#even if you don't speak dutch its not too hard to get the meaning... because i was using several english loanwords

[gammija]

biggest dumb pet peeve is when an anglophone reposts some text or video that's technically not in english but still uses a ton of english loanwords in addition to being a germanic or roman language, and captions it like 'wow truly this post transcends language boundaries, i was able to understand almost all of this' yeah the parts you understood were in english buddy

[carrickbender]

Sonntag seiben

1. September in the PNW means harvesting and putting in things for the winter that give hope that, at some point, we will see the sun again and taste the sweet goodness of the gifts of nature. This year is special because another generation of our family gets to decide their fate as either pickers or non-pickers. I've always been a picker since I was probably a bit older than Henry; My grandmere and I would dutifully pick the tiny delicious huckleberries right on the border of Idaho and Montana, and one of our favourite patches was yards away from where one of her relatives surveyed in the state lines of Montana(plot twist: it's backwards). My mom, on the other hand, was born a non-picker who often loved finding a nice shady spot with a book. Thankfully, as she and I were both raised as only children, she has become a picker because berries won't pick themselves and blackberries are awful to pick. And Buggy was such a trooper: he started off picking berries but then he just wanted to eat berries even double fisting them. Tradition can be so delicious.

2. I finished my 2 weeks at Medline on Saturday, and they were absolutely good people for whom to work. And on Tuesday, I start with a municipal organization in emergency mitigation services, which should be a good job. Its a serious pay cut from Cosmo, but I cant wait any longer. And with graduation looming for me at CWU and my MBA application submitted, my options are expanding by the day. I refuse to be blind to the silver lining to my loss of my job at Cosmo, and I am open to the lessons that the universe is teaching me.

3. So for a long time I couldn't wrap my head around affirmations, but now that I'm doing them, I feel different. I think maybe, just maybe, the reset has begun and I'm looking at how I reclaim grace. To all who helped: much love.

4. To all of you who do online tutoring, what do you think of it? I have some expertise, and I think I could parlay it into a little more income and use it for the benefit of others. Thoughts?

5. We find out this week what sort of pre-k/transitional kindergarten programme Buggy will be in this fall. And, cool thing: H was also accepted into our local college and is going to be finishing her degree in Chemical dependency counseling. Her sobriety not withstanding, she is so smart and if she wouldn't have had her oldest son so young she could have done anything. She was studying to become a nurse when "life" and a few other things got in the way, and I think how much of a loss it was, truly. So having her go back to school is truly making sure the smartest person in this house gets to use that amazing brain for good of others and not just making good stuff like the boule in the picture.

6. Jimmy Buffet and Bill Richardson, on the same day? I got to meet Bill and hear him speak, and he was truly a champion for the forgotten and unjustly imprisoned. And Jimmy... I heard so many stories of him playing the Elbow room in Dutch Harbour and Tony's in Kodiak that, turns out were all true. While he might have been seen as a brand, some of his lyrics really hit my old broken down ass self pretty hard. And like his lyric said,

"I hope you're enjoying the scenery

I know that it's pretty up there

We can go hiking on Tuesday

With you I'd walk anywhere

California has worn me quite thin

I just can't wait to see you again"

Peace be with them...

7. The agates and the quartz glass are from a local beach, and 3 generations of hands have touched them. 3...Somewhere, my father figure is proud and glad it took(and that his great grandson loves rocks and getting dirty, just like him).

If you are still reading this, don't labour tomorrow. Rest. Relax. It's been a hard 9 months, and judging by our mountain ash bushes here, it's going to be a long miserable winter. Many blessings yall, and be kind to yourselves and take a moment. If my stubborn ass can finally say, and mean it, "I love the person I am becoming", you can too.

Much love!!!!

[autimind]

Pathologizing autism

There is something rotten about the way society talks about autism. In short, people pathologize what we do. They call it sick because we do it.

Here is a list of eight characteristics from a Dutch psychological education platform. A serious, government-sponsored one too.

little reciprocity

trouble with non-verbal communication

taking things literally

difficulty maintaining reliationships

sticking to routines

difficulty with changes

rigid in thinking and conduct

oversensitive to stimuli

So what's wrong?

All of these are true, for some value of true.

The problem is in the way these are phrased and certainly in the way only negative terms are used to describe how we live.

little reciprocity

Have they ever witnessed two autistics rapidly and happily talking through some subject in minute and interconnected detail? It is glorious to behold and heady to be part of.

A realistic view, now supported by actual research, is that ND-ND pairs easily create rapport, just like NT-NT pairs do.

There is often little reciprocity among NT-ND pairs because the NT part will demand adherence to their own mode of communicating and if their needs aren't met, talking will break down. For a minor rant with some more detail see And they call us rigid. Also see below.

trouble with non- verbal communication

Why should 70%-93% be non-verbal? This is common with NT people and they are 44 in 45 humans or thereabouts but these people are apparently very flexible and good with change. Is it such a sacrifice to listen to the actual words at times in order to help us?

Isn't it entirely understandable that I don't catch sarcasm when someone else matches their body language to their phrasing and only afterwards bursts out laughing and claims it was sarcasm? By the way, some people have a nasty habit of saying impolite or harsh stuff and then when you react negatively claiming it was a joke all along and claiming you just didn't get it.

Isn't it necessary to talk about the staggering amount of misunderstanding that NT's suffer from among themselves? They can't reliably read the inner workings of others' minds from their faces, stance and gestures. They just think they can. It is in that erroneous notion that arguments and even entire feuds start. All without an autistic necessarily even being nearby.

taking things literally This is not something autistics do or at least not in the way people picture it. I have never met anyone who honestly thought 'laughing your head off' actually means laughing so hard that your head spontaneously separates from your neck.

