#food waste documentary

[inviso-bill-strikes-again]

part of me is like "wow I really must be faking this mental illness for attention" when I literally live alone and do not speak about my issues to anyone ever . bitch whose attention do you want .

[cobaltperun]

Darkest Part - Gives You Hell

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist / Next Part

Word count: 4.3k

-If you find a man that's worth a damn and treats you well, then he's a fool, you're just as well, hope it gives you hell-

Four minutes left.

You rushed through the park, cursing that the tiled path wasn’t straight. More than anything you cursed your own refusal to run over the grass just to save half a minute. Damn Miss Harrington for keeping everyone after class.

“I dismiss you, my ass,” you wasted precious air to complain and knowing you’d have to go back if you went for the gate, you just jumped over the fence, wincing as it shook behind you. Someone yelled at you to be more careful, but you just began running again, just barely crossing the street before the light turned red.

You spared a moment to look at your watch, two minutes left, and the library was finally in sight. You picked up the pace, luckily avoiding the crowd. Your lungs were burning, tempting you to stop and take a break. So what if you were a minute or two late for work? The world wouldn’t end if you failed to get there on time.

As if. The world might not end, but you were too proud of your perfect record to accept that. You would be there on time and then catch your breath.

“Watch out!” a cyclist yelled a warning, and you looked to the side and just narrowly avoided colliding with him.

“Sorry!” you yelled back as he cursed after you. Well, you did cross his path, so he had the right to do it. Not that you had the time to contemplate on your reckless running as you skidded to a stop in front of the library and went up the stairs as fast as you could. “Right on time,” you went through the door with less than twenty seconds to spare and were met with the annoyance of the people in the library trying to read.

You chuckled sheepishly and then sighed, hanging your head low as you walked through the library as if it was your personal walk of shame. You could just feel the disapproving glares following you, and though you knew it wasn’t exactly everyone in the library judging you it still felt like that. In reality it was more like three people out of about a dozen currently in the library.

“Maybe next time ruin your perfect record instead of barging in and disturbing everyone,” your co-worker and best friend Alex whispered as you went into the break room to leave your things.

“Leave her be, I think it’s cute,” one of the regulars at the library, a pretty, tall girl whose name you somehow kept forgetting whispered and winked at you.

You just shrugged, nodding thanks out of politeness. You were still not sure if she was trying to flirt with you or if she just so happened to always pick the table closest to the counter you and Alex were sitting behind.

~X~

A bit over six and a half hours later, with your backpack on your back and a small paper bag in hand, you opened the doors of the apartment on the seventh floor. You glanced back at the staircase and then at the elevator that worked once in a blue moon. ‘Guess I’m lucky I’m in shape,’ it was a thought that often crossed your mind. Well, childhood spent playing different sports helped.

You locked the doors behind you. “I’m home!” you exclaimed, yelling over the sound of the TV, some animal documentary from what you could hear. Whales? Probably whales. Your mom liked whales a lot. You looked around, the fading scent of cleaning products grabbed your attention, and you noticed it immediately. The lack of any dust, the clean mirror in the hall, tiled floor being so clean you could probably apply the three-second rule to the food if any was dropped on it. The apartment was too clean for your liking, she was cleaning again. Desperately trying to at least take that off your back. “Mom, don’t push yourself,” you sighed as you stepped into the living room and saw her lying on the sofa.

She looked… fragile… in pain, and you swallowed hard, remembering how healthy she was just a year ago. How did things change so quickly?

“Y/N,” she sat up, wincing and holding her back as she did so. “Hey, Sweetheart, how was your day?” she still gave you a gentle, loving smile as you set your bag next to the table and leaned in to kiss her cheek and hug her.

“Great, don’t worry about it,” you whispered and pulled out the medicine from the paper bag, pain killers, for her. Her back’s been killing her, so much so that she could no longer work.

She still went and cleaned the apartment because you just had no time to do it these past few days. The guilt gnawed at you, even if deep down you knew you physically couldn’t do everything.

You felt her hugging you tighter. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized to you on a daily basis, her voice quivering with regret. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how she felt, seeing you work two jobs to take care of her and try and ensure you could continue your education.

“It’s going to be okay, everything will be okay,” and like always you reassured her, fearing something would break if you didn’t. You let go of her and went into the bathroom to freshen up and then heat the dinner up. You weren’t doing bad financially, with just the two of you and owning the two-bedroom apartment instead of paying the rent you had a comfortable life. The issue was saving money for the future, primarily for your college education, and there was no telling if your mom’s health would deteriorate further.

“Alex said hi, by the way. His parents invited us to come over for dinner if you’d like,” you said as you got the lasagna out of the fridge and set the table.

“He’s a good kid,” your mom commented, and he was. Alex was about a year older than you and working at the library, where you met him. You hit it off fairly quickly, he was easy to be around, easy to talk to, cheerful and always willing to encourage those around him.

“So, will you go with me?” you asked, and she nodded, while leaving the apartment would be a bit of a struggle you knew it would be good for her to go outside and be around other people.

~X~

Astrid Deetz was many things, but here, in the library, she was just another girl. No one but the people that worked here needed to know who she was, so, at least here, she wasn’t a freak. She was just another girl reading books. The library allowed coffee to be brought in, as long as the one bringing it was responsible for any potential damages and wasn’t borrowing one of the more valuable books that couldn’t easily be replaced, which was why she preferred reading here instead of going home.

Summer vacations forced her to spend time at home, with her mother, so, the more of that time she could spend away from home the better. Especially since Rory was often at her mother’s house. She was actually surprised he didn’t move in yet, but maybe her mother wasn’t completely blind after all. Who was she kidding? It was only the matter of time before he manipulated her mother into moving in.

Eventually she felt the need to go and grab a bite, so she got up and went to return the book only to see a rather annoying sight and freeze on the spot. There you were, the one flaw of the library she was currently in.

You were currently talking to a tall, blonde girl that looked ridiculously smitten with you, listening to every word you spoke as if you were solving all of life’s mysteries for her. How naïve did the girl have to be to get fooled by the soft, easy smile on your face and patience as you helped her find a new book. And you? Leading the poor girl on, knowing she didn’t really need help and being completely aware that she was just trying to flirt with you. Cruel pain in her ass, that’s what you were.

Luckily, she noticed Alex, your co-worker there as well and went toward him to return her book.

“Miss Deetz, hope everything was to your liking,” he greeted her politely, though Astrid noticed your mood immediately souring the moment her name was said. There it was, your true face. You hid it well though, and the girl blindly in love with you didn’t even notice the shift in your mood.

“Other than certain someone being here, absolutely,” Astrid didn’t even bother hiding her disdain for you.

Alex brushed it off and took the book back. “Good thing I’m here as well,” he said and Astrid wholeheartedly agreed.

“Chihuahua,” you faked a cough to hide the insult, and Astrid felt a vein pop on her forehead.

“Ignoramus,” she spat back and walked by you as you straightened your back, and she didn’t need to look back to know your eyes widened as you stared after her.

And she smiled, knowing she got a more genuine reaction than the girl a head taller than her ever could, no matter how much she flirted.

~X~

You were running on coffee and spite and simple need for money, otherwise you were sure you could fall asleep on your feet while you were washing the chisels and other tools Delia used. Tomorrow you could sleep in, relax just for a bit and recover from the grueling week. Morning job at Delia’s place, four hours, then summer art classes, preparing you for college. You were going to study architecture, hopefully to pursue your passion and design green and sustainable buildings.

And while working with Delia was helping you with your financial circumstances, it was also slowly letting you meet people, make connections and your life at least a bit easier in the future. Still, between working for Delia, the classes, and then the library you were away from home for roughly thirteen hours, which wasn’t exactly ideal for someone who just recently turned eighteen.

“Y/N, could you go and fetch new carving set I ordered?” Delia asked, well, it was more of an order, rather than a request.

“Now?” you asked as you glanced at the clock. You’d have to run again, and you’d probably still be ten minutes late, but work was work.

Delia must have followed your line of sight because she hummed. “No, pick it up on Monday,” she genuinely surprised you with that, she was usually a lot more absorbed in her own work to notice things like that.

“Thank you,” you smiled slightly.

“Architecture, right?” and she surprised you again, you didn’t think she’d remember a conversation you had several months ago.

You nodded and began drying the tools. “Green architecture, I hope,” you knew your eyes shone brightly as you said that. You loved talking about it, about how that was the future, the way to reach a compromise and protect the environment.

Delia looked lost in her thoughts for a moment and then she abruptly began laughing. “Hilarious,” she commented and shook her head.

You were confused, and frankly a bit annoyed, she didn’t strike you as someone who’d find it funny. Hell, she sounded a bit impressed when you first told her, so this reaction genuinely puzzled you. “What is?” you asked slowly, hoping your voice didn’t give away how you felt.

“Just how similar your views and goals are, yet you bicker all the time,” Delia pointed out and walked back to her sculpture, still chuckling every now and then.

You scowled, knowing exactly who she was talking about. The chihuahua that consumed the thesaurus and forced you to Google several words, ignoramus included. You should have guessed it basically meant someone ignorant. The damn infuriating pain in your ass. And Delia’s granddaughter, well, step-granddaughter.

And now Delia said you and Astrid had something in common.

Your day was ruined.

Beyond saving.

Well, maybe making Astrid Deetz lose her composure or force her to Google something would salvage your day, but how the hell were you supposed to make the walking thesaurus Google anything?

~X~

Work sweet work, well, compared to working for Delia. Sure, working for Delia was closer to your artistic side, but the library just had a charm to it that not a lot of places could compete with. The smell of old paper, layers of dust hidden from passing glances since the place was rarely properly cleaned. Not that you blamed anyone working here, you helped with the cleaning three times since starting to work here in the library, and your muscles ached at the mere thought of those times. Moving shelves upon shelves worth of books was not a fun activity. Still, the next one was still far off and perhaps you’d even be away from this city by then. Going off to study somewhere else, somewhere other than your hometown.

