#solid and liquid waste management

[vinayakmehta]

Essentiality of Solid and liquid waste management for proper waste disposal

It's crucial to dispose of garbage properly in order to preserve and improve public health, environmental health, and the development of a healthy society. It is crucial to manage solid and liquid waste on a distinct criterion due to unforeseen leaks or discharges. Let's learn why it is crucial to properly dispose of both solid and liquid trash.

[frownyalfred]

What do you think the bathroom situation is on patrol? Are they breaking into the library? Have a deal with the night manager of the 7/11? This thought gives me so much anxiety, as someone who's had to work on the road in a busy city!

Chemical composting set ups or mobile packets, for worst case scenarios. Otherwise you’re running and working hard most nights, you might sweat out most liquids before you seriously have to pee. If you split the shifts into 4-hour sprints, theoretically they could all swap off with their patrol partner right around the time they’d seriously need to pee. But yeah, I think ideally something that could convert liquid into solid waste that could be discreetly disposed of without being tracked back to them would be ideal (I’m not saying a pee pad but like…in an emergency, the gel absorbs the water and becomes thicker gel and you can pick that up and throw it away, etc. maybe they toss it in the river or sewer to cover their tracks)

[solarpunkbusiness]

Mycotech: The Indonesian Startup Biofabricating novel materials from mushrooms

Called Mycotech Lab, the company was inspired by tempeh, the traditional Indonesian food made from fermented soybeans, and came up with its own technology to grow its ethical and carbon-friendly mycelium-based materials. 

Mycotech Lab decided to experiment with the fermentation process used to make tempeh to make a new fabric out of the complex root structure of mushrooms, otherwise known as mycelium. It was a lengthy trial-and-error process that kicked off in 2016, but “finally, we found one mushroom with a mycelium that can be made into binding material,” said Erlambang Ajidarma, head of research at the startup, in conversation with Reuters. 

The final product, developed with fungus grown on sawdust that then gets scraped off and dried and cut into different sizes, is Mylea, a fibrous but tough material that acts just like the real thing. It’s waterproof, pliable, durable, and most importantly, is far more sustainable than existing plastic-based synthetic leathers or carbon-intensive real leather made from hide. 

Mycotech also uses natural dye extracted from roots, leaves and food waste in the region to colour their leather alternative, which again is a process that is far less polluting than traditional tanning processes used for real cowhide that leaves behind solid and liquid waste that contains chromium and other hazardous compounds.

Since its inception, Mycotech has managed to grow its client base with no marketing budget because the demand for sustainable alternatives has grown alongside awareness of the damaging effects of animal-based materials in the fashion industry. 

We the Fungi

Bio Binderless Board | Sustainable non-adhesive binder board from Mylea™ byproduct to meet modern architectural and design standards

Biodegradable Solid-Composite | Utilizing mushroom mycelium that grows and is shaped into desired form and utilities.   

[fartlovingblkguy69]

The Little Men’s Toilet Slave Part 2

And with that he turned around and I got to see the most magnificent ass. It was big and round, muscular with a nice layer of fat and hairy as fuck! I’ve never seen an ass so hairy before! This is the type of ass that I ordinarily would have wanted to bury my face deep in and rim for hours but given what I knew was about to happen I wanted to throw up! This was made worse by the fact that when he bent over teasingly, I was assaulted by a smell akin to hot sewage mixed with garlic and there were stains and dingleberries all throughout his filthy forest of a crack. As he backed up to my face he reached back and further spread his cheeks allowing me to see his hole underneath a thick ring of fur and his hole opened and pushed out, releasing a nasty sbd before slamming his hole down on my nose. Fssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh “Ah, I need to get rid of some more gas before I open the flood gates or else I’ll drown our new toilet bitch and then he’ll be no use to anyone! Let me see the footage we’ve shot so far while I relieve myself!” he said rubbing his aching, bloated stomach. He sat there farting away with his filthy hair hole sucking my nose in and constantly dripping a sample of the sludge that was about to fill my mouth into my nostrils. It was getting harder with each fart for him not shit all over me. I could tell, but he wanted to drag this out as long as possible and to be quite frank I was in no hurry to get to the main even myself. Finally after half an hour he slowly stood up and groaned “Open your mouth toilet! It’s time! I really can’t hold it anymore! If I smell or spill any of this I swear to God I’m gonna vomit all over your cute face and i don’t want that so after I make you swallow I’ll let Josh (the hot asf blond guy from earlier) and his boys stomp the fuck out of you! This can go easy or it can be extremely painful! Your choice!” He gently patted my stomach and started to sit back down. I reluctantly opened my mouth and watched in horror as before he was even seated his hole seemed to spasm and out pushed the biggest pile of slop I’ve ever seen! It was soft, lumpy shit, not quite liquid, but definitely nowhere near solid and it stunk like rotten eggs that had been left under the burning sun for days! It quickly filled my mouth and with much effort Kyle managed to pull his hairy hole shut. “Hurry up and swallow that! There’s so much more inside me and I will let it out all over your face if I have to! Don’t chew, just swallow! You can savor my shit another time! I’m in too much pain right now!” I struggled to swallow, my throat burning and closing, gagging and trying not explosively throw up the toxic waste that was in my mouth and nostrils and felt like it was penetrating every part of my being. He slapped my stomach and said “Round 2! Here it comes in 5 seconds and remember what happens if it doesn’t end up in your mouth!” I hurriedly swallowed and opened my mouth right as the next blast came bursting out. This continued for 6 mouthfuls over the course of the next 40 minutes with many wet farts in between each torrent of loose, sludgy shit. Finally he exclaimed “Damn that felt great to let out! I can’t believe how much better I feel! You can’t imagine how much pain I was in! Now lick me clean!” as I sat there and thought to myself, You were in pain? What about me you piece of shit! You narcissistic asshole! What the hell is wrong with you? But I knew better than to say any of that so I just lay there licking his entire crack clean in silence before moving to his disgusting hole. He smiled down at me and affectionately rubbed my very full, very bloated belly. “I think you deserve a reward for being such a good helper! I can’t wait to give it to you later! I think you’ll like it! In the meantime I gotta get back to filming! Anyone else need a bathroom break with the new toilet?” Of course there stood Josh with an evil smirk on his face. Here we go again! (To Be Continued)

[enhastolemyheart]

BROKEN — P. SH

pairing sunghoon x reader

genre angst, unrequited love (?)

synopsis who knew that you would be too late when it came to confessing to your childhood crush?

warnings crying, overthinking, proofread but lmk if any mistakes

word count 1.2k

networks @k-films @/hyfenet

note HI! I'm back with a fic!! I wanted to write something out real quick and was feeling like angsty saur this is the result!! Hope you guys like it :)

Why can’t I just say how I feel? Why can't I just let Sunghoon know?

It shouldn’t be hard. It should be natural. The most natural thing on earth. Everyone does it, right? Everyone’s always done it. It’s nothing. Just one small step. A few words. A few taps of a keyboard, even.

I reach for my phone. I’m gonna do it. I could call you, or… no. I’ll text. It’s less stressful that way, for me and for you. It lets us make sure we say precisely what we mean. Less chance for misunderstandings.

I open up my messages and scroll to your name. It’s not hard to find. I could pick your face out of a crowd anywhere. Opening the conversation, I start to type.

Hey Sunghoon, I was just wondering, would you maybe-

No.