Now that I come to think about this.. it is a rather grisly metaphor. I am no specialist in this area but I suppose even after snapping the spine, tearing the many muscles and other fibers that attach the head to the body would take an impressive amount of force. It could of course be sliced off but that isn't naturally part of the metaphor. See, that is what thinking literally can be like.

ANYWAY, it is more healthy and social to realise that people tend to take eachother literally when understanding breaks down. This is easier to understand when you picture just barely speaking another language and trying to speak it on holiday. You won't get any of the idiom, very few of the cultural references and so on. So .. you take literally what you do understand. See Taking things literally.

Autistics have a different Theory of Mind and communicate differently, build up understanding bottom-up where allistics understand top-down and looking far more for the facts of any matter than its social dimensions. All of that makes it very easy to misunderstand and so we take things literally. There is nothing else left. The allistic blithely assumes they're normal and in the right. It is however fairly cruel to scold someone for taking your words literally when it is the very last tool they have. It is like kicking a puppy.

difficulty maintaining relationships

Lots of people have difficulty maintaining reliationships. This is not a core characteristic of autism but a result of various complications. You might as well claim that autistics have trouble holding on to a job or have trouble being represented on forums that talk about us.

A relationships needs at its very essence mutuality. Even in very imbalanced powered-up relationships like you see in employment there is a tacit understanding that both parties stick to the (unwritten) social rules. Since autistics don't do authority well, especially if it is not based on actual merit or at least a decent explanation, professional relationships easily break down.

Friendships also need mutuality but more in the sense that both friends understand what the other would take from the relationship and are okay with that.

sticking to routines

This one is primarily true but it is not essential. Underneath the hood, by far most autistics need the world to be understandable and predictable. This we share with allistics. It is the very reason that fantasy exists as the Ur-literature. Almost all humans prefer living in a world that is somehow ordered and just. As Terry Pratchett explained it, children already know that dragons exist but fairy tales allow them to believe that dragons can be killed.

The routines and their importance to us are, again, a result and not some core trait. We don't stick to routines because we are somehow 'routinessent'. It is outward conduct and I find it notable that allistic understanding of how we are once again looks at the surface and no further.

difficulty with changes

This one, in my personal opinion, has a lot to do with the excruciating speed with which allistics can implement changes without any explanation provided. They just assume that because everything is clear in their own heads, this must somehow be true of the world. Others can either keep up or be scolded.

Is it really too much trouble to stand still for a few seconds, ask someone if it is okay to change an agreed upon plan on a whim and wait for an answer?

Let us note that allistics can be sticklers for their own plans. That plan might include any number of steps and modes of action but the plan to them is most often sacrosanct. It is us auti's that are positively used to being talked over, forced to change our prediction of the near future and just having to keep up or get lost.

rigid in thinking and conduct Any allistic who actually does act or think rigidly will call themselves straightforward or consistent. Maybe both. It is only when an autistic person sticks to a line of reasoning or way of doing something that it gets called rigid.

Autistics often enough think far more logically then the average allistic is willing to do, most probably because they tend to see social intersections as always an important part of any situation.

Another important part of this sorry mess is that autistic children and (young) adults are often taught by rote memorization. If you tell an auti-kid that they should always be honest and forthright then by Jove they will do so. If the poor kid then says something a parent finds awkward or embarrassing, they'll react with something like 'Stop! Why are you doing that?! Never do that again!!" So the kid remembers: be honest and forthright and shut up. And so on and so forth.

When an autistic doesn't understand something, anything really, then it is usually attributed to the autism. "Oh, he doesn't understand. He has that disorder." However, if an allistic doesn't understand one of us, we should learn to communicate more clearly.

The social world is complicated for us and far too many autistics have been and are being beaten into epistemic submission. The result is fawning behaviour, desperately trying to act correctly. The only tool left then is to learn it all by heart and that results in rigid behaviour.

This is not an autistic trait. It is autistic trauma.

oversensitive to stimuli

This one is more or less true, of many autistics. There is a tremendous variety within the spectrum, though. One autistic may not have sensory issues at all, others will just be overstimulated by one sense, others by several senses and a few really can't deal with any stimulus without discomfort.

However, we can again ask why the social spaces that we do move in absolutely have to be so bright and so loud. In actual fact, I believe that the mere intensity of some stimulus is often enough not the main problem. I listen to very loud music at times and enjoy it very much. However, having to listen to four different conversations at once is very quickly painful for me, even if they aren't all that loud. Asking too much of our ability to process in real-time seems to me to be the primary concern when it comes to stimuli.

Why do stores positively have to pump music from speakers? All I came to do was get groceries. Or a pair of trousers. Why do stores have to be lit so very brightly? I am thinking of starting a low-stimulus hour campaign in my town. It would help far more than calling a sensitivity autistic.

Isn't this the central theme of talking about characteristics? Any actual ally would always at least try to understand and accomodate, not use autism as an explanation and be done with it.

[robotonthemoon]

Hi, honest answer to your honest question.

I’m a straight white American guy- a SWAG, if you will.

Apart from the obvious reactionary attitude implicit in things like White History Month or Straight Pride, I do feel there’s a morsel of real concern there, and it’s a concern I feel too.

Our society kind of assumes you’re a SWAG by default. That’s the baseline. So if you’re not in an oppressed group, then you are that baseline, and you get nothing *compared to the baseline.* You’re the target of mass media, you’re the default citizen. You’re the human experience.

And in my experience that can be a pretty empty thing to be. You kind of just grow up without ever developing an identity around your race, gender, sexuality, nationality- these are just facts about you. And then you see people who react to oppression by rejoicing in themselves and extracting meaning from all those things and yours are just empty because you’ve never been given anything to fill it with.