It was a slow day, and you leaned back, relaxing with one earbud in so you weren’t completely mentally absent from your workplace. You could just read, you likely will, in a bit, but you had a long sleepless night last night, studying and catching up on your art projects as well.

Eventually you cracked open a book about Renaissance architecture you meant to get your hands on for a long, long time, and now it was finally available at your workplace. Perks of working in the library, you guessed. Just as you were about to start reading the doors opening and a rather annoying girl walking in made your mood drop instantly. She didn't even look at you, just began looking through the shelves, clearly looking for something you could easily help her with if she wasn't so damn proud. You took a deep breath and walked over to the girl, at least you could get it over with quickly. "Deetz, what are you looking for?"

And she ignored you, completely, she didn't even go around you and instead moved with such certainty that you actually had to step back so she wouldn't walk into you.

So, she chose this approach today. It was either insults or pretending you didn’t even exist.

Infuriating entitled brat.

"This would be so much easier if someone worked here," she had the nerve to complain as your jaw dropped and you simply looked at her, flabbergasted by the girl's behavior yet again.

"Unbelievable," you shook your head as Alex came up to the two of you and you couldn’t be happier to see him jumping to your rescue.

"Hey, could you help me find a book?" she immediately asked him, and he looked between you and her with a raised eyebrow, as if he couldn’t already tell what was going on.

You just shrugged. "You're not invisible, good for you," you didn't leave yet, mostly out of spite. Astrid Deetz would not have the satisfaction of knowing she got under your skin, and she especially would not have the satisfaction of you backing away.

"What the- oh, you two are just playing another one of your games," he decided, completely ignoring the absolute dislike bordering on hatred between you and Astrid Deetz.

"I am not playing any games," you both said at the same time and huffed when you realized that.

"Would you look at that, you're in sync as well," he whistled as if he was trying to tease you.

"Bullshit!" you both denied it, once more at the same time and you just waved him off, though you were really tempted to flip him off, and went back to your desk. Pride and the damn Deetz gloating over her ability to indirectly annoy you be damned, you couldn’t stand being anywhere near her.

Eventually, your teasing, traitorous co-worker joined you. “She really likes reading, doesn’t she? And you’d think she’d be some rich kid who scoffs at the very idea of borrowing books instead of buying them, or even hate having the actual book in her hands instead of reading an e-book,” Alex commented, sounding actually impressed by the short annoyance.

You just grunted as a response, after all, you’d never admit you did notice what he just now pointed out. You noticed that from the moment you saw her, months ago, studiously going through several books seeking something rather specific. The unbreakable concentration impressed you back then, but back then you were blind to her actual personality. Still, if there were two things one could count on as far as Astrid Deetz was involved was that she hated her mother and loved reading. That being said Alex did not need to know you had any positive thought about the girl in question. You’d rather die than admit anything nice about the girl, even if deep down you did admire her love for books and reading.

“You’re not going to answer?” he probed for answers, though he should know better by now.

“I’ve got nothing to say,” you muttered and leaned onto your hand, if you could just avoid Astrid for the rest of your life, you’d be the happiest person alive, but no, you just needed to bump into her almost on a daily basis. Either in the library, or at your other work. Granted, it was mostly at the library, but sometimes she would drop by and visit her step-grandmother. That was, beside Delia sometimes getting ridiculous ideas, the only actual downside of your other work. Imagine your surprise when you went to work one day and saw Astrid there, you nearly quit right then and there.

“Yeah, cause she makes you Google new insult she hurls at you every other day,” Alex snickered, trying not to disturb anyone.

You groaned, facepalming as you leaned back in your chair. She really did make you Google things she said a lot. You still remembered Googling barnacle, her favorite word for you. Leave it to Astrid Deetz to declare you as something difficult to get rid of, when you’d do anything in your power to never see her again.

~X~

Astrid did not enjoy making trips to the parts of the town where her family might be, she seldom wanted anything to do with them, especially her mother, but it also began including her step-grandmother after she went and hired the worst possible candidate. You.

But, she had to go and visit a store a few floors above her grandmother so, here she was, in the elevator and certain she would not run into you the very next morning after your encounter at the library. She wasn’t that unlucky, was she? How she almost always ended up visiting during your shift was beyond her grasp. Maybe there was something in all the bullshit her mother talked about, and she was actually cursed with how often she encountered the one person she despised the most.

The elevator stopped and the doors opened, and she nearly didn’t look up to see who was coming in. She should have ignored it, should have stared at the wall or something, but no, no, she just had to look!

Astrid could not believe her misfortune as you, carrying a fairly big box, walked into the elevator one floor above her and so far down from her own floor so she would need to actually be in a closed space with you. And she despised the very idea of that. So, just as the doors were about to close she bolted outside.

"What the- that was reckless Deetz!" she heard you yelling. And if there was even a hint of worry in your voice it was absolutely because her grandmother would rope you into whatever funeral arrangement she would choose for her if Astrid happened to tragically pass away.

"Shut it!" she yelled back.

"Fucking chihuahua!" you cursed, and she could feel her blood pressure skyrocketing as the elevator went up. You and your awful nickname for her.

"Damn barnacle!" she yelled back loud enough for you to possibly hear her. She would have the last word no matter what! Insufferable thorn in her side that she couldn’t get out of her life no matter how hard she tried. And to make things even Delia occasionally mentioned you just to get a rise out of her.

Not that anyone needed to tell her anything, she knew you worked two jobs, for whatever reason. Barely any difference in age, yet such different circumstances. While Astrid could do nothing for the rest of her life and still be fine you apparently didn’t have that luxury.

And in those rare moments Astrid would actually notice you despite trying her best not to, she never once heard or saw you complaining about anything. She was actually the only reason for complaining you ever had as far as she could tell. So, while she could find it in herself to admit your work ethic was somewhat admirable, you still could go right back to whatever hell you came out of.

Because that is exactly what you deserved.

Hell.

Okay, maybe not hell.

But definitely not much better than hell!

~X~

You weren’t just annoyed, you were beyond pissed off. How reckless was that girl? “Yeah, I really need that on my consciousness,” you bit out, knowing you’d blame yourself if she ended up getting hurt just because you happened to get into the elevator when she was already inside it.

How were you even supposed to guess she’d be there?!

You opened the doors to Delia’s studio with your elbow and went inside, closing the doors behind you with your foot. You really should have just taken the stairs, but the box you were carrying would have been a pain in your ass if you went with that. Sore muscles might still be a better alternative to having this encounter with Astrid. “Chihuahua,” you gritted out through your teeth as you set the box down.

“Astrid?” you jumped when Delia suddenly spoke up.

You stared at her blankly, as if she needed to ask. She’s seen several of your and Astrid’s hateful clashes.

“She takes after her mother,” the older woman commented as you began pulling out different art supplies from the box.

You had no idea why Delia would even tell you anything about Astrid. You did not need to know, didn’t care about knowing. “I find it hard to imagine anyone could be as infuriating as her,” you frowned, causing Delia to laugh, almost delighted by the comment. Lydia seemed okay, a bit paranoid and utterly blind to her boyfriend’s true intentions, but otherwise she was nice. You couldn’t imagine Lydia being anything like Astrid when she was younger.

“Oh, you have no idea. I reckon Astrid’s attitude is karma finally paying a visit to Lydia,” she sure sounded certain of that claim and you just hummed, internally feeling sorry for whoever had to deal with Astrid being their karma. That seemed like a rather cruel and unjust punishment.

“Mr. Deetz won’t be joining us today?” you asked, noticing the absence of Delia’s husband, though you asked the question mostly to avoid talking about Astrid.

“No, no, he went bird-watching,” she dismissed and you nodded, knowing just how much the man loved doing so, even if it meant traveling the great distances. It was admirable, really, to see someone as old as he was still being passionate about something to that extent. You could only hope you’d have as much energy as him and Delia when you reach their age.

~X~

That night you stood in front of the canvas, a bit of paint smeared on your cheek, an old white shirt you were wearing and your hand. You held your paintbrush as you observed a fairly accurate painting of the Durham Cathedral. It’s been about a month since you started working on the painting, using what little free time you had to work on it, and here it was, finally complete. You set the brush and colors down on your table and sat down, just looking at it with a smile on your face.

You really wished you could go and visit it. You actually had a lot of places you wanted to visit, to study, to touch the old buildings, feel their history and the flow of time coursing through them. The flyer on your table caught your attention and you reluctantly picked it up. It was an ad, seeking volunteers for planting trees. You sighed, massaging your shoulder and wincing at the dull pain in your muscles. You had two days off, you should rest, but you already knew you’d go, you couldn’t help it, that was how you were.

So, knowing you’d go there early in the morning you went and got ready for bed, hoping the shower would relax your aching body.

~X~

“What the fuck?” Astrid halted in the middle of the park, hoping it was just the summer heat. Yeah, that had to be it. The heat was making her see things. It was your damn day off, wasn’t it? Why were you in the park digging a hole for a tree?

Astrid narrowed her eyes, furious at everything. At your shirt clinging to your arms. At the drop of sweat you just brushed off your forehead. At the concentrated look in your eyes and the focus and the way you still had the energy to come and volunteer despite working two jobs.

“Barnacle,” she hissed under her breath and went to the other part of the park, as far from you as she possibly could go while still doing her part as one of the volunteers.

A/N: So, tell me what you think and if you’d like to be on the taglist?

