#soils rehabilitation

[nnctales]

Unlocking the Future: Geopolymers Revolutionizing Construction

In an era where sustainability and innovation are paramount, the world of construction materials is witnessing a paradigm shift. Geopolymers, a class of materials that have been gaining traction in recent years, are emerging as a promising alternative to traditional cement-based products. With their potential to reduce carbon emissions, enhance durability, and provide versatile applications,…

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - June 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $Kaybarr1735! And if you tip me and give me a way to contact you, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week!

1. Victory for Same-Sex Marriage in Thailand

“Thailand’s Senate voted 130-4 today to pass a same-sex marriage bill that the lower house had approved by an overwhelming majority in March. This makes Thailand the first country in Southeast Asia, and the second in Asia, to recognize same-sex relationships. […] The Thai Marriage Equality Act […] will come into force 120 days after publication in the Royal Gazette. It will stand as an example of LGBT rights progress across the Asia-Pacific region and the world.”

2. One of world’s rarest cats no longer endangered

“[The Iberian lynx’s] population grew from 62 mature individuals in 2001 to 648 in 2022. While young and mature lynx combined now have an estimated population of more than 2,000, the IUCN reports. The increase is largely thanks to conservation efforts that have focused on increasing the abundance of its main food source - the also endangered wild rabbit, known as European rabbit. Programmes to free hundreds of captive lynxes and restoring scrublands and forests have also played an important role in ensuring the lynx is no longer endangered.”

3. Planning parenthood for incarcerated men

“[M]any incarcerated young men missed [sex-ed] classroom lessons due to truancy or incarceration. Their lack of knowledge about sexual health puts them at a lifelong disadvantage. De La Cruz [a health educator] will guide [incarcerated youths] in lessons about anatomy and pregnancy, birth control and sexually transmitted infections. He also explores healthy relationships and the pitfalls of toxic masculinity. […] Workshops cover healthy relationships, gender and sexuality, and sex trafficking.”

4. Peru puts endemic fog oasis under protection

“Lomas are unique ecosystems relying on marine fog that host rare and endemic plants and animal species. […] The Peruvian government has formally granted conservation status to the 6,449-hectare (16,000-acre) desert oasis site[….] The site, the first of its kind to become protected after more than 15 years of scientific and advocacy efforts, will help scientists understand climatic and marine cycles in the area[, … and] will be protected for future research and exploration for at least three decades.”

5. Religious groups are protecting Pride events — upending the LGBTQ+ vs. faith narrative

“In some cases, de-escalation teams stand as a physical barrier between protesters and event attendees. In other instances, they try to talk with protesters. The goal is generally to keep everyone safe. Leigh was learning that sometimes this didn’t mean acting as security, but doing actual outreach. That might mean making time and space to listen to hate speech. It might mean offering food or water. […] After undergoing Zoom trainings this spring, the members of some 120 faith organizations will fan out across more than 50 Pride events in 16 states to de-escalate the actions of extremist anti-LGBTQ+ hate groups.”

6. 25 years of research shows how to restore damaged rainforest

“For the first time, results from 25 years of work to rehabilitate fire-damaged and heavily logged rainforest are now being presented. The study fills a knowledge gap about the long-term effects of restoration and may become an important guide for future efforts to restore damaged ecosystems.”

7. Audubon and Grassroots Carbon Announce First-of-its-Kind Partnership to Reward Landowners for Improving Habitats for Birds while Building Healthy Soils

“Participating landowners can profit from additional soil carbon storage created through their regenerative land management practices. These practices restore grasslands, improve bird habits, build soil health and drive nature-based soil organic carbon drawdown through the healthy soils of farms and ranches. […] Additionally, regenerative land management practices improve habitats for birds. […] This partnership exemplifies how sustainable practices can drive positive environmental change while providing tangible economic benefits for landowners.”

8. Circular food systems found to dramatically reduce greenhouse gas emissions, require much less agricultural land

“Redesigning the European food system will reduce agricultural land by 44% while dramatically reducing greenhouse gas emissions from agriculture by 70%. This reduction is possible with the current consumption of animal protein. “Moreover, animals are recyclers in the system. They can recycle nutrients from human-inedible parts of the organic waste and by-products in the food system and convert them to valuable animal products," Simon says.”

9. Could Treating Injured Raptors Help Lift a Population? Researchers found the work of rehabbers can have long-lasting benefits

“[“Wildlife professionals”] tend to have a dismissive attitude toward addressing individual animal welfare,” [… but f]or most raptor species, they found, birds released after rehabilitation were about as likely to survive as wild birds. Those released birds can have even broader impacts on the population. Back in the wild, the birds mate and breed, raising hatchlings that grow up to mate and breed, too. When the researchers modeled the effects, they found most species would see at least some population-level benefits from returning raptors to the wild.”

10. Indigenous people in the Amazon are helping to build bridges & save primates

“Working together, the Reconecta Project and the Waimiri-Atroari Indigenous people build bridges that connect the forest canopy over the BR-174 road[….] In the first 10 months of monitoring, eight different species were documented — not only monkeys such as the golden-handed tamarin and the common squirrel monkey (Saimiri sciureus), but also kinkajous (Potos flavus), mouse opossums (Marmosops sp.), and opossums (Didelphis sp.).”

Bonus: A rare maneless zebra was born in the UK

June 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[wordsinhaled]

we know crowley’s spent centuries listening to aziraphale talk about his language lessons, we know how supportive and wonderful he was about aziraphale’s magic hobby he was originally before it all went south

i want to see the reverse over the years!

imagining all the time crowley has rambled at aziraphale at length, and aziraphale just listening to his enthusiasm and becoming utterly smitten

angel crowley before the fall teaching aziraphale all about physics, gravity and pressure and matter, practically bouncing with excitement as he shows him new star systems being born and aziraphale telling him he’s done brilliantly. marveling at the beautiful acts of creation that crowley brings forth (and also at crowley but shhh that’s aziraphale’s secret for now)

crowley and aziraphale on earth and the first time aziraphale realized crowley was really interested plants. what if aziraphale brought him his first houseplant? as a housewarming gift for his flat in london, and crowley still has it (through painstaking care and just a bit of occult intervention…)

imagining aziraphale tagging along with crowley to plant shops, helping him carry bags of potting soil to the bentley, browsing with him along aisles of plants. “this one looks lovely, darling.” “oh, no, angel, that one’s sick, see? the brown bits on the leaves, there. leaf rot.” “well, you can make it better, can’t you?” (and aziraphale beams at crowley, and crowley gets the sick plant, of course, and rehabilitates it, and later aziraphale recognizes it and smiles)

aziraphale listens fondly to crowley talk about stars - crowley doesn’t even need to be tipsy to go on long winding enthused tangents about them. aziraphale goes over to crowley’s flat to watch carl sagan’s cosmos with him on crowley’s big flatscreen TV, and is so excited for him whenever the james webb telescope puts out new images

i like to think aziraphale gave crowley some of his guidebooks on the stars and that he has a special section of the bookshop full of antique and vintage stargazers’ atlases and literature on the science of the universe. and maybe if crowley’s the one who plans their lunch dates then aziraphale’s the one who miracles them the best seats in the house at the planetarium and spends the whole time watching crowley gaze with wonder at the stars he created

i want to see crowley introducing aziraphale to his favorite romcoms (once they’re happily living in the south downs of course) and aziraphale dutifully reenacting all the sappiest things crowley loves best. kisses in the rain and picnics by the sea and baking croissants together at midnight on a whim - all because it makes crowley happy

just aziraphale being absolutely as gone on crowley as crowley is on him if not more, and showing it over and over for the rest of time 💛💛💛

[dipperdesperado]

guerrilla gardening is very cool

I’m really stoked to talk about praxis and solarpunk today. Hopefully, you all know what solarpunk is. I imagine fewer of you know what praxis is. Essentially, praxis is a term, used a lot by leftists, to talk about doing stuff. It’s a practice or activity, informed by theoretical and experiential knowledge. In our goal to create an ecological society informed by appropriate technology, we should think not only about the massive upheavals but the things that we can do right now. That’s where guerrilla gardening comes in.

