should do one with nine so i can complete the cycle...

Nine Odd Tricks to Maximize Your Weight Gain

Hello gainers of all shapes and sizes. Today’s post is about tricks you can use to maximize your weight gain. From lighting to subliminal messaging to your plate size and color, I’m going to teach you how to trick yourself into getting fat. This post makes references to psychological, chemical, biological and historical studies, all impacting weight gain, and makes it easy to digest. Let’s get right into it!

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lunarry: a summary

probably not the lunarry fic i was planning but here we go, life ruining and all.

(luna is in italic, harry is in bold.)

  • luna hates yelling.
  • and swearing.
  • harry cusses all the time for no reason.
  • like when he walked through the door of their shared cottage in the middle of the woods shouting, “fuck!”
    • “harry please, you don’t have to use that kind of language.”
    • “i’m sorry, love. i had a really bad day.”
    • “it’s alright, i’m going out to the garden.”
    • “i’ll meet you out there.”
  • harry loved watching her tend to the garden outside.
  • it was relaxing for him. he said she looked like a fairy with her curly platinum blonde hair and yellow sundress, while the sun gave her pale skin an ethereal glow.
  • occasionally, he’d give her a little whistle when she bent down to check for weeds around the roots of her dirigible plum trees. 
  • luna tried to ignore his sexual comments, but inevitably giggled softly and turned around shake her head at him.
    • “do you need something?”
    • “i’m bored, give me something to do!”
    • “here, come water the blackberries.”
    • “yes!”
    • “you’re so childish.”
    • “says the woman who tricked me into a kiss using nargles.”
  • she smiled, thinking back to hogwarts.
  • before the battle, when their relationship was only a close friendship.
  • they understood each other. they’d both lost people.
  • harry talked about his parents, sirius, how he missed them.
  • they would sit by the lake as he showed her the few pictures he had of them. she said they were beautiful, like recently bloomed flowers.
    • “they look so happy, but you can tell something isn’t right.”
    • “hmm?”
    • “look in your father’s eyes. he’s sad. he knows what’s ahead. knows he has to fight. and they did. they fought for you, harry potter.”
    • “how do you do that?”
    • “do what?”
    • “read me, like we’ve known each other our whole lives.”
    • “it’s easier to read someone when you feel strongly for them.”
    • “you, feel strongly…for me?”
    • “i would say so. you’re kind, brave, care for others, although you can be a bit oblivious when it comes to feelings and you’re horrible with girls. but it’s charming, in a way. and you don’t make fun of me. you don’t call me loony. that’s why i wanted to be your friend in the first place.”
  • they started visiting hogsmeade together.
  • harry would sneak off from ron and hermione to meet luna near the back of the three broomsticks. 
  • sometimes they’d walk near the edge of the lake.
  • luna liked to watch the water ripple as she dipped her toes in the shallow area, where waves washed up onto dirty sand. harry watched her shoes, he promised he’d make sure the nargles wouldn’t take them. 
    • “protect my shoes.”
    • “from what?”
    • “the nargles.”
    • “alright.”
    • “harry, do you believe in nargles?”
    • “i…i don’t know.”
    • “then why did you agree?”
    • “because if there’s no proof they do exist, then there’s no proof they don’t.”
  • luna gently leaned forward, lightly pressing her lips to his.
    • “thank you. for giving me a chance.”
    • “i- you’re welcome.”
  • he watched her walk back towards the lake, water rushing around her feet. 
  • luna’s hair was pulled into a low ponytail and went down to her waist. she used the shorts she was wearing to her advantage and walked a few more steps into the water. the soft waves now went up to her ankles but she turned around to have a seat on one of the rocks by the shore.
  • harry picked up luna’s black flats and went to sit by her on the stones.
  • he placed the shoes behind them and looked up to face the sun.
  • it was warm. oddly warm for april in scotland.
  • this felt nice. him and luna. 
  • she was short, thin, highly intelligent, and completely herself. she wasn’t afraid to be someone the rest of the world wouldn’t accept. she was beautiful. with her eyes closed and body shifting to lay down on the flat boulder, half embedded in the ground. with her clever mind and odd radish earrings. 
  • before harry had time to look away she opened her eyes, smiling dreamily. he’d been caught. 
  • luna happily took his hand in hers, gently rubbing his knuckles.
  • he blushed and, with all the gryffindor courage he could muster, interlaced their fingers. 
  • but suddenly, he heard a familiar voice shout his name.
  • it was ron, they were looking for him.
  • harry swiftly jumped away from luna, as to appear like they were only chatting. he hopped off the rock and yelled for his friends, saying a rushed goodbye to silver-eyed blonde.
    • “i’m sorry, i-”
    • “i know. goodbye, harry potter.,”
  • luna was snapped back to reality when harry began to water her feet.
    • “honey, i’m not a blackberry.”
    • “you’re as sweet as one.”
  • harry plucked a daisy from her garden and placed it behind her ear. 
  • his past relationships, before getting together with luna five years after the war, hadn’t been like this. those women were giggling school girls. luna was a dreamer, a romantic, and the kindest person he’d ever met. she went vegan at nine because she was afraid the neighbor’s dogs wouldn’t like her anymore if she supported meat consumption. she started recycling from a young age because she thought the clouds of pollution in the sky were ugly. she got him to expand his boundaries by cycling to the farmer’s market and other places close by, instead of apparating. (apparently, it was bad for him to use magic for everything.) she taught him how to prepare nutritional meals, how to ride a bike, hence the cycling, but most importantly she taught him to let go.
  • he didn’t have to save the world to help others. 
  • he could do something as simple as help someone with their groceries or sign a petition for animal rights or maybe even forgive an old enemy.
    • “sweetheart?”
    • “i think you should talk to draco.”
    • “you what?”
    • “it’s been years since, then, and he’s with hermione now…so i think you should make an attempt at friendship?”
    • “…..”
    • “don’t you sigh at me. come on, we’ve got brunch plans in two hours at this lovely little diner in the city.”
    • “you…you already planned something; with him.”
    • “yes, because i knew you would never agree to it on your own. therefore, i did something that’s good for you.”
    • “i’m-”
    • “i’m so happy i have you in my life.”

anonymous asked:

so omegaverse but john has a disorder which makes heat physically painful and exhausting but in an almost chronic way not a sexy way and him feeling like a complete burden

tw: mention of forced impregnation

—–

The sharp pain between his legs was throbbing and the ibuprofen wasn’t effective enough. Sweat and tears dripped down his face and he buried his face in the pillow, struggling to hold in his cries.

