#grasshopper loft

[camarocarfight]

Alastor's Bloody Valentine

Human Alastor x Reader late Valentine's Day special

Rated very mature with sexual content, murder, blood, and gore. Set in the 1930s with human characters. I suppose you could look at this as being a little Alastor back story.

Maybe there'll be a part deux?

It's kinda edited, but I got lazy and lost interest, and I just wanted to finish it. I hope all of you dear readers enjoy!

New Orleans, 1932

There was a chill in the air, carried in on a breeze that whistled through the old willow trees, and rustled their long, spindle-like branches. The trill of grasshoppers and crickets and the occasional screech of a night owl were customary of the bayou. Only interrupted by the nightly steam train, whose whistle echoed for miles until it faded like a whisper. There was no moon - only an ebony sky accompanied by its thousands of starry hosts. 

As serene as it all seemed, the bayou was one of the most dangerous places to be in 1932. Not just because of the alligators, snakes, and venomous spiders. The neighboring town was full of talk about the Louisiana serial killer, who lured their victims into the darkness of the bayou to slaughter them, leaving no trace or remains. People simply vanished, though it seemed to be mostly men of diverse age and status. Innocent and not so innocent. The most recent being a younger gentleman who had just gotten married. The papers did fail to mention that he'd nearly beaten his new wife within an inch of her life not long after the wedding, but news traveled fast. He was the thirteenth person to go missing.

With Valentine's Day came the fear of who the next victim would be. Mothers and wives kept tight leashes on their sons and husbands, and the police put in place a mandatory curfew. Temporary police sentinels were stationed on street corners, keeping watch over the streets day and night. Which subsequently made it more difficult to get to and from the only speakeasy in town. The police were happy - killing two birds with one stone. 

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, don't let this curfew get you down. Take your gal out on the town for some swing and make the most out of your Valentine's Day. Ladies, keep your gents close, and stay safe-”

“Y’see,” Mimzy turned the cathedral radio off with a huff and crossed her arms over her voluptuous chest. “This curfew is ruinin’ everything!” 

You rolled your eyes and leaned your elbow on the bar and rested your cheek in the palm of your hand. Mimzy had been on a tangent for the last week for having to close the speakeasy. Being that it was in the basement of an old sugar mill, it was too risky to keep it running with the police snooping around. In one night, with the help of Husker, all of the liquor was moved under the cover of darkness to the crawl space of Alastor's hunting cabin deep in the bayou. The liquor would at least be safe if the police felt it necessary to search the sugar mill. The only thing they'd find would be an empty stage and bar. 

With no speakeasy, the regular meet and greet for you and all of your friends was the cabin. It was a comfortable space, at least. Alastor had used the extra money he made from his radio show to install new, polished wood floors, a nice bar, and even a loft with a decent sized bed when he would stay for the first week of hunting. It also had a decent kitchen, which was Alastor's favorite feature. As for you, Alastor made sure to give you your own bit of space. In the corner of the main room was a stone fireplace with book shelves flanking either side. The shelves were filled to the brim with books of every genre. Hanging above the fireplace was Alastor’s prized Stag - previously occupied by Alastor’s portrait from when he was in the service. You never did tell him just how creepy you found the stuffed creature. Alastor loved the hunting sport, but you appreciated wildlife as just that; alive. 

Mimzy sauntered over from the radio and sat herself on a rickety barstool, her brows pinched. “How am I gonna make money? Who knows how long this whole thing will go on for. And where's Alastor? His show ended an hour ago. His ass better not be dead too.”

You sighed and stood from your barstool to round the bar. There was a bottle of, ironic enough, Red Stag that was already open. It wasn't your first choice, but prohibition made everyone less picky. You poured yourself a generous glass, only for Mimzy to swipe it from you, and gulp it down in one swig. Your eye twitched in irritation as you glared at the woman through your lashes. The relationship between the two of you was decent enough, but as of late, she'd been grating your nerves and testing your patience. Mimzy's flamboyant personality didn’t jive well with your own in an enclosed space. You were more reserved, shy, and softly spoken. Not to mention that the cabin had always been an intimate space for you and Alastor. It didn't seem so intimate now - being that it was now shared space with Mimzy and Husker. 

“Would you like another drink before I pour my own,” you asked, your voicing clipped. 

Your head was pounding now, with a migraine blooming behind your eyes. The little grin that slid over Mimzy's lips told you that she knew exactly what she was doing. 

“Actually, Doll, I would,” she flashed you a grin with her nose wrinkling as she did so. “You're such a good friend,” Mimzy cooed and thrust her empty glass in your face. 

Your grip on the bottle of Red Stag was white knuckle, and you opened your mouth to give her a piece of your mind, but the words caught in your throat when the cabin door opened. Both you and Mimzy looked over to see Husker coming through the door with Alastor trailing behind him. Your shoulders visibly deflated when your gaze met Alastor's.

Mimzy put her glass down on the bar and threw her arms up in glee. “Alastor! I'm so glad to see you!”

“And I you,” Alastor grinned. “Thanks for holding down the fort and watching over my darling for me.”

“I don't need a babysitter,” you grumbled and nodded your head at Husker when he gave you a sympathetic smile. “Hey, Husk.”

“Cher,” Husk greeted in that deep, baritone voice. 

Alastor laughed boisterously and leaned on the bar in front of you. Upon meeting his gaze, his chocolate brown pools started to melt away all of the tension in your body. It was so easy for you to get lost in his eyes. 

“I jest, my dear. Husker here is going to drive Mimzy home, and we are going to celebrate!”

Mimzy quirked a brow and made a sound akin to a high-pitched scoff. “I ain't ready to leave yet. I want to celebrate too! We could have a round of drinks!”

Husk had noticed that you and Alastor had yet to tear apart your gazes and were seeming lost in each other. Alastor flashed you a dazzling smile and leaned over the bar to press a chaste kiss to your lips. That was enough for your cheeks to flush and become a brilliant crimson. 

“C'mon,” Husk grabbed Mimzy's fur coat off the coat rack and all but threw it into the woman's face. “Before I drag your ass to the car.”

Mimzy put her coat on in a huff, then fussed over her hair, throwing insults at Husker as she did so. 

“Thank you,” you mouthed to Alastor and waved to Mimzy as she was all but pushed out the door by Husker. You could hear her nagging as she walked all the way to the door. “Poor Husker.”

