#Compost Awareness Week

[petula-xx]

International Compost Awareness week starts today!

Running from May 7-13 2023.  https://www.compostfoundation.org/ICAW/ICAW-Home

Hooray for compost!!!!!!

#compost #Compost Awareness Week #garden #gardeners on tumblr #organic food #eco system #nature #soil #plants #living earth

[friend-crow]

I think I've rambled about this a little bit before, but I really believe that if we were able to shift our standard burial practice to human composting and memorial tree planting, the impacts could be huge.

Imagine how much more people would care about trees if they were the grave markers of their loved ones (and unlike grave markers, actually grew from the remains of their family). Think of the legal protections people would place on ancestral forests. A lot of people would probably be more invested in learning about the biodiversity needed for a forest to thrive -- not like the bullshit "carbon offset" single species tree plantings used to alleviate consumer guilt.

Some people would probably be motivated to spend more time in and learning about forests. Others probably wouldn't really, but you'd better believe people would be up in arms if they heard that somebody wants to cut down grandpa's tree.

Something I've seen in recent years is that the increase in fires on the west coast has made the reality of climate change a lot more real for a lot of people here. Especially after the week in 2020 when Portland had the worst air quality in the world due to wildfire smoke, people could no longer think of it as something for future generations to deal with. It became clear that we were going to be living with this, effective immediately.

I'm not saying that having ancestral forests would suddenly stop forest fires, but it would be another thing to get more people invested in environmental protections and technology.

And yes, I am on some speculative fiction hippy shit, but dammit, ancestral forests would be cool. Don't you want to remember your loved ones by going and talking to a tree? Or a group of trees? Like yeah, they'd be less permanent than a stone monument, but once an ancestor's tree falls, it can become a nursery log for younger generations.

Don't you want to become part of the forest when you die??

*Disclaimer: idea presented primarily as an alternative to preserving corpses with toxic chemicals and burying them in expensive boxes as is common where I live, and not meant to replace all other cultural traditions related to death and burial. Please don't come at me for responding to the norms of my own culture, I am aware that other cultures exist.

#woke up and chose trees I guess

[cleanlenins]

Grifter Danny Fenton (inspired from the lovely minds of @lexosaurus and @five-rivers )

Little Weird child who scams you out of your money so he can buy Nasty Burger.

Dash always beats him up because Danny sold him and the rest of the football team on a scientifically fast way to bulk up fast. I mean, just look at Fenton's Dad. He's a brick house. He charged an arm and a leg for a few batches of his mom's fudge. It's just normal fudge.

Dash immediately goes to pulverize Danny in the first episode over the menu change because yeah, Fenton's gotta be pulling some kind of scam on the School Board with Manson to get us to eat MUD.

Wes tries to convince people he is Danny Phantom and Danny leans wholeheartedly into it. No one believes him because Danny Fenton is the guy that tricked everyone into drinking veggie broth for a week because he claimed it cleansed the ghosts from your bones.

Anytime Fenton does something strangely ghostly, the student body looks away like "Nope, not getting sucked into whatever stupid scam Fenton is pulling. I'm keeping my pocket money."

No one bats an eye at Fenton climbing out of a dumpster at 3am, well aware of the time he sold "compost" to the gardening club that was just trash from the back of the Nasty Burger.

Little Bastard Danny, yes!

#danny phantom #cartoons

[thatbadadvice]

Help! My Mother-In-Law Buys A New Outfit Every Time She Pours Jet Fuel on Chilean Sea Bass and Throws Their Carcasses, Flaming, Into the Rainforests from the Open Belly of Her Private Plane

Care and Feeding, Slate, 1 May 2023:

Dear Care and Feeding, My husband and I have two children (2 years and 6 months). We recently moved back to my husband’s hometown to pursue a career opportunity for me. My husband has been home with the kids but was just offered a job. We found a daycare, but it can only take the kids three days a week right now (we’re on waitlists for full-time, but it seems like it could be months or more before we find two full-time spots). My mother-in-law has generously offered to watch the kids for the other two days. Overall, she is a lovely, responsible woman, but we have some significant value differences around environmental issues and I’m not sure how to navigate them. Our household focuses heavily on environmental awareness. We drive electric cars, we compost, we limit our air conditioning, we limit our flying, we eat all leftovers, we avoid plastics whenever possible, and we buy exclusively secondhand clothing. My mother-in-law is a big fan of consumption. Her house is full of plastics. She throws away whatever is left on her plate at the end of a meal, she keeps her house so cold in the summer that I need a sweater and she drives a minivan. I’m concerned about the message it sends to the kids if we stick to our values, except when to do so would be inconvenient. How do I bridge our two very different lifestyles going forward? —Environmentalist Mama in Limbo

Dear Environmentalist Mama,

I'm not sure how you can describe a person who air-conditions her home and drives a minivan as "lovely" and "responsible" but I will assume that this planet-hating harpy has gripped you so tightly in her environmentally irresponsible talons that you cannot see the wildfire-ridden forest for the trees (which she is personally cutting down for fun and profit). Do not let yourself be hoodwinked by promises of familial love and generous offers of free child care, as if these things matter more than assiduously composting! This woman is a monster who is single-handedly destroying the only earth your precious babies have to live on. Imagine the tragedies that will unfold if your children experience a loving connection with a person who purchases items made of plastic? They could come to believe that other humans are whole people with their own interior lives and decision-making apparatuses and values instead of ugly nasty baddies who dare to oppose Mommy's One True And Only Way?

You simply cannot bridge two lifestyles as different as the two you describe here. On the one hand, we have your blameless and perfect eco-conscious little household of brave, Dumpster-diving Oliver Twists, and on the other hand, we have an ethically compromised, unscrupulous, indefensibly ignorant shitbird who probably barbecues her factory-farmed meats over asbestos tiles and flies to Australia to distribute the ashes over the Great Barrier Reef. If Planet Earth does not spin out into an apocalyptic ball of climate disaster by the time your children are old enough to be knifing their peers over tire fires for their share of rat rations, it will be because your uniquely virtuous family had the moral fortitude to drive an electric car and limit your flying. After all, electricity comes from magical climate-neutral fairies and the jet fuel industry is waiting with bated breath for the day that you ground your family and send an international behemoth into wholesale free-fall.

If there is one guaranteed way forward through the climate crisis, it is to silo ourselves into individual categories of "good people" who use paper straws (like you! you are so good!) and "amoral reprobates" (such as your mother-in-law, who sucks!) who do not. The very future of humanity depends on demonizing and shaming other people until they behave as we want them to, privileging individual actions over collective resistance to and accountability for the worst global offenders, and rejecting community-building opportunities in favor of being the only best good person ever.

Build no bridge with this woman! She would probably just drive over it with her minivan, and then the blood of billions will be on your hands.

