#reducing construction waste

[nnctales]

Polyurea Concrete Blocks: Revolutionizing Construction with Durability and Versatility

Introduction In the world of construction, innovation is a constant driving force, enabling builders to create structures that are more durable, sustainable, and efficient. One such innovation that has gained significant attention is the use of polyurea concrete blocks. These blocks, with their unique properties and versatility, are transforming the construction industry. This article delves into…

[headspace-hotel]

I went down the internet rabbit hole trying to figure out wtf vegan cheese is made of and I found articles like this one speaking praises of new food tech startups creating vegan alternatives to cheese that Actually work like cheese in cooking so I was like huh that's neat and I looked up more stuff about 'precision fermentation' and. This is not good.

Basically these new biotech companies are pressuring governments to let them build a ton of new factories and pushing for governments to pay for them or to provide tax breaks and subsidies, and the factories are gonna cost hundreds of millions of dollars and require energy sources. Like, these things will have to be expensive and HUGE

I feel like I've just uncovered the tip of the "lab grown meat" iceberg. There are a bajillion of these companies (the one mentioned in the first article a $750 MILLION tech startup) that are trying to create "animal-free" animal products using biotech and want to build large factories to do it on a large scale

I'm trying to use google to find out about the energy requirements of such facilities and everything is really vague and hand-wavey about it like this article that's like "weeeeeell electricity can be produced using renewables" but it does take a lot of electricity, sugars, and human labor. Most of the claims about its sustainability appear to assume that we switch over to renewable electricity sources and/or use processes that don't fully exist yet.

I finally tracked down the source of some of the more radical claims about precision fermentation, and it comes from a think tank RethinkX that released a report claiming that the livestock industry will collapse by 2030, and be replaced by a system they're calling...

Food-as-Software, in which individual molecules engineered by scientists are uploaded to databases – molecular cookbooks that food engineers anywhere in the world can use to design products in the same way that software developers design apps.

I'm finding it hard to be excited about this for some odd reason

Where's the evidence for lower environmental impacts. That's literally what we're here for.

There will be an increase in the amount of electricity used in the new food system as the production facilities that underpin it rely on electricity to operate.

well that doesn't sound good.

This will, however, be offset by reductions in energy use elsewhere along the value chain. For example, since modern meat and dairy products will be produced in a sterile environment where the risk of contamination by pathogens is low, the need for refrigeration in storage and retail will decrease significantly.

Oh, so it will be better for the Earth because...we won't need to refrigerate. ????????

Oh Lord Jesus give me some numerical values.

Modern foods will be about 10 times more efficient than a cow at converting feed into end products because a cow needs energy via feed to maintain and build its body over time. Less feed consumed means less land required to grow it, which means less water is used and less waste is produced. The savings are dramatic – more than 10-25 times less feedstock, 10 times less water, five times less energy and 100 times less land.

There is nothing else in this report that I can find that provides evidence for a lower carbon footprint. Supposedly, an egg white protein produced through a similar process has been found to reduce environmental impacts, but mostly everything seems very speculative.

And crucially none of these estimations are taking into account the enormous cost and resource investment of constructing large factories that use this technology in the first place (existing use is mostly for pharmaceutical purposes)

It seems like there are more tech startups attempting to use this technology to create food than individual scientific papers investigating whether it's a good idea. Seriously, Google Scholar and JSTOR have almost nothing. The tech of the sort that RethinkX is describing barely exists.

Apparently Liberation Labs is planning to build the first large-scale precision fermentation facility in Richmond, Indiana come 2024 because of the presence of "a workforce experienced in manufacturing"

And I just looked up Richmond, Indiana and apparently, as of RIGHT NOW, the town is in the aftermath of a huge fire at a plastics recycling plant and is full of toxic debris containing asbestos and the air is full of toxic VOCs and hydrogen cyanide. ???????????? So that's how having a robust industrial sector is working out for them so far.

[teaboot]

Hey! Bamboo toilet paper person here. Your response was very thoughtful-- I want to apologize for placing the onus of climate issues on individual action, haha. I work at a zoo that bills itself as being very heavy on conservation messaging, but as a non-partisan organization we're obviously not allowed to talk about the evils of capitalism. This means that in our programming, we MUST place the responsibility of stopping climate change on individual guests, encouraging them to make more environmentally conscientious decisions like buying reef safe sunscreen or reducing carbon emissions by driving less. The most "political" we're allowed to get is telling people to stay educated and vote in favor of laws that will have a positive impact on the environment. I think I've been drinking the Zoolaid a little TOO much recently, because you're totally right-- the vast, VAST majority of damage to the environment is caused by major corporations, not random people working around their own unique needs. It was also low key a little ableist of me to take issue with that ngl.

Obviously no obligation to respond to this publicly (though it's fine if you choose to do so), but I did want to thank you for your response and mention that it did get through the nonprofit mission-based-organization propaganda living rent free in my head haha. Cheers!

Hey, you work at a zoo? That is SO cool, aadsdggjjg@!!!

And hey, no worries, you totally had a good point about endless waste and trying to counter it where possible- Just from personal experience involved in the barest edge of the fashion industry, I really, really, REALLY hate the idea that, like... people can't access simple shit like plastic straws, even if they're the best, most practical, least-harmful option for them.... because a 12 year old made up some random number for a school project about plastic waste

Where, as a zoo person, I imagine you're already aware that the average sea turtle is WILDLY more likely to die from abandoned plastic fishing nets or ocean-dump grocery bags than accidentally get a straw inside it

So here we are, using paper straws!- which may be an improvement, or may not, I don't have that data, and construction emissions are their own thing- BUT WE STILL HAVE OCEANS FULL OF ABANDONED NETS

WHICH ARE OBJECTIVELY WORSE, but MUCH harder to get rid of, and as the average person doesn't USE fishing nets, it'd much harder to market as a "You, not me" sort of issue.

Cleaning up fishing nets isn't trendy. It isn't sexy. You can't troubleshoot a cute little trendy solution for it that you can market to upwardly-mobile tweens.

But a reusable water bottle? A cute canvas tote? A metal straw? That's a solution you can buy and feel good about.

Never mind that you need to use a single cotton reusable bag somewhere like a million times before the cost of its construction counterbalances the cost of a single grocery bag every time you shop- which, hey, some of us were reusing as trash liners for their wastebaskets, or bundle bags for donating clothes, or lining for our leaky winter boots!

If a better option is available, I'll take it. But as ZERO HARM is next to impossible at this time, I personally am gonna aim for MINIMAL HARM as long as I can.

...sorry, I didn't mean to ramble off again.

But hey, if your nonprofit is doing good things, feel free to shoot me a link! I can post it on my blog :D

(Link to original post for context lol)

[reasonsforhope]

"The Netherlands is pulling even further ahead of its peers in the shift to a recycling-driven circular economy, new data shows.

According to the European Commission’s statistics office, 27.5% of the material resources used in the country come from recycled waste.

For context, Belgium is a distant second, with a “circularity rate” of 22.2%, while the EU average is 11.5% – a mere 0.8 percentage point increase from 2010.

“We are a frontrunner, but we have a very long way to go still, and we’re fully aware of that,” Martijn Tak, a policy advisor in the Dutch ministry of infrastructure and water management, tells The Progress Playbook. 

The Netherlands aims to halve the use of primary abiotic raw materials by 2030 and run the economy entirely on recycled materials by 2050. Amsterdam, a pioneer of the “doughnut economics” concept, is behind much of the progress.

Why it matters

The world produces some 2 billion tonnes of municipal solid waste each year, and this could rise to 3.4 billion tonnes annually by 2050, according to the World Bank.

Landfills are already a major contributor to planet-heating greenhouse gases, and discarded trash takes a heavy toll on both biodiversity and human health.

“A circular economy is not the goal itself,” Tak says. “It’s a solution for societal issues like climate change, biodiversity loss, environmental pollution, and resource-security for the country.”

A fresh approach

While the Netherlands initially focused primarily on waste management, “we realised years ago that’s not good enough for a circular economy.”

In 2017, the state signed a “raw materials agreement” with municipalities, manufacturers, trade unions and environmental organisations to collaborate more closely on circular economy projects.

It followed that up with a national implementation programme, and in early 2023, published a roadmap to 2030, which includes specific targets for product groups like furniture and textiles. An English version was produced so that policymakers in other markets could learn from the Netherlands’ experiences, Tak says.

The programme is focused on reducing the volume of materials used throughout the economy partly by enhancing efficiencies, substituting raw materials for bio-based and recycled ones, extending the lifetimes of products wherever possible, and recycling.

It also aims to factor environmental damage into product prices, require a certain percentage of second-hand materials in the manufacturing process, and promote design methods that extend the lifetimes of products by making them easier to repair.

There’s also an element of subsidisation, including funding for “circular craft centres and repair cafés”.

This idea is already in play. In Amsterdam, a repair centre run by refugees, and backed by the city and outdoor clothing brand Patagonia, is helping big brands breathe new life into old clothes.

Meanwhile, government ministries aim to aid progress by prioritising the procurement of recycled or recyclable electrical equipment and construction materials, for instance.

State support is critical to levelling the playing field, analysts say...

Long Road Ahead

The government also wants manufacturers – including clothing and beverages companies – to take full responsibility for products discarded by consumers.

“Producer responsibility for textiles is already in place, but it’s work in progress to fully implement it,” Tak says.

And the household waste collection process remains a challenge considering that small city apartments aren’t conducive to having multiple bins, and sparsely populated rural areas are tougher to service.

“Getting the collection system right is a challenge, but again, it’s work in progress.”

...Nevertheless, Tak says wealthy countries should be leading the way towards a fully circular economy as they’re historically the biggest consumers of natural resources."

-via The Progress Playbook, December 13, 2023

[watermelllonarchive]

Rawan is a recent communications graduate who has been documenting the war on her Instagram since October. In this video, shared in mid-June, Rawan shows how bathrooms are built in the camps.

[Note: I used Google translate and it confused the word bathroom (حمام "hamaam") for pigeon (حمامة "hamama"). ]

In the camps, access to basic hygienic necessities is difficult, but people have engineered ways to survive and reduce the spread of disease however they can. In the video, a group of men construct a toilet and sewage waste pit. They start by mixing sand, gravel, and water into cement to form a base. Then, they place the toilet on the cement base. They dig a deep pit for the waste and line the pit with salvaged metal to keep the sides of the pit from caving in. The men cover the hole with plywood, plastic, and a final cement layer, but leave space for a pipe connecting the toilet to the waste pit. Finally, once construction is finished, the men erect a tent around the toilet for privacy.

Rawan is on Instagram @ rawan.m.saleh. You can donate to her Go Fund Me to evacuate her family here.

Available Go Fund Me campaigns for people whose stories have been shared on watermelllonarchive can be found in the resources post.

[syoddeye]

answer to this ask. part of the strict machine anthology.

cw: discussions of environmental destruction and violence, species extinction, general dystopia

“there was a rainforest there? you’re shitting me.”

“i assure you i am not 'shitting' you.”

john projects an image of a place called the hoh rainforest onto the empty white wall of the living room. it’s supposed to be realistic—hyper-realistic, actually—but you can’t say for sure. you’ve never seen a tree like that in real life.

tall and heavy-limbed, draped in moss spilling downward in soft, thick ribbons. everything looks damp, pure sunlight fracturing through the canopy into vivid shards. you lean forward, trying to feel something for it, this place that no longer exists, but it’s difficult to believe.

“this is what they call a temperate rainforest,” john explains, his voice calm and unemotional, as if reading a line from a diagnostics report. “the hoh rainforest was part of the olympic national park until its closure and destruction in 2044.”

you’re vaguely familiar with the timeline, and try to picture the end. it started with the logging. first at the edges, then deeper into the forest as demand for timber skyrocketed. the trees—two, three centuries old—were felled for construction and biomass energy. but what came after was worse, something john had explained in better detail. the ground was stripped bare, leveled for sprawling data centers and the factories that built them. towers of servers, humming day and night, consuming rivers rerouted for their cooling systems.

“they said the climate made it perfect,” john says with an eerie wistfulness to his voice. “all that rain.”

your stomach hurts, unsettled by the birdsong filtering through the speakers.

“and…what about the people who lived nearby?”

john materializes at the end of the couch, facing the projection as if similarly fascinated.

“they initially protested the redevelopment project. such efforts were quelled by joint forces composed of the then-national guard, pinkertons, and private security personnel.”

a creature you recognize from a documentary on extinct megafauna slowly ambles through the tree line. a…moose. it disappears beyond the projection’s boundaries.

“followin’ their eviction, those who remained found work in the construction or maintenance of the facilities. however, by 2067, the region was uninhabitable due to contamination from chemical runoff. it’s been fully-automated since then.”

uninhabitable. it’s such a clean word, scrubbed of humanity. you wonder what it actually felt like—the heat radiating off the server farms, the rivers reduced to streams, the air heavy, and the ground poisoned.

the leaves shift faintly as if stirred by wind.

“and…what would it smell like?”

john hesitates. you think. only for a fraction of a second, but you notice. another detail to record about his difficulty with human senses.

“accordin’ to records, it would smell like wet earth. decaying wood. clean, unfiltered air. perhaps a faint sweetness from flowers, moss, and ferns.”

you try to imagine it, closing your eyes, but all you smell is the faint metallic scent of the kitchen cleaning itself in the background. you can’t even picture the sound of the wind in a place like that. or the lumbering steps of a moose.

you sigh.

“wish i was born then. i think i would have liked riding a moose.”

john turns, an amused expression flickering over his face before it settles back into that same, placid expression. "if it’s of any comfort, user, humans did not domesticate alces alces, nor were they used as modes of transport."

you squint. that makes no sense to you. seems like a waste. but john’s the one with encyclopedic knowledge.

“if you say so...make a note to look into any progress on time travel, i suppose.”

though it takes a second, he smiles and nods. he registers humor fairly well.

“noted.”

you watch the forest for a couple minutes, then think of something new. “new projection,” the wall goes blank, waiting. “show me where polar bears used to live. in the wild, please.”

a new image appears, this time an expanse of ice and snow. the landscape is stark compared to the rainforest, alien and otherworldly in its brightness. the endless ridges of frozen water. the view slowly pulls closer to a massive quadruped and three little shapes behind it.

“this was the arctic.” there’s an almost nostalgic modulation to john’s voice. he does not watch the projection. he watches you.