Yes, culture is made to your specifications but it never speaks about you because the only time race, sexuality, gender, nationality need to be spoken about is when they’re not the default- when they’re not yours. So it never even really feels like it was made *for* you so much as *around* you.

And so yeah, beyond the reactionary bullcrap, I do fully understand the urge to say “actually I am white and I am cishet and I am a man and I want to have positive feelings about those aspects of myself-“ and not like “I’m normal and boring” but like “I’m all these things and they are valuable.”

Which I’m sure is a hard sell if you’ve spent your life trying to say “I want what I am to be *permissible*, let alone *valuable*.” And it’s so often reactionaries who try and fill these ideas with bigotry, I understand why people are defensive. But you can’t ever get rid of, e.g. heteronormativity, if you don’t allow the heteros to decide that heterosexuality means more than normativity. Which, to me, sounds like some kind of straight pride.

(Of course, I’ve also seen the take that Pride would not even be coherent outside the context of oppression. And believe me, having lived my life with an “inconsequential” relationship to gender and sexuality, it’s a pretty bleak worldview you’ve got if you think that your choice is between oppression and inconsequence. My outlook greatly improved since I learned from my lgbtq+ friends to start loving those aspects of myself as things of meaning.)

Pride would not have existed in the first place without oppression. It is a defensive movement, in the sense that it is entirely a reaction to threats. Without oppression, queer people would be treated as exactly as "normal" and expected as cishet people. I generally tell people, "do not be upset that there's no straight pride, be grateful you don't need it." Access to the "default baseline" of things is an underappreciated gift that many marginalised people do not get to enjoy.

Now, that said, there is every reason to celebrate being straight if it makes you happy. I certainly understand being attracted to women and would not criticise it. But its definitely not the same as pride as a movement. It is unfortunate that culturally we only seem to think about things in opposition rather than for their own joy.

I am reminded of something I read once. About "white people have no culture in the US" which seems to contribute at least a little to cultural appropriation. And how white people have been disconnected from the cultures they came from. The traditional cultures of French, Dutch, Swedish, Russian, etc. people are all quite different and rich. We could do well to encourage white people to reconnect with some of that. So long as it doesn't become an excuse for bad behaviour.

Thank you for your thoughts!

[fleastinger]

It doesn't make me sngry when you fall asleep on the phone. It mskes me sngry to see you force yourself awake during a serious conversation instead of admitting how tiref you were because youre scared of me getting mad at you . You miss things when youre asleep, you'll repeat questions, and tbh, its not a genuine conversation I could trust.

I want you to work on this, and listen to your body when you're tired. We can always talk another day or in person, its not the end of the world if we cant finish a convo because you're sleepy.

It doesnt get me angry when you try to talk, or when youre baked and talk over me. It gets me angry when you interrupt me while im speaking or talk over me. I csnt trust sometimes if youre taking me seriously or not, if youre reslly present while youre high. I know I interrupt you too, and I want to work on that as well. But I want you to work on this, and look into why you feel like you have your best convos while stoned.

It doesnt make me angry if youre double checking that I cant come over. It does make me sngry when you ignore my first reply in tje hopes that I'll take it back, making me more and more indecisive, or insist that i am making a bigger deal about not wanting to come over than necessary. I need to work on being firm, actively enforcing my boundaries (making my no reslly mean it snd not saying yes because i feel bad), but you need to work on that too.

It doesnt make me mad when you offer me money or to buy things for me. It doesnt make me mad when you offer out of the sake of trying to help me. It makes me mad when you insist on giving me money that i dont want, or paying for things for me, when you can save your money for a car, for transportation, for copays and literally anything that can help you in your situation. I have a job. You dont. I don't need to rely on your money and you shouldnt be freely offering it to me when you need it more than me. It makes me mad to think about how often youre using your money for more vapes and dutches than your own self.

It doesnt make me mad when you talk aboug your sleep issues, and im sorry for throwing it in your face in an arguement. It makes me mad when you say you cant help it or predict it, when they are things that can easily be predicted. It makes me mad to see you continue to say youre working on it when you dont look up anything to help yourself, you dont try to change your lifestyle, you just dont do anything.

It doesnt make me mad when you hsve a hard time talking to me about how you feel. And im sorry that i made you feel scared to open up to me. But it makes me mad when you have clear depressive and anxious feelings, and refuse to look into it or get help.

You finally made an appointment with a PCP for your hand and you say youre gonna follow up for sleep. But it feels like its only because i made it such an issue this weekend. And who knows if youll look into therapy. But i want you to. I wish you do.

I know what I did didnt help. I freaked out on you the night of your birthday, a day that ive dumped you before on. Theres no excuse for making you start 24 in fear of losing me again. But this also showed me how frustrated ive been, how much this was built up, how little faith i have in us working out our differences without serious work. This showed me that even if you might feel different , we arent. If we dont try to help ourselves, we'll still have the same trend of me picking up the pieces of everything and excusing your behavior because you know how to make me feel bad, like its my fault thar i left, when you did what you did to me. Itll still jave the trend of you being on eggshells sround me because you dont know if im going to be super helpful or super bitchy, if im going to yell or be calm.

Its just......you and I need to work on ourselves. I like you so much, I know I can feel the beginning of love with you again. But that love isnt logical, it ignores the fact that you and i both hurt each other in tje past, it procrastinates on the fact that you and i need serious help before we could confidently say we can be a healthy relationship.

