luminary gardens

They can be buttoned together in a stack (footrest mode), buttoned together in a square (big floor cushion mode), or used individually (cushions mode).

I started off with this big 1-metre square foam floor cushion, which I liked but was hard to store when not in use.

I wanted to keep the option of a big floor cushion without it having to just lurk behind the sofa. At the same time, I wanted an extra footrest. So I decided to find a way to make the cushion convertible in some way.

For a while I toyed with having it fold up like a monopoly board. But I couldn't come up with a way to construct and secure the cover without bulky zips everywhere.

So then I considered just making four separate cushions that could be secured together in different configurations. For a while my best idea was to have something like a belt or strap, which could either go around the circumference of the 2x2 floor layout, or around the stack. But I didn't like the idea of having to deal with that band as a loose separate item.

@cassolotl had the genius idea to use loops to chain up the sides to keep the cushions together in a stack. I was doubtful at first because it didn't solve the problem of attaching them together in the floor layout. But then I figured out that adding buttons in the right place relative to the loops would make it possible to secure all three configurations. Which I'll demonstrate at the end of the post!

So the first step was cutting the big cushion down into four equal pieces. Well, the first-first step was trimming it down to clean up the section that was destroyed by my rabbit, who liked to burrow against the cushion and somehow managed to shred the foam *through* the cover.

I cut the foam with a hand saw, which was quite easy and satisfying.

Then making the cushion covers. I made strips of straight-cut binding and tucked loops into the corners while I sewed together the side pieces of the cover.

I decided to add piping to the top for aesthetics and structure. I've never done piping before but it wasn't too bad to get the hang of.

Because I dislike both zips and buttons (not specifically sewing with them, but just generally coming into contact with them in life) I decided not to bother making any closure on the underside of the cushions. Instead I just made the bottom piece of the cover in two triangles with a diagonal opening across the middle. A bit of strategic reinforcement stitching at the corners got the balance between making it possible to insert the cushions without the flaps flapping around too much.

Now for the details of the loop/button system. Each loop is positioned halfway up the height of the cover, at the corner. Each cover has two loops, at diagonally opposite corners. The loops extend 10cm, which is the exact thickness of the cushion foam.

Exactly 10cm to the right of each loop, I sewed on a big wooden button, also halfway up the height of the cushion.

For separate cushions mode, each loop is simply wrapped over its own neighbouring button to keep it from waving around or catching on things.

For big floor cushion mode, the cushions are butted together with their loop-corners touching each other around the perimeter of the square.

At each connection point, the loops from *both* cushions are wrapped around the button exposed on the perimeter. This holds all of the cushions together around the outside, and friction keeps them from slipping around in the middle.

For footrest mode, the loops are chained up through each other - the bottom cushion's loop is wrapped around the second cushion's loop, which wraps around the third cushion's loop, which wraps around the top loop.

Then, the top loop wraps around its own button to secure the chain.

Version 1

Version 2

Paper: Fabriano Artistico 100% cotton/ 300 GSM/ cold press

Brushes: Da Vinci Petit Gris Pur mop/ Princeton Neptune rounds/ Princeton Aqua Elite 12

And then she has dinner and it’s the best thing she’s ever eaten and even her little green brain is able to put together “If I knife this guy so I can take his stuff he can’t cook more of this” so when he asks her to stay the night she’s just like “Fuck yeah breakfast”.

And all the other Hobbits in the area are staring at this new arrival who starts begrudgingly working in the garden (she can pull out the weeds they’d normally have to hitch livestock to) and they’re all thinking “Uhhhhh that’s a fucking Goblin there, chief” except if they actually acknowledge that she’s a goblin then it’s a huge to-do and a lot of excitement and possibly there would be adventure involved in chasing her off. So they just sort of silently, collectively decide they’re going to ignore it and all go “Oh, Blinko finally found himself a lady, how nice, she must be one of the Glumbrushes from over the far side of West Farthing, I always did hear they were on the homely side, not much hair on their feet you know.”

