#Punctation is important

[wakewithgiggli]

One for the "Punctation is important" collection

[wriothesleysgf]

wonderland— wriothesley.

★ : wriothesley is tired of your phone ringing. he's not going to let something like that stop him having fun.

cw : riding, teasing, exhibitionism, praise, m. m-sturb-tion, spit, fem reader.

"fucking angelic," wriothesley growled, punctuating the phrase with a slap to your ass. the sound echoed around the room, combining with the grunts and groans emanating from the two colliding bodies.

you continued to ride him as best as you could, though the pace that he was attempting to set was becoming too much; the man was essentially using you like a toy at this point. what had begun as you slowly grinding on his thigh whilst he finished up some paperwork had lead to his thick cock kissing your cervix as he gripped your hips tight enough that the indents of his blunt nails were visible.

"is my pretty girl struggling? why don't i take—" he began, but was cut off by the sound of your phone ringing. he ignored it initially, letting it go to voicemail. the caller didn't leave a message, so certainly it couldn't be important, right?

wrong. after the third call, wriothesley grabbed your phone from his desk and checked the caller id. he turned the screen to face you, and before even a syllable could pass your lips he had hit the answer button. he put the phone to your ear, hinting for you to take it and answer the call.

"y- yes, monseiur neuvillette? is everything okay?" you spoke in the most professional voice that you could muster, given that wriothesley's cock was still nestled within you.

"stay quiet, princess. you don't want your boss knowing how you really spend your lunch breaks, do you?"

your raised eyebrows soon turned into a warning glare, as wriothesley picked you up from his lap and put you onto his desk. with your back flat against the hard wood, he took a moment to see exactly how messy he'd already made your sweet cunt. even just with one finger traced through your sensitive folds, and you were forced to bite your bottom lip.

"is everything okay? are you feeling unwell?" the iudex queried.

you had to use every last ounce of strength to maintain your composure. "i'm perfectly fine, it's just a little cold, that's all."

wriothesley's smirk gave you the urge to slap it off of his face. he knew precisely how to drive you crazy, and it worried you. whilst trying to maintain the conversation with your boss, he continued to tease you.

he bent down to place a kiss to your swollen clit, and the short whine that fell from your lips was almost certainly audible on the other end of this call. if he did notice, however, he didn't mention it. nor did he mention any noises you made from the subsequent kitten licks to the sensitive bud.

wriothesley was enjoying this a little too much. he decided to go all out, lining his cock up with your puffy cunt despite the wide eyes from you— it wasn't a plea not to do this, no, but rather a look of shock that he'd go so far. in fact, it was turning you on even more. the risk of being caught was exhilarating, and had your slick dripping onto the desk below you.

"oh, baby," wriothesley cooes as he slowly pushes into you. "always take me so well, 's like your cunt was made for me," he punctates the sentence by collecting a fat glob of saliva in his mouth and spitting directly onto your clit. the combination of such a lewd action with his praise filled words never failed to make you weak.

with a few more harsh thrusts into you, your phone lay forgotten about on the desk. your whimpers became more prominent, and from the look in your eyes you were bordering on overstimulation.

wriothesley removed his left glove with his teeth, throwing it aside before putting two fingers to your lips. he didn't gag you, instead slowly allowing you to suck on his digits as a way to stay quieter— how considerate. you swirled your tongue around his digits, your hands both on his wrist. soft pleas came out distorted, though from the way that your cunt intensely pulsed, wriothesley knew you were close to cumming.

"think you can stay quiet, princess?" he chuckles. you nodded sheepishly, and he removes his fingers from your mouth. "good girl."

however, that trademark smirk start to appear again.

instead of going easy on you, he immediately targets your pretty clit. a couple of taps followed by a few strokes had you writhing around. wriothesley tutted a few times, unimpressed. "he can probably hear you thrashing around on my desk, darling," he reminds you, nodding towards your phone. you assumed he'd hung up, though the quieted calls of your name made it clear that neuvillette was still on the line.

wriothesley moved you around a little, pushing your legs up into somewhat of a mating press. his goal was to keep you still enough that you couldn't shift out of his reach as your highs approached. your ankles were at his shoulders, his body pressed against your thighs. the hard, powerful thrusts continued, and you were a blubbering mess. the man took a moment to slap your tits, always finding the way that your flesh jiggled incredibly attractive. with a pinch of your stiff nipple for good measure, he returned to his attack on your swollen clit.

"go on, baby," wriothesley cooed. "you know you wanna cum for me, yeah? let me hear it, princess,"

there were tears in your eyes from the overstimulation. with his thick cock consistently grazing over all the spots that made your back arch and the gentle touches to your cunt, it didn't take too long before your nails dragged down wriothesley's back and your thighs to begin to shake. you babbled something incoherent again and before you knew it, your orgasm came crashing down on you. it triggered the man's own high, and he shot his load deep inside of you.

he leaned over you, allowing you both to be close to one another as you caught your breath. wriothesley mumbled gentle praises into your ear and carressed your cheek, wanting you to feel as safe and loved as ever.

what the two of you were unaware of, was the absolute bliss being experienced on the other end of the line too. if one were to listen closely, they would hear the esteemed iudex's heavy pants.

[restricted-on-13th]

How to Train Your Ghost (still trying to find an appropriate title)

Low-key inspired by a lot of fanarts and highkey inspired by areaper au I found that's pitch pearl in the fanfiction.net. This is my 2nd time writing this idea (since ive been thinking of it for the.....past 18 hours), my draft got accidentally deleted and I am mad (wrote the first draft sleep deprived and running on 30 minutes of sleep, still is running on 30 minutes of sleep, I'll visit this idea back after I get at least 4 hours of sleep and not low-key delirious, yes I still am low-key delirious) forgive me if i dont explain well or my horrendous punctation and grammas, i know. ill just word vomit/narrate/write my prompt/story/thoughts. ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

Tags: Human Danny (more like liminal but hes not a halfa, he does have powers though but much more altered and weaker for his squishy human body but if its a more ghost power, well, he doesnt have it), Danny Fenton is a ghost hunter, Danny Fenton has a scythe, No trio trio-ing here (Sorry, Sam, Tucker and Danny aren't friends, maybe yet), Pitch Pearl (minor, slight, if you squint, platonic, Idk) Phantom is a dork, Phantom is a sin-ammon roll (.....), Phantom is learning all about Life and Humans (mostly humans), Secret Identities, No One Knows

I found the fic I took inspo from! Do mind that while it may look very similar (probably at the first) I have different plans for mine (ques the clues I left behind and the glaring title) but still feel free to check out their work!

Just Like the Story by Kitsune's Dark Shadow

___________________________________________

Danny probably didn't die in his parent's portal last week on Wednesday, he thinks. He was pretty sure that he was still breathing when he crawled out of the portal, feeling the warm breathe he feels his lungs exhale on the cold ceramic tiles of the lab's floor bringing no comfort to his charred flesh as he stares at the swirling green of the portal, feeling hollow inside as he felt that something was taken from him.

Even though he could feel phantom pain on every nerve of his body all the way to Monday, the first day of school, he chalked it up to being electrocuted by at least a million volts in his body when he unwittingly slipped and press the on button inside the machine. Why there's an on button inside a portal? Danny unfortunately knows how it was mistakingly built inside.

But aside from the near death painpainI'mscaredhelpHelpMe, it stands to reason that for a teenager, such triffling matters were thrown into the metaphorical trash bin for more important matters. Like the A-listers, his studies, space and finding friends cause he's so terribly lonely, just wanting to not be seen as a freak. So it really isn't Danny's fault that he forgot about that one Wednesday noon, he was and still is busy trying to find his place in Casper High, determined to find one friend who would like him. Who wouldn't leave him due to him being Danny Fenton, son of deranged scientists believing ghost exists, the local freak of Amity and the lonely loser of Casper High.

