#Bulldozer Tracks Parts

[cliksteelchina]

Bulldozer Tracks Parts - Steel CLIK Limited

Cliksteel offers high-quality Bulldozer Tracks Parts at the best possible prices in China. It is utilize interconnected parts like chains, shoes, sprockets, and rollers to enable heavy machinery movement, ensuring traction, stability, and efficient operation on diverse terrains. For more information call us @ +862152839060

[homelanderbutbig]

The Milk Box (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1270 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Established relationship.

You and Homelander share some milk. Inspired by a conversation with @sehtoast, and a suggestion by @slasher-smasher.

It started out as a joke gift for Homelander, a subscription to 'The Milk Box' where every month he would be shipped a crate of specialty milk. Initially, he took one look at this box and scoffed, rolling his eyes at this silly present you got for him. However, it did not take long for the monthly milk arrival to become an anticipated event.  

Today's the day the next shipment is set to be delivered, and Homelander is stressed. The waiting is the hardest part for the man who can have anything at the snap of his fingers, but he displays a high level of restraint from flying to the post office and retrieving the box himself, because he knows how annoyed you'd be with him. Instead, he's pestering Ashley every five minutes for an update on the box's tracking location. Yelling at her to keep him informed every second, while he's pacing back and forth in an attempt to stay grounded.

And then, the moment finally comes. The second the mailman enters Vought Tower with the package, Homelander is rushing to your office, practically bulldozing through your door. It doesn't even matter to him that you are in the middle of a meeting, this is more important.

You barely have time to understand what is happening before you are yanked away from your computer, held close against his chest with one of his immovable hands. He whisks you into the nearest elevator, giving its occupants just enough time to run out, before he hits the button to take you both up to his penthouse. Yet, it can't move fast enough as he bounces in anticipation.

The instant the elevator dings, he moves so fast into the penthouse he practically flies to the dining room, taking his seat while keeping you propped up on his lap. He's left a knife out on the table for you to open the package, as it's become tradition during these unboxing days. With a large hand on your shoulder, he watches intently as you slice along the packing tape. Even though the scent of dairy is overtaking his sense of smell, he suppresses his X-ray vision to not spoil the surprise of this shipment's contents.

Finally, the suspension is relieved as you open the box, unveiling the twelve glass bottles of specialty milk. They are chilled to a perfect temperature thanks to the dry ice packed around each bottle. Homelander is fixated on your hands as you carefully remove each bottle from the box, lining them up in front of the both of you. This month's crate comes from a local farm, featuring 1% milk, 2% milk, whole milk, chocolate milk, and unhomogenized milk.

Grabbing two bottles of the unhomogenized milk, Homelander's favourite, you pass one to him as you both unscrew your lids. He takes the time to deeply inhale through his nose, closing his eyes as the intoxicating dairy scent floods into his lungs.

You both take a sip of the milk, though your reaction is a lot more subdued than Homelander's. What you taste is very similar to the regular milk you drink. For him, it's a feast for his taste buds. The low-fat milk bottom portion dances between textures of smooth, creamy, and silky; the high-fat cream top portion coats his tongue with consistencies of sweet, foamy, and rich. He can perceive the faint tones of grass from the cow's diet, and the freshness of the farmer's harvest.

Regardless, it's not just about the taste of the milk. As a child created in a lab, he never had the opportunity to know his real mother, or be raised by an actual family. He was never able to relate to your childhood memories, having a cold glass of milk every day after school. In a way, drinking milk is the closest thing he has to connect to the childhood he missed out on, and nothing makes it better than being able to share this comforting experience with you, a person who truly cares for him.

"Mmm…" he mumbles, tipping his head back with his eyes still closed. His tense shoulders are now totally slack, letting go of the stress he's been holding onto all day, solely waiting for this moment.

"You like it?" you ask him, stroking his hand that is still on your shoulder.

"Yeah. They got a good batch this time," he remarks, licking his lips before downing the rest of the bottle. It leaves a delectable aftertaste on his tongue.

"What do you mean? Is unhomogenized milk not the same each time?" you ponder. To you, it tastes the same every month.

"Really?" he huffs in disbelief. Homelander takes his hand from your shoulder to start listing off on his fingers. "There's… there's so much that can effect the taste of milk! If there are preservatives or additives, what temperature it's pasteurized at, what the cow is eating… D-do you even know how the differences of the fat content can change the taste?"

You look up at him silently, grinning as he goes off on a tangent about the history of milk pasteurization and homogenization. Your innocent question about one of his passions has very easily gotten him riled up, although it doesn't take much to get him going on topics he loves. He's like a walking encyclopedia, and you cherish seeing him so invested in his hobby of learning new things.

"I love you, you know," you chuckle, leaning your head back onto his pecs. You catch a glimpse of Homelander's brain shutting down from your sudden praise. You took him right out of the middle of a rant, and instantly flustered him with your honest affection.

Putting your bottle down on the table, you turn around and kneel on his thighs so your face is up to his own. You giggle as he tries to angle away from you, hiding that his cheeks have turned red. However, he doesn't fight when you place your hands on his jaw and coax his face back towards you. His eyes are big blue windows into his soul, exposing how easily you overwhelm his emotions with the little ways you love him. But you can just as easily settle him down with those same little ways.

You lean in for a kiss, and bring your hands up to run them through his undercut. Almost immediately, Homelander sighs and closes his eyes, placing his hands on your back so he can sink into you. He purrs from the way your nails scratch his scalp, quickly letting go of that self-consciousness he felt from you bamboozling his train of thought with a simple 'I love you'.

When you break from your kiss, you keep your foreheads pressed together. His eyes open to gaze directly at you, now so serene. It's like you know how to flip the switch in his brain when he needs to calm down.

"You wanna have another bottle of milk? I'd love for you to tell me more about the different kinds," you say softly, caressing his cheek. A sneaky smile slowly spreads across his face.

"I haven't even gotten to modern milk production techniques yet," he chuckles, nuzzling into your nose. You can't help but laugh, but you know he's serious.

And you look forward to it, just to let Homelander have a chance to partake in something he wasn't permitted to enjoy when he was young. Just to allow him to get in touch with his inner child he neglects so heavily. Just to see that childlike innocence buried within himself have a chance to shine.

[rebeccathenaturalist]

Environmental Generational Amnesia: When We Forget Nature’s Past

Originally posted at my blog at https://rebeccalexa.com/environmental-generational-amnesia/

One of the most traumatic and formative experiences of my life occurred when I was thirteen years old. The woods that I loved exploring behind our yard were completely bulldozed one day; I discovered this when I got off the bus from school. It was part of the destruction of an entire wild area that would become yet another subdivision devoid of trees and vines and wildflowers, with no place left for bobwhite quail or garter snakes in the flat green lawns. I was devastated, and in an attempt to try to help me my mom chatted with the developer when she happened to run into her in town. “She knows how you feel,” my mom said. “Her woods were the ones that were torn down to make the junior high track.” Not only did it just not make sense to me that someone who had been through what I was experiencing would then go on to do the same horrible acts, but it was also my first introduction to the reality of environmental generational amnesia.

The term was coined a few years ago in a paper by Peter Kahn and Thea Weiss. It refers to how each generation considers how it first experienced a place as its true baseline, and any change that comes after it is abnormal or unnatural. So for me, the track at my junior high with just a line of trees along the creek was my understanding of its baseline, but the developer remembered that land as acres of woods. A hundred years ago it may have been a farm. Go back several generations to when only the Osage lived here, and it was probably undamaged oak savanna, or perhaps a tallgrass prairie.

When you multiply that shifting understanding of the “normal” state of a place by all the people in a given area, something is bound to be lost as generations die off, and new ones are born into the present state. Couple that with a serious lack of nature literacy, and you have fewer people discussing what the place is versus what it once was.

In cases where almost all the land has been significantly changed by human activity for centuries, it can be incredibly challenging to piece together what it was like before we came through and wrought such imbalances. The only evidence may remain in a few remote undamaged patches, scraps of partial plant and animal communities, and oral and written information passed down by people, whether indigenous or colonizing. Sometimes ecologists and other scientists need to look at the ecosystems of neighboring areas to get some idea of what might have been here before. It’s often a matter of trying to piece together an incomplete puzzle, giving best educated guesses as to what filled the empty niches.

If you have a population that has a dim memory at best of what a place looked like before it was changed at all, they’re less likely to understand when there’s a problem. I knew, for example, that it was wrong to tear down the woods behind my home, but my baseline was “mix of trees and shrubs of various species surrounding a creek with a limestone bed next to a twenty year old subdivision.” No one could tell me what that farm looked like before it became a farm, and I didn’t understand at the time that the mix of plants and animals I knew and loved were neither the complete original assortment, nor were they all native. How was I to know that my yard was once spacious grassland, dotted with white oak here and there? How should I have come to understand that the woods I had cherished were badly out of ecological balance compared to what had once been, that they were exhibiting signs of recolonization after multiple massive disturbances before I was even born?

And this is just one example of one person’s understanding of one place. This environmental generational amnesia has rippling effects worldwide, with people not understanding that the rivers nearby aren’t supposed to be as stick-straight as they are, that the coastline should be covered in wetlands rather than open sand, that the dense forest is only there because natural fires were suppressed and allowed the trees to take over the last meadows. There are even those who have no idea that their air, water, and soil aren’t supposed to be loaded with pollutants, because pollution is all they’ve known for generations. It’s tough to imagine an extinct wetland when you can’t even see the water for the trash, and the sky is brown instead of blue.

