#Pellet uniformity

[curiousquill1]

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[xyhuaqiang]

In modern agricultural production, the disposal of chicken manure has always been a difficult problem. However, with the continuous development of organic fertilizer granulation technology, this problem has been effectively solved. By converting chicken manure into organic fertilizer, it not only solves the problem of environmental pollution, but also brings additional economic benefits to chicken farms.

First of all, the establishment of Organic Fertilizer Production Line is the key to achieve this transformation. Production lines usually include raw material preparation, fermentation, crushing, mixing, granulation, drying, screening and packaging. At the raw material preparation stage, fresh chicken manure is dehydrated and fermented to reduce odors and improve the stability of organic matter. During the fermentation process, the Windrow Compost Turning Machine can be used to increase oxygen and accelerate the decomposition of organic matter.

Next comes the crushing process, where Cage Crusher plays an important role in crushing the fermented material to a size suitable for granulation. The pulverized material passes to the Horizontal Ribbon Mixer, where it is mixed with other nutrients such as NPK fertilizers produced on the NPK Fertilizer Production Line to prepare for granulation.

Granulation is a crucial step in the production of organic fertilizer, where the Flat-Die Pellet Machine forms the mixture into pellets that have good physical properties and are easy to apply and store. The produced particles are then dried in a Rotary Dryer Machine to reduce the moisture content and improve the preservation of the fertilizer.

The dried organic fertilizer particles are screened by Rotary Screening Machine to ensure that the particle size is consistent and in line with market standards. Finally, Uniform Feeder will uniformly feed the sieved particles into the packaging system, complete the packaging, ready for sale.

Through this series of processing processes, the manure from the chicken farm is no longer waste, but becomes an efficient organic fertilizer. This fertilizer can not only improve soil structure and increase crop yields, but also reduce the use of chemical fertilizers, thus reducing the environmental impact.

In addition, the organic fertilizer granulation recycling mode also helps to improve the economic benefits of chicken farms. By selling organic fertilizer, chicken farms can obtain an additional source of income. At the same time, because the use of organic fertilizers reduces the dependence on chemical fertilizers, it also reduces the cost of agricultural production.

In short, the application of organic fertilizer granulation technology not only solves the problem of manure treatment in chicken farms, but also realizes the recycling of resources, which brings double benefits of environmental protection and economic benefits to chicken farms. With the continuous progress of technology and the increasingly mature market, organic fertilizer granulation will certainly play an increasingly important role in modern agricultural production.

[the-muppet-joker]

Curious about muppet biology. The muppet hole is obviously a sexual organ, but you also refer to it as having teeth and being capable of digesting things through it.

Is waste excreted through the muppet hole as well, or is there another method of waste disposal? Perhaps when eating something like a hand or a large rodent, waste such as bones are collected and excreted through regurgitation in pellets, like an owl?

Are muppets capable of pregnancy regardless of sex? Muppets obviously have genders (Kermit being a man, M*ss P*ggy being a woman), but do they have sex characteristics other than muppet holes? Are muppets single-sexed?

Asking all these questions because I feel like I should know as much as I can before it is my time to enter the muppet transformation caves and transmogrify the wretched meat of my body into felt forever.

Thank you in advance!

Muppets all have muppet hole ONLY muppet hole. We are biologically uniform in terms of sex, which is part of the reason Trans Phobia is so stupid to me. Genitals do not exist for muppets, and humans ascribe far too much meaning to them anyway. Waste is NOT excreted through the Muppet Hole, and it is not used for digestion under most circumstances. That is for Special Muppets. We are a diverse species, if you can call us that. It would be like calling angels as a whole a species. In the Muppet Transformation Caves, you will finally look how you have always desired, so long as that is a muppet. Felt, wooden, clay, the puppet form is of your chosing. The perfect world awaits.

[incorrectbatfam]

What do the Goofy Gooners look like .. asking for a friend …

Rob is a tired dad with an inferiority complex. He doesn't put much effort into his appearance because basic hygiene already saps a lot of his energy. He has reddish-brown hair that he keeps short for convenience and doesn't shave as often as he should, so there's always a thin layer of stubble. I picture him to be around 33 but stress makes him look older. He usually wears the same basic t-shirts and cargo pants—a polo would be fancy for him. He's on the underweight side because he frequently skips meals so his kids and Milo have enough. He also has random tattoos scattered over his arms plus one on his leg and neck. They don't mean anything, just dumb stuff he got when he was younger, including a winking emoticon and the Pillsbury doughboy.

Blaise is 26 and you can tell he's a stoner from the get-go. He has dirty blonde hair that he grows out but hardly maintains, and the same level of effort goes for his clothes. He often wears things he finds in dumpsters or thrift stores and chooses comfort over style. His clothes have lots of hidden pockets for lighters, firecrackers, and weapons. He's tall and lanky, which makes living out of Milo's car in the parking lot awkward (Rob offered his apartment but he declined). Similar to Rob, Blaise also has a number of meaningless tattoos plus several piercings. He also plays the guitar and keeps his lucky pick on a necklace.

Kellin is a 20-year-old originally hailing from Thailand. Their assassin parents trained them in gymnastics, martial arts, and various weaponry from a young age in hopes that Kellin would follow in the family's footsteps and join the League of Assassins. That obviously didn't work out and they traveled around as an independent hitman (hitperson?) for a couple years before they landed in Gotham. They're always battle-ready—if they could shower in their assassin uniform they would. They changed their name and keep their hair just long enough to mask their face. They're fluent in English, Thai, Vietnamese, Chinese, and Arabic, but they prefer to let their actions speak for them instead.

Molly is a 25-year-old trans woman who incorporates her jobs as a drug dealer, team strategist, and nightclub DJ in a single look. She has long dark hair dyed with neon streaks but ties it up when fighting. She's not the most formidable combatant but she has basic fighting skills and is very calculative. Her primary weapon is a metal baseball bat, inspired by her favorite anti-hero, Harley Quinn. She also has a belt equipped with her experimental chemicals and smoke pellets. However, she's not allowed to pair up with Blaise on missions because it's an open secret that the two of them can't focus around each other.

Otto is a war veteran and car mechanic around the same age as Alfred, but that's where the similarities end. He's been wearing the same mechanic's uniform for the past four decades, the only differences between then and now being his hair thinning, a couple front teeth falling out, and acquiring a beer gut. His arms are covered in scabs and scars from the job and he's had trouble with his right knee ever since the army. On the surface he seems like a Boomer yelling at kids to get off his lawn, but he's more like a stern but well-intentioned grandpa who is disappointed to see nothing much has changed over the years.

Milo is your standard 15-year-old delinquent. He's slightly small for his age and doesn't pack that big of a punch on his own, but put him behind the wheel and he's a total menace. When he's not driving, he keeps himself stimulated with video games or his collection of keychains (his favorite is purple bat because of his puppy crush on Spoiler). His look is reminiscent of early 2000s skater punks, including a bright red mohawk and his trusty headphones. Everything he owns, minus his car, fits into a single backpack. His weapon, on the rare occasion Rob lets him on the front line, is a batarang he found on the street.

Gene is someone you would never expect to have so many issues because on the outside he looks like an average 40-year-old glasses-wearing office worker. He has short sandy hair and dark circles under his eyes from nightmares. His meds help a lot, but sometimes he's still seen pacing around and muttering to himself. He's not a danger anymore compared to the past, which is why Rob trusts him enough to share an apartment. Gene focuses his nervous energy into his research and tinkering instead, amassing a comedic collection of hyperspecific gadgets.

Mac is basically the guy in the chair. He's 30 and has thick glasses, thick curly brown hair, a thin goatee, and almost exclusively wears flannel. His nails are down to a nub because he bites them when concentrating. He's also often seen with chips or an energy drink in his hands and wears a jailbroken smart watch. Of the team, he has the least physical prowess but the most brain power. He doesn't see combat often but keeps a pistol in case. He turned an old ice cream truck into his home/mobile office so he can plug in anywhere. Like Kellin, he's also not from Gotham, but instead Fawcett City and has a distinct Minnesota accent.