You need IOP, a PCP to follow up on your health, a job to buy a car, a car to get out of your house, a better and more fufilling lifestyle. More importantly, you need to want that and take the steps to do that instead of wasting away for months at a time, waiting for someone else to help. I have to stop offering to help when i know i cant, or i know that ill feel like im enabling you. I need to see that you are trying, whether its slowly or drastically. And this is a good first step but it doesnt feel quite real.

I need to work on myself, getting my bills paid, continue to work on managing my expenses without spending all of it on you and us and buying food and weed. I need to not use you to ignore my own issues.

But you also need to get yourself together. You cant live a happy and fufilled life without attempting things that make you scared. You cant help yourself by denying things that you havent tried before or tried and failed at.

And just....we're not married. We dont have kids together. We arent even officially together. Youre right that i act like your girlfriend , and i get why you want uscto be official. But i dont know if i want this , i need to see that you can and will try to help yourself, that you genuinely want to be a better you and not just say that to keep me wrapped around your fingers.

And tbh....my therapist was right. If youre not okay with me not being sure where im st with you at this moment, then can we reasonably say we could be stronger in the future without taking a step back to help ourselves?

[lavenoon]

Ooo thank you for the tag!

♫Do you play an instrument?

Not anymore! As kid I tried playing recorder, then guitar, and then piano for a while, but by now I have forgotten everything and just listen to music all the time <3

•Favourite book characters?

Oh hm, hard to say - it's been a while since I read a fiction book fhdjs But I think I'd go with Andrea Nash from the Kate Daniels series bc Ilona Andrews, the protagonists sharpshooting best friend with that friendly face everyone wants to talk to because they don't know how deadly she is. Should revisit that series, it's been a lot of fun for me

•What’s your star sign?

Virgo!

•Favourite colour schemes?

Red and Purple hues, mostly dark, saturated ones. But brighter tones I also enjoy, and dark blues and teals are also really nice!

•Naps or long sleep?

Both? I'm the resident sleep wizard, I feel like I have to say both. But, assuming I get both, I prefer naps. I struggle to fall asleep at night since my natural rhythm would mean I get tired around 1-2AM, which isn't feasible for work, but when I have the afternoon off and can just huddle in my blankets for a nap without alarm? That's really, really nice and I like indulging when I can hehe

•What languages do you speak?

Fluently only German (native) and English! I've taken Latin, so can understand bits of romance languages (plus I took Spanish for a while), and Duolingo tried teaching me Dutch while I was living in the Netherlands, but I wouldn't say I speak any of those

•Dreams/aspirations?

A small, happy life. A home I can decorate how I want and where I feel safe, work that doesn't leave me too exhausted to do what I enjoy, maybe a pet or two - and just that joy that I want to share with others. I want to be kind, I want people to feel safe around me, and I want to make them smile. Maybe the world sucks, and maybe I can't change it, but I can make someone's day better by being patient, or understanding, or cracking a joke, and that's all I want. I'd be happy with that <3

•Long hair or Short Hair?

Short hair! Simply for the convenience, and also because having an undercut is an integrated stim toy lmao. But it's cheaper to take care of and to dye, so as much as I love long hair on other people, I'll probably never go past my shoulders again (if even that far)

•Tea or coffee?

Tea! Absolutely cannot stand coffee, too bitter for me. But fruity teas are a favorite - coincidentally, and tea that ends up being a dark red/ purpl-ish shade is probably gonna be one I enjoy gfhdjs

•Bring a book character to life or go into a fictional world?

I don't think any of the characters I read about would do well in our world, so I'd rather go into a fictional world! Escapism at its finest, and I'd have to think of what world I'd choose so I don't end up with more problems than I have here, but I'd love to have new, exciting problems for a change <3

Extending an open invitation to anyone reading this, tell me more about yourselves!

Wanna get to know my tumblr friends better cuz y'all are dope so have a tag game challenge if you want :)

Also, if you don’t wanna answer anything you don’t need to.

♫Do you play an instrument?

•Favourite book characters?

•What’s your star sign?

•Favourite colour schemes?

•Naps or long sleep?

•What languages do you speak?

•Dreams/aspirations?

•Long hair or Short Hair?

•Tea or coffee?

•Bring a book character to life or go into a fictional world?

No pressure tags: @thebestieyoureinlovewith @nikolaistealcoat @grishaverse-chaos @lostinfantasyworldsbi @lilisouless @l3st1b0urn3s-707 @arany-studio @waluigicumjar

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Continue the apprentice reader pls! I mean what jason will do now that he knows she will die if he does not do anything?

Jason sat on his bike outside your house and cut the engine.

The lantern was burning outside the dutch kitchen door. Shining like a beacon. Lighting the way for the desperate, through the labyrinth of pots and retired coffee cans that held your plants. It was a tipsy, pokey little house. A cottage that had somehow survived the urban sprawl- the kind of house a witch WOULD live in. Covered in ivy, honeysuckle, and morning glories. Their vines obscure the kitchen window- preventing anyone on the street from seeing who had come to trade their money for a potion or charm. From seeing what desperate soul had come scratching at the door. Eyes wild and hands grasping.

He took off his helmet and he heard it. The tell tale sobbing.

The gabbling explaining- words tumbling out like water over rocks in a fast creek. Almost nonsensical. Losing all meaning after a time. And as he watched the woman- it was always a woman; sneak back out the kitchen door, capturing a dove from the dovecote in her hands. Greedily stilling the flutter of wings when it started awake. He can almost hear your dire warning, "The things you do come back to you; as if they know the way- once you do this, there is no going back. You can't stop a flood once the dam breaks."

And he doesn't need to be watching. Not to see her grasping the pearl ended pin- long and wicked. Eyes glinting. Smile twisting. And he even knows what she'll say. What they all say. "I want him to love me so much he can't stand it." And he can see you kissing the dove's head. An apology that it had to die for this, and a thank you for its sacrifice- even if the woman would be back in a few weeks, crying at a door that wouldn't open.