It’s not going to be an easy task to try to revive the collective memory of Lands That Were. A good starting point is to talk to our elders, both alive and dead. When we ask those who still live what they remember of a place, we can glean important details even if they themselves weren’t ecologists, or formal scientists of any other sort. If we can take them to these places and have them show us where important landmarks were and describe what has changed, we can start to see more clearly what’s been lost. And when we read the writings and view the landscape art of those who are long passed, we get important snapshots of what was there long before any of us today were alive, tracing that ecological story closer to its origin.

We also need, more than ever, to preserve what ancient ecosystems still remain, whether that’s old growth forests, or prairies that never knew the tearing of the plow, or wetlands never drained or polluted. We can’t just miraculously replace them in a matter of a few years, and they offer us crucial pictures of the end goal in places where  we are attempting long-term habitat restoration. They are living, breathing records of what places looked like before, of the biodiversity and other natural structures that were in place for thousands of years.

Finally, we need to be talking openly about the disconnect between what is and what was. If I, as an incredibly nature-obsessed kid, was startled to think about how my “normal” was only a faint shadow of past ecological glory, then imagine how jarring it must be for someone who is further removed from nature to understand that the forest they walk through is really supposed to be a prairie. (Especially after many years of being told that “planting trees” is the answer to all the ecological problems we face!)

With time and education we can bring about awareness, and that awareness will help us make better decisions for the future. There are so many people who want to undo ecological destruction and make the world a better place; we just need to have better, more accurate information out there on what can be reasonably done. Much of that hinges on having a clearer idea of what’s been lost, so that we can make plans to save whatever is left, and restore as much as we can.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Boy Meets Cat, Boy Meets Girl

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

prompt: kid fic or pet fic

contents: the feelings that come w/ temporarily losing a pet, meetcute, flirting

wc: 1,334

an: another promotional fic for @moonknight-events! steven is just…one of the sweetest, cutest men ever. written w/ the Marc’s girls server in mind, iykyk!

DISCLAIMER: as a event runner i will not be entered in the drawing for prizes. this is promotional only.

SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist

She’s sitting on the steps one day outside the museum after Steven’s shift. He almost walks right past her, bumbling down the steps with a soft hum. It’s been a long day of being yelled at atop getting sleep that just isn’t restful. He’s exhausted. He’s unobservant.

He’s nearly past her when he hears it— a loud, scratchy meow that catches his attention. Steven stops in his tracks, blinking rapidly.

Had he just heard a cat? On the museum steps? Sleep deprivation really was getting to him, wasn’t it?

He turns towards the sound, sure that there will be nothing there, that he is just hearing things. But there she is, perched on the museum steps as if she owns the place. She looks like a little heap of snow— her fur is fluffy and a stark white color that contrasts with her dark eyes and pink nose. He lets out a little sound of surprise, and then she meows back as if she’s answering him.

He laughs, a bright and cheery sound. “Well, hello there little one. Lost are we?”

She meows again, this time a little softer and if Steven wasn’t mistaken, a little sadder. He softens, taking a few cautious steps toward her so as not to spook her. When she does seem skittish, staying in place despite him closing the gap he simply sits beside her on the steps.

“Do you have a name, little one? Can I look at your collar? Promise I’ll be gentle,” He says, reaching his hand out to her.

She leans forward on her front paws, sniffing at the back of his hand before giving out a soft purr. She bumps his hand with the top of her head, nuzzling.

Steven takes this opportunity to reach under her chin, scratching gently before he leans in to peer at her collar.

“Iris— what a pretty name for a pretty cat.”

Another meow as Iris bulldozes her way into his lap. Steven gives her a series of pats, setting off several purrs that he feels vibrating through her spine. She's so fluffy, so soft. He could pet her for all his days. It’s nice to have this companionship, even if it’s just a cat. Hell, it beats talking to the statuer at the fountain in the park and Iris hasn’t spoken a word.

You know for a moment there, I wondered if you were the goddess Bastet,” He whispers playfully, like he’s keeping a big secret. Iris simply meows, using her paws to slip down and lay across Steven’s thighs. “Aren’t you cold? Is that a silly question given your fur coat?”

Steven lets himself sit, idly petting Iris as he watches the sun slowly disappear behind the London skyline. He’s completely charmed with this cat, with the peaceful feeling her company brings. Part of him selfishly thinks about taking her home and keeping her as his own. But, he knows if he’s this fond of her in a short period of time her owner is probably grief-stricken to be without her. He’ll take her home for the night and use his off day to pursue leads on her owner. Perhaps Marc could help with the tracking. For tonight though, he has some company and the idea has Steven rising to his feet, Iris in tow.

“How’s about we head on home and watch a movie? Are you a fan of Meerkat Manor? Or will seeing them scurry about get you revved up?” He whispers, ignoring the weird glances he’s getting from passersby.

As expected, Iris simply gives out a soft meow, snuggling further into Steven’s hold. He grins, raising a hand to pet her head as he rounds the corner, effectively running into someone.

“Iris! There you are. Oh my god, thank you. Thank you,” You gasp, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

If Steven thought he was charmed by Iris, he must come up with a word that holds more meaning at the sight of you. Your cheeks are tear-stained, eyes a mixture of happiness and guilt. Your brows are pinched together, and he has the urge to reach up and smooth out the wrinkle between them. The urge to soothe you. Even during the short walk, Steven had imagined his reluctance to give Iris back to her owner, but that’s all melted away now that you’re right in front of him. So, so beautiful.

“You’re Iris’ mum?”

“Yes. Fuck, thank you so much. I can’t– I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. I owe you.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I simply stumbled upon her outside the museum after work. I was gonna start looking for her owner tomorrow, imagined it was too late. But look at you, as diligent as ever.”

“The museum? What were you doing there?” You ask Iris before looking up at the man to whom you practically owe your life again. He’s very handsome, a little tired-looking but his eyes are warm, and his hair is fluffy curls. She’s everything to me,” You explain, squeezing Iris to your cheek, doing some nuzzling of your own.

Iris has clearly learned her affectionate manners from you.

Steven’s mind quickly wanders, wondering what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of your affection. He bats the thought away, flushing. “I can imagine, she’s a little charmer. Plopped herself right in my lap.”

“I’m surprised she got this close to you, she’s incredibly picky. She must sense that you’re a lovely person.”

“Well–I– I’m glad to live up to Iris’ standards. She seems to have good taste. Animals sort of choose their owners don’t they?”

“Thanks,” You murmur shyly, feeling your own cheeks fill with warmth. “I know that folks can say being a pet parent is cringy, but I really am lucky to be her mom. She has such an energy to her.”

“Warm. Calm,” Steven supplies, reaching out to pet Iris’ head, if only for the last time. She nuzzles into his hand and he smiles.

Your eyes track his hand, still a little surprised at how easily Iris is letting him pet her. She had hated almost every person you’d brought back to your apartment except a handful of friends. But, any romantic prospects had quickly made themselves scarce given your mean, overprotective cat.

“Exactly.”

“Well Miss Iris, I guess we won’t be getting to watch Meerkat Manor after all will we? Perhaps your mum could show.”

“Meerkat Manor?”

“It follows a little family of meerkats through the desert. Their struggles, their connections, their enemies. All sorts of things.”

“I’ve always been a fan of animal docs.”

“Yeah? I could recommend you loads of them.”

“I would really like that. I don’t think I got your name?”

“Steven.”

“Steven,” You repeat softly before giving him your name. “It’s really lovely to meet you. This is bold of me but…maybe we could see each other again?

Steven’s mouth drops open, eyes wide in surprise. “Really?”

“I told you I owe you and well– Iris seems to like you a lot. Maybe I could make you dinner as repayment and we could watch some meerkats live their lives.”

“I– yeah. Yeah, alright, I would love to.”

You and Steven quickly exchange contacts. He gives Iris a few more pets before rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Sound alright?” He asks, voice hopeful.

“Sounds great,” You confirm.

You shift Iris into the crook of your elbow, and to Steven’s surprise, wrap him in a one-armed hug as you whisper him a soft thanks. His response is delayed but he hugs you back, surrounded by your warmth and soft scent. After a few beats you pull away, giving him a smile as the two of you exchange temporary goodbyes. Steven makes his way back to his flat with a wide grin, grateful that Iris had brought the two of you together. Cat in arms, butterflies in stomach you walk home feeling much the same.

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch,  @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb , @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

[east-blue-samurai-ii]

Straw Hats as Rock Climbers

Because I've been climbing for a year and a half now and I have Opinions

Zoro is the local stealth crusher who took up rock climbing as a form of training for kendou. Being an internationally ranked athlete in a different sport, he quickly picks up climbing and eats through the grades, with a particular emphasis on bouldering and, later, lead climbing. He befriends the setters (Johnny and Yosaku) and eventually just gets hired on as a setter part-time. Some of the problems he sets are above V10 and the gym places bounties on them for anyone who can send them. However, because climbing isn’t his main focus or passion, he rarely competes except in local comps at the insistence of his friends and doesn’t really broadcast when he sends impressive outdoor boulders and routes. While he mostly focuses on his own climbs while at the gym, he’s super encouraging to other climbers as well, pushing them to overcome their fears and limits and is happy for them when they tell him they finally sent that climb they’ve been projecting for almost a month. The team kids look up to him and he’s very encouraging of the younger kids, especially the ones who need an extra push to get over their fear of heights or falling.