Booker is a 19-year-old Gotham U student and the third member of the team's Glasses Trio. He's an intelligent guy slated to graduate a year early and thus needs his internship credits sooner. He's very polite (albeit a little socially awkward) and puts his best foot forward by coming into work with slacks and fun patterned suspenders even though he doesn't have to. His hair has a slightly uneven fade because his sister insisted on practicing on him for cosmetology school, so he covers it with a fedora. He carries his things in a laptop bag and has an enthusiastic bounce in his step that only newbies would have.

Jackie and Gunner are Rob's 6-year-old twins (Jackie being 8 minutes older) and are the babies of this hodgepodge family. Jackie takes after her late mother with frizzy black hair usually tied in pigtails. She loves wearing pink, reads way above her level, and is a horse girl in that she wants one to stomp on the people she doesn't like. Gunner looks more like his dad, though his hair is a little messier and overgrown. He hates school but loves dirt and monster trucks. Both of them have a troublesome streak but Jackie's a little better at hiding it. They quarrel like siblings do but at the end of the day, they always stick up for each other.

[flock-talk]

ive finally got my budgie fully diet transitioned to pellets, but she does still love her seed mix (this is only important because she will still eat it). but recently since she wasn't really diet transitioning to pellets we just switched her to a more healthy seed mix instead. and now i feel like the variety of seeds and nuts in that mix is good for her. but pellets are also better than seeds? and I was wondering should I keep her fully on pellets or would it be beneficial to keep her on half seed mix half pellets. OR have pellets as her main food and seeds separate as extra, like little snacks or something to go with her veggies. i feel like this is an individual bird type of thing and also depends on what seed mix im using and etc so i know you most likely can't give a definitive answer but i was wondering if you could give some insight

So this is the highly debated topic of parrot keeping at the moment

Pellets are only declared the healthiest option because they are fortified with vitamins and minerals that seeds alone would be lacking while also being low in fat and uniform in size/shape to limit selective consumption which decreases food waste and combats pickiness. Even with veggies in the diet getting the right nutritional balance can be quite difficult so pellets help bridge those nutritional gaps.

Mixing seed/ pellet can be controversial because by feeding seeds you're decreasing the pellet consumption which means the dose of nutrients they'd get from the pellets can no longer be guaranteed. (ex. if they get 2g of calcium from eating straight pellets and you now feed 50% seed they'd only be getting 1g of calcium instead). You also run the risk of the bird reverting off of pellets as parrots are notorious for their poor dietary choices even in the wild. They will consume whatever tastes best or they desire most in the moment, not the food that their body needs which can cause nutritional deficiencies to become even worse off! It can absolutely be done safely provided your bird actually eats both foods accurately and they're supplemented with their veggies or powdered supplements to compensate correctly.

Feeding a variety of low fat, nutrient-dense seeds mixed with veggies, sprouts, and potentially supplements is also a widely used dietary choice by folks who wish to go the more 'natural' route to feeding. This is typically referred to as the "raw fed parrot" diet. It can be great for birds who really struggle to eat pellets consistently, certain species who grass forage for seeds more than produce naturally, or individuals where pellets are too expensive/ unavailable in their region. The concern with this diet is nutritional accuracy, you really do need to consult with a vet, get bloodwork done, and work up a diet plan with them to ensure they're getting everything they need. Most end up needing a powdered supplement sprinkled over fruits/ veg to ensure they're consistently getting the nutrients they need. As previously stated birds are heavily selective consumers and won't eat what their body needs. This diet style has more risk for them over eating certain foods, scarfing down one seed type out of the mix, refusing certain fresh foods, and ultimately causing really askew nutritional values because of it. It can definitely be a good diet choice for some but it is a load of work to get it started!

You may want to give this study a read

https://href.li/?https://www.researchgate.net/profile/Donald-Brightsmith/publication/233534374_Nutritional_Levels_of_Diets_Fed_to_Captive_Amazon_Parrots_Does_Mixing_Seed_Produce_and_Pellets_Provide_a_Healthy_Diet/links/5d1389e3299bf1547c820a64/Nutritional-Levels-of-Diets-Fed-to-Captive-Amazon-Parrots-Does-Mixing-Seed-Produce-and-Pellets-Provide-a-Healthy-Diet.pdf?origin=publication_detail

It covers how the presentation of different foods alters the overall nutrition, selective consumption, and other things you may be interested in

[lemony-snickers]

11. tentative hand holding

Kakashi pairing 😊

The storm that halted your progress continues to rage outside the small shelter you and Kakashi have constructed. You should be home by now, wrapped in blankets after a hot shower, maybe a cup of tea balanced on your knees.

Instead, you're crouched beneath an overhang dodging ice pellets and the tattered remnants of tree branches.

"Lovely weather we're having," Kakashi says, voice barely discernible over the howling wind.

You snort.

Everything had gone perfectly during your mission, at least. No snags or hiccups. Hell, before the squall rolled in, the two of you were on pace to return to Konoha a full half-day before you were scheduled.

"Gotta love this time of year," you say, "every season smashed together in a 24-hour period."

Kakashi chuckles in agreement. "Summer this morning, winter by the time you go to sleep."

You sigh, leaning your head back against the cool stone. "At least it's warm enough our toes aren't in any danger."

Kakashi agrees, "Still, it would be better if we hadn't gotten drenched before we found this spot."

He's not wrong. You are soaked to your skin beneath your ANBU uniform, the pants sticking uncomfortably to your thighs, the bend of your knee. You shake your head, droplets loosing wildly from the strands of your hair.

"You're worse than my ninken," Kakashi chides.

"Shut up."

He does, though you think his amused smile lingers beneath his mask.

The space you and Kakashi have claimed for yourselves is cramped, a cut out set into the side of a stone ridge. You and Kakashi dragged as many large tree branches as you could feasibly gather without being out in the rain for too long to stack against the opening before you finally conceded to the weather.

You sit, shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh, watching the violent mixture of hail and rain beyond the meagerly fortified entrance.

You hope it isn't too obvious how his proximity both exhilirates and frightens you. How long you've harbored a crush for the Copy Ninja you aren't entirely sure, but you know enough about him to think he's not very interested.

Of all his admirers, you certainly aren't the most impressive or good-looking.

Still, it's nice to let your imagination wander for a moment as the two of you watch the storm, to consider what it might be like if you got to sit with him like this all the time, not only when necessary for your safety.

"I'm not keeping you from any important plans am I?" he asks.

You scrunch your face up as you turn to look at him, forgetting for a moment you both removed your masks once you settled into your makeshift camp.

"I don't think you're the one keeping me from anything," you say, gesturing with one hand at the raucous display of nature happening only feet away.

He shakes his head, "Be that as it may, I'm sorry if you were looking forward to better company than me tonight."

There's something about the tone of his voice that tugs at you a little. Not sad, exactly, but almost.

"Trust me, there are very few people I'd be as happy to spend my time with." The way his single eye widens a fraction when you say it makes you think you've revealed too much of your feelings. Hastily, you clear your throat and add, "You're a good commander, one of my favorite teammates. I'm glad we were assigned to this mission together."

You don't dare look at him, afraid he'll be able to read the true meaning of your words in your gaze. You've never been as good at concealing your emotions as he is, so you stare resolutely ahead, trying to count the raindrops to keep yourself occupied.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, the storm continuing to batter the branches you laid at the entrance. The hail gets larger, then smaller again. It disappears and then begins anew.

Kakashi groans. "I thought it was finally letting up," he says.

"Apparently we used all our luck up on that mission."

Kakashi laughs, the sound reverberating off the stone behind you as loud as the thunder cracking across the sky outside. The sound sends a shiver down your spine and he must mistake the motion for you being cold because Kakashi pulls his arm wide and says, "Come here. We'll stay warmer this way."

You hesitate. Because it's plenty warm enough already. It isn't even worth building a fire--the rain would surely snuff it out in a few short minutes, anyway. But you doubt you'll ever get this opportunity again, so you huddle closer to Kakashi under the guise of necessity and his arm wraps comfortably around your shoulders.

You mean to say, "thank you," but you're not sure the words ever make it out of your mouth.