“Hey - Jacky.” Alex wrapped an arm around John’s waist, pressing a kiss to his neck. “Drink some of this.” He pressed a water bottle into his hands.

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PSG Roundtable #8: Altars & Shrines for Non-theistic Purposes

Want to make an altar or shrine to a principle, concept, or impersonal subject that isn’t a ‘conventional’ deity, complete with names and symbols and pre-defined rituals?

First, you need to know what its purpose is.  There’s no clear delineation and they often get combined in contemporary practice, but generally speaking, a shrine is a space for devotional offerings, meditation, and/or self-reflection whereas an altar tends to be more of a practical workspace.  Both shrines and altars act as a space in which you interact with the immaterial in some way.  They’re liminal.

Please note that everything I say here is opinion, and I invite you to accept or reject what you will according to your own beliefs, needs, and desires.  I’ll be using my devotion to Death as an example, but you should be able to extrapolate for the universe, moon, sun, nature, etc.  I’m going to stick to the word “altar” for simplicity’s sake.

  • What is your altar dedicated to?

Be as specific as possible.  This helps you know exactly what you’re wanting to deal with.

Ex: Death.  What part of death?  The whole cycle of life-death-rebirth?  Death as the ultimate symbol of transformation and impermanence?  For me, death is the greatest power, and I have an obsession with the concept of entropy.  (Asimov’s “The Last Question” and Arthur C. Clarke’s “The Nine Billion Names of God” are two of my favorite short stories.)  It is the concept by which we define our very nature and how we understand our existence, the source of our greatest fears and anxieties as a mortal species, and the one truly unifying experience for all humans.  And a lot more besides, but I could go on all day about death so I’ll stop here.

  • How do you want to engage with this concept/abstract?

Some common ideas:

  1. Reflection, meditation
  2. Devotionals, worship
  3. Spellcrafting and magic

How do you normally do your meditation or magic?  How can the materials, timing, and other components be adapted?

  • What associations and visuals do you have for this concept?

Consider all the senses: scents, tastes, textures, fabrics, sounds, colors, stones, herbs, numbers, symbols, words and phrases, music notes and songs, emotions, aspects of nature, etc.  Make lists.  Hell, make aesthetic posts.  These will help you choose what kinds of objects, tools, and materials to put on your altar to best facilitate the kind of meaningful experience you’re looking for. 

(Make sure you’re not appropriating anything from a closed or initiatory tradition.  There are usually about a hundred thousand alternatives for everything, so don’t go taking sacred things out of their proper context and using them in ways they weren’t intended to be used.)

Ex: my personal associations for death include black, white, and silver; camphor, menthol, the smell of wet dirt; quiet chill, both damp and dry; grief, dissociation, sarcasm and morbid humor, relief, freedom, truth, rebellion, empowerment, justice, existentialism; the numbers two, three, and seven; obsidian, jet; Southern Gothic folk rock (Jen Titus’ cover of the American folk classic “O Death,” anyone?); black mirrors, slim dark-handled knives, scalpels; images of space; “evanescent” (the SAT word, not the band), “fate,” “tradition,” “stories,” “power”; bleached bones, blood both old and fresh, winter, corvids, silhouettes of bare trees, white bedsheets, gauzy curtains, empty hospital beds, abandoned houses, sexuality, dried flowers, candles burning either singly or in the hundreds.  See, as silly as aesthetic posts can be, they really can be useful.

Now look at your own lists and see what underlying trends and themes there are.  For me, I see impermanence and unadorned realism.  (I left out the more graphic and triggering associations I have with death because I don’t want to distract from the purpose of this post.)  Someone making a list for the sun, on the other hand, may find ‘strength’ or ‘optimism’ is a common theme in their associations.  I find that understanding the themes in your associations helps you understand your own relationship with the concept itself and why you might feel drawn to it so strongly.  It may also help you choose in which direction you want to take your engagement with it.

  • Setting up the altar.

Do what you would do for a conventional altar: cleanse the space (or container, if you’re making your altar in a box, cupboard, drawer, or something similar) and everything you’ll be using on it.  If you don’t have a tradition that comes with a prescription for setting up an altar, you can look up how to cleanse and consecrate altar items in any number of ways and choose the method that’s most appropriate for you.  I do recommend using methods that reflect back to your concept.  For example, salt, as an agent for drying, preserving, and purifying, would be appropriate for death, as would frankincense, which in a multitude of cultures is a required component of funerals.  For something dedicated to the universe as a whole, I would probably incorporate sound into the cleansing, as sound is a wavelength and much of what we know about our universe (sound waves, radiation waves, gravitational fields, matter itself, etc) is based on those principles.

Ex: My altar is dedicated to death in the impersonal, entropic sense.  This means that anything personal goes to a different space set aside for my beloved dead and ancestors; this altar is for the vast, inhuman concept of “the end” that can be so oppressively terrifying or incredibly freeing.  The setup is based on a visual that came during a meditation: the altar cloth is black with a ring of alternating smooth and rough obsidian stones (which betrays my bias as an Irish polytheist) around a circular mirror in the center.  A small sphere of obsidian sits in the center of the mirror.  A black pillar candle stands tall behind it all.  The setup is designed to facilitate my journeyings by creating a symbolically liminal space represented by the ring, made of stones that naturally draw in power rather than reflect it.  The drawing in reflects my journeying technique as well as how I connect with the greater, impersonal energy of death and darkness and all those cheerful things, especially when I hold the obsidian sphere, so it works for me.  If I were doing ancestor or spiritwork I would probably use more white, which recalls a different aspect of “death” than black does to me.

The “nature worship” tag has additional commentary on non-theistic practices.

- mountain hound  

So, Hound covered more of the altar stuff. I’ll add my thoughts on shrines. for ease of reading, I’ll mimic the format starting with

  • What is your Shrine dedicated to?

