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total-dxmure · 5 months

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✦ INVISIBLE STRING THEORY →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER TWO

pairings: modern!marine ellie x reader

summary: the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

warnings: eventual smut! lots of tension building and mutual pining. ellie falls first and hard. small town girl meets a frightening, strong ex marine. TW: talk of panic attacks, ptsd episodes and death. come for the ellie smut and stay for the plot and fluff. (A/N: this chapter is just plot/character building. next chapter we're getting to the good stuff)

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

The old farm truck rocked back and forth as you made your way up the all-too familiar dirt path, heading in the direction of the greenhouses. You’d already let the hens out to graze and feed and the last thing you had to do before dropping today’s produce off was check on the nurseries.

Johnny Cash’s southern twang hummed gently over the speakers, your well worn-in cassette tape having been the first thing you reached for this morning. The sun had risen just a few hours ago, and after a few cups of much needed coffee you were ready to go.

The caffeine had done the lord's work, having cleared your brain of any anxious background noise. You could actually function when you had tasks at hand. The second you slowed down though… well, that was a different story. You were trying hard not to imagine Abby sitting beside you in the beat-to-hell red pickup, her blonde braid tossed over her shoulder as she stuck her arm out of the window. You used to joke about her being part dog, what with her loving the wind on her face so much. You missed being able to reach out and wrap a stray strand of blonde hair around your finger, only giving it a soft tug when those blue eyes of hers looked at you with a little too much heat behind them.

So instead of looking at the empty passenger seat you busied yourself with turning up the volume, country music crackling over the shot, old speakers. You all but jumped out of the car the second you put the car in park, ready to get your hands dirty and your mind preoccupied.

You couldn’t remember how many times the two of you had snuck off to the greenhouse when your mother had gotten a little too overbearing back when she still lived in the main house with you. There wasn’t a single surface in the old rickety building that abby hadn’t fucked you on or vice versa.

You walked along the rows and rows of seedlings, looking for any sign of water rot or bug infestations. Everything was perfect, every stem and leaf a vibrant green. Tomatoes, all different kinds of summer squash, and beans of every variety; you had the gift of a green thumb. Your father was more than happy to sign his company over to you right before he passed. All five acres of his property belonged to you now, and with that every bit of responsibility had been placed upon your shoulders. You used to resent the fact that you were so young and in charge of so much. Now you were thankful for the constant work. Distractions. You hated seeing your dad’s life work being summed up as a mere distraction, but it was the only thing that got you out of bed in the morning.

Everyone in the family knew that your dad had wanted a boy when your mother’s pregnancy was first announced. It was a family business, the job having been passed down to him by his own father. Still, he had been ecstatic to show you the ropes. Rather than taking up dance or art like most other little girls your age, you spent your free time elbow deep in mud. You wore the bows and fussed over getting new outfits, but overalls were your daily uniform.

You wore a pair even today, your work boots tightly fastened to ward away any unwanted pecks from overprotective mother hens. Today was bound to be monotonous, as it always was. All you had to do was repot a few strawberry plants. Maybe if you were lucky a goat would find a hole in the gate and escape. At least it would give you something to worry about that wasn’t Abby related.

You slunk over towards the sinks, pumping soap into your dirt covered palm to wash off the dirt. You rubbed your hands together to begin lathering but froze when you realized your right hand felt bare. You brushed your thumb against your middle finger only to realize that it was just as you had feared.

Your ring. It wasn’t there.

White hot dread locked your limbs as you turned your hand over, the dainty opal missing from your middle finger. You blinked, hoping that you were just seeing things. You didn’t even turn off the sinks before racing back over to the repotting table, as if the promise ring had grown legs and would escape you. Your eyes frantically searched the table, pain shooting through your knees as you dropped down on all fours, pushing dirt and leaves aside to get a better vantage point. Nothing. It wasn’t there.

“Oh god. No! No, no, no.” You all but screamed, eyes filling with tears as you pulled yourself off.

You broke out into a nervous sweat, the blood rushing from your head. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening right now.

You didn’t care if you killed the plants, you ripped the strawberries up by their stems, shaking their roots out as you searched their new pots.

Every. Single. One.

Empty.

Abby had given you that ring just before her last deployment, promising that she would be giving you the real thing once she got back. Of course, she never did. It was single handedly the most important piece of jewelry that you had ever owned, even above your grandmother’s pearls and engagement ring. How could you be so reckless? Why hadn’t you thought to leave it in the car?

“Stupid! I’m so fucking stupid!” You screamed, tossing a clay pot on the ground in a fit of anger. It shattered behind you, exploding into a thousand tiny pieces.

You spent an hour sifting through dirt and untangling roots before you finally realized that it was a lost cause. The ring was gone. You’d wrecked the entire greenhouse in your frantic search and the strawberries were just as you expected: dead.

You slammed the door shut behind you, the old window panes shaking with the force. You had barely thrown yourself into the pickup before your body was wracked with full body sobs. White knuckling the steering wheel you leaned your head forward, completely unbothered as the horn blared.

How could you lose something so precious to you? It had been the last gift that you had ever received from Abby. The last. There was no possible way to replace something that was that special to you. Her hands had touched that ring. She’d been nervous to give it to you in the first place, anxious that two years hadn’t been enough time to give you something that sentimental. It was the meaning behind it that had you clutching at your chest, your fingernails digging into your shirt as if you could rip your heart straight out from between your ribs.

She was going to replace that ring once she got back. Give you the “real deal” once she was back home and able to have a ceremony.

But there would never be a ceremony. Never another ring. Never another Abby.

Never. Never. Never.

It felt like you were losing a piece of her, and with that came the revelation- the same one that you’ve already had a thousand times- that she was really gone. There would be no do-overs; no alternate universes where the two of you could be together. The reality of your situation sat heavy in your throat, clogging your airway.

The loss of Abby had eclipsed your heart completely, and darkness was all that was left.

You stayed in the car until your eyes had practically swelled shut and there were no more tears to shed.

The car ride back to her childhood home was completely silent, the only sound being the engine of Joel’s shiny new truck. She did her best to compliment him on the new purchase, but Ellie was sure that she didn’t sound even half as enthusiastic as she had hoped she would. She didn’t feel like being an actress today. Not when he already knew how bad she was doing. Joel had taken one look at her as she got off of the plane and frowned, grabbing her bags only after giving her a bone shattering side hug.

“Well I missed ya,” He finally spoke, causing her to jump in surprise. The sound of his baritone voice soothed her nerves over though. “I’ve really missed you annoyin’ the hell outta me at all hours of the day.”

Ellie cracked a small smile at that, leaning her head into the plush leather seat. The last time she saw Joel was when she had first been transferred to the Kindred Hospital back in Chicago, which was where she had rotted away for a full week. Her eye and face healed up quickly but her back was a different story. She’d been burned badly and had all of the nasty scars to prove it. He had stayed by her bedside for the entire week and had helped her to readjust to being back home in her apartment. The nearly debilitating pain was the only thing that had distracted her from the gravity of her situation back then.

Her therapist said it was normal to disassociate for long periods of time when the body and mind are put under so much stress. Ellie still felt like Ellie back then, but it was only because she didn’t have any real grasp on reality. It was just a few days after Joel left that she finally snapped out of it. She was one of the only five that survived. She was told that landmines were the cause of so many deaths in Iraq.

“It happens all the time out there. You didn’t know. It’s not your fault.”

She didn’t want her unit to just be another statistic. They weren’t just numbers. They were people who had loved ones at home. Loved ones that they had to leave for months and months on end. She couldn’t help but shoulder all of the blame. Ellie was the one that had led them out there in the first place. It was her fault, so why hadn’t she died right along with them? She would have considered herself lucky if she had lost her life right along with them. These were the people that she saw daily. Ellie had developed deep friendships with every member of her unit. She knew the details of all of their lives- the names of their children and loved ones back at home, what they wanted to do with their lives once they were dismissed- how could she not feel like someone had ripped her soul to shreds? How could she not constantly remind herself, every second of every goddamn day, that she was the reason.

She was a ghost. A mere shell of the person that she once was and she had no one to blame but herself.

“I didn’t know you liked me being annoying so much,” Still, she turned to Joel and cracked him a small smile. It was more for his sake and less for hers though. “I’ll make sure to turn it up a notch while I’m here.”

