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m1d-45 · 2 years

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from soil….

summary: albedo has learned many things, and yet sometimes it feels like he knows nothing at all.

word count: 3.9k

-> warnings: massive spoilers for albedo lore… bottom text

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yum1x || @esthelily

< masterlist > || part 2 >>

as a synthetic human, albedo wasn’t raised as most were. he was ‘born’ fully grown, the shaky knees that let him stand those of an adult. rhinedottir hadn’t wasted any time, immediately beginning his training in various forms of alchemy from the moment he was oriented enough to try and speak.

he was taught the periodic table before he was told the names of colors, he was told how to tell which solvent was best for an experiment before he even understand the nature of his creation. he could recite the best methods for creating hydrogen gas by heart, he knew how to make carbon dioxide go supercritical and even experimented with ferrofluids on the side, but he didn’t know what it meant to be ‘burned’ until curiosity got the better of him and he put his hand over a flame.

he was told not to, like so many other things embedded in his memory, but never why. he knew fire was hot, of course, but.. even as his hand jerked away of its own accord, he found himself wondering what the odd feeling under his skin was.

rhinedottir was disappointed to learn of what he’d done, but had simply given him the instruction of ‘don’t hurt yourself, it’ll set you back.’

‘hurt’. thats what this was?

as he waited for his ammonia to drip into the iron solution, he picked through the many bookshelves in the room. many were scientific texts, with a few encyclopedias, but he wasn’t looking for those.

pulling down the lone dictionary with his now-bandaged hand, he flipped through the pages, keeping an eye on his experiment in his periphery as he did so.

hurt

(v) cause physical pain or injury to

(adj) physically injured

(n) physical injury; harm

how strange…

he shifted the book in his hands, staring at his wound through the bandages. carefully flexing his hand, he stopped right on the cusp of something sharp, the skin of his hand… was hurt.

albedo continued to read through various definitions, his experiment shifting in color to a dark brown without his notice.

why would he divert his attention from something so thrillingly new?

albedo was no longer a stranger to pain.

it took him far too long to realize he should probably be buying borosilicate glass equipment to handle the sort of experiments he was carrying out, only ever noticing when his third watchglass cracked under the heat of manganese heptoxide. his hands were permanently covered in little nicks, each carefully wrapped in bandages as to not get anything into them, some deep enough to scar but most barely enough to annoy.

slowly, he began to learn. he learned the safest ways to clean up shattered glass, he learned how to wrap his dominant hand and had become somewhat ambidextrous as a result. he learned when he needed to stop and take a break before he got a headache, he learned to tell when his hand was cramping from notes and took the time to practice with his other. pain was no longer unfamiliar, but it was still just as strange.

he was learning.

though he didn’t fully understand why this wasn’t taught to him, why he wasn’t told how to make a salve for burns or given a set of gloves to prevent it happening in the first place… he sort of could see why he wasn’t. pain was the result of failure, of a broken piece of equipment or a too-hot burner. it made sense.

did it?

he carefully poured water into a beaker, not paying attention to the conversation behind him. one of rhinedottir’s friends was over, as was becoming increasingly common, and he’d stopped listening once it turned to her daughter. a few compounds caught his attention, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted. the ratio of acetone and water had to be just right, and he was nearing the balance point, the solution fizzing less and less with every addition.

“she’s quite the- klee, don’t-”

without warning, something heavy crashed into albedo’s back. the bottle in his hand tipped and jerked, splashing into and over the rim of the beaker. the heater beneath it hissed as the ice cold water dripped down the side, and though he stood quickly, reaching to unplug it, it was too late. sparks flew as the wiring shorted, the red glow of the plate beginning to fade.

something hot and sharp rose in his chest, buzzing in his hands, the air turning thin. his jaw tightened with the feeling, the cord in his hand biting into his palm.

he’d knocked over his stool in his haste, and beside it was a small child, wide red eyes staring up at him. with bright blonde hair and long, pointed ears, it was clear she was the woman’s daughter.

and she had ran into him.

the woman—alice, his mind supplied, though he didn’t quite hear it—crouched besides her, pulling her up and dusting off her clothes, “klee! what did i say about running in the lab? you know it’s dangerous.”

rhinedottir sighed, leaning against the wall and looking at the failed experiment. “another failure…”

the sharp spikes of feeling turned on him in an instant, and the cord fell from his hand in surprise. he didn’t mean to mess it up! it wasn’t his fault klee was running around! why was he to blame?

“gold, it’s not his fault. i should have watched klee closer.”

“nonsense. he shouldn’t have even been using a bottle. pipettes are much more precise, and if he wished to have any sort of credibility to his findings, he should have used those to better track how much he was putting in. ‘add water until it stops foaming’ isn’t much of an instruction, you know.”

alice stood, some sort of response already forming in the draw of her brows, but albedo turned towards his mess. his hands shook as he moved the too-full beaker to a bin, the heating plate heavier than usual. he ignored the increasingly heated conversation behind him, letting his hands go through the familiar motions of disposal. his chest felt heavy, an odd pulse between his ribs reminding him of the reason he was wiping water off his desk.

he didn’t hold it against the girl, of course. she was too young to even be thought of chastised, and… rhinedottir was right. he probably should have used a pipette to add the water, or at least something less volatile than an open bottle. after this long, he should have known.

his vision blurred, the wad of towels in his hand washing into one mass. he threw the towels into the trash, his free hand coming up to wipe at his eyes. had vapor gotten into them? that wouldn’t be good if that were the case, but though they stung it wasn’t as sharp as it would be from chemicals.

albedo wiped up the last of the water, absentmindedly wondering why his chest ‘hurt’ if he hadn’t been injured.

alice visited often, usually bringing her daughter along as well. he wasn’t sure why, as she was surely too young to learn much in the way of alchemy, but she evidently had learned not to run in the lab, thankfully. she sat on a stool at her mother’s side, carefully drawing in a small notebook.

albedo stood at the sink, doing his best to focus on removing the caked sediment from his glassware. alice was talking, again, telling a story of a place he’d never been or heard of, and his thoughts admittedly wandered when he wasn’t careful. he’d wonder about the knights she was talking about, the cavalry led by a man in frosted blue, and he glanced over his own outfit. plain white, as typical, but he wondered about the dye that would have been used. he always wore white—“easier to tell when you’ve spilled something,” rhinedottir always said—and his few attempts at making dyes always ended up splotched and uneven. how did they dye clothes? or did they dye the thread first? would that be more or less efficient? was it harder to work with dyed thread, maybe, because it could wear during the weaving process?

curiosity bubbled within him as he rinsed off a stir rod, scraping off the leftover sediment with his nail. it would take too much time and space to try what he was thinking, not to mention that he didn’t even know how to go about it, but…

he turned to put it on a towel and paused, seeing klee looking up at him from her stool. she waved, shyly, pen tucked against her palm, and he hesitated for a moment before waving back. it was small, barely a raise of his fingers as to not draw attention, but she lit up anyway. her feet kicked against the stool in excitement and she hid her smile in her sketchbook, and albedo felt his own begin to form. he felt warm, a gentle feeling starting to rise. he tried to pin it down, running over the list of emotions he’d learned, but it didn’t match. it wasn’t the sharp, white-hot spike from when he’d ruined his hot plate, nor the slow but insistent press of curiosity. he felt… soft, almost, a delicate heat pushing him to smile back, gently-

“albedo.“

the sharp call of his name scattered the feeling like fish recessing deep into a lake, repulsed by the word.

rhine had cut off alice, evidently, the latter’s hands still raised mid-gesture.

“are you finished? why are you looking at klee like that?”

though it didn’t show on his face, albedo felt as confused as alice looked. her hands had moved to her sides, eyes flicking between the two of them with an odd twist to her mouth.

albedo swallowed something cold and bitter, taking a breath. “like what?”

he tried to put as much genuineness into his words as he could, but rhinedottir just shook her head.

“you know how.”

“i-“

“get back to work, albedo.”

she looked away, cutting the conversation short despite the argument still on his tongue.

he didn’t know. she never told him. none of the books in his lab ever described what it meant to be alive, to feel, to grow. he’d read all of them, cover to cover and back again, but none of them described what he wanted to know.

albedo turned back to the sink, wondering if there was a name for the cold pit in his stomach.

the next time alice comes, albedo has the time to look and properly greet her. he doesn’t have anything important or time sensitive going on, simply waiting for a dish to crystallize, and it was clear that the short wave he gave, pencil still in hand, had made her happy.