Masterlist / Next Part

[mikimakiboo]

I've started writing backstories for the Time Travelers gang so I might as well continue

Starting with Dust ! ( I stole the idea of him having a passion for history from @ancha-aus but shhhhhht )

So so so

When Dust was a child he wasn't really the best kid to have, he was kind of a trouble maker, stealing from stores, starting fights at school, disturbing the classes (except history classes, he was actually very invested in this class), bad grades, ... he started smoking at 14 and would sometimes smoke illegal substances that he would acquire at school (as it wasn't a very clean school, but clearly his parents didn't care about what kind of establishment they sent their son to), come back late, stay in the streets, and all things that would earn him a few trips to the police station, tho they weren't very hard on him because he was a kid and they knew he wasn't mean but rather lost as his parents weren't guiding him as they should have

So basically Dust could do practically all he wanted because he knew his parents didn't care about him anyway

His parents were actually pretty tired of him, especially because his little brother was nothing like him, he was very calm, had good grades, was helpful, ... he was everything Dust wasn't, and so his parents only wanted one thing: for Dust to leave so they could keep only his brother

So when Dust turned 18, his parents gave him a suitcase and a bag, and he was out of the house the very next day

He quickly got a job in some fast food as to not stay homeless too long and because he needed to eat so he needed some money, couldn't rely entirely on stealing, so he started working and rented a shitty apartment in a shitty building but at least he had a roof above his head so he didn't bother to look for something better

He worked for two years and at twenty he figured he wanted to do something else, something a least a little better than working at a fast food, something he liked, so he started saving money each month until he had enough to apply to college and study history, the one and only class he always was interested in

So he started studying, working on the side as he couldn't afford to stop working, and was really invested

But unfortunately investment doesn't do everything and money became too tight for him, he couldn't paid both his bills and his classes, so after two years he sadly had to drop out of college and never got a diploma

He however didn't lose his passion and kept watching documentaries and reading books, his dream being saving enough money to travel and discover the runes of the old civilisations

Now talking about trauma

The fact his parents never showed interest in him no matter if he did good or bad and threw him out the moment he turned 18 did affect more than he realizes it because it is the major reason why he always feels like he's not good enough, like he can't be a good company, that people (the tt gang) cannot possibly like him, that's just impossible, his own parents didn't like him so them ??? Impossible

He just doesn't think he's worth it and he is having a hard time accepting that yes, they do love him for himself and not what he could have to offer them, because they don't see him as a waste of space like his parents always did

He's just used to people either not noticing him or being disappointed in him so he now has a very low self esteem and it will take some time to accept that he is lovable (the gang will help him)

[headspace-hotel]

Thinking of your post on the problems of veganism as a movement vs veganism as a lifestyle choice/one technique amongst many, that also applys super well to my issues with degrowth (And anticonsumerism as well) as a movement vs degrowth as one technique amongst many for dealing with the hydra-crisis of overproduction/resource overuse/destroying people and places for resources.

Like, in particular as an autistic person the continual recurring insistence that we need to just "change our desires" creeps me out. As someone who's difficulties were dismissed as just "having a bad attitude" and who's interests were so often dismissed as a waste of time instead of preparing for a job in the "real world" IDK if they truly understand the full horrifying implications of that line of thought.

So here's the thing with the concept of "overconsumption"

I had to do this whole project on overconsumption in my Anthropology class where I compared my consumption habits to those of someone 2 generations older, the prof clearly had in mind that we would discover a particular result that I did not end up finding.

I had to watch this documentary called "Affluenza" which was all about how Americans consume too much and they shop and buy things for fun and it's killing the planet, and it kept making these statements like "The average american does X..." and "X" would be something insane that I've never dreamed of doing.

Now I technically grew up below the poverty line, we were always financially insecure and struggling to pay bills and there was never any extra money lying around.

But my upbringing felt average, even privileged. We had a house instead of a trailer on cinder blocks, we had food and clothes. Compared to the upbringing of my mom and virtually everyone she knew growing up, we lived in fabulous luxury.

And the "overconsumption" lesson was bizarre to me because it brought up things like "going shopping for fun once a week" and "owning 20+ pairs of shoes" as if they were normal. I wear my clothes until they're unwearable and shop for clothes like once a year, and my mom has half as many clothes as I do. She feels guilty buying anything for herself and HATES shopping.

It feels like the dominant resources on living an eco friendly lifestyle presume that we have far more agency in what we buy and use than we actually do, instead of being stuck with the cheapest or closest available thing, and that our lives are full of extraneous, non-essential "consumption."

That class brought up the idea of "conspicuous consumption" a lot, or buying things to obtain social status instead of for their concrete utility. The way "conspicuous consumption" was addressed in the class was not very immediately relatable to me—I never had the option of buying clothes just to appear "with it" socially. My parents couldn't buy an extra car to fit the aesthetic of the American dream—we had enough trouble keeping the one we had running. The "conspicuous consumption" that class addressed was just not available to me.

However, I don't think conspicuous consumption is endemic to stable members of a certain socioeconomic status, because consumption is partially driven by the trauma of poverty. People who grew up poor will buy you more Christmas gifts than you can store or use, because they want to spare you the shame they experienced. Their brains are molded around the trauma of not having enough, and giving you enough is their way of keeping you safe.

Conspicuous consumption as a habit is pushed on you if your ancestors were shaped by this trauma. It is a misrepresentation to think of it as driven by pride, because your ability to perform the behaviors and mimic the appearances of a higher socioeconomic status has a concrete effect on how people treat you.

I know J.D. Vance is a nutjob now and Hillbilly Elegy was...not great (I'm more appalachian than you bitch, and I'm not even appalachian!) but the one thing that book got incredibly right was the idea of "social capital" and the way access to financial security and wealth gives you social capital. This is the main thing the current understanding of "conspicuous consumption" gets wrong—the need to escape the appearance and behaviors of poverty is seen as vain and self-indulgent, when it's a survival mechanism and it's something you're expected to engage in to gain opportunities and respect.

Poverty is humiliating. People with money never think about the fact that they have money. They think of themselves as average, if they think of themselves in terms of socioeconomic status at all. Being poor ends up embedded in the grooves and folds of your brain.

I remember when I was about 12, I gave my friend an informal tour of our house the first time she came over, showing her every room. I realized later that this wasn't exactly a normal behavior—I had done it because my mom did the same thing when she brought her friend over, and my mom had done it because it was a way of saying look, I survived. Look, I have a place to live to call my own, isn't this nice?

At its worst, anti-consumerism just reinforces the myth that your consumption is purely a matter of personal choice. And unfortunately when the conversation is ruled by the privileged, this idea will appear substantiated—because rich people can choose the aesthetics of poverty without concretely affecting the way the world treats them. A rich person can choose to live in a "tiny house" but they will never be "trailer trash."

Anti-consumerism revolves around ideas that are almost irreparably tainted by the mythology of an unequal society. Rich people possess and control the aesthetic of restraint and frugality, allowing them to playact living a Simple Life where they live in a tiny minimalist cottage and eat Healthy Vegan Oat Gruel, while McDonalds is the emblem of American excess. It is poor people's behaviors and habits that exemplify excess and greed.

Anti-consumerism isn't going to change anything until it openly confronts the fact that poverty is traumatic and consumption patterns often arise from poverty survival mechanisms.

[wangxianficfinder]

Hello,I know this is not the place to ask for it, but I don't have a single idea where to ask , so if the mods , the followers or anyone seeing this post could answer??

So I'm gonna write a fic, and there's a major plot hole I'm not able to overcome, I know taps didn't exist in the era mdzs canon is set in, and there's mentions on bathing using buckets to fill up tubs. What my question is, is how and where they went to toilet? Especially the disposal? Like in modern system, there's pipeline for everything. But back then how was it?

It may seem silly questions haha, but these are quite important to my plot. My plot exactly needs, how one (in the canon era) goes to toilet inside their house, takes a bath/shower without tubs (this one's easy, with mugs and buckets) , how they get water inside house when there's no river or lake or pond nearby or even in a mile radius.

One more question, how did they save the food from spoiling? And again waste disposal, inside the house, how did they do it??

I urgently need some helpful advice and answers to these, HELP-

To preface, I'm answering this question because I have ADHD and it piqued my interest so I spent like a full hour just reading articles lol I would suggest trying to find a blog that focuses on Ancient China or even just history in general, you can also just look for documentaries/history papers/articles about the subject.

For the toilet question -

From what I found through a google search, they either had a hole dug into the ground with two bricks on either side so they could squat down and go, had a public hole where everyone went (and had to pay), or had a sort of "seat" built above running water. They also appear to have sold their "collection" to farmers to spread around their field as a sort of soil.

Picture of han dynasty toilets:

Sources: here, here and here

evadingreallife said: Also chamberpots for the toilet question

Yes! Also chamber pots.

How did they get water? -

As for the how people got water when not next to a body of water, Wells. They use wells. They also boiled the groundwater if they were cooking with it or drinking it. But they didn't even need water to do their daily hygiene most of the time.

Sources: here, here, here, and here

As for the Food -

Digging deep ditches and trenches, brining, and salting their foods. Fermentation was a very popular way to preserve foods.

Sources: here, here, here, and here

----

I am not Chinese so please take my Googled answers with a grain of salt. If any of my answers are wrong or the sites I used are faulty in anyway, please let me know!

I hope this answers some of your questions.

Good luck with your fic! 😊

- Mod C

[reasonsforhope]

"A new community housing development in the Bronx will feature a cool piece of kit: an on-site aerobic digester that can turn 1,100 pounds of food scraps into 220 pounds of high-quality fertilizer every single day.

Built by Harp Renewables, it’s basically a big stomach filled with bacteria that breaks down food scraps and wasted food into their component parts, and in the future could be a standard part of all apartment units as the amount of food waste in American reaches 30% of the total mass of all trash collection.

