#Coke Ovens

[rabbitcruiser]

The Colorado National Monument was established on May 24, 1911.

[smellofwater]

A Memory

The Black Path Middlesbrough. February 2015

[akayna]

[vandaliatraveler]

Thomas and Douglas share a common legacy as historic coal mining and lumber towns, both of which reached their zeniths in the first half of the 20th century. The artifacts of area's industrial past, some of which are now being reclaimed by nature, are still evident along Douglas Road, which forks out of Thomas and follows the North Fork of the Blackwater River to Douglas. These include the beehive coke ovens that once lit up the night nonstop to produce coke for local blast furnaces. In addition to the abandoned structures, a number of coal company buildings have been preserved and added to the National Register of Historic Places, including the Davis Coal and Coke Company Administrative Building and the Buxton & Landstreet Company Store, which is now home to the Buxton & Landstreet Gallery and Studios. The area's bittersweet past includes a legacy of human exploitation and racial injustice. Like its brethren, the Davis Coal and Coke Company paid its miners in company scrip that was only redeemable at the company store, which charged inflated prices for goods and ensured it could reclaim their wages at a premium. The area was also home to the Coketown Colored School, a segregated school at the center of an important civil rights victory in 1892, when Carrie Williams, a teacher at the school, teamed with J. R. Clifford, the state’s first African-American lawyer, to defeat an effort by Tucker County to reduce the school’s term. The victory ensured equal pay and terms for African-American schools in West Virginia. The Coketown Colored School closed in 1954 when segregated schools were found unconstitutional.

[otrtbs]

i have a chicken in the oven 🧍‍♀️ y’all literally a whole ass chicken,,, who the fuck do i think i am with a rotisserie chicken in the oven????

[finniestoncrane]

Finnie, Your Permits....

(I genuinely couldn't help myself the moment I saw that autocorrect mistake.)

[violets4roses444]

i need him

[middleland]

Poison! by Nick Baronzzi

[umilily]

i'm back. (and i didn't commit murder, but it was close.)

[sagxshi]

bro my fucking head is killing me

[faithandarisadventures]

Coke Ovens Park West Blocton, Alabama January 22, 2023

[rabbitcruiser]

Colorado National Monument (No. 12)

The oldest rock layers are at the bottom because they were laid down first. The landscape changed across the eons, adding more layers on top of older ones. The youngest rock layers are on top of the rest. Think of adding to a pile of laundry. You put some clothes down first, and as you add more clothes on top, the weight presses on what's below. The top of the pile is whatever clothing you added last. To grasp how the pile of laundry (or rock layers) changed over time, it makes sense to start at the bottom and see what got added above. We'll read this diagram - and scroll the rest of this page - from top to bottom because that's how we read pages. But, to understand the geologic story in order, we should consider reading from the bottom up. Starting at the top with most recent rock layers, the diagram shows that the Morrison layer formed in ancient lakes and forests. Continuing down in layers, you can see the Entrada was once a sandy beach. Below that, the Kayenta is revealed as braided streams. Then, the Wingate sandstone was once a vast sandy desert. Lower still is the Chinle layer, which was once a floodplain. At the very bottom, the Precambrian layer was once the core of a mountain range.

Source

[smellofwater]

A Memory

[themimicbird]

꒰ა˖⁺ I vow to fill my life with...⁺˖໒꒱

Satin sheets

Sunday Brunch in cute outfits

Warm cups of loose tea leaves

Passion projects

Vanilla & brown sugar scents

Gold jewelry with tiny crystals

Handwritten letters & journals

Fresh flowers displayed in vases

Classical novels

Poem filled pages I wrote but will never share

˖⁺--------⁺˖꒰ა໒꒱˖⁺--------⁺˖

Freshly brewed coffee

Songs that sound like memories I've never had

An owl singing outside my window

Nostalgia connected to what I can't remember

Cookies just out of the oven

Satin sleep masks that are always on the floor when I wake

Socks with Lace details

Writing by myself on rainy days

Decorative crystals when the sun hits them just right

Vanilla favored coke paired with ice in a clear glass

˖⁺--------⁺˖꒰ა໒꒱˖⁺--------⁺˖

Specks of sunlight dancing in-between the leaves of a tree

Bamboo brushes

Chapped lips covered by $1.00 coke scented chap stick

A yoga mat forgotten and still spread out on the floor

Vaseline on dry skin before bed

Nights with years' worth of old playlists whispering in my ears

Dresses and designer clothes flooding my search history

Humming to songs, I barely know the words of

Thrifting dates with myself

And a future lover by my side, however long that takes

[gravesidepickup]

I think we should consider and think about Peter Parker living in the same shitty apartment complex as Logan and Wade more tbh.