Gardening in general is activism, but guerrilla gardening is like, super solarpunk. The rundown is essentially when you and/or a group of homies take some love-starved land and turn it into a garden (or just plant stuff there) without permission from the owner of said land. That lack of permission is what makes it guerrilla. This can lead to a better community, and supports abolition (of private property), autonomy, and collective resiliency. Ideally, you can get public support behind ya, and be able to work with the municipality to not get in trouble. The classic asking for forgiveness than permission, until you’re the one that can decide.

Where to Start: X Marks the Spot

When you (and your small-but mighty collective/affinity group) decide that you want to set up a guerrilla garden, the first thing you want to do is find a good spot. It can be that little line of grass that split up two sides of the road, a sidewalk bed, or an empty lot. You want to make sure there’s good sunlight and decent soil. If the soil ain’t good, but you wanna do stuff there, I’d recommend researching how to rehabilitate it. Obviously, that’s more work, though.

Once you have your target spot, you’ll need your tools and plants. Some basic things will be gloves, a trowel, a water source (like a can or hose), and plants/seeds. Some nice-to-haves could be mulch, compost, or soil amendments. It depends on what you’re planting and what your conditions are to know what you’ll need to bring. If you’re in a high visibility area, it could be nice to have some clothing that makes sure you don’t look suspect. That’s probably a good general rule of thumb. Act like you deserve to be in the space because you do! If you look suspect, people will think as much.

Prepping the Garden

Once you have everything you need, you’ll need to get the garden site ready. If you need to clear it out, whether there’s vegetation you’re not interested in, trash, debris, etc., do that. Ideally, you can also improve the soil quality with stuff like compost and organic stuff if you need to.

Time for Plants!

Here’s where the real fun begins. Get some plants going! You want the ones you pick to be a good fit for the target climate and soil. Even better if some of them are edible. When you’re planting, be sure to space the plants out and water them pretty well. If you're planting seeds, be patient! It can take a few weeks for the plants to sprout.

Garden Tending

Now that you have a garden going, it’s time to keep it up. You want to water them regularly and watch out for any invasives or weeds that could crowd out your plants. You might also have to add additional amendments to the soil, to keep the plants happy. Try to make sure to think about and account for issues in the garden. Whether that’s nonhuman neighbors or mean vandals, you want to try to think of ways to uphold the values of the project while protecting its continued existence.

Permablitzing

I also want to touch on some more specific types of guerrilla gardening. Firstly, let’s talk about permablitzing.

Permablitizing is a portmanteau between permaculture and blitzing. Permaculture is a type of gardening and farming that aspires to copy natural ecosystems to create harmonious gardens that are self-sustaining. It generally will include a mix of native, edible, and wildlife-attracting plants. Permablitzing is taking that permaculture idea and rallying the community to create a permaculture garden in a single day.

It looks a little something like this: volunteers collectively design and install the garden. They put in garden beds, plant trees, and shrubs, and install irrigation. There might also be compost systems, raised beds, or accessible walkways through the garden. Permablitzing is great because it’s relatively quick, it’s tangible and immediately garners buy-in. It’s more about finding the space to do this and finding people who are willing to participate.

Seedbombing

If you’re not able to work with a group, or you just want to be able to very quickly deposit new plants in places, you can seedbomb!

Seedbombs are small packages of seeds wrapped in soil that can be thrown or dropped onto the ground. This kinda stuff is great for rewinding and restoring neglected or degraded areas. Just make sure you do research! You don’t wanna introduce invasive or incompatible plants.

The basic seedbomb recipe is:

Soil

Clay or compost

Seeds

You mix them together, roll them into small balls, then let them dry. You can just toss them into your target areas. Seedbombing is great because it’s fun and creative while being a great way to un-neglect neglected areas. You can also do it alone or with the homies. It’s a very flexible guerrilla option.

Final thoughts

One of the most important things to think about when trying to enact social change is aligning your ends (the liberatory future you envision) with your means (the things you do to get to that vision). Guerrilla gardening is great to this end as a form of praxis because it allows for this to be realized in the here and now. It helps us realize that we don’t have to wait until people let us do what we think is right. If you see an issue, you can respond to it. Also, gardening is fun, gets you outside, and allows you to be more connected with the earth, which is just so so so good for you. Be smart, keep each other safe, and good luck with your gardening!

[ohtobeleah]

Father, Son & The Holy Shit // Jake Seresin

Prologue: [Father, Son & Suck My Dick Seresin.] At a funeral that couldn’t have come soon enough, you relive what could possibly be described as the most devastating tragedy of your entire life. Jake Hangman Seresin.

Warnings: Jake Seresin x Bradshaw!reader. Age Gap. Funeral gathering. Angst! Dark & Mature themes. 18+ Minors do not engage.

Author Note: Thankyou @seresinsaint for encouraging me to be a little fucked up.

-> Masterlist

You never thought this day would come. In your mind, it was ten years overdue. Tens years long long overdue. But even though you’d been praying for this day to come—willing it into existence, it still felt so surreal. 

Commander Jake Hangman Seresin was dead. And you couldn’t wait for the soil to set so you could dance on top of his grave. 

There was not an ounce of you that felt a single bit of remorse. But regardless, you trailed behind your father, now Admiral Bradley Rooster Bradshaw. Chief of naval operations and chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. 

“Where’s dad?” Tilly, your ten year old asked softly as she looked up at you and asked as politely as she possibly could. Dressed in a black dress that matched your own, she was the spitting image of you. Only she had those sinful emerald eyes. 

You could tell your dad was on the lookout for him too, knowing that it had been just shy of three years since the two of you were in a room together. He was usually the middle man, the mediator in all this. Today was going to be interesting. 

“He’s around here somewhere baby.” You paused in your stride as you made it to the bottom of the hill at Wayne Richards Memorial Cemetery. You couldn’t do this, you thought you could but you just couldn’t. “Dad—“ You choked out and Rooster turned on his heels to see how not okay you were. “Can you take Tilly up to Kian please? I—I just need a minute.” He didn’t need to ask if you were alright, he knew you weren’t—but this day wasn’t about you. 

It was about Jake Seresin. 

“Come on Tilly girl, let's give your mum some space for five, your Dads gonna want you to stamp grandpa’s wings in.” Nothing about that sentence was fucking normal. Nothing about your family dynamic was fucking normal. But you let your dad, Rooster—lead your daughter up the grassy hill towards the funeral gathering. 

Turns out Commander Seresin was a pretty loved guy. But that love didn’t run through your veins. No way no how. The only reason you agreed to attend was to see it for yourself. That he was dead and buried and couldn’t mess your life up anymore than he already had. You had so much going for yourself, you were a good person with a bright future. 

Except for the past ten years you’d been in and out of rehabilitation and AA meetings that it all just fell through your fingertips. You were, however, a good mother. 

“Fuck this.” You sighed and you lit a cigarette, holding it between your lips as you flicked your lighter and lit a flame that soon enough, ignited the cancer stick you prayed would give you some sort of incurable disease that would ultimately take you out of this hell. Knowing your luck you’d live a long and fruitful life—oh how god placed his strongest battles on his weakest soldiers shoulders. 

