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liongoatsnake · 4 months

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Alterhuman Review: No I Am a Wolf

Author: A.M. Lang

Illustrator: Patricia Dishmon-Caraballo

Publication Date: January 2022

Official Book summary:

George can’t be bothered with mundane human tasks; he is a wolf. Wolves and kids have many differences but they also have some things in common. Embrace your child’s wild side with this cute story plus animal facts.

So, we've been aware of this children's book for about half a year now. Upon first seeing it, we feared this might be a Johnny The Walrus by Matt Walsh situation. (That is, a thinly-veiled transphobic dig at the existence of transgender people, that accidentally also hits the alterhuman community due to its content, wrapped in the guise of a children's picture book.) But after gathering up courage hope, we finally bought a copy not to long ago. This book is NOT anything like Johnny The Walrus by Matt Walsh. No transphobia here and this book is also accidentally very alterhuman affirming as well.

The book consists of 21 illustrations with text. With each turn of the page the reader sees the left page showing George (the book's character) as a boy having to do ordinary human boy things (brush teeth, put on clothing, bathing, etc.) with text telling George to do said task, while the right page shows a wolf in George's place along with an affirmation "No, I am a Wolf" (usually, several scenes are instead in the positive, "Yes, I am a Wolf") along with additional text saying what a wolf would or would not do. The book ends with George being told: “Good night, my little wolf.”

While the author likely meant to create a cute children’s book showing a child imagining himself as an animal in the way that is common and normal among children, the book also happens to be very alterhuman. As someone who lives with a full phantom body, the illustration of a wolf stuck in situations doing everyday human things, like brushing your teeth, certainly felt very “yeah it be like that.” So, in summary, cute children’s book that is accidentally very alterhuman and is not transphobic at all! Yay!

#alterhuman book #children's book #book review #therianthropy #alterhuman #otherkin

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pictureinme · 8 months

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Fic idea: reader takes kitten out on a picnic for her birthday or their anniversary and treats her the way she deserves to be treated and like reader gives her all these cute gifts and treats and it's just a cute moment

thank u so much for this request !!! i felt so inspired by this ;-; it may be a bit more than you expected !

autumn breeze

patricia ‘kitten’ braden x f!reader word count: ~1.2k tags: romantic fluff, established relationship, marriage proposal, kitten appreciation hour is in full effect

(ao3)

Kitten walks blindly through the park, unaware of just how beautiful the falling leaves look across the grass. You’re guiding her through winding paths, all the way to a secret spot you paid the caretaker off to leave undisturbed.

Her outfit was as beautiful as ever, and the only criteria you gave her was to dress for the season. While she giggles incessantly, you take it in: a roomy brown sweater which nearly enveloped her hands, tucked into orange corduroy flares, paired with brown mule heels.

You uncover Kitten’s eyes, revealing the surprise she has been anticipating for a week now. Her eyes darted quickly, taking in the set-up before her: a yellow gingham blanket, and atop it was an overflowing picnic basket. She could only imagine what else could be awaiting her, but she could definitely see a familiar wine bottle and accompanying glasses.

“Oh, darling…” Kitten’s hand comes to cover her agape mouth.

You grin, hugging her tightly from behind, “Happy anniversary, my love.”

“Even bought my favorite wine…” She spins around, and her hands come to rest on your shoulders. Her eyes are sparkling, hints of tears threatening to spill. “Thank you, (Y/N).”

“Don’t thank me just yet!” You guide her down to the blanket, kicking off your flats before sitting. “You haven’t even seen the records I brought.”

Kitten daintily takes off her heels, grinning almost maniacally as she kneels on the fabric, “Do tell!”

“I brought all of our favorites,” gesturing to the case against your hip, she notices you had the portable record player, as well as your book of 45s. “Goldsboro, Rubettes, Sweet… even some Stevie!”

You rifle through the binder, and pull out your Bobby Goldsboro “Honey/Danny” single– something you bought for Kitten on your second date. She glowed when she unwrapped it, revealing the orange magenta label with her favorite song’s title plastered onto it.

Kitten holds the record carefully as you set up the portable player, its wood grain stark against the gingham, a holdover from your parents’ generation. She places the disc onto the center spindle, and you place the needle. The sweet, sweet sounds of adult contemporary fill the space.

The warmth of the afternoon lay dappled on the ground, wrapping the two of you in something like a yellow aura. Kitten’s nails were adorned with an orange polish, with delicate flowers– painted by you– in white. Her hand is on top of your own, and you bathe in the feeling of contentment. The autumnal breeze was cool, but welcome.

From her reclined position on the blanket, she hums, “We should probably eat before whatever it is goes stale, hm?”

“Perhaps,” you groan as you move from your own lounging, “You do tend to be the voice of reason.”

You shuffle towards the picnic basket, and hand her the bottle as well as the glasses. Opening it further reveals to Kitten the true lengths you went to for this event: cucumber sandwiches, various berries, cheeses, and crackers, and even more she couldn’t see.

“Goodness, you pulled out all of the stops, didn't you, dear?”

Laughing slightly, you take the bottle back from her and pop the cork, “I’d pull the stars from the sky if it could make you happy, my love.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as you pour the Sauvignon blanc into her awaiting glass, “Oh, such a poet you are.”

You pour your own glass as she takes out the sandwiches and charcuterie set-up. Kitten splits the sandwich triangles between the two of you.