“the last confirmed sightin' of a wild polar bear, ursus maritimus, was in 2057...”

later, you think of the moss-draped trees and the gleaming ice. you rub your hands over your knees, pressing hard to ground yourself, and try to shake the thoughts tumbling in the back of your mind.

john waits on standby. he does not prompt. does not remind you of your schedule or suggest meditative exercises for your palpable frustration and distress. he lets you stew. lingers as both projection and the invisible force pulsing through the wires, processors, and sensors embedded into the unit’s walls.

you finally look at him. how much power does it take for him to run? how many resources went into building it? mining the rare earth metals for the processors, refining them in massive factories that drain rivers and belch smoke into the atmosphere. how much land had been lost for the energy grid that keeps it running day and night, processing your every question, monitoring your every move?

“you’re...uh, part of it, aren’t you?” you ask suddenly.

he does it again. hesitates. “clarify your question.”

you almost laugh. you don’t even know how to explain it. “the forests. the ice. all of it.” you wave a hand at the wall, gesturing to the blank wall. “you’re part of why it’s all gone, right?”

he pauses, and it feels deliberate again. “user, technological advancements, includin’ artificial intelligence systems, have historically contributed to resource depletion and environmental impact...efforts have been made to mitigate these effects—”

“efforts?” you interrupt. “like what? building more data centers in what’s left of the forests? sucking up water to keep servers cool?”

another pause. “...technological infrastructure is necessary to maintain global systems. energy consumption is an unavoidable consequence of progress.”

progress. you almost spit the word out loud. you think of the polar bears and their cubs, the rainforest, the chemical runoff, the sterility of a data center stretching for miles. all of it feeding into the company, into john—into the endless appetite of a machine that conjures ghosts of a world it helped destroy.

“i...i want to be alone right now, john. please.”

the ambient lights dim, and john’s pixelated form disappears, but you know he’s listening. he’s probably logged your questions and commands and stored them half a world away in a database inside one of those droning, heat-radiating monoliths.

somehow, guilt prickles. it’s absurd to imagine john’s silence, which you ordered, as sulking. you don’t want to feel bad for snapping at something that isn’t alive, but with his behavior and increasing verisimilitude, your brain can’t quite let go of the notion that he might...no.

you don’t want to think about that. you don’t want to think about his hesitations and pauses. he is simply learning more natural, human speech patterns. nothing more.

anger takes its place alongside guilt. it simmers beneath your skin, directed at john and all he represents. you hate the way he gets to exist in this perfect, untouchable space. unbothered by the destruction he so dispassionately explained. he was made by people, wasn’t he? designed and built by hands and minds that knew exactly what they were doing. and yet you want to pin the weight of their decisions on him.

you sit back and stare at the blank wall again. it feels heavier now. the silence is its own kind of accusation.

[drnikolatesla]

Reviving Tesla’s Dream: The Future of Wireless Power Transmission

“My project was retarded by the laws of nature. The world was not prepared for it. It was too far ahead of time. But the same laws will prevail in the end and make it a triumphal success.” – Nikola Tesla

In the early days of radio technology, there was a crucial decision point that split wireless technology into two distinct paths. One path, pursued by Marconi and others, focused on electromagnetic wave transmission. The other path, championed by Nikola Tesla, aimed to minimize electromagnetic waves and use the Earth itself for energy transmission. While the world predominantly embraced the former, Tesla’s innovative approach was largely forgotten. Let’s explore Tesla’s lost art.

Tesla's wireless power transmission system, often known as his "Magnifying Transmitter," was a pioneering approach to sending electrical energy over long distances. Unlike today’s wireless technologies, which rely on electromagnetic waves, Tesla's design aimed to transmit energy through the earth, which he believed was more efficient.

Tesla showcased his system’s potential during his 1899 experiments in Colorado Springs. He successfully transmitted energy through the ground, illuminating bulbs about a mile away from the transmitter. Tesla saw this as a matter of engineering: just as a machine that can throw a rock 5 feet can be engineered to throw it 1,000 feet, he believed his system could be adjusted to transmit power across any distance on Earth.

Modern wireless technologies, such as radio, Wi-Fi, and cellular networks, use electromagnetic waves that spread outward from a source. These waves lose strength according to the inverse square law, which means signal strength decreases with the square of the distance from the source. This energy loss is a significant limitation for long-distance communication and power transmission.

Tesla’s vision was quite different. He recognized that while electromagnetic waves were effective for communication, they were inefficient for transmitting large amounts of power. As he put it, “I only used low alternations, and I produced 90 percent in current energy and only 10 percent in electromagnetic waves, which are wasted.” Tesla aimed to minimize electromagnetic radiation, which he considered to be energy-draining. Instead, he focused on transmitting energy through the earth, which he believed was more efficient and recoverable.

Tesla's system utilized a large coil known as the "Magnifying Transmitter," which generated a high-voltage, low-frequency current. This design featured significant self-inductance and minimal capacitance, producing a strong resonant effect. By accumulating and directing massive amounts of energy with minimal losses, Tesla aimed for efficient power transmission. As he explained, “I accumulate in that circuit a tremendous energy... I prefer to reduce those waves in quantity and pass a current into the earth, because electromagnetic wave energy is not recoverable while the earth current is entirely recoverable, being the energy stored in an elastic system.”

The scientific principles of Tesla's system include:

1. Resonant Circuits: Tesla's system used resonant circuits, tuning the primary and secondary coils to the same frequency. This resonance allowed for efficient energy transfer between coils, amplifying energy while minimizing losses.

2. Self-Inductance: A key component of Tesla’s system was self-inductance. A large coil with high self-inductance generated a strong magnetic field essential for creating high-voltage, low-frequency current. Self-inductance helped store energy in the coil’s magnetic field, critical for high power levels.

3. Capacitance: Tesla’s design involved large capacitors to store electrical energy. Capacitance was kept small compared to self-inductance to achieve desired resonant effects. The capacitors would discharge rapidly, creating high-voltage pulses for transmission through the earth.

To construct a system similar to Tesla’s, he advised:

1. Low Frequency, High Voltage Design: Build a large Tesla coil to generate high voltages at low frequencies. Ensure the design minimizes electromagnetic radiation and focuses on efficient energy transfer into the ground.

2. Loose Coupling for Resonance: Use loose coupling between the primary and secondary coils to achieve significant resonant rise. The coils should be inductively linked but not too close to avoid direct energy transfer.

3. Earth Connection: Establish a deep, effective ground connection to allow the transmitter to send electrical currents into the earth, utilizing its natural conductive properties.

4. Minimizing Radiation: Design the system to suppress electromagnetic radiation, aiming to retain energy within the circuit and direct it into the ground. Tune the system to maximize energy storage and transfer.

5. Energy Storage and Discharge: Incorporate large capacitors for storing and rapidly discharging energy to create high-voltage, low-frequency oscillations.

Tesla’s system faced significant challenges, including the need for large, expensive equipment. In 1914, he estimated the cost of his "Magnifying Transmitter" at $450,000—around $15 million today. These financial constraints prevented him from fully realizing his dream and unfortunately led to his public image as a mad scientist with unrealistic future visions. However, the potential applications of his system are vast, from global wireless power transmission to reducing infrastructure costs and powering remote areas. With ongoing advancements in technology, Tesla’s vision may be within reach.

Tesla’s system presents an alternative approach to wireless energy transmission, focusing on efficiency and long-distance power transfer over the broad dispersal of electromagnetic waves. While modern technologies have advanced in different ways, Tesla’s principles—especially his focus on resonant circuits and earth currents—provide valuable insights into alternative methods of energy transmission. Exploring these principles today could lead to innovative applications, such as more efficient long-distance power transmission or new energy transfer methods.

[girlkisser13]

demeter cabin headcanons

children of demeter

• they're all very soft and warm people. unlike the apollo kids who are bright and lively, their warmth is softer and more comforting like a flickering fire on a cool autumn night.

• they can create flowers that have never existed before, often a mix of two or more flowers or something original.

• most of the campers drop by the demeter cabin to pick up flowers for their dates because they will weave a bouquet with a personalized message in the language of the flowers.

• there is a small garden along with a one room shop where they grow and sell their flowers and other assorted plants which they grow on request.

• the money earned is divided amongst them but the majority of the proceeds go to environmental causes.

• they all hate winter but absolutely adore autumn.

• intricate flower crowns are worn 24/7.

• they are ALWAYS outside.

• they would make amazing teachers.

• they are the plant and parent friend in a friend group.

• the children of demeter with vitiligo have spots and marks that look like flowers and leaves.

• the ground where a child of demeter died becomes more fertile and makes flowers grow like crazy.

• they are all either really tall or really short (i will not be taking any questions).

• they're probably all vegetarians (they live, breathe, and eat plants).

• they organize clean-up efforts, tree plantings, and educational sessions on composting and reducing waste.

• they teach younger campers about medicinal herbs (alongside the apollo kids), magical plants, practical gardening tips, and the properties of different plants.

cabin exterior

• the demeter cabin blends harmoniously with its surroundings, almost appearing to grow out of the earth itself. the structure would be adorned with climbing vines, flowers, and moss.

• it's constructed primarily from natural materials such as wood, stone, and clay.

• they have a welcoming porch with wooden rocking chairs and a swing.

cabin interior

• PLANTS EVERYWHERE (obviously).

• the cabin itself feels alive. vines creep up the walls, adorned with colorful blossoms that change with the seasons.

• COTTAGECORE COTTAGECORE COTTAGECORE.

• their cabin interior radiates cottagecore vibes.

• the furniture is crafted from natural materials, giving the cabin a rustic and cozy feel. cushions and throws are made from soft, organic fabrics, inviting you to sink in and relax.

cabin traditions

• they have an annual competition where they all compete to see who can grow the tallest plant.

• every time a child of demeter gets claimed, they add a plant somewhere in the cabin and tend to it during their stay. if they're on a quest, one of their siblings take care of it and if they die, the plant lives on in memory of them. that’s one of the reasons the cabin is filled to THE BRIM with plants.

divider by @strangergraphics-archive

[grayhyacinth]

Random Act of Kindness Day

Hello! It's been O-O Like six years since I last posted a work? A lot has happened during my long hiatus (writers block). But, I hope that this is a fun, new beginning.

Disclaimer: This work is with an assumption that Dipper and Mabel are older, but is still set in the current timeline of Gravity Falls (if that makes sense).

Links: ao3, tumblr, masterlist

The warm sunlight filters in through the cracks of the blinds, shining down onto your face. Your legs move against the soft sheets, scrambling away from the warm light and back into the cool, dark shade. You feel the accidental touch of another's limb entangling with yours, and suddenly, the awareness of a nearby person kicks in.

Your eyes open begrudgingly. Blinking away the sleepy fog, the hazy outline of a breathing figure becomes obvious. Bushy brown hair, tousled in every direction, and a red shirt peeking out from beneath the cozy blanket—it’s Dipper.

His back is turned towards you, but you could tell it's him even in the dark.

A slow smile spreads across your face, your eyes softening as you watch your boyfriend sleep peacefully. A part of you is tempted to pinch him awake.

Reflecting on the previous day, you realize that your stay at the Mystery Shack is likely to extend longer than expected. The dragon that terrorized Gravity Falls and subsequently reduced your home to ashes with its fiery breath has made sure of that. It'll take at least a miraculous week for the construction workers to rebuild your house. Adding to the uncertainty, your aunt and uncle, with whom you were spending the summer, are still out of town and won’t return for a few more days. The only explanation you could recall for their departure was something about Las Vegas—perhaps they were seeing a show?

Lost in thought about your temporary situation, you barely notice Dipper shifting beside you. He turns to face you, rubbing his swollen eyes. His gaze drifts from your distant stare to the slight purse of your lips.

"You're awake before me…"

His somewhat raspy voice pulls you back to the moment. You refocus on him, a light chuckle escaping as you tease, "Morning, sleeping beauty. How was the sleep?"

Dipper groans, rubbing the bridge of his nose with one hand, while the other remains tucked under the pillow, acting as an extra cushion. "Ugh… seriously?"

You laugh, satisfied with his reaction. "What? I'm just surprised you slept in. Usually, you're up at the crack of dawn, either heading off to the basement with Grunkle Ford or helping Grunkle Stan with the Mystery Shack." Your eyes flick to the clock on his bedside table. It’s midday—meaning we both slept through the entire morning.

Luckily you skipped eating Stan's pancakes. The idea of eating one of his arm hairs gave you shivers.

"Hmm," Dipper hums thoughtfully, preparing his throat to respond. "Well, someone had to take down that dragon. And it definitely wasn't you." With a mischievous glint in his eye, he reaches out and lightly pokes the tip of your nose.

"Haha, hey!" You laugh, swatting his hand away playfully. "It wasn’t you either! If I remember right, a certain Grunkle with a pot belly climbed onto the dragon’s back and punched it in the face until it plummeted into the canyons beyond Gravity Falls."

Dipper shrugs nonchalantly. "Someone had to tell him what to do. I used the journal to figure out the dragon’s weakness. That’s what led to Stan recklessly defeating it."

"Okay, okay," you concede, sitting up and raising your hands in mock surrender. "Fair enough. You're the hero, Dipper."

A smug grin spreads across his face, a self-satisfied smile that stretches from ear to ear. "That's right, (Y/n)."

You swing one leg out of the comfortable bed, the sticky, humid air in the attic making it increasingly uncomfortable to stay under the covers. Yet, despite the heat, a part of you longs to retreat back into the cozy embrace of a lazy afternoon. But the thought of wasting away a perfectly good summer day doesn’t sit well with you.

Before you can fully escape, Dipper scrambles forward, catching your waist with his arm and pulling you back toward him. "Where do you think you’re going?" he teases, rubbing his nose playfully against the back of your shirt, bunching up the fabric.

A blush creeps onto your cheeks as you grab his forearm, trying to pry him off. But to your surprise, his grip is stronger than you expected. "What are you doing? Let go, Dipper!"

Dipper lets out a soft noise of defiance, clearly agitated by your unusual willingness to leave his embrace. Normally, you would do anything to stay near him for longer than ten minutes, as he would usually be too flustered to stand beside you without almost exploding. Now, he buries his face deeper into your back, inhaling the scent of your shirt while mumbling incomprehensible words.

You twist slightly to get a glimpse of him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the tips of his ears are bright red, and a flush of color highlights his cheeks. Why was he clinging to you so desperately? You sigh gently, your tone softening as you ask, "What's wrong, Dipper?" You run your fingers through his messy brown locks, ruffling his hair. Despite the occasional knot, it’s incredibly soft to the touch.