“Those things’ll kill you, you know.” You heard a familiar voice creeping up behind you as you stood at the bottom of the hill, watching car after car attend the funeral of a man that ruined your fucking life. 

They’d never know. 

“Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky.” You sighed as you blew a plume of smoke up and away from the face of a man you knew hated your very existence. He gestured for the cigarette between your fingers, reluctantly you handed it to him. Thinking he was going to take a puff. 

Kian Seresin brought the cigarette up to his lips, turned to look at you—before he dropped it to the grass below and crushed it with his shoe. A shoe that was damn near as black as your soul. 

“Ass—“ 

“Tilly doesn’t need you full of carcinogens.” He hissed. Placing his hands into the front pockets of his slacks. You simply took another cigarette from your purse and lit it all the same. “Y/n—“ You kept eye contact the entire time. “For fuck sake.” Kian sighed, he hated you smoking—always had. 

“Free country Kian.” You shrugged. “How you holding up anyway?” You didn’t care. You hadn’t cared about Kian in years, the same way he didn’t care about you. For Tilly you remained passive. You co-parented enough to make it believable that the two of you could stand together alone in a room without blowing each other’s brains out. But that’s exactly why you didn’t spend time together. 

Because you both would. 

“As well as I can be.” He replied. You knew it was coming. He always had a need to remind you. It was his thing, your therapist told you that it was a coping mechanism—to throw all the blame on you. “You know, for a guy who’s girlfriend fucked his dad.” Ah. Yep. There it was. 

“Good one, never heard that one before.” You snapped back. Walking with Kian up towards where he’d lay his father to rest. “I thought you of all people would be pretty chuffed he kicked the bucket.” 

“I am.” Kian replied as he played with his suit jacket. “Guy cost me more money in therapy than he could ever repay.” That was probably the one thing the two of you ever agreed upon. “But uh, even after all these years I still stay up thinking about it.” You knew what Kian was referring to because the same thing kept you up. It had kept you up for ten years and would keep you up for a lifetime more. “Do you think he knew?” 

“I think he liked to think he knew for sure, but I don’t think we’ll ever find out.” None of this was fair. Your life could be defined into two categories. Pre the Seresins and post the Seresins. Only there would never be a day where you were free of them. You’d be forever tied to the Seresin family. Your daughter Tilly stood to inherit a hell of a lot of money and assets in the wake of Jake's death. “Only the worms know now.” 

For two people who couldn’t stand one another—you and Kian always did a pretty good job keeping up appearances. You both knew eyes were always on the pair of you, so that’s exactly why you’d both agreed it was best to not see each other. It was for the benefit of your daughter. 

“Dad!” Tilly cooed as she ran up to you and Kian, he crouched and placed a single knee into the grass as he held her tight. “I’ve missed you—“ She nuzzled into his shoulder and for a moment Bradley remembered what it was like when you were that young—when your mother would meet him at the doc post deployment and you’d come running up to him. 

“I missed you too, Bugalugs.” Kian mumbled back as he held his daughter, or rather, assumed daughter. The timeline was that blurred the two of you would never really know for sure: 

If Tilly Bug Seresin was Jake Seresins daughter or if she was in fact Kians. 

Regardless—Kian loved her as his own. He always hoped she was. 

“Kian—“ Bradley shook Kians hand with a firm grip, he always had a soft spot for the kid in all of this. “Sorry this family gathering couldn’t be under more positive circumstances.” Without a beat, Kian had you wishing you hadn’t taken a drag of your cigarette when you had. 

“Nothing more positive than donating garbage back to Mother Earth, Admiral.” He didn’t miss a single beat. Rooster was just as taken aback as you were—the dig at her grandfather went straight over Tilly’s head. “Shall we?” He smiled your way. Pressing a hand to the small of your back as you coughed and tried to regain your composure. 

This was going to be a long, but overdue, funeral.

Just like you thought it would be, it was. You sat with your ex, the hopeful father of your daughter and his family that never knew just how messed up things had gotten. Your dad, Admiral Bradshaw stood at attention with the rest of the Dagger Squad that had been like a found family to Jake. You recognised all of them. They couldn’t look at you. They knew. They all knew and as they looked at your daughter as she stamped the wings into Jake's coffin they wanted to just die. 

“Aim!” You held your breath for the gun fire that followed soon after. “Fire!” 

“Aim!” Jake didn’t deserve this honorable send off. “Fire!” But he was loved, oh so loved by his family and friends and colleagues alike. 

“Aim!” You were probably the only person in attendance that wished this day had come sooner. “Fire!” But you settled for today. 

“I’d like to invite Commander Seresins family to say their final goodbyes—“ It was the moment you had been waiting for. The reason you had told your dad you’d come to the funeral. To have the last laugh. One by one you watched members of the Seresin family, including your daughter and her dad say their goodbyes. They dropped a mix of white and yellow chrysanthemums onto the top of the casket you’d dreamed about viewing. One by one your turn was nearing, in the moment you almost choked up—but you’d waited ten years for this moment, you weren’t going to waste it. 

As you placed a single flower on top of Jake Hangman Seresin coffin, you smirked just enough to stifle a maniacal laugh. Leaning in, you kissed the top of the coffin and whispered just loud enough that you would be the only person living to hear the last words ever spoken to Jake Seresin. The piece of shit he was. 

“You aren’t even good enough for the worms—“ You paused, this was it. Your final goodbye. You felt a weight lifting from your shoulder as you looked to the sky, feeling the warmth of the sun on your skin for what felt like the first time in ten years. “Fuck you, Seresin.” You tapped the wings your daughter had smacked into the coffin. 

“Rot in hell.” 

***~***~***~**~***~***~***~***~***~***~

[becoming-persephone]

WHAT IT MEANS TO DIE.

I no longer fear death. I fear falling.

In June 2023 I was diagnosed with GBS triggered by Lupus which left me paralyzed. Trapped, a mind wandering a hollow vessel as my body attacked my nerves and my muscles withered away. I couldn't speak, eat, or even lift a finger. I was buried alive.

I went from being a yogini and hiker to laying in a hospital bed with my family having to suction my salvia as I watched Housewives on Bravo. My 3 1/2 months in the hospital, in and out of the ICU, was an experience equivalent to walking the depths of hell.

I remember the day before I was rushed to the ICU for only having 1/2 of 1 lung working, three crows visited my window. The fates coming to collect, my mother saw it as an omen, I saw it as a welcoming. I traveled for months in the underworld, burning away my old self with a fever that created an inferno underneath my flesh.

Tears couldn't extinguish the anguish, for it was a death that needed to occur in order for me to heal. Hand in hand with Persephone, I looked at the destruction of my life and began to till the soil. Doubts and fear in hand, I dug up my old roots. I knew deep down that I would never be the same, that the girl everyone knew before was gone, disintegrated in the ashes of yesterday.

Coming home from the hospital was like walking into someone else life and feeling out of place. I was a stranger to the past. You know it's all your stuff but none of it feels like you anymore. Everything became a reminder that I died and I didn't know who the old me was anymore, memories that I had no desire in resurrecting.

4 months in rehabilitation was a mountainous climb that felt never ending. Even Hekate and Persephone couldn't keep the demons away, the parasitic thoughts that latched on anytime I fell, or couldn't lift a tissue from a tissue box. But I was able to take those acidic shadows as reminders that strength is born in the struggle. With every breakdown there was a breakthrough.