“hey albedo! what are you working on?”

almost subconsciously, his eyes flick to rhinedottir, searching for her approval, but she’s turned away, inspecting some random report on his desk. his chest feels cold as he lifts his sketchbook in lieu of a response. he’s drawn a cecelia, a kind of flower he saw on his last expedition, only ever growing near the top of a cliff.

he wonders of rhine would be proud of its accuracy, if nothing else.

“oh, a drawing?” klee seems to stand a bit straighter when she registers that the notebook in his hand is for drawing and not for research, and alice chuckles at her enthusiasm. “could we see?”

again, albedo seeks his master’s approval. he doesn’t find it.

he takes a quick look around the lab but knows there isn’t anything dangerous. the only active and open chemicals are the one in the beaker behind him, and that’s both well away from an edge and covered with a watchglass. so he nods, spinning his pen from his hand and into a pocket as they carefully move across the lab. he notes the caution with which klee steps over a fallen pen, the hand not in her mother’s tightly gripping her bag.

he tilts the book up for her to take—his heart had picked up at some point and he can see a quiver where his thumb digs into the binding, when did that happen?—but she just peers down at it from where she is, not reaching. it only takes a moment for something bright to reach her eyes, unfamiliar yet not unwelcome.

“cecelias, right?”

hesitantly, albedo nods. “i was exploring the eastern edge of mondstat, looking for valberries, but… i found these instead.”

she hums with a nod, her expression shifting slightly. “you need to go further north if you want valberries. cecelias grow on starsnatch cliff, and you want to go to stormbearer point.” albedo made a note to ask rhine where that was. “still, this is very impressive! the detail is remarkable despite not having a reference; you must’ve been blessed by the creator themself!”

her eyes glitter in a way that tells him it’s supposed to be something said in jest… but he doesn’t get the joke. behind her, rhinedottir’s head snapped up, eyes narrow, the report long discarded, and albedo takes the risk before his master can speak.

“who?”

alice’s face falls.

albedo looks over at klee for the nth time, checking that she was still happily doodling on her own paper. rhine had been swift to pull alice into a side room after her comment, so it was just them left in his lab. her, on the stool he’d offered her after her mother was pulled away, and him, still on the same chair he’d been for the past few hours. his pen felt cold in his hand despite the fact that he should have been producing more than enough body head to keep it warm, something… uneasy bubbling in his blood.

words pushed to the forefront of his mind, the same as they did every time he checked on klee, and this time he let them go.

“do you know who was alice talking about?”

she stops, the room falling silent as her pencil stills, and he feels oddly exposed in front of her wide red eyes. she reaches up to adjust her hat, the clover on it smudging lightly with graphite. “the creator?”

albedo nods. “rhine never calls people ‘creator’s of things, even masters of k-…. masters of alchemy are simply ‘alchemists’ to her. i’ve never heard of such a title before.”

klee pouts, stuffing her pencil into the rings on her notebook and settling it in her lap. between her fingers, he swears he sees something shaped suspiciously like a cecelia.

“the creator made everything! mama says that they are older than even her, and that they gave klee this!”

the stilted grammar of her words throws albedo off, but not as badly as when she reaches for her bag—nearly falling in the process—and unhooks a large glass-looking jewel inset in silver. it glitters red, a pattern of a flame engraved within, and he finds himself leaning closer. questions spring to his mind—‘how did you get it? what does it do? does it have a name? how is it made? how were you acknowledged by somebody so important at such a young age? is there even a significance to it at all? why doesn’t rhinedottir have one? does alice?’—but she speaks before he can voice them, voice unnaturally cohesive for somebody so young.

“i got my vision after i tried to make the biggest bomb ever!” after she what- “i made a mess out of my station… but mama says it’s okay! she helped me rebuild it and everything, and even stitched back on dodoco’s ear!” she points to a small plush charm hanging off her bag, leaving him with still more questions than answers.

“didn’t your mama teach you about them? why are you asking klee?”

albedo fell short.

was this something that parents typically taught their children? he supposed rhine would technically be his ‘mother’…. but even that was more in the literal sense. she was his mother as in she created him, but she was his master in that she taught him about and guided him through alchemy.

(but was that even for his sake? or was it hers?)

before he could say anything, alice had come back, a crease between her brows and a heavy frown on her face.

“come on klee, we’re leaving.”

klee quickly hooked the ‘vision’ back onto her bag and stuffed her notebook inside, slipping off the stood with a ‘bye bye albedo!’ before he even understood what had happened. her hand folded into her mothers, having crossed the room swiftly, free hand tucked under the strap of her bag.

alice gave albedo a long look, filled with a feeling he couldn’t begin to decipher, before her jaw set and the door opened, a wash of cold air sweeping in as they left.

rhinedottir nearly slammed open the door, shutting it just as harshly behind her, but albedo didn’t flinch from where he was weighing out sodium. she’d been returning from expeditions more and more irritated lately, the domains she’s been searching somehow turning up less clues each time. he’s not privy to her work, so he simply keeps his mouth shut, never offering his advice or help even when he knows it helps to talk puzzling things out.

he tapped his stir rod on the edge of his beaker, knocking off the excess solution, and listened to her go through her routine. boots off, shoes on, coat off, lab wear on. bag down, notes up, then the bang of her door.

he stifles a smile at her predictability. most of her actions are prescribed, a routine she likely follows unintentionally, but it brings him a small bit of comfort. she did the same things when she returned today as she did every other day, no mater the size of her discovery, retiring to her room to review her findings. he learned quickly to shut down any attention-sapping experiments as quickly as possible after she returned to be able to dedicate as much as he could to listening to her ramble, leaving space on his table for her diagrams. he rarely got a word in, but that just made him all the better listener, able to concisely say everything he wanted to in the moment’s space of her breaths.

with all of this in mind, he covered his beaker. the solution would be fine overnight, so long as it was chilled, and he was quite looking forward to tonight’s talk.

albedo stood from his stool and began to clean up, listening to the clock tick down.

a few hours later, rhine returns with a heavy sigh. he hears papers flap in her hands as she shuffles through them, the sound growing louder as she approaches. she sits in the chair he’d set out for her in preparation and drops her papers on the table in a messy pile, various diagrams drawn across them.

she picks out one seemingly at random, depicting a diamond-shaped sigil inset onto a large set of doors. a complex web of patterns wraps around it, ending on eight smaller sigils. below the diagram, she wrote out a quote, presumably the one inscribed across the top of the door, “when seeking those who have lost their faith / there’s not much one can do but wait / you take the swiftest trail at once / and try until your hopes prevail.”

he doesn’t know what it means, but he keeps the words in his mind as she shoves aside the rest of the papers, setting down that one and beginning to talk about how she tried to solve it.

“there’s over 40,000 combinations—i did the math—and i wasn’t going to sit there for however long it took. the geo slime condensate only had enough elemental energy preserved in it to activate all of the sigils twice, and that didn’t account for actually killing the things.”

albedo propped his arm on the table, resting his chin in his palm and staring at the paper. he took in and registered her words, of course, hearing and understanding them, but a majority of his mind was focused on the paper. each of the winding paths started at the center sigil and twisted out, quickly becoming hard to follow- likely due to erosion, since the domain seemed embedded into a cliff face.

still, he pulled at the puzzle, picking at the edges. the inscription played on loop in his mind, producing ideas just as quickly as he shut them down. it couldn’t be that they had to leave to a secondary—or more—location, since six separate places for a domain was too complex and highly unlikely. it couldn’t be that there was some sort of prayer or hymn they needed to follow, due to the same argument as the first. there had to be a simpler solution….

“have you tried activating them in the order of the pathways?”

silence.

he looks up at her lack of response, finding her with her hands raised, clearly mid-ramble.

