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~Under the Blue Lights~


The situation was
much beyond words to soothe the delirious Fereldan soldier. Had the situation itself been any less hectic, Éleanor may have risen both of her eyebrows in surprise at the usage of her first name coming from the Commander. It wasn’t that she minded, per se, but it was the fact that he rarely even used her name to begin with. Had he ever, really?

That didn’t matter now, however, for what mattered was that she could get him to calm down. Having walked in on the former Templar at his weakest, such a reaction was to be expected.


She barked his name with authoritative and assertive tune, hoping it’d do something to snap him out. One hand gripped onto his wrist, pinning it right above his head (with great effort, considering that shewas shorter and physically much less powered), her hand pressed against the center of his chest with her whole weight leant to it, aiming to keep the whole of him pinned.


It was under extreme control that Cullen didn’t whip the woman off of him. He wanted her off. Gone. He wanted lyrium but her entry had stopped him from going to get it from the storehouse. Which he was quite glad she had intervened.

Cullen’s gaze weavered for a moment. Blurred as fatigue hit him like a druffalo. His body shook slightly as his knees suddenly buckled. He fell to his knees on the ground at Eleanor’s feet. His body shaking as his brow hot. 

“I’m so sorry…” he breathed, his hands coming up to cover his face, “This is killing me…but I must endure. I need…to show them it can be done.”

Post-Truth and Chaos - Chronicle of Higher Education (subscription) (blog)

Chronicle of Higher Education (subscription) (blog)
Post-Truth and Chaos
Chronicle of Higher Education (subscription) (blog)
Now we have, thanks to the Oxford English Dictionary, at least one Word of the Year: post-truth. Here, we do seem to find ourselves in a Looking-Glass World. Isn’t truth eternal? How can something be post-truth unless truth itself has somehow become …
Authoritarianism and Post-Truth PoliticsNiskanen Center (press release) (blog)

all 3 news articles »
New Landmark Study: Tighter Pesticide Regulations Key to Reversing Pollinator Declines

This is an excerpt from a press release from the Center for Biological Diversity:

Tighter regulation of pesticides is the top recommendation issued by leading pollinator researchers to reverse dramatic declines in populations of  bees, butterflies and other pollinators, according to a new paper just published in the journal Science.The researchers’ urgent recommendations for protecting pollinators come on the heels of last week’s release of the largest and most comprehensive global assessment ever of pollinators, which found that 40 percent of pollinating insects are threatened with extinction.

Seventy-five percent of food crops and nearly 90 percent of wild flowering plants are dependent on animal pollination, according to the global pollinator assessment by the Intergovernmental Science-Policy Platform on Biodiversity and Ecosystem Services.

The study also found that pesticides — specifically a class of insecticides called neonicotinoids — are a significant driver of wild pollinator declines. In January 2016 the Environmental Protection Agency admitted that a neonicotinoid called imidacloprid poses a significant risk to bees. But almost a year later, the agency still has not taken any steps to substantively reduce use of the highly toxic pesticide. Europe has banned neonicotinoid use and Canada has proposed a ban on imidacloprid because of the treat it poses to pollinator populations.
African Leopards One Step Closer to Endangered Species List, Protection From Trophy Hunters

This is an excerpt from the linked press release from the Center for Biological Diversity:

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service has announced that all leopards may qualify for “endangered” status under the Endangered Species Act. The decision comes in response to a legal petition submitted in July 2016 by The Humane Society of the United States, Humane Society International, International Fund for Animal Welfare, the Center for Biological Diversity and The Fund for Animals.

Leopards are at risk of extinction across their African and Asian range, having suffered a population decline in sub-Saharan Africa of more than 30 percent in the past 25 years, in part due to unsustainable trophy hunting by Americans. Yet due to a loophole in place since 1982, hundreds of leopard trophies per year have been imported into the United States without proper scrutiny by the federal government or scientific experts. In 2014 hunters imported 311 leopard trophies into the United States.


  • In sub-Saharan Africa, the leopard population has declined by more than 30 percent in the past 25 years, and the species has lost 48 to 67 percent of its historic range in Africa.
  • Between 2005 and 2014, at least 10,191 individual leopards were traded internationally as hunting trophies, with the United States as the top importer (accounting for 45 percent of this trade).
  • The number of leopard trophy imports has remained over 300 per year since 1999, despite commitments from the Fish and Wildlife Service in 1982 to only allow “very few” leopard trophies into the country.
  • Panthera pardus is listed on CITES Appendix I, which prohibits international trade for commercial purposes, but this international agreement does not prohibit trade in hunting trophies.
  • Competition for records and prizes, such as Safari Club International’s “Grand Slam Cats of the World” and others, drive wealthy trophy hunters to seek out the world’s rarest animals and encourage trophy hunting at a time when the long-held belief that such killing aided conservation efforts is crumbling under increasing evidence that ecotourism boosts economies more than hunting expeditions.
  • Trophy hunting is under increased scrutiny following the 2015 killing of Cecil the lion in Zimbabwe.