He would have forgotten about it until he woke up floating from his bed, face first in the ceiling. Doing the approximate of a reverse dive into his week and remembering that one Wednesday brought the memories fresh, clear and crisp back to his newly (already) traumatised teenaged brain.

___________________________________________

Soft moonlight streamed down from the covered moon as the dewy grass below is disturbed, a floating glow of a silhouette dashes through the forest. Panting as blobs of green dripped from its wounds, gripping its sluggishly bleeding arm. It muttered "No...No...No.....No" as it ran for its afterlife, scared at something that was following it. Blue lights hallowed in green with little flecks of it across it iris narrowed as it captured and saw its target.

The ghost immediately ducked, the wind whistling as though something flew through the air. The ghost screamed in fear as they came into a clearing, sudden whips of air came and dropped in front of the ghost, effectively blocking it from its escape.

A large black scythe stood in front of the ghost, nothing of note to its design but only the tiny flecks of dark green stars across its blade. The ghost stared at the weapon in fear and apprehension as the moon sifting to the forest below slowly peeked around the clouds.

A shadow hovered and blocked the moonlight as the ghost stilled. Green eyes slowly looked up, following the handle of scythe and stopped at a figure above. Foot firmly placed on the handle of the scythe while still holding it, a boy looked down at the ghost.

Black whispy hair framed the boy's face, wind swept and frazzled from the chase. A long single white tuff of hair was partially hidden by a crocheted black and white headband, a striking difference to his dark hair. Blue eyes hallowed in neon green with flecks of different shaded oof green dancing in his eyes like stars as he stared the ghost down.

His face was framed by the moon as he slowly moved and pointed a modified ecto-gun to the ghost's head.

The ghost whispered "Azrael..."

___________________________________________

Notes:

Danny goes by 'Azrael' while Phantom is Phantom, the only one with a secret identity here is Danny and Valerie. No one knows who Danny moonlights as or that Danny for one is ghost hunting, so no Jazz, his parents and since the thrio aren't friends, they dont know too. I dont know about Valerie, Vlad or the ghost population yet as I haven't planned that out yet. The No One Knows tag can be applied here and his...accident too.

I have plans on Phantom but treat him as an independent character from Danny, while he does have a correlation with Danny (soul bonded) other than his looks being an invertion of Danny's (likes Danny therefore copied his human looks), they're not the same person.

___________________________________________

Phantom: We're soul bonded! :D

Danny (holding a gun and his scythe while staring at the local hero of Amity): ....

*silently cocks gun at phantom*

___________________________________________

Notes:

Anyways, Danny being a ghost hunter doesn't mean he doesn't sympathise with ghost. (He's liminal) that's also where the 'Azrael' name comes. He guides the dead, like a psychopomp, and also protects humans from the ghosts and vice versa.

I have more ideas for him but.... I won't share :)

All in due time.

___________________________________________

Danny was slowly stalking down the road near the forest, brushing his upper lip and his hand coming away bloody. His hands tightly clenched as he gritted his teeth and gave a low snarl.

"Fucking Dash Baxter and his stupid-" he hissed lowly as he kicked a can to the bushes. He huffed as he clutched his bag when suddenly he heard something. He looked around, a bit confused and wary when he saw nothing, he clutched his bag closer to him as he quickly opened it and took out a modified ecto-gun.

One of his latest projects in his sudden venture into ghost hunting, he was proud of how much he was able to customised it to his liking. He heard another sound and quickly aimed at where he heard it, the same bush he kicked the can at.

He slowly creeped up to it, prickles of unease all around his skin. He knew he wasn't a professional ghost hunter, he's still new to the whole thing. The world of Ghost hunters is a cruel and cold place, its either being lucky enough to not find a quack to ally with or lucky enough to survive until you changed careers. It's especially much more harder for an aspiring un-allied ghost hunter that sympathises with ghosts to learn the ropes. No back up and No supervision means that Danny has to always be in high alert in case for a ghost attack.

A melodic tune came from the bush as Danny crept closer. Using the muzzle to nudge the bush to the side as Danny immediately aimed.

He stared down at the wide green eyes of an amorphous blob ghost with a little white tuff of hair on its head as it gave a tiny squeaky tune.

"Beewp?"

[this-is-krikkit]

What quality standards do you have for fanfiction? Either yours or someone else's.

well, i don't wanna call myself an easy birl, except i kind of am when it comes to reading fanfic lmao. what i mean is i'll give almost anything a shot (depending on my mood, the "mark for later" button is there for a reason after all) and i'll rarely be disappointed, as long as: the form is readable (somewhat proper punctation, separated paragraphs and not like a whole block of text, that type of thing), and the content is appropriately tagged in terms of warnings and spoilers and the like. if we dig a little deeper, a minimum of consistency in worldbuilding and/or plot is ofc important (especially in multichapters or AUs), as well as making the characters sound/act like themselves no matter how ooc the premise of the fic might seem (i'm very open minded in that regard btw, i love to envision characters in unexpected situations as long as it's brough to me in a believable manner!). i truly don't think a fic needs to have the most elaborate of vocabulary or the highest word count to be good; i think it all relies on how well the author's able to express their feelings for the character(s) through their work. so even if it's not grammatically perfect or the writer clearly has a favorite type of phrasing they keep using along the fic, or there's a dozen typos in a single one shot; as long as there's 1) a coherent and interesting idea there, and 2) enough passion for their own concept (sometimes with adorably too long author's notes with lore they couldn't put in the fic itself but can't resist sharing with the readers anyway) that you can tell they put so much effort into the writing... then it's a quality fic imo. that's all fandom is anyway, right? trying your hardest to convey how much you care about fictional blorbos and whatever scenario you've come up with for them, so that someone else can resonate with it and feel understood (even if it's only though a free, freaky bedtime story written by some stranger who's decades older and lives six thousand kilometers away).

as for my own writing, it's simple really: it's got to feel like the most perfect piece i've ever written and could ever write (for the second before i hit "post" and the inevitable Self Cringe starts creeping in and only grows from there, i mean), otherwise i will agonize over it for a couple more months/years before thinking it's worthy of being put out there for my 3 regular readers to check out 😎

[star-sim]

i've read ur hello kitty meets batman and super massive black hole at least 10 times in the same day >< all ur works are so deliciously made pls tell me ur ways 😢😢

hihi! supermassive is like one of my all time favorite pieces (it’s also my longest too!) i’ve written, so it makes me so happy that you love it as much as i do!!

i have so many tips for writing long fics well, but these are my main point (very long lol):

never start a scene at the beginning, start in the middle. i really mean it, NEVER. starting at the beginning usually leads to being redundant and it makes it very difficult to express sudden and strong emotions/tension, just because the beginning is drawn out. starting in the middle makes your intentions clear as an author. cut straight to the chase, no introduction needed. it's much stronger, and makes it easier to add commentary and introspection

example:

he walked into the room, took off his coat and jacket, and looked at her. she was in the kitchen. "i love you" he said. she stared at him, before blushing. how could he say that so casually?

vs

"i love you," he said. she stared at him with wide eyes. just earlier he walked into the room, taking off his coat silently before his looked at her. how could he say that so casually?

of course anything can work as long as it's executed well, but it's imperative that you keep the flow of your writing strong.

which leads me to my next point: purpose.

i dapple in a loooot of written media, and something i notice about fanfiction in general is a lack of purpose. i genuinely mean this, every word, every sentence, every scene, every piece of punctuation, MUST serve a purpose. otherwise, your writing will fall apart.

