multipleohseas-a

[multipleohseas-a]

(( This blog is officially archived. I’m moving on to a multimuse, which I will send the link to a few select people, as it’s private now. ))

[multipleohseas-a]

(( This blog is officially archived. I’m moving on to a multimuse, which I will send the link to a few select people, as it’s private now. ))

[multipleohseas-a]

(( This blog is officially archived. I’m moving on to a multimuse, which I will send the link to a few select people, as it’s private now. ))

[multipleohseas-a]

(( This blog is officially archived. I’m moving on to a multimuse, which I will send the link to a few select people, as it’s private now. ))

[multipleohseas-a]

(( This blog is officially archived. I’m moving on to a multimuse, which I will send the link to a few select people, as it’s private now. ))

[multipleohseas-a]

(( This blog is officially archived. I’m moving on to a multimuse, which I will send the link to a few select people, as it’s private now. ))

[multipleohseas-a]

(( This blog is officially archived. I’m moving on to a multimuse, which I will send the link to a few select people, as it’s private now. ))

[multipleohseas-a]

(( This blog is officially archived. I’m moving on to a multimuse, which I will send the link to a few select people, as it’s private now. ))

[multipleohseas-a]

(( This blog is officially archived. I’m moving on to a multimuse, which I will send the link to a few select people, as it’s private now. ))

[multipleohseas-a]

(( This blog is officially archived. I’m moving on to a multimuse, which I will send the link to a few select people, as it’s private now. ))

[multipleohseas-a]

Send “Marry me!” to see my muse’s reaction to yours suddenly proposing to them!

Doesn’t matter if we’ve never interacted before!

[multipleohseas-a]

“I’m going to kill you,” the sidekick growled, knife pressed hard against the villain’s neck.

The hero smirked in the background, having successfully brainwashed the villain’s sidekick.

The villain winced at the sharpness of the blade. They looked to their hero. “Please. Call them off. I’ll do anything.”

[multipleohseas-a]

ducktales-wco-oo

{ ☆ } Fenton can feel everyone’s anxiety… Their fears and worry. The controlled chaos that lingers in the air, suffocating and overwhelming as he pads through the hospital corridors. It’s enough to cause the St. Benard/Pitbull mix’s tail to stiffen, the fluffy appendage swaying slightly from side to side. Ears are pushed forward, as well as the floppy things will allow, picking up every distressed sound, every cry of alarm or concerned whisper. Gaze alert and strides filled with purpose, he difficultly ignores these pleas in favor of finding his owner.  Last he saw her, Officer Cabrera was escorting a stretcher carrying an injured girl.

The poor creature had appeared to be in bad shape…

In the confusion, Fenton had been torn from his owner’s side. Cut off by doctors, nurses, and concerned patrons alike, the large dog had somehow gotten lost in the crowd. Even Fenton’s yellow Therapy Dog vest hadn’t managed to catch his owner’s eye as he was swept away in the conflict. But he holds no ill feelings about this; she had more pressing matters on her mind. Officer Cabrera blames herself for not reaching the girl sooner. Fenton can tell… Which is why he needs to reach HER as soon as possible, to help her feel better.

Halting in his tracks, ears raise and head snaps in the direction of despaired barks and whines. The frantic scritch-scratches of claws and the very faint scent of blood in the air— that his nose has been specially trained to detect —that cause his very fur to burn with urgency. With only a moment’s hesitation, body tensing and scruff bristling, Fenton sprints toward the distress. Weaving past a sea of human legs, Fenton’s runty demeanor— for the breeds he is supposed to be representing, at least —proves to be an asset, allowing him to make it through with little difficulty. But it doesn’t stop him from sliding along the tiled floor and ramming his nose unceremoniously into the wall… Good thing the glass is strong.

Sneezing at the impact, his nose having left a noticeable smudge on the surface, Fenton shakes his head, cheeks flapping and the tags on his lavender collar jingling. Once he is through, he notices the source of the commotion. Head tilting with interest at the small dog on the other side of the glass, beside the nearby door, he licks the large window— stretching from the floor almost to the top of the ceiling —as if he can reach them through the material. Trying to offer some form of comfort, that luckily for the other canine, can’t physically touch him. Lest he get covered with a heavy layer of drool. Well-meaning drool…

But drool nonetheless.

With a low ‘boof’ that causes his fluffy fur to shake from how it rumbles out his chest, Fenton walks over to the door and gives it a few sniffs, nudging it lightly with his nose… before abruptly slamming his front paws onto the surface. Standing on his hind legs, the heavy dog throws his weight onto the door. Hoping to at least cause it to momentarily swing open enough for the small dog to slip through before it falls back into place. Thrown off-balance when the door pushes open, Fenton’s paws slip off and cause him to stumble to the floor, chin smacking against the surface with a force that nearly makes him bite his tongue.

