#grassline

[rootedincuteness]

Rooto excitedly woke me up early this morning to remind me that today is National Chocolate Mint Day! He didn't care that the lighting wasn't the best for photos, or that it was gloomy and raining outside... all he wanted was minty chocolatey treats. I obliged him, especially because then I got to have some as well. So grab your favorite mint and chocolate combination snack today and celebrate! =)

[sylvies-chen]

I’ve been seeing that couples paint each other challenge where couples will spend a night in with a canvas and some cheap paints and give each other 30 minutes to try and paint each other, and now I can’t stop thinking about armandaniel doing that one night and armand’s is yeah it’s good okay like it’s not great because of the whole vampire art struggles but he was around renaissance painters for a long time so he does a pretty good job of getting daniel’s minute features and shading and whatnot but daniel’s is just. lord it’s so bad. it’s like the most primal kindergarten painting you’ve ever seen but dammit all the right ingredients are there!! he got the orange eyes and the curls and he very proudly points out that he gave armand a little ipad in his painting like his fake rashid era which he cracks himself up with but he looks over and armand is in tears because not only is he looking at the first painting of himself in over 400 years but he’s also looking at the most non sexual artistic interpretation of him he’s ever seen. like it’s just. him. he’s just existing. he’s there. on the canvas. with literally no background. not a meadow or even a grassline or anything. all this blank white liminal space around his (horrendously drawn) likeness as if nothing else is needed. no body contortions, eyes too one dimensional to even hold all his pain. daniel is just kind of chuckling and bashfully being all “ah fuck it’s pretty bad isn’t it I mean there’s a reason I stick to words, I drew your nose all lopsided on that one side and—” cut to armand literally welling up and whispering like “no. it’s beautiful.” daniel doesn’t get it. this is a liberation.

[gdadp3y2]

Finished Map

The map is finally finished. The work I've done since yesterday includes:

Adding and cleaning up trees (Removing trees that overlapped roads, trees and other stamps.)

Adding smaller features and details, like cliffs and coastlines, grasslines, terrain rocks and lakes.

Annotating the map and legend.

Naming the last few unnamed places.

I'm now ready to move onto locations and NPCs, which should be a more simple task thanks to the complete map.

[henryhumphreysblogs]

Red October

October is widely considered the best month for catching redfish in Charleston, SC. Just the other day I went to my dock in Wadmalaw, SC (just south of Charleston) and caught five redfish in under an hour. I was using frozen, store bought shrimp, under a bobber next to the marsh grassline. Typically, I prefer live bait (finger mullet, shrimp, mud minnows) but the frozen shrimp worked just fine. I am missing out on a bunch of fish this October because I am at school in Columbia, SC at the University of South Carolina. However, I am going to try to get back home for the last weekend of October to hopefully have a big day of fishing. One of the best places to go in Charleston for big redfish is the jetties which are located just outside of the harbor. I think we will be going there so I will post about how it goes. Here is a link if you want to learn more about the species.

[rebellum]

Lightly passive aggressive may-october war with my neighbour

he keeps going "oh I noticed your grass was getting long so I cut it :)" no matter that we have been asking him for years to not touch our grass. Babe no one wants a 0.5 inch grassline there's no nature in there. Where will the bees live.

[billionneuronscurious]

Interface.

[mccorklelife]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by McCorkle LiFE (@mccorklelife)

Teens beware this might offend you. #Lifeskills #lifelessons #mowingthelawn #grasslines #mccorklelife https://www.instagram.com/p/CQUX0u8BK96/?utm_medium=tumblr

[rootedincuteness]

Happy National Gumdrop Day!

With all the possibilities of candies for everyone to choose from nowadays, gumdrops can be a little bit forgotten and underappreciated... but not by the Roots & 'Shrooms Gang! They love gumdrops, and so does their human. These particular drops have all different and delicious flavors: licorice (purple), hot cinnamon (red), spicy cloves (orange), wintergreen (green), peppermint (white), and spearmint (yellow). So if you haven't taken the time to appreciate the mouth-watering flavors of gumdrops lately, maybe grab a few today and celebrate! =)

[paulinakowalkowska]

[eluvisen]

Heartfire - Chapter 1 

Fandom: Star Wars KOTOR

Characters: Juhani & Female Revan

Rating: M

Summary: There is no emotion—a lie that runs hot in Juhani's blood every day. There is emotion, and as long as her blood sings with it, there will be no peace. And yet when she leaves Dantooine, it is not as a fallen Jedi, but as part of a mission to save the galaxy. 

If only she knew how to deal with a crew of strangers.

