#the system would have sold even better

[girl4music]

Got my pre-order in for ‘The Legend Of Zelda: Tears Of The Kingdom’ along with the limited edition OLED Nintendo Switch. I wanted the carrying case and the switch pro controller as well but apparently that comes out a little later with the game. I can understand them not putting that out for pre-order yet. I’ll get it eventually. Needed an update on my Nintendo Switch anyway. I have the old model. I’ll probably only ever use it to play Zelda games though.

I’ve been anticipating this game for a long time. I can’t actually believe it’s finally available in a month. ‘Breath Of The Wild’ was a Zelda experience like no other. Literally a breath of fresh air for the series and I’m so happy I’ll be returning to it through the sequel.

Who’s excited for this game? Get your pre-orders in!

[lightdancer1]

Unfortunately the article's claim that slavery was peripheral to African states has the problem that the abolition of the trade brought Dahomey, Benin, and the Sokoto Caliphate to near economic disintegration:

This article in turn is a good case of decolonization historiography as applied to the Kingdom of Dahomey. While I consider the claim that 'slavery was peripheral to the economies of African states' to be special pleading given the abolition of the slave trade brought Dahomey, Benin, and the Sokoto Caliphate to major weakness that made the conquests in the Scramble a matter of marching and the butcher and burn approach, it does make the point that to understand the decisions of African rulers the focus needs to be on African, not European, understandings of what their goals were.

It might be more easily noted that the African states did not see the dangers in mortgaging so much of their liquid wealth in the forms of slavery and doing little to build up anything more diverse.....but that should be equally put into the context that the European states only saw this *after* the era of mercantilism and the start of capitalism made it clear that a mono-focused economy is a glass dome waiting a good hit from a sledgehammer. The conditions furthering this shift did not apply to Dahomey, which made its bones and its money by exploiting the slave trade in its classical system and in the pattern most familiarly known to modern eyes.

Namely its soldiers, including the Ahosi, rampaged in the interior of Africa dragging poor sorry saps who couldn't run away fast enough by those human chains to ports and avoiding anything done to their *own* people with Oyo a particular favorite of their raids. It is a not entirely dissimilar result to Bolivarianism in Venezuela mortgaging the economy solely to oil....and then OPEC pushed oil prices off a roof and took the Venezuelan economy with it.

Judging Dahomey by its own standards likewise means recognizing that an autocratic society has all the usual brittleness of autocratic societies, including the endemic risks of military putsches that tended to be key parts in how Europeans finally brought African states over the brink of collapse. When the slave trade would implode in the 1830s the prosperity of Dahomey started to creak with it. 50 years later when European power returned with a deadly vengeance it was not strong states they faced outside of cases like Ethiopia or Kanem-Bornu where the slave trades in Western and Central and Eastern Africa were at their height, it was brittle ones devastated by the loss of much of their mobile capital and the ability to replenish supplies of gunpowder and firearms.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kickstarting a book to end enshittification, because Amazon will not carry it

My next book is The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation: it’s a Big Tech disassembly manual that explains how to disenshittify the web and bring back the old good internet. The hardcover comes from Verso on Sept 5, but the audiobook comes from me — because Amazon refuses to sell my audio:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

Amazon owns Audible, the monopoly audiobook platform that controls >90% of the audio market. They require mandatory DRM for every book sold, locking those books forever to Amazon’s monopoly platform. If you break up with Amazon, you have to throw away your entire audiobook library.

That’s a hell of a lot of leverage to hand to any company, let alone a rapacious monopoly that ran a program targeting small publishers called “Project Gazelle,” where execs were ordered to attack indie publishers “the way a cheetah would pursue a sickly gazelle”:

https://www.businessinsider.com/sadistic-amazon-treated-book-sellers-the-way-a-cheetah-would-pursue-a-sickly-gazelle-2013-10

[Image ID: Journalist and novelist Doctorow (Red Team Blues) details a plan for how to break up Big Tech in this impassioned and perceptive manifesto….Doctorow’s sense of urgency is contagious -Publishers Weekly]

I won’t sell my work with DRM, because DRM is key to the enshittification of the internet. Enshittification is why the old, good internet died and became “five giant websites filled with screenshots of the other four” (h/t Tom Eastman). When a tech company can lock in its users and suppliers, it can drain value from both sides, using DRM and other lock-in gimmicks to keep their business even as they grow ever more miserable on the platform.

Here is how platforms die: first, they are good to their users; then they abuse their users to make things better for their business customers; finally, they abuse those business customers to claw back all the value for themselves. Then, they die:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/01/21/potemkin-ai/#hey-guys

[Image ID: A brilliant barn burner of a book. Cory is one of the sharpest tech critics, and he shows with fierce clarity how our computational future could be otherwise -Kate Crawford, author of The Atlas of AI”]

The Internet Con isn’t just an analysis of where enshittification comes from: it’s a detailed, shovel-ready policy prescription for halting enshittification, throwing it into reverse and bringing back the old, good internet.

How do we do that? With interoperability: the ability to plug new technology into those crapulent, decaying platform. Interop lets you choose which parts of the service you want and block the parts you don’t (think of how an adblocker lets you take the take-it-or-leave “offer” from a website and reply with “How about nah?”):

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/07/adblocking-how-about-nah

But interop isn’t just about making platforms less terrible — it’s an explosive charge that demolishes walled gardens. With interop, you can leave a social media service, but keep talking to the people who stay. With interop, you can leave your mobile platform, but bring your apps and media with you to a rival’s service. With interop, you can break up with Amazon, and still keep your audiobooks.

So, if interop is so great, why isn’t it everywhere?

Well, it used to be. Interop is how Microsoft became the dominant operating system:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

[Image ID: Nobody gets the internet-both the nuts and bolts that make it hum and the laws that shaped it into the mess it is-quite like Cory, and no one’s better qualified to deliver us a user manual for fixing it. That’s The Internet Con: a rousing, imaginative, and accessible treatise for correcting our curdled online world. If you care about the internet, get ready to dedicate yourself to making interoperability a reality. -Brian Merchant, author of Blood in the Machine]

It’s how Apple saved itself from Microsoft’s vicious campaign to destroy it:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/06/adversarial-interoperability-reviving-elegant-weapon-more-civilized-age-slay

Every tech giant used interop to grow, and then every tech giant promptly turned around and attacked interoperators. Every pirate wants to be an admiral. When Big Tech did it, that was progress; when you do it back to Big Tech, that’s piracy. The tech giants used their monopoly power to make interop without permission illegal, creating a kind of “felony contempt of business model” (h/t Jay Freeman).

The Internet Con describes how this came to pass, but, more importantly, it tells us how to fix it. It lays out how we can combine different kinds of interop requirements (like the EU’s Digital Markets Act and Massachusetts’s Right to Repair law) with protections for reverse-engineering and other guerrilla tactics to create a system that is strong without being brittle, hard to cheat on and easy to enforce.

What’s more, this book explains how to get these policies: what existing legislative, regulatory and judicial powers can be invoked to make them a reality. Because we are living through the Great Enshittification, and crises erupt every ten seconds, and when those crises occur, the “good ideas lying around” can move from the fringes to the center in an eyeblink:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/06/12/only-a-crisis/#lets-gooooo

[Image ID: Thoughtfully written and patiently presented, The Internet Con explains how the promise of a free and open internet was lost to predatory business practices and the rush to commodify every aspect of our lives. An essential read for anyone that wants to understand how we lost control of our digital spaces and infrastructure to Silicon Valley’s tech giants, and how we can start fighting to get it back. -Tim Maughan, author of INFINITE DETAIL]

After all, we’ve known Big Tech was rotten for years, but we had no idea what to do about it. Every time a Big Tech colossus did something ghastly to millions or billions of people, we tried to fix the tech company. There’s no fixing the tech companies. They need to burn. The way to make users safe from Big Tech predators isn’t to make those predators behave better — it’s to evacuate those users:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/18/urban-wildlife-interface/#combustible-walled-gardens

I’ve been campaigning for human rights in the digital world for more than 20 years; I’ve been EFF’s European Director, representing the public interest at the EU, the UN, Westminster, Ottawa and DC. This is the subject I’ve devoted my life to, and I live my principles. I won’t let my books be sold with DRM, which means that Audible won’t carry my audiobooks. My agent tells me that this decision has cost me enough money to pay off my mortgage and put my kid through college. That’s a price I’m willing to pay if it means that my books aren’t enshittification bait.

But not selling on Audible has another cost, one that’s more important to me: a lot of readers prefer audiobooks and 9 out of 10 of those readers start and end their searches on Audible. When they don’t find an author there, they assume no audiobook exists, period. It got so bad I put up an audiobook on Amazon — me, reading an essay, explaining how Audible rips off writers and readers. It’s called “Why None of My Audiobooks Are For Sale on Audible”:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/25/can-you-hear-me-now/#acx-ripoff

[Image ID: Doctorow has been thinking longer and smarter than anyone else I know about how we create and exchange value in a digital age. -Douglas Rushkoff, author of Present Shock]

To get my audiobooks into readers’ ears, I pre-sell them on Kickstarter. This has been wildly successful, both financially and as a means of getting other prominent authors to break up with Amazon and use crowdfunding to fill the gap. Writers like Brandon Sanderson are doing heroic work, smashing Amazon’s monopoly:

https://www.brandonsanderson.com/guest-editorial-cory-doctorow-is-a-bestselling-author-but-audible-wont-carry-his-audiobooks/

And to be frank, I love audiobooks, too. I swim every day as physio for a chronic pain condition, and I listen to 2–3 books/month on my underwater MP3 player, disappearing into an imaginary world as I scull back and forth in my public pool. I’m able to get those audiobooks on my MP3 player thanks to Libro.fm, a DRM-free store that supports indie booksellers all over the world:

https://blog.libro.fm/a-qa-with-mark-pearson-libro-fm-ceo-and-co-founder/

Producing my own audiobooks has been a dream. Working with Skyboat Media, I’ve gotten narrators like @wilwheaton​, Amber Benson, @neil-gaiman​ and Stefan Rudnicki for my work:

https://craphound.com/shop/

[Image ID: “This book is the instruction manual Big Tech doesn’t want you to read. It deconstructs their crummy products, undemocratic business models, rigged legal regimes, and lies. Crack this book and help build something better. -Astra Taylor, author of Democracy May Not Exist, but We’ll Miss It When Its Gone”]

But for this title, I decided that I would read it myself. After all, I’ve been podcasting since 2006, reading my own work aloud every week or so, even as I traveled the world and gave thousands of speeches about the subject of this book. I was excited (and a little trepedatious) at the prospect, but how could I pass up a chance to work with director Gabrielle de Cuir, who has directed everyone from Anne Hathaway to LeVar Burton to Eric Idle?

Reader, I fucking nailed it. I went back to those daily recordings fully prepared to hate them, but they were good — even great (especially after my engineer John Taylor Williams mastered them). Listen for yourself!

https://archive.org/details/cory_doctorow_internet_con_chapter_01

I hope you’ll consider backing this Kickstarter. If you’ve ever read my free, open access, CC-licensed blog posts and novels, or listened to my podcasts, or come to one of my talks and wished there was a way to say thank you, this is it. These crowdfunders make my DRM-free publishing program viable, even as audiobooks grow more central to a writer’s income and even as a single company takes over nearly the entire audiobook market.

