#rapids challenge levels

[azcanyonrafting]

Rafting River Routes

Explore the best rafting river routes in the Grand Canyon with the expert help of Advantage Grand Canyon!

[rindomness]

i made this instead of playing the fucking level because i got scared. anyway. audrey where are you. i know im supposed to hate you but honestly im like 90% sure this is a mutually-fucked-over situation and i dont want to play dodge-the-spotlight any more

[martyrbat]

(literally shaking with anger over something not worth being angered over for over 30 minutes straight) aha yea i like to think (and hope!) that im generally a very understanding and supportive person to be around :)

[cinnamonghost]

me fighting ( and defeating) the donphan titan with arvens level 44 pokemon I've never seen while I have my level 28 floatzel and tsareena O__O

[mostlysignssomeportents]

AI’s productivity theater

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

When I took my kid to New Zealand with me on a book-tour, I was delighted to learn that grocery stores had special aisles where all the kids'-eye-level candy had been removed, to minimize nagging. What a great idea!

Related: countries around the world limit advertising to children, for two reasons:

1) Kids may not be stupid, but they are inexperienced, and that makes them gullible; and

2) Kids don't have money of their own, so their path to getting the stuff they see in ads is nagging their parents, which creates a natural constituency to support limits on kids' advertising (nagged parents).

There's something especially annoying about ads targeted at getting credulous people to coerce or torment other people on behalf of the advertiser. For example, AI companies spent millions targeting your boss in an effort to convince them that you can be replaced with a chatbot that absolutely, positively cannot do your job.

Your boss has no idea what your job entails, and is (not so) secretly convinced that you're a featherbedding parasite who only shows up for work because you fear the breadline, and not because your job is a) challenging, or b) rewarding:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/19/make-them-afraid/#fear-is-their-mind-killer

That makes them prime marks for chatbot-peddling AI pitchmen. Your boss would love to fire you and replace you with a chatbot. Chatbots don't unionize, they don't backtalk about stupid orders, and they don't experience any inconvenient moral injury when ordered to enshittify the product:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

Bosses are Bizarro-world Marxists. Like Marxists, your boss's worldview is organized around the principle that every dollar you take home in wages is a dollar that isn't available for executive bonuses, stock buybacks or dividends. That's why you boss is insatiably horny for firing you and replacing you with software. Software is cheaper, and it doesn't advocate for higher wages.

That makes your boss such an easy mark for AI pitchmen, which explains the vast gap between the valuation of AI companies and the utility of AI to the customers that buy those companies' products. As an investor, buying shares in AI might represent a bet the usefulness of AI – but for many of those investors, backing an AI company is actually a bet on your boss's credulity and contempt for you and your job.

But bosses' resemblance to toddlers doesn't end with their credulity. A toddler's path to getting that eye-height candy-bar goes through their exhausted parents. Your boss's path to realizing the productivity gains promised by an AI salesman runs through you.

A new research report from the Upwork Research Institute offers a look into the bizarre situation unfolding in workplaces where bosses have been conned into buying AI and now face the challenge of getting it to work as advertised:

https://www.upwork.com/research/ai-enhanced-work-models

The headline findings tell the whole story:

96% of bosses expect that AI will make their workers more productive;

85% of companies are either requiring or strongly encouraging workers to use AI;

49% of workers have no idea how AI is supposed to increase their productivity;

77% of workers say using AI decreases their productivity.

Working at an AI-equipped workplaces is like being the parent of a furious toddler who has bought a million Sea Monkey farms off the back page of a comic book, and is now destroying your life with demands that you figure out how to get the brine shrimp he ordered from a notorious Holocaust denier to wear little crowns like they do in the ad:

https://www.splcenter.org/fighting-hate/intelligence-report/2004/hitler-and-sea-monkeys

Bosses spend a lot of time thinking about your productivity. The "productivity paradox" shows a rapid, persistent decline in American worker productivity, starting in the 1970s and continuing to this day:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Productivity_paradox

The "paradox" refers to the growth of IT, which is sold as a productivity-increasing miracle. There are many theories to explain this paradox. One especially good theory came from the late David Graeber (rest in power), in his 2012 essay, "Of Flying Cars and the Declining Rate of Profit":

https://thebaffler.com/salvos/of-flying-cars-and-the-declining-rate-of-profit

Graeber proposes that the growth of IT was part of a wider shift in research approaches. Research was once dominated by weirdos (e.g. Jack Parsons, Oppenheimer, etc) who operated with relatively little red tape. The rise of IT coincides with the rise of "managerialism," the McKinseyoid drive to monitor, quantify and – above all – discipline the workforce. IT made it easier to generate these records, which also made it normal to expect these records.

Before long, every employee – including the "creatives" whose ideas were credited with the productivity gains of the American century until the 70s – was spending a huge amount of time (sometimes the majority of their working days) filling in forms, documenting their work, and generally producing a legible account of their day's work. All this data gave rise to a ballooning class of managers, who colonized every kind of institution – not just corporations, but also universities and government agencies, which were structured to resemble corporations (down to referring to voters or students as "customers").

Even if you think all that record-keeping might be useful, there's no denying that the more time you spend documenting your work, the less time you have to do your work. The solution to this was inevitably more IT, sold as a way to make the record-keeping easier. But adding IT to a bureaucracy is like adding lanes to a highway: the easier it is to demand fine-grained record-keeping, the more record-keeping will be demanded of you.

But that's not all that IT did for the workplace. There are a couple areas in which IT absolutely increased the profitability of the companies that invested in it.

First, IT allowed corporations to outsource production to low-waged countries in the global south, usually places with worse labor protection, weaker environmental laws, and easily bribed regulators. It's really hard to produce things in factories thousands of miles away, or to oversee remote workers in another country. But IT makes it possible to annihilate distance, time zone gaps, and language barriers. Corporations that figured out how to use IT to fire workers at home and exploit workers and despoil the environment in distant lands thrived. Executives who oversaw these projects rose through the ranks. For example, Tim Cook became the CEO of Apple thanks to his successes in moving production out of the USA and into China.

https://archive.is/M17qq

Outsourcing provided a sugar high that compensated for declining productivity…for a while. But eventually, all the gains to be had from outsourcing were realized, and companies needed a new source of cheap gains. That's where "bossware" came in: the automation of workforce monitoring and discipline. Bossware made it possible to monitor workers at the finest-grained levels, measuring everything from keystrokes to eyeball movements.

What's more, the declining power of the American worker – a nice bonus of the project to fire huge numbers of workers and ship their jobs overseas, which made the remainder terrified of losing their jobs and thus willing to eat a rasher of shit and ask for seconds – meant that bossware could be used to tie wages to metrics. It's not just gig workers who don't score consistent five star ratings from app users whose pay gets docked – it's also creative workers whose Youtube and Tiktok wages are cut for violating rules that they aren't allowed to know, because that might help them break the rules without being detected and punished:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/13/solidarity-forever/#tech-unions

Bossware dominates workplaces from public schools to hospitals, restaurants to call centers, and extends to your home and car, if you're working from home (AKA "living at work") or driving for Uber or Amazon:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/02/chickenized-by-arise/#arise

In providing a pretense for stealing wages, IT can increase profits, even as it reduces productivity:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

One way to think about how this works is through the automation-theory metaphor of a "centaur" and a "reverse centaur." In automation circles, a "centaur" is someone who is assisted by an automation tool – for example, when your boss uses AI to monitor your eyeballs in order to find excuses to steal your wages, they are a centaur, a human head atop a machine body that does all the hard work, far in excess of any human's capacity.

A "reverse centaur" is a worker who acts as an assistant to an automation system. The worker who is ridden by an AI that monitors their eyeballs, bathroom breaks, and keystrokes is a reverse centaur, being used (and eventually, used up) by a machine to perform the tasks that the machine can't perform unassisted:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But there's only so much work you can squeeze out of a human in this fashion before they are ruined for the job. Amazon's internal research reveals that the company has calculated that it ruins workers so quickly that it is in danger of using up every able-bodied worker in America:

https://www.vox.com/recode/23170900/leaked-amazon-memo-warehouses-hiring-shortage

Which explains the other major findings from the Upwork study:

81% of bosses have increased the demands they make on their workers over the past year; and

71% of workers are "burned out."