—

It was only a matter of time, she knew, before someone would hunt her down to avenge Quatra’s death. Impatience wore at her the way a kath hound gnawed at an old bone, wishing to prove her strength, wishing to have it be over with. She could not help but wonder who might be assigned the task of killing her—Erelen was one of the enclave’s best duellists, and surely she had returned from her latest assignment. Jan Tai had faced the Sith in battle a dozen times, and could be recalled to Dantooine for the task. Perhaps Master Vrook himself would claim the grim responsibility of avenging Quatra. Or Belaya would— 

Belaya.

Juhani stopped. Closed her eyes.

Anyone but her.

She could go—go far away, where Belaya would never have to see her again. But as Juhani thought it, something inside her shrivelled. Even if she could leave Dantooine without attracting attention, there was nowhere else left for her.

But the grove—that was hers, and she worked to make it so. She ventured out to collect supplies: berries and roots foraged from the scrub, firewood from windfall left to dry in the sun, water from a clear-flowing stream. As she crouched on the bank, she saw a herd of iriaz upstream stretch their slender necks to drink. Their ears flicked and their eyes darted, alert for predators. A heartbeat later, the breeze changed direction, making the beads in Juhani’s hair clink. The herd fled with nostrils flared.

She hurried back to her grove. In truth, there was no need to hurry, yet the hot blood of her heart urged her on, on, even though there was still no enemy to vanquish. Merely a large herd of piket wandering over the hill, their long, graceful necks towering over the grassline. Overhead, a brith glided on silent wings, unconcerned by the affairs of land-walkers below. Juhani followed in its shadow, racing on swift feet—and at a flash of blue wading through hip-high grass, every instinct within her went still. 

Three Mandalorians stood in her grove, their armoured hides flashing like a taunt. 

Juhani called on the Force to cloak her in silence, and she slid unnoticed through the grass. For all the Mandalorians’ vaunted Force resistance, it was entirely too easy to stalk them through the clearing, silently drawing her lightsaber. She had, of course, heard the rumours of Mandalorian raiders terrorising the plains; while she hated to discover the truth of such rumours, she hated the Mandalorians more.

Her bellow rippled across the grasslands as she ignited her lightsaber. Everything was breathless, the world flashing by in a blur of gold, and she cleaved the first one’s head from his shoulders with a single glorious stroke. His head flew several metres to disappear into the grass, leaving the reek of burnt flesh and overheated alloys as his body fell with a thump.

Juhani grinned. For the first time in her life, she felt strong. Untouchable. Weightless with fury. 

No Mandalorian would ever take a thing from her again.

[Read on AO3]

[tessiete]

HELLO. *Yeets at you with no expectations or pressure* The grass reached for the sky in uncoordinated brambles. Flowers sprouted in the voids, gasping in relief in the sun. If one was to lay within it, they would be completely hidden. "I thought I might find you here, little one."

OH HI! No, I’ve not completely forgotten about prompts, and yes, I will post at midnight again. 

I fear no gods.

Anyway, thank you @kyber-erso for letting me make this about my boy, the Korks, and his dumb grandpa.

ILU Your gorgeous prose is such inspiration!!! (It was the only part @lieutenantmittens praised :sunglasses:)

Let’s have a title....um...

TO FORGET OURSELVES

The grass reached for the sky in uncoordinated brambles. Flowers sprouted in the voids, gasping in relief of the sun. If one were to lie within it, they would be completely hidden. Qui-Gon Jinn, however, was a large man, and though he crawled forward on his belly, and twisted to lie on his back, his knees still arced above the grassline like ancient monuments on a foreign plain.

"I thought I might find you here, little one.”

Beside him, couched like a barah fawn in a nest of broken reeds, and soft needle greens, Korkie Kryze grumbled out a paltry welcome. He snapped the twig in his hands then launched the pieces into the air above him. They arced high, then fell out of sight, disappearing into the long grass surrounding them. 

“No one knows this place,” the boy countered. “It’s secret.”

“Ah,” Qui-Gon said, suitably chastened. “Do I need a chain code, or civil chit to stay?”

Korkie frowned. The dry litter crinkled beneath his head as he shifted to consider Qui-Gon with all the seriousness of a Mand’alor.

“No,” he decided. “Just a password.”

“Oh,” Qui-Gon said, nodding sagely. “What is it?”

“I can’t tell you,” Korkie sighed. He kicked his feet out straight, flinging a handful of needles into the sky to emphasise the impossibility of Qui-Gon’s request. “You have to guess. Otherwise it’s not very secure, is it?”

