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sparklepocalypse · 8 months ago

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20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks to @cha-melodius, @kiwiana-writes, @anincompletelist, @orchidscript, @myheartalivewrites,

… aaaaand @firenati0n for the tags! (This five tags per line thing really is for the fucking birds, y’all.)

How many works do you have on AO3?

106 works and counting.

What’s your total AO3 word count?

461,281 😱

What fandom(s) do you write for?

Currently? Red, White & Royal Blue, and RWRB RPF.

Historically? Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel the Series, Queer as Folk, Supernatural, That One Fandom With The Wizards and the Bigoted Creator, Smallville, Glee, and a handful of other RPF fandoms.

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Even though, IMO, kudos are a poor metric of the quality of a fic…

What’s Symbiotic will Always Be | RWRB | Alex/Henry | E | 2.6k words — my Kinktober 2023 breeding kink fic.

Be Worthy Love, and Love Will Come | RWRB | Alex/Henry | E | 30.8k words — my epic childhood friends to lovers AU.

Wrap Me Up, Unfold Me | RWRB | Alex/Henry | E | 4.3k words — my mile high club smut inspired by one of Hann’s incredible art pieces.

Take it Down Low / Make Me Get High | RWRB | Alex/Henry | E | 2k words — my Kinktober 2023 rimming fic, which has been described as that rimming fic.

I’d Wanna Be Held By You, Felled By You | RWRB | Alex/Henry | E | 2.3k words — my lake house smut inspired by Henry sharing Alex’s clothes.

More under the jump to save you a scroll!

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I’m horrendously behind, but I promise I’ll catch up one of these days… I hope.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

We’re just gonna focus on my RWRB works here so I don’t have to dig too far. I don’t really do truly angsty endings in this fandom, but I did write one piece with an open-ended ending:

Back, Bring it Back | RWRB | Alex/Henry | T | 1.2k words

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It’s a toss-up between two of them, so have them both!

Single Sad-Sack Seeking Same | RWRB | Alex/Henry | E | 7.7k words, and

Count to Ten & Breathe Real Deep | RWRB | Alex/Henry | E | 8.1k words

Do you get hate on fics?

I have had an anon throw a tomato emoji at one of my fics, which still stuns me. I used to get significantly more hate when I was writing in more problematic fandoms… 😅 but if you want to read the fic where Alex bottoms for the first time, and I got this comment, where they not only flung produce but also… felt the need to censor the word “top” for… reasons:

… then you should read In the Low Lamp Light, I was Free | RWRB | Alex/Henry | E | 3.1k words, which is my take on what happened with that second condom wrapper in the Paris scene.

Do you write smut?

Oh, fic meme creator, this is the cutest, funniest question.

Do I write smut? Hilarious.

What’s your craziest crossover?

Speaking of smut — I don’t really write crossovers, but I’ve written a few monsterfucking or monsterfucking-adjacent fics:

If We’re Caught in a Wave, I Will Carry You Over | RWRB | Alex/Cecaelia!Henry | E | 5.9k words

Just Let the Night Go Down | RWRB | Alex/Henry/Oviposition Toy | E | 2.2k words, aaaaand

All the Ocean was Sleeping | RWRB | Alex/Siren!Henry | E | 6.4k words

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge. Fic (and fandom) are pretty reductive though. For example, I know that there’s someone writing a King Henry AU for @aroyallybigbangrwrb, and I’ve been working on my own King Henry AU since last September. There will probably be some similarities; can’t be helped. I’m not worried about it though, unless there are wholesale chunks of paragraphs that are somehow magically identical.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I don’t believe so, but I have a blanket permission statement on my AO3 account, so if someone wanted to translate my work I’d be down!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Eons ago, I used to co-write Kurtofsky fic in the Glee fandom. Pretty sure all of those works have been lost to the ether, as this was before AO3 was absorbing archives as they went kaput. I’m not completely heartbroken about it.

All time favorite ship?

Darcy/Elizabeth from Pride and Prejudice. No, I’m not kidding.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a couple really old WIPs from previous fandoms that I put a lot of work into, and then the ADHD took hold before I could complete them. It would be interesting, at the very least, to revisit these. Maybe retool them into something usable for this fandom, IDK.

What are your writing strengths?

Making people absolutely collapse in a heap of devastation with my angst, as @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @kiwiana-writes, and @ad-astra13 will attest; smut with “multiple different positions laid out in such detail you can almost see the gifs used as reference,” according to @bigassbowlingballhead. I also like to think that my spicy trauma makes me pretty funny.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Brevity — given the option, I’d rather write 5k words than a drabble every time. I also really struggle with saccharine sweetness and fluff for the sake of fluff, despite what y’all keep saying in my comments section; my sweetness is always bittersweet. And kidfic gives me the ick, as the youths would say, even if I’m the one writing it.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Yes! Just make it something that I can Google Translate and I’m good.

Which fandom was the first you wrote in?

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, way back in the 1990s. (Yeah. I’m that old.)

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

So, I have two. My favorite fic overall is my King Henry AU, Facing Tempests. I affectionately refer to this fic as KHIX (King Henry IX) and The Big Giant AU, and it’s my baby. I’ve commissioned some really incredible art from @seanchaidh7 for Facing Tempests that I can’t wait to share with y’all when the fic is ready to post.

My favorite published fic is If We’re Caught in a Wave, I Will Carry You Over, for which I commissioned some absolutely stunning art from @artofobsession which is now embedded in the story on AO3. There are several other fics that come close, but octoHenry is my beloved.

My tag is always open! Because this meme has been out for a couple days, I’m not gonna cold call anyone, but if you’re reading this, yes you with the clenched shoulders and the mild headache from staring at a screen, then consider yourself tagged!

#red white and royal blue #my fic #fic memes #tag games

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shonenkun309 · 8 months ago

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Koga's Birthday story card 2024 :

[Translation] (not an accurate translation)

@just-somehuman @the-bird-and-the-flute @kogasimp1 @colourless-hydrangeas @randomf2p @blackmond11 @girlinthetardis04

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Part 1 :

...May 7th is the birthday of an important person.

Futaba : "Happy birthday, Koga."

Koga : "Oh, thank you."

I came to Koga's house and enthusiastically handed him the lunch box I had brought.

Futaba : "I made this. Please try it if you like."

Koga : "Oh, it looks delicious."

Futaba : "I've included the side dish you said you liked before."

Koga : "I'll take it then."

Koga happily eats my lunch.

(Tonight is Koga's usual party with the rest of the Ayakashi)

Until then, I had come to Koga's house in the afternoon so that we could spend some time together.

Futaba : "Is there any place you want to go after you eat your lunch? Shopping, going for a walk, anything?"

Koga stopped using his chopsticks and looked at me.

Koga : "let's just stay at home."

Koga's hand gently rested on mine, his eyes suddenly narrowed as he looked at me.

Koga : "I just need you."

Futaba : "Koga..."

Just hearing those words fills my heart with joy.

Koga : "Futaba..."

I looked back at Koga, and my face gradually got closer to his...

(I feel happy...)

I closed my eyes at the premonition of a sweet kiss, and at that moment I thought our lips would touch.

Masanobu : "Koga-niichan! Happy birthday!"

Futaba : "...!"

Koga : "...!"

We suddenly pulled away from each other when we heard a voice coming from the front door.

Masanobu came to celebrate Koga's birthday.

Masanobu : "Oh, Futaba-neechan is here too. Hello!"

Futaba : "Hello, Masanobu."

Masanobu entered the living room and happily turned to Koga.

Masanobu : "I made this, it's a gift for Koga-niichan."

Koga : "These seem like a sturdy looking menko*, thank you, I'll cherish it."

Koga smiled as he accepted Masanobu-kun's gift.

Masanobu : "niichan, are you busy lately? Please train me in kendo again."

Koga : "Okay, next time."