The older man grumbled, shaking his head slightly as he kept his eyes on the country roads in front of him. “That sounds like a threat.”

Ellie could tell that he was playing with her. They were professionals when it came to teasing each other, often to the point that people thought that they were seriously bickering. The short haired female let herself settle into the normalcy of the moment. He hadn’t mentioned anything about the accident or her mental state yet, so it was easy to pretend that things were still…okay.

So that’s exactly what she did. She began to pretend. Ellie allowed herself to be transported back in time. This was just another Tuesday. She’d get back home and sweet talk Joel into cooking her an after school snack. Then she’d go up to her room and procrastinate doing her homework so that she could reread one of her comics.

“Got anything good in here?” Ellie asked before opening up the center console. “I’m not gonna find anything nasty, am I?”

Joel’s lips pursed as he tried to fight off a smile. “Don’t go rifflin’ through my shit, kiddo.”

Her eyes snagged on a familiar purple book, and for the first time in a while something yawned to life in her chest. Joy.

“What do we have here?” She pulled out the book of puns, using it to fan herself before she cracked the bad boy open.

“Ah, don’t start.” He groaned.

She didn’t take the time to wonder why he had put the well loved book in his brand new truck. Instead of allowing herself to be overcome with endearment she flipped to a random page, her lips turning up in the first genuine smile she’d had in months.

“Where can you find a tiny coke?” She asked him, turning in her seat so that she could face him, tucking one of her converse-clad feet underneath her.

“Hey! Get your dirty shoes off of my new upholstery!” Joel reached over and gave her knee a slap.

Ellie reared back, holding the book of puns tight to her chest.

“Come on, try and guess.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes as he leaned his arm against the door.

“I don’t know… tiny town.”

Her nose wrinkled, an eyebrow quirking up at his half assed answer.

“Shitty guess, but alright.” She mumbled under her breath. “Mini-soda.”

“Hilarious.” He said sarcastically, turning onto the familiar drive.

“I think I saw you smile though.”She leaned over to give his cheek a poke, but he swiftly batted her hand away.

The truck’s all-terrain tires crunched over the gravel driveway, revealing the only real home she’d ever lived in. The house and yard looked exactly the same as it had whenever she was a teenager. She sighed out a breath of relief, not knowing how much well she would have handled any sort of severe change. Ellie opened the passenger side door before Joel had a chance to put the car in park, eager to settle in after the flight. She wanted to shower, and that surprised her a bit. A welcome surprise.

Maybe things would be better for her here.

“You didn’t turn my old room into some perverted sex dungeon while I was gone, did you?” She teased as she grabbed her tan duffel bag, easily tossing it over her shoulder as she bounded up the stairs.

He laughed as a response, following close behind her so that he could unlock the front door. She didn’t know why he even bothered. He lived in the middle of nowhere, and they rarely got visitors.

“I’ve got some guitars in there that are worth a fortune.” He’d told her the last time she’d asked.

It had been one of the few times that Ellie had snuck out of the house after curfew. She’d been unable to haul herself back into her second story window once she’d gotten back home and had been forced to sleep in the beat up old hatchback that he had bought her for her sixteenth birthday. Breakfast that morning had been… tense, to say the least.

“I didn’t touch your room… but I did get a dog, so make sure not to let her out.”

She paused at that, turning to look at him with wide eyes. There had been a strict “no animals” rule back when she lived with him. She never thought she’d see the day where Joel Miller would adopt a pet, let alone a dog.

“You got a dog?” She was still in disbelief and half expected him to fucking with her.

“Buckley is a good boy. He shits on the floor sometimes and barks all hours of morning though. It’s almost like having you home.” He teased, bumping his shoulder against hers so that he could shove his key into the lock.

The deadbolt clicked open, and low and behold there was a dog. He looked like some sort of lab mix, his pink tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth as he anxiously waited for his owner’s return. Ellie was too excited to come up with a witty response to Joel’s joke. She tossed her duffle down on the couch, quickly getting down on her knees so that she could pet the dog.

“He’s not much of a guard dog, is he?” He asked, closing the door behind him.

The second that Ellie’s hand tangled into his thick black fur he flopped down, eager for love. Ellie smirked, looking at Joel over her shoulder.

“I don’t know. He looks pretty ferocious to me.”

The sudden knock on the door had Ellie’s lips downturning, eyebrows pinching in confusion. She didn’t like the idea of company right now, and the last thing she wanted was to socialize with anyone. For a second she feared that he had called a doctor or therapist to come out to the house to see her. She wasn’t sure if she could take another “come to Jesus” meeting this week, and she was barely holding it together as is. Ellie put her hands on her knees, pushing herself up to stand before she nodded at the door.

“Company?” She simply asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

Joel ignored her obvious distaste, wrenching the door open quickly before she could stop him. It sure as hell wasn’t Tommy. . . and Ellie doubted that most doctors wore overalls, even in Jackson. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, the golden rays shone through the vast expanse of trees on the property, making it almost look like the world was on fire. The warm glow behind the beautiful stranger made her look ethereal almost, her eyes watery and cheeks flushed. At her feet was a cardboard box packed to the brim with fruits and vegetables. All at once Ellie became startlingly aware of the fact that she looked like absolute hammered shit. Her hair was a frizzy mess, her skin was paler than it had ever been before, and she was wearing an old NASA shirt and dingy sweatpants. If she noticed her disheveled appearance she didn’t show it.

The smile that she beamed in Joel’s direction didn’t quite reach her eyes, and a strange sense of understanding flickered in Ellie’s gaze as she took a few inquisitive steps forward. Ellie Williams knew what suffering was like; true suffering. Looking at her was like looking in a mirror, her well hidden misery plain as day to the auburn haired female.

“Sorry I’m so late, Mr Miller. My truck was giving me problems.” Her voice was beautiful. Melodic in a way that Ellie’s wasn’t.

Spring. . . this girl was spring incarnate.

And she was lying through her teeth.

She’d been crying. Ellie could tell. Still, Joel was already peeking his head out of the door, looking in the direction of where she had parked.

“I could take a look at it for you.” He was being dismissed with a small wave of your hand before he could even get the words fully out.

“That’s so nice of you, but I’ve got it cranking up again. It shouldn’t give me any more trouble today.” Her hair fell off of her shoulder as she leaned down to pick up the box.

Ellie moved forward without thinking, picking up the heavy box for the girl before her fingers could even grip the sides of the cardboard. “Here, let me get it.” She said, craning her neck up so that she could speak directly to the woman.

There wasn’t a single thing about you that Ellie found undesirable. In that moment she was completely certain that you were the most beautiful woman she had ever seen, even with the pain and memory that swirled behind your bright eyes. Their eyes locked, and much to Ellie’s embarrassment, she held her gaze. She watched her with the same sort of silent appreciation.

“-I think it would be good for her. What do you say?” Ellie hadn’t noticed that Joel had been talking the entire time.

The woman blinked a few times, tearing her eyes away from Ellie. “Huh? I’m sorry, do you mind repeating that?” She was nervously tucking a few strands of unruly hair behind her ear, shifting in place on the front porch.

“I was just saying that Ellie is going to be staying out here with me. I think working with you on the farm would be good for her. It would help her to get out of the house, and I know you’ve been pretty busy since it’s just you running things now.” Joel put a hand on Ellie’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Supportive. Non-judgemental. He was reminding her what would be good for her mental state right now, and having something to do with her hands would certainly help to take her mind off of things.

“O-Oh!” The girl’s lips parted in shock, her eyes flickering between the two of them. “Yeah, I don’t see why not. I get a pretty early start though, so don’t feel obligated to wake up as early as I do.”

“I’ll wake up.” Ellie said quickly, nodding her head.

Her words held a tone of desperation and it had Joel’s head whipping around in her direction. He probably wasn’t expecting her to be so supportive of his last minute idea. She couldn’t be sure if it was because she genuinely wanted to get her mind off of things or if the farm girl’s looks had anything to do with her enthusiasm. Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt drawn to someone like this. Relationships were the last thing on her mind these days.

“Can you start tomorrow?” The other girl asked, shoving her hands into her front pockets.