Still, despite the clumsy dog’s near injury, Fenton’s tail wags rapidly. Hitting the ground with heavy thuds, tongue lolls out as he pants with excitement at the sight of the door opening. Uncertain about the other’s reasoning for so desperately wanting to pass through it, but fully convinced that it must be GOOD, he licks his lips to lap up the drool that threatens to fall, another bark following suit to encourage and congratulate the stranger. { ☆ }

With a startled yelp, Dana jumped back at the sudden ‘thud’ of the much larger dog ramming into the glass. Fur fluffed out and back arched like that of a cat. The surprise was short lived however, when his odd-eyed stare continued to look on at the giant droolbag. The small dog went up cautiously to the door to sniff under it, only then to curl his lip and growl in warning.

Dana did not like other dogs. Especially the ones that were big enough to cause him  and his babygirl serious harm. He wasn’t completely naive, he knew if he were face to face with one of these giants, he’d be crushed to nothing. Unfortunately for him, that day would be coming sooner than later.

With another yelp, the door rammed into his own nose, sending the white fluff ball on his back with a less hard ‘thud’ in comparison to the St. Bernard mix, but hard for Dana never the less.

Yeah...he’s gonna feel that tomorrow.

Ever so stubborn, the white, oddly marked corgipoo quickly rolled onto his side, careful not to display any weakness to the strange dog before him. Without even so much an acknowldegement, Dana went off like a rocket past the St. Bernard, underneath the legs of many humans and used his snout to sniff out Rosalyn.

[multipleohseas-a]

Leah Penniman was told she wasn’t welcome, from her first day in a conservative, almost all-white kindergarten.

She enjoyed learning and did well, but she also found solace in the natural world.

Penniman later got a summer job farming in Boston, and she was hooked. She learned about sustainable agriculture and the African roots of those practices, but she also moved to Albany, N.Y., to a neighborhood classified as a food desert. To get fresh groceries from a farm share, she walked more than two miles with a newborn baby in a backpack and a toddler in the stroller, then walked back with the groceries resting on top of and around the sleeping toddler.

She made it her goal to start a farm for her neighbors, and to provide fresh food to refugees, immigrants and people affected by mass incarceration. She calls the lack of access to fresh food “food apartheid” because it’s a human-created system of segregation.

Penniman and her staff at Soul Fire Farm, located about 25 miles northeast of Albany, train black and Latinx farmers in growing techniques and management practices from the African diaspora, so they can play a part in addressing food access, health disparities, and other social issues. Penniman’s new book, Farming While Black: Soul Fire Farm’s Practical Guide to Liberation on the Land, details her experiences as a farmer and activist, how she found “real power and dignity” through food, and how people with zero experience in gardening and farming can do the same.

‘Farming While Black’: A Guide To Finding Power And Dignity Through Food

First photo: Jamel Mosely/NPR

Second photo: Neshima Vitale-Penniman/NPR

[multipleohseas-a]

Send 'rescue' for your muse to rescue mine from an unwanted suitor.

Or send ‘save me’ for my muse to save yours.

[multipleohseas-a]

(via)

[multipleohseas-a]

@ducktales-wco-oo | Dog Verse

As far as Dana was concerned, his sole life purpose was to look out for his human partner in crime Rosalyn, a foster kid who had more than once been in trouble with authority. The corgipoo was always there to keep bullies and ill-willed adults at bay no matter what the cost. He wasn't much of a threat at first glance, heck even his human had her doubts upon the first time she saw the muddied small dog during one of her runaways. However, time and time again he proved that his bite was worse than his bark, throwing himself into dangerous situations to save the life of his new friend. Even though Ros would even up back again in foster care, both girl and dog were insistant that they never were separated. Even if it was sometimes all the time a headache for the adults at these facilities.

However, today was a new challenge set before them that would test Dana's loyalty and patience.

It's been over an hour since they took Ros inside the hospital. It was typical for the girl to get into some scrapes, but never before had it been so bad that she was sent here. And never before had Dana been full of such anxiety, guilt snd worry over someone before. He should have just stayed with her instead of chasing after those birds in the park. It was too late by the time he arrived. He could still hear the screams, the shouts for help echoing through his mind.

Whining and barking, the little white dog scratched the door, helplessly begging for someone, anyone to let him in. His nails were being filed short, close enough to the wick where he'd bleed. His wet black and white nose nudged the door. If only he was strong enough...maybe if he kept at it enough the door would be left a crack.