Because you warned them. And because some things couldn't be undone- they simply had to run their course.

He waited until she skipped down the walk. Sure that everything she wanted was what she really wanted- satisfied that it was in reach. He wondered if he had a wife. And then he waited a little longer. Giving you time to wrap the dove in a scrap of silk scarf and put it in a box with the dried rose petals and other things he couldn't identify.

The walk to your door made him feel sick. A knot in the pit of his stomach that hadn't gone away since Constantine left his apartment. Would you send him away? Make him forget that you ever existed? Or simply shut the door in his face and slide the latch?

Your back was to the door when he let himself in quietly and took a seat at the table. And as was your custom, you didn't greet him. You simply carried on making your tea. Unhurried. His problem would still be there when you were ready to deal with it.

And when you turned, his heart twisted. You look sick. Feverish and shrunken. You'd lost weight, the angles of your jaw and cheeks were more pronounced. Making your eyes look too big for your face and your lips too full. But he doesn't speak. He can't find the words. Instead he takes the five gold coins in his pocket and spreads them across the table.

"I need your help," he said softly. Swallowing hard as you gripped your mug a little tighter. Not sure if you were comforting yourself or about to throw it at him.

"Todd, get out-"

"I love someone and I broke her heart," he said quickly. "If I could go back and punch myself in the face I would but I can't- So I need you to- I need you to help me. She's having my baby and I don't want her to do it alone."

He watches a look flit across your face he doesn't know how to read and chances moving closer. "But I was an asshole and I didn't realize how scared she was- so I said a bunch of things I shouldn't have. I should have just told her I loved her and that it would be okay."

When you start to cry, he steps closer and takes the mug out of your hands gently, setting it on the scrubbed countertop as h pulled you against his chest. "Please help me," he murmured, "you might be my only hope."

The whimpers turn into sobs and he hugs you tighter, swallowing the alarm he felt when he realized how fragile you felt. "I'm sorry," he said softly, resting his cheek on your head for a second before gathering you onto his lap. "I'm so sorry."

"I can't believe you asked if it was a baby," you huff, smacking his shoulder, "The fuck did you think I'm pregnant with? A horse?"

"I panicked," he protested, "I only hit it raw the one time."

"And?" you ask archly,

But all he can do is reach up to wipe the tears off your cheeks, fumbling a handkerchief out of his pocket for your nose. "So you'll help me?" he asked.

"For a price," you answer, letting him wipe your face off gently.

"What price?" he asked, smiling a little.

"Kiss me?"

And he doesn't need you to ask him again.

[virgyvandijk]

For that au idea, idk if it meant any ideas or juat your own. But if its any could you do a liverpool x peakyblinders/mafia style one if you don't mind?

this got so long i’m sorry it’s going to have to go under a cut 

virgil’s father is the kingpin of a drugs gang that near enough rules the netherlands. they control what goes in, what goes out, and ron built the empire up from scratch, dating back to long before virgil was born

he was a flaky dad when virgil was a kid, but when he turned twelve, he disappeared completely. just upped and left without a trace, leaving a whole trail of destruction in his wake. eventually he got back in contact and left his number

when virgil got old enough, he realised what his dad actually did. it disgusted him, to be honest. made him feel sick, because he knew what happened down the production lines of drug gangs. he knew about the violence that so many innocent people inevitably faced, and he couldn’t believe his dad was a part of that

people still recognised him though, when he was in the right bars or even just walking on the right streets. they knew who he was and who his father was, and they’d stop him. sometimes it’d be compliments, sometimes anecdotes, and sometimes threats. he hated all of them

when he turned 18, all those people on the streets started asking him when he was going to follow in his dad’s footsteps. then it turned into trying to convince him to join, and it began to feel constant

the day after his 19th birthday, he packed a bag, kissed his mother goodbye, and moved to the uk. he had a friend in liverpool who had somewhere for him to stay and the offer of a job, so he got on the next flight out and started fresh

he set up a life in liverpool – a good one. he had a decent job as the head of security for concerts in the city, and moved into his own little flat, right near the docks. nobody recognised him, and that was absolutely perfect, it was a proper New Start 

he met jordan through a friend of a friend of a friend at a house party and they hit it off straight away. he’d never been so attracted to someone after only speaking for them for a few minutes, and he wasn’t even nervous when he asked jordan if he’d like to go for lunch the next day, because he knew jordan was going to say yes

their dates were more often than not, every other day for the first week and then every day after that. they got on so well, just spent hours talking and laughing and getting to know each other. virgil didn’t think he’d ever met someone quite like jordan

it wasn’t long until they decided to move in together. they were together most of the time anyway, spending time at virgil’s flat away from jordan’s housemates, so it just made sense. they both had decent jobs and put together a considerable amount for a deposit on a house, and they moved in not even a month later

things were good. virgil knew that he’d found his forever and he was happy about it, settled in his own little house with his own little family (jordan and two cats), in a country where nobody knew about his father and what he did for a living

except, of course, things aren’t always that easy.

gini is the only person he still talks to from back home, because he moved to liverpool shortly after virgil did – after virgil told him how happy he was in the city. they’re inseparable by now, and virgil considers him a brother

they go out for dinner every tuesday (jordan leaves them to it, has a night in with the cats and a pizza), somewhere different each week. gini chooses the restaurant, because he’s much more exciting than virgil is, but that’s fine by virgil. he doesn’t need to be exciting, he enjoys his life as it is thank you

one tuesday, virgil parks somewhere in town and walks to the restaurant that gini suggested. he’s never been there before so he’s using google maps, head buried in his phone, and he quite literally bumps into someone heading up paradise street. he looks up, and he swears he recognises the bloke, but he can’t quite place him

before he can ask, the man speaks. his accent is dutch – the same recognisable region as virgil, and he grins, but it’s more evil than kind. says, “i know you – your dad is ron van dijk. expanding his business, are you?” 