let me break it down

words - words are so strong, so so strong. every single word carries emotion and history, even if many of them virtually mean the same thing. a single word can change the mood and tone of your writing, so choose them wisely.

example: if i'm writing a horror scene and need to describe the setting, which set of words creates that uncomfortable environment more effectively? <dark, dusty, smelly, nasty> or <shadowy, grimy, putrid, suffocating>

i'd say the second one, the first set is too general while the second set creates a very strong visual impression

sentence - unless important or a literary device, sentences should not need to repeat themselves. it makes your writing redundant and flat. every sentence needs to build upon each other. i like to imagine them as a building block for the house that's your story. they must carry a purpose, or else it will be useless and otherwise nothing will change if you don't use it.

scene - unless it's a motif or holds symbolic meaning, try your very best to make each and every scene distinct. what i mean by this is that i've seen school fics a lot, and they have 2/3 subway scenes. this is okay i guess, but if you want to elevate your writing, only have 1 subway scene-- and make it strong. this makes your scenes memorable. it's like when you scratch an itch a lot and it stops feeling good, if you do the same setting or idea over and over, it's no longer special and falls flat. there's exceptions of course, but try to give your scenes purpose. your scenes are there to build relationships or make a point come across, so utilize them wisely. they're your tools

punctation - SYNTAX SYNTAX STYNTAX. sentence structures are your best friend, because believe it or not, the way that you construct your sentences and use punctuation WILL 100% change the meaning of your words.

my 2 favorite uses are:

if someone is paranoid, anxious, catastrophizing, or anything of that sort, drag out your sentence structure, use repeated commas and less periods.

emotions like distress, panic, and just being frantic- use em-dashes and very short, choppy sentences

in short, what i’m trying to get at is that writing is fundamentally the manipulation of language.

in the end, it comes down to developing your literary voice/style, finding out what works for you, and using your intuition, which you'll have to train (and practicing helps!!)

i hope this helps, i'd be happy to elaborate more if you need me to

i'm sorry if i yapped or got too technical

thanks for coming by!!! im so happy that you like my works!

[gingeronheels]

Bergenbier S.A. aduce spiritul Madridului in portofoliul premium

Bergenbier S.A., parte a grupului Molson Coors Beverage Company își completează portofoliul premium cu o bere în stil mediteranean, care invită consumatorii să descopere stilul de viață madrilen, El alma de Madrid, așa cum spune și sloganul. Madrí Excepcional este un lager urban, cu o abordare fusion pe piața berii, un mix echilibrat între elementele tradiționale și cele noi.

„Lansarea Madrí Excepcional este un pas important pentru Bergenbier S.A. și vine într-un moment de inflexiune pentru segmentul premium, unde vedem o tranziție tot mai evidentă a consumatorilor spre beri premium accesibile. România este una dintre piețele dinamice ale Europei Centrale și de Est, iar noi suntem unul dintre cei mai activi producători de bere din România, în materie de lansări. Madrí Excepcional este un pas important în creșterea categoriei, noul brand fiind un lager modern și urban, ce rupe tiparele tradiționale din segment. În plus, pentru partenerii noștri, noua marcă oferă o oportunitate excepțională de creștere și am încredere că va fi primită cu mare entuziasm atât de consumatori, cât și de clienți”, a punctat Mihai Voicu, General Manager Bergenbier S.A.

Identitatea vizuală Madrí Excepcional este strâns legată de Madrid – culoarea roșie, reprezentativă pentru steagul Spaniei, precum și figura Chulapo de pe etichetă, ce reflectă o grupare din Madridul secolului al XIX-lea, caracterizată printr-un stil vestimentar sofisticat, o atitudine îndrăzneață și un mod de gândire inovator.

„Suntem bucuroși să ne completăm portofoliul cu o bere atât de diferită și plină de personalitate, așa cum este Madrí Excepcional. Prin toate execuțiile brandului vom invita consumatorii să trăiască în adevăratul stil spaniol, pentru că Madrí încapsuleazăspiritul inovator și se adresează consumatorilor care vor să iasă din tiparele berilor premium de pe piață. Vom avea o comunicare integrată, campanii neconvenționale, vom fi prezenți la cele mai importante evenimente urbane din România, unde promitem că experiențele vor fi excepționale! ”, a completat Victor Teioșanu, Marketing Director Bergenbier S.A.

Madrí Excepcional a fost lansată în Regatul Unit în 2020, unde a cunoscut un succes uriaș, devenind în 2023 al doilea cel mai vândut brand de lager draught (la draft) în segmentul de beri internaționale ca volum de vânzări. La scurt timp după apariția sa pe piață, marca a câștigat două premii prestigioase: aur la International Beer Challenge (IBC) în 2021 și argint la World Beer Awards în același an.

În România, Madrí Excepcional este disponibilă pe piață în sticlă de 330 ml, sticlă de 500 ml, doză de aluminiu de 500 ml, draft în locațiile partenere, precum și în pachete promo de 5+1.

[ameliathetadclover]

its giving Matt rose’s ‘punctation is important’ video on YouTube

I think this is accurate...

[arrangoiz]

Breast Calcifications on Mammogram

Screening mammography: Is important in identifying breast cancer at an early stage Calcifications have many forms: The characteristics of the calcifications help identify whether they are associated with a benign or malignant process: Smooth, round, large and layering calcium are generally associated with benign findings Fine, irregular, punctate, linear and branching, and pleomorphic…

[jonathankatwhatever]

Still 4 August 2023 and I just looked at the Navier-Stokes equations and part of the answer is almost self-adressed by the fact of grisp construction. I’m thinking the answer is yes and now, btw. Yes, that solutions exist, but no that doesn’t make them easy to find. I need to translate the actual equations better.

Now 5 August 2023 and there’s a block preventing me from digging into any subject until I understand orthogonality and Irreducibility better. These connect to the pigeon-hole principle, to any theorem which describes crossing from one region to another, to any transition from some identifiable state to some other. That is basically what this work describes. So what can I say about it that I haven’t yet said? What have you got to tell me? What comes next?

That’s a hook. What comes next? Whether an incarnation, like a Phoenix or stitched together Osiris, or seemingly as unchangeable as the Sentinel Storyline, there is always that line, the line we know so well, which we typically call the midline in Triangular. When we relate it to a counter, then it’s the counting line. When we relate it to Observer, then it’s the O-line.

Another meaning in oasis. Swap the o for a b hidden behind, and it’s a sacred basis which is an oasis. That’s funny: b to o is 2 to 15, so that’s a 13, and it’s 13 from o to b. Cool. If I spell out a y, then it’s 11 and 2.

So in one paragraph, I went from Storyline to simple description of fundamentals. And then into the same kind of counting play which I always thought was idiotically me, but which turns out to be within the potential necessary to generate actual spellings, actual counts using a 26 long potential string, which is important because CM28 is 1+CM26+1, meaning it does what? It Triangulates, so the CM26 acts as an End to the other 2 Ends. See how beautiful that is? It literally fits a max length segment which Attaches at both Ends. It fills the gap Between these Ends.

And because it does, and because it makes an alphabet as opposed to lesser dimensional counts, then we can Attach meanings. Words appear in order. Letters appear in their places within words. Punctation appears. This all fits across gaps, across spaces. It’s 0-1-0.

What about this being English? This only says that a 26 count works, not that it’s English-centric. Each form of alphabet has something to recommend it, some form which it embodies. Can we argue, though, that 26 helps English spread? That it fits well to meanings because it is flexible in certain ways, rigid in others. I’m thinking it’s sort of like an equal tempering: this language with this alphabet and sounds is better at this, but not at that, and English is sort of mediocre in many dimensions. It can be precise, but it can be imprecise. It can be melodic and harsh. And so on.

