#Farmers associations

[ryllen]

liker of peculiar thing

[fridaydevils]

💘 I associate a lot of the In Utero album with CSM…..

[wist-eri]

// undertale yellow neutral route spoilers

• • •

quick question!

which character has the most messed up distorted sprite in the meta flowey fight and why is it starlo (i jest)

no but really. i feel like his distorted ver is so different?? from the others??

instead of his face straight up being blocked out / erased it’s just,,, completely covered in vines. his whole body too if you look closely. the only distorted version that does something similar is gardener (which makes sense because of the plants and everything else in her design), but my question is why starlo out of all people, and why is it to this magnitude? also weirdly enough, i think as a still image starlo’s is the least glitched out compared to the other heavily distorted characters that appear in the neutral route boss fight

obviously there are other clearer ones like dalv, el baliador, etc but those are more off-putting. starlo’s just looks really abstract and messed up (in a really good way)

[thalassophiliascripte]

texas hold me

Balor/Female Farmer, 2k, read on ao3 here

With Eiland intoxicated, there's no one to run Dungeons and Drama. Balor has another suggestion for how the group could spend their Friday Night - and there's definitely no ulterior motives there.

Friday nights at the inn were always interesting, but there was an arcing electric current in the air tonight.

Perhaps it had something to do with the drinks being half-off. Perhaps it had something to do with the kids being off camping in the Western Ruins. (Maple had seen the ancient circlet and the lost Aldarian crown in the museum, and insisted they go camping to see if she could find a real royal crown for herself.)

Perhaps it had nothing to do with either of those facts, and more to do with the warmth along her side where she was leaning against Balor. Eiland had stumbled in from talking to the kids at the ruins and plunked himself down at the bar—so Dungeons and Drama was cancelled for the night. Adeline had wandered over to ask him what was going on, but the wild look in his eyes and the muttered comment about Dell was enough to send her back over to the newly-emptied Dungeons table shaking her head.

“I’m not sure what happened, but it couldn’t have been anything good to leave Eiland looking like that,” she said. Then she clapped her hands together. “Even if we can’t play, we need to find something to do. I’ve set aside the next few hours on my calendar to have fun, so let’s get to it!”

“Right,” Aryn replied. “Right.” Technically she wasn’t officially part of the game, but Eiland had asked her to voice an NPC a few weeks ago, and then the rest of the players had been enchanted with her small gnomish barbarian, and dragged her along with them as they pursued their next objective, so she also needed to find another form of entertainment for the evening.

Balor watched the other table with a wistful look in his eyes, which he then turned on the remaining Dungeons and Drama players—which was only Celine, Aryn, and Adeline at this point.

Holt had pulled up a chair behind his wife, and with Olric watching his brother at the bar, she was slowly piling up a ridiculous number of poker chips while he watched her with shining eyes. Juniper and Valen leaned on one another, having taken the blacksmith brother’s place, and steadily descending further into drunken hysteria from the frequency of their giggling.

“It’s been such a long time since I was able to play a round of poker,” he sighed.

Aryn glanced at Adeline, then at the boys at the bar. Reina was still serving them drinks, but when Aryn caught her eye, she winced and slowly shook her head while miming taking another drink.

“We could play a round,” she said slowly, “but only if you get Olric, March, and Eiland over here to join us.”

Balor followed her gaze toward the bar, and grimaced. “I’m not certain how good they’ll be for it,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll try though—the doctor is off duty, and there’s nobody that can help if they drink themselves unconscious.”

Aryn watched him at the bar for a few minutes, having some sort of hushed conversation with the drinkers. March’s face flushed an interesting shade of red, and Eiland was nodding before Balor had finished the offer. Then he nearly slid off his stool. Balor had to steady him as he made his way over to the table. March and Olric followed, leaning on each other.

“Good old-fashioned poker is all well and good,” Balor began once he’d gotten back to their table. “But we were talking over by the bar, and we’d be able to just rotate in to the other table if we wanted to do that. So, does anyone care to wager something a little more…interesting?”