Adorable. She was adorable. Ellie felt her breath hitch and all she could do was nod as an answer for your question.

“Alright. . . “She began to trail off, backing up a few steps on the porch. It seemed like you were in a bit of a hurry. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow.” Ellie repeated back to her.

She leaned back, lifting the box higher up on her chest so that she could watch the woman get back into her mud stained pickup truck. She only took a step back when Joel started to close the door on her.

“So you’re actually fine with that? I didn’t think you would go for it, honestly.” Joel rubbed at his stubbled chin, flashing her a small smile of approval.

“There’s no way I want to be stuck in a house with your ass all hours of the day.” Ellie quipped, walking to the kitchen so that she could place the vegetables on the countertop.

“I think workin’ there would be good for the both of you. That poor girl has had an awful year. . . I think you’d be good for each other. She needs a friend.” Joel’s voice was somber as he followed her into the kitchen.

Ellie turned to face the older man, swallowing hard as he leaned against the doorway. He was being a bit cryptic. It seemed like he didn’t want to be the one to tell Ellie the girl’s business. Still, she was curious, and she didn’t want to be blind sided tomorrow just in case she wanted to talk about it. Ellie wasn’t usually nosey, but she had a strong urge to get to know her.

“What do you mean by that?” Ellie’s first guess was that she had to be going through some sort of divorce. Joel had mentioned the fact that she was on her own now, so coming to that conclusion was natural.

“No, nothin’ like that,” He cleared his throat before pushing off of the door frame, slowly beginning to unload the box's contents. “She lost her girlfriend and her father this year. She’s the kindest girl. . . you’d never know how much she’s sufferin’ based on how she acts.”

“Oh.” Ellie frowned, having realized that your mourning must be the reason for your sad, sad eyes. She understood how it felt to lose so many people so close together. Better than anyone, really.

“Oh.”

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reasonsforhope · 17 days

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"Dear EarthTalk: What is wind repowering and why are environmentalists so bullish on it?

—H. King, Mesa, AZ

One of the most common forms of clean energy is wind power. People from around the world could recognize a wind farm from just one look. While wind power has been a staple in renewable energy since the idea’s inception, many of the original and old wind turbines have begun to show signs of aging. Wind repowering aims to fix this, by revamping old turbines with more efficient components, or putting in new, state-of-the-art turbines as a whole. These new components and units can reduce noise, more efficiently power a turbine, and a deliver a higher overall energy output.

Denmark, an early adopter of wind repowering, saw a 1.3 GW gain in capacity and a reduction of 109 wind turbines, enabling substantially increased wind energy production with fewer turbines. This promising data prompted a surge in wind repowering projects, and in 2019, 86 percent of wind energy projects there were classified as “repowered.”

These signs of success and scalability showed other countries the benefits of wind repowering. The U.S, with help from large energy corporations like General Electric, has more than 40 active wind repowering sites, with over 2,500 turbines having some type of renovation. This hefty wind repowering advancement is responsible for four gigawatts of energy, or the power for more than 30 million homes.

It’s no secret how fast wind repowering is growing, but upgrades can be made to many different types of renewable energy. Why do eco-advocates support wind repowering so strongly? Wind repowering has energy, financial, aesthetic and technological benefits. Not only does it make units more efficient, it also removes units that might be aesthetically unpleasing, or in less efficient spots than they could be. Wind repowering also increases the lifespan of turbines by as much as 20 years, and reduces the need for maintenance. Repowered turbines are also quieter, sleeker, and produce considerably more energy.

So, while there are many types of repowering efforts for other renewable energy sources, none are as comprehensive or successful as wind repowering. Not only is it a comprehensive option for revamping clean energy, but it does not require the entry costs that just building new wind farms requires.

The only barrier to wind repowering at the moment is legislation. Bills and policies cannot keep up with the demand for it. Readers should call local officials, or urge any nearby wind farms to look at wind repowering. Spreading awareness is the first and most important step."

-via E: The Environmental Magazine, April 26, 2024

#wind power #renewables #renewable energy #renewable electricity #clean energy #denmark #united states #wind turbines #wind farm #reuse #good news #hope #environment #environmental news

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magicalmanhattanproject · 8 months

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for those who missed what tubbo is building the giant hole for, it's a perimeter. they're a staple of technical minecraft.

basically, when you build a mob farm, to get the best drop rates possible, you don't want mobs to spawn in areas that aren't your farm. there are generally two ways

on the one hand, you can spend enormous amounts of time and effort tracking down and lighting up every single cave in the area around your farm. this is super tedious and labor intensive and hard to be thorough with unless you use spectator mode, which a lot of players feel is cheaty for this sort of thing.

on the other hand, you can build a perimeter. you don't have to light up your caves if there aren't any caves left for you to light up. they are absolutely gargantuan projects. the smallest that a perimeter can be for it to be effective is 16x16 chunks or 256x256 blocks, which i think is the size tubbo is building it at. they take a lot of work on the front end, but once they're done, they're done. you're left with an area where no mobs can spawn anywhere you don't want them to, which is incredibly useful for farming

tubbo has also mentioned possibly using them as a mob switch, which is when you spawn so many mobs in one area of a server that you use up the entire mob cap and no mobs can spawn anywhere else. pierre mentioned that's unlikely to work on qsmp due to the mods, but it would sure be interesting if it could work

either way, i've seen some people upset about tubbo making a big ugly hole for no reason so i thought i would just explain some of the reasons behind it. also, there's no reason it can't be decorated. in fact, covering the floor with pretty patterns in nonspawnable blocks like carpets or colored glass is a common technique to just make it nicer to look at along with making sure it's fully spawnproofed.

#sorrelposting #qsmp

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heartfullofleeches · 5 months

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Hello pardon me just passing through but I just imagined Peach and BlackBerry arguing while reader is watching all stressed out and the normal milk character just whisks them away promising comfort

Tfw when you're just a cute little farmer trying to get your neighbors with fat crushes on you to get along, but the only thing they have on common besides their obsession with you is that they'd kill each other as soon as you turn your back- [I have so many pretty cow ladies oml]

"What are you doing here?

"I could ask you the same thing."

This wasn't going well. You hoped they'd at least make out it to the field before they started picking fights. Both were well aware that the other would be here - you told them so in the invitation. They most likely overlooked that tidbit in favor of spending time with you. If only their mutual interest in you led to a more positive connection.

Peach scoffs. "I'm here because my babe asked me to help them out. You think I'd be out here in these shoes for any other reason? I'm more ssurprised to see you out of your coffin so early in the day."

"Like you won't be gone the second you get a little dirt under your nails. You're so clingy can't you just let them have a single moment with someone else without you hovering over them?"

"Nope. If I did that - you might actually think you have a chance with them."

What could've possibly made this seem like a good idea? You thought you'd be killing two birds with one stone by inviting them out to the farm - seeking to help qwell their rivalry by asking them to help you with your last bit of chores. You requested their assistance with picking crops as it was one of few tasks Peach would do without complaining and the harvest would make for a well deserved reward for their efforts. It was a perfect plan in theory. Execution was another story.....

Good thing you invited others to join you.

"Farmer!"

A pair of strong arms pluck you off your feet and against the chest of the bull woman who's heart pounded loudly in her chest from her race from her truck to you. Oil rubs off on your shirt and sticks to your skin as she presses you tightly to her - tail smacking your tight as another, quieter pair of footsteps approach from the direction she came. A gloved hand taps her shoulder - gentle eyes gazing over her shoulder at you with fondness.

"Good afternoon, Farmer. We would have came sooner, but this one refused to shower before leaving her shop. I had to take her keys just to get her into the bathroom, and yet she's still a mess. At least the chance of a grease fire has been reduced.

"Ah, I keep tellin' ya it's a waste of time. We could've spent the whole morning with them if you hadn't forced me to wash up.

An unlikely pair these two made - a prim and proper maid, and the grease junkie king of the local junkyard. Ginger lived for creating messes, and Milk enjoyed cleaning them up. Their union was uncommon, but they could safety call one another allies especially when it came to you.

"Ginger! Milk! I'm so glad you guys could make it, thank you so much for coming."

"It's our pleasure..." Milk looks past you, pointing at the two still bickering at your doorstep. "Will those two be joining us?"

You glance back at Peach and Blackberry.