Remember how much time we spent thinking about that? I think that occurred largely during law school. I don’t know how to think about stuff like this: I consider you to be the same entity, but I don’t know what you know or remember about stuff that happened before you were specifically you. My instincts say yes and the path to results has always been through yes.

I have to get that straight. When I accept, I get results because that is the same as a group operation, meaning some pathway and thus some movement or shift and thus some counting across symmetries because those are the states we can see. But that often comes from 2 negative sources. I guess the 2 is a well duh moment. One is fear that this is the End and I only have a short time left to do what I can. The other is doubt. I can see the Triangular: belief but out of time, doubt meeting that, so they can shift over the connecting 1-0Segment.

Even yesterday, I would not have believed I could so easily construct Triangular. It looks easy now. So if I invert my state of knowledge over that 1-0Segment, I can see myself tracing a path that follows belief by eliminating doubt, and it does this by expanding belief and thus eliminating doubt as each expansion generates pairings which describe the doubts for the included level of belief or acceptance. See why that happens? We construct Triangular to the pairings now that we have an inversion level above (and below, because this is induction, both one way and two way).

Does that map to quadrants? It obviously does, since we’re talking about LayerView, and one of the main points of LV is that it goes around the quadrants. Look at the basic Leibniz series: when you subtract ⅓ or add ⅕, then you are doing that entire level. That is why we can treat these as directional, as alternations: because they also run around the LV, around the quadrants.

I’ll post. Need a break.

————

Seriously? I was in Joanna describing how you can refine a dish and lose the flavor by comparing those essentials to a subgroup. Then: 26 sporadic simple groups are an alphabet that fills the space in 1+CM26+1. That’s obvious now.

So monster 20 + 6. Like consonants and vowels. I forgot: German is 26 + 4 letters. Even Chinese is like 6 simplified vowels and 20 non-blended consonants.

—————-

Can’t make new posts but can add so…. This is insanely great work!

[falseandrealultravival]

Mushroom-1:Various faces of mushrooms: important creatures for the earth

Lignin (wiki):skeletal component of wood (later)

Mushrooms and molds are almost identical creatures, neither plants nor animals. Mushrooms are the ones that open the umbrella, and molds are the ones that are not made. About mushrooms from wiki:

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Mushrooms (mushrooms, fungi, buds, mushrooms) are a common name for a relatively large (often protruding) fruiting body or basidiomycete itself among specific fungi (Fungi). Also, the word mushroom is often treated as a general term for specific fungi, but it is originally a structure as described above, not a classification of fungi. Fungi that do not produce fruiting bodies are molds. It is clearly different from plants.

There is no clear standard for "large size" here, but mushrooms are often called mushrooms that are large enough to be seen with the naked eye. Some species are toxic, although they are also used for food and psychological effects. Etymologically, it can be analyzed as "tree + + child"(inJapanese). Many fungi with fruiting bodies of visible size belong to the basidiomycota Basidiomycota or the Ascomycota ascomycota.

In Japan, about 300 species are edible, of which more than a dozen are artificially cultivated with mushrooms. It is said that there are about 2,500 known species and about two to three times as many unknown species in Japan, of which about 200 are well-known poisonous mushrooms, and about 20 are highly addicted or deadly poisonous.

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Generally, I think it can be defined like this. So how do molds and mushrooms grow? From wiki again:

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The body (entity) of mushrooms is included in a group of organisms called fungi together with mold. It is a tubular cell line called mycelium, which grows by decomposing and absorbing organic matter with enzymes secreted from the body, producing spores and repeating reproduction.

In the "Encyclopedia of Fungi" of the Japanese Society of Fungi, it is explained that fruiting bodies or basidium fruits are so-called mushrooms, hyphal tissue structures that make sexual reproduction organs, and do not refer to classification groups such as fungi.

In other words, strictly speaking, mushrooms are larger, umbrella-shaped ones. However, it is inaccurate, but it can also refer to the species of the organism that makes it. In other words, by definition, all fruiting bodies are mushrooms, or all organisms that make them are mushrooms. In the latter case, for example, minute punctate objects that are stuck or buried on the surface of dead branches are also regarded as mushrooms. It means that the organisms that are mushrooms look like molds or are yeast-like. There is an example in which the Japanese name is also called "mold" for those having such point-shaped fruiting bodies.

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Mushroom life cycle (wiki)

（To be continued）

[carlycmarathecat]

1. Patchwork Kids

2. Impossibly Tacky Clothes

3. Social Semi-Circle

4. Rope Bridge

5. Hermetic Magic

6. After-Action Patch-Up

7. You and What Army?

8. Hitman with a Heart

9. Sleep Deprivation

10. Day in the Life

11. Improvised Parachute

12. Eyes Always Shut

13. Clam Trap

14. “Jump Off a Bridge” Rebuttal

15. Crossover Couple

16. Wild Teen Party

17. Obliviously Beautiful

18. Grave-Marking Scene

19. Baby Factory

20. Fishbowl Helmet

21. Facial Recognition Software

22. Vile Villain, Saccharine Show

23. Door Fu

24. Deer in the Headlights

25. The Mothership

26. Disney Death

27. Still Got It

28. Cannot Spit It Out

29. Creating Life Is Unforeseen

30. Human Pack Mule

31. You Shall Not Pass!

32. Psychotic Smirk

33. The Worsening Curse Mark

34. Containment Field

35. Guys Are Slobs

36. Ragtag Bunch of Misfits

37. Alternate Self

38. Great Escape

39. Inflating Body Gag

40. Mona Lisa Smile

41. BFS

42. Mad Scientist Laboratory

43. Four-Leaf Clover

44. Great Big Book of Everything

45. Why Did It Have to Be Snakes?

46. Costume-Test Montage

47. Knee-High Perspective

48. Noisy Shut-Up

49. Apathetic Citizens

50. Translation Punctation

51. Hopeless Boss Fight

52. Has a Type

53. Spelling Bee

54. Crippling Castration

55. Criminal Amnesiac

56. Gone Horribly Wrong

57. Elephants Are Scared of Mice

58. Raised by Grandparents

59. Life Imitates Art

60. Farmer’s Daughter

61. Rejection Affection

62. Criminal Doppelgänger

63. Wardrobe Wound

64. Beauty Equals Goodness

65. Traitor Shot

66. Fashion Hurts

67. Heartbreak & Ice Cream

68. Denied Food as Punishment

69. Wouldn’t Hurt a Child

70. Soup is Medicine

71. Hellish Horse

72. The Man in the Mirror Talks Back

73. Fearsome Foot

74. Teamwork Seduction

75. Chariot Pulled by Cats

76. Infection Scene

77. Friend to All Living Things

78. Kook Mobile

79. Sapient Steed

80. Geeky Turn-On

81. Call a Human a ‘Meatbag’

82. Enraged by Idiocy

83. Making the Masterpiece

84. Rigged Contest

85. Cop Killer

86. I’ll Take That as a Compliment

87. Are These Wires Important?

88. Deliberately Cute Child

89. Love Confession

90. Accidental Public Confession

91. Flagpole Challenge

92. Running Away to Cry

93. Expecting Someone Taller

94. Slow Clap

95. Mature Animal Story

96. Babies Ever After

97. Cub Cues Protective Parent

98. Underwater City

99. Empathy Pet

100. Dramatic Drop

May I present the 100 Art Challenge with Tv Tropes! Here’s the site https://tvtropes.org

[popculturebuffet]

The McDuck Gala (Comission For WeirdKev27)

Sometime During Season 2:

The McDuck Gala: An annual event for charity hosted by McDuck Industries and various other coporations. This year is hosted by the Tropy Foundation and Glomgold Industries as part of both's partnership with Change for Chicks.

