#circular drive landscaping

[mel12da]

Cleveland Driveway An example of a large transitional full sun front yard driveway in summer.

[dailybruce]

Tampa Traditional Exterior Example of a large classic gray three-story stucco exterior home design with a shingle roof

[motherofdogs1010]

A Jedi in Arrakis (Paul Atreides x Reader)

Summary: While on the run from Empire troops, Jedi padawan Y/N comes to find out that hyper-driving in a compromised craft can have some major setbacks when she discovers not only is on a new planet but a whole new galaxy as well...

Warnings: jedi!reader, eventual 18+, NSFW, angst, fluff, eventual smut/pinv!sex, oral sex, talks of questioning the Force and teachings, more to come as story progresses

A/N: Like Ahsoka, I left Reader to have white, which means they are neutral and I feel Anakin would have taught any other padawans to be neutral when it came to the Force. The type of lightsaber Reader has for any photo reference is the same type Darth Maul has!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Part II

She had e/c eyes that looked at him softly as she laid beside him; the white silk she wore over her body showing the curves she possessed as she reached a hand out and caressed his cheek.

"Paul", she softly said, her skin tanned and soft.

Her hair fell around her and framed her face as she blinked.

"Paul..."

Her voice lulled him before he heard a humming, a buzz of electricity coming to light before a white light took over, shielding him from her...

🪐

In a galaxy far, far away...

Hands gripping the steering wheel of her craft, Y/N looked at the controls to see if hyperdrive was even possible and saw that it was not yet as she dodged another Imperial craft shooting at her.

"BB, you better hold onto your metal butt", she called out to her robotic companion.

BB-1 was a BB prototype similar to the R2-D2 design with the little robot being circular and having a teal color scheme; she heard the little robot let out a squeak as it rolled to secure itself to something.

Y/N hadn't thought of the Empire being on Dantooine but she thought wrong; she had been sent there by her Jedi Master, Anakin while Ahsoka (her fellow padawan/classmate) was sent to assist in the Clone Wars on the field. This intel was supposed to be useful to the Rebellion against the Clone War and Y/N knew if she was captured, that could only result in terrible things.

"BB", she said as she dodged a meteor in their path. "Connect to the database and upload what we got then delete everything."

BB let out a little beep followed by a whirling noise before getting to the task as she saw the Storm Troopers still on their path.

It was an agonizing five minutes of waiting for BB to upload the data, hearing an excited beep from BB as she had just winced as their craft was hit with another beam from the Storm Trooper craft just as she saw that hyperdrive was possible as the system alerted her of all the damage.

"Alright, BB!" she said, looking over her shoulder. "Now really hold on to your metal butt! It's going to be bumpy!"

BB let out a whirl of noises just as she hit the button for hyperdrive...

Her head was pounding as heard BB's concerned noises before she heard the beeping of the ship and opening her eyes with a gasp and looking around, it all rushing back to her of the system failure during hyperdrive, her trying to navigate as they were descending fast onto an unknown planet.

"Hold on, BB", she said, "let me... let me grab my-"

She grasped at her side where her lightsaber was clipped as she un-clipped herself from her seat, standing up as she winced from the headache; BB came towards her and beeped, Y/N patted its round little head as she went to the door of the ship, hitting the button to open it but saw wouldn't budge.

With a sigh, Y/N went to where her supplies pouch was and making sure she had plenty of water and food before activating her lightstaber, its white energy glowing as she stuck it into the metal of the door, doing her best of welding it open.

And with success she did as she managed to budge the door open to show a endless desert with hot air that hit her in the face; it reminded her of Tatooine with its similar landscape except she would say Tatooine had more rocky structures than this place.

"Where are we, BB?" she voiced as she stepped out.

The sun was hot against beige tunic and she frowned under the force of the heat, looking at BB before putting her hands on her hips.

"I guess let's do some exploring, huh?"

🪐

It was hard walking through all the sand, making sure she didn't stumble as she walked. And it was pretty boring considering there was just sand and oh, more damn sand; she wondered why it looked like the sand glittered at some points as her and BB continued their journey before her eyes widened at the sight of a large machine that reminded her of AT-AT Walkers except this one was larger in width and was... digging into the sand?

Either way, that had to mean that people were around as she began to jog towards there considering that it was so close.

BB rolled easily over the sand as they heard the sound of aircrafts and looking up, she saw two that resembled a bug, a dragonfly really. It hovered in the air as if it was looking over the machine and she squinted as she looked before beginning to feel the ground begin to shake violently to the point that she was knocked over.

Looking around, her first thought was a Nightwatcher worm and she looked at the machine as she begun to run with BB following closely; she held her lightstaber in her hand, her pouch bouncing as she ran with all her might to the machine.

Paul watched as the dust cloud grew as the sandworm quickly approached the Harvester, his father arguing that it was better to save the men on the Harvester than prioritize the Spice.

"Forget the Spice, we need those men", Leto argued and Paul's eyes squinted as he saw two figures running towards the Harvester.

"Look there", Paul pointed, his father leaned and looked.

"It's a girl and a... robot?" he said.

A.I. and anything of that nature had been banned in the Empire since the great war against A.I. so many centuries ago so it was curious as to who this was.

"How many men are on that?" his father asked.

"21", Shadout responded. "23 with the girl and the robot."

"We can only carry 6 on each ship", Paul mentioned.

"We'll make it work", his father confidently said.

🏜️

She was right that machine would draw in people as it was being evacuated as the sandworm was coming closer. BB was squealing as the sandworm was hot on their trail before she panted, "Go, BB! I'll hold it off!"

BB squealed and she said, "Go! I'll be there too!"

Turning around, she panted as she sucked in a breath and held her hand out, focusing her mind on the Force and its power as the creature closer. She felt vindicated as she saw the creature hit a invisible wall, panting and sweating as she held back the creature, the heat exhaustion getting to her as she tried her best to keep the creature back as black began to spot into her vision.

Suddenly, a hand gripped her shoulder and she looked to find two men: one around her age with handsome, pale features and dark curled hair, and an older man with greying hair.

"Come on, follow us", the older man said, she nodded.

With a final push of the Force, she ran behind the men onto one of the ships, stumbling but gleefully cheering once she saw BB there, who twirled in happiness and squealed.

"BB", she said, the robot rolling to her and she hugged it. "I told you I'd make it."

BB let out noises and she laughed.

"You understand that?" a man asked.

"Don't you?" she asked as she stood. "Where am I?"

"You're on Arrakis", a older man with thick dark hair and a facial beard said. "I'm Duke Leto of House Arrakis and this is my son, Paul. Do you mind telling me where you're from?"

"Arrakis? I've never heard of it", she mumbled, "I'm Y/N L/N from Naboo. What star system is this?"

"Canopus", Leto said and Y/N's eyes widened. "Where is this Naboo? I've never heard of such a planet in the Empire?"

Y/N now realized where she was as BB let out a concern noise. They weren't just in an entirely different solar system, they were in an entirely different galaxy...

[emjayewrites]

turkey day • jules koundé one shot

SYNOPSIS: Jules experiences his first American Thanksgiving.

WARNINGS: cursing, family stuff, and abundance of thanksgiving food, fluff, boyfriend!jules

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Maya Richardson (fc @/Ebonee Davis)

TAGLIST: @hopefulromantic1 @lettersofgold @sinflowersugar @mauvecherie-writes @queenshikongo3 @perfecttrashface @alika-4466 @peyiswriting @leilaxaliel @serpenttines-library @certifiedlesbianbaddie @niahxo @julescpu @jack0357 @chaoticcoffeequeen @greedyjudge2 @yeea-nah @saturnville @taytropicana @trentswrld @cranberryjulce @vile-harlot @2serenity0 @elyseesarchive @peaceiswonderful

A/N: I will be gone/offline on Thanksgiving so I figured to write something for y’all for Jules. Also thank you for 2,500 followers!!! This is insane ����

Jules Koundé checked his watch for the third time in as many minutes, his carry-on Rimowa suitcase beside him as he waited in the private terminal of Barcelona-El Prat Airport. The early morning November air was crisp, and his mind wandered between the upcoming match against Las Palmas and the whirlwind journey he was about to embark on. Forty-eight hours in Atlanta – just enough time to experience his first American Thanksgiving with his girlfriend Maya's family before rushing back for the game.

"You know you don't have to come," Maya had said when he first suggested the trip. "My family will understand." But Jules had insisted. After dating for a year and a half, mostly long-distance while she finished her PhD in International Relations at Oxford, he wanted to meet the family she spoke about with such warmth and humor in their late-night FaceTime calls.

The private jet, arranged by the club, would make the tight schedule possible. As he settled into his seat, Jules pulled out his phone to reread Maya's latest text: "Daddy's already planning to show you 'real' football 😂 Just smile and nod, baby. Just smile and nod."

The flight passed in a blur of sleep, movies, and light training exercises in the cabin. When they touched down at Hartsfield-Jackson, Maya was waiting in a private lounge, wrapped in a cream-colored pullover that complemented her dark skin perfectly. Her braids were styled differently than when he'd last seen her three weeks ago in Barcelona, now arranged in an elegant updo.

"Bienvenue à Atlanta," she said with an exaggerated French accent that made him laugh as he pulled her into an embrace then kiss to her temple.

"Your accent is terrible," he murmured into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent of her Shea Moisture hair products.

"Yeah, well, your English was terrible when we first met, so we're even," she teased, leading him toward the parking garage where her car waited.

The drive to her parents' house in the affluent suburb of Cascade Heights took them through Atlanta's ever-changing landscape. Maya pointed out landmarks from her childhood – her old high school, the church where her grandfather had preached for forty years before retiring, the soul food restaurant where her family gathered after every major event.

"Now remember," she said as they turned onto a tree-lined street of impressive homes, "my Daddy's gonna try to intimidate you because that's just what he does. Mama will try to feed you until you burst. And my brothers..."

"Will try to determine if I'm worthy of their baby sister," Jules finished, having heard this warning before. "And your grandfather will question my profession."

"Exactly. And with all my cousins coming..." She glanced at him apologetically. "It might get a little overwhelming."

Jules reached over to squeeze her hand. "I play in front of 90,000 people at Camp Nou. I think I can handle your family."

Maya's laugh was cut short as they pulled into a circular driveway where several cars were already parked. "We'll see about that."

The door opened before they reached it, and a statuesque woman who could only be Maya's mother emerged, arms outstretched. "This must be Jules!"

Dr. Angela Richardson, a respected cardiothoracic surgeon, enveloped Jules in a warm hug before he could even attempt a formal greeting. "Come in, come in! Everyone's dying to meet you!"

By "everyone," she apparently meant the small crowd gathered in the two-story foyer. Maya's father, Miles Richardson, stepped forward first – a tall man with graying temples and an athletic build that suggested his college football days weren't too far behind him. His handshake was firm but not challenging, his smile genuine if slightly reserved.

"Welcome to our home, young man. Maya tells us you play... soccer?" The slight pause before "soccer" made Jules bite back a smile.

"Yes, sir. For Barcelona and the French national team."

"Hmm," was all Miles said, but Jules caught the slight widening of his eyes at the mention of the national team. From what Maya had told him, her father had made it to the NFL combine before a knee injury ended his career, so he at least understood the significance of representing one's country.

The introductions continued in a whirlwind: Maya's twin brothers Miles Jr. ("MJ") and Michael, both successful attorneys; their wives; a handful of young children who regarded Jules with wide-eyed curiosity; and finally, her grandparents.

Reverend Richardson, Maya's paternal grandfather, was a commanding presence despite his advanced years. "So," he said, peering at Jules over his glasses, "They call it football over there. Is that true?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, we're about to watch some real 'football'. Lions versus Bears. Traditional Thanksgiving game. You might learn something."

