x Holly Shawcross (True Love)

Rating: Teen

Word count: 2.4k

Summary: Fluff and some angst. Will and Holly are part of a group of friends who meet every week to play board games. Although there is more than friendship growing between them, their pasts prevent them from acting on their feelings. Until one week, they play with a Ouija board.

A/N: I also wrote a fem!Will x Holly : Sweater Weather. Some details might escape you if you haven’t seen the shows, but I think you can still enjoy the story.

○ Trick or treat prompts // All my autumn fics

CW: past death/grief (Will’s wife)

🍂

The sky was a pink shade of gray, a reminder that the sun still existed despite the clouds. Sheets of rain slashed through beams of street light. Holly cracked opened a window to let the soothing sound and scent of rain permeate the air of her small flat. She wished for lightening and thunder.

This week, game night was at her home. Sometimes, work permitting, Will arrived early, under the pretense of helping her set up. “Setting up” usually involved folding out a card table at one end of her kitchen table for extra seating, and then just chatting until the others arrived. But she doubted he would come early tonight.

All week she’d waited for a text from Will, an apology or a simple “hello”, even a “sorry wrong person” would have soothed her worries. Holly herself had started typing more than one text she never sent. She shouldn’t have rushed out of his car, she should’ve stayed and pretended it was nothing but a joke. She didn’t want to lose him as a friend even if she longed for more.

She’d channeled her nervousness about game night into crafts: a garland of paper ghosts fashioned from the pages of an old book, a centerpiece of squashes and mini-pumpkins she had no intention of ever eating and charcoal sketches of creepy Victorian kids. She had to talk herself out of adopting a black cat; she could barely take care of herself let alone a pet.

She sat at her kitchen table and arranged the pretzel sticks, candy corn and Reese’s pieces into a pattern. She was so absorbed by her task, she jumped when someone knocked at the door. It was still early for the game, so it had to be Will. She sprung from her chair.

“Come in.”

Sabrina and Jerome came in. “Hope you don’t mind we’re a tad early, we dropped off the kids at a friend and it was closer than we thought.”

“Isn’t Will already here?” Jerome asked.

“I am.” Will peeked inside from around the door.

Jerome and Sabrina shuffled over to let him in without stepping off the door mat.

Holly waved at him shyly, he didn’t avoid her gaze which she supposed was a good sign. He even took his usual place next to her. She was dying to ask if he was pretending nothing had happened or had changed his mind about her. But she couldn’t ask in front of their friends, and her home was too small to find a private corner. Nevertheless, her mood increased tenfold, and by the time all seven of her friends had arrived, she was dancing on her chair to “Monster Mash”.

They alternated between playing Dungeons & Dragons one week and regular board games the other, either old ones they loved or new acquisitions. Today being Halloween, someone suggested they played with a Ouija board.

Some groaned, among them Patrick who preferred games like Risk and Settlers of Catan. “It’s not a game!” he argued.

“Back in the days, it was marketed as family entertainment,” Sabrina replied. “Parker Brothers distributed it.”

“C’mon just for a bit, just for laughs,” someone else enthused.

“Wait, let me set the mood,” Holly said.

She selected a Halloween playlist on her mobile. She brought her collection of candles to the table and closed the lights. The scent of burnt match and melted wax rose with the smoke.

There was a thrill in the air, they all exchanged glances and giggles. Everyone, except Will, wanted to put their fingers on the planchette. They tugged it this way and that, spelling swear words and booing like ghosts.

“Let’s do this seriously,” Jasna said. “Be silent.”

It took a moment, but everyone calmed down. Jasna cleared her throat and breathed in deeply. Holly snickered, and Jasna’s mouth twitched from repressed laughter.

“Alright.” She placed the planchette so the hole in it was positioned above the G. “I am trying to contact the spirit world.”

She had a deep voice for a woman and a Bosnian accent that lended a hint of mystery to her words.

First they moved the planchette across the board, anti-clockwise, to warm it up, then Jasna asked: “Are there any spirit in the room?”

The planchette moved to “yes”.

Holly’s hair stood on end. She bit the thumb nail of her free hand.

“How many spirits are in the room?”

Jasna closed her eyes. The planchette dragged down the board to the numbers.

One.

Two.

Everyone laughed, notes shrill with unease. It kept going. Three.

Four.

Five.

Sabrina gulped. Jerome looked over his shoulder.

Holly scooted closer to Will. She felt a prickled on the back of her neck. A candle flame flared up, and almost burnt her sleeve. “Fuck,” she whispered.

“What are your names?”

This time the planchette jerked to the letter “K”, zigzagged across the board as if wrestled over, then touched the “A”. Will dropped his hands. Then it pointed the “T”. When it moved towards the “E”, Will stood up, startling them all. He clenched his jaw and glared around the table, breathing fast through his nose. Then he just grabbed his coat and stormed out.

“Which one of you arsehole did that?” Holly asked.

They all exchanged suspicious looks but none dared admit culpability.

Will drove around aimlessly, swearing under his breath. His hands shook so he gripped the wheel tighter. His knuckles turned white.

How could his friends do that to him? With one joke they’d revived the ache in his chest, like taking a scalpel to a stitched wound.