It just so happened that the last of his announcement left Balor murmuring in Aryn’s ear. His breath tickled the hair on the nape of her neck. She bit the inside of her lip in a desperate bid to avoid shivering.

“What did you have in mind?” Aryn asked. Balor hummed, and stroked his chin theatrically. Before he could say anything, Adeline interrupted him.

“Not drinks.”

He tsked. “You make a good point, Adeline, but that’s no fun.”

“We could attempt Caldosian variant poker,” Eiland hiccuped. “They didn’t wager for coin or chips—really, it was a fascinating byproduct of their non-monetary economy. Depending on your social class, in order to procure goods and services you might engage in a barter economy or a gift economy, which also created a disparity in the variety of good available to the common man—” Eiland trailed off. “What was I saying?”

Balor raised an eyebrow. “So you suggest we make no wagers?”

Eiland snapped his fingers, “Ah right! I was talking about poker! No, I was suggesting we go with something non-monetary. Like—” he waved his hands around “—like favors or something.”

March muttered something indecipherable, his face mushed into his brother’s bicep. “March says he’s hot,” Olric volunteered. March reached up to stroke Olric’s face.

“Shh, shh—you didn’t have to tell them that,” he slurred, before breaking into giggles. “I’m always hot. ‘S a part of bein’ a blacksmith.”

It was Balor’s turn to snap his fingers. Aryn knew that he and Eiland spent time together—but had Balor picked the habit up from Eiland, or had Eiland picked it up from Balor? “I know!” He leaned forward, and set his chin in his hands, devilish grin spreading across his face. “Has anyone played strip poker before? It’s a passing lark that people like to play in the Capital.”

Aryn flushed. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Balor draped an arm across her shoulders. “Ari, Ari, Ari. Of course it’s a good idea.” There was a strange intensity to his gaze.

“I can’t,” mumbled Celine.

“What?”

“I can’t!” Celine wailed. “My parents are right there!” She dropped her forehead against the tabletop. “I really want to play though. It sounds like fun.”

She was probably tipsy too—her cheeks had been awfully red before she’d face-planted onto the table. “We could go somewhere else?” Aryn suggested, hoping that she could pick up some water before they left and then—she might be able to sober up her friends before they went back home.

Adeline tapped her chin. “The park maybe? Near the old oak tree with the swing? It’s close enough to town that we shouldn’t get into any trouble, and still a decent ways away from where the kids are camping.”

“Sounds good to me,” Aryn shrugged.

As they left, Aryn made eye contact with Ryis, and cocked her head—a silent invitation. He shook his head, and gestured at Landen, who was leaning heavily on his shoulder. She shrugged again, and turned back toward the rest of her friends. It would have been nice for Ryis to come, but, in turn, he was too nice to leave Landen alone while drunk. She’d stop by in the morning to check in on him and tell him any embarrassing details from whatever was about to happen, she promised herself.

The night air was brisk on her face, as they made their way through the town toward the park. The clear sky sent shafts of moonlight across the paving stones, and Aryn was struck by the thought that it would be very nice to have someone’s hand in hers. There weren’t many crickets left, but the ones who lived to brave the early autumn chill were playing their hearts out in the otherwise still air. Balor’s arm brushed up against her side, and then his pinky looped through hers.

She hoped the cool air kept her from blushing. ***

They wound up in a lopsided circle in the moonshadow of the old oak tree in the park. March was splayed out on the ground with his head in Olric’s lap, snoring gently, and Olric had waved himself out of the game with a sheepish look at his brother. Eiland was doing slightly better than March, though that was partially the result of Adeline filling up his flask with water every time he wasn’t paying attention. He’d likely had about two or three flasks-worth of water, and they were clearly helping level him out.

Celine, on the other hand, kept bursting into random fits of giggles. She was lucky that she was the one sitting against the trunk of the tree, since Aryn had her doubts that she’d be able to stay upright by herself otherwise.

Balor flicked open the box of cards, and began to shuffle with practiced movements. His slender fingers and dexterous hands left the cards practically flying through the air, and if Aryn had to guess, he was showing off quite unnecessarily as he finished shuffling.