Maya's grandmother, Ernestine, swatted his arm. "James, leave that boy alone. He's tired from his flight." She turned to Jules with a warm smile. "You just ignore him, sugar. Now, have you eaten? You look too skinny."

Before Jules could respond, Maya intervened. "Grandma, he's a professional athlete. He has to maintain his weight."

"Professional athlete?" came a new voice as one of Maya's cousins entered the foyer. "Man, what you bench press?"

Jules exchanged an amused glance with Maya. This was going to be interesting.

The next few hours passed in a blur of activity. The women congregated in the kitchen, putting final touches on tomorrow's feast, while the men gathered in the massive family room around a television that seemed larger than some movie screens Jules had seen. The Bears-Lions game played out before them, and Jules found himself genuinely interested in the strategic elements of American football, even if the constant stops and starts felt foreign to him.

"See, now that's football," Reverend Richardson commented during a particularly impressive touchdown play. "None of that running around for ninety minutes without scoring."

"Actually, Papa," Maya's brother Michael chimed in, "I looked up some of Jules' highlights. Man's got skills." He pulled out his phone and pulled up a compilation video of some of Jules' best defensive plays and goals for Barcelona.

The room fell silent as they watched Jules execute a perfectly timed sliding tackle before launching a counterattack that led to a goal. Even Reverend Richardson leaned forward in his seat.

"Well, I'll be damned," he muttered, then quickly corrected himself. "Lord forgive my language. But son, that was impressive."

Jules ducked his head modestly. "Thank you, sir."

The evening wound down with a lighter dinner of soup and sandwiches, everyone saving room for tomorrow's feast. As they prepared for bed – Jules in the guest room, Maya down the hall in her childhood bedroom, her father's rules being what they were – Maya slipped in to say goodnight.

"You survived day one," she said, perching on the edge of his bed.

"Your family is wonderful," he replied honestly. "Loud, but wonderful."

"Just wait until tomorrow when everyone else shows up."

The next morning dawned bright and clear. Jules woke early, maintaining his training schedule with a light workout in the Richardsons' home gym, where he found Maya's father already on the treadmill.

"Early riser?" Miles asked.

"Have to be, sir. Game day or not, routine is important."

Miles nodded approvingly. They exercised in comfortable silence until Maya appeared in the doorway, still in her pajamas, looking between them with suspicious amusement.

"Y'all better get ready. Mama's already in the kitchen, and the first wave of family will be here in two hours."

Jules showered and dressed carefully in dark chinos, a teal cashmere sweater, and polished brown dress shoes. When he emerged from the guest room, he caught Maya staring.

"You clean up nice," she said, drinking in the sight of him. She'd changed into a burgundy wrap dress that made Jules momentarily forget about football, family, and everything else. "I can say the same about you, bébé."

She giggled as he pulled her in for a kiss. Her lips slanted against his, feeling pillowy soft and addictive as usual. Jules let out a satisfied groan as he felt her fingers caress his chest, but it dissolved quickly to a huff when she pulled away.

"My family, baby," was her response and she fixed his sweater. "We can’t get too carried away."

True to Maya's warning, the house soon filled with extended family. Cousins, aunts, uncles, and family friends streamed in, each carrying dishes and each wanting to meet "Maya's French soccer player." Jules lost count of the handshakes, hugs, and variations of "Boy, you really got an accent, don't you?"

The Thanksgiving meal itself was a revelation. Jules had researched American Thanksgiving traditions, but nothing had prepared him for the sheer abundance of food or the specific traditions of a Southern Black family's celebration. Before eating, everyone joined hands as Reverend Richardson said grace, a lengthy prayer that touched on everything from family bonds to the state of the world to blessing "this young man who's traveled so far to be with us today."

The food was unlike anything Jules had experienced: deep-fried turkey ("Better than that dry oven-baked stuff," Maya's uncle insisted), collard greens, cranberry sauce, fresh homemade biscuits, mac and cheese that three different aunties claimed was their specialty, yams, and dishes whose names Jules couldn't quite catch but whose flavors exploded on his tongue.

"You got to put hot sauce on those greens," Maya's cousin Brandon advised, sliding a bottle of Crystal hot sauce his way. "Trust me."

Throughout the meal, Jules found himself fielding questions about his career, his family back in France, and his intentions toward Maya. The last topic came primarily from her brothers and male cousins, delivered with smiles that didn't quite hide their protective instincts.

"So, when you planning to make an honest woman of our Maya?" her cousin Marcus asked, causing Maya to choke on her sweet tea.

"Leave them alone," Maya's mother intervened. "They're young, they're taking their time."

But Jules caught the interested glance she threw his way and made a mental note to speak with Maya's father at his next visit. The small velvet box hidden in his home back in Barcelona suddenly felt more real.

After the meal, while the women managed the cleanup with military precision ("Don't you even think about helping, baby," Maya's grandmother shooed him away), Jules found himself in the family room surrounded by Maya's cousins. They'd shifted to sports talk, with him explaining the Champions League system to increasingly interested listeners.

"So it's like March Madness, but for a whole season?" one of Maya's cousins, Amir, asked.

"Kind of, yes," Jules nodded. "But with the best clubs from all over Europe."

"And you play for one of the best ones?"

"Barcelona is... yes, one of the best," Jules admitted modestly.

"My man!" Several of the cousins exchanged high fives and daps, apparently deciding that dating a player from one of Europe's elite clubs made Maya's choice acceptable.

"Alright, alright, you listen to music, Jules?” another one of Maya's cousins, DeAndre, leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. "What rappers you listening to?"

Jules straightened up, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Probably the same as you."

This got a round of laughs, but Trey, who'd been quiet until now, smirked and said, "Well, I guess old Kanye was right – 'niggas do be in Paris.'"

The room erupted in laughter, and Jules couldn't help but join in, appreciating how quickly they'd made him feel like part of the family. Marcus then leaned forward, squinting at Jules intently.

"You know, now that I'm really looking at you... you look just like J. Cole."

MJ walked in at that moment, balancing his second helping of sweet potato pie. "Man, just because he's light skin and got dreads doesn't mean he look like J. Cole," he said, shaking his head as he settled into an armchair. "So, Jules, how you liking Atlanta so far? First time here, right?"

"Yes, but my best friend Aurélien visited before. He said he loved it." Jules nodded, shifting in his seat. "I'm enjoying it a lot," he continued, choosing his words carefully. "I really like how Black it is here. It's different from Europe. Though I'm disappointed I won't get to see Maya's alma mater, Clark Atlanta, this trip."

"Man, you gotta come to Homecoming next year!" DeAndre exclaimed. "That's when Atlanta really shows out."

Jules smiled, genuine interest crossing his face. "I'll check my schedule. The football calendar is pretty rigid, but maybe during the international break..."

"So what did your boy Aurélien think about Atlanta?" Trey asked, a knowing look in his eye. "What spots did he hit up?"

Jules scoffed, shaking his head as memories of his conversations with Aurélien from three years ago flooded back. He tried his best to censor himself, careful with his words. "He, uh... he really enjoyed the food. Especially the lemon pepper wings..."

The cousins and Maya’s brothers exchanged knowing looks, immediately catching the careful way Jules was choosing his words. Marcus started laughing first.

"Magic City’s wings, huh?" he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"The wings..." Jules maintained diplomatically, though a smile tugged at his lips. "Aurélien has a... particular appreciation for certain aspects of Atlanta culture."

"Oh, you mean big booties," Trey said plainly, causing everyone to burst out laughing again.

MJ nearly choked on his sweet potato pie. "Y'all are terrible. Don't go telling our grandparents about your friend's 'cultural appreciation.'"

Jules raised his hands in mock surrender. "Listen, I just came for Thanksgiving dinner and family time. What Aurélien did on his own time..."

"Man speaks facts," DeAndre nodded approvingly. "But for real though, when you come back for Homecoming, we're gonna show you the real Atlanta. The clean version," he added quickly as MJ shot him a look. "Can't have Maya coming for our necks."

The next morning brought another new experience: Black Friday shopping. Maya insisted it was a crucial part of the American Thanksgiving experience, though Jules suspected she just wanted to see his reaction to the chaos. They joined her mother and sisters-in-law at the crack of dawn, fighting crowds at Lenox Mall.

"This is... intense," Jules commented as they watched two women nearly come to blows over a discounted designer bag.

"Welcome to America, baby," Maya laughed.

The shopping expedition was followed by service at Reverend Richardson's old church, where Jules found himself the center of attention once again. The congregation welcomed him warmly, though more than a few elderly church ladies sent meaningful looks Maya's way when they noticed the way Jules' suit fit him.

All too soon, it was time to leave on Saturday morning. Jules had a flight to catch, a match to prepare for. As they said their goodbyes, each family member hugged him like they'd known him for years rather than days.

"You come back soon, you hear?" Maya's grandmother said, pressing a container of leftover sweet potato pie into his hands. "And don't you worry about your figure just this once."

Reverend Richardson shook his hand firmly. "Next time, we'll teach you about real football properly," he said with a wink. "But I suppose your kind of football isn't so bad either."

Maya's father pulled him aside for a moment. "You take care of our girl," he said simply. "And maybe next time, stay a little longer."

In the car on the way to the airport, Maya was unusually quiet.

"Everything okay?" Jules asked.

"More than okay," she smiled. "They love you. Even Daddy, though he'll never admit it directly. And Papa actually watched some more soccer highlights after you went to bed last night."

Jules laughed. "Your family is... they're special."

"Special crazy or special good?"

"Special perfect," he said, taking her hand. "Though I might need a week to recover from all the food your grandmother insisted I eat."

"Please, I saw you getting seconds of that mac and cheese. Don't even front."

As the plane took off a few hours later, Jules thought about the whirlwind visit. He'd faced some of the world's best strikers, played in front of massive crowds, dealt with intense media scrutiny. But somehow, winning over Maya's family felt like his greatest victory yet.

His phone buzzed with a message from Maya: "Daddy just said he might come watch one of your games sometime. I think that means you're officially family now 😘"

Jules smiled, already thinking about his next visit. Maybe by then, that little velvet box wouldn't be hidden away in Barcelona anymore. But first, he had a match to win against Las Palmas. After all, he couldn't disappoint his new American family who might be watching.

[duckprintspress]

Pre-Orders for “To Drive the Hundred Miles” by Alec J. Marsh NOW OPEN!

You can now pre-order the queer holiday novella To Drive the Hundred Miles by Alec J. Marsh!

Serendipity, WA is filled with Christmas cheer, beautiful mountain views, and trans man Will’s feminist Wiccan family. Home for the holidays, he avoids their clumsy attempts at support by hiding in the local coffee shop and flirting with Bea, a friend from high school.

The beautiful landscapes can’t make up for the the realities of being queer in a small town, and Bea wants out. Will grabs for a prosperity spell, and finds a new way to connect to the magic he’s become estranged from. New romance and optimism get them through the holidays, ready to face their next problems.

Author Alec J. Marsh describes his novel To Drive the Hundred Miles as a Hallmark movie made queer. With a trans male protagonist and an immersive first-person point of view, this novella will draw you in and hold your attention from start to finish. Join Will as he struggles with his family’s acceptance of him, and as he struggles with his own acceptance of the potentially bright future offered to him by the cute barista Bea. Ringing in the season with lows and highs, a whole lot of coffee and pancakes, and a modest dollop of spicy f/m content, you won’t want to miss your chance to get this touching book—now as a gorgeous trade paperback for the first time ever!

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a spell jar recipe two-sided postcard

a circular sticker with a skyscape and mountainscale

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To Drive the Hundred Miles E-Book + Merchandise Package

To Drive the Hundred Miles E-Book + Print Book Package

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[chiripalgroup]

The Circular Economy: A Path to Sustainability for Large Conglomerates Like Chiripal Group

The adoption of a circular economy by large conglomerates such as the Chiripal Group represents a crucial step toward sustainability. This approach not only redefines business operations but also positively impacts communities and the environment.