"You must think you're sooo perfect. Won't have that pretty face to hide behind when I skin it off you."

"Was that a threat? Are you threatening me? So you know how many chances I've had to get rid of you? You're lucky I even let you step foot on their property."

"You're lucky I let you breathe the same air as us."

You quickly turn away as Peach screams in frustration"I don't think so...."

Ginger chuckles - her hands falling to your waist and locking on. "More for us then. Let's get this show on the road."

"Wha- Hey!" Laughter bursts from your chest as Ginger scoops you up and throws you onto her shoulder - wrapping her thick arms around your legs to keep you in place. Milk picks up the basket you brought out with you and follows behind the two of you as Ginger matches towards the field. The maid places her hand on your back to keep you stable as the mechanic pumps her fist in the air in celebration. Your smiling face as you're carried off is captured by the two left alone on your porch who briefly paused their argument to gain your input on the issue at hand. They look at each other, then Ginger's truck.

"...... Twelve o'clock. I'll slash the tires if you break the windows."

"Deal."

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #female yandere #yandere insert #yandere oc #yandere blurb #yandere scenarios #yandere hybrid #Milk farm tag #yandere harem #Farmer reader

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centrally-unplanned · 8 months

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Gonna make this a quick one since I just don’t have the spoons for a really big effort post: Pre-CCP 20th Century China Did Not Have Feudal or Slave-like Land Tenancy Systems

Obviously what counts as “slave-like” is going to be subjective, but I think it's common, for *ahem* reasons, for people to believe that in the 1930’s Chinese agriculture was dominated by massive-scale, absentee landlords who held the large majority of peasant workers in a virtual chokehold and dictated all terms of labor.

That is not how Chinese land ownership & agricultural systems worked. I am going to pull from Chinese Agriculture in the 1930s: Investigations into John Lossing Buck’s Rediscovered ‘Land Utilization in China’ Microdata, which is some of the best ground-level data you can get on how land use functioned, in practice, in China during the "Nanjing Decade" before WW2 ruins all data collection. It looks at a series of north-central provinces, which gives you the money table of this:

On average, 4/5ths of Chinese peasants owned land, and primarily farmed land that they owned. Tenancy was, by huge margins, the minority practice. I really don’t need to say more than this, but I'm going to because there is a deeper point I want to make. And it's fair to say that while this is representative of Northern China, Southern China did have higher tenancy rates - not crazy higher, but higher.

So let's look at those part-owner farmers; sounds bad right? Like they own part of their land, but it's not enough? Well, sometimes, but sometimes not:

A huge class (about ~1/3rd) of those part-owners were farming too much land, not too little; they were enterprising households renting land to expand their businesses. They would often engage in diversified production, like cash crops on the rented land and staple crops on their owned land. Many of them would actually leave some of their owned land fallow, because it wasn’t worth the time to farm!

Meanwhile the small part-owners and the landless tenant farmers would rent out land to earn a living…sometimes. Because that wasn’t the only way to make a living - trades existed. From our data, if you are a small part-owner, you got a substantial chunk of your income from non-farm labor; if you owned no land you got the majority of your income from non-farm labor:

(Notice how that includes child labor by default, welcome to pre-modernism!)

So the amount of people actually doing full-tenancy agriculture for a living is…pretty small, less than 10% for sure. But what did it look like for those who do? The tenancy rates can be pretty steep - 50/50 splits were very common. But that is deceiving actually; this would be called “share rent”, but other systems, such as cash rents, bulk crop rents, long-term leases with combined payment structures, etc, also existed and were plentiful - and most of those had lower rent rates. However, share rent did two things; one, it hedged against risk; in the case of a crop failure you weren't out anything as the tenant, a form of insurance. And two, it implied reciprocal obligations - the land owner was providing the seed, normally the tools as well, and other inputs like fertilizer.

Whether someone chose one type of tenancy agreement or the other was based on balancing their own labor availability, other wage opportunities, the type of crop being grown, and so on. From the data we have, negotiations were common around these types of agreements; a lot of land that was share rent one year would be cash rent another, because the tenants and market conditions shifted to encourage one or the other form.

I’m doing a little trick here, by throwing all these things at you. Remember the point at the top? “Was this system like slavery?” What defines slavery? To me, its a lack of options - that is the bedrock of a slave system. Labor that you are compelled by law to do, with no claim on the output of that work. And as I hit you with eight tiers of land ownership and tenancy agreements and multi-source household incomes, as you see that the median person renting out land to a tenant farmer was himself a farmer as a profession and by no means some noble in the city, what I hope becomes apparent is that the Chinese agricultural system was a fully liquid market based on choice and expected returns. By no means am I saying that it was a nice way to live; it was an awful way to live. But nowhere in this system was state coercion the bedrock of the labor system. China’s agricultural system was in fact one of the most free, commercial, and contract-based systems on the planet in the pre-modern era, that was a big source of why China as a society was so wealthy. It was a massive, moving market of opportunities for wages, loans, land ownership, tenancy agreements, haggled contracts, everyone trying in their own way to make the living that they could.

It's a system that left many poor, and to be clear injustices, robberies, corruption, oh for sure were legion. Particularly during the Warlord Era mass armies might just sweep in and confiscate all your hard currency and fresh crops. But, even ignoring that the whole ‘poverty’ thing is 90% tech level and there was no amount of redistribution that was going to improve that very much, what is more important is that the pre-modern world was *not* equally bad in all places. The American South was also pretty poor, but richer than China in the 19th century. And being a slave in the American South was WAY worse than being a peasant in China during times of peace - because Confederate society built systems to remove choice, to short-circuit the ebb and flow of the open system to enshrine their elite ‘permanently’ at the top. If you lived in feudal Russia it was a good deal worse, with huge amounts of your yearly labor compelled by the state onto estates held by those who owned them unimpeachably by virtue of their birthright (though you were a good deal richer just due to basic agriculture productivity & population density, bit of a tradeoff there).

If you simply throw around the word “slavery” to describe every pre-modern agricultural system because it was poor and shitty, that back-doors a massive amount of apologia for past social systems that were actively worse than the benchmarks of the time. Which is something the CCP did; their diagnosis of China’s problem for the rural poor of needing massive land redistribution was wrong! It was just wrong, it was not the issue they were having. It was not why rural China was often poor and miserable. It could help, sure, I myself would support some compensated land redistribution in the post-war era as a welfare idea for a fiscally-strapped state. But that was gonna do 1% of the heavy lifting here in making the rural poor's lives better. And I don’t think we should continue to the job of spreading the CCP's propaganda for them.

There ya go @chiefaccelerator, who alas I was not permitted to compel via state force into writing this for me, you Qing Dynasty lazy peasant.

#Chinese history discourse blog #essay

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ark-fork · 1 month

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💌Love letters; 👨‍🌾content farm

Recently, a situation happened to my blogger friend that really pissed me off. It took me some time to put my thoughts in order and think about what I wanted to convey in this "podcast".

(Yes, this column is back because you, beloved and dear anons and not only, are constantly doing something crazy)

To begin with, let's start with something less complicated and scary but just unpleasant.

🔴Declarations of love to bloggers \ flirting with them.

Okay, I think this already sounds crazy, for the simple reason that you confess your love to a media personality in their inbox.

To begin with, this is not just strange - but also rude to some extent because a blogger does not always want such attention to themself. Many of them already have their soulmate in life, which is why most declarations of love or flirting are considered ignorance and an unpleasant event.

But still, the prevailing part of them may simply not be looking for a relationship here. Therefore, the best solution would be NOT to TRY to impose your feelings on them and not talk about it.

(Considering that some of you actually write something like: "Haha, I'm obviously going to regret this decision later, but I'll do it anyway because I want to").

If you like this blogger and personality, keep your flirting and declarations of love to yourself. You will spoil your relationship with them in this way. It's stupid and embarrassing for both of you if you still admit your feelings to him. Damn it, there may be a hundred, a hundred, or more of you who want to confess to them!

Ahem, I hope the general point can be grasped because I'm not so good at talking about anything and simply expressing my feelings about the situation as a whole and, for the most part, being hot on the head.

🟠Accusing someone of making low-grade content.

This particular situation infuriated me the most.

Now, I want to talk about what "content farm" is and what they are eaten with.