“i apologize for inter-“

he’s cut off with a wave of her hand as she picks up the paper, flipping it towards her. “dont, you already said it. what do you mean by ‘order’? actually, don’t answer. you can tell me tomorrow.”

just as quickly as she arrived, rhine left, picking up all her papers and leaving with a swish of her coat, her door nearly slammed shut.

albedo’s eyes flicked to the clock. she was barely there for ten minutes.

why? he’d spoken up before… granted, never interrupted, but… surely that wasn’t a large enough offense that she left?

he looked around his desk, empty of any equipment or glassware in preparation for the usual hours-long talk. it was earlier than he normally went to sleep, and though he could in theory return to work…

an unusual hesitation had seeped under his skin, pulling at his hands when he tried to stand. what had he said to make her leave? he’d just wanted to help…

after a moment, he stood, awkwardly pushing in his stool. ‘tell her in the morning’…

something odd and unsettling curled around albedo’s limbs as he went through the motions of preparing for bed. his fingers felt stiff where he ran them through his hair, the sheets on his bed cold despite the fire. an unmovable weight had sat itself on his chest, telling him that he’d done something wrong, but couldn’t tell what.

he hadn’t done anything. he’d just offered his help. she was the one that broke routine.

the weight told him that he was wrong.

he didn’t know why.

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reasonsforhope · 1 year

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"In Washington D.C., a sophisticated sewage treatment plant is turning the capital’s waste into a form of capital: living capital that is fertilizing the gardens of farms of the Mid-Atlantic region and saving vast quantities of resources.

Described by the workers’ there as a “resource recovery plant,” D.C. Water run a biogas plant and high-quality fertilizer production in the course of their dirty duty to ensure the city’s waste finds a safe endpoint.

The nation’s capital is exceptional at producing waste from the toilet bowls of the 2.2 million people who live, work, and commute through the city and its suburbs.

Reporting by Lina Zeldovich reveals that rather than trucking it all to a landfill, D.C. Water extract an awful lot of value from the capital crap, by looking at it as a resource to send through the world’s largest advanced wastewater treatment plant, which uses a “thermal hydrolysis process” in which it is sterilized, broken down, and shipped off for processing into “Bloom,” a nitrogen-rich, slow-release fertilizer product.

The other “Black Gold”

At their facility in southwest Washington, huge aeration tanks percolate the poo of everyone from tourists to the President. After it’s all fed into enormous pressure cookers where, under the gravity of six earth atmospheres and 300°F, the vast black sludge is rendered harmless.

Next this “Black Gold,” as Zeldovich described it, is pumped into massive bacterial-rich tanks where microbes breakdown large molecules like fats, proteins, and carbs into smaller components, shrinking the overall tonnage of sewage to 450 tons per day down from 1,100 at the start of the process.

This mass-micro-munching also produces methane, which when fed into an onsite turbine, generates a whopping 10 megawatts of green energy which can power 8,000 nearby homes. [Note: Natural gas (which is mostly methane) is definitely greener than coal and oil, but it still causes a significant amount of emissions and greenhouse gases.] The 450 tons of remaining waste from the D.C. feces are sent into another room where conveyor belts ring out excess fluid before feeding it through large rollers which squash it into small congregate chunks.

D.C. Water sends this to another company called Homestead Gardens for drying, aging, and packaging before it’s sold as Bloom.

“I grow everything with it, squashes, tomatoes, eggplants,” Bill Brower, one of the plant’s engineers, tells Zeldovich. “Everything grows great and tastes great,” he adds.

“And I’m not the only one who thinks so. We’ve heard from a lot of people that they’ve got the best response they’ve ever seen from the plants. Particularly with leafy greens because that nitrogen boost does well with leafy plants. And the plants seem to have fewer diseases and fewer pests around—probably because Bloom helps build healthy soils.”

While farms around the country are facing nutrient depletion in soils from over-farming, turning to synthetic fertilizers to make up the difference, introducing more such thermal hydrolysis plants could truly revolutionize the way humans look at their feces—as a way of restoring the country’s soils rather than polluting them. As Mike Rowe would say, it only takes a person who’s willing to get their hands dirty."

-via Good News Network, November 23, 2021

Note: You can buy this fertilizer yourself here!

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zenigatakeibu · 1 month

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SENSE AND OTHER SPECIFIC HEADCANONS.

tagged by: @foolshoujo ^_^ this is so late BUT TYYYY tagging: @espectres, @mielmoto, @brawlligator, @sosordid, & anyone else interested! i'm not too sure who all has done this one yet

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE SMELL LIKE ? i'll be honest i am SO bad at describing/imagining what a character might smell like but ppl bring up zeni's aftershave in canon a lot, and imo warm bergamot/leather scents suit him really well. but here's what my friend said and baaasically i agree: "i think inspector zeni would be more like the strangers one (a cologne w notes of roasted coffee, whiskey, and suede) but maybe now that im thinking of food-y scents the chili pepper notes could work for him. like, roasted/popped corn, chili pepper and toasted sesame. i think it would be very tasty like the lapsang souchong smoky-tea scent, yuzu and a mild aquatic to give the impression of a soap he used or a cologne he sprayed before going out, with a rich peppery spice and the roasted grains for added warmth. just a bit of skin musk too. like if u were sitting in a restaurant with him after work you can smell pretty much his whole day on him. i dont think he would carry a strong synthetic smoke scent like you get with actual cigarette smoke i think there's a lot of other notes going on that give more of a masked, faint smoke scent hence why lapsang tea would be two-for-one in terms of green tea and smoky notes."

WHAT DO YOUR MUSE’S HANDS FEEL LIKE ? zenigata's hands are hairy and naturally soft but well-worn, calloused and scarred from almost three straight decades of fieldwork. they tend to run warm like the rest of him. he has an iron grip; his hands are INCREDIBLY strong, and his fingers are thick with blunt nails.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY EAT IN A DAY ? depends on the day... zenigata has a HUGE appetite and is usually hungry enough to eat something at any given moment, but he has learned to curb it given the fact he gets stranded places... a lot. he isn't a picky eater whatsoever, aside from disliking overly sweet foods like desserts. if he's actively working on a lup heist he doesn't have much more than a few coffees and maaaybe a cup of microwave ramen/some gas station snacks. because his schedule is so busy, home cooked meals aren't something he's fortunate enough to have. instead, he gets a lot of street food, takeout, snacks, etc, anything that's easy to eat on the go. is this healthy? not at all. is it practical? maybe.. if u squint and tilt ur head. is he going to stop doing it anytime soon? well. no.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE A GOOD SINGING VOICE ? surprisingly, yes! there isn't any "canon" basis for this one, only that his voice actor sings professionally ^_^ and i think it'd be cute if zeni could too hehe. this song is my favorite by him! it sounds pretty close to how i imagine zeni's singing voice: deep, steady, and passionate.

DOES YOUR MUSE HAVE ANY BAD HABITS OR NERVOUS TICKS ? nervous ticks, no. bad habits, yes. zenigata is a stress smoker*, and when his depression is particularly bad, he tends to drink himself half to death. he also overlooks his own health a LOT and it doesn't help that hospitals make him nervous. though he hasn't had a heart attack yet (<-lol.), he does have a history of panic/anxiety attacks, one of which was so bad he needed to be hospitalized. these were more prevalent during his early years on the lupin case, he has since reigned them in considerably but under the right conditions the threat is of course always there.

*he tries not to smoke in public, and NEVER smokes around anyone 21 years old or younger.

WHAT DOES YOUR MUSE USUALLY LOOK LIKE / WEAR ? business wear is the name of the game. zenigata is very very VERY rarely seen out of his trenchcoat, even in the summer. under his coat is a charcoal-black suit, white button-up, dark red tie, and a tank top undershirt. despite how active he is, he wears black dress shoes (which are a bit scuffed if you look closely enough) and sock garters. on his wrist is a fairly inexpensive leather-banded watch. his fashion sense is very practical, if not erring on the side of bland. even what he considers "casual wear" is dress pants and a button-up. in general he prefers neutral and warm colors: browns, blacks, tans, oranges, reds, whites (smthn along the lines of his part 1 or cagliostro palettes).

IS YOUR MUSE AFFECTIONATE ? HOW SO ? yes... zeni may as well be a 6'5" teddy bear, but physical affection is reserved for a select few and he isn't usually the one to initiate it. that said, he has a habit of being very casually physical with lupin (there's literally an ep in part 4 where they're putting their hands in each other's mouths like it's smthn they do all the time... 🤨🏳️‍🌈). aside from lup though he's good at respecting people's physical boundaries so it's hard to say... casual affection is pretty common for him when it comes to romantic partners, like brushing a hand against your back while he passes by.