Understanding the Circular Economy

The circular economy is designed to be regenerative, aiming to reduce dependency on finite resources. Its principles focus on eliminating waste, keeping products in circulation, and supporting natural systems.

Why Large Corporations Must Lead

Large groups like Chiripal have the reach and resources to champion circular practices. By adopting sustainable strategies, they can inspire widespread industry change and promote eco-conscious practices.

Key Circular Economy Strategies

Product Life Extension: Companies can reduce waste through product repair, refurbishment, and remanufacturing. For instance, Grew, a Chiripal subsidiary, promotes sustainability by ensuring longevity and reusability in solar panels.

Resource Efficiency: By optimizing resources, companies reduce their environmental impact. Nandan Terry and Chiripal Polyfilms focus on efficient design and production. Nandan Terry, for example, reuses 98% of water in production, significantly cutting fresh water demand.

Circular Supply Chains: Shifting to circular supply chains involves recycling and reusing materials, creating a closed-loop system that minimizes waste.

Community Engagement: Engaging local communities in circular practices creates job opportunities and supports social responsibility. Chiripal’s CSR initiatives, such as the "Chiripal Mirchi Green Yodha" campaign, emphasize tree planting and e-waste management. Nandan Denim supports health, education, and environmental projects, while the Happiness Reserves Foundation fosters STEM education through the World STEM and Robotics Olympiad.

Policy Advocacy: Large companies can influence policies supporting circular economy principles by collaborating with governments and stakeholders.

Integrating Social Impact

By combining social initiatives with circular economy practices, companies can address systemic challenges, create jobs, and support community health, thus contributing to a more sustainable and equitable economy.

Conclusion

The circular economy offers strategic advantages, driving sustainability and profitability. For conglomerates like Chiripal, adopting circular practices means taking a lead in climate action and conservation while proving that large-scale industry can align with ecological goals.

This transition to a circular economy not only supports a sustainable future but also establishes a responsible business landscape that benefits both companies and communities.

[mercidupreclothiers]

Can Fashion Save the World? The Role of Fashion Engineers in the Fight Against Climate Change

Introduction

The fashion industry is often seen as glamorous, trendsetting, and sometimes wasteful. But what if fashion could also be a force for good? Could it help tackle one of the most pressing challenges of our time; climate change? Prolific fashion engineers like Dr. Christina Rahm, founder of Merci Dupre, with an eco-friendly women clothing vision, are stepping up, not just to make us look good, but to help save the planet.

Fashion’s Carbon Footprint:

Let’s face the facts.

The fashion industry is responsible for 10% of global carbon emissions; more than aviation and shipping combined. Fast fashion, with its focus on mass production and disposable trends, has accelerated this environmental damage. The United Nations estimates that the industry uses 93 billion cubic meters of water annually, enough to meet the needs of five million people.

So, what can we do? It starts with visionary designers who are committed to creating fashion that doesn’t come at the cost of our planet.

Merci Dupre: Leading by Example

At Merci Dupre, we believe that fashion can be both beautiful and sustainable with ethical clothing for women. Our Enviroware collection is designed with eco-friendly materials and cutting-edge technologies. From organic cotton to recyclable fabrics, we minimize waste at every stage of production.

But it’s not just about materials. Our approach is holistic, ensuring ethical labor practices and reducing water and energy consumption. According to the Fashion Transparency Index, more than 80% of consumers expect fashion brands to be transparent about their sustainability practices. Merci Dupre is at the forefront of this movement, proving that luxury and sustainability can coexist being the best eco-friendly clothing brands in USA.

The Role of Designers in the Climate Fight

Designers play a crucial role in shifting the fashion landscape. By choosing sustainable materials, promoting slow fashion, and educating consumers, they can drive real change.

Visionaries like Dr Christina Rahm, with her deep understanding of environmental science, bring a unique perspective to Merci Dupre, blending fashion with biotechnology to create pieces that protect both people and the planet.

As Dr Rahm says, "Designers are not just creators of beauty, but stewards of the future."

How You Can Help

Fashion doesn’t just exist in the hands of designers; consumers have power too. Every purchase is a vote for the kind of world we want to live in. Here are three ways you can make a difference:

Choose Quality: Invest in high-quality pieces that last. This reduces the demand for fast fashion, which thrives on disposability.

Buy Sustainable: Look for brands like Merci Dupre that prioritize eco-friendly materials and ethical production practices.

Support Circular Fashion: Consider second-hand, recycled, or upcycled fashion. Brands like Merci Dupre are incorporating recyclable materials to extend clothing life.

Conclusion

Can fashion save the world? Maybe not alone, but it can play a significant role in the fight against climate change. Designers like Dr. Christina Rahm are proving that fashion can be part of the solution, not just the problem. It’s time for us all to rethink our wardrobes and make choices that benefit both style and sustainability.

As Rahm wisely says, “A safer planet starts with what you wear." Let’s dress for a future we can all thrive in.

[chemanufhout44]

Chemical Manufacturing Companies in Houston

The Role of Chemical Manufacturing Companies in Houston

Introduction

Houston, Texas, is a powerhouse in the world of energy and industrial production, with a particularly strong reputation in the chemical manufacturing sector. The city is often referred to as the "Energy Capital of the World," but it’s also a critical hub for chemical production, contributing significantly to the global supply chain. Chemical manufacturing companies in Houston are at the forefront of innovation, producing a wide range of chemicals that are essential for numerous industries, from healthcare and agriculture to electronics and automotive manufacturing. This article delves into the importance of these companies, the range of products they create, and their impact on both the local and global economy.

The Significance of Houston’s Chemical Manufacturing Industry

Houston’s strategic location near the Gulf of Mexico, coupled with its extensive infrastructure, makes it an ideal location for chemical manufacturing. The city is home to the largest petrochemical complex in the United States, and this has fostered a robust ecosystem of chemical manufacturing companies. These companies benefit from the proximity to raw materials, such as oil and natural gas, which are essential inputs for chemical production. Additionally, the city’s well-established logistics network, including ports, railways, and highways, facilitates the efficient distribution of chemical products both domestically and internationally.

The chemical manufacturing industry in Houston is not only a major contributor to the local economy but also plays a critical role in supporting other industries. The chemicals produced in Houston are used in the production of plastics, pharmaceuticals, fertilizers, and countless other products that are integral to modern life. Without the chemicals manufactured in Houston, many industries would struggle to maintain their current levels of production and innovation.

Key Players in Houston's Chemical Manufacturing Sector

Several major companies dominate the chemical manufacturing landscape in Houston, each contributing to the industry’s strength and diversity. These companies range from multinational corporations to specialized firms that focus on niche markets.

Dow Chemical Company: One of the largest chemical manufacturers in the world, Dow has a significant presence in Houston. The company produces a vast array of chemicals, including plastics, performance materials, and agricultural products. Dow’s Houston operations are integral to its global supply chain, enabling the company to meet the demands of industries across the globe.

ExxonMobil Chemical: As a division of one of the largest oil companies in the world, ExxonMobil Chemical plays a crucial role in the production of petrochemicals. The company’s Houston facilities produce a wide range of products, including polyethylene, polypropylene, and other polymers that are used in packaging, automotive components, and consumer goods. ExxonMobil Chemical’s innovations in polymer technology have helped drive advancements in material science, contributing to the development of lighter, stronger, and more sustainable products.

LyondellBasell: This company is one of the largest plastics, chemicals, and refining companies in the world. With its headquarters in Houston, LyondellBasell is a key player in the production of polypropylene, polyethylene, and advanced polymers. The company’s products are used in a variety of applications, from packaging and textiles to automotive parts and medical devices. LyondellBasell is also a leader in sustainability, with initiatives aimed at reducing plastic waste and promoting circular economy practices.

BASF Corporation: A subsidiary of the German chemical giant BASF SE, BASF Corporation operates several facilities in the Houston area. The company produces a wide range of chemicals, including those used in agriculture, automotive, and construction industries. BASF is known for its commitment to innovation, investing heavily in research and development to create new and improved chemical products that meet the evolving needs of its customers.

The Impact of Chemical Manufacturing on the Local Economy

The chemical manufacturing industry is a major driver of economic activity in Houston. The sector provides thousands of high-paying jobs, ranging from engineers and chemists to skilled laborers and logistics professionals. These jobs not only support the livelihoods of those directly employed by chemical manufacturing companies but also create a ripple effect throughout the local economy. For example, the presence of a strong chemical manufacturing sector attracts other businesses, such as suppliers, contractors, and service providers, further boosting economic growth in the region.

In addition to job creation, chemical manufacturing companies in Houston contribute significantly to the city’s tax base. The revenue generated from these taxes helps fund essential public services, such as education, healthcare, and infrastructure development. Furthermore, the industry’s emphasis on innovation and sustainability has led to the development of new technologies and processes that have the potential to reduce environmental impact and improve efficiency across various sectors.

Environmental and Safety Considerations

While the chemical manufacturing industry in Houston is vital to the economy, it also presents challenges, particularly in terms of environmental impact and safety. The production of chemicals involves the use of hazardous materials, and if not properly managed, these materials can pose risks to both human health and the environment.

To address these concerns, chemical manufacturing companies in Houston are subject to stringent regulations enforced by federal and state agencies, such as the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the Texas Commission on Environmental Quality (TCEQ). These regulations govern everything from emissions and waste disposal to workplace safety standards. Companies are required to implement comprehensive safety and environmental management systems to minimize risks and ensure compliance with these regulations.

Many chemical manufacturers in Houston have gone beyond regulatory requirements, adopting best practices in sustainability and safety. For instance, companies like LyondellBasell and BASF have implemented programs to reduce greenhouse gas emissions, minimize waste, and promote the use of renewable energy sources. These initiatives not only help protect the environment but also enhance the companies’ reputations and appeal to customers who prioritize sustainability.

The Future of Chemical Manufacturing in Houston

The chemical manufacturing industry in Houston is poised for continued growth, driven by advancements in technology, increasing demand for chemicals, and the city’s strategic advantages. However, the industry will also need to navigate challenges related to environmental sustainability, regulatory compliance, and global competition.

One of the key trends shaping the future of chemical manufacturing in Houston is the shift towards sustainability. As consumers and businesses become more environmentally conscious, there is increasing pressure on chemical manufacturers to reduce their carbon footprints and adopt more sustainable practices. This shift is likely to drive innovation in areas such as green chemistry, renewable feedstocks, and circular economy models.

Another important trend is the growing role of digitalization in chemical manufacturing. Companies are increasingly using digital technologies, such as data analytics, artificial intelligence, and automation, to improve efficiency, optimize production processes, and enhance safety. These technologies have the potential to transform the industry, enabling companies to operate more sustainably and respond more quickly to changing market demands.

Conclusion

Chemical manufacturing companies in Houston play a critical role in the global supply chain, producing essential chemicals that support a wide range of industries. The city’s strategic location, robust infrastructure, and access to raw materials make it an ideal hub for chemical production. As the industry continues to evolve, driven by trends in sustainability and digitalization, Houston’s chemical manufacturers will be at the forefront of innovation, contributing to economic growth and helping to address some of the world’s most pressing challenges.

In conclusion, the chemical manufacturing industry in Houston is a vital part of the city’s economy and a key player on the global stage. By continuing to prioritize innovation, sustainability, and safety, these companies will not only maintain their competitive edge but also contribute to a more sustainable and prosperous future for all.

[honeybummer]

Astarion Fic where his wife loses her memories and intimacy triggers them!!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/57037258/chapters/145056385

Chapter 1 Reunited Astarion raced towards the old bell tower outside Baldur's Gate, his heart pounding with a mix of hope and desperation. His wife, Lyra, had been spotted there. Finally—after four agonizing months without her. He would finally get her back.