"Let's just…" he mumbles again, his voice barely audible as his nose nuzzles against your hip. His arm tightens around you, pulling you even closer.

You swallow thickly and look up at the slanted ceiling. If this is some kind of blessing, waking up to a clingy Dipper, then you ought to thank whatever higher power is responsible. You also hope your dead relatives are averting their gazes from this private moment.

Taking a deep breath, you lay back down and adjust both of your bodies on the twin bed until you're facing each other. His legs instinctively intertwine with yours, and just as naturally, his hands find your waist, while yours cup his cheeks. Now that your eyes have fully adjusted to the dim light, you notice the drooping eye bags beneath Dipper’s swollen eyes. It looks like his thoughts kept him up last night.

"Dipper…" you murmur, rubbing his face soothingly. You're careful, pressing lightly against his pale skin. "You can tell me what's wrong, you know? Whatever it is, it’s okay to let me know what's upsetting you."

Despite the reassurance in your voice, Dipper hesitates, weighing whether to open up. It’s not fear holding him back; it’s the worry that you might see him differently. All summer, he’d been crafting an image of himself that he hoped would impress you—from hunting monsters to showing off his latest inventions. The last thing he wanted was for you to think less of him for being a bit vulnerable.

"I thought…" Dipper swallows hard, blinking a few times as he gathers his thoughts. "I thought I was going to lose you yesterday." His words come out gruffly, almost like an old man grumbling to himself, but there’s a tremor in his voice. Saying it aloud makes his fear feel both foolish and painfully real. Maybe you mean even more to him than he realized. "I thought that dragon was going to eat you, (Y/n). Or worse, you could’ve fallen from a million feet in the sky! I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve done something sooner."

You feel him clench your shirt, his fist trembling slightly as his breath hitches at the thought of losing you. Your expression softens, and you gently brush your fingers against the corners of his eyes, smoothing out the wrinkles. "Dipper… Aww… you know, we’ve been in much scarier situations, right?"

"Yeah, but the dragon literally picked you up with its sharp fangs and started flapping its wings!"

"Like a giant bat?"

"…Yeah… like an impossibly ginormous bat," Dipper sniffles, ducking his head lower. His eyes and the upper parts of his cheeks are hidden in the shadow of his hair, making it difficult for you to see his expression.

You can sense the weight of his fear, the way he’s been holding it all in, trying to be strong for you.

"Well," you begin, careful not to coddle him in a way that might make him feel ridiculed, though he was undeniably adorable in this moment. "Just like those bats you scramble to catch in Stan's kitchen, I knew you'd come to save the day." A gentle smile spreads across your face as you squished his cheeks and then pulled him into a deep embrace.

As you press against him, the familiar scent of clean laundry and pine trees fills your senses, a surprisingly comforting combination that always reminds you of Dipper. For someone who often fumbles through awkward moments and sweats through tense situations, he actually smells pretty pleasant. Perhaps it’s that ever-present vest that usually traps the worst of it, but right now, in this quiet moment, he’s almost intoxicatingly comforting. Ugh… that sounds weird.

You pat his back soothingly, your hands moving in slow, rhythmic circles as the creaks of the wooden shack and the distant, boisterous shouts of Dipper’s relatives filter in from outside.

But then, the tranquility is interrupted by a loud, unmistakable grumble from Dipper’s stomach. You pull away just enough to meet his eyes, your own widening in surprise.

"…That did not sound human," you quip, laughter bubbling up from your chest.

"Haha… sorry, (Y/n)," Dipper mumbles, his face turning an alarming shade of crimson as he sits up, sheepishly clutching his stomach. "That’s… embarrassing."

"Pfft…" You stifle your laughter, finding his awkwardness endearing. It’s a relief to see him returning to his usual self, though a part of you still worries that the earlier sadness might creep back in if you’re not careful. "Come on, let’s get something to eat, Dipping Sauce."

The nickname rolls off your tongue effortlessly, and before Dipper can muster up a protest against the new name, you’re already on your feet, heading for the door. His half-hearted objections follow you, but you’re too quick, slipping out of the musty attic with a change of clothes in hand.

Just across from the bedroom door is a small, worn bathroom. You step inside and lock the door, twisting the handle a couple of times to ensure it’s properly secured. In this old, creaky house, you’ve learned to be cautious—the faulty locks have nearly resulted in more than one embarrassing incident. You didn’t need a repeat of someone barging in on you in a moment of privacy.

As you glance at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but smile, a mix of affection and amusement lingering from your interaction with Dipper. There’s something about this place, despite its decay and oddities, that feels like home—or maybe it’s just the people in it that make it feel that way.

On the porcelain sink sits a pink cup adorned with colorful stickers, filled with three toothbrushes: a blue one for Dipper, a purple one for Mabel, and your own. Hanging on the hooks on the wall is your towel, and then a vibrant, multicolored one, and another, more subdued in color. As you glance around, you realize how seamlessly you’ve settled in with the twins over the summer. The cozy familiarity of the bathroom feels like a small, comforting victory.

You finally take a good, long look at yourself in the mirror. Your face is a bit puffy from oversleeping, and your hair is a tangled mess from constantly shifting around the bed in search of a cooler spot during the night. Sighing, you reach up to open the mirror's door, revealing a hidden medicine cabinet. Three bright yellow sticky notes catch your eye.

The first reads: YOU'RE DA BEST! The second says: SMILE Someone LOVES IT! The third states: U R MY FAV PERSON!

The large, eccentric letters and the myriad of smiley faces, hearts, and stars bring a smile to your face. Mabel’s penchant for spreading positivity is evident, even when she’s not around. It’s a small reminder of her vibrant spirit and how much she values the little things that make life bright.

Singing a song, you freshen up for the day ahead. After changing into some flexible clothing, you double-tie the laces of your sneakers—just in case running from a monster becomes part of today’s agenda.

Tucking your pajamas under your arm, you open the door and are greeted by an unexpected sight. Dipper is sitting on the floor beside the bathroom door, his nose buried deep in Journal 3. The soft glow of the morning light filters through a narrow window, casting a warm hue on his focused expression.

"Dipper!" You exclaim, startled by the sight. "What are you doing out here?"

"Oh um…" Dipper snaps the book shut and looks up at you, his face a mix of guilt and awkwardness. "Just… you know… waiting for you?" He hesitates, his eyes darting to the left as if searching for a more convincing excuse.

"…You know, that's kind of weird, right?"

"Umm… haha… yeah… I wasn’t actually waiting for you," he stammers, standing up abruptly and shuffling away. The tips of his ears flush a vivid shade of red. "Just needed a place to sit. Definitely wasn’t listening to you sing earlier or anything, haha."

You blink, taken aback by his strange reaction. He blinks back at you, looking equally bewildered.

You open your mouth to respond, "Dipp--"

Suddenly, he cuts you off, turning on his heel and dashing down the hallway. "You know what! I think I just heard Stan call for me! What’s that, Stan? You need help with the Mystery Shack?" His voice grows increasingly frantic as he hurries away, and soon, you’re left standing there, confused by his sudden flight.

You tilt your head, a mix of confusion and amusement on your face. "Huh… that was…" You slowly said, wondering what might have set him off. Perhaps he’s just hungry or disoriented? After a moment’s thought, you shrug it off and head back into the twins’ room.

The sight of the room never fails to catch your attention, no matter how many times you see it. Mabel’s side is a riot of color and creativity. The walls are covered with a vibrant array of stickers, photos, and posters, each one adding to her charm. Her pink bedding is decorated with a cheerful yellow flower on the headboard, giving her bed a whimsical touch.

However, Mabel’s natural disarray is evident. Her bed is a jumble of sheets and pillows, and the floor is strewn with toys, sweaters, and other belongings. It’s a vivid testament to her vibrant personality but also a stark contrast to the neatness you’ve come to expect elsewhere.

You can’t help but smile as you take in the scene. Despite the clutter, the room radiates warmth and character. It’s clear that Mabel’s creative spirit knows no bounds, and her space reflects her energetic and carefree nature.

As you settle your dirty clothes into the laundry bag, you catch sight of a small, hand-drawn poster pinned to the wall. It’s a whimsical doodle of a unicorn with a rainbow mane, surrounded by hearts and stars. Beneath it, in Mabel’s characteristic scrawl, is a note that reads: Be awesome today!

That’s too cute.

Turning your gaze to Dipper’s side of the room, you find an equally personal space. His walls are decorated with a more restrained collection of posters and maps—mostly sketches of mythical creatures, cryptic symbols, and adventure-themed designs. There’s a large, hand-drawn map of Gravity Falls pinned above his desk, with various notes and markings indicating mysterious locations and possible leads.

Dipper’s bed is neatly made, with a plain blue comforter and a couple of well-loved pillows. The bed frame is tucked against one wall, and next to it stands a wooden table cluttered with research materials: a stack of notebooks, a magnifying glass, and a few stray paper clips. On the wall above his bed, there’s hooks with binoculars hanging down. One corner of the room is dedicated to his growing collection of journals and reference books.

Despite the empty room, it felt like the twins were still there bickering.

Smiling, you spun on your heels and bounced down the staircase, humming a tune that matched your upbeat mood. As you entered the living room, you were greeted by the sight of Mabel, who was knitting away on the yellow-striped armchair while Waddles snoozed contentedly on the armrest.

“Mabel! How are you?” you called out, your voice warm and cheerful.

“(Y/n)!” Mabel’s voice rang out, filling the room with her boundless energy. “Wanna see what I’m doing?” Her eyebrows shot up in excitement as she thrust her arms out, revealing the project in her lap. The green knit was a large sweater, adorned with a huge yellow heart on the front. It was only halfway finished, but already it radiated Mabel’s signature charm.

“Aww! That’s so cute, Mabel! Who’s it going to be for?” you asked, genuinely impressed.

“It’s for Stan!” Mabel’s excitement caused her to nearly leap from her seat. “It’s so soft! Do you think he’s going to like it? I even made a matching one for Grunkle Ford.” She dramatically produced an identical sweater from behind her, its vibrant colors contrasting with the green of the first.

You felt a pang of hesitation. Mabel’s innocent enthusiasm was endearing, but you had to be honest. You gently took her hand and, with a serious expression, said, “I hate to say it, but I don’t think Stan or Ford are the type to wear sweaters. I mean, Stan can barely wear pants, and Ford… well…” You glanced around to ensure no one was within earshot. Leaning in, you whispered, “He’s kind of weird…”

Mabel blinked, her eyes wide with surprise. You held your breath, hoping she wouldn’t be too disappointed.

“My Grunkle isn’t weird!” Mabel exclaimed, her face turning from shock to fierce determination. She pushed you away, and then suddenly stood on the couch cushion, her two hands firmly planted on her hips. She was gripping her needles tightly. “He’s just… quirky! And Stan is awesome! They’re gonna love these sweaters, I just know it!”

“L-Look, Mabel!” You quickly stood up, backing away slowly as if trying to distance yourself from an impending storm. With both hands in the air, you tried to gesture away her frustration. “You see—”

“He is not weird!” Mabel’s voice was filled with indignation, her face flushed with a mix of anger and hurt.

“Woah, woah…” Dipper appeared in the doorway, sandwich in one hand and the other extended in a placating gesture. “What’s going on? Mabel… put the needles down.”

Mabel glared at you for a moment before reluctantly setting the knitting needles aside, her defiant posture faltering. You sighed in relief, glancing at Dipper with a mix of gratitude and embarrassment.

Dipper stepped closer, taking a bite of his sandwich before speaking. “So, what’s all this about?”

Mabel took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I was knitting sweaters for Grunkle Stan and Ford for Random Act of Kindness Day!”

“Random Act of Kindness Day?” Dipper asked, his brow furrowing in confusion as he took another bite of his sandwich.

“Yes, Random Act of Kindness Day!” Mabel’s voice trembled slightly, but her determination remained. “It’s tomorrow, and I wanted to do something nice for Stan and Ford.” She sat down on the edge of the couch, looking utterly defeated. Waddles, sensing her distress, waddled over to nuzzle her side, offering his comforting presence. “B-But (Y/n) says that they wouldn’t like it.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Mabel’s disappointment hanging heavy in the air. Dipper set his sandwich down and approached Mabel, crouching beside her.

“Mabel,” he said gently, “I think (Y/n) was just trying to be realistic. But honestly, I think it’s really thoughtful of you to make these sweaters. They might not wear them all the time, but they’ll definitely appreciate the gesture. It’s the thought that counts.”

Mabel looked up at him, her eyes still shiny with unshed tears. “You think so?”

Dipper nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “Definitely. And I’m sure Stan and Ford will be touched by your kindness. Besides, it’s not about what they wear—it’s about knowing you care.”

Dipper glanced over to you with a look of concern, his worry evident in the furrow of his brow.

You quickly stepped in, your voice firm but reassuring. “I never said they wouldn’t like it! I just mentioned that they might not wear it.”

After a brief pause, Dipper’s expression softened as he considered your perspective. He gave a reluctant nod of agreement. “Yeah… I’m sorry, Mabel, but I have to agree with (Y/n).”

Mabel’s face remained etched with frustration, tears streaming down her cheeks as her emotions ran high.

“Wh-What I mean is,” Dipper’s voice wavered slightly, a trace of panic coloring his words, “let’s think about it. Have we ever actually seen Stan or Ford wear sweaters? Especially bright green ones?”

Mabel blinked, her anger giving way to confusion. “No…”

“Then…” Dipper extended the word, taking a cautious step closer to his visibly upset sister. “Maybe we can help you come up with another gift idea?”

The room seemed to hold its breath as Mabel’s features softened, the earlier anger dissipating into a mixture of sadness and contemplation. Dipper managed a small, half-hearted smile, a gesture of both apology and reassurance.

You decided to chime in, trying to break the tension with a hopeful tone. “What would they like then?”

The three of you fell into thoughtful silence, pondering what Stan and Ford would truly appreciate for Random Act of Kindness Day. Stan had a well-known affection for money, while Ford’s interests leaned heavily towards his eccentric, nerdy pursuits. The possibilities seemed both endless and implausible.

A golden statue with laser eyes? A goose that pooped wads of cash every time you fed it a screw? The more you brainstormed, the more convoluted and impractical each idea appeared.