“How do we do this?” asked Adeline.

***

Things derailed quickly. It only took a half-round, actually.

Celine and Eiland were both overconfident drunks.

Olric was glancing wide-eyed between Celine and Eiland, who’d both lost their shirts, and in Eiland’s case, his cape. “I think it’s time that I take March home,” he stammered. And then he proved that his muscles weren’t just for show, as he hoisted his brother over his shoulder and booked it for their house.

“To be fair, he lasted longer than I expected him to,” said Celine. Aryn snickered, and anted up.

“Poor Olric,” said Adeline. “And March wasn’t any help.” She tossed her last few chips in the palm of her hand, weighing them, then sighed. “I’m out.”

Balor narrowed his eyes at Aryn, and dropped another round of chips in the pot. Struck by sudden burst of confidence, Aryn caught and held Balor’s eyes while she shimmied out of her shirt, and dropped it onto the pot.

Eiland wrinkled his brow. “I thought you were supposed to bet on what you’re taking off before the round ended. Or have I been doing this wrong?” He glanced mournfully at where his cape had been folded up neatly with the other stripped clothing, and shivered.

“I didn’t think it was fair that you and Celine were already shirtless,” she said, and thanked her lucky stars that she’d worn her cutest bra—despite the fact that the lace was annoying—since it was the last clean one before she did laundry the next morning. It was nice letting it dry while she was at Saturday Market.

Eiland’s eyes remained narrowed, and his brow remained wrinkled, but he didn’t say anything else.

“I’m out,” Celine sighed after looking at her cards. “I’m having terrible luck tonight.” She leaned back against the tree and closed her eyes. After a moment, she started to snore softly. “In that case—” Balor laid out his cards. A royal flush. Again. Somehow, Aryn didn’t think that it was an accident that Balor had been sent over to the Dungeons and Drama table and as far away from the poker game as possible. Damn him and his pretty hands.

She sighed, and dropped her two pair on the ground. “Another round?”

Adeline stood up as Balor started gathering cards. “I’d love to, but I’ve run out of fun-hours, and I should take Eiland home so that Elsie can laugh at him and help him sober up a bit so he’s not totally out of it tomorrow.”

Eiland frowned. “I’m fine—” he started, then Adeline pulled him to his feet. He clutched his head and groaned. “Nevermind. Lead the way.”

Ah. So it was just her and Balor. That was—fine—everything was fine. She wished that she hadn’t taken off her shirt now. The air that had been previously still stirred, and this time she couldn’t hold off her shiver. Balor had gathered up the cards, and was shuffling again.

“Another round?” he offered her. "I know there's only the two of us, but…"

“Is that all that’s on offer?” she said, and then clapped a hand to her mouth. “Wait. I don’t know why I said that.” If she hadn’t been blushing before, she certainly was now.

Balor had stopped shuffling, and his cheeks were pink. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Were you looking for more?” He was grinning now though, and her heart lurched. “You know me—I pride myself on offering all kinds of goods and services.”

His hand cupped her chin, and she looked up into iolite eyes. “I’d love to make a deal,” he continued.

She leaned in.

“After all—I’ve always had an eye for pretty things,” he breathed, and then his lips were on hers.

[popsicle-stick]

i have a post on trad folk wear in england brewing away in the drafts but i'm not strong enough to actually send it off into the world

[africanamericanreports]

The National Black Farmers Association (NBFA) is calling for the immediate resignation of Tractor Supply President Hal Lawton following the company's recent decision to cut diversity-focused positions and withdraw its carbon-emissions goals in response to right-wing pressure.

[pechadream]

The First Of Many Dances (Click for the full image and better quality!)

⚠  Do not repost my art or I will come after your kneecaps  ⚠

[shhh-secret-time]

To be honest, stardew valley has me in such a chokehold. It always has, even before the 1.6.

In such a way that my brain wants to smash my hyperfixation into it. So late at night I'll be awake thinking of this stardew/south park mashup.

Call that bad boy Star Park AU.