The Peninsula, organized by Gilbane Development Company, will feature 740 units of affordable housing, 50,000 square-foot light industrial space and equal sized green space, and 15,000 feet of commercial space, all of which will send their castaway comestibles right into the digester...

Fast Company reports that Christina Grace, founder of a zero-waste food management company, helped plan the design and implementation of the digester into The Peninsula, and helped organize a 40% grant from the city to pay the $50,000 upfront cost.

“The goal is for this material to work its way into the community garden network in the Bronx,” [Christina Grace, who helped plan the design] told the magazine, adding that she expects it to pay for itself over just a few years. “We see this as highly replicable in both commercial and residential venues. We know there’s a need for fertilizer.”

Producing fertilizer right there in the city reduces the need for it to be trucked in from afar, chipping away, even if just a bit, at NYC traffic.

Big problem solver

Perhaps uniquely beneficial to New York City compared to other spots in the U.S. is that the digester will have a significant impact on the Bronx’s share of the city’s rodent problem.

Those who’ve watched the Morgan Spurlock documentary Rats will understand why that’s significant—while those that haven’t will have to imagine what living in a megacity where rats outnumber people by around 8 or 10 to 1 looks like.

Another big problem the bio-digesters could potentially help is pollution and greenhouse gas emissions. Fertilizer is a big emitter of all three of the most-targeted GHGs. Fertilizer, like quarry dust and ammonia is, like so many commodities, often imported from countries who specialize in its production, such as Norway, but also Russia and Ukraine, whose conflict has recently highlighted the fragility of the supply chain with sharp increases in prices...

Bio-digesters by design keep the CO2 and methane in the fertilizer produced, rather than it entering the atmosphere.

For these reasons and more, the aerobic bio-digester is slowly making its way into residential and industrial spaces around the country.

GNN reported on an enormous bio-digester at the heart of the D.C. advanced resource (sewage) recovery center outside the capital, and on the use of bio-digesters on Australian pig farms which are helping reduce the environmental and psychological impact of the effluent produced from such operations.

Harp Renewables tweeted how happy they were to have installed their bio-digester in the town of Cashel, Ireland.

Expect to see more stories like this pop up around the globe."

-via Good News Network, March 17, 2022

Note: Obviously gentrification bad and "affordable housing" is sometimes nowhere near as affordable as it should be, etc. etc. That said, this is such a fantastic use case that I felt I had to post it anyway.

[ruewrote]

𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑓𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦.

PAIRING: jacob custos x fem!reader WARNINGS: jacob's bear trap injury, strong language GENRE: angst / fluff SONG INSPIRATION: start a riot by BANNERS WORD COUNT: 1k

navigation | ask | the quarry masterlist

out of all the horror movies that you'd watch about vampires, zombies and werewolves you never thought you'd ever be in one of your own.

especially not in the summer camp that you'd grown to love over the years.

now desperately trying to find your fellow work friends, hoping that they'd gotten to safety. you silently prayed that you would too as you made your way through the thick forest to the main lodge.

the emergency fire axe felt heavy in your hand, your skin covered in dried mud and blooming bruises. fuck this night, fuck everything.

every little sound terrifying you, not realizing how loud everything used to be until now. whether that be the crunch of twigs underneath your boots or the whoosh of the wind.

"ah fuck! ah shit!" someone whimpered in pain, moving closer as you readied the axe, moving through the trees to find jacob and an old guy with a sniper rifle with his back to you.

"look if you could just--" jacob begged, but soon stopped when you knocked the hunter out with the back of your axe.

"holy shit!" your breath staggered as you dropped to your knees, inspecting the bear trap that had clamped itself around jacobs ankle, surprised that he was even conscious. oh right , adrenaline.

"oh my god, am i happy to see you right now!" he shouts, but is quickly cut off with your hand tightly covering his mouth.

"you've got to be quiet. something is out here with us, i’m not quite sure what, but i've also got to try and pry this open. whatever you do, you've got to be silent. we can't attract more attention to ourselves, okay?" you whisper, earning a timid nod from him.

removing your hand you get to work, glad to have accidentally watched that documentary a while back you were able to press the two spring levers, making it fall open.

you were quick to grab him before he lost his balance, helping him stand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders for support and yours firmly wrapped around his waist. making a slight mental note to ask why he was practically naked later.

helping him back to the lodge for some sort of first aid. the two of you walking in tandem, your grip on him tightening as he wobbled trying to hold back his groans. you reached up for his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. jacob giving you a tight but appreciative smile in return.

your legs ache when you finally reach the building, carefully sitting jacob down on the bench in the kitchen, grabbing the first aid kit out of the cupboard, a fresh glass of water and the paper towels off of the rack.

"i’m not even going to sugarcoat this, this is gonna hurt like a bitch. but i promise i'm gonna try to be as careful as i can, okay?" you uttered and he nodded.

you began to unbuckle your belt, unlooping it before holding it out to him, jacob grabbed a hold of it confused, "to bite down on, worst case,"

not caring if it was dirty or not he bit down on it, letting out a sigh you picked up the glass of water, pouring it around the wound, using a piece of the tissue to swipe away the dirt. briefly looking up to see his hands squeeze the wood underneath him.

wincing for him, you opened a disinfectant wipe wasting no time to swipe it around his injury, making him let out a whine. stopping for a second to place your hand over his.

causing him to look down at you with tears in his eyes, your heart breaking for him. "i know, i'm so sorry. all i gotta do is wrap it up. it shouldn't hurt too bad,"

and so you did, your belt now back to holding up your shorts as you looked through the pantry for any sort of food. making sure that jacob stayed sat down even though he wanted to help.

"a-ha!" you announced, grabbing the unopened box of cereal bars, returning to jacob. "how long do you think they've been in there?" he joked.

"after tonight i think the last thing we have to worry about is expiration dates, but of course i checked and they're okay, actually relatively new so we're good."

handing him one then another for yourself, shoving the rest in your backpack. retrieving the oversized hoodie offering it to him.

"quick question, where are your clothes?"

"me and emma went swimming in the lake for old times sake, until we heard abi scream. well at least i did, emma kinda disappeared after that." his words coming out huffed as he pulled the clothing over his head.

you looked down and started playing with your hands, trying to hide the hurt on your face. of course he was with her! what were you expecting? the whole summer you had been crushing on him, having to stay quiet about it because of her.

"oh. well i'm sure she's okay, she's...strong ya know?" you offered him a small smile.

"thank you by the way," he started, your eyebrows furrowed. "with saving me back there and you patching me up. i swear i was about to die!"

he playfully knocked his shoulder into yours, looking at him concerned, "don't joke like that. i-i don't think i could handle that... losing you i mean." a frown now replaced your smile from just thinking about it.

"hey, hey. i'm not going anywhere, well not if i have a say in it anyways." he leans into you, making you look back up at him.

the way his eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips, made your breath hitch as he leaned closer, lips almost touching when you heard a girl's scream.

"emma?" jacob jumps up and limps out of the lodge, leaving you sitting there alone feeling your heartache and the tears sting in your eyes.

who were you kidding yourself? he'd always pick her.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[garmanarnarr]

Rickorty Week Day 4: Mythological Creatures

vampire morty | 2k words | Rated M for blood drinking and sexual content

@rickortyweek

Morty’s getting pretty good at asking for it. 

“H-hey, Rick?” 

Rick doesn’t look over from the TV, which is currently playing a rerun of a JoJo Siwa political documentary in a universe where she’s the president of the United States. It’s a miniseries, a retrospective, and they’ve been powering through episodes all night. Everyone went to bed long ago; Mom, Dad, and Summer had started to give Morty a wide berth after ten PM. But he doesn’t mind not sleeping, now, because Rick doesn’t sleep either. Only in fits and starts. Sometimes over his work bench, face mashed into mechanical junk, or passed out on the couch. He snores, but only when he’s really drunk– not that Morty’s watching. 

“Um,” Morty says, picking at a thread on the couch cushion. 

“What?” Rick sounds too distant to be annoyed, just flat and tired.

“M’ getting kinda, you know.” 

“What?”

“Hungry?” Morty’s voice cracks on the last part. 

Jojo screams something excitedly on the TV, pointing at a diplomat from another country and waving. Her facial rhinestones match her power suit. 

Rick’s still watching, glazed eyes flashing in the TV’s glow. “Her foreign policy sucked,” he mutters.

“I’m hungry, Rick.” 

“Want me to order some fucking sugar chicken, then?” Rick asks, finally swiveling to actually look at Morty. “Huh, Morty? Want some Panda Express?”

Morty’s throat feels so dry it crackles. He thinks of the pool of sunlight that’ll be creeping towards them through the glass patio doors when the sun rises in a few hours, ready to burn him. His vision blurs a little and he gives a painful swallow. 

“Y-y-you know what I mean, Rick,” he whispers. It isn’t fair that Rick always plays him like this when he’s fucked Morty up in the first place. Experiment gone sour, vampirism— Morty had to pick that term up– spreading too aggressively to be cut out, too deeply to pull the plug and hop to a clone. He rests his hand on the couch next to Rick’s leg. Not touching it, but just, you know, next to it. He can feel the heat of Rick’s body beside his own like he’s sitting near a radiator. Throbbing is such a weird word, but that’s the only way to describe it. Rick is throbbing with heat. Morty runs his tongue over the stubs of his teeth. 

“You know, my blood is probably some of the nastiest shit you could put inside you,” Rick’s saying. “Got yeeears of k-lax and alcohol abuse in here. And some other stuff. I think one of Unity’s non-humanoid bodies might have had–”  

“I don’t care. E-everything else tastes like ass and I don’t want to drink it.” Morty makes a face, saying that out loud, but it’s true. The bags of O-positive Rick had pulled out of his lab freezer after he’d just turned Morty had tasted like the equivalent of soggy pizza cardboard. Real pizza– all normal food– also tastes terrible. Animal blood has a funky, earthy smell and a worse flavor, when he’d tried it. And he isn’t about to make anyone else let him drink their blood.