Bosses' answer to "AI making workers feel burned out" is the same as "IT-driven form-filling makes workers unproductive" – do more of the same, but go harder. Cisco has a new product that tries to detect when workers are about to snap after absorbing abuse from furious customers and then gives them a "Zen" moment in which they are showed a "soothing" photo of their family:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/ai-bringing-zen-first-horizons-192010166.html

This is just the latest in a series of increasingly sweaty and cruel "workplace wellness" technologies that spy on workers and try to help them "manage their stress," all of which have the (totally predictable) effect of increasing workplace stress:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/15/wellness-taylorism/#sick-of-spying

The only person who wouldn't predict that being closely monitored by an AI that snitches on you to your boss would increase your stress levels is your boss. Unfortunately for you, AI pitchmen know this, too, and they're more than happy to sell your boss the reverse-centaur automation tool that makes you want to die, and then sell your boss another automation tool that is supposed to restore your will to live.

The "productivity paradox" is being resolved before our eyes. American per-worker productivity fell because it was more profitable to ship American jobs to regulatory free-fire zones and exploit the resulting precarity to abuse the workers left onshore. Workers who resented this arrangement were condemned for having a shitty "work ethic" – even as the number of hours worked by the average US worker rose by 13% between 1976 and 2016:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/11/robots-stole-my-jerb/#computer-says-no

AI is just a successor gimmick at the terminal end of 40 years of increasing profits by taking them out of workers' hides rather than improving efficiency. That arrangement didn't come out of nowhere: it was a direct result of a Reagan-era theory of corporate power called "consumer welfare." Under the "consumer welfare" approach to antitrust, monopolies were encouraged, provided that they used their market power to lower wages and screw suppliers, while lowering costs to consumers.

"Consumer welfare" supposed that we could somehow separate our identities as "workers" from our identities as "shoppers" – that our stagnating wages and worsening conditions ceased mattering to us when we clocked out at 5PM (or, you know, 9PM) and bought a $0.99 Meal Deal at McDonald's whose low, low price was only possible because it was cooked by someone sleeping in their car and collecting food-stamps.

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/article/2024/jul/20/disneyland-workers-anaheim-california-authorize-strike

But we're reaching the end of the road for consumer welfare. Sure, your toddler-boss can be tricked into buying AI and firing half of your co-workers and demanding that the remainder use AI to do their jobs. But if AI can't do their jobs (it can't), no amount of demanding that you figure out how to make the Sea Monkeys act like they did in the comic-book ad is doing to make that work.

As screwing workers and suppliers produces fewer and fewer gains, companies are increasingly turning on their customers. It's not just that you're getting worse service from chatbots or the humans who are reverse-centaured into their workflow. You're also paying more for that, as algorithmic surveillance pricing uses automation to gouge you on prices in realtime:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/24/gouging-the-all-seeing-eye/#i-spy

This is – in the memorable phrase of David Dayen and Lindsay Owens, the "age of recoupment," in which companies end their practice of splitting the gains from suppressing labor with their customers:

https://prospect.org/economy/2024-06-03-age-of-recoupment/

It's a bet that the tolerance for monopolies made these companies too big to fail, and that means they're too big to jail, so they can cheat their customers as well as their workers.

AI may be a bet that your boss can be suckered into buying a chatbot that can't do your job, but investors are souring on that bet. Goldman Sachs, who once trumpeted AI as a multi-trillion dollar sector with unlimited growth, is now publishing reports describing how companies who buy AI can't figure out what to do with it:

https://www.goldmansachs.com/intelligence/pages/gs-research/gen-ai-too-much-spend-too-little-benefit/report.pdf

Fine, investment banks are supposed to be a little conservative. But VCs? They're the ones with all the appetite for risk, right? Well, maybe so, but Sequoia Capital, a top-tier Silicon Valley VC, is also publicly questioning whether anyone will make AI investments pay off:

https://www.sequoiacap.com/article/ais-600b-question/

I can't tell you how great it was to take my kid down a grocery checkout aisle from which all the eye-level candy had been removed. Alas, I can't figure out how we keep the nation's executive toddlers from being dazzled by shiny AI pitches that leave us stuck with the consequences of their impulse purchases.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/25/accountability-sinks/#work-harder-not-smarter

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[tarotfairy0919]

⏰⏳🕒How to predict timing with tarot cards?

©tarotfairy0919 - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, alter or repost my work.

Please REBLOG if you find this information useful! ༄˖°🪐.ೃ࿔*

While Tarot cards can provide insights and guidance on a situation, predicting precise timing can be difficult as the Tarot operates on a more intuitive and spiritual level rather than a literal timeframe.

It's important to remember that Tarot readings are meant to provide guidance, not concrete predictions. Trust in the process and allow the messages from the cards to unfold in their own time.

If timing is a crucial aspect of your question, consider seeking additional clarification from the cards or a professional Tarot reader.

Traditional tarot timing correspondences

WANDS - rapid action(hours to days), noon and spring

SWORDS - quick but not as fast as wands(days to weeks), morning and spring

CUPS - somehow slow( weeks to months), evening and autumn

PENTACLES - the slowest of all(months to years), midnight and winter

Note: If you want me to create a deck regarding timing feel free to send me an ask!

you can do it in a calendar spread and look for the first card that is the most representative(THE LOVERS, 2 OF CUPS, 9 OF CUPS - wish card, any of THE KNIGHTS, ACE OF CUPS) - in case if you wonder if a relationship will appear in future

the first card will represent the current month when is possible for the relationship to start/appear

if 2 of Cups is the 5th card - a relationship will appear in 5 months from now

you can also look at what sign the card represents and the relationship can start in that sign period

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Answer to “When?’’ Question According to Major Arcana Tarot Cards

The Fool - When you make a leap of faith, spontaneously

The Magician - When you are ready to manifest it, quickly

High Priestess - You already know when, trust your instinct, night, a new moon; Unrevealed

The Empress  - When factors align, 9 months

The Lovers - When you make a decision

The Chariot - Fast moving card / When you are determined

Strength - When you believe in yourself

The Hermit - Slow moving card/ After a period of self reflection/solitude

Wheel of fortune - When the divine timing is ready, anytime & without notice, soon

Hanged Man - Stagnant, this situation will require your patience. When you change your perspective or surrender and accept, undetermined

Temperance - Things may happen slowly. Patience and moderation

The Tower - Suddenly, unexpectedly, abruptly, immediately

The Sun  - Summer, a year

The Star - When you believe

The Moon - A month

Judgement - Winter, stormy weather

The World - When the divine timing is ready, slowly

Lots of lower numbers - long time

8, 9, 10 cards - rapid conclusion

Using the numbers of the minor arcana it can be an indicator of when an approaching event may be likely to happen. By using a simple mathematical formula, we can arrive at a projection. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟnumber + suit = timing

For example, if the outcome card is the 2 of Wands, we could deduce the following: 2 + days = 2 days

This may suggest the event may happen in two days, or that it will last for two days.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Asking the right question & Reading the cards first:

By focusing on more specific questions and considering the potential story or sequence of events, you can gain deeper insights into the situation.

When encountering multiple reversed or negative cards, it could indicate obstacles or challenges that need to be addressed before progress can be made. It's all about understanding the nuances and layers within each reading to uncover the underlying messages and guidance.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Minor Arcana Timing Methods - Season Method

Each suit in Tarot is indeed associated with one of the four elements, which in turn correlates to one of the four seasons:

Wands (Fire): Associated with the element of Fire, symbolizing passion, energy, and creativity. This suit corresponds to the season of Spring, where growth and new beginnings are prevalent.

Cups (Water): Representing the element of Water, Cups signify emotions, intuition, and relationships. This suit is connected to the season of Summer, reflecting nurturing and deeper emotional connections.

Swords (Air): Aligned with the element of Air, Swords signify intellect, communication, and mental clarity. This suit is linked to the season of Autumn, where critical thinking and decision-making are emphasized.

Pentacles (Earth): Tied to the element of Earth, Pentacles represent material aspects, stability, and abundance. This suit correlates with the season of Winter, symbolizing practicality, grounding, and financial matters.

The number method in tarot can provide additional insights into timing within a reading.

By considering the numbers on the cards drawn, you can make predictions about when an event may occur.

For instance, if you draw the Six of Wands and the Six of Cups in response to a question like "When will I find love?" the presence of the number six in both cards could indicate a time frame ranging from 6 days up to 6 months for the event to unfold.