Think about the horrors poor Peter is going through with those two potentially living above him, or even next to him. They sound like they're going to come crashing through his apartment at any moment. He can't tell if they really fucking hate each other or if it's love.

Either way they always look like they're about to throw some SERIOUS hands at all moments.

Running into one of them in the hallway and very quickly trying to get back to his apartment he wants no part of whatever the hell these two are doing.

One of them trying to strike up a conversation and he hit them with the "ahah, oh no, I actually left.. my oven. On. I gotta go" because no way.

Bonus thoughts from my boyfriend :

Peter overhearing Wade and Al talking about the copious amounts of coke and debating if it's worth intervening or not. It's not. He's a busy man. Doing anything else.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 6

part 1 | part 5

October

It's Wednesday night, which means dinner at the Hendersons. Steve finally decided to show his face — and no, not because Dustin's doorstep song and dance had any effect on him; it was partly because he was sick of hearing muted metal music from across the street and mostly because he hadn't left the trailer in three days and he was starting to feel and smell like shit.

So, anyway. Dinner. Ma Henderson's pulled out all the stops: prepped a homemade lasagna, stocked the fridge with full-sugar sodas and bought the good brand of key lime pie; invited the Sinclair and Wheeler kids to make a little party of it. (Nancy was 'unfortunately too busy to attend,' thank fucking god.)

But then Ma got stuck late at work, so now it's all hands on deck. Mike and Erica are setting the table — Steve can hear Mike bitching at her because she told him the knives go the other way, dumbass; Lucas is at the fridge filling cups with ice and Pepsi and muttering to himself about how much better Coke is; Steve's got an eye on the oven, waiting for the cheese on the lasagna to bubble up juuust right; and Dustin is using "prepping the salad" as an excuse to corner Steve and annoy the ever-loving crap out of him.

“What do you mean it’s hard?” Dustin whines, dropping a handful of shredded carrots into the wooden bowl. “Just talk to him!”

Steve takes a deep breath. Mourns, briefly, for the night he could have had; the girls he could be doing hand stuff with in the back of the Beemer instead of putting up with this kid's shit. “I don’t wanna Just Talk to Him." He bends to peek through the oven door. "And, also: get off my ass about it, alright? I came to dinner, I'm heating up the lasagna. I'm, like, participating or whatever. What more do you want?”

“For you to talk to Eddie! Obviously!" Dustin's tossing the greens so aggressively that it kinda feels like he wishes he was pummeling Steve instead, and when he throws his hands up, little flecks of iceberg lettuce go raining to the floor.

Steve eyes the leafy green confetti. "You're cleaning that up."

"Come on, dude," Dustin begs. "It's been two weeks! What's the point of having friends who are next door neighbors if they refuse to get along?”

Behind them, Lucas supplies in a weirdly strangled tone: “This really doesn’t seem like the way to get him to talk to Eddie."

Thank you. Steve couldn't agree more. He turns to tell him as much and realizes the reason Lucas' voice sounded like that is because he's trying to make one trip to the dining room at any fucking cost. He's got an armful of drinking glasses and three cans of Pepsi tucked under his chin, and he's about to fumble the whole wobbly stack.

"Jesus Christ, man, cut that out!" Steve swoops in to grab the cans before they can join the lettuce shower Dustin just made. He doesn't care how much he loves Claudia, he will leave without helping if they splatter soda all over this floor. Mews the Second can lick it clean for all he cares, he's so for real. "Two at a time," he says sternly, taking the extra cups from Lucas’ hold and handing him back a reasonable amoint. He sends Lucas out of the room with a knee to the ass.

"Hey!" Lucas pouts.

"Hey yourself," he grins.

Lucas sticks out his tongue like a child (because he is one, Steve reminds himself), and when he shoulders the swinging door to the dining room he almost brains his little sister, who makes a graceful side-step and comes strutting through undeterred.

"Are you two nerds done playing good cop, annoying cop with Steve?"

"Ah-!" Dustin gawps. "I better not be the annoying cop!"