That’s not good. It’s too weak. Too apprehensive. You’d smell the fear through the screen. I need to project confidence. I try again.

Hey, do you want to go to dinner with me sometime?

I ponder this for a while, eventually shaking my head. It’s too abrupt and unclear. You might not realise that I mean as a date. You might think I’m talking about a casual platonic meetup. That’s not a mistake I want to make. I want you to know what I’m asking. I want to know what your answer means. Sighing, I glance around my room, searching for inspiration. It’s a waste of time. Hundreds of books and movies, yet not a single one can give me the answers I need. In desperation, I turn to the world’s most treacherous source of advice. The internet.

Sure, there’s a lot of garbage on there, but if you slog past the cheesy pick-up lines and pseudo-psychology, there really are a few hidden gems. Not that I can find them. Almost everything I read is about dating in person. Standing up straight. Projecting confidence through physicality. Maybe even a bit of light contact, a hand on the arm, that sort of thing. Solid advice, but utterly useless to me since, you know, you’re halfway across the country right now. Still, slowly but surely, I cobble something together that sounds more or less decent.

Hey, I know you were back in town recently. How about Friday we go for dinner at that pizza place you like, then afterwards take a walk through the park? They’ve revamped the gardens, and I think you’d love them.

Dinner and a romantic, moonlit walk. That sounds like a date, I suppose. I’ve managed to make my intentions clear. Plus, I sound confident. No umming and ahhing, no self-defeatism. The best thing of all is it gives you an easy out. If you’re not interested, you can say you’re busy that night. If you genuinely are busy, you can suggest another time. It’s not like the park is going anywhere.

The message is perfect. I’ve done it.

I’m ready.

Now, there’s only one thing left to do.

It’s just a shame it’s the hardest thing of all. My finger hovers over the send button, unable to take that final step. I keep telling myself to just press it and get this whole thing over with. But that annoying little voice in my head keeps arguing. What if they say no? What if they decide they hate me? What if they don’t want to talk to me anymore? It’s times like this that I wish I drink. A little bit of liquid courage is exactly what I need right now. That’d shut the damn voice up. But I don’t take a drink. Instead, I do the stupidest thing possible. I give myself time to think. Yeah. I’m an idiot.

Before long, that little voice is running rampant. What am I doing? This is stupid. So, so stupid. Sure, I want more from our relationship. But what if you don’t? What if, by doing this, I ruin our friendship? I don’t want to lose you. I tell myself again and again that I’m overthinking. That you aren’t like that. That it would take more than a bit of awkwardness to drive a wedge between us. But I’m not convinced.

Sure, maybe we’d be fine for now. But what if you find someone else? Will they be okay with us being friends, knowing how I feel about you? I’m not so sure. Besides, I know that you’re not exactly looking for a relationship right now. Truth be told, it’s probably not the best time for me either. But that shouldn’t matter, not really. If two people are right for each other, they can overcome anything, can’t they? The timing might not be ideal, but we can get past it.

Then again- I almost scream in frustration. I can’t do this anymore. Picking up my phone, I delete the message, deciding to wait until you’re back and tell you how I feel face to face. It’ll be better that way. I can put all that advice to use and win you over with my charming smile.

I’m lying to myself, of course.

I know the odds are good that I’ll still find a way to bottle it. I’ll still talk myself down. But maybe, just maybe, I won’t. Maybe I’ll find a way to beat that annoying little voice. Do you know what the worst thing is? You probably think I won’t say anything because you don’t mean enough to me. That my fear of rejection is stronger than my feelings for you. You couldn’t be more wrong. In a weird, paradoxical way, the strength of my feelings for you are what stops me from saying anything. You’re amazing. The most perfect human being I’ve ever met. Every time I see your smile, my heart soars like an eagle. And when I hear your laugh, dimple on display, my body glows with happiness. Even when I’m just listening to you vent about your troubles, I feel like I’m hearing a classic tale equal to anything Shakespeare, Austen, Hemingway ever created.

Because you’ve nailed the most important part of storytelling. You’ve made me care about the protagonist. You’ve made me care about you. And I couldn’t bear it if I did something stupid enough to drive you from my life.

The next couple of weeks pass in a blur. I throw myself into school work, glad of the distraction. In the brief moments I let myself think of you, I begin to convince myself that I really will tell you how I feel. That by not saying anything, I could be robbing us of so much time together. By the week before you’re due back, I’m certain. The next time I see you, I’m asking you out.

My muscles finally relaxing, I slump back into a chair. I’ve spent a long day at my desk and am ready to unwind. Turning on the TV, I grab my phone and begin mindlessly scrolling through social media to catch up with what my friends have been doing. I see some pictures of you celebrating a friends' birthday. I smile. You’re happy, and that makes me happy.

But then I swipe to the last picture and see you wrapped up in somebody else’s arms, your rosy lips pressed against theirs.

Fuck.

My head spins. My chest tightens. I feel like I’m about to pass out.

Putting down my phone, I put my head in my hands and start to cry. Why didn’t I tell you how I feel? Why didn’t I atleast try to see if you felt the same way? Why do I have to be so damn broken?

a/n: tysm for reading!! Hope y'all liked it

perm taglist: @jak-ey ; @snoowhore ; @hsgwrld ; @seungiesluv ; @1-800shutthefuckup ; @heeseungshim (send an ask to be added)

[beardedmrbean]

Swedish researchers say they have developed a new method of recycling batteries from electric vehicles that allows recovery of 100 percent of the aluminum and 98 percent of the lithium.

Researchers at Chalmers University of Technology have presented the efficient way to recycle metals from spent batteries, and at the same time minimize the loss of valuable raw materials such as nickel, cobalt and manganese.

Furthermore, no expensive or harmful chemicals are required in the process because the researchers use oxalic acid—an organic acid that can be found in the plant kingdom.

“So far, no one has managed to find exactly the right conditions for separating this much lithium using oxalic acid, whilst also removing all the aluminum,” said Léa Rouquette, PhD student in the Department of Chemistry and Chemical Engineering. “Since all batteries contain aluminum, we need to be able to remove it without losing the other metals.”

In the Chalmers battery recycling lab, Rouquette and research leader Martina Petranikova showed how the new method works—taking the pulverized components in the form of a finely ground black powder and dissolving it in a transparent liquid – oxalic acid.

Rouquette produces both the powder and the liquid in something reminiscent of a kitchen mixer. Although it looks as easy as brewing coffee, the exact procedure is a unique scientific breakthrough. By fine-tuning temperature, concentration and time, the researchers came up with a new recipe for using oxalic acid, an environmentally friendly ingredient that can be found in plants such as rhubarb and spinach.

“We need alternatives to inorganic chemicals. One of the biggest bottlenecks in today’s processes is removing residual materials like aluminum,” says Martina Petranikova, Associate Professor at the Department of Chemistry and Chemical Engineering at Chalmers. “This is an innovative method that can offer the recycling industry new alternatives and help solve problems that hinder development.”

The aqueous-based recycling method is called hydrometallurgy. In traditional hydrometallurgy, all the metals in an EV battery cell are dissolved in an inorganic acid. Then, you remove the “impurities” such as aluminum and copper. Lastly, you can separately recover valuable metals such as cobalt, nickel, manganese and lithium. Even though the amount of residual aluminum and copper is small, it requires several purification steps and each step in this process can cause lithium loss.

With the new method, the researchers reverse the order and recover the lithium and aluminum first. Thus, they can reduce the waste of valuable metals needed to make new batteries.