And eventually in due time along comes Korbo Tumbrush and decently cute Hobbit baby but the biggest fucking ears you ever saw on a Hobbit and he’s a bit green and everyone is thinking “That’s a fucking half-Goblin you’ve got there, chief, you fucked a fucking Goblin, you made a baby with a damn Goblin my guy” but this would be an immensely rude thing to say to someone so they’re just like “Oh how nice, Blinko, he looks just like you, has those Glumbrush eyes though.”

Does Korbo know!? Like is the Gobit aware his momma is a goblin? Or does he just grow up like

“yup us Glumbrushes sure do look different”

He leaves home on an adventure and stumbles n a hoard of goblins marches right up like

Once.

The Tumbrushes are, as a family trade, purveyors of fine pieces of wood. Not of large amounts of lumber, for which Hobbits don’t have a particular lot of call save occasionally, but rather of particularly nice pieces suitable for the making of fine window trimmings, floors, or the occasional carved bit of artwork to be given at a fancy event. Obviously for this one doesn’t go cutting down any tree willy-nilly, and Korbo had spent most of the day out and about looking for suitable trees.

(Korbo also personally assisted in cutting them down, being rather well known as on the strong side for a Hobbit, wink wink, nudge nudge.)

Having put in a genuine hard day’s work and rather pleased with himself, Korbo retired to the local bar to have a few beers and a smoke and to partake in good company, all of whom had gotten so used to pretending there was nothing odd about him that it was almost as if there was genuinely nothing odd about him.

Until along comes Humdil Thumbletoe.

Now the Thumbletoes were what was known in the Shire as “experts on genealogy”. This might sound like quite a good thing when you consider how well-versed most Hobbits are in their family lines, until you consider that most Hobbits are already well-versed in their family lines. A Hobbit being thoroughly knowledgeable of their family tree is not much to be remarked upon, so when it is remarked upon it is more to mean that the Hobbits in question are such tremendous mooches that they have had to dive far more deeply into their bloodlines looking for more relatives to leech off of than any Hobbit would generally consider polite.

Humdil was fairly brawny as Hobbits go, which was about all you could say for him. In fact Humdil had realized that was really all that could be said for him and had become a bit of a bully. And so it was he entered the bar that night with a very put-upon third cousin twice removed (by marriage) and caught sight of Korbo for the first time.

“Why, look at that one!” he bellowed, guffawing. “He’s so ugly his mother had to have been a Goblin, ey!”

The whole bar goes quiet. Aside from the obvious abominable rudeness of this, Humdil has said the thing that is never supposed to be said, and is clearly too stupid to realize he’s right. All heads slowly turn to Korbo.

Now, it is well known that Korbo has inherited his father’s tendency to never give a single solitary hairy-toed fuck about anything. He has currently been in the running to be at least the second most chill dude to ever be born in the Shire. And indeed, right now he’s still looking perfectly calm, puffing on his pipe. He sets the pipe aside, finishes off the last of his beer, and stands up.

“Sir, we’ll be needing to step outside.”

Now Hobbits are mostly a peaceable lot, not given to wars or fighting for any old thing, but a bit of fisticuffs outside the bar is hardly unheard of. Mostly everyone is kind of nervous about this because they’re still not sure how Korbo is reacting to this whole Goblin thing. So someone takes Korbo’s jacket and Humdil’s third cousin twice removed (by marriage) grudgingly takes his, and the two square off.

Now, Humdil was a big Hobbit, it was true, but there were a few things that, being a moron who didn’t realize he was right, and who had never been outside the Shire or seen a Goblin anyway, he could not possibly know.

For one, Goblins have long, spindly arms, giving them a surprisingly good reach for their size… not abominably long, certainly not in the case of a half-Goblin, and certainly not above being concealed by the cut of a well-tailored shirt. Second, they are compact, wiry creatures, with dense muscle over their otherwise lanky forms, and given to that a Hobbit’s already greater mass and the anchoring benefit of large, wide feet, well.