Staves - small brown and green slivers of yesterday’s sunlight - fell like confetti around them, pricking the skin of his cheeks and brow. He closed his eyes, as beside him, Korkie flinched away to shield himself.

Once recovered, Qui-Gon considered his options.

“What password shall I guess?” he asked.

“If you can’t guess it, then you don’t know it, and you can’t stay,” Korkie decreed.

“A fair judgement,” Qui-Gon said. “But I am so very old that perhaps I just forgot it. Would you be kind to an ancient, aged fossil such as myself, and give me a clue?”

Korkie sighed again, loud enough that he nearly gave it voice, just to be certain that Qui-Gon was quite aware of the inconvenience of his request. Still, he relents, and he cupped his hand to Qui-Gon’s ear to breathe the secret between them.

“Oh, I see,” the Jedi said. He opened his mouth, and exhaled, the confidential code a near corporeal thing in the world before Korkie slapped his hand across his mouth, preventing the sound from escaping.

“You can’t say it out loud,” he cried. “You have to whisper it to me. Otherwise anyone might hear it.”

So Qui-Gon held his own hand to the boy’s much smaller ear, and murmured the password back.

“Okay,” Korkie said, satisfied. “You can stay.”

“Thank you,” the master replied. 

For a while, they lay in silence, staring up at the wide expanse of sky above them. The firmament above was a bright blue, but to those two votaries it appeared bruised, and dark as the heavy dome of Sundari arched high to dim the effulgent rays so that mortals, too, might bask in them.

Between them, there was perfect accord, both content to rest in the company of the other. There was a meditative peace in the sound of grass, and in the touch of the sun. But, at four, Korkie had little patience for the beauties of the world. Instead, he was much preoccupied by his own troubled thoughts, and unlike the heavy evergreen needles, they refused to settle softly beneath his head.

“It isn’t fair,” he houghed, another twig straining to reach the escape velocity of their orbit.

“That is true about many things,” Qui-Gon agreed. He reached his hand to the earth beside him, digging until the litter gave way to fine silt. It ran over his fingers like silk, weighed down by the oils of his skin, and left a dusting over his palms. “What, in particular, are you most troubled by, my boy?”

Korkie sighed again. His sighs contained whole systems within the bounds of their expulsions. He rolled to his side, facing Qui-Gon, curling his legs, and tucking his hands beneath his head. His entire aspect was bent toward the consideration of his most serious complaint.

“It isn’t fair that Bebu must leave again when you only just got here.”

Qui-Gon rolled to face him, equally considerate.

“Well, that’s not entirely true, is it?” he asked. “After all, your father and I have been here for nearly four months. Since before your mid-break. And we shall not be leaving until after Holyhod Day. That is quite a long time, don’t you think?”

“If I were in school the whole time,” Korkie agreed. “But break doesn’t count. And plus, I was in school for some of it, so I didn’t get to see you as much.”

“Your buir saw you every day, Kiorkicek,” Qui-Gon said, quite firmly. There would be no slighting of his own evergreen, and erstwhile padawan by anyone.

Korkie felt the justice of Qui-Gon’s correction, and thrust his lower lip forward in tremulous defiance.

“I said, not as much.”

“So you did,” agreed Qui-Gon, quick to acknowledge his own fault. “Forgive me. Go on.”

“I am only saying,” continued Korkie, “That it isn’t fair that Bebu is going so soon, and taking you with him.”

“As I am the elder, perhaps it is I who is taking him.”

“That doesn’t make it better,” Korkie said.

“No, I suppose not,” Qui-Gon said. It was his turn to sigh, as he rolled to his back once more, and stared up at the sky, watching it ripple behind the glossy dome, like light over water. “Do you know, when your father was little he used to lie in the grasses at the Temple, just like this, and look up at the vaulted claricrystalline of the Coruscant day?”

“Bebu did? Like me?”

“He did.”

Korkie screwed up his mouth, riddled with scepticism. “No, he didn’t,” he said. “This place is much too dirty for Bebu. He always tells Belli that I look ‘a wild creature unfit for civil tables’ when I come back like this.”

“And what does your mother say to that?”

“She says she loves wild and untamed things the best. And Bebu always laughs, and -” he added, leaning near to confess - “he never gets actually mad when I get mud on his trousers or his tunics. He just pretends.”

“Well, I tell you quite truly,” Qui-Gon murmured back. Korkie’s eyes were brightened with expectation. “When your father was not much older than you are now, he used to hide in the grass in the Room of a Thousand Fountains and look at the sky.”

“Really?”

“Really, really,” Qui-Gon vowed. “And I can recall several instances where he found himself covered in muck up to his ears!”

“You’re tricking me,” Korkie said.

