#Green Ideas 2023

[claubenaventer]

Green Ideas 2023 discute los retos ambientales a nivel nacional

Ante la clasificación primaria de desechos sólidos establecida de forma obligatoria a partir del pasado 11 de agosto del año 2021; la gestión de aguas; el ahorro energético, la calidad de calidad del aire y otros temas que deben ser discutidos y abordados multisectorialmente para una adecuada implementación de buenas prácticas, el sector guatemalteco de plásticos ha organizado a través de la…

[marzfartz]

Coming up to colouring #8 for @green-with-envy-phandom-event, I always love drawing ghost king au so I had a lot of fun!

Lineart by: @sunndropcitrus

[geneticdriftwood]

look its beyond wild to me that in current dc canon lian has been running around gotham just being a vigilante for years. who came up with this?

personally I think she and damian should be friends and bond over having complicated relationships with their assassin moms who love them so much and yet have been painfully distant/absent from their lives far too often (and also who are victims of writer sexism and orientalism).

[carnival-stims]

{ 💘 ⛏️ 💘 | 🪨 🫀 🪨 | 💘 ⛏️ 💘 }

harry warden (my bloody valentine, 1981) stimboard

(technically the middle gif is from the 2009 remake, which from my understanding is the same movie but with more boobs and a 3D gimmick)

[moss-abyss]

12. craft

[sea-jello]

Day 25/October 25: Fight || Bow || "I'm not very good."

the sequel

[frankbeetle]

This is something more of a comic twt joke, but I’ll put explanation in tags. Carol Ferris the love of my life the world isn’t ready for you

If you hate either of these characters go away I don’t like you

[seeinganewlight]

that all depends, william. are you a strong enough man to write a strong enough woman?

[fashion-boots]

Clare Gillies in 2023 Essentiel Antwerp Etribol boots

[lsdunesarchive]

lsdunes: Tonight on #TuckerThursday with your host @.AnthonyGreen

(L.S. Dunes Twitter | July 28, 2023)

Transcript under the cut

Anthony: It is, indeed, Tucker Thursday. I am your host, Anthony Green. Today is a most special Tucker Thursday, because we are going to answer the age-old question, "how clean is Tucker's butt?" I have his white show pants over here, and I know they haven't been washed in a couple days, and I'm going to take a look, see if we got any skivvies in these fucking white (?) right here. Okay, I'm going to look, I don't want you to see. I feel like that would be too much. I'm gonna look, I'm going to tell you what's going on in here... It might be the cleanest show pants I've ever seen in my life, not a skid mark in fucking sight. Tucker, we all knew you had a clean butt, but now it's confirmed. Happy Tucker Thursday. We love you.

[aleesabella]

IG/ vivianmariewong

[j-and]

IT'S CRAZY! IT'S PARTY! IT'S CHA-CHA-CHA!

[marzfartz]

My fifth piece for @green-with-envy-phandom-event, Danny's looking so creepy this pic is such a vibe

Lineart by: @miscmonstro

[whats-another-song-contest]

Nothing in this world can stop the spread of her wings - watercolour on A5 paper

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 19: Jasper/Monty, 16th Summer

Jasper/Monty in the Southern Gothic AU for @backpacktheory. Thanks for the request Tried my best with this one, though I kind of struggled with it.

~980 words, written in about 40 minutes

*

Their sixteenth summer, Raven teaches them how to drive, using her pickup truck and the flat, pale grassland in front of her house. Monty gets behind the wheel first. Raven rides shotgun, and Jasper stretches out in the bed in back, staring up at the sky sketched over with thin, pearly wisps of clouds across a shimmering blue, feeling the truck describe circles and awkward, bumpy squares as Monty practices shifting gears and making turns. He takes them up and down the rutted dirt driveway and then onto the paved road that leads eventually all the way back into town, and Jasper holds on tight to the edge of the truck bed, only the white grip of his pale fingers visible like a creature crawling itself free, when they take the first wide turn too wide. "What are you doing?" he yells. "Trying to throw me out? It's like I'm riding a bucking bronco here!"