“He'll live,” Alastor hummed and gave you a wink. “Mimzy, however,” he chuckled.

“That would be too good to be true,” you mumbled and grabbed the bottle of Red Stag to pour yourself that long awaited glass. “How was work?”

Alastor set about removing his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress. Your gaze was drawn to the newly exposed, tan flesh of his forearms. “Same as always, my dear. I'm sure you were listening?”

“Until Mimzy turned the radio off,” You walked into the main sitting area and sat in your favorite rocking chair. 

In your left hand was your glass of bourbon that you then took a sip of. From over the brim of the glass, you continued to study your partner as he made himself comfortable. Alastor's bowtie was now untied, and the top button of his dress shirt undone, exposing a delicious expanse of his neck. Being that it was Valentine's Day, you hoped that it meant that Alastor wouldn't mind taking everything farther than usual. The man would tease you here and there, whispering dirty things in your ear, because he knew it riled you up. The act of sex, however, just didn't fit his idealism. Any affection from Alastor would include kissing and touching, maybe heavy petting, but the two of you had only had penetrative sex a handful of times. Each time it happened was mind-blowing, leaving you craving more and waiting on bated breath to feel him the same way again. You could feel yourself beginning to flush just thinking about it - the heat slowly building up in your chest and rising until your cheeks were crimson. At least you could blame it on the bourbon, which you quickly threw back and tore your gaze away from Alastor. 

“So,” Alastor sat down on the couch and crossed his legs, and draped his left arm over the back of the couch. “Quiet evening with a shared drink, my darling?”

Honestly, the man was entirely too distracting. It didn't help either that the bourbon was affecting you far sooner than you anticipated. Your mind blanked, seeing Alastor sitting there - sleeves rolled up, bowtie undone, the red vest that matched his trousers that fit him entirely too well. Alastor was your perfect definition of a sex-god that had a distaste for the very thing that you craved. His smoldering gaze and satisfied, closed-mouth grin told you that he knew exactly what  kind of effect he had on you. 

“Are you alright,” he cocked his head to the side. “You look bothered.”

“You're a tease,” you swallowed. 

Alastor’s brows rose in surprise. “Me? I'm just sitting here,” he laughed and beckoned you over with his finger. “Come here, my darling.”

A bolt of red-hot arousal shot right up your spine, and your body moved automatically, seemingly out of your control and under Alastor’s. Alastor moved to uncross his legs and seized you by the hips with his strong hands. You now stood in between his spread thighs, looking down into his brown eyes as he gazed up at you. His lips quirked in a crooked grin, making him look like the cat who got the cream. 

“Tell me how I'm a tease,” Alastor whispered huskily. 

You brought your hands up to cup his face and ran your left thumb along his bottom lip. “You know what you do to me, Alastor.”

Alastor grinned and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Oh, I'm well aware,” the man's pupils were now blown with his own need. “Would you like me to do something about that?”

Relief flooded you, and you nodded eagerly. By now, the bourbon was really beginning to have an effect on you and how much you needed the man before you. “I've been waiting so long, Alastor.”

“The wait makes it worthwhile,” he growled.

Before your tipsy mind could even comprehend what was happening, Alastor stood, effortlessly hoisting you up by the hips, and bounded towards the spiral staircase of the loft Your arms wrapped around his neck and your legs around his slim waist. Alastor’s arousal was very noticeable against your own pelvis. The heat from his girth radiated through his slacks. When his lips met yours in a fevered kiss, your mind blanked with arousal. Your senses quickly became overwhelmed by his touch, his scent, and his taste as his tongue coaxed your own in a scorching kiss. Alastor eagerly devoured your mouth and every subsequent moan he drew from you. He broke the kiss, nipping at your bottom lip as he did so. His lips then trailed down to the column of your neck where he sank his teeth into the supple flesh. You hissed from the pain and carded your fingers through his brunette hair until you had a handful and tugged, earning a groan from him. 

“Fuck it,” Alastor growled and sat you on the steps of the spiral staircase. 

Alastor’s hands snaked up your dress to pull your panties down your legs, leaving the silk garment dangling from your left ankle. You gasped when he cupped your dripping sex in his left hand and breathed against the side of your neck. 

“I’ll have you right here,” he growled and claimed your mouth once again. 

You moaned wontanly into his mouth when he penetrated you with two fingers and curled them against your g-spot. Even though sex was a rare occasion, Alastor had memorized your body from the inside out. Knowing every sensitive spot to kiss, lick, or bite. Alastor groaned and pulled your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged, ripping the most delicious moans from your throat. Each and every sound you made went straight to his cock that was now straining uncomfortably in his slacks. With a tweak of his fingers, Alastor had you coming with his name falling from your lips like the most beautiful prayer. 

“Alastor,” you were breathless, chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath. “I need you inside me.”

Alastor’s eyes darkened, and he carefully withdrew his fingers from your quivering sex. “You’ll have me,” he whispered and kissed you chastly. 

The sound of Alastor’s belt buckle was like music to your ears, as your body was finally getting the attention that it so badly craved. With your left hand, you reached between you and Alastor and took his now freed, sizeable length in your hand. You bit your lip and looked up at Alastor through your eyelashes. Alastor held your gaze as he guided himself into your tight heat, slowly splitting you open and seating himself inside you. Both of you panted, attempting to adjust to the almost foreign sensation. No, you weren’t a virgin, but Alastor had been your first, and since sex wasn’t a regular occurrence, it took both of you longer to adjust. You, more so than Alastor. 

He was thankfully patient, waiting until the pained look on your face was no longer before slowly pulling out and thrusting back into the hilt. The man clenched his teeth painfully and screwed his eyes shut, completely drunk off of the feeling of you fitting around him so perfectly. 

You held onto Alastor tightly, with your nails digging into the flesh of his back, even through his dress shirt. Alastor’s hands had your hips in a death grip, and you hoped that you would have bruises left in their place. You wanted Alastor to claim you - mark you -  so that everyone knew you belonged to him. 

“Come inside me, Alastor,” the words fell from your lips in a pathetic whimper before you even realised what you said.

The look Alastor gave you startled you, and his hips stuttered to a pause. You stared into each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity, Alastor’s eyes searching your own as if looking for truth behind that request. You feared your moment of intimacy with Alastor was ruined until he started moving once more. This time, he moved slower, taking his time pulling all of the way out and sinking back into you. He continued to hold your gaze and leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Is that what you want,” Alastor asked, but it was barely above a  whisper. “To be mine, forever?”