Heavy rain blurred the traffic lights and road signs. He felt dizzy. He shouldn’t drive in this state. But he didn’t know where to go. He didn’t want to go home, Jamie was at a slumber party, all by himself he would just churn these dark thoughts in his head. Why was he so freaked out? Ghosts weren’t real.

Will slammed the breaks. His whole body jerked forward. The wheel stamped in his chest with a long honk. He’d nearly hit a pedestrian.

He parked the car on the side of the road. His heartbeat drummed in his ears. He rested his forehead on the wheel and took deep breaths.

It was only a joke. They didn’t not it would hurt so much. None of them had known Kate. None of them had seen the shell of a man he was after her death. None of them knew he’d murdered for her… In fact, he’d never told any of them about Kate at all. His blood ran cold. No, he’d told Holly, but he didn’t believe her capable of pulling such a cruel prank.

In Holly’s flat, candles were still burning but everyone had gone. She’d texted Will and rearranged the candies’ pattern while waiting for his reply.

Instead of texting her back, he showed up on her doorstep. His hair dripped with rain. He smelled of cigarette, so she knew the whole event had really unnerved him.

Without a word, he pulled out a chair and slouched on it.

“I’ll make you a cuppa,” she said softly.

She popped the kettle on and browsed her tea collection. She bought far more than she drank, she couldn’t resist a whimsical name– “Buddha’s blend” or “seaberry spa”. But tonight called for traditional English tea. She debated which cup to pick, yellow to cheer him up or green for hope. She chose one that said “you are deer to me” underlined by a set of antlers. He smiled at the pun, though very briefly.

Holly twirled the tea bag in her mug, watching the dark swirls it left in its wake. She did it with her left hand so the right one could rest on the table, close to Will’s.

The thunder she’d wished for began. Ominous rumbles, like a giant cracking his knuckles.

In the other room, the Halloween playlist ended, and an old jazz one started. Notes of saxophone and a lamenting blues voice travelled through the wall like something from the past.

“Did you tell them about my wife?” he asked.

“Of course not, you told me that in confidence. I think some reality show starlet called Kate died last week, that’s probably what that was about.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, nodding unconvincingly.

A lightning strike illuminated his face. He was looking at the Ouija board still on the table. Whoever had brought it over, hadn’t wanted it back.

“Do you want to try again?” she asked him.

He hesitated. “Do you believe in spirits, Holly?”

“I’m open to the idea.”

It was too romantic a notion for her to discard entirely, the possibility of a connexion beyond death.

Will picked up the game, and they settled in the living room. They sat on the shaggy carpet, their backs against the couch and placed the board on the coffee table.

Will shook his hands, clenched and unclenched his fists. She wanted to pat his shoulder or rub his back, something to comfort and reassure him, but she couldn’t help thinking that if Kate’s ghost was still around, she wouldn’t like Holly touching her husband.

They placed their fingertips lightly upon the planchette. There were no giggles or joking around like earlier. Her stomach was heavy, her mouth dry.

“Kate, are you still here?” he asked.

Thunder answered him.

They waited. One minute. Two minutes.

“Kate?” he asked again with a tremor in his voice.

The planchette didn’t move.

Will sighed and leaned back against the couch.

“Are you disappointed?” she asked him.

“I don’t know… I’m relieved, I think.”

“Relieved?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “The reason I freaked out so much is that I’ve been thinking about Kate a lot lately. More than usual, I mean.”

“Oh.”

“I wonder what she would think. I wonder– I’m afraid it would make her sad that there’s someone else in my life.”

“You met someone?”

His meaning didn’t dawn on her until she met his gaze, his eyebrows slightly arched, his front teeth in his bottom lip.

“Me?”

“Aye. You’ve become important to me. Holly.”

Holly hid her blushing face against the couch cushion, peering sideways. She touched the tips of his fingers, and he slouched down so his face was closer to hers.

“You’re important to me too. I like you a lot.”

He smiled, a wide grin, thin lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes. The kind of smile that can only come from the happiness and heady relief to know one’s feelings are returned. A smile that mirrored her own.

She felt like her heart was glowing. She wanted to kiss him, right then and there, but he had more to say about his late wife.

He entwined their fingers and gathered his thoughts.

“I don’t want someone to replace Kate,” he said. “She used to say my brain was full of holes, but sometimes it feels like it’s my heart that’s full of holes.”

Holly touched his chest, and he placed his hand over hers.

“She’s still in there, but I need someone who is really here. Someone whose voice I can hear. Someone I can touch.”

Holly might have wondered if she could stand sharing his heart with a ghost, but he grazed her cheek with the back of his fingers, lightly, hesitantly, and she melted on the spot. She leaned into his touch, and he cupped her face firmly this time. His long fingers cradled her jaw, his thumb stroke her cheekbone, his gaze dropped to her lips.

“Oh, Will…”

A window flew open, wind toppled a pencil holder and scattered a stack of art prints across the floor.

Will jerked his head back, and Holly yelped. Her hand flew to her chest where he heart raced.

He closed the window while she collected the fallen items with shaky hands. She turned on all the lights in the room.

“That scared me half to death,” Holly said.

“Maybe it was Kate’s ghost.”

“Don’t even joke about this,” she said good-naturedly. She elbowed him lightly in the ribs.

They sat on her overstuffed sofa, it dipped in the middle, bringing them closer.

“Holly, are you all right with this?”

She rubbed her thumb in her palm. In a way, a widower was an improvement on a married man, and even on a divorcee.