This method adds a layer of specificity and helps in understanding the potential timing of future events based on the cards drawn.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Major Arcana Timing Methods: Zodiac Sign Method

Astrological correspondences can also be used to predict timing in tarot readings, particularly with Major Arcana cards. Each Major Arcana card is associated with a specific astrological sign or planet, providing insights into timing and potential events.

By understanding the astrological correspondences of the Major Arcana cards drawn in a reading, you can gain insights into the timing and potential influences of celestial energies on the situation at hand.

The Fool: Aquarius (January 20-February 18)

The Magician: Gemini (May 21- June 20)

The High Priestess: Cancer (June 21-July 20)

The Empress: Taurus (April 21-May 20)

The Emperor: Aries (March 21-April 20)

The Hierophant: Taurus (April 21-May 20)

The Lovers: Gemini (May 21-June 20)

The Chariot: Cancer (June 21-July 20)

The Strength: Leo (July 21- August 20)

The Hermit: Virgo (August 21- September 20)

The Wheel of Fortune: Four fixed signs (Taurus, Leo, Scorpio, Aquarius)

The Justice: Libra (September 21-October 20)

The Hanged Man: Pisces (February 21-March 20)

The Death: Scorpio (October 21-November 20)

The Temperance: Sagittarius (November 21-December 20)

The Devil: Capricorn (December 21-January 20)

The Tower: Scorpio and Aries (October 21-November 20) (March 21-April 20)

The Star: Aquarius (January 21-February 20)

The Moon: Pisces (February 21-March 20)

The Sun: Leo (July 21- August 20)

The Judgement: Scorpio (October 21-November 20)

The World: Capricorn (December 21-January 20)

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡oopsie you already reached the end ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

[reasonsforhope]

"Discarded shells from restaurants and hotels are being used to restore damaged oyster ecosystems, promote biodiversity and lower pollution in the city’s bays...

Nestled in between the South China Sea and the Pearl River Delta, Hong Kong has been seen historically as an oyster hotspot. “They have been supporting our livelihood since ancient times,” says Anniqa Law Chung-kiu, a project manager at the Nature Conservancy (TNC) in Hong Kong. “Both oysters and their shells are treasures to humans.”

Over the past five decades, however, the city’s sprawling urban development, water pollution, as well as the over-harvesting and frequent seafloor dredging by the lime industry – which uses the crushed shells to make construction material – have destroyed Hong Kong’s oyster habitats and made the waters less hospitable for biodiversity.

The more oyster colonies falter, the worse the problem gets: oysters are filter feeders and purify water by gobbling up impurities. Just one Hong Kong oyster can filter up to 200 litres of water a day, more than any other known oyster species. But decades of rapid industrialisation have largely halted their water-purifying services.

The depletion of Hong Kong’s natural oyster reefs also affects the ability of local farmers to sustainably cultivate their oysters in a healthy environment, denting the reputation of the city’s 700-year oyster farming tradition, designated by Unesco as an “intangible cultural heritage”.

Inhabitants of the coast feel abandoned, says Ken Cheng Wai-kwan, the community leader of Ha Pak Nai on Hong Kong’s Deep Bay, facing the commercial city of Shenzhen in China. “This place is forgotten,” Cheng says. “Oysters have been rooted here for over 400 years. I ask the question: do we want to lose it, or not?”

A group of activists and scientists are taking up the challenge by collecting discarded oyster shells and recycling them to rebuild some of the reefs that have been destroyed and forgotten in the hope the oysters may make a comeback. They’ve selected locations around the island where data they’ve collected suggests ecosystems still have the potential to be rebooted, and there are still enough oyster larvae to recolonise and repopulate reefs. Ideally, this will have a positive effect on local biodiversity as a whole, and farming communities.

Farmers from Ha Pak Nai were among the first to hand over their discarded shells to the TNC team for recycling. Law’s team works with eight oyster farmers from Deep Bay to recycle up to 10 tonnes of shells every year [over 22,000 pounds]. They collect an average of 870kg every week [over 1,900 pounds] from 12 hotels, supermarkets, clubhouses and seafood restaurants in the city, including some of its most fashionable establishments. About 80 tonnes of shells [over 176,000 pounds] have been recycled since the project began in 2020.

Restaurants will soon be further incentivised to recycle the shells when Hong Kong introduces a new fee for waste removal – something that is routine in many countries, but only became law in Hong Kong in July and remains controversial...

Preliminary data shows some of the restored reefs have started to increase the levels of biodiversity, but more research is needed to determine to what extent they are contributing to the filtering of the water, says Law.

Scientists from the City University of Hong Kong are also looking to use oyster shells to increase biodiversity on the city’s concrete seawalls. They hope to provide tiny, wet shelter spots around the seawall in which organisms can find refuge during low tide.

“It’s a form of soft engineering, like a nature-based solution,” says Charlene Lai, a research assistant on the team."

-via The Guardian, December 22, 2023

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, come on, there’s just —” Will blows an errant curl from out of his eyes, cheeks red with exertion, balancing nimbly on his feet to put both hands on his hips. “There’s no way, Nico.”

Nico, not blessed with such balance, has to hold all footholds with all limbs, staring warily at the lava wall’s snake holes.

“What? I’m just not as good as you.”

Will flops his right arm outwards, narrowly avoiding smacking it against the rock. “But you are!”

Nico shifts his wary gaze from the snake holes to Will’s rope harness. Is it tight enough? It better be tight enough. Will is putting a lot of faith in it, right now.

“You scaled those cliffs in — in the place —” he trips, still, over the pit, on the odd time he mentions it, and it always makes Nico wince — “like it was nothing! And whenever Percy visits and challenges you you’re suddenly the lava wall expert!” He turns stern blue eyes to face Nico’s head-on. “Not buying it, di Angelo!”

A gush of lava forces him to resume climbing, but there’s an aggression to his movements — a specific, stiff, curated aggression, that Nico has learned means anxiety in people known as William Andrew Solace. That, and coupled with the rapid muttering which, in between the roar of molten stone, Nico believes is a a repetition of “dumbass” “always tryna act a goddamn fool” and “I’m gonna kill him before he sends me into cardiac arrest again”, interspersed with random swears in English, Latin, Ancient Greek, and also — gods — Klingon.

“Will.”

Will ignores him, scampering the last few feet up the wall and slapping the top before relaying down. Nico sighs, following him (albeit significantly slower).

“Will.”

“You’re hiding something from me.” He practically rips the harness off his body — do not think about that do not think about that do not think about that — and shoves it on the hook so hard it damn near snaps off. The look he levels in Nico’s direction practically turns him to stone, it’s so frigid, and he has to resist a shiver. “I can tell.”

It takes a good amount of pushing to make Will all testy like this. Sure, his buttons are easy to push, but most of that is for show. He likes to be dramatic. (Especially because he knows Nico will indulge him, more than anyone else ever has. He relishes in it, Nico thinks; he likes that Nico will watch his productions. An Apollo kid through and through.) He’s not usually one to show his genuine frustration.

But, hoo, boy, when he is frustrated.

Nico has a bad, bad habit of making it worse.

(As if it’s his fault that Will’s hot when he’s mad.)

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nico says, forcibly lightly. He sticks his hand out defiantly. “Check me, why don’t you? Not hiding anything.”

He really isn’t. No injuries, no illness, hell, he’s not even tired. Had a full three meals and everything. Even his perpetually achey joints aren’t bad today.

All of this, obviously, is communicated when Will touches him, squinting suspiciously at their joined hands.

“You’re heart rate is high,” he mutters petulantly.

Nico looks at him patiently. “That’s ‘cause my smokeshow boyfriend is holding my hand.”

Grumpy as he’s trying to be, his ears redden. A smile twitches at the corner of his mouth.

“Shut up.”

Nico grins, pulling his hand up to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the knuckles.

“No.”

“Whatever,” Will says, snatching his hand back. His smile spreads widely across his face, now, and he looks away, as pleased as he is exasperated. “You’re still being a weirdo. I should not be so far ahead of you on the wall, Neeks.”

Success — back to nicknames. Crisis averted.

“Have you considered that you’re the camp-wide record holder for a reason, you spider monkey?”

“Still!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico gets up on his tiptoes, pressing a lingering kiss to the bridge of his freckled nose. “Stop worrying about me, Solace. I’m fine. Burn off some steam, I’ll watch.”