Glomgold: Owlson! I told you to get the cheapest vendors possible.. this.. this is quality food" (Shoves an entire plate of meatballs with toothppicks in his mouth) Ow curse you pointed wood!

Owlson: Mr. Glomgold, for the last time we are NOT skimping on the budget on one of the biggest events of the year and creating a PR Nightmare because of some paranoid fear Scrooge is going to... (Notices Scrooge pocketing a bunch of appitizers into plastic bags) okay clearly he is and I will deal with that. But i'm not going to let your petty rivalry

Glomgold: Petty?! The man gave me a dime and attacked me in a dream!

Owlson: I... don't have time to unpack.. any of that. You have tried to kill him on 999 seperate occasions. I counted. Including trying to blow him up on live television, trying to stab him with a spork at last years gala and serving "Shark Soup" the year before that.

Glomgold: It's like sharkfin soup but with live sharks it's clever.

Owlson: Debatable... the point is we have more.. important things... (Is looking at the latest person entering, Philliane Trophy, philanoprhist and globtrotting adventuerer)

Glomgold: Owlson.. TELL ME I'TS CLEVER..

Phillieane: Gentleman, ladies and others

Glomgold: There's others?

Philliane: I'm pleased to announced that redbeak's treasure has been found.. and is being donated to tonight's proceedings!

Applause from the Crowd:

Owlson: (Goes over to introduce myself) Well.. Uh.. hi i'm

Phillinae: Oh my god.. your Zan Owlson. Please your reptuation speaks for itself.

Owlson: Why.. thank you. (Both shake hands)

Flintheart: Owlson! Get over here and help me put all the food in my coat before scrooge gets it!

Owlson: (Ignores him entirely) I'm sorry

Philly: Don't be... i've.. dealt with him before. Including his "murder scrooge with a giant laser for the children" foundation.

Owlson: I wish I could tell you I didn't know that was a thing but I do my due dillgence. I can't tell you how much money he's wasted with hairbrained schemes, half baked plots and straight up murder attempts.

Philly: I know all that money could feed a

Both: Country for a year (Both blush a bit)

Philly: So tell me what...

Giant Mechanical shark: (Breaks through the skylight)

Glomgold: Oh good the entertaiment is here EVERYONE COME WATCH SCROOGE DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH!

Scrooge and Philly: (Sighs) Every year flinty)

Glomgold: I spared no expense! Bwahwahahha

Owlson: Did you spend our entire entertainment budget on that clunky contraption?

Glomgold: yes.. what else would I sepnd it on? It's also where our contribution went. The greatest charity begins with mechancial sharks.

Owlson: of all the..

Philly: STUPID, WASTEFUL, USES OF MONEY. (Rolls up her sleeves) Excuse me one moment (Storms over and picks up the shark with her bare hands and starts hitting glomgold with it, punctating every hit with a word) THAT. MONEY. WAS. FOR. THE. CHILDREN. YOU. SELFISH. EGOCENTRIC. FAKE BEARDED.

Glomgld: this beard is r

Philly: I'M. NOT. DONE. GROTESQUE. MOCKERY. OF. A. DUCK. BEING!

Owlson: (In awe)

Scrooge: (Smirking) She's single you know)

Owlson: I wasn't.. it was purely in a professional sense. You need to stop stealing horderves

Scrooge: I'm helpnig pay for them! Besidess I'll give you her number if you look the other way.

Owlson: (Hands him her phone in defeat)

[raidbossmadi]

People Like Us: What’s in your Head

If we were to step into your characters' psyche, what would it look like?

Sloane 

When you enter Sloane’s psyche you step into a vast forest, trees so large you cannot see their tops and canopies so thick you cannot see the sky between them. However this forest is neither dark or uninviting. Bird songs punctate the background noise and you can hear a stream somewhere in the distance. Walk for long enough and you’ll eventually stumble on the old cabin Sloane called home on Eden-4. You can find the present version of herself there tending to her daily business, Persephone curled up in the corner of the room watching Sloane work.

Just outside the cabin is an impossibly large painting sitting on an easel, on it the world turns into childish scribbles. If you approach it you’ll find that not only can you step into it but when you do you also turn into a childish scribble version of yourself. Sloane’s childhood lives inside this easel, the innocent young girl who never knew she was going to become a Siren. You’ll find that this part of her psyche operates a lot like a children's picture book,Child Sloane doesn’t think in words she thinks pictures, concepts, colors. Mommy and Daddy are green and calm one moment but can turn red and angry. Things grow and shrink here with little regard for actual proportion. If you encounter Child Sloane she’s very trusting, she assumes you're a friend. You are a friend? Aren’t you?

Or perhaps you see the stone bricked path leading to the right of the cabin, as you walk down it the sound of the forest disappears and a thick fog covers the sides of the path. The only way to go is forward. If you look out into the fog you might be able to make out the shape of something you aren’t sure what and it never gets any clearer. All you know is it is massive, it is ancient, and it is sleeping. You stay on the path and soon enough you’ll be in the dream of Vanagard, an old abandoned temple with a fountain in the middle that runs despite all logic saying it should have stopped years ago. Leda and Steele can be found here sitting on the edge of the fountain or walking around the temple proper. You get the feeling that this is something you could never fully comprehend, but you feel at peace here. Steele will not talk to you, you are not Sloane, She is here for Sloane. Leda is more chatty, you get motherly vibes from the moment you start talking to her, she wants to know what your relation to Sloane is, oh you’re friends? Make sure she’s not working too hard, she’s doing her best.

Maybe the sounds from just beyond the forest call to you and walk abruptly into the Pandoran desert. There are so many people here, a crowd that stretches on forever and they are loud. They turn to you, their eyes are flowers and vines spill out of their mouths yet still they talk, still they beg for absolution. You press on through the never ending crowd until you meet a wall, the Cathedral of the Twin Gods towers over you and towering over it are two silhouettes the only defining features on both red and blue siren markings.

“What’s the Password?” Shadow Tyreen asks her mouth full of razor sharp teeth, you stumble and guess things you know are important to Sloane, Flowers,Vines, Persephone.  Shadow Troy laughs gilded fangs ever present. “There is no password shitweasel, but good try.”  His mechanical arm lifts you up by the scruff of your shirt and puts you over the wall. You realize now the wall has no gate, the only way in was to be brought over by the shadow twins, they are protecting the temple only they decide who goes in or out.   Inside the temple things are much more welcoming, the people have faces and you recognize them. They wear the outfits of temple priests but their all Sloane’s friends, you see yourself among the priests and get a feel for what Sloane’s idealized version of you is like, it's all your best qualities. You walk into the throne room, it’s bathed in pink light and upon the dais sit idealized versions of Tyreen and Troy. It’s a little off putting to be fair, these are manifestations of what Sloane loves about each twin, they are far far friendlier than either twin would ever be in real life. Tyreen says things like “Dear brother, would you mind fetching Sloane, she’s running late for our date.” batting her eyelashes and talking in a too sweet tone. Troy is much the same, there's no tension here no anger or sadness. Everything in this temple is the best of Sloane’s life since joining the CoV and it’s welcoming enough you almost don’t want to leave.

But when you do and find yourself back at the cabin, it’s probably for the best that you don’t investigate the gated garden, as you step towards it the sky darkens and a chill runs through you. This gate creaks open and if you ignore your better judgement and enter anyway you’ll find that the garden is overgrown, weeds and giant thorny vines have taken over what was once clearly a vegetable garden. Continue on and you’ll watch as the vines destroy and overtake anything in their path.  You come across a young Sloane covered in cuts and scrapes.