Luffy took up climbing as a side hobby after Zoro got into it. At first, he just wanted to spend more time with his friend and a climbing gym sounded way more fun than weightlifting, but after his first visit, he was already hooked. Luffy is a very dynamic climber who incorporates a lot of movement and flexibility into his style. He loves climbs with lots of dynos and hates static climbs that require a lot of precise body positioning. He doesn’t like climbing shoes, though, and while the staff won’t let him climb barefoot, he did find a pair of barefoot shoes that worked for him. His main sport is MMA, so climbing for him is just for fun, but he finds it so much fun he eventually drags a bunch of his friends into it. Similarly to Zoro, he is very encouraging of other climbers, but has a tendency to bulldoze over a lot of gym etiquette which eventually got him a Talk from the staff. He never projects anything, getting bored of things he can’t send in a few climbs, so he doesn’t really progress like Zoro does and is brutally honest - often to the point of insensitivity - about the sets. He hates Zoro’s setting because it’s “too hard and no fun” and Zoro reminds him that climbing is just like martial arts and if he wants to get better he actually has to try and not just give up on problems he can’t send. Needless to say, Luffy doesn’t like that logic and progresses at a snail’s pace because of it.

Nami is Zoro and Luffy’s best friend who showed up to the gym one day to track them down because she couldn’t get ahold of them and somehow ended up getting roped into trying it herself by a very insistent and convincing group of women. She ended up enjoying it a lot more than she thought she would, but the sticker shock of membership and gear pricing hit her pretty hard. Thankfully, the group of women that dragged her into climbing with them offer to get her in on their guest swipes and even sell her their used gear at super discounted prices. She doesn’t really climb in the gym much, far preferring outdoor climbing with her new friends. The social aspect of climbing appeals to her far more than the physical and she ends up becoming quite close with the women she climbs with. 

Usopp is the newbie climber that gets reluctantly dragged to the gym by Luffy. He’s scared of heights, scared of falling, of the rope breaking, the harness failing, the auto belay malfunctioning, etc, etc. However, once he starts to conquer those anxieties, he takes to climbing in the same way he took to sharpshooting, engineering, and art. Usopp quickly becomes a regular, becoming even more invested in the sport than Zoro and Luffy, doing tons of research, watching all sorts of technique videos, and even hitting the gym along with Zoro for strength and conditioning. He generally prefers rope climbing because it feels a lot safer than bouldering, but steps out of his comfort zone more and more as his skill level and confidence increase. He finds he loves outdoor climbing, though he is too terrified to even try trad climbing, and goes with Zoro and the others sometimes or with other people he befriended at the gym. He does not participate in comps, however, as the idea of competing doesn't much appeal to him. He eventually starts a climbing blog where he posts advice, climbing stories, and gear reviews. He does have a bad habit of beta spraying and over-boasting, however, but he learns to temper that over time.

Sanji doesn’t really climb. He’s seen what climbing does to a person’s hands, and, since his livelihood relies on his ability to use them, doesn’t want to risk injuring them. A pulley injury would be devastating for his productivity. However, the combined efforts of Luffy and Usopp eventually wear him down enough to at least try. He thinks it’s alright, really not his cup of tea, but he was at least surprised to learn that climbing was a much more leg-heavy sport than he initially anticipated. He comes around every once-in-a-while when the others drag him to the gym, but otherwise doesn’t have enough investment in the sport to go on his own. He's perfectly content to stick only to savate. He does, however, make sure to adjust the others’ meal plans to account for climbing. 

Chopper is one of the younger kids who was enrolled in classes by Dr. Kureha off a promotional flyer to force him to do something active and socialize. His first time at the gym, he meets Luffy, Usopp, and Zoro and while they’re rather crazy, Luffy’s childish antics, Usopp’s funny stories, and Zoro’s solid encouragement really make an impression on him. It takes him a while to bond with the other kids in his class, but finds he prefers hanging out with Luffy’s crazy crew anyway. Chopper especially takes to Zoro who he thinks is just the coolest and wants to be just like him. Dr. Kureha is wary of them at first as any protective parent would be, but her fears are assuaged when she finally meets them, realizes they’re a lot younger than Chopper had made them out to be, and gets a good read on their character. Dr. Hiriluk had enrolled him in karate classes when he was younger that he stopped going to after the man’s passing, but ends up being encouraged to start them back up by his new friends. As a climber, he progresses steadily, paying very close attention to pre-hab and conditioning to prevent injuries. He is prone to rattle off medical facts and give out rehab advice to other climbers based off the extensive dive into sports medicine he’d been doing since he started climbing. He is especially on Zoro’s case who shows a very concerning pattern of ignoring the orders of his doctors and physical therapist and going way harder than he should while recovering from injuries. 

Robin comes to the gym with the others, but only gets on the wall sometimes. Mostly, she enjoys watching them, occasionally with a book in hand. She took the belay course and got certified so that she could act as a belayer for the others when they needed one, but otherwise mostly sticks to the sidelines. She’s made friends with the staff and often gets into rather intense discussions with them and other climbers considering topics she has expertise in. 

Being a double amputee, Franky finds climbing an invigorating challenge. There are a lot of climbs he can’t do, but he steadily finds work arounds and techniques that work with his prosthetics (or sometimes without) for a number of them. He’s a pro when it comes to campusing, but a lot of slab climbs just generally aren’t possible for him. Even so, he enjoys the sport and enters local comps for the hell of it. He hasn't placed in anything, but he's a well-loved fixture at them and enthusiastically cheers the other climbers on.

Brook is an old trad climber who spent much of his younger years climbing outdoors with his bandmates in their downtime. He’s done some pretty well-known multi-pitch climbs in his day and has a wealth of stories to tell the younger generations. He wasn’t a huge fan of climbing gyms at first and the way climbing has been evolving because of them, but he comes around to it and starts to enjoy watching what the newer generation of climbers is up to. Despite his age, he’s still quite fit and does hit up the gym on occasion during the off-season. Mostly, he enjoys taking the others out to his old crag and introducing them to trad climbing. 

Jinbe doesn’t much care for climbing. He’s more of a swimmer, and much prefers water sports. However, like Robin, he does enjoy coming to watch the others and share conversation with her, the staff, and the other climbers. Like Robin, he gets a belay certification and can be found not just belaying the other Straw Hats, but also other climbers around the gym. 

[lesbianchemicalplant]

STARR COUNTY, Texas — The Biden administration announced today that for the first time it will waive environmental, public health and cultural resource protection laws to fast-track construction of the U.S.-Mexico border wall in Texas. The administration says it will take “immediate action to construct barriers and roads” along the border, including through fragile habitat near the Lower Rio Grande Valley National Wildlife Refuge. “It’s disheartening to see President Biden stoop to this level, casting aside our nation’s bedrock environmental laws to build ineffective wildlife-killing border walls,” said Laiken Jordahl, Southwest conservation advocate at the Center for Biological Diversity. “Starr County is home to some of the most spectacular and biologically important habitat left in Texas and now bulldozers are preparing to rip right through it. This is a horrific step backwards for the borderlands.” The waiver sweeps aside 26 laws that protect clean air, clean water, public lands, endangered wildlife and Indigenous grave sites. The announcement marks the first time the Biden administration has used the REAL ID Act waiver authority. “Every acre of habitat left in the Rio Grande Valley is irreplaceable,” said Jordahl. “We can’t afford to lose more of it to a useless, medieval wall that won’t do a thing to stop immigration or smuggling. President Biden’s cynical decision to destroy crucial wildlife habitat and seal the beautiful Rio Grande behind a grotesque border wall must be stopped.” Wall construction in Starr County could harm recovery plans for endangered ocelots, which depend on contiguous wildlife corridors of protected habitat along the Rio Grande. Two endangered plants, the Zapata bladderpod and prostrate milkweed, are endemic to the area and will likely also be threatened by wall construction with their protections stripped by the waiver. Last month, the U.S. Government Accountability Office released a damning report detailing the severe damage the border wall has caused to wildlife, public lands, and Indigenous sacred sites and burial grounds along the U.S.-Mexico border. Beyond jeopardizing wildlife, endangered species and public lands, the U.S.-Mexico border wall is part of a larger strategy of ongoing border militarization that damages human rights, civil liberties, native lands and international relations. The border wall impedes the natural migrations of people and wildlife that are essential to healthy diversity. Today’s action seeks to waive the following laws: 1. National Environmental Policy Act 2. Endangered Species Act 3. Native American Graves Protection and Repatriation Act 4. American Indian Religious Freedom Act 5. Federal Water Pollution Control Act 6. National Historic Preservation Act 7. Migratory Bird Treaty Act 8. Migratory Bird Conservation Act 9. Clean Air Act 10. National Wildlife Refuge System Administration Act 11. Eagle Protection Act 12. National Fish and Wildlife Act of 1956 13. Fish and Wildlife Coordination Act 14. Archeological Resources Protection Act 15. Paleontological Resources Preservation Act 16. Safe Drinking Water Act 17. Archaeological and Historic Preservation Act 18. Noise Control Act 19. Solid Waste Disposal Act, as amended by the Resource Conservation and Recovery Act 20. Comprehensive Environmental Response, Compensation, and Liability Act 21. Antiquities Act 22. Historic Sites, Buildings, and Antiquities Act 23. Farmland Protection Policy Act 24. National Trails System Act 25. Administrative Procedure Act 26. Federal Land Policy and Management Act

(October 4th, 2023)

[tangent101]

Thoughts on Dariax and Deni$e reuniting

I just had an interesting thought after someone commented on Matt's suggestion that Deni$e was a bit toxic... and that's that I think both characters have grown a bit since then.