“Thank you, my love,” Kitten bites into her sandwich, careful not to smudge her meticulously painted lips, “Truly.”

“It’s our third anniversary, and you always do so much for me,” you pop a cube of chèvre into your awaiting mouth, “You deserve so much more than this, Kitten.”

Cocking her head, she hums, “Well, you’ve certainly outdone yourself! Can’t remember the last time we could do something so romantic together in public…”

You bite your lip slightly as her lidded eyes meet yours, “Me neither, I had to bargain for this spot, you know. Sold all our assets away!”

“Shame, I was just about to blow it all at the slots tomorrow night with Charlie.”

“And you weren’t going to invite moi?” You hold your heart in faux offense, “Now I don’t feel so bad about auctioning off your precious silk slips.”

“You did not!”

Laughter erupted from your throat, “Dear, I would never do such a thing! You really must pick up a book on sarcasm.”

Rolling her eyes yet again, Kitten smiles as she tosses a blueberry in her mouth, “Silly, silly girl. On our special day, too.”

You grin widely, and the pair of you continue to eat away at your borderline rabbit food and white wine. The way her head is thrown back after a particularly raunchy joke you made, or how her blonde curls bounce when she’s truly excited, you couldn’t get enough of it.

The two of you make it through almost all of the records before you decide to reveal the true surprise of the afternoon.

“Doll, could you check the basket for me?” You coyly ask, busying yourself with cleaning the stray napkins and empty berry containers. “I’m sure I forgot something.”

She cocks an eyebrow, “You, forgetting something? Believe it when I see it, love.”

You watch as she leans over the picnic basket, moving her locks from her eye-line to properly check. As she investigates, you feel your heart begin to race. What if she said no, what if–

“(Y/N)!” Kitten practically shrieks when she finds the so-called missing item. “Is this what I think it is?”

She moves back to sit in front of you, an expression of pure joy written all over her face.

“Patricia ‘Kitten’ Braden, saint of my heart… will you marry me?”

Her hand was held open to reveal a golden ring, within the center was an oval diamond cushioned by two smaller ones.

“Oh, God, yes, yes!”

Before your hand reaches to slip the ring onto her finger, she’s caught your lips in a kiss that would’ve knocked off your feet, had you been standing. You could feel her heart beating out of her chest, and you raise a hand to cup her cheek.

“I love you more than anything in the universe, my Kitten. I know it may not be easy, getting married and all, but–”

Kitten shakes her head slightly, a tear falling from her eye, “Don’t say such things right now, we’ll be okay.”

Nodding, you smile through what you realize are your own tears, and take the ring from her still outstretched hand. You hold her left hand in yours, and slowly slip the delicate ring onto her finger. Her breath hitches, and so does yours.

“Please tell me I’m not dreaming, darling,” the desperation in her eyes made that knot in your throat hurt so much more.

“Far from it,” you kiss her sweetly on her plush lips, “This is as real as it gets.”

#kitten braden x reader #patricia braden x reader #breakfast on pluto #cillian murphy x reader

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queenscholar · 9 months

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leona kingscholar's gift for tonight seems a little bit special

cw tw // nsfw , mindbreak , overstimulation , don't open the post if you dont want to see there are graphic drawing

art is commissioned to tasya and fic written by me, please do not steal them

“Leona, I’m only letting you have Patricia this once and bring her back before nine, clean and bathed, not limping. Do you understand?” Vil Schoenheit was disgusted with himself to say it outloud, he wasn’t keen on giving away his best friend for the night to the despicable prince but he also knew if he swung by her room tonight, she would be gone already. So why not set some ground rules?

“Oh and what about the other times that have already happened?” Leona smugly replied, before laughing as he saw Vil bursting with a cuss word he tried to hold back so desperately with the assistance of Rook and Epel beside him.

When the party was over, Leona returned to Savannaclaw and wasted no time after he took the shower and changed, straight to his room for what Patricia had prepared for him tonight. He was getting giddy with excitement, was it a brand new lingerie? Was it her, lying naked on his bed? Or the repeated same old tricks with nothing but stiletto?

And again, his phone dropped for the second time in his history when he opened the door, thinking he was prepared but he wasn’t at all. Leona closed the door immediately as his eyes couldn’t be averted at anything else beside Patricia laying on her bed with nothing but ribbon, covering her private parts and tying her hands, like she was a gift delivered to him.

So, she went classic, yet Leona Kingscholar couldn’t help but say he liked this old surprise thing. Patricia only smiled a sly one, seemed like he was enjoying the view a bit too much to stand on the side of the bed while staring at her with his members getting hard and his tail wagging excitedly behind him.

“Leona, do you like your present? Patricia asked the obvious question as she saw the glint on his eyes.

“A little bit too much, how do you manage to tie yourself anyway? No one saw you like this before me, right?” Leona asked, from fascination to a sudden possessiveness.

“We have magic, I tie myself up with some practical magic as you can see the pen has fallen on the floor.” Patricia answered, Leona averted his gaze to see her pen on the floor for a second before returning back to the smug Patricia.

“Now, untie me Leona.” Patricia offered her hands to the said male who was climbing up on top of her. She was too excited for the night.

“Nope,” Leona replied before ravishing her with a kiss, which startled her, what did he mean by no? Patricia tried to break it off with only her face, and when she did, she asked him a bit enraged.

“What do you mean by nope?!”

