#fair company

[thoughtportal]

Five years ago Catholic priest Johannes Schwarz left his parish to "withdraw for a few years" in the Italian Alps (in the shadow of his beloved Monte Viso). He bought an old "rustico" - stone farm building - for 20,000 euros and transformed it into his mountaintop hermitage.

Inspired by the early Christian desert hermits from the "200s and 300s when some people went into the deserts of Egypt and Palestine searching for a more rigorous life", Schwarz found something remote: he has only one full-time neighbor on the entire mountainside and in winter, he often has to snowshoe for a couple hours just to buy food and supplies.

To be as self-sufficient as possible, he makes his own bread and stores plenty of potatoes which he grows using Ruth Stout's "No-Work" gardening method. To grow much of his own fruit and produce, he terraced the steep hillside (using stones from the area) to create micro-climates. "You try to build walls that have southern exposure because they heat up during the day and they give off the warmth and can make a difference of several degrees." (Studies show differences of 27°F/15°C in the ultra-deep Incan terraces). He grows plenty of tomatoes inside his self-built recycled greenhouse.

For heating and cooking, he built a combination rocket stove and masonry heater by creating his own casts and loam coating. His refrigerator, which he transported up the hill on top of his bicycle, is kept in the unheated room, along with his food stores. He uses a tiny 30-year-old 3-kilogram washing machine and built his bathroom out of salvaged materials. To transport the lumber up the hill for his remodel, he got some help from a local farmer.

He divided the old barn into four small rooms on two floors; the living room/kitchen and pantry on the ground floor and a chapel and bedroom upstairs. His bedroom also serves as an editing studio where he creates videos on philosophy and religion.

He created a wooden-arched indoor chapel where he “celebrates the traditional Latin mass” alongside a wall he painted with Byzantine, romanesque and gothic styles in appreciation of "the symbolism of the ancient art."

[bedupolker]

Don’t listen to the haters. I care about your spotify wrapped.

[friendly-neighborhood-furry]

for anyone who doesn't have the Return YouTube Dislike Plugin, here's how Watcher Entertainment's "Goodbye Youtube" video is doing right now

yeah... gonna throw out a yikes on that one

i suspect this number will only keep growing in the coming days/weeks, especially the longer and longer we go without any sort of response.

EDIT: its only been three hours and the number has already jumped to 206K dislikes.

[theabigailthorn]

my TV series pitch just got rejected by a production company who said it's too funny and not commercial enough, which, frankly, BEST FEEDBACK EVER??!!!

[keferon]

Fascinated by the fact that the Autobot and Decepticon insignias are essentially redesigned faces of Prowl and Soundwave, meaning that both sides use images of their second-in-command as their symbols.

[rei-is-hiding]

[aropride]

i love to email binder companies about their sizing charts. i say "hey girl my rib size is an xs and my chest size is an xxl what do you think i should do here. Bc i know small or xs wont work" and then they go "well our uber powerful chestzapper3000 can compress ANYTHING. get a small ☺️" And then i get the small and it doesnt fit

[shortnotsweet]

[ “SOMEBODY TOLD ME”]:

BREAKING MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME. SEVENTEEN TRACKS AND I’VE HAD IT WITH THIS GAME. A BREAKIN’ MY BACK JUST TO KNOW YOUR NAME—BUT HEAVEN AIN’T CLOSE IN A PLACE LIKE THIS.

— The Killers, Hot Fuss (2004)

Princess Rhaenyra’s insolence is wearing her stepmother’s patience thin. Queen Alicent is not ten years her senior, but even during her own sixteenth year, she cannot recall herself behaving so brazenly. She would never burst into courtly discussions in nothing but gilded armor and the underskirts of her riding leathers, awash in blood. (She would never be spotted in blood that was not her own, anyway. Alicent has never picked up a sword, not one that belonged to her.) Nevermind that Rhaenyra is attending to diplomatic affairs with bared teeth and scales, no—the crux of the matter is just that, her affairs. Rhaenyra is the Realm’s Delight, a beauty incomparable to any fair maiden, Alicent included. She indulges herself with appetite of a spoiled child, the confidence of man, and the pickings befitting only to her royal blood. Criston Cole. Daemon Targaryen. Harwin Strong. Laena Velaryon. She’s full of love, isn’t she? That selfish, foolish girl. What does Rhaenyra Targaryen know of love, of duty? She is a child in so many ways—she thinks killing makes her a man, thinks the throne is hers despite being a woman, thinks she can have her knight and her uncle and her protector and Laena Velaryon in one fail swoop. She’s wrong. She doesn’t know herself half as well as Alicent does. Alicent, who sees her for what she truly is, who wants to see all of her and more of her and none of her. Alicent has been stolen into the Keep by her own father—both of their fathers—but Rhaenyra is the key to this place, is the window to everything barred. Rhaenyra Targaryen has a dragon. Rhaenyra can fly.

That’s what Rhaenyra had promised her once, with her lips pulled back in a grin, exposing the white of her teeth like the violently radiant creature she was. “Perhaps when you grow tired of plotting against me, we shall ride on dragonback together,” she had said. The tease.

Alicent had yanked her into an empty corridor by the silk of her sleeve, ready to chastise her for her ill behavior. Conversing with the lords and ladies of the court at a feast was one thing, but chattering about her bloody encounters in battle over the pudding tureen were another. The lord at her elbow was going green. Alicent’s own face was likely red; her heart raced whenever Rhaenyra got like this. Alicent had never seen the battlefield—only seen battered men in dented armor and the slumps of corpses lined along dirt roads in the aftermath of war—but her own imagination terrified her like nothing else.