Rick made his own bed. He can lie in it. 

Rick watches his face for a moment, expression unreadable. Then he sighs, and rolls up his sleeve. 

“Not on the couch, you little moron. Or, you wanna g-get b-blood everywhere?” 

“I won’t get it everywhere,” Morty whines. He did the first time, when they fed in the garage, but he’s neater about it, now. He’d been so new, then, and dying for it, ready to rip Rick’s veins right open, ready to swim inside him to make the pain of his thirst go away. Now, after two weeks of feedings, he doesn’t waste a drop. 

Rick tries to stand, but Morty catches his wrist. He’s taken aback at his own strength; that’s still a surprising perk. He keeps accidentally breaking doorknobs off of classrooms in school. Denting his locker door when he closes it with a slam so loud it echoes through the hallways. Shattering glasses. Jerking his own dick too hard and too fast by accident. 

Rick pauses, looking down at him. He seems like he’s weighing making his grandson let go with words or by force. But Morty doesn’t let go. He can feel the throbbing of Rick’s blood now, pulse pressed against the circle of his fingers. His stomach twists with a tortured sounding gurgle. 

“Please,” he says. 

“Alright. Jesus,” Rick says, sitting back down with a roll of his eyes, yanking his wrist out Morty’s grasp quickly enough to break his hold. “Just a second, A-A-Augustus Gloop.”

He reaches into the breast pocket of his lab coat and pulls out a little packet, which he rips open with his teeth. Morty’s chest thuds because it looked kind of like a condom. He probably shouldn’t have thought that. Rick unfolds the moist towelette inside and uses it to briskly swab the inner part of his forearm. The pale stretch of it gleams up under the light of the ad that’s playing on TV, riddled with blue and green veins, skin going translucent with age. Morty’s mouth waters. 

“You– you just carry a swab with you?” he asks, licking back drool. It’s a genuine question. Did Rick want to– was he just waiting around for Morty to—

“More for my benefit than yours. Human mouths are one of the diEUUGHrtiest parts of our bodies, Morty.” 

“That doesn’t seem true, but okay,” Morty says. 

“I’m not fucking with you. Humans are filthy.” 

Rick throws the used wipe over the back of the couch, then pats the space beside him, like they’re going to cozy up and watch more TV together, easy as anything. Morty crawls over.  

Rick offering his skinny-ass forearm to him like this in the middle of the house is insane. They usually feed in the garage, sitting clinically in separate foldable chairs, lights flipped on. It’s dark in the living room, and it should be hard to see—should leave Morty fumbling and awkward, unable to function—but it doesn’t. Morty’s different, now. Darkness is easy. This close, he can sense all the sweet spots where the most blood flows in Rick’s body and where to land the best bite; he would have liked it a lot better if Rick let him feed at his neck, or at the top of his thighs, or even near his armpits, he thinks, but he’ll take what Rick will give him. 

“Don’t– don’t rip my fuckin’ arm off here, Morty, I need it.” They’re so close together that Rick’s voice is quieter than normal. Maybe he’s a little scared. Morty likes that; the idea of being able to scare Rick, a bit, for once. 

“I won’t,” Morty says with a lisp. His pointy canine teeth are getting longer in his mouth and making it hard to talk. Carefully, he takes Rick’s offered arm into his hands. His left one, the one with less cybernetic shit in it, flesh and blood around a hollow titanium bone that sheathes a grappling device. He smells kind of bad but also kind of good, like he always does, like alcohol sweats and a familiar old man powderiness. Morty darts his tongue across his lower lip. Rick’s chest is rising and falling gently, calmly, as he waits for Morty to start. 

“M’ just– don’t mind me, Morty, just watching TV, here. Just gonna finish this show, or whatever.” 

Rick claims he’s a god-robot-monster all the time— won’t shut up about it. But it turns out he’s still human, Morty thinks, a little vindictively, as he bites down. At least, still human enough to feed him.  

As he adjusts his bite to get the blood flowing, pressing against the smooth, hairless slip of Rick’s forearm with his tongue, he wonders if this was why people like wine. He’d always hated it, and spat out the mouthful of Mom’s that he’d snuck when he was ten and she was on the phone, because it was nasty, but maybe there’s something more appealing to it than he thought. An age and bitterness, in a good way, the kind that gives it a lot of different and interesting flavors at once. That’s what Rick’s blood tastes like. It tastes really fucking good. 

The TV’s making more sounds, but Morty can’t hear them anymore. He’s way too busy gulping Rick’s blood. Distantly, as if it were happening to someone else, he realizes he’s getting hard. Vaguely, he tries to direct his thoughts towards Jessica, but it’s tricky, considering he’s touching Rick and smelling Rick and drinking from Rick’s body. That Rick’s delicious blood is filling his mouth and sliding down his throat with every swallow. 

The flow stutters, so he pressed up all along his grandpa’s side to get a better angle. For a second, his dick brushes against Rick’s leg, hot and obvious. He tenses. Rick doesn’t say anything, though, just keeps sitting there quietly, so he relaxes again. Whatever, if Rick doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, and everything feels good. This is so fucking good. It feels right. He keeps feeding, actively sucking, now, because the flow is starting to taper off, blood only coming in hot spurts when he coaxes it out. He rocks his hips, a little, getting some friction on his dick, because he’s  so warm and full, and that feels good, too—

“—orty. Morty, that’s enough. Stop.”

Morty doesn’t stop. He swirles his tongue needily around the bite marks, pleasure unfurling up from his stomach and over his whole body, from his scalp to the bottom of his feet. Feeding from his grandpa like this is euphoric. 

“M-Morty, stop.” 

A hand pushes him back, roughly. It could be anyone’s hand. Morty is longer tethered to earth, fully. Suddenly, Morty’s laying on the floor by the coffee table, panting, ass sore from falling on it. His chin’s covered in own spit. His cheeks are flushed. There’s a definite tent pitched in his jeans, and everything is cold with the lack of a body to be pressed up against. When he looks up, Rick seems pale, even by his own standards, and his hair’s wilder, too. He’s blinking kind of a lot, staring down at Morty with fury on his face despite his heavy eyelids. He looks like he’s having trouble staying awake. 

“You– you don’t know how lucky you are that my cybernetic enhancements will start injecting substitute into my bloodstream if I lose more than a quart of blood, Morty,” he says in a low, deadly voice. Morty hears the edge of a wheeze in it. “A quaAAAUGhrt. Do you know how much that is? You fucking, you fucking numbskull braindead idiot?”

“No?”

“That’s what I— that’s what I thought,” Rick says, getting unsteadily to his feet with the help of the couch arm. “I’ll be in the garage. Don’t follow me.” 

Morty watches as his grandpa woozily makes his way out of the living room. He’s actually a little worried Rick’s going to pass out, or crash into something, but he doesn’t. He’s gone. Morty rubs the back of his hand across his mouth, and when he looks at it in the TV’s half-light, it’s smeared dark with Rick’s blood.

“S-sorry,” he says, late. 

–

Morty climbs upstairs to his room even though it’s more like roleplaying someone that needs to sleep than an actual need. He lays down on top of his covers next to his closet that’s now full of hats and sunglasses and UV-protective long sleeve shirts, above a kitchen filled with food he can’t eat, and a hallway mirror he can no longer see his own reflection in. 

He lays there quietly and waits, full-stomached, giving Rick a little privacy. Some time to cool off. If Rick noticed Morty’s hardon, he didn’t comment on it. 

But Morty had seen where Rick’s blood went, while he was feeding. 

He could sense it, the thick coursing of it, even in the dark.

[beevean]

We've already talked about how Nocturne treats bread like a perfectly affordable food despite the historical setting, but how about the fact that it's literally wasted?

When Richter is dozing off having a nightmare about his mother's death Maria wakes him up by throwing a loaf of bread at his face. In the last episode, when the crowd boos the cast they sometimes throw stuff at them, including bread!

man don't you hate when your sis throws caviar at your face to wake you up

I know this sounds like a nitpick, but "the French Revolution was sparked by the unaffordable prices of bread" is something you learn in middle school. We watched documentaries over it. It's in children's books even! It's a very easy trivia to remember!

You make the effort to hire African writers to properly represent Annette's religion, but somehow you, European head writer, miss the absolute basics of the very setting you chose to represent? Talk about priorities.

Don't bother, at this point. Stick with your simple story. Or, at the very least, don't advertise the show as this amazing fiction set in a very complicated, influencial time period. Maybe there's a reason the CV games stayed away from such topics and focused on the characters, hm?

[not-goldy]

No matter what Jk does some ppl will. never. be satisfied. They will always twist what he says, what he does, especially when it comes to Jimin. It will never be enough. Like, he could literally kiss him on cam they’d still say he wasn’t into it, didn’t French kiss him but just gave him a quick peck or whatever so it means he was just doing the bare minimum blah blah blah. They could even fuck for the whole world to see they’d manage to scrutinize his thrusts and the number of sweat drops falling down his back to say he was just doing it out of curtosy lmao. If Jk and Jikook don't satisfy you why keeping up with him? Seriously, why do ppl are so keen to waste their time like this if they don’t enjoy the content they’re engaging with? 2024 is right around the corner y’all, time to check your priorities… life is short, donˋt waste it. As for me, I'm so relieved these two will have each other for the next 18 months! I can't wait for the Jikook Show, it’s going to be epic, I don’t think we’re ready lmao

Forget them, they just trolling 🤣 🤣🤣🤣🤣

This what they sent in 😹😹😹😹😹😹😹😹

The jealousy and envy disguised as criticism.

They are just like Tuktukkers. They deliberately act blind and dumb and belittle JK's efforts and contributions so it's easier for them to hate on him.