virgil tries to walk away, but the man calls him back. he says he’s got some information about his brother, about what he’s been up to. virgil didn’t even fucking know, but the man has some documents on his phone and virgil can’t deny it. his grin grows wider, and virgil wishes he could forget his next words completely

it’s a choice, that’s the thing. it’s a choice and he makes it, but it’s a choice between his brother’s entire life being ruined for a stupid little mistake that he made when he was a kid, or virgil running a few slightly illegal errands for some shady man. it’s a choice, and it’s one he makes willingly. not only is his baby brother’s wellbeing at stake, but also his own. he doesn’t know what he’ll do if hendo finds out about how shady his family is

but it gets out of hand. at first it’s just a few drops of packages that virgil determinedly doesn’t look into, because he knows he won’t like what he finds. he can do that, can just pretend it’s something different, that this stranger doesn’t have all the information in his pocket to ruin so many lives. the packages eventually turn into bigger requests – into violence. virgil has never been a violent person. he might be big, and some people might find his stature imposing, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly

the violence is where he draws the line. he tells the stranger that he’s not going to do it anymore, that he’s done what he asked and he’s done it perfectly, so there’s absolutely no reason for him to carry on

in hindsight, he probably should’ve been a little suspicious about how calm and casual the stranger was when he said that, but he was just so relieved that he didn’t think twice

he forgets about it. well, as much as he can – it still plays on his mind but days pass and turn into weeks, so he doesn’t think about it. it’s over, as far as he’s concerned, and now he wants to make his boyfriend a nice meal and spend quality time with him and the cats

he picks a friday night, when neither of them have got to be up in the morning. buys a nice bottle of wine and cooks jordan’s favourite meal, because he always finishes earlier than jordan does

except jordan doesn’t come home when he’s supposed to. virgil doesn’t hear the familiar crunch of his tires over the gravel in the driveway, or his keyrings clinking against each other. he doesn’t hear the familiar inflection of jordan’s accent shouting virgil’s name or the incomprehensible muttering about virgil leaving his trainers in the middle of the hall

at first he thinks jordan is just caught up at work, but then an hour turns into three, turns into five and the worry is gnawing at his stomach, making him nauseous. it doesn’t help that jordan isn’t answering any of his calls, either – no matter how many times he dials that familiar number 

on the twenty second time he calls, the ringing stops and there’s silence. jordan has finally fucking picked up, and virgil snaps at him, asks him where he’s been and why the fuck isn’t he home, but the voice that answers isn’t jordan. the accent is dutch. familiar. virgil’s heart sinks into his stomach and tears prick at his eyes, because he should have known he wasn’t getting out of it this easily

his chest feels tight, breaths struggling to go in, but the stranger just laughs. tells virgil that he got what he deserved for thinking he’s the one in control here. tells virgil that if he doesn’t do as he’s told, his little boyfriend will die, and it won’t be quick and painless

virgil agrees, says that he’ll do whatever he wants, whatever he needs – as long as he doesn’t hurt jordan. that’s the only thing that matters

the stranger gives him instructions and hangs up. he sounds so smug that it makes fury boil in virgil’s veins and before he even realises what he’s doing, he’s scrolling through his contacts until he finds his father’s number. he’s not even sure why he kept it, but right now he’s glad. the nausea sets in while he listens to it ring, and he bites his tongue when his dad answers

“i fucking hate you,” he spits, means every word of it. “i hate you. i hate what you’ve done to me. you’ve ruined my life, you’ve ruined everything, and i will never, ever forgive you.” 

“okay,” his dad replies, completely unfazed. virgil somehow hates him even more. “is that all you called for?” 

“i’m in liverpool. where does your gang operate?” virgil asks, voice hard. he knows his father will give him an answer, because that’s the least he deserves. “they’ve taken my fucking boyfriend, ron. they’ve taken him and i won’t let them hurt him, so tell me where they’ve set up around here.”

ron does the only decent thing he’s ever done in his life, and tells virgil. he doesn’t even say goodbye before he hangs up and then he’s dialling the number for jordan’s dad. he’s a police officer – virgil needs the back up. he’s rational enough to know that he’s too emotional for this, and he’ll never forgive himself if jordan ends up hurt, or worse, because of him

he stands back and watches as armed police surround the warehouse. it’s nothing out of the ordinary, really – there are hundreds of empty buildings around the docks, and this one is no different. virgil has walked past it dozens of times and he didn’t think twice about it

he’s not really thinking twice about it now, to be honest. he just wants his jordan back, in his arms and in one piece, and his heart is hammering against his ribcage when the armed officers burst through the doors. jordan’s dad stands next to him, an arm around his shoulders, and he’s really surprised that he’s not blaming virgil

it feels like hours, days, but it’s probably only minutes before that familiar stranger is being dragged out. he’s glaring, and if looks could kill then virgil would be six foot under already, but he makes a point of not looking at him. instead, he watches a few other men being dragged out, ones that virgil vaguely recognises from his dad bringing them around when he was a kid 

eventually, jordan is being helped out by an officer, and virgil’s knees almost buckle with relief. he’s got a few cuts and bruises, blood streaked through his hair, but he’s okay. that’s the main thing – he’s okay

he heads straight to virgil, not even blinking at the sight of his dad standing there, and throws his arms around his neck, shuddering out a sigh when virgil tightens his arms around jordan’s waist. it’s only been half a day since he’s had jordan’s skin under his hands but it felt like years, and he buries himself into the older man’s warmth, into his scent