“I have my own baggage,” she said carefully. “So I don’t know how it will go. But I feel so close to you, you know?”

“I know.”

“If you like, how come you reacted that way last week, when I took off my shirt?”

“You caught me by surprise!” His voice hitched an octave.

“Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking.” She bit her bottom lip.

“I have to say, I admire your boldness.”

“Yeah? Would you like a do-over?”

“You mean…?

“I’ll take off my jumper again, and you make sure you have a better reaction.”

“Okay.”

“D’you need a minute to think about it?”

“Aye.”

She worked hard to hold back a grin when his brow furrowed in concentration. He signaled with a nod that she could go ahead. Holly rose to her knees and grabbed the hem of her sweater, displaying more confidence than she felt.

“Sod it,” Will mumbled before lunging for a kiss before she’d pulled it off completely.

Holly laughed against his mouth, but he pressed on. There was an anxiety to it, as if he might lose his nerve any second. His back muscles were rigid under her fingers. She moved her lips slowly as she rubbed up and down his spine.

The moment he truly yielded to his feelings, his weight pressed against her, and they fell back on the couch, mouths still locked.

His lips were eager, his hands roamed her stomach. He kissed down her neck as her legs cradled his narrow hips.

He broke the kiss to look at her. His eyes were bright, his hair a dishevelled.

“Much better reaction,” she said with a laugh.

He pecked her lips, then rested his head on her chest. She stroke his hair as he hugged her tight.

He stayed all night.

They marathoned classic black and white horror movies. Bela Lugosi grunted and Vincent Price laughed maniacally, as Will and Holly ate all the candies. They kissed too many times to keep up with the plots, and talked about everything long past midnight, never breaking physical contact. A happy tangle of limbs. They had so much to discover about the other now that they weren’t trying to hide their feelings.

They fell asleep in the wee hours, and Will’s phone alarm woke him up not much later.

“Don’t go,” Holly mumbled, clinging to his warm body.

He allowed himself two more snoozes before separating from her.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said, and kissed her head.

Despite the lack of sleep, he felt renewed. His patched-up heart beat more freely.

On his phone, he had several texts and voicemails from his concerned friends. He couldn’t hold a grudge for long given their prank had lead to finally kissing Holly.

On the way to his car, he whistled an old jazz song. But as he put his hands in his pockets, he found a green apple he didn’t remember putting there.

Fin

(More Will x Holly?)

#Teninch fic #Will x Holly #The Escape Artist #autumn prompts #ghosts - freeform #angst and fluff #friends to lovers #lostinfic writes stuff #all my love to the 5 people who like this ship #I know you and I appreciate you #Still taking prompts FYI #game night fic

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foolgobi65 · 7 years ago

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What’s the deal with padmavati?

this is going to be a long long post im so sorry in advance.... to start off with, im a diaspora kid raised in a dominant caste hindu family, and i just finished watching this movie in hindi which is not a language i understand well so if i didnt catch some things im so sorry and please feel free to add more.

im basically going to separate the movie from the news event, and go further into why its both a bad movie and a bigoted one. the rest of this is under the cut

ok! padmavati/padmaavat (they had to change the name) as a movie and as a general News Item is .... a fucking disaster.

in terms of the news, the karni sena which is a hindu nationalist (terrorist) group decided that this movie was an affront to their ancestors and dishonored their “queen” padmavati. Padmavati is the character in a Sufi poem called the Padmavat, and thus did not actually exist. There was talk of some dream sequence where she got with Khilji, the antagonist but most people are pretty sure it doesnt exist. The Karni Sena and their ilk has turned to rioting since the Indian Supreme Court ruled that the movie should be allowed to play, and their latest act of Rajput Valor has been attacking schoolchildren to show India the true glory of their caste. Before the movie came out there was a bounty on Deepika Padukone’s nose, her head, the director Bhansali’s head, and threats by Rajput women to commit jauhar (burn themselves alive).

All of this, notably, without a great deal of interference and sometimes the tacit encouragement of the BJP government in power both within the provinces that are affected as well nationally.

This mess meant that the movie released about 2 months after it was supposed to, and created this idea that to watch it was to support free speech.

padmavaavat as a MOVIE is also a giant fucking mess.

it’s got a ridiculously regressive worldview, and the movie so far is casteist, sexist, islamophobic and homophobic. it is also a poorly written, plotted, and edited movie.

casteist: it glorifies the dominant rajput caste, does not include anyone from outside that caste at all, will not fucking shut up about rajput valor when its clear in the present that rajput valor and values has led to a lot of shitty things. within the movie the rajputs basically constantly lose yet are still somehow portrayed as winners. their biggest victory comes from padmavati, who is from Singhal (sri lanka) and uses her intelligence instead of just fronting about her “rajput values.” Also historically the rajputs didnt become winners until they surrendered to the mughals and became commanders of the mughal army. they’re huge losers who are trying to rewrite history because theyre a pathetic martial caste known for hundreds of their women burning themselves alive when the men lose a batttle.

sexist: the whole concept of jauhar is based on the idea that a woman’s chastity is more important than their life. 11 year old girls, pregnant women, it doesnt matter. A rajput woman cannot be allowed to live if there is even a glimmer of doubt that she may be touched by a man. Within this, she doesn’t even have the dignity to choose to die, and must ask permission beforehand from her husband. Are there women who might have wanted to live? Who knows? They’re all dead now, coerced into burning themselves alive. I’d also like to add that the movie never addresses the fate of the /non/ rajput women, which highlights a huge issue of caste and how it affects gender dynamics of hindu women. Dominant caste women are considered pure, and so they must die to preserve this purity. Other women are ignored -- if they are taken as slaves, it doesnt matter because the real victory is that khilji couldnt take the Rajput women.