Oh, and by the way, do these two guys holding the dead leopard they just killed look familiar to you? They would be the two sons of your president-elect, Donald Jr. and Eric. I assume that the leopard they killed is reflected in the above statistics.

The Truth About Donald Trump's Lies: Debunking Them as Lies Misses the Point - Slate Magazine

Slate Magazine
The Truth About Donald Trump’s Lies: Debunking Them as Lies Misses the Point
Slate Magazine
Put in plain language, fascists didn’t lie to obscure the truth; they lied to signal what would eventually become truth. Or to use Arendt’s analogy, “It is as though one were to debate with a potential murderer as to whether his future victim were dead …
Authoritarianism and Post-Truth PoliticsNiskanen Center (press release) (blog)

all 2 news articles »

Authoritarianism and Post-Truth Politics - Niskanen Center (press release) (blog)

Authoritarianism and Post-Truth Politics
Niskanen Center (press release) (blog)
In response to the bizarre politics of 2016, the Oxford Dictionaries have selected as the word of the year “post-truth,” a term that highlights how far we’ve come in the eleven years since Stephen Colbert coined “truthiness” for his comedic coverage of …


This is the original concept and idea behind the folding joints for the tent. The fabric would be laced around the poles and and when you press the center joint down it pulls the poles into tension. Once done, you would unhook the middle strap and it would fall flat. I have mocked up some 3d models for the pivot joints and will be printing them on Thursday. Hopefully everything fits, and I can make multiples of everything.
Beginners Guide to Homework Help - | US Free Press Release and Distribution center
Have you been suffering from homework challenges lately and you don’t like to do the homework at all, and you would rather sit back and relax at home (like me). I have a solution for that really worked for me, and no one needs to know about that. You can hire the professional homework help

Have you been suffering from homework challenges lately and you don’t like to do the homework at all, and you would rather sit back and relax at home (like me). I have a solution for that really worked for me, and no one needs to know about that. You can hire the professional homework help

November 14th was the first day of the XX Bienal Panamericana de Quito (BAQ2016). At the conclusion of the afternoon lectures, the UDBS attended the Bienal’s open Networking event. About an hour into the event, a chorus from Universidad Tecnológica Equinoccial (UTE) provided everyone with a splendid performance. The media/press center adjacent to the Agora at the Casa de la Cultura, where the event was held, completely transformed in the context of the live music. 

Past Shimbashi every day
She’s an algorithmic conversion of raw satellite photography
She’s been there slipped to the side the sleepers on the Yammy and the Shinny
the Shizuoka Press and Broadcasting Center.

Lenses capped after a hard day’s spot search
[Nakagin, over there, was passed by a overbrown oyajigyagu]
away from sticks poking jetset photographers and regulation-riding hoi-polloi
I washed up by Tsukiji
there fishermen brawl for their stenchy last days
life’s still violently stuck in the sewers 1935–LASTBID!
in Shizuoka, I dunno …
the office’s offlimit
the candystore'sn’t.

“A blue is blue, but it is not the same blue if you put it next to a yellow.”
   The usual relationship of things in their normal life is re-considered in cinema. As an identity, it has that identity from the regularity of its relationships, its normal-ness. To introduce a cinematic cut, then, is also to cut the normal. The brutality of an instant puts Tokyo and Brussels in the same moment, 9400 km travelled between two blink’s interval. That situation isn’t normal, but it is fascinating in the darkhall. The director as architect; would he cut up the city the same way? The director as a wife … the husband’s socks fly to drawers in bachelor pads …