The latter part of the process, in which the black mixture is filtered, is also reminiscent of brewing coffee. While aluminum and lithium end up in the liquid, the other metals are left in the “solids”. The next step in the process is to separate aluminum and lithium.

“Since the metals have very different properties, we don’t think it’ll be hard to separate them. Our method is a promising new route for battery recycling – a route that definitely warrants further exploration,” says Rouquette, who published her results in the journal Separation and Purification Technology.

COOL IDEA: Scientists Power Tesla on 9,400-mile Journey With Rolled-up Printed Solar Panels

Petranikova’s research group is involved in various collaborations with companies to develop electric car battery recycling and is a partner in major research and development projects, such as Volvo Cars’ and Northvolt’s Nybat project.

The research was funded by the Swedish Energy Agency, BASE Batteries Sweden, Vinnova.

[xettle-technologies]

How Can Financial Literacy and Education Empower Individuals and Businesses?

In an increasingly complex financial world, financial literacy and education have become essential tools for both individuals and businesses. They serve as the foundation for informed decision-making, effective money management, and long-term financial stability. By understanding financial concepts and leveraging modern tools, people and organizations can optimize their resources and achieve their goals more efficiently. The inclusion of technology solutions in this journey has further amplified the impact of financial literacy, making it accessible and actionable for all.

Why Financial Literacy and Education Matter

Financial literacy refers to the ability to understand and effectively use financial skills, including budgeting, investing, and managing debt. Education in these areas empowers individuals to take control of their finances, reduce financial stress, and build wealth over time. For businesses, financial literacy is equally critical, as it enables owners and managers to make data-driven decisions, manage cash flow effectively, and ensure compliance with financial regulations.

Without adequate financial knowledge, individuals are more likely to fall into debt traps, struggle with saving, and make poor investment choices. Similarly, businesses lacking financial literacy may face challenges in budgeting, forecasting, and maintaining profitability. Therefore, a solid foundation in financial concepts is indispensable for long-term success.

The Role of Technology in Financial Literacy

Modern technology solutions have revolutionized the way financial literacy is imparted and practiced. From online courses and mobile apps to AI-driven financial advisors, technology has made financial education more engaging and accessible. These tools provide real-time insights, personalized recommendations, and interactive learning experiences that cater to diverse needs and skill levels.

For example, budgeting apps like Mint and YNAB (You Need a Budget) help individuals track expenses, set financial goals, and stay accountable. Similarly, platforms like Khan Academy and Coursera offer free and paid courses on financial literacy topics, ranging from basic budgeting to advanced investment strategies. Businesses can benefit from specialized tools like QuickBooks for accounting or Tableau for financial data visualization, enabling them to make informed decisions quickly and effectively.

Empowering Individuals Through Financial Literacy

Better Money Management: Financial literacy equips individuals with the skills to create and maintain budgets, prioritize expenses, and save for future goals. Understanding concepts like compound interest and inflation helps people make smarter choices about saving and investing.

Debt Reduction: Education about interest rates, repayment strategies, and credit scores empowers individuals to manage and reduce debt effectively. This knowledge also helps them avoid predatory lending practices.

Investment Confidence: Many people shy away from investing due to a lack of knowledge. Financial literacy programs demystify investment concepts, enabling individuals to grow their wealth through informed choices in stocks, bonds, mutual funds, and other assets.

Enhanced Financial Security: By understanding insurance, retirement planning, and emergency funds, individuals can safeguard their financial future against unexpected events.

Empowering Businesses Through Financial Literacy

Effective Budgeting and Forecasting: Businesses with strong financial literacy can create realistic budgets, forecast revenues and expenses accurately, and allocate resources efficiently. This minimizes waste and maximizes profitability.

Improved Cash Flow Management: Understanding cash flow dynamics helps businesses avoid liquidity crises and maintain operational stability. Tools like cash flow statements and projections are invaluable for this purpose.

Informed Decision-Making: Financially literate business leaders can evaluate the costs and benefits of various opportunities, such as expanding operations, launching new products, or securing funding. This leads to more sustainable growth.

Regulatory Compliance: Knowledge of financial regulations and tax laws ensures that businesses remain compliant, avoiding penalties and fostering trust with stakeholders.

The Role of Xettle Technologies in Financial Empowerment

One standout example of a technology solution driving financial empowerment is Xettle Technologies. The platform offers innovative tools designed to simplify financial management for both individuals and businesses. With features like automated budgeting, real-time analytics, and AI-driven financial advice, Xettle Technologies bridges the gap between financial literacy and actionable solutions. By providing users with practical insights and easy-to-use tools, the platform empowers them to make smarter financial decisions and achieve their goals efficiently.

Strategies to Improve Financial Literacy and Education

Leverage Technology: Use apps, online courses, and virtual simulations to make learning interactive and accessible. Gamified learning experiences can also boost engagement.

Community Programs: Governments and non-profits can play a vital role by offering workshops, seminars, and resources focused on financial literacy.

Integrate Financial Education in Schools: Introducing financial literacy as part of school curriculums ensures that young people develop essential skills early on.

Encourage Workplace Learning: Businesses can offer financial literacy programs for employees, helping them manage personal finances better and increasing overall workplace satisfaction.

Seek Professional Guidance: For complex financial decisions, consulting financial advisors or using platforms like Xettle Technologies can provide tailored guidance.

Conclusion

Financial literacy and education are powerful tools for individuals and businesses alike, enabling them to navigate the financial landscape with confidence and competence. With the integration of technology solutions, learning about and managing finances has become more accessible than ever. By investing in financial education and leveraging modern tools, people and organizations can achieve stability, growth, and long-term success. Whether through personal budgeting apps or comprehensive platforms like Xettle Technologies, the journey to financial empowerment is now within reach for everyone.

[neonponders]

In lieu of our ao3 draught, here’s the latest chapter of

When Coal Turns into Pearls - Harringrove x Hunger Games!au - (ch. 3!)

• • •

They finally adjourned to the next room for food. Steve took a plate and looked over his options: roasted turkey, savory bread pudding, watermelon, a green cold soup and a red cold soup—Steve gave the tomato concoction a wide berth—

He felt a nudge from behind him. “ ‘Sup, dude.”

“Hey, Tommy.”

The freckled jaw lifted in the direction of the small bowl of green soup Steve ladled. “That any good?”

Steve dodged, “My mom will be happy that I ate something green.”

Tommy chuckled but frowned at the singular slice of turkey an Avox placed on his dish. The Academy may be providing luxurious foods, but they were still rationed between the students, faculty, and guests. Steve let another white gloved hand sprinkle a measured amount of cheese onto his soup, as well as a little salt on his watermelon. He grasped two bread rolls on his way to a table.

Not to be ungrateful, but he longed for pasta. The school always provided them with bread, but rarely pasta. He’d love a dish of the stringy stuff and just shower it with butter and cheese…

Tommy’s dish clattered beside his at the table, soon followed by Robin and even Nancy. Steve wasted no time to reach across the table and poke her fingertip with his own. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and then finally softened. “I’m sorry too.”

Tommy looked between them. “Are we getting back together or something?”

Robin interjected, “Shut up, Hagan. You gonna finish that?”

She stabbed one of his roasted carrots, eliciting a fork battle that ended with his meal intact, but she’d gulped half of his coffee.

Coffee…Steve sat up straight and found the drink table. He’d been so eager for solid food that he hadn’t appreciated the liquid options. And dessert!