"Jk couldn't attend Face promos" said with a dumb smug face in the same sentence as "just because he sings all JMs songs on his live- to promote his music to his unique fans, boost his reach, generate sales from the free ad and marketing- doesn't mean he supports him."

Naaa he should have sent a coffee truck that makes JM no money, sent food and flowers- that makes JM no money in sales for his Album whatsoever- That would have been so much better if he wanted to support JMs Album than him actually promoting his songs on live

Same people who complain Army doesn't buy Jms songs or stream his music. Same persons.

Jungkook is a sold out King and people will die to have him promote their content on his highly engaging lives- but nooooo that's not an asset to them when it comes to supporting Jm. Nope.

Even though he's shown time and again that's his way of supporting those he loves. His brother starts a business and he jumps right on live wearing his merch. Did he not get in trouble for that?

Jimin does a documentary and who shows up out of the blue to support him? Mic'd and all

Jimin is practicing for his MV and who shows up to watch and support him then too?

They call Jimin daddy but won't get off JKs Dick.

Hobi is adorable and we all want a sunshine like him- but he's so supportive Jimin chose Jungkook to do MS with 🥺

Talk of being there for Jimin🤭

And it's crazy they keep craving what others have when those others also want what Jungkook is and does for Jimin. You think Tuktukkers would be superimposing Taes face on Jikook moments if they were happy with Tuktukks dynamics?

Flowers and food- when we all know who is constantly eating with Jimin, pressuring Jimin to go out and eat with him, the one who BTS themselves call Jimin's chef,

the one doing cooking shows with him is not Hobi

It's almost as if they don't watch any content from BTS other than snippets from Twitter.

Watch Sope, Bon Voyage, Run, Episodes, lives- in full not the edits sir.

We here have a whole Ramen joke running in the Fandom because that's all JK keeps saying he eats with JM. The food buddies. Whenever Jungkook posts food you'd find JM in the comments somewhere reminiscing.

Those flowers and food gave him strength- bitch bye.

When it comes to gift giving, bts have ever complained the one person Jungkook gifts is Jimin prompting them to tease him that Jimin was his favorite out of the group.

Nevermind the snow block he went out to the mountains and brought back for him. We know in this Fandom Jungkook tones things down with Jimin when it comes onto gifts cos he'd kiss and tell and act a fool. It's common Fandom knowledge so I know he is not trying to imply Jungkook does nothing for JM.

That's toxic solo street slang rooted in fiction.

Watch content for yourself and spare us the rubbish.

[colorfuldonutrunaway]

I made a character sheet for one of my ocs. Took a lot of bravery to do it, but I made it.🥲 I wasn't sure how to handle the two boxes under the main picture, and I should add that this character is AroAce.🏳️‍🌈

Metrics explained here:

*Name: Peter Romanov was named purely by his mother. I would go into detail about how his patronymic works but I'm not very sure on how it works in Russian culture, so I'll keep my mouth shut. Anyways, Roman prefers to be called, well, Roman because he despises his first name for some reason.

*Nicknames: If you want to avoid a death glare, call him by Roman or Wolf.

*Race/Species: Before he became the Wolf, he was a first-generation Russian American human. After getting diagnosed with a supposedly rare fatal muscle wasting disease, he secretly began injecting himself with wolf DNA on the genetic level. This was actually working really well...until an assistant startled him during one such procedure and he injected a massive amount into his cells...and mutated into his current state. The unstable state of his cells means that every 5 days, he turns back into a human, and after five days again, he returns to the Wolf, rinse and repeat.

*Age: 30 as of 2024, being born in 1993 after his parents left Russia for the Americas.

*Gender: Born Male, identifies as such.

*Alignment: Wanting to follow the pursuit of knowledge and science for the betterment of mankind, Roman ignores the fact that he was stripped of his license to run a laboratory (after the genetics incident) and continues operating to create new inventions. Problem is, he can't patent them under his own name...

*Class/Job: As stated above, Roman shouldn't be operating a laboratory. He was banned from the high council of intellectuals and was forbidden from ever using their tools to create or invent again. That hasn't stopped him from creating a laboratory from materials gathered on the black market, hiring minions from criminal origins, and operating secretly underneath a normal Pennsylvanian town as a scientist.

*Perception and Communication: He takes advantage of his improved wolf senses to observe every detail around himself. As for communication, he's a great orator and debater, but he can get frustrated if people don't understand his high tech jargon.

*Persuasion and Mediation: He listens well and can use it to his advantage when trying to persuade someone into doing something for him and when mediating an issue between two groups. He's not the best at it, but he's good enough for most scenarios.

*Literacy and Creativity: Raised by a genius mother who noticed that her child's intellect was increasing at an abnormally fast pace, she opted to guarantee that his childhood was to be surrounded by folklore, documentaries, and educational materials. This led to a man that could be omnidisciplinary in Engineering, Robotics, programming (Python/HTML/C++), Physics, Chemistry, Biology, Genetics, mathematics, and neurology. Not surprising for an IQ that reached 300 at 16 years old. (he refuses to do actual medicine though.) He also grew up speaking English and Russian at home.

*Cooking: He can bake, but actually making original meals is kinda hard for him. Especially as the Wolf, because it's led to him just settling for any food with meat in it, even if it's raw.

*Tech Savvy: From as young as 4 years old, he was fixing phones and taking apart cars.

*Combat: Roman took martial arts classes at 16, but rarely uses what he's learned. Especially after becoming the Wolf, because now he has boosted strength that allows him to easily knock out people with a punch or throw them. Not very good with guns either.

*Survival: He learned basic survival skills from the numerous books he's read, but has never really exercised it or gone camping to hone it. As the Wolf, he does have some natural instincts that help.

*Stealth: Ugh. He's never had a reason to be stealthy as a human. This worsened when he turned into a hybrid, because his clunky, furry body is harder to hide. Being 6 ft 7 inches in Wolf form doesn't help.

*Street smarts: Roman has never known a normal childhood due to his rapidly increasing intelligence netting him media attention and breezing him through school. Therefore, he's never been able to make friends with kids his age, and his overprotective parents kept him from exploring the world, leading to his street smarts being shockingly low.

*Seduction: No...just...no.

*Luck: Not anymore or less lucky than a normal person.

*Handling Animals: When in Wolf form, it's very difficult to handle animals without them freaking out on him. In human form? Animals love him.

*Pacifying Children: He's good at distracting kids with a story or a piece of candy, but his stronger senses mean that a child crying is painful to listen to.

*Strength: Probably due to his wasting disease, he's weaker in human form, (as in, weaker than the average human), but notoriously strong as a Wolf.

*Dexterity: Pretty average. Struggles in Wolf form due to not being used to the big furry paws.

*Health: As mentioned before, weak in human form, strong and vibrant in Wolf-man form.

*Energy: Usually in the middle.

*Beauty: Considered handsome in human form. Considered cute fluffy doggo in Wolf form.

*Style: While he's usually in a lab coat, whenever he ventures into the town, he's wearing designer clothes that fit his Wolf form well.

*Hygiene: So for some reason, Wolf still has human lymph nodes in the usual spots, meaning that he also sweats from those areas. So he has to shower daily or else he develops a pretty wild smell.

*Intelligence: From the age of 2, Roman's brain suddenly developed at an insanely fast speed. Nobody knows why this happened exactly, but they had no choice to accept it as Roman began to pass classes flawlessly, finish entire novels in hours, and do complex equations by himself. He's graduated highschool by the age of 12 and helped teach college classes at the age of 15.

*Happiness: Despite his current situation, he's really good at seeing the bright side of things. Roman actually enjoys being in his Wolf form, and feels more free now that the council isn't constantly watching over his back.

*Spirituality: Raised Christian, Roman became agnostic around his pre-teens, and had stayed that way since.

*Confidence: He's very confident in his skills, but not to the point where he thinks he's infallible.

*Humor: His humor tends to vary greatly. While he doesn't make jokes himself, he does find other people's jokes and references entertaining.

*Anxiety: Like with the Happiness stat, Roman doesn't let much get to him. His Wolf affliction actually saved his life, as it stopped and partially reversed the progression of the wasting disease, leading him to be relatively positive.

*Patience: He's learned to be patient with the average person since they can't make hundreds of calculations a minute in their brain like he can, though it does have limits if he can tell if someone is intentionally trying to be an obstacle in his mission.

*Passion: Developing his love for science from his mother, Roman wants a world that is as free from suffering as humanly possible, and he will invent and create as much as he can.

*Charisma: While he gives off a cool and professional aura, his social development was still stunted by his strange childhood.

*Empathy: He can feel like other people, but he sometimes thinks that other people blow things out of proportion, or can solve their problems more easily than they think.

*Generosity: Gives to those that severely need it, doesn't give to much of anyone else.

*Wealth: How does Roman fund a laboratory and a couple dozen minions? Hacking banks obviously. He's good enough that the possibility of police discovering that it's him doing it is so unlikely it's insane, and he usually steals enough that it can pay the bills and all of his minions while still having some left over for leisurely pursuits.

*Aggression: He can be fierce when he needs to be, but prefers giving off a stoic energy usually.

*Libido: Never had much of one at all. Being aromantic asexual helps in making sure that this isn't ever an issue he needs to care about anyway.

I'll add more later, but I'm tired and it's getting late.

[crying-fantasies]

Hold (on to my heart)

Masterlist

CW: blood, murder, curses, hate, power abuse.

Nights in the caves are, really, something else, specially since Martha's garden finally gave something edible.

It's nice, to eat something warm and fresh after so long, canned food and such can only get one so far without feeling sick in mind and body, and don't even get started with the face of absolute horror some bots did after reading what was inside or, worse, what kept the corn in a barely decent consumption state.