#advice #bad advice #care and feeding #slate #environment #climate change #climate crisis #parenting #mothers-in-law #in-laws #family advice #paper straws #electric cars #great barrier reef #we're all fucked

[flowercrowngods]

sometimes i wonder if i’m really mentally ill. my food doesn’t go bad, and my dishes don’t sit around longer than three days before i get to them. i change my sheets on the first of every month and do my laundry once a week. i put it in the wardrobe after at least a day. i go to the store to buy groceries every week, then i make food and eat it and separate my waste — plastics, paper, compostable organics and non-compostable “other”. i separate recycling and glass bottles. i wipe my surfaces and vacuum my room, i make my bed every morning, i air out my room and i water my plants and watch them grow, smiling at each new leaf winning the battle against all circumstances that want to keep life on the down-low around me.

sometimes i wonder if i’m really mentally ill when i see people unable to get out of bed let alone make it, when i see piles of dishes and laundry around them, when i see media portrayals of illness as nothing short of a disability. sometimes i wonder if that’s why i don’t get help. when i get grades no lower than a B, when i go to work and seem to all of society like a functioning member, like another cog in the machine flying under the radar.

sometimes i wonder if maybe i should stop doing the dishes. sometimes i wonder if i should stop washing my clothes, if i should stop getting any grades at all, if i should stop going to work and not get out of bed. sometimes i wonder if that’s what it takes for anyone to see. to see that there’s no joy to be found within these walls. no point, no reason, no purpose. no ambition, no hopes, no dreams.

sometimes i wonder what it means to be mentally ill, because obviously i am not. i’m too self-aware, too functional, not doing badly enough. the air constructing in my lungs is not bad enough, the tremor in my hands thinking about tomorrow is not bad enough, the hopelessness residing in the centre of my being is not bad enough, the pointlessness of everything not strong enough, the thoughts of dying not secret enough.

because i do my dishes. i eat my food before it goes bad. i have fresh clothes each day. i go to uni, i go to work, i water my plants and watch them grow.

i am not mentally ill. you will not find me on the screen. you will only read about me in an obituary.

— thoughts of a crazy person

#blah #actually mentally ill #cw depression #not st

[paragonrobits]

thinking about doing an Adventure Time AU where instead of Fern splitting off from Finn, the difference is split by after the events of The Citadel and his dad callously leaving Finn to die, the mixture of potent magic, the life-imbuing properties of the liquids present at the Citadel, and Finn's mixture of overwhelming rage and distress mingle so that the remnants of his grass sword invade and fuse with the rest of his body, gradually mutating him into a being similar to what we canonically got with Fern; a shapeshifting plant-based being.

I came to this idea mulling over different AU ideas to mix things up, and I kept coming around to something based on Fern without specifically him being a separate entity from 'our' Finn; interesting weird powers and a very interesting set up for some potent characterization and nifty weird powers

but as I thought about it, I realized that this would also work well in a divergence point AU, and combined with elements of Finn briefly manifests telekinesis and an arm through sheer force of Fuck You Martin; the basic principle of that applies here, and might be how this Finn can... move. Or do anything at all.

Fern's issues of selfhood are still present, in the sense that while this IS Finn and he is intellectuallly aware of that, for angst reasons he is NOT adjusting well; the mental image I have is that weeks after his recovery, he hasn't been seen in public by anyone, even his closest friends, and the glimpses we get of what he's going through is a smashed mirror, fist-shaped holes in the wall made by SOMETHING lashing out in rage and horror, and ultimately culminating in this Finn actually being visible.

The idea I have is that while he can shapeshiftr as well as Fern does, his self image has taken a massive hit, and his primitive use of his newfound powers means he doesn't... look human at the moment. He looks like a shambling pile of composts, desperately trying to assume a humanoid form. The divergence points go from here, escalating and taking his character development in broadly a similar direction to canon but not after he's forced to grapple with his sense of idenity as Finn the human no longer being relevant. He's not human, any more. He doesn't know what he is.

the best visual I keep thinking of is Finn shambling in front of Bubblegum, pleading and screaming all at once, and the first proper visual we have is a pretty damn ugly Doom Patrol-esque one, culminating in him demanding to know what am I?!

In short, the selfish character spiral he had at the time for a few seasons comes to an extremely abrupt halt as his sense of self, identity and monstrosity all come crashing together in an unpleasant, vindictive spiral that again fixates on Martin.

All things considered, I'm actually thinking of setting this transformation earlier somehow, for further divergence; not sure how I can get the same feelings but it's definitely interesting to consider.

#adventure time #finn #ideas #finn mertens #queued

[thesparklingwriter]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒎 𝒂𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒅𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

~ “What do you take me for?” Kaeya gasps. “Some kind of masochist?”

tags: kaeya is very persistent, gn!reader, reader is not originally from Mondstadt and Kaeya is curious, kaeya watches reader from afar but somehow it isn’t creepy when he does it, there may be a part two idk

word count: 967 words

an: first time writing kaeya pls be nice!! he's probably ooc but i have another prompt i want to do with him so this is practice. non-Zhongli-related reqs are open btw :)

Masterlist | taglist form

You’re an oblivious little thing. Oblivious to the eyes that surround you as you parade yourself through Mondsadt. If anything, Kaeya thinks, you’re pretending to be so disinterested. Why else would someone like you, perfect in every way his mind could ever conjure, walk around with such a strong air of humbleness?

He watches you whenever he gets a break from his work, sees you tending to plants in the square and talking to people by the fountain. He notices how you never really get close to the Knights of Favonius' headquarters, yet the flowers how been blooming vibrantly lately. He’d like to point the finger at you and use it as an excuse to get you to talk to him, but he knows better than to accuse people without proof, so he decides to take a break from his pressing job as a cavalry captain and try being a detective for an evening. Around the time he usually leaves the office to head for home, he hovers around the grounds, watching for a sign of you walking around.

As is expected, he finds you crouched beside the flowerbed, spreading fresh compost into the pots. He can barely see you in the dim light of the moon, but of course, he knows you look as ethereal as you always do, in your ordinary clothes, and your glorious hair in an ordinary bun.

“Don’t you need light to do this kind of thing?” Kaeya chuckles, flicking his wrist and illuminating your surroundings with snowflakes.

“I’m used to working in the dark,” You reply simply. “But thank you for the offer.”

He’s confused as to why you’re giving him the cold shoulder. There’s the possibility that you’ve noticed him watching you, but if that was the case, why didn’t you ever bring it up to him?

“You are aware you can come in the day, correct? The last gardener we had—”

“I know. Personal preference.” You continue, picking up your watering can. It’s heavier than you remember it to be, and you find yourself tumbling to the ground. A cold hand grips yours before you fall, and you take the chance to look at the man who has been (not-so-subtly) watching you over the past few weeks. He’s pretty, that’s for sure. And persistent. Maybe a small part of you appreciates the fact that his eyes seem to only be for you. Mondstadt does not want for good-looking people, so to be the one he's chosen is a slight compliment, even for the disinterested.

“Have I done something to offend you?” Kaeya chuckles, carefully pulling you up to your feet. His words lack any of the humility they should possess, instead infused with a light aloofness.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Cavalry Captain.” You sigh. Usually, this kind of attention is unwanted, a sign that things are soon going to go south, that you’re going to get caught in some kind of trap by those who want to exploit you. So why do you crave it from him? Despite every attempt you’ve made to look ordinary and act ordinary, it seems that something about you always catches trouble’s eyes. Or eye, in this case.

“I apologise for anything I have done or will ever do.” He chuckles, and though it clearly lacks sincerity, you laugh.

“Thanks. Can I get back to my gardening now?”

Despite the fact the cold shoulder you’ve given him gets icier by the day, Kaeya prides himself on using his charm to change people’s opinions of him. So, over the next few weeks, he seeks you out in the evening, careful to leave before you ask him to so that you keep giving him a chance. And even you, for all your monosyllabic responses, begin to feel your opinion of him become more positive as the days go by.