The moment Humdil stepped forward and started to swing, Korbo’s fist shot out like one of Gandalf’s better rockets and struck him directly in the nose. His flight was also, for some weeks after, compared to one of Gandalf’s rockets, though not quite as far and the explosion at the end was mostly him laying on the ground cursing wetly due to all the blood streaming from his nose.

Korbo apologizes profusely to all and sundry for the disturbance, collected his jacket, and goes home. Honey is out picking mushrooms (still being of the more nocturnal persuasion after all these years), but Blinko’s sitting by the fire reading a book. Korbo sees that there’s a newspaper (full of lots of extremely important things like how the pipeweed was growing and which barrels of beer were going to be uncasked that month), so picks it up and sits down to read.

“Evening, Da.”

“Evening, son. Pleasant evening out?”

“Oh, fine. Save for I broke Humdil Thumbletoes’s nose for him.”

“Hm, hm, I see. Why did you feel the need to do that?”

“Well, he called Ma a Goblin, you see.”

Blinko slowly lowers his book, and slowly raises his head. Looks at Korbo for long moments. Raises one eyebrow a little.

“Son. You know full well your mother is a Goblin.”

“Well, yes, but he didn’t know that, and he said it as an insult anyway so it being true or not doesn’t really matter that much, does it?“

“Hm, hm. I suppose that’s true at the end of the day, isn’t it?”

Blinko goes back to reading his book. Korbo continues reading the paper.

“You could have stabbed him,” Blinko eventually notes.

“Aye, could have stabbed him,” Korbo agrees easily enough. “But it’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”

“True, true, probably would have been a bit of a mess in the road, not very thoughtful to the community,” Blinko allows.

“Sir, we’ll be needing to step outside.”

But he runs into Hilda Greebrook one day in town, and she’s lost her favorite pipe, which is of course a tragedy of the highest order. It’s not unheard of for a lady to smoke, but it isn’t particularly encouraged, either, and so the general reaction is “you poor dear, perhaps it’ll turn up, hadn’t you best be getting home for luncheon?”

Korbo, however, stops to help her look for the pipe, and when it’s nowhere to be found he offers to make her another just like it, if she can tell him what precisely made it so special that it was a favorite, for after all a favorite must be distinguishable by something.

Unfortunately the thing that distinguishes it is that she got it from Gandalf and it’s quite unlike most pipes in the Shire, so recreating it is quite the task. But Korbo sets himself to it anyway, working a bit each night and handing it to Hilda daily to see if it feels quite right, and six months later he’s done it—recreated a pipe that came from the world of men, or perhaps elves, but certainly not that of hobbits.

Hilda for her part discovers Korbo quite likes to read, and though he’s from a reasonably well-to-do family—for hobbits are always in need of new toys and fancy party decorations after all—can’t get his hands on books fast enough to satisfy himself, and, well, her da’s a transcriber, someone’s got to write out the papers after all, and she’s got access to practically every book in the Shire, and ways to make copies besides.

At first people think it’s odd, a hobbit who can’t see asking to borrow books, but then they find out Korbo is involved and asking questions could lead to excitement and so they absolutely do not ask and simply offer up their histories and books of poetry and hobbit folklore (for even without want for excitement there are things it’s good to remember, and things every hobbit child should know so they, too, can grow up properly plump and staying well away from adventure), and resign themselves to never seeing their books again.