They had snatched her off the streets in the middle of the day while he had been at home. He could never forgive himself for not being with her that day.

He had spent every waking moment stalking the streets, listening to conversations in taverns, infiltrating hideouts, and doing everything within his abilities to find a trace of her whereabouts.

Days upon days of tireless searching had left him physically and emotionally drained, all the while juggling the duties that awaited him back home. Despite having plenty of helpers and friends, he struggled to manage his life without her.

As he approached the tower, rain pelted down mercilessly, drenching him to the bone. The ancient structure loomed ahead, its stone walls glistening in the dim light of sporadic lightning strikes that split the sky.

The air was thick with the scent of wet earth, and the distant rumble of thunder echoed through the landscape.

Astarion's thoughts raced as he sprinted closer. Images of Lyra, her laughter, and the warmth of her embrace fueled his determination. The nights spent alone, haunted by memories and fears, were about to end. She was near; he could feel it in the very core of his being.

He hadn't had time to call for assistance when a messenger rushed into his study to inform him that his wife had been seen. He just grabbed his leathers, his weapons, and fled after informing their housekeeper. But he didn't need assistance.

He was the vampire ascendant. With a restored soul in tow, Lyra had made sure of that.

Astarion couldn’t shake the overwhelming guilt that gnawed at his conscience. This entire ordeal was his fault. Lyra's striking a deal with Bhaal to reclaim Astarion’s soul had inevitably incurred the wrath of the god of murder. Now, his followers hunted her relentlessly, driven by sinister motives Astarion could only begin to fathom.

The specifics didn’t matter to him. All he knew was that he needed to save her, just as she had saved him countless times before.

Reaching the base of the tower, he paused briefly to catch his breath, his mind racing. The heavy oak door stood before him. With a deep breath to steady his nerves, Astarion pushed it open, the creaking hinges protesting against the force.

Inside, the air was humid and musty. A single staircase spiraled upwards, disappearing into darkness. A scream pierced the air. Lyra.

He began his ascent, each step echoing in the silence like a rapid drumbeat.

As he climbed, memories of Lyra flooded his mind—shared bedrolls, heated arguments during missions, and playful banter. They had begun as wary strangers, each harboring their own hidden agendas, but gradually, they had clawed their way into each other’s hearts. What started as indifference and rivalry had blossomed into passionate nights on the road.

The uncertainty of her fate gnawed at him, but he pushed the doubt aside, focusing instead on the possibility of finally reuniting with her. If one fucking hair had been touched on her head, he swore–

Another scream and then a grunt.

Reaching the top, he emerged into a circular chamber dominated by a large, ancient bell. Faint candlelight dimly lit the room, casting eerie shadows across the walls. A small room stood off to the side where five figures stood.

Lyra.

Astarion watched as a follower of Bhaal seized Lyra by the waist. She twisted her body with impressive agility, driving her elbow into the man's ribs. A sharp grunt of pain escaped the attacker, his grip slackening just enough for her to gain the upper hand. She didn't hesitate. She stomped her heel down on his foot with a precise and powerful move, eliciting a yelp of pain.

The man staggered, and Lyra spun around, her eyes blazing with determination. She brought her knee up sharply into his stomach, forcing a gasp from his lips as he doubled over. Astarion felt a surge of pride and relief as he watched her, and he reached for another attacker as they neared his wife.

Astarion gave a powerful kick to the man's chest, sending him sprawling to the ground. He rose, and Astarion quickly sunk a dagger into his chest, silencing him forever. Another and another came out of nowhere, and Astarion ended them quickly.

In the blink of an eye, another man latched onto his wife, and she ripped her arm from his grasp. Astarion saw the fire in her eyes, the unyielding resolve that had kept her alive and strong despite everything they had been through. But, her movements became slow.

That’s when he noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the – gods, the bruises marring her cheek and arms. He wanted to explode. Lyra tripped and fell to the floor.

The man lifted his hand to bury a dagger into Lyra’s thigh, but Astarion knocked it out of his hand, and it scattered across the floor.

He grabbed the man by his neck and thrust him to the floor. Lighting flashed, illuminating the terror on the face of a follower of Bhaal. Astarion couldn’t help but laugh as he lifted his leg and brought his foot down hard onto the skull of the man who had dared harm his wife.

He heard Lyra gasp behind him as the man’s brains decorated the wood floor.

When the danger was eliminated, he turned to her, still huddled against the wall, her legs trembling.

"Lyra?" Astarion's voice cracked with emotion as he called out, his heart racing with a mix of relief and apprehension.

His eyes were wide on him, and then they flickered to behind him, where he heard the arrival of more attackers. Astarion's instincts kicked in, drawing his blades with a fluid grace born of centuries of survival. The sound of steel ringing against steel filled the chamber as he fought off the attackers, his movements a deadly dance amidst the flickering candlelight.

His mind raced with strategies to protect Lyra, even as she watched in stunned silence.

As the last of Bhaal's followers fell beneath his blades, Astarion stood panting, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He turned towards Lyra, his chest heaving with exertion and emotions too raw to name.

He knelt on the floor, a great smile breaking across his face. He pulled her into his arms and felt tears prick in his eyes.

Drawing back slightly, he cradled her face in his hands, his touch gentle yet urgent. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a deep kiss born of overwhelming gratitude for her survival. His heart raced with the sheer relief of finding her alive and mostly unharmed. He still needed to get her home so he could assess any wounds she might hav–

Gasping with pain and disbelief, Astarion pulled back to see a dagger suddenly embedded into his chest, right through his heart. He looked into Lyra's eyes, seeing that hers softened into relief.

She had stabbed him. And she was… relieved?

"Lyra, it's me," he managed to choke out, trying to convey reassurance through the pain. He pulled the dagger from his chest and clutched at the wound, which he knew would soon close. He was ascended, after all. It would take a lot more than that to kill him.

He tossed the dagger to the side and felt his skin stitching back together. He blew out a breath and stared at his wife.

Her eyes widened in horror, absolute horror.

"What are you?" she gasped.

Gasped, as if she didn't know what he was capable of. As if she believed the wound would kill him.

He reached for her again, and she recoiled. Then, she lifted her hand to strike him. He caught her wrist effortlessly, and she tried to rip it from his grasp but was unsuccessful.

After the ascension he had been gifted immense strength. Before Lyra could take him down with no problem, but now her efforts were nothing to him.

They had battled for hours in the courtyard of their home, with her trying to find ways to trip him up. She had succeeded several times. Where Astarion had strength, he lacked the skill of meticulous footwork, and Lyra was a master at it.

So, to take him down, she had to use her wits. But fighting his strength with her strength? He would win that battle every time.

A sudden chill of realization swept over Astarion. How could it be that Lyra didn't recognize him? The tower was bathed in enough candlelight to illuminate his face.

"It's me, Lyra," he said, touching his hand to his chest. "I'm getting you out of here. Let's hurry." He moved forward so that he could gather her in his arms.

She shuffled back from him, desperately trying to flee. "I don't know you."

Astarion's gaze fell upon Lyra's trembling form, his heart aching with a mixture of love and confusion.

She cowered before him, her eyes wide with fear and anger, not recognizing the face of the man who had just moments ago embraced her with such overwhelming relief.

He studied her carefully, taking in the signs of distress etched across her features—the way her breath hitched with every tentative movement, the bruises decorating her skin, and the flicker of pain in her eyes that mirrored his own.

The revelation hit him like a blow.

Her memories had been taken.

Again.

[mavaji]

Unveiling the Latest Advancements in Non-Woven Fabric Technology

Non-woven fabrics have revolutionized numerous industries with their versatility, durability, and eco-friendly properties. As a leading non-woven fabric manufacturer, Mavazi Fabrics is committed to staying at the forefront of technological advancements in this dynamic field. Let's explore some of the latest innovations shaping the landscape of non-woven fabric technology.

1. Sustainable Materials and Processes

In response to growing environmental concerns, non-woven fabric manufacturer are increasingly focusing on sustainable materials and processes. Innovations such as recycled fibers, bio-based polymers, and biodegradable additives are being incorporated into non-woven fabric production to reduce environmental impact and promote circularity. At Mavazi Fabrics, we embrace sustainable practices and offer a range of eco-friendly non-woven fabrics that meet the highest standards of environmental responsibility.

2. Enhanced Performance and Functionality

Advancements in non-woven fabric technology are leading to fabrics with enhanced performance and functionality. Manufacturers are developing fabrics with specialized properties such as moisture-wicking, antimicrobial, flame-retardant, and UV-resistant capabilities to meet the diverse needs of various industries. These advanced fabrics offer improved comfort, protection, and durability, making them ideal for applications ranging from healthcare and hygiene to automotive and construction.

3. Nanotechnology and Microfibers

Nanotechnology is revolutionizing the non-woven fabric industry by enabling the production of ultrafine fibers with unprecedented properties. Nanofibers exhibit superior strength, filtration efficiency, and surface area compared to conventional fibers, making them ideal for applications such as filtration, medical textiles, and protective apparel. Manufacturers are leveraging nanotechnology to develop non-woven fabrics with enhanced breathability, barrier properties, and filtration performance.

4. Smart and Intelligent Fabrics

The integration of smart and intelligent technologies is another exciting development in non-woven fabric technology. Manufacturers are incorporating sensors, conductive fibers, and microelectronics into non-woven fabrics to create smart textiles capable of monitoring vital signs, detecting environmental conditions, and transmitting data wirelessly. These smart fabrics have applications in healthcare, sports, military, and wearable technology, offering unprecedented levels of comfort, convenience, and functionality.

5. 3D Printing and Additive Manufacturing

Advancements in additive manufacturing technologies such as 3D printing are revolutionizing the production of non-woven fabrics. Manufacturers can now create complex fabric structures with precise control over fiber orientation, porosity, and thickness, allowing for the customization of fabrics according to specific requirements. 3D printing enables rapid prototyping, cost-effective production, and design flexibility, paving the way for innovative applications in fashion, aerospace, and consumer goods.

Conclusion

The latest advancements in non-woven fabric technology are driving innovation and opening up exciting possibilities across industries. From sustainable materials and enhanced performance to nanotechnology, smart fabrics, and additive manufacturing, non-woven fabric manufacturer like Mavazi Fabrics are at the forefront of these developments. By embracing cutting-edge technologies and pushing the boundaries of what is possible, we are proud to offer our customers innovative non-woven fabric solutions that meet the evolving needs of the market.

[sunblonderealtors]

Mumbai is a epicenter of real estate properties in India, categorized in top pricing and also in top listing. Blessed by nature, Mumbai has an immersive sea coast of 149 km and approximately 16 km of beaches. From the above facts, we know how precious the land it is. From the month of June, it's the arrival time for monsoon in Mumbai and its suburbs to refresh these area to green & aesthetic colors. Mumbai's monsoon typically begins in early June and lasts until late September. The heaviest rainfall usually occurs in July, which can account for a significant portion of the total annual rainfall and water supply to Mumbai's ground.

Prime Locations For Mumbai Monsoon Lovers

Marine Drive Famous as the Queen's Necklace, the vast circular coastline of Marine Drive is also renowned for its rainy season activities. The immersive view of high tides and waves of the Arabian Sea in the monsoon months is noted as a must-watch once in a lifetime. Properties in this area are popular for offering these beautiful views.

Bandstand & Carter Road, Bandra Bandra is a place of heritage in terms of its beaches and retro Indian-style coastlines, which are preserved and well-maintained to this date. Most of the crowd is seen here during the rain season. An ideal walk in the rains, with the Arabian Sea along with most restaurants, cafes on the side, and top lifestyle amenities provide comfort with views of Juhu Beach. Property in this area has seen a value appreciation of 2x in the last 5 years due to the best natural view of monsoon and beaches.