“i’m okay,” jordan whispers, thumb stroking along virgil’s hairline at his temple. virgil still isn’t quite convinced though, and he guides jordan towards the ambulance that’s waiting and makes sure he gets checked over properly

he is okay, to which jordan mutters, i told you so, but still, virgil would rather be safe than sorry. he takes jordan home and then helps him up the stairs and into the shower, hesitating when jordan tells him that he’s okay, that he can manage to wash himself. still, he knows that jordan probably needs some space after what just happened to him, so he heads downstairs and lowers himself into an armchair

what just happened – fucking hell. jordan nearly died, and it was virgil’s fault. dragged him into this and didn’t even give him any warning. he had no idea who virgil’s dad was or what he did. he probably feels like he doesn’t even know who virgil is anymore, if anything he told him was true

he’s probably going to leave.

jordan is taking his time in the shower, and virgil manages to convince himself that he’s in their bedroom, packing a bag and trying to figure out how to tell virgil that he’ll come back for the rest of his stuff later. nothing would surprise him after the fucking mess he’s made of everything 

when jordan comes back down, he’s dressed in a comfy pair of joggers and one of virgil’s hoodies, fingers tangled in the baggy sleeves of it as he pads across the living room. he says something, but virgil doesn’t even hear it, let alone reply

“virgil?” jordan asks, close enough that virgil has to snap out of his thoughts. he doesn’t look up from the floor, can’t bring himself to make eye contact, because he doesn’t deserve that. “i said, do you want a cup of tea?” 

“if you’re going to leave me, can you just – not drag it out?” virgil says quickly, the words choked as they leave his mouth. the thought of it makes his heart beat twice as fast, tongue too big for his mouth, and he quickly wipes the tears away that have spilled over his cheeks.

jordan drops to his knees just as quickly, both hands coming up to frame virgil’s face. he lifts his head, makes him look at him, and whispers, “i’m not going anywhere, virgil.”

virgil blinks. he’s so confused. “even after all the lies? all the pain i’ve put you through? you could have died, jordan. it would have been my fault,” he says.

“no,” jordan says, shaking his head. his thumb traces along virgil’s bottom lip carefully. “i love you, and that means i love all of you. even the parts that have a shitty excuse of a man for a father. even the parts that you haven’t told me about. i love you, and that means i’m all in.”

virgil can’t help it. he bursts into tears, sobs wracking through his entire body. he’s never felt unconditional love like this before, because even his mother was half terrified he’d turn out like his father, but jordan doesn’t see any of that. jordan sees virgil, and nobody else

jordan slides his arms around virgil’s shoulders and pulls him in close, for a tight hug. he lets him cry it out for as long as he needs, shushing him gently, and doesn’t say a word when virgil falls silent

that’s unconditional love. it means more to virgil than he could ever describe.

send me an au and i’ll give you headcanons

[earaercircular]

Will plants also soon remove PFOS from the soil?

The first leaves of hundreds of hemp plants are crawling upwards.

The way in which we now remediate polluted soils costs a lot of money. Scientists see an alternative in phytoremediation, where plants and bacteria do the work. An entrepreneur even devised a revenue model.

The first leaves of hundreds of hemp plants are crawling up between the remains of gravel on a vacant lot in the Vierwindenstraat in Molenbeek[1], near the Weststation. Until the beginning of last year, large storage sheds of the wine wholesaler Cinoco[2]were located here. After 168 years, he fled the bustle of the capital and now works from Nivelles[3]. Some of the warehouses have already been demolished and in four years there should be 79 apartments.

Until the works start, hemp is grown. After harvesting, its woody stems will be mixed with lime and processed into an insulating material that can be used in walls, floors and roofs. “I have been involved in sustainable construction techniques, such as timber construction, for many years. I am always looking for new products and applications for that," says Frederik Verstraete of Relife,[4] the young company behind the hemp plantation in Molenbeek. Relife also planted the fast-growing, fiber-rich – and explicitly non-hallucinogenic – hemp in five places in Flanders[5]. “It is a plant that grows very quickly, even without fertilizers and even on poor soils. Because it grows to meters high so quickly, it also stores a relatively large amount of CO2 in the short term.”

Chernobyl

According to Verstraete, the greatest asset of the hemp plant is underground. “I started this project six months ago after I heard that scientists had succeeded in extracting radioactive elements from agricultural lands around Chernobyl by planting hemp on it. How fantastic would it be to first remediate polluted soils in Belgium with the same plant, and then turn it into sustainable insulation material?”

The process described by Verstraete is known in science as phytoremediation. In our country, it has been studied for over 25 years by Jaco Vangronsveld of the Center for Environmental Sciences[6] at Hasselt University. “You can think of the plant as a pump, which uses its roots to suck water and nutrients from the soil to feed itself,” explains Vangronsveld. “In addition, plants also attrackt contaminants to their root zone. However, there are always a lot of bacteria in and around plants. Those micro-organisms can get their energy from the breakdown of that pollution, they then produce a process comparable to eating it. This releases water and CO2, but the contamination has been removed from the soil.”

Vangronsveld thus tackled groundwater contamination with poplars at the site of the former Ford factory in Genk. “Nevertheless, we continue to remediate soils in Flanders by pumping up polluted water and excavating soils. Maybe because phytoremediation is too cheap? Contractors can charge high amounts for soil remediation. But the excavated soil has to go somewhere. Dikes are often built with it, with plastic foil over it to isolate the pollution, but that is not a definitive solution.”