Backers can choose from the DRM-free audiobook, DRM-free ebook (EPUB and MOBI) and a hardcover — including a signed, personalized option, fulfilled through the great LA indie bookstore Book Soup:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/the-internet-con-how-to-seize-the-means-of-computation

What’s more, these ebooks and audiobooks are unlike any you’ll get anywhere else because they are sold without any terms of service or license agreements. As has been the case since time immemorial, when you buy these books, they’re yours, and you are allowed to do anything with them that copyright law permits — give them away, lend them to friends, or simply read them with any technology you choose.

As with my previous Kickstarters, backers can get their audiobooks delivered with an app (from libro.fm) or as a folder of MP3s. That helps people who struggle with “sideloading,” a process that Apple and Google have made progressively harder, even as they force audiobook and ebook sellers to hand over a 30% app tax on every dollar they make:

https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/doctorow/red-team-blues-another-audiobook-that-amazon-wont-sell/posts/3788112

Enshittification is rotting every layer of the tech stack: mobile, payments, hosting, social, delivery, playback. Every tech company is pulling the rug out from under us, using the chokepoints they built between audiences and speakers, artists and fans, to pick all of our pockets.

The Internet Con isn’t just a lament for the internet we lost — it’s a plan to get it back. I hope you’ll get a copy and share it with the people you love, even as the tech platforms choke off your communities to pad their quarterly numbers.

Next weekend (Aug 4-6), I'll be in Austin for Armadillocon, a science fiction convention, where I'm the Guest of Honor:

https://armadillocon.org/d45/

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this thread to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/31/seize-the-means-of-computation/#the-internet-con

[Image ID: My forthcoming book 'The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation' in various editions: Verso hardcover, audiobook displayed on a phone, and ebook displayed on an e-ink reader.]

[disregardcanon]

i've been reading catching fire for the first time this year and i don't, personally, think that the quarter quell was a "smart move" for snow and the capitol even if things went the way that he wanted them to and katniss and peeta and all the rest died and he got a victor he could control. sure, it would have taken out katniss. but taking out katniss wasn't actually going to be the quick fix he wanted it to be.

because even the capitol citizens were upset about all of this. the capitol citizens, who had grown so used to having pretty victors to smush together like dolls and gush over and show that people from the districts CAN do something and make their lives better. it's the american bootstraps ideal made hideously manifest.

yes, they've been fed this propaganda diet that the games are proper retribution for a crime that happened a lifetime ago, but they're also supposed to bring out these Ideals TM the capitol claims to hold to and then the Beautiful Shiny Model Minority winner gets fame and fortune and safety and a promotion into capitol society. because they beat the odds and they won all these things! they *deserve* this!

now all of the privileged masses have these strong parasocial relationships where they thought they'd see their favorite athletes become safe and glamorous and happy. the social contract says that the capitol citizens get to have these lovely dolls to play with and now he's taking their toys away in a way that shows the propaganda never held any truth in the first place. if we don't actually value these people and what they represent, then why do we actually do it? (it's the cruelty. but the average capitol citizen doesn't understand that the cruelty is the point, because it took snow years and years and years of building up that Capacity for Cruelty, and most people never get to that point. there has to be a pretty facade over this for it to run smoothly for those average citizens like the prep team. and now it's not there anymore.)

and that's not even mentioning the different sort of horror this becomes for the districts, as the idea that's been sold to the wealthier districts is that if these children win they get fame and fortune and protection for life. but you're dragging them back into the horror that was supposed to buy their eternal glory? the careers aging out this year don't even have their "chance" in the arena to make their mark and gain their fortune. they'll just be losing some of their mentors in a pointless rehash.

in the poorer districts, perhaps there is some relief because their kids are safe this year but that means their only victors are being shipped off to die instead. and then their kids who won't have a chance in hell next year! because the hunger games are a perpetual motion exploitation machine, and the only way people were able to be numbed to it was figuring out the rules and then gritting their teeth and living their lives. but the rules are out the window, now. those rules that were supposed to make this terrible system something they could navigate and grit their teeth and suffering through are being blown to bits because snow tried to stomp out the tiniest embers instead of letting them burn out.

[leviathan-supersystem]

BEIJING — China’s struggling real estate developers won’t be getting a major bailout, Chinese authorities have indicated, warning that those who “harm the interests of the masses” will be punished.

“For real estate companies that are seriously insolvent and have lost the ability to operate, those that must go bankrupt should go bankrupt, or be restructured, in accordance with the law and market principles,” Ni Hong, Minister of Housing and Urban-Rural Development, said at a press conference Saturday.

“Those who commit acts that harm the interests of the masses will be resolutely investigated and punished in accordance with the law,” he said. “They will be made to pay the due price.”

That’s according to a CNBC translation of his Mandarin-language remarks published in an official transcript of the press conference, held alongside China’s annual parliamentary meetings.

Ni’s comments come as major real estate developers from Evergrande to Country Garden have defaulted on their debt, while plunging new home sales have put future business into question.

In 2020, Beijing cracked down on developers’ high reliance on debt for growth in an attempt to clamp down on property market speculation. But many developers soon ran out of money to finish building apartments, which are typically sold to homebuyers in China ahead of completion. Some buyers stopped paying their mortgages in a boycott.

Authorities have since announced measures to provide some developers with financing. But the national stance on reducing the role of real estate in the economy hasn’t changed.

This year’s annual government gathering has emphasized the country’s focus on investing in and building up high-end manufacturing capabilities. In contrast, the leadership has not mentioned the massive real estate sector as much.

Real estate barely came up during a press conference focused on the economy last week, while Ni was speaking during a meeting that focused on “people’s livelihoods.”

Ni said authorities would promote housing sales and the development of affordable housing, while emphasizing the need to consider the longer term.

Near-term changes in the property sector have a significant impact on China’s overall economy.

Real estate was once about 25% of China’s GDP, when including related sectors such as construction. UBS analysts estimated late last year that property now accounts for about 22% of the economy.

Last week, Premier Li Qiang said in his government work report that in the year ahead, China would “move faster to foster a new development model for real estate.”

“We will scale up the building and supply of government-subsidized housing and improve the basic systems for commodity housing to meet people’s essential need for a home to live in and their different demands for better housing,” an English-language version of the report said.

next time you complain about how things are in America, consider that if you lived in some kind of scary communist country like China, you wouldn't even get to fund a bailout for the real estate company owners who ruined the economy like you can (whether you like it or not) in the good old US of A! 🇺🇲

[megalony]

Just Hold On

This is my first time writing for Tyler Owens from Twisters, as I absolutely loved the film. I hope you will all like this.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700

@ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @itshamleth @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro

Masterlist

Summary: Tyler and (Y/n) head out together, just the two of them, away from the bustle of the team. But just as they're getting close to one another, a tornado blunders in their path.

(If anyone has any requests for Twisters I would love to hear them. Feedback is always lovely)

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You wanna get out of here?"

That one sentence had been enough to spark adrenaline through (Y/n)'s entire system and have her heart working on overload.

It had been something she had been waiting, hoping, praying to hear since the first moment she started to tag along with the 'tornado wranglers' and found herself getting close to the leader of the group. Tyler Owens. The man whose face was on a thousand t-shirts, sold all around the country in every state.

The man who acted like a beacon, like a daredevil who was so eager to put himself into dangerous situations without care or fault. But underneath, there was something endearing and almost bashful. Underneath all the boysterous exterior, there was someone who cared more for the safety of others than himself.

And (Y/n) wanted to be as close to him as she could.

It had been a bit of a surprise to find herself riding alone with Tyler in his modified, beat up truck, but she jumped at the chance to get away for a while.

It was a relief to escape the motel the group had been staying in. No more bonfires outside, no more strange, wild stories that got adapted and emboldened each time they were retold, depending on who told them. And going away from the motel saved (Y/n) from another night alone in her room, unsure what to do with herself.

Those words kept playing around in her head like a record as she sat in the quiet diner opposite Tyler. She wasn't sure why he'd asked her of all people to spend time with him this evening. There were better people he could be around, interesting people, his wrangler friends who never seemed to leave his side.

But none of that mattered now, because he'd asked her and here they were.

Her eyes lifted up from aimlessly staring at her drink to look at Tyler instead. He looked very relaxed. He was slightly slouched down to the left, one hand tapping quietly on the table beside his drink and the other hand drawing patterns on his thigh.

(Y/n) liked his shirt. She liked the black and blood red checkered button up he was wearing and the fact that he had the first three buttons undone. He also had the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing his lower arms and the veins that were popping up on his skin.

From the closeness, (Y/n) could also see the few scars littering his skin. She could see little white lines slashed against the top of his arms and the deeper white and baby pink scars on his hands that looked like they would have hurt some time ago. She hadn't noticed them before.

From looking at Tyler and seeing all the YouTube videos, everyone would assume he came out of each tornado unscathed. But the scars on his skin gaveaway that he was still human, he still cut and bled and he had indeed been in quite a few scrapes over the years.

"What're you thinking so intently about?" His quiet, gritty voice brought (Y/n) out of her thoughts and she found herself dragging her eyes up from his arms to look at his eyes instead.

Those pastel green eyes looked unusually wide today. (Y/n) watched his eyes narrow a little as his head tilted at an angle so he could look her up and down in a way that had her stomach turning to mush. And his eyes creased when his lips curved into a low smile that had his cheeks puffing up at the sides.

"Just… just thinking about the chase today, and if it will be the same tomorrow." It seemed like a plausable excuse considering today's tornado had been low level two.

Tyler said those were the better ones to drive into or drive through, as the wind speed was lower and therefore made it easier not to get sucked up into the whirlwind. As much as he liked to drive and run into danger head on, he also seemed to enjoy playing it safe in some ways. He knew when a tornado wasn't safe to go into or when it was time to take shelter rather than run into the winds, as it were.

"And there's me hoping you'd be thinking of me." His tone was playful and his forming smirk was enough to make (Y/n) raise a brow as she took a sip of her drink.

"Why didn't you want to stay at the motel tonight, with the others?"

(Y/n) pushed her drink into the middle of the table so she could fold her arms together and lean forward. Her head inclined as she waited patiently for Tyler to debate the question and think of an answer.

He sat up a bit straighter in the booth, his left hand still quietly tapping away on the end of the table while his other hand shifted to curl around his glass instead. He looked more natural like this when he didn't wear his hat. Although his hat did suit him increadibly well and it gave off a good image, it was still a good chance to see him with his short blond strands roaming free and shifting through the winds when they were outside int he night air.

The diner they had come to was quaint, seemingly in the middle of somewhere and nowhere at the same time. There was a small motel to the left, much smaller than the one they had come from twenty miles down the road. Across the street there was a twenty-four hour store next to a gas station and there was a few scattered houses in the distance. It seemed like a small, compact little place settled right in the middle between two large towns.

Tyler glanced around the diner. He hadn't been here before, but he remembered it was here when they drove past at least three times in the last week. That seemed like a coincidence, a sign telling him he had to stop here at least once and check it out.

There weren't many people here. A young couple at the far end. A mother and daughter the other way. A few workers and one lonesome person at the bar having a few drinks. It was quaint, quiet. Just what they needed after days of chasing tornados and being surrounded by noisy but loving friends.

"Sometimes it's nice to get away." Tyler reached out for his drink while his eyes remained on the girl sitting in front of him.

"What are you getting away from?" She spoke before she could think better of it, but Tyler didn't seem annoyed by her question. Instead, his smirk shifted into a funny half smile, half pout that crinkled the end of his nose.

"Everything… the cameras, the questions, the noise. What about you, what are you getting away from?"

Tyler had been more than intrigued when (Y/n) joined their group. She didn't strike him as the chasing type. The type to go willingly into danger, looking for fun and trouble and answers to nature's mysteries. But that wasn't to say he wasn't happy that she had joined them. She had insight, she had instinct when it came to the changes in weather and the wind patterns and her curiosity for these natural disastrous phenomenon matched Tyler's.