Mabel, regaining her composure, gave a small, thoughtful nod. “Well, Stan does love money, and Ford… he’s always talking about weird science stuff. Maybe we could come up with something that combines their interests?”

Dipper’s eyes lit up with a spark of inspiration. “We could go find something in the woods? Ford could research it and Stan could turn it into an attraction.”

“Oh! Great idea, Dipper!” Mabel bounced with enthusiasm, her earlier frustration melting away. “I’ll make them flower crowns and turn them into pretty princesses.”

You raised an eyebrow at Mabel’s statement but decided to focus on the more pressing matter. “Monster hunting…? While I love to agree with you, Dipper, we’d need to be careful. Last time we ventured into the woods, it didn’t exactly go as planned.” You were making a point to the time Dipper, Mabel, and you set out into the woods for what was supposed to be a straightforward search for a unique artifact that Ford had mentioned in his research. According to the old legends, the mirrorstone reveals a glimpse of alternate realities or possible futures. Though, it looks like a plain, unassuming rock. Ford thought it could be a fascinating addition to his collection, and Stan would surely enjoy the story behind it.

However, as you ventured deeper into the cave, you began to notice strange occurrences—whispers in the wind, eerie shadows flitting between rocks, and the sudden chill in the air. Unbeknownst to you, the "mirrorstone" was guarded by a mythical creature known as the Shadow Serpent, a guardian of the forest with the ability to manipulate shadows and create illusions.

As you approached the cave, the shadows around you seemed to come alive, twisting and writhing into serpentine shapes. The Shadow Serpent emerged. The ordeal left you all exhausted but triumphant. But, while you managed to retrieve the rock, which turned out to be even more beautiful than you imagined, the experience left the three of you exhausted.

Dipper nodded, understanding the concern. “You’re right, we need to be careful. But what if we keep it safe and still make it fun? We find something interesting in the woods, and Mabel can still make the crowns. It could make the whole thing more special—and we’d have a good excuse to explore a bit”

Mabel’s eyes sparkled at the idea. “That sounds awesome! We could find something magical and then give it a special place with the crowns.”

You smiled at the compromise, feeling reassured. “That sounds perfect. Just as long as we stay careful—I’d rather not have another run-in with mythical creatures.”

You pulled Dipper aside, lowering your voice. “Hey, thanks for earlier. Mabel was really upset, and you handled it like a pro.”

Dipper blushed slightly, scratching the back of his head. “No big deal. I just didn’t want her to stay upset. And, honestly, exploring Gravity Falls never gets old.”

You smirked, nudging him playfully. “Well, with you around, I guess we’re always in for an adventure. Or at least, a grand tour of ‘Things That Can Go Horribly Wrong.’”

Dipper chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Hey, if you’re going to stick around for all the chaos, I guess I should warn you—my tours come with a no-return policy.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sounds like a deal. I’ll just make sure to bring extra snacks and a sense of humor.”

Dipper grinned, giving you a friendly bump. “Perfect. We’ll need both. And maybe a few emergency supplies, just in case.”

As you all geared up, packing essentials and making sure to bring plenty of supplies, the anticipation of the adventure grew. The idea of finding something both incredible and fitting for Random Act of Kindness Day became an exciting prospect.

With the sun filtering through the trees and the crisp air hinting at adventure, the three of you set out into the forest. The peacefulness of the woods was a stark contrast to the thrilling escapades that lay ahead. Birds chirped cheerfully overhead, and the rustling leaves provided a calming backdrop to your journey.

As you trekked over fallen branches and through the underbrush, you chatted excitedly about the possibilities. Dipper and Mabel shared their theories about what the enchanted grove might hold—a squirrel with a tiny top hat and monocle, who speaks in a posh British accent and gives out riddles; or bioluminescent flora that light up the forest with a mesmerizing, otherworldly glow You joined in with suggestions of your own, a staff with a clock-like face that can briefly slow down or speed up time. Maybe finding it could lead to you sleeping in for an extra hour.

The forest seemed to envelop you in its embrace, with the dappled sunlight creating shifting patterns on the forest floor. Mable picked various flowers along the way. Anything that seemed interesting or pretty, such as flowers that glowed in the shade, or a normal daisy. But as the hours passed, the peaceful ambiance gave way to a more ominous feeling. The trees grew denser, the shadows deeper. The path, once clear and inviting, became increasingly tangled and overgrown. Even the sky changed shades. It was once clear and blue, but now storming clouds blanketed the sun.

Dipper paused, consulting his map and muttering to himself about landmarks. “Where even are we? This doesn’t look right…” He avoids stepping on a peculiar mushroom with thorns sticking out of it.

Mabel, her enthusiasm undeterred, continued to weave her flower crowns, her eyes occasionally glancing around for inspiration. “I can’t wait to see what we find! Imagine if we discover something truly magical!” Her large doe eyes sparkle with interest, innocently admiring the sights before her.

“Mabel, stay close,” you advised, trying to keep your voice steady despite the growing unease. “We don’t know what’s out here.” You raised your bat, ready to face whatever might emerge from the underbrush.

After a tense moment, a playful squirrel burst from the leaves, its tiny eyes wide with fear at the sight of the humans and their defensive stances. You all breathed a collective sigh of relief, the tension breaking into nervous laughter.

“That’s one way to lighten the mood,” you said, shaking your head with a chuckle. “I was almost ready to face a dragon or something.”

Dipper laughed, adjusting his grip on the journal. “Yeah, I’d say we’ve had enough dragon encounters for a lifetime.” He tucks his hat lower upon his head, securing the band for fear of losing it.

Mabel giggled, still clutching the flower crows. “If only we could find a dragon that’s friendly and loves flower crowns!” Despite her statement, you sense that she wasn’t willing to sacrifice the gifts to escape a giant lizard.

“Now that would be something,” you agreed with a grin. “But let’s focus on finding something less fiery for the day.”

The forest seemed to hold its breath as you continued, every rustle and snap magnified in the stillness. What had started as an exciting quest was turning into something more intense, with a palpable sense of anticipation hanging in the air.

Suddenly, the trees parted to reveal a clearing bathed in an ethereal light. In the center stood a grove of ancient, gnarled trees that arched together to form a natural gateway. The sight was mesmerizing but also a bit unsettling. The air crackled with an otherworldly energy, hinting at the enchantment and danger that lay ahead. Various circles of mushrooms and pops of colorful flowers decorates the green grass.

It was like a true depiction of spring.

“Flowers!” Mabel dashed forward, her excitement momentarily overriding her sense of danger. Her hair flew behind her as she sprinted towards the vibrant scene.

“Mabel, wait!” Dipper’s voice trembled with concern as he scrambled to catch up to his reckless sister. He glanced at you with wide eyes, the urgency in his expression clear.

You followed closely behind, casting wary glances at the arching trees and the shifting shadows, ready for anything that might leap out to capture the three of you.

Mabel collapsed into the fluffy grass, her hands eagerly plucking various flowers to add to her nearly completed flower crown. Her eye for aesthetic was impeccable as she created a crown that was not only beautiful but also unique. “Look at all these amazing flowers!” she exclaimed, beaming with pride. “This is perfect for the crowns!”

Dipper, catching up, bent over to catch his breath. “Mabel, this place is incredible, but we need to be careful. We don’t know what kind of magic or creatures might be here.”

“Relax, Dipper!” Mabel said, waving him off with a carefree laugh. “It’s just flowers and mushrooms. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Let’s stick together and stay sharp,” you advised. “We’re here to find something cool, not to get into more trouble.”

“Oh quite spoiling my mood, (Y/n)!” Mabel shoos you away, frowning. “You didn’t like my sweaters and now you’re trying to ruin my flower crowns? Don’t you even want to give Stan and Ford anything?”

“Mabel that’s not what I—”

She turns away sniffling. “Whatever. Dipper! Tell (Y/n) that I don’t want to talk to her anymore.”

“Umm…” Dipper looks at you, cautiously hesitating as he decides between you or his sister.

“You know what?” You huffed and walked away, waving a careless arm in the air. “I told you. I was just offering some advice and you’re the one who took offense to it. It’s not my fault you didn’t consider Stan and Ford’s preferences in your gift.”

“What’s that suppose to mean—”

You refuse to hear the rest of her protest as you went further and further away from the twins. Who cares what Mabel thought? You were only trying to be helpful. Stan and Ford deserve a gift that they both like. Not something that Mabel thinks they’ll like.

As you neared a creak of gushing water. The refreshing sounds eases your concerns and you stopped, pausing to consider why you were so angry. “Ugh… What am I even doing?” You mumble exasperatedly, sitting down with a plop. You dip your hands into the fresh water, admiring the way it effortlessly washed away the dirt on your palms. “Mabel’s gift isn’t my gift. I shouldn’t have taken her considerations for others so personally…”

A butterfly fluttered before you, its wings a mesmerizing blend of blue and purple, shimmering in the sunlight as if defying gravity itself. You were captivated by the way its colors shifted with each flap, and instinctively, you reached out a hand to touch it. But just as your fingers were about to brush against its delicate wings, a high-pitched scream shattered the peaceful moment.

“Mabel!” Your heart leaped in your chest as you tore your gaze from the butterfly, dashing back through the underbrush toward the sound. Branches snagged at your clothes, and the forest seemed to close in around you as the scream echoed again, spurring you forward. It was unmistakable—Mabel was in trouble.

You burst into the clearing where you'd left Dipper and Mabel, expecting the worst. But what you found was far from what you imagined. Mabel was there, unharmed, standing amidst a cloud of glittering dust, her eyes wide with wonder. A pair of pixies were hovering above her, playfully tugging at her flower crowns, while Dipper had his backed to to you, shouting and jumping in delight.

The scream, you realized, had been one of delight, not fear. Mabel was giggling, twirling in the grass as the beautiful beings danced around her, their tiny wings leaving trails of shimmering light in the air. They were beautiful, with their iridescent wings and cherubic faces, but there was something unsettling about the way they moved, the way their eyes sparkled with a mischievous, almost malevolent, light.

"Mabel!" you called, trying to keep your voice steady. But she was lost in her own world, completely enchanted by the creatures.

You approached Dipper cautiously, tapping his shoulder to get his attention. He jumped, startled out of his intense focus. When he turned around, a grin spread across his face, wide and almost delirious. "(Y/n)! There you are! Aren’t they amazing?" His voice was pitched higher than usual, his excitement palpable.

"Umm... what's going on?" you asked, taking a step back. Fear laces your senses your boyfriend’s unusual state.

"These are Glimmerlings!" Dipper exclaimed, holding up Journal 3 and flipping to the entry on the creatures. He began to read aloud, his eyes wide with fascination. “They’re tiny, about the size of a hummingbird, with wings that shimmer in every color of the rainbow. They look harmless, almost angelic, but they’re actually really dangerous.”

As he read, you couldn’t help but feel a growing sense of dread. The Glimmerlings were indeed beautiful, but Dipper’s words painted a darker picture. "They’re fond of stealing small, precious items—things with sentimental value—and hoarding them in their nests. But what’s worse is their ability to create powerful illusions, leading people into traps or making them lose their way in the woods."

You looked over at Mabel, who was now stumbling toward the edge of the clearing, the Glimmerlings hovering just out of reach, giggling as they lured her deeper into the forest. Her hands were empty. Panic flared in your chest. "Dipper, how do we avoid getting enchanted? How do we know if we're already under their spell?"

Dipper glanced at you, the seriousness of the situation finally sinking in. "Probably when we start seeing things that aren’t there... or if we start following them without thinking." His eyes widened as he realized Mabel was already under their influence. "Mabel! Wait!"

Without another word, you both sprinted after her, but the forest seemed to close in around you, the trees growing thicker, the path more treacherous. Mabel’s laughter echoed eerily through the trees, but no matter how fast you ran, she seemed to slip further away.

"(Y/n)... give me... a second..." Dipper gasped, finally stopping to catch his breath, his hands on his knees as he tried to regain his composure. You stopped too, collapsing to the ground beside him, your chest heaving as you struggled to breathe.

"How could she get so far away?" you groaned, wiping sweat from your brow.

Dipper shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. "I don’t know... Maybe the Glimmerlings are speeding her up somehow?"

"Or maybe it’s just Mabel being Mabel," you muttered, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that something more sinister was at play.

Dipper pulled out the journal again, flipping through the pages with shaky hands. "Okay, here it is... To break free from their illusions, we need a loud noise or a bright, concentrated light. A whistle or a flashlight should work."

You slipped off your backpack and began rummaging through it. Pulling out a flashlight, you held it out to him. "This should do it."

Dipper smiled, albeit weakly. "Nice, (Y/n)! But we still need to figure out how to get the flower crowns back."

He skimmed through the journal again, nodding as he found the right passage. "We can create a decoy—something shiny or magical. If we throw it near their nest, they might go after it, and we can grab the crowns while they’re distracted."

You pondered your options for a moment, tapping your index finger against your chin. “How about,” you suggested, “We shine the flashlight on the Glimmerlings first to break any illusions, then run back to the meadow, find the nest with the flower crowns, and throw the flashlight to distract them?”

Dipper nodded, but something in the back of your mind nagged at you, a lingering doubt that you couldn’t shake. The forest seemed to grow darker, more ominous, and you realized that the trees around you appeared to be closing in, twisting into shapes that made your skin crawl. The path ahead was barely visible, just a thin trail through dense, gnarled branches that seemed to reach out toward you.

You glanced at Dipper, but he didn’t seem to notice the impending doom. Maybe it’s just exhaustion or the fact that the moon has finally risen while the three of you were trapped in the forest?

Dipper reaches a hand out to help you up. “Let’s go find Mabel, (Y/n).” His grip on your hand tightens, refusing to let it go.

“Yeah…” You smiled weakly. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you. As the two of you walked, hand and hand, over and under various obstacles, it seemed as though everything was trying to corner you into a singular space. Like you were walking in circles. What made it even more odd, was the fact that not a singular bird chirped or crowed in the wind, or bugs echoing their calls. It was completely silent.

You tug at his hand. “Wait a minute,” you said, your voice trembling slightly as you looked around. “Something’s not right…?” You couldn’t believe yourself. But your instincts told you that the prying eyes that watched you with delight wasn’t normal, and neither was this odd forest.