WHAT POSITION DOES YOUR MUSE SLEEP IN ? this one also depends... someone as perpetually exhausted as zenigata is a master at sleeping anytime, anywhere. when in bed though, he's either splayed out on his back or stomach; he isn't much of a side sleeper unless someone happens to be laying with him. sometimes he'll fall asleep hugging a pillow. when he's sleeping upright, like in a chair or against a wall, his arms are usually crossed over his chest and his head is bowed/his fedora tipped down over his face.

COULD YOU HEAR YOUR MUSE IN THE HALLWAY FROM ANOTHER ROOM ? stealth is NOT zenigata's strong suit. you could hear him from the other side of the city. he is L-O-U-D, LOUD, especially when he's angry. stomping feet, booming voice, the works. he doesn't try to be loud on purpose, but he's a big guy so he can't always help it.

#🚨 ooc #🚨 headcanons

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healthyveganfood-and-desserts · 5 months

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PSA:

Vitamin C!!!

Did you know that ascorbic acid is actually synthetic vitamin C? What’s more, it is usually GMO vitamin C, which means it was derived from GMO corn.

If you are learning this for the first time, it can be a rather shocking realization as almost all vitamin C supplements on the market use ascorbic acid.

Even more disturbing, ascorbic acid is frequently marketed as natural vitamin C and added to organic foods as a natural preservative. Truly natural forms of vitamin C and synthetic ascorbic acid seem to be used interchangeably.

NEARLY ALL juices and fruit products are loaded up with ascorbic acid, even many organic, healthfood store versions. It seems that if a product is labeled “high in Vitamin C”, consumers buy more of it.

A lot of folks are being fooled by these misleading semantics. There is a growing body of evidence that those consuming high doses of ascorbic acid should have reason to worry.

Three Studies Suggest Caution with High Dose Ascorbic Acid

The Winter 2009 edition of Wise Traditions cites 3 studies which give pause about large doses of vitamin C. The first study (from the Jun 15, 2001 issue of Science) showed that “synthetic vitamin C may contribute to the formation of genotoxins that can lead to cancer”.

A second study presented to the American Heart Association showed a link between consumption of only 500mg of vitamin C per day and a greater propensity toward thickening of the arteries (Los Angeles Times, March 3, 2000).

Even more recently, athletes taking 1000mg of vitamin C per day showed reduced endurance capacity from interference with antioxidant enzymes (American Journal of Clinical Nutrition, Jan 2008).

This information should give pause to anyone who is actively taking synthetic vitamin C supplements such as those Emergen-C packets that are available everywhere, from pharmacies and health food stores to even gas stations!

Supplements like these are NOT boosting immunity and are NOT good for you!

Synthetic vitamins such as ascorbic acid act more like drugs in the body rather than whole food nutrients with all the available co-factors. Taking any synthetic vitamin can cause imbalances in the body and should be avoided.

Another worrisome and popular trend is the recommendation of some alternative health professionals to do a “vitamin C flush” during illness. This therapy (if you can call it that) calls for large doses of ascorbic acid until the onset of diarrhea. This approach to regaining wellness has never made any sense to me. Now, with more studies indicating the danger of high doses of vitamin C, caution seems well founded.

Fan of Linus Pauling? Consider This ….

If you are a fan of Linus Pauling who popularized the notion of huge doses of Vitamin C for the common cold in the 1970’s, consider this. GMO Vitamin C did not exist when Pauling was conducting his studies. GMO derived Vitamin C is what most people are unwittingly taking today!

What’s more, the studies indicating the danger of high doses of vitamin C over long periods of time had not been done yet. They were conducted long after Pauling died in 1994.

What about High Dose, Intravenous Ascorbic Acid?

What about high dose, intravenous ascorbic acid for the very ill? Note that the vitamin C for IV use is almost always derived from GMO corn as well as being extremely high dose and synthetic ascorbic acid only.

#be aware!#vitamins #GMO #health #wellness #vegan

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pandorafallz · 2 days

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Vampire AU | Put to Place

Quaritch eyed his board of defectors with careful consideration, his mind churning as and his new findings were less than thrilling from the new reports he was able to retrieve from Earth. Carr was not actually Carr with a lot more colourful history than he anticipated and the quads he found was… nothing before their 11th birthday. Like they didn’t exist before then which smelt like someone with high power or even a lot ton of money masked and erased traces of them from the system.

That left questions and he wanted the answers.

The backburners for now while he concentrated on his more current problems and one was going to become Mansk’s problem by the end of the day and one he intended to address to ensure it didn’t grow into something problematic.

“You wanted to see me, Colonel Quaritch” The synthetic voice was barely indistinguishable from the natural one. Almost.

Quaritch turned to see Colonel Harding in the doorway, dressed back into her SecOps gear, her hair looked a little curly than usual but pulled back from her face nonetheless, her blue eyes were sharp and stared almost into him. Her throat now more a new adornment other than the scars and healed burns. A healed trachea scar at the base of her throat from intubation in medical, but along the skin of her throat was a two-inch by one inch dark sliver panel that lay paralleled to her windpipe. It had a port that was covered by a protective film but he was sure the lanyard she had with her DMT was the tools to maintain and adjust her new implant. Fancy stuff and he knew there were a lot more under her skin.

“I did.” He said, “You’re cleared from medical and due to return to Frontier West.” He gestured her to sit.

Harding did so, her eyes narrowing but only sunk into a chair after he did. “What of it?”

“You know it’s being led by one of my men, Devin Mansk.”

“Yes,” She didn’t sound thrilled.

Quaritch chuckled dryly. “I know why you’re pissed about that but I’m not here to fight his battles for him but I am here to remind you that he is running base with authority over you. He reports to Selfridge. You work under him.”

“I am aware.” Her tone was dryer than a desert.

“Good. You’ll also still have Corporal Walker assigned to your team. She’ll be better use with you and I’m sure Director Mansk give you a full debrief on what he expects from you as his head of security. I’ve recently been thinking about what that means and given your… questionable history with the late John Mercer and those Na’vi kids that somehow needed up in your own base for years, I think we should make sure you do not stray from that definition and it’s requirements.”

Harding’s eyes narrowed further at him, her lips curling in dissatisfaction.

“Your job is to protect West Frontier and the other bases of their region. You’re to keep your people safe and in line for the safety of others. You’re not a soldier going out to war and to fight battles needlessly.” Quaritch reminded, coming to lean over his desk and rested on his knuckles. “We’re not a privatised military force for humanity. The RDA is still a corporation. A job. Gas, Oil and unobtainium are our goals. You are to protect those people. Nothing more. We’re not contracted for that. A life of your men should always be over our sites and our equipment. There’s no coming back from dead and these people we have didn’t come all this way to die for something as mediocre as metal and oil.”

“I’ve… gained a few perspective on life, Colonel Quaritch.” Harding said, her tone tight and clearly holding back anything less than basic respect given he was in a far more favourable position than her. “Getting stabbed in the neck will do that to you.”

“Hm.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Yes, Dr Cortez’s work. I’m surprise a simple doctor got one-over you. Why wasn’t she cuffed?” he allowed himself to sit back.

Harding’s huffed. “She was pulled straight from her link-bed. Not exactly walking straight.”

“You hit the emergency button?”

“Her avatar was AWOL. We needed answers.”

Quaritch hummed softly as he leant to his monitor to bring up the video feed but didn’t play it. “I know from this, Mercer slapped her and looks like he ordered you to do something with her. You got close and she grabs that bottle from the side, smashes it into the table side and stabs you in the neck and uses your gun to shoot Mercer. What were you ordered to do?”

Harding’s eyes turned to the camera intently but she said nothing.

Quaritch tilted his head. “Let me guess, he wanted you to execute her?” It was a gritty assumption but Mercer’s new history didn’t show a pleasant light; he had to consider darker options here. “Clearly something motivated her to attack first. She was already dead on RDA systems so sending her back to Earth was a no-go without questions. Killing her or keeping her imprisoned would have been his only options.”

Harding’s eyes turned to him swiftly. “Already dead?”

Quaritch raised his eyebrow in surprise but pulled out Cortez’s file and mission report onto a tablet and held it out to her. “You weren’t aware? It’s your report, Colonel Harding. ”

She took it swiftly, her eyes running over the report before a dent formed quickly between her eyebrows. “This isn’t my signature on the report.” She stated. “I didn’t even write this.”

“Are you certain?”

“Of course. I know my own reports, Colonel. This isn’t even my writing style and there’s no spelling errors in any shape or form.” She scowled deeply.

“You’re dyslexic?”