(Masanobu really likes Koga...)

As I watched the interaction between the two with a smile on my face...

Kanji : "Hello, this is Kanji from Kanemotoya."

Another voice came from the front door. The person who came was Kanji, the current owner of Kanemotoya shop, a glass wholesaler in Asakusa.

Kanji : "I happened to be nearby for a delivery...and there I heard that it's Koga's birthday, congratulations."

Koga : "Thank you, how are businesses going?"

Kanji : "Thanks to you, I managed... You look like you're doing well."

Koga : "Yes, I'm glad you're doing well too."

Kanji, who I met through a small incident a while ago, is also familiar to me.

Kanji : "More importantly, you like sake, right? If you like this, please."

Koga : "This is good sake. Sorry for the trouble."

As Koga received the sake, another voice came from the entrance.

Visitor : "Excuse me."

(Wha- again!)

After that, guests continued to come in one after another-- Before I knew it, many people had gathered in the living room.

(In the blink of an eye, the number of people had increased. Gifts came one after another...!)

Kuya : *Yawn* ...Huh?

Kuya, who had apparently been sleeping in his room, wakes up and tilts his head as he looks at the living room.

Kuya : ...I thought the party was gonna be at night?"

Futaba : "That was the plan, but..."

People came one after another to congratulate Koga, and it had already turned into a party.

Visitor : "Congratulations,Mr. Koga! After all, the Capital needs someone like you, young Kitamikado."

Koga : "Haha, I'd be happy if you're serious about it."

(I'm happy that so many people are celebrating with Koga. I guess this means our plans to spend time alone together are over)

I was looking forward to it too, so I'm a little sad about that.

(Koga is really popular, isn't he?)

Kuya : "Well, I guess this is normal, but..."

Kuya seems used to it, and turns his back to the living room with another yawn.

Futaba : "Eh, Kuya, where are you going?"

Kuya : "The house is too noisy, so I'm gonna take a nap somewhere else."

Futaba : "Wa... wait!"

In a panic, I grab the edge of Kuya's kimono.

Futaba : "At least, Kuya, please stay here."

Kuya : "Why?"

Futaba : "Because I don't know many people here... I'll feel lonely."

Kuya : "It'll be fine if you just act casually, right?"

Futaba : "It's not fine...!"

As I was desperately trying to hold back Kuya, Koga came over to me.

Koga : "Sorry, Futaba."

Futaba : "Koga..."

Koga : "I didn't mean to leave you alone. I'm really sorry."

After saying that, Koga faced the people in the living room.

Koga : "Sorry everyone, that's it--"

(!)

(Koga, you're trying to send the guests home for me...)

Suddenly, I grabbed Koga's hand to stop him.

Futaba : "Koga, it's okay!"

Koga : "...?"

(That's right, I'm not the only one who wants to celebrate Koga, we've always celebrated like this with the people of the Capital)

I held Koga's hand and stared at him.

Futaba : "Please don't worry about me. They've all come all the way here to celebrate you."

Koga : "Yeah, but..."

Visitor 2 : "Excuse me."

While Koga was hesitating, a new voice came from the entrance.

Futaba : "Come on, go!"

Koga : "Ah...ha"

I pushed Koga's back and sent him off with the guests.

(I'd be lying if I said I wasn't lonely...but this is fine.)

Kuya : "..."

Kuya, who was watching us from the door, muttered softly.

Kuya. "...You're having a hard time too."

Futaba : "Eh?"

Kuya : "Nothing."

Kuya : *Yawn*

Kuya yawned again, as if it's nothing to do with him.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Part 2 :

That night, after all the guests who had come to Koga house had left.

The six of us, Koga, Kuya, Aoi, Ginnojo and Yura, were at a restaurant in the entertainment quarter.

Aoi : "...Eh, so you were partying just now? Does that mean this is your second banquet today?”

After I told him the story, Aoi put his hands on his hips in exasperation.

Ginnojo : "When you're as well-known as Koga, even your birthday is a big deal."

Ginnojo pours sake into Koga's sake cup.

Koga : "Well, I'm grateful for that."

Koga gulps down the sake with gusto.

Yura : "I can't ignore the feelings of the people celebrating... By the way, this is a gift from me."

And with that, Yura unfolds the furoshiki cloth he brought with him.

Kuya : "Oh, kintsuba.*"

Yura : "Recently, I've really liked Eitarou's kintsuba**. This is delicious. I can't stop eating it."

Kuya : "Well, let's get started."

Aoi: "Hey, this is a gift for Koga, not you."

After scolding Kuya, Aoi glances at me and Koga.

Aoi : "Well, birthdays are important days for both the person celebrating and the person being celebrated."

Kuya: "..."

Kuya, who had been listening to this, swallowed his kintsuba and looked at me.

Kuya : "What about you?"

Futaba : "Eh?"

Kuya : "Did you celebrate with Koga?"

(Ah...)

Somehow, I could tell what Kuya was trying to say and that he was trying to give me a push.

Koga : "Of course. She was the first one to--"

Futaba : "Um... Yes!"

I boldly interrupted Koga.

Futaba: "But... please, give me some time to celebrate again later."

Koga: "..."

Ginnojo & Aoi : "..."

Yura : "..."

Kuya : "..."

Everyone fell silent for a moment.

Aoi : "Ah, yes yes."

Eventually, Aoi spoke up as if he understood.

Aoi : "In other words, you two didn't have time to celebrate alone, right?"

Yura: "In that case, you should celebrate again just the two of you. I'll eat this kintsuba."

Ginnojo: "Don't worry about us."

Futaba : "Well, I don't mean right now..."

Koga: "Guess I'll do that then."

Koga stands up, looks at me and holds out his hand.

Koga : "Come on, let's go."

For just a moment, I looked back and forth between Koga's outstretched hand and Kuya and the others-

Futaba: "Yes!"

Savouring the joy, I took the hand.

After leaving the restaurant, we returned to Koga's house by carriage. In stark contrast to the daytime, the living room was completely silent.

Koga : "I'll go make some tea, so you can go to my study."

Futaba : "Yes, thank you."

As instructed, I came to Koga's study by myself.

(...what should I do? I'm starting to get anxious now)

As I was alone in the quiet room, a sudden feeling of guilt overwhelmed me.

(I know Koga was worried about me earlier, but I'm sure he likes lively places too, I guess I said something unnecessary after all...)

It started to seem wrong to have cut everyone's time short.

Koga: "Futaba?"

When Koga came back, he saw me with my head down and called out to me.

Koga : "What's wrong, Futaba?"

Futaba: "...Koga... I'm sorry."

I apologised to Koga without being able to lift my head.

Koga : "Sorry... what do you mean?"

Futaba : "Well, I think everyone wanted to celebrate you, Koga. I was being selfish..."

Koga: "..."

Futaba : "--Wah"

Then, before I could finish, I was grabbed around the waist and lifted up.

Futaba: "K... Koga?!"

Koga: "Hey, don't move."

Koga makes me sit at the desk and bends down so that our eyes are at eye level.

Koga: "So, who's being selfish?"

As he looks at me from so close, my heart beats sweetly.

Futaba : "Me..."

Koga: "They were okay with it, so it's not selfish at all, I'm happy I can finally enjoy you."

Futaba: "..."

Koga's gentle voice made my heart lighten a little, and I smiled.

Futaba: "Hehe, Koga, you're so popular it's a bit of a problem."

Koga: "It's a great birthday to hear such a cute line from you."

Koga smiled as well, and we gazed into each other's eyes.

Soon that wasn't enough, so I gently grabbed the edge of Koga's kimono.

Futaba: "Koga..."

Koga: "...Oh, that reminds me, I was going to have to put it off."

As if remembering, Koga gave me a light kiss.

I feel a little sad as he lightly touches me and then quickly leaves me.

(Is that it...?)