“You’re late, Captain.” You mutter one day, as you see Kaeya’s distinctive shadow amble up to you. “And here I thought you were trying your hardest to make me like you.”

“Now when did I say that?” Kaeya chuckles, crouching beside you. An amused smile pops onto his face as you attempt to push him over. “You wound me with your murderous intent.” He cries dramatically.

“Get off it,” You huff, halfheartedly waving a trowel at him. “You’d be happy if I devoted you enough attention to wound you.”

“What do you take me for?” Kaeya gasps. “Some kind of masochist?”

“That’s exactly what I take you for.” You turn back to your work, putting your hand out for him to hand you the watering can. It feels colder than usual when he hands it to you, but who are you to complain? He always hands it to you carefully, only letting go when he knows you’ve had enough time to adjust to the weight. (Obviously, he covers this up by pretending he’s doing it to annoy you, but you catch on fast.)

“Well, you’re wrong.”

“Why else would you keep showing up here, even though I try my hardest to ignore you?”

Kaeya chuckles again, and the sound of it makes you smile—as much as you’d hate to admit it, he’s growing on you. Slowly but surely. “My supervisor once said I’m like a dog with a bone. I doubt she meant it in a particularly positive way, but I take it to mean that I'm persistent to a fault. Which, by my own admittance, is the only fault I have.”

“Aside from your habit of watching people?”

“Not 'people'...” Kaeya corrects you. His voice trails away as he pulls your hair out of its bun and runs a hand through it. You want to protest, but his cool hands against your scalp and his closeness convinces you otherwise. You like it when he does things like this, how he makes you feel like you’re the only person he’ll ever orbit.

“Not people,” he repeats, cupping your cheek in his hand. You lean into it with a slight smile, and the fact you're smiling like that, only for him, makes Kaeya grin smugly. “Just you.”

an kaeya turned the water in the watering can into ice cubes by the way. general menace activity that he covers up by being charming

#kaeya alberich #genshin impact kaeya #kaeyagenshinimpact #kaeya fluff #kaeya x you #kaeya x reader #kaeya fanfic #genshin impact fan fiction #fanfiction

[prismartist]

A Stew and Dance

part 4 of To break bread, the series about soulbounds and food.

Ao3

–––

“Me-nu-do.” Jimmy pronounces each syllable carefully. “Is that like, Italian?”

“Spanish, actually. Well, the actual dish is from the Philippines. It’s a tomato stew, kinda. It’s got potatoes and carrots and pork.”

“Oh my gosh, thank goodness, I was starting to get sick of beef.” Jimmy turns to pat one of the cattle. “No offence.”

Tango grins. “I don’t think they’ll be offended that you’re not eating them, Jimmy.”

Jimmy laughs. “True, true.” 

The noontime light streams through the windows, washing everything in a comforting golden warmth. Jimmy softens as he watches Tango, who hums as he drops pork into a pot of water, covering it afterwards and leaving it to boil on the furnace. He then takes the garlic and crushes it, peeling the broken skin off and depositing it in their compost bin—a leather bag—before chopping the cloves. The rhythmic sound is satisfying as Tango expertly and quickly minces them up, and Jimmy can’t help but admire how easily he seems to do it.

The whole atmosphere is… nice, really. It's the most relaxed Jimmy's felt in the two weeks he's been here. It's definitely a nice change of pace from the… well, the arson. But it seems Scar's had his satisfaction for now, so he and most of the server are dormant or too caught up in their own petty squabbles. Jimmy's sure the time will come when chaos will break out again, but for now, it's him and Tango, peacefully cooking menudo. It’s very nice. He definitely knows that Tango needs the peace.

…wait he should probably help Tango shouldn't he.

Pushing himself off the fence, Jimmy sheepishly walks up to his soulmate, and asks, “Hey, can I help?”

Tango turns to him, wide-eyed. “Oh! Oh yeah sure, uhh here.” He grabs an extra knife and hands it to Jimmy, who barely stifles a squeak upon seeing the sharp blade come at him. Tango notices, and tilts his head in amusement. “Don’t tell me you’re not used to chopping food,” he teases.

“N-no, I’m plenty familiar with it. I’m also just…” Jimmy gingerly takes the knife, “...very careful.”

Tango chuckles and turns back to the garlic. “Fair, fair. You can chop the onions.”

“Oh… okay.” Jimmy adjusts to the knife’s weight, then takes an onion. He peels it, cuts it in half, and starts to chop. 

The sting comes soon enough. 

“Ohhh, no,” he mutters as his vision goes blurry with involuntary tears. He tries to fight through, using what remains of his vision to keep chopping, but it feels like his eyeballs are on fire.

“Jimmy?” The warble in Tango’s voice makes it clear that he’s also feeling it. “Don’t tell me you did what you just did?”

“I’m sorry, I just-” Jimmy carefully puts down the knife and raises a hand to wipe his eyes.

“NOOO!” Tango grabs Jimmy by the wrist and drags him over to the sink. “Wash your hands first, then wash your eyes! You’ll get more onion in them if you do that.”

“Auuuouuughhhh,” replies Jimmy, who at this point can’t see a single thing. His head starts throbbing from the dehydration and how hard he’s shutting his eyes.

Jimmy washes off all the remaining residue on his hands, and Tango takes it upon himself to wash his eyes. He slowly waits for his vision to return and the pain to fade. 

Tango sighs. “I’ll do the onions, okay? You can do the carrots.”

As the wooden walls and Jimmy’s tired reflection in the water comes back into view, he sighs. “Yeah, maybe that’s fair.”

Tango explains later that the trick is to cut the onion in half, and then place the inside part facing down, so the fumes don’t waft up. Jimmy swears, swears, that he did do that, and Tango just smiles and says he believes him. 

So the onions are chopped, placed on a plate well away from Jimmy, along with the garlic. Tango busies himself with the potatoes, Jimmy the carrots. He carefully peels and dices them according to Tango’s instruction. He looks over to the pot, where the water has been boiling for a good couple of minutes; Jimmy’s aware because he’s right next to it, and has been uncomfortably feeling the steam slowly warm the right side of his face. He notes that the pork has greyed considerably. He informs Tango, who goes to drain the pot and transfer the pork to a bowl. He tells Jimmy to stir the garlic, onions, and tomato sauce in the now-empty pot, and Jimmy does so. Soon the fragrant scent fills the room, thankfully overpowering the smell of the cows. However Jimmy’s arm is starting to get a bit weary, and though the task is nice, it’s still mundane enough for his mind to start drifting. 

It drifts to a song, a jaunty pop tune, which starts looping. Absetmindendly, Jimmy starts humming it, then, quietly, sings the first lyrics.

“Heeeyy,” he sings in falsetto, “Hey, baby. Ooh, ah.” He smiles. “I wanna know…”

“If you’ll be my girl.”

Jimmy whips his head to look at Tango, who stares back with a wide grin. “‘Hey Baby’, right?”

“I- uh, yeah!” Jimmy grins back. “You know it?”

“Of course I do.” Tango takes a breath, and continues as he scoops up the diced pork and deposits the pieces in the pot, “Hey, hey baby!”

“Ooh! Ah! I wanna-”

“Hold on, hold on, what’s that part?”