From my journey to the underworld and back, I learned that in the darkness the divine resides. We are born from that darkness and it is in that darkness we will lay to rest. Till then, I gaze upon my shadow with pride, for it is a reminder of where I've been and where I'm heading.

_

Current Updates: December 2023 was the last time I was in my wheelchair, February 2024 was the last time I used my platform walker, and June 2023 was the first time I climbed a mountain since getting sick.

[pinkwright]

true colours | shuri udaku.

ƸӜƷ

starboy set : chapter seven

pairing — panther!shuri x dj!y/n

trope — best friends 2 lovers

inspo — true colours by the weeknd

warnings —flirty!reader (she gets bitches yall!!) but she’s so soft w/ shuri, mentions of alcohol, soft like supaaa soft but cocky!shuri, confident!shuri, confident!reader, gets angsty for a bit but overall pretty soft n fluffy, fingering (reader receiving), possessive!shuri but subtle, soft dom!shuri, touchy!shuri, love as always, kissing, lots of biting action from shuri, noisy!reader, confessions, girlfriend kink (?), verbal kink, crying, reader has like diff ways of carrying herself depending on her mood but she’s only vulnerable n shit around shuri, shuri loves everything about reader don’t get it twisted incl. her diff personas, reader likes to pull away from emotions that make her vulnerable aka she’s avoidant lol.

a/n —i tried to keep the smut cutesy n lovey but idk how well i did… hope u like it anon ! <3 p.s if there’s errors its bc i could barely read it back without lowks cringing but we move !

⟢˚ @mbakuetshurisprincess @inmyheadimobsessed @letitias-fav @barkbarkbo @shurismainbxtch @verachii @rxcently @shuriszn @lppriceisright @motheroffae @naomis-daydream @vampzxi @marsolgy @mysticalmarss @abenomeiiii @6-noir @laurensmabel1 @vexoshuri @saintwrld @ilovelulu @sookiesookie @ziayamikaelson @sapphicvqmpires @locoforshuri @ventingfanfics @melanated-queens @cuddl3s4shur1 (some usernames wouldn't pick up so apologies if u wanted a tag n its not here </3)

ஜ

and i understand, baby girl, we all have a past, i'd much rather hear the truth come straight from you. so, if i love you; it'd be just for you.

shuri’s hand tenderly brushes up and down the expanse of your calf, a soft sigh escaping your lips as you relax further into the plush cotton pillows below you, eyes fluttering as you inhale the gentle scent of roses and cedar wood, her signature scent.

the atmosphere is calming, providing a gentle soothing caress to the restlessness you find only settles when it’s within her embrace, the warmth of her touch pushes your gaze to sweep the room – the cosy conversation pit mirrored the rest of shuri’s apartment by truly embodying her, a living spatial visual of her.

the space was tastefully designed, with warm tones complemented by minimal cool-toned decorative items and scattered with luscious plants, evocative artworks, and ritualistic carpets. the living space was a visual representation of shuri udaku – warm, gentle, overflowing with love and artistry that revived hibernating stars in unsuspecting gazes, and planted seeds of life in barren soils; embodying the sun that warmed the earth.

she was unaware of the depth of her influence, unaware of the unforgiving edges she eroded to make people, hardened by the cruelty of the world, delicate again. just like the space she resided in, she was a breath of fresh air, living proof of the existence of hope, but she was also an uncontrollable fire despite the tenderness; a dangerous, burning flame of courage and redemption.  

you heave out a deep breath, your eyes shutting almost painfully to attempt to alleviate your heavy heart from the pitiful weight of your despondency; she wasn’t even aware. the loss of hope, in itself, is a difficult emotion to tame, settling in the expansion of your ribcage and corrupting the pump of your lifeline, the housing vessel for dreams, with grief. that’s why you find that it was better this way, better to close off the dainty muscle before she can experience desolation like heartbreak; what is rehabilitation to preservation, truly?

“y/n?”

her voice cuts through your thoughts, halting the train of the self-preservation versus self-isolation argument your mind had begun to board and you open your eyes, blinking away the colourful spots in your vision as you allow yourself to gaze upon her. her eyebrows are scrunched in worry, her keen and dark eyes are trailing your tense figure, her hand squeezing the softness of your calf as her lips form a gentle pout, and you force your body to relax despite the intensity of emotions threatening to drag you into their depths.

“are you alright, s’thandwa?”

your lips part as the menacing ocean begins to recede, the emotional tide ebbing away at the sound of your salvation; their damnation, and you can breathe again, feeling as though you’ll be dragged into the depths of those attentive eyes instead, and as always accompanied with her presence, you feel as though you don’t mind drowning as long as it’s with her.

“i’m better now.”

the gentle smile that traces your lips, the caress of your undoubting words, calms the anxiety that had risen in shuri, the girl reaching her hand towards your own, sighing in contentment at the comfort brought forth by your hand settling in hers, her thumb affectionately swiping over your knuckles as she returns your sentiment.

you sit up from your laying position, shuri’s hand on your calf travelling with the movement until it settles on the outside skin of your thigh, your hips sliding along the couch to bring your torsos closer together, to quell your body’s craving for her intimacy in the only way that platonic boundaries allow.

shuri hums as the movement forces your legs to fall between her spread thighs, your body pressing against her side as your head dips to rest against the curve of her neck, arms stretching to wrap around her waist as you allow her scent to engulf you. the candles lightly burn on the table in the pit, the vintage player spinning the soft tune of the vinyl record around the room, and there’s nowhere else you would rather be.

“are you going to tell me what’s going on in your pretty head?”

the words are coated in the inquisitive curiosity that betrays shuri’s genius, and the sentiment makes your smile widen, your head shaking instinctually as you force yourself to lightly dodge the clear invitation for vulnerability. although you had been vulnerable with the royal countless times before, every time you let your carefully crafted persona slip, you find it harder to pull away from her embrace, and as a result the pit of your demise is dug deeper by nothing but your own hand.

“just thinking about my set last night.”

there’s a teasing lilt to your voice as the lie slips through, your chin lifting to rest on shuri’s shoulder as you gaze through the window opposite you, and the vast view kissed by the orange of the sun’s easy descent subconsciously pulls the night to the forefront of your mind.

the pink drink entering your peripheral vision has you slightly turning to trail your eyes along the arm outstretched towards you, the smirk on the girl’s pretty face causing one of your own to form as you wrap your fingers around the chilled glass, shooting a flirtatious wink as you set the beverage a little distance away from your sound desk.

“thanks, angel. here’s a song just for you because you’re so sweet to me.”

your voice is low and enticing as your gaze shifts to the board in front of you, manicured nails lifting to work your magic, your eyebrow raises in amusement when the girl practically vibrates in glee, an endearing squeal drowning under the bass of the beginning notes of your next track.

the club lit up in excitement as you fiddle with the keys, your hand lifting to wrap around your headset as you mix, your hips swaying as your lips wrap around the sensual lyrics, the gloss glittering under the strobe lights and you find yourself reaching that headspace where music is the only thing that runs through you, guiding your body in a way that had the club entranced.

a wide smirk is on your face as the crowd anticipates every bass drop along with you, your hands sliding the headset to rest around your neck as you find yourself entering a flirty dance with the crowd of intoxicated individuals, your lids dropping into a confident sultry gaze as you mix for your last track.

just as the bass drops and the mass of people lose themselves in the reverberating frequencies of the end of your set – arms are sliding around your shifting waist, warm hands pressing against the bare skin of your stomach to press your hips against their crotch and the cool of her rings against your skin makes you shiver, a sweet smile flashing from you as she pulls you away with her.