“Maybe I want to let my gift rip herself apart slowly,” Leona answered as he positioned himself behind her, placing Patricia on his lap. His fingers trickled down from her covered ribbon nipple, that was clearly hard as Patricia jolted a bit from his touch, to her belly before reaching her abdomen, ghosted over her lip’s opening up and down as Patricia moaned “Leonaaa,” needily to his ears, then he untied the ribbon on her abdomen.

“Starting with this one tear to your hole, Patricia.” Leona whispered as he inserted the tip of his finger to scavenge around her lips,playing with the glands it produced, making Patricia’s whining intensified before inserting his finger one too suddenly earning a yelp from Patricia.

“Birthday is when wishes come true right? And tonight, all I want to do is break Patricia Venenum incoherently so all she could think of is me as she orgasms over and over again.” Leona then kissed her neck as Patricia whined “Noooo,” when his finger rhythmically thrusted in and out inside her.

It started with a finger, then it came two and soon enough it was replaced by his dick pistoning nonstop inside of her. How many times has she come? Patricia couldn’t remember as she was crying for the nth time tonight coming down with a crash. Her mind was broken, her focus was scattered and Leona was enjoying it all too much as he heard his name chanted repeatedly by her lips, alongside incoherent words. Her ribbons already loosened up, though the one in her hands was still pretty tight.

“Aren’t you cute as a present?” Leona teased grabbing her face, even though he knew Patricia wouldn’t have a response to that seeing her fucked out expression. Her leg was up in the air supported with his hands gripping her thigh as Leona’s dick thrusted inside up, finding the perfect position to reach her deepest place over and over. Patricia was numb with the overwhelming feeling of pleasure yet Leona didn’t stop his thrust there, kept ramming as she was cumming. The tension from the thrust built up while she was not done yet, resulting in her squirting all over him when Leona whispered those words to her.

Number of screams were incoming as orgasms were both from Patricia and Leona, pretty sure everyone in Savannaclaw heard about it though they wouldn’t dare to utter a word. Leona had many things planned to do to wreck Patricia, so forgive him when he flipped the girl with only half a mind right now on top of him. Her body was still shaken from coming as she collapsed on his body, shuddering but Leona wasn’t satisfied yet.

“If you couldn’t ride me, I will manhandle you from below, okay Princess?” He asked, Patricia only responded with a “Huh? Okay…” As she couldn’t even process a sentence but Leona was playing an unfair game here. She wasn’t even finished and he was brutally manhandling her from the get go, nails pressing down on her big ass cheeks, purple marks were sure to be shown tomorrow when they were down with how tight he was gripping it to lift her ass up and down his shaft. She cried for Leona to stop then harder, like she couldn’t make up her mind, her body kept hitting Leona’s abs as she couldn’t even hold on him for support, her ribbon hands being damaged, slowly undone with the process.

“S-stop, L-leona, ahh!” Patricia cried, her ribbons were measly scattered by now as she found her hands free from the tight ribbon, she grabbed Leona’s arms for support immediately. Nails digging to his arms as she hit another of her peaks again today and Leona wasn’t helping to calm down the stimulation as he was sinking his teeth on her chest area, making marks everywhere to be visible. When they were done for a while, gasping for stability, her face was a mess yet Leona found it more beautiful than before as he took her in a kiss. Of course, that didn’t mean the night was over.

Leona found himself behind Patricia again for tonight, he had cummed numerous times, inside her and she did too, mixing loads of their cums together inside her, a bulge even appeared on her stomach.

“Greedy for my cum, aren’t you?” Leona asked after the sight, kissing her again. He was quite proud of it, stuffing her to the fullest. Leona took a recess, finally slapping his penis away for a second to see their cum oozing out together from Patricia’s vagina and he could see, she was full to the brim.

“Don’t let it spill, Patricia.” Leona whispered to her ear as she was still crying, tears couldn’t stop riveting from her eyes, her body was shuddering, so overstimulated from tonight that her brain couldn’t function.

“Y-yes,” Patricia answered, it was so unlike her but she didn’t even know what slipped past her lips anymore. She even felt another cum was coming with how sensitive she became just from Leona rubbing on her clit lightly.

“We are over for tonight.., right?” Patricia asked, helplessly, finally regaining half of her sanity back. While Leona sill parading his fingers all over her oversensitive clit, making her shivered everytime as her loins coiled up with every touch to a sense what was coming.

“Oh no, we aren’t. Not until I can confirm you can’t walk completely tomorrow or you are rightfully pregnant with a Kingscholar.” That was of course a joke, or was he half serious? Patricia couldn’t process it but as she was just about to throw a little fit, she found Leona Kingscholar had made himself inside again as she carved her walls with his shape and her body underneath him.

And with that another wave was incoming, crashing again with her yelling Leona's name at the top of her lungs. Patricia Venenum would say she was very very regretting the stamina Leona Kingscholar had, because he just hadn’t had his fill yet by that dangerous glint.

#leopat🦁🖋#leona kingscholar smut #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland oc #twst #twst oc #leona smut #leopat writing #leopat smut #leona kingscholar #twst smut

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edlboetie · 2 years

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I'm not interested in heaven unless my anger gets to go there too. I’m not interested in a happy eternity unless I get to spend an eternity on anger first. Let me speak for the meek and say that we don’t want the earth, if that’s where all the bodies are buried. If we are resurrected at the end of the world, I want us to assemble with a military click, I want us to come together as an army against what happened to us here. I want us to bring down the enemy of our suffering once and for all, and I want us to loot the pockets, and I want us to take baths in the blood.