“What?” 

“The ‘ooh, ah’ thing, what is that?”

Jimmy pauses his stirring to give a puzzled look. “It’s part of the song.”

“Not in the version I remember. Also, don’t let the pork burn, it’ll stick to the pan.”

“Oh right, sorry.” Jimmy resumes stirring. “It’s in the DJ Otzi song! Don’t you know it?”

“DJ who?” 

Jimmy gapes. “The guy who- wait, how’d you know the song, then?”

“Bruce Channel? The guy who first sang it in the sixties?”

“It’s from the sixties??”

Tango looks beyond aghast. He turns away, to the bowl of pre-prepared water, waving a hand. “Just- stir the pork, I need to process this.”

“You don’t mean that,” Jimmy says, indignant.

“How do you not know it’s by Bruce Channel, it’s a classic!”

“Surely I’m not at fault for this!”

Tango simply pours in the water in silence, and Jimmy sighs.

After a short amount of time has passed, with Jimmy stirring and Tango putting in seasoning and the rest of the vegetables, Jimmy smirks.

“Ooh.” He giggles with a shit-eating grin, and Tango groans, though a smile starts to form on his face. Jimmy barks out a full laugh and continues, “Ah!”

“I don’t even know why you’d include tha-”

“I wanna know!” Jimmy continues singing at full volume, throwing a hand into the air. “If you’d be my girl!”

Tango finally drops the act and beams, singing back, “When I saw you walking down the street.” He starts to bop his head, just slightly. “I said, that’s the kind of gal I’d like to meet!”

“She’s so pretty, lord, she’s fine—” Jimmy yanks the ladle out of the stew and puts it near his mouth, making Tango shriek at the splatter, “—sorry! I’m gonna make her-”

They sing together: “Mine all mine!”

Jimmy starts to step back, shimmying a bit as he does, and Tango follows with eagerness as they sing, “Hey, hey baby!”

“Ooh, ah!” Jimmy can’t help but keep in, giggling at Tango’s exasperation.

“I wanna know, if you’ll be my girl.”

Jimmy reaches out his free hand, and Tango takes it. “Hey, hey baby!” he starts again. They guide each other in an impromptu freestyle, something vaguely reminiscent of a boogey. “I wanna know, if you’ll be my girl.”

“Pretty sure there’s supposed to be just one chorus there?” Tango asks.

“Is there? I dunno, just go with it.” He holds the ladle closer to his face again. “When you turned and walked away, that's when I wanna say-” he moves the ladle to Tango, who smiles wider at the prompt.

“Come on, baby, give me a whirl.” He leans closer to the “microphone” as he sings louder, “I wanna know if you'll be my girl! Hey-”

“No, it goes ‘I wanna know, I wanna know’-”

“It does not!”

“Yes it does!” As a distraction technique, Jimmy throws Tango into a twirl, and Tango yelps with surprise while Jimmy quickly moves into the next part. “When you turned and walked away, that’s when I wanna say, come on baby-” He moves closer to the now-exasperated Tango, crouching a bit so he’s just under eye level, swinging his shoulders to the beat as he looks up at his partner. Tango smiles as he does so. “Give me a whirl!” He moves the ladle between them, and Tango jumps back in.

“I wanna know if you’ll be my girl!”

Tango drags Jimmy in closer, catching him off-guard, but he quickly adjusts, their position now more reminiscent of a traditional partner dance. Jimmy still holds up the ladle, however awkward. They step and sway to the tempo with unfaltering energy. “Hey, hey baby!” 

“Ooh, ah!” Tango adds, and Jimmy gasps. 

“You said the ooh ah!”

“Sure did!”

Together again: “I wanna know, if you’ll be my girl.” 

As revenge, Tango twirls Jimmy, who only shouts “Hey!” and laughs. 

“Hey, hey baby! Ooh, ah, I wanna know, if you’ll be my girl!”

They continue singing the chorus for a while, both forgetting how many times it’s repeated, as they dance together around the room with wide grins, throwing each other into a twirl everyone once in a while. At one point, Jimmy dips Tango, who squeaks in delight. 

(He asks Jimmy how he learned to do it; Jimmy can’t remember, but he remembers flowers.)

It’s a bright scene, golden light streaming over the boys as they sing until their throat becomes sore, and the delicious smell of menudo growing ever stronger. 

Hold on.

“The menudo!” Jimmy exclaims, and Tango only yells as they both scramble over to the pot. Jimmy quickly dips the ladle back in and stirs, marvelling at the rich red colour it’s accumulated. He feels his heart sink a bit upon seeing that the stew at the bottom had stuck slightly and turned a darker colour, but upon scraping it off easily, it seems fine. 

“Is it good?” Tango asks. “Quick, taste it.”

Jimmy does, blowing a bit on it before taking a sip. It was still a bit watery, but Jimmy hums pleasantly at the flavour, the pork clearly having been assimilated into the tomato sauce. He scoops up a piece of pork as well and tries it. The fat easily shreds and melts on his tongue. “It’s good!” he reports with delight, and Tango makes a relieved sound. “It’s on its way, dude. Here, try.”

Tango hums too upon tasting. “Oooh, dude that’s great!” He grins wide, his eyes glimmering. “I’ll add a bit more salt and pepper, but hey, that’s not bad!”

Jimmy nods, taking back the ladle and continuing to stir. He takes the moment to calm his breath—he hadn’t realised how much the spontaneous dancing had taken out of him. Tango watches serenely as he starts to put away the knives and plates for later cleaning. While he does so, he hums.

“Hey, hey baby. Ooh, ah.”“I wanna know,” they sing together, quietly in the afternoon warmth, and harmonies wafting with the menudo’s scent, “if you’ll be my girl.”

#double life smp #dlsmp #tangotek #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #rancherduo #rancher duo #mcyt #double life fanfiction #dolesmp #prismatic writing

[quill-of-thoth]

The Years When I Wrote Stuff

So it’s the wake of the year 2022 and as of two months from now it will be two years since I spent a significant amount of time writing anything. I watched The Glass Onion last night and I want to write a mystery so badly that my stomach hurts, but also I want to go home and time travel is not an option. Feel free to skip the introspection but I miss Livejournal, and I thought other people also waiting for a dead year to be buried who have also tried to make stuff during the last eternity might find this a little cathartic.

I spent my morning rereading some stuff I previously wrote, back in college, approximately a decade ago, and it’s... good? In ways that I didn’t expect, given a whole host of personal factors like ten years experience, the fact that some of what I wrote then was fanfic for a very small and insular writing and reading community and not actually fanfic of a property that exists*, and that what I remember as communitywide engagement is an average of five unique commenters per chapter. (*People who never lived on Live Journal: there were several of these sorts of emergent meta fandoms, long before Goncharov. I was in a handful of them. One of them was the Sims 2 legacy challenge community, where there is no canon, everyone is trying to win points on a spreadsheet while playing a completely different game, and people just straight up borrowed each other’s characters to write combination screenshot and text stories about. It was considered flattery to do it if you could write your way out of a paper bag. Or if your forum threads / livejournal entries got enough engagement to be equal to or more ‘popular’ than the original author. Other metafandoms involved sporking [critical reading of another work with jokes worked in], and meta-fanfic like protectors of the plot continuum.) So, what did I have in twenty mumbleteen that let me write, and do it pretty well for my level of skill at the time? 