To begin with, the content farms are YouTube channels that strive for more views on this site and get to the recommendation pages for your kids. These are common unflattering animated videos with questionable context contained in them.

Their distinctive feature is repeated stock images of characters, stolen pictures, and designs, interweaving characters from completely unrelated works with the one based on which they make their videos.

Well, I hope this brief description of what content farms are is enough.

I don't understand people who see the obvious, admiration for the author of any show and create their content with care and soul, investing ideas and efforts, and accuse them of being one of these pathetic bastards from YouTube who absolutely don't give a fuck what they release on the platform, caring only about views and clickbait.

Before you write insults to the author in the anonymous mode in their inbox, think a little, damn it. Just think how much you insult a person who is burning with their art and ideas by saying such words to them while under the guise of anonymity, a fucking coward.

#ark talk #podcast with ark #this is probably the biggest shit I ever wrote.

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zarya-zaryanitsa · 7 months

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Protective household demons in Polish folklore

Belief in protective household demons was in all likeliness widespread among Slavic peoples from time immemorial. We do not know how those demonic creatures were imagined and what forms of cult were associated with them in the distant past, since the first sources on this subject we find in confessional literature of the late Middle Ages. In the XV-th century sermon fragment mentioned in previous chapters we find words of disapproval towards folk practice of „feeding” the protective spirits of the house called ubożęta (singular: ubożę).

”There are those who do not wash the dishes after dinner on Great Thursday and holy day, so as to feed the souls that they call vbosshe (ubożę) and others, believing stupidly that spirits need corporal things, when it is written that the Spirit does not have flesh or bones. Some purposefully leave the remains of dinner on their plates, to thus feed the souls or a certain demon that they call vbosshe, but this is completely ridiculous, because they often think, foolish and naive, that what they have left is food for the aforementioned vbesshe, since they care for it to attract good luck, but very often it is a dog that comes without them realizing and devours the remains.”

- Anonymous sermon, XVth century Poland, translation from „Sources of Slavic Pre-Christian Religion”, red. Álvarez-Pedrosa

The same problem was also touched on in two other works, the XVI-th century „Postępek prawa czartowskiego przeciw narodowi ludzkiemu” (roughly translates to „The Progress of Devilish Deeds Against the Human Nation”) and XVII-th century „Czarownica powołana” (roughly „The Witch Appointed”), whose authors were critical of the common practice of the housewives leaving a special, separate evening meal to the protective spirits of the household. P. Gilowski in his XVI-th century „Wykład katechizmu Kościoła krześcijańskiego z pism świętych” (roughly „Explaining the cathechism of Christian Church from holy scripture”) counted protective household spirits among satanic apparitions and wrote „… there are various sorts of devils, earthly skryatkowie (the modern word would be „skrzaty”), domestic ubożęta…”. According to B. Baranowski on the territory of central Poland in XVII-th and XVIII-th century „the belief in all sorts of protective deities remained exceptionally deep. Quite often they were some sorts of household spirits. (…) One was supposed to leave them a little bit of food in the corner of the hut or in the hall and they would then ensure good luck and wealth of the house. Other creatures of this sort were said to live in barns. For this reason one of the boards in the roof of the barn would be left loose, without nails or a small hole would be made in it, and thus it was ensured that the spirit can enter the barn at will.”

The aforementioned ubożeta, skrzaty and other related protective house spirits, similarly to atmospheric and natural demonology, were included in the family of devilish beings during the Counter-Reformation. On this basis, completely new images of domestic demons were formed, such as the diabeł-latawiec (a character combining elements of an atmospheric demon, a protective household spirit and the devil) or a diabeł-chowaniec (devil-familiar). Both of these beings were credited with activities aimed at securing abundance and prosperity on farms. As a consequence, this led to the formation in the minds of the rural people of the dual nature of devilish beings, that could be either dangerous and harmful or good and caring. The latter group included, among others, guardian house demons.

Concurrently, in the second half of XVIII-th century Catholic clergy started their own varied efforts towards broader dissemination and popularization (especially in rural areas and small towns) of the cult of angelic beings in particular guardian angels. To the latter they would assign very specific protective functions which were supposed to result in complete erasure of traditional beliefs in household spirits that were still present in the popular consciousness. The Church doctrine of that time stated that every person has a God-assigned guardian angel whose task is to guard their charge from all kinds of dangers and temptations. An interesting aspect of that protection was the constant war guardian angels and devils would wage over the salvation of human soul. This concept also found it’s reflection in the developing folklore, for example in an eschatalogical piece „Przemowa Diabła i Anioła przy łożu Umierającego” (translates to: The Speech of a Devil and an Angel by the bed of a Dying Man).

- Polska demonologia ludowa by Leonard Pełka, amateur translation by Zarya-Zaryanitsa

#polish folklore #slavic folklore #slavic paganism #household spirits

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valictini · 6 months

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Trying to gather all of Tubbo and Aypierre's beefs with eachother (Feel free to add onto it if I missed something)

- Aypierre and Tubbo fighting for the title of the richest person on the island.

- Both of them judging eachother's approach to using create

- Aypierre resenting and blaming Tubbo a lot for pushing the boundaries of the server too openly and blatantly, which made the admins nerf create and broke every create machine overnight (VS) Tubbo considering Aypierre to be hypocritical because Aypierre too has been pushing the boundaries before and Tubbo feeling like a scapegoat because he's a newcomer

- Aypierre considering it extremely bad manners for Tubbo to construct his factories and dig his enormous hole so close to the common areas (VS) Tubbo promising that the project wasn't JUST a hole and made sure that the admins accepted the project before doing it, he felt like it was far enough from spawn not to be a bother

- Aypierre kidnapping and interrogating Fred because he was the one who wrote the surgery reports describing how Aypierre was tortured and experimented on (VS) Tubbo being very attached to Fred and suspecting that Aypierre did this mostly to get to Tubbo

- In purgatory, Aypierre deciding to ignore the truce Tubbo had with green team on elimination day and trying to rope Bad in. He didn't want to find out what would happen if the teams tied or worse, if green team betrayed them. (VS) Tubbo wanting that tie to happen at all cost and having to bear the burden of green team thinking that he betrayed the truce. Resents Aypierre for what he considers to be a coup d'etat.

- Aypierre learning about Sunny's love for riches and trying to make her like him more than Tubbo just because (VS) Tubbo already feeling like an inadequate father and resenting Aypierre for trying to undermine his efforts

- Aypierre filling the Tubbhole with chickens because he was still baffled that it was allowed and he wanted to get yet another petty revenge against Tubbo. Figured that Tubbo could just drop a few foxes in it to clean it up later (VS) Tubbo who killed the chickens by hand in order for his mob farm to work and swore revenge against Aypierre

#qsmp #qsmp tubbo #qsmp aypierre #q!tubbo #q!aypierre #qsmp analysis #i guess?

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helpinghanikan · 8 months

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Star Wars Kinktober 2023

Day 18: Desperate (Captain rex)

Kinktober Master List

As a clone, Rex has no idea if he’ll ever return from his missions. As a Captain, he had the privilege of being a step above the common cannon fodder. As your man, he had something to survive for.

That was what made his kisses so desperate. Rex had enough self-control not to outright maul you in the hangar or on the street. It’s when you’re finally alone together that he feels free enough to indulge himself. He wants to feel your lips to his and explore your mouth as if it would be the last time he’ll ever get the chance.

You’ll chuckle as he does this. Finding his desperation endearing and attractive. You have a surface-level understanding of what Rex is feeling. You, too, are never guaranteed to see him again. But, to you, it’s no different than the other men and women who have to give up their partners to the war effort. Rex was a warrior and warriors fought to protect the world. The major difference is that Rex was made to be only that; a warrior. When the war ends, what happens to the warriors that survive?

He doesn’t bring up his worries when he’s with you. That’s a kind of personal conversation left to be made with his brothers. When he’s with you he can imagine being something other than a warrior.

He holds your hips and can see a wedding. He bites at your breasts and can taste never-ending dinners and breakfasts together. Laying you down, seeing your eyes widen as he penetrates, and maybe even a family could be in the future.

Really Rex wants a farm on some far-off planet where the Republic would never bother either of you again. He wants his brothers there as neighbors with their own families and lives. He wants you, every day, in every way, without the worry if this would be the last time.