“shuri!” your voice is laced with giggles as she spins you around to grab your hands, guiding you with a cheeky smile on her face as she walks backwards to keep her gaze pinned to you, eyes swiping down your body as your hips swing against the taunting material.

the heat in her gaze makes your head spin and you avert your eyes from hers when you feel the cool breeze wisp against the heat of your skin, and shuri leans against the driver’s door of her sleek car pulling you against her, ensuring her eyes never leave your face.

her hands slide along your arms to bring them to rest around her neck as she pulls you into her embrace, her fingers pressing into the softness of the dip of your waist, her nose skimming along your neck as she exhales words into the air, tender words that caress your heated skin as her lips brand them into the organ, words you couldn’t find the strength to respond to.

“pretty girl, as much as i adore this colour of you, i’m eager to embrace the colour of you that shies beneath that complex palette of different facets of yourself; the one just for me.”

the blunt nails that scratch lightly against your skin snap you out of your daydream, your eyes flitting sheepishly from the window to meet shuri’s, the contemplative frown on her face makes your resolve break, and you find her calling forth your softening, your hand lifting to smooth the crease between her brows before dropping to her pout, placing your thumb on the corner of her lips to curl it into a stretchy smile.

“don’t like it when you’re not smiling.”

your voice is petulant and bordering on a whine and shuri finds it so endearing that her lips are twitching uncontrollably into a real smile, her head shaking as she chuckles, and her eyes are scrunching as she pushes into your space, her forehead coming to rest against yours. her laughs force a few light giggles out of your lips, your arms reaching to wrap around her shoulders as you try to shift closer to the source of your joy, your sounds wisping in the air, intertwining into the dance of two souls that find each other in every life.

shuri can’t resist the familiar urge when your fingers dig into her unruly curls to softly scratch against her scalp, so she’s lifting her hand to bring your free hand to your lap, playing with the fingers between your bodies. your hands were cold – they always were. shuri finds herself smiling when she stares at the choreography both of your hands dip into; her warmth vs your cool, her organised tattoos versus your chaotic tattoos, the instinctual way you let her guide you, the gentle relax of you into her grip – indescribable familiarity.

the small act was one shuri tried to avoid – how such a trivial action could evoke such a vicious reaction was beyond her scientific understanding; for every action there is a reaction – a physical phenomenon she could recite like mantra of hope her heart chanted to ensure her that you were within her reach, that the ocean she drowned in was bearable because it was for you.

but the law didn’t account for the imbalance between the actor and the reactor when it manifested within the boundaries of human ideology, how was it possible that she saw the oppositions between you and instead of taking it as that, a disruption in her human experience; the vessel she usually chose to ignore, saw your hard edges as tools to carve the raw edges of herself, gifts that would erode her into love but not just typical love – your image of love, the perfect embodiment to what you envision the unforgiving idea of love to look like, and vice versa.

“bast, i love you.”

if shuri hadn’t let the wave of her infatuation with you crest into the calm of the atmosphere and allowed it to fall as an uncontrollable spill of words and anxious emotions, she would’ve found the way you shot up comical, chuckled heartedly at the way your lips part on a loud gasp that echoes through her ears but she had, and the gut-wrenching twist of her stomach served as a more fitting response.

but like the damning, brittle spirit she was, hope pushed her to continue because despite the unsettling reaction, the little flickering flame of longing within her was still burning, still hoping and as a consequence, all she could think about was how much she needed you, how much her love for you carved through her restraints until it all but spilled from her lips.

at your silence, her head turns away from you, finding your gaze hard to hold so she settled for resting her head against the backrest of the couch. the hurried sentences jumble into a mess that your shock struggled to discern, but your heart caught on quickly, selfishly absorbing the words you didn’t think you were deserving of, and the muscle pumping in your chest, crawled its way up your throat, the canal tightening to control the overwhelming spread of emotion tingling through your limbs.

“loved you for so long, y/n.”

she exhales heavily, her eyes fluttering open as she gazes at the ceiling, “last night, when i described you as a colour palette, i meant that. you’re this bright array of colours, a spectrum of different personas and auras that are ever evolving and i can’t- i can't figure you out because of it. but i love it, bast, i love how complex and intricate you are in everything that you do and everything that you are, everything that you embody is true to yourself and your beliefs; its dauntingly admirable.”

her hand tightens its hold on you, squeezing your leg before she continues and her next words steal the breath from your lungs, “you’re everything i believe love to be, the final iteration of what everything celestial intended for love to be. i love you so deeply, s’thandwa. you breathe the air into my lungs, you spoke life over my barren grave and brought my buried soul back to life, you rid me of the burdens of my grievances in a way that provided me freedom that ceases to exist outside the world you’ve created for me, freedom this world could only conjure in the dreams its people use to escape its harsh reality.”

“my love for you made me ache, it made me hurt, it made me grow but, above all, it bathed me in a warmth bast herself couldn’t even begin to replicate.”

when shuri hears the choked sob that spills from your lips, she’s quickly sitting up to gather you in her arms, her words cutting off abruptly as she brings your legs to rest on either side of her hips and then she’s cradling you against her, holding the back of your head as she rocks you gently, careful in how she handles the only thing that keeps her racing heart, beating.

“shh, i’m sorry, my love, forgive me. i’m so sorry, baby.”

the words are whispered into your locs, the remorse coating them forces a sound of indignation to flow through your tear-filled hiccups, your arms wrapping aggressively around her neck to pull her towards you, and the grunt she lets out makes you smile lightly as you hold her against you for several moments, pulling back when the salty tears tracking your cheeks halt in their descent.

you trail your gaze intently across her face, your heart cracking at the pure desolation coating her delicate but strong features, your hands rise to cup her cheeks and your thumbs stroke the skin under her eyes, before leaning forward to brush your nose against hers, feeling the shaky exhale of her warm breath against your lips as you speak.

“you never could tell the difference between happy tears and sad tears.”

shuri can’t hide the shock from you, her jaw dropping as she gasps softly, her deep eyes widening ever so slightly, and the sight makes you laugh through your tears, the sound wet but joyful, lightly strumming the chords of the strings holding shuri and yourself to one another.

after the stunned girl seems to understand exactly what your words imply, there’s a blinding grin overtaking her face and your mind blanks on just how otherworldly she was; crafted with grace, and meticulous thought that served to prove the existence of celestial divinity, sewn together by the finest artisans the universe had to offer – she takes your breath away.

shuri’s giggling in drunken disbelief and you echo her, hearts pounding in unison, eager to escape the cages encasing them to interlace with the others; bond to complete the ideograph of affection – mirrors of one another, similar but inverted, the same with complementary differences. her hand curls around your nape to guide your foreheads together, inhaling deeply as she brushes her nose against yours.

“when i kiss you, s’thandwa, it means i’m unequivocally yours.”

she breathes the statement against your lips, your breath catching in your throat as she stares at your full lips with that unrivalled intensity, the notion of her words digging into the pit of your stomach as you hold your breath in anticipation, “no more of this dancing around each other because you would be mine too. do you want that, pretty girl, with me?”

her hands are firm in their grip, gently sliding across the heating skin of your thighs as she pins you with her gaze, you nod at her question and the familiar weight of craving is invading your touch, it forces your grip to dig into her shoulders, pressing your body against hers as you silently plead for her lips on yours. but as much as shuri basks in your barely suppressed desperation, she had to hear you say it, had to have you know exactly what allowing her to touch you entailed.