I was not less depressed: the year that I wrote 48k of cathartic mystery investigation that I still like was not a good one, personally, and the year before it was definitely top three worst. I also wasn’t just astronomically talented at the time: I was concurrently writing a non-fanfic attempt at a novel that has fully earned its position in the mental compost bin. (The physical location is somewhere in a folder within a folder on a thumb drive, probably labeled “junk” and “old junk” respectively.) 

I was not less busy: on top of classes I was writing a thesis that was so bad, the singular time any other living human mentioned they’d read it after I graduated, I blurted out “Oh god WHY?” (I got that job anyway.) In contrast since the beginning of the pandemic I have been unemployed off and on and not exactly super busy otherwise. I may have been doing a less overwhelming amount of the work of living, since I was living in dorms at the time, but... (checks my apartment) I think I’d better not investigate how much work of living is technically getting done around here.  I honestly think the major difference has been community. Don’t get me wrong, I like tumblr. I like twitter too. There is not a lack of people joyfully engaged in making stuff and talking to each other about it on either platform. We are (probably, at least in my case) a little cooler about it too: twitter’s villain of the week and the eternal problem of internet harassment aside, the dominance of short form and mostly public posting has made a lot more people than I remember aware that joining secret locked fandom groups devoted to hating specific members of your community is a bad thing and not a badge of acceptance into the Big Name Fan inner circle. Also, the first time Diane Duane turned up to my livejournal I acted like an embarrassingly star-struck teenager. Given that I was an embarrassingly star-struck teenager and have since managed to have actual conversations with published authors, I think I may have matured some. But with shorter, faster posts, and an internet economy that is increasingly about advertising, and single streams of information, we’ve definitely lost an aspect of the previous writing and fannish community. Not just the ability to off topic chat in a forum or a comments section with days or weeks between replies instead of wading through the discord, or community reading lists instead of reblogs and quote tweets, or spending hours uploading photos and gifs to new third party hosting sites and re-linking them every time free hosting got discontinued. From my perspective here on Tumblr we seem to have lost a huge amount of support for each other’s projects. Let me explain: back in the days of Livejournal there was fandom, meta fandoms, and original work. The three nations lived in harmony until - okay, technically they weren’t three nations, because we were a bunch of individual people doing a bunch of different things and even if you didn’t tag for shit, if you stuck around and commented enough you met other people. You would get invested in one of their projects, or they would get invested in yours. Most importantly, you would talk about things in the comments section. If you went looking for book reviews you would go to the comments for more recommendations. You’d also get arguments between people you’d never met, essays written by someone who appeared to be commenting on the mirrorverse version of the post you’d just read, and a decent number of bots. But you would be at the party talking about your favorite movies, the novel you were writing, and your thesis in the corners with photos of someone’s cat, instead of shouting across the width of the internet. You can still DM people, yes I know. You can still, if you’re too experienced to be embarrassed by being perceived like @seeingteacupsindragons and I, have a loud personal conversation in public via reblogs and tagging other people. It can even be a relatively private conversation if you’re deep enough into twitter replies or you’re only notable to a few dozen or few hundred people who only follow you in case you have more confessions to make about your former feral gremlin exploits back in the years when you wrote things. I can’t imagine writing the usual fandom disclaimer of “don’t own: don’t like don’t read” the way I used to during a spork or analysis. I legitimately once advertised the story that kicked off this round of introspection with “I obviously don’t own [book series we were dissecting to see why we hated it] because if I did you guys wouldn’t love me anymore.” Not just because it’s assuming my audience has strong feelings about me (easy to assume when there are seven of them and they loyally keysmash every chapter,) but because the firehose of social media feels very impersonal. Not on a caring about other people personally level, but on a level where, outside of fandoms, which aren’t built as sturdily as they used to be, it seems a little absurd to assume people care about your ongoing projects.  I’m not saying prior fandom iterations were better. Fandom problems and blog and social media problems have always been the same community building problems dressed up in different posting limits. Human nature has always been that of miscommunication, self interest, and sarcastic asides no matter how low you can sink the stakes. People have always struggled to organize community in the face of corporate censorship, societal bigotry, and Russian government takedown bots.** I’m saying that the things that used to go hand in hand with fandom, like your own oc’s and the ability to spend six months in a fandom and come out with a writing group passionately keysmashing over each other’s original characters and original stories are much, much harder to find than they used to be.  (**The bots are not always russian but false DMCA reports and the other apparatus of modern internet bot problems is not by any means new. And the eventual deathblow of Livejournal was struck by Russia. For more information I’m afraid you’ll have to google it all, due to me failing to locate any of the tumblr posts that filled me in on specifics long after the fact, on the very same day I successfully found my old Livejournal story I had forgotten the time of via a string of related tags. Irony, it turns out, cannot die.) AO3 and tumblr have kept fandom going, arguably stronger than ever, and it’s not like metafandom has died, given that it hasn’t even been two months since a critical mass of tumblr users decided to collaboratively write a summary of a movie based on a pair of bootleg shoes. I’m almost guaranteed to get more “interaction” with this post than my average original story in livejournal days.  But goddamn it, I miss the comments section. I miss replying to people demanding to know what was coming next with cutesy replies like “well you see, next chapter, [redacted] will [spoiler].” I miss having to break five thousand word conversations into multiple comments and the accompanying ability to trade theories and refute assumptions point by point without either flooding the dash or having to shove it all behind a readmore. (I miss customizeable readmores and the ability to put up a summary to click on or make a cryptic comment about the plot. Upon reflection, I don’t miss breaking up comments, I miss having collapsible threads to discuss specific points of speculation.) Most of all, I miss the semi-private space where people overwhelmingly were not shy about saying “hey, this reminds me of some things in my original story, you want to read some?” and where the link you received when you said yes ended either with you giving out a polite comment about the similarity to the original conversation and ‘I might not keep up with it, but good luck!’ or falling madly in love with someone else’s blorbo. I’ve tried to recapture the magic here and elsewhere, but as lovely as most people in writeblr are there is just so much advertising that it hasn’t worked for me, as a vehicle of actually talking to people about writing. Without a word written of the actual story there’s a moodboard and a playlist and a near-constant feeling of talking to yourself in front of a microphone. We all might want to publish this some day: have two paragraphs and an entire tag of endlessly recycled promotional material about the aesthetic. Everything is a pitch contest and the rules of engagement are written down in a completely different post: above all else act professional. Well, professional enough. You can be a clown and you can be a jerk but you cannot just hang out and expect that everyone will get their own turn to talk about their OC’s, regardless of whether you’re seriously hoping to publish or not. I’d love to talk about the process and art of writing again with people I only sort of know, instead of only doing it in DM’s with my oldest friends. I’d love to drag my OC’s out of the metaphorical compost bin and tell you that I don’t currently have a WIP that is anything like ready for public consumption, much less publication, but that if you watched Glass Onion last night and cried over the idea that you can’t have justice for the ones you love and you can’t bring them back but you can damn well be sure their work was not in vain, you’d love them. They’re my children and they’re my self, they live in my brain and they’re in love and better yet they’re best friends who will never, ever loose each other. Whether that’s to the slow diaspora of having to move across the country to make a living or finding that a dumbass billionaire pulled the plug on the liminal space where they gather. They’re part of a family of orphans and outcasts and they’re the spiritual descendants of a lot of people who taught me a lot about community. They know way more than me about how to help the friends who are suffering yet another pointless accident and wring some kind of catharsis out of a world that has not stopped ending in a thousand different ways since before any of us were born, and it’s only partly because one of them can literally do magic. Mostly it’s because when you write for five people who all hated the idea that resistance to the cruelties of the world is pointless even in fiction the exact same way you can actually give them a single webpage where justice exists, the people who are supposed to keep people safe care more about that than maintaining their structural power, and rich assholes who ruin people’s lives are the ones who go to jail. Now if only my perfect, (but not too perfect) darling, useless daughters would bring me a plot so I could actually use the sadness and anger for something. Even if no one ever reads it.