"I'm not, I'm just following your path."

"Right into danger," Tyler twirled his index finger around in circles beside his head with a wicked grin that could make anyone fall to their knees. "You must be crazy."

"Must be." (Y/n) murmured in agreement. There had to be some part of her that was mad or deluded to do this, to do what the rest of Tyler's team was doing. Following him into the line of danger simply because they all believed in him and what he was doing.

But (Y/n) knew it wasn't just a strange, crazed part of her brain that let her follow Tyler's lead, wherever that lead. She knew the other reason she had stuck with them for so long now was because she couldn't will herself to leave. To leave Tyler. He had her heart in his hands and she didn't want it back.

(Y/n) found herself starting to become lost in her thoughts again until Tyler suddenly pushed forward in his seat and leaned over the table. He picked up his glass and downed the last remnants before tapping it against the table with a wide grin.

"Shall we?"

It wasn't clear whether Tyler was planning on getting back in the truck and going straight back to the motel, whether he was thinking of driving around for a while. Or maybe he had it in mind to walk around here first and delay their return. (Y/n) wasn't sure, but she nodded her head and went along with him, she was fine with whatever he chose.

She shuffled out the booth and moved to walk by his side, realising they were close enough that their arms were brushing together.

When Tyler held open the door that chimed a bell, signalling their departure, (Y/n) dipped her head and headed out in front of him.

Their steps fell back in sync as (Y/n) followed Tyler's path towards the truck that was parked across on the left, near the quaint but rather grimey motel.

She was about to try and strike up another conversation until Tyler moved. Without looking her way or breaking his stride, his left hand reached out for her hand. He moved slow, testing the waters as he took her hand in his, meshing their palms together and slowly entwining their fingers together. Giving (Y/n) ample time to pull her hand away and back out if she didn't want to.

But he dipped his head down when he felt her fingers squeeze his hand with intensity and she held to him just as tightly. He began to glide his thumb over the back of her hand and ticked his head to the left, a small but sincerely genuine smile plastered across his lips as he looked at her.

The silence between them was comfortable and seemed to speak volumes in itself. (Y/n) found that one of them- she wasn't sure who- had moved even closer so that their arms were now pressed flush together and if she really wanted to, she could lean her cheek on his arm.

She could feel his thumb gliding over the back of her hand every now and then and she tried to stop herself from squeezing her fingers against his hand too often. Their steps slowed down as they approached the truck as if they were both trying to drag this moment out and make it last into an eternity. Not that they couldn't make this evening stretch on if they got in the truck, they could take a longer route to get back. They could drive somewhere else or drive around aimlessly if they wanted.

(Y/n) wasn't sure what to do when they reached the red truck that was hidden behind layers of dirt and caked on mud and flecks of grit. She had one mind to reach out and open the passenger door and climb up, but that meant letting go of Tyler's hand, and she really didn't want to do that.

Instead, she opted for turning so her back was against the door, allowing her to look up at Tyler instead. She found her back pressing back on the door and she hoped there wouldn't be an outline or an imprint of her frame on the door when she eventually pulled away.

Her head tilted back to get a better look up at him and her heart leaped into her throat when Tyler stepped forward. Their hands stayed tangled together. Tyler's right hand pressed against the roof of the truck, allowing him a good angle to look and lean down into (Y/n)'s view.

His head inclined down until they were impossible close, less than half an inch of space between them. All (Y/n) had to do was turn her head and their noses would brush and their lips would touch. She was so close to those red lips that were curved into a smile, not a grin.

Not his usual smirk or that cheeky grin that meant he was going to do something rash or make a joke or try to enlighten the situation and make fun of what they were doing.

The look was kind, caring and seemingly thought out, rather than rash and impulsive.

"Can I?"

(Y/n) barely heard his words and she wasn't quite sure why he was asking when she knew she was at the point of smiling up at him. If she didn't want him to be this close or get any closer, she would have backed away or given him a shove by now.

The feeling of Tyler's lips on hers was something (Y/n) had been imagining for a while now, and something that beat every thought and expectation she had.

She could feel Tyler trying desperately not to smile against her and distort the kiss. And his hand tightened around hers while his other hand moved to cup the side of her face and incline her head more to meet his touch.

When her lips parted, it felt like Tyler was trying to take the little air she had in her lungs and she found herself gasping against his lips, desperately wanting his touch but also needing air.

Tyler's lips curved into a lighthearted smile when they finally pulled apart and their temples rested together. He began to smooth his thumb along the curve of her jaw and up towards her lips that tasted like cherry lip balm. Their noses brushed and when he sucked in a few breaths, Tyler couldn't resist leaning back down for another kiss.

He felt (Y/n) push off the truck and mould their chests together, leaning into him just enough to nudge him onto his back foot and push them both away from the truck. She didn't want to get in the truck yet. She didn't want this moment to end, and neither did he.

"You know, I've-"

Words formed in Tyler's mind like a whirlwind. Everything he wanted to tell her, to say that he had been in agony wanting to kiss her for days, weeks, now. He hoped she felt the same. He wanted to make tonight last into an eternity and stay in this little bubble they had created together. He wanted to continue kissing (Y/n) until the world ended.

But none of those thoughts made it past his lips when something caught his attention.

A shift in the atmosphere. A change in the wind. A very harsh chill collided against his back and almost knocked him off balance.

The wind made goosebumps rise on his flesh and had the hairs at the back of his neck standing on end. And another gust of wind sent chills down his spine and made him feel every little speck of dust and grit that rose from the floor and scuttled through the air and knocked against his skin.

Tyler's hand paused, cupping (Y/n)'s cheek and his fingers slotted tighter into the grooves of her hand as he tilted his head back to look up into the night sky.

It felt familiar. It felt daunting.

(Y/n)'s hand clutching his shoulder brought Tyler back and he looked down at her to find that she wasn't looking at him. His name fell past her lips in a dry whisper and Tyler turned to look over his shoulder to find out what (Y/n) was so intently staring at, although he had a gut instinct that he already knew what would be behind him.

A tornado.

A gust of wind circling through the air, picking up in the atmosphere, creating a whirlwind that was mounting and doubling in size.

Why now? Why tonight? Why right here? Right when things were finally going well, when Tyler was finally about to have something different in his life, someone different who wanted him just as badly. They didn't want or need a force of nature interferring tonight, but it was too late.

The tornado was getting closer. The wind was picking up and it was moving across the road in a sporadic pattern that was shifting and changing every second. If Tyler tried to drive through that they would get picked up and ripped apart into oblivion. There wasn't time to try and drive in the other direction, they couldn't outrun a tornado, they could only follow and drive into them.

Tyler's hand dropped from (Y/n)'s face to grip her waist with a sudden desperation while his wide eyes stared around them, trying to find the best place to be. Where was the best place to hide? Did the motel or the diner have a cellar?

The diner had a window on every wall, it was more glass than wall and that wasn't good. Hiding in there meant being close to broken glass and tables and chairs would go flying.

The motel was one story, not like the one they were staying at in the next town which had two floors and a lot more rooms than this. It wouldn't be a safe bet either unless there was a cellar or a storm shelter in the grounds. The shop and the gas station didn't look to be much better and Tyler didn't want to be anywhere near inflammables. The storm could knock things over and rip up the gas pipes. Fires could start and they would go up in flames.

"We have to help them."

He wasn't sure who (Y/n) was talking about for a moment until she used their tangled hands to point towards the motel.

People were starting to rush about. A woman was trying to hurry her daughter towards a car. She was never going to drive through this, their car would be taken from the road and they would never survive.

A quiet "Come on," passed Tyler's lips as he turned on his heels and started to run. He kept his hand tightly tangled with (Y/n)'s, keeping her as close as he could so he didn't lose her in the chaos that was about to ensue.

He felt her other hand curl around his bicep, making sure they stayed tethered together so nothing separated them.

"No, no stop!" Tyler waved his free hand out in front of him, desperate to get the woman's attention as she tried to lift her daughter into the car. "You can't drive in this, we need to find shelter."

He reached out for her arm, not attempting to move or drag her away from the car at all, but just to try and show the desperation he felt and make sure she understood they were only trying to help.

The woman eyed him carefully, tears already falling down her face as she held her daughter against her chest, trembling horribly. But she nodded. Either she knew who he was and knew he had been in this situation before, or she had some sort of instinct that Tyler was trying to help.

She juggled her daughter higher on her chest, kicked the car door shut and turned to follow them. She wasn't sure where they were going, but she would go any way they led if it meant keeping herself and her child safe.

The four of them burst into the motel reception and it was the first time Tyler let go of (Y/n)'s hand. A wave of unease overtook her and she could feel goosebumps travelling up her arm from her empty hand. But when she looked up at Tyler, she found he was already looking at her, as if making sure she was still there now he had let go.

Once satisfied, Tyler slammed his hands down on the desk to get the worker's attention.

(Y/n) tried to look around, but she couldn't see anything. The door to the back room was open, but there didn't seem to be anywhere leading to a cellar or a bunker room or anywhere that looked remotely safe.

She could barely hear Tyler arguing with two men, trying to ask one if there was a storm shelter and tell the other to shut up because there was a tornado approaching. Her arms cocooned around her chest and she spun in circles until she stopped and looked out the window.

Where could they go? Would they be safe enough staying in here? Maybe they could cramp behind the desk, but that didn't feel like a safe option, not when there were at least seven of them here in the reception. Too many to cramp together. The motel could be destroyed if the tornado was big enough, staying inside might not be safe.

Her body flinched at seeing plastic tables and flimsy chairs flying across the grounds outside the window.

Going back outside didn't seem favourable, until (Y/n) squinted in the darkness to see where the chairs were coming from and what was behind the fence up ahead.

She spun on her heels and moved towards Tyler who was close to slamming his fists on the desk in anger because no one seemed to be taking him seriously apart from the mother and her daughter. But the tension fizzled out of his body when he felt two familiar hands on either of his arms. He looked over at (Y/n) as she pressed up into his side.

"There's a pool."

"It's empty this time of year."

"We're not going swimming. Come on." Tyler waved his hand at them, relieved to see the mother, her daughter, and the reception worker were moving to follow. The other couple seemed intent on staying in here and complaining, waiting for the tornado they didn't believe in to come and ravage the motel that would undoubtedly be in its path.

They weren't trying to go for a late night swim and water wouldn't be the safest place to hide during a disaster like this. But pools were deep, at least one end would be very deep. It would act as a shelter, safely made of concrete and built into the ground. It would give them some cover and keep them from being whisked up into the air and taken by the wind.

(Y/n) found her hand clasped in Tyler's once again and she followed him out into the blistering wind, the others following close behind.

It was hard to keep her eyes open and she had to tilt her head down towards her feet to keep pushing forward. Her forehead pressed into Tyler's arm and she gasped, her body shaking as a chair whipped past them, breaking apart mid-air as it got pulled in too many different directions all at once.

As soon as Tyler wrenched open the small gate, it flung back with so much force the hinges started to squeak and break apart. He pushed ahead and leaned over the edge of the pool, checking just to make sure it was truly empty. The last thing they needed was to find it full of murky water that wouldn't provide them any sanctuary.

It was empty.

"Go, go!"

(Y/n) would have preferred someone else to take the lead and go down first, but she could see the mother and the receptionist looking at her. Waiting for her to move, to show them what to do and prove that it was going to be okay and that it was safe. And Tyler wasn't going down there until everyone else was there and towards safety first.

She shakily let go of his hand and twisted around to grab the metal rails that were thankfully drilled so far into the tiles that they would remain stable during the raging winds.