I find a shrine is much more free form than an altar due to its fundamentally different nature. Whereas an altar is used for practice in spellcraft or meditation a shrine, in my opinion, is about devotion connection in a way that is different than an altar is used for. As such, while I see altars as something that needs to be more specific (as Hound mentioned above), I find shrines do not need to be so specific. For example, my shrine is to Nature, in all its forms. I do not emphasize more the harsh wilds or the tame fields but all its forms under the complete object. If you wish to emphasize one or the other, you can, I just do not find it as necessary to do as with an altar. 

My reasoning for such is (and feel free to disagree) an altar is used more in a practical sense for spellcraft and meditation and other uses that are generally to garner a result. As such being as specific as possible is advantageous as it leaves less room for error.  A shrine, however, is used for more abstract things such as offerings, self-reflection, etc. which are generally things that are not (though can be) used to garner some sort of result. For example, I will leave offerings at my shrine more as an act of devotion with no end goal as opposed to an offering I may give a spirit when requesting its services (which is a good example of an offering to garner some sort of result).

The rest of the points are very eloquently put and can be easily applied to both altars and shrines; the primary difference is the function of active vs passive respectively and how narrow and broad the scope respectively.

Sparrow

The PSG Roundtable Index
before asking | faq+tags | resource blog

amusednow  asked:

Bellarke version of White House Down (or just President Bellamy/Secret Service Agent Clarke). Please and thank you!

The thing about being in the secret service is that, the vast majority of the time, it’s just not actually interesting. There’s a lot of romanticizing of all kinds of law enforcement, but Clarke feels like secret service might get the worst of it. Because her life is mostly mind-numbing boredom with a constant background buzz of anxiety. It’s not all battling terrorists and saving Air Force One. A lot of the time it’s just hanging out on the couch with the president while he makes faces at Netflix.

When she tells him as much, he says, “Wait, are you not familiar with the president’s daughter film genre? Because secret service totally gets to be comic relief in those.”

“Is that how you prepared to be the president?” she asks. “Just watched a bunch of movies about the president’s daughter? That would have prepared you better if you had kids.”

“Jesus, you sound like my campaign adviser,” he says, groaning and closing his eyes. “I thought once I got elected he’d stop caring I’m not married, but apparently getting elected when I’m single was a fluke the first time, so I should get married before the next election, just to be safe. And I watched them with Octavia,” he adds, as an afterthought. “So shut the fuck up.”

Clarke glances at him sidelong, eye catching on the strong line of his neck, the prominent bulge of his Adam’s apple. She doesn’t draw that much anymore, but he does make her fingers itch, sometimes.

He is, arguably, the most eligible bachelor in the entire world. Which can be a little hard to remember, given he’s also probably the world’s biggest dork, but, well, that’s part of his charm too. He’s attractive, he’s intelligent, but he’s also working that Obama kind of dorky dad vibe and is, of course, one of the most powerful people on the planet.

So she’s far from the only person to have a thing for him. She’s not even the only person on his staff to have a thing for him. But she’s one of the only people who gets him like this, just the two of them, hanging out on the couch, Bellamy in a pair of faded pajama bottoms and a Williams t-shirt, glasses crooked on his nose. He looks more like a dorky frat kid than the president, and she loves it.

“Someone should tell your campaign adviser about incumbent presidents. And your approval ratings. Is that covered in any of the movies in the president’s daughter genre? Maybe you can just have him watch a couple of those.”

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aphelionstars  asked:

What do you think of Madara? Like do you think he's a true villian, or do you think outside opinions influenced his way of thinking?

Your question is rather interesting; it excludes other conclusions. By asking me if Madara is a true villain, or influenced by (negative) opinions of others, the implication of your sentence is clear: What Madara did was fundamentally wrong. However, to further elaborate, we have to be completely unbiased, or—in this case—have to look at it from more perspectives than one. More under the cut.

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Liars: hartbig one-shot.

Hartbig. Hanler has my brotp heart. nsfw.

Thank you to the always lovely carrotskoalasandbooze for editing my stories and putting up with me.

All my writing can be found here.

Btw, I’m sorry in advance for this story. Who the fuck lets me write fanfiction anyway?

“No one believes a liar, even when she’s telling the truth.”

She doesn’t remember the first lie she ever told. She doesn’t know if it was a small white lie to get out of trouble with her parents or if it was a lie about why she didn’t have her homework for a teacher.

No, she doesn’t remember the very first lie that ever passed her lips but she does remember the most significant lie that she has ever told.

There are all kinds of lies.

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For @aohatsu​‘s Peekaboo Birthday Bonanza. Thanks to @whydisignuponthisgodforsakensite​ and @sailyoursea for encouragement along the way.

Set at the end of the current season. I’m sure every trope in this fic has been done a thousand times over, but y’know what, I don’t care.
All tweets are fake (obviously), but some of the twitter handles are not. I do not claim to represent Kane, Toews, the Blackhawks franchise, Deadspin, You Can Play, or any of the beat reporters herein depicted.
Most of it is at best a T rating, except for the opening passage, which is probably an M? I’m a bad judge of ratings, sorry.

K/T, est rel, mixed media, 6k
Warning for homophobic slurs.


Blackhawks stars in gay sex tape scandal!
Sunday May 29 2016

Just when we thought Twenny Cent had hit rock-bottom, there’s a new low for Deadspin darling Patrick Kane as a sex tape emerges, exposing his gay relationship with good ol’ Captain Serious himself, Jonathan Toews. The video, allegedly taken from Toews’ own cell phone, is explicitly pornographic. Details that follow are not safe for work…

The video is four minutes and eighteen seconds long. Jonny remembers exactly how it goes: the images were seared onto his memory long before he had to deal with each frame being ‘conclusive analysed’ by morons on the internet.

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apocalypsecastiel  asked:

Could you rec any mpreg fics please? I don't mind whether it's caused by omegaverse or other reasons. (Also, I would truly love it if you could possibly find your way to doing some more lambverse, it's completely my favourite AU ever) thankyou!

Gladly! ♥

Just let me know what you’d like to see in lamb!Verse :3

Below the cut is a selection of Mpreg stories of the pregnant!Cas kind! 