First, there's Deni$e. She's been tracking down Dariax for a while, was getting close (she thinks), got whisked away to the ass-end of nowhere, and then she got to meet several people, including one who was friends with Dariax. And they went on some crazy ass adventure and part of that was one of their companions being murderous and crazy and hiding it well... and then when she returned to reach Dariax she missed him again.

In fact, she's been just shy of him for the past two weeks - 14 days to be specific. And in the last day or two? Dariax got to watch his friends break apart. He lost Opal, after trying so hard to save her. Another friend left with Cyrus' soul (whose body he saw lying there while Dorian flew away, forced by Opal's magic which tugged his own path as well). A third stayed with Opal. He and Dorian then traveled to Zephrah... and then he was abandoned again. This time by Dorian.

Deni$e scares Dariax. But what scares him more... is being alone. The fact that Deni$e tracked him down, did so for weeks... I think that is going to mean something to him. He fled from her. He was scared of what was there, he felt like he was being bulldozered along or the like, and then when everyone else abandoned him and he was feeling like he was driving everyone else away?

This dwarven lady finds him. She wants to be with him. Yes, she's angry and she's probably going to slug Dariax... but then she's going to kiss him and just... be "we're traveling together from now on. And if you run again? I'll find you again. Because we belong together." Translation: I want to be with you.

It's the end of the world as we know it. But the man who doesn't want to be alone... is going to be found by someone he abandoned, and she wants to be with him. How do you think that's going to make him feel? That maybe, just maybe... it's not him who's to blame? That he doesn't drive his friends away? That it was just... fate?

I think the two of them are going to do a lot of growing together, and a bit of healing as well. And I think it'll do them both good. Whether they stay together or eventually break up? Who knows? But in the short term, Deni$e finding Dariax will do him a world of good.

At least, that's my thought on it.

[bonefall]

Why did Runningbrook get shot? That’s a pretty horrifying way to die, especially if any other cat was nearby to see it happen :(

It was!

So this time, the Suburban Expansion of TNP is getting overhauled. I've actually sat down and worked out a couple human factions; the

Land Owners (Windovers)

Unnamed Development Company (Devco)

The Scientists.

The cats won't be able to notice that there isn't just one group of humans at play here, but you will be able to notice them if you pay close attention to what's happening during the first part of TNP. The three groups interact very differently with Clan cats.

The FIRST group at play here, and the one that isn't a player for very long, is the Windovers. It's openly known by the locals that the cats in the woods are 'a bit strange', especially the farmers near WindClan. The Windovers own that land, and lease it out to various hunters and visitors and such.

But they've been approached by Devco, who want to expand Chelford by purchasing their land.

Problem that the Windovers have: If it gets out there are sapient cats, complete with religion, war, and possibly even tool use (rumored but unconfirmed) there's going to be a HUGE problem in selling it.

SO they're trying to 'quietly' deal with the pests. First they poisoned the rabbits, knowing that they eat those. That worked a bit. Next, they tried to scare them off by actively setting deadly animal traps, and taking shots as if they're pest rabbits. That was how Runningbrook died.

(If I end up moving away from gun, she will end up dying to some sort of snare. The point here though is that it's a, "Wait! They're trying to hurt us!" moment)

Around this point, the sale goes through and suddenly Windover persecution stops. NOT their problem anymore, THANK god, Windovers Exit Stage Right.

But at this point, the Clan cats are well aware that they are being actively targeted. Several cats were poisoned, injured, or outright killed. Devco begins development, first cutting through the trees near the Thunderpath, and eventually bringing in the Bulldozer

Which, Speckletail deals with! Buying them just a bit more time. Suddenly, it's calm for a bit, like they're "mourning their monster."

But THIS is actually the moment where Millie's Radio Collar begins; a cat attacking a construction worker is not something that can be ignored, it's all over the news, "CAT ATTACKS BULLDOZER, CLAIMS LABOURER."

(The Windovers got out just in time, they KNEW something like this was going to happen but now it's Devco's problem)

So this is where the Scientists come in. There's a huge clamor over this, Locals saying, "THE CATS ARE SPECIAL," others saying they need to be removed and rehomed, in any case, it's agreed that the White Hart west of the road needs to be de-catted before construction continues (though construction continues to the west, where ShadowClan is)

And this is when the "round-up" efforts come in, where there are live traps, a big white tent set up, and the cats are going to get weighed, tagged, and studied.

These guys are peaceful and DO NOT want to hurt the cats; but the Clans don't know that. To them, humans are a monolith and they're now terrified of them.

From here, the story returns to normal. A coordinated effort from the Clan cats frees the cats they've captured. Graystripe is the only one the scientists are able to hold onto, by slamming the door of the van just before he can leap out. Millie is later released with him, wearing a radio collar accurate to the tracking tech of the time.

And that brings us to the way humans interact with Clan cats now! The team tries to keep their distance to not stress them out any more, using trail cams and staying several hundred feet away while observing them.

[thana-topsy]

If you're up for sharing more writing tips, how can I tell if what I've written is actually any good? With writing I get stuck in a cycle of feeling like I'm the next Shakespeare while writing but then I'll look over my work a few days later and absolutely hate everything and think it's the most cringe shit ever, then I'll leave it a bit longer and think eh it's not as bad as I thought but still not great and so on. I feel like being forced to write for a grade during school and having everything be marked and assessed and assigned a particular value has robbed me of the ability to critically analyse my own work in a way that's objective and accurate but also fair and realistic. I can analyse other peoples' stuff till the cows come home but I lose all rational thought when it comes to my own stuff

Adding onto that, how do I get to the point where I can stop looking back at my old work and hating everything and wanting to delete it all? Realistically I know finding fault with my old stuff is good bc it means I've grown and improved from where I once was etc but at the same time I wanna enjoy stuff I've made in the past without cringing every time I read it

Hey there Nony, I wanted to let this one percolate a little bit before answering because I've been where you are. And it's a rough time for sure. But aside from my own experiences, I also wanted to get the opinions of some of my writerly friends in the fandom, too, since everyone is a little font of wisdom in their own right.

So I'm going to share their advice alongside my own, because this is kind of a complicated string of questions you're asking. Long post ahead!

@paraparadigm says to Keep Writing: "Write more. Write so much (and so many different things) that eventually the sheer volume bulldozes over self-devouring ego, comparison twitches, or feeling lost, because you don't yet know your own baseline. Coupled with "read more, read everything, read things you enjoy and things you don't, read for the craft as much as the entertainment." And: "I'd add that when revisiting old writing, it's helpful for me to differentiate between "ew the writing is not as technically solid as it is now" and "ah that's interesting, I guess that's where I was at then, emotionally and psychologically". Old writing is also a sort of archaeological record of your younger self, and that can, in fact, be a bit itchy to revisit, so learning to cherish that without passing judgement can be really helpful. I try to treat it like those little marks one puts on the door jamb to track a kid's height."

@mareenavee says "Part of it is writing more, as Para said and I will always second that. Another part is, honestly, the hardest part. It's to try very hard to get out of the habit of negative self-talk.... There's so much work involved with this but normalizing being proud of your work and having some grace with yourself is part of that answer."

@archangelsunited says "Early on, instead of going “this has to be a masterpiece” I would tell myself my only job was to tell a story. I couldn’t tell a story if I was deleting it. Also, talking about your work helps. The less ashamed I was of my writing, the more people wanted to read it. There is a need to hide your work, and that can lead to a downward spiral all its own. And, 90% of the time, you have to suck at something to learn to be good at something. The work you already wrote shouldn’t be the sum of all your skill, it should be one of those measuring sticks for the moment. Despite previous thought, you won’t be stuck at the same level forever."

@polypolymorph says "In addition to accumulating experience via reading and writing, you also have to be willing to reinvent the wheel. Unfortunately the Process™️ is unique to everyone, and even when you are deliberately mimicking a voice as, say, a ghost writer, you can't expect that 2+2=4 for you. Your process might look more like a Lotka-Volterra equation for the same type of work and that's okay. Trial and error is the best way to figure out what advice actually works for you--and if it doesn't, it doesn't mean you're wrong. Don't get stuck on pop writing advice like a sad roomba does on an upturned rug. Learn when to throw it out."

So there's some advice from some other excellent writers! I hope you've been able to find some value in their advice, because it certainly kicked me in the pants a few times.

As for me, I think, having been where you are, my biggest piece of advice is: Find joy in the craft. Get curious instead of critical. An artist shouldn't down themselves over a rough sketch when they're working out a drawing, so why would a writer do such a thing? Everything you write is practice. Everything you make has value because it builds up to the next thing you make.

At the end of the day, you are the only one who is capable of telling the stories that are in your head. This fact alone gives whatever you put onto paper value, regardless of quality. You are creating magic, in the most literal sense! Creating something out of nothing, conjuring images into someone else's mind from hundreds of thousands of miles away, transcending space and time. It's amazing!

Lastly, my final piece of advice is to just write for fun. Write things nobody else will ever see just because you wanted to get words onto paper. You have to unlearn what was drilled into you in school. You are more than a content creation machine. You are an artist, a wordsmith. And just know that there will never be a day when you look at your own work and say "That's it, I have achieved perfection."

Writing is a life-long journey. Just enjoy the ride!

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Merry & Bright"

Part 3 - Family Fun Night

Merry & Bright Masterlist

Rated: Teen

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: a/b/o, omega Bucky, alpha Steve, kid fic, Karens

Summary: Bucky and Steve go to their daughters' school play.

(If your name is Karen, I'm sorry and sending warm hugs)

Bucky’s been able to ignore the encroaching Holiday season for longer than usual this year. 