“I don’t wanna go! Don’t let them take me!” she cries but as you reach to protect her the vines spring from behind wrapping around her legs and midsection pulling her kicking and screaming back into their mass.  Continue forward and you find bodies of scientists wrapped in the tangle, syringe or scalpel still in hand. “This is for your own good.” you hear them say as you walk past along with Sloane’s protests. You will continue to encounter the young Sloane desperate for you to save her but the vines will always win.

Eventually you come to a throne of thorns towering over the landscape,built on the bodies of all the people she’s ever killed, and on the throne, literally one with it, her legs lost in the tangle of vines sits the queen of thorns; Sloane but her markings replaced with thorny vines that cut into skin and bleed constantly. This seems of little consequence to the queen of thorns who merely laughs and fills her chalice with the spilling blood. Her smile shows gilded fangs and when you look her in the eyes, you know that all she wants is to see the world burn. To see humanity laid low for its treatment of her.  But she cannot leave the throne, it is her prison and you feel  safer knowing that this creature, this aspect of Sloane will never see the light of day.

Tyreen

Entering Tyreen’s psyche is entering a place that you cannot easily make sense of. It is a vast Eridian ruin with hallways that curve upwards and stairs out of Escher painting. 

In the center you find Tyreen sitting idly on a sofa that looks entirely out of place. She’s picking her fingernails or her nose, being casual really. What’s really off putting is the fact that every so often an image of Nyriad flashes into existence around the room. She doesn’t say anything but she’s there just long enough to unnerve you. 

If you follow a hallway long enough it’ll lead you somewhere, like Nekrotafeyo. Hostile and cold, the mantas are three times larger than they should be but when they get near you they turn to dust. Young Tyreen sits outside the ramshackle shack her parents built poking bugs with a stick. If you go inside the world turns grey and you feel a tangible sadness wash over you. Leda and Typhon sit vigil at the sides of a bed and in the bed, a sickly young Troy. He’s so small, and he’s getting smaller and smaller. 

You go back outside Tyreen’s a teenager now and Troy’s there too despite having just been in the house. He’s chained to her at the wrist she looks at it and promises she’ll find a way to get it off, that they’ll be free one day. 

Again if you look closely enough around the edges, Nyriad steps in and out of existence.

Or perhaps you see the neon city of Promethea stretching upwards higher and higher. Do the buildings ever stop? People walk past, they walk through you, you don’t exist to them. Tyreen sits on the street corner begging for food, shelter, for help. No one notices her. 

Again Nyriad flickers into being. 

The way to the great stone temple of Vanagard is shattered. You can still walk the steps but they are shaky and uneven. The fog is thick here and in it you can hear the pained noises of a creature beyond. The temple is shattered in two when you get there, literally half of it flowing into oblivion.  

“Not your fault... Shouldn’t be like this...We aren’t a monster…” The words of Nyriad fade in and out. She’s more solid here than anywhere else but you can tell she can’t stay in one place. Her image flickers and vanishes when you try to get close to it. 

Beyond the sofa that Tyreen sits on in the middle of her mind scape is a door and when you open it the darkness of the ruins is bathed in golden sunlight. You walk in and find a room made of gold. Women nude save for their faces which are covered by the solid white masks of the handmaidens. They lounge on daybeds and chaise lounges holding grapes and offering them to you. There is however one person with a visible face, Sloane, who sits demurely on a throne dressed in a lavish gown. Everytime to you try to reach her though the throne gets slightly farther away. It’s not until she laughs at your attempts to reach her and approaches herself that you get any closer to her. Like she willingly has to choose to want to be close to you for that to be allowed to happen at all. 

The atmosphere changes when Sloane steps off the throne though, all the other women disappear, the gilded chamber turning to a comfortable house instead. 

You thought you were heading back to the main chamber but instead you find yourself in a black empty void. 

“T-Ty….help me.” You hear Troy call from all directions. His pain is palpable in the air.  You aren’t even sure what direction you're going in but the cries for help get louder. 

“You lied to me! You lied, again Tyreen!”

“No! That should have worked! Why didn’t it work? This was a mistake we never should have left…” you think that the space might be shrinking. You feel walls you can’t see closing in around you. Just before you can be compressed into a cube the blackness explodes. 

Towering above you is a massive vault entrance. An eye peers out of the vault inhuman and angry, the destroyer. Tyreen stands at the base of the vault  so small in comparison.  

“I understand. We could be gods. That would save Troy. Thank you.” She whispers to no one in particular. Nyriad stands behind her shaking her head frantically, her vision misinterpreted; she tries to touch Tyreen to get her to turn around but fades from existence before she can. 

You stumble out of the void you found yourself in and follow instead an iced over path walking down it you end up in a statue garden in winter. You look at the statues, they're all Tyreen’s friends and family. She sits in the middle of them all crying, she never wanted this to happen.  She reaches for the one of Leda, but it cracks and crumbles as she touches it. 

“Can you ever forgive me, mother.” 

Troy

When entering Troy’s psyche you find yourself in an editing room with only one computer turned on. Troy sits at it working away cursing under his breath. Something about nothing ever turning out quite the way he wants it to. If you try and approach he’ll put up a hand and push you away. Can’t you see he’s working?

A screen lights up despite being off a second before you walk towards it and fall into the screen. You’re on Nekrotafeyo, at least you think you are? Chunks of it open up in gaping holes in the sky and ground visual representations of the holes in his memory. They leak sweat and blood, it’s getting hotter out here. You have no choice but to run for the shack at the edge of it all.

Inside you are very small. An ant, while everyone else is so much taller, Typhon, Leda, a young Tyreen perched on the bed. All the giants speak in soft whispers.

“He’s getting sicker you know.”

“He’ll be alright.” Leda promises.

The temperature in the house is rising again. You climb the tree sized bed post to get to the top. You see Leda cradling her young son in her arms offering him her siren energy. The house begins to cool again things seem calm and serene almost. You’re no longer ant sized, you can make it out of the house again. The computer is waiting for you.

Falling back through the screen you notice things have changed, You’re on the bridge of the Centurion now. Troy stands next to his sister desperately trying to break free from the chain that binds them left wrist to left wrist it’s blue on her end and red on his.

“I don’t want to do this Tyreen! You lied to me! You lied to me then held this” he thrusts the chain at her. “Over my head. What kind of loving sister does that. Oh you’ll die if you don’t come with me, what the actual fuck Ty?”

“I… I didn’t mean it to hurt you. You don’t understand now but you will Troy, you will. This is for both of us.” Tyreen begs as she talks the chain morphs into a two headed snake sinking its fangs into both of them but neither seem to notice this.

The stone stairway is missing every other step and you have to take care not to fall into the fog. It seems hostile like it knows it should be here. The other half of the  Vanagard temple is here but it’s a collapsed heap on stone and rubble, the fog covering most of what remains. The broken half of the Eridian rune that sat above the door flickers with red light every so often but it is swallowed by the fog. Take care as you leave, you wouldn’t want to fall.

The cathedral is a medieval castle, with everyone in time period appropriate clothing. Peasants begging for an audience with their king, the broken and forlorn being allowed in to speak with him. You note that half  the castle staff are all disabled in some way but this does not seem to hamper them, they are valued here. You walk into the king’s chamber Troy sitting on a regal throne, a gilded crown on his head and a matching golden prosthetic replacing his oversized one.

“I’ll send what help I can.” He tells the serfs before sending them away. Tyreen is seated next to him though she’s snoozing away letting her brother deal with the diplomacy.

“Troy!” A high pitched voice comes from the window and in flutters a pixie Sloane who lands on his shoulder. “You’ve been working so hard all day, you should come out to the garden and relax.” She says in a singsong voice poking him on the nose.