Islamophobic: the entire movie exists to highlight the differences between the “perverse” “dark” “dank” “dirty” “insane” “cheating” “evil” Muslim, and the “clean” “light” “honorable” “pure” Hindu. The colors, the scenery, the food, and of course the characters themselves, all serve this insidious idea that Muslims are the savage invader, in India to plunder everything beautiful about it, especially its dominant caste women. By all nominal accounts, Khilji was a conqueror, and he acted like many conquerors did -- including, I might add, many “hindu” conquerors. If he was crueler than other conquerors, that is of course because of who he was as a person and not because of his religion. Khilji’s wife played by Aditi Rao hydari might have been the only actually good muslim character and even then she’s portrayed as the islamophobic victim muslim wife, trapped in a horrific marriage with a savage. There’s more to be said but like ... the foundation of this movie is the idea of a primordial culture clash which of course doesnt actually exist

homophobic: malik kafur is khilji’s eunuch slave general and he’s portrayed as being in love with khilji. its one sided, and theres one homophobic comment by the rajputs at some point. khilji maybe could be seen as reciprocating a little but tbh its all just to further this idea that khilji and co are savage, foreign (muslim) perversions. a few scenes directly contrast malik and khilji v padmavati and ratan and clearly, the hindu heterosexual couple is meant to be the good, pure, holy one. i will say malik/khilji was the only pair i was really rooting for, and this was an almost 3 hour movie meant to center on padmavati/ratan.

bhansali also lowkey exotified sri lanka and made it seem as like .. some foreign place with lots of buddha statues and like ... shes this strange jungle princess??? i appreciate the mention of buddhism in sri lanka/south india but i dont think she was shown to be buddhist so .... yikes. also it was 7 minutes but it was weird. he cant do anything right.

special shoutout to the absolutely horrific jauhar scene for valorizing and glorifying hundreds of dominant caste women killing themselves because their king is too incompetent to win in single combat. the way khilji wins is btw a pathetic attempt by bhansali to make his victory actually ratan’s victory even tho ratan is a huge loser who cheats on his first wife, drones on about his honor to the point where i want to kill him myself, has the military sense of a guppy fish, and is visibly proud that the love of his life wants to burn herself alive for him.

also SPECIAL shoutout to the end positioning of the battle between the rajputs and khilji as a “dharma yudh” or a war of righteousness. it is compared to rama v ravana, and the kurkshetra war and khilji v rajput is said to be the third war of righteousness, akin to these religious struggles. khilji is directly compared to ravana. its ridiculous. its dangerous. its horrific. of course the victory of truth in this instance is that the women khilji covets (only the dominant caste ones ofc) are burned to death. to position khilji (whose army carries flags that look EXactly like the pakistani flag) as the essence of pure evil, and the fight against him a righteous war of religion in this especially islamophobic time is disgusting. the writers should be ashamed.

As a movie, the dialogues which i admit i didnt fully understand are apparently overwrought, sappy and ridiculous.

the plot was too much, there were a bunch of plot points that could have been cut to make a better movie.

i was never convinced of the central love pair because there really wasnt anything about them that made me feel the other was worth being their one and only love. the falling in love process was rushed to the point that i think it should have been cut out altogether and the movie should have started with padmavati established as his queen.

the treatment of ratan’s first wife was horrific -- shes basically sidelined and is jealous a few times and then kills herself along with everyone in the fire. just ... bad writing all around.

the editing overall was bad. the editing of ghoomar to make the karni sena happy was atrocious.

i hated ratan, i liked padmavati for like 30 minutes maybe when she’s in charge of the kingdom and is smart, i liked khilji despite the ways he was villanized, i liked aditi rao hydari as khilji’s wife, i liked malik kafur. the visuals were fine but the battles looked weird.

overall its a shitty bigoted movie that people are watching because the movie itself is like ... soft bigotry and portrays a bigoted worldview but the karni sena hindu rajput terrorists are stupid and decided to throw a fit and stone schoolchildren. it became some free speech victory to go watch a movie that espouses the same worldview as the ones trying to shut it down bc 2018 sucks.

sorry for the long rambly reply, if you have any more questions feel free to ask! if anyone has more to add please do -- like i said theres stuff that i might not have caught given my privileged worldview

#padmaavat #padmavati #bollywood #crypticlance

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303magazine · 6 years ago

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Intimate dining is not entirely new to Denver. Chefs counters and micro-restaurants (like Cart-Driver and Work & Class) have pushed Mile High patrons to get cozy. But Beckon, the sister restaurant to Call opening this week on RiNo’s Larimer Street, is not only exceptionally tiny — it only seats 17 people — it’s also requiring a lot of trust from its diners.