"Power and Light" - Priestdaddy, Patricia Lockwood

#it occurs to me just now that for essay collections like this i should probably add the chapter title before the book title #whatever i'll fix the other ones when i have wifi #memoir #patricia lockwood #quotes #priestdaddy

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orionchildofhades · 9 months

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steddie swapping soulmate au part 6

---

Walking the halls of highschool for the first time ever is more than a little intimidating.

Steve remembered the way his father had announced all and every single of his expectation before leaving.

the name Harrington means something around here and Steve has to remind everyone of it.

but those thoughts were easily out of the window by the idea of his soulmate.

just thinking of it was enough to make his heart beat fast, faster than any of the cars his father had shown him during the trips this summer.

and he might meet him just today

him

he remembered waking up, fifteen for barely a couple of day, in a new bed. in his soulmate's. in Eddie's.

relief, to find the proof of it, of him being meant for someone else, had soon left room for a frantic panic has he realised how he had turned into panic.

he was in a boy's body, and even though he did not mean to peek, his soulmate had gone to sleep in a lack of close that left almost nothing to the imagination.

except from a pair of boxer hiding the worst, he could see everything from shoulder length hair to very flat chest to a single pierced nipple that Steve had hurried to cover in the first shirt he found on the floor.

said floor had been covered in a frenzy of notebooks and clothes and a couple of papers crumbled and thrown in the vague direction of a trash can.

horror upon the view had taken hold of Steve's chest, hearing from here the screech his mother would let out of she ever found his own room in such a state before a startled laugh burst out of his lips.

it was so fucked up.

his father would kill him if he learnt his soulmate was another man.

but after a second, or a minute, of careful breath, Steve had stood up and went around the room, something reverent burning softly in his chest. his hands had followed the wood of the shelves, the spines of well loved books, caressed the glossy red of a stunning electric guitar.

it was scary.

it was exalting.

the idea of soulmate had always been a far away dream. no tangible reality to cling to. his parents relationship could be described as rocky at best and they always told everyone they were soulmates, the perfect couple written in the stars, god sent and blessed by the heavens.

(wait a couple of days of seeing him around before talking)

but they weren't exactly perfect.

they were screams and silences, evenings spent without a word, sharing a meal without warmth. they were wine bottles and glass full of bourbon. they were blank eyes upon harsh words. orders and expectation. they were not there.

the idea of a soulmate had always been a far away nightmare. something he wished so badly was different, would not happen to him, something binding him and someone else who would offer him nothing but quiet and loneliness.

but this room... it had been full of life. so unlike all his family had ever shown him.

it was like what his grandparents had tried to show little Steve once before they died and their memories faded in the past of a life that was not his anymore.

it was life and personality and a slight ordeal of chaos and, while Steve roamed the room, he slowly learned that, maybe, just a small and quiet maybe, this soulmate might not be so bad.

and he had learned about him, about Eddie. About this boy a year older than him, who lived with his uncle in a trailer park, who cooked and burned eggs when he was too preoccupied by his music but who, apparently, could make killer pancakes when he wanted. about the way he grew up, vaguely, hints here and there from Patricia, another soulmate, just as sweet as the smell of the cookies they had cooked, and much nicer than his own parents. once more.

maybe this all soulmate business is not as terrible as i thought, maybe the only terrible soulmates are my parents.

the voice was quickly shut down.

nonetheless, Steve had had the time of his life for a couple hours, using all the time he had to bath in the warmth of it all.

and the best part ? his soulmate lived in Hawkins.

So Steve walks down the halls of this new school, apprehention burning beneath his skin and the shimmer of excitment making everything glow a little bit brighter.

After all, not many soulmate can meet each other so soon. Wouldn't it be fantastic to actually learn from him, instead of through him?

Steve spends a few days trying to get a hold of the situation, understand the dynamics of the school and get a look at his soulmate.

He signs up in a few clubs, excited to see all the sports team he can join. He hangs around a couple of friends he had since childhood, the daughter of one of his dad's co-worker and the son of his mom's favorite neighbour.

Carol and Tommy. Carol was nice, a bit loud when she wanted attention and excited like never before to storm the world. Tommy had always been quieter, sticking to his friends and waiting for things to unfold. The three of them were close, years spent at each other's house, playing and fighting like children do, growing into gossiping and sharing secrets.

He did not yet told them about Eddie though.

Simply because Eddie is his to keep and his to know.

Soon, he thinks, i'll meet him soon.

At lunch this day, Steve sits between Carol and Tommy, a couple of older students across from them with smiles on their faces. The eldest Haggans, Richard, is senior and smile devishly at his brother when he annonces he joined the basketball team, laughing at his brother's expense when he explained he might try to get a scholarship this way. They all run in the same circles, even came several time at the Harrington's household when they organised parties for work.

In the corner of his eyes, he spies Eddie comming in the cafeteria alongside his friends. In the last week, he gleaned as many information about him as possible. He intends to see if he can talk to him after class during his club activities, perhaps even join it if he manages to find a way to hide it from his father.

He doesn't really understand the whole role playing business. Patricia had tried to tell him what she knew of it, which was not a lot. Things about magic and dragons and maths? somehow. Still, Steve became curious and couldn't wait to discover more about his soulmate.

Eddie's eyes slid on him across the room, before snorting at a joke from his friend. A bit of bread is thrown across the table, hitting one of the people on his cheek before they started bickering in midly wild gesture. He didn't glance at him a second time.