“Mildly.” Harding admitted, “I don’t remove every mistake purposely for this exact reason. This other report is too pristine.” She handed it back to him, still scowling in annoyance. “Mercer is the only one who could have done it. He’s a neat freak.”

Quaritch raised an eyebrow but set it down. “So that means you’re the only one who has the most up-to-date knowledge of Dr Cortez and her purpose at that TAP school underneath Frontier West. She was only meant to be in the west to expand SciOps and to educate your people of the dangers and find a diplomatic solution of dealing with the locals. Was she playing Momma to those Na’vi kids with her avatar?”

Colonel Harding remained quiet for a moment before answering carefully. “Mercer and Cortez developed the program. Wasn’t just John. She was just their teacher. Nothing more since then.”

“Any reason she might turn against the RDA? Aside from… you know, genocide.”

Harding shook her head. “No. She had no connections outside the RDA. Her husband and daughter died on their way to Hell’s Gate fifteen years ago so--”

Quaritch sat up straighter. “Husband? Daughter?” That was new information.

Harding sighed deeply in annoyance. “I guess that wasn’t included in her file that you have?” She considered her words. “Cortez got knocked up and popped out a kid about… fifteen years ago when the program started. She married Dr Michael Brookes a week before she gave birth per his request. Two weeks later, their ship was shot down by a Na’vi in a Banshee. All were lost.”

“Are you certain? The pilot could have--”

“She wouldn’t have fucked up.” Harding interrupted unbashfully. “Corporal Harding was the pilot and she was a good pilot. She wouldn’t have messed up unless she was attacked.” Her tone filled with a very intense anger.

Corporal Harding. Anela Harding. Quaritch knew vaguely Colonel Harding had a significantly younger sister who was KIA over a decade and a half ago but he had no idea they had served on the same facility. Often, with one sibling in high power, the second one wouldn’t be working so close. Personal feelings were always a possibility. Like now, it seemed to be very personal.

It opened up a few curiosity but he withheld in asking that for now.

“I thought my son was the first human born on Pandora.” He mused, he shook his head thoughtfully. No, little Miles wasn’t relevant here. “I want a report on Cortez and her history with the staff the last 17 years before her actual death.”

“So it’s confirmed she’s actually dead?”

“Not officially but the doctor was shot twice in the back. Do you really think jungle-dwellers have the equipment to save her?”

Harding considered his words, a hand coming to feel the panelling thoughtfully before she smirked a little with satisfaction. “No, I suppose not.”

“I still want those reports before you leave. And remember, you’re head of security there. Act. Like. It.”

It was almost a blessing in the fact sleep was an impossibility for the unalive people. Hale was never more glad to be a vampire than now to sort through all this shit of paperwork; survey reports, damage reports, the refinery report and updates, getting Augustine to get her folks chosen so they could get to work in getting the filter fixed, having the supplies of unprocessed ore moved into containers to secure them, making sure the landslide was on its way to being cleaned up and the mine wall reinforced and of course, bugging Selfridge back with the reports by giving him all the details of her work (barely adding to her own but since he was getting well into micromanaging, she’d add to his work).

It filled up her hours very quickly despite sharing the lesser burdens amounts onto her already-stressed co-workers and supervisors, even sinking into the night to get everything into order for the next day and repeat. How a human did this, without cracking or throwing themselves into the mine from the top, was beyond her. It was unsurprising that Major Kung had been a hard-ass as a result and fucked around to destress.

The small mercy of letting her supervisors and their teams run the groundwork, it meant she wasn’t as exposed; she had no new unobtainium rashes that were lingering so paperwork was her curse and blessing.

But now their current problem was becoming bigger. The landside had shaken a lot of her people and had dampened morale and she… needed a way to cheer them up as a unit. That didn’t exclude the ones she knew were ditching soon, so she’d need to plan around that.

“Captain Hale?” A soft knock echoed

“Come in.” She said, not looking up. “How can I help you, Mr Gates?”

The door opened before the familiar scent wafted in from the airlock, tinged by the lingering clawing metallic ting. “Sorry, I know you’re busy. Just a personal matter.”

Hale snorted very dryly at that. “Indeed. Just give me one more second…” She wrapped up her report quickly, the touchpad barely keeping up before she sighed it off and sent it away before she set her tablet down and ticked it off on her monitor before she rose from her desk to give him her full attention. “Thank you.”

She tried to ignore the… whispers of his mind as she focused on him but it was hard to ignore his mental noise.

Reading another person’s mind was… beyond just listening to something like a radio. Everyone’s mind has different ways of processing information and in some cases, not in internal monologue. Some people processed through memory fragments (from personal or from things they watched) or musical lyrics to form a line of thought, hard of hearing had more visual thinking like letters or hands with signings, and some lacked mental visualizers (like Aphantasia) entirely. Some people didn’t “think” in English, even if they spoke fluent English which had been a very jarring experience. Everyone had different ways and you could tell a lot about a person with how they processed the world.

Emotion also lined the thought process but what she saw more visually like a transparent fog of colours around their form that faded and flowed with their thought processes like churning of waves; the colours changing and shifting in response to the emotion.

The subconscious was a whole new realm that she didn’t look into needlessly nor did she try; it was more layered and more complicated and more guarded than the rest of their open mind. Easier to assess when someone is asleep.

Humans could have some mental defences and could develop them if they practised with the right guidance. Military folk often had to toughen their minds up to cope with Drill Sargent’s yelling, and stress and allowing them to concentrate on the situation in front. Some had clear barriers that muffled their mental chatter and emotional channels. Those were the most common. Human mental barriers were typically thin but vampires could develop and thicken them with more personalised means of defence.

Gates was an internal monologue guy, with no defences so his mind was loud and his emotions were broadcast more like a light show, which was why it was hard to ignore. Having this shtick as her primary meant she found it hard to…distance herself from it; tuning people away took far more effort. There were never quite the ‘off’ buttons as with her other gifts.

He was anxious to be here but felt a sense of duty.

Gates swallowed uneasily. “I was… wondering if you’d take the time to visit Conner down at Med?”

“Is he alright?”

“The kid lost his leg, I don’t think he’s happy.”

Hale sighed deeply. “I was too slow.”

“It’s not your fault, Captain.” Gates defended, “You stopped seven men getting crushed at the tank and ledges and literally dug him out. He wants to see you.”

Before they leave.

Hale chewed her tongue softly though she still felt the gnawing guilt; she could have been faster, inhumanly faster to have saved him. They may not have noticed in the moment but… she had withheld to maintain her secret. A habit by now but… it still cost someone their leg. He was only 22 and practically fresh off the ISV Venture Star. He still had options within the RDA; an expensive Prosthesis would take most, if not all of his paycheck and leave nothing much to return home with unless they could get a lawsuit to get compensation or the RDA would generously ‘gift’ Conner with the prostheses given the nature of his injury. If he wanted a flesh leg back then he’d have to go home for it. She already knew what the kid was getting.

“I’ll see him tonight before curfew. I can’t come sooner but I should have anything manageable by then.”

Gate’s shoulders relaxed. “It’d do him some good.”

“I know things aren’t gonna be easy for him. Especially out here. Once he’s better, I was considering moving him to assist me here with management or to the Manufacturing rig. He’s very bright. Why didn’t he get signed on as SciOps?” She asked, eyeing the older man with a quizzical look. She had overheard the kid talking about fossils and shit to his colleagues and she felt his mind was sharp and absorbed a lot of information quickly. He never let on easily, even with his quietly burning crush on her.

“Couldn’t. Neither he nor his Parents couldn’t pay for the tests for the qualifications. MineOps was the easiest area to get into.”

“I see.” Not surprisingly, most of MineOps and half the SecOps had their geniuses but lacked the funds to where they had wanted to be. Interests became hobbies in a place like this, she supposed. “Since MineOps is going to be quiet this week until the site’s sound and the refinery’s up and running, shifts are going to be very slow. I was going to ask tomorrow but I noticed you’ve put your team on odd shifts this week and all together on the Sunday late, any reason why?”

His heart picked up heavily, mind washed with anxiety but his face betrayed nothing. ‘Fuck’, was the lingering mood of his entire being but he answered quickly. “A few people wanted days swapped for personal reasons. Duty rosters don’t a line-up and more so over different sectors.” He said, sounding very confident on the matter despite the clear bull-shit he was sprouting. He seemed very surprised at himself.