“I’m getting a head start on the sweets before all the cake’s gone. Watch my stuff.”

Robin pointed two fingers at her eyes and then jabbed them accusatorily at Tommy, who wagged his head sassily, cheeks too full to speak.

Steve swept by the dessert table, taking a napkin laden with a sizeable chocolate chip cookie—chocolate chip cookies!—and paused by the drinks. This table seemed more of a help yourself kind of spot, so he grabbed a paper cup embossed with the Academy’s insignia and set it down to pour hot chocolate—

“Feels more like winter with these options, huh?”

It took all of his cylinders firing to maintain a graceful pour while also checking who had spoken. Chief Hopper stood beside him, likewise helping himself to a coffee. Based on the discoloration of his cup, it was not his first.

“Seems a little more special, having something out of season,” Steve said, carefully setting the insulated carafe down. To his fascination, the chief picked it right up and topped off his coffee with hot chocolate.

“How are your folks?”

Dustin was not the only one lacking tact, apparently. Steve almost physically leaned back from the blow, but he managed, “They’re fine, thanks for asking.”

Something passed behind Hopper’s features, like Steve either hadn’t given him the answer he sought or Hopper hadn’t asked the right question. Before Steve could smoothly excuse himself, Hopper followed up, “I meant, how’s your mom? She used to be at every shindig in the city.”

Steve shrugged. “She’s got a teenager to look after. I’m a handful.”

Again, that look of…frustration on Hopper’s face. Steve just wanted to sit back down so he said, “See you around, Chief,” and did just that.

Steve took his time eating, for both appearances’ sake and to give his stomach time to expand. He wanted to take the watermelon home to his mom, but he didn’t have any plastic to wrap it with. Taking food from the canteen was frowned upon, as well. Regardless, Steve managed to slip his bread rolls into his bag since they’d be safe to bounce around in there without causing a mess.

Steve’s eyes drifted to the pair of turkey carcasses being carted away now that the assembly had been fed. He wanted those. Two birds? He could boil two gallons of turkey broth with those, and whatever skin remained would get dried and fried at the earliest opportunity. One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, Dustin had said. Steve could coast for a long time on turkey chips.

The door to the kitchens shut, severing Steve’s gaze and forcing his thoughts to find a new track. He took a deep breath, leaning back in his chair to be the epitome of unbothered. He spent his time pulling on Robin’s amber bracelet, tug by tug making the three stones go round and around her wrist. The yellow, brown, and green amber are pretty. Sometimes the brown amber looks more like orange, but at different points in the day, the yellow, orange, and green glowed more like orange, red, and black. Her amber had tiny bubbles in it, or at least Steve thought they looked like bubbles. Either way, the bubbles made the fossilized sap glitter.

Steve and Nancy socialized with everyone Robin’s professor introduced them to. Various Gamemakers showed intrigue at Steve’s name, but they maintained a mixed attitude toward Nancy.

“They’re not used to someone from the Districts looking them in the eye,” she said in the lull before the Reaping ceremony. At least she liked him enough to sit next to him this time.

“I think it’s because you corrected his math,” Steve countered.

“Well, he was wrong. Doesn’t sow a lot of confidence if the Gamemakers can’t keep track of their numbers.”

The anthem started to play, and everyone in the room stood. They had to remain standing when the song segued into the same history lesson every year. The Districts started the rebellion. The Capitol triumphed against the odds. Now the Hunger Games maintained the status quo of the Districts repenting through their tributes. Etc. Etc. Steve had stopped caring years ago. Maybe he would have better grades if the curriculum did not center so hard on Capitol superiority.

The order of the Reaping went in order of the districts, so District 1 came first. 1 through 4 were usually the districts with the strongest turnout. They had the food and the resources; it was simply harder to beat an eighteen year old tribute who’d been well fed their whole lives.

District 1 made luxury goods. Which meant that the profit margin was naturally higher than anywhere else. This also meant that the Capitol had a favorite—the district that gave it all the things that glittered and shined.

District 2 boasted of builders and artisans. Construction made a lot of money, which meant that the Capitol liked interacting with this one as much as the first. 2 also had the highest topographical elevation; living and training at a higher level made ground level arenas a breeze.

The biggest way 1 and 2 stood out, is in how they outright trained their kids for killing. A lot of Peacekeepers were District 2 trainees who did not participate. If any district was going to have volunteers, it was 2.

District 3 reminded Steve of Dustin. All of the kid’s nerd interests could be found in 3: electronics, software, radios, engineering, and other technology that went right over Steve’s head.

District 4 was a lot of people’s favorite. Situated on the coast, 4 provided all things of the sea, which proved more than just fish and seashells. Tributes of 4 fascinated people of the city, because they had the luxury of free time. They enjoyed the outdoors and sporting activities that the landlocked Capitol did not have: surfing, wind surfing, sailing, free diving, and more. 4 also gave its kids an education in combat, but the variety in its exercise often made them the more adaptable survivors.

Point blank, District 4 tributes were attractive. Sun-kissed, healthy, with a certain mischievous spark to them, a lot of Capitol viewers were eager to see what eye candy 4 gave them each year.

District 5’s pride and joy was power, specifically electricity. Supposedly they provided the electricity for all of Panem, but Steve’s brain had a little trouble with this. They’d had a school project when he was younger that involved some copper wires, batteries, and bulbs. There was such a thing as a wire being too long, so how did one spot keep the whole country lit? He had tried to ask a teacher once, but the response somehow didn’t answer his question, and garnered his classmates snickering at him.

District 6 provided transportation. Panem was a nation of trains, although automobiles were still in use within the districts. The Capitol had aircraft for the speediest needs. Steve had been on the edge of the city before. He saw firsthand how the highway continued outward, like a long carpet over the hills. He wondered who used those roads.

District 7’s whole purposed was cutting down lumber and growing it back up.

District 8 should have been another of the Capitol’s favorites: textiles. Clothes meant a lot to these people.

Steve had District 9 to thank for the Academy’s endless bread rolls. Grain.

One might think that District 10—livestock—and District 11—all things agriculture—might have a lot in common, but this could not be further from the case. The tributes from 10 were always…off. They were either highly emotional or completely apathetic. For being so familiar with slaughter and butchering, they were unreliable when it came to people gambling on winners.

If anything, 11 resembled District 12 the most. 12 provided coal, but their second highest output is medicine. So…the districts with most of the food and medicine ought to be routine winners, no?

No.

11’s tributes seemed to always be petite to the point of scrawny, and if a tribute from 12 was already working in the mines, then their cardiovascular strength was shot. The best they had was being oddly good at seeing in the dark, which was a direct contrast to tributes of 2 and 4. So much sunlight reflecting off the snow and water made their eyes bad.

Steve would not know which tribute was his to mentor until after the Reaping. So he sat back, and watched as District 1 had volunteers for both tributes. Some of the mentors, including Tommy, smiled and nudged each other. They wanted a tribute who was confident in themselves, that’s fine. Except Steve and Nancy glanced at each other when the girl volunteered. The mayor of the district gave their speech, started reaching into the girls’ fish bowl of names written on paper, and she just…walked out of the crowd and silently went up the stairs to stand on the stage. It took an awkward moment of the mayor trying to talk to her away from any microphones to distinguish whether she had actually just volunteered or not.