He laughs and agrees with her, shaking Tyreen awake and then all heading out to the garden.

You try and follow after but find yourself instead in a junkyard. Hundreds of broken toys and robots all piled up on each other.

“Broken.” The wind whispers. “You’re broken. You will never be anything but a broken little man.”

Troy sits in the middle of it all, but only the left side of him. The right is a void that he claws at desperately.  The void pulls in anything to close to it including you as you try and get away but it takes you anyway.

You find yourself back in the editing room but now Sloane is there, perched on his desk. Sunlight shines from behind her as she smiles and asks what he’s working on. He answers and she laughs at the light spreading across the room enveloping him. Flowers start blooming in the cracks in the tile.

You get the feeling everything will be ok in the end.

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

Dear Universe

Read on Ao3

Summary: Logan doesn't have a lot to love at the moment. Other than stars and cats. But if he'll give it time, the universe will still be there, waiting for his second letter... Warnings: A vague mention of a character having once contemplated suicide. Very, very vague though. Also this made me soft which I think is illegal so warnings for the fic being a criminal Pairing: Logince Author’s note: I know I have a losleep fic to finish but... idk y’all I was just super soft and I had to do this instead. Tagging @rosesisupposes because that one post she reblogged inspired this, @blinksinbewilderment because it’s Logan-centric and not really angsty, and @inkskinned because the post that overall inspired this came from them 

    Dear universe,

    Hello. I am writing to inform you that you did a good job on the stars. Also on cats.

    Yours respectfully,

    Me.

    Logan glared at the note, simple and small and neatly scrawled on the back of an old envelope. It was stupid. It was rather sentimental as well. But some days there were only a few good things in the world, and on those days Logan had learned it was better to offer any resistance to the current than none.

    And today, if all he loved was the stars and his cat, then it was better to remember that then not. With a sigh, Logan tossed the envelope in a drawer.

    Well. He had tried that. Good thing he’d never have to do it again.

~~

    Dear universe,

    Logan’s hand paused. This was as silly as when he had done it five years ago. The fact that he had stumbled over the envelope on accident while deciding what was going to come on the move and he had been struck by the urge to give it a proper follow-up was illogical and foolish.

    And yet he had gotten the pen, gotten some paper, and begun the letter. Maybe it was foolish. Maybe that was alright.

    He lowered the pen back to the paper.

    I hope you are well since I last wrote. I assume things have changed for you. They have for me. I still love the stars. And while I still do love cats, I find a pull, now, to dogs as well.

    As if to punctate his point, there was a woof down the hallway behind him, followed by a quiet hiss and someone laughing. Logan smiled.

    I fear I left out a lot of things when I first wrote. Even back then, even on my worst days, I do believe there was more light than just the stars and cats, though they were (and always have been) quite bright enough to shine for themselves. It is largely thanks to them I am here now, in fact. Them and one other.

    The laughing died down, but Logan could still hear him moving, closing boxes and taking them outside. Logan could see him, too- how he always looked like he was being illuminated by sunlight, how his grin was bright enough to blind you, how he swayed his hips as he walked like he owned the place. He didn’t look real. And yet he was moving stuff out Logan’s crummy old apartment.

    The road there’s been… less than simple, however, to tread. I’ve stumbled. I’ve lost things that were important to me. I’ve lost hope. I’ve lost the light that metaphorically guides. I’ve almost given up more times than I’d care to recall. But as grim as the path has been to follow, I’ve learned a lot on it too.

    Logan paused again, listening to the almost inaudible murmur of wind outside the window and the light humming of the other man weaving into his room, the sound of the latter somehow going into his ears and making its way to his heart, where it happily settled.

    I’ve realized that we’re all children, really, no matter how old we get. We’re taking the little pieces we have and trying to build them into something beautiful, something, I suppose, worthy of you. Art and music, stories and poetry, dramas and plays, laughter and love and humanity. We looked at you and took pictures, studied them and magnified them and loved them. I have one of them as my desktop background. You looked even more extraordinary than usual that day.

    There were more scraping noises in the background, furniture being moved. The humming had progressed to whistling. Soon enough it would be singing, and if Logan wasn’t careful, soon enough there’d be two voices holding that chorus. A few years ago, that would have been Hell. But at the thought of it today, Logan just smiled bigger.

    I think… no, I am certain that you did a good job, universe; on the stars and everything they became, on space and the planets- on us humans, too. And, yes, oh yes things are terrible, but you made an innumerable amount of things worth loving, worth writing to you about, worth speaking of… worth thanking you for. And you gave us all a spark, and as long as it’s taken me to feel secure about mine, I’m using it now, to be fierce about what I care about and those I care for, and to be eternally gentle to them as well.

    The whistling melted into singing, just as Logan suspected. He strained his ears just the slightest before he identified the tune- A Whole New World. Logan remembered the first time the other had sung that song to him, so quietly and so unlike his usual dramatics, gently kneeling down next to a Logan who thought he had any chance hiding even his nearly silent sobs in a theater where every sound was reflected every which way…

    So... hello. I’ve come to amend my previous memo. I’m writing to let you know you did a good job on the stars, on cats and dogs and the lizard that is currently kept illegally in my apartment but will shortly be kept legally in my house. And universe, I hope you’re watching, because some of the people you created? They’re great, universe; they’re amazing and wonderful and full of love- endlessly sharing love and eternally worthy of receiving it. And despite all the times I’ve lost it along the way, despite how badly Life wishes to take it from me, those people give me hope.

    “Hey, Lo-love of my life.” Logan turned from his paper, towards the other man in his house- towards someone he fully believed to be a fallen star personified, with glitter in his eyes and love in his every touch, and a bright, shiny ring on his finger that Logan loved seeing so new but also couldn’t wait to watch it slowly grow weathered, old, worn and loved.

    “Yes, Roman?” He asked, tone unnaturally fond, even to just address the man he loved. Oh, it was foolish, yes, but that was alright.

    Roman jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ve finished with the living room. If you’re done with whatever nerdy, non-helpful thing you’re doing, I thought we could go get lunch?”

    “I’m just writing a letter. It’s not that nerdy.” Logan retaliated. Not that he really minded, given he was still smiling.

    Roman was smiling too as he came over and looped his arms around Logan, leaning down so they were decently at the same height from where Logan was seated. He didn’t try to glance at the letter, instead keeping his much-too-adoring gaze centered on Logan. “Still not very helpful.”

    “Well I don’t keep you around just to be eye candy, my dear.”

    “No, you keep me around because you love me.” Roman said, pressing a kiss to Logan’s cheek before pulling away. “I’m going to start the car. Be out soon, or I’m leaving without you.”

    “It will take you at least ten minutes just to locate the car in the lot.” Logan responded cheekily. “I believe I have time.”

    “Not my fault I can’t remember where I put things.” Roman said as he wandered back out, muttering to himself in his stage voice about an ungratefully perfect husband and too many cars being coloured red. Logan chuckled to himself and rose his pen one last time.

    And through them, universe, that’s you. That’s how the stars sing.

    Yours respectfully,

    Me.

    Logan folded the paper efficiently, slipping it into the envelope and slipping the flap in, shutting it. He left it on his desk, knowing he’d be back for it.

    And one of these days, he’d show it to Roman, show it to the man who was the reason behind the majority of the list, who was the reason behind why Logan felt the need to write a second letter to the universe, who was very possibly the reason why Logan was even around to write that second letter.

    And maybe that day would be tomorrow. And maybe that day wouldn’t be for another two dozen years. But he would; one day he would and he would only hope it could mean even half as much to Roman as it did to him, could only hope that the emotions he was still struggling to healthily express would be a fraction as clear to Roman as they were to him.