Hale sighed but allowed herself to appear as though she bought it. “I suppose that makes sense but I’d rather you ran this many people with changing sifts over with me. Some are trained in specific areas that are day-dependant on our productivity. I need to know who I have on hand, Frankie.”

Gates nodded quickly. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

She nodded, her monitor dinging which signalled the end of their conversation. He looked glad to leave so with a nod, she dismissed him.

Hale kept her word, if a bit later than planned. Her nose wrinkled a little at the strong smell of disinfectant that covered the undertone of blood and other fluids that resided from passing beds and room doors.

“Captain Hale?” By no surprise, Dr Solis saw her as she passed one of the rooms he was leaving.

“I’m here to see Conner, nothing more.” She said, offering him a soft smile.

That didn’t ease too much of his fears, she sensed but he was at more ease with her than most of the others.

“He’s in the far room.”

“What’s the mood in there?”

Dr Solis turned to the far end and then hummed noncommittally. “Delicate, be gentle.” He requested. “Ten minutes at the max then lights out for him.”

Hale nodded softly, patting the doctor softly on the shoulder before she knocked gently.

The occupant was a lanky thin man with auburn hair and a shower of light reddish freckles over his cheeks and nose that stood out from his fair skin. Conner was awake, drowsy but in pain, even if he didn’t show it; she could almost feel the phantom sensations of burning down her own leg with how open his mind felt in her presence.

“Yes?” His head rolled towards the door before his eyes widened. “C-Captain Hale?” he seemed very surprised but his heart jumped on his monitor loudly and seemed to flutter in quiet excitement. Colour seemed to bloom in his cheeks and his pupils dilated a mere fraction.

She opted to ignore his reaction to her. “I hope I’m not interrupting. I haven’t got long.”

Conner shook his head. “You can come in.” he gestured to a seat close by, his blue eyes darting about as if to check everything looked orderly.

Hale smiled softly and took a seat beside his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“O-okay, I guess.” His lip trembled a little, his gaze turning down to his bed sheet; the gap more visible. “I… it feels weird. Like it’s still there.”

“Your nerves are still healing, have you talked to one of the nurses about physical therapy to reduce phantom pain?” Hale asked.

Conner shook his head. “Not… thought that far, Captain. My head feels…foggy. It won’t stop hurting. It feels like my toes are on fire and yet… there’s nothing there.”

“I’m sorry.”

Conner swallowed thickly. “I thought the walls were tested regularly? I thought we were safe. Why… why did the landside happen?”

“That’s still being investigated. We’re still shovelling the dirt and clearing the way to the wall side.” Hale said, “Could be as simple as a scanner malfunctioning or someone dropped one of the mine explosives and it got buried. We’ll see.”

The young miner frowned before he sniffled a little and settled his head back on his pillow. “I’ve…been here for almost three months and this happens to me?”

“I’m sorry.” Hale apologised. “I should have been faster.”

“How? I saw you pull many asses out of the way. I was too slow.” He blinked rapidly, “I keep remembering that moment. The… the feel of the stone and dirt. I can’t sleep. I keep thinking it’s gonna keep coming and that it’ll bury me like it did those trucks”

Hale offered a hand, to which he took far too eagerly but it was easy to skate into his mind a little through this contact; his fear was prominent and tied into the memory; the sensory feel of his leg getting caught then the weight that crushed the bone, mild distorted now with irregularities and intrusive thought… the current consistent pain of his nerves as he healed from the amputation.

“Your hands are cold,” He complained.

“Poor circulation.” Hale chuckled.

“Feel’s nice.” He snorted once, eyes heavy. “…thank you for trying to save me, Captain.”

“You’re welcome, Conner.” She sighed deeply, “I… was wondering if you had any good ideas for me? Morale isn’t good these days for the group and I want to help but I’m running dry on what we can do to cheer your co-workers up.”

Conner’s head tilted towards her, his brow pulling in. “Maybe a movie night?” He suggested.

a comedy or something to bring laughter.

Hale considered his line of thought carefully. “Movie night in the Mess? That’ll be hard to wrangle.” But not impossible. She could see them appreciate the notion but getting it past Selfridge would be hard as fuck. Maybe Quarich could distract the rat bastard long enough for the miners to have their hour in the mess.

“It’ll be nice.” Conner tried, trying to suppress a yawn.

“I’ll think on it.” She rubbed the back of his warm hand softly, gently coaxing him to sleep which wasn’t hard to do in his current state, allowing herself to… numb the edges of the fear linked to the incident. Nothing permanent or binding but would ease his healing for a while and something he would have to face when he was ready to.

Phantom pain was by no means an easy condition and for many it was a life-long condition that varied. Some therapies worked over others and she knew, with him out in the open, he wasn’t going to get the therapy he needed to handle that pain. Perhaps a little out of pity, Hale softly made the connections to ease the pain away and soothe the phantom sensation fiery edge into a simple warm sensation; no pain, but the presence was there still. She couldn’t erase everything for him when he was still healing; that’d hamper the process too much but this was the best she could do to make up for her lack of action.

His breathing eased up considerably as he slept, the frown disappearing as he slipped easily into a deeper sleep. She set his hand carefully onto his side and let him be, switching off his lights before sliding his door shut.

“Colonel Harding’s arrived,” Walker announced, an entire room away in a quiet mutter but it drew his attention from his tablet to hear the sound of the wyvern’s tyres land and the engines start to die. The synthetic voice echoed the new arrivals into gear and to get them moving in.

“Bring her down to me, Walker.” Mansk set his work aside, securing his monitor and pulled out another tablet from his desk and waited. Not for long before he heard the colonel’s breath rasp through the implant, not that the sound was too audible for human ears.

Quickly, he pulled off his sunglasses, reaching for his contact lenses from his top drawer and set them in, blinking a little before they settled into his eyes. He had been wearing contact not in as often; the glasses were good for now.

A few minutes later, the door opened and Mask felt teeth form into fangs as the colonel’s scent hit him in the lungs and his throat burned immediately.

It was worse than freshly split blood on a thirsty day; his own belly was filled from a recent feed but he felt his instinct and despite to bite and feed with how oddly alluring her scent was. Harding’s quality of blood was… exquisite. He hadn’t smelt such a scent beyond Midori and even then, it was rare to even get a bite from her; everyone or someone seemed to get there before him when she was able to be fed from again. Hell, Augustine targeted Midori for six months in the early days simply to spite Shen and to rob the engineer of the quality of the feed she provided since Midori had once quartered close to the vampire.

Exquisite blood was… more than just a nice smelling human and a good feeding experience but their blood alone seemed to saturate the longest in their system and could go further between feeds, providing far more nourishment and fulfilment. Each thump of her heart was an alluring lull along with her scent. A song, even.

But it carried a far bigger risk… it was harder to stop and let them live. Exposure to Midori had left those feeding from her learning that restraint and they had learned control. But Harding’s scent was new. A new restraint to learn.

Walker’s expression was blank but he could see she was holding her breath, eyed black under her contact lenses as she too watched the blissfully unaware human lead on towards him.

Mansk sucked his teeth, willing them to return to something blunt before he gruffly shook her hand. Her warm hand. “Colonel Harding.” He greeted, stiffly.

“Director Mansk,” Harding replied, just as stiff but there was a slight twitch as she felt the unexpected coolness of his skin and she briskly dropped her hand.

“Welcome back to Frontier West. We’ve undergone a major re-haul. I’m sure you’ve read the reports of all expected changes and reports that’s occurred since you were… pulled back.”

“I have.” Harding’s lips pursed.

“Good. Now I am not John Mercer I run this base to be efficient but not at the expense of all of our lives. I expect the same from you.”

“Colonel Quaritch always gave me this talk. I don’t think we need to go over it.”

Mansk smiled but it wasn’t kind as he fixed her with a heavy stare, “He was being gentle.” His voice became cold, stepping into her space before allowing her to feel the soft warning that came from him.

Humans had instincts and a gut to know when something was right, wrong or dangerous and Mansk had found that they held means to muffle the warning vibes by the energy they give off. Often, they had reigned in but now, he let her feel the sense of warning; he was more than what seemed and he was fine to let her know that; he was no pushover here. He was dangerous.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction and the thump of her heart only ticked up a beat that betrayed her unease but she held a good façade to now show anything.