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Everything is done a little bit different inside this 900-square-foot former home. Instead of two-tops, there’s only one large rectangular chef’s counter. Here, guests are seated along its three sides in the shape of a giant staple, forcing all eyes to be riveted towards the middle of the room. Within the center space, chefs dance between one another while plating, cooking and preparing nearly all of the food — only a small dish pit is left out of sight. Waiters hug the periphery, only interjecting to pour a glass of wine, fold a napkin or answer a question. The whole coordinated effort feels less like restaurant dining and more like a formal dinner party meets performance art. It makes sense that reservations are called “tickets,” with a pre-determined cost ($95 for the eight-course meal, with an additional $65 for a wine or beer/cider pairing). Additionally, the structure of the nightly service feels very theater-influenced as it only has two seatings — one at 5:30 p.m. and the other at 8 p.m.

Beyond the synchronization of the evening, the drama of the meal naturally comes from the food — which is only revealed to you plate by plate. No menu, beyond that of an a la carte drink list, is available until the very end of the meal. (People with allergies and restrictions fear not — you can make any dietary needs known when you book your ticket).

“We’re doing something that’s not being done in Denver,” said co-owner Craig Lieberman, who is also the owner of the next-door cracker company 34 Degrees. “But we don’t want to take ourselves too seriously, we still want it to be approachable — we are in RiNo.”

The vibe of the neighborhood does seep in — mainly on the walls where you’ll find a mural by local artists Sandra Fettingis. The black paint laced with stencil work makes the room feel both charred and raw — giving it just enough edge to feel at home in the artsy neighborhood. This can’t be said of the food which, due to the Scandinavian influences of executive chef Duncan Holmes, is still unseen in RiNo.

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Holmes, an alum of the award-winning Frasca, brings his love for high-quality ingredients with precise execution to the small space. In partnership with director of experience, Allison Anderson (also from Frasca) and Mercantile’s former sommelier Zach Byers, the trio create an elegantly simple experience that is at times decadent and complex in its own delicate way. Take the bread, for instance. At first, it tastes like nothing more than a delicious house made whole wheat. But after a while, you’ll recognize something so oddly familiar about it that it’ll either hit you right away or drive you mad trying to place it. For those of us who grew up around aspen trees, you’re likely to be the former as the flour is made from the bark of the iconic Colorado tree and gives it a literal woodsy taste.

Nothing was quite as magically revealing as the bread — but there were plenty of dishes that were equally as satisfying. Both the creamy polenta with white truffles and hazelnuts and the langoustine in a foamy butter sauce made that category whereas the whole roasted Squab dressed in a chocolate lingonberry compote and the coffee roasted chicory had me analyzing every note. Even the dessert left us guessing (later we found out the floral notes came from a thinly sliced raw piece of a fruit called a Buddha’s Hand).

Like any good performance, the night was full of surprises — even though at times they were subtle. The attentive staff and expert-paired wine kept the pace of your typical high-end meal but the intimate atmosphere made it feel just that much more special. And much like its sister and next-door neighbor — Call — Beckon is bringing something new to the dining scene. But even if the restaurant is pushing some pre-conceived notions of what it means to eat out in Denver — their attention to detail and hospitality show that they are going to take your trust with great care.

Beckon is located at 2843 Larimer St. Denver and opens Wednesday, November 21. Tickets are available for purchase here.

All photography by Brittany Werges, unless otherwise noted.

Beckon Combines Dining with Performance Art at Tiny 17-Seat, Ticketed Restaurant Intimate dining is not entirely new to Denver. Chefs counters and micro-restaurants (like Cart-Driver and Work & Class) have pushed Mile High patrons to get cozy.

#303 Magazine #Allison Anderson #Beckon #Beckon Denver #Brittany Werges #Call Denver #Chefs Counter Denver #Duncan Holmes #kyle cooper photography #Private Dining Denver #Scandinavian Denver #Ticketed Dinner Denver #Zach Byers

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until-the-there-is-back-again · 6 years ago

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Home grown alligator, see you later: A year in South Korea

I still can’t believe that I’ve been here for a year. I can remember riding a bus in Cambodia next to a girl who was telling me about her experiences teaching in South Korea. When I told her I didn’t see myself ever staying in South Korea more than a year, she replied, “I thought so too, but suddenly I had been there for three years. Korea time is a real thing.” And yeah, she was right. I thought after a year I would be done with South Korea, thinking it would be lots of time to see and do many different things. But I am not even close. And even after having decided to extend my contract, I know I’m still not going to see and do it all.

Teaching is a hard, long process, and when the weekend rolls along, I am really only interested in sleeping and catching up on reading. But the sun has been shining more and the air has been (mostly) good, so I have been feeling a bit more adventurous.

The city where I’m living isn’t far from Seoul, so it’s easy to hop on the subway and explore for a few hours. The first place I ever visited in Seoul was Hongdae, which is considered the young, hip district. There is a university nearby, so many of the students who need to fulfill performance credits can be found singing, dancing and even doing magic shows on the streets. There is a long street full of shops, bars and restaurants. It is entertaining enough to just walk along and try to see everything. Hongdae Station is a big subway station too, so most often trips to Seoul involve a pass through Hongdae.