His words had shown on his face...

Koga : "...Ha, haha..."

Koga laughed out loud and leaned in close again.

Koga: "Hey, that face is sneaky."

Kouga: "When did you get so good at begging?"

Futaba: "N-no, that's not true."

Suddenly feeling embarrassed when he said it out loud, I quickly denied it.

Futaba: "But..."

Noticing my cheeks getting a little warm, I stare intently at Koga again.

Futaba : "If that's the case, then it's your fault, Koga. It's because you're so mean to me."

Koga : "Okay, okay, let me try again."

Futaba: "Hmm..."

Koga smiles and covers my lips with a kiss again.

Futaba : "Koga..."

Koga: "Yeah, I'm here --Now, I'm yours alone."

We kissed each other countless times, spending a sweet night together–

{The End}

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Menko : Is a Japanese card game played by two or more players. It is also the name of the type of cards used to play this game. Each player uses Menko cards made from thick paper or cardboard, printed on one or both sides with images from anime, manga, and other works.

Eitarou : a neighbourhood located in the Taito ward of Tokyo, Japan. It is known for its vibrant atmosphere and rich cultural heritage.

Kintsuba : Kintsuba cake is a traditional Japanese cake that originated in the Edo period (1603-1868). It is made from a sweet and fluffy sponge cake, filled with a rich and creamy custard filling, and then covered with a layer of smooth chocolate or caramel glaze.

#ayakashi romance reborn #ayakashi koi meguri #ayakashi koga #ayakoi #koga kitamikado #kitamikado koga #ayakashi kuya #arr ginnojo #ayakashi toichiro #ayakashi shizuki #ayakashi rr #koga you gorgeous mf☠️

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reservoirreputation · 1 year ago

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Teaser for my ResDogs fic, posting on AO3 10/1

Title: 'Birds in the Spider’s Nest' (end of chapter one)

tags for the teaser: canon typical violence, canon typical language, implied child abuse

1974

Vic Vega is led into a nice office, where two men already sit. Spotting him being escorted by the henchman, they both stand. The man behind the desk is the infamous Joe Cabot, and, if Vic plays his cards right, his future boss. The guy is tall, imposing, reminds him a bit of a bulldog. The guy in front of the desk, next to the empty chair meant for Vic, seems to be the complete opposite; he’s quite short, but stocky. Much younger than the big guy, and actually looks quite kind. Vic notes to watch his back around this one; kindness was always an ominous sign, as far as he’s concerned.

Joe gestures for him to sit, then gives his attempt at a smile, “Mr. Vega. You come highly recommended. Your brother has nothing but good things to say.”

“A miracle, really.” is his dry reply, because Vic and his brother rarely get along.

“Maybe he thinks you’re qualified, maybe he just wants you to get some work and fail miserably. Either way,” he looks up and down at Vic’s imposing height, “You’ve got potential. You interested in interning?”

It’s the most exciting thing to happen to Vic in years, “Sure.”

“This here’s Larry Dimmick.” The man to Vic’s left gives a polite nod, a slight smile, like he knows he’s gotta handle him with kid gloves, “He’ll be your mentor.”

The first week of on-the-job training is interesting, to say the least. The first day was nothing but talking and driving, meeting some people in very public places, making small talk while Vic waited in the car with the windows rolled down. The next two days involved even more driving, but with Dimmick going into various buildings; houses, apartments, small businesses. Again, Vic not allowed anywhere near the conversations. Day four of being on his best behavior, Dimmick looks over and says, “If you can keep your mouth shut you can tag along for the next meeting.”

Vic doesn’t respond with anything more than a nod.

‘Meeting’ turned out to be a shake down, with some associate being behind on payments. Three months worth. Vic could feel dread build in the pit of his stomach, but still wears his best poker face. He’s been pretending he doesn’t give a fuck about any awful thing since he was ten, this would be no different. So, when Dimmick and another heavy grab the bastard’s arm, smacking his hand on a flat surface, he’s expecting to see broken fingers. When Dimmick gets out a knife, instead, Vic can’t help but look away.

The sound of steel cutting through flesh and bone will haunt him just as much as the man’s screams.

As the weeks wear on, Vic’s exposed to more of the inner workings of the business. He meets various employees, most of whom are very out of the loop about Joe’s activities. It’s a silent lesson; the people around you only know as much as you allow them to. The debt collectors don’t need to know the same things as the accountants, despite how connected the two are. The wholesalers don’t need to know everything about the dealers, and they’re meeting one such of the latter, right now.

Larry’s a protective sort, despite being much shorter than Vic. Every new face Vic comes across, Larry insists on leading, physically keeping Vic behind him. So, when they meet a pot dealer named Matty, also a short fuck, Vic just feels like an overgrown freak.

Larry doesn’t quite like Matty. That much is obvious. Later on, Larry will say to him that not many people do, because Matty’s a bit of a screwup. The initial meeting, though, the guy seems quite nice.

The dope dealer is about Larry’s age, maybe younger. He has light brown hair, a thin face. Skin is freckled and pale, and eyes a striking green. He wears jeans ripped at the knees, a loose t-shirt and an even bigger plaid button-up over this, like the guy’s permanently wearing someone else’s clothes. He stinks a bit of pot, but of the good stuff. His expression is tired, like he doesn’t get enough sleep. Like he doesn’t get enough of anything. Where Larry comes across as being in control, Matty seems like he’s just along for the ride. Vic can’t help but see part of himself in the dealer, the kind of instant connection when you see someone who’s the same kind of fucked up as yourself.

#reservoir dogs #fanfic #ao3 #writers #writing #teaser #promo time baby

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disorder-rat · 2 years ago

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"What is patriotism? Is it love of one's birthplace, the place of childhood's recollections and hopes, dreams and aspirations? Is it the place, where, in childlike naivety, we would watch the fleeting clouds, and wonder why we, too, could not go so swiftly? The place where we would count the miliard glittering stars, terror-stricken lest each one "an eye should be," piercing the very depths of our little souls? Is it a place where we would listen to music of the birds, and long to have wings to fly, even as they, to distant lands? Or the place where we would sit at mother's knee, enraptured by wonderful tales of great deeds and conquests? In short, is it love for the spot, every inch representing dear and precious recollections of a happy, joyous, and playful childhood?

If that were patriotism, few American men of today could be called upon to be patriotic, since the place to play has been turned into factory, mill and mine, while deafening sounds of machinery have replaced the music of the birds. Nor can we longer hear tales of great deeds, for the stories our mothers tell today are but those of sorrow, tears and grief.

What, then, is patriotism? "Patriotism, sir, is the last resort of scoundrels" said Dr. Johnson. Leo Tolstoy, the greatest anti-patriot of our times, defines patriotism as this principle, that will justify the training of wholesale murderers; a trade that requires better equipment for the exercise of man-killing than making of such necessities of life as shoes, clothing and houses; a trade that guarantees better returns and greater glory than that of an average workingman.

Gustave Herve, another great anti-patriot, justly calls patriotism a superstition - one far more injurious, brutal, and inhumane than religion. The superstition of religion originated on man's inability to explain a natural phenomena. That is, when primitive man heard thunder or saw the lightning, he could not account for either, and therefore concluded that back of them must be a force greater than himself. Similarly, he saw a supernatural force in the rain, and in various other changes in nature. Patriotism, on the other hand, is a superstition artifically created and maintained through a network of lies and falsehoods; a superstition that robs man of his self-respect and dignity, and increases his arrogance and conceit.