“talk to me, my love, you know how to use that pretty mouth.”

when a whimper slips through your lips, shuri’s mouth is twisting into a smirk, her hands squeezing your skin as she barely brushes her lips against yours, humming when the pleas slip into her awaiting mouth, and she’s bringing her hand to wrap around your throat, gently moulding her lips against yours, groaning at the way you fit perfectly against her.

your hands fist the material on her shoulders as a whine you let slip is swallowed by shuri’s soft lips, her salacious mouth coaxing a swell of sensations behind your chest that serve to stir a familiar warmth in your core, heat licking at the pulse between your legs.

“shuri… i-” you’re cutting yourself off with a whimper when her teeth sink into the pillow of your bottom lip, dragging it into her warm mouth with a hum, her hands greedily sliding up your loose shirt to feel the warm skin of your waist, and her touch makes you squirm, your thighs clenching on her lap as you gasp.

“what do you want, my love?”

her voice is taunting, and it makes your hips buck against her, your eyes shutting when her lips pull away from yours to let you breathe, pressing a few languid pecks between your needy gasps before sliding down to glide her swelling lips against your neck, sinking her teeth into the line of your pulse, coaxing the warm liquid to the surface of your skin.

your hands are frantic as they slide beneath the oversized silk shirt sitting on her strong shoulders, your nails dragging down her skin, and digging into the curling warm muscles of her back, a grunt pressing into your skin as shuri detaches her lips from you. your head spins as she pulls back to look at you, her blunt nails scratching against your waist as she sighs in restraint and you whine the words out, eager to have her touch you again.

“touch me. touch me, please, shuri, i need you.”

the sadistic part of shuri wants to drag you mercilessly to state specifics but her tenderness and desperation for you overpowers the desire, so she slides her fingers along the hem of your loose pants, her eyes gauging your reaction and humming in satisfaction when your hips buck up and you slip your prettily bruising bottom lip into your mouth.

your breath hitches as she slips her hand over your bare ass, squeezing the flesh before she’s barely brushing her fingers over your entrance, moaning at the sheer wetness that coats her fingers, your awaiting hole clenching viciously in anticipation, and the moan that slips passed your lips is filthy, needy, laced with desperation that makes shuri coo at you.

the thoughts in your mind are spinning at her soft, gentle coaxes, your hips stuttering when she slips her fingers into you, pumping through the soft velvet as her eyes bore into yours, your eyelashes fluttering as your hips cant against her ruthless fingers and you find yourself whimpering at the way she effortlessly tears you apart.

“been aching to love on you, angel, aching to claim this pretty pussy." she curls her fingers to press into your spot, your gasp getting her drunk on you and your pathetic little noises, "bast, you’re so needy baby, this cunt needed me just as bad, hm?” she tuts in faux sympathy.

“please. i need more, please, please.”

the air in your lungs is burning hot as your hips stutter, and the pump of your blood is reverberating through your ears, shuri’s deft in the way she works you, the way she wears you down until you’re putty in her hands. the girl lets out a dark chuckle, her lips moving to press against your open mouth as she slides her free hand down the front of your pants, the slim fingers pressing firm circles against your throbbing clit.

"you're so pretty like this, my love, look like a dream when you let me between these pretty legs."

the daze in your head build as you shut your eyes, your hips fighting between fucking back onto her fingers or pressing forward into the firm press against your bud. you gasp wetly into shuri’s mouth, the smirk on her lips intensifying as she brings her teeth to sink into your lips to make you see stars. the slight ache from her teeth on your lips paired with the way her hands are set to ruin you, makes the fire in your stomach burn violently, and you can feel your limbs begin to tremble atop her.

the sight makes shuri hum, before she releases your lip with a soft ‘pop’, “are you going to come, my love?” your pretty eyes shoot open to meet her dark ones, and at your frantic succession of nods, she’s shaking her head at you, laughing at the pathetic cry that flows through your lips at her denial.

“you gotta tell your girlfriend to make you come, baby.”

her words are cocky laced with a taunting depth that drowns your ability to think beyond her, think beyond your girlfriend, her eyebrow raises, and she grunts deeply when your aching pussy clenches around her fingers tightly, your hips stuttering dangerously as you force the words from your panting mouth, feeling the wash of obedience over your shaking figure, the precipice too close for even a sliver of hesistation.

“want my girlfriend to make me come, please, please.”

shuri lets out a dizzying sound at the confession, her cunt clenching as her hips buck up into you, her teeth cutting into your lip enough to draw blood, viscous liquid that has the panther moaning out as her pussy drips at the taste of you, the whimper of pain from your mouth, coaxing a growl from the predator.

and then she’s curling her fingers to drag heavily against the rough tender patch inside you, eager for you to come while she tastes that part of you on her tongue, her other hand harshly circles your sensitive clit before quickening her pace. a sob shoots from your throat, your nails digging into the back of her shoulders as she works you through your orgasm, speaking soft loving words to you, running her lips along your cheekbones, imprinting them into your skin.

“that’s my good fucking girl, coming so prettily for me.”

she’s kissing away the tears running down your cheeks, the buildup of the consuming emotions finding solace in the release brought out of you by your new lover; you dazedly blink up at her as she stares at you, her arms rubbing your quivering thighs in a soothing caress that prompts you to lean forward to lay a soft kiss against her nose, one that has her scoffing in fondness.

“you’re my girlfriend now, s’thandwa sam’. so, stop trying to keep me in the dark when you know i can truly see you, yeah?”

you stare at her intently before nodding shyly, once again, pressing your lips against hers, and the stars that burst behind your eyes and the colours, that paint the expression of your ever-changing being, sing that it’s okay to let your true colours show for her.

paint me a picture with your true colours, these are the confessions of a new lover. true colours, true colours.

ஜ

[reasonsforhope]

Let's get some good shit done: 9/26/23

In the name of encouraging each other, supporting each other, and reminding us all how many ways there are to help - how much each of us can make a difference -

Reply or comment (or add in the tags if you’d prefer) with something you did recently to help the environment, your community, or people who need it. Big or small.

<3

Here’s my version. It's been an unusually good couple weeks I think!

Got certified in CPR and first aid (this was to apply for some jobs but I'm still really glad I did it in general)

Started to once again actually honor my damn commitment to wearing masks in stores and the like (slipped over the summer unfortunately)

Researched soil rehabilitation to teach stuff to my mom

Got my mom to start raking dead leaves onto all the (many, many) bare patches in our backyard. Other steps to follow. Soon the yard is gonna be so much healthier! (I hope!)

Relatedly, stopped my mom from accidentally killing all her herb plants by leaving them somewhere with insufficient sun (nobody ever tell my mom I post about this shit lmao)

About to start applying for some care work jobs (cross your fingers for me)

Called my representatives to tell them not to vote for KOSA, on privacy/human rights reasons

Got "smudging ceremony" instructions cut from a business book by a white and non-Indigenous author, now replaced with smoke cleansing. If I'm very lucky my explanatory lil essay will get the author to make the switch in their own business as well

Actually I think I removed smudging from two different books in the past month? (I'm a book editor for context) So that's always good

Removed some ableist language from those books while I was at it. This kind of thing doesn't always come up, but it's always really nice when I get to actually help fix this stuff

Honestly, one of the things that makes me really heartened and feel hopeful about the future is the way I've seen things shift re: sensitivity edits. When I started working in publishing (less than 10 years ago!), I had to carefully count and ration all of my sensitivity comments/notes to make sure they were taken seriously and that none of my bosses or coworkers got pissed at me

Now, I literally advertise sensitivity edits as one of my specialties up front, I regularly get actively thanked and praised specifically for those notes, and I don't have to hold back at all (tho I do ofc still write them very politely)

We still have a ways to go, but there really has been so much of a change in attitudes on this front, writ large

Anyway, essay over - tell me about the cool things you all did!