"Uh, yeah. Obviously, you are." She props a fist on her hip, a little tyrant in the making, and Steve’s ribs go tender with a fond, vaguely proud ache. He really loves her so much. "Now scram. I need to borrow Steve."

On second thought.

Surely at some point these kids, like, owe him money or some shit for the amount of weary sighs they've caused him to let out. Like, financial compensation for the years taken off his life? Something?

"Yes, Erica?" he asks, nostrils flared; eyes closed.

"You should talk to Eddie."

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ." Steve looks up to the ceiling, pleading for anyone to grant him strength, then he turns to pull the lasagna out of the oven and watches the bubbles sizzle and pop in the hot cheese until he no longer feels like blowing up at a little girl. "Okay. Okay. And I should listen to you because…?"

Screw financial compensation.

He deserves a presidential medal for how calm he's keeping his tone.

Erica's glaring fiercely at him when he glances her way, and why is every kid he knows such a brave, confrontational little shit? "Because," she explains, "He's being mean to my brother."

Oh, fuck no. "What do you mean?" he asks, voice dropping to an urgent hiss as he feels his hackles raise. Like hell is he letting some Billy 2.0 hang around his kids. "Is he, like- Is he saying shit about you guys?"

She spares him from trying to find a tactful way to ask what he's really asking. "No," she says shortly. "But he is being a bastard about him joining the basketball team—"

"Language—" Oh, what's the point.

"—and those two nerds out there? Are obsessed with him. Especially Mike. Like, ob-sessed.” She writes the letters out in the air in front of her to really drive home the point. “Mike likes whatever Eddie likes, so you need to convince Eddie to like Lucas before Lucas loses his friends over this stupid 'jocks versus freaks' crap." She lowers her voice and jabs the skywriting finger into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "And if you tell Lucas I said any of this? It is on. sight, Steve. I will crush you."

"Jesus Christ."

"So, we good?"

"Uh huh," Steve stammers. "Y-yep. Understood."

Wow. So dignified, Steve. Really loved how you let a ten year old intimidate you. He's saved from any further bullying by the sound of keys jangling in the lock.

"Dusty!" Claudia calls out through the door, "Dustybunny, can you come help? My hands are full!"

In the dining room Steve hears Dustin groan while Mike and Lucas start immediately tearing into him for the name, mocking 'Dustybunny; oh, Dustybun!' in stupid sing-song tones.

"So I'm just gonna..." Steve says awkwardly, inching toward the door. "Go get that."

"Mhmm." Erica gives him an unimpressed look. "You do that."

—

"Oh, Steve, sweetie, thank you!" Claudia says when he opens the door, cheerful and sweet as always. He goes to take her bags from her, but she drops them all at her feet and steps forward to give him a hug, a firm and tender thing that makes an annoying lump form in his throat.

"How are you?" she asks, stepping back to look at him; eyes raking over his face, hands on his cheeks. Really looks. She frowns at whatever she sees. "How's your mom?"

"Can you please just talk to me?" Steve begs, shivering in the hallway because they haven't budgeted for turning on the heat just yet. Wasn't supposed to get this cold for another pay cycle. He tugs the ends of his sweatshirt sleeves. His limbs feel stiff and tense, a budding anxiety like there’s a bomb in the base of his spine.

"Steven, darling, not now," his mother sighs as she sinks demurely onto the couch. "Then when!" he explodes. He doesn't want to yell at her, but, "Seriously, when? When are we going to say anything to each other that actually fucking matters, mom? I feel like I barely even know you anymore!"

"Yes, and I feel a migraine coming on; are you quite finished?"

"….She's fine," Steve answers.

Could be true, for all he knows.

The wrinkles between Claudia's brows deepen, like she wants to press the subject but decides to hold her tongue. "That's good to hear," she settles on after a moment, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek before stepping away with a subtle look that’s not mad, just disappointed.

Steve kind of wants to cry.

"Mom! Food!" Dustin hollers from the other room.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I swear I try to teach him manners."

"Well, good luck with that," she grins, the shadow of tension between them dissipating. Her mood is good like that. Resilient. Strong. Immune to outside force.

Steve’s moods, on the other hand, are more like those stainless steel fridges that promise to remain spotless but then end up covered in grubby handprints. (Exhibit A: he’s doing it right now.)

Thankfully Claudia’s got enough sunshine in her for the both of them. “Come on,” she says, extending a hand and wiggling her fingers for him to grab hold. “Let's eat."

—

part 7