He can make out the sound of Monty laughing through the glass of the back window, and Raven's hard-edged, clipped voice giving another command. The truck dips briefly off the shoulder, and then rights itself again.

The next day, they switch positions, and Jasper fumbles with the clutch as Monty sits in the back, yelling alternating jokes and encouragement, clapping and whooping when the old truck finally bumps forward. Its wheels crunch over the dead and flattened grass.

The seasons stretches still long and dry ahead of them, threatening fire in the underbrush.

Some days they spend right up through the late guttering of the evening at Raven's place, helping tend to her lawn, cooking dinner with her, for her, in the kitchen in the back of her house, the first of the slow-rising old mountains looking over them through the window above the sink. Bits of colored glass hanging there catch the hot and shimmering light. The air grows warmer and heavier still with the heat from the oven and the stove.

They get their licenses just in time for one summer road trip: a ritual to end the season, a pushing at the boundaries of things. Monty drives because he likes it more. Jasper sits next to him in the passenger's seat, cranks the window down and sings along to the radio, lets his hand ride along the waves of the cool breeze they create. Oh it's still devilish hot in late August, and barely any rain still for weeks. The stillness that everyone is trying to break, with their sprinklers, the hiss and click of them, and their standing fans whirring, and music through the open windows of their houses, the stillness comes with a sort of language of its own. Monty isn't bothered. When Jasper can't stand it, he comes over and lies on Monty's floor and picks up every quiet sound he can discern, bug noises in the garden, the creaking wooden frame of the old house.

They drive out to the next town over, which is bigger than Arkadia, and noisier, dusty gray sidewalks and sizzling pavement beneath their feet, wander into record stores and book shops and spend an hour in an antique store with a host of strange and byzantine, crowded rooms. In the narrow aisle between some creepy porcelain dolls and half-complete sets of old dishware, Jasper crowds against him, and Monty wraps an arm around him, and he thinks about the dishes they'll put in their kitchen when they're older and how far away and how close older seems, all at once.

On their way home, they pick up sandwiches, and picnic on the side of the road, just outside of town. The twin billboards loom large over them. Monty tips his head all the way back to stare at the closer one, how it intones to him The Devil Is Real in faded old text. A distant warning echoing through time. Jasper's hand is holding his, half-hidden in the grass.

Almost no breeze and almost no rain, but sometimes the air seems to ripple and breathe around them, and the grass bends lazily over itself, and the long highway stretches without a curve in sight. Only one car has passed them, this whole time. The sun shines unclouded and bright, skimming over the tops of the tallest trees, and the heat presses in, and he breathes deep and feels it heavy in his lungs.

The Devil.

He'd give everything to know what is real.

"It feels like you can see forever," Jasper says, all of a sudden, and Monty follow his gaze and sees that he is staring down the long road home. His eyes flicker then to the trees, and to the rounded mountain peaks, and then into the tall grass that whispers and rustle at the highway's edge. He can't see the billboards, because his back is to them. But Monty can feel, as if it were in his own chest, every hitch in Jasper's breath.

Sometimes they just feel it, like a pressure or another sense. The sense that they are not alone. If it's the Earth itself or another presence, if it's just the growing pains of learning and understanding, of feeling out the edges of this knowledge that, sometimes, it feels like only they in the whole history of the world have ever found, he doesn't know. It's a whisper on the skin. It's a dread feeling in the pit of his stomach, a sickness, a craving.

He holds on tighter to Jasper's hand.

Where Will You Be When He Comes Again? the other billboard asks, a warning, a taunt; the edge of it is ripped, where half a cross still stands, and through a hole in the corner, Monty can see straight through to the blazing hint of sunset on the other side. Where Will You Be?

Where is he now?

They pack up their stuff and head on home.

[cogitrot]

I've never been part of a Fallen London event before and I know this one just started but I am having SO much fun. My stats are in a really awkward place for this event (less than 70, WAY higher than 20) and I have no idea what any of these things are for and only the vague guarantee that some major catastrophe looms on the horizon, but that does not matter. I'm hiding under tablecloths with my little mushroom, and all is well.