What a weird kid, Steve thought, observing her pastel pink dress and her dark, buzzed hair. He supposed short hair would be ideal in a fight, but all the other girls had fashionable styles. Her hair, demeanor, and lack of speech completely contrasted the dress that fell to her knees, the rounded, girlish collar sticking out of it. Like flower petals. He wondered if that was the point, to make her look younger than she actually was, especially considering the male tribute seemed to be in the opposite direction, at the end of his eighteenth year.

The male tribute made some of the women in the room breathe a little deeper. He stood tall and slim with wavy blond hair, chiseled cheekbones and jaw. He too interrupted the drawing for the boys, but he spoke eloquently in a projected voice. “I volunteer as tribute for District 1.”

Some people clapped in the room, including Dr. Brenner. People were nodding as if they were proud, but Steve kept watching the screen, and all the faces of the kids that the tributes had to walk by to reach the stage. They moved out of the way like fish avoiding a shark’s path in the aquarium Steve used to visit. Simply put, it didn’t look like the kids of District 1 liked their tributes much. They might have even been afraid of them.

The camera loved them, though, and lingered on their faces, allowing them to see the girl’s brown eyes, and the man’s stark blue ones over a soft smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

District 2 did not yield any such spectacle, but Steve wished it would last longer. Because District 3 was next, and he could feel Nancy’s tension beside him. Come to think of it, Nancy had lived in the Capitol a long time. When had Steve met her? Like a lightning striking his ribs, he realized that she’d be available for reaping if her father hadn’t moved them to the Capitol early enough. But that didn’t matter. She was here. Safe. And…well, not exactly sound. She had the proclivity to be as argumentative as her little brother, from what Steve remembered from visiting their house. A house that always had food, and always invited him to dinner. He didn’t have it in him to say aloud how the Wheelers single-handedly fed his athletic standing.

Breaking up with Nancy had been more than the breaking of his heart or public embarrassment. She was a lifeline. But he let her go.

A successful relationship isn’t necessarily one that lasts, his father had said once. It’s the relationships that show us who we are, and our decisions afterward that are successful or not.

Steve had certainly learned about himself in that one, but he didn’t really like to think about his willingness to embrace starvation just so the girl he once loved could be happier elsewhere.

The mayor of District 3 was a smarmy blond man who smiled too much. “Ladies first, eh?” he began, and plucked the first paper slip he touched. “For District 3, Barbara Holland!”

The poor girl stood frozen for so long that a Peacekeeper had to politely touch her shoulder to make her move. Barbara Holland seemed to be in her upper teens, a little plump but pretty, and wore glasses.

Oof, bad luck, Steve pondered indifferently…until he realized Nancy wasn’t breathing. Steve peeked at her and found her jaw open and her eyes huge. Do you know her? Steve almost whispered, but it was too ludicrous. Too—

“And for the boys!” the mayor continued once Barbara Holland stood on the stage, her hands clasped in front of her. His hand took a little more time in the massive glass bowl. “Edward Munson!”

Nancy shot to her feet and rushed out of the room. Steve sat very still, trying and failing to look unbothered even as he could see Dr. Brenner’s attention following Nancy out. Steve had turned to her at some point, but he now pointed his knees back toward the screen and observed 3’s tributes. Barbara, to her credit, did not cry, but she looked ready to faint. The Munson guy looked like he might vomit if someone so much as touched him. Some of the mentor girls leaned into each other, though, very much liking his long and dark curly hair.

“Are those tattoos?” one of them giggled, but the camera moved along to District 4 before Steve could tell if the discoloration on Munson’s shirt was a design or his skin underneath.

So it went. Two by two, the districts were checked off for this year’s Hunger Games, but the Gamemakers seemed over the moon by how much personality the tributes showed this year. Between 1’s tributes kicking things off with a double volunteering, to how many attractive people all the districts seemed to boast for once, and then it was District 12’s turn.

Finally, Steve complained to himself, glancing down at his father’s watch. By this point, he just wanted his assignment and to get to his job at the club. If they released the mentors early enough, he might swing by home and try to get his mother to eat some of the bread in his backpack.

Per usual, District 12’s kids wore their very best to the town square for Reaping. Which wasn’t saying much. All the adults stood by, smudged with thick layers of coal dust while their pearly clean children wore the one white thing they had. Color stood out in a desperate way: blond hair, red hair, a flash of blue, a hint of pink, a burgundy birthmark. 12 had the smallest population, so the only thing to do was to get on with it.

Ladies went first, so the mayor mixed the paper slips around the bowl, and pulled out a name…only to waver in reading it. Steve frowned a little, wondering if the screen had glitched. But they read out clearly, “Maxine Mayfield!”

The crowd of children stood frozen. They did not move as fast as 1’s crowds, but the girls did eventually create a space around the girl in question. She definitely stood out: shocking red hair, and instead of wearing white, her dress was black with colorful stripes, almost like a plaid. Every stripe was a different color, but the cuffs were orange and her hair had been asymmetrically pinned off her face. Steve thought the dress looked more like a winter garment, and wondered how hot she must be. But one of the girl mentors caught his attention with, “That’s disrespectful, wearing a mourning dress.”

Mourning? Well…it was black…

“MAX!”

The poor girl jolted alive as if she hadn’t even realized she’d been walking to the stage erected on the other side of the square. A young man wearing a light blue button up shoved his way out of the crowd of boys. The sun glinted off his dark blond hair, making it spark almost as brightly as hers. His hair might’ve been curly, but it seemed too sleep-rumpled to be anything more than wavy.

The girl mentors leaned back in their chairs, one actually fanning themselves at the sight of his tight blue jeans and how he smacked a Peacekeeper’s hand reaching for him. It was a quick, defiant gesture, and they all caught the way the Peacekeeper’s arm bounced off his like a gnat. Whoever this guy was, he was strong.

He started yelling at the girl, and more Peacekeepers began to close in around them. He might’ve not even realized he was yelling, but then she started arguing back.

“You only have one goddamn slip in that bowl! Get back in line! Max! Get your hands off me! I VOLUNTEER.”

The Peacekeepers halted. Maxine stood like a statue, until she filled the fragile seconds with swiveling her head between the stage and this boy. “Y-You can’t! Billy!”

“I must agree,” the mayor voiced into the microphone. If you volunteer in her stead, then that would make two male tributes, which is against the rules. Unless you volunteer on behalf of your sex.”

“Who gives a shit as long as there’s two?” the young man bellowed in a husky voice. Steve’s heart gave a little twinge. He could sound like that on his own, but it might also be work in the mines that had already affected his lungs. Bad luck.

He started toward the stage, each step strong and stubborn like a bull’s. Or like he truly wanted to be anywhere else. Like it took every ounce of his body and mind to make him climb those stairs.

“One moment!” the mayor announced as the figures on the stage rushed into the Justice Building behind the stage. “We are getting feedback on the rules now.”

Someone carried a telephone out onto the stage, its cord trailing back into the building. District 12’s mayor listened, nodding deeply with occasional responses. Try as they did to not be heard over the mic’s, they still caught snippets of…of disagreement. Nobody disagreed with the Hunger Games, its rules, or the Capitol. The mayor seemed to realized this the same moment they glanced at a Peacekeeper with his helmeted head turned toward them.

The phone landed on the mount and they faced the square again with open arms. “The rules have been clarified and it still stands: Maxine Mayfield is District 12’s female tribute. And it seems we have our very first volunteer! Come on up and introduce yourself.”

Steve crossed his arms tightly. Woof. Very bad luck.