She climbed down half the steps before jumping the rest, she didn't want to waste time.

Once she was down, (Y/n) could feel her balance shifting. The floor was sloped towards the left which was obviously the deep end and combined with the raging winds that were almost forcing her off her feet, she couldn't stand straight.

Her eyes squinted through the weather and she stretched her arms up for the little girl. No point wasting time when they could just pass her down this way.

Once the girl was safely in her arms, (Y/n) clung to her and looked around. the pool must have been in the middle of renovation, for one wall was broken apart so the pipes were revealed. Just what they needed, something to cling to.

She let go of the girl once her mother had clambered down the steps and took hold of her again. "Go to the pipes."

(Y/n) bound her arms around her waist and stood to one side, if it could be called standing when she was being shaken from foot to foot, leaning every which way the wind blew her. Once the worker and Tyler clambered down into the sanctuary of the empty pool, (Y/n) moved closer but her arms stretched out towards them when each of them heard the motel sign begin to creak.

Sparks flew in all directions, casting golden splinters into the wind and the sheets of hail that were flying all around them. The sign swayed and rattled and groaned until finally the metal gave way and snapped apart, falling directly in their path.

None of them could move quick enough and everything seemed to happen at the speed of light.

Both (Y/n)'s arms bound around Tyler when he backed up into her and she felt his hand clamp down on her left hip so tightly his fingers were going to bruise into her skin and his nails were piercing through her jeans. She felt his back slam into her chest and the pair of them slammed down to the floor as the sign landed in front of them, only one inch away from crushing their legs.

It separated them from the receptionist who was shrieking in panic, cast across the other side of the pool.

"Okay?" Tyler managed to splutter as he tilted his head back into (Y/n)'s shoulder and looked up at her through squinting eyes. He watched her nod and he could feel each rapid breath she took which fanned against his back.

He gave her hip a squeeze before he peeled his hand off of her hip and flopped over so he was lying on his stomach. He couldn't stand up. If he did the wind would take him. He had to spread his weight out across the floor so he was heavier and harder to be moved by nature.

He could feel (Y/n) shifting behind him so she was in the same crouching position.

"Go."

"But-"

"Hurry and don't let go." He flung his hand towards the other end of the pool where the pipes were. He needed (Y/n) to stay safe, he would help the man who was still shrieking on the other side of the collapsed sign.

Twisting around, Tyler tried to army crawl along the floor but he was sliding towards the left. His teeth gritted together so tightly it felt like they were going to disintegrate and his jaw was pulsing.

"Stay down- just- no. Stay down, let me help!" He felt like a broken record, repeating various versions of those words but to no avail.

The man wasn't listening to him. He was desperate not to be swept away by the gushing winds, but he wasn't heeding the advice he was being given. If he stood up he would be a target for the winds, he would be easier to move and liable to falling. Staying laid on the ground was his best bet.

"Help me!"

"Get down-" Tyler's hand slammed into the floor and split apart the skin covering his knuckles as a scream left his lips when the man got up.

The tornado got him.

It claimed him as one of its many victims. The moment he was on his wobbling feet, he stumbled backwards, flung his arms out, and took flight like an ailing bird caught in the sea breeze. He was gone. There was no helping him or getting him back. He had been taken and Tyler couldn't do anything. Maybe he would of been better off staying in the motel.

"Tyler!"

He crained his neck to look over his right shoulder and glanced back at the three girls behind him. They were cowering against the pipes like they were in some form of protest.

The mother had her whole frame curled around her daughter who had both small arms tangled around the pipes. If the wind picked up anymore her arms looked like they might break, but it was securing her from a weightless death in the air and that was all that mattered.

But it was (Y/n) who held Tyler's attention. Her arm bound around a pipe and her hand clinging to the one below to anchor herself down. Her legs were trying desperately to curl up into her stomach but they were starting to flail around in the air. And her other hand kept moving out in Tyler's direction, grasping for his attention to tell him to get over to them. He had to move. He had to come over and stay safe with them. (Y/n) couldn't lose him.

Tyler's teeth ground together causing a splitting ache in his jaw as he slammed his arms down on the concrete ground. He could feel the pads of his fingers beginning to split and grate against the floor as he shuffled along on his front. It felt odd, army-crawling along like this with the wind trying to lift his legs from the ground and pick him up.

More often than not when a tornado was approaching, Tyler was in the truck driving head first into it. He wasn't hanging around on the side of the road or taking cover in an abandoned pool.

Groans and yells clawed past his lips as he got closer and closer to his destination. To (Y/n).

He could feel his knees scraping against the floor when the wind tried to drag him backwards and he pushed up on his left arm just enough to stretch out his hand.

The feeling of (Y/n)'s hand enveloping around his was the lifeline Tyler needed and she used what little strength she could spare from holding herself steadfast to drag Tyler closer.

Once he was close enough, (Y/n) managed to let go of his hand so she could bind her arm around the pipe again. She couldn't afford not to hang on when she could barely keep her legs from flailing around in the air. Her eyes snapped closed and her forehead pressed against one of the larger copper pipes. It didn't feel like a good move when the wind shook her head and had her temple bashing against the pipe. But it was preferable to having her neck break when her head wobbled every which way but loose.

She could feel Tyler behind her, wedging himself in between her and the mother and daughter. Right in the centre in case either of them let go or needed help or something happened. Ready for action.

But surprise flooded (Y/n)'s stomach with adrenaline when she felt him move.

Tyler's left arm secured over (Y/n)'s arm and his hand clutched desperately next to hers. His chest moulded down over (Y/n)'s back, his arm pinned down over her like he was a blanket securing around her and his right arm reached up to cling to the higher pipe. Both Tyler's legs pressed up into the back of (Y/n)'s knees from the way he was kneeling on the floor and it made (Y/n) feel like she was sitting on his lap. But she didn't care.

He was moulded around her, trying to keep her safe and shield her from the elements. And when he tipped his head down, (Y/n) was sure that despite the raging winds, the whistling sound of metal flying through the air and the distant screams, she could hear him breathing into her hair. It was almost as if he was kissing the top of her head with each harsh breath he took.

"Just Hold on." His voice was loud to compete with the raging winds but it sounded so hollow and quiet in (Y/n)'s ears.

She found herself holding tighter, curling up even smaller, pushing her back against his chest. Doing whatever she felt she could to try and stay where she was and ground herself until the tornado was gone. How long would that be? Was it going to disappear soon? Would it continue and grow larger and suck in the nearby winds and clouds? Would any of them be able to hold on for much longer?

(Y/n) knew if the winds weren't whipping at her face so much, she would have burst into tears by now. She could feel a few leaving the corners of her eyes and being wrenched off into the winds, but those were tears of desperation. Tears trying to moisten her eyes and prevent them from cracking or becoming glued shut with grit and dirt.

She wasn't even close to shedding tears of fear and agony yet. Those would happen once the weather faded, she knew it for sure.

The panic (Y/n) could feel circulating through each and every part of her body momentarily died down when she felt Tyler move. His left arm that had been pinned beside hers briefly let go of the pipe and his iron clad arm bound around (Y/n)'s waist instead.

The action caused her to suck in a deeper breath which shocked her lungs that were trying to take shallow breaths as not to inhale any dust or little objects flying through the air. She couldn't open her eyes yet, but she could feel his arm right around her waist and his elbow digging securely into her side just above her hip.

He tugged her back closer to his chest so there was no inch of space between them and his hand secured around a lower pipe so he could hold them both down.

"Stay down, I got you."

He wad anchoring them both together, keeping steadfast despite the elements.

Neither of them quite believed it when the raging winds finally started to die down. In a matter of moments, it was if a switch had been flicked. Everything stopped. Plastic chairs stopped flying through the air. Metal beams and broken chunks of plastic and wires stopped taking flight and were no longer dangerous weapons of nature.

Cars crashed down to the floor and the road, breaking apart on impact, wheels spinning and crashing off into different directions.

Destruction was all that was left in the tornado's wake.

(Y/n) felt her legs slump against the floor and her body slumped to the right, clattering against the pipes now that the wind wasn't lifting her up anymore. She felt Tyler somewhat cushion her fall as she fell back into him and she realised his face was still tucked down against the top of her head. Now she could hear his harsh breaths fanning against her hair which almost felt like he was kissing her head.

Each breath Tyler took was ragged and harsh and made his chest heave and push out against her back. And (Y/n) found herself finally able to open her eyes as she flopped her head back against his shoulder. The action caused him to lift his head, but he simply pressed his lips against her temple this time and kissed her forehead.

She stayed still and horribly tense as Tyler shifted around and wrenched his hands away from the pipes, but his left arm remained steadfast around (Y/n)'s waist.

He looked to his right and reached his free hand out for the woman's elbow, a soft yet slightly bewildered look in his eyes as he croaked "Are you okay?" To which she nodded and hugged her daughter closer who seemed to be mute in utter shock and despair.

"What about you, are you alright?" Tyler looked down at (Y/n) and rested his lips back against the top of her head again but he sighed when he looked at her. He could see her hands were welded onto the pipes, trembling but holding tight, unable to let go for fear of being whisked away into the atmosphere.

He felt (Y/n) try and nod her head but she stopped when he reached his free hand out and carefully curled his fingers around her hand.

"You're okay, you can let go now." His words were so quiet (Y/n) wondered if she had imagined them and she found her hands trembling horribly when Tyler carefully peeled them away.

She dropped her hands down and clutched at his forearms, leaning her head at an angle so she could look up at him better. He looked dashing from this angle, even after an event like that. His hair was barely tousled, only a few strands out of place. He had a few cuts on his hands and exposed arms and no doubt he would have a few bruises, but he looked relatively unscathed.

"And you?" (Y/n) gulped croakily, squeezing his arm as she continued to look him over, checking for any sign of injury that would need attending to.

"I'm fine."

He nudged his temple against the side of her head and closed his eyes for a few seconds to try and regulate his system. He wasn't used to seeing tornados up close like that unless the truck was involved. It had been a while since he had been through one on the ground like that.

"You know," (Y/n) started through deep breaths and welling tears. "I prefer tornados when you drive through them, Mr Wrangler."

Her words had a wide, toothy grin spreading across Tyler's lips and he let out a breathless laugh before he leaned forward to steal a kiss from her slightly chapped lips. Then another. And another.

"Me too, sweetheart."

[marimoscorner]

Consumerism & Witchcraft

Written by Marimo (he/they)🌿

I’ve seen a turn for the better in some witchy spaces regarding consumerism in the past few years, but overall it still tends to be an issue for us as a community. I’ve decided to try and breakdown the pitfalls I’ve noticed in my own journey, in the hopes that it will inspire and assist others. I’ve also provided alternatives and ideas on how to make small changes in our practice to help us better protect the Earth, stick it to the failing system and still acquire our bits and bobs we love so dearly.

As always, I am no authority on any subject nor am I perfect—but we’re all learning as we go, so let’s dive right in 🌿

A Preface

There are some things that should be made entirely clear before we begin:

You are not a bad person for wanting an aesthetic

You are not a bad person for unknowingly falling into pitfalls. Only if you continue to purposefully do so after knowing better

You are not a bad person for consuming content/objects or for not always making the most sustainable decisions. At the end of the day, we can only control our small part of environmental impact, while the rest is left up to the major corporations that make more pollution than any of us ever will

You are only human. Show yourself some grace and understanding that the internet so lacks.

My Experience in Consumerist Hell

I have fallen victim many times to consumerism in witchcraft. Starting my journey at the ripe age of about ten years old and heavily in the broom closet, I was quickly drawn in by the shiny rocks, the brand new candles and scents, the promise of new tarot decks and pendulums and other fancy, shiny new equipment. I was consuming an online aesthetic along with my ideals, and it distracted me from starting my journey by learning well.