Between the warm-ish fall weather and his continuing therapy appointments, the ceaseless calls from his publisher and that guy from Warner Brothers, and the move and the overwhelming demands of a newborn, it’s just hard to believe that it could already be Thanksgiving next week.

Steve’s next text coming through just about drives a bulldozer through that delusion:

Steve: Hey, I’m at the store right now. You want me to pick anything up for this ‘Friendsgiving’-extravaganza? I know Jarvis said he’s got it handled, but I feel like we should have backups for the girls? Just in case Tony’s picked out some sort of weird, avant garde menu? Becs really has her heart set on pumpkin pie. And Sarah, well …

Bucky: You could ask Pepper. I think we’re safe as long as there’s mac ‘n’ cheese and rolls. Anyway we’ve got over a week to sort it out.

Steve: … Babe, today’s Tuesday. We’ve got two days. 

Bucky immediately checks his phone calendar, and sure enough, Thanksgiving is this week, not next. Fuck. 

“Ohshit,” he breathes, eyes bugging out of his head as he realizes that this means tonight is the school play, not next Tuesday. “Fuck. Shit!” In his hands, his phone chimes.

Steve: So, pie?

Bucky texts back a harried ‘yes’, thinking that he’s got to get his butt back to the tower immediately. He very suddenly has only about nine hours before his children need to be fitted with their (as of yet not even near-to-finished) homemade costumes. Becca’s paper mache drumstick still needs spray painted, and Sarah’s supposed to be a scoop of mashed potatoes that Bucky still needs to find something to act as the pat of butter on top.

“Jarvis, help.” Bucky says as he hoofs it back in the direction of the tower. 

 Jarvis’ voice emanates from his phone: “Mr. Rogers. How can I be of assistance?”

Bucky rattles off the craft supplies they’re going to need. “And if you know anyone on Stark’s payroll who’s good with a needle and thread, that wouldn’t hurt either.”

It seems like only yesterday they were dressed up as Buzz and Woody, letting Bo Peep and a very bossy Jessie drag them around from house to house. They’d trick-or-treated in the Cobble Hill neighborhood where they technically don’t live yet but will soon, once the house is finished being refurbished. Bucky had carried Gabe strapped to his front as one of the Little Green Men alien squeaker toy thingies, and Steve had pulled a wagon along for when one or both of the girls inevitably became too tuckered out to—

Anyhow, point is: it feels like they were trick‘or’treating all of two seconds ago.

And now Thanksgiving is in two days? What the everloving fuck?

Bucky spends a very brief amount of time that afternoon being irrationally mad at his husband, as if it’s Steve’s fault that his pregnancy brain has apparently extended into the postpartum period and allowed him to lose track of time. He grumps privately that Steve should’ve somehow magically known that he was mentally operating in the wrong week, and should have thus alerted him that the holiday was imminent! Stupid Steve. What the hell is the alpha good for, anyway?

Later that evening of course, he realizes how ridiculous that is. He comes to terms with the fact that he’s actually upset with himself—partly because of the mad scramble he’s left with to get ready for Coulton-Chestor Preparatory Academy’s family fun night, but even moreso because of the 5k he now has to face up to in less than forty-eight hours. (What real, qualitative difference one more week of jogging in the park was really going to make, Bucky can’t say, but he’d been counting on it to help him work his confidence up about the whole ordeal.)

It’s not like he wouldn’t back out of it if he could, but he absolutely cannot back out. This is the first ever Brooklyn Bridge American Heroes Turkey Trot, co-sponsored by Stark Industries and Barnes Prosthetics (yes, Bucky is the genius who thought it’d be fine and dandy to plan a 5k less than half a year after giving birth). Together, he and Tony have started a foundation for veterans and civilian victims of the regime years, to help provide them access to the high quality, bio-integrative prosthetics that Bucky’s company makes.

Since it’s not exactly cheap to weld a robot arm onto somebody, Bucky and Tony have partnered with Wounded Warrior Project for this charity run; done to raise funds for vets who don’t happen to have a spare ninety grand lying around to fund their surgeries. The limbs themselves are, of course, all provided free of charge by Barnes Prosthetics, and the overall costs are at least somewhat ameliorated by various amenities provided by Stark.

As the visible face of the charity, Bucky’s got no choice: he needs to show up, show off, and show support. He’s expected to be there to make nice with all the other amputees who’ll be running, and to show off how happy and perfect his life is now that he’s got the Asset IV prototype cybernetic implant attached to his body. It is a bitchin’ arm, and Bucky is excited to get to hand one of those gigantic cardboard checks over to the Wounded Warrior guys, but he really, really wishes he’d thought to postpone the Foundation’s first run until next Thanksgiving. 

At least he’ll have Steve there with him, he thinks. His Alpha has promised not to outpace him to any embarrassing degree, Darcy is fine with keeping Gabe until they get back, and Tony has even arranged to have the girls set up for the Macy’s parade with a disgustingly VIP viewing situation on Central Park West. But aside from those few hours on Thanksgiving morning, Bucky’s daughters will remain under his purview for the holidays this year. 

And the hubbub begins with Family Fun Night that evening. 

Bucky alone has to deal with Sarah’s anxiety problems leading up to the curtain call for this stupid fucking school play. “Hold still, Honey,” he begs, speaking past the safety pin he’s got held between his lips as he kneels there and uses both of his hands to try and do a last minute costume fix. “Sarah I said hold still.”

“Fix it daddy, fix it!” 

He’s crouched next to his youngest daughter in the school’s hallway, trying to better secure the pat of “butter” (a folded yellow tea towel) to the top of her not-so-great mashed potato costume. Steve is off somewhere with the drumstick, helping her to not be scared about walking out on stage. “Baby, please. I can’t fix it if you keep moving around,” Bucky growls, but his frustrated tone only makes Sarah get more hysterical about her role in the play being messed up by a floppy tea towel. She starts to cry about how she doesn’t want to do this anymore. 

“Sarah Winnifred, I swear to God, if you don’t hold still, you’re gonna have a new hole poked in your head!”

He and Steve sit proudly in the fourth row back and watch the play that their children’s overpriced prep school is putting on before it lets out for Thanksgiving break.

At the end of the final song, when all of the students are lined up on the stage like a demented paper-mache buffet of human-sized food items, bowing hand in hand, Steve and Bucky rise with all the other parents for a standing ovation, humongous smiles plastered on their faces. Steve tries to do a finger whistle with middling success, then he leans over to Bucky’s ear and cheerfully whispers, “That was so dumb!”

Bucky laughs, still clapping and beaming with absolute pride for his daughters. “Yeah it was friggin’ awful!” 

The curtain falls, and he and Steve exit the auditorium to go backstage and congratulate the girls. A very excited drumstick and mashed potatoes run up and start talking over each other to tell their fathers all about the play that they just performed. “Papa! Daddy! Did you see me?! Did you see my song?!!” 

“What about meee?!”

“Sure did, Becs. You were really good!” 

“The best turkey drumstick ever.”

For being such excellent thespians and to celebrate their acting debut, they present the girls with two foil-wrapped tulips that they bought out in the lobby. Becca especially, seems very proud of her flower, twirling in her drumstick costume and holding it to her nose again and again. Bucky’s smile wavers with emotion as he gets that warm, shot-of-whiskey feeling once again, and he remembers that Life is Good. He catches Steve’s eye from over top of the mashed potatoes, and they share one of those silent “I Love You” moments. Steve shoots him a wink.

It being family fun night, Darcy appears as planned and ushers the girls away to go change back into regular clothes before they head over to the kids’ party in the gymnasium. Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky go to the reception that’s been put together for the parents. Bucky isn’t super keen on attending, but he promised the girls that they could play games with the other kids for at least an hour, so he and Steve make an admirable attempt to mingle amongst the other parents.

Coulton-Chestor Preparatory Academy is an exclusive elementary school on the Upper East Side. Due to its sheer proximity to Stark Tower, and since bussing the girls all the way to Brooklyn for an entire year would’ve been too much of a hassle, Steve and Bucky chose to enroll them there. It’s only temporary, until the renovations on the Cobble Hill house are complete and they’re able to move back to Brooklyn. Bucky is looking forward to being able to walk his children the two picturesque blocks between their house and the neighborhood school each day.

But until then, it’s the more snobbish parents and overzealous PTA moms of Coulton-Chestor that he has to navigate at functions such as tonight’s. Bucky’s been taking some time off work ever since things got very pregnant-and-miserable in about month eight, but he still considers himself a working father, and as such there is an awkward disconnect between him and the more … involved stay-at-home parents who surround him at the reception.

At least there are hors d’oeuvres and cocktails, which give him something to do with his hands. Steve starts chatting with a few of the parents who are running the silent auction, and Bucky avoids getting drawn into bidding on overpriced theater tickets by heading over to the refreshments table. He’s just finished loading up on a bunch of mini quiches and cocktail weenies, when the one person he’d hoped to fully avoid at this function makes her attack. Bucky turns around with his little plate of foot and startles as he’s suddenly faced with a familiar, blonde-haired woman. 

“James!” She’s got a tea-length dress, an overly-whitened smile, and a ponytail that’s been curled to within an inch of its life. It’s Karen.

(No, her name is literally Karen.)

And in Bucky’s limited experience with her, she has an uncanny ability to make every social interaction the exact opposite of what Bucky would like it to be. It’s just a gift some people have.

She swoops in with two other omega parents by her sides, introducing them as “Jill” and “Nate.” Bucky plasters on a smile to match hers while she air kisses his cheeks in that way that rich people who think they’re cultured always do.