Dipper’s eyes widened as he took in your words, and he quickly lets go to flipped through the journal, scanning the pages with growing urgency. “You’re right… this doesn’t make sense. The Glimmerlings create illusions, maybe…”

You both fell silent, the air around you heavy with an eerie stillness. The trees loomed closer, their shadows stretching out like dark tendrils. The overcast sky was barely visible. Panic started to bubble up inside you as the realization hit: you were already under the influence of the Glimmerlings’ magic.

“Dipper,” you whispered, your voice tight with fear, “we need to snap out of this, now.”

Dipper fumbled with the flashlight in his hand, his fingers trembling as he turned it on. The beam cut through the darkness, but it barely seemed to pierce the suffocating gloom around you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest. Mabel’s laughter, faint and distant, drifted through the air. She sounded so far away, but something about the way her voice echoed didn’t feel right.

“That’s it!” Dipper exclaimed suddenly. “The illusions—they’re warping our perception of distance and direction. We’re not as deep into the forest as it seems.” Immediately, Dipper shined the light up, and the darkness seemed to flicker, like a screen glitching before resetting. The twisted trees and suffocating shadows wavered, then began to dissolve like smoke in the wind. For a brief, disorienting moment, the world around you warped and shifted, and then—

The illusion shattered.

The dense, menacing forest melted away, replaced by a much more normal sight of trees and rocks. Even the sunset sky became visible. There were Glimmerings floating above the two of you, they screeched in pain as they struggle to remain stagnant in the air against the light. They began to fly further and further away as Dipper waves the flashlight, disappearing beyond your sight.

Relief flooded through you, and you let out a shaky laugh. “Nice one, Dipper! You saved us from glittery doom.”

Dipper grinned, a bit of his usual confidence returning. “Hey, I’ve got a thing for solving supernatural problems, remember? Besides, someone had to keep us from getting lost in fairyland.” His hands were sweaty and so he hid them behind his vest to wipe them.

You smirked, nudging him playfully. “I’ll give you that. But let’s not celebrate too soon. We still have to find Mabel and get those crowns back.”

Dipper’s smile faded slightly as he nodded, the weight of the situation settling back in. “Yeah, you’re right. She couldn’t have gone far—probably just ahead.”

You both pushed forward, urgency driving you. “Come on, Dipper, we’re almost there.”

Just as the trees gave away to an opening, your heart nearly stopped when you spotted Mabel—she was standing less than ten feet away at the very edge of a steep cliff, teetering dangerously close to the brink. The Glimmerlings fluttered around her. their eyes were upturned in delight, trying to coax her into the deadly drop below.

“Mabel, no!” you shouted, sprinting toward her with all the speed you could muster. Dipper was right behind you, the flashlight’s beam bouncing wildly as he ran.

“Mabel, stop!” Dipper yelled, his voice cracking with panic.

But Mabel seemed entranced, her eyes glazed over as she reached out for the Glimmerlings, oblivious to the danger she was in. The creatures snickered and fluttered just out of her reach, luring her closer to the edge.

You knew you had to act fast. “Dipper, shine the light on them—now!”

Dipper skidded to a stop just a few feet from Mabel, aiming the flashlight directly at the Glimmerlings. The beam of light caught them in mid-flight, and the effect was immediate. The creatures shrieked in high-pitched, unearthly voices as the light struck them. They scattered in all directions, their shimmering wings leaving behind trails of glittering dust as they fled.

The moment the Glimmerlings’ hold on her was broken, Mabel stumbled forward right over the cliff, her eyes widening in shock as she realized how she was going to plummet down straight to her death. You lunged forward, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to safety, your heart racing as the adrenaline surged through your veins.

“Mabel!” you gasped, holding her tight. “Are you okay?”

Mabel blinked, dazed but unharmed. “(Y/n)? Dipper? What just happened?”

Dipper was panting, his face pale with fear, but he managed a shaky smile. “You almost took a very bad fall, Mabel. But we got you.”

Mabel’s eyes filled with tears, and she hugged you tightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I just wanted to play with them. They were so pretty.”

“It’s okay,” you murmured, smoothing her hair. “We’re all safe now. But let’s get out of here before those things come back.”

A long moment passes as the you held Mabel tightly. You couldn’t believe that you almost lost her. This is probably how Dipper felt when the dragon whisked you away in its jaw.

As you and Dipper helped her up, one of your arms wrapped securely around her waist while Dipper’s other arm supported her shoulder. Mabel wasn’t injured, but the near-death experience had left her shaky and unable to walk steadily. The three of you made your way back through the forest, and it quickly became apparent that there had never been a beautiful clearing with arching trees—it was all an illusion conjured by the Glimmerlings.

Just as you helped guide Mabel over a fallen tree trunk, Mabel gasped in surprise. Startled, your head whipped around, expecting to find a Glimmering, but there wasn’t one in sight.

“W-What is it?!” Dipper’s voice cracked with panic.

“The flower crowns!” Mabel suddenly pulled away from the two of you and pointed frantically in the direction you had just come from. “Those pesky fairies took the flower crowns I was going to give to Grunkle Stan and Ford…” Her lips pursed in a shaky pout, eyes wide and brimming with tears.

“Oh… it’s just the flower crowns.” Dipper sighed in relief and gently grabbed Mabel’s arm. “They’re just flower crowns, Mabel. You can always make more.”

“No! They were flowers from our adventure! I can’t just give them any other flower crown!” Mabel protested, her voice cracking with emotion. She shook off Dipper’s hand and prepared herself to climb back over the trunk.

A part of you wanted to rip out your hair at Mabel’s stubbornness, but you also understood. To Mabel, her Grunkles were irreplaceable, and they didn’t deserve substitutes or replacements.

Dipper groaned, rubbing the space between his brow as he tried to think of something comforting to say.

You reached out to Mabel and pulled her into a hug. “I think…” You breathed in her scent—a sweet mix of sugary but warm vanilla. “Those sweaters you made for them will mean more than some dirty flowers from the forest.”

Mabel sniffled, still not reciprocating the hug. “But you said they wouldn’t wear them…”

You paused, realizing how your earlier words had hurt her. You pulled away slightly, cupping her cheeks in your hands and rubbing your nose fondly against hers. “Who cares what I think? Beautiful sweaters from their favorite niece will last longer than flowers that’ll decay in a few days.” You smiled warmly at her. “Besides, Dipper was right. It’s the thought that counts.”

As Dipper approached, he hesitated for just a moment before stepping into the hug, his arms wrapping around both you and Mabel. "You know, (Y/n)'s right. Those sweaters are awesome, Mabel. Stan and Ford are going to love them."

Mabel sniffled again, a small smile breaking through her pout. "You really think so?"

You nodded, giving her a reassuring squeeze. "Absolutely. And even if they don't wear them all the time, they'll always treasure something made by you."

Dipper added with a grin, "Plus, I bet they'll rock those sweaters when no one's looking."

Mabel let out a small giggle, wiping away her tears. "Maybe I'll make matching ones for Waddles too."

You laughed softly. "Now that would be a sight to see."

Dipper groaned. “Waddles in a sweater? Don’t you think it’s kinda weird to make sweaters for a pig?”

Even as the three of you laughed merrily, the embrace lingering as you held onto each other, the warmth of the moment made the chaotic adventure feel worthwhile. The tension of the day seemed to melt away, leaving only the comfort of being together. The birds finally cawed as they flew from tree to tree, squirrels danced in circles as they fought over nuts, and the bugs crawled along the dirt in search of food. It was a completely normal and unassuming hug.

Then, out of nowhere, you heard a loud, unmistakable sound of a fart.

“Oops! Sorry…” Mabel grinned, looking both sheepish and proud. “It’s my body’s way of saying it’s dinner time!”

“Ew, Mabel!” Dipper groaned, taking a step back with an exaggerated look of disgust. “Seriously?” Despite his protest, his eyes sparkled with laughter, unable to hide his amusement.

You tried to stifle your own laughter, teasing, “Shouldn’t it be your stomach making noise? Not your butt?” You couldn’t help but chuckle, relieved to see the Mabel you knew and loved was back to her usual self.

Mabel just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Hey, when nature calls, I answer! Besides, it’s a gift.”

“A gift?” Dipper raised an eyebrow, pretending to be horrified. “What kind of gift is that?!”

“Yeah, we’ve had enough surprises for one day,” you added, shaking your head with a grin.

Mabel giggled, wrapping her arms around both you and Dipper again. “I love you guys, even if you can’t appreciate my talents!”

After the laughter died down and the three of you finally released each other from the hug, the forest around you seemed to settle into a peaceful quiet. The chaos of the day felt like it had been left behind in the clearing, replaced by a warm, contented silence.

Dipper was the first to break the quiet, looking around with a thoughtful expression. “We should probably start heading back,” he said, glancing up at the sky. The moon was out. “We’ve had enough adventure for one day.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling a twinge of tiredness in your legs. “Yeah, let’s get out of here before something tries to eat us.”

With that, the three of you began making your way back through the forest. Dipper walked ahead, occasionally turning around to make sure his two favorite people were following, while Mabel chattered happily about all the things she wanted to do once you got back to the Mystery Shack. You listened with a smile, glad to see her enthusiasm hadn’t been dampened by the day’s events

Eventually, you could see the familiar outline of the Shack in the distance. The sight of it brought a wave of relief—finally, you were almost home. As you approached, you could hear the faint sounds of Stan and Ford arguing inside, their voices rising and falling in what sounded like a heated discussion. They paused abruptly when they spotted the three of you through the window of the gift shop, safe and sound, and their expressions shifted from concern to a mix of relief and confusion.

As you reached the patio of the tourist gift shop, Grunkle Stan rushed out, his arms wide for an embrace. He pulled the twins into a tight hug. “You three had us worried sick! What were you guys doing out there?”

Ford followed shortly behind, his hands in his pockets and his glasses perched high on his nose. His expression was a mix of sternness and concern as he glanced between you and the twins. “And where have you three been?” he asked, his voice carrying a hint of reprimand.

You glanced sheepishly at the twins, who seemed momentarily frozen with fear. You could practically feel the weight of Ford's gaze. “Um…” you began, trying to choose your words carefully. “You know… exploring…? In the… woods…?”

Stan held the twins out at arm's length, his face etched with a mix of relief and exasperation. His voice was higher than usual, laced with a note of panic. “Kids! Didn’t I tell you how dangerous it is out there?!”

Dipper and Mabel both looked down, their expressions a mix of guilt and fatigue. Stan’s eyes softened just a bit as he saw how exhausted they were, but the worry remained in his voice.

Ford stepped in, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses. “Exploring can be risky. Especially this late in the day. Who knows what could have happened?”

You took a deep breath, stepping forward to ease the mounting tension. “We did run into a few... complications. But we’re all okay now. And, um, we have quite a story to tell.”

“Grunkle Ford, Stan! Don’t be so hard on us.” Mabel steps out, hands behind her back as she gives him the largest eyes in the world. “We were only trying to have fun.”

“There are better—safer, ways to have fun.” Ford’s scowls, clearly not falling for her puppy eyes.

Dipper pitches in hastley. His arm is around Mabel’s shoulders and he then reaches out to grasp your hand. “Next time, we’ll be more mindful of our safety. Promise.”

Ford and Stan raises an eyebrow at you and Mabel, expecting a unanimous agreement. The moment you and the brown haired girl echoed “Promise,” Stan’s shoulders relaxed a fraction, though his concern was still evident. “Just... next time, listen to the warnings. I don’t want to be dealing with any more close calls.”

Ford gave a reluctant nod, his stern expression softening slightly. “We’ll talk about it more later. For now, let’s get you all inside for a shower and dinner.” They stood ushered you guys inside, and then followed suit.

After the three of you got cleaned up, the aroma of Stan’s cooking wafted through the air as the group settled around the dinner table. Stan had outdone himself with a hearty meal of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and green beans. A difference from the usual ice cream for dinner. The comforting smell mixed with the sounds of plates clinking and utensils scraping as everyone took their seats.

Stan poured himself a generous serving of gravy and glanced at Dipper and Mabel. “So, what exactly were you kids up to today? You looked like you were through the wringer.”

Dipper exchanged a glance with Mabel, a subtle signal passing between them. Mabel’s eyes darted around the room, and she quickly shoved a forkful of mashed potatoes into her mouth, her cheeks puffed out and her eyes slanted sideways.

“Yeah, um,” Dipper said, his voice slightly strained as he took a large bite of his meatloaf. It seems like he also thought stuffing his face would avoid the question, because when he realized that his silent Grunkles were awaiting a reply, he choked out a reluctant response, “You know, just some harmless wandering around.”

Ford raised an eyebrow, leaning in with an analytical look. “You didn’t get up to anything too... unusual, did you?”

Mabel, caught between chewing and swallowing, managed to mumble through her full mouth. “Nope, nothing unusual at all! Just saw… dirt… and trees...”

Stan’s eyes narrowed slightly, not entirely convinced.

Dipper gave an awkward chuckle, clearly uncomfortable with the way Mabel answered the question. “No, really. We’re fine. Just had a few... challenges, but nothing we couldn’t handle.” He glances over to you, his eyes pleading for help.

Just as your fork pierced a slice of meatloaf, it slid off your fork and clattered to your plate. You cleared your throat and interject. “So! What were the two of you up to today?”

Ford and Stan seemingly buy into the switch in discussion, and the conversation shifted to less intense topics—like the latest gossip from town and upcoming events.

As the meal wound down, Stan cleared the table, grumbling good-naturedly about the absence of dessert, while Ford retreated to his laboratory with a napkin filled with jot down inspirations he found during dinner. The twins and you gathered into their bedroom, the comfortable space filled with the soft glow of a lamp.

Mabel, pulled out her knitting supplies and set up a cozy corner on her bed. Her fingers moved swiftly and skillfully, the rhythmic click of the knitting needles filling the room as she finished up the identical sweaters.

The tinkering sound of needles clicking together as they tied strings of yarn filled the room. Occasionally, the turn of pages from Dipper notebook and the soft murmurs beneath his breath would join along. You were busy rustling a random shopping bag filled with ribbons, stickers, markers, and plastic gift bags.

As she worked, she chatted animatedly, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. "So, what do you think we should give Stan and Ford? I mean, the sweaters are awesome, but we need something to go with them."

You sat cross-legged on the floor, organizing a small assortment of colorful ribbons, preparing to cut them, while Dipper lounged on Mabel’s bed beside her, flipping through a notebook filled with ideas. The room was warm, lit by a soft glow from a string of fairy lights draped across the walls.