Powai & Vihar Lake An excellent place to visit in Mumbai during the monsoon for a quiet walk in the rains. Here's a catch: Mumbai's most famous township, Hiranandani Gardens, is situated in the same location. Most of the residents enjoy Powai Lake and its surroundings. Fun fact: This township has many gardens and private hill areas to explore lush greenery during the rainy season. Many small to medium waterfalls at Vihar Lake can be found at the arrival of monsoon.

Worli Sea-Face & New Atal Setu at Sewri Framed by the stunning Haji Ali Dargah, Worli Fort, and Bandra-Worli Sea Link, this area is known for high tides that thrill any visitor and also residents who have lived here for a long time. The monsoon season brings fewer visitors, making it a perfect place in Mumbai for those seeking solitude. The Sea Link, beautifully lit at night, also offers a delightful drive. The property in this area is most attractive for Worli Sea Link connectivity and its monsoon and off-season beauty. The new Atal Setu (Shri Atal Bihari Vajpayee Trans Harbour Link Road) is a new attraction in Mumbai. From the nearby locations of Wadala, Sion, and Sewri, people are attracted to this massive build on the sea surface to get views of Elephanta Caves and high tides during the rainy season.

Natural Resilience

Rich Greener The monsoon renovates Mumbai's parks and green spaces, such as the Sanjay Gandhi National Park and the city's numerous gardens.

Cultural Importance Monsoons are an integral part of Mumbai's cultural landscape, influencing local festivals and lifestyle.

Infrastructure Challenges

Drainage System: Mumbai's aging drainage system struggles to cope with the heavy downpours, leading to frequent waterlogging.

Urban Planning: Rapid urbanization and inadequate infrastructure development exacerbate the impact of heavy rains.

[darkspine10]

GF Fanfic - Critical Meltdown

Dipper and Mabel Vs. The Past (40,456 words) by darkspine10

Chapters: 8/9

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Rating: Teen and Up

Surrounded by a giant field of solar panels glistening in the evening sun stood a pair of conical grey towers. Out here in the desert they seemed a resolute fixture of the landscape. Pacifica wondered how long they would last. If humanity vanished tomorrow, how many centuries would pass before those circular towers crumbled into dust? How much longer still might the elements within, hidden in the core deep below, linger on as a persistent danger.

She read the name on the signs, ‘Rancho Seco Nuclear Generating Plant’. It seemed a remote spot, nearly 2 hours drive out from Piedmont and miles from the city centre. An odd place to end this. Rusting sirens stood on poles. They would be silent if anything dangerous happened.

She heard the screech of tires and saw the Mini pull up to the plant. Her husband practically fell out of the car, followed by Mabel, Zera, and his father.

Dipper looked immensely worn out. Making the round trip to pick up the others was the cherry on the cake of a very long day. He wasn’t the only one. Zera was wiped out from all the spellcasting and running around too.

Mabel seemed as peppy as ever though, bounding over to her mother and Merrise with a spring in her step. “Heya guys, how’ve you been? We went to the zoo!”

Merrise bounced on the spot. “Ooh, we went to this science museum place, and fought a dinosaur, and now I’ve got a toy dinosaur!”

“That’s great kiddo!” She turned to Pacifica, suddenly dropping her exuberance. “Any sign of tulpa number 3?”

“Not from out here. I haven’t stepped inside yet.” Pacifica lowered her voice to a whisper. “I don’t want Merrise going anywhere near a radioactive building.”

“You don’t have to worry about radiation,” Dipper said loudly, making it impossible for anyone not to hear. So much for sensitivity. “This place was decommissioned 50 years ago. The only active nuclear plant in the whole state is Diablo Canyon, south of the city.”

“So how’d you find this place?” Mabel asked, turning her head to look around and doing a 360 degree spin in the process. “There are no news crews anywhere. No anyone, in fact.”

“That’s where there might be a problem.” Dipper turned on his energy scanner. A large green pulse was flashing brightly on the map. Its location corresponded to where they were currently standing. “It’s possible the tulpa here is leeching power from some latent potential energy remaining in the core. Or maybe doing something with contaminated waste. Either way it’s not good. The tulpa could use the energy to manifest as something even more powerful than what we’ve witnessed so far.”

“They already did a convincing T-Rex,” Pacifica said, unimpressed. “How much bigger can you get?”

“I’m talking universal level threat.” He mimed an explosion by expanding his hands out in a wide area. “Something that won’t merely terrorise the city, but could destroy it instead!”

“Oh, so no pressure then,” Mrs Pines said. “I suppose the seven of us are going to walk right inside and save the world?”

“That sounds like the Pines MO,” Zera said. She was still slumped in the back of the car with her eyes half-lidded.

“I suppose, if no-one else is going to do it… it falls to us.” Mr Pines unexpectedly led the way towards the facility, with the others, besides Zera, following in lockstep. She stayed where she was to nurse her head, making a half-hearted thumbs up.

As nuclear plants go, the site was modest. Besides the two cooling towers there was a small main building, consisting of a bunch of functional square units with a squat cylindrical tower attached, resembling a grain silo. Behind was an electrical substation and pylons trailing off to the horizon. Over to their left, a row of storage unit sheds containing used fuel rods. A sign saying ‘trespassers are prohibited’ did nothing to stop them. As the sun went down, electric lamp posts automatically switched on, bathing them in a harsh artificial glare.

“A nuclear plant after dark, what a place for a mystery hunt,” Dipper said, his voice echoing slightly.

“Reminds me of that derelict hydro dam we went to once,” Mabel said. “There’s something eerie about a place that used to give power now sitting lifeless.”

“Don’t get poetic on us, May,” Pacifica said. “You can rhapsodise all about this place when we’re cosy and warm at home, sipping hot chocolate and unwrapping presents.” She shook her head. “What are our lives like? I mean, of all the places…”

Dipper pointed over the plains to the south. “There were actually some cryptid sightings near here once. There’s a lake and a park over there. People said they saw a ‘raptor’ flying above.”

“I remember that,” Mabel said, snapping her fingers. “We camped out by the lakeside and staked it out. Back in ‘21.” She poked her brother in the side. “You got bitten by sooooo many mosquitos that night.”

“That wasn’t long before the wedding,” Pacifica said, lost in thought. “Then we moved away from Mabel a short while after.”

“Dark days,” Dipper said jokily. “We never did find any raptor. At least this time our outing won’t be wasted. We know for a fact that the tulpa is here at the plant.”

“Dad, what is a nuclear power plant anyway?” Merrise asked, neck straining to look up at the cooling towers. Red LED lights shone around the rims of each, making them seem like the bastion of an evil fortress.

Mr Pines was the one to explain, glad to be able to provide something from his wheelhouse. “It uses the splitting of high-mass elements to generate heat, which causes water to turn into steam and rotate a turbine to produce electricity. Like… a really big water wheel, essentially.”

“Cool,” Merrise said. Though she didn’t always get overly excited by science topics, she still had a voracious desire to understand more about how the natural world worked.

“This one isn’t doing anything though,” Mabel said, scoffing. “They should have never built it in the first place.”

“Oh yeah, cause it’s so totally dangerous to the environment.” Dipper rolled his eyes.

“Well it is!”

“Only if you buy into the anti-nuclear propaganda”

“You’ll be the one regretting it if a place like this melts down and makes half of California unlivable.”

“Just so long as you admit that you’re encouraging a return to fossil fuels if you bash nuclear!”

“Can you two shut up for a second?” Pacifica hissed. “Debate later, when the city isn’t at risk.”

Merrise raised an eyebrow at the twins. “I thought you two were meant to have some super special, epic sibling bond or something like that?”

“Oh, we do,” Mabel said. “Sibling relationships are just like this. It’s not always sunshine and roses. What, you think we never argue? Never want to have our side heard?”

“I believe it,” Pacifica said, “I’ve got two decades of first hand experience of you two bickering.”

“I’ve got three,” Mrs Pines gleefully added.

“The point is,” Mabel said, returning to her niece, “is that we may disagree and have differing views… but we’re still family. We still love each other, no matter how much we drive each other up the wall. I keep forgetting, none of you guys ever had any siblings. Even Z, who had a crazy amount of tadpole siblings, doesn’t count.”

“It’s like having a ‘default friend’,” Dipper said. “We’re so close, but we also know exactly how to drive each other mad. We share a bunch of family in-jokes and memories that’s hard for anyone else to appreciate, even with you, Paz.”

Merrise thought for a moment. “I guess then we’ll have to act like a family now. So we can all know what that’s like. Like you said before. Family traditions can start whenever we want to make some.”

Dipper smiled, proud of his daughter’s initiative and desire to heal their fractious family make-up one way or another. He glanced at his parents, walking ahead along the silent alley. He resolved to reconcile with them as soon as possible, so they could put the whole sorry lying business in the past for good.

To no-one’s surprise the doors to the reactor building were locked. A metal chain and padlock were slung across. Mr Pines pushed it to no avail. “Oh well, guess we’ll have to go home. He gave a weak laugh that nobody else reciprocated and it died in his throat. “Worth a shot.”

“Step back everyone, I’ve got this.” Mabel smugly pushed through to examine the doors. She squinted and focused with her glasses, before standing up and wiping her hands. “Oh, this’ll be easy. I won’t even have to pick the lock.” From her jacket pocket she removed a pair of wire clippers and snipped the rusting chain. The padlock clanked to the ground. “Voila!”

“I’m constantly amazed by the stuff you happen to be carrying,” Pacifica said, shaking her head.

“I always carry wire clippers with me. Usually bolt cutters and a couple of spray cans too.” Mabel shrugged. “Never know when you have to do an impromptu bit of political activism.” She pushed the double doors open and peered into the dark gloom.

Dipper switched on his flashlight and entered the reception area. There was a smell of dry must, as well as a clinical antiseptic scent. They’d probably sprayed the whole place down to reduce any chance of leakage or waste. His scanner showed the same bright pulse, but it was once again poor at giving him the fine detail needed to pin down the tulpa. He turned off the tracking feature and extended twin aerials on either side of the boxy device. It instantly started making a constant clicking noise. “Geiger counter reading is looking alright, only a little above background. Even though this place isn’t too big I think we should stick together for now. That way we won’t accidentally go anywhere with higher risk levels.”

“And you’re still sure Merrise should be in here?” Mrs Pines asked. “Might it be worth her going back to wait by the car?”

“I don’t want to go.” Merrise said, frowning. “This is a family adventure.”

“I’m being conscious of your wellbeing, my dear. It’s not even something out of the ordinary. Radiation poisoning is no laughing matter.”

“She knows the risks,” Dipper said absent-mindedly. “It’s dangerous, but if Pacifica and I are willing to stick our necks out then nothing we say can stop Merrise tagging along. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

“I suppose child endangerment is what you’re used to,” she said sharply. “You said it yourself, you started out so young.”

“That’s… that’s not important right now,” he mumbled. Resting his flashlight in the crook of his neck he shone it down at Journal 9 while he sketched a rough layout of the facility. “Ok, there’s the parking lot, cooling towers over here.” He drew two circles off to the right side. “Main entrance here, reactor core should be… there.” In an empty space at the middle of his drawing he marked a cross.

“Seems the most likely spot,” Mabel said. “Let’s go

“Then we have to deal with that Errata guy,” Pacifica added, a sour look on her face. It had already been a long enough day and she didn’t relish the idea of dealing with yet another cryptid on the loose.

The group passed through a series of functional grey corridors, only briefly shining their lights into side rooms and moving on. Dipper kept adding to his map, drawing more lines at every junction they went by. At the next turn he abruptly went left. They entered a large control room, with banks of dusty computers along the walls and ranks of freestanding consoles. A window running the length of the far wall looked down onto the reactor core itself. Walkways crisscrossed a large hall with empty circular pits.