Will huffs. “Fine. But I’ll find out, y’hear me? Truth can’t hide from me for long.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He watches as Will suits back up, helping him with his more complicated straps (because Nico was raised to be a gentleman, obviously, why else) and shooing him away when he opens his mouth for more interrogations. He switches to sticking out his tongue, and after a moment of hesitation, bounds back over to his first true love — being a big nerdy jock dork.

Nico settles on the grass several feet away from the wall, pretending to clean his sword. After a few minutes, he hears footsteps, and two people sit next to him on either side.

“So,” says Lou Ellen, ignoring Nico’s suspicious look as she tosses a glowing ball of something around, “how come you’re not climbing?”

Nico shrugs. “Only so many times you can climb before it gets boring.”

On his other side, Cecil makes a loud buzzer sound.

“Nope! Wrong answer. Try again.”

Nico is a dignified grownup who refuses to stoop down to Cecil’s level by responding. Instead, he reaches over and pokes him in his ridiculously sensitive ribs, hard, sending him sprawling with a screech.

“Shut up,” he says mildly, as his friend flails. “I’m trying to be a supportive boyfriend, and I can’t do that with all your whining.”

Will has, in the ten minutes since he started, made it halfway up the wall. He seems to have it programmed to the Super Extra Mega Evil Insane mode that the Athena and Ares kids invented just for him, since he smoked all the other levels. He dodges a shot of lava with a laugh, throwing himself to the side and hanging on with three fingers and one scuffed sneaker poised on the tiniest sliver of rock. His attention is broken when Lou Ellen sticks her face right in Nico’s field of vision, tracing Nico’s eyeline with narrowed eyes.

“Ah,” she nods knowingly. “You’re staring at his ass.”

Nico falters, damn near slicing his own fingers off. “No idea what you’re talking about,” he says blithely. He gestures without looking at his sword. “I’m busy, see?”

She scoffs. “Real busy. That’s why you almost just did emergency surgery on yourself.”

“Exactly.”

Will pushes up a foot, shifting his hips and launching himself upwards. He makes a little shout of victory, plastering himself to the wall to keep balance, every muscle tensed.

From his place on the floor, Cecil makes an appreciative noise. “He does have a nice ass. Can’t blame you for looking.”

Nico frowns. “Hey. Stop objectifying my boyfriend.” He reaches out and smacks a hand over Cecil’s eyes. “That’s my job.”

“You guys are ridiculous.”

Nico reaches over and puts a hand over her eyes, too, ‘cause there’s no missing where they’re pointed.

“Shut up or I’ll literally put shadows into your retinae and blind you forever,” Nico threatens. (Is this a thing he can do? No. Do his friends know this? Also no.)

“You’re a dictator!” Cecil protests.

“Depriving us of basic human rights!” Lou Ellen agrees.

Nico shrugs. He glances back up the the climbing wall, where he has a very perfect view — and a great reason to never even try to climb faster than Will does. He grins.

“Too bad for you guys.”

[brewed-pangolin]

Imagine what a menace Soap would be with these

Challenged Territory

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x Fem Reader

18+ MDNI Explicit Smut, P in V, Soap getting all territorial over silly bruises, cue the Scottish bear

Synopsis: You play a round of rapid fire which ends with a quick session. But those bruises forming ignite the primal side of Soap and he takes it upon himself to mark you as his own

Okay. Call me crazy but I'm for damn sure Soap MacTavish puts play dates down on the calendar.

Just like date nights, movie nights, and camping weekends. Play dates are a must to keep the relationship fresh and full of vigor, especially when he's gone for extended periods of time.

And these little blasters are right up his alley.

But he'd want a fair fight, so expect to be taken to the range a few times to perfect that aim and steady your hand.

Once he's satisfied with your skill level, all hell breaks lose and he ain't holding back.

Your only indication that he's put the game into play will be your blaster on your bedside table. With him already staking out his perfect sniping position as you mentally prepare for the fire fight about to ensue.

And it always ends the same way. Both naked, breathless, and entangled on the living room floor as you tally up who got the most shots to the ass.

And those circular bruises growing on your flesh are nothing compared to the reddened handprint plastered on your left butt cheek.

--

"You can't count-, those slaps-, as hits, Soap," you muttered. A groggy whimper echoing off your tongue.

"Haud yer wheesht, lass. Beat ya by a solid 20. Easily"

"Pfft. 20's pushing it, trigger man."

"Doubt it. Cannae miss hittin' tha sweet ass a'yers."

You shoved your elbow into the center of his chest with a boisterous laugh, forcing a rumbling groan from his throat as he turned you onto your back and caged you beneath his muscular and gel tattered form.

"Ya wanna go 'nother round?" He asked with an excited growl. Eyes brimming in cerulean conquest as a curling smile formed on his kiss ravaged lips.

"Why? You clearly already beat me."

"Wasn't talkin' bout the game, bonnie," he purred lowly. His Scottish brogue thick as molasses as he pressed the bulbous tip of his cock against your wet and silken entrance.

"Feelin' a bit outdone by yer bruises. Need ta add some a'me own. Gotta-," he halted with a groan. Voice catching in his throat as he pushed between your folds and gradually pumped his hardened length into the welcoming walls of your cunt.

You rolled your eyes with a muffled moan, arching your back off the floor to assist in his entry as he glacially thrusted himself until fully seated.

"Johnny," you whimpered. Mouth open with a silent moan as your greedy walls clenched around him.

"I know, bonnie. Yer always so fuckin' tight fer me, aren't ya?" He growled as he encapsulated his mouth over your lips.

Devouring your moans before pulling away. Grabbing tightly at the flesh of your hips as he flared his chest and moved to sit on his haunches.

"Gonnae fuckin' wreck ya, lass."

The bellow that echoed in his brogue sent a spiraling shiver down your spine. Causing you to pulse around him as he hoisted your legs up and rest over his shoulders.

Clawing your nails along the floor for purchase as he pistoned his hips against your ass in a primal and aggressive thrust.

"Johnny!" You wailed, followed by a breathless gasp. Chest heaving, breasts bouncing as your body undulated with the waves of inertia from his forceful drives.

"Tha's it. Gonnae mark ya. Make ya mine. Make ya scream fer me."

Your body went into overdrive as he continually pistoned his cock into your aching cunt. Mind going nearly blank except for one thought that rolled around behind your eyes.

Soap saw those circular marks as a challenge, even if they were done so by his own hand. His need to mark you, claim you as his own pushed him into his primal state as he gripped with measured force into the supple flesh of your thighs.

And you loved it. The growls emanating from the caverns of his chest. The crazed yet loving glare in his eyes as he marked his territory with every throbbing plunge of his cock.

You'd carry those bruises with pride the next morning as you gazed at your figure in the mirror. The only change you'd make is the location. The bruises you loved. The rug burn, not so much.

Drabbles Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @punishmepunisher @d3athtr4psworld @glitterypirateduck @astraluminaaa @shotmrmiller @jynxmirage @obligatoryghoststare @mykneeshurt @simpingoverquestionablemen @thetrashpossum @ghosts-goldendoodle @designateddeadend @foxface013 @queen-ilmaree @haurasha @havoc973 @luismickydees @kkaaaagt

[dcxdpdabbles]

Have you seen the halfa cass post that's been floating around? I'd love to see your take on that

I'm going to assume you mean the au made by @phandomhyperfixationblog so I'll write about that but if I am wrong please let me know in another ask or message.

Cass was sent to Amity Park to investigate its residents' disappearance. Ghost towns in the USA were fairly common, often after they were abandoned, the earth would reclaim the land and would be left untouched for years to come until a lucky urban exploder discovered it again.

What wasn't uncommon was that everything was left behind when the town was abandoned. Cass walks down three more streets, eyes taking in everything around her. Although the lawns were vastly overgrown and the houses left to the elements, there weren't a lot of open spaces.

Empty cars were parked perfectly along the road or in a lot, chairs and tables on porches were left out, children's toys laid in driveways, and after squinting through a few windows, she could see fully furnished households- some even had a slight mess as if the owners hadn't gotten around to their household chores yet.

One house even had a dinner table set up. The meal was rotten and smelled, but she could tell it was a family dinner that was interrupted mid-way.

Yes, everything was covered in dust, as if years had gone by since someone was last here, but otherwise, it looked like a thriving community had been here only a few days ago.

Even the stores were fully stoked, aisled upon aisled of merchandise left untouched for who knows how long. Restuantants were similar, rotten food aside, everything was open and set up as like a normal bussniess hour.