That’s why he rarely fucks, he prefers to make love. He cherishes being inside of you, spilling inside your walls, and making your cum in a way others could only dream of.

Yes, he wants freedom. But, mainly, he wants you.

#reader insert #star wars imagine #star wars #fluff #star wars fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #angst #captain rex x reader #captain rex #star wars the clone wars #Captain rex my beloved

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total-dxmure · 4 months

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ೃ࿔ “INVISIBLE STRING THEORY” MASTERLIST

the marines didn’t ruin ellie. ellie ruined ellie. after being medically discharged she feels lost. being sent to live with joel is more of a last ditch effort to save her and less of a fun reunion for the father-daughter duo. jackson is worlds different than chicago, but the fresh air and sprawling countrysides are a welcome reprieve. ellie finds herself finding comfort in more than just the change in scenery though. after losing your girlfriend due to an accident you feel as though you’ll never find love again- but that was before meeting ellie williams. the two of you figure out that you have more in common than just the fact that she and your girlfriend were both marines though. tethered by some invisible string, the two of you meeting has to be fate. who would have known that you were the golden ticket to ellie’s recovery?

total word count: 13.8k

𖦹 chapter one- grief is a difficult thing for anyone to navigate, but ellie finds it impossible to tread through her bottomless depression. all roads seem to lead to nowhere and everyday is a struggle. after a run in with the law after a ptsd episode, her close friends decide that it's do or die. a quick phone call to joel is all it takes to turn her world upside down. moving back to wyoming is a last ditch effort to save the scarred marine. the woman has no idea what's waiting for her back home. . . or who.

𖦹 chapter two- it's easy to pretend that things are normal when she's with joel. she can put on a brave face. grin and bear it, as they say. your sudden appearance in ellie's life hits her like a battering ram, and she finds it impossible not to be drawn to you. joel lets her know that you are no stranger to loss. the two of you seem to have a lot in common. a lost engagement ring, a smitten ellie and a minor mental breakdown.

𖦹 chapter three- you're tired of waking up in bed cold and alone. abby would have wanted you to find joy again. . . so why can't you? ellie shows up bright and early to help you with your duties on the farm, which is when you realize just how irresistible she is. for the first time in a while you feel comfortable to be yourself around someone, and she feels the exact same way. she shares some hard truths about herself and discovers what was once lost to you.

𖦹 chapter four- to be continued . . .

ೃ࿔ fic "soundtrack"

i fall to pieces - patsy cline

i walk the line - johnny cash

big black car - gregory ivan isakov

blue eyes crying in the rain - willie nelson

streets of laredo - marty robbins

plastic jesus - tia blake

almost gone - my terrible friend

death don’t have no mercy - rev. gary davis

i’m so lonesome i could cry - hank williams

god’s gonna cut you down - johnny cash

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flmer · 1 year

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mmh could it be... something soft for pomefiore? with a mc who likes to make them laugh maybe? :0

making them laugh

character/s. vil, rook, epel.

includes. gn!reader, fluff, corny pick up line on epel's part <3

cw. none.

note. yipeee I love me some good fluff

VIL.

He adores how hard you try just to see his real smile and not his fake and practiced smile that he shows to other people (except close people to him)

The way you find such unique ways to make him laugh is enough to set butterflies ablaze on his tummy.

whenever you mention to him how he's much more prettier and cuter when he smiles... he just... melts. (internally of course) and he believes you because how can he not when he can see your efforts just to hear his laugh?

you're lucky that vil adores you even if you make corny and lame jokes, he'll laugh at them because he doesn't want your effort to go to waste although he would tell you about it being corny....

“That was such a corny joke my dearest.”

ROOK.

If you try to make him laugh... he just chuckles and returns the favor by making you laugh instead and it always ends with some sort of fight or challenge to see who makes the other laugh more... (whenever vil sees you and rook doing this, he just shakes his head at the childish-yet-endearing-scene and continuing to walk gracefully towards wherever he's going.)

If you tell him that you love his laugh he'll make sure to laugh, chuckle, and giggle around you more and he always takes note of the fact the sides of your lips seem to twitch upwards whenever you hear his laugh.

He's very grateful for you because whenever he's in a sour mood you always manage to cheer him up with your ways of making people laugh

he makes sure to praise you for the effort you put into making his day brighter and he always makes sure to make your day 3x more brighter!

“My sweet sweet bow... why did the chicken cross the road?”

EPEL.

I like to think that whenever epel's real laugh comes out it doesn't sound 'graceful' It's like a snort but whenever you hear it, you know he isn't fake laughing at your jokes.

his cheeks become rosy like an apple whenever he smiles widely or laughs and it's so adorable and grrr (you'll have the urge to squish it but I advise you don't or he'll get mad at you >:T )

something he has in common with rook and vil is that he always appreciates it whenever he's feeling a lil insecure about his masculinity and you try to crack jokes just for him to cheer up and it always works

you guys 100% have sleepovers secretly in his dorm room and try to be quiet because it's past his bedtime curfew and you don't want rook or vil barging in on you two in the middle of a tickle fight on a awkward position....

I imagine that whenever Vil's around you try to make jokes that would surely make the farm boy wheeze so hard and he is BUT THEN HE SEES VIL AND SHOOTS YOU A SIDE EYE

he's trying so hard not to let his real laugh come out because he doesn't wanna get lectured again and waste the spare time he wants to spend with you :((

the both of you like to tell lame and cheesy pick up lines with each other and every time it gets more cheesiest and corny but that's what makes the both of you crack up and fall in love deeper with each other

“You're the epel of my eyes, applepie.”

“And you're as sweet as freshly picked epels, epel.”

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why-animals-do-the-thing · 1 year

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Weird question but do you think its possible to become a zookeeper without a degree? I'm 29 and don't have the time, energy, or money to go back to college and fear I've missed my chance at my dream career. I'm not sure how to get experience or what I could possibly do to help my resume.

It’s definitely possible! Not super common, but possible - and much more so than it would have been a couple of years ago.

When I was in college (early 2010s) and wanting to enter the field, there was a pretty clear pipeline: four year degree, unpaid summer internships, then apply for a part-time or temp position somewhere, and volunteer somewhere until you get a first job. This is still somewhat of the way it’s done at bigger AZA facilities.

But, interestingly enough, things are changing. There’s two things really driving that. The first is the massive push for increased DEAI efforts in the zoo industry. After the big commitments AZA and many individual zoos made during the BLM protests in 2020, one of the big conversations that started was how inequitable zoo hiring and especially internship programs are. Requiring four years degrees and large amounts of unpaid labor before getting a job - and paying poverty wages once someone gets that job - biases success entering and staying in the zoo field towards people with generational wealth. I honestly didn’t think the advocacy that stemmed from those discussions would do much, and I’ve been very pleasantly surprised to see that I was wrong! There’s a been a lot of real movement towards creating paid internships and making hiring requirements more equitable. It isn’t happening everywhere, but I know it’s becoming more and more common (and last year there was a ton of presentations about this on the AZA annual meeting schedule, which is a huge deal). The other thing that’s happening is less formal, but equally fascinating. I’ve been present for a lot of discussions about how there’s a disconnect between what zoos are hiring for (formal education, complex resumes) and what skills the job actually requires. It seems like it’s easier to train people to work with animals and learn their behavior than it is to teach people practical skills like how to do manual labor without hurting themselves and operate heavy machinery. I’ve seen some discussions of how some of their most successful new staff have come from adjacent industries or even just other “blue-collar” jobs that involve similar types of work, regardless of what their academic background is. Which is great! Because that adds to equity and diversity of staff across the industry.

To start off the rest of my answer, there has to be a disclaimer that I’m not in hiring, so I can’t say for sure what will get you a job (and while I’ve volunteered and interned, I have never been formally hired as staff by a zoological facility). So my advice for the rest of this comes from watching and listening to a whole ton of industry folk for the past decade or so, and from what I’ve seen my friends do that’s been successful to get jobs in the field.