(There’s also a lamb!Verse Mpreg story if you feel up to that~)

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(if we’ve got nothin’) we’ve got us.

Show: The Flash
Characters: Iris West, Barry Allen, Linda Park, Joe West, some background cameos
Ship: Barry/Iris, a healthy dose of ParkWest friendship
Words: ~10k
Timeline: AU
Notes: sandy tweeted out this prompt: ”we’re coanchors at a news network at 3am and we build a devoted fanbase of insomniacs who want us to make out” and i rolled with it. and she continues to be the best beta in the land!! @bluestoplights

[AO3]

Iris should have known broadcast journalism would be a mistake.

It’s not that she’s necessarily dying for the recognition or notoriety of daytime news. She doesn’t even need the early morning half-hearted viewership of tired people working nine to five, shuffling around getting ready while a too chipper voice tells them the news.

In fact, if she had just stayed the course she wouldn’t even be on TV at all. Iris would be hiding behind her computer in relative obscurity writing for a newspaper or, more likely, an online publication. God, if she had a time machine.

As it is, she’s sitting at her stupid desk in front of her stupid fake backdrop at 3 AM trying not to sound like she’s contemplating quitting on air in a blaze of glory.

Well, she was contemplating that anyway. She’d daydream about it at least three times a week in between reiterating news from earlier in the day and trying to find a way to make it sound like the clip they’d found on YouTube is actually news. Of all the new stations in the city, Iris had to work for the one with a 24 hour cycle.

Barry Allen, it turns out, is a breath of fresh air.

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fic update: can’t escape this now (Olicity, 5/16, rated M)

Title: can’t escape this now (3251 words this chapter) by callistawolf
Chapters: 5/16
Fandom: Arrow (TV 2012)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Characters: Oliver Queen, Felicity Smoak, Moira Queen, Thea Queen, Tommy Merlyn, Helena Bertinelli, Carrie Cutter, Malcolm Merlyn
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, No island, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Tropey as hell
Summary: Oliver Queen, scion of a wealthy and powerful family, returns home from his exile to Russia to find that his mother has plans for his future that he wants no part of. Unfortunately, it’s not really up to him and neither is it up to Felicity Smoak, who is about to find out what sort of man her father truly is. MOB AU

Chapter Summary: One month into their marriage and we get a look at how Oliver and Felicity are doing… which is just fine. As for how they’re doing *together*, well… that’s a whole ‘nother story.

Author’s Notes: Hello everyone! Happy Tuesday! Guess what? I am halfway through writing the FINAL chapter! Which means, if I keep my focus today and don’t wander off to Tumblr and Twitter overmuch, I should have this whole thing finished by tonight. Which also means… I could begin posting chapters daily starting tomorrow (or would that be today since I posted today and then might post tomorrow too and then the day after and the day after…?).

I hope you enjoy this chapter. I’m sorry I’ve not included them taking a honeymoon (I don’t believe they would in this circumstance). They are very much still in the “separate rooms” phase of the relationship and they remain there for, oh… let’s just say a REALLY LONG TIME. This story, after all, is about how they GET together. Not about how they ARE together.

Before I dive in, quick thank you to mersayseh for giving this a read for me. Believe me when I say, if not for her, I might never have gotten off my rump and finished this thing.

You can read this chapter (and/or subscribe for updates) on Ao3 and now FF.net!

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At age 18 a curious Yvon Chouinard learned the art of fly fishing. This eventually led him to the centuries-old Japanese technique tenkara—or “simple” fly fishing. He’s passed this knowledge on to experienced and novice anglers ever since, and recently penned Simple Fly Fishing: Techniques for Tenkara and Rod & Reel, with co-authors Mauro Mazzo and Craig Mathews. But Chouinard’s passion for nature and fish also translates to direct action. A self-proclaimed dam-buster, Chouinard co-produced the film DamNation, to explore how our river ecosystems are endangered as a result of man-made dams, and how we can all be part of the solution.

You just got back from the premiere of DamNation at SXSW?
Yeah, we had 400 people show up, that’s pretty good.

Why was it important to make this film?
I was taught that if you make a mess, you’re responsible for cleaning it up. Somehow corporations and governments are immune to that kind of thing. They pollute a river and they walk away. They build dams and when they’re no longer useful it’s left to the taxpayers to clean it up. That’s wrong. So I wanted to establish a precedent, starting with dams, that if you build something massive like that—divert a river, or whatever you’re doing, you need to put money into a trust so that when it is obsolete, you have to restore it to its original pristine condition. If that should ever become law they’d never do these massive things again.

The other reason for making this film is that I’ve been a dam-buster all my life. Patagonia’s been involved for a long time in trying to take out dams. Our first victory was Edwards Dam on the Kennebec in Maine. It was preventing hundreds of miles of salmon tributaries from going up there. But it was a local issue. We decided to make it a national issue by coming out with full-page ads in the New York Times.

A lot of interest was given to the thing and it came out. It’s gone, and salmon are now roaring up there, as well as shad and striped bass. It’s amazing there. We were involved with the Elwha Dam even though it was absolutely hopeless at that time. Now it’s gone and the fish are back! So we’ve had some of what I call “concrete” victories.

Most of us in the US grow up going to see these dams, not really understanding how bad they actually are. So what was really nice about the film was that it shined a light on the destructive nature of dams.
[The film] makes a good case for taking out obsolete dams and harmful dams. We need to make a stronger case for not building any more dams and talk about the unintended consequences of existing dams: things like preventing sand from reaching the coastlines, which is very important, especially with the rising seas in the future. We’re losing the beaches. And then we’re losing nutrients. The Colorado doesn’t reach the Gulf of California anymore; two-thirds of the Gulf is a dead zone. All the big fish are gone, because there are no nutrients. And the Aswan Dam of the Nile has killed the Mediterranean. The Mediterranean is a dead sea.

Within a decade or two, there won’t be a single river in China reaching the sea. The whole South China Sea will be another dead zone. We’re killing the oceans with these dams, because the nutrient cycles are being stopped. Then you’ve got evaporation. In the film we talk about how 8% of the total water behind Glen Canyon Dam is lost to evaporation every year. That’s a lot of water.