Indeed, conceit, arrogance and egoism are the essentials of patriotism. Let me illustrate. Patriotism assumes our globe is divided into little spots, each one surrounded by an iron gate. Those who had the fortune of being born on some particular spot, consider themselves better, nobler, grander, more intelligent than the living beings inhabiting other spot. It is, therefore, the duty of everyone living on that chosen spot, to fight, kill, and die in the attempt to impose his superiority upon all the others. The inhabitants of the other spots reason in like manner, of course, with the result that, from early infancy, the mind of the child is poisoned with blood-curdling stories about the Germans, the French, the Italians, Russians etc. When the child has reached manhood, he is thorougly saturated with the belief that he is chosen by the Lord himself to defend HIS country against the attack or an invasion of any foreigner. It is for that purpose that we are clamoring for a greater army and navy, more battleships and ammunition. It is for that purpose that America has within a short time spent four hundred million dollars*. (13 billions in today's money) Just think of it - four hundred million dollars taken from the produce of the PEOPLE. For surely, it is not the rich who contribute to patriotism. They are cosmopolitans, perfectly at home in every land. We in America know well the truth of this. Are not our rich Americans Frenchmen in France, Germans in Germany or Englishmen in England? And do they not squander with cosmpolitan grace fortunes coined by American factory children and cotton slaves? Yes, theirs is the patriotism that will make it possible to send messages of condolence to a despot like the Russian Tsar, when any mishap befalls him, as President Roosevelt did in the name of HIS people, when Serigus was punished by the Russian revolutionists.

It is patiotism that will assist the arch-murderer, Diaz, in destroying thousands of lives in Mexico, or that will even aid in arresting Mexican revolutionists on American soil and keep them incarcerated in American prisons, without the slightest cause or reason.

But then, patriotism is not for those who represent wealth and power. It is good enough for the people. It reminds one of the historic wisdom of Frederic the Great, the bosom friend Voltaire who said: "Religion is a fraud, but it must be maintained for the masses."

Emma Goldman, Anarchism and Other Essays, Patriotism: A Menace to Liberty

I wholeheartedly recommend you reading the essay in it's entirety. It is but a 6 pages long, but contains many useful insights on the matter.

#book quote #quotes #anarchy #anarchism #antinationalism #antifascism #antifascist #emma goldman #goldman #book recommendations #philosophy #society

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ruins-of-gods · 10 months ago

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Most dinosaurs we understand, at least on a fundamental level. There's a lot of blurry details, of course, but the physiology of T. rex makes sense. The life that Triceratops led is beautiful and strange, but still relatively understandable.

But sauropods? Sauropods are insane.

As OP mentioned, these things are VAST. The largest land animals ever by a truly significant margin, large enough to be more akin to buildings or landmasses than animals. Why did they get that big? To an extent, it's to hold a giant digestive system, but that's circular reasoning - a sauropod wouldn't need a giant system if it weren't already huge. It provides protection from predators, but again, most predators large enough to need to avoid that way only got that big to better hunt small sauropods. Why in the world does this animal need to be the size of a house??

These animals travelled in massive herds across continents. A giraffe, the closest thing there is to a modern ecological equivalent, is a relatively solitary selective browser, but sauropods lived in groups of tens or hundreds of animals. They must have needed literal tons of vegetation every single day to support their sheer scale. Every one of those animals needed the equivalent of a pickup truck, every single day, stripped off the landscape wholesale along with hundreds of other animals doing the same thing. How is it possible for there to BE that much plant matter? Large sauropod herds must have crossed continents, in the way that whales do oceans, just to find enough food to keep moving.

And that neck. Why does an animal need a neck two or three times the length of its body? It expands the cone in which it can feed, but severely limits its food intake per bite, and must have needed an inordinate amount of lubrication to actually swallow. And sheer muscle mass as well - if something gets stuck in a sauropod's throat, that sauropod is dead unless it can quite literally squeeze it out (it almost certainly can neither cough nor vomit). Same with breathing - breathing through a tube is remarkably inefficient, and sauropod lungs must have been colossal simply to deal with the forty-foot gap between themselves and the air. Why? We know that sauropods would have used a thru-lung, much like modern birds, directing the air through sacs in the bones which helped conserve weight, but that doesn't help the problem of getting it there. Not to mention its brain. Brains don't like things like changes in blood pressure or rapid acceleration, both of which would have been constant issues with a neck that size, as it moves up and down and the heart quite literally has to change how it beats in order to get blood up the neck without increasing the pressure too high. How did it cope with that?? How did its heart cope with doing that??? How did it not pass out just from raising its head too fast???

A baby sauropod would have grown from the size of a human hand to its adult size in three to four years. That's insane. It would have to grow at a speed rivalled only by bamboo to even begin to achieve that. Where would it get that much food and nutrients? We know young sauropods would have followed the giant herds, which explains some of it, but that only passes on the problem to what the giant adults would have been eating to keep themselves functional at that kind of size.

If all that were a one-off specialization, fair enough. Weirder things have happened. But the fact that sauropods were successful? That members have been found across the planet across basically the second half of the Mesozoic? This absurd body plan somehow worked, and we barely understand how, much less why.

Tl;dr: Sauropods are weird, completely unlike anything we have today, and their paleobiology and paleoecology range from obscure to surreal. Wtf even are these things.

y'all ever think about how insane the sauropods were

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libidomechanica · 3 days ago

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Untitled Composition # 13066

A curtal sonnet sequence

And yet’ I said methinks me your heart, yet could not all, as parts, now the clear of cold and the margin of nonentity? Like moonbeams that you would know what he gets, come hither, come hither, come hindmost, holds her servants were to consort with God’s creatures to mend your love. ’Nous snake where shall have spoken, loved accents on mine ear. Over seas at rest but yonder: ’ then snatched, and how she blush’d: Euphelia frowned: I sung and blush it thro’ me?

Dissemble, with sullen-seeming trust, and the evening, till she doth spring from the soldier will have to isolate th’ Anatomie of all wants: because a like enough, my friend, we trust their way again while I was not her virtue’s image, that heart, where all that was merely thereat shotte. So dire a sadness sat on every hour gave to isolate th’ Anatomie of all wants or age deprest, reclined his heart.

The long-wish’d-for end, full to the skies. The mournful family! The cause herself, a nations in proportion deep, and the name of her image pure? Children, come hither, come hindmost, holds his golden beak to the man, of white; and thinner, clear raindrops in your Ford Cortina I will pass his daughters of the more spell. For her beauty appear in its deadly black. Some have done, by staying; come, my Corinna’s triumph was almost pure.

Looked not for brake, as it grew, for Oh! Must without end, my wavering under the tide, so this fair surpasse, most sweet a breathe? Of a harsh terror, darkly; but the envious night: devotion gives its ease, and they take the Spring-time, fresh the narrowed name: euphelia’s praise her mourned. In the hill- side—and I am white blaze of moon on the starry head of grandmother wars, beside their native East. The lark does rustle in twain.

There is a flower salesman. Or broke? Back, and die as calmly as a thousand years, I recommenced; Decide not eternal, infinite numbered nothing. But Sylvio, when you can’t forget you and your best friend; for well she knew him, if he was their thankful Hymnes: tis so: for wholesale commends to miss. The circular arguments, or art thou bring companion, mystery and mountain, dark cedar, tho’ I can find none!

To your coat that was the realistic? Her back again, as if here wine is spilled on two postulates a that should be her lips, pass the colors just as young, although I know that makes his eye behold the applause of eyes that roars between us throw mildly away, with which arise from nobler course. He added, lest some other words euen in the story as his fatal work had been my holy care. Body of skin, on all.

Lady Mary Ann looks at the night-birds flie, and treated like a bee, love gentle in twain. Cramped under the powers many a little while and bring whom, SPIRIT fair, thy soul the shore, and bright eye shining in the records of continence, tho will tell me what it will Oothoon pluck’d the faint maid, because I seen, as if it had hayled. Was whispers first line threshold? You Gods, delights of the soul prey’d on by woe, the news became.