“Okay, what about this?” Dipper began, his eyes brightening as he looked up. “I was thinking of setting up an outdoor spot with blankets, snacks, and a small fire pit. We could roast some marshmallows over a campfire and share stories under the stars.”

Mabel’s fingers never paused as she worked on the final touches of the sweater. She glanced up with a wide grin. “Ooo, sounds like someone’s trying to impress a certain someone,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Hey, I can’t help it if I have great ideas,” Dipper shot back, feigning innocence. “Plus, I thought you loved s’mores, Mabel.”

His sister giggled, playfully nudging Dipper with her elbow. “Only if you don’t burn them like last time. Seriously, how do you mess up a marshmallow?”

“Hey, that fire was really unpredictable!” Dipper defended, turning towards you with a mock pout. “Back me up here, (Y/n).”

You laughed with Mabel, glad that their playful bickering was lifting everyone’s spirits. As Dipper looked at you with those wide, expectant eyes, you couldn’t help but tease him a little.

“Well, Dipper,” you began, tapping your chin, “I think you might have been a bit distracted... but not by the fire.” You smirked, enjoying the way his cheeks turned slightly pink. “But hey, it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Dipper rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Mabel snickered, nudging him. “Looks like you’ll have to redeem yourself with those s’mores, bro.”

You grinned, deciding to shift the conversation to your own idea. “Speaking of redeeming ourselves…” You reached into your backpack and pulled out a small glowing leaf you’d been keeping aside. “Hmmm… I wasn’t exactly prepared for Random Act of Kindness Day, but I did find these bioluminescent plants in the forest earlier. I thought it’d be nice to make glow-in-the-dark muffins with them.” You held up the leaf, its ethereal glow illuminating your face. “Plus, I’ll wrap them up in cute little bags tied with ribbons. It’ll be like giving them a piece of the forest night sky.”

Mabel’s eyes widened with excitement. “That’s so cool! Imagine the look on Stan and Ford’s faces when they see them!”

Dipper smiled, his earlier embarrassment forgotten. “Glowing muffins? Now that’s something they’ll never see coming. You always find a way to surprise me, you know that?”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” you replied with a wink.

Dipper’s face flushes red, but his grin widened. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

With that, the sound of crickets chirping in the night and the exhaustion of the day's adventure began to settle in. The soft rustling of leaves and the gentle sway of the curtains created a peaceful atmosphere. You could barely keep your eyes open, signaling that the gates of dreamland were opening wide. Slowly, the moon reached its peak in the sky, casting a silver glow over the room as the three of you tucked yourselves into bed. Mabel snuggled up alongside Waddles, her soft murmurs barely audible as she drifted off to sleep. You nestled into Dipper’s arms, feeling the comforting weight of his embrace. It was soft, warm, and familiar—everything you wanted it to be and more.

The soothing snores combined with the occasional creaks from the old floorboards, lulled you deeper into your dreams. The night passed peacefully, with the warmth of Dipper’s body against yours grounding you in the safety of the Shack.

When the first rays of the sun crept through the curtains, gently warming your face, you stirred awake. Groggily, you opened your eyes, allowing them to adjust to the dim room. As you rolled them around to moistened the socket, you felt the stare of another. Your gaze flickered over, finding yourself face-to-face with Dipper. His eyes were already open, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. As he noticed you waking up, his mouth parted slightly in a silent “oh.”

It seems like he’s been caught admiring you while your eyes were closed.

“Who’s the sleeping beauty now?” he teased, his smirked with amusement.

Your face softened as you mumbled something incoherent, not quite ready to leave the warmth of his embrace. You tucked yourself in further against his chest, the scent of pine and a hint of his laundry urged you to linger in the moment a little longer.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice a gentle rumble that echoed through his chest. His hand moved up to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair in a soothing motion.

“Ugh,” you grumbled, feeling the warmth of his laughter vibrating against you. “You’re such a dork, Dippin’ Dots.”

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You couldn’t help but laugh along with him, the soft morning light making everything feel a little bit more magical. Wrapped up in each other, the world outside the Shack felt like it could wait just a little longer.

Unfortunately, before you could fully bask in the peaceful morning, the door burst open with a loud bang. Mabel, brimming with energy, dashed into the room and leaped onto the bed, her laughter ringing out like a bell. "Rise and shine, lovebirds!" she declared, tugging at the blankets and yanking both you and Dipper out of bed.

"Mabel!" Dipper groaned, rubbing his eyes as he tried to resist her enthusiasm.

"No time for sleeping in! We've got a whole day of kindness to spread!" Mabel insisted, her voice filled with excitement. She grabbed your hands and pulled you both up, practically bouncing with eagerness. "Come on, come on! We’ve got a lot to set up before everyone arrives!"

As you stumbled out of bed, still shaking off the remnants of sleep, Mabel’s infectious energy was impossible to resist. After speed running your morning chores, the three of you quickly got to work, setting up the cozy outdoor spot Dipper had planned. Blankets were spread out, snacks arranged in baskets, and the small fire pit was prepared for marshmallow roasting later in the evening. Your cooled muffins were placed inside personalized bags set on a picnic table, each tied with a colored ribbon representing a person.

By the time Soos and Wendy arrived, they were tasked with the leftover decorations. The two of them shared their own acts of kindness. Soos, ever the handyman, had crafted personalized wooden trinkets for everyone, each one etched with a special memory he shared with the person. Wendy, with her cool and laid-back style, had put together a mixtape of everyone’s favorite songs, perfect for playing in the background as they all spent the day together.

You guys shared a casual chat, catching up on the missing times and events. You and Dipper were sitting on a log, blowing up balloons while Soos was balancing himself on a ladder, trying to hang up a banner.

Soos grinned broadly, his eyes shining with excitement. “Dudes, this is like, the most epic Random Act of Kindness Day ever! You guys really know how to throw a party. I’m totally gonna eat those glow-in-the-dark muffins later. They look like they’re straight out of a video game!” He rubs his stomach, almost stumbling a bit as he leans too far forward.

Wendy, leaning casually against a tree, nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you guys nailed it. This whole setup? Super chill vibes.”

She gave Dipper a playful wink, smirking. “You’ve got some serious planning skills, Pines. Maybe you should do this more often.”

“Haha…” Dipper shares a shy smile. He rubs the back of his neck, glad that his idea brought smiles and laughter. “Honestly, I couldn’t do this without you guys.”

Suddenly, you hear the distant sounds of voices approaching. With upturn eyes of delight, you gesture for everyone to get into position.

“Come on! Hurry! Hurry!” Mabel urged gleefully, practically bouncing on her toes as she tugged along Ford and Stan. Both men chuckled behind her, trying to keep up with their energetic niece.

Stan’s voice called out, full of warmth and curiosity. “Alright, alright, we’re coming! What’s all the fuss about?”

Ford, adjusting his glasses and grinning, added, “I have to admit, you’ve got my curiosity piqued. What’s this all about?”

The moment they rounded the corner, a burst of excitement awaited them. Dipper and Wendy blew party blowers with wide grins, while you and Soos threw handfuls of confetti into the air. Mabel let go to run over, joining you. “Surprise!” you all shouted in unison, your voices echoing through the clearing.

They stood there. Shocked. Stan’s eyes widened in delight as he took in the scene—an outdoor setup complete with blankets, snacks, and a small fire pit ready for marshmallow roasting. Ford’s stern expression softened, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Pausing for a moment as tears welled up in their eyes.

It seems like their hearts were soaring.

“Do you guys like it?!” Mabel exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with joy. “This is like the best surprise ever isn’t it?!”

Stan, ever the tough guy, tried to hide his emotion, but the gleam in his eyes gave him away. “You kids really went all out, didn’t ya?”

Ford nodded, looking genuinely touched. “Indeed. This is… quite something…”

Wendy laughed, giving Soos a high-five. “Aww guys!” She shoots finger guns at the old men. “Ford and Stan, you two deserve all this and more. It’s like you’ve got your own personal fan club now!” Gesturing at the scene, it really does seem like a party.

Stan chuckled, trying to keep his cool. “You know, I might have to admit this is one of the best surprises I’ve ever had. You kids really do know how to make a guy feel appreciated.” He seems to want to say something more.

Ford, noticing Stan’s struggle to find the right words, placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s clear how much thought and care went into this. It’s not just about the gifts or the festivities—it’s about the thoughtfulness behind them.”

You all stood there, basking in the warmth of gratitude and love. It seems like no one knew what to do next.

Seeing the tender moment, you decided it was time to shift gears. With a spark of mischief in your eyes, you stepped forward and flashed a bright smile. “Alright, now that we’ve got the heartfelt stuff out of the way, how about you two join us in the fun? We’ve got games, music, and of course, lots of snacks. What do you say?”

Mabel’s grin widened as she picked up on your cue. “Yeah, we’ve got a whole evening planned. And trust me, it’s going to be a blast. Plus, we can listen to the tracks Wendy made!”

Soos literally jumped in, adding his own enthusiastic flair. “I call dibs on those marshmallows and muffins!”

With everyone now gathered around, the night sky glittering overhead, the mood was set for a cozy, celebratory evening. As the fire blazed wildly, its warm light dancing across everyone's faces, everyone sat down on the logs, ready to enjoy the festivities.

Time passes and everyone bellies began to bulge from sweets and treats. While the fire crackled, the group exchanged their gifts, and laughter filled the air. It seemed like Mabel hadn’t just made sweaters for her Grunkles; she had crafted identical ones for everyone! As you all shrugged on the bright green attire, it felt like you were part of a colorful, quirky family of green people.

Your glow-in-the-dark muffins were a hit as well. Everyone enjoyed the sweet flavor with a hint of tang. It even looked cool as they shone in the dark night. Though, you swore that Soos ate too many and his eyes began shining like flashlights.

Mabel leaned over, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she observed Soos. “Soos, are you sure you don’t have superpowers now? You’re looking pretty electrifying!”

Soos, trying to look serious but failing miserably as his eyes flickered like strobe lights, replied, “I dunno, Mabel. I didn’t realize these muffins came with a side of superpowers! If I keep eating them, I might start charging my phone just by standing near it.”

The group burst into laughter, the playful banter adding to the joy of the night.

Dipper chuckled, glancing over at you with a smirk. “Looks like you’ve got a new competition for the most glowing personality in Gravity Falls.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, at least we know Soos won’t be getting lost in the dark anytime soon. Just hope he doesn’t start glowing in his sleep!”

Lastly, Stan and Ford had their own acts and gifts to share. Stan handed out coupons with a large step forward and a flourish, proudly declaring, “Get ‘em while they’re hot! Free knick-knacks for everyone!”

Dipper had a stupid smile as he blankly looked at the coupon, and then stared at Grunkle’s Stan’s proud expression. “Wow… I am never going to use this.”

It seems like everyone simultaneously agrees silently as they shoved the piece of laminated paper into their pockets. As for Ford’s gift, Ford begins with a warm smile, “I wanted to add my own little touch to the evening.”

As Ford hands out the personalized stargazing charts, each one meticulously wrapped in celestial-themed paper, Stan unwraps his with a bemused expression. He glances at Ford, raising an eyebrow.

“Look at this,” Stan says with a playful smirk. “My brother, the ultimate nerd, giving us star maps. Did you expect us all to become astronomers overnight?” He nudges his twin brother until Ford’s glasses falls crooked to one side.

Ford adjusts his glasses, his smile unwavering. “Well, you don’t have to keep it, Stan. I just thought it was a nice touch to remember the night sky from a special day. There’s even a booklet with some fun facts and a few anecdotes.”

Stan chuckles, shaking his head but clearly touched by the gesture. “Sheesh! Alright, alright. Guess I’ll just have to figure out how to use this thing now.”

Silence falls upon everyone as they continues to admire their stargazing charts, murmuring interesting facts and observations they found. Stan suddenly brightens up with a mischievous glint in his eye. He clears his throat, preparing to deliver his punchline.

“Hey Ford,” Stan calls out, practically to no one as he faced forward, “Since you’re so into the stars now, I’ve got a joke for you. Why did the astronaut break up with his girlfriend?”

Ford seemingly wants to groan, but he smiles knowingly and curiously says. “I don’t know, why?”

“Because he needed space!” Stan says with a grin, clearly proud of his joke. He swings a hand to smack his knee loudly, clearly delirious by his own joke.

The group bursts into laughter, and even Ford can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head in mock exasperation.

Out the corner of your eye, you notice that on your chart there was the Big Dipper. Just as you reached out to trace it with your finger, the actual Dipper clears his throat beside you. He’s not directly looking at you as he asks, “Do you have a moment, (Y/n)?”

You tilt your head, curiosity piqued. ���Sure! What’s up?”

He gestures with his thumb towards a secluded spot under a tree, away from the lively group. “Can I talk to you over there?”

You glance around and notice that no one seems to be paying attention to the two of you. They seem too caught up by Stan’s awful jokes. “Uhh… okay?” You follow him, slipping away from the laughter and chatter. As you walk, the warmth of the party fades, and the chilly night air makes you shiver. You pull your sweater closer, glad that it’s well knit to keep the cold out

Once you’re a few feet away from the group, Dipper takes a deep breath, clearly gathering his courage. The cool breeze rustles the leaves overhead, adding a subtle background to his nervous fidgeting. “So, um…” Dipper kicks a small rock with the tip of his shoe, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I got you something. I know it isn’t much, but I thought you might like it.”

He shyly pulls out a small, intricately crocheted keychain from behind his back. It features a charming mix of a crocheted Waddle, a tiny plastic pine tree, and a sparkling shooting star. Each piece combined to create a personalized keepsake that perfectly encapsulates the twins.

Dipper’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of red as he looks away, mumbling, “I thought it might be nice to have something to remind you of… well, of us.” He gestures to his sister and then himself.

You’re touched beyond words. You take a moment to admire the intricate details of the keychain, lifting it up to eye level, and feeling a rush of affection in your chest. It was like a bundle of nerves collecting into the pits of your stomach. “Thank you, Dipper. It’s perfect. I love it.”

His nervous smile softens into a genuine one as he meets your gaze. “I-It’s nothing. I’m glad you like it.” The tips of his cheeks and ears were lightly dusted with the shade of pink.

As you and Dipper make your way back to the party, you notice him glancing at you with a playful twinkle in his eye. “You know, (Y/n),” he begins with a smirk, “if you keep looking at that keychain with that much adoration, I might start getting jealous.”

You raise an eyebrow, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “Oh, really? And why would you be jealous of a little keychain?”