Of course it’s what you wanted. Alastor had been your first, and you wanted no one else. It was difficult for you to imagine your life any different. You would be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about starting a family with Alastor. You brought your hands up to Alastor’s face and looked into those chocolate pools.

“Make me yours, forever, Alastor.”

~~~

You awoke the next morning, nestled in the king-sized bed of the loft alone. Alastor was nowhere to be found, with his side of the bed neatly made. Between your legs was an ache and a stickiness in the inside of your thighs that served as a reminder of the previous night's activities. What little bourbon you had, had also left you with a slight headache that settled over your temples. Coffee would be a good fix, and you wondered why you hadn't smelled it perking if Alastor had already been up. 

There was a fire going in the fireplace when you made your way down the staircase, confirming that Alastor was around, but nowhere to be seen. You thought nothing of it and went over to the kitchenette to get coffee perking and breakfast ready for whenever Alastor returned. 

You sat down in your rocking chair by the fireplace when the coffee was ready to enjoy your cup. The chair rocked rhythmically on the hardwood floor, nearly lulling you to sleep until you heard a god awful noise coming from the crawlspace under the cabin. Your first thought was that a stranger or the police had found the liquor stash, and you bolted out of the chair to get the pistol hidden among your books. 

The door to the crawlspace was in the kitchenette and was flung open, revealing a blood covered Alastor. The man looked up at you with blood splattered across his face and chest, staining his white dress shirt. There was enough blood that you couldn't tell if it was coming from Alastor or not. 

You dropped the pistol that was in your hands and rushed over to him, and hooked your arms around his arm. “A-alastor, what the hell? Are you-”

“It's fine!” He laughed and looked down at you with a grin. “It's not mine.”

Your eyes widened, and you took a tentative step away from him and shook your head. “Then, whose is it?”

Alastor ignored your question and casually walked over to the pot of coffee on the stove. He poured himself a mug, all the while humming a song with that same grin on his face. 

“Alastor,” you demanded. “You're scaring the hell out of me.”

“I'm sorry,” he put his coffee mug on the counter and turned back to you. “This,” he pointed to his stained shirt. “Is just the latest victim.”

“The latest…,” you paled, with the details finally coming together. “You're him.”

Alastor flashed you that dazzling grin and opened a drawer next to the stove. Without even looking, Alastor pulled a massive knife out and studied it. 

“Did you know, my darling, that in order to inflict a fatal wound, you need at least fifteen inches of penetration?”

“Please put the knife do-”

You gasped. Before you could even react, Alastor lunged forward, plunging the knife deep in your abdomen. He stood in front of you, holding the blade in place with his smile never faltering. Pain blossomed throughout your body, and you began to choke on the blood that bubbled up through your throat. You coughed and watched the blood mixed sputum splatter across Alastor’s already stained shirt. Tears fell freely from your eyes, staining your cheeks, and your trembling hands grabbed onto Alastor’s arm that still held the knife inside you.

Blinking up at Alastor through your tears, you saw no remorse on his face. Just that twisted grin that you had fallen in love with so many years ago. 

“You should know I'm too much like my father to have children,” Alastor said darkly. “That's a risk I cannot take.”

Alastor pulled the knife out of your abdomen and stepped back as you crumpled to the floor on your knees. The pain was white-hot, but it was nothing compared to that of your broken heart. Your body screamed for his closeness and wanted to hate him for everything. Even after the previous night, after telling you he would be with you forever. In an attempt to stop the bleeding, you held pressure on the wound, but you knew it was no use. You were dying. At the hands of your lover.

“It won't be long, my love,” Alastor got down on one knee and brushed your hair out of your face. “I'm sorry I had to do this.”

“F-fuck you,” you gasped and choked. 

Your vision was beginning to fade in and out, along with your hearing. The weight of your body suddenly became too much and you fell to your side. Before your head hit the floor, Alastor had caught you and laid you down gently. The last sensation you felt, other than the pain, was Alastor kissing you. It was a passionate kiss, similar to that of the kiss you shared while making love. He didn't care about the blood that pooled from your mouth, but seemed to enjoy it more than anything. When he broke the kiss, you met his gaze, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“I'll see you in hell,” you spit, using every ounce of energy you had left before going still.

Alastor smiled down at your now lifeless body and ran his fingers through your hair. A single tear ran down his cheek, and his smile grew into a grin.

“It's a date.”

Part Two

[try-set-me-on-fire]

@wildlife4life @eddiebabygirldiaz @rewritetheending @lover-of-mine @devirnis and @malewifediaz all tagged me for tidbit tuesday, saw this post and started writing (nervously looking straight ahead and not making eye contact with the ravenous pile of wips foaming at the mouth in my periphery).

“Buck,” Eddie says, in the annoyed voice he uses when Buck is trying to get him to eat yogurt with his fruit in the morning. “It’s fine. It’s fine. I knew you’d- why- stop it. Listen. I feel like this all the time. It’s stupid that I’ve never, like, I never just say this all the time. You’re, like-“

Eddie cuts himself off and Buck waits, sort of fearfully, for him to continue, but the silence keeps stretching on. Buck knows the other side effect of this level on the Eddie Diaz Drunkenness Scale is heightened distractibility, so he probably noticed a nice color or perhaps a bug. They spent a good twenty minutes hanging out with a grasshopper at Hen and Karen’s wedding towards the end of the night, because it was a lovely shade of green and a funny little guy. Oh god, Buck thinks again. I love this man. I love this man a ridiculous amount and we should absolutely wait to talk about it.

But: “You’re tall and you’re in my house,” Eddie says before Buck can do anything to stop him.

“I’m-“ Buck glances around the loft. “Eds, I’m at my place.”

“What?” He sounds so indignant that Buck has to cover his mouth to hold a laugh in. “Why?”

“‘Cause I live here?”

“That’s stupid. You should live with me in my house.”

“Should I?” Buck asks, laugh escaping a little bit. “Also, wait, what does me being tall have to do with it?”

Eddie sighs, long and exasperated. “If you live with me you never have to go home and leave me because you’re already at my house. Your house. If you live with me you never have to go anywhere.”

“Never have to go anywhere?” Buck thinks he’s in shock, maybe, about all of this, but teasing Eddie is something that’s always easy to fall into. “I don’t have a job in this scenario?”

“Well you’d go to work. And other places. But you just come back to me all the time.”