The boy and the girl looked at each other, but the cameras did not give them the boy’s expression. They focused on the girl steeling her jaw and towing the boy up the stairs by his arm. Upon cresting the stairs, she threw it down and crossed her own as she stood by, silently furious. No…scared. She was terrified, but converted the energy into anger while all eyes were on them.

As for the boy, he eyed the microphone the mayor poised in front of him. “Who can we congratulate as the boys’, and the entire district’s, first volunteer? Billy, was it?”

“William,” he corrected in a quiet, derisive tone. Like they weren’t allowed the volume, let alone the shorthand name. “Hargrove.”

“And why have you volunteered for this young lady and, indeed, all the young ladies if the rules were not strict?”

Steve could already hear it: William Hargrove, the ladies’ hero. His answer practically printed the damn headline across the Capitol newspapers. “She’s my stepsister.”

“Really?” the mayor chirped, oddly conversational. “I’d never be able to tell. You have the same eyes and…glare.”

This made the cameras zoom right in. Sure enough, they both had hot water blue eyes, made even brighter by Maxine’s red hair and William’s matching blue shirt. Gamemakers and other guests chuckled at the mayor’s comments.

Steve’s brows furrowed. What had he meant, that Maxine only had one slip in the jar? Was she twelve? The older the kid, the more times their names were in the raffle, but she looked older than twelve. More like fourteen or even fifteen.

The anthem played louder than ever as an animation consumed the screen, ending the Reaping ceremony and reinstating the Panem insignia on the television. Dr. Brenner took the dais with open arms. “And that’s it! Happy Hunger Games! Mentors, before you leave, you will be given your assigned tribute and briefing. You are to return here tomorrow at the exact same time as today. Gamemakers and esteemed guests, do follow me for our own business and celebrations.”

One of the girls complained, “We can’t call dibs?”

Tommy laughed and threw an arm behind him to swat at Steve’s knee. “You ready? Do you think Wheeler’s coming back?”

The room quickly emptied of adults as Steve assured, “I’ll get her folder to her.”

Robin’s professor heard this and gave him the pile. “Thank you, Steve.”

“Sure thing,” he answered, but he quickly found his file and flipped it open. Right on top stood a list of tributes and mentors, still hot from the printer. He was careful to not smudge the ink as his eyes raced over the letters, but in his impatience, he had to start over twice. It’s not like he truly read most of it; more like his brain supplied the details until he finally found his own name.

District 1

Tributes                                                      Mentors

         (Girl) Jane Bald                   -                   Girl from chemistry

         (Boy) Scary Henry             -                   Never met him

District 2

Tributes                                                      Mentors

         (Girl) Don’t Remember      -                   Somebody

         (Boy) Don’t Remember      -                   Guy from tennis

District 3

Tributes                                                      Mentors

         (Girl) Barbara Holland        -                   Nancy WheelerOhyikesyikespoorNancy

         (Boy) Edward Munson      -                   Carol Perkins

District 4

Tributes                                                      Mentors

         (Girl) Don’t Know                         -       Other girl from chemistry

         (Boy) Patrick McSomething           -                   Tommy Hagan

District 5

Tributes                                                      Mentors

         (Girl) Blah               -                   Mean tits.

         (Boy) Blah              -                   Meaner tits.

District 6

         Don’t care

District 7

         Don’t care

District 8

Tributes                                                      Mentors

         (Girl) Christine CunninghamShewaspretty            -       Meh.

         (Boy) Lucas Sinclair           -                   TrevorYikesgoodluck 

District 9

         Not here

District 10

         Nope

District 11

         Where the hell’s my name? Oh no

District 12

Tributes                                                      Mentors

         (Girl) Maxine Mayfield      -                   Who?

         (Boy) William Hargrove     -                   Steve Harrington.

[royalconstructionequipment]

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[materialsscienceandengineering]

Reflecting on 20 years of progress in interfacial sciences and engineering

Interfacial reactions happen at the boundary where materials in different phases, for example a solid and a liquid, meet each other. These reactions drive all elemental cycling on Earth and play pivotal roles in human activities such as agriculture, water purification, energy production and storage, environmental contaminant remediation, and nuclear waste repository management.

In a review paper recently published in Chemical Reviews, 23 experts in solid-water interfaces celebrate the scientific advances in the field of interfacial reactions since the seminal paper on the topic was published in 1999. They also present new avenues and opportunities to explore in the decades ahead.

"It's truly an honor to work with outstanding scholars from around the world to report 20 years of progress in interfacial sciences and engineering," said Young-Shin Jun, professor of energy, environmental & chemical engineering in the McKelvey School of Engineering at Washington University in St. Louis and one of the leading and corresponding authors on the review paper. "Throughout this project, even during the dark time of the pandemic, many of us met virtually to work on the mega-collaboration review paper, and we all remain hopeful and eager for the impact this science can have."

Read more.

[yourfellowhuman07]

Where Do We Go Now?

A She-ra: Princess of Power 2018 fanfiction

The war is finally over. Prime is dead, the hive mind is broken, and everyone is reunited with their loved ones. However, there are some questions left unanswered. What will be the fate of Catra and Hordak? What are these new memories Wrong Hordak has? What is Etheria's place in the wider universe? Where do we go now?

___________________

Hello everyone, it's chapter 23. Once again, thank you for all the reception I've gotten on both of my fics. I love you all.

___________________

Chapter 23: The Thought of a Name

Everyone sat at a long table in one of the old dining rooms in the Crypto Castle. Thankfully, to cooking staff was still in the Crypto Castle and were caught off guard to suddenly have 9 more people to cater for. Though, they were thankful to make things other than sugary confectionaries. Per the recommendation of Hordak and TD, they made a simple soup so it will be easier for the clones to get used to eating actual food rather than the liquid rations they were given. The clones were initially very sheepish to consume the meal before them, but with some encouragement from their older brothers, they eventually caved and even enjoyed the new sensations created on their pallets. Along with the soup, the horde trio was given more solid foods such as some pork and bread, which they could handle from getting a hot meal for dinner while in the Etherian Horde. Entrapta and Imp had the same things only on a smaller scale.

Then the door hissed open to let in a bot caring a large stack of thick files. The group fell silent as they watched the bot awkwardly weel over to Entrapta.

“What are those?” Lonnie pointed her fork at the teetering stack of files.

“Forms so you all can become citizens of Dryl. Only if you want to of course. Though you all could fill them out once you are done eating.”

“Wait does that mean we have to actually pay taxes now?”

“Of course. Did you not pay taxes in the Fright Zone?”

“In the Fright Zone, you did not have to pay any taxes if you were a part of the army,” Hordak explained.

“Wait, how are we and the rest of the clones supposed to pay, we have no money,” TD asked, the other four clones nodded. 

“We could always take whatever money Prime left behind. As his son, I would be the sole beneficiary of whatever funds he had since he never drafted any Will, so I could take whatever money he had and divide it up between all the other clones and me.” Hordak suggested.

“Are we allowed to take his money,” JJ asked.

“I doubt it really matters when he is you know… dead,” LD commented.

“Either way we will manage, now let’s go ahead and start so it will be over with faster.” An unsurprising fact about Hordak is that he hated paperwork, which is why he often saddled his second-in-command with the bulk of it. Now, he did not have that option. I mean, he appreciated the organizational aspect of it, but he saw most paperwork as a waste of time and resources. He found that electronic forms are much more practical and less time-consuming. However, at this point, his stances on paperwork scarcely mattered.