Overall, it didn't seem like the residents willingly abandoned this place. They left literally everything behind. Nothing showed looting either, which indicated how uncommonly outsiders came here.

The fact Cass was investigating Amity Park at all was because she was doing a favor for Raven. The girls didn't talk much, but it was the least she could do as the magic-user had helped her with a fight in Hong Kong a few days ago.

Raven claimed that an abnormal energy pulse came from the town. It wasn't wrong; some places just had more natural energy to them, but she had always wondered what the cause was.

It is a low-level mystery that she put off exploring due to all other priorities, but about a week ago, Raven sensed another pulse-this one reeking of death- and had asked Cass to check it out while she went on a space mission with the rest of the Titans.

She was supposed to take picutes, do some scenes and get some readings. Cass was not expecting to find literally no one for miles.

Cass slowly made her way down streets, breaking into houses and stores, looking for clues. She found no signs of a struggle but that may be due to the time frame of when this happened.

It wasn't until she got to Fenton Works that she managed that she could figure out some parts of the puzzle. The building itself was a challenge to get into. It was rigged to the teeth with weapons and security measures.

Some were old and rusted, but a majority quickly powered up to shoot at her as she tried to get past. Ducking and weaving through the blast she felt all her muscles burn from the rapid dodge she was doing.

Through years of training, she turned a handstand into a run and then a leap to crash through the front window, and the weapons outside halted as soon as she rolled to a stop in what appeared to be a cozy living room.

Weary, she watched as the gun blasters slowly retreated back into the slight holes along the roof, the fake pathway, and the gnome. Once done the world fell silent again. It's now that Cass startles.

She hadn't noticed Amity Park's silence until it was broken. She hadn't heard birds or the wind blowing through the leaves as she walked. Something was terribly wrong in this place.

Maybe she can find out what it was in Fenton Works.

She began her search by examining the walls. They were lined with family photos- a family of father, mother, and what she assumes are the children of both based on facial features, one girl and one boy. There are art pieces every so often- primarily abstract. The furniture is nothing expensive- coming from a generic furniture store. The kitchen smells rotten food- like most houses- but there is a stack of books on the table.

Cass peers down at them, noticing that they all revolve around a psychology of some sort. An open book is lying next to a notebook filled with notes for teenage development. A pencil is even left over the last unfinished sentence.

Danny's need for acceptance may be due to living in my shadow. I should show him more support.

Cass moves upstairs after confirming there is nothing else of value. There, he finds three rooms- a master bedroom obviously belonging to the parents, a slightly larger room belonging to the girl, and the smallest bedroom belonging to the boy.

Cass can confirm that the girl was tidier than the boy but while her room seemed less personal than the boy's. While the boy has far more personal touches to his belongings, nothing seems to be in order or so driven.

The parents' room was covered with either machinery that could be weapons or images of their children. Whoever they are- or were they loved the two deeply.

In the master bathroom, Cass found that the couple habitually wrote sticky notes with their to-do lists taped on the bathroom mirror's corner. She could tell the differences in handwriting and word choice- the mother wrote explanations while the father did short annotations.

Clean the beakers in lab zone 2. They are releasing gasses, so they must be disposed of properly.

Jazzy-pants slam poetry night. Nov 19th. 6pm.

Danny's sleep study. Dec 10th. Teachers said he's been falling asleep in class too often. It might be Narcolospy!

Dinner Date with Maddie. Nov 22. Classical music reservation.

Cass taps her chin. This happened before December but what year and where did everyone go?

She looks down at the sticky notes again, noticing that many speak about a "lab" downstairs. Seeing as she did not find a lab on the ground level, that only left a lower one.

Leaving the bedroom, she makes her way down to the basement, where she does, in fact, find a large lab. There is a clutter of tools for the eye to see, all surrounding what looks like everyday household items and weapons.

Cass's lips thin as she takes in the strangely shaped guns, staffs, and blades. A weapon maifator? But why here? She tried the computers she scattered about, but none worked. She didn't think so, seeing as the electricity had been shut down across the city, but she had hoped.

Thankfully, this family seemed to believe in paper and pencils because she could find multiple writings throughout the lab. It's mathematical, primarily formulas, a half-baked thesis of "ecto-being" behavior, and notes on "ecto-beings." portal.

A portal that is sitting at the far right of the lab. Cass walks around the perimeter checking to see if it has any traps, but finds none. Then she walks over to the controllers testing the power on it.

She pressed the on button waits forty seconds to confirm that it was not active before she entered the portal. It resembles an early design of the zeta tubes. Maybe the family here were trying to develop teleporting technology-

"GET OUT OF THERE!" Someone shouts. Cass jumps a good foot in the air, swinging around with her fists raised for battle. She hadn't heard him! Hadn't sensed him at all!

It's been long since anyone has gotten the drop on her. She is just grateful she is wearing a mask- not her batgirl or Orphan gear but rather a borrowed ninja outfit Damian had granted her- since it means her identity is protected from the glowing man at the stairway's base.

Wait, glowing?

She opens her mouth to demand to know who he is when the portal powers on. She only had a moment to bite back a swear before her world exploded in pain.

Cass can hear herself scream, but it's too far away from the agony of electricity being poured into her body. She is being ripped apart by it, pushed and molded, and put back together again, only to start the process repeatedly.

It feels like ages before she can't handle it anymore- again, it's been years since that last happened- before the world fades away and she falls into blissful slumber

She has smoke-grey hair and glowing opal-white eyes when she wakes hours later.

The man is leaning over her with snow-white hair and glowing green eyes, looking worried as Cass finds that her body can no longer stay solid. It seemed that she had died and now had the body of a ghost.

She knows who makes this.

"Hello, Danny," She says, pushing through the pain of her death. Oh gods, how will Bruce react when he learns about her stupid error. She doesn't want to think about it, so she pushes it away to give the startled man an empty smile. She had to at least figure out the mystery so that her death can not be in vain."I have some questions about Amity Park."

[sushisocks]

Thinking about Lenny and Sean.

Thinking about how Sean, representing the liveliness and optimism of the gang, has to be unavailable in Colter, just so that we, upon arrival in Horseshoe & his return to the gang, can really remember Colter as a dour opposition to the light, fun, easiness that is Horseshoe Overlook.

Thinking about how Sean is the last to be introduced and the first to die; how he HAS to be the first to die, as the most light-hearted, easy-going, fun-loving one of them. Every camp after Clemens Point is decidedly more dour, less light, mirroring what they have lost with his death. Even the two parties are noticably different, from Sean's party in Horseshoe being genuinely fun and full of hope, to Jack's party, while starting as well as one could hope, being marred by anger and sorrow; fights, and sadness, and quiet. It ends in a storm which cuts the party off; sends everyone inside and to bed, where Sean literally stays up singing and drinking until light. The game is telling us that things are no longer the same, through the environment. Things have changed, irrevocably, and they will only get worse from here on out.

Sean dies at the game's halfway point; end of chapter 3 of 6. He is the first to die of the gang members we truly get to know. It is surprising and jarring and grotesque. The effect is IMMEDIATE, although subtle, but absolutely there. Sean dies, and the dread starts creeping in. His death is the underlining of Arthur's kidnapping; Arthur might be fine for now but that doesn't mean things aren't getting worse.

Then Lenny, who alongside Jack represents the future, and the gang's hope. Note how they're both acknowledged as exceedingly smart; Jack for his age, and Lenny just in general (though he is also young by everyone's standards), and that Hosea is fond of both of them. The critical difference is that Jack represents youthful innocence in a way Lenny doesn't; Lenny is fully aware of what the gang is, what it does, and why it exists. He is seen talking about and understanding the societal factors that have led him to this way of life; specifically pointing out the impact of slavery and its abolishment on his quality of life as a black man.

Lenny is the only one who can be seen challenging Dutch at an intellectual level. Lenny dies, and there's little rationale left in the gang. And we are immediately treated to watching the start of Dutch's more rapid decline in Guarma. Lenny is buried next to Hosea, the (arguably) oldest gang member, with the most experience to guide them. There goes the future and past of the gang; the only voices which arguably could've made a difference.

He is also, notably, the only death who is not given a cutscene. Blink and it's done, and you're left in shock and disbelief, watching Arthur stay until the last second to not let the youngest member of the gang die alone.