It's nice to eat without someone burning their eyes on your back, calling you names.

Martha's corn is little, not really sweet, and mayonnaise or butter could make it more delicious, but everyone eats it to the last grain, part of it has already been stored, the fire where everyone gathered around is, maybe, a beacon of hope, just what everyone needs since Optimus left, and you catch a glimpse of mister Sawyer drying a lonely tear when he looks at a stone at the side.

Ironhide's stone, one he used like a chair.

That was where Ironhide used to come and talk, hell, the bots used to come here with you all, Tommy said maybe it was like looking at a wildlife documentary, but you and the rest have a different approach to it, giving an almost absolute vote of it being because they feel lonely, they feel hunger, they feel cold.

There is so much that can be done in the dessert, or any part the autobots go and so you all do, if you search well enough it isn't that hard to find edible cactuses or other things, with the usual trial and error in between, of course.

Ironhide was the first to tell Optimus to get all the humans back to where they came from, but he was also the first one to take a boulder out of the way to make this campfire site and use the rock as a makeshift chair, at first it looked like he was trying to put you all in one place and Sideswipe almost punched him in the faceplate, but he was also the responsible to moving the hard soil with Hound and Beachcomber so that Martha could grow food, the only one that knew how to live from the earth and not by ready-to-food like the rest of you.

"It's easier for humans to do it, since it's their planet", he said, "at least then we won't bother findin' fuel for them", Sides was ready to let him know his opinion but he was stopped since what the old bot gave you, in reality, was something even better than canned food left to waste.

It's not simple, to follow the autobots, to evade the government, to try and get a hold of whatever that could be usable, you still remember Val and how she found something alien and bring it back, the few energon that thing had was enough to add another two days for everyone, Rosalinde, almost two, could only smile by her sister's enthusiastic face.

It was never easy, when Hoist, relieved for the finding, patted Val's head with utmost delicacy, "You did great", the little girl looked like she won the lottery, very much in contrast to her crying once a military man found your group while looking for rations, Val went far away in the former warzone to find another vial of energon, finding the man in her way and all his group, holding her and telling the little orphan with baseless promises of finding her family with the help of whoever was in power, that he saved her of the horrible aliens as all you could do was move again because they couldn't find the autobots, "humans know what a new human spark would need", that's what Optimus said, and it was what Ratchet repeated to Hoist once he found out to calm him down, Bumblebee was totally against to give Rosa to the people on the near town to care for her, and you all promised to tend to her every need to prevent her from going to fall in their hands, Optimus meant well, you all knew, as all you could give Rosa and Val was the least spoiled food.

"Do he sees us as pets or what?"

"Quiet, kid! Do I need to remind you who saved your ass in the warzone?"

"Well then, I can return to the god-damned civilization because I'm not in debt with the ones that got the war here!"

Most people just go, at the beginning, just like Jimmy, Verity and Hunter, sometimes they stay, just like you, but staying also means to have your face among the most wanted due to "fraternizing with the alien enemy".

But returning would end in indefinite imprisonment, or a very bad interrogation that could turn south very easily, because no one knew of Javier once he got to the nearest town, but you all found him in the wastelands while searching for more supplies, his body, at least, full of bruises and in a terrible state, like he was tortured.

Mr. Duncan called it "a stupid robot hunt to keep the people happy in their madness to vote for them again", Susana said:" Just people showing off, they need some war in order to fill their pockets".

You can only hope Val has something to eat, someone to care, things were hard, as you see your chemically burned fingertips, no more gloves meant direct contact in occasions, Ratchet and Hoist sometimes can't with all the injured, so far the only helping hands they have are you and Mr. Duncan who was a mechanic before the war and before being totally wiped after seeing Optimus Prime himself help him to get out of some debris, transforming in front of him while saving him, they are great, they really are, but alien medicine can only get you so far before you touch real energon, the one running in their lines like blood does in your veins, and getting burned isn't that hard with your hands stopping the leaking in Track's side as Hoist tries to make him see that his wound matters more than his finish.

Sideswipe, ever the gentlemech, came to your rescue when your tearful eyes weren't that easy to hide from him, biting back the sobs and just silently taking it all, maybe that being the reason why his already volatile temper just got to a new level, "I'm going to show that slagger something to whine over", he was furious, not at you, but in what you were getting into, in how you were hiding it even from him.

"It's okay", you said, red eyes and patched fingers, bloody nose and sore throat, low on fluids due to the energon poisoning, "it's okay, I can keep going".

But you can't, not anymore, not because of Sides but because this new bot called Ultra Magnus was sure to keep their law to the T, and Ratchet couldn't do much about it, "it's unprecedented to let an organic know about our general physiology".

"Magnus, I don't have any more help here, and you're shortening it even more?"

"The law must be followed, Ratchet, and we shouldn't have so many injured if our soldiers were able to hold into the designated procedures for those cases".

Everyone have their own reasons to be here, some willing and others not, some do what they can while others just can't anymore, but all in unison rise their cheap plastic cups high and full of homemade alcohol that is sure to burn your liver alive, chanting a "for the ones we lost" before downing it at once, your corn is about to return from your stomach and Mr. Sawyer finally breaks down, crying in his daughter's arms inconsolably.

Men don't cry, you heard once, and it's stupid, maybe real men, the ones that matter, really do cry and bleed.

And maybe is not only about men crying, but showing grief and emotion as a whole, as you remember someone say: "just don't think about it and the pain will go away", or "just think you feel okay and you'll be", it was easier to say than to really do, and even if you did it didn't really change anything.

Maybe the most strong really show what is troubling them, and try to understand it.

Maybe that's why you find yourself walking again to the part of the base Sideswipe has taken for himself, he is just there, sitting, low on energon and spirits since Ironhide's frame was taken back by Ratchet, he looks just like when Sunstreaker-

"Do you hate it?"

At first, you don't know what he is referring to, is it the constant hunger? The scorching sunlight in the day and the cold moonless nights? Being hunted down by your own people? Your own race? There is so much to pick from, but he may only refer to one of them? With a lack of response he makes that sad face again, in the past he did it, as sad as ever or physically possible for him just to joke around, took you a while to notice his playful nature and how to respond to it, but you would give so much to see that kind of expression back to him only as a joke and not the real one in front of you.

"Hate is a strong word".

Since Bumblebee made the deal with the humans, with that guy called Spike, things have been better, but feeling the soldiers' hard gazes have made you all return to the caves from time to time, the last familiar place, the last place where you all saw so many before probably losing them forever.

Val is still missing, no one could track her or what they did with her after they took her away.

Ricardo decided to sell out the bots and play the victim in the news, whining and complaining about being a victim, trying to sell a book of his survival when he wouldn't even be alive if not for Beachcomber saving him from an explosive.

Lucas, Paula and Jocelyn died when those crazy fucks corraled the bots and they tried to stop them like a shield, believing they wouldn't shut them down.

Mr. Sawyer still can't keep a few bites of food down after Ironhide died, his depression hitting another level, or so Miranda, his daughter, said, when his friend returned like a carcass with a hole blasted right through his spark, his heart.

The cries of everyone when Bumblebee, one of the most kind and attentive autobots, one of the better living beings you have ever met, returned with smoke emanating from his body, closed and dead optics, energon spilling from the wound on his chest, as Mr. Sawyer's cries of "not again, please" made more echo in all the people crying, the few people that were still keeping it together before things just escalated more.

The feeling of being burned alive as your fingers put pressure to the many ruptures in the lines, hearing Mr. Duncan curse as his own hands weren't enough to stop the leaking and welding at the same time, being instructed by the supposed scientist and doctor that was in charge to keep Bumblebee alive by just pouring energon inside and letting you two do all the risky job.

Sideswipe's response to your "I hate it" isn't one of surprise, if anything, he is waiting for you to elaborate, "I hate them so much!".

His reaction to your answer brings up the necessity to shut your mouth, but the lock has been molested, and there is just so much you can do once bitting your tongue isn't enough, not even his sad smile, his relief at you finally letting go of what has been eating you from inside out, the low light of his optics on you, blue light that makes your tears shine like tiny sparks embers that fall ominously, like hatred and vengeance that are never to meet an end, the rage of a warrior encased in such tiny frame that does everything in it's power to heal even when there is a gaping black hole in the middle.

His reaction to your tears, to your hysteria, the ones you had to fight back, is nothing but understanding, and he doesn't even flinch when the poison and resentment follow and take control.

"I wish they end up dying there!", you remember their faces, their words full of hatred, you'll never forget them as you all shouted back in how the autobots weren't the ones to get the war to the planet, it was the decepticons who started it, it was the humans who kept at it.

They hated so much, without a base, without a reason, putting all of them in the same group, and were the first ones to shout indignantly once Jazz protected everyone.

"I wish everyone they are related to die too! Stupid genes should just disappear! Their parents! Their kids! It's all rotten!"

You will never forget their faces as they shut down Lucas, just because he was trying to speak with reason, "STOP! Stop! He is injured! Please stop!", Paula got to close for comfort too, apparently, as she was trying to call Spike for help, but someone, a sick fucko, believed her phone was a gun and killed her too with Jocelyn who was only promising the already on edge autobots that everything was going to be alright before her blood was flying in their direction.

"I want them to disappear"

Once your hatred is placating, finally being able to let yourself say all the bad things that have been bottled down for so long, your sadness takes over, and Sideswipe offers his servo to cradle you near as your tears and sobs aren't stopping, increasing to the point breathing is hard and you're almost choking back cries and shouts, holding for dear life to him, your screwed nails digging on the crevices of his faceplate and neck guard as he holds your body with both servos to that tiny and warm place in the junction of his helm and his neck guard.

