#^farmer’s market goat :)

[cigarettehearted]

"Papa, I am soooo excited to meet who you'll be after you address your repressed trauma in therapy. Drink your kombucha, it'll help- my friend Paper made it!"

[torchickentacos]

[britishchick09]

rewrite christine with a baby goat! ^_^

[spiderziege]

i think my special talent is that if you gave me an array of different generic german supermarket wild-preiselbeeren i could easily figure out which one is ja!-brand

[rivrsin]

.

[averagepsychouser]

I like when factions are evil for no good reason but I do not like having to say that while I loathe the Enclave and Caesar’s Legion they’re my favorite factions

[questdesign]

god i just do not like living alone... my new apartment is awesome dont get me wrong but i'm still LONELY !!!!!!!!!

[redjukebox]

I want to be a cowboy so bad

Like I wanna wear the plaid button up shirts tucked into jeans with boots on and a big ol belt showing and a cowboy hat and I wanna have a little farm

Is that too much to ask for???

[bug-biscuits]

i suggest we go back to the old ways of judging people. no more fashion trends. no more being ugly or popular or pretty or a loner or anything. we judge you by how many goats you have. 0? loser. absolute buffoon. never step place in my fields again.

[vividbeast]

local man rediscovers for the 204739th time that if it stops going on social media and takes walks and eats properly and reads books instead of bedrotting for 24 hours straight its days off are actually Restful and Restorative

[mockiatoh]

My biggest frustration with the left has always been the inability/unwillingness to work on making progress inside of the system while advocating for greater change.

I remember the first time I came to this realization.

I was nineteen, pregnant. We couldn’t afford to heat the house because we couldn’t afford the deposit to turn the gas on. It was miserably cold. The duplex we were renting was old and rickety and drafty. The window frames were messed up and there were cracks you could stick your finger through that were open to the elements.

Just, like, to give you an idea where we were financially. And this was better than we’d been doing before!

Anyway, I had recently started going to DSA meetings. And that month, they were talking about how a moderate democrat had successfully gotten a small increase in WIC benefits monthly. It came out to, like, $10 a month.

The members talking—mostly male, almost all doing decent—were scornful. The democrat should have pushed harder and gotten more, refused to accept anything until everyone else caved to their demands. I remember sitting there, quietly drinking the latte in the smallest size they had that I had bought with scrounged quarters, listening. Wishing it wasn’t held in an indie coffee shop because it was a luxury I really couldn’t afford, but it would be rude not to. Enjoying the coffee anyway.

I was one of the lucky ones who was getting that additional $10 a month through WIC. Even more exciting, we were now getting a voucher for the farmers’ market. I casually mentioned that WIC recipients would now be getting farmers’ market vouchers, too.

The guy who organized the meetings was a hard worker, passionate guy. Did something in tech.

He was like, “That’s the thing! These people don’t want farmers market vouchers. They want—” and he went on to describe a bunch of pie in the sky desires. That, yeah, sounded good.

But one. I was one of those people! A lot if the tamiles were super excited about it, myself included.

I had never been to a farmers’ market before. I tried arugula for the first time, a piece pulled from a bunch by the grower as he explained the flavor difference. I hadn’t known before then that different lettuce greens had different flavors, that it was more than just the texture and shape. I tried pesto, which delighted me. Goat cheese. I got three full pounds of strawberries for two dollars, since they were closing soon and the old man selling the berries got a kick out of me.

Anyway. It was like, you have a decent life. Not great but decent! The things that are life changing for me, for us… you already have.

The ten dollars at the grocery store made the difference between a meal of broken-noodles-with-some-half-horrible-pantry-scraps and a meal. It kept me full and healthy! And the additional farmers’ market voucher was world changing for me.

The democrat who worked for those things barely got them through. And it was means tested to hell and back. They weren’t able to get everything they wanted. But what they got made such a huge difference for me, for people like me.

[cower-before-power]

Little buddies 🥰

[reasonsforhope]

Legit though, we should start turning ecosystem restoration and work to make our world more tolerant to the effects of climate change into annual holidays and festivals

Like how just about every culture used to have festivals to celebrate the beginning of the harvest or its end, or the beginning of planting, or how whole communities used to host barn raisings and quilting bees - everyone coming together at once to turn the work of months or years into the work of a few days

Humble suggestions for festival types:

Goat festival

Besides controlled burns (which you can't do if there's too much dead brush), the fastest, most effective, and most cost-efficient way to clear brush before fire season - esp really heavy dead brush - is to just. Put a bunch of goats on your land for a few days!