Tagging @jeeyuns @homerforsure @buckactuallys @shitouttabuck @butchdiaz @bigfootsmom @watchyourbuck @daffi-990

[guy-with-the-sleeping-princess]

Hero of the Historia *:･ﾟ✧

I may have been crafting my own Link build behind the scenes with the help of @r4vioandrupees, @serysem, and others within discord so hopefully you enjoy him! I'll place him under a cut so everything doesn't make your dash too overcrowded

(Original build/concept art)

He also has glasses he is supposed to wear which i wouldn't have thought to add till later thanks to @hyruledwarriorr

(Glasses art + doodle of him in them)

The hero of the Historia takes place as the Link, known here as Link Dotour, after the Hero of Twilight and thus firmly places him on the child timeline. Despite being needed in Hyrule he originated from Termina as a relative, or descendant, of both Kafei and Anju thanks to "The Grasshopper" as our Link knows him. Seeing as he grew up in Termina and not Hyrule (until the age of 7 or so for reasons) he moreso heard of The Hero of Time by the nickname his great aunt Romani called him by.

Despite the triforce of courage being drop shipped to Termina he eventually moved to Hyrule along with his godmother,she spoke of the Hero of Twilight as the Rancher she once knew. With that he was gifted a cat, Seraphina, to keep him company despite moving farther away from any family he knew besides her.

But in doing so he was gifted with the catalyst to his first quest at 7 years old as she would eventually run and get lost within the same woods the rancher once explored and find a mansion built over the temple of time. Within it he would find a decayed form of the Master sword he kept calling "Miss Fi" as she could talk to him in glitchy spurts, a key instrument, the Temporal Trumpet, and the corrupted forms of Twinrova. (this adventure's style is supposed to be JRPGMaker horror a-la Mad Father or The Witch's House) The Master Sword would end up decayed thanks to time. Keep this in mind as this will be a running theme.

(The Temporal Trumpet + A list of features and notes, the rifts only happen in his 3rd adventure)

His second adventure did not happen till he was 14, giving him time to rest and hope he was done with all the revivals and visions, as you would have seen on the last adventure, every continue was canon as he died but never stayed dead as to make sure he would not fail. As for the visions, Hylia sent him clips of the past, and future, heroes of every branch to catalog and let him learn from their mistakes.

(The Swords of his adventures + misc daggers he keeps hidden on him)

The Second adventure would catch him off guard at a carnival when Vaati decided to come back to play around, letting him fall into were the Magic Sword of the Hero of Hyrule was kept. In doing so it led him to a maze of underground caverns controlled by the wind and hidden safes of the last two pieces of the triforce. With them down there it led the two on a mad chase to get to get to each piece first which resulted in Link eating the pieces right in front of Vaati so he could not swipe them. Alongside his escapades this is also where his Zelda comes in (as designed by @individualperson8756), searching for him as to make sure the king couldn't due to a useless war with a nation not even on any heroes radar. The King wanted him as a trophy piece, to bolster their bark in a way, but Zelda knew the kind was out of his mind and Link was needed elsewhere, albeit not eating ancient relics, Despite that she was an enemy at the start until she could get it through his head that she was trying to save him from a common one. He also acquired two key items, the Loft Wing to glide with the cavern's winds and the Breeze Baton, which should look familiar, to control them for himself (This adventure's style is supposed to be a more classical LoZ game in the vein of Minish Cap)

(Loft Wings + Breeze Baton concepts and notes)

His Third adventure happens a close while after at 15, but he turns 16 during it, seeing as it is his latest it is still a work in progress with the item still being unnamed but i do still have some information laid out. It would be more of a D&D inspired party system adventure including a friend he picked up in his second adventure and his Zelda. They would also be going up against a broken down Ghirahim alongside him switching out the sword + Shield style for a dual-wielding sped up style of combat, that would remain his style for the rest of his time as an adventurer. Seeing as it is more of a party game he would be bringing many of his past items with the Temporal Trumpet causing them to chase Ghirahim throughout the timeline and through the battles Demise's curse brought onto the Hero's Spirit until finally getting to end him with Miss Fi.

I also do have an idea for a section where Chronicle, his Zelda, gets the party thrown in jail for starting a fight but of course it is still in the starting idea/concepts phase.

Seeing as there are Party Mechanics and Link doesn't use as many magic items as he does melee, he would instead use an item that boosts others' magic and their abilities as seen here for the 3rd adventure's new Key Item.

(Unnamed item concept + notes, the other eye color in the lower gem belongs to @r4vioandrupees' Link Legacy)

That is all the Information/concepts i have on him for now! if you need any more or would like to ask anything please let me know! He is still very much a work in progress as you can see so please excuse any of the gaps in the stories or data ^^' and thank you for reading to the end!

[atrodev]

how did a fucking grasshopper get into my loft

my good sir this is the opposite of grass

[thecozykirin]

The Recipe to Success

( Daily Writing Challenge Day 2 ) Ethel Translations: Babblin Brook: Cook Grasshopper: Copper - - - - - - - - -

"The issue is that ya fin' too 'ard." Etheline's voice barely stirred Soo-ha from her despair. The Gilnean woman scrubbed hard at the burnt...whatever Soo-ha had been trying to make in hopes of salvaging the pot as the small Pandaren herself looked on in sadness at her charred failure.

There were few times in her life where Soo-ha had felt the sting of inadequacy, but this felt like the sharp twist of a knife. / After all, what Pandaren doesn't know how tah cook? / The words from the Countrypaw she had met during one of her city strolls whispered in her ear with far more venom than had been present when it was said. Soo-ha knew that she hadn't meant anything by it, but that did not make the truth sting any less. Soo-ha didn't know how to cook, nothing above heating up a simple bowl of broth.

"Ey." Soo-ha jumped a bit at the small woman's sharp tone and golden eyes lifted meekly to meet stern hazel.

"Ya kna, there's nah shame in not bein' able ter babblin' brook." Etheline tapped the scrubbing sponge several times against herself. "Sum people fin' Gilneans can't babblin' brook worf a grasshopper but we've seen that's not true, ah? so why assume every Pandaren can? I doubt you're th' hirst 'oo can't."