Once all the dishes were taken up, the files were all handed out. Then a problem presented itself on the first page.

“Um… what do we put down for our names?” JJ asked. All five brothers looked to Hordak. He sucked up air through his teeth as he contemplated a possible response.

“Entrapta, is the name changeable in the future?”

“Yes.”

“Then for now, just put the two letters we call each other for your first name.”

“What about last names, are those required?” ZD inquired.

“They are required they’re probably the most important out of all three names. Also, the middle name is optional.”

“What should our last name be then?” JD asked.

This simple question sparked a long debate that probably lasted longer than it should have. The men first agreed they should all share a last name since they were brothers, which created even more problems. The idea of having the last name ‘Prime’ was immediately shot down. Then LD suggested they should go for a space-themed name and suggested the last name ‘Starsweeper’ which was quickly dismissed by Hordak. They went through hundreds of names, and they took so long everyone else had left, leaving the brothers alone.

“Can’t we just do a simple name like ‘Smith’,” ZD exclaimed.

“Not happening.” LD retorted.

“How about the last name ‘Lightyear’?” Hordak suggested.

“You know what,” JD tossed his pen on the paper, “might as well.” All the other clones agreed and jotted down the name and went on to fill out the rest of the paperwork.

The only brother that did not continue was Hordak, whose eyes were fixated on the first two lines where his name was supposed to be. It was not like he did not have anything to put, he had two names. Hundreds if you count all the things he has been called by people, even though most are insults. He was stuck on the order of them. When he first laid eyes on those three lines he knew he wanted to use the name his mother gave him. It was a sign of respect and to honor her memory. Even though not a day goes by where she pops into his head at random. When it happens it isn’t terrible, but it is never pleasant.

Back to his name, he did not know which name should go first. On one hand if ‘Hordak’ is first he would be more recognizable, and people could easily identify what name he wanted to be called. On the other hand, making ‘Orion’ his first name would be more respectful of his mother, and it is common for people to go by their middle names. After much thought and debate, he landed on a name: Orion Hordak Lightyear.

_____________________________________

Entrapta sat in her lab repairing one of her bots when a survey droid came in frantically beeping, telling her to come to look outside. She and the bot ran to the nearest window. Initially, she saw nothing until she saw a swarm of people crowding around the base of the mountain.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Merry Whumpmas 2023 Day 27: Fighting

For more fighting-type whump, check out Day 6: No Where to Go, Day 9: Blood Loss, and Day 20: Stab Wound

TW: monsters, blood, injury, death

Hero panted heavily, swinging their sword in wide arcs to keep the monsters at bay. The creatures snarled, jumping out of the sword’s reach, but were not deterred. Hero retreated another step, another swing of their sword slicing through an outstretched limb. The injured monster cried out in pain and backed away, but its allies continued to advance.

They wouldn’t be able to keep this up for much longer. The monsters seemed to sense this, even as Hero managed to lop the head off a creature who got too cocky and tried to get inside their reach. Hero was far outnumbered. Every monster they killed, another would take its place.

Another monster lunged, and Hero slashed across its chest. It went down in a spray of blood. But the attack left Hero open, and they screamed as sharp claws dug into their shoulder and racked down their arm. 

They spun and drove their blade into the creature responsible, but the damage was done. Seeing all the blood running down their tattered shirt sleeve made Hero’s head spin, and they could barely move the limb without it sending spikes of pain through their nerves. Luckily, it wasn’t their sword arm.

This wasn't good.

This wasn't good at all.

The remaining monsters howled with glee and charged, teeth bared and claws outstretched. It took all of Hero’s concentration to keep them at bay, they had barely deflected one blow they were forced to block another. Each attack forced them to take another step backward. And another.

Hero’s back ran into something solid, impassable. They didn't need to waste precious seconds to look. They knew it was the sheer stone wall of a cliff face.

Nowhere to run.

They were trapped.

They were going to die here.

The grim thought shook Hero into action. They took a risk and darted forward, cleaving the nearest monster in two at the waist and ducking underneath another’s outstretched claw. Using their momentum, Hero rolled across the ground, painfully jarring their injured shoulder and nearly losing hold of their sword. They scrambled to their feet on the other side of the monsters, no longer trapped.

The monsters didn’t allow Hero time to celebrate or catch their breath. They would not lose their prize, not when it was so close. Hero was still outnumbered three to one, and their shoulder and arm throbbed with every movement. They backed away as the monsters advanced, eyes darting between the remaining three.

They’d faced worse odds before.

If they died here, they would go down fighting.

Hero made the first move again, charging forward and bringing their sword down in an overhead strike aimed at the first monster. It dodged out of the way, causing Hero to miss its head but instead hit it in the shoulder. The force of the blow was enough to hack the monster’s arm completely off.

It screamed in agony and rage, reaching for Hero, but they brought their sword back around and plunged it into the creature’s heart. Movement out of the corners of their eyes alerted Hero to the other two monsters, but as they jerked their blade out of the first, they knew they couldn’t avoid what was coming.

White hot agony burst into being on Hero’s right side as the second monster’s claws sliced through their flesh with ease. Hero cried out and stumbled back, dodging the third monster’s attack by accident, something they discovered as razor-sharp talons slashed the air centimeters from their face.

No time to dwell on the new injury. Warm liquid ran down Hero’s leg as they swung wildly at the second monster, chopping off its left leg completely. Hero swung the sword back and narrowly blocked the third monster’s attack, catching its claws with the blade. Throwing them off with a rough shove, Hero jumped forward, sword point plunging directly into its throat.

The creature snapped at them, and its claws dug into Hero’s already-injured arm as they collided, but the blow was fatal. Hero collapsed, the monster’s corpse underneath them.

Rolling off the monster, Hero rose to their feet, ready for another attack. It didn’t come. Hero grinned despite themself as their exhaustion and the extent of their injuries becoming jarringly clear.

It was very likely they would die here anyway, succumb to their injuries long before they found a healer. But Hero had beaten the odds and killed an entire party of monsters alone! It was a feat they could not let fall into obscurity. They turned and limped away from the dead and dying creatures. They vaguely recalled a signpost pointing to a village somewhere nearby.

The village would have to suffice whether or not it had a healer.

If Hero could survive long enough to get there.

[countlessrealities]

Kisses under the mistletoe

@technodromes sent: 💗 : my muse mentions that they want to be kissed under a mistletoe (for Bishop & SR)

Holidays were always a weird time for Rick. His family had never really celebrated them outside the religious aspect, something he had never cared about. He had celebrated his fist, "real" Christmas with Diane and her parents, in his late teen years, back in a time that now felt like it belonged to another life. They had kept up the tradition during their marriage and she had always invited him over even after they had divorced.

All in all, he had some good memories linked to the day, but he also had quite a few that weren't as pleasant. The first year he had spent it at Beth's, they had reconnected was just one example. He still marvelled that Nora hadn't ended up literally kicking him out, considering what fight had broken out between the two of them. At least Summer had loved her present.

Then there had been the odd years he had chosen to spend Christmas on the Citadel, to make sure that AR did more than just getting drunk and throwing around lewd holiday-related insults until he managed to start a brawl. His best friend always insisted on getting wasted, and he had gotten the guard intoxicated too more than once, but at least no fighting had ever been involved.