Remember that Shark Tank competitor who wanted to start a goat rental company, and everyone was like wtf? There was even a whole John Oliver bit making fun of the idea? Well THAT JUST PROVES THEY'RE FROM NICE WET PLACES, because goat rental companies are totally a thing, and they're great.

So like. Why don't we have a weekend where everyone with goats just takes those goats to the nearest land that needs a ton of clearing? Public officials could put up maps of where on public lands grazing is needed, and where it definitely shouldn't happen. Farmers and people/groups with a lot of acres that need clearing can post Goat Requests.

Little kids can make goat-themed crafts and give the goats lots of pets or treats at the end of the day for doing such a good job. Volunteers can help wrangle things so goats don't get where they're not supposed to (and everyone fences off land nowadays anyway, mostly). And the goats, of course, would be in fucking banquet paradise.

Planting Festival and Harvest Festival

Why mess with success??? Bring these back where they've disappeared!!! Time to swarm the community gardens and help everyone near you with a farm make sure that all of their seeds are sown and none of the food goes to waste in the fields, decaying and unpicked.

And then set up distribution parts of the festival so all the extra food gets where it needs to be! Boxes of free lemons in front of your house because you have 80 goddamned lemons are great, but you know what else would be great? An organized effort to take that shit to food pantries (which SUPER rarely get fresh produce, because they can't hold anything perishable for long at all) and community/farmer's markets

Rain Capture Festival

The "water year" - how we track annual rainfall and precipitation - is offset from the regular calendar year because, like, that's just when water cycles through the ecosystems (e.g. meltwater). At least in the US, the water year is October 1st through September 30th of the next year, because October 1st is around when all the snowmelt from last year is gone, and a new cycle is starting as rain begins to fall again in earnest.

So why don't we all have a big barn raising equivalent every September to build rain capture infrastructure?

Team up with some neighbors to turn one of those little grass strips on the sidewalk into a rain-garden with fall-planting plants. Go down to your local church and help them install some gutters and rain barrels. Help deculvert rivers so they run through the dirt again, and make sure all the storm drains in your neighborhood are nice and clear.

Even better, all of this - ESPECIALLY the rain gardens - will also help a ton with flood control!

I'm so serious about how cool this could be, yall.

And people who can't or don't want to do physical stuff for any of these festivals could volunteer to watch children or cook food for the festival or whatever else might need to be done!

Parties afterward to celebrate all the good work done! Community building and direct local improvements to help protect ourselves from climate change!

The possibilities are literally endless, so not to sound like an influencer or some shit, but please DO comment or reply or put it in the notes if you have thoughts, esp on other things we could hold festivals like this for.

Canning festivals. "Dig your elderly neighbors out of the snow" festivals. Endangered species nesting count festival. Plant fruit trees on public land and parks festival. All of the things that I don't know anywhere near enough to think of. Especially in more niche or extreme ecosystems, there are so many possibilities that could do a lot of good

[mushroomates]

the fellowship grocery shopping (modern au!):

frodo: has a list which he always loses halfway through shopping. tries to bring his own bags but they’re never enough, or he forgets them in the car and realizes mid checkout. does not like a lot of the name brand foods, goes for the knock offs- partly because he thinks they taste better and partly because he’s rooting for the underdog. (also they’re cheaper which means more money go towards buying treats for the neighborhood cats.) makes an exception for name brand strawberry poptarts, a pippin favorite. keeps his fridge stocked with snacks for his friends.

sam: grows a lot of his own produce and makes an effort to shop local. has his own chickens and a thriving herb garden. he often trades with neighbors-tomatoes for honey, basil for goats milk, etc. once a month he teams up with boromir and goes to costco for insane amounts of flour (he bakes his own bread) and a foot long hotdog. sam refuses to get his own membership.

merry: has a list of things to get that he has worked very hard to compile. this list stays on fridge, and whenever he runs out of something he adds it. this is always sabotaged by pippin who, in a port attempt to mimic merry’s handwriting, adds a copious amount of sweets and things only pippin likes. ends up buying them anyways only to not share with him- will gloat by snacking in front of pippin and not offering any to his cousin.

pippin: does not actually grocery shop. yes, he has food in his house but this is more because he just tags along whenever someone else is going. selectively copies whatever they get into his own basket. has eight jars of peanut butter because he loves peanut butter but does not consume it at the rate he believes he does. also for backup, incase he runs out mid sandwich and needs eight jars of the stuff. loves to ride in the shopping carts when no one’s watching. definitely scooters along isles. loves to hijack boromir’s shopping trips as boromir is the only one who will push him in the cart and give him a lil treat at the end.