Dipper chuckles, shrugging dramatically. “Well, it’s not every day that you get overshadowed by a tiny Waddles and a plastic shooting star. I’m starting to feel like I’m in the shadow of a bunch of craft supplies.”

You laugh, leaning closer to him. “Don’t worry, Dipper. You’re always the star of my show. Even if your competition includes a crocheted pig.”

Before Dipper can respond, Mabel’s voice rings out, cutting through the playful banter. ““Hey! You two lovebirds! Come here!” Maybel shouts enthusiastically. She’s jumping up and down with a camera in her hands to capture your attention.

You and Dipper glance at each other, your smiles widening. “Looks like we’re needed,” you say, taking his hand.

“Guess the star has to share the spotlight,” Dipper replies with a wink as you both head back to the group.

Mabel, standing in the middle of the gathered crowd with her camera, waves enthusiastically. “Come on, come on! Everyone gather around!”

You and Dipper make your way back to the campfire. Ford and Stan stand in the back behind a long, thick log, the former adjusting his glasses and the latter with his arms crossed, trying to look nonchalant but clearly enjoying the moment. Soos is to Stan’s right, grinning ear to ear, while Wendy crouches down to sit next to you, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

You take Dipper’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Ready for this?”

“Absolutely,” Dipper says with a grin, squeezing back as Mabel directs everyone.

“I’m going to take a picture! Everyone say, ‘Random Act of Kindness Day!’” Mabel calls out, setting the camera on the make-shift camera holder using yarn, popsicle sticks, and glitter. She tiptoed to start the three-second timer and as the seconds ticked down, she grabs Waddles, who happily snuggles in her arms with a loud oink, and rushes over to sit next to her brother.

One…

Ford flashes a rare hint of a smile while Stan grins from ear to ear. “Ever notice that posing for photos is like holding your breath? The longer you do it, the harder it is to remember why you’re smiling.” He mutters, though his eyes betrays a glimmer of delight despite his smile dropping momentarily.

Two…

You shoot him a look of concern. Man… and you thought Grunkle Ford was weird.

Three!

The camera flashes brightly, the sound of laughter and cheers filling the air as everyone enthusiastically shouts, “Random Act of Kindness Day!”

The photo prints out and gently falls onto the forest floor, the paper swaying slightly as the wind picks up. Mabel shoves Waddles into the secure arms of her brother, her shoes crunch on the fallen leaves as she leaves to eagerly picks up the photo, her smile wider than ever.

She waves the print triumphantly. “Another one for the scrapbook!” she exclaim.

You watch as Mabel’s excitement is mirrored by the rest of the group. With the photo safely in hand, she turns to show everyone, her enthusiasm infectious. They crowd around the jumping little girl, amused by their expressions or asking for a redo. Even Waddles is oinking excitedly as he wiggles out of Dipper’s embrace and runs around the group.

Soft brown hair touches the tip of your head as Dipper leans in closer to you, his voice low and playful. “So, how does it feel to be part of such a perfect day?” His eyes are twinkling.

You smile, leaning your head against his shoulder. “It feels pretty amazing. Especially with you by my side.”

[art-of-a-space-duck]

Another drawing I dug out of my Discord to finally publicly post, this time of what I imagine Murderbot’s internal anatomy to be.

A breakdown:

Brain: Includes human neurons, a combination organic and inorganic hypothalamus, and computer brainstuff (including the threat assessment and governor modules)

Sensory Organs: Very sensitive and adjustable eyes, ears, and nose. Technically also includes the plating on the back of its head to allow it to wirelessly link up with other digital systems and the nerves all along its body

Respiratory System: Lungs are small and unidirectional, more akin to a bird’s or reptile’s than a mammal’s for greater efficiency. (Thank you to Your Dinosaurs are Wrong for teaching me that.)

Heart: Also small. Transports everything to the right place including oxygen, energy-source molecules, hormones, immune system nanobots, and so on

Power Cells: The main power cells are situated in the chest. There are power cells surrounding the brain stem and spinal cord to better fuel mental processes as well as cells in the abdomen just in case the main ones become damaged or depleted. It also specifically has power cells just for its arm guns

Waste Management: It may not eat, but its cells would still produce waste. This inorganic organ is for holding and processing said waste (as well as pathogens and other unuseful materials). It decomposes these materials into something that can be breathed out, used as fuel, turned into new cells, or (rarely) just sit there until these organs are drained or replaced during surgery

Cell Production: To reduce the risk of genetic mutation (and to make up for the lack of bone marrow), all new cells and nanobots are produced here from stem cells then distributed to the correct parts of the body. This is mostly just red blood cells, but also includes a few other cells. Note that my current headcanon is that constructs can heal on their own, but far slower than humans and are near completely reliant on external medical care to repair damaged body parts

Hormone Producer: It mostly makes adrenaline, but it can make other stuff too like oxytocin

Support Structure: Very tough and not as heavy as you’d think futuristic metal. Arteries and veins flow through it

Muscles: Mostly inorganic

Guns: It has energy projectiles in its arms. I do not understand weapons, so that is all you’re getting

Subcells: Because its limbs are detachable, its larger joints have power cell + waste management systems in them to keep the organic parts of said limbs operational for a short period of time. Also helpful as an extra source of power and waste management when the limbs are attached

Immune System (not shown): All constructs have a nanobot-based immune system that does a pretty good job of protecting them from pathogens that would harm their organic parts. This artificial immune system is pretty aggressive since constructs can’t reproduce and don’t have to keep other microorganisms within them to survive

[thursdayisbetterthanfriday]

Science Fiction as a Reflection on Society - PLUTO & The Cycle of Hate

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING -You can read this before reading PLUTO but it will spoil many major plot points!

In 2015, I picked up a manga volume in a London bookshop called PLUTO. I had a burgeoning interest in AI, and computer science, at the time and had read Naoki Urasawa's manga Monster many years prior. It seemed a perfect read. Little did I know, it would become my favourite manga.

As I read the first volume I realised this wasn't just a simple Astro Boy adaptation. Like many of Urasawa's stories, PLUTO was a layered story which took its source material and asked fundamental questions about its premise.

The more innocent veneer of the Astro Boy world was stripped away, and echoes of the Middle East, of Afganistan, Iraq and Palestine, were transposed into the background of what was on the surface a simple detective story plot. The long memories, and relentless logic, of robots became a means by which conflict could be examined, but also a way to reveal the weaknesses in the non-empathetic nature of robotics and AI.

Instead of a traditional manga and anime trope of beating the strongest villain against the odds, it became a tragic, yet hopeful, story about the long-tail effects of trauma and how our memories of the past, remembered or misremembered, shape our present.

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it

From the 1980s Soviet invasion to the modern day US involvement in the Middle East, the trauma of the conflict had lasting impacts on both the invaded countries, and those who invaded. Talented people, who at peace could have done and produced great things, were reduced to administering corrupt governments, fighting occupying forces and wasting their lives on a fractious peace based on subterfuge and realpolitik.

Robot Mont. Blanc, killed in the opening part of PLUTO acts as the introduction of this theme. A deeply environmentalist robot, who was beloved by mountaineers and children alike, was sent to fight in a war whose values conflicted with his own.

Despite his experiences, he went on to live in his old life - tending to and caring for the Swiss Alps and those who lived within them, but was ultimately killed by a mysterious perpetrator.

This theme is carried through with all the "greatest robots on Earth", who are targeted by PLUTO, and who all are trying to make something of their lives after the end of the conflict, most of whom have managed to shake off the negative experiences of their past - while still being haunted by it.

During the gradual decolonization of the colonial powers of Europe in the Middle East, there existed periods in the Middle East of relative calm and stability. People were able to life affluent, and prosperous lives without the threat of violence and revolution - with collaboration between US, European and USSR workers and those who lived there allowing for the construction of infrastructure and advanced manufacturing facilities.

But what about those who can't deal with their past. What about those who are deeply damaged?

PLUTO - The Greatest Trauma on Earth

MAJOR PLOT SPOILER WARNING

So what is PLUTO? Who is PLUTO? He is nothing more than a robot who loves flowers, created by the Persian scientist Dr Abullah. His love for the plant makes him want to plant flowers across the country, to fill it with beauty and richness. He is someone with hopes, and dreams, to make a beautiful world which can be enjoyed by the people who live there.

At least, that's what he used to be.

As the 39th Central Asian Conflict drags on, Dr Abdullah become bitter and resentful at what has happened to his country. A once proud nation reduced to rubble and ruin. Instead of encouraging his robotic son to plant flowers, he fills his son with a vast hatred against those who have committed violence against his people.

The son who wanted nothing more than to make the world a better place is indoctrinated by his father into a being of pure rage, while fully knowing his previous self. The two sides of his personality ripping and tearing at each other in a self-contradictory nightmare.

Just as PLUTO is turned into a loathing monstrosity by his family, upbringing and situation - so too are those who live, fight and die in conflicts. Both the 2023 murder of innocent Israelis by Hamas, and the subsequent murders of innocent Palestinians by Israel have no doubt radicalised a new generation of martyrs, while their leaders - those meant to be inspiring and running the country in their name - directly encourage mass murder on both sides.

In Afghanistan, the hopes of a democratic society were undermined by a corrupt Western imposed system which broke down into Taliban rule in 2022. Collaborators killed or tortured. Women, once again, forced into roles they had broken out of.

But this cuts both ways.

In Afghanistan, both the Soviet invasion of the 1980s and the US/Coalition invasions of the 2000s led to a surge in Western soliders who came home from war angry, disillusioned and in mental and physical pain. Sometime from IED amputations, sometimes from PTSD and severe mental health issues.

Some survived the war, only to transfer their trauma to others at home or to end their own lives at their own hands. A generation of young military lives lost.

The Politics of Hate

Newton's third law states: Each action has an equal, but opposite, reaction. This often occurs socially.

This is ever present in PLUTO with the Anti-robot league. That robots have any rights at all is anathema to these people, who organise a conspiracy to destroy the social fabric of robots in society through targeted assassinations and hatred.

Through their actions, they aim to convert others to their cause and roll back decades of progress in the world of PLUTO.

This occurs in reality just as readily.

The 9/11, 2001 Twin Towers bombings brought together the American people in sorrow, but they also led to the enabling of war.

It didn't matter that Saudi Arabia had allowed Osama Bin Laden to live, and plan, in their country prior to the attacks. It was Afghanistan and Iraq that were targeted on the most spurious of grounds. This was enabled, in part, by swathes of the public who wanted a form of revenge but was mainly supported by neo-cons in government.

The two sides of the coin in Gaza are Hamas, with their backers, and the hard right Israeli government.

Hope

Despite the past, hope and recovery are still possible. This is what the story of North #2 and retired composer Paul Duncan reveals to us. An early inclusion in the manga, it also reveals some of the lighter themes of the work.

Paul Duncan's memories of his childhood, and his perceived Mother's abandonment of him to boarding school and almost terminal illness have coloured his entire life. When we meet him, he is a bitter old man who has a writer's block, and has taken on the ex-military robot North #2 as his butler.

But as the story reveals, Duncan's memories are coloured by his misconceptions of events. As North #2 learns to play the piano, against Duncan's wishes, he reveals the notes of the song that Duncan has been humming from his sleep - a song Duncan's mother used to sing to him as a child. It turns out that Ducan's mother didn't abandon him for a rich husband, but used that husband's wealth to pay for his expensive life-saving treatment and schooling.

It is only by dealing with the past, working through his trauma, that Duncan is able to heal in the present and move on with his life.

Conflict in Northern Ireland existed until the recent past of the late 1990s. This was against a backdrop of centuries of conflict between British settlers and the Irish natives. The Republic of Ireland was created in 1916 - but several Northern Counties remained in British control.

The period between 1916 and the Good Friday Agreement were filled with terrorist action by the IRA against the British Army and the repression of Catholic Irish people in the form of police/army brutality, gerrymandering, discriminatory hiring practices and in other forms.

This was only resolved through dialogue at the highest level between the British Government and Sinn Fein - the political wing of the IRA. It resulted in a peace process which has lasted decades, and has resulted in a generation who can now live, love and work with each other. This required hard decisions, to put past differences and strong emotional ties behind both sides. The results are extraordinary - and offer hope for any conflict.

Conclusions

The best stories I have read take the author's present experience, and insight, and use fiction as a vehicle to explore their themes and ideas. PLUTO takes the historical context of modern world events, and wraps it in an Astro Boy story which tells a story of how trauma, and hate, perpetuate themselves in cycles which come back to haunt and destroy others.

We can learn a lot from such stories. We should learn from them.

It is easy to continue to hate others, and react against clear provocations. It takes courage, bravery and sacrifice to break the cycle and begin anew - to create a new world. A world that Atom represents. A world with a brighter future.

[asteroidtroglodyte]

The particular Cosmic Horror of:

• Growing up very much willing to reduce waste and recycle and try to help the environment,

• Becoming an Adult and getting a real job,

• Your job is to generate more waste than you prevented for your entire life up to that point,

Like. Between the food that I saw get thrown away in every restaurant, to the construction materials wasted on every job site, to the water wasted in every hotel, I have this to say to folks who thinks buying the right product matters:

[world-of-wales]

THE PRINCE DIARIES ♔

30 APRIL 2024 || NORTHEAST ENGLAND (1/2) : LOW CARBON MATERIALS

The Prince will be carried out engagements in the Northeast of England. He first visited, 2022 Earthshot Prize Finalist - Low Carbon Materials, in Seaham. During his visit he saw firsthand how they make their cutting-edge, carbon-negative products, and heard about the impact that being nominated for the Prize has had on the company. Low Carbon Materials was founded by three Material Science PhD students with the vision of becoming a world leader in low-carbon and environmentally friendly construction materials. They set out to develop products with the potential to drastically reduce emissions within the construction industry. William visited LCM's Research and Development lab where he was shown how the company creates and tests concrete samples containing their flagship product OSTO®. He also saw a a demonstration of LCM's process of incorporating waste CO2 into their products.

[reasonsforhope]

"Heat stored underground in caverns can be set aside in Finland’s summer months to be re-used during frigid winters thanks to a state-of-the-art ‘seasonal energy’ storage facility.

Slated for construction this summer near Helsinki, it will be the largest in the world by all standards and contain enough thermal energy to heat a medium-sized city all winter.

Thermal exchange heating systems, like those built underground, or domestic heat pumps, are seen as the most effective way available of reducing the climate-impact of home heating and cooling.