The sound of happily chirping birds serves as an alarm clock the next morning, your eyes flutter open to the sight of golden sunlight streaming in between the branches. It takes a moment for you to recognize the pillow beneath your head is actually a human shoulder--Kakashi's shoulder--and the warmth you feel at your back is his arm.

"Good," he says, "I didn't want to wake you, but we should really get going."

The realization that you have spent the night sleeping in Kakashi Hatake's arms jolts you to alertness.

"Sorry!" you say, trying to work yourself out of his grasp only to meet resistance. "You could have woken me up," you say, turning to look at him, extremely conscious of the weight of his arm still looped over your shoulder.

His voice is much softer than you've ever heard it when he tells you, "You don't have to apologize. It was actually very nice."

The way he smiles at you makes you feel like an Aburame--body buzzing with a hive of anxious flying insects.

He lets you go easily the next time you pull away, and the two of you toss aside the branches you used as a shield the night before so you can continue the rest of your journey back to Konoha. You expect Kakashi to leap up into the trees, to set a quick pace to make up some of the lost time.

Instead, though, he opts to walk slowly through the forest, like he's trying to savor the moment.

You think of the way he looked at you when you woke up, how easily he offered his body heat and closeness. Maybe it's the scent of the rain or the warmth of the sun on your shoulders, or the lingering giddy feeling of his skin against your cheek, but something bold and reckless flares in your chest.

"Kakashi?" you ask, waiting for him to turn and look at you before you continue, "When we get back, would you... would you like to maybe have dinner with me?"

You wish he hadn't put his ANBU mask back on so you could better read his expression. But then he nods, says, "That sounds nice, I'd love to," and your mouth breaks into such a giddy, love-sick grin beneath your own mask you're suddenly very grateful for them.

As you continue your journey home, Kakashi maintains the same languid, unhurried pace. You watch his hands swing slowly as he walks, half wondering why they aren't forcefully shoved into his pockets as they usually are.

With that same buzzy insect feeling in your stomach, you slowly reach out a gloved hand and brush your fingers against his knuckles. You let your hand linger there for a moment, testing his response, prepared to pull away at the slightest hint of disinterest.

Instead, you feel Kakashi's fingers press against yours and then slot between them. You curl your hand, caging his, and feel the soft brush of his thumb as it caresses yours.

Yes, you're definitely grateful for the ANBU mask now because there's no way you would be able to explain away the goofy smile you're wearing if anyone saw it.

[maccreadysbaby]

Project: Killcode

batfamily + oc insert

tw: none

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

this is the longest chapter i've posted in a WHILE but also one of my faves <3 i love character dynamics idjuijfuiejiufie

part twenty-one

❝ BAD GUYS ❞

MONDAY — JULY 23 — 4:04PM

LAYLA DIDN’T COME BACK TO CLASS FOR A WHILE, AND WHEN SHE DID, SHE DIDN’T REALLY SAY MUCH ELSE. Bentley just sort of talked to Varian while she listened along, sparing her glances every once in a while. She seemed pretty upset -- he kind of wished he could fix it, but Layla wasn’t like him and she was… well, a girl, therefore he really had no idea how to interact with her when she was sad. So he just… didn’t. He talked to her like normal, tried to make her feel included, and hoped that worked at least a little.

When the final class of the day was over, students pretty much had free-roam of the campus until dinner, and a lot of the older ones left to work or go places. Bentley didn’t have anything to do, really, so he went back to the dorm instead.

And apparently no one else had anything to do, either, because they were all in there when he and Varian arrived.

Valor was standing in the little kitchen area, furiously blending something that was a gross shade of greenish-brown in a white blender that Bentley hadn’t even realized they owned. There was a slew of canisters and bottles spread out on the counter ahead of him, some with powder, some with pills, some with things like leaves and pellets. There was an empty red Powerade bottle on the counter, too.

Koa was sitting on one of the couches with a few worksheets spread out around him, glaring at Valor in disdain every few seconds. Bentley could see Asten sitting on the top bunk in their room -- on the phone, maybe? Rockie’s bedroom door was closed, and Bellamy’s bedroom door was closed, too, so he assumed that's where they were.

He and Varian closed the door behind them, but Valor’s blender was so loud that he didn’t even notice their entry. 

“You’re going to have a heart attack if you drink that,” Koa said over the noise, glancing at Bentley and Varian and rolling his eyes dramatically. He’s been doing this for ten minutes, he mouthed at them as they entered.

“Nah! I’ve had worse!” Valor replied.

“You have a whole supplement store on the counter. And you’re mixing it with Powerade!” Koa exclaimed, sending a few glances Valor’s way. “I’m pretty sure pills are supposed to be swallowed, not peeled open and dumped into a concoction that's going to burn holes in your organs.”

“I can’t take pills. But I can drink them!”

Varian tossed his bag on the dining room table, and Bentley went past, toward his and Asten’s bedroom. He made his way inside and copied Varian’s movements, tossing his backpack on the bottom bunk and closing the door to quiet Valor’s blender noises so it didn’t bother whoever Asten was talking to. He was on the top bunk with his legs dangling off, and his uniform had already been halfway replaced by sweatpants, which Bentley thought looked kind of funny.

“Oh, hey, B’s here,” Asten said, removing the phone from his ear and tapping the speaker button. “Nico called.”

“Hey, Nico! We just talked about you today,” Bentley said with a faint smile, even though Nico couldn’t see him. 

“Hey, buddy!” He replied, his voice sort of muffled through the phone. “Have a good first day?”

“Pretty good, yeah,” Bentley replied, pulling himself up onto the top bunk next to Asten. “So far the school’s a ten out of ten. Oh, and you’d never guess who my geometry teacher is.”

“Who?” Nico questioned, and Asten watched Bentley’s face closely, like he was searching for something.

“Mr. Keene,” He replied, and Asten made a weird face before he continued: “Dr. Keene’s brother.”

“What? No way,” Nico stated, in such a way that Bentley nearly heard the puzzled expression on his face. “That's crazy weird. I didn’t even know he had a brother.”

Asten blinked at Bentley a few times with a contemplative expression. “Was he nice? I think you can change classes if you don’t want to be in there.”

Bentley shrugged. “He was fine. Nice.”

“So was Dr. Keene, at first,” Nico so unhelpfully added. “I kinda hope the apple falls really, really, really far from… wherever his brother’s apple came from.”

“The pits of hell,” Asten mumbled, and Nico hummed in agreement.

“Ah, yes, that was it,” He continued, and then breathed in sharply. “Oh, speaking of people we used to know -- guess who I saw the other day?”

“Who?” Bentley and Asten asked in unison, sending a quick glance to each other.

“Barry took me to some kind of nerd science expo thing, and Titus was there,”

“Titus Lancaster?” Bentley questioned, leaning a bit closer to the phone. Bentley hadn’t really expected any information to come back to him about Titus Lancaster — as far as he’d known, no one but them knew he was even alive.

“Yeah, the teleporting kid that got us out of Dr. Keene’s murder lab,” Nico explained. “I guess he isn’t really a kid anymore though -- I talked to him a little bit. He’s sixteen now, and emancipated. He does school online and has a job and everything.”

Bentley creased his brow. “Emancipated?”

“It means he’s a legal adult, so he lives alone and does all the things adults do. Bills and shit,” Asten explained quietly.

“Oh,”

“Yeah. He graduated high school last year and is already doing college. Pretty cool if you ask me. I wouldn’t mind moving out on my own,” Nico muttered, a stark contrast to Nico three years ago who nearly had a heart attack sneaking out of his house when his parents weren’t home. “You guys are already out and about by yourselves. How's it feel?”

“Like I should’ve left Gotham way sooner,” Asten replied, and Nico chuckled.

“Bentley?” 

Bentley shrugged even though Nico couldn’t see him. “Different, but… fun.”

“I bet. After being homeschooled again for a few years, I think I’d die for a chance to go to another school,”

Asten snickered, and then continued quietly: “Says the kid literally getting trained to be a superhero by The Flash.”

“Yeah, well I don’t live with every single Gotham vigilante, now do I?”

Bentley and Asten chuckled, and a moment of quiet passed.