We’re having a big drought here in California and people are talking about building dams again. That’s not the solution. The solution is to replenish our aquifers. The Ogallala Aquifer is under the whole Midwest and responsible for all that agriculture. It used to be, on average, 30 feet under the ground. Now it’s 300 feet. In another decade it’ll be gone. And it’s fossil water. It’s millions of years old. So it’s not being replenished. Instead of building dams, why not replenish our aquifers, which is completely possible to do.

The film makes the case for protecting these areas and rivers so we can actually enjoy them. You just made the book Simple Fly Fishing, which talks about fishing on rivers that are healthy and the beautiful art of simple fly fishing, or tenkara. What’s so special about tenkara?
The book is a metaphor for society. The overlying problem is growth, which is what no one wants to address. Whatever gains we make as a society in cleaning up our act and becoming more so-called environmental are completely erased by growth. Whether it’s population growth, the growth of companies, or the growth of consumerism. We’re not getting anywhere. In fact, we’re losing, every single day. The only solution is to go back to a simpler life.

You perfect a sport when you can do all of these things with less stuff. The most impressive ascent of Everest was by the Swedish guy who bicycled from Stockholm to Kathmandu and then soloed Everest and bicycled back to Stockholm. That is cool, as opposed to this huge multinational guided thing with computers and internet cafes at the base of Everest. I’m really stoked to see some of the routes I did on Capitan that took us nine or ten days being soloed by guys in their gym shorts. That’s the way sports should go.

Unfortunately, fly fishing has gone the opposite way. The industry has made people so insecure that they feel like unless they have a $1,000 rod, $500 reel, and multiple ones, they won’t catch a fish. They have reels with drags on them that can stop a truck. So it’s an industry based on enticing people to consume more and more. Which is the problem with our society. We need to get back to a simpler life where we consume less. We buy used clothes, we patch our clothes, we make things last. We buy less, but buy better quality that’ll last a long time and hand it down to our kids. That’s what tenkara’s all about. The technique goes back to 210 ad, when it was first written about. That’s the way I and a lot of people in my generation learned to fish. We bought a bamboo pole, or cut one, and put a line on the end with a worm and we caught fish. Tenkara is a pole with a line on the end and an artificial fly. I started doing this as a novelty. Then I realized the combination of the flexible pole and being able to control the action of the fly—which you can’t do with a stiff fly rod—I can make that fly dance in front of a trout’s nose and he can’t resist it. I’ll go out with some of the best fly fishers in the world, and at the end of the day, they’ll maybe have caught 10 fish, I’ll have about 50.

In Simple Fly Fishing you ask fly fisher Lefty Kreh to describe in two sentences how to cast a line. Can you describe in a couple sentences how to use the tenkara system to catch a fish?
I could teach somebody to cast in three minutes. It’s that simple. If you want to turn someone into an angler, they have to catch fish. They can’t go three days without catching a fish (laughs). As soon as they catch
that fish, they’re hooked. I was just down in Argentina and I had a waitress in a lodge and I promised to teach her fishing. I gave her a three-minute lesson casting a tenkara rod. I told her what to do, and she went out, she landed two rainbow trout! Two twenty-inch rainbow trout all on her own. So it’s a metaphor for society in that if we have to go to a simpler life, it won’t be an impoverished life, it’s going to be a great life.

A lot of people learn a sport without ever learning the basics. A lot of climbers learn to climb in a climbing gym. Then they go out on a real crag and they don’t know how to place protection or anything. They never learned any of that stuff. Fishing’s the same thing. People start out and immediately take a casting class or they go out with a guide. Unless the guide is a real teacher, your mind just shuts off. It’s like being driven by a chauffeur to a place in the city 10 days in a row. Unless you actually drive there on your own, you’ll never be able to do it because your mind shuts off while that guy’s driving you there.

Tenkara teaches you the absolute basics. The most important thing is that it gives action to the fly, instead of this dead object that’s floating on the surface with no drag. The thing is dancing around like a real fly does. If you get it in front of a trout’s nose, it’s a killer.

Fishing is such a male-dominated sport, women may be intimidated to pick it up. You look through fishing magazines and there are women fishing in their bikinis. To fish, you either have to put on a bikini, or deal with the burly tattooed guy.
It’s not only male-dominated, but if you look at magazines and stuff, all the guides, they all have these great big bushy beards, they have tattoos, and they’re talking about ripped lips, and it’s become this testosterone-laden sport, where it used to be the gentle, contemplative sport. It’s you against the fish now. And it’s crazy! Women look at that and say, “Gee, that’s not me.” But 38% of our business right now is women’s fly fishing stuff, because no one else is paying any attention to [what they want].

Your wife doesn’t fish. Has she tried the tenkara?
No, she doesn’t want to poke holes in a fish’s mouth. But you know, catch and release causes very little damage to the fish. There’s the rare occasion where you could kill or hurt a fish. But I’ve caught the same fish in two different casts. I’ve caught a steelhead, released it, cast again and caught him again.

The fish was probably so annoyed.
You’re tormenting fish, no doubt about it, but it’s pretty harmless for the good that it does, which is to create anglers who really care about the environment and clean rivers and stuff like that. If you don’t have any relationship with a river, then you don’t care whether it’s polluted or not. It does a lot of good in that respect. If you really didn’t want to hook a fish, but you like the idea of outsmarting one, you just put a fly on that doesn’t have a point or barb. The fish will tug on it and that’s it. You get the same enjoyment.

Can you talk about the idea of “reading the river” and how it’s important to fishing and being able to catch something?
Like I said, I could give people a three-minute lesson and then they can really start catching fish—if I tell them where the fish are. It’s like robbing a bank: that’s where the money is, but there better be money there! It’s the hardest thing for people to learn, and that’s something they have to learn on their own, studying and even going out with guides who point out where the fish are. But that’s the enjoyable part—learning.

You’re known to go off on your own when you’re fishing. Is that a good time for contemplation?
It takes an incredible amount of concentration to be a good fisher. You have to really study the water flow and think like a fish: “Where’s the fish going to be in this kind of water? What insects are likely to come out at 2 o'clock this afternoon?” It’s very intense.