“I am not,” Qui-Gon denied. “On one occasion, he dropped your mother into a great puddle of mud, and she was covered, too!”

“And then what?”

“What do you think,” Qui-Gon said, his eyes glinting with mirth. “He reached in to help her out, and then -”

“Then?”

“Then she pulled him in after her!”

At this, Korkie burst into a riot of laughter, so bright and clear as to startle a flock of dozing echo’lanaar from the trees. 

“Bebu was covered in mud!” he shouted, alive with joy. “And Belli, too! They must have looked so silly!”

Qui-Gon grinned. “They did,” he swore. “Quite silly. Much sillier than you look when you go home covered in needle greens or clay. And do you know what else?”

“What?” Korkie asked, falling silent and reverent again, caught in the grip of Qui-Gon’s voice.

“Every time we left the Temple he missed his home, and his friends, too. Just like you miss him when he’s gone.”

“It’s different,” Korkie said, feeling slightly betrayed by the way Qui-Gon has turned back to beckon his troubles join them in this den. “Because he left his friends. His friends didn’t leave him.”

“What is the difference, Kiorkicek, if everyone is still parted?”

And that is something he had not thought. 

Korkie frowned, trying to puzzle it out, but Qui-Gon spared him the struggle because the lesson to be learned was difficult enough for a master, fully grown, never mind a boy hardly older than a few revolutions of the earth.

“Don’t you think that your Bebu misses you?” he asked. “Don’t you think he’s sad when you’re not there?”

“Maybe,” Korkie conceded. “I don’t know.”

“I do,” Qui-Gon said. “And I can promise you that when you are here, and he is there, he always wishes you close.”

“I don’t think so,” Korkie said. “Because if that were true, then he wouldn’t leave at all. He’d always be here, and he wouldn’t care about there.”

“But he has many duties and responsibilities to do there,” Qui-Gon countered, his voice soft as the brambles below. “You know he saves lives. You know he frees people. You know he changes whole wide worlds, Kiorkicek. And he can’t do that from here.”

Korkie breathed deep, and exhaled. Needles scattered. The curving back of a tiny strill appeared in the dirt beneath his finger, gaining a wide jaw and a long tail as Qui-Gon watched, and Korkie thought about things.

“Are you sure he misses me?” he asked, at last.

“I am certain,” Qui-Gon said.

“How do you know?”

He looked at Qui-Gon then with such belief, such faith, and all at once, the Jedi saw another little boy who’d looked at him much the same for years, who also hid in brambles when upset, who also longed for the reassurance of desire, and he knew that this time, he would not hold back.

“I know,” he said, his voice solemn, and his gaze steady, “Because when your father is here, and I am there, I miss him just as much.”

[largemouthbassnation]

How Michael Iaconelli (Ike) Finds Bass in High Water Michael Iaconelli talks about why he likes to stick with the old grasslines when the water rises quickly on a lake when bass fishing in the spring. A lot of anglers ... source

[m4a-tv]

Jardin de la poterne des peupliers #7 #jardindelapoternedespeupliers #poternedespeupliers #poternesdespeupliers #ligneverte #couleeverte #couléeverte #paris13 #75013paris #75013mydistrict #75013paname #13emearrondissement #paris13street #streetarthunting #streetartspot #paname13 #paname13e #13emearrondissement #streetaetinparis #bridgestreetart #grassline #grasslines #75013 (à Jardin de la Poterne-des-Peupliers) https://www.instagram.com/p/CPkT9dJlX0a/?utm_medium=tumblr

[concretewheels]

328 / 365 . grass line . 24november2017 #sculpture #foundobjects #grassline #grass #curve #arc #concrete #ephemeralart #natureart #landart #bnw #blackandwhite #hillsboro #480perches #tualatindrainage #oregon #oneaday

[inspiredlegacies-mzfernandez]

It’s on guys!! SAVE THE DATE!!! First job as manager...Booked my first gig!! Come out and jam with us!! You won’t be sorry!!! APRIL 17th!! @ White Swan 4419 Navigation Blvd. Houston TX 77011 713-923-2837 #dreamjob #makeitworthit #bandmanager #grassline #myfirstshowbooked (at Houston, Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/CMlYQxJjU4d/?igshid=12z39xq2471ny

[rootedincuteness]

Rooto ventured out onto the Greenway today, and wow was everything green all around him! After all the rain we've had, the duckweed had exploded everywhere. Grasses, vines, and wildflowers abounded. Rooto, being green himself, felt right at home. I even lost track of him at one point and found him giggling from high up in a tree. Sometimes you just have to get back to your roots, you know? =)