“I miss you guys. I don’t really talk to a bunch of teenagers around here. Y’know, ‘cause of Barry stuff.”

Asten raised an eyebrow with an amused expression. “What about your girlfriend?”

There was a moment of stiff silence. “Well, a few days ago she decided she suddenly wanted nothing to do with me anymore. Or the entire state of Missouri, actually -- or America. She up and moved to Beijing to, quote-on-quote, start a new chapter or something.”

“Beijing?” Asten questioned, twisting his face into an appalled look. “Sorry, dude.”

“Nah, it's fine. I’m not gonna wallow about it,” He started. “Anyways, you mentioned roommates, but you never told me about them. Rumor has it you have, like, six?”

“Five, if we don’t count each other. They’re a hoot and a half,” Asten replied. At that precise moment, Koa’s voice came: 

“Ew, get away with that! Don’t die near me!”

Apparently, it was loud enough for Nico to hear, because he snickered: “Sounds like it.”

“Yeah… Koa, who you just heard screaming is, like, fifteen, and has some weird siren powers where everyone dies if they hear him hum. He shares a room with Varian, who makes crystals. I think he’s thirteen,” Asten listen them off, glancing over at Bentley occasionally, who just listened along. “Valor is sixteen, and has huge wings and super strength, and he shares a room with Rockie, who’s fifteen and can, like, suck people's superpowers right out of them. He has to wear these big metal gloves like Davis used to.”

Nico hummed. “You’d think there'd be a more efficient method than putting someone in hand prison.”

“You’d think,” Asten replied. “And the last one is Bellamy. I… don’t know much about him, really, but he doesn’t have a roommate.”

“He’s eleven,” Bentley replied, glancing down at the phone. “And his blood produces poison that has to be filtered out of his veins.”

“Whoa, that's kind of sick,” Nico stated. “They all sound really cool. Are they nice?”

“Yeah. Varian wasted no time at all introducing everyone, because he’s just… real golden-retriever-ish. The only one I haven’t really talked to is Bellamy,” Asten replied. “Oh, and Bentley has, like, four girlfriends.”

“What?!”

“What?!” He and Nico squeaked in unison.

“Kidding. But he has made quite a few girl -- space -- friends,” Asten replied, glancing over and snickering at Bentley’s appalled expression. “They’re actually the only reason we’re here.”

“Oh yeah, the ones that went to the gala you told me about? Layla and V- something?”

“Vera, Yeah, and a few more of their roommates,” Asten replied. “Vera and Layla took him to an ice cream shop the other day. Just him, nobody else.”

Bentley heard Nico hum in contemplation, sounding somewhat amused. “They can’t resist the red hair.”

“Oh, and I almost forgot — there’s a dance on Saturday,” Asten continued, glancing over at Bentley and wiggling his eyebrows at him. “A Sadie Hawkins.”

“Is there?” Nico questioned, and Bentley opened his mouth, but wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Sounds like Bentley’s become quite popular amongst the ladies.”

Bentley sent Asten a dirty, dirty look. “For your information, I actually wasn’t going to go.”

“Whaaat?” Nico started, drawing out the word incredibly long. “Dude! Don’t be like that! Are you going, Asten?”

Then, like a bell that was coming specifically to save Bentley from the insufferable conversation, someone knocked on the doorframe. When Bentley glanced over, he realized he really was saved by the Bell -- because he could see part of Bellamy’s hair through the crack in the door.

“Gotta go, I’ll talk to you soon, Nico,” Bentley stated, hopping off of Asten’s bed with a thump. 

“See you, dude!”

He made for the door and pulled it open (ignoring the fact that he knew he heard Nico and Asten laughing about him in the background), meeting Bellamy’s big brown eyes. He looked… Bentley wasn’t sure. He couldn’t exactly place it. Like he was… afraid to say something. Bentley glanced into the living area and noticed that Koa was still on the couch, but Valor had disappeared, leaving his disaster strewn about the kitchen and a clear, plastic cup of brownish sludge on the dining table. Varian had vanished as well. 

“Hey, Bell. How’d your last class go?” Bentley questioned. Bellamy’s eyes flicked to Asten, who purposefully kept talking to Nico on the phone and paying them zero mind.

“Fine,” He replied. He didn’t elaborate, and Bentley didn’t push him. He glanced around again, back into the sitting area, and then looked down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers. 

“What is it?” Bentley questioned.

Bellamy sent another glance to Asten before, softly, he continued: “I… can you take me to the nurse?”

“What?” Bentley blinked at him, quickly taking in more of his appearance — he wasn’t pale, or sick looking, and he didn’t seem to be in pain or anything. He might’ve reached out and felt his forehead if he wasn’t being wary of physical touch. “What’s wrong? Do you feel bad?”

“No,” Bellamy was quick to reply, lifting an arm and tapping at his wrist where the little machine was humming beneath the sleeve of his blazer. “She has to empty these. After school. Every day.”

“Oh,” Bentley exhaled. “Yeah, I’ll take you. It’s back in the Einstein building, right?”

Bellamy nodded slightly as Bentley poked his head back into his and Asten’s room. “I’ll be back.”

“Wherever you’re going, don’t die,” Asten replied, and Bentley snickered. 

“I’ll try,”

—

The walk to the Einstein building was mostly silent. The campus sidewalks had a few handfuls of students moving to and fro on them, but for the most part, it was pretty quiet. It was still sunny, with big, fluffy clouds floating overhead and a light breeze that came and went.

Bellamy walked silently by Bentley’s side, watching the lines in the sidewalk pass intently. They’d just made it about halfway across campus, halfway toward the Einstein building.

“So, Bellamy, where are you from?” Bentley tried, glancing over at the younger boy. The question seemed to catch Bellamy off guard, because it took him a few moments of glancing around before he worked out the word:

“Seattle,”

“Oh, cool. I’ve heard it’s a nice city,” Bentley replied, careful not to ask about his family or anything that could potentially upset him. “…did you know any of our roommates? Before move-in day?”

“No,” Bellamy answered quickly, staring dutifully at the ground. A little too quickly, but Bentley attributed it to him being uncomfortable about being questioned and decided to stop asking.

Instead, Bentley hummed. “Do you have any questions?”

Bellamy glanced at him, brown eyes wide, then at the winding sidewalks and courtyards around them, his irises bouncing here and there before he finally looked back at him. “Uh… that guy with the blue hair. Is that your brother?”

Bentley smiled lightly. “Asten? No, but it feels like he is. He’s been my best friend for a long time now, and my dad is fostering him.”

“What does that mean?”

Bentley shrugged. “Like… being his dad without actually adopting him and changing his name.”

“Oh,” Bellamy breathed, glancing down at his hands before wiping them on his pants. “He… has an accent.”

“He does. He’s from Brazil. He speaks Portuguese,” Bentley explained, and Bellamy looked back at the sidewalk.

“That’s kind of… cool,”

“Isn’t it?” The redhead questioned, smiling faintly. “Better than just plain old English.”

A moment of quiet passed.

“Can you speak it?” Bellamy continued.

Bentley shook his head, his smile only growing a little with Bellamy’s sudden interest. “No. I can catch a few words here and there, but it's too fast for me. I can only speak English.”

“Varian has an accent, too,” Bellamy continued, glancing up at him, as though he had asked a question that he was waiting on an answer for.

“Yeah, he said he was raised in Russia. As far as I know, he can speak Russian. I haven’t heard him do it, though,” Bentley trailed off, scanning the Shakespeare building as they neared it.

“And Valor has one, too. Does he speak something?”

Bentley shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he’s just British -- people who speak English but say words differently than we do,” He explained. He sort of wondered what Bellamy’s homelife was like, in a place where he didn’t know British people spoke English. Even Bentley had known that, living with his father. 

He chose not to dwell on it.

“Can you make it stop raining?” Bellamy suddenly asked, and Bentley glanced over at him, smiling lightly at the expectant look on his face -- he was, slowly but surely, getting more expressive interaction by interaction. Bentley hoped it continued.

“I can’t make it stop raining, but I can make the drops go wherever I want. Asten’s been using me as a personal umbrella for a few years now. My other siblings, too,” Bentley replied, and a couple of girls passed them on the sidewalk, talking and giggling. “What can you do with your powers?”