That is another strange thing about this situation.

Eddie had not come to him at all.

Steve has an excuse, except for his slight nervousness obviously. he barely knows the way to his classroom. Eddie on the other end, had all the time in the world to look for him.

But it was fine.

Steve remembers the way his head pounded when he came back to his room after swapping, to his body. Ideas and names might not be the clearest thing to remember.

All of it would certainly come back when, this afternoon, Steve would go to him.

It is with a sliht tremor in his hands and sweat dripping down his back that he makes his way toward the room in which the Hellfire club holds session. But the hope is stronger than the fear, the idea of someone taking care of him and being loved by him so important his heart swells and he steps forward, hand ready to knock.

the doors open by themselves, or rather by Eddie, who stands being them, arms wide open, towering over him with a hint of darkness behind his eyes.

"Well, would you look at that. A lost sheep." He announces with a booming voice, a sly grin on his lips. Steve can't tell whether it is directed at him or at his expense.

Nervousness creeps back, clinging at his shoulders and his cheeks tint lightly.

Behind Eddie, the rest of the club observes the scene with keen eyes, not saying anything. The table in the middle of the room is filled with papers, dice and small dolls? more like the things in the monopoly, thown across the board. They probably represent the characters, Steve realises.

"I, hum, I came to talk to you?" That sounded wrong. More like a question than an actual answer.

Shaking his head, Steve tries to stand a bit taller, straightning his back and looks at Eddie in the eyes. Big eyes, full of all the life he found in his room last time.

He shouldn't be scared. This is his soulmate. No use being nervous.

"And what would a Harrington want with little old me?"

Surprise hits Steve in the chest.

So he does know who I am?

Doubt starts to creep it's way into his brain.

"I wanted to join your club," he says, he glances behind his soulmate once more to look at who he thinks is the head of the club, trying to send a smile her way.

"And what club would that be?"

With a frown, Steve drags out his answer, "Hellfire," he reads of Eddie's shirt even if he knows it, showing the design with a finger and grin, hopping to take the strange tension in the air own a notch, "the dragons and dungeons club?"

Someone snorts in the room and Eddie's eyes darken slightly.

"Listen, we don't accept jocks here, everyone heard the loud statements you and your little friends are making by joining every sport club okay, and we don't accept the kind of people who hangs out with Richard fucking Haggan. This was a funny encounter, now move along."

His throat swells with telltale feeling of tears. Confusion and a strange pain course through his body. He takes a step back, frowning, trying to come up with something to understand why his soulmate, who clearly told him he recognised him, rejects him like that.

Did Steve do something?

"But, I wanted to-"

"Not interested," Eddie finishes.

The doors clap back right in his face, leaving him alone in the empty corridor, alone with the turmoil of feelings hacking at his heart and brain.

he swallows up tears before nodding vaguely.

well, that was just humiliating.

---

i love angst :)

remember, both Eddie and Steve are years younger than what we see in the show. We meet Eddie when he is 20/21 yo in s4, and Steve is 17/18 in s1 and 19/20 in s4. Here they are -barely turned-15 for Steve and 16 for Eddie. I decided to change a few things about how they act compared to later.

hope you liked Steve POV

this chapter is longer than my usal!

(i started this fic during my holidays and i only had my phone to type on, this is on a computer, therefore, longer. And with probably with more typos)

#i think eddie started dming very fast #he had a calling for narration #and dramatics #if we're all being honest #so yeah #sophomore eddie is the dm #maybe not the sole one in the club but the main one #not head of the club tho #steddie #steve harrington #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #orionwritesthingies

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hometoursandotherstuff · 1 year

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The current owners of this 1904 manor invested $2M to restore the 8 bd. 10 ba. home in Minneapolis, Minnesota. They listed it for $3.495M and it’s been on the market for almost a year. But, it really is beautiful. Have a look.

Interesting- 2 entrances and a gorgeous port cochere.

Look at how the wood gleams. It has a roomy foyer with a bench and double windowed doors.

Beautifully detailed millwork.

This is different- an open sitting room.

A cozy library with an original fireplace.

Right off the library is a lovely sunroom with stained glass doors and windows.

A very formal dining room with pocket doors.

Here’s the larger formal sitting room.

A large enclosed porch is off the sitting room. There’s room for a sitting area as well as a dining area.

Step outside the porch onto a pretty patio.

The kitchen is very white, but nicely renovated.

Very nice pantry. This home was meticulously restored.

What a pretty little guest powder room. The top of the sink is original.

The main bd. is a suite with a dressing room and en suite bath.

What a beautiful landing and upstairs hall.

Lovely bd. and bath.

Plus, there’s this cute little porch.

The rear stairs lead to a ground floor. You can see the wine cellar ahead.

Here it is.

There’s a large rec room with a pool area. Great for entertaining.

Look at this- a mud room with a dog washing station.

The attic is finished and has a nice living space with a new skylight.

There’s also a kitchenette.

And, 2 bds.

As if that isn’t enough, there’s a carriage house w/an apt. upstairs.

It even has a fireplace.

Plus, a nice kitchen, bd. and bath.