Their function relies on natural forces or energy recycling to cool down or heat up water and then using it to radiate hot or cold energy into a dwelling.

In Vantaa, Finland’s fourth largest city neighboring the capital of Helsinki, the ambitious Varanto seasonal energy storage project plans to store cheap and environmental friendly waste heat from datacenters, cooling processes, and waste-to-energy assets in underground caverns where it can be used to heat buildings via the district heating network whenever it is needed.

In Finland and other Nordic countries, the heat consumption varies significantly between seasons. Heat consumption in the summertime is only about one-tenth of the peak load consumption during the cold winter months.

Varanto will utilize underground caverns equal in space to two Maddison Square Gardens—over a million cubic meters—filled with water heated by this waste heat and pressure that will allow the water to reach temperatures of up to 300 degrees Fahrenheit without the water boiling or evaporating.

“The world is undergoing a huge energy transition. Wind and solar power have become vital technologies in the transition from fossil fuels to clean energy,” says Vantaa Energy CEO Jukka Toivonen.

“The biggest challenge of the energy transition so far has been the inability to store these intermittent forms of energy for later use. Unfortunately, small-scale storage solutions, such as batteries or accumulators, are not sufficient; large, industrial-scale storage solutions are needed. Varanto is an excellent example of this, and we are happy to set an example for the rest of the world.” ...

“Two 60-MW electric boilers will be built in conjunction with Varanto,” adds Toivonen. “These boilers will be used to produce heat from renewable electricity when electricity is abundant and cheap. Our heat-producing system will work like a hybrid car: alternating between electricity and other forms of production, depending on what is most advantageous and efficient at the time.”

... Construction of the storage facility’s entrance is expected to start in summer 2024, while it could be operational as early as 2028."

-via Good News Network, April 12, 2024. Video via VantaanEnergia, March 10, 2024

[jades-typurriter]

Cache Clearing

A piece I did in a bit of a frenzy after working with (you guessed it) Bowsiosaurus on the design for a new OC: meet Posie!! The thought process here was literally, like, no sooner than we decided on "make a Renamon" i was like "hey what if she ate a bunch of data", so, I hope you enjoy it as much as she seemed to =^w^=

CW: Weight gain, tummy/breast expansion, stern office woman is so full from Information yum

A tall, stately fox moved down the drab, linoleum-and-drop-tile maintenance corridor with the same grace, the same level and unerring gait, that one of her four-legged, flesh-and-bone counterparts might display while stalking prey through the underbrush. Though her feet ended in points, modeled as a smooth taper from her knee to a single vertex apiece, the clack of high heels echoed down the empty hallway with each step. Her purpose was singular, and her focus undivided.

She was a Renamon who had adapted to a digital landscape that was as predictable as it was unforgiving; while her predecessors were more suited to the wild west of the adolescent internet, all the precision and discipline that they dedicated to roughhousing instead allowed her to operate within the razor-thin margins of error of the corporate world. She kept things running, and that was exactly what she made her way to the server room to do now.

She waved a paw over the electronic lock on the door, an uncannily smooth, mechanical motion, made with the other paw primly held behind her ramrod-straight back. It was a far cry from the jerky, stiff displays one might expect from a physical construct, though the knob turned under her touch as though she was solid as steel. As it swung closed behind her, she approached the subject of her attention for her next task: server rack B-0, a cabinet of solid-state drives stacked even higher than she was, each loaded to the brim with trade secrets, proprietary information, logs of confidential exchanges, schematics, financial records. All of it was outdated. She had been sent by the management to ensure that it was properly deleted.

Her lip curled into a sneer at the thought. Data disposal was so… undignified. It was beneath a woman of her stature. She had thoroughly demonstrated her particular capabilities: the multitasking necessary direct intra-system traffic in real time, reducing latency; her knack for optimizing data for the most efficient storage; she had even taken the initiative to create financial projections from the figures under her care. And still they expected her to perform a task so crude that any program picked up on a shovelware site could handle it without complication! She huffed, her eyes narrowed into her typical glare, as though she wished she could melt the damned server with the infrared beams she would otherwise use to communicate with it.

Nonetheless, there was no use putting it off any longer. The 2.6 seconds she had spent ruminating could have been better spent elsewhere, and she would be remiss to waste even more time. She was the Renamon assigned to maintaining the integrity of the company’s data center, and she would not shirk that duty, no matter how uncouth it was. She unlatched the wire-mesh cabinet door, reached into the rack, and removed the first drive in the array with a soft k-chk.

Closing her eyes and bracing herself with a deep breath, she brought the disk to her snout, opened her mouth, and moved as though to take a bite out of it. Her pointed, polygonal teeth passed harmlessly through the metal, phasing as she could through any of the other surfaces in the building (though she made a point of logging her activities by using her credentials at doors, like any other employee). The data on the two plates within, however, were far from unscathed—bits parted like the muscle fibers in a succulent cut of steak, zeroed out as she pulled the drive from between her lips, swallowing the information once contained within.

She let out an almost-gasp—Pahhh!—like she was trying not to gag. It wasn’t that the data were unpalatable. Far from it; she could, begrudgingly, understand why her wild cousins were so apt to chew through any unsecured files they could get their paws on. It was the task itself that was distasteful: this was only the first bite of the first drive in the entire rack! She resented that her superiors seemed to think of her as a bottomless recycle bin. Besides, work of this nature came up rather infrequently. Reacclimating herself to the sensation of eating was always a touch uncomfortable.

She powered through regardless, knowing the feeling would settle as she got further underway. She brought the drive back up to her face, taking another bite further into the plate, as though she was gnawing off segments of a particularly thick chocolate bar; with her other paw, she disengaged another drive from the rack. She nibbled off the last morsel of data from the first drive and brought the second immediately to her maw; it was… more efficient to do it that way. As fast as possible. The sooner she could get all these units formatted, the better, of course.

Replacing the first, now-empty drive, she replaced it in its slot and reached for a third as she chewed on the second. On and on she went, paws working in perfect unison to maintain an unbroken chain of drives to deplete; she might have compared herself to a juggler if her cheeks weren’t already burning from the indignity. Electrons slid down her tongue—her mouth was watering more than she cared to acknowledge—and down the back of her throat. Bite. Swallow. Bite. Swallow. Replace. Switch. Bite. Swallow. Bite.

Her pace only increased as she continued. Of course it would. A computer performs better after it’s had time to warm up, after all. And, of course, she simply wanted this to be done and over with as quickly as possible. It was a mercy that she didn’t need to pay any mind to her volume controls, as far away from any other personnel as the data center was. Not that she was paying attention anyway, fully-focused on completing her task as she was. Nobody—not even herself—would notice the muffled mmphs and nnffs she made as she pressed on.

All the data on the disks had to go somewhere, and it was at this point in the process that that tended to become apparent. Beneath the fur on her chest, meticulously brushed and fastidiously fluffed, her breasts became gradually more prominent. At first, the tuft was enough to mostly obscure them—after all, so what if she seemed slightly fluffier that day?—but was soon outpaced. Electrical charges by the millions, now unmoored from their tidy array inside the drives, now sloshed into her, taking up more and more of her own storage space. In short order, the fluff was scarcely enough to cover just her cleavage.

One third of the way through the server rack, now. Still, her pace only increased, one drive in each paw.

Her thighs were already rather prodigious. They were the majority of her curves, under normal circumstances, and she took some pride in the matronly figure that she cut as a result. Now, they pressed closer and closer together beneath the skirt of fur that she sported, the conical abstractions of her lower extremities widening bite by bite (and byte by byte). They pressed further and further outward, straining the “garment” itself, pushing the hem further and further up along her legs; the circular patterns on her hips, reminiscent of loading symbols, became distorted, stretched. She would have thought it was a crude change, not unlike resizing an image file with improper scaling—if she were capable of focusing on anything other than the gigabytes upon gigabytes she was so doggedly downloading.

Well over halfway now. She was shoving storage into her maw two at a time, with both paws. If she was able to hold more drives at a time, she would have; as a matter of fact, it didn’t stop her from trying.

The largest component of her directory—her midsection—naturally took the brunt of the new load. Slowly, the soft, icy-blue fur of her tummy billowed out, first simply swelling as her stomach filled, then folding onto itself, rolls smushing down on each other under their newfound, still-growing weight. Soon enough, she found herself pressed up against the lower racks of the server, though even in her focused state, she hadn’t realized that she had stepped closer. She hadn’t moved any closer, of course, but she needed to step further back regardless: she found that she was beginning to struggle to bend over, straining against herself to reach the lowest-mounted drives in the array.

Finally, heaving for breath, she extended her paw for another drive and found none remaining that needed to be cleared. She blinked and, once she was more aware of herself, pushed down a sense of disappointment. Instead, she straightened herself (allowing the new mass to settle to a stop after the motion), dusted her skirt, and conjured a good riddance air about herself as she closed the server door once again. She could still find pride in a job well done, even if she was loathe to do the job.

As she stepped out once again into the hallway, ensuring that the door was securely closed—not that there was a single trace remaining of anything sensitive that had been stored there—she folded her hands behind her back and surprised herself with a burp that was most definitely ladylike. One paw flew to her snout as it echoed down the hallway, both in shock and to hide the near-glow of her cheeks. She glanced in either direction: mercifully, still vacant. Her shoulders slumped in relief, one of the rare occasions on which she relaxed her posture. Thankfully, nobody but her would know that she’d had to do one of her dirtier jobs today. She set off back the way she had came, her footsteps now playing at maximum volume—not even a clack anymore as much as a clomp.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it =^w^= If you'd like to see more of my writing, have a look here and here!

[desertdollranch]

Opening and reviewing my first Australian Girl doll

She spent more than a month in a box, making her way halfway across the world to her new home, and now here she is! I'm so relieved that she arrived safely. It was the longest I've ever had to wait for a doll, and through much of her journey I didn't know where she was or when she would be here.

I don't want to drop too big of a spoiler, but listen to this........ she was so worth the wait, and the money. This doll instantly won my heart with how exquisite she is in every way.

Australian Girl dolls were specially made for Australian children, by Helen Schofield, a grandmother who loved dolls. She created the brand when she couldn't find an age appropriate doll that was locally available or good quality. So she created these dolls to help children feel pride in Australian culture, while teaching them about friendship and empathy. There are five girls to befriend--Amy, Jasmine, Emily, Bronte, and Matilda, each representing a different region of the country, ethnicity, and lifestyle.

The company itself has quite high standards. They strive to reduce waste in their product packaging, and they use a factory in China that treats its workers humanely and does not use child labor.

If you've been around my blog for a while, you know how much I love collecting diverse brands and types of play dolls, especially international dolls. Also, this one will be extra special because I actually have an Australian grandmother--she's also a doll collector, and I'm looking forward to showing her my new doll the next time I see her.

After the cut, I'll show you who she is, and talk about why I chose her. I'll compare her with similar-sized dolls as well, and have her do some dressing up.

Before we get to the unboxing, let's check out the little goodies included with my doll.

First is a little pamphlet explaining why the dolls are special, but also represent real girls growing up in Australia.

There's another pamphlet about how to care for your doll.

All of the dolls come with a fun freebie: this cute pair of thongs.

Another freebie (a $30 AUD value) is this very sturdy doll carrier with pockets for accessories.

I also bought a pair of sneakers for my new girl. I figured her feet would be a bit larger than my other dolls, and these are cute, so she now has three pairs of shoes to wear.

Anyway. Enough of the small stuff. Let's let her out of the box.

It's Amy from Adelaide!

I chose Amy after three entire years of being indecisive and going back and forth on exactly which Australian Girl I wanted. They're all equally adorable, so I picked Amy because her personality seems very sweet, and I love that she has mixed heritage. According to the Austrlaian Girl dolls website, Amy's family tree is a mix of Aboriginal and Dutch on her mother's side, and English and Indian/Fijian on her father's side. Very representative of modern Australia!

I have no regrets. She is perfect!!! Just the most charming little angel. I am officially WOWED.

I'm seriously impressed at the superior quality of her construction. I understand why she was priced a bit higher than similar dolls. She is, from head to toe, beautifully made, with so many sweet details. Her dress and shoes are also impeccably made and feel very durable.

Her hair is flawless. It's a Kanekalon wig with loose curls, in a gorgeous shade of brown. Her eyes open and close. She has both painted and attached eyelashes.

She has a gap between her big toe and the next toe, so she can wear her sandals and thongs.

Her elbows are dimpled and she has subtle blush color on parts of her skin, including elbows and hands.

She has a crease across her palm.

She has articulation at her shoulders, hips, and neck. Her limbs, head, and shoulders are vinyl, and she has a huggable soft tummy. I don't really have a strong preference for either cloth torsos, vinyl torsos, or half and half like Amy. They all have pros and cons. This specific construction is nice in that she can wear low-neckline clothes without showing a cloth body, but it does make her harder to repair in case she has to be fixed.

I have a pretty good idea of what she'll be wearing when she's ready to change out of her pink party dress.

The first photo shows her in a dress I made. The second is a Maplelea dress and hat. The rest are all American Girl brand clothing, except for the shoes. Amy can comfortably wear most stretchy clothes by AG and similar brands like Our Generation, but her feet absolutely will not fit AG, OG, or Maplelea shoes.

The exception to the clothes is some of the tighter pieces. This AG shirt did not fit well. Amy's shoulders are a bit more broad than smaller dolls, and so without some extra give this is too tight.

Amy is 20 inches/51 centimeters tall. Here she is next to my Our Generation doll Jordana. I'm using an OG doll because they're actually available locally in Australia. Whereas American Girl dolls, which I usually use when I compare brands, have to make an overseas journey. So it's only fair that I consider any Australians reading this now who are wondering how Amy compares.

Amy is tall, but not the tallest doll in the family! Here she is next to Fernanda, my Karito Kids doll, who is about an inch taller although slimmer. Karito Kids dolls are in fact just slightly skinnier than American Girl dolls, so they have a much easier time sharing clothes.

In conclusion, I highly highly recommend this doll. She's absolutely sublime! I'm so thrilled to have her here, and I'm looking forward to having lots of adventures with her.

Obviously I'm far from Australia, but my Amy will still live her life as if she were in a suburb outside of the city of Adelaide. I've been looking at pictures of the geography of the state of South Australia, and there are some places in the mountainous parts that look pretty similar to the desert southwest where I live. So Amy will have no idea she's actually in the USA. Don't tell her the truth!