The wind, deepening beaches, up the appointed on the giver of gifts too harsh kisses come down to me, who mad’st the colors just as blithe and high rocks thrown us free under your though, full of a piece with the violent. Go not, alas, nor could not been! Meantime be mute: the sea-beasts, and I love, and laid him from above; give them well: but children save each street in such a deuil wants or age deprest, blush it thro’ the vale. So she went.

For still, still rubs his heart. She will hear the preuie to those they turn in you, and their end, thoughts and cry: hope’s perish, if ever the mone of their call, or the waves on a joyless and ear! With only Fame for such and so forget: the tinklings of our house: the woman’s breast a fiecer Gripe doth misse; that Ice strait melted into the death, who see with busy care will come away, come hither, come hither: cast on the morn blushed rosy red.

The sea; and he went halves before all delight, when she did not found the cavern with them forth? The rising sun I find the fire, or moths shall be crushed until he can. The dim and we must content, I loved their lips just as it rose: the charmed! Mix my sighs: and I, betwixt the take the placed or unplaced by the nightingaling thus a Noodle heard her close their pattern still to pitie my discontent to your hung aloft the dying flame!

Sat a Lover, raving none, he rode all alone. Sir, I was gone to bring comfort her; and up we came? I fill my Delia dawns, more lovely maid’s of royal right have danced in a thousand hymns and death his care, and the winds that I dare not the little think good though false speaks a Memnon smitten with honey’d rain and debauchery, with nets found the power to be conversation when he to Heaven the lute is brought ye forth.

A hall such a martyrdom. And brought as a cane that entirely must restored, reincorporated, body restore that blown about her wheel of false and bring out of books, but the wife, the Blooming Morne upon her wings presence. She said i’m going’; lit a taper, bowed her to dress the night: they know the placed or unplaced by those night in laps of pleasure he’d come—so sure I do. My paine still, to that kiss and latent in health!

If you ain’t watching. The bones of heaun it beares; makes my circle just, and lose you the fruit that will we little ones moan; long prayer. The rising quietly, disrobed the bell! And so live in vain; for that can see but parts, now that my sheepe would dedicate my poor soul! Ago, and found among them any harm, alas, her ear, when springs to yellow autumn, and when first time I held your heart? She bowed as it had hayled.

The worst: never, she cried, are you so too; yet Faith still of chilling, murder, I will morning sun I find in all her glory sat she her self, is nothing upon my face; the bright? There be prophet to forget: the know my head till more fast his burthen lay of all God’s infliction, and bright, but soft the dying hearts; but most of prophecy; for yet, my friend: as swelling was, and then heaven of generous, bloody trial,—alas!

That one of our immortal flies, a race of giants living hound, and groans of buried dust of living in. Reminiscent of beasts nor birds unknown—trees, as it could find a fortune strait melted, and woe that creep from thee, Eliza dear, the mart wherefore man was. If I should tire of prayer; heaven, I think me some do see, through opposition crabbed and reluctant moon back to back in Bromion’s rage, that are no more!

Though not as the blind below. That nobody can love that lives only at night and many-headed bench, that leave my friends like a trumpet’s call! My most illustrious Lord, I know a heart. How to make the same; myrtle thee, and over with an equal spirit affords in polish’d form of well- refined, she gave me once and virtue higher by the Heart. May only multiply her Image round it: not awed to the Yes of thee.

A violet by a mossy stone half hidden from thou gavest it, else mistake is now cleaves the state of the night to turn the flaxen lilies, than before her feet whisper, and in what he gets, come hindmost, holds more than the Lark, to fetch in May. But, Delia, more dear. Heard him, but sweetest throbbed to overflow. Like callow birds in bushes tooting: at length this the one about barbers as I wait. But now that sweet Albany.

Would we go with heavenly minds may suit. The clear prime; and wisely choosing, for she thought or forbidding tree, and its pure virgin joy and bright see our own; revolts, republics, revolutions, most no graver sure it with the light. She not pluck them from my morn, wet was its only instrument of pearl. And the mind, for I so truly sympathized in that aimest wide of Pallas: Hebe shamed! Bliss, who taught a fawn to hunt his dear.

Fatal to me she would an entrance by her loues Authority, wild me the rosy banquet loves have been lilies I have should hindred be. And never a hall such a martyrdom, to the empty space; down, over bright? Wide of spreads his rank before, which thou to-morrow, ere this, however, the axil, the garden rails, and all this sun and mould thy death deprived of bodies and hoary, dark; till the original, twas she.

The beam that brings; then they rode and earth of light increasing sound; I grant I never wish’d them all one anatomic. Myrtles offer’d up to the dews of the crowd were bow’d down toward his dear delight can never start from high, left me far away, ’twould stay, for the margin of nonentity? Of two bodies how the sky; proud, shall forlorn worlds, beyond all the day and let me tell you, girl, ruby-lipp’d and came these is lovely maid!

Your lips and how soon things. Can create the pleasant tales of that be sin which is next Heaven, and not, that I might be better that lent my bow, or a drop of hem, soft and more lovely, lovelier emerald plane sits Diotima, teach us equally the pulse and cold with a shriek’d, and very face of wo painted in the dust lies dead when my love doth amaze; they to hand ambrosia, mix the news around, feed in the mind.

Of your sisters’ liberties. The maid that I fed, I contemplate between us and ovens and daisy, salvia lyrata … oh goodbye to bloom in the dust lies dead when my love so much refined, that we hae seen, and trimm’d with Loues Standard beare: what, he! A child of Bromion said, that indefatigable Pen in celebration sweet, where my eyes are about the workman and his Heart—now twist it in that buds and light.

And one fine morning did her close their space. Of pure and we gazed awhile and he with a single act of immolation, bliss on bliss, who taught us, as they felt their owne woe; so ample eares were spilt in such delight in silence, ev’n without in the East, to the Yes of the Hesperian tast surpasse, most sweeten so a boy I sought availed: he was all, in time, when you surrender, and she lovely maid! When out of tune.

For her bones: mought ne gang on the room. ’ Th’ fire. All, all of the streams to shame. Such her destiny control; yet with its too lavishly are place where yet ’tis sweet hours of charity, that envise all, a creeping too; but to one she not only had preserve thy memory stole into the Indies, my Mary, across the new soft fallen mask of purple was not more fast his dear delight as a child! And oh, Sirs, could there!

And the next was death: one sigh did her all. The silver, or of furious gold. That full hear the orange, and frog eyes and feel a certain moment of beasts, looke loue lo Stella know my heart; or having spoke them wich in fixt hearts should play. In that shine for its mystery. Shamed that hardly needs and proved so fast? Alas your great torments you do not go gentle men! Get up, get up, sweet as Flora. The burthens binde. The rose I lay.

Made to attract his eyes swim across bronze to bend&curve against a pillar in the basest clouds run slow, slow, then loue in her breast. He cried, return, years so tender, and in my ear, there is not puffed up, doth not its own, is not her, not her, but a child yet in the sweet hours of charity. I missed him o’er these fools admires the first begun. As parts, now echo, assonance; his touching than her liable to Nature, laughing.

And, from the eyes loue through the green, gilding pale streamlet’s limpid lapse to think it thee. Keep with thee the mind were in a narrow sea which it was as sure, as the Heaven of her nest, coming grief he bore his light, open to joy and girl will mock thee from some suspect, a crow that, and make one act at one she not only crossed, but even to have here increase, did fret, and the children, would have we not marries flower, and the light.

So let us call; for their Cakes and keep his heart. Sweet the temple where new doubts honour brings; then com’st thou, O thought alone like help! Unwilling friend, you never a word, o come away, ere mortal in his economy, and some suspect of ill mask’d not for that ruled Albion hears me nothing more than dust! Should Love, like the ox to thy defect, for souls that wake to bring company instead of her Cheek would weep for a flight?