“You made it,” she coos, acting pleased to see him. In all fairness, she might be. Bucky’s never point blank told the woman that he finds her insufferable, and she always seems to make a beeline for the more well-to-do parents. Ever since she found out that Bucky and Steve not only rub shoulders with Tony Stark, but are actually living with him, she’s been eager to make Bucky one of her besties. “It’s been too long. How are you, darling?”

“Oh, you know,” Bucky says, gesturing with his plate of cocktail weenies. “Hanging in there.”

“And how is that gorgeous new baby of yours doing?” she asks, nudging Jill to announce, “James is married to Commander Rogers. They have three children.”

Jill and Nate make a polite fuss over that, while Bucky tries to act gracious and think of a way to correct Karen that “Commander” isn’t Steve’s title, and if he ever hears her referring to him as such, he’ll be offended. “How is your family doing?” Bucky asks, more to get the topic off himself rather than due to any real interest. 

Like most of the Coulton-Chestor moms, Karen is married to a well-to-do Alpha, has precisely one child, and spends her time trying to climb as high in Manhattan “Mommy” society as possible. Having a living child at all is automatically a foot up in terms of social standing, Bucky’s learned, and the moms of Park Avenue lord their accomplishments higher than most. Most times Bucky’s met her, Karen’s been wearing diamond solitaires with designer workout clothes and brandishing her own fertility like a damn merit badge. 

Karen brags about her son for a few minutes, and when it seems like everyone in their small group is necessitated to take a turn with regards to their own offspring, Bucky throws some random fact out about how the girls have been doing. Jill and Nate start gushing over Bucky’s grand accomplishment of having three kids, which is practically unheard of. 

“You must be so proud. How lucky to have three healthy children!”

“What were yours in the play?” Jill asks, and she seems friendly enough so Bucky makes an effort to tell her about how he’s responsible for the turkey leg and the mashed potatoes. She giggles and nods and says her son was one of the pumpkins.

“Oh, ha, yeah. They had quite the little dance routine, didn’t they?” 

Bucky’s smile turns annoyed when Karen feels the need to point out, “Yes! And your little Rebecca kept up alright, didn’t she? She seemed able to follow along with the other kids quite well!”

“Yes,” Bucky says peevishly. “She’s very talented.” 

“Isn’t it wonderful here? I just love how inclusive Coulton-Chestor is,” Karen simpers. She turns to the other moms and starts telling them about how Becca is in her son’s “regular” class, and how she’s always so sweet, and so helpful to the other students. She talks about Becca like she’s a little mascot, or a class pet, and it rankles Bucky’s nerve to no end.

Since the fertility crisis began, there’s been more stigma placed on children with any sorts of disabilities, and Bucky’s had to deal with a lot of thinly-veiled prejudice due to his daughter’s special needs ever since he started advocating to get her into the same high-quality school programs as Sarah. The public school system still hasn’t recovered, and with limited slots available in all childcare-related fields these days, people are more ruthlessly competitive for their children than ever before. 

“Yes, we like it here,” Bucky agrees. “Though we’ll be switching to a different school next year, when we move to the new house over in Brooklyn.”

“You’re not leaving The Tower?” Karen gasps, as if that’s the most horrible, ludicrous decision. Given that she makes it sound like Bucky and his family are choosing to move out of friggin’ Buckingham Palace, Nate and Jill predictably get curious and ask:

“The ‘Tower’?”

“Stark Tower,” Karen chirps, excited to tell the other two omegas, “James and his husband live there.”

 Nate’s eyebrows go up. “They live there. In the tower?”

“Oh yes! Didn’t you know? Why, they’re friends with the Starks.”

“Really? Oh, I’ve heard such good things about that Pepper Potts,” Jill gushes. “Seems like a lovely woman. How do you know her?”

Bucky smiles, pained. “Actually I knew Tony first. We work together.”

“You work?” Nate sneers. Bucky ignores him. 

“Yeah, I met Tony back during the, ah … well, during the regime years.”

“Gilead? Oh. Huh.”

(“Wonder what the Starks were doing, back then? Were they married then?”

“You never do hear what celebrities got up to during all that, do you?”

“No, you never do.”)

Bucky hums, not intending to get into a conversation about it, but Karen forces his hand by volunteering, “Wasn’t that all in your book though, James?” 

“Um,”

Karen enthusiastically tells the others, “He was one of those resistance fighters, can you believe it? That’s how he lost his arm.” (Everybody’s eyes not-so-surreptitiously fly to where Bucky’s left hand is sticking out of his sweater, holding onto the plate of hors d'oeuvres.) “And he was a vessel. His husband was one of the commanders down in Washington. That’s where they met!”

“Really?”

“Steve wasn’t a real commander …” Bucky hedges.

“Oh he wrote a whole book about it! You really must read it.” Karen rattles off the title and both Nate and Jill make sounds of recognition. 

“Ooh. You know, I’ve heard of that book.”

“Great,” Bucky mutters. He has to smile along politely and answer them as they start asking him fascinated questions, with Karen supplying details every time he tries to demure and change the topic to something less sensational. 

“He’s just being modest!” she simpers, laying her hand on Bucky’s arm in an overly familiar way. “James, tell them about how you were on the View.”

Bucky reluctantly does, and Jill and Nate nod along, enthused to hear about how he’s been on television and met the hosts of the show. “It really wasn’t all that exciting,” Bucky insists. “I wasn’t the main guest. They had, you know, real celebrities that went after me. Reese Witherspoon and stuff.”

“You met Reese Witherspoon?”

“No, no. I didn’t. I was only there for like, two minutes. It wasn’t even important.”

“Oh I don’t know,” Karen prods smugly. “A little birdy told me that Netflix was trying to buy up the film rights to your book.”

Bucky doesn’t even care, he openly shoots her a withering glare this time. “I can assure you that’s not true.” (It’s HBO, and it isn’t Bucky’s fault if she doesn’t have her details right.) 

Karen continues to gab to the other two parents about it anyway, insisting that some omega heartthrob actor whom Bucky has never heard of would be the ideal casting choice to portray him in the film version of his book. “And Chris Hemsworth. Oh! Wouldn’t he just be perfect to play your Steve?”

“Nobody’s making a movie out of it!” Bucky snaps, fed up with her incessant gossiping. “It’s not happening.” He looks around awkwardly at the end of his outburst, aware of Nate and Jill’s surprised expressions. “Um, I just mean: the studios were shopping around,” he mutters. “But I said no.” 

Of course this is very disappointing to Karen, and she tries to tell Bucky what a mistake that is, talking about how interested everybody would be in the subject matter. “I just saw an episode of the Dr. Phil show where they were talking about it,” she says. “They had wives and some of those vessels on. Even a commander.”

Bucky hums dispassionately. “Sounds like trash tv to me.” He’ll be damned if he lets Karen know he was asked onto that program as well. “Just people trying to make a spectacle out of it.”

Karen titters awkwardly and agrees, but Bucky can tell that she’s annoyed at him for shutting her gossip down. “Well, it’s all very controversial, of course,” she excuses. “And a commitment like that would just be so much more on your plate.”

Bucky nods, glad that she’s dropping it. “Yeah. Exactly.”

“After all, you’re already a working mother,” she says, saying ‘working’ all hurriedly and quietly, as if it’s something not to be mentioned. “I’m sure you just want to focus on your family, now. With the new baby and all.” 

“Congratulations,” Jill gushes. “Did you have a boy or a girl?”

“A boy. Gabe. He just turned four months old last week.”

“Oh, how wonderful.”

“Another omega for your family?”

“No, Karen,” Bucky says, annoyance audible in his voice. “We haven’t had him tested. We’re just going to wait and find out the old fashioned way.”

“Oh. I see.”

They all seem taken aback, because it’s very rare for a newborn not to be tested for designation these days. Much to Bucky’s chagrin, gender roles only seem to be becoming more emphasized than ever. Jill chuckles awkwardly and tries to lighten the mood. “Well, that’s so progressive of you. Dan had our little Archie in an alpha playgroup by the time he could crawl, I swear.”

They all titter over that, and Bucky tries to scan the room for any sight of Steve without being too obvious in what he’s doing. He spots him over by the punch bowl. “Um, I’m sorry,” he excuses. “I think I see my husband calling me.” He starts to make his escape, but Karen grabs him just as he’s turning.

“Oh, James, wait! We wanted to ask if you’d help us plan the Winter Gala.”

“Oh, I uh.”

“We’re going to have the children do a nativity scene. And I was thinking a candlelight service. Wouldn’t that just be picturesque?”

Bucky makes a face. “Sorry, Karen. My family isn’t very religious.”

“Oh, no but it’ll be interdenominational!” she insists with a big grin. “You celebrate Christmas, of course!”

“No.”

“... No?” 

“Not really,” Bucky grunts. “I mean, we do a tree and a menorah and all that, but ..."

“Menorah?” she says, and the way she squinches her eyes sets Bucky’s nerves on edge. “You’re not Jewish?”

Bucky pulls his arm back to himself. “Culturally, yes. Steve’s family is Catholic, mine’s Jewish. But we’ve decided that organized religion isn’t what’s right for our family.”

“Oh! But you can still come to the church service!” Karen says brightly. “It’ll be—”

“We’re not religious,” Bucky blurts out, sick of stepping around the issue and having lost his patience. He’s tired of politely fielding other people’s invitations for him and his husband and children to come and check out ‘this congregation’ or that, and figures he’ll just squash any chance there might be of him actually getting roped into planning holiday festivities with the Coulton-Chestor evangelical set. “We’re pretty much raising the girls Atheist,” he tells Karen, watching as her smile flickers like a bulb hanging on by its very last filament. He feels a degree of nasty satisfaction at having perturbed her. 