The edges of Soo-ha's lips twitched upwards briefly as she deciphered Etheline's accent; doing so was far easier than it had been the first time she met her. 'I'd feel better about it if we've met others who couldn't.' Soo-ha's ears fell back against the sides of her head as she signed in response. 'Even still, I can't help how it makes me feel...Even the others at the monastery could manage dumplings and I'm sure Yasashi ate better than gruel in the Shado-pan.' Soo-ha bit down on her bottom lip. 'What kind of homemaker can't even do that?'

Etheline pursed her lips out in thought, hip bouncing slightly against the side of the stove. "I'm sure there's summit ya can manage. loike I said, you're thinkin' abaht this too 'ard. ya should stop thinkin' of cookin' loike a pandaren and start tryin' ter do things loike yourself, your way." From behind the glint of her glasses, Soo-ha watched those hazel eyes soften. "Wifaht murderin' more of our pots and pans, mind ya."

There was wisdom in the other woman's words, Soo-ha knew that much. That evening, while Kimiko was frolicking about the camp and Yasashi was helping patrol, she rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Soo-ha stopped trying to mimic the expertise she had admired from her kin and took on a slower pace. Quick chopping turned into steady and rhythmic thumps, and perfection was made sloppy but it was a special kind of sloppy; a her kind of sloppy.

By the end of the night, Kimiko was delighted by the scent that wafted from the wagon and the cub devoured two whole bowls of the stew Soo-ha had made. Yasashi, who had always stomached his wife's attempts at cooking, tried to hid his pleasant surprise but she could tell, his eye did not twitch when he ate this time.

As Kimiko drifted to sleep in the loft, her parents worked on washing the dishes. Looking over to his wife, Yasashi noted the smile on his wife's lips and inquired with a gentle bump of his hip against her. "The stew was very good tonight, Little bell. What do you call it?"

Soo-ha looked up at her husband and with a mischievous blep of her tongue, she lifted her paws and signed: 'Success.' wide a wide smile.

[ashen-vulture]

Oh yeah, there is definitely a drop in the number of bugs, and I live in an area with ready pasture, fields, and thickets. I hate looking out at my neighbors perfectly manicured lawn with no wildflowers whatsoever.

The place I’ve noticed it the most is with our paper wasp population. We have very friendly wasps around my house, you can get right up to their nest to investigate them. They’ll investigate you back and then leave you alone. They love our barn, specifically the hay loft. It’s a good 18ft off the ground, protected from wind and rain, and has a great big open window for them to fly in and out of.

I collect dead wasp nests from that barn. I have nests from 15+ years ago where the whole nest is 5 inches across. I remember being a child loading hay into the loft with the wasps humming overhead. That loft ALONE would have anywhere from 6-10 wasp nests in it of varying sizes. There would also be 2-3 nests in the tack room, and maybe 1 or 2 in each horse stall. We would get a nest or two on the porches of our house, one under the swing, three or four underneath the back porch which is really tall because it’s built on a hill.

But that was 15 years ago. Now when I visit that old loft, there may be three nests. Maybe four. There are none in the stalls. None in the tack room. We have one nest on the front porch. I have seen only one praying mantis in the past 4 years. There are still plenty of katydids, grasshoppers, crickets, Moths, pillbugs, and wolf spiders, but the world definitely feels emptier. When was the last time I saw a dragonfly by my home? Too long for sure. I’ve seen only one Eastern Hercules beetle in the past few years. We used to get swarms of junebugs. The fireflies used to be a spectacular light show that would light up from here to the thicket 500ft away from my house and all the way out to the barn and into the hayfield lot beside us. It’s still beautiful but it’s less a lightshow and more a quietly blinking starry field. Where was my cicada swarm, I love my cicada swarm. I was so excited for the big 17 year swarm and then it just... never came. Feck, I’ve even seen less mosquito larvae, and as much as mosquitos annoy me, little brown bats gotta eat too. Our number of barn swallows has dropped dramatically. The leaf hoppers, plant hoppers, gnats, and flies they rely on for food just aren’t there in the numbers they need.

But I miss my hoards of red wasps. I know a lot of people are terrified of them because they’re flying Pain and have a reputation for being rage incarnate, but I’ve only ever been stung once out of my 20+ years of working around them. And it was entirely my fault when it did happen. Red wasps are beautiful.

I think one of the absolute most frustrating things for me personally about the current climate crisis / late stage capitalism hell is that ontop of people just outright denying it and acting like the rising temperatures are normal- there’s been like. A VERY noticeable decline in the amount of insects yearly. As someone who goes out of my way to see bugs, every single year for the past decade there has been a sharp decline in bugs. What used to be fun filled summer months running around, catching grasshoppers and petting caterpillars… there’s nothing. I’ve seen one grasshopper this year. I’ve not seen a single caterpillar! It’s currently the ant nuptial flight season in my area and I’ve seen 0 winged ants. They used to all but infest my home during flight season

I remember as a kid, I used to excitedly find ladybug larvae, and I’d relocate them to plants covered in aphids. But I’ve seen one ladybug in the past 5 years, and 0 larvae. I’ve not even seen any aphids. It’s so tangible, it’s so noticeable to me as someone who considered this my absolute favourite season to do my favourite activity in. And I know if the bugs are dying off, other things that eat those bugs are to.

And the absolute worst part? When I tell people about this, the average reaction is ‘good!’. A lot of people will express joy over there being less bugs in the world. Most will express how they’re glad they’ve been experiencing less mosquitos and I want to just grab by the shoulders and shake them and yell TONS OF BUGS JUST DISAPPEARING SHARPLY OVER THE YEARS IS NOT A GOOD THING !!

Anyways. Fellow entomology nerds, have any of you also noticed a drastic decrease in bugs you’re finding yearly or is my area just in a bug deficit.

[sarahwilliams2265]

Mastering Rhino: Tackling Advanced Assignments

Are you ready to take your Rhino skills to the next level? As an architecture student or professional, mastering Rhino is essential for unleashing your creativity and efficiently executing complex designs. To help you sharpen your skills, we've crafted a tough yet insightful question-and-answer blog that will challenge and inspire you in equal measure. Wondering, "How to complete my rhino assignment effectively"?- Visit Architecture Assignment Help.

Question 1: You're tasked with designing a parametric facade for a futuristic building using Rhino. How would you approach this assignment, and what tools or techniques would you utilize to achieve a dynamic and visually striking design?

Answer: To tackle this assignment effectively, I would begin by conceptualizing the overall design language and functionality of the facade. Rhino's parametric modeling capabilities make it ideal for creating intricate designs that respond dynamically to various parameters. Utilizing tools like Grasshopper, I would set up a parametric model where parameters such as solar exposure, ventilation requirements, and aesthetic preferences can be easily adjusted to generate different iterations of the facade.