“Most of the components were stripped out ages ago,” Dipper said. “The power generating equipment was all removed, the control rods, and the turbines. The Nuclear Regulatory Commission made sure to clean it all too, before you ask, Mabel, so in theory it should be safe.” His geiger counter was still ticking away at the same rate.

“Hmm, I’m still not convinced,” Mabel said, peering through the window. Given her poor eyesight she wasn’t able to make out much. “There must be something, or else why would the tulpa come here?”

“Fair point.” Dipper shone his light down into the reactor area but it barely made a dent in the enclosed darkness. “It makes you sad, doesn’t it? This place used to harness the power of the atom to create incredible amounts of power. Now it’s a husk.”

“Doesn’t make me sad,” Pacifica said. “It’s just a grimy industrial hole in the ground and I’d rather we don’t stick around chatting all evening and got the hell out of here.”

“Right right, let’s stay on mission.” He laid out his journal on the nearest desk and the others huddled around to look. Dipper’s finger slid along the page. “There are two passageways that lead down there, one on each side of the complex leading from this control centre. I recommend we break into two groups and meet again in the middle. Since the core’s likely the most likely place for the tulpa to be hiding, and also probably has the highest chance of radiation. I'm going to take a page out of your book, Mom. Merrise, I want you to stay up here, and before you argue,” she’d already opened her mouth to complain, “you can still help. From here you can watch everything that goes on down there and warn us if there’s trouble. The lights outside had electricity, so there should be an intercom.”

He hurried around the consoles, but his father found the microphone first. He clicked the button and they heard a quiet feedback sound from the main chamber.

“Good good,” Dipper said. “Now, Pacifica, I know you’ll hate me for this, but I want you to stay up here and look after Merrise.”

“What, and play babysitter while you go down there?”

“If my hunch about the core is wrong then we need someone to watch our flank if the tulpa shows up where we aren’t expecting it.” He put his palm on her cheek. “You and Merrise are our backup if something goes wrong.”

Pacifica clutched his hand and kissed it. “When you put it like that… don’t be reckless down there.”

“Hey, you know me. As long as I don’t eat any uranium rods I’m sure I’ll be fine.” He flashed a crooked grin and she giggled.

“Go on, get out of here and finish this.”

“I’ll go with Mom down the right corridor,” Mabel said. “You take Dad a go around the other way.”

Dipper nodded and both he and his sister strode out of the room. Mr and Mrs Pines shared an uneasy look before following their respective children out. “Relax,” Pacifica called after them. “It’s only a monster that can turn into any other monster in the multiverse, sitting on top of what could turn into a ginormous ticking time bomb. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Ignore her,” Dipper said to his dad. “She’s trying to lighten the mood the way only Pacifica can.”

“You can sure pick ‘em,” Mr Pines replied.

They were only a few feet down the corridor when the air was split by an ear-piercing shriek. “Pacifica!” Dipper cried. “Dad, stay here.” He immediately bolted back down the corridor. When he got back to the control room he bumped into Mabel who’d had the same idea. They found Pacifica cowering in the corner, while Merrise was in hysterics. She pointed to the corner of the room, where a mass of cobwebs were tangled up. “I walked right into it!” Pacifica said, stamping her feet.

Mabel dropped down onto her front and watched a spider scuttling along the floor. “Aw, poor cutie.” She held out her finger and let the arachnid crawl over her fingers. “That tickles.” She set the spider down over by the webs and let it wander off. “You were scared of that tiny thing, Paz?”

“I wasn’t expecting it ok! It got in my hair! It’s not mutated is it?”

“Nope. Looks perfectly average. The girl who’s fought demons one-on-one can’t handle a small bug. Wow.”

Dipper coughed into his fist, “Moth.”

Mabel screamed and leapt to her feet. “WHERE? KILL IT!” The look of amusement on everyone’s faces made her straighten. “Uh, I mean. Wooh. Crazy.” She cupped her hands together then pointed down the corridor. “Let’s… let’s keep going.”

“Wait!” They turned to Merrise, face and palms right up against the glass. Down in the reactor room Mr and Mrs Pines each emerged from either side.

“They went on without us,” Mabel said, furrowing her brow.

“That’s why!” Merrise pointed but they’d all seen it. Following Mr and Mrs Pines into the room were two shimmering golden humanoids. They were short, only children. Dipper was confused. Where were the terrifying enemies, the cosmic entities hellbent on destruction that the tulpa would surely have turned into?

The two tulpas had taken the shape of a boy and a girl. The boy had a baseball cap and wore a sleeveless vest and shorts, while the girl’s colourful woollen sweater was hard to miss. Dipper had been wrong. The tulpa didn’t want the energy in this place to turn into something powerful. It needed the vast sums of energy to create another emotional connection, similar to his own repressed internal turmoil at the golf course. The tulpa had turned into perfect replicas of the Pines twins, circa 2012.

Zera’s eyes flipped open. She’d managed to drift off peacefully in the car. The lights from the plant hadn’t reached her and it was perfectly pitch black in the desert. Or it had been. A bright light made her cover her eyes and sit up. The glare was covering the entire plant and its surroundings in a diffuse halo. It wasn’t a golden illumination, as the tulpas and their creator had been. It was a harsher, lifeless light, like the glow of a distant forest fire over the horizon. An unholy aura.

Zera didn’t know what was causing the sudden luminance, but she knew it couldn’t be a good sign. She was worried it was radioactive in some way. That was silly though. Radiation didn’t actually glow like in a cartoon. It was an invisible, insidious killer. This must be related to the tulpas.

A dark shape flew past the car and she turned her head to catch it. Her mouth dropped open as she recognised the four-legged, top-heavy monstrosity lurching towards the main reactor building. “Oh May. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“Mary? What are we doing? I’m not so sure this was a good idea.”

“Me neither. But what else are we supposed to do?”

They’d each seen a tulpa manifesting in the hallway, taking on the almost cherubic representations of their children. The children beckoned Mr and Mrs Pines onwards. Since they had no clue how to fight back they’d not demurred, and let the creatures guide them. Once all four of them were in the reactor room, the tulpas stood side-by-side and faced the parents. They each held one hand aloft, casting an ominous light to outshine the feeble flashlights. It enveloped the chamber, blocking all vision from the outside. Since then the tulpa twins had stood lifelessly in the reactor hall, staring vacantly ahead. They were like clockwork automatons waiting for the strike of noon.

Up in the control room, blinded by the glare, Pacifica and Merrise tried desperately to come up with answers. “We’ve gotta do something!” Merrise said, throwing her arms down in frustration. “This is a control room, right? Can’t we do anything from up here? I don’t know, turn off the power, stop the reactor. Control rods, those are a thing, right?”

“That’s just it, there are no controls.” Pacifica slammed a fist on the nearest console, which resounded with an echoing clang. “Like Mason said, all the power regulating machines are already gone. There shouldn’t be anything down there that’s capable of generating energy, let alone allowing us to switch it off!” Even the intercom had proven useless, giving nothing but static. Whatever the tulpas were doing to shine such a bright glow was also blocking radio waves too.

“That light, it hurts to look.” Merrise shielded her eyes with her hand and tapped the glass overlooking the floor below. “This is like bulletproof or something. They’re my grandparents!” Merrise said, on the verge of tears. “We’ve gotta be able to do something.”

“It’s up to the twins now.” Pacifica set her lip in a resolute line, determined not to show any fear in front of her daughter. “Why does it always have to fall on their stupid shoulders?”

That, as a matter of fact, was what Dipper was thinking at that same moment, creeping along the corridor to the reactor. He had no plan, no backup magic artefacts or clever tricks to win the day. He had his journal, his sister, and a fleeting hope his parents weren’t about to be disintegrated in a ball of fiery death.

Mabel ran up to the door to the room where her parents were. She pressed herself against the door, commando style, readying her gauntlet and squaring her shoulders. She nodded to Dipper as if expecting him to match her stance. He simply walked up to the door and shoved it open. Forget surprise; the tulpas must know they were coming.

He thought it would be burning hot inside but found all heat was being leached from the air. As they passed through the blazing nimbus of light the twins’ eyes adjusted quickly. It was like being underwater, the light speckling in bands which caught dust beams suspended in the air. “Mom, Dad!” Mabel yelled.

The tulpas and their parents were in the heart of the power plant, the eye of the storm where the light dimmed to acceptable levels to stare without squinting. Mr and Mrs Pines didn’t seem aware of the real twins outside the core, and hadn’t heard Mabel’s calls.

“Finally.” The multi-faceted voice ricocheted into the twins’ ears. The doors leading to the opposite corridor exploded off their hinges. The twins ducked. Swooping in was the enormous four-legged chimaera they’d last seen downtown. He was flying via a pair of wings that had sprouted out of the bark on his back. Each flapping wing was made of a tight coil of paper strands, brown and weathered, covered in scrawl from multiple writers.

Errata hovered above the tulpas and then set himself gently behind them. He held out his arms as if beckoning Mr and Mrs Pines forwards, like an evangelical preacher welcoming his flock. “Oh, that is good!” He primarily sounded like Dipper now, blocking out most of the other voices vying for dominance in the beast’s throat. “One happy family, back together. Isn’t that how it should be?”

Mabel ran towards her parents but came up against the wall of light. She pushed against the translucent barrier, finding herself repelled. “Don’t hurt them! Dipper, do something!”

“I- I don’t know what to do.” From out here the tableau within looked as still as the surface of an undisturbed lake. Neither the fantastical creatures or his parents were moving in the slightest. He reached out with his fingers and brushed the edge of the light core. To his astonishment they passed through the outer barrier.

Mabel watched him intently, then patted her brother on the back. “Dipper, it has to be you!”

“What, why me? You’re a part of this too, we both lied.”

“It’s not about that anymore. Dipper, don’t you get it? Errata, he’s a reflection of you more than anyone else. Think about it. Ford started the journals, sure, but you’ve written the most! You made them your entire life, devoted yourself to mysteries and adventures. You can break through. I believe in you, bro.” She hugged Dipper, then gently guided him towards the core.

As he’d anticipated, he passed through without resistance. The light parted like a curtain to let him approach. “Plus it was your decision to lie in the first place!” Mabel shoved Dipper the rest of the way through the light barrier. “You got this Dip! No backsies!”

“Hey, Mabel! Not fair!” He stumbled and nearly fell over until he righted his sense of balance. He looked forward and swallowed hard. “Oh crap.” The tulpas and his parents had turned to look at him with unanimous blank expressions. Dipper almost felt like laughing when he saw the copies of himself and Mabel up close. Him with his hat down firmly over his forehead, still mired in embarrassment about the birthmark that nowadays he considered nothing more than a fun quirk. Mabel’s purple sweater with a doofy cat wasn’t so different from something she’d still wear, but Dipper recognised the specificity. Both twins looked exactly as they had on the day Dipper had found Journal 3 in the woods. They were unchanged, a snapshot of innocence from that warm summer’s day 17 years ago.

His first thoughts were on practical matters. Ignoring his parents he fixed his glare on Errata’s starry face. The chimaera seemed to be smiling, though as always it was hard to discern. “First things first,” Dipper said. “I want to know how you harnessed the radiation. I’ve no idea where it’s coming from, but I demand you stop. Every second I spend bantering with you we’re all getting irradiated. I’d prefer if my parents didn’t end up mutated. Plus Pacifica and I have already dealt with enough infertility issues to last a lifetime, thank you very much.”

Dipper thought irreverence would be the easiest way to project his authority. Errata didn’t care. He gave a small grunt and shrug of the head that Dipper took to be a laugh. “Haven’t you figured it out yet? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.” Dipper frowned at the perceived insult, both to him and the rest of his family. “There is no radiation.”