“True self” can be an illusions, a role as any other mask, but significantly more chewy, lasting for years, nonetheless changing. Purporting to be the same, we say “We’ve grown”, not “We’ve changed”; accumulative, not substitutive; assimilative, not exchangeable. Something grafted to the stem. Moving around in this illusion like trees without roots, writing off former friends as “fake” or “unreliable”; integrity & ideal, unchanging purity. Souls of non-believers no longer promised eternal paradise now demanding a lifetime of I. A name when born, don’t lose it. Your body too; Theseus’ ship, the same or not, must stay the same. The ball is not red; it is blue. OK. But why? Slowly replaced – why “I”? Why say, “I’m still here”? Certain parts of you are; we favour such nerve clusters, non-reparable, as constant: the tree heals, with no loss of “tree-ness”; so too Self, yet no-one has sufficiently defined Self so everyone can agree on it – a problem whose solution no-one wants to hear: Self as indeterminateness. As centre, as that unchanging self, it is core in-itself, of our essence, our identity, our “I”. Not the stem cell. It is a means to restore the tree, not to make a rock. The ever-awake, ever-moving material conglomerate, living or not … despicable thought! Instead, we choose do die with dignity: Winston Churchill is terminated by Winston Churchill’s death, and “nobody like him will walk this Earth again". I am what I am, He said, and made us in His image.
   But across the desert, the mountains, the rivers and the sea, other gods made other men, and they liked to joke and move between each other. So, too, does thought, but if all thoughts move, if all limbs move, if all places walk the arrow of time, why must the self remain, somehow intact between all these instances, the same as unfathomably given? “You’re no longer who your were”, we say to people who have disappointed us, but what we all do, is to move. You know it is so, and you shrug and drop it like an outgrown sweater. Metamorphosis of the “I”; maybe you, or maybe who you were 3 years ago, not certainly so but quite likely. The “I” that “I” think “I” am (all 3 of them) is left behind, or moves ahead. It’s someone else now, and somebody else tomorrow.
   A swimmer holding on to a piece of wood on the surface of the sea, already able to breathe under water …

Some to matters
Some to the times and spaces
where matter’s found.
A million billion thoughts over ten-thousand hundred years
but nothing ever moved the questions.
Did they?

“Do good.”, the Lord spoke.
So we tried to do good and a hundred philosophers all over Europe and later America came to write together all elaborations possible on the commandments for achieving good in the universe and in harmony with all beings, including the dispersion of additional beliefs to believers not yet believing, so everyone can learn to do the good and to finally be united with the singularity of God in the eternity beyond the timeless.
Why didn’t he just tell us to lighten up a bit?
“You can’t smash-slogan a society on that”, says logic, rationality, common sense, and our dissertation supervisor.
Would’ve been fun to build a society on sex and drugs only, but the question is if you could call that a society, at all.

The Mahalo Trail

Kai stared down at the Pokeball within his hand. This sort of thing would never cease to amaze him. This Pokeball was transported digitally, over a hundred thousand kilometers, in mere seconds. 

 It was the first time he had ever done anything like this before, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious about it. He turned the Pokeball around in his hand, before turning away from the machine, and faced his friend, Merina, once more. 

“Hey Skip! C’mon out!” He called, and pressed the center button on the Pokeball. The bottom half of the Pokeball instantly snapped open, and there was a bright flash of light, as a Pokemon came forth, and materialized on the ground between him and Merina. 

It was a large Skiddo. The Skiddo shook out his fur, and trotted back towards Kai. He raised his large head, and ‘baa’d’ loudly at him. Kai of course, laughed and patted Skip on the head, “Good boy!”

He looked up at Merina, “Well, I’m ready! Let’s go already!”

sylvain-tolbert  asked:

➳ ((Smiles innocently.))

Ishgardian.” It left her lips in disgust while circling him; predatory steps are made, languid and purposeful, to the one that was made to kneel into the very soil he defiled with his dark power. She felt the energy he radiates, it was intoxicating and worth the prize, but her own was in command of the land he now finds himself a prisoner of. 

Golden light meets the wisps of darkness

Once one enters her domain, they find no escape; eyes are found in the boughs, the wind whispers warnings to her, and the trees shift to create a byzantine maze to keep one wandering here for suns, moons if she favored it. He was given to her as a gift, but she found it to be insulting, at first.

“I need reason to keep thee breathing, and if peace is such a reason, so be it.” Her foot was swift and came suddenly without warning to press unto the center of is spine; enough weight is applied in her action to send his chest to the cool of the grass. His smug expression was not completely removed and the mage was quick to take notice how it unnerved her.

She was beautiful.

    He was handsome.

        They were deadly.

Ah, she had power over his life, here, in this land. Sylvain  knew that the war, beyond her beloved trees waged on, but his gift was be subdued for the sake of an oath made between her people and his own. 

He felt reprieve when she stepped no longer on his back, but her fingers captured his chin and he was dragged up so their eyes met and the ghost of her kiss lingered on his lips whilst she spoke against them. “Know thy place, noble. There is no title for thee here, I am thy lady now, and it is on thy knees where I shalt keep thee until I am satisfied with the conclusion of this war.”