(Rhaenyra is better with a sword than half of the knights in Westeros, and more lovely than the lot. Her reign has not yet begun, but already the commoners flock to her—lured in by tales of her beauty and fine hair—and soldiers would follow her into battle. Alicent would not follow, but she would watch and bite her nails down to the quick.

She thinks of the figure Rhaenyra cuts in full armor, the heat in her gaze underneath the slots of her helmet. Alicent remembers the weight of her own hand in Rhaenyra’s—which was gloved—when the princess rode up to the spectators box and grasped it in her own, bringing Alicent’s knuckles to her lips. She thinks of Rhaenyra murdered in the sky, skewered with another man’s sword, plummeting to the ground, torn in half, streaking crimson across the clouds. Alicent would scream, or cry. She might laugh. She would throw herself from the window of her tower. Rhaenyra’s bloody exploits terrified Alicent for reasons she could not identify, and excited her for reasons she refused to.)

“I’d sooner be confined to the castle for the rest of my days than get on the back of that bloody lizard,” Alicent scoffed. Rhaenyra only tucked her hand over Alicent’s, where it was resting on her forearm. She flexed her fingers, moving to release her grip on the dark fabric, but Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers and held them fast.

“You’re confined already. You are already accustomed to such a thing. I know you. But—”

“But you forget yourself. You think you’re invulnerable, Rhaenyra. You don’t know who you are.” Alicent intends for it to be a sneer, but instead it comes out quietly, and too gentle for disdain. She can’t know. Rhaenyra is as trapped as she is, but they’re trapped together. They belong together. She belongs with Alicent.

“I am Rhaenyra Targaryen, Heir to the Iron Throne and all of Westeros. I am a dragonrider. I am—I am your daughter. In a way. Your sister, too. Your enemy. Your sword, your shield.”

“And what am I?” What else is left for me? Alicent wonders.

“My Queen. For now.” Rhaenyra cocks her head, and the gleam in her eyes burns like fire raining down. “When I am Queen, you will be my lady.”

[anakinh]

sephiroth provides the puppy with some enrichment by letting him roam free

[spiceflow]

lethal bunny suit saga

[acepalindrome]

So pay your writers and actors, you greedy fuck.

[nat-20s]

Overall I do think things would've gone significantly better for Martha if Donna had accepted the first offer she got from The Doctor and been in season 3. Donna would absolutely be the Number One member of the Martha defense club and would've constantly been like "SHE'S SO FUCKING COOL AND BRILLIANT AND SMART AND BEAUTIFUL AND IF YOU DON'T CHEER AND CLAP FOR HER I'M BLOWING UP THIS BUILDING" like Donna IS her living breathing hypeman. Also I think Donna would've killed the master so that whole year that wasn't? Never happened.

That being said. Rip to Martha Jones because I think she would've had a disaster bisexual moment where on either side of her is an incredibly attractive person that is ruthlessly teasing her for her crush on the other. Neither of them have figured out she has a crush on them. She is not subtle about it.

[epaulettesharks]

i've certainly seen a lot of Takes surrounding the watcher streaming service debacle, but it's pretty wild to me how "this fully fledged production company doesn't need 30 employees." is a fairly common sentiment i've observed. like first of all, 30 is on the smaller side for the number of employees a production company needs, and second of all, are you suggesting that the kinder decision for watcher to make would be to lay off most of their workers in order to keep costs down?? like can we get real for a moment???

[twilight-deviant]

Watcher fans sure are entitled and a little insane, ngl. "No one is going to sign up for your service! We're all poor! You've made the worst decision, and you'll be back in no time!" Saying this directly to the creators really reminds you of how low the respect for people you don't personally know has gone. I miss the forth wall between creator and audience.

I get and fully understand not having the money to support them, but... Watcher does have fans with money. A lot of them actually. They have merch sales. Their live tour sells out most venues. They have thousands of supporters on Patreon, where the cheapest tier is $5. They're able to gauge the rough finances of their staunchest supporters; that's how they landed on the subscription price. Yes, this move will reduce their viewership in sheer numbers, but to say all of their fans are broke and none will follow/support is factually incorrect.

It may not be a decision everyone agrees with, but severing the limitations of advertisers and youtube in favor of artistic freedom is a good thing. Yes, even if it comes with a loss of revenue. They understand that risk.

Also, I'm begging people to stop treating this like "another Netflix" or something and instead look at it as, "I am supporting a creator I like, similar to Patreon." They literally said in the video that they don't care if you share accounts. Get five friends, and you'll pay $1/mo.

I hate feeling compelled to rant in favor of their decision because I have my own reservations about whether it's the best move. However, I know it's not a choice they made lightly, and I like to think they understand that they'll need to branch out like crazy to entice subscribers.

[preposterousgreen]

AU in which Aerith steals a hoodie from Tifa who stole it from Cloud who stole it from Zack who stole it from Sephiroth who stole it from Genesis who stole it from Angeal who had to steal it from Shinra’s supply depot because they didn’t get the memo about him being allowed to have extras.

[redbootsindoriath]

Happy Hobbit Day! (I almost forgot and it's technically well into the 23rd where I am right now, but I haven't gone to bed yet since waking up on the 22nd, so we'll say it counts.)

I think if Boromir had survived he should be allowed special permissions to go into the Shire to see his friends in their native habitat after everything is over.

Transcription:

Shire border security guard: "Sir I don't think you can bring those out with you..."