Vangronsveld has never used hemp to clean up organic contaminants before on his trial fields, but he is currently supervising a doctoral research project in which all bacteria and fungi that occur in and around hemp plants are investigated. “That is a crucial step in researching the remediation capacities of hemp. Although, based on existing insights, we can already say with considerable certainty that the hemp plant has those capacities.”

There are, however, a few caveats to be made. Hemp has the advantage of growing very quickly, but the roots only reach a few tens of centimeters deep. Vangronsveld: “That means that the hemp must be given enough time to pull the pollution out of the ground. How long is hard to say, but five years, possibly even ten years, is no exaggeration.”

The plants in Molenbeek do not stay that long. They will be harvested this autumn to make way for the new construction project. The soil has therefore already been remediated in the traditional way. Verstraete: “It is a pilot project to show that it is not only technically possible, but also economically profitable. In the meantime, together with OVAM[7], we are looking for large polluted sites that can be planted for a long time.”

This raises the question of whether the PFOS[8]-contaminated site of chemical company 3M could also be remediated by phytoremediation. “PFOS is also an organic substance, but the fluorine groups make these molecules less ‘appetizing’ to bacteria and fungi and therefore more difficult to break down. There are also thousands of types of PFOS. It will therefore be more difficult than with petroleum or other hydrocarbons. Don't expect miracles," says Vangronsveld. “Nevertheless, I'm pretty sure that, if the funding were there, we could find effective combinations of plants and micro-organisms that could also clear up PFOS contaminants. That could be hemp, but also another plant species.”

Vangronsveld is joined in this by Michel Chalot, professor of plant sciences at the Université Bourgogne Franche-Comté[9] in Montbéliard, France. “There is not much literature available yet on phytoremediation of PFOS contaminants, but it could be interesting. Much depends on the degree of pollution. At huge concentrations it becomes difficult. Even with less severe pollution, it could take decades.”

Verstraete: 'In Brussels, it often takes more than ten years between devising a building project and laying the foundation stone. During that time, hemp plants can remove a lot of pollution from the soil, store CO2 and supply raw materials for insulation material. I hope we will take phytoremediation much more seriously soon.”

Source

Pieter Van Maele, Halen planten binnenkort ook PFOS uit de grond? in De Standaard, zaterdag 31 juli 2021 https://www.standaard.be/cnt/dmf20210730_97690163?

[1] Molenbeek-Saint-Jean (French) or Sint-Jans-Molenbeek (Dutch),often simply called Molenbeek, is one of 19 municipalities of the Brussels-Capital Region (Belgium). The Molenbeek brook, from which it takes its name, flows through the municipality. In common with all of Brussels’ municipalities, it is legally bilingual (French–Dutch). [2] https://www.cinoco.com/nl/blogs/news/nous-avons-demenage 2020 marks a new page in Cinoco's history. They have settled in Nivelles-Nord (Nivelles-North), in the « Portes de l'Europe » business park, in a new building that meets the latest requirements in terms of accessibility (delivery, storage, etc.. .). A passive building, the EAN scanning of all products, a safe locker for collecting your orders outside our opening hours are some of the planned improvements. [3] Nivelles is a city and municipality located in the Belgian province of Walloon Brabant. [4] https://www.relife.bio/ It is Relife’s aim to fight against CO2 emissions, fight against pesticides and soil pollution and offer ecological and natural alternatives in the construction world. Thanks to the planting of hemp, the company is also opening the fight against these problems. The hemp plants can absorb an immense amount of CO2, they grow so fast that there are no weeds, because of the phytoremediation the plant purifies the soil and the hemp shives can later be used as insulation. [5] Flanders is the Dutch-speaking northern portion of Belgium and one of the communities, regions and language areas of Belgium. The demonym associated with Flanders is Fleming, while the corresponding adjective is Flemish. The official capital of Flanders is the City of Brussels. The government of Flanders oversees the community aspects of Flanders life in Brussels, such as Flemish culture, health care and education. [6] https://www.uhasselt.be/CMK In 1997, the existing environmental research of several UHasselt research groups was brought together under one roof, the Centre for Environmental Sciences, CMK. Initially, CMK as a research institute focused on issues related to environmental stress in general, and more specifically on effects on organisms, soil, water and air contamination. Over the years, CMK expanded its research capabilities to provide academic expertise and leadership for two additional research lines: “sustainable, clean technologies”, and biodiversity, ecosystem services and climate change”. [7] https://www.ovam.be/over-ons OVAM is a Flemish government agency that ensures that in Flanders is dealt with waste, materials and soil in a well-considered and environmentally aware way. It gives direction to the policy on waste, materials and soil and thus influence the implementation of the legislation. it protects the soil by checking the soil quality in Flanders, preventing contamination and carrying out official soil remediation. It helps families and businesses to avoid and sort waste properly. Together with all inhabitants, It is working on a circular economy, in order to maximize the lifespan and reuse of products and raw materials. [8] Perfluorooctanesulfonic acid (PFOS) (conjugate base perfluorooctanesulfonate) is an anthropogenic (human-made) fluorosurfactant, now regarded as a global pollutant. PFOS, PFOA and other PFASs are known to persist in the environment and are commonly described as persistent organic pollutants, also known as “forever chemicals”. [9] Université Bourgogne Franche-Comté (UBFC) is a community of universities and institutions (COMUE); it was born on 1st April 2015 and gathers seven higher-education and research institutions. Besides this regional economic activity, the key competences of Bourgogne – Franche-Comté have led to the emergence of three scientific lines of research recognised as themes of excellence at the international scale: Advanced materials, waves, intelligent systems; Territories, environment, food; Integrated personalised care https://www.ubfc.fr/en/about-ubfc/presentation/