[nnctales]

Foundation Rehabilitation: Restoring Strength to the Building's Backbone

Introduction A solid foundation is the backbone of any structure, providing stability and support. However, over time, foundations may experience issues such as settlement, cracking, or deterioration, jeopardizing the structural integrity of the building. Foundation rehabilitation techniques come to the rescue, offering effective solutions to restore strength and stability to these essential…

[darkeagleruins]

This photo shows the speed in which degraded areas of land can be revived using regenerative cattle grazing.

The landowners rehabilitated this eroded gully that formed in their paddock by fencing cattle IN it, instead of out of it.

This is counterintuitive to how we currently look at land management and regeneration. The way in which they did this forms the fundamental methods of regenerative agriculture:

* Intensive grazing undertaken for short periods of time

* Rapid increase of vegetative nutrient cycling through hard hoof trampling in the soil

* Slowing down water flow through creating an uneven surface, reducing erosive potential

* Allowing for rest and recovery periods from grazing.

They achieved this transformation in a period of 2 years. In my previous post on my page, it shows a rehabilitation conservation project that totally removed livestock for a period of 40 years to achieve a similar result.

This method of complete rest and recovery is often referred to as ‘rewilding’.

My argument is that by using well managed regenerative agriculture AND rewilding methods, land can be successfully regenerated at much faster rates than previously assumed.

[cyberdank]

hey do yall want a fun plant fact??

This plant, right? Greater Plantain, scientific name Plantago major?

It's known as "white man's footprint", and the reason is so cool 2 me (Taken from the Wikipedia page for Plantago major):

The plant is native to most of Europe and northern and central Asia,[9][8][2] but has widely naturalised elsewhere in the world.[9][10][11][12][13] Plantago major grows in lawns and fields, along roadsides, and in other areas that have been disturbed by humans. It does particularly well in compacted or disturbed soils. It is believed to be one of the first plants to reach North America after European colonisation. Reportedly brought to the Americas by Puritan colonizers, plantain was known among some Native American peoples by the common name "white man's footprint", because it thrived in the disturbed and damaged ecosystems surrounding European settlements.[14] The ability of plantain to survive frequent trampling and colonize compacted soils makes it important for soil rehabilitation. Its roots break up hardpan surfaces, while simultaneously holding together the soil to prevent erosion.[15] The seeds of plantain are a common contaminant in cereal grain and other crop seeds. As a result, it now has a worldwide distribution.[10]

anyways download iNaturalist and the Seek app if yall like this kind of stuff i am having the time of my life identifying random plants!! i <3 collecting weird little facts about nature it's so fascinating!!

[cyniibar]

Any hcs on Andre and Marie in general? Or maybe hcs on their life in England shortly after escaping France by the end of Rouge?

WOOHOO ! The weekend is finally here! I can answer this question:

Andre is an optimistic little sunshine. He sees light in every aspect of his broken world. And despite his hardships and his endless suffering, his faith in the Lord never faltered for a second. The old man sings hallelujah 24/7 ever since he came to England. Adapted easily, immune to insults and discrimination considering he once was a peasant from the slums of Paris. Andre was very grateful to have experienced a life outside of France. Starting anew, exploring onto foreign soil with his beloved mistress...

Meanwhile his mistress is currently drowning in this depression that awoken a new kind of agony even more unbearable than the torture she underwent through. Marie Joseph feels like she somehow.... lost.

Defeated by Robespierre, and fled like a coward to escape persecution instead of facing it with ferocity and courage like she had in the past when going against most obstacles in her life. Marie Joseph is not one to regret, but oh, is she constantly flooded with thoughts of "what ifs". If only she had made the move first, drew blood first, or perhaps fought back against the iron troops. But the thought that digs knives inside her guts; is that she should've made a figure of herself worth admiring. For her child, at least. Marie Joseph longed to be the mother that Zero was proud of, and looked up to. Because to Marie Joseph, Zero is the one reason for her existence. Hell was heaven when Zero was brought into her world. Now, they were apart forever because Marie Joseph didn't or couldn't attack the Jacobins first.

Also, Marie Joseph is constantly being haunted with the thoughts of Marie Antoinette. Her dreams are plagued by the Dauphine she knew decades ago. And those memories of Antoinette frustrated her. That foolish queen stayed vain and arrogant to the very end, the most infuriating out of all the aristocrats she ever met. Antoinette, the brat who prioritized her nobility, than all the efforts Marie Joseph made to ensure her safety. Then gradually, she goes through a phase of denial; I gave her a choice, and she chose to act on her own selfish wishes. The shallow queen did not deserve any ounce of generosity. Marie Joseph's denial eventually morphs into guilt.

On some occasions, amongst the busy crowd, there would be English girls ranging from 13-18 in age, with rosy complexions, pale blonde curls, dressed with feminine elegance... Marie Joseph would then do a double look, (not in an attracted kind of way, like Humbert Humbert with his nymphette obsessions) but making sure she isn't just seeing Antoinette again.

Marie Joseph had weakened, left paralyzed for a long period because of the torture during the Revolution. She couldn't escape her anguish, let alone exit her room without assistance. The indomitable Marie Joseph Sanson, reduced to an 'old retarded woman'. For a while, she refused any aid from Andre. Pushed him away and dealt with her physical and mental pain herself. Changed her own bandages, rehabilitated her body on her own. Desperate for action and desperate for strength. Soon, she realized she didn't have the ability to be fully independent as she once was. Only then did she reluctantly called for Andre, once in a long while.

Andre like the worried housewife he is, rushed in, face stained with tears while he helped his mistress. An epiphany occurred to Marie Joseph then, that there will be people like Andre to pull her up when ever she's in the lowest of 'pathetic' like this. She learned to appreciate him more and his help, interacting with him the same as before, but just with less insults and mockery and more equal maturity as she grew even older.

Marie Joseph found a purpose later on, with educating children in need. As they reminded her so much of Zero. She found peace. Found the change she so desired. Her relationship with God got better... somewhat. But Marie Joseph was still the same. Still brave and adventurous, and funny and intelligent. Just more sensible. She can't really act on impulses now, her body never recovered fully.

As Marie Joseph was finally having the life she fought so hard to have, she began to battle with an illness that she couldn't avoid. She had accepted her fate. And in her last hours, only Andre was at her side. She reassured him calmly through his sobbing tears, expressed her gratitude for having him remain with her all her life, and passed away with the thoughts of her Zero.

Andre lived on, taking care of the school in memory of the admired teacher Marie Joseph, he told the tales of Marie Joseph Sanson that were eventually forgotten.

[lailoken]

Dressing the Wishing Bush

An important Walpurgis custom of ours has long been the traditional Dressing of the May Bush. This year, though, things have gone a bit differently.

In the past, we would harvest a small branch of blooming Hawthorn on April 30, which we would set before the home and decorate with Clooties. We would ideally ornament the living Matron Whitethorn by our front gate, but we have been discouraged from drawing attention to her unnecessarily, lest we risk attracting the unwelcome. As such, we've used a small switch from the Matron tree each year.

This year, however, we were given leave to harvest a special thorn-broom from her central bole that we've admired for years. We will dry this specimen, following today's celebration, and reuse it every year. What's more, we have been guided in establishing a different form of the May Bush, and so was born the Wishing Bush.