I began to spend my birthday and holiday money on the aesthetic of things. While, granted, I still did buy a few literary resources now and again from my local secondhand bookstore—I was stubbornly ignoring the sage advice to learn and understand first before diving in headfirst.

I purchased statues, crystals, too many tarot decks to use. I purchased osteomancy bones I later returned to the earth, for I had not done enough research to know that that animal was mine to practice with. I had a tankard full of incense sticks, and even a growing pile of books that would not be read. While I liked to consider myself crafty with my homemade Maypole and various hand-bound Grimoires, something was becoming apparent: this was all a distraction.

The aesthetic I was partaking in was providing me with a false sense of progress and practicality.

When I’d go to do a tarot reading, I’d become far too overwhelmed with choosing a deck to read in the first place. When making an offering to a deity, I’d feel pressured to also bolster the altars of all the other deities I’d set up, and with my wide pool, the connections felt muddy. Often times I’d be off-put on a project or spell because I knew I needed to film it and it needed to look nice.

In the long term, I don’t have many of these items today. I’ve sold and donated a vast breadth of them. Feeling overwhelmed costed me a few years retreat from my craft to recuperate. However, what has stuck with me is the knowledge I picked up along the way.

So, What’s the Issue? TL;DR

I’ve noticed a few issues here in making these mistakes myself.

Consumerism absolutely distracts you from learning and your craft

Overconsumption leads to environmental damage. If everyone hoarded supplies, there would not be enough to go around. And with what gets thrown away every year…it paints an ugly wound on the Earth

We damage our learning abilities by not allowing ourselves to be anything less than perfect

The need for aesthetic creates barriers to entry within the community and creates a divide of haves and have-nots

You won’t be able to truly follow your individual path if you are only consuming and not creating for yourself

Consumerist culture promotes appropriation. Metaphysical stores carry items from closed practices (such as white sage and palo santo, or coyote bones) because someone is buying them. Don’t be that person, and find alternatives relating to your own culture instead

Consumerism can influence your spiritual decisions based upon monetary inclinations (where some may sacrifice a quality ingredient over a higher quantity of a lower quality ingredient)

So, what can we do?

Firstly, I want to clarify that I am not against collecting, nor am I against maximalism or the beautiful visual aesthetic we carry as a community.

I am an artist a very visual person and understand the longing for a beautiful home and workspace. However, this aesthetic shouldn’t come at the cost of irresponsibly harming the Earth or another community.

Thus, I’ve compiled a list of small things that I will be incorporating into my practice to make it more mindful and sustainable. I hope that you’ll join me in a few of them.

Minimize Supplies. While I used to have a huge selection of stationary for my Grimoire, I now limit myself to a simple pencil and watercolor set if I’m feeling artistic. This helps me actually use my Grimoire for study, rather than to keep perfect. It’s also friendlier on my wallet!

Thrift Supplies. There are plenty of perfectly good items that get donated daily. You can get high-quality candles and holders, old crystal bowls for altar offerings, spare crafting supplies, fabric for alter cloths and even clothing if you so wish—all for a fraction of the cost new and while saving the planet just a little bit more. Hell, you can sometimes even find good silver!

Share Supplies with your Community. You can create a sort of barter system with other witches in your area. Perhaps you create a sigil for them, and they provide you with a candle spell. Play to your strengths and grow together!

Look for Creative Outlets. Do you really need to go buy an altar statue that’s been mass-produced? Or can you give your deity the personal gift of a drawing, painting or even hand-modeled or hand-carved rendition? This will also deepen your connection to your craft and your magic, and make it more meaningful and stronger. If you really like something, though, go for it!

If you aren’t the artistic sort, consider supporting an artist before going to a large company. While I haven’t purchased from them myself, Blagowood on Etsy has beautiful deity statues carved from wood by their small team in Ukraine for a comparable cost to the standard mass produced metal statues. I consider this extra labor of love going into these pieces and those of similar small companies to be much better energy for my practice. I myself may put out some art prints and other handmade supplies in the future, but I will likely spread them around my community first.

Try Secondhand Books. While not available in every area and further still not as available for witchcraft and occult books, you may strike luck! Not only are secondhand books less expensive, but you’ll be supporting a local business. That’s not to say you can’t buy firsthand books, but some searching around may be beneficial to the earth and to your wallet in the long run.

Be mindful of where you source supplies and decor. If you are a fan of taxidermy decor, make sure that you source cruelty free. Bats can practically never be sourced without cruelty, so if a shop carries them, I’d be mindful of their other specimens. The same goes for if a shop decides to forgo a culture’s wishes and carry supplies sacred to them, such as white sage or dreamcatchers. Supporting folks who turn a profit off of others’ suffering is not something many would wish to include energetically in their craft.

Search the Wild for Tools. Find sticks, flowers and other plants out in the forest. Learn how to rockhound in your area for crystals. Your craft will be more powerful the more connected it is to the land you are surrounded by. Be sure to reference guides for safety and legality!

Get Creative with Purposes. If you are having difficulty finding exactly what you need by thrifting or searching, make another tool multipurpose if it would do the job good enough. Find supplies that are easy to source and work as substitutes for other ingredients (ex. Quartz as a stand in for other stones)

Spend more time Doing. Go out into the woods (safely) and advance your connection to the earth instead of worrying over the perfect item for your collection. Your craft will benefit

At the end of the day, all of this is your decision. Take what you like, and leave what you don’t. Even if we don’t agree, I thank you for your time and open mind. I will continue updating about how I incorporate these steps, and I will also hopefully post more on witchy crafting in the future.

I wish you well, and hope you’ll decide to follow along on our journey!

[omelepun]

Translation because i tried to write cursive and failed horrendously:

“04.28.516

The mints are growing quite well. Collected basil today for Senshi’s new recipe. Tomorrow fertilize soil.

Yusef came by m(orning). Fed cod. Left.

(Ear) more rounded than others—stick out?

Kabru came by to eat. Skipped breakfast again. Must I move into the castle to feed you?

Drank w(ith) Chilchuck and Senshi. Puckpatti had to drag him home.”

I’ll talk a bit about this. This is a page from Mithrun’s journal after he has settled down in the kingdom, and is currently running a ramen or udon or whatever-they feel-like-making-that-day shop with Senshi. I was really inspired by Kui’s sketch of Senshi’s journal and thought that since they are friends post canon (hopefully so) Mithrun will want to keep one like him as well.

He was an aristocrat after all so I think he would have had some sort of training in drawing or classy hobbies like that. And him trying to rediscover desires, he draws miscellaneous things in his daily life living with the townsfolk and merchants in the market, and Kabru, he draws Kabru a lot. Pages after pages of him, that he hides.

But he still can’t get Kabru quite right, and he gets upset about it. New desire to draw him better I guess haha. Him purchasing the finest lapis lazuli pigment sold in the market to draw his eyes, but it never looks right to him. He gets frustrated,,oughhh…

And I also thought it would be funny to have a stray cat that keeps sneaking into his house to steal his food, so he just feeds it whatever is available, preferably fish, cod. He calls it Yusef because the kids he teaches self defense do. The cat distribution system at its best, he doesn’t even know he is a cat owner until he is one.

He drinks with Chilchuck and Senshi sometimes, they’re the middle aged men gang, yay���

I really hope you like this tumblr, I tried to make it somewhat poetic but it just turned out kinda cheesy, oh i hope not, yeah

[moonsaver]

Yan!Alhaitham wears you to work.

It was easy. Finding your shampoo, soaps, scents.. practically any daily use items that you usually bought from the bazaar. He stalks you almost casually – nodding at you familiarly when you do spot him, as if seeing him for the 5th time in the same day wasn't creepy. You seem uncomfortable, but don't bother confronting him about it. Mainly either due to the fact you don't want a confrontation, or you simply aren't sure if he's stalking you in the first place.

In the shower, your scent fills the entire bathroom. He considers any free time now dedicated to thinking about you. The fabrics you wore yesterday seemed to have a few loose threads. According to the bottle of perfume he bought at the same time as yours, yours is running out. A visit to the old lady tucked away in the corner of the bustling street is probably on your weekly schedule, now. The scent of your soap clings to his skin comfortably, emanating gently in a still space. If he stood for long enough, your acquaintances might actually realise they're smelling you on him. Whether or not it's a good thing.. who knows. He doesn't care.

The tap stops, and he steps out. The droplets of water follow his feet as he walks. Your towel – or rather, a duplicate he bought. Your scented oils. Your hand cream. Your preferred ink, pens, even the bookmark you'd recently bought. All of them are assorted neatly into his drawer. All duplicates, of course. His diligent hand picks up the perfume bottle, the liquid ebbing on the glass surface as he tilts it in the sunlight. Your birthday's coming up soon. He's also recently caught wind of your favorite flowers – this time by accident. His prickly ears manage to pick up the particularly interesting conversation you had approximately 16 days ago, when you mentioned the recent Sumeru Rose body lotion you'd just bought. Although, he's not blind. He's observed the twitching of your hands towards the Lumidouce Bell scented bottle that was recently imported. You had to draw your hand back by force due to the price. Your birthday's coming up. He managed to get a look at the price after you left dejectedly with the one you were talking about.

His fingers press and spritz the perfume over his clothes. The fabric must have practically shaped themselves to the drops of the perfume from how often he's sprayed it in the same place, but now his closet smells like you. Perfumes last longer than lotion, he thinks. He should just get you a different perfume, instead. The merchant sold Lumidouce perfumes, too. Your birthday's coming up. The fact repeats in his mind. Should he get you a card? No, that's not enough. He saw you recently pick up a romance book. Unfortunately for you, it's a series, and the last he's heard about it – is it has deadly cliffhangers. He'll probably gift you the next volume.

He feels a slight tug of a smile on the corner of his lips, his fingers sliding over the vast collection of books, landing on the stiff spine of a book. He's already bought it in advance. Should he sneak in a small card in there? That would be better. If he remembers correctly (which he always does); you should have half the day off on your birthday, and you plan on spending it with your friends and family. He'll give it to you before you clock out. Maybe, he thinks, if his words sift through well enough, he'll manage to squeeze himself into your guest list. So, for the time being, he thinks up certain conversation topics for today, and the next day, and so on until your birthday. By rough estimates, you'll be familiar enough with him to invite him just shy of a day or two before. The door of his room clicks as he leaves.

The Akasha had not much use to Alhaitham until he realized the significant potential it had after that Cyno-prediction system those sages crafted up. He manages to tinker in his own study enough to make a special version of you. And so far, it's 100% accurate. He can already visualise you on your way to work, and the conversation he has in mind. Your responses are crafted skillfully by the device in his head, before you even think about uttering them.