The gardens look beautiful in the summer, but Minnesota gets snow in the winter, so here it is just about now, and it’s still impressive.

https://www.edinarealty.com/patricia-pidcock-realtor/homes-for-sale/1415-mount-curve-avenue-minneapolis-mn-55403-6151760

#manor #historic renovation #houses #house tours #home tour #old house dreams #long post

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berryhobii · 3 months

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HAPPY BLACK HISTORY MONTH! 🤎🤎🤎

For Day 2, I wanted to give a list of black inventors and their inventions. Due to the whitewashing of history, many people don’t know about the revolutionary inventions that black people created. Some inventions were stolen by white inventors and patented so that these black inventors never got credit or revenue. There were also many instances of discrimination that didn’t allow black inventors to patent their inventions; they were often asked for extensive proof and sometimes, their inventions were destroyed and the ideas were given to white inventors to take credit for instead. Thankfully, that isn’t the case anymore and black inventors have ingrained themselves into history books and text. Let us look at some of the inventions that make life today much easier.

Michael Croslin(1933-1989): Blood Pulse and Monitoring Device

Frederick McKinley Jones(1893-1961): Roof Mounted Refrigeration for Vehicles

Garrett Morgan(1877-1963): Gas Mask and 3 Light Traffic Signal

Sarah Boone(1847-1904): Improved Ironing Board

Mary Van Brittan Brown(1922-1999): Home Camera Security System

Alexander Miles: Automatic Elevator Doors

Henry Brown(1800s):Safe Deposit Box

Alfred L. Cralle(1866-1920): Ice Cream Scoop

Lyda Newman(1898): Synthetic Hairbrush

Doctor Shirley Jackson: Breakthroughs in scientific research that allowed others to create call waiting, Caller ID, the portable fax and many others

Albert Richardson(1894): Casket Lowering System

Doctor Patricia Bath(1986): Invented Laser Probe that revolutionized cataract and other eyes surgeries, even restoring the sight of many individuals

George Crum(1824-1914): Potato Chips

Charles Drew(1904-1950): Blood Banks

David N. Crosthwait(1898-1976): Heating System

These are just a few of the hundreds of things black people have invented and so many of them are used to make life easier and better. So we thank all of these inventors for what they endured and the study they set forth to give us not only simple luxuries and pleasures but also advancements in medicine and science.

THANK YOU BLACK INVENTORS AND SCIENTISTS🤎🤎🤎🤎

#black history month #black history #history #black lives matter

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blackhistorychatgpt · 3 months

Text

Black inventors

From Perplexity:

Famous black inventors have significantly contributed to various fields, from everyday household items to groundbreaking technological advancements. Here are some notable figures:

George Crum (1824-1914): A chef who is credited with inventing the potato chip in 1853[1].

Frederick McKinley Jones (1893-1961): Developed refrigeration equipment for trucks, trains, ships, and planes, receiving over 40 patents. His invention, the Thermo King, revolutionized the food and medical transport industries[1].

Granville T. Woods (1856-1910): Accumulated almost 60 patents, improving railroad functioning. Notably, he invented the induction telegraph system for train communication[1].

George Washington Carver (1864-1943): An agricultural chemist who developed 518 products from peanuts and sweet potatoes, including ink, dye, soap, and synthetic rubber[1].

Madam C.J. Walker (1867-1919): Became the first African American woman self-made millionaire by creating a line of hair products for African American women[1].

Garrett Morgan (1877-1963): Invented the traffic signal and a safety hood that served as a prototype for the gas mask[1].

Mary Beatrice Davidson Kenner: Patented the sanitary belt in 1957, a significant advancement in women's health and hygiene[1].

Thomas L. Jennings (1791–1859): The first African American to receive a U.S. patent, for a dry-cleaning process[4].

Patricia Bath (1942-2019): Invented a laser cataract treatment, becoming the first African American female doctor to receive a medical patent[4].

Mark Dean (1957-present): Holds over 20 patents, including contributions to the creation of the color PC monitor and the first gigahertz chip[4].

Elijah McCoy (1844-1929): Known for his invention of the automatic lubricator for oiling steam engines, leading to the phrase "the real McCoy" to denote something authentic[4].

These inventors have left a lasting impact on society, demonstrating ingenuity and perseverance in the face of challenges.

Citations: [1] https://www.oprahdaily.com/life/work-money/g30877473/african-american-inventors/ [2] https://www.parents.com/kids/education/world-changing-black-inventors-that-every-kid-should-know-about/ [3] https://www.black-inventor.com [4] https://www.biography.com/inventors/g46697619/famous-black-inventors [5] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_African-American_inventors_and_scientists

From Gemini (formerly Bard):

20 Famous Black Investors with Short Descriptions:

Dr. Shirley Jackson: First Black woman to earn a doctorate in nuclear physics, invested in research and development for the U.S. Department of Defense.

Robert F. Smith: Founded Vista Equity Partners, a private equity firm with over $85 billion in assets under management. Known for his philanthropic endeavors.

Oprah Winfrey: Media mogul and investor, known for her investments in cable channels, production companies, and Weight Watchers.

Udayan I. Lekhraj: Founded CMG Partners, a private equity firm specializing in healthcare investments. Advocate for diversity and inclusion in venture capital.

Catherine Hughes: Founded Urban One, a media company serving the African American community. First Black woman to chair a publicly traded company in the U.S.

Rodney Bryant: Co-founded JUST Capital, a firm that measures and incentivizes corporations to prioritize stakeholder capitalism.

Ellen Johnson Sirleaf: Former President of Liberia, Nobel Peace Prize winner. Focused on economic development and investment in her country.

Ronald Lauder: CEO of Estee Lauder Companies, known for his investments in the beauty industry and philanthropic work.