So what's my point here? Well, I think it's worth pointing out that these two, alongside Molly, are the ending notes of chapter 3,4, and 5, all setting the tone for the chapter to come. Each signify the further detoriation of the gang -- they lose something with each death; a life and gun, sure, but also what that person in part represented. Optimism, reasonability, compassion. And each death is brutal; sudden; jarring, in distinct ways. Then, at last, Arthur is the final death, at the end of chapter 6. The gang is already done, by that point.

I also in part think it's interesting that part of the reason Sean and Lenny die is their own flaws. Sean's easy-going inattentive nature leaves him wide open, too busy making a quick-witted quip to keep an eye out -- even when Arthur, the most senior member among them, makes it clear something is wrong, which SHOULD put one on guard in that situation. Lenny, who believes himself lucky and intelligent, also has a sense of arrogance and recklessness which has him running headfirst into danger without looking.

I love them a lot, but I think their survival inherently would mean a very different story from the one RDR2 is. Also think they absolutely would have sided with Arthur in the end, but those are both completely different rants I'll save for another time :'^)

[azcanyonrafting]

Rapids Classification

How To Choose The Perfect Rapids For Your Skill Level

The International Scale of River Difficulty (ISRD) rates Class I through VI rapids. Class III rapids are suitable for intermediates with some experience in white water rafting.

To have a good time while whitewater rafting, you must choose rapids matching your skill level. This means understanding how rapid classes work and knowing what to expect at each level.

Advantage Grand Canyon are experts in this field. Our guide is here to help you navigate various classes of rapids and find a suitable adventure in the Grand Canyon.

Classes of Rapids: The International Scale of River Difficulty

For a rafter, each stretch of river represents varying levels of challenge depending on their skills and experience. However, knowing this system ensures they select waters proportionate to their ability and safety measures throughout the journey while making it enjoyable.

Class I Rapids (Beginner)

Beginners or those who have never experienced whitewater should start with class one rivers such as the Badger Creek Rapid in the Grand Canyon.

Due to their smoothness, these rapids are very gentle and can be manipulated by anyone, even without basic skills. Hence, they offer great opportunities to appreciate scenic beauty without encountering difficulties like capsizing.

Class II Rapids (Novice)

Class II rapids might require more maneuverability but are still mild enough for novices and families looking for easy thrills. With just simple rafting skills and wearing life jackets alone, one may quickly navigate through them since they only involve minor splashing, which makes one feel less crowded. Thus, they are ideal places for kids accompanied by families.

Temperatures can be controlled during early spring or summer when sea levels rise. House Rock Rapid is one of the top Class II rapids with small waves and minor obstacles, providing more excitement while still being accessible for less experienced rafters.

Class III Rapids (Intermediate)

Class III Rapids offer moderate waves requiring maneuvering through narrow passages during Dead River trips, where helmets must be worn due to some moderately steep drops and small waves that demand teamwork and quick thinking, leading to fun challenges.

The turbulent drops of the Dead River and the dynamic current in Kennebec’s Penobscot River, which can be described as the fast river flow of Class III rapids, still offer its riders quite a challenge. More physical strength and thrilling emotions can be achieved when you choose rafting trips in adventure sports where people are involved in rafts and pass through different rapid river turns.

If you want to have a lot of fun and be tired while rowing on Class III rapids, then this is what you need. Select the right difficulty level for yourself, take all necessary measures before starting your journey, and rest assured that it will be one excellent whitewater rafting experience.

Hance Rapid is another great intermediate rapid with chaotic waves and tight spaces. It provides a moderate test requiring adept maneuvering skills; intermediate paddlers looking for excitement should consider Granite Rapid.

Class IV Rapids (Advanced)

Class IV rapids are suitable for advanced and intermediate rafters. The river has high power but predictability regarding wave sizes, thus demanding more accurate boat handling techniques than any other category. Large yet unproven waves require narrow passes, so quick moves must be made by experienced guides who can recognize them easily. Otherwise, damages may occur since rescue becomes extremely difficult due to the conditions presented here.

For intermediate rafters, these advanced rapids are exciting because they push their abilities without being too dangerous like expert-level rapids would do; strong currents coupled with powerful waves occasionally dropping down call for confident spokesmanship as well precise steering ability from behind paddles that, even though not extreme compared with class five require good familiarity with white-water courses together fast reflexes if one wants negotiate safely through complex choppy sections which characterize these parts most liked by those having some knowledge about this sport but not enough experience.

Lava Falls and Hermit Rapid in the Grand Canyon provide perfect challenges for skilled kayakers who enjoy steep gradients combined with large waves and turbulence.

Class V Rapids (Expert)

Class V rapids are long, violent, known as challenging rapids, and have hard-to-maneuver features. They represent the ultimate challenge in whitewater rafting. Highly turbulent waters, large and irregular waves, powerful and unpredictable currents, and steep drops over rocks are just a few characteristics that make Class V rapids so dangerous.

To paddle through Class V rapids, one needs to be skilled at paddling, have quick reflexes, and be able to make decisions under pressure. Only those experienced enough should attempt paddling through them because they can easily get injured or their boat may capsize if they do not wear the right gear to protect against such risks.

This is why we at Advantage Grand Canyon recommend only trained experts to undertake this activity, as it requires more demanding fitness levels along longer routes than any other category does; however, most people prefer taking up courses where necessary skills like appropriate equipment knowledge as well rescue techniques would greatly help ensure safety while attempting various challenging parts found within higher sections meant for expert-level rafters.

Crystal Rapid is one of the most complex and dangerous rapids on the Colorado River in Grand Canyon National Park. It is a class five rapid, which means that you must have advanced paddling skills to navigate down this section successfully. Otherwise, things might turn out differently from what had been planned since several huge waves could quickly sweep away even an experienced rafter like yourself.

Class VI Rapids (Extreme)

Whitewater rapids are classified from class I to class VI. Class VI rapids are the most complex and dangerous rapids to be attempted in a raft. They are considered almost impossible to navigate because they are unpredictable and have many hazards.

These kinds of rapids have big and standing waves created by powerful currents and often steep drops – sometimes over rocks or other obstacles like undercurrents which may flip rafts or suck them underwater for long periods. Rafters need extensive experience before attempting this level; depending on the conditions, it may still be too risky.

In rapid classification, classifying one as class six means it is highly hazardous and usually does not run during normal circumstances, requiring extraordinary expertise, precise steering, and carefulness. Most experts agree that professionals who have mastered all aspects of river running safety skills should only attempt anything higher than Class V, including rescue techniques.

Choosing The Right Whitewater Rafting Adventure

Several considerations besides whitewater classification should be made before selecting a whitewater rafting adventure to ensure your safety and enjoyment throughout the rafting trip. First, evaluate your experience level; beginners should start on manageable sections with gentle currents where they can learn basic paddling strokes without much risk.

Class I and II rapids provide an environment suitable for families with young children or people who wish to relax while being introduced to this sport. Secondarily, if you are looking forward to more thrilling experiences, go for those rivers with moderate complexity levels, such as III, which require advanced skills like reading water correctly, among others.

If you’re an intermediate rafter interested in testing yourself against serious rapids, then Class IV should be right up your alley. Such rivers demand strong paddle work combined with fast reflexes since you will encounter turbulent stretches where navigation becomes tricky due to numerous obstacles like holes and rocks.

Honesty is vital when choosing the appropriate rafting trip for yourself or your group.

Grade IV represents a substantial step up from many different classes in terms of difficulty, so one should have adequate skills before attempting such sections. If you are unsure about your capability, go for less challenging whitewater that matches your abilities. Otherwise, there might arise a need for rescue operations, which could put others at risk, too.

Location and scenery are other critical factors in choosing the proper whitewater rafting adventure. For example, different rivers offer landscapes ranging from lush forests to scenic canyons or even rugged mountains; therefore, researching different destinations will help you find a place that satisfies the desire for natural beauty and the thrill-seeking spirit within.

Final Words

In conclusion, choosing the proper whitewater rafting adventure involves carefully assessing your skill level, desired location, river trip length, and needed guidance. Considering these factors and the rapid classification from above, you can select a rafting experience that matches your abilities and preferences, ensuring a thrilling and safe adventure on the water.

Contact Advantage Grand Canyon today to search for rafting trips from all the top 15 outfitters in one place and book your next Grand Canyon rafting trip!