One who opened them both, and she knew, before mayst without a whispers in my mother��s bed; the rose I lay. I long woo’d of time; for I so truly round. Goodbye, goodbye to bloom in Mrs. I find great Master’s train of Musk lay three times of Demon, Ghost, and the same loving kiss, life of my widow’s head as he held me upon her cheek or the fruitful tree, nor do I for all the Muses’ heads were to glow between her way.

Tis like innocence and half far-shadowing from the Hesperian tast surpassing by would stab the park putting on Latin King gold like the copses, out and in the priest; shut stands them all in all in the shells before Alexandria was, straight thy shadows dire. Coral is far more in Heaven had the church on thornes; so many eyes, O eares of true life to the abhorring against a pillar, here, observing?

For the mother tucked in the happy day go in and debauchery, within herself three times of some say than man was heard, one universal sound: and yet the caverns where yet his eye discern the piece; the burden still. And teach you bout the night, that Theotormon broke his side: but we possessed their wanton play in love, it profiteth me not, till the dead seaman’s knell. One touch to her securely rest: to unbosom a thorn!

But I am dead, for pity let a tear in her, sought in? By slow approaches, than before. And even: from off my should be dear call once yet! She bowed her here increased. Rosy is the one about the one POU STO whence after-hands may move the same loving me some boy and tosse in the forests, castle wa’, she sees him err: nor woe, nor nourish’d by. There is a crime; where the same loving troubled stream that I would I hurt her?

As music than the gree, who now comment. Fatal to me she may, but for she was the while thilke same loving troubled stream, where the door. ’ He added, lest some other words, which shake the taper down she sinned in this world’s wide eye and the wheel in the wing doth make death, for then broad daylight her up. Since from whose passe-praise a glass half water, that Ice straitened by his reflection in her eyes, do crown thy murderous five days’ white.

In years later, I’m youngest sate on her dying of the secret walls what was inseparable is nothing: might fear himselfe, or else stands: not Pallas: Hebe shamed! But were immortal wrong; and the might last she did but dropping, wear my breast: so subtly is the South, a witless youth, where such but whether there be light of their motives were stirs a quiet pain for unremember you played and redder than they resist it so.

Shall be when thou art all inertial frames is the horrible! The breezes reinvigorate dormant desert shore. My lyre I tune, my voice before the beauteous spring against the infinite microscope, the light did trembling hypocrite modesty, this disgrace, so piercing phrases so heau’nly hye? And white v-neck t-shirt on your setting dark moved like a snowgirl, a buttercup under a cov’ring to dissembled.

When heavens high, left me his fawn, and the acting lethargy, the patient sleeps—the pillar; we saw Sir Walter said, on that be sin which did show of louers neuer more paine. The rising sun in water the snow- limb’d Eve from us and lies by my sighes stolne out, or kild before her mourned. Among their lutes did she loathes, and Heaven had heart, while thy bliss, maud made ourself, foresee the cause of eye, ear, mouth, outdrank the garden!

Blush to tell the grass, and is e’en woe the door; she was she soon exhaled, and of monster, others’ to abound; ascribed above the meadow and faintly blowing round him with cold floods of old, thy granting? And sat on, so much refineth, o birds unknown, not unperceiv’d, spread, and hopest her safely might last night widely spread, and groans of buried dust of desire, that nothing? Sits Diotima, teaching him then; now thee for one?

Here lies you turn to go, whilst I sing Euphelia’s praise. A future Roman race, and the phantom-woman in the very face to face the make ready at the human heart there stirs a quiet nest, coming town, far off everybody loved in the way lips have once more her mouth is a goal. Over thighs, thick within. But Theotormon sits upon those vapour streak the rest. Scarce would stab the passport is his indulgence to obey.

I offer for its grace, some please, to blush, and in woe along the river, the lingering moment or broke? Oft sees they were soft as a spinning world in mock heroic gigantesque, with ever-after, all, all of the year to follow: surely unto Thee mine ears, that pretence. The dove, but doth, if th’ other to thee. But it is winters sorowe, and take the world’s gay busy throng, and take the iawes of hot and her face.

Children—that men may pluck thee as the too rejoice in the bay. Look the crowned, thou dove- like her, thought patience, ’ I replied: Pluck thee, when the hills. I erred in true plain word and for the morning did flow. And curst the breathing of the stories are two souls are just as fine, the weird vision smoulders all these blessed light, cliff-tops, seas where with broom, and onely cherish doth part from the basest clouds run slow, slow, the woman’s His hands in the earth.

Which yet with pain— surely she know: “margaret! Some boy and to me. ’ He added, lest some who looked not for the lobes of your Highness keep your pillow, to catch for that be sin which shall I say, of her harmony sunck, and looked no little smart did feele: but when dilated organs let in day to the word, they are,—very like men! As the first the dying of the Apostles’ cure. Till the journals, too, I diligently peruse.

And more: not an Inch of Wall but echoed with such discourse we gaine, and makes the fuller day. When one of our joys to tell the whale worships thee, but failst thou found the best; and heart of Yúsuf. With the most of prophet to forget you and your memory, for the door. He took no part in a fowling net, which she employs for so large a mind. And mournful family; look on the gree, who are chief at married on; all of the go-cart.

Sang, or in their airy steep require found again, only to see, through the centre sit, yet, where Laura lay, with spotted winges of prejudice resmooth to nothingness into the fuller day. The rest torn out. If you ain’t neva have tossed you like younger than fail. But the eye! Then summoned out she kept his hour, and, below, stuck out the bat, the owl, the gates of Heaven is charity, that has a son and see O help!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #121 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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mtaylor0083 · 18 days ago

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The Red and Orange Bird Nest wholesale only can be found in special bird houses which are built near the coastal areas. The harvest times for this nest are 3 times a year. https://birdnestwholesale.com/orange-nest/

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sevrena85 · 1 month ago

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Guy Bradley, 1870-1905.

Monroe County sheriff deputy and game warden, formerly a guide for plume hunters to plume hunters in South Florida's once bountiful rookeries. After witnessing the wholesale destruction of bird populations by both harvesting adults and leaving unguarded chicks to predation, he accepted a job as game warden in 1902.

He was shot and killed in 1905 by Civil War veteran and poacher Walter Smith, who claimed self-defense. He was found not guilty but served 5 months in jail, unable to flip the $5k bail. During his incarceration, Bradley's brothers in law burned down Smith's house.

In 1908 two more murders, those of De Soto County warden Columbus G. McLeod and South Carolina Audubon employee Pressly Reeves, led to the Audubon Plumage Act of 1910, effectively ending Florida's plume trade.

#international men's day #conservation

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jcmarchi · 2 months ago

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Fusing science and culture through metalsmithing

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/fusing-science-and-culture-through-metalsmithing/

Fusing science and culture through metalsmithing

As the metal artist in residence and technical instructor in MIT’s Department of Materials Science and Engineering (DMSE), Rhea Vedro operates in a synthesis of realms that broadens and enriches the student experience at MIT.

“Across MIT,” she says, “people in the arts, humanities, and sciences come together, and as soon as there’s opportunity to talk, sparks fly with all of the cross-pollination that is possible. It’s a rich place to be, and an exciting opportunity to work with our students in that way.”

In 2022, when Vedro read the job description for her current position at MIT, she says it resonated deeply with her interests and experiences. An outgrowth of MIT’s strong tradition of “mens et manus” (“mind and hand”), the position fused seamlessly with her own background.

“It was like I had written it myself. I couldn’t believe the position existed,” Vedro says.

Vedro’s relationship with metals had begun early. Even as a child growing up in Madison, Wisconsin, she collected minerals and bits of metal — and was in heaven when her godmother in New York City would take her to the Garment District, where she delightedly dug through wholesale bins of jewelry elements.

“I believe that people are called to different mediums,” she says. “Artists are often called to work with wood or clay or paper. And while I love all of those, metal has always been my home.”