Charles R. Bronfman: Chairman of The Seagram Company Ltd., invested in various industries including entertainment, real estate, and philanthropy.

John Rogers Jr.: Founded Ariel Investments, a mutual fund company with over $28 billion in assets under management. Advocate for responsible investing.

Marc Morial: Former mayor of New Orleans, currently president of the National Urban League. Focused on economic empowerment of Black communities.

Ronald Watkins: Founding CEO of Watkins Investing Group, invests in real estate and businesses within the Black community.

Melody Hobson: President and CEO of Ariel Investments, known for her work on financial literacy and diversity in boardrooms.

Aisha Evans: Founded BE Capital, a venture capital firm focused on Black and Latinx tech entrepreneurs.

Kevin Hart: Comedian and investor, known for his investments in production companies, streaming platforms, and sports teams.

Jay-Z: Rapper and entrepreneur, known for his investments in music streaming, sports teams, and venture capital funds.

Will Smith: Actor and investor, known for his investments in production companies, media platforms, and venture capital funds.

Serena Williams: Tennis champion and investor, known for her investments in venture capital funds focused on women and diverse founders.

Rihanna: Singer and entrepreneur, known for her investments in beauty brands, fashion lines, and technology startups.

LeBron James: Basketball player and investor, known for his investments in media companies, production companies, and technology startups.

Please note: This list is not exhaustive and can be debated in terms of individual importance and impact.

Reading List on Black Inventors:

Black Inventors: Lives That Mattered by Darlene R. Medford

Hidden Figures: The American Dream and the Untold Story of the Black Women Mathematicians Who Helped Win the Space Race by Margot Lee Shetterly

Lifting the Veil: Celebrating the Unsung Heroes of Black History by Michael Hill

Lost Genius: The Forgotten Black Inventors Who Changed the World by Dennis Freeman

Pioneering Women in American Mathematics: From Agnes Scott to Emmy Noether by Pamela Prochazka

Black Inventors in Science and Technology by Shirley J. Smith

A Colored Man's Reminiscences of James M. Whitfield: With Recollections of the Early Struggles of Colored Men in Boston by Wilbur H. Siebert

Inventing the Future: Black Inventors in Science and Technology by Geneva Gay

African Americans in Science, Math, and Invention by Darlene R. Medford

Black Inventors in the United States by Darlene R. Medford

This list offers a variety of books covering different periods and areas of innovation by Black inventors. Consider exploring further based on your specific interests.

I hope this information is helpful!

#african american history #black history month #black history month 2024 #dalle3 #midjourney #black inventors #blackhistorymonth #africanamericanhistory #afrofuturism #solar punk #steampunk

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frozenprocedural · 1 month

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24 Elsarik :D

"Your Hair is So Soft"

Rating: K

Set in my Costs an Arm and a Leg verse. Alarik belongs to @patricia-von-arundel.

“You're joking.”

“I am not. Yes, Kristoff had reservations at first. But now, he loves it. Never asks for one, but he never turns it down either. I'm telling you, washing his hair, with a scalp massage? Alarik will be putty.”

Elsa shook her head, balling up her napkin and placing it in the aluminum takeout bowl. “I guess. It's just not something that immediately comes to mind.”

Anna swept their trash into the paper bag and stood. “Oh, it doesn't. But he'll love it. If I'm wrong, the next chocolate haul is on me. But I won't be. Which means you can pay.”

Elsa didn't think about their conversation until Alarik came home a few days later, his face tight with pain. Before the door had even fully closed behind him, he had his prosthetic and sleeve off, rubbing the burned skin of his stump.

“Oh, Alarik. How bad?” She offered her hands, and he allowed her to work on his skin, massaging in slow, gentle circles.

“Enough. It's been building for the past few days. I probably should have rested it more.”

Elsa hummed, continuing to rub his arm. Anna's suggestion came back to her, and she smiled up at Alarik, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“I'll warm up the leftovers, and then I want to try something, if you're willing.”

He turned so he could kiss her mouth, wrapping his other arm around her waist. “Of course, darling.”

…….

“I certainly could have started my own bath.”

“I know. But it's not just a bath. Now, how's the temperature?”

Alarik padded over, dipping a finger into the water. “Perfect.”

“Good! In you go.”

He settled in, looking back at her as she adjusted the chair so she was sitting by his head.

“Are you joining me?”

“Not this time. I'm going to do your hair.”

His face scrunched in confusion. “But I-”

“I know you can wash your hair. But I want to try this. To give you a chance to relax. May I?”

Alarik rested his head against the towel she'd placed on the tub's rim, smiling. “Of course. I put myself in your capable hands.”

Elsa chuckled, leaning forward to place a kiss on his head. “I need you to lift your head so I can rinse your hair, though.”

After a thorough rinse, Elsa pulled over the pump bottle with Alarik's 3-in-1 shampoo. “I still don't understand how this works for you, while I have to use multiple products.”

“The benefits of having luscious, curly locks, I suppose.”

Elsa rolled her eyes and laughed, splashing his neck. “Goose.”

Several pumps of shampoo onto her hand, and then she started, working it into his hair and scalp, working up a healthy lather. Elsa was surprised at how much she enjoyed it- running her hands through his hair and hearing the bubbly-scratchy noise of the shampoo was soothing in its own way. She could feel Alarik relaxing beneath her, his shoulders slumping and… shaking?

Was he crying?

“Alarik? Are you alright? Are you hurting?”