[scientia-rex]

Hallo!! I really appreciate your blog and how open and invested you are in wellbeing outside of medical fatphobia and other ways medicine as an institution can suck. It's also great to see a humanized side of working in medicine, so thank you for your openness :) You mentioned recently not prescribing bariatric surgery to patients except in rare, specific cases. If you have time and energy, would you be able to share a little more about what you think about bariatric surgery when those particular conditions aren't present? Also please feel free to ignore this ask if you're not up for it. Hope you have a great day! 🌸🌼🌺

When someone is fat to the point where they can't do daily activities of living like dressing themselves, walking, etc., then bariatric surgery probably has a place.

However, bariatric surgery has risks. Lots of them. To start with, there's the on-the-table risks. These are a lot lower than they used to be--anesthesia in this day and age is incredibly safe. Getting to bariatric surgery is challenging for most patients, as insurance in the US will typically only work with a few centers that have wrap-around teams including the surgeons but also other specialists, especially nutritionists. So lots of patients go to Mexico. I haven't had a single one of my own patients, since I started having my own patients four years ago, get from the phase of thinking about bariatic surgery to actually having it done in the US. I've had three patients go to Mexico and have it done. I will withhold judgment, because I haven't been to those centers, I don't know what those doctors and teams are like, but I do know the overall out of pocket cost for patients is about 5 grand, which is so much cheaper than it is in the US that it doesn't bear comparison.

Just-after-surgery risks include blood clots that can go to the lungs or the heart. There is always a risk of wound infection, which can be devastating. If a prolonged hospital stay is required, pneumonia is a significant risk.

Any time you have intra-abdominal surgery, your body develops scar tissue. Places where scar tissue fuses different structures together are called adhesions. Having a re-operation after that is more risky because of those adhesions. You are also at higher risk for intestinal obstruction, because your intestines can hang up on adhesion and twist so that they cut off their own blood supply. This is a surgical emergency. When bowel dies, it becomes leaky and lets dangerous intestinal bacteria into the otherwise sterile environment of the abdomen. That higher risk of intestinal obstruction never goes away.

People who have had bariatric surgery are also at risk for dumping syndrome. This is a condition where the small intestine becomes overly stimulated immediately after a meal, because the food is not moving smoothly through the stomach into the small intestine on the natural time scale. That stimulation leads to excessive insulin release in comparison to the amount of glucose absorbed, which can means hypoglycemia, which is life-threatening.

Rapid fat loss leads to significant amounts of excess skin. Many people who've had bariatric surgery go on to have skin removal surgery. This is actually a riskier surgery than the bariatric surgery itself, because you are tampering with the barrier between the inside of your body and the world outside it. And if it's done too early, you can end up needing your skin to stretch again, and having stretch marks in addition to the scars.

After bariatric surgery, you are also worse at absorbing good nutrients. You need lifetime monitoring for vitamin levels, including vitamin B12. If you don't have enough vitamin B12, your nerves start to die. This results in pain that starts in the feet, since the neurons running from the spinal cord to the big toes are the longest and therefore most susceptible in the body.

But perhaps the most upsetting aspect of bariatic surgery to me is that it is presented as a definitive solution.

Is it?

Not for 20-25% of people who have bariatic surgery, who struggle with significant weight regain.

So if the most extreme intervention we have--literally surgically altering your gut--isn't enough to make weight loss permanent, how is anything else going to do it?

You can be skinny. For a little while. But attempts to lose large amounts of weight, including surgically, have high failure rates. The 75% success rate for bariatic surgery is significantly higher than for any other method currently widely available, but the risks are also significantly higher. I don't think it's worthwhile for most patients, especially given how many patients are lied to by their doctors about how much their weight is likely contributing to their health problems. Most of my patients focus on their weight rather than activity levels, they beat themselves up about how they're not doing intense enough exercise but don't incorporate lower-impact exercises like swimming or walking, they try to eat less rather than eating a diet more rich in vegetables and fruits and lower in highly processed foods. You can do so much for yourself without ever framing it as being about weight.

And if you've done that--if you're struggling with being so fat that you can't live your life--then sure. Talk to your doctor about a referral for bariatric surgery. But don't be shocked if the results are not what you were told to expect. Don't be surprised when you find that you actively resent the people who suddenly find you tolerable, even desirable, now that you're not so fat. Don't let them sell you bariatic surgery as a no-downside cure-all, because it most emphatically is not.

[qosbaez]

Quick || Rhea Ripley x Damian Priest

Summary: The adrenaline high is almost too much and they can’t keep their hands off each other. So what if they’re late to the press conference?

Warnings: Smut, just a lil bathroom quickie

The roar of the crowd was still echoing in their ears as Rhea Ripley and Damian Priest stormed down the corridor backstage at Bash in Berlin. The thrill of their victory over Liv Morgan and Dominik Mysterio pulsed through their veins, a heady mix of adrenaline and euphoria that had them both grinning like maniacs. The match had been intense, every move, every counter executed with precision, and now that it was over, the energy coursing through their bodies had nowhere to go.

Damian stole a glance at Rhea, his eyes darkening with something more than just the adrenaline. She was radiating power and confidence, her chest heaving as she caught her breath, a smirk still playing on her lips. There was something about seeing her like this—fresh off a victory, her muscles tense with exertion, sweat glistening on her skin—that made him want her even more.

Rhea caught the look in Damian’s eyes and felt a shiver run down her spine. She knew that look all too well. She felt it too, the pull, the magnetic attraction that had been simmering beneath the surface since they’d first stepped into the ring together. But now, it was almost unbearable. They had a press conference to get to, but the last thing on their minds was answering questions about the match. They needed each other, and they needed each other now.

Damian’s hand found Rhea’s, and without a word, they veered off the main hallway and ducked into a random bathroom. The door clicked shut behind them, and the sound of their rapid breathing filled the small, dimly lit space. Rhea was on him before the lock was even turned, her hands fisting in his braided hair as she pulled him down to her level. Their lips crashed together in a heated kiss, teeth and tongues clashing as they poured all the energy and pent-up frustration from the match into each other.

Damian’s hands roamed over Rhea’s body, feeling the strength in her arms, the curve of her waist, the muscles still taut from the match. He backed her up against the cold tile wall, and she gasped into his mouth, her fingers digging into his shoulders. They didn’t have time to be slow or gentle—not that either of them wanted that right now. This was about urgency, about feeding the fire that was burning them from the inside out.

“Press conference in ten minutes,” Rhea breathed out, but there was no real concern in her voice, just a playful challenge.

“That’s plenty of time,” Damian growled, his hands slipping down to grab her thighs. In one swift motion, he lifted her off the ground, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pressing herself against him. The feeling of being held by him, of being at his mercy, sent a rush of heat through her body.

They both fumbled with their gear, Damian’s fingers working quickly to free himself while Rhea shifted her hips to give him better access. The anticipation was killing them, but the moment he finally slid inside her, they both let out matching groans of relief and pleasure.

Damian didn’t waste any time, thrusting into her with a rough, unrelenting pace that had Rhea biting down on her lip to keep from crying out too loud. The bathroom walls weren’t exactly soundproof, and the last thing they needed was someone walking by and hearing them. But the risk only added to the excitement, the knowledge that they could be caught at any moment making everything feel even more intense.

Rhea clung to Damian, her nails digging into his back as he drove into her over and over, each thrust pushing her higher and higher. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her head falling back against the tile as she let herself get lost in the sensation. She could feel the tension building in her core, that familiar coil winding tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable.

“Damian,” she gasped, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m close.”

“I know, baby, me too,” Damian replied, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. But the way Rhea was moving against him, the way her body was tightening around him, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.

With a few more powerful thrusts, he pushed them both over the edge. Rhea came first, her body shuddering against his as she bit down on his shoulder to stifle her cry. The feeling of her climaxing around him was enough to send Damian tumbling after her, his hips jerking as he buried himself deep inside her, his release hitting him like a tidal wave.

For a few moments, they just held each other, both of them breathing heavily, their hearts pounding in sync. The high from the match, combined with the intensity of what they’d just done, left them both feeling dizzy and euphoric.

Finally, Damian eased Rhea back down to the ground, his hands lingering on her hips as they both tried to catch their breath. Rhea looked up at him with a satisfied smirk, her hair slightly mussed, her cheeks flushed. Damian leaned down and kissed her again, this time slow and lingering, a promise of what was to come later when they had more time.

“Think we can make it to the press conference without anyone noticing?” Rhea asked, still a little breathless.