gandalf: kind of just. wanders around the store. gets lost in the bakery. buys the most random things, causing the clerks to conspire about what he’s doing with two packs of rubber gloves, a rosterseie chicken, and a tub of mayonnaise. is he a murderer? a professor? a single mother? what is he doing with this stuff?

aragorn: does a lot of trading with neighbors, like sam. likes to accompany arwen on errands and do the little things. she points at an item and he puts it in the basket. he bags at checkout. drives her home. unloads the car and put it away. real quality time and acts of service. yes, arwen is capable of doing these things herself, but he likes to do it for her: hunts so be always has a surplus of jerky, does need to buy more salt then the typical person.

boromir: also hunts. has a thing about using every part of the animal, will eat bone marrow straight out of the femur with a spoon for breakfast. eats a lot of protein. is real big about no food waste and will use everything he can. has his own compost bin and a humble herb garden. likes hosting barbecues for everyone, and makes the burgers and hotdogs from scratch. every other tuesday is grocery day. he goes to costco and buys his things in bulk. he’s the only one in the fellowship with a costco card and everyone loves to take advantage of it.

legolas: mainly just happens upon farmers markets and grabs what appeals to him in the moment. does not have any seasonings or cooking oil as it’s not something that’s ever really occurred to him to buy. will forget he has food in his fridge for weeks and when he finally does it’s gone bad. this, however, does not stop him from eating it. makes a lot of smoothies.

gimli: has a lot of preserved foods and a cupboard dedicated to emergencies. owns a lot of canned beans, fruits and vegetables- anything that will keep well. has a freezer filled with food in his garage with backup stock. is a very good with coupons- pippin likes going with him just to see the total (and the clerks jaw) drop. eats a lot of trail mix and jerky. enjoys fresh fruit when he can but doesn’t like to buy it because it doesn’t last.

gollum: sneaky little man. he hides in the bottom part of the carts meant for heavy items and parties his way across the store with his hands, scooting along tile and grabbing anything with reach, tossing it back up to the cart and continuing on his journey. then he just rolls right out the door. no one can stop him.

[michibap]

post nap w/ ted

not even going to defend myself, peace and love

TW: fem reader, dacryphilia if u squint

nsfw below the cut

-ted dragging you out of bed at the asscrack of dawn so you guys could hit this farmer’s market he’s been hearing about

-blowing a stupid amount of money on artisanal coffee, freshly baked pastries and this fancy oatmeal goats milk soap?? idk

-along with some fancy farm fresh veggies and a nice cut of meat that the two of you agree to cook together for dinner 😋

-and you held out strong for most of the afternoon, you really did

-but by the time 2pm rolled around, you were fighting for your LIFE

-so obvi you convince him to join you for a girlnap

-shucking your pants and eagerly crawling under the cool comforter

-lifting ted’s side and looking at where he stands fiddling with his phone expectantly when he doesn’t immediately join you

“One sec, ‘m setting a timer.”

-he rolls his eyes when you groan, setting his phone on the nightstand before crawling in after you

“Whine all you want, you’ll be thanking me when you’re not waking up at 3am because you fucked up your circadian rhythm again.”

“Yeah whatever, nerd.”

-letting out a content hum as he drags you towards his chest, heavy arm settling over your waist

-warm palm slipping under your shirt to rest on your stomach, thumb absentmindedly stroking over soft skin

-he takes a little longer to slip off into sleep than you do, but once your breathing evens out, the slow rise and fall of your chest and soft puffs of breath rhythmically brushing over the arm he has tucked under your head lulled him to sleep

-he’s jolted awake by his alarm what feels like three minutes later, grumbling and removing himself from you so he could turn off the obnoxious sound he had chosen

-once the offensive sound is silenced, he leans over and runs a gentle hand over your hair in an attempt to wake you up, laughing when you grumble and swat him away

“C’mon, gotta get up.” he mumbled, cupping your shoulder and gently shaking you

“Nooooooo,”

“Baby.”

“Please don’t make me.” you whine, turning to hide your face in his chest, clinging to the front of his shirt

-he huffs and rolls his eyes, despite the fond smile spreading across his lips

“Fine. Five more minutes, and I mean it.”

-you relax again, content to rest against him

-until you hear the GRATING sound of him scrolling through instagram reels at an obnoxious volume

-lifting your head and blearily glaring up at him when he watches another video about how to get the perfect crust on a steak

-he only grins at you and presses a chaste kiss to your forehead before continuing his scrolling

-you huff and squish your cheek to his chest, looking up at him as he focuses on the little screen, watching the videos through the reflection of his glasses

-he glances down at you for a moment, lips spreading into a coy grin as he looks back at his phone

“You got a problem?”