    One day he would, and maybe on that day he’d write another letter to the universe, and maybe he’d write a few even before then.

    Because Logan had a feeling there were going to be a lot more things worth thanking the universe for with every day that passed.

[gingeronheels]

Bergenbier S.A. incheie un parteneriat pe termen lung cu festivalul UNTOLD

Bergenbier S.A., parte a grupului Molson Coors Beverage Company, continuă dezvoltarea parteneriatelor strategice și încheie o colaborare de lungă durată cu UNTOLD, unul dintre cele mai mari festivaluri de muzică din lume. În ultimii ani, compania s-a concentrat pe construirea experiențelor de consum, muzica fiind un element important al principalelor mărci premium din portofoliul producătorului.

„Strategia Bergenbier S.A., pe care am amplificat-o începând din 2020, a adus în prim plan construirea parteneriatelor relevante pentru mărcile noastre, ceea ce ne ajută să oferim oportunități de creștere pentru clienți și experiențe noi, interesante pentru consumatori. Prin parteneriate devenim mai puternici și mă bucur să începem acest capitol pe termen lung alături de UNTOLD, unul dintre cele mai cunoscute festivaluri din țara noastră. În acest fel, facem pași importanți în a deveni producătorul din industria berii cu una dintre cele mai bune prezențe la festivalurile de muzică din țara noastră. De asemenea, sunt convins că această nouă colaborare va deschide orizonturi de dezvoltare atât pentru noi, echipa Bergenbier S.A., cât și pentru clienții și partenerii noștri”, a punctat Mihai Voicu, General Manager Bergenbier S.A.

Bogdan Rădulescu, Co-fondator și Chief Business Officer UNTOLD, a declarat: “Parteneriatul cu Bergenbier S.A. reprezintă o etapă importantă în strategia noastră de a redefini experiențele oferite participanților. UNTOLD a fost întotdeauna mai mult decât un festival – este o platformă care unește comunități și creează momente memorabile. Bergenbier S.A., cu tradiția sa în susținerea evenimentelor de anvergură și pasiunea pentru inovație, este partenerul perfect pentru a duce aceste experiențe la un nivel superior. Sunt încrezător că această colaborare va consolida și mai mult poziția UNTOLD ca unul dintre cele mai apreciate festivaluri de pe plan global, oferind participanților o combinație unică de muzică, distracție și gust premium.”

Noul parteneriat dintre Bergenbier S.A. și UNTOLD va începe oficial din 2025 și marchează capitolul zece al festivalului, fiind un bun moment de celebrare alături de mărcile premium din portofoliul producătorului. 

„Suntem încântați să începem acest parteneriat alături de UNTOLD, unul dintre cele mai mari festivaluri de muzică din lume. Suntem deja prezenți la 14 festivaluri de muzică, inclusiv Neversea și Massif și construim de ani buni experiențe memorabile pentru consumatori. Începând de anul viitor vom avea ocazia să venim cu toată experiența de până acum, dar și cu lucruri noi, surprize foarte frumoase pe care abia așteptăm să le facem publice. Întreaga echipă de Marketing lucrează intens pentru a avea avea combinația perfectă între muzică, bere premium și starea de spirit tipică festivalului UNTOLD”, a completat Victor Teioșanu, Marketing Director Bergenbier S.A.

Până la startul festivalului UNTOLD, consumatorii se pot bucura de berile premium produse și distribuite de producătorul de bere atât la Massif, cât și la Neversea.

“Suntem entuziasmați de acest parteneriat de lungă durată cu Bergenbier S.A., una dintre cele mai apreciate companii de bere din România. Colaborarea noastră reflectă angajamentul de a oferi participanților o experiență unică la festival și de a aduce mai aproape comunitatea pasionată de muzică și distracție. Bergenbier S.A., cu tradiția sa de a aduce un gust deosebit și de a susține evenimente de anvergură, se alătură UNTOLD în această aventură pentru a crea momente memorabile și pentru a adăuga o notă de răsfăț fiecărui participant. Suntem încrezători că acest parteneriat va aduce o serie de activități și experiențe inovatoare, consolidând încă o dată reputația UNTOLD ca un festival de top, în care fiecare detaliu contează. Împreună, UNTOLD și Bergenbier S.A. vor transforma festivalul într-un eveniment de neuitat, plin de energie, muzică de calitate și momente de neprețuit.” a declarat Flavia Gherman, Head of Partnerships UNTOLD Universe.  

Parteneriatul dintre Bergenbier S.A. și UNTOLD este unul de lungă durată, fiind o bună oportunitate de a crea experiențe noi cu fiecare capitol al festivalului, începând din 2025.

[maaarine]

Tim Ferriss:

“Can you think of a moment or situation in which you were experiencing acute anxiety or fear, and used mindfulness as an intervention?”

Sam Harris:

“It’s happening a lot in this circumstance.

The one I remember very clearly was at the beginning of my taking the COVID problem seriously, at some point at the end of February.

I had ordered an iPad some weeks before, when I was truly oblivious to what was going on.

When it finally came, I’m thinking thoughts like: how long does the virus live on a surface?

I see that this thing is freshly minted in Shanghai and sent to me after they’ve clamped down on the Wuhan problem. 

I don’t know what the likelihood is that I’m now opening a box of virus. But I’ve decided to open it after letting it sit for some days.

So I’m opening this box and I realize that I’m double-minded about it, in some ways just kind of in bad faith with the whole project.

On the one hand, I’m taking precautions. I’m wearing gloves, but I’m not wearing a mask.

I’ve decided to wipe this iPad down with alcohol wipes. So on some level, I’m treating it like medical waste.

But on another level, I recognize that I’m not doing this even remotely the way I would do it if I knew there was coronavirus in this box.

On some level, I’m kind of going through the motions, and I’m assuming that this is fine, and that I’m actually being crazy.

This is kind of a pantomime of preparedness as opposed to the real thing.

It is the experience of almost being double-minded. Like the person opening the box is not the whole person.

There’s another part of me looking on, saying that I’m not really doing this correctly, as evidenced by the fact that I’m standing in my living room, and my kids are like 15 feet away.

In a flash, I recognize: you’re acting like someone who thinks he’s overreacting; in bad faith, you’re not actually unified as a behavioral system.

At that moment, I just got kind of flooded with anxiety over the scope of the whole crisis.

How difficult it had been for me to convince myself that the problem was worth responding to.

How difficult it was going to be to change my own behavior, and for everyone around us to change theirs, to actually be effective.

At that moment, it was a really punctate experience of just cortisol.

Like: oh fuck, you do not have your shit together at all. I just felt like a complete fuck-up.

But from that moment onward, the anxiety is no longer useful.”

Tim Ferriss:

“The message has been delivered.”

Sam Harris:

“100% delivered. The only time it’s useful as any kind of holding pattern is when there’s still significant uncertainty about what to do.

Then anxiety is the thing that’s going to get you to keep focusing and figure it out.

But once you’re figured it out, there’s no reason to be adrenalized at all, as long as you know what you’re doing.

Mindfulness is really the method by which you can let go of it.

You notice the thoughts, the peripheral physiology of the felt sense of being anxious, and the connection between those things.

Once you just let the thoughts go and become willing to just feel the raw sensations of anxiety, the sensations lose their psychological import.

It just feels like indigestion, or itching, or a pain in the knee, or anything else that has no real meaning — it’s just sensation.

And it degrades over a half-life of seconds, it does not stay around long.”

MBTI: Sam Harris: INTJ, Tim Ferriss: ENTJ

Source: The Tim Ferriss Show: #433: Sam Harris on Psychedelics, How to Cope During a Pandemic, Taming Anxiety, and More