#longpost #on writing #also on fandom #and writing community #and dead websites #Not actually about The Glass Onion #except in that if you like gay detectives #who hate rich assholes and have decided that not following a social script is a perk of the job #I may have a thing for you to read sometime between tomorrow and the heat death of the universe #depending of course on if the publishing industry survives and if I ever intend to make these blorbos make some money #et cetera #paging the department of nostalgia again

[meisters-kleiner-fuchs]

HOT DAYS AND PETRE (sorry, I’m in the Southern Hemisphere)

It’s currently 36 degrees Celsius.

I haven’t left the house for a day or two and master is currently away. He won’t be back for a week or two and I’ve done my best to organise a sort of den on his bed (shh he doesn’t know - there is the pillows everywhere 😶).

So, I did go shopping the other day for some food and stumbled across these neat little teething items for pets which were in bone shapes and other pet related shapes. You fill them with water and then place them in your freezer and allow your pet to chew on them. They’re good for teeth as well for non human pets but I think they could be used in a petre setting.

It’s got me thinking about a pet regression day for summer.

1) Be aware that you will need to put sun cream on your pet and appropriate clothing for outside (I’m not ok with public petre- so the garden is best for this… unless you have permission for public play- personally, being a solitary creature: it’s a no from me).

2) always make sure your garden or space is safe. Appropriate paw pads and knee protection always - you never know what is in the grass. There could be insects that bite, wasps, bees, broken glass etc etc. this is also a massive safety precaution when your partner has negative reactions to bees and wasp stings.

3) water play- this could be interesting. You can set up a kids pool for your little in the yard. Use the hose and let them chase the water. Fill the pool with waterproof toys. Waterproof nylon collars- a must.

4) have a resting space like a picnic blanket. This should be sun shaded. I’ve had second degree burns from sun burn - it ain’t pleasant. You can have pillows inside but remember to put a towel inside if you will be using the kids pool.

5) frozen treats! Frozen blueberries in yoghurt and other fruits. Cold sandwiches with cold meats. The fun healthy stuff for your pet!

6) bring a bag of gummy bears and train your pet to wait by placing the gummy bear on their nose.

7) a beach day could be fun- if you are lucky enough to be solitary on them. Play retrieval games and dig in the sand. Let your pet chase seagulls and run from the waves.

8) dig holes in sand pits or in garden beds- although you might get scolded by your CG

9) if you have other friends who do petre, invite them! Chase a ball! Play music to cover up the yipping and yapping noises if needed.

10) if it’s your thing… roll in the grass!

Space rules:

1) don’t allow your pet to relieve themselves in the play area. If they do, they get time out. Get them to notify you with a signal if they need toilet time. Leg cocking can act as the signal. You can either a) stop petre for a toilet break or b) take them to another spot in the yard (if you allow this).

2) no digging up pot plants and stay away from the compost bin.

3) sun cream as per the directions on the bottle.

4) keep an eye out for sun stroke or heat exhaustion. You both need to be kept safe. Plenty of water and shade.

5) wildlife may be present so be careful. Keep an eye out for snakes etc. make sure your grass is cut low for this reason. Rushing your friend or lover to the hospital would not make a good day of summer petre.

[faewitchsherbs]

𝕬𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖊/𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗 𝕬𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖊

𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖔𝖓/𝖋𝖔𝖑𝖐 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊(𝖘): Anise, Star Anise, Chinese Anise 𝕭𝖎𝖓𝖔𝖒𝖎𝖆𝖑 𝖓𝖆𝖒𝖊(𝖘): Illicium verum 𝕱𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖞: Schisandraceae~ Magnolia vine, Kadsura

𝕸𝖊𝖉𝖎𝖈𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖑 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖘: Used as a remedy for gas, bloating, cramping, and digestive issues, good for bronchitis and asthma. Antibacterial, antifungal, helps keep blood sugar in check, reduce depression and menopause symptoms. 𝕾𝖎𝖉𝖊 𝖊𝖋𝖋𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖘: May have estrogen-like effects, so there's some concern that the use of anise supplements may be potentially harmful to people with hormone-sensitive conditions, such as hormone-dependent cancers (breast cancer, uterine cancer, ovarian cancer), endometriosis, and uterine fibroids.

𝕸𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑/𝖒𝖊𝖙𝖆𝖕𝖍𝖞𝖘𝖎𝖈𝖆𝖑 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖘: Banishes evil Clairvoyance Clarity Dark moon divination Dream potion (slow cook in Olive, Coconut or Jojoba oil and anoint wrists and temples before bed) Immortality Love Luck Place on altar to increase the power generated Power generator Prophetic visions Protection Psychic awareness Represent stars Spiritual offerings

𝕯𝖊𝖎𝖙𝖞(𝖎𝖊𝖘): 𝕰𝖑𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙(𝖘): Air/Water 𝕻𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖊𝖙(𝖘): Mercury/Jupiter 𝖅𝖔𝖉𝖎𝖆𝖈(𝖘): 𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗(𝖘): Fem 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖐𝖗𝖆(𝖘):

𝕻𝖔𝖎𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖘? 𝕴𝖋 𝖓𝖔, 𝖋𝖑𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖘 & 𝖔𝖗 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖘: no- Has a sweet licorice flavor 𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝖚𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓: Dough for baked goods, fruit fillings for pies, and ground meat before baking. Anise extract can be used in baked goods and to flavor drinks such as coffee or hot chocolate. The seeds can also be used to brew a licorice-flavored tea.

𝕻𝖗𝖔𝖕𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓- 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙: Full sun, inside or outside 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙: Sow anise in the garden as early as two weeks before the average last frost date in spring. Anise requires a long, frost-free growing season of about 120 days. 𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖔 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖓𝖙: Growing anise needs regular water until the plants are established and then can tolerate periods of drought.  𝕻𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖊𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖓𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓𝖘: Does best around 65 to 70 degrees. Likes slightly acidic soil with consistent moisture 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖘𝖊𝖊𝖉𝖘/𝖘𝖕𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖘/𝖊𝖈𝖙: August to September when the flowers go to seed. Save the seed heads in a paper bag until they dry enough for the seed to fall out of the old flowers. 𝕺𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖎𝖕𝖘: Compost is the only fertilizer you'll need

𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖔 𝖎𝖉𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖋𝖞: The solid green leaves are two to four inches long, simple, spirally-arranged, and obovate to elliptic in shape. Crushed leaves have a licorice aroma. Flowers are inconspicuous and fruit is a star shaped many-seeded pod about 3/4 inch in diameter.