People say, “I don’t fish because I don’t have the patience.” That’s a different kind of fishing. That’s throwing a worm or some bait and sitting there waiting for something to bite it. Fly fishing’s not like that. It’s a completely proactive thing. Each person is in his own world. You may as well just go and do it yourself. Plus you want to get to the good places before your buddies.

Do you consider fly fishing a sport?
I don’t think it’s a sport. A sport belongs in the sport pages of a newspaper. Climbing doesn’t belong there, and fly fishing doesn’t belong there. It’s a passion. With the tenkara, if you catch a big fish, you have to replace that reel with physical action. You have to run after the fish, you’ve gotta do all kinds of stuff to get that fish in. But that’s the fun of it.

Does Patagonia have a particular fishing ethos that’s different from other companies?
I think we’re more concerned about protect- ing resources than a lot of companies. There are 30,000+ manufacturers of fishing gear in America. Of those, only 13 belong to the global organization 1% for the Planet. You’d think a company that’s dependent on having clean rivers and healthy fish populations would feel more responsibility to do some- thing about protecting them than your average taxpayer, but no. It’s really a crime.

Then, I’m interested in getting people into fly fishing because they’ll be advocates for protecting their resources. Right now, it’s a dying sport. Kids are sitting at home, playing their Game Boys and they’re not out. Especially urban kids, who have a long ways to go before they can catch fish. I’m particularly interested in getting women and their daughters into fly fishing. There’s tremendous interest from women, if it’s done right.

You started fishing with your brother back in Maine. Were you fly fishing?
No, I didn’t get into fly fishing until I was 18 years old when I was in the Tetons. One of the mountain guides, Glenn Exum, who owned the Exum Guide Service, was teaching his son how to fly cast. I was watching him out in the meadow and he looked over at me and said, “Hey. Come on over here, son.” He taught me how to cast, and that was it. I put away my spinning lures and became a fly fisherman.

The last time we talked you said you had to survive off cat food one summer because you were so poor—
—that was the summer!

So once you learned to fish, you didn’t have to eat cat food anymore?
(laughs) I only did that for one summer. I mean, I ate porcupine and ground squirrels. The butcher shop in Jackson would save bones for me. I scavenged a lot of different things. And yeah, I ate fish.

From top: Yvon Chouinard, 2013. Photo: Jeremy Koreski; Yvon Chouinard on the Henry’s Fork River in Idaho fishing for Rainbows, 2013. Photo: Jeremy Koreski; Salmo Salar, no reel no problem, Iceland. Photo: Malinda Pennoyer Chouinard; Don’t fence me in. Yvon Chouinard wrapping up a bad day of fishing. Still beats workin’, Wilson, Wyoming. Photo: Tim Davis

Life Unexpected 9/?

a/n: Oh wow, Hiatus weather already! The last chapter had received so much more recognition than I could have imagined so I do appreciate every single one of you who read, like, reblog with things in the tags and oh my fic recs and asks are the best. It’s really the most amazing thing to have so thank you soooo much!!!!!

Huge thanks to @the-savior-and-the-pirate for my banner, and @ravenclawpianist who beta’s this fic. I feel like as of late everyone is so focused on getting fic writers recognition, which yes! of course, but I want to really express how great betas are because they also do this for nothing, and they don’t get the feedback and notes either. I think that’s really incredible, so thanks so much for finding time to do this for me, Colleen, and adult.

Okay long authors note is long. 

Summary: After a tragic car accident took the lives of Liam and Elsa Jones, Killian found himself the heir to their family home, their business and their only child. Despite two large holes in his heart, he thinks he finally has things under control after a year of struggle and grief. In walks Emma Swan gradually filling both holes in the most unexpected way.

Read on FF.Net orA03; Or catch up on Tumblr( Chapter 1,Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4,Chapter 5, Chapter 6,Chapter 7, Chapter 8)


Invitation Accepted

“Emma, this isn’t your first pregnancy?”  

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Mine Own Fears (Part 3)

Your name: submit What is this?

When you got out of the shower, dried yourself, and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, you checked your phone.  67 unread messages and 11 missed calls.  Christ, he was probably wolfing out in some obscure location.  

Not really your problem.  When he decided to replace you, he also decided to accept the aftereffects of your broken relationship.  

But still.  It was hard to believe he’d been ditching you for the past week for Meredith, of all people.  She was one of the popular-

Oh, that was probably it.  

Liam, being cute, athletic, funny, and nice, stop thinking like that Y/N, had gone for someone of the same social status as him.  You didn’t hang out with the popular girls at Beacon Hills High, and you didn’t alternate between the popular kids and your pack like Liam did.  

You were sort of a chameleon; you could eat with the geeks, the athletes, your pack, the Tumblr kids, sometimes even the artists would let you in.  

You needed a plan.  Tomorrow was a Monday, which meant school and, even worse, Liam.  Your best option was to come to lunch a few minutes late and see where he was sitting, then find a place as far away as possible from him.  It was unlikely you’d be able to avoid him for more than a couple weeks at best, but talking to him right now would probably mean at least one of you wolfing out on campus.

Hearing a knock at your door, you sat up in bed and watched Derek walk in and lean against the wall next to the doorframe.  

“Kid’s pretty upset, Y/N.  Scott’s taking him to his place right now.”

“Thanks for the PSA, but I’m pretty comfy-”

“Gonna avoid him forever?”

“That-that was the plan.”  It sounded pretty stupid when you said it out loud, which made keeping a serious face all the much harder.  “Yep, that’s the plan.”

Derek rolled his eyes and opened the door.

“Tell me how that works out, kid.”

“I will!” you called half-heartedly, sinking into your pillows.

You drove yourself to school instead of catching a ride with Liam and Scott.  The only class you had with him was English, which was at the end of the day.  Anyways, he’d probably be occupied with Meredith.

After parking, you started to open your car door but stopped as you saw him casually leaning against a handrail in front of the main office.  Opening the door again, this time more slowly, you walked quickly around the office and entered through the back door, sitting down in a seat as  far away from the window as possible.  

Class went by faster than you had expected.  Mr. Jones let you out a minute early, giving you enough time to leave the area before Liam would come and wait for you outside of your room.  