“...Not much,” Bellamy glanced down at his hands. After a quiet moment of contemplation, he spoke again: “I can’t control them. My blood just… always makes poison. But it… makes more when my heart’s beating fast. People can get sick from it just by being near me if I don’t have my filters on.”

Bentley hummed in acknowledgement. “I still think it's pretty cool, though.”

They shared glances again, and Bellamy smiled the faintest of smiles. “Thanks…”

Just as fast as the smile had tugged at his mouth, it fled, leaving a solemn look on his face instead.

“What is it?” Bentley questioned. Bellamy shrugged it off, returning his expression to neutrality. He looked away, watching a willow tree pass as they walked.

“If somethings bothering you, you can tell me,” Bentley continued, watching him closely. Bellamy brought his hands together in front of him and fiddled with his fingers anxiously, staring at the ground again.

“Bellamy?”

“There's… this guy,” He started, not looking up at Bentley in the slightest. “He’s in my second and third class. We had to tell everyone about our powers and… now he calls me toad every time he sees me.”

Bentley frowned, a sudden wave of something like anger surging inside of him. “He wouldn’t happen to control plants, would he?”

Bellamy blinked up at him, a confused look crossing his face. “You know him?”

“His name is Tyler Abbott,” Bentley huffed lightly, shaking his head at nothing in particular. “And he seems to like bothering our group. He was… pretty rude to me and Koa today, too.”

“Oh,” Bellamy started, looking back at his feet. “I don’t even think he cares to know my real name, that's just… what he and his friends call me now. My second teacher even thought it was funny and started calling me it, too.”

“What a douchebag,” Bentley muttered with a huff. “I’m sorry, Bell. They’re only doing it to make themselves feel better -- that's pretty much the reason most bullies do what they do. If I ever hear him say it, I’ll tell him to stop.”

“No,” Bellamy shook his head. “I saw him fight someone this morning in second period. I don’t want him to hurt you. I’ll be fine.”

Bentley thought about what to reply to that, but they arrived at the Einstein building just a few moments later, and he let the conversation fade as he pulled the door open for Bellamy. The building had quite a few students in it, bouncing from libraries, to computer labs, to gyms, studios, and the like, while Bentley and Bellamy just shuffled around the hallways toward the medical area.

When they finally arrived, it reminded Bentley of a doctors office, except it was lavishly decorated like the rest of the school. There was a sort of large waiting room lined with fancy, soft chairs, and a hallway that branched off into several rooms. Bentley could see inside of one with an open door -- there was just a bed, a couch, and a countertop. Like a doctor’s office.

A beep sounded through the air when they crossed the threshold into the waiting area, so it must’ve had some kind of motion detector. Bellamy flinched hard at the small unsuspecting sound, pausing in the doorway so abruptly that Bentley accidentally bumped into him.

“Whoa, sorry,” Bentley started, stepping around him toward his side. “They must have a motion detector. To tell the nurses when someone comes in.”

That explanation seemed to put Bellamy a little bit at ease, because he continued into the little waiting area a moment later.

Before they could even think about sitting down, or doing anything, really, a young woman in a white Redwood Academy uniform emerged from the hallway with a clipboard in her hand and a pen behind her ear. She had black hair that was slicked back into a knot, and big gray eyes that flicked between the two of them. “Bellamy, hey there. Coming for a filter change?”

Bentley glanced down at Bellamy, who said nothing. He only looked at her, sort of like he’d looked at their biology teacher that morning -- like she was going to eat him or something. A few moments of quiet staring passed before he muttered: “Yeah...”

“Alrighty then, come on. I’ll check the guts of the machines, too, so we can order you some new ones if we need. I think these should last a while, though,” She started with a smile. Bellamy hesitantly walked toward her, and Bentley followed behind, but the nurse held a hand out towards him. “Sorry, but you’ll need to wait out here -- being around Bellamy with his filters off could make you sick. I’ll make sure to have him back out as soon as possible.”

Bentley blinked twice. “Oh, okay…”

The nurse smiled at him, then reached out and held a hand toward Bellamy, who recoiled away from it slightly. He looked up at Bentley with perhaps the most pitiful little get-me-out-of-here look on his face, that same kind of fear shining in them that he always seemed to have.

“It’s okay, I’ll be right out here,” Bentley replied, sitting down on one of the chairs closest to the hallway. “She said you’ll be back out really soon.”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m only going to be messing with the machines, not you,” The nurse smiled lightly. Bellamy glanced between her and Bentley, who sent him a reassuring smile.

And then he followed her out of the room.

As soon as he was gone, Bentley sighed, slumping back in the chair and fishing his phone out of his blazer pocket. Part of him wondered why Bellamy was so skittish around adults, but the other part sort of didn’t want to know. From what Bentley gathered, not many kids that went to Redwood had happy-slappy backstories. And so far, Bellamy was exhibiting a lot of the behavior that Bentley once had… right after escaping his abusive father.

He didn’t really want to think about what that could mean.

“Oh no! Are you sick on the first day?”

Bentley glanced up just in time to catch Summer’s eyes. She was coming into the medical area with a bulky file folder in her hands. She didn’t have on her blazer, but a dark green crewneck with the Redwood Academy crest embroidered on it in gold. The collar of her button up was folded over the neckline, and it was so long that her pleated skirt hardly peeked out from under it. Instead of the school mandated penny loafers, she was wearing some brown slipper looking things over her tall socks.

He couldn’t help but think about Georgia and Rockie for a moment, but pushed it away the best he could.

Bentley’s eyes traveled back up to her own, which were brown and shining with concern. “No, I’m waiting for Bellamy.”

“Oh, good,” She said with a sigh and a little smile. “It would suck for you to get sick on the first day. Bellamy’s the one with the machines on his arms, right? I think I saw him this morning.”

“Yeah,” Bentley replied. Summer flopped the file down on a chair near the door and sat down in one next to it. “I guess I’m not going to get ahold of the head nurse anytime soon. I think she’s the only one qualified to fiddle with his stuff.”

“You don’t seem very sick. What’re you up to?” Bentley questioned. Summer’s eyes locked onto his, and she smiled.

“Observant much? I help out here after the schooldays. Y’know, fetch stuff for the nurses, heal up sports injuries, stuff like that,” She explained with an easy grin. “It’s, like, my favorite thing.”

“That’s cool,” Bentley replied. 

“Thanks,” She smiled. “I want to be the head nurse here, someday. A weird dream job, isn’t it?”

Bentley shrugged. “I don’t think so. It’s your family’s school, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, my Aunt’s,” Summer replied, fiddling with the bottom hem of her skirt. “I don’t know — I guess I just like it here.”

Bentley said nothing, but glanced down at his feet, at the hardwood for a moment.

“Hey, Summer?”

He glanced back up, and she met his eyes with a questioning look. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Summer rose from her chair and was across the room in a blink, taking up the seat directly to Bentley’s left, instead. “What is it?” 

Bentley shrugged, glancing down at his lap, though he felt Summer’s eyes lingering on his face the whole time.

“Well, I overheard you and Georgia talking the other day…” He started quietly, glancing back down the hall the nurse had gone down to make sure it was empty. “About… her and Rockie. In the lobby of your building.”

Summer said nothing.

When he glanced over at her a few moments later, she looked absolutely horrified. Every hint of positive emotion had vanished from her features, leaving nothing but anxious terror in her brown eyes. Brown eyes that were suddenly really grim and cold.

“I didn’t tell anyone, I swear,” He continued, softly. “I just… I don’t know. Can’t stop thinking about it.”

He heard Summer breathe in and out heavily, and for a while, she didn’t say anything.

“I…” She breathed, running a hand over her face. “I’ve talked to her about it a bunch of times, but it… never seems to help.”

Bentley looked at his hands for a moment. “Why wouldn’t she just… stop dating him?”

Summer shrugged. “She likes Rockie, she really does. She always has and what they have is… special. In its own right. But…”

“But?”