-you only hum, shifting to bring a hand up to paw at the side of his face and pull him in to plant a kiss on his plush lips

-he hums back, smiling into it for a moment before pulling away, gently grabbing your wrist to pull your hand away from his face

“Three minutes.” he sings

-you frown and bring your hand back up to cup the side of his face, and he gives you an exasperated look

“What do you want?”

-he laughs when he feels you pulling him back in for another kiss, though it trails off into a surprised noise when he feels you nip at his lower lip when he tries to pull away again, hand sinking back to knot your fingers into his hair

-despite his confusion, it doesn’t take him long to drag you on top of him, eagerly sitting up to meet you in another kiss, hands placed firmly on your hips to keep you close

-he sighs into your mouth when you grind down into his lap, grip going tight enough to bruise when you take the chance to slip your tongue into his mouth

-you make a pleased noise and bring your arms to wrap around his neck, drawing him impossibly closer as you keep your lips slotted to his own

-a surprised yelp is drawn from his throat when you use your hold on him and draw the both of you down, using the momentum to pull him on top of you and locking your legs around his waist

-he looks down at you, bewildered

-you only give him a coy smile of your own, a little breathless as you shuffle to get more comfortable underneath him

-you make to drag him back down for another kiss, frowning when he remains hovering over you, leveling you with a suspicious glare

“What?” you laugh, though it awkwardly dies when he only narrows his eyes

“You’re trying to trick me into staying in bed.”

-he watches a guilty smile spread across your lips,

“‘s it working?”

-he tries to glare, but he can’t stop a grin from spreading across his lips,

“I could use a little more convincing…”

-it’s your turn to sigh when he descends for another kiss, forcing your lips open with his own and licking into your mouth

-pitching up into a whiney moan when you feel him grind against you, hardness dragging mouthwateringly against your clothed mound

-tilting your head as he moves to trail wet, open mouthed kisses down the column of your throat, free hand coming to paw at your chest over your shirt

-gasping when his hips meet your own in another hard grind

-he groans and pulls away to sit up, struggling to catch his breath as he looks down at you

“So fuckin’ pretty for me,” he panted out, slipping one hand under your shirt and slowly dragging it up, warm palm leaving goosebumps in its wake

-he lets out a please sigh once your shirt is bunched under your chin, bare chest on full display , nipples pebbling after being exposed to the cold air

-you can’t do much more than whine as he meanly pinches at one of your nipples, chuckling to himself when you arch into his touch

“This what you wanted, sweetheart?” he crooned, condescending and sweet

-his brows shot up when you shook your head with a small frown, reaching to paw at the hem of his sweats

“Wearin’ too much.” you mumbled, looking imploringly up at him through your lashes

“Oh, am I?” he teases, lips curling into an entertained grin

-you scowl with a blush,

“Yeah, ‘s what I said, jackass.”

-your eyes go wide when your mouth is forcibly snapped shut by a large hand shooting up to grab your jaw, forcing your lips into a pout

“Watch it.” he warns lowly

-despite his stern tone, he still moves to push his sweats down his hips

-both of you laughing a little as he awkwardly shuffles to pull them off without getting off of the bed

-when he turns back to you, he sees you moving to pull your shirt over your head and darts out to stop you with a short “Aht!” and tugging it back down

-you give him a bewildered look when your head pops through the neckline,

“Keep it,” it’s more an instruction than a request

-you shudder as he runs a warm palm over your torso, flesh prickling in his wake

“Fuck, you look good.” he says more to himself than you, eyes intently roving over your form

-you move to sit up on your elbows, curiously looking down to see what he was talking about

-taking in your decrepit, stained garfield shirt bunched up over your tits and granny panties with an embarrassing damp spot forming over your center

“You serious?” you asked with a little laugh

-he only hums, hands moving back to your hips to drag you flush to him before hunching over to lave his tongue over the soft flesh of one of ur tits

-you sigh as he latches his lips around a nipple, carding a hand through his hair

-arching with the combined sensations of his warm, wet mouth and his hot, significantly more prominent erection rutting against the thin fabric of your panties

-ted pulls off of you for a moment, only to plant another trail of kisses up to the sensitive spot just below your jaw

-grinning at the sound of your moan right next to his ear, dragging his hips against yours again

“Y’ think you could cum like this?” he asks, voice lilting, giving you a sharp nip when you were too spacey to answer

“Please just fuck me,” you plead, growing needier the longer he rubs himself against you, sensitive with what little stimulation you were getting

“I am fucking you, baby.” he crooned, grinning when you yelp at a particularly good thrust and shifting to hit the angle a bit better

“Please, Ted, I- fuck-“ you’re cut off by your own whimper, whining dizzily when you feel a strong hand come back to your jaw and shake you a bit, bringing your attention back to the man looming over you

“Answer the question.”