In terms of experience, the best thing you can do - and I hate to say this, because it does require a level of privilege to be able to do - is volunteer somewhere. It doesn’t have to be at a zoo. Anything that will give you some animal experience for a resume and references will be valuable: shelters, vet offices, riding barns, farms, even 4H. You need to be able to demonstrate that you’ve worked around a variety of species (even if they’re all domestic) and have people who can speak to the fact that you’re diligent, attentive to detail, and have common sense about things like safety protocols. If you can’t volunteer, try to find a job in any of these areas with similar skills. Or where you can learn them! Say you can’t get an animal care job, but you’re good at phones and people - you could get a desk job at an animal shelter, and help out with cleaning and animal enrichment when possible. Boom! Experience!

It’s also important to learn how to shape your current job experience to an application, which is something I can talk more about and maybe pull in advice from folk actually in hiring for. There’s a ton that can be applicable to animal jobs. Office work? You can probably speak to experience with proprietary software systems and record-keeping (which is a bigger deal than you’d think). Construction / landscaping / similar physical labor jobs? You know how to work hard in a range of weather conditions, keep a project on spec, have experience with complex project planning, and probably know a thing or two about basic safety stuff (don’t store heavy things above your head, lift with your legs, etc). You’re basically looking to communicate “I haven’t worked in this field, but here’s all the skills I have that will translate to this job.”

Realistically, if you’re coming in without a degree or a ton of animal experience, you’re much more likely to be able to get a job at smaller, non-AZA facilities to start (they might not even be zoos - there’s sanctuaries and petting zoos and all sorts of other professional animal care gigs). And this is fine and good! There’s lots of good ones out there. You can always use experience gained there to move up in the field, if it’s your dream to work at an AZA facility specifically. And a lot of people do that - you’ll hear some places talk about how they know they’re training zoos, because their staff get a foot in the door and then consistently leave for other facilities after a couple years. But there’s also a lot of reasons to stay with some of the smaller facilities. They’re often in areas with cheaper cost of living, and so a zookeeping salary will go farther. I’ve also seen that a lot of the smaller facilities - ones where like, staff know and interact with the zoo director frequently - tend to take better care of their staff. They may not be able to increase salary, but I’ve seen some of those facilities go the extra mile for their people in other ways when it’s possible. It’s a very different experience than being a small cog in the giant machines that are many AZA zoos. It’s the sort of thing you have to vet carefully, but when you find a small facility that really invests in it’s people, it can be very worthwhile.

You also have to think about the fact that you don’t have to start in zookeeping to get an animal care job! I’ve seen a lot of people start in education or in summer camp staff, and then use the relationship with the facility and their track record in those jobs to transition into animal care. Especially education, if you’ve got the skill-set, because you’re often working with ambassador animals or in collaboration with the teams that care for them. I’ve seen some people start in facilities or ground crew, too, but I think that’s less common. Getting your foot in the door somehow and building relationships is one of the biggest parts of getting a job in the field if you’re not following the traditional pipeline.

If you’re near enough to a smaller facility that you can visit regularly, do. Learn as much as you can about the zoo and what they do and what they’re involved in, to show that you’re interested and invested, and then go talk to someone there. Tell them exactly what you told me: this is a dream, and you’re really interested in their facility specifically, and you’re wondering what you should do to build a resume to apply for a job there. At worst, you’ll get some advice. At best, they might take a chance on you. I’ve heard of it happening. (The hardest part of this is, honestly, figuring out who to talk to - it’s not the sort of thing where you can just ask a keeper while they’re cleaning. But you can find opportunities, and then ask if there’s someone in management who might have time to answer a couple questions.)

So in short: yes. It’ll take some work and time, and probably some free labor, but it’s doable. More so now than any other time recently. Good luck!

#zookeeping #zoo industry #getting a zoo job #how to become a zookeeper #job advice

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archieimagines · 7 months

Text

two weeks, tops | karl weissman

Summary: The plan: adopt an evacuee to help on your Inverness farm. Not the plan: adopting two.

hi, it's me again! i've been away for a while (sorry) but the power that karl weissman holds is vast and only a fix-it fic for him and esther can save my soul. we'd all love to adopt them. if you haven't watched netflix's bodies, definitely give it a shot! if anyone has any ideas for lovely karl, please comment or send them in! i'd love to write more for him and some pointers would be great. <3warnings: mentions of war and death, mourning. karl using yet another name. word count: 2666 written by: archie

You hovered on the platform, watching as the countless evacuees from London came pouring out of the carriages. Dozens on dozens of children, ready for a new, safer life. They were each swept up by loving new mothers, fussing over their name tags and taking their wee little suitcases, escorting them to cars and buses for a few years of family. The smiling kids were chosen first. They’d clearly had coaching on how to be picked, smiling through the trauma of being uprooted from their lives and planted into the unknown. And then, one by one, the sorry looking ones were claimed. Tatters for clothes, no luggage, barely a silver coin to offer their new parents.

You could give them a better life. You could have, with your chickens and sheep. There’d be eggs for breakfast, newly knitted cardigans, markets on weekends-- and no air raids at all. You’d be warm to the new presence in your cottage, happy even to take siblings that didn’t want to be split, and yet… You just hovered there, wringing your hands, letting every opportunity hurry by. It wouldn’t be hard to reach out and introduce yourself. Why didn’t you? Why couldn’t you bring yourself to step amongst the aspiring foster parents, offering your life to the sweetlings that so desperately needed it?

You sighed, the ache in your chest hollowing as the train departed the station once more. The chatter of evacuees and new parents trickled away, eventually leaving an almost barren platform. The bite of Scottish air dusted your nose pink, but you weren’t sure that the water in your eyes was from the chill.

It wasn’t your first time almost taking in an evacuee. It’d been the same every time. You’d excite yourself with the prospect of the weekly train from London, the thought of a happy little voice in your cottage instead of the silence of your own existence and the occasional caw of a cockerel. You really needed it. To have someone around again. And it always seemed like such a good idea until you were stood on the platform, faced with the reality of the responsibility of a child on your own. A far cry from the future you’d imagined. You and your husband, raising a wee happy family of your own.

Ever since your husband had responded to the war’s call for soldiers, you’d intended to do your best for the war effort and save a child from the bombs of the London Blitz, like a practice for when he came home and you could try for a real family, bringing you a step closer to everything you’d wanted.

Until the postman brought one fateful letter, ending your ideal future and shaking you to the core. Your husband wouldn’t be returning, you wouldn’t have a child with him. The thought of bringing a child into your house and doing it alone…

Then why did the empty platform, devoid of opportunity, hurt you so? Ah, maybe if there was just one child left. A sad, lonely one, hiding somewhere? There’d be so much in common.

You steeled yourself, deciding that on the off chance there was one poor evacuee left in need, you’d take them in, no questions asked. No thinking. No room for doubt. It was time to be stern with yourself, so you marched up the platform, looking in the crevices of the station building, anywhere that a poor wee soul might fold themselves in a corner. The telephone nooks would be the most likely spot.

And sure enough, there was a child! A little girl in a bright red, soot-ridden coat. Only… She was already with a foster parent, peering up at the sharply-dressed man in a trilby hat while he was on the phone.

Her eyes were so round and sweet, her little fist clinging to the edge of the man’s coat, and something unpleasant made a home in your chest. Why did he get to have a child? Sure, he must be on good money to wear a pin-striped suit like that, important enough not to be called away for the military. Maybe he had a wife waiting for them back at home. Why should he have a spouse and a child when you had neither? And she seemed so lovely, too…

You met her eye accidentally, and couldn’t help noticing how absolutely exhausted she seemed. She clearly hadn’t had a bath in days and was in desperate need of a hot meal. The reality dawned on you, and you couldn’t help feeling guilty for your assumptions about the man. You had no business thinking in such a way. She needed all the help she could get, and the suited man was kind enough to offer it to her. He didn’t deserve your disapproval. You mustered the strength and offered the girl a smile and she gave one in return, her eyes so visibly haunted. She’d been through so much, and you’d never know.

You looked away before your smile turned sad. You’d finally decided on taking in an evacuee, only there were no more coming until next week. And by then, you’d probably need convincing all over again, and you’d miss that chance too.

It was a lot to handle. The urge to cry wasn’t sudden, but it was strong. You glanced around and spotted a nearby bench, but before you could take a step, you heard it.