“But he’s pretty closed off. About… y’know. Touching and stuff. She thinks it has to do with his powers, but I don’t really know. So she just… finds guys that’ll… do what he won’t,” Summer explained quietly, not meeting Bentley’s eyes a single time as she spoke, even though his stayed trained on her face. “Once she found out there’s no shortage of them willing to do that kind of stuff with her, she’s sort of… I don’t know. It turned into a habit. Like… guys… or what they’re willing to do with her… became a drug.”

Bentley fiddled with his fingers. “You mean, like… kissing her?”

“And worse,” Summer huffed. (He didn’t know what she meant by that, but he’d let it slide for now.) “She always says… what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Bentley breathed in and out. “Do you think he should know?”

“Absolutely,” She said, with a jerky nod, though she didn’t look at him. “Absolutely, I think he should know. But… Georgia’s been my friend since we were really little, and if I tell him, she’ll… and Rockie’s just so, so in love with her, and… all of it is just going to end in a lot of pain. I’m… not brave enough to cause that.”

Bentley blinked. “I think any way it happens will end with him getting hurt.”

Summer said nothing, but leaned back in the chair, resting her head against the wall. “Am I a bad guy? For not saying anything?”

Bentley didn’t really know how to answer that. Were they wrong for keeping it to themselves? Or were they right because it wasn’t their secret to tell?

Bentley shrugged. “If you're a bad guy, so am I.”

“What do we do?” Summer mumbled, finally glancing over at Bentley, who looked back over at her. For an unreadable amount of time, their eyes lingered on one another.

Then Bentley huffed, turning to look at the wall ahead of them. “I don’t know.”

A long while of silence passed.

“Well, I do have slightly less appalling news,” She said, though she didn’t sound much happier about it. Bentley glanced over at her, and she was taking her turn staring at the wall. “I heard Chloe Singh talking — yelling, really — to her friends about asking some really hot guy to the dance. And then she said that really hot guy was Bentley Wayne.”

Bentley groaned, dropping his head down into his hands to hide the way his face turned red from varying degrees of humiliation. “Whyyyyy?”

He heard Summer snicker. “I take it you’re not interested.”

“She’s so… much. And a jerk, too. I’m not even going to the dance,”

“What?” Summer questioned, continuing dramatically: “Bentley Wayne isn’t planning to experience his first ever riveting high school dance?”

Bentley lifted his head and gave her a withering glare, and she just snorted at it. “What?”

“I’m not going with her,” He huffed. “If I tell her no and still show up, won’t I look like a…”

“Total douchebag? Probably. Just tell her someone else already asked you,” Summer shrugged, amusement coloring her cheeks pink. “Nothing works better than a good old fashioned lie.”

Bentley shrugged. “I don’t want to lie to her.”

A moment of silence passed, and Summer hummed to herself. “Hey, Bentley?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna go to the dance with me?”

Bentley’s eyes snapped over to her, and he thought his brain might’ve fallen out of his head. “Huh?”

Summer stared at him, blank faced for a solid five seconds, before she erupted into quiet laughter.

“There, now you can tell her someone already asked you, without lying,” She replied with a sly little smile. “She doesn’t have to know that the someone, aka me, was planning on spending the entire night blasting sad music through the dorm while my roommates were away.”

“Oh,” Bentley snickered, shaking his head lightly. “Thanks, I guess. For the heart attack.”

Suddenly, Summer’s phone dinged, and she looked down at it with an exhale. “No problemo, Wayne. Looks like I have some more file carrying to do, a very vital job indeed,” She snickered lighty, rising from her chair. “This is the second time I’ve saved you by the skin of your teeth. Be careful--” She moved for the door to the medical area, only glancing back at him for a second. “--If I keep on you might actually owe me that dance.”

Then she disappeared into the hallway, leaving Bentley feeling… strange.

--

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @gayboss-too-close-to-the-sun

@xiaonothere @beatyoutothatusernameloser @skylathescholarly @flyrobinflyy

[keouil]

tender our mourning bones

it's raining the day they bury haibara six feet under. 1k. sashisu. angst. also on ao3.

It’s raining the day they bury Haibara six feet under.

The crunch of Shoko’s heels against the stone pavement is all the noise they hear as they walk towards the parking lot, umbrellas in tow. A storm was brewing on the horizon, the sky a murky grey and rain pelleting down on them like gunshots fired in the distance. The air is thick with the tension of unresolved arguments they’ve been having all week, none of them able to stand each other for longer than an hour before they fell into a screaming match Yaga was tired of meditating. 

Getou is the first to break the silence. He always was. “Whose riding with who?”

Shoko eyes the line of black sedans parked by the tori gates. Men in black uniforms and non-descript Ray Bans were waiting patiently by the door, umbrellas ready and arms poised to usher them in. The higher-ups spared no expense, it seemed. 

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Shoko fixes her hold on the umbrella. “I don’t care.”

Getou turns to Gojo in return, who had his head buried under the giant halo of his umbrella they couldn’t even see his glasses. “Let’s just all go together.”

Getou raises his eyebrow. “Sure that’s a good idea?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Gojo quips back, thinly veiled restraint thawing. 

Shoko regards them both evenly, tired of the hostility but feeling too tired to address it. “Really?” she situates herself between them, glaring slightly. “You guys really wanna do this now?”

Gojo and Getou continue staring each other down, neither of them wanting to back down. They argued all the time, yes; but this was different. This anger was a real, living, breathing thing and Shoko didn’t have enough surgical knives to cut through their tension clean. Let them be bloody, she thought. Let all of us wreak havoc on each other’s death beds.

But instead, for Haibara and Nanami, she tries again. “Seriously?”

Getou breaks eye contact first, blinking away the incense in his eyes and forcing his temper to settle. “Let’s just—” he takes a calming breath. “Let’s just get through this. Christ, it’s one day.”

“Right,” Gojo was already moving towards the nearest car. “We can do one day.”

Getou gestured for Shoko to go ahead, reaching out to hold her umbrella for her. “Take the middle.”

“Wait,” Shoko stopped suddenly in her tracks, looking back and forth between them apprehensively. “What about Nanami? Whose riding with him?”

Both of them paused the moment she did, Gojo had half his body angled towards the door while Getou stilled behind her, waiting patiently. The squelching sound of shoes on mud was a glaring, almost offensive ring against the torrents. Shoko fought a flinch.

“I think he’s with Yaga,” Gojo supplies, tendering his tone once he sensed the growing panic in hers. “Ijichi is with them, too. Don’t worry.”

At this Shoko visibly loosens. “Oh,” she sighs in relief. “Okay then.”

A clap of thunder in the distance. Getou nudged at her to get in while the rain kept coming down all over them, Gojo making space in the car as soon as they all stepped inside. The driver nods at them in recognition before turning on the ignition, the town car roaring to life in the next second.

“We can do this,” Gojo reminds them quietly, voice low in the hiss of the downpour.

It’s a few minutes of tense silence in the car and rain lashing down at the windows as they drive past the wide expanse of the forest, before Shoko replies, voice faint. “Can we really?”

They all exchange looks. Wordlessly, they let the veil of anger that spewed fire all over the school delicate itself to water, recognizing the only one way they were actually going to survive today: together.

Getou squeezes her hand. “We have no choice.”

-

Shoko’s leg shakes the entire ride, fingers itching for a cigarette. Gojo can’t stop triggering his infinity on, his body telling him he was in danger but his soul reminding itself he wasn’t, no actually, it was worse; much worse. Getou can’t look at both of them in the eye altogether, because who made the call to suggest Gojo take over and who delivered the body to Shoko’s gurney?

-

All it takes is one choked sob from Nanami for them to crack.

Immediately Shoko wants to buckle then and there. “Nanami,” she reaches out, her fingers shaking and soaked through the rain. She let the umbrella fall as soon as they heard his first whimper. “Nanami, I’m so—”

Another bawl.

Getou gently guides her back towards them and blankets her with his umbrella. “Not now,” he says gently, tucking her further into him. “He needs to—” he glances briefly at Nanami, but not for too long, because: “Let’s just give him a moment.”

Shoko could barely look on as he was. Nanami lay on his knees just before Haibara’s tombstone, the rain beating down on him and the soil muddying his then pristine suit. His hair and clothes were soaked to the bone and none of them could tell, by that point, which was louder: the lightning or his breaking.