He sniffed, wiping his hand across his eyes. “No, I'm fine. I… it's… no one's ever done anything like this for me before. And… it's so nice… Oh God, why am I crying so much!?”

“Hey, hey, it's alright.” Elsa rinsed her hands in the water, then shifted the stool so he could look at her. She placed a hand on his cheek, using her thumb to wipe away the tears. “It's okay to feel. I'm here. And I love you, so, so much.”

Alarik sniffled and turned to kiss her palm, his hand coming up to cover hers. “I know. I'm so lucky to have you. And I love you so, so much.”

How long they sat there, Elsa wasn't sure. Eventually, Alarik looked back up at her with a quirked smile. “Would you… would you start washing my hair again?”

Elsa smiled back and shifted the stool. “Of course.”

She added in some more shampoo, and soon Alarik was sighing and slumping against the tub as she massaged his scalp. Elsa kept it up for a few more minutes, before tapping his shoulder.

“Time to rinse.”

He turned so she could see his pout. “Do you have to?”

She laughs. “Yes, Alarik. Besides, I'm sure the water is getting cold.”

“I'd survive.” Still, he sat up, letting her rinse. He took the proffered soap from her and finished washing himself, before reaching forward to pull the drain plug. He stepped out and toweled off, while Elsa grabbed his bottle of moisturizer. She followed him into their bedroom, and waited until he got dressed to sit beside him on the bed.

“May I?”

He didn't hesitate, but immediately placed his stump into her lap. She was struck, as often was the case, by the trust he had in her. Alarik had grown more accepting about his missing hand and burn scars over the years, but he still tended to want to at least keep the skin covered while out in public. But that didn't happen with her.

“You don't have to ask, you know. To touch…” He raised and lowered his stump.

“Would you ever stop asking me for permission to touch mine? Or work on my prosthetics? Even though I say yes every time?”

“Of course not! You might not want me to touch it at some point! I don't ever want to assume… oh.”

Elsa leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “Exactly. The same goes for you. Every. Time. Now, let's take care of your skin.”

Elsa squeezed a dollop of the lavender-scented lotion onto her hand. She was thorough, working the moisturizer deep into his skin, making sure to massage it well. She felt Alarik relaxing against her, and smiled, happy to see that he appeared to be feeling better.

“You are amazing.”

She closed the bottle with a giggle, and passed him his nightshirt. After donning her own pajamas- just an old shirt of his and a pair of shorts- she settled into bed, tugging on his arm until he laid down next to her. She cuddled into his chest with a sigh, raising one hand to run it through his drying curls.

“Your hair is so soft.”

She felt more than heard his chuckle. “What can I say? Luscious locks.” He kissed the top of her head. “Thank you, again. That was really nice.”

“I'm glad you enjoyed it. Just… don't tell Anna.”

“Wait, what?”

#elsarik #alarik #elsa #CAAAAL verse #ALL! THE! FLUFF!

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campgender · 6 months

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My father comes home from work and he is exhausted. He winces as he walks on his knee replacements, he hunches under extra weight, feeling always the subterranean throb of his back, sometimes exhaling a distressing sound of pure suffering—never the word “God,” but close: gad. It was always this way. He came home and there was nothing left except a desire to be alone with himself, so he could regenerate the language he needed to speak universally. There is a certain fatigue that comes from always presiding over the baptisms, the weddings, and the burials—the three ceremonies where you are most certain to encounter poetry, even if it is present nowhere else in your life.

A truce, then, between me and my father’s house. I was not made in his likeness, but I have chosen something of his same extremity, his willingness to be available for the questions that knock on the door in the middle of the night. His voice inside the verses was so sweeping, his judgment from the pulpit so black-and-white, that it was hard not to inherit them. It was hard not to inherit the desire to stand over the deceased and say something, and it was impossible, finally, not to inherit his anger. As long as I lived under his roof, I told myself that I had no temper, that I would never speak that knot of heat I felt so often in my throat, forced down into my rib cage, sent flowing into my fingertips. But I belong to myself now, and I can admit it. When I sit down at the desk, the anger radiates out of me in great bronze spikes, like holiness in the old paintings, and a sermon rises up in me as if it had been waiting for breath, and puts itself together bone to bone.

I’m not interested in heaven unless my anger gets to go there too. I’m not interested in a happy eternity unless I get to spend an eternity on anger first. Let me speak for the meek and say that we don’t want the earth, if that’s where all the bodies are buried. If we are resurrected at the end of the world, I want us to assemble with a military click, I want us to come together as an army against what happened to us here. I want us to bring down the enemy of our suffering once and for all, and I want us to loot the pockets, and I want us to take baths in the blood.

What do I want? I want him to have a job, and be living in your house. I want us to stop selling heaven as the home we don’t get here. I want an afterlife for my anger; I want levitation, perfection, and white wings for it, and I want an afterlife for my question, which is an answer.

But for now the question just hangs in the middle of the air, halfway up the blue sky, the long unbroken mosquito whine of a why, and the only thing that answers is the voice of my father, saying what he always said, saying the same thing your father always said: “Life isn’t fair, nobody ever said it was going to be, who told you that.”

from Priestdaddy by Patricia Lockwood

#as a pastor’s kid + poet this page got me in a way nothing else ever has #priestdaddy #patricia lockwood #mac’s bookshelf #quotes #parents #rage #mac has another faith crisis #goddamn i am my father’s son #god the father

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