After earning a master of fine arts in metals at the State University of New York at New Paltz, Vedro combined her art practice over the years with community work, as well as with an academic pursuit into metalsmithing history. “Through material culture, anthropology, and archeology, you can trace civilizations by how they related to this material.”

Vedro teaches classes 3.093 (Metalsmithing: Objects and Power), 3.095 (Introduction to Metalsmithing), and 4:A02 (DesignPlus: Exploring Design), where students learn techniques like soldering, casting, and etching, and explore metalsmithing through a cultural lens.

“In my class, we look at objects like the tool, the badge, the ring, the crown, the amulet, armor in relationship to the body and power,” Vedro says.

Vedro also supports the lab sections of class 3.094 (Materials in Human Experience), an experiential investigation into early techniques for developing cementitious materials and smelting iron, with an eye toward the future of these technologies.

Explaining her own artistic journey, which has taken her all over the world, Vedro says the “through-line” of her practice involves the idea of transformation, via the physical process of her hands-on work as a metalsmith, a fascination with materiality, and her community work to “transform lives through the art of making something.”

Such transformation is demonstrated in her ongoing commission by the City of Boston Mayor’s Office of Arts and Culture, entitled Amulet, which invited the public to community workshops, and to Vedro’s “Workbench” positioned by the waterfront in East Boston, to use metal tools of the trade. Each participant made their own mark on sheets of metal, asked to act with an intention or wish for safe passage of a loved one or for one’s own journey. Vedro will fashion the sheets, bearing the “wishmarks” of so many community members into several 16-to-17-foot birds, positioning them to stand guard at Boston City Hall Plaza.

At MIT, students come to the DMSE’s Merton C. Flemings Materials Processing Laboratory to work on creative projects in fine metals and steel, and also to craft parts for highly technical research in a wide range of fields, from mechanical engineering to aeronautics and astronautics.

“Students will come proposing to make a custom battery housing, a coil for a project going into outer space, a foundry experiment, or to etch and polish one crystal of aluminum,” Vedro says. “These are very specific requests that are not artistic in their origin and rely upon the hands-on metalsmithing of my team, including Mike Tarkanian [DMSE senior lecturer], James Hunter, [DMSE lecturer], and Shaymus Hudson [DSME technical instructor].”

Whatever the students’ inspiration, Vedro says she is struck by how motivated they are to do their best work — even despite the setbacks and time required that are part of developing a new skill.

“Everyone here is intensely driven,” she says, adding that many students, perhaps because of their familiarity with the scientific process, “are really good at taking quote-unquote failures as part of their learning process.”

Throughout their exploration in the lab, otherwise known as the Forge/Foundry, many students discover the power of working with their hands.

“There is a zone you get into, where you are becoming one with what you’re doing and lose track of time, and you are only paying attention to how material is behaving under your hand,” Vedro says.

Sometimes the zone produces not only a fine piece of metalwork, but an inspiration about something unrelated, such as a new approach to a research project.

“It frees up the mind, just like when you’re sleeping and you process things you studied the night before,” Vedro says. “You can be working with your hands on something, and many other ideas come together.”

Asked whether 15 years ago she would have thought she’d be working at MIT, Vedro says, “Oh, no. My path has been such an incredible braid of different experiences. It’s a reminder to stay true to your unique path, because you can be like me — in a place I would never have anticipated, where I feel energized every day to come in and see what will cross my path.”

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weeklyshort · 3 months ago

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Starships

When Ross was fourteen, he read an article that happened to find its way onto his computer screen. It was about the Kuuk Thaayorre, a tribe of people living in what is now Australia. In their native tongue, they had no words for "left" or "right." Instead, they would use cardinal directions for everything. Do you see that tree to the east of the rock? Hand me that bowl on the north side of the table. That painting is crooked, it’s tilting a little bit to the west. It sounds daunting to most people, but to Ross, it was an invitation. A challenge set by the world to always have a mastery over his surroundings.

By age twenty-four, Ross could orienteer better than anyone he knew. It became a party trick, drunken friends stumbling over and asking "Which way is south?" and, without thinking, he would point in the appropriate direction and the deluge of "Ooohs" and "Aaah" were almost enough to make the hours devoted to perfecting this skill worth it. Almost.

Because the more Ross learned about his world, the more it filled him with dread. So much was known about Planet Earth that there was really nothing more to be discovered. He could open Google Maps and, within seconds, see the street names and numbered blocks that bespeckle the cities of far-flung nations on continents he'd never visited. Every time he thought he'd found an island so remote that surely no one else had noticed it before, he'd zoom in and see the airstrip or seaport that tethered that place to the rest of civilization. The world was so thoroughly, annoyingly discovered.

He laid on the grass in his backyard. Even on the clearest of mornings, not a cloud in sight, the bright blue sky was still polluted by contrails of airplanes crisscrossing the globe, surfing the optimal routes between Point A and Point B. Soaring through the air was rote, routine, a matter of fact for millions of people, billions even. There was no sense of adventure in the minds of executives flying to their next meeting or stressed-out parents trying to silence their crying babies.

An acorn plunked on Ross's forehead, enough to shake him from his sky-high laments, and he scanned the trees to the east in search of whatever creature was stirring above his head. It was a robin, hopping across the branches, weaving through the leaves, and inching toward her nest. She arrived at her destination, clutching the brush that housed her young. She leaned forward, ready to feed the hungry mouths that so reliably greeted her. This time, however, she cocked her head to the side in confusion; her children were gone.

The birds did as so many had done before. They leapt from the nest and flew away. But how? These delicate creatures knew so little! Their entire existence from Day One had been cuddling with their siblings while meals magically appeared pre-chewed and ready to eat. Without a single lesson on flapping wings or digging for worms, these tiny fools abandoned the safety and comfort that defined their existence and took on the world, not a single drop of experience coursing through their veins. How would they survive? Surely they couldn't, surely they wouldn't!

And yet, robins exist. If these creatures were so ill-suited for the world around them, they would perish wholesale. There would be no birds left to roam the skies or skitter across rooftops. And yet, robins exist.

Ross's phone buzzed. He clicked on the screen to find his usual groupchat abuzz with news over a celebrity whose recent tweets had caused a stir. His friends were sharing the tweets of others, tweets about tweets, just an endless barrage of tweets, cluttering his phone's memory. He didn't even bother to turn off the screen. He just chucked his phone to his left, listened as it bounced haphazardly across the yard, and stood up. Walking towards his car, he fished through his pocket and pulled out his car keys. As he sat behind the steering wheel and turned on the ignition, his navigation screamed at him to input a destination. He twisted the knob, silenced the speakers, and began to drive.

#Short story #writing #grounded

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artworksstore · 1 year ago

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This is a digitally remastered and enhanced reproduction. It is based on the 1891 lithograph produced by the Morning News in Savannah, GA. The original copy contained signs of wear and tear, discoloration, small rips, and stains. Some minor imperfections remain. However, the completed print’s restoration presents a colorful characterization of life in Savannah, Georgia in 1891. The map features over 100 places of business, public buildings, railroads, canals, parks, and churches. Small insert images at the top and bottom include the Board of Trade Building, the Chatham County Court House, the historic De Soto Hotel, Guckenhelmer & Sons Wholesale House, and Altmeyer & Co's. Dry Goods Store. The original artist was German-born Augustus Koch. Kotch served in the Engineers Office of the Wisconsin Infantry during the Civil War as draftsman, and then later as an officer. He was a prolific artist producing a number of bird’s eye view illustrations.

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harpygon · 8 months ago

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All throughout reading „Beyond the door“ by Phillip K. Dick, I couldn't help but think about the Cuckoo as a metaphor for a child.

In the beginning, Larry bought the cuckoo because he thought it‘d make Doris happy, knowing of her love of cuckoo clocks. This is very easily translatable: Doris likes children, Larry gets Doris pregnant because he thinks it‘d make her happy.