Using Grasshopper's extensive library of plugins and scripting capabilities, I would incorporate algorithms for generative design to explore a wide range of possibilities efficiently. By leveraging Rhino's intuitive interface alongside Grasshopper's computational power, I can iterate through designs rapidly, refining the facade's form and performance iteratively.

Question 2: You've been assigned to create a complex organic shape inspired by nature using Rhino. How would you go about modeling such a form, and what techniques would you employ to ensure precision and elegance in your design?

Answer: Creating organic shapes inspired by nature in Rhino requires a combination of creativity, precision, and understanding of digital modeling techniques. To start, I would gather reference images or sketches to inform my design direction and study the underlying geometries present in natural forms.

Using Rhino's robust surface modeling tools, such as Loft, Sweep, and Network Surface, I would gradually build up the desired shape, focusing on achieving smooth transitions and intricate details. For more complex organic structures, I might employ techniques like mesh modeling or subdivision surface modeling, which offer greater flexibility in capturing intricate details and irregularities.

Throughout the modeling process, I would constantly evaluate the form from multiple viewpoints, ensuring that it maintains both aesthetic appeal and structural integrity. Rhino's analysis tools, such as curvature analysis and surface deviation analysis, would be invaluable in this regard, allowing me to refine the shape while maintaining precision and elegance in the final design.

Question 3: Your assignment is to design a parametric furniture piece that seamlessly integrates functionality with aesthetic appeal using Rhino. How would you approach this task, and what considerations would you take into account to create a successful design?

Answer: Designing a parametric furniture piece in Rhino offers endless opportunities to explore innovative forms and functionalities. To begin, I would analyze the user's needs and the intended context of the furniture piece, considering factors such as ergonomics, materiality, and spatial constraints.

Using Rhino's parametric modeling capabilities, I would create a flexible model that allows for easy customization of dimensions, configurations, and aesthetic variations. Grasshopper would play a central role in this process, enabling me to establish relationships between different parameters and automate the generation of design iterations.

Incorporating principles of biomimicry and generative design, I would explore organic forms and patterns that not only enhance the visual appeal of the furniture piece but also optimize its performance and usability. Throughout the design process, I would conduct iterative testing and refinement, soliciting feedback from stakeholders to ensure that the final design meets both functional requirements and aesthetic expectations.

By mastering Rhino and leveraging its powerful tools in conjunction with innovative design methodologies, you can tackle even the most challenging assignments with confidence and creativity. Whether you're designing futuristic facades, organic shapes inspired by nature, or parametric furniture pieces, Rhino empowers you to bring your vision to life in ways that were once unimaginable. So roll up your sleeves, embrace the challenge, and let your imagination soar as you embark on your next Rhino assignment journey.

[miled72]

In this new Grasshopper tutorial, we will learn how to create a Faceted loft. And at the end, we will see how to can subdivide each polygon into 2 triangles using the LunchBox plugin: https://www.food4rhino.com/en/app/lunchbox.

[cedarboots]

could we hear a little about 'planes is a gender' for the wip ask game? or perhaps the heron story as well? 👀

Thank you! Planes is a Gender (or whatever it will end up being called) is a story I started writing this summer, and I think a lot of US Southeastern summer ended up in it even though it is not set in our world. As far as I can make out it's a story about flying machines, falling stars, cicadas, and being a strange quiet kid on the verge of figuring out that they're going to be a queer adult.

Snippets here:

The cicadas had just begun to sing when the star-trapper came to town.

I was twelve that year, lanky and crowd-shy and uneasy in my skin, and what I liked better than anything was to climb the trees on the edges of the fields surrounding town and watch the sky. We were part of a wide stretch of farm country between several great cities, and the sky above us was always filled with travelers: nimble Grasshoppers lofting into the air and gliding for miles until they drifted down for another launch; fast, sleek transports, gleaming Kestrels and Clearwaters that pierced the clouds like darts; sidewinding sky caravans with their many propellers; even the occasional stately airship that cast a shadow over the whole length of Main Street.

From the top of a tree, I felt I could almost brush their underbellies with my fingers-- I recognized the craft that passed again and again, regulars on their routes, and dreamed wild dreams that one day they would take me with them.

...

I broke through the edge of the field and stood panting at the edge of the bank.

The road was down in a hollow between the two raised fields; the far one lay fallow, and in the midst of the high clover sat the strange craft, its props spinning to a halt.

It was built like a skycutter, I decided, but larger and more muscular than any trim little Wayfarer or swept-back Kestrel. The solid body and sturdy riveting made it look almost military. Still, it had the long wings and sizeable fuel tanks of a cutter. I liked her; she was a voyager.

The cockpit opened, and I froze. The pilot climbed out: a stocky figure in a noon-colored flight coat, who removed a heavy round helmet and tucked it under one arm.

I watched silently as the stranger sat down on the wing of the cutter and looked about, quite at ease. The sharp lines of that coat struck me as mechanical, as though its wearer belonged in the belly of that flying machine, another part made to measure.

I would go up and say something. I would. I took a step forward, teetering on the edge of the bank-- the pilot turned and saw me, and smiled.

[nymphinity-blog1]

6/2or3/17

I’m mobbin’ in a 60′s warzone touring a beat city that resembled Troy or Cohoes after a bomb went off. I love feeling the heat on my face after a colossus explosion. Seperating myself from the crowd, i infiltrate an abandoned building, set to make it to the loft at the tippy top. Whilst creeping up the staircase, a plump magenta ant spin kicks on one leg on the top step, startling me. Finally reaching the loft, a jung grasshoppa zips about mid~air among various other tinier insects. This grasshoppers’ seems to have a slight deformity..for it has a single elongated leg dangling from its thorax. Reminding me of a latter dangling from a flying helicopter swinging 2&fro.