[Hongdae, Seoul, South Korea]

Another area of Seoul I like is Itaweon. Itaweon is the foreigner district of Seoul, mostly due to the presence of a US military base, and it elicits a mixed response from people; some like it, while others have a hatred of it that burns like the fires of hell (that is a direct quote from an Itaweon-hater). But for me, Itaweon is home to two of my favourite things: books and poutine. There are two great bookstores, Itaweon Foreign Bookstore and WhatTheBook. To the dismay of my future self who will have to again pack my life into two suitcases, I have added more books to my collection. And located between the two bookstores is a little poutine shop called Oh!Poutine. Going to one bookstore, then stopping for a bite to eat before heading to the other bookstore makes for a pretty enjoyable afternoon.

Another personal favourite is the Cheonggyecheon stream. This is a 10 km long artificial stream in downtown Seoul. During the celebrations for Buddha’s birthday in May, the stream was strung with glowing lanterns. Recently, in the weeks before an upcoming election, it was covered by posters of the various candidates. Every time I’ve seen the stream, its something new. People stroll along it or sit and soak their feet in the water. There is art work handing in an alcove under one of the bridges, and there is a small waterfall where the stream begins.

Seoul has something for everyone. And between the shopping, all the neat cafes, and different events and festivals, I don’t know if it would be possible to get tired of the city. Early in April, a group of us went to Yeuido to take in the cherry blossoms. In the Yeuido park, there is a long street lined with cherry trees that are 30 to 40 years old. The day wasn’t the best weather wise, but the flowers were gorgeous in a soft, gentle way. We wandered along the streets, watched a bit of the performances and just took in the day.

To me, that day was a real marker of the end of winter. Ever since, I have noticed the beautiful greens of the trees, the vibrant colours of the flowers. It didn’t seem gradual, like it always did at home. It was grey and then all at once, the country woke up.

One challenge in South Korea is the air quality. In recent years, the air pollution here has gotten worse. More and more people are donning face masks and there are apps that alert you to poor air quality. At the time of writing this, the air quality index here is 105 (which is unhealthy for sensitive groups) and the AQI in my hometown is 40 (well within the good range). I’ve never had to think about if the air I was breathing was clean or not and it took me a while to realize just how much the air can affect you. I’m actually just getting over a sinus infection that the doctor related to the yellow dust in the air. I’ve never been opposed to rain per se, but now I look forward to rainy days with an almost religious zeal, since it means the air the following day or two will be good.

Other than the air, there isn’t much to perturb me here in South Korea. Even the language barrier isn’t too much of an issue. I have been trying (and failing) to study the language. I can say hello, goodbye, thank you, yes and no. But most Korean’s don’t really expect foreigners to speak or understand Korean. Most people here have at least the basics of English (at least as much Korean as I have) and with pictures and gestures, it’s usually possible to express your meaning. In restaurants and markets, pointing and throwing up your fingers gets the job done. The subways, buses and taxis are straight forward (with the use of apps) and even then most of the transit signs have English on them. Even going to the doctor and the dentist has proven to be relatively easy. It definitely helps that my Korean coworkers are absolute gems who are willing to help me by writing out notes in Korean and translating messages or mail.

I’ve had some pretty neat experiences this past year. I went to the Olympics in February, walked around the Royal Palace, explored Seoul with a best friend, tried deep fried milk, drank coffee at a flower cafe, filled up on street food, watched a lantern parade in honour of Buddha’s birthday, drank rice wine (makgeolli) at an all-you-can-drink restaurant and gone to a Korean wedding. And the area where I’m living is considered a relatively new city, so it is growing as more and more businesses are opening. I think it would take me many years to just try all the cafes in this area. There are three movie theatres, two giant grocery stores, a spa, karaoke rooms, bars, a canal and a big park that surrounds a lake.

(Photo on the bottom left is my face as I almost dropped all of the fried milk onto the street. In hindsight, I should have just let it fall. Fried milk is... not good.)

Simply put, South Korea is proving to be a pretty charming place to spend almost two years of my life.