-you sniffle, looking up at him with pleading, watery eyes

“I dunno.”

“You don’t know?” he parrots mockingly, lips curling into a wolfish grin when you let out a sobbing moan and buck your hips when he brushes a thumb over the growing damp spot on your panties

“I think you could,” he breathed “Probably pretty close already, aren’tcha, sweetheart?”

-you don’t have it in you articulate anything more advanced than some incomprehensible string of something vaguely similar to english, reaching to clutch at broad shoulders, nails digging into the soft fabric of his tshirt

-he leans down to give you another kiss, giving an appreciative hum as you moan into his mouth

-before reaching down to cup a hand under one of your knees and pushing it up and out of the way, foot uselessly dangling over his shoulder

-both of you moan when he slots his hips back to yours, new angle allowing him to drag his clothed head over the thin, damp fabric covering your clenching entrance, up to your pulsing clit and back down again

-you can’t do much more than hold on for dear life as he essentially fucks you over your clothes, pleading for him to actually fuck you between sloppy kisses and strings of moans

-your begging fell on deaf ears, not getting much more than a gritted “You’ll take what you fucking get”

-you’re shoved tumbling towards the edge first, thrashing a bit in ted’s grip

-you’re promptly pinned down by strong hands, keeping you still for him to rut against, unable to do much more than ride through it as you experience one of the most conflicting orgasms of your life

-caught between being far too sensitive and raw from the constant rubbing of damp material, and far too under-stimulated after not being properly touched

-either way, all you can do is tremble as he ruthlessly “fucks” you through it, meanly dragging himself over your sensitive, twitching sex

-he finishes with a guttural groan, quickly muffled by him sinking his teeth into the skin of your collarbone

-a puff of breath is forced from your chest when he collapses on top of you, pressing his face to the crook of your neck as he worms his arms under you to crush you closer

-you allow him to cling for a moment before uncomfortably shifting, sticky underwear becoming less arousing more icky

“Alright, git. I wanna shower.” you mumble, patting his back

-you roll your eyes when he groans, deflating further into you

“Don’t wanna.” he mumbled petulantly

“Dude, you just splooged your fuckin’ pants. Get up and take a shower with me.”

-he lifts his head to glare at you, cheeks still flushed, hair all over the place after having ran your hands through it

“You splooged your pants.”

“I am painfully aware.”

-he laughed a little, resting his forehead on your collarbone as his shoulders shook before bringing it back up and giving the outside of your thigh a pat

“Alright, let’s go.” he secedes, crawling backwards off of the bed, dragging you by your ankle once he’s stood at the end

“Maybe you can splooge somewhere other than your pants in there,” you simper, laughing when he gives your cheek a rough pinch,

“Watch it.”

[hawnks]

My neighbor makes tamales. She brings over a bunch of them all at once. I’ve never had a tamale before (I know, I know), so I look a up a tutorial video. I imagine Sara in her downstairs apartment, soaking corn husks, kneading dough. I’m not much of a cook myself, I can’t offer her anything in return. It doesn’t matter. Every once in a while she stops by with another big bag of them, tells me about their fillings, the day she’s had, how her mothers doing.

She doesn’t know that some days I forget to buy groceries, or forget to eat altogether. She doesn’t know that food has always been a sacred, scary thing to me, that every time I open up one of those husk wrappers, steaming and full, it saves me a little.

The woman running the soap stand at the farmers market doesn’t have any customers, so I ask her a million questions about her process. She tells me she learned the old fashioned way, from the farmer down the road. No one would ever talk to her because she was so mean, except the soap maker. So the farmer taught her everything she knew, how to patch a roof, how to raise a goat, how to make soap and stew and blankets. She rubs lotion into my hands. It smells like lavender and warm earth. Yesterday my knuckles were so dry, they cracked.

In the downpour, three different cars pull over, ask me if I need a ride. I’m just a block away, I’ll be fine, I assure them. They still linger before driving off.

At the bus stop, I talk to a woman who tells me her woes. She’s smiling, but near tears. I pull out the tiny, rose quartz heart that’s in my pocket. I carry things like that with me, nicknacks, stickers. Trinkets I can hand out like trick-or-treat candies. She asks me, inevitably, like they all do, “Why do you have this.”

Because my neighbor makes tamales — but I can’t say that. “Just in case,” I tell her.