[transmutationisms]

in addition to being prone to an obvious naturalistic fallacy, the oft-repeated claim that various supplements / herbs / botanicals are being somehow suppressed by pharmaceutical interests seeking to protect their own profits ('they would rather sell you a pill') belies a clear misunderstanding of the relationship between 'industrial' pharmacology and plant matter. bioprospecting, the search for plants and molecular components of plants that can be developed into commercial products, has been one of the economic motivations and rationalisations for european colonialism and imperialism since the so-called 'age of exploration'. state-funded bioprospectors specifically sought 'exotic' plants that could be imported to europe and sold as food or materia medica—often both, as in the cases of coffee or chocolate—or, even better, cultivated in 'economic' botanical gardens attached to universities, medical schools, or royal palaces and scientific institutions.

this fundamental attitude toward the knowledge systems and medical practices of colonised people—the position, characterising eg much 'ethnobotany', that such knowledge is a resource for imperialist powers and pharmaceutical manufacturers to mine and profit from—is not some kind of bygone historical relic. for example, since the 1880s companies including pfizer, bristol-myers squibb, and unilever have sought to create pharmaceuticals from african medicinal plants, such as strophanthus, cryptolepis, and grains of paradise. in india, state-created databases of valuable 'traditional' medicines have appeared partly in response to a revival of bioprospecting since the 1980s, in an increasingly bureaucratised form characterised by profit-sharing agreements between scientists and local communities that has nonetheless been referred to as "biocapitalism". a 1990 paper published in the proceedings of the novartis foundation symposium (then the ciba foundation symposium) spelled out this form of epistemic colonialism quite bluntly:

Ethnobotany, ethnomedicine, folk medicine and traditional medicine can provide information that is useful as a 'pre-screen' to select plants for experimental pharmacological studies.

there is no inherent oppositional relationship between pharmaceutical industry and 'natural' or plant-based cures. there are of course plenty of examples of bioprospecting that failed to translate into consumer markets: ginseng, introduced to europe in the 17th century through the mercantile system and the east india company, found only limited success in european pharmacology. and there are cases in which knowledge with potential market value has actually been suppressed for other reasons: the peacock flower, used as an abortifacient in the west indies, was 'discovered' by colonial bioprospectors in the 18th century; the plant itself moved easily to europe, but knowledge of its use in reproductive medicine became the subject of a "culturally cultivated ignorance," resulting from a combination of funding priorities, national policies, colonial trade patterns, gender politics, and the functioning of scientific institutions. this form of knowledge suppression was never the result of a conflict wherein bioprospectors or pharmacists viewed the peacock flower as a threat to their own profits; on the contrary, they essentially sacrificed potential financial benefits as a result of the political and social factors that made abortifacient knowledge 'unknowable' in certain state and commercial contexts.

exploitation of plant matter in pharmacology is not a frictionless or infallible process. but the sort of conspiratorial thinking that attempts to position plant therapeutics and 'big pharma' as oppositional or competitive forces is an ahistorical and opportunistic example of appealing to nominally anti-capitalist rhetoric without any deeper understanding of the actual mechanisms of capitalism and colonialism at play. this is of course true whether or not the person making such claims has any personal financial stake in them, though it is of course also true that, often, they do hold such stakes.

[candycandy00]

I was literally salivating when I saw your 2k follower event (congratulations btw!!!) and had to send this. Your writing is fucking amazing and I can't wait to read more of your stuff!

Character: Dabi

AU Setting: Monster Forest

Spice Level: NSFW

Mood: Light

Kinks: Breeding and size difference

Blood Moon Rising - A Dabi x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. AU. Dabi as a werewolf. Fem Reader. Breeding. Size difference. Werewolf related biting/blood. 

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! Any feedback/comments/reblogs would be loved! Dividers by @benkeibear!

You run through the forest at top speed, branches and twigs scraping your legs, tearing your dress. The night air is crisp and cool against your face, though the rest of your body is sweating beneath the layers of satin and lace. Above you, the full moon glows an eerie red. Blood moon, they call it. 

On nights like this, he hunts. 

You hear leaves crunching behind you, sticks snapping in the distance, an otherworldly howl among the trees to your right. A creature like him could attack from any direction. That’s how fast he is. 

You should’ve known better than to try outrunning him. Your weak human legs can only carry you so far, so fast, before they lose strength. Your fatigued feet catch on an unearthed tree root, and your body tumbles to the cold, damp ground. You’re lying on your stomach, panting, trying to get to your knees at least, when you hear him directly behind you.

Turning your head slowly, you look back. Even in the dim, red tinted moonlight shining through the trees, you can see him clearly. He’s taller than a normal human, his body toned but lithe beneath the thin layer of solid white fur. His face is mostly human, but with a slightly elongated nose and mouth, rows of razor sharp teeth visible in his grin. His eyes are a bright glowing blue, like two burning sapphires. His long fingers are tipped with terrifying claws that look like they could shred steel. 

You roll over so that you can face him, still lying on the ground. 

He stands over you, a low rumbling growl emanating from his throat. “I agreed to stop hunting the villagers since you volunteered to be my prey,” he says in a ragged voice, “but you’ve gotta make it worth my while, doll.”

You look up at him with a pouty expression. Touya is your childhood friend, one you fell in love with in your teenage years and have wanted to marry since you both hit adulthood. But you’ve never had the courage to confess your feelings. You might flirt with him, but so far he’s either oblivious to your intentions or is purposely ignoring them. 

When he admitted to you that he’d been bitten by a werewolf and now turns into one on every full moon night, you were of course very worried. He has dubious control over himself when transformed, and a powerful urge to hunt and feed. He killed several of the people in your village, though he targeted specific individuals. A man who was known for beating his wife. A woman who made phony medicine and sold it at exorbitant prices to sick, desperate people. A man who raped a young girl and received no punishment because he was the richest man in the village. 

But Touya was running out of bad people to hunt, and twice he was shot at by terrified villagers. So you approached him with an idea. He could hunt you, chase you through the woods and get it out of his system, and you would count on your long friendship to keep him from killing you. 

The first time, he clawed your leg, and the sight of your blood spilling brought him back to his senses. He clearly felt terrible about it. The second time, he almost bit you, but was able to hold himself back. The third time he tore your dress, almost ripping it off you before he got himself under control. You’re not sure what he intended to do, but you suspect his urge to mate is stronger in wolf form too. A part of you wished he would have kept going. 

For the past few times, his control has generally been better. Not always, but usually he just chases you down, catches you, and then the hunt is over. 

Tonight, he caught you faster than ever. There’s a strange gleam in his eyes that’s usually not there, and from his voice you can tell that he’s struggling to maintain control. Could it be the blood moon? Is it making his wolf instincts stronger? 

“Sorry,” you say, still on the ground, leaning back on your elbows. “You were too fast tonight. Are you okay?”

His eyes are moving over you, and it sounds like he’s breathing a little harder. “I’m fine. It’s just… the urges are really strong tonight. Maybe you should get back to the village.”

“But you’re not satisfied, are you? I can run again. Just tell me what to do to help.”

His shining blue eyes widen slightly. “Doll, you don’t wanna know what would help me right now. Just go home while I’m still in control.”

You stare at him, at the muscles flexing beneath the soft white fur. He’s wearing nothing but ripped black pants. God, you want him. You can’t satisfy his urge to kill, but maybe you can satisfy a different urge. 

While looking him in the eyes, you reach down and slowly slide your dress up your legs, revealing your thighs. 

He seems to stiffen, his eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

“I want to help you. If using my body will calm the urges and keep you from attacking the village, I’m okay with it,” you tell him. You don’t say it out loud, but you’re afraid he’ll be shot at again. 

He scoffs. “You don’t know what you’re offering. I’ve never done anything like that in this form. What if I lose control? I could hurt you.”

“I don’t mind,” you say, pulling your dress higher, bunching the fabric at your waist and showing him your lace panties. 

The pupils of his lovely eyes seem to shift, looking more like long slits than circles. His clawed hands flex and clench at nothing. “We shouldn’t do this,” he mutters, sounding extremely unconvinced of his own argument. 

“Let me satisfy your urges,” you tell him, opening your legs. 

He’s breathing hard and fast, his eyes looking completely inhuman now. “Fuck… I’m gonna rip you apart and devour the pieces!”

With that alarming statement, he lunges forward, his larger than normal werewolf body suddenly upon you. His claws make short work of your dress, reducing it to useless strips of shredded satin that cover nothing. Only your thin panties remain, a pitifully flimsy barrier against his animalistic strength. He tears them off before you can even blink. 

You’re equal parts thrilled to finally have the man you love on top of you, and terrified that you’ve made a mistake and he’ll literally eat you. But when his hands begin exploring your exposed flesh, you notice he’s being careful to avoid injuring you with his claws. Even though he’s in his most beastly state, looking crazed and out of control, he’s trying his best not to hurt you. 

His mouth is on your neck, licking and sucking the rapidly bruising skin before moving down. He makes a wet, hot trail down your body, tasting various parts of you, until he pauses between your thighs. His eyes flick up to your face, and you look back at him with flushed cheeks and parted lips. You buck your hips from the ground just slightly, an encouraging gesture. 

He grins, showing off entirely too sharp teeth, and then his head dips down to taste your sweet nectar. You moan, your back arching reflexively as his warm tongue massages your clit. You feel the edge of a tooth, not biting, probably accidentally scraping over you. The thought of this being that hungers for your flesh having his teeth so close to your most tender place excites you. 

“So fucking delicious,” he murmurs against your skin. 

Your hand moves down to sink into his soft white hair, and you can feel the silky fur of his body brushing over your bare thighs. “Ahh… Touya!”

He pulls away, leaving you breathless as he tears open his already frayed pants. You try to get a good look at his cock, but in the darkness of the forest you can only see a vague but massive shape as he pushes your knees up toward your chest. And when he pushes it all the way inside your tight, dripping pussy, you can feel the velvety fur around the base of it. 

It’s a painful stretch, but his movements are careful, surprisingly controlled, even as he pants above you. His hands are on the ground beside you, his claws digging into the dirt, his eyes gleaming with predatory lust as he looks down at you. His thrusts begin slowly, but gradually become faster when your arms wrap around his neck. He’s reaching the deepest parts of you, all the while growling softly. 

Suddenly, the growls grow louder, and you realize he’s almost snarling. You look up to find him baring his teeth. His mouth opens, lunges down toward your shoulder, but stops before biting. He pulls back to look at you guiltily, but doesn’t stop thrusting. 

“This is dangerous,” he says. “You should be afraid of me, so why do you look so…”

He doesn’t finish the question, his eyes staring into yours. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” you tell him, hands on his face. “I’m in love with you. I have been for years.”

You hear his breath hitch, see a light pink blush cover his face as his eyes look away from yours. “D-don’t tell me shit like that when I’m buried in your pussy! Gonna make me lose what little control I have!” But then his eyes shift back to you, and in a voice so low you barely hear him, he says, “I feel the same way. Always have.”

His cock pulses inside you, and you clench around him in response, making him growl again. “Touya,” you moan, “bite me!”

“What? I can’t do that! If I bite you, you’ll be like me!”

You look up into his glowing eyes. “I want to be like you! We’ll be werewolves together! We’ll hunt each other and mate under every full moon!” You feel your own pleasure building as you speak, like you’re on the edge of a cliff, about to fall over. “Oh god, I’m close, Touya!”

He growls again, his instincts battling with his emotions. Then he yells, “Fuck! This is gonna hurt like hell, so don’t blame me!”

In the same instant you cum around his cock, spasming beneath him, he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, tearing the flushed skin. You feel warm blood pouring from the wound as you tremble through your orgasm. Touya’s tongue laps at the ripped open flesh, his teeth still bearing down. You scream, from the pleasure and the pain, your arms clutching him. 

You hear him moan as he tastes you, and he thrusts in so incredibly deep as he cums inside you, filling you to the brim.

His teeth finally release their hold on your shoulder and he pulls his face away but remains inside you. He stares at the wound, and a mixture of guilt and arousal flash through his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” he asks. 

You move your arm slowly, and feel a stab of agony in your shoulder. “Ahh, how long does it hurt?!”

“For me it was a few hours. Then it healed like magic.” He leans forward and gently licks the wound. Strangely, it actually seems to help. “We should bandage it though.”

At this point he pulls out of you and climbs off, looking slightly awkward. “I hope you’re sure about this. There’s no going back now.”