“My God,” they hear Utahime gasp some rows behind them, shell-shocked and pained. “Do we—I mean. Are we just gonna let him go on like this?”

“I don’t think we have much of a choice,” Gojo replies quietly, rubbing a consoling hand on Shoko’s back. “He’s not going to get up even if we make him.”

Shoko’s eyes are still a little glazed when Getou turns to look at her. Trying to meet her eye, whispers gently, “You still know none of this is your fault, right?”

Shoko scoffs a little, a watery cruel thing. “Tell that to the higher-ups."

“Yaga’s working on it,” Getou reminds her. “You weren’t prepared to take this on. None of us were.”

“Whatever,” Shoko shrugs out of his hold, looking on somberly at the sakura petals filtering down into the graveyard. “Haibara’s still dead and I wasn’t able to heal him. Which of you can say the same?”

In the end it’s Getou who stands and waits however long in the rain, holding an umbrella out for Nanami. In the end it’s Gojo who wants so badly to put the strength down for once, but still helps Nanami back up when his knees have all but burrowed itself into the mud, and their kouhai all of seventeen planted his soul in the soil and watched it slowly unfurl against the raging downpour that thrashed almost as loudly and violently as their collective grief.

Almost.

-

The izakaya in Omoide Yokocho is cleaned out by the time they get there past midnight.

“Another one,” Shoko calls out to the owner, gesturing blindly at her empty sake cup. “Or you know what, make that two.”

Getou eyes the empty bottles of umeshu haphazardly strewn about their table. “Haven’t you had enough—”

“Don’t start with me,” warns Shoko, downing the cup in one go and grimacing after. “Not today, Getou. Play mother hen any other day but just. Fuck off today.”

Getou could do nothing but watch her drink the grief away, one sake shot at a time. “Okay,” he says, softer now, pushing his plate of edamame towards her. And then adds again, this time when he meets her eyes and she was looking at him quizically at the sudden gentleness: “I’m sorry.”

Shoko blinks, and suddenly he can see some of her again. “No, I’m—” she starts woefully. “Sorry, I—I know I’m being a bitch today. I can’t help it.”

“Better you be a bitch to us than Ijichi,” Gojo mumbles from her other side, looking down at his untouched yakitori. “Or else he’ll start crying again.”

They turn their heads towards him, unbelieving.

“Too soon?” Gojo looks up.

“Fuck you,” Shoko curses at him.

Gojo steals some of her tsukemono. “Let it out, Shoko. Just let it out.”

Rain is still gushing down all over Shinjuku, the small curtain separating them from the outside soaked through and lapping against their backs. Gojo and Getou can barely fit into the small stools and Shoko keeps chasing her grief down to the last sip of the beer bottle only to find it empty, and they are angry at themselves and angry at the world, and they can barely stand each other because how could they; Gojo should have taken the mission, Shoko should have saved Haibara, and Getou should have been stronger to prevent any of it from happening. 

They all blamed themselves, and in turn, blamed each other. 

But no one else will understand.

So instead:

“Whatthehell,” Shoko slurs, holding up the empty bottle of sake and peering into its depleted contents. Swearing again, she had her arm braced to throw it against the wall, before Getou grabbed it out of her hands in time. “Easy now.”

Shoko deflated back into her chair, staring into space for three seconds before her head fell to the table in a dramatic flop. Gojo only barely managed to sandwich a wad of paper napkins to blanket her fall.

“Jesus Christ,” Gojo breathes out. “She hasn’t been this drunk since our year-end party.”

“Can you blame her?” Getou shrugs his jacket into her shoulder. “The kid died on her operating table. Nanami couldn’t stop himself from taking it out on her when she had to break the news.”

Gojo flicks a speck of tempura away from Shoko's hair, not saying anything.

Getou eyes him. “Oi,” he calls out.

“What?” Gojo snaps at him, meeting his eyes. “I heard you.”

“I know you did, I just—” Getou searches for the words. This quiet and this late the rain was defeaning. “I just remembered I haven’t told you yet.”

“Told me what?”

Getou looks him squarely in the eye, the most lucid he's felt all day. “That it’s not your fault, either.”

Gojo just holds his stare, unbelieving and griefed out. “Tell that to these eyes.”

[curiousquill1]

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Common Misconceptions and Clarifications

Many people believe that the Spheronizer technology is only associated with the pharmaceutical industry. Although it is useful for the pharmaceutical industry , the VJ instruments Spheronizer can be  used in chemical , cosmetic , and even the food industry, where uniform particle shaping is vital.

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[dollsonmain]

So Son and I found a bunch of these things on the side of the road while doing trash pick up and we can't figure out what they are. Lens thinks they're rough cut emeralds and no they are NOT.

I think they're some sort of chemical pellet like something that's meant to be mixed into a big tank of water for herb- or pesticide purposes or a fertilizer. They're all uniform in shape and size, and about 6inches long.

They were crumbly, green on one side and brown on the other.

And no, neither of us touched them. We have a grabber and gloves.

[westdallasgang]

Bonnie and Clyde raid the Eastham Prison Farm:

At 6am on January 16, 1934, the gang slipped quietly in their black Ford V-8 through the dense fog rising from nearby the Trinity River. With lights extinguished, the Ford parked just beyond a narrow bridge. Clyde and James stepped out with loaded BARs tucked under their arms, capable of firing a 20-round clip of 30.06 armor-piercing shells in less than 3 seconds. The two men crouched along the creek bank and waited. At 7am Clyde detected movement beyond them. The ghost-like images of a line of prisoners slowly materialized in the distance. The white denim of their prison uniform glowed with an eerie radiance. Guards bearing weapons accompanied the line. Soon the field was covered with prison work crews, each preparing to clear the land for the spring planting and cutting wood to stoke the camp stoves. Guard Olan Bozeman had already noticed Ray moved from his own group and joined Joe Palmer, Henry Methvin, and Hilton Bybee.

The guard chose not to take action. Until they moved farther. He then called for a mounted guard to hold a gun on Ray so that he could be whipped with a trace chain, just as he had planned. At that point, the men were less than a 100 feet from the creek where Clyde and James were hiding. Major Joseph Crowson, who had repeatedly beaten Joe in the past, was called on by Bozeman. While the two guards conversed, Joe walked up as if to ask a question. He turned to Crowson, leveled his gun, and fired a single round into the guard's stomach, knocking him off his horse. Crowson died instantly. Shocked at what just occured, Bozeman pulled the trigger at Joe. Joe ducked just as a charge of buckshot sailed past his head, a lone pellet creasing his temple. Joe fired two shots. A bullet teared the shotgun from Bozeman's hands and another wounding him in the hip.

Ray fired one shot when the clip popped from its housing and tumbled to the muddy ground. Virtually disarmed, Ray searched for his clip in the mud as Joe helplessly fought it out alone. Clyde and James then reared up and fired shots above the heads of the startled men in the field. While guards and prisoners alike were diving on their stomachs, Ray, Joe, Henry, and Hilton ran for their life. Bonnie sounded the car horn from the getaway car, using it as a beacon for the fleeing men. 3 guards started running as fast as they could in the opposite direction, leaving the 4 of them unguarded. Taking advantage of this, a convict named J.B. French slipped quietly into the pines and made his way to the Trinity River on foot. He was captured the following day without ever meeting the men responsible for his brief taste of freedom.

"Nobody but Ray and Joe can get in the car," James called out. "Everybody else go back." Clyde snapped. "You shut your damned mouth, Mullens, this is my car! I'm handling this!" The fleeing men jumped in the vehicle. As the distant whine of prison sirens came closer, Clyde shifted to first and sped away. Roadblocks sprang up in nearly every town between Dallas and Crockett, but Clyde outflanked them all by driving cross-country through farm after farm. In Hillsboro, TX, Clyde stopped for gas. The attendant spoke excitedly as he serviced the getaway car. "Did you hear about Ray Hamilton escaping from prison?" he asked. "No, really?" Clyde said. "Yeah! Bonnie and Clyde just walked right into the dining room this morning and took Ray out while everybody was eating!" Bonnie and Clyde were amused. As they fled Texas, the gang switched vehicles often. They decided to rob a bank to pay James his $1,000. The gang eventually split and went their seperate ways until things cooled down. Hilton was the only one who got captured and was sent back to prison.