Dipper’s jaw dropped open. “But how-“

“Easy. I fed off the symbolic energy of this building.” Errata swept his hands around the room. A faint ectoplasmic glow appeared to hover off the walls before fading. “After you dealt so efficiently with the chaos I’d sown across the city, I was ready to embrace the lurking power. This place is practically drowning in…” Errata sniffed, “significance. All those technicians working here, they couldn’t help but express the way the world thought about it. The totemic fear, cracking the atom, the scientist’s dream of ultimate power. Of course it seeped into the very foundations of the brickwork! Then when it was abandoned it grew to an even greater significance. An enduring relic of man’s folly, of a path science went down before being treated as a dead end. I couldn’t resist the ritual of it all.”

“And now your tulpas are done harvesting all the energy up.”

“Not quite, you still have something of mine.”

Dipper felt in his pocket and found the two tulpas they’d caught, still locked in the form of the amulet and key. Seeing no other option, he held the objects out for Errata to take. He passed one each to the twins’ tulpas, handing the amulet to Mabel and the key to Dipper. It was then that the real Dipper realised the significance of the items. They’d managed to collect each others’ items, but it didn’t matter. These were in fact the very first artefacts the twins had acquired on their adventures, even if only temporarily in the amulet’s case. Dipper even still had the real President’s Key, framed back home.

Dipper slapped his forehead. “I should’ve realised sooner. You’re empathic. I’ve met a few empaths before. All those complicated foreign emotions swirling around must be enough to drive you mad.”

“Very nearly, boy. But I like the aftertaste of discord, the bitter swill of recriminations, smothered sentiment and… regret. Oh, how it feeds me. I was born in the crucible of lies and now it nourishes my soul!”

Dipper stood his ground and scowled. “Don’t think you can scare me. I’ve faced all kinds of psychic assaults. Dream demons who think they know me, regression to past events, I’ve seen it all. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Oh, I don’t want your fear, at least not this tawdry primal stew.” The chimaera’s paper wings swept down to surround Dipper’s parents, who remained oddly unresponsive. “No no no, not the shakiness of terror, the risk of physical hurt, even the potential harm to your loved ones. It’s all part of the game to you. The fear I want is much richer. It’s the fear that people could find out your secret: that you get off on all this.”

Dipper began to sweat and dropped his prepared stance. “You’re wrong.”

“Am I?” Errata snapped his finger, bringing Mr and Mrs Pines back to life.

“Dipper? What’s going on, where are-” Mr Pines gazed up to see Errata towering above him.

“Hi there,” Errata said wickedly. Pacifica’s tone of voice had floated to the top of the pile.“You’re a sick, dirty little addict. Mason ‘Dipper’ ’Ursus’ Pines. You and your sister, sneaking out at night, skipping school, repressing everything. How scrumptious it will be when those emotions come pouring out!”

Mrs Pines began to whimper. “He’s trying to make things worse, don’t listen to him.” Dipper’s parents tried to run free, but the wings kept them surrounded in a cruel embrace.

“Stop it!” he yelled, pushing forwards.

“Not yet.” Errata held out a single one of his six fingers and held Dipper back by the forehead. “Let’s have more of that juicy turmoil hidden behind your astronomical ego. Get the pun?” Dipper shoved the finger away from his birthmark but Errata had another trick up his sleeve.

“Boy, I can’t believe we defeated all those gnomes!” The tulpa of Mabel had spoken, and Dipper knew it was his reflection’s turn next.

“Who knows what other secrets are waiting to be unlocked thanks to this journal!” The copy sounded so eager, so carefree. He was ready to deceive his own parents if it meant there wasn’t even the slimmest chance of losing this new window of opportunity. Both of his parents could see this for themselves, giving disappointed glances at the golden twins, at least when not being intimidated into silence by Errata’s freakish thuggery.

The chimaera himself seemed overwhelmed with pleasure. “Oh, that’s decadent. Who knew one measly human boy could generate such drama.”

“Shut up!” Dipper shouted, surprising Errata. Defiance wasn’t an emotion he’d been expecting. “I’ve had it up to here with your petty taunts! Forget it. I don’t care if my parents don’t approve of my life. I’m an adult, I’ve got a family and responsibilities that I chose, alright. This doesn’t define anything anymore.” Dipper opened Journal 9 and held it for all to see. “Haven’t you got the memo yet, Errata? My parents have all the time in the world now to get to know me and my secrets. You said you were an open book? Well I’ve got dozens of the things lying around at home.” Errata was stunned into silence, and Dipper couldn’t tell if it was from his outburst or the sudden severing of his precious food source.

Dipper looked down from the irrelevant monster and approached his parents. “Yes, Mom, Dad. I lied. I did it because I wanted to have it both ways.” He pointed at his 12-year old self. “I could be ‘Dipper the investigator’, ‘Dipper the cryptid expert’, ‘Dipper the romantic hero’, and still come home and be ‘Mason the ordinary kid’.”

“Oh Dipper.” His mother knelt down and hugged him. “You could have told us and not had to hide any part of yourself.”

“Maybe,” he said, lightly hugging back. “Try telling that to me back then. You might not have understood, even if someone like Ford tried to explain it. There were times that first summer where I thought I couldn’t trust Grunkle Stan, or Mabel, or even my own doppelgangers. The idea of someone who didn’t even know the first thing about magic accepting it off the bat seemed laughable.” He rubbed his neck. “And if we’re being honest, I never really had any friends before that summer. I was a nerd, with freaky forehead acne. Then I found people I could relate to, who lived and breathed weirdness. I didn’t want to lose them as much as the actual adventures.”

Dipper sniffed, and Mr Pines put a supportive hand on his shoulder. “Hey now, we might not get all of this craziness, but we still love you son. None of this can change that. I mean, it’s not like you turned out to be hiding something bad about yourself, is it?”

“Exactly!” His mother was smiling now, almost forgetting where they were. “We never knew you had such a capacity to draw and write, in such detail.”

“Yeah, those tulpa things could only be so accurate if the source material already was, right? Lifelike doesn’t even begin to cover it! Then there’s Mabel, doing all those fancy spells. I never thought my little girl had it in her! Or Zera, she leapt into action to save us, near-strangers. If that isn’t heroic I don’t know what is.”

“And what about little Merrise, who was so brave to endure so much. If you hadn’t told us the truth we’d never know har far you’d all come.”

“And Pacifica, she… did we learn anything new about Pacifica, Mary?”

“I don’t think so.“ His parents laughed. “Well she’s a wonderful person as well, I’m sure she’ll be a great mother to Wendy and Merrise.”

“Thanks,” Dipper said, smiling and holding back tears. “It means a lot, to hear all that from you after so long.”

“C’mon Dipper!” Dipper looked up. Errata was frozen with a pensive expression. The tulpa of Mabel was leading her brother away. “Let’s go find another adventure in Gravity Falls.” The echoes of the twins wandered away, past Errata, before disappearing into the light. A cascade of golden energy flowed into Errata a moment later, but he didn’t react.

“I think I get it now,” he said, with an almost eerie calmness. He stumbled on his hind legs as if drunk. “I thought the potential of that trapped doubt and guilt was all I needed. But this, this cocktail of missed opportunity and exuberant acceptance, a new beginning… It’s a heady mix.”

“It’s an all new flavour of emotion. I like it too,” Dipper said softly. Errata smiled, and for the first time it wasn’t in a mocking way.

His brutish hands were almost graceful as they reached out to a sunbeam, catching falling dust motes in his palm. “Here I was thinking I knew you Dipper Pines. Perhaps I only knew your imprint. All your years jumbled together on the pages of the journals. None of them could quite capture who you are in the present.”

Dipper noticed the mood around them had subtly changed. There was a satisfying warmth in the reactor room, and the light was no longer harsh to the eye. It was a pleasant orange, like the light of a roaring campfire or a homely hearth. Dipper saw his sister waving, back by the entrance. She could tell something positive had taken place.

Errata creaked as he stretched out his trunk neck. “Thank you. For showing me there can be other paths. Perhaps we will meet again, and I can return the favour.” Errata stood in place, but the room began to shake.

Dipper was the first to cotton on to what was about to happen. He took his parents by the hand and backed away from his indirect creation, offering a grin of support before turning to leave.

“What the heck is-” Mabel was cut off as Dipper ran past, adding her hand to the list and dragging her away. Sprinting out, they stopped in the control room for only a second.

“Time to go guys,” Dipper said to Pacifica and Merrise, who looked relieved to see them all unharmed. The quakes became more violent, knocking over desks and computers, which let off a flurry of electrical sparks.

Dipper spared only a single glance down into the reactor. The light was building in intensity again. Errata was blurred and indistinct. Dipper lingered until he became completely obscured, and was the last to run out of the main block after his family. They continued to run until they reached the parking lot. Zera was standing outside the car, mouth agape watching as the entire plant shone like the sun.

A sudden gust of air blew inwards toward the reactor, dimming the light as it went. The Pines family watched in amazement as there was sudden implosion, with all the light focusing into one point at the centre of the plant before shooting upwards like a searchlight’s beam straight up into the night sky. The roof of the reactor room blew outwards, sending concrete walls catapulting away. Amongst the devastation, Dipper smiled when he saw a brief vision of Errata, racing away into the stars up above.

Then it was all over. The light dissipated, the earth was still, and the danger was over. They all let out deep breaths of relief and looked around at each other, celebrating the fact they’d survived together.

“It’s over.” Mrs Pines had spoken. Her gaze was fixed on the sky. “Where-”

“It’s not important,” Dipper said. “He’s nothing anymore. Merely a footnote. What’s really important is the story we write next.” He showed his parents the cover of Journal 9, with the same starry pattern as Errata’s face. It glimmered in the half-light of the moon. Dipper looked expectantly at the two of them. “So? What do you say? Want to add your own touch?”

His parents shared only a short look, before taking Journal 9 and turning it to the latest blank page. Marc and Mary Pines would be the latest in a long line to lend a small part of themselves to the ever expanding tapestry started in Gravity Falls so many years ago.

“Great, world’s saved again,” Zera yawned. “Now can we please go home and get some sleep?”

[spartacus80]

Embarking on a road trip along the North Coast 500 (NC500) in the stunning Scottish Highlands is a dream come true for any avid traveler. The NC500 offers a breathtaking journey through some of Scotland's most picturesque landscapes, from rugged coastlines to towering mountains, with the promise of kind-hearted locals, thrilling roads, historic castles, tranquil lochs, fine whisky, and delicious food along the way. Imagine a trip where every day feels like a postcard-worthy adventure, and you've got the NC500.

The North Coast 500 is a 516-mile circular route that starts and ends in Inverness. The journey takes you along the coast, offering an ever-changing panorama of breathtaking scenery. The route passes through quaint villages, historic towns, and remote wilderness, providing a well-rounded experience of the Scottish Highlands.

One of the highlights of our NC500 adventure was the incredible weather we experienced. Scotland is notorious for its unpredictable climate, but we were fortunate to have mostly sunny and clear days. This meant that we could fully appreciate the mesmerizing landscapes, from the azure waters of the North Sea to the emerald green fields and dramatic mountain ranges.

The Scottish Highlands are not just known for their natural beauty but also for the warmth of their people. Everywhere we went, we encountered friendly locals who were more than happy to share their stories and offer helpful advice. Their welcoming nature made our journey all the more memorable.

For those who enjoy the thrill of the open road, the NC500 doesn't disappoint. The route is dotted with winding, narrow roads that snake through the countryside, offering a truly exhilarating driving experience. The famous Bealach na Bà, a steep and winding mountain pass, is a highlight for adventure-seeking drivers. Each twist and turn reveals a new breathtaking vista.