But no brain! Bad! We already have too much going on! You have a Secret Soulmate AU. Fantasy AU, A Cowboy AU story staring Kenny that's still in the outline phase, and these one shots!

(Look at the tags to watch me descent into madness)

[thepastisalreadywritten]

(CNN) — Jack Latham was on a mission to photograph farms in Vietnam — not the country’s sprawling plantations or rice terraces but its “click farms.”

Last year, the British photographer spent a month in the capital Hanoi documenting some of the shadowy enterprises that help clients artificially boost online traffic and social media engagement in the hope of manipulating algorithms and user perceptions.

The resulting images, which feature in his new book “Beggar’s Honey,” provide rare insight into the workshops that hire low-paid workers to cultivate likes, comments and shares for businesses and individuals globally.

“When most people are on social media, they want nothing but attention — they’re begging for it,” Latham said in a phone interview, explaining his book’s title.

“With social media, our attention is a product for advertisers and marketers.”

In the 2000s, the growing popularity of social media sites — including Facebook and Twitter, now called X — created a new market for well-curated digital profiles, with companies and brands vying to maximize visibility and influence.

Though it is unclear when click farms began proliferating, tech experts warned about “virtual gang masters” operating them from low-income countries as early as 2007.

In the following decades, click farms exploded in number — particularly in Asia, where they can be found across India, Bangladesh, Indonesia, the Philippines, and beyond.

Regulations have often failed to keep pace: While some countries, like China, have attempted to crack down on operations (the China Advertising Association banned the use of click farms for commercial gain in 2020), they continue to flourish around the continent, especially in places where low labor and electricity costs make it affordable to power hundreds of devices simultaneously.

‘Like Silicon Valley startups’

Latham’s project took him to five click farms in Vietnam.

(The click farmers he hoped to photograph in Hong Kong “got cold feet,” he said, and pandemic-related travel restrictions dashed his plans to document the practice in mainland China).

On the outskirts of Hanoi, Latham visited workshops operating from residential properties and hotels.

Some had a traditional setup with hundreds of manually operated phones, while others used a newer, compact method called “box farming” — a phrase used by the click farmers Latham visited — where several phones, without screens and batteries, are wired together and linked to a computer interface.

Latham said one of the click farms he visited was a family-run business, though the others appeared more like a tech companies.

Most workers were in their 20s and 30s, he added.

“They all looked like Silicon Valley startups,” he said. “There was a tremendous amount of hardware … whole walls of phones.”

Some of Latham’s photos depict — albeit anonymously — workers tasked with harvesting clicks.

In one image, a man is seen stationed amid a sea of gadgets in what appears to be a lonely and monotonous task.

“It only takes one person to control large amounts of phones,” Latham said. “One person can very quickly (do the work of) 10,000. It’s both solitary and crowded.”

At the farms Lathan visited, individuals were usually in charge of a particular social media platforms.

For instance, one “farmer” would be responsible for mass posting and commenting on Facebook accounts, or setting up YouTube platforms where they post and watch videos on loop.

The photographer added that TikTok is now the most popular platform at the click farms he visited.

The click farmers Latham spoke to mostly advertised their services online for less than one cent per click, view or interaction.

And despite the fraudulent nature of their tasks, they seemed to treat it like just another job, the photographer said.

‘There was an understanding they were just providing a service,” he added. “There wasn’t a shadiness. What they’re offering is shortcuts.”

Deceptive perception

Across its 134 pages, “Beggar’s Honey” includes a collection of abstract photographs — some seductive, others contemplative — depicting videos that appeared on Latham’s TikTok feed.

He included them in the book to represent the kind of content he saw being boosted by click farms.

But many of his photos focus on the hardware used to manipulate social media —webs of wires, phones and computers.

“A lot of my work is about conspiracies,” Latham said. ” Trying to ‘document the machines used to spread disinformation’ is the tagline of the project. The bigger picture is often the thing we don’t see.”

Click farms around the world are also used to amplify political messages and spread disinformation during elections.

In 2016, Cambodia’s then-prime minister Hun Sen was accused of buying Facebook friends and likes, which according to the BBC he denied, while shadowy operations in North Macedonia were found to have spread pro-Donald Trump posts and articles during that year’s US presidential election.