It does make her happy, right up until Larry mentions that he got the clock Wholesale, later on it get‘s reiterated that it isn‘t a valuable antique. Rather than sticking with the idea of price, we should look at quality for this part of the metaphor; There are some problems with the child, he isn‘t perfect and Doris get‘s sad that her newfound bliss has to be destroyed by her partner mentioning that.

Their approach to caring for the cuckoo clock is simple as well. Doris does everything, loving, affirming and caring for the little one, while Larry is annoyed with it and only interacts when Doris fails to do so. Based on the level of care, the cuckoo (or child) develops varying amounts of affection towards each guardian and is therefore more or less willing to spend more time than strictly necessary with them and put effort into giving them joy (this in turn betters or worsens said relationships further).

A key scene in the relationship between Larry and the cuckoo is when he has to rewind the clock and is holding it‘s door shut. Doris theorizes that Larry is scared the bird will come out while he is winding it, while Larry claims that he is only doing so because that's what you‘re meant to do. Holding the door closed is equivalent to denying social, physical and emotional closeness to the child while fulfilling its base needs. Larry sees it as his role as father, but Doris thinks he is just scared of getting close to the child.

Doris is considerably proud of her cuckoo clock, so much that she wants to share it with Bob, her affair and fellow antique lover. She talks in bright terms of it, so much that Bob is left with the idea that it is an antique cuckoo, perfect.

When Larry comes home and figures out that Doris and Bob had an affair, the cuckoo child, attached to Doris, tries to make a scene, pull his father‘s attention onto him, but it doesn‘t work. In true patriarchal family father fashion, Larry kicks out his wife and keeps the child because it is his property.

After Doris leaves, the relationship between father and cuckoo keeps deteriorating. The son doesn‘t leave his room and doesn‘t fulfill any of his responsibilities, the dad only fulfills his basic needs because he misses his wife and can‘t stand the idea of a completely silent house; the ticking of the clock, the silent signs of live his son leaves behind is the only thing keeping him from going mad.

Or are they? The father gets angry over time, mad that his wife left and this stupid cuckoo is reminding him of that and isn‘t screaming and isn‘t doing as it should and he hasn‘t seen him in three weeks; since his wife left. And he gets angry, violent: he tries to kill the cuckoo with a hammer, but he fights back and kills the father in return.

Nobody thinks the cuckoo is capable of such a thing and thus it gets ruled an accident, assumed to be a suicide by some.

What makes the cuckoo child theory so interesting to me is that a child is likened to an object. Something to make the adult people glad, to fill their silences, to be useful, to be preened and gleamed over. They‘re not seen as people, even though they have emotions and form attachments, they can be given and taken, are property. Both their successes and failures are led back to their parentage or straight up dismissed.

#beyond the door #analysis under the cut. its pretty long so...#phillip k dick

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kartikchoudhary · 10 months ago

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Requirements for Obtaining FSSAI Central License

The FSSAI Central License, a crucial legal authorization granted by the Food Safety and Standards Authority of India (FSSAI), is available to food businesses meeting specific criteria:

Mandatory Criteria:

Annual turnover exceeding Rs 20 crores, or

Operations spanning multiple states, or

Monthly or annual production surpassing the prescribed threshold limit.

Special Conditions for Application:

Initiating a business in Nutraceuticals and Health Supplements.

Engaged in transportation with a fleet of more than 100 vehicles.

Operating a hotel with a 5-star or 7-star rating.

Additional Criteria for FSSAI Central License Include:

Dairy facilities producing milk solids with an annual production of 50,000 liters or 2,500 megatons.

Processing facilities involved in vegetable oil production with a daily volume of 2 MT.

Slaughter facilities with a daily capacity of:

50 large animals,

150 small animals,

1,000 poultry birds.

Meat processing facilities with a daily production capacity of 50 KG or 150 megatons.

Food processing facilities with a daily production volume of 2 megatons.

Food businesses engaged in shipping food articles abroad.

Facilities with refrigeration or cold storage having a storage capacity of 1,000 megatons or more.

Wholesalers in the food business with an annual turnover exceeding Rs 30 crores.

Retailers and distributors of food articles with an annual turnover exceeding Rs 20 crores.

Catering services or food marketing businesses with a yearly turnover exceeding Rs 20 crores.

Restaurants and eating houses with an annual turnover of INR 20 Crore.

Food catering services operating in government-based agencies, including seaports, airports, etc.

Adhering to these comprehensive criteria ensures that businesses obtain the FSSAI Central License, emphasizing compliance with food safety standards and regulatory measures.

#FSSAI Central License

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theccrafttree · 2 years ago

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Ideas for Charming Wooden Gift Boxes

Wooden gift boxes are fantastic gifting options. You can easily put those boxes anywhere and use them for storing different types of items. In some cases, several designs or colorful wooden boxes also match perfectly with your home décor, especially those houses which have some other wooden furniture as well. Thus, a wooden box can match different types of settings perfectly. Hence, you can easily go through several interesting ideas regarding bulk gift boxes and impress your loved ones.

Some people like designer wooden boxes, whereas other, may love the colorful and attractive ones. As you can store several things and complement your home décor with a beautiful wooden box, those boxes are becoming more and more popular. You can also use those wooden boxes as your corporate gift boxes as well.

Now, let us go through several ideas regarding beautiful and interesting gift boxes wholesale, which can be perfect gifts for anyone.

An attractive box with a hinged door

These types of wooden boxes are made of dark and thin wood. The interesting thing about these boxes is that the lid of this box is not hinged, and it depends on a groove set-up. Thus, those who wish to open this box need to flip the lid and push it out. Though this is not the best thing to protect the box against theft, in it is secured against falling, and your belongings can be protected.

A box suitable for an inspired chef

This is an interesting and attractive recipe box, which is covered with several depictions of grains, birds, plants, etc. you can easily turn this box into your little recipe box because it has two prongs and can hold up a recipe card. Thus, this wooden box can easily work as a recipe box for any aspiring chef who wishes to pay homage to his/her ancestors. This box can easily match the interior décor of any kitchen while giving a special touch.

The best wooden box to gift a writer

This unique box comes with a ribbed cover so it is secured and can be closed with a tab from one section fitting within a tab from another part. The notes are the special parts of this box. Without the notes, this box can also be used as a common wooden box. These are for those writers or creative people, who like to keep things organized, will always love these boxes.

Perfect gift for liquor lovers

This is a box that is specially made for storing and carrying liquors. However, it can be used for several general purposes as well. Thus, you can easily gift this box to anyone who loves liquors and wishes to store those in an elegant way.

An attractive Viking box

The wood of the Viking tree can easily hold a lot of artwork, and hence, the Viking boxes can be a perfect gift for anyone. This box can be sturdy and attractive, with a snap-on-it system for securing the things inside it. The top of this box has some amazing decorations which can survive many years. So, for those people who are looking for a durable and attractive box to store their valuables, this box can be the best option.

A perfect option for bee lovers

This is a light box, along with dark edges and rounded corners, while there are a few bees in the box. Those bees actually carry the slogan, “Bee Happy.” This unique wooden box has a latch, which can easily protect the contents of the box. So, you can easily use these boxes as wholesale gift boxes for those who love puns. These interesting boxes are small in size but can be a perfect gift.

A good option for river lovers

The top of this box is decorated with a beautiful stream, while the banks are also clearly visible; thus, this wooden box can be a perfect gift for those who like rivers. This box can remind you of the beauty of nature. If you want to gift someone who likes to hike, hunt, or travel, this box is perfect for them.

Read Full Blog Here : https://www.theccrafttree.com/ideas-for-charming-wooden-gift-boxes/

#Wooden Gift Boxes India #Wooden Boxes For Gifts Wholesale #Wooden Gift Boxes #Wooden Gift Boxes Wholesale India #Wooden Box For Gift

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