#seoul #south korea #travel #travel writing

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chaletnz · 7 years ago

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Feeling The Heat

We'd gone to bed without any alarm as Olga was sure she could wake us up early as she is a naturally early riser. I was woken at 10.30 to shouts of "Jesseeee wake up it's 10.30!" and rolled off the worst mattress in existence. The entire night I'd felt just about every spring in the thing and didn't sleep much in the end. We'd missed breakfast so we quickly showered and got ready and headed out to a cafe that we'd spotted yesterday, Happy Espresso. Unfortunately it must've been one of the priciest third wave coffee shops in Thailand as it cost us almost €5 for a cappuccino and an iced milk coffee. We opted to skip the expensive croissants and just enjoyed our coffees and the clean toilet facilities. From here we took the bus out to the Grand Palace, it cost us only 6.50 baht each for a ticket and we sat in the window seats enjoying the breeze and city views all the way. A creepy guy boarded about halfway through the journey and started standing ver close to Olga and staring at her so I gave him menacing glances and shooed him away from her. We jumped off and were immediately set upon by tuk tuk drivers all fighting for their western passengers on the footpath. We dodged them all and entered Wat Pho on foot for our cultural session for the day. We saw the giant reclining Buddha in all its glory within a decorative temple. We walked around the gardens for a short while but the heat was unbearable for me and I had to stay in the shade except for a few quick photos. We watched the cleaners atop a homemade ladder cleaning the ceilings and then we wandered out in search of food at the Old Siam Plaza. There were stalls upon stalls of options much like at Pier 21 except the portions were smaller and the prices were about double. I chose a chicken wrap to play it safe and Olga experimented with some mini fried eggs, rice in banana leaves, and sushi topped with crab, jellyfish and octopus. She liked it all much to her surprise and although we had to sit on the floor it was a very enjoyable lunch as we hadn't eaten all day! We took a few munchkin donutholes from Dunkin Donuts as ate them as we braved the heat again. Our walk led us back to the Grand Palace via a small park where we sat quietly until a family with children rushed over and stirred up all the pigeons by throwing bread into the lake for some monstrously big catfish. At the Grand Palace we chose not to go inside as it was already quite late in the day, the woman at the tourist information desk recommended that we take the boat from this pier down the river to the Asiatique district which boasted market stalls, upper class eateries and a ferris wheel all on the waterfront. We shopped around a little bit but it was a lot more expensive than the Terminal 21 mall, I bought a tshirt and Olga picked up some shoes and a handbag. We realised we needed to step on it to arrange our tickets to get to Ko Pha Ngan tomorrow so we checked online only to find that they'd sold out of all the sleeper trains running tomorrow. In a bit of a pickle, and after another crazy bus ride back, we took a number at our local train station and waited to ask the desk clerk if we could buy some tickets directly. They showed us that all trains tomorrow were indeed sold out so we approached the information desk to ask for help with a bus ticket. We were led through the back areas past a container of rice sitting on the dirty floor (that looked like they'd be serving it soon out the front) and outside to a tourism ticket office. The man inside spoke English very well and we both immediately felt uncomfortable about it. We spoke a little in Hebrew so he wouldn't understand our discomfort and then said we had to go to our hostel for cash anyway when he told us the fares would be more than double what we'd seen online. Afraid of getting scam tickets and a ruined trip to the islands we reluctantly booked our bus and ferry tickets online. To cheer us up we returned to the Terminal 21 mall for dinner - this time my choice of Hawker Chan - the first street food eatery to be awarded a Michelin star. We ate at a Michelin restaurant for less than €5 each! I took the signature soya sauce chicken and rice and Olga had the noodles and tofu in soya sauce with a Chinese flower tea to wash it down. Next we shopped for some essentials; bath products and snacks for our night bus ride, and had another browse of the shops where I bought myself a day bag that was just too cool to pass up. We ended our trip to the mall the same way as yesterday with a nice cool cup of Milo ice cream and a quick visit to the Japanese toilet where I was finally brave enough to try out the washing feature!