You raise up on your elbows. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”

His eyes rake over your nude body, then he holds out his hand to you and grins. “That’s good, because you’re stuck with me from now on.”

You laugh as you take his hand and let him pull you up by your uninjured arm, eager to begin your lives as two werewolves in love. 

Tags:

@doumadono 

[spocks-kaathyra]

thoughts about the Cardassian writing system

I've thinking about the Cardassian script as shown on screen and in beta canon and such and like. Is it just me or would it be very difficult to write by hand?? Like.

I traced some of this image for a recent drawing I did and like. The varying line thicknesses?? The little rectangular holes?? It's not at all intuitive to write by hand. Even if you imagine, like, a different writing implement—I suppose a chisel-tip pen would work better—it still seems like it wasn't meant to be handwritten. Which has a few possible explanations.

Like, maybe it's just a fancy font for computers, and handwritten text looks a little different. Times New Roman isn't very easily written by hand either, right? Maybe the line thickness differences are just decorative, and it's totally possible to convey the same orthographic information with the two line thicknesses of a chisel-tip pen, or with no variation in line thickness at all.

A more interesting explanation, though, and the one I thought of first, is that this writing system was never designed to be handwritten. This is a writing system developed in Cardassia's digital age. Maybe the original Cardassian script didn’t digitize well, so they invented a new one specifically for digital use? Like, when they invented coding, they realized that their writing system didn’t work very well for that purpose. I know next to nothing about coding, but I cannot imagine doing it using Chinese characters. So maybe they came up with a new writing system that worked well for that purpose, and when computer use became widespread, they stuck with it. 

Or maybe the script was invented for political reasons! Maybe Cardassia was already fairly technologically advanced when the Cardassian Union was formed, and, to reinforce a cohesive national identity, they developed a new standardized national writing system. Like, y'know, the First Emperor of Qin standardizing hanzi when he unified China, or that Korean king inventing hangul. Except that at this point in Cardassian history, all official records were digital and typing was a lot more common than handwriting, so the new script was designed to be typed and not written. Of course, this reform would be slower to reach the more rural parts of Cardassia, and even in a technologically advanced society, there are people who don't have access to that technology. But I imagine the government would be big on infrastructure and education, and would make sure all good Cardassian citizens become literate. And old regional scripts would stop being taught in schools and be phased out of digital use and all the kids would grow up learning the digital script.

Which is good for the totalitarian government! Imagine you can only write digitally. On computers. That the government can monitor. If you, like, write a physical letter and send it to someone, then it's possible for the contents to stay totally private. But if you send an email, it can be very easily intercepted. Especially if the government is controlling which computers can be manufactured and sold, and what software is in widespread use, etc. 

AND. Historical documents are now only readable for scholars. Remember that Korean king that invented hangul? Before him, Korea used to use Chinese characters too. And don't get me wrong, hangul is a genius writing system! It fits the Korean language so much better than Chinese characters did! It increased literacy at incredible rates! But by switching writing systems, they broke that historical link. The average literate Chinese person can read texts that are thousands of years old. The average literate Korean person can't. They'd have to specifically study that field, learn a whole new writing system. So with the new generation of Cardassian youths unable to read historical texts, it's much easier for the government to revise history. The primary source documents are in a script that most people can't read. You just trust the translation they teach you in school. In ASIT it's literally a crucial plot point that the Cardassian government revised history! Wouldn't it make it soooo much easier for them if only very few people can actually read the historical accounts of what happened.

I guess I am thinking of this like Chinese characters. Like, all the different Chinese "dialects" being written with hanzi, even though otherwise they could barely be considered the same language. And even non-Sinitic languages that historically adopted hanzi, like Japanese and Korean and Vietnamese. Which worked because hanzi is a logography—it encodes meaning, not sound, so the same word in different languages can be written the same. It didn’t work well! Nowadays, Japanese has made significant modifications and Korean has invented a new writing system entirely and Vietnamese has adapted a different foreign writing system, because while hanzi could write their languages, it didn’t do a very good job at it. But the Cardassian government probably cares more about assimilation and national unity than making things easier for speakers of minority languages. So, Cardassia used to have different cultures with different languages, like the Hebitians, and maybe instead of the Union forcing everyone to start speaking the same language, they just made everyone use the same writing system. Though that does seem less likely than them enforcing a standard language like the Federation does. Maybe they enforce a standard language, and invent the new writing system to increase literacy for people who are newly learning it.

And I can imagine it being a kind of purely digital language for some people? Like if you’re living on a colonized planet lightyears away from Cardassia Prime and you never have to speak Cardassian, but your computer’s interface is in Cardassian and if you go online then everyone there uses Cardassian. Like people irl who participate in the anglophone internet but don’t really use English in person because they don’t live in an anglophone country. Except if English were a logographic writing system that you could use to write your own language. And you can’t handwrite it, if for whatever reason you wanted to. Almost a similar idea to a liturgical language? Like, it’s only used in specific contexts and not really in daily life. In daily life you’d still speak your own language, and maybe even handwrite it when needed. I think old writing systems would survive even closer to the imperial core (does it make sense to call it that?), though the government would discourage it. I imagine there’d be a revival movement after the Fire, not only because of the cultural shift away from the old totalitarian Cardassia, but because people realize the importance of having a written communication system that doesn’t rely on everyone having a padd and electricity and wifi.

[oleander-nin]

For the sentient bot au (rottmnt)

How would they react if their darling was able to crochet? Like every time they we’re watching the show, they’d be a little distracted with making a plushie or a piece of clothing. Would they be jealous that they aren’t paying attention, or if they bring them to their universe would they ask them to make something for them?

A/N, not important: This was super cool to write because I do a *lot* of needle work lol. I knit, crochet, sew, embroider, etc. I did headcannons for this, mostly because I didn't know how to write this as a proper fic and it's easier to get back into the groove. Apologies for my absence(and the fact this was requested back in September of 2023). Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me. - Ollie

CW: Stalking, being watched without your knowledge, sentient show characters, obsession, yandere themes, dark themes

Words: 849

Summary: You crochet, oblivious to the constant eyes on you.

Mikey:

He thinks what you do is absolutely charming. Whenever the screen flickers and they can gaze back, he loves to watch you work. He admires the deftness of your craft, even going so far as to see if he could pick it up too. He sees it as a great way to bond. Whether he succeeds or not in picking up the needle work as well doesn’t matter much to him. He’s just delighted you’re a fellow artist in your own right.

He loves to design patterns for blankets or create his own unique stuffies for you to bring to life. He wants to bring his own touch into your work, to try and intertwine the both of you as much as possible. What better way than to combine your hobbies?

Obsesses over what you make to see if he can figure out what you like. He’ll take note of the colors you use, of whether you kept what you’ve been working on or gave it to a friend, or even sold it. He’ll see if you make more stuffies or sweaters, whether you prefer blankets or hats. He’s internalized every choice you’ve made, from the yarn fiber you prefer to where you most often work on your hobby.

Donnie:

Watches you in interest. He finds your hobby interesting and calming. He loves seeing your fingers curl around the yarn and how your hook moves so smoothly. It’s almost soothing to him, so much so he’ll do anything to keep watch. Home security system? Donnie can find a way to weasel his access from just your streaming devices to every electronic in your vicinity. He wants to keep an eye on you, and see what else you create.

Keeps a lot of knitted and crochet works for you to try and match what you have in your home. He’ll collect sweaters, blankets, stuffies, pillows, and anything in between that happens to be made via needle craft. He wants to make the lair seem more at home to you, and what better way then to find every sensory pleasing work he can?

Glad you have a hobby so you’re distracted while they work on bringing you ‘home’. Having you so focused on your work, while at times hurtful, makes their plans to cross the interdimensional barrier a lot easier. The less you pay attention to them, the more they can plan. Of course, once you’re actually in his arms that’ll change. He’s not fond of being ignored.

Raph:

He’s ecstatic about it. He thinks it’s incredibly cute and uses it to solidify his image of you being some soft, fragile soul. He’ll internally coo and croon over you whenever they’re able to look back at you, eyeing your newest project with interest.

Raph has a lot of respect for your craft, especially since he’s tried to knit before. He hopes you’ll be able to teach him and let him work with you. He can hardly wait to snuggle next to you while you explain the steps to him.

He can’t help but hope for you to make him something when you’re finally able to come ‘home’. He wants to add your personal handiwork to his collection of stuffed animals. He’ll put it on his top shelf where no one can mess with it, only taking it down to cuddle on special occasions. It’ll be his pride and joy, something for him to treasure immensely.

Wanting to make it easier on you, he’ll start looking for patterns to give to you, some for when you’re finally with them and some for Donnie to nudge in your direction online. He’ll find yarn and hooks, creating a giant collection just for you. He wants to show you his love, show you that he can give you everything you need and more.

Leo:

Thinks it’s sweet. He can’t help but view it in a cutesy way, no matter what you make. He sees it as part of your charm, knowing you at least have a hobby to keep you busy when he’s away. He just can’t help but wish you wouldn’t do it when you’re supposed to be watching him.

Leo wants you to pay more attention to him. As much as he adores your hobby, he despises how you only seem to do it when you’re watching them. You never give him your full attention, never have your eyes on the screen for the entire time he is. It makes him seethe inside. He’ll make sure to fix that habit once he has you in his arms though.

He always feels a bit bitter when you give something away in front of them, knowing he’d never be able to hold that piece himself. He wants nothing more than to hoard what you make. He can’t help but assume whoever you gifted something to is taking advantage of you. You shouldn’t give away your handiwork, especially when you could save it for him! He plans on finding everything you’ve made when they’re finally able to break the barrier between worlds to take you.

Tag list: @f1oricide @itsyagurlchip @lordfreg @acutiewithagun @rottmnttmnt2012 @lixnininotnay @lexiechr @ssak-i @rottmntsimp

[anandrettisimp]

Okay, so I need to do a bit of a ramble about one of the biggest couple goals in recent motorsport.

I am, of course talking about Will and Liz Power

Now you’ve gotta understand that they basically started at Team Australia/Walker Racing within a couple of months of each other with Will doing the last two races of the ‘05 Champ Car season and Liz joining as part of the PR team in February ‘06. They had met and interacted but it wasn’t an easy start for Liz.

You see, between Long Beach and Houston, which was to be the first race she would attend in person, her Dad, Bo, had a stroke and required quadruple bypass surgery. It was only at the last minute that she felt she could do the race only just making it in time for the team bus leaving for the airport.

Will sat beside her, making sure she was okay (apparently all he really wanted to do was hug her).

Eventually Liz was asked by team boss Derrick to befriend Will for two reasons:

He basically knew nobody

Australian media wasn’t happy that Australian driver at Australian back team wasn’t dominating series he had only just started in.

Part of the way Derrick sold this to her was by describing Will as a lost puppy but, at the same time, she wasn’t to date Will or she’d be at risk of losing her job.

Well within a couple of months they were dating because what do you expect when you take two people in emotional vulnerable situations and tell one of them to get close to the other.

It should be noted that around the same time Will had already asked mutual friends if Liz was seeing anyone.

Simon Pagenaud knew from the start and was even Will’s wingman from time to time and helped them hide the relationship while Liz’s family became part of Will’s rock in America. Liz’s mum Kathy is Will’s PA lady and basically the only person he trusts to buy and choose his outfits (cause left to his own devices you will know he is colourblind).

Of course it got found out but between how well Will was doing by the end of the season and how professional Liz had been in her role all was good.