While researching, Latham said he found that algorithms — a topic of his previous book, “Latent Bloom” — often recommended videos that he said got increasingly “extreme” with each click.

“If you only digest a diet of that, it’s a matter of time you become diabetically conspiratorial,” he said.

“The spreading of disinformation is the worst thing. It happens in your pocket, not newspapers, and it’s terrifying that it’s tailored to your kind of neurosis.”

Hoping to raise awareness of the phenomenon and its dangers, Latham is planning to exhibit his own home version of a click farm — a small box with several phones attached to a computer interface — at the 2024 Images Vevey Festival in Switzerland.

He bought the gadget in Vietnam for the equivalent of about $1,000 and has occasionally experimented with it on his social media accounts.

On Instagram, Latham’s photos usually attract anywhere from a few dozen to couple hundred likes.

But when he deployed his personal click farm to announce his latest book, the post generated more than 6,600 likes.

The photographer wants people to realize that there’s more to what they see on social media — and that metrics aren’t a measurement of authenticity.

“When people are better equipped with knowledge of how things work, they can make more informed decisions,” he said.

“Beggar’s Honey,” co-published by Here Press and Images Vevey, is available now.

[caliburn-the-sword]

other than the entire adultery plotline, the only thing i would retcon in the entire season 1 of ouat is the fairies are cursed to become nuns in storybrooke. WHAT EVEN WAS THAT??? so many characters became their exact opposites, so why was blue the exact same stuffy woman both as a fairy and in storybrooke? in my mind, the fairies became a giant lesbian commune (so essentially what they already were in the enchanted forest) living on the outskirts of town. and because storybrooke shouldn't have any contact with the outside world, the fairies collectively own a farm that sources most of the food for all of storybrooke. when the curse broke they were like hey actually this is pretty good. and kept being a giant lesbian commune.

[ivvwwwwwi34]

fun fact about Willow - he has a mermaid pendant at home that he doesn't use for its original purpose - it sits on one of the shelves with a bunch of shiny stuff as jewelry, gleaming lonely in the sun and reflecting the soft bluish light.

when, during a big storm on the beach, he saw an old sailor and this beautiful piece of turquoise-cyanine glass in his hand, he immediately thought "wow, what a gimmick, I need it!!". so without a second thought, he pours all the money he needs into the sailor, grabs a rare item and walks away happy.

[heartsbreaking-migrated]

"oh i'm sorry, i didn't see you there!" dot stepped back and shifted the basket she carried to her other arm. she hadn't realized someone had walked up to the same booth she was looking at, she'd been so engrossed with trying to decide what to make her family for dinner. she kept looking at the vegetables at the stand, turning over the peppers. "you know any good recipes with peppers? my 10 year old's pretty easy to cook for, but my husband! i've never met a pickier man in my life!" she looked back over at the stranger she'd mistakenly stepped into, smiling expectantly.

starter call | starter for @unsnare / caoimhe oidhche *

[farmerlesbian]

I'm interested in participating in the rural lives project, but I have to say that the labels used seem not representative of myself and others in my age group. I identify as transsexual as do most of the other "gender diverse" folks in my cohort who I know. Perhaps consider including this in the list you give of who qualifies for this project, as the labels you do use (genderqueer, nonbinary, even transgender) are ones I've only seen in recent years. It's a bit alienating to see these labels on a project aimed at my age group without identities like transsexual also mentioned.

Hi! I don't think you're wrong and I would honestly agree with you - but this is NOT my project! I just saw in on the internet and wanted to share it on tumblr. I certainly encourage yall to reach out to them with your feedback, though!

[africanamericanreports]

The National Black Farmers Association (NBFA) today announced its endorsement of Vice President Kamala Harris for President of the United States. With the upcoming election just two weeks away, the NBFA aims to rally support for a candidate they believe will champion the needs and concerns of Black farmers across the nation.

[nibeul]

something I've also noticed with sageuk is that they tend to be the only (popular) dramas where you really see Koreans w tan/brown skin