It was brunch, a time when you’d normally chat with the pack for the 10 minutes of break time allotted to the student body.  However, you instead slipped into Math and struck up a conversation with your teacher.  

The bell signalling the end of brunch rang, and Stiles was the first to walk into class.  He pursed his lips and threw his hands in the air after catching sight of you and moved towards you, but you quickly took a seat in the middle of a group of your peers, leaving him no seats in which he could quietly talk to you.  

With 5 minutes left in the period, you put away all your things, shouldered your backpack, and walked up to your teacher.

“Excuse me, I’m having an, um, emergency-”

“Go, go, yes, go,” babbled your teacher, not wanting to discuss the wonders of the female menstrual cycle with you.

Stiles immediately stood up to follow you, but your teacher glared at him, making him sit back down and glower at you.  

Great.  Even your pack was on his side.  

The extra five minutes gave you a chance to think about where you were going to eat lunch.  Eating with your pack was now not an option.  Eating with anyone at school, or even eating alone, wasn’t an option because they’d all try to find you.

The best choice would be driving to a nearby picnic site and eating in your car with the engine turned on.  Lonely, but logical.  

Lunch was terrible.  You’d sat alone in your car for 50 minutes, frantically checking over your shoulder every few moments to make sure your pack hadn’t found you.  

This was the class you’d been dreading: science.  You walked in 10 seconds before the bell rang, scanning the room for the empty seat farthest away from Liam, finding one in the corner next to the door.  

Feeling his eyes bore into your back, you bowed your head and pulled out your homework, refusing to look anywhere but your teacher, the whiteboard, and your notebook.  Someone handed you a folder sheet of binder paper.  Liam.  Crumpling it into a tiny ball, you tossed it into the recycling bin to your right and continued working.  

Five minutes left of class.  You packed your backpack and stood up, walking over to your teacher’s desk.  

“Excuse me, I’m having an emergency-”  They waved you towards the door as you heard the sound of a chair being pushed backwards.  Couldn’t he just leave you alone?

“I need to use the bathroom,” he asked.  By now, you were opening your car door, throwing your bag inside, and turning on the ignition, listening only with your werewolf senses.  “Y/N!”  he called, bolting towards you.  

You stepped on the gas, car zipping out of the parking lot but screeching to a stop as he jumped in front of you.  

Honking your horn, you locked your car doors and moved in reverse until he jumped on the hood of your car.  

“Y/N, I just wanna talk to you!” he called, pounding on your windshield, “I need 5 minutes!”

“You know what I need?  A restraining order, idiot!”  Didn’t he get that you just wanted to be left alone with your blanket and a pint of gelato?  

The sound of the lock on your car door clicking made you freeze.  Stiles grinned and waved, holding up a bobby pin (probably Malia’s) and opening the door.  

“After you,” he bowed, brandishing his arm from you towards Liam.  Scott leaned against the side of your car, watching you intently.  

“You should go talk to him, Y/N.”

Liam jumped off your car as you stepped out, Scott blocking your escape route.  Rats.  You swallowed, folding your arms against your chest.  

“You’ve got one minute.  Not because I want to hear you, but because Scott’s here.”  Liam bit his lip.  

“Y/N, when you were here yesterday, I didn’t want to talk to Meredith.  She just sort of started talking to me as soon as you came.”

You looked at Scott, who was nodding.  

“He told Meredith to leave him alone last night.”

Scott didn’t lie very often.

“Where were you after I got shanked?”  He rubbed the back of his neck, looking down at your feet.

“Um, that’s the thing.  I, uh, actually can’t tell you.”  You watched Scott walk over to Liam, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.  

“Pack meeting tonight at nine.  My house.”  The two of them walked towards Scott’s car, deep in conversation.  Stiles turned to you, grinning with too much cheeriness, and patted you on the back.  

“Can you drive me home?  You’re driving me home.  Great?  Great!”  You blinked tiredly,  sliding into the driver’s seat without a word.  “Y/N, I hate to say it, but you’re the blindest person I’ve ever met.”

“Total blindness can’t be measured on a scale-” you rattled off annoyingly, not in the mood to talk.

Stiles rolled his eyes and threw his hands in the air.

“You friendzoned Liam, Y/N!”  

What?

What.

Oh, shit.

That was why he hadn’t hung out with you: you had completely shattered his affection for you.  His actions were pretty justifiable.  

“Stiles?”  He looked over at you, in the middle of buckling his seatbelt.

“Yeah?”  

“I fucked up.”  He turned back to the road, nodded and making a face.

“Yep.”

“I pushed him away.”

“Exactly.”

“I made him sad.”

“Indubitably.”

“My best friend likes me.”

“Also true.”

“I like my best friend.”

“Ye- Does he know that?” he asked theatrically, rubbing his chin with his fingers, “Oh, wait, he doesn’t!”  

Seeing you start towards the car door, he grabbed your arm with surprising strength.  “Nope.  You’re not telling him now.  He’s having a talk with Scott.  You’re talking to him tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you muttered dazedly, starting the engine and heading home.  

You picked up Stiles on your way to Scott’s, showing up around 7.  Stiles continually gave you “tips”, like,

“Don’t stare at his crotch.  You’ll both end up horny.”

“Whatever you do, don’t kiss him.  Kiss him after he kisses you.”

“Speak from your heart.  Your vocal chords, but your heart.  Ja feel?  Ja feel.”

“Hey.  Hey.  You can do this.  I mean, even if he hates you now, you’re still in the same pack, so you’ll see him every- Actually, you know what?  I love ice cream.  Like, all ice cream.”

Pulling to a stop in front of the McCall house, you and Stiles got out and knocked on the front door.  

I still don’t understand why they would think that AI-ing or even breeding Kalia at all is a good idea. If SeaWorld had any sort of decent, respectable breeding program Kalia would be out of the running for several reasons.