Over time their careers would split, Will moving to KV Racing then Penske (with Liz being heavily involved in helping him prep for the interview) while Liz had stayed with Walker Racing until the end the going on to Dreyer & Reinbold Racing before calling time as she found it was too much to do PR at one team while your husband races at another.

And, honestly, if I was a racing driver’s partner I’d probably be in a similar state to Liz, murdering all the bottles.

Their son Beau, named in honour of Liz’s dad who had sadly passed away in 2007, was born in 2016 but after the birth there were complications which resulted in Liz having to go back into hospital in Christmas Eve, luckily she was able to recover.

Towards the end of 2022, as Will won the championship for a second time, Liz again was starting to get ill. Come January 2023 she had a fever of 106 and Will had to call an ambulance.

It turned out that she had a staph infection that had settled in her spinal column and the only way to save her was to do an operation.

She almost didn’t make it.

Will pulled out of the Daytona 24 but he almost retired full stop.

He had to be there for his family.

She got better though she was back in the hospital just before St Pete.

I think you had to be an idiot to not see that Will was off balance last year. This was a man who was doing everything he could to take care of his wife and then going to races by himself.

The support system that he has depended on since his first full season racing in America was gone.

For the first time since 2007 he failed to win a race.

It wasn’t until the final races last year, with Liz finally back that he relaxed. He even said he was just happy the season was done.

This year everything is back to normal or as normal as it could be after going through something like that.

But, most importantly, Liz is back.

There’s already been a couple of weekends, be it after practice, qualifying or the race where you can see Will come out of the car hot and all it takes is Liz being there a couple of words and he calms, ready to speak to the team and media.

We already know if Liz hadn’t gotten better when she had then we don’t have Will leading the championship right now because he would have chosen her and Beau over another season.

Heck, if he wins the championship this year I wouldn’t be shocked if he decides to end his career on that high so he can spend more time with the one who stood by him through it all.

[sirfrogsworth]

Grampa's Antique Fan (2015 vs 2024 Edit)

As a young man, after coming home from the Second World War, my grampa got a job as an electrician for Emerson Electric. He didn't work on the actual electrical products. He just maintained the electrical systems that power the tools to make electrical components.

It was a "I heard you need electricity for your electricity" type deals.

The company was founded in 1890 in nearby Ferguson, Missouri by John Wesley Emerson. He was a Union commander in the Civil War and a lawyer and then a judge and then an author and then a historian... so he was clearly qualified to run one of the first electronics companies. (This is currently referred to as the "Law of Elon".)

Emerson (the company, not the dude) specialized in electric motors and was the first to stick their motors in a fan and sell them.

As you can see by the 4 protective fan guard loopies, these were very safe for kids to be around.

I mean, the biggest thing you could shove in there is a baby arm, which is the least important part of a baby. No baby heads were chopped off—which was the bar for consumer safety during that era.

Fans are rated by the volume of air they can push over a period of time and your average box fan can push about 1400 cubic feet per minute or "CFM". When this Emerson (the fan, not the dude) was produced they actually used "CCH" or cubic cubits per hour. Emerson (the dude) loved using odd standards of measurement much to the chagrin of his engineers.

Due to the small surface area, weak angle of attack, and heavy metal blades, this electronic beast could only push a baker's dozen cubic cubits per baker's hour—which was a confusing metric of time because people were very superstitious and they refused to put the 13 on the baker's clocks. They just left a mysterious blank void after the 12 and apparently several people had existential crises during the baker's hour. Some were institutionalized for a rare condition called Time Delirium.

Thankfully Emerson Electric was able to provide the electroshock therapy devices that cured several patients. This was achieved by erasing the memory of the traumatic time delirium events along with a few other unimportant details like what they did last Tuesday and their mother's name and one engineering degree that the guy wasn't even using.

My dad actually got the fan working and let me tell you... that bad boy could really work up a gentle breeze...

...if you stood behind it and blew.

And that fine American-made electric fan motor was just as quiet as a leaf blower on Saturday morning.

Over the last century, Emerson was bought and sold and bought and sold.

And bought and sold and bought and sold.

Was that 7?

Eh, close enough. We'll call it a baker's 7.

They changed their product line countless times over their 130+ years of existence. After fans they pivoted and made electric meat grinders. To this day, no one know what inspired that decision.

Currently, they make radar avionics and are majority-owned by the private equity firm, Blackstone. Which is a totally non-evil sounding name they chose for their company-eating empire. Please ignore that the CEO was one of Trump's policy strategists. This is a non-evil company with a non-evil name run by non-evil people, okay?

Despite Emerson Electric having to settle a baker's gross of lawsuits involving a few lightly scalp'd babies, they maintain a Fortune 500 status and are still headquartered in Ferguson.

They occupy one of the most boring ass buildings ever constructed.

Just rectangles all the way down.

That architect told every angle to get rect.

Of course, I forgot all of this cool history and sold this fan in the estate auction. I suppose it is a good thing I got a nice photograph to help assuage my current feelings of guilt. I mean, it is not baby scalping, time delirium guilt—but I would feel better if I knew my gramp-gramp's fan was in a good home with 0 babies.

[elljayvee]

today's topic: that fucker RoundUp

It's time for more Don't Believe Everything You Read with me, elljayvee!

A friend encountered this the other day: 

This contains a lot of false information and should not be spread around as true. It's scaremongering in the first half and almost entirely wrong in the second half.

I will state my credentials and biases up front: I am an inactive Penn State Master Gardener (which means I have all the education and credentials, but am not currently an active volunteer), I have a permaculture design certificate and an active permaculture garden on my property, and I'm an agriculture & food systems researcher. I also fucking hate RoundUp (aka glyphosate), which I think is very bad, especially at industrial scales. I pretty much think all agricultural inputs have serious problems at industrial scales; RoundUp isn't special. In general, and particularly for home-scale or small-scale ag use, I prefer non-chemical controls; in my own garden I use manual control for all weeds except for poison ivy and tree of heaven, for which I use 2,4-D foliar herbicide. 2,4-D is also pretty nasty stuff, but I use it because unlike RoundUp it's very widespread in my environment already -- some of my neighbors have their lawns sprayed and that's what the lawn companies use. Me spraying a stray tree of heaven once a year isn't even a drop in the 2,4-D bucket of the block. 

Let us take these pieces of Wrong Information from back to front!

Dish soap: people love dish soap in the garden. Just love it. There's mixed evidence on what it can do in the garden but it's completely ineffective against weeds -- the reason it's so popular in garden applications is that it doesn't harm plants. How is something that doesn't harm plants going to be good weed control? Answer: it isn't. It does nothing against weeds. The one thing dish soap is proven to be good at is assisting with aphid control -- the best aphid control is manual/physical control, like blasting aphids off plants with water, and dish soap assists with that and also seems to do some damage to the aphid. Any other pest control involving "soap" almost certainly means "insecticidal soap", not dish soap. 

Takeaway: Unless you're trying to control aphids, don't use dish soap in the garden. (And make sure it's dish SOAP, not a detergeant. In the US, original Dawn is the go-to.) For anything but aphid control, you're just wasting soap.

Salt: No. This is bad. It will definitely help kill some weeds, but it's a bad idea. Don't put extra salt into soil. It's bad for the soil and for the inhabitants of soil; it's bad for water. One cup of salt isn't going to kill a river or a stream or whatever but if you're worried about killing animals, let's just say that poor innocent things like amphibians and worms do not do well in hypersaline environments. Do not use table salt like this. 

Takeaway: Leave table salt out of your garden altogether. You're just wasting salt, messing up soil, and hurting animals.

Vinegar: This is completely fine. Depending on the species of weed you have, it may work very well indeed. However, household white vinegar is only about 5% acetic acid, while horticultural vinegar -- which is sold as a weed killer commercially -- is 20% acetic acid, and works MUCH better on a MUCH wider variety of weeds. It also seems to work best when it is mixed with canola oil. Horticultural vinegar is not as safe for your skin/eyes/etc. and you should follow the safety instructions on the bottle when you use it. If you would like some more information on how well vinegar works to control weeds, you may enjoy reading "Impact of Acetic Acid Concentration, Application Volume, and Adjuvants on Weed Control Efficacy" (Webber et al. 2018). 

Takeaway: Household vinegar in the garden is fine and may work for some species of weeds. Horticultural vinegar works better. Follow safety information when using it. 

Now for RoundUp (aka glyphosate). 

RoundUp will kill pollinators, bees, hives: I will include all invertebrates that seem affected by RoundUp spray in this category. There is good evidence that AT INDUSTRIAL SCALE, RoundUp negatively affects pollinators and other beneficial invertebrates, such as pest-controlling spiders. When applied to a broad area in heavy concentrations, it seems to have lethal effects (particularly in bees who ingest it or come into physical contact with it), and it also seems interfere with reproduction in some bees, wasps, and spiders.

"Is glyphosate toxic to bees? A meta-analytical review" (Battisti et al 2021) is a good meta-analysis about toxicity to various bee species. (It is paywalled, sorry -- but some of its sources are not.) This analysis found that it's easy for bees to get a fatal dose from pollen from sprayed flowers, physical contact with sprayed flowers, or ingestion of nectar from sprayed flowers. At individual garden scale, you are extremely unlikely to harm more than a few individual insects unless you're doing something very weird, like, I don't know, pouring a whole bottle of RoundUp over your patio, or specifically filling flowers with drops of RoundUp. 

Takeaway: In general, I recommend not using RoundUp in your garden. If you do use RoundUp, snip off flowers from the weeds or do not spray the flowers, to avoid pollen contamination and lower the likelihood of bees touching the RoundUp. I strongly suggest instead using manual controls, which is what I do -- I weedwhack and hand-pull weeds (again, with the exception of poison ivy and tree of heaven). 

RoundUp will kill your pets and kids and you: In general, not unless your pets, your kids, or you drink it. This is how it kills mammals: a mammal drinks it. There is some evidence of toxicity to amphibians, but again, this is at industrial scale and high concentrations, not a household preparation used on like 5 weeds in your patio. There is conflicting evidence on whether or not glyphosate is carcinogenic in humans, but the risk -- if it exists -- seems at this point to be low and probably mainly affects agricultural workers who are regularly exposed to a LOT of the stuff.

Takeaway: Secure RoundUp from pets and children. I personally keep garden chemicals in a padlocked plastic box in the garage. If you are suicidal and may drink RoundUp, call your area's suicide prevention hotline or ask someone for help. If you are an agricultural worker regularly in contact with glyphosate in the environment your best resource is probably United Farm Workers (in the US), your local farm workers' org, or La Via Campesina (which is an international farm workers' organization that has taken a stand against the widespread industrial use of glyphosate). 

If you would like to read more about RoundUp toxicity, try: "Glyphosate Poisoning" (Bradberry, Proudfoot, and Vale 2004) and "Glyphosate: A review of its global use, environmental impact, and potential health effects on humans and other species" (Richmond 2018) -- this one is particularly useful because it collates a LOT of research together in one place, so you can get to many, many other articles from it. 

General takeaways: You should take precautions if you use RoundUp not to hurt bees in your garden, but you are unlikely to hurt anything larger than invertebrates if you do use it. Do not use random weedkilling formulas involving random household items in your garden. In particular, dish soap and salt have almost no good garden uses at all and if someone tells you to use them, they are probably misinformed at best. There is a lot of complete bullcrap out there on the internet.

If you want to use organic controls for stuff in your garden, which lots of people do, a good place to start is the OMRI lists. Items on these lists are approved for organic use in the US or Canada and free to download. You can also look for information from Extension in the US about organic controls and home gardening advice; county extension is government-funded and provides a wide variety of free educational material about gardening, forestry, agriculture, etc.