We used keys to represent an array of wishes for the coming year—however small—which we consecrated and tied with colorful loops of charm-knotted cord. These keys were then hung from the Hawthorn and earnest entreaty was given to the Whitethorn Mother, that She might help bring these wishes to fruition. On the next day, the cords will be cut and burned in the smoldering remnants of the Hexennacht Fire—that the Hawhthorn-blessed wishes might be carried on the wind to the powers that be. The keys, in turn, will be cleansed in hallowed waters, for future use.

EDIT: Multiple powerful omens ended up making it clear that this harvested "thorn-broom" was not meant to be dried, but was instead meant to be rooted and transplanted—most potent amongst which was the segment beginning to put out new growth after 9 days of being in a warm greenhouse with no water or soil. Despite initial fear that we heeded these omens too late to save the segment of Hawthorn (which was doing very poorly everywhere but that single branch of new growth) we managed to rescue and rehabilitate it with weeks of vigilant care. I think it should be ready to re-pot by the coming Walpurgis.

[askvectorprime]

Has any transformer ever become President of the United States? Some of them WERE technically born in the US

Dear Presidentially Persistent,

In one universe, it was Laser Cycle who made history by becoming the first Cybertronian ever to run for president. Like most Cybertronians of the era, she was born on Earth, part of the “second generation” of post-war Cybertronians constructed through a fusion of Human, Nebulan, and Cybertronian technology. And like many other Cybertronians on the East Coast, she owed her existence to the Powell Motorworks Quantum Laboratories Cyberfactory in Pittsburgh, the third-largest facility of its kind in the nation. When a wave of factionalism threatened to rekindle the Great War on Terran soil, she was one of the many Transformers who chose to side with the Autobots.

With the end of the Machine Wars and the ratification of the Pax Cybertronia in the year 2013, Earth and Cybertron prepared to enter an unprecedented era of peace, prosperity, and alliance-building. However, after decades of geopolitical chaos, not all humans regarded the Autobots as benevolent protectors. Many humans came to regard the Cyberfactories as symbols of “alien oppression”—complexes that stole Earth’s own resources to build an army of resource-gobbling aliens. Power-hungry politicians such as Megan Guiglione’s Earth First party rode to power on a wave of populist rhetoric, while the Terran Coalition, which advocated peaceful cooperation between humans and aliens, struggled to rebound from a string of political losses.

When not working her day job as a food courier, Laser Cycle leveraged her take-charge personality and oratory skills to become a community organizer. In the year 2048, she made history when she ran for office and became the representative for Pennsylvania’s 18th congressional district; in doing so, she became the first Earth-born Cybertronian to hold office. In 2062, Senator Cycle announced, to much fanfare, that she would run for President as a member of the Terran Coalition—if she won, she would become the first non-human leader of the United States. After a particularly heated convention, Laser Cycle emerged as the frontrunner and entered the 2064 presidential primaries against Earth First representative Terence Berger.

During the primaries, Laser Cycle promised that she would work to build alliances with Nebulos and Cybertron, while taking conciliatory stances on a number of controversial political issues—these included offering amnesty and rehabilitation programs for captured members of Jhiaxus’s clone army, increased access to mental health services for ex-Headmasters, and de-escalating tensions between the United States and the Sino-Soviet Alliance. But after a strong start, factors beyond her control threatened to stymie the Cycle campaign.

In January 2064, a long-range EDC patrol reported an encounter with a rogue Decepticon ship that had somehow slipped past Earthen sensors—while the “ship” was little more than an old scow, crewed by three Decepticons who hadn’t yet heard the war had ended, the incident nevertheless alarmed many constituents, who found themselves gravitating to Berger’s pro-rearmament proposal.

The second threat came from Cybertron itself. In the post-war years, Cybertron had undergone something of a religious revival; in particular, many Transformers were attracted to the teachings of Heretech, a repentant ex-Decepticon who had rededicated his life to preaching Reversionism. However, his theology espoused that the only “real” Cybertronians were those who’d been constructed from the sacred metals of the homeworld—those constructed on worlds like Nebulos or Earth were pale imitations of “true” Cybertronians, who had never basked in the warming glow of Vector Sigma. Laser Cycle’s campaign, he decreed, was a direct affront to Cybertron itself, an attempt to dilute the inherent purity of their race. While many Cybertronians wrote these words off as mere bigotry, some were swayed by his rhetoric. Even some Autobots held a kind of vague resentment towards the second generation—after all, they’d spent years fighting the Decepticons in deep space, while their successors lived the peaceful, comfortable lives they’d never known.

Finally, on November 4, 2064, the election was held. While Laser Cycle secured the majority of the Cybertronian vote, as the polls foretold, low voter turnout meant that she ultimately didn’t clinch the final tally required to win the race. Graceful in defeat as well as victory, she offered a congratulatory telephone call to her opponent. Berger governed for three years, until a scandal involving the sordid history of his great-grandfather Shawn led to him resigning in disgrace. Still, Laser Cycle was the first to seriously introduce the American people to the idea of a Cybertronian in office—and by the year 2109, many felt that only an Autobot would be able to save Earth from the impending threat of the Swarm… but that’s a story for another time, I think.

[clochanam]

no but the idea of aisling's home becoming a rehabilitation centre for antagonists is so wild and yet i love it too. like the idea that herself and annalise decide to get some kind of boundary for the diner where it's like. the grounds of the diner and the apartment aren't necessarily american soil. so if someone needs refuge, they can go to the diner and just stay there, and even if the police know about it, they can't arrest them or interrogate them within that perimeter, because it works like any country that won't extradite people back to america. and it works perfectly, because if the person is genuinely a bad person, aisling just kicks their ass and returns them outside the limit to be arrested, but if they're in genuine need of help, she'll help them and let annalise negotiate conditions with law enforcement until they reach a good compromise.

[leaves-fall-down]

I am not trying to fearmonger in how I say this, it is merely a warning about how the genocide in Gaza will be used in the future by the United States. Yes, used. Specifically, how the prominent figures will be used.

First, the United States is potentially going to make an enemy out of Motaz Azaiza. I say Motaz specifically in this example, because he has been the most unrelenting and has shown the most horror, although it could really be any prominent Palestinian. Much like how previous "enemies" of the United States have been looked into and written up in the FBI files, I suspect the same has happened to Motaz by now. I suspect that, should he survive the genocide, Motaz will not be allowed onto United States soil, or if he is that he will be watched heavily, potentially for the rest of his life. Motaz is in the "enemy" box right now as far as the United States is concerned.

And then, in fourty or so odd years, when the United States has decided they need rehab and to declare themselves better, not out of genuine remorse but to justify the next rounds of evil in something else, they will shower him. Awards, honors, etc. Those awards will not actually be for Motaz but rather the United States, for the United States to pretend they are better and to provide rehabilitation to the image of the US and to aid the revisionist history they will inevitably do, as a tool to lie by omission to our school children. Should he spend extended time in the US or decide to live here, he might even get a government holiday when he passes. They'll release the file they'll have on him so they can pretend they're owning up the mistakes of the past as though they aren't old tricks. They'll do everything to make it seem as though they've learned and now respect him. It will not be about him at all but rather it will be PR for the United States.

The US will use the Palestinian people and their story to aid their future conquests and endeavors, claiming they've learned and repented, while preventing you or making you feel bad about comparing past atrocities they've aided/caused in Palestine to whatever the next one will be. "We learned!" They will tell you. "They gave Motaz an honor! They have a holiday for him!" They'll argue. This will be a trick, a trick the United States has beyond perfected.

You, my friend, have a responsibility to see this and any other forms of revision and rehabilitation for what it is when it happens.