A safe place, where his body overlaps yours, his engine and the power on it a silent promise that he is strong enough to fight for you both, increasing with your cries and the goosebumps, an answer to his EM field, telling you "I'm here, I'll protect you", your physical reaction, your way to show him "I feel you, I know" when his digits pass over your skin so delicately.

It was a trial and error these years, laughing hard when his anger made your hair stand up, give comfort when you didn't feel much, feeling overwhelmed and all little hair up when he was playful and happy.

Feeling out of your body when he was trying to comfort you.

"I want this to end"

"I miss them so much"

"If I ever know who made that gun!"

"Please don't leave me too"

"I want them in pieces!"

"Don't ever let me go"

Next thing you knew, Sideswipe was trying to wake you up, saying something about a "I'll see you later" that was barely registered as your eyes were too swollen to see him right, the coldness in the base is too strong and makes you hold the blanket he left above you, is it late? Why is he saying that? When did you fall sleep and when did he let go of you? You can barely think straight, the alcohol doing an inside mess, Sideswipe holding you near again, the best you both could do for a hug, you could only do so much with your head all foggy and painful as he left you to rest, that sensation of vibration as you're swallowed inside his EM field again, nuzzled by his faceplate, the light of his optics showering you, barely alert to give back the hug, holding to his olfactory ridge and making him chuckle, smiling back, hearing him happy after so long, if only for a minute, feeling him gone the next and holding the blanket close, preserve his digits' feeling above you, his warmth enclosed in that blanket for as long as it could be.

Hours later, and the next thing you know is that most autobots are gone, everyone is sitting in the dinner salon of the Skywatch's base, watching the news, your relief of Bumblebee once again on his feet is washed away once someone tell you that Sideswipe left with Optimus to Cybertron.

One hour later, and you're left to question yourself what comes next, holding the blanket to your body, and realizing that it's the vicuna one you bought, and that Sideswipe left the paper crane you gifted him years ago just next to your sleeping body, as you ask yourself what you could have said in your intoxicated pain that made that hot head take his few things and go to a barren and deadly planet once again, trying to comfort yourself that it wasn't caused by something you said.

But that monster in your head says otherwise, telling you that if you lost Sideswipe too was because you showed your pain and grief, everything is your fault.

It's all your fault, and Sideswipe will never come back, either by being shot where you can't help him or by finally realizing you aren't that different from other humans.

"Humans are all the same", Sunstreaker once said when he tried to brush you off, and maybe he was right about you.

Do you even recognize who you're now?

[callivich]

Mickey and Ian are celebrating Pride by:

Buying rainbow cupcakes from their local bakery which Mickey proceeds to eat most of (it’s not his fault they’re so delicious)

Wearing colourful clothes (which in Mickey’s case may or may not be stolen from the communal laundry)

Listening to Pride-themed playlists (curated by Ian who may or may not sing and dance to every song)

Watching fun movies and tv shows (they tried watching a serious documentary but it got too heavy so it’s fun stuff only)

Going to a local bar for a special Pride cocktail night (and getting wasted and flirty and kissing a lot)

Accidentally sending some kissing selfies to the family group chat

Trying to make their own rainbow cocktails and food (some of it is fine, some is a mess but they have fun and try it anyway - they have a lot of fun with rainbow icing)

Ian buys some rainbow string lights and hangs them over their bed (they like them so much they keep them there year round)

What else do you think they do?

[solarpunkbusiness]

Vale Encantado’s sanitation problems have become a central issue for the Vale Encantado Cooperative, an organization created in 2007 in an effort to generate employment and income for local residents. Sustainable tourism-related activities offered by the Cooperative were threatened by the contamination in the water and forest.

Otávio Barros, president of the Cooperative and of the Residents’ Association, began researching alternative ways to treat the community’s waste and sewage. As a result of Barros’ search, Vale Encantado’s first biodigester was installed in 2014 to serve the Cooperative’s restaurant.

Biodigesters function as large containers where the organic material deposited is consumed by bacteria. The process generates at least three byproducts: biogas, liquid biofertilizer and fertilizer.

The first biodigester installed for the Cooperative’s restaurant operates using food waste to supply biogas to the Cooperative’s kitchen.

The second biodigester, built in 2015, integrates a biosystem to treat sewage, and depends in part on a root zone filter. Although it was designed to serve all 28 houses, so far only five homes in Vale Encantado have had their sewage channeled into this biodigester, which is already able to produce biogas to meet the energy demands of one family.

This English subtitled documentary is the latest contribution to the series on energy justice and efficiency in Rio’s favelas. About the artist: Illustrator Yara Santos is a student of generalist design at the University of São Paulo (USP). Born and raised in the periphery of São Paulo, she seeks to represent elements of the black and peripheral culture in which she is inserted into her art. Most of her production is centered on digital techniques.

[x-v0id-x]

Can you tell us some fun facts about your OCs? ( ˙▿˙ ) Like their favorite foods, colors, movies, ETC? Are they early birds or night owls?

OF COURSE!! (●´ω｀●)

<3 When it comes to sleep, Kaito gets no sleep. He tends to have the worst nightmares and hates how much time he wastes sleeping when he could be watching over you >< Because of this he usually stays up late into the night and tries to pull all nighters until he passes out ^^;

<3 Kaito enjoys the color purple or yellow, he loves steak, rice, and sweets!! He’s a very good baker, oftentimes he’ll make sweets for his darling and leaves them somewhere they’ll find them. For example, their work desk, or if they go to college on the usual spot they sit at in class! Or just their dorm :3 Kai is typically into apocalyptic movies/shows, but also watches a ton of crime documentaries. But he’d also watch anything his darling does, just to get a feel for what they like ^^ Though funnily enough Kai’s never seen disney movies before and if he saw one, he’d genuinely get hooked. (>‿◠)✌

<3 However, Milo does value their sleep significantly. Because of this they go to bed at somewhat reasonable times but always get up bright and early! They always want to get a head start on the day so they can go steal away all your time before someone else can. ( > ‿‿ < )

<3 Milo (obviously) loves the color pink, or any pastels really. They like softer foods, like cheesecake! But they’re very picky about what they eat so they can maintain their figure. When it comes to any kind of fiction, they actually love fairytales!! They always dreamed to live in one, and any romantic movie or show they watch they can’t help but imagine it was them and their darling instead (っ > ﹏ < )っOne day you two will be like that, right?

<3 Some extra stuff! Kaito’s always cold. You could touch his hand in the middle of a bright summer day and he’ll feel freezing, which might make cuddling better in warmer temperatures ≧ ' ▿ ' ≦ His typical love languages are gift giving, physical touch (only in private xxx), and acts of service :3

<3 For Milo, they’d actually love to wear matching outfits with their darling, matching jewelry would also make them practically jump for joy \( ~ ▿ ° )/ Their love languages are physical touch, quality time, and words of affirmation!!

[benggar]

Saving Mother Earth: It's Not Too Late To Make Difference

It is interesting to note that the average global temperature of the Earth rose by 1 degree Celsius during the last hundred years or so, since the late 19th century. Such a slight change has wrought havoc on our planet.

Urgency of the environmental crisis, is an emergency state around the world that calls for urgent collective action. Among them major threats our earth and future generations face include climate change, deforestation, pollution, and loss of biodiversity.. If no action is undertaken, these will lead to extreme weather occurrences, food shortages, displacement, and even extinction.We'll make this world come together to face all these challenges. We can get this done by using sustainable practices, investment in clean energy, and defending policies which look towards the protection of our surroundings and will build upon a more resilient and sustainable future for everyone.

TECH FOR A GREENER FUTURE

Technology can help protect the nature. It does in several ways. Including:

*Production of renewable sources: Solar, wind, and hydro power.

*Waste reduction: Recycling and composting.

*Environmental monitoring: Satellites and drones.

*Increased productivity in agriculture: Precision farming and biotechnology.

*Cities going green: Smart grids and energy-efficient buildings.

INDIVIDUAL ACTION CAN MAKE DIFFERENCE

Small steps, big impact.

* Reduce, reuse, recycle.

* Conserve energy and water.

* Choose sustainable products.

* Support local businesses.

* Walk, bike, or take public transport.

* Eat less meat.

* Plant trees.

* Educate others.

* Get involved.

What are you doing to make a difference? Share your tips in the comments below!

THE POWER OF CELLECTIVE ACTION

Joinging Forces for a Greener Planet

Together, we can do something. By working together, we can seek out a more sustainable future for everyone-for we share a planet and face common environmental challenges.

RESOURCES AND FURTHER INFORMATIONS

Websites and Organizations:

* World Wildlife Fund (WWF): https://www.worldwildlife.org/

* Greenpeace: https://www.greenpeace.org/international/

* The Nature Conservancy: https://www.nature.org/en-us/

* Sierra Club: https://www.sierraclub.org/

* Environmental Protection Agency (EPA): https://www.epa.gov/

* National Geographic: https://www.nationalgeographic.com/

* National Audubon Society: https://www.audubon.org/

Social Media:

* Follow environmental organizations, activists, and influencers on platforms like Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.

* Join online communities and forums dedicated to environmental issues.

Local Initiatives:

* Community Gardens: Participate in local gardening projects to promote sustainable food production and green spaces.

* Volunteer Organizations: Join local environmental groups to contribute to conservation efforts in your area.

* Government Initiatives: Get involved in local government initiatives related to environmental protection and sustainability.

Educational Resources:

* Online Courses: Explore online courses and certifications in environmental studies, sustainability, and conservation.

* Documentaries: Watch documentaries that raise awareness about environmental issues and inspire action.

* Podcasts: Listen to podcasts featuring interviews with environmental experts and activists.By exploring these resources, you can deepen your understanding of environmental challenges and find ways to contribute to a more sustainable future.

* https://gbes.com/green-building-matters-podcast/first-leed-ap-and-later-leed-fellow-real-estate-broker-sally-wilson/