No trip to Scotland would be complete without exploring its rich history, and the NC500 offers plenty of opportunities to do just that. We visited historic castles like Dunrobin Castle and the iconic Eilean Donan Castle, set against the backdrop of sparkling lochs and lush landscapes. It felt like stepping back in time.

Whisky lovers will be in their element along the NC500 route. We stopped at several distilleries to sample some of Scotland's finest single malts. From the peaty flavors of Islay to the smooth Speyside varieties, each distillery had its unique character and charm. It's an excellent way to appreciate Scotland's national drink in its homeland.

Foodies will relish the chance to savor traditional Scottish dishes on this journey. We indulged in hearty meals like haggis, neeps, and tatties, as well as freshly caught seafood in coastal villages. And let's not forget about the famous Scottish breakfasts that kept us energized for our daily adventures.

Our road trip along the NC500 in the Scottish Highlands was nothing short of magical. With perfect weather, warm-hearted locals, thrilling drives, historic landmarks, whisky tastings, and mouthwatering cuisine, it's a journey that will forever hold a special place in our hearts. If you're seeking an unforgettable adventure that combines nature's grandeur with cultural richness, the NC500 is the perfect route to explore. It's an experience that will leave you with cherished memories and a deep appreciation for the wonders of Scotland's Highlands.

[wordsyettocome]

The Pillar

The restaurant’s tables were inside remodeled cars, with the doors removed and lined around the edges of the circular room. As the diners sipped champagne and ate caviar, the whole restaurants slowly revolved around a stationary bar, giving everyone panoramic views of the city through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

On this particular night, however, a storm had turned the usually scenic view into a featureless blur. Wanting to make the best of the evening, the diners in one of the cars had a bet on who could tell the best story over dinner, with the listeners as judges. The winner got to choose who would pay.

This prompted a series of funny and often scandalous stories, growing louder and louder until some of the other guests started to leave early.

The last storyteller was a young banker, and his mostly drunk audience kept trying to sabotage his story, laughing at nothing in particular and attempting to refill his glass, spilling wine onto the pristine white tablecloth.

The young man hesitantly began to tell a tale of his childhood, but as he spoke, his story took on a life of its own, like it was telling itself. Maybe it was the wine, but his listeners began to feel as if they were really all trapped in a car in a rainy city, watching the story’s action unfold.

 Two women, one of the women’s brothers, and a little boy were driving slowly and carefully, because hardly anything could be seen through the windshield.

The women were quietly grumbling and the man was shaking his head in disbelief. Only the little boy in the backseat was unfazed, making revving noises while dragging his toy truck along the backs of the seats and the door.

A flash of lightning lit up the landscape around them, buildings and cars and a telephone pole. The little boy looked up with interest.

“We’re going to be late,” said the driver.

“With weather like this, everyone else will probably be late too,” said her wife comfortingly.

They drove on in silence for a minute.

Then the woman in the passenger seat suddenly said, “That’s odd. A telephone pole shouldn’t be here.”

“What?”

“I thought I saw a telephone pole just now.”

“It was a street light,” said her brother in the backseat.

“It was too tall to be a street light.”

Another flash of lightning caught them by surprise, but this one was so bright, for a second it was as bright as daytime.

The driver was so shocked, she almost swerved, and her wife had to reach across and steady the steering wheel for her.

“I saw it again!” she said. “But it’s too thick to be a telephone pole.”

“It can’t be the same one,” her brother pointed out.

“You’re right. What is it, then?”

“Scaffolding for construction, maybe?”

The cars in front stopped, probably for a red light. The driver tapped her thumb on the wheel impatiently.

Then the man gave a cry of alarm. A black pillar was standing directly outside the car.

The driver swore, then clapped her hand over her mouth.

“What’s that?” said the boy, speaking for the first time.

“Don’t look, honey,” said the woman in the passenger seat.

“It’s a trick of the light,” said the young man, hopefulness in his voice.

The boy kept staring through the window, and slowly all sounds faded away, and he knew the black thing was a creature, though he couldn’t say what.

Although the boy couldn’t see its head – if it had a head – he felt like he was somehow staring into its soul. It was like a silent understanding of something the boy was too young to articulate.

The car lurched forward, and the boy twisted in his seat, straining to see the creature as they left it behind, but his uncle gently pushed him back down.

 “I don’t remember this building being here,” said one of the women listening to the story.

The young banker, still in a trance, turned to the window where she was pointing.

A tall, black pillar was standing near the window of the restaurant. It had no windows and didn’t seem to be made of metal.

For a moment, the banker thought it was part of his story. But as the diner’s chatter and lounge music crept back into his senses, he realized what was happening and his eyes widened.

Something crashed into the restaurant’s ceiling, and chunks of plaster and pieces of chandeliers came down on the restaurant.

Then icy rain came in, immediately forming huge puddles on the floor. Tables were overturned by the wind, and food went flying. In a panic, diners ran into the hallway.

It took the story’s listeners a couple of seconds to snap back to reality and stumble out of the car.

But the young banker took cover in the bar and lingered behind. He tried to see what had crashed into the restaurant, but there was nothing. He could only see the tall black creature, disappearing into the rainclouds.

“What are you?” the young man shouted.

As soon as he said it, he realized he knew. He had no words for this knowledge, could not form a picture of it, but he knew. And it had somehow emerged during this dinner, on a similarly rainy evening as the car ride years ago.

Wanting to return to reality, the banker sprinted out of the restaurant.

All the elevators were occupied taking other diners downstairs. It was more than 40 stories to the ground, making even those not afraid of heights desperate to get off the roof.

 When the poor young man got to the foyer, the other diners, their hair wild and clothes soaked through, were phoning their chauffeurs to bring their cars around. Staff were handing out towels and bathrobes.

The young banker joined the other people he had been eating with, who all looked at him strangely.

“What was the point of that story anyway?” one of his listeners, an old and grumpy man, demanded.

“I’m sorry,” said the young banker. “I was going to talk about the magic show we were going to see. I guess I got … carried away.”

The others began to discuss whose story had been the best, and the young banker stepped out the front door, wringing out his wet jacket.

“It’s like he put a spell on us,” he heard another of the women say.

The young banker was still deep in thought, and when his friends came to tell him that he had earned the “privilege” of paying for them all, he barely reacted.

He could feel something unfurling in his chest, something long-dormant that had been awoken. He bore an untold story inside him, and the more times he told it, the more the knowledge he had held for so long would make sense.

Inspired by this prompt by @love-me-a-good-prompt​

[nottinghamstrategicpartners]

Highfields Park: A Haven for Outdoor Recreation and Relaxation in the Heart of the City

Located just a few miles from the city center of Nottingham, Highfields Park is a stunning oasis of natural beauty and outdoor recreation. Set against the backdrop of the University of Nottingham's main campus, this 121-acre park is an ideal place for visitors to escape the hustle and bustle of the city and enjoy a peaceful day out in nature.

Originally designed by renowned landscape architect Percy Cane in the 1920s, Highfields Park has a rich history and is home to a diverse range of flora and fauna. Visitors can explore the park's beautiful gardens, woodlands, and lakes, and spot a variety of birdlife, such as great crested grebes, tufted ducks, and kingfishers.

One of the park's main attractions is its large boating lake, which is a popular spot for boating and fishing. Visitors can hire rowing boats or pedalos and enjoy a leisurely ride around the lake, taking in the picturesque views of the surrounding parkland. Fishing enthusiasts can also try their luck at catching perch, roach, and bream in the lake.

Highfields Park also boasts a number of walking and cycling trails, which are perfect for visitors who want to explore the park's natural beauty on foot or by bike. The park's circular walk takes visitors on a scenic route around the lake and through the woodlands, and is a great way to take in the park's stunning scenery.

For those who want to get active, the park has a range of sports facilities, including a cricket pitch, tennis courts, and a mini-golf course. The park is also home to a large play area for children, which features a range of climbing frames, slides, and swings.

One of the park's most striking features is the lakeside Chinese garden, which was added to the park in the 1990s. This beautiful garden was designed by Chinese landscape architect, Deng Zhongjia, and is a peaceful oasis of calm, with traditional Chinese architecture, water features, and a variety of rare plants.

Throughout the year, Highfields Park plays host to a range of events and activities, including open-air theater performances, live music concerts, and community festivals. The park is also home to a number of seasonal events, such as the annual Nottingham Green Festival and the Winter Wonderland festival, which takes place during the festive season.

One of the best things about Highfields Park is that it's accessible to all. The park is open all year round, and admission is free, making it an affordable day out for families, couples, and individuals. The park is also easily accessible by public transport, with regular bus services running from the city center.

In recent years, the park has undergone a number of improvements, including the restoration of the lakeside walkway and the installation of new benches and picnic tables. The park's boathouse and café have also been renovated, and now offer visitors a range of refreshments and light snacks.

As well as being a popular destination for visitors, Highfields Park is also an important resource for the local community. The park provides a much-needed green space for residents of the surrounding areas, and plays an important role in promoting physical activity, wellbeing, and social interaction.

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[kuwdora]

THE BLUE HOUSE by Dilman Dila (a publisher's excerpt from the collection Africa Risen: A New Era of Speculative Fiction)

A house loomed on the horizon, bright blue walls stuck out of gray rocks, barely discernible against the bare sky. Cana-B70 activated the telephoto in her eyes, and the lens whirred. Discs turned in her head with a scratching sound, prompting maintenance.sys to send yet another note to Katwe Garage. Her Outbox bulged, bloated with rejection. The lens failed to protrude. She launched the PhotoEdit App and zoomed in on the picture of the landscape, cropping out the house and ending up with a heavily pixelated image. The scratching grew louder as mem.sys scanned billions of media files in her drive to understand the house. It appeared circular, with a cone-shaped roof, much like the peasant huts in some of the photos she had, dated five hundred years ago. The late-afternoon sun bounced off its roof, and she thought she could smell the paint. In contrast, recent pictures of buildings had roofs that were too rusted to reflect any light, if any roof remained at all, and walls bled bare of paint. She searched the pixels around the house for evidence of a civilization that maintained the property. Nothing. Just bare gray rocks crowding an impossibly new house.

Perhaps it is a mirage.

Her system hung up. The discs stopped scratching, the gears in her belly ceased whirring, and the fans on her back froze. She had had a thought.… Mem.sys had not made calculations on image comparisons to associate the house with an illusion. It had received data from somewhere; something had whispered. She checked the address of the sender and found a strange program in a chip inside her head, Organic.sys, whose metadata identified it as a secondary operating system. It had become corrupted and, exactly fifty years, eight months, twenty-four days, six hours, forty minutes, and five seconds ago, had stopped functioning. Organic.sys sent another data packet to auto-correct “stopped functioning.” Died. A memory purge had cleaned her system of the dead program, and yet, here it was, sending her data like a ghost whispering to a child.

Refresh.sys auto-started, the gears resumed their gentle hum, and Organic.sys auto-launched out of its grave. Security.sys tried to shut it down, but mem.sys overrode security, for it wanted to understand what was happening. The gears in her belly clanked and rattled as Organic.sys struggled to hold on to the thought, to nudge it back to levels that it told mem.sys were human. Am I still alive? Her power usage shot up and heat rose in her belly, making her insides hotter than the rock on which she stood. The fans on her back doubled their rounds per minute, and the liquid in her chest encasing CPU-3, the only processor still functioning, froze to keep it cool. Too late. Mem.sys closed Organic.sys, but CPU-3 overclocked, and shut down, plunging her into blackness.

read the full excerpt from The Blue House by Dilman Dila

Robot disabilities. Robot who charges slowly and loses power incredibly fast and is always tired. Robot with malfunctioning lenses and can’t process visual information properly. Robot that can’t process anything too large and at a fast rate or else they’ll shut down. Robot with limbs screwed on too loose/just can’t attach correctly, so if they’re not careful they fall out. Robot disabilities,,,