First, Kalia is a mess of hybrid population genes. Various ‘Icelandic’ genes (keeping in mind that the Icelandic whales could be from any number of similar or different communities considering they never cared to check) mixed in with Southern Resident. Obviously something that would never happen in the wild, therefore breeding her contradicts anything they care to say about this captive population benefiting wild orca. If they gave a shit at all, they’d at the very least be trying to keep bloodlines pure as they would remain in the wild. That said we all know genetic hybrids can never be released for fear of damaging wild populations, so I guess that’s a selling point for SeaWorld. How responsible.

Second, and probably most importantly, Kalia is related to any whale out of Kasatka or Katina and their respective offspring, that alone should almost put her out of the question as they are two of the most successful breeders SeaWorld have ever had, and their genes already flood the pool. Katina’s genes are relatively small percentage wise, but still there, and this relates Kalia in small part to:

  • Unna
  • Ikaika
  • Nalani
  • Makaio

and any offspring they might potentially have.

Even if we totally disregard that and say perhaps wild whales could potentially inbreed to a similar degree due to the closeness of their communities, her more immediate living relatives and animals her wild counterparts would most likely avoid breeding with as to avoid genetic bottlenecking (parents, siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, nieces and nephews) still include:

  • Kasatka
  • Keet
  • Takara
  • Nakai
  • Makani
  • Skyla
  • Keto
  • Tuar
  • Trua
  • Kohana
  • Sakari
  • Kamea
  • Adan

So out of the 29 orca currently owned by SeaWorld (including those at Loro Parque), 13 are fairly closely related to Kalia, which, correct me if I’m wrong as math certainly is not my strong point, comes to 44.8% of the current living population. That’s almost half. Introducing Ulises genes into that bottlenecked mess serves them absolutely no purpose except potentially having one more whale for a while. His genes are valuable to SeaWorld, but breeding him with Kalia will only invalidate them and the offspring will be almost genetically useless. You can’t breed it with any of its relatives, but if you breed it with any of the Tilikum relatives you’ve come full circle and virtually closed the gene pool right down as his genes make up the other half. It would be related to almost every whale in the collection.

We know they’ve been trying to get Shouka pregnant, and while it would still sadden me if they were successful, she is 100% more suitable and appropriate for any sort of respectable breeding program. She’s 21, she’s in her breeding prime in line with that of wild whales, and she’s only genetically related to a handful of captive orca worldwide. Her genes alone with Ulises genes virtually create a new line for SeaWorld. It doesn’t seem to have worked with Shouka yet, so what - just breed whatever’s left hanging around? That is NOT responsible practice. That is desperation. And don’t even get me started on locking animals in small pools together in order to knock them up, because that’s almost as bad as AI, and not not even nearly 'natural’.

Thirdly, she’s only nine years old, and she would have been 8 when they inseminated her if her due date is in December. I don’t even think I have to go into this. Just because her body is cycling does not mean she is completely ready (I’m talking body AND mind here), and inseminating her takes that choice away from her. It doesn’t matter if she wasn’t psychologically ready for it, she just has to be now, it’s either that or she and/or the calf die. 

It sickens me that SeaWorld have the nerve to spout shit about their fantastic breeding program when it is little more than an artificially fucked with, genetic mess of hybrids set to see a future full of inbreeding that, by the time they’re done fucking with it, will have zero benefit to any wild population. A bunch of hybrid inbred messes are no representation of a functioning, wild community of orca and anyone with half a brain should be able to recognise this. 

WAYP Spotlight: Lora Mathis

Did you always think you were going to be a writer?

There was never really a moment when I decided I would become a writer. I write things. And I have been since I was..eight? Nine? I started out writing short stories and became more serious about writing when I was a teenager. But even though I’ve been writing for awhile, I haven’t always felt like I deserved to call myself a “writer.” I didn’t feel comfortable branding myself as one until about two years ago, when I was 20.

What is your writing process like?

My writing process is spontaneous. It comes in spurts. Something will inspire me and I will write five poems, all at once. I typically do not sit down with the intention to write. Lines pop into my head and I go from there. Sometimes this happens when I’m out with friends, sometimes when I’m in class, often in the morning when I am still in my own private headspace. 


How do you combat “writer’s block?”

Writer’s block produces frustrating feelings that I will never be able to write again, that I’ve reached my “peak” and that’s it- I’m all drained of words. It’s easy to get stuck in the cycle of those thoughts, but now when I feel like the poems aren’t coming out easily, I give them time to grow. I work on another project, I go see friends, I read a book, I write down what I can-even if it’s trash. The good words-the ones I want to write-always come back. Sometimes it just takes some time.

What inspires you to write a poem?

A great poem someone else wrote. A hand on the thigh. Thinking about apologies I wish I didn’t give. Thinking about moments I should have tended to more lovingly. Want. Need. Loss. Desire. Anger. The endless struggle to both be comfortable with myself and shed myself completely. That hard biting razor blade feeling that makes its way down my throat and coats my tongue in blood. That’s inspiration to me. It’s two hands around my neck that refuse to be ignored. 

Tell us about your latest book to be released through Where Are You Press!

“The Women Widowed To Themselves” is a collection of honest, to-the-point poems that I wrote in order to heal. Themes of depression, emotional abuse, and a lack of sexual control are mixed in with themes of female empowerment, determination, and personal growth. I’m excited to share these poems. They’re bloody. They’re personal. They’re my kids and they’re so so ready to belong to others.

 Any new projects you’re excited about?

I’ve been working on a photo series titled “A Conversation With Flowers,” which explores the symbolism of flowers through portraiture and still-life photography. I’m hoping to make a book of those photos with poetry which has flower imagery. What else? Making zines. Creating a strong photographic portfolio. Exploring Portland (I just moved here!) Writing poems, as always. Compiling these poems. Seeing how they grow on their own.


We’re so excited to publish Lora’s new book and to have her working with us on our team!

xoxo WAYP

All The Small Things

Sorry I’ve been quiet for the past week or so. I’ve been moving house and haven’t had a lot of internet access. Anyway, I wrote this this weekend; just a little something based on a few anon requests. I’m open to further requests based on this ‘verse, if that’s something you guys would like. Let me know in my inbox.
I’ve tried my best to remain as close to what I perceive to be the truth as possible where appropriate, but please remember that this is intended to be enjoyed as a work of fiction.


Grace isn’t sure how she feels about babies. Grester. SFW. 4,229 words.

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