The man’s accent. It didn’t make sense. The foster parent, who you’d assumed was a Scotsman if he lived locally, had a deep Cockney accent. “Nah, I got a kid with me now. You gotta put us up for a while ‘til I can sort summat out. Two weeks, tops.”

Something about the words stilled your feet, the bench blurred in your tearful vision. Saying you tried not to listen in would’ve been a lie. It was your first time hearing such an accent not on an evacuee and something about it was obnoxiously intriguing. That, and the fact he… He needed somewhere to stay? Had he travelled on the train with the evacuees?

“Mike, just shut your kisser and listen for a sec. I’ve got ‘er with me and there’s- No, no. Don’t you fucking call ‘em.” A long pause. With the outburst, you couldn’t help but glance back to the man hunched at the telephone. The little girl’s face told you it all. Those furrowed brows, the worry in the shallow lines of her forehead as she peered up at him. Whatever was going on there, things weren’t going to plan.

He glanced down at her with a sigh, an affectionate hand landing atop her head in weak reassurance. He must’ve seen your shoes from under the rim of his hat, for his face lifted and his eyes pinned on you.

The intensity of that glare surprised you. Heavy brows and a set jaw, a glint in his eye that was deeply critical, giving you a stern once-over. His hand atop the little girl’s head dropped to her nape, guiding her half a step closer to the telephone, tucking her against his side in a protective hold. One thing for sure, he hadn’t just picked her up at the station today. He’d come with her from London. Definitely. The girl’s real father perhaps? Why would he personally bring her all the way-?

“D’you mind?” his defensive call pulled you from your thoughts and you realised you’d been staring. You raised your hands in silent apology and took a step back, once again remembering your place. You’d come here to foster a child in need, not eavesdrop on the telephone calls of obscurely out-of-place Londoners. Your attention fell back on the bench that beckoned you, but you could still clearly hear that thick accent softer in the air as you departed. “...A’right, fine, don’t worry ‘bout it. We’ll be on the next train to Euston, then.”

You settled on the bench, no longer caring to listen to the man’s sigh and the ding of the telephone being put back on its hook. You pulled your coat tighter around you, the light sting of tears behind your eyes growing harder to resist, until you started building your to-do list in your mind. Busying yourself in your head was the quickest way to help yourself from falling into despair, you’d discovered. Staying busy with the farmwork kept your mind and hands busy, and even as you sat there with your afternoon tasks completed, you’d have many more by the time you got home. It was exhausting work to do alone, but at least it helped you stay numb.

The pain of returning home started to grow within you once again, so you dabbed at your eyes and readied yourself to head home. Until you noticed a hue of red from the corner of your eye. “Excuse me? Can I sit here?”

The girl spoke with another surprising accent. Considering her father, you expected a similar deep Londoner’s accent, but the one she came out with was… German? Your brows raised in puzzlement, but you wasted no time in gesturing to the empty side of the bench. “Of course.”

Her father’s face was far from impressed as he approached the bench too, hissing out in a low voice, “Esther! Think about it first.” But it was too late, she’d settled right beside you.

She’d clearly hurried away from him to come and sit with you, and paid no heed at his warning. A little troublemaker, perhaps. “Are you waiting for a train? We just got off ours.” Her grin was bright and sweet, a stark difference from how she carried herself just moments ago.

“Actually, I’m not. I was just--” The father’s steps finally drew to a pause within touching distance of Esther. A looming, protective figure. “Well. That doesn’t matter. I was just about to be off.”

You gathered yourself and stood up, but wee Esther didn’t care, voice bright as sunshine. “You were looking for an evacuee?”

Those eyes felt heavy on you from beneath the trilby hat and you did your best not to look at them. “I… W-well, yes.”

“You have a big house?”

“Uh, it’s more like a farm, really.”

“Wow!” Her beaming face looked back to her father, and you took a glance too. His lips seemed to be pursed in thought, a brow quirked as she rattled on. “You have animals? Land?”

This Esther girl was certainly endearing. You couldn’t help the raising of your cheeks in a smile of your own, infectious from hers. You nodded, “Chickens and sheep, and two whole fields.”

Esther scooted closer on the bench with that ever-contagious grin on her sweet face, her messy braids flopping around her. “Then you must need a hand with all that! My- my father would be super good at it, especially mucking out the animals!” She turned with a laugh towards her father, who seemed less than thrilled that she’d offered him up for such a task.

“Alright, alright, enough from you,” he chastised her, stepping close enough to lay a protective hand atop her head once more. He was clearly a wary man, and you knew something peculiar must’ve happened to bring the two of them here like this, but it didn’t stop his surprisingly charming smile shining at her. “You just like the thought of me covered in shit, eh?”

“It’s not like you’d smell much different!” she snarked.

Your brows raised at the exchange. Granted, you’d little experience with children and parenthood, but you were sure it wasn’t commonplace for a father to swear in front of their child, and it was even less rare that a young girl would talk back in such a way. And yet, they shared a humoured smile.

He raised his gaze to you once more, though it was different this time. The smile on his face was alarmingly attractive, and the cheeky light in his eyes told you he knew it. He tipped his hat and nodded his head, voice polite and clear even with that accent in its veins. “Ka-Ahem. Curtis Bramley, East London. This is my girl. If you’re in need of a hand on your farm, we can offer you four. No need for paying, just a roof and a meal every night. How’s that sound, love?”

It was a lot to be thrown at you, and very quickly. How unorthodox to foster both a child and a fully-grown man; if it were taking in Esther alone, you wouldn’t have to think twice about it. But Esther and her father? Another man… In your home? It’d be like having your dream back, but-- With the wrong man.

Something in you froze, and you blinked up at him. You could already tell, he was so very different from your lost love. Your sandy haired husband, mellow and sweet, with the gentlest disposition in the world. His clothes were always stained with mud or grass, the scruff of his facial hair haphazardly shaven when he found the time for it.

And yet here was Curtis, dressed to the nines even after a day-long steam train journey, his moustache perfectly shaped and sitting on his face just right. Dark hair and dark eyes that visibly held a great many secrets, a shield of charm thick enough to divert the attention. A deep fellow. Certainly more than you ever thought you could handle.

And yet, he had a sweet little girl in need, asking kindly to share your life. The life you’d been living in solitude for far too long. The prospect was nothing short of terrifying, and yet… The way she twirled the end of her braid through her fingers in nerves. It was knotted and dirty, and some maternal instinct inside of you ached to wash and brush it for her. Grant her the chance to live like a happy little girl should.

You glanced to Curtis, and he must’ve caught the wistful uncertainty in your eyes, for he attempted to keep his smile from becoming downtrodden. He must’ve known it was a lot to ask of a stranger on a train platform who only expected to bring home a child. But he wouldn’t leave her side, and you both knew that. He tried to keep the sigh from his words, but he must’ve been too exhausted to keep it at bay. “‘Ow’s about two weeks, tops?”

Two weeks… Wasn’t that long. If it was too much for you, you’d be safe in knowing they’d be gone pretty quickly, and you could go back to solitary life with the animals. Perhaps it’d be worth a try.

You turned your attention to the smiling Esther once more, and it was like a dam broke. The instant swell of affection in your chest had you questioning why you ever doubted sharing your home with her, no matter the smallprint. You reached out to lay a careful hand atop her head, giving a ruffle of her stray hairs. You’d love to help her rebraid it properly.

A grin lit up on your face, an affirmative nod offered to Curtis. “Two weeks, tops.”

A dual sigh of relief from the pair of evacuees. Young arms flung themselves around your waist, and the tears that stung your sinuses were now on the opposite end of the scale. Sheer joy enveloped you just as Esther’s embrace did and you didn’t waste a moment before holding her snug in your arms, surprised by how natural it felt to rest your cheek on her head.

You laid your eyes on Curtis. That gaze, previously harsh, previously charming… It was now the truest it’d been so far. Nothing but softness and gratitude, his own exhaustion evident. You could see how the load on his shoulders had lightened, how caring for Esther on his own had been so hard for him. But now, he wouldn’t be alone either.

“Cheers, love. You’re a fucking star.”

#karl weissman #charles whiteman #bodies netflix #karl weissman x reader #charles whiteman x reader #karl weissman imagine #charles whiteman imagine #esther jankovsky #bodies 2023 #jacob fortune lloyd #written by archie

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