#Thailand #Bangkok

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orbemnews · 4 years ago

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Mardi Gras parades got canceled by Covid-19. So New Orleanians turned their houses into floats Like so many, the mom and insurance manager had known in her gut that the weekslong fête would take 2021 off. Revelers of all ages packed at least three deep along routes that wind for miles seemed the textbook antithesis of social distancing. “So, I kinda made a comment: ‘Well, that’s fine, I’m just going to decorate my house,'” said Boudreaux, who invited her neighbors to turn their homes, too, into stationary versions of the ornately designed floats that populate the four dozen or so parades that roll in the city each year. This way, she figured, partiers could stay 6 feet apart while visiting outdoors and enjoying the artistry of the annual countdown to Lent. The idea, like a splay of bead strands hurled skyward toward an endless carousing crowd, has spread. There’s a home with a sign that beckons, “Welcome to Wakanda.” Another features a Night Tripper theme in homage to funkman Dr. John. One house honors a health care worker alongside giant ivory beads. On a balcony, a cutout of the late chef Leah Chase stands, spoon in hand, at an enormous pot. Just off the St. Charles Avenue streetcar line, a giant model dinosaur in a top hat grazes. Elsewhere, a set-up pays tribute to Alex Trebek with a “Jeopardy!” board, playable using a posted QR code. Human-size Lego figures approximate a float rolling by parade-goers on a front porch. A wooden pelican the width of two men perches at another. All across town, papier-mache or cardboard and foil flowers of every hue, plus bunting of purple, green and gold and strands of beads the size of beach balls, adorn the homes where so many have been in retreat from the coronavirus since just after last Mardi Gras. That’s when 1.5 million people — including international visitors — converged on the city, almost certainly fueling viral spread that made the region an early hot spot. Indeed, the purple-and-white house icons that dot a map on the Krewe of Float Houses website cover the city’s entire main footprint like a sidewalk littered with doubloons, those collectible metallic coins tossed by riders from traditional floats. “In its essence, it’s not much different than when people drive around with the kids in the car and look at the Christmas decorations, holiday lights,” said Doug MacCash, who’s chronicled the house float movement for the local newspaper, The Times-Picayune | The New Orleans Advocate. “Except this year, in 2021, it has such a spirit of triumph, such a spirit of defiance. It’s like, ‘Sorry, ‘rona. We’re not just giving up.'” “Mardi Gras by no means is dead; it’s just different,” said City Councilman Jay Banks, who’s cast his own house — already painted yellow and black — with other trademark representations of the Zulu Social Aid & Pleasure Club, the city’s preeminent Black Carnival organization, over which he once reigned as king. “And what we’re forced to do this Mardi Gras, with Covid as the No. 1 consideration, … is how this whole house float thing got started,” he said. “And let me tell you, I am just giggly about it.” How to turn your house into a float Do-it-yourselfers — many already armed with hot-glue guns and glitter by the gallon for crafting annual Mardi Gras costumes — have embraced the home-design effort in earnest. Two private Facebook groups with more than 14,000 participants spew inquiries at all hours, most swiftly answered by a hive mind eager to collaborate after months of stay-at-home orders. “Any recommendations on securing this? It’s top heavy,” one poster asked, referring to a photo of a homemade Lysol can prop standing several feet tall. From another: “Has anyone had luck with using cardboard to make house float decorations? I already used some and painted and sealed with mod podge acrylic sealer but am wondering how it will hold up in the elements on a French Quarter balcony! Is there a better way of waterproofing, etc.?” The exchange is not unlike in the bleak months after Hurricane Katrina in 2005, when neighbors connected to trade recipes for bleach or baking soda concoctions to remove mold from items soiled by the flood. Others looking now to gild their homes have turned to a regional cottage industry built over decades for precisely this sort of venture. “Part of the consternation about canceling Carnival had to do with, well, there are people (for) who(m) Carnival is their livelihood — a lot of people: float builders, bead- and costume-makers,” MacCash said. “Some of the Carnival artists who find themselves out of work at what would have been a real scrambling sort of time, what they’ve done is they’ve found employment decorating houses.” In a normal year, René Pierre right about now would be finalizing the books on some 75 floats that his company, Crescent City Artists LLC, decorates using lightweight utility canvas, bright house paints, hard coating, wood and Styrofoam, he said. This year, Boudreaux’s house float vision, which Pierre caught on a local news report, proved to be his “ticket out” of a toned-down Carnival — and one that follows his and his young daughter’s recovery from Covid-19. “Oh, man, in about three weeks, we were booked all the way up until today,” Pierre said last week of his house-decorating customers. “My wife and I were trying to sleep one night, and we kept hearing notifications coming from the website. It was like, “Ping ping ping ping ping.’ It was like, ‘Oh, my God.’ It was like instant success. It was incredible.” The couple inked 53 house float contracts ranging from $1,500 to $3,000 apiece, a sum many riders in the city’s biggest parading groups typically would spend on bead strands and other “throws” to toss in a given year. “It has really pumped my business into full steam,” Pierre said, noting he hired his cousin, a recording artist, to help manage the crush. “We have made more money in six weeks … and talk about Mardi Gras spirit.” Of the commissions, Pierre’s favorites are a trio of painted pups fashioned after the homeowner’s own pack, a Buddha-themed display and one highlighting the Grateful Dead dancing bears. Boudreaux, known as “Admiral B” of the house float fleet, aptly did her house in a maritime motif. “I don’t know if I want to know how much I spent,” she said: “definitely more than I meant to, less than a lot of people.” How to lead (or join) a house float krewe Beyond her own decor, helming this nascent krewe (local vernacular for a festival group) has become a second full-time job for Boudreaux. There are exchanges with lawyers over decorating rules in historic districts and weekly logistics meetings with the mayor to game out how to handle homeowners who want to, say, hire a band. There are now 50 captains, 39 subkrewes, a communications team and an effort to gather and edit together dozens of dancers’ at-home videos into a performance masterpiece for the website. Yet another to-do list item got added shortly after the krewe named a New Orleans bounce star as its grand marshal, Boudreaux said. “Now Big Freedia’s house is a traffic jam. The house is so popular that even guerilla photograph-style, it still drew a crowd,” the one thing the Krewe of House Floats wants urgently to prevent. The krewe also has launched a campaign to donate $100,000 toward those facing unemployment and food and housing insecurity largely because of this year’s Carnival limits: artisans, service industry workers, musicians, Mardi Gras Indians and other culture-bearers. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, “this year plants the seed” for what’s already becoming an annual event, to endure long after the coronavirus is vanquished, MacCash said. (At last count, Pierre already had 28 house-decorating contracts set for 2022, and preregistration is open for next year’s Krewe of House Floats.) For now, Chris Volion is looking forward to safely welcoming on Fat Tuesday, February 16, revelers who pass by his New Orleans home, adorned with enormous black birds inspired by local crows and Edgar Allen Poe in his personal Krewe of Nevermore. Volion, an institutional research analyst, and his wife, Janet, are making some themed throws to hand out and plan to join neighbors for king cake-flavored Jell-O shots. “While it feels different, there’s still that excitement going on,” he said. This year, instead of swapping parade plans, “the conversation has shifted to: Have you been to such and such a block, or have you see this house? It’s so beautiful to see that the energy is still there.” For Banks, the city councilman, the house floats offer a glimmer in an especially bleak season. In his own circle, Covid-19 has taken 23 lives and killed 17 members of the Zulu organization, he said, not to mention relatives and friends of the club. It’s stripped New Orleans — and the world — of the chance to socialize in person and to observe customs in the typical way. But as is so often the case, he said, the city’s response in this dark moment offers a message far beyond its borders. “We’re showing the rest of you that there is light at the end of the tunnel,” Banks said. “As screwed-up as Covid is, we will not let it defeat us. … The lesson of New Orleans for the world is: You play the cards that you’re dealt.” Source link Orbem News #Canceled #Covid19 #floats #Gras #houses #Mardi #MardiGrasparadesgotcanceledbyCovid-19.So #NewOrleaniansturnedtheirhousesintofloats-CNN #Orleanians #parades #turned #us

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