[separatedleoau]

I'm pairing these together because they are kind of related

Prices? not really, he did give one his blue scarf and gave in to addinig blue accents to his uniform because he likes blue

As One grew up Draxum kept track of his growth and his physical needs, how much he needs to eat, to sleep, etc. etc. So he he build up a special diet so One can have all the nutrients he needs. What exactly? I have no idea lmao

The turtle pellets is fun so yeah, as a very small turtle that's probably all he are, but as he grew bigger he was proven to need more than that. Also now I'm imagining One snaking on turtle pellets so is canon now that he keeps some around to snack on

there was a post with a whole "anatomical study" of the rise turtles and I think it mentioned something about how it would make sense for them to eat so much pizza because they need a lot of carbs on their diet or something like that. idk if it would actually make sense but it resonated with me and made me go "yeah, canon now" so yeah, I guess his diet does consist in a lot of carbs but whatever Draxum considers more "healthy"

(I'm gonna try to find that post to link it here)

As a kid he wasn't really allowed to eat candy (the goyles still gave him some if he kept quiet and didn't tell the boss), for the most part he is actually very disciplined when it comes to keeping his diet (occasionally breaking it because of the goyles bad influence and later on because of the Mad Dogs)

And Draxum does let him eat whatever he wants on Fridays, he chooses pizza most of the time but he also goes to the Hidden City's market sometimes to pick something up with the goyles.

Baby One my beloved

One mimicking the goyles is adorable and it fits into the "he learnt to call Draxum "Boss" from them" thing I've already said so yeah!

As adorable as him leting them sleep on his bed is, the little menace would see them on the doggy bed, think is comfy and climb there and kick the goyles out and claim the bed as his. This happened multiple times, the goyles always ended up kicking him out of there

One trying to eat the goyles? no. the goyles trying to eat tiny One? yes

Draxum would just put him somewhere he could not get out from (baby jail lmao) and leave him there until One's tantrum passed. Sometimes he would leave him there for hours while One cried his little heart out :(

I've already talked a bit about this here but I have ✨New Thoughts✨ so this is One's insomnia part 2: electric boogaloo or as I like to call it "is not a bug, is a feature"

Basically since Draxum lost his other experiments, One becomes the "standard" of what he could have got from the other turtles and any other mutation experiment with Lou's DNA he wished could have make.

While growing up Draxum realized One was developing at the same rate a human would would, so he would compare what a human should be able to do and andure at those ages with One.

As One grows and his problems with sleep start showing uo, Draxum at first would try to force him to keep his usual sleeping schedule, but then realizes One's sleeping "problems" could not be a problem at all, it migh be a result from the mutation he had not contemplated.

He made the mutagen specifically to create an army and what's best than having soldiers who can be more hours active, who don't need to waste so much time on resting or sleeping?

[jonphaedrus]

new winter, new chapstick. how to make your own chapstick:

scent, if you want it. i use a vanilla coffee essential oil thingy

a chapstick holder, empty (or reused) chapstick tubes and caps

a cup you dont mind fucking up (mine is from the dollar store)

beeswax

shea butter

coconut oil

step 1: fill pot with water and start heating

step 2: put beeswax (either pellets or chopped up cubes), shea butter, coconut oil, and scent (if wanted) into cup, about 10 drops of the scent. do it in a ratio of about 1:2:2 of beeswax/shea butter/coconut oil (or it will be very hard)

step 3: put cup in the pot and let it double boil until everything is melted. hang out. pet your cat. stir occasionally

step 4: once everything is melted into a uniform goo, pick cup up, pour resulting potion into potion holders (chapstick tubes) in their chapstick holder on top of wax paper

that's it.

[a2zskills123]

Forming of plastic goat || A2Z SKILLS

In industrial manufacturing, the process of forming objects like plates, bottles, and other everyday items involves intricate procedures designed to transform raw materials into finished products efficiently and precisely. One of the most common methods used is injection molding, particularly for items such as bottles. This process begins with melting plastic pellets, which are then injected into a mold cavity under high pressure. The mold shapes the molten plastic into the desired form, cooling and solidifying it to create the final product.

For plates and other flat objects, processes like stamping or pressing are often employed. Stamping involves using a die and press to cut or shape metal sheets into the desired plate shape. This method is ideal for producing large quantities of uniform plates quickly and economically. Pressing, on the other hand, can involve forming materials such as ceramics or even plastics into plates through compression in specialized molds.

Across these manufacturing processes, precision and consistency are paramount. Modern industries rely heavily on automated systems and robotics to ensure that each item meets exacting standards of quality and uniformity. Furthermore, sustainability concerns drive innovation towards using recycled materials and minimizing waste throughout production cycles.

Ultimately, the formation of objects in industrial settings is a blend of advanced technology, engineering expertise, and a commitment to efficiency and sustainability, ensuring that everyday items like plates and bottles are produced reliably to meet global demand.

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[cephalopod-yaoi]

ok so i was braining

octo expansion prequel taking place in the 1980s of the mollusc era at the very start of tartar’s plan. the metro is active but the many stations are under construction. the earliest of tartar’s subjects are run through each chamber to test how easy they are, so it can improve them as well as possible. tartar hasnt made the cq cumbers yet, nor does it have enough primordial ooze to make sanitized octarians en masse yet. it also hasnt even perfected sanitization, so the many stations are puzzle based and offer stuff to do outside of fighting enemies. when there are enemies, theyre borrowed pieces of octarian machinery. you can also do plenty of chores throughout the metro like janitorial duty, organizing metro patrons’ luggage, metro security, et cetera.

seeing as there is no device to regulate what weapons subjects bring into the metro, the current subject uses their octarian ingenuity to modify their weapons with scrap. the various attachments increase fire rate, lower pellet spread, add explosive rounds, and more. speaking of the current subject, that would be subject 80. thats right the 80th EVER subject to enter the deepsea metro. their hair is based off of the trends of the 80s, tentacles styled into a permed mullet tied behind them to keep it out of their eyes. they also don the kamabo co uniform used at the time. a sleeveless jumpsuit with shorts, leg warmers, and heavy duty boots. their ink tank comes with a charging port for a trusty drone.

they may not have cq cumber, but they do have a helpful drone dubbed CQ79. the drone was created by tartar to record data as test subjects run through the many chambers and complete puzzles. the drone also researches the ways memcakes can be utilized. it isnt permitted to assist the player too heavily during the levels but if a gauge is charged or an amount of points is paid, it can act as a grapplink. it can also put up a forcefield similar to a big bubbler, self destruct, and cause an emp to shut down active machinery. speaking of self destructing that is EXACTLY what it will do if you fail your current objective.

cq79 has plenty of odd music saved in its database, human music archived by the creator of tartar to pass down to the next dominant species. subject 80 can listen to music it has no clue is ancient, spoken in languages they can not for the life of them understand. cq79 plays songs previous subjects favored.

each level is labeled with a code. its usually a lengthy string of numbers, and thats FAR too difficult to say, so cq79 has recorded the many, many goofy names previous subjects have given each station. with no cq cumbers to conduct the metro, tartar itself controls the train. you and cq79 will enter the train after each successful level and move to the engine to give the data recorded to tartar. you may notice the telephone has begun speaking in an odd manner, claiming that previous subjects thought the way it spoke was “too boring.”

i have a lot of other stuff in the brain maybe ill add it later but not rn

[substantial-gains]

"OUURRRRRRRPPP!! Brrrrrrr...BOOUUUURRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPP!!!"

Kairi's gut had busted out of her uniform about 10 minutes ago, the buttons from her white shirt being shot across the room like pellets from a rapid fire bb gun. That massive muffin top overhang has all but consumed the top of her lap and a good part of the table, and she's just breathlessly wheezing.

A customer said that even the former athlete couldn't finish off the menu three times over at her weight due to the cafe's rather generously large portion sizes, as a joke mind you, and she took personal offense to that. Never tell this landwhale what she can and can't do-