[eureka-roleplay]

ALESSIA ZABINI is looking for her FORMER ROOMMATE AND CLOSE FRIEND. They are 30-40 years old and people say they look like LUPITA NYONG’O, IVANA BAQUERO, EMMY ROSSUM, DIANE GUERRERO, NATASHA LYONNE or UTP. You DO NOT need to contact MIA first

Name: UTP

Description:

They first met in 2005 as very young grasshoppers, when they were both looking for a room in a shared apartment and gunned for all the same rooms, all of which they both lost out on at the last moment

The whole experience had them team up and look for a place together, along with two other girls they had met during their search for a room

Eventually they settled in an old loft owned by an elderly cooky artist couple in the Parnassus/Cole Valley/Haight-Ashbury neighborhood and lived there throughout their college time

Alessia and this character became close friends, who love to banter and laugh, and who know that they can rely on each other and help each other work through whatever problem they are facing

This character has first-hand knowledge of the rise and especially the epic fail of Alessia's last serious relationship, even though they weren't roommates anymore by then, and is one of the few who know the real reason why Alessia took the position in Eureka

I imagine a more artsy type, but this character's career path / college studies / profession are completely UTP

[skyeventide]

@zealouswerewolfcollector tagged me in the 7 sentences meme again so here we go

The sky, the earth, and the sea yet lie in the glassy pallor of daybreak, and the morning star yet swims in the emptiness of the heavens. A scattering of roses comes then at the edges of the world, the blooming and the splendour of Anor grows with ineffable grace, and beyond the shrubby dunes of ivory sand the shoreline glitters back and forth like a wall of spears raised in the light.

From the pockets of his jute clothes, Daeron draws his old pipe of reeds, old and frail, and brings it to his lips, the dear shape of the instrument like a lover’s mouth. Blowing against the holes, the whistle of music comes in with the dawn, a high note vibrates as the call of seagulls as he moves the pipe flute with his hands.

Pure sounds like the blackbirds and the robins and their trills, elated like the froth of the waves and the jumps of the grasshoppers among the grass that grows on the dunes.

Then he holds a note, and holds it long and stubbornly and with skill, then makes it waver only to keep it again until his lungs are empty and its growth is like the golden fire of the sky, its fading like the fading of the last star, hanging from the high roads.

When he lowers the pipe at last, neither has he drowned bitterness nor is his knife less heavy at his belt.

taggin.... @fatalism-and-villainy @paradife-loft @playing-with-inks @nienna324​ @theotherwesley​ @catullan​ @jamcake-muses​ @ryo-maybe idk that y’all are writing anything but if you are join me, and anyone else who wants to post a wip, just tag me as if I’d tagged you

[officialleehadan]

(I see a mouse.)

“We’re not looking for mice.”

(Now I see a grasshopper. I like grasshoppers.)

“We’re not looking for grasshoppers either.

(How about foxes?)

“The human kind?”

(The furry kind.)

“Focus, Barre. We’re out here for a reason.”

(SQUIRREL! I love squirrels!)

“We are not here for squirrels.”

(I want it.)

“We have a job to do!”

Lancel watched his familiar through his scope as the falcon folded her wings and plummeted for the ground, the image of elegant control, perfection on the wings. She was beautiful, barely a spot against the nearly-cloudless blue sky as she caught the thermals off a wide field, well below Lancel’s perch in the undergrowth.

Well, to anyone who didn’t have to wake up to half a dead squirrel on the face. The perils of having a peregrine falcon for a familiar. Oh, Barre wasn’t so bad. He heard the stories from others in his same predicament. As far as things went, he could deal with her occasional inclination towards food.

But she had a full stomach right now. He fed her before they left their base camp. She was just bored and looking for something to distract her. In a way it was good; if she was bored, she wasn’t seeing any movement nearby.

On the other hand, he really did need her to focus.

Dammit, they were supposed to be doing a scouting run! He was a sniper! His job was to see the things no one else did, so their platoon didn’t get ambushed in enemy territory!

(I angered the squirrel. You can have it.)

Wait.

What?

Lancel didn’t have time to regret his life choices, as an absolutely furious squirrel dropped out of the sky, directly into his comfortable little sniper nest.

There really wasn’t time for anything actually, as the squirrel, outraged to have been grabbed my a falcon, and then dropped onto a human, went on the attack.

“I’m gonna turn you into a feather pillow!” Lancel cursed at Barre as the squirrel charged, chicking at him, tail flagged. “I’m gonna stuff you like a turkey!”

The squirrel darted in and he tried to bat it away, only for it to fasten its’ teeth into his glove, sharp little teeth finding skin underneath. He grabbed it by the tail, and it released his glove only to scramble madly for the dark sanctuary of his sleeve.

“Oh hell no!” he snarled, and tried to sling the squirrel away, only for it to wrap itself around its own tail. No less furious for the offense, it propped itself up on tiny, clawed paws, and screamed in his face.

Lancel screamed back.

So did Barre.

Before he could process the shriek of his familiar, she was there, shooting through the trees like a knife, all gray-barred wings and extended talons.

Barre was not a large bird, but she looked much larger when she was aimed directly at your face.

Lancel screamed.

So did Barre.

So did the squirrel.

They went down in a pile of feathers, fur, and leather.

So much for being stealthy. There was no such thing as stealth with an angry squirrel in your face.

In a remarkable display of athleticism, the squirrel untangled itself from its tail and screamed at Barre, who was on her back and flapped furiously to right herself. Lancel still had the squirrel by the tail, and did the only reasonable thing left to him.

He lofted the angry rodent into the air, not even bothering to see which direction it flew, only that it was away.

For a moment, there was silence in the forest. Slender white-barked birch trees rose up around him, leaves golden as autumn came in, the air crisp and fresh. The undergrowth danced in a gentle breeze, still flush with full growth.

Lancel dared to take a long, slow breath.

Screams erupted from the nearby bushes, punctuated by the shrieks of a still-raging squirrel.

Lancel froze in the middle of scooping his familiar onto his wrist. Barre stilled with him and immediately focused on the now-thrashing bushes with barely a rustle of feather as she settled on his wrist.

“Uh,” Lancel said, and gathered his rifle onto his shoulder just in case. His caution turned out to be wise, but unneeded as two enemy soldiers tumbled out of the bushes, grappling desperately to catch the squirrel that had, by now, drawn a good deal of blood. “”That… doesn’t seem good.”

(We should go,) Barre whispered into his mind, a bundle of puffed grey feathers on his wrist as he backed away towards the scant cover of the forest, and the rest of his platoon beyond. (They haven’t seen us yet.)