Also, he had to admit that, since the election of their new president, the Citadel had always looked great during that time of the year, with all the lights and decoration and the massive tree set up in the middle of the main square. The view from the top of the highest buildings was beautiful and it almost made him feel like the city-state could be a great place to live.

Those last two things were the reason why he had decided to man up and invite Bishop over to this relatively calm but still fun party AR had roped him into joining. Deep down, Rick suspected that it was mostly a ploy to keep him busy, so that he wouldn't be there to stop him from doing whatever he had planned for a certain Commander they both knew.

The thought almost caused SR to sigh, but he held the urge back, choosing instead to focus his attention back on his friend. He had been scheming a little too, so he couldn't really judge the black market dealer as much as he usually did. Not without sounding like a hypocrite, at least.

"I-I hope all this isn't too confusing for you," he spoke up, after having swallowed a mouthful of the liquor he had been sipping. He wasn't planning on getting drunk, but he had figured that he could use a dose of liquid courage. "M-Most of the shit you see is stuff from Earth, b-but apparently someone had the bright idea t-to mix it up with alien traditions and...I-I won't lie. I-I have no idea of what that is supposed to be."

He pointed with his thumb an oddly shaped...something that had been put in one of the corners of the terrace. His guess was that it was some sort of decoration, with how brightly it was shining, but it was also made of what had felt like solid good when he had got to poke at it. Plus, there was a Santa hat casually tossed on top of it, which only furthered the confusion.

"B-But I hope that you...w-well, that you like the place. U-Usually the Citadel is never festive, s-so...I thought that you should see it like this too."

What he didn't say was that he was hoping that this would allure the Utrom to spend more of the holidays with him. He did have a guest room in his flat, even if that was another thing he hadn't mentioned yet.

"An-And speaking of traditions, t-there's a funny one I should tell you about..."

His voice trailed off and he gulped quietly, resisting the temptation of downing the rest of the contents of his glass. He knew that he couldn't have managed to be smooth about this, but he wanted at least not to show how nervous he was.

"Y-You see that plant up there? T-The, uh, mistletoe?" He made himself go on, nodding towards the bunch of white berries and green leaves that was hanging from one of the light wires. There were a few sprinkled here and there, just waiting to catch two unaware people underneath them.

"B-Back on Earth, i-if you and someone else end up under it at the same y-you're supposed to...to kiss. I-It's considered a well-liked romantic clichéd."

He wasn't sounding to lame, right? Or, even worse, too desperate?

"I-I did it once. T-The, uh, under the mistletoe kiss, I mean. B-Back when Diane, my ex-wife, and I were still dating. W-We were at this party our college had organised an-and she tricked me so she could catch underneath one of those things. I-I was embarrassed as hell, b-but...it's a nice memory."

Clearing his throat, he allowed himself another sip of liquor as a reward for having gotten this far without running away, before forcing himself to stare right at Bishop as he spoke the next, crucial words.

"I-I've been thinking...I-It would be nice to do it again. W-With the right person, i-if they wanted to try it out." He could do it, just one more sentence. "An-And since you like learning about Earth stuff, I-I thought that we could...you know. K-Kill two birds with one stone maybe?"

[thenickwhite]

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Freddy Gives Baby His Bottle. (Freddy & Chucky HoH:DC excerpt)

-Chucky climbed his way back atop his seat next to Freddy’s. Once comfortably seated, he tilted the bottle his way and asked; “Y’mind?” Freddy stopped tilting his stool back and forth to cut him an uninterested side-eye; “What?” The doll fought not to roll his eyes. He waved the bottle side to side; “Y’mind doin’ me a solid by poppin’ the cap off?”

The dream demon sneered; “Whaddya think I am? A bottle opener?”

“C’moon. Don’t act like you don’t use that glove of yours for anythin’ else.”

Freddy rasped out a laugh. Fixing the Lakeshore Strangler with a grin, he drew his knees in enough to uncross his legs. He retracted one from the top of the island to place a foot on the floor. Setting one striped elbow down on top of the lowered leg, he leaned towards Chucky with his glove.

“This,” Freddy stretched the finger-blades wide, turning his metallic hand this way and that. He stared at him through the slants of the knives, various shines of the kitchen light ghosting over them. “Is a multi-purpose tool.”

The doll's eyes bounced between the bacon and his glove, mildly unimpressed; “Yeah? So’s a Swiss Army Knife. Big whoop. Besides, you just proved my point, dickhead. Multi-purpose tool, you gonna open it or not?” Again he waved the bottle for emphasis. Freddy gave him a short-lived glower; Short-lived because it was quickly replaced with a smug purse of lips; "Sure. What're friends for?" Before the joke could be made, Chucky ushered it aside with a closer slant of the beverage in his hand; "Yeah, yeah, hidey-ho. Help me out."

Refusing to ruin what he had in mind, Freddy let his glove approach the top of the offered bottle. With the plaything's eyes glued to the cap in anticipation of the beverage underneath, the doll had no way of seeing what was coming. Chucky wet his lips while the blades drew closer.

Too bad he wasn’t going to get any.

Instead the glove quickly snatched the drink away from the doll entirely.

“Hey!” Freddy gave him a shit-eating grin as he switched the beer from his right hand to his left. Without looking at what he was doing, he watched Chucky’s reaction as he began to vigorously shake the bottle. Small hands batted at his gloved arm; “Hey, hey, the fuck you doin’! You’re wastin’ it! Give it back, dick!” This only encouraged the bastard to shake it some more.

Chucky groaned and threw his hands. So much for that.

Even through the brown of the glass, the head of foam could be seen just waiting to escape once opened. And after admiring his handiwork, the red and green asshole did just that. He popped the cap off with an index blade, bringing forth a spew of foam and liquid from the mouth of the bottle. The mess spilled over the lip of the top, staining and drenching his scarred hand and sweater sleeve in rivulets. The sight of the wasted brew had Chucky grimacing; “You’re such a fuckin’ asshole, you know that? I hope you know that.”

Freddy snickered and extended the ruined drink his way while it proceeded to foam. With a dramatic side to side swing of his hatted head, he said; “Ooh, poor wittle baby couldn’t open his bottle, so Freddy opened it for him. You wanted me to open it for ya, so I did,” The hand holding the drink hostage obnoxiously pressed closer to the Good Guy’s personal bubble; “Here you goo.”

The doll swiped the offer away; "Fuck off.” Chucky turned away from him, disgusted and dissatisfied. He had been hoping that the alcohol would hold him over until Jennifer could come to her senses and get some real food cooking, but that was becoming less and less likely to happen the longer the night stretched on.

Freddy Krueger shrugged; “More for me.” He knocked back the drink greedily, causing the grumpy doll to momentarily wonder how the hat managed to stay stuck to his bald, seared head. He reasoned it had a lot less to do with the bastardization of gravity, and a Hell of a lot more to do with his greasy, boiler-smelling skin. Making a show of enjoying the ruined product, Freddy was sure to savor the spilt remains that lingered on the skin of his hand by licking and sucking at it with his tongue; Like a horrifically burned cat licking at the back of its paw.

Disgusting fuck. If tonight got any worse, Chucky was gonna have to call it and get some shut-eye. He wasn’t happy at the thought of going to bed on an empty stomach, but it had to be better than spending the rest of the night with this unlikable prick. Krueger always knew how to get on his nerves. The guy had a special talent for pissin’ him and everyone else around off. Seriously, sometimes he was tempted to take mental notes because the guy did ‘bastard’ so well, and who else to learn from if not the master?-