“Unlike John Mercer, I am a soldier. I know how shit flies and I know how we think. I run this base. You will run security to protect our people but don’t think for a second I won’t put you in your place if you think you can step out of line and endanger our people, Colonel Harding. I know about the little black market you’ve got and don’t think for a second I’ll let shit go easy.”

Harding’s eyes narrowed. “The black market is hardly a cost and the RDA has approved it.”

“I’ve read up about the Zeswa from RDA studies of the near clans.” He picked up his tablet. “They’re a clan that wanders and has a symbiotic relationship with the Zakru. They’re proud Direhorse riders and fierce warriors. That’s a risk I have to consider.”

“We’re in the Kinglor Forest. Far away.”

“We are, yes, but we have other stations around this frontier, including the Upper Plains that are minimally manned and wouldn’t survive an attack of angry Zeswa.” Mansk iterated, “Sure, I won’t stop you from poaching given the RDA’s greenlight but I will limit you to what creatures to take. No Zakru, their bones or any of the Direhorses.”

Harding scoffed a little. “That’s hardly fair.”

“You can hunt the Arrow Deer, the cloaked panthers and the Bladehead. That’s plenty. They reproduce fast after all. But going for anything of the Zakru and Zeswa will turn unwanted attention to us. Your job will become impossible and you’ll lose good men and women needlessly. I will not let that happen.” He glared down at the shorter Colonel. “Understood?”

Harding’s eyes were narrow, clenching hard. “Understood.”

“Here’s the revised poaching plan for you to sign. Quaritch approved this.” He held the tablet out, “So your fuck-ups will end your job here and anyone else who agrees to aid your side-projects.”

Her gaze was near a glare as she took it. “Fine,”

“Good. Dismissed.”

Her hands clenched as she turned and strode from the office, her scent lingering in the air after her before the door closed sharply. He let out a sigh. Though it made him smile to hear the Colonel grumble and tap along the tablet as she read as she went.

Worth it.

“Can I feed from her?” Walker asked, inhaling deeply. “She smells so good.”

“Not yet.” He gave his colleague a soft look, “Give her time to settle. Don’t kill her, Maria.”

Walker perked up at that. “Alright.”

Masterlist

#avatar #avatar au #avatar james cameron #grace augustine #jake sully #avatar rda #alma cortez #angela harding #maria walker #avatar frontiers of pandora #avatar mansk #miles quartich #kathrine hale #frontiers of pandora #vampire au #vampire grace #vampire

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noneedtofearorhope · 7 days

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from wiki:

"As of 2018, the Haber process produces 230 million tonnes of anhydrous ammonia per year.[65] The ammonia is used mainly as a nitrogen fertilizer as ammonia itself, in the form of ammonium nitrate, and as urea. The Haber process consumes 3–5% of the world's natural gas production (around 1–2% of the world's energy supply).[4][66][67][68] In combination with advances in breeding, herbicides, and pesticides, these fertilizers have helped to increase the productivity of agricultural land:

With average crop yields remaining at the 1900 level the crop harvest in the year 2000 would have required nearly four times more land and the cultivated area would have claimed nearly half of all ice-free continents, rather than under 15% of the total land area that is required today.[69]

The energy-intensity of the process contributes to climate change and other environmental problems such as the leaching of nitrates into groundwater, rivers, ponds, and lakes; expanding dead zones in coastal ocean waters, resulting from recurrent eutrophication; atmospheric deposition of nitrates and ammonia affecting natural ecosystems; higher emissions of nitrous oxide (N2O), now the third most important greenhouse gas following CO2 and CH4.[69] The Haber–Bosch process is one of the largest contributors to a buildup of reactive nitrogen in the biosphere, causing an anthropogenic disruption to the nitrogen cycle.[70]

Since nitrogen use efficiency is typically less than 50%,[71] farm runoff from heavy use of fixed industrial nitrogen disrupts biological habitats.[4][72]

Nearly 50% of the nitrogen found in human tissues originated from the Haber–Bosch process.[73] Thus, the Haber process serves as the "detonator of the population explosion", enabling the global population to increase from 1.6 billion in 1900 to 7.7 billion by November 2018.[74]

[...]

The use of synthetic nitrogen fertilisers reduces the incentive for farmers to use more sustainable crop rotations which include legumes for their natural nitrogen-fixing ability."

#anticiv #industrial agriculture #ecology #environmentalism

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kh2333 · 8 days

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Sustainable Farming Practices: A Pathway to Future Food Security

In the face of growing global challenges such as climate change, population growth, and depleting natural resources, the need for sustainable farming practices has never been more critical. Agriculture remains the backbone of many economies, but traditional farming methods often contribute to environmental degradation, loss of biodiversity, and soil erosion. To secure the future of food production, sustainable farming offers a transformative solution that balances productivity with environmental stewardship.

1. The Importance of Soil Health

Healthy soil is the foundation of sustainable farming. Through techniques such as crop rotation, cover cropping, and reduced tillage, farmers can improve soil structure, enhance its ability to retain water, and reduce erosion. The integration of organic matter into the soil also promotes the growth of beneficial microorganisms, contributing to long-term soil fertility.

2. Water Management: Reducing Waste and Preserving Resources

Effective water management is crucial for sustainable agriculture. Traditional irrigation methods often lead to water waste, but sustainable practices like drip irrigation, rainwater harvesting, and the use of drought-resistant crops can significantly reduce water usage. Precision agriculture technologies, such as soil moisture sensors, allow farmers to optimize water application, ensuring crops receive only what they need, when they need it.

3. Biodiversity: Enhancing Ecosystem Resilience

Biodiversity plays a key role in maintaining healthy ecosystems and improving the resilience of farming systems. By incorporating diverse crops and livestock, farmers can reduce the risk of pest outbreaks and diseases. Agroforestry, which integrates trees into farming systems, enhances biodiversity while providing additional income streams, such as timber and fruit production.

4. Reducing Chemical Dependency

Sustainable farming promotes the reduction of synthetic pesticides and fertilizers, which can harm the environment and human health. Alternatives like integrated pest management (IPM) use biological control methods, such as beneficial insects, to manage pests. Additionally, organic farming methods focus on natural soil amendments and composting to enrich the land without harmful chemicals.

5. Renewable Energy in Agriculture

The shift to renewable energy sources is becoming an essential aspect of sustainable farming. Solar panels, wind turbines, and bioenergy can power farming operations, reducing reliance on fossil fuels and lowering greenhouse gas emissions. Many farms are now integrating renewable energy technologies to achieve self-sufficiency while also contributing to environmental conservation.

6. The Role of Technology in Sustainable Farming

Advances in agricultural technology are playing a transformative role in sustainability efforts. Precision farming tools, such as GPS-guided tractors, drones for crop monitoring, and automated irrigation systems, help farmers optimize inputs and maximize efficiency. These innovations not only increase productivity but also minimize waste and environmental impact.

7. Promoting Local and Organic Markets

Sustainable farming goes hand in hand with the promotion of local and organic food markets. Supporting local farmers reduces the carbon footprint associated with food transportation and encourages the consumption of fresh, seasonal produce. Additionally, organic farming practices prioritize animal welfare, soil health, and chemical-free food production, contributing to a healthier food system.

Conclusion

Sustainable farming practices offer a viable solution to the challenges facing modern agriculture. By prioritizing soil health, efficient water use, biodiversity, and renewable energy, farmers can produce food in a way that safeguards the environment for future generations. The integration of technology further enhances the potential for sustainable farming to meet global food demands while reducing the ecological footprint of agriculture. The adoption of these practices is not just a necessity for the future of farming—it is a pathway to long-term food security and environmental sustainability.

#farming #organic farming #sustainable farming

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battleangel · 10 months

Text

Humanity Is Stupid & Contagious

I wish humanity could just admit that we dont work as a species on this planet.

We dont work as a species period.

We dont.

As a species, we are social creatures.

Therefore, as macro as it gets, we are engineered in the Upside Down (our current "reality" aka "life") to social climb, to be competitive, to be political, to try to get ahead, to use force might and violence to win, to want to accumulate wealth social capital land resources assets, to want to be the best, to acquire power.

I want to be the only 7 star general other than Lord Washington.

I want to be Trump, The Art of the Deal.

I want to be Napoleon, Bezos, Cook & Elon.

I want to be Ford.

I want to be Bill Gates.

I want to be President.

I want to be Commander In Chief.

Everything bigger faster stronger.