𝕳𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖘𝖙- 𝖂𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖘𝖙: takes up to 6 years to grow fruit. Pick when still unripe, available all year round with fresh pods between March and May. Seeds require more than 100 frost-free days to reach harvest. Harvest seeds from late summer to early autumn starting 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖐 𝖋𝖔𝖗: About two to three weeks after flowering when seeds have turned brown and fall easily from the head. 𝖂𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖘 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖘𝖙: seeds flowers and fruit 𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖔 𝖍𝖆𝖗𝖛𝖊𝖘𝖙: Snip anise leaves for fresh use as needed.  𝕳𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖔 𝖉𝖗𝖞/𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖊: Dry in the sun or in an oven

#witch #witchy #witchcraft #herbal #herbs #herbalism #green witch #Anise #Star Anise

[earaercircular]

Oyster shells, "it's a beautiful material, it can inspire creators"

In Bordeaux, the “Coquilles” association collects and recycles waste from oysters and other clams to transform it into limestone compost for agriculture and may soon be into biomaterial for design.

The last bins filled with oyster shells, scallops and cockles were transported on January 9 to the Quai de Brazza, on the right bank of Bordeaux. They will spend at least six weeks in a storage area where they will be rain washed and bug cleaned. Once crushed, these limestone shells will be used, as lime can do, to improve the acid soils of the Médoc vineyards or the agricultural land of the Val de l'Eyre, in Gironde. “We collected 4.1 tonnes of shellfish waste over the two weeks of the end-of-year celebrations with 31 collection points,” rejoices Bénédicte Salzes, co-founder of the Coquilles[1]  association, which recovers and recycles these limestone envelopes.

For its second year of real collection over the end-of-year holiday period, the association has more than doubled the number of points where individuals are invited to drop off their shellfish waste. "We have convinced two new municipalities of the interest of the operation" continues the forties. Thus Le Taillan-Médoc[2] and Saint-Jean-d'Illac[3]  have joined Bordeaux[4] and Le Bouscat[5]  in the recycling system. With Ellande Barthélémy, co-founder of Coquilles, Bénédicte Salzes now hopes to rally other municipalities and especially the metropolis of Bordeaux, that has waste expertise. To carry out its project, the association works with Détritivores[6] a bio-waste collection cooperative[7], that employs people in integration. “I like the environmental and societal approach of this type of structure. Today we store the shells at the Détritivores but in 2023 we want to find a land where we can settle. We would like to join forces with other social and solidarity economy structures specializing in waste to achieve synergies,” explains the young woman who embarked on the Coquilles adventure in 2019.

The new place could also accommodate the crusher that the association plans to buy while the crushing of the shells is now carried out by an external company. “We also need to find an economic model for our project and develop recovery channels with higher added value than calcium amendment.[8]” Concrete, with crushed shells instead of sand, is a track. “We are partnering with the University of Bordeaux, that has developed an initial study. With mechanical properties that are less efficient than those of conventional concrete, shell concrete is more intended for the manufacture of furniture. It is a beautiful material, in which the shell clearly visible. It can inspire creators”, explains the young woman who has a design student make a bench prototype with shell concrete legs and a reused wooden seat. Bénédicte is also considering launching an inventory of local waste. "We could imagine substrates based on shellfish waste but also coffee grounds, wood chips or used bricks to green the roofs and roads of the city." New projects may well come out of their shells.

Source

Florence Donnarel, Les coquilles d’huîtres, «c’est un beau matériau, il peut inspirer des créateurs», in : Libération, 20-01-2023 ; https://www.liberation.fr/forums/les-coquilles-dhuitres-cest-un-beau-materiau-il-peut-inspirer-des-createurs-20230120_UN4O5GMDCJD2NCGXRNJNY7ZTUU/

[1] The project was incubated within Atis social innovation, the association created in June 2020, supported by IFAID and France Active. A first collection was carried out during the 2020 end-of-year celebrations, a next step consists of testing the operational model from collection to recovery in agriculture, raising awareness among professionals and individuals and continuing research and development work. http://coquilles.org/page-daccueil/

[2] Le Taillan-Médoc is a commune in the Gironde department in the Nouvelle-Aquitaine region in Southwestern France. Part of Bordeaux Métropole, it is located northwest of Bordeaux. In 2019, it had a population of 10,141.

[3]Saint-Jean-d'Illac is a commune in the French department of Gironde (Nouvelle-Aquitaine region) and has 6104 inhabitants (2004). The place is part of the arrondissement of Bordeaux.

[4]Bordeaux is a city in southwestern France. It is the capital of the Gironde department, of the former region of Aquitaine and of the new, larger region of Nouvelle-Aquitaine. It is the historical capital of the Gascony region. The agglomeration is organized in a group of municipalities, Bordeaux Métropole. The municipality had 260,958 inhabitants on January 1, 2019. The agglomeration had almost 900,000 inhabitants. The city is known all over the world for the wines from the area.

[5] Le Bouscat is a commune in the French department of Gironde (Nouvelle-Aquitaine region) and has 22,455 inhabitants (1999). The place is part of the Bordeaux Métropole partnership and the arrondissement of Bordeaux.

[6]Detritivores, detritiphages or saprophages are living beings, bacteria, fungi and invertebrates lato sensu, which feed on animal, plant or fungal debris which are excreta, excrement, are in decomposition, or are part of the necromass.

[7] https://www.les-detritivores.co/

[8] calcium supply for agriculture

#circular economy #organic waste ecycling

[haaningchen]

Not known Details About Ayahuasca Tour

Soul Quest church also has been a pacesetter in offering preparing and integration coaching for the last 10 years, helping you're feeling absolutely organized in your journey right into a deep healing encounter with mom ayahuasca. All important machines is going to be provided for your excursion, as well as gentle refreshments and snacks to enjoy on board. Your tour will conclude at its first departure stage. If you do not see manta rays on this excursion, reserve once again for another night--no demand. To reach at Lima, we recommend looking on on the list of big flight engines like google in your area, and afterwards comparing prices right With all the Airways. People who have eaten ayahuasca report having mystical experiences and spiritual revelations relating to their purpose on the planet, the accurate character with the universe, and deep insight into ways to be the ideal individual they probably can. Team sizes are pretty significant, Therefore if you're looking for anything a lot more intimate and one-1 time, this might not be the place for you. The plant medication ceremony begins at nighttime less than the stars when you hear the Appears of your Icaro get started. We've a ceremonial Area in which all are welcome to make use of through there remain. It overlooks a contemporary h2o swimming gap, wherever one can swim. You can find flushing toilets and composting toilets. Tiles loos with cold running water for showers. A place to stroll and find plant medicines in our gardens, a common area for taking in and studying, a canoe inside our laguna. Foods Afterwards that yr the PTO issued a call rejecting the patent, on The idea that the petitioners' arguments that the plant was not "unique or novel" ended up valid; nevertheless, the decision did not acknowledge the argument that the plant's religious or cultural values prohibited a patent. We have been a non-revenue Centre, the money you send to TheVine Centre is a donation and we make use of the funds to aid the middle along with the jungle. With private retreats, you get a hundred% of our awareness without the interruptions and social dynamics of group retreats. Attending an ayahuasca church is actually a lawful way for ayahuasca use while in the United states and can entail spiritual ceremonies. There are actually actions pushing ahead the. decriminalization of psychedelics, but we are not rather there nevertheless. Acacia maidenii (Maiden's wattle) – bark *not all vegetation are "Lively strains", meaning some crops can have little or no DMT and Some others greater quantities Turtle sightings are assured; if a turtle just isn't sighted, you will be offered a absolutely free next cruise. Following snorkeling, love lunch (if selection selected ) and two delivered drinks while you keep your eyes peeled for passing marine everyday living like dolphins and migrating whales. My knowledge with ayahuasca and what I discovered in All those 5 ceremonies has permanently modified my life. It is completely genuine that it’s a lifestyle time of therapy jammed into a person night time. Honestly there’s no way I would at any time have unlocked the traumas and insight I've with my therapist. With Behold Retreats, you might be supported right down to the detail from vacation preparations, superior-close accommodations, and the chance to acquire 7 weeks of private coaching for optimized preparing and integration.