And then they find that far from their books quite disappearing, they return in fine form—albeit usually in a timeframe rather too long to be polite—but oddly quite a lot seem to have tiny bits of wood shavings in, although one wouldn’t expect it in a hobbit home? And THEN Hoptus Redbranch finds Korbo one day in his workshop, he’s just stopped by for the wood to repair a door after an unfortunate incident with attempting to remove a colony of bees and rather too much smoke for the moving of bees, and Korbo is simply. Pressing small pieces of hot iron into a very thin piece of wood, making small triangle patterns like no hobbit decoration Hoptus has ever seen, and he’s quite frequently checking into a book on his left that turns out to be one of Hoptus’ own books, and very carefully turning the pages with a cloth so as to not get oil from the hot iron all over the pages—

—and THEN, not long after the news of Korbo’s strange woodburning activities have spread across most of the Shire (and caused no small amount of consternation, because goblins are clever but so often the things they make are cruel and the cause of ever so much unpleasantness), Hilda is seen in her own garden with Korbo with a stack of these thin pieces of wood all carefully hinged together, running her fingers over carefully sanded and varnished pieces and feeling the triangles and reciting a hobbit tale.

For all those months of strangely disappeared books, Korbo has been translating Westron into an alphabet that can be read with one’s fingers, and making Hilda books, and teaching her to read them.

Were anyone from the outside to visit the Shire, they’d find a small colony of goblins thoroughly intermarried and also avoiding the usual goblin tendencies towards stabbing, so long as no one is so gauche as to insult them for being goblins.

And yet there’s a difference between “well to do” and “scandalously wealthy.”

So when, when Blinko Tumbrush recieved a letter inviting them to the Baggins residence for tea, he of course brought his wife and son along.

Now, Korbo had crossed paths with Bilbo Baggins a time or two in the market, never for much longer than the time required for Polite Conversation, and so wasn’t expecting much. Sure, everyone knew Bilbo was odd, and were willing to talk about it, since Bilbo made no effort to hide his adventures and had, on numerous occasions, commented on visiting the elves or poking around the mountains, but they were in the Shire, no adventure in sight, and so this should be a normal, proper visit between client and craftsman.

And then Bilbo opened the door, pipe in hand, took the three of them in, and said, quite out of nowhere, “Ah, Shoebiter clan.”

Honey Tumbrush, late of the Shoebiter clan of the Misty Mountains, smiled with all her teeth and replied “Dragon thief!”

Bilbo guffawed and waved them inside, offering them hospitality in the goblin tongue, with the guarantee of safety and threat of violence that implied. They had arrived in time for second breakfast, and didn’t leave until past dinner, having hammered out a contract and shared many a story.

Erte, Alphabet U-Z

Look, look, I just feel the need to explain something here. This came out in ‘96 when I was a teen and already deeply into industrial and NIN in particular. This soundtrack was my bedrock. I’d never heard anything like it from a game and rarely have since. It left a deep, deep impression.

Then this comes along, and after listening to the first one you will understand why I lost my shit watching CA:TWS.

All in all, even when Civil War’s music was more theatrical, I think what has made great Captain America’s movies, especially TWS, is the fact that they treated them as films out of the superheroe box and more like a work with detail and intricacy that dramas and mistery films have, and the music has played such an important part. 

An iconic addition to someone like the Winter Soldier as a character, turned that industrial sound to something like an hymn. After seeing CW’s memories of his past and becoming accompanied with sounds of something to come, like a ticking bomb, now makes even more sense that in TWS he finally screamed.

that is deeply exciting information

Se7en (which was my favourite movie of all time until Snowpiercer happened) used the Precursor remix of “Closer” – not as obviously similar as the Quake theme and The Winter Soldier, but still with some interesting parallels between Closer’s guitar drive and TWS’s engine effect. That really does lend credence to the notion that Jackman drew inspiration directly from Reznor’s work for the Winter Soldier suite, if the Russos pointed him in that direction.

(Fun fact: Trent and Atticus Ross have scored three Fincher films: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo [they won a Grammy for this], The Social Network [and an Oscar for this!], and Gone Girl [Grammy-nominated]. :D)

Anyway I'm imagining him swimming to shore like a dolphin with his arms by his side and his feet together, leaping out of the water for air like