The smartest.

VP.

CEO.

Clout privilege wealth social capital.

Starfucker.

Sucking dick for clout.

This is all embedded in the very fabric of the Upside Down but in the dreamscape we are naturally one and harmonious.

Everything is flipped upside down here in the Upside Down.

Our differences in the dreamscape -- and the dreamscape is made up of untold trillions of separate dreamscapes that make up a kaleidoscopic explosion of thoughts dream imagination love knowledge philosophy esotericism energy meditation -- are what created and creates unfolding ever evolving ever mutating (the real X-Men) DNA hybrid dualism but down here in the Upside Down, the differences are used to falsely create division, tear us apart, make us afraid, make us prejudge, make us hate, make us ostracize, haze, bully, assault, kill, rape, murder, beat, torture, ethnically cleanse, arrest, jail, mass graves, death camps, death squads, rape rooms, mass incarcerations, hangings, lynchings, beheadings, burnings at the stake, capital punishments, executions, make an example of, mass hysteria, scapegoats, fall guys, columbine shooters, false gods, false heros, false kings, false crowns, false idols, world religions aka cults, brainwashing, conditioning centers, reprogramming, human experimentation, cloning, DNA splicing, genetic mutations, lab experimentations, synthetic chemicals and toxins, lethal injections, the electric chair, drawn and quartered, dragged by horses, decapitations, slavery.

Its like, it just doesnt work.

Human nature is rewarded in the Upside Down for being cheap, dirty, low, cutting corners, being the fastest, quickest, least expensive, best technology, most scientifically advanced, most destructive weapons, most deadly chemical warfare, more black label projects, more government secrets, more undercover agents, more guns, Gatling, AK-47, multiple rounds, multiple clips, multiple magazines, rat a tat tat, more badges, more stripes, more chevrons, more ranks, more insignias, more titles, more letters before and after your name on LinkedIn, more zeros in your bank account, more friends on Facebook, more followers on Instagram, more views on TikTok, more retweets on Twitter, more subs on Youtube & Twitch.

More Napoleon Bonapartes, more let them eat cake, more off with their heads, more they dont want to work, more welfare queens, more get a job, more Funquishas and Watermelondras.

More campaigns, more slogans, more supermans.

We never learn from our collective atrocities.

Why would any time ever be different much less the next time?

What war did WWI stop?

WWII?

Korean War?

Vietnam War?

US Mexico War?

Hundred Years War?

Cold War?

Gulf War?

Operation Iraqi Freedom?

Holocaust?

Cultural Revolution?

Khmer Rouge?

Stalin?

Lenin?

Franco?

Mussollini?

Mao?

Hitler?

Hirohito?

Rape of Nanking?

Trail of Tears?

Idi Amin?

Rwanda?

Serbia?

Congo?

Sudan?

Tigray?

Palestine?

Gaza Strip?

Slavery?

18k killed in Chile in 1 day?

9/11 inside job?

Napalm?

Nerve gas

Phosphorous?

Hiroshima & Nagasaki?

Atomic bomb?

D-Day?

10k dead Americans in Normandy?

666k dead in Civil War?

Weve never collectively as a species learned from any past war, atrocity, crime against humanity, war crime, genocide or ethnic cleansing.

Its been hundreds of thousands of years.

Why would anything ever change if it hasnt already?

The track record is abysmal and speaks for itself.

Why, as a species, do we blindly and ignorantly choose to continue to procreate, replicate and propagate our human race when the end result has always been untold human suffering?

There is no amount of joy that can cancel out the amount of suffering that has been needlessly caused and experienced in the Upside Down.

Its time to end the human experiment and we have not had a good run.

Millions upon millions killed, raped, starved, gassed, beaten, tortured, hazed, humiliated, mocked, imprisoned, jailed, assaulted, exterminated, exploited, traumatized, gaslit, intimidated, ethnically cleansed, used.

Abused, overworked, harrassed, trafficked, groomed, conditioned, brainwashed, broken, violated, fetishized, objectified, commodified, consumed, dehumanized, retconned, manipulated, overmedicalized, pathologized, drugged, indoctrinated, molested, institutionalized.

There is no amount of good, joy, happiness or anything else that can even come close to equaling out these endless and ongoing atrocities, forget cancelling them out.

Humanity is a virus that has been allowed to endlessly replicate itself and it has to stop.

We are causing catastrophic human suffering to our own species because we wont stop reproducing ourselves for no fucking reason at all.

Once you add in the ecocide, ecological and environmental destruction, hundreds of thousands of animal species that have been made extinct, climate change, climate crisis, climate emergency, deforestation, the destruction of rainforests, landfills, nuclear waste, oceanic pollution, overfishing, factory farming, industrial waste, toxins, pollutants, synthetic and lab made chemicals, GMOs, pesticides, overextraction of earths resources, raping & pillaging mother earth, sewage, food waste, fast fashion, big box retail, air pollution, air toxicity, non biodegradable waste taking tens of thousands of years to break down in landfills, oil spills, drilling for oil, coal, endless construction, endless Amazon warehouses, endless delivery drones, methane emissions from factory farming, greenhouse gas emissions, millions of cars clogging the highways...

The answer is we need to subtract the human race from the equation.

If all 7.8 billion of us currently alive on the planet made the conscious decision not to procreate, we could end all this suffering in this generation.

Weigh the reasons to procreate: continue bloodline and current family lineage, have a little mini-me, fullfill narcisstic fantasies of having a living breathing extension of your own ego, looking for something to give you your identity and a reason to live, looking for purpose, the social rewards that come with being a parent, the social pressures to procreate, making your mom & dad happy, keeping up with your friends that are popping out babies, an unexamined need and desire to fit in, unquestioningly accepting society's pronatalist stance and adopting it as your own without examining it, desire to create heirs, egotistical fantasy of living forever and trying to accomplish this by having children, wanting miniaturized versions of yourself who will endlessly kiss your ass stroke your ego and hero worship you, to build your own myth aura and mystique, narcisstic desire to be a matriarch/patriarch, societal insistence that feminity equates to motherhood, believing the lie that motherhood is a womans highest calling, believing the lie that not having children is selfish, succumbing without thinking to the non-stop societal programming, conditioning and brainwashing to procreate and create bodies for the capitalist machine, spouse is pressuring or demanding or coercing you to have kids, wanting to play dress up with your doll aka daughter, wanting to be an adult and parenthood is tied with adulthood in our society, unexamined fear of old age and dying alone and becoming old sick and infirm without children, believing the lie that you are incomplete and somehow defective as a woman until you shit a fetus out of your cervix, wanting to prove your worth and adopting parenthood as part of an ultracompetitive persona that can do and be and crush everything crossfit marathons pilates keto school grades corporate promotions salaries the house the car the spouse and now kids further bolsters your superman/superwoman persona, falling for the societally peddled lie that holidays are incomplete without little kids running around, incorrectly and inadequately trying to address childhood and generational trauma experienced in family while growing up by having your own kids vs doing the necessary self reflection, introspection, shadow & somatic work, reiki & therapy, wanting a daughter who is your BFF, wanting a child for nothing but fantasy & wish fulfillment, obsessive martydom complex leads to desire to martyr oneself by sublimating your identity, body, sexuality, career, income, social life and freedom for the all-consuming and obliterative identity of motherhood, desire for people to take you seriously, to compete with or keep up with siblings or best friends who already have kids, believing the carefully crafted and packaged lies that overly romanticize parenthood and wanting the Hallmark fantasy, slavishly following cultish and pathetic religious dictates and never questioning the religious indoctrination and brainwashing of your youth which commanded you to be fruitful and multiply, a desire to be respected through becoming a parent, a fear of appearing like an outsider if you are in a long term relationship or marriage for decades and never have kids, an irrational fear of missing out where you believe the propaganda that nothing is worse than reaching old age realizing you actually wanted kids and not being able to have them when in reality absolutely nothing is worse than having kids realizing you absolutely despise being a parent, regretting having them, being stuck with them for 18+ years and never being able to publicly voice your opinions although while quite commonplace are societally taboo especially from mothers who must always be docile, happy, pleasant, energetic, cheerful, full of vigor and most importantly never tired or complaining at all times.

Okay. Now, go reread this post and look at all the reasons not to procreate.

Like, its not close.

Humanity is stupid and contagious but you dont have to be.

End the endless cycle of human suffering.

Choose to not procreate.

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