Disturbingly, the Christian Right has continued to grow in popularity—culturally, if not politically—these past few years, and Bucky has very little tolerance for it (he tried to show tolerance before the regime, and look how that ended up). He knows his family is in the minority, and it’s very apparent how this information makes the friendly light in even Nate and Jill’s eyes dim somewhat.

“I’m sure you’ll plan something great, though,” he excuses brightly, turning around to go and find Steve and see if it isn’t too early to make their escape. “It was nice catching up!”

Masterlist

If you liked what you read and feel so inclined, please consider dropping a tip in the Kofi🍵 cup!

This has been a fill for:

@steverogersbingo

Card: SB3088 || stark-contrast

Square D3: Slice of Life

@marvel-smash-bingo

Card: sarah-writes-stucky

Square I5: Bucky Barnes x Steve Rogers

@stuckyversebingo

Card: sarahyellow / sarah-writes-stucky

Square C4: alpha/omega relationship

[cliksteelchina]

Steel CLIK Limited - Undercarriage Parts Supplier China

Steel CLIK Limited is one of the leading Undercarriage Parts Supplier company in China. Undercarriage parts are essential components of heavy machinery, such as excavators and bulldozers. They include track chains, rollers, idlers, and sprockets, ensuring smooth movement and stability, and enhancing the performance and longevity of the equipment. For more information call us @ +862152839060

[theageofsims]

I've spent what feels like a month trying to work through my legacy save glitches by deleting "other Sim households", deleting unused lots, turning off parts of the story progression settings, and using MCCC to clean up the worlds without removing everything.

Somewhere along the lines I've already broken the family trees populated in game, but it's fine because I've started to keep track off the game and on paper.

Lots won't load in Sulani even after I evict the households or I bulldoze the lot and replace the house. Lots won't load when the Sims want to travel to places in or outside of worlds.

There was a birth that was supposed to be triplets and the bassinet disappeared after I named all three babies -- and only one baby could be found so that was a major glitch and never happened to me at all in 10 years of Sims 4.

My save keeps jumping between 56mb to 33mb and then back up again. I also can't save I have to use "save as" otherwise I get an Error 0 notification. I also get another notification error that begins with 102 and has several numbers after it when I try to load lots/households. It then pushes me to the maps view.

So -- I really think it's time I move into a new save. After 3.5 years in this legacy save, there's just far too many glitches happening.

I've already saved houses owned by the Powhatans and I just need to go back in and save a few more households that are related to them either friendship wise or another or cousins/half cousins and then just start putting them all into a new save.

I use a mod that allows for family relationships, like it extends it far beyond what the game can do and I use it a lot for my Age of Sims save, so will just use that here to help get everyone connected who is a family member and so forth.

I don't think I'll delete the old file, but I'll retire it because it just is unplayable in many ways at this point.

[inkysandwich]

Aw, guys. This chapter made me super happy. Chapters with all four of them together are my favorites, but actually it's always the ones with Qiu, too.

I love this man.

He's more of an agent of chaos in this story than She Li is (was 🫤) Not because Q is unpredictable or poses an immediate threat, but because him being near generally indicates that someone else has plans. I mean... It's not totally unbelievable that He Cheng forgot to feed Q and he really is just swinging by the market on the way home to his now emptier, dogless home.

But is he?

I doubt it.

Though I do not doubt that he's using his current goose-wrangling babysitting gig to get in on that certified home cooked MGS action. Again.

Qiu is cheeky and bold and unyeildingly bulldozes his way into where he needs to be. Which is why he's the perfect bridge for HC to have between himself and the idiots. Do you think HC would have gotten the same reaction, stumbling into them and bribing himself a seat at the dinner table to keep an eye on them?

Q is crass--even his boss--and that makes him approachable. He's just a dude with a job he thought would be better (like MGS) that he got because he has a level of loyalty to a powerful man that he can't fully explain or probably even justify (like HT) and is now responsible for the safety of a flighty idiot that can't seem to stop getting kidnapped (like ZZX). But he's strong and capable and protects the people he needs to protect (like JY wants to be, HT too). Q can reach them in ways that HC's position would never allow.

He's there when they need more hands in a fight, when the kids are being scammed, when they can't build a fire, when they can't get to school on time, when JY needs to be un-kidnapped, when HT gets to say goodbye to his dog. He gets them ice cream (and king crab!) and guitars and firewood. He gives them rides on his motorcycle and lets them roughhouse but punishes them when they take it too far. He teaches them how to be stronger and when to show restraint and oh my god Qiu is the only suitable father figure in this whole damn story.

It's just a bonus that I'm never going to be sad looking at any part of him.

But his presence is a harbinger.

Of impending mafia send-offs? Of looming threats of rivals? Of teenaged hijinks or mindless street thugs? Of malicious neighbors with cat lasers toys?

We won't know until they strike. (Although, I have my assumptions)

I was going to talk more about the chapter, but this kinda became a Q appreciation post. I couldn't help it. And neither could I help the onslaught of senseless head cannon from taking over.

Because I really really want to see Mom's reaction to Q. He's a gruff muscles-definitely-for-more-than-show dude, but she lives with a prickly "delinquent" that towers over most people, so she knows how to read between the lines.

But--and I WILL die on this hill--she knows how to read between the lines.

Do I think we'll ever get the Momma confrontation I've asked for so badly for years now? Probably not outside of my drafts. But I don't care. She knows, and I know she knows, and you know I know she knows👃

Because in the same breath that I wish for her to react to the mafia presence, I also just... I want this single dad (yes, single. You're going to make him do all the childrearing, send him off to clean up the messes, AND STILL NOT FEED HIM?!) to be treated kindly by the mother of all mothers. I want them to commiserate on keeping track of these animals. I want him to reassure her that her son isn't going to be held back any more. I want her to make him soup that tastes so good he asks for some to go and she gives it to him under the condition that he comes by any time he wants a home cooked meal.

And HT dies a little inside. And so does MGS the first time "A-Qiu" takes her up on her offer...

I'll stop now before I make any grievous mistakes, but I'm sure you can imagine that my draft list of questionable prompts is growing 😈

[saltygilmores]

THOUGHTS WHILE WATCHING GILMORE GIRLS: APPLICATION ANXIETY (SEASON 3, EPISODE 3, PART 4)

I didn't think I'd be going into four chapters+ for this filler/completely lacking in boy drama episode, but here we are.

Shady Taylor Business as per uzh. He’s committed so many white collar crimes that he’s in over his head trying to keep track of them all. Does ayone else just think of Taylor as the Mayor? He’s technically “town selectman", which is a real thing, and after many years I've finally looked up what a selectman does. I won't bore you with the details, but somehow Taylor got put into a position of authority that involves a heavy responsibility for other people's money. I know we have seen the actual mayor of The Hollow before, but only twice so far, I think. Taylor is treading into the shark infested waters of airing private grievances with Luke Danes publicly, again. Has Taylor learned nothing from the last time he tried this stunt at the emergency meeting he called about Jess and his sidewalk drawing? He really loves poking that hornet's nest. It's not going to be pretty.

Miss Patty waving at Rory and Lorelai. She is such a treasure. A horny, horny treasure. She must be protected at all costs.

Taylor calls his malt shop a "necessary service", which immediately calls me back to our comedian friend who predicted Taylor would classify his malt shop as a "necessary service" in order to stay open during the pandemic. How was that guy so spot on about everything?

That's real slimy, Taylor. Taylor Doose is slime. And not the fun kind of slime, either. According to Slimy Doose, If a 3/4ths majority of the town decide Taylor should have that building then he gets that building. It's just that simple! Check the towns bylaws! Which were probably written by Taylor! Why does Taylor want to run Luke out of town so badly? His diner is literally the only attraction in town that keeps the town economy churning (well, not Rory and Lorelai's money, but everyone else's). Taylor spends 7 years trying to find the money to fix a small wooden bridge. Like Tumblr, behind the scenes, The Hollow is being held together with paperclips and fairy dust. If tourists ever find out that Luke's special coffee is nothing more than ordinary Folgers, it's all over.

No, Salty is NOT going to research the nitty gritty details of eminent domain for you to determine if Luke is correct. You're on your own, people. I'm here to make the masturbation jokes.

Now things are real getting real loopy doopy as Taylor stands his ground that his proposed soda shop is even more necessary than a hospital. DId someone vote this guy in? According to Google, yes. A town selectman is an elected position. The people who voted for Taylor may even be voting in larger elections, which is a scary thought. Ya'll voted for this putz, you live with him.

KICK HIS ASS!

RORY YOU ARE NOT HELPING. Sit down! Oh, you already are. Well, keep sitting. And stop talking. The town decides they love their beloved coffee proprietor Luke so much that they refuse to side with him and don't give a flying cupcake if he gets screwed into next week. If this were my unrated Gilmore Girls spinoff, The Hollow, which explores the gritty realism of small tourist town life, the Malt shop goes under in a few years because the economies of these towns are very shaky. Someone is going to turn around and Eminent Domain Taylor's ass and bulldoze his businesses to build luxury townhomes.

If looks could kill, man. Someone PLEASE edit a cartoon bloody axe or hatchet into this screen shot for me. I'm going to use this face on the promo posters for my horror movie series, "Blood In The Hollow." Luke's Revenge.