“They’re definitely busy,” Lancel agreed as he crept into the bushes and away from his sniper’s nest. If there were already soldiers here, his job was moot anyway. He was a sniper, not a trooper. If the enemy could see him, he had already failed. The soldiers, however, were not paying the least attention to them, and he made his getaway into the bushes without detection. “Next time, stay away from the squirrels while we’re on duty!”

+++

Beastly Familiars:

Animals will be animals, no matter how intelligent. Sometimes animals will be… well… Beastly.

Nothing but Trouble

Bad to the Bone

Oil and Water

Master of All

Hunting Practice

Under the Desk, Up on the Bookcase

Mouse Hunters

Hooter

Bandit

In the Walls

Stone’s Throw

Fish Bucket

Caterwaul

Tilting at Windmills (Subscriber Only!)

Blue Rings and Crabs

Pounce (Free on Patreon!)

Fruity Fruit

+++

MORE STORIES!

+++

[gecko-chann]

Tag game

(I just want to warn you: tumblr deleted my previous post when it was almost done, cry with me)

I want to thank @notquitewitches for the nomination and the academy for the oscar (?)

Do you make your bed? -> Yes and everytime I want to die because I have a loft bed (letto a soppalco in Italian) çç

What's your favourite number? -> It used to be 6, but now I don't have a favourite one

What is your dream job? -> Dubber/voice actress or I'd love to work in a library, book/comic shop etc

If you could go back to school, would you? -> If you are going to send me back in time and you warn my teachers that no, I'm not lazy, I just have dyslexia, I'd love to! I love learn things! Otherwise no

Can you parallel park? -> Yup

A job you had that would surprise people? -> None is relevant in this case, sorry

Do you think aliens are real? -> Due to all the scientific and philosophical studies that have been done, yes

Can you drive manual? -> I can ONLY drive manual: I live in Italy in the fucking mountains I HAVE TO SURVIVE

What's your guilty pleasure? -> Potato chips

Tattoos? -> None so far

Favourite colour? -> All shapes of blue, carta da zucchero (I don't know how it's translated in English) and any pastel colour

Favourite type of music? -> Rock and similar

Things people do that drive you crazy? -> It's the longest list ever, I'm not even entent to start

Do you like doing puzzles? -> Not a lot

Any phobias? -> Sooo many! Claustrophobia, I'm afraid of dark, praying mantis, grasshoppers, I have social anxiety so imagine me in claustrophobic crouded space D: and probably others I don't recall

Favourite childhood sport? -> Gymnastics artistic (I still do it after almost 17 years <3)

Do you talk to yourself? -> Yes, it's pretty helpful when you have to learn a language! Also I'm like those grannies who talk while they do things, but instead of simply talk I sing

What movie do you adore? -> Rocky Horror Picture Show, Kinky Boots, Hercules (the Disney one), Emperor's New Groove, The Road to El Dorado and others

Coffee or tea? -> Tea

First thing you wanted to be when you grew up? -> Steve Irwin *cries in the corner*

Well...I tag my bff @giulia-liddell because I know her new fans want to know things about her 😉 (and these are not very personal questions like "where do you live precisely" or similar), @zibaldone-di-foto-e-pensieri and anyone who wants to join this nice tag

Enjoy c:

[evanestscent]

Variables that can be changed are Aspect Ratio, Max Angle, and Min Edge. The height is defined by the A-B subtraction component, and must be negative because the extrusion needs to go directionally under the surface. An integer slider can be used there, since it will most likely have to be adjusted after baking the form to be milled. 

Experimentation occurred with two lofted curves, the second one with sharper “hills” than the other, as well as one euclidian angled plane. The curves formed smooth highs and valleys reminiscent of a rolling landscape, which was emphasized with its finely tuned stepped variables, with 1.01 Aspect Ratio, 9 Max Angle, and .966 Min Edge. The second set of lofted curves had more abrupt angling, which was emphasized with chunkier variables, and the euclidian plane looks like a set of stairs since it is only changing slope on two axes. 

The process of choosing the design involved iteration in changing variables on grasshopper, finally producing a compelling form, which ties into our readings about iterative digital design. 

[anoushkam311-blog]

Exercise 5: Surface to Solid

Manipulating ‘Virtual DNA’ // Human Intervention in Design Processes

“Like traditional drawing, digital production is a generative medium that comes with its own host of restraints and possibilities. Digital practices have the potential to narrow the gap between representation and building, affording a hypothetically seamless connection between design and making. As with any design process, however, there are invariably gaps among the modes of making. and, as with all tools of production, the very techniques that open these investigations have their own set of constraints and gear particular ways of working. innovation is born out of this fissure and advances design.” - Lisa Iwamoto

While experimenting with the Grasshopper file, we found we were most interested in manipulating the maximum edge and the minimum edge of the meshed surface.

We were interested in testing and pushing the limitations of the meshed surface, technological limitations of the mill, and materiality. We wanted to exploit the gap both between and within design and fabrication processes, and recognize the possibilities and limitations embedded in each step. This impulse was catalysed by a desire to manipulate what DeLanda calls the ‘virtual DNA,’ and experimenting with the ‘population’ variable he describes: ‘adding points at which spontaneous mutations may occur’ to the ‘sequence of operations.’ The experiment reflects the ability of computation to mimic ‘mutant instructions to propagate and interact collectively over many generations.’ This was done by altering what we established as extensive qualities (maximum edge and minimum edge).  

Our initial surfaces, made from lofting 2, 3 and 4 closed curves, proved to be too complex for the fabrication process. Paring back was necessary. We created and meshed a surface with two curves to form a surface. We duplicated this surface. The maximum edge and minimum edge of both the volumes were manipulated, producing visually different volumes that are both borne out of the same profile curves and meshed surface. Our final product combines these two, one half complex, the other a simpler rendition of the same initial geometry. When milled, both shapes produce very different aesthetics, emphasizes how altering variables can alter the fabricated volume so drastically.

complex side:

min edge: 0.958

max edge: 8.989

simple side:

min edge: 5.762

max edge: 8.882

Conclusively, although technology has such incredible ability to streamline design and production and eliminate intermediary steps between design and fabrication, the exercise brought to light the sometimes overlooked human influence and human choice on design to control the product, since the curves we meshed could produce over a thousand different surfaces with a different combination of variables, all aesthetically varied.