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[growsinspirals]

soo this past summer, i had the opportunity to participate in @theschoolofmakingthing ‘s IMMERSION 4.0 VR 360° video creation lab, Summer Residency Program, in partnership with @cucalorus film foundation. i played an awful lot lol. w/ sound, w/ vr cameras, with adobe premier 😅, in the atlantic ocean, along the boardwalk, at a state park in brackish water, with butterflies, w/ horses, in compost, on a skateboard, with fire, in a place that felt really familiar to me growing up in va along the coast only a couple hours away. we got to spend 3 weeks in wilmington nc, researching and absorbing the history of place, engaging with nature, living, creating, cooking, doing skillshares w/ and for each other. truly immersive! lol i also gathered madd footage for this short VR film i directed called “Record Warped on.tha Daily” that will be showing in Wilmington NC at the Cucalorus Film Festival in Mid-November (11/16 - 11/20). also too, i’m not sure if you’re aware, the school of making thinking has an active crowd sourcing campaign to launch their Artist Leadership Training Program. it’d be a good look to support if you can. this immersion definitely put a battery in my back and got connected with a community that’s madd encouraging and supportive. it’d be dope if they’d be able to expand their capacity to reach more artists (especially artists who are from disproportionately marginalized communities*). def peep the link in their bio for more info and if you’d like to support super grateful to have been able to be in community with such an amazing group of ppl. s/o to everyone involved, including @kissingtherain, @kesswa, @beautifulsoapbox, @mariabarbist, @mcfahnestock, @ks.brewer, fenton, @lizclaytonscofield, dan @stefanibyrdstudio .. slide 1: 🪞 @cucalorus slide 2 & 3 📸 by @beautifulsoapbox :scenes from a sound design skillshare i led 🎛🎚🎛🔉🔊 slide 4 📸 by @texasisaiah : 🌊 🧜🏽‍♂️ slide 5: @kissingtherain & @kesswa_ 🌊☀️ slide 6 & 7 📸 by @mcfahnestock : bts on site at the Daily Record vacant lot slide 8: New Hanover County Library archival reference slide 9: spanish moss @ sugarloaf.. carolina beach national park 🏞 slide 10: subt.le message by the 🔥 https://www.instagram.com/p/Ci2774NOkpM/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[cervidaedalus]

I moved here in a haste because I needed to move out of my previous place and kept having zero luck on roommate apps, all scam or creepo interractions on CList, and I don't have a FB (which I guess is where most of the roomies wanted stuff is. I was super happy at first. It had a great view, I was living with another east coast trans guy, I had a lot of ambition for decorating the place, the proximity to my job, doctor's office, and favourite cafe was so convenient. Then it all went RAPIDLY downhill with little things snowballing and big things popping up.

Upstairs housemate is pregnant by her boyfriend of less than half a year. She doesn't speak English so I can't ask her what's going on and I feel like there's more to this than I'm aware of (but at the same time don't want to be dragged into something). She lost her job "because pregnant" which is SO FUCKING ILLEGAL. We do NOT have the space and she just... I guess expected to magically find a place to go? But she doesn't even seem to be putting in the effort to look for work (at least from what I can tell) and it's only going to become more difficult the longer she waits. Her boyfriend was over at least once a week or I could hear her talking to him on the phone, but seems to be MIA and honestly I'm reeling in horror for her while simultaneously angry at the level of irresponsibility that will eventually involve an actual human life.

Downstairs housemate seems to not even care. He's been the one who has neglected dishes in the upstairs kitchen for weeks and then "forgot" they're his and made the upstairs housemate do them when I asked if those dishes could be cleaned out. He's left the oven on multiple times. Left the door wide open this morning. He's flaked on me so many times over getting into the laundry room that I said "fuck it" and got a wheeled laundry bag to take down to the laundromat.

He sure seems to care when it SPECIFICALLY impacts him though. -I've been blamed for the cat smell up here which is 100% a case of olfactory fatigue from him being up here constantly to try and clean it before renting out the room. It smells in places under the furniture she can't get to. It's from a previous renter who had two cats he just set free when he moved out. -He's paranoid about losing his benefits (rightly so) to such a degree that he's insisting I pay rent in cash and refusing to give me a rental agreement (which means receipts for my cash payments will probably also be a no). -The other night he tried to coerce me to let him take my PS4 out of the shared living room and into his locked studio apartment downstairs just so he could watch a movie and when I asked why it needed to leave the living room got a snarky, "because that's where I am and where my TV is" like this entitled him to removing someone else's 400$ electronics from a shared space just because he doesn't wanna be in the shared space.

There's an incomprehensible amount of inability to maintain basic cleanliness. -The toilet was flooded and water was just... left there until I found it an hour later. -We have TWO vacuums that were either way overfilled, used as a shop-vac, or both and are busted. -The sink strainer was removed and put in the cabinet so people could just throw their compost into the drain despite both a garbage can AND disposal, blocking it when I went to do dishes. -Upstairs housemate bought two gallons of milk before she was finished her previous gallon: 1gal and two 1/2 gal. The half gallons expired May 5th and only one got used by that time (the other is half used and in the door), the gallon expired May 1 and is still unopened. -The trashcan kept being filled beyond full while I was at work without even being tied off and set aside.

On top of all this, I never saw the lease, never met the landlord, don't see the utility/internet bills before I pay them and at this point am afraid to ask. I was told I could bring my cat here and then told when it became an issue (being blamed for the cat smell) that actually there's a no pets policy. Who even knows if myself and the other housemate are a violation of the lease too.

I was red with rage the other day. He said rent needs to be paid in cash because twice I'd asked for a rental agreement as its the only thing I can use to prove residency to open an account with the local credit union. I was asked about my Chime online bank "Isn't that a bank?" told him yes, but I need to get to a physical place to get that much cash. He then told me I should be able to open an account with just ID and SS card, I told him I'm aware, but I specifically need a CREDIT UNION. He then came back with "If you don't pay cash I'll be charging you ATM fees" as if the back-and-forth was me refusing to get cash and not me asking for licherally a single piece of paper saying I live here and pay rent so I can get said cash.

I even said I would provide him a pen and paper so he could write it, then I'd type and print it at work and bring it back to sign. He came upstairs to deal with a couple other things, took the pen and paper and...

It's been four days and I've received diddly shit.

And it doesn't really matter at this point if he's forgotten or is deliberately trying to avoid it because if it's the former, I can't rely on him to remember I paid, and if it's the latter, he'll likely refuse to sign a rental receipt which then cycles back to the other point. I'm just so fuckin' tired and want to live in a place with people who are communicative, clean, and honest...