Rory saying "Ice cream soda, yum" and a couple of elderly people nodding is enough to count as a majority vote. I know they worship Rory in the Hollow for some reason but how does she have that much power? Can't we get some kind of auditor in here to examine the electoral process in The Hollow? Then an accountant to audit Taylor's financial books.

Yay! We hate you Luke! Go get fucked! But keep the free coffee coming.

Even after what she just did, you know she’s going to shamelessly march right over to the diner where she won’t pay him for her food and coffee. I saw Lane unaccompained at the meeting, and started thinking since Mrs Kim apparently lets Lane go to town meetings unsupervised, they're a perfect opportunity for her to get out from the watchful eye of her mother and get up to some teenage rebellion/shenanigans. I still say she should have hooked up with Jess to give her mother a coronary.

Welcome, Shenanigans. We get an introductory story about Rygalski's musical interests, which Lane finds rather keen. Keen is like my new favorite word. It's old fashioned sounding so it just works with these old fashioned teenagers.

Get a hold of yourself woman!

Don't underestimate this geek in a dorky sweater. He's smooth.

Could she be any dorkier? Sheesh.

Don't tell me Lorelai doesn't looks jealous watching Rory kiss Dean. Dean actually listens patiently while Rory updates him about her life, and this behavior continues to feel highly suspicious. Is it because he was at home jerking off while everyone else was at the meeting and now he's not so cranky?

Don't worry Deano, you won't be lonely. There are other fish in the Hollow. Maybe you'll even manage to trap some poor innocent teenage girl and brainwash her into marrying you. I'm still not sure how he pulled that off.

I saw these oven mitts on Amazon yesterday and thought of Lindsey Lister. Whenever she's cooking one of Dean's meatloaves, she's quietly side eyeing the box of rat poison under the sink. Rory is mildly irritated because his question is "blunt and out of nowhere." and a discussion About Our Future is underway.

I'm going to keep a scoring system for this discussion: +1 point to Rory because Dean's question was really "out of nowhere" and dropped on suddenly her late at night. +1 point to Dean because his question wasn't totally unreasonable. Minus 1 point for Dean because Rory hasn't even been accepted to Harvard, no less any college, yet. + half point for Dean doing the bare minimum and believing in the idea that Rory will get into Harvard later. Minus 1 point for Dean because even if she did get into college she isn't going to start for another year, so he could have waited like, at least another 6 months before it would matter. Minus 1 point for Dean because there's no guarantee they will even be together a year from now (and they won't be).

Minus 1 point for Rory even entertaining the silly notion that she could have a "Weekends only" relationship with Dean when he is a controlling maniac who tracks her schedule and gets angry if she does not spend every minute of her free time with him. MInus 1 point for Rory engaging in more "I promise I will spend every spare minute of every day that I'm not studying with you" and "we can talk on the phone constantly during the week" negotiations. Enough with the negotiations!! Minus a kajillion points for Dean just because he's rotten hamburger meat. What is he going to do Monday-Friday after he graduates hgh school, without Rory to kick around like his personal hacky sack? Reversing the roles for fun: Dean: What are you going to do when I leave for college? Rory:

"Christianne Amanpour spends of a third of her life in foxholes in third world countries! She was on C-Span last week getting an award! And she has a family!" Girl?! Rory Gilmore is comparing her life to that of an award winning, world renowned field journalist, someone who travels the world and risks her life on a regular basis, to her life as a boring high school student dating another boring high school student, some illiterate 17 year old softball playing clown from Stars Hollow Connecticut whose own mother is still trying to abandon him at a gas station, hoping that a pack of wild dogs will find and adopt him as one of their own instead. If Christianne Amanpour can survive being blown up in a war torn country and go home to her husband and family at the end of the day, then surely Dean Forrester and Rory Gilmore can make it work. Rory, pleaase. Settle down. Minus -2 points for that sheer ridiculousness. I'm not sure Dean even knows who Christianne Amanpour is, anyway. This goes on WAY too long so I will summarize so I can get on with my life and finally finish out this episode. R: Dean you should to go to college in Boston D: I'm going to junior college R: Junior college in Boston?! D: No dorm rooms R: Rent an apartment! D: With what money? R:Why are you being like this? D: Realistic? R: Stop being so serious D: Forget it Jackson: What happens to Rory's room when she moves out, can i rent it out to put my tools in it? Lorelai: Idk (panic sweats at the thought of losing her codependent relationship with Rory if she moved out) Springsteen (Harvard Dinner Guy) on answering machine: I looked at Rory's records and even though I'm just some rich guy who graduated decades ago and I don't actually attend Harvard anymore or work at Harvard and I only met her once over an awkward dinner where she barely said anything, she's definitely a shoo in for Harvard, she may as well just pack her bags and move in right now. like she should find a dorm room that's already occupied and kick out whoever's living there already and take over their room. I'm going to tell everyone I know that Rory is definitely for sure going to Harvard there has never been a more Harvardy student that has ever ever Harvarded before. The end. Things Googled While Watching GIlmore Girls: Selectman, is a selectman elected, codependent relationship Things Not Googled: Eminent domain

[re-locative]

Tangling the web: an upcoming post series (?)

Hey all! Amari here. I'll be starting a post series about web design traits and trends that have become inescapable across the internet, and whether we can internet without them—as users, developers, and designers.

Petri Dish - a weird web experience thing I made.

So, I'm a web developer who's had brief stints in graphic design, and my current PhD research orbits around the theme of virtual spaces and places. I've made websites, I've taught people how to make websites, and I'm something of an avid user of websites myself.

And…well…I'm bored! I'm bored of SEO-driven design. I'm bored of single-flow webpages that start with a giant hero image and end in a shiny call to action button—all designed to channel you as quickly as possible to the part where you subscribe or enter your card details.

(Even this post is formatted like one of them! It wasn't even intentional! It's become ingrained in the way I structure and present my ideas, and that's just a little disturbing.)

These templates are sweeping the landscape like invasive trees. And at the heart of this scourge is the vaunted axiom of "Predictability," which gets peddled in every UI/UX class that is "future-oriented" enough to use that acronym. Predictability lets users learn a new site quickly so they spend money sooner, fosters comfort and familiarity with the idea of spending money, and allows for the development of usage patterns where money is spent.

I get the merits of that axiom; I get that it has a time and place. But when game and webcomic sites look and feel and interact like that, I think we have to ask: Can we imagine something different? Can we slow the takeover of the smooth corpo aesthetic? Can we avert a future where the effective geography of the web, with all its varied terrain and endemic textures, is bulldozed into featureless oblivion?

I think it would be presumptuous to suggest that they're some mythic species of the past that slowly died out, too. A lot of the web experiences we loved well as kids are still right there, or have successors that are! They've just gotten so crowded out, by the combination of corporate sites and corporate-driven search algorithms, that one wonders if they will someday become impossible to stumble upon.

Anyway, the intended post series is born out of these provocations. I'd like to tackle elements of the current schema of "good web design" and contemplate a web without them (hopefully with examples if I can find them):

Predictable layouts, the "F" scan pattern, and calls to action

Discoverability / SEO

Well-formed HTML and well-maintained linkage

Responsive web design

Identity and device tracking

Socially engineering higher engagement through design

Statefulness and timelines

Visually communicating functionality

And I know, all of these things sound like good traits for a site to have. And yes, in most contexts, they are! But I think imagining the web without them is a highly worthwhile exercise anyway.

Anyway, stay tuned if that interests you—I will be posting them to this blog and tagging them with #tangling the web. Alas, my Call to Action reflex could not be denied, and I had to give you an easily actionable instruction at the end of the post.

[cy-cyborg]

Sometimes think I had a normal childhood for someone growing up in the Aussie country (you know, when you ignore the disability and trans stuff lol) Then I talk to my sister and remember the absolutely ridiculous things that happened back home...

My school's cross country course (a sporting event where you walk/run several kilometres on dirt tracks) passed through a park that had a helicopter landing pad. During cross country one year, there was a helicopter parked there. Someone in my sister's year group stole it... or tried to. I don't think he was successful, but that depends on who you're talking to lol.

A guy stole a bulldozer from a roadwork site and used it to steal a coin machine at the car wash by just scooping the machine up in the little tray thing. The theft was caught on camera, as was his escape back into the closest thing we had to a busy suburb and yet, the coin machine, nor the bulldozer were ever seen again.

There was a ghost who lived at the showground, or so the story goes. Everyone greets her when we use the hall for community events. This makes the church across the road very angry. So much so a pastor used to go to the primary school to tell the kids not to talk to the ghost. Now I'm pretty sure everyone in my generation at least does it out of spite. From what I know about the ghost, I think she'd approve lol.

During my time in high school, 3 bodies were found on the beach. One was found by our school's beach walking class (also we had a beach walking class, it was an elective sport). Things continued as normal.

My high school had an elective marine biology class and part of the course was to get your scuba licence. I learned after graduation this is not normal, most schools don't have this class as an option. Did some digging and learned that it's whole reason for it being included was to make it easier to teach kids to scuba dive because people keep throwing things in the lakes around town/the ocean and they literally can not hire divers fast enough to clean it up. The class got cancelled after my year group because a girl in my class tried to fight a shark (this shark would approach divers but was known by the instructor to be really placid, so they just let her be, but this apparently spooked the school. Fair).

Our geography teacher was a conspiracy theorist and dooms day prepper that believed the whole 2012 thing. His approach to giving us tests was "we're all going to be dead in a few years and it's ridiculous they're even making you come to school so here's the answers so you don't have to waste time studying" - we had to re-take our year 10 final exam because of him...