“We’ll just tell them we got a little lost on the way,” Damian said with a grin, reaching down to help her adjust her gear.

Rhea laughed softly, the sound full of mischief and satisfaction. “Let’s go, then. We’ve got a victory to celebrate—and then we can finish what we started back at the hotel.”

Damian’s eyes darkened with anticipation, and he nodded. “I’m looking forward to it, babe.”

They left the bathroom, slipping back into the chaos of backstage as if nothing had happened, but the knowing looks they exchanged said it all. The adrenaline of the match might have started the fire, but they both knew it wasn’t anywhere close to being extinguished. And once the press conference was over, they had all night to let that fire burn as hot as they wanted.

[hoverboards-and-dragons]

can we possibly get more michael and adam content, analysis/art whichever YOU HAVE GOT ME INTERESTED

Adam has a thing for Michael, he thinks Michael is fondly exasperated of him and all their arguing is sexual tension and flirty. Enemies to lovers and all that, Michael is a Challenge and Adam has been in Heaven a long time.

One - just to get out of the way; Michael is both some level of sex and romance repulsed.

Two; Michael just fucking hates Adam, vehemently, here's the itemized list of reasons.

Personal:

Loud and obnoxious with little respect for Heaven's customs, especially refusing to learn anything about Heavenborns's unique ways of life.

Michael was the original leader of Heavens armies before lending the title to Gabriel, Adam abuses Authority as a commander, that's Michael's Authority and troops he's disrespecting.

Adam general tendency to sleep around with angels, Michael's creations.

Will not leave him alone.

General least impressive of the og3, Eve and Lilith making him look worse through comparison.

Michael thinking Adam is just projecting Lucifer onto him, that he'll trip over himself to earn the favour of a first human 'like he did' either as the backup choice or for him to prove he can score just like Lilith did.

Constant off handed demeaning remarks. Insisting that its not gay since angels aren't gendered (despite Michael clarifying that most aren't but he very much is) it's not cheating if it's just 'you little God things' and other implications that Michael's 'kind' simply doesn't count.

Related, Adam's focus on his early role in creation and child of God status as if it makes him the most important person in every room while never acknowledging the same for the archangels, again as if you only count if you're human.

Impersonal projections:

Michael blames humanity in general for 'taking his brother from him', it would be worse for the first man himself.

Winners are the most difficult sector of Heaven for him to manage.

The archangels are pettily defensive over their Father, its why even the most serious and professional among them still call Him 'Dad,' He's more their Father than anyone else's. They were raised by Him, they'll never stray from His side.

Disliking Adam makes Michael feel like he's questioning his Father's choices.

His general superiority complex to 'the plight of man.'

AAAANNnnnnndddddd the big one. He is physically incapable of processing any of these emotions.

Angels cannot possess negative thoughts towards something beloved by the Lord, personal distaste yes, but not genuine contempt. As servants and messengers, Michael’s devotion to his Father binds him to serve Adam by extension, and protects Adam from malicious intentions.

This leaves those feelings float around untethered, compounding in on itself, and causing problems like mould spores in their chest.

He had to just, tolerate him, with all of this, for ten thousand years.

and Michael is bound by a few extra Commands around Adam because he would have just killed him otherwise. And everytime Adam is being annoying Michael mind strains against itself to express or solidify his hatred in anyway And He Can't.

And then he can.

the thrilling sequel to Michael going apeshit and hacking both of Adam's wings off the second he was broken free from the commandment to not cause Adam harm.

Also listing out everything wrong with him rapid fire, mocking him for his unearned title of first man when Michael is older than him, that he only got into heaven because he had a use not because he deserved to be or anyone wanted him and any other insecurity he could grab off the top of his head.

Losing restrictions suddenly can make angels weird sometimes, pulling at a leash so hard that when it breaks you go flying back.

[linkito]

scarian 34 maybe.. but theyre in love..

#34 …to pretend.

Scar’s honestly not sure what Scott is on about with his whole Relationship Ranch thing. He’s not as obtuse as Grian is about it, pretending like their relationship isn’t mangled and strained, like the idea of couple’s therapy is entirely unfounded for the two of them, but— the goats? Really? Even at their worst, he and Grian aren’t stupid enough to get hit by a goat.

Even at their worst, they’re still a team. None of these trust-building activities are of any use to them.

The only reason Scar is going along with it at all is because of Scott. Scott who might know the most about the ins and outs of his and Grian’s complex relationship throughout these life games. But he’s beginning to have his doubts. Scott seems distracted.

Grian seems to have the same idea, because this time he calls Scott out when he pulls out his communicator for about the dozenth time. “Who do you keep talking to?”

Scar instantly dogpiles onto the accusations. “Are we not important enough for your undivided attention, doc?”

“No, you’re very important!” Scott protests, stuffing his communicator away. Scar narrows his eyes in tandem with Grian.

“Maybe he realizes we don't need this after all, G,” Scar says with a shake of his head, eyes flicking upward to watch for Scott’s reaction. As expected, Scott twitches nervously and immediately begins to wave his hands in placating disagreement.

But Grian speaks before Scott can. “Yeah, we’ve passed all your little tests, so what are you on about anyway?” With a disgruntled huff, Grian slots in beside Scar and crosses his arms, looking Scott up and down with the same level of scrutiny. “Scar and I are fine.”

It almost feels true when Grian is leaning into Scar’s space like this, taking his side like they have a common enemy, playing up the charade as much as Scar is to push at someone else’s buttons. On that rare occasion they’re on the same page, things do actually seem fine.

That’s possibly the worst part of it all— the almost fine.

Scott takes a moment to compose himself, now on the defensive as he speaks slowly and calmly. Unfortunately for him, however, he chooses the wrong words:

“But back in the desert—“

Both of their faces sour instantly, for different reasons perhaps, but they can both agree on one thing: that those words do not belong on Scott’s tongue.

Grian is partway through muttering a bitter “that’s none of your business,” when Scar chimes in with a theatrical twirl of his hands and solemn shake of his head, stepping forward so Grian is behind him and doesn’t have to address the unfinished accusation.

“Oh, Scott, come on now,” Scar says with a twinkle in his eye, slipping on the mask of a man not-scorned in order to pry himself from this situation. “That was then and this is now! People change! Relationships change! That isn’t always a bad thing, is it?”

Scott blinks, trying to keep up with Scar’s rapid-fire string of almost nonsense. “Uh.”

“Exactly!” Scar says, as if it were an agreement. He turns to face Grian, but keeps his feet pointed toward Scott, ever the actor, never fully turning his back to his audience. “But we’re perfectly happy, aren’t we now, Grian?”

Scar loops an arm around Grian’s back, tugging him closer and lowering his face so it’s level with his soulmate’s, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

His words pose a challenge, one Grian is intimately familiar. Scar rests his hand just beneath the base of Grian’s wings, where he used to hold onto when they embraced, when he would scoop Grian up into his arms and kiss him senseless while the scorching sun beat down on their necks. There’s that same level of firmness Grian had grown accustomed to paired with the gentle graze of fingers over his cheek from Scar’s other hand— that strong sense of security combined with unparalleled tenderness.

Grian doesn’t even realize he’s parted his lips, leaning forward in dizzying anticipation, acting on instinct alone, leaving all his senseless doubts behind as Scar slowly leans in closer, lips only a breath apart.

Scar’s hand trails over Grian’s cheek, ghosting over his jaw, then settling perfectly in place to hide both their lips from Scott’s prying eyes.

And then Scar smiles, and something about it is askew, something Grian can’t quite place— it’s too crooked, almost self-satisfied, almost—

And just like that, Scar pulls away.

“See?” Scar says, eyes flicking over to Scott, who, according to Grian’s short-circuiting brain, no longer existed at all. “Perfectly happy.”

It takes Grian far too long to realize those words were directed at someone else, or that there was not, in fact, sand at his feet and hot air brushing through his feathers. Scar is still speaking, and none of it is directed at him, because they aren’t alone atop a mountain of sand, in their own private corner of the world. They’re in a new game entirely, one where things are far too similar, yet not the same at all.

One where he definitely didn’t expect Scar to kiss him for real.

One where he definitely wouldn’t have let him.

“Grian,” Scar calls, snapping him out of his dazed state, and Grian hopes to god he doesn’t look too desperate when he glances up at him. “I’m pretty sure the rest of